The breathe is back in my lungs. The short bald preacher with cute glasses quit calling this week. He's been sick and his grandfather is dying, which MIGHT be the cause of silence. I've been thoughful (yet not pushy) by texting him. A mild cold and dying estranged grandfather aren't the cause of complete silence...of his reluctance to commit to a night at my house this weekend.
When a man goes from texting all day and talking on the phone for 1 1/2 hours every night to nothing, it is a sign of the end.
Fun is now over. My my mind is already re-adjusting to a man free life...working on the house, making my favorite soup, and swim.
I had hope for a while, which is very good.
He may call. We may see each other again in a week or two, but my phase of being starry-eyed and blissfully floating through my days has now passed. I'm not waiting for the phone to ring. Any hope that I have left is not placed in him.
Those stupid fucking eggs all in one basket. I hate it when I am right about impending pain and suffering.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
yes ma'am
I have always been attracted to strong men. Black, white, latino, straight laced or possibly not straight...the common thread is that they were all strong willed men who took charge of a situation. I say one thing, they do another. Or nothing at all. The battle of wills is a bit of a turn-on.
I realized tonight that this new man does what I tell him to do.
"Get up and take another tylenol before your headache gets worse."
He hopped up and took the damned pill.
"You need chicken soup and gatorade if you are feeling sick."
From 25 miles away, he got the text, dragged his miserable butt off the couch, and bought himself gatorade. Ate chicken soup.
"You sound sleepy. You are still dressed? Get up, take off your pants, hang them up, and go to sleep."
I hear rustling as he is moving off the bed. He says, "Oh yes, please order me to do so."
That is when I caught on to this pattern and its implications in bed. I don't know if I think it is the hottest thing on earth or if it is annoying. Now I will simply focus on using this new found power for good.
I realized tonight that this new man does what I tell him to do.
"Get up and take another tylenol before your headache gets worse."
He hopped up and took the damned pill.
"You need chicken soup and gatorade if you are feeling sick."
From 25 miles away, he got the text, dragged his miserable butt off the couch, and bought himself gatorade. Ate chicken soup.
"You sound sleepy. You are still dressed? Get up, take off your pants, hang them up, and go to sleep."
I hear rustling as he is moving off the bed. He says, "Oh yes, please order me to do so."
That is when I caught on to this pattern and its implications in bed. I don't know if I think it is the hottest thing on earth or if it is annoying. Now I will simply focus on using this new found power for good.
Monday, September 27, 2010
the perfect day
A dark, rainy day and Jane Austen are perfect bedmates, especially for an anxious woman pondering the dangers of love. Thank you, Jane Austen. Men may come and go, but "Sense and Sensibility" will always be in my life.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
check yes or no
I am in a strange situation. One that I haven't been in since college but, like everything in my 30's, it is more complicated.
There is a wonderful boy who is taking all of my time. He seems to need me already. We talk for at least an hour every night. Things are quickly slipping into a relationship status. When we are together he looks adoringly into my eyes and just stays there. And, of course, he is a good kisser.
A call every night.
Increasing physical affection.
The Mr. Darcy look.
After 5 dates, I am falling in love with a man who might be using me for my mind. I need to pass him a note saying "Do you think I'm pretty? Check yes, no, or maybe."
He has not once commented in my physical appearance. Yes, his tongue and his hard-on pressed against me comment. I happen to know that men place their dicks and tongues in all kinds of places, including women that they aren't attracted to.
There have been no confessions of his affections. He has not said that he likes me. Or that he has a crush on me. Or, really, anything that I've usually heard from a man a dozen times by the 5th date. Once I asked him how he liked dating a tall woman. He said, "well, it is different."
I am not a needy woman. I am no more vain or prideful than anyone else while dating. I do need to know that a man thinks I am amazing. He worships me. He closes his eyes and pictures my face. He thinks that I am the best fucking thing since sliced bread. (btw- whom he is not fucking)
Those thoughts all help with the dating process. We all want to be with someone who takes our breath away. I've taken enough breathe's away just by taking down my hair that I know I have that power over men. Especially at the beginning.
He takes my breathe away. Last night, I looked down at his giant bald head laying in my lap, at his short and ironically hairy body, and thought "I want to marry this man and have his short bald babies."
He took my breathe away, but I can sure the hell take it back if I don't hear him confess his worship of me as a woman in the next week or two. Yup. The breathe will re-enter my lungs and my sexy body, mind, and soul will have to walk away broken-hearted. I cannot settle for a wonderful man who loves my mind but not me as a whole woman.
Oh please, bald man, please tell me what you are thinking. And start thinking about me naked. Thank you! Jenny
There is a wonderful boy who is taking all of my time. He seems to need me already. We talk for at least an hour every night. Things are quickly slipping into a relationship status. When we are together he looks adoringly into my eyes and just stays there. And, of course, he is a good kisser.
A call every night.
Increasing physical affection.
The Mr. Darcy look.
After 5 dates, I am falling in love with a man who might be using me for my mind. I need to pass him a note saying "Do you think I'm pretty? Check yes, no, or maybe."
He has not once commented in my physical appearance. Yes, his tongue and his hard-on pressed against me comment. I happen to know that men place their dicks and tongues in all kinds of places, including women that they aren't attracted to.
There have been no confessions of his affections. He has not said that he likes me. Or that he has a crush on me. Or, really, anything that I've usually heard from a man a dozen times by the 5th date. Once I asked him how he liked dating a tall woman. He said, "well, it is different."
I am not a needy woman. I am no more vain or prideful than anyone else while dating. I do need to know that a man thinks I am amazing. He worships me. He closes his eyes and pictures my face. He thinks that I am the best fucking thing since sliced bread. (btw- whom he is not fucking)
Those thoughts all help with the dating process. We all want to be with someone who takes our breath away. I've taken enough breathe's away just by taking down my hair that I know I have that power over men. Especially at the beginning.
He takes my breathe away. Last night, I looked down at his giant bald head laying in my lap, at his short and ironically hairy body, and thought "I want to marry this man and have his short bald babies."
He took my breathe away, but I can sure the hell take it back if I don't hear him confess his worship of me as a woman in the next week or two. Yup. The breathe will re-enter my lungs and my sexy body, mind, and soul will have to walk away broken-hearted. I cannot settle for a wonderful man who loves my mind but not me as a whole woman.
Oh please, bald man, please tell me what you are thinking. And start thinking about me naked. Thank you! Jenny
Monday, September 20, 2010
what are the chances?
On our third date, the little bald man got us tickets to a sold out Duke/Alabama football game. The stadium was filled with 39,000 people, a new record. I knew six people at the game.
Our seats were right next to 4 of those six, all of whom were church members. Not in the same section. Not in the general area. I was row DD, seat 21. My friend from swim class and her husband were seats 22 and 23. Our head deacon was in the row in front of of us with her son, who is in the youth group.
Really? What the fuck?
Sunday, September 19, 2010
no one can know
Last night I ran out of gas two miles from the exit to my house. I sat in my tiny two-door compact on the side of the highway for an hour waiting for AAA. I smelled like shit. I had a growing migraine. I didn't care.
I could have called a friend at 11pm for help and been home by 11:30. I waited for AAA instead. Why? I am too embarrassed to explain how I ran out of gas.
"Well, I noticed that I was out of gas in Raleigh. I meant to stop, but I've been starry eyed and daydreaming for the last 20 miles. I went on a really good date...didn't snap out of it even when the engine stopped at 70 mph."
Let's go back 36 hours...
Friday night was nice. We talked about serious stuff and laughed a lot. He hugged me twice at the end of the night. We stood in a dark parking lot for a long time, yet no kiss. That has never happened before.
Saturday was nice. We went to a Duke football game, left at half time (see the previous post), grabbed some food, went to a book store, and then back to his place.
When we got out of the car at his house, he did not invite me in. He just held the door. In his kitchen, he did not offer me a drink. We just stood there awkwardly talking and still not touching. Or even standing near each other. We then moved into the living room (still with no drinks) and sat on the couch not touching.
Both of us were covered in salt and nastiness from sweating at the Duke game. We stank. We were tired. I finally held his hand because he was not making a move. And then everything changed.
He is a good kisser. My doubts about his feelings for me were erased over the next hour. We kept our clothes on and will continue to do so until I figure out if he generally likes boobs on his couch or if he really likes me attached to my boobs anywhere. But the meek little theology nerd is a very, very good kisser.
And that is how I ran out of gas two miles from my exit at 11pm.
I could have called a friend at 11pm for help and been home by 11:30. I waited for AAA instead. Why? I am too embarrassed to explain how I ran out of gas.
"Well, I noticed that I was out of gas in Raleigh. I meant to stop, but I've been starry eyed and daydreaming for the last 20 miles. I went on a really good date...didn't snap out of it even when the engine stopped at 70 mph."
Let's go back 36 hours...
Friday night was nice. We talked about serious stuff and laughed a lot. He hugged me twice at the end of the night. We stood in a dark parking lot for a long time, yet no kiss. That has never happened before.
Saturday was nice. We went to a Duke football game, left at half time (see the previous post), grabbed some food, went to a book store, and then back to his place.
When we got out of the car at his house, he did not invite me in. He just held the door. In his kitchen, he did not offer me a drink. We just stood there awkwardly talking and still not touching. Or even standing near each other. We then moved into the living room (still with no drinks) and sat on the couch not touching.
Both of us were covered in salt and nastiness from sweating at the Duke game. We stank. We were tired. I finally held his hand because he was not making a move. And then everything changed.
He is a good kisser. My doubts about his feelings for me were erased over the next hour. We kept our clothes on and will continue to do so until I figure out if he generally likes boobs on his couch or if he really likes me attached to my boobs anywhere. But the meek little theology nerd is a very, very good kisser.
And that is how I ran out of gas two miles from my exit at 11pm.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
um, awkward...
Here is how things unfolded.
The man: Hey, I am trying to get tickets to the Duke/Alabama game next weekend. I will now make clear to you that I am very excited about that game. Would you be interested?
Me: Sure!
(radio silence about the game)
Him: So I was thinking this weekend, there is a concert at a local restaurant. Would you be interested?
Me: Sure! It is a date! This Friday! (I'm never really that enthusiastic, but I'm trying to keep it short)
(still radio silence about the game...meanwhile I learn that is a big game to go to and everyone is trying to get tickets. I have wealthy friends who have extra tickets they are trying to get rid of.)
Me via email: Hey, there are several folks talking about tickets to that game next weekend. Let me know if your contact falls through!
(still radio silence about the game. We are, however, talking for at least an hour every night of the week)
Me: So did you get my email about the game tickets? Totally no pressure, just wanted you to know I may have some connections (the tickets were going fast in my circles and this guy seemed to care a lot about the game. I couldn't care less)
Him: Oh, I am going to call my contact right now. I'll let you know tomorrow.
Him: Got tickets to the game!
Me: Yay! You are the man!
Later that day....
Him: So, I just wanted to throw out there that if you want to back out of tomorrow night. You know, two dates two days in a row. If that would be too much of me, I understand. We can just leave it at the game.
Me: Wait, the game is this weekend? As in two days? Oh. (processing, processing, oh crap)
Now I have unknowingly pushed a man into two dates two days in a row. I would wig the hell out if someone did that to me. I told him that I was up for it, but if he was politely trying to get out of it, I understand. Now I think we are both too polite to back out.
So, now I have two dates two days in a row. This could be magic. Or disaster.
The man: Hey, I am trying to get tickets to the Duke/Alabama game next weekend. I will now make clear to you that I am very excited about that game. Would you be interested?
Me: Sure!
(radio silence about the game)
Him: So I was thinking this weekend, there is a concert at a local restaurant. Would you be interested?
Me: Sure! It is a date! This Friday! (I'm never really that enthusiastic, but I'm trying to keep it short)
(still radio silence about the game...meanwhile I learn that is a big game to go to and everyone is trying to get tickets. I have wealthy friends who have extra tickets they are trying to get rid of.)
Me via email: Hey, there are several folks talking about tickets to that game next weekend. Let me know if your contact falls through!
(still radio silence about the game. We are, however, talking for at least an hour every night of the week)
Me: So did you get my email about the game tickets? Totally no pressure, just wanted you to know I may have some connections (the tickets were going fast in my circles and this guy seemed to care a lot about the game. I couldn't care less)
Him: Oh, I am going to call my contact right now. I'll let you know tomorrow.
Him: Got tickets to the game!
Me: Yay! You are the man!
Later that day....
Him: So, I just wanted to throw out there that if you want to back out of tomorrow night. You know, two dates two days in a row. If that would be too much of me, I understand. We can just leave it at the game.
Me: Wait, the game is this weekend? As in two days? Oh. (processing, processing, oh crap)
Now I have unknowingly pushed a man into two dates two days in a row. I would wig the hell out if someone did that to me. I told him that I was up for it, but if he was politely trying to get out of it, I understand. Now I think we are both too polite to back out.
So, now I have two dates two days in a row. This could be magic. Or disaster.
Monday, September 13, 2010
well, okay
Well, um, so. Okay. He emailed. Nothing amazing. So I emailed back (after waiting a couple of cool hours) and asked if he was interested in getting together again. He replied quickly. Twice. Asked if he could call.
And so we talked. It was a good conversation. Warm, affectionate, and I was damned charming. We are going to a concert and dinner on Friday. In addition to those fairly satisfying events, he emailed twice after we hung up just to thank me for the wonderful conversation.
I am relieved. This isn't because of the silly weakness you expect- because a short bald man finally asked me out again. It is because I can now cancel the tentative date with the young, hot PhD student with mommy issues. That is a different kind of silly weakness!
Tonight I've decided to put all of my eggs into one basket and see how this plays out. Such decisions are almost guaranteed to lead to more disappointment and heartache. Playing out may end after this weekend and I will have to go back to that PhD student with a few broken eggs.
So, there they are. All in one basket. That doesn't mean that my entire heart is in there with the eggs. Just a lot of hope.
And so we talked. It was a good conversation. Warm, affectionate, and I was damned charming. We are going to a concert and dinner on Friday. In addition to those fairly satisfying events, he emailed twice after we hung up just to thank me for the wonderful conversation.
I am relieved. This isn't because of the silly weakness you expect- because a short bald man finally asked me out again. It is because I can now cancel the tentative date with the young, hot PhD student with mommy issues. That is a different kind of silly weakness!
Tonight I've decided to put all of my eggs into one basket and see how this plays out. Such decisions are almost guaranteed to lead to more disappointment and heartache. Playing out may end after this weekend and I will have to go back to that PhD student with a few broken eggs.
So, there they are. All in one basket. That doesn't mean that my entire heart is in there with the eggs. Just a lot of hope.
ha-HA!
Okay, so predictably he did not email by 2pm today. I've decided to step away from being the anxious, hopeful girl right now. Instead, I contacted a younger, hotter PhD student that I'd been talking to before going on any dates.
We will probably hang out this weekend. He is hot. And younger. Ha. (okay, so I'm not really excited about the hotter, younger PhD student because he is on the rebound and only 25 and wants to be with an older woman, which screams mommy issues)
Now I don't need to check my email. I have a date with a hot, young PhD student with mommy issues. He is 1) intelligent 2) a Christian and 3) working in a career. Maybe I will try to get a picture before the date goes south.
Now that little bald methodist man can take his time in emailing me. I do have a life, you know. (I think if I keep saying it, it will be true)
We will probably hang out this weekend. He is hot. And younger. Ha. (okay, so I'm not really excited about the hotter, younger PhD student because he is on the rebound and only 25 and wants to be with an older woman, which screams mommy issues)
Now I don't need to check my email. I have a date with a hot, young PhD student with mommy issues. He is 1) intelligent 2) a Christian and 3) working in a career. Maybe I will try to get a picture before the date goes south.
Now that little bald methodist man can take his time in emailing me. I do have a life, you know. (I think if I keep saying it, it will be true)
Sunday, September 12, 2010
he emailed...
Finally. It took him almost 24 hours! (yes, I know that I am completely irrational. I've decided to embrace crazy in my 30's...just imagine this blog being read by the voice of Bridget Jones. See? I am charming, damn it.)
Now I am much calmer. I mean, his email wasn't anything special. He may not be good enough for me after all.
So I emailed him back. Short, pleasant, charming email.
Now I will give myself until 2:00pm tomorrow before I start to panick and feel that he has the power again. At that point, I will begin to beg God to make him love me. For now, it is just another silly man I went on a date with once.
Now I am much calmer. I mean, his email wasn't anything special. He may not be good enough for me after all.
So I emailed him back. Short, pleasant, charming email.
Now I will give myself until 2:00pm tomorrow before I start to panick and feel that he has the power again. At that point, I will begin to beg God to make him love me. For now, it is just another silly man I went on a date with once.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
the awakening
Damn it. I sent him an email 3 hours ago and he hasn't replied. Am I obsessing? Of course. I forgot about this part of dating.
The exchange of power. The anxious excitement toward the unknown. I shouldn't have sent the damned email. I wasn't in an emailing mood, but he sent me two in a row.
Since I replied, he has the power. Now I am the one who opens yahoo, signs in, and feels my heart stop until I see if there are any new messages. Yes? Two new messages? Please God, don't let it be a Facebook notice saying that my pot-addicted friend has posted two more comments on how much he loves everyone. I don't care, Rod. You will hate us in a week, Rod. You better the hell not be wasting my hope looking at those two beautiful blue numbers next to "inbox" on your Facebook comments, Rod.
And so, breathe held and heart stopped, I click on the magical blue 2 next to inbox.
Damn it. Both emails from Facebook. Fuck you, Rod! Get a life! (she judges from her obsessive online pursuits at home in pj's on a Saturday night) My heart drops. I've given a man power over me as I anxiously wait for the next email.
All will be better once I get his next email. I am then free to smugly wonder if he is good enough for me. I can take my precious time in replying. I will enjoy holding the power for a little while.
Petty? Yes. Reality all the same. A little bald man who I, with time, am coming to like more and more and am coming to think really is quite full of himself now holds the email power.
Damn it. I know he is just writing a sermon. I will go empower myself and watch TV. Who has time for emailing anyway? I have a life, you know.
The exchange of power. The anxious excitement toward the unknown. I shouldn't have sent the damned email. I wasn't in an emailing mood, but he sent me two in a row.
Since I replied, he has the power. Now I am the one who opens yahoo, signs in, and feels my heart stop until I see if there are any new messages. Yes? Two new messages? Please God, don't let it be a Facebook notice saying that my pot-addicted friend has posted two more comments on how much he loves everyone. I don't care, Rod. You will hate us in a week, Rod. You better the hell not be wasting my hope looking at those two beautiful blue numbers next to "inbox" on your Facebook comments, Rod.
And so, breathe held and heart stopped, I click on the magical blue 2 next to inbox.
Damn it. Both emails from Facebook. Fuck you, Rod! Get a life! (she judges from her obsessive online pursuits at home in pj's on a Saturday night) My heart drops. I've given a man power over me as I anxiously wait for the next email.
All will be better once I get his next email. I am then free to smugly wonder if he is good enough for me. I can take my precious time in replying. I will enjoy holding the power for a little while.
Petty? Yes. Reality all the same. A little bald man who I, with time, am coming to like more and more and am coming to think really is quite full of himself now holds the email power.
Damn it. I know he is just writing a sermon. I will go empower myself and watch TV. Who has time for emailing anyway? I have a life, you know.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
hope?
Tonight was good. I went on a date with a short bald man who wears little rimless glasses, has a pointy egg-head, ears that stick out every-so-slightly, and who quotes Yoda. The Yoda makes the former description all the better, doesn't it?
Tonight was good! I like this little man who quotes Yoda. Keep in mind that I am six feet tall, so "little" means 5'8". Conversation was pleasant. He made me laugh in a good way. I couldn't read how he felt about the night, but he mentioned going to a football game.
In summary, I've stumbled upon a date experience that leaves me with hope. Even if it is a short-lived hope, it is waaaaaaaaay more hope than I've had in years. This may actually be the most positive I've felt after a first date with anyone!
I am not falling asleep with dreams of marriage or even of making out. I do lay in bed hopeful that a man likes me as much as I like him. For my cynical, weary self, that is a wonderful gift! Thank you, Yoda!
Tonight was good! I like this little man who quotes Yoda. Keep in mind that I am six feet tall, so "little" means 5'8". Conversation was pleasant. He made me laugh in a good way. I couldn't read how he felt about the night, but he mentioned going to a football game.
In summary, I've stumbled upon a date experience that leaves me with hope. Even if it is a short-lived hope, it is waaaaaaaaay more hope than I've had in years. This may actually be the most positive I've felt after a first date with anyone!
I am not falling asleep with dreams of marriage or even of making out. I do lay in bed hopeful that a man likes me as much as I like him. For my cynical, weary self, that is a wonderful gift! Thank you, Yoda!
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
rabies infested aliens
This is what it is like to work with teenagers:
Me: Hi! Welcome!
Them: Blurp. Sarcasm. Hi. (a very loaded statement)
Me: This is what we are going to do tonight!
Them: Why are you trying to oppress me? Why do you exist? Did you say something...I was too busy thinking about myself.
Me: Okay, now listen. Here is very important and wonderful information.
Them: How does my hair look? I am going to talk to the person next to me so that my brain doesn't explode. Why aren't I doing what I want instead of this shit?
Me: No, really, listen now.
Them: I have a sudden and overwhelming need to punch, flirt with, or mock the person next to me. I am emotionally incapable of recognizing the thoughts or souls of anyone over the age of 18.
Me: Well, you lost the game. No one listened to the rules.
Them: You suck! Why do you hate me? I hope you die and that this church burns down. Injustice makes my entire world black for the rest of the night.
Me: I need a drink. (not aloud to them)
Them: I am going home to tell my parents and the entire county that you are a horrible minister. I am going to rally friends against you and try to get you fired. Since I didn't win that game, I no longer believe in Jesus. Fuck you.
Me: Fuck you back. I still need a drink.
Tonight was tiring. One rabies infested alien of a teenager made me lose all hope in humanity. I am now going home for a drink. Goodnight world.
Me: Hi! Welcome!
Them: Blurp. Sarcasm. Hi. (a very loaded statement)
Me: This is what we are going to do tonight!
Them: Why are you trying to oppress me? Why do you exist? Did you say something...I was too busy thinking about myself.
Me: Okay, now listen. Here is very important and wonderful information.
Them: How does my hair look? I am going to talk to the person next to me so that my brain doesn't explode. Why aren't I doing what I want instead of this shit?
Me: No, really, listen now.
Them: I have a sudden and overwhelming need to punch, flirt with, or mock the person next to me. I am emotionally incapable of recognizing the thoughts or souls of anyone over the age of 18.
Me: Well, you lost the game. No one listened to the rules.
Them: You suck! Why do you hate me? I hope you die and that this church burns down. Injustice makes my entire world black for the rest of the night.
Me: I need a drink. (not aloud to them)
Them: I am going home to tell my parents and the entire county that you are a horrible minister. I am going to rally friends against you and try to get you fired. Since I didn't win that game, I no longer believe in Jesus. Fuck you.
Me: Fuck you back. I still need a drink.
Tonight was tiring. One rabies infested alien of a teenager made me lose all hope in humanity. I am now going home for a drink. Goodnight world.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
date #2
On Thursday I am going to have drinks with a short, bald man. He is a Methodist minister in the city (yay!) who went to a good school (yay!) and who writes in complete sentences (yay!). I am not falling asleep dreaming of this little minister-man. So far, he falls into the pattern I was reminded of in date #1. We talk about him and his ministry. He thinks that I am wonderful and that we are hitting it off. I feel like I am at work.
Oh well. At least I will do my hair and must do laundry before Thursday. I am forcing self-care upon myself by dating again. It is screwed up, but at least it is something.
p.s. Today sucked ass. A crazy drug-addicted man showed back up in my office telling me about his month on the run with a 15 year-old girl he was trying to knock up. We always see him when he's been released from jail. He sang two songs and talked for an hour about who he has beat up since I saw him last, including the 15 year-old girl.
My car (old car) did not start and I need to sell it this week. While that affirms my need for the new car, it sucks ass.
I lost 5 hours worth of mind-numbing typing work on an external hard drive that apparently doesn't save changes.
Now I have heartburn sitting in bed. That Hostess cupcake at midnight probably didn't help. See? If I had a man in my bed, I wouldn't have eaten that Hostess cupcake.
Oh well. At least I will do my hair and must do laundry before Thursday. I am forcing self-care upon myself by dating again. It is screwed up, but at least it is something.
p.s. Today sucked ass. A crazy drug-addicted man showed back up in my office telling me about his month on the run with a 15 year-old girl he was trying to knock up. We always see him when he's been released from jail. He sang two songs and talked for an hour about who he has beat up since I saw him last, including the 15 year-old girl.
My car (old car) did not start and I need to sell it this week. While that affirms my need for the new car, it sucks ass.
I lost 5 hours worth of mind-numbing typing work on an external hard drive that apparently doesn't save changes.
Now I have heartburn sitting in bed. That Hostess cupcake at midnight probably didn't help. See? If I had a man in my bed, I wouldn't have eaten that Hostess cupcake.
is this art?
The date was...okay. It left me exhausted and no more excited about dating than I was five months ago.
The good: He was a nice man. He seemed nervous and, therefore, very interested in me. He did not make any creeper moves. Toward the end of the date the conversation improved a little bit.
The bad: I was not attracted to him. He wasn't ugly, but there was no spark. He also talked about himself a LOT, which reminded me of a harsh dating pattern in my life. The date goes well if I ask the man about himself and let him talk. He always thinks it is a great date. I leave feeling like I just played the role of minister.
The ugly: If you are going to take a woman to a museum for a date, act as if you are comfortable in museums. He was antsy and too distracted to look at the art. His unintelligence came through when he said he had a test for me. He took me to an abstract painting and said, "Is this really art? I mean, why is this in a museum?" That seemed to be his main comment the entire time. Good job, Mr. 38 year-old. You are making the jokes I made in the 10th grade. Other adults are uncomfortable for you because you are talking too loud and saying sad, sad things.
He was not the man of my dreams. He asked if I was an art major because I read the plaques on the wall and noticed the texture of the paintings. Let's be clear. I used no big words and I know next to nothing about art. I said things like, "that is a LOT of paint." He was intimidated. I didn't have the heart to tell him I went to Princeton.
The date was not a work of art. It was, however, a start. I left the date tired and disappointed, but at least I did my hair and wore a sexy shirt. Baby steps.
The good: He was a nice man. He seemed nervous and, therefore, very interested in me. He did not make any creeper moves. Toward the end of the date the conversation improved a little bit.
The bad: I was not attracted to him. He wasn't ugly, but there was no spark. He also talked about himself a LOT, which reminded me of a harsh dating pattern in my life. The date goes well if I ask the man about himself and let him talk. He always thinks it is a great date. I leave feeling like I just played the role of minister.
The ugly: If you are going to take a woman to a museum for a date, act as if you are comfortable in museums. He was antsy and too distracted to look at the art. His unintelligence came through when he said he had a test for me. He took me to an abstract painting and said, "Is this really art? I mean, why is this in a museum?" That seemed to be his main comment the entire time. Good job, Mr. 38 year-old. You are making the jokes I made in the 10th grade. Other adults are uncomfortable for you because you are talking too loud and saying sad, sad things.
He was not the man of my dreams. He asked if I was an art major because I read the plaques on the wall and noticed the texture of the paintings. Let's be clear. I used no big words and I know next to nothing about art. I said things like, "that is a LOT of paint." He was intimidated. I didn't have the heart to tell him I went to Princeton.
The date was not a work of art. It was, however, a start. I left the date tired and disappointed, but at least I did my hair and wore a sexy shirt. Baby steps.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
I am suing USA
Shawn Spencer, a character on the show "Psych" is trying to bring back the use of "not." There can only be one explanation to this. USA producers all read my blog, stole the idea from months ago, and are now putting it in their shows without giving me any credit.
Damn you, USA producers. I know you are reading this. I want my cut of the profits from this week's show.
Damn you, USA producers. I know you are reading this. I want my cut of the profits from this week's show.
because I am weak...
I am going on a date this Sunday. Yes, I am blowing off the last month of my sabbatical from men and going on a date. With a man.
Why? I am weak. I can't even claim that some amazing man walked into my life and I had no choice but to let him sweep me off my feet.
No such glory. I went online and re-joined all of the dating sites. Within a week, I found someone who I am only somewhat excited about meeting. We are going to the museum on Sunday.
I am okay with this. In the last five months, I've mourned men of my past, re-empowered myself as a single woman, thrown full-blown pity parties, and quit caring about my physical appearance all together. It is that last thing that sends me back into the world of dating.
My house is a wreck because no one has entered the front door in 4 months. I've gained 15 pounds because my life is nothing but work and sleep. Even with great friends, I am generally lonely. Work is so busy that there are few things I can point to as my personal life.
Back to dating! The sabbatical did change me. I am no longer considering men who I know are a waste of time (no full-time job, don't believe in God, watch Fox news, etc.).
And so, my first date in 5 1/2 months is on Sunday. We will call him Mr. Evolution.
That isn't a name symbolizing the evolution of my dating process. It is because he doesn't believe in evolution. I know.
That is why I'm not completely excited. He does work full-time in a professional job, goes to church, works with prison ministries, believes in women in ministry, and he can spell. Those things hit enough basics to get a 1 1/2 hour date on Sunday.
I'll let you know how it goes.
Why? I am weak. I can't even claim that some amazing man walked into my life and I had no choice but to let him sweep me off my feet.
No such glory. I went online and re-joined all of the dating sites. Within a week, I found someone who I am only somewhat excited about meeting. We are going to the museum on Sunday.
I am okay with this. In the last five months, I've mourned men of my past, re-empowered myself as a single woman, thrown full-blown pity parties, and quit caring about my physical appearance all together. It is that last thing that sends me back into the world of dating.
My house is a wreck because no one has entered the front door in 4 months. I've gained 15 pounds because my life is nothing but work and sleep. Even with great friends, I am generally lonely. Work is so busy that there are few things I can point to as my personal life.
Back to dating! The sabbatical did change me. I am no longer considering men who I know are a waste of time (no full-time job, don't believe in God, watch Fox news, etc.).
And so, my first date in 5 1/2 months is on Sunday. We will call him Mr. Evolution.
That isn't a name symbolizing the evolution of my dating process. It is because he doesn't believe in evolution. I know.
That is why I'm not completely excited. He does work full-time in a professional job, goes to church, works with prison ministries, believes in women in ministry, and he can spell. Those things hit enough basics to get a 1 1/2 hour date on Sunday.
I'll let you know how it goes.
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