I'm not really sure if it's a good groove or a bad groove. But I do know that I have been deliriously happily busy these past couple of weeks. I am about to go to bed, so I have very little time. Maybe I'll expand more later. But for now:
1. I took a Lear Jet ride to a very popular college football game last weekend. Yes, on a Lear. It's a lifestyle that I could sooo get used to. Except that it would be a life with a 60 year old. NOT. SO. MUCH. MY. STYLE. He's older than my dad.
2. Jake Brigance has a new nickname. It's now Spock. As in, Flirty decided he is like a Vulcan. For those of you unfamiliar with Star Trek, basically that means someone who goes through life emotionless.
But then, I ran into Spock/Jake tonight at a happy hour event. After some small talk, then some time apart, he proceeded to stay glued to my side for the rest of our time there. To the point that my friends were frantically trying to save me.
He then called me TWICE after he got home. And my lame-o ass answered. Like an idiot. And now I may have plans with him on Sunday.
It may be because he heard that I was going out with a guy on Friday. The story was somewhat "embellished" to him and he doesn't know that it's actually a night out with the Yankee - who obviously is not available to me - but still, seems that Spock got a tad bit jealous.
I'd also like to point out this blog post. Because OMG it is so freakingly similar to our situation that I can't stand it.
Not sure why I can't cut ties with Spock completely. Objectively, this is not a good thing for me to worry my little head about. I know he's emotionally unavailable, and I should continue being Cool Girl (I use the word "continue" loosely, b/c friends will attest that tonight I was not very cool by talking to him all night). But there is something that keeps me from making the complete break. Challenge maybe? Or connection?
And the petty side of me is secretly a little pleased that he pulled a muscle in his back, and has been forced to stop triathalon raining for a few days. That serves him right, if you ask me. He should really be more flexible (not physically, but with his schedule) and take rest days.
3. Speaking of the Yankee, I continue to hang out with him. I continue to like him. But he has that girlfriend. So I've resigned myself to just be his friend. That's all.
Tonight was fun with the Yankee though. And I had the chance to play pool, and he liked my skills on the table.
4. There is a new guy. I'm thinking of a nickname for him - for now let's call him the Italian. He's a friend of a friend, moving back to our city in about a month... We've been emailing and he's nice. Maybe something will come of it??? Maybe no. But I am quite entertained by our email exchange.
5. Oh, you can be so proud of me! The Wannabe tried to get me out tonight, and I said NO. Not going to waste my time with those whom I am sure that I would not be interested in more than one date with.
6. I met a politician at that football game. Let's call him the Politician. He tried calling and texting me tonight... But he lives about 400 miles away...
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
The Lumberjack who stalked me
So as seen from my previous post, you might be getting the impression that I am somewhat of a magnet for attracting random men who have novel (or scary) pickup lines and who are extremely persistent.
You would be right.
My polite midwestern upbringing is partially to blame, because apparently even when I think I am being bitchy and standoffish, my friends have informed me that it's not so successful.
But that alone cannot explain incidents like The Lumberjack.
I went out to one of the trendy 'burbs of my new city to meet an old friend from college for brunch, gossip, and shopping. So far so good right? It was one of those picture perfect fall days in a quaint old town with brick streets, good restaurants and the aforementioned shopping. When we were done, my friend (we'll call her The Event Planner) and I parted ways and I made my way back to the train station.
Enter The Lumberjack.
I was walking down the street, lost in my own thoughts and minding my own business, when an older man said hello to me. I automatically said hello back and kept walking.
He turned around and walked back toward me and said, "Hey can I ask you a question?" "Are you married?"
I replied no.
"Do you have a boyfriend?"
I replied yes. This is a complete and utter lie, but my usual default when I sense a persistent come on that I am wholly uninterested in.
"Oh, bummer. Is it a committed relationship?"
Yes. (Another lie).
"Can I just tell you something? I don't want you to think I'm a creepy sex maniac or anything, but I just have to tell you that you have the most beautiful backside of any woman I have ever seen."
Me: Gaping shock, complete loss of words for any kind of appropriate response
But he doesn't stop there.
"Do you get hit on a lot by guys in the street? I bet you do."
(Well yes, this is true, and I am still not sure why. Any "backside" I might possess cannot possibly be a complete explanation for such weirdness.)
"Do you get hit on by more black guys or white guys?" (For the record, this fellow was white. Which did make it unusual. Far it be from me to perpetuate a stereotype, but in my personal experience, I get many more, shall we say positive, comments on my, um, backside, from black men than white.)
He proceeded to walk me to the train station, the better apparently to plead his case for our future. I found out a variety of unsolicited information about him, such as:
He is a lumberjack. He currently makes $9.88 an hour but is supposed to get a raise to $11/hour soon.
He is a weightlifter and can bench press 300 pounds.
He is the 13th of 14 children. The 14th is actually his nephew who was adopted by his parents and is allegedly a raging alcoholic who cannot run his life.
He is 49 years old and has never been married. If he had it to do over again he would go to college.
He had gone to some sort of New Age-y church that morning.
He would like to have children someday and inquired about my plans to do so.
Interspersed in all of this biographical information were many comments about how he just couldn't get over what a great butt I had, that he was a "butt man," how I looked "physical," how much I weighed (um, as IF I would ever in a million years tell him, although he was happy to tell me he was "six three 240", that I carried my weight really well, and that he doesn't like how skinny girls are today), whether my boyfriend was white or black, etc. etc.
Then, when I was finally about to break free...
"So, if you didn't have a boyfriend that you were seriously considering marrying would you give me your number?"
(Um. No.)
"Do you ever think you'll come out here again? How can I see you?"
(Um. You can't.)
"Can I at least get a hug?"
(Um. NO NO NO.)
Finally I made my escape. I think my next project is to befriend a cop who will find me a taser to carry. Because obviously my "bitchy" look just ain't cutting it.
You would be right.
My polite midwestern upbringing is partially to blame, because apparently even when I think I am being bitchy and standoffish, my friends have informed me that it's not so successful.
But that alone cannot explain incidents like The Lumberjack.
I went out to one of the trendy 'burbs of my new city to meet an old friend from college for brunch, gossip, and shopping. So far so good right? It was one of those picture perfect fall days in a quaint old town with brick streets, good restaurants and the aforementioned shopping. When we were done, my friend (we'll call her The Event Planner) and I parted ways and I made my way back to the train station.
Enter The Lumberjack.
I was walking down the street, lost in my own thoughts and minding my own business, when an older man said hello to me. I automatically said hello back and kept walking.
He turned around and walked back toward me and said, "Hey can I ask you a question?" "Are you married?"
I replied no.
"Do you have a boyfriend?"
I replied yes. This is a complete and utter lie, but my usual default when I sense a persistent come on that I am wholly uninterested in.
"Oh, bummer. Is it a committed relationship?"
Yes. (Another lie).
"Can I just tell you something? I don't want you to think I'm a creepy sex maniac or anything, but I just have to tell you that you have the most beautiful backside of any woman I have ever seen."
Me: Gaping shock, complete loss of words for any kind of appropriate response
But he doesn't stop there.
"Do you get hit on a lot by guys in the street? I bet you do."
(Well yes, this is true, and I am still not sure why. Any "backside" I might possess cannot possibly be a complete explanation for such weirdness.)
"Do you get hit on by more black guys or white guys?" (For the record, this fellow was white. Which did make it unusual. Far it be from me to perpetuate a stereotype, but in my personal experience, I get many more, shall we say positive, comments on my, um, backside, from black men than white.)
He proceeded to walk me to the train station, the better apparently to plead his case for our future. I found out a variety of unsolicited information about him, such as:
He is a lumberjack. He currently makes $9.88 an hour but is supposed to get a raise to $11/hour soon.
He is a weightlifter and can bench press 300 pounds.
He is the 13th of 14 children. The 14th is actually his nephew who was adopted by his parents and is allegedly a raging alcoholic who cannot run his life.
He is 49 years old and has never been married. If he had it to do over again he would go to college.
He had gone to some sort of New Age-y church that morning.
He would like to have children someday and inquired about my plans to do so.
Interspersed in all of this biographical information were many comments about how he just couldn't get over what a great butt I had, that he was a "butt man," how I looked "physical," how much I weighed (um, as IF I would ever in a million years tell him, although he was happy to tell me he was "six three 240", that I carried my weight really well, and that he doesn't like how skinny girls are today), whether my boyfriend was white or black, etc. etc.
Then, when I was finally about to break free...
"So, if you didn't have a boyfriend that you were seriously considering marrying would you give me your number?"
(Um. No.)
"Do you ever think you'll come out here again? How can I see you?"
(Um. You can't.)
"Can I at least get a hug?"
(Um. NO NO NO.)
Finally I made my escape. I think my next project is to befriend a cop who will find me a taser to carry. Because obviously my "bitchy" look just ain't cutting it.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
I'm Alive, I Promise!
As Bossy ever so eloquently pointed out, I have neglected this blog for quite some time now. I usually don't feel too bad because Bossy has MORE than enough stories to keep you entertained all by her bad self, but she is right, I am co-author and should be more involved.
After all, it's not for lack of stories to tell.
BUT.
I recently moved cross-country to a large East Coast city, so my life has pretty much been consumed by that lately. Add some computer troubles to that and you'll see why the blogging pickin's have been slim on my end. I PROMISE that will change soon, and I will update you shortly on the long-promised Boy Toy story.
In the meantime, here are two little gems from the couple of days I have been here.
#1: As I was walking home Monday night around 11 PM, a construction worker asked me out on a date. Not "woo-hoo your ass is fine can I follow it home and make a woman out of you" as you might expect, but an actual "You're beautiful, can I take you to dinner?" I said no, of course (although Bossy contends I MUST have been too nice and friendly and need to be bitchier, except in bars where I am supposed to be even Flirtier), but after a long few days of decidedly unglamorous unpacking and organizing, I have to say it WAS nice to hear. Here's hoping it's a sign of better times to come.
#2: As I was walking into Target yesterday, a man passed me and exclaimed, "DAMNNNNN, gurrll, those are some pretty hips you got. Mmm Mmm MMM!!!!"
WTF? Pretty hips? Hips can be pretty? I am seriously confused.
Anyway, now that I'm in a higher traffic zone, expect some good stories from these pretty hips once I get settled and rolling, Flirty-style.
After all, it's not for lack of stories to tell.
BUT.
I recently moved cross-country to a large East Coast city, so my life has pretty much been consumed by that lately. Add some computer troubles to that and you'll see why the blogging pickin's have been slim on my end. I PROMISE that will change soon, and I will update you shortly on the long-promised Boy Toy story.
In the meantime, here are two little gems from the couple of days I have been here.
#1: As I was walking home Monday night around 11 PM, a construction worker asked me out on a date. Not "woo-hoo your ass is fine can I follow it home and make a woman out of you" as you might expect, but an actual "You're beautiful, can I take you to dinner?" I said no, of course (although Bossy contends I MUST have been too nice and friendly and need to be bitchier, except in bars where I am supposed to be even Flirtier), but after a long few days of decidedly unglamorous unpacking and organizing, I have to say it WAS nice to hear. Here's hoping it's a sign of better times to come.
#2: As I was walking into Target yesterday, a man passed me and exclaimed, "DAMNNNNN, gurrll, those are some pretty hips you got. Mmm Mmm MMM!!!!"
WTF? Pretty hips? Hips can be pretty? I am seriously confused.
Anyway, now that I'm in a higher traffic zone, expect some good stories from these pretty hips once I get settled and rolling, Flirty-style.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
I'm Not Always Such a Downer
You probably have noticed that I have been involved in much sadness/drama/etc. It's really not the norm for me. In fact, I can't think of anytime in my entire life that I have had so many major things happen at once.
It's been one of those times when you think, OK, nothing else bad can happen. And then it does. I've wondered what I did to deserve all of this bad karma.
As for my dad, I haven't heard from him. Today was the "deadline," and because he never called, I refuses to speak anymore of him. Nor will I make any effort to communicate with him. So please refrain from mentioning him to me. Thanks so much...
Finally, however, the saying "things can only get better" rings true. I received a bit of good news on Friday. Actually, FABULOUS news. It's still "secret" so I can't discuss details, but IF it happens, I'll be one happy little Bossy.
Until I get confirmation, I'll try to put on a happy face for you!!!!
First, there was a talk with Jake Brigance on Friday, and it was basically me making it MORE clear that I can't date him. Not with his back-and-forth emotional game playing. He wants to be "friends." I did see him today at an event, and he was friendly enough. I was apathetic and distant, though polite and nice. He also asked about the wedding I went to last night. The wedding HE was supposed to go to with me. I took my friend, the Pilot, instead. And the Comedian was there. The three of us had a blast. So really, I'm quite glad Jake didn't go. He would've definitely been more of a downer, and the fun dancing that was had last night maybe wouldn't have happened. (on a side note, the Comedian is turning out to be a great, fun friend... He's going to be a good wingman...)
Jake also ended our Friday conversations with this... I had said, "sorry things didn't work out." He replied, "I don't know that I would say it didn't work out. I'm just in a place right now that makes me need to pull away." To me, that's him trying to string me along a little. Not going to work. I'm moving on...
...to, the Yankee. Yes, we have a new character in our on-going tales of the single life. He was originally referred to as Hot Neighbor (not on this blog, just in general), but that is such a generic term. So now, he's the Yankee. Because he is a Northerner. Also fairly generic, but it's a good way to refer to him. He just moved into my building. We met by the elevator, saw each other on the street. We exchanged apartment numbers, in attempt for him to meet new people since he's new to town.
I really didn't think much of it, either because things like that rarely materialize, or because I was too wrapped up in the silly behavior of Jake Brigance.
Then last night.... As I stood, NAKED, by my apartment door (INSIDE the door people, I'm not running naked through the halls), putting laundry into the dryer, the Yankee knocked on my door.
Oh, if cameras could've caught my reaction. My first response was to FREEZE. Then the Angels materialize.... Evil angel says, pull a Samantha and open the door naked (such a durrty Angel, she is...). Good Angel says to pretend to be not at home. Single, fun-loving, boy-crazy, Bossy Angel says, tiptoe away from the door, grab your cute little robe, and answer the door.
Of COURSE I listened to Single Angel. I finally got to the door, opened it, and to my amusement saw his reaction at seeing Bossy in her cute little robe. A mix of embarrassment, shock, curiosity...
I explained I was about to get in the shower and get ready for a wedding. He said he just wanted to stop by and say hi, because he has been out of town for awhile and hadn't had the chance to do so yet.
We then exchanged numbers. And proceeded to fall into a VERY comfortable 10-minute conversation. He is just as talkative and out-going as I am, people. A nice change from up-tight Jake Brigance. In that mere 10 minutes, we managed to learn much about each other. Amazing. I fell in love, right there on the spot, in the cute little robe.
Unfortunately, I have no idea if he fell in love. Nor am I clear as to whether he is interested, or just wants to make new friends.... Stay tuned to find out, I guess!
(p.s. If Flirty doesn't post SOON, I'm divorcing her.)
It's been one of those times when you think, OK, nothing else bad can happen. And then it does. I've wondered what I did to deserve all of this bad karma.
As for my dad, I haven't heard from him. Today was the "deadline," and because he never called, I refuses to speak anymore of him. Nor will I make any effort to communicate with him. So please refrain from mentioning him to me. Thanks so much...
Finally, however, the saying "things can only get better" rings true. I received a bit of good news on Friday. Actually, FABULOUS news. It's still "secret" so I can't discuss details, but IF it happens, I'll be one happy little Bossy.
Until I get confirmation, I'll try to put on a happy face for you!!!!
First, there was a talk with Jake Brigance on Friday, and it was basically me making it MORE clear that I can't date him. Not with his back-and-forth emotional game playing. He wants to be "friends." I did see him today at an event, and he was friendly enough. I was apathetic and distant, though polite and nice. He also asked about the wedding I went to last night. The wedding HE was supposed to go to with me. I took my friend, the Pilot, instead. And the Comedian was there. The three of us had a blast. So really, I'm quite glad Jake didn't go. He would've definitely been more of a downer, and the fun dancing that was had last night maybe wouldn't have happened. (on a side note, the Comedian is turning out to be a great, fun friend... He's going to be a good wingman...)
Jake also ended our Friday conversations with this... I had said, "sorry things didn't work out." He replied, "I don't know that I would say it didn't work out. I'm just in a place right now that makes me need to pull away." To me, that's him trying to string me along a little. Not going to work. I'm moving on...
...to, the Yankee. Yes, we have a new character in our on-going tales of the single life. He was originally referred to as Hot Neighbor (not on this blog, just in general), but that is such a generic term. So now, he's the Yankee. Because he is a Northerner. Also fairly generic, but it's a good way to refer to him. He just moved into my building. We met by the elevator, saw each other on the street. We exchanged apartment numbers, in attempt for him to meet new people since he's new to town.
I really didn't think much of it, either because things like that rarely materialize, or because I was too wrapped up in the silly behavior of Jake Brigance.
Then last night.... As I stood, NAKED, by my apartment door (INSIDE the door people, I'm not running naked through the halls), putting laundry into the dryer, the Yankee knocked on my door.
Oh, if cameras could've caught my reaction. My first response was to FREEZE. Then the Angels materialize.... Evil angel says, pull a Samantha and open the door naked (such a durrty Angel, she is...). Good Angel says to pretend to be not at home. Single, fun-loving, boy-crazy, Bossy Angel says, tiptoe away from the door, grab your cute little robe, and answer the door.
Of COURSE I listened to Single Angel. I finally got to the door, opened it, and to my amusement saw his reaction at seeing Bossy in her cute little robe. A mix of embarrassment, shock, curiosity...
I explained I was about to get in the shower and get ready for a wedding. He said he just wanted to stop by and say hi, because he has been out of town for awhile and hadn't had the chance to do so yet.
We then exchanged numbers. And proceeded to fall into a VERY comfortable 10-minute conversation. He is just as talkative and out-going as I am, people. A nice change from up-tight Jake Brigance. In that mere 10 minutes, we managed to learn much about each other. Amazing. I fell in love, right there on the spot, in the cute little robe.
Unfortunately, I have no idea if he fell in love. Nor am I clear as to whether he is interested, or just wants to make new friends.... Stay tuned to find out, I guess!
(p.s. If Flirty doesn't post SOON, I'm divorcing her.)
Thursday, September 6, 2007
"I Hate Him"
Flirty and Sassy have a special understanding of the way I say that. Because it's not just "I hate him," but instead it has a certain ring to it...
I really do hate him. Jake Brigance that is.
I hate myself too. For giving in last week, and admitting (to the girls, not to him) that I LIKE him, and I wanted to date him and see what happened.
I took a chance, and I got burned.
He has issues, and I know objectively that this is the last person that I need or want. So I told him, two nights ago, that I just can't date him anymore. Because he refused to stop the emotional games with me - he refused to stop pushing me away. It was a new trick of his, one that he just began a couple of weeks ago. And it hurt. It made me sick to my stomach. I merely asked for him to go back to being cool and fun, with no worries, just letting things go with the flow. But he refused.
So I said, No More.
Seemingly, making the ration decision.
But then, he called me and texted me the following day. We talked on the phone for an hour. It was nice, it was easy. It was like it used to be. I foolishly thought, maybe he realized that he doesn't want me to go away.
Then tonight happened.
This afternoon, I received very upsetting news re: my father. He is leaving my stepmom, and is moving, far away. He didn't even tell me. And he leaves this weekend.
So I called Jake, because he knew the full story surrounding this latest about my father. He seemed caring and sympathetic enough. We let each other go, but not before he voluntarily said, I'll call you later.
Stupid girl for believing that maybe, just maybe, he realized that this was one more "change," one more thing added to my plate, and that more than ever I just needed a friend to be there for me.
But he never called. So I worked late, to keep my mind off things. Then the Comedian asked me to meet him out. I did. At the very place that Jake showed up with his YOGA INSTRUCTOR, AKA the Dogwalker. It felt like someone punched me in the stomach when he walked in with her.
The Comedian talked me down from the ledge, pointed out that probably not a big deal. Just the same as the fact that I was there with the Comedian was nothing more than friendly.
But I couldn't help but think, "but he KNEW I was sad today, and yet, no time for me. But all the time in the world for 'Miss flexible.'"
Jake spots me, and goes to the restroom, and texts: I am here with my dogwalker. She has a boyfriend, so don't give me crap.
I laugh to myself. He came out of the bathroom, and headed straight to me. He fell all over himself explaining his actions. The Comedian said that I had "won" this. That all was cool.
Jake was nice, attentive, came up to me a couple of times. But then he left, and we had a little discussion before he left that wasn't so great. And he walked out with her, to take her to her car allegedly.
Maybe it's not fair of me to care, because I did tell him I couldn't date him anymore.
I'm so sick of mixed signals.
I don't know why I am letting this bother me. I deserve better. I deserve someone who respects me, who can see me for who I am, and not just assume that I'm attempting to steal his independence. Not someone who makes me feel this way. Who couldn't even be there for me this one night.
I am not answering his calls all weekend. IF he even tries to contact me.
I really do hate him. Jake Brigance that is.
I hate myself too. For giving in last week, and admitting (to the girls, not to him) that I LIKE him, and I wanted to date him and see what happened.
I took a chance, and I got burned.
He has issues, and I know objectively that this is the last person that I need or want. So I told him, two nights ago, that I just can't date him anymore. Because he refused to stop the emotional games with me - he refused to stop pushing me away. It was a new trick of his, one that he just began a couple of weeks ago. And it hurt. It made me sick to my stomach. I merely asked for him to go back to being cool and fun, with no worries, just letting things go with the flow. But he refused.
So I said, No More.
Seemingly, making the ration decision.
But then, he called me and texted me the following day. We talked on the phone for an hour. It was nice, it was easy. It was like it used to be. I foolishly thought, maybe he realized that he doesn't want me to go away.
Then tonight happened.
This afternoon, I received very upsetting news re: my father. He is leaving my stepmom, and is moving, far away. He didn't even tell me. And he leaves this weekend.
So I called Jake, because he knew the full story surrounding this latest about my father. He seemed caring and sympathetic enough. We let each other go, but not before he voluntarily said, I'll call you later.
Stupid girl for believing that maybe, just maybe, he realized that this was one more "change," one more thing added to my plate, and that more than ever I just needed a friend to be there for me.
But he never called. So I worked late, to keep my mind off things. Then the Comedian asked me to meet him out. I did. At the very place that Jake showed up with his YOGA INSTRUCTOR, AKA the Dogwalker. It felt like someone punched me in the stomach when he walked in with her.
The Comedian talked me down from the ledge, pointed out that probably not a big deal. Just the same as the fact that I was there with the Comedian was nothing more than friendly.
But I couldn't help but think, "but he KNEW I was sad today, and yet, no time for me. But all the time in the world for 'Miss flexible.'"
Jake spots me, and goes to the restroom, and texts: I am here with my dogwalker. She has a boyfriend, so don't give me crap.
I laugh to myself. He came out of the bathroom, and headed straight to me. He fell all over himself explaining his actions. The Comedian said that I had "won" this. That all was cool.
Jake was nice, attentive, came up to me a couple of times. But then he left, and we had a little discussion before he left that wasn't so great. And he walked out with her, to take her to her car allegedly.
Maybe it's not fair of me to care, because I did tell him I couldn't date him anymore.
I'm so sick of mixed signals.
I don't know why I am letting this bother me. I deserve better. I deserve someone who respects me, who can see me for who I am, and not just assume that I'm attempting to steal his independence. Not someone who makes me feel this way. Who couldn't even be there for me this one night.
I am not answering his calls all weekend. IF he even tries to contact me.
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