Kinky Boot Beasts

The one who recorded live concerts

2011-05-18T18:43:00.000-07:00

(according to this I am not a cradle robber, but still...)

In honor of the guy that I’m going on a date with tonight who just graduated college last year (that makes him what, 22? 23? Oy!) I thought I’d share my own cradle robbing story, but when I was actually in the cradle.

And while you read this, please enjoy Rod Stewart and the Faces' “Maggie May”: the best cradle-robbing-cougar-song out there.

The year I turned 24, I was the hottest thing around. I was living in a new city with lots of young single people. I had two boyfriends during that time and dated a few more. (I almost even had my first dating-a-girl experience; I still regret that that didn’t happen.)

Seriously, I think I had more luck in those 10 months than any other period in my life. I cough it up to the city.

I’m going to call this guy The Pirate because he recorded live music concerts, and even though he would have gotten approval from the bands to do so, it was still in a way illegal. He would go to a show and set up a huge microphone on the floor and stand there with his arms crossed.

I was 23, he was 32. He was the oldest guy I had ever dated. (Tonight it seems we’re switching those numbers around.)

I realize that I wasn’t as big of a music dork then as I am now, and would probably be even more into this guy now than I was then. It would be an interested in experience to date a guy like that now.

I met The Pirate through The-One-Who-Paid-My-$250-Parking-Ticket-Late. It was weird, even though I knew he liked me, he sort of pawned me off to his friend, The Pirate, thinking that we’d get along. I remember that I was watching the Sex in the City DVDs and felt like I was in the show with all the men I had in my life.

I didn't really get anywhere with The Pirate. I think I tried kissing him once and he wasn’t ready for it. I seem to do that a lot, don't I? What’s wrong with me, eh? But we did hang out quite a bit there. And he did give me a bike rack for my car that I used for years. Wasn’t that nice of him?

Rawrrr, well tonight I’m a cougar. Why not? This kid has great hair (like this guy). Seriously.

UPDATE: Just got home: GGFG (Gay Gay Fucking Gay) as my brother would say. Sort of a bummer, but he's so sweet, I want to be his friend. He's moving not to far from me, so I'm glad to hang out with him as he gets to know the city.

The one who just wouldn't go away

2010-09-24T14:59:00.000-07:00

Dear first love,

Please stop flirting with me. I've loved you since 1993. Now you're married with 3 kids. Every time you say something sweet and endearing, my heart breaks a little more. Enough now. Enough.

Sincerely, Heartbroken Girl.

Found this on "Dear Blank, Please Blank" today. Reminded me to share an update with you.

Please check out parts 1 & 2 of this story. But the gist is that I'm probably in love with the boy I dated at summer camp when I was 13 for like 2 weeks. Firecrotch was my first boyfriend and my first kiss. He liked to toy with my emotions and take advantage of them with things like calling me at two in the morning on a regular basis because he knew I would pick up, things like that.

Part 1

Part 2

After that wedding I saw him at with the "most perfect woman in the world" I emailed him saying that I needed to speak with him (to spill my guts and tell him for the second time that I have feelings for him and I don't know what to do about it). He had just started his residency and I guess he just didn't have the time to get back to me. Or it scared him silly. And since he was never good at confrontation, I got only silence.

So months later I finally worked up the courage to send him an email. "I obviously still have feelings for you and I just need to not have you in my life right now. Please do not call me or email me. I am un-friending you from facebook. I gave you a chance to talk, and you ignored it, this is over." That was the main idea.

Firecrotch tried to re-friend me. THREE TIMES he tried to re-friend me in the course of six months or so.

I finally had to call him and in tears and plead with him to stop doing it. Every time he did it hurt so badly. Not only was he doing what I specifically asked him not to, this was his lame and half-assed attempt at some sort of apology or something.

On the phone I asked him why he kept doing it even though I had asked him not to. "I don't want you to forget about me" said Firecrotch. "I can't forget about you" I said, "that's the problem. Why can't you understand that?"

He had nothing else to say for himself.

Honestly, if at any point he had picked up the phone, or written me an email explaining himself, I would have been open. Even now, if he decided that he actually had something to say, I would listen. But this facebook shit just KILLS me.

A couple months ago, Firecrotch tried to friend me AGAIN on facebook. That was it.

I finally blocked him.

Every time I wonder if I'm ready to talk to Firecrotch again, I remember to remind myself that he made me miserable, always reminding me of what I couldn't have.

So Heartbroken Girl, I hear you. But please do yourself a favor and find the strength to cut him off. I still think about Firecrotch way more than I should, but at least he's not he's reopening the wounds.

I figure this story is not over. But I'm happy for now that it is.

The one who left for a three month Zen Buddhist retreat

2010-09-21T10:08:00.000-07:00

It would be just my luck to meet someone right before they left for three months to find peace meditating in the mountains. Additionally, I’m not sure how he feels about me, but when is that ever the case, especially right when you meet someone?

I met the Music Engineer at a party where I was providing the iPod mix. He recognized one of the tracks he put together in his studio on it and took a liking to me immediately. I think he gave me his card twice. He’s kinda funny looking but still very handsome and cute.

And even though I never share names on this blog, let me just tell you that his name is one of my all time favorite names in the world and when I start having children, if my husband doesn’t have this name, I think one of my children might have to. It would also be a great name for a dog or cat. That’s how much I love this name.

ANYWAY, I followed up with the Music Engineer like a good networker should and we ended up having lunch, which he paid for. And I thought, hmm, that’s nice of him to have paid for that. Was that a date?

I called him a few days later to see if he wanted to hang out that evening. He told me he would let me know if he could, and emailed me the next day explaining that he ended up working until midnight with no offer to reschedule. I thought maybe he was blowing me off until I got an invitation from him to a going away party; he was leaving for a Zen Buddhist retreat in 10 days and would be gone for three months. That explains that maybe he wasn’t blowing me off, just that he had another things on his mind.

I figured that was that, but then he called and invited me to a wine tasting party that evening. Even though I was battling a cold, I went. We had a great time and there was even a strange moment where a friend of his said that’s a long time to go away and the Music Engineer and I exchanged what I understood to be, a yup-it’s-a-long-time-and-our-timing-is-terrible look.

So long story short, I missed my train and ended up having to stay at his house, on the couch. The Music Engineer lives at his recording studio, so he sleeps upstairs in the loft. So I could hear him, and he could hear me cough and sniffle all night.

Hot. I am super hot.

And, I didn’t know if I ended up on the couch because I was sick, or because I was going to end up there anyway.

In the morning we had breakfast and talked music, it was fine. I still felt a little awkward about it, but he was great about it.

I went to his going away party, had a great time. Met his Dad and a bunch of his awesome friends. I even made some musical connections that might prove to be very useful.

I emailed him later to say thank you and that I’d love to see him before he left if it was possible, but I totally understand if it’s not. He was trying to wrap up a bunch of projects before he left. I promised I would send him postcards.

He’s leaving in two days and I’m now having fantasies about him calling and asking for one last night of earthly pleasure before he goes to full on monkland and how that conversation would go. Of course I would agree.

I'll let you know if I hear from him. But otherwise I’ll be sure to send him postcards.

The one who was a sexy kisser

2010-09-08T12:18:00.001-07:00

I met the Hipster Lawyer online. He had a picture of him and Henry Rollins in the most hipster bars of hipster-dom in town. His handle was something about music being his crack.

I had to write to him:

"Please save some of that crack for me, I need the music to survive as well."

Hipster Lawyer was humanitarian lawyer, you know, the sexiest type of lawyer. He worked from home, so he didn't look like a lawyer at all. He was scruffy with overgrown hair. He was a little bit older than me, and super hot.

At the end of our first date (at a bar) he kissed me on the cheek and gave me a big bear hug. I loved it. At the end of our second date (also at a bar), I got out of the car claiming that I wanted a hug, and oops - we made out a little bit and...

OH-MY-GOD he might have been the best kisser EVER. A little nip there, suck there and oh-LORD-wowie-wow. I was hooked. Too bad he was aloof, texting me back at weird intervals and not contacting me at all after our dates. It was all me.

I'm not so good with waiting for guys to ask me out again if they make me wait for a few days. I figure, I want more, I'm going to go out and try to get more. Men are stupid and don't know what they want... HA! Wait, that never really works... but I do it anyway because I get antsy. I read "He's Not that Into You" and sadly, it's true. If they want to see you more, they'll make it happen.

But I just wanted to kiss him more. Really.

The third date we went to a music festival in town and were going to meet up with a bunch of his friends. All of them bailed except for this one girl. I asked him how he knew her,

"We used to date, is that okay?"

Sure it's okay, she was nice. And weirdly enough, it was nice to have someone else there to talk to. Definitely a sign that Hipster Lawyer and I were not meant to be. She just seemed a little nervous and was worrying about everything. I told her so - to her face. That might have been a bad move on my part because he asked me about it later. Was I annoyed with her? No. She was just worrying a lot.

We did get to kiss in the car later, and I told him that the only reason I keep called him is because of that. He seemed into it. We meshed that way.

Didn't hear from him again... but I figured I'd make a move anyway and ask him to a show. I heard back THREE DAYS later claiming that he'd like to go but had to "be up early the next morning."'

So I let Hipster Lawyer slip away. I did, at least, get some good kisses out of it.

The one who decided I was a slut before he even met me

2010-06-20T10:07:00.000-07:00

When you meet a new person, and your ex comes up in a conversation, what does a smart person do? You refer to them as your friend, right? The word "ex" just raises red flags for me all over the place and makes my skin crawl a little bit.

So I guess I understood when Woody Allen got a little weird about me referring to my "friends." (I call him Woody Allen because he was a nebbishy Jewish Lawyer).

Over IM (BEFORE I met him) while I was on a business trip:

"So what did you do this evening?"

"I went to a comedy club with a friend of a friend. I met him a couple weeks ago and promised to hang out when I was in town."

"So are you going to see this person again."

"Uh..."

I finally called Woody on it, he explained that the dating site that we had met on was prone to being very sexually promiscuous. "You never know what someone means by the word 'friend' anymore."

Okay, I guess I could see that. Could have just asked me though instead of being subtly rude.

Also, he tended to accost me every time I hopped online. It was annoying, especially when it was midnight and I just wanted to check my email before bed.

I actually did go out with Woody, and the date was actually okay. I had a couple of drinks and probably told him a little too much about myself. I told him that my longest relationship was only 4 months. Oops...ammunition he would use against me later.

After the date, I didn't hear from Woody and he didn't hear from me. I figured I would go out with him again if he called though. Five days later I sign on really quickly to check email, he IM's me and we chat a little bit.

He says "I had a good time the other night, and I felt like the conversation flowed well, but I got the feeling you weren't really into me." Honesty! I can appreciate that.

My phone rings, it's my boss. "Can't talk now! Sorry!" Woody signs off while waiting for me to get back to him and his awkward statement, but sends me an email saying that we can talk about it later.

I go to play a gig and come back around midnight and start writing back to him. I was trying to figure out if I wanted to go out with him again, give him a second chance.. Woody IM's me the moment I'm closing the browser. I do not feel like having this conversation this late at night.

I get another email from him. "Nevermind." It says.

Uh, what?

I go back to my email, and rewrite it. "What the hell was that "nevermind" all about? Are you angry or frustrated with me?" It says basically. "No the vibe was not there, good luck in your dating adventures."

The next morning I wake up to this email:

I wasn't angry with the "nevermind," just resolute in my certainty of the outcome.

To be honest, I wasn't sure if we were relationship material, but I was open to seeing what happened between us. It can be hard for people to be themselves and make an amazing connection during something as inherently awkward as a blind date. Besides, some amazing relationships start with a slow burn instead of fireworks.

Unfortunately, I could tell that you weren't of the same mind. And at the risk of sounding cruel or meanspirited, I think your focus on instant chemistry is probably why your longest relationship has been 4 months long.

No hard feelings. I do hope you find something lasting. Take care.

Did I mention that this is after ONE DATE???

ONE DATE, people!!

I wanted to write Woody back and tell him he had no idea what he was talking about and to go eff himself. But I let it go.

Fly, fly nebbishy Woody Allen man who is so uptight and annoying!!

Good luck finding a cynical and jaded woman to make happy.

The one who was a bad vegan

2010-05-23T09:08:00.001-07:00

This a repost of an earlier story. I feel like I might do this from time to time because some of you kinky boot beasts newbies might have not seen some of the older ones and it's fun for me to reread and reshape a little bit.

BUT, for some reason this particular entry has been collecting Japanese spam comments EVERYDAY for the last 5 months, and it's really annoying. So I figure I would just delete it to throw the spammerbot off the trail and then repost rather than trying to delete all 150 comments one by one.

And also, these graphics I've found after googling "bad cheese" are awesome.
---------------------------------------------------------

Have you ever met a vegan that has the worst diet ever? I mean if you’re going to cut out that much protein, you have to replace it with some really good stuff. Also, you have to be really careful and read labels.

I could never do it. I like chicken and cheese too much. And it turns out that being vegan isn’t the best thing for the human body or animal rights anyway. (Not that I don't respect that way of life, I'm happy to admit that I am too lazy.)

Anyway, this guy called himself a vegan and ate Nacho Doritos. ‘Nuff said.

The one who wasn't crazy enough

2010-05-17T21:59:00.000-07:00

The Professor was nerdy and cute, just the way I like ‘em. But one thing kept us from really connecting: he just wasn’t that crazy. And I mean crazy in that dirty, playful kind of way.

The Professor was seven years older than me and a math professor at a small Catholic college (a good place for a nice Jewish boy). I met him on that Jewish dating website. His pictures were nothing special, I think what drew me to him was his love for his students. I was in academia once upon a time, so I could definitely relate.

The Professor also loved music.

He sang in a local choir, liked to jam out to Billy Joel and musicals on his keyboard. We bonded over our love for the Camina Burana. He didn’t own a pair of jeans, was allergic to cats and lactose intolerant. He also danced like a white man should. You know, like my Dad.

Sounds like my type right?

He hadn’t had a lot of girlfriends either, surprised? Turns out, The Professor had dated a woman a year before me who he said showed him “the ropes” (remember he was seven year older than me, putting him in his mid 30s). So once he worked up the courage to kiss me, we entered that territory.

We would make out on his couch and then he would say “Want to go inside?” Meaning, “let’s go in the bedroom and get naked.” Whoever this woman was that he dated the year before taught him well in some areas but I don’t know what was going on in others. He was good with his hands, but when it came to “performing” it just wasn’t there. I blamed it on nerves and figured maybe it would get better in time, but no dice.

He just also wasn’t “crazy.” I mean there was no passion in the bedroom, he wasn’t into trying something different and I didn’t know what to make of it. Was The Professor still nervous? Was he just too nerdy? Was he just not comfortable? Was he really a 17 year-old boy and had an aging disease? WHAT? And of course I was too weirded out to ask him. I figured we’d work it out if and when we had to.

What was bizarre about that though is that just being around The Professor physically excited me. So there was definitely something going on there.

We had only been seeing each other for three months and he was scheduled to go away for six weeks for the summer to visit his family. About two weeks before he was supposed to go he had a little picnic in the park with some of his friends. I noticed that he wouldn’t show me any affection in front of them, it was really awkward and it made me very uncomfortable. I didn’t feel this way when I had met his friends before and he hadn't acted in the same way.

I confronted The Professor about this the next day and all he could say is that we didn’t have that "lovely- dovey" vibe he wanted. So I said, well, I’m not waiting around six weeks for us to figure it out. So I guess I’m just going to go home.

And that was that.

And it was okay. I needed to go find me some dorky AND crazy.

I know he's out there somewhere. I keep getting closer and closer to him. I can feel it.

The one who was old and douchey

2010-05-16T10:04:00.000-07:00

This is one of my favorite flattering stories. It was one of my best friend’s birthdays and she was celebrating in a restaurant where she had gotten a gift certificate through her job. If it wasn’t for that, I would have not been caught dead in this bougie part of town in this swanky restaurant. I just don’t go to this part of town.

Anyway, we only ordered one bottle of wine because we didn’t want to shell out cash for another bottle. But then the waitress came by with another bottle of wine courtesy of a generous gentleman at another table. She said that he sent a “happy birthday” message to my friend and a special “hello” to me. At that moment I could feel my entire face go red.

Everyone at the table freaked out. Ooooooooo. That guy LIKES you.

Are we adults here or what?

I will call him The Old Man. He was 42. I was 28. Perhaps “Old Man” is a little harsh since he's really not that old. There are other 42 year-olds I would date. But for some reason, being 42 and douchey makes you an Old Man in my book.

The Old Man came over to our table to say hello and chat a little bit with us, but really, chat with ME. I thanked him for making my friend’s birthday a little more special and he gave me a piece of paper with his name and contact info on it. I guess he was nice enough.

“Will you call him?” “You should CALL HIM!”

Thanks guys.

After some cyber-stalking I found out that The Old Man was one of those guys that likes to buy and sell companies and it looked like he had made a lot of money doing it. What do they call them, Venture Capitalists? Totally my type. ha!

I figured "what the hell" and emailed him, thanking him again for the wine. He asked me out to a bar in a much less douchey part of town. Once he started name-dropping and telling me he could hook me up as a music writer, I was flattered, but a little weirded out. He hadn’t even read anything I had written. But I went out with him for a second time anyway. Why? I don't know. Maybe I had nothing else to do.

When The Old Man figured he had buttered me up with his money and connections, this is when he figured he could bag me now, right?

Wrong, sucker. Get your hand off my leg.

Now, I have a friend who’s into rich, powerful guys. It's just her thing. You go girl! After telling her about The Old Man, she was way more interested than I was. But she said, he won’t like me, he likes YOU. But I figured, what the hell, this is a perfect way to get rid of him. In an email, I wrote (and I’m paraphrasing):

“Hey Old Man, thanks for the drinks, but I don’t think it’s going to work out with us. But I have a friend who you might like, interested? If not, no need to reply.”

No reply. Oh well.

Thanks for the wine anyway Old Man!

I leave you with the wise words of Ke$ha's "Dinosaur"

D-I-N-O-S-A U R a dinosaur!
O-L-D-M-A-N You're just an old man!
Hittin on me, what?
You need a CAT scan!

The one who just wasn't worth all that work

2009-12-07T00:06:00.001-08:00

I met Mr. Solar at an environmental conference. I thought it was cute that he was drinking water out of a cup he had made in a pottery class. I didn't get his contact info, but a friend of mine did. So I got it from her and emailed him. Yeah, so I was a little bit stalker-y. But it's okay sometimes.

Mr. Solar said in an email two days later, "it was nice to meet you too. Let's get a drink or dessert sometime." I said "great, but I have people in town this weekend let's do it next week."

Got nothing back. So I gave him the benefit of the doubt, which I have been known to do and emailed him the next week saying the next weekend would be good for me. After the weekend was over Mr. Solar emails and calls saying sorry but he was in Portland; we should plan something. So I call him back. Get nothing back.

You think I would just let it go there. I mean he called AND emailed. Sigh, he must REALLY like me... No. I like humiliation I guess.

So I texted Mr. Solar a few days after Thanksgiving: "Hope your Thanksgiving was good. Am I ridiculous for continuing to bug you?"

He texts back: "No, I'm glad you did :) I'm in Vegas, let's do something after Thursday.

He calls, leaves a message. I call leave a message.

IS ALL OF THIS WORK WORTH IT?

He calls, I pick up. I can't believe it. We're actually talking. We plan a brunch date for the next day, MORE THAN A MONTH AFTER WE MET FOR THE FIRST TIME.

It's nice enough. No problem. Mr. Solar checks his phone about a bazillion times. UNDER THE TABLE. He's texting. Gawd. He's in his 30s, doesn't he know not to do that on a first date by now?

He pays though. I offer to pay tip, he says sure.

I give him a ride to REI. I drop him where he's meeting his cousin. He walks the sidewalk checking his phone.

Not worth all that work. But at least I know for sure.

I mean "I stalked your father to go out with me the first time" would have been a really great story to tell the children. Maybe that's what I was hoping for.

The one who farted

2009-10-25T02:26:00.000-07:00

I went to a show the other night and Mr. Bouncy was just all over the place. He would dance right up to me and my friend and just shake it in front of us. He smelled bad, had beer breath and bad teeth. But I thought his dancing was funny and humored him a little bit by shaking my butt a little bit with him.

He tried to do some grinding from behind, but I don't dig that. I mean really, I don't appreciate some strange man's penis pressing into my butt. Even through clothes. I just don't like it, especially if I don't like the man it's attached to.

After the show was over, I sat over that the bar hanging out while my friend talked a guy. Mr. Bouncy came over to chat. He was from the North Carolina and had just moved to the area, blah blah blah. He tried putting his hang on my back, I tried to squirm away politely.

He smelled terrible.

And then he farted.

I was done.

"I'm going to go check on my friend."

"Your friend looks like she's doing fine."

"Well I'm going to go check on her. It was nice to meet you."

I walked over to my friend who is deep in conversation, so I check out the merch table. I look over quickly and he's leaning against the bar looking very dejected. I pretend not to notice.

Smelly men are one thing, farting is another thing. A smelly farting man hitting on you is something different all together.

The one who must have thought I was hideous

2009-07-27T19:50:00.000-07:00

I honestly don’t think he thought I was hideous, but that’s what I could have thought. I mean I’ll never know. And I don’t really care.

Let just called him “Mr. Confused,” because I was looking cute that night and he must have had some crazy shit going on in his head. And calling him “Asshole” just doesn’t seem right, although it warranted. I know, I’m being very kind to this guy by giving him this name.

I met Mr. Confused on the Jewish dating website. He was a school teacher, tall, skinny and really not much to look at. But I guess he seemed nice enough.

I was volunteering to work at a screening of a film at the Jewish Community Center. I told Mr. Confused about this he said he wanted to see the movie, so the plan was to watch the movie and go out afterwards. He had also told me that he used to work at that same Jewish Community Center. This was a good sign

Something funky happened with scheduling and some people thought that the film started a whole hour later than it actually did. Mr. Confused was one of these people. I was able to watch the film and grabbed a spot in the back so I could slip out quickly and do whatever need to be done afterwards. Mr. Confused walked in about ten minutes before the film was over and randomly ended up sitting right next to me.

“Oh, hi!” I said looking at him when he sat down, immediately recognizing him from his picture.

“Hey!” He said smiling.

“You must have gotten the time wrong too, sorry about that. There was a problem with the scheduling.”

I don’t remember where the conversation went from there, it was a little awkward but no big deal. The lights came up and I had to jump up to do my job.

As I was talking to my supervisor for a second, Mr. Confused comes over.

“I’m going to take off.”

“Um, okay, well you have my number.”

He bolts.

I thought maybe he didn’t want to stay for the Q&A for a film he didn’t see. Maybe we would meet up later?

No call, no text message, no email.

Nothing.

I’m sorry, but people get away with the craziest shit in the name of dating and it pisses me off. That’s just not right. And if I were someone else, I could have thought that he just didn’t like the look of me and so he bolted. Who knows what was going on in his life at the time, I don’t care, you don’t treat people like that.

“Maybe you should pick your dates more carefully” a friend said. He’s a Jewish day school teacher? What raises red flags about that??

I gave him a full 24 hours before I sent him this email:

Dear Mr. Confused,
I obviously can't claim to know what you're looking for, but the way that you've handled the last 24 hours is not the way you're going to find it. The fact that you bailed last night with no reason and haven't even bothered to email me saying that it was nice to meet me but there's other things going on with you is pretty disrespectful and rude. I don't care if we were supposed to be on a date or not, I think it's pretty terrible that it's okay with you that you would do that to another human being. Please think before you do something like that to the next girl you try to date.

Kinky

I felt amazing. It was so good to tell someone off like that. It’s one thing to ignore someone when you haven’t even met them in person yet. But it’s another thing to meet them, not give them a chance and then run away. Not cool.

I wouldn’t have cared if he emailed me back. In fact I expected him not to.

But he wrote this email right back:

Kinky,

I'm so sorry that I didn't handle this better. I just didn't know how to express what I was feeling. I hope that I have learned something from this mistake.

Mr. Confused

At least “the one who went to the bathroom was funny.”

This was just lame: "didn't know how to express what I was feeling"? What the hell does that mean?

It only gets better and better doesn't it?

The one who made me cry

2009-07-19T22:32:00.000-07:00

Just to get it out of the way if you were wondering, it was the good kind of cry: you know, the one where someone says something so sweet to you that you cry? Not the you-hurt-my-feelings kind of cry.

And also to get it out of the way, the one who made me cry, let’s call him “Sad Lawyer”, was the reason why my ipod is now broken.

Let me explain.

I met Sad Lawyer online as I meet most of these interesting characters. He was in his last year of law school, and he hated it. This dude was a downer.

Sad Lawyer and I went to another bar to talk some more. After a couple drinks, he fessed up to being recently out of a relationship. It ended because the love of his life cheated on him. Like I said, this dude was a downer.

Somehow we got on the topic of education and the worth of each individual. I happen to believe every person in the world has some skill or talent that could be of productive use or enjoyment to the world. Sometimes individuals just don’t have the means or access to cultivate these talents. I mean how do you know you’re an amazing skier if you’ve never seen snow?

Anyway, the point is that this is a very optimistic, idealistic way to see the world. One which I suppose at the age of 29, I should have lost. I'm very proud of this part of me, it's also what keeps me dating by the way. I am a hopeless idealist and romantic at heart.

“You’re a good person aren’t you?" Sad Lawyer said. "Most of the people I know, including those older than me (he was 26 I think) don’t think that way anymore. We are all so jaded. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

That made me cry. It took a total stranger to look into me like that and say it to my face. I’m sure my mother has said something like that to me before, and maybe my friends think that about me. But hearing those words from an emotionally devastated stranger made me emotional. It was sort of embarrassing.

Given Sad Lawyers' own emotional status, it is no surprise that he didn’t call me for a second date. He was probably too embarrassed too. I've found that if I drink too much on a first date, too much information is exchanged, and second dates are rare. There's also the occasional making out, but that didn't happen on this date.

But back to the dead ipod…

I had a little too much to drink I guess that night. And the next morning I had to get up relatively early for something and was a tad hungover. Not the I-feel-terrible-sort, more like the, I’m-in-a-grumpy-daze sort. I’m sure only some of that feeling had to do with the booze.

I went to the kitchen to fill my water bottle, when it was full I put it in my purse.

“Why is your purse leaking?” My roommate asks.

What? I looked down. Shit. My purse was indeed leaking.

I was so out of it, I put the water bottle in my purse WITHOUT the top.

Oy.

Turns out that I drowned my ipod. It needs a whole new hard drive. That was several months ago and I haven’t spent the cash to get one. I work out at the gym without one.

I blame Sad Lawyer.

The one who was too drunk to remember

2009-05-06T20:41:00.000-07:00

I had become friends with the trumpet player in my band at the time. I will call him Sillyman, because, well, he was and still is, one of most of lovely, crazy, goofy people I've ever known.

Sillyman had so much silly positive energy I just could not stay away. He told terrible jokes, said bizarre things, and would get really excited about random things and dance around. But I loved being around him. He was fun and made me happy.

My friends were throwing a pirate themed party and I brought him as my date. Since I was the driver, Sillyman was free to drink as much as he liked, and boy did he... But I guess I wasn’t aware of how much he actually did have to drink.

I tried to kiss him in the car when I dropped him off. I should have known better than to make a move at that exact moment. But I did. I tried kissing Sillyman three times and each time he seemed very confused, which is why I tried three times.

A friend told me a week or so later that he had told her that he woke up in his bed and didn’t remember how he had gotten there. It was only then did I realize that he was way more intoxicated than I had thought. Great… Smart move...

I wonder if he remembers that I had tried to kiss him and just doesn’t want to bring it up, because we are still friends. But more likely, he really doesn’t remember at all and that he really was that drunk. One day I will bring it up.

Either way, we are still friends and have that agreement that if we reach 40 and are still single we would get married.

How cute.

The one who was so hot and didn't speak much english, one year later

2009-03-02T23:31:00.000-08:00

To review: I met the Israeli in Israel a couple years ago. This is what happened. In a nutshell I spent the night at his kibbutz and he couldn't keep it up after putting on a condom. So no love for Kinky.

Kinky and the Israeli keep in touch over broken English emails. Israeli goes to Central America and says he's going to come visit. I don't know what to expect.

I told him he could visit for two days. I just wasn’t really comfortable with him staying with me for more than that. I just wasn’t. I wasn’t even sure when he would be coming into town. I had a test to study for and, of course, I had to be at work. So a couple days would be all that I really wanted him around for.

He took that to mean “a few” days I guess. Which probably meant a couple weeks to an Isreali kibbutznic.

I ended up picking him up from the airport. I’m not sure why his friends didn’t pick him up. He had been traveling with them through Central America for 5 months. They were probably sick of him.

Nevertheless, My roommate and I picked him up from the airport and we went directly to a show I had already bought tickets for. I bought him an extra ticket. He smelled AWFUL. I feel really bad for the person he was sitting net to on the plane. I know they have showers in South America... wait a minute he was flying in from visiting his cousins in the States... wtf?

I picked him up, he looked good though. His hair had grown out and he was sporting a jew-fro. It was cute.

When we got to the club's bar, I asked flirtatiously, “You’re going to buy us drinks right?” Didn’t I just pick him up from the airport and pay for his ticket to get into the show. He said, of course, and bought them with no arguments. It was a good show, even though he continued to smell bad.

When we got to my house, I requested that he shower. I also had to decide where he was going to sleep: in my bed or on the couch? Due to our history, I just wasn’t sure if I wanted to go down that route again. I ended up deciding that I wanted him in my bed. And due to his “sexual” problems, I don’t even count what we did as “sex.” It lasted a very, very short amount of time. I was disappointed. He didn’t say anything.

The second night we stayed at my brother’s house to dog sit. During the day I drove him around town, showing him the sites. He didn’t seem too excited. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. He never said 'thank you', or offered to pay for anything.

That night as we were walking around with a friend, we saw two naked men just walking down the street, adorned with only shoes and cock-rings. It was hysterical. He was so embarrassed. Oh, I love watching people as they are pushed outside their comfort zone.

That night I stayed away from him in bed. I just didn’t want to go through it again. It wasn’t worth it.

Saturday morning I was feeling sweet and got up and made breakfast while he slept. He slept and slept and slept. No problem except his food got cold. When he woke up, he ate it. All he said was “You made this?” That’s it.

I showed him around town more for the rest of the day and outright requested that he pay for lunch. I didn’t have a fulltime job, I was not rolling in the cash. It was his turn to pay.

The next day I had made plans to meet up with some girlfriends of mine, his plans kept changing making me late for my friends. I was getting really angry. Who the hell did this guy think he was?

He still didn’t have much to say, especially “thank you.” And he certainly didn’t seem too excited to be in town. I was so angry at his lack of respect and consideration for me. I felt used. Frustrated, I asked him to pay me back for the ticket to the show we had seen on his first night in town.

“How much was ticket?” He asked in broken English.

“$25”

“Well I bought you a drink, so I’ll give you $15.”

Um, no. Are you fucking serious? You’re going to give me the full $25. I’ve let you stay at my house, I cook for you and drive you around town? If we were having a great time and having amazing sex that would be one thing, maybe it would be worth it. But neither of these things were occurring. Who do you think you are? My lame-ass smelly boyfriend?

Of course I didn’t say this. I just made it clear that I didn’t want him to stay at my house that Sunday night. I asked that his friends come by the house later to pick up his stuff.

That night, after spending a nice day with my girlfriends, I was sitting in the living room talking to my roommates, waiting for him to come by and pick up his stuff. I went into my room and the door leading to the outside (I live in the old garage and have my own entrance) was wide open. His stuff was gone.

He had entered my home, taken his stuff and left. No 'thank you', nothing.

Are you kidding? How fucked up is that?

At least I figured he was mad enough, or embarrassed enough that I wouldn’t be hearing from him again.

One of his friends that he had been traveling around Central America with was from the area and stuck around for several months working and saving money. I saw her and had to ask her what he had said about me.

"He was sad and he knew you were really angry at him."

Oh well, this didn't really make me feel bad. I told her about the sexual issues.

"Really?" I knew the other guys at the kibbutz tease him about that, but I didn't think it was true!

Okay, now I felt better.

I never heard from him again. Thank god.

The one who was the Perfect Gentleman

2009-02-16T22:54:00.001-08:00

I met the Perfect Gentleman on that free website, he was from the South and worked on the creative side of computer programming, to the point that he was not just your regular computer programmer guy. He was a little extra nerdy, if that was even possible.

We met at a club where his friends’ band was going to play. This was also a band he used to be in, but it seemed that he was more interested in talking to me and listening to the music (which he told me he never really liked anyway).

The Perfect Gentleman paid for the tickets and bought a round of drinks. I liked him immediately. He was cute, but had a face had a quality that can only be described as being a little squished (but it was cute). I liked his build: he wasn’t much taller than me, but was a little thick. I like them like that.

I met his friends before they went on stage, they all seemed perfectly nice, which is always a good sign. I bought another round of drinks and the Perfect Gentleman and I continued to have good, intelligent conversation about music and art and I even tried my best to understand what he does at his profession. There was chemistry, body language and grazing knees. He also had a fabulous laugh, something I personally love.

After the band was done, I suggested going to get some food since I hadn't eaten dinner. We went around the corner to a Polish restaurant and chatted more. I even broached the Israeli/Palestinian conflict, a topic he didn’t seem too excited to continue.

The Perfect Gentleman then walked me to my car, put his hands on my waist, kissed me good night (a nice quick peck on the kips), and told me that he was going to be out of town for the weekend just so I knew. I offered him a ride home, but he declined like a perfect gentleman and insisted on taking a cab home.

I couldn’t believe what a perfectly respectful first date it was. There was no pressure, I knew he liked me, I knew I liked him and he had paid for virtually everything and yet didn’t mind when I bought a round of drinks. I figured it was the Southern thing, but whatever it was, he was the Perfect Gentleman.

The weekend came and went, with no word from him. Not even an email the next day saying it was nice meeting me. By Monday evening I was starting to get antsy, so I called him and asked him out. The Perfect Gentleman seemed perfectly excited to go out again.

So the following Wednesday, exactly a week after our first date, I picked him up at the train station (after a misunderstanding of which train station he was supposed to get out at. Men: they’re not so great at following directions are they sometimes?) and took him to a good and not too expensive restaurant. We split a salad and a pizza and then went to a cool bar for some bluegrass, a game of scrabble and some drinks.

I had a great time with him. Again, the conversation was good and while we were picking out which game to play, the body chemistry was there. He laughed his hardy laugh at my jokes and I got him back on the train after midnight worried that he might miss that last one back to his house.

When I dropped him off at the train, he said he had fun and that we would talk soon. We had and awkward good bye as we turned sideways in the car to hug, I think he might have been going for a kiss but it was weird. So as he was getting out of the car, I pulled him back and laid a fat one on him. We made out for maybe a total of 30 seconds. I can’t say he was a great kisser, but he wasn’t bad either.

I drove home with a smile on my face. In recent memory I could not think of a dating experience that had gone this well. It was so normal! I do not have normal healthy dates, I just don’t.

I figured it was his turn to call and ask me out on a third date. A few days went by: nothing. A week went by: nothing. I don’t know what happened!

I mean, the only thing I can possibly think that went wrong was that I farted while we were at the bar on our second date, was that it? Are farting girls a turn off for him? Are girls that kiss him a turn off? DAMN!! Is he that much of a Perfect Gentleman? Like Rhett Butler? I mean if Scarlett had farted, would Rhett have ceased to like her?

I just can’t get this right can I?

I decided to let it go, and not call him again. I am not a stalker. I refuse to do all the work.

I did have a moment of satisfaction when I was chatting with a friend of a friend a couple weeks later who knew the Perfect Gentleman. Turns out she had his old job and was rewriting all of his code. Turns out he wasn’t much better at his job than he was at dating.

The one who was so obnoxious

2009-02-12T21:54:00.000-08:00

I met Mr. Obnoxious online. He was older than me by five or six years and worked as a bartender at private parties while he was studying to become a police officer.

The fact that he was Jewish was a nice added bonus and so I figured why not? He wasn’t necessarily my type, but you never know.

Mr. Obnoxious picked me up at my house in a double-breasted pinstripe suit, brimmed hat and bald head. He was wearing a tie with a matching handkerchief. He looked like a Jewish gangster. I was wearing jeans and insisted that I change into a skirt at least just to not feel out of place. He stated that the suit was new and wanted to break it in. No problem, it was certainly different and sorta classy.

We got into, what I call, his “penis car”: a stick shift two-seater sports car. I swear Mr. Obnoxious was going to give me whiplash before we got to the restaurant by the way he drove that thing. His voice was piercing, and I could tell from the first few minutes of this date that I didn’t like him much. The fact that he hadn’t really asked me any questions about myself from the get-go was an automatic turn off. He talked my ear off about the boat he was going to move into. Not that I don’t care about boats, I just don’t need to know all the details about this particular boat.

The restaurant was nothing special. Mr. Obnoxious had made reservations though which was thoughtful. It seemed he had taken some steps to make this date nice, which I did appreciate. I mean, no one has ever shown up to a first date in a double-breasted pinstripe suit before.

So far, I just had an idea that this guy was not for me. But when we got to the restaurant it became clear that I did not wish to spend much more time with Mr. Obnoxious.

He wanted to order a rye whisky. I don’t know enough about alcohol to know what that was. But he’s a bartender, so I’ll give him that.

“Well it’s obvious which one I’m going to get,” Mr. Obnoxious said looking at the menu, “they only have three and I own two of them.” Well, good for you.

“Oh look,” I said, “they have my favorite scotches” trying to sound somewhat cultured in that area.

“Which ones are your favorite?” Mr. Obnoxious asked (probably the first question he asked me all night.)

“Talisker and Oban,” I said.

“Oh, I figured you would say that.” (What was THAT supposed to mean?)

“Well I’ve been to the breweries”

“Aren’t they called distilleries?”

Alright, fine. It seems that this date isn’t that bad yet, I see that. But getting rather obnoxious, no?

I noticed that when I was speaking, (not that he had asked me anything, I just decided to offer up information about myself) he would start looking at the menu or something, as if he wasn’t paying attention to me. I really don't like it when people won't look you in the eye.

During one of these times when I was talking, Mr. Obnoxious interrupted me and said,

“I don’t want to sound like an asshole, but do you want to go hot tubing?”

“No,” I said. “No, I don’t want to go hot tubing.”

“Okay, that’s cool, I just didn’t want you to think I was an asshole or something. I mean, it’s not like I just want to see you naked, although that would be cool too… it’s just a nice place to talk.”

Right.

I declined dessert and getting more drinks, I just wanted him to take me home.

As I got out of the car, I wanted to make it clear that I did appreciate the nice dinner.

“See you around,” I said... DAMMIT! I panicked.

“Really, can I call you?” Asked Mr. Obnoxious.

“Um, maybe?” I said. SHIT!

I could see in his reaction that he knew I meant, NO!

He never called me, thank the powers that be.

I found out later after telling this story to a friend’s boyfriend that the only hot tubing place in the area is a naked one.

And hence, the story of the worst first date I’ve ever had, even worse than the one who went the bathroom and didn’t come back. Sure, that date was a disaster, but at least it wasn’t painful from the moment it began.

The one I was "too young" for

2008-09-06T11:12:00.000-07:00

I just got this email. One of my brother's ex (yes, one of them) wanted to set me up with a friend of her's. Jewish, single, into live shows, used to work with her at yahoo! years ago. I was excited, I've never been set up before.

Today I got this email

hi Jamie,
I got your name and email from Alice. she was singing your
praises and was trying to set us up on a date. initially i
was open to the idea, but the more i thought about it the
more i realized that the age difference is a bit too much
for me. i know they say the older you get the less
important that difference is, but for me right now it's
still a barrier.

sorry that it's breaking this way, but i hope you
understand.
have a great weekend,

He's maybe 34 at the oldest. 6 full years older than me. really? I'm too young for him? I guess I have to give him props for at least emailing me and telling my himself. I suppose I'll have to write back and thank him for that?

The one that I totally forgot about: continued

2008-05-09T17:38:00.000-07:00

I'd like to refer to the one I totally forgot about as the Lawyer Artist.

So this thing with the Lawyer Artist is getting more and more intense. What the hell am I doing?

I made him a mix CD yesterday and sent it over. Since we talk mostly about music and he likes everything from classical to Malian to alt-country. It was really fun to make and I thought that he would really appreciate it.

But listen, I kinda went over the top: IT HAD LINER NOTES! I briefly explained who the artists were or why I picked the song. CD mixes are deeply personal to me and I feel like my music is a way for others to look into my soul. I know that sounds cheesy, but it's true. I spend a lot of time and energy making them, I love to make them and I love thinking about the recipient, and it doesn't matter how well I know them.

CD mixes are my creations. They are my own personal art form. (I'll make you one if you promise to report back to me and tell me what you liked/hate)

I requested Lawyer Artist to make me one. Because you know that a CD mix is the way to a music lover's heart.

Whatever, I'll make one for anyone that asks.

He's sent me a few mp3s: some from an Algerian artist we both like and some from this samba/merengue singer, of course all in other languages.

Well, the one I got today is this band called Blackmore's Night. a song called "Wish You Were Here" and he made sure to tell me the name of the song.

But um... check this out and some of the lyrics

Wish You Were Here...
Me, oh, my country man,
Wish You Were Here...
I Wish You Were Here...
Don't you know, the snow is getting colder,
And I miss you like hell,
And I'm feeling blue...

I've got feelings for you,
Do you still feel the same?
From the first time I laid my eyes on you,
I felt joy of living,
I saw heaven in your eyes...
In your eyes...

And I miss you like hell...
And I'm feeling blue...
I miss your laugh, I miss your smile,
I miss everything about you...

etc, etc, etc...

WTF??

I'm trying not to get carried away, but it's really hard not to.

I'm having fantasies of moving, getting married, having babies and going to lots and lots of concerts with him. jesus christ.

Like I said, if this goes on, I'm going to have to go there just to see what it's like physically being there with him.

The one who was so hot and didn't speak much english, re-VISITING

2008-04-28T19:24:00.000-07:00

Let's review the one who was so hot yet didn't speak much English shall we?

Well, he's going to be in the area for the next few months. Well, remember when I said that Mr. Hottie was traveling around Central America and working his way up to the States? Well he's coming a couple months earlier than he thought.

He was supposed to be visiting family and then working there for a couple months, but it seems as though he doesn't like it there and wants to come up here.

He's staying mostly with his friends parents, but since they are in Mexico for the week, I'll be picking him up at the airport and he'll be staying at my house for a couple nights

I have no idea where he's going to sleep. But I have a feeling I'm justing going to say what the hell. We'll see.

The one who won't leave me alone, pt. 2: Firecrotch

2008-04-17T19:57:00.000-07:00

Alright, so I have to finish this one, because there certainly is more to tell.

And I'm going to try something new; instead of calling my cast of characters random names that I have chosen for them like some terrible real life tragic story from Seventeen magazine, I will call them something personifying my image or association of them. So I will call the one who won't leave me alone "Firecrotch."

Anyway, I had a conversation with Firecrotch last night and it seems that every time I talk to him now, I am overtly sarcastic. I also make fun of him to his face and I am mean. I am not a mean person. I also take my sweet time calling him back, but so does he. There is obviously something going on here.

I know that he is not worth my time, but I wonder if I put up a wall because I still have feelings for him. For a long time I really pined for him, but I don't anymore. But I still obviously still have intense emotions, and it's really, really, really annoying.

I have to see Firecrotch at a wedding in June, with his new gorgeous thin Indian doctor girlfriend, and I really want it to be a good time. I don't want to feel awkward and frustrated.

Alright, let's backup a little bit shall we? I need to fill in the blanks of the last ten years or so.

Firecrotch and I never lived in the same city except for before we met each other at camp. Soon after I met him, his Jewish family moved to Vegas to live among the many Mormans that live there. (Ironic that so many live in the vice capitol of the country isn't it?) I saw him about twice a year when he came to town to visit cousins. We would go get food, drive around, whatever. I always looked forward to seeing him.

I tried to make quasi moves on Firecrotch, like putting my legs up on his while watching movies, but it always seemed awkward for him. But I didn't really know how to do things like that, so I would try a little bit and then give up if I wasn't getting anything in response.

I do vividly remember having a conversation with him when I was about 16 about my eyes. I probably said something about how my glasses obscured them or how their color was really boring. He said something really nice like "getting lost" in them or something. I think I didn't know what to do with a comment like that. What the fuck was he trying to do to me?

Firecrotch is all about lists. How many girls he's kissed, how many countries he's been to, how many girls he's had sex with, etc. And then comparing it to mine.

At one point in college he told me that he liked to kiss girls simply to clear the air of sexual tension. But of course I was never one of those girls. He liked to tell me all about it though. And like I mentioned previously, he liked and still likes to remind me that I was his first REAL kiss. Just reminding me.

Thanks.

In my last year of college and his first year of med school he would call me at 2 in the morning, and I was okay with this. I don't even remember what we would talk about. In what world is it okay to wake a friend out of a dead sleep just to shoot the shit on a regular basis even if that person says it's okay?

I did realize that he never really told me much about the nice Jewish girl he fell in love with in college. That he kept quiet.

But Firecrotch wanted to hear all about my love life, and when I started having sex, he wanted to give me tips. Explicit ones. That made me crazy, emotionally, mentally and certainly physically. It was like the most torturous dirty talk in the history of dirty talk.

One summer we both went to Europe. I went to live in Scotland and he had a EuroRail pass that didn't go to the UK. He didn't want to come visit me because his train pass wouldn't get him there. I got pissed at him. Why wouldn't he come visit me? It was too expensive. Whatever.

Toward the middle of the summer I went to Denmark to visit a friend, and while in Copenhagen, guess who I randomly run into on the freaking street?

Yup. Firecrotch.

I start freaking out and the rest of my summer is shot as far as trying to hook up with any Scots there, especially since I didn't know how to find the one that started it all. My poor friends in Scotland had to listen to me obsess about Firecrotch and how it was so weird that I RAN INTO HIM ON THE STREETS OF COPENHAGEN. I thought it was a sign from the Gods or some crap.

Later that year back in the U.S. I saw Firecrotch and told him that I had feelings for him. It was a super big deal for me to do this. All he said was "I'm flattered but..." and that's all I needed to hear, I changed the subject. It was bad. We never talked about it again.

The next summer I went back to Scotland, and he sent me an email saying that we should go somewhere together, on a trip. I wrote back, "how can you ask me a question like that when you know how I feel about you?" I didn't hear back, AT ALL. So I emailed him later sort of apologizing. Lame. I love how somehow he got me to apologize for bringing up the fact that I had feelings for him and he was being a douche.

So I've brought up my feelings for him a couple times. It was 6 and 7 years ago though. I still talk to him. Not sure why.

Since then I've continued to see him about once or twice a year. While in med school he traveled around a lot moving to a different part of the country every time he changed rotations. I even went to New Orleans with him and some other Jews for Christmas one year including the girl he was fucking. It was awesome. I managed to have a good time though.

Firecrotch has friends, or acquaintances, all around the country. After awhile I started feeling like I was part of his harem. How many other women around the country had crushes on him? I knew of a few. This made me feel pretty horrible and pathetic the more I thought about it.

Since then I've been backing away from him, and (hopefully) obsessing less.

During the last semester of grad school, I was mad at him for some reason I can't even remember and I avoided his calls for months. I just couldn't bring myself to deal with him. This was not a confrontation I wished to have.

Finally when I did talk to Firecrotch, he asked me why I had been avoiding him, I apologized and said that I was angry with him for some stupid reason and I should have handled it better. He didn't press the subject further. Awesome, I apologized again.

I feel that there's no point in bringing this stuff up anymore. But now I feel that I just want nothing to do with him and that maybe it's that I don't want anything to do with these feelings anymore. Maybe it has nothing to do with him. He just happens to be the person that they are directed at. It has more to do with me and these bottled up emotions of being rejected by so many dudes.

But if I call him now and try to talk this out, I don't even know what I would say. The feelings go back 13 years!

I'm mad at him, but I don't even really care anymore.

I'm wondering that maybe I should force myself to talk to him about all of this just for the sake of the couple that's getting married in June. It's not going to be fun for anybody, especially for me if I can't enjoy myself because of him... But of course it will seem really fishy if I do this now because he's just gotten himself into a relationship, something that he's not had since college. He's not just fucking this girl, he's actually dating her. (Not that I really care, I don't want him anymore, I know that!)

Help! Why can't I just let this go? It's because I'm a girl dammit! And we don't readily do that.

Kinky Boot Beasts

2008-04-14T08:09:00.000-07:00

I just went back and watched the part in Yellow Submarine where The Beatles meet up with the Kinky Boot Beasts in the process of saving Ringo from the monsters at the bottom of the "ocean."

Get this: the Kinky Boot Beasts stomp up to the Yellow Submarine with the intention of smooshing it. After the Kinkys violently chase the Submarine around for a few seconds, the Yellow Submarine ejects a large boot (featured in the photo above), and stomps on one of the Kinky's toes. They scream and run away.

Does this mean that I (if in this metaphor am the Yellow Submarine) drive away all of my Kinky Boot Beasts (lovers/men/crushes/whatever) by stomping on their toes, hurting them of their egos in some way? Maybe that's why they don't stick around. Fabulous.

Maybe I should have gone back and watched this scene one more time before I started the blog!

Whatever, I like the name.

Have I mentioned that there is, what looks like, a hippie jam band by the same name? Google them!

The one that made my heart skip a beat: Addendum

2008-04-12T00:37:00.000-07:00

Oh the joys of the internet.

Guess who is now on *that* networking site. Yup: the one that made my heart skip a beat.

He wishes me love and happiness, what a sweet one.

He's now a professional singer, still living in my home town. He's got a big band. They go to Japan and places like that, they must love that he's half Asian over there. He's got an album too. He's even got a stage name, I think because the Polish one wasn't working for him.

He looks exactly the same.

I have absolutely no crush on him anymore. But I do very much want to hear a recording of him singing. Don't you?

The one that I totally forgot about

2008-04-05T12:39:00.000-07:00

The internet is a strange thing. What did people do before it? Jesus, we actually wrote with pens, looked things up in books and talked to people. What a horrible world that sounds like...

Sam found me on one of those networking websites earlier this week. I had a huge crush on him in college right around when I was "dating" the one who was painfully shy. I think I met him through is roommate who lived around the corner from me in the dorms. I've completely forgotten about him, he wasn't even on my list of people to talk about in this blog.

I thought Sam was so interesting. I've always been drawn to Renaissance Men, you know, guys that do everything: paint, play music, are ridiculously smart... Sam was one of those guys. He also grew up in Eastern Europe and Texas, so he had this hot cute accent. Oh yeah, and he's Jewish.

His dorm room was full of his paintings, all what I remember as very Italian Renaissance-esque looking portraits. I was horrified when I saw that he would paint over old paintings that he didn't like, they were all so gorgeous! He played the classical guitar, had the largest music collection I had ever seen mostly filled with classical music and classic rock and was a double major in biology and psychology. We would "rock out" to Palestrina and Simon and Garfunkel.

Physically, he had all the qualities that I usually like that my friends never understand. He was a little chubby, had a goatee and that late 90's floppy hair.

We anyway, he found me online earlier this week. He's now a freaking human rights lawyer, has lost like 40 pounds and loves to travel.

I saw that he went to grad school (not law school mind you, he's got two grad degrees including the law degree) in the city I lived in after college.

"I lived there too" I typed, "I wonder if we were there are the same time. Wouldn't it be annoying if we just missed each other?"

He responded, "I am disappointed…don't you remember meeting up at a coffee shop? I think we hung out once before you left….That's ok, it was a long time ago …I forget what I did two days ago"

I'm so embarrassed and pissed off at myself at the same time. First of all I DO vaguely remember running into him and thinking it was weird awkward or something. But that could have just been me, for all I know I could have been involved with the one who didn't know how to make up for it. I mean not only did I let this guy go while I was lonely in this city, I didn't even bother trying to be friends with him. But I guess it goes both ways.

Anyway, we emailed back and forth everyday long emails for the next few days after that, updating each other on our lives, sharing musical recommendations and youtube videos and travel plans. He remembers things about me that I'm really surprised about, like that my Dad is a lawyer.

I'm kinda freaking out about this... I mean I'm actually thinking of finding excuses to go there and see if we can meet up.

Am I that desperate? Is this real? I went out on a date last night with a boy that I think is fun and cool, but I can't stand kissing him. It's pretty horrible. And I'm also going out on a first date tonight with a guy who seems like he's a surfer-lawyer-frat boy. I don't do surfer-lawyer-frat boys! We'll see, I don't want to assume things about him before we even meet in person. I'm trying people!

Anyway, Sam didn't email me yesterday or today and I'm really hoping he does. I don't even know if he's single or straight or what? Why does my imagination get the better of me? I get so disappointed all the time. It just creates a world of it's own and runs away. It never gets bored, that's for sure.

I make myself crazy sometimes! But he just seems so perfect for me from all the way over here...

The one who won't leave me alone

2008-03-23T22:11:00.000-07:00

This entry is going to come at you in more than one installment. There’s a lot to say.

This redhead hasn’t left me alone since I met him in 1993. I was 13, he was 14.

I call him Firecrotch

Firectorch was my first kiss. Like, real kiss. With tongue. Like, my first make-out session. Both of ours actually. My memories of that kiss was the same as Harry Potter’s first kiss with Chou Chang: wet.

Firecrotch, the pain-in-the-ass, likes to remind me sometimes, that I have a soft spot for him. Just a couple words or phone calls here and there that makes me remember.

He tends to pop back up in my world every-so-often, especially when I’m not crushing hard on someone else. And if you’ve read any of the other entries in this blog, I crush a lot and I crush hard. I admit it is kind of obsessive. If I were one of these dudes and knew how hard this girl was crushing, I’d be scared. And that’s why I give these guys props when I think they know it.

Anyway, I went to an overnight camp in junior high and Firecrotch was my “boyfriend” for about two weeks. I remember the precise moment when I decided I liked him; it was on the volleyball court. I loved the combination of his strawberry-blonde jew-fro and the weird acid-washed bright blue t-shirt he was wearing. I told my friend that I like his hair.

She runs off and tells him I have a crush on him. How junior high is that?

Somehow it gets discussed that he likes me too and that he should “ask me out.” And at some point a couple days later, we were playing capture the flag and we end up alone.

“I have something to ask you” Firecrotch says.

“I know” I say.

“Will you, um, go out with me?”

“Yeah”

Granted this isn’t exactly how the conversation went, but it was something like this. We “dated” until camp was over. I kissed him good night on the cheek once probably almost a week after we started “dating” and he went “wooooo!”

We argued about the Batman and Robin cartoon that that was on tv, I had a crush on Robin (for some reason I found a cartoon character hot. See that looking at that picture up there at the top? he's totally my type, buff with glasses!)

There are a couple really cute pictures that I have of us cuddling during the after dinner song sessions. Come to think of it, I don’t know if I have any other pictures like that with any other guy, I wonder how much this says about my love life... I’ve hidden these behind other pictures. I won’t get rid of them, but I don’t want to look at them.

My brother was a CIT, a counselor-in-training for my group session. Basically he was a camper who got to go to camp for free in exchange for sitting around in the evening waiting for campers to sneak out of their cabins and more time to make out with members of the opposite sex. My brother was Firecrotch’s CIT. I think it freaked Firecrotch out a little bit. My brother liked to tease him, of course, that's an older brother's duty.

We never really “broke up.” I think it was just a camp-is-over type of thing. I called him when there were raging fires near his house. He was terrible on the phone.

We stayed friends. He came out of his shell once he got to high school. He was girl crazy. Girls loved him. We never made out again. But we would hang out whenever he was in town visiting family.

I developed a real crush on him. I never knew what to do about it. I still don't.

Part 2

The one who was neglected

2008-03-20T01:58:00.000-07:00

That would be you. I'm sorry.

I have two jobs, I'm taking a class and I'm in a band.

I don't have time to workout, watch movies, do my taxes, sleep much, get to the grocery store or go to the gym.

But I still love you and have decided to quit my second job for the above reasons.

I will write more, I still have lots more stories to tell.

Smooches.

Thanks for reading...

There's a new post up right below this one about my high school crush...

: )

The one who drove a white minivan

2008-03-20T01:39:00.000-07:00

Whenever I see a white minivan I think of Jason, my high school crush.

He was a gorgeous sandy-blonde mild-mannered boy who probably turned out to be gay. I can't be sure since nobody has heard from him. And stalking him on the internet doesn't get me very far, although I feel like I might have seen that he's a second grade teacher as of four years ago.

I did my regular thing by hiding my love for him by becoming his friend. We even hung out a few times. I thought about calling this post "the one who taught me how to properly wash my car windows" because that's what he did. I didn't know I needed to use a paper towel to get the water off the wiper with every stroke. I mean my Mom never did that, but her windshield always looked like crap.

I obsessed about when Jason would call me back, if I would get to sit next to Jason in the one class we had together and if Jason would ever in a million years see how cool I was and want to make out with me.

Of course I was the good friend and even hooked him up with Amy, a friend of mine, for prom... what a good friend I was. She was a water polo player and could kick any guys ass. Amy had a smoking hot, buff body. It was a little masculine at times. Some guys loved it, some thought it was a little scary. Jason was a swimmer, and we all know what swimmers bodies look like.

Don't get me wrong, my prom date was awesome as far as the fun-ness level goes, we danced the whole night long. But he was not as gorgeous as Jason.

Amy and Jason looked really awkward in their prom picture.

Our school paper always ran a joke issue at the end of the school year making fun of all the graduating seniors. Amy's was nominated "most likely to be a man." Jason was nominated "most likely to date Amy."

This stuff is too perfect to make up people!

The one who wears cool hats

2008-02-20T00:42:00.000-08:00

Yeah that's right, I said that in the PRESENT TENSE!!

I have a crush on the guy who leads the band I'm in through the place I work.

He's a little jew who plays the piano and accordian in a klezmer band and spent 20 years in New Orleans. He moved after Katrina.

He wears these awesome brimmed hats. I love men who work the brimmed hats.

I hear he takes off as many jewish holidays as possible.

He also might be married, I'm not sure, but I'm gonna find out.

***UPDATE***

I love the internet, it makes stalking people so easy. Especially if they are professional musicians and have record contracts. There's promo shots (good lord he was cute when he was younger), performance videos on you tube, fan photos, past and future scheduled gigs, etc...

He's not married (at least no ring to speak of), but has a daughter who's probably a little tike.

But listen to this: he told me yesterday that he just started intensive chemo because he's got arthritis in his hands! Which is why he felt super shitty the other day in rehearsal. I just thought he had a cold. Poor guy's a piano/accordian player and has arthritis in his hands! He said at least it hasn't affected his playing yet.

My brother said, wow, I can pick 'em. They're either emotionally or physically fucked up. Go me.

***UPDATE***

He's married, to a freakin' neurosurgeon! Oh well. Actually this will make rehearsal a lot more fun for me. Since he's off limits (I'm good with guys being off limits) I can relax a little more and just enjoy the eye candy. : )

The one who lied about his height

2008-02-20T00:19:00.000-08:00

Marc’s online profile said that he was 5’5” tall. I’m 5’3” on a good day, and when I wore 2” heels, I was definitely taller than him.

I know that some women are very picky about the height of the men they date. My thing is that I don’t like my man being smaller than me. And I mean this in that he can’t be super skinny, because I don’t want to feel like I’m going to crush him. I might be able to do tall and skinny, but I’d rather date someone with some girth. This is why I didn’t mind that Marc lied about his height, he was a thick guy (not fat at all) so I never felt huge hanging out with him.

The chemistry between us was evident even before we met in person. I sent him an email and even before he saw it he instant messaged me. I guess we both just really liked what we saw. (Since then he's taken down the good picture from his profile and replaced it with a really bad one, what is he trying to prove??)

For my birthday I asked my Mom to buy me a subscription to this website that I had used a few years before. I was ready to get back into it. Marc was the first person I had met on there and was excited that I might not have to do through a bunch of ho-hum dates like I had before. This guy seemed exciting!

On our first date we met at this awesome bar in a cool neighborhood that served every kind of hard liquor you could want. I noticed that the menu organized the Scotches by geographical location (which as a Scotophile, really appealed to me), and they had Scotch from the one distillery I had visited while touring Scotland. So I ordered one, and then another (but didn’t drink it all because after all, I did have to drive home).

Marc and I were getting along wonderfully. As soon as he walked in I thought he was adorable. He grinned at me the whole night. Marc walked me to my car on the way home and held my hand, but asked me if it was okay first. It was cute.

I dropped him off at his apartment and we made out for a while. He did that thing were he put his hands around my head and tugged on my hair a little bit. It was hot, but I had to kick him out of my car anyway.

We made plans for him to come out to my neighborhood a couple days later. And so he did.

For our second date I got us into this nice restaurant that my friend managed down the street from my house. She took good care of us and we got free drinks and dessert. Then we went across the street and drank some more, right through the last train back to his neck of the woods. So, well, he just had to spend the night.

This boy was so cute and sweet. The only thing I had paid for was the drinks at the bar. He wanted to wait to have sex, but that didn’t keep us from having other fun.

The next morning however was a little weird. We walked down to the main street to get coffee and to the farmers market and he just seemed tired/moody/regretful/hung-over… something! I felt a little put out, and offered to take him to the train sooner, but he insisted he was okay. He said he had fun as I dropped him off and kissed me good-bye, but I still felt that something was off.

I tried not to worry about it, but of course I did anyway.

So shoot me.

I'm a girl.

I worry.

I over analyze.

I drive myself crazy.

And blame it on him.

A day or two later when I was at my aunts house for dinner, he texts me, asking me to meet up with him and his friends. They wanted to grab a guitar and have a little bit of a sing-a-long/jam session. I told him that I was having dinner with my family and that it might be a little while until I got out of there. Then he kinda begged me to come meet them as soon as possible.

So I did.

Marc had an interesting day: his best friend had come out to him and I think he needed al little bit of emotional support. He was cool with it and still loved the guy, but it was still a little shocking. But we had a fine time singing and playing guitar, and after, I went home with him.

And it was fun.

We tried some things that I had never done before (like becoming a kinky boot beast myself!). And I guess it could have been *better*, but like I’ve said before, I’m a tough costumer and figure that by the way things were going with us, there would be plenty more opportunities for us to get more comfortable with each other.

Another thing that I was interesting to me was that in that past I’ve had problems looking guys in the eye in intimate situations. I like remember that it made me uncomfortable looking some guys in the eye when we were in bed. But I had not problem looking Marc in the eye.

I just thought he was so cute.

Anyway, the next day we slept in a little, but then he had to meet someone, so I got kicked out. And I say this in the nicest way possible. I felt weird about it, but sometimes it just feels weird the next morning and you’re not included in the day’s schedule. So I went home.

And then the real weirdness started, much like what I described in the one who stood me up on New Year’s Eve. I didn’t hear from him for like five days. Now, I knew he had a crazy job managing a swanky hotel restaurant downtown that demanded a lot of his time and energy, but I would have liked to have heard SOMETHING.

So I get a little restless, and start to get frustrated (hence the entry about the one who stood me up on New Year's Eve).
To summarize the next few weeks, he started backing off, and I think I didn’t want to admit that. So I would bug him and try to make plans, or I invited him out. He was tired. He had no energy. But he seemed to still be into me, maybe...I did stay over one more time and had to leave early in the morning.

Then his boss at his job changed his schedule so that his two days off landed right in the middle of the week and his shift was 7am-3pm. He was bummed. I think he convinced himself that his social life was over.

He told me that “he needed to figure things out” over a text. I didn’t text him back. He texted me last weekend while I was up in the mountains far far away from a cell signal. He texted me again and thought I was ignoring him. Today I emailed him and told him that I don't ignore people, I'm a better person than that. And also that he's not the only one who's having a rough time right now, I am too. He wants to meet to talk. I just want a sweater back that I left at his house.

I wonder what he wants to talk about. This is such a break from the usual pattern! Is he actually going to apologize?? If he does, and I can lay the smack down, I'll think about going out with him again.

It’s just depressing that something that hot simmered out so quickly, like in a week! And I know that there’s a serious ex-girlfriend in the recent past that Marc was living with, but I haven't hear much about that.

Maybe it was too hot and intense and he freaked.

Maybe he just really had to get laid, because no one wanted to go out with a short man. But for a little while there it seemed like we might have something more than that.

So I feel that because I’ve been treated badly, it is my right to make fun of his height, even though it didn’t bother me in the least. No wait, it’s not that I want to make fun of his height, it’s more that I want to make fun of the fact that he LIED ABOUT IT on his profile. Because you know what, I’m sure that lots of women aren’t interested in being taller than their man.

But why replace the good picture with a crappy one? I don't get it.

***UPDATE***

Just had a rather intense conversation where I listened to Marc try to explain why we haven't seen each other in a couple weeks. And you know what? I'm not sure I understand exactly what he wanted to say. Something like it got too intense (especially physically) too quickly (for him) and he got uncomfortable and then the work shit got in the way and made him depressed. We sat there in silence a few times where he was trying to form the sentences.

I think he was trying to say that he's not "breaking up with me" but he never really did say that. And maybe we could try again or something.

I told him that I honestly did know if I wanted to or not. And yes, he fucked up and I'm used to guys doing this (the backing off and making it seem like they're not interested) and while it sucks, I'll get over it. In fact, I am over it. If we had this conversation two weeks ago, it would be difference. But I know how to protect myself, I move on.

But I did stress that I appreciated this conversation and that when guys had pulled this shit in the past, I never really got to have this kind of talk.

I told him that obviously he had some stuff he had to work out and that if he wanted to call me, he could call me, if not, whatever. I just want my sweater back.

He said that I often left that duty on him, and I said 1) that's not true, you didn't call and I was the one who bugged you to go out and 2) I don't want to be the annoying girl. If you want to go out with me, you want to go out with me. If not, I'm not going to be annoying about it, even if in my head I'm going insane. He said that I wasn't annoying, and I said, well good, that means I did it right. Cause man, I could be really FUCKING annoying if I let myself. You know, like calling you over and over again and wondering if you were thinking of me one, two and three days after we had sex. You know, cause THAT would be annoying. Instead I left myself go crazy and let 5 days go by before I called him.

So he wants to give me my sweater in person. I said fine. But let's wait til next week. I really don't want to deal with him right now. I'm also going out with someone else this weekend, who I haven't made out with yet.

I think I'm going to send Marc an email saying two more things. 1) You pulled this shit right before my birthday and valentines day and that was really lame and 2) You wouldn't have wanted me to have been as annoying as I cold have been.

Email or no? He seems to care. I'm going to do it. It will make me feel better....

ok, I ended the email with:

"oh, and if someone ever calls you for a surprise make out session and you ignore it... that's a sure way to make someone feel like shit. Because that's probably one of the coolest , rarest and fun things that anyone will do, and that's just the kind of girl I am."

And damn it! I am the COOLEST, RAREST and FUN girl you'll ever meet, and if you're too stupid to notice it, then see ya fucker!

Thanks for letting me vent. Sorry if this didn't make any sense, it's good to work it out and try to see what exactly just happened...

The one who was there for me every time

2008-02-06T00:38:00.001-08:00

And that would be my little battery operated friend.

Amen sister, you can say it, go on: Amen.

Of course it has to get it's own post. How could it not?

I've had three throughout the last few years (before that I had my ways...) and two of them were gifts. Thanks to the ladies that, other than my Crosby, Stills & Nash box set that Graham Nash himself gave me for my fourteenth birthday, gave me the best present ever (you know who you are). And this is saying something because I've got some family members that spoil me rotten.

If only I could find a man that didn't find it de-masculating to use it with me. It's not my fault that I'm a tough customer!

Amen, girl. Amen.

The one who stood me up on New Year's Eve

2008-01-29T03:37:00.000-08:00

Okay, I really, really, really hate this shit. Why tell someone that you have a connection with them and then stand them up on New Year's Eve of all nights? That's just mean. What did I do to deserve that kind of treatment? And it's not like the one who when to the bathroom and didn't come back This one is worse because I was emotionally involved...

I met Darren online (for those of you that know the current situation, this is a reflection of current anxieties, not necessarily current status, but you never know, there might be a blog next week about it). He worked as a manager of a video store and lived in a studio apartment behind the park. Granted he wasn't the most ambitious among them, but whatever, on our second he looked deep into my eyes and asked "we have a connection don't we?"

I was swept up in it. I didn't know if I felt exactly what he was feeling, but I liked that prospect of someone feeling that way about me. And I liked him enough to enjoy the attention.

It could have been in a line, it could have been how he actually felt at the time. I don't know. But I do know that it was one of the most short-lived intense "relationships" I've ever had.

I understand that this happens from time to time, but I feel like this has become a pattern in my dating life:
1. I meet someone.
2. I experience really intense feelings for them.
3. We get physical pretty quickly.
4. He does something that hurts me or bugs me.
5. I call him out on it.
6. I never hear from him again.
7. I don't really know why and it takes awhile for me to accept that I will not be hearing from him.

It's often that one of these steps might be left out. We might not get physical, I might not call him out on something he did, because sometimes they disappear before I'm able to. Sometimes they don't even do anything wrong, they just disappear, and I'm left feeling that I did something wrong, even though I know I didn't.

But the end is always the same: I'm left waiting for a phone call or an email that never comes. Because of this I prefer being dumped, and while that's never fun either, at least I'm not left wondering. I get the closure to a "relationship" that happened so fast that sometimes I feel like it never happened at all. And otherwise, waiting is just a damn waste of my time.

Anyway, back to Darren, he got me into bed on the second or third date. I could regret this, but I decided to do it, and I stand by my decisions in life. I don't regret them, especially when it comes to feeling alive in a moment. I certainly could have said 'no,' but when I like a guy, it's really hard to say 'no,' and, like I said, I don't regret wanting to act on my feelings. I'm not good at that. I'm a bit of a heathen that way.

My mom once told me, in a very shocking conversation (because I view my mother is quite a prude: she once asked me what it was like to have sex wearing a condom, because she never had!!! I did not answer this question), that I should not jump into bed so quickly. You know me, I'm a slut! Such a dirty slut! You know you are when you're under-sexed mother calls you one!

But, and here's where the story gets super awesome, while Darren and I were having sex (which I don't remember being that awesome), the condom came loose (cause I've never had sex without one, Mom!) and came off without either of us noticing. Wait! You say, "guys should notice that!" Well this one didn't, and I surly didn't.

Well Darren didn't seem to be too bothered by this, and I didn't want to freak out right there in front of him. We might have had a little chat and that was it, it got uncomfortable and we changed the subject.

What sucked even more is that this happened right before Christmas, so Plan Parenthood wasn't open for three days or so, and I wanted to get the morning after pill just in case. I had to wait 72 hours. It was a pretty intense three days.

Darren didn't seem to mind though. He was working overtime because of the holiday season and I didn't see him.

You'd think that that would be enough for me to forget about him, but no. I figured that maybe it was just too awkward and he was just being a guy who gets squimish about anything related to the female reproductive system. Don't know why I would have chosen to have a guy around like that, but hey...

We did though make plans to spend New Year's Eve together though, and I was hoping to ask him to pay for half of the pill that I eventually bought (that shit ain't cheap).

But the motherfucker stood me up. I spent the evening at a couple of parties with some friends, I wasn't alone thank god, and he never got in touch with me.

I was pissed, I was really pissed.

I left for home on January 1st, the next day, and eventually got in touch with him on the phone and told him off. I remember the conversation well. I was in the Modern Art Museum, but not in the galleries, in the lobby. I have a little bit of class!

"I don't deal well with flakes and people that are unreliable, I experienced that too much in high school and I don't stand for it anymore."

Darren apologized. Turns out the loser was at a friends house and was too high AND drunk to get his ass off the couch, or even to send me a text message or voice mail explaining his condition.

For some reason I didn't even dump him there, I was going to give him another chance.

I get back to town a week or so later and call him.

I don't hear back.

I maybe called him a week later, no response.

The idiot probably did me a favor actually, now that I'm thinking about how pathetic I was being. I wonder if the dating gods believe that I subject myself to people treating me like crap, so they keep these "relationships" short so that I don't get too involved before I really get hurt. It's better this way.

You'd think that from this story I have super low self-esteem, but you know what? When you have intense feelings for someone and you want to see where the feelings might go, it's easy to give someone a second chance, and a third, and maybe a fourth if they're still around.

What really bugs me about this is that Darren figured that because we had only been dating for a few weeks, he didn't need to "break up" with me and that disappearing was a justified action. Or he was just a pussy, which I think would be more likely, except that others have disappeared on me as well.

I guess most men just are pussies.

I've actually wondered if I should actually take a listen to my mom's advice and not give it up so quickly. But this girl gets starved for attention! I'm not gonna lie! And when it's in my face and I like what's in my face (this part is important, I'm picky!) it's hard to say "no!" In fact, it usually doesn't even occur to me to say 'no.'

So who knows what to do?

addendum to the one who didn't know how to make up for it

2008-01-27T22:10:00.001-08:00

I found out today that the one who didn't know how to make up for it lost his virginity to me. (That makes at least two.) I thought there was a girl before me, but I guess he either lied to me at the time or I heard what I wanted to hear.

He said to me, "Yeah remember how bad it was the first time?" And I'm like, "which time?" I didn't really say that, I just kinda smiled uncomfortably...

He also told me that I was dating him during a very dark period in his life. Really?

Lucky me.

The one who had an open marriage

2008-01-21T13:12:00.000-08:00

Yes, I was the other woman, or An-other woman. But I didn't want to be a home wrecker.

I met Paul at the airport when an ice storm kept me from making the last leg of my trip. Not knowing how long we would be held up, a group of us decided to band together and figure out alternate ways of getting home.

First four of us tried to get a rental car. But decided that it might not be a good idea because of the ice. So we were directed to the train, which would only take a little bit longer than driving, and would be safer and cheaper.

Paul was a normal looking guy who was coming back from a job interview. He had been in the Navy and was very outright flirty (and a little dirty). It was pretty insane. I was very embarrassed and flattered all at the same time.

He honestly explained to me that he had an open marriage with his wife. They could sleep with whomever they wanted as long as they told the other person and kept the details to a minimum.

Paul had only used this freedom only once before while his wife engaged in extramarital sex quite frequently. He said it didn't bother him. As long as it didn't detract from their relationship, it was fine.

I was intrigued, I had never been involved in anything like that before. Paul had a lot of sexual energy which I thought was hot and he was totally digging me. I believed him (my friends were skeptical) and figured as long as it was all part of the arrangement, I wasn't doing anything I would later regret. And, well, I could use some amazing sex. Couldn't we all? I was okay with the fact that it might only be that: sex.

So we made out on the train a little and Paul was an amazing kisser. I was excited to see what the future might have in store.

We emailed back and forth a few days and he ended up coming over during one day. I'm pretty sure he thought that I was this wild thing that had all of this kinky sex. In reality, I haven't, and am still learning the basics of what I like and what really works for me.

He asked me all these questions and I didn't know how to answer them, and I was kinda embarrassed that I couldn't answer them. Like, "can you have multiple orgasms?" I mean I don't even necessarily even know how to answer "what's your favorite position?" I know it's sad, and hopefully I'll know the answers to these questions. Just blame it on the one who didn't know how to make up for it (who's going to be in town soon and wants to see me, what do we think about that?? Please comment.)

And being with Paul for a couple hours in the middle of the day was not the time or place for me to spill my guts on the emotional and sexual disappointments of my previous sexual relationships. So I just got quite and said we could do whatever he wanted.

It was certainly fun, but what I really didn't like about it was that after he would finish, he would just hop off of me and head to the bathroom to clean up. No cuddling, no kissing.

I'm done and I'm dirty! Need to clean up. Thanks, I'll call you later when I have some time between classes and feeling horny!

Talk about feeling weird. Not cheap, but it was definitely strange.

I was not upset that I would never exclusively have him, it never entered my mind since it was never a possibility.

He came over one other time after that. And I'm not super proud of this, but he told his wife about me and she got jealous and didn't want to have an open marriage anymore. It came out that she had been using the arrangement as a way to make him jealous, which I assume didn't work. But he told her that he liked me and wanted to see it out. For some reason I didn't kick him out of my apartment right then and there. We had sex again, I felt the same way and didn't want to see him anymore after that. It certainly wasn't worth it.

I then started seeing the one who had been celibate for five years and Paul helped me through a momentary freak out that I had over him.

Paul and his wife moved away. He had been offered several jobs, a couple in really cool cities, but she wanted to be closer to her family and ended up in some awful suburban town in the middle of nowhere.

I definitely don't regret the encounter, but I did learn about myself that sex just for the sake of sex was really not fulfilling to me at all.

This is why I've happily made a decision to stay away from situations like that. There's nothing wrong with sex for the sake of sex, but maybe it's just not for me. It also means that I only had sex once in the year after that.

The one who made my heart skip a beat

2008-01-17T22:16:00.000-08:00

I know it sounds totally cliche and silly, but that's the only way I really know how to explain it.

Joey would smile at me as he passed by and I would get that crazy nervous feeling in my stomach, one that I would later feel when climbing the stairs to my dorm room and the one who was painfully shy. There was one time where we were talking and because he was looking right in my eyes, I literally could not speak. I was physically unable to so.

Joey was a year ahead of me and I first remember having a crush on him in in 7th grade. I was lucky enough to be one of the nine little ones to be cast in Anything Goes, the middle school musical. I was also one of the lucky ones to have a line. It was "I'm not a sinner!" Ironic, don't you think?

In the spring of my first year in junior high, I tried out for the softball team and auditioned for the musical. I didn't get onto the team but got cast in the musical, that was the end of sports for me. My fat ass and I would squeeze into costumes rather than do laps around the field. And I was happier for it.

Anyway, Joey had one of the main roles and had one of the most beautiful voices I had ever heard. Perhaps my earliest memory of him, and quite possibly the moment I started crushing hard, was when I witnessed a cartwheel attempt in the gym in front of everybody. He was probably trying to show off for the disproportionate percentage of girls in the room. He fell flat on his ass. It was one of our first cast meetings and it was all over for me.

Oh, how I loved the boy who landed on his ass.

I did my normal thing of trying to be his friend and get frustrated when he disappointed me.

I hated any girl who had a crush on him and was jealous of any girl that was a sincere friend of his. I remember hating this one girl with a passion, but she was a spoiled rotten bitch that had no sense of reality... I'm obviously over it. I'm sure she's a nice girl these days...

What was so bizarre about my crush on Joey is that he wasn't that good looking. Now my high school crush, he was the most beautiful boy I've ever been interested in, but Joey? Not really. But with my already established track record (remember the one who reminded us of Gonzo from fifth grade?), that's not a surprise.

I'm going to make a generalization now, one about children who are of mixed race parents, especially those that are half Caucasian and have Asian. They are usually very good looking, right? Really beautiful features and skin? Joey kinda got the wrong hald of the chromosomes. He had his Dad's bulbous Polish nose and he was bow-legged. But I thought he was dreamy, for years. I judge not by the book's cover. It must have been that voice, and that he had a sweet soul.

I think it might have all ended for me when I professed my love for him at the end of 8th grade. He would move to another campus and I wouldn't see him regularly again for another year, so I figured what the hell?

So I wrote a note, and gave it to my friend and she gave it to Joey.

No response.

Not a surprise.

What was I expecting?

There were rumors in high school that he was gay, or that all he wanted to do was get married and have as many babies as possible. He also became freakishly OCD. He continued to sing though, and I loved every minute of it. I think he's trying to be a jazz singer these days.

I ran into Joey and a high school friend of his at a bar when I was home from college once. I thought Joey was so boring t talk to. I had a much better time talking to his friend, who told me about his love for the Harry Potter books and persuaded me to read them for the first time.

There have been very few moments that I can recall in my live where I felt the way Joey's presence made me feel. And I'm still looking for that.

The one who really just needed to get laid

2008-01-10T22:03:00.000-08:00

There was this guy named Glenn in one of my grad school bands, that as far as I'm concerned, just dripped sex. There was just so much sexual energy between us, it was ridiculous.

He had gorgeous long dark curly hair, not so different than the one who had great hair, had an awesome body (and wore t-shirts that showed it off), had a sweet disposition and would just smile at me. I'm sure I did the same back.

Man oh man, that year my band was overflowing with hotties; Thursday nights was three hours of eye-candy pleasure. The tattooed Eastern religion student, the flakey yet talented guitarist, the hot laid back lesbian keyboardist/saxophonist, the silly and conceited vocalist, and Glenn, the sexually frustrated percussionist.

There's not much to tell here but I would stare. I would. It was bad.

I learned at one point from a mutual friend that Glenn had recently gotten out of a bad relationship and was probably still very much healing from it. He had made out with a female friend of mine who would become the one and only girl I have ever referred to as my girlfriend, and she said that he was very sexually uptight because of the ex-girlfriend.

Well, we kinda skirted around actually hanging out, and one night we were supposed to have a drink and he just invited me over instead. And I'm like, "okay."

We had some beers, had sex and I went home early in the morning. Simple as that. Sometimes it just happens like that.

It wasn't so great unfortunately, but we both needed it, BADLY. Glenn met the love of his life soon after that. So I figure it was good that the sexual tension between us had been broken. There are times that it just needs to happen. And I didn't have to see him much after that, and when I did, it was fine.

Sometimes it's just been too long since the last time you got naked with someone, right?

The one who started my Scottish love affair

2008-01-07T16:39:00.000-08:00

Who knows if this is the one that got away? Who knows if I would have been just as disappointed with this one as I have been with all the rest. *Sniff* I guess I'll never know.

There's not much to tell about Jon. My friend and I had just arrived in New Zealand and we were staying at a hostel in Christchurch, a small gorgeous city on the northeast side of the south island. We were just hanging out and chatting with two guys in the evening.

I remember it being relatively dark in the room cause the tv was on, but there was this Scottish guy named Jon and we just clicked. I was in love with the way he talked. He was sweet and funny. I don't even remember what we talked about. I think he had blonde hair that was thinning and wore John Lennon style glasses

I would have liked to see him again, but regrettably my friend and I were on a tight schedule to see the country and we had a bus to catch the next morning.

I told him when I would be back in a week or so since I had to take a ferry from Christchurch to get to the northern island and that I'd booked a bed in the same hostel for when we got back, he should come and find me.

So I go on my bus trip, see the Island, go sky-diving, cave spelunking, walk on a glacier, win a karaoke contest, swim with dolphins and whatever marvelous things New Zealand has to offer, all the while keeping my lovely Scotsman tucked in the back of my mind. For some reason we did not exchange emails, I don't know why.

I get back to Christchurch two weeks later, and there's no sign of him. I'm on my own at this point because my friend has stayed behind somewhere to do her own thing. I'm all bummed and disappointed, a familiar feeling that comes from getting my hopes up, and am sorry that I won't get a chance to talk to him again and have no idea where he is.

My friend gets to the hostel a couple days later after I've moved on by then and tells me that there's a note from Jon at the front desk of the hostel with my name on it. It says that he dropped by and the name of the place he's moved to HE HAD GOTTEN THE DAY WRONG and had been a couple days too late!

It made me very sad *sniff.*

I somehow had his Scotland address either from the note left at the hostel or from meeting him the first time. I think I wrote him a letter at some point, but never heard back.

I am grateful to him for starting my love affair with Scotland. Fell in love I tell you. I ended up Living there for two summers in a row a couple years later.

Even though it was a couple years later, I had quasi-fantasies about running into him. I never did get to the point of stalking him, fortunately, I think I had lost the address by then.

But I learned that a Scottish accent could make even a balding man sexy.

The one who had a girl's name

2007-12-29T09:04:00.007-08:00

In grad school I went on a lot of dates. ALOT. I started making a list once. That list helps me with this blog a bunch, especially since many of these dates were only first dates and I can't remember a damn thing about them.

I went online dating crazy. Crazy I tell you! It was a great way for me to get out of the house, meet someone new, and hopefully do something fun. But there's this strange first date syndrome I fell into and didn't know what to do about.

The first date syndrome: I only really had a couple bad dates: there was the one who pissed me off, and the infamous one who went to the bathroom and never came back . I went out with a lot of nice interesting people. But because I met them online, I didn't know if there would be any chemistry, and usually there wasn't. So there would be no second date. And that was because neither one of us would call the other. It's not like we didn't have a good time or good conversation, there was just no, you know, spark. I enjoyed it for what it was and just moved on.

So I went on a lot of first dates.

I don't regret this, but sometimes wonder if I should I have given these guys another chance? If I ever did get a call for a second date, I usually took it, unless it was a for a very good reason. And even if I didn't have that feeling, I would usually give them another chance. If they liked me enough to ask me out again, I'd usually give it a go. But if there's no spark, there's no spark.

But after a first or second date, if they didn't want to see me again, and I felt no dying urge to get on the phone and ask them out, that was it. Onto the next one!

But the one I think about when I recall this slew of first dates only, is this guy named Lindsay. I remember him as being cute and nice. He had a girl's name, lived with his two brothers, drove this awesome 1970s woody truck with the really cool side paneling and took me bar hopping in a city that I was somewhat new to.

We met at a favorite place of mine, with local history, lots of cool old pictures on the walls and a fun staff. Then he took me to a new hipster bar on the east side where the neighborhood was being gentrified. And then we finished off the evening across the street from governmental buildings where there was a 24 hour session going on. There was a huge tv monitor set up in the bar so that when government officials came in to grab a drink, they wouldn't miss anything. It was hysterical.

Whenever think about Lindsay, I wonder if we should have at least become friends. But so it goes.

If there's no spark, there's just no spark.

The one who had been dancing all night

2007-12-25T15:01:00.000-08:00

It’s been awhile since I’ve blogged about steamy romance, and this one’s gonna be a little longer than normal. But here goes…

I was on a choir trip in college that toured through England, France, Belgium and Holland for about two weeks. We got to sing in amazing spaces like Chartres Cathedral in France. It was a fantastic time and an incredibly amazing opportunity. One of the perks of traveling through Europe is, of course, the European men that you might come in contact with. And since the group I was traveling with was compromised of women only, any attention and/or distraction we could get from the opposite sex was welcomed.

In my experience, I’ve found that traveling with large groups of people can be rather exhausting. Nerves and patience become rather sensitive because you just can’t get away from someone if they’re bothering you and attitudes can get ugly. At least my attitude can get ugly.

Traveling with a group of all women is different from traveling with a group that includes men. When you’re traveling with men, at least there is the possibility of flirting, or watching the boy you like flirt with someone else (stay tuned for, "the one who my friends thought was an unattractive douche") or be witness whatever scandal that might occur from male and female hormones interacting with each other.

Other possible tensions arise simply from specific personalities clashing with one another, whether or not they are based on romantic or sexual circumstances, and not getting a break. Of course some of these possible situations do not provide a positive and healthy environment, sometimes quite the opposite, but they at least do make for a lively one. Traveling alone is great, but it can get boring.

Traveling with a large group of only women takes away the sexual tensions (unless there are at least two lesbians or bi-curious ladies along) and just leaves the silly, stupid and annoying drama that occurs when women spend too much time together.

I’ve never considered myself a girly-girl and tend to stay away from women who seem to fall into this category. I’ve found that I tend to make friends with edgy, dorky, intelligent women who don’t get overly excited by all things makeup, shoes, hair product and clothes.

So a small group of women (mostly altos, interestingly enough) found ourselves to be the gals who sat in the back of the bus. Ironically when I was on a bus tour with men, I was among the same category of women, but we sat in the front of the bus. What’s up with that?

I mention the dynamics of traveling with all women because you need to understand why it is so amusing for me to compare my experience to some of those I overheard from these more frivolous girly-girls. Let’s call them Sopranos. And yes, I am generalizing. These were nice girls, very sweet, but I had no real interest in becoming lifelong friends with them or swapping makeout stories on the way to Brussels, like:

“Oh, we met this good looking Frenchman last night who bought us all drinks and promised to meet up with us in the next town.”

or

“Did you kiss him? I can’t believe you KISSED him!”

or

“That gorgeous Italian really wanted my email but I wouldn’t give it to him! I mean what’s the point?”

Jeeeeeeeez, how BORING. WHO CARES?? Maybe I was just jealous, it’s certainly possible.

So us Altos would hang in the back of the bus feeling like the high school outcasts that just couldn’t be bothered with these silly Sopranos. And, like, the front of the bus is for teacher’s pets or something.

One of my favorite memories from this trip was at a bar in Holland where one of the specials of the night was an “Orgasm.” I, new to this whole drinking thing (you know, being under-aged and all), asked the bartender “what is an orgasm?” which I realized was the wrong wording for the question because he grabbed my wrist and said “Come, I show you!” HA! Silly Dutchman. So cute!

But I’ve not gotten to the crux of the story, the one who had been dancing all night. So here goes:

On our last night in London, my friend and I found our way into a dingy club that we had gotten a flier for, advertising cheap drinks and cheap admission for ladies. There was hardly anyone there that night and in typical clubbing fashion, the music was terrible. But we had paid to get in, and we really didn’t want to wander around looking for something else considering we didn’t exactly know where we were anyway. So we got our drink and dance on and ended up having a darn-tootin’ good time.

I met this little Irishman named Sean. He was your typical light haired bloke, keen on showing a cute American bird a good time (sorry, but my British vocab was dying to be used just there). He bought me I-have-no-idea-how-many Mike’s Hard Lemonades (don’t make fun! That drink was new to me at that point! Didn’t matter what country I was in!) My friend met a guy too, a cute curly haired English one.

I don’t know how it happened, but Sean invited us ALL back to his house and he and the English guy didn’t even know each other, or so it seemed. I figured that since I was with my friend, it would be fine. We were meant to catch a plane to Amsterdam in the morning, but we would be able to take a cab back to the hotel from Sean’s house and we would totally be fine.

Sean rented a room above the Irish pub he worked at and we all piled onto his bed, turned off the lights and put a movie on, I think it was, umm…I think, maybe… you know what? I have no freakin’ idea what the movie was, cause it took no time for us to get, uh, distracted...

My friend and the English bloke left Sean’s room and I assume found a couch in the hallway, leaving us alone to get up to our own debauchery. At this point I was still very new to all of this, you know, intimacy with men thing, especially the taking clothes off bit. I was VERY new to this oral sex thing, I had never done either form of it and asked Sean if he would. Well, he did, and honestly it was pretty horrible. And in typical first time fashion, I didn’t really know what or how to tell him to do it any better. But since he at least made an effort, I figured I would offer to return the favor.

He said, “No, thanks.”

Seriously?

Even now, years later, I’m still amazed by this. I mean, and I’m going to put this bluntly, WHO SAYS ‘NO’ to a blow job??? Who!!??

His reason?

“I’ve been dancing all night and you just don’t wanna go down there.”

How freaking decent is that?

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

It’s not like I wasn’t fumbling around down there anyway. Even though I had little to compare it to, I was already aware of Sean’s size and the fact that it did kinda curve to the right. So it’s not like he was ashamed of it or something. He was just concerned about his “swamp crouch” and how gross it might be to really get down there.

Incredible.

Anyway, in the morning he puts the three of us in a cab, gives me his address (not email) and cash for the cab. (Why do I meet the decent ones in other countries??)

My friend and I get back to the hotel, pack our stuff and get on the bus in just enough time. No problem.

We get on the bus and I’m looking at all these girls, beaming with what I thought at the time to be the best secret in the whole world. You know that morning-after-hookup-glow? I love it. I love feeling scandalous. It’s invigorating.

I just sat there smiling as the Sopranos told the newest round of foreign men stories.

It was a long time before I got to engage in the afore mentioned sex act but was incredibly excited to have made out with a cute boy with a hot accent in another country. I think you’ve learned that is something I take pride in.

I think I might have sent Sean a postcard just for shits and giggles, but never heard back. Didn’t expect to.

But one thing I can credit Sean for is jump-starting my fascination with Irish boys. They seem to like me, I don’t know why.

Eat your heart out Sopranos!

The one who said “This isn’t a date” on our first date

2007-12-20T21:46:00.000-08:00

Two new blog entries cause I've been slacking lately...

Jon said that he really liked what I had written on my Friendster profile. I think I might have answered the “who I want to meet” section with something brilliant like, “someone who knows who they are even if they don’t know what they want to do with themselves.” This is perfectly acceptable for someone right out of college. You know, when you know what you like to do and that you want to do something really meaningful with your life, but have no idea what that is yet.

Jon had recently lost about 50 pounds and even though I’ve never done that (I wouldn’t look like me anymore) I have an idea of what havoc that brings into your head. I’d imagine it’s similar for men and women, but still quite different. I think it’s something you never really get used to, I know my dad still has the ghost of a fat little kid sitting on his shoulder most of the time.

Anyway, I was pretty new to this online dating thing, but Jon had done some online dating before. I know this because he told me, right after I show up to dinner. He’s sitting there at the table with a friend, a girl as a matter of fact, he was sitting at the table with a girl, a girl that was down right cute!

Awesome.

It was a little awkward, of course, not knowing what the hell was going on. There’s nothing better than sitting at a table with two people that know each other really well that spend a good amount of time talking amongst themselves about people and things you don’t know anything about.

A few minutes into dinner, she says something about us being on a “date.” And Jon says flat out “this isn’t a date, dates come with too much pressure.”

Ooooohhhhhh, I see now.

He’s a pussy. Got it.

So we’re on a non-date. I know sometimes this blog gets compared to Sex in the City but this “non-date” thing is right out of an episode where Carrie meets a cute boy in glasses sitting on a fountain in Central Park.

So anyway, Jon must have thought I wasn’t worth kicking to the curb, though, because we ended up going to back to his house without the cute friend to pick up his old crippled car. Two or three years out of college, Jon lived with his parents, which unfortunately is all too normal. He had a pretty cool part time job with digital radio, but got paid crap. I think this all explains why he connected with the “not knowing what to do with yourself” statement.

I honestly can’t remember what else we did on our first “non-date.” I feel like we may have gone to see a show at the indie club down the street. But it really doesn’t matter because we never went on a non-date again. Although we kept in touch over email and sometimes ran into each other at shows.

Turns out we live in the same city again and I’ve seen him out a couple times. And when he does see me he always seems to have someone better to talk to and hang out with, and he’s still single! Ha! We’ve talked about meeting up again at a club we both like, but something else always comes up.

Last time I saw Jon he was on a blind date. We were both in line for an invitation only party (I know, swanky right?) and my friend and I were able to get in, but he couldn't, even though he was supposedly on the list too. He called me later to apologize for being so stand-offish with me which I certainly appreciated.

I’ve come to realize that he’s kind of a social climber with probably bruised self-esteem. He definitely has his sweet moments.

But, like I said, he’s also a pussy.

The one who had great hair

2007-12-20T21:42:00.000-08:00

Ben had a gorgeous head of curly brown hair. It was so cute. It would change lengths, but would always stay long enough to enjoy the curl. He was a grad student when I was an undergrad. I met him at a party after I had been drinking and flat out told him that we had to be friends. I didn’t know he had a long-distance relationship with his college girlfriend.

Okay, you know what? I hate that shit. HATE IT. My heart always sinks a little bit when someone mentions their “girlfriend,” strangely, even when I’m not attracted to them.

So Ben and I became great friends. He was bizarre and eccentric in a way only a grad student can be.

For example, he told me that when he gets really into working on a project, he likes to have a cigarette in his mouth. Ben wouldn’t smoke the cigarette, it would just hang from his lower lip. And I guess it was always the same damn cigarette. I don’t know, maybe it was an attitude thing. The cigarette probably just made him feel like a badass. It is an interesting visual image don’t you think? Like something out of a movie about Jackson Pollack…

Oh, he always wore the same striped scarf too. Even when it wasn’t that cold. I mean, why couldn’t the girlfriend buy him another one? It was weird. I saw a photo of him a year or two after we parted ways and he was wearing it. And he still had the same girlfriend.

Ben also loooooved Marilyn Manson. Alot. I would tease him about it. My best friend in high school loved Manson, and she was twisted and disturbed. So I chose to ignore that interest of Ben's.

Anyway, back to the girlfriend, she pissed me off, have I mentioned that? And I only met her once. When Ben and I would hang out, his stupid girlfriend would call him on the cell, and he would freaking talk to her! No, “hey I’m out with a friend, can I call you when I get home?” And never would he just let it ring, oh no, never. I don’t remember specifically saying anything to him, but I feel like I did tell him at some point how rude he was when he did that.

Later in our friendship, he started calling me around 12am or later, and I would just let it ring or pick it up and ask him if he was drunk. Once I asked him to stop calling me because it made me feel uncomfortable, like he was booty calling me or something. He got all defensive and hung up. I ran into him in the record store a few days later and everything was cool. What a friendship!

Once when he was over hanging out he said to me, “you know how we talk about who we’d like to make out with and how it just takes guts to just do it? Well I’d like to make out with you sometime.”

Well I must have been in shock, because we certainly did not make out that night and he went on home. But I did think I might have kissed him goodbye on the lips on his way out like the stupid way I kissed the one who was painfully shy, and he didn’t do a damn thing.

But Ben did explain to me that over a year before, when my housemates and I had a party and I met The one who got high off NyQuil, Ben had just found out that his girlfriend had kissed a friend of theirs. He was depressed and pissed off and he came over to my party to kiss me in retaliation.

And I was preoccupied with stupid NyQuil man.

If I had known that Ben was on a mission, I would have gladly fulfilled the mission. But how was I supposed to know? I was distracted by a cute new boy! One without a girlfriend (and now we know why). Although I was probably missing a few obvious signs, like how he would try to make me jealous by telling me about hanging out with other girls and mentioning that I had been “couch hopping” all night at our party. But what is a gal to do when it’s her party and there’s several cute boys around? Well if she had known that one that she already had a crush on was a sure thing, then it might have turned out a little differently.

So going back to the time Ben tells me that he wants to make out with me…

He calls me on a Sunday and I’m on my way to a rehearsal for a show that’s opening in two weeks. He says “I want you to come over and hang out.” I had never been to his house. EVER. I explain to him that I can’t during the times that he’s asking about, and he’s all weird and blah blah blah…

So I stop by on the way over anyway, which was probably a bad idea, and certainly a waste of time. His roommate is there and there’s a weirdness and I leave for rehearsal. He never asks me to come over again. I wonder if he was pissed off at his stupid girlfriend again.

As a side note, there was an offer of a threesome with him and the girlfriend at some point. And I remember not saying ‘no.’ I had never been in one (and still haven’t) and didn't want to make it out of the question. Which made meeting her even more bizarre, since I’m positive she knew exactly who I was. There were pleasantries, but nothing more than that.

Never got to really kiss Ben, which is too bad, because he was a really passionate person. And I’m sure it would have translated over.

Looking back on this whole roller coaster of a relationship, I realize how toxic it was. And it was a good thing that even though we were emotionally involved, it didn't get physical.

Too bad, I would have loved to have that hair all to myself...

The one who had his own secret symbol

2007-12-08T14:43:00.005-08:00

You know, like Prince, or the-artist-formally-known-as-Prince. Whatever...

Except I gave Will this symbol. And I did it while Prince was still Prince, way before the conflict with his record label even started.

Will was my first real crush, right after the week long crush I had on Mr. Idiot the-one-who-reminded-us-of-Gonzo. He was sweet, thin, and had blonde hair and blue eyes. I know, right? Totally NOT my type. But I was 11, I was still figuring out what my type even was.

I think I came up with the symbol by writing his name over and over again and realizing that I could combine the letters to make two super letters. It came out looking something like "Bb." And rather than writing his name all over my notebooks for everyone to see, I could crush hard by writing the symbol and not look like the scary stalker little girl I actually was.

I did ridiculous things like cutting up photographs with him in them and just keeping the bit that he was in. I think I actually carried a photo of him around with me in my wallet for awhile. Right, I know, SCARY!!

I'm sure Will knew that I had a huge, scary crush on him, since I had a handful of obnoxious friends that probably told him. But he really was a good sport about it and was always nice to me. He was a quiet kid anyway and never really got in anyone's face about anything.

I have this hysterical awesome picture of Will and I "slow dancing" at a classmate's party in sixth grade. I'm wearing tapered jeans, an oversized U2 t-shirt and keds. Oh yeah, I looked hot. I've got my hands on his shoulders, he's got his hands on my waist and there's about three miles between us. It's adorable.

I'm pretty sure it took all the courage in me to ask him to dance. It still takes the same amount of courage to hit on guys that I have crushes on these days, which is why I don't do it often. (I'm trying my best to do it more, and trying to get the nerve up to do it soon actually.)

Will moved to Iowa or Montana or some faraway state like that and no one has heard from him. I don't even think I'd recognize him if I saw him.

I wonder if he realizes that he was lucky enough to have his own kick-ass sign like Prince??

The one who paid my $250 parking ticket late

2007-12-03T21:49:00.000-08:00

Cory was adorable. A bit of a whiny, worrying, emo kid, but adorable. And he was about 9 years older than me.

I was an intern where he worked and was therefore off limits, as far as having a relationship went anyway. This didn't stop him from making comments that were blatant come-ons, but I was still supposedly off the table. He would even tell me this. "Our time will come if it's supposed to come" Cory would say, or something stupid like that. I think he had just gotten out of a serious on-and-off relationship that left him a little wounded. Timing IS everything ain't it.

Cory would come to where I was working and just kinda hang around. He was totally a grown up version of that dorky, four-eyed, over-eager boy in high school that you'd get annoyed with but know he really does mean well.

He made it clear to me that he liked me and that whatever kind of relationship I was up for (as long it wasn't a REAL relationship) would be fine with him: friends, lovers, mortal enemies, whatever.

I remember going over to his place a couple times, he wanted to show off his original Fela Kuti LP set and watch the Ramone's movie Rock'n'Roll High School. He said that I reminded him off the main character Riff who is madly in love with Joey Ramone and brings rock and roll to take over the oppressive school administration. It's so 1979.

So one time while I'm over there, it starts snowing, like hardcore blizzarding. So OF COURSE I can't go home. He invited me to stay, and even though there is talk of him sleeping on the couch, not surprisingly, I ended up in his bed and we had some fun. Nothing serious, or incredibly memorable, but it happened. Although I do remember that he was more attentive than most.

I get up the next morning and my car has been towed. Since it had snowed the night before, The city needed to plow the street that I parked on and gave me a freaking $250 dollar ticket! I tell Cory about it and he offers to pay it since his parents just sent him a generous check. So I give him the ticket and he pays it, supposedly.

A few weeks later I get a letter from the city saying that since they got the payment late, there is a late fee which needs to be paid. And that fee is DOUBLE the original ticket. I'm not about to pay another $250, I'm an intern, I work for free. And I'm definitely not about to ask Cory for another check, I felt weird enough about him paying the first time.

I had to ask Cory if he had indeed paid the ticket late. Did he have a copy of the check so that we could prove it to the city? No. Did he have the receipt? No. I could have gotten pissed at is lack of organization, or at his lack of responsibility if he did pay it late. But like I said, he did pay for it. He didn't have to. I couldn't get mad.

So I take it up with the city. I go to the courthouse, I fill out appeal forms. All I remember about that was that by the time I moved away months later, the matter hadn't really been officially settled. I just never heard about it again.

I saw Cory about three years later and had dinner with him and a friend of mine that he didn't know. He tells me about his new 23 year old girlfriend who he has a long distance relationship with (barf!) and casually brings up in front of my other friend that he and I had had a "tryst" once before. What the hell? I just looked at him and said "do we really need to talk about this here?" and dropped it.

I'm still trying to figure out if $250 was worth all of that.

The one who had been celibate for five years

2007-11-27T17:54:00.000-08:00

Alex was a little weird, he was, I'll admit that. He was a DJ on the late night shift. And because he was often the only one in the station, he basically got paid to talk to himself for 5 hours each evening, 5 days a week. The one time my friends met him at a party, they thought he talked loud and was a little obnoxious. But that's because he wasn't used to talking to REAL people. And I liked him, and that's all that matters, right?

This station was one of the five in the country not owned by Rupert Murdoch, but he could still only play the same mediocre pre-approved tunes over, and over, and over again. And because of this new-fangled technology, he could pre-record all of his spots and simply man the computer the rest of the night and make sure it didn't explode.

I met Alex online and we emailed back and forth for several weeks before we met each other. He was crazy witty, very funny, flirtatious and had an endless amount of interesting information in his head. I later found out that he had film and political science degrees, to me the perfect combination of serious issues and pop culture topics. It was never boring hanging out with him. And I liked telling people that I was dating a radio DJ. To me Alex was a fricken' local celebrity! He even had stalker stories! And I made sure that I didn't become one of these stalkers.

Sometime early on in the dating, he told me that he had gotten published on a website for funny hook-up stories, you know, kind of like what I'm doing now... Actually this was more of a "how not to hook up" website; date stories that ended horribly, also like what I'm doing here.

Alex's story was something about going out with a co-worker on new year's, getting ridiculously trashed, trying to hook up, but because of the shear amount of alcohol he had ingested, the little man was down for the count. He also throws into this story that it had been almost five years since the last time he had sex, FIVE YEARS.

I was sort of confused, was this his way of telling me that he was out of practice? Or had he not realized that information was in there. Whatever is was, I realized that there might be something horribly wrong with this man. My friends even warned me: "GET AWAY WHILE YOU CAN! This is not normal for a 30 year old man!"

The other problem with this dating situation is that I only got to see Alex about once every week or two. We had completely opposite schedules, I worked during the day, he worked at night and it worked out that I would go out of town one weekend, he would go out of town another weekend, he got sick...whatever, I never got to see him.

I'm a patient person. I could wait. No problem.

So when things finally got to the point where sex was a possibility, the poor boy must have been so nervous that he had, well *problems,* not much unlike The one who was so hot and didn't speak much English .

I'm a patient person. I can wait till he was comfortable.

I could tell after a little while that he was kinda pulling away a little bit too. His emails became less frequent (at first we emailed once a day) and I would be the one to bug him to make plans. But of course when we did hang out things seemed all good. And, once again, I was getting ready to leave town for good, so I just wanted this to last until I left.

I also wanted to be sure to have a hook up-buddy if I back in town if I needed one. So I wanted to end things on good terms. I even had him promise me some nookie when I did come back to visit. But it never works out for me like that. Other people get hook-up buddies in other cities, but not me!

We really only had sex once. ONLY ONCE!! And by then the little man had no problems, in fact the "little" man was not so "little." It was darn right huge! But for me sex is never really amazing the first time. You have have to get used to each other, you know? So I was looking forward to more.

But more never came.

I left town. I heard from him a couple times. He didn't email me back once. Then I called him and he never called back.

So that was it.

My luck. Just my luck.

Oh, the potential. It was so sad.

I could listen to his show online right now if I wanted, but that would be like stalking him. I'm no stalker! And anyway, my new computer doesn't have the right plug in...

The one who had no neck, poor thing

2007-11-25T01:37:00.000-08:00

And yes, I say "poor thing," you can hide a small penis, a drug addiction, low self-esteem or a hairy back (most of the time), but you can't hide a no-neck. You just can't. It's just always not there.

Justin was a really sweet guy, and good friend in Australia when I lived there. But not only did I simply not find him attractive, he, like the one who didn't know how to get over it (a.k.a. the one with the tiny penis) had developed a hardness about him. At age 20 he had given in to a life of bitterness and pessimism toward the world. But he I think meant well and was trying to deal with what life had handed to him in the only way he knew how. And I don't think he got a whole lot of attention from the opposite sex. Even for those who could see through the surface, there was another layer that was hard to get through. Justin wasn't ready to let them in.

Australians are drinkers. And like the best of them, Justin was a drinker. And when he drank, he would come on pretty strong. He would try to kiss me, hug me, and confess his feeling in a number of ways. He once confessed his feelings for me to someone sitting on the couch next him as if I wasn't also sitting in the room within earshot. And I'm sorry, yes, Justin had no neck, but this drunkeness was not attractive. It just wasn't.

I hung out with him and his friends quite a bit and I began to develop little crushes on his friends. Justin would get angry in his drunken states when his friends would flirt with me. He would tell them off and give them attitude, it was embarrassing.

I started taking guitar lessons with his teacher and that increased his feelings for me. I probably should have stopped hanging out with him all together, or at least had a talk with him about it, but I didn't. But, like a few of the guys that have had feelings for me, it was only when he was drinking that I had to be worried about what he would say or do to affect my comfort level. When he was sober, it all was fine.

As I'm writing this I feel like such a hypocrite since I tend to be at my boldest when I'm drinking and I'm certainly not alone in this. I feel like many of us get into trouble when we drink and our inhibitions are down. But what I don't do is repeatedly put someone in an awkward position when I'm drinking. I think this is pretty inconsiderate and disrespectful.

That being said, he was an interesting person and a pretty good friend when he wasn't drinking. We would talk politics and Monty Python. And he did, of course, have a cute Aussie accent, and we know how I feel about accents. He even offered to give me a ride to the airport when I flew back to the States, which was pretty long drive. I remember dreading the good-bye hug, but the moment passed and it was all over.

I keep tabs on him on one of those socialization networking websites and I really hope that the poor kid is getting more comfortable in his own skin.

I say, if you've got a no-neck, work it! Make it one of your finer qualities!

The one who we used to chase

2007-11-20T23:47:00.000-08:00

No kidding.

We literally used to chase Richard around the play yard. I was in kindergarden.

He had one of those adorable bowl cuts of totally straight blonde hair. Us girls would chase him and corner him, I remember once in the little playhouse, and plant kisses on him.

If I remember correctly, he was a pretty good sport about it.

I wonder what that did to him in the long run...he could be a total player, or completely traumatized. Who knows?

I still feel like I'm chasing boys around the school yard sometimes, although I've recently gotten really tired of it. I wonder why I had the guts back then to plant a wet one on a prey after trapping it. I was probably more ballsy at four than I am over twenty years later.

The one who didn't like cigarettes

2007-11-17T11:51:00.000-08:00

David didn't like girls that smoked cigerettes. Even though I was smoking a beedee (a Mexican cigerette) or a clove, or something like that, I wish I had known that this was a huge turn off for him. I would have saved my one-smoke-of- the-month moment for another time. I'm not a smoker, but I like to partake from time to time.

David was a gorgeous Irish guy who was on the same Australian student exchange program. He lived in Boston with his mom while he was going to Harvard. We studied at the same university in Sydney for a semester and had a lecture together called "Australia and America in the '60s." He was in my smaller discussion class once a week and I would try my hardest not to stare. But he looked at me once from across the room and smiled, I melted. I was smitten.

I love the Irish accent. The Irish can't pronounce the "th" sound, so they say things like "tree tirty" and "tousand." I have a thing for the Irish and it seems they like me.

Possibly on my first real date ever, we went to see a silly British comedy at this cute theater near the unversity where they sell a combo of a ticket and "meal" from the concession stand (which he paid for): a drink, a candy bar and some popcorn. After that, we found this awesome cafe near my house that had a Louie Armstong mural, Beatles postcards all over the walls and boardgames to play! We played battleship, and I had myself a merry time chatting up a storm and, I guess, at some point smoking something. But I don't even remember what is was. And, I guess, I didn't ask him if it was alright if I smoked something. So rude!! I'm never rude! well, almost never...

He excused himself when we were done, since he had a scheduled phone conversation with his mom (which was probably a lie). So I let him go and went down to my favorite spot on the rocks over the beach to watch a lightning storm. I remember wanting to call David so I could invite him down there with me. But I didn't have my phone on me, which is good since I didn't know that he had already made his decision about whether he wanted to go on a second date or not.

I saw him after that and he hardly gave me the time of day, it was pretty painful. I didn't get it. We had a blast on our date, or at least I did.

I later found out from a drunk roommate, who was also in our class, that he had told her he didn't like me. Well, by then it was obvious.

It wasn't until four years later when I randomly ran into him on the east coast Chinatown Bus that the reason why he didn't want a second date was because I had smoked something that night. It was weird because as we were talking about it I kinda remembered smoking something, but still doesn't seem to make sense. Why would I be smoking Mexican cigerettes in Australia? Is my memory getting different parts of my life mixed up? Was David making up the whole cigerettes thing? Why would he do that four years later?

I certainly don't smoke many cigerettes anymore. And I know that there are people who find people that smoke them absolutely disgusting. I just never knew I would be one of them.

The one who managed a magician

2007-11-13T23:30:00.000-08:00

It's like in the movie American Pie when Jason Biggs' character wakes up alone after losing his virginity to Alyson Hannigan; he's all excited that someone's used him for sex. That's sort of how I felt when I woke up alone after hooking up with Phil, the magician manager.

Phil was a friend of a friend of a friend, and we all went out drinking one night during the summer after I graduated college. Usually on nights like these I'm feeling good for a little while but then get bored of the people I don't know and hate the bars we're at and all the stupid drunk people in them.

But in this case I was feeling sassy! Well, sassy or just really drunk. I think we went to a couple crappy bars near campus and then ended up at a house party. I was drinking Mike's Hard Lemonades, I used to love that stuff.

I decided that I really liked Phil, he had a gorgeous body, he was interesting (manages a magician!! when do you meet someone like that?? I know, I find strange things sexy) and I wanted him to come home with me. And my inhibitions were down enough to let him know I wanted him to come home with me, which meant I had had a few too many. I don't normally just invite boys home with me. I don't, really, I don't.

For some reason we didn't want to tell our friends know he was coming over, so we concocted a lie: instead of driving the hour home, he was going to crash in his car for a little while, sober up, and then drive back. I have no idea why we couldn't just tell our friends that he was going to sleep at my house. But that's what happened. It all made sense at the time.

This was the year I lived with 11 people in a co-operative living community. I invited Phil in and we hung out in the kitchen for a little while probably to have a late night snack. I explained the living situation to him and that there were several other people in the house, so try not to wake them up!

We had some fun, he was pretty good in the sack. There was no sex however, which makes me seem a little less trampy in this story. I remember him getting up a some point and putting on clothes as it was getting light outside, but in my half-waking stuper I figured that he was just going to the bathroom, and fell back asleep.

I woke up hours later by myself, and had my Jason Biggs a.k.a. Jim Levenstein moment. And I was a bit proud of myself and didn't feel too bad about it. Anyways, I had already graduated and was moving away in a month or (I feel that this might be a pattern for me?), so who cares that I was never going to see him again!

I went down the street to a friends house for a birthday brunch and returned back to the house in the early afternoon. I was chatting with a couple housemates in the kitchen when one picked up something off the kitchen counter and asks, "What's this?"

Phil left his card on the kitchen counter I shared with ELEVEN other people!!! He knew this. I did happen to have my own room, he slept in it!! Why didn't he just leave the card in my room? I didn't find the card until the next afternoon, so it was possible that a housemate might have gone and moved it and I never would have seen it.

What I think is so funny is that this means that on his way out the door at 6am in the morning, Phil stopped by the kitchen to do whatever and leave his card. Was it an afterthought? Was he too lazy to go back upstairs or afraid that if he came back in he would wake me up?

I saved the card because I thought it was so damn hysterical. On it, the card has his magician friends' name in huge letters and Phil's name in tiny print underneath, which is why it took me a second to figure out the card was his. And not only that, but the contact information on the card is the business' information! So if I had emailed or called him (which I didn't), what would I have said? "Hi Phil, this is Kinky, the girl you hooked up with and then bailed on! wanna hang out?" No. I don't think that's an email or phone call I wanted to make.

I eventually checked out this magician guy's website. He does that super cheesy shit with confetti, a silly looking 80s tux and bad synthesized dramatic music.

I wonder where Phil is now? I sometimes think about if he really did want me to call him. Does he feel bad because he thinks I used him and never called him? Maybe he had his own American Pie moment.

The one who made me a Beatles mix tape

2007-11-11T16:40:00.001-08:00

This is the boy who is responsible for my initial love of The Beatles.

In 8th grade I was friends with this group of nerdy indie rock boys. I realise in retrospect that I should have dated at least half of them at some point since they were cute, sweet, smart, funny and dorky, totally my type! But at the time I was too shy to do anything about it. And so were they. And anyway, I had a crush on the boy with the beautiful singing voice that made my heart skip a beat whenever he talked to me or looked in my general direction. So I was too distracted to see these boys as potentials. Even when it was totally obvious.

Matt loved The Beatles, LOVED them. I told him that I didn't know where to start with them since there were so many albums. So he made me a Beatles mix tape that I listened to up until last year when I got a car that sadly didn't have a tape player. It's a great tape. I miss it. It's sitting in a box in storage somewhere.

I hooked him up with a friend of mine, which I stupidly managed to do several times in high school. I realised in college when I was hanging out with the same group of boys over a holiday that I always kinda liked him. I also noticed that he had really bad breath, so maybe it wasn't a bad move afterall.

The one who didn't know how to make up for it

2007-11-06T17:25:00.001-08:00

The longest relationship I've ever had was four months long. I'm not super proud of this fact, especially considering it really should have lasted less than one month. I met Adam at a Purim party and he liked me immediately because I joked that it was really scary being in a room full of desperately single Jews. I met some really bizarre people that night.

Adam asked me what I was going to do the next day, and when I said I didn't know, he surprised me with "well you're hanging out with me!"

It only took a week or so before he asked me if he could call me his girlfriend.

Our relationship only should have lasted another two weeks after that. But I was leaving town in four months for grad school and figured, "Why the hell not?"

Well here's why not, and to put it bluntly, because there's no other way to put it, the man had a unfortunately tiny penis.

Really tiny.

Like once I asked if it was still in. Really. All he said was "Well THAT'S not a good thing to hear." Um, oops.

And even more unfortunately, he didn't know how to "make up" for it. Which I put up with, because I was leaving, and hey, I've got electronics to make up for that.

But unfortunately He had developed a bitterness toward life because of his size I think. He was pretty moody. And even though his mom has recently died of lung cancer, he smoked. Not enough to make it an issue for me, but he did smoke regularly. He also LOVED pool and poker; two games I couldn't fully get behind. He had a cool job in the video editing world and complained about it constantly. I think he still works there, and I dated him almost five years ago.

Not that he was all bad, he liked cooking, he was an EXCELLENT kisser (this should never go unappreciated, because there are some god-awful kissers out there, I've kissed many of them), he liked going to shows and movies, he didn't mind sitting around doing nothing when the time called for it and had good taste in music (and we know how I feel about that).

My rationale was that I was leaving in four months, I wasn't getting too involved, he was usually good company except when it was "that time of the month for men," and I didn't have that many friends in the area (and he was better than nothing). I still stand by that descision. A couple of my friends got really mad at me for this, and my family thought he was weird, but as you know I like them weird...

When I did confront him with the "making-up-for-it" issue he claimed that he just didn't "like" doing it and defensively asked "would this be something that you would break up with me over?"

I said "no, I wouldn't, but other women might. And I'm telling you for you're own good and for the future, you're going to have to learn to like it!" He didn't like that answer. At my brother's suggestion, I didn't go near the "your penis is small" conversation. I thought that was wise. Wherever would I get with that comment?

When we finally did part ways, he gave me a mix CD called "Love Songs" with all these old indie rock emo-esque tunes like "Bohemian Like You" by the Dandy Warhols and "El Scorcho" by Weezer. I didn't quite know what to do, was Adam in love with me? I wasn't going to ask. I just let it go.

I was kind of a bitch to him after that. He would call every now and then checking up on me in grad school, sometimes mentioning that he wanted to come visit. I once made the mistake of telling him that I would be back in his area but ended up freaking out and cancelling on him at the last minute over email. I haven't spoken to him since.

The one who was my boyfriend when I was 4

2007-11-02T17:46:00.002-07:00

I think our families met at family camp. My brother and Jared's dad met on the playground and it was love at first sight. Our mothers have a very sisterly relationship where one makes the other crazy but always forgives. Our mothers also figured that since they each had a child the same age, those children should hang out.

And hang out we did.

We watched lots of movies together, I still think of Jared whenever I see Back to the Future, it's just something built into my brain. Jared IS Marty McFly.

I remember showering with Jared when I was 4. I looked down and thought, "what's that?" I'm sure he thought the same thing too.

We went to high school together and even though we ran in completely different circles, we still hung out at family functions. Our mothers bought an ad in our senior yearbook with the two of us in the bathtub together. It was great! Not mortifying at all Mom, thanks a lot!

We had sleepovers. I think we would kiss good night, but I couldn't be sure.

I do remember that Jared snored a bit though, and I'm a light sleeper, even back then. And I could never sleep well in strange places. I know that at least once I called my Dad and had him come pick me up in the middle of the night. I was pretty embarrassed by that. I would never do that again: leave a guys house before he woke up, but it would happen to me twenty years later (The one who managed a musician)! Maybe it was karma...

And I know I have pictures somewhere with Jared modeling some of my clothes, maybe it was in junior high? I'm to saving these just in case I have blackmailing needs in the future.

I still see Jared and his "little" brother at my parents house for holidays. They have become perfect specimen of men: tall (like 6'4"), tan (they love to surf), muscular (they work out like crazy), and damn good looking. Not only that, but they are super smart too, Jared is a doctor, a GOOD doctor that's already published and went to Senegal to volunteer at an orphanage for a summer! (he got typhoid, but that's another story), and the younger brother wants to get a business degree. They're a Jewish mother's dream right?

Every time I seem them it kinda blows me away, and sadly, they are more like my brothers or cousins than just two good looking guys. So I could never look at them that way. They're way too damn tall for me anyway.

The one who I wished was a boy

2007-10-29T18:55:00.000-07:00

You know you're not a lesbian when you think a girl is really hot, but wish is a man.

So I gave it a try several times: dating girls. I would be a good lesbian! I'm much less intimidated by women, I can charm them, get their number and be sweet. Around guys I say stupid things or nothing at all figuring they're all a bunch of wankers anyway.

Angela was this gorgeous German lesbian. I met her when my band was playing at a pizza joint. She was this totally hot gal, messy short hair, good skin, meat on her bones and had this deep voice. The German accent made her even hotter and gayer. I don't know why, but it did. I love accents I guess.

We met eyes from across the room, but I didn't know if actually happened or if it was just a random eye contact thing that happens with strangers. I'm sure this happens all the time with people, but I'm oblivious because I don't trust it. But somehow we started talking and we exchanged emails claiming she wanted to hear the band again. My band really sucked, so I assumed she was trying to pick me up!

She was really into Native American religion, once a week she would go to a sweat lodge and she even started doing vision quests. Angela also went to pow-wows whenever there was one around. She worked with patients who where healing from brain injuries and studying to be an art therapist. This girl was interesting and cool. But she was also one of those self-righteous people that told me that drinking Diet Coke is really bad for me. Thanks, I know!

Anyway, other than meeting for coffee (and a Diet Coke) briefly, my only date with Angela was a party at her artistic friend's house. She showed up looking all cute with her hair in a faux hawk, a striped polo shirt, corduroy pants and converse sneakers. I was thinking, "man, she looks awesome, but I wish she was a guy!"

After the party, which was super fun by the way, we made out a little. When I had my hands around her back, I hated that she was wearing a bra! And it wasn't because I wanted her to take it off. It was like, "oh yeah, I'm making out with a girl! damn."

Afterwards, she tried to get me to go out with her again, but I was really busy with grad school. She told me that "I believe everything happens for a reason. if you want to hang out with me you will." And I'm thinking, "cool, I don't need to explain shit to this one!"

I think that was my last attempt at dating women. I'm not saying I won't try again, I'm just saying that maybe I'm not into butch lesbians so much. Maybe I should try girls that dress like girls.

The one who got high off NyQuil

2007-10-27T01:07:00.001-07:00

I'm not kidding.

Mike didn't come to one of my house parties in college because he was TOO HIGH FROM DRINKING TOO MUCH NYQUIL!!! What? We had our own keg, full with regular alcohol, what's wrong with Rolling Rock? Not strong enough for you?

Wow, can I pick 'em... why did I like this boy? Oh yeah, he loved The Beatles, had worked for the British Parliament and loved British Indie rock, which I think is a good reason to like someone. Really, I do. One night he played the guitar and sang to me. I'm kind of a sucker for that. He had good CD collection and went to shows. I'm a music whore, what can I say?

I met Mr. NyQuil Drinker at another house party, and that night passed up a wonderful opportunity to makeout with the one with great hair in a weak moment. DAMN! I'm sure that's one thing I'll regret on my death bed.

We were friends, kinda, when we lived in the same city after college. He started going bald at the age of 24. I laughed. Too much NyQuil?

****As a side note, I thought it was interesting that many a googler has found this post by looking up "NyQuil High" or something like that. It must be trendy like sniffing glue...

The one who loved Led Zeppelin

2007-10-24T19:42:00.000-07:00

He was my 23rd birthday present.

I worked with Ron for about a year and I thought he was adorable. He was a short, but not too skinny, funny, cute, lover of music, especially Led Zeppelin, and was a total flirt. But of course, he had a super hot Phillipino girlfriend.

But they eventually broke up.

We bonded over Zeppelin. He gave me copies of some of the many Zeppelin CD's he had including a couple of those really cool "Influences of" they made now featuring Muddy Waters and old British folk music tunes. He even overdubbed 2001: A Space Oydssey with Zeppelin music, I think we were stoned when we watched it. It was one of the coolest things I had ever seen, it was like playing Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon while watching The Wizard of Oz. He said he would make me a copy.

We had a good makeout session after that, which made my actions on my 23rd birthday understandable.

I had my 23rd birthday celebration at a martini bar and got just completely wasted. Everyone kept buying me expensive and exotically flavored drinks that I would never order myself.

There are pictures of me from that night hugging my friends in pure glee, my eyes are totally glazed over. I'm in total bliss.

Someone took me home and Ron got out of the car to give me a good night hug and I drunkenly said,

"Aren't you coming in?" and he just looked at me and responded,
"You're horny aren't you?"
"It's my birthday!" (This was the only thing I could come up with?)

So we're making out on my bed and my roommate is making out with her quasi-boyfriend on her bed. My roommate and I shared a room in the attic of a large house, the room was kinda an "L" shape," so I couldn't see her bed from where I slept, although this doesn't make the situation any less bizarre, but hey, it was college and we were drunk. Very drunk.

At some point we convinced the boys to do a little striptease for us. It was pretty awesome, I have not had the pleasure of anyone since entertaining me with a striptease. Ron got totally into it, my roommates' boy was a little embarrassed. At some point, I just jumped Ron cause he's just so damn cute.

He later tells me that we can't have sex because I'm just too good of a friend. Which was absolutely fine with me since I was still a virgin. It is funny though that we could do all sorts of other things, but actual sex was out of the question.

We stayed friends (unfortunately without benefits from them on) until I moved away and we then sorta lost touch.

He randomly called me last month wanting to know if he could enter my name in the competition to win tickets to the Led Zeppelin reunion concert in London in honor of late, great Ahmet Ertegun, the Producer from Atlantic records who discovered and signed them. He said that if I won, I had to take him. Sure Ron, sure.

I'm still waiting for that Zeppelin/Space Oydssey DVD.

The one who reminded us of Gonzo

2007-10-18T22:52:00.000-07:00

I have no idea why I even liked him, but we where 11! Why do you have a crush on anybody when you're 11? For some reason he reminded me and my friends of Gonzo, not quite sure why. Maybe it had something to do with the nose? That's certainly not why I liked him though, I know I have weird taste, but looking like Gonzo is not something I look for in men. I had a crush on him for about a week, right before my real first crush ("the one that had his own symbol" to come later) that lasted several years.

I also went to college with him and would see him around every so often. His friend asked me to their bizarre frat formal (stay tune for "the one with the weird arm"). He later told me that when he would go home to visit his parents, he would drink and drive after being out in the bars, I mean what other choice do you have if you want to go to a bar!?

He's a lawyer now.

Glad I never dated him. Even when I was 11.

The one who was painfully shy

2007-10-16T17:39:00.000-07:00

Dormcest. I've been told to avoid it, but only after the fact.

I lived on a co-ed floor my freshman year of college with a bunch of art, music and engineering students. It was a bizarre combination, but it seemed to work out well. We were all a little dorky, awkward, creative and comfortable staying in on a Friday night.

Two doors down was this adorable sophomore named Micah, he was from a very rural part of the state. He told me once that there was so little to do in his hometown, high school students either drank a lot or watched TV a lot. He was the kid who had no friends and watched TV. Micah was super quiet and shy.

We had these Ugly Betty moments, you know where Betty and Henry see each other and can't stop smiling? It was pretty cute. We would listen to music and watch TV, I remember he liked U2 as much as I did. I would get that feeling in my stomach every time I got to the top floor of the stairwell or got out of the elevator. It was pretty obvious that he liked me, and I'm usually incredibly oblivious to these things. I think my stupid compulsive liar of a roommate might have just come out and told him I liked him, I'm not sure. I've tried to block her out.

Finally one day I dragged him out to the stairwell and had some awkward little talk with him about how I liked him and I knew he liked me too. I don't think we kissed since we were both way to junior high about the whole thing. Micah and I did get to hang out on Halloween though. We ended up going to a haunted house where they wanted us all to hold hands as they led us through the "scary" rooms. All I kept thinking was that this was a great idea, get someone to make us hold hands, that's all we needed, someone to force us to hold hands. We kept holding hands as we went home. How freaking junior high. This was my first year of COLLEGE remember.

He was an architecture student and his department worked them hard. Lots of hours building models in the studio, Micah wasn't around much. And when he was, he was still SUPER shy around me. I was like, okay, we already know that we both like each other, why are you still tiptoeing around me? I'm sick of making all the moves!! About two weeks after "the talk" in the stairwell, I was in his room and there was this weird energy between us. He says something about not having time for a girlfriend at the moment and I'm like "fine, you're lame anyway."

For the rest of the school year, we kinda avoided each other and I still got that feeling in my stomach every time I got to the top of the stairwell or got out of the elevator.

The one who was so hot and didn't speak much english

2007-10-14T22:33:00.002-07:00

You would usually see this is as every man's fantasy, right? A hot blonde Swedish woman who speaks broken English, like Ulla in The Producers, and is just fine with putting out.

I met Reuven the evening before my birthday while I was in Israel at a hot springs near his kibbutz. Something told me that I wanted to talk to him, maybe the sulfur fumes had gotten to my head. But, he was a young, wet, good-looking Israeli. They make them hot over there I tell you! We start talking and he invites me to meet his two American friends and have a cigarette, which by the way, was a special kibbutz brand that is strong enough to make a non-smoker feel like you've just taken a hit of marijuana. nice.

I was feeling giddy and bold and invited them back to where we were staying for pre-birthday celebrations of beer, vodka and juice and hookas. I didn't think he would show up, but he did! But only for 20 minutes or so before his friend needed to leave for some I-not-feeling-so-good reason. I was sad that I didn't get a picture with this hottie. But I was glad to have "pulled" a nice young man, as the British would say.

Even though I was super hung over the next morning and puked all over the parking lot of a Golan Heights military fort (a totally different story) I had a wonderful birthday and a sweet Valentines day, which is a day after my birthday. Reuven kept sending me text messages in his horribly broken english like "Happy Valletimes Day sweety."

He invites me to come up to visit a week later. My cousins encourage it. I feel weird about getting on a three hour bus ride for a booty call! But I do.

This man is hot, and he knows it, people told him this when he was in the army. But since he lives on a kibbutz near his family, he doesn't get out much. He works in the kibbutz greenhouse with his plant "babies," which I'm sure added to the romantic fantasies of this lazy American city gal.

We watch Friends and The Simpsons and he laughs at all of the stupid jokes that a foreigner would enjoy, like the fart jokes. We make out, go to a local bar 20 minutes down the road, take funny pictures, we sing in the car to Joe Cocker (who they all LOVE over there) and I mostly talk to his American friend. We get back to his little room and make out under the large poster of the half-naked women on the wall.

As you will soon learn, I seem to attract men with sexual problems that the ladies in Sex in the City dump boyfriends for. This hot Israeli can't keep it up after a condom has been placed on his member, but I'm happy to make out all night. The next morning, he goes off to work and I go back to Tel Aviv.

I go back a week later, for more of the same. But this time just the two of us go the bar on the "mighty" Jordan River, where people from all over the world come to get baptized. And we don't have much to talk about since there's this language barrier. We go back to his room nonetheless and try again, the same thing happens.

Whatever, it's fine, no threat of having Jewish babies for me at this juncture.

Reuven sends me emails sometimes. He asked for a picture of me and wants to come visit me in the United States. He wants me to come travel with him in Central America. I'm happy to have him stay when he comes, but we'll see about Honduras and Beliz. Is this part of the fantasy? Are you supposed to get emails months after? But he's sooo hot!

His emails are hysterical and adorable, they go something like this:

hey girl how you doing? i had some problems with my
internet and now i can send you an e-mail.  so what
are you doing in these days? are you working or
something like this?

One of the best parts about all of this whole encounter is that before I left his place the second time, he gave me this silly fake Hawaiian leis he had lying around. I found this so funny on so many levels:

1) The "I got laid" joke is always funny!
2) I didn't get laid.
3) I said "I got laid" out loud and laughed in front of him.
4) He didn't get it when I said it.

classic.

The one who went to the bathroom and never came back

2007-10-14T00:38:00.000-07:00

Might as well start this off with a bang!

I do a lot of online dating. It's an easy way for me to avoid my fear of talking to cute boys that I think are out of my league. If they've read my profile, seen my pictures, and they still want to go out with me, the hard part is out of the way. It's just the actual chemistry that might be absent, but that's another story.

I met Colin online, on one of those "online dating for smart people" websites, how pretentious. We planned to meet at a bar and then go see a band I had found on myspace and was curious about. Turns out this guys is 32, grown an unemployed beard, and now that I think back on it, probably completely stoned. Not that there's anything wrong with these things, but let's just say this dude was not a winner. Conversation is fine, not amazing, but not awkward. His phone rings, he let's it go to voice mail, which I thought was classy. We've been there for about an hour, and decide to go to the club, but first he's got to go to the bathroom, and off he goes.

You know that feeling when you're out with someone, doesn't matter if it's a date or you're out with your grandmother, and they leave you at the table while they pee? It's weird right? So I wait, I watch the group of people laugh and giggle to my right, I chat with the waitress when she asks me if I want another drink. Wow, Colin has been in there for awhile... Did he fall in? Is he puking from an allergic reaction? Is he having a Ewan McGregor trainspotting moment in the loo?

"Hey, excuse me," I say to a nice looking guy that just came from where the bathrooms are, "was there someone in the bathroom just now?" "Um yea, I think there was someone talking on the phone in the stall" Hmm, interesting, maybe he really needed to call that person back...

I give it another few minutes and get another drink.

This is weird. It's been 20 minutes... I'm embarrassed now to say that I even waited that long. How long would you have stayed?

I ask another guy to see if anyone is in the bathroom? "No one in there." "Thanks anyway."

I talk to the waitress and tell her what's going on, she can't believe it. I tell her that I'm leaving and if the guy comes back, tell him that I left and that he's a big douche bag.

I feel a little BAD about leaving. What if he was on a really important phone call with his manic depressive mother around the side of the bar? What if he's puking in the street? He could have at least excused himself! I should NOT feel bad, it's not like he was super hot or anything either, the man is an unemployed stoner for gods sake!

I get home, I send him a rude email... why not?

"That was a very inconsiderate rude thing to do, please do not contact me ever again."

It felt good! He didn't write back trying to explain himself, and now I have a wonderfully horrible dating story to tell my friends...

A few months later, I get an email from him on the same dating website. He says "hi, you're interesting, want to get a beer tonight?" He's not only forgotten that he's been out with me, he doesn't remember that he went to the bathroom and didn't come back! I write back:

"I'm not going out with you. Are you an idiot or too stoned to remember that I don't go out with the unemployed?"

What a tard.