The Virginity Monologues

So, I recently discovered that there is code that a person can install on their myspace page that will tell you who's been visiting your page. Since Scott is a computer programmer and has a mild obsession with his myspace page, I'm going to guess that he probably has the code installed, which then stands to reason, that he also has a very keen understanding of exactly how much I checked his page. Yikes!

Sometimes, when I am particularly hungry, I will stop at the deli next to my office in the morning for my favorite breakfast treat- a toasted sesame bagel with veggie cream cheese. And every time I go in, I ask the nice man behind the counter to only put half the normal amount of cream cheese (the normal amount being approximately 8 tablespoons) on my bagel. He never complies with my request. He always puts the full amount. I don't think he can fathom the concept of someone NOT wanting the full amount of cream cheese. Once, the girl in line in front of me, requested that they scoop out of some of the bagel to make room for more cream cheese. BLEGH.

Interesting comments made to me this weekend:

I was in at Washington Mutual ATM, and there was a man next to me who finished before me. As he walked out of the bank, he said to me, "Have a nice day with your sexy ass toes."

I turned around, "Are you talking to me?"

"Yeah," he said, "they're suckable."

Weird. Weird.

On Sunday, my roommate and I were on the subway, heading for Brighton Beach, for a little sun and some Russian food. The train was relatively empty, as we were nearing the end of the line. The man across from us, asked us, "Excuse me, can you tell me how many stops it is to Coney Island?"

Roommate and I check the map directly behind us and count out the stops for the man.

"Thank you," he said, "but I didn't really need to know. I was manipulating you, because I wanted to tell you that you're pretty."

Even weirder.

Dear Scott-

It's been a week and a half since I terminated 'us'. You have respected my wishes that you never contact me ever again and your presence has been blessedly absent from my phone and my life. I sometimes get the urge to contact you- I wonder if you miss me, or if you feel any remorse over your actions. But mostly, I just want you to know what an absolute dick you are. I want to write you a perfectly worded letter about all the things that I hate about you. The worse part is that you tried to convince me on multiple occasions that you were a 'good guy'. You promised to prove it to me. You promised me that you would make the thin ice that you were on grow thicker. You even demonstrated what it would look like.

You never once followed through on any of those promises. Instead, I walked away, a little bit shattered, but firm in my belief that you are, without a doubt, the biggest jerk that I have ever met.

I hope that someday you are on the receiving end of a game- played at the expense of your heart, and that you remember me, and that you hate yourself for what you did to me.

Sincerely-
Chloe

Labels: Scott

It's the end of Memorial Day weekend and my street is still HOPPING, and will continue to hop for many hours still. It's fun living in my neighborhood and being part of a community where everyone has been around for years and years. They even invite me to their barbeques and are always very welcoming to me. It's weird how much this place has begun to feel like home. Like I belong.

All I really have to show for the weekend is a couple of shirts from Banana Republic (my most favorite store EVER), finally getting around to buying a potato peeler (I LOVE potatoes) and one great date under my belt, which I have instituted a Not-Talking-About-It-Rule as I'm trying desperately not to jinx myself and ruin everything. I want this to happen naturally. Which means I have to keep the over-analysis at a minimum. Which essentially means turning myself into a different person. I'm doing surprisingly well. If things continue to develop, I will definitely tell about it. If not, then I don't have to write another post about getting fucked over and we all win.

I feel like I'm saying this all the time, but I have to admit to a certain contentment at this time of my life. Sure, things aren't perfect, I mean HELLO- could I possibly have worse taste in men? But seriously, life is pretty fucking phenomenal right now. I find myself talking about the people that mean a lot to me (Abby, Email Boy, Karen, L, etc, etc) and I realize that I am luckiest person in the whole world to have the people in my life that I do. I have great friends. I have a great family. I have a great job. I have a great life. You know what the best part is- I deserve this.

I got a new bed last night. One of my roommates bought this gorgeous queen-sized bed a few months ago, and then decided to move back home and couldn't take her bed with her. Because I am tired of sleeping on a ridiculously juvenile twin size bed, I ecstatically took her up on her offer to buy it from her when she left. Especially since, as her roommate, I know for a fact that nothing but sleeping has taken place on that bed.

Last night, I went out directly after work with Mr. Wrong, Jake and their crew. I found myself talking to one of Mr. Wrong's very close friends and he offered to come over and help me set up the bed (with more implied, of course). I have been out-of-control horny lately and the offer was insanely tempting. He is particularly gorgeous and, him and I have hooked up a couple of times previously. In a moment of uncharacteristic self-control, I opted out and went home alone to set up the bed by myself.

I don't want to play those games anymore. I don't want to pit them against each other. I don't want to be in the middle of a casual sex triangle. It's not even remotely appealing. Is that what becoming an adult is? Weighing the repercussions against the actions, and finding that even though you may really, really want something, it inevitably- isn't worth it?

Weird.

We called each other about 10 times in the 20 minutes before 7:00 pm, our agreed upon meeting time.

"Are you there yet?"

"I'm here, where the fuck are you?"

"Which blocks is it between?"

"Are they showing the Mets game?"

"Don't order until I get there!"

And finally, after months of only text messaging, emailing and a few phone calls, Email Boy and I were in each other's presence again for Happy Hour Martini night. We peruse the martini menu, he starts out with a Cosmo, and I get the Black Rasberry. We are attempting to decide on something to eat, but we can't stop talking to each other long enough to look at the menus. Conversation flows and flows and flows. He tells me about his psychotic ex-girlfriend (I have ALWAYS wanted to know that story) and I tell him about losing my virginity. Another round of martinis.

He quizzes me on baseball knowledge after I make a 'tagging up' reference and he is suitably impressed.

Then, another round of martinis.

He tells me that he saves all of my text messages. So he doesn't lose any of them, he downloads them onto his computer, because sometimes, when he's bored, he likes to read through them. Apparently, I am the only person who gets the 8 am text messages.

And another round of martinis.

We are both relatively bombed. We've been talking about sex for the last hour (interspersed with rants and raves about the Mets game).

It's time to go home. We make plans to do it again in 2 weeks time.

The whole point of the evening was that I was taking HIM out for his birthday. When the check comes, a scuffle ensues over who is paying. He is stronger than me, so he wins. What the fuck is that about? Why was he paying for his birthday drinks?!?!?

I get home and check out myspace, because I know he's already left me a comment on my page. Sure enough, there it is.

I love him.

Labels: Email Boy

I am wickedly tired today. I was in mega-boring meetings all morning where I struggled to stay awake. Blegh.

Still no word from Ray- he of The Great Date fame. Not too upset about it. I wasn't hugely emotionally attached to him. But definitely a little confused about his sudden disappearance. Is this because I didn't come up to his place when he asked? Would a guy have really forked over that much dough (dinner, concert tickets, drinks, cabs) just to get laid? That seems weird to me, but I'll admit that I'm still fairly naive in these matters. It takes me a while to get it when I'm only being pursued for nailing purposes (maybe because the concept of pursuing me strictly for the purpose of nailing me is SERIOUSLY whacked out, in my opinion. I mean, have you seen my ass?!?!)

Anyway. All assholes are on the back burner tonight, as I'm going out with my beloved Email Boy this evening. It was his birthday a few weeks ago and I missed all celebrations due to being out of town. He likes his drinks on the fruity side, so I promised him a Girls' Night Out to make up for my lack of appearance at his birthday fiesta. Apparently he knows a great bar with half price cosmos for happy hour, and we will spend all evening attempting to drink the other person under the table, hopefully this will not lead to any ridiculous behavior like me attempting to make out with him. There were about 4 HILARIOUS phone conversations last night regarding confirmation of tonights events as he's mildly slow on the uptake. Dear god, I love him.

Labels: Email Boy

The weekend was... interesting.

Friday night was potentially one of the best nights of my life. I met up with the guy, Ray, that I met at Marc's party for a promotion-getting celebratory dinner. He was the perfect gentleman. He ordered a bottle of my favorite wine, we shared an appetizer and he let me eat most of the dessert. Then we cabbed it to Radio City Music Hall for The Best Concert of My Life. People who made appearances at The Roots concert- Mos Def (I love him, I love him, I love him), Erykah Badu, Dave Chapelle, Jay-Z. Seriously. My cheeks HURT from smiling so much. And it was the first time in my life that I never wanted the concert to end. UNBELIEVABLE. After the concert, we went and played pool for a few hours. And it was very comfortable, as if we had known each other for months, instead of it being a first date. And he couldn't stop kissing me. He kissed me when he would leave to go get drinks. He would kiss me when I said thank you for the drinks. Any excuse to kiss- he found it. It was cute.

We left around 2 am and shared a cab, which went to his place first, as I live farther uptown than him. In the cab outside his place, he tried to get me to come up, but I was firm in my refusal and continued on my way home. He called me to make sure I got home okay. Very sweet.

Saturday morning I met some friends for delicious, delicious brunch. Then the mani/pedi and then because the water was turned off in my building, I went to the gym, did some good solid running then had to shower there. Not my favorite thing. Scott and I had plans (which had been in the works for over 2 weeks) for me to go over to his place and he would cook me dinner.

I called him at 5:45. Here's how the conversation went:

Scott: Hey
Me: Hey, what's going on?
Scott: I'm just about to cut my cousin's hair.
Me: Okay, are we still on for tonight?
Scott: yeah, I'll call you back as soon as I'm done.

An hour later, nothing from The Big Dumb animal and I am making plans with my best friend. I go to meet her for dinner and at 9:00, I write the following text message:

We're done. Please don't contact me ever again.

I hand the phone to Karen and make her send it for me, because I don't think I can do it. She pushes 'Send' and hands the phone back to me as tears stream down my face right in the middle of Vynl. I should feel liberated. He can't hurt me anymore. Instead, I just feel sad.

Karen and I go to a movie and Ray calls while I am in the movie. I call him back later and he thanks ME for going out with HIM, asks me if I want to get together the next day (Sunday). I say sure, he says he'll call me and then I just go to bed.

Sunday comes and goes- no call from Ray. I delete his number out of my phone and spend the rest of the evening solving everyone else's problems, but no clarity on how to solve my own.

Labels: Scott

We've got a live one here!

Here's the weekend lineup, it's gonna be a DOOZY:

Tonight:
Directly after work I am meeting The Nice Boy that I met at Marc's party a few weeks ago to grab some grub at a restaurant in Alphabet City, then he is taking me to The Roots concert. After that he is taking me out to celebrate the promotion that I got yesterday (I am officially an adult with a promotion and a raise in Corporate America under my belt! Both my parents gushed with pride!). Yeehaw!

Tomorrow (Saturday):
-Brunch first thing with my nutso friend, Cammy, at the best brunch place in all of New York City, Alice's Tea Cup. I HIGHLY recommend the eggs benedict on a ham and cheese scone. HEAVEN in your mouth. Oh dear god, I must stop talking about it because I am drooling over my keyboard.
-Then a desperately needed manicure/pedicure at my favorite little place with the chairs that have built in massagers. It's 60 minutes of pure, undiluted joy.
-Laundry. IMPERATIVE.
-Dinner at Scott's place, which will most likely turn into a sleepover (he definitely thinks so, I am still going back and forth in my head). He's been amazingly consistent this week with the calls and the texts and the making me laugh my head off. I haven't been reporting much, because I'm attempting to do less posts about the assholes in my life.

Sunday:
I don't honestly know. Probably recovering from the previous 2 days. Maybe talking Karen into meeting me at IHOP, one of my most favorite places. And finishing my new (signed by the author, because I'm a geek and go to book signings) book by Marian Keyes, my favorite author.

To My Dear, Loving Family-

Try as you might, there are no words that can be said that will induce me to move back home. The reason you all give for this proposed move, 'family', means something different to me than to you. You all have your own families- your own spouses, your own children, your own homes and your own cars. It's not like it was when we were all under 18, we won't be living in the same house, occasionally punching each other in the face and playing the Farming Game until 4 am. Those days are gone, replaced by early nights of child-tending and the occasional subdued act of sex which is now permitted to you by rights of God, having held on so tightly to the tenets of our religion. You mean the world to me, you do! My nieces and nephews are the joy of my life and I love them with enough ferocity as if they were my own children.

But I'm living my life for me. I have no desire to move back to Smalltown, USA, where I can run into every single person that I went to high school with, now married and procreating and feigning delight at my life, but secretly thinking that there must be something horribly wrong with me to be 28 (gasp of horror!) and NOT MARRIED!

I recognize that you all think that marriage must be first and foremost on my To-Do list, but that is because you are all suffering under the delusion that I am still holding tight to the No Sex Before Marriage rule. I assure that this is no longer a concern for me. I am quite satisfied.

I know what you see me as. The built-in babysitter. The cool accessory to show-off to your friends, with my New York wardrobe and an employee badge guaranteed to impress. It's a role I play the second my plane touches down.

I'd rather shoot myself in the head with a rusty nail then leave the comfort of my chaotic, frenzied, expensive, hedonistic, sublime life in The Big Apple.

I think I'll stay in New York a little longer, if you don't mind.

All my love-
Chloe

Dear Tourists Outside Whatever Gargantuan Hotel is on Broadway between 40th and 41st-

I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciated one of you whiny bitches yelling loud enough for me to hear, "I can't believe she just slammed into you!", as I continued on my journey to the subway yesterday after a minor incident involving myself and the elbow of one of you in one of the most inconsiderate groups of tourists I have ever had the misfortune to encounter.

And just to set things straight, I did not slam into anybody. I was walking along the sidewalk, in a perfectly straight line with enough space in between me and the large group of you blocking our sidewalk to insure that there would be no touching, I may have been mildly distracted by the hideousness of one of your skirts, but I managed to keep my wits about me. Unfortunately, one of the taller of your immature boys wasn't paying attention, as he was so in awe of our city, that he walked backward, directly into me, slamming his elbow into my head. That's right, my head. In these situations, I generally find that it's better if I just don't say anything, to avoid having to involve men in uniform later. So, I just kept walking. Which may have implied some sort of guilt on my part, although there was none, thus prompting the yelling that I mentioned previously.

I can't thank you enough for the constant irritation that you are to those of us trying to live here.

Sincerely-
Chloe
A New Yorker

So, I'm working on moving past Scott, talking to my best friend about taking a break from all men, blah, blah, blah and actively avoiding checking two things- myspace and my phone.

I can only go so long without checking my phone and I check it briefly when I get back from lunch. A text message. In my heart I want it to be Scott, in my head I'm thinking it's my nutso friend, Cammy, who it always ends up being everytime I'm hoping for some communicado from my dark-skinned amour.

Wrong on both counts.

"Hello sweetheart."

From: Marc

Did I mention that I saw him recently? He had a party at his house. I went, I shook my ass and had a phenomenal time. I met an interesting guy (said he would call, OF COURSE he didn't) who walked me to the corner and stayed with me until I caught a cab. As we were leaving, we passed Marc, who grabbed me and kissed my cheeks until I had to push him away. He smacked me on the arm everytime he passed me and got a little freaky with me once when I was dancing.

I'm not reading anything into anything here. It's just interesting, his... timing.

Labels: Marc

Well, 4 flights and about 6,000 miles later, I am a very exhausted girl. I discovered the true horror of flying this weekend when I was seated in the middle seats for my two longest flights, one of which was a straight shot from San Francisco to JFK. That's 5 hours of being smushed between a woman who kept snorting some sort of nasal medication up her nostrils and a man who clearly had not bathed or brushed his teeth in approximately 72 hours. Followed by a 2 hour subway ride on the local running A train, and I have never been more grateful to be home, ever.

It's late, but my body is still on West Coast time and I can't sleep. I'm still PMSy emotional and wanting a clear solution to the Scott situation and not finding it. Although the conondrum may be completely taken out of my hands, as he came over on Thursday night to see me before I left and I have barely heard from him since (a few text messages). It seems to be a weird sort of pattern developing for me. The last two men that I have let come over to my house and they have then subsequently stuck their hands down my pants, have then proceeded to drop out of my life at the speed of light. I am not letting another man come over to my house again, I have decided. It's probably for the best. I was struggling with being blase about the relationship and his complete lack of dependability was causing me to have uncharactistic bursts of rage. If only I didn't like him so much, it would be so much easier to accept things for what they are and just walk away. I deleted all of his contact information from my phone tonight, my first step in removing someone from my life. Everyone cross their fingers that I can keep him out. He's not good for me and I know, but my heart is weak and I want to know that someone cares for me, besides my mother. And having his arms around me makes me feel safe in a way that I haven't felt in a long, long, long time, if ever.

Must stop crying....

Labels: Scott

Going home tomorrow for 4 days, and oh god, do I need it. It'll be nieces and nephews and brothers and sisters and my mom.

Hopefully by the time I get back, I'll be in the right frame of mind to stop crying over undeserving men and put them in their rightful place- out of my life forever.

MUAH to you all.

I am emotional. I'm totally PMSing and I feel like I'm constantly on the verge of tears. It's no fun. And I've been thinking this morning, about how I never show love to the important people in my life. I come off as a man hater- but there are lots in my life that I love. Today is a love letter to them.

Email Boy-

I love you because you're the only person I've ever met who's humor is almost identical to mine. I love you because your text messages make me laugh out loud at inappropriate times and when you text me at 8 am, I'm always late to work because I can't stop myself from responding every time you write. I love you because you love maps. I love you because I've known you for 2 years and you've always been a respectful gentleman and have only just recently shown me your dirty side (the text message about how a new car is like a new girlfriend? HILARIOUS!). I love you because we have enough inside jokes to fill a large novel, and they never stop being funny. I love you because you surprise me with compliments and I never have to doubt their sincerity. I love you because I know if I needed you, you would be there.

Kevin-

I love you because you want what's best for me. I love you because you yell at me about sleeping around and pull my hair when I say 'fuck'. I love you because you're so strong, because you've been through SO much in your lifetime, and you've come out of it as an amazing, amazing person. I love you because you understand how important it is to treat the people in your life with respect. I love you because you love your mom so much. I love you because you let me do your dishes for you on Thanksgiving after you sliced your finger open carving a turkey. I love you because you invited me to Thanksgiving dinner and your Destination Birthday Party, which I am so excited for. I love you because I've needed you, and you've been there. Every single time.

Andy-

I love you because you're the most beautiful man ever to walk the face of the earth and you always get so embarrassed when I mention it. I love you because when we make plans, no matter how far in advance (such is your schedule), you always follow through, or reschedule in an appropriate manner. I love you because you let me stay at your apartment when the MTA was threatening to strike and made me a bed on the most fabulous egyptian cotton sheets. I love you because you're not afraid to cry in front of me. I love you because you've told me some of your deepest darkest secrets and they only show how amazing you truly are. I love you because you see the real me, in any situation, and hate it when I am untrue to that.

Shaun-

I love you because you're you. I love you because we've fought tooth and nail over the most ridiculous issues and you NEVER let me come out on top. I love you because you took me home with you twice and introduced me to your amazing family, who I will love forever. I love you because you've maintained our friendship even though we've been 2000 miles apart and haven't seen each other in almost 3 years and you've even gotten married and become a father in that time, an excuse for a lesser man to drop off the face of the earth. I love you because you see beauty in me inside and out and you aren't afraid to tell me that. I love you because I've cried to you a lot, and you still love me. I love you because you don't judge me.

See, I'm not such a bitter horrible person! Baby steps.....

I feel so many things right now.

Happy. I've been talking to my former stepsister, Allison, all morning. How much we've both changed. I feel like I could spend hours talking to her and never run out of things to say. She's clearly been through some pretty hard times herself and has managed to come out on top. It was from her where I found the strength that I've been needing.

Sad/Lost Little Girl. I talked to Allison about Scott. About my frustrations with the situation and my fears of playing a game where I'm unsure of the rules and almost assuredly going to end up hurt. She asked me if I was going to accept it, or finally take charge of my needs and my feelings. She told me she knew I deserved better. But what if I don't get any better? I want to get rid of Scott. I don't want someone in my life who isn't willing to work for me. I don't want to just be convenient. I want someone to inconvenience themselves for me FOR ONCE. But I'm afraid of letting go of Scott. I like him and I know he likes me on some level. I know he's very physically attracted to me and that feels good.

I find myself at an impasse.

I have ALWAYS said that I would rather be alone for the right reasons, than with someone for the wrong ones.

I guess it's time to make that a reality.

Labels: Scott

Holy Fuck. Myspace is totally fucking up my life. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Reason #1- I'm obsessive about checking out Scott's page. So much of his life shows up in his fucking comments, I am using it as a tool to figure him out. And failing miserably, I might add. All I'm getting is that he knows a fucking lot of people and they all fucking love him.

Reason #2- There are parts of my life that I want to spend the rest of my life forgetting. Most of them involve the second woman my father married. For 13 years, she reigned supreme as the Evilest Stepmom Ever to Walk the Earth. She made my life hell and effectively destroyed my relationship with my dad (he let her though, so he's a putz regardless). She had 2 daughters. One was my age exactly. We spent most of our childhood having a love/hate relationship. She made me break up with her boyfriends for her and told on me constantly. When we reached our teens, our parents would sometimes leave us alone for an entire day (foolish people). The second the car pulled out we would raid the liquor cabinet and she once got so drunk she fell in their bathtub and poured Mr. Bubble all over her head. There are some surprisingly good memories.

She just emailed me on my myspace page. I haven't seen or spoken to her in over 10 years. I have no idea what to even say.

I bet Karen some hot chocolate at City Bakery that Scott would not show up on Friday. I lost. We ended up at what was potentially the emptiest lounge in all of Manhattan on 10th Ave. But that was fine with us. We weren't interested in being with lots of people. We found a couch in the back and talked for hours. We discussed religion. I accused him of being too smooth for his own good. He admired my feet.

Then, he kissed me. WHOO BOY, could this man kiss. Hands down- the next half hour was the best kissing experience of my life. Around 3ish, it was time for me to go home. Making out can only go so far before you either need to go home together or get the hell away from each other. I was pleasantly surprised when he didn't even try to get me to go home with him. He walked me out, kissed me a few more times, put me in a cab and ordered me to call him when I got home, so he knew I'd gotten home safely.

Sure, he was a gentlemen. Sure, he followed through, for once. Sure, he was respectful. But I still don't trust him. And I'm fairly certain that he's playing me. What I don't understand is, for what purpose? I mean, I'm cute, smart and funny, but I'm NOT the type of girl that men go after just for the thrill of the chase and the need to conquer. Based on everything that has happened, I should be running in the opposite direction. But I'm interested enough to find out how this plays out, to let this continue.

I have adjusted my expectations and emotions accordingly. I have removed them from the equation. I no longer contact him. I let all contact be initiated by him. I never give him too much information about what I want from him. When he is text messaging me about how wonderful it is to be with me, I'm barely reciprocating. I don't mention when he has again failed to do something he said he would do, I don't want him to know that I even noticed.

I'm playing him right back.

Why? Because I want to win.

Labels: Scott

Happy Friday!

Quite frankly, I hate myself for what I'm about to tell you. I agreed to meet Scott tonight. Although I'm about 85% positive that he will again fail to follow through, not quite understanding what unbelievably thin ice he is on, and then he will be cut off forever and ever, amen.

So my brother's wife had a baby yesterday. I have a new nephew! And so, in a moment of pure impulsiveness, I bought a ticket home for next weekend, which was not expensive as you'd think, considering how last minute it is. I'm going to surprise my mother for Mother's Day and hold the new baby. I should show her the tattoo, that would REALLY make her Mother's Day special!! Who's with me?

Labels: Scott

So I just got back from my woman-type doctor. It was a mildly unpleasant, but necessary experience. And due to the changes in my lifestyle over the last year, I requested tests for everything. You can't ever be too safe, is my motto!

I've been debating about what to tell about some communication that took place last night. Everyone said I would hear from him again, but I thought surely that Scott was gone for good. I was wrong. I received a text message from him last night. We went back and forth for a few hours, him groveling and with surprisingly valid explanations and me being a bitch. Luckily, I had the lovely Krissi, who is absolutely one of the coolest chicks ever, there to offer me support (BTW- how rude was I, texting during dinner? I offer my sincerest apologies, K).

Despite my bitchiness, he still called later that evening. We talked. We argued about whether Snuffleupagus was brown or blue (BROWN is the correct answer, I win!). He declared me to be amazing and 'fly'. I told him if he really thought that then he should stop treating me like shit.

I'm really confused about this one. I don't understand why he keeps coming back. I don't trust him. But I love talking to him and quite frankly, he's so hot, he short circuits my brain.

ARGH.

Labels: Scott

Is it too late to become a lesbian? Because, honestly, it's starting to look like a preferable alternative to the ridiculousness that is my dating life.

Scott- DEFINITELY lied. Absolutely. Irrevocably. There was always a smidgen of a chance that someone he knew really had gotten shot. Due to his out-of-control obsession with myspace, I knew that the truth would come out in comments from friends. I was right. Sometimes, I hate being right. But there it was today- a comment from a friend telling him how glad they were he could make it out on Saturday night.

FUCK YOU TOO.

This came on the morning after my Official Worst Date Ever. No lies. We met up in the West Village. For the sake of sparing time, we'll just call him Jerk. We conversed briefly at the point of meeting, I mentioned that my feet were hurting after a long day in 3 inch heels. We head off to go get some beer, and when I ask him if it's far, he doesn't even bat an eye when he answers, 'No'.

20 blocks, or 1.04 miles LATER, we arrive at our destination (which, incidentally, is a place that I've been to previously numerous times with... Mr. Wrong). I've provided a map here so you can understand exactly how far I walked in 3 fucking-inch heels because the bastard was too cheap for a cab. The purple line being, obviously, our route. Good times!

While we drank beer, he proceeded to offend me on almost every single issue that is important to me. He spent more time looking at my boobs then my face. He argued with me and challenged me on every single statement that came out of my mouth, including, but not limited to- the color of my eyes. Because after having them for 28 years, I might not be 100% accurate on their color. After explaining to him about my tattoo and how it represents finally living my life on my own terms, he actually said to me, and I'm not making this up, "You have no idea what it means to live your life on your own terms."

WHAT THE FUCK. As soon as it was socially acceptable, I made the excuse that I told my friend I would come and see her at work, and that I needed to go. We went up to the bar to pay the tab and the ABSOLUTE BASTARD nickel and dimed me on his half/my half. I SHIT YOU NOT.

I really did go and see Michelle at work, because I could drink a lot there at a discounted price. Although, all the alcohol in the world isn't going to take away these unfortunate, unfortunate incidences.

Quite frankly, Mr. Wrong doesn't look so bad now.

Labels: Scott

It's that time of year when I start wearing flip-flops (remember when we called them thongs, but now we can't cause it's kind of dirty) for my morning commute and then change into my heels at work. But it's been so long since I wore completely flat shoes that my legs are rioting against it and my calves hurt all the time. Apparently my flip-flop muscles need a little working out.

So, can we talk about how absolutely true the cliche Feast or Famine is? Because, quite frankly, I am considering crowning myself Queen of Rejection. I don't know that I can put into words the insane amounts of rejection that I have been experiencing lately. Not even Email Boy, who I once dubbed Text Message Whore, won't return my text messages (which is actually probably for the best, as I am WAY over on my allotted monthly text messages). I haven't heard from Scott since The Great Text Message Lie on Saturday night, despite assurances from almost everyone I've talked to that he would still have the cojones to call again. And even though, I would prefer not to hear from him, so as not to have to even tempt my total lack of self-control, it smarts a little that he can shut me out so quickly after a month of rampant daily communication.

I have spent a lot of time contemplating what is the active ingredient in my Man Repellant, because it's apparently in OVERDRIVE these days, and I haven't been able to reach a solid conclusion. It's not my looks, I'm generally described as pretty/cute/beautiful (on a good day), although I'm sure that some would disagree. It could be the size of my ass, but that's often as much of an allurement as it is a deterrent. I'll openly admit that I am tough and hard and have high expectations, and I enjoy knowing that I intimidate people. Plus, it's very difficult to show people the real me, all part of my vulnerability issues.

Last night, I prayed for kindness.

Maybe that's it.

Oh, my life. Quite frankly, if I wasn't actually living it, I don't know if I would believe it.

Friday- New Boy, Scott, sent me a text message telling me he didn't have to work that night and did I want to meet up later? I was having dinner with my girlfriends, but I told him I would call him afterwards and we can meet up then, probably around 11ish. 10:45, I call him, he doesn't answer, but I leave him a message and then head home. I'm not in the mood to hang out in the West Village for hours waiting for a semi-unreliable boy. Suprisingly, I do have standards.

12:30, I get a text message from him. No apologies, no explanations, but apparently wishing he could see me. I text him the equivalent of a bitch-slap. I'm not pleased at being blown off and I make it clear. Text messaging ends around 3, nothing resolved.

The next day, he calls me around 4:30. He'd been out with his boys, bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. Actually, I think he was telling me the truth, but whatever. He asks if I want to go out that night, and in a moment of complete lack of self-control, I say yes. But in my head I am considering the odds of him actually following through, and they don't look good. We make plans to see a movie, we've got time and place all figured out and I'm thinking that this might actually happen. He says he's going to jump in the shower and he'll call me when he's ready.

An hour later- I've heard nothing. I start to get PISSED and call Michelle to start working on some other plans. While I'm on the phone to Michelle, I get the following text message and I swear to God that I am not making this up-

'My godbrother got shot in BK, I'm sorry but I have to go out there. I apologize again.'

I have relayed the story of this text message to a lot of people in the ensuing days. Out of all of them, only ONE person believes it and it's not me (that Abby, such a sucker!). The fact that I haven't heard from him since, only reinforces the He's-a-Dirty-Liar theory.

I ended up going out with Michelle that night, hooked up with a Crazy Irish Guy, but just as things were getting hot, I had the actual honest-to-God thought in my head, "I can't have sex with this guy, he's white!" I then proceeded to stop everything, exercised my prerogative as a woman and told him I couldn't and just wanted to go to sleep. Which wasn't completely about him being white, it was more that I wasn't interested in having sex with someone I had known less than 5 hours. Next day reaction: SO, SO glad I didn't go through with it.

Once I got over my initial anger, I managed to find a great deal of hilarity in the situation, especially after talking to Abby last night and learning of her own interesting adventures in Dating Hell. She hooked up with a guy, and then had to sneak out the next morning because he lived with his Grandma and she couldn't know Abby was there. To make everything worse, he told her that Granny would be especially upset about her, because she's NOT WHITE (she's half-white, half-Panamanian).

YOU CAN'T MAKE THIS SHIT UP!

Labels: Scott