I don’t even know what to call this

January 2, 2009

I played tennis as a kid and I was decent at it. I pretty much stopped playing when I was 16 or so and this past summer I decided that I missed it and wanted to get back into it. I went on Craigslist and found an instructor with good enough credentials and set up some time with him.

I was horrible. Like really really bad. But the guy, Grin, was patient and encouraging and I had fun with him. We ended up talking a bit at the end and he was definitely cool. First, he played tennis, which is always a plus in my book. He was also a chef and enjoyed the finer things in life – such as BBQ and cheese. Did I mention he was cute too? Perfect.

So the next day I get an email from him saying how much fun he had with me at the lesson. That he hoped we’d get together soon to have some BBQ and so he could see my dimples. There were winks all over the place. It was crazy. So anyway, I kept playing (if you can call it that) tennis with him and ended up having dinner with him once. We had a blast but he just gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek at the end of the night, but I was still getting the same type of emails saying how cute I was and stuff.

We played more tennis and the end of the summer came. He only spends summers in this area and lives across the country for the rest of the year. So I had a goodbye lunch with him where he told me things like I was an amazing woman inside and out. That I took his breath away, that he wished he had taken me on a proper date, blah blah blah, but that he knew he was leaving soon and hadn’t wanted to start something he couldn’t finish. He asked me to keep in touch, telling me he’d be in town often and to see him when I was out there (I was supposed to go out there a couple times). 

So we’ve done kept in touch. Then on New Year’s Eve (Oh Happy New Years, by the way) at 11:32 pm I get this text: “Happy New Year LS! I’m going to be a Dad!”



Let the music play, down at Fraggle Rock

December 29, 2008

Bubbles and I were out one night and I wasn’t really into meeting anyone so I decided to be the best wing-woman ever. I gave her number to a bartender she’d been into for a while and then decided to work on this guy, Bear, she’d been eyeing all night. I went up to Bear and his buddies (one hottie, one nottie) and chatted away. After introducing Bubbles and convincing Bear that he should buy her breakfast that weekend, I tried to find a way to talk to the hottie friend. Instead the nottie, Muppet, had me cornered. My attempts to get away from him were feeble and I ended up with his number. I never called him.

About a month later, after many scheduling conflicts, Bubbles and Bear had plans to grab a drink after work and apparently I was expected to come along as Muppet wanted to see me. As I was going back & forth with Bubbles, a Facebook notification popped up on my Blackberry. “Blah Blahblah would like to add you as a friend.” Who is this random Mr. Blahblah, I do not know. So I asked. Turns out, it was Muppet. I had been Facebook stalked. UGH. So after a couple emails through FB, I agreed to hang out that night. The 4 of us went to the same bar where we’d all met, got a couple drinks, started a trivia game and then Bubbles and I took off. Bear was cool and she liked him but I was not feeling Muppet. He looked like a tame version of Animal and was kind of arrogant too.

A day or two later, I got a message on Facebook from him. “Hey had a great time hope we can do it again sometime send me your number mine is whatever whatever whatever.” I did not want this guy having my number so I replied something to the effect of “Was a cool night. I love trivia. We should hang out as a group soon” to which he replied mentioning that I’d forgotten to include my number. I never wrote back.

Bubbles and I were at a different bar a couple days after that (ha! It sounds like we’re such partiers) and he was there. I just avoided eye contact and haven’t seen him since.


Cougar goes to prom

September 30, 2008

Against my better judgement, I met a boy on the subway. I say boy because I later found out he was 21. He was friendly and talking to everyone around him and we chatted a bit. Then I ended up seeing him over and over again and agreed to go to lunch with him. Ahem. I know. But I actually thought he was nice and he seemed more than ok with the age difference.

During lunch The Kid asked me to go to a formal “thing” with him on Sunday, saying he would look like the man and would love it if I was there. After asking a few questions, I began to think that it was a frat formal he was inviting me to. (Could I have more red flags here?) I told my co-worker friends this and it immediately became “You’re going to the prom.” Ugh. So I kept asking questions.

I found out later it wasn’t the prom or anything school related. He’s part of the Freemasons and it was their annual ball. He had no clue what was going on and I only knew it would be some variation of a cocktail hour, an informal dinner, or a ball (oh yeah, I knew exactly what I needed to wear <—dripping with sarcasm) but ultimately decided to go. I threw on a cute little dress and made myself look fab and headed over there. I knew they had some rule about the guys wearing black suits so I figured with a white shirt and any tie, he couldn’t mess this up. Wrong. SO SO SO wrong.  I’m going to try my best to give you a visual of what he wore.

His suit was black, his shirt was a thick green seersucker and his tie was blue and yellow

My eyes wanted to bleed. I stuck with it though and hung out with him for the night. It was just bad. He was too young. He wasn’t chivalrous. I think he tried to make out with me at some point. He wanted to take the subway back while I was trying to hunt down a cab. He has cankles. I couldn’t see them through his suit but knew they were there. Even during the night, I was talking to the wife of a man who had taken this guy under his wing and she asked how we’d met. I told her and she went “Oh honey. You’re not supposed to meet people on the train.” Yup.

He was just doofy. It’s the best word I can find to describe it. And definitely not for me.


Did you just touch my butt?

September 26, 2008

**Sorry for the delay. It’s been impossible for me to try to get this night into words. Let me know if it doesn’t make sense.**

So 8 years passed after college and the separation from Senor Del Campo. Then one Saturday early this year, he found me on MySpace and we got back in touch. He kept trying to see me but at one point he had told me he loved me (?? Uh, hello. You haven’t seen me in a decade) and I wasn’t comfortable with what his expectations would be. Plus, it would never work out. We are WAY too different. So instead, I started to put together a little reunion for us and our friends from college. It was agreed that Senor Del Campo, my best friend Juicy and this guy Escobar, who had lived with SDC in college, would all meet up in the city where Escobar lived (it was a good central point).

So that Juicy and I would be comfy, I booked us a hotel room and figured that the guys would stay at Escobar’s place. Escobar had been a drinking mess in college but had since gotten a DUI and was on probation (no bars & no drinking allowed) so he told us all about how he’d cleaned up his life and was doing great. Awesome. We decided to just go out to dinner and then just hang out in the hotel room and drink so as not to compromise that.

Back at the hotel, this is how it went down. Escobar and Senor Del Campo drank an entire bottle of whiskey.  I checked my work email for about 10 seconds. Escobar went down the hall to get ice and peed in the ice machine. I ordered pizza for everyone and SDC decided to be obnoxious and pile all the white sheets on top of the pizza. SDC kept giving me looks of expectation which I ignored. He also kept grabbing me and getting a little rough with me even though I asked him not to.

Then Escobar started insisting that we go to a bar (what probation?). I wasn’t into it but Juicy wanted to go and I didn’t want to send her off alone, so I went. The place was actually ok and I was having a decent time until SDC starting touching my butt. I made it clear to him that it wasn’t cool. Then Escobar decided to corner me and tell me that I was a crappy friend and my priorities were messed up. (Did I mention we were in a bar and he was on probation?) I got pissed and called it a night.

At some point during the night Escobar disappeared and Senor Del Campo peed on the bathroom floor, which I got to step in in the morning because he didn’t clean it up. We left in the morning and SDC called me on my drive home. He babbled on about wanting to be with me or something and I told him that disrespecting me wasn’t the way to do it. Then he decided it would be really smart to say “Well you’re still beautiful chubby.”

WHAT?!?!?! (1) I’m 115 lbs. Yes, if you’re looking at Victoria Beckham (who I love), I’m chubby. Otherwise, not so much. (2) Even if I was severly obese, you don’t say that to a chick you’re trying to hook up with. I was already pissed about the other stuff so I just ended the conversation and haven’t really talked to him since.


No touchy-touchy

September 11, 2008

This story could get long so I’m breaking it up into 2 parts. Bear with me.

In college, I was friends with the hippie crowd (very unlike me – see post where I say I was clubbing all the time). Our senior year, my best friend, Juicy, and I lived across the street from a few of the guys in this crowd and we spent incredible amounts of time over at their apartment. Why? I don’t know.

Anyway, of the 4 guys that lived there, one was Senor Del Campo, of the super dirty hippie variety.  He was usually a little mean to me (I was an easy target seeing as I was trendy and not as “cool” as those guys) but also kind and sweet. Very weird. I don’t quite remember all the details, but a few months into the fall semester, we started sleeping together.

NOTE: By sleeping, I actually mean sleeping. We would just fall asleep together almost every night. Stop rolling your eyes, I’m being honest. A cuddle is nice and comforting. Plus, I don’t lie on here.

So this went on through the end of the semester and there was always this weirdness of emotion between us. Like we liked each other but would have been the oddest couple ever. I don’t know why I hung out with a guy that was mean to me in front of everyone else but nice when we were alone. Aren’t normal bad relationships the opposite? Anyway, I digress. Nothing came of it and soon he was off to Central America for a couple months to study wildlife or something outdoorsy like that. By the time he got back, I’d started dating someone and then he started dating someone himself. We didn’t really talk much after that. Graduation happened and we parted ways.


I was smarter when I was younger

September 4, 2008

Many moons ago, I was a party happy 19 or 20 year old who loved to go clubbing. My girlfriend Maddy and I thought we were hot shit and went to this one club Gotham City pretty often. (Note: I recently found a picture of us from those days. We were not hot shit.) I digress.

One night at Gotham, despite his being many feet above me in a suspended booth, I somehow ended up talking to the DJ for quite a bit and exchanging numbers with him. We talked for a couple weeks, had great conversations and then Peanut asked me to dinner. He went on and on about how he wanted to take me somewhere great and how amazing it would be and blah blah blah. So I went out, bought a hot dress, did myself up real nice and got ready to have a blast.

A few hours before I was supposed to see him, he called asking if I could pick him up. Being young and naïve, I figured something was wrong with his car and agreed. When I pulled up to his house, I noticed that Peanut was about 2 inches shorter than me (ummm, I’m 5’2. This is hard for a man to do). He was also wearing a tee shirt and jeans. Hmmm. Not very complimentary to my fabulous slinky dress but again, I rationalized it. So away we went, off to our super amazing dinner. Or so I thought. After following his directions for quite some time, we pulled in to (I kid you not) Applebees.

Now let me pause for a quick disclaimer: I LOVE Applebees. Their apple crisp is probably my all-time favorite dessert. However, I usually don’t even bother combing my hair before I go there, much less spend time shaving my legs.

So I was still being the sweet young thing I once was and didn’t say anything. Hell, at least I was going to get some mozzarella sticks out of this. We sat down and Peanut immediately began listing off what I could order, based on price.  Uh huh. I know. That was my breaking point. I ordered the most expensive stuff I could find on that menu and listened to him drone on and on about how awesome he was while I waited for it all to arrive. When it did, I took one bite of everything, excused myself to go to the bathroom. I then got in my car and drove home.

One of my finer moments.


PMS makes me better

August 27, 2008

I have PMS. That means I’m angry and puffy for about 9 days straight. That also means that I have no patience for stupidity, which most boys I meet are full of. Today is day 7 so I’m deep into it.

I was supposed to go out with Sebastian tonight. Last week, we decided on Friday night this week. This was huge since I’ve been the proud holder of the Monday night slot for a while. Then before last weekend, he asked if we could move it to Wednesday (today). Fine, no problem. Monday he checked in to make sure we were still on and I confirmed.

Then today I get a text from him asking how I was. When I asked how he was, he told me he was exhausted from all these meetings he has today and tomorrow, blah blah blah. So I asked if this was his way of bailing and he said he wasn’t sure. That he just wanted to give me the heads up. Whatever. Sayonara Señor Sebastian. Here’s my reasoning:

  1. I’ve gone out with him a few times and still know nothing about him
  2. I kind of don’t trust him
  3. He’s young
  4. I have PMS

GRRRRRR. Normally, I’d be a lot more laid back about this but I’m just really tired of this crap. Oh well. At least I didn’t waste time shaving my legs this morning.