Thursday, June 30, 2011

Dating story #56, Death by Dating.

Okay. So you probably hate me.
I haven't posted in 10 days. 
I'm sorry!
But posting takes time, and I haven't had any of that.  So hopefully, you're still sticking around, holding out the slightest of hopes that I'll give you a little somethin' somethin' to read.
Well, pretties, you're in luck! Hunker down, though. This is gonna be a long one. I had to pee TWICE while writing it! Then again, I have a bladder the size of a cashew.

Let's back that ass up to last week, shall we?

I'd like to introduce you to The JEWeler.  
Another "gem" (haha) from, he found me a few weeks ago and we began emailing.  Turns out, he's tall-ish, seemingly attractive, is AA, likes tennis and is a first gen American Russian Jew.  Interesting enough, plus his emails were very funny so we had a nice banter going on. He even CALLED on the PHONE. Yes, apparently phones can actually do this thing where you dial and can SPEAK to someone! Who knew.
We had a nice, easy conversation so he asked me out for last Wednesday night. Of course, first I had to stop at MIM's apt for a Mary Kay makeup party. Yes, I'm being serious.  Very interesting, I must say!  And her friend, Erika, who is the rep was abFab and we had a blast. Then, I hauled my cookies back downtown to meet The JEWeler at my favorite local bar, Mother's Ruin. A good friend just opened it a half block away from my apt. I've taken to calling it "Lindsey's Ruin." Or maybe it should be "Liver's Ruin." FML. 
Anyway, The JEWeler looked about the same, if not slightly cuter than his pics, except for an unfortunate amount of hair gel shellacking that hair in place. What did his hair ever do to deserve that?  It took a lot of restraint, especially a few cocktails in, to not reach over and just mess it up.
The conversation was easy, fun, good and I could tell he was into me.  I wasn't totally sure how I felt but would have been open to a goodnight kiss to help me with that one.  Until, of course, it came up in a story of his that he doesn't kiss on the first date. He says he thinks "it shows restraint."  I asked if it could also show disinterest and/or gayness.  He laughed. 
So at the end of our looong night of drinks, he walked me to my door and I took his hand and have him a nice curtsey.  HA! Take that, restraint man.
Many texts were exchanged the next day and a second date was set up for Sunday when I returned from Kismet, Fire Island, aka the bestest beach evaaa.

The Beach:

Some towns in Fire Island are full of fist-pumping a-holes looking to hook up. My town, however, is not like that. There's only 2 bar/restos, and we only go to one of them [The INN] and shun the other 'cause it's magically douchetastic. But I love how chill and laid-back it is out there, and I almost NEVER put makeup on, which really tells you something.  The beach, historically, has never been a hookup spot for me. Then again, I realized last summer I was in a house with mostly couples and Champ, before I broke up with him and MIM inherited most of his weekends. Let's just say that this summer is proving itself DRASTICALLY different. There's a lot of singles, we all enjoy our drinking, plus BFWB is a partial share in the house and therefore the instigator of most shenanigans. 
This past weekend we made our way to the INN at the usual time to discover they've started up having bands play on Saturday night.  Bored with conversation outside and also with being leered at by salty old semi-toothless men, I decided to go inside and watch the music.  I just sat down on a chair nearby and enjoyed watching the old fart cover band rock out, when a very good-looking, strapping tall guy offered me his hand to dance with him. Um...OK! He had bright blue eyes and dark hair. He also had, unfortunately, madras shorts on. But I decided I could overlook them for the greater guy package which was good-looking AND likes to dance. The best part? He has a total (Irish) girl's name and makes no apologies for it. So, me n' Girl's Name cut a mean rug around the dance floor for quite awhile. Oooh yeah, it was on. Plus his friends (all married/in relationships/short) were super fun and Girl's Name loaned me out to dance a few dances with them.  One, in particular who was roughly as strong as an ox, decided to pick me up and spin me around.  Now, I'm 5'9. I am very not accustomed to this happening and it often freaks me out. But, I could tell this ox was not going to drop me.  I could also tell that my denim miniskirt was inching up by the second. By the time he put me down, the entire crowd at The INN was definitely privvy to details of my Hanky Panky's and my ass-cheeks.  Y'welcome, The INN!
After we had enough dancefloorness, we headed back to my house to jam with BFWB since Girl's Name also plays some geetar. After about an hour of that it was getting late and I was getting the feeling that this boy could play all night. Hello, when was it going to be make-out time?  So I devised an excellent plan that involved me saying "I'm going to the beach now!"  
Simplistic? Yes. Effective? Very.
So Girl's Name and I went to snuggle up on the beach and get our smooch on.  Only, upon seeing a truck's headlights, we feared we'd be kicked off the beach so we relocated near the dunes. That's where the sand fleas HAD THEIR WAY WITH US.  Seriously. Those f'kers made a meal out of us and came back for more!
Time to leave the beach pronto, but...where to do?  When you're doing a summer share, you don't exactly have your own room and even the living room is generally occupied.  This left only one option: The outdoor shower.
Classy AND refreshing, right?
We had a nice, showery makeout fest until the hot water ran out and the sun began to rise.  That was pretty much the end of it, but he got my digits since we were both going to be around on the beach sunday.
I can definitely say I've never stayed out until that hour in Kismet. Usually, I go to sleep so early I get and run at 7am because I'm awake and bored!  
Welcome to the summer of ZERO SLEEP.
True to his word, GN hit me up around 1pm and we met up for awhile. Thankfully, he looked even hotter, sans madras shorts and plus a visor. Why do I have a thing for guys with visors?? It must be some strange Texas thing, but I find it soo HOT! Weird.
I figured I'd sleep off my exhaustion on the beach, but BFWB had other plans in store, mostly made up of NONSTOP. CHATTERING. FOR. HOURS.
Ironically, GN ended up on the same ferry as us back to the train station. Since he had met/partied with all of us the night before, you would've thought he'd be happy to see us and talkative. However, he was basically the opposite. Definitely not "rude" per se, but very obviously in no mood to really chat with us (or me) on the short trip back.  Which is always exactly what you hope for the day after you've shower made-out with someone! 
You have a girl's name. 

I headed back to the city for date #2 with The JEWeler, wondering how I would keep my eyes open.
At least, I told myself, it's a sunday night and an earlyish date, so I should be in bed by 11 or so. 
This Ruski can friggin' DRINK. And somewhere along the way, I got a second wind.  Plus, I was waiting for a kiss to seal his fate.  Unluckily for me, it took him till about 2am and many taunts of "I'm going to have to go to sleep soon" before he finally made his move. A SLOWASS move, at that. Seriously, even his approach towards my face seemed to be in slo-mo. WTF?
I will say the actual kiss itself was quite good. Like, really good. But I'm still weirded by the lead-up to it.  I need a guy to be much more assertive and deliberate about his actions. 
Not sure if I'll see The JEWeler again, but we're both going away for the 4th of July, so we'll have to see what goes down when everyone is back.

In other news...

Our dear friend (and one of your faves!), 6'4 has been hitting me up on gChat. For those not in the know [shame on you!] it's Gmail's version of instant messaging. Because he and I had exchanged a lot of emails back and forth, gmail automatically puts people into your buddy chat list. I didn't realize this and, because his name is about 1 letter different than BFWB's, I wrote him thinking I was writing BFWB, whom I chat with all day, every day. Once I realized I had done it, I was horrified! But, lo and behold, he wrote back. I had to explain the message, which was about rehearsing and therefore made no sense to him, and the whole name mix-up. He asked me how I was and we chatted a bit. And then I signed off like a champ, hopefully leaving him wanting more.
It worked.
He's been hitting me up ALL week.  I never initiate the conversation. And a few days this week we have chatted back and forth almost the entire day about a myriad of topics. Toward the end, it got pretty flirty, but not dirty. I do like that about him. There's a very fine line and he knows exactly where that is. Plus he's smart, articulate, well-read and incredibly ambitious. Not to mention HOT. HOT. HOOOTTT. 
You'll be proud to know I kind of let him have it, in a funny way of course, about us only going on that one date. Kind of like "what's the point of this?"  He seems to think, with conviction, that we'll be seeing each other again for sure.  So I replied, "Well, that is as long as you ask your girlfriend/wife/sister wives for a hall pass."
Yes, I agree with all of you readers/commenters that something strange is happening here.  He's too young to be married, I have seen his FB page and there's just really no way that's possible.  
Of course, a girlfriend IS possible.  He did tell me he moved to a 300sqft studio in Long Island City, so, assuming that's true, he's definitely not co-habitating with anyone.  Who knows. I've decided to not think about it that much because it's mostly just frustrating.  
He gets me kinda hot and bothered and I don't appreciate that!

Especially how he did it before I got to go to a small, intimate 4 acoustic song performance at Vanessa Carlton's Soho loft. Yeah, I did. No bigz.
(It was AMAZING!)
I have no idea how I managed to get on the list for this event, but it was incredibly cool to be about 8ft away from her playing and singing on her baby grand piano.  The best part?  I was introduced to her and a photographer took a group shot. But, knowing I'd never see that photo, I asked if I could get a pic with her with my own camera.  Awkward pause.
Followed by...
Awkward pause.
Followed by..."Ok."
Here's how happy she was to pose for that pic:

When I finally looked at the pic later on in the evening, I almost wet myself!
Aren't celebs supposed to, you know, pretend to be excited about their fans? Especially when they're in their HOUSE?
I also just discovered on Wikipedia that she came out as a bisexual a few years ago. Now I'm super offended that she 
a) didn't want to pose with me 
b) didn't hit on me.

Well chickadees, that's it for now. I'm off to put the ASS into ASSpen tomorrow. I'm meeting my family there, so I don't expect many dating situations to occur (unless my mom forces me into them, which is ENTIRELY possible), but I will have my trusty computer with me, just in case.

As uneventful as it may be, at least I can get some sleep and take a break from the sauce. 
I swear, my dating life just might be the death of me.

Love, Hugs, fireworks and Independence to all of you!

Monday, June 20, 2011

Dating story #55, a slew of douche-canoes.

I have a new philosophy.

The fact that I've now dated or had some involvement with such a staggering number of douchy dudes is a GOOD thing.  
Good, you ask?
Good, I say!
My theory is that I'm just weeding through them, slowing picking them off.  Like reaching your hand into the ice cold beer trough, weeding through the Nattie Light and PBR just to find the classy bottle of Stella that's settled at the bottom.  Sure, your hand gets wet and cold, uncomfortable and somewhat numb.  But eventually, it's worth it, right?


This leads me to a follow-up on Punz, the Food Dude.

I know many of you enjoyed that last post and felt excited about Punz's potential. 
Shame. On. You.
For some reason, after Punz left my apt that night, post me cooking him a rather EPIC (not to mention quite 'spency) meal, I just had a strange feeling that would be it.  I can't explain why, but turns out, my feelings are somewhat accurate!
We had a small (very small) amount of text banter the next morning. On Wednesday, I found a dog bone under my kitchen table that he had left.  Thinking I was being quite hilarious, I texted him this pic and wrote:
ME: "What do you think I could get for this on Craigslist?"
HIM: "A big fat dick."

ummm....ex'ume, WHAT?
You'll be happy to know I did not respond.  But if I had, it would've said

After that lovely piece of literature, I headed out to meet my friend Mel who is newly single and loving life, tearin' it up like I did last summer. We met at the Standard (again) and I must say that despite the overall hatred most people have for the place, the sheer VOLUME of men makes it a constant success there. I walked in to find tiny Mel holding court with literally FIVE dudes, all above 6 ft tall. It was quite a sight.  Although upon further investigation, most of them seemed to have rocks for brains and less sense of humor than my pinky toe.  I was engaged in a game of eye-ping pong with a muscle-y armed guy who seemed so hot I really couldn't figure out if he was actually looking at ME.
Luckily, he was.
And even better? He was a Brit.
Hello, 50% extra hotness built right in!
Muscle Brit and I hit it off right away and the girls loved him too.  He dragged his dudsville (and possibly mute?) friend with us to another bar, and even gave Mel a piggy-back ride when her heels hurt her.  
Chivalry. Figures it would be a Brit who doesn't live here, right?
It also figures he'd be hot, smart and a wicked good kisser. 
Thanks, universe!
But we had a blast. And maybe I'll see him on my biz trip to London. In November.  Think he'll remember me? Survey says...DOUBTFUL.

Anyway, throughout the whole evening I was engaged in an email/txt situation with 6'4. 'member him?  
Yeah, just when I almost forget about him, he's BACK. Sorta. Kinda.
I just can't figure out what the hell he wants, but my new theory? ENTERTAINMENT.
He hasn't expressed that he want's to see me, per se, but I think he enjoys the amusing banter.  Whatever. At this point I'm more interested to see what the conclusion is.  I've definitely lost any "potential hope" I once had for him.
Here's the textchange:
HIM: I was just randomly thinking of you. Would you like me to tweet you a picture of my junk?
ME: Well, it would be apropos with your future senator aspirations.  
And, randomly?
HIM:  Yes, it's not okay to randomly think of you? Should it be a deliberate and well thought-out occurrence? 
ME:  I'll allow both.  When should I expect my junk tweet? I want to prep myself.
[a day later]
HIM: My Junk
Here's the picture. Please keep between us.  This is solicitous shit.

I must say, I laughed. A lot. It's funny.

So I responded:

ME: Solicitious? That's downright scandalous. Perhaps I should text you a picture of my breast to level the playing field?
HIM: I think it's only fair at this point. Or ass.

So, I sent him both.

He liked it.
We'll see what happens in this game I like to call "Retarded Love."

Is this what it's come down to?
Someone. Anyone.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Dating story #54, The Food Dude.

Hello, gorgeouses!  
Aren't you proud of me for blogging again? Yes, I deserve a medal indeed. 

Let's pick up where we left off, shall we?  
After Thursday's late night shenanigans, I was quite the pooped party girl. I just had a smidge of work to do, some afternoon voice auditions and then had plans to meet up with MIM at the audition and treat ourselves (and my hangover) with Shake Shack. For the second time that week. Yep.
Meanwhile, a guy who'd I'd been attempting to meet for a drink texted asking if we were still on for drinks that night. Oops. Forgot about that one. But I said yes, not wanting to break plans and also knowing I'd have no other time since I was beach bound.
After shakin' the shack, MIM and I were in stage 4 food coma. It wasn't pretty. And, neither was I. Nor did I have any desire to a) meet a new guy b) have a personality c) drink. But, I took a disco nap and rallied. And, I'm glad I did.
We met up in west soho and he was already at the bar which I love so I can size them up without them seeing. It's a beautiful thing really.

He was cute. Cute-almost-hot-cute.  AMAZINGLY thick head of hair. And I liked his style, which is always kind of crucial to me.  Of course I can work with most things, but when a guy has great style it's a total turn-on.  We'll call this one Punz.
So we began our drinks date. He was a bit subdued and he finally admitted he'd had a rager the night before too! At least the playing field was even. And, after a few drinks, it was even better.  We relaxed and had good conversation.  I couldn't tell if he was really into me or not, but we were having a good enough time. 
Then, we started talking about our mutual love for food. And it was ON.  The more we talked about food, the more hungry he got.  So he suggested we move the date to a nearby restaurant. I was into it, so off we went.  We cozy'd up next to each other in a booth and had a great time deliberating over the menu and what dishes we'd share. He was already kissing me before our first course even came! I like this move.  And, I liked him.  So far, what a pretty good match date!
He lives almost upstairs from the resto and asked if he could grab his dog for a walk and take him to a nearby dive that allows dogs.  I love dogs, so I was all about it.  Plus, I had seen pics and was dying to see this dog.  What. A. Cutie!
Hunter. A-dorbs!
Man, a dog is such a way to my heart. Well, 'cept for when they eat my FAVORITE SIGERSON MORRISON HEELS, like SoCal's dog did. [awesome]
Luckily, I have a great shoe guy. 
Anyway, it was an awesome night and, as far as first meeting/dates go, one of the best.  He asked when he could see me again and I volunteered Monday when I'm back from the beach.  I think he may have mentioned we should cook together, but I honestly had so much wine at dinner, I was lucky I could still walk. Sure enough, he texted the next day and locked me down for dinner Monday night, AND confirmed time with me Monday am.  I like a guy who, you know, actually does the things he says he's going to.  What a novel concept!
So, I timed it yesterday to get back from the beach, get to the grocery store for my dinner items (already planned out), get home to shower and beautify and begin to prep some dinner stuff so I wasn't leaving it all for when he got there.
He also wrote and asked if he could bring the dog, which I was totally down with.
Meanwhile, my good friend's housekeeper was looking for some extra work last week while my friend was out of town. I've had this woman clean my place a time or two and she's CRAZY good. She literally gets into every crevasse, however she moves things around and that kinda bugs me.  But my friend communicated to her to leave things in their place and I figured it would be great to come home from the weekend to a spotless apt. Also perfect timing for having a date over. Except...NOT.
I walked in to a practically unrecognizeable apartment.
Shit that goes in one room was in another. Things above my microwave were in my bathroom. I started to panic.  And, swear like a sailor. At the top of my lungs.
It literally took me an hour of cleaning [and cursing] to get my apartment back to looking like my apartment, leaving little time to shop and pretty myself up. Afterall, it's only date #2. I have to ensure that it wasn't just a drunken fluke!
I ran to Whole Paycheck to get groceries only to find a shit-show of shoppers since it was now 6p instead of the originally intended 5p.  Second piece of great news? They didn't have the halibut steak I had planned my whole menu around.
I think at that point I stood still in one spot for at least 4 minutes wondering a) why the universe hates me and b) what the hell to make!  I got my act together, figured it out and got outta there, running home like a madwoman with groceries in flip-flops so I could have enough time to shower and shave my legs (ahhhh I hate shaving in a hurry!). I decided I better start drinking wine so I could calm the F down, as I continued to curse this cleaning wench at every turn (where's my shampoo? why is my soap in a cabinet? all my hair tools are unplugged and wrapped up and it's taking AGES to undo them. AHHH).
But, somehow, I made it work.
Punz and doggie showed up with wine as I was concocting in the kitchen and he said "Ooh, I love seeing you in the kitchen. That's hot."  Ok, great. So far, so good.
He began looking at all my bestie pics I have on my fridge, commenting, etc.  Suddenly, I look over and WHAM! Cleaning wench has found a pic of my ex bf Champ and so thoughtfully tacked it up on the fridge with the others!!!!!! AHHHHHH.
Yeah, I know. In hindsight, he could've been anyone. I was just so shocked by it that I snatched it off and threw it in a cabinet.  WHYYY DOES SHE DO THESE THINGS??????
The rest of the night went really well. He loved the dinner and said he'd clean after we relaxed for awhile. Of course, relaxing led to smooching which led to lateness which led to me excusing him from that chore.  I will say, I was worried about having him over to my apt on a second date, since I've been trying [TRYING] to negate my slumber party tendencies.  But this guy had ZERO presumption about sleeping over. In fact, he left on his own accord and I was really impressed by that! Maybe I've actually met a not sludgebucket of a guy? 
After he left, I happily cleaned up my apt and went to get into bed.  I reached down for my phone charger, always next to my bed and found it to be missing. I couldn't remember if I had taken it to the beach but then I realized I hadn't. "Did this dumb b*tch put my f*cking cord away too?" was the thought in my mind?  I opened the top drawer of my nightstand and, of course, there it was. Wrapped up neatly. That makes sense. Who would need to have a phone charger readily accessible to them, right?
Then, a sickening thought crossed my mind.  
That was the TOP drawer. 
Did she dare venture into the BOTTOM drawer? You know. The NAUGHTY NIGHTSTAND drawer?
[C'mon. Don't act shy. We ALL have them.]
I squinted my eyes shut and then tentatively, slowly pulled it open.
It may have well said "CLEANING WENCH WAZ HERE" stamped on it.
overhead view of the naughty nightstand drawer
Allow me to share with you a crude drawing representation of it.
-Battery operated devices perfectly lined up like soldiers.
-"Protective items" arrayed in neat patterns.
It's bad enough that she's seen all my dirty little secrets.
But, did she CLEAN them?
I shudder to think this.

And that, my friends, is all I have for you today.

I'd like to think it's more than enough. 


Friday, June 10, 2011

BeautyFull Friday: Clean as a Cucumber

Happy fah-reaking Friday, my friends!

Awhile back, one of you lovelies commented that you'd like me to talk about my skin care products.  While you can imagine the inside of my medicine cabinet(s) roughly resembles a Duane Reade, I do have a few staples that I've been using for years.  One in particular that's done me very right over the years is this:

I have sensy skin, not to mention sometimes acne-prone and I am always rocking some form of makeup. This stuff is gentle and effective, plus it has natural cucumber and rose, so it smells great.  You can also even pour some on a cotton pad and use it as an eye makeup remover.  Not bad. And, it lasts for awhile and is finally also avail at Sephora.  I'm a fan.  It's been my go-to cleanser for a looong time now.

What's up in MANland, you ask?

Well, early this week was the AICP awards, commonly referred to as "ad prom." It's a gigantic, private affair at the MoMa, which is a pretty awesome location to get to take over.  The even also serves as a "ghosts of advertising past" for most of us, as you see almost everyone you've ever known in the industry. Fun, exhausting, overwhelming, drunk times galore.  And, of course, who do you think I saw there?
My ex bf, Champ, of course!  
At least this was an even I expected, hell, even anticipated seeing him at. And of course I saw him right off the bat, as I was going inside for my first cocktail with some friends to avoid the extreme heat/makeup-meltage.  I literally walked in, saw him and went "Well, guess I'm headed back out doors!  Where it's not at all one schmillion degrees of steam heat."  But it was just too sparse inside at that point to be standing right near him at a bar. I was not in the mood [read not nearly juiced up enough] to deal with such moments of awkyness.  
It just sucks that he won't talk to me or even look at me for that matter.  Oh well. His loss.  And, my gain since every time it just confirms breaking up was the right thing to do.  Here's a pic I have no recollection of taking with my friend, B, who's a total wild-woman.  Commonly referred to as "Big Red" due to her statuesque height and fiery tresses. I've dubbed the look she's giving here "Red Steel."  Classic.

As for dudes, I've pretty much written 6'4 off.  He can continue on his slow boat to China.  I live near enough to Chinatown anyway.  I'm so over these lame, non-proactive morons who claim to like me and then half-Houdini on me.  LATERZ!!
Feeling very over it all, I went to work out after work and then decided I felt antsy and not ready to go home alone and shop for whatever cats my future spinster self may be acquiring.  So, I went to a co-worker's going away party in the Meatpacking District. Sure, it's usually a meatmarket over there and one full of 20-something meats, but whatev.  Expectations managed, I set off over there , in the rain with hardly any makeup on. And, not giving a shit about it! A rare but awesome gift I sometimes give myself. 
Most of the bar was exactly as I expected but over near my friends I spotted a guy, amidst a group of "shirts" (aka I-bankers and the like), who had veered off from his friends, engrossed in the NBA finals game.  I was interested in, not only the game since a Texas team is involved, but also in the guy. He was cute!  
Such an easy way in. Almost too easy.
He turned out to be pretty adorable and we talked/watched the game for almost 2+ hours.  We'll call him Mav. Mav and I were having one hell of a flirtfest, not to mention he couldn't believe a chick "could be that sexy and funny." Oh wee!  He pretty much showered  me in compliments, and in a totally non-douchey way.  I was definitely into this. PLUS, he turned out to be totally AA- 35!!! However Mav is dealing with a recent break-up from a 7 year relationship and was getting blown up by his ex for some reason or another. He was being very transparent about it all and I couldve cared less, but wasn't so into dealing with drama.  His crazy friend, Crazy B, was having side talks with him where I could tell the gist was "Yo dude. Your ex is f'king psycho and this chick is HOT. Make out with her. NOW (I actually heard those words) and stop dealing with psycho."
The three of us ended up bouncing to another bar [my new hotspot, since my friend took over a bar literally 2 seconds from my apt. DANGEROUS].  On the way over there, sandwiched between both boys, Crazy B decided to start nibbling on my shoulder.  I saw RIGHT away where this was going and shut it down with a simple "Um, this is in NO way, shape or form going to be a 3-some situation, mkay?"  FYI, that was never Mav's agenda, but I could sure see it was on the top of Crazy B's crazy list. Shut. That. Down!
Maybe the 3 of us stayed out till 3am.
Ended up drinking back at my apt.
And they both passed out there. In separate areas, I should add.

It was a wild and fun night. Mav is an excellent kisser [finally!] and the whole thing was a serious ego boost/funk-breaker.  I think I needed that.

Now, I need a nap.  And perhaps a seriously greasy cheeseburger.

Happy weekend-ing my frieeeendz!


Monday, June 6, 2011

MANdate: The slow boat to China.

Ah, summer.

Like fresh fruit or flowers, I feel that I am finally "in season."  Too bad my dating life isn't really keeping up so well.
But, you know a day is going to start out well when you're wearing these:
That's right, readers. Yellow Manolos. On sale, to boot!
I ordered these suckers online last year, thinking "how fun would yellow heels be to jazz up a monochromatic ensemble?!" Then, the box came.
These were no yellow shoes.
These were cornea-burning NEON day-glow yellow.
After the initial shock wore off, I fell in love.  And, guess who else loves them? MEN.
You know. Bright colors. Shiny objects. Cause men? They're like fish. Only slimier. [hee hee]
But I'm enjoying a little color in my life, not to mention, on my flesh. And, guess what else I'm enjoying?  Waking up and looking at my face in the mirror every day only to admire these:
Please ignore the extreme close-up of my wrinkles and other face-oddities and focus on my amazing LASH IMPLANTS.
The place is literally like a Korean eyelash sweatshop and honeys, they have a customer for life now!  I can't get enough. No mascara. Long natural looking lashes? um, YES.
Too bad there's been no slumber party action of late in which to truly appreciate how un-ugly I now look in the am. Life-changing.

So, on to our MANdate.  

Last week, since I had not heard from 6'4 in a few days, I decided to do something about it. Yes, this goes against many [MANY] of your suggestions, but really. How often do I ever follow rules or take advice? Right.
Although, after the fact, some of you randomly suggested I do the very thing I did! So, kudos to you suggesters.
I did, indeed, send him my own some-e-card. But, I upped the ante. I created my OWN some-e-card. A little-known option. Highly effective. 
Besides, I'm a writer. If I can't write a funny e-card, then I...well, SUCK.
It worked.
I got a notice that he had read it literally minutes after I had sent, yet, no response for awhile.
Later, he "liked" my FB post from that day {yes, here we go again with the FB BS}. This caused me to get my thong in a complete wedgie, wondering why he'd like my post yet not responded to my uber-creative e-card.
Then, he did.
And, he called it uber-creative. [Weee!]
He made a few funny comments, told me about his move over the weekend and asked me how my week had been thus far.
I wrote back some more wildly hilarious [see: kind of funny] banter and also told him "Be on the lookout for the several hundred matchbooks I’m sending you as a house-warming gift."
This came from a moment we had on our date where I discovered homeboy may be a pyromaniac.
He loved this.
He wrote me back: "In a rare occurrence, the latter portion of your email caused me to literally laugh out loud. It takes a lot for the written word, authored by a "regular" person, to make me laugh. Bravo, [my last name]. Bravo."
Seems like I'm getting closer here, right?
So I wait until the next day, Friday, to write back a pretty funny email response. 
A few hours later, I get a text:
HIM: "I'm in the mood for a second "date" in the very near future." 
a) very near future. what the who what is THAT shit?
b) "date?" Why the frickfrack is that word in quotes?  Is it a synonym for another 4-letter word? AHH.
So, instead of asking him any of these questions, I decided (in a rare moment of clarity) to play it cool.
ME: "Hmm...second "date?" I think I could handle that."
Then, hours passed by.  I figured at this point I would hear from him in the very near future. Like, August.  
So I took off to my beach house.  And, as I was watching the sunset on the ferry, I got a text back.
HIM: "I think you could as well. You handled the first date pretty nicely. You're a lot of fun. Most girls bore me. Not LK. She plays to win."
Cut to me, on the ferry deck, jumping up and down like a 6 year old who's just received her first My Little Pony. Why? I'm not sure. But that text was a nice one to get.
So, I waited till about noon the next day to respond.
ME: "Why, thank you. And to think, that was only my B game. You're pretty fun yourself. And I've definitely seen my fair share of boring..."
HIM: "Boring people bore me. So do ugly people. Enjoying your day?"
ME: "I hear that, we call them BUU. Boring, ugly & uninteresting. Great day, killer weather! You?"

End. Of. Comm.

Now, I know Mr. Ambition works like crazy and is incredibly driven.  But I'm reeeeal confused now.
-Seems interested.
-Thinks I'm funny/not boring.
-Made mention of an [incredibly vague] second date.
What gives?

Wow. Just writing that and then re-reading it made me feel annoyed and dumb.
I need to get off this slow boat to China.
At least if I got on the one to Korea, I'd end up with a beautiful set of lashes...

Wah Waaaah.


Wednesday, June 1, 2011

Dating story #53, Tall, dark, and worth the wait.

Between back to back weekends away plus my effing MacBook air being a diva and refusing to work, I apologize for my horrific lack of bloggage.

But, due to demands, friendly requests and various threats (you KNOW who you are) I'm going against my better judgement (do I even posses that?) and blogging this story. QUICKLY.

Quite awhile ago, in the dregs of winter, I got bored and decided to try out a different kind of dating site called "How About We." I was interested because it seemed to be a more activity driven way to meet someone, rather than a straight up dating site.
So, I posted my first date:
"How about some pool and drink some beer in a dive with a great jukebox?"

This date seemed to catch the eye of many hobbits and/or Dungeons n' Dragons dorks alike.  Awesome.
But there was one noteworthy response.
A seemingly hot guy had checked the "I'm intrigued" button, which means I have to initiate the conversation (should I care to have one).
I looked at his picture. Still hot.
And, his stats? 6'4.  All systems: GO.
So I wrote him back:
ME:  "So, you like beer and pool?"
HIM: "Am I a male with a pulse? Yes, of course I do. And apparently, Texas Cowgirls (ie my screen name)."
He then went on to tell me he actually was only on the site because his company was contemplating doing some type of business with them and they asked him to make a profile and check it out. But, I "caught his eye" and he wanted to see what happened when he clicked "I'm Intrigued." Guess I showed him.
He said that he doesn't go on the site at all and if I wanted to continue the conversation, I should message him on his FB page. 
I followed directions. 
And, got to peek at a few more pics of him. Yes, definitely handsome. And possibly a lot younger than me?? Luckily, I pushed that thought aside and the conversation continued.
For THREE months!  Seriously, I just looked back at our initial comm on FB. March 9th. WOW.
In that time, many long, detailed [and sporadic] emails were exchanged.  In a way, we got to learn about each other.  Of course, several potential "let's meet for a drink/coffee/lunch/beer" comments were made. NONE ever followed through. I began to realize this guy really probably has never done internet dating and therefore was intrigued, but not enough to meet a stranger. Either that or he has a girlfriend. Or 9 kids and french maid, Governator-style.
Strangely, about a month ago he finally "friended" me on FB. Ooh-la-la!
Still, not a lot of communication. Emails here and there. Updating me on how busy he is at work, me telling him the same.  Maybe one more suggested and never followed-through date proposal.
Finally, last week. IT HAPPENED.
He seemed actually serious for the first time. Of course, it was another coffee during the day invite, for which I accused him of being afraid to have a drink with me. But he told me he was in the middle of a difficult apt move and his nights were consumed with packing. So we made a [tentative, of course] plan for thursday afternoon.
Weds night I had dinner plans with bestie LoPro and then supposed to meet another random guy who's been keeping tabs on me who I figured I should just get it over with. I was in the midst of showering/changing post-gym when I got a text from 6'4. Text?  Yes, I had left him my number MONTHS ago during our many FB messages, never to be used or even made mention of. Lo and behold, homeboy dug through emails and found it.
He asked if I wanted to meet him for a drink around 9pm.  I told him I was confused about his "moving" story. His response? He'd been packing since 5p and he figured having a drink with a cowgirl copywriter might be a little more fun. MAYBE.
I instantly cancelled my date with random-dude, knowing I absolutely had to capitalize on this offer, since there was a very good change it may not come again. Shifted outfits (cute>hot) and ran to meet LoPro.
Wolfed my food and then ran to meet up with someone I had been certain was a Unicorn or the Tooth Fairy. This was JUST TOO GOOD. Did he actually exist?
Oh yes, my friends. He did.
Just as good-looking, if not better in person. Completely my type. Instantly attracted to him.
I met him around 9:30p and the conversation was easy. He's an incredibly ambitious, driven guy and that is a serious turn-on for me, especially coming from the relationships I've been in.  In many ways, his tenacity reminded me of my Dad's (ahh!). But not in a bad way.  In fact, this is a guy my dad would flipping LOVE.  But let's not get ahead of ourselves.
After a few hours of talking, eating meatballs (of course) and going to our 3rd bar, we had definitely gotten comfortable with each other. Cut to us, STILL out at a bar. At almost 4am! On a Wednesday! He literally took about 8 hours to finally kiss me. And this was after we had been talking so closely he only had one eye and his face was all blurry. FINALLY!  And, worth the wait. For sure.
We decided we should probably go home and he said he'd walk me. Of course, since he doesn't live in Manhattan [Long Island City--what?], he alluded to needing the facilities before heading out.  I obliged as we'd been drinking for appx EIGHT hours at that point, plus I wanted smoochfest part deux.  Yes, I know, I'm not supposed to even be having guys back to my place due to my lack of self-control, but he did not end up slumber party-ing and texted that he got home safely. At 5:37a. Ouch.
We exchanged a series of funny texts the next day, both of us miserably hungover and dog-tired.  But, even though my nauseous stomach felt like someone was playing the kick-drum inside it, I couldn't help but feel kind of good about this guy.
Granted, I've learned my lesson from Boulder Boy. Never again will I get so revved up about someone. Never. 
Still, something felt like it had potential here.  Although I was a bit bummed by the fact that I had the last text sent around 3p and no response. But, getting my new set of amazing fake lashes installed (pics to come!) and packing for my first weekend at the beach helped distract me.
The next day, I picked up BFWB and we headed out to our beach share in the amazingness that is Kismet, Fire Island. As we traveled out there, I realized I had a few emails. And, holy shitballs, one was a Someecard from 6'4!
And there it was. With a smiley face and his name attached. 
a) he had to get my email from FB = extra effort.
b) searched through cards =extra work
c) picked something hilariously appropriate and SO right up my alley= extra points. YES.

Plus, the opportunity for me to email him back and forth, in attempt for me to persuade him to join me at the beach sunday-monday, post-move. 
No go.
His move got delayed, yadda yadda. Probably for the best, as my therapist has warned me of "over-exposure" too soon. So true. But the emails back and forth were funny.
Plus a funny text back and forth Sunday.
And, THAT'S. IT.
Here we go again. It's Wednesday and I haven't heard from him.  Which once again makes me need to ask the question, when did I become the "one and done" girl?  I just don't get it.
I know, I know. It hasn't been THAT long. He's been moving. That sucks big time. 
If someone likes you, they let you know.
Like sending you a funny e-card.
Now what?

I'd write more, but I'm off to drown my confusion in a bottle of white with some friends. Don't worry, I'll drink water too.


Serenity NOW.

I've had no time.
No life.
And no home computer. (mine effing died on me last week!)

But I DO have a story to tell you. So, i set out to tell you via this miserable apparatus called an iPad.
I struggled through an hour of typing on it when suddenly-poof! Something happened and 90% of the story went Adios!
I have never loathed something more.
New computer: ORDERED.
New blog story: hopefully tomorrow from work.
Hell I'll even stay LATE to do it.
I am NOT about to let something this dumb come between us.
Until then, buenas noshes. (or, notes. Or, noches. DAMN YOU AUTOCORRECT!!!!!)