The other day, I posted this letter John Steinbeck wrote to his son concerning his first love. I really enjoyed the note; it was poignant. Just then, a short conversation ensued (in which I probably talked too much):
G: thanks for sharing the steinbeck post, i needed it
me: no problem.
everything okay?
G: oh ya, just frustrated with dating
and the endless cycle of anger/sadness/defeat, etc.
me: ha. ohhhhhhhhhhhh. i feel you sister.
G: and then being ok with it, lol
and saying eff off i have better things to do
haha
me: i'm currently restuck on someone i've asked to go away to get unstuck. and then i'm fine and then part of me goes "don't let it go". and then logic comes back and goes "you wouldn't want that right now anyway".
in short. i feel you. haha
G: haha, and hence why i would rather fill my schedule up with my endless hobbies
i swap crazy for crazy
me: ha. when i made the ... decision to end it with him, my sister said "enjoy these months of being single, they could be your last".
that always comes back to mind. we never know what tomorrow may bring. life changes in an instant.
G: lol, when months turn to years that advice does not weigh as heavily with me
me: we have forever to be taken. [only limited time to be single.] but i understand the frustration. oh, trust me, i do.
almost more annoying to have "oh look this could be perfect" dangling in front of your face only to have to swiftly bat it away. and struggle some months later with it still. it all sucks. one day it won't suck anymore.
i figure, someone is out there frustrated that he hasn't found me either. and then when it comes that time, everyone appreciates the other person that much more cause it took so much to find them.
then again, i could be waxing optimism.
i'll shut up and leave it to john steinbeck.
G: lmao
that was lovely
thank you
Only, I wasn't just waxing. I believe all of these things. The hopeless romantic remains and sometimes stuff still bothers me, but it's true "nothing good gets away". In other words, it didn't work out because it wasn't suppose to. There is a path - we can't see it and we don't know where it goes, but it's there and everything we endure or hope for or cry or laugh or fret about - it is part of that path: Eventually we find the good stuff. And appreciate it all the more. And as much as we think we're by ourselves, our paths are never as solitary as sometimes they may appear.
One day it won't suck anymore.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Sideways
These feelings won't go away. They be knocking me sideways. I keep thinking any moment that time will take them away. These feelings won't go away. You know it ain't easy for these here thoughts to leave me. There are no words to describe it in French or in English. [citizen cope]
That wheel-churning cherub has been loud the last few days. I don't know why. But it's driving me mad. I'm finding it easy to walk away - no urge for contact - but impossible to forget and just let go. I don't know how to move forward without the noise of that cherub: Maybe. Someday. Sometimes he screams. I don't understand it. If this is that path I'm meant to be on, then Universe, please let me pass through. Make these feelings go away; they're knocking me sideways.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
G-Chat Snippet: Blocked
I tagged my friend on facebook today. She got an email telling her about the tag, only her work blocks facebook. This ensued, so fittingly. Love it.
N: I hate not being on FB
me: haha. why?
N: Just got this in an email, [...]
me: haha.
you'll see! :)
N: in another 5 hours
me: haha.
it'll be okay
N: I'm sure, just annoying that I can see that there is something out there, but can't get to it.
me: work stealing your fb is a metaphor for love. hahaha
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Chicago
I run around changing my photos now. Looking at my face, my eyes, my forced smile and feeling like a fraud; those photos won’t do anymore. I’ve changed my photos to reflect the changes in myself.
This past weekend I went to Chicago to visit a friend. Quite an amazing specimen of human generosity and kindness; you need the shirt off her back? You got it. You want some apple butter the store ran out of? She’ll find it. You can’t make it to a friend’s birthday because you can’t afford it – even though she’s only known you a short time? She’ll front you the money for a year; insist she must.
I love to look at my life and realize I’ve cut out and cultivated this garden of really beautiful people in it. I have managed to surround myself with amazing, sweet – and utterly different – souls…in cities that sprawl the nation. I am thankful for this opportunity, because I know I almost missed them.
Just before Chicago, I sent an email to HG effectively ending anything we thought maybe could be. (Even though, admittedly, there’s still a small cherub in the back of my mind churning a wheel of Maybe from time to time. Just maybe, it cranks out.) I wrote him a note explaining everything: Why that conversation had gone so strange, though it was only after I really thought about it that I figure out a number of things:
1. It wasn’t just him running away from a relationship; I was running too. Only I was too wrapped up in his stuff – the more obvious of the two – to notice I wasn’t ready/normal/unbroken either.
2. The Pink Elephant still affects me...well, kinda (read on). And that seemed counterintuitive: It was just a stupid guy in a dumb situation. I lost myself in what I’d latched onto after the Ex, I thought. That didn’t seem stable enough – and I thought about it some more and realized I was duped by the PE. All those years of watching my dad lie to women, con women, use women; I had convinced myself it was okay – good, even – because I would know what to look out for; I would never be one of those women. I want to say I’d come to this conclusion about PE before – regarding the sting of stupidity and female blindness regarding my dad – but I forgot about it and never gave it nearly enough clout. I was horrified to realize I could get sucked into this situation...and twice, even! (even if both boys were just accidental idiots). Point stands: Horrified.
5. Not everyone feels the way I do or always understands what I’m saying; and sometimes no matter how much I talk, they never could because they haven’t been where I have been. Also, context, context, context. And sometimes just shut up.
6. I can’t fix anyone; anything – save perhaps myself. Sometimes I just need to let go and save me.
And that’s what I did. And, unlike PE – I told him so (though I wish I’d had tounchained heart balls to tell him so weeks ago). After my note explaining the discourse of confusion, I penned:
He can't exist so that I may be left to my solidarity without confusions and pulls or being sucked back in and confused and last-May-goes-on-repeat (which would be soul-crushing; the PE situation would have been all for not). I retracted myrelation friendship and told him why, then I got on a plane and flew to Chicago. The next day I had an email from HG saying he understands and thinks it's for the best. I felt free. Slightly sad, but free.
So when I came home from Chicago, my friend (P.I.) told me it seemed to suit me. I asked why and he said I looked happy in the photos – like really happy, not “party happy” (his words). I told him I felt lighter; I’d really just let go of my hope – and my constant chase of control. He said that must be it and I let the universe confirm it as my Chicago friend went on about a guy she’s liked for some time. And she told him and he just retreated. I asked her if it was exhausting; it sounded exhausting – always blaming herself; never seeing that he wasn’t treating her right either. Everyone was making everyone else uncomfortable and she was footing the bill. All I could think was how familiar it sounded, how much I could relate; how hard it had been to let go, but how thankful I am that I have. I feel free. For the first time, I really feel free. Minus that wheel churning cherub, but he can stay for a while longer; he doesn’t make a lot of noise and what will be, will be. You can’t kill destiny. I know this now. So why I have spent so many years trying to lead it down the path I forced it to belong, I may never know, because, as it turns out, there is no path and, damn, does that revelation enlightening. Liberating, even. And, so, it shows on my face. Thanks, Chicago.
This past weekend I went to Chicago to visit a friend. Quite an amazing specimen of human generosity and kindness; you need the shirt off her back? You got it. You want some apple butter the store ran out of? She’ll find it. You can’t make it to a friend’s birthday because you can’t afford it – even though she’s only known you a short time? She’ll front you the money for a year; insist she must.
I love to look at my life and realize I’ve cut out and cultivated this garden of really beautiful people in it. I have managed to surround myself with amazing, sweet – and utterly different – souls…in cities that sprawl the nation. I am thankful for this opportunity, because I know I almost missed them.
Just before Chicago, I sent an email to HG effectively ending anything we thought maybe could be. (Even though, admittedly, there’s still a small cherub in the back of my mind churning a wheel of Maybe from time to time. Just maybe, it cranks out.) I wrote him a note explaining everything: Why that conversation had gone so strange, though it was only after I really thought about it that I figure out a number of things:
1. It wasn’t just him running away from a relationship; I was running too. Only I was too wrapped up in his stuff – the more obvious of the two – to notice I wasn’t ready/normal/unbroken either.
2. The Pink Elephant still affects me...well, kinda (read on). And that seemed counterintuitive: It was just a stupid guy in a dumb situation. I lost myself in what I’d latched onto after the Ex, I thought. That didn’t seem stable enough – and I thought about it some more and realized I was duped by the PE. All those years of watching my dad lie to women, con women, use women; I had convinced myself it was okay – good, even – because I would know what to look out for; I would never be one of those women. I want to say I’d come to this conclusion about PE before – regarding the sting of stupidity and female blindness regarding my dad – but I forgot about it and never gave it nearly enough clout. I was horrified to realize I could get sucked into this situation...and twice, even! (even if both boys were just accidental idiots). Point stands: Horrified.
3. I need to be alone. When I thought back on it, my years after The Ex went like this: PE immediately following, then a few months free, then back to the Pink Elephant for about 18 months, a few months free, HG. As much as I thought I had, I haven't really been alone (enough to figure out me).
- NOTE: One time – I was probably about 12 or so – I remember my dad was talking to one (of his many, at that time) ladies on the phone. He hung up with her then went on to talk to me about how dumb she was; how fat she was (though, knowing him, she probably wasn't at all); how he hated her. I probably asked why he still talked to her without a suitable answer, soon after the phone rang again. He picked up and continued their conversation: Freshly in my mind, wondering why he was wasting his time on someone he “hated”, as he put it. He hung up the phone, but not before saying, “I love you too”. Taken back, always taught by my mother and grandparents that those words had meaning (I mean, he said them to me!), I asked why he’d just told her he loved her when he “hates” her. “They’re just words,” he said. I don’t have many memories of childhood, but I can describe every detail, sitting in that exchange, to this day. On another occasion, some years later when I was 17, he forced me to tell a women from New Jersey that he was a pilot (against my wishes – as I could see the fury build up inside him, I gave in). She believed me: I’ll never be so dumb, I thought.
4. I am terrified to let history repeat itself. Everything was good when I first started to see HG. But what I have now come to describe as a “tornado”, was just the convergence of two people lost in their own emotions and scrambling to grab onto something that was the exact opposite of where they had just came: I met a nice guy who treated me right and who paid and saved me and planned and made me feel good and made me feel my worth and came to my house; who was the relationship workhorse. He met a girl that was fun and new and exciting and passionate and warm and spontaneous and knew how to love (if he would let her). All of these things are true, but initially magnified in our respective eyes - but the workhorse changed. When he started to pull away; I began to panic - which made him retreat more – which made me panic more. The snowball was an avalanche by mid-January. Just like PE, I was a workhorse again and my panic felt a year old and was fed by those un-processed feelings: History and all. It felt like PE feelings all over; all that time; all that time wasted. And how once I got out I wondered how I’d been sucked in so long because I was convinced it was me and I could fix it. I realized I am happy when things are good; when I feel things change without reason, I panic, I think it’s me and I lose myself. My cool is gone; my control is gone; myself is gone; I'm a ball of useless, leaching goo. This is where history repeats on my end; the goo – and that chapter is over today.
- NOTE: When I say, 18 months, I mean to indicate that my energy was wrapped up in that person. HG had said to me, in the moments I was crashing and burning in attempts to explain my position and try not to let history repeat itself last week, that I had my time to be single and he hadn’t. It seemed impossible for him to understand that, yes, while technically I was “single”, you lose that when you have a focus on a person. Whether it be a bang buddy, or a crush, or someone I am dating – someone like me losing focus of themselves, loses the energy and freedom that really goes into being “single”. For me, to be single is to have no love interest. Nothing. And I had less of it in the past 5 years than he did.
5. Not everyone feels the way I do or always understands what I’m saying; and sometimes no matter how much I talk, they never could because they haven’t been where I have been. Also, context, context, context. And sometimes just shut up.
6. I can’t fix anyone; anything – save perhaps myself. Sometimes I just need to let go and save me.
And that’s what I did. And, unlike PE – I told him so (though I wish I’d had to
with that said, i think i need to be left alone for a little while; to let everything decompress; to get my shit together; to find my peace of mind. i know i asked the opposite of you and you seemed hurt when i said i couldn't be friends, so i want to make sure that's okay and you understand why. i hope to come back; i hope we'll be friends or whatnot (you meant a lot to me in the time we laughed together), but it's obvious i just can't yet. is this copacetic?
He can't exist so that I may be left to my solidarity without confusions and pulls or being sucked back in and confused and last-May-goes-on-repeat (which would be soul-crushing; the PE situation would have been all for not). I retracted my
So when I came home from Chicago, my friend (P.I.) told me it seemed to suit me. I asked why and he said I looked happy in the photos – like really happy, not “party happy” (his words). I told him I felt lighter; I’d really just let go of my hope – and my constant chase of control. He said that must be it and I let the universe confirm it as my Chicago friend went on about a guy she’s liked for some time. And she told him and he just retreated. I asked her if it was exhausting; it sounded exhausting – always blaming herself; never seeing that he wasn’t treating her right either. Everyone was making everyone else uncomfortable and she was footing the bill. All I could think was how familiar it sounded, how much I could relate; how hard it had been to let go, but how thankful I am that I have. I feel free. For the first time, I really feel free. Minus that wheel churning cherub, but he can stay for a while longer; he doesn’t make a lot of noise and what will be, will be. You can’t kill destiny. I know this now. So why I have spent so many years trying to lead it down the path I forced it to belong, I may never know, because, as it turns out, there is no path and, damn, does that revelation enlightening. Liberating, even. And, so, it shows on my face. Thanks, Chicago.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
G-Chat Snippet: Dating Dance
me: wow
[FG] just texted me
"so with this wonderful personality and remarking beauty, why are you single? secretely a lesbian?"
C: I hate when guys ask that question
me: if you're a lesbian?
lol
j/k
C: I had a guy majorly into me this weekend doing stuff like that
the "you're so amazing :insert compliment here: do you have a bf?"
me: my response: "yes. you caught me. love the muff."
C: haha yeah that just irks me
I mean it's kinda funny
but it's basically asking "so...what's wrong with you? no seriously"
me: LOL
i know. that's what i was thinking.
[FG] just texted me
"so with this wonderful personality and remarking beauty, why are you single? secretely a lesbian?"
C: I hate when guys ask that question
me: if you're a lesbian?
lol
j/k
C: I had a guy majorly into me this weekend doing stuff like that
the "you're so amazing :insert compliment here: do you have a bf?"
me: my response: "yes. you caught me. love the muff."
C: haha yeah that just irks me
I mean it's kinda funny
but it's basically asking "so...what's wrong with you? no seriously"
me: LOL
i know. that's what i was thinking.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Fun.
.
that line of the interview screamed at me. and then i bought the album.
[Edit:]
non-sequitur addendum:
"right now i know nothing. and i'm excited to know nothing."
[Edit:]
non-sequitur addendum:
Friday, March 16, 2012
Stranger Cuddlebuddies and Resolves
I awoke on Sunday with the feeling there was a person in my bed beside me: My girlfriends and I went out the night before, so I figured one it was one of them, but the more I woke up the less that made sense. I turn over and there is a rather tall guy sleeping beside me. Odd it was, I know we didn't make out (i think?) or hook up (i know) or etc. etc. In the future, I would hear we cuddled. I'm so buying this shirt.
Suppose I didn't go to sleep until about 6am, as I texted a girlfriend at 5:42am. So, with the time change, I didn't get up until 11:30 and he had to jet to get back to the hotel with his friends so they could leave (as he lives in my home city). Random. Even more random is that evidently we met because I was sitting on a curb outside the bars alone - my girlfriends tried to get me in their cab, but I guess I wanted to get back to my bed. I hear I told him he could come with me, but none of his other friends could. I have no idea why and we both were baffled by how he ended up in my bed.
I am not a hook-up girl. I'm don't sleep around. But apparently, I like to cuddle with strangers. Or at least offer a bed to ones that otherwise have to sleep on a hotel floor. What?! He was cute ... and 6'8".
So he leaves, but before he does he lies there for a minute playing "Draw Something" and I love Pictionary and got excited and "I want to play too!". So I downloaded it and started a game and he left. About an hour later he asked for my number via the Pictionary game and we spend the next day plus trying to text one another while conversing via "drawing" our words and phone numbers. I found this to be rather amusing.
In the meantime, I tell a guy friend (known henceforth as P.I. - and here's why:) who went to the same school as this kid, that he was a football player there. Forgetting that was his Alma Mater, and having only details like his nickname and age, my friend decided he wanted to investigate. I said okay and if he found a picture I could confirm. Wouldn't you know, not 10 minutes later he knew the kid's name and had a photo and everything. Internets, you amuse me!
So here's where to story goes south. While finally figuring out how to text one another by Tuesday, HG finally chats me on his own after about two months. Remember, I'm just getting my mojo back, but I was okay with lighthearted talk. I like to be friends with people I've dated; I thought I was in a good place to be friendly. Then, I found out the football play guy (FG) grew up in the same area and 'what a hoot it would be if they went to high school together', I thought. So I went on facebook to look at HG's high school - (not the same, by the way) and saw a post by an girl on HGs wall about something I gave him. It struck a cord. Hard. And I was surprised I was so taken back.
With that reaction I realized I was in no position to play the friend card. I mentioned that to him and he told me it was a friend's girlfriend. That wasn't the point; the point was that it bothered me - I needed space until I didn't feel like that again. I didn't want this to end up like another pink elephant situation: Where I feel there is a possibility of 'us' and I'm blindsided by finality. So I said I didn't think I could be friends and he seemed hurt I wanted to walk away (and judging from my past, if I walk away, there's no turning back). I was trying to find a compromise (since I hadn't wanted him to be silent from the start), trying to be understood, trying to explain myself - trying to offer information he didn't have so maybe it could make sense. Everything got lost in translation. And I think both of us went from thinking there was a 50/50 chance of the timing being right and us trying it out when we both have our shit together again (because, if anything, this showed me I have my shit less together than he does. I didn't realized how intertwined I'd let the two situations get in my head. I'd never really recovered from the PE. I thought I had; but the fears of how it made me feel still linger, it seems. Admitting a failed relationship has come to prove far easier to process than getting the wool pulled over your eyes; getting conned when you swore watching you dickhole of a dad taught you how to not get played over.), to a 2 to 5% chance.
I'm upset I was completely misunderstood. I wanted to wait until I returned from New Zealand; until my head was clear again to try to form a friendship with him and see if anything happened from there. But the events stacked up so ill-timed this week that it's hard not to think the universe is speaking again. And this time it says, "move on". So while the miscommunication and tragedy of being completely misunderstood (thanks mercury in retrograde, as it jacks up communication) sucks, I wonder if this is better in the end, because if releases my heart of the hope that stood in the way of me recollecting myself, then that's a really good thing.
I'm always so busy standing in my own way all the time. Analyzing everything. Worrying about things that I can't control. Trying to fix everything. Trying to help everyone (that I don't have the time to notice that maybe I'm broken too). I hope I can let go of these. And regain my confidence and not get lost in someone else's shit everytime things aren't perfect: If someone doesn't make me feel good, I don't have a purpose for them in my life. There's no need for bad energy or hurt feelings without resolve.
I resolve to be better. I resolve to remain to myself until October. I resolve to find my footing and not let anyone let me lose it. I resolve to let things go and faster. I resolve to not hold on to what I shouldn't. I resolve to let myself be free. I resolve.
Suppose I didn't go to sleep until about 6am, as I texted a girlfriend at 5:42am. So, with the time change, I didn't get up until 11:30 and he had to jet to get back to the hotel with his friends so they could leave (as he lives in my home city). Random. Even more random is that evidently we met because I was sitting on a curb outside the bars alone - my girlfriends tried to get me in their cab, but I guess I wanted to get back to my bed. I hear I told him he could come with me, but none of his other friends could. I have no idea why and we both were baffled by how he ended up in my bed.
I am not a hook-up girl. I'm don't sleep around. But apparently, I like to cuddle with strangers. Or at least offer a bed to ones that otherwise have to sleep on a hotel floor. What?! He was cute ... and 6'8".
So he leaves, but before he does he lies there for a minute playing "Draw Something" and I love Pictionary and got excited and "I want to play too!". So I downloaded it and started a game and he left. About an hour later he asked for my number via the Pictionary game and we spend the next day plus trying to text one another while conversing via "drawing" our words and phone numbers. I found this to be rather amusing.
In the meantime, I tell a guy friend (known henceforth as P.I. - and here's why:) who went to the same school as this kid, that he was a football player there. Forgetting that was his Alma Mater, and having only details like his nickname and age, my friend decided he wanted to investigate. I said okay and if he found a picture I could confirm. Wouldn't you know, not 10 minutes later he knew the kid's name and had a photo and everything. Internets, you amuse me!
So here's where to story goes south. While finally figuring out how to text one another by Tuesday, HG finally chats me on his own after about two months. Remember, I'm just getting my mojo back, but I was okay with lighthearted talk. I like to be friends with people I've dated; I thought I was in a good place to be friendly. Then, I found out the football play guy (FG) grew up in the same area and 'what a hoot it would be if they went to high school together', I thought. So I went on facebook to look at HG's high school - (not the same, by the way) and saw a post by an girl on HGs wall about something I gave him. It struck a cord. Hard. And I was surprised I was so taken back.
With that reaction I realized I was in no position to play the friend card. I mentioned that to him and he told me it was a friend's girlfriend. That wasn't the point; the point was that it bothered me - I needed space until I didn't feel like that again. I didn't want this to end up like another pink elephant situation: Where I feel there is a possibility of 'us' and I'm blindsided by finality. So I said I didn't think I could be friends and he seemed hurt I wanted to walk away (and judging from my past, if I walk away, there's no turning back). I was trying to find a compromise (since I hadn't wanted him to be silent from the start), trying to be understood, trying to explain myself - trying to offer information he didn't have so maybe it could make sense. Everything got lost in translation. And I think both of us went from thinking there was a 50/50 chance of the timing being right and us trying it out when we both have our shit together again (because, if anything, this showed me I have my shit less together than he does. I didn't realized how intertwined I'd let the two situations get in my head. I'd never really recovered from the PE. I thought I had; but the fears of how it made me feel still linger, it seems. Admitting a failed relationship has come to prove far easier to process than getting the wool pulled over your eyes; getting conned when you swore watching you dickhole of a dad taught you how to not get played over.), to a 2 to 5% chance.
I'm upset I was completely misunderstood. I wanted to wait until I returned from New Zealand; until my head was clear again to try to form a friendship with him and see if anything happened from there. But the events stacked up so ill-timed this week that it's hard not to think the universe is speaking again. And this time it says, "move on". So while the miscommunication and tragedy of being completely misunderstood (thanks mercury in retrograde, as it jacks up communication) sucks, I wonder if this is better in the end, because if releases my heart of the hope that stood in the way of me recollecting myself, then that's a really good thing.
I'm always so busy standing in my own way all the time. Analyzing everything. Worrying about things that I can't control. Trying to fix everything. Trying to help everyone (that I don't have the time to notice that maybe I'm broken too). I hope I can let go of these. And regain my confidence and not get lost in someone else's shit everytime things aren't perfect: If someone doesn't make me feel good, I don't have a purpose for them in my life. There's no need for bad energy or hurt feelings without resolve.
I resolve to be better. I resolve to remain to myself until October. I resolve to find my footing and not let anyone let me lose it. I resolve to let things go and faster. I resolve to not hold on to what I shouldn't. I resolve to let myself be free. I resolve.
"When you get bit by a snake, you have to suck out all the poison: That's what I had to do, suck all the poison out of my life." .MG.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Pandora at Work
Snapped a photo on my phone today at work. I love music. I live for music. 80% of my life is fueled by and live within the sounds of music. I like to find new Pandora stations to put on, just to find new bands to check-out and download. From my previous post, I've been on a bit The Tallest Man on Earth station kick lately...among other things.
I love music. Without music, life would be a mistake (Neitzsche). And, accidentally, captured in the photo just how it makes me feel: Inspired.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Return of the Mojo
I'm feeling good again. And good alone. And decided that a brunch filled with endless mimosas - a brunch that extends past brunch's end and lasts for 8 hours - steals all of your giggles. I laughed until my face hurt and when I awoke that Monday, I felt like this. And promptly decided - with my brunch buddy in (her hungover) agree-ance - that champagne steals all of your giggles and puts them there in that moment in one place and then you have to work back up to a stock of giggles again. It's a theory. Seems legit.
This past weekend I went on a bar crawl. It was a friend's birthday. So at 3pm I show up and start my day with a cider and a beer (which were the only drinks I paid for all day. Nice.). I steered well clear of vodka - as I promised myself last month - I gave up vodka for "lent", despite my lack of Catholicism. In line for the next bar we made friends with the kids in front of us - one of which darted off to get empanadas while in line and returned with none for us. After waiting in line, we learn our friends went to another after they saw the line so we decided to have one beer (I hate beer - this was huge) and pee. A guy hit on me after I exited the bathroom while he was in line by this clever on: "Hey blondie". I returned a "hi" and he said "that's it?"
Funny ending to this short story. Waiting to finish our beers we just miander around that area and the "blondie" guy returns to his table, which happened to be behind where we were standing -- and it appeared his girlfriend, or lady friend, or "I touch you like this" friend was there. Classy, dude. Next, I noted a drawer between booths and wondered if it opened. A guy who was standing there saw my staring and I said "excuse me, would you try to open that drawer", which led to a short discussion about how he'd done that earlier and found a blue mop he tried to convince me to wear as a wig. I declined. I chugged upon request. We left.
So after about 3 hours of drinking, a few of us refueled on empanadas, inspired by the guy in line earlier, and after briefly getting locked in the empanada place by a 11 year old, we continued our day. We headed to our fourth bar on the crawl - by which time I was not finished with my empanana and thus put it in my purse - and as soon as I enter the door, I was stopped by a guy who looked - to me - uncannily like Dr. Cox (of the Jersey Shore variety). He asked if my friend I walked in with was my boyfriend. "No," I replied, "I don't have a boyfriend". Then he started to chat with me, at which point I excused my eye contact, "Hold on", to grab the rest of the empanada from my purse and continue to eat it at the bar - while this guy hits on me. (Classy. Classic.)
He laughed and continued to talk to me for another 15 minutes or so, then, apparently, not one to take his time, he said "I'm glad I stopped you when you walked in. I couldn't tell with those rings on - which finger they were on. You're cute. So can I take you to dinner?"
"Um. I don't know," I replied...or something like it.
"Well, can I have your number," he responded.
"Okay. You can have my number," I said, fairly certain I added something about that not meaning I'd go to dinner.
For about the next 45 minutes or so, I talked to him and met his friends - who apparently fell in love with me. Then all convinced me what a nice guy Dr. Cox was. I nicknamed one of his friends. And advised the fat one that the fake beard he was sporting looked more like a merkin than a leprachan beard...which apparently went over well with the other guys because they only used the fat guy as a DD and no one was actually at all fond of him. He took it off eventually, after first scoffing at me when he asked what a merkin was and I educated him that it's a pubic wig. Then Jersey Shore Dr. Cox went on about how I was funny - and waiting for my sarcasm to come out - and how I was so pretty - and kept high-fiving me until I declared he had gone over his high-five quota - then kept fist pounding me, until I told him I hate fist pounds (and I do) - then starting hugging me when I said something he liked, until I told him no more hugs. Evidently, this all came off as funny sarcasm, but to me it was all a little overkill. I'm cute, I get it. After he bought me a beer, then his friend (unprompted) bought me a beer, I had to excuse myself to go back with my friends.
Once back there he texted me. Okay, there are rules to dating for this specifically - though admittedly I told him to tell me where he was headed to next and maybe we'd end up there - but the first text was unrelated to the crawl. Pump the brakes, guys. PUMP. THE. BRAKES.
So we leave that bar and I text the guy and tell him I'll go to the bar he's at if there's a cider waiting for me. (I love cider.) So my friends and I give it a "why the hell not" and head back to my first bar presence of the day, with a girlfriend of mine in tow now. We're there briefly and the group starts to defect and I'm winding down for the night, but my girlfriend had gone to the next bar I promised I'd go to if she'd stop at the cider one. So I went to the next bar to find her - only she had left. So I finished my rum and coke (stating at least 20 times "I hate rum" - see: self promise) and left.
I got off the metro and decided to get a midnight sandwich at the local place a block from my house, which sits conveniently next to my metro exit. (Ahh, life, you please me sometimes.) I order my sandwich to go and while I'm in line paying a younger twenty-something guy comes up to me in line - shy, quiet - and says, "you can come eat with us if you want". Pleasantly intoxicated (I might need to stick to this beer/cider thing), I plop down with him and his two friends and my ruben, and he says "sweet".
We chat and carry on while I eat my sandwich like an intoxicated person, which I imagine after 9 hours is rather attractive. But just like the other guys, they all loved me. How funny I was. How pretty my eyes were. "I look like shit, I'm sure," I thought to myself, but just said thanks and carried on. When I finished, I was leaving so they decided to leave and asked where I lived int he neighborhood and hoped they'd see me around.
I woke up, re-hydrated and mentally prepared for an eight mile training run post bar crawl. During my run, which I was thoroughly impressed with myself I got through, I revisited the day prior's events and was pleased. Odd, they were, and I don't want to really go out with the very persistent Dr. Cox (so this should be interesting - do I do the direct 'no thanks' approach or aloofness, I wonder), but it was a good day. I realized I'm starting to feel like myself again. And this is a very good thing.
This past weekend I went on a bar crawl. It was a friend's birthday. So at 3pm I show up and start my day with a cider and a beer (which were the only drinks I paid for all day. Nice.). I steered well clear of vodka - as I promised myself last month - I gave up vodka for "lent", despite my lack of Catholicism. In line for the next bar we made friends with the kids in front of us - one of which darted off to get empanadas while in line and returned with none for us. After waiting in line, we learn our friends went to another after they saw the line so we decided to have one beer (I hate beer - this was huge) and pee. A guy hit on me after I exited the bathroom while he was in line by this clever on: "Hey blondie". I returned a "hi" and he said "that's it?"
Funny ending to this short story. Waiting to finish our beers we just miander around that area and the "blondie" guy returns to his table, which happened to be behind where we were standing -- and it appeared his girlfriend, or lady friend, or "I touch you like this" friend was there. Classy, dude. Next, I noted a drawer between booths and wondered if it opened. A guy who was standing there saw my staring and I said "excuse me, would you try to open that drawer", which led to a short discussion about how he'd done that earlier and found a blue mop he tried to convince me to wear as a wig. I declined. I chugged upon request. We left.
So after about 3 hours of drinking, a few of us refueled on empanadas, inspired by the guy in line earlier, and after briefly getting locked in the empanada place by a 11 year old, we continued our day. We headed to our fourth bar on the crawl - by which time I was not finished with my empanana and thus put it in my purse - and as soon as I enter the door, I was stopped by a guy who looked - to me - uncannily like Dr. Cox (of the Jersey Shore variety). He asked if my friend I walked in with was my boyfriend. "No," I replied, "I don't have a boyfriend". Then he started to chat with me, at which point I excused my eye contact, "Hold on", to grab the rest of the empanada from my purse and continue to eat it at the bar - while this guy hits on me. (
He laughed and continued to talk to me for another 15 minutes or so, then, apparently, not one to take his time, he said "I'm glad I stopped you when you walked in. I couldn't tell with those rings on - which finger they were on. You're cute. So can I take you to dinner?"
"Um. I don't know," I replied...or something like it.
"Well, can I have your number," he responded.
"Okay. You can have my number," I said, fairly certain I added something about that not meaning I'd go to dinner.
For about the next 45 minutes or so, I talked to him and met his friends - who apparently fell in love with me. Then all convinced me what a nice guy Dr. Cox was. I nicknamed one of his friends. And advised the fat one that the fake beard he was sporting looked more like a merkin than a leprachan beard...which apparently went over well with the other guys because they only used the fat guy as a DD and no one was actually at all fond of him. He took it off eventually, after first scoffing at me when he asked what a merkin was and I educated him that it's a pubic wig. Then Jersey Shore Dr. Cox went on about how I was funny - and waiting for my sarcasm to come out - and how I was so pretty - and kept high-fiving me until I declared he had gone over his high-five quota - then kept fist pounding me, until I told him I hate fist pounds (and I do) - then starting hugging me when I said something he liked, until I told him no more hugs. Evidently, this all came off as funny sarcasm, but to me it was all a little overkill. I'm cute, I get it. After he bought me a beer, then his friend (unprompted) bought me a beer, I had to excuse myself to go back with my friends.
Once back there he texted me. Okay, there are rules to dating for this specifically - though admittedly I told him to tell me where he was headed to next and maybe we'd end up there - but the first text was unrelated to the crawl. Pump the brakes, guys. PUMP. THE. BRAKES.
So we leave that bar and I text the guy and tell him I'll go to the bar he's at if there's a cider waiting for me. (I love cider.) So my friends and I give it a "why the hell not" and head back to my first bar presence of the day, with a girlfriend of mine in tow now. We're there briefly and the group starts to defect and I'm winding down for the night, but my girlfriend had gone to the next bar I promised I'd go to if she'd stop at the cider one. So I went to the next bar to find her - only she had left. So I finished my rum and coke (stating at least 20 times "I hate rum" - see: self promise) and left.
I got off the metro and decided to get a midnight sandwich at the local place a block from my house, which sits conveniently next to my metro exit. (Ahh, life, you please me sometimes.) I order my sandwich to go and while I'm in line paying a younger twenty-something guy comes up to me in line - shy, quiet - and says, "you can come eat with us if you want". Pleasantly intoxicated (I might need to stick to this beer/cider thing), I plop down with him and his two friends and my ruben, and he says "sweet".
We chat and carry on while I eat my sandwich like an intoxicated person, which I imagine after 9 hours is rather attractive. But just like the other guys, they all loved me. How funny I was. How pretty my eyes were. "I look like shit, I'm sure," I thought to myself, but just said thanks and carried on. When I finished, I was leaving so they decided to leave and asked where I lived int he neighborhood and hoped they'd see me around.
I woke up, re-hydrated and mentally prepared for an eight mile training run post bar crawl. During my run, which I was thoroughly impressed with myself I got through, I revisited the day prior's events and was pleased. Odd, they were, and I don't want to really go out with the very persistent Dr. Cox (so this should be interesting - do I do the direct 'no thanks' approach or aloofness, I wonder), but it was a good day. I realized I'm starting to feel like myself again. And this is a very good thing.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)