Finals Week

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

"WAKE UP! WAKE UP!"

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

"WAKE UP! WAKE UP!"

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

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

"WAKE UP! WAKE THE FUCK UP!"

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

Okay, okay, I'm up.

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On Getting Revenge

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

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

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

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

Tuesday, November 13:

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

Wednesday, November 14:

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

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

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

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

Thursday, November 15:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Friday, November 16:

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

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

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What Goes Around...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Mission [IM]Possible

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

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

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

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

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Three Weeks

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

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

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

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

Incoming call from... Mom

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

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

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

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

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Late Night Confessions/Make Out Sessions

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

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

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

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

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

"Well, what are you thinking right now?"

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

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

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

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

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

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Wakey, Wakey!

Hello ,World,

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

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

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

Dear Sweater,

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

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

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

-L.

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