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.


Friday, June 8, 2007

When The World Ends

Fridays come and I spend them at work in an absolute daze, counting down hours and then minutes, in the most tough of days perhaps even seconds, til I can get out and start prettying myself up for a night out. Will I ever grow tired of this routine? Will I some day wake up, mildly hung over, look in a mirror, notice the first wrinkle gently carving its way into my skin and starting to form a fold around my mouth cause I smile too much, and think to myself, "I think tonight I'm going to stay in. Perhaps read the Architectural Digest, have a cup of chammomile tea, call it a night around 10pm."

For now, I dread the idea. I do not want to get older. I'd like to be immortal, live forever, though I know it doesn't makes any sense. If I just stop aging, everything else around me will still need to age, including the world itself. And on the last day of Earth, I wonder, will I still want to stay alive forever?

It's crazy, I know, to even think of these things. Maybe it's a quarter life crisis talking, though I thought I already had one at 20. I mean, I am happy. Happy with life, job, the guy, upcoming grad school, even my move to Cincinnati. But a part of me can't stop thinking about mortality. As I drive to work every morning and roll my windows down to feel the smog-filled but yet still pleasant morning air, I can't help but feel a hint of sadness, knowing that some day I will feel nothing at all.

Wednesday, June 6, 2007

...In Which I Pretend I'm In Love

When I fell into his eyes, I realized that he was a significant if temporary presence in my life. The future distance between us… the inevitability of it all is pushed to the back of my mind, giving way to my perception of the depth of feeling for him.

Will he ever appreciate or know this? That for one split moment in the life of universe, one entity felt completely enveloped in another entity. Their energies connected and synced up for that moment. The two entities out of all of the particles in the universe found momentary peace in a confusion of ever present chaos.

Jeopardizing my 5pm deadline, I think of him and wonder how innately different men and women really are. Is it really outlandish of me to suppose that he might feel something for me too?

Come September, there will be significant changes in my life. Relocation, education, new faces, new obstacles and triumphs. My future will be uncompromised by him but my heart will feel the changes more than I will like to admit.

Maybe in a world raised by Hollywood, I’ve arrived to expect more than I should. Does this mean that I am being unreasonable or does it mean that I have standards?

Nevertheless, I do not want to let him go. I fell in love with him much too quickly, and I know that. I hear people utter things like, “You can’t be in love after only two months.” I used to be one of the people who would say that. This, after all, feels much luck teenage lust, except that I am 23. But if I’m wrong, then let me be wrong. What is so bad about mislabeling this particular feeling? Why do I need to be 100 percent right all the time anyway?

We’re all human. We all make mistakes. I just hope that he isn’t MY mistake. But then again. I’m 23. I’ll get over it.


Monday, June 4, 2007

Fool Me Once...

My undying quest for perfection gets the best of me sometimes... I question my happiness at times where I should be basking in the bliss of a good life. Oftentimes, I know I'm happy but I still question the authenticity of my happiness.

So this is where the saga continues.. This is where I am today. Oh vey. Boy problems, career decisions, grad school concerns, general madness are all about to ensue. If anyone cares - stay tuned... you're in for a ride.