The Virginity Monologues

There's still too many men. And not enough interest on my part. I want to be alone, so I head home after work. I put on my best face that demands to be left alone, my earphones in and do my best not to meet anyone's eyes.

I think about the very sweet and kind boy with waist length dreads, who I've been on enough dates to sleep with, but who doesn't seem to have any friends or much passion for life and is terrible in bed.

I think about the boy I recently met with the finest pair of abs I've ever seen a picture of, who shares my sexual excitement for the gentle purr of a Porsche engine, with a meaningful, selfless career and a continued desire for higher education and I can't seem to summon a great deal of enthusiasm for our sharpied-in date for next Wednesday.

I reflect on the date I had last Saturday night with a beautiful pair of biceps, attached to a pretty face, not much of a brain and a staggeringly inept ability to kiss.

Then, I think about the text message that came in this afternoon from the Mr. 11, who's still in Miami, but each week brings us closer to May, the time when he moves back to New York. I don't love him. I like him. He's smart, smarter than me and ambitious. He's always there at the other end of the phone, ready to assure me that he misses me or indulge me in a round of spectacularly dirty texting and has been known to count down the hours until we see each other again. He's always been good to me and he's someone beautiful who has no qualms in telling me over and over again how beautiful he thinks I am. And I wonder why this can't be enough for me long term. Are my expectations too high? Do I want too much???

Does my ideal combination of hot, funny, smart, clever, witty, tender and loving exist? If not, what can I compromise on? I'm okay without tender. I don't actually need tender. In fact, sometimes, I find tender to be nauseating and silly. And okay, so Mr. 11 isn't exactly gut-bustingly funny. But that's what my martini nights with Email Boy are for. Nights when we get falling-down drunk, draw graphs on napkins about our levels of drunkeness, then consider taking home chairs in large trash piles on the street that may or may not have been covered in poo then make the other person smell our hand to make sure it's doesn't smell like poo.

Maybe one man isn't enough on his own. Maybe I will need Email Boy to be a part of my life forever, to fill in the cracks. :)

Today's Title from: Cigarettes and Coffee by Otis Redding

Labels: Email Boy, Mr. 11

I am only a minute or so late to meet Email Boy in the West Village and as I hurry up the steps of the Christopher-Sheridan stop. His back is to me and he doesn't see me, so I sneak up behind him and grab his ass as hard as I can. He whips around at lightning speed, fist raised and clenched- ready to do battle.

I laugh myself silly.

We saunter down West 4th street to one of my most favorite restaurants, Smorgas Chef, for an evening of shit-talking, and meatballs. I am telling him the story of having stayed at Oscar's the previous night and the conversation that changed everything for me with Oscar that morning.

Oscar and I had a misunderstanding, and in my typical fashion, I overreacted. I tell Email Boy about the statement that came out of my mouth in the midst of this understanding with Oscar-

"I'm sorry, but I'm terrible in relationships."

As this statement is coming out of my mouth, my mind kicks into high gear. I've been a little worried that I have been reading more into this situation with Oscar than intended. I've been afraid that I have been committing and he has is still thinking this is just casually dating. So, as the word 'relationship' comes bursting forth from my lips, I wonder how he will react. I expect him to say something to the tune of, "whoa nelly, lets not get ahead of ourselves here with this relationship business."

Oscar doesn't sugarcoat. And he doesn't say things just because he thinks it what I want to hear. He has no qualms about giving the straight-up honest truth.

He does not dissuade me of my ridiculous notions. Instead he says, "you're telling me!"

And I am not deluding myself. We are, in fact, in a relationship.

Email Boy listens to my story, stunned. By this time we are sitting at our table and have already ordered.

"Is this your first committed, sexually active relationship?" he asks.

I blush. I am embarrassed that this is the truth at 29.

I change the subject. We spend the rest of dinner discussing his horrific taste in women and what it is about him that makes every female he spends more than 2 minutes with turn into a raving psychotic stalker. While I am with him, one girl in particular calls twice. And texts. Its loony to watch. I am so careful with my actions towards men, especially in a new dating situation, that I cannot understand these women literally throwing themselves at him. If I wasn't watching it firsthand, I don't know that I would believe it.

After dinner he suggests a movie. We wander over to Union Square, load up on some candy at Duane Reade and get ourselves some tickets to Bourne Ultimatum. I am still going off of very little sleep for weeks, and having only gotten 2 hours worth the night before. Full of good food in a very dark theater, my body gives up the fight and I sleep through half of the movie. Email Boy nudges me constantly, but I'm too warm and cozy and absolutely content.

A contentment that reaches all the way to the deep, dark corners of my soul.

I have a great apartment that I get to keep living in- in New York City.

I have THE VERY BEST friends.

I have a boyfriend that in my unguarded moments will admit to being absolutely bat-shit nuts about.

Today's Title from: Someone Else's Life by Joshua Radin

Labels: Email Boy, Oscar

"I'm just going to warn you now," I told Karen, "his friends are weird."

I was taking her to a BBQ in Prospect Park in Brooklyn being held by Email Boy and all of his friends. And as the subway ride out there became more and more interminable, I questioned whether the trek was even worth it. His friends haven't always gone out of their way to be friendly and the girls have never even spoke to me.

Luckily, Karen is my lucky charm.

She had the boys eating of her hand faster than you can say I'll-Have-Some-Ketchup-With-That-Hamburger and before not too long we were playing Frisbee with some of them (badly), then found ourselves being picked first for kickball teams.

Between our dazzling displays of athletic prowess, Karen and I lounged on a blanket under the perfect blue sky, safe-guarding the wiffle ball equipment and marveling at how unexpected the day had turned out. While the Girls of the Lifelong Friends group still were not exactly welcoming, we found the Girlfriends of The Men to be equally as eager to make friends, and I conceded that maybe they all weren't so bad after all.

Information which Karen promptly relayed to Email Boy, who couldn't have been more delighted at my acquiesence.

Have I mentioned lately how much I love him?

___________________________________________________________

Although wildly different, Saturday was equally as delightful as my Sunday in Prospect Park.

Around 1 in the afternoon, I met up with Spatch in Madison Square Park, for some Shake Shack burgers and some lounging in the afternoon sun. Then we walked down to the West Village where we cooled our feet in the fountain at Washington Square Park before getting pedicures, then heading back to Washington Square Park where Spatch napped while I read Harry Potter, then proceeded to doze off myself.

After waking up we headed to The Dove, one of my favorite cozy little places in the West Village with wallpaper that allows me to pretend I am in a bordello. Spatch got a martini while I tried a new wine that I ended up hating. Wonderful friend that she is, Spatch traded me drinks while we devoured our cheese plate - cashel blue, mango stilton, emmenthal and fontal cheese with toasted bread, dried apricots, figs, almonds and olives. One of my favorite things about Spatch is that our taste in food is practically identical. Making food decisions with her is frighteningly easy.

At this point, we were individually ready to head home. She to pack, me to read some more.

My evening at home wasn't as relaxing as I anticipated when I walked through the front and watched as the door fell off it's hinges.

Luckily, my super has a super-sized crush on me and fixed our door for us quite promptly. And I only had to flash him a little.

Hizzzz-ot.

Today's Title from: Comedown by Bush

Labels: Email Boy, Spatch

Email Boy: What about this shirt?
Me: Uhhhmmmm. I don't have a strong opinion. It is pink.
EB: WHAT THE %*#@! It's pink?!?!?! I wore this on a date! I thought it was red! I'm such an ass.

Enter Jim, Email Boy's roommate, concerned about all the yelling coming from Email Boy's room.

Me: Jim, tell him what color that shirt is.
Jim: It's pink.
EB: How could you let me leave the house in this? You know I'm color blind! What kind of a roommate are you? You let me wear a pink shirt!

Jim and I cannot respond because we are laughing so hard we are crying.

This is only a slice of the pure hilarity which took place in Email Boy's room all Saturday afternoon as EB and I went through his closet, tossing offensive articles of clothing and where I learn that color blindness isn't EB's only impairment when it comes to fashion. He just doesn't have any. Thank goodness he has me.
___________________________________________________________________

4:50 Sunday morning.

My alarm goes off. Maria moans from the cot set up in my room.

30 minutes later, Karen, Maria and I are on the subway heading for midtown where we are meeting up with our group to go white water rafting.

Here's the highlights of the day:

-A pit stop at WaWa on our way to the river, were we marveled at the abundance of fun/delightful/nutricious foods at prices that bordered on theft.
- Hilariously funny and absolutely fascinating tour guides ("captains")
- In my fear of getting sunburned, lathering myself up with SO MUCH sunscreen, that I didn't even get a tan
- "Serious Bob"- the 19 year old guide who STAUNCHLY refused to tell us when we would be stopping for lunch
- Eating the equivalent of about 50 watermelons between 4 of us for lunch.
- Learning to successfully maneuver ourselves off of enormous rocks that we were constantly getting stuck on
- An absolutely fantastic day spent on the river/in a bus with people that I absolutely adore

__________________________________________________________________

I finished off the weekend with an hour and a half long phone conversation with Oscar just before passing out last night. We're still dating (almost 2 months now) and I'm still hesitant.

Just taking it one day at a time, I guess.

I don't trust him. But that's more because of the sins of those who have gone before than any reason he has given me. He's actually always been relatively dependable and attentive. He's treated me better than anybody else has in a long time. That should count for something.

Today's Title from: Better Together by Jack Johnson

Labels: Email Boy, Oscar

I went to court this morning.

And I got what I wanted. The judge even winked at me. I'm going to think it's because I'm such a smarty-pants and not because I'm cute.

NEXT!

I had the distinct pleasure of attending a Mets game last night with Email Boy. In between ridiculous conversations involving our love lives and our incessant troubles with oral sex, we discussed his goals for the future, made plans to clean out his closet and came up with a To-Do list for his days now that he is starting his own business. Why he values my business advice, I have no idea (especially after I could not successfully divide 400 by 50. It's 8. But I said 80. Because I'm a genius), but I'm more than happy to give it.

We also discussed his new wardrobe choices.

EB: What does this outfit say to you?

Me: That you were a techno junkie in high school and that you spend your evenings working on your robot girlfriend.

EB: I want it to say- What you see is what you get.

Me: Is part of what they're getting an introduction to your robot girlfriend?

After such a stimulating conversation, I was surprised to get a call from him today, requesting my okay for an outfit he was wearing to a business meeting. I'm beginning to think that him not being employed in a 9-5 job anymore is going to seriously affect my work productivity....

Today's Title from: Closer to Fine by Indigo Girls

Labels: Email Boy

Ugh.

Current life-situations are such that I find it almost impossible to be light-hearted. Every minute of my life is shadowed by my overwhelming fear of Wednesday morning and all the legal mumbo-jumbo I have to wade through in the interim.

In order to keep the Apartment Management Company tyranny at bay as much as possible, I filled my weekend to the absolute gills.

Friday night I met my fabulous friend, Maria, at the Metropolitan Museum of Art to see the new Greek and Roman galleries, which I have been very anxious to see. Afterwards we grabbed dinner and talked non-stop throughout. I'm sort of anti-sappy these days, but I have to say that more I get to know her, the more I absolutely adore her.

After leaving Maria, I hit Astoria, Queens to slumber-party it up with my longest New York Friend, K, whom I haven't seen nearly enough of in the previous months. We stayed up late talking, laughing and watching ridiculous TV. We slept in late the next morning, gorged ourselves on various-fruit-pancakes with a plethora of condiments (chocolate syrup, whipped cream, maple syrup, lingonberry sauce, etc, etc), then proceeded to continue watching lots of ridiculous TV.

Exactly what I needed.

I finally dragged my sorry as home, to get ready for a house party in Williamsburg (that's Brooklyn for you non-New Yorkers) thrown by my darling Email Boy and friends. Since I only knew Email Boy and my roommate who I had dragged along with me, in my boredom, I drank myself into an alcohol coma. Not really. But I was wishing I was in a coma when I was puking my guts out once I got home.

Ugh.

The next morning dawned beautiful. I STRUGGLED to get out of bed, as I was officially the Queen of Hangover Land. But I had a brunch to be at and people to not disappoint. Thank the heavens for Aleve and Pepto Bismol.

Brunch with Spatch and friends was fun. Perusing a multitude of sex shops in the West Village- even more fun. After separating from her friends, Spatch and I made our way back up to her apartment, then onto Central Tourist Avenue, otherwise known as 34th street for some shoe shopping. Once we had exhausted ourselves in the shops, we headed down to Madison Square Park for one of my MOST favorite New York City activities- The Shake Shack. I have previously put my foot squarely in the Burger Joint camp, and although Shake Shack burgers may not be the best, they are still DELICIOUS. And getting to lounge on the soft grass of the park while we ate them, was heaven.

Still feeling pretty nauseous, I eventually called it a night and headed home.

Total amount of down-time for the weekend, was approximately 5 hours.

People to Thank For Keeping Me Sane While Every Second Is a Fight Not to Cry:
1. Spatch. E-Cards and Encouragement and a perfect understanding of when I absolutely cannot talk about it anymore.
2. Email Boy. A perfectly timed call just to say hi today, when a serious breakdown was looming. And he doesn't even know about The Issue. Plus, he's taking me to a Mets game tomorrow. God, I love him.

Today's Title from: Badd Business by Phantom Planet

Labels: Email Boy, K, Maria, Spatch

I'm not 100% sure that I even remember what it feels like to be well-rested. After the week I've had, there's nothing I want to do more this weekend than sleep. Lots and lots of sleep.

Tuesday night I went to a Yankee game with Spatch and 2 other friends. We sat in the bleachers and shouted taunts to the players and people in the box seats with the rest of the rowdy fans. At $5 a ticket, we couldn't have asked for a better night. After the game, Spatch crashed at my place, as I live 10 minutes from Yankee stadium and she lives an hour and a half. We had all sorts of girly plans for the evening, that should have included baking, but a text message threw a wrench into my sanity and I fear Spatch might have all sorts of new ideas about my mental health. I think I might be able to sweet-talk her into brunch again though.

Wednesday night, I had Date #2, with the man that I met last Friday. Oscar. I think I'm ready to talk about him. We met on Friday. We talked on the phone that night for 3 hours. Communication continued all through the weekend and Sunday night he invited me to a get-together at his place where he introduced me to some friends and treated me like a queen. He never asked for more than I was willing to give and showered me with compliments all night. Communication never faltered. Calls and texts abounded. Wednesday night, I met up with him and some friends, then he took me out to dinner and we went and had some drinks, then we went back to his place and watched Scarface (really, I fell asleep while he watched Scarface) and for the second time in a week, he drove me home at 4 am, because I asked him to.

And let me tell you something. This man has SKILLS. Amazing skills. Like- imagine the best lover you've ever had- he could teach that person some lessons.

He wants to see me again tonight (total 3 times in one week, can you say- whipped?) and I'll hedge a little with complaints that I'm tired and that I'd really like to give the bite marks on my neck some time to fade, but chances are high that I'll probably cave.

Last night was a birthday dinner for Email Boy. I was at a company event in Chelsea, so he came and picked me up there, then we headed down to the West Village to have dinner at my favorite restaurant, where the food is outrageously delicious and the live jazz is even better. Dessert was a Chipwich for Email Boy and a Haagen Daaz bar for me, then we headed to another one of my favorite places- a lounge filled to the gills with pool tables, ping pong tables, Scrabble, chess, shuffleboard, a bar and a live jazz band. We put our name down for ping pong, got ourselves some beer and then settled in on one of the couches to enjoy the music. The wait for ping pong got longer than we could take, so we then just wandered around the West Village, discovering new places and making fun of each other. As we climbed back into the car to go home, we called my sister (they've met), Email Boy is considering going on our Family Camping Trip this summer and wanted to know if he can stay in my sister's trailer, as sleeping in a tent is a little too rough for a boy from Staten Island, who I'm not sure has ever even seen a tent in real life. After my sister assured him that he could bunk with her 4 year old son, we headed for Harlem to get me home before I passed out from sheer exhaustion. On the drive home, I, once again, marveled at the ease of our relationship. After 3 years, its still fun. And never boring. And it only gets better.

And I wondered if our relationship will be like the movies, where we'll have this amazing friendship for years and years, and we won't realize how much we really love each other until one of us gets engaged and all the chips have to be laid on the table in a big dramatic scene complete with tears and throwing things and inevitably, the most romantic kiss anyone has ever seen.

Or we will just stay good friends, eventually just drifting apart as life takes us in opposite directions, eventually becoming nothing more than fond memories of those crazy days when we were single and living in Manhattan.

Today's Title from: It Don't Have to Change by John Legend

Labels: Email Boy, Oscar, Spatch

I've started approximately 5 blog posts today because I can't decide what I want to write about. So maybe, I'll just do a brief synopsis of all the shit in my brain.

1. Friday night. Literally one of the most perfect nights of my life. Email Boy and I met at Shea Stadium around 6:30. We loaded up with hot dogs, burgers, fries, beer and peanuts. And laughed our asses off as the Mets lost big time to Atlanta- we weren't laughing at the Mets, we love the Mets, we were laughing at each other. After the game (or really, after we left the game in the 7th inning because we were losing badly and it was FREEZING cold), we went to a movie. Then around 2 am, he drove me home and I made fun of his techno music the entire ride. Because it is super lame. It's essentially the same song over and over again, plus or minus some drums. Seriously, the lamest music ever. Can I please find a version of Email Boy who is sexually attracted to me and marry him? I think that would be ideal.

2. It's BOILING hot here today. That's right- 85 degrees. Friday night it was 42, today it's 85. And it reminds me that I'm not quite yet ready for summer weather yet. I would like to have a spring first. Since winter just ended last week for us, could I please have at least a few weeks of jacket weather before I have to start worrying about the profuse sweating on my way to the subway? Muchas gracias.

3. Dr's appointment this morning in my continuing Tonsil Saga. I got another round of antibiotics for my second bout in as many weeks. One more bout and he's sending me to a throat doctor. HOT.

4. It's been a full month of absolutely no contact with Scott at all. It's been harder than I would like to admit. I have completely removed all traces of him from my life. Comments and emails on Myspace, all deleted. All text messages deleted. By all rights, he should also be gone from my head, yes? I am frustrated at his continued lingering presence. I am frustrated that I have to talk myself out of calling him and resolving things. I want to genuinely hate him.

Today's Title from: You Oughta Know by Alanis Morissette

Labels: Email Boy, Scott, tonsils

Saturday night, January 6th.

I am standing at the bar talking to Email Boy, and his friend, George. Email Boy says something that makes me laugh, and I throw my arms around his neck and turn to George and say, "I love Email Boy!"

I feel his arms slip around my waist and squeeze me tight, "And I love Chloe," he says.

How did we get here? I wonder. Two years ago, I would have gladly handed this man my virginity. I fantasized about it approximately 200 times a day. I obsessed over every communication. I counted the minutes until he responded to my emails. And a text from him sent me over the moon with happiness.

Somewhere along the way he has become someone that I absolutely cannot live without. Now, if he doesn't respond to my emails I call him and berate him for neglecting me. Now he texts me regularly at 7 am, and I want to kill him for it, especially when I am in another time zone and he's testing me to see if I turned off my phone. We tell each other everything. And I mean EVERYTHING. I asked him once if he tells anyone else the details he so willingly shares with me, and the answer is no.

He once was telling me about a girl he met, he describes her as having the most amazing personality and then says that hanging out with her is like hanging out with me.

I could call him and cry on his shoulder. I don't. But I could.

2 years ago, I probably would have been pissed to learn that our current relationship would be the outcome of my obsessive love for this man.

But I couldn't be happier about how things have turned out. I don't believe for one second that there is any sex that is better than knowing that he is there when/if I need him.

Today's Title from: Amazing by Aerosmith

Labels: Email Boy

AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I've got a whole lot of pent up anger and frustration right now and I'm sorry, but y'all are going to have to hear about it.

Marc- The Love of My Fucking Life Marc- is dating someone. That's right- the man that I have been patiently waiting for to grow the fuck up already and realize that I am the woman of his dreams, is dating someone.

Which means that the problem was NEVER that Marc wasn't ready, the problem was the I JUST WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH.

GOD-DAMN MOTHERFUCKING SON OF A BITCH.

Then, on Saturday night, as we arrived home, drunk off our asses, Abby starts talking to me about Email Boy, and all the truths that she's never told me before come out. She tells me that she would give anything for her boyfriend to look at her the way Email Boy looks at me when I walk into the room; that she's never seen 2 people more perfect for each other and that she's never had, with anyone what him and I have.

These things might be true. But why don't people get it?!?!? He's NEVER going to date me!!!! He only dates women who weigh 130 pounds. I will never, in my whole life, weigh 130 pounds. I will wholeheartedly acknowledge that him and I have someone special, something that you don't find every day. But, for the love of all that is holy, PLEASE do not allow me to have hope for our dating future! It's not going to happen.

Also, what's with people asking me why I don't have a boyfriend? Don't they realize that if I knew the answer to that, I could probably do something about it? Besides, who's going to admit that the reason for their lack of companionship is because they are a total and complete freak show with no redeeming qualities whatsoever. I DON'T KNOW why I don't have a boyfriend! It may be because I don't like to let people get close to me and tend to use nasty sarcasm as a defense mechanism. It may be because I'm hideously unattractive. It may be that men may not find my penchant for brutal honesty endearing. Maybe I'm too forward. Maybe I'm not forward enough. Maybe it's because I like sex too damn much and men think that I'm means I'm a dirty slut.

Whatever it is, I can't quite put my fucking finger on it, so stop fucking asking already.

Just to add to my present I-Feel-Like-the-Worlds-Biggest-Loser mood, my mom told me about the annual family camping trip scheduled for next summer last night and suggested how great it would be if I brought a boyfriend with me.

That's just fucking awesome.

Labels: Email Boy, Marc

In about 45 minutes, I will attend my first ever Pilates class. It's not part of my required work-out routine, but I figure as long as I'm trying new things (i.e. eating a protein peanut butter bar), I might as well give it a whirl. I'm planning to incorporate pilates and yoga classes into my lunch breaks; instead of going to Duane Reade for tampons, Hershey Nuggets with Toffee and Almonds and nail polish, then making a stop at the deli on the way back for anything with those spicy cajun fries that I love so dearly. I'm hoping these new classes will help me manage my stress and just maybe keep me focused enough to continue on with this meal plan that is already threatening my sanity. I don't do hungry very well. And I sense a LOT of hungry in the next 3 months.

As my last hoo-rah, I went out with L (one of my bestest friends) and Email Boy last night. The laughter and the mojitos flowed like that huge river in Brazil that I am presently blanking on the name of. The most hilarious conversation was about Dirty Talking that had me blushing to the roots of my hair. Email Boy was freakishly comfortable with the discussion. I think I may have underestimated him.

It's going to be a crazy weekend. L is in town for a few more days, my crazy-ass cousin comes into town tonight, Marc's cousin, who wants my help in starting a business in an area that I happen to have a lot of expertise, is coming into town and wants to have a business meeting, and Dave wants to go out at some point.

At least I won't have time to think about how hungry I am!!!!

Labels: Email Boy

Yesterday morning, when I sat down on the subway (which I swear is being run by pack of monkeys- it took 20 minutes to go 3 stops this morning, which is irritating), the little girl sitting next to me, immediately snuggled up into my shoulder and fell asleep. And since I am a relatively nice person, I let her stay there until her sister came and got her to get off at 59th street. For the 10 minutes that her head rested so trustingly on me, I rethought my abject horror at the possibility of bearing children. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

Last night I went to a comedy fest/charity gig with some co-workers and then because I had been drinking heavily for several hours, was misled into thinking that answering the phone when D called, was a good idea. And then I proceeded to agree to go out with him on Saturday night. We'll see how that turns out.

Tuesday night was potentially one of the most perfect nights of my life. Email Boy and I had dinner together at IHOP in Harlem. And I thought the waitress was going to kill us because we stayed so long, talking and laughing. He told me about a girl he had gone on a date with, and the total lack of chemistry. His favorite drink is a cosmo, and I asked him if he ordered this on dates. He told me no, he kept things a little more manly on dates. "Can't show them the real me too soon," he said.

What are we doing? I wondered. Isn't the point of dating to be with someone who you don't have to put up any fronts with? Isn't it supposed to be about being the most true version of yourself? Why would you be with someone if you can't show them the real you? And I why am I deliberately not dating the one person that I can be that with? And vice versa? We are fools.

After dinner, he dropped me off and I went upstairs and did some ironing while watching the Yankee's beat the Rangers. The perfect end to the perfect evening.

Labels: Email Boy

Email Boy. It's a conversation I've been having a LOT lately, and people are confused.

Make no mistake about it- I love him. Very, very much. This has grown exponentially in the last few months of obscene amounts of communication. He has become one of my best friends. He gets me- he gets my humor, my jokes, my sarcasm... the things that make me tick. He doesn't get offended at the abuse that I heap on him, and I never have to fret over not hearing from him. He may not be as smart as me (which he openly acknowledges), but that doesn't bother me at all. He understands the importance of family, and commitment and being genuine and sincere. I never, ever have to worry that he will hurt me. I know that he won't. In short- he is my perfect man. The love of my life.

People seem to think that I have closed the door on dating him. This is not true. I would date him in a heartbeat. Hell, I would probably even marry him. It's him who is not interested in dating me. I know him. I know men. I know society. Guys like him don't date girls like me. He dates skinny, beautiful women with perfectly coordinated scarf belts, handbags and toenails. I will acknowledge that he cares for me on some level, he does not, however, want to bang me on a regular basis. This I know.

I have to accept things for how they are, or this friendship won't work. If I continue to secretly hope that he'll one day realize that he loves big asses, it won't be a real friendship. And I want him in my life, on any terms that I can get. So, friendship has to be enough for me. I refuse to waste time pining for what I can't have.

Labels: Email Boy

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

You know what's weird? I don't really think about Marc that much anymore. Maybe the whole drama-rama from a few weeks ago gave me the closure that I had been needing? Or maybe I'm just crazy-fickle!

I tell you who I do think about a lot though- Email Boy. The amount of communication between us is astonishing. We texted all day on Saturday, until around 1 am. He left me comments on my myspace page. He wore the T-shirt that I gave him to the Mets game on Saturday. He emailed me several times today. The whole situation is starting to freak me out. Is he gunning for the role of best friend? Who does he want to be in my life?

Easter was interesting. I was in New Jersey, learning that every family has it share of secrets and they all like to tell me all of them! I was also feeding my shoe addiction. I think I'm going to need a 12 step program for it soon. I've got my 4 inch heels on today. Just putting them on makes me feel about 10 time sexier. Such an interesting phenomenon, heels.

So, I've been contemplating internet dating. Anyone have any thoughts on this? Good idea, bad idea? It feels like an act of desperation, but maybe a good way to weed out the undesirables?

Labels: Email Boy

Wow. What an exhausting weekend. Quite frankly, just sitting here writing a blog post makes me feel unproductive, I feel like I should be walking around Manhattan trying to cram as much as possible into a very short amount of time.

My sister was here. And we had a fantastic time together. She met almost everyone that is important to me and even some that aren't so important (Mr. Wrong). I took her to all my favorite restaurants, my favorite haunts, and even let her shop in the gigantic bead store even though unless running for my life and looking for a place to hideout, I wouldn't have ever set foot in there. It's fun to be with someone who understands me completely and was just as mad as I was to discover that our father just purchased a Porshe boxster for Wife #3. There goes our inheritance!!!!

She saw the tattoo. I even told her that I've been drinking, and she was totally cool with all of it.

The best part of the weekend was last night. Email Boy came over. He wanted to meet my sister. He hung out for a couple of hours and we just laughed and laughed and laughed and took a ton of pictures. My sister thought he was super hot and charming. My roommate wanted to know why we're not married as she's never seen more compatible personalities.

After he left, he text messaged me the whole way home. He's so adorable. Can I love him? Even though I'm certain to get my heartbroken?

Labels: Email Boy

3 days of houseguest down, 4 more to go.

Saturday night was Abby's going away party. I spent most of the evening talking to Email Boy and his friend. We actually ignored the friend enough, that he went and talked to some other people and it was just me and Email Boy, wrapped up in our own world. We talked about everything, sex, dating, text messaging and how funny he thinks I am. He made multiple mentions over the course of the evening regarding the fact that I am the funniest girl he knows. He asked me about why I only have sex with black men and I was explaining the different factors involved. Then he spent 20 minutes trying to convince me to give a white guy a try. Why do white guys always do this? Are they threatened by the idea of losing all their women to black men? And was he volunteering or just referring to white men in general? And why did he frequently talk about how much he likes making out?

This man makes NO sense.

Yesterday at The Store, I rang up Derek Jeter's sister. I'm getting closer..... It's only a matter of time before I am face to face with him and he falls madly in love with me. I hope he's funny. Otherwise I may have to nix this whole plan.

Labels: Email Boy

I started to write a post about Email Boy and how confused he makes me, which after the 10-20 text messages today is mildly understandable, but I'm boring the shit out of myself with this business and I'm sure everyone around me is tired of hearing about it If he really liked me, he would do something about it, am I right, or am I right? Since he is not making any sly let's-get-naked-remarks or offering to go on any outings that require him to spend money on me, I'm on We're-Just-Friends assumption and leaving it at that.

I also started to write about the tears that have been seeping out all day long for the people in my life going through something outrageously horrific and the sanctity of life and how important it is to not let it get away from us, but this isn't really the right forum for the seriousness of the issues that I stared down today.

But really I don't want to write at all, which is weird for me, cause I always want to write. I just want to get lost in my bag of Cool Ranch Doritos and call everyone in my family and tell them how much I love them.

Labels: Email Boy

So, I'm on that devil's tool of a website- www.myspace.com. My roommate created my account and even entered in all the information for me, and I would occasionally (maybe once a month)log in and approve friend requests- how they found me, I'll never know.

Anyway- Email Boy is mildly obsessed with it and is on, approximately 24/7. How do I know this? Because he added me as a friend yesterday and sent me a couple of messages. I got a comment on my profile from him at 5 am this morning and another email from him at 7 am. Who is on myspace at 5 am? Crazy people, that's who!

Interesting thing to note- another man-friend of mine, James, left a comment on my page, something along the lines of 'hey sexy, I haven't seen you in forever, where've you been?' Whatever, not a big deal.

Email from Email Boy: Who's James? he's kinda hunky.....

What is that all about?

Labels: Email Boy