Dishonestly Speaking...

[Background: Text conversation between me and a wildly successful, charming, relatively-older-than-me-but-still-on-the -young-side New Yorker I briefly dated. We had great chemistry, he made me laugh, he has money coming out of his ears-and after two broke and dependent boyfriends, it was nice to meet someone with some financial stability. Call me crazy, but I actually might of liked the guy and could've seen us turning into something serious.  Downside? He made it very clear that he was after one thing, and one thing only, and made me feel like he didn't take me seriously.]

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Former Suitor: 'Hey KP. How are you?'

Me: 'I'm well, thank you. I am dating an old flame. [fib] We're doing great! [fabrication] Parent's adore him. [falsehood] I'm happy [untruth] I think we might turn into something serious this time. [falsity] He's just what I'm looking for: funny, smart, tall, dark, and handsome with the smoothest chocolate skin I've ever seen! [my pants are currently on fire. Also, I'm deliberately describing a man who has every physical attribute, and I'm alluding to every attribute, you wish you had.] Things are looking up at work, too [lie]. Still climbing that corporate ladder [flat out lie]! I hope all is well for you. [truth] Please lose my number. [absolute truth] This is good-bye [irrefutable truth].'

No leg warmers, please

Tonight I wore a fuchsia tutu, light pink teddy and a cowboy hat.  I had put on some light grey and electric yellow zebra-patterned leg warmers, but was asked to take those off before I began to pose in the [otherwise] buff.


On that note, I'm beginning to see why my friends question my actual activities during my art modeling gigs...

Texts have no tone...

Dear Sir,

What part of "Eat shit and die," implies, "Nah dawg, send her a text in about a month's time. She'll be cool with that,"?


Regards.

Dunce Cap.

For maybe the 2nd or 3rd time now my mom happens to pass by as I am browsing online for exotic dancer shoes. I have my eyes on a classy, clear pair with floating star glitter in the platform bottom of the shoe. Mind you, this pending purchase is for the pole fitness classes I take with the goal of getting my beach body back and improving my wrist strength [for rehabilitative purposes only, I assure you].

She then asks if I am considering picking up dancing on the weekends as another side gig.  Understand that my becoming a stripper- a bad, goofy stripper- is a joke between my sister, mother, and me because of my other, more innocent behaviors and habits [read: I used to undress and jump in our kiddie pool as a toddler, and now as an adult I am comfortable in my skin]. Naturally, I joke back, "sure, why not?"  She then responds that she is asking in all seriousness, considering I am planning on attending graduate school soon and will need to finance this venture on my own...


*Sigh* There are scholarships for a reason...

A good teddy going to waste...

Buying leingerie for purposes other than what it's actually meant for is probably one of the most depressing activies a single lady can do. It's like preparring a dinner for two, but with the intention of saving the second portion of the meal for break time at work the next day.

With that in mind, I bought a few costumey, lacey, colorful numbers for up coming art modeling gigs to switch it up from the mundane and expected [i.e. my naked body*sigh*].
What. a. waste.

Combined Interests

I take exotic dance lessons at a local studio after my regular 9-5.  On weekends, or on nights I'm not dancing at the studio, I art model for local art leagues. The pole classes are relatively expensive, but fun and therefore worth it; the art modeling pays a mere pittance, but I enjoy the art and atmosphere.

To recap:
I dance around a pole for fun, and take my clothes off for a measly amount of money. If only there were some way of combining these two activities to make some actual bank.

Think, woman, think!

B.S.

Dear wildly attractive, relatively successful, and probably closest to my ideal suitor,

Sometimes I just think you are straight up bull shitting me. There is no way you are that interested in an awkward little rapscallion like me. But just in case you are genuinely captivated by whatever charms I may have, please forgive any and everything that will spill from my lips during any and all interactions with you.

Thanks. Really appreciate your understanding.

Cheers.

No invitation necessary...

Superbly gay male DJ: " I like your boyfriend." Me: "Awesome! And he's not my boyfriend. [Bends down to fiddle with purse straps, then jokingly adds:] So if you like him, feel free to-" [looks up from fiddling with purse to see superbly gay male DJ wrapping arm around waist of unsuspecting straight male friend.] Me: "Oooo-kay."

Worth 1000 words...

I never want to be that needy, crazy chick who posts the picture of her and her crush without there being an actual romantic relationship between them. I also don't want to be that delusional chick who believes there is nothing between him and said other chick, but there really is-

making me the complete. fool.

Note to self:

This is such a bad idea. [Read: stay. tuned.]

Who else does that?

Goes to chic bar. Picks up more guys than you? Who does that? Straight guy friend does that.  

[sulks]

That's not good...

Holding your shit together when you get weak in the knees at one flash of his smile and bright blue eyes? Yea good luck with that.

Some friendly advice

Feeling down, I complained to a friend that I needed other ways to get more traffic to my blog since most guys could give a rat's ass that I showcase my wit on this blog.

To which my darling male friend replies, "I think wittiness in a girl is enjoyable. Being hilarious isn't. Guys want to be more funny, always. Who wants to bang Tina Fey? Nobody. If she wasn't funny, everyone would."

So for the record, Tina, I'd hit that. And then we can have witty banter afterwards. Win.

A girl can dream...

Listen, I need you to understand that I am completely over you and I am totally happy with your decision to end what we had.  No, I have no interest in sleeping with you as much as you have any interest in getting with all this [runs hands down amazing figure for emphasis] again.


Do realize, however, our current status will not stop me from fantasizing about past or [totally unwanted by me] future rendezvous. K?


Good talk.

How to make a quick 60 bucks while laying on your back

For those of you who don't know me for real for real, I am an art model by trade. Art modeling is for those who want to be a model, but don't want to give up carbohydrates, proteins, fiber, fats, sucrose, and other things that make up food.


Also, you're naked a lot more, but for non-sexual purposes (bored already, I know).


So the other day, doing a reclining pose (i.e. lying on my back in a poorly heated studio surrounded by a group of 8 or so gentlemen who are members of a local art league) the unfortunate realization hits me:


"This is not where I saw my college degree taking me."

Murphy's Law:

[Scene: Wandering the streets of New York City on St. Paddy's Day this past March I stumble into an Irish pub and stumble upon a tall, pleasantly built, blond haired, bright blue-eyed, young man with a dazzling smile who turns out to be an intellectual property lawyer. After a few rounds, some unmistakable flirtation between the two of us, and in the mixed company of our friends- something amazing happens....] Young Lawyer [turns to me and in a low voice comments]: "You know what's so amazing and refreshing about you? Ok, yes, you're beautiful and you're attractive and you're fun to be around, but then you totally say intelligent and observant things that add to the conversation and it's just so- amazing!" Me [stunned, thinks]: 'Oh there's no way you're real...'

He eventually leaves with a tall, leggy brunette with broad shoulders and a 5 'o' clock shadow.

*sigh*

You should know better...

That sinking feeling in your stomach as the color drains from your face, while your chest tightens on that last breath and your eyes widen as the words, "At least you know better. Most girls would falsely read into it, but you know he's full of shit and this doesn't mean anything," stream from your girlfriend's mouth with such clarity and conviction while, unbeknownst to her, you reluctantly hope with every quickened heart beat:


"But what if it does mean something?"

Stop. Kill that dream. Now.

Fellas, I want you to ask yourselves how many times has using the phrase "well, as you say, '[repeats in a mocking tone some phrase the other party commonly uses in serious, adult situations-particularly when said party is trying to express genuine feelings]'...." end with your significant other turning to you and in all seriousness proclaim, "You know, dear, you're right! I'm sorry. Would you like a blow job?".  I'll give you a second to recount all the times it never happened...

Stop. Kill that dream now. And cut that sh*t out.

Much obliged.

One would think...

This whole unrequited thing would've gotten old by now...

On that note...

I knew you weren't going to be my romantic partner for too much longer when after I told you that you were my "long awaited first," you replied with the sincerest exclamation of, "Bullshit!" known to modern man...

Who does that?

Goes to New York City gay bar on Boys' Night. Undeniably homosexual male bartender demands to buy two (2) of my rounds?  Who does that? I does that.

That Moment...

That moment when you notice the guy you apparently went to high school with but have no recollection of ever interacting with him while in high school and are only friends with him on the social networking site because you mistook him for someone else whom you still weren't entirely sure you knew but thought you did know in high school has posted to you a 'happy birthday!'- yet you hear not a d@mn word from any of the people who saw you naked over the past year? Yea...


I am in that moment.

She's better than me.

That moment where you meet his girlfriend and she is perfect: perfect for him, and more perfect than you could ever be for him. What follows, if you're lucky, is that sweet moment when you finally surrender to reason and let. go.

I am so close to that latter moment.



               Here's to the not-so rationale of the hopelessly hopeful.

Salute.

Interesting week followed by a thought-provoking weekend: I learned that sometimes in life you get a second or even a third chance, and sometimes you only have the one. Here's to first chances.

 

Salute.

Though some casualties are to be expected...

My biggest regret throughout this whole journey of self discovery and stuff is my willingness to and follow-through in sacrificing a friendship for a few measly  kicks.  For this, I am very sorry.  It was a sad and twisted lesson to learn first hand at your expense [and my loss]. I am sorry.


Funny thing is you probably don't know who you are- which, for me, is a good thing.

Sláinte.

Some relationship advice for us- and her...

That annoying thing you do where you steal any and every glance you can while in front of your soon-to-be-next-before-becoming-your-ex girlfriend? Yea I would cut that out, pronto. Especially since she notices that you're easily distracted. Also her death-glares are making me really uncomfortable. Plus: since we all know you'll be going home with her and I will be bolting out of this venue once this night out wraps up, what's the real point here? Why not exercise some of your self-renowned acting skills now and pull your sh*t together? Eyes forward, please.  You've made your choice. I just want to live through its consequences.




Cheers.

For the gentlemen:

To my fellas out there:

If the request you are about to make to your significant other begins with the phrase "now you can say 'no' to this, but..." Stop. Take maybe five (5) days to reconsider what you're about to ask, and drop the "now you can say 'no' to this, but...". This inquiry will most likely not end well for you otherwise.


Warmest regards.


KRenee

On career changes...

Ummmmmmm skimming Craigslist job postings just for kicks. I am blushing now, and here's why: "Young business man seeks attractive White, European, Spanish, or light skinned Black [hellz yea] female assistant [for] after hours adult oriented stress relieving meetings." It pays up to [wtf is this 'up to' business?!] $2,100/wk. That cheapo perv.

Joys, cont.:

[Scene: Baking cookies out of the cookie dough I recently purchased. For those of you who find this outcome obvious, I'm going to safely assume you've either never been single or never been a girl. Either way I'll break it down for you: 

Alone and-

1) eating raw cookie dough from the package= sad, sad fatty moment

OR

2) eating freshly baked cookies= less sad and fat ass-y

 

Cheers.]

Letters of recommendation, cont.:

Dear Popular Search Engine commercial,

The "creeper to keeper" story is only cute when depicted in a well directed movie, written novel, or produced TV program. It's never cute when played out on the computer screen. Ever. No exceptions. Okay? Good talk.

Cheers.

If last night was a good night:

Dear [insert your name],
I am sorry for [insert transgression]. I didn't mean to hurt you/your [insert person, pet, and/or property]. I'm sure [he/she/it] will bounce back in no time! Anyway, I hope we can still be [insert our relation]. Also, have you seen my pants?

Sincerely yours,

 [My real name or alias I gave you last night]

Love/Hate Letter:

Dear Delightful Yoga Instructor,

I hate you, you sadistic wench! How can you put good people through such a thorough and vigorous workout?! It's winter! Who's going to see my now flat, sexy abs you so graciously gave me through your routine last class? Who, I ask, WHO?!? Well I hope you're happy, because my tooshie looks fabulous after your leg work out you somehow squeezed into a gloriously revitalizing 45 minute session. AND I'm pretty sure I burned off 2lbs in the 24hrs since your class. You sicken me.

Regards,

KRenee

P.S. Are you teaching again during the lunch class tomorrow? Yes? Good, because I'll be there, you maniac.

Joys, cont.:

[Scene: being addressed by a balding, "32" yr old man in my favorite bar lounge where a bartender I went out on a few dates with is working that night] Patron: "Ayo, so you like--[spittle splatters across my cheek, prompting me to search for a way, any way, out- sadly to no avail] Ayo, am I spitting on you?" Me: "Yes, yes you are." Patron: "Ayo, but look at these lips! [displays lips]" Me:[still desperate, turns to the bartender and mouths,"help me"] Bartender [calmly wiping down bottles]: "You are a grown ass woman; do it yourself." Me: [disillusioned, replies to bartender] "Ugh, fine. [Turns to Patron] please stop talking to me."

Joys of Being Single, cont.:

.....yea, too detailed and depressing to recount. [raises FULL wine glass and bows head, with shoulders slumped over, she mumbles: ] good night.

Joys, cont.:

[Scene: phone conversation today with my pops] Me: "So how's your lady friend in Philly?" Pops: "Oh she's good. I like her; she gets me, ya know? Doesn't try to change me." Me: "Well Dad, years ago you told me 'for every ass there is a seat', and it looks like you've finally found your seat." Pops: [belly laughter]

 

See? Kids do listen.

Joys of Being Single, cont.:

Just watched a young man run across a low traffic parkway to collect wild flowers for the bouquet he had clutched in his hand before sprinting back to his empty car. I teared up and and gushed "Oh my g-- that's so sweet!" for the remaining 49min ride home...good to know some good ones are still out there.

It's matters of the mind and heart, foo!

Freud believed that people need two things in their lives to feel complete, purposeful, and happy: 1) Love and 2) Work. But many rappers/philosophers of today say "F@ck b*tche$, get money." So what's a girl to believe? Both have real-life applicability...and let's face it, b*tches ain't sh#t. *Sigh* what a conundrum...

Joys of Being Single, cont.:

[Scene: after posting a status update about wishing when a guy offers to teach me how to drive standard, he actually delivers on the lesson and asks for nothing more in return, I receive a text from a certain Casanova] Casanova: "I could teach you!" Me: "Haha idk- I've heard that line so often. I just want someone to teach me to drive standard. Lol or at least use a more direct line if he's just trying to score, ya know?" Casanova: "Lets f**k....." Me: "...Iiiiii'm gonna pretend like your phone was stolen briefly by a menacing friend just then..." Casanova: "Haha, I mean, worth a shot, right? So how 'bout it?" Me: "..." [deletes telephone number from my contact list and the Casanova from my life] *The End*

Joys of Being Single:

[Scene described as such: Listening in on a first date at a bar. Girl over did it every time it was her cue to laugh at his jokes."Really?"I, and I'm sure he, kept thinking,"hes seriously in tonight?" And then, the climatic ending to our story, he pops the "so do u wanna head back to my place?" question, and she accepts! At this point it took every ounce of self-control I had not to try and high-five him. Just saying, though, it was deserved.] *End*

Observant Driver:

While turning left onto a 1 lane road, I almost got hit by a woman who was turning right-on-red onto the same road. Eventually the road turned into multiple lanes and she passed me. I saw a "choose life" pro-life sticker on her bumper with a little fetus detail. Guess once you're out of the box you're fair game.

Letters of recommendation, cont.:

Dear woman who flyered my car in the Halloween costume store parking lot earlier today,

I am still dressing in a slutty outfit, making a series of bad decisions, and exhibiting questionable behavior to celebrate Halloween. In the mean time. I will happily feed the homeless, show kindness to strangers, and practice my faith. Good luck with your soul-saving propaganda.

Regards,
A fellow Christian

 

[NB: This story happened back in October 2011]

Letters of recommendation, cont.

Dear Older Married man who offered to "turn me out" one night after returning from the bar,

Offering to buy me Thi food while you are sober does not redeem you for the sins you committed while drunk and horny that night- you adulterous, goofy, clearly over compensating [and still not measuring up] scum of the earth. It did not happen then for a reason, and it surely wasn't because I as operating on an empty stomach. Go home, and try going alone for a change.

Sincerely out of your league no matter how much your net worth may be,

This chick

Letters of recommendation:

Dear Young Man with "a wonderful girlfriend back home",

Please break up with your girlfriend. You admitted to using the fact that you have a girlfriend to land other women. You chuckled as you remembered the infamous line, "but, you have a girlfriend," you hear time and time again before you "bump uglies" with said other chick. Please, seriously, do her the favor. No doubt you're already sterile anyway. Why string her heart along any further?

Sincerely yours,

This chick

P.S. You disgust me.

Some introductions are in order...

I recently celebrated a birthday. One of the milestone birthdays where you describe it to others as "the big [single digit][single digit]," making sure you add significant stress to the second digit before pausing for your audience's reaction to how absolutely ancient you are. Yup, I celebrated one of those; and with my milestone birthday came some post-abandoning-New-Year's-resolutions, pre-hitting-my-next-milestone-birthday goals. One of these goals is [surprise] starting a blog to document and share all my life's happenings for the amusement of other folks.

If you wish to know anything about me, if you're looking for any takeaways or life lessons from this blog, please know that I am an utterly hopeless romantic and it's probably my favorite character flaw about myself.  But honestly, would you expect to learn anything different? Any rational person would have stopped after the second or third blog entry [so read on- a lot of them are true gems! A lot, not all of 'em. Anyways]. Oh, but not this chick! No, no, I keep repeating the same actions and expecting different results. I'd prefer to call it gamblers' logic than insanity [though it's foggy at times which descriptive noun is more applicable to what situation, but I digress].  Bottom line is, I know 'the one' is out there, I doubt I'm actually going to find 'my one', BUT I refuse to become completely desensitized by the foolhardy f*ckups I run into along the way. [Shrugs] Call it determination [*gasp* get it?].

So please, other folks- and I would hope some dear, close friends-enjoy my setbacks and accomplishments as I reflect on them in bitter [though more often sweet] hindsight.

Cheers.