Bleak Weather Outlook

In Minnesota, it's that annoying time of year when you're in between winter and spring attire. One day you're basking in the glow of the warm sun and the next day you're scraping snow off your car. Thus the game of tuck your winter coat away in the closet and dig it back out becomes part of your routine. Many days, it's too warm for a winter jacket, but it's also too cold for a spring jacket. What's a girl to do?

Relationship-wise, I'm in a similar spot. I question my own judgment as I continue to spend time with TheGuy. Frankly I enjoy the companionship, but I needn't be reminded of my complete lack of trust in him. Regardless of whether LP is with someone else now is beside the point. The fact remains TheGuy is/was (?) proactively pursuing other women when I [naively] assumed he'd at least have the decency to break it off with me first.

Then there's the flip side. If you know me, there's always a flip side. In an ironic twist, I find that I'm actually more willing to open up to TheGuy. If that doesn't exemplify how messed up I am when it comes to relationships, I don't know what does. Since I've already gone through the whole betrayal part and know what he's capable of, I feel much less vulnerable. From this point on, anything either of us says or does pales in comparison. In my mind, it doesn't get any more deceitful than what he did. I know it was wrong of me to look at his email but I can't say I'm sorry I did.

GC and I have discussed doing Match. We'll see.

Relationship Forecast: Shit storm advisory effective immediately with 90% chance of precipitation. Visibility zero.

Fuzzy

I met GC for happy hour Friday after work. The bar was pretty packed by the time we got there so as we searched for two seats at the bar, a bald, black gentleman called out my name twice, more audibly the second time. He and his blonde male friend were seated at the bar.

At first glance, I had zero recollection. Noting my blank stare, he said, "Do you remember me?" It took several seconds but then it dawned on me. I'd met him the night of T.'s birthday. He had been the second guy to approach me that night, Stephen. When I met him, he had a knit hat pulled down over his ears so I was thrown off by the bald head. The 5 or 6 drinks I'd had in my system at the time also may or may not have played a factor. Stephen was the guy I thought was too good-looking for me. GC was dumbstruck by my immediate rejection of Stephen, as she said time and time again, "WTP, that guy was HOT." T. was of the same opinion. Stephen stopped by our booth and made small talk before he left, but that was that.

GC and I took advantage of the 1/2 price martini special. Four martinis and one rum and coke later, I was in bed by 9 pm.

New Pawn

Here I am, bored at work, so I decide to check out LP's Facebook page for the 1,457th time. In response to her friend's post from yesterday, at 8:21 am today, LP writes back, providing updates on her new job and life in general. Included is this statement:

"also, i'm seeing someone, which is exciting... how bout you? what's new in your life?"

So I thought she was getting back together with her ex, but perhaps I was mistaken. I feel like she would've mentioned her ex's name of 4 years had it been the case. Could there be a new man in the picture? Could it be TheGuy? I guess I can't rule it out indefinitely, but no, I don't see that as a likely possibility. I wonder if TheGuy has seen that post yet...

By the way, I'm going to the gym with him again tonight. Why? Because I'm sick in the head. Don't you people know that by now?!? SICK!

In Limbo

My head has been reeling the past few days. I'm suffering dizzy spells due to all the spinning.

Buried deep, there is hurt. Why can't I tap into that?

I know it's crazy for me to think there's anything worth salvaging from this relationship when there wasn't much of one to begin with. Nonetheless it's the lost time, the lost memories, the lost feelings that I have a hard time letting slip away. Where do they go? Do they get filed away in archived folders in your mind? Do those feelings get replaced once you enter a new relationship? Or in time, do they dissipate altogether?

I know it's time to let go, I'm just not there yet...

p.s. Note to self: Under no circumstances should you date another guy friend!

Loser Central

Yesterday I was talking to Stripes over by Curly Sue's cube. She was getting ready to go to lunch but suddenly stopped short when she discovered her husband had stolen the cash from her wallet.

Not Smart

Apparently in my world, when you want to break up with someone, you spend more time with them. That's logical, right? In my defense, I'm perfectly aware I'm a dumbass. Last night I went over to TheGuy's house and we went to the gym. I ran three miles on the treadmill while he walked -- he hurt his foot while trying to get the Christmas tree on the Christmas tree stand way back in December and the injury he suffered, possibly a fracture, still hasn't healed.

After time on the treadmill, I had this tight, nervous feeling in my stomach (similar to when I snooped through his email) as he led me to the weight area. I've mentioned before my severe intimidation when it comes to lifting weights.

The first thing he did was a squat with the bar rested on his shoulders. When it was my turn, I wimped out. The bar just seemed so heavy for my weak arms and I envisioned myself squatting down, not being able to get back up again, and tumbling over backwards. Whether my lack of muscle or lack of confidence is the real issue, I guess I'll never know 'til I try.

Then it was on to the bench press. I've attempted to bench the bar two or three times in my lifetime, with a success rate of zero. But last night I managed to do it -- 2 sets consisting of 5 reps each, with a pause in between. Never mind the fact my inability to hold the bar steady proved how much of a struggle it was. I kept stopping to ask TheGuy if people were laughing at me and he always said "no" but I don't know that I believe him.

Then we did some free weights. He grabbed the 10 lb. pound weights which I immediately exchanged for 5 lbs. I felt really silly standing before the full-length mirrors with my 5 lb weights while there were all these buff guys around me. That is why I would never do that kind of thing on my own. I guess that feeling of self-consciousness is something you just have to get over.

As for the situation, I know it's clearer than crystal, but I think maybe I am getting some sort of cheap thrill contemplating all the different ways it could play out...

Well, Now What?

Because I'm a sneaky person, who knows the nature of their kind better than one of their own? I've always had subtle indicators and gut feelings that TheGuy is very similar to me in that regard. My suspicions were confirmed this weekend. Friday night TheGuy and I had date night. We grabbed dinner downtown and went to see The Bank Job. The next morning, we got up and enjoyed a lazy afternoon, as we do, lounging on the couch watching TV, ordering food, and perusing the internets.

He spent some time looking at his usual websites. In particular, there are three or four video game forums he regularly posts on and visits daily. I lump all the websites into one by referring to it as "dork.com." Mistakenly for him, he also decided to check his Gmail, Facebook, and MySpace on my computer. I believe he was wary about doing so prior to discovering my stalker side. By the grace of God, or more likely of the two, my laptop battery running out of juice and consequently shutting down my computer, he forgot to log out of all three.

When I plugged my computer back in, I went to the Google homepage and noticed his email address in the upper right-hand corner. Seeing as how I'd planned to check my Gmail, I quickly put that plan on the back burner and went on to check the Big Brother sites I frequent. Thankfully, he didn't check dork.com one last time before he left. Not two seconds after his departure, I made a beeline for the computer. Somewhere in this timeline, I did stop for a moment and think about the fact that maybe I would find something I'd rather not know.

For instance, a while back, I found a weird outgoing text message he'd sent to his friend about participating in some sort of contest with his ex. Obviously it wasn't incriminating enough to bring it up or even be upset by it, but after that, I resisted the urge to check his phone every chance I got. I realized that by seeing that message, it had done me no good other than got me speculating over something I would never know the answer to. And I talk to Platonic Ex almost daily so I could never be upset over someone being friends with their ex. I still wish I knew what kind of contest it was though...

Anyway, after the last time I saw that email about the girl I went to college with, LP, I knew I'd be ridden with regret if I failed to do a follow-up check when the opportunity arose. And it turns out my instincts were right. TheGuy and LP exchange emails pretty regularly. I had to skim but from what I saw, the subject matter was everyday stuff. However there was one email where he was asking her to do something. "Not too sound too overeager, but is there any day next week that works for you to hang out? The only days I do have something going on is Tueday and Wednesday." She wrote back and said the only day that worked for her was Tuesday. She didn't offer any other days to do something.

It's evident to me she's doing her best to gently blow him off by the length and tone of her emails. His are really long and use proper capitalization and punctuation whereas hers are much shorter and no uppercase letters to be found. Minor detail, I know, but isn't life about the minor details?

Things really got interesting when I looked at his sent messages. There was one to a friend of his titled "The Plan" where TheGuy asked his friend why he hadn't come up with a plan yet like he said he would for TheGuy to get this girl that hung around her ex bf all the time. His friend's advice was to be "the nice guy." Yeah, that should seal the deal! Here's where another part of the story comes into play. I didn't exactly know LP in college but I knew of her. And I knew of her boyfriend who she apparently dated for like 4 years. Ever since I realized TheGuy had hung out with LP, I've been regularly stalking her Facebook page. Her page and that of her ex-boyfriend. He had been dating some other girl but a couple weeks ago, his relationship status changed to non-existent and all pics of him and his former flame were removed.

Meanwhile, LP has posted messages on her ex-boyfriend's wall. And you can just tell she wants to get back together with him. Apparently, he watched her cat one weekend so she thanked him for that and talked about that and just this past weekend, they attended some concert together. In the last few days, her relationship status which previously said "single" has now been completely removed from her profile. Typically when people do this it's when they're in the "in-between" stage where they're not "officially" together yet. So my guess is it won't be long before both their profiles say "in a relationship with [insert appropriate name]."

Freaked out after this discovery, I immediately elicited the advice of friends and in the process, successfully draining the battery of my cell phone. My friends told me I should NOT tell TheGuy I looked at his email. Good thing I called them first, for my initial reaction was to do just that, but I held off until I had the proper time to weigh all my options.

Saturday night came and as I suspected, I received two texts and one phone call from TheGuy saying he was going out with some friends and asking if he could crash at my place. I ignored the texts and call, and then fifteen minutes later, I got a text that said, "Ok, well I am planning on it, so let me know if it is a problem." My passive aggressive response was to do nothing. I'm not easily angered or rattled, but when I am, I have to act impulsively or my rage begins to fade. Letting all that time pass between the email and going out time (approximately 8 hours) definitely released some of those feelings of resentment. As much as I wanted to blow him off, a part of me has grown so accustomed to our usual routine of going out separately with our friends and then passing out drunk together at my place that I didn't want to give that up just yet. So I let him come over. I was sober, he was drunk, but it would've been interesting had I been drunk because the chances I would've sort of accidentally brought up the email would have been high. We ate pizza and watched The Office until he began to pass out.

On Sunday, I went home for Easter and he went to brunch with his sister. After I got done with Easter, I was bored so I asked if he wanted to go see Horton Hears a Who since that had been our equally alternate Friday night movie option. Pretty cute movie by the way. Then we just hung out at his house. He'd done some digging and found the book Catcher in the Rye for me because he almost fell over backward in his chair when he realized I was an English major who'd never read it (along with other classics).

I have absolutely no idea what I'm going to do. I was all set to break up with him but then I missed that window of opportunity while I was riled up. Either way, I've known this relationship was doomed from the start. It didn't start off in the most traditional way and while we've had our ups and downs, I've been on the fence throughout the whole thing. I enjoy spending time with him but I am not in love with him nor do I feel that it would happen anytime soon. I have never doubted the fact that there are others out there with whom I'd be more compatible with. I am guessing he feels the same way about me. I have to admit I felt a sense of relief after finding this out because it gave me a strong valid reason not to pursue things further. In a way, that's what I was looking for: a sign one way or the other.

Yet I also can be the typical girl who only dwells on the good parts of the relationship when it comes to the breaking-up part. I'm not cut out for breaking up with people even if I know it's for the better. Mostly I hate losing the devoted companionship you once had, and then having to fill that newfound void in your life. For now, I guess I am toying with my abundance of options (I've got a few in mind) which could most certainly blow up in my face, but what does it matter now?

In an attempt to make myself feel better, I texted that Jason guy when I was out on Saturday and found myself at the same bar where we met. He texted back right away and said that unfortunately, he was in Milwaukee for the weekend. We exchanged a few more texts and then he said we should text one another next time we're both out. Still no recollection of what he looks like since I was wearing full-on beer goggles. If we ever meet up, I'll have to request he wear a Hello, My Name Is name tag so I can identify him. And if he turns out to be ugly as hell, it will make for good blogging.

One Step Away From Jerry Springer

I've got an update on Curly Sue. Surely, this will come as a surprise to...no one. Last weekend she was enjoying a peaceful afternoon at home when a strange woman walked into her home saying she was looking for Douchebag Husband. Well, it didn't take long for Curly Sue to fit together the pieces of the oh-so-mysterious puzzle. Turns out, Douchebag Husband has been sleeping with this woman for a year now (she claims to have no knowledge he was married) so Curly Sue told her, "Hey, this man has no job, no money, no car. You can have him."

For everyone's sake, let's hope she goes through with the divorce this time.

Curly Sue remains pessimistic about the odds of Boris leaving his wife, but hey, this could be a whole new ballgame now that she's a single woman on the prowl. Meow!!

No Hankie? No Problem!

Ok, ok. I'm left with no choice but to blog since MD refused to believe me when I said "maybe I would."

The other day over my lunch break, I made a special trip to Target to pick up a few miscellaneous items. As I made my way to the front door, careful to avoid piles of newly acquired snow mixed with slush, I noticed a man of medium build in a black stocking cap shoveling the snow along the curb. He paused for a moment, set the shovel to one side, and lifted the bottom of his long-sleeved cotton tee and blew his nose directly INTO it. Believe you me, this was no wipe of the sleeve. We're talking a full-on blow with the appropriate sound effects and all.

I don't know what kind of household this man was raised in, but when has it ever been socially acceptable to use your shirt as a kleenex?!? To make matters worse, I saw him again beside the cart corral as I was heading to my car, fifty dollars poorer than when I arrived, and there was a wet spot the size of a softball on the bottom right corner of his grey shirt.

My She's All That Moment

It's been so long I don't know where to begin. Here's to hoping you all had black-out drunk St. Patty's Days! Mine? Not so much. Ebeth and I went downtown and met up with the usual crew. The only difference from any other Saturday night were those cheesy green beads around my neck. Early on in VIP, I recognized a guy I graduated with from high school. I'm always surprised when I see people from high school downtown. I didn't particularly enjoy high school and ridiculous as it sounds, I like to think of the downtown area as "my turf." For the most part, it seems most everyone I graduated with is married or tends to stick to the bars south of the river, but occasionally, I bump into former classmates. This is why I was so upset when I realized Ugly High School Snot lived in my apartment. Although I'm pleased to report she has vacated the premises as of several months ago and has returned to the southern suburbs (what would I do without MySpace?).

I never said one word to this guy in high school. He was the embodiment of your stereotypical jock -- captain of the football team, charming, boyish good looks. And of all the things to wear on the eve of St. Patrick's Day, what does he show up to the bar in? A tan suit. Tan blazer, open with blue button-down shirt, and tan slacks. Yes, in March, the snowiest month in Minnesota. Yet it still looks sharp on him. Not that I ever thought he was hot -- he's way too cocky for my taste. No, my heart only has room for one cocky bad boy as evidenced by my 7th grade journal entries. Yet I couldn't help but feel slightly giddy when he passed by me, stopped and said I looked familiar. Even though we had speech class together where we were required to stand alone at the head of the class and engage the audience try not to put them to sleep with your articulate, eloquent [mono]tone, I never expected him to recognize me. But he did. I suddenly found myself willing to overlook the fact he failed to recall we went to high school together when he somehow remembered my name, as if it just appeared out of thin air or in some bizarre premonition. I'm not sure who was more shocked. For that instant, I suddenly felt like I was back in high school. Or watching a made for TV movie where the popular guy knows the shy girl's name. Yup, that was me.

That's all I've got time for now. Try to post more later.

Heating Up

Curly Sue and Boris' torrid love affair is full-blown. And they're not very covert. With the heavy flirting and frequent visits, everyone (including their bosses) has their suspicions.

I was told, "Boris is in love with Curly Sue." My take: Boris is a control freak. He texts her when he gets up in the morning, when he leaves for work, and then he calls and talks to her during the commute to work, and calls her work phone once she gets to her desk in the morning. They have lunch together every day so I'm sure there are more calls/IM's/visits in between. Then the calls and texts start all over again when he leaves work for the day.

Curly Sue gave everyone quite a scare yesterday. She and her co-workers went to a Chinese place for lunch that served seafood. Seeing as how she's allergic to seafood, she didn't order any, but the restaurant must have cooked her food in the same pan or something, for she had a serious allergic reaction that called for the use of an EpiPen and emergency trip to the doctor. Thankfully, she was okay, but her boss ordered her to go home and rest for the day.

One guess as to who gave her a ride home. Yes, indeed. Curly Sue, her husband, and Boris spent the afternoon together. How awkward would that be?!? Apparently, Boris and Curly Sue's husband have met before when they've gone out to a bar, but STILL. It's only a matter of time...

Oh, and when I asked why Curly Sue's husband didn't pick her up, I learned they share one car and there's a good possibility he's not even a licensed driver because he got a DUI and I highly doubt he paid the $600 to get his license re-instated. It's not like he has a job he needs to get to!

Work It Out

After taking a long hiatus from working out, and noticing my shirts and pants puckering in places they were once roomy, I forced myself to go to the gym last night. It was a crummy workout, as to be expected when you slack off for months. I ran three miles, pausing several times for various reasons such as water break, muscle cramp, or to mop up my drool from staring at the hot personal trainer. Still gorgeous as ever.

The thing I was most pleased about was how much more energized I felt after the gym. Some days after work, I get home, plop down on the couch, stuff my face, watch Young & the Restless, and stalk my junior high crushes on the internet. Yesterday after I worked out, I went to Old Navy and bought a couple pair of running shorts, got home and showered, made myself a salad for dinner, watched Young & the Restless, cleaned up a bit, made my lunch for today, and did some ironing. I didn't even feel sleepy like I normally do. For most people, this is probably a typical day, but that was super productive for my lazy ass.

This is the worst part -- trying to get back into the swing of things when you're out of shape, but once you're over the hump and you've integrated exercise into your daily routine, it's not so bad and I fully intend to do so. Plus I am planning to sign up for Twin Cities Marathon again so the sooner, the better.

When You Least Expect It

This hilarious post by Catherinette reminded me of the first time TheGuy and I hooked up last year. It was 11 o'clock on a Saturday night when he texted to see what I was doing. Sadly, I was in my post-breakup/I-have-no-friends slump so not only had I taken out my contacts forty-five minutes ago, but I was in my pajamas, nestled under the covers of my bed.

At the prospect of someone actually wanting to hang out with me, I jumped out of bed, threw on some clothes, and ran a comb through my hair. I had no expectations, really. That is, I had no intention of inviting him back to my place. Surely I would have made some effort to hide various crap lying around if that were the case. So when he asked if I wanted to watch a movie at my place after the bar closed, I hesitated big-time. I said, "Only if you wait outside the door for a little while so I can quick clean up." Of course when we actually got to my door, he refused to do so, saying he didn't care. He did an admirable job of concealing his disgust, saying it "wasn't bad" but there was no mistaking it: my place was a dump.

It looked like a typhoon had cycled through it. I could've made several pyramids with the half-empty soda cans strewn about. My closet had thrown up as evidenced by the contents that littered the hallway and served as an obstacle course to the bathroom door.

All in all, five of the seven factors applied in this case.

1. I hadn't shaved in a week. Check!

2. Unmade bed. Check!

3. Disgusting house. Check!

4. Unclean car. Failed to apply as we drove separately. Rest assured, it was filthy inside and out.

5. Granny panties. Check!

6. Unmaintained landscaping. Check!

7. Menstrual cycle. Failed to apply, as the pregnancy test wasn't necessary.

Bumps in the Road

I know I've been saying this for a while now, and yet I continue to feel like my relationship with TheGuy is at a standstill. The baby steps can be disheartening at times. Especially when you learn Buzzkill Biatch is moving halfway across the country with some dude she's been dating a month and claims to have "never felt this way about a guy before." Part of me wants to abandon ship and get out before I'm in any deeper but another part of me figures I've waited it out this long, what's another few months? I'm sure I will take the more passive route (that's how I do) by staying with him to see if any stronger feelings develop, but I don't know if that will happen.

Last night we got dinner and went to The Wild hockey game. While it was one of the better dates we've had -- conversation-wise, it still wasn't anything amazing. Maybe my expectations are too high. Maybe I'm searching for a reason to sabotage things before they get too serious and one (or both) of us gets too hurt. Maybe he's just not the right guy for me. Maybe I'm much too cynical for my own good. It could be all of the above or any number of things.
I will say that our level of comfort has changed for the better. Before he went home last night, we watched a couple episodes of The Office and engaged in some playful fighting on the couch which surprisingly, we've never done. It was by far our most light-hearted moment yet. I've noticed that I catch him staring at me a lot lately. I don't know whether he's about to say something and then changes his mind, or if he's trying to come up with something to say, or whether he's simply just looking at me.

What I Did This Weekend

Scrubbed grout out of my bathtub
Did 4 loads of laundry
Had disappointing meal at California Pizza Kitchen
Started watching the first season of Nip/Tuck
Saw Semi-Pro; it was semi-okay
Took Brody for a walk in the rain
Received a text from that Jason guy
Started shopping for a new computer
Pigged out at Perkins
Pigged out on greasy food from Santana's
Thought about working out
Decided to forgo working out in favor of a three hour nap
Got a lecture on the importance of a 401(k) by parents
Replenished my diet soda supply
Watched Marley play inside a paper bag for hours
Spent $54 on a tank of gas
Watched a couple episodes of Lipstick Jungle (so far, not impressed nor entertained, prefer Cashmere Mafia)
Slept in 'til noon

Sounds enthralling, huh?

p.s. This morning I've learned Mrs. Boris was out of town last evening as Curly Sue and co-workers went out to the bar and then back to the Boris residence for the after-bar. Details to follow.

I'm a Thorn -- Try Not to Get Pricked

Everyone's been taking this test. Your results are in! You are...

The Wild RoseRandom Brutal Love Dreamer (RBLD)

Colorful, but unpicked. You are The Wild Rose.



Prone to bouts of cynicism, sarcasm, and thorns, you excite a certain kind of man. Hoping to gather you up, he flirts and winks and asks you out, ultimately professing his love. Then you make him bleed. Why? Because you're the rare, independent, self-sufficient kind of woman who does want love, but not from a weakling.

You don't seem to take yourself too seriously, and that's refreshing. You aren't uptight; you don't over-plan. Romance-wise, sex isn't a top priority--a true relationship would be preferable. For your age, you haven't had a lot of bonafide love experience, though, and this kind of gets to core of the issue. You're very selective.

The problem is them, not you, right? You have lofty standards that few measure up to. You're out there all right, but not to be picked up by just anyone.

Always avoid: The Bachelor (DGSM)

Consider: The Vapor Trail (RBLM)

Your exact female opposite:

The Dirty Little Secret

Deliberate Gentle Sex Master

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.