The Virginity Monologues

There are some universal truths that I like to live my life by.

1. There can never be enough sugar in my coffee/tea. I am a complete sugar junkie and I cannot deny it.
2. As told to me by a friend as a quote by Maya Angelou- When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.

This second one has been a hard-hitting truth recently. Hands down, my biggest flaw is my steadfast belief in the goodness of everyone. I give everyone the benefit of the doubt, and consequently too many chances.

And proceed to get stood up, again. And again.

I didn’t write any more about The Trainer, for a few different reasons. Mainly, that I made such a big stink about him, that I couldn’t very well admit to seeing him again. I felt shameful. Also, I think that writing every detail about these ridiculous relationships leads me to be even more excessively analytical than I am naturally (I know, is that even possible?) and I’m trying to be more of a Just-Let-Things-Happen Girl.

Luckily, part of growing up is learning from your mistakes. And instead of letting myself remain in a relationship with someone for 6-8 months (Oscar?) despite the constant presence of red flags, I took the reins last night after the 3rd (yes 3rd! I’m an IDIOT!) incidence of complete disappearance by The Trainer, I left this message:

Hi Trainer, it’s Chloe. I don’t really understand what game you’re playing here, but I don’t want to play it anymore. Thank you very much for making me dinner last night, it was delicious, but I absolutely cannot continue to date someone who so consistently lets me down.

I’m not heartbroken, as luckily I kept my emotions completely in check, despite his excessive effusiveness of emotion (You’re so beautiful! I don’t want to lose you! I’m falling for you!). Although I am sad to lose those unbelievable tatted up arms. Mmmmmm.

Today's Title from: If You Only Knew by Jurassic 5

Labels: Ted

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a man who claims to not play games will inevitably, play games.

I debated long and hard about whether or not to call Ted the Trainer. I am inherently leery of personal trainers as they generally tend to be players (no offense intended to any personal trainers out there, this is just something that I have found to be true here in NYC, but there are exceptions to every rule). So, I called on Wednesday, a few days after our initial encounter. He was pleased to hear from me and claimed to have been “waiting for my call”.

I told him I’d like to take him up on his offer of training, but warned him that I was suffering from an ankle injury and wouldn’t be able to work out for about a week or so. He offered to meet for lunch the next day so we could discuss things and he could take a look at my ankle.

The next day, he came and met me at my office and we discussed my ankle. He gave me tips on how to help it heal and offered to buy me bandages and massage it for me. I believe his words were, “I’ll take care of you.”

He asked me out. For that night. Then for the next day at lunch. And didn’t stop until he found a time when I wasn’t previously engaged. Saturday night was agreed upon and he said he would call around 2:00 and told me to keep the night open for him.

He also told me I had beautiful lips and beautiful features. He was intense about me in a way that I haven’t seen in a while, and I will admit that it turned my head.

Friday I received a text from him, asking about the ankle and letting me know he was thinking about me.

I haven’t heard a word from him since.

Which I actually predicted would happen, but everyone else was convinced it would be otherwise. To this, I say: Tsk, Tsk. Surely all y’all should have realized that I am the biggest douchebag magnet on the planet.

Yesterday I was at lunch with Nicole and one of her relatively attractive friends, Martin. When I made a moderately dirty joke, he turned to me and said, “You’re my kind of girl.”

I replied by saying, “Eh. They all say that. Chances are you’re going to be a complete douchebag, so don’t waste my time.”

And the train has officially pulled into Bitter Central. Welcome, friends.

Today's Title from: When Your Mind's Made Up by The Frames

Labels: Ted

I get a bagel for breakfast almost everyday. Yeah, its probably a large part of the reason why I have a fat ass, but I’m a carb addict and I admit it. Besides, I love my fat ass.

Anyhoo- the guys at the bagel counter try to guess, everyday, what I’m going to order. And they are usually wrong. Some days it’s a sesame bagel with veggie cream cheese, sometimes is a plain bagel with walnut and raisin cream cheese, my favorite is a cinnamon raisin bagel with butter, but I also really enjoy an onion bagel toasted with butter. I don’t like to eat the same thing everyday, and I get bored very easily. Today, I got yelled at for never being able to make up my mind.

I told him it was my god given right as a woman.
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So, I have previously mentioned that sometimes I am ‘on’ right? It’s a strange phenomenon that I still haven’t figured out yet. Lately, I seem to be permanently ‘on’. I think it is directly related to the fact that for the first time in my life, I would genuinely rather slit my wrists than date.

Remember the tall, adorably awkward white boy that I met at a party last weekend? I’ve never, in my life, been so grateful that someone didn’t call. The thought of actually going on a date with him caused me literal physical pain.

So yesterday, I was leaving the gym. It was warm and humid yesterday, so I was an absolute sweaty mess. Just as I was walking out the front doors of the gym, a trainer rounded the corner and was coming towards me, I registered that he was cute. He smiled at me and said, “hi!”

In my: I’m-Not-Dating-Besides-You’re-a-Trainer-And-Required-To-Be-Nice-To-Everyone mode, I simply smiled and said a weak hi and continued my journey out the door. The Trainer FOLLOWED me out the door and was all, “Excuse me!”

I stopped and turned around. Wary.

Trainer: Wow. How did I miss you? (he sticks out his hand) Hi, I’m Ted.
Me: Hi, I’m Chloe.

Small talk ensues.

Ted the Trainer: So, what do I have to do to train you?
Me (cheekily): Do I look like I need a trainer? (I totally do! I’ve mentioned the fat ass?) What are you suggesting?
Ted the Trainer: No, no. I just thought you were cute and wanted to train you.
Me: Ha. You say that to all the girls.
Ted the Trainer: Actually, I don’t. I’m 37 years old. I don’t play games. And when I see something I like I go after it.
Me: Well, honestly, I can’t afford a trainer right now.
Ted the Trainer: That’s okay, I’ll train you for free. What’s your schedule?
Me: Honestly, I would feel badly, getting trained for free.
Ted the Trainer: Honestly, I think you’re cute and I’d like to spend more time with you.

He gives me his number and begs me to call.

I am still sort of reeling from the experience and trying to decide if he's complete bullshit or not.

Today's Title from: What You Wish For by Guster

Labels: Ted