Here's The Deal...
9 years ago
Monday, June 29, 2009
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.
Friday, June 26, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
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?
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.
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.
Friday, June 19, 2009
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.
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.
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.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
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.
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?
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?
Sunday, June 14, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, June 12, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
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.
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?
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?
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