Time Flies When You're Having Funemployment

If you can believe it, I was laid off from my job exactly one year ago.

It doesn't even seem possible that it has been 365 days since I sat in that office, my manager's manager looking everywhere but at me while an HR person that I never saw before handed me a packet and said words that made no sense to me. "Your job has been eliminated."

I just saw the movie "Up in the Air", and, as much as it was a really sweet movie (and George Clooney's love interest, a horsey, borderline attractive older woman, was totally unbelievable..but that's another story), there were many scenes where the main character had to lay people off that made me really uncomfortable...their reactions were not unlike my own. Crying, disbelieving, angry. I always wondered how others reacted while being told they were no longer needed...that they were no longer going to be bringing money in...if they, too, looked at their manager's manager with tears streaming down their face and said "I'm totally fucked."

I remember I walked back to my office in a fog after telling them I wanted the entire day to pack up my things. I got back to my desk, to the space that I shared with my boss and another co-worker. They were both crying. I literally slammed into my chair, looked at her and said "do not talk to me right now." She had only found out that morning that I was getting canned, and there was nothing she could do about it.

I was really freaked out. 4 years of work landed me about a month and one week of severance. I paid my rent and all my bills myself-no husband or live-in lover to share the burden. I had no savings to speak of other than a few thousand in the bank. I was a typical New Yorker who lived by the seat of my pants, enjoyed life a little too much, and never planned for the future.

Feels like forever ago, yet it feels like yesterday. Funny, that.

It Was Only a Matter of Time

Something that has been very hard for me to accept as a part-time unemployed person is the idea of losing one's sense of pride.

Between the begging for work (yes, it's gotten to the point of begging), and picking up freelance jobs that are so FAR beneath one's abilities and salary requirements, you can't really let your ego get in the way. This also goes for the part-time jobs that you might have to add to your resume to make ends meet-in my case, my twice-a-week gig as a hostess in a tex-mex/beach shack restaurant where they are big on dressing like a cross between someone out of "Oklahoma" and a mermaid. I call it Slutty Cowgirl Chic. My manager is obsessed with flair. Cowboy hats, anchors, sea creatures. Throw it all together and you've got...well...kind of a mess, actually.

At any rate, this is what it's come down to, and like it or not, it's the state of affairs (and truth be told, it's fun to dress up and look a little silly from time to time (it's definitely inspired some, uh, interesting bedroom role-playing ideas).

The other night a couple with a baby walked in and asked for a table for 3. The woman looked really familiar to me, but I couldn't place her, and she looked at me strangely as well. I pulled out some menus and as I was about to show them to a table she asked me "Is your name Cheese?"

Ah fuck. Busted.

I recognized her immediately as someone that I worked with a million years ago, at my "real" job. She got herself a husband and a baby. I got myself a cowboy hat and...not much else. Crap.

"What are you doing here?" she asked incredulously.

I then felt that I had to explain my entire situation. Oh, you know, I was laid off. Oh you know, I freelance, REALLY...but summer is slow. Oh you know, I have a cowgirl fetish and this satisfies my fantasy of being Ginger Rogers. Good lord...what was I doing here? It's a fucking job.

I showed them to their table and she explained to her hubby that we used to work together at (big bad ad agency). He raised his eyebrows and said "oh really". I then lingered at their table for a moment longer, catching up on life with my ex-coworker. Her husband cut in and asked "So are you our server or what?" I guess I was overstaying my welcome, since now I am no longer their "equals" but just a servant in a restaurant.

I told him their server would be with them momentarily, and to enjoy their meal. Like a dutiful hostess would do. I then hid in the kitchen for the remainder of their time there.

If I learned anything from that exchange, I would say it was that ultimately, I do not want to end up like those people. A big, fat, post-pregnant stay-at-home mom married to a big, fat, schlubby asshole who think people are "beneath" them if you are not sitting behind a big fat desk in a big fat office making a big fat salary. I'll keep my cowboy hat and my flair. And my dignity..somewhere in there...

Once a Firecracker...

I find that I tend to blog when things feel like they're going downhill in my life..thankfully, as my infrequent musings have shown, this is not all that often. However, when the downward spiral begins, it feels infinite and awful and I forget all the wonderfulness that has lead up to this very moment. By tomorrow, the spiral will most likely go in reverse, but at this moment, it is endless.

I am finding that my happiness definitely seems to stem from adoration of others, which is tricky, as people's adoration of me certainly waxes and wanes like the phases of the moon (which also weigh heavily on my happiness, since I am a Cancer baby, through and through). Throw in some good ole PMS and we've got some good old-fashioned wallowing, to be examined and picked apart like a Michael Jackson autopsy.

So let's see...what's been going on to lead up to this moment?

I have had a phenomenal summer. Truly. How could I not? I have been on an extended hiatus from work, and the last 3 weeks have been heaven as far as the weather is concerned. I'm tanner and hotter than I've probably ever been, due to many trips to the beach, pool and gym, as well as all the bike riding and yoga I've gotten accustomed to. I have great friends, many of whom are also on hiatus from work, so I have plenty of people to play with and keep me entertained.

I have been lucky so far in that I have been able to find freelance work when things have gotten bleak-I look at my bank account and kick my self-promotion into high-gear...I know how to market myself when I need to and it's proven to be fruitful...I took on a part-time job at an amazing establishment to keep me afloat, and I really enjoy it. I'm meeting fun people and have absolutely shaken up my "comfort zone" which seems to be the theme of 2009, over and over again.

I am doing my Montauk share house again and I adore it. I adore the people in the house and I am obsessed with Montauk..always have been. There's something about that town that is magical and soothing, and I am so lucky and thankful for every second I get to spend there. So there's that.

So what is the fucking problem?

Well. For starters. Money. There never seems to be enough of it. I always had money issues, because I am a serial spender...I have always made good money..not great money, but definitely enough to live on...and I frittered it away without a second thought. Now I have to worry about every cent that is earned and every cent that is spent (I don't much spend time on the latter, still) but what's weird is that I don't love money all that much, so I don't spend a lot of time trying to earn it. I just want enough to get by. Which makes me feel unmotivated and without goals. Which leads me to...

Creative output. I have had 8 months of freedom, basically, give or take some freelance work here and there. I have come up with some brilliant ideas. Many of which I have seen executed by others. I have had an idea for a book that my publishing friend told me is amazing, but I need to get on it NOW. Have I done any of it? Of course not. Honestly, my free days off have been consumed with how many hours I can spend at the gym (which is way too expensive but I cannot bear to cancel my membership) and how many people I can squeeze into my social calendar. I have half-assedly talked to some people about some of my ideas, and they are all "on board", but not really, because everyone is concerned with their own aspirations right now, understandably. I rely on others to make my dreams happen. This is apparent in life, as well as love. Which doesn't help me all that much.

I haven't dated in several months. I think this is partly because I am too comfortable being single. Possibly because I spent most of this year being obsessed with (Remax2) which felt safe. I have finally come to terms with my Remax2 issues. But that makes me feel empty...you spend so much time obsessing over someone and hoping for the best, and when you come to the realization that it isn't going to happen (even when you knew all along that it wasn't), it leaves you with, well, nothing. I have cancelled all my online dating subscriptions-I don't want to meet someone that way, and it's becoming more and more apparent that I'm NOT going to meet someone that way. So goodbye to that. But that safety net has been cut, so even more so I have to rely on my "charisma" and "charm" to make that happen, which as we all know hasn't been very productive.

I keep thinking that I want to want someone. But ultimately I might find it easier to be alone.

The other day at my part-time job I was jamming out to some old Adam and the Ants that was on the stereo. One of my coworkers, who is probably a good 10 years older than me, blurted out "I bet you were a real firecracker when you were a teenager."

I actually wasn't. I'm a firecracker now. But at the age of 41, the spark is weak.

Is This The Real Life? Is This Just Fantasy?

So, I have come to yet another realization about myself that has possibly been obvious to all of you for the last however many years you have been tuning into my life, but not so much to me...I clearly have a) commitment issues and b) I live in a fantasy world.

I find myself yet again entrenched in a situation that can only go nowhere, yet I spend so much time and energy on it. Admittedly, it is fun. It is an ego boost. And I am enjoying every second of this flirtation, for what it's worth. Yet I find that I am allowing it to take the place of all other intersexual relationships in my life at this moment.

There are a zillion nice guys who would be more than happy to spend time with me if I gave them half a chance. There is something different in me, something not so caring, that is making all the guys I come into contact with less important..and somehow, that makes me more desirable. But I don't give two flying fucks, because I am so engrossed in a situation that can't possibly go anywhere (although my way of thinking-as always in these situations-is never say never)..which is equal parts titillating and frustrating. The thrill of the game is always there, which is exciting. But the fact of the matter is that as real as it feels, it's a fucking game. Yet again, I prefer to be a pawn than live out the role of a real-life human in a big, fat adult relationship.

What the fuck is that?

Am I seriously still this fucked up over my last relationship that I can't fathom something real?
Or have I always been this retarded?

Either way, the realization is giving me too much to think about, and we all know how much I hate to do that.

Epiphany

Yesterday was Date #2 with Truffle Man.

I was a little bit nervous to meet up with Truffle Man, as I'd had a pleasant time with him on our last date, and didn't want to expect too much or be too hopeful. I also had a hard time with the outfit decision...usually by date 2 I am letting it all hang out (if not already on date 1) but I'm trying to be more demure in my old age, as I've mentioned before. I settled on a halter top with a short but respectable skirt and flat sandals. I looked casual yet put together. Cute with a hint of sexy, but not obvious.

Imagine my surprise when I got to the restaurant and Truffle Man was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts, and Birkenstocks.

Yup, Birkenstocks.

I do not condone this outfit even if he were going to the beach. Which he wasn't. He was meeting me at 8pm for a dinner...granted it wasn't a fancy dinner, but it was our second date, and dammit, I have to worry about how I look, why the fuck doesn't he???

I was giving myself a hard time inside my head for being the kind of girl who cares about such things, but honestly, it was hard to allow myself to look past it. But I did, because he's nice, and I enjoy his company. But I couldn't help feeling like, in throwing on such an ensemble, he just didn't give a flying fuck about our date (or...even worse, he thought very carefully about it, and that was the outfit that he came up with, which is really frightening..so I try not to think about that).

I concentrated on our food and the conversation that took place for the next 2 hrs. Light flirting went into play, and I eased up about the bad outfit.

It was becoming increasingly clear that he was enjoying my company, and he hinted several times about seeing me again...doing things in the future...all very nice, very good things. We went to my local bar, had a drink...and then I started to get tired.

Now I know me, if I like a guy, tired be damned...I will rally. But all of a sudden I just really wanted to go. So he walked me home. And I realized that he was about the same height as me. And I was wearing flats, remember...I got to my apartment and I think he was waiting for an invite up. I hugged him goodbye, kissed him sort of on the mouth and thanked him for a good time. He looked disappointed. I was relieved.

Don't get me wrong, if he asks me out again (which I think he will) I will say yes. I have not completely given up on this. I don't care that much about the outfit. What I care about is that I don't feel attracted enough to him, and as much as I could learn to feel attracted to him, I'm just not conditioned that way. I truly believe that you like who you like, and that is just the way it goes.

I know you are all reading this and shaking your heads and thinking about all the times I wished I had a nice guy and all the times I cried over Remax2 and all the times I hated that I was single. But here's what I have been realizing over and over...I am not going to settle. I have been single for too long now, and I'm kind of ok with it...I want to be the type of person who doesn't need instant animal magnetism to be with a man. But I'm not. I cannot "learn" to be attracted to someone. It's not in my genetic makeup. I'm not going to date someone just for the sake of not being alone...as tempting as it can be. Maybe something will click for me the next time I see him. Or maybe he's another candidate for the Friend Zone.

It's not him, it's ME.

And four days later...

So, I reread what I wrote a mere 4 days ago and I feel like this week has had a significant turnaround. Truth be told, not all that much has happened, but I guess when you have absolutely NOTHING going on, a few small events can feel like the earth has shifted.

I did NOT get picked to be a juror. Thank GOD. It was quite a hilarious ride though. By day 3 I had developed such a crush on the Keith Partridge haired attorney. I don't even know that he was all that attractive, but I guess when you're sitting in the front row of a very small room listening to the same questions be asked and answered over and over again, you can make Carrot Top look like Brad Pitt. Or something like that. I caused quite a ruckus...I brought up a reason why they may not exactly want me on their jury...I had a beef with the defendant...I got taken outside a lot. I had to visit the judge. Keith Partridge hair told me I was an attention whore (well, he didn't say whore...but we all know I am one, so...) Then finally, FINALLY they let me go on Day 3. I waited for Keith Partridge hair to make his move. He did not. C'est la vie ;)

Tuesday night I had a date-yes a date!-with the not Jacques Torres truffle-maker. It was actually quite successful! We had a respectable two drinks. I did not wear a slutty outfit, figuring it was time to weed out the dudes who only liked me for my boobs. He told me how he had planned a surprise for me initially, had we gone out to dinner (I nixed dinner in lieu of first meeting drinks. NEVER do first date dinner. NEVER!) and my response was "Oh, were you going to propose?" At which he laughed. And not nervously, might I add. He drove me home, and there was a brief hug at the door. And he emailed me the next day and promptly invited me out again. So. We'll see.

My long distance paramour and I have been flirting shamelessly and endlessly all over the internet. Last night, after getting home from a night out in the East Village with Remax2, Mr Long Distance and I texted (sexted?) until 5am. He is coming here in July and I'm both intrigued and frightened about this visit. Too many expectations have been flung out there already, but then again, the power of suggestion is very, very mighty. So who knows. All in fun, right?

Remax2. He's still around. I think he is a lifer. I have no more to say on that.

I attended a going away party tonight for an ex-blogger friend, and reconnected with a
really great group of people that I regret I don't get to see more often. I'm thrilled for my friend and excited for her new life, but I am going to miss our neighborhood jaunts and dinners!

I did not hear back from any of the places that I interviewed at a few weeks back, and no new job opportunities have come up in my industry that I know of. I did, however, meet up with my friend and put in my application to hostess at the new restaurant she's managing. I also started applying for writing jobs...something that I never had the balls to do before. I even sent some writing samples from this very blog in response to a Craigs List ad looking for "sexy, smart, funny stories for a new nightlife publication".

So. We shall see.

Treading Water

I'm having a really hard time deciding if my life is going to get decidedly more exciting, or if it's just all going to blow up in my face in a big and bad way. Or neither. Maybe it's just wishful thinking, being that I've been coasting for the last six months or so and don't really have anything to show for it, and therefore need to hope and pray that I end up with something magnificent before I die of ennui or get evicted from my apartment.

Since I am still pretty much unemployed (had two interviews last week but haven't heard anything since then) I am going to have to get creative with the job hunt. I'm talking to a friend of mine about hostessing at a restaurant she manages. I'm looking at an opening at my favorite ice cream shop. I'm scouring the internet for weird odd jobs and, yet again, contemplating the nude model idea from way back when. My big bad memoir hasn't even begun to be written, so the likelihood of THAT providing me with any income anytime soon is just a wet dream at this point...but don't get me started or I will break down and sob about what a waste of life I am, and that, my friends, will just not be pretty.

As for my love life...it's still pretty pathetic...and probably will remain so (which is still being done on purpose...I got a lecture from one of my friends a couple weeks ago that I am just still not ready to meet someone...and she is probably absolutely right). BUT, I have a few things up my sleeve by the way of a long-distance fling...a musician who is traveling the world right now...and a guy who owned his own truffle company (unfortunately it is NOT Jacques Torres). Of course none of these things are going to lead to anything good or real, but if I'm not "ready"...then why not have some fun while I wait it out, right?

And I totally caught a lawyer looking at my tits during the voir dire at jury duty today. He has Keith Partridge hair, feathered and all...and I kinda think he's hot. If I don't get picked for the case I'm going to try really hard to get me some of that. Haha!

I'm So Precious

So. Self-improvement has begun. The workouts have been jacked up. The late nights have been curbed. The job search has been back in full-swing. Creative projects are coming out of my ears. Dating has been put on the back burner-my bike is slowly replacing food/sex/booze when I'm bored/antsy/sad/fill in negative emotion here.

All good things. All very, very good things.

Except the dating being put on the back-burner. I mean, yes, that is a good thing. Not worrying about men and their needs and wants and desire or lack thereof has been extremely beneficial to my well-being and sanity, to be sure. Of course, my libido is raging and girls still have their own needs...which battery-operated boyfriends can only help fulfill to a certain extent, let's face it.

I never said I wanted to be a nun, for fucks sake. But that seems to be the direction that I am headed.

There's this guy who appears in my yoga classes from time to time. The first time I saw him I had to do a double-take as he looked SO MUCH like someone I was involved with last year, my heart literally pounded out of my chest when he walked in the room. When I finally calmed down and realized it wasn't who I thought it was, I allowed myself to enjoy the view (this guy definitely shares a similar look to my past paramour, but is actually much, much more attractive).

Since that first viewing, Yoga Guy has been in a handful of classes with me. Everytime, I crush on him just a little bit more. Harmless, right?

Yes, until last week, when he plopped his mat next to mine one morning and I decided that this must be a sign for me to engage him in scintillating conversation. Because wouldn't it be great to have "our story" be how we met in yoga class? Instead of on a dating website? Or at an orgy?

How to do it was a different story.

I spent the hour strutting my Vinyasa like a peacock, perfectly flowing, flexing and twisting for his benefit. You know, in case he happened to be checking out my moves. I'd never been more graceful or in perfect form, and I was pretty sure he noticed and was, in fact, highly impressed with my yoga prowess.

At the end of class, I found myself lingering, sitting on my mat, seductively pulling on my socks. He was also lingering, rolling up his mat, getting his stuff together. I had to say something, it was now or never.

I half turned to him and tried to say, "That seemed harder then usual, huh?"

I think what came out of my mouth was something like this: "meh, fow coo nom ma". And even more frustrating, I sort of muttered it. To the open air in front of me.

He looked over at me and sort of half spoke to me back, "Uh...yeah?"

He then turned away.

Note to self. Communication skills with random guys need brushing up. Stat.

Is this the End or Just the Beginning?

Remax1 (my high school boyfriend) just gchatted me for the first time in a while...I probably haven't talked to him in a few months, which isn't abnormal, but there was a brief time where we were so happy to have reconnected after 20 or so years that we were logging on nightly and having clandestine gchat rendezvous.

At any rate, he asked me how things were going, and I mentioned that things on my end were quite boring, actually, and that I had nothing to report.

He said something like "Really? That's so disappointing, I usually enjoy living vicariously through your stories". And: "Whenever I stalk your FB page your pix make you seem like you party just like we were back in High School."

Oh God.

The minute he said that I wanted to log off of the chat and rip down all of my FB pictures and go out and marry the first man I saw even if it was someone who looked like a frog, and pop out a hundred babies and cook a meal barefoot while pregnant.

The truth is, I am getting a little tired of it all. The endless dating/one night stands/unrequited love. The nights out, drinking to excess and laughing about it in the morning. The blogging about it for shits and giggles. I mean seriously, how many more posts can you read about Remax2? About the loser I met on crotch.com who's apartment was so disgusting that the last thing I said before passing out in his bed was "Holy fuck, this is the messiest bedroom I have ever seen." About the fact that I finally fucked the Tall Guy, and he's tall ALL over? Or I saw this one night stand on a dating website and sent him a friendly "good luck to you " email? Or that my stalker is back?

Yea. Boring stuff.

I have been taking a break from this blog because I need it to take a different turn...in addition to needing my life to take a different turn. Perhaps if I start writing about more interesting, important things, my life will become more interesting and important.

Deja Vu

This night was the same as the other nights. Yet different.

Different because, I remember there was chasing. Chasing down the street. Him, chasing after me. What a difference that was.
If it wasn't so fucking comical, it would have felt empowering. Yet it wasn't. It was sad.

"You're not attracted to me. You don't love me." I had said it all before.
And yet again.

"I do love you. I am attracted to you." He said it. I heard it. I'll never stop hearing it.

"So then what?"

I stared at him. Waiting for more. Wishing there was more.

"I. Don't. Know."

Fuck. You.

I got on the subway without looking back. I was afraid to know what it was that would be looking back at me.

Making Sense of it All

One of the recurring themes in my life, as well as this blog, are my unrequited feelings for you-know-who (if you don't know who, then you haven't been reading long enough, and too bad, cuz I removed almost all the posts about him for safety's sake) (I know, I'm so hospitable. Welcome to my blog). I hear myself talk about it, I read what I write about it, and honestly, I have to say, if I were listening to someone else talk about it, I would probably a) punch them in the face, b) tell them they're retarded, or c) put my hands up to my ears and go "la la la I can't hear you" everytime they brought the subject up. I do read about this subject quite a bit in other peoples' blogs (mostly chicks I hate to say) and the question I ask myself everytime is Why? We are smart women. We would give our friends advice about these men such as "He's just not that into you, let him go" or "Stop wasting your time with this douchebag." but when it comes to our own situations we hold onto every little last piece of hope, every word that could mean something else, every ounce of attention that is showered upon us...perhaps this time will be the time.

A couple weeks ago, you-know-who and I went out drinking til 4am. I was out with Akat and he ended up meeting us out at my local watering hole. Akat stuck around to cockblock me from him, which was probably smart, considering the last time he and I went out drinking we talked about "us" for almost the entire time...which didn't really get me anywhere, it actually made me super fucking sad. Of course. Because that's what these types of relationships do. Which is why they don't make sense to keep around. Anyway, Akat got tired of cock blocking me and left (but not before I went out to bum a cigarette from some dude, who I ended up chatting with for a super long time, and you-know-who came out not once but TWICE to see if I was "ok"...um who's cockblocking who now??) and YKH and I stayed out another hour or so before calling it a night...except that he drove me home, and we sat in his car for yet ANOTHER hour talking. Not about us, this time, thank the lord. But just about life, the universe, whatnot. And as usual, I left his car feeling really confused and upset by our situation. How can he not fucking love me? ME?

Since that night I've tried to curb my communication with him...I let myself be more elusive and not so available...I figure if I just slowly disappear maybe one day I won't give a shit about him anymore and we can *really* be friends...as opposed to this one-sided bullshit. One-sided meaning he thinks we are friends and I will never stop wanting more. But somehow, while out with Akat again last night, he and I ended up texting each other til oh, 2am or so. Who does that? Oh. We do.

I'd forgotten that I'd emailed him earlier that day...I had had a dream about him...he and I were walking on a boardwalk and he bought a dog from someone and when he let me hold the dog for a second I realized it wasn't a dog at all but a rat (I refrained from telling him the part where he and I got it on right there on the dirty old boardwalk with his nasty rat-dog tied to a fence, for obvious reasons). At any rate, at the end of our texting session he tells me that he had read my email about the dream and that it freaked him out...because he had a rat dream also...and right before he saw my email he was thinking about how we're all connected in some way, and then saw that we'd had similar dreams. I was like "crazy coincidence." His reply "no such thing as a coincidence".

Which just reaffirms in my fucked up brain that he and I, as always, are in sync. Fucking ALWAYS.

I know I know...you want to punch me in the face, tell me I'm retarded, or shut your ears and sing "la la la I can't hear you." Go ahead. You won't be the only ones.

April Showers Bring...Lots of Stuff

it's raining, it's pouring...

What the fuck have I been up to since you last heard from me? I mean, the last few posts have been quite the downers, eh? Even I was scaring myself...but that's what too much time on one's hands will do to a person, or so I've heard.

Events from the last few weeks:

-Attended an open mic with Remax 2 after deciding that we needed to start performing...me, some spoken word; him, guitar and sing. Turns out we hate open mics. Turns out we were much happier to have way too much bourbon at Library Bar and spill our guts til 4am. Turns out I still have feelings for Remax 2. I'm guessing most of you are smacking the sides of your heads and going "d'oh". Yea. Well.

-Met Bandaid Crush's long-distance girlfriend who was in town for a couple days. She looks like a cross between a Barbie Doll and Smurfette. I finally understand why I will never, ever be Bandaid Crush's type. And I'm totally down with that...do not want to look like Barbie Doll Smurfette. Sidenote: I love when my guy friends' girlfriends meet me...after obvs hearing about me repeatedly from their men (cuz their men adore me and can't stop talking about me, clearly) and they do that "oh, so YOU'RE the Cheese?" and look all relieved cuz I don't look like the femme fatale that's going to steal their dude away.

-Met with the Montauk girls and decided to do another 1/4 share. I WILL get on a surfboard this summer!!!

-Finagled an interview at a really hot ad agency through a Facebook friend and somehow convinced them I was cool enough to work there...lo and behold, the next day, they hired me (freelance). I had literally just gotten back to Brooklyn after another interview on a Friday morning...checked my voicemail as i was exiting the subway, to the tune of a message pleading with me to come in right away...so I got right back on the subway and headed on over! They threw me at a desk (thankfully I had my own laptop on me for some insane reason as they didn't have a computer for me yet) and said "GO". So I went. I've been there for a week. I don't even know what hit me. I work until 8pm every night. I forget to eat. I forget to think about stuff that bothers me. I just concentrate on getting through another day.

Everyone that works there is 12, and adorable. I can't imagine what they must think of me. I hightailed it to Soho this weekend to update my wardrobe a tad. Not that that's somehow going to transform my body to it's former 25 yr old self...but at least I will look a little more downtown hip and a little less "I'm an old chick stuck in some time warp circa 1986 but not in a cool way."

There's a little dog that runs around the office, he kind of owns the joint. He looks like a gremlin.

I didn't go to the gym for a week, and that made me sad. But if I keep forgetting to eat, I may not need the gym!

No Happy Endings Here

I felt your eyes on me as I walked myself to my front door and let myself in.

I turned to look at you, our eyes met, and you waved, driving away after making sure I was safely inside.

Funny, that one time you drove my friend home, she made a point of letting me know what a jerk you were for NOT waiting til she got inside before driving away.

I thought of this as I started to turn away. It made me smile. And then I cried.

It's Not Me, It's You

The dating website that I fondly like to call "crotch.com" and I are through.

I'm pretty sure that this is a permanent breakup. We've parted ways before, only for me to go crawling back with my tail between my legs, promising that this time will be different. No, really.

I can honestly say (this blog is proof) that in the last 12 months I have gone out with approximately 25 men. Most of them one-offs. Or jerk-offs, whatever the case may be.

I'm tired of getting that stupid little email everyday: "Here are your Top 10 matches that we've chosen for you", laden with men who are anything but a good match for me. I'm tired of getting emails that go like this: "U R Beautiful", from men who are half my age and cannot spell. Or emails from men who are twice my age and look like they are about to croak. I'm tired of reading one more profile that says "I like to go for long walks on the beach, and explore all that the city has to offer." Who the FUCK DOESNT LIKE LONG WALKS ON THE BEACH, I ask you? I loathe when I take the time to write a perfectly crafted note to someone, making a point of mentioning something of interest in their profile, making a silly joke, clearly I am a woman with a brain AND I'm cute...just look at my pictures! And then I see that they've viewed my profile, and moved on.

I have no idea what these assholes are looking for. I am attractive, I am funny, I am clever. I have looked at other women's profiles..thinking maybe everyone on here is a fucking model. Maybe they are all neurosurgeons, have PhDs, clearly they all have something that I don't...but in viewing other women's profiles I see that there is a wide array of females looking for love, and I am definitely in the top tier of those women, if I do say so myself.

Perhaps if I spent less time worrying about what people who don't even know me think of me, I would pay a little more attention to what is going on down here in the real world, and eventually, Mr Right will make an appearance in 3D, rather than in a little postage stamp sized picture on my 12-inch screen.

It Just Keeps Getting Better

For the last two weeks I've been feeling super crappy...like, not just regular down in the dumps from the usual bullshit of life...but awfully, horribly depressed and hyper sensitive about EVERYTHING. I realize that I don't have all that much to be horrendously excited about right now, but this was kind of out of character for me.

I then started to notice that I was feeling like I'd gained massive amounts of weight. And my boobs were KILLING me. And then my mind went to that place that no single, unemployed woman's mind should ever go.

Holy crap I think I'm pregnant.

I mean, it made perfect sense. The lethargy. The hormonalness. The mood swings. The fatness. The boob pain.

FUUUUCK.

I realized that, if that were the case, I had no way of knowing who the father was. Isn't that nice? Isn't that a GREAT thing to realize about oneself? I'm not even getting all that much action (any) these days. But let's face it, I do tend to overlap.

So we've got three contenders. Remax2. Ban, the one-night stand. And Smug, the dumper via text.

Three really, really bad options for the potential father of my child.

Yes, yes, I know that I have "choices" (smasmortion, for those of you, like me, who are Knocked Up fans). But when you're 40, and you know your child-bearing years are few and far between, you have irrational thoughts, such as "I can move back in with my parents and they'll help me out" or "Remax 2/Ban/Smug will take ownership of the little bastard, marry me, and we'll live happily ever after (again, watching too much "Knocked Up" I think)".

I mulled over all of this while trying to decide if I should buy a couple hundred home pregnancy tests.

And then, the unthinkable happened. I got my period. Very, very early. Like, 2 weeks early.

(my sister, the eternal pessimist, deadpanned "you could be having a miscarriage.")

It all made sense now. The bloating. The strange emotions. The boob pain. It never even occured to me that Aunt Flo was coming to town...seriously that bitch was way early.

So, I guess having my period twice in a month and having eternal PMS isn't the worst thing that could happen to a gal.

Where DOES the Time Go?

One thing that I definitely have not discussed in a while is my seemingly eternal unemployment situation.

I like to pretend that it's not actually happening. Although in reality it has been 3 months since I got my ass kicked to the curb.

I've noticed a very definite shift in people, including myself, since December. A lot of it has to do with the continuing decline of our economy. Back then, only a few of us had taken a tumble when the shit hit the fan...most of my friends still had jobs...and most were quite willing to help out a friend in need and offer me leads for jobs, encouragement, words of wisdom, etc.

I, myself was pretty calm and somewhat, dare I say, excited at the prospect of something new and different waiting for me. I was pretty sure that I would have a job within weeks, or at the very least, a ton of freelance options at my fingertips, and some ideas for new business ventures (pet sitting, chocolate making, cupcakes at the brooklyn flea, blogging for cash...you get the idea).

Little by little, more and more friends started to lose their jobs...we would get together and commiserate, collect ideas and suggestions from each other as to how we could go about finding employement..we found cheap places to eat at, we found the longest happy hours, we found ways to keep each other sane.

I was lucky enough to pick up some freelance here and there, but that has since dried up. All of the unemployed friends are starting to stress out. No one is excited at the idea of getting together for lunch anymore, cuz the money's running out. All of the employed friends are stressed out as well, and seem to want to stay far, far away from us unemployed pariahs, for fear of catching our "disease."

I can't say I blame them.

So how DO I spend my time, you ask? Other than dating and sleeping with most of the men in the five boroughs (well, really four, I refuse to date anyone from Staten Island...of course)?

I talk to my cats a lot. The conversations go something like this: "So Igbot, what do you think of this pair of sweatpants? What do you mean I wore them already this week? They have a hole in the crotch? Whatevs, dude, no one's looking but you. Go eat another cat treat and fuck off."

I go to the gym a lot, hence the need for the constant wearing of sweat pants. Funnily, going to the gym 2 hrs a day doesn't seem to be doing much for my weight, but i sure do have an ass of steel.

I guess the fact that I'm poor and stock pure carbs in my kitchen cupboard might possibly be interfering with my gym success. I mean, think about it. When trying to save money on groceries, what do you buy? Pasta, of course. And, in my case, pancake mix. I make a lot of pancakes. Come on over, anytime, it's like Mel's Diner over here.

I have started talking on the phone. I never used to talk on the phone before...it just wasn't my thing. Now I'm so starved for human attention that I have long conversations about absolutely nothing, just to hear another person's voice. After 2 months of $400 phone bills I realized that I had to change my phone plan. Ooops.

I also take my computer to the neighborhood coffee shop, for the very same reason. I figure, if I'm working amongst other people, it feels like going to an office, or something.

I have modeled for a friend's photo project. I have attended a funeral. I've seen some movies. I've had some interviews. I've managed to avoid almost all day drinking...to my chagrin...but I know that day drinking is asking for trouble...and all too easy to make a habit. But would make the time go so much quicker ;)

I've picked up smoking again...here and there. It used to be an "only when drinking" thing...now I'll buy a pack of cigarettes and have one while I search the internet for jobs.

(that one's gonna have to stop. SOON).

Texting is the New Post-It

I met Smug about 3 weeks ago at my favorite local bar.

Smug is ridiculously attractive in a way that was just not my type. Prematurely salt and pepper hair kept him from being too pretty, or maybe it's what made him pretty...who knows...we spent a good couple hours in the back room of my bar getting to know each others' tongues inside and out, he felt me up, we called it a night.

I had reservations about Smug from the get go. He was too "right" for me. Nice guy, smart, good job, not a fuck-up, was way too into me...yea maybe the way too into me part was what was freaking me out the most. I mean, what kind of a loser would want to date the likes of ME, right? Yea, girls are retarded. Or intuitive...

It all seemed too good to be true...this guy wanted nothing else than to be my boyfriend. For someone who has been looking for this very thing for so fucking long, I sure was finding every reason in the book to resist him...but it all seemed to be happening so fast. By date 3, he was telling me he wanted to be exclusive. I told him it was way too early to be deciding that and that we should really slow down a bit. By date 4, he was telling me things about himself that I just really didn't want to know yet...by date 5 we were having the "where is this going" conversation. He got upset with me when, prior to date 6, he was going to have to wait 5 days to see me again...he made me feel so horribly guilty for being so busy that I rearranged my entire schedule to make room for him (canceling a date with another guy in the process...because as much as I wasn't ready to be exclusive with Smug, the fact that he was seemed reason enough to dump all the other dudes). Date 6, as we laid on the couch making out, he told me he missed me. I said it back...out of obligation. Then we did it for the first time, and I learned that his hair wasn't the only thing about him that was premature.

I was definitely finding myself on the fast track to a relationship that I hadn't really signed up for. Everything about him was screaming WRONG WRONG WRONG. But I thought it was fear. I've been caught up in my obsession with Remax2 for so long...caught up in thinking I know what I want out of a guy, sticking to a certain "type" (starving artist losers with lots of facial hair and no money, for one). I wasn't feeling sparks with Smug. I wasn't feeling gaga over him. I know when I'm feeling gaga over someone...I become obsessed. When I'm with them I want to touch them 24/7, never take my eyes off them, never want to get out of bed. I want to feel their hands on ME and just devour them. Definitely wasn't feeling that with Smug. I certainly enjoyed the attention and he made me feel good. I just figured it needed time. I kept telling myself it was too soon to know. I guess if you want to believe something badly enough you will.

Date...where are we? 7? Date 7...he asked me to go over to his place as he was feeling under the weather. Which was fine...I was at Other Cheese's for brunch all day and was totally down for some low-key hanging out. I had started to loosen up a bit and allow myself to give in to the feeling of maybe being in some sort of relationship-ish situation and just see where it went.
We ordered in, snuggled on the couch, talked about "the future" and for the first time in the 3 weeks since I'd known him I felt like I could really maybe fall for this guy. I finally felt the spark, I knew that if I was patient and let myself relax and just have fun, that it would kick in. I mean how could it not? Smug is an amazing, great guy that I have been waiting to meet for a long time!

Except...not.

So...not 12 hours after I have this amazing, ground-breaking revelation, I get a text. It goes something like this:

" It was good seeing you yesterday, but I have to be very up front about something with you. I really enjoy your company but after spending some more time with you, I am feeling more of a friendship vibe between us. I am not sure that I am really feeling the spark. I know that may sound crazy since we have been physical, but sometimes I criss cross the lines of friendship and something deeper. I don't wan't to hide how I feel and I don't want to play any head games. I have been thinking about this a lot...You are a very cool person and I would love to remain friends with you if you feel the same. I need to nip this in the bud because I certainly don't want to hurt you or give you any false impression.
Ok"

I got dumped in a text.

By a guy who practically FORCED me to be his girlfriend.

Are you kidding me?

Besides the fact that this was completely unexpected, I was at a recruiter's office, filling out 43 pages of paperwork, waiting for an interview. So here I am, trying to remain composed, yet all I want to do was jump through the phone and strangle him.

I realize that his text embodies everything that I had been feeling for the last 3 weeks...I just find it curious that he starts to feel this way the MINUTE he senses that I am getting into HIM...hmmm...very curious...so I delve deeper. I tell him I am not getting dumped via text, and that I want to discuss this in person.

His answer: "I'm not free til Weds. I'll pencil you in"

Excuse me?

Now I'm livid...this asshole, who pursued me relentlessly for 3 weeks, is now dumping me, via text no less, and pencilling me in for next Weds..who are you???

I started screaming at him, if that is possible to portray screaming via cellphone keypad...I told him he was unbelievable...that I deserved a little more respect than that...that it was so curious that the minute I start falling for him he decides to pull away.

You know what his excuse is? That he is nuts.

Yes, ladies and gentleman, that was the best that he could come up with. "I'm really sorry. I have issues. I have done this in the past, and I am not going to do it again..but clearly I am nuts."

I was like "Yea, keep playing that nut card, it really seems to be working for you."

He said, "It's not you, it's me."

I said, "Go fuck yourself, eat shit and die."

I fucking KNEW something was off about him. Seriously...I am going with my gut instinct from now on. When I smell fear, I am running FAR, FAR away....and right into the arms of the nearest facial-haired, starving artist loser. At least with THEM, I would expect this type of behavior!!!

Paranoia, Big Destroyer

I realize that I might appear a little bit insane...privatizing my blog...opening it up to the public again..over and over.

Usually, you can pretty much guarantee that if I've made my blog private, it's because I've started dating someone new, and a wave of paranoia comes over me, I google myself, and discover that I am not as "anonymous" as I thought I was.

I then have to take care of the offending google entry and wait the appropriate amount of time before checking to see if it's gone.

What a fun and exciting life I lead ;)

You'll also notice that I removed quite a few blog posts from the past, involving a certain person. This is because I am a d-bag with a big, flapping mouth. Blahblahblah. I just don't know when to shut up.

Anyway, I'm back, for now. New stories on their way. I know you've been waiting :)

All For the Sake of Friendship

tSeveral weeks back I was out for a friend's Hen Party in Nolita.

I was on (surprise!) somewhat of a manhunt it seemed, finding myself chatting up dudes of all shapes and sizes at every bar that we stopped at. Although I am clearly not the bride-to-be, you would have thought that I was the one about to get hitched, as I had had way too much to drink, and was channeling Tara Reid in a big way. Stumbling, slurring, inappropriate touching. A bar fight. Possibly even a wardrobe malfunction. It wasn't pretty

As I waited to order a drink, I found myself striking up a convo with a couple of guys who were out and about having a bro bonding sesh. Turns out that one of them, Ban, had just ended a 6 yr relationship a couple weeks before, and was none too pleased about it. The other one, Korn, kept trying to give me his seat...God knows why...I mean, maybe the swaying and falling had something to do with it. Either way, Korn and Ban were good sports, letting me feel special by infringing on their bonding moment and, at one point, Ban put my number in his phone, calling me immediately after and leaving me a cute message like "hey Cheese, it's Ban, I'm calling your phone." Awww...

Korn and Ban left us, but I made Ban promise to "call me sometime". In the end, he returned to the bar to hang out with me some more. No moves were made, but after we parted for the second time, many texts were exchanged.

A couple weeks went by...a few more texts were thrown back and forth, but ultimately, nothing was progressing, so I sort of just let it go. And then, out of nowhere, he just sort of showed up again, as men are known to do.

"What are the kool kids doing tonight?" he asked early on a Friday.

I invited him to meet me out at a bday party for a couple friends. Which was pretty risque on my part, I mean, I only had an inkling of what this guy looked like...my beer goggles were in overdrive the night I met him, and for all I knew, he was a bald, toothless douchebag with serious BO.

I got to the bar that night, and kept an eye out for the interloper. I seriously hoped that he was going to be able to pick me out of a crowd cuz man, it was crowded, and I was nervous.

Well, what do you know, I had nothing to fear. Not only did I recognize him right away, and vice versa...he was HOT. Like, out of my league hot. I was starting to wonder about HIS beer goggles the night that we first met, I mean, dude, I am so not your type. I can see that from a mile away.

No worries. He was happy to see me, gave me a big hug and we sat down at a table, just sort of hanging out..He bought me many drinks...we chatted about life. We talked about his break up. He maintained that he was sort of a mess. Was just looking to make new friends (read: I'm just not that into you) and was hoping that I could be one of them.

Hoo boy. Fucking friend zone. Yay.

We decided to mosey on over to another bar, where it was a little quieter and easier to have a conversation. We toasted our new friendship and then the subject of his new singledom came up.

He said that his friends keep telling him to sign up for J Date or Match. I put my foot down on that.

"Dude, you're not ready. You need some healing time." I admonished.

"But what about casual sex? I need to at least start having casual sex!" he pleaded.

Well duh.

I kissed him.

"Are we allowed to do that?" he asked. "Is this going to hurt our friendship?"

I told him, indeed it would not, as he needed someone to break the seal for him, and who better than a friend?

I really am a pal. The best!

So...we decided that making out in the bar was getting old, and he wanted me to go back to the Upper East Side, to his $5 million dollar apartment on 5th Avenue. Me, being old, set in my ways, and wanting to go to yoga in the morning, convinced him that Brooklyn was a lot closer, and quicker in a cab.

I casually mentioned that I had..um...a cat...or maybe 2.

"Oh, I'm sort of allergic" he said. How allergic? "On a scale of 1-10, I'd say 7.5"

I reassured him that my house was dander free, and that he would be fine. "You have Benadryl, just in case?" he asked. I ran through the contents of my medicine cabinet in my head. I knew damn well I did not have Benedryl. In fact, I am allergic to Benedryl. "Of COURSE I have Benedryl," I lied through my teeth.

Seriously. I am not going to pass this up. No strings sex with a guy who is WAY out of my league who has maintained that he is NOWHERE near ready to date anyone...and he was willingly going back to Brooklyn with me...if he needed to be taken to the ER later, so be it.

So we end up back at my place, cat hair floating through the air like tumbleweeds...if you think that I've cleaned my apartment anytime in the last month or so you can think again...we hightail it to the bedroom, where, of course the cats have been sleeping...one of them spread eagled on a pillow. "Do they always hang out in here?" he asked cautiously. "No, never, bad bad cats" I shooed them out and shut the door.

Later in the night, I awoke to my new friend pulling on his clothes in a frenzy. The allergic reaction kicked in. He was itchy. He needed to escape. Now.

I watched him leap out of my front door and into the blissfully cat free air outside of it.

"Call me sometime" I yelled after him.

Everybody's Got One

Last night I attended the Bandaid Crush's birthday dinner.

I was really flattered and excited to have been invited, since I am a relatively new friend. It seemed like quite an honor to have been included. I was a little nervous, however, as I don't really know any of his other friends, as well as his ex-girlfriend was going to be there.

A little background info on Bandaid Crush...he and his live-in girlfriend of 3 yrs recently (last 3 or 4 months I think?) broke up (initiated by him) but they have remained really good friends. Additionally, he is semi-involved with a woman who lives in another city, who he met through work...but he is "just not that into her" (he's actually told me this). Lastly, there is a woman he is devastatingly obsessed with who he used to date...who he has tried to remain friends with but I guess his feelings get in the way (sound familiar? Remax2 redux!). In addition to that she went lesbo and is now dating another woman. So he's got quite a bit of lady drama swarming around him, to say the least.

Of course, I always forget these things when I am alone with him, because when it's just he and I, it's like no one else exists as far as I'm concerned.

I walked into the restaurant, a little hesitant at first, until Bandaid Crush saw me and got up to greet me, giving me a big hug and a kiss. He led me over to the table, where 8 strangers sat, staring at me, wondering who the hell I was.

I recognized his ex-girlfriend, P Diddy, right away, you know, from Facebook stalking and whatnot. She was just as adorable in person as she is in pix. She actually knew who I was (score-it means he talks about me!) and the two of us became fast friends, much to Bandaid Crush's chagrin. By the end of the night, I knew quite a few secrets about him that I'm sure he could have lived without me knowing.

I introduced myself to the rest of the table and settled in for the night. I happened to be sitting next to Bandaid Crush but I noticed right off the bat that he was spending a lot of time with his head turned in the opposite direction, and then finally, he just got up and moved to the end of the table, where he was completely mesmerized by whoever or whatever was going on.

I sort of felt insulted, not that I should have..I mean, I was not there as his date, and it wasn't just me he was ignoring...he was ignoring the ENTIRE TABLE of birthday goers, and no one seemed disturbed by it, so I let it go and buddied up with his ex and flirted with his cute friends.

He did eventually come back to his seat next to me, but his attentions were definitely somewhere else...I couldn't really put my finger on it, because the only people sitting on the other side of him were these two women, both named Dr Han, who arrived together..

And then it dawned on me. One of the Dr Hans was his Remax2!

I didn't even realize that he was still that good of friends with her that she would have come to his bday party. And it didn't even register that the "friend" that she arrived with was her lover, the other Dr Han. What really gave it away was, his behavior reminded me of ME...I flashbacked to a couple Sundays ago when I had some friends over for the Superbowl. Remax2 arrived, and it was like nobody else was sitting there in my apartment eating my 7 Layer Dip and watching my tv...including Bandaid Crush! I completely ignored the entire room of people and stood in my kitchen with Remax2, hanging on his every word, making him drinks, making goo goo eyes at him.

It was hilarious to say the least, but once I had this epiphany during dinner, everything clicked into place, I could relax and really enjoy the rest of the night, knowing that Bandaid Crush was too far gone to rescue from himself, and my only function in his life at this moment was that of a new friend and nothing more.

At the end of the night, he and I took the train home together and he could not WAIT to get my opinion..."That was her! That was my Remax2!" he gushed.

Poor guy. I hope he knows what he's in for. Because having a Remax2 is really nothing to brag about.

Life

Today's one of those days that I just can't get motivated for.

I woke up this morning, and realized that I'd finally kicked this 2-week long flu/cold/plague that I'd had..but that it was replaced with a migraine and feeling of nausea.

The migraine and feeling of nausea may stem from finding out that one of my relatives is dying. Well I knew he was dying, but now he has an actual death sentence.

I can't even imagine how it feels to be told that one has 2 months to live. How do you take that? What goes through your head when someone tells you this?

I always said that if I was dying of something I wouldn't want to know, because it would be better to just drop dead one day so that I could live my life normally...knowing me I'd spend my last waking moments obsessing about my own death.

Or would I? Maybe I would actually do all the things that I keep saying I'm going to do. Maybe I would make my life worth living somehow. I'd write that stupid memoir....do something meaningful to help others...enjoy every minute I was on this earth with no regrets. Make amends with people who I wronged or who wronged me. Eat a LOT of fucking chocolate. Fuck a lot of guys. A LOT. Without condoms. Tell the people I love that I love them, all the time.

Maybe I'll just do all that anyway. I mean, I could be dying. It's not like anyone is going to tell me!

Oops I Did it Again

Well, by now you know me pretty well...and you know that I am incapable of keeping things simple.

Wouldn't you know it, I have ALREADY disassembled the Can't Have Ya Trifecta. I should never be allowed to have nice things! I don't take care of them!!

Remax2 came over for our "photo shoot" on Tuesday night...with a bottle of bourbon in tow. I was nervous as fuck..I wasn't really sure what he had in mind as far as what he wanted me to do. All I knew was that there was going to be nudity involved.
I wasn't so much worried about being nude in front of him..it's more the having to see the end result..I'm not too keen on having my picture taken, much less naked pictures taken, without a lot of good lighting and retouching!!

Turns out he wanted to see me in outfits. Of course, he's a guy. Guys are all about the outfits. So we picked out some stuff...it was kind of hilarious, actually. Being able to get inside the mind of a horny guy. He nicely informed me that the top I was wearing "wasn't doing anything for him." I was aghast and agape...that was my fallback date top! But apparently, nope, not a good look.

So...we changed my top. And we dragged my mattress into the living room and threw a white sheet over it...he wanted some sort of gritty downtown thing going on, with my brick wall in the background. I just went with it. Who am I to argue with the artiste?

We started out very innocent..as he calls them, "family style" shots. If you consider a black tank top, mini skirt hiked up to "here" and thigh high socks "family style". It was easier to pose than I thought, of course, the more bourbon I drank the more flirty and comfortable I became...but he was also really egging me on, telling me how sexy I am, pretty much adoring me with his eyes and his camera. I could sort of get addicted to this! Imagine that on my list of "interests": posing for erotica.

I was trying my hardest to keep things platonic and friendly--I mean, as much as you possibly can while you're all laid out on a mattress with your ass hanging out of a pair of boy shorts and the man you might be in love with is telling you how hot you are--every once in a while he would come over and adjust my hair, my bra strap..the brushing of his hand against my skin felt like I was being set on fire.

But when I needed to change outfits, I would employ a modicum of modesty and retreat to the bedroom to change in private. That shows that I was being respectful of our friendship, right?

The last outfit I was wearing, I seem to recall, was a brown mesh top with no bra underneath and booty shorts. I guess one can't really achieve a modicum of modesty in that outfit, but whatever...I went into the bedroom to find something else, and he followed me, and I don't know who started what, but all of a sudden there was kissing, lots of kissing, in the doorway of my bedroom.

"Are you ok with this?" I stupidly had to ask. I mean duh. Yea, he was ok with it. He was probably planning it since the beginning of time!

He said he was, but asked if I was, and then I sat him down and had "the talk". I figured, now is as good a time as any.

So I told him that I really liked our friendship, and that he was a way better friend than I ever imagined he could be, but I also had feelings for him and if there was any chance we could date, that would be great too.

And then he dropped the axe: "I only feel friendship for you."

Except he then proceeded to suck the lips off of my face. Hard. I mean, I guess I can't blame the guy...I was wearing a see through mesh top and all..and to prove even further that he only feels friendship for me, he proceeded to remove said mesh top and ravage me from top to bottom for several hours, and with a short slumber break, continue on through the morning.

With friends like him, who needs other friends?

So, the Can't Have Ya Trifecta has now been tainted. As for my good reputation, that has also been tainted. As for my friendship with Remax2, only time will tell.

A New Era?

I sat at home and watched the Inauguration today, and I wanted so badly to feel hopeful and positive.
Friends of mine went down to DC to see it live and in person...other friends had brunches to commemorate the occasion.
I sat at home and watched, in my pajamas, barely getting out of bed to do so. Not because I'm a hater, or because I don't believe.

But at the moment, I just don't fucking feel it.

I'm really excited about the fact that 8 yrs of shit is finally getting put to rest. That we have a President that I can relate to, that is a hundred years in the making, that is a fucking rockstar, and most importantly, seems like he's going to get shit done.

But the fact of the matter is that, the last 12 months have been kinda shite. And I don't see a light at the end of the tunnel. And as much as I want to believe that Barack Obama is going to be my saviour, the man isn't Jesus, and I don't feel all that hopeful.

I hope to God I hope to God I hope to God I'm wrong.

Functional Dysfunction

As much as I have about 8 million topics that I need to discuss with all of you, in light of the fact that I've been gone yet AGAIN for so long...I thought it was time to address my latest man situation, or lack thereof.

I have set up a sweet little deal for myself, that I like to call the "Can't Have Ya Trifecta".

It is made up of two recurring players in my life, Remax2, and Tall Guy (bet you forgot about HIM, eh?) and a new candidate who we will call the Bandaid Crush.

The deal is this...I don't have sex with any of these dudes, but in some form or another I have romantic feelings for them (none of them knows this, I don't think) and I just keep them around as friends. It's a win-win situation. They stick around, I never have to worry about being rejected, and I get to actually spend quality-time with them stress (albeit sex) free.

It's a weird little defense mechanism but it seems to be working. And the best part is, when one or two of 'em stages a disappearing act once in a while (which they always do. boys will be boys!) there's always a third one to keep me company in the meantime! It's a brilliant little plan!

Of course, it's highly dysfunctional on so many levels...for example, these are the kinds of conversations that Tall Guy and I have on a regular basis:

Him: "I've been dreaming about that hot little ass of yours. GOD I want that ass. So did you find a job yet?"
Me: "When am I going to finally get to sit on that giant cock of yours? Eh, still working on my resume."
Him: "Fuck me. Please."

We have been known to have such conversations for several hours, long into the night, when one of us should have just gotten in a cab and been at the other's door, for fuck's sake. But I think the beauty of our little arrangement is that we can keep this going pretty much until one of us gets sick of it...and so far, nobody seems to, so.

Remax2 has been doing a good job of keeping up his end of the friend bargain. I'm pretty impressed with his persistence and consistence. Um..but we're going out and getting drunk tomorrow night, to prepare for a nude photo shoot that we've been planning for months. Cuz I can't just have, like, a NORMAL relationship with the guy, that would just be too weird. Ha.

Bandaid Crush is a recent development, we met a couple months ago and I sucked him into my dysfunction, poor guy. He's new to the city new to the single world and I am merely showing him the ways of the land. So far, he's been my the most consistent out of all the members of my Bizarre Love Triangle...probably because he hasn't caught onto my insanity yet.

So there you have it, you've been invited to get a glimpse inside the mind of a genius. We'll see how long I keep this going before I want to either poke my eyes out, jump off a cliff, or at the very least, smash my vibrator against the wall.

Another One Bites the Dust

A little-known fact about my life at the moment: Mysterious Guy and I have been seeing each other a little bit more than I have let on. Actually, although it was nowhere near exclusive, he and I have been in constant contact since before Halloween, and as much as I have decided about 400 times since then that I was going to end it, for some reason unbeknownst to myself and the gods of fate, I have allowed the relationship, as it were, to continue.

I always knew from day 1 that Mysterious Guy was never going to turn into anything major. There's always been an attraction between us, and I find him quite fascinating at times. He's brilliantly smart and has a dry sense of humor that, once I caught on to it, I rather enjoyed.

However, there are a million and one things that make him absolutely wrong for me. Let's see, there's his severe depression...that sometimes prohibit him from making simple plans, and that also prompt him to cancel plans at a moment's notice. There's his neo-con status...he's a gun-loving Obama-hater who doesn't believe in gay marriage. And he's obsessed with this. Like, to the point where it really freaks me out.

His social awkwardness was bad enough that i would never be able to introduce him to other friends...let's examine some of his finer moments:

-Upon telling him that my sister did not have breast cancer, his reaction was "That's good. Cancer's a real downer."
-His response to an email I sent him telling him I was free that night, if he was feeling spontaneous: "Calm down girl and take a cold shower. I'm in for the night."
-After not seeing each other for a few weeks, instead of greeting me with a hug, or a kiss, or anything resembling a sign of affection, he thought it necessary to tell me that I have really big teeth, and that he had never noticed them before.
-Before I ever met him (over 2 months ago) one of his cats had an accident on his bed, wherein he needed to dispose of the mattress and all his bedding. He has since been sleeping in a sleeping bag on his couch, and has no intention of purchasing a new bed, or bedding. And therefore is not capable of "entertaining" at his apartment. Or so he says.

Each and everytime, I am convinced that I am done, done, onto the next one. But something kept me there, whether it was that feeling of "well, it's better than being totally alone" or our insane physical chemistry, or what.

But tonight was definitely the last straw.

We had made tentative plans to meet at a local bar after I got out of a Sunday afternoon movie. I called to let him know I was heading to the bar, and he launched into one of his insane, paranoid rants. I told him he was a buzzkill and he should just get his ass over to the bar and have a drink before he spontaneously combusted. To which he started spewing more paranoid conspiracy shit...out of the blue...unsolicited...and a little creepy. My stomach started to hurt and I got that feeling of dread one gets when something doesn't feel quite right. He sounded insane.

I got really quiet. And he continued on with his rant. When it was over, he laughed, and turned into his normal self again...asking me if I instead wanted to come over to his place.

I had already started walking in the opposite direction, actually I think I might have been running, fast, somehow trying to outrun the creepy conversation that was following me no matter how hard I tried to get away from it. I told him it would be better if I just went home. He didn't sound surprised. He didn't try to talk me out of it. In fact, I think he might have ended the conversation with "next time you see the Chase logo, notice that it has a subliminal swastika in it. "

I thanked him for "enlightening" me yet again and hung up the phone. And removed his # from my contact list.

I am a lonely and crazy magnet. Does this mean that I, too, am lonely and crazy? I am beginning to wonder...