Sunday, August 29, 2010

The Fear

If you've been following me for a while, you know I am ridiculously terrified of marriage , attempting to date in a city that really doesn't cater to women who enjoy the romantic companionship of straight men, and have lifelong trust and commitment issues thanks to the three & 1/2 years of my life I wasted dating and co-habiting with the World's Biggest Asshole. To be quite honest, as much as I hope to one day find someone who's presence doesn't repulse me and that I can have meaningful conversations and amazing sex with, I am staunchly terrified of having an actual relationship. But between all the fights and breakups and cheating and failed marriages that you see amongst your friends, colleagues and stars of the Silver Screen, is it any wonder that I'm having trouble finding faith in the success and stability of human relationships?

I read an article in a recent issue of Philadelphia Magazine which attributed having kids early on in your marriage as one of the major causes of divorce. Now, I don't want children to begin with, but could they honestly be serious about this?? Almost everyone that I knew and grew up with, their parents either got married because they got pregnant or waited a few years before they had kids. And there really wasn't any difference in the amount of couples who got divorced in my eyes. From the "getting married to make an honest woman out of her" to the "college sweethearts who got married and then had their first kid a few years after getting their Masters degrees" - both of these types of couplings led to divorce. So why would anyone use their children as a scapegoat for their own relationship problems? Clearly there are people out there in all kinds of situations who have married and had children at all stages of life and not divorced. Is this type of behavior somehow becoming more prevalent due to the decade and the state of economy that we're in? Perhaps.

I wrote my Senior thesis in college about the societal constraints that are put on women in order to get married, have kids and be successful - all in one shot; The whole "Superwoman" persona - saving your company's largest accounts by day and still having dinner on the table by 6 and tucking the kids into bed at night. But surely, more men are also playing the "mom" role these days too? Is this perhaps emasculating men who were raised to believe that the husband should be the breadwinner? Maybe it is that men can't swallow their pride in these situations that is creating a rift between husbands and wives. But what about stay-at home mothers who still find themselves on the outs with their supposedly doting 'heads of the household'? Ok, yes, things change dramatically when you incorporate kids into your marriage. It is no longer "You and Me" but "and Baby makes 3"; Maybe sometimes people are having children and aren't completely ready to accept this as a fact of life yet. But again, that in no way dictates that children are causing divorces - it just means that people are having kids before they are emotionally ready, because they think that is what society expects of them. That once you are married and settled into your new home, the next thing to come should be the pitter-patter of tiny feet. (and not of the four-legged variety)

Obviously, there is no dictating how relationships will turn out. There is no road map to life that can be purchased and help you learn the lay of the land. Unexpected things can happen around every turn; cheating, unemployment, death. No one truly gets that Fairy Tale ending. And I guess that's what scares me so much - that there is no way to tell how things will turn out. No one expects to be in a relationship for 10 years that never goes anywhere, or to live with someone who lies, cheats and steals (or even, to be that person who lies, cheats and steals). No one gets married with the anticipation of one day getting divorced. No one expects to have to figure out what they will do with their lives when their partner dies and because, since the State does not recognize their Union, they are not entitled to the benefits their partner has left behind.

And so, as much as I would love to be in a relationship, this fear still haunts me. We all have expectations and hopes for future romantic couplings. We want our mates to be these perfect matches, these puzzle pieces that fit perfectly into our lives. We hope for unending sophisticated conversation and superb sexual compatibility. You hate to think that you will ever get mad at one another, fight with the other, break that person's trust. You do not want to be betrayed by someone that you let into your life, your heart, your soul - that you give all your  love to. And also, you do not want to commit the same atrocities to that other person who becomes your other half. What if I just can't do it? What if I just can't learn how to compromise my own stubborn sensibilities and I drive this person out of my life because I am too thick-headed to learn that a relationship is a two way street? What if I am too clingy or jealous or cumbersome? The thought of failure consumes me.

This is why my pseudo-relationship with Emmett has worked so well so far. We have never lived within close proximity of each other for anything to be considered remotely serious. Every encounter between us has always been light, fun and breezy, almost as if we are just test driving it before we commit to signing the lease. There are no strings or promises to each other - as much as I wish at the end of the day that there were - and maybe in a way, that is also scary as well. Here I am, pining over this man like a pair of expensive pants in a store window that I keep going in to try on, but don't know that I can ever bring myself to purchase. Even though they fit like a glove and make my ass look amazing and would go with everything in my wardrobe, they are always just out of reach. Maybe I will see them again one day on clearance and consider them a little bit longer.

But what happens when I finally buy them and bring them home? Will they have the same allure in my bedroom as they did in the dressing room? Was it all just lights and trickery in those store mirrors, as I try to replicate the same tantalizing appearance in my cheap $10.99 IKEA wall mirror at home? And after trying those pants on with an insurmountable number of tank tops, button downs and cardigans, will they just wind up in the back of my closet with the tags still on, never to be seen again? If this relationship ever really becomes real, will I be as ready and emotionally available as I make myself out to be in my head? Or will I struggle to find the receipt in my bag to take it back to the store?

Such foolish desires. Damn these wild young hearts.

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Bridging the Gap

I'm an only child. Growing up, this meant I spent a lot of time playing board games by myself or reading as opposed to fighting with siblings over the last cookie or our parents' affection. But just because I was an only child, that didn't mean I didn't have sisters.

Kaylie and I met when we were 7 at summer camp, but our friendship didn't really start blooming until the summer we were 13. I was already friends with two other girls, Emily & Ashlee - who were cousins - and Kaylie became the fourth to our group in our pre-teen years. We spent all our camp periods talking about boys and sitting on the blacktop wall, acting too cool to play tennis or box ball or any of the other pre-arranged camp activities. Once we moved on to become counselors, Kaylie and I spent more of our time together, running the same activities together (Arts and Crafts, Cooking and Game Room), making runs to Mcdonalds for lunch on Wednesdays (Ravioli day = YUCK!) and volunteering for the same field trips. (Bronx Zoo!) She'd pick me up in the mornings and we'd go home together after camp, plotting what to do for the night - which usually involved going to the mall, the movies, local neighborhood festivals or to clubs and bars.

During the school year, we would hang out as well. She introduced me to all her friends in the Bronx and all her new friends when she moved to Westchester. We got into all kinds of trouble going to raves and participating in all types of underage drinking and mayhem. When we finally graduated high school, she came to visit me at college in Boston and then, when I moved back home, we were inseparable again. I was always down for whatever and became her sidekick for all kinds of misadventures like late night diner runs, playing open hockey with the Men's league or mani/pedis. Kaylie was like a streetlight and everyone who crossed her path became a moth, gravitating towards her presence. She was beautiful and sassy, modeling one moment and beating up anyone who talked smack the next. Guys wanted to date her and girls hated her guts. She knew what she wanted and she knew how to get it and wouldn't take no for an answer. She always told it like it was and wasn't afraid to let anyone know her opinion. I loved being around her because everyone else wanted to be around her too. She helped me find a confidence in myself that I never knew I had before - channeling my inner Bronx, talking tough and walking pretty.

When I first met my asshole ex  and introduced him to Kaylie, I knew she was going to hate him. He was loud, obnoxious, and almost like a male version of her the way he was never afraid to speak his mind. She was never shy about telling me how she didn't like him. I just wanted them to get along, but of course, that was never going to happen. He didn't like her either because she didn't like him, and so he never wanted me hanging out with her. I'd have to lie to both of them all the time and it was agonizing to be torn between two very important people in my life. Once things started getting bad in our relationship, I tried to hide everything from her. She wasn't the only one: I was alienating myself from other friends and even from my own family as well, putting on a happy face and smiling through the pain. All that confidence I had from hanging out with her had been stolen away by him and I didn't know how to get it back. I knew I couldn't tell her what he was doing to me because frankly, she would have killed him. And I was already afraid of him and didn't know what to do. And so, I did the worst possible thing you could ever possibly do to someone: I stopped talking to her for absolutely no reason. I cancelled plans. I didn't answer texts or phone calls or emails. I distanced myself from her because I didn't want her to see the way my life with him was spiraling out of control. Because of this, I lost a big part of my life. Kaylie was truly like the sister I had never had. She had two brothers and so it was like I was her sister too. I know that I really hurt her and I felt horrible for doing what I did, but I wasn't sure how to make it right. Even after my relationship with that shithead ended, I didn't know how to fix it - the damage was done, the bridge burning behind me.

Recently, thanks to the power of Facebook, Kaylie and I exchanged a few pleasantries via comments. We were both living in PA now so we shared our frustrations over the DMV system here or apartment/house hunting. So much time had passed though and I missed out on big parts of her life in the past 3 & 1/2 years: her engagement, her wedding, her graduation from Nursing school. This past weekend, she invited me and our mutual friend, Gigi to a Luau party at her Husband's firehouse and I was nervous; Would we be able to bridge the gap? Was it going to be tense or awkward? And even though she invited me, would she even talk to me? Should I take her aside and try to talk to her or apologize? I wasn't sure what to do.

At first, it was a little bit nerve wracking - Gigi and I showed up and she hugged Kaylie and everyone else there that she knew from her time living down there with her. And I just kind of stood there like, "oh hi." The three of us sat together, both Kaylie and I kind of turned away from each other - hiding our glances behind big sunglasses and letting Gigi basically lead the conversation. As the night wore on, we started to get more comfortable. I had to use the bathroom and I asked Gigi to come with me, but she wound up talking to someone else and Kaylie was like, "Well, now you know she's never gonna shut up!" and took me inside to go pee. I lightheartedly made a comment about how Gigi had been driving me nuts before she even go there and she joked back saying, "Yeah, she tends to do that." (Which we both are very familiar with in dealing with her when we were growing up.) Finally, the night was ending and we were bringing up old stories and the three of us headed to Kaylie's house, staying up late and talking - just like old times.

In the morning, I got up and went to get some water out of the fridge. Kaylie had some cards and pictures on them: party invites, save the dates, baby announcements, wedding pictures... And then, in a small square frame, there was a picture of her and me. It was taken in my college dorm room one weekend when she had come to visit. I looked around to see if she had any other pictures of her and friends on it, but that was the only one. I smiled and started to tear up a little bit. That's when it really hit me how much of an asshole I had been. I guess I never knew that I meant as much to her and she had meant to me. And I was just happy that she didn't hate me after all.

Gigi, Kaylie and I went to breakfast and when we came back to get my car, the two of us hugged goodbye and she thanked me for coming. I told her I was glad that she invited me. Hanging out with her made living in PA for the day just a little bit more enjoyable. It made it feel like my old life, made it feel like home. Hopefully this means that we will see each other more and hang out more, that I can start feeling like the old me again after all these years, and that someday soon, we'll be able to put this fire out together.

Which is great, because I really missed my sister.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Cleaning out my closet

I really need to get my life together.  Like, seriously. I am treading water with floaties on and not really going anywhere or doing much of anything and it is starting. to. drive. me. nuts. I am so naturally lazy and the biggest procrastinator that I am procrastinating the things that should be important in my life. I banged up my bumper when I moved in back at the end of May. It is still sitting in my driveway, cracked, with my fog light cover in my backseat. I need a haircut and my roots touched up horribly. I wrote down a number to a hair salon around the corner 2 weeks ago and still haven't made an appointment. I discovered I had a small cavity in a tooth about 3 weeks ago. Have I been to the dentist? You already know the answer.

I should be more motivated and enthusiastic, but instead, I'm stagnating. Why? Because I fucking hate it here. And "here" as in the metaphorical here - here at this place in my life. Moving to Philadelphia and getting a new job was supposed to change my life. So why is it, merely a year later, and I am already over it? I just have nothing to motivate myself for. Nothing exciting to do in my life and no one to share it with. Originally, the prospect of moving to Philadelphia excited me. It got me out of my parent's house, out of CT, out of my shit hole former place of employment and got me closer to my Gay BFF, independence and what I hoped would be a more serious relationship with Emmett. (But we all know how that turned out...)

As much as I like my job, it is obviously not what I want to be doing with the rest of my life and maybe that is frustrating me. I am worried that I am going to get stuck in Academia and the State of Pennsylvania forever. I'm determined to move back to NYC next year, but I just find myself getting frustrated. Without experience, I can't get a job I want in the Marketing field. But without finding another job in the Marketing field, I can't get experience. And I can't leave my current job without finding another job with a comparable income so I can continue to live here on my own and not break my lease. It's a vicious cycle...

I am collecting cobwebs on my life here as it is and I just can't let it bring me down. And so, I realized I need to do some major cleaning up of my life, hopefully as a means to try to motivate myself towards my end goal:

I promise that starting tomorrow I will make all appointments needed, dye my hair, finally wash off a summer's worth of filth from my car, clean my apartment, do ALL my laundry (including work clothes that I have been putting off since I hate paying to do laundry and *sniff* this totally smells clean, right?) and sort out the clutter that has slowly collected all around me. I am freeing up the drama from my life; trashing the broken relationships and hopefully going to try and recycle some of the ones that I have neglected in the past. I am going to the gym twice a week now and starting up Graduate classes again in a few weeks too. I will try to be more active at work and put in more of an effort to do things that I probably should be but haven't been taking seriously because I know someone else can/will end up doing them. I will put aside a substantial amount of money from each paycheck to save for my move next year (or as much as I can to have enough to comfortably get away with living on until my next pay check.) I have revamped my resume and am keeping my eyes and ears peeled for a way to get my foot in the door of my future dream job.

And hopefully, when all is said and done, I will look around at the spotless world around me, smile and then throw a bunch of shit around and mess it all up again. (in a totally and completely healthy way, of course.)

Saturday, August 14, 2010

If You Give a Mouse a Cookie

What is it about guys that, once you give them an inch, they take a foot? You show even the slightest, tiniest bit of interest in someone you have absolutely no interest in, or drunkenly hook up with someone, and then - you can't get rid of them. Or you allude to some kind of romantical or sexual thing in a totally platonic joking way, and then you just keep getting pestered about it.

Case in point: There was a guy I used to work with (NOT the guy from this post) and I would always go to him about advice regarding the guy from that post... and other facets of my love and sexual life. It came to a head (pun totally intended) when joking, I said I would blow him for helping me out and listening to all my estrogen-induced rambling bullshit. One night, he picked me up and brought me with him to his office and, after much beating around the bush (lol again pun probably intended), we turned the lights off and I put one of my best skills to the test. There was no kissing, no touching, just straight oral. I was just trying to prove the point that I give great head and get some practice in the meantime. After all was said and done, we'd deduced the situation as being a totally "for research" experiment and there was no kind of chemistry or attraction between us whatsoever. I even gave him another goodbye BJ when I moved out of the area.

But then, he started to get really obnoxious about it. He would constantly bring these situations up, supposedly jokingly: how good I was at it, how he could really use one right now. I even came home one weekend and asked him if he wanted to hang out and he kind of kept pressing the issue of trying to get me to give him another blowjob. Hello? Didn't we already establish that these instances were just a one-off kind of thing? And you weren't giving me anything in return. (And to be honest, I didn't even want him kissing or touching me. Hell, why do you think I turned the lights off? So I could pretend it was someone else and not have to look at him or his creepy face while I was sucking his dick.) So, I let him know - sorry, I'm seeing someone. It's not going to happen. And yet, continued to persist about, talking about it over dinner, in his car, basically nagging me about it. After dinner, we couldn't figure out anything else to do and I was really looking to just go home, but he drove me to his office; He was leaving his position and was hoping to christen the room 'one last time'. And so we sat there for close to a half hour with him hoping I was gonna drop to my knees, and me, sitting on the other end of the couch texting on my Blackberry with a "Ain't never gonna mothafuckin happen" face on. Finally, he took the hint and drove me home.

I just don't get it. Did my signals get crossed somewhere? Does he honestly think I'm just jumping at the chance to shove some cock in my mouth- any cock - and hopefully, his cock? No. It doesn't work like that. There was absolutely no emotional attachment to it for me, just as a lot of times as of late, I've had a lot of sex without attachment. Perhaps men think that women can't separate the emotions involved in the act of intercourse, but to be honest, a lot of us have learned to out of necessity. Now, that's not to say that when you are emotionally committed to someone that your mind is off in Wonderland while you're getting railed. Absolutely not! When you are with someone you are sexually and emotionally attracted to, you can't wait to get your slobber all over that dick, to feel it pounding at your vag over and over again. And that's the point - you WANT to be having sex with that person. You want to be enjoying that act and sharing those intimate moments with that person. The rest of the time, when it's with some random person - you're just looking to bust a nut, no? I thought that was how guys functioned.... But maybe I'm wrong.

Editor's Note: No sooner than a mere 6 hours after I made this post did previously mention Lame-o guy IM me and bring up in a span of 30 minutes:

  •  If I ever got a hold of copies of a sex tape I made recently
  • Why didn't I have copies of another sex tape I'd made previously as part of a Threesome
  • How come I don't send him half-naked pictures of myself anymore
  • Why don't I come up and hang out with him sometime and have a little debauchery in my life
  • How I am more than welcome to use him for sex in the meantime should I so feel like it (and then pretend that he was just joking when I told him I wasn't doing the casual sex thing anymore) 
  • How I would be a treat in bed because I love the "doggy style hair pull"
  • And how I am "Queen of the BJ and no one can remove my crown". 
All of which were met by resounding one-word answers or "Yeah, no. I'm all set with that." Further proving that Men can't and don't know how to take hints or know when they are consciously being creepy. 

Thursday, August 12, 2010

The Waiting Game

"When you're early, you're on time. When you're on time, you're late..."

When I was younger, my dad always taught me the importance of being early. We would always get to appointments, flights and parties long before our scheduled time because my dad told me it looked better if you got someplace before you were supposed to be there; If you got there right on time, you looked like you were running late. Also, it was important to give yourself ample time to get anywhere you needed to because you never knew what would happen along the way. As a result of this method of thinking, I have spent a lot of my life waiting.

In sixth grade, I had a crush on a boy but was too afraid and nervous to get up the courage to talk to him, especially since he himself was also pretty shy and quiet. Year after year passed, through middle school and eventually high school. I pined over that boy for nearly 7 years and never once did I manage to get up the cojones to open my mouth and make conversation. Every year I would make excuses that too much time had passed, we'd had all these classes together already, wouldn't it be silly to just kind of randomly start talking to him now? I suppose I could have found something simple to talk to him about: a homework assignment, a teacher, one of our exams. Heck, I even wound up having Driver's Ed with him in High School. We were even in the same car and he would fall asleep on me in the backseat. But even then, I just kept on waiting; I waited in the hopes that he would eventually get around to talking to me first. As a result, I let a crush go by for 7 years without knowing what could have been if I had just spoken up.

In college, I waited around for a guy I wish I had never waited around for. We dated for about 2 weeks and then he broke up with me because he had "stuff" going on and couldn't have a girlfriend. I waited for a few weeks and then gave up and broke off contact with him. But then somewhere along the lines, I decided it would be a good idea to wait around in the hopes that he would call me up and we'd get back together again. He did eventually call me up - but it turned out he wasn't looking for a girlfriend & proceeded to date me and another girl at the same time. And so, I kept waiting for him to change his mind and make me his girlfriend. He did eventually, after the other girl wound up getting serious with someone else. And so we were together and things were going pretty good for a while. But then, things got bad and then they got worse, and I waited around in the hopes that things would go back to the way they were; That he would be as loving and caring towards me as he had once been. That he would be the same fun loving person I remembered from the beginning of the relationship. And then one day, I realized I had been waiting too long and everything fell apart. He was never going to change and so, I finally got tired of waiting.

Sometimes waiting can be a good thing. I got to my current job interview almost an hour before I had to be there because it was in a different state and I was unfamiliar with the area and traffic patterns. The interview went great, but then I had to wait around to hear back from them. And then I had a phone interview. And then I had to wait some more because there was some "Changing of the Guard" in their HR department. Then, finally, almost a month after my interview, I got the job. In that case, all that waiting really paid off.

After my breakup with my ex, I had a lot of trust issues and did a lot of random dating and "casual encounters". I was waiting for someone to come along who would make me forget about the shit-fest of a relationship I had been in for 3 years. Waiting for someone who I could let my guard down with and who made me feel like me again. I dated a couple of guys and waited to feel that connection, that spark, that perfect chemistry - and it never came. Then, one day as I was waiting, someone totally unexpected came along who made me feel all those things and I thought my waiting had come to an end. But then, something else totally unexpected happened and he found out he was moving out of the country and the worst part of all? He didn't want me waiting.

But... but... how do I not wait? Waiting is what I do. I'm always waiting. Waiting for a better deal on those shoes at the mall. Waiting for all the traffic to be gone before turning. Waiting until a line goes down before I decide to get in it. Waiting for another bus to come when the first one is too full. Waiting is what I've always done. It's just what I do. Is it another form of procrastination? Perhaps. But don't they have all these brilliant quotes about waiting? "Good things come to those who wait"?

And so he left and I waited....

and waited...

and waited some more.

The waiting was long and painful and torturous; still I endured. Finally, I heard from him and I thought my waiting to be over. Yet, still now, I find myself waiting. Waiting for answers to messages and emails. Waiting for these long months to pass until I see him again. Waiting to see when (or if?) he'll come back. Waiting to see if there's really a future in all this, after all of this waiting. The waiting has become tiring and all-consuming. "So why don't you just stop waiting?", you're probably thinking. Because I feel like there's something worth waiting for. I know it is probably stupid and pointless and a waste of time to be doing all this waiting, but I want to. Because sometimes it's better to have waited and to have nothing come of the waiting than to not have waited and missed out on something amazing. That's why I'm waiting. And until I have reason to believe otherwise, I'll keep on waiting.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Be who you are and say what you feel...

..."Because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind." - Dr. Seuss

So as I've already said before, I am a proud, flag-waving, card-carrying Bisexual. I'm also a giant Fag Hag and a huge supporter of Gay Rights. I am also a big fan of the show, "Degrassi: The Next Generation". For those of you who aren't familiar, it is a long-running Canadian teen drama that has tackled every topic under the sun from teen pregnancy to school shootings to domestic abuse to eating disorders and everything in between. This season, they have introduced an FTM (Female-to-Male) Transgendered character named Adam. I think that it it so amazing and progressive that they have done something like this, to give a face to the Trans community and give young kids who are struggling with their identity someone that they can look to and to see their similar struggles play out on TV. It's really so unfortunate that there aren't more LBGT characters on TV - especially not in the U.S. It's even more unfortunate that here and now in the year 2010, we still live in a world where people hate other people for no reason, for things that they are scared of and things they don't understand and are too afraid to try and learn about.

When I first realized I was bisexual, I joined the LGBT group at my college in an effort to try and learn more and be more connected with that community. I had heard of transsexuals and drag queens, but I mostly associated it with men dressing as women. In our group, we had 3 FTM trans-gendered guys - one of them actually lived in my dorm freshman year. I remember seeing him on our all-girl floor and being confused as to why this guy was living on our floor. 2 of them were pre-op trans and one of them had actually gone through sexual reassignment surgery and was a post-op trans man. His story was especially moving because he came from a very strict Middle Eastern household and for him to have come out as trans was probably something completely earth shattering for his family. Apparently, his parents were able to cope with it - as they supported him through the surgery and his new life as a Man. But not as many Trans people are so lucky.

Being trans-gendered has certainly become a lot more public recently than it had been in the past. It has even been glamorized on TV with the VH1 show "TRANSform me!"  But obviously there is still a lot of stigma attached to being Transgendered, even within the Gay community. And of course, there is still a stigma attached to being Gay, Lesbian or Bisexual in general, regardless of how public, commercialized, stereotyped and sensationalized the lifestyles have become in the mainstream. We still live in a country where high ranking members of our Military are fired after having long and important careers because of their Sexual Orientation, thanks to Don't Ask, Don't Tell. We still live in a country where Gays and Lesbians cannot legally get married, where our elected Government officials are fighting to define Marriage as the union between "One man and One woman". We may have a Black president in the White house, but is that where the progressiveness of our country ends?

I write this post with tears in my eyes and hope in my heart as I dream of a day where Gays and Lesbians can get married in the state that they live in and have their marriage recognized all across our great nation. Where they can share their love in a world that is open to love instead of hate. Where young gay boys and girls won't have to be afraid to go to school because they will be beat up because of who they choose to love and who to be. Where gay men and women won't be afraid to be who they are in a successful job because they might be fired for loving who they choose to love. People shouldn't be afraid of being who they are or doing what they feel. Because Love is Love - and that's all that really matters.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Shitting where you eat

I have tried to make it a point not to hook up with people that I work with. However, in the past, I haven't always had the best power of restraint. I thought it wouldn't be a problem because we only worked together on the weekends. Boy, did it turn out that I would be soooooooooo wrong!

My first foray into dating again after my ex-bf-from-hell started with some light and casual flirting at work with this total cutie at my part time job at the local movie theater. He was tall, dark and handsome - everything I loved in a man. He was always brooding and aloof and sexy/serious as he swept the movie theater's rows and lifted bags of trash with some sexily sculpted arms. I could tell he was a little bit into me, but I couldn't get him to close the deal. But thanks to the power of the internet (and lots of Carlo Rossi jug wine!), I sent him a friend request and a subsequent message on Facebook asking him if he wanted to "show me around since I was new in town".

I trembled with nervousness all day that Sunday since I was working the day shift and he would be coming in as I was leaving. I even started freaking out and thinking that maybe I had misread his signals and this was all a bad idea and let me sneak out of here before he sees me. But he cornered me at the elevator.

"So, what's with you poking me on Facebook?" 
"Oh, you know, I was just... saying hey." 
"So, I got your message...." *insert me holding my breath in anticipation* ".And I'd love to hang out sometime." ..
"Ok, cool." *insert my GIANT sigh of relief* And I wrote down my number and told him to call me sometime.

He called me up the afternoon after my Grandmother's funeral and it made all the sadness and misery I felt from my loss fade away for that  moment. We had a date the next night to go to the movies (how original!) and after we hung up, I waltzed into my living room, twirled past my parents and then back into my room and landed on my bed. I had a date! With a boy that I liked!

Our date was simple. We saw a horrible movie that I picked out (there weren't too many other options) and then grabbed drinks at a local cafe. We took a walk around the little quaint downtown area of the town my parent's recently re-located to and then stood in the parking lot talking by our cars. If he didn't kiss me, I swore I was gonna scream. It was obvious I might need to take things into my own hands. Our conversation went like this: (in reference to talking about our interests and things that are exciting)

Him: "You've seen me at work.... Have you ever seen me get excited about anything?"
Me: "Hmm, true... But I can think of a few things to get excited about."
*Insert exchanged glances, wicked smiles and our bodies and faces leaning in together for one of the best kisses ever* 

It was cold and we opted to take this into the backseat of his car where we continued talking and kissing and with me never wanting the night to end. Finally, it was late and we parted ways, but we would see each other at work that weekend. On our shift change encounter on Sunday, we decided to arrange another meetup for when he got out of work that night. I met him at the theater, we got some beers and then he took me for a drive around town and down to the waterfront where we steamed up the windows of his Pathfinder and I got to see even more of his perfect and sexy rock climber's body.

I called him that Friday night at work and made another date with him to another pretty bad movie for when I got out of work. Then the next night, I waited for him to get out of work so I could invite him over to "watch TV" at my house - which actually wound up being watching TV for an hour or so and then he would tell me, "It's late - I'd better go." And then we'd make out and fool around for about another 45 minutes. And ok, maybe after this I might have gotten a little bit clingy. I stalked his Facebook page. I'd wait for him in the lobby of the theater for him to get off work when I got out earlier than him. But he didn't seem to mind.

We had a work meeting early one Saturday morning and we sat together and tried to look interested in emergency exits and evacuation techniques. When it ended, I went to get my paycheck but couldn't find him. I walked out to my car and there he was, waiting for me for a change. It was the cutest thing ever. He was parked right next to me and asked if I wanted to hang out for a bit. So we drove around some more and went down to the beach again (it certainly looked a lot different during the day and from not the backseat.) The audubon society building was there so we went inside and checked it out, then walked down onto the beach and I nuzzled into the back of his shoulder and he looked down at me and I looked up and we smiled. We drove back and he wanted to stop in some store that his sister conveniently worked in to look at jeans. Then we decided to part ways and go home for a bit since we both had to work that night.

I got out early and this time, I was waiting for him at his car. I invited him back to my house and we watched TV again - like clockwork, 2 episodes of "Entourage" later and he was telling me he'd "better go" but instead, we were kissing and turning the lights off and taking off clothes. Suddenly, we were on the verge of having sex, he was inside me and it was like MAGIC! I felt like I'd just spotted a unicorn in a field of rainbows. I had been waiting for this moment and all it's awesomeness for weeks. And then... he wasn't inside me anymore. He pulled back and I was confused. I offered some oral compensation so he wasn't left hanging and then, he really did have to go. The next weekend at work was semi-awkward. I could sense he was kind of uncomfortable about what happened and we didn't hang out again that week.

The following weekend changed everything. I got drunk with my ex-gf at her aunt's house and she left him some kind of voicemail which I still don't completely remember, but I am 99.9% sure it involved her talking about his cock a lot and possibly about the 30 seconds in heaven and insulting him. But you can bet your ass, the next weekend at work, I got the coldest fucking shoulder ever. He never spoke to me again after that. I tried sending him some messages on Facebook to find out what I did wrong, but he never responded to me.

And then, 9 months later, he quit the movie theater.

I pined over him and lusted over him for those whole 9 months before he left, hoping he would come around and that we would be able to mend the rift. We went about pretty good avoiding each other for a while, exchanging dirty looks and eye rolls. By the end, we just kind of gave up the hostility but we never had a complete conversation; The closest I came was when he asked me if I was collecting bottle caps (which I had been to get points for free shit) and tossed me a few coke caps.  Everyone else we worked with pretty much knew we hooked up. Some probably knew the whole story and the rest probably filled it in on their own. Either way, I'll never know the complete truth about that voicemail and what happened.

And so the moral of the story kiddos is:
1) Don't fuck around with people you work with
2) Don't dick and tell.
3) Don't let dumb drunk lesbians take your phone and drunk dial dudes who you are infatuated with

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

The Cheater

So, as you may or may not already know, I have been in a year long relationship with the City of Philadelphia. We had a few sparks at the beginning when we first met, but somewhere over the past few months, the magic has started to wear off. We never really had a lot in common to begin with: its public transportation system was lacking in all areas, its highways were always unnecessarily traffic laden, the outdated alcohol laws made me angry and frustrated and let's not even get started about their baseball team. The city itself was central and lively, but too small to really get a feel for. And if you strayed too far from the bright lights and touristy areas (which was pretty easy to do if you went a street too far) you found yourself in some ne'er-do-well parts of town . I yearned for long city blocks and a girthy and easy to navigate grid system, where neighborhoods were separate and rarely interspersed with the nightlife.

And so, yesterday, I cheated on Philadelphia with my first love, New York City.

I snuck out early in the morning and told Philly I would see it later on that night, giving it a obligatory kiss on the cheek goodbye, and hopped a bus at 30th Street Station into NYC. A mere two hours later, I was staring at New York's sprawling skyline across the Hudson river and stepping off the bus onto 8th ave, we were reunited. It felt so good to be part of the crowds and buildings and hustle and bustle. Tourists, street vendors, flyer giver-outers, business men and women on lunch, and vagrants surrounded me on all side as I caught my good ol' New Yorker stride and made my way through those hot and beautifully dirty city streets. I weaved in and out of the slow walkers, ignored requests for spare change, free samples and discounted lunches.I know these streets like the back of my hand. And riding the subway? It's just like second nature.

As my day went on and I enjoyed sitting in cafes and five star restaurants, watching yellow cabs pass by, I didn't want this reunion to end. I wanted to curl up in New York's big, strong, sprawling arms and lay there forever, letting it hold me in a loving embrace with all its lights and sounds and smells and strange nuiances. I walked through Grand Central with a swift immediacy as I had to run and catch my bus back to Philly, worried that if I didn't make it back in time my current partner would know something was amiss. But with each quickened foot step, each flat shoe that pounded the pavement as I ran to catch that bus, something deep inside me longed for a day where I would never have to run again, where I would never have to worry about leaving, where I would never have to worry about making it home because, I'd already be there.


Unfortunately, Philadelphia and I are still in a relationship for at least another year thanks to this little binding contract known as a lease. But a year from now, I know I'll be back in New York's embrace, reunited like long lost lovers (and hopefully with my own long lost lover). And when it asks me if I'll be there forever, til death do us part? With tears in my eyes, I'll proudly say "I will."

Sunday, August 1, 2010

The Date: The Wrap-Up

So, I was supposed to go on a date Friday night. I decided to pre-game the Jersey Shore premiere Thursday night with countless Red Bull & Vodka, which led to a pretty awful hangover on Friday. After feeling like shit all day and having my date not even tell me where we were going until 2:30 - plus, yelling at myself in the mirror for 10 minutes that I didn't wanna go on the date - I finally texted him around 4:30 and told him I wasn't going to be able to make it because I had an emergency. (aka sit in my house and be lazy) He asked if I wanted to reschedule for Saturday night. I agreed because actually, that would work out a lot better since I had to work Saturday morning anyway so going out Friday night I would have felt rushed.

I felt much better Saturday: more relaxed and refreshed. Hell, I even went to Target and mulled over several different outfit options that I could wear on my date. (Along with multiple text messages to my BFF involving combinations of tops, jeans & shoes) I got dressed, did my hair and makeup and got on the bus looking entirely way too pretty for public transit. We were meeting at this nice looking Mexican restaurant with an impressive tequila selection; It was totally way fancy inside with old wood-carved moldings, giant sparkly chandeliers and draperies sections off dining areas.

He was sitting at the bar when I walked in and I recognized him as most of what I had expected considering he had only one picture on dating site - and it was a side shot, reminiscent of those MySpace profile pics. I ordered a Margarita, no salt, and the introductions began. We snacked on delicious chips and fresh guac in some giant stone bowl possibly shaped like a pig. We talked about work and school and True Blood and nerdyness, had a few more drinks and dinner, talked a bit more, then decided to head to another bar for drinks. We went to a local sports pub, ordered some beers, talked about Inception and Batman and the X-Games and Boxing and Japan. Then a drunken group from a pub crawl came in and we apparently made accidental friends with the drunk guy who sat next to me, invaded my personal space bubble, then proceeded to throw spit balls at his friends across the bar. We took this as our cue to leave.We walked around a park and sat on a bench and talked some more about family and friends and Philadelphia, spotted a stray cat hunting, did some fancy dog watching and then it was getting late and I had to catch my bus back. So we walked to the bus stop, talked some more and then said our goodbyes.

No hug. No goodnight kiss. Just a "I had a good time tonight. When you come back from vacation, we'll talk again." and I got on the bus. I feel bad, but I kind of already knew straight away at the restaurant that this wasn't going to go anywhere. No spark, no chemistry. He was very nice and a cool guy though and hopefully maybe we can be friends and I can expand my social circle beyond my co-workers and Drag Queens. It's also really hard to try and go on dates when you're pretty much head over heels in love with someone else, but maybe I am taking a step in the right direction. To even have gone on this date to begin with was huge for me. I have to not let myself stagnate this year and keep everything moving forward towards where I want to go and what I want to eventually do with my life.

But maybe I'll have more luck next time....