The one who recorded live concerts

(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

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

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

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

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

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.
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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

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

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 so obnoxious

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

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

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.

The one that I totally forgot about

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

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 drove a white minivan

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 lied about his height

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 stood me up on New Year's Eve

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?

The one who had an open marriage

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

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

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

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.