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What’s app with that?

7 Nov

Oh, 3D.  It’s been almost 10 years since we met, and 9 years (ish) since we last knocked boots.  I haven’t seen him since I was still in my 30’s (which feels like a hundred years ago).  I moved out of state, out of the country, then back home.  He moved away to be closer to his family.  I have grown into who I am meant to be.*  He has a new career and looks after horses or something like that.  I don’t know.

Anyway, it’s clear that I left quite an impression on him.  Vangelina Jolie rocked his world. How do I know?  Because after all these years he keeps reaching out.  Emails, text messages, and most recently, What’s App.  Oh, he’s special. Most of the time I don’t bother responding.  Sometimes in a moment of weakness I engage and then regret it a few minutes later.  Kind of like when I decided to sleep with him on the sly and then ended up feeling like absolute shit [you can read about that here].  Okay, maybe not quite that bad.

It’s been about a year since the last time I responded to his message.  Instead, I save what he sends to me so I can share the messages with my friends and we can giggle about his horse teeth and how much he loved turkey subs.

Please note the string of random messages.  Like the random request to see if I’d like to “communicate”.  By “communicate” pretty sure he’s asking if I want him to touch my cervix with his peen.  No.  On both counts.  Oh, or maybe you like the most recent dream he had about me?

Some of my friends have asked me why I don’t block him and wish him good riddance.  Well, fine readers, if I did, then I’d miss out on the gems that he sends and the opportunity to use his messages as conversation starters when I’m out drinking with my girlfriends.  And maybe, just maybe a little bit, the slightest bit, maybe not so slight, it feels good to still be wanted.  After years of being single, it’s nice to know that there’s someone out there who still thinks of me.  It’s not someone I want to be with, but at least I know that I mean something to someone in “that” way.

 

*HAHA!  JK. I’m still an asshole and hate being an adult.  LOLS (and you have to say “lols” not “el oh el”)

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I have the perfect guy for you!

6 Nov

We singletons have heard that phrase a lot. We know that what it really means is: “you’re single, he’s single, and I’m sick of hearing about how single you both are so can’t you start dating so I can hear about how miserable you are about being in a relationship?”

It’s amazing how many people believe that they are certified match makers.  True match makers have a unique gift – they know each person well enough to identify who would and would not make a good partner.  They look beyond relationship status and sexual orientation. It’s about their core values, beliefs, interests, etc. What you want for your life, what you want in a partner.

And then there are the self professed match makers.  The ones who just happen to know  2 single people and decide to slap them both together.  Add an awkward happy hour which is the ruse to have you both meet one another.  The happy hour where every single person at the bar knows it’s a set up and you and the other person feel like your every move is being watched.  Probably because that’s what’s happening.  In fact, it could be less awkward if the 2 of you were on stage and you set up seats around you so everyone could watch while they nibbled on some bar snacks. VOILA!! Instant couple!

Last week one of my staff members mentioned that her boyfriend’s friend is single and that we’d both make the best couple!  We’re both single, we own our own homes, and we each have a pet!

Um…is this all at takes to build a relationship on, nowadays? Because maybe my standards have been pretty high.  I mean, maybe you don’t need to have any common interests or be attracted to each other.  And, fuck it, who cares if the other person is 20 years outside the top of your dating range.  I could date your grandpa!!  Don’t ever call me nana though.  I want a fancy name like Gigi.  None of that shit that makes me sound like I’m a real grandmother.  Because I’m too god damned young to be a grandmother.

Anyway, after telling me about what an amazing guy this is.  She goes on to tell me how he’s great with animals, and he’s traveled all over the US on the back of his Harley, and how he used to drive a hot air balloon.  (Wait.  Is that’s what you call it?  Driving a hot air balloon?  What do you call that?)  She then proceeds to mention there’s one thing I should know before we meet.  He’s 3 months sober and can’t be around any alcohol at all.  None.

So, yeah. That happened.

Maybe it’s me but I think it’s kind of not really smart to try to set up a recovering alcoholic with someone who takes a lot of pride in keeping her wine fridge stocked.  Am I right?

Besides, I’m coming to terms with being in a long term relationship with my sweatpants and remote control. Guess for now my perfect guy is going to continue to be Chris Hemsworth.

Light the Spark

26 May

Light it up, people.  Light.  It. Up!!

What the fuck does that even mean?  I don’t know.  Who cares??  Because you know why?  You know why??  Because my DREAMY secret boyfriend with the bedroom green eyes came to visit me at my desk today.

I mean, yeah, whatever, he may have actually been stopping by to see someone else and then just popped over to say hello, but whatever!!  AND he confessed to stalking me on Facebook.  That happened.  He just mentioned a picture that I posted in October of 2014.  Um, hello, we’ve only been Facebook friends for like a month.  You know what this means, right?  It means he wants in my knickers!!

And you know what else??  He is single!!  And employed!!  And have I mentioned how dreamy his green eyes are??

So what if he’s a little bit younger than I am.  In the grand scheme of things 11 years isn’t that big of a difference.  I mean, sure, he was 10 years old when I graduated from college.  But, you know, whatever.  He has a penis, I have somewhere for him to put it.  It’s like a match made in heaven.

And who cares if like technically it would be sexual harassment if I asked him out since I’m considered “senior” and he’s very (very) “junior”.  We don’t need to tell anyone about it, right?  RIGHT!!

The writing is on the wall, people.  We all know exactly what’s going to happen next – I’m going to pursue him LIKE MAD (but not really, more like I’ll just kind of happen to cross paths with him as often as possible), and then he’ll start dating someone and I’ll end up alone on my couch with a pint of ice cream and my fat pants.

40 Days and 40 Nights

12 Feb

That time of year is upon us: the time when drunk girls show their boobs for a handful of plastic beads, dudes get so drunk they pass out and poop their pants, and people bake cakes with little babies in them.  Happy Mardi Gras!!  As amazing as Mardi Gras and Fat Tuesday are, it makes me sad that tomorrow marks the day when my cousin gives up Facebook for 40 days.

Like many other Catholics she’ll give up something she enjoys doing.  Not so much for Farmville and Bejeweled, she’s too cool for that shit, but because it’s how she keeps connected with all her loved ones.  So while her friends and family stage protests and beg her to say, like she does every year she’ll log out of Facebook and do her Catholic duty.

I have friends who give up wine.  Those who give up chocolate.  I even have one who gave up make-up for 40 days – which was a tragedy for all of us that had to be around her.  For years I’ve thought of doing it too, not because I’m Catholic.  On the contrary, I’m a total heathen, my skin practically bubbles when I walk into a church.  When I see priests they often cross themselves, and I can hear them whisper, “the power of christ compels you.”  Yeah, not a Catholic in the least bit, but I’ve had a little Catholic in me (if you catch my drift).  Actually, I’ve had several, but not at the same time – I’m not that much of a heathen.

Anyway, I’ve thought of giving something up just to prove that I can.  So it’s happening, fine people of the blogosphere.  I’m giving up boys.  “Haha” you might think, “not much of a sacrifice since you’re not getting any.”  But it’s more than that.  No pining away for silly boys.  No flirting with the latest cutie at work.  And I’m not going to bat my eyelashes when my super hot and dreamy boss winks those baby blues at me.  No cleavagey shirts.  No dirty text messages.  No online dating.  No corporate pilot.  No ex-boyfriends.  No nothing.

It shouldn’t be THAT hard right?  It’s only 40 days.  I can totally fucking do this.

It’s on.

Protected: The Same Old Story

11 Feb

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Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures

22 May

Ever notice how when something goes shitty in life then one of two things happens: either something even more shitty happens, or the universe send you a lifeline.  I got a mix of the two today.  Shitty, because of who it’s from.  Lifeline because it’s a reminder of how fucking amazing I am.

Get this.  No, really, GET THIS!!  My ass should be a natural treasure, because you know why?  When dudes tap it they get totally hypnotized and can’t let go and four fucking years later they still email and text you and try to get you to sleep with them.  You know who I’m talking about?  Yeah, you know who I’m talking about.  3 fucking D.

It’s been two months since the last exchange of text messages, and out of the blue he sends me a message.  I’ll admit, I’m in a vulnerable place so I go ahead and respond.  Check out the messages below (he’s in the white bubbles, and I’m the green).

20120522-210414.jpg

Can you fucking believe that shit??

Add it to my Shit List

21 May

You know what’s awesome?

When, after years, of not really liking anyone you finally meet someone and you click. Okay, so maybe you’ve known each other for a little while, and you didn’t consider them, but then something changes. And he pursues you, but you’re kind of stupid to notice until he makes some overt comment, so you’re like, “Whoa. What a minute. Does he like me?” And then you’re like, “Yeah, he does like me.” But you think you don’t like him so you don’t do anything only to realize that you kind of do like him.

That’s kind of awesome.

And then he invites you to go on a trip with him because he won some award at work, but you say no because you committed yourself to a baby shower for a really close friend of yours. But really part of the reason you said no is because you don’t want him to see your fat thighs in a swimsuit and you don’t want all your friends to know what’s going on until you figure out. And you would totally bail on the baby shower but your friend would be devastated so instead of going off to a luxury vacation in the tropics you eat crab cakes and cupcakes and stuff two dozen balloons in the back of your Toyota Corolla and almost kill yourself.

But leading up to his trip stuff kind of starts happening and it almost feels like this could be the beginning of something instead of the beginning of nothing. Like after you go to brunch with some friends and suddenly he kicks the text messages into high gear. And you’re like, “Is this happening? This totally might happen.” And suddenly he makes comments about how you’re beautiful and you’re interesting. And then a few weekends later you’re at a baseball game together and he is ALL OVER you and he is super handsy and even your friend makes a comment about what’s up with you and you’re like, “NOTHING!” even though you totally hope there is something there. And he brings up the trip again and what a bummer it is that you can’t go and how after you said no he asked two other girls to go but he was flying solo and you’re like, “thank God,” in your own mind so you tell him you will totally go next year and he’s like, “Deal!”

Then you get home and the text messages start up again and he starts telling you about how he bought this outfit for the next brunch because he knows you’d like it, and he talks about his upcoming birthday and how he totally wants to get on you and you think, “Wait. Does he just want to sleep with me?” But you think, “No, because if that was the case he wouldn’t tell you you’re beautiful or drop $150+ on a pair of fucking seersucker pants,” that he knows you’d like. So you’re like almost over the moon and kind of swooning a little bit and you start wondering about your first date and when you’re gonna make out and you think, “Maybe I’ll offer to take him out on his birthday in July” but you don’t say anything because you don’t want him to know you like him. And it’s totally going well in your mind.

But then it all falls to shit.

So the time comes for him to leave on his trip and there was this kind of strange exchange via text message like two days before the trip and he just stops all together. So you just chalk it up to him getting ready to go while you’re secretly analyzing every single fucking word you wrote in your last message. Then he’s off while you stay here to get ready to go to that damn shower and you think he’s off tanning at the beach all by his lonesome because that’s what he told you like a week and a half before he left.

AND THEN you find out that he asked someone else to go on the trip and he neglected to tell you, which kind of explains why he stopped texting you like two days before he left on his trip when you were wondering what was up. But you’re pissed because he didn’t happen to mention it in the week leading up to his departure when he was busy telling you how much fun you would have had if you were together on the trip and did you think that maybe that fun could happen back here. And you’re also pissed because the way you found out is because you happen to check out his facebook page and see a comment from some random girl who said she couldn’t wait for the trip. And you just happen to click on her page and oh, guess what? It’s open so you can stalk her. And you totally do because you’re dying to know what the fuck is up and why he hadn’t mentioned anything to you about her. But at the same time it’s not like he owed anything to you because it’s not like you were dating and you wouldn’t have told him if you were with someone else. Except for you’re kidding yourself because you totally would have said something to see his reaction but he didn’t say anything so you’re so confused and you don’t understand what the hell happened.

So the days go by and you don’t say anything to anyone because you feel like a total loser for falling into this whole mess. And at the same time you wondered if you misjudged her going on the trip and maybe they’re just friends. And you’re totally hoping he reaches out to you when he gets back from his trip. So the day comes and goes and there’s no message from him, so you’re totally bummed out and you kind of want to cry but you think he’s too big of a jerk to deserve any of your tears but you kind of can’t help yourself because you were so excited for something to happen and now that something is totally nothing. So maybe you shed a couple of tears and then you eat a bag of chips to make yourself feel better.

Then you wake up the next morning and you think, “Fuck him!” and you give yourself a pep talk. Which works for a few hours, but then, when you’re home alone you start going down that path again and you’re wondering what’s up with that whore faced whore who went with him. So you just go ahead and stalk her facebook page. And on that page, on that horrible awful facebook page that is like lemon juice to the papercuts in your ego you see a picture. A picture from a trip YOU should have gone on. Her cover picture on her facebook page is of the two of them snuggling up on one another.

That is totally not awesome.

And then you blog about it.

True fucking story.