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It might be you

22 Mar

8 days ago: Monsieur le Baguette was overseas last week visiting his friends.  On his first day there he FaceTimed me and introduced me to his friends.  They used the nickname he had given me to greet me.  Adorable.

6 days ago: He text messaged me to see if I could talk.  He called me on the phone from overseas to ask me out on a date for today.  He’s currently on a business trip and wanted to know if he could fly in to Baltimore instead of to DC.  I’d pick him up, we could get dinner together, and he’d stay at a hotel.  Of course I said yes.  Adorable.  Please note this is also the same night I got naked with a 33 year old stranger.  Still, we can agree that Monsieur le Baguette’s actions were absolutely swoon worthy.  Le fucking sigh, y’all.

5 days ago: His flight was delayed out of the Europe on Saturday and he was stuck on the tarmac for 2 hours.  We text messaged the whole time.  He said if he got stuck, he’d take me on a FaceTime walk around the city so I could see how pretty it was.  Adorable.

3 days ago: I had a big old project launch.  He sent me a little video of him singing because he thought it would be funny and keep me from being anxious. He called me after putting his girls to bed.  We were on the phones for three hours.  Adorable.

2 days ago: He flew out to the Midwest for his business trip.  He text messaged me from the plane, then the airport lounge and wrote, “next time you come with me.”  He called me that night from his hotel room.  Adorable.

1 day ago: Yesterday he called the hotel he’s booked for tonight and told them we were celebrating our 5 year wedding anniversary.  A cheese plate and bottle of champagne will be waiting for us in the hotel room. I mean, fucking SWOON!  How about that for romance on a second date??  Fucking A+ adorable.

Our next date is already lined up for the first weekend in April.  A weekend in Washington, DC.  Hotel room is booked for 2 nights.  He’s already planned an entire day, and made dinner reservations.

This is good, right?  This isn’t casual, right?  We can all swoon together, can’t we?  RIGHT?

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I could really go for some fried chicken

15 Feb

Have you ever thought to yourself, “I could really go for some fried chicken,” and then you talk yourself out of it because it’s not good for you. Instead you focus on your salads, and some other high quality delicious foods – maybe a fancy meal. Yet no matter what you eat all you want is the damned fried chicken? Fried chicken is not good for you, it is not good for your body or your heart. You’ll regret eating the fried chicken because you know the next day you’ll feel like shit and you’ll ask yourself, “self, why did I do that?”

#4 is my fried chicken.

The Tutor and I went out last night. Date #2. We met up at some random bar because he lives in East Jebip (aka Bumble Fuck, or Woop Woop). I turned down the initial suggestion of Ruby Tuesday’s and we ended up at this place. I hadn’t eaten all day and was so excited for carb filled food. I could have gone for some fried chicken. You can imagine my dismay when we walked in and were told the kitchen was closed until 9:30.

Great. Fine. Booze for dinner. Whatever, I’ve done it before. No fried chicken. I get it.

We had fun. Had some drinks. He pulled out 3 pieces of chocolate from his pocket and told me it was my Valentine’s Day gift – wanted to make sure I had something without going over the top. We talked about family. He’s a funny guy. Unsophisticated. Easy. Laughs at all my jokes. Seems respectful, mentally stable, emotionally available. Simple. Essentially the complete opposite of #4. He is a nice guy. Super nice. Like you could probably marry him and raise a family nice. This is the type of guy who I should be going out with. Not some douche bag who has told me flat out a relationship is not going to happen. But being the dumb ass that I am, I like the challenge #4 presents, and The Tutor isn’t going to present one. Of course while I was with The Tutor 1/2 the time my mind was on whether/not #4 had messaged me.

#4 is my current Daniel Cleaver. An incredibly stupid idea.

Anyway, end of the date approached and The Tutor walked me to my car. We were standing by it and I thought, “here we go!” He leaned in and BAM! kiss on the mouth. Closed mouth kiss, a peck. Okay, fine. That goes on for a minute or so. He was being a gentleman. Nice. Then he kissed me again. Another peck. And I thought, “fuck. Is this all that’s happening right now? I haven’t eaten all day long, I’m PMSing, I’ve had three gin and tonics, and this is not going to cut it.”

So I asked him flat out, “are you going to kiss me for real?” Who am I? What has happened to me? Who says that??

The kiss was nice. Respectful. Gentlemanly. It was not a toe curling, steam rising, ovaries beating, chest flushing, swooning kiss on the porch.

I want some fried chicken.

Should I?

28 May

Okay, so on a scale of 1 to creepy how weird would it be if I sent my secret boyfriend with the bedroom green eyes, and the chiseled jaw, and strong hands, and quiet demeanor this video?

Yes?

No?

Ugh.  I hate myself.

Mending a Broken Heart

27 May

I’m typing this with Flamin’ Hot Cheeto-dusted finger tips.  Life is hard.  Relationships are HARD.  Especially when they’re imaginary relationships with secret boyfriends who are busy dating other people because they don’t realize that they’re in a relationship with you.  Ugh, I freaking swear.  How hard is it to get a little attention from your secret boyfriend??

So as I wrote earlier he’s off on a date – probably with the woman of his dreams – while I’m busy on the couch dissecting EVERY SINGLE interaction we’ve ever had to see if I can determine what it all means??

Last night I may or may not have sent him a message on Facebook.  And then I may or may not have checked Facebook every 15 minutes for like ALL NIGHT waiting for his response.  And did he?  No, he did not.  And did he read it?  Yes, he did, approximately 20 minutes after I sent it.  WTF?  I mean, I know hard to get and all, but seriously?  This is bad, right?  This means we’re breaking up, right?

Listen, living life as a 15 year old angsty insecure teenager in the body of a 34* year old woman is totally getting old.  I think life was just easier when I didn’t have a crush on someone who is young enough to be my son (assuming I got pregnant when I was 11), and was busy catching up on all the “Game of Thrones” seasons (Hodor).  But, no!  I just had to start talking to this hunky dreamboat with green eyes and now I’m torturing myself.

This morning I went running to a friend of mine to tell him EVERYTHING.  He was super ecstatic and informed that this dreamy dreamboat with the green eyes was totally interested in getting in my knickers.  He was, however, playing the LONG game.  Apparently, the reason that he didn’t respond to my Facebook message is that he doesn’t want to seem to eager (bullshit).  And also, apparently, the ball is in his court.

Fuck his ball.

And fuck his court.

But also, I totally hope he stops by tomorrow and tells me how horrible his date was and that he totally wants me and then he touches my boob.  That could happen, right?  Or, you know what’s probably going to happen, because this is what happened the last time I really liked someone?  He’s totally going to hit it off with her, then in 2 years they’ll be engaged, and in 3 they’ll be married, and she’ll be pregnant.

And I’ll still be sitting on this couch eating Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and wondering why I’m still single.

*Or 41, whatever.

Monica Lewinsky isn’t the only one who can rock a blue dress

18 Aug

Six months.  Six blissful months in Australia and now I have returned to ‘Merica.  Yes, I saw kangaroos, and koalas.  No, I did not meet Crocodile Dundee, or make shrimp on the barbie.  Yes, I met someone.  No, it won’t last forever.  Yes, I made out with him outside my hotel.  No, I did not touch his penis.  Yes, I had secret boyfriends.  No, I did not ruin any marriages.

So back to work and back to boring old sex-less life in the USA.

[insert sad trombone music here]

Really the only good thing about being back is I’m reunited with one of my secret boyfriends.  So secret he doesn’t know about it.  And happily married.  Of course he is.  Because every dude I meet is either married, a douche bag, married and a douche bag, or single for some reason other than being a douche bag.  Anyway, so Bow Tie was sitting in my cubicle today and had just finished explaining to me why he doesn’t wear a wedding ring (it’s not because he cheats), when he blurted out, “Where’s Kate Spade?”

Not a question you hear everyday from a straight dude.

“This, Kate Spade?” I asked him while showing him my bag.  “No, the blue dress,” he responded.

Ah, yes.  The blue dress.  The blue dress I purchased last October before heading off to Europe for a month.  The blue Kate Spade dress that I got an excellent deal on.  The blue dress that sucks everything in and makes me look hot.  The one he commented on every time he saw me in it.

“That’s a winter dress.  It’s wool.  I can’t wear it in summer time.”  People, that’s a lie.  It’s not so much that I can’t wear it in summer.  It’s that I can’t wear if I want to zip the thing because I gained (no joke) 20 pounds in Australia and went up 2 dress sizes since I bought it.

Fuck.

FUCK!

I have two months to lose 20 pounds so I can fit back into that damned blue fucking dress.

Bye bye french fries, and chips, and cupcakes, and wine every night, and fried foods, and chocolates, and lollies, and pasta dishes, and 4 lattes a day, and Jesus no wonder I’m so fat.

I Love You A Latte

10 Jan

I had a date today with my boss with the dreamy blue eyes.  Have I mentioned his dreamy blue eyes and how incredibly hot he looks in his pin striped suit?  And how his shirt clings to him just right?

Le swoon (I’m swooning in French – that’s how crazy hot he is).

So, our date…he’s spent the last few days winking at me and flexing his muscles and then winking some more.  Today was no exception, there was plenty of winking.

And

And

AND!

He bought me coffee today.  It’s love.  I totally know it.

Then when we sat down in the romantic corner of the cafeteria we talked all about my professional development.

This totally means something.  I’m going to start getting the paperwork together to change my last name.

Is it wrong…

3 Jan

…to want to show your nipples to your boss? Because if its wrong, I don’t want to be right.

Hot damn he is FINE!!