Aught-nine was fraught with naughtiness, much of which I have neglected to discuss for a variety of reasons.
This is definitely late in coming, but what better way to start a new year than to take a look back at the Men of 2009. Some of whom you don't even know about yet! Yes, I've been very, very bad, keeping secrets from you all...but honestly I've been more concerned with my job situation than anything else...but I think it's time to go back in time and see who made the cut, who didn't, who was the biggest asshole, and who broke my heart. Oh if only I could make a calendar of the Men of 2009!
Remax2
At the top of the list we have Remax2, who probably played the biggest role in my blog this year. Beginning with this very confusing and conflicting situation at the beginning of 2009. I spent many, many months misreading his signs, wishing, waiting, hoping...which erupted into a horrible late night drunken screamfest one night. It almost ended our relationship, but somehow, we talked it out, and since then, we have been purely platonic and Best Friends Forever. It blows my mind when I think about the feelings that I thought I had for him, but upon further investigation I truly believe I was avoiding the inevitable, ie, having to meet a real person and have a real relationship. Remax2 was my fantasy, but our friendship is a way better reality then the fantasy ever could have been.
Fake Remax2
One day I received an email on crotch.com from a Remax2 doppelganger and I, of course, thought it would be a GREAT fucking idea to go out with him and "replace" Remax2. We met at a bar in between our two neighborhoods and he was quite adorable. Our chemistry was obvious and before I knew it he was grabbing my face in his hands and kissing me passionately right there in the middle of Classon Avenue on a freezing January evening. I told him I wanted to take things slow, somehow he ended up coming home with me--we practically ran the 15 or so blocks to my apartment, partly from the cold, partly so we could make out some more. I remember there was a hand job involved, and he wore tighty whiteys.
Smug
I also met Smug on crotch.com and he wanted to make me his girlfriend from the minute we said hello. I was hesitant to jump into something so quickly but ultimately found myself putting aside my fears and letting things just happen. Shortly thereafter, Smug broke up with me in a text message, stating that he was just crazy. I decided to agree with him, drank half a bottle of bourbon, and moved on.
Shithead Ban (this is what he is listed as in my cell phone)
I met Shithead Ban at a bar one night while out with my friends for a Hen Party. We exchanged phone numbers and, surprisingly, he did call me one night in an attempt to get together. I had him meet me at a friend's bday party where I managed to seduce him and lure him back to my apartment although he claimed he was allergic to cats. Why HE is the shithead I will never understand, since I was the asshole that lied and deceived him in order for cheap sex. What you all DONT know is that I saw him one night a few months later while trolling on crotch.com (that damned site again...thankfully I have abandoned this venue for good) and he came across as SUCH a tool. I considered myself lucky that I had dodged a bullet, sent him a message wishing him luck with his dating endeavors, and then blocked him so I wouldn't have to see his smug, toolish face in my search results ever again!
Tall Guy
The first time I met Tall Guy he told me he could never date me because I was too short, and then we spent the rest of the date making out.
There were a few other dates after that, but he really wasn't kidding, he was super self-conscious about our height difference. (He is 15 inches taller than me).
The problem was, we really liked each other, and often after nights of drinking we would end up on the phone until 3am, talking and pretending we were going to hook up, but never actually doing anything about it.
One night, I was out with a friend, and I texted him to say hi, and as luck would have it, he was in Brooklyn, not far from me. Next thing I knew, friend was ditched, and I was waiting outside a divey bar for the Tall Guy, not really knowing what was going to happen next.
Thankfully, I found out soon enough, and I was certainly not disappointed. Let's just say that what they say about size, it's all true.
The next morning he didn't bolt like I thought he would, wanting to take me to breakfast and then lingering for hours, walking around the neighborhood and finding all sorts of excuses to not leave. Finally letting him get on the subway felt bittersweet to me, because I just knew that he was going to remember his height issues and that was going to be that...for almost a split second after receiving a really sweet email from him suggesting that we get together again, I was hopeful. But, as I figured...he moved on to search for a 6 foot amazon princess that wouldn't make him feel like such a giant.
So that's the first six months of 2009. Stay tuned for Part II, which will be posted shortly!
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Tuesday, January 05, 2010
Unenjoyment 2010
As I write this I can't even believe that this has become my life. A year of hope for better things has pretty much turned into total despair with the arrival of the new year.
Today I spent 20 minutes waiting for a Dept of Labor person to get on the phone and explain to me why my benefits have expired, and why I'm not eligible for the new extension. I have so many questions that nobody seems capable of answering, and that the FAQs portion of the Unemployment website does not cover. My situation is complicated. I freelance, plus I was penalized for a stupid move I made over the spring. I have not actually received unemployment benefits since July. Basically forcing me to spend the last six months being a "slutty cowgirl" when there were absolutely no funds coming in. I have since paid my penalty, which would make me eligible for benefits again, no?
Which is why I called the Dept of Labor, and waited for 20 fucking minutes. I want someone to explain to me what my rights are, what I'm entitled to, what I have to look forward to. Because as much as $1600/week ain't much, it's better than nothing.
I finally got a dude on the line who I could barely understand. If there is an accent that sounds like marbles, then he had it. He could only speak to me at an elevated decibel, bordering on yelling, and spent a good ten minutes berating me. I'm not exactly sure why he was berating me, as his marble accent deterred me from understanding him completely, but I felt like I was talking to my dad circa 1986. It made me cry.
And, of course, when the call was over I still had no answers.
I'm stupidly putting off a visit to the Dept of Labor headquarters. The idea of standing on a line for an entire day in the hopes that I can speak to a person with half a brain is just too much for me to deal with. But I guess it must be done.
Full-time jobs are still few and far between. I was lucky enough to have a good 3 month streak of work at the end of last year, but I'm not confident that I will find more anytime soon. So my new obsession is thinking of things that I am passionate about that could translate into some sort of job. In no particular order, here is what I've come up with: sex worker, burlesque dancer, food taster, cocktail waitress, or mattress tester.
Of course, I could just give in and find a sugar daddy for once and for all.
Today I spent 20 minutes waiting for a Dept of Labor person to get on the phone and explain to me why my benefits have expired, and why I'm not eligible for the new extension. I have so many questions that nobody seems capable of answering, and that the FAQs portion of the Unemployment website does not cover. My situation is complicated. I freelance, plus I was penalized for a stupid move I made over the spring. I have not actually received unemployment benefits since July. Basically forcing me to spend the last six months being a "slutty cowgirl" when there were absolutely no funds coming in. I have since paid my penalty, which would make me eligible for benefits again, no?
Which is why I called the Dept of Labor, and waited for 20 fucking minutes. I want someone to explain to me what my rights are, what I'm entitled to, what I have to look forward to. Because as much as $1600/week ain't much, it's better than nothing.
I finally got a dude on the line who I could barely understand. If there is an accent that sounds like marbles, then he had it. He could only speak to me at an elevated decibel, bordering on yelling, and spent a good ten minutes berating me. I'm not exactly sure why he was berating me, as his marble accent deterred me from understanding him completely, but I felt like I was talking to my dad circa 1986. It made me cry.
And, of course, when the call was over I still had no answers.
I'm stupidly putting off a visit to the Dept of Labor headquarters. The idea of standing on a line for an entire day in the hopes that I can speak to a person with half a brain is just too much for me to deal with. But I guess it must be done.
Full-time jobs are still few and far between. I was lucky enough to have a good 3 month streak of work at the end of last year, but I'm not confident that I will find more anytime soon. So my new obsession is thinking of things that I am passionate about that could translate into some sort of job. In no particular order, here is what I've come up with: sex worker, burlesque dancer, food taster, cocktail waitress, or mattress tester.
Of course, I could just give in and find a sugar daddy for once and for all.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
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 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.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
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...
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...
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
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.
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.
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