Wednesday, December 26, 2007


The holiday season had snuck up on me once again and with it, I packed my bag and drove back to Philadelphia to visit my family. I saw my friends, I drank at old bars and hangouts, I've realized that some things haven't changed a bit and others will never be the same again.

Upon my arrival I was eager to reconnect with my former best friend and I set aside a night to go see a movie with her. Seeing that I haven't seen her in over 3 months, I was looking forward to catching up and having a good old heart-to-heart talk about boys and things. As I waited for her at the movie theater, as she was running late again, I wondered what it would be like to see her again. When I finally saw her walking towards me... and next to her, her boyfriend, who for the past year became completely inseparable from her, I've realized that our friendship, as I knew it, was over. My former best friend did not need me any more and that trip to the movies made me realize that I no longer wanted to try to hang on to a friendship that no longer was.

I saw two of my best guy friends whom I haven't seen in over a year, and though I was hesitant at first to hang out with them, I ended having one of the best nights out. They haven't changed a bit, and if they did, the changes were all positive.

And now that I'm sitting in my comfy chair, recovering from Christmas madness, I am talking to one of my best friends in Cincinnati about all the good, bad, and the ugly of coming back home after an absence.

He brings up a guy I briefly met a month or so ago at a party. We barely spoke a word to each other but I remember finding him unbelievably cute. Well apprently, over the Christmas break, Cinci Friend and this guy became fairly good friends because it turned out they lived in the same apartment complex.

Of course, my Cinci Friend brings me some bad news as well, "He has a gf; just an fyi."

I'm not surprised with all the bad luck with guys I've been having, "Of couuuuuuurse he does."

He continues typing, "Though I'm not sure how long it will last, honestly. For now, I think it's secure but she lives in the same complex, so you know how that goes. I'll track her down and get the dirt lol"

"Well, just make sure you give me a heads up if that relationship comes to an end :P", I type back.

"Haha, oh I will let you know. .. I'll make sure we all hang out together at some point. Very slyly,"

So for now, I'm not putting all of my eggs in a basket but if my Cinci Friend pulls all the right matchmaking moves.... well, I'd be interested to see where this adventure might take me.

Friday, December 7, 2007

Daunting Date

Last night I went out on a blind date with a guy.

It was probably one of the most lackluster dates I have ever been on and I seriously could hardly keep myself awake throughout most of it.

First of all, and most unpleasantly of all, he turned out to be about 2 inches shorter than he told me over the phone. We both initially disclosed to each other that we were 5'9, so naturally, I thought to myself, "Okay, I can't really wear any kind of resemblance of heels around him, but at least he is around my height."

I was dismayed, however, when I met him, that by 5'9 he meant more around the regions of 5'7. You see, 5'7 is too short. I can't, I can't, I simply can't date a short guy again. I tried back in April, and it crashed and burned so miserably after about two weeks, that I never want to try again.

So we went to Buffalo Wild Wings a few blocks from where I live. I drove, as it was too cold to walk from my apartment to the wings place, and as we got out of the car and I walked next to him, it hit me once again that the height issue would make any kind of relationship between him and me impossible.

As we ordered our drinks and talked about sports, I found myself being more attracted to our bartender than my blind date. Call me crazy, but I felt that when the server and I smiled at each other politely as he greeted me and my date, his eyes locked with mine for a moment too long to just call it a friendly greeting. Simply put, he wanted me from the first moment he saw me.

Instead of shamelessly hitting on the bartender, however, I decided to be a good date for the rest of the evening, nodding gently to stories he told me and engaging in some lifeless banter about sports, spirits and school. He was nice, occasionally funny. He was so not my type that I desperately tried to subtly hint through the date that I wasn't willing to be anything more than friends with him.

We called it a night around 11:30 and as I was shaking his hand goodbye, in my head I was already wondering how to gently break it to him that I was not interested in him in THAT way, if he were to follow up on our date.

Sure enough, as he IMed me an hour later with a "Hey, next time we should go bowling!", I replied with a firm "Hey, I'm sorry, you're a good guy but I just wasn't feeling you like that."

You know what they say, to find a prince you have to kiss a lot of frogs first. But this time, this little froggie isn't getting smooched by me.

Thursday, November 29, 2007

Finals Week

I open one of my eyes and glare at my alarm clock that's squealing on my window sill.


My body still needs at least 3 more hours of sleep, but I know that sleep is not the kind of luxury I can afford right now. I twist and turn in my bed and cover my ears with a pillow. I can still hear it though.


I think of all the projects due the beginning of next week. I think of how I am afraid of failure. I think of how I need to get up and study for a quiz in my environmental technologies class. I think of my friends back at home and how much I miss them. I think of my fluffy little cat I could just pick up and hug and feel his fur tickle my nose when I kiss him. I think of my many failed relationships with men and how that cliche saying that all women are attracted to assholes must be true, because I am one of those women. I think of how I'm tired of wanting to get revenge on the Asshole from a few weeks ago, because even though it feels good, I just don't have the time or the energy to make him hurt. Because really, I am SO over him.

The last very intense couple of days of work have almost been an escape for me, in a crazy sadistic way. I tire myself out to a point of not wanting to think about anything else. Thing that usually bothers me, the usual worries that loom above my head fade out into the background. It's just me and my project. Mullions, acetate, vellum, mylar, and all the architectural terms I would have otherwise never learned if I'd chosen some other profession are words that my vocabulary currently revolves around.


I slam the snooze button with my fist. The clock immediately shuts up, but instead of closing my eyes again and going back to sleep, I slowly rise in my bed.

Okay, okay, I'm up.

Friday, November 16, 2007

On Getting Revenge

I would go into a detailed description of my past weekend and my couple of dates with a guy I started seeing recently. I would tell about our outing on Friday night and our many drinks and laughs we shared in my favorite bar in Cincinnati. I would also tell about our trip to the movies the next day and how he held my hand in the darkness of the movie theater. Then, I would tell about our lavish dinner that same night and how when he left the next day to go back to his home town, he smiled ever so charmingly and said, "I really like you" before driving away.

I walked away happy that day, after sending him off on his way home. Except that I didn't know that it would be the last time I'd ever see him. And why would I choose not to ever see him after an amazingly blissful weekend? Because he, as it turns out, had a little agenda of his own. And I found out about that agenda using the good ol' internet search engine.

Monday, November 12:
It was unusual for him not to call me today since previously he would call every day for two weeks, sometimes even twice during the same day. I knew something was up, as I had already had a similar experience with a different guy back in June. I decided to brush my fears and IM him that night with a cheeful hello (aka hello with a smiley face). He replied back and we had a very brief, very dry conversation.
"Don't take it personally," he wrote, "I just have a lot to do this week for my night classes and work. I am so tired."

I wished him luck on his project and with that he signed off. His excuse worked on me this time, and I, as any reasonable person would surely do, decided to give him more time. Maybe he'd pay more attention to me and return to his old affectionate self after he got all the stress factors out of the way. Maybe.

Tuesday, November 13:

He had not called or emailed at all today. I IMed him again after he signed on online. The conversation went in a very similar manner as the previously day though. He was tired, stressed out, whatever. I was trying to be understanding again, but I was getting impatient. What happened to the sweet, adorable guy he was just days ago?

Wednesday, November 14:

All day I was hoping he'd call. Around noon, it dawned upon me that perhaps I should stop hoping. After he signed onto AIM that night and hadn't IMed me in more than an hour, I finally stopped hoping. Of course, I was also very pissed at that point, so I sent him a message:

"Are you serious? You are not gonna talk to me at all?"

He replied with a cold, "I only signed on briefly to talk to my friend about an apartment. So no, I'm going to bed now."

"Yeah, whatever," was all I could say back.

Thursday, November 15:

I received a message on Facebook from a guy who friended me on there a while ago, for one reason or another. He saw my rather angry status message in his News Feed ("Laundramatic is sick of bullshit") and asked what was wrong. I spilled my guts to him about everything, because I needed someone to talk to. He said that if I wanted to grab a drink with him later on, he'd be more than happy to take me out. I told him that that may happen sometime down the road... but not now. I wasn't ready.

That afternoon I sent the douchebag my last email, "Thanks for acting like a total asshole. I didn't expect that from you." OF COURSE, I didn't get a reply back.

Bored and angry, I did an online search of his full name and came upon an unexpected and unsettling discovery. Turns out, he's a member of a certain dating site and I saw him and other girls leaving each other flirtatious comments on a message board. This was happening all throughout our brief dating period and continued to that very moment. There were also talks between him and one girl of meeting up offline. Oh no, he didn't!

That night I put things in a perspective because I was tired of being angry. At least I didn't waste as much time on this asshole as I did on Mr X. I could just forget and move on, except that I wanted to teach the douche a lesson....

I created a profile on the said dating website under a false name. With false information. False location. False attributes. Everything 100% fake. A good friend volunteered to help and provided me with two of her pictures so I could add some legitimacy to my fake posting. Now my profile was complete. All I had left to do was send the scumbag a message and wait.

"Hey, I just wanted to let you know that I think you're adorable ;)"

Not too suggestive, slightly flirtatious, inviting of a response - I've created a bait.

Friday, November 16:

There was one new message in my Alter Ego's mail box today from none other than the asshole.
"You're pretty hot yourself. i'm in X University this weekend for the football game let me write you back on sunday."

He took the bait. Now it's my turn to have a little fun.

Tuesday, November 6, 2007

What Goes Around...

So many things happened in a matter of just over a week. But first thing's always first: I got my dream job!

It is for the duration of the winter and summer quarters and I will be working from Cincinnati heping with the design of the largest resort in Las Vegas. The pay isn't much... in fact, I negotiated for my hourly salary to be raised by a dollar and it still isn't much. But this job is an amazing opportunity for me to get my foot in the door of the entertainment business. I ultimately want to design upscale hotels, casinos and nightclubs all over the world.

This job offer also gave me an enormous morale boost. My ego's been stroked and I feel of tremendous value to the world. One of the top architectural firms in the country hired me, and it will only get better from here. Time to do the happy dance!

Moving onto the more private, yet no less exciting, matters of my love life: Just last week after writing one of my blog posts about the flaky guy I was seeing, I realized that I needed to be treated way better than I was. I called Flaky out on the fact that he never calls when he says he would, and I don't have the time, nor the energy to play games. He sounded stunned and taken aback by my direct and blunt confrontation, and he mumbled something about being busy and not having any money. You know, excuses, and all the stuff I just did not want to hear.

Today Flaky called me after six days of not contacting me to "catch up". Pshhht, catch up my ass. He told me he paid off over 1000 dollars of his debt this week and that he's got some lucrative business presentations coming up next week. I didn't care. I wasn't impressed.

Little does Flaky know that I've already moved on and am now seeing a new guy. I will not get into details for this is all so very new, but I will say that he is coming to Cincinnati for a three day weekend, starting this Friday, and if everything goes well, I will post about him in more detail next week.

I feel slightly guilty for possibly leading Flaky on, in the fact that I haven't told him about the new guy I am seeing, and I also told him to give me a call later if he wants. But, he brought it upon himself. He's had me hanging on a string for a few days too long. Now it's his turn.

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Mission [IM]Possible

Today is a very important day. Today is the day I go for my interview at The Firm of My Dreams that specializes in hospitality architecture (casinos, hotels and restaurants) - just the industry I want to work in. Today, I will wear my sharpest-looking outfit and grab my portfolio, along with my resume and a few construction documents and head over to the Firm's office downtown, hoping that I will absolutely dazzle everyone with my impressive knowledge of everything architecture.

This job is the job that could open up doors, windows and gateways for me in terms of working in designing casinos. I am surprisingly calm and ready for battle. Yesterday I practiced what I would say at my interview for an hour. I will punch myself in the face if I mess the interview now.

To slightly complicate things, there are five other people going for the same job, including the Asshole - a douchey know-it-all senior in the undergrad program. My Nemesis, if you will. He's condescending and he often acts like he knows more than, gasp, us - the grad students. This man must be stopped and I am on a mission to put him back into his place.

Let's just hope that I don't fall flat on my face.

Friday, October 26, 2007

Three Weeks

I woke up this morning with a sinking feeling in my stomach that I know, no matter how hard I will try to ignore, will persistently bother me for the rest of the day. No, I don't have diarrhea or a virus, or an upset stomach. I have an upset heart. Yet again. It's just that every time I am emotionally overwhelmed (whether it be in a positive or a negative way), those emotions seem to go straight to the bottom of my bowels where they create this sort of an ugly alternative to the butterflies-in-my-stomach feeling. But let's back up a little bit.

The guy I've been seeing for about three weeks now was extremely nice and considerate and everything a guy is supposed to be... at first. Up until a few days ago, everything was pretty much as close to perfect as it could get. I was enjoying that feeling to complete and total peacefulness that I haven't felt in a long time. Everything in my life was just right. But, of course, all good things must come to an end.

It all began a few days ago (Tuesday) when the guy called me after one of my classes. Nothing weird happened then. the conversation went fine but the weird thing was... as I was talking to him, I began to feel this strange sinking feeling. I felt like I was trying to desperately hold on to something that was slipping away right from under my fingers. That feeling grew more persistent when that night, for the first time in three weeks, the guy didn't call when he said he would. There were no phone calls from him the next day either.

The feeling was now pretty overwhelming. I couldn't shake it off as I went from class to class that day. I couldn't help but check my phone from time to time for missed phone calls and that night I almost jumped out of my seat when I heard my phone vibrate in my bag. My heart was beating like crazy as my fingers anxiously wrapped around the smooth sleek surface of my Samsung M510 and I looking at the incoming call on my cell phone's light-up screen.

Incoming call from... Mom

I felt silly and foolish and all sorts of stupid at that moment. I wanted to yell and scream at myself for becoming overly attached to someone I had barely known for three damn weeks. But, most of all, I wanted that feeling back. That feeling I am addicted to because I never get enough of it. That feeling of dating someone new and being completely certain that they like you too and that they are, indeed, going to call you when they say they would.

So that was Wednesday. On Thursday, he called to inform me that he lost his cell phone when he was drunk on Tuesday night and that is why he hasn't called. He said he would call back later on, after he got off work. Surprise, surprise, he never called.

So, I kind of wonder: if he ever calls again, should I even bother answering? I mean, yes I like him. I mean, I REALLY like him. But I don't want to be sitting around and constantly checking my phone in hopes that maybe he will call. I've got other stuff that I should spend my energy worrying about. Like, that paper that's due Monday. Or that project that's due Monday. Or that other paper that's due Monday. Oh my God, Monday is going to suck!

I just don't understand why men do this. Why they pull back like that, with no explanations and reasons to do so. Am I dating the wrong type? Or am I the problem?

Sunday, October 14, 2007

Late Night Confessions/Make Out Sessions

I can honestly say that sleeping alone in my bed has, for the most part, been a preference rather than a consequence. Even when I (briefly) lived with the Ex and we shared the same bed, from time to time I'd get the urge to sleep by myself. To be able to roll around in my sleep like a pig in a puddle of mud (okay, bad analogy, but those pigs always look so damn happy), to not hear any snoring, coughing and general weird noises people make when they sleep is, indeed, nirvana to me.

But last night I was lying in a new guy's arms, wondering what's gonna come of it, fearing that this would be the last time I see him, thinking how, just for him, I could get used to falling asleep like this every night.

We had a wonderful second date last night that concluded with me sleeping over at his house. Fully clothed (shorts and t-shirts), we laid next to each other. The whole house was asleep but we talked and talked and I giggled and he kept calling me cute. Ah, the little things that set my heart aflutter.

"Tell me a secret," he whispers. I can barely make out his facial features in the dark, so I move in a little closer.

"A secret? Like, what do you want to know in particular?" I avoid the question. In general, a bed is not really that great of a meeting room for revelations.

"Well, what are you thinking right now?"

Still slightly tipsy from those drinks he got me at a bar a few hours earlier, I give him a bold response, "I am kind of thinking about how I want to make out with you."

God, I'm good. I just wish I could come up with shit like that when I'm sober too.

He moves in for a kiss and we make out for, oh, about two hours. Probably, my personal record to date but I always like to improve upon my past achievements.

All in all, I was reminded last night how pleasant it can be falling asleep and waking up in someone's arms and being showered with kisses. What was more pleasant, however, was his text message I got later on today that said "I had fun. I like kissing you." Maybe, just maybe, this is going somewhere :)

Oh boy, looks like I am developing quite a crush on this guy... Stay tuned.

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Wakey, Wakey!

Hello ,World,

It finally feels like the first day of fall and so I pulled one of my cashmere sweaters from the back of the closet and put it on as I started getting ready for my VERY EARLY (9:30 am, for God's sake - so early, even for a grad student!) class. I've been dreaming of the day when it would be cool and crisp enough outside so I could finally wear this particular sweater. I bought it a few weeks ago but today, finally today, seemed like the perfect occasion for an outfit that included the said sweater.

Except that it is turning out to be itchy as hell. Here I am sitting at my desk and updating my blog in haste, while rolling up my sleeves and scratching my arms and elbows in glorious fury. I am being poked, nay, stabbed by the "delicate" threads of the beloved sweater and I am beginning to feel like I have a rash all over my body (upper body, to be exact).

So to address my sweater directly, in futile hopes of dissuading it of torturing me for the rest of the day (cause, damn it, it's still beautiful and I simply refuse to wear something else today):

Dear Sweater,

I will first of all tell you that, surely, we will have many wonderful days this fall which you and I will look back on a few years from now with a smile. I am sure that after few washes in my apartment bulding's "state-of-the-art" washer/dryer system, you will soften up a bit and will no longer threaten to torture me with you machine-woven unpleasantries. Lastly, I am SURE that I will thank you many a times when it's cold outside and I have nothing but you on, that I indeed, have something other than a bra on to protect me from bitter cold. But for now, dear Sweater, I am rather frustrated and irritated by the way you deliberately decided to test just what color of red my skin can turn if I incessantly scratch it all throughout the day. Frankly, I find it rude and inconsiderate. And I know that I should have expected you to be a bit of a diva. After all, I did pick you up at The Limited "Not-On-Sale-But-Still-Terribly-Hip-Fall-2007-Collection"... After all you do make me look like a sophisticated, yet youthful grad student who drinks Cabarnet by day but is not above drink Natty Light either (sometimes one right after another)...

On second thought, yes, it's all my fault. I apologize, dear Sweater, and from now on I will shut my mouth and try to endure the pain and discomfort it takes to be ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL. Thanks, Sweater!!

Your BFF (at least until next fall's sweaters come out),


Saturday, September 29, 2007

Sometimes When I'm Bored...

...I write poetry. Mostly it's because I'm overwhelmed with emotions and I have no one around me to confide. This time I was listening to Pandora radio and You Got Me by The Roots came on. This song is one of the most meaningful to me, not only because it talks about a potentially lost love opportunity and Philadelphia - two things I know a lot about, two things that often came hand-in-hand, but also because it's just such a damn good song. So after I listened to the song, I was inspired to write the following:

An Architect's Melancholies

Somebody told me that this planet was small
we used to live in the same city, practically next door
And never met before until I'm in a different state, apart
and when I left, I left you pieces of my heart

My hands and heart are cold, and you I try to quit
these thoughts of you still linger, though I can't admit
to anyone how much I need you, that I even could
and try to put you first before a block of wood

Or metal beam, mahogany, or sunlight's gleam
or Gesso, Autocad and travertine
but let me down to Earth and listen
This planet might seem tiny from a distance

But as I look up to the stars that twinkle
you're gone, light years away, you're just a wrinkle
in folds of memory that fade with time
but oh my god, how do I wish that I could make you mine

my thoughts are my best time machine
and back to Philly I transport within
I find your place, you smile as you see me at the door.
All else? Irrelevant. I couldn't ask for more.

Saturday, September 22, 2007

Football, anyone?

I am going to my very first football game EVER tonight. Isn't it crazy? I've never been to a single football game, college or pro. Perhaps, it's because the school I went to for my undergraduate degree did not have a stellar football team, but then again, I should have went and showed my support anyway, right?

Regardless of my past wrong doings, I am going to make it all right tonight and show my loyalty to my new home - the University of Cincinnati and the sports team that everyone worships here - the Cincinnati Bearcats. I even bought and shirt with the team logo on it.

I just wish I wasn't still recovering from last night's drinking and carousing. But I swear, I shall gather all my strength and be the best college football fan I can be. Go Bearcats!

Now if you excuse me, I must go straighten my hair, cover up a blemish with my concealer and birghten up my face with a moderate amount of blush. For you see, a certain guy is going to be working at the game tonight, and if I run into him ("accidentally", of course), I want to make sure that I am the prettiest Bearcat fan in his immediate vicinity.

Saturday, September 15, 2007

Say It Right

I answer. “I knew it was love because it was enough to just be in love with him, you know? I didn’t care at all if he loved me back because just the feeling loving him felt so good.”

-Anonymous Blogger

There once upon a time was this boy...

He had killer dance moves, a radiant smile, a badass style, and amazing-smelling hair. At least, I think his hair smelled amazing... I never got that close to him to find out.

He made my heart skip a beat every time I saw him and I would go places I knew he went to, just to watch him from afar. He was the one who told our only mutual friend that he thought I was cute. I found out about it and I thought to myself, "Fuck, why do I have a boyfriend? I really like this guy." Yes, I had a boyfriend at a time but that night when I found out this other guy liked me, I regretted being in a relationship more than anything in my life.

In my defense... well, there's nothing really I can say in my defense. It was what it was. I developed the biggest crush on a guy who was not my boyfriend. But, the boyfriend and I had other problems before the new guy came along. I suppose, it was just the universe's way of confirming that I no longed wanted to be in a relationship. But I shouldn't be making excuses.

I broke up with the boyfriend, because I couldn't get the guy with killer dance moves out of my head. He lingered on my mind pretty much 24/7, and I was unable to think about anything or anyone else. All of the sudden, I became an irrational ball of emotions. Every Monday I wished it was Friday already, so I could go to the club down by the river to see him there. When we did see each other, we usually exchanged a few words, a couple of glances, and just once, a dance. He told me me I looked damn good in my halter top that night and I was impressed that he noticed my new shoes. He liked me, I thought while laying in my bed that night unable to fall asleep. Goddamn, he was the most gorgeous man I had ever laid my eyes on.

Then, in a blink of an eye, it was over. The guy was apparently over me, and summer of '06 was over as well. The club down by the river closed for the fall and since it was the only place I knew that the guy with the killer moves went to on a regular basis, there was no way for me to see him again.

I guess, in a sense, he wasn't anything special. We didn't have an emotional connection, and we never shared even a single substantial conversation. It was a one hundred percent physical attraction, and before meeting him, I would have laughed at the very notion of me falling for someone based on purely physical attributes.

Does this make me a bad, superficial person? I don't know. I don't feel like I've done anything wrong. Some may say that I sacrificed a long term relationship with a boyfriend for someone I barely knew. But I say that (I'd like to believe that) it all happened for a reason - I needed to be single. Single life's been good to me, and this past year was definitely the best year of my life. Albeit my sex life became pretty much nonexistant. Nevertheless, the break-up was a good idea; the reasons for it may not have been.

So, how do I feel about the guy with the killer dance moves now? It took a long ass time for me to get over him. Took me too long to give up the hope that he might start pursuing me again. I miss the idea of him. That idea of a hot boy next door who might, just might, be my potential soulmate.

Thursday, September 13, 2007


A substantial update is coming soon, as I have finally moved to Cincinnati and am now pretty much driving myself bonkers with registations, miscellaneous errands, money transferrals, and other crap. For now, however, I would like to relay one of my first encounters with the male species of this fine city. A gem of a pick up line, if you will... he says to me:

" In Old Testament times, the bowels were considered the seat of the emotions. Imagine what kind of pickup lines they used.

Baby, you really move my bowels."

How swell, no?

Oh Cincinnati... I think, after all the commotion settles down and I meet a few new friends, I'm gonna like it here. Only time will tell.

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

An End of an Era

A lot of lasts today. Last full day of work. Last lunch with co-workers. They even bought me a strawberry cake and a gift (though I still don't know what it is - it's supposed to arrive at the firm tomorrow), and made me a card. Not a lot of people can say that they look forward to waking up every morning and going to work, but I am not one of those people. Every single day, even if I was hung over, still exhausted from a night of partying, I'd wake up and literally jump out of my bed in an anticipation of work.

The pay did not exactly allow me to roll around in hundred dollar bills, but there was always plenty of overtime and I did not mind staying late. In fact, every time I was needed to stay and work at night, I was happy to do it. You know why? Because I actually enjoyed my job.

Of course, I have my reasons for continuing my education and going to graduate school. I want to both grow professionally, and be able to take on more challenging tasks. I will be able to move onto managerial positions more quickly. And yes, with a Master's degree I will be able to afford a more luxurious style of living.

However, as sappy and cliche as it sounds, the lessons that I have learned at my very first architectural firm that took a chance on me - a college graduate with practically no related experience, will live on with me forever. Before interviewing with the firm I ended up working for for 1.5 years, I had a lot of other job interviews at other places, but I truly believe that this firm was the best choice for me.

In my card, one of my co-workers wrote to me (the note was written upside down): "We hope to see your work one day in Architectural Record, perhaps even on the cover. Life sometimes seems to turn everything upside down, so I send you this note as an early effort to get you used to the effect. I am sure you will succeed no matter what."

God, it's always so hard to leave good things behind.

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Forgive or Forget

Today I woke up still livid from the events that happened the night before. Now I am not the one to talk shit about my parents, but last night kind of did it for me.

Now, my situation for this summer is that I am living with the family until it’s time for me to sail away to graduate school across the country. I was living with a roommate prior to this, but the lease came to an end on May 15th and instead of looking for another apartment for 3 months, I made a decision to move back with my parents. I figured 3 months wasn’t long enough to start butting heads. Boy, was I wrong.

My parents and I use the same email provider – Gmail. I was actually the one who introduced my parents to the wonders of emailing just a little over a year ago. I insisted they get with the program and get an email account, since, for crying out loud, it was 2007 and it was about damn time.

I frequently use my parents computer to check my email and most of the time, I tend to leave the window open without signing out.

Yesterday, while I was at work, my mother decided that it was a lovely idea to go through my emails that, in her opinion, had questionable and personal content. She, then, left me a distressed voice mail saying simply that we “needed to have a talk.”

Later on in the evening, she proceeded to tell me how she opened one of my emails between me and the boy I have a vague romantic interest in. The email was fairly flirtatious, but by no means X-rated in nature. That wasn’t the point, however. The point was that she violated my privacy and trust and acted as if she had the right to do that.

A year ago, I moved out of my ex-boyfriend’s apartment because he started having trust issues with me. He found out my email password and started going through my emails, much like my mother did yesterday. My ex did it repeatedly, even after I asked him not to do it and changed passwords. This type of violation of privacy is a very sensitive subject to me to this day, and I can’t tolerate anyone doing that to me ever again. My mother knew the whole story with the ex. She chose to do the same thing he did anyway, without a doubt knowing how much she would hurt me in the process.

I don’t hold grudges, and I am a firm believer that the sooner one can get past an argument, the better it will be. What my mother did, however, stripped me away from all the trust I had in her. It wouldn’t make a difference if she read an email in which I talked about puppies or an email in which I admitted to having an orgy with 27 men. It made all the difference in the world that instead of closing the window, she chose to read every email between me and this guy, thread after thread, and then acting like it was her God-given right to disrupt my personal life like that.

I had never ever disrespected someone’s privacy like that. I don’t have much tolerance for anyone who does that to me. I thought I would feel more calm about the situation today, but the truth is, I probably won’t be able to look, let alone speak, to my mother when I see her tonight. I don't want to say a word to her because I will find no kind words to say. I just simply don't know what an appropriate reaction to her actions would be, nor do I care to explore the idea of trying to reason with her until I hear an apology.

Thursday, August 2, 2007


There was only one reason, as far as I was concerned, to take a Math 103 class at 6:30 every Tuesday and Thursday night when I was a freshman, and that reason was the total dreamboat who would routinely sit at the desk to my right during every class.

He would always show up for class five minutes late, his hair slightly messy from the track team practice. He would slip into the classroom through the back door, unnoticed by everyone including the absent-minded professor. He never carried a bookbag, simply a notebook and a pencil in his hand. He didn't believe in bringing a textbook to class. If he needed to look at a problem we were working on, he could simply borrow the book from me.

I had a total of one, and only one, conversation with him. That fateful night, we were both early for our class and the room was locked, so we were forced to wait it out in the hallway. He introduced himself to me and asked why I was taking math 103 instead of 104. Because I didn't do so well on the placement test, I said to him, slightly embarrassed. That's ok, neither did I, he replied casually. It was love. We were meant to be.

However, our unspoken love affair never went any farther. It was getting close to the end of the semester and I was a bit frustrated with the lack of progression in our relationship. I had to take matters into my own hands.

I searched for his name on Facebook and, luckily, there were only two people in the entire school with the same first and last name as him. One was a grad student majoring in African Studies. Another one was the man of my dreams himself. Well, he didn't have a picture up but I had to assume it was him since his graduation year and major corresponded to what he told me.

So my 18-year old self wrote a rather clumsy email which, and I kid you not, went something like this, "Hey, I think you're totally hot." Gosh, I was such a smooth talker. I made sure that I created an anonymous email address so that he wouldn't know who his secret admirer was at first. I was afraid of rejection.

I was a bit disappointed when I didn't hear from him in a couple of days. How could he resist my blatant praise of his gorgeousness. But I wasn't about to give up that easily. I emailed him again three days later with this little gem. "Hey, I know you haven't replied to my previous email, but I still think you're hot." He replied back two hours later with a rather rude "Who is this? Is this a joke?" I had no choice but to coyly reveal my identity. "We take pre-calc together and we talked a few times.I find you very attractive," I wrote, abandoning all sense of dignity. What he wrote back, however, really hit me hard. "I'm really flattered, but I'm not in any pre-calc classes this semester. You must be mistaking me for someone else."
The next day was our MATH103 final exam. I showed up early and handed in my exam early. On my way out of the classroom, I glanced at the man of my dreams one last time. He was looking back with a faint knowing smile. He was silently letting me know that he, in fact, was the guy who received my love emails. He was letting me know that he was rejecting me, despite our undeniable math class connection. Ouch.
Two weeks later, my spring semester started and I had a new man of my dreams. We took a writing class together, and he was so deep and profound and from Los Angeles. It was love all over again.

Monday, July 30, 2007

I Can Handle This...I Think

(it's official. This is my future home.)

I am basking in the glory of the mid-Monday afternoon sun. Content with the realization that in less than five weeks I will be essentially starting a new life, I let the waves of panic and urgency subside. It's all going to be okay. I've been longing for a change for some time now, and not just a tiny change.. but more like a life-altering experience, because, to be honest, no matter how good I feel my life is right now, I've become bored with this city, with the same people I keep running into wherever I go. I need something new. I need something better.

I didn't go away to college five years ago like many of my peers did. I stayed and home and commuted which was a rather dreadful experience. I always regreted not living on campus, not participating in a campus life, and now I get a chance to live out my dream. My time has finally come and I am very excited. Who will I meet? What awaits me as I move to this new city, knowing absolutey no one, with a car packed full of my favorite outfits, an ironing board and a handful of architecture books?
A few years ago I wanted to get a tattoo of a word "BREATHE" somewhere on my upper back to remind myself to stop, take a moment and do just that - breathe - once in a while. Then, I found out that Lindsay Lohan got the same damn tattoo on her wrist. How edgy of her. So today my body is still 100% ink-free and I know now that I don't need to make a Post-It note out of myself to remind of what I need to do. Now I am taking a time-out here in my parents' quiant little backyard, taking time to reflect, calm down, and most importantly, to breathe.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

To Call or Not to Call

I turned the ringer of my phone off just before I went to bed last night. Otherwise, I would have been woken up by a phone call from a guy I met about ten days ago at one of my favorite clubs.

That night was quite a blur but I still remember quite a lot. In particular, I remember a very good-looking man flirting with me on a dance floor and inviting me to sit down in the lounge area so we could get to know each other better. He seemed like a smooth talker and a player but I was quite buzzed and the conversation between him and me flowed nicely. He ended up getting my number at the end of the night and promised to call during the following week.

Frankly, I haven't mentioned him at all so far because I did not expect him to call me. To me, it was just another night of dancing with a cute guy. A cute guy who I wasn't particularly interested in getting to know outside of the club scene. A cute guy with whom to exchange pleasantries and cocktails. Nothing more, nothing less.

So after a week of no phone calls, I had pretty much forgotten about the guy, going about my usual daily routine and not really telling anyone about my casual club encounter with him.

I am extremely surprised that he called last night. My first thought was that he was just drunk-dialing random people in his phone book, but after listening to the voicemail he left me, I decided that he sounded very sober. It was no accident. He actually MEANT to call me.

"Hey, this is Club Guy," I heard, as I was checking my voicemail on the way to work this morning, "I'm sorry for not calling you sooner. I actually misplaced my phone for a while and it's a funny story how I got it back. I wanted to ask you out for a cup of coffee or drinks, so if you are interested my number is xxx-xxx-xxxx."

A) I didn't buy the Misplaced Phone excuse, not even for one second. I wasn't born yesterday. All he was doing is waiting it out for a week and trying not to look desperate by calling the next day, or he had another girl he was trying to hook up with and that deal didn't work out, so I was a Plan B. Forgive me for being a tad cynical here – this guy just strikes me as SUCH a player.

B) I want to call him back, because I am attracted to him. I am not looking for anything serious at this point anyway, just a few casual dates, just someone to waste what little time I have left in this city. I have seven weeks left here, and then I'm packing up and moving nine hours away. No sense in sparking serious romance here.

My finger is hovering mere millimeters above the "Talk" button on my cell phone and I'm in a limbo as to what I should do. I mean, there is no harm in having one drink with a guy, right?

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Clearly, I Chose a Wrong Career Path

A few weeks ago, a couple of my friends and I were out at a lounge discussing the meaning of life, shoes and all that important stuff. DJ, Best Friend and I noticed an obviously gay man checking us out from a distance. He was leaning against the bar and blatantly starring at us, occasionally exchanging candid whispers with his friend.

When I went up to the bar to get a drink, the gay dude tapped me on my shoulder,

“Excuse me, can I ask you a question?”

I glared at him, giving him the it-better-be-good-or-I’m-leaving look.

“So this might sound weird, but can I ask you what you do for a living?” he implored.

“Aaaaand why do you want to know?” I asked with suspicion.

“Well, you see, I have this talent for guessing people’s professions just by judging them on their looks, and my friend and I wanted to know if I was right about you and your friends.”

Oh. This was going to be pure gold - I could already feel that. I needed to hear what the guy had to say.

“Okay, so what do you think we all do?”

“Well,” he began, pointing his finger in a direction of DJ, “He probably works as a graphic designer.”

I was impressed. He actually got that one right.

“Okay, okay…” I was interested in what he had to say about Best Friend, “Go on.”

“She is a secretary,” he said, referring to Best Friend who was too busy taking shots to notice that our conversation was revolving around her now.

Very close. She’s an administrative assistant. Just another technical term for secretary.

“What about me?” I was very curious now.

He eyed me up and down, as if to double check his preconceived notions and said, with much certainty in his voice, “You look like you work at Abercrombie&Fitch.”

“I am an architect, sweetheart,” I rolled my eyes and grabbed my drink, getting ready to get back to my friends.

“No way. Really?”

“Yeah… looks like your talent is not a talent after all,” I smirked, masking my disappointment.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with working at Abercrombie&Fitch. Hollister, PacSun or any other surf-themed shops, but you can’t deny that there are certain stereotypes of people who work in those stores. For guys, it’s blonde-haired, blue-eyed Adonises who are more concerned with spending time at the beach or working on their already chiseled abs at the gym. For girls, it’s (again) blonde-haired airheads with seashell necklaces, dark tans and perfectly manicured nails. Not exactly, an image of an intellectual elite.

But hey, it goes to show that it’s never a good idea to judge a book by its cover. For all that I know, those faithful surf shop employees could very well turn out to be the future leaders of our country. Unlikely, I know, but not impossible.

Monday, July 16, 2007

DJ Douche and Co

Take a look at the picture above and note the guy's outfit. The story below pretty much centers around it. Aside note: The girl in a beautiful green dress is me. Now on with the story.

On Saturday the much anticipated trip to Atlantic City finally took place. It was the 1 year anniversary of club mur.mur at the Borgata casino and DJ AM was supposed to be the celebrity DJ. I have never heard any of his stuff but he’s a fairly big celebrity so I figured he couldn’t have been that bad.

After a 1.5 hour drive, we arrived up at the Borgata around 10pm, thinking that we’d have some time to gamble and then leisurely stroll into the club and perhaps even snap a few pictures of DJ AM doing his thing on the turn tables.

Well, much to our dismay and horror, the line to the club stretched for what seemed like a mile from the entrance door down past the slot machines and poker tables, wrapped around a couple of corners and was, as a very good-looking casino employee informed me, “2 hours long.”

Instead of panicking and getting discouraged, my friends and I ordered a few drinks at a nearby bar, and proceeded to the end of the line. It was only 10 pm after all and the clubs in AC never close. We still had a whole night ahead of us. Plus, the wait is always shorter when there is a good buzz going.

About an hour into our wait, we made some decent progress advancing in line and could actually see the entrance to mur.mur, when a woman who was in charge of the guest list/admission walked up to us.

“How many of you guys?” she asked as she stopped dangerously close next to me, with her silicone boobs invading my space. I had to take a step back.

“Four,” my friend Glam Girl replied, pointing to her boyfriend, me and another friend.

DJ AM’s Ho eyed Glam Girl’s boyfriend up and down suspiciously.

“Um, well, you ladies are fine but you do know that in order to get in, the gentleman needs to wear a collared shirt AND dress shoes, right?” she seemed clearly disgusted with Glam Girl’s man’s get up which consisted of a very cute (in my opinion) T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. As she said that, she waltzed away in her seven inch heels. Ugh, what a buzz kill.

“Okay, okay…” Glam Girl wanted to freak out but was doing her best to contain herself, “We’ll just go to a store and get a collared shirt.”

“But what about the dress shoes?” my friend, Ms. Hawaii chimed in.

“Shit,” Glam Girl was now in full-on panic mode,” I don’t even know if there are any stores around here that sell shoes.”

“You guys can go in without me…” Glam Girl’s boyfriend had a look of guilt and embarrassment on his face, “ I don’t want to keep you from going to the club.”

Ms. Hawaii suddenly gasped. She had an idea.

“Guys! Perfect solution! I’m going to go to Lost and Found and see if they have any shoes that anyone lost!”

The three of us looked at Ms. Hawaii with much skepticism. What are the odds of Lost and Found having a pair of shoes that are dressy enough and in Glam Girl Boyfriend’s size? Hell, what are the odds of someone losing shoes at a casino??

But we let her go do some asking around anyway. What was the worst that could happen?

The boyfriend, meanwhile, kept apologizing profusely. I felt bad for the guy. It wasn’t his fault that DJ Douche decided to impose a Nazi-esque dress code on everyone. I, personally, in all the promo pictures I’ve seen of DJ AM, have never seem him wear a shirt with a collar. What a hypocrite he was for wanting everyone else to conform to an unnecessary dress code. Even worse, I thought the boyfriend’s outfit choice was very reminiscent of the type of clothes Adrian Grier can be seen wearing on HBO's Entourage. Slightly laid back, but by no means something you would just wear around your house.

After about twenty minutes, Ms. Hawaii came back with no shoes. Big surprise there. At least she tried.

“I can’t let you not go in because of me…” Glam Girl’s boyfriend started again, but I had to interject at that moment.

“Look.... let’s just all go to Mixx. It’s right around the corner. I’ve been there before: it's a great club and they don’t have a strict dress code. DJ AM is missing out on the four hottest people in all of Atlantic City and none of us really even knows his music. Seriously, it’s HIS loss for not letting us in.”

“…Are you sure? You’re not just saying this to make me feel better?” the boyfriend still didn’t seem too convinced.

“Yeah. DJ AM can suck it. I would never leave any of my friends out in the cold, so to speak, while I’m dancing at some club to some guy’s music. Let’s go.”

So there it was. When life gave us lemons, we made lemonade. The wait in line for Mixx was only 20 minutes. The club was still packed and the music was as dance-worthy as ever. And as for DJ AM? He needs to come back down to earth and realize that just because someone isn’t wearing a shirt with a collar that he can pop, doesn’t mean that that person should not be able to get into his parties.

Your loss, AM. You missed out on some kick-ass people this weekend.


I've been so busy this past week and I had to put in a LOT of overtime at work. But I have a bunch of good stories to tell and I will start posting again today or tomorrow.

Sunday, July 8, 2007

Blast From the Past

The first time I fell in love I was about sixteen years old and I remember the feeling being so intense and overwhelming that I would sometimes cry at night. At first, they were tears of happiness, and then tears of frustration and hopelessness, because, yes, after four months of a very close friendship and the guy confessing that he "was so in love with me", he asked someone else out, literally, two weeks after he professed his love for me. I actually still talk to the dude online once in a while. He lives in a London suburb now, and has a wife, a house and a dog.

He and I reconnected after about four years of not speaking to each other. The only reason we started talking again is because about a year and a half ago I found his email address saved in my old Yahoo! email account and I was curious to find out how the guy was doing. I sent him an email thinking that there was no way that he still used the same account, but to my surprise I received a reply back from him. He was ecstatic to hear from me after all those years. He was nice and pleasant and even sophisticated now, very unlike the seventeen year old teenager I remembered him being the last time I spoke to him.

We exchanged pictures since we were both curious what we looked like now. He was quite handsome, and I seemed to have made quite an impression on him as well. In his own words, "Well, well. You turned into a knockout, didn't ya?"

Over the period of about a year in a half we talked frequently online, mostly during work since, surprisingly enough, his work schedule in the UK and mine here in the US corresponded with each other. I was pretty happy to discover that I no longer had any romantic feelings for him (it would be quite sad if I did after all these years, right?) and I guess it was a form of closure for me. However, I was saddened and even a little disturbed by his passion-less stories of his married life. Again, in his own words, the sex life was "so-so". The whole marriage seemed to me mundane and boring.

I suppose I wish I had a scandalous story to tell in which the guy falls in love with me, leaves his wife and London behind, flies over here and we elope in Vegas or something. Then his wife plots revenge on the home-wrecker who stole her husband (aka me) and hires a Sly Stalone look-alike to chase after me through the backstreets of LA with an ultimate goal being to kill me with his bare hands. I narrowly escape death on a daily basis and my life becomes that of seclusion and temptation. I soon thereafter fall out of love with the guy who left everything and everyone for me and I spiral downwards in a whirlwind of drug-induced midnight orgies in seedy hotels. That is, until a mysterious Samuel Jackson character saves me from a drug overdose only to make me realize that I have a bigger purpose in life. That is where I become a bounty hunter and finally find happiness.

But that wouldn't be my story, though yes, it would make for a great blog entry. And with all of the above being said, the dude still holds a very special place in my heart. After all, he will always, for the rest of my life. be my first love.

Monday, July 2, 2007

Being Single Has Its Perks

"How much is it?" I asked the bartender and pointed to the bottle of Miller Lite he just placed before me on the bar counter.

He smiled at me and his lip ring sparkled in the dim lights of the club. "It's on me," he said and walked away to continue his conversation with his co-worker who was texting someone on his Nokia. The bar area was slow last ngiht, and even the dance floor was not that crowded. I wondered if everyone went down to Jersey shore for the weekend.

I also wondered if it was just me or if the bartender was being flirtatious with me. As far as I knew he had a girlfriend who also worked at this same club in the winter as a coat check girl. Before I knew those two were going out, I actually got Coat Check Girl's number for my friend DJ, as he was too timid to ask her himself. That night I got drunk, and when I'm drunk I'm astonishingly brave so in those instances I always offer my friends to hit on the people they like. What can I say? I am a good friend.

After telling the Coat Check Girl that "my friend really likes you and was wondering if he could have her number", I was informed by her that while she thought DJ was cute, she was living with her ex-boyfriend who also a bartender at this very same club and they were trying to get back together but she really wasn't sure if she wanted him back... I stopped listening after she said she was living with the Bartender. I nodded and smiled and I still ended up getting the girl's number for DJ. They went out on one date while the girl was still living with the Bartender. One date and it was over. Hmm, I wonder why.

I stopped seeing her at the club after the weather got warmer and people didn't need to wear their jackets any more but the bartender remained, faithfully handing me Miller Lite - my usual first drink of the night - every time he saw me walking up to the bar. He would hand it to me and declare the price, either two or four dollars depending on whether or not there were any drink specials that night. Yesterday though, the drink was free. I didn't mind that price and I didn't mind the way he smiled at me just before he walked away. A cute guy, a little short and too many tattoos for my liking, but he had cute dimples and a nice body. Dimples and a six pack work for me.

I was supposed to meet DJ at the club but he was running late so I ended up sitting on my bar stool and texting my friend from Michigan for a long time. I managed to successfully avoid eye contact with a shady man sitting next to me by starring and typing away dilligently on my phone.

Around midnight the Bartender walked up to me and placed a shot glass with something clear in it. Vodka, perhaps? I smelled the liquid and was taken aback by the smell of alcohol hitting my nostrils.

"What is this?" I asked the Bartender.

"Patron," he pointed to a half-empty bottle of pricey tequila he just put back on the shelf.

"Ah, the good stuff," I said and then noticed the empty shot glass he was still holding in his hand, "Looks like you already drank your shot though. I'm not gonna do this one by myself. Come on, have another one with me."

The bartender laughed at my response and without saying another word, reached up to the shelf to grab the bottle of Patron. We both raised our shot glasses in a silent acknowledgement of each other and as the tequila hit my lips, I did my best not to grimace. Tequila was never my drink of choice but who was I to refuse a freebie.

I was about to say thank you, but I was rudely (thought I'm sure he didn't view it as a gesture of rudeness) interrupted by a short, stocky man whose name sounded like Merlot (I couldn't really hear him that well over the loud music). I didn't bother to ask him his name again, I didn't feel like he was worth investing the effort of the question in. Merlot, then, asked me if I liked the music that was playing at the club, and I replied that the music was the sole reason I came that night. We talked for a few minutes, the tequila was hitting me, and against my better judgement, I gave my screen name to Merlot upon his request. He asked for my number first but I made up some bull shit excuse about me not giving out my number easily. He insisted on getting my screen name though because he wanted me to see his "band" in NYC.

"We're gonna open up for Jedi Mind Tricks. You should come see us," he looked at me to see my reaction after he named dropped the name of a semi-famous hip-hop group. I didn't care. I didn't want to give Merlot the false hope that I was interested in going. Luckily, at that moment, I saw DJ making his way through the dance floor, looking around in search of me.

"Yeah, maybe...." I said, slowly getting up from my bar stool, "I gotta go say hi to my friend. You've got my screen name, right?"

"Sure, sure... I'll definitely IM you with more details... Come back and have a drink with me later on tonight..."

" 'Kay."

I'm sorry, Merlot. I'm sorry if I was leading you on. It wasn't me, it was the tequila talking.

Friday, June 29, 2007

Ain't That a Bitch...

Summer schedule at my work means that I get to work four nine hour days and on Friday, I get to get out at noon. Woo hoo! So, I already have an exciting little afternoon planned out for myself. An afternoon that will surely include shopping, trying on expensive outfits, checking price tags, gasping in horror, and timidly asking the sales representatives if the shirt is on sale or if 179.99 is, in fact, the actual price.

Here's the deal. I like following trends. All trends, including the most ridiculous ones ( of course at the time I didn't think they were ridiculous, it is NOW that I look at my pictures from four years ago and kind of wonder if I was slightly messed up in the head). But being trendy/stylish on a budget can be a tricky ordeal. I tend to pull it off though, most of the times.

Another thing is, I LOVE shoes. I think some of them, in all legitimacy, deserve to be put in a museum because they look like incredible works of art. My dilemma is that I can't actually buy those beautiful 4" heel shoes because, well, I'm 5'9 (pushing 5'10) and if I add another 4" to my height, I will look like I'm ready for the WNBA draft. In theory, of course, playing basketball professionally sounds like a lucrative idea, because then, I would surely have the money to shorten that long list of outfits I want to buy.

Despite these predicaments, however, I will ( and that's a promise) buy myself a head-turning, drool-worthy outfit for the weekend. You know, the kind that makes you feel like all the ex-boyfriends are weeping bitterly in the confines of their homes while you're out having the time of your life, because they are just beginning to realize that you were the best thing to ever happen to them, but they fucked up.

And speaking of fuck-ups, judging by mrX's away message today and yesterday, it appears that he has a date tonight. How do I know that? Because he had the same away message up before OUR second date. The bastard...

Tuesday, June 26, 2007

A Glimpse into My Future

Much like in Office Space, I have about seven immediate supervisors. Much like in the movie, sometimes I have to report and answer the same question up to seven times. Unlike the movie though, my job is actually fun and I like what I do, so I can tolerate the little quirks of my place of employment. Sometimes though, I can’t help but question the sanity and/or maturity levels of some of my lovely co-workers/supervisors who, in some cases, are forty years older than me.

Like the other day, one of my particularly zany bosses asked me to send an email to a partner in our Texas office. Now, this man has his own email account and is perfectly capable of sending his own emails. Nevertheless, he handed me a picture of a top of a roof of a historic building covered with pieces of chewing gum that landed on this said roof when people would spit them out of windows. I had to write the following caption:

“My chewing gum shot wasn't "gross" enough. Can you do any better?”

That will SO be me when I’m sixty.

Saturday, June 23, 2007

The Dating Machine

I am not going to lie - this week has been rough but I'm gradually feeling better and better every day. I am slowly recovering from the painful heartbreak and though I know I am not over mrX just yet, I will get there soon. Meanwhile, there have been two major developments in my personal life this week that sped up my healing process, so to speak - one I planned out and the other one happened completely spontaneously.

The first development I am talking about is taking control of the ugly situation and getting revenge. Ah, that sweet revenge on the douchebag who dared to play with my heart. Of course, I wasn't going to do anything over the top like going over to mrX's house in the middle of the night and vandalizing his car with my keys. However, after I realized that not only did he blocked me on Instant Messenger but he also de-friended me and my friend on Facebook, I knew that I just had to do something.

That evening, upon returning home from work, I sat down with my laptop, ready to execute my plan. I went to and without thinking twice proceeded to the Casual Encounters - m4m (male for male) section.

"Hey guys, I am home all alone and so bored. I would love for a hot sexy dude to call me up, because I am ready for some hot phone action. Reply to this ad and I will email you my phone number."

Well, frankly after I posted the ad, I was expecting all the horny gay men in the city to start emailing me back right away but I only got four responses, all of which were hours apart from one another. Of course, revenge is never easy, and I was happy with whatever responses I got. My reply to each and every email was:

"You sound like fun. My number is xxx-xxx-xxxx and my name is mrX... I will be expecting your call ;)"

Bottom line is: I got my revenge (at least I think I did), I didn't do any damage to any property in the process, and now mrX knows that he can't just fuck me over like that and get away. I'd pay money to see the look on his face when he received those phone calls from bored horny men. Maybe next time he's getting ready to pull his wam-bam-thank-you-ma'am act on an unsuspecting girl, he'll think twice.

Another development happened to me on Wednesday, while I was stuck in traffic on the way to work. It was a hot, humid morning, and I was sitting in my car in the middle of a highway, surrounded by a sea of other cars, not moving an inch. The morning commute is simply a bitch sometimes and I was feeling its bitchiness in its fullest. But then something happened that pretty much made my Wednesday.

"Hey, your tail light is out."

The voice was coming from a car next to me, on my left. I cautiously looked over and was pleasantly surprised to see an attractive man who seemed concerned enough to point out the problem with my car.

"Oh thank you... I didn't even realize that. Thanks."

And then we started up a conversation. For the first time in my life, I was actually happy that the cars in front of me weren't moving. I was enjoying making small talk with this guy and judging from a flirtatious smile on his face, he felt the same way. So when he asked me if I was single and if I am then could he have my number, I said yes to both.

As a matter of fact, I just got back from a lovely low-key date with this man (let's call him Jersey Guy). Now, I did not really feel the same type of a connection that I felt on my first date with mrX, but I still had a great time and I won't be too surprised if Jersey Guy asks me out on a second date in the very near future.

Maybe he'll grow on me. Maybe the best is yet to come.

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

I Got Played

I wish I could report some happy news. I wish I could say that all my worries from Saturday were unjustified. I wish I could say that I didn't get played. But I did.

That's right. In a worst possible way. My suspicions from Saturday were correct in that they were foreshadowing the forthcoming douchiness from mrX. As all the great (and sometimes not so great) stories begin, "It all started when...

On Saturday I was still basking in the afterglow of a seemingly wonderful night with mrX and my dear friends, and I decided to ignore the fact that mrX never responded to my adorable, in my opinion, text message. I figured, his phone was dead when he was leaving and, therefore, there was that possibility of the text message never reaching him. I didn't go out that night because I was still terribly hung over from the festivities of the previous day, so right before going to sleep, I texted mrX with, "Hope you got my text message from today :)"

No response.

The odds of him not getting two text messages in a row were slim. I was becoming suspicious but I didn't let the clouds over my head ruin my sleep that night.

The next day I waited impatiently by the phone, expecting a phone call from mrX to invite me out to the movies. You see, a Sunday movie and dinner are (were) our tradition for the past six weeks.

No phone call.

I IMed him around five, and asked him about his night, yadda yadda, all that meaningless small talk. Then I brought up the question, "So let's go see a movie tonight... I really wanna hang out with you." His response, get this, - and you might want to sit down, if you're still standing up, for the level of douchiness is unprecedented and might overwhelm you - is "Of course you do. I'll bbl." Needless to say, I haven't heard from him at all that night.

Or the day after.

Or today.

This morning, filled with righteous fury. I emailed his work account with a short and straight-to-the-point email, "Hi mrX, I'm really curious to find out why you've been giving me a cold shoulder for the past four days?" Now let me just state that he always ALWAYS replies (replied) to his work email. And, call me crazy, but doesn't everyone check their work email at the very least once an hour?

No response. That son of a bitch.

After my agonizing attempt to not care, I called his cell on the way home from work.

No answer.

An hour ago I sent him an angry and final IM, "Can you stop being an asshole and tell me why youre ignoring me and i'll leave you the fuck alone." I'm not expecting him to dignify me with any sort of response. Apparently, mrX doesn't have enough balls to even tell the girl that she didn't mean a thing to him. Apparently, he'd rather rip the girl's heart out and walk off, leaving the girl shocked and still in complete disbelief that a living, breathing human being is capable of such despicable act.

That's it. I'm done. I need to get over this creepster and move on. No plots of revenge. No keying his precious car. No making use of services (yes, I considered ordering an insulting message sent to his phone for a mere price of 24.95). I really wish I had never met him in the first place. And I would never wish a person like mrX even on my worst enemy. This hurts like hell, but as God is my witness, I will survive. I will simply walk away, and in a few months, memories of him will slowly but surely start fading away into oblivion, where they belong.
I suppose it's time to start the healing process. And hey, the last time I checked, there is an incredibly cute bartender/bouncer who works at one of the bars I frequent and who I catch looking and smiling at me from time to time. Maybe it's time for me to smile back.

Saturday, June 16, 2007

A Girl's Guide to Being a Rockstar

My head feels so heavy and the chirping of the birds outside is hurting my skull. When I looked at myself in the mirror this morning, I had to do a double take because I barely recognized my face. Smudged mascara, traces of eyeliner on my left cheek (yeah, I have no idea how that happened either), not to mention my breath is still reeking of alcohol. Ah, the consequences of a night of copious alcohol consumption.

MrX and I got a hotel for the night because neither of us wanted to drive home intoxicated. I checked in right after leaving work into room 1209, and showered and promptly changed into my dress. As a side note, let me just say that I bought this dress for 30 dollars and it's seriously the most stunning dress in my closet. It's beautiful, comfortable, reveals just the right amount of cleavage to keep a male eye lingering yet still leaves much to imagination. Not to mention it makes me feel like a million bucks. MrX was dressed slightly more casually, but I figured what the hell - it's my birthday and I'm allowed to dress up as much as I want.

So we made our way down to this restaurant/bar/club by the river which I absolutely love, and had a lovely dinner. mrX shaved prior to going out which I was ridiculously grateful for - stubble isn't really my thing and when he doesn't shave for more than one day, he seriously fights the hot. And come on, if you've got that hotness in you, flaunt it, don't fight it. Okay?

After dinner we began drinking. Quite heavily at that. In fact when my friends showed up around 10, I was already seriously buzzed. I think I drank the most last night, and my friend Glamorous told me that I was a cute drunk. A cute drunk? I'll take that as a compliment. Certainly better than an angry drunk or an emotional drunk.

After midnight I don't remember much at all. I sort of remember getting crazy on the dance floor, but I typically do that even when I'm sober, so that's not anything new. I do remember almost falling due to my state of inebriation, but mrX was firmly holding my hand the entire time we were dancing, and he saved me from falling on my ass. After that though, I don't remember a damn thing. I don't have anything to worry about though. I'm always the classiest of drunks and I have yet to remember one instance where I embarassed the hell out of myself. I do know this much - for some unbeknownst to me reason,I was trying to set my friends DJ and Ms. Conservative up, and Ms. Conservative was not feeling the poor guy at all. Ay Dios mio, I really need to stop playing a matchmaker and stick to my own issues with mrX, but more on that later.

I do not remember saying goodnight and goodbye to ANY of my friends which makes me wonder if I bothered to say goodnight at all. I really hope I didn't just pick up and leave but I did stay there till closing time so I probably left around the same time everyone else did.

We got back to our hotel room after a fun-filled night (from what I can remember), mrX and I did our thing, and yes, I sobered up enough at that point to actually remember that activity. And of course, I reminded him (several time, as he pinpointed out) to use protection. Seriously, I'm such a strong advocate for condoms, Trojan should make me their spokesperson. Actually, I don't have a brand of preference, but I've always liked those Trojan Man commercials. So Trojan, if you're reading this, call me!

This morning I woke up and I was still a bit drunk, but that's besides the point. Here is where inexplicable awkwardness begins. Let's make a list, shall we?

1. While still in bed, mrX decided to say the oddest thing to me, "I think your friend DJ likes you." I let the words settle in my brain. "Why do you say that?" I cautiously inquired. "I don't know. It's just the way he looks at you. I'm just getting that vibe, you know?" That's interesting that he said that. I do get that vibe from DJ as well, but we're strictly friends. Not in a million years would I cross that line. But how is mrX getting that vibe? I think the real reason behind him saying what he said was that he sees that incredibly close bond between DJ and me and he just might be a little jealous of the friendship and wants to plant some seeds of awkwardness in my head. That devious mrX.

2. It didn't seem like mrX wanted to cuddle. He ALWAYS cuddles. Well, at least the other three times we slept in the same bed, he did. But this morning... he briefly put his arm around me but then withdrew it after ten seconds of resting it on my hip. That does not count as cuddling.

3. We just happened to park two cars apart from each other in the parking garage so we walked to our respective cars together. I reached my car first but he just continued walking. I paused for a few seconds, wondering if he would turn around, come back and plant one on my lips, but no such luck. I saw him pause as well before his car, looking at me, but at that point I was already angrily fumbling with my keys and was not going to be the one to go over to his car.

4. On our way back home, he followed me through the city for a while, because he was trying to get back to I95 and I volunteered to show him the way. Once on 95 though, he sped up and his little Nissan practically flew by me disappearing in the distance.

5. He hasn't replied to my terribly sweet text message in which I professed my affection for him by typing the gramatically incorrect "Had a great time cant wait 2 c u again :)" Who can resist replying to that but a man who just might be not that into me any more?!

But then again, he spent a mad amount of money on me last night. He paid for everything and for a few of my friends' drinks. Perhaps, I am the one who needs to step it up just a notch and show him that I really value his role in my life and that he truly is an amazing guy when he wants to be. It's kind of nervewrecking though. Am I being paranoid? Is it too late to reignite the sparks?

Our usual bartender at the bar last night (he served us drinks on our third date) said to mrX, "I am so glad to see you guys are still together." And I thought to myself, "Still together... but for how long?" I don't want to lose a good thing, and that's exactly what mrX and I have (had?).

I wonder, would anything be different if I wasn't moving to Cincinnati in September?


Thursday, June 14, 2007

3rd Annual 21-st B-day

I'm 23 today. Here it comes, another year. It's weird to me to think how much had changed since June 14th, 2006.

Back then I was sharing an apartment with my ex in a beautiful little suburban town. Back then... well, I guess not that much had changed since then, except the whole giant apocalyptic break up thing. It just feels like it's been so long ago. I'm feeling nostalgic but certainly not regretful about the break-up. I would do it all over again.

And now it's 9:10am on Flag Day - the most underrated U.S. holiday. It's 9:10am and mrX still hasn't wished me Happy Birthday. Gasp.

I've noticed him acting very differently this week. He's being distant, unaffectionate and though he still says he will come to my Birthday party, I feel like now he is saying this more out of a sense of duty than anything else.

I also think I know why he's been acting shady lately. Last Friday, we had sex for the first time. And it's not like I've allowed myself to get this close to him right after we met each other. No, no, kids, I made him wait. And wait. And wait, and wait, and wait. I did not want him to use me and then get rid of me like I was a disposable item for him to play with. I guess, I thought that the more I made him wait, the more likely he would view the act of "doing it" as an expression of affection rather than just a physical urge.

So now I think he might be trying to become gradually less and less involved with me without looking like a total douchebag. He's failing miserably so far. I mean, my ultimate insult for a person, male or female, is to call them a "douchebag". And boy oh boy, is he being one right now!

I really don't regret the act of having sex in itself. I thought it was damn good and I thought I was rather good as well, considering that I have not been seeing any action in that department since late August of '06. I just regret getting slightly too involved in him, too wrapped up in my feelings. I let myself trust him after being so cautious for so long. Most of all, I'm mad at myself for throwing all the precautions to the wind and finally falling for him and saying that I was in love.

So the plan of action for now is to not contact him all day today and see what he does or doesn't do. Gosh, a phone call would be nice. It IS, after all, my birthday. With that being said, I will not let this man ruin my birthday. I can firmly state that even if he decides to be a total scumbag and not show up to my birthday party tomorrow, I will have as much fun as ever. After all, I will be celebrating with at least 7 of my dear friends at my favorite club in the city. It won't be raining which means the deck will be open so I can dance under the stars til the wee hours. If I just sit back and think positive thoughts, things will work themselves out.

They always do.


Tuesday, June 12, 2007


So last week mrX and I had an impromptu talk about where we stood in our relationship. Granted, I wanted to talk to him for the longest time, hell, a week after I met him, but I withheld myself from bringing up the subject, fearing that he would freak out and instantly distance himself from me. Well, last week the subject came about rather organically and with some skillful steering I was able to bring my boat into the bay of The Talk.

It didn't go as well as I had hoped. It didn't go as badly as I had feared. I was pretty saddened but not outraged. Basically, he sugarcoated what he really wanted to say and what he REALLY wanted to say was, "I'd like to date you for this summer because we're so damn compatible but you're moving in September, and hell no, I won't wait for you. I'm good-looking and successful, you're damn right girls are getting in line to date me. So let's not bring this subject up for the rest of the summer and at the end of it all we'll have a short and sweet good bye. And perhaps have break-up sex, except that it won't officially be a break up since we were never really going out."

Yeah, I can read between the lines. Yeah, I can see where he is coming from and although right now I am all flustered and disappointed over the fact that he won't wait for three years for me to finish my education and come back to him, I know that I would be as reluctant as him if I were in his position. (Again, in a Hollywood movie the scenario would play out in a slightly different manner. We would meet after three years of not seeing each other in a park in the midst of a summer rain. We would both be soaking wet so our tears of happiness would mix with raindrops. One look into each others' eyes and we would instantly realize that the long wait was well worth it, because we knew all along that we belonged together. I would be played by Katherine Heigl or some Kate Moss look-alike.) Life is not a Hollywood movie, however, and I think once we're apart from each other, we'll be too involved in our own lives to care enough to continue our relationship.

Too bad, because I'm so in love with him. Being the realist that I am, however, I know that the best thing for me to do right now is to enjoy the summer and the amazing sex and the food and make memories and then try to let go and move on. Easier said than done, right?

Saturday, June 9, 2007

In and Out of It

Lights are swirling in randomized patterns and occasionally hitting me straight in the eye. Strangers pass me by with drinks, purses, cell phones and wallets as I try to squeeze through the crowd while delicately balancing my two drinks and my own self on my feet. After 3 beers and 2 rum and Cokes balance is becoming a challenging task, but I've done this drunken waltz before and I can surely do it again.

I just introduced mrX to my core group of friends and I am curious to find out how they're getting (or not getting) along while I was gone to purchase drinks. I stop in my tracks for a second and lift myself up on my tiptoes and glance across the club to spy on mrX and the gang. I see S. engaging mrX in a conversation. They're talking. That's good, real good.

I manage to avoid a body-on-body collision with a drunken mess of a girl who passes me by without looking where she's going. Her stiletto heel misses my foot by sheer luck. I try to imagine how it would feel if her heel was to actually hit the target. I can almost feel the excruciating pain and that warrants the girl a staredown, courtesy of me. By that point though, she's already made her escape into a faceless crowd. Lucky for her.

As I walk through the crowd I look around to see if anyone is watching me do my rockstar stroll. Ah, the rockstar stroll only comes out when I am already tipsy and therefore feel invincible and incredibly important. I see a guy by the bar mentally x-raying me as his eyes travel up my body until they lock with mine. I smile. Normally, in any other situation, his behavior would have warranted him a look very similar to the one I was going to give the Stiletto Girl, but it's completely acceptable and even flattering at clubs. Besides, he is kind of cute and therefore I don't mind the attention.

I return to my friends and exchange a few snark remarks with S. about the crowd. I am here, I am here to judge and be judged. I dress up, put gel in my hair, shave my legs and pluck my eyebrows to be more beautiful and if I couldn't deal with the narcissistic world of nightlife I wouldn't be going out every weekend. Monday it's back to the grindstone of nine to five and the subtle urges to sleep in instead of going to work... But tonight, the world is on my platter. With a cherry on top.