"single" he told me? single, my ass.

apparently, I’m in a musical mood. deal.

So last night I went out for a friend’s birthday and we played pool. She and I were on a team versus her brother and her friend. She got in a tough shot, and her friend said “good job” and used her nickname, Nay-Nay.

About half an hour later, this fellow in a red shirt over at the next table, who has been kind of watching our games in-between his shots sees her miss a shot and kind of pout about it. He flirtily said, “don’t be so hard on yourself, Nay-Nay” and flashed her a big smile. But that’s not what I noticed. I noticed the flash of light off his wedding ring. I can spot those puppies a mile away.

No one else, it seemed, caught a glimpse of it, but it was there. And after the talk about how he was flirting, and after he continued to flirt with her from across the table, when the moment came I had to inform them of the disappointment in the form of a metal band.

So here we stood, three single women in a town FULL OF (albeit unfortunately not *good*) men, annoyed by the actions of another one of the clearly-not-good men. I mean, now, I’ve got to step back here and admit that I am a flirt. I am. I own it. I’ve been using my flirtatiousness since I was sixteen and talked the guy at the movie theatre into giving my two friends and me a free refill on our popcorn. I am not ashamed. Not even a little. Flirting is healthy, actually. It’s good for you. And sometimes it happens even when you don’t mean it to, y’know?

But when I’m in a relationship I’m rarely the one to initiate the flirting with someone other than my other, and if I do flirt it is brief and it is certainly much less leeringly than this fellow was being. If it’s me, you could call it “innocent.” But with him, it was different—the term eye-f*ck came up in our discussion after I informed them about his left digit and we began to bash his behavior. I mean, this guy was waaaay past the line of “okay flirting.”

And I find this highly annoying. And frustrating. And maybe it explains a bit about divorces, and why in 70-80% of the cases, it’s the ladies who do the leaving. Now, nobody here is saying that we women are better or more faithful or anything like that at all, no, no, don’t mistake. I think a lot of problems are two-way streets and you certainly can't place the blame all on one gender, no-sir-ee-bob. But I will say you hear a lot more country songs, scandalous news stories and gossip and tales of throwing-your-drink-on-someone where the guy is in the wrong. Maybe they’re just more likely to be caught? I dunno. But in any case, it made me think of the musical Chicago, and their Cell Block Tango.

he had it coming , he had it coming, he only had himself to blame, if you'd have been there, if you'd have seen it, i betcha you would have done the same!

~foxysavant

it will always make you cry.

this weekend I did a little observation-work. Purely out of curiosity (dude, I'm nothing if not curious), I paid a whole lot of attention to the love lives of my two best friends. One is getting married in June and the other is in a very serious relationship--and presently both relationships are long distance. I live a looooong way away (~1,888 miles as the car drives) and as such haven't really gotten to know either of their guys.

sure, I've met them, but I don't *know* them. I know enough to like them, and that's good. But even though I only saw the girl-end of the relationship (the guys were at their homes) I got to get a better feel for their respective situations this weekend. And I most certainly liked what I saw. I'm no expert, but I think I know good things when I see them. And I'm a leeeetle protective/overly-concerned for them in general because I love them (and they're the same of me)--one is my oldest and first real best friend, and the other is incredible and true and has taught me so much. We're our own little triumverate, and I like it. But I digress.

so, I was thinking about how the three of our lives are all topsy turvy. One is getting married. One is in a serious relationship. And I, Little Miss Always-in-a-Relationship, am single. And you know what? I'm so down with this. Because their guys are great, and I'm kinda digging being single, too. It's fun for now, and adds perspective and all that jazz.

wondering about the title yet? hold onto your hats, cats and kittens, I'm getting to it...

I found myself singing the lyrics from a song I haven't heard in years. I was sitting in the lab, measuring the flux, thinking about my two best friends and their awesome guys who treat them wonderfully, and I realized I was singing to myself.

Do you know what movie makes pretty much any girl ever shed at least one tear? Or at the minimum get all watery eyed? That movie is Beaches. And the song I was singing was this one:

You've got to give a little, take a little,
And let your poor heart break a little.
That's the story of,
That's the glory of love.

You've got to laugh a little, cry a little,
Until the clouds roll by a little.
That's the story of,
That's the glory of love.

As long as there's the two of us,
We've got the world and all it's charms.
And when the world is through with us,
We've got each other's arms.

You've got to win a little, lose a little,
Yes, and always have the blues a little.
That's the story of,
That's the glory of love.

That's the story of,
That's the glory of love.

and you know what? it is so right. that is the glory of love.

~foxysavant

Taking pictures of it..

Facebook. My turn. Remember how Mr. Ex made out with Ms. Random and photos were posted...a week after we broke up? Remember the drAGHma that ensued? Sheez. Photos of myself and Mr. Myspace made their way to facebook.. one with us drunkenly holding hands and smiling at each other in conversation. I asked my friend to remove it.. for lack of drama's sake.. and she did.. TOO LATE. So.. here I am.. in a weird situation with Mr. Ex. Should I feel bad? Definitely not. But, dooooo I? Yeah, definitely. I mean.. I dont feel badly for DOING it.. I had an awesome time. I feel badly that he had to SEE it b/c I know that totally hurts. It really is a fine line of walking the "to post photos or not to post photos." I think, from her email, that my friend kinda sorta used it as a way to say "see, you two shouldnt be friends.." Well, whether right or wrong on that notion, I am kinda hacked about the posting of the photo. Not mad, mind you.. just kinda eye-rolling-here-we-go-again-*sigh* hacked.

It really IS a perdicament..the line with Mr. Ex that is now drawn.. The "I think we're friends but maybe not" line.. the "Why are you getting jealous..wait.. maybe I was jealous.. " line.. I KNOW I dont want that anymore.. truly.. but that doesn't make stuff easy. Plus, I dont like hurting people's feelings.. even people that have deeply hurt mine. I act like such an "eye for an eye" person.. but deep down, Im a total softie b/c I know what its like to have your heart drop.. and I dont want to do that to ANYONE.

I guess it's just that I am SO tired of the drama and people being in my business with all that relationshipy stuff (yet I vent on a blog.. lol..whatever). Mr. Ex and I had mutual friends, hung at the same places and kinda have similar lives here in town. It was hard to escape when there was drama. It's nice to have Mr. Mysterious Myspace in another state b/c what people know/see is what I WANT them to know and see. For the first time in a LONG time, my feelings arent all out in the open for people to take pictures of. I'm not ready for anything else.. and I feel like any drama that begins to surround ANY relationship I'm in will cause me to totally bail. Im just not in a place to deal with any form of relationshipy drama crap. *sigh*
- BB

It took 8 hours...

..but Mr. Myspace came in town this weekend.. get this.. to SURPRISE ME! Um. Whoa? He drove. here. again. Yeah. Fact. Picture it.. I was out with my friends to dinner. Some OTHER friends started sending me texts saying "where are you?" and "why dont you come over to __'s house.." I thought this to be quite strange since we had all discussed meeting up later. Then, the kicker, girl friend text me saying "Mr. Myspace=here. Seriously!" I almost spit out my edamame. With that, I said "I'll go ahead and get another glass of wine..or um.. just the bottle." I was actually kinda excited/annoyed. I don't "do" surprises. I dont handle them well. I like them, mind you, but I just dont handle them well.

Besides, here I am thinking "hmph! What if I was on a DATE?! He's got a lot of nerve!!! " Well, I wasnt...and turns out he had very little intention of interrupting me that night but was just hanging with his other friend (our mutual friend) and wanted to call me later (aka he didnt want to interrupt my plans). (please note I had said I wanted to see him again on the phone a couple times.. so I have to take some blame even if it freaked me initially) It was my friends that were all about the telling me he was here."The telling me" got me all "the nervous" which wasnt fun! I mean.. we'd talked all week and I had thought..and verbalized "Sheez.. I wish I had seen you more.. I was kinda standoffish/scared/avoidant last weekend despite hanging out a little.." Welp, apparently he listens. lol!

Long and short of it, we had a great time. No drama. My friends love him. After I learned of his pretty genuine intentions to not disrupt my already-made plans, I was pretty damn flattered. The flattery continued when he uttered the words "I just dont feel like you have been treated the way you deserve. You deserve to be a priority." This. makes me smile, people. AM I ready to be a priority? Um. No. Do I hide that? Definitely not. I LIKE being single right now.. I truly do.. But, feeling like a priority this weekend was pretty cool. The best part is.. I really didnt cancel ANY plans with my friends. Im not all ga-ga over this guy and abandoning my judgment. I had Sunday night plans already and he actually said "hey, I remember you had plans, just call me after if you want." Um. wow. So, I did. I didnt feel pressured. Didnt feel controlled. Didnt feel like I really had to do a damn thing.. which made me want to call. Either this guy is GOOOOD or he knows how to work me. lol!

Seriously. I LOVE talking with him. The HOURS pass with just talking.. even face to face..and laughing.. and neither one of us has ANY idea. Yeah, we messed around...and it was.. um.. fabulous. I'd tell you, but you'd vomit a little in your mouth. Seriously. Maybe another blog. Really quick.. when did I wake up and become an adult? When did I wake up and make MATURE decisions.. like not rushing things, being TRUTHFUL about the place I'm in..or the place I'm not.. I mean.. yeah. When did I start liking MATURE guys.. with their shit together.. that know what they want-not just in relationships, but in general. Good Lord. Hell, when did meeting someone "on" the internet (even through a mutual friend..whatever) become semi-okay? I mean.. wha!?! Serial killer, he's not. Old maid, I'm not. Well, I guess he COULD still be a serial killer... I'll keep you updated. ;)

just friends. no, really.

I have a friend. I've known him for quite a few years. I met him in college, when he lived next door to one of my ex-boyfriends in their frat house.

He's a nice guy. We email. We myspace. We read each other's blogs. We sometimes talk on the phone, and we decipher girl/guy-speak for each other. It's nice. He laughed with me when I went on my worst first date ever (the guy made a recipe for me called "you won't be single for long vodka cream pasta" and didn't give me wine until we ate, an hour and a half into the date. but moving on) and I like him. He's nice.

but yesterday? well, I'd travelled to see my friend and family in another state, and he happens to live here too, so he came out to dinner with us. and good lord almighty, it was awful.

things that went wrong:
1. he knew waaaaay too much about me. like, alarming specifics. he could recount essentially word-for-word the details of a dream I posted about the other day. creep-to-the-eeee. he actually interrupted me while I was telling the story. the story of MY dream.
2. he brought me a hat he'd purchased me in palm springs. I don't wear ballcaps. It's a thing. and if he's got #1 down and knows too much about me, he should know this.
3. he stared at my boobs. all damn night long. keep your chin up, dude.
4. he kept demanding I give him my camera. y'see, I'm the photographer. plus, though I'd like to think I look cute all the time, I don't actually look completely adorable while I'm eating. I mean, I'm all about taking pictures, and I do let people use my camera, but it's my baby, and it recently got injured, and I'm just not really okay with people demanding that I do anything. ask, okay?
5. he's linguistically/culturally/socially insensitive. he just says things that people shouldn't say. and it's uncomfortable. and I don't like it.
6. he's hot-heated. at one point my ex-boyfriend, the one who roomed next to him, became a part of the conversation (due to another friend who was at dinner--long not-pertinent story), and Mr. Can't Take a Hint got super-upset. I mean, I'll admit, this ex-boyf was bad news, but that was like soooo six years ago? old news. get upset about the war in iraq or the energy crisis or something important instead, okay? okay. yeesh.

ugh.

worst part? He thinks we're *made* for each other. Like, in the shade--he believes he could make me happier than any man on the earth--and really, for that to happen, first I'd have to have the idea of kissing him not make me vomit in my mouth a little. I don't mean to be harsh, but, well, ew. And that's just one on a list of many no-no's. And I've told him as much--not that I'm a bit disgusted by the idea of kissing him--that I'm not interested, that I think of him as a friend, that he lives a three hour plane ride away, etc., etc..

and he still doesn't get it. I'm a little afraid I'm going to have to be a little, nay, A LOT more blunt, which is so not my style. I don't like to be mean, I don't like to hurt people's feelings. but I might have to, because now it's downright uncomfortable.

and what I really want to know is this--why do ladies have to have a whole book about "he's just not that into you," but guys have license to be wholly unaware of girls not digging them. maybe I should write a book called, "no, she really just wants to be your friend. REALLY."

either that or we're going to have to develop a breath mint that gets ride of that "vomit in my mouth sensation." one of the other. personally, I vote for the book, but hey, whatever works, right? I mean, what's a girl to do?

~foxysavant

He came, I saw, we myspaced....

Well, it's been too long since my last post and I must tell you about Mr. Myspace's visit. *ah*

*reflective sigh*

Well, it all started out with complete awkward giggling since I felt like I should know him through our internet fling, but had never really seen him in person. Yeah, I'm a cyber whore. Whatever. (not really..) He seemed almost immediately comfortable...I found that incredibly attractive..

He's photogenic. He's chivalrous. He's sincere. He pay attention. He's pretty damn fabulous. However, he....lives in another state. I think the distance actually contributes to his fabulousness. No strings, no drama, no knocking down my walls... oh.. and he's a damn good kisser.. Did I mention that part? Well.. I could make this read like a steamy cheap novel.. but I won't. Fact of the matter is.. we drank, we danced, we photo-ed, we kissed. End of story. Oh..and it was good.. We also hung out, talked, walked, laughed...all the while I attempted to maintain the distance thing I do quite well to avoid liking him. I attempted to look at him, pick him apart..and find things I dont like.. That didnt work very well. But, I tried damnit. The best part is... I barely know the guy, but I know where he stands on a lot of things...which I dont really feel like ranting about.. It was nice to be at the bar, look over, see him talking to whoever-girls- and not wonder where he might hit on someone else.. or wonder period. It was written all over his face. There was no wondering who he was there with.. I liked that.

We connect well.. Does that mean I need to run off into the sunset? Um. No. But, does that mean I had an awesome time? Uh YEAH. Oh how do I get myself in these situations??!! He wants to plan another visit.. maybe meet up somewhere for a weekend or something. This makes me want to run.. no.. SPRINT...in the other direction.. He's not supposed to REALLY like me. But, I'm not gonna lie.. I keep thinking "I'm in my 20s.. Im single.. I met a nice guy who knows exactly where Im at.. hmm.. a little weekend rendezvouz might not be the WORST idea.. " Gah.. its such a breath of fresh air to talk to someone a little older, a little more experienced, a little more grounded.. a little "more." I think (reverting back to my former post awhile back) I just needed to know a Mr. In-Between was out there.. and now I know. I love that. (insert HUGE smile) Where that takes me... Im not really sure I care... it just makes me smile, thats all..

Lates, my fellow singles..
-BB

a few of my favorite things.

Yes, that was a Sound of Music reference there, so sue me. But this is not a time to wax profound on the wonders of bright copper kettles (though they are good for tea), snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes (though I do l-o-v-e the snow) or warm woolen mittens (which are good, except I’m a fan of cotton).


We’re gonna talk about my favorite things. MY. In the long-walks-on-the-beach kind of way.

Y’see, for starters, I like guys. Dudes, men, fellows, whatever you want to call them.

And I like flowers. For my birthday or holidays or celebrations or just to brighten my day. And if you think those grocery store daisies are something I’d like, and you pick ‘em up, I’m not gonna scoff just ‘cause of where they’re from—I don’t hate. :)

I also like back rubs, swinging at a park, museums, ice-skating and movies where they serve wine and/or beer. I think it’s fun to play board games, and I like it when you tell me how pretty I am. Especially if you get specific. I like it when you make me smile, and I like it even more when you make me laugh. I want you to kiss my forehead or my cheek or my hand, and put your arm around me when we’re side-by-side. I like it when you pick me up and I like it when you make me weak in the knees.

I like it when you have friends, and when they like me, and when my friends like you. I like sunsets, bloody marys, home-cooked meals and blue bell icecream. I like going on trips and having inside jokes and I like surprises too, despite the fact that I sometimes pretend that I don’t. And I like it when you insist.

Let me assure you, I could go on. I’m versatile like that.

But do you know what I like the very most? What catches (and keeps) my attention? What makes me want to get to know you better, or what makes me like you even more? What I will always remember and what gives you cool points on the foxy-scale?

Ha, like I’m telling you that. Puh-leeze.

teasing, teasing. ;)

More than anything else, if you’re a random guy or a friend or someone I’ve been seeing for a while, I like it when you ask me a direct question.

No, really. I'm completely serious. Maybe you were expecting something more obscure, but that's really it--I totally dig direct questions.

For instance—instead of saying, “You know, you could give me your number, and we could hang out some time,” say, “I’d like to hang out some time, can I have your number?” Or you should say, "Can I take you to dinner sometime?" instead of, "so, maybe we should hang out some time?"

I think your mom taught you better than that, don’t you? You know to ask for someone to pass the salt instead of saying, “boy, I wish this food had more salt in it.” But you don’t know how to ask a girl out. It’s a simple matter, and this whole direct question thing just continues in relationships. C'mon, guys--pony up. Grow a pair (or use 'em since you've got 'em) and ask her a question. Don't avoid it.* I mean, if you’re proposing to a girl you don’t get down on one knee, hold out a box with a diamond ring and say, “so, if you want to get married you should probably put this on your finger.” Hell no, you don't. (Or, if you do, no one could blame her for saying no…)

Instead, you ask her.

And that, m’dears, is one of my favorite things—when I am asked. If you can put your arm around me, kiss me, tell me something, take me to dinner, whatever. Sometimes it's better to just make the move, but if there's any hesitation or doubt on your end then don't do, don't hint, ASK. And as long as I actually want you to do whatever it is you're asking, it's a sure-fire way to make me like it even more.

~foxysavant

*ps--why do all the cliche phrases for being indirect have sexual connotations in one way or another? pussyfoot, beat around the bush...yeah.

don't be a playa, be a playa hater.

maybe the sparks were onto something--'cause for some guys, the only thing they do is "dick around."

I mean, as any girl knows, guys are looking to get laid. It's how they roll, it's what motivates them and it's only kinda their own damn fault.

and it makes sense that some of them are players, and that they get girls who are young/stupid/horny to sleep with them. Most players are good looking and quite cocky, and that, as we've already established, usually serves to make them sexy as hell. For them, girls are usually conquests--I'm going to get that 'cause I can. And really, I don't know that I'd behave differently if I were them, 'cause they the get action and they get away with it. The hot girl swoons for them, goes home with them and they just never call. And a lot of the time it seems that the girl is perfectly okay with that.

the player gets sexual gratification without ties--even we single girls have to admit that a NCMO (non-commital make out) friend isn't without its benefits.

but the thing that doesn't make any sense is when the player goes for the real deal, the genuine article, the catch--the smart and single (and undoubtedly superhot, which is completely a requirement for authorship here, but we felt was inappropriate in the title--I'm kidding, but only sort of). and when he does, and when the girl is interested, the player

misses.
his.
chance.

because he's too caught up in his own game to see that the babe whose attention he's caught is more than just easy on the eyes--she's easy on the brain, for one, and more importantly, she's easy on the heart.

it almost, almost makes me feel a little sorry for the players. they've happened upon a diamond in the rough, and they're treating her like a grocery-store vending machine plastic ring--you keep it while it's fun and easy, but then you discard it just the same.

so I guess it's not even worth it to be a playa hater anyway, 'cause they're already getting their just desserts. maybe we should just wish bad haircuts on them--that would do them more damage, anyway. ;)

~foxysavant

does not compute.

I, like many women, have ex-boyfriends. It's how the game is played. And I'm usually pretty cool with it--hell, my best guy friend is an ex of mine. But sometimes I don't get it--and it’s the most recent one that I don’t understand. We dated for a year and eight months. And we had moved in together. The story of our demise is long and boring and annoying, but it boils down to this: I was called out on an iffy third strike, and the ump was making up stuff in the middle of the game. Also, I’m not sure if the ump was him or his mother, or his mother using him like a marionette. [my that’s an amusing mental picture…moving on]

He moved out last weekend—after four months of me searching for a roomie and trying desperately to find one who wasn’t too old (like my parent’s age) or too eccentric (the one who wanted to know if I’d boss him around because he liked it) or too pushy (the person practically wanted to put a curfew on me!). Thank goodness he travels for work A LOT. Finally, I found someone, and he moved out, and there was much rejoicing.

The problem with this scenario is that I still have some of his stuff at my place—some borrowed on purpose (like the table) but a good portion that he just hasn’t gotten yet. Some of which he’ll be procuring this evening.

so far, so good.

Today he emailed me to ask a favor: y’see, he's going to VA this weekend--he's playing middle man for some jeep thing for his friend and also taking some of his stuff to his parent's house—things that are still in my storage unit. He has a Jeep, and he asked if he could please store his back seat at my place--apparently he's leaving to go out of town immediately after work and hasn’t had a chance to remove it yet and is afraid his car will be too full blah-dee-fricking-blah. anyhoo.

okay, fine, this is fine.

and I told him yes, he could keep it at my place, but ONLY if it fit in the storage unit. because, as it turned out, he was hoping he could put it IN MY BEDROOM if it didn't fit in the storage. what?!? surely he jests, you would think. no, no, wrong. he even said "(pout)" at one point. yikes.

maybe I'm wrong here, but I'm going to go out on a limb and say that I don't think you ask to store stuff in the bedroom of your ex-girlfriend who you just moved out of the apartment with and who now has Random McRandomson for a roomie because your stupid ass said "no, we're fine" in May when you two were debating renewing your lease only to let your mother wig out later and convince you your girlfriend is evil and conniving and now you're broken up and anyway...um, yeah, I think I'm annoyed. And I just don’t get it. The denseness abounds.

I mean, I consider myself rather well informed of what is/isn't polite/proper/normal. I figure that I *get* it. I know which silverware to use and to bring a gift to your hostess when you stay at someone's home. Formality and protocol do not escape me. But the logic of this does. oh well. hopefully it will be quick and painless. we shall see.

The Morning After..

Welp, as an update to my happy vday post, Mr. Safe is MAD. MAD. MAD. at me... actually NOT speaking to me. Well, you see, I suppose that IS the mature thing to do, right? Mr. Safe found out that I went to lunch with Mr. Ex (IT. WAS. LUNCH. Who freaking CARES? Mr. Ex and I are friends now *sigh*). Then, he found out Mr. Myspace got me flowers, too. So, he got his panties in a wad and has now not only gotten pissed at me, but TALKED about it to EVERYONE in the office practically. To make matters better, he gets all the sympathy from people b/c he acts all forlorn and confused. Okay, really quick.. Note here that Mr. Safe has NEVER asked me out on a date (b/c he's Mr. Safe) and didnt even CALL me BACK yesterday (on vday), so really.. WHAT??!! I have NEVER said I want anything with Mr. Safe and have actually said the OPPOSITE to him. WHAT.THE. HELL. As much as I LOVE having my office talk about me behind my back as though I am some evil flower hoarding troll, I am so fired up. Ladies, I know you can relate this simple thought... If you're mad at ME, why dont you talk to ME instead of other people?! OH. MY. GOD. Are all single guys out there just freaking nuts?! I believe so.

I tried to play the mature route.. I instant messaged.. then went to his office.. then called him.. all with NO reply. I have been trying to HOURS to talk to him as I feel this whole thing would have been avoided if he and I had spoken. grrrrrrRRRRRRRR! I am assuming he and OUR office friends went to lunch. without me. Great, so I get flowers and eat lunch with an ex and now I'm apparently the devil. Perfect. Then, I took the low road. I emailed him.. in the heat of anger. I think I ended my rant with something bitchy like "oh, and btw.. happy valentines." LOL! I am such a bitch sometimes. It's evil, but it makes me laugh...only cause Im mad.

Here's the deal.. Mr. Safe is my best guy friend and is it fair that I KNOW he likes me and have tried to get things going with him before? Not really.. but.. in my defense, I TRIED to like him b/c I wanted to so very badly. I wasnt having some evil plan to get him to propose and then run away laughing. (insert cruella deville) I mean... I just got out of a serious relationship. My emotions were f-ed up! Also, please note.. again.. Mr. Safe.. NEVER asked me out... This is the whole reason he's Mr. Safe.. b/c he is so sweet and sincere.. but then gets all freaking little school boy whiney when his feelings get hurt. Im like.. GROW. A. PAIR. and deal with this like an adult.. Afterall, he IS 6 years older than me.

Here I am.. left with my frustration and having to stay the rest of the day and work as he gets office PITY from me getting flowers. Thanks, asshole, for ruining me being kinda happy about the flowers and feeling special. Thanks a lot. Annoying. How is it that women get such a bad wrap for being "too emotional" and not "saying how they feel?" when I know myself.. and others.. have NO problem expressing how we feel. It's not my fault GUYS are so immature! Hmph!
-BB :)

Stop and smell the roses.... again.. and again...

So, here I sit.. on stupid valentines day.. in my office.. when I get an FTD box.. with my FAVORITE kind of roses.. pink! Okay, so.. to top it off, it has the SWEEEEEETEST card...from Mr. Myspace! Yeah, as my cheeks turn red, face heats up, and a smile creeps across my lips.. ANOTHER bunch of pink roses arrives...from Mr. Safe. My thoughts "Oh no..please no.. Uh oh..." Please know that I work with Mr. Safe..and he is THANKFULLY not here today in meetings, but um.. OH. MY. GOD. Ladies...all the ladies.. louder now.. help me out.. all the ladies.. WHAT DO I DO?!!!! I havent gotten flowers delivered on Vday.. like EVER.. and now I have TWO dozen.. from DIFFERENT guys.. Damn, I'm either a pimp or I have some SERIOUS drama headed my way! LOL! I guess I have to meet Mr. Myspace now for sure. Sheez. SHEEZ! SHEEEEEZZZZ!!! See what married people miss out on! Gah!! LOL! Seriously though.. Mr. Safe would be SO upset to know he wasnt the ONLY one who sent me flowers... crap. I mean.. Im not leading him on.. seriously.. But, he likes me and I'd be lying if I said I didnt TRY really hard to get something going with him.. but.. well.. damn I like the less-safe and different area codes. Oh boy....

I realize whining about this is done with a smile on my end.. and you are questioning my talking about this.. But damnit.. Its been awhile since I had something like this to talk about. So. there.
BB

i wanna get married.

okay, that's a lie.

well, sort of, anyway.

it's not so much that I mind being single. it's that I mind the pitiful looks, the tiptoeing around subjects. And, though I'm all about odd numbers, I get tired of feeling like a third or fifth or seventh wheel. I'm a one in a sea of twos. and maybe three dog night was right--one IS the loneliest number.

I can't seem to recall a good valentine's day. like, ever. For the most part, I've been *taken* on VDay. But not this year...

I didn't have a boyfriend on valentines day in 8th grade--he asked me the day after.
9th grade-I got a plastic sunflower. seriously.
10th grade-I baked my boyfriend a heart-shaped chocolate chip cookie cake. He let his brother eat it and gave me nothing in return.
11th grade-dinner at Novel Idea, where I was confused all night, looking for the lobster. Y'see, lobster bisque? yeah, it's a soup.
12th grade-I didn't see my BF. He was away at college. I probably got a card and a cd.
freshman year-I probably had a test. And I probably got dinner. and my dad died six days later.
sophomore year-I think we went to dinner with his parents. Or we hung out in his frat house room. ooh, and I think he gave me a Mary Engelbreit tea pot, for which one clearly has no use while living in a sorority house.
junior year-this was one of the better ones, mostly 'cause I had a new boyfriend then and had made a huge stink about how they always sucked.
senior year-uber hectic. went to the olive garden. no presents.
2004-I don't even want to talk about it.
2005-I went car shopping and then to dinner at a bar. We were "just dating" at that point, and the car guy spoke to him that whole time. I at least got a back rub out of it.
2006-droopy pink gerbera daisies, orange lilies (which mean hatred) both purchased at the grocery store on the way home, no card and I made dinner.

that's gonna make this one the lucky #13. and I'm celebrating it with my friend betsy. which will be plenty fun, to be sure--but if I were married??? people wouldn't give me the pitiful looks, and at least there'd be a justification for why I'm hanging out with a girl friend on a holiday such as this one...

eh. can't wait for this holiday to be o-ver. only pity is that they'll stop running the funny proflowers commercial...

and at least there's NO WAY you can mess up a vday spent with a friend. champagne + fondue + chocolate=guaran-damn-teed good time. :)

~foxysavant

so, maybe those girls on grey’s anatomy were onto something.

(I hope you watch Grey’s. If you don’t, go rent it, starting at the beginning. You’ll thank me later, I promise—well, as long as you have a sense of humor, anyway.)

there is something unbelievably sexy about a guy who is an asshole. not a huge jerk, not someone who treats you like crap. but who has just a little bit of the asshole trait in him.

he’s kind of glib, you could say.
glib with a touch of, I don’t know…rude or slick or something.
except he’s saying what he’s thinking, and he means it.

he’s ingratiating but with snappy come-backs and back-handed compliments, and perhaps a completely un-subtle comment on your cleavage. (which is kinda sorta okay, 'cause you totally wore that shirt on purpose)

he’s slick. and he’s smart. and sharp-tongued.
a little brazen, a little brash. maybe even cheeky.
if he were a girl you’d call him sassy. or saucy.

or Sexy. As. Hell.

and he' shameless in his ogling.
and that makes it totally okay.
and makes him even more appealing.

he’s a serving of meat with a side of audacity. (pun intended, to be sure)

he’s a McSteamy.

and on Friday I re-met him. No, no, not Eric Dane. This guy…

I could tell you the rest of the story—the backflip in the bar that his friend did (in exchange for a round of shots for the four of us). or how when I saw him the very first thing I did was call him out on the beer-stealing. how he and his friend paid for everything for us the entire night—including our cover to the bar, which totally impressed me. but that wasn't what made him so appealing...

y'see, the whole time I felt like I was playing a game of brazen chess/flirting—and let me tell you, I gave a performance that would make Bobby Fischer applaud. but…

really? I’m just interested in the fact that I was practically drooling over him. And I was okay with him saying to my friend, “okay, but if we dance I’m going to molest her on the dance floor-just a little, but enough.” (and, um, he totally did. seriously.) I didn’t mind that he jokingly put a dollar in the front of my shirt, and I actually got a little jealous when he started comparing my boobs to other girls (it was funny at the time, and kind of my fault, too, but I think that’s exactly the reaction he wanted!)

I mean, what?!? This is COMPLETELY unlike me?

the kicker though? when there was a moment (okay like three—one while dancing, two while sitting at the bar talking) where he might have kissed me—and he didn’t. and he even said “I’m not gonna kiss you in a bar.” Later he wanted to go home with me, but all he’d done was kiss me on the cheek. (okay, like seven times, and once on the little corner of the jaw—just enough to make me want more, woulda stopped him, but it was a complete surprise and I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t like it)

he was a total McSteamy, but with a bit of class? How does that even WORK? And what guy feels it’s okay to molest a girl (but just a leeeetle) on the dance floor (to billie jean, by the way), put a dollar in her cleavage, compare her boobs to those of the other bar-hoppers, try to go home with her, but feels it would be inappropriate to kiss her in the bar?

I mean, not that I want to be the girl who kisses the Sexy-Beer-Stealing-Bit-of-an-Asshole Guy in a bar. But, um, could you blame me if I did? And, furthermore, can you blame me for sincerely hoping he calls to ask me out?

…yeah, didn’t think so…

perhaps I’m having a meredith moment. and if I am, I sure don’t seem to mind.

~foxysavant

Walleriffic Monday

I posted..but then I didnt like it. So, here's take deux. Who out there has walls when it comes to dating? ME!ME! (insert me raising my hand like a school girl). The question I pose out there is... walls are in place for good measure, right? Okay.. well.. when are walls too much? When do you have too many up? Or.. when are you supposed to let them down? I have lots of them with the male sector...for good reason in my opinion. They are just what they sound..protection. In terms of the wall-like protection, I double bag it. haha. I mean.. I can talk, chat it up, flirt with a guy from behind my walls and feel protected, unexposed. I can START to climb them, but ultimately know I can totally jump back over to the safe zone should somethign happen. Sooo..when is that magical (annoying) point when you realize "Shit! Where'd the damn wall go?" and you turn around.. looking..and NADA. This point is usually after a night of heavy drinking when you initiate the DTR (define the relationship) or throw out the drunken L bomb..or even do the dirty..and I mean dirty. (hey, you're drinking, right? whatever). I rather like my walls. I dont think Im ready to let them down, climb over them, or really even move.. I'd rather my little muffled voice come from behind the wall. Yup. Mr. Myspace comes in this weekend. I had better watch my wine intake. ;) With some people, in wine there is truth. With me, in wine there is bullshit. Seriously. It totally messes up my walls. I get all "nice" and "charming" and all that makes me wanna vomit in my mouth a little. Yeah.
BB

Yeah, so.

He makes me giggle. We have SO MUCH in common...and lots NOT in common, but interesting stuff. He's genuine. He's adorably handsome. What's the problem, you ask? He's Mr. Myspace. I have an internet crush. I have tried really hard to baulk his friendliness, often imagining he has really bad breath and unclean fingernails and is just luckily photogenic. I even stooped so low as to ASK him if he had unclean fingernails...to which he dutifully answered "no" and jokingly called me Fort Knox. This, mind you, makes me laugh a little b/c he knows I have walls..and he doesn't try to climb them. This is not to say I am going to go beyond my myspace crush-ness. I have NO intention of jet setting to see a stupid boy. However, I guess (I say reluctantly) I can meet him when he's here.. just to judge the fingernails. However, 1. I will NOT be alone with him (in case he's a killer), 2. he will NOT see my apt (b/c Im not a whore.. and b/c I dont want him to know where I live (refer to number 1) and 3. I will not like him. Hopefully. Shit. *sigh* Gahhh.. he's photogenic. Damnit.

what's that I smell?

yeah, so. foxy is angry. verrrrry angry.

!!!

but I think you might like foxy when she's angry. it's kinda fun when I get all mean. well, unless you're getting the brunt of it.

I've been seeing this guy, right? Our first date was in early December. we got each other little Christmas presents and we've been on a lot of REALLY good dates. REALLY. Like, talk-(and-other-stuff) until-three-in-the-morning dates. With wonderful activities, splendid food, incredible company and breathtaking kisses.

and then.

so, he asks, but you aren't ready for commitment quite yet. you need to slow those horses to a trot. a nice, fun, bouncy trot. a trot with kisses and cuddles and patience. and you say so. 'cause that's how you roll.

five days later. a mere FIVE. you let him know that you-with-the-issues aren't ready for titles, but you're also not seeing anybody else. he doesn't have to reply, of course. but you wanted to let him know.

fast forward with me. [insert wayne’s world doo-duh-lee-doos here]

you have now gone on two more dates post expression-o’-affection, and are on your third. you go see a play. you laugh. you hold hands. he plays with your hair, he rubs your leg during it. Very feely stuff going on, sending some clear i-like-you-a-lot messages.

you go to dinner, you eat, you enjoy, you try oysters for crying out loud! you have wine. and more wine. all good. and then once he gets you back to his place, having just sat on his bed, he tells you he is seeing someone else, too. and has been for a few weeks. now, based on the calendar, you told him you weren’t seeing anyone as of---well, does it even matter?!?---two weeks and a day ago. meaning he wanted to “commit” a day short of three weeks ago. You manage to keep your cool until he says, “I never meant to break your heart. and I think maybe I have a little bit…I hate seeing you just lying there with watery eyes.” which of course made my eyes betray my cool. stupid eyeballs. Plus, who is he to think my heart was his to break, HUH? Yeah, well, I ended up staying at his place that night—it was 3am, I was upset and my vision wasn’t swell ‘cause my eyes kept watering. it was awkward, but he said he liked us both blah blah blah.

le sigh. le-friggin sigh.

but now? hoooo boy.

So, a friend of mine met this girl he’s seeing. It took some snooping to be sure (involving an evite, clues and an indirect question where he over-volunteered info—ps, how magnanimous of her to have offered to not come to the party that we were both invited to, she as a friend initially, me as a bordering-on-gf)

PS-commit talk was on a saturday. party invite was sent the following wednesday. the next day, thursday, I told him I wasn’t seeing anyone else.

and I don’t mean to be rude here (okay, yes I do), but word on the street is she is not a pretty girl.

Not.
Even.
A.
Little.

I’m sure she’s “nice” and “clean” and “healthy” (hello, rush adjectives?) but seriously…she was described as “looking like a rat—no, like a rat with an overbite.” It is NEVER good to be described as resembling a rodent. EVER. So I am being jerked around, given a daily dose of drama and having mini freakouts over a guy who will pick a girl who looks like a rat over me. Ummm…what?!? I mean, okay, so I’m no super model. But I’ve got the smarts, and I’m “easy on the eyes,” if you will. And my boobs and ass ain’t anything to scoff at neither. If you go down the checklist-for-girls, perhaps my only deficiency is my damn *suitcase*, but most of the time that’s a blessing in disguise. I’m a catch. Like, seriously. Not just ‘cause my mommie told me so. But I digress.

so. things that are wrong with this picture…
1) rat-girl.
2) no phone call from guy for ELEVEN days. only email. good emails, with questions, but still…
3) another email for the invite to come over tonight.
4) no phone call to finalize plans for tonight.
5) rat-girl.
6) party on Saturday I’m supposed to go to but don’t know anyone.
7) I’m cute, dammit!

Yeah. guess what foxy’s going to do?

I am going to look hot. H-O-T=foxy. And when I go over to his house tonight I am going to pleasantly sit through dinner, if I can manage it, and then? I’m going to tell him what I think. I’m not going to be a bitch (much) and I’m seriously going to attempt to avoid making fun of rat-girl directly. But I will say…

1) you should invite rat-girl to your party.
2) you shouldn’t have told me you wanted to “commit” and then started dating someone like a week later.
3) I’m not a date-other-people-this-late-in-the-game (hello, dating for two months, much?) kind of girl.
4) I like ya, but you aren’t worth putting myself on the line here. I’m not an idiot. Someone WILL get hurt. And it’s gonna be me. ‘Cause you already picked her over waiting for me once despite what you said like six days prior. And you're nice and swell and all, but I'm not going to go all in for a guy who treats me like this. nuh-uh. [and perhaps a talk-to-the-hand for effect?]
5) we are not in middle school.
6) I am awesome. This is your loss. And you totally deserve her. Totally.
7) later, dude.

Okay, so maayyyyybe I’ll tone that stuff down. A little. But I’m going to start with #1. This is sooo not worth my time. And it’s really effing annoying. Who acts like this, huh?

and if he's all "but I choose YOU!" which I'm HIGHLY doubting, then too bad. because he already was a contestant in the foxy game and he doesn't even deserve a consolation prize. oooh except maybe I'll bring a mouse trap? ;)

yeah, I guess the rat-bastard should have the rat-girl. And that’s what I smell…a rat.

down my throat

The fun of having my singledom shoved down my throat.

I am single. Surprise. That is why I am a writer on this blog. It is a requirement. Single AND smart. It is not an “and/or” title, it is an “and.”

But constantly I am bombarded in my daily life with the sad fact that, yes, I am single. Remember the scene in “Bridgette Jones’ Diary” where she goes to the dinner party and is confronted with sappy happy couples all asking questions of today’s single ladies.

“Oh why are there so many single girls?”
“Time is ticking, don’t you want to settle down?”
“Are you covered in lesions and that is why you don’t have a boyfriend?”

Yes, I MUST be covered in lesions.

My roommates are a couple. And I swear if I have to hear “Hon, will you help me with this?” or a smooch, or even argh, “I love you hon.” I just might vomit. Twice.

Not that I want to hear them fight. I just don’t need to be reminded at all hours of their deep, passionate, never ending love. (He has cheated on her in the past so they aren’t perfect) I have been on dates, and even had guys over for a warm, home cooked meal, and I would never IMAGINE being openly affectionate with someone in from of them. 1) I am not into PDA and 2) it just plain rude.

But every night, I come home to love central and try not to choke on my own double vomit.

I don’t even get a reprieve from this love forced bulimia when I am at work. My AIAR (already in a relationship) coworker and her approach to MY social life involves a “look at me, look at me” attitude towards any boy who visits our desk, for even the most professional of reasons.

Now the AIAR has a boyfriend of over 6 years, but obviously has to be the center of attention at all times, because obviously she is the most amazing woman of all time and how could anyone NOT want her (overweight, ugly facial piercing, obnoxious personality and just plain rude behavior may be a deterrent). But on top of her constant cock blocking of my nerdy I.T. crush, she still has deemed herself the judge of any guy who approaches me. “He’s too tall, too short, too nerdy, too boring, too poor, too rich, too good of a dresser…”

I am old enough to pursue my own relationships and for anyone, except perhaps my mother, my sister and my best friend Katie, to judge my suitors is way out of line. As an adult I am able to 1) get a gun 2) rent a car 3) join the army 4) picks boys I go on dates with.

And I’m not allowing these people to step all over me, I voice my concern for their meddling or their public displays of gross affection. They are just to busy making our or sticking their noses where it don’t belong.

I have allies in the world. Fellow singles who are part of this journey of self discovery. And it is always appreciated when AIARs support your efforts to date. I just don’t like to have things shoved down my throat (but what girl does?)


- always yours, the single one

This just in..

Mr. Myspace is coming in town next week to visit his REAL (nonmyspace) friends and family. Um. WHAT DO I DO? I was SO safe...the rebounding from a distance shit was quite funny. Meet for drinks with a group? Totally ignore him? He doesnt have my number or anything, but what's a girl to do with her hot myspace friend who seems normal and is coming in town? A girl doesnt really want anything.. maybe more hickeys. Please know I'm kidding on that one. The turtlenecks are getting old. What if it's like seeing your favorite celebrity on tv and realizing they're a complete moron in real life? I mean.. *sigh* All good myspace flings must come to an end. Healthy? Me? Likely not. ;) I think I prefer the not knowing him. Yeah. Done. -BB

Mr. In the Middle

When I blog on here, it seems to be more than once in a day...then nothing for a week or so. Well, here's today's second rant. Someone likes me...a lot. This someone would make an EXCELLENT boyfriend...and maybe even more someday. He wouldn't cheat.. He wouldn't lie.. He'd be a best friend and more. I know it. He has his shit together. He pays attention. He's romantic. I mean.. sheez.. This. attracts. me. HOWEVER, every time I start something with him, I feel like maybe there's something missing. I cant explain it. But, I dont think I've ever wanted it to be there with someone so. badly. Inevitably, I just dont "get there." In short, he's safe...and that both scares me in a good way but also makes me long for something that isn't so safe.

I think of Mr. Ex.. and I don't want to be with him anymore.... DONT GET ME WRONG. I never REALLY, deep down, trusted him with my feelings... Oh, how I wanted to. I had my bouts of trust.. sometimes LONG bouts.. But, then a little doubt crept in.. I think it was b/c he is so very much like me.. not that I dont trust myself.. sheez.. getting complicated. Anyway, I just know I have a lot of walls up and sometimes those walls have hurt people in my past. Okay.. anyway.. Mr. Ex traveled and was kinda dangerous. He was loving and kind..but also adventurous and took me out of my type A personality. We exchanged glances from across a crowded bar...smiled...and engaged in our individual conversations, knowing that little glance was sooo very significant. He is persistent and passionate, but too into figuring himself out to be good in anything long term at this place in his life. He's not safe...and that both excited me and makes me long for something more safe.

Here's my question.. is it so very wrong to want something in-between? Does that even EXIST?! I feel as though I go from 180 to 180.. safe to not safe...when all I'm really looking for is something in the middle. I could live my life with Mr. Safe..and be content...but in that logical, this makes sense kind of way.. I could take my chances with a Mr. Ex type...and have the most intense happiness EVER.. inevitably followed by the most intense sadness. This is not to say I am looking for anything right now.. but even if I was, I am in a place where I wonder if I even know what the hell I'm looking for. Does Mr. In the Middle exist? Someone told me I'm a moron for letting Mr. Safe slip through my hands.. b/c most girls dont ever find a person like him. That makes me incredibly sad..b/c it makes me wonder if I am destined to be with a Mr. Not Safe. (I quickly block that thought out)

Sadly, I am a risk taker wrapped up in a type A personality. I am an overly sarcastic yet overly sensitive person who thrives on social settings just as much as I love solitude. My dating ad: In-the-middle 20 something seeks fellow in- the-middler to avoid going 180 crazy. :) (oh..and someone who knows how to cover up hickeys) ;)

-BB

my suitcase

sometimes, like when I'm just getting to know a guy, I feel like I have all of these tricks up my sleeves, or hidden non-fun surprises. I feel like I have to time what I say and disseminate the information just so, or I'll end up flubbing the punch line.

and it gets a little frustrating.

I am a fun girl. And a cute girl. And a nice and smart and silly and easy-going and high-maintenance and giving and demanding and hilarious and a good sport and moody. I've got lots of things going for me, and a usual dose of the bad, but nothing too extreme.

until you see my past.

It's, ah, let's say checkered. Nothing heinous, no convictions for possession of coke or murder or felony or grand theft auto, nothing criminal or horribly immoral per se, but certainly it raises a few red flags for Mr. I've-Just-Started-Dating-You. Sometimes I get all worked up about confessing my reality. I try to be up-front and honest without overwhelming the guy. But sometimes I feel like perhaps I'll just live like a recluse and not date so I don't have to share my war stories with anyone. Because it's uncomfortable, I feel like it casts me in a rather poor light and because I have FAAAR fewer concerns about it than people hearing it ex-post-husbando. because I've dealt with, moved on, gotten the hell out of dodge. and because and there are always the questions. the damn questions.

I feel like I'm getting better. Like I upgraded my suitcase to one with wheels and a retractable handle instead of the old fashioned kind--y'know, like the ones you had as a little girl, or those turquoise pleather affairs that seemed to be held together with duct tape? My suitcase no longer throws me off kilter, it's just something I bring with me. My load feels lighter and there's less friction and disarray, but it's still there.

maybe some day I'll get it down to a duffel bag. Or a backpack. Or a messenger bag. Or maybe even a clutch. that would be a really big achievement in my eyes--to whittle away my pile-o-past and condense it into the part that really matters, and the part that I'd want to keep because it's taught me about myself. I don't think I'll ever get rid of it entirely--or if I do, I'm not sure it will matter anymore.

see, the thing is...

baggage isn't cute.
even if it's louis vuitton.

and even if you carry your baggage in a birkin bag, it's still baggage.

it is what it is.


and I'm a card (or cart?) carrying member of the "I've got baggage" club. I'm not the founder nor the President, but I think I'm at the very least a Member at Large.

so, question: do you think I could just check my baggage with a skycap and pick it up at the end of the line? I've only got one piece and I think it's under the weight limit...

~foxysavant

Can I talk about...

.....other things besides dating.. and dating, too?? Yeah, I can. Since this blog is anonymous..and fledgling, I think we can talk about whatever we damn well want. Yes. :) Anyway.. so I have hickeys..I havent had hickeys since I was..um.. 18.. it's funny.. kinda.. How I got them.. I'll make you wait for that one..

So, I loathe my job. Being single has its perks... like not dragging a family down with you if you want to quit a job, buuuuut.. being SMART and single makes you realize you have no one else to pay your bills should you flounder miserably by switching jobs. (aka I have a hard decision)I have sent NUMEROUS resumed to a variety of jobs.. that I am TRULY interested in..and have gotten NO. RESPONSES. Seriously? Well, take that back, I followed up with a woman via email about one I applied for a week and a half ago.. She wrote me and said "We are reviewing the applications daily, so I am sure you will have a response soon." Um.. does that mean I'm not in the running? Daily? I applied last week. Sheez.

Okay, so the hickeys.. Look, people. I'm not proud of this moment. I had a long week last week.. LONG. WEEK. I foundered. I faltered. I have hickeys. But, damnit.. it was fun. It wasn't random and gross, but I really dont think discussing it on here is gonna be good since I am at work and people walk in all the time (and NO, it wasnt a co-worker..ew). I'm wearing a turtleneck. That's all you need to know. (and it was SOO fun) And.. I honestly feel pretty damn good that I kinda "used" someone for stress relief. He got stress relief, too.. I mean.. I'm not a complete bitch. Just sayin.. it had been MONTHS, people. MONTHS. I'm in my 20s... A girl has needs. *happy sigh* Here's the question.. can I really be as no strings attached as I feel? I have NEVER been like that.. and I dont plan on losing my morals or anything, but.. I wouldnt mind wearing a turtleneck again next week if you catch my drift. lol! Hmm.. well, guess I'll just have to watch out for feelings getting in the way. Til then, I feel so...so... well...just so. and I like being so. (mischievous grin here)