Turned Tables?

My best guy friend Porter has a friend, Dirk, who has become a part of our core group over the last couple of years. So we have developed a friendship as well. Nothing out of the ordinary. He's offered career advice and what not, and I'm pretty sure until recently he thought I was an out of control wild child. I've asked him to lunch, not thinking it was anything but platonic.

But then a few times he asked what I was doing and to hang out. Uh oh. Was he crushing on me and thinking my touchy nature meant I was flirting? Or just desperate for a new friend who was chatty and revealed her entire life story on one train ride? Not sure. He often made half-serious self-depreciating remarks and still whined over his ex-girlfriend a year later.

Seraphina tried to encourage me to go out with him. I was completely disturbed by this idea. Not only was he freakishly nerdy, he was very much like my dad. Some say this is a good thing. The similarities were not attractive. Especially since their wardrobes were almost exactly the same despite a thirty year age gap. And when I was bringing up all the reasons why I would NEVER date Dirk, Seraphina said "well, he doesn't like to go out".

DING, DING, DING! If that's not a red flag, then I don't know what is. Granted I'm not trying to date someone as crazy as I am (that would be toxic) but Dirk is the guy who sits in the corner alone! And cries over an ex? Even worse. It's just crazy to me that this one time a guy is maybe interested, and actually knows me for ME...Not the crazy girl at the bar, he's an utter disaster. No self esteem and an emo? No thanks.

Life Lessons

On a whim, I decided to order some dating advice books from Amazon.com. While I frequent the library, I am far too ashamed to check out Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man. I will keep y'all posted as to what tips these genius authors have to offer.

Jekyll & Hyde

So after my blackout hookup (does it qualify as a hook up?) with Cornell and thinking back on past situations that were not dissimilar, I have concluded that I am a drunk slut.

No, but really. Sober I am a good girl who can say no with conviction no matter how badly I'd like to get in a boy's pants. I'm smart, polite and even rather articulate. But drunk me lacks all control and logic, and is more often than not freakishly horny.

Bad? Not for the guys on the recieving end. But for me, the next morning is always a painful puzzle. I am missing sections and piecing together how one thing led to another and why my clothes are on the floor rather than my body. In college, I found this perfectly acceptable. But now, a year and a half after recieving that life-altering diploma, I am starting to lose respect for myself. While these hookups now occur once every few months, when I find an occasion worthy of drinking to forget, I am still bothered by the mere thought of it happening again. But yet, it always does. Sober me freaks out about what a horrible impression I've made and how publicly embarassing I probably acted. Nevermind the whole one-night-standish-thing: the being "easy". Too much liquid courage and all shame is out the door. I'd like to think others involved can separate these two me's from each other, but I know this is not the case. I'm just hoping that perhaps the new year will mean the end of my blackout hookups; that I've learned my lesson and I can start fresh. Unfortunately, there are a few too many guys who experienced me blackout and while I don't remember a thing, I'm sure they always will.

The Aftermath

I have already concluded that I crush too hard. Over the weekend after I texted Cornell (and his responses were normal), I wasn't feeling so full of regret. But now I keep thinking that I screwed it all up. I got drunk and publicly assaulted the kid, and gave most everything up the first time we hung out alone. I figure he won't be calling. I mean, why would he?

Obviously I can't turn back time. And had I not thought he were a decent guy, I wouldn't care. But I tried and then I messed up and I guess now I just have to deal with it. And try not to screw it up again when someone new comes along.

Minor Vindication?

I went out with Seraphina and her ex-but-current boyfriend last night, to the same place where Middlebury, Cornell and I had a snack and a shot. Figuring it couldn't hurt, I asked the waiter if perhaps a black velvet blazer had been left behind a couple nights before?

A moment later he appeared, a vision in an apron, toting my lost jacket.

So obviously I had to text Cornell to inform him.

He responded right away and we kept the convo short. But of course, he was just so damn sweet again. Perhaps I confuse his nice-ness with his liking me, I don't know. But now that my jacket has miraculously appeared (and Cornell acted normal via text), I feel slightly less filled with regret. Obviously, the post cocktail party behavior was not my best. But I am no longer out a hundred bucks, and I didn't have to feel like a pscyho when texting Cornell. Granted, I still hope he calls (he won't). And even if he still has my panties, I declare it his loss.

Cliche of the Day

Sometimes classy girls do unclassy things.

Just had to remind myself.

Oops, I Did It AGAIN

So, I acted as Cornell's plus one at this little cocktail party. Things went well: I looked great, my hair turned out surprisingly perfect, and he gave me a huge hug at the door when I arrived. And he was once again, wonderfully complementry and funny, as I expected. First stop: the bar. Strangely enough, they decided to serve the cocktails in giant glasses. I remained appropriate, calm, and sober for the duration of the party. But my lack of dinner and four enormous cocktails left me feeling pretty good when Cornell, a fellow coworker and I decided to take the party elsewhere.

We went to a restaurant, where Cornell and I split an appetizer. The boys insisted I have another cocktail, which I somewhat reluctantly agreed to. The other guy, Middlebury, decided it would be a great idea to order shots. Not to appear weak, I took mine like the champ I always think I am. The guys paid the bill and we went on to our next location.

This is where things get fuzzy.

All I can really remember is being in the back area of a bar I frequent regularly. Middlebury was floating around, I stood with Cornell. The next thing I remember is pulling him towards me by his tie and essentially raping him at the bar. Well, maybe not rape. I don't recall him protesting. But quite the classy move on my part. I was hoping my days of sloppy public makeouts were over. Wrong per usual.

Next thing I know, I'm naked and in his bed. We didn't have sex, but we (must have) messed around. I do remember him telling me I was hot on at least one occassion. And I think I tried calling him out on being a player, and he told me that was not true. Oh, the lines I fall for.

Eventually we passed out together, me obviously in no shape to drive home.

I awoke the next morning right around dawn, close to Cornell and needing the bathroom. I got up to go but I figured it was too early to leave so after I flushed, I got back in bed. Unfortunately, I couldn't sleep. Cornell turned over and spooned me for a while, but once he moved further away (and I saw the sun was coming up over the buildings outside), I crawled out of bed. I tried to be sneaky and not wake him, hoping to avoid an awkward goodbye.

My plan failed. Surprise!

I looked around and tried to gather my things, but I could not locate the jacket I had worn to the cocktail party over my dress. Speaking of dress, where was that? I spotted it across the room on the floor. My tights were strewn on a chair, and my coat was carelessly thrown on the couch. Shoes were easy to locate. But I still couldn't find that jacket. Cornell woke up and asked me if I was leaving.

Duh.

I told him about my missing jacket and he told me to turn on the lights. I did, but my jacket remained elusive. As did my black lace boyshorts. I told him I just had to go but he told me to take my shit with me. I told him this jacket was not find-able and that perhaps it was at the bar. He reminded me that I was pretty drunk the night before. Ouch? I threw my coat on, said see ya later (there's that awkward good-bye), and let the door slam behind me.

I was traumatized to be missing this jacket, since I had purchased it only a few days before. I prayed all of the next day for a text that it was under his couch or behind his bed, but none came. I called the bar before making a move. No jacket there. Finally, a little more than 24 hours after leaving his apartment, I inquired. No jacket at his place either. Evidently I threw $98 and my dignity away at the bar. Cornell was nice about it, always great at covering up his jerk-dom. I also told him that the other 'thing' I had left (panties), I wasn't concerned about. He'd figured. Thank goodness I at least wore sexy underwear.

So that was that. I did it again. I got blackout drunk and hooked up with a guy. But this one I actually LIKE(D) and would have definitely TRIED to play hard to get with. That is, had I had 5 fewer cocktails. WHYYY do I always do this to myself? Get wasted, aggressive, and he now probably thinks I am a whore. Which for all I know, he thought before anyway. But he just acts like such a sweetheart. He is still a frat guy, I suppose. And he did go MIA for an entire month. At least I have comfort in the fact that I most likely will never see him again, unless he initiates contact. Of course I am hoping he will, forgiving my drunken antics and for some reason wanting to hang out with me (and my apparently hot self) again. I want to think he actually might like me? As a friend? Piece of ass? Even more unlikely, given the whole disappearing act. I guess my worst fear has come true, and he is in fact, just like that guy who dropped off the face of the earth after getting (at least some of) what he wanted.

Second Time Around

Recently, I went to the city to celebrate Karlene's birthday, along with 20 or so of our closest college friends. Among those was a frat boy who I'd once had a fling with. Not exactly a fling. I had one of those weird nerdy-crushes on him and eventually one night we ended up drunk and in my dorm room. Clothes came off and one thing led to another.

Unfortunately this frat boy, let's call him...iBanker, had too much jungle juice and things just weren't happening for him. I tried to do what I could, but whiskey really had his dick. I don't exactly recall how the night ended. He may have slept over or he may have fled from embarassment. But, not surprisingly, he was often rather awkward when we ran into each other around campus.

But anyway, here he was at Karlene's big 2-3. Janelle didn't go to college with us, so she wanted the scoop on the guys in attendance. She commented on iBanker and I informed her that I had been there, done that. I looked around and tried to set my sights elsewhere.

This attempt failed and after a few drinks, I decided that iBanker deserved another shot. My friend Matilda also said rumor was he was well endowed. And I may or may not have been attracted to his shiny watch and well, title as an iBanker. So I put on my game face, and a few minutes later he was buying me a drink at the bar. Shortly after that, we were making out on the dance floor.

Whoops?

Then I was, alwasys easily persuaded, in a cab en route to his apartment, leaving Janelle and Korey to fend for themselves (sorry, girls). We chatted and smooched and I think we may have even held hands. He waved hello to his doorman and up to his apartment we went.

And OhMyGod was the second time better. We moved around, messed around, and I can in fact confirm Matilda's rumor.

I awoke the next morning, confused about my whereabouts until seeing iBanker's fraternity paddle. He wasn't in bed, so I gathered my things from the nightstand (read: earrings, thong, cell phone) and put my FMP's back on, preparing for the walk of shame. When I stood, it felt as though I had pulled a muscle in my hip area. Successful night? I think so.

iBanker was reading in his living room, and I'm sure it was something far beyond my scope of intelligence. He said he didn't want to wake me up and got up to peck me good-bye. I shut the door to the apartment, and slightly limped toward the elevator. Jacketless in November and wearing snakeskin shoes, I reluctanctly said good morning to the doormen (so much for sneaking out). But as I hid my face and walked to get a cab, I couldn't help but be happy it was better the second time around.

The Flashback

Remember that frat guy from school, who confessed his love to me? We would chat sometimes, and had amazing chemistry. He was a master of the hot and cold act. Then when I finally let him in and we slept together, he disappeared all together. Just keep that in your mind as you read ahead.

My temp gig ended a little over a month ago. On my last day, Cornell seemed to be sad I was leaving, texting across the office and popping over more often than normal. He said we should definitely get together, etc. So the following week, no longer working there, I boldly made a move and texted first. He responded with his normal wit and once again, suggested we meet up for a drink. I obviously agreed, and that was it.

Three weeks go by. And no word from Cornell, so I deleted all of our past texts along with his contact information so I would not be tempted to try again. And then, out of the blue he texted me, asking me how I was doing. This occurred on a Tuesday. Coincidentally, the company is having a cocktail party on Thursday. I had heard through the grapevine that he was bringing a guest, and I had decided I would not. Because of this, I was prepared for a rather awkward hello and an introduction to a girlfriend or something equally awful. So the texting went on a bit, he apologized for being out of touch with some lame excuse. I continued to delay and then finally he dropped a bomb. He said he was going to ask me to be his +1 to the cocktail party, but heard I was already going.

HUH? So I waited a couple hours and said I could act as his +1. He said something back but I stopped texting.

So he's popped back up in my life. Why? I'm not sure. My head tells me not to be excited, but I just can't help but to remember our effortless flirtation. My work pal was convinced something was going on between us, and while there was nothing, we concluded together that he's probably a bit of a player anyway. I'm definitely glad we can avoid an awkward encounter, but his disappearing act has me flashing back to that frat boy who so stereotypically got what he wanted and was never seen or heard from again.

You're Hot Then You're Cold...

Cornell is probably one of the most confusing male specimens I have ever encountered.

Well, maybe not encountered. But definitely the most confusing one I have actually sort of, well...Liked. There, I admitted it. He does something to me. When he walks over to my desk, I can't help but smile. I get excited and animated and even giggly when we interact. And I could just sit and chat with him about nothing forever...Though he tends to make an escape. Maybe it's because he's smart, funny and attractive. And seems to want to get to know me, even asking me my favorite candy just yesterday.

But then, he cools off again. What the hell? Maybe it's just so blatantly obvious I want him that I scare him off. I just really can't help it. I want to hang out with him. Alone. I don't understand, though, why one week he is asking me to hang out and the next he is barely saying good morning. He goes from complimentary to non-existent in mere days.

WHY!?

He's said it himself that he's fickle. Is that it? Maybe he's busy? Doubt it. Another girl? More likely. Freaked out we worked together? Plausible. He did say once he never knows whether or not to take me seriously... So perhaps my obvious flirtations are mistaken for jokes. I really have no clue. And every guy I've turned to for advice provides no conclusive answers. I want to say to myself, "TSF, He's Just Not That Into You" but then he just texts me again with something adorable and I can't help but think that isn't the case.

Korey knows about essentially every conversation we've had and every text sent and recieved. And she is also confused. But then again, has had her own experience with the hot and cold male. What's with that? I can totally get a guy not feeling like talking one day or something. But one day you're offering gifts and the next can't even answer my text? Katy Perry, I totally feel you. And could listen to "Hot & Cold" for days on end.

Flattery Will Get You Everywhere?

As you may have noticed from some past entries, I tend to fall for lines pretty easily. Tell me I'm hot? I'll let you buy me a drink. Pretty? I'll most likely make out with you. Beautiful? Let's go somewhere private. Anything even more flattering? Well, let's just say we can stay in that private area. If I've had enough to drink, of course.

But why do I fall for these lines?

I mean, I often find myself thinking in the mirror that I'm pretty attractive overall. I can no longer blame my love handles for my singledom. At the very least, they are not the only reason. So then why is it when I guy I am otherwise NOT interested in flatters me with complete and utter BS, I completely melt? I mean, we all love a complement now and then. But even when I consciously know they are likely insincere, I still manage to hang on every word.

This weekend, I probably got myself in trouble by making out with a frat boy at the bar. He's dated/hooked up with a few too many girls in my (former) sorority. None currently, but still, not my brightest moment. And I was sober (amazingly so). I at first was great at resisting. No, I will not make out with you. No, no, sir. You had your shot. Keep dreaming.

But then he started feeding me lines.

And I KNEW they were lines, so I called him out.

But persist he did.

Ugh.

He just had to reel me in with the "beautiful", damnit.

This is not to say that a calling me a goddess is a surefire way to get me in bed. But doing so can certainly push me over the edge if I'm teetering.

The Un-Answerable Question

Korey and I, fellow alums, and about 50 of our sorority sisters and favorite fraternity brothers, celebrated our college's homecoming over the weekend. We ended up at a house party, complete with red cups, beer pong, and kegstands. And of course, the usual catch-up conversations.

Korey and I were talking to a former frat boy who once dated a girl in our sorority. He was telling us about his life, his new girlfriend, and trying to explain to us his fondness for philosophy. This was all fine and dandy until he asked us both a question neither of us would care to discuss.

Philosopher Frat Boy: Boyfriend?
TSF: Nope.
PFB: Why not?

WHY NOT? As if I have somehow taken myself out of the dating pool because I cannot find a suitable suitor. Please. I attributed my singledom to laziness, which in all honesty is a partial reason. He agreed and said that being a boyfriend/girlfriend does in fact, require a lot of 'work'. And I haven't the time or the state of mind to devote to a relationship right now. But as always, for the right person I might be willing. Anyway.

When asked the same question, Korey said her singledom was not by choice and that some things just need time. I joked with PFB that we are both too pretty, to which I got a strange look and a forced laugh. No matter.

After Korey and I discussed the weekend in great detail, I could not help but to keep pondering this question. Belinda found it strange that a twenty-something guy would ask this question, and upon my own over-analysis, I agreed. But I still could not help thinking that my answer, while the best nonsensical thing I could think of, was not entirely true or accurate. Meeting someone is problem, as is getting them to actually commit. My two-week track record also presents a roadblock. Or maybe I just wouldn't know what to do, since I have a grave paranoia about being percieved as an over-texter or a pest. Lately, I've been so stressed I'm not even sure I'd want to date me. And I am now 99% sure it is not because I'm not physically attractive. That part just continues to improve while my emotions are toyed with and my stress level mounts. Think that would have been a better answer for the Philosopher Frat Boy?

Me either.

The Demotion

Remember Cornell? My work crush? After we hung out a couple times (in group settings) he cooled off. Majorly. Instead of him inviting me places and sending me texts for no reason, I was thinking of excuses to text him or send him a quick e-mail across the office. He'd come over to my desk to say hi or give me a meaningless task to lighten his workload. And when I did contact him first, he was responsive and even complimentary sometimes. But still, I was making the first move by sending the first text or e-mail.

Essentially, this has been a gradual slow-down over the last few weeks, and at first I was enjoying his little hard-to get game. Or made excuses for him. Maybe he was busy at work (which I didn't notice) Or that he was freaked out that we worked together and didn't want to get in too deep.

Clearly I was crushing hard as usual.

But lately, since he's cooled off, so have I. I am realizing that if he's not that into me, he's not that into me. He may have found someone else who resembles his celebrity crush, Taylor Swift. Or perhaps finding out during a game of Never Have I Ever that I sniffed some white powder in college was too much for him. Not sure, but I am (trying not to) lose sleep over it.

I thought maybe there was still a shot. My work here is coming to a close and things will either fizzle and all will be forgotten or he will suddenly reappear. Right? Doubt it.

Last week, before leaving for the weekend he came into the copy room and said, "Bye, Dude".

Dude? Ok, maybe it was an affectionate nickname or soemthing. And it was nice that he came to say bye, right? Actions speak louder than words?

But then yesterday, I was telling him about the awful speeding ticket incident I had over the weekend. And he said, Slow Down, _____. And called me by my last name.

My thoughts? Demotion. To last name. This can only mean that I am no longer an object of desire for him. Even my best guy friends don't call me by my last name and I'm pretty sure they're not looking to get in my pants. So am I special to this dear work boy Cornell? My instincts tell me nope, that I'm just another friendly coworker.

The Cold(ish) Shoulder

Yesterday I randomly texted someone I had "talked to" for a couple weeks over the summer. We got along really well and definitely have undeniable chemistry. But then he kind of ...disappeared for a while and needless to say I was hurt. But I often see him around, at the gym or the grocery store, and I haven't been overly friendly but we chat. He recently bought a house so I've told him I want to see it and what not but otherwise there have been no talks of getting together.

Surprisingly, yesterday he immediately responded to my text and asked if I had plans later that night. I said I was going to the gym but otherwise available and he said he would also be at the gym (not surprising) but would be down to get dinner after. And that he'd talk to me about it at the gym.

I obviously consulted Belinda and Seraphina for advice, and both of them suggested I blow him off after him blowing me off months before. But Korey, always on the same page as me, was just as excited about this possible rekindling. Just no funny business.

So when the guy approached me mid-run on the treadmill, I agreed to dinner later that night. He called a few minutes before I was to meet him and off we went.

He greeted me with a kiss on the lips (uh oh?) and we went to grab burgers and beer. Conversation flowed easily as usual and we caught up. Since I did not want to hook up with him, I laughed when he suggested we go up to his empty office and he said that it'd be hot. I was hoping he'd get the hint, and I think he did. He grabbed my foot under the table when we were getting ready to go, and refused to let me pick up any part of the bill. I thanked him for dinner and he thanked me for hanging out with him. On our way to the car, I had my arms crossed to keep me warm and he started putting his hand around my waist then jokingly apologized. Since he was such a jerk before, I didn't want to give him the idea that I'd be hooking up with him that night. But maybe this move was a bit too cold? I'm not sure. I didn't purposely want to send out a "HAND'S OFF" signal, but I know the moment I let him in I would just let him...well, do whatever he wanted. And I couldn't let that happen. At least not yet.

So we drove back to his new house and he asked if I wanted the tour. I looked at my watch and it was 10:04 PM. I refused the tour, knowing what would happen if we went inside. He said I didn't have to, which I found surprisingly nice. Then he drove me back around the block to my car.

The good-bye was semi-awkward, probably because I had given him a mildly cold shoulder. I couldn't help it, really. But we didn't hug or kiss (I sure didn't initiate) and I said I'd talk to him soon. I wonder now if I was too cold or if my resistance was warranted. I guess I'll thank him again at the gym and see what happens.

The Ass Kissers

My friend Janice has noticed a trend among a few of the guys she has recently hooked up with.

They love to kiss her ass. And I don't mean by flattering or complimenting her. They literally enjoy kissing her bum.

The first of the ass kissers was also a beggar. Poor Janice ended up stuck in the same bed as him after a house party, where he begged and pleaded for her to hook up with him. Having very little physical attraction to him and having lost her buzz long before, she refused. He continued to plead and she finally figured she'd make out with him since there'd be no harm done. He begged to touch her more so she allowed him to give her a massage. At some point in the evening, he kissed her ass. So, surprised Janice asked "Did you just kiss my ass?" and laughed at the thought.

Oddly enough, this house party boy is an apparent trendsetter. Following the first one, two more guys have kissed Janice's ass mid-hookup. And she asks the same question each time, followed by a laugh because the idea of a literal ass kissing seems so absurd. But alas, perhaps this is irony? Or does her ass just have a new following? She's thankful she's kept in shape. And wonders if the next guy who comes in contact with her ass will kiss it as well.

The Elevator Ride

I work in a 27 floor office building. It's called "The ___ Financial Center" and most of the offices are either financial or law related. During a bomb scare, I once saw lots of sexy men in suits in the stairwell. But never again did I notice them in the lobby.

Today I went downstairs to the deli to grab breakfast. While waiting for the elevator, a rather attractive young man made eye contact and smiled. So I did the same and he said good morning.

We had a rather awkward back and forth "How are you? Good thanks, how are you?" until I stopped that by asking if he was happy it was Friday. We chatted about our upcoming weekend plans until I got off at my floor. He was getting off one floor above, which I believe is where Merrill Lynch offices are.

While we didn't exchange phone numbers or even first names, it was a nice boost to my morning. Perhaps I'll just start riding the elevator at lunch and see if I spy another hottie in a suit.

The Intellectual Pothead

Remember my crazy mom who tries to set me up with coworkers' children? Well, about a year ago she started a new job and the woman who hired her decided it'd be a great idea to set me up with her son. Let's call him Zane. He soon after friended me on Facebook, appeared normal, and we'd occasionally Facebook chat or text but could never find time to meet up.

Friday after work, I was full of energy per usual and rearing to go out. Unfortunately, Porter was gone for the weekend and Seraphina was not up for an adventure, leaving me on my own. Zane and I had chatted via Facebook (as usual) earlier that week and he was also home until further notice, leaving both of us bored and him very much unemployed. So, I decided since I'd be home watching reruns of Friends if I wasn't proactive, I decided to see what Zane was doing. Lucky for me, he responded immediately and asked me if I was feeling adventurous and wanted to go to the fair in his town. I thought this could be an interesting first meeting, so we decided to go for it.

I arrived at his house, unsure of what to expect. He was not as attractive as he appeared in Facebook photos but then again, neither am I. We got in the car and started chatting. He was quite talkative so there were no awkward moments. He enjoyed using words I had probably only seen in the SAT analogies section. Fortunately I was able to at least sort-of keep up and pulled out a few vocab words of my own. Aside from that, I found out he doesn't like to drink much and much prefers smoking. So instead of heading straight to the fair, he asked if I was interested in smoking a bowl. I obliged.

Zane and I took a driving tour on his usual smoking route and I learned even more about him. The one problem was, the more hits I took (I believe there were 3 total) the dumber I seemed to become. He kept talking as before, but I was left slightly confused and somewhat unresponsive. I also wanted to hurry up and get to the fair so I could possibly purchase some sort of snack.

Parking at the fair proved to be difficult so we decided to grab a couple beers at a local dive instead. En route, he asked what type of music I liked and correctly guessed it was dancey-pop. His radio was playing all sorts of stuff I had never heard before, and wouldn't care to listen to again. He also got rather deep, talking about a friend who'd recently passed in a boating accident and how he reacts in crisis. He explained to me that he freaks out over little things but believes he would make an excellent military strategist. Huh? I would likely have trouble getting this deep while not high and the utter lack of any ability to process thought really left me dumbfounded. So I let him go on until we arrived at the mostly-empty bar.

Darts proved to be another challenge. Luckily I had played before (all of twice) so I was not at a complete loss. I did find him chatting still and asking me to pick song on the digital jukebox (I was embarassed and pertrubed about his calling me out on my musical tastes, so I pretended I had no current favorites and let him choose). I drank my beers (paid for by him, though not as tasty as a snack would have been) and threw darts everywhere but the dart board. My darts seemed to have a magnetic attraction to the 18. Irrelevent. Though I also stupidly found myself standing in his way of shooting darts (without realizing) and taking the darts from him when it was not my turn. Was this the weed or merely the fact that I was uninterested in this bar game? Either way, I was getting a bit antsy (and sleepy) and so I tried to wrap it up. He drove me to my car and even suggested we try going to the fair the following night. Sure, why not.

Anyway, it was not an utter failure as one would expect from being set up by Mom. But I'm not sure there was chemistry. A friendship could possibly form if I were willing to play darts in an empty bar or hang out with his townies talking about... God knows what. I guess I'll know who to call if I'm ever in the mood to smoke. But his deep thinking made me feel a bit shallow and like a cliche girl. Which I am totally not. Right?

Platonic Or...?

Since I am grossly overanalytical (and have too much spare time), I've recently been thinking about how I hang out with a lot of guys. Unfortunately, I do not mean romantically. I just have guy friends around here who are always down to party. Luckily, I am not interested in pursuing any of them and I'm 99% sure they aren't interested in me either. I just fear that my frequent hanging out with just the guys is making me one of them.

Don't get me wrong here. I am extremely femenine, dressed to the nines as often as possible. My hair is halfway down my back and I try to rarely be caught without makeup. But I love to have a good time and I'm pretty sarcastic... and I've heard I'm also funny. But that's just me. Do I have to tone it down in order to be liked in a nonplatonic way?

I ask this question because at my new-ish (ok, I'm 5 weeks into it) job, I've developed a flirtation with a coworker. We don't work directly together, but in an office of only about 15 people. I invited him and the other guys to my birthday celebration but none attended, though one, let's call him Cornell, did ask what was going on and texted me etc etc. I thought nothing of it (and had a crush on another guy in the office) until I got a text at 11:30 on a weeknight essentially saying hello. We went back and forth a bit but I eventually passed out. The next day we chatted a bit and I explained to him that my normal happy hour friend was going out of town. And he texted me a few hours after work asking if I was in the market for a replacement drinking buddy. So we made plans to hang out the following night.

I worked late that night and had not heard from him by 7. I was getting worried and I was even tempted to text him to see what's up. Luckily this idea was vetoed by my trusty advisors, Freida and her man-friend. Anyways, Cornell came through and we decided (based on a chat the evening before) that'd we'd go for margaritas. He was with his friends and I unfortunately, lacking enough female friends within a 15-mile radius, begged Seraphina to accompany me. She did, thank God. We met up with Cornell and his three friends and had some margaritas and a laugh. We stayed out until the bar closed and before I even dropped Seraphina off, I had a text from Cornell saying he had a great time. We once again texted back and forth until I passed out.

The thing is, we don't interact that much at work. And it seems we're often talking about partying. I mean, that can't be the only hobby we have in common. Right? One would think. But because I feel like since the work week begun, I've been making the effort. I'm not really sure what to think. I'm sure he's a bit hesitant since we "work together" but I'm done with this little temp gig in another 5 weeks. I just don't know. But I just don't want Cornell to think I'm just a friend.

Effort

Today I asked my friend for advice on where I go wrong with guys. He said since he doesn't see me in relationships or with guys that it'd be a hard question for him to answer. And that he isn't necessarily the best person to ask. I tried to describe a bit to him. I told him that I usually don't text first. I am responsive, and with this particular guy he was normally first to make contact. He'd call and I'd call back.

Oddly enough my friend told me he prefers if girls make an effort at least 30% of the time. I initated a text now and again. But I didn't ask him to hang out. Perhaps it's my poor attempt at playing hard to get or a subconscious way of protecting myself from rejection. But isn't a little hard to get a good thing? I don't want to be that annoying needy girl. How do I find the happy medium? More effort or less?

The Slumber Party

I recently went out in the city with a few of the girls. We were celebrating Rhonda's birthday but the night wasn't turning out to be anything special. Korey, her friend and I wandered over to a different bar than the rest of the crew. Not long after ordering a drink did a young adult male approach us.

This kid, let's call him Rochester, informed us that the day before was his birthday. And in celebration of that, he'd buy us shots. He ordered Jagerbombs for me and the girls and we bedrungingly took them. Though since I was a bit too sober for my liking, I accepted the free drink with open arms.

Somehow Rochester and I started chatting, and I found out we knew someone in common. Of course he went to high school with a kid I knew in college. Korey and friend returned to the bar next door to Rhonda and the rest of the crew, leaving me alone with Rochester. It turns out he works at JP Morgan and actually seemed quite interested in what I had to say. Before I knew it he was asking me to continue this conversation at his apartment. I questioned this, and tried calling Janelle for advice. Unfortunately Janelle had passed out by this point and therefore I could not go sleep at her apartment. And I didn't really feel like trekking to the other side of the planet where Korey and Rhonda were staying.

Rochester seemed to be my best bet. So I forewarned him there would be no funny business and we got into a cab. Had he not known a mutual acaquaitance from college, I definitely would have refused. But he didn't seem sketchy, so off I went.

His apartment was nice and conversation flowed easily. We joked about sleeping on opposite sides of the bed. There were kisses exchanged here and there but I did not allow him to go so far as to even lift up my dress. I told him I was not "that girl from the bar" and that I never go home with strangers. He assured me that he rarely took girls home, had recently broken up with his girlfriend, and that he did not view me as "that girl" at all. We chatted and spooned until dawn began to break, and then passed out for two hours or so. I got up early to leave and Rochester seemed disappointed. He asked for my phone number and I of course, gave it to him but joked that I doubted I'd hear from him.

To my surprise I got a text the next day about what a great time he'd had, and we made plans to meet up the following weekend. Unfortunately, plans fell through and we did not see each other. He called me late night to possibly meet up, and even texted me the next day expressing his disappointment that we couldn't. But I am still stunned by how nice and respectful he was. Though he hasn't contacted me in over a week, I wonder if I should make the first move to say hello. After all, he was nice enough to respect my shot at being prude and have an innocent sleepover. But maybe it's been too long. Once again, I am left confused.

The Graphic Tee

I occassionally help out at my uncle's store and work with my cousin Frieda. I often talk about the interesting characters that come in while I'm there. And one time Porter asked me once if I ever got hit on while working. I had not, and I wasn't so disappointed because normally the crowd is a mix of older people who aren't particularly attractive. So this one morning I decided to wear my "Everyone Loves An Italian Girl" t-shirt in hopes of someone commenting.

There was a 6'2ish, gorgeous tan man with aviators and a red t-shirt wandering through the store. But he went outside and I figured he would be back at some point in the future.

I was working the cash register and had a steady line of customers. I had forgotten about the gorgeous tan man...Until the line died down and he popped up at my register! So I charged him for his giant bottle of water and...he said, "Nice Shirt".

AHH!

So I said thank you. But rather than change the subject, reciprocate the complement, or say anything flirtatious, I made a complete fool of myself. I went on about how Frieda is my cousin and gave me the shirt. So he then asked if we were all Italian, and I said how Frieda was but that my dad was half. So he asked what the other half was but I somehow got distracted with giving him his change (or something) and didn't get the question. And didn't answer. So he said "American?" and I said he was pretty American. Right after saying how my family was Italian American. There was a pause, and he looked at me confused. He then started to walk away from the register, clearly weirded out by my schpiel. I also failed to ask him ANYTHING about himself. And the door was wide open to at least ask him his ethnic background.

Epic fail.

Good GOD. What was going through my head? Clearly being so chatty and awkward was the result of a few too many shots of espresso in my latte. But the shirt worked and I totally RUINED the moment. I mean really, I couldn't have made it more awkward. And he couldn't have been hotter! Granted, I was completely caught off guard. Maybe even nervous because he was damn sexy! I just am appalled that I failed so miserably and ruined what could have been a beautiful cashier-customer flirtation.

Frieda was off that day, so I told her all about this sexual man I encountered. And she thinks she knows him and assured me that he's slightly awkward as well. This was mildly reassuring but did not change the fact that I am apparently incapable of being flirty while... Sober? Overcaffienated? Not dressed up? I don't know. But I need to seriously work on this.

The Name Game: The Saga Continues

As you may recall, I had a one night stand with Joanie's boyfriend's friend from home. At least, I thought it was a one night stand. Until I saw this character the next day (when he called me the wrong name) and then received a phone call from Joanie which he apparently initiated.

Joanie and her boyfriend came back to the East Coast from LA to vist his family for a bit. And they obviously hung out with the Non-One Night Stand.

Apparently after the regular hellos, the first question Non-One Night Stand asked Joanie was how I was. What I was up to, has she talked to me recently, etc. Strange. What's even stranger is that apparently that wasn't it. Non-One Night Stand continued to ask Joanie about me, telling her about how he pokes me on Facebook. Oh, and how he often parouses my profile. I guess Joanie said something about how I have been getting better looking. And Non-One Night Stand said that "She's always been beautiful". He even told Joanie to invite me somewhere he was going.

Time out.

This kid who somehow managed to get me in bed after, say...9 beers and beating him at bowling is now asking about me? Over a year and a half later? And thinks I have always been beautiful? We have met once, and I apparently was not memorable after our one night affair. At least my name wasn't. But what the hell. He tells my friend and former roommate how he pokes me on Facebook? Is this his attempt to get in touch and demonstrate his alleged affection?

This Non-One Night Stand is turning into the never-ending story.

The Fighter

Korey and I recently visited our friend Dario, who's summering in a touristy town. We spent the day at the beach, tanning and frolicking. We got back to Dario's apartment and Korey and I decided this, as our second night out, would be our big one. So Korey put on a new shirt-worn-as-a-dress (sress)and I wore some silly white shorts.

On our way there, Korey was stopped by a stranger who jumped out of his car to take a picture in front of an iconic statue. We attributed this move to Korey's hot new sress. The three of us meandered around the town for a bit until we determined it was time to booze. When we got the bar, the crowd was mixed and included everyone from the super preppy khaki-wearers to rather trashy bachelorette parties. We were somewhat entertained by this and happily sipped our Red Bull vodkas and chatted with Dario.

Late-ish into the night, a skinhead looking character approached Korey. In his attempts to hit on her, he mumbled some words in what can only be described as gibberish. She just smiled and nodded as usual, trying to be nice. The one question she actually understood was "Is he your boyfriend" as he motioned toward Dario. Korey was obviously uninterested in this creeper, so she responded yes.

And then, Dario was suddenly flying across the room. The Skinhead Creeper had made a poor attempt to punch him in the face, grazing his jaw and pulling on his shirt. We ran to Dario through the crowd that had magically parted. He luckily came out unscathed, aside from missing two or three buttons on his dress shirt. Skinhead Creeper was carried out by a few measly looking bouncers while the others held Dario back. Soon all was right in the world again. Mostly. Dario was quite worried that the failed punch to the face would leave him bruised and possibly even with a black eye. But we kept sipping our drinks until the lights came on.

Korey, what have you (and your sress) done!? She rejected a guy and caused an explosion of events. While he was not attractive or even comprehensive, it's wild that a guy would just want Korey so much he finds it necessary to punch her (supposed) boyfriend! I mean, seriously? They barely conversed because she couldn't understand a word he said! Clearly the Skinhead Creeper was just looking to get into a fight. I just wonder if (when we get them) our actual boyfriends would be willing to throw (or take) a punch for us? I'm not even sure I'd want them to. But I'd be curious to find out.

To Give or Not to Give

Sex. Blow Jobs. Which one is more intimate?

I personally think that having sex with someone is more intimate. I do and I have done everything else long before sleeping with someone. If I ever sleep with them at all. Giving them head just isn't really a big deal to me.

However, Janelle and Belinda think differently. They'd rather bypass the blow job and go all the way. Their logic is that putting it in your mouth is a bigger deal than... Letting him into you. Janelle and I even discussed this with a couple of our guy friends, who agreed that sex is usually a bigger deal. There is an exception for a bad blow job which is apparently (and understandably) a deal breaker.

I think it also depends if feelings are involved or not. If I actually like-like someone (rare), I ideally would try not to sleep to sleep with them right away. But it's hard for me to hold back and I often end up just blowing the guy. Maybe a little too soon. I'm really not sure this is any better or worse than having sex with him, but at least I don't have to tack on another one to my number.

A month or so ago I told a guy that I was in no way having sex with him. Yet. And he said he could respect that. Except we messed around in all sorts of ways and gave and received multiple times on a couple different occasions. I actually like(d) him and knew actually having sex with him would only make him disappear and me possibly like him more. Just as a side note, he recently invited me over. Wonder what he was after.

Is there really much of a difference though? Stick it in or don't? Maybe we think sex is a big deal because someone at some point in our lives told us not to have it, or simply because we know how it can change a relationship. I suppose this is a matter of personal preference. And for now, I'll keep doin' what I'm doin'.

The Model

At Janelle's 23rd birthday party, things got a bit out of control. To say the least. Open bar always leads to bad decisions and great stories.

But one of the most intersting occurances was definitely when a girl handed me a glass of champagne. I'm not even really sure how I ended up near her. But we chatted for a few, and she said she had just moved to New York from Washington state and worked for some random modeling agency. I then wandered back to my friends, double-fisting with my possibly roofied champagne. I finished my glass and decided to return to my new female friend to thank her for the drink.

She then offered to get me another, which I attempted to refuse. Of course, my protests were ignored and I soon had another glass to down. This girl, whose name escapes me, then told me that I was by far the prettiest girl at the bar. I found this both incredibly surprising and surely untrue. So I told her that was not possible, that I was average to somewhat above average at best, and that I was clearly missing the boat. She insisted with me that my "whole look" was just great and that I was incredibly pretty. And that I totally had the wrong attitude about everything and that it was holding me back. She introduced me to the guys she was with, and I chatted with them for a few more minutes. I then wandered away again, completely lost and confused about what had just occurred. I didn't chat with her for the rest of the night and we did not say a proper good-bye.

I am quite confused about what this girl was doing. Trying to make new friends I guess. But I mean, prettiest girl at the bar? Is that a pick-up line? Or did she think complementing me would make me want to be her friend? Perhaps she wanted me to model with her? Maybe if I lost 20 pounds and grew about 8 inches. I mean, if she was really trying to pick me up, why didn't she ask for my number? Did I flee too soon? Or seem ungrateful for the complements? Very confusing. And really, really bizarre.

Yet still strangely flattering.

The Slobber-er

While away in Europe, I made out with a fellow American. We messed around a bit until he claimed his knees hurt to much to keep going. Oh, yeah. We were hooking up outdoors in a village completely made of stone. There were chickens in a coop to my left and I was laying on my back on a raised piece of concrete while this fellow American was semi-standing. So we stopped when he realized how scraped up he was getting.

He was hot. I mean, his body was mediocre but he was DEFINITELY good-looking. I had been eyeing him for a majority of the day/night and thinking that he was very attractive. He carried himself in a slightly overconfident manner, which led me to believe he was experienced with girls.

Maybe he is, but I must say, his kissing skills were sub-par. Perhaps he thinks his handsome face makes up for it. But I do not. Especially considering that he is in his late twenties. But he was...slobbery. Like, way too much tongue. Kind of like kissing a Golden Retreiver. There was slobber on my face and it was generally unpleasant. Luckily my level of intoxication was high enough that I tolerated this. As always, I tried to coach with my tongue and encourage him to use less. But I failed and was left with both burn from his five o'clock shadow and saliva covering my chin.

Why is it that some guys think tongue makes a kiss sexier? More intimate? I have NO idea. Too much slobber is just... Gross. It's actually quite a turnoff when a guy is a bad kisser. The last thing I want is slobber all over me. And lord knows what other skills are terrible if he can't even figure out how to kiss.

Always Chatting

My friend Janelle and I were chatting today. About boys. As always.

But Janelle brought up an interesting point - We're just always talking about boys. Maybe it's part of being single- after all, if we had boyfriends we'd probably a) spend time with them and therefore less time talking to eachother, and b) wouldn't have a new boy to chat about every couple of days. And I suppose there's a lot more to analyze when things go terribly wrong, which is normally the case for me.

Even at work- I talk about guys with the almost-30 coworker I've known for approximately 1 week. I'm not sure either of us could offer much insight into the other's love life- but maybe being straight is a good area of common ground. It doesn't help that the ten or so other staff members are all male. So once we talk about them it just tends to segway into a crush or something.

It's just funny because I wonder if I'd worry about guys if we didn't talk about them all the time. We hang on every word and overanalyze every text. Even something so subtle as a sideways glance can mean he's totally into (or not) into you. Is he being friendly or flirty? So many questions and so few answers- and we're always left to ponder it with our fellow single friends. As much as the girls who are attached can offer insight, it just isn't the same when they do not have a similar dilemma. It's just so silly- we should have much more important issues to discuss right? Our jobs, dieting, the economy? Death of Senator Kennedy?

Not really our style. I like boys. And I'm just gonna keep talking about them until I find one who doesn't intrigue me so much.

Too Shallow?

I have said it before and I'll say it again.

I consider myself quite a catch.

I'm smart, attractive, energetic, and fun as hell. And I expect a guy to be the same.

But attractive doesn't mean (at least to most) that he has to have a body like Paul Walker. I understand this. But I tend to pick out guys who are really good looking. Above average. Like myself? I don't know. But maybe eliminating someone from my radar based on their bad shoes might just be well, too shallow. But then again, am I shallow for doing so if I just don't find them attractive? I might not go after the guy with the stupid Ed Hardy t-shirt, but if he approached me, I probably wouldn't write him off right away. I guess it's because I'd like to hold a potential partner to the same standards at which I hold myself. And those standards are high.

The girls and I went out this weekend and as usual, the caliber of men was sub-par. But some talked to us and we didn't ignore them. Even the ones who weren't cute had less personality than my left toe! It's practically torture to try to talk to someone ugly and boring.

Maybe thinking that I deserve the best is holding me back. They say you'll know whether or not you like someone within like 3 minutes or some nonsense. Is this true? I'm no psychologist, so I don't know. If I meet a mediocre guy at the bar, get bored, and walk away, am I really ruining it for myself? Am I so shallow I'm keeping myself from something potentially great?

Just A Friend

My friend Korey has recently realized that she has few guys in her life she can call just friends. One guy whose company she enjoyed and hung out with regularly (but had no real attraction to) recently confessed his love to her. They no longer speak.

Another of her friends, from home, was flirty and fun. She also enjoyed hanging out with him and they talked regularly. But she didn't feel the spark. Then they had sex and he disappeared.

A college friend often bought her gifts (including a PhotoHunt machine) but she had a boyfriend for three out of our four years. When she and the ex broke up, this guy continued to pursue her. Unfortunately she just wasn't feeling it. And he also refuses to speak to her now.

What has Korey done wrong? Is it her fault that guys who she wants to be JUST FRIENDS with fall for her? I mean, she can't help having an incredibly endearing personality. Or that she's really good looking. She doesn't try to give them flirtatious signals. They just want her! But poor Korey is stuck without a backup guy for work events or baseball games. Should she change her behavior so they don't all fall for her? Absolutely not. I mean, is it really so bad?

The Juror

I recently had the unfortunate experience of being chosen to sit on the jury for what ended up being a twelve-day civil trial. The jury was a fun mix of young and old, and the deliberations were not half as dreadful as one would expect. But during this deliberation time, I began to take notice of one of my fellow jurors.

During the trial, one of my twenty-something fellow jurors came in at the last possible minute and mostly kept to himself. When he did speak, he usually made a comment about the goofy lawyer or the obnoxious amount of time spent at court. Nothing to make him really stand out.

When listening to testimony was over, the 9 of us returned to the jury room to have a round-table discussion and reach our unanimous verdict. The table was not actually round. Instead it was two rectangular tables placed to form a T. I sat to the side of one of the tables making the T. To my right (and around the corner of the table) was a middle-aged social worker, and to her right, the mysterious juror. On Friday when we started deliberating, he happened to be wearing a rather tight sweater. And since his bicep was in my direct line of vision.... well, let's just say he definitely started to stand out. I discovered later that afternoon that he is a personal trainer. This would explain the biceps.

As deliberations went on, mysterious man, social worker and I became the peanut gallery of the bunch. We often disregarded the other six and chatted amongst ourselves (Fret not justice system, we were reprimanded accordingly by the foreman). During one of our breaks, the Juror showed the social worker and me his "website", which was actually pictures of him. Without a shirt. And let me just say... DAMN! This kid was riiiiiiped. Had I not been in such an official setting (and had I had a few cocktails in me), I would have definitely tried to go and rip off that frivolous sweater. And perhaps his pants as well.

The Juror and I often found ourselves standing up and moving next to each other. And we found out he used to live down the street from me! He loves the neighborhood and still comes pretty often to visit friends. He has the same original iPod nano that I do, but his still works. I told him how mine did not and he told me he could probably fix it. We talked about my upcoming trip to Europe and his experiences there. All sorts of things. Eventually this led to him giving me his card and asking me to hit him up on Facebook. So I friended him and subsequently told him I liked his picture. It was him, once again, shirtless and looking HOT. He said, "Oh, you like that?" and I told him once again that I did. Obviously flirtatious? I don't know. But at this point I really just wanted his muscular body to dominate me. Maybe in the courtroom?

Anyway, we gave our verdict and the nine of us parted ways. The Juror and I did not depart especially different from anyone else. But at least I knew I now had his Facebook friendship, and a reason to contact him. And later that very night, guess who I got a message from!

THE JUROR!

He sent me an article about the case, which I was less than thrilled about. But I told him I, too, had looked it up and felt I wouldn't forget it anytime soon. So I tried as long as I could to wait (45 minutes) and replied with what I thought a witty response. I had been watching Entourage (which we also bonded over) and a character said something often mentioned during the trial. Then I asked him (to keep conversation flowing) if we'd ever be able to get away. That was late last night. But judging by his 97 friends, he's not much of a Facebooker. So we'll see if I hear from him. He still has to fix my iPod after all. I wonder if they'd let us back into the courtroom for some naughty activity. Hm...

The Dad

As I have mentioned, my cousin Frieda has a much-older man friend, and we have lately been hanging out with him and his fellow men-friends. I call them such since they are both ten-plus years older than Frieda and me.

One of them is an established bachelor. The other is a divorced father of three.

Obviously, The Dad is the one who decided to get my number from Frieda. And who asked me out via text. Multiple times. While The Dad is a nice guy, successful in his career, and well...pretty hot, I just can't get past the whole idea of him being a dad. Am I horrible? I mean, one date with him does not mean I'll be expected to play Step Mom. But the whole idea just freaks me out. One harmless date could turn into a lot, and I wouldn't want to lead the Dad on. Especially since I'll be seeing him regularly with Frieda and her other man-friend.

Baggage is obviously something everyone has. A crazy ex, a broken heart, whatever. But kids? I think I'm a little too young to have to even think about dating someone who has them!

The Freak Out

I had a really rough week last week. I won't reveal details, but I was uncharacteristically stressed out and it showed.

Before my week from hell, things were going great. I finally had a grip on my life in general and thought things with a certain guy were moving in the right direction (even if it had barely been a week since we started talking). He called and said the right things and even seemed to be okay with me not sleeping with him right away.

Except I had a freak out and I told him about one (of more than one) issue I was having and why I was stressed. He seemed fine and normal but never called back that night. Concerned, I texted him the next day and apologized for my wacky behavior. He said he was worried about me and that was it. Never to be heard from again.

A guy friend of mine from school informed me never to freak out. That would obviously raise a red flag that I'm totally psycho. My girlfriends reassured me that I was justified in my freakout, but I still can't help to think that's why he disappeared. It's unfortunate that he experienced me flip, since it was probably the only time I'll do so all year. Or at least to this extent. But I guess I expected too much to think my freak out was justified. Am I just another crazy girl?

The Rebounder

Lord knows I'm not one for relationships. But a few weeks ago I started talking to a guy who recently got out of a very serious relationship. Let's just say a lot of plans had to be canceled when they broke up and I'm sure their families lost a deposit or two. I can't even wrap my head around being in such a committed relationship.

I know minor details about their breakup, but from what I understand from secondary sources, he is still having a pretty tough time with the whole situation. While out at the bar on Sunday, he told me he got pretty upset while talking to one of our mutual friends and wanted to tell me before she did. I asked if it was the ex and he told me yes, and I basically told him I didn't want to know. He then looked at me sincerely upset, and alluded to how many years they went out. I frankly would rather be spared any further information.

But he has tapered off on calling, and I'm sure it could be for a number of reasons. Though I probably somehow screwed up (like always) I think the guy on the rebound is like a whole new species. After being tied down for so long, he probably wants to explore every option (and every p****) that's willing. Do I want to be one of many? Not so much. But I can't say I blame him. I just have to remember that although we may have some very real chemistry, he probably still wants to call up the Ex. He was apparently CRYING over the Ex. Therefore he's obviously not ready to move on, even to someone so fabulous and emotionally distant as myself. But the Rebounder has emotions I have yet to witness from my usual one-night stands. There are genuine feelings he has to get over. Someone he was with most everyday is now out of his life, except maybe (I assume) for the occasional phone call or e-mail. And even if he is trying his best to move on and get all the ass he can, I can't help but remember the framed photo of him and the Ex STILL on a shelf above his bed. I think I'm gonna have to give him some space to recover.

The Fellow Commuter

So it finally happened.

A fellow commuter hit on me on the train. It's about damn time!

I took my regular 7:44 this morning, and saw a guy (around my age) who I see most every day. Like me, he looks like he could be fun and normal but just wants to get to work. He is not particularly attractive but he isn't bad either.

Today he must have felt especially friendly. Perhaps it was the nice weather. Or that he displayed his strength and masculinity by holding the train door for me. Either way, after our 55 minute commute, he waited in his seat for me to come out of mine. Then he said hello.

No big deal, right? So we began the conversation and he asked where I worked and where I lived. I found out his name is Danny and he works at UBS. How exciting. He also commented that we're the only people our age who seem to make the treacherous commute. Hm. Since this is the case, perhaps next time I see him (this afternoon?) I should suggest we commiserate over a cocktail.

Cliche of the Day

Normally I'm not one for quotes most often found on a teenager's MySpace page. But this one popped up on my News Feed today and I thought it might be of some comfort to my fellow Single Friends.

"I'm sick of the hook-ups, the set-ups, the f*ck-ups, the guy who only wants one thing, the guy who doesn't know what he wants, the guy who does, but won't admit it...I just want the real thing."

I guess whatever teenybopper thought this one up was wise beyond her years. There are a lot of wrong ones out there. The real thing, I'm realizing, is going to take a while. And we all get frustrated from time to time, but I think it's just part of life. And actually, I'm not yet sick of the hook-ups. Those are the fun part.

Setting Your Sights

Kendall and I were recently discussing how she often goes for guys she "knows she can get". Rhonda also apparently does this. I unfortunately tend to go after a challenge. Someone who is, in some respect at least, out of my league. I could think they are really hot or sought after by other girls. Maybe it is my somewhat competitive nature. Or perhaps I am just think I'm just cooler/hotter/smarter than I am.

I'm just not sure what is better. To set the bar low? Then at least you know you'll get what you want, even if the guy is far from perfect. Maybe make him like you more than you like him. Be admired, right? Make him adore you? This actually sounds quite spectacular. But does a just-alright guy necessarily make the best boyfriend? Partner? Can you have that undeniable chemistry with someone you think is just...alright? I suppose if admiration includes showering you with gifts and attention, it'd be acceptable. But I think I might get a bit annoyed.

Maybe I'm immature, and God knows I'm not ready for a serious relationship (at least I don't think so). But the idea of getting emotionally involved with someone I think I'm "better than" doesn't seem right. And going after someone I know I can get seems dishonest. I want it to be more of an equal-liking. Kendall says people tell her boyfriend she's too good for him, which I'm sure only forces him to question himself. Or forces her to question if she's right to be with him. Who are they to judge? If she feels more comfortable with a regular guy, let it be. I may not do this myself, but each girl has their own way of choosing.

Maybe I will fall for a regular guy who will admire me much more than I do them. And perhaps if I adopt Kendall's attitude, it will happen sooner rather than later.

The Party Girl

As you may imagine after reading about a number of my semi-ridiculous adventures, I am a shameless party girl. I get sloppy drunk, say embarrassing things, stumble out of bars and tend to make bad decisions with the opposite sex as well.

I just like to have a (really, really) good time.

But I do wonder sometimes if my juvenile attitude of getting wasted and being stupid is a turn-off to guys. I do have a serious side, I just tend to hide it behind high-heels and low-cut shirts. I suppose anyone who actually got to know me would understand that. Except I still wonder if people look past this. My letting loose on Saturday night might just be too much for one to handle. Especially if the majority (or all) interaction takes place out at a bar or a party. I'm not looking to change my ways, obviously. Like I've said, ain't nobody gonna slow me down. But is there anyone who is going to try? Or am I just too much of a party girl?

The Jealous Friend

Many, dare I say most, girls are insecure about boys in some way, shape, or form. For whatever reason it may be, girls always seem to want boys to want them. And we all have different ways of showing it and acting upon our feelings. Some girls will go after what they want no matter what the repercussions. And some girls don't know what they want until someone else has it.

I was recently thinking back to when I used to hook up with/sort of a date a kid at school. It was one of those normal college situations where you hang out and such but don't actually go on dates. The two of us would often find ourselves hanging out with his roommate and another girl. This girl, to put it delicately, was very much up my ass and liked to point out our apparent similarities, many of which were far from true. In any case, she thought we were so much the same she also seemed to think it was okay to hang all over the boy I was hooking up with.

Shamelessly.

I pointed this out to him at my 21st birthday party. He laughed it off and told me he wouldn't touch her with a ten-foot pole. You see, she had even more of a penchant for frat boys than I did. She actually seemed to be proud of the fact that she'd slept with approximately ten guys in the same fraternity, some of them involved with our own sorority sisters. It's as if she liked the idea of having what someone else had. Specifically me. Constantly pointing out how much we were alike, even though I was obviously better looking and more well-liked, really got under my skin. And trying to be all over the boy? Worse. She tagged along when we hung out alone. Talk about a cock block. If I had liked her enough or didn't think she had bad intentions, I would have laughed this off. But why is it that girls like her always want what we have? Can't they go find their own boy to like? Instead of ruining my fun? I just don't get it. Yes, we have insecurities. But to make me feel insecure because she was is just plain terrible. Her jealousy was so obvious and made her such a toxic friend. I'm glad I gave her the boot and she will no longer follow me around and go after my....everything. I just hope that I no longer have to worry about psycho-jealous friends going after what I have.

Jealous friends are just such an issue when it comes to guys. If they aren't jealous that you're dating a great guy and trying to get in his pants, they whine about how much time you spend together. Going from free and single to hooking up with someone is bound to bring changes. How girlfriends handle it really shows who the true ones are.

Maybe I Don't Want A Prince At All

After pondering my own words for a bit, I realized perhaps I am not waiting for the Perfect Guy. I am not quite sure of what I want at all. And I feel like if I am always waiting for something or someone better, I might end up Waiting for Godot.

Right now, I just want to have fun. Cliche? Perhaps. But it's summer. And I'm fabulous. If some guy happens to come along and be just as great as I am, I'll give him a shot. But I'm sure not about to stop for just anyone. Maybe not even Prince Charming.

Too Self-Centered?

On Wednesday night while at the bar with some of the girls, I started talking to a boy resembling a nerdy Prince William in a patriotic tie. We were chatting about work and where we lived and things of that nature. He inquired a lot about me. After a couple drinks I was more than happy to tell him about how terribly stupid I am at work among other ridiculous, exaggerated things. The conversation was mostly focused on yours truly. When I finally asked Prince William about himself, he made sure to point out that I had yet to ask anything about him. I found out where he was from and his ethnic background. We got ready to leave a short while later and said goodbye.

Although he bought me a drink and we talked for a solid half-hour, he failed to ask for my phone number. Rather than let it go, my brazen friend Janelle told Prince William that her drunk friend (me) would regret not asking for his number myself. So she took it down. When doing so, he told her that one reason he didn't ask to exchange numbers was because he was worried I wouldn't remember his name.

Wow. So either I came across as much more drunk than I was, or he thought I was so incredibly self-absorbed that I wouldn't care to remember. I suspect it was a combination of the two. But his half-joking remark pointing out that I failed to ask about him forces me to question this. Perhaps my jokes about thinking I am fabulous and attractive were a turnoff, but I thought it was funny. Prince William seemed rather amused, enough so to buy me a drink. But not enough so to want to see me again. Maybe he thought if we saw each other, I would just blabber on about myself so much that my voice would eventually sound like fingernails slowly sliding down a chalkboard. I will have to work on finding a happy medium when it comes to my overconfidence, otherwise I'll be sending more Prince William lookalikes running.

Love Game

Games. We all play them. But why? And where do they come from? I recently thought about a game of sorts I have been playing and whether or not there is any real point.

Except I believe the game I play only exists in my feeble mind. You see, I have had a semi-secret crush on one of my friends for quite some time now. We don't see or talk to each other very often, but when we do I try to remain aloof and play hard-to-get. But since we've been friends for a while I can't imagine he cares very much if I wait an extra five minutes to text him. As a matter of fact, he probably doesn't even notice. When he comes to meet me at the bar, I don't treat him especially differently than anyone else. I am sometimes rather cold despite the fact that I want to pounce on him. Part of me gets nervous. But the other part of me does not want to give him any indication that I might think of him in a non-platonic way, since we long ago established Best Friend status. Along with this, I somehow hope this will make him find me mysteriously sexy.

Essentially, I am playing a one-sided game. Unless this Best Friend semi-secretly feels the same way I do, which I highly doubt, I am over-thinking every move I make for no real reason. I guess the hard-to-get game is one we all play, whether or not games are necessary at all.

Marisol and I were discussing games in general. While games involving jealousy or teasing are far beyond my scope of understanding, we concluded that you almost have to play hard-to-get. If a girl is constantly in contact, she comes across as clingy or needy. Marisol put it perfectly when she said that a lot of people have missed out on starting something because they are too busy trying not to text first. Boys and girls need to find the perfect balance between being overwhelming and unavailable. No one likes too clingy, but games are often a waste of time and get in the way. I suppose its much easier to figure out when both parties feel the same way.

In my case, I am not so sure since I'm pretty sure my friend is just that. My friend. I try not to play games, because I find it much easier to just put it out there. And in the grand scheme of things, they often just delay things or turn people off. But how do we tell when one is playing a game or just being themselves? This one might be far too much for me to figure out.

I've Answered My Own Question

I must say, I looked absolutely fabulous at Drexel's graduation party. The one where I realized I might be a bit too promiscuous to keep my Good Girl Single Friend rep in tact. My friends were very complimentary and I noticed a certain guest giving me a particularly intense gaze for most of the night.

This is not to say I went in with the intention of getting blackout drunk or hooking up with anyone.

But once again, my good intentions rarely mean anything after a beer or seven.

I was pretty social and made the rounds. Liquid courage may have caused me to say things a little sillier than before I chugged that fifth Bud Heavy, but I continued drinking. Wrongly thinking I can handle my liquor as always.

It quickly got dark and we all gathered around the bonfire.

Once the sun went down, my memory seems to have shut down as well. I vaguely recall talking to my friend Drexel's 19-year old little brother, but not totally throwing myself at him. However, my sources tell me that I was sitting on the Little Brother's lap. And then our chair fell over. But instead of getting up (and retaining any dignity), we had a full on make out session on the lawn. Rolling around like little squirrels is how I picture it. This explains the various cuts and bruises I have found on my legs in the days following this alleged incident.

Fast forward to 5:59 AM Sunday morning. I woke up and was surprised to find myself in a bed. I looked around to make sense of my surroundings, and the first things I saw were...Oh No.

A condom wrapper and my panties, staring at me from the hardwood floor.

OH.

MY.

GOD.

I looked at myself under the covers and noticed that I was still wearing a bra. One less thing I'd have to gather up. I quietly put my dress back on to sneak out of the room. I texted my best friend Seraphina to inform her of my little blunder, and realized I was also unable to locate my shoes.

Clearly I would not be able to make a quick escape.

Surprisingly, Seraphina was awake at this unGodly hour, so I snuck downstairs, climbing over my friends and their various passed-out bodies. I consulted Seraphina, who was quite amused at the fact that the Little Brother is younger than my little sister. We tried to figure out what I should do next. Korey was upstairs with Drexel and we drove to the party together. I called her despite the fact that it was now only 6:30 am. I think I was still drunk and that is the only way I can justify such phone calls.

Korey was not happy to be woken up and I remained shameful and shoeless in Drexel's house. Joining my friends on the floor looked rather painful so, against Seraphina's advice, I was forced to retreat upstairs to the Little Brother's room. Thankfully I passed out for another hour or so.

Waking up with the Little Brother wasn't awkward. We chatted briefly and went downstairs together, getting a few laughs from my now-awake friends scattered in the living room. Having no idea how I got to his room, I figured everyone now knew what happened (if they didn't before). Bottles of water were passed around to nurse our hangovers and we all discussed dreading our various drives home. Korey and I located my shoes and then said good-bye to Drexel's parents and...the Little Brother.

Who said he was sure that we'd talk again soon. Nice one, Lil Bro. As if.

But my number is now apparently increased by one. At that very party causing me to question my sluttiness. Signs are pointing to yes.

Waiting for Prince Charming

Korey recently broke up with a...psycho with bi-polar tendencies. To put it delicately. He was Mr. Right Now and when they talk now it's always cruel bickering. She has concluded she liked the idea of having a boyfriend (at the time) more than thinking they were destined to be together forever.

She now realizes after settling for him that she'd like to fall for the right guy next time. Prince Charming.

As I have said previously, I do not want to settle for anyone. And I'm glad Korey has now adopted a similar attitude. This person does not have to become my husband or anything, because the idea of marriage or anything like that is totally over my head. But it's funny, because my dear friends Janelle, Seraphina, Belinda and I always end up talking about "husband-hunting" (to quote Janelle) and the future.

Scary right?

As the perpetually Single Friend, I have always joked that I am never going to get married. If so, I picture myself being not unlike Katherine Heigl's character in 27 Dresses. I even have the over-stuffed leather day planner. But when discussing who of us 4 BFFs would end up married first, Janelle concluded that it would be me. I made some sort of sarcastic comment, but she said she thinks some guy will just "sweep me off my feet and that would be it".

I realized she might not be so far off. I just don't want to date someone for the sake of doing it, if I don't have real feelings for them. Although the idea of my Prince Charming coming is a bit unrealistic, Korey and I think that he has got to be out there somewhere. No one is perfect and we understand this. But why not wait and see?

Guilty Conscience

This weekend I went out in the city to celebrate Seraphina's birthday. Belinda's boyfriend met us at the bar and introduced me to his friend, let's just call him Vineyard Vines. They had been trying to set me up with VV for quite some time because he was apparently funny, smart and "totally my type".

VV and I made some attempts at conversation. I was bored (and much more interested in my friend who came to meet me) so I bopped around the bar and didn't pay him much mind. Not a long while later, I was feeling guilt tripped by Belinda's boyfriend so I tried to talk to him. He bought me a drink. We briefly chatted about our jobs. The conversation was forced, and he did not crack a joke or a smile. Clearly not funny at all. Uninterested, I then wandered off to chat with Aurelia. On my way back, VV just went in for a kiss. Drunk and confused, I let him give me a little peck but continued walking.

I wandered back and forth between him and my other friends, and then he tried smooching me again. I wasn't feeling it, but in my attempts to be nice I stood near him anyways.

At which point he started trying to finger me outside of my fabulous white jeans.

Um. Ew?

I moved away but he pulled me back and tried again. Then began asking me to go home with him. I told him no, and he asked again. As if I had given him some sort of indication by pulling away that I wanted to go home with him! Although I found the fact that he was left handed rather sexy (and enjoyed his preppy ensemble), that's where my attraction ended. I had no desire whatsoever to talk to this character at the bar, nevermind wake up next to him the following morning. I was perturbed by his behavior and majorly turned off to the idea of meeting a friend's boyfriend's friend after that. And I felt like I was in high school being publicly felt up OUTSIDE of my pants (This is better than if his hands were inside my pants but then again I would have had much more control over that happening). I really have no idea what in his drunken mind thought that this would in fact, persuade me to go back to his apartment. But I do know that next time I am not interested in someone, I'm not letting guilt lead me back to him.

The Fear of Commitment?

I was recently talking to a friend about what will happen when The Single Friend does in fact, become The Attached Friend.

While I often laugh about never wanting this to happen, this is not necessarily the case. This friend even suggested to me I get together with a few of the different guys at the party. I told him the ones he selected were not my type. Which obviously prompted him to ask my type.

Tall? Pretty eyes? Reasonably built? I don't really have a type at all, unless you ask Seraphina and Belinda, who often mock my attraction to the country-club metrosexual. (Read: pastels, polos, khakis and loafers). But this is probably because the majority of the guys at my college dressed in such attire. I gave my friend some BS answer and tried to change the subject.

Luckily the conversation progressed from me onto other things. But I realized that there are a number of reasons I will likely remain The Single Friend for quite some time.

One is that I think very highly of myself. I am truly a catch, so I really see no reason to bother with some sub-standard guy. Call me critical, but I just have incredibly high standards. A man needs to be able to match my wit, have some sort of brain and understand how unbelievably fun I am.

The other issue is that I have an emotional wall that is probably equal in size to the Great Wall of China. I have a difficult time letting people get to know the "real me" versus the "public party me". Janelle has told me time and time again to break down the wall, and I know I will have to at some point. But perhaps the person who can break it down has not come into my life yet. I also have a fear that if I do commit to someone, there is always that chance of something better. Or that, like has happened in the past, when I like someone enough to date them, something will go terribly wrong and I will have nothing to show for my time. I guess I've just got a major fear of commitment.

Does That Make Me A...?

This weekend, I attended a college friend's graduation party. It was mostly new and recent alumni from my sorority and our (essentially) brother fraternity. There were maybe 30 of us at any given point. I was thrilled to see everyone. We all caught up and chatted about this and that, reminiscing about funny college stories and laughing about hating our jobs (or for new grads, being unemployed).

While sitting casually and sipping my beer, I looked around at the crowd. I then realized that I had slept with 1...2!? People at the party. Yikes.

Does that make me a....slut!?

My addiction to frat boys is nothing that I did not know. I think I had also made out with at least two or three boys at the party as well, no big deal. And really, a couple of the times I slept with the boys it was really unavoidable. I had to lose my V-card at some point, right? And another one of the boys was on our fabulous senior trip to the Bahamas. We were on vacation! I just wonder if the boys also realized how many of us have shared partners. Or if they have any sort of opinion on it. Luckily, I am not the sluttiest of our sorority sisters by any means. I can at least consider these boys my friends and hope they have some amount of respect for me.

It's a Small World...

On Memorial Day, my friends and I decided to hit up a beach bar. While the subpar crowd was a bit of a turn off at first, we made the best of it by starting the morning off with some shots of tequila and Red Bull Vodkas. The Ed Hardy-wearing, tattoo-bearing crowd looked much less toolish after a few of these various cocktails, and we began to loosen up.

While back and forth between the bar and perfectly placed table we grabbed, I kept my eye out for someone (anyone) who might be more my type than a boy wearing a rhinestone-studded t-shirt. Luckily, I spotted a tall blond wearing no shirt at all (and some dark Prada sunglasses). For some reason, he looked strangely familiar. I swore he resembled someone I saw at the indoor/outdoor bar the night before. I kept my eye on him while I waited for the perfect opportunity to pounce.

Unfortunately, I am not quite sure how exactly our conversation began. I vaguely recall standing by the bar. And at some point I asked him if he was at the bar the night before. He assured me he was not, but did tell me we'd met before. I was dumbfounded, and was pretty positive I had never seem this man before in my life.

Until that is, he told me that we'd met at the bar once and he was from this lame and faraway town. Ah yes, Mike. I did remember you. He was the very character who inspired my entry regarding boys who ask for your number but fail to (ever) call. So I told him that yes, in fact, he was familiar but never did use that phone number. He apologized and I accepted the rather insincere I'm Sorry and suggest he buy me a drink.

Mike claimed to have lost his wallet except for a $5, so he purchased his own drink and I purchased mine. (Why I let this happen, I will never know). We exchanged numbers again. He then put his hand down the back of my bikini bottom and started telling me what a great ass I had. This I already know, so I giggled flirtatiously and tried to pull his hand out. While the crowd was lacking any level of class, I did not want to succumb to this tacky display, complementary or not. I laughed about it a couple more times and then wandered off to enjoy my friends.

I frolicked with my friends for an undetermined amount of time and my phone began vibrating repeatedly. Mike was calling. Interesting. He told me to come to the beach. I told him I would in a bit. Five minutes passed and he called again. Wow, someone really enjoyed my ass. After a bit of persuasion from Mike, I told Janelle I was off to the beach for a little rendezvous in the sand.

I found Mike, sitting on his previously abandoned towel. We started making out almost immediately. Between smooches, I pulled off his sunglasses because I was obsessed with his sexy blue eyes. Since we weren't far from the bar, we had an audience. He told me that the girls about 15 feet away from us were jealous of me. I quickly became uncomfortable with the idea of being watched. Mike grabbed my hand and we walked down the beach.

On our two-minute walk to a less populated area, I found out that Mike is 27, an engineer, and went to UConn. All very interesting. We settled back into making out, but I was still weary of the teenagers within earshot and the family sitting out on their deck. I went along with the making out until my top fell off (eek!) and Janelle told me our friends were trying to leave. I scurried back to our stuff and bid Mike good-bye.

Unlike after our initial meeting, Mike made (over)use of my number for the remainder of the evening. He called and texted for our entire ride home and then some. He kept trying to get me to come to his faraway apartment (despite the fact that I was in no condition to drive). I put him off and pretended I was considering it for a while, until I finally told him "No" a solid two and half hours after I got home. This was the last bit of communication between the two of us.

Which is totally fine. And I completely understand him trying to get in my pants (or in this case, my fabulous bejeweled bikini). It's just so strange that I ran into him and he remembered me. And I made out with him on the beach for so long, almost getting abandoned. I had a "moral hangover" the next day for fitting in far too well with the trashy beach bar crowd. Norbert assured me that I am too hot to have such thoughts, and not to regret my sandy session. Now that a week has passed, I don't. But it's still so odd? Annoying? That the guy who didn't call was the one I ended up on the beach with three months later. I'm glad he was at least hot. But he still never called the next day.

The Eye F***er

Last Sunday, I went to an indoor/outdoor bar with my cousin Frieda and her friend in celebration of the long weekend. We got there early and tried to mingle with the crowd. My cousin saw a lot of familiar faces since she runs a local grocery store/deli with my uncle. She said hello to some of them and we went on our way. To the bar, of course, where we enthusiastically accepted two rounds of drinks from my cousin's much-older man-friend. While waiting for the shots to be ordered and poured, I scanned the crowd to find the night's victim. I was disappointed with what I saw. Except when turning my head toward the bar (for the shots that had finally arrived), there was a tall, reasonably attractive guy staring right at me. I made eye contact, gave half a smile and turned back to the bar. I took my Red Headed Slut like a pro and looked up, only to see his eyes still dead locked on me. I even looked over my shoulder to see if he was checking out someone else, but no. Totally eye f---ing me.

Let's set the scene. He was standing with a guy and a girl. I tried to figure out if the girl was his girlfriend. I hoped not for two reasons. One being that eye f--ing is not something I take lightly. The other being the girl standing with him had a terribly botched nose job, which left her with an uncanny resemblance to Miss Piggy. I pointed this eye f---er out to Frieda, who confirmed that I was not imagining this. She also found it hilarious. And happened to regularly sell lunch to Eye F---er's friend.

Frieda took the reins and after quick lap, we wandered over. I forced her to introduce me to this customer and his Eye F---ing friend (and avoided Miss Piggy). I shook Eye F---er's hand and he said "Hi, I'm (whatever his name was)". And that was it.

Alright, maybe the Eye F---er wasn't interested. Or thought I looked familiar, and upon hearing my name knew I was not. Whatever it may be, he made no attempts at small talk.

After that went totally wrong (and Frieda scolded me for forcing her into a mildly awkward situation), we ran into a friend from high school's ex-boyfriend. We were catching up with him, only a few steps from the Eye F---er. Whose eyes I felt burning holes through my fabulous hair with his (still) incredibly intense stares. Seriously?

What the f--- was with the Eye F---er?! If he found me so irresistible that he couldn't stop staring, why the heck couldn't he have moved the conversation past the introduction?

The...Sweaty Stranger?

I am not much of an athlete, but I do make (weak) attempts at getting in shape. My workouts are normally limited to one hour at Planet Fitness. I work out better with a friend, whose comfort I seek by sticking by her on the treadmill or following her to the stretching mats. Point blank, I feel slightly out of place at the gym. Maybe it's my lack of athleticism or my aversion to working out. But one thing does keep me motivated and keeps me going back.

Eye candy.

Not only does eye candy remind me of why I am at the gym in the first place, but it makes the dreadful idea of being at the gym much more enticing.

I will admit, although I look far from my best at the gym, I strut around like nobody's business. Perhaps it is because I take comfort in my pretty awesome legs (and make it a point to wear shorts). I do feel eyes following me when I walk by the male-dominated weights section. This is all fine and dandy. I like checking out my fellow gym-goers and I'm glad they reciprocate. Except is it inappropriate to take it beyond a casual gaze?

I am not so sure. I love the idea of admiring that man lift a barbell heavier than my entire body, but do I want to initiate a conversation with him? Or is he concentrating so hard on tearing his muscles that the idea of chatting with an attractive woman is far too much? How about when they stare me down as I walk by? Is just a smile sufficient? Or is it really worthwhile to play dumb and ask how to use a machine? (Although I wouldn't necessarily be pretending in this situation). I'd like to think that the gym is a better place to meet a guy than say, a random pub on a Thursday evening. Except I still question whether or not I want to talk to a guy when I'm gross and sweaty from forty minutes on the treadmill. Or if he will want to talk to me, looking oh-so-flushed and frizzy.

There are just so many factors- Most everyone is wearing headphones, so you can't just make a casual comment about how "crowded" the gym is today. What about that guy you know you've seen around? Is it weird to say you think you know him from somewhere? Gym etiquette, especially in terms of flirting, is still quite foreign to me. Hopefully tonight I won't have to worry about initiating the conversation at all, and one of those sexy men working his triceps will talk to me.

To Friend or Not To Friend

For the majority of us, Facebook has become as integral a habit as brushing our teeth. Some people even find it necessary to post a status detailing that they are in fact, brushing their teeth. I personally take the middle ground approach when it comes to revealing information and photos of myself. I have nothing to hide, after all.

In the early days of Facebook, it was perfectly acceptable to Friend Request a stranger or Poke the cute guy in class. That time has passed, and now Facebook Etiquette is like a whole new set of Commandments.

Say you meet someone at a bar. A friend of a friend. This person is attractive but you didn't really talk. Creepy to Friend them? Probably.

Say you meet someone at a bar. A friend of a friend. You talked all night. Creepy to friend them? Probably not. Desperate? Could be.

I bring up the ever-present issue of Facebook after my friend was telling me about a new boy she met while studying abroad. He is friends with some of her good friends, and she thinks he's incredibly hot. She invited him to an after party of sorts at her apartment, and he accepted. Only to disappear a few minutes later. She saw him a couple days later and he invited her out with him and his friends, but he had gone by the time she got ready. She heard through their mutual friend he might be interested. So should she take the plunge and Friend him? Or try to remain aloof?

The Friend Request is such a simple action but can mean so many things. If you friend too soon, you may appear desperate. But if you wait too long, the person you Friend may have forgotten about you or find it strange that you waited so long. Writing on someone's wall opens up a whole new can of worms, so I will save those thoughts for a rainy day. But the same principles apply. Facebook must be dealt with on a case-by-case basis.

Just like in the real world, virtual friendships are simply not black and white.

Too Aggressive?

My freshly single and sexy Latina friend Marisol was out with some fellow single friends. They were at a loungey-type bar where the crowd was pretty chill, mostly twenty-somethings. After failed attempts to get a dance party started, Marisol got bored. She perused the crowd and although no one caught her eye, she hoped she could initiate contact to maybe help out a friend.

She approached a group of four skinny but average looking guys. The only potentially frightening thing about them was their too-tight clothes, giving them a wannabe Eurotrash look. But Marisol, feeling brazen, was undeterred and went over to chat with them. Rather than make small talk and discuss their jobs or the weather, the first boy cut to the chase. This miniature Shrek started talking about his religion. And how he wore rings on certain fingers as part of his religious tradition. Marisol drunkenly pretended she was interested, but did not want to discuss religion in any capacity. So she asked to be introduced to his friends. They tried to avoid her gaze, but Marisol persisted. She began talking to one of the wallflowers, who looked rather prepubescent and had a haircut usually reserved for poodles. Poodle began blabbering about his travels to various cities in Asia. A few minutes into this fascinating travel tale, Poodle said to Marisol, "Wow, you're really aggressive".

Marisol was dumbfounded by this remark. He clearly mistook her being friendly for aggressive, since Marisol did little to indicate any aggression. She did not offer her phone number or make any attempts at physical contact. What she said could barely even be taken for flirtatious. Strange.

So Marisol, still persistent, ignored his comment and made one last-ditch effort with the wallflowers. She began talking to another one of the boys, who could have easily been mistaken for a long lost Jonas Brother. Instead of travel or religion talks, this one began whispering in Marisol's ear. In what sounded very much like a made up language. What? Marisol said. And he did it again. She rolled her eyes and began to turn away, when she heard Jonas whisper something to Poodle about how "she didn't like that very much". So Marisol called him out on how he just spoke English. They snickered. And Marisol curtly said, "Goodbye BOYS" and turned and walked away.

Poor Marisol. What an incredibly bizarre exchange. If being called aggressive was not bad enough, these lame wallflowers went so far as to pretend to speak foreign tongues to get her away. What I do not understand however, is why they would want to freak out a girl so wonderful as Marisol. She claims they weren't physically moving away from her, and that their body language was neutral. So she has gone so far as to say she thinks they were enjoying this awkward (to say the least) game. What a bunch of freaks.