My Family Also Questions My Sanity from Time to Time...

My parents, still to this day even though I am well above the legal drinking age, judge me when I drink alcohol in front on them. Like the other day, when the guests were about to arrive to the parents' Christmas party, I discovered half a bottle of Limoncello just chilling on my parents' kitchen counter. Seeing as as I was just about done helping my mom cook, I figure I might as well make myself a generous drink of Limoncello and cream.

Of course my mother sees me pour a shot of Limoncello into a martini glass and immediately goes, "Do you always like to drink by yourself?" Knowing that my mom hardly ever drinks, it wasn't like she was getting upset that I didn't offer to make her one; she was clearly seeing this as a warning sign that I might just be indulging in spirits a bit too much.

I wanted to tell her that, as a person who is almost always intensely immersed in work, I frequently need a drink or two just to keep my sanity in tact. She wouldn't understand that though, so I just lie to her about wanting to try a new mixed drink recipe I saw online. Besides, I only drink once a week and Christmas day just happened to be that once-a-week occasion.

Later on, right before the guests arrive, I catch my mother whispering to my father in confidence but, strategically, loud enough so I can hear too:

"I am afraid that she drinks too much when she's at home by herself."

I sigh and walk away from the conversation and when the guests arrive I help myself to a full glass of wine and toast to a very Merry Christmas. If having an affinity for the finer spirits is wrong, perhaps I don't want to be right.

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A Moment of Bliss

I am having an amazing time with Mr J this week. The moment I saw him for the first time in almost four months, the old feelings just rushed back and over me like a wave.

It is so incredibly sad to me that Friday will be the last day I will get to see him and then another long break for... three, four, five months... God knows how long it will be until I see him again and what events will occur until then. And then after I receive my master's and, hopefully, move the hell out of Ohio.. God knows where I will end up, how far away from him. And he might be moving elsewhere as well, as he wants to transfer to a better law school.

Mr J is tip-toeing around the subject of commitment, which is not making me a happy camper even though I know he's probably right in staying away from making any attachments. He said things like, "I don't have the time to date in law school. " - and I know what he means. But then he also said, "I missed you so much. I wish I could come home from classes every day and see you." - and I know what he means.

I've never felt anything even close to what I'm feeling for him. It feels so good and it feels so heart-breaking... and I am just trying to enjoy every moment of it for now and not dwell on the negativity.

I just hope that the bastard sticks around until, at least, May when we both, hopefully, finalize our futures and can make the decision of whether or not we can be together after all.

I just don't want him to get away...

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Whatever Happened to Mr H...

There is a curse that I, sometimes, feel hangs over me like a dark, ominous cloud. I try to ignore it because I feel like if I concentrate on it too much, it can prompt me to sabotage any budding relationships I might be developing. But, ever so often when I meet a new guy, I can't help but think of "The Three-Week Curse" as I call it and the consequences it may have on my love life.

The Three Week Curse is the uncanny ability for a perfectly-fine romantically-inclined relationship with a guy to go completely down the drain - all in a matter of a three week period. The countdown begins with a first date and never fails to manifest itself exactly twenty one days later. Sometimes I foresee the end from a mile away, sometimes I just sense that something is going awry, and sometimes I have no damn clue as to what, in God's name, went wrong.

Case Study #30 - Mr H:

Things with Mr H started off wonderfully. Sparks and chemistry were present from the get-go as, I think, we were equally smitten by each other when we met through my friend at a bar. He contacted me on Facebook shortly after our initial meeting and we set up our very first date a week later.

Sushi and wine - it was a picture-perfect first date, and Mr J was nowhere on my mind. It was a great start to what I thought would be a new, Mr J-free chapter. I was willing and ready to put myself out there again, and there one no one better to do it for than Mr H.

Our first week "hanging out" was just as perfect as our first date... as it is always the case in Week One of the Three Week Curse. This is the week when a guy is willing to do anything for me. I am talking, he wants to make long-term plans (like start booking a cruise together four months in advance), introduce me to his parents (fast, sure, but a nice gesture nevertheless) and, basically, see me every waking moment of every day.

Week Two rolled around and things were still great on the dating front. This was the week when I drove up North to check out Mr H's apartment for the first time, as he lives one hour away from me. He had a lovely, quaint place and I had a ball with him - a great dinner at a cute little restaurants, a couple of drinks afterward, and he even introduced me to some of his friends at his usual hang-out spot. Things were moving along nicely with Mr H, but in the back of my mind, I still knew not to rush anything sexually because I still had to survive...

Week Three... when everything still seems fine on a surface, nevertheless, some warning signs begin to exhibit themselves and point to a sad conclusion that a once hard-to-extinguish flame is now dying off. For example, during Week One and Two, Mr H infallibly would text me every day. just to ask me how my day was going. In Week Three, he skipped two days and though he finally came around, I remember voicing my concerns with the situation to one of my best friends who is familiar with my Three Week Curse.

Shortly after Week Three was over, it started becoming more and more evident that Mr H and I were not meant to be. Even though I saw him once during the fourth week, he began making excuses as to why he was busy to drive out and see me. While this went on for about two weeks, the back and forth exchanges of "What are you up to this weekend?" and "Oh, I've got a pile of work I have to take care of. Can we hang out next week?" I knew very well where it was all heading.

I consider myself an expert at the dating game at this point, so as not to be played for a fool I quickly called Mr H out, "Hey listen, I don't know if you just don't like me as much any more but it seems that you've been avoiding seeing me lately. Just tell me if that's the case because I don't want to be lead on."

He responded with the all-telling, "I still like you a lot, it's just that this long-distance thing is really hard."

That was all that I needed to hear. Bam. Done. I had to move on immediately. "Well thank you for being honest," I replied and closed that chapter once and for all.

No drama, no petty shiftiness, I was still, nevertheless, disenchanted with another guy who just wasn't in it for the long run. I did not invest myself too much emotionally into the whole thing, precisely because of the fear that this shit would occur. But I still had high hopes that, perhaps, this guy would finally break the three week curse.

I am not saying that every guy I've ever dated lost interest in me after three weeks - it's almost every guy that I had really amazing chemistry with that tends to do this to me. It is almost as if.... the less I care about a guy, the more he is willing to stick around and beg for my attention.

With that being said.... I get to see Mr J in three days! Can't wait to see how that goes...

P.S. @ 11:41PM:

And just like that Mr H texts me with, "Hey, how have you been? I miss hanging out with you."

Oh Mr H... girls don't wait around for shifty guys to make up their minds. Girls move on.
I've moved on, my dear.

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He Ate My Heart

Just when I thought I could move on from Mr J, Mr H turned into a huge douche. It's funny how guys can go from good to evil in a matter of seconds. But I don't even blame Mr H for doing a complete 360 almost over night, despite the fact that I am still baffled why he does not seem to be attracted to me any longer, at least not nearly as much as he initially appeared to be.

Because Mr J is coming back to Ohio for Christmas and we will have a whole week to hang out with each other before I go back to Philly to see my family over my break from school. And, I hate to say it, but despite all the jealous outbursts and sporadic childish behavior from Mr J lately... I'm still looking forward to seeing this man after almost 4 months of being apart from each other. I am pretty much counting down the days (just 18 more!) until I see him again.

There's something that can be said about all of this when I still get butterflies in my stomach every time I think of this guy. Maybe Mr H came in and out of my life just to make me realize that I am just not ready to be over Mr J yet...

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Maybe I'm the One Who Gets the Last Laugh

Two years ago I got my heart broken in the worst way possible. I got dumped the day after my birthday... I got dumped in way that could make anyone cringe. He simply stopped calling, texting, deleted me as a friend on Facebook and blocked me shortly thereafter, stopped all communication abruptly and mercilessly. I was pretty devastated even though I didn't let anyone know about my heartache to anyone except for the two of my closest friends. On the outside I upkept the appearance of a calm, collect person; on the inside I was nothing short of being dead.

A few months later I found his myspace where I saw that he started dating a new girl. It took him no time at all to get over me, while it took me about 6 months, if not longer, to get over him. I saw the picture of the happy couple posing for the camera on a Jersey beach, all smiley, tan, happy, carefree. He looked so innocent and friendly showing off his pearly whites, hand in hand with a new main squeeze. Not a trace of worry on his face, not a single residual memory of me.

Several months later, I found out that he proposed to this new girl. I found out that they were scheduled to get married in December 2009. I felt violated once again.

I hated him for a long time before I could finally let go of the burden. In a way, that short relationship that I had with him changed me forever. It made me more cynical, but it also made me a lot stronger. Do I regret ever getting involved with him? Actually, yes I do, to this day. Even though the pain is long gone, I still realize that I suffered over him for much longer than he deserved.

I think I finally got over him a year ago, when I developed a crush on a new boy de jeur. As the hilarious and sometimes true saying goes, the quickest way to get over an old guy is to get under a new one. And though I didn't exactly do that in a literal sense, having a new crush certainly helped me let go of the past.

I haven't thought about the guy in a long time but today, for some reason, I wondered about the state of things in his engagement. I googled his name and found the link to the couple's wedding web site again.

Except that it said that their page no longer existed. Intrigued, I googled some more... it appears that they either broke up or, at the very least, called off their engagement. All the traces of the wedding-planning activities have been taken down; all the wedding registries with their names disappeared as well. The pictures of the happy couple all but took a dive in the bottomess abyss of e-waste, all traces of the potential happily-ever-after erased forever, or at least, for the time being.

And though I am generally not a mean-spirited or ill-wishing person, I couldn't help but whisper with all the satisfaction in the world, "Take that, motherfucker..."

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The Least of My Worries....

I would talk about this really FUG, as documented by Facebook pictures anyway, kitchen that I know someone is installing, but I won't...

Because I am too busy getting ready to file a law suit against property owners of my last apartment building, because they won't give me security deposit back. And they simply don't know who they're fucking with.

Because Mr. J has been lending me his legal skills to guide me every step of the way in the process to make this lawsuit successful. He's even offered to call the property owners on my behalf to ruffle some feathers.

Because I have been feeling more and more guilty, since Mr J has been incredibly nice and helpful and, meanwhile, I am still seeing Mr H.

Because Mr H has been nothing but lovely and caring and sweet to me.

Because I am too busy juggling my indecisions and amorous thoughts between these two quality men, unable to cope with the fact that I have to lose one of them in order to keep the other one.

Because on top of it all, I have been attempting to write my master's thesis as it is refusing to write itself right now.

I feel absolutely lost and confused and selfish.
Need I really say more.

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Torn Between Two

When I was out with Mr H last night, Mr J texted me several times. I ignored it.
He called me several times around 2am. I ignored it.
He texted me more but I was too preoccupied with Mr H. So I ignored it.

And then in my inbox this morning, I saw this:
"looks like you messed things up last night. if there is one thing i do not take from anyone is to be out right ignored, and lied to. the last thing you texted me was that ur at a bar...you've answered your phone at a bar when ive called before, let alone text me...and then you went on to ignore me further by not texting me back when you "got home" which is why i finding the fact you went home alone highly doubtful. So I'm sure you are seeing someone or at least you did last night...it was very inconsiderate of you to not as much as text me back when it was clear that i was upset by your ignoring me. If you really do "like" me, it's gonna take one hell of an explanation to get me to understand, as of not i could care less if we talk again, from how you ignored me last night...it was beyond rude."

He, of course, is not my boyfriend so the jealousy issues need to be dealt with, on his personal time. I, however, am being deceitful in not telling him about Mr H. So what, right? I don't owe him anything... but I do, however, feel like a shady person for not revealing the truth and letting it be known, once and for all, that I just might be moving on.

I could tell Mr J the truth about Mr H. That would, without a doubt, put an end to anything I've had with Mr J. My dilemma is that the romance with Mr H is still so brand new and I don't know nearly enough about him to know if he really is who he says he is and I still miss Mr J so much and we share so much history.... In the end, depending on a decision I make, I might just end up alone.

But I guess I can't have my cake and eat it too, so I need to make that decision, even if it means losing Mr J in the end.

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A New Chapter?

An unprecedented turn of events about two weeks ago put me in quite a predicament. You see, it was a Friday night and I was rocking a new little black dress with my fabulous gay friends at a local hotspot. Running into another friend of mine wasn't a part of my plans that night, nor was meeting his friend who just happened to be a total hottie.

I was surprised as to how drawn I was to this guy within seconds of being introduced to him, but I decided not to make it known and just let the attraction slide off my shoulders. Sometimes, however, things don't turn out the way you plan them to. The hottie and I ended up talking for the better part of the night and bonding over our mutual love for Photoshop, as we both use it regularly in our lines of work. Parting on strictly friendly terms the night ended with me driving home wondering why in the world I didn't man up and ask him for his number.

"Oh well... whatever happens happens," was my reasoning. Even though deep inside I felt a sting of disappointment. I was tired of Mr J's wishy washy behavior, his unreasonable jealousy outbursts whenever I went out with my friends, and his lack of willingness to make a commitment to me. Aside from our occasional phone conversations, I felt that our relationship was not progressing anywhere. Feeling at a complete stand still, I made multiple attempts to move on over the last few weeks, and now that I had a reason to move on (i.e. a new interest), I couldn't get the nerve to make a move.

The next day I, unsuccessfully, tried to search for my new crush on Facebook. My attempts were futile as I found hundreds of people with his first name and, alas, I didn't know much more about him than that to modify my search to more specific parameters. Disillusioned, I went back to doing school work, trying to occupy my mind with something other than the haunting ridiculously sexy smile of a ridiculously sexy guy from the previous night.

An hour into my work, my Blackberry lit up with a notification message saying that I received a friend request on Facebook. Wait... it can't possibly be... But it's just too good to be true... I held my breath as I signed on to Facebook... Oh. My. God.

It was HIM!
(Let's call him Mr H from now on)

It felt like a total movie moment. He, somehow, found me on Facebook. Was he attracted to me to? Was I over-analyzing the situation and was he just trying to be friends?

I immediately sent him a message. Unassumingly, yet with a hint of flirtation, I told him that I was impressed with his ability to find people on Facebook. He replied back within minutes and before I knew it, we began conversing back and forth.

Fast forward to today - it's been two weeks since our initial meeting and we'd already gone out on three amazing dates. I was feeling guilty at first as I knew that this guy could potentially replace Mr J in the near future but, little by little, I also began to discover that Mr H was able to deliver all those things that Mr J was too reluctant to.

I am not saying that I am falling for Mr H just yet... but all I am saying is that I am definitely moving on and I am finally excited about a possible future.

A future WITHOUT Mr J.

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Nice Try, Though.

School started up again as feverishly and mercilessly as if I had never even taken an academia-prescribed 6 month internship hiatus. Spring and Summer months flew by as they always do, and as the leaves begin to change colors and the mornings are getting a little cooler and crisper, I find myself back in the whirlwind of administrative tasks, research, reading and all the hoopla that is involved with a last year of graduate school.

I did have some time to go on a date though last week. It was a good decision and certainly not a bad experience overall. In fact, the verdict is still out on this one, because the guy... there is absolutely nothing wrong with him, he seems to be pretty into me, he is quite intelligent. Oh and he drove two hours for our date - that's gotta count for something!

It's all fine and dandy except for one and only irreversible fact - he is not, nor ever will be, Mr J. And for that matter, no one else will be, and for that matter only, I still think that I need to wait and see where things progress with Mr J this year. After all, I am not the one to believe in fate and predestination, but something about the idea of being with Mr J... something about it feels so incredibly right.

While away at school, he managed to get his laptop stolen last week. A tragic situation at its face value, it seemed to have brought us closer together. I was the first person he called when he found out that his laptop was no longer in the spot where he left it at the library. I was the one he consulted about buying a new laptop (poor thing is relying on me for technological advice - might not be the best idea in the world!). And I was the one to comfort him through the entire agony of losing an incredibly valuable thing.

Am I happy his laptop got stolen? Of course not. But I am happy that he thought about consulting me; I am happy that immediately, in a state of despair and panic, he knew that I would have his back, that I would help him out in whatever way I could. And I did, of course.

Because despite all of the attempts of mine to not put all of the eggs in one basket and "play the field", I still freaking love this guy more than any words can ever describe.

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Seeing Other People

So I don't know if it's very ethical of me, but I've decided, again, that it might be beneficial for my well being to go on a date, of sorts, on Thursday with a gentleman I met... well.... online.

I've been on a date with a guy I met online before and it turned out to be all sorts of disastrous. However, with that being said, there is a new guy in the picture that I've been very casually talking to for weeks. In fact, to my own embarrassment, I've declined going on several dates with him so far, mostly because internet dating was something that I've decided to swear off for good. And, of course, because I was so head over heels in love with Mr. J that I couldn't even fathom seeing other people. Of course, distance and the lack of physical contact tends to coll things off somewhat over time.

This new guy has been persistent enough, however, that I agreed to have a brief phone conversation with him today to, sort of, assess the state of things and evaluate whether or not I would want to meet him at all. I mean, talk about brutal honesty - I laid it all out on the table and told him like it is.

"I really fell in love over the summer and I am reluctant in meeting new prospects.. especially since I will be starting graduate school back up again and all."

He said that he would like to meet me, nonetheless. And upon our brief phone conversation (which, in the end, turned out to be more like two hours long), I must say that I am more than intrigued in meeting this guy in person.

I hate the stigma of internet dating. I should be able to find a guy on my own. At a bar or something. And I hate that I am trying desperately to get over Mr. J, but the truth is, I have this feeling that he is trying to get over me as well, on his own. And another thing is... I really think that waiting until Christmas to see him again is putting an unnecessary strain on me. Why should I be putting a proverbial nun habit on me and faithfully wait for Mr. J to return home when I can still be, for all intents and purposes, be shopping around? It's not like I am trying to sleep with random guys or anything.

The truth is, Mr. J is still in my heart, but, as long as there is no official verbal commitment to exclusivity between us, I do not feel secure with waiting for him with open arms. If anything, this date with an online prospect can only verify that Mr. J is the one for me.

On the other hand, it could help me move on, just as well. Let's see what happens.

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Epilogue?

So as I suspected, he said today that getting together over the weekend "isn't such a good idea". He said that he misses me and that last weekend he got jealous of a guy friend I was talking to him about. He said he isn't a jealous person so the pinch of jealousy caught him by surprise and that made him realize that he might have some deep(er) feelings for me.

He said that he likes me and he is sad that we cannot date right now. He said that seeing me now and knowing that we won't see each other for a long time would be hard on him. He said he wants to see me during our Thanksgiving and Christmas breaks, and though Christmas right now it seems like forever and a day from now, I desperately want to wait for him to visit me nevertheless.

I might be stupid and he might lose interest in me by then. But hey, you can't blame a girl for trying, right?

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So Am I Completely in the Wrong Here?

I am a very rational person with rare outbursts of completely unruly passion that I allow to seep through the pores of my skin only once in a blue moon. I am the one who does not easily give into temptation, I am the one who, even while drunk, can be an excellent cock blocker for my friends, much to the chagrin of the creepy men who tend to take advantage of drunk girls at bars. I am the voice of reason - the one who tells my best friend not to hook up with a married seductress he works with, no matter how much she tells him that the flame of passion is long gone from her marriage.

With Mr. January, I decided to take the opposite route. I took a step toward getting a feel for what it would be like to emotionally give myself to someone. I took a chance on my unconditional falling in love, or rather, unconditional love took a chance on me. And, as the story goes, the harder you fall in love, the harder it is to get yourself out of a grave you dug with your own shovel.

I asked Mr. January last night if he'd be up for me visiting him this weekend and he replied with, "I would love that but I don't think that's such a good idea."

And I went, "Well I really want to see you even though we might not see each other again for a while."

And he hesitated. Even through the text messages, I sensed him putting his guard up. And for very brief but very crucial fine minutes thereafter, I tried my best to seduce him with promises and reminders of how much fun we have every time we see each other. And he said, "Well,I am not saying no. I will let you know tomorrow, for sure. I will assess how much work I will have this weekend and get back to you. " And blah blah blah, and I know he will text me tomorrow with an apology and a list of excuses. And I know why he is making those excuses. I know where he is coming from and I simply don't care, though I am already feeling the premature sadness creeping on. I want him to say, "Come over" and deal with consequences later, but I know that message will never come.

I know, I texted him in a moment of incredible weakness. My heart was feeling fragile and restless and I was longing for companionship. He was the one I thought of in this fragment of weakness, he is the one I always think about and I can't bare the thought of thinking about him being with someone else. Someone other than me. I wanted to see him before I moved back to school. I wanted to keep our memories of each other as fresh as possible.

Work and career always came first for me, but with Mr. J, my world was turned upside down the minute he walked into my life. This is what makes it so hard to passively watch him drift out of it, especially knowing that distance is the only thing making my love for him, not only unbearable, but painful.

And now, I am so missing our passionate drunk and sober texts we'd send each other all the time. I am missing his eyes. I am missing the way he judged people and the way he argued about politics. I am missing absolutely everything about him.

Can we all go through life taking care of our finances before we take care of our hearts? I might sound like Carrie Bradshaw right now, and in a way, I feel like her, as I am trying to pour my emotions and confusions onto my glossy laptop screen (sans a burning cigarette in my hand). But I can't help but wonder if I am viewing my summer romance with incredibly rose colored glasses or if Mr. J truly has a truly legitimate point. Maybe love can't conquer all, after all.

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Getting Back in the Game... Kind of.

I dragged myself out on a date the other day in an effort to get my heart out of the perpetual pity party it's been having with itself ever since I've decided that it would be wise to move on from Mr. January. I figured the best way to move on is to start liking someone else - and how can I start liking someone else if I am not meeting any new potential prospects.

When I met this particular guy, let's call him Princeton for his alma mater, he didn't exactly push all the right buttons for me. I decided to give it a go, however, when he proposed we go to a dinner at one of the hottest restaurants in town. I've been dying to go there all summer but didn't have anyone to go with so, of course, I jumped at the opportunity with both feet.

I agreed to meet him at the restaurant and, indeed, he was already there, talking to a bartender, when I arrived. I mentally petted myself on the back for dressing it up a bit that night - a flawlessly-fitted charcoal gray pencil skirt, a sexy top and tiny little heels - the crowd at the restaurant was older and definitely classier than your average neighborhood bar and I blended right in.

We grabbed a table and started off with martinis and appetizers. He was intelligent, talkative, funny, incredibly successful. I couldn't really figure him out but I thought I'd wait to finalize my opinion about him. At that moment the octopus appetizer was much more intriguing to me than the man who ordered this appetizer.

"My sister is also going for a degree in architecture. She is starting this fall... You know, I never thought architecture was so artisitc, I thought it would be much more math oriented," he said, upon finding out what I am getting my Master's in.

I glared. There is nothing more that I hate than people making rush assumptions about something they know next to nothing about - his sister didn't even start grad school, how would he know that the grad program is "artistically oriented".

I politely explained that, in graduate school, there is much more emphasis on the technical and practical side of things, much more so than in the undergrad - there is certainly a fair amount of calculations involved in sizing the mechanical equipment, columns and beams, thicknesses of walls, etc etc. Somewhere along the line, our conversation turned into me feeling invalidated for the work I do and I felt that I had to explain and educate.

"I had to interview an architect for the next issue of the magazine I work for - I thought it was an incredible opportunity to get to meet him and ask him all these questions... I would love to interview other people as well, now that I've had a taste for this interviewing process..." I told him.

"Really? Why do you say that?" he asked. I think he meant well - he was genuinely interested in what made me passionate about my work - but the way he stated it blurred the line between him being interested and him coming across as a snotty douche.

Well, so be it, I thought. Maybe I could overlook his mannerisms and concentrate on other, more positive qualities - after all, he has a wide range of interests, he is well traveled, he just got a huge promotion, he lives in one of the most beautiful buildings downtown....

Wait, wait, wait a minute.

I realized, as Princeton had paid for the bill and we were walking towards the front door that the list of good qualities that I compiled for myself sounded more like those a boss would look for in his ideal employee. Not once did I think about his eyes, or the way he smiled, or the way he made me laugh. Not once.

I dreaded a goodnight kiss, but luckily I got away with a hug. As I walked away, a pinch of regret I was feeling due to the lack of chemistry on my part finally seemed justified. I want real love and I am ready to take that step and to really open up... but to the right person. And Princeton is not that person.

When I got home, I finally checked my phone for messages. There was one text from Mr. January, asking me how my night was going. Instantly, butterflies and an increased heart rate was all I felt. I guess, I am still not over him after all. Far from it.

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The Truth about Lies...

... is that they are addictive. Once you tell one white lie and get away with it, you are enticed to lie again, and again, and again. Until those white lies grow and spread and the next thing you know, you are tangled up in a web of falasies that spin off of one another. You get so lost in who you pretend to be that you eventually lose touch of who you are underneath it all.

I remember a friend that I had when I was 18. He was two years older than me but we took the same art history class and sat next to each other during each lecture. While a lot of other kids in that class already knew each other and sat in groups, this guy and I did not know anyone in the class so it was only natural for us to befriend each other.

It started off innocently enough - we had lunch a few times on campus, we swapped notes when either of us missed a class. I told him that I lived at home and not on campus and he, having a car and all, offered to drive me home one day after two months of us knowing each other. As he was driving me to my house on I-95, his girlfriend called his cell and inquired as to where he was going and who he was with.

He said that he was with one of his guy friends, which immediately set off the alarm bells in my head. When he got off the phone, I gave him a silent inquisitive look. Not needing much persuasion, he offered up his explanation, "She doesn't let me have any girl friends. She doesn't let me hang out with any girls at all."

"That's crazy. How is that possible? And why do you put up with that?" I couldn't fathom why this possessive girl was so adamant about her boy not having any contact with any females. I couldn't imagine being with anyone that jealous and manipulating.

He dropped me off that night and drove off to go back home, but the trips to my house became more and more frequent as time went by. One night in November, he dropped me off at my house again and I invited him to come in and watch a movie.

Slowly but surely, during the movie, I felt him moving his hand closer and closer to mine - I didn't mind the closeness, in the back of my mind I kind of expected us to move past the friendship stage for a couple of weeks now. I moved in close to him and though neither one of us said a single word, you could cut the sexual tension in that room with a knife.

After the movie I offered up to walk him to the front door so that I could lock it behind him after he left. I hugged him goodbye but instead of letting go, I let my arms remain in an tight embrace and I lifted my body up on my tiptoes, my lips just inches away from him.

His breath was noticeably quicker but he managed to let out a half-hearted protest, "I don't know.. I don't think my girlfriend would like this..."

For a moment, my inner voice of reason took over me and I stepped back, let my arms let go of the embrace, slight look of guilt in my eyes.
"Yeah, I've never met her, but I don't want you to do anything you will regret doing..." I said, averting my gaze from him.

And that's when he wrapped his arms around my waist and let go of all the reservations and kissed me. I, in turn, forgot about how wrong it was what I was about to do and eagerly kissed him back. It was, without a doubt, one of the hottest kisses I've ever experienced and, to this day, that smooch remains on my list of the top five best kisses ever.

I wish I could say that it was the one and only time we ever crosses the line, but the truth of the matter is that our "affair" continued, on and off, for two years. He never told his girlfriend about any of his transgressions, and even when, after two years, we stopped sleeping with each other, he cheated on his girlfriend with other girls he knew. I could definitely understand why his girl never wanted him to talk to other women - he could not control himself. He was a good friend to me, before and after we became physically intimate, but he was a total jerk of a boyfriend to that girl.

I was in the wrong too, I should have said no to him. But I was operating under a pretense of never intending to get too serious with him, I pretended that it was all in good fun and nothing more. The truth was that at one point of time I became very attached to him... I reread my journal entries dating back to that time and my feelings for him, indeed, ran deep. It was more than just a fling for me.

As far as he goes, his lies never caught up to him, as he eventually got back with the girl he cheated on so many times. Or maybe she did find out about me after all, because, after a while, he stopped talking to me all together. It wasn't a sudden thing, and I didn't even notice that our conversations were growing less and less frequent but after a while... at the age of 22, I realized that I could no longer call him a close friend.

I can't believe that it's been three years now that I haven't talked to him. To this day, I think about him sometimes. Not that I still have feelings for him, not at all, - he was just one of those men that I always wondered about. What if the moment was right back then and he didn't have a girlfriend. What if...

But then again, maybe the saying "once a cheater always a cheater" is true after all. It is true - it is always much less fun being cheated on than being the 'other woman'. As for me, after all was said and done, I vowed to never be the 'other woman' again.

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Fade

When I drove to St. Louis last weekend to see Mr. J for, perhaps, the last time, a lot of thoughts ran through my head. As I drove through the downtown of Louisville, I cursed myself for even attempting this long distance drive. And then while I drove through the seemingly endless corn fields of Indiana and my butt cheeks became more and more fused with one another, I wondered why I was even trying to make it work. But then as I entered Missouri and finally saw the graceful bend of the famous arch hovering over the St. Louis skyline, I found myself excited and giddy at a mere thought of seeing and hanging out with Mr. J again.

The weekend was, well, just the way I wanted it to go. We went out, stayed in, watched movies, cuddled, spooned and I felt myself perhaps even falling deeper for him than I thought I could ever fall. Which made my drive home all the more devastating, because goodbyes were never my forte.

It's not that there was a goodbye per se. We made a lot of vague promises to each other to attempt to hang out and remain friends. I even said something along the lines of visiting him again before my fall quarter of my final year at graduate school picked back up again. But I think we kind of knew something we did not want to admit. The end - it was like a pink elephant in the air that neither of us wanted to acknowledge.

The drive home was made all that much harder by the sudden failure of my air conditioner and the stifflingly hot summer air loomed above and around me the way my thoughts about my future with Mr. J spread their poison through my brain cells.

Now a week later, it's not getting easier just yet. I was going to stop by a liquor store on my way home from work today to pick up a bottle of wine but decided against it. It is never good to drink with a heavy heart, and my heart's been weighing me down ever since I hugged Mr. J goodbye.

And he's doing well, he's making friends in law school already. And I will be fine too. I just wanted this to last for a little bit longer. And I could have diluted myself into thinking that I could continue a phone/text relationship with the man I love, but the best thing to do is to let go right now. Emotionally, I can't handle hoping that I can, realistically, be with Mr. J. Whether a year from now, or three years from now - we are pursuing very separate career paths. I can't view the outcome of our profession-driven decisions with rose colored glasses on.

But for a brief moment, though, when he kissed me on the forehead right before I drove away to my temporary home in Louisville, I wished I could put it all, all of it, on hold and stop the time just to be with him. Even if for just an hour longer.

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And Once Again It's on...

Some things always remain the same. The sky, inevitably, is always blue. College kids, inevitably, always grow up and forget their wayward ways to become more responsible adults. Some douchebags always remains douchebags, and some people still dilute themselves into thinking that they are still 25 and they can dress the part even though their are several decades older.

Other things do change though. Like today, through Facebook of course, I found out that one of my long-term exes proposed to his girlfriend of one year. My first reaction was, thankfully, not, "Oh no! The one that got away!!" It was more like, "Oh Jesus, Mr. Moneybags, you were able to afford a decent ring in THIS economy."

I mean, I guess that's always a good sign when I am feeling more competitive with the dude's money than his love interest. I think that might have been the ultimate test of whether or not I may still have any feelings for him, if I ever needed a test to prove the obvious. Today's emotions showed that, no, indeed, I was not secretly pining over my ex boyfriend and wishing for his ass to come back into my lap.

An engagement is a monumental thing though, not just from a monetary stand point. It does require a level of commitment from a guy that is usually to be appauded. An engagement ritual usually involves a long and agonizing process of a guy pondering whether or not he really wants to propose and give up all the hot chicks lining up to spread the legs for him (trust me, this was SO not the case with my ex...), deciding on the price and the amount to spend, and the actual trip to the store (hopefully that store name does not begin with Wal and end with Mart) to buy the said ring.

An engagement is indeed a prelude to marriage. My ex has always been one of those people who has been painfully dependent on being with someone and on striving for that ultimate field goal that, for him, constitutes a faithful, blissful marriage. While I am happy dancing in clubs on Friday nights, burning the midnight oil on Mondays and drinking my mid-week beer on Wednesdays, he is happy to be with his girl. And while I whole-heartedly admire and respect his goals, I cannot relate them to my own, at this point in my life.

Hell, if Mr. January himself proposed to me today, I'd be all like, "Babe, let's go have a couple of shots and dance it off at a club and talk it over in the morning." Of course, this is coming from a girl who has all the potential to evolve into a 70-year-old crazy cat lady who slaps the perfectly-toned asses of her nursing home attendants and lives in the la-la-land of the better days.

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Je Ne Parle Pas Francias?

I am packing it up to jet away to the city of never-dying romance and croissants for an entire week. Paris, here I come!! Business (I will be interviewing an architect for a magazine I work for - I'm talking... this will be my entrance to the big leagues of the writing world, without ever getting a degree in journalism) and pleasure (I will be visiting a friend who is interning at a French firm) combined, I expect this trip to be both overwhelming and exhilarating.

Knowing absolutely no French at all, I purchased a pocket English/French phrasebook and carefully wrote down the French translation for "I don't speak French, I speak English" in the empty Notes section in the back of the book. I have a feeling I will be using that phrase a whole LOT. I also printed out maps, maps and more tiny little maps, upon which I scribbled notable attractions and points of interest. Of course, with so many places that need to be visited, I need to be careful to not overextend myself on drinking too much wine during my, sure to be, numerous nights out. My hangovers have been getting more severe lately - I think it's cause I am getting older - and I cannot afford to spend an entire day in a hotel bed, when there is so much beauty to be seen.

My friends and Mr. January instructed me on not speaking to anyone at the airport and the metro. Mr. J scared me with some stories of two girls being picked up at Charles de Gaulle airport and being sold into slavery. Sweet, it's not like I was already a little apprehensive of meeting French men with curly hair who do not know the importance of using deodorant.

Despite the warnings and my complete lack of knowledge of the French language, I have no doubts that this will be an adventure that I will remember for the rest of my life. With all the upcoming sight seeing, partying, dining and debauchering, my only regret is that Mr. J won't be there to experience it all with me. After all, what a perfect setting it would be for us to explore the romance capital of the world, before he goes away to law school. Oh well... maybe someday, if we'e still dating and have the money, I will let him propose to me atop of the Eiffel Tower. Hell, I will let anyone propose to me at the Eiffel Tower - just feed me a bucket of wine first.

But I think I am getting ahead of myself just a little bit here.

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May Be Lost/But Not Forgotten

Ya know what? I like this. I like being in love. I got a hold of myself shortly after I broke down like a little school girl during the last post and was finally able to evaluate the situation with Mr. January after clearing my head with some sobering thoughts:

-Chances are that Mr. J and I will NOT end up together. Does that bother me? Yes. Am I coming in terms with it? Somewhat. Am I letting it stop me from enjoying myself and the way my heart feels at the moment? Absolutely not.

-I am still allowed to flirt with other sexy guys out there. Granted, I was never much of a flirter - I hardly ever giggle and bat my eyelashes and act a cute little fool in front of a guy, unless I am on a DATE date. Granted that when I am infatuated with someone (ahemmrJahem), it is very hard for me to notice someone else, even if it is Ryan Reynolds walking down the street shirtless (okay... maybe i'd notice Mr. Abs-of-Steel-Reynolds.... but he's one in a million). And this is coming from Miss Wandering Eye, as I never miss an opportunity to silently drool over a hottie if he happens to cross my path. No, no, when I am infatuated with someone, he is the only guy who occupies all of my thoughts - there is no room for any other hunky poster boys. Nevertheless, I need to remind myself that I can still enjoy being single, regardless of my feelings for Mr. January

-Mr. J is just a reminder that there ARE wonderful guys out there who are cute AND smart. I mean, I am so continuously refreshed by the fact that Mr. J has the looks and the BRAINS. As I get older, I am becoming increasingly intolerant of guys who have nothing intelligent to say or have no personality. I remember this one time I went on a date with this guy who didn't know who Sarah Palin was, and that was right before the election!!! I wanted to smack him silly and shake the boy to his senses. What a waste of a human being it is when a person does not possess a thirst for knowledge. What a mistake it is to think that someone who loves books and learning needs necessarily to fulfill the stereotype of a nerdy geek and be dull and boring in all other aspects!

-Mr. J is studying to be a lawyer. That means 80-hour weeks of work - hardcore, grueling hard-as nails work, but the truth is... I need someone like that! My passion for my profession is tough to handle by those who are not passionate about their jobs themselves. I seek to find an individual who can work hard, be happy about the work he does, and carry that happiness over into other aspects of his life. I want a guy who pulls long work hours like me, comes home ready to kick off the night in style, takes me out to an amazing restaurant to savor the irresistible flavors of French, or Italian, or Russian, or Japanese food, then comes back home with me for a night of mind-blowing love making. Though I am 25, I still have the energy of a 15 year old and I'd love for a guy to share my indispensible love for life with me, instead of moaning and groaning about work and being a couch potato.

All in all, my rant's purpose here is to motivate myself to embrace the love that I am feeling right now, to not be afraid of getting hurt (if heartbreak is in the cards). The truth is - I am thankful for Mr. J, however fleeting his presence in my life may be. He reminded me why it is so good and healthy to love and why opening up my heart is always worth it.

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WIshing Away....

I kept telling myself this entire time - "You can't fall in love with him." There is no realistic future - he's going to law school, he will be too busy and I will be too busy for a relationship. We will be so far away from each other, I can't afford to wait for him for three years or close to it until he gets his degree, he is not going to wait for me and going to go on living his life.

Just yesterday, he told me that he can't imagine having a relationship in law school because work will take up so much of his time... he wasn't addressing the girlfriend/relationship comment specifically to me, it was just a general conversation snippet that got stuck in my mind. I knew what I was signing up for when I allowed myself to be close to him. I knew from the get go that he didn't want a relationship. I knew it all along. I told him I was on the same page with him and, for a while at least, I was.

Yet, of course, I gradually fell in love, despite my better judgment.

I am disgusted for being so melodramatic right now. This is so not me. Just months ago I was worried sick that I completely lost my ability to love because it's been such a long time since someone had touched my heart in a really profound way. And here I am now, undeniably, head over heels. This guy is everything I want - I love his eyes, his smile, his sense of humor, his confidence, his personality. I love that gentle way he kisses my forehead, making me melt inside. I love the way he hugs me.... I can't joke around any more, diluting myself into thinking that I am impartial to this whole fling with Mr. January.

Because, God damn it, I am so in love. When he left to go home today, I sat in my bed and balled my eyes out for about five minutes because I so did not want him to leave. More than anything, I wanted to ask him to stay, to wrap his arms around me, kiss me on my forehead and tell me that he was going to be my guy. That we are going to get through all of the trials and tribulations together. That I would see him again very very soon.

I am so worried that this will be my biggest heartbreak yet and I don't want to repeat the fiasco from two years ago when a guy simply shattered my heart and the pain was so paralyzing that I could not sleep. That guy was just someone I met at a bar. Mr. January is my good friend - I am attracted to him on every level - and I think that this is what might make my potential heartbreak even more painful.

I don't ever, ever want to feel that pain again. It is my worst nightmare to lose my good friend and to have my heart broken all at once. I feel like such an angsty teenager writing this but I cannot help it because I can't even tell my family about this situation. I am so torn up inside right now and 0n the verge of tears. I wish I could have been more careful, I wish I could shut myself off from feeling anything right now. But I can't. I am so in love and I can't help it. I just can't help it any more.

Mr. January, I hope you never read this, but I am so in love with you.

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Love and Sex

Goddamn it. I done did it again. I promised myself that I would keep my feelings in check and remain as neutral as possible about Mr. January, in an attempt to keep it as casual with him as humanly possible. Well. It all flew right out of my little window the minute Mr. J decided to come see me this weekend.The last time I hung out with him was back in April and I was sure that seeing him this weekend wouldn't really change my situation with him. I was wrong. The situation remains somewhat unchanged, however, my feelings have, in fact, evolved in an undesirable direction.

Mr. J called me just prior to parking in front of my apartment building and I took the elevator down to meet him in the lobby. He was looking great, leaning against his car, awaiting me. I gave him a welcoming hug and, as he wrapped his arms around me, I realized how much I've missed his hugs. We instantly reconnected - he was still that charming, funny, confident, sexy man I remember him to be. He was still that guy I was insanely attracted to. It was during our dinner at a quaint Irish restaurant and just before going dancing at a club (where, BY THE WAY, some random dude tried to offer us money for dancing at our table... joke or not, I was puzzled by that gesture, to say the least) that I decided that Mr. J will be the guy who's going to end my dry spell of a year and a half.

To say that we spent a magnificent night together would be an understatement, because I am pretty sure we were both quite spectacular. There might as well have been fireworks and a parade for us because, I think, this was the best romp I've ever had with anyone. And not to toot my own horn, but I am pretty sure that he had no complaints about me either.

Of course, in the heat of the drunken, passionate moment he said something last night to me that I kind of wish I would have been too drunk to remember. I am pretty sure he didn't mean it, but it was something that, instantly and inwardly, turned me into a big pile of mush. He asked me if I wanted to be his girl, and, naturally, I laughed it off as just another drunken statement, as a joke coming from a guy wanting to get into my pants.

However, this morning, as the sober clarity bestowed itself upon my mind, I realized that I DID want him to be serious. I did want him to ask me to be his girlfriend - long distance relationship or not - I wanted him all for myself, exclusively. I didn't want him to tell me about other girls, other crushes if he had any. I wanted him to be mine and mine only.

The scent of his Cartier cologne remained lingering in my hair long after he left to go home this morning. I thought about him constantly today, obsessing in thinking about the next time I might see him again, wondering whether our night together would ultimately change our friendship.

I think the best and the strongest romantic relationship you can ever develop is with a good friend. You've already got the foundation - similar interests, views and quirks. Even with physical attraction in the mix, sex does not become the focal point, but just strengthens the already existing bond. I've got both of those things - the physical and the mental connection - going with Mr. January. Deep inside, I am hoping he realizes sometime how good we would be together.

I can picture myself with Mr. January, frolicking happily in a field of flowers, surrounded by rainbows and unicorns but the near impossibility of such an outcome is already breaking my stupid heart that, somewhere along the way, managed to get itself into another strong emotional attachment.

Fuck.

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Jealousy Woes

Mr. January is supposed to drive down to L-ville this or next weekend, and I am pretty thrilled to see him. We have been pretty casual with each other - each understanding that our immediate priorities lie elsewhere besides dating each other but also recognizing that, damn, we share an awesome physical connection (and it doesn't hurt that our personalities mesh well too).

Yesterday, however, in our conversation through a series of text messages, I caught a glimpse of a side of him that I was not aware of. I might be mistaking and basking too much in my own naivete, but I think he was... jealous. Jealous of me dating other people.

He texted me with an advise about his impending move to law school but the conversation quickly turned to a subject of dating.

MJ: You been dating someone? I haven't heard from you...
Me: No, I haven't been on any dates lately. I was gonna ask you if you were planning on coming down here one night this weekend?
MJ: Wow, one night huh? I'd like to for sure. Which night would work best?
Me: Saturday would work for me. I am taking Sunday off from work.
MJ: Sat better than Fri?
Me: Yeah, but I need to know what you're planning on doing by this Thursday. My friend wants to come down from Cinci to see this DJ at a club. I don't care for the DJ so I could tell him that I'm not gonna go with him. I'd rather see you.
MJ: Well if you have other guys to schedule me around, that's not fun.
Me: He's just a friend. Strictly platonic.
MJ: Uh huh lol. Just a friend driving 5 hours to stay the night and sleep on the couch.
Me: It's a 2 hr drive, and yes.
MJ: It's hard for me to believe youre not hookin up with these guys friends of yours. Cause no guy drives that far just to see a DJ...

I hesitate to text back... I am not used to Mr. January question my actions. He can't be jealous of my friends - my friends mean everything to me. So what if they're guys?

MJ: I am just careful with who I see and if they're seeing multiple guys, I just don't do it. You seem to always be having guys come stay the night lol
Me: Well I'm not hooking up with anyone if that's what you're implying. I told you 90% of people in my architecture program are guys. That's why I have so many guy friends.
MJ: Yeah but, I know guys too. And they never drive 2 hours to see a girl and stay the night just for a DJ. It's just you go on dates and have guys spend the night and drive from Cinci to see you all the time... what am I supposed to think?
Me: I only had 2 guys make the drive. It's really not that far. I'd make that drive to Cinci for a friend. But I think you should come this Saturday - I think you're cute and I wanna make out with you :P
MJ: But how many dates/ other friends you say that to? I mean we all know several different guys don't just come that far for nothing.
Me: Trust me you're the only "friend" I tell I wanna make out with.
MJ: I don't know if I'll come this weekend. Wouldn't wanna ruin your "friends" date.
Me: Well I have never been the type to hook up with my friends and I don't want to defend myself for something I don't do. I don't know anyone in this city - of course, I want my friends to visit me, who wouldn't? I don't know who you take me for, but I am not a slut who sleeps around with everyone.
MJ: I do believe you. Hard to believe but I'll believe you.

and seconds later...

MJ: Obviously I don't wanna just be a part of your normal rotation of guys. But what am I supposed to think? Put yourself in my shoes.
Me: We've been talking and hanging out for 6 months. Obviously, you're not just a part of a rotation as you call it.
MJ: But if you have plans with a dude, I wouldn't wanna interrupt.
Me: I'd rather make plans with you.
MK: Ok, I'll see what's up. You still want me?

After that we kind of mended things. Even though I was a little taken aback by his jealousy (?), I was kind of turned on by the fact that he appeared to care a little.

Okay, so I'm not stupid. I should know that I have every right to make out with any guy I please because Mr. January and I are not together. Whether he likes it or not, I will continue going on dates, continue seeing other people, regardless of what he thinks. Of course, I won't dive into details with him as to whom I've been kissing and who bought me a drink - I can see now that it's been bruising his ego. But then again, he really has no right to expect me to sit loyally by my phone and wait for him to call me, meanwhile remaining as chaste as a nun.

If things were different, I'd want him as my boyfriend. In this situation, however, I am not letting things go anywhere beyond lust - and that means keeping other people (guys) around me to occupy my mind.

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Turning 21... Yet Again

I usually celebrate my birthdays with lots of booze at a bar with a bunch of friends - but this year... this year will be different. Don't get me wrong I will still be drinking it up at some point next week in honor of my big two-five, but the day of the anniversary of my twenty-first birthday will be spent at a classy, quaint restaurant with my rents. They are flying in all the way from Philadelphia to spend the weekend with me and I cannot relay how much I appreciate that gesture.

When I lived with them, there were many of times that we didn't get along, although I never lost the sense of how lucky I was to have parents like them. They have always been there for me, through my awkward teenage years, through my trials and tribulations of college, through my stupid alcohol induced car crash a few years back, through the biggest heartbreak of my life, through my journey through grad school. I could always count on finding peace and understanding in that little house at the intersection or R Street and J Street in Northeast Philly suburbia - no matter how many miles separated me from the place I will always call home.

Sure, ideally I'd like there to be a special guy to surprise me with flowers, take me out to a lovely dinner, and do the whole birthday wine-and-dine thing. However, I feel that if I was in a relationship I wouldn't have been able to achieve what I have thus far in my life. And though love is important, I am patient enough to wait for it. As long as it takes, baby, I will be here.

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Can't Kiss Frogs Any More

I had a pretty horrible date on Friday with this guy... and it was kind of my fault. He was a creepster and I should have known it from a get-go when we were sitting at a bar and he was fidgeting in his bar stool, telling me about an all-night rave that he went to in Detroit a few days ago. Now, I've been to an occasional rave myself.. but at his age of 29, I'd advise him to keep his mouth shut or talk about, oh, more age-appropriate activities, like drinking scotch with his co-workers or flying to Vegas for a best friend's bachelor party.

Of course, the vodka tonics I had the stupidity of consuming kicked in at the most inopportune time, and I thought that the rave story was rather "charming". So we go dancing afterwards and he proceeds to get sloshed and then complains at the end of the night about a $60 dollar bill. First of all, it's ONLY 60 dollars. Second of all - duh, the drinks are not, and will never be, free. Not to you, creepy 29-year old who attempted dancing on an empty dance floor and clapping your hands as if you still were at an all-night rave. I was not drunk enough then to not feel the wave of embarassment from the raised eyebrows of the bartenders when you were making a fool of yourself. Trust me, a 60 dollar bill should be the least of your worries.

Unfortunately, I took pity on the guy after all and let his sleep it off on my couch in apartment because he was in no shape to drive. On a side note, I really should stop going on dates to establishments near my place, because somehow, mysteriously, everyone always ends up mentioning how they are "too tired to drive" or had "one too many to feel comfortable driving".

The next morning I walk out of my room and what do I see? Yeah, he's still sleeping on my couch, two empty beer bottles on a coffee table in front of him. The freeloader found my Coronas in the fridge and decided to drink them, after I fell asleep in my room. He also found my frozen pizza I keep in my fridge for snacking emergencies, threw the remains of it out, not into a trash can, but into my bin of art supplies that was stored nearby, ate the remains of my bacon and oh yeah, when my best friend called me at 3 in the morning, he answered the phone, told my friend that "She's busy" and hung up.

Of course I found out about the phone call later, after he left and my friend called once again, sick with worries. When I woke the freeloader up, however, the only thing I was pissed about was him drinking my beer and eating my pizza.

"You should probably go get you car," I told him, after poking his side a number of times before he finally woke up.

"What time is it?"

"It's almost ten... you should go get your car or it will get towed," I didn't even know where exactly he parked his car, nor did I really care. I needed him out of my apartment pronto.

I finally did get him out. Thank. God. No more of this, no more vodka tonics. No creepy dudes that eat my food at ungodly hours of the night and make my friends think that I have been left dead in a ditch somewhere.

Of course, I receive a text message from him later on in the day, "Anytime you wanna hang out just let me know. Again thanks 4 letting me stay at ur place. Ur an amazing woman." Anytime I wanna hang, huh? How about never? Does never work for you?

After he left I had this feeling like I wanted to scrub my entire body with a bar of soap or with an industrial size ultasonic cleaner (but those are more expensive...) and just spend the entire day soaking in a bath tub. I felt like his germs somehow transposed themselves on me and were now crawling and multiplying on my skin - always multiplying, never sleeping as if they were at an all-night rave.

As I was nursing my killer hang over, I got to thinking about all of this. Why am I such a serial dater? Why do I not go with my gut instinct and just end my dates early when I know they are going down into a gutter? Frankly, I am still getting the skeebie-jibbies just thinking about the 29-year old and his creepy ways - and those are not the kind of memories I want to be making. I can honestly say that, if I could turn back the hands of time, I would NOT go on a date with the over-the-hill raver. I can also honestly say that vodka tonics are now the latest additions to my list of no-no drinks - taking their well-deserved place right next to tequila.

The only good thing about my lazy, non-productive Saturday, spent, interchangably, between contemplating hurling my insides into my friend The Toilet and spending my time on a couch in a semi-coma, was a text from Mr. January. But that's a whole another post in it of itself.

After all, in all of the array of bad and forgettable dates, in a medley of guys who do not call me back and the guys who call too much, Mr. January is the only man capable of breaking my heart. And for now, I kind of like it that way.

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He Loves Me Not

I have been thinking... and thinking and thinking and thinking... and I can't stop thinking about him - my friend with (phone) benefits - Mr. January. He's been popping up on my mind more often than usual lately. I thought about him on Wednesday when I came across an article about the law school he got accepted to and I thought about him again on Friday, while I was having dinner with my friend. I even thought about him again yesterday when I was out on a mini-date with a new guy.

It was sometime during that last delicious scoop of the mint chocolate ice cream melting in my mouth that I looked at my date and I silently wondered to myself just what flavor of ice cream it was that Mr. January preferred. I couldn't find the answer off the top of my head and I made a mental note to ask him about it the next time I talk to him. I was surprised at my wandering thoughts because I was having a perfectly good time with this new guy, yet here I was... sitting at a cafe, thinking about another man.

That night I even went as far as looking at Mr. January's profile on Facebook. My first tell-tale sign that I like someone is when I check their Facebook just to see if they had any recent activity - status updates, personal info changes. While I was doing that, I was mentally beating myself over my head with an imaginary shovel because I was fully aware of the warning sign. I cannot, simply cannot, allow myself to like Mr. January. We're totally casual. Just friends.

Nevertheless, when my phone woke me up with its vibrations around 1am last night, my fury of being unceremoniously woken up was quickly replaced with joy when Mr. January's name lit up on the caller ID.

"Hello?" I tried to stifle my excitement and attempted to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"Hey, are you still out?... Or did I wake you up?" he inquired.

I was beginning to feel very eager to talk, as it is on very rare occasions that he calls me twice a week. In fact, just earlier in the night I was thinking about how I should resist texting him, since we had already spoken once on Wednesday. I tend to adhere to our unspoken once-a-week-conversation rule pretty religiously and now I am beginning to realize that this rule needs to remain firmly in place if I want any real chance of not getting too attached to this guy.

"No, I was in bed but wasn't sleeping." I lied to him in response.

"Oh good, I was hoping you'd be awake. I miss talking to you," he sounded almost tender in the way he said it. Of course, my mind might have played tricks on me in my still half-awake state. Then again, Mr. January has always had a way of sounding like he gives a damn about me... without ever actually making that much of an effort to pursue any kind of relationship, beyond friendship.

I guess what I am trying to say and am afraid to admit is that I kind of like Mr. January as more than just a friend or a friend with benefits. I guess it saddens me a little knowing that, realistically, even if we both wanted to be with each other on more serious terms... it would be pretty impossible considering our current respective career goals and aspirations.

I've liked him in some capacity for five months now... and five months is a pretty long time to feel passionate about a person. I've seen this attraction, not diminish, but grow stronger over time. I don't want to fall in love with him.

I will not fall in love, I will not fall in love... repeat, repeat, repeat until it's working.

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Good Days Taste So Sweet

1. I got a second chance. Plagiarism is the thing of the past. I am allowed to continue writing for the web site. I even got an advanced payment on my most recent (not plagiarized) article.

2. I got a second part-time job at a high-end boutique, selling women's clothes. I cannot wait for my employee discount to kick in so I can FINALLY buy my summer wardrobe, as well as a new cell phone, new headphones, new Coach bag and a really awesome T-shirt fom Lady Gaga's web site.

3. I was offered an opportunity to put together a biography and a presentation for the next recipient of the 2009 Athena Award. I am elated to get a chance to write about a guy who's considered to be a near-legend in some academic circles.

4. I got a guy's number. Or to be more exact, he got mine. A friend of mine and I were happy-houring at this restaurant downtown and this guy was there with his work buddies. We locked eyes a couple of times. Then I went to the bathroom, and as I was walking out, he was in line to use the men's room. He immediately struck up a conversation with me and, as it turned out, he just moved to Louisvillea couple of weeks ago for a job, just like I did. He asked me for my number and I asked him skeptically, "Why?"

"So I can call you up and we can hang out, of course," he smiled.

It's great to feel like I am worth something - professionally and personally - and be able to back that feeling up with recent accomplishments. I'm flying high and I am grateful for every second of it.

What a good day.

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My Life. In Ruins.

I'll keep it brief as I am not much of a whiner. (Yeah, right.)

I am in the middle of a shitstorm that started this morning when the content manager for a web site I publish articles for informed me that I was guilty of plagiarism in at least two of my works. My entire writing portfolio is under a strict review and my fate will be decided within the next week. The best possible scenario I can hope for is that I will be allowed to continue my writing and continue collecting revenue from my already-published articles. The worst case scenario is something I do not even want to think about and that is, I will no longer be allowed to write for the web site and all of my articles written over the last two and a half years will be deleted.

The problem is - I did plagiarize, though I didn't see it as plagiarism when I wrote the texts. I frantically checked all of my articles ( about 200 of them) in a plagiarism finder type of software, upon hearing the alarming news. I found at least eight articles where I spotted plagiarized phrases. The content manager informed me that, as he looks through all of my articles thoroughly, he will be able to forgive me if there are only a few instances of plagiarism. And I am afraid that while 90% of my work is completely original content, those eight articles might just be the straws the break the camel's back.

I'm sorry I, unknowingly, plagiarized. I really am. I really feel like if I am no longer allowed to write, a part of my identity will be taken away from me. I have been as passionate about writing and I am about architecture and lately, I have been writing daily because I just have that fire inside of me that urges me to write and write and write. I don't want that part of me to be taken away. I despise my situation because I am the only one who contributed to my own demise.

Keep your fingers crossed for me and I promise to never ever plagiarize again!

On a personal note, my love life is heading down the toilet as well, though with interesting consequences of which I will speak later, when my mind isn't so preoccupied.

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Best. Date.Ever.

I'd like to reminisce for a moment and go back about two years ago, to what I often referred to, up until this point, the Best Date Ever. You see, what made it so good was the fact that the guy made the reservations, showed up on time, complimented me on looking absolutely fantastic, pulled out my chair for me, paid for everything, smiled just the right way, talked about all the right things. The chemistry was so electric that night that I could have jumped his bones right then and there. When we decided to stop by a sophisticated cocktail lounge after our magic dinner, I realized that what made out date so good was one thing and one thing only - I didn't feel like just some girl, I felt like an extraordinary woman. That feeling was like a drug. It spread from that tickle of butterflies in my stomach up to my heart and throat and brain and down to my tippy toes. I could almost see Disney-like sparks in the air that night and, up until now, I was afraid that I would never experience that magic again.

It all changed last night, when I drove out to Indiana to go on a date with the Club Guy whom I met during the Derby week. I was reluctant, I was not sure what to expect - after all I had to drive for 90 minutes to the house of an almost-complete stranger. I packed my trusty pepper spray with me but was still apprehensive and unsure what the night might bring.

I arrived at a jaw-dropping, brand-spanking-new house... no.... mansion would be the more accurate word to describe his 5 bedroom, 3 bath house. I was startled when I pulled up to his drive-way - he told me he had money and I should have guessed that he wasn't lying because he kept ordering Grey Goose in the VIP just a week before, but so many guys brag about money that they don't have that I don't ever pay attention to anything related to financial matters that comes out of a guy's mouth. I am also very skeptical of those who try to impress their dates with their money - I am and never will be a gold-digger. If you have money, that's awesome - if you don't, all I am asking is that you have that drive and ambition to eventually get somewhere in life. Everything else is not imporant.

He was looking hot when he opened the door of his house for me and, I suppose, he felt the same way about me as he complimented me on my outfit. We started off with a splash of wine in our glasses as I unwinded from a long drive on his couch. The conversation was flowing smoothly and effortlessly, even despite us finding out that we had opposite political views. He presented intelligent arguments of his views and I rebutted his convictions with my own - I was on an intellectual roll and completely in the zone. He seemed to be impressed.

He announced that we had reservations at 8pm at a nearby restaurant and we finished our wine. He insisted on driving and as I stepped into his garage I immediately noticed his elegant black ML 350. The Club Guy opened the passenger door for me and there I was, being whisked away in a beautiful Mercedes to our dinner destination.

The restaurant was amazing as well - the food, the wine, the conversation everything was just right. That magic... the magic from the former Best Date Ever from two years ago... I could feel it again, and it wasn't because of his mansion, or his car... it was because he was bright and intelligent and, frankly, really hot. I was swept off my feet with the gallantry, and the door opening, and the compliments. I felt like that extraordinary woman again. I missed that feeling.

I don't know what's going to happen between me and the Club Guy from this point on - will the fling ever progress into something more? It's hard to say because he lives relatively far away, because he is going to Vegas for a week next weekend and I won't be seeing him for at least two weeks, because he made a promise to come and see me soon but I am not assured that he will stay true to that promise, because he probably has 20 girls waiting to jump him. And even though I've got a damn good personality, I am aware that men can get rather easily distracted by a new pair of beautiful legs.

Am I overly cynical? Perhaps. Am I glad that I went on this date? Absolutely. A part of me was still holding on to the past because of the date two years ago. I was still longing for that feeling of magic that I thought I could never regain. And if anything... if Club Guy and I end our romance right here and now... I am still grateful for having him help me turn the page of my dating book to a new chapter. I just needed a little reminder that someone out there still thinks I am worth being treated like an amazing woman, and now, feeling rejuvenated, I am ready to take on the world once again.

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Boys, Boys, Boys

So, Jesus Christ Mary and Joseph, have I been dating up a storm lately. It's no secret that I have been single for a while, and it's becoming painfully apparent, even to the most stubborn of my friends, that I, no matter what I may or may not say, really like being single. A relationship would be great, sure, but no one I am seeing right now is peaking my interest enough for me to even start thinking about that stage of dating. Right now, it's all fun and games... and maybe it's just me, but I swear, I have never enjoyed this much attention until I moved to Louisville.

No kidding. I don't know if it's the Southern sun, the water, or the air - but I get hooted and hollered at almost daily, sometimes several times a day. I get sort of insecure about that... I mean, I like when someone hits on me at a club and buys me a drink or whatever. However, when I am walking to my car on my way to work, or taking a leisurely stroll, I don't want any eyes on me. In Louisville, it may not be all eyes on me, but it sure feels like it.

The first guy that I am sort of seeing right now is the Bar Owner. As a matter of fact, we have a dinner date tomorrow night at a restaurant downtown. He constantly tells me he misses me. He's tall, reasonably handsome, reasonably educated and smart. The negative aspects that I am seeing with him is his family, whom I didn't get the chance to meet yet but who strike me as a little... low brow. More specifically, his father seems to have a pretty severe alcohol problem and his mother is a pill popper. The Bar Owner, quite understandably, doesn't live with either of them but still maintains a close relationship as, I suppose, he should. Quite frankly though, his dysfunctional fam is a turn-off for me and this factor might be what, ultimately, brings this relationship to an end.

The second guy is the guy I met last weekend at a club downtown, when I was out with a couple of my new Louisville friends. He was well-dressed and equally as well-spoken. We chatted for a while and as his friends were about to migrate to another drinking establishment, we exchanged numbers to meet up later on in the night. Around midnight, as my friends were all ready to leave as they had to get up bright and early for the Kentucky Derby, I received a text message from the Club Guy, telling me to come meet him at a club next door. His text said "We got bottle service in the VIP. You should come." Um, how could I say no to that?!

So I go over there and hang out and dance while being catered to by about five different bartenders. I find out he is kind of a big deal - case and point two of his friends who just happen to be football players for the NY Giants and hanging out in the same VIP area - just chilling and talking and mingling with us. One of them even kissed my hand! Of course I digress...

As the story goes, Club Guy and I hang out again the next night, again in the VIP, again with the New York Giants, and he finally leaves to go home to Indiana the next day. I fully expected to never hear from him again but so far he's been calling and texting every day, asking me to go on a date with him, promising me the world with a cherry on top. He seems a bit shady and I don't know if he's genuine in his pursuit or if he's intrigued by the fact that I don't really give it up and spread my legs for the guys I date, unless I get pretty serious with them. Maybe he's in it for the challenge alone.

And, would you believe it, there is a guy # 3 in my life. You can find my entries about him way back in January - he is the one who decided not to hang out with me on Valentine's Day (real winner, sure..). I rarely see him any more because we now live about 3 hours apart. Hell, who am I kidding, I don't see him any more at all, but we talk almost daily and I still have this crazy sexual attraction for him. The kind that is like... whoa. The kind that I experienced only one other time in my life, with the guy who I've been friends with for a long time and who was pretty much amazing in bed every time we did it.

So, Mr. January, as I'd like to call him, is the only guy who I can really see myself being with and he's also the only guy I can really see myself being just friends with as well - he's got the looks, the charm, the wit, the smarts. He's got an AMAZING personality... and the phone sex is great. We are pretty much friends with (phone) benefits right now, and maybe it's just me but hey, after over a year of not getting any in real life, the phone sex with him is ALWAYS earth-shattering.

So here are my men - The Bar Owner, The Club Guy, and Mr. January - who all have their pros and cons. And here I am - the girl who doesn't know what she wants and is just having a little innocent, PG-13 fun. What adventures/mishaps/hilarious consequences will this lead to? Only God and time can tell, but I, personally, can't wait to find out.

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The Hottie and The Nottie

I was sitting at an outdoor bar, flipping through the latest issue of Architectural Digest and sipping on Red Bull and vodka on a fine Wednesday afternoon. The crowds around me were rowdy and copious, as everyone and their mother were out doing various pre-Derby activities, which mainly, as I found out, consist of drinking and attending free outdoor country concerts. Hoping to see Michael Jordan or James Gandolfini, who are rumored to attend the Derby annually, I lift my head up from time to time and survey the crowds. I spot a fat woman wearing an oversized vest, dragging her screaming kids through the sea of people. I spot a man with many wrinkles under his eyes talking in an exasperated tone on his iPhone. I spot a crowd of college kids with beer bottles in their hands and band names on their T-shirts.

I spot a gorgeous man in a business suit sitting across the bar from me... Holy crap, how did I not notice him before? I carefully take a sip of my drink and look at him again. Very sexy, indeed. He's on his Blackberry. His portfolio and drink are placed in front him in a careless manner - he's having what I am having. Red Bull and vodka - good choice. I put aside Architectural Digest and pretend to concentrate on a game on TV at the center of the bar.

"Want another one?" the bartender asks me in passing and points to my drink.

"Sure, why not," I reply.

The hot guy is now done with his Blackberry for the moment. He looks at me for a brief second with a half smile on his face then turns his attention to the TV. He reaches for his drink and as his fingers wrap around the hefty glass, I notice no ring on his finger. Interesting.

The crowds at the bar begin to get denser. It is now just after 6pm and all the business suits are rushing in to grab a cold drink and forget about their meetings, expense reports and and power lunches. The hot guy gets up to walk to the restroom, I presume - as he walks to the covered portion of the bar, he turns his head slightly and looks at me again. I feel a hint of blush on the verge of manifesting itself on my face and i quickly take another sip of my drink. That guy is gorgeous.

Late twenties, maybe early thirties, I think. Sexy and single, or at least not married, I think. Beautifully tailored suit too, must have some money, must be successful in what he does, I think and swoon silently on my bar stool.

"Excuse me, I couldn't help but notice that magazine you were reading not too long ago."

I snap out of my day dream and look over to my side for the source of the voice. A man in his fifties with a receding hairline and a laptop in his lap addresses me with a smile.

"Oh yes, i was just trying to read up on some stuff I am researching for my thesis," I say as I pull out the magazine to show him, "It's called Architectural Digest, comes out about four times a year."

The guy flips through my magazine, as I anxiously await for him to give it back to me so I can move on with my life and turn my attention back to the hottie who is now back in his seat. No such luck as the old guy strikes up a conversation.

"I am in real estate," (aren't we all?) he says, " This stuff fascinates me."

I smile, still not convinced if I should talk to him but I throw out a few pleasantries as to not appear to be a rigid bitch. Of course, he takes my comments to be an invitation to a conversation and slides his stool closer to mine. I look over at the hot guy with a mild look of fear and annoyance in my eyes. He picks up on that and smiles at me.

The old guy turns out to be a decent conversationalist and, as he offers to buy me a drink, I reluctantly accept. He starts telling me about his ex-wife and the painful divorce process he had to go through. Fascinating. I keep looking over at the hottie as he slowly finishes up his drink and waves the bartender over for his credit card.

Powerless to stop the old man from talking, I watch as the hot guy signs the receipt, grabs his portfolio and Blackberry and walks out of the bar onto the crowded Louisville street. One last glance from him as he is about to disappear in the crowd, and I feel my heart sink a little. I blew it.

The old man keeps buying me drinks to get me liquored up and introduces me to the bartender and a few regulars around us. I don't mind his company, but I would rather be sitting next to my hottie right now. A few people say hi to the old guy and he introduces me to them - they eye me up and down sceptically, unaware of the fact that he just met me and, no doubt, thinking that I am THAT girl.

Unfortunately, when I get a good buzz going, I become a chatty companion and around 9pm or so the old guy and I are good friends - talking about New York, and architecture, and the Derby. I tell him that I want to go but don't have the tickets and he says that he will gladly take me and even buy me a dress and a hat. I laugh in response and tell him to take me shopping the next day. God, I am a freaking fool.

The old guy walks me home and gets my number, promising to call me the next morning. I secretly hope that he doesn't, but I also cannot be mean to him if he does. I simply don't want to go to the Derby with him but I can't flat out reject him because he seems to be kind of a big deal and this town is too small to be making enemies. My strategy is to tell him that my friends from Cincinnati are coming to visit me this weekend and to thank him for the generous offer. I really don't want any part of this fuckery and though he appears to be a nice, genuine guy, I am more than aware of his intentions towards me.

To that I say, no, thank you. Where did my hot guy go?

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