Monthly Archives: July 2012

Sadness is an emotion I have no use for. It’s the unfortunate by-product of working too much and sleeping too little. Being sexually frustrated also doesn’t help. Nor does listening to Jewel.

The worst part about my job is that a lot of it is spent driving places or waiting on things…i.e. I have a lot of time to dwell on things that should really be stowed away somewhere for a rainy day. Or for never. And because of my current singular situation (I guess I should be used to it by now) I end up thinking about all the instances where my confidence failed me, and I didn’t say or do something I wanted to, and all I can do now is wonder what would have happened if I had done something different.

The perfect couple

So this past week, my roommate’s girlfriend visited. They’re the kind of couple that you don’t mind hanging out with. They don’t make you feel like a third wheel. They’re funny and engaging, and they’re not obnoxiously touchy-feely with each other. But every now and then, they’d share a glance or a smile, and I’d get a look at their incredibly true relationship and feel this pang of jealousy. You could practically touch the love between the two of them.

Hard questions

It’s hard not to be whiny and ask (to whom I have no idea), “When’s my turn? When will I find someone with whom I can share a similar bond? Will he just appear out of nowhere, like a wraith, or do I have to actively search for him? And what about the time in between? What about my libido? Should I just sleep around? (and how does one go about doing that by the way?) Should I be chaste? (and how does one go about doing that by the way?)”.

Course, there’s no escaping happy couples. They’re everywhere. They’re sharing a quick kiss at the stoplight in the car in front of me, or holding hands walking down the sidewalk downtown. They’re my parents, who still flirt playfully with each other after 35 years of marriage. They’re my two married sisters and my brother who just celebrated one year dating his girlfriend.

So then comes the next set of questions: “What’s wrong with me? Am I too picky? Am I too stand-offish? Am I intimidating?” Or maybe I’m just shooting myself in the foot with my inability to communicate my interest to guys and my natural inclination to hide any evidence of my preference.

So what now?

Should I just get in my car and track down every guy I’ve ever had a crush on and didn’t say something to? Or should I continue my search here in town (on a 6-day week work schedule)? Maybe I should buy myself a better vibrator. Or just stop listening to sad love songs. Maybe if I concentrate hard enough, my dream guy will just appear on my door step in a brown paper package tied up with string. But I suppose in the meantime, I’m going to look into buying a better vibrator.


So I finally went on my date with the guy from the bar. We were supposed to go canoeing, but apparently the tide wasn’t right, so we went bike riding instead. I have to admit, I’m glad we didn’t go canoeing because that would have been very close quarters for a much longer time.

Setting up the date

He waited three days to get in touch with me, as is “standard”, at which point I received a text message that said, “R u doin ok???”

I had noticed at the bar that this guy was a good bit older than me. I’d guess he’s around 30. But you’d think from the way he types, that he’s in 8th grade. And the more text messages I received from him, the less excited I was about our date. Apparently he was more fond of punctuation than letters because while he wouldn’t spell out some words, he’d add three question marks or a handful of exclamation points. To top things off, he would occasionally spell a word with extra letters. He wanted to find me on Facebook, so he wrote, “Whats ur last name agiiiiin?”

Making love ordinary

While it’s hard not to judge someone by their text messages, I wanted to withhold my final judgment until I actually hung out with the guy. So I didn’t bail on him even though I wanted to and even though I had the most curious feeling of resistance to the whole ordeal. It was as if by going on this date, I was admitting that I’d have to settle. It was making love ordinary, just another item on my to-do list: do laundry, pick up groceries, get a phone number, go on a date, fall in love…

Maybe I’m just naive, but I want something with sparks. The kind you get from the beginning, not the kind you grow to imagine are there. I don’t want to settle for less than butterflies in my stomach. I remember freshman year of college I started going out with this guy that I was so into, I had constant butterflies and couldn’t keep food down for a couple days. Obviously that’s a little extreme, but some nerves would be nice!

The disaster date

We scheduled the date for the afternoon, and I made sure I had somewhere to be soon after in case it didn’t go well (which I suspected it might not). I texted him earlier in the afternoon to confirm we were still on, and he told me he was very hungover. Already off to a good start. I arrived at his house and hopped on my bike as he said, “I’m not going to bring my wallet. Is that ok?” We were biking to a diner to have lunch. “Umm, ok…” (what was I supposed to say!? He basically just told me outright that he wasn’t going to pay for my lunch, in fact I’d be paying for his). “I’m not going to eat anything,” he continued. Ok, that’s a little better…but still. 

Finally, we got on our bikes and started off down the road. I struck up a friendly conversation, and he said, “I thought you were blond…?”I didn’t know what to say. I almost said, “Oh, I’m sorry, should I just go home then?” But I refrained myself (barely). So, first he says he’s not even going to offer to buy my lunch, then he implies that I’m not attractive because I’m not blond. We’re definitely getting somewhere (and I’m definitely going home asap).

We get to the diner and he immediately says something about wanting a pie. I had no intention of getting a pie, but the waitress heard him say it and he made a face like, “I wouldn’t say no…” So we got a pie. He talked about his ex girlfriends, his itinerant lifestyle, his ailing uncle, and the fact that he hasn’t held down a real job in years. Clearly a winner.

Finally the forced conversation lunch was over, and we hopped back on the bikes to peddle around the lake. The scenery was beautiful and the weather nice, so I enjoyed the ride for the most part. Except the two times he had us stop at a couple docks to “look for alligators” aka try to make a move. I leaned on the railing looking over at the lake, inching farther away from him as he kept inching closer. I’m sure it was a pretty comical sight to anyone passing by. The second time I’d wizened up, and I didn’t get off my bike, but kept it positioned so as to keep him from getting within a couple feet of me. Then I looked at my watch and said I needed to get back home or I was going to be late to my horseback riding lesson.

On the ride back, he referenced getting laid (it’s obvious where his mind was), and failed to carry much conversation. When we got back to his house, I made an excuse not to hug him and then got in my car as fast as I could. He told me to call him. I smiled politely and said I would, then drove away without looking back.

And then I ended up in a treehouse

That night I went out with some friends to the bar where I met bar guy, crossing my fingers that I wouldn’t see him there. I didn’t. But I did meet a rather attractive marine who invited us to a party three blocks away in a treehouse. I was a little skeptical, so I asked to see a picture, which he provided readily. Well damn. How often does one party in a treehouse? I decided to check it out and managed to convince one of my friends to come along (safety in numbers!).

The treehouse was legit. There was a spiral staircase leading up to a deck with a bamboo-lined railing and shabby-chic furnishings (must have been a girl helping them with the decor). There was also a giant stuffed bear, a pair of bull horns, and a guy playing a guitar backwards (but well) and making up lewd lyrics to well-known songs. The first hour we were there, I laughed and smiled so much that my face literally felt like it might split in two. It was kind of painful, actually.

A welcome distraction

The marine turned out to be a real sweetheart, but not the most intellectual guy. He was very well meaning and tended to my friend’s and my every need. Not to mention he was très cute. Unfortunately, he was also drinking straight scotch. A lot of it. And by the time my friend and I decided to head out, he was very drunk. He went to kiss me, but I dodged it, kissed him on the cheek, and told him to call me later. I’d only had 2 and a half beers…way too sober to make out with a wasted guy.

I watched him type in my number on his phone, and he called my phone to give me his, but my phone was dead. I tried to explain that I wasn’t going to have his number since my phone was dead, but I don’t think it registered in his very inebriated mind. So we’ll see if he gets back to me. That was Saturday night, so tomorrow will be three days. We’ll know then if the three-day rule is actually a thing or not.

As my friend and I got in our taxi, the marine walked up to the passenger-side window and leaned in. “Are you coming with us?” I said, teasingly. “Is that an invitation?” he replied. I laughed, “No, no. Call me when you’re a little more sober.” He walked away and we drove off. I turned to my friend – who had a conspiratorial grin on her face – and said, “He’s a lot cuter than the guy I went on a date with earlier today.” The taxi driver glanced over his shoulder at us and burst out laughing.

I’ll go ahead and flatter myself by assuming you are all sitting on the edge of your seats waiting to hear about the sticky situation involving a married man that I mentioned in my last post. Well get ready. Because it’s not really worth all the hype. It’s actually kind of depressing.

Flirtatious D

A month or two ago, I met this guy on a job. (I work in film…and before you get any kinky ideas, let me clarify: I work on the crew). And since I knew he was married (wedding ring) I made the mistake of treating him like I treat my girlfriends. Normally when I meet a guy (and I’m not interested) I’m very careful not to come across as too flirtatious. Because from what I understand of men, if you smile at them and have a decent conversation, they’ll assume you’re interested. ‘Course, I’m not gonna be rude to a guy just because I’m not interested, I’m just going to be more on my guard. I was not on my guard with married guy.

So I’m new in town

I just moved to this town in March and am often away on jobs. Needless to say, I haven’t made a ton of friends yet. The good news is, I just got on a big job in town and will be here till the end of September. Huzzah, a social life is on the horizon! In any case, I’ve been on the lookout for potential friends since day one. And it just so happened that married guy became one of them. We hung out a few times (completely innocently, I swear), and then he dropped a bomb on me.

If my wife knew…

He told me that he and his wife have been having marital issues for several months now, and that they “weren’t allowed” to have friends of the opposite sex (umm…trust issues much?). He then told me that every time we’d hung out, he’d lied to his wife about where he’d been, even though we hadn’t done anything sketchy. at. all. But guess what? Now it looks sketchy. “If my wife knew, she’d freak the fuck out,” he concluded.


I told married guy that if we were to continue to hang out, he needed to introduce his wife to the friend group (aka me and my three friends). I also told him he needed to quit lying about us hanging out (you’d think that was a no-brainer).

When he finally told his wife, she was pretty angry and hurt (as any woman would be when she finds out her spouse has been lying to her about anything, especially about another woman in his life, however platonic the relationship). Obviously, our friendship became a source of contention between the two of them. So I decided that the only way to rectify the situation was to have her meet me (and friends) and see that I meant no harm. Course I forgot one thing: I’m a young, attractive, single female. And in this woman’s eyes, I was a threat to her marriage, her family (did I mention they have a kid? Oh yeah, they have a kid), and her ultimate happiness. Plenty of women are hated for much less.

How do you pick your friends?

I invited them to come to the show last Saturday night, and they did. As soon as we met, the wife recognized my good intentions, and we both laughed gleefully that there could have been such a big misunderstanding. Then we sat down and giggled about girly things over cosmos and a hummus plate and planned to get together the next weekend for a trip to the mall and a girl’s night out. Not.

What actually happened is the wife showed up already partly sloshed. As soon as she met me, she looked me up and down and made up her mind to hate me. But she was “pleasant” to me the whole night until we found ourselves left alone for a minute or two. Then she leaned over and hissed into my ear, “I just have to ask. What motivates a single woman to be friends with a married man?” What I wanted to say was, “I don’t choose my friends on their marital eligibility. We had things in common, so we became friends. How do you pick your friends?”

‘Course, I was trying very hard to be as nice to her as possible, so I just muttered something about being new in town and trying to make friends with everyone I met. But she wasn’t listening. She just rambled on about being together for 10 years, having a kid, and how she wished she had a husband who had the balls to end our friendship. They left soon after this conversation.

Maybe we shouldn’t be friends…just a thought

I talked to married guy a couple days later and asked how his wife was feeling. Apparently not so good (shocker). I told him we probably shouldn’t be friends anymore. I also said he should probably go to counseling (did I mention I kind of became his personal counselor? It got to the point where I felt like I needed to start charging him by the hour). He got pretty upset, but eventually realized that was the only thing he could do to make things better with his wife.

Local friend count -1

On the bright side, I’m going on a date on Saturday with the guy from the show. We’re supposed to go canoeing. I’ll let you know how it goes.

My goal last night was to get one guy’s phone number.

I was pretty occupied last night because of a sticky situation that I somehow got myself into involving a married man (I’ll give you the deets in my next post), and he and his wife stuck around at the show a lot longer than I’d anticipated. It was about 11:30 when they left, and I didn’t have any prospects. There was a cute bearded guy that I wanted to talk to, but I couldn’t get him to look at me, and by the time I had a free second, he’d gotten up and left. Plus he seemed to be having some sort of intense conversation with a male friend. Wouldn’t want to interrupt that.

Finally, a sighting!

My two friends and I headed out on the dance floor (the band was a surfer-rock/rockabilly group so it was perfect dancing music!) and danced around for a bit. I had told my friend M about my goal for the evening, and she was all for it. As we were dancing, she pointed out a guy sitting at the bar behind me, “He’s really cute,” she said. I glanced over my shoulder at him. He looked at me. I smiled then looked away. I did this a couple more times over the course of a few minutes.

Then I said to my friends, “I’m going to get another beer,” and walked over to the bar next to him. He started talking to me right away. I didn’t even need a segue. He said something like, “Getting a beer?” I refrained from being a smartass and saying, “No, I was just coming over here to lean on the bar. Here’s your sign.” I suppose, though, I didn’t actually want another beer, I was in fact just coming over to lean on the bar and talk to a cute guy, so my smartassery would have been moot.

Anyway, he bought my beer, and then asked if I wanted to go sit on the patio where we could talk.

Patio Chatter and being coquettish

One thing I’m very good at – so I’ve discovered – is playing the coquette. I’m very aware of my face, actions, hair and eyes. So I know how to give a flirtatious, slightly shy smile. I’ve mastered the “look away shyly” and the “corner of the eyes glance”. Talking to this guy was actually sort of weird because I felt like I was acting the whole time. And honestly, talking to someone for the first time kind of is acting.

Raised in the South

I’ve always gotten very nervous in social situations. When I was younger, my mother, who is from Southern Georgia, used to tell me the best thing to do in social situations is to take a deep breath, let it out, and tell yourself everything will be OK. I’ve seen my mother do that so many times, that I’ve picked it up from her. First she breathes in deeply, presses her lips together, then she smooths down her dress with both hands as she lets out her breath and puts a big, genuine smile on her face. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my southern upbringing, it’s that a smile diffuses any situation.

And the verdict

At the end of the night, I actually left with not one, but two guys’ numbers. To be fair, one of them was a childhood friend that I hadn’t seen or talked to in years, coincidentally living in the same city as me! The other guy was the one from the bar. I gave him my number and he sent me a text message that said: “You are so cute it hurts my teeth.”

Mission Accomplished.

Not too long ago I would have told you that hipster beards are gross. Clean-shaven cherub face all the way. Not so much anymore. There was one guy a couple months ago that I found myself sort of surprisingly attracted to. And he had a full beard. Like, mountain man beard. And mountain man chest. This was the first time I’d ever found myself attracted to the “hipster” look. To be fair, he was a good dresser – plaid and chucks, but clean cut and wrinkle-free. Good hygiene. I think that is the main thing about the beard. I feel like if you don’t have good hygiene, you’re more likely not to give a shit about shaving your beard.

So anyway, after my weird attraction to this guy, I was in the local record store (yeah, I know I’m becoming a hipster. It’s hard to reverse the process at this point) and all the guys working there were bearded hipster guys. And I was kind of taken aback by the fact that I was attracted to them. Weird. So I guess I like guys with beards now. Whatevs.

So. Welcome to my brand new blog.

Please pardon me for a minute as I take five to come to terms with the realization that my favorite celebrity crush, David Tennant, is married with two kids. As of December 30th 2011.

I guess you could say that ship has sailed (or shall we say that TARDIS). But enough about David Tennant.


I am starting this blog as an attempt to make sense of my love life (or lack thereof) and to provide some inspiration and funny stories for the folks at home. You see, I am a single 20-something female college graduate who is physically fit and living in a hip coastal town. There’s no reason I shouldn’t be dating the heck out of this place, right? I mean, it’s that time in my life. To go out there and experience a bunch of shit.

Everyone’s getting married. Wtf?

My oldest sister got married at 25. My other sister at 23. My parents at 22. According to my family’s record, I should be married by now. Or at least in six months. To be fair, I’m aware this is not the norm. But I’m meeting more and more people that are married and have been for several years by now, and it’s wigging me the fuck out. I am simultaneously terrified of losing my freedom and of ending up alone.

The Sex Factor

Here’s the deal, I think I could handle the whole being alone forever thing (or at least stomach it a little better) if it weren’t for sex. After I recently complained to a friend about my pathetic sex life, she said, “It sucks the first couple of months, but once you get over the hump, it doesn’t seem to be a big deal anymore.” Well guess what, I’m at like 8 months. And it’s still killing me. So this blog is going to be as much about getting some booty as getting some dates.

The First Challenge

Tomorrow (slash later today) I am going to a show. My challenge for myself is to come home with at least one guy’s phone number. This is my challenge, and I choose to accept it. You will know if I was successful. You’ll know.

Sit back and enjoy the ride

Welcome to my blog. Feel free to comment, or just to lurk, that’s cool too. Whatevs. But be prepared for a bumpy road ahead. I’m definitely fastening my seat belt.

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