All About the Drama

Just as I'd hoped, things got a helluva lot more interesting 'round here. I found out why Curly Sue was in tears earlier this week. Last Friday after work, Curly Sue and Boris went to Buffalo Wild Wings where the spicy wings beer worked as an aphrodisiac and they ended up getting a hotel room. Scandalous! Apparently there had been one kiss that took place prior to that, but that was all the further it had gone.

So it turns out Boris is indeed happily married, contrary to the evidence, and has told Curly Sue he wishes he would've met her before his wife. However, Boris also claims to feel no remorse. Strange, no? I'm not sure where Curly Sue stands, but perhaps this will make her realize she married a loser. You know, since being married for a year, half of which they spent separated and drawing up divorce papers over him concealing financial debt didn't seem to do the trick.

One has no regret and one has a deadbeat husband. What do you think the odds are of this being a one-time thing?

Oh Baby!

Last weekend I invited TheGuy to go to dinner with my family. It was the first time he met my brothers so it was kind of a big deal.

And then there's my mom. You may recall she did meet TheGuy at the wedding, but that was only a brief encounter so her moments of opportunity to humiliate me were few and far between. But when you have a mother who tends to rapidly form emotional bonds to the significant others of her children, it can be a scary thing to bring boys home. She’s still not over the loss of Platonic Ex and probably never will be.

To my surprise, she behaved herself at dinner. For the most part.

At one point, she turned to TheGuy and said, “Have you seen WTP’s baby pictures?” Yes Mother, we sit around and page through my baby books on weekends. TheGuy said no, and thus when prompted to see them, he gave the only polite response in such a situation and pretended to be amused as he flipped through my mom’s wallet-size photo booklet.

I mean, really, do guys care about their girlfriend’s baby pictures? I think not. She pulled this once before, busting out the baby pictures back when she first met Married Ex. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

It's not like my mom said, “Would you like to see a picture of my daughter making out with another girl?” or “Hey, do you wanna see a photo of my daughter in a schoolgirl uniform?” Seeing a picture of a pudgy baby dressed in trousers with red suspenders and saddle shoes is hardly interesting.

I really don’t know what my mom is thinking by asking the guys I bring home if they want to see my baby pictures. Is she hoping they’ll see how cute I was and suddenly get down on one knee and ask for my hand in marriage? Damn, she sure was a cute baby, imagine what our kids would look like! She's not really a picture person, but for some reason, when it comes to whipping out those baby pictures, it’s always a quick draw. Typically cashiers and sale associates are the victims of her Proud Mother Syndrome.

Speaking of babies, my mom and I were at the mall a couple weeks ago when she struck up conversation with the young couple + baby in front of us. After cooing over the newborn, she turned to me and said, “You know, I would like to have grandchildren someday.” Thanks Mom.

I Hope She's Got Pepper Spray in Her Desk

There's a girl who works a few cubes away from me, we'll call her Curly Sue, who was rumored to be crying at her desk the other day. Curly Sue is twenty-five and married to a deadbeat husband. When Curly Sue first started here, she and her husband were separated so she was living with one of her best friends. Five months down the line, Curly Sue and her husband reconciled and she moved back in with him.

Deadbeat Douche is unemployed and sits at home all day while she puts in a full day and then goes directly from here to her second job as a hair stylist. While she spends her weekends trimming mullets at the local salon, he spends his chugging beers at the local bar or passed out on the living room sofa.

I'm not close with Curly Sue but I make it my business to know the personal affairs of others, even complete strangers are at risk. Apparently Curly Sue is distraught because she and another guy at work, Boris, also married, have strong feelings for one another. Boris works in a different building but his visits with Curly Sue seem to be a daily occurrence these days.

As an outsider looking in, the situation is crystal clear. One has a job and one doesn't. But I know, I know. For poor Curly Sue, love is blind. I don't know whether Boris and his wife are happily married, but I'm hoping for some major inter-office drama to unfold in the very near future. Not that I want to advocate infidelity, but hey, this just happens to be the most exciting thing to happen around here since Deborah described her method for lying down perfectly flat on her bed in order to button her fly.

One for the Record Books

You know your blood alcohol content was likely near the .20% range when you wake to a ball of chewed bubble gum firmly planted on your nightstand. Gum you apparently put there at some point during the hours of 2:30 am (give or take a few) and 10:34 am. Because upon the realization you'd a.) gone to bed with a wad of gum in your mouth b.) slept a few hours and been fortunate enough not to choke to death on the wad of gum in your mouth, you'd decided the five feet from your bed to the nearest trash can was an impossible feat.

Saturday was T.'s birthday so we went to dinner and did some shopping. Afterwards we got ready at her place and watched Steve-O get his butt cheeks pierced together on Jackass. Some people decided they were too cool to hang out with us, but it turned out for the better since we had way more fun than we ever imagined. Per C-Sharp's suggestion, we decided to check out a new bar downtown. It didn't look a whole lot different than the old bar it replaced with the addition of some booths and a better dance floor, but it was a different crowd that seemed to attract more people in our age group (25-30).

We arrived way-too-sober, but fret not for there were drinks to be had (8 or 9 of 'em + 3 shots), dancing to be done, lack of skill aside, and boys vying for our attention. It seems the black guys have been into me lately for one approached me as we were standing near the bar. As I stood there, arms crossed, he approached from behind which is never a good thing as I learned from The Game. It caught me off-guard and made me ill-at-ease. He introduced himself, but that was it. There's nothing I detest more than awkward silence. I was too sober to carry on a conversation with him at that point, and he really just failed with his introduction. I'm sure he thought I was a total bitch but I couldn't come up with anything to say to him so he just walked off.

Fast forward to drink 6. T. and I were rather amused by the males on the dance floor. One guy insisted on raising his hands high above his head as if he were taking part in one of those energized sermons where you sing and clap and praise the Lord. Or whatever it is they do. Then there was Scary Scarf Boy who wooed women with his scarf. His red and orange silk scarf possessed the power to seduce women. He managed to invade a group of four girls and danced provactively with one who happened to either be a stripper or knew Carmen Electra's striptease video by heart.

Not quite drunk enough to dance yet, we stood beside the dance floor as innocent bystanders, mocking all the dudes making fools of themselves. All in good fun. And then the second guy to hit on me came up and asked why we weren't dancing -- the standard pick-up line of all-time. Guys should really be more creative in this regard. He was attractive and sort of charming and he was actually older than me (doesn't happen often these days). I talked to him quite a bit but he was really too good-looking for me. I know that may sound crazy, but I prefer to be the more attractive one when it comes to dating. And I instantly don't trust good-looking men, particularly the ones who know they're good-looking. I also felt bad that his friend spent some talking to T. and as we headed to the bar for our next drink, she revealed the guy had bad breath. Gross dude, get a mint. Or take a step back.

The night really didn't get started until we took our first shot and decided to occupy two seats directly beside the dance floor, slowly inching our way towards it. This is the point in the night when we met Wheelchair Guy. He and his buddies had been out on the dance floor all night so it wasn't much of a surprise when he walked up to us and said, "Hey, why aren't you girls dancing?" Again, where's the originality? "Oh, we're waiting for a good song," the standard BS response. "You look like two girls in wheelchairs sitting there," he said. Then, in unison, he motioned with both his arms as if he were spinning the wheels of a wheelchair which became this hilarious dance move for the remainder of the evening. Not only did it get us to get up and dance, but he'd managed to provide an opening for himself. Not that either of us were interested in him in that way, but if that had been the case, he'd successfully opened the lines of communication. Ever since I read The Game, I've found this sort of thing fascinating: they way men pick up women and the interaction between males and females. It also turned out that Wheelchair Guy had a possessive girlfriend at home that called every fifteen minutes to check in on him which was rather comical. We had a good time dancing with Wheelchair Guy and his buddies. That is, until we realized we needed an umbrella to deflect Wheelchair Guy's saliva as he spoke.

After about drink 7 and shot #2, things get a bit fuzzy. I know another guy tried to say hi to me on the dance floor but I just laughed it off and wondered if I happened to look extremely hot i.e., easy or if the guy-to-girl ratio just tipped the scales in my favor. We wound up talking to another group of guys but by that point, I can only imagine what I must've sounded like, slurred speech and all. Drunkity, drunk, drunk. Toward the end, T. was so wasted that she decided it was time for her to go home -- right then and there. I offered to go with her but she pretty much bolted for the door. That's usually my move. I get too drunk, vacate the premises and put myself to bed. So I stayed and hung out with Jason and our new friends and it was somehow decided they would give me a ride home. No clue if I asked or they offered, but I'm willing to bet it wasn't my idea. Fortunately Jason didn't try to invite himself up or anything (not that I would've let him), for he had to give his two friends a ride home. Or maybe that was just his excuse, for I have a feeling I was "that girl." You know, the really hammered one they felt obliged to take care of, but couldn't wait to get rid of. After I got out of the car, they probably reiterated to one another how I was indeed "that girl."

Sneaky Little Thing

Before my brothers came along, my parents described me as this vibrant, cheerful little girl full of zest. Upon their arrival, my world came crashing down faster than Britney Spears' dignity. They were these pesky little creatures who not only stole my coveted personal belongings, but also stole the undivided attention right out from underneath me.

There's an old photo of me sitting peacefully on the perched area of our brick fireplace, toys neatly beside me, as my rugrat of a brother crawls below me. Since he hadn't learned to stand yet, I'd found a temporary way to keep him from being within hands reach of decapitating yet another Barbie.

As the misfits grew older and I realized they weren't going anywhere, I discovered ways to use their naivety to my advantage. If I learned a "bad word" at school, I'd rush home and tell the first one I saw and watch with guilty pleasure as my mom stuck a bar of soap in their mouth. They were putty in my hands. If I told them to jump on the living room furniture, I'd first be amazed by their stupidity, then run off and snitch to my mother. I never got bored of finding new ways to get them in trouble. As they were being hauled off to their rooms, I'd relish the role of the "good kid."

Being a good listener, I look for the weaknesses in others lest I need it for future use to strike a nerve. I became an expert in the field of pushing people's buttons using my two brothers as lab rats. It didn't take much for me to get one or both of them riled up, pitting them against one another. Not before long, they'd be wrestling and getting hollered at while I sat back and enjoyed the show.

I didn't know it at the time, but even our neighbor said something to my mom about my uncanny ability to manipulate men and how oblivious they were to my evil doings. So yes, I'm a little manipulator who instigates drama. I'm so sneaky about it that those around me fail to notice and it's become second nature so I no longer realize I'm doing it myself. Don't be fooled by my quiet presence. Bwahaha.

Single Self vs. Relationship Self

One thing I struggle with is not wanting to lose my independence in a relationship. Is it possible to be with someone and not lose a part of yourself? I don't believe so. You give up your freedom (to make out with random boys/girls). You make room in your life for this person. You factor them into decisions on a daily basis. You make compromises. You make promises. You do your best not to break said promises. You love. You trust. You share. Your capacity to do these things grows. You forgive.

After Platonic Ex and I broke up, I shut down emotionally. The thought of going through the whole process with someone else was unfathomable. Yet on the plus side, it was liberating to have my single life back. It took me a while to get back into the swing of things i.e., going out and partying every weekend, but as it turns out, it's like riding a bicycle.

Unfortunately, I can tell I've begun to shift from my rockstar lifestyle and it saddens me. I miss crazy late-night shopping cart shenanigans with GC and C-Sharp. While I still try to go out at least once a weekend, it's just not the same. And as more of my friends say "I do", the sadder it gets. Once a friend gets engaged, you see less and less of them. And once they're married, well, you see them at showers, weddings, and funerals. Keep in mind I'm speaking generally. Yes, I have married friends whom I still hang out with, but I can't help but long for the carefree days of college when everyone's first priority was which party to attend this weekend as opposed to what color should the table centerpiece be.

Sometimes There's a Moment

The other night I went and hung out at TheGuy's house. It was nothing special. We got dinner and watched some TV. But everything was different. Rather, his demeanor was completely different in a warm-hearted, romantic and affectionate way. For the first time, I could feel that he really cared about me. It used to concern me that I never truly felt it before. But this time I did. And it didn't freak me out like I thought it would.

I'm not always cynical.

Rule #1: Don't Scare Him Off!

Platonic Ex had a blind date last Friday with someone he met on Facebook. Apparently he added some dating application specific to single males/females in the nearby vicinity. He's lived out in Denver for about a year now so he's got a few friends in the area but now that he's single, he's definitely looking to branch out from his group. He thought this might be a good way to meet new people.

Her name is Rachel and he described her picture as "homely" but after he met her in person, he confirmed she is "okay" at least better looking than he anticipated. When they were emailing back and forth to set up their date, he told her he'd made reservations at a restaurant downtown. She wrote back and said, "Gotta love a man that takes charge!" He was beaming. They went to dinner and then hit up a couple bars for drinks afterwards. I asked how he ended the date and he got all quiet so I knew that meant he kissed her. He said, "I'm a man that takes charge." Somehow I knew he'd let that compliment go to his head. Also, he threw in the standard, "I'll give you a call."

While he never openly admitted it, I assume he had a good time and planned on calling her. But when I talked to him last night, he said she'd emailed him Saturday night at 11 pm (24 hours later, on a Saturday night) telling him how much fun she'd had and that she couldn't wait to do it again. She sent a follow-up email yesterday asking if he'd received her first email. So now he doesn't know whether he'll write her back because she's probably "psycho."

When it comes to guys, I generally wait for them to make the first move. I'm always under the assumption that if a guy wants to call, he'll call. Plain and simple. What do you think? Did Rachel make a mistake in contacting him first? By not waiting for him to reply to her first email, does that make her appear desperate and/or psychotic?

Watch Where You Step

Friday night I went to see the movie Definitely, Maybe and I have to say I was pleasantly surprised. When I first saw the preview, I thought it looked like another silly chick flick, but I knew the movie got good reviews and people had said it wasn't the typical girl movie. They were right. In the film, the young girl (Abigail Breslin) tries to figure out who her mom is in the story, as told by her father (Ryan Reynolds). He changes the names of the women so it becomes a mystery for her to solve.

What I liked best is the way the film portrayed relationships in a realistic way as opposed to a romantic fairytale. When a relationships fails, we sometimes struggle to define why. There's not always a clear-cut rhyme or reason. Even the two parties involved don't always have an answer. While the predictability element was somewhat lacking, the movie got me thinking about my own failed relationships in a different light so that was a refreshing change for a chick flick-esque film.

Saturday I went downtown with Ebeth and Little M. I hadn't exactly planned on getting drunk but when a few of her male co-workers met up with us, those intentions went out the window. Since men generally encourage females within a ten foot radius to consume copious amounts of alcohol, it's a little hard to stay sober (or relatively sober) when drinks and shots are delivered to you courtesy of someone else's credit card. In fact, it's positively rude not to drink them.

We skipped around to a few different bars and bumped into C-Sharp and P-Funk. It was good to see those guys because it's been a while since I've partied with them. Good to know things never skip a beat since C-Sharp's first words were, "Whose got bigger boobs?" as he asked me to compare the breast size of his present female companion to those of his long-time female friend. We differed on opinion but he'd have a way better idea than me so I give him the benefit of the doubt. I love being considered "one of the guys."

We drank and danced and drank some more. We ended the night at our usual bar where I pissed off P-Funk by nosing into his personal life. I was kind of disappointed he hadn't brought his girlfriend along since I felt like we'd sort of bonded on Halloween, but he said they'd been having problems. Of course I couldn't leave it at that, and had to ask him over and over and over again, "But why?" like an annoying little kid. And following it up with the question every guy's dying to hear, "So when are you gonna buy the ring?" Could I be any more intrusive? Well, we all know the answer to that.

The night didn't quite end there. As me, Ebeth, and Little M were between the 2nd and the 3rd floors of the elevator parking ramp, some guy with his head hung forward proceeded to spew vomit forth like a geyser. And again. Just as Ebeth stepped out of the elevator, it happened yet again, vomit splattered half inside and half outside the elevator, some of the spray landing on Little M's shoe. The two of us then had to quickly exit the elevator (I'm sure there was more where that came from) as we carefully stepped around the piles of puke. All I can say is, it's a good thing I was drunk.

Rambling Updates

It's been a year since my last post. Plenty has happened but I was extra busy at work this week so that really cuts into my blogging time. Also I never used to do much during the week but I suddenly developed a social life at some point. There's just been no time.

Where do I begin? Forgive me if this is an incredibly scatter-brained post. Things with TheGuy have been good. I think. But then again, I go back and forth. I don't know if it's him or if it's just my inability to be happy in a relationship. Being the eternal pessimist that I am, I find it extremely difficult to be happy and stay happy in a relationship. Last weekend I was certain TheGuy was going to break up with me, but then I realized it was just my extreme paranoia and me letting my neurotic tendencies get the best of me. When I'm with him, if he's not as attentive to me as I think he should be at that very moment, I'm convinced it's because he's thinking of breaking it off with me or that he's thinking about another girl or something equally terrible. I don't know why I'm like this but I am. And it takes a very very very long time for me to finally be comfortable in a relationship to the point where I no longer have these pangs of anxiety.

And then there's me. Some of the time I'm not even sure that it's right. Is it all that it could be? Probably not. Could I find someone better suited for me? Certainly. And then when I'm consumed by these thoughts, I contemplate the strength of our relationship. March 10th is the anniversary of the first time we hooked up. Well, technically the second time if you count that one time back in college. But it's been a year and I feel like we've made such little progress. I know of couples who have been together less than a year and found themselves married and pregnant by now. Not that I wish that were me, but you know what I'm saying. I know I said I didn't particularly want a serious relationship before, but as time goes on, I can't help but think of the future and the long-term potential for our relationship. Honestly I can't picture it. So if there's no long-term potential, what's the point of dating? It would just mean that I may be missing out on meeting other prospective men in the meantime.

Yeah, I am rambling. And so it continues.

So Valentine's Day. I never confessed my hatred for the Hallmark holiday which I still feel slightly guilty about but it proved to be a good test of his feelings for me. I have to admit he was kind of cute about it. If I were into that sort of thing, that is. He took me to a place called Broder's. They weren't taking reservations for Valentine's Day but you could call an hour ahead and get put on a waiting list. So we called around 7 but they said we could possibly be seated an hour and a half from then. We decided to just go to the deli part instead. Originally he had suggested getting food to-go from the deli and taking it back to my place for "a picnic." Just the sound of that made me want to throw up a little in my mouth so I was pleased when he asked if I just wanted to eat there once we arrived. It was really good. Of course I am biased because Italian food is my absolute favorite. But I had this spinach lasagna meal that came with salad and bread as well. And of course I had no problem polishing off every last bite. Afterwards we went back to my place and watched Love Actually. I know, kind of sickening. But he'd never seen it before and it's pretty much the best Valentine's Day movie I own. I am not a big fan of the chick flicks but that is one I actually like. How can you not like it?

He also brought a bottle of wine and a gift bag full of candy (no chocolate though cause he knows I don't care much for it) and a card with a Victoria's Secret gift card in it. He said he went to the store with the full intention of buying me something but that only lasted several minutes before he gave up and went for the gift card. Probably a wise choice. I am rather picky and possibly would have felt bad too bad to return something he bought me.

I don't know whether women are supposed to buy men gifts but I didn't. Finding a decent card was bad enough. It's not like I could get him one expressing my love and adoration. Buying cards is a diffult thing for me. For one, I feel as though I could write something better. Sometimes I consider writing my own cards. Anyway I found the most generic Happy Valentine's Day card from me and I got him a super dorky Barack Obama card from Marley since he's big into politics and I couldn't resist. Even writing "Love, WTP" in the card was a struggle. I know me and I know I'm not anywhere near the love stage. Good news is that I'm pretty sure he's not either. But sometimes I find it frustrating that we're not close to that point. At the rate we're going, I feel like I probably wouldn't be at that stage until summer at least, assuming we're still dating then. I don't know. It's definitely been an interesting journey.

Something I meant to blog about a while back was that I met this older black guy at the grand opening party for r. Norman's/Seven. I was there with GC and her friend when he came up and introduced himself to me. I wasn't all that attracted to him but his confidence was sort of alluring. Although he did admit to being nervous about approaching me and asked if I'd noticed him checking me out earlier in the evening. I hadn't. He asked if I had a boyfriend and I said no. Do I? I guess maybe I do but I don't know if I thought that at the time. He asked if he could take me to get a drink the following day for happy hour and I said yes. Why? I don't even know. I had no intention of going out with him, but it had been a long time since a guy had asked for my number. And this guy was definitely classier than any guy I've ever hung out with so I think I was flattered even though I wasn't interested. He asked when the best time to call was so I said after 5.

I bumped into him again as I was leaving and he asked if I done valet. I said no. Then he asked if I needed a ride to my car to which I said no again and scurried across the street to get away before he insisted on giving me a ride. As it turned out, I probably shouldn't have turned down his offer because I couldn't find my car! I'd parked at a meter a few blocks away and got all turned around so I was roaming the streets in the bitter cold in search of my stupid car. It wasn't until I hit the panic button on my car that I realized it was just kitty-corner to me. I don't know how I managed to walk by it several times. Apparently these things happen when you have a buzz.

Sure enough, the next day I received a call from a number my phone didn't recognize at 5:17 sharp. I let it go to voicemail, he left a message, and I deleted it. No call back. The night before, right after he'd asked for my number, GC's friend had said, "That guy is SO going to call you." And she was right. So the following weekend I was out with GC and the girls when I saw that guy at our usual bar. I immediately felt really bad. He came up to me too. He said, "I knew you weren't going to approach me." Then he talked about how hard it is to ask a girl for her number and pointed out that he'd actually called me and there'd been no call back. He said, "You must have a boyfriend." So this time I said yes. I did think it was kind of cocky of him to assume there was another guy in the picture. Because even if there wasn't, I still wouldn't have gone out with someone so forward like that. I could never deal with someone like that.

Anyway, I've got more stories in store but I am heading out for the night. Sorry if there are typos or if things don't make sense. I wrote this really quick and don't have time to go back and proofread like I normally do.

Next Thursday

When TheGuy asked if I wanted to do something "next Thursday," it threw me for a loop. Was he saying he could no longer do something "this Thursday" and that "next Thursday" would work better? It wasn't until I glanced at my calendar that I noticed next Thursday's date, the 14th. Should I tell him of my strong dislike for the holiday?

I told him he has to plan it, but I couldn't bring myself to tell him I'm not a big fan of V-Day. We don't exactly sit around and talk about our feelings. Ha, I've never been one of "those couples." We haven't even officially declared we're together. So really I'm using this absurd fake holiday as a test of our relationship. As much as it kills me to bite my tongue and not make fun of personalized candy hearts in his presence, I'm simply dying of curiosity to see what he will do. I'll just feel a tad guilty after the fact when I admit to hating all hearts, red and white, and that I would've been satisfied with the Burger King drive-thru.

But Once a Year

Valentine's Day is 'round the corner. I loathe this holiday more than Crocs footwear. Take me out for an overpriced meal of pint-sized proportions, buy me roses or better yet, extravagant jewelry, and cater to me, pamper me, and empty your wallet at my expense. Because you were told to. Not because you necessarily wanted to.

Romantic gestures nauseate me. Is romance even real? Chocolate and teddy bears are for suckers. I don't seek gifts of monetary value for validation.

All I need is someone to be there for me, support me, let me know their thinking about me. Daily. Not once a year. An affectionate stroke of the hair or kiss on the shoulder surely require more thought than that $3.49 Hallmark card written by some sap who sits around watching Lifetime television. How personal is that?

The Old Woman is Snoring

I snore ridiculously loud. I could snore most men under the table. It's been said that I "snore like a truck." Others have pondered how someone so little could produce so much noise. Platonic Ex would attempt to muffle the sound by burying me under a mound of pillows or pinching my nose to make it stop. TheGuy resorts to waking me and then racing to fall asleep before the truck starts revving its engine again. One night it didn't work, however, and I found him curled in the fetal position of my living room floor between the coffee table and TV stand.

Last night I learned that weight gain is attributed to snoring, which I was somehow unaware of. I googled it first thing this morning and found this.

DAN RUTZ: Surprising when you think about it as much as women tend to be smaller, that their airways ought to be smaller as well and isn't that one of the risk factors for snoring?

DR. SAMUEL MICKELSON: Well, it is and women's airways are smaller. But, probably one of the largest reasons why women don't snore as much as men has to do with more hormonal factors. With certain hormones, testosterone, men have more fat deposition in areas in and around the airway. So, when a man gains weight, they tend to get a larger neck, whereas, when a woman gains weight, they tend to put the weight on in the hips or in the abdomen and very frequently, have a very thin neck, even though they may be very heavy.

DAN RUTZ: And the fat, presence of fat in the neck, does have an affect on one's snoring?

DR. SAMUEL MICKELSON: Well, it does. The more fat you have in your neck; it makes your neck larger on the outside. But it also presses inward and makes your airway smaller on the inside. More importantly, the fat is actually deposited in the tissues of the throat, so your palate may be longer, the roof of the mouth, that's the palate. Your uvula may become larger. Your tongue may become larger because of fat being deposited within those structures.

Your tongue grows when you gain weight?!? How gross is that? I need to hit the gym immediately! If my neck gets any thicker, my neighbors are going to start filing complaints about my snoring.

Soccer & Stuff

TheGuy and his sister play on an intramural soccer league so Rockstar and I went to check out their game Wednesday night. Having played on the soccer team back in the day, she and I will always have a special place for the sport in our hearts. It was fun to watch even though the dome was freezing! The high was a whopping 1 above zero which made it even colder.

After the game, our presence shook things up during the team's beer bonding time. In the dome snack area, two tables were pulled together so me, TheGuy, Rockstar, and two other guys were at one table while his sister and the rest of the team was at the other table. The other table discussed how they played the game, past/current jobs, and beer. Our table talked about Facebook vs. MySpace, strippers, strip clubs, and grinding at clubs/strip clubs. Every time the other table fell silent, it happened to be just as one of us was saying something wildly inappropriate like, "so she was getting off on the pole?" or "simulated air-fucking."

Everyone on the team was really friendly though (except one biatch who turned around and shot us a dirty look for laughing when TheGuy took a spill during the second half) and kept encouraging us to play at their next game. Rockstar told them she would if I agreed to. But I don't think that's gonna be happening. It's been 14 years since I stepped on a soccer field! I wasn't good back then so I can't even imagine what I'd be like now.

The Thought Counts

Platonic Ex got dumped. I thought they were a pretty solid match, but in the end, his cynicism and callousness proved to be too much. His insensitivity isn't intentional. I know that sounds crazy, but it's true. He's just incredibly clueless when human interaction is involved. You'd think he was raised by wolves.

Things went from bad to worse when he failed to give her a thoughtful Christmas present. She'd told him many times that Christmas was the only holiday she cared about and that he didn't have to get her anything for her birthday or any other time except Christmas.

For his birthday, she took him to dinner and arranged for a ghost tour because he'd expressed interest in haunted houses at the time. For Christmas, she gave him a wine seminar/tour because he's big into wine now. When she realized he wasn't going to make it to the scheduled wine event due to a work commitment, all he said in reply was, "Oh, that sucks."

Not to mention he failed to give her something on December 25th, simply saying, "I'll have to have your present shipped to your house." When I asked why he failed to get her a a gift, he said he had one all picked out online but hadn't ordered it. His thoughtful gift: a bookshelf. He said a bookshelf was thoughtful because she loved to read and her bookshelf couldn't hold all her books. This is what I mean when I say he's totally clueless.

After dating a social retard for so long, I'm surprised by many of the small acts of common courtesy performed by TheGuy. He holds doors, lets me order first at restaurants, he apologizes, he says "thank you." Last weekend I laughed at him when he thanked me for driving down to his house to hang out.

Believe it or not, these are all things Platonic Ex never did. I remember constantly telling him, "You don't even care!" And he didn't. Yet I can't help but feel sorry for him. He told me his most recent ex got really upset and thought his detached ways were due to his malicious nature, which I know for a fact, to not be true.

When the Dust Begins to Settle

I think I smoothed things over. The worst part was telling TheGuy my reasoning for asking if he was on a date. It went something like this: "Well, first I went through your email and then I stalked your potential love interest on Facebook and read through all the posts on her wall." That's totally normal behavior, right?

He said it wasn't a date and I believe him. But I made sure to point out the obvious fact LP was hoping it was a date or sort-of-a-date. I asked if he knew she liked him and he said he didn't think she did. To prove my claim, what else could I do but have him read the post from LP's friend saying, "How'd stuff go, plans to do it again???"

If I had to do it all over again, would I? I don't know. He expressed his annoyance of me accusing him of going on a date and even more annoyance of me going through his email. I don't believe my lame attempt to defend myself did much good: "I swear I didn't click on any of your emails! I just saw the beginning text part!" I never actually accused him of going on a date though, I merely asked. In fact, my exact text was: "At the risk of sounding paranoid, did you go on a date on Thursday?" After all, I'm an English major. I choose my words wisely.

So last night I offered to take him to dinner and then we went to his house and watched some season three of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. He has the episodes downloaded on his computer, which I am terrified to even touch now because he'll probably assume I am checking his browsing history or something equally stalkerish (not to say he would be in the wrong). I'm pretty sure his web browser no longer opens up to his email inbox and never will so long as I'm around. See, this is what happens when you fail to heed your own advice.

Oh, the Irony

After claiming not to be a jealous person, what do I do but turn around and do exactly that? I can't help it that I snoop. My mom tells me my grandpa used to get really upset that from a young age, I would rifle through his drawers and he'd have to reorganize his belongings after all my trips to his house.

It started with an email. Last Wednesday when I was at TheGuy's house, I wanted to check something online. Tortuously tempting me, he has his web browser set to open up his gmail account. Given he was not in the room, I couldn't help but let my eyes linger at his inbox in search of female names. I saw a girl's name I recognized from college, LP. I didn't allow myself to click on the email thread but the text I saw said, "Ok Old Chicago sounds great!" I got really quiet when he came back in the room but I didn't say anything about the email. While I'd never heard him mention her name, I figured they'd either been friends since college or recently met at a party since they have a lot of mutual friends. Maybe the latter was more likely since I had noticed they'd only recently become friends on MySpace/Facebook.

TheGuy and I hung out Friday night and everything seemed normal. When I got home Saturday afternoon, I decided to do some stalking on Facebook. I looked at LP's page and saw that one of her friends had written something suspicious on her wall. This totally annoying friend wrote a post the length of a short story saying she was on cloud nine because she'd had the "best first date ever" and rambling on and on about how wonderful her life is. Then towards the end, it occurred to her to ask, "How'd your stuff go, plans to do it again???" She'd written the post Friday morning and Thursday night had been Old Chicago night.

It didn't take long for the reels to start spinning. I went so far as to wonder if TheGuy had asked me if I wanted to hang out Wednesday last week in case I asked if he wanted to do something Thursday since he apparently already had plans with some girl.

So then I went into a texting frenzy asking if he went on a date on Thursday. And then I got really pissed when he didn't respond and went into drama queen mode. I shut off my phone and bailed on my plans to go out for the evening. I don't know why I get like that, but I do. The next morning, I saw he eventually texted back saying "No, why do you think I went on a date?" Plus a bunch more texts where he got really annoyed that I was ignoring him. We still haven't talked about "the date" thing yet, but I'm sure he's dying to hear about how I'm a stalker/psychotic freak.

TheGuy and I had planned to hang out last night until I somehow lost my keys at my parents' house. Seriously, how does that happen? I am curious to hear his explanation. I mean, even if he didn't consider it "a date," LP obviously has a thing for him, since LP's friend was so interested to know if they had "plans to do it again" that it required the use of three question marks.

Jealous Much?

About a month ago at dinner, Lo told an amusing story about her roommate, Missy. Missy has been doing Match.com and during one of her recent first dates, the guy told a story that involved some of his female friends, to which Missy said, "I don't believe in men and women having friends of the opposite sex." Her date said, "So you wouldn't marry a guy that had girls as friends?" She shot back, "Why are you bringing up marriage? Is it because you want to marry me?"

The following day, Missy relayed the conversation to Lo, and in all seriousness asked, "So what should I do if he calls? Should I answer?" "No," Lo said, knowing full well a call would never be made in the first place.

Jealousy is an ugly emotion. I try to be realistic when it comes to jealousy. Just because you've chosen to be in a monogamous relationship shouldn't mean you're no longer allowed to have friends of the opposite sex or find others attractive. That's crazy. And would never happen. If he/she tells you otherwise, they lie.

One pattern in my dating history is that I've never dated a notoriously jealous guy. Not even remotely close. While I can't speak on behalf of men, I believe some women find it chivalrous when their men get jealous. To me, jealousy screams insecurity and lack of trust on the part of the possessive half. I would never have the patience or tolerance to put up with that constant mistrust.

If someone is gonna cheat, they're gonna cheat. There's not much you can do about it. When you're growing up, parents and teachers repeatedly tell you not to drink or do drugs, which only piques your curiosity and makes you want to rebel even more. I apply the same logic when it comes to jealousy: the more you try to control someone, the more resentful they'll become and it will only fuel their need for secrecy. The way I see it, it will do more harm than good and potentially drive a huge wedge in your relationship.

Daily Reminders

Daily reminders of your single status. No wonder people think being single sucks.

Exhibit A

The Dumbest Woman Alive works in the office of my apartment building. DMA has worked there since I moved in four and a half years ago with my friend from college and Platonic Ex as my roommates. In all this time, DMA and I have maybe said a total of fifteen words to one another.

Last month I received a package so I was forced to communicate with the half-wits in the leasing office. DMA retrieved my package from the locked storage area and as she handed it to me, said, "I haven't seen your boyfriend around lately." Taken aback, I replied, "Oh, well we broke up a long time ago." She said, "You did? I'm sorry to hear that." Considering it took ten times of meeting her for her to recognize me, it shocked me she had put two and two together and recall that I had a boyfriend.

On Friday, I had another lovely encounter with DMA, as I went to pick up the flowers my friend sent me. DMA got this knowing look on her face and said with great enthusiasm, "Flowers? There must be a new man!" So then I had to explain they were from a friend in lieu of losing my dog. It's not like I was sent a dozen roses. Why this sudden interest in my love life? Is this what married people do? Sit around and fantasize about the dating life of single people??

Exhibit B

I received the following email yesterday from a male friend of mine:

Hello all,

I need to know if any of you are in serious relationships. Seating at the wedding will be limited, but we would like to be able to allow those in serious relationships to bring their significant others.

Is this not the most insulting thing you've ever read? Okay, you've probably encountered worse, but it's pretty appalling. While we've drifted apart in the last few years, this is someone I once considered one of my best friends. And the other guys copied on the email (I was the only female) have been friends with him since elementary school so they have even more reason to be offended.

When you receive an invitation to a wedding, it should be an honor. But this makes me feel like I'm an inconvenience to the bride and groom, occupying one of their coveted seats.

I haven't figured out the proper response as of yet. I don't mind going solo, but it's the principle! Really, if I'm not a good enough friend to allow me the courtesy of bringing a guest, why invite me at all? I'd rather not attend thank you.

This has been my favorite response thus far:

"I'm seriously dating a lemur. Can I bring my lemur?"



To think I was actually looking forward to attending their wedding...

On a related note, TheGuy recently received a wedding invitation that was addressed solely to him, with the absence of "+ guest." Has this ever happened to any of you? Is this becoming standard now?

Yet again, single people are made to feel like outcasts. Don't even get me started on Valentine's Day...

The Longest Line

Yesterday after work, I drove straight to the mall. Not for any particular reason other than I felt like spending money. That, and the fact there's way too many McFatties at the gym taking up all the treadmills in hopes they'll actually stick to their New Years' resolutions this time around. I give 'em another week at most.

It turned out the mall was a wise decision since I found some skinny clothes! No, I didn't drop a size. If anything, I've gained due to my slacker workout schedule and doubling the number of meals I eat out. Yet I managed to find a pair of jeans and three tops that make me look thinner than I actually am! Finding clothes that flatter your figure is better than finding amazing deals. In my opinion anyway.

While I loved the jeans, they were a couple inches too long so I took them to get hemmed at this shop in the mall. They said they could have it done in an hour so I went to a couple more stores where my newly purchased clothes set off the alarm in both places. A sales associate assisted me in searching for unremoved security devices but we never found anything. She profusely apologized for the inconvenience, but after that, I decided not to venture into any more stores.

With thirty-five minutes to go, I headed to Panera. When I arrived, there were eight people before me in line and one young woman working the register. For whatever reason, this woman took her job seriously. An elderly couple stood before her.

Young Woman: Welcome. What can I get for you today?

Old Woman: I'll have the Sierra Turkey sandwich and the chicken noodle soup.

Young Woman: Would you like the you-pick-two?

Old Woman: What is that?

Young Woman: You get half a sandwich and soup or salad.

Old Woman: That sounds good.

Young Woman: Would you like the Sierra Turkey on the focaccia bread?

Old Woman: What other kinds of bread do you have?

Young Woman: We have sourdough, tomato basil, whole grain, honey wheat, french, and ciabatta.

Old Woman: Mmm...well I don't know...I guess I'll have the wheat one.

Young Woman: Okay. And would you like the chipotle mayonnaise, field greens, and red onions that come on it?

Old Woman: Sure.

Young Woman: Would you like anything to drink?

Old Woman: I'll take coffee.

Young Woman: In a mug or a to-go cup?

Old Woman: Oh, I don't know.

Young Woman: [presents the mug as a visual] Is this for here or to go?

Old Woman: For here.

Young Woman: So you probably want the mug.

Old Woman: Uh, ok.

Young Woman: And the coffee is located directly behind you. Did you want to add a cookie for 99 cents?

Old Woman: No thanks.

Young Woman: And sir, what can I get for you?

The entire conversation played out again with the old woman's husband including the part about whether it was "for here" or "to go." Keep in mind there were long pauses as the old people stopped to think before they answered all the young woman's questions. When it finally came time to ring up the next customer, a middle-aged woman, she inquired as to what the tomato basil bread tasted like, so the young woman told her she was "bad at describing it" so instead offered to give the woman a sample, which required her to leave the register so she could slice part of the bread.

For those that know me, you know I have a low tolerance for annoyances. When you're the only one working and there's a line of ten hungry people, would it kill you to skip reciting every ingredient on a stupid sandwich?!? You're not at fault if the customer fails to read the posted menu! It's a good thing someone else stepped up to take my order because I seriously wanted to punch that woman in the face.

When you Know or Don't Know

After my mom delivered the sad news, TheGuy came over and hung out with me. I thought I'd cry in front of him, but I didn't shed a tear, successfully dodged that bullet. I hate crying. I especially hate letting others see me cry.

Last night we grabbed dinner at Sawatdee. He summed it up best when he said, "On all accounts, that was the worst Thai food experience of my life." Not only was the food a major disappointment, but the service was equally horrendous. I ordered the pad prig which is basically a stir-fry with green and red peppers, mushrooms, and onions. It was okay, but nothing to write home about for $12. He ordered the pad thai, requesting medium spiciness, but it was bland and greasy. The Diet Coke I ordered never arrived until I asked a second time and when it came time to pay our bill, our server was nowhere to be found. As a result, her lack of service caused us to be late for The Wild game.

TheGuy and I have begun to spend a lot more time together. In the last twelve days, I've seen him eight of those days. It actually feels like we're dating now. I still have no expectations or any idea as to what the future may hold. Maybe I'm skeptical because it's taken so long for us to reach this point. If it's right, do you always know from the beginning? I've never had luck with that before. In the past, when I met someone I really liked, I became so neurotic that I wound up sabotaging the relationship because I was terrified of getting hurt. I'm still trying to figure out what sort of balance I need to maintain a healthy, non-dysfunctional relationship.

Sad

In grief-stricken news, my family's fourteen-year-old golden retriever passed away. Having eaten very little in recent days, we knew the end was near. My mom let him out in the front yard Tuesday afternoon only to watch him collapse several times until she finally went out there to help him back inside where he fell once more in the laundry room and stayed as she cradled him in her arms until he died.

Devastating as it may be, it helps knowing it was his time to go. He lived a long, good life and we were fortunate to have him for as long as we did. For the most part, I've moved beyond the sadness and now it's just a matter of coming to terms with the fact he's gone. The next time I go home, he won't be there to greet me with a smile and wag of his tail. Say what you will about dogs not being human, but his compassion and devotion to his family would question the world's biggest skeptic.

Road Maps

Last Saturday I went out for a friend's birthday. Out of eight women, the birthday girl and I were the only single ones. Four were married, two will be married this summer, and of the six, two have babies. More of my friends are married than single these days, but I've never felt so outnumbered. It was quite the reality check.

I never had a date in high school, but at least I wasn't alone. Countless conversations took place between my friend and I about how it didn't matter that we never had boyfriends in high school because we'd go to college where there would be a plethora of smart, eligible men. The latter was true. College was foolproof. Or so I thought. Besides, the dating gods owed me for being forced to sit at home on prom night. But then I never even dated anyone from my college (when I was in school, that is).

I've never understood those women that declare a "cut-off age" for marriage. If I'm not married by the time I'm 26, I'll throw myself off a bridge. That's a hell of a lot of pressure to put upon oneself. Though I never had a timetable, I always kind of figured I'd be married by the time I was 30, but I've come to realize the odds are no longer in my favor. I'd have to date my future husband for at least one year, if not more, and then we'd need a year to plan the wedding. So I basically have 10 months max to meet the man I'm going to spend the rest of my life with.

This is not the end of the world here people. If I'm still single at 30 and by society's standards, that makes me a crazy old cat lady destined to die alone, so be it. I don't need marriage to define me as a person. If it happens, it happens. It won't do any good to force it or have unrealistic expectations.

I finally got around to seeing Juno last weekend. This quote sticks out in my mind, when Juno says to her father: "I need to know that it's possible that two people can stay happy together forever."

Nod of Approval

If any of you were wondering, I decided to give TheGuy his Christmas present -- the Dwight Schrute bobblehead I ordered online about a decade ago. And at the risk of blowing my aloof cover, I told him the truth: that I'm a neurotic fool who didn't want to give him anything unless he got me something so he wouldn't feel obligated to buy me some pity gift. Because really, the more psychotic a guy thinks you are, the more endearing he'll find you.



p.s. cats love Dwight's bobbing head.

Imaginary Line in the Sand

The post that was long overdue...

I'm going to refrain from sharing the details of my friend's wedding. It'd be different if it were my own, but since it's not, it isn't really my place. That being said, I will say this: the ceremony was beautiful, the bride stunning, and the reception looked amazing.

Now on to the sensationalized details of what is a very dull life. Prior to the ceremony, I kept checking my phone to see if TheGuy had decided to bail at the last minute. He'd mentioned not feeling well the day before so I thought perhaps he was setting up some sort of alibi. No such text arrived but I never saw TheGuy or Platonic Ex during the ceremony. Afterwards, I received confirmation through a mutual friend that Platonic Ex did indeed attend (he was rumored to be a no-show) and that was followed by an ambiguous text from TheGuy letting me know he was on his way to the reception.

When we arrived at the reception, I immediately saw TheGuy talking to my dad. Unfortunately for him, that was the only person he knew aside from the bride and one of the fellow bridesmaids. I went up to say hello, quickly spotting my mom chatting up Platonic Ex and his good friend RWD nearby. Not five minutes later, leave it to dear old Mom to make an uncomfortable situation worse by leading Platonic Ex over to us and saying, "TheGuy, have you met Platonic Ex?" This goes down as one of the most awkward moments of my life. They shook hands and Platonic Ex said, "We've actually met before." TheGuy said, "Oh? We have?" To my knowledge, the two hadn't met, but it's certainly possible. Back in college, we went to parties hosted by TheGuy and his roommates which Platonic Ex very well may have gone to with us, but I don't recall such an introduction being made.

I don't know what all my mom said throughout the evening (my friends probably spared me the humiliation), but I do know she gave Platonic Ex a long, sappy spiel about how he'd been a part of our family for four years and that he's always welcome in her home. Even going so far as to say, "No matter what time of day. I don't care if it's 3 in the morning -- you know how to get in our house." And then she was lamenting the travesty of our breakup to the parents of my friends. That was a year ago Mom -- get over it!

Though I never uttered the words, everyone assumed TheGuy was my boyfriend and I heard, "This is WTP's boyfriend" tossed around on more than one occasion. And I never bothered to correct anyone. What would I say? Actually, we're dating but we haven't reached that stage yet.

An old friend from my days of waitressing put me on the spot when she turned to me and TheGuy and said, "So how long have you guys been dating?" Dead silence. She continued, "You've been dating a long time, right?" I shook my head and was quick to reply, "No." Then I added, "You're probably thinking of my ex-boyfriend," whom I was dating during the year and a half we worked together. But she said, "Nooo. So how long has it been?" I turned to TheGuy who flashed a stupid smirk so I knew I was on my own. Maybe part of him was curious to see what I would say. I finally said, "A few months." I think it was several months ago that we actually started going on dates. I don't know where she got the idea we'd been dating for a long time, but "a few months' seemed to satisfy her that he was indeed "the guy I'd been dating for a 'long' time." I still say she was confused.

It was blatantly obvious Platonic Ex and RWD were segregated from the rest of "our group" all evening. They were seated on the opposite side of the room and they stayed on that side for most of the night. Once the majority of guests had cleared out, they eventually moved to seats beside the dance floor and I danced with RWD for a song. After the reception, the remaining crew headed to a dive bar across the street where the segregation took place yet again: us versus them. Knowing my date's presence was the reason they couldn't socialize with the rest of us made me feel terribly guilty so TheGuy and I left early.

In talking to my friend the next day, she reported that as soon as we left, Platonic Ex and RWD made their way to the rest of the group, which is exactly what I knew would happen. What I never would have predicted, however, is that Platonic Ex told my friend ever so matter-of-factly there was an 80% chance he and I would get back together. I've had days to process this and still have no idea what led him to this conclusion. It was good to see him, but it ends there. Perhaps he was just reeling from a recent falling-out with his girlfriend. I guess he told everyone he got on her last nerve while they vacationed overseas during the holidays.