Meaning of Christmas

Because no one can tell me what to do, I went against my friend's wishes to not exchange gifts this year and put together a meaningful gift (he had mentioned needing a scarf in regular conversation) and a gag gift (got my very Italian friend a little Black angel Christmas tree ornament. Friend win.) Not to be out done, he took this whole gifting thing to a dark place and made it a competition. Here he is talking isht about his present for moi.

Quinto: I will win the ornament discussion

Me: Lol this was not meant to be a competition! You are ruining the meaning of the delightful Black angel!

Quinto: The Black angel is awesome. I'm just going to beat it.

Me: ...you wanna re-word that?

Quinto: Nope, I stand by the whole thing.

I have to ask...

...is that smile just for me?







                                                               You have no idea how much I hope it is.

Roomba

I have some amazing guy friends who are sincere, caring, thoughtful, honest, (and single, ladies *wink*). They put up with my shenanigans and my constant requests for insightful advice that I inevitably neglect while in hot pursuit of my next regret.

One of my new favorite people, (and producer of our pending podcast) Quinto, is often subjected to my stories. While I was recounting the flaky actions of one particular bad decision, he cut me off to deliver this gem:


"I got it. I got it. Look, it sounds to me like most of these guys you're dealing with are just like a Roomba- you know, the little robotic vacuum that that rolls across the floor, bounces back and changes direction when it runs into an obstacle."

"A Roomba just looking to put things in places?" I ask. "Yea," he responds, "perfect! They try their luck with you, they get a wall, they bounce back and try their luck in another room, and occasionally they make it back to you. Bounce back. Try their luck somewhere else. Come back to you. Meets the wall. Repeat."

No more Roombas.

Achilles' heel

Realizing, even still, that I am a sucker for blue eyes and a nice smile.


                  Hope you didn't notice my knees buckle as I approached.


                                                                    I have a reputation to maintain and all that. . .

Liquidation.

When left to my own devices, I am decisive. I can declare "I am over you" like the rapids course over a pebble.

Then I see that sideways smirk. And your confident stride. And those kind, brown eyes.


And I melt like an ice cube on a hot stone.

A good guy: my new norm

So I was describing this WONDERFUL guy I've started dating to a friend. I seek her advise as I'm a little nervous because he's AMAZING and, if you've kept up with my blog you'll know, I'm not used to this kind of guy. "I've never been treated like this before!" I begin "He's so sweet, respectful, patient. When I ask for something, it's taken care of! He's considerate. He's perfect!" 

My friend responded, "Well, yea, this is how you're supposed to be treated. . .so enjoy it! [pauses, probably perplexed] Wait what do you mean you've never been treated like this before?- You know what, never mind, I don't want to know- this is how you're supposed to be treated so don't worry and just enjoy."

Taste for "vanilla"

I'm beginning to see the appeal for "the boring". For someone who is the foil to the crazy pace of life.


This stems from a few things: first being the tendency for guys I date to drop me like a bag of bricks for the next aesthetically pleasing, tame thing that walks on by.  The second is from a crush I have on a coworker who's from an external vendor. 

My work crush is probably, or at least seemingly, the most vanilla person I've ever met. But he always greets me with a sweet, off-center smile. Who doesn't want that? Someone who is 1) happy to see you 2) willing to show this excitement in a socially acceptable manner.

So yes, I doubt I'll introduce him to my nightlife habits and pasties outfits, BUT I'd definitely take him up on a cup of coffee from the the work kiosk if he ever offered. I'd probably order a flavored coffee or chai, just to spice things up, but still. . .

High School Called

"Those two either need to f*ck or fight." A friend's comment on my and a high school rival's more recent interactions...


I can assure you the more fun of the two will not be going down. And either way, I fight dirty and play rough.

Testing loyalties

I still hang out with some of the friends of my 'ex' waste of time [because his friends are AW-some]. One of the latest to turn to the Beige side [referencing my complexion-see bio picture if you're not familiar] accompanied me and some other friends of mine to a holiday party featured at a local strip joint.  Here's our conversation during the beginning moments of our budding friendship:

Me: Welcome to my life. [Grins, opens arms wide in a welcoming gesture.]

Friend: I can't believe this is your life. [Looks around with boyish wonder.] It's like a movie!

Me: You know you want to be my friend. Why fight it any longer? I know where your loyalties lie, and I am sure he does also. I am awesome, and you know this. It will be ok [places hand on his shoulder], you can have both worlds. Now come [places hand on his shoulder blade], let's watch Fuego drop it like it's hot [we both turn to the stage and watch the next performer.]

Pick your spots (because he asked for it)

Texts message conversation about our impromptu visit to a local titty bar for its holiday party event night:

Quinto: You never know when trivia is gonna turn into stripper Christmas, so pick your spots. I did.

Quinto: That is solid life advice. Blog that shit.

Pros and Cons

On the one hand, I sincerely want nothing more in the world than to care for him and make him smile and support him and his dreams as he would do the same for me.


On the other, I really don't look forward to turning down all the free stuff I get from men still hoping to score...Their gamblers logic has been most profitable for me.

Diversity adverstising

Text message conversation between me and a guy I met one night. He had come from work, and although his profession is not in education, he looked like a classic university professor- hence his nick name:

The Professor: In Hoboken.....Ugly fat girls..... =(

Me: Is this your way of saying you miss us small town ladies?

The Professor: I ended up finding a Levi Jeans model =)...Sucker for long legs

Me: Haha, thadda boy! Way to turn that frown upside down.

The Professor: She looked like you.

Me: In the sense that she too has breasts? In which case, I'm sure she and I could be twins! Lol.

[Long pause in his response.]

Me: You're not in trouble. No need to BS ;)

The Professor: She has your complexion. I must be advertising I need a little diversity. ;)

Me [thinks]: A billboard would be more appropriate at this point.

Black Onyx.

Earlier this year I met a great man. He's funny, sharp- in both wit and dress- can dance, caring, genuine, fun to look at, all around perfect.

So naturally I blew him off for the remainder of this year for less worthy subjects.


As luck would have it, by the end of this year, he and I happened to cross pass paths again. An apology was exchanged (along with a shot of top shelf tequila) from me to him and we got to talking.  The following Sunday night we met up for dinner and movie. He covered everything and demanded nothing in return.

The next time we met up was the Thursday night of that same week we reunited.  We met up with friends. We successfully got plastered. Lit. Gone. Half way between Mendoza and San Juan. Drunky pants. This state was achieved by 11pm. With the night still so very young, we decided to meet up with other friends at a late night art expo at a local club. At the venue, one of the remaining vendors was a crystal jewelry shop. Our friends happened to be next to this jewelry stand.  My date and I approach my friends.

Correction, I approach my friends, he stares at the table display of various crystal jewelry designs and declares " you need a crystal. [He noticed the small animal display piece soon after noticing the necklaces.] A crystal, and an animal skull." He then asks if I like this large clear quartz that's attached to a leather cord to make a necklace. I decline, and since he seems determined, I glance at the displays in front of me. I notice a black onyx crystal wrapped in gold wiring hanging by a black metal chain.

"Here, this one. I like this one." I pick it up and show it to him. "Cool, you put that on," he says to me, "and you take my money" he says to the vendor lady. "Cool." She smiles and goes to get his change.

Second date and he buys me jewelry. A black onyx. For protection.

Spare pair.

In the heat of the moment, he literally ripped my panties off. I would have been very turned on...




...if it wasn't one of my favorite pair.

True friend moment.

Text message conversation between me and the most interesting man I know:

Me: I'm being mopey at home in sweatpants watching Glee.
Quinto: You get one mopey night. That's it.
Me: Hey?!? What?! I'm not agreeing to this lol
Quinto: Just one. Then back on that horse. The world needs a non-mopey Kristina. We depend on it. You're the lighthouse. So pick it the fuck up.

Ace of Hearts.

That insecure moment when you wonder if it was all just a ruse and he duped you into having feelings for him just to save face...


The capricious fool.

Purchasing his replacement.

I saw a former flame a few nights ago. After about an hour or so of catching up, I was in a hurry to get on to the rest of my evening plans.

Immediately after leaving said flame, I was in a local "adult pleasantries" shop. 


Upside to being a female between the ages of 18 and 200 is I can't imagine this sequence of events being judge worthy. 


Boom, life win.

Like meeting in a grocery store, but not.

One of my biggest fears was walking into an 'adult accessory store" [read: sex shop] and running into someone I know. In all fairness, this person should be equally embarrassed for whatever reason they are in that store [right?]. 


As it turns out, a university where I art model offers an art/psych class on human sexual behaviorism that includes a field trip to a local sex shop.



Nothing like running into a group of people who have seen you naked as you purchase necessary single-girl accessories. . .

Finding purpose.

Funniest thing you can hear while in a sex shop:

"Where does it go?"

Best answer (in this specific scenario):

"On your foot- it's for your foot."

Sex Shops and Patrons

The creepiest thing about walking into a sex shop at any time of night is, if you are a female between the ages of 18 and dead, there will be any number of creepy middle aged men who will be in that same store purchasing some synthetic version of something you're just walking around with all carefree about life...

Eyewear as accesories

I lost my glasses the other day, conveniently before meeting up with a former flame my mother all but approved of.  This is the exchange between my mom and me while looking for my spectacles:
 
Me: "I usually wear my contacts out because 'guys don't make passes at girls with glasses.'"
Mom: "Considering the guys you've been dating, maybe you should start putting your glasses on when you go out."
Me: o_0'

The "Not" Girlfriend

Sometimes, when he's asked, "Oh, so she's your....?" and he replies, "Friend." I really want to place one hand on my hip, turn to him and remark, "That's not what you saaaiiiiid last night!" Full Black-woman head snake and all.
 

Size matters.

Chick at the bridal store said she'd pull me a size 6 to get me fitted. I said 4 or 6 should work. She brought back both (smart woman) and when I closed the clasp on the size 4 she exclaimed, 'Oh, you are a 4!"

Don't look so surprised, b****. Question me again and I will cut you.

Mexican Tap Water

A tweet on Texts from Last Night reads, "I know he'd never cheat on me. It'd be like choosing Mexican tap water over Patron."

Honey, sometimes a man is thirsty and he'll risk a mean case of the shits to get some...

Gender appropriate conversations

Text message conversation:

Me: I have to go to a bridesmaids' dress fitting for my sister's wedding. I'm freaking out!

Quinto: You'll be ok. This is more of a girlfriend conversation maybe?

Me: Ooo, wrong box.

When you're right, you're right

I first used this expression to put out a developing argument between my divorced parents one time when I was a teen. It had since stuck with me as it has some validity. When you are correct in your thought- word- deed- what have you, and I mean undeniably in the right, though no others may recognize your rightness, then all you want is for sometime to acknowledge that you are indeed right. Sometimes that's all someone wants. They don't want to just peacefully back down without any recognition of the pride they are swallowing to appease the opposed party.

That all being said: you, sir, were right. Your delivery sucked, but the content is true.


Here's to finding my Mr. Right.


Because when you're right, you're right.

Chivalry has a chance

To the two teenage boys who held the door to Dunkin Donuts open for me this morning:

Thank you both for your kind gesture that reaffirmed my faith in mankind and expedited my acquiring of my peppermint mocha fix.

Warm Regards.

Turn ons exclude.

Found out today that the idea of a relationship with me is a huge turn off, BUT nooooot with that other woman.


Awwwweeesome.

Merciful

Well, here we are.

                                                                      Full circle.


                                                                I was crestfallen.


                                                                     Then angry.

     And now I've come to be saddened, remorseful, and really hoping you are equally tortured    
                                                 and willing to put us both out of our misery.






                                                                                                  Show some mercy,

Please make your move.

Althought it's nice to be thought of...

Receiving the text,  "wyd now?" [read: 'what (are) you doing now?'], at 3:01am can only translate to: "sex me, please, yes?"

Quinto was right

It's probably never a good sign when your quick-witted, equally blunt, 'guys'-guy' of a friend 1) calls you on your crazy-girl shit and 2) is right by the advise he gives you.


All right, I give up. I'll listen more often. Just don't let this post go to your head...

Check, please?

So apparently, in a mistaken effort to help my friend "score" last night, the waitress advised him not to warn me upon my return how strong she made my drink. I can only imagine what she said, but I'm sure it was along the lines of "Consented to or not, someone's gettin' lucky tonight!" 




I think he still gave her a good tip...

Prince charming is horseshi-

Dear Fairy Tales,

I believe your story of Aladdin is the most accurate as far as attractive men with wealth finding his one true love and doing everything in his (and his gini's) power to win her over.

It's been my personal experience that the "prince", who may be charming, is rarely after one damsel in distress, sleeping beauty, or headstrong princess.  It's more or less like 'all of the above', plus any supporting maidens, probably a few other leading ladies from other stories, maids, extras, the evil witch; that whore, Sarah (I hate that skank), and so on and so forth until the end of time....


I understand you stories are to delight youngsters and fill their hearts with hope....but please provide some sort of exit interview from childhood so we can save a lot of headache and heartache in our later years.

Thanks.


Warmest Regards.

Open relationships

Get the fuck outta here with that mess! If I'm gonna be crazy jealous because I see you with another girl, I'm gonna need  a reason for my jealousy (i.e. feelings of betrayal, mistrust, etc.) so that my jealousy makes sense (maybe not may actions thereafter, but I digress). I can't have that satisfaction in knowing I'm not irrational if the opening agreement is "I can bone whom I want when I want and you have no say in my actions. You do, however, get the adorable pet names and to put up with my bullshit when I'm not being tolerable."

Fuck. That.

Be not surprised when I walk away, middle finger to you and your jackass ways.


-Cheers

Riding out the storm.

So I can't be that much of an ingrate because he did take me in from the storm that passed through the east coast recently, but I will bring this exchange to light. You see, my dear friend and podcast partner, Quinto, agreed to put me up (and drive me to work if need be?! What?! Yes, ladies, he is single) for a few days if where I lived lost power and/or if public transit was suspended a few more days. His one condition? "Bring snacks" he replied. Obviously, the day before the storm, there were slim pickins at the local general store.  I grabbed what I could and headed over to his place. Here's what he had to say about my selection:

Quinto: [grimaces] I have an allergy to generic brand food products, so I'll have to pass.

Me:[pauses. blinks. replies:]...I hate you.


Day one of storm refugee. We were off to a great start.

The wedding invite.

My friend, Quinto, is souped for his sister's wedding. That's a horrible lie. SO he invites me to come along for entertainment purposes only.  My college friend is visiting from out of state the same weekend as the wedding. Well, he scores an extra +2 and it's a go for college friend and me. Here's how the [in]formal invite went down via text: 

Quinto: "Just got a plus two for the wedding. You in? Bring your friend."

Me: "Sure, I'll give her the heads up."

Quinto: "It's at the science center. Can't dress too slutty."

Me: "Thanks, wasn't planning on dressing slutty at all actually..."

Building v. Established

"I thought we were building something," he argues.

I thought we were already established, you see, and my efforts to support this foundation illustrated my cemented beliefs.


Silly me. The relationship was built on something like quicksand.

Gentlemen do not prefer blondies.

Flipping through my cookbook for a dynamite recipe for the office bake-off this coming week, I stumble across a photocopied recipe for a dessert I wouldn't otherwise make.

"You've got to be kidding me," an embarrassed, cheeky smile rolls across my face, "I made him his favorite dessert?!" I then exclaim. "I- I seriously made his favorite dessert?!" I ask again, still in disbelief. "I looked up the recipe to, and then made his favorite dessert?! What is- what is wrong with me?!?!"


What is wrong with me? Better question, what is wrong with him?

Shameless Book Plug!

Check out my lovely mentor's latest work, please

http://uiehartford.eventbrite.com/

Pass!

I ride the bus every morning to work. There's a young mother and her son who ride with me. Today, the darling 4-year-old boy extends his palm out to me and squeals, 'Pass!' Naturally, I collect the nonexistent object from his hand, and, of course, pass it to the woman to my right, who then tosses it back to the little boy across from us. Who knew such little hands held such great influence?

Tutoring

I have a new tutor. Who is a straight, single, male between the age of 21 and 35, AND he has neither seen me naked NOR has any desire to.


I'm actually learn some math skills from this guy.




A-mazing!

Single Red Rose.

I know I often I focus on the negative in this blog, so let's have a happy story for a change:

The absolute sweetest thing a guy has ever done for me happened back in the 5th grade.

On Valentines' Day, I walked into the classroom to find a single, rose-shaped Russell Stovers (yea, the good sh*t) chocolate valentine on my assigned desk.

To this day, I have no idea who left me this very sweet gesture.  


And I'm sorry to say- in my naivety I thought it was put on my desk in error and wasn't meant for me, so I gave it to the only chick in our grade who had a boyfriend because I knew even at that age, that sweet gestures on what boyfriends do (good God I wish I had kept that mind set 10 years down the line).

So, to whomever you are, sorry I was naive and thank you very much for my first, only, and bestest Valentine ever.



Warmest Regards.

"Do the spinnies!!"

Cheered my male friend at the pole dancing expo as I performed some pole and floor dance moves.



Didn't help he was dressed in a suit and tie, having just come from his job down at the city capital.


 
I naturally responded, "Heeeeeeeeeeeey Mr. Politician, you lookin' for some scandal tonight?"


Funny where one's college education can land one.

Dear Next Guy,

I am so sorry for the residual crazy, over reactions you will experience as a result of the mistrust and mistreatment experienced by me delivered by your predecessor. I can only hope that you will have the patience to endure it and I can promise to make it up to you if you can make it through the long haul.


Happily,

Yours, truly.

A glass of wine before deforesting.

For various reasons, I do my own landscaping (euphemism alert). I did that once sober. Never again.


Sober, I mean.

Married life.

My married friends are awesome. Super interesting, and just as fun as when they were an exclusively dating couple, and seeking individuals.  Lucky single lady friend am I! Now if only they had awesomely single friends. . .

Winning.

When you're grade school crush, out of the blue- the first contact made since finding and friending on the social network site many, many years ago- 'likes' a picture of you that shows off your curves and ability to properly apply makeup/comb your hair.

I'm not proud...

but I should admit




                                        I miss you.

Like, a lot.

My friends think I'm crazy.

Last Saturday, while hanging out with DW and some friends, I was lamenting [read: 'ranting about'] my romantic decisions over the last few months. Two days later, I receive these texts:

DW: For that guy.

DW:

Shopping addiction

Filling the void in my closet with things.


Cute, wearable things.

Ay, Ay, Captain.

I'm slow dancing with a charming wedding attendee. We exchange 'resume' information- current occupation, where we went to school, where we're from, how we know the bride and groom, etc. We then share this exchange :

Me: When is the s'mores making happening?

He: They don't have any chocolate or graham crackers.

Me: What?!

[He shrugs and flashes a smile]

[Feeling emboldened, I respond]: I will ask this of you: find me chocolate and graham crackers so we may make s'mores [pauses, and adds:] please? [because I'm awful at being unreasonably demanding]

[Surprise look on his face, like, eyes wide open- but I'm pretty sure his lips are curled up and back in a delighted smile.]

Me: [Full belly nervous chuckle] I'm sure this is one of the least demanding request you've ever received from a woman.

[NB: he's the owner and heir to a family owned yachting company, o, and he also captains their fleet.]

Truth be told.

You know, truth be told, I probably would've made a terrible girlfriend...




...she said                                                                         ironically.

Double Trouble

Down side to dating two guys at the same time is if they BOTH end up hurting your feelings, it sucks TWICE as much.


Lesson learned the hard way, I suppose...

Banana Pancakes

I happened to wake up before him and, because I haven't learned my lesson from the last one, decide to sneak off to the kitchen to surprise him with breakfast- the one meal I am very good at preparing.

So, no surprise, there are very little ingredients in the bachelor-pad fridge, save for some eggs (obviously), a few perfectly ripened bananas, butter and milk, and such.  As luck would have it, there is some pancake mix on one of the shelves above the sink.

Inspiration dawns on me,

"[Gasps] I can make banana pancakes!" I think with excitement at my own culinary-seductress genius.

"But what if he doesn't like banana pancakes?" I hesitate, then realize:

"Wait, who doesn't like banana pancakes?!"

And it's a go.

Goodies

Had I known before that offering baked goods made from scratch could have the same effect on men, I don't think this blog would be in existence....

Rumor Mill

DW: Rumor has it you have a boyfriend now.

Me: Well, tonight you and I learned an important lesson to not believe everything you hear.

DW: [Shrugs] Glad to hear it, squirt. [Mischievous grin]

Quick and Painless

Having endurance and stamina when you lack skill, darlin', is nothing to brag about.

Podcast...

...coming soon.



Stay tuned for the deets (details).

Stunt Double.

So I had a very nice young man, whom I had been seeing for a few months now, tell me that I need not worry as I bring a lot to the table, I'm a great catch, so on and so forth.


I just found out this same very nice young man has also been seeing another very nice young lady.


So. If I am a catch- if I am enough and my efforts score beyond satisfactory and expectations, then is the other chick just a stunt double? That's like saying, "You're great! You shouldn't worry so much, there is no competition! You bring a lot to the table. I'm gonna go be with her now- but hey, you rock!"

Damaged Goods.

In the Men's department returning some items. I encounter a very nice young man who is working the register. We exchange polite greetings and I advise I am here to make a return.

Store Clerk: Ok, Miss, is there a reason for your return today?

Me: He's sleeping with another girl.

Store Clerk: [pauses, shakes out of it and cautiously proceeds] Soooo, is there anything wrong with the merchandise?

Me: [Shrugs] Nope, just the bastard I bought it for.

Two speeds.

I'm realizing I have two speeds: 'bat-shit crazy cling-tastic obsessive stalker' and '[shrugs] fuck if I care' 


I usually opperate in the latter, oh, but that former is just lurking in me, just waiting to come out...




User beware.

Redeeming quality.

Studies show we are often attracted to people who remind us of ourselves. The research found the most functioning partnerships are not between complete opposites, but between couples who compliment each other: they share a lot of similarities, and there may be qualities in one that are missing in the other.

                                             That being said...

....I've decided I can't date anyone who is like me.


                                                       Because I am a terrible, awful person....

That moment...

When you hope that everyone you talk about on your blog is either:

a) not on the internets

or

b) functionally illiterate.

Except in dieting...

...eatin' ain't cheatin'.

Exception to the rules

You can't make a rebound into a relationship. Yes, I know the title of this post, and that's because there are always exceptions: 9 times out of 1000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
cases, it works out. 

Don't be a betting man/woman. Get your a$$ on a legit dating website and search engine Mr. Right there. Don't try to attach emotions to someone you affectionately call your "fleshy dildo". If for no other reasons, than at some point if you marry and procreate with this person, do you really want to explain to your offspring how Mommy met Daddy when she was 3 months out of a serious relationship and really needed to get laid, then she saw Daddy at the other end of the bar that night and 'he seemed legit,'?


The answer is, "no," that is not the story you want to tell your darling future offspring.

So key point of tonight's lecture.  Rebounds are rebounds. Relationships are relationships.

Cheers.

MisMatched.org

Probably shoulda taken the hint when the dating site didn't even match us up. . .

Things that make me want to punch people in the face:

Thick, plastic rimmed glasses- not always needed for improving one's vision- are in style these days. My tortured six grade self called, she and I both ask, "WTF, cool kids?!?!?"

For your safety.

Just found out my dad reads my blog. 



I don't use names on this blog. 



                                                               .You're welcome.

What makes a Man Piece a man

Same conversation, same topic, on a lighter note and about a better Man Piece:

Me: Yea, Dad, and he has a fantasy football league.

Papa Bear: Ok, this is good. This tells me he is  a man.

Me: Bahaha

Fatherly Advice

Catching up with my pops on life and such. He mentions he reads this blog.  I ask if he has any questions or concerns, and this strikes up a conversation concerning a former 'Man Piece'.  My father then bestows his profound wisdom:


Papa Bear: Any guy who gives you a timeline as to when he would like to start dating you or consider dating you? Just fucking run. Just- just fucking run. Your bullshit alarm should be going off, and you should run.




And you see wonder why I am a daddy's girl....

He's no art critic

Showing DW pictures of finished works of art for which I had provided the nude figure. He comments, oh so profoundly on a Boch relief rendering of me sitting with my back to the artist:

DW: Hey, I remember that [grins]

Me: *sigh*

Nothing's more awkward...

Than forcing conversation with a one night stand...



....three weeks later.

His Pep Talk.

You know how your friends tell you, "don't worry about it, move on, you can do way better anyway," after a breakup, heart break, breakdown or whatever?

Am I the only one who really hopes his friends are telling him, "Nah, dude, you really messed up. She was the best you'll ever land. [shakes head] It is all down hill from here, bro. Damn shame, too, we all really liked her...probably liked you a little more because of her [sucks teeth, shakes head once more, and sighs] Damn shame."?

Rebound like a boss.

Just survived my first heartbreak. 


I got a bunch a sh*t done soon there after:
 *Enrolled in school again to pursue my MBA
 *Mended a budding relationship
 *Perfected my new found homemaker hobby
 *Celebrated life, love, etc. with my nearest and dearest friends



Either he didn't do it right, or my natural tendency to reject bull-isht sped up my recovery time. 



Either way-




I rebounded like a boss.

You're amazing

So what's the catch?

Bad gamble.

Really almost chose the joker over the Ace...

Monogomy makes a girl feel special...

Text conversation with Daddy Warbucks:

Me: So when we gonna hang out again?

DW: Idk, just been laying low this week.

Me: Same here. Cops after you, too? =P

DW: Nope, just talking with my ex. Supposed to be being good

Me [sees all my hopes and dreams of having a sugar daddy fly away once more out of reach]: Awwwwwww, good luck!

DW: I wanted to invite you over last night!!

Me [stunned]: I don't think that counts as being good...unless you were looking to play board games all night long haha [super uncomfortable text laugh]

DW: Headboard games count? >=P

Me [buries face into palms]: You're awful! Haha [awkward uncomfortable buffer laugh] I should be wishing her good luck!Well I only text you because I thought of you the other day. Best wishes to you both. Don't be a stranger when you become boring and monogamous! =P

DW: I'm so ready!!

Me [it's late, I don't respond, but I think, "Awwwww, that's so cute! He's ready to put is pimp cup down and be a one-woman's-man!"]

[The next morning, I check my phone. See a new text from DW. It reads:]

DW: For you...

Me [scowls and thinks]: *@^*^#@!^!?! Son. of. a....

Groupie moment.

Reasons why I love the people in my life:
Me: 'Hey, DW, new car?'
DW [stalling in the apt driveway]: "Yea it's a Ferrari 458. Just picked her up."
Me: "Yea? She's a beaut. 'Bout time you upgraded!"
DW [chuckles, revs engine, and drives off to park his brand friggin' new Ferrari.]

Turning a negative into PTO

Because everyone has decided to get married and/or have babies out of state this year, I'm out of vacation days. That being said, after being dumped on my a$$ this past weekend, I needed a personal day to sort some of the mess out. Negotiating with my manager:

Manager: [walks over to shoot the breeze on this lovely Monday afternoon] Hi, how was your weekend?

Me: Terrible, I was dumped via text.

Manager: [surprise face] Uhhhh, wow, brutal.

Me: [noticing prey is stunned and vulnerable, I pounce] that being said, can I take Thursday off, please? I kind of need a mental health day.

Manager: [regains some consciousness] Yes, er, I guess, let me check with the boss.

Me: [knowing the kill is mine, agrees and puts on my best poker face]

[Manager walks into a full meeting where boss if currently leading discussion with two of our consultants]

[Me, poker face still intact, internally is mortified and embarrassed- but praying to God the two FEMALE consultants add pressure to Boss Man to show a little mercy].

[Manager walks out of the meeting 30 minutes later with a smile and a thumbs up.]

[I keep composer, but internally I'm flipping desks and throwing papers shouting "Fuck yea, like a boss!"]

Get. on. my. level.

Joy ride.

Never a good sign when your Slavic bus driver asks you in his good, but limited English "are you OK?" to which you of course lie to the complete stranger with a, "yes, sir [forced, fake a$$ smile]" only for him to lean slightly in, look you in the eye, and repeat, "Miss, are you OK?" to which you of course truthfully reply [because now that the stream of tears has blown your cover], "No." as you pay the fare and load the bus, whimper and sniffle the 20 minutes it takes you to get home.


Not exactly a joy ride indeed.

To: Nice Guys From: This Girl

Dear Nice Guys,

      Novel idea for you gentlemen: STOP chasing after that idiot girl who wants the douche-bag boyfriend.  Though she may turn around on her own later down the line, take it from me, you are currently wasting your time.  While you're at it, pretty please drop that dead weight you call your manipulative, crazy-bitch of girlfriend.  I don't care how good you think the sex is. I can assure you your mental health is worth more in the long run, and 'psycho-slut' doesn't always equate to 'tigress in the sack'...unless you're using the metaphor to comment on her tendency toward clawing out your eyes and not her sexual prowess (in which case, to each his own). 

I suggest you turn your attention, instead, to that nice young lady over there who may be to shy to make a move or is going through her awkward phase (which in my case lasted up to 10 years- and counting-but I digress).  That nice girl will most likely not try to sleep with at least one or more of your friends, roommates, male relatives, etc. (or et al). She will probably show you the time of day. I would even bet she would appreciate you and wouldn't purposefully do things to openly humiliate you in public or private settings (now doesn't that sound like a lovely change of pace?).

So please, fellas, I beseech you. You can do better.  Nice girls aren't always hideous, amorphous blobs of socially inept human flesh. Some are actually really friggin' attractive (and crazy good in the sack. I mean like, 'd@mn-how she do dat der?!' good!) So please, pretty please, either change criteria of what you are looking for in a girl- or quit bitching about how nice guys finish last. You're chasing after the wrong rabbit tail.

Cheers,

Idiot girl who (finally) came to her senses.

Disorient.

It's so good, I get giddy with anticipation and loose balance standing on my own two feet.

It's so good, I need a search engine to find my wits afterwards.

[Wish he would come around my way. Feel how I feel.]

The reason

Bar with a mixed group of friends, including my boo, a married couple, a lady parts doctor, and an established-distinguished older man (E.D.O.M).  Sadly, my boo bear departs early while the night goes on. And this conversation happens:

EDOM: So who's the young man? He seemed pretty cool.

Me: O, him? He's the reason I won't have sex with you.

EDOM: Really? Him?

Me: Yup.

EDOM: Suddenly I'm no longer a fan of his (sips beer)

Funny Diet

Apparently joking that you're gonna get fat  because he's not into you for your figure is one of the most heinous jokes out there and such actions should not be taken lightly.

So to you fellas, thanks for the eating disorder and skewed self-image, couldn't do it without you.

Pretty girl.

Scene: walking through a public park with my photographer friend to build up her portfolio.

Old man on bench: "Wow, pretty girl! I wish I had a camera!"

Me: "Thank you," [turns to my friend] "but I'm kind of glad you don't."

Cooking with wine.

Seems like such a waste to put the wine in the food.

Hard to believe.

You ever look at a guy's girl and think to yourself, "So that's what's considered attractive? That right there? That real life Picasso is the new gold standard? Seriously? You're telling me it doesn't hurt to look at her face? Really? [shrugs] Ok, guess I'll be single a little bit longer than expected."? No, just me? Really? Hard to believe.

Theivery.

They're a little reminder that you still find me attractive, and I like to pretend that you're just checking to make sure I'm still nearby because you can't believe you're lucky enough to score a catch like me.

Please don't correct if I'm wrong and it's just happenstance. Pretty please.

Grand Gesture

Girl-talking it up with a friend about my currently undefined relationship status:

Me: I don't know what to do, where we're going, or what we even are! I know he likes me, as he says, and it's not like he's treating my poorly.  He's actually been great! I just don't know what's going on.

Friend: Really? So what grand gesture are you waiting for?

Me: I don't know what grand gesture to wait for...

Friend: Well, what grand gesture do you want?

Me: I don't want a grand gesture! All I want is for him to say, "Hey, you, with the face I like. Ditch the dead weight and let's be exclusive girlfriend/boyfriend. Whadduhya say?" [slight pause, thinks, and continues]: If he wants to slay a dragon and find the other half of this golden amulet, he can, but it's not required...

Interview with a man piece.

A gentleman friend, one I have spent extensive amounts of time with in the past and again in the present, comes to pick me up for an outing. A friend, about whom my mom has expressed concern because she does not know the young man with whom her youngest daughter is spending so much time, sits down with my mother for the 8 to 10 minutes it takes me to finish getting ready and chats it up with my mother.  Knowing that she gave him the polite, but thorough interview, I ask Ma her opinion later. I am confident the woman picked up enough to draft a brief but sufficient psychiatric profile as only a mother could in such a short amount of time. I ask her some preliminary questions, just wondering what she asked him and what she learned about him, etc. After disclosing to me her findings about his education, hobbies, and 2 to 5 year life plan, I ask her:

Me: So, Ma, what do you think of Mr. Awesome?

Ma: What do I think of him? I don't know him! He's just some- some man piece of yours!

Me: [Buries face in hands, and buries any hopes of finding an 'acceptable' guy.]

Jeese, Debbie, lay off me.

This guy I'm seeing, nick named "Mr. Smarty Pants", bought me flowers "as a thank you for all the little things [I] do." I know, right? 100 points to him! So the lovely floral bouquet is prominently displayed on the kitchen table.  Here's the conversation with my mom after she's walked by the centerpiece a few times:

Ma: The flowers are nice, where'd you get them?

Me [beaming with joy and in a bubbly voice responds]: From Mr. Smarty Pants!

Ma: So man piece bought you flowers?

Me [180 from the previous description]: Yes, Ma, man piece bought me flowers.

Ma: How nice.

Me [internal thought concludes]: And you wonder why I am reluctant to talk to you about guys, or introduce you to any- and never bring any home to meet you....

Not big on surprises.

Hey, remember that time that ridiculously good looking guy with all his shit together and no girlfriend was TOTALLY into you and everything worked out perfectly and there was nothing wrong with the scenario?

Yea, me either. 



What the fuck is wrong with you?

Mother's opinion on my type.

Me: Hey Ma, did you wanna get a look at the guy I'm seeing. In case you "ever need to pick him out of a lineup," as you say.

[Ma grabs her glasses and comes over for a look. Leans in close for a better look and reports:] Wow, he looks generic.

[After laughing hysterically for maybe five solid minutes, I respond:] I guess I have a type?

Ma: Guess so.

Your girlfriend is a whore.

So for this one, it is addressed to someone(s) specific, and I don't care if you're miserable with that psycho whore.

You appeared very certain she was a better choice when you demolished whatever sense of worth, dignity, and value I had as a lover and partner. 

She's three types of crazy all wrapped into one b*tch? Awesome. Good catch, old boy!

Why not go the full Monty, man up, and marry the broad? (But, oh for the love of all that is sacred, please don't procreate with the succubus. No world, no matter how chaotic and disjointed it may be, deserves more than one of her in existence.)   

And when you wake up confused in the ER surrounded by family members and loved ones, as you lay in that hospital bed with the stab wound to your side because she saw you looking at that other chick early today and won't fall for that "she's my younger sister?! I met you through her!" excuse again, I will only be there to say "I told you so" and console your mother because, let's face it, she loves me more than you sometimes.


-Cheers

Your boyfriend sucks.

Your boyfriend sucks.

No, this isn't to anyone specific. I just figured if any one of you out there was waiting on someone to tell you something you already knew so you would have an excuse/see the light/ have an impetus to make a move and ditch the f@cker, well, here you go. On the house:

Your boyfriend, that dead weight you're carrying? Yea, he sucks.

You're welcome.

-Cheers.

The Pretty Ones Always Are

[Scene: I am filling my tires with air at a local gas station; an older, polite man addresses me while waiting his turn]

Older gentleman kindly asks: "You are very pretty girl, did you know that?"

Me, in a polite and frank tone: "Thank you, sir."

Older gentleman continues: "Are you married? The nice ones are always married."

Me, in a polite and defensive tone: "No, sir, but I have a boyfriend [sort of...not really...at all]."

Older gentleman, not hearing my "boyfriend excuse", concludes: "I figured you were married. The pretty ones are always married."

[Because of years of taunting-for-courtship, I have no idea how to take a simple, genuine compliment and so I scurry into my car and drive off.]


Fin.

Missing you...a little less....everytime you open your mouth.

Men, what not to say when a woman says she misses you: (via text)

Me:  How long are you gone for? I miss you [sad face].

Him: I'm back in five days.

Me: Ok. That's survivable I guess.

Him: Well, I would hope so!

Me:...you know, on second thought, take your time getting back here. Or don't come
      back [shrugs] see if I care...

Have. Want?

Dear Sir, you have me. Decide if you want me.

Last time I pop this question.

My first, last, and only marriage proposal delivered over text:

Young Hot NYC Lawyer: Soft consonants are a hoot.

Me:...marry me? Please?

Young Hot NYC Lawyer: Hahahaha! Ha! Shite, that was funnier than a soft consonant.

Me: [laugh cry] Haha, awesome. You just laughed at my marriage proposal. Never trying that move again.

[Long a$$ torturous pause]

Me: and on that lovely note, good night!
[begins collecting the remains of her pride]

Young Hot NYC Lawyer: Night, night.

[Throws arms up and let's tattered remains scatter to the ground as she walks away and concludes, "fuck it."]

Genre of dance.

When asked by a young man if I was a runner, I replied with the implied truth, "no, I am not a runner. I stay fit by dancing" when I simply stated that I was not a runner, but a dancer. I think he reasoned "exotic" was implied by my descriptive noun, "dancer" as he continued leering at me as I hurried to my car. It's either he thought I was a stripper, or he has a perverted appreciation for Russian style ballet.

Never too late.

Driving by the a newly weds taking their wedding photos as they walk down a city street. Happen to catch eyes with the grooms joyous. Winks at him and gestures "call me" with a sexy, alluring smile to finish before turning left on the perpendicular street heading in the opposite direction of the lovely couple.

No apologies, I just couldn't help myself.

23 hours later...

This post is not out of jealousy. Fully possible that you whipped the bastard into shape [in which case, kudos to you!] over these past few years,

but my first impression of the guy was shaped by knowing the night after you met your still-going-strong boyfriend, the one who spent that whole night wooing you, he bought condoms with the intentions of bedding another girl...

Your mother said she loves me.

Your family adores me. What the hell is your hold up?

Tactile dysfunction.

Touching him in the present and remembering one from the past while wishing he were another in the near future. 




Such a sensory overload.

His favorite snack is Combos

Wrapping my head around the fact that I still remember one of those cutesy girlfriendy details about my ex, which came to my attention when I was trying to make nice with another guy.  Still don't know how I negotiated my way out of that awkward situation...

....still don't know why I think about his snacking habits...

One thing wrong.

Young, attractive, great sense of humor, easy going and out-going, successful, brilliant- like scary brilliant but still has decent social skills- similar tastes in music, movies, and religious beliefs.  Has own car, place, and retirement plan.  "That" is a respectable size as well. Shows interest in me. His friends and I get along. He cooks!

He sounds too good to be entirely true. 

When my mind wanders and I start to wonder why she left such a great package deal...I can't help but fear that the one thing wrong with him is he still wonders why she did, too...

Morals Don't Always Mix with Traffic Law

Woman with a "Choose Life" ribbon on her pumper takes a right turn on red while pedestrians are in the cross walk with a "State Law: Yield to Pedestrians in Crosswalk" sign in the middle of it; pedestrians either hurry across or double back to avoid her vehicle.

Question for you: is that ribbon regarding a proposed universal birth right or a possible prison sentence as a result of your driving abilities? Just curious. . .

Put a ring on it.

Right now, the only ring I want to put on a guy ain't going on his finger...

He's not the K.O.she's about to get...

He is a real knock out. So much so, that when other females recognize his attractiveness and, maybe not realizing how good of a left hook I have, they make a move on him as if I am not standing 3 feet away...wrapping my hands and wrists.  


Just saying, ladies, I found mine....now go get the f#ck away from him.

Relationship Status.

Starting to believe there should be some more options when selecting one's relationship status. Some suggests are:

"Pending a decision if he/she would ever make up his/her mind..."

"Well, I'm his/her 'not boyfriend/girlfriend'"

"[awkwardly looks at partner then looks back at delivered question]"

Planning.

Get's invited to an all white party on the most inopportune week of her month.

Cognitive dissonance

Removing your ex from having access to your social networking site profile.

Whispers a little prayer that he gets word of how hot and awesome you are and how well you're doing without him through the grapevine every time a mutual friend comments on, posts on, or views your page.

Not vicious, observant.

Have you ever gotten a glimpse of a cutesy couple picture of them and just wanna say, "wow, your new girlfriend is ugly!"? 

Just as an observation on his post-breakup decisions and the obvious lowering of his standards, not to be malicious or vindictive in any way shape or form.

I'm bad with breakups

Have you ever been in that situation where you are looking at one person, and you really sincerely wish you were with that other person? Yes? Ok what the f#ck do I do in that situation? Because it is awkward as hell.

I know when it's over, I'll just horrible at breaking it off...time to fade into the background....or let him catch me on top.

Poking in the dark.

Text conversation between me and Mr. Smarty Pants:

Me: In case you're still oblivious as to what I'm trying to hint here, let me translate for you: when it comes to dinner reservations and future dates, I respond well when the fella takes initiative and makes a move.

Mr. Smarty Pants: What move would that one be?

[Holds response in hopes he'll figure it out on his own]

Mr. Smarty Pants: I'll look for moves to make, but probably just going to be poking in the dark.

Me: Poking in the dark? Dinner better be A-mazing before you make any of those types of moves, my dear.





Oddly enough, he has since asked me to come over to his place for a delicious home-cooked meal prepared by his apt hands. I can only hope he is fully aware that one move should not immediately follow the other...there should be some time elapse...no one wants the mood ruined or performance weakened by indigestion or cramping. Just saying.

Fears.

Today I realized my top four fears are as follows:

1) Heights

2) The dark

3) Knives

4) Two or more men who've seen me naked, for adult reasons, in the same room and/or in the same conversation.

All four initiate the same fight or flight response, except I'm pretty sure throwing punches mid-polite-conversation (especially if I haven't explained their connection) would not be the best reaction if my goal is to make things less awkward for me.