I went through a bit of a dry spell after my first ONS, but much like my first two-timing experience, I once again found myself with more men than I could handle. I envisioned myself this pimptress (is this even a real word?), juggling several guys all at once. But once all the balls (no puns please) were up in the air, I found myself in the end standing with empty hands.
So what else is Facebook good for if not as a way to reconnect with your best friend from high school's ex boyfriend who you had a mild crush on and almost ruined your friendship over when you may or may not have been flirting with him? Well, that is exactly what happened to me. "Gene" (Not his real name, obviously.) sent me a friend request and then a message asking me how I'd been. He noticed that I was now living in CT and he was living in the area as well and asked if I'd like to get together some time and reminisce. Sure, why not? Sounds like an awesome idea - I agreed. Then, spent the time beforehand debating if it was a date or not. I hadn't seen him in years and didn't even know if I would be interested. When I showed up, he was with a male friend so, whew! I figured it wasn't a date. Relieved and relaxed, I was just ready to drink some beers and shoot the shit with them and catch up on the past 8 years. Then his friend left and things suddenly started creeping into pseudo date territory. We left, hit up another bar, then decided to get some food and go back to his apt a few blocks away.
We eat and start watching some TV and then, the theatrics begin. Gene starts telling me how he had a crush on me in high school and gets closer on the couch. He even went so far as to tell me he used to jerk off thinking about me. (I will chalk that up to a very drunken TMI slip of the tongue. I guess maybe he thought he was complimenting me?) Which of course leads to him kissing me and telling me how he "always wanted to do that". I'm not really looking for anything serious so I'm ready to get down to business in the bedroom, to which he tries to slow things down and tell me that he thinks we could have something good going on here. (To which I rolled my eyes and he couldn't see because we were in the dark. He really could have gotten an Oscar for this performance.) I was like um... whatever? Are we gonna bone? Are we not gonna bone? Because I have work in the morning.
So yeah. We boned. It was fun and pretty decent and lasted longer than I expected since he was giving me all this 16 year old boy runaround talk on the couch. I left and went home and then spent a week playing the "Is he gonna call? Why hasn't he called?" game. Gene finally texted and invited me to hang out at his friend's house after his band practice. Which led to another semi-coupley BBQ get together. I couldn't tell if he wanted us to be fuck buddies or if he wanted to date me. (And I really wasn't in the mood for serious dating.)
Meanwhile, while I was out one evening with two of my girl friends (twins!), I was introduced to their brother's really cute friend (Who is to be referred to as Awkward Math Teacher or AMT for short - I'll explain later.) who had just come back from teaching English in China. (And I had just gotten rejected from a program to teach English in Japan.) Hoping to bond over a few drinks, we all decided to do a round of shots. Unfortunately, for AMT there was pineapple juice in the shot and he's severely allergic to pineapple. So he had to leave and go try not to die.
Of course my friends tried to play matchmaker: "Oh! Isn't AMT cute? You guys would be cute together! He really liked you!" He met me for 5 minutes, seriously? It took a few weeks but eventually, they managed to get us in the same place at the same time: Extremely drunk at a bar crawl. As I stood at a bar ordering a beer, he drunkenly walked over and asked if I wanted to do shots in a slurred tone. All I could do was smile and giggle. So he took my beer, drank it and then took my hand and led me out of the bar - and across the street to the hotel him and my friends' brother were staying in.
Personally, having sex with someone you've barely exchanged more than two sentences is not usually my thing. But throw a bunch of Red Bull/Vodkas into the mix (my Kryptonite) and just about anything will go down. (Including me. Yes, I walked right into that one.) I woke up in the morning to more sex as we tried to keep quiet with my friend's brother & gf sleeping in the next bed. Then, I played the "Where the eff are my clothes game?", shoved my panties in my purse, and found myself walk of shaming right into breakfast/lunch with AMT, my friends' brother, his gf, and another couple they were friends with. Here I am in my same clothes, hair a mess, smelling like booze, while everyone else looks fresh as a daisy. (Especially the Abercrombie poster couple sitting with us.) Fan-fucking-tastic.
So AMT drove me home while we made awkward conversation and my parents definitely watched me get out of this guy's car. (They learned not to ask questions anymore though.) We went out a few more times but there was one big problem: He was a Math teacher and incredibly awkward with absolutely no personality I'd try to get him to talk and it just wasn't working. He kept suggesting movie dates, but I really wanted to get to know him and I figured the only way to get him to talk was to try loosening him up with some booze. (Typical Irish though, I suppose.)
Meanwhile, Gene is trying to be all serious with me, asking if I was sleeping with anyone else. No, of course not - I lie - but I am dating other people. Which I guess gave him the ok to give up psuedo-dating me and just booty call me instead. (Sure, I'll come over your place at 12:30 in the morning, no problem.) Then, after an unfortunate incident involving my gag reflex, I didn't hear from him for a while and just said, Fuck it, not worth it. He did try to contact me again a few months later and was all "Hey, what's going on? Haven't talked to you in a while" (on Facebook no less), to which I replied, "Nothing. Moved to Philly." and deleted his ass off my friends list.
Back to AMT: After several attempts to try and get some chemistry going, I decided to up the ante one night when we went out for dinner. I wore my cutest skirt, took my panties off in the bathroom and let him find out on his own. It drove him nuts! He was all, "Wow. You're so sexy in that skirt." Finally! The response I'd be waiting for. But, as quickly as the fireworks were lit, they fizzled out. On more than one occasion. (He may or may not have had some kind of erm, performance issues that may or may not have been alcohol related.) And so, I stopped hearing from him and just gave up on the whole thing all together. It just wasn't meant to be.
....
They say when it rains it pours, but sometimes, I guess I'd rather just be in a drought.
Showing posts with label awkward. Show all posts
Showing posts with label awkward. Show all posts
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
One Night Only
So we've all had one of those nights where we've had more than enough to drink and make the bad decision to go home with someone we will definitely regret in the morning. Oh, you haven't? Well, I'll be damned! Anyway, for those of us who have partaken in the One Night Stand (ONS) and the inevitable Walk (or Drive, or Subway, or Bus, whatever.) of Shame home - then you should be able to relate to my next series of sexual hijinks.
My first one night stand occurred a few months after the whole LF/34 y/o incidents. My Gay BFF, his boyfriend and I all went out for the evening and being the doting Gay BFF that he is, decided it was his duty to get me laid. We happened to meet up with one of his straight friends from his Rugby team to pregame before going out. I was thoroughly unimpressed with this kid: He was short, seemed kind of cocky and annoying - he was telling us some story how he flew to Vermont to spend the weekend with some 34 year old Cougar he met over the holidays. (Right, because this story is supposed to impress 2 Gays and a Chick?) Anyway, we get out to the bars, have a bunch of beers, and my Gay BFF pulls me aside and says to me, "I'm sending you home with X." At this point I'm pretty much in drunken whatever mode so I agree to go along with it. We cab it back to X's house where we left the car and I head inside with X as the Gays head home. X and I are pretty clear about what is about to go down, but he has to go take his dog for a walk first. So I take my pants off and get into his bed - make it easy, just like ripping off a band-aid.
Once he comes back, making out commences, as well as oral activities - my half consists of me laying there waiting for something interesting to happen and fake moaning. Finally, I guess X has decided its time to get down to business and goes to get a condom. Already unimpressed with the size of his cock, I know this is going to require some serious acting skills. But I am completely thrown off when he asks me, "Ok, where do you want it?" to which I reply, "Um... My vagina??" And 15 minutes later the deed is done and I roll over and go to bed.
I wake up in the morning with a slight hangover and a worry of how I am going to get back to my Gay's house. (Which is an hour away by train) I've got enough cash on me to cab it to the train station and for the train, but figuring out how to do all this at 8 AM is a task in itself. I try calling my Gay and get sent straight to voicemail. Fuck. Meanwhile, X wakes up and now I have to try and make awkward post-coital conversation with him when all I wanna do is put my pants on and peace the fuck outta there. Luckily, he offers to drive me to my Gay's house (seriously?) which is a total relief - until I realize that requires me to sit in a car with him for an hour at 9 in the morning and partake in more awkward forced conversation. He drops me off. My Gay is still not answering the phone and I have to ring the doorbell and shame myself in front of his Beastly roommate in her grandma PJs.
The punchline of this story is that 8 months later, I moved in with my Gay BFF and X was our 3rd roommate for a short period of time, with a super clingy girlfriend who was at our house so often she should have been paying rent. I had thought of shattering her little precious X filled world by telling her about our erm, glorious ONS, but decided to spare her - and spare myself the reminder in the process.
..............
My second ONS was pretty interesting, considering that I can only remember bits and pieces of it. We went out for Happy Hour after work and my coworker invited her husband and his friend, Y, who I had met at a previous Happy Hour and didn't care much for. (Again, annoying and cocky. Do I have a magnet on me?) So, I made the mistake of drinking 4 beers with 9% alcohol each and not realizing how drunk I was until I knocked my chair over and my coworker flagged me. Also, that night we were expecting a massive snowstorm and it had just begun to flurry as we were wrapping things up around 8-9 PM. So she volunteered to drive my car to Y's house and Y would drive me & babysit me there until I sobered up enough to go home. Big Mistake.
All I remember is one minute I am sitting on this guy's couch, innocently watching Yes Man, which is a pretty good movie. I quite liked Jim Carrey & Zooey Deschannel's chemistry - plus all 3 of us have the same birthday: January 17 - which I pointed out to Y as my little tidbit of knowledge. And then the conversation moved on to talking about tattoos (something in the movie happened with tattoos), to which I lowered the band on my jeans to show him my tattoo that is on my hip. And the next thing I know, I am naked and sitting on this guy's lap and he is manhandling me and kissing me and telling me how great my breasts and ass are. (To which I just blush and giggle, because its pretty much true and I love compliments.) Well, the last thing I remember is going to the bathroom naked and thinking "OMG WTF!" because then I woke up naked in his bed at 6:45 in the morning going "OMG WTF!".
So, remember that snowstorm I talked about earlier? Well, a foot or so of snow had accumulated over night and I was trying to figure out how I was gonna Walk of Shame my way out of this. I went to the living room and retrieved my clothes and got dressed as quickly as I could before this guy could wake up. However, he busted me as I had one shoe on and said, "You were just gonna leave!?" to which I most honestly responded, "Yeahhhh... Pretty much?" I was not about to get snowed in here all day with this guy (especially when I checked his fridge and all he had was a Brita Filter and a 30 rack of Miller Lite), so yeah, I was itching to get out of there. How I was going to find my car and clean it off, well, I would have figured all that out later.
He asked if I had a shovel. I said nope. So he told me to give him a few minutes and he would clear my car off for me. (What a gentleman!) I curled up in a hungover ball watching The OC on SoapNET as he went outside to find my car and clear it off. Finally, he came back and the biggest wave of relief rushed over me. I quickly put my coat on, grabbed my purse and keys and he started walking me out to my car. (I really didn't want to have to make small talk.) I got in my car, waited for it to warm up, brushed a lil more snow off with my scraper in the backseat - all as he stood there waiting for.... something? (I dunno, maybe he just wanted to see that I got off ok?) So, when my car was finally ready, I thanked him for cleaning off my car, did the awkward hug thing and tried my best to drive through the on-going blizzard and barely-plowed streets home. (Thank god for All Wheel Drive.)
Now, how many of you have ever done the "Shame Stroll" during a blizzard?
My first one night stand occurred a few months after the whole LF/34 y/o incidents. My Gay BFF, his boyfriend and I all went out for the evening and being the doting Gay BFF that he is, decided it was his duty to get me laid. We happened to meet up with one of his straight friends from his Rugby team to pregame before going out. I was thoroughly unimpressed with this kid: He was short, seemed kind of cocky and annoying - he was telling us some story how he flew to Vermont to spend the weekend with some 34 year old Cougar he met over the holidays. (Right, because this story is supposed to impress 2 Gays and a Chick?) Anyway, we get out to the bars, have a bunch of beers, and my Gay BFF pulls me aside and says to me, "I'm sending you home with X." At this point I'm pretty much in drunken whatever mode so I agree to go along with it. We cab it back to X's house where we left the car and I head inside with X as the Gays head home. X and I are pretty clear about what is about to go down, but he has to go take his dog for a walk first. So I take my pants off and get into his bed - make it easy, just like ripping off a band-aid.
Once he comes back, making out commences, as well as oral activities - my half consists of me laying there waiting for something interesting to happen and fake moaning. Finally, I guess X has decided its time to get down to business and goes to get a condom. Already unimpressed with the size of his cock, I know this is going to require some serious acting skills. But I am completely thrown off when he asks me, "Ok, where do you want it?" to which I reply, "Um... My vagina??" And 15 minutes later the deed is done and I roll over and go to bed.
I wake up in the morning with a slight hangover and a worry of how I am going to get back to my Gay's house. (Which is an hour away by train) I've got enough cash on me to cab it to the train station and for the train, but figuring out how to do all this at 8 AM is a task in itself. I try calling my Gay and get sent straight to voicemail. Fuck. Meanwhile, X wakes up and now I have to try and make awkward post-coital conversation with him when all I wanna do is put my pants on and peace the fuck outta there. Luckily, he offers to drive me to my Gay's house (seriously?) which is a total relief - until I realize that requires me to sit in a car with him for an hour at 9 in the morning and partake in more awkward forced conversation. He drops me off. My Gay is still not answering the phone and I have to ring the doorbell and shame myself in front of his Beastly roommate in her grandma PJs.
The punchline of this story is that 8 months later, I moved in with my Gay BFF and X was our 3rd roommate for a short period of time, with a super clingy girlfriend who was at our house so often she should have been paying rent. I had thought of shattering her little precious X filled world by telling her about our erm, glorious ONS, but decided to spare her - and spare myself the reminder in the process.
..............
My second ONS was pretty interesting, considering that I can only remember bits and pieces of it. We went out for Happy Hour after work and my coworker invited her husband and his friend, Y, who I had met at a previous Happy Hour and didn't care much for. (Again, annoying and cocky. Do I have a magnet on me?) So, I made the mistake of drinking 4 beers with 9% alcohol each and not realizing how drunk I was until I knocked my chair over and my coworker flagged me. Also, that night we were expecting a massive snowstorm and it had just begun to flurry as we were wrapping things up around 8-9 PM. So she volunteered to drive my car to Y's house and Y would drive me & babysit me there until I sobered up enough to go home. Big Mistake.
All I remember is one minute I am sitting on this guy's couch, innocently watching Yes Man, which is a pretty good movie. I quite liked Jim Carrey & Zooey Deschannel's chemistry - plus all 3 of us have the same birthday: January 17 - which I pointed out to Y as my little tidbit of knowledge. And then the conversation moved on to talking about tattoos (something in the movie happened with tattoos), to which I lowered the band on my jeans to show him my tattoo that is on my hip. And the next thing I know, I am naked and sitting on this guy's lap and he is manhandling me and kissing me and telling me how great my breasts and ass are. (To which I just blush and giggle, because its pretty much true and I love compliments.) Well, the last thing I remember is going to the bathroom naked and thinking "OMG WTF!" because then I woke up naked in his bed at 6:45 in the morning going "OMG WTF!".
So, remember that snowstorm I talked about earlier? Well, a foot or so of snow had accumulated over night and I was trying to figure out how I was gonna Walk of Shame my way out of this. I went to the living room and retrieved my clothes and got dressed as quickly as I could before this guy could wake up. However, he busted me as I had one shoe on and said, "You were just gonna leave!?" to which I most honestly responded, "Yeahhhh... Pretty much?" I was not about to get snowed in here all day with this guy (especially when I checked his fridge and all he had was a Brita Filter and a 30 rack of Miller Lite), so yeah, I was itching to get out of there. How I was going to find my car and clean it off, well, I would have figured all that out later.
He asked if I had a shovel. I said nope. So he told me to give him a few minutes and he would clear my car off for me. (What a gentleman!) I curled up in a hungover ball watching The OC on SoapNET as he went outside to find my car and clear it off. Finally, he came back and the biggest wave of relief rushed over me. I quickly put my coat on, grabbed my purse and keys and he started walking me out to my car. (I really didn't want to have to make small talk.) I got in my car, waited for it to warm up, brushed a lil more snow off with my scraper in the backseat - all as he stood there waiting for.... something? (I dunno, maybe he just wanted to see that I got off ok?) So, when my car was finally ready, I thanked him for cleaning off my car, did the awkward hug thing and tried my best to drive through the on-going blizzard and barely-plowed streets home. (Thank god for All Wheel Drive.)
Now, how many of you have ever done the "Shame Stroll" during a blizzard?
Monday, June 28, 2010
The Politics of Dating
There are all kinds of dating pressures in your 20s. Many people think back to their parents’ and grandparents’ day and kind of use that as a barometer against where they should be in life. One might go, "Oh, well my parents were married by the time they were my age, so my clock is ticking." Others think, "Fuck that shit - Your 20s are for partying and screwing around. You've got the rest of your life to settle down." So what should you do? Do whatever feels right. Don't feel pressured to have to be married and settled down with a house and kids by the time you're 30. Don't feel pressured to have to go out and sleep with any and everyone you meet. Remember that what might be right for someone else might not be the right choice for you. It's just like anything in life really. There is always going to be pressure to fit in with your peers, societal constraints telling you to do XYZ and not ABC.
A lot of women think that they're going to get too old to have kids and feel this indescribable need to sit around and complain that "OMG I'm almost 26 years old and I'm single and I'm never going to get married! And I wanna be a Mommy!" That mentality is almost certain to make sure that that "SINGLE" label stands on a little bit longer. Guys don't want you coming right off the bat saying "Oh, well, my goal is to be married and have kids by the time I'm 30." Because clearly, if he knows you're 26 - he factors in the fact that you're trying to accomplish all this in the next 4 years and instantly evaluates whether he wants to be part of that greater plan or calculates where the nearest exit is.
That's not to say that all Guys are commitment-phobic. Obviously, some men would like to get married one day, but if they think they're being put on the countdown meter based on your "clock", that's a lot of pressure. It gets worse as a Guy sees all his friends around him settling down and he's still the only single one. There go all the weekend binges and strip club outings. No one wants be the last Bachelor standing, right? How could someone take me seriously if all my friends are married and I'm not, right? Well, don't go rushing into something and married a Girl just because that's what she wants and that's what you see everyone else doing. Odds are you'll either wind up resenting her for "trapping" you in a marriage before you were ready or eventually wind up getting divorced.
And not every Girl feels like she wants to get married either. The thing about being a girl is - growing up, you're expected to be prim and proper and not skanky and slutty. Then you hit your 20s and realize how amazing sex is and your libido kicks in and you just wanna hump everything in sight and now you can be a kinky bitch all you want without the worry of rumors running the halls of your high school or doing the walk of shame home from the Kappa Sig house every weekend.
You're 20-something and single. You don't have to be in a relationship if you don't want to. You can date and screw whoever you want and be however serious about the situation you want. The world is your oyster. Who cares if you only wanna go out with a guy just to get a free meal and a fuck? That's your prerogative! All these years you've been dating like a chick - and getting fucked over because of it. Think about all those guys you cried over, all those pints of Ben & Jerry's you ate. It's about time you dated like a man - liberate yourself. It's 2010 after all. But of course, most importantly - carry condoms! Don't think just because you're a Girl you should depend on the guy. Because if you get horny and he doesn't have one, how disappointed will you be then? (And don't even think of letting him "pull out" - You should both be able to have mind-blowing orgasms together without worrying about getting pregnant.) Same thing goes for you, Guys. Always carry condoms. Just because a chick is totally hot and says she's the pill doesn't mean that she is - and it doesn't mean she doesn't have herpes either. Because if you don't, guess what? Not only did you not want get married in the first place, but now, congratulations! You're a daddy!
..........
This week, I'm focusing my blog on some of the more interesting, possibly embarrassing and excruciatingly awful dating experiences I've had as of late. I was a serial monogamist for a very long time. I was constantly in back-to-back long term relationships. Only slept with guys that I was seriously dating. All that changed when my asshole of an ex ruined my life and basically made me swear off getting close to anyone every again. So I started dating like a Guy so I didn't get played like a little bitch. I had some good times, some bad, some amazing and some things I experienced that can never be undone or unseen. Those encounters are as follows...
A lot of women think that they're going to get too old to have kids and feel this indescribable need to sit around and complain that "OMG I'm almost 26 years old and I'm single and I'm never going to get married! And I wanna be a Mommy!" That mentality is almost certain to make sure that that "SINGLE" label stands on a little bit longer. Guys don't want you coming right off the bat saying "Oh, well, my goal is to be married and have kids by the time I'm 30." Because clearly, if he knows you're 26 - he factors in the fact that you're trying to accomplish all this in the next 4 years and instantly evaluates whether he wants to be part of that greater plan or calculates where the nearest exit is.
That's not to say that all Guys are commitment-phobic. Obviously, some men would like to get married one day, but if they think they're being put on the countdown meter based on your "clock", that's a lot of pressure. It gets worse as a Guy sees all his friends around him settling down and he's still the only single one. There go all the weekend binges and strip club outings. No one wants be the last Bachelor standing, right? How could someone take me seriously if all my friends are married and I'm not, right? Well, don't go rushing into something and married a Girl just because that's what she wants and that's what you see everyone else doing. Odds are you'll either wind up resenting her for "trapping" you in a marriage before you were ready or eventually wind up getting divorced.
And not every Girl feels like she wants to get married either. The thing about being a girl is - growing up, you're expected to be prim and proper and not skanky and slutty. Then you hit your 20s and realize how amazing sex is and your libido kicks in and you just wanna hump everything in sight and now you can be a kinky bitch all you want without the worry of rumors running the halls of your high school or doing the walk of shame home from the Kappa Sig house every weekend.
You're 20-something and single. You don't have to be in a relationship if you don't want to. You can date and screw whoever you want and be however serious about the situation you want. The world is your oyster. Who cares if you only wanna go out with a guy just to get a free meal and a fuck? That's your prerogative! All these years you've been dating like a chick - and getting fucked over because of it. Think about all those guys you cried over, all those pints of Ben & Jerry's you ate. It's about time you dated like a man - liberate yourself. It's 2010 after all. But of course, most importantly - carry condoms! Don't think just because you're a Girl you should depend on the guy. Because if you get horny and he doesn't have one, how disappointed will you be then? (And don't even think of letting him "pull out" - You should both be able to have mind-blowing orgasms together without worrying about getting pregnant.) Same thing goes for you, Guys. Always carry condoms. Just because a chick is totally hot and says she's the pill doesn't mean that she is - and it doesn't mean she doesn't have herpes either. Because if you don't, guess what? Not only did you not want get married in the first place, but now, congratulations! You're a daddy!
..........
This week, I'm focusing my blog on some of the more interesting, possibly embarrassing and excruciatingly awful dating experiences I've had as of late. I was a serial monogamist for a very long time. I was constantly in back-to-back long term relationships. Only slept with guys that I was seriously dating. All that changed when my asshole of an ex ruined my life and basically made me swear off getting close to anyone every again. So I started dating like a Guy so I didn't get played like a little bitch. I had some good times, some bad, some amazing and some things I experienced that can never be undone or unseen. Those encounters are as follows...
Friday, June 11, 2010
Square Peg in a Round Hole
I am an only child. Growing up, I was very independent and did a lot of keeping to myself mostly. I didn't have many friends growing up. But it didn't really bother me back then. I had my own group that I hung out with. I liked to go out and do things and have fun just as much as anyone else. (I avoided that whole party and get drunk on the weekends thing in HS though; It just wasn't really my thing.) My parents didn't have any friends, and they seemed fine. I never really thought it was strange that they didn't socialize with other Adults or my friends' parents or anything like that. And so, I didn't really think it was a problem. Until I got to College.
College is a time where you are supposed to make friends and branch out and explore the world outside the Parental bubble that has been built around you for the past 17 years of your life. Yeah, that didn't really work out so well for me. My college made us fill out surveys to determine our living and roommate situations. I said that I like things quiet and calm and neat, mostly because I didn't want some crazy party girl slut roommate always coming in at 3 am waking me up. The people over in Residence Life apparently took this as me basically being a nerdy shut-in and so I got placed in a dorm that the year before had been the "Quiet Dorm". It was all the way on the back end of campus. Most people I met had never even heard of it and asked if it was a real dorm. The building was an old house with U-shaped floors, separated single sex with girls on floors 1, 2 & 4 and guys on 3 & 5.
Half the people in my building went home on the weekends, so it was hard to mingle. This left me with little options other than the handful of people I had met at Orientation. Which meant that it was hard to make friends with people who were barely ever around, or to make new friends with people who weren't even sure you actually lived on campus. I started to notice that it was really hard for me to approach people. I guess I was always kind of shy growing up, until people really tried to get to know me. I didn't understand why I couldn't just go up and say "Hey, what's up?" and BOOM! Insta-Friend! I thought I was a pretty cool chick. I was definitely a nice person. And I liked to go out and have fun just like everyone else. So why couldn't I make friends?
I would get kind of a tingle in my nose thinking about social interaction. My heart would start to race a little. And I would feel like I was about to cry. I had social anxiety disorder. When I transferred schools and moved back home, I started to have increased anxiety and panicky episodes. I went to the doctor and she prescribed me Paroxetine (Paxil) and that began to help me a little bit. But I had already formed a big social group by becoming part of a big subculture: Raves. Raves were fun, giant parties with loud music and lots of people under the influence so it was easy to talk to people and make friends. (Especially if you were under the influence yourself sometimes as well.) I joined an internet forum for Ravers as well and began to meet many "friends" that way as well. I also enjoyed moderate Celebrity status as at every party, I wore a pair of Bunny ears and was instantly recognizable and lovable.
The Paxil worked pretty good for a while. I felt more confident. I was making friends. I was being more assertive. I had a good relationship and a good job. I wasn't feeling anymore anxiety. So I decided I didn't need to take it anymore. The medication had worked, right?
Cut to a few years later. I began dating a guy who treated me like shit. He caused me a great deal of stress and duress through his mannerisms, both towards me and in his everyday life. I started cutting myself off from these new friends I had made because I put myself in this bubble where it was just him. I was afraid of him and what he would do to me, and the hatred he had for my friends and family and the threats he would make against them. And the fool that I was, I loved him and didn't want to lose him. So I lost everyone else. And I lost myself in the process. I began having the anxiety attacks again. I was losing ground and didn't know how to fix it. I went back to the doctor again and she prescribed me Lexapro. The anxiety stopped, but the torture in my relationship continued.
I had burned so many bridges, it was hard to get my life back. I had been living with this animal and when we broke up, I had to move in with my parents who had moved almost an hour & 1/2 from where I grew up. It was the middle of nowhere and I was now 24 years old. It was going to be even harder to make friends. My mom suggested I get a part-time job. That worked for a bit. I stopped taking my medication again because I hated feeling mechanical and medicated. I made some friends and hung out a bit, but they weren't the kind of friends I was looking for. The area I was living in was very suburban and close knit, so it was very much like High School part 2. (Especially when you had 20 somethings hanging out with 16 year olds and drinking with them on the beach at night.) That just wasn't for me, so I cut them off too. Plus, I had finally found an out from this middle of nowhere place: a new job, a new city, a chance for a new life.
I moved to Philadelphia in the Summer of 2009. It was supposed to be my chance to start over. Make new friends, explore new places. (It was also supposed to be a chance for me to Love again, but that is a post to be saved for a later date.) Unfortunately, hanging out with Gay men (my best friend and his friends) didn't really give me much chance to explore my options. The one coworker close to my age in my office was married. Strike 2. And the fact that my love life imploded coupled with a depressingly long and blizzardy Philadelphia winter sunk me into a deep 5 month long depression.
With the warm weather here now, it should have put me in a better mood, but the fact remains: I am 26 years old and I don't know how to make friends. Everyone I meet is married, divorced, engaged, gay or in a relationship. I am afraid of marriage. I am wary of dating. I am afraid to trust and let people get close to me because I have been burned a lot recently. Where do you go to meet people and make friends when you are 20-something? And how do you go up to random strangers and make conversation without seeming like a complete Asperger's/Socially awkward weirdo?
As much of a nice and fun person I (like to think I) am, I wonder - Why would anyone want to be my friend? I don't really bring much to the table. My life is not exciting. I don't have a boyfriend. No siblings. I am not close with my family. And so I try to avoid social situations in which I have to talk about myself or my personal life. I don't really interact with others at my office because I hate small talk and don't really care about asking people how their weekends were or about their families because those are not people I'm interested in being friends with and do not like being friendly for the sake of being friendly. (Even though that is probably something I should be doing to develop my social skills to begin with, and maybe that is the problem.)
Should I blame my parents for never fostering these types of social skills in me? Maybe. Should I blame my ex for ruining my ability to trust and interact with other human beings? More than likely. My anxiety is slowly creeping back. Thinking about even being in a situation to meet people makes me uncomfortable and causes me stress and makes me cry. I do not want to medicate myself anymore. I want to be free of this. To be normal. To have fun and be social and to not have to use the Internet to make friends. (Even though some of the most interesting and awesome people I have met as of late have been from the Internet, and are even cooler in person, but unfortunately live 9000 miles away.)
I live alone in a strange city and have no friends close by or siblings or pets.
I am an only child.
College is a time where you are supposed to make friends and branch out and explore the world outside the Parental bubble that has been built around you for the past 17 years of your life. Yeah, that didn't really work out so well for me. My college made us fill out surveys to determine our living and roommate situations. I said that I like things quiet and calm and neat, mostly because I didn't want some crazy party girl slut roommate always coming in at 3 am waking me up. The people over in Residence Life apparently took this as me basically being a nerdy shut-in and so I got placed in a dorm that the year before had been the "Quiet Dorm". It was all the way on the back end of campus. Most people I met had never even heard of it and asked if it was a real dorm. The building was an old house with U-shaped floors, separated single sex with girls on floors 1, 2 & 4 and guys on 3 & 5.
Half the people in my building went home on the weekends, so it was hard to mingle. This left me with little options other than the handful of people I had met at Orientation. Which meant that it was hard to make friends with people who were barely ever around, or to make new friends with people who weren't even sure you actually lived on campus. I started to notice that it was really hard for me to approach people. I guess I was always kind of shy growing up, until people really tried to get to know me. I didn't understand why I couldn't just go up and say "Hey, what's up?" and BOOM! Insta-Friend! I thought I was a pretty cool chick. I was definitely a nice person. And I liked to go out and have fun just like everyone else. So why couldn't I make friends?
I would get kind of a tingle in my nose thinking about social interaction. My heart would start to race a little. And I would feel like I was about to cry. I had social anxiety disorder. When I transferred schools and moved back home, I started to have increased anxiety and panicky episodes. I went to the doctor and she prescribed me Paroxetine (Paxil) and that began to help me a little bit. But I had already formed a big social group by becoming part of a big subculture: Raves. Raves were fun, giant parties with loud music and lots of people under the influence so it was easy to talk to people and make friends. (Especially if you were under the influence yourself sometimes as well.) I joined an internet forum for Ravers as well and began to meet many "friends" that way as well. I also enjoyed moderate Celebrity status as at every party, I wore a pair of Bunny ears and was instantly recognizable and lovable.
The Paxil worked pretty good for a while. I felt more confident. I was making friends. I was being more assertive. I had a good relationship and a good job. I wasn't feeling anymore anxiety. So I decided I didn't need to take it anymore. The medication had worked, right?
Cut to a few years later. I began dating a guy who treated me like shit. He caused me a great deal of stress and duress through his mannerisms, both towards me and in his everyday life. I started cutting myself off from these new friends I had made because I put myself in this bubble where it was just him. I was afraid of him and what he would do to me, and the hatred he had for my friends and family and the threats he would make against them. And the fool that I was, I loved him and didn't want to lose him. So I lost everyone else. And I lost myself in the process. I began having the anxiety attacks again. I was losing ground and didn't know how to fix it. I went back to the doctor again and she prescribed me Lexapro. The anxiety stopped, but the torture in my relationship continued.
I had burned so many bridges, it was hard to get my life back. I had been living with this animal and when we broke up, I had to move in with my parents who had moved almost an hour & 1/2 from where I grew up. It was the middle of nowhere and I was now 24 years old. It was going to be even harder to make friends. My mom suggested I get a part-time job. That worked for a bit. I stopped taking my medication again because I hated feeling mechanical and medicated. I made some friends and hung out a bit, but they weren't the kind of friends I was looking for. The area I was living in was very suburban and close knit, so it was very much like High School part 2. (Especially when you had 20 somethings hanging out with 16 year olds and drinking with them on the beach at night.) That just wasn't for me, so I cut them off too. Plus, I had finally found an out from this middle of nowhere place: a new job, a new city, a chance for a new life.
I moved to Philadelphia in the Summer of 2009. It was supposed to be my chance to start over. Make new friends, explore new places. (It was also supposed to be a chance for me to Love again, but that is a post to be saved for a later date.) Unfortunately, hanging out with Gay men (my best friend and his friends) didn't really give me much chance to explore my options. The one coworker close to my age in my office was married. Strike 2. And the fact that my love life imploded coupled with a depressingly long and blizzardy Philadelphia winter sunk me into a deep 5 month long depression.
With the warm weather here now, it should have put me in a better mood, but the fact remains: I am 26 years old and I don't know how to make friends. Everyone I meet is married, divorced, engaged, gay or in a relationship. I am afraid of marriage. I am wary of dating. I am afraid to trust and let people get close to me because I have been burned a lot recently. Where do you go to meet people and make friends when you are 20-something? And how do you go up to random strangers and make conversation without seeming like a complete Asperger's/Socially awkward weirdo?
As much of a nice and fun person I (like to think I) am, I wonder - Why would anyone want to be my friend? I don't really bring much to the table. My life is not exciting. I don't have a boyfriend. No siblings. I am not close with my family. And so I try to avoid social situations in which I have to talk about myself or my personal life. I don't really interact with others at my office because I hate small talk and don't really care about asking people how their weekends were or about their families because those are not people I'm interested in being friends with and do not like being friendly for the sake of being friendly. (Even though that is probably something I should be doing to develop my social skills to begin with, and maybe that is the problem.)
Should I blame my parents for never fostering these types of social skills in me? Maybe. Should I blame my ex for ruining my ability to trust and interact with other human beings? More than likely. My anxiety is slowly creeping back. Thinking about even being in a situation to meet people makes me uncomfortable and causes me stress and makes me cry. I do not want to medicate myself anymore. I want to be free of this. To be normal. To have fun and be social and to not have to use the Internet to make friends. (Even though some of the most interesting and awesome people I have met as of late have been from the Internet, and are even cooler in person, but unfortunately live 9000 miles away.)
I live alone in a strange city and have no friends close by or siblings or pets.
I am an only child.
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