Hmmm so much to write.
I took some time off, mostly b/c work got busy. Then I was sort of busy on weekends...doing not much of anything.
Sooo where did I leave off. I don't even know where to start.
Def Leppard Concert Boy, aka D:
We've been on several dates. He's taken me to two NC State football games, complete with the tailgating. Nice friends. He's good at including me, making me feel welcome. He's also been training for a triathalon, keeping him busy. He's taken me to his restaurant, introduced me around. I have been liking being around him so much I did the unthinkable.
I went to a Dave Matthews concert.
Yup, you heard me right. DMB. Those of you who have known me for awhile know that I despise that shit. I don't like Phish, I don't like the Grateful Dead. I don't like DMB. I recognize they are good musicians. Damn that fiddle player is amazing. But I don't like it. I've tried. I'm into the whole Virginia thing. You guys know I love that state. But DMB, this I cannot do.
I have to admit, I really don't like its fan base. It's an unimaginative group of frat boys and sorority girls, all conformists, all with their baseball hats and Nissan Xterras.
But I digress. I went to the concert because he asked. And he asked me to bring two of my friends as well, as he had four tickets total. I thought it was sweet. I didn't tell him I hate DMB, I just said I was "lukewarm." That's the nicest thing I've ever said about them. People are banned from playing DMB at Lakehouse...
So I went. The seats were great. He was so generous. Buying me drinks, food. Trying to buy me merchandise (do you want a DMB t-shirt? no, no I don't. really? they look cool. no, no really I don't need another t-shirt.) I had forgotten what it was like to be around a man who isn't cheap.
Every frickin song sounded the same. I couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. My friend Harley girl got a little tipsy and was very amusing that night. She sort of passed out in the back seat of his Jeep on the way home (he drove us all...again, this guy is just so nice) but not before asking us to make a run for the border. I wasn't in a Bell sort of mood, so we got McDonald's and ate it on my back patio.
We ate and hung out and talked for awhile. He was looking good. I was watching him talk about his companies, his work, his training, and I was thinking, wow he's cute in this light. I'm thinking I want to have sex with him. I think he might have wanted to have sex with me, but he wasn't pushing for it, and honestly, there was little room at the Inn. Let me explain...
Harley girl went upstairs and passed out in my daughter's room. My daughter, meanwhile, was in the spare room with two of her friends, sleeping. So I had a total of 4 people ALREADY in my upstairs. It was particularly crowded, and I have a noisy bed. It makes too much noise when its in use. We would have woken up the house.
So, I didn't offer and he didn't press, and we made out quietly on the front porch and his kisses are much, much better. He left, my clothes barely mussed and my balls, if I had them, very very blue. I have now gone on six dates, SIX dates with this guy, and not so much as more than a kiss. He'll talk about my fabulous boobs til the cows come home, but will he grope? NOPE.
And as such, being somewhat of a contrarian, I'm getting fished into this. I'm on a mission to get laid by this guy. It's gonna happen. Enough of all this spending money and taking me places. Take me to bed, damnit. A girl's gotta eat, but a girl's GOTTA EAT too.
So, I have a date with him on Thursday night. This time I asked. He's asked for the last 6, thought it was time I put it out there. Sushi and drinks. Then perhaps I'll take him for a test drive.
Punk Boy:
Seen him out a few times. Broke the ice with him a few weeks ago by sending over a shot. Didn't talk to him, just had the bartender deliver the drink and he got wink from me. Hung out with him two Friday nights ago, with my friend Kirsten Dunst look alike, and it was good. Nothing happened. He's having a fling with one of those 25 year old punk girls, I believe.
Saw him again this Friday night. Was out with Fun Girl, and some others. She said there was some staring...but he always does that. He did wander over to say hi, I was very friendly but nothing beyond that. Spent a lot of time on the dance floor talking, just talking with my drummer friend P, in from LA for the weekend, and it probably looked like there was more going on with he and I than there really was. Little Red Corvette came on, and I made no move away from talking to P, and I saw Punk Boy and his 25 year old skedaddle out of there mid-song.
Others on the list:
N, my ex from 12 years ago, was out this past Friday with his super psycho sometimes ex, sometimes not ex girlfriend. I'll call her Militant. Because that's really close to her name and that's who she is. I hug N, and he says, "This is Militant."
And I say, "How do you do? I'm (insert my real name here.)"
She responds, forcefully and with the strength of an NFL quarterback calling a play before the snap, "I'm Militant."
N says, drolly, "Yeah...didn't I just say that?"
She greets me, almost breaks my hand. Spends 15 minutes seeming to get mad about me. She didn't seem to. She got mad. Fun Girl told me not to look over and make it worse. Then, apparently to appease her about me (I was looking pretty good, I must say) he made a comment about me being practially engaged.
Whoa whoa whoa. I know. Stop the presses. At this moment, I could not be more single. Honestly, I've never been so single in my life. Probably not since 8th grade. Probably not since 3rd grade.
So, she tests him and me on that statement. Says to me, in front of everyone:
"Congratulations on getting engaged."
I thought I didn't hear her right. I mean, that's possible right. I mis-hear shit all the time. I just miss shit totally. So I say, excuse me?
"Congratulation on your engagement..."
I tell her I'm not engaged, and I look very very confused. Everyone else around has a shocked look on their face. The two of them leave, and they have a fight brewing. Those of us left behind, we just say WTF????
My writer friend - the 30 year old - from NYC:
I am IM'ing with him as I write this. (I am also IMing with D the concert boy, and it feels good to be juggling again.) I am visiting him this weekend. He's single too. And I'm anxious to finish what we started last year. I've thought of him off and on since then, and as of late, we've talked more. I get some sweet texts from him like this:
"Dangerous. This city." Sent at 3 am on a Thursday night/Friday morning.
That's all. Enough that's he's not overt or stupid or dirty when he is drunk texting.
So he's trying to set up time for Absinthe at the Waverly Inn. I've got us set up at The Hudson. I'm starving myself starting NOW. (A lot of good that will do. I've kept the weight that I have lost off but haven't moved below 116 down to my goal of 110....oh well.) I predict that yes, these pipes will be clean. He's a cutie. He's thirty. He's got a full head of hair and he's more confident than that fuckwit I dated when my personality was in a coma.
Speaking of him. He DOES INDEED for sure dye his hair. He admitted it in an email to me today. That will have to wait. I am tired, I need to IM some more with that sweet NYC boy who is still smitten with me as his older woman fantasy before I call it a night.
Sorry I haven't written. Started on the actual novel and it took some juice out of me...
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