Pre Holiday Blues

I don't know why this week has been so hard on me...



I think its three things:

1. My impending birthday (inherently depressing, and last year was the beginning of getting back together with the lame ass ex...I could have done without the last year)


2. More research into my hearing loss (re-visiting my very limited options and getting devastated over this all over again)


3. Visiting my family in Philly next week (my mother hates when I am single and actually liked my ex; I don't have the heart to tell her the things that everybody else knows about him...my father knows little of the details about him but doesn't like him at all)

So I haven't been writing. Anything. I've done more research for my book (re watching The War, spending way too much time on the Military Channel) but haven't written any more chapters or outlines. I have been working. And smoking. And coaching gymnastics. I didn't even go out last weekend. At all.

But I digress. The real reason the three to four of you out there that read this is for the updates.

Last Thursday night I went out and Pirate Boy/Prison Break came with us. Fun. Hibernian. Red Room. Amra. Weirdo old guys hitting on me and my friend J and Prison Break was busy fending them off. He seemed to like it. We got dropped off at our cars and I tried to beg off kissing him (as I had a cold and told him so) and he insisted on kissing me. It was good. Really nice.

I promptly got very sick the next morning when my cold took a turn towards sinus infection.

Perhaps the same thing happened to him, or he got cold feet b/c his divorce isn't final, or he doesn't like me. Regardless, its been cricket city from him. For a whole week. No texting. No MySpacing. No email. Nada.

So Friday. Went to the Dr. Did not go out. Thought I would rest up for my date on Sat. with Concert Boy for the UNC/NCSU game. Told him Friday night, yeah, I'm getting better. Tomorrow will be fine.

Oh no. Tomorrow was not fine. I woke up Saturday morning with a pounding headache, a crusty nose, a rattling chest, and my sinuses were so infected that my teeth hurt. Had to call and cancel. I sounded like Bea Arthur/Brenda Vaccaro calling him, and he was gracious about it. He checked in with me several times, through calls and texts. Attentive. I liked it.

Saturday night. Feeling better. Out to dinner with my friend J and her daughter. Text from Mr. MLB.

"Whatcha up to tonite..."

Now, I'm not gonna tell him that I'll most likely curl up with Hitchens and read all night. No. Gonna make him think I am the busy girl that I usually am.

"Going downtown with friends"

And his response:

"When you gonna come pick me up?"

And I said:

"Already downtown. You gotta give me some warning..."

And he said, "Tell your boyfriend I'm coming to hang out tonite..."

So my response was, truthfully:

"No boyfriend here. No worries on that one..."

And he said:

"Well I guess I'm just gonna have to say you have fun tonite since you are already out...ttyl"

And that was it. For Saturday.

Sunday, the text started again. He wanted advice on what car to buy for himself that week. The choices he gave me (as he said he wanted a "lady's opinion") were:

Escalade

Hummer

Range Rover

So, of course, I was honest but trying to be funny.

"Escalade rides nice but is so played out. Hummer's seem like they are driven by dorky corporate white guys with something to prove. Range rover just says, I have 4wd and the Queen owns one as well..."

He says he's going with Range Rover.

The day goes by, and I get a Facebook invite from him. I had just joined Facebook last week, so I thought that was funny. He created his profile that day, and it actually had his real occupation on it. So, with that, he was telling me: Lady! I play pro ball here. Look at me!

We email a few times that night. Overall, a lot of activity. He asked me to get some thing to eat that night, but I was busy and told him so.

He asked me that same question on Wednesday and Thursday nights. Both nights I was like no, can't (Wed I had a business dinner at the Umstead and Thursday I was just tired) because it was too last minute. He's in Houston this weekend, and before he left, told me he wishes I was coming with him. All I said to that was, yeah, we'd tear up that town. Maybe next time.

I am actually going to have to go out with him soon, last minute ask or not. I've never dated a pro athelete, and never had me some FLAY VAH either. I'd like to cross both those off the list.

So Concert Boy sends me pics from the game. The story with him is he gave his reg tickets to his friends, and bought special, 47 yard line, 4 rows up from the Carolina Bench (and he a wolfpacker, no less) for me and him. Ugh. Special seats for me. Very nice. He was gracious about it.

I still think, however, that we are each other's backburner person. He's at a wedding this weekend. No one goes to weddings alone.

That's all I got, but I'm going out tomorrow night. More stories to come.

Too much enjoyment from MySpace

Mini me's been gone for a few days (fall break) so I've been out and about. Updates?

Concert boy, post hook up, has asked me to two hockey games and I've had to turn him down twice b/c of other plans. And just when I thought, man he's falling off the list, he asks me to next Saturday's NCSU game against UNC. It's UNC - I gotta go!

Prison Break guy went to Florida last Thursday for a boys weekend. Got some emails right up until he left. Woke up this morning with an alert on my Blackberry ("prison break guy has left you a comment on MySpace") and I get all excited. Dork. I go and look, and its one of those phishing comments for a Macy's card. Not a real comment. Felt dumb for being so excited. Just got over it and decided to blog.

Punk boy sent a random Happy Halloween comment to me - the Misfits playing a song he found off of YouTube- random but nonetheless brightened my day. Again, I'm a dork.

N the ex. Still up to his confusing tricks with the women in his life. Whatever, I've said my peace to him. We had a boys night out on Friday that was fun but low-key. But Dos Taquitos downtown sucks in terms of portions and no chips/salsa.

Met a new guy in the airport Friday. When I was dropping off mini-me for her trip to DC, he was there taking his four year old back to Philly and then turning around and coming back here on the next flight. We've emailed and exchanged numbers, but that's about it. The thing is, he didn't say what he does...just that he lives here only four months out of the year and also lived in Atlanta for college (we bonded over stories about kids and Atlanta).

So who works 8 months out of the year. Some consultants. College professors. And MLB players.

Yup, that's right. He's number 3 of that list, found him via a few snippets of info (first name, college, and the fact that he lived in NYC for 4 years) and confimed it via photo on a team roster. Said roster also confirmed him as single. He's cute, has probably 1-2 seasons left in his career. Plays for a shitty team that I used to love growing up. I had no idea who he was when we were talking in the airport. He was a cute dad with an adorable 4 year old. He lives in N. Raleigh, about 4 miles from me. We'll see where this one goes...

I should try baseball.

Jeans party tonite. Less than 1 month til my b-day. Attorney girl still very pregnant and due in the next three weeks.

And, dear readers, haven't I done a good job of washing that dickwit right outta my hair??? It's been over 4 months. And I still think he's the biggest ass.

Full weekend of new guys and a bad ex boyfriend

Bad ex boyfriend: The one who tries to love, but doesn't know how. Says all the right things but the actions don't match up. The one who makes all your other ex boyfriends actually look good, when you thought some of them were cads.

Or you can just call my bad ex boyfriend "Jackass of all trades."

I digress.

First, the positive.

Date with Prison Break. Yum. Met him at 7:30. 2 beers turned into many. We talked til 1am. Lovely time. He's funny as hell. He's cute as hell. We texted and messaged a few times over the weekend. Yum is all I can say. Next steps? I don't know, as he's going to Florida with buddies for a long weekend. I'll take it from there. However, I get a message from him at least once if not twice a day, and I'm diggin' it!!

Costume party with Fun Girl, Philly Girl and other folks. WHOOHOO. Loads of fun. No boys involved, but man did I have a good time. Dancing. Love dressing up. Second weekend in a row for the pirate costume. Ran into that rocker I had the DISASTROUS make out session with over a year ago, and just said hi and flirted a bit.

Not a word from Concert boy since I turned him down for hockey tix on Friday at 4;30. That's just too late to ask for a Friday night date. He's still back-burner guy. I've decided to go solo to my friend's b-day dinner this weekend rather than ask him...

The ex? The ex got his frickin' ring back. He told me that if I did not stop telling people about the door (he doesn't want anyone to get the IDEA that he's abusive b/c he says he is not. Says being the key word. We all know how well his words match up with his actions...) then he's going to go to my ex and tell him I've been neglectful of my dog and mini me.

Good luck I say. I've got nothing to worry about here. Your empty threats no longer work on me. You did break the door in my house, and you were an ass in public to me on numerous occasions. People saw how you are...

My lawyer girl has now advised me to start taping every call I get from him, or just not answer altogether.

His mojo no longer works, and I still have no sympathy for him. The best thing I got out of the conversations was saying this:

If you cared about me as a person half as much as you care what people in general think about you, we would still be together. However, you care far too much what everyone - coworkers, friends, and people you haven't met - thinks of you that you have no room to care for people. And the thing is, people think about you a lot less than you imagine they do. People have full lives, with problems, and issues, and general good and bad stuff. They just don't go around thinking about Hags the Fag all the time.

Write more later or tomorrow - its busy Monday for me.

If you could get him to admit to being a jackass, then that would be something

To begin about the new ruse...it was about BJs.

Now this was exactly the sort of lame-ass shit I was afraid of. Told my friends - Vegas, Rock Star, Rock Star 2 - about it. They all agreed its going to keep going on because he is the biggest social moron there is. He has no idea he's being arrogant, or bothersome. Love the low social IQ on that one. This will ensure he is always going to be a problem for some girl, some where. God help her.

But I digress.

I don't answer for 24 hours. Had to discuss it with the posse, as ruses like this have become cocktail fodder for us. (He might be mortified to know how often we chuckle over his lame social skills and his masturbatory activities over Pimms or Stoli.) I decide to answer with a simple email:

I do not use the membership.

If I did need to, I would simply go buy a new membership for $40.

This is exactly the sort of frivolous message I was hoping to avoid. Please respect my wishes and do not contact me in any way.

Immediately he responds:

Trying to be courteous. Not foster communication.

Don't even get me started on courtesy. He can use please and thank you while he's being evil or shitting on people, and he feels he should get points for manners. This gets me going. I write:

Frankly, you're a bit past being courteous, considering your past actions. Consider yourself blocked from all email addresses.


He responds with:

you have a selective memory

you can, and will, do as you please

Well hello ee cummings. What up with the all lowercase and no punctuation. No doubt trying to save time. He used to text me the most bizarre messages, using absolutely no vowels and lots of numbers, and they were almost indecipherable. I think he somehow thought this was cool.

So this week. This week I get a call from Salon Blu about his every 3 weeks appointment. Now, who goes to the salon every three weeks. Who? Who?

Someone who does indeed dye his hair. What a pussy.

So I am tired of getting these calls. I've yelled at the people to stop calling. They don't listen. I send him an email:

Subject: I don't need to know when you cut and dye your hair

Body: Please tell Salon Blu to stop calling here about your appointments.

He writes back, again, almost immediately:

So sorry. I've asked them. Not sure why they are not complying.

Good call on the dye job. How did you know?

Check out dooce.com. You are good enough to do that.

Again, sorry. Have fun in New York.

I don't write back. I want to. I want to respond to everything in there. I want to say the following:

They aren't complying because you didn't change the number, you lazy fuck.

How did I know? You LOOK like you dye your hair. It's obvious.

Hello, my cat's name is mittens Mr. Non Sequitur. I do actually blog, and some of it is way funnier that than boring blog b/c we have such great material to laugh about.

I told Fun Girl that I couldn't believe he so non-chalantly admitted to dying his hair. She said, in that breezy ease of hers, that if I could get him to admit to being a jackass, then that would have been something. But the dye job? Eh. People expect that sort of pansy ass shit out of him.

I began to realize I was too old to not have furniture in my living room, no matter what the circumstances

So I bought this Mitchell Gold sofa at a steep, steep discount. Thanks to Fun Girl and her interior design job...do you like?

I got it at basically 55% off. Huge deal. Delivered next week. No more sitting on the floor. And at my age, there was really no excuse, no excuse whatsoever for not having one. I had nowhere to make out with my dates...what are we gonna do, roll around on the floor?

Let's call him whackoff smirnoff

Not too much happening. Quick round-up of events:

Had a small gathering on Friday night, and got to meet N's, the ex, new squeeze. We'll call her Philly girl. I think he's uncomfortable with her - he says its like dating him in that she's dating around and doesn't care what he thinks. Well, I said, karma is a bitch, isn't it?

Headed down to Oak Island/Southport for the rest of the weekend early Sat, very hungovah, and had McDonald's on the way down. There went my diet for the rest of the weekend.

The weekend was very fun, but not too much to report on. Nice house, gracious and generous hosts who paid for everything, and a lot of drinking. A lot. Started at 11 am and didn't stop all day. My liver was begging me to leave. We made many jokes about the ex - the subject line is but just one:

• He was banking at Whackovia and making many deposits in the spank bank
• Let's stop referring to him as whack a mole. Let's call him whackoff smirnoff. He liked the vodka, didn't he?

There was five of us, with me as odd man out, til Saturday night. A guy named Tom was coming over. One of my friends said, hey, maybe (insert my name here) could hit that. And my other friend, said, no I'm not gonna let that happen. I think he's gay, too effeminate.

Of course I am thinking to myself - ooooh love the fem guys. If he looks like he might be gay, bring it on. I'm all about that. Let him look like Richard Butler, or some of the guys I dated in the 80's. Please!

I come downstairs after getting ready and there he is at the counter, eating shrimp. And I think to myself, wow, that's not at all the person I expected. My friend wasn't gonna let me hit it b/c he's too fem...

She isn't gonna let me hit it because he's too fat.

He was easily, easily 300 pounds. Ugh.

He was fem, but he was sooooo large. I was not digging it at all.

Have not heard from the 10th grade ex. Crickets. I think he's changed his mind about seeing me...oh well.

Off to work.

Sunday, from ex mother in laws to Nickelback, the hits keep comin'

Sunday morning.

I had to go pick up mini me and he grandmother (my ex mother in law) at 10 am. This was not the original plan. This was not supposed to happen til around 4. But plans change, kids need to go back to DC, and I am left entertaining and hosting my ex mother in law for a full 24 hours.

I wasn't particularly close to this woman when I was married to her son, and now? Well, she is mini-me's grandmother, and they get to spend another day together, and all I need to do is let her stay here and bring her to the airport on Monday morning. It was okay, just not what I had wanted my Sunday to be.

Sunday night, however, was full of surprises. I took mini-me, begrudgingly, to Nickelback with Harley Girl and her own mini-her. It was my mini-me's first concert, and it was a doozy. I saw:

• A lot of people. None of whom I knew. Did not run into a single person I knew. Odd for me, but maybe not, considering the crowd.
• The crowd. The crowd. There was a not so diverse crowd. Most people were aged 18-25, and particularly cheesy. Pretty white. The 24 year old version of me would never have been at this concert, for sure.
• A lot of rednecks. Lots of people from Fayetteville and Garner, knowhutimean?
• A weird guy with yacht hair and khakis. Clearly he had lost his way and thought he was coming to see DMB.
• A girl wearing a shirt that said "Little Miss Trouble." I clearly got the trouble part. However, there was nothing little about her and clearly she had not missed any meals in the last 20 years.
• Lots of tits. Lots of girls flashing the camera, just before and during Nickelback's set. Wow. I told the girls, "Don't be that girl when you are older..." They won't listen I bet, but I least I did my job and warned them not to.
• Girls, about 15, smoking in the bathroom. It bothered me a bit. Someone had to give them those cigarettes....

So now comes the funny part. I took mini me to this, but really don't like the songs too much with the exception for "I know who you are" (I like your pants around your feet, I like the dirt that's on your knees...) The concert started, and I looked over, and there's my mini-me, wearing her black t-shirt, hands in the air, screaming, looking like she has been going to concerts her whole life. Ahhh this is good. I'm gonna remember this. She's never gonna forget it.

I loved the concert.

I did.

Really.

They were good. They sounded good. They played well. There was pyrotechnics, fire, sing along parts, lots of good conversation with the crowd ( and more than "we love you Raleigh") and the songs were just FUN. They covered Elton John's Saturday Night. They did my two favorite songs at the end. The live version of Someday gave me chills up my neck, with the crowd singing along. I was right there with them. I jumped in and the water was just fine. I sang every word to that song Someday, and it was a weird sort of therapy for me, thinking back on both situations with D the fiancee and the Social Moron while singing the words. It was a song that was popular when the fiancee and I broke up, but it played out more to the situation with he who should not be named. I think, in the end, that singing some of these song lines just ended up being a sort of meditation to the universe for me, the music was loud, it was dark, it was crowded, I was dancing. Everyone around was singing as loud as they could. Everything just was really, really good at those moments. I didn't want to be anywhere else. The best moments:

• How the hell did we wind up like this?
• You're the only one who knows that...
• If everyone loved, and nobody lied...
• Show me what its like to be the last one standing...
• I hate that places that we go, I hate the people that you know...

I would say there were 6 songs - all of them the big radio hits - that were really, really amazing to hear. Just to sing along with mini-me and mini-harley, just to sing out in general.

Photograph was not one of them. I still fucking hate that song.

The lead singer really knows how to drop an f-bomb. Wow did the girls get an earful. I know my coolness meter has now dropped to an all time low, but I clearly don't give a fuck. I loved that show. Live music gets me. They were LOUD. I think I'm a fan now. How could I not be?

Mini-me's take on the way home?

"God mom, that was just awesome."

Raleigh version of the Striped Shirt email...

I got this email about Striped Shirt club guys, and it just hit way too close to home. We all recognized the striped shirt guy we know.

I've modified the original a bit to make it fit even better. Here's our local, personalized version:

Look at My Striped Shirt Raleigh!

Look at my buttondown striped shirt!

I bought it at Banana! Or at FCUK! I know how to dress!

Fucking look at it! Look at my chest hair poking out of it!

This shirt means one thing! I'm coming home with some pussy tonight! That's right! Its been a long week at the office, and its time to blow off a little steam! I am single mid-thirties guy! I am a Marketing Manager! I have an MBA! I work in RTP! I have business cards that say Marketing Manager - WW! on them! I do regular conference calls with China! Here! Have one! Take it!

My boys are coming out with me tonight! They all have striped shirts too! We're going to Glenwood South! We all call each other by our last names! None of them are as cool or as good looking as me, which means I can feel good at myself at their expense! And I get first crack at the hot girls! I figure we'll kick off the night with some Trivia! I went to Princeton! I am going to beat the hell out of all of you! Its going to be so fucking loud! Ill bet I can win a bar card that gets me 20 bucks worth of free drinks! I'm that fucking pumped! I'm that fucking cheap!

I can almost taste those vodka sodas right now! I might need a Red Bull! I'm thinking about buying foreign, overpriced car this year! I live in Oberlin Court! I live inside the beltline! My address makes me cool! I have an ego bigger than the RBC Center!

I'm gonna grind on girls asses tonight! You heard me! When I see a group of girls dancing in a circle at White Collar, I will stare at them to make them notice me! I went to Princeton! Staring makes me cool! I am 35 but I like 'em 28! I will select the thinnest, dumbest, youngest looking one and dry hump her until it hurts! I will only dance with shorter ones so they cannot see the spreading baldness I have!

I will valet tonight at Sullivan's! I will treat the valet with contempt and make sure that he knows that I am superior to him in life! I went to Princeton! Clearly he didn't! I work in RTP! Clearly he doesn't! I will tell him, Take it easy on the brakes, champ! I will tip him badly! I'm that fucking cheap!

At Hibernian, I will talk to people I don't know about my job tonight! They will all know that I am an important man! I am corporate RTP! I travel! I have been to South Africa! I went to Princeton! I have been to China! I have jumped out of an airplane! Once! I live inside the beltline! I have a blackberry pearl! I will call female bartenders babe and male bartenders dude! I will not tip too much! I'm that cheap! When I do not hook up with a girl at Mosaic, I will say that the place is full of skanks! Raleigh sucks!

We will wait in a long line to go to Ess Lounge, only to strike out again! It's not my fault, its Raleigh! I will give up and decide to order a gyro off a street vendor! I will look ridiculous purchasing my gyro, because people will be able to tell by my striped shirt and tinted sunglasses and pigeon chest that I struck out and am settling for a gyro! I went to Princeton! I will make one last attempt to hook up by trying to coax two girls who are also ordering gyros into coming back to my place for after hours! When they say no I will make fun of them! I think I am so funny! I will text ex-girlfriends who are out of town so it looks like I know people! They don't answer so they suck!

I will leave! I will drive home to Cameron Village in my Ford! When I get home I will go to the bathroom and hold the straight razor to my wrist again! But not until I have a good round of masturbation! I will gently drag the razor laterally against my vein, making sure not to actually cut myself!I will then go to my couch and pass out! I will need some shuteye so that Ill be ready to fucking party again tomorrow!

I am so cool! I have chest hair! I work in RTP! I went to Princeton!

2 week summary o' fun

So far, its been little tears and pity save for the first 48 hours. I have some items to report:

Fun Girl and I are just, well, so much fun! together. We've gone out twice and both nights were the best I have had in months. Dancing. Flirting. Lots of attention. I forgot about this. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me for staying in that relationship so long.

We had a night at the Jackpot! that included a ton of dancing (rare for that bar in my past experience there) to PB&J Young Folks and then Michael Jackson's Beat It. Somehow it all worked, and the vibe was just so perfect. You couldn't manufacture that sort of fun, and none of the places on Glenwood South have that going for them. Raleigh Times was good if only for adoration. What an ego boost!

The funniest best night so far was the MOST unexpected. I met a work friend at the Angus Barn, a sweet woman who is lively and pretty and southern and very enthusiastic. She has loads of energy and its infectious - so I love to be around her. We had drinks. Commiserated over job losses, job gains, and my hearing loss on my right side. She set me up over the phone with a friend of hers - a guy she called a true southern gentleman - who she says is sweet and very generous and available as of two weeks ago and ohbytheway he's got a big ol mercedes and big ol boat. Sounds good - where do I sign up? I like mercedes better than ford contours anyday. He and I talk on the phone (let's call this guy SG - southern gent) and then my friend and I go to pay our bill.

The bartender explains that someone has bought my second drink.

"Who?" I ask, thinking its one of those pot-bellied, good ol boys to my left.

"Oh, he's dining downstairs..." replies the bartender, who just at that moment was looking very cute himself.

I explained that I wanted to thank my patron. The bartender said, "Oh I can find him."

So we wait. I truly expect a 50-something, corporate average joe. Maybe a Phil Mickelson type. What walks up just blows me away.

He's cute. He's mid thirties. He's got all his hair. He's got no dunlop belly. He's tall. He's fit. He's got an unbelievable smile. WOW. Not at all what I expected. Life is good.

I thank him, profusely. Tell him it made my night - how can I repay?

"Let me take you out..."

Nice. Done and Done. Two dates made within 10 minutes of each other. And this second one - oh yummy.

He did call yesterday, wanting to set up the date. I returned his call - we're now playing tag.

The list of ridiculous things from he who should not be named

I actually have a guide to being dumped. Before you think that sounds pathetic, realize that it has sped up the process of me getting over Hags the Fag -old Hottie's new name- at what I would call a ridiculous pace. (That and my friends all acting as my own personal Dr. Fritz Fassbender...http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0059903/)

But I digress.

So I have followed the instructions in the book. First step is to cut off contact and most importantly, never ever contact him. Done and done. I've taken him out of my phone. I've blocked him from IM at work (we work at sister companies who still share an IM system but hopefully not for long) and from Yahoo! mail (bless you Yahoo! for easy functionality in this area.)

He still calls for stupid reasons, but he's the one doing it. I answer every tenth call or so. I think he's lame, and the more he calls for stupid reasons, the more unattractive and lame he gets.

So no calling. No getting drunk and calling. No texting. No getting drunk and texting. No stalking him on MySpace or Facebook or Friendster. All of my friends now get a ridiculous number of calls from me b/c instead of picking up the phone to call him, I call or text them.

I avoid places in Raleigh where he might be. No Glenwood South. It's cheesy as hell anyway and that's his stomping ground. He like 'em young and stupid. (One of the girls he dated has "Lifetime Movies" on her set of likes on MySpace. Who likes those? Who admits to that? Snooze. Have at it boy...they are all yours!) Fun girl and I have had some adventures in the past two weeks that involved places he would never go, mostly b/c he's just not cool enough to know about or get in.

And this has been good for me. The time away, with little to no contact, has put some things in perspective and made some random comments he's made come back to me, and I can now view him in a new, more realistic light. Mainly, I originally thought he was a prize but really, he's just one big cheeseball with good manners on the outside and a cruel, selfish streak on the inside. I guess I was slumming for the last 18 months.

Here's some stuff randomly listed, mostly for my own purpose (this blog is therapy too) and because the book advocates it actually WRITING IT DOWN so that it sinks in. So here goes:

• "Oh, you like Jennifer Hudson b/c no matter how big you get, she will always be bigger than you..." (Huh? Honestly...who says shit like this?)
• "I hope you don't think my friends look down on you..." (Said randomly on the way to a BBQ...I would hope his friends' wouldn't considering that I've accomplished more, earn more, and actually own my own home - unlike him)
• "My mother likes you more than she likes me, mostly b/c you are a girl." (What?? Paging Dr. Freud...)
• Taking me ring shopping, twice (once at North Hills and once at Crabtree) , then pulling back saying we weren't ready, that we needed more time, that I was doubting his commitment. (Yeah I doubted it for sure at that point - did he think doing this was going to make me feel better?)
• "Bartenders only like you b/c you have breasts..."(But the ridiculous over-tipping, respect and friendly conversation put forth has no influence whatsoever???)
• Telling me that I was wrong to put limits on the relationship by saying this summer was going to be do or die for me, that I wasn't going to waste my time with a man who was clearly not ready to commit. (So somehow I was wrong for saying that, but the limit he put on it by putting the engagement on hold was okay? Huh? Goose-gander!)
• "Don't worry about your weight. I have a sickness for da thickness."
• "Pillsbury Dough Girl" (Andohbytheway, I am a size 2...you jackass!)
• He couldn't commit to anything in his life and here's the list of examples with his "opinions" in parentheses:

1. Lasik surgery (Why do that now when my eyes will change in my late 40's? What do those doctor's know about the long term effects?)
2. Car (The Infiniti G series doesn't have all the attributes I want, and until it does I am going to drive my POS, anti-gold digger machine ahem Ford Contour with the loud fan and the crappy stereo)
3. House (Why buy a house when Raleigh is a really uncool place to live, full of boring, small minded people...I want to move to a city where I pay more for housing, and drive through more traffic, all so I can say I live in a big city and be cool. Also I like ignoring the advice that a home purchase has great tax advantages - what do finance/accountants/most of college-educated America know over me anyhow?)
4. Phone (Just not sure what I want and I am super happy keeping this Atlanta number so my dorky exes and my ugly, Brett Farve-loving fuck buddy can keep in touch with me)
5. Children (All I talk about is wanting to be a father but when faced with the decision, I just can't do it)
6. Job (Hate my current job at crappy Chinese computer company and drive people crazy with my moodiness and haugtiness but I am too much of a fraidy-cat to leave)

So, folks, he's a pussy. And here's the list of things that my friends and acquaintances, most who know him on his own, say about him:

• Pussy
• Ass wipe
• THAT guy...he's THAT guy. Who knew he lived in Raleigh???
• Dickwit
• Idiot
• Social Moron (my personal favorite, said by several)
• Emotionally vacant
• Sociopathic
• Bi-polar (our cleaning woman said this one...love it)
• Cruel
• Cad
• Hags the Fag (because of his sexist viewpoint and blatant hero-worshipping of his male friends)

Ahhh I feel better already, don't you, dear readers? Catharsis. Evacuation of poison. It's all good.