Forgive me readers, for I have neglected you all and left you in suspense...the Men of 2009 has left you dangling and waiting for more. Never fear, because you knew that I wouldn't let you down...there is PLENTY more to discuss.
Truffle Man
Truffle Man was the very last guy from crotch.com that I went out with. I decided that no matter how it panned out, crotch.com, perv.com, and the rest of the douchebaggy dating sites were getting thrown out the window. I really enjoyed Truffle Man's company, we had a lot of things in common, but I didn't feel any attraction to him. I thought that a third date would perhaps be the deal-breaker for me, and we tried several times to make the third date happen, but he was having some family issues (very ill twin brother) that were keeping him from being able to make plans, so I took that as a sign.
I actually sometimes think about him and want to send him a friendly email to see how his brother is, but that would probably be weird and misconstrued. So..moving on.
LA Dude
Strewn throughout most of this time period was an ongoing correspondence with a very insane and nutty, but lovable fella.
One random nondescript day sometime in the Spring, I received a Facebook friend request from a guy in LA that I did not know. Moments later, an email landed in my inbox from a friend of mine, to me, with the LA guy copied on it...trying to "set us up". I'm guessing that he probably saw my picture, inquired about me, and next thing we knew, we were on some weird Facebook blind date! I didn't think anything of it, after checking out his profile and deciding he was cute and harmless (and lived 3000 miles away, so really, in the grand scheme of things, who gives a crap anyway?) Little did I know how all of those things were so incredibly WRONG.
So, we exchanged a few emails. At one point he told me he was coming to NY for a work thing, sometime over the summer. Again, didn't think much of it, sort of tossed out a "cool, let's have a drink when you do." And never gave it a second thought.
Somehow, we started following each other on Twitter...and that's kind of where the magic happened...how somebody manages to find love on Twitter I'll never know, but I, of course, managed to do it.
First, the DMs. That moved on to texts. Texts turned into phone calls. Late night phone calls that went on for hours. Phone calls turned into sending each other silly photo texts...and now I'm starting to learn he wasn't cute at all (he was gorgeous) and he was kind of not harmless (in fact, a bit of a heartbreaker and dirty, oh so DIRTY). Photo texts turned into webcam chats, and then he books his trip to NY and before I know what's happening he is on a plane and headed to Brooklyn, for a week.
I waited for his arrival in my local bar, nervous as all get out. I mean, for fuck's sake, we spent 3 months talking and texting and webcamming and we knew some pretty intimate things about each other, and I knew I found him attractive and vice versa, but in person, who knew? The risk of disappointment when I put myself in these insane situations is SO high. But I had a gut feeling, and I went with it.
He walked into the bar and we literally started making out right there on the table. I think the patrons and bartender barfed in their mouths a little. The chemistry was pretty instantaneous, and for a week or so, we pretended we were a couple and madly in love, and it was probably one of the funnest weeks I've had in my adult life.
(at the end of the week he magically transformed from Prince Charming back to a frog, but I choose to omit that from my memory because, you know, I enjoy living in a fantasy world, obvs).
Birthday Present
I met Birthday Present a few years ago right after my ex and I split. He was yet another too young guy and at the time I was going to eat the heads off of any guy who came anywhere near me. And forget about the young ones. I swore off those FOREVER....well it turned out that Birthday Present had an on-again off-again girlfriend so our mutual curiosity of each other morphed into a friendship. But throughout the friendship, I was still curious. And he was cute.
Friends of ours used to comment on our chemistry, and we would just brush it off or laugh and do the whole "oh we're just friends" dance. But sometimes friends know us better than we know ourselves, I think.
This past summer, I had a birthday party at a bar a few blocks from my apartment, and Birthday Present was one of the attendees. I was never 100% sure when he was on or off with the girlfriend, but I'm hoping that he was off that night because, well, I fucked him.
Oops.
Let's just say the mutual curiosity was definitely peaked after that, and I gave myself multiple birthday presents that night, and for several months afterwards. In fact, I am still receiving the Birthday Present :)
So, I guess you'll have to stay tuned for what happens next, cuz your guess is as good as mine!!
Showing posts with label douchebags I date. Show all posts
Showing posts with label douchebags I date. Show all posts
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
The Men of 2009/Part I
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!
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, 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!!!
Friday, December 26, 2008
All I Want for Christmas is a Restraining Order
As I mentioned in my last post, I had a date lined up with a guy called Psych Ward.
Susan commented that she was a little concerned about his name....which made me chuckle a little to myself. You see, the reason I named him Psych Ward is because of his profession. However, Susan is a smart cookie, and had reason to be worried, as I will illustrate for you now.
Psych Ward and I had plans to meet up at my favorite bar (note to everyone, do NOT take a first-time date to your favorite bar-a) you don't want your beloved bartenders to think you're actually WITH this person and b) your favorite bar will never, ever be safe again, since said person now knows where you hang out and can stalk you). Psych Ward is very attractive, which I think he spends most of his life using to his advantage. He seemed disheveled, but I cut him some slack as it was snowing out and he had commuted in from LI. Fair enough.
He did, however, reek heavily of Marlboro Reds, and everytime he went to the bathroom he would come back smelling like he had rolled around in an ashtray. I finally asked him if he was smoking in the bathroom, to which he gave me a boyish grin and admitted that indeed, he was.
He then proceeded to down several beers chased with shots of JD. One, two, three went down his gullet. The date was only an hour in and he was wasted and I was bored.
He suddenly became an octopus of gigantic proportions...all eight of his hands were groping at me while we sat at the bar. I kept shoving him off of me and actually told him right out that i didn't feel a love connection so I did not want him touching me. He retreated like a naughty puppy being punished for pooping in the house, but then five minutes later it was as if he'd completely forgotten about our previous conversation and started groping me all over again.
Marlboro tinged kisses kept coming my way. I kept telling him I did not want to kiss him. Why I stayed I have no idea. I don't know if it was because it was Saturday night and I didn't want to slink home at 9pm with my tail between my legs...or because I felt bad that he had taken the LIRR in just to meet me in the snow, or if he was just that pathetic that I didn't have the heart to just leave...so stupidly, I joined him in his intoxication and somehow the night was weirdly salvaged.
That is NOT to say that I was going to ever go out with him again.
I knew he was going to call...and I figured when he did I would let him know that I had a nice time but I didn't think we were a match...so sorry....best of luck...blah blah blah. Like any normal person would do, I have manners, I'm not a bitch.
He didn't call for several days, and I thought I might be off the hook...and then, there it was, the voicemail I'd been dreading.
"I want to take you out again. This weekend."
No, no no no all sorts of HELL NO.
I fully admit that I avoided calling him back, but in all fairness, it's Christmas week, and it's busy.
Yesterday, Christmas Day, he sent me several emails, and called me SEVEN times. The messages he left were so long that my voicemail was cutting him off. I have to wonder how long he still rambled before realizing he was talking to thin air. He accused me of screening my calls. He diagnosed himself on my voice mail. He diagnosed ME on my voicemail (apparently I have self-esteem issues). He gave me all the reasons why we should be together. He tried to get me jealous by telling me he was being pursued by another woman. He told me I was a bullshitter. He cursed, cajoled, pleaded, analyzed. It was horrifying and entertaining all at once. I didn't know whether to laugh or call the cops.
It never even occurred to him that it was Christmas, and the reason that I hadn't picked up my phone was because I was spending the day with my family. It was like that episode of Seinfeld, where George leaves 500 messages on his date's machine, getting more and more angry that she's not calling him back, and it turns out that she had been away for the weekend and never checked her messages.
Except that was a really funny episode.
Susan commented that she was a little concerned about his name....which made me chuckle a little to myself. You see, the reason I named him Psych Ward is because of his profession. However, Susan is a smart cookie, and had reason to be worried, as I will illustrate for you now.
Psych Ward and I had plans to meet up at my favorite bar (note to everyone, do NOT take a first-time date to your favorite bar-a) you don't want your beloved bartenders to think you're actually WITH this person and b) your favorite bar will never, ever be safe again, since said person now knows where you hang out and can stalk you). Psych Ward is very attractive, which I think he spends most of his life using to his advantage. He seemed disheveled, but I cut him some slack as it was snowing out and he had commuted in from LI. Fair enough.
He did, however, reek heavily of Marlboro Reds, and everytime he went to the bathroom he would come back smelling like he had rolled around in an ashtray. I finally asked him if he was smoking in the bathroom, to which he gave me a boyish grin and admitted that indeed, he was.
He then proceeded to down several beers chased with shots of JD. One, two, three went down his gullet. The date was only an hour in and he was wasted and I was bored.
He suddenly became an octopus of gigantic proportions...all eight of his hands were groping at me while we sat at the bar. I kept shoving him off of me and actually told him right out that i didn't feel a love connection so I did not want him touching me. He retreated like a naughty puppy being punished for pooping in the house, but then five minutes later it was as if he'd completely forgotten about our previous conversation and started groping me all over again.
Marlboro tinged kisses kept coming my way. I kept telling him I did not want to kiss him. Why I stayed I have no idea. I don't know if it was because it was Saturday night and I didn't want to slink home at 9pm with my tail between my legs...or because I felt bad that he had taken the LIRR in just to meet me in the snow, or if he was just that pathetic that I didn't have the heart to just leave...so stupidly, I joined him in his intoxication and somehow the night was weirdly salvaged.
That is NOT to say that I was going to ever go out with him again.
I knew he was going to call...and I figured when he did I would let him know that I had a nice time but I didn't think we were a match...so sorry....best of luck...blah blah blah. Like any normal person would do, I have manners, I'm not a bitch.
He didn't call for several days, and I thought I might be off the hook...and then, there it was, the voicemail I'd been dreading.
"I want to take you out again. This weekend."
No, no no no all sorts of HELL NO.
I fully admit that I avoided calling him back, but in all fairness, it's Christmas week, and it's busy.
Yesterday, Christmas Day, he sent me several emails, and called me SEVEN times. The messages he left were so long that my voicemail was cutting him off. I have to wonder how long he still rambled before realizing he was talking to thin air. He accused me of screening my calls. He diagnosed himself on my voice mail. He diagnosed ME on my voicemail (apparently I have self-esteem issues). He gave me all the reasons why we should be together. He tried to get me jealous by telling me he was being pursued by another woman. He told me I was a bullshitter. He cursed, cajoled, pleaded, analyzed. It was horrifying and entertaining all at once. I didn't know whether to laugh or call the cops.
It never even occurred to him that it was Christmas, and the reason that I hadn't picked up my phone was because I was spending the day with my family. It was like that episode of Seinfeld, where George leaves 500 messages on his date's machine, getting more and more angry that she's not calling him back, and it turns out that she had been away for the weekend and never checked her messages.
Except that was a really funny episode.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Tall Tales
Tall Guy and I went out again on Saturday night.
I wasn't all that surprised that he wanted to go out with me again, I mean, I'm pretty amazing. And our makeout sesh was pretty intense. But ultimately, I knew that there were still issues at hand and that I didn't have much of an argument..I mean, unless I go out and buy some stilts, there's still a foot and a half difference in our heights.
Which, godammit, is so not a big deal to me!
I made him come to Brooklyn because I had been out pumpkin picking all day upstate and I was tired...in fact, I could have just as easily stayed home, but he seemed adamant that he really wanted to hang out again and who am I to say no?
So, I watched him down a shitload of beer. Cuz the guy can drink. I mean, he's really tall. 5 beers in and I'm still sipping my second vodka tonic, and I'm feeling myself getting wasted by the second, while he's staying relatively sober. And the subject of the height thing comes up AGAIN. I wouldn't let him get away with it as an excuse. I was like, "Tell me you don't like me (which you can't) tell me you're not attracted to me (which you are) but for the love of God do NOT tell me I am too short." It doesn't make any sense. To me. Then again, I'm not the one walking around with a 79 inch frame.
I finally decided that he just has issues, period, and told him as much. He didn't disagree with me. So I think we decided to just be friends. Except that he came home with me. And stayed the night. And stayed the morning. And we didn't act like friends, at least not the friends that I generally keep around (ok there's a few of you out there. shut up).
Especially since he spent a lot of time telling me how "different" I am...how he has never met anyone like me...so give the midget a chance, dude!
So I dunno. I hadn't heard from him all week, so I sent him a little email today...I don't even know what the purpose was...I guess to remind him I'm alive? I'm kind of at the point where I don't want to remind someone I'm alive anymore. I want to be chased. Just a little. No more chasing for me.
I've got two different thoughts going through my head. One is that I need to just walk away from this, if he is able to get past his shit, he'll let me know. But then my other thought is the one that is going to end up being the death of me...it goes something like this: "he needs to know how great you are. you need to remind him of how great you are, often, so that he will know that he will be missing out on something if he lets you go."
Yea, forcing someone to like you is one of my strong points, but in the end, never fruitful, and always painful.
He did call. And said something about having to go away over the weekend. So I said "Have fun" and he said "but. I'll talk to you before that."
Oh?
it's already Weds.
Whatever. I'm not holding my breath. I'm trying NOT to hold my breath.
Meanwhile...there's a perfectly nice guy who keeps calling. And I'm just not calling back. I can't call back...I don't have it in me. He might be the love of my life for all I know and I just don't care right now.
And Remax2 and I are supposed to go biking this weekend. He just called to confirm. Fucking Remax2. I would have killed to have that fuckwad pick up the phone and call me a month ago.
Life. Weird, shitty, freaky life.
I wasn't all that surprised that he wanted to go out with me again, I mean, I'm pretty amazing. And our makeout sesh was pretty intense. But ultimately, I knew that there were still issues at hand and that I didn't have much of an argument..I mean, unless I go out and buy some stilts, there's still a foot and a half difference in our heights.
Which, godammit, is so not a big deal to me!
I made him come to Brooklyn because I had been out pumpkin picking all day upstate and I was tired...in fact, I could have just as easily stayed home, but he seemed adamant that he really wanted to hang out again and who am I to say no?
So, I watched him down a shitload of beer. Cuz the guy can drink. I mean, he's really tall. 5 beers in and I'm still sipping my second vodka tonic, and I'm feeling myself getting wasted by the second, while he's staying relatively sober. And the subject of the height thing comes up AGAIN. I wouldn't let him get away with it as an excuse. I was like, "Tell me you don't like me (which you can't) tell me you're not attracted to me (which you are) but for the love of God do NOT tell me I am too short." It doesn't make any sense. To me. Then again, I'm not the one walking around with a 79 inch frame.
I finally decided that he just has issues, period, and told him as much. He didn't disagree with me. So I think we decided to just be friends. Except that he came home with me. And stayed the night. And stayed the morning. And we didn't act like friends, at least not the friends that I generally keep around (ok there's a few of you out there. shut up).
Especially since he spent a lot of time telling me how "different" I am...how he has never met anyone like me...so give the midget a chance, dude!
So I dunno. I hadn't heard from him all week, so I sent him a little email today...I don't even know what the purpose was...I guess to remind him I'm alive? I'm kind of at the point where I don't want to remind someone I'm alive anymore. I want to be chased. Just a little. No more chasing for me.
I've got two different thoughts going through my head. One is that I need to just walk away from this, if he is able to get past his shit, he'll let me know. But then my other thought is the one that is going to end up being the death of me...it goes something like this: "he needs to know how great you are. you need to remind him of how great you are, often, so that he will know that he will be missing out on something if he lets you go."
Yea, forcing someone to like you is one of my strong points, but in the end, never fruitful, and always painful.
He did call. And said something about having to go away over the weekend. So I said "Have fun" and he said "but. I'll talk to you before that."
Oh?
it's already Weds.
Whatever. I'm not holding my breath. I'm trying NOT to hold my breath.
Meanwhile...there's a perfectly nice guy who keeps calling. And I'm just not calling back. I can't call back...I don't have it in me. He might be the love of my life for all I know and I just don't care right now.
And Remax2 and I are supposed to go biking this weekend. He just called to confirm. Fucking Remax2. I would have killed to have that fuckwad pick up the phone and call me a month ago.
Life. Weird, shitty, freaky life.
Monday, October 13, 2008
You've Got Mail
As you may recall, a few months back my douchebag ex dumped one of our cats back in my lap. I couldn't have been happier to have Bong back, but having to have Douchebag back in my life, even for a mere 10 minutes, was traumatizing at best.
Douchebag texted me a couple weeks ago saying that he could come by one Saturday and bring over a box of record albums that he still had of mine, and pick up a box of stuff that snuck its way into my storage unit all those years ago.
I wasn't thrilled at the prospect of seeing him, yet again, but the thought of having all of my childhood records back - The Monkees, Captain and Tanille, The Osmonds and Shaun Cassidy, to name a few-was thrilling enough that I figured I could endure another 10 minutes with him.
I'm going to spare you all the agony of hearing about our second reunion, because really, how much hatred can one girl spew on her blog? I'm a lover, not a fighter...however, what I'm here to tell you is about what I found in that box of record albums.
It sat on the floor of my bedroom for a week, because I'm lazy like that...and I don't have anywhere to put a stack of records at the moment, so in the box they remained. Until I decided to have a cleaning frenzy and opened up the Pandora's box that lay at the foot of my bed.
Inside, I was greeted with 2 years worth of my mail.
Magazines, Christmas cards from people who didn't know I had moved, a box of cookies that a friend had baked and sent to the wrong address by mistake, junk mail, lots of junk mail....the icing on the cake was a bill from a hospital that did not know I had relocated, and sent me REPEATED requests for payment, which of course went unheeded, so I then received a stack of correspondence from a collection agency..again, unheeded. Another lovely gem that I found was a repeated request from the county clerk's office to fill out a form for jury duty, which of course I did not do. So the last correspondence from THEM is that if I do not show up in court by April 11, 2006, I am subject to a $1000 fine.
Two years worth of mail shoved into a box and handed to me as if this were a perfectly sane and natural thing to do.
I mean what the hell am I supposed to do with 2 year old cookies and 10 Shape Magazines from 2006?
I know it wasn't his duty to monitor my mail, but I honestly didn't realize that I was even still getting mail there. I had since moved, changed the address on all my important stuff...changed my address on my drivers license...I would like to think that if he noticed something important (ie a bill from a collection agency, or a last notice from the county clerk's office) that perhaps he could have let me know, but apparently shoving it in a box and moving it around multiple times was clearly easier to him.
All I want to do is write him a scathing email but honestly, what would be the point.
What is the MATTER with people?
Douchebag texted me a couple weeks ago saying that he could come by one Saturday and bring over a box of record albums that he still had of mine, and pick up a box of stuff that snuck its way into my storage unit all those years ago.
I wasn't thrilled at the prospect of seeing him, yet again, but the thought of having all of my childhood records back - The Monkees, Captain and Tanille, The Osmonds and Shaun Cassidy, to name a few-was thrilling enough that I figured I could endure another 10 minutes with him.
I'm going to spare you all the agony of hearing about our second reunion, because really, how much hatred can one girl spew on her blog? I'm a lover, not a fighter...however, what I'm here to tell you is about what I found in that box of record albums.
It sat on the floor of my bedroom for a week, because I'm lazy like that...and I don't have anywhere to put a stack of records at the moment, so in the box they remained. Until I decided to have a cleaning frenzy and opened up the Pandora's box that lay at the foot of my bed.
Inside, I was greeted with 2 years worth of my mail.
Magazines, Christmas cards from people who didn't know I had moved, a box of cookies that a friend had baked and sent to the wrong address by mistake, junk mail, lots of junk mail....the icing on the cake was a bill from a hospital that did not know I had relocated, and sent me REPEATED requests for payment, which of course went unheeded, so I then received a stack of correspondence from a collection agency..again, unheeded. Another lovely gem that I found was a repeated request from the county clerk's office to fill out a form for jury duty, which of course I did not do. So the last correspondence from THEM is that if I do not show up in court by April 11, 2006, I am subject to a $1000 fine.
Two years worth of mail shoved into a box and handed to me as if this were a perfectly sane and natural thing to do.
I mean what the hell am I supposed to do with 2 year old cookies and 10 Shape Magazines from 2006?
I know it wasn't his duty to monitor my mail, but I honestly didn't realize that I was even still getting mail there. I had since moved, changed the address on all my important stuff...changed my address on my drivers license...I would like to think that if he noticed something important (ie a bill from a collection agency, or a last notice from the county clerk's office) that perhaps he could have let me know, but apparently shoving it in a box and moving it around multiple times was clearly easier to him.
All I want to do is write him a scathing email but honestly, what would be the point.
What is the MATTER with people?
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Where the Wild Things Are
Under the bed.
That is where the latest wild thing has been for 2 days now. I can't get him to come out. It doesn't help that his little brother keeps stalking him.
The latest in the cat drama is as follows:
Douchebag never got back to me about when he was planning on bringing Bong over, so come Weds or so I shot him an email asking what was up. In it I also happened to mention that I had some of his stuff, and he still had some of mine, and perhaps we could trade stuff while he dropped off the cat.
He blatantly ignored my email, but texted me and said, "oh, sorry, I should have confirmed Saturday at 11am with you."
Yea, he should have, considering I already had plans...but I cancelled them and agreed to the time.
Wouldn't you know it, come 10:55am Sat am, I get a friggin Facebook message. The cat is hiding. He won't come out. Oh, and the Douchebag forgot his cell phone, so he can't call me.
I messaged back, "Borrow Victor's phone and call me with a status, please."
Facebook message back:"This is gonna take a while. Go about your day."
Arrogant prick. Now I'm being dismissed to go about my day. So that I did.
I had a perfectly amazing time with the other Cheese, biking, kayaking in the East River, drinking frozen hot chocolate from Jacques Torres and laying out in Brooklyn Bridge Park. Hours upon hours went by with no word from Douchebag. I got an invite to join Kristen and some friends from out of town to drink at Water Taxi Beach, so I got myself showered and was just about ready to leave my pad when I see an unfamiliar # come up on my phone.
"It's me, the Douchebag. I've got Bong, I'll be there in half an hour."
Um. Ok. Guess Water Taxi Beach will wait.
I hate the fact that I was nervous to see him. I hate that I still worry about his opinion and that I feel the need to impress upon him. I slightly hate the fact that I asked my friend S&M to be with me when Douchebag arrived and pretend to be my husband (he was all for it, but I changed my mind about that, not that S&M wouldn't make a great husband, but a girl can only sink to a certain level of insecurity!) I cracked open a beer and waited outside on my stoop.
Douchebag showed up an hour later, cat carrier in tow. We barely exchanged hellos. I don't know, for 2 split seconds I actually thought that maybe he had changed, gained some humanity or perhaps gotten over his animosity towards me. But no. His arrogance and disdain for me was quite apparent. I would like to point out that I had fully intended on inviting him upstairs for a beer and having some sort of catch up...because that's what sane people do. But his body language and sarcastic tone were very clearly saying "back off bitch." So I asked him to help me carry all the stuff and the cat upstairs.
"You might want to give him a bath." he pointed out. I asked why, and he replied, "Bong's been living in Victor's basement for the last 3 months." He couldn't look at me when he said it.
You fucking sonofabitch. You give up the cat and instead of calling me immediately because you don't want to deal with me, you let the poor creature live in a dank, dirty basement? For 3 months???
"Why didn't you call me?" I asked.
"I called you NOW, didn't I?" he scowled.
I wanted to scratch his eyes out.
Instead, I asked why he was separating Bong from his buddy. He wouldn't answer. "Douchebag," I said, "You owe me at least that."
"I moved in with someone who already had a cat, and she didn't want three. So I had to get rid of one."
a) He is such a fucking PUSSY that he let this stupid bitch talk him into getting rid of Bong? b) he moved out of the apartment that I was so sure he was going to die in, a tiny box of a place that he and I lived in together for 6 years...because he refused to move to a bigger space and pay more money? c) he takes the one cat that is afraid of his own shadow, sticks him in a basement, and then sends him off to me, to confuse him further? d) he fucking lives with someone?
Yea, I think "d" got to me the most. Fine, I admit it.
Either way, this news disturbed me to no end, and after I started banging around some shit, I literally began to start herding him out of my apartment, for fear that I would punch him in the face. I really wanted to punch him in the face, dammit.
As I led him to my door, he suddenly says "Oh yea, I have your stuff, but I didn't bring it with me, and I want my stuff back. So can I have it?"
You fucking asshole. You blatantly ignore my email..and now you expect that I just have your fucking stuff neatly piled up and ready to go? Blow me.
"Yea, I don't know where it is. I'll be in touch," I opened my front door and showed him the way out. "Take care."
He looked at me as if I had three heads. I'm not sure what more he wanted to say or wanted me to say, but I wasn't interested in finding out. So out the door I threw him.
Aargh.
That is where the latest wild thing has been for 2 days now. I can't get him to come out. It doesn't help that his little brother keeps stalking him.
The latest in the cat drama is as follows:
Douchebag never got back to me about when he was planning on bringing Bong over, so come Weds or so I shot him an email asking what was up. In it I also happened to mention that I had some of his stuff, and he still had some of mine, and perhaps we could trade stuff while he dropped off the cat.
He blatantly ignored my email, but texted me and said, "oh, sorry, I should have confirmed Saturday at 11am with you."
Yea, he should have, considering I already had plans...but I cancelled them and agreed to the time.
Wouldn't you know it, come 10:55am Sat am, I get a friggin Facebook message. The cat is hiding. He won't come out. Oh, and the Douchebag forgot his cell phone, so he can't call me.
I messaged back, "Borrow Victor's phone and call me with a status, please."
Facebook message back:"This is gonna take a while. Go about your day."
Arrogant prick. Now I'm being dismissed to go about my day. So that I did.
I had a perfectly amazing time with the other Cheese, biking, kayaking in the East River, drinking frozen hot chocolate from Jacques Torres and laying out in Brooklyn Bridge Park. Hours upon hours went by with no word from Douchebag. I got an invite to join Kristen and some friends from out of town to drink at Water Taxi Beach, so I got myself showered and was just about ready to leave my pad when I see an unfamiliar # come up on my phone.
"It's me, the Douchebag. I've got Bong, I'll be there in half an hour."
Um. Ok. Guess Water Taxi Beach will wait.
I hate the fact that I was nervous to see him. I hate that I still worry about his opinion and that I feel the need to impress upon him. I slightly hate the fact that I asked my friend S&M to be with me when Douchebag arrived and pretend to be my husband (he was all for it, but I changed my mind about that, not that S&M wouldn't make a great husband, but a girl can only sink to a certain level of insecurity!) I cracked open a beer and waited outside on my stoop.
Douchebag showed up an hour later, cat carrier in tow. We barely exchanged hellos. I don't know, for 2 split seconds I actually thought that maybe he had changed, gained some humanity or perhaps gotten over his animosity towards me. But no. His arrogance and disdain for me was quite apparent. I would like to point out that I had fully intended on inviting him upstairs for a beer and having some sort of catch up...because that's what sane people do. But his body language and sarcastic tone were very clearly saying "back off bitch." So I asked him to help me carry all the stuff and the cat upstairs.
"You might want to give him a bath." he pointed out. I asked why, and he replied, "Bong's been living in Victor's basement for the last 3 months." He couldn't look at me when he said it.
You fucking sonofabitch. You give up the cat and instead of calling me immediately because you don't want to deal with me, you let the poor creature live in a dank, dirty basement? For 3 months???
"Why didn't you call me?" I asked.
"I called you NOW, didn't I?" he scowled.
I wanted to scratch his eyes out.
Instead, I asked why he was separating Bong from his buddy. He wouldn't answer. "Douchebag," I said, "You owe me at least that."
"I moved in with someone who already had a cat, and she didn't want three. So I had to get rid of one."
a) He is such a fucking PUSSY that he let this stupid bitch talk him into getting rid of Bong? b) he moved out of the apartment that I was so sure he was going to die in, a tiny box of a place that he and I lived in together for 6 years...because he refused to move to a bigger space and pay more money? c) he takes the one cat that is afraid of his own shadow, sticks him in a basement, and then sends him off to me, to confuse him further? d) he fucking lives with someone?
Yea, I think "d" got to me the most. Fine, I admit it.
Either way, this news disturbed me to no end, and after I started banging around some shit, I literally began to start herding him out of my apartment, for fear that I would punch him in the face. I really wanted to punch him in the face, dammit.
As I led him to my door, he suddenly says "Oh yea, I have your stuff, but I didn't bring it with me, and I want my stuff back. So can I have it?"
You fucking asshole. You blatantly ignore my email..and now you expect that I just have your fucking stuff neatly piled up and ready to go? Blow me.
"Yea, I don't know where it is. I'll be in touch," I opened my front door and showed him the way out. "Take care."
He looked at me as if I had three heads. I'm not sure what more he wanted to say or wanted me to say, but I wasn't interested in finding out. So out the door I threw him.
Aargh.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Unbelievable
Silly me, I was starting to worry that things were starting to quiet down around here.
Thankfully, drama always has a way of finding me, and the drama of all dramas is about to unfold.
I got home from visiting a friend in the hospital tonight, and logged onto my gmail, as normal. In it, I saw a Facebook alert with my 8 yr ex's name attached.
I have not heard hide nor hair from this man in 2 yrs (we've been broken up for 3) and the last time we spoke, we were fighting over our cats.
We had been living together, with our two cats, but it was always assumed that if we ever broke up, the cats would go with me, since I was the one who had brought them in from the shelter where I had been volunteering. Well, we did in fact break up, and although it was a long time coming, I had been sort of blindsighted and had to leave lickety-split with not much warning. Which is how I ended up in Queens, living with a friend, sans cats.
I visited those cats in Brooklyn once a week, and again, it was always sort of assumed that once I got my own place, I was taking the cats back.
A few months turned into a year, but I still visited the kids every single week without fail, and fully expected that one day, they'd be living with me again.
When I finally got my own place back in Brooklyn, I excitedly emailed my ex and told him the news. "Now I can get my cats back!"
His reply was that I had a lot of nerve, coming back after a year, wanting my cats back. How dare I just walk in and expect to get them back. I was a loser for taking a YEAR to get back on my feet, I was a terrible cat owner, I was a piece of shit, an asshole, etc etc etc.
We emailed back and forth for a while and he was SUCH a dick and SUCH a miserable asshole to me, I said fuck it. Keep them. If you are going to fight this much about it you deserve them more than I.
I hated myself for giving in but to be honest I didn't want to deal with him anymore on any level and I know he loves them to death and is giving them a good home. So to me, getting rid of him forever, was more worth it to me.
Tonight, this is what was waiting in my inbox:
"I hope this email finds you well.
And I'm sorry for the shock of an email after all this time, but I want to do the right thing. Or at least try.
Not to bore you with all kinds of details, but I moved out of my apartment. As a result I can no longer keep both Cougar and Bong. You cannot imagine how much it breaks my heart to separate them, but I have no choice. And now I have to find a place for Bong. Victor has been taking care of him for the past couple of months but it's only a temporary arrangement. And since he's as much mine as yours, I think you should have him. Or at least have that choice.
I'd love to know he was safe with you. I understand if you say no, I'll figure something out. I just thought you had the right to take him if you wanted."
At first when I saw his name I was confused. It didn't register who he was or what he wanted. Then I reread the email 17 times. And got super fucking MAD. It is so typical of him. He pushes everyone away, and then when he needs something he comes crawling back with his tail between his legs, all humble. I mean, is he KIDDING? This is the guy who told me that I was unreliable because I might meet a guy and give up my cats for said guy. That I was a loser for taking a year to find an apartment! but I'm supposed to feel BAD for him now that he has been kicked out of HIS? And all of a sudden the cats are as much mine as they are HIS? Is he kidding????????????
Of course, I emailed him immediately. All it said was, "Of course I will take Bong. Call me and we'll make a plan."
I am going to take back my Bong with open arms, but the minute that cat is back in my house, that asshole is getting ripped a new asshole.
Thankfully, drama always has a way of finding me, and the drama of all dramas is about to unfold.
I got home from visiting a friend in the hospital tonight, and logged onto my gmail, as normal. In it, I saw a Facebook alert with my 8 yr ex's name attached.
I have not heard hide nor hair from this man in 2 yrs (we've been broken up for 3) and the last time we spoke, we were fighting over our cats.
We had been living together, with our two cats, but it was always assumed that if we ever broke up, the cats would go with me, since I was the one who had brought them in from the shelter where I had been volunteering. Well, we did in fact break up, and although it was a long time coming, I had been sort of blindsighted and had to leave lickety-split with not much warning. Which is how I ended up in Queens, living with a friend, sans cats.
I visited those cats in Brooklyn once a week, and again, it was always sort of assumed that once I got my own place, I was taking the cats back.
A few months turned into a year, but I still visited the kids every single week without fail, and fully expected that one day, they'd be living with me again.
When I finally got my own place back in Brooklyn, I excitedly emailed my ex and told him the news. "Now I can get my cats back!"
His reply was that I had a lot of nerve, coming back after a year, wanting my cats back. How dare I just walk in and expect to get them back. I was a loser for taking a YEAR to get back on my feet, I was a terrible cat owner, I was a piece of shit, an asshole, etc etc etc.
We emailed back and forth for a while and he was SUCH a dick and SUCH a miserable asshole to me, I said fuck it. Keep them. If you are going to fight this much about it you deserve them more than I.
I hated myself for giving in but to be honest I didn't want to deal with him anymore on any level and I know he loves them to death and is giving them a good home. So to me, getting rid of him forever, was more worth it to me.
Tonight, this is what was waiting in my inbox:
"I hope this email finds you well.
And I'm sorry for the shock of an email after all this time, but I want to do the right thing. Or at least try.
Not to bore you with all kinds of details, but I moved out of my apartment. As a result I can no longer keep both Cougar and Bong. You cannot imagine how much it breaks my heart to separate them, but I have no choice. And now I have to find a place for Bong. Victor has been taking care of him for the past couple of months but it's only a temporary arrangement. And since he's as much mine as yours, I think you should have him. Or at least have that choice.
I'd love to know he was safe with you. I understand if you say no, I'll figure something out. I just thought you had the right to take him if you wanted."
At first when I saw his name I was confused. It didn't register who he was or what he wanted. Then I reread the email 17 times. And got super fucking MAD. It is so typical of him. He pushes everyone away, and then when he needs something he comes crawling back with his tail between his legs, all humble. I mean, is he KIDDING? This is the guy who told me that I was unreliable because I might meet a guy and give up my cats for said guy. That I was a loser for taking a year to find an apartment! but I'm supposed to feel BAD for him now that he has been kicked out of HIS? And all of a sudden the cats are as much mine as they are HIS? Is he kidding????????????
Of course, I emailed him immediately. All it said was, "Of course I will take Bong. Call me and we'll make a plan."
I am going to take back my Bong with open arms, but the minute that cat is back in my house, that asshole is getting ripped a new asshole.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Girl You Know It's True
I was sitting in what used to be my favorite bar (mainly due to the fact that I was unhealthily obsessed with the hot young man who tended said bar) with a couple of friends playing catch up. These friends are both in relationships-one of them has been married for quite some time-so, of course, I performed the "Cheese Dating Monologues" as I seem to be doing a lot of these days.
I had them in stitches over all the mayhem and mishaps of the last six months...and then I noticed that a guy at the next table seemed to be mesmerized by my every word.
I had noticed this guy when I was over at the bar getting drinks. Not because I was interested in him, but for some reason he and the woman he was with really stood out to me. Either way, I guess his date was in the bathroom and he was bored, so he held onto every word I said, which isn't hard to do, since I AM pretty fascinating.
Mid-sentence, I was suddenly aware that the guy was now at my side.
"You are the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen," he whispered in my ear. "Please take my phone #."
My first thought was to blurt out, "Aren't you on a date???"
Apparently, he was not on a date. Apparently, he was out with a "client", a stylist to the stars of some sort.
I was a little tipsy at this point, and didn't really know how to react to any of this, but somehow, the guy had me whipping my phone out of my bag and next thing I knew, he had entered his number into my phone, and then called his phone with my phone. Oy vey.
"My name is True, and I have been listening to your stories about dating. And you need to know that I would never treat you like any of those guys. I would treat you the way you deserve to be treated."
At this point, I can't decide which is more heinous, that he now has my phone #, or that his name is True. Either way, I think I might have been laughing in his face a little. I tried really hard not to, because any guy that can recognize my stunning good looks is a-ok in my book! But then the name dropping started. He brought over his "client" who proceeded to tell me how the first time she ever met True, he was in a limo with a very famous late night tv cohort...as if this was supposed to impress me.
They then added that they were on their way to A-Rod's party. To which I quipped, "Oh is Madonna going to be there?"
"No, I doubt it" True answered, very seriously.
He then leaned over and reminded me yet again of my stunning beauty, and that he was going to call me soon.
"Say hi to Madonna for me!" I shouted after him.
True and his "client" then headed off for their shindig, and we watched as they stood outside the bar and began to make out.
Gosh. I really hope he calls.
I had them in stitches over all the mayhem and mishaps of the last six months...and then I noticed that a guy at the next table seemed to be mesmerized by my every word.
I had noticed this guy when I was over at the bar getting drinks. Not because I was interested in him, but for some reason he and the woman he was with really stood out to me. Either way, I guess his date was in the bathroom and he was bored, so he held onto every word I said, which isn't hard to do, since I AM pretty fascinating.
Mid-sentence, I was suddenly aware that the guy was now at my side.
"You are the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen," he whispered in my ear. "Please take my phone #."
My first thought was to blurt out, "Aren't you on a date???"
Apparently, he was not on a date. Apparently, he was out with a "client", a stylist to the stars of some sort.
I was a little tipsy at this point, and didn't really know how to react to any of this, but somehow, the guy had me whipping my phone out of my bag and next thing I knew, he had entered his number into my phone, and then called his phone with my phone. Oy vey.
"My name is True, and I have been listening to your stories about dating. And you need to know that I would never treat you like any of those guys. I would treat you the way you deserve to be treated."
At this point, I can't decide which is more heinous, that he now has my phone #, or that his name is True. Either way, I think I might have been laughing in his face a little. I tried really hard not to, because any guy that can recognize my stunning good looks is a-ok in my book! But then the name dropping started. He brought over his "client" who proceeded to tell me how the first time she ever met True, he was in a limo with a very famous late night tv cohort...as if this was supposed to impress me.
They then added that they were on their way to A-Rod's party. To which I quipped, "Oh is Madonna going to be there?"
"No, I doubt it" True answered, very seriously.
He then leaned over and reminded me yet again of my stunning beauty, and that he was going to call me soon.
"Say hi to Madonna for me!" I shouted after him.
True and his "client" then headed off for their shindig, and we watched as they stood outside the bar and began to make out.
Gosh. I really hope he calls.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Just another WTF in a day full of WTF's
There sure ain't nothing like coming home from a semi-shitty day wherein I chose to let my ego suffer from pretty much everything I could get my hands on....and finding an inbox full of email.
Email, all from POSTMASTER, kicking back oh, 8 or 9 messages or so that were all sent to my ex, going back to December...telling me that his inbox is unavailable.
I'm hoping that gmail is just playing some sick joke on me, because they want to see me cringe when his name pops up one, no two no three no NINE times in my inbox, saying "ha ha. here I am. but you can't have me."
yea, feelin' great right now.
Email, all from POSTMASTER, kicking back oh, 8 or 9 messages or so that were all sent to my ex, going back to December...telling me that his inbox is unavailable.
I'm hoping that gmail is just playing some sick joke on me, because they want to see me cringe when his name pops up one, no two no three no NINE times in my inbox, saying "ha ha. here I am. but you can't have me."
yea, feelin' great right now.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Facing my Fears, One Ex at a Time
On my way to the subway to meet my family for Father's Day brunch, I looked up to see an arrogant swagger, longish hair, and a scruffy beard that seemed oddly familiar. And then I realized it was my 8 yr ex.
My 8 yr ex and his new girlfriend. His much younger, bright red haired, multi tattooed girlfriend. Or maybe even live in lover, or wife. Who knows, since we haven't spoken in two years.
They had just turned off of Flatbush Ave and rounded onto 7th Ave, so they missed me by a hair..not that it would have mattered...he would have looked me full in the face and probably just kept on walking with no sign of any kind of emotion or recognition.
I ducked into Duane Reade, my eyes blurred with tears which kept me from being able to find the pain reliever section. Because suddenly I had the biggest headache of my life, and I don't think it was a coincidence that it appeared right then and there.
I texted my friend Married, who was probably the closest to the two of us during our 8 year tenure. She called me immediately.
"Why are you so upset?" she asked. "You've seen him before. You've known he had this girlfriend."
I thought about it for a minute, because truthfully, he and I mutually broke up, we were not in love anymore at the end, and I haven't missed him in the 3 yrs that we've been apart.
I thought about it some more, and then I said, "It's because, as much of an asshole as he is, he found someone. And I have not."
The truth hurts, man.
My 8 yr ex and his new girlfriend. His much younger, bright red haired, multi tattooed girlfriend. Or maybe even live in lover, or wife. Who knows, since we haven't spoken in two years.
They had just turned off of Flatbush Ave and rounded onto 7th Ave, so they missed me by a hair..not that it would have mattered...he would have looked me full in the face and probably just kept on walking with no sign of any kind of emotion or recognition.
I ducked into Duane Reade, my eyes blurred with tears which kept me from being able to find the pain reliever section. Because suddenly I had the biggest headache of my life, and I don't think it was a coincidence that it appeared right then and there.
I texted my friend Married, who was probably the closest to the two of us during our 8 year tenure. She called me immediately.
"Why are you so upset?" she asked. "You've seen him before. You've known he had this girlfriend."
I thought about it for a minute, because truthfully, he and I mutually broke up, we were not in love anymore at the end, and I haven't missed him in the 3 yrs that we've been apart.
I thought about it some more, and then I said, "It's because, as much of an asshole as he is, he found someone. And I have not."
The truth hurts, man.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Cruisin'
Couple months back I had a pretty disappointing date with a man that I now refer to as Stoner Dude if and when he ever comes up in conversation.
Something that I never really admitted to most people, or on this blog, is that, Stoner Dude actually contacted me after that horrendous date, and wanted to go out AGAIN. And I, bored out of my mind and hornier than Ron Jeremy on hormones, actually agreed to try again. I didn't know what the fuck I was expecting, but the guy is hot and hey, times are tough.
A half hour before we were to meet (he was coming to my neighborhood for dinner, drinks, and a "massage". Ahem), he cancelled on me. On gchat. And didn't wait for a response. Then went offline, like, forever. I honestly didn't give a shit, it was kind of hilarious and just went to show what a colossal asshole this person really was. I, ever the grudge holder, deleted him on Facebook, and blocked him from every website and email possible. Just cuz.
For some insane reason, last week, this douchebag emailed me from an email address that I hadn't managed to block, and asked me what I was up to.
DELETE.
Ok. This post isn't really about any of this stuff. I guess I just needed to get all that off my chest. What I really want to talk about is this past Saturday afternoon.
Saturday afternoon I was strolling through the West Village with my friend UK. As we walked past Christopher on 7th Ave South, I saw a familiar figure hanging out on the corner. Pink button down, tucked into tight jeans, cowboy boots. Very strung out look. Clearly doing a walk of shame. Holy shit it was the Stoner Dude.
I, of course, was wearing my sweaty yoga clothes, hair on top of my head, not looking very sexy at all, and did not want to be spotted (although he probably wouldn't have even recognized me) but I sent UK over to check out the situation.
She ascertained that he was indeed in last night's clothes, and she made another interesting observation. "He's into guys."
This, coming from the diva who is a self-proclaimed fag-hag, works in the garment industry, spends summers in Cherry Grove on Fire Island, and has gaydar like nobody's business.
Hey, I have no idea if she is correct on this front, but either way, it was a lovely sight to behold, and that is just how I'm going to remember him. Cruisin' for dudes in his pink shirt, on 7th Ave South. :)
Something that I never really admitted to most people, or on this blog, is that, Stoner Dude actually contacted me after that horrendous date, and wanted to go out AGAIN. And I, bored out of my mind and hornier than Ron Jeremy on hormones, actually agreed to try again. I didn't know what the fuck I was expecting, but the guy is hot and hey, times are tough.
A half hour before we were to meet (he was coming to my neighborhood for dinner, drinks, and a "massage". Ahem), he cancelled on me. On gchat. And didn't wait for a response. Then went offline, like, forever. I honestly didn't give a shit, it was kind of hilarious and just went to show what a colossal asshole this person really was. I, ever the grudge holder, deleted him on Facebook, and blocked him from every website and email possible. Just cuz.
For some insane reason, last week, this douchebag emailed me from an email address that I hadn't managed to block, and asked me what I was up to.
DELETE.
Ok. This post isn't really about any of this stuff. I guess I just needed to get all that off my chest. What I really want to talk about is this past Saturday afternoon.
Saturday afternoon I was strolling through the West Village with my friend UK. As we walked past Christopher on 7th Ave South, I saw a familiar figure hanging out on the corner. Pink button down, tucked into tight jeans, cowboy boots. Very strung out look. Clearly doing a walk of shame. Holy shit it was the Stoner Dude.
I, of course, was wearing my sweaty yoga clothes, hair on top of my head, not looking very sexy at all, and did not want to be spotted (although he probably wouldn't have even recognized me) but I sent UK over to check out the situation.
She ascertained that he was indeed in last night's clothes, and she made another interesting observation. "He's into guys."
This, coming from the diva who is a self-proclaimed fag-hag, works in the garment industry, spends summers in Cherry Grove on Fire Island, and has gaydar like nobody's business.
Hey, I have no idea if she is correct on this front, but either way, it was a lovely sight to behold, and that is just how I'm going to remember him. Cruisin' for dudes in his pink shirt, on 7th Ave South. :)
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