Epiphany

Yesterday was Date #2 with Truffle Man.

I was a little bit nervous to meet up with Truffle Man, as I'd had a pleasant time with him on our last date, and didn't want to expect too much or be too hopeful. I also had a hard time with the outfit decision...usually by date 2 I am letting it all hang out (if not already on date 1) but I'm trying to be more demure in my old age, as I've mentioned before. I settled on a halter top with a short but respectable skirt and flat sandals. I looked casual yet put together. Cute with a hint of sexy, but not obvious.

Imagine my surprise when I got to the restaurant and Truffle Man was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts, and Birkenstocks.

Yup, Birkenstocks.

I do not condone this outfit even if he were going to the beach. Which he wasn't. He was meeting me at 8pm for a dinner...granted it wasn't a fancy dinner, but it was our second date, and dammit, I have to worry about how I look, why the fuck doesn't he???

I was giving myself a hard time inside my head for being the kind of girl who cares about such things, but honestly, it was hard to allow myself to look past it. But I did, because he's nice, and I enjoy his company. But I couldn't help feeling like, in throwing on such an ensemble, he just didn't give a flying fuck about our date (or...even worse, he thought very carefully about it, and that was the outfit that he came up with, which is really frightening..so I try not to think about that).

I concentrated on our food and the conversation that took place for the next 2 hrs. Light flirting went into play, and I eased up about the bad outfit.

It was becoming increasingly clear that he was enjoying my company, and he hinted several times about seeing me again...doing things in the future...all very nice, very good things. We went to my local bar, had a drink...and then I started to get tired.

Now I know me, if I like a guy, tired be damned...I will rally. But all of a sudden I just really wanted to go. So he walked me home. And I realized that he was about the same height as me. And I was wearing flats, remember...I got to my apartment and I think he was waiting for an invite up. I hugged him goodbye, kissed him sort of on the mouth and thanked him for a good time. He looked disappointed. I was relieved.

Don't get me wrong, if he asks me out again (which I think he will) I will say yes. I have not completely given up on this. I don't care that much about the outfit. What I care about is that I don't feel attracted enough to him, and as much as I could learn to feel attracted to him, I'm just not conditioned that way. I truly believe that you like who you like, and that is just the way it goes.

I know you are all reading this and shaking your heads and thinking about all the times I wished I had a nice guy and all the times I cried over Remax2 and all the times I hated that I was single. But here's what I have been realizing over and over...I am not going to settle. I have been single for too long now, and I'm kind of ok with it...I want to be the type of person who doesn't need instant animal magnetism to be with a man. But I'm not. I cannot "learn" to be attracted to someone. It's not in my genetic makeup. I'm not going to date someone just for the sake of not being alone...as tempting as it can be. Maybe something will click for me the next time I see him. Or maybe he's another candidate for the Friend Zone.

It's not him, it's ME.

And four days later...

So, I reread what I wrote a mere 4 days ago and I feel like this week has had a significant turnaround. Truth be told, not all that much has happened, but I guess when you have absolutely NOTHING going on, a few small events can feel like the earth has shifted.

I did NOT get picked to be a juror. Thank GOD. It was quite a hilarious ride though. By day 3 I had developed such a crush on the Keith Partridge haired attorney. I don't even know that he was all that attractive, but I guess when you're sitting in the front row of a very small room listening to the same questions be asked and answered over and over again, you can make Carrot Top look like Brad Pitt. Or something like that. I caused quite a ruckus...I brought up a reason why they may not exactly want me on their jury...I had a beef with the defendant...I got taken outside a lot. I had to visit the judge. Keith Partridge hair told me I was an attention whore (well, he didn't say whore...but we all know I am one, so...) Then finally, FINALLY they let me go on Day 3. I waited for Keith Partridge hair to make his move. He did not. C'est la vie ;)

Tuesday night I had a date-yes a date!-with the not Jacques Torres truffle-maker. It was actually quite successful! We had a respectable two drinks. I did not wear a slutty outfit, figuring it was time to weed out the dudes who only liked me for my boobs. He told me how he had planned a surprise for me initially, had we gone out to dinner (I nixed dinner in lieu of first meeting drinks. NEVER do first date dinner. NEVER!) and my response was "Oh, were you going to propose?" At which he laughed. And not nervously, might I add. He drove me home, and there was a brief hug at the door. And he emailed me the next day and promptly invited me out again. So. We'll see.

My long distance paramour and I have been flirting shamelessly and endlessly all over the internet. Last night, after getting home from a night out in the East Village with Remax2, Mr Long Distance and I texted (sexted?) until 5am. He is coming here in July and I'm both intrigued and frightened about this visit. Too many expectations have been flung out there already, but then again, the power of suggestion is very, very mighty. So who knows. All in fun, right?

Remax2. He's still around. I think he is a lifer. I have no more to say on that.

I attended a going away party tonight for an ex-blogger friend, and reconnected with a
really great group of people that I regret I don't get to see more often. I'm thrilled for my friend and excited for her new life, but I am going to miss our neighborhood jaunts and dinners!

I did not hear back from any of the places that I interviewed at a few weeks back, and no new job opportunities have come up in my industry that I know of. I did, however, meet up with my friend and put in my application to hostess at the new restaurant she's managing. I also started applying for writing jobs...something that I never had the balls to do before. I even sent some writing samples from this very blog in response to a Craigs List ad looking for "sexy, smart, funny stories for a new nightlife publication".

So. We shall see.

Treading Water

I'm having a really hard time deciding if my life is going to get decidedly more exciting, or if it's just all going to blow up in my face in a big and bad way. Or neither. Maybe it's just wishful thinking, being that I've been coasting for the last six months or so and don't really have anything to show for it, and therefore need to hope and pray that I end up with something magnificent before I die of ennui or get evicted from my apartment.

Since I am still pretty much unemployed (had two interviews last week but haven't heard anything since then) I am going to have to get creative with the job hunt. I'm talking to a friend of mine about hostessing at a restaurant she manages. I'm looking at an opening at my favorite ice cream shop. I'm scouring the internet for weird odd jobs and, yet again, contemplating the nude model idea from way back when. My big bad memoir hasn't even begun to be written, so the likelihood of THAT providing me with any income anytime soon is just a wet dream at this point...but don't get me started or I will break down and sob about what a waste of life I am, and that, my friends, will just not be pretty.

As for my love life...it's still pretty pathetic...and probably will remain so (which is still being done on purpose...I got a lecture from one of my friends a couple weeks ago that I am just still not ready to meet someone...and she is probably absolutely right). BUT, I have a few things up my sleeve by the way of a long-distance fling...a musician who is traveling the world right now...and a guy who owned his own truffle company (unfortunately it is NOT Jacques Torres). Of course none of these things are going to lead to anything good or real, but if I'm not "ready"...then why not have some fun while I wait it out, right?

And I totally caught a lawyer looking at my tits during the voir dire at jury duty today. He has Keith Partridge hair, feathered and all...and I kinda think he's hot. If I don't get picked for the case I'm going to try really hard to get me some of that. Haha!

I'm So Precious

So. Self-improvement has begun. The workouts have been jacked up. The late nights have been curbed. The job search has been back in full-swing. Creative projects are coming out of my ears. Dating has been put on the back burner-my bike is slowly replacing food/sex/booze when I'm bored/antsy/sad/fill in negative emotion here.

All good things. All very, very good things.

Except the dating being put on the back-burner. I mean, yes, that is a good thing. Not worrying about men and their needs and wants and desire or lack thereof has been extremely beneficial to my well-being and sanity, to be sure. Of course, my libido is raging and girls still have their own needs...which battery-operated boyfriends can only help fulfill to a certain extent, let's face it.

I never said I wanted to be a nun, for fucks sake. But that seems to be the direction that I am headed.

There's this guy who appears in my yoga classes from time to time. The first time I saw him I had to do a double-take as he looked SO MUCH like someone I was involved with last year, my heart literally pounded out of my chest when he walked in the room. When I finally calmed down and realized it wasn't who I thought it was, I allowed myself to enjoy the view (this guy definitely shares a similar look to my past paramour, but is actually much, much more attractive).

Since that first viewing, Yoga Guy has been in a handful of classes with me. Everytime, I crush on him just a little bit more. Harmless, right?

Yes, until last week, when he plopped his mat next to mine one morning and I decided that this must be a sign for me to engage him in scintillating conversation. Because wouldn't it be great to have "our story" be how we met in yoga class? Instead of on a dating website? Or at an orgy?

How to do it was a different story.

I spent the hour strutting my Vinyasa like a peacock, perfectly flowing, flexing and twisting for his benefit. You know, in case he happened to be checking out my moves. I'd never been more graceful or in perfect form, and I was pretty sure he noticed and was, in fact, highly impressed with my yoga prowess.

At the end of class, I found myself lingering, sitting on my mat, seductively pulling on my socks. He was also lingering, rolling up his mat, getting his stuff together. I had to say something, it was now or never.

I half turned to him and tried to say, "That seemed harder then usual, huh?"

I think what came out of my mouth was something like this: "meh, fow coo nom ma". And even more frustrating, I sort of muttered it. To the open air in front of me.

He looked over at me and sort of half spoke to me back, "Uh...yeah?"

He then turned away.

Note to self. Communication skills with random guys need brushing up. Stat.

Is this the End or Just the Beginning?

Remax1 (my high school boyfriend) just gchatted me for the first time in a while...I probably haven't talked to him in a few months, which isn't abnormal, but there was a brief time where we were so happy to have reconnected after 20 or so years that we were logging on nightly and having clandestine gchat rendezvous.

At any rate, he asked me how things were going, and I mentioned that things on my end were quite boring, actually, and that I had nothing to report.

He said something like "Really? That's so disappointing, I usually enjoy living vicariously through your stories". And: "Whenever I stalk your FB page your pix make you seem like you party just like we were back in High School."

Oh God.

The minute he said that I wanted to log off of the chat and rip down all of my FB pictures and go out and marry the first man I saw even if it was someone who looked like a frog, and pop out a hundred babies and cook a meal barefoot while pregnant.

The truth is, I am getting a little tired of it all. The endless dating/one night stands/unrequited love. The nights out, drinking to excess and laughing about it in the morning. The blogging about it for shits and giggles. I mean seriously, how many more posts can you read about Remax2? About the loser I met on crotch.com who's apartment was so disgusting that the last thing I said before passing out in his bed was "Holy fuck, this is the messiest bedroom I have ever seen." About the fact that I finally fucked the Tall Guy, and he's tall ALL over? Or I saw this one night stand on a dating website and sent him a friendly "good luck to you " email? Or that my stalker is back?

Yea. Boring stuff.

I have been taking a break from this blog because I need it to take a different turn...in addition to needing my life to take a different turn. Perhaps if I start writing about more interesting, important things, my life will become more interesting and important.

Deja Vu

This night was the same as the other nights. Yet different.

Different because, I remember there was chasing. Chasing down the street. Him, chasing after me. What a difference that was.
If it wasn't so fucking comical, it would have felt empowering. Yet it wasn't. It was sad.

"You're not attracted to me. You don't love me." I had said it all before.
And yet again.

"I do love you. I am attracted to you." He said it. I heard it. I'll never stop hearing it.

"So then what?"

I stared at him. Waiting for more. Wishing there was more.

"I. Don't. Know."

Fuck. You.

I got on the subway without looking back. I was afraid to know what it was that would be looking back at me.

Making Sense of it All

One of the recurring themes in my life, as well as this blog, are my unrequited feelings for you-know-who (if you don't know who, then you haven't been reading long enough, and too bad, cuz I removed almost all the posts about him for safety's sake) (I know, I'm so hospitable. Welcome to my blog). I hear myself talk about it, I read what I write about it, and honestly, I have to say, if I were listening to someone else talk about it, I would probably a) punch them in the face, b) tell them they're retarded, or c) put my hands up to my ears and go "la la la I can't hear you" everytime they brought the subject up. I do read about this subject quite a bit in other peoples' blogs (mostly chicks I hate to say) and the question I ask myself everytime is Why? We are smart women. We would give our friends advice about these men such as "He's just not that into you, let him go" or "Stop wasting your time with this douchebag." but when it comes to our own situations we hold onto every little last piece of hope, every word that could mean something else, every ounce of attention that is showered upon us...perhaps this time will be the time.

A couple weeks ago, you-know-who and I went out drinking til 4am. I was out with Akat and he ended up meeting us out at my local watering hole. Akat stuck around to cockblock me from him, which was probably smart, considering the last time he and I went out drinking we talked about "us" for almost the entire time...which didn't really get me anywhere, it actually made me super fucking sad. Of course. Because that's what these types of relationships do. Which is why they don't make sense to keep around. Anyway, Akat got tired of cock blocking me and left (but not before I went out to bum a cigarette from some dude, who I ended up chatting with for a super long time, and you-know-who came out not once but TWICE to see if I was "ok"...um who's cockblocking who now??) and YKH and I stayed out another hour or so before calling it a night...except that he drove me home, and we sat in his car for yet ANOTHER hour talking. Not about us, this time, thank the lord. But just about life, the universe, whatnot. And as usual, I left his car feeling really confused and upset by our situation. How can he not fucking love me? ME?

Since that night I've tried to curb my communication with him...I let myself be more elusive and not so available...I figure if I just slowly disappear maybe one day I won't give a shit about him anymore and we can *really* be friends...as opposed to this one-sided bullshit. One-sided meaning he thinks we are friends and I will never stop wanting more. But somehow, while out with Akat again last night, he and I ended up texting each other til oh, 2am or so. Who does that? Oh. We do.

I'd forgotten that I'd emailed him earlier that day...I had had a dream about him...he and I were walking on a boardwalk and he bought a dog from someone and when he let me hold the dog for a second I realized it wasn't a dog at all but a rat (I refrained from telling him the part where he and I got it on right there on the dirty old boardwalk with his nasty rat-dog tied to a fence, for obvious reasons). At any rate, at the end of our texting session he tells me that he had read my email about the dream and that it freaked him out...because he had a rat dream also...and right before he saw my email he was thinking about how we're all connected in some way, and then saw that we'd had similar dreams. I was like "crazy coincidence." His reply "no such thing as a coincidence".

Which just reaffirms in my fucked up brain that he and I, as always, are in sync. Fucking ALWAYS.

I know I know...you want to punch me in the face, tell me I'm retarded, or shut your ears and sing "la la la I can't hear you." Go ahead. You won't be the only ones.