The difficult part about being in a serious relationship is maintaining your individuality. At least for me. I’m lucky enough to be linked to someone who doesn’t need constant babysitting and manages to fend for himself when we’re out with friends so I never have to worry about neglecting anyone. We both seem independent enough that we won’t get lost in each others’ identity. But then the hard part happens…the part when I have to hang out with his friends when I’m not in the mood to be social. Shit…I have to be in a particular mood to even want to hang out with my friends.
He asked me join him for a friend’s birthday party tonight (a Monday night…at 22 this might’ve been acceptable but in my mid to late 20s, the idea of partying on a Monday night is just so unappealing). And since my stomach has been acting up (too much spicy food and fried stuff), I won’t be drinking. To top it off, the party is at The Standard in Downtown. Nothing wrong with it…except t here’s everything wrong with it. No offense but that just isn’t my scene.
Who made up these relationship rules? What are these terms and conditions and why do we feel obligated to do these things in order to be considered a good boyfriend/girlfriend? Would it be wrong to cancel? Am I selfish because the idea of coming home and vegging out on my new Netflix movie sounds more enticing than accompanying my boyfriend to his friend’s birthday party? Is this where resentment comes into play? I understand compromising and changing in order to have a harmonious relationship but I always thought of that as something different – like, having to get accustomed to sharing a bed or giving up your leftovers. Going to a rooftop party at The Standard on a Monday night? Not quite what I had in mind.
So here’s the compromise: I go. But I drive by myself and leave at midnight. He can either come home with me or stay with his friends. That's fair...right?
Monday, August 10, 2009
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Like A Fresh Pair Of Batteries
Lately I’ve been having mini episodes of the quarter-life-crisis. I’m beginning to realize it's a recurring theme in your 20s. It comes when you have the desire to change everything and feel something new. In November of this year, I will have my 3 year anniversary at my current job. I think to myself, what have I done since I’ve graduated college besides work and take a few trips here and there? Why do we long for dramatic changes? And why am I too chicken to make them happen? When a new job comes up, or a promotion happens, or you take a fun trip somewhere, or you purchase a new car--you satiate that craving for something new--at least for a moment. Then life is good. But when the novelty wears off the feeling of inadequacy and lost potential comes back.
Sometimes, though, you don’t need something overtly drastic to recharge and feel alive again.
This guy that I started talking to on OkCupid and met up with in New York back in May (I guess he’s kinda cool or whatever) visited LA for the first time. I showed him around – everything from the beachy vibe of Santa Monica to the gritty gentrified feel of Silverlake (and even some parts of the hot-ass San Gabriel Valley and Pasadena). As I showed him around, I felt like i was rediscovering these places--almost like I was on vacation...at home.
On his last day, I drove him to the airport at 4:30 in the morning. Slightly cranky, but reflective more than anything, I got that feeling you get when you near the end of a trip. Reality sinks in and you realize you have to revert back to your "regular" life and pick up the comforting yet mundane routine that you've adopted in order to feel a sense of control. The spontaneity dissipates.
After I dropped him off at LAX, I rushed back home with the hopes of getting a few more hours of sleep in before I had to go into the office. Suddenly, life was ordinary. My bed was empty. My dinners were solo. My nights were quiet. As I left LAX, I realized that I saw LA for the first time again. I didn’t need to move to a different city, take an exciting trip, or apply for a new job to feel new. He gave me a different perspective on the city that I’ve learned to love in spite of everything I hate about it. It felt new...so new.
Sometimes, though, you don’t need something overtly drastic to recharge and feel alive again.
This guy that I started talking to on OkCupid and met up with in New York back in May (I guess he’s kinda cool or whatever) visited LA for the first time. I showed him around – everything from the beachy vibe of Santa Monica to the gritty gentrified feel of Silverlake (and even some parts of the hot-ass San Gabriel Valley and Pasadena). As I showed him around, I felt like i was rediscovering these places--almost like I was on vacation...at home.
On his last day, I drove him to the airport at 4:30 in the morning. Slightly cranky, but reflective more than anything, I got that feeling you get when you near the end of a trip. Reality sinks in and you realize you have to revert back to your "regular" life and pick up the comforting yet mundane routine that you've adopted in order to feel a sense of control. The spontaneity dissipates.
After I dropped him off at LAX, I rushed back home with the hopes of getting a few more hours of sleep in before I had to go into the office. Suddenly, life was ordinary. My bed was empty. My dinners were solo. My nights were quiet. As I left LAX, I realized that I saw LA for the first time again. I didn’t need to move to a different city, take an exciting trip, or apply for a new job to feel new. He gave me a different perspective on the city that I’ve learned to love in spite of everything I hate about it. It felt new...so new.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
The Singles Club vs. The Crazy Club
As a member of the Singles Club, I constantly find myself scoffing at the things my coupled friends do. When I hear "babe," "baby" or any variation of that term of endearment, I shiver. Whenever I see couples doing affectionate things like caressing each others' arm or giving each other pecks on the cheek, I look the other way. I could never empathize with my friends when they'd have complaints like "OMG he hasn't called me and he usually calls me around this time" or "I met his ex and she's really cute and they're still friends. Wanna see her pics? Let's look at her pics and tell me she's ugly!" And when coupled people do these things to someone like me, a person who has been a member of the Singles Club for, oh i dunno, all of his life, it just doesn't resonate well. So I'll justify the complaints with responses like "Oh it's nothing, his phone probably died" or "Yeah, you're definitely cuter. Look at at her face." And then they come back with "No. Because a, b, and c." and at that point I just roll my eyes and want to strangle my coupled friend because honestly, I could care less and my main concern is getting a a drink so that I can get drunk enough to the point that the complaints become laughable.
But then something suddenly changes when you start dating someone you really like and you become THAT person. The person you never thought you would be. You join the Crazy Club. You find yourself stealing affectionate caresses with that person, although you VOWED to never let that happen in front of your friends because you know how uncomfortable that made you feel when you had to see it. You start freaking the fuck out when the person hasn't called/texted you all day when you used to tell yourself "I would never be the crazy type in the relationship. I need my space so I'd give my significant other space also."
I've heard that the feeling of falling for someone is an extremely scary thing, but beautiful nonetheless. You allow yourself to be vulnerable, to let yourself feel things that are totally foreign to you. Those cheesy love songs with lyrics like "you're on my mind all day," "I'm so sprung on you," take on a whole new meaning. Then you take a good look at yourself and think, "I am crazy. I lose it when I don't see him. I freak out when I don't hear from him." No one ever tells you that when you start to lose yourself in someone, you also lose your sanity.
All your crazy coupled friends are ecstatic that you're finally understanding what it feels like to be crazy, just like them. They initiate you into the club by forcing you to tell them exactly how you feel when you start to lose it. Then they nod their head in agreement with a face that screams, "I know. It's hard, isn't it? It's hard being crazy." And you look back at them as they nod their head and empathize with you and suddenly, you see yourself in your friend's eyes...staring right back at you.
FUCKING SCARY.
I mean...not that I'd know or anything.
But then something suddenly changes when you start dating someone you really like and you become THAT person. The person you never thought you would be. You join the Crazy Club. You find yourself stealing affectionate caresses with that person, although you VOWED to never let that happen in front of your friends because you know how uncomfortable that made you feel when you had to see it. You start freaking the fuck out when the person hasn't called/texted you all day when you used to tell yourself "I would never be the crazy type in the relationship. I need my space so I'd give my significant other space also."
I've heard that the feeling of falling for someone is an extremely scary thing, but beautiful nonetheless. You allow yourself to be vulnerable, to let yourself feel things that are totally foreign to you. Those cheesy love songs with lyrics like "you're on my mind all day," "I'm so sprung on you," take on a whole new meaning. Then you take a good look at yourself and think, "I am crazy. I lose it when I don't see him. I freak out when I don't hear from him." No one ever tells you that when you start to lose yourself in someone, you also lose your sanity.
All your crazy coupled friends are ecstatic that you're finally understanding what it feels like to be crazy, just like them. They initiate you into the club by forcing you to tell them exactly how you feel when you start to lose it. Then they nod their head in agreement with a face that screams, "I know. It's hard, isn't it? It's hard being crazy." And you look back at them as they nod their head and empathize with you and suddenly, you see yourself in your friend's eyes...staring right back at you.
FUCKING SCARY.
I mean...not that I'd know or anything.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
jaded?
I get too excited too easily. I get too invested too fast. Then it’s gone. It fizzles away. So when I do start to get excited, I try to remind myself that I don’t care. I like being single and I don’t want to be tied down by this thing called…a boyfriend? I get lonely though. And some nights, hugging the pillow just doesn’t do it for me. But gross…why do I talk like this? I can do bad all by myself. I like the single life. I do. I do. I do.
I’m beginning to realize that when I say those things, it’s because I’m trying to soften the blow so it doesn’t hurt when the disappointment happens. It reminded me of an episode of Mad Men. January Jones’ character gets a gig as a model for coca-cola because they were looking for girls with that Grace Kelly look. She’s thrilled that she finally gets do something more…more than the housewife routine she does on a daily basis. After a one photo shoot, the art director tells her, “Coca-cola wanted to go in another direction. Less Grace Kelly, more Audrey Hepburn.” She’s devastated. But when she gets home, she convinces herself and her husband that she never wanted to model. It was too fussy for her. She prefers being at home and taking care of the kids. She doesn't like whipping up a quick half-assed meal for her husband to come home to. She likes to take her time. She likes gardening, wearing aprons, and doing laundry.
In some ways I feel like her. I get so excited that I tell all of my friends about this new prospect. Then before anything can even happen, it’s gone. So to save face,I convince myself that I love being single. And in a way I do. I love the freedom. I feel independent and content with myself. I definitely don’t NEED someone in my life. But would it be nice—of course.
And then people tell me about the book,The Secret. “Don’t say things like that!” they tell me. “You have to put it out into the universe so that it manifests itself." Well I’m putting it out there then – I’m excited! I’m giddy! I like this feeling and I’m gonna enjoy the ride and seeing where it'll take me! And if in the end, it all goes down like the rest of them, that’s okay!
Because I can easily convince myself that I’m through with it.
I’m beginning to realize that when I say those things, it’s because I’m trying to soften the blow so it doesn’t hurt when the disappointment happens. It reminded me of an episode of Mad Men. January Jones’ character gets a gig as a model for coca-cola because they were looking for girls with that Grace Kelly look. She’s thrilled that she finally gets do something more…more than the housewife routine she does on a daily basis. After a one photo shoot, the art director tells her, “Coca-cola wanted to go in another direction. Less Grace Kelly, more Audrey Hepburn.” She’s devastated. But when she gets home, she convinces herself and her husband that she never wanted to model. It was too fussy for her. She prefers being at home and taking care of the kids. She doesn't like whipping up a quick half-assed meal for her husband to come home to. She likes to take her time. She likes gardening, wearing aprons, and doing laundry.
In some ways I feel like her. I get so excited that I tell all of my friends about this new prospect. Then before anything can even happen, it’s gone. So to save face,I convince myself that I love being single. And in a way I do. I love the freedom. I feel independent and content with myself. I definitely don’t NEED someone in my life. But would it be nice—of course.
And then people tell me about the book,The Secret. “Don’t say things like that!” they tell me. “You have to put it out into the universe so that it manifests itself." Well I’m putting it out there then – I’m excited! I’m giddy! I like this feeling and I’m gonna enjoy the ride and seeing where it'll take me! And if in the end, it all goes down like the rest of them, that’s okay!
Because I can easily convince myself that I’m through with it.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
hatin' on the club - pt 2
i didn't think much of the encounter at the club. i sorta saw it as affirmation that my mojo is back. not exactly a "omg omg omg omg omg!" feeling. more like a "yep...still got it" feeling. on a whim, i decided to call him. our conversation was reassuring. he seemed like a fun guy. a singer, apparently. a transplant from wisconsin who is an aspiring singer. a singer with accolades to his name. local celebrity, i guess. he told me he was going to feed the homeless later that night. i felt a mix of laughter and admiration. because, really...who says that? i was caught off guard but impressed by his giving nature. i was excited to hang out with him...BUT, i still wasn't feeling "omg omg omg omg omg"---yet.
on monday night my hip hop class at LA Fitness was cancelled so i decided to free up my night to hang out with this singer. i went to his place in k-town. when he came to get me, i was shocked at how...tiny this motherfucker was. not even short, TINY. i mean, talk about the lollipop guild welcoming me to munchkin land. was i that drunk? whatever, i kept an open mind.
i walked into his place and he told me "it's filthy." it wasn't filthy. it was unsanitary. it was a landfill. it was like a garbage truck manifested itself into a person and shat all over the place. piles of dishes from 4 months ago accumulating in the sink. gross. then i realized that since "singing" doesn't pay the bills, he works at a pot store part time. and for my birthday, he gave me some pot. at least the munchkin singer was nice and thoughtful. but as i looked at his place, i realized, he has a makeshift room in the living room--curtains separating the 3'x6' living room from his..."room". he's 31. with a makeshift room in the living room. whoa.
we were supposed to get yogurt but he couldn't find his wallet in the mess that is his life. so we sat on his couch and "talked." his actor roommate came home and the two of them started talking about their gigs. how they're rising stars. how they've worked so hard and this year will be a good year for them! they're gonna make it! i felt like a fly on the wall. i might as well have been invisible. when the actor retreated to his room, singer decided to continue to talk at me...not to me, but AT me. about his meeting with the VP of Clear Channel. and his meeting with some executives at NBC. and how KROQ will be playing his songs on rotation soon. listen, transplant, i wanted to say. i grew up in southern california. i'm immersed in the indusry. i'm jaded. this isn't impressing me.
every time i spoke up to insinuate "hey it's my turn..shut up," he just kept talking...and talking...and talking. i got so bored and felt so disrespected that i purposely tilted my head back and stared at the ceiling. he continued to talk..and somehow, he started talking about america and capitalism. how he hates corporations like starbucks and mcdonalds because "america wasn't founded on those princples. the people who came to america wanted equality and for everyone to get a piece of the pie. not to kill the mom and pop shops...the way mcdonalds and starbucks does....you're bored, aren't you?'
"kinda. but anyway, you're wrong." i told him.
"how so?"
i'm not one to talk about values or american history but, i had to speak up.
"well people who came to america didn't want equality for everyone. they came here because they didn't agree with the church in england and they wanted to practice puritanism freely. so they came here with selfish intentions. then on top of that, they killed off people who were already living here. then they created the constitution...for the white man. the constitution wasn't written to take into account minorities. it was for the white man to progress. how is that about equality and everyone having a piece of the pie?"
"oh. is that what they taught you?"
WHAT IN THE HELL!?!?!
"uh no. that's american history. that's what YOU should've been taught. it's in the textbooks."
"well that's not what i learned growing up."
"is that what they taught you in wisconsin? because it's wrong."
"this is weird..."
"yeah. well...that's what you should've been taught."
it was uncomfortable for a few minutes after. i was trying to figure out how to get out of the situation. he got a text from a friend and i immediately found that as my exit. "i should leave. i have work early and i have to get up at 6am." (i never wake up at 6am for work).
"okay. thanks for hanging out on a school night. are fridays usually good for you?"
"yeah. friday nights are good to go out." (and that's the truth...i go out on friday nights.)
"cool. i'll call you on friday!"
i walked out of his apartment and suddenly i felt it. the "omg omg omg omg omg omg" feeling. the "omg what the fuck was that?" feeling. the "omg he's like 2 feet tall" feeling. the "omg, he's stupid and thinks america was founded on values and princples" feeling. the "omg...i hate meeting people at clubs" feeling.
O
M
G
i thought this munchkin singer was cute?!?! this stupid, arrogant transplant from wisconsin...munchkin singer!? how drunk was i?!
got me hatin' on the club.
on monday night my hip hop class at LA Fitness was cancelled so i decided to free up my night to hang out with this singer. i went to his place in k-town. when he came to get me, i was shocked at how...tiny this motherfucker was. not even short, TINY. i mean, talk about the lollipop guild welcoming me to munchkin land. was i that drunk? whatever, i kept an open mind.
i walked into his place and he told me "it's filthy." it wasn't filthy. it was unsanitary. it was a landfill. it was like a garbage truck manifested itself into a person and shat all over the place. piles of dishes from 4 months ago accumulating in the sink. gross. then i realized that since "singing" doesn't pay the bills, he works at a pot store part time. and for my birthday, he gave me some pot. at least the munchkin singer was nice and thoughtful. but as i looked at his place, i realized, he has a makeshift room in the living room--curtains separating the 3'x6' living room from his..."room". he's 31. with a makeshift room in the living room. whoa.
we were supposed to get yogurt but he couldn't find his wallet in the mess that is his life. so we sat on his couch and "talked." his actor roommate came home and the two of them started talking about their gigs. how they're rising stars. how they've worked so hard and this year will be a good year for them! they're gonna make it! i felt like a fly on the wall. i might as well have been invisible. when the actor retreated to his room, singer decided to continue to talk at me...not to me, but AT me. about his meeting with the VP of Clear Channel. and his meeting with some executives at NBC. and how KROQ will be playing his songs on rotation soon. listen, transplant, i wanted to say. i grew up in southern california. i'm immersed in the indusry. i'm jaded. this isn't impressing me.
every time i spoke up to insinuate "hey it's my turn..shut up," he just kept talking...and talking...and talking. i got so bored and felt so disrespected that i purposely tilted my head back and stared at the ceiling. he continued to talk..and somehow, he started talking about america and capitalism. how he hates corporations like starbucks and mcdonalds because "america wasn't founded on those princples. the people who came to america wanted equality and for everyone to get a piece of the pie. not to kill the mom and pop shops...the way mcdonalds and starbucks does....you're bored, aren't you?'
"kinda. but anyway, you're wrong." i told him.
"how so?"
i'm not one to talk about values or american history but, i had to speak up.
"well people who came to america didn't want equality for everyone. they came here because they didn't agree with the church in england and they wanted to practice puritanism freely. so they came here with selfish intentions. then on top of that, they killed off people who were already living here. then they created the constitution...for the white man. the constitution wasn't written to take into account minorities. it was for the white man to progress. how is that about equality and everyone having a piece of the pie?"
"oh. is that what they taught you?"
WHAT IN THE HELL!?!?!
"uh no. that's american history. that's what YOU should've been taught. it's in the textbooks."
"well that's not what i learned growing up."
"is that what they taught you in wisconsin? because it's wrong."
"this is weird..."
"yeah. well...that's what you should've been taught."
it was uncomfortable for a few minutes after. i was trying to figure out how to get out of the situation. he got a text from a friend and i immediately found that as my exit. "i should leave. i have work early and i have to get up at 6am." (i never wake up at 6am for work).
"okay. thanks for hanging out on a school night. are fridays usually good for you?"
"yeah. friday nights are good to go out." (and that's the truth...i go out on friday nights.)
"cool. i'll call you on friday!"
i walked out of his apartment and suddenly i felt it. the "omg omg omg omg omg omg" feeling. the "omg what the fuck was that?" feeling. the "omg he's like 2 feet tall" feeling. the "omg, he's stupid and thinks america was founded on values and princples" feeling. the "omg...i hate meeting people at clubs" feeling.
O
M
G
i thought this munchkin singer was cute?!?! this stupid, arrogant transplant from wisconsin...munchkin singer!? how drunk was i?!
got me hatin' on the club.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
hatin' on the club - pt. 1
on my birthday weekend i felt like i was the shit. i had my mojo. i had swagger for days. i was flyyy. when i went out with my friends on friday night, we danced up a storm at popstars (it's seriously like our version of cheers...you know, where everybody knows your name). as i was dancing, someone approached me from behind and said "you're a really good dancer." in my drunken state i blurted "thanks!" and flashed a smile. i looked at my friends and they raised their eyebrows hinting 'go talk to him!' i thought - why the hell not? it's my birthday!!! i started dancing with the guy and immediately wished it would end when he started dancing too. because MAN..he was bad. but i was determined to get a conversation out of this. i took him by the hand and dragged him off the dance floor. we had a conversation by the bar.
for the most part i can't even remember what we talked about. i just remember feeling a rush of adrenaline - almost like an out of body experience. was this really me? talking to a guy at a club? i don't even know how to flirt without sweat beads dripping down my forehead and here i was being ballsy and aggressive. honestly, the words we exchanged could've been gibberish, i was high off the feeling. and somehow i managed to ask this guy on a date. we exchanged numbers and hugged. "well, let's not be rude," i said. "let's get back to our friends tomorrow, we can figure out when we can hang out." slick. i thought. who was i?
i called him the next day. we had a pleasant conversation about the turn of events the night before. how he thought i was charming and a breath of fresh air. "i was glad you didn't pull me aside to have a make out session....you actually wanted to talk." he told me. after the phone call i was ecstatic but calm enough to remind myself not to get too head over heels. i couldn't even remember what he looked like. but i had a date lined up. i felt something different about this one. it felt new.
i couldn't really hate on the club anymore. i guess nice encounters happen there after all...
...to be continued...
on my birthday weekend i felt like i was the shit. i had my mojo. i had swagger for days. i was flyyy. when i went out with my friends on friday night, we danced up a storm at popstars (it's seriously like our version of cheers...you know, where everybody knows your name). as i was dancing, someone approached me from behind and said "you're a really good dancer." in my drunken state i blurted "thanks!" and flashed a smile. i looked at my friends and they raised their eyebrows hinting 'go talk to him!' i thought - why the hell not? it's my birthday!!! i started dancing with the guy and immediately wished it would end when he started dancing too. because MAN..he was bad. but i was determined to get a conversation out of this. i took him by the hand and dragged him off the dance floor. we had a conversation by the bar.
for the most part i can't even remember what we talked about. i just remember feeling a rush of adrenaline - almost like an out of body experience. was this really me? talking to a guy at a club? i don't even know how to flirt without sweat beads dripping down my forehead and here i was being ballsy and aggressive. honestly, the words we exchanged could've been gibberish, i was high off the feeling. and somehow i managed to ask this guy on a date. we exchanged numbers and hugged. "well, let's not be rude," i said. "let's get back to our friends tomorrow, we can figure out when we can hang out." slick. i thought. who was i?
i called him the next day. we had a pleasant conversation about the turn of events the night before. how he thought i was charming and a breath of fresh air. "i was glad you didn't pull me aside to have a make out session....you actually wanted to talk." he told me. after the phone call i was ecstatic but calm enough to remind myself not to get too head over heels. i couldn't even remember what he looked like. but i had a date lined up. i felt something different about this one. it felt new.
i couldn't really hate on the club anymore. i guess nice encounters happen there after all...
...to be continued...
Monday, March 23, 2009
twenty six and plenty sex.
i turn 26 on sunday. i didn't fully process this until i was unpacking things in my room and wondering what my birthday theme should be. Smurfs. Thunder Cats. Muppet Babies. All 80's cartoons. FUCK. I'll be 26 soon. then i got to thinking about my cousin jason. he's my age. he proposed to his girlfriend of 7 years. he's saving money to buy a house, marry his fiance, and start a family. and here i am, trying to figure out which 80's cartoon will be the perfect theme for my 26th birthday party. then i realized how many people around me are getting married. as we grow up we all encounter milestones. when you turn 18, you're attending high school graduation parties and going off to college. when you're 22 (or somewhere around that age), you're attending college graduations. and i guess based on the people around me, when you hit your mid to late 20's, you start going to weddings. so as my domesticated, traditional cousin prepares for his wedding, i'm still trying to figure out how the hell to date.
while i've learned a thing or two through these adventures, i'm still pretty baffled about how this it's all supposed to work. the most important lesson i've learned, however, is that if i can't picture myself having sex with you, then i probably shouldn't date you. i know, i know...shallow. but i tried dating with no hang ups. i put myself out there and went on dates with guys that would typically make me feel dirty inside and want to take 5 showers in a row--and it didn't work. sure, the majority of these dates were pleasant. entertaining even. but i started to sound like a broken record: "he was really cool. i liked his personality but there's no chemistry." and i'm starting to realize that "no chemistry" is a euphemism for "i think he's really ugly." i can't seem to find the happy medium. when i find someone extremely hot, i don't want him to have a personality or any substance. and when i think the person is ugly, i expect him to have personality for days.
i think the problem is that i'm having a hard time reconciling the idea of a harmonious, commited relationship with the idea of sex. for me, the two can't seem to co-exist. i guess the catholicism is rooted in me because it boils down to the whole "virgin/whore" dichotomy. how can i possibly be sexual and carnal with someone i'm supposed to respect and love? i can't make sense of it. so yeah--i admit--most of my sexual encounters have been with guys that i don't see as...human, for lack of a better word. it's just sex. raw, emotionless, but fucking HOT--sex.
so this all wasn't in vain. as cliche as it sounds, i guess i've pinpointed the problem, and that's the first step to fixing it. so from here on out, i'm only dating guys that i find attractive...and hoping that i don't automatically think of them as vapid pieces of ass. maybe i can learn to have sex with a person instead of a body. now i have to figure out how to snag a date with someone i find attractive. that's tricky.
i think i'll figure that out at 27.
for now, i'll try listening to the lyrics of this song while imagining love and butterflies and all that sweet shit.
while i've learned a thing or two through these adventures, i'm still pretty baffled about how this it's all supposed to work. the most important lesson i've learned, however, is that if i can't picture myself having sex with you, then i probably shouldn't date you. i know, i know...shallow. but i tried dating with no hang ups. i put myself out there and went on dates with guys that would typically make me feel dirty inside and want to take 5 showers in a row--and it didn't work. sure, the majority of these dates were pleasant. entertaining even. but i started to sound like a broken record: "he was really cool. i liked his personality but there's no chemistry." and i'm starting to realize that "no chemistry" is a euphemism for "i think he's really ugly." i can't seem to find the happy medium. when i find someone extremely hot, i don't want him to have a personality or any substance. and when i think the person is ugly, i expect him to have personality for days.
i think the problem is that i'm having a hard time reconciling the idea of a harmonious, commited relationship with the idea of sex. for me, the two can't seem to co-exist. i guess the catholicism is rooted in me because it boils down to the whole "virgin/whore" dichotomy. how can i possibly be sexual and carnal with someone i'm supposed to respect and love? i can't make sense of it. so yeah--i admit--most of my sexual encounters have been with guys that i don't see as...human, for lack of a better word. it's just sex. raw, emotionless, but fucking HOT--sex.
so this all wasn't in vain. as cliche as it sounds, i guess i've pinpointed the problem, and that's the first step to fixing it. so from here on out, i'm only dating guys that i find attractive...and hoping that i don't automatically think of them as vapid pieces of ass. maybe i can learn to have sex with a person instead of a body. now i have to figure out how to snag a date with someone i find attractive. that's tricky.
i think i'll figure that out at 27.
for now, i'll try listening to the lyrics of this song while imagining love and butterflies and all that sweet shit.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
sometimes, it's better that way
a friend sent me this video. i never really like to sit down and watch videos on youtube that last longer than 5 minutes, but this definitely made my day. as i watched the short film, i thought:
1) that's how i feel every morning when i go to work!
2) ooh, he's cute.
3) awh. stop it. i'm gonna vomit, it's so cute.
4) see...sometimes it's easier not to meet people in person first.
it kind of reminded me of online dating. the power of communication. the fact that you don't need face-to-face contact to feel the butterflies.
enjoy.
1) that's how i feel every morning when i go to work!
2) ooh, he's cute.
3) awh. stop it. i'm gonna vomit, it's so cute.
4) see...sometimes it's easier not to meet people in person first.
it kind of reminded me of online dating. the power of communication. the fact that you don't need face-to-face contact to feel the butterflies.
enjoy.
Monday, March 9, 2009
back in the game...thanks to friends
it's been a hot minute since i've gone on a date. i've had a lot of disposable conversations with guys, but nothing even close to semi-interesting. i have a "date" tomorrow. i met this one through mutual friends so it'll definitely be worthwhile to see if i'll enjoy myself. while this could be fun, it could all potentially be very dangerous. what if i don't like him? will my friend be insulted? even worse -- what if i don't like him and then i feel insulted because my good friend set me up with somebody that i didn't mesh with? friends are supposed to know you and they should have the scoop on what makes you tick, when you're sad, how you react in certain situations. if this date is a complete failure, does that mean my friend doesn't know a thing about me? perhaps it means i know exactly what i want and it's all so crystal clear in my head but i'm unable to articulate it to anyone close to me.
either way, i'm just going to enjoy it. i know nothing about this guy. he lives in los feliz and he's really tall. but that's all i know. the mystery is kinda fun.
i was a little scared when i found myself canceling on people. did i give up too soon? i think i just needed a breather. besides -- it's about quality. and i'd like to think that my friends would set me up with a qualified person. the plus side about this date is that if we ever run out of things to talk about, we can just gossip about our mutual friends and eventually become....friends.
but we'll see...
hopefully my friends won't let me down...
either way, i'm just going to enjoy it. i know nothing about this guy. he lives in los feliz and he's really tall. but that's all i know. the mystery is kinda fun.
i was a little scared when i found myself canceling on people. did i give up too soon? i think i just needed a breather. besides -- it's about quality. and i'd like to think that my friends would set me up with a qualified person. the plus side about this date is that if we ever run out of things to talk about, we can just gossip about our mutual friends and eventually become....friends.
but we'll see...
hopefully my friends won't let me down...
Monday, March 2, 2009
the beautiful ones
there are certain guys i refuse to get close to. it's just easier to admire some people from a distance. for me, they tend to be the beautiful ones. those guys that are just ridiculously hot that it starts to hurt a little but you can't keep your eyes off of them because you secretly like the pain -- yeah...you know what i'm talking about. perhaps keeping the distance is a way of keeping my fantasies in tact. there's no way that these guys of hotness have any kind of substance, right? they have to be douche bags. but as i continued to stalk this hot guy on facebook, i felt conflicted and i started to wonder -- am i really keeping my distance because i don't want my perception of them to be interrupted by reality, or am i keeping my distance because i'm afraid that they might potentially have an interesting personality? because that's not fair. these guys can't be painfully gorgeous and have smarts, thoughts, and feelings. absurd! they have to be dumb pieces of hot flesh that serve one purpose...eye candy.
then i felt guilty for stripping these people of their humanity for seeing them merely as bare bodies and flawless faces. they're people too. but when someone is strikingly good looking, it's hard for me to believe that they have anything intelligent to say. maybe this is my way of coping with my own self-esteem issues. if i rationalize in my head that hot guys have to be dumb, then it justifies why i'm not like them -- because duh, i'm smart. does this make me a hater? slightly -- because in a sense i want to bring them down and bring myself up, but at the same time, i'm drooling over their hotness. the most confusing part about all of this, however, is the fact that i can't figure out whether or not i want to be them or if i want to do them. i think i'm coming to the conclusion that maybe it's a mixture of both: i want to be one of these hot guys so that i'd want to do myself. like...masturbating to my own reflection in the mirror (because you know that they secretly do that). if i were one of the beautiful ones -- i don't know what i'd enjoy more -- having sex with someone who is just as hot, or watching myself have sex with someone because i think i'm hot. the vanity is disgusting but strangely intriguing at the same time. the beautiful ones -- they always confuse me
then i felt guilty for stripping these people of their humanity for seeing them merely as bare bodies and flawless faces. they're people too. but when someone is strikingly good looking, it's hard for me to believe that they have anything intelligent to say. maybe this is my way of coping with my own self-esteem issues. if i rationalize in my head that hot guys have to be dumb, then it justifies why i'm not like them -- because duh, i'm smart. does this make me a hater? slightly -- because in a sense i want to bring them down and bring myself up, but at the same time, i'm drooling over their hotness. the most confusing part about all of this, however, is the fact that i can't figure out whether or not i want to be them or if i want to do them. i think i'm coming to the conclusion that maybe it's a mixture of both: i want to be one of these hot guys so that i'd want to do myself. like...masturbating to my own reflection in the mirror (because you know that they secretly do that). if i were one of the beautiful ones -- i don't know what i'd enjoy more -- having sex with someone who is just as hot, or watching myself have sex with someone because i think i'm hot. the vanity is disgusting but strangely intriguing at the same time. the beautiful ones -- they always confuse me
Monday, February 23, 2009
when it stops being fun
i've cancelled/rescheduled 3 dates so far. i'm either starting to lose momentum, or i'm really just not interested. in the beginning i was dating because i thought it was fun. i didn't care who the guy was. green hair. fat face. college drop out. 41 years old. i wasn't discriminating. i suppose i was dating for the sake of dating--making up for lost time. all of 2008 felt like a long period of hibernation and soul searching; wallowing in my own insecurities and fixing them before i could present myself to the world. when 2009 came along i finally felt the surge of confidence that was buried underneath all of the flaws that i magnified. now, i feel confident enough to share myself. and i did. i went on various dates with nothing to lose but plenty to offer. i like to think i'm a great conversationalist. i think i'm funny. i have depth. i am fucking fun to be around.
as i became a serial dater, i started to lose sight of what this was all about. i'm not necessarily dating with the hopes of finding "the one". i'm doing this because i'm young and because i should be meeting people. because it's fun. but most of all, i'm doing all of this to learn a little something about myself. i've learned that i don't have the heart to tell someone "we're just friends." i've learned that i'm interested in finding someone that has interests that are nothing like mine. i've learned that my face is extremely expressive and can't hide behind a smile as much as i thought i could. i'm learning that i get excited very easily and then idealize everything which eventually leads to disappointment. i'm learning that maybe i am still very insecure and the reason i like to keep these guys around (despite having absolutely no interest in them) because it makes me feel superior and wanted. it makes me feel special...yes it's a false sense of entitlement, but i rationalize it by thinking that it's better than the constant nagging in my head that likes to emphasize--"nobody wants me."
as i learn all of this, i realize that i need to step back and reassess the reason i'm dating. it no longer became a learning experience or a lighthearted good time. it became an ego booster. this conquest turned into a way to keep at least 3 guys on my radar at a time. when one would disappear, i'd quickly look for a replacement. i didn't care if the person was ugly, annoyed me, or was blatantly rude -- i wanted the attention.
i'm not going to stop this adventure but i'm going to remind myself that it's about quality. sure, the guy can be unattractive, a college drop out, a bad speller -- but there has to be some kind of quality. something of substance that keeps me interested. the green haired monster -- his hair freaked me out but the conversations we had kept me intrigued. the 20 lbs of bullshit and mr. piano man -- sure they were full of themselves but they gave me butterflies. the 41 year old -- yes he was a perv and wanted to have sex, but i was so enthralled by his life stories. but it stopped being fun when i couldn't find a reason to enjoy it. as i thought about the past few dates that i've cancelled, they all had one common thread -- it felt obligatory. i couldn't picture myself sitting through a meal and faking a laugh when all i really wanted to do was stay at home and have a movie marathon.
i'm learning that when it stops being fun -- i just have to cancel.
as i became a serial dater, i started to lose sight of what this was all about. i'm not necessarily dating with the hopes of finding "the one". i'm doing this because i'm young and because i should be meeting people. because it's fun. but most of all, i'm doing all of this to learn a little something about myself. i've learned that i don't have the heart to tell someone "we're just friends." i've learned that i'm interested in finding someone that has interests that are nothing like mine. i've learned that my face is extremely expressive and can't hide behind a smile as much as i thought i could. i'm learning that i get excited very easily and then idealize everything which eventually leads to disappointment. i'm learning that maybe i am still very insecure and the reason i like to keep these guys around (despite having absolutely no interest in them) because it makes me feel superior and wanted. it makes me feel special...yes it's a false sense of entitlement, but i rationalize it by thinking that it's better than the constant nagging in my head that likes to emphasize--"nobody wants me."
as i learn all of this, i realize that i need to step back and reassess the reason i'm dating. it no longer became a learning experience or a lighthearted good time. it became an ego booster. this conquest turned into a way to keep at least 3 guys on my radar at a time. when one would disappear, i'd quickly look for a replacement. i didn't care if the person was ugly, annoyed me, or was blatantly rude -- i wanted the attention.
i'm not going to stop this adventure but i'm going to remind myself that it's about quality. sure, the guy can be unattractive, a college drop out, a bad speller -- but there has to be some kind of quality. something of substance that keeps me interested. the green haired monster -- his hair freaked me out but the conversations we had kept me intrigued. the 20 lbs of bullshit and mr. piano man -- sure they were full of themselves but they gave me butterflies. the 41 year old -- yes he was a perv and wanted to have sex, but i was so enthralled by his life stories. but it stopped being fun when i couldn't find a reason to enjoy it. as i thought about the past few dates that i've cancelled, they all had one common thread -- it felt obligatory. i couldn't picture myself sitting through a meal and faking a laugh when all i really wanted to do was stay at home and have a movie marathon.
i'm learning that when it stops being fun -- i just have to cancel.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
dismissed
disregard any of the rules i made up in my last entry. silly of me to think that i could discover these "rules" on how to secure a follow up when i'm such a novice at dating. even more annoying -- this "follow up" that i swore i secured, turned out to be a false alarm. when i asked mr. piano man if we were still going to hang out at the piano bar he replied, "sure. if you don't mind hanging out with my friends."
i interpreted this in two different ways. 1) this is all platonic and i just got really excited over the fact that the date we did have had the perfect elements of a romantic date, or 2) the date went so well that he already wants me to meet his friends.
the second one was too idealistic. meeting the friends already? way too soon. but part of me was relieved. i had just come back from the gym and the thought of curling up in bed seemed more appealing than going to a piano bar to socialize with strangers (his friends). i wasn't in the mood to put on the smiley face and pretend i was interested.
DISMISSED.
this all made me wonder about the art of dismissal. my first experience was with mr. 20 lbs when he dismissed me after our first date, telling me he didn't feel the sparks. my second experience was with mr. piano man when he slyly insinuated that whatever we have is a blossoming friendship and nothing more. my third experience was with a guy i never even went on a date with to begin with. i told him the earliest we could hang out was a week from the day we started talking (sorry, i'm a busy guy). he asked me 3 days later if i wanted to have coffee. i told him i was busy. he told me he was giving up and it wasn't gonna work. WOW.
am i wrong to think that two out of three of those were completely out of line? if we're not even invested in each other, i don't think a dismissal is necessary. all you need to do is...STOP CALLING. ignore me. i'll get the picture. i guess verbalizing it makes it quick and easy, like ripping off a band-aid. i suppose ignoring the person can leave room for confusion and a feeling of limbo, but come on...you owe me nothing. i owe you nothing. if you don't like me, there's no need to bruise my ego with a pseudo-break-up line. "this isn't gonna work," "sorry, i just don't feel it." i'd much rather figure it out myself when i realize you're not responding to my phone calls/texts. so kudos to mr. piano man for letting me down easy. thanks for being a gentleman about it and dropping hints like "my friends are coming." i appreciate the courtesy.
although i'm giving up on trying to uncover the "rules" of dating (because the more i think about it, the more i think there are no rules), i do believe there is a proper way to dismiss someone. if you've been dating for a while and there's some kind of foundation--then yes, a conversation is necessary to explain the lack of zsa-zsa-zu. if you went on one date or JUST started talking, the right thing to do is to either 1) ignore the person if you're not interested, or 2) bring friends into the equation. while that can lead to some misinterpretation on the other person's part, a smart person would realize, "OMG friends are in the picture? i get the hint."
thank goodness for friends. they're the ones that will save you from a horrible date with the "emergency phone call" (i.e. "hey, my friend just called and they're stuck on the 101 somewhere so I have to pick them up. so sorry!"). and they're the ones you can use as an excuse to simply imply, "i'm just not that into you."
that my friends, is the lesson i learned after assuming i scored a follow up. class is over. dismissed.
i interpreted this in two different ways. 1) this is all platonic and i just got really excited over the fact that the date we did have had the perfect elements of a romantic date, or 2) the date went so well that he already wants me to meet his friends.
the second one was too idealistic. meeting the friends already? way too soon. but part of me was relieved. i had just come back from the gym and the thought of curling up in bed seemed more appealing than going to a piano bar to socialize with strangers (his friends). i wasn't in the mood to put on the smiley face and pretend i was interested.
DISMISSED.
this all made me wonder about the art of dismissal. my first experience was with mr. 20 lbs when he dismissed me after our first date, telling me he didn't feel the sparks. my second experience was with mr. piano man when he slyly insinuated that whatever we have is a blossoming friendship and nothing more. my third experience was with a guy i never even went on a date with to begin with. i told him the earliest we could hang out was a week from the day we started talking (sorry, i'm a busy guy). he asked me 3 days later if i wanted to have coffee. i told him i was busy. he told me he was giving up and it wasn't gonna work. WOW.
am i wrong to think that two out of three of those were completely out of line? if we're not even invested in each other, i don't think a dismissal is necessary. all you need to do is...STOP CALLING. ignore me. i'll get the picture. i guess verbalizing it makes it quick and easy, like ripping off a band-aid. i suppose ignoring the person can leave room for confusion and a feeling of limbo, but come on...you owe me nothing. i owe you nothing. if you don't like me, there's no need to bruise my ego with a pseudo-break-up line. "this isn't gonna work," "sorry, i just don't feel it." i'd much rather figure it out myself when i realize you're not responding to my phone calls/texts. so kudos to mr. piano man for letting me down easy. thanks for being a gentleman about it and dropping hints like "my friends are coming." i appreciate the courtesy.
although i'm giving up on trying to uncover the "rules" of dating (because the more i think about it, the more i think there are no rules), i do believe there is a proper way to dismiss someone. if you've been dating for a while and there's some kind of foundation--then yes, a conversation is necessary to explain the lack of zsa-zsa-zu. if you went on one date or JUST started talking, the right thing to do is to either 1) ignore the person if you're not interested, or 2) bring friends into the equation. while that can lead to some misinterpretation on the other person's part, a smart person would realize, "OMG friends are in the picture? i get the hint."
thank goodness for friends. they're the ones that will save you from a horrible date with the "emergency phone call" (i.e. "hey, my friend just called and they're stuck on the 101 somewhere so I have to pick them up. so sorry!"). and they're the ones you can use as an excuse to simply imply, "i'm just not that into you."
that my friends, is the lesson i learned after assuming i scored a follow up. class is over. dismissed.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
nows, laters and nevers
i never understood how to handle 'the follow-up'. i remember watching movies and tv shows and hearing about those unspoken rules. (i.e. don't make contact immediately after the date. you must wait at least 3 days.) i never did that. if i liked the person, i couldn't wait to text, call, email, IM...whatever. when i can't get enough, i want it when i want it. and i usually want it right away. but i never thought that was considered a follow-up.
i probably didn't listen to these rules because i haven't dated much. it actually didn't even occur to me that you needed to have a follow up until this past weekend, when i somehow became a dating machine and had 3 different dates lined up. the first one happened on friday night. from his pictures he was cute. absolutely my type. but i didn't feel much of anything. the anticipation didn't build up because the plans were made that same day on a whim. and i didn't even bother being excited about how cute i thought he was because i was prepared to see an extra 20 lbs on him (based on experiences in the past). since he lives in silverlake we decided to walk somewhere. as i walked towards him (2 blocks down), i couldn't help but think i was going to get mugged since the local news had been reporting muggings in the area. i kept looking back thinking, i'm stupid. why did i agree to meet up and walk somewhere? we're gonna get mugged and die. and it's not like either of us can fight. we both look like scrawny kids. unless of course he's 20 lbs heavier, but even then, i don't think he could fight.
when i saw him i was excited to see that he looked like his pictures. even slightly better in person. dinner was great and i found that we had similar interests. i noticed that he'd crack a smile every now and then at my tacky, self-deprecating jokes. and when there were moments of silence, i just admired how cute he was. drooling a little. maybe. after dinner the rain came down hard. (why did we decide to walk? muggings? rain?....this is LA. nobody walks.) as the rain came down harder we retreated under a bus shelter to stay dry. of course when i was just about to enjoy our one-on-one conversation in the rain an old man in a poncho riding a bike joins us under the shelter. i couldn't help but smile and realize how movie-like this all was. date? rain? bus shelter? old man in a poncho? throw it all in a blender and you have the perfect romantic comedy.
when the rain let up we went on our way. he told me plays at a piano bar around the neighborhood. everyone there is 40+ but he enjoys jazz and performing. he asked if i wanted to go. suddenly the rules popped into my head. that would be too eager. we must leave him wanting more. "hm. probably not tonight but i'd definitely like to go someday and see you play."
"i'll be there on wednesday." he said.
"cool. wednesday it is." --- was this real? did i just score a follow-up?! i have a second date! i couldn't wait to get home and squeal like a little girl and call my friends to tell them how giddy i was.
my second date was on sunday for brunch. since friday night was a tough act to follow, i didn't expect much which meant i would be pleasantly surprised. i felt extremely comfortable around him. he seemed like a genuine guy but the butterflies i felt on friday night just weren't there. we talked about birthdays, exes, and our coming out story. i couldn't decide if i thought he was cute or not. he definitely wasn't ugly but there was something missing from the whole thing. it bothered me that i couldn't put my finger on it since it would've been perfect, otherwise. oh well -- i guess some dates just don't have that "oooooh weeeeee" feeling. i didn't score a follow-up. it didn't cross my mind. it wasn't until 2 days later that he called me and asked when he'd see me again. OH. i guess he wanted one. i wasn't opposed to it, but i wasn't anxious to make any future plans. but since he initiated it, i was open to it.
the third date was a disaster. (2 outta 3 ain't bad, i guess). i never like to think too much about what i'll wear on a date, but i think i do a good job of looking presentable. so tell me why homie decided to roll up in some cargo shorts, dirty tennis shoes, socks up to his knees, a faded blue hoodie, and a tacky jacket over it. as we walked side by side i couldn't help but wonder what people must be thinking about us. we were an odd pair. since we were at the grove i hoped that no one i knew would see me. why the hell did i wear an orange jacket?!
to top it all off he had no job. and i understand that in this economy, jobs are hard to come by, but he seemed completely content with being unemployed. conversation was horrible and there was a LOT of silence. i felt like i was pulling teeth. when things like this happen, i immediately go into competitive mode. i wanted to win. (i don't know why i turn situations like this into competitions) but that meant, he couldn't get the best of me with his silence. i was going to keep asking him questions and kill him with kindness. after about 20 minutes of asking questions and getting absolutely nothing...i gave up. "are you bored?" i asked, sounding annoyed.
"no. i'm just quiet sometimes."
uh...no shit stupid.
"okaaaaaay." that's it. i was done. i quit. i wanna go home!
"it's nothing against you. i just get quiet."
i didn't respond. HA! two can play this game.
more silence. then i asked him something that had been bothering me. "So if you don't have a job...how do you pay for rent?"
"Oh. i got that covered."
hm. he's from the bronx and said he had a rough upbringing so that ruled out living off mommy and daddy. he was either a male prostitute or a drug dealer. i couldn't wait to get rid of this guy. i wanted to jump in the shower and wash off every memory i had of him. i wanted to erase that outfit from my head. the silences. gross. i felt wretched from all of this.
---------------------------------------
i learned more about the rules of 'the follow-up.' rule #1. if there's interest and chemistry, secure the follow-up when you're ON the date. that leaves you something to look forward to and enough to remind you that the date was successful (because after dates, i tend to overanalyze and wonder...so was that a good one? there was chemistry, right?) securing 'the follow-up' right away alleviates that anxiety. rule #2. if you're not interested but you had fun, don't make a follow-up unless he wants to. if he asks for one, you realize you're fun and irresistable. and rule #3. if the date is a disaster. RUN. never follow up. never look back. never think about it ever again.
although i ended my weekend on a bad note with a horrible date, i have tomorrow to look forward to. :)
i probably didn't listen to these rules because i haven't dated much. it actually didn't even occur to me that you needed to have a follow up until this past weekend, when i somehow became a dating machine and had 3 different dates lined up. the first one happened on friday night. from his pictures he was cute. absolutely my type. but i didn't feel much of anything. the anticipation didn't build up because the plans were made that same day on a whim. and i didn't even bother being excited about how cute i thought he was because i was prepared to see an extra 20 lbs on him (based on experiences in the past). since he lives in silverlake we decided to walk somewhere. as i walked towards him (2 blocks down), i couldn't help but think i was going to get mugged since the local news had been reporting muggings in the area. i kept looking back thinking, i'm stupid. why did i agree to meet up and walk somewhere? we're gonna get mugged and die. and it's not like either of us can fight. we both look like scrawny kids. unless of course he's 20 lbs heavier, but even then, i don't think he could fight.
when i saw him i was excited to see that he looked like his pictures. even slightly better in person. dinner was great and i found that we had similar interests. i noticed that he'd crack a smile every now and then at my tacky, self-deprecating jokes. and when there were moments of silence, i just admired how cute he was. drooling a little. maybe. after dinner the rain came down hard. (why did we decide to walk? muggings? rain?....this is LA. nobody walks.) as the rain came down harder we retreated under a bus shelter to stay dry. of course when i was just about to enjoy our one-on-one conversation in the rain an old man in a poncho riding a bike joins us under the shelter. i couldn't help but smile and realize how movie-like this all was. date? rain? bus shelter? old man in a poncho? throw it all in a blender and you have the perfect romantic comedy.
when the rain let up we went on our way. he told me plays at a piano bar around the neighborhood. everyone there is 40+ but he enjoys jazz and performing. he asked if i wanted to go. suddenly the rules popped into my head. that would be too eager. we must leave him wanting more. "hm. probably not tonight but i'd definitely like to go someday and see you play."
"i'll be there on wednesday." he said.
"cool. wednesday it is." --- was this real? did i just score a follow-up?! i have a second date! i couldn't wait to get home and squeal like a little girl and call my friends to tell them how giddy i was.
my second date was on sunday for brunch. since friday night was a tough act to follow, i didn't expect much which meant i would be pleasantly surprised. i felt extremely comfortable around him. he seemed like a genuine guy but the butterflies i felt on friday night just weren't there. we talked about birthdays, exes, and our coming out story. i couldn't decide if i thought he was cute or not. he definitely wasn't ugly but there was something missing from the whole thing. it bothered me that i couldn't put my finger on it since it would've been perfect, otherwise. oh well -- i guess some dates just don't have that "oooooh weeeeee" feeling. i didn't score a follow-up. it didn't cross my mind. it wasn't until 2 days later that he called me and asked when he'd see me again. OH. i guess he wanted one. i wasn't opposed to it, but i wasn't anxious to make any future plans. but since he initiated it, i was open to it.
the third date was a disaster. (2 outta 3 ain't bad, i guess). i never like to think too much about what i'll wear on a date, but i think i do a good job of looking presentable. so tell me why homie decided to roll up in some cargo shorts, dirty tennis shoes, socks up to his knees, a faded blue hoodie, and a tacky jacket over it. as we walked side by side i couldn't help but wonder what people must be thinking about us. we were an odd pair. since we were at the grove i hoped that no one i knew would see me. why the hell did i wear an orange jacket?!
to top it all off he had no job. and i understand that in this economy, jobs are hard to come by, but he seemed completely content with being unemployed. conversation was horrible and there was a LOT of silence. i felt like i was pulling teeth. when things like this happen, i immediately go into competitive mode. i wanted to win. (i don't know why i turn situations like this into competitions) but that meant, he couldn't get the best of me with his silence. i was going to keep asking him questions and kill him with kindness. after about 20 minutes of asking questions and getting absolutely nothing...i gave up. "are you bored?" i asked, sounding annoyed.
"no. i'm just quiet sometimes."
uh...no shit stupid.
"okaaaaaay." that's it. i was done. i quit. i wanna go home!
"it's nothing against you. i just get quiet."
i didn't respond. HA! two can play this game.
more silence. then i asked him something that had been bothering me. "So if you don't have a job...how do you pay for rent?"
"Oh. i got that covered."
hm. he's from the bronx and said he had a rough upbringing so that ruled out living off mommy and daddy. he was either a male prostitute or a drug dealer. i couldn't wait to get rid of this guy. i wanted to jump in the shower and wash off every memory i had of him. i wanted to erase that outfit from my head. the silences. gross. i felt wretched from all of this.
---------------------------------------
i learned more about the rules of 'the follow-up.' rule #1. if there's interest and chemistry, secure the follow-up when you're ON the date. that leaves you something to look forward to and enough to remind you that the date was successful (because after dates, i tend to overanalyze and wonder...so was that a good one? there was chemistry, right?) securing 'the follow-up' right away alleviates that anxiety. rule #2. if you're not interested but you had fun, don't make a follow-up unless he wants to. if he asks for one, you realize you're fun and irresistable. and rule #3. if the date is a disaster. RUN. never follow up. never look back. never think about it ever again.
although i ended my weekend on a bad note with a horrible date, i have tomorrow to look forward to. :)
Monday, February 2, 2009
20 lbs of Bullshit
i was really excited for this one. because he was cute. (FINALLY! a cute one!) he was an upgrade from the nice (but unattractive) guys that provided me with semi-stimulating conversations because he was a CUTE nice guy! although he lacked in the 'semi-stimulating conversation department', i was willing to overlook that little mishap and just concentrate on his handsome face.
but a few things started to get on my nerves. he'd mix up 'your' and 'you're' and 'too' and 'to'. hmm. he went to fashion school, that's why. and as an english major, i just find it very careless, lazy, and stupid when you can't differentiate these words. to be passive aggressive i told him that my pet peeve was when people spell things wrong and mix up 'your' and 'you're' and the like. "uh oh. i think that might be me." he replied sounding slightly apologetic. +10 points for acknowledging it! it's okay! you're cute. somewhere down the road i'll teach you the difference!
the phone calls full of mushy gushy conversation that would normally make me vomit. the cutesy texts that made me feel important and wanted. i'd think this can't be good. when i fall this fast, it always ends up like a firecracker that turns out to be a dud. light it with excitement, watch it sparkle for a second, then it fizzles into disappointment. but FUCK it! he thought i was sexy! he sent me cute texts. he made me feel wanted. i didn't care if we hadn't met yet. i'd deal with that situation when the time came. at this point, i'm all about honoring the feelings i feel at the moment and not being apologetic about it. i enjoyed this shit to the maximum.
we met for brunch in old town pasadena. i got there before him so i wandered alone. butterflies. i felt them. i hadn't felt them in ages. he told me to meet him by kenneth cole. i stood by the street light trying to position myself so that i'd have a cool stance and he'd see me looking so calm, collected, and...sexy. should i cross my arms? no too defensive. hands in the pocket? sure, that's cool. tilt the head up a little? maybe but it might be a little cocky. smile? no. pensive look. yes. hands on hip. no way, too gay.
"hey there!" he exclaimed. i turned around trying to look nonchalant. and then--what the fuck?! this is not the person i saw on his profile. this guy was 20 lbs heavier with a double chin and a gut. this wasn't the chiseled, handsome guy i was waiting for. BUT -- it's okay. he goes to the gym. he'll lose it and there's a reasonable explanation as to why he let himself get like this. after all, i'm not shallow. he's still...great? even though he spells things wrong and our conversations were extremely forgettable he was...great...?
okay i take it back. he was boring. boring as fuck. he didn't understand my dry, intelligent, witty humor. he was vapid. i asked about his coming out story and those are usually full of emotions, depth, and insight to someone's soul but his story was more boring than my atmospheric science lectures in college. i still tried to stay positive. mostly by imagining him 20 lbs lighter. if he loses 20 lbs, i can just drown out what he has to say and then have sex with him all the time. it'll be the perfect relationship.
although the date wasn't what i would call a success, it wasn't a complete failure. i even decided that a second date would be somewhere in the near future. after all, i liked the way he made me feel. he sent me cute texts. he made me feel wanted. he told me i was sexy.
two days after our date, he texted me 'good morning' and i flirtatiously texted back, 'miss me yet?' he replied about 15 minutes later with 'nick, i don't think i can just have a fuck buddy. let's face it that's the level we connect on. i just don't feel it. i don't want to waste my time or yours."
....................................................................????
--STOP THE TRACK! LET ME STATE FACTS --
1) fuck buddy? when did we start fucking? and how is that the only level we connected on if we haven't fucked yet?
2) we went on one date! and you're dumping me?!
3) YOU'RE A LIAR! YOUR PICS ARE PROBABLY FROM 2003 AND NOW YOU'RE FAT!
4) i am the best thing that will ever happen to you! i am such a catch and you were too busy scratching your fat ass to notice!
5) it wasn't supposed to end this way. i was supposed to win!!! i call the shots! i tell you when i'm done and when you can leave! you speak when spoken to and only with permission! how dare you!
i had to collect myself. stay composed. i was at work after all. just open an excel spreadsheet and you'll be fine. no one will know anything. but FUCK...he's dismissing me?! i had to think of a reply. i wanted so desperately to try to fix it. at this point it wasn't even because i wanted to date him anymore, but because i had to win!!! because i had to make him want me again so i could flip the switch and dismiss HIM! the way it was supposed to happen. somehow my universe had been turned upside down and i was powerless. this lying, uneducated, vapid fat fuck just dissed me? ME?! partna, partna i was gonna upgrade you. i was gonna teach you how to spell. i was gonna help you lose the double chin you somehow managed to develop. i was gonna mold you into the perfect boyfriend.
(i tend to get irrational and really conceited when i'm angry.)
i got up for some coffee and thought about my reply. "okay. good luck." short and sweet. no need for something malicious. no need for a sly comeback that would cut to the bone. because honestly, would he even get it? it would probably just bounce off of that rubbery head of his and fall flat on the ground. and my genuis comeback would be on the pavement amongst old gum, some tar, and a few fallen pennies. i didn't want him anyway. i wanted the illusion. it felt good. but i guess he was right. it would've been a complete waste of time. i just wanted to enjoy it for what it was worth but looking back on it, it's probably better that he took it all away from me before i could become an addict. so he can take his fashion school degree, and his boring coming out story, and his 20 extra pounds and walk away. thanks for reminding me that i deserve more than you could ever offer.
but a few things started to get on my nerves. he'd mix up 'your' and 'you're' and 'too' and 'to'. hmm. he went to fashion school, that's why. and as an english major, i just find it very careless, lazy, and stupid when you can't differentiate these words. to be passive aggressive i told him that my pet peeve was when people spell things wrong and mix up 'your' and 'you're' and the like. "uh oh. i think that might be me." he replied sounding slightly apologetic. +10 points for acknowledging it! it's okay! you're cute. somewhere down the road i'll teach you the difference!
the phone calls full of mushy gushy conversation that would normally make me vomit. the cutesy texts that made me feel important and wanted. i'd think this can't be good. when i fall this fast, it always ends up like a firecracker that turns out to be a dud. light it with excitement, watch it sparkle for a second, then it fizzles into disappointment. but FUCK it! he thought i was sexy! he sent me cute texts. he made me feel wanted. i didn't care if we hadn't met yet. i'd deal with that situation when the time came. at this point, i'm all about honoring the feelings i feel at the moment and not being apologetic about it. i enjoyed this shit to the maximum.
we met for brunch in old town pasadena. i got there before him so i wandered alone. butterflies. i felt them. i hadn't felt them in ages. he told me to meet him by kenneth cole. i stood by the street light trying to position myself so that i'd have a cool stance and he'd see me looking so calm, collected, and...sexy. should i cross my arms? no too defensive. hands in the pocket? sure, that's cool. tilt the head up a little? maybe but it might be a little cocky. smile? no. pensive look. yes. hands on hip. no way, too gay.
"hey there!" he exclaimed. i turned around trying to look nonchalant. and then--what the fuck?! this is not the person i saw on his profile. this guy was 20 lbs heavier with a double chin and a gut. this wasn't the chiseled, handsome guy i was waiting for. BUT -- it's okay. he goes to the gym. he'll lose it and there's a reasonable explanation as to why he let himself get like this. after all, i'm not shallow. he's still...great? even though he spells things wrong and our conversations were extremely forgettable he was...great...?
okay i take it back. he was boring. boring as fuck. he didn't understand my dry, intelligent, witty humor. he was vapid. i asked about his coming out story and those are usually full of emotions, depth, and insight to someone's soul but his story was more boring than my atmospheric science lectures in college. i still tried to stay positive. mostly by imagining him 20 lbs lighter. if he loses 20 lbs, i can just drown out what he has to say and then have sex with him all the time. it'll be the perfect relationship.
although the date wasn't what i would call a success, it wasn't a complete failure. i even decided that a second date would be somewhere in the near future. after all, i liked the way he made me feel. he sent me cute texts. he made me feel wanted. he told me i was sexy.
two days after our date, he texted me 'good morning' and i flirtatiously texted back, 'miss me yet?' he replied about 15 minutes later with 'nick, i don't think i can just have a fuck buddy. let's face it that's the level we connect on. i just don't feel it. i don't want to waste my time or yours."
....................................................................????
--STOP THE TRACK! LET ME STATE FACTS --
1) fuck buddy? when did we start fucking? and how is that the only level we connected on if we haven't fucked yet?
2) we went on one date! and you're dumping me?!
3) YOU'RE A LIAR! YOUR PICS ARE PROBABLY FROM 2003 AND NOW YOU'RE FAT!
4) i am the best thing that will ever happen to you! i am such a catch and you were too busy scratching your fat ass to notice!
5) it wasn't supposed to end this way. i was supposed to win!!! i call the shots! i tell you when i'm done and when you can leave! you speak when spoken to and only with permission! how dare you!
i had to collect myself. stay composed. i was at work after all. just open an excel spreadsheet and you'll be fine. no one will know anything. but FUCK...he's dismissing me?! i had to think of a reply. i wanted so desperately to try to fix it. at this point it wasn't even because i wanted to date him anymore, but because i had to win!!! because i had to make him want me again so i could flip the switch and dismiss HIM! the way it was supposed to happen. somehow my universe had been turned upside down and i was powerless. this lying, uneducated, vapid fat fuck just dissed me? ME?! partna, partna i was gonna upgrade you. i was gonna teach you how to spell. i was gonna help you lose the double chin you somehow managed to develop. i was gonna mold you into the perfect boyfriend.
(i tend to get irrational and really conceited when i'm angry.)
i got up for some coffee and thought about my reply. "okay. good luck." short and sweet. no need for something malicious. no need for a sly comeback that would cut to the bone. because honestly, would he even get it? it would probably just bounce off of that rubbery head of his and fall flat on the ground. and my genuis comeback would be on the pavement amongst old gum, some tar, and a few fallen pennies. i didn't want him anyway. i wanted the illusion. it felt good. but i guess he was right. it would've been a complete waste of time. i just wanted to enjoy it for what it was worth but looking back on it, it's probably better that he took it all away from me before i could become an addict. so he can take his fashion school degree, and his boring coming out story, and his 20 extra pounds and walk away. thanks for reminding me that i deserve more than you could ever offer.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
"fuck this, this can't be my life. i moisturized 10 times tonight"
that's the key to having it all: stop expecting it to look like what you thought it was going to look like. It's true of the fall lines, and it's true of relationships. - sex and the city, 'plus one is the loneliest number'
maybe he doesn't exist. perhaps i've set the standard so high that even if i did meet 'the one' (if 'the one' is even real), i wouldn't know it because i'll be too busy expecting my idea of perfection to come knocking at my door at any minute. it's ironic because in my definition of 'the perfect one', he's flawed. but in a beautiful way. the way all human beings are flawed. geez...even my concept of 'the perfect one' has the perfect flaws.
i hate the labels. i hate the types. the hipster gays. the we ho gays. the straight-acting gays, the flamey gays. the thug gays. the artsy gays. i don't want a prototype, i want a person. but i contradict myself by conceptualizing what this person is supposed to be like. i guess in a sense i've created my own prototype.
i always struggle to find the words to describe what i'd like in a partner. it's evolved from "i kinda want someone like me, but not me," to "handsome face, witty, smart, my height or taller, has a boyish charm about him," because the first description was too vague and people would just give me blank stares as if i were supposed to elaborate a bit more. come on...how hard is it to picture me with someone who is like me that isn't exactly like me? i guess in my head it all makes sense. but when i give the more thorough description with adjectives like "handsome," "witty," and "boyish charm," i feel like i'm not doing any justice to what i'm actually envisioning. and maybe that's the problem. maybe i need to stop envisioning what it's supposed to look like and just...close my eyes and let it all happen organically.
it's so hard to not get jaded and cynical about it. 'he's not out there. i'm so over it. i'm just gonna be single.' i'll come home from trader joe's or ralphs with a trunk full of grocery bags and try my best to carry all of them in one trip. after i set them all down on the kitchen counter, i take a breather and think, 'get used to this. it might be the rest of your life.' and when i think things like that, i immediately follow it up with, 'well...you're still young. don't put ideas like that out into the universe.'
at night i retreat to my room...alone. i think about how my roommates are coupled. jo and kev, 3 (maybe 4?) years strong. jasmine and her boy, new and fresh. the new tenants moving in downstairs...a couple.
then there's me...and my body pillow. i leave the TV on when i sleep so that i feel like there's someone there with me. i'm not afraid of being alone. i just don't like being lonely. will i choose loneliness over company just because my criteria isn't being met? do i have too much pride? if love doesn't come in the form that i want it to come in, will i just dispose of it? and why the fuck do i think about it so much? lately, i feel like it's taken over the world. everywhere i look...LOVE.
am i crazy because i want it to be a certain way? (aaaaaand play video)
love is in the air and everyone is inhaling it deep into their lungs...i'm still holding my breath.
maybe he doesn't exist. perhaps i've set the standard so high that even if i did meet 'the one' (if 'the one' is even real), i wouldn't know it because i'll be too busy expecting my idea of perfection to come knocking at my door at any minute. it's ironic because in my definition of 'the perfect one', he's flawed. but in a beautiful way. the way all human beings are flawed. geez...even my concept of 'the perfect one' has the perfect flaws.
i hate the labels. i hate the types. the hipster gays. the we ho gays. the straight-acting gays, the flamey gays. the thug gays. the artsy gays. i don't want a prototype, i want a person. but i contradict myself by conceptualizing what this person is supposed to be like. i guess in a sense i've created my own prototype.
i always struggle to find the words to describe what i'd like in a partner. it's evolved from "i kinda want someone like me, but not me," to "handsome face, witty, smart, my height or taller, has a boyish charm about him," because the first description was too vague and people would just give me blank stares as if i were supposed to elaborate a bit more. come on...how hard is it to picture me with someone who is like me that isn't exactly like me? i guess in my head it all makes sense. but when i give the more thorough description with adjectives like "handsome," "witty," and "boyish charm," i feel like i'm not doing any justice to what i'm actually envisioning. and maybe that's the problem. maybe i need to stop envisioning what it's supposed to look like and just...close my eyes and let it all happen organically.
it's so hard to not get jaded and cynical about it. 'he's not out there. i'm so over it. i'm just gonna be single.' i'll come home from trader joe's or ralphs with a trunk full of grocery bags and try my best to carry all of them in one trip. after i set them all down on the kitchen counter, i take a breather and think, 'get used to this. it might be the rest of your life.' and when i think things like that, i immediately follow it up with, 'well...you're still young. don't put ideas like that out into the universe.'
at night i retreat to my room...alone. i think about how my roommates are coupled. jo and kev, 3 (maybe 4?) years strong. jasmine and her boy, new and fresh. the new tenants moving in downstairs...a couple.
then there's me...and my body pillow. i leave the TV on when i sleep so that i feel like there's someone there with me. i'm not afraid of being alone. i just don't like being lonely. will i choose loneliness over company just because my criteria isn't being met? do i have too much pride? if love doesn't come in the form that i want it to come in, will i just dispose of it? and why the fuck do i think about it so much? lately, i feel like it's taken over the world. everywhere i look...LOVE.
am i crazy because i want it to be a certain way? (aaaaaand play video)
love is in the air and everyone is inhaling it deep into their lungs...i'm still holding my breath.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
the green haired monster vs. the green eyed lover
he's a hair artist. (how that's different from a hair stylist? i'm not quite sure.) he messaged me on okcupid. i looked at his profile and made up my mind that his green hair with the weird spiderweb design on the sides just wasn't to my liking. so i ignored him. but he was persistent and sent me another message. for shits and giggles i actually responded. as i wrote my generic response, i caught myself. i was supposed to be open about dating. bald, old, fat, shy...whatever. i was doing this dating thing to meet people, have fun, and possibly learn a little something about my preferences and what i can and cannot take.
we got to talking and he actually grew on me. he seemed playful and witty and kept my attention. he's was born in the philippines. moved to the united states when he was 5. he used to dance on a hip-hop team at cal state northridge. "let's be perfectly honest for a moment," i told him, "tell me your impression of me based on my profile. then i'll tell you what i thought about yours. no sugar coating." his answer didn't satisfy me. he told me he liked my smile and thought i was funny. i rolled my eyes and let him have it. "well, honestly, i looked at your profile and thought we wouldn't get along. i thought you were one of those scenester kids who has funky hair and a distinct sense of style and has a certain preference in pretentious indie music. i was so ready to dismiss you. you'd never get along with me. a guy who indulges in top 40, watches reality show trash, and has a corporate job. i just thought we'd never mesh. but i'm pleasantly surprised."
when we hung out i felt comfortable around him. i was at ease with the conversation but i couldn't bring myself to look at him. green hair. green hair. he has green hair. was all that crossed my mind.
i'm trying really hard to be open. to stop passing judgement so quickly. i think it's fair to say that in this situation, i was open. i hung out with the guy. we had a nice encounter. but i just can't bring myself to overlook the green hair. i typically prefer a clean cut, handsome kinda guy with a touch of funky style. he wasn't it. although he didn't fit that mold i kept texting and calling him. i had to wonder why. maybe it gave me a sense of comfort knowing someone was interested in me and i had to hold on to it. maybe i thought that if i kept on hanging out with him, i'd start to like him. i could overlook the green hair and i'd find him attractive as i learned more about him. maybe?
but the green haired guy doesn't stand a chance against the intriguing aquarius. extremely adorable, endearing, witty and sooo fucking handsome (at least to me). i messaged him first. he used big words in his profile and as a self-proclaimed lover of words, i decided to tell him how much i loved his profile because of his vast vocabulary (although i honestly didn't understand the majority of what he was saying. and i guess the real reason i messaged him was because i thought he was cute.) i love the fact that he's a total geek. on a typical friday night he's playing video games or reading a book (not just any book...sci-fi!) i know!?!?! what the fuck? the fact that he's so different from me in that sense is what i found most attractive. he's half filipino, half scandinavian (HOT!!!). he used to be a chubby kid. he has beautiful green eyes. he makes me...melt. but he's in san francisco. :(
i quickly started crushing on this guy (despite the distance). i wanted to know every piece of information about him. his sibling's names. his birthday. what he ate for lunch. what his work out schedule was. "you're so cute sometimes, nick." he said to me when i jokingly told him i'd move to san francisco if i had a good reason to *wink*. and after that, i was putty in his hands. "i like you," he continued, "there's depth to you. that's rare in people." i ate up the sweet talk faster than a fat kid eats ice cream.
but while our conversations were fun and i went ga-ga over the fact that i wanted to rip his clothes off, he started to act so aloof and inattentive. he wouldn't answer my calls or respond to my texts. i was livid. but all of that aside, i'm still so stuck on this guy. perhaps i've idealized him (like i always do).
it made me have a 'sex and the city' moment because as i lay in bed thinking about the men i've encountered, i started to wonder: how many imperfect encounters must we go through until the person becomes perfect? maybe this green haired monster will never be to my liking. maybe i draw the line at green hair and spiderweb designs on the side of a person's head. i'm no longer pursuing anything with the green haired monster but i still have hope for the green eyed lover. i'm a fool, aren't i? the guy is in san francisco and doesn't even answer my phone calls. maybe i'm really only in this for the chase?
we got to talking and he actually grew on me. he seemed playful and witty and kept my attention. he's was born in the philippines. moved to the united states when he was 5. he used to dance on a hip-hop team at cal state northridge. "let's be perfectly honest for a moment," i told him, "tell me your impression of me based on my profile. then i'll tell you what i thought about yours. no sugar coating." his answer didn't satisfy me. he told me he liked my smile and thought i was funny. i rolled my eyes and let him have it. "well, honestly, i looked at your profile and thought we wouldn't get along. i thought you were one of those scenester kids who has funky hair and a distinct sense of style and has a certain preference in pretentious indie music. i was so ready to dismiss you. you'd never get along with me. a guy who indulges in top 40, watches reality show trash, and has a corporate job. i just thought we'd never mesh. but i'm pleasantly surprised."
when we hung out i felt comfortable around him. i was at ease with the conversation but i couldn't bring myself to look at him. green hair. green hair. he has green hair. was all that crossed my mind.
i'm trying really hard to be open. to stop passing judgement so quickly. i think it's fair to say that in this situation, i was open. i hung out with the guy. we had a nice encounter. but i just can't bring myself to overlook the green hair. i typically prefer a clean cut, handsome kinda guy with a touch of funky style. he wasn't it. although he didn't fit that mold i kept texting and calling him. i had to wonder why. maybe it gave me a sense of comfort knowing someone was interested in me and i had to hold on to it. maybe i thought that if i kept on hanging out with him, i'd start to like him. i could overlook the green hair and i'd find him attractive as i learned more about him. maybe?
but the green haired guy doesn't stand a chance against the intriguing aquarius. extremely adorable, endearing, witty and sooo fucking handsome (at least to me). i messaged him first. he used big words in his profile and as a self-proclaimed lover of words, i decided to tell him how much i loved his profile because of his vast vocabulary (although i honestly didn't understand the majority of what he was saying. and i guess the real reason i messaged him was because i thought he was cute.) i love the fact that he's a total geek. on a typical friday night he's playing video games or reading a book (not just any book...sci-fi!) i know!?!?! what the fuck? the fact that he's so different from me in that sense is what i found most attractive. he's half filipino, half scandinavian (HOT!!!). he used to be a chubby kid. he has beautiful green eyes. he makes me...melt. but he's in san francisco. :(
i quickly started crushing on this guy (despite the distance). i wanted to know every piece of information about him. his sibling's names. his birthday. what he ate for lunch. what his work out schedule was. "you're so cute sometimes, nick." he said to me when i jokingly told him i'd move to san francisco if i had a good reason to *wink*. and after that, i was putty in his hands. "i like you," he continued, "there's depth to you. that's rare in people." i ate up the sweet talk faster than a fat kid eats ice cream.
but while our conversations were fun and i went ga-ga over the fact that i wanted to rip his clothes off, he started to act so aloof and inattentive. he wouldn't answer my calls or respond to my texts. i was livid. but all of that aside, i'm still so stuck on this guy. perhaps i've idealized him (like i always do).
it made me have a 'sex and the city' moment because as i lay in bed thinking about the men i've encountered, i started to wonder: how many imperfect encounters must we go through until the person becomes perfect? maybe this green haired monster will never be to my liking. maybe i draw the line at green hair and spiderweb designs on the side of a person's head. i'm no longer pursuing anything with the green haired monster but i still have hope for the green eyed lover. i'm a fool, aren't i? the guy is in san francisco and doesn't even answer my phone calls. maybe i'm really only in this for the chase?
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Housewife
I secretly wish someone would just whip me into shape and train me. On certain nights, I really want to be domesticated. The ‘going out’ thing gets so redundant sometimes but it’s all I know. I’ve conditioned myself to think that no matter how tired, lazy, ‘over it’, I really am, once Friday night creeps up, I feel the need to go out, have a drink, and party. Stay in on a Friday night? Perish the thought. It just doesn’t exist in my head. My brain doesn’t have the capacity to understand that concept. I’ve tried it a few times. I tell myself I’m going to have a lazy Friday night and watch a movie or read a book. I end up checking the clock religiously. Once 9:00pm hits, I’m on the phone with my friends figuring out where we should go. We spend a few minutes trying to decide where we’ll party the night away. It usually goes something like this:
"So where should we go tonight? I wanna dance."
“I'm down for whatever but I don't want to pay cover.”
“Me either. Oh..and I don’t want to wait in a line.”
“Well what are the girls doing tonight?”
“They’re going to do something ‘straight’ cuz they’re getting sick of the gayness.”
“Um. Oh. I hate ‘straight’ spots. Strike 1, pay cover. Strike 2, wait in line. Strike 3, nobody there wants us.”
“Exactly. So We Ho again?”
“Ugh. I’m so sick of We Ho though. We could try Silverlake?”
“We could. But what’s Akbar playing tonight? Is the music good?”
“I don’t know. It’s usually hit or miss. Sometimes they play that weird indie shit that I can’t dance to.”
“Fuck! But I wanna dance to Beyonce. Okay let’s just go to We Ho.”
“Okay. Fiesta for 2-for-1 drinks then Popstarz?”
“Yup. I’ll be at your place in 10 minutes. You drive. Thanks!”
Once we arrive, I’m not necessarily on the prowl. Of course it’s fun to look, but after a while, they all start to look like carbon copies of the We Ho prototype. Good looking, tight shirt, tight jeans…and…white. *YAWN*
We walk by the bars and hear the “dunch, dunch, dunch” of the techno music from The Abbey piercing the night. We roll our eyes and say, “UGH. I hate the ‘dunch dunch’ music. Ew. And look at the line. Who waits in line for a bar? Everyone in there is ugly!”
We drink enough so that we’re comfortably buzzed but not excessively drunk. Just enough to help us believe we’re the best thing that ever happened to this world. (Alcohol definitely boosts the confidence).
We dance. We laugh. We eat. We sleep. Repeat. I’ve memorized how this works already.
I’m not saying I want to give up the nightlife. I enjoy it too much. (For whatever reason, I don’t know.) But on certain nights…I wish I could just do the things this guy says in this song, appropriately titled, "Housewife":
He's the guy from the movie, "Shortbus." He plays Ceth...which is "Seth, with a 'C'." I wanna be his housewife. But we haven't met yet.
"So where should we go tonight? I wanna dance."
“I'm down for whatever but I don't want to pay cover.”
“Me either. Oh..and I don’t want to wait in a line.”
“Well what are the girls doing tonight?”
“They’re going to do something ‘straight’ cuz they’re getting sick of the gayness.”
“Um. Oh. I hate ‘straight’ spots. Strike 1, pay cover. Strike 2, wait in line. Strike 3, nobody there wants us.”
“Exactly. So We Ho again?”
“Ugh. I’m so sick of We Ho though. We could try Silverlake?”
“We could. But what’s Akbar playing tonight? Is the music good?”
“I don’t know. It’s usually hit or miss. Sometimes they play that weird indie shit that I can’t dance to.”
“Fuck! But I wanna dance to Beyonce. Okay let’s just go to We Ho.”
“Okay. Fiesta for 2-for-1 drinks then Popstarz?”
“Yup. I’ll be at your place in 10 minutes. You drive. Thanks!”
Once we arrive, I’m not necessarily on the prowl. Of course it’s fun to look, but after a while, they all start to look like carbon copies of the We Ho prototype. Good looking, tight shirt, tight jeans…and…white. *YAWN*
We walk by the bars and hear the “dunch, dunch, dunch” of the techno music from The Abbey piercing the night. We roll our eyes and say, “UGH. I hate the ‘dunch dunch’ music. Ew. And look at the line. Who waits in line for a bar? Everyone in there is ugly!”
We drink enough so that we’re comfortably buzzed but not excessively drunk. Just enough to help us believe we’re the best thing that ever happened to this world. (Alcohol definitely boosts the confidence).
We dance. We laugh. We eat. We sleep. Repeat. I’ve memorized how this works already.
I’m not saying I want to give up the nightlife. I enjoy it too much. (For whatever reason, I don’t know.) But on certain nights…I wish I could just do the things this guy says in this song, appropriately titled, "Housewife":
He's the guy from the movie, "Shortbus." He plays Ceth...which is "Seth, with a 'C'." I wanna be his housewife. But we haven't met yet.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
say cheese
that old cliche, "a picture is worth a thousand words" is so appropriate when i see some of the pictures that people post on these dating sites. except most of these pictures are only saying 3 words: "i'm - kinda - lame." is a bathroom picture really necessary? you know...the ones where you're holding your camera (or if you're cool enough, your iPhone) up as you stand in front of the mirror and take a picture of yourself. it just looks silly. what did you do? take a dump and feel a sense of accomplishment so you decided to document the event by taking a picture of your reflection? because if that's what you did, then i guess a bathroom picture makes sense. and god-forbid you actually smile because that would be so uncool. so you have to put on this semi-sexy look that screams i know you wanna fuck me or this 'hardcore' look where you tilt your head back and you have this smirk on your face that says i'm so cool it hurts. cuz to me, it just looks like you're constipated.
but the pictures that really make me laugh are the ones i like to call 'the money shot'. this is where the person extends their arm over their head and then looks up at the camera . it kinda just looks like they're staring up at you before you cum on their face. i guess certain people just look more attractive when you're looking down at them. but really...what is so disgusting on your body that you can't take a normal picture that includes a clear shot of your torso?
i try not to be so dismissive when i see these pictures but when i see them i get the impression that the person is really vain. you have to love yourself a lot..like A LOT...to walk into the bathroom with your phone and just stand in front of the mirror striking various poses as you take pictures of yourself. i always thought of the bathroom as a place to either brush your teeth, take a shower, or use the toilet. and sometimes, to have sex. but to take a picture of yourself? and as far as 'the money shot,' -- it really makes me laugh because i keep imagining what the person would look like if they got a load in their eye. i know...bad.
can't people just stand up straight and smile? it'd feel more genuine and less self-indulgent.
but the pictures that really make me laugh are the ones i like to call 'the money shot'. this is where the person extends their arm over their head and then looks up at the camera . it kinda just looks like they're staring up at you before you cum on their face. i guess certain people just look more attractive when you're looking down at them. but really...what is so disgusting on your body that you can't take a normal picture that includes a clear shot of your torso?
i try not to be so dismissive when i see these pictures but when i see them i get the impression that the person is really vain. you have to love yourself a lot..like A LOT...to walk into the bathroom with your phone and just stand in front of the mirror striking various poses as you take pictures of yourself. i always thought of the bathroom as a place to either brush your teeth, take a shower, or use the toilet. and sometimes, to have sex. but to take a picture of yourself? and as far as 'the money shot,' -- it really makes me laugh because i keep imagining what the person would look like if they got a load in their eye. i know...bad.
can't people just stand up straight and smile? it'd feel more genuine and less self-indulgent.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
sweet 16
It's really hard for me to meet people when I go to bars and clubs. The atmosphere just never lends itself to having a normal conversation. The loud music. The dim lighting. The drunk people. It's too much effort, so I just dance. I used to think that meeting people online seemed so pathetic and desperate but the taboo associated with that idea is slowly fading. Myspace, Facebook, OkCupid, Match, eHarmony...hell, even Craigslist. I'm open to all of them. My first encounter happened a few days after Christmas.
When I met him he looked different from his pictures. (That's the problem with trying to meet people online…they send you pictures of themselves before they gained 20 pounds and lost all their hair). I tried to overlook this and keep an open mind. "How are you liking Silverlake?" he asked, since I mentioned that I recently moved there. (Come to think of it, using this 'I just moved here story' is a great way to open up conversation for potential dates).
"I really like the area. There's a lot of hipsters and sceney people which I'm not used to, but it's not bad. Are you a hipster?" I asked jokingly.
"Me? I'm too old to be a hipster."
"Really? How old are you?" I didn't think 28 was that old.
"I'm 41."
.......
"COOL!" Was all I could think of saying.
After doing the math and realizing he was a sophomore in high school when I was born, we had an interesting conversation over ice cream since it was 80 degrees in LA in December. He's a professor at a private college and teaches Media Studies. He got an MFA somewhere on the east cost and was very interested in creating art installations. He was born in Los Angeles, spent some time in China and recently came back from London where his lesbian mother lives. As he told me about himself, I started to get jealous because his life seemed so much more colorful than mine. Professor? MFA? Hong Kong? Lesbian Mom? And here's me…not sure exactly what I'm doing with my life yet, just enjoying the ride. BA in English Lit. Never lived anywhere outside of Los Angeles. Traditional Filipino mom. NO FAIR! Then I reminded myself that he has 16 more years of life experience than I do and the jealousy turned into relief.
Despite the age difference, our conversation flowed nicely -- until I suddenly couldn't stand the sound of his voice. We finished our ice cream and walked around aimlessly. I realized he was dominating the conversation. I felt like I was asking all the questions and he basked in the glory of his long, convoluted answers.
"So why don't you date much? Is it really that hard for you?"
"Well that's the thing. I'm just so busy grading papers and at night when I…"
I got the feeling that he was the type of person who talks for the sake of talking because he enjoys hearing his own voice. He went on about how he's too busy busy to meet someone but somewhere in his monologue, he lost me. Nothing he said registered anymore. I focused my attention on the heat and how I wouldn't be able to wear the new sweaters and jackets I bought for myself if the weather stayed this way.
Since I wasn't being as attentive as I should have been, I somehow agreed to go back to his place. I don't really remember how that happened but I found myself saying, "Sure, I'd love to check out your place." As we approached his house, my mind turned this date into a horror movie. What if this guy is crazy? He's going to take me to his house, have his way with me and then do some torturous shit to me because I wasn't paying attention to him. I am going to die today.
He gave me a tour of his house. No sign of a torture chamber or anything gruesome. We talked about politics, how he felt about growing old alone (which he's content with), and his tattoo. The big tattoo of a horse he has on his back. He sat very close to me on the couch and showed me pictures on his iPhone. I thought I'd simply see pictures of his back and the tattoo but all of his pictures were of him naked. He rested his arm on the sofa (so that if I leaned back, he could easiy put his arm around me). I was leaning so far forward I basically had one buttcheck on the sofa. I had to look over my shoulder as I spoke to him because I positioned myself to be as far away as possible. All I could think was, Don't lean back.
I immediately spotted his library of books and applauded myself for using this to my advantage. "I'm gonna check out your books. Since you're a professor I'm sure you have some interesting ones." I stood up and browsed his library as if I were really looking for a good read when in reality I was planning my exit strategy.
He got the hint and he sat on the other couch. "I have dinner plans tonight," he said, plopping himself onto a rocking chair. "What about you?"
I guess I didn't have to plan my exit strategy too hard.
"Me too. Dinner plans with a friend. I should probably get home now."
He dropped me off and I shook his hand. He looked disappointed and sad and I felt bad for a second. Here's this middle aged man hoping to connect with someone and I immediately dismiss him. Then I remembered he said he was 28 when he's actually 41. I remembered how he was trying to seduce me on his couch with naked pictures of him on his iPhone. I remembered I couldn't stand the sound of his voice after 30 minutes. The sympathy faded.
Besides, by the time I was born, he was already 16.
When I met him he looked different from his pictures. (That's the problem with trying to meet people online…they send you pictures of themselves before they gained 20 pounds and lost all their hair). I tried to overlook this and keep an open mind. "How are you liking Silverlake?" he asked, since I mentioned that I recently moved there. (Come to think of it, using this 'I just moved here story' is a great way to open up conversation for potential dates).
"I really like the area. There's a lot of hipsters and sceney people which I'm not used to, but it's not bad. Are you a hipster?" I asked jokingly.
"Me? I'm too old to be a hipster."
"Really? How old are you?" I didn't think 28 was that old.
"I'm 41."
.......
"COOL!" Was all I could think of saying.
After doing the math and realizing he was a sophomore in high school when I was born, we had an interesting conversation over ice cream since it was 80 degrees in LA in December. He's a professor at a private college and teaches Media Studies. He got an MFA somewhere on the east cost and was very interested in creating art installations. He was born in Los Angeles, spent some time in China and recently came back from London where his lesbian mother lives. As he told me about himself, I started to get jealous because his life seemed so much more colorful than mine. Professor? MFA? Hong Kong? Lesbian Mom? And here's me…not sure exactly what I'm doing with my life yet, just enjoying the ride. BA in English Lit. Never lived anywhere outside of Los Angeles. Traditional Filipino mom. NO FAIR! Then I reminded myself that he has 16 more years of life experience than I do and the jealousy turned into relief.
Despite the age difference, our conversation flowed nicely -- until I suddenly couldn't stand the sound of his voice. We finished our ice cream and walked around aimlessly. I realized he was dominating the conversation. I felt like I was asking all the questions and he basked in the glory of his long, convoluted answers.
"So why don't you date much? Is it really that hard for you?"
"Well that's the thing. I'm just so busy grading papers and at night when I…"
I got the feeling that he was the type of person who talks for the sake of talking because he enjoys hearing his own voice. He went on about how he's too busy busy to meet someone but somewhere in his monologue, he lost me. Nothing he said registered anymore. I focused my attention on the heat and how I wouldn't be able to wear the new sweaters and jackets I bought for myself if the weather stayed this way.
Since I wasn't being as attentive as I should have been, I somehow agreed to go back to his place. I don't really remember how that happened but I found myself saying, "Sure, I'd love to check out your place." As we approached his house, my mind turned this date into a horror movie. What if this guy is crazy? He's going to take me to his house, have his way with me and then do some torturous shit to me because I wasn't paying attention to him. I am going to die today.
He gave me a tour of his house. No sign of a torture chamber or anything gruesome. We talked about politics, how he felt about growing old alone (which he's content with), and his tattoo. The big tattoo of a horse he has on his back. He sat very close to me on the couch and showed me pictures on his iPhone. I thought I'd simply see pictures of his back and the tattoo but all of his pictures were of him naked. He rested his arm on the sofa (so that if I leaned back, he could easiy put his arm around me). I was leaning so far forward I basically had one buttcheck on the sofa. I had to look over my shoulder as I spoke to him because I positioned myself to be as far away as possible. All I could think was, Don't lean back.
I immediately spotted his library of books and applauded myself for using this to my advantage. "I'm gonna check out your books. Since you're a professor I'm sure you have some interesting ones." I stood up and browsed his library as if I were really looking for a good read when in reality I was planning my exit strategy.
He got the hint and he sat on the other couch. "I have dinner plans tonight," he said, plopping himself onto a rocking chair. "What about you?"
I guess I didn't have to plan my exit strategy too hard.
"Me too. Dinner plans with a friend. I should probably get home now."
He dropped me off and I shook his hand. He looked disappointed and sad and I felt bad for a second. Here's this middle aged man hoping to connect with someone and I immediately dismiss him. Then I remembered he said he was 28 when he's actually 41. I remembered how he was trying to seduce me on his couch with naked pictures of him on his iPhone. I remembered I couldn't stand the sound of his voice after 30 minutes. The sympathy faded.
Besides, by the time I was born, he was already 16.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Rim Jobs and Chinese Food with Ben Stein
I couldn’t wait to find out what was for dinner. It was a late dinner because I had to go to the gym (if I’m going to take this dating thing seriously, then I should be at the top of my game, right?) I was really hoping for Chinese food because I remember craving Mandarette’s strawberry shrimp. To quench my curiosity I finally asked where we were going. “MJ’s,” he replied. “Have you ever been on Tuesdays? It’s fun. It’s called 'Rim Job'.” My first date in almost over a year and I’m paying a $7 cover to get into a place with half naked men, drunk old geezers and a smell that i can only describe as slutty. I couldn’t decide if it was fair to even count this as a date anymore.
When I finally started to do this “dating thing" without any hang-ups, the first place I looked to find potential candidates was in the past. (You know, that's where you keep the ones you didn’t even look at twice because you decided they weren’t cute enough.) That’s how I met this guy. I met him through one of my college friends. As we talked I came to realize he was really sensitive and couldn't swallow my cynicism and sarcasm. I don’t remember exactly what I said but it was bad enough to offend him. We stopped talking after that.
We reunited when we bumped into each other one night at M Café in Culver City. I found out he lives in Echo Park. Perfect opportunity to ask him out on a date and show me the ‘hot spots' in Silverlake. I guess to him that means Rim Job Tuesdays at MJ's? When I told him I wanted to eat out, I didn’t mean ass.
I’d been to MJ’s before but since I was anticipating dinner, the go-go dancers with their big cocks flopping around in my face just didn’t sit too well with me. I am so fucking hungry, I thought to myself as I walked by a go-go dancer exposing his bare ass as he humped the stage. I really want some strawberry shrimp.
We headed towards the back of the club where a twinky guy in his underwear hanging out in a hot tub was passing out shots. If I’m not gonna eat, I might as well get drunk, I decided. I bought the first round, thinking he’d buy the second. Again, I thought wrong.
His voice was so monotone and stoic. I tried to be clever with topics to talk about but I found myself bored by his tone. We stood outside and people watched, making up scenarios and creating their life story based on their appearance. “I have a confession to make,” he blurted. “I think you have really nice arms.”
“These scrawny things?” I asked looking at my limbs. “No one’s ever told me that before. But thanks…” I may be hungry. I may be cranky. But fuck yeah! I have nice arms.
We bummed cigarettes off people. Danced a little. Then left. Instead of dropping me off he insisted that he find parking (because that's so easy to find in Silverlake). After he found a spot, I looked at him with that “Huh?” face (refer to picture on the header). “So good night?” I said, extending my arms for a polite embrace. “Can I see your new place?” he asked. You mean my bed? I thought. “For what?” I said with a tinge of annoyance. All I wanted to do was raid my fridge and eat whatever I could find. “I don’t know,” he continued, “Hang out. See what happens.”
SEX! HE WANTS SEX!
“Well nothing’s gonna happen.” I sounded a little too conceited so I added, “...Because my roommates are awake. And I’d be really embarrassed if you were in my room for like 10 minutes and then left. Not very subtle, you know?”
“Aw man. Maybe next time then,” he said dryly. “Can I see your dick?” he caught me off guard.
“Why?!” (refer to picture on the header).
“I just like to see what other guys’ dicks look like. Aren’t you curious?”
“Sure. I guess so,” I said a bit confused, “Well what does yours look like?”
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he said trying his best to sound flirtatious in his monotone voice.
“Well I’m actually really tired so this won’t be much fun,” I said as I tried to recall what was in the fridge. “Maybe next time?
“Aw, alright then.” He seemed so apathetic.
“Well I had fun. Call me if you ever want to do dinner.” I said, giving him a polite goodbye forever hug.
He drove away and I ran to the kitchen and ate a bowl of cereal. It was no Mandarette strawberry shrimp but it was better than comparing dicks with a guy that sounds like Ben Stein in those Visine commercials.
I ate one more bowl of cereal before I went to bed.
When I finally started to do this “dating thing" without any hang-ups, the first place I looked to find potential candidates was in the past. (You know, that's where you keep the ones you didn’t even look at twice because you decided they weren’t cute enough.) That’s how I met this guy. I met him through one of my college friends. As we talked I came to realize he was really sensitive and couldn't swallow my cynicism and sarcasm. I don’t remember exactly what I said but it was bad enough to offend him. We stopped talking after that.
We reunited when we bumped into each other one night at M Café in Culver City. I found out he lives in Echo Park. Perfect opportunity to ask him out on a date and show me the ‘hot spots' in Silverlake. I guess to him that means Rim Job Tuesdays at MJ's? When I told him I wanted to eat out, I didn’t mean ass.
I’d been to MJ’s before but since I was anticipating dinner, the go-go dancers with their big cocks flopping around in my face just didn’t sit too well with me. I am so fucking hungry, I thought to myself as I walked by a go-go dancer exposing his bare ass as he humped the stage. I really want some strawberry shrimp.
We headed towards the back of the club where a twinky guy in his underwear hanging out in a hot tub was passing out shots. If I’m not gonna eat, I might as well get drunk, I decided. I bought the first round, thinking he’d buy the second. Again, I thought wrong.
His voice was so monotone and stoic. I tried to be clever with topics to talk about but I found myself bored by his tone. We stood outside and people watched, making up scenarios and creating their life story based on their appearance. “I have a confession to make,” he blurted. “I think you have really nice arms.”
“These scrawny things?” I asked looking at my limbs. “No one’s ever told me that before. But thanks…” I may be hungry. I may be cranky. But fuck yeah! I have nice arms.
We bummed cigarettes off people. Danced a little. Then left. Instead of dropping me off he insisted that he find parking (because that's so easy to find in Silverlake). After he found a spot, I looked at him with that “Huh?” face (refer to picture on the header). “So good night?” I said, extending my arms for a polite embrace. “Can I see your new place?” he asked. You mean my bed? I thought. “For what?” I said with a tinge of annoyance. All I wanted to do was raid my fridge and eat whatever I could find. “I don’t know,” he continued, “Hang out. See what happens.”
SEX! HE WANTS SEX!
“Well nothing’s gonna happen.” I sounded a little too conceited so I added, “...Because my roommates are awake. And I’d be really embarrassed if you were in my room for like 10 minutes and then left. Not very subtle, you know?”
“Aw man. Maybe next time then,” he said dryly. “Can I see your dick?” he caught me off guard.
“Why?!” (refer to picture on the header).
“I just like to see what other guys’ dicks look like. Aren’t you curious?”
“Sure. I guess so,” I said a bit confused, “Well what does yours look like?”
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he said trying his best to sound flirtatious in his monotone voice.
“Well I’m actually really tired so this won’t be much fun,” I said as I tried to recall what was in the fridge. “Maybe next time?
“Aw, alright then.” He seemed so apathetic.
“Well I had fun. Call me if you ever want to do dinner.” I said, giving him a polite goodbye forever hug.
He drove away and I ran to the kitchen and ate a bowl of cereal. It was no Mandarette strawberry shrimp but it was better than comparing dicks with a guy that sounds like Ben Stein in those Visine commercials.
I ate one more bowl of cereal before I went to bed.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
idealizing the man vol. 1: 13 going on crazy
I still think about him. It’s been a more than a year since we’ve had our first (and last) encounter and he manages to cross my mind at least once a day. I feel so silly when I think about him. I turn into a 13 year old girl, bursting at the seams with giddiness. When he crosses my mind, I get the sudden urge to want to hug someone/something very tight and bite really hard. And yes, all of this is a product of spending one day together. I didn't even initially feel anything when I met him. I was slightly judgmental and dismissive. But as the day progressed and I noticed his subtle quirks, his cute laugh and boyish charm--he became more attractive to me and i wanted to know him.
I try to stop from feeling this way by reminding myself how pathetic it is that I’ve only met him once and somehow I’ve managed to discover the most random (and probably some of the most personal) facts about him. And I relish them.
He grew up in New Jersey. He analyzes the zodiac. I know that he has two stars on each side of his hip and he laughs at them, thinking “Don’t these make me look slutty?” He wears glasses when he drives. If I remember correctly, he’s a Libra…the perfect rational balance to my impulsive Aries. He rarely drinks. He loves animals. I know his full name.
And well…I’m a complete stranger to him.
I doubt he even remembers what I look like. And here I am—gushing about how wonderful he is. I forced myself to call him when I found out he was leaving for the Peace Corps. I debated for a while before I finally mustered up the courage to dial his number.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Voicemail.
Thoughts were swirling inside my head. What do I say? How do I say it? What’s my point? Should I just hang u---
BEEP!
“HI!!! I HOPE YOU REMEMBER ME…IT’S NICK! --- “
Really though? “I hope you remember me?” This was already looking bad. And for some reason I was talking really loud. (Perhaps the nervousness? That would explain the stupid introduction.) I smacked my forehead out of frustration and embarrassment. Somehow I managed to leave a coherent (at least I hope it was) message. "Congrats on getting into the Peace Corps. I know it meant a lot to you. Call me back...I mean if you want. Okay bye."
He called back a day later. I'm sure he felt obligated because we have a mutual friend. “Thanks for the well wishes. I leave as early as March.” The End.
He’s probably nothing like the person I’ve created in my head. If anything I used him as a template and then slowly started to add quirks, flaws, and features that I would find attractive in a partner. Scenarios run rampant in my mind: We’re walking down the aisles at Target, shopping for random things for our house. We argue about what movie we're going to watch on Friday night because he got to choose last time and I really don't feel like a chick flick. We’re stuck in traffic telling stories about what we did on our lunch break and how so-and-so is the most annoying person in the office.
I am slightly crazy for him. I am irrational and silly for him. I turn into a 13 year old girl for him. And he essentially knows nothing about me.
I try to stop from feeling this way by reminding myself how pathetic it is that I’ve only met him once and somehow I’ve managed to discover the most random (and probably some of the most personal) facts about him. And I relish them.
He grew up in New Jersey. He analyzes the zodiac. I know that he has two stars on each side of his hip and he laughs at them, thinking “Don’t these make me look slutty?” He wears glasses when he drives. If I remember correctly, he’s a Libra…the perfect rational balance to my impulsive Aries. He rarely drinks. He loves animals. I know his full name.
And well…I’m a complete stranger to him.
I doubt he even remembers what I look like. And here I am—gushing about how wonderful he is. I forced myself to call him when I found out he was leaving for the Peace Corps. I debated for a while before I finally mustered up the courage to dial his number.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Voicemail.
Thoughts were swirling inside my head. What do I say? How do I say it? What’s my point? Should I just hang u---
BEEP!
“HI!!! I HOPE YOU REMEMBER ME…IT’S NICK! --- “
Really though? “I hope you remember me?” This was already looking bad. And for some reason I was talking really loud. (Perhaps the nervousness? That would explain the stupid introduction.) I smacked my forehead out of frustration and embarrassment. Somehow I managed to leave a coherent (at least I hope it was) message. "Congrats on getting into the Peace Corps. I know it meant a lot to you. Call me back...I mean if you want. Okay bye."
He called back a day later. I'm sure he felt obligated because we have a mutual friend. “Thanks for the well wishes. I leave as early as March.” The End.
He’s probably nothing like the person I’ve created in my head. If anything I used him as a template and then slowly started to add quirks, flaws, and features that I would find attractive in a partner. Scenarios run rampant in my mind: We’re walking down the aisles at Target, shopping for random things for our house. We argue about what movie we're going to watch on Friday night because he got to choose last time and I really don't feel like a chick flick. We’re stuck in traffic telling stories about what we did on our lunch break and how so-and-so is the most annoying person in the office.
I am slightly crazy for him. I am irrational and silly for him. I turn into a 13 year old girl for him. And he essentially knows nothing about me.
Monday, January 12, 2009
my face
that's me up there. and that's usually what i feel/look like when i'm on a date. the expression on my face captures the gist of my feelings and the thoughts that swirl around my head. i'm either utterly confused or strangely intrigued. and sometimes i'm utterly confused BECAUSE i'm strangely intrigued. so picture this face and imagine me thinking --
1) "huh? what are you talking about...rim job?"
2) "wait...you're 41?"
3) "i thought we were going to eat dinner...this is a bar."
4) "oh..your hair ISN'T green?"
5) "you're perfect...but (insert flaw)...and that's really important to me."
6) "okay let me get this straight-you're not over your ex yet?"
7) "you moved to LA to become a filmmaker? and an actor? oh you sing, too?"
8) "you don't go to west hollywood because you hate gay people?"
9) "so how long have you been with your boyfriend?"
10) "...."
as i embark on this dating journey, i look forward to the moment that my expression (the one up there), will be coupled with this thought:":))))))))))))))!!!!!!!!!!" because i'm sure that when that feeling comes, i'll be completely confused as to what is happening to me.
1) "huh? what are you talking about...rim job?"
2) "wait...you're 41?"
3) "i thought we were going to eat dinner...this is a bar."
4) "oh..your hair ISN'T green?"
5) "you're perfect...but (insert flaw)...and that's really important to me."
6) "okay let me get this straight-you're not over your ex yet?"
7) "you moved to LA to become a filmmaker? and an actor? oh you sing, too?"
8) "you don't go to west hollywood because you hate gay people?"
9) "so how long have you been with your boyfriend?"
10) "...."
as i embark on this dating journey, i look forward to the moment that my expression (the one up there), will be coupled with this thought:":))))))))))))))!!!!!!!!!!" because i'm sure that when that feeling comes, i'll be completely confused as to what is happening to me.
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