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.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Saturday, March 28, 2009
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.
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
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).
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).
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
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!!!
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!!!
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