Monday, May 18, 2009

'cause when I was single, my pockets did jingle, and I wish I was single again

~fiery furnaces

okay, so maaaaaaaybe that's not actually really true. even a little. I don't want to be single again. but there are some things about being single that I'm starting to miss.

like butterflies.
and planning actual dates.
and not talking about getting married.

I have been thinking about getting married for OVER.A.YEAR. To a man who just yesterday told me that he "isn't really sure who he is" and "is feeling scattered" and "just doesn't know." glory be, best news ever.

did I mention that at the wedding on saturday I caught the bouquet and he caught the garter? yep. rocktastic.

I think that the life of someone in a committed relationship is actually a lot more tiresome than one whose dating. It's less complicated and less like a rollercoaster, but it just plain wears you out.

I miss having no pants parties. And watching Grey's whenever I wanted. And naps. And takeout. And not thinking "when will he get his act together?" And I miss having fewer worries. I mean, overall net worry quota? SO much lower than it was, say, two years and change ago. But.

I am just having a bout of stupid and taken instead of smart and single right now. I'll get over it. Pinkie swear.


Wednesday, May 21, 2008

comfortably single

I have a boyfriend.
We are "serious."
We are not living together.
or engaged.
or even sharing a cell phone plan.
and I am not authorized to use his blockbuster card.

and me? I'm okay with this. I mean, I have breakdown moments when I get veryveryvery upset that I am not on the path to alleged marital bliss, but I've been there, done that and got the tshirt. The tshirt and the special box to check that says "divorced." I mean, not that I don't want to get married, and not that I want it to be three years away, but as my boyfriend puts it "we aren't in a race to the aisle."

though sometimes it seems like maybe we are. le sigh.

so. I've been going to weddings. LOTS of weddings. with lots of people. friends. romans. countrymen. etc.

and I gotta tell ya--being "single" ain't so bad.

first off, there's the soon-to-not-be-single bride. the last two I've been around have been oddly calm, in the kind of way that means that previously they were suuuuuper stressed. I love them both, and I must say I'm quite relieved the stress is gone.

but then, there's the crazy folks going after the garter or the bouquet, which can be fun unless someone's getting all puncy. Or the people who go to weddings fully expecting to have random sex with a stranger, or there's the part where because I don't have a shiny bauble on my left ring finger suddenly old men (older than my father would be!) feel like it's okay to flirt with me or comment on my ass. that's not so awesome.

but I got to dance with my boyfriend. and have him get me drinks. and have other guys get me drinks before my boyfriend came into town. :)

anyway, rambling.

thinking about the future a lot. though I mentioned previously that I'm just fine with our situation I sometimes feel like I'm falling short of other's expectations. Or that I'm not fitting into the box that others place me. Like my granny who wants me to never live with (or sleep with, or hug-to-long) a guy to whom I am not married. Or my well-meaning friends who pester me (or him) with timeline questions. (which, honestly, who doesn't love having a friend who will ask your significant other what the hell he's thinking? except I am blessed with having quite a few people who are totally willing to ask!) But worst of all is that I know people whose relationships seem to be on fast-forward, and I, like any girl, don't like feeling like I'm behind pace. Even though I know, veryvery well, that I am not.

this doesn't seem like it has a point. and maybe it doesn't, other than to remind me that this is a part of the process, and when I don't have the single boys flirting and there's no longer an element of "I don't know" I think I might miss it, just a little bit. maybe.


Saturday, December 22, 2007

The Light At The End of the Tunnel...

So, from the statcounter, I can see our readership has fallen off.. likely b/c we're not blogging on here.. Blame that on healthy relationships, too many "love interests" getting the address (b/c who wants to blog about someone when you know they're reading it). Whatever. At any rate, I want to blog so I shall.

So, Mr. Ex and I are back together...and better than ever. I dont even know if blogged about us getting back together. Hmph.. Well.. we did. He fucked up and admitted it. I admitted my stuff, too. (I mean I wish I was innocent but two way streets..yada yada). Okay, well... lately, the issue isnt one of unhappiness, but more just timing. and waiting.

For all those interested, Mr. Ex and I have a long distance relationship. It works out. I mean.. we're in a comfortable place, we trust each other, and we accumulate airline miles. That said, to have a long distance relationship that works, doesnt there have to be a light at the end of the tunnel so to speak? I mean.. why would one get INTO a long distance relationship unless the goal was to not always be long distance, right?

Well, that's what I think at least.

Mr. Ex is finishing his education- grad school- this year in the long distance location. I almost moved there when he did, but ended up getting a great job here that was impossible to leave. He was bummed when I found out I wouldnt be moving there with him. Afterall, his program is only a year. I was flattered that he was bummed.

However, somewhere, sometime, I feel like something changed. Why? Well, b/c of this conversation.. (keep in mind I picked and chose the parts I wanted to include)

Me: I wish I didnt have to sign my lease for another YEAR from now. Ugh.
Him: Why? I'll be there at least another year, right?
Me: *perplexed* Um.. well.....*stammering* Yeah, I dont know..
Him: What?
Me: Well, I dunno.. When you're done, do you not want to try to live in the same least by this time next year maybe?

*conversation....ending with..
Him: I dont know if I'm ready for that.

READY FOR WHAT?! Um.. dumbass, you have a great, cute, smart, fabulous girlfriend who you fought relentlessly for to get back....only to be freaked out about living in the same city?!

Moral is.. Now, I'm confused.. but in love, too. Confused and in love sucks. balls. as a combo.

We're very much in love....and it's not b/c I'm in denial.. haha... Seriously... But, just b/c he's freaked a little about futuristic things, I know I should give him some time. B/c I love him. However, how long is too long?

Long distance love is actually working....but the question is...what way will the airline miles cease? Moving to the same place or something I'd rather not think about....

Brainy Blonde, overanalytical as usual. You know you missed me.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

stupid boys and strong women.

have you all heard keith urban's stupid boy? it's a country song, but I really like it despite the fact that I'm pretty picky when it comes to country music. (lyrics here, go read ‘em) But anyhoo, it got me thinking. Thinking about women. Strong women.

Specifically the kind of Strong Women who aren’t strong enough to let go, get on and see what they’re really worth.

Me? I’d like to think I’m a strong woman. I’d be lying if I told you I’d never stayed in a relationship for too long, we’ve all done that. What’s important is that I’m okay by myself. I’m worth it. And that I realize it.

But this isn’t about me.

No, it’s about the girls who get trapped in relationships. Who are being drowned by them, and who could breathe freely if only they’d break from what’s entangling them and swim to the surface. That path up to the top can be scary and lonely and filled with doubt and not knowing, but once you breathe that fresh air…the realization of what you’ve given up and the chances you’ve offered yourself is amazing.

There is a whole world out they’re, and they’re missing it.

I’ve been thinking about this even before I heard the song. My roommate is in the midst of a divorce, and it seems like every week she is better and better. Better because she took that weight off her shoulders.

And another friend of mine is getting married in a few months to a man that I think she shoulda left a long time ago. He doesn’t treat her right, but I can’t say anything because my ex boyfriend is the best man. I talked to her about it once, and she actually said to me “Foxy, I’m scared to stay, but I know I’m not strong enough to leave him.”

Actually. Said. This.

And this list? It goes on. and on. and on.

I don’t know what to do. I’m no expert, but it’s so easy to be oblivious when you’re in the thick of it, and not see things for what they are. I once described myself in one of my past relationships as looking with blind eyes.

And I think a lot of people do that.

So what do you do?
What do you do?

How do you tell a girl to love herself? How do you explain that the man she likes/loves/lusts is not worthy of her? That he drinks too much? That he works too much? That he doesn’t respect her? That he doesn’t support her? That he is holding her back? That he doesn’t deserve her?

And how, praytell, do you make it clear to guys that they can’t treat women like this?


Tuesday, July 10, 2007

meeting the parents

tomorrow I meet the parents. like the parents of my boyfriend of three weeks and two days. or, well, three months, three weeks and two days, depending on whether or not you want to split hairs.

and then on sunday? I meet the entire rest of his family.

people keep asking me if I'm nervous. the answer is yes and no.

I'm not nervous because...
~he's the one who would be the strong-handshake spanish-inquisition guy, and I'm with him.
~i'm an engineer and so are all of his siblings and his dad, so i've got an in.
~i'm funny and nice and polite and it's not like i'm not *good enough* for him, y'know?

but I'm a little nervous too.
mostly about, well...what to wear.

I'm already certain I'm wearing a skirt to dinner tomorrow night. It's the thing to do. Even if we eat at Mickey D's.

and I know what things to bring when I fly to Philly for the family vacay.

but still? nervous about the clothes.

i am SUCH a girl.

also, opinion needed.
so, you know how you're supposed to bring gifts to the hostess when you stay at someone's house? well, I'm bringing them wine and beer from my home state (his mom drinks wine, his dad drinks beer.) that and a pet tornado, just for giggles.

thing is, I don't want to bring 'em on the plane if I can avoid it. think I could just give it to 'em at dinner tomorrow?

wish me luck at dinner. hopefully my hair lady is right--I'm like a strawberry daiquiri and people should just drink me up. we'll see...


Monday, June 18, 2007

"seriously, do we have to teach a class or something?"


so, it's been awhile since the last post. work has been sucking away my will to live. and eat. and type out blog posts. it's enough to keep up with one...and now I find myself posting on what, five? oopsie.

anyhoodle, so, last saturday I got my hair cut. and I mean like whacked, chopped off, etc. like, oh 9-10 inches-ish? I'm donating it, sorta, but that's a long story. here's the important part: anyone with a penis seems to have a high propensity for being an idiot when a girl cuts off her hair.

some of 'em? spot on. saying exactly what they should.
"sweet haircut."
"I see you got your hair cut."
"hey, I just noticed--you cut your hair! when did you do that?"
"you got your hair cut--do you like it?"

all of these are good. some of 'em even allow you to not actually weigh in on your like/dislike of the cut.

others? not so much. I so desperately want to scream at people who say things like
"wow. that's drastic!"
"why'd you do that?"


the strangest part of all though was that someone, one of my boyfriend's friends (yes, I said boyfriend!), wanted mad props for noticing. I mean, sure, I don't see him all the time. And some of his friends didn't even realize it. But I'm like, "what, you want a cookie?!?"

apparently, he does. do they make it in shut-the-hell-up flavor? maybe I should invent a recipe for that. ;)


Friday, June 8, 2007

where does the past fit in the present?

if you've been reading this blog you prolly might could know that my last long-term relationship, with a guy I don't talk about much, who I'll now call FreakishlyTall ended last october. for the record, I do not miss it. it was bad news bears, and i very much feel as though it's a case of good riddance to bad rubbish.
but, y'see...well, we were together for a year and nine months. that's a LONG time. with lots of memories and moments. and he was there for all of them.

so since the breakup (and even when we first started dating) I've been trying to be careful about which guys I introduce my friends to. especially my smugmarried friends.

recently-ish I've been introducing science/soccer to my friends. we already had some mutual ones, which is how we met, but after we hit the month mark I let the smugmarrieds meet him.

they, like every other one of my friends, like him. and as is the norm (thank goodness!) everyone seems to think he's definitely an improvement over the last guy.

but what's hard is this...
sometimes I miss FreakishlyTall. I don't want to be with him. I don't miss his kisses or the way he would sit on my offwhite chair when he came back from the gym all sweaty, or the way he let his mother strangle him with those apron strings. But sometimes? sometimes I just miss him. Like when it's friday afternoon and I want a beer and I think about how we had forties pretty much every friday we were together. Or the kick-ass parties we threw. Or when we went to Nascar. Things that happened. That even if HE was bad at 'em (and good lord knows he was) the memories overall? not too shabby...

I like to say he's a good guy but a bad boyfriend. And we were friends first, and that's significant.He's funny and a good drinking buddy and I know that if I'm ever ever in trouble I can call him and he'll come help. but I can't and won't be friends with him again, because my head knows it's wrong, and that's hard.

but the hardest part of all?
my friends miss him too. and though they all picked me, because I was friends with them first, some of them really really miss him. and I can't bring him back. and if I could I wouldn't want to. one of the couples and I talked about it the other day--I explained that I miss him, but I don't miss the part of him that treated me like that. "No one misses that part of FreakishlyTall, Foxy. Nobody."

I hate it that it seems to kind of taint Science/Soccer. I don't compare him to FreakishlyTall, but my friends can't help it--they were so overwhelmed with how good he was compared to LameExHusband that FreakishlyTall has set the bar.

what's a girl to do?

enjoy her friday of mexican food, beer and bowling, that's what! ScienceSoccer and I are going to kick MA&M's butt. :)


Monday, June 4, 2007, two, three.

so, I guess I've reached a new point in my relationship with science/soccer. the point where we own up to our weird quirks, and sometimes even volunteer them. the point where we're really honest. and the point where we stop trying to analyze the other person quite so much, or at least on such a base level.
and yesterday, we talked about the tests that you put people through.
it all started 'cause we went to the same restaurant we went to on our first date. so of course we rehashed it. (and talked about how foxy-the-idiotic who picked the place chose to go to a dining establishment where she knew she'd order a pizza no longer on the menu making her look a more than a skosh high maintenance even though it's the best pizza ever and totally worth it and people do it all the time, but this is a run-on parenthetical statement and i should just end it now) and we talked about first dates. and getting to know people. and impressions. and most importantly, tests.

I, for instance, walk so that I can see if the guy is going to make the effort of opening the door for me. And see which doors. Sometimes I even walk a step faster to see if he tries to beat me to it.

A little farther on in a relationship I'll sometimes offer to pay a little earlier that I'd prefer, just to see if he takes me up on it--and how he accepts/deflects. It's just to learn more about him, it's not a deal-breaker. and I wouldn't offer to pay if I didn't have the cash.

I also usually tell a guy about my one of my friend's relationship issues de jour--not disclosing my opinion or anything too personal--to see how he thinks.

just little tests. nothing huge.

but I actually didn't start the test convo--he did. he told me about how sometimes on a first date he'll take the girl somewhere and suggest that they eat ribs for dinner because they're soooo messy, and there's no way to be all prim and proper and tidy when you're eating ribs. it's to see how she deals, and see if she's easy going.

he also informed me that opening the door, a la a bronx tale, (you pull up right where she lives, right? Before you get outta the car, you lock both doors. Then, get outta the car, you walk over to her. You bring her over to the car. Dig out the key, put it in the lock and open the door for her. Then you let her get in. Then you close the door. Then you walk around the back of the car and look through the rear window. If she doesn't reach over and lift up that button so that you can get in: dump her...that means she's a selfish broad and all you're seeing is the tip of the iceberg. You dump her and you dump her fast) isn't a test with him. I explained to him that I've done that since I started dating, and that once I saw that movie I knew I prolly couldn't ever stop.

I know I always make a point of making a bad pun if the opportunity presents itself, to see if our senses of humor mesh. and I'm sure there are others that I can't think of right now.

but the eating ribs thing? totally new concept to me. and it makes me curious--what tests do you give? or do your friends give? or have you been put through?


Wednesday, May 30, 2007

the sex card

a quote from Mr. Science/Soccer "it amazes me how powerless girls suddenly become when they realize that they're not the one who gets to play the sex card."

he wasn't talking about us. he was talking about his past.

as a woman, my first blush response was to be bothered that he'd say something like that. I mean, until I realized he was right.

and I kinda think it's funny. as much as we women complain about stereotypes, we impose them on men CONSTANTLY. and it's not that they aren't true, no no, but it's a skosh hypocritical, dontcha think?

and furthermore, that's not even the point. point is there's more to a lady than the space between her legs. I mean, am I right? because upon finding out, in the odd circumstance, that you're ready to get busy and he isn't, for the love of pete don't think you're suddenly all worthless or whatever.

the sex card isn't power. sex should never be about power. withholding it isn't a fair way to fight, and it's wrong to use it to prove a point. it's far more special than a bargaining tool. and you boys out there should remember this too.

also, a suggestion. don't google-image-search for "sex card" at work. this might seem like a no-brainer, but just incase...


Monday, May 28, 2007

“Keep Breaking Your Heart Till it Opens Up.”

My friend told me that in consolation for yet another failed attempt at love. And by love, I mean wanting the cute boy to pay attention to me.

First though, I apologize for my absence. After traveling down to San Diego for a month of filming, I have returned to Los Angeles, I am in between films and have time to sit down and gab about the adventures in singledom I have experienced.

My English teachers always told me a good way to make a point is to give three examples. Here are my three.

Last I left you, I had gone out with Mr. Fourth date. Well, Mr. 4th date turned into a jerk and stopped returning phone calls because I wouldn’t sleep with him. If that was his only intention, then I am glad not to talk to him. I’m frustrated with myself because usually I can read character pretty well, and I completely misread this guy. Thinking his intentions were much more pure, I emotionally let him in too quickly. But he was kinda short, so I’m better off anyway.

Then, traveling to San Diego, I was excited at the prospect of an on set crush. You always get them, and it usually is on a “best available” basis. In the real world, the guy may be a 6, but on the set, and in comparison to the other guys, he’s a 9. So I met mine. I labeled “The Steed” (seeing as I would like to ride that) showed up to work. Tall, dark and handsome, I made sure I wore mascara to work. There was a spark. People were whispering about us. But it turned out to be just a simple case on an on set crush, and after we wrapped nothing came of our flirtations. My hopes were up, but I’m not crying over this one.

And finally, returning to LA, I met and connected to a young, hot, artist, whom I met through mutual friends. Hanging out, going on adventures in Chinatown, whispering at parties, elbow touches, drink buying - all of the usual dance moves in the flirtation cha-cha. Oh yeah, and he was incredible hot.

And I wish I had an amazing ending to this story, but two nights ago, I was once again disappointed in the dumbness and lameness of boys. After yet another great night out on the town, Mr. Hot Artist turned into Mr. Obnoxious Drunk and ended up ditching me and leaving with some American Apparel model wannabe. Honestly, I think I’m more disappointed in his total lack of taste in girls, than in the fact he doesn’t like me that way. She was tre’ annoying.

Sucks, I know.

In conclusion, those are three examples of how my heart has been broken in these past weeks. But I am confident that all this disappointment and heartache will only make it more awesome when I finally find someone who does indeed love me. And until that day comes…

- the single one

Thursday, May 24, 2007

half-in-the-bag confessions of a boy.

so, like most people, even guys get a little (or sometimes a lot) loose-lipped while drinking.

I personally like to think that as long as the person isn't hammered (and instead is just feelin' good), then you can probably take a lot of what they're saying as the truth. their filter is turned off/on a lower setting, and they're just saying what they think instead of wondering "how will she take this" or "what will it seem like I mean if I say this?"

it's different than drunken confessions of love, it's more like taking the saying " in vino veritas" pretty literally.

and gotta say? i kinda love it.

it's when boys tend to tell you exactly why they dig you.
and what's on their mind.
and how they feel.
and when they think of you.
and what you mean to them.

oh, it's not like they're all blatant and direct about it, mercy me no. but they say things, things that reveal so much about what's going on in their head. and trust me, I'm not overanalyzing. it's hard to overanalyze something that so simple to understand.

and i like it.

i'd give you specific examples, 'cept I kind of want to keep 'em to myself...

so go get your beverage of choice, have enough to make you a skosh inebriated and call the one you like/love/lust. chances are you'll say just enough to make that person on the other end of the line all sappy-smiley without compromising yourself.

and if you have too much and go too far? you can blame it on the alcohol. :)


Tuesday, May 22, 2007

unsportsman-like conduct

sometimes, when I'm out at a bar, I feel like I need one of these:

'cause I want to SCREAM at the people!

"penalty kick!"
"personal foul!"

maybe for halloween, yeah, that's the ticket. I'll dress up as a cute little referee and give people red and yellow flags, eject them from games, the whole nine yards.

~the guy who boxes in the gal (nobody puts baby in a corner!) and keeps her from having an escape route, which only serves to intensify his creep factor.
~the girl whose shirt is too low, whose pants are too low, whose shirt is too short, or all three! and chick-a-dees, very few of y'all can rock the bra-less look. wear a bra, okay? it's a wee bit uncomfy, perhaps, but really? your small amount of discomfort is waaaaaaaay less than the discomfort of those around you. and let's not mention the teasing.
~acting like you're better than everyone else. seriously, people DO this. like, in BARS. trust me, if you're at a bar with me, we're prolly both there for at least some of the same reasons, including the alcohol. go with it. don't think you're cooler 'cause your purse says prada or your eyelashes are fake. seriously.

so, what's the penalty, mmmm?

can we put them in time out?
give them three strikes?
or maybe even eject them from the game?

and why, oh why, do people not get it? it's not like it's hard to follow the rules. buy the lady a drink. open the door. girls, don't accept the drink unless you actually want to talk to the guy for a minute or two. and for heavens sake, wear clothes that flatter, not ones that leave little to the imagination. yeesh!

(still thinking about that referee idea....)

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

weighty matters...

now, don't y'all go and accuse me of being a hypocrite here. I'm not, I promise.

but for reals? I would like each of you to get out a mirror. Or stand in front of one. Or whatever. Look at it. Look at yourself.

Now repeat after me: "I am too hard on myself."

because that's what I'm finding EVERYWHERE. seriously. this applies to lots and lots of people.

Off the top of my head I can think of...(carry the one) least four close friends of mine who are really really unhappy with their bodies. They work out like mad or lament the number listed on that little tag at the back of their pants.

and if you really ARE overweight or really COULD lose a few? not so unreasonable. but most of them need to a) come over to my place, b) eat a cheeseburger and a cookout shake (chocolate cherry is my favorite) and c) relax.

being healthy? that's important.
wanting to look good? totally normal.
striving for success? bully for you!
stressing all the time about your appearance? not so much.

seriously, people. I'm no expert, but I know this: lots of people who think they need to lose weight or who obsess over every teensy fold of skin need to calm the eff down. let it go, just a little. if you like who you are, then you should like how you look. (but, on the other hand, if you're really THAT bad off, then quit complaining and do something about if for crying out loud).

I'm annoyed by this right now because one of my good friends in particular, who is soooooo not fat, thinks she is. She works out like a mad woman. And she thinks that if she gets skinny then boys with flock to her. Thing is?

if she's working out five days a week for hours each day, when's she got time for boys? and, if she deflects every single compliment by saying it's wrong (as opposed to only deflecting some or to saying you're too kind or something) what boy is going to want to put up with that?


of course, this is all coming from me. and if, for instance, someone shaped like me (fauxfoxy) came up to me (realfoxy) and said "I think I'm overweight" I might laugh until I cried. So I don't get to throw stones here 'cause I kind of can't relate to all the concerns that people have. (well, except when my body weight increased by 22% after college, but even then I went from scaryskinny to normal, so there's no room for me to complain about my bigger pants, even though I went through a phase where I was annoyed by them...but moving on.)

but what I do know is that it's the people who love themselves that others tend to love too.

so go get that mirror out again. and smile at it. and blow yourself a kiss. and think about why you're wonderful, and what makes you you. and if you're out there looking for love/like/lust, realize that you aren't going to get any of those if you don't become comfy with who and what you are, or change it until you ARE comfy.

and while you're working on that, maybe sneak in an oreo, too. :)


Tuesday, May 15, 2007

officially unofficial and mixed mix messages.

what a fun weekend! good dates, good times, good developments. I liked it, for the most part.

Remember how I got all upset 'cause people thought it was weird that we weren't having sex? Well, apparently it's normal for him. And it's sure as heck normal for me. Waiting for a while is normal. Sometimes drunk friends spill the beans, and it's even better when you don't even bring up said beans, someone just volunteers the info.

interesting, indeed.

Next up, we're officially unofficial. Which also might seem a little nutso to you, but is soooo okay with me. It went a little like this:

Mr. Science/Soccer Hottie's friend (this feller needs a better nickname. little help, brainy? or anyone?) was drunk and blabbing, and called me his girlfriend. Twice. I was informed by one of the guys there (who is the fiance of my best friend) that these are the rules:
a. if "girlfriend" is used once by a guy's friend, let it go. unless it's used once by multiple friends.
b. if "girlfriend" is used more than once by a guy's friend, you can ask about it later. it's best if you do so jokingly.
c. if the guy ever uses the term "girlfriend" towards you in front of you, and you haven't made it official yet, you're allowed to stop the convo right then and there, and tease.

So, I got to go with B. There was side poking when I asked, and then a nice deflection "yeah, that wasn't lost on me." Later I came right out and told him--"I don't need to be your girlfriend right now, but I do need to know that you aren't seeing anyone else. Because I'm not. And I'm really starting to dig you." He isn't. It's not his style. :)

I had to tell quite a few more people we weren't "official"--because they asked me. Our mutual friend, the girl on the bench at the soccer game, one of his teammates, his friends at the party. Seriously, it was crazy. Those people talk A LOT. But it means I learn a lot, 'cause I just let the durnk guys babble!


so, Mr. Science/Soccer gives me little gifts. Like the pun popsicle sticks. Or these cute little tissue paper flowers that he made one day at school (and yes, he really made 'em. he's in middle school. quit teasing, I think it's adorable.). see?

so I decided that maybe, just maybe, he likes receiving little gifts since he seems to like surprises/gifts so much. I'd already told him I was making him a cd (seriously, go check out the avett bros--they have a new one out today, too!) so I decided to make him a mix cd as well.

now, let me take a break here and tell you that I love love love mix cds. they're kind of my personal hero. a great way to introduce people to bands and all. love 'em. but I'm not a fan of ones with "messages" hidden in 'em.

not that I haven't made that kind, but it's been for big occasions, like an anniversary, and I've worked the song titles into a poem or something cute like that. but no, usually, it's just sharing good tunes with good people.


a lot of girls don't think that way. which makes me shudder a little.

really, I'm hoping that he gets it. I didn't clarify except to say "these are some songs I really like." It seems that the lack of messages would be self-evident--there are some called "i think i love you," or that sing about making love to a beautiful girl, and feeling like the world's not so bad anymore, but then others are about killing your lover, or what happens the days before you die, or one called "catch my disease."

so, I can assume that at best he'll think the messages are mixed? (mmmm I heart puns)

seriously though, I don't have to clarify, right? it's too late to do so now, anyway, I'll look like I've been obsessing. but really, do 27-year-old guys automatically think that everything has a message?

[crosses her fingers for a no.]

Friday, May 11, 2007


first things first, let's get the definition out of the way. says...

"Affected with intense romantic attraction. "

and good ol' urban dictionary has pretty much the same thing to say.

also, right now I am totally guilty of being "smitten." but I'm digressing, and that's another story for another day.

so, if you would, picture this in your head...

it's a chilly day, maybe slighty windy. the type of day where any venturing outside should be followed immediately by some hot chocolate. it isn't freezing, but it's cold.

you're going on date, oh, let's say five or six with someone new, and you and your honey decide to go for a little early evening pre-dinner stroll. you're walking hand in hand, 'cause your big coats are getting in the way of any arm-around-each-other action.

you think about how this is fun, how you're really starting to like this person. she's pretty awesome, he thinks.


she whips out a pair of these:

now, really? this idea is half brilliant, half insane. I think it needs to come with a disclaimer: for very serious couples only. Guys, can you imagine how you'd feel if the girl brought out a set of smittens all of the sudden? Worse still would be if the guy had them, I've gotta admit.

It's like if you found out the girl already had towels monogrammed with they guy's last initial, or had a tattoo with the guy's name already drawn out. Or maybe it's more like finding that piece of paper where she's practiced signing his last name...but in any case?


clever, but yikes.

soooo, go get a pair for your engaged or married friends. they'll think it's cute. but don't get a pair for yourself if you're a smart and single...or you'd better limit your dating to the warm months.


the nice guy.

so, I bet a lot of us reading this have got one of these people (guys, it's a nice girl for you...just replace the gender-specific words accordingly, okay?)...

it's the guy who's your friend. maybe you hang out together. maybe you flirt a little. maybe you talk about your relationship issues.

but when you boil it down, more often than not, one of you is interested and one of you isn't.

and it sucks.

me? I have a nice guy friend. He's funny and so so kind, and he's a gentleman, too. But he's not cute, and he's not someone I'd want to date. I'm not interested in him. However, it's quite clear to me that he is interested in me.

now, to clarify, I'm not all "woe is me." quite the opposite. I think "poor guy."

and I feel kind of guilty. We play on a softball team together. We go to the batting cages. He helps me fix my audio/visual equipment. And he buys me sushi for dinner. And brings me my favorite icecream.

he actually refuses to let me pay, too. i've paid for my own meal in his presence twice--once because there were three of us (Mr. TDaH joined us) and once because I went and got to-go sushi while he fixed my TV.

thing is, I *know* he likes me, or at least thinks I'm terribly cute and impressive and amazing, because he SHOWERS me with compliments. I mean, he TELLS me these things. Like all the time. And I tell him he's a nice guy. And that some day some girl will be lucky to catch him, and I mean it--but that girl? She ain't nevah gonna be me.

am I doing anything wrong? he knows I'm dating someone, he knows I really like the guy, and he knows that he and I aren't dating.

and a few hours ago he sent me an email asking if we could hang this weekend. yeesh.


Tuesday, May 8, 2007

yo, pep, I don't think they're gonna play this on the radio and why not? everybody has sex I mean, everybody should be makin' love...

~salt 'n' pepa

okay, I've had it. HAD IT. I'm tired of hearing it. This isn't WEIRD. It's OKAY. You people should go live in the buckle o' the bible belt for twenty-some-odd years. you'll understand. but seriously. I'm annoyed. And I'm not feeling shy today.


I've been without a steady guy for, oh, about seven months now. It's been about a month longer than that since I've "gotten any." And I mean actual sex here. I differentiate. Some people don't, but I do. (and suddenly I'm thinking "it ain't immoral if it's oral.") But anyway.

so, here's the annoyance:

I don't talk about my sex life very much. I talk about dating, but intimate things are intimate, people, and I generally prefer not to share 'em, even in a semi-anonymous venue such as this. however.

why is it that people think it's so dadgum weird that I've not:
1) had sex with anyone who wasn't my significant other at the time
2) had sex with someone random and
3) had sex with the guy that I've been seeing for two months


I mean seriously.

NOW, if we hadn't kissed (or groped or made out like horny teenagers or the like), I'd let you throw all the stones you wanted. That would totally be a little weird, and I would see why you'd think so. Some people might find that okay, but not me, and probably not your average mid-twenty folk.

But why, I ask, WHY are we so focused on sex?

I mean, it's not like I haven't had plenty of chances, here. Rat-Boy wanted to, Mr. Hot-Stuff-Gonna-Do-Me-a-Favor-by-Wearing-a-Condom wanted to, Mr. Drink-Stealer-Who-Redeemed-Himself wanted to, and I even had someone completely mean it when they responded "you." when asked "what do you want to do to celebrate your birthday tomorrow?"

I was told that I could probably go up to any two guys and say "wanna f*ck?" and one of them would say yes in a heartbeat. I've had people try to convince me. They've tried to cajole and wheedle the pant(ie)s off me.

and for choosing not to I was questioned and insulted. seriously, what's so wrong with not having sex? or at least waiting a while to have it?

It's a part of a relationship, yes. and bad sex is no bueno, I agree (believe me, I know, I've had it). And I think for the most part it's silly not to milk the cow before you buy it, but I respect people's decisions because it's THEIR body. Also, it is totally okay to not have a revolving door on your bed, and it is completely fine to get to know a person in the mental and emotional sense before you get to know them in the biblical sense.

I don't think there's an amount of time that needs to pass, but if you don't want to you don't want to...and no one can make you want to.

besides, sex has drawbacks...the risk of disease, the possibility of creating a false sense of intimacy and connection, and the fear of pregnancy, to name a few. there is nothing wrong with waiting a while. not a damn thing in the world. sex has lots of positives too, but seriously, there's not a damn thing wrong with waiting to have it.

and if you think otherwise?

you're not the type of person I'd want to date, anyway.



"Conflicted" is defined online as: Made uneasy by conflicting impulses.
Usage Note: The adjective conflicted is most often associated with the jargon of pop psychology.

"Jargon" of pop psychology, huh? Well.. yeah.. I think jargon works b/c that's what it seems my wee little blonde head is filled with lately....Fair warning: This blog talks itself in circles....

To stay or to go? To try or to not? To take the leap or to remain in place? To risk or to not? Yeah, this blog IS about dating.. but also about the life of a 20something smart, single girl. I think we all go through changes..and they seem to rush in all at once.. then cease for often months at a time.. then wham.. changes again.. I don't mind change.. it's not that.. and I'm truly not "bothered" as I type away on my laptop in front of my french doors. I'm more just reflective and pondering.. :)

I feel as though this whole mid-twenties thing has brought so much clarity to what I want from life, from a boyfriend, from my friends, from myself, from a future spouse... But, in the same respect, do you ever feel as though you're reaching....reaching toward a horizon of what you KNOW is there....but you just cant quite see it or touch it with your fingertips? Yeah.. I think that's MY mid-twenties. Officially. I'm so very comfortable in my own skin and have learned what it means to love deeply, live fully, smile from within and challenge every facet of my being.. I love that..

But.. there's so much I feel as though I'm on the cusp of..if that makes sense.. Maybe it's b/c I'm looking for a new job, maybe it's b/c I've been questioning some things..I dunno.. A great deal of my married friends say they're jealous.. b/c I "could do anything" since I dont really have anyone depending on me so to speak. I mean.. I dont have to get anyone's consent if I want to move to freaking Antarctica.. or just go have a beer on a Wednesday night. But, all in all, while I'm so very happy with that.. I have NO idea what to do with it. I COULD do anything at a moment's notice.. I COULD move to wherever.. I COULD do any of those things. Then, why the hell is it so hard to just make a damn decision and do it at this age?! Sheez! Plus, while I love the freedom to do whatever, whenever... I think we all have those moments when it would be really super great to have someone to ask whether it's okay to move to "Antarctica" or not... or...just maybe whether they'll come with ya so at least it's not so scary, right?

*sigh* As soon as my brain files away the thoughts in my head in a more organized fashion, I shall blog again! :) Until then, my smart and singles, please sip your wine over Heroes (or whatever other show you watch tonight) in your favorite girly sleepwear.. or even in the buff.. and relish in our utter confusing, conflicted, perplexing, yet awesomely beautiful.. singledom.


Monday, May 7, 2007

a lesson: how to make a girl spend ten minutes searching for you...because she really wants to...

step one: go to a bar.

step two: have to go to the bathroom. or the other half of the bar. somewhere. the location doesn't matter so long as you are turning a corner or going in a door or something. you need to be able to (temporarily) disappear.

step three: begin your walk to wherever it is that you're going. on your way, notice the girl standing at the corner of the bar, two drinks in her hand, presumably waiting for someone.

step four: hope it's another girl.

step five: as you pass her, even though she's not checking you out, grab her upper arm gently with both of your hands.

step six: look her in the eyes and slooowly say the following four words, placing emphasis one the third one, and say it like you mean it with utmost sincerity: "you are soooo cute."

step seven: walk away. be confident that the girl is blushing and/or smiling.

in my case? both.

as soon as my friend got back from the restroom (couldn't very well leave our drinks there and I didn't want to follow like a puppy) we spent the next ten minutes looking for--get this--a white guy with dark-ish possibly curly and sorta short hair, who might've been a little tan, might've had a goatee and was definitely wearing a dark shirt that may or may not have had short sleeves.

we were At. A. Bar. there were A LOT of guys that fit that description. a LOT. surprised? didn't think so.

but nonetheless, we looked. just so I could point him out.

the best parts?
1. there was no "what's your name?" after the compliment. it was just freely given.
2. the guy in the sombrero who I took a picture with.

if I'd found him and wanted to talk to him, woulda bought him a drink. pity for him I'm only seeing one person right now (okay, well not officially, but in my head I'm sure that's what we're both doing--otherwise the other girl is getting ZERO attention 'cause we've already got plans for Tuesday, Friday and Saturday, but I digress), but if I hadn't been...mighta had to track him down for reals.

I mean, who walks up and just informs a girl that they're really cute, I ask? betcha if you do it right, that kind of a trick could work every time. It sure as heck got my attention because he sounded so genuine--like he couldn't help but make sure I knew!

sidenote of badness: we might have found him. not sure. only got a profile, not a straight on view. but if it was him--under no circumstances should you rock three days of stubble at a bar on a saturday night. if you're trying to grow a beard, start on a sunday, k?


Wednesday, May 2, 2007

where's the fire?

foxy, foxy, foxy...

yes, I am talking to myself. on a blog. and using my pseudonym. and I'm okay with that.

so. this guy? the one I've been telling you about?

it's clear he digs me. like, crystal. he calls, he pays attention, he listens, he pays for things, he asks questions and tells me things that matter to him. he wants to know what's on my mind, too. he doesn't quite get sarcasm and he's not a good planner, but hey, nobody's perfect, right?

anyhoo, yesterday, he even did something extra cute. if you didn't know, I LOVE puns. and some kind of popsicle has little punny jokes on the sticks. I know about 'em 'cause my family saved some for me and gave them to me as a birthday present at Christmas. well, yesterday his soccer team had popsicles after the game, and he saved some for me and cleaned 'em off. they say things like "what kind of instrument do whales play? the eel-ectric guitar." g.r.o.a.n.

so, yeah, it is abundantly clear.
and yet, and yet...
I am the tiniest smidge of insecure. just a little hint. a bit. a tinge. a skosh. I'm not even certain about what exactly. All I know is that this state we're in doesn't seem to be cuttin' the mustard for good ol' foxy.

I'm not (necessarily) looking to be his girlfriend (yet). Well, okay, maybe I am a little. But I'd settle for something a little less title-ee. Like, y'know, him saying he's not dating anyone else (I've a sneaking suspicion he's not.), or how he thinks I'm so wonderful or whatever.

He's not exactly a man of few words, but he's also not an over-complimenter. And I don't know where we "are" so I don't know what to say to him. And it's started to make me a little wacky.


except, where's the fire?
where'd little miss cautious go, and why did she stop talking? and for that matter, when? I've tried to pretend to be cautious--y'know, like how if you pretend smile it turns into a real smile--and it doesn't work a lick.

le sigh. ooh, and idea? hows abouts I go stand near the imaginary fire from which I'm apparently running towards a relationship, and I pour a bucket of ice cold water on me. and it. put out the fire, take a cold shower. two birds, one stone. sounds like I'll be good to go.

um, or it's completely okay to feel like this, and I should just run with it. (ha!) one or the other.

also? eek.

wow, he must have dated some real lightbulbs before...

already established fact: I am a smart cookie. I'm not bragging here, I'm stating a fact. don't hate.

so, I've been dating this guy for, what, seven weeks now? (yes, I just counted) things have been going well. we've had a few awkward moments, but none of the level that would cause problems. and I'm having a lot of fun. :)

last night we went to meet my friends out for pizza and beer, and on our way we stopped at a gas station. it was called "huffs," and had a wolf by the word on its sign. I can't find a graphic, but I'll be near it this weekend so I might have to take a picture for y'all.

anyhoo, I remark, "huffs, what a weird name for a gas station. and with a wolf as the logo. hmm."
he replies, "well, I think it miiiight have something to do with a fairy tale."
me: "a fairy tale name for a GAS station? what?!? that's random."
and he says, "well, you do know which one, right?"
"no," I reply. no, let me rephrase that. "no," I reply sarcastically.

dude honestly believes that I don't know about the three little pigs. did I mention I grew up in a great plains state, in a lower-to-lower-middle-class family, that I attended public education and I speak english as my first language? oh, and that judging by my likes/dislikes, particularly in the movie arena, it wouldn't be a stretch to think I knew about fairy tales?

he gets out to pump his gas, I'm fumbling around in my purse looking for my burt's bees lip stuff. he pops his head back in the car and just stares at me with an expectant/curious expression. HE STILL THINKS I DON'T KNOW. I get out of the car. I stand with him as the gas is pumping. And I explain to him that yes, of course I know. I was being sarcastic.

now, let me take a moment to tell you two things.
1. he, too, is a smart cookie.
2. he has a smile that makes me ever-so-slightly weak in the knees.

and oh, one more thing.
this is NOT, I repeat, NOT the first time I've had to tell him that I'm sarcastic. I am sarcastic all the damn time. Like, practically in a constant state of sarcasm (which, by the way, could be a great band name). and I do know know how to


that I am a sarcastic girl. who knew this part would be so complicated, mmmm?

suggestions? rebuttals? jokes?
I'll take 'em all.