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.

Here We Go Again

This weekend, I went out with a bunch of good friends. Shots began early and I quickly started to get pretty crazy and have a great time. The next day, some details were fuzzy but I thought I had a relatively firm grasp of the night before.

Clearly not the case.

While rehashing the night's events, my best friend Belinda informed me that she swore she saw me making out with someone. A stranger. I have absolutely no recollection of this stranger. Not making out with a stranger. Talking to a stranger. Finding a stranger in the bar attractive. Nothing. I sure hope he was attractive and that I gained some satisfaction from this. And that I'll remember next time I randomly attack someone in a bar.

The Prude Guy

Filomena was recently talking to a guy. He was pretty cute and nice and they had a good time together. He would invite her over to hang out. Filomena wanted to hook up. However, he was satisfied with making out for ten or so minutes and then chatting about life or giggling or (actually) watching a movie for the remainder of the time she stayed there. They went to his fraternity formal together, where they stayed alone in a hotel room. And still, he made no move to second base. What is wrong with this boy?

He is a unique kind of boy, called such since he clearly hasn't made the transition to manhood yet. He isn't one dying to get into a girl's pants. Filomena remarked she's not sure he has male parts, since she never saw or touched them. Is this boy too shy to make a move? Or too nice? It just seems so strange that a guy would fail to make a move on a willing and able party. She would have hooked up with him, had he maybe thought to move his hands below the belt. His loss!

Maybe In A Few Years?

I recently ran into one of my guy friends. Shortly after we started catching up, he started asking me when we were getting married and when I was having his babies. I laughed this off and went along with it, thinking he was just being silly. When he met up with my friends and me this weekend, he started saying the same thing as soon as he saw me. I once again laughed it off and went along with it, but the following morning I pondered why my friend finds this premature proposal so amusing.

Part of me thinks this is just a playful flirtation with no deeper meaning. This part is probably right.

But the overly analytical part of me thinks that perhaps my friend may actually want to date me sometime in the future. Clearly talks of marriage are out of the question. But I can only hope that in a few years, something will happen. I never thought of him as someone I'd like to date, but maybe he doesn't feel the same. He's a nice guy and we have a great time together. He made it a point to tell me how well he treats girls. I could easily be one of them, right?

I am, most likely, reading into this far too deeply. Except I like that little glimmer of hope for the future.

That Special Spark

My friend Janelle has been casually talking to a guy from work. He has essentially confessed his love to her and she says he looks at her like she is the only woman in the room. He unfortunately has a girlfriend, but she says that have a remarkable sexual attraction to each other. This alleged girlfriend has also not stopped him from pursuing her for coffee dates or make outs at the bar. There is just something there neither of them can describe.

I recently met a tall, dark and handsome fellow. He was by no means Brad Pitt, but for some reason I was drawn to him. It could have been his preppy ensemble, consisting of ribbon belt, pink shirt, khakis, and loafers, but I think there was something else. We hit it off immediately and spent the rest of the night tearing up the dance floor. Even after the lights turned on, we continued to chat up a storm and even shared a few pecks here and there. We exchanged numbers and he has often popped into my head since that night. But what is it that made him so much better than the others?

The only thing I can attribute the magnetism to is chemistry. That spark. The inexplicable attraction to the opposite sex. There is something that sets this guy apart from the rest. And I must admit, it's an amazing thing to find. If we can. Whether it's great sex or great conversation, is it so wrong to want to wait for it? Why settle for someone when the kissing is just alright or the conversation forced? I refuse to. If I can find someone who complements me in such a way that I can't get him out of my head, I'd much prefer that over settling for someone who's good to keep around because he pays for dinner. And if Janelle and her Coffee Boy have such an attraction, why let the girlfriend keep him away? No, chemistry doesn't justify cheating. But maybe it's not cheating, it's a twist of fate.

The Power of Scent

You often hear about how scent can drive a man wild. Or how certain smells unconsciously trigger memories and sentiments in our brains. Under normal circumstances, I would find this to be a crock of you-know-what.

Except for this one man at work, let's call him DBD. He is a straight up Douche Bag, and is one of those senior-level employees who makes my life a living hell. He is cruel and belittling among other things. But there is one thing about DBD I cannot help but love.

His smell.

When I step into his office, my nose is overpowered by a glorious scent. My attitude and bitterness subside somewhat. My olfactory sense is so overtaken that a man I despise, whose every e-mail I dread and phone call I run from, suddenly isn't so bad. This is incredible.

In turn, I am compelled to question what other powers scent has with attraction. If this smell can make an absolute a-hole seem like less of a DB, then what about that average looking guy at the bar? Or that somewhat nerdy guy who's always after you? Does your scent make you exponentially sexier? Or keep you in the same category? I hope not the latter. Magazines alwas tell you to use a lightly scented shampoo to "turn on your man" and I'm starting to really believe it. If I hate this DB a little bit less from his cologne smell, than smelling fabulous might make the next man I meet weak in the knees. I'm definitely going to make sure to spray on a little extra perfume this weekend.

My Bad?

Remember PCw?

He ended up calling the Wednesday after we met. Conversation was kept short and sweet, and he said Porter told him we'd be going to the bar on Saturday. I told him we were and we decided we'd see each other there. I was getting excited to see what potential PCw had. Moments after we arrived, so did he. I expected he'd bring his friends, but instead he arrived with Port, immediately setting off mental alarms that this was far too much for me to handle.

We talked. He bought my drinks. I even went with him to another bar to see his friend (I was supposed to see one of mine as well but she never showed). Upon returning to the original bar, I was upset that I had left my friends for this kid and wanted to mingle with the crowd. There were new faces and people I hadn't see in a while, and I was forced to entertain this kid I barely knew. Nevermind I was driving and he was trying to feed me shots of Cuervo. It started to get irritating, so I made several incredibly poor attempts to run away. Every time I would go to talk to someone else, SURPRISE! There he was, steps behind me. WHAT THE HELL?

Despite the fact that I was annoyed, I did enjoy the attention and felt bad for the poor kid, following me around like a little puppy (ironically his eyes are also rather puppy dog-like). So I let him put his hands on me and what not but did not allow him to kiss me. Especially not in front of all these people (a few of whom I had an interest in pursuing). He said maybe we could hang out during the week and I reluctantly agreed. Finally, after I kept running and he kept following, the lights turned on to signal last call. My relief was inexplicable.

I made my way outside and said I'd talk to PCw soon. I went to find the people I was chauffeuring home, leaving PCw to linger. And linger he did. While talking to a (decently attractive) friend of a friend, he mentioned he didn't talk to me because he thought "that kid was your boyfriend".

WHAT!?!?!?!?!

I told him that I do not believe in relationships. While this is not entirely true, I knew PCw was within ear shot and hoped that they both understand I am not looking to become The Attached Friend anytime soon.

PCw texted me after we finally parted ways and said he had a great time and that he wanted to hang out soon. Unfortunately, we're going on a week and I have gotten nothing from him. Porter, our mutual friend, has said in the past that I "always eff it up". So have I done it again?

The Awkward One

I once had a rather unsuccessful one night hook up with a fraternity brother. We were flirting then started making out and eventually made our way back to my room. There was touching and feeling and stripping of each others' clothes. We tried to go all the way, but I think jungle juice must have gotten the best of him that night. Eventually I told him there was no point in trying and we returned to the party, which had begun to empty out.

We went our separate ways and acted like nothing had happened, which is not so unusual in the case of such hook ups. I knew I would later encounter him but thought it would make no difference and that communication would be friendly. I even kept this little rendezvous hush hush to avoid the usual gossip surrounding such affairs.

Word got out despite my attempts at being tight-lipped, and my friends often mocked me for this drunken occurrence (clearly not anything new). I laughed it off as usual. But my interactions with this fraternity brother immediately became awkward. We had class together and would occasionally IM each other to mock the teacher. This stopped. He also lived just one building over, and noticed he would no longer say hello with the same enthusiasm as before. If he acknowledged me at all, that is. He'd walk into my friends's room and upon noticing me would be significantly quieter. I acted like all was well, so why couldn't he?

My initial thought is that he was embarassed about his lack of performance ability. Any guy would be, right? At this point I don't even care and he does not even have a notch on my bed post. But the morning after or day after or two week later awkwardness gets to me.

Why are some boys just so damn awkward?

Perhaps they think I regret the night before's antics. Maybe not so far off. But if he thinks he has to wine and dine me to make up for whatever happened, it could not be further from the truth. I do not text him 24/7 (or at all), but does he think I like him? Or that I have become attached after what happened at 4:30 AM? I simply do not understand why going on, business as usual, is so difficult. We hooked up, big deal. We didn't get married in Vegas.

A Public Service Annoucement

As many of you know, the purpose of my blogging is for entertainment value. And for me to ponder the many questions we all have concerning the world of dating. However, I have recently become concerned that The Single Friend has become too closely associated with the real person behind it. For those of you who know my living, breathing human self (and not just the cyber Single Friend), please take this message seriously.

If you are in my physical presence, do not mention the fact that I blog.
If you have questions or story ideas, please refrain from mentioning them anywhere associated with my real name. This includes all references to the fact that I have a blog and what it's called. Direct all inquires to thesinglefriend@gmail.com. Please do not ask me who the pseudonyms real-life people are. And do not bring up specific entries or nicknames in real life either. I am also going to try not to mention anything of the sort either just so it's fair for all of us.

I am not directing this PSA at any reader in particular. In fact, I love that so many people have started raving about The Single Friend. But (in all seriousness) I have started to question whether or not I can remain sane while attempting to blog about such personal topics. I have briefly considered completely deleting this blog altogether. I've found it rather stressful to broadcast such information to the public while fearing the link might fall into the wrong hands. So do me a favor and separate The Single Friend from the real-life person behind it.

The Mysterious Stranger

I check out everyone. I (not always discreetly) find myself giving others the once over and noting their cute shoes or nice eyes in my head. When I see couples or families I like to make up stories about where they might be going. But what I have most recently begun thinking about is how mysterious strangers are so damn sexy sometimes.

I take the train to work and it has proven the perfect place for checking out hot men, primarily in the over-30 age range. Usually adding to the sex appeal is the fact that these men are definitely employed at reasonable jobs, and are wearing sexy business attire. There is one man I see (literally) every day on my trains both to and from work. He is well dressed, maybe 35 with beautiful green eyes and a very nice physique. If his ring is any indication, he is (like many of them are) married. (Side Note: Since I begun commuting, I find myself glancing at most every man's left hand). He is very fun to look at, and I often wonder where it is he goes to work after that tedious train ride.

The best part about these sexy strangers is that I know the chance of me ever doing something so crazy as to talk to them is basically zero. Yes, I suppose I could make a comment about the weather or the timeliness of the train. But I much prefer staring. Every Day guy is very fun to look at, but I had the unfortunate experience of actually hearing him talk. His voice was rather high pitched and goofy and did not go with his look. He has now lost a considerable amount of mystery and therefore even more appeal.

Another thing about these people I so often check out is that if that little crush-from-afar is ever realized, it is never half as good as the day dreams. There were lots of kids in my classes and such who I had a mini-crush on, simply because they had some sort of weird appeal. And whenever I had the opportunity to talk to (or sometimes make out with) them, it was incredibly disappointing. Once the mystery fades, it seems that the real thing can never be as good as the fantasy. I'll just keep staring for now.

Wise Words

“I am totally confident that I am an incredible artist and performer. I am extremely confident about my body, the way I dress, the way I want to look. But I have no confidence when it comes to men. Men are a disaster area for me. It’s so weird because I believe I am super sexy. I believe I am incredible, but I have absolutely no luck with boyfriends.” -Lady GaGa

Truth.

Name Tag Night

My best guy friend, let's call him Porter, invited me to attend a "Singles Happy Hour" with some of his coworkers last Friday. I was not only apprehensive, but I do not think I am pathetic enough to have to attend such an event. But I'd had another boring day at the office and could use a beer. Besides, I always have a good time with Port.

Far too overwhelmed to walk in alone, I forced Port to meet me outside. We walked in and he, being very politician like, introduced me around. I met the organizer, Elaine, who proved to be quite a riot, as well as various other Singles. Much to mine and Elaine's dismay, no one caught my eye. But I sipped my beer (on Port's tab) and talked about the newly warm weather and other equally exciting topics. A bit later, Port introduced me to his coworker, who apparently shares some acquaintances with Port and me. The three of us talked for a while and had quite a few laughs. Porter then conveniently wandered off, leaving me and Port's Coworker (PCw) to chat alone. I found him pretty funny and there were no awkward or uncomfortable moments. I then left to pick up Karlene who was coming up for the weekend, and we said goodbye and nice to meet you.

Karlene decided she also needed a beer after an hour and a half on the train, so rather then head home I dragged her back to happy hour. Karlene has a serious boyfriend and was therefore dubbed by Elaine a fellow "Committed Connector". This being a mixer of sorts, most attendees were wearing name tags. I hate name tags. I (and PCw and I discussed this) usually put them somewhere on my body that is nowhere near my chest (my preferred spot is usually somewhere around my filet mignon ass). The second time around, I was unable to avoid this name tag game. Karlene was given a red name tag to demonstrate her relationship status, whereas us single folk were given blue as a go-ahead.

These silly name tags became a bit of a game for those of us at the bar. And don't think PCw kept himself away for too long. After covering the logo on my Bud Light with "My Name is ____", it was easy for us to pick up where we left off. A few more people had come and gone, and there were more introductions. Surprisingly, the once awkward mingling was becoming much more comfortable. Strangers were now pairing off in different areas of the bar, and the crowd began to thin. I soon became bored and realized it was far past my usual dinner time, so Karlene and I decided to head out. While standing with her, PCw, and some randoms, I said "My work here is done". PCw laughed and said, "No it's not. You haven't given me your number yet". So I politely obliged. Stay tuned for part two.

Scummy?

Prior to letting a frat boy swipe my v-card, I was the girl who did "everything but". I was willing to make out with just about anyone. Literally. I even kept a running list of my make out partners, until my half-sheet of paper was too full and I had an "exclusive" hook-up arrangement. While I enjoyed every minute, I never thought my many make outs would earn me a reputation. Even if the majority were public.

My friend Aurelia reminds me a lot of my early-life-in-college self. She is quite the make out bandit, choosing her many victims at various campus gatherings. She does not do "everything but" which I give her a lot of credit for. But Aurelia recently told me something I found both surprising and intriguing.

Two frat boys called her "Scummy".

Scummy?

Aurelia refrains from (most) below the belt activity. What would possibly make her scummy? Perhaps it was that Aurelia has chosen many of her make out partners from the same frat these boys are in. But Aurelia is one of the girls furthest from scummy I know, leaving me to wonder what frat boys thought about me. Or my even more promiscuous friends.