Tuesday, May 31, 2011


Just a couple things for the moment...

1. I've enabled Anonymous commenting, as you may have noticed. Now if you want to comment, but you don't want your fellow bunneh-blog-reading friends to know it's you, you don't have to text or email me. You can leave the comment here for all to enjoy, but nobody will know! It will free your tongues (fingers?), I hope.

2. I'm looking for guest blog writers! I feel the general topics of this blog (dating, relationships, sex) are fairly universal, and I've heard some good stories from some of you via other mediums. If you have a great story you want to tell, just send it to bunneh.d@gmail.com, along with whatever pseudonym you'd like to have it published under. It can be Steve the Crap Can for all I care, just be interesting and I'll post it!

Monday, May 30, 2011

Reality Zone

There's a webcomic called Sinfest that I love and have been reading for years. In this comic, there's a realm called the "Reality Zone." When these comic characters wander into this area, they become real people. Sometimes they think it's kind of fun, other times it ruins them. Depression, taxes, growing old, etc.

I bring this up because Desk and I have decided to just be friends. Not for lack of attraction on either side, or for lack of liking one another... it's because we live in different realms. He is firmly in the Reality Zone, and I'm defiantly remaining in the comic character area.

You can only stand at the border, reaching across just far enough to touch one another for so long. Sooner or later, you have to face the fact that to continue the relationship, you can't stand still - one of you needs to step into the other's domain. If neither party is willing, you walk away.

If I were to step over into the Reality Zone, I already know the result: sobbing helplessly in the fetal position, unable to do anything about any of the crap that has suddenly weighed me down. I don't have the time or energy to pick myself up from that, not again. Glee fans? I AM FULL OF ENNUI. I am.

I'm just not ready to give in to the ennui. Not on any even remotely regular basis (oh god this post is pretty serious I think I'm getting hives). Making people laugh is a defense mechanism, and it also gives me bouts of personal satisfaction and happiness. Take a look at some of the funniest people you know... they've got some fuckin' demons, man.

Sure, this situation is sad. It definitely felt like it could have become something real... but I'm too scared to step over that boundary and let my swirling thoughts break free of the walls of humor I've spent so long building up. Seriously, guys... Desk has a freakin' adorable nose that I already miss a lil bit. Weird, right? I've never in my life been so attracted to a guy's nose. I'm not into noses. I think they're kind of icky, although the word is fun to say. Nose nose nose.


I feel like I should make this up to you! What was I thinking, getting all EMOTIONAL on you?? How about this... odd places to have sex! A list!

1. back seat of a car. Sure, it's totally common, but it's still weird. Seat belt pluggy thing in your back, anyone?

2. front seat of a car. Probably still pretty common, but awkward as hell, especially if you've got a console in between the seats. And now someone's gonna get the seat belt pluggy thing in the knee. OUCH.

3. gondola at a ski resort. Kinda cool to "do it" so high up on the mountains, above the snow, grateful that the gondolas around you are empty. Trying to work around your snowboard boots/pants/jackets is a little tricky.

4. a port-o-potty outside a church event. Okay, didn't have sex there, but sort of gave my first blowjob there. I say "sort of" because I think the thing was in my mouth for all of a second, really. I was 13 or 14. It was weird. I remember him afterward bragging that he "ate a taco" and thinking how gross that sounded, and he was also only down there for a second or two. He more licked a taco, really.

5. a cemetery. Yep, already told this story, but come on! It's WEIRD! Especially for non-goth, non-teenager people!

Friday, May 27, 2011


First, I want to share a link to an article I read yesterday that I really enjoyed. It's about ginormous boobs, if that increases your odds of clicking and reading.

In other news, lately my boss has been making comments about how negative I am. Which has me thinking... am I a negative person? Maybe a bit, but usually I'm just being a goofball, not actively trying to be negative. Honestly I feel like he's a negative person - kind of a hard-ass who likes to riff on people - and when I'm around him it brings it out of me. But every time he makes one of those comments, it really bothers me, and the whole dynamic is definitely putting a strain on our relationship.

Is it me, or is it really fucking weird to use the word "relationship" when talking about one's boss? I mean, I get that "relationship" is just the word for the interactions between two people, but since it's most often used to describe intimate interactions, it feels funny.





Um. Hmm. So! I should tell a positive story today!

Two atoms are walking down the street one day, and one of them says to the other:

"Hey, wait up a second. I think I lost an electron."

The first atom replied, "Are you sure?"

The second atom exclaimed, "Yes, I'm positive!"

....Forgive me, Internet.

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Hot dogs or tacos?

When I try to get to sleep, my brain regularly tries to thwart me. It's all, look. I have been passive all day, even when you needed me, because I'm an asshole. And now you're trying to shut me off, but hey! I have ALL THESE IDEAS! and they are BRILLIANT! You should totally turn the light back on and write them down. Because I will delete them if you don't.

And because I don't want to give in to bullying, I stalwartly refuse, and start thinking mundane things repeatedly until my brain is forced into sleepy submission. And for its part, it follows through on its threat: by morning, I can't recall my brilliant ideas, my life-changing blog entries half-written, my solutions to end world (or at least BobGinger) hunger!

This time, though, I remembered a snippet long enough to scribble it in my notebook. It reads: hot dogs or tacos? assuming sex. or.

Now the fun part, where I ask myself: ...what?

GUYS I REMEMBERED. I am so proud of myself that I kind of want to stand up in the middle of the room and yell that, except I'm at work (shhh!) and that would be... awkward. But guys! GUYS! I totally remembered! TAKE THAT, BRAIN, YOU FUCKER!!

(hmm. who wants to bet I won't be able to sleep tonight? hee. j/k, brain? let's be pals?)

So the whole point is sexual orientation, and how to tell. I was thinking about how it's harder, as a female, to hit on other females - outside of a lesbian bar, that is. I have no qualm with walking up to a guy and hitting on him, only to find out I am not his type in every sense of the idea. That's just funny. But if I walk up to a girl and hit on her, and she's straight, there's a few possible outcomes.

1. she could think it's flattering and everything's fine except I'm embarrassed because HI GIRLS SCARE ME OKAY.
2. she could not even realize I'm hitting on her, and we could hang out a bunch and be friends and I would pine and she would have no idea until one day I try to kiss her or hold her hand and she flips out, and then it's all awkward and we can't be friends anymore because she knows I want to see her boobs.
3. she could be offended that I thought she was a lesbian and kick my ass.

With my luck, I would end up with a combination of 2 & 3, wherein we become besties but she has no idea I yearn for her that way until I lick her ear one day and she punches me in the throat.

So I devised a possible solution! Begin the conversation with, "Do you prefer hot dogs ... or tacos?"

Monday, May 23, 2011

Tiny World

Before I tell this story, I want to share a quote from a show called Dead Like Me. It's kind of an old show but I only recently discovered (and devoured) it. There's this real asshole on a few episodes, and at one point he imparts this gem (which is a list so NATURALLY I love it):

Five reasons men are scum and women let us get away with it. 
1. we only want one thing. No exceptions. 
2. we fall in love with you before we can have that thing and then fall back out once we've had it, whereas women conversely fall in love afterwards. 
3. we will lie, cheat, steal or murder in order to get that thing... why am I sugarcoating this, you're a big girl... in order to fuck you. 
4. we freely admit the numbers one, two, three, and women don't care. 
And the number five reason why men are scum and women let us get away with it: you can't live without us.

The topmost reason I love that? #2. So stupid, so simple, and SO FUCKING TRUE.

And now on to today's story... the story of how my big city got reeeeeeeally itty-bitty the other night. While I was naked.

Sunday, May 22, 2011

The Craigslist Date

First, quickly, I have an update on Scooter! I'm not trying to turn this into StalkerBlog '11, but the guy just won't go away. This morning around 1 am, I awoke to my phone lighting up and going BONG! Yeah, I'm not smart enough to turn the volume off when I go to sleep. These things happen.

"How about a second chance? I was distracted by my living situation and life in general but I really liked you and want to try again! What do you say?"

What do I say? WHAT DO I SAY? Hmmm... where do I begin? That's the real question. "Can you go back in time and un-kill those kittens?" "HELL NO, you are a creepy muthafucka!!" "Is this a joke?" "The person you are trying to reach was taken by the Rapture. This is an automated reply. Please do not respond."

What I really said? *chirp chirp* Absolutely nothing.

And now on to the real story, which some of you from Facebook may remember, but come on! It's a good one! And it seems fitting post-non-Rapture to tell the story of a guy who tried to invite me to church on our first and only date! I hope he believed with all his little heart and sold everything he owns in preparation for the regular old gray cold Saturday we had yesterday.

November 2009 was kind of rough for me. Actually, the entire last quarter of 2009 was rough for me, THANKS A LOT CHEF WHO DUMPED ME TWICE. *ahem* So I decided to try responding to a Craigslist personal. I do have friends who have had good luck with those. I'd actually found a guy in my area & age range who wasn't gross or a weirdo or asking for "a submissive princess" or "discreet meetup" (because he's married), etc. If you've ever poked through the CL personals, you know that's rare.

We talk on the phone, he seems okay, we meet up... he's 10 minutes late (which leaves me sitting in the freezing cold waiting) with no apology, wearing an old t-shirt and torn jeans with long johns underneath. I'm no fashionista and I'm generally always in jeans and a t-shirt, but he couldn't even find jeans without a GIANT hole in the knee? Okay, okay... he's not unattractive and he's pretty interesting, so I figure, I'm already here, I'll just hang out. We were meeting to see a movie I really wanted to see (what's that? me making excuses for my boy retardation? ARE WE SURPRISED?). We start walking and talking while we wait to be let into the theater (Central Cinema for you locals), and at some point he tells me that he met a cute girl on the bus on the way there and they chatted a while.

I feel I need to put lots of parenthetical commentary in for you lovely readers just so you can get the full effect of this bit - plus it totally makes it look like I am a Writer of Plays.

me (sarcastic): "Yeah? How'd that work out for you?"
him (totally sincere): "Well, I was surprised she was interested, so that was cool, but ..." (suddenly seems to realize he is talking to his DATE and not his buddies) "uh, I mean, it obviously didn't work out, you know, 'cause I still came here to meet you." (beams at me as though I am one lucky bitch and why am I not kissing his face off in gratitude right now?)
me (with some degree of disbelief because is he for real?): "Wow. And you're sharing this with me why?"
him (proud as fuck and grinning): "I'm an open book!"

He also later asked me about my religious beliefs (I'm pretty sure it was not a natural segue either), and I said I'm agnostic. He laughed and said he thinks being agnostic is just lazy, and told me all about some church in my neighborhood he thinks I should attend.

I replied, "You know what? You're right. I am just being lazy! I'm so glad you came along and gave me that motivational kick in the butt I so desperately needed. What time is church?"

Wait. No. I just sort of stared at him and changed the subject. Because, hi, I grew up going to church 3 times a week, every week. Then I went to a Christian university where I took 5 semesters of Bible courses AND attended Chapel every damn weekday. THEN... I married a preacher's son. But no, you're right, I'M JUST LAZY. I have NO idea what the beliefs are that I'm questioning or the denominations I'm denouncing. Clearly.

At the end of the night, we walked outside and I wanted desperately to just say "bye" and run away, but I have a tiny bit of proper Southern girl in me. He was poking at his phone, yammering about complicated bus routes, clearly hinting for a ride home. Finally I got sick of standing in the 20 degree weather waiting for him to shut up, so I interrupted, "Okay, nice to meet you."

He looked up, genuinely surprised that I was not leaping at the opportunity to drive his sorry ass home. He said, "Oh, yeah, I was gonna say that, nice to meet you, and--" I cut him off with, "There's no and." I actually said this to the guy. I followed that with, "the end." Rude, but oh so satisfying. He looked a little confused but said, "Yeah, I guess we'll see how this pans out." How WHAT pans out? What part of "the end" does not compute?? I gave up - I turned and walked away.

A couple of weeks later, I got an email from him - "Hey I had a good time on our date. I'd be up for doing it again if you are."

Ladies, if you'd like to touch me and see if that gives you some of my amazing luck with the men, go right ahead.  I have plenty to share! NO PLEASE TAKE IT

Friday, May 20, 2011

The ice inside your soul

Short one tonight... I had a great happy hour with Genie and Little Mama that had me crying, "oh, this is SO going in the blog!" more than once, but I think I'll save those posts for after the rapture. I'm pretty sure anyone reading this blog will probably still be around after homeboy Jesus pops on down and scoops up his disciples, so don't worry. The Rest Of Us have until October 21 to loll about lazily in our sinning ways.

Which some of us will continue to write about on the Internet...

In the meantime, tonight I just wanted to share a couple of songs that I've been completely and totally obsessed with lately (me? obsessed with something? whaaaat?) - I think together, these songs nicely cover about 75% of my relationships. The other 25% are probably more suited to be sung about by Daft Punk. I know I'm not the only one in lovelovelove with these songs, as I've been seeing them popping up a lot on Facebook lately, plus, just DAYS after I downloaded them, they were performed on Glee.

That means they MADE IT. Because: Glee. It was enough to make me forgive them for also covering that weird "Friday" song that isn't good, no matter who sings it, because HI THE LYRICS ARE RETARDED.



First up, we have Adele - Rolling in the Deep. This is a strong, powerful song. Just a little angry, just a little sad, just a little wistful, just a little evil-bitch-vengeful. It's what we are after a breakup. It brings to mind more than one guy for me, more than one "we could have had it all."

And this one, Christina Perri's Jar of Hearts... slower, softer, but holy crap. Something about the way she doesn't sound angry, but is very clearly telling this guy to fuck right off just really makes me want to be a stronger woman. One who can say, "look, you're treating me like shit right now and that's just not cool," but without any crying or screaming or throwing of Gameboy Colors.

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Stalker, part 2: he's gone, or is this a lull?

You may recall (and mostly likely do, considering it was like 2 weeks ago, and this blog has less than 10 posts) that not long ago I had what I considered to be a stalker. A couple of days after he left the "RUDE/JERK" note outside my door, two more things happened. What's that mean, kids? A LIST! Because I love lists, even bitty short ones.

1. My best friend Hedgehog reported that he'd run into him at our regular bar, the night after the Crazy Handwriting Note Incident. This is where I met Scooter, and he knows it's "my" bar. Hedgehog said he waited around a bit to see if Scooter would acknowledge that they'd sort of met. After 10 minutes or so, he gave up and walked over - one of Hedgehog's shortcomings is that he is unfailingly friendly.

He approached Scooter and said, "Hey, you're [Peanut]'s friend, yeah?" Scooter looked at him, obviously recognized him, but replied, "[Peanut]?" Hedgehog said it was as though I was not the first Peanut to come to mind. Really? Because you weren't just outside my apartment, tap-tapping away at my door and leaving me insane serial killer-type messages?? Or maybe it's because he does that to allllll the ladies. Lucky us.

Monday, May 16, 2011

Controversy! Whoa!

Before I get into today's topic, I just have to share: today after work I walked into my office's gym and my CEO was standing there shirtless. We then spent an incredibly awkward half-hour stair-stepping next to each other in almost complete silence (yes, he'd long since put his shirt on). I may never go to the gym again, which is really bad because I just ate 3 tacos and I LOVE baked goods.

Now to talk about penises (penii? penes? I know, it's penises, but go ahead and say "penes" out loud and then try to tell me that's not WAY more fun to say) - and please, let me stress with all my little being that this second bit of my post has ABSOLUTELY NOTHING AT ALL to do with the first. Nothing. Please don't even think about that first paragraph in relation to the rest of this post, okay? Deal.

So... circumcision. Let's chat about it.

Not too long ago, this came up in conversation with one of my best girl friends, whom I will call Genie. We have some of the best and weirdest convos, and this one was no exception: to cut, or not to cut?

Today, Genie told me that she'd learned from a new mother friend of hers exactly what's involved in this. "They have to strap the baby down They stick a needle in his little peen, they cut the skin away from the peener, then they take the freshly cut (still attached) skin and grip it w 2 pincher things, THEN they leave the pinchers attached to the peener for 5 minutes. FIVE MINUTES. Then they cut the skin off and it's over."

So what part of that sounds like a perfectly normal thing that we should be doing?!?

My Australian friend is horrified by the whole thing. "When it comes down to it, you're cutting chunks off a baby. How is that not crazy? If I cut the finger off my child, I would probably go to jail."

It's true, I agreed. It's performing an unnecessary surgical procedure on a non-consenting child. When you put it like that, it sounds illegal.

Then I began to ask other guys. One friend of mine doesn't have children yet, so it was hypothetical. He said he probably would do the procedure - "because my parents thought it best for me." Another friend already has a toddler. I asked if he'd had it done to his son, and he said, "Yes, and it was terrifying."

Me: Why did you do it?
Him: Because I am and that's what I know.
Me: If you had another son, would you do it again?
Him: Probably... so when they fight it's one less thing to argue about.
Me: What do you mean?
Him: "haha, Dad likes me more because he didn't cut my penis off."

Some people argue an uncut penis is weird. Unusual. But here's what Genie and I have discovered: it's not that different. Once that fella is out to play, it's all pretty much the same. In fact, when we originally had this conversation, I was chatting about it with a guy I dated a few years ago.

Me: circumcision blah blah
Him: yeah I'm not cut blah blah
Me: blah blah... wait... what?

That's right - I'd slept with him, more than once, and had NO IDEA his little guy was wearing a hoodie in his off-hours. Makes me wonder if there have been others I don't know about! Made no difference to me, clearly. Just keep the peen clean, guys!

And now, the floor is open for discussion... ready... GO!

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Let's get dirty

It's time to talk about sex.

I seriously considered opening this post with "the time has come" but I figured that was way too obvious a joke. Problem is, it was also too good to not even mention, so there you go.

Everyone has funny sex stories. Not everyone is willing to share them ON THE INTERNET. Or if they are, you wish they hadn't. Let's hope I don't fall into that second category, because I'm about to prove I sure as hell don't fall into the first.

Cutting here in case you're not comfortable knowing this much detail about my sex life. Don't say you weren't warned.

1. I had a sex-only relationship with this guy. After it was all over, I realized we'd never even kissed on the mouth. Like hookers, I guess, but no money was exchanged. He was a horn-dog, and one thing you're going to learn about me if you haven't already is that I enjoy sex as a power move. More on that another time. Our first attempted encounter was in a public restroom at a video arcade. Yep. Super classy. I was coming out of the women's, he was going into the men's, we were both plastered, and he grabbed my hand and took me with him (yes, we already knew each other). He was way too tall, so logistically it didn't end up working out, and I'm sure the guy who came in to pee while we were fumbling around was all too aware of what was going on in the stall behind him.

2. Same guy, at his place. Mid-sex, he stuck his finger up my butt while I was riding away on top of him. Now, I know some people are into that. That's fine. Good on ya. But I'm not, and I already knew at the time that I was not. I grabbed his wrist and told him it wasn't my thing. "Are you sure?" "...yes." A minute later: up the pooper again! What! And then you think you're gonna touch me with that hand?? I stopped him again. "I'm REALLY, REALLY sure." A minute later - I'm sure you can guess - he figured maybe he would change my mind with his magical butt-fingering, I guess. I stopped cold, climbed off, and was dressed and out the door in less than 5 minutes.

3. Remember that first list, the guy who couldn't take me back to his place because he had a girlfriend? Without getting into how awful and horrible and wrong the whole situation was, let me just say that for whatever reason, I did not in fact kick him out of my car when he told me that. Nope. We went to a cemetery. In the middle of the night. Classic, right? This was several years ago, but I don't get the luxury of claiming I was too young to know better. Now that I recall, he was also a finger-up-the-butt guy, and I remember being horrified when he then twined his fingers in my hair to pull. Ewwww.

4. One guy I'm still friends with, and with whom I had a casual sometimes-sex relationship on and off for a couple of years, gets really bad beer farts. One night, when we hadn't been together for well over a year or so, we ran into one another at the bar. He was plastered, I was pretty well gone, so of course we decided it would be a great idea to make out like high schoolers on the corner, and then stumble back to his place. I proceeded to give him a good old-fashioned blowjob... and he proceeded to beer-fart. Yeah, basically in my face. Kiiiiiinda kills the mood. I claimed I was too drunk and left. The next time I saw him, I explained why I'd really left, and he was mortified.

5. ...but we laughed. In fact, I just saw this same guy at the bar again last night, and after a round of fart jokes I told him about this very blog and that the story would end up here. He reminded me of another incident, from when we'd first met about 4 or 5 years ago and attempted to actually date like normal(ish) people. It was the one and only time he came out to my place. He said my cat had played with the used condom. I asked if he was sure that was me, because my cat? My cat is far too prissy to go anywhere near something that gross, much less touch it. "No," he said, "it was that other cat... the smooshed-face one with the problems." Ohhhhh yeah. For a while I fostered a really, really ugly old Persian with breathing problems. He then demonstrated the cat batting around and trying to eat the used condom, and it all came back to me. I've never seen a naked man move so fast to get his used goods to the trash can.

I'm sure I've got more, but I'll save them for another time. Feel free to share your awkward/funny sexual encounters stories with me in the meantime!

Saturday, May 14, 2011

A decade just flies by

Yesterday would have been my 10th wedding anniversary. Nothing like that to make you feel old... and a bit alone. I'm grateful for having an ex-husband with whom I can be friends, one who sends me a nice message on Facebook to commemorate the day. We are friends on Facebook, and we regularly send birthday/Christmas messages, share news about our cats (who used to be best friends, but due to lack of typing ability have lost touch with one another - damn you, evolution!), and even occasionally send presents.

I'm also grateful that we got divorced, because can you imagine how weird it would be to celebrate your OMG 10TH ANNIVERSARY on Friday the 13th?? That's just asking for disaster.

I promised him I wouldn't write about him in this blog, and I won't... except this one time.

We started dating when I was in college - a Christian university. And he was a preacher's son. Remember that movie Footloose? Then you can pretty much imagine my life growing up. When one lives in the Bible Belt, getting married is merely a way to pass the time on the weekends.

Our wedding was the day after I graduated from college. I figured, family will already be in town for one event, so may as well not make them travel again later. The downside was that I got gypped on graduation gifts. The upside is that I only had to get a manicure once.

The wedding was small, casual (I and my 2 bridesmaids were barefoot), inexpensive, and fun. Guests colored on paper table covers with crayons, leaving us messages. Instead of a guest book, they signed on the mat board of a large framed picture of us. We later replaced that picture with one of our pet bunny, and turned the mat around. It's hanging in my bedroom now.

We split up pretty much right away. We were way too young, and had broken up twice before getting married. In fact, the summer before we got married, we lived together in a crummy apartment in a crappy college town in Texas, with nothing to do and no alcohol to make it better (dry city!). The fighting was constant. It was awful, miserable, a horrible summer... and it would have taught any reasonable people that they should not ever get married.

Ah, well.

A few months later, we decided to try again. Our religious backgrounds made it difficult to accept defeat. The next couple of months were... interesting. Here's a tip: if your relationship is on the rocks, recovering from some pretty bad mojo, and you're trying to work it out? Don't move to another state where you don't know anyone and live in a tiny bedroom with a twin bed in an apartment with 2 other people. Just don't. At some point, you will throw a Gameboy Color at your spouse's head. And with how tiny the bedroom is? It will be pretty much point-blank.

(It's okay - he kept my Gameboy Color when we divorced, and I think secretly it was his revenge for that incident.)

But would I go back, and not marry him? No. We had experiences together. We had good times. We had love, and lots of it at times. We had... a fuckload of hamsters. And bunnies, mice, cats... I worked at a pet store and brought everything home! He accepted this about me.

Our divorce was probably one of the easiest in history. "Hey... we should get a divorce, before we end up hating each other." "Yeah, I think we should." A bit of crying, and that was that. It was right around my 24th birthday, in October of 2003.

He offered to pay for the paperwork, I just had to sign. By the time we finally got around to doing any of that, I had moved to another state, and tax season had come upon us. We both owed money, but discovered if we filed together we owed less. Hey, why not? We were still legally married.

The whole thing ended with me half-asleep in my bed in Missouri. The judge called me up from Colorado, with my still-husband on the line, and asked us each if we contested. "No," I blearily responded. And that was that. An entire and legally binding relationship, done. I think I went back to sleep.

So long, and thanks for all the hamsters.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

First Love...ish

When I was 13, I was ... well, not the delightful mix of adorable and sexy that I am now! I was scrawny, had crooked buck teeth, and giant cheap glasses. Bad haircut, ill-fitting clothes, the works. I was the stuff coming-of-age movies are made of - the "before" scenes, anyway.

My family is religious, and for whatever reason we were going to a church in a neighboring city rather than in our own. This meant I didn't go to school with any of my church chums, so it was like having two separate worlds. I'm pretty sure that when I had boyfriends at church and talked about them at school, people assumed it was the equivalent of a pasty nerd boy talking about his "Canadian girlfriend." "Yeah, suuuure you have a boyfriend. Uh-huh. We totally believe you... NOT." (what? this was also back when Wayne's World was awesome.)

This story is going to tell you a couple of things... first, that my boy-induced retardation started at an early age, and second, that my current issues with dating have an old seed.

I had a massive crush on this boy, N, at church. He was tall, skinny as all hell, tan, and had long hair. I obsessed over him, but he had no interest in the scarecrow-lookalike girl gazing adoringly at him from the next pew. Then one day N brought his best friend Greasy to church. I call him that because as my brother was so fond of pointing out, dude had greeeeeasy hair. But at 13, looking like I did, who was I to be picky? He had horrible acne, but he was tall, sandy-haired, and most importantly: he liked me. This made him the most beautiful boy in the whole world.

He asked me out. In those days, "asking out" just meant "hey be my girlfriend." I wasn't actually allowed to date until I was 16. Since we went to different schools, couldn't drive, and I couldn't date, our entire relationship was holding hands at church and talking on the phone every night. When he told me he loved me after we'd been "going out" for about a week? a few days? I was thrilled to little ugly-duckling-bits and said it right back. I mean, that's what people DO in relationships, right? And I was IN ONE.

Greasy told me he'd lost his virginity when he was 9. He told me he wanted to sleep with me, and hold me. I thought he was so worldly and experienced, so I should just do or say whatever I needed to so he would think I was, too. I, um, didn't do a good job.

The first time he kissed me... well, okay, the first time he tried to kiss me was mortifying. We were standing on the side of the church building. It was night, after evening services, so we were lit only by the giant safety spotlight on the corner of the building. We were facing each other, probably only a few inches apart but in my memory, there was at least a yard between us. He learned forward, eyes closed, lips pursed, ready to plant that baby on me...

...and I leaned back in terror.

I vividly remember his face, and my automatic reaction to pull away from it, and feeling scared, then completely embarrassed. There was a little girl - N's younger sister - hiding around the corner watching us, and she burst into giggles. He looked upset. Oh god, I ruined it. I will be alone forever. I'm going to die alone with 100 cats, never kissed.

Oh wait. He's trying again. *smooch* ...okay. That wasn't so bad.

In 3 months of "going out," we broke up 3 times. One time, we were split up for all of a day and a half, and back together for possibly 2 days before splitting up again, this time I believe for a whole week. Sometimes I would call his house, and his mom would tell me he was out with N and Amy. I figured Amy was N's girlfriend.

Nope. Amy was Greasy's girlfriend. His school girlfriend. The one he, you know, did stuff with. Ohhh, I was crushed when I found out. I cried. His solution was to offer me his friend Freckles' phone number, so he could console me. I'd met Freckles a couple of times when N brought him to church as well, and somehow it didn't occur to me that it was REALLY FUCKING WEIRD that Greasy was giving me his best friend's number while breaking up with me.

So I called him.

Another story for another time... yep, I totally went out with Freckles next. WHAAAT.

Boy-induced retardation, people. I think it should be registered as a real disease.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Lessons learned

Today, I learned the following:

1. They do not sell mace or pepper spray at Fred Meyer.

2. Asking if they do causes me to lower my voice and feel mildly scandalous, like I'm asking where they stock THE GIANT PURPLE DILDOS.

3. After you're done filling your tire with Fix-a-Flat and you start to remove the little hose, it WILL explode white foam all over the place (and on you) like a teenage boy and the homeless guy loitering nearby smoking weed will laugh at you.

These are important life lessons, people. I hope you're taking notes.

Monday, May 9, 2011

Stalking: when you try to be John Cusack, but forget you're not

Sometimes people don't quite get that they've been dumped. It happens. Or, you get dumped, and something inside you snaps - you have to know WHY.

For most of us, we learned to ignore that nagging feeling of NEED TO KNOW when we were teenagers. Most people in their 30's and above can pretty much tell when the other party has lost interest, and bow out gracefully.


I have a few stories of times when people just would not get it. In some of these stories, that person is me. In the story I'm going to share now, that person is 32 and really should know better. I'm sharing it partly for own safety, because hey Internet? I'm a little creeped out right now.

No, that's a lie.

I'm freaked right the fuck out.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

How to end things

Now we have lots of ways to know when to walk away, but the biggest question is: how?

No matter if it's a full-blown relationship, or just a couple of dates in, telling someone you don't want to see them anymore is always rough. You have to tailor your goodbye to the person you're ditching. Is he the type to say, cool, have a nice life! or the type who will camp out on your doorstep with an acoustic guitar, sobbing while singing love songs, tacking poetry to your door and wailing late into the night about how HE WILL WIN YOU BACK, DAMMIT! 

1. Simply disappear. Stop texting/calling/emailing. Perhaps the other person will assume you have died, and move on. This move is especially popular in Seattle, and while I don't know that it's the best method for everyone, I find it's my fall-back when the person I'm ignoring is kind of... scary. Or when the words "I am breaking up with you" just don't seem to convey the same message you think they do.

2. "I'm sorry, I just don't feel a spark." How not to react to this one: "But maybe it takes TIIIIIIIIME to feel a spark. Maybe you just need to give it a CHAAAAAANCE. I still LIIIIIIIIKE you."

3. Tell her you're dating someone else whom you feel could actually be relationship material, implying that she isn't, "but hey isn't the sex fun? Oh, wait, did I just call you a free hooker by accident? Uh. Sorry." Then leave while she's sleeping and revert to step 1.

4. Have your best friend call her up to tell her that you cheated on her, because you're too chicken-shit to tell her yourself. Bonus points of your best friend also happens to be her ex-boyfriend, who also cheated on her when they dated.

And my personal favorite:
5. Move out while she's at work one day, without any warning whatsoever - in fact, kiss her goodbye in the morning and tell her you love her and to have a good day at work. This makes it extra fun for you. Don't leave a note or a message, and don't get in touch for several days - you really want to let the message sink in. Then call up to ask if you can come get the rest of your stuff. This is a tried-and-true method for cowardly fucks everywhere. NOT THAT I AM BITTER.

So that this doesn't turn into a man-bashing blog, I will also share stories of times when I was the asshole. Yes, sweet innocent lovely me! It's true! Try to wrap your brain around that, kiddies, because IT IS COMING.

Saturday, May 7, 2011

Post the first

At 31 (shit, when did that happen?), I feel I'm at a place where I can share with some confidence a few handy "how to know it's time to break up" tips. I've been dating somewhat steadily since I was 13, and considering I've only had a couple of relationships last longer than a few months... well, you do the math.

Fun fact: I'm a commitment-phobe. Sometimes. I'm not sure I really want to commit to that label. Sometimes I'm all OMG YOU ARE THE ONE FOR MEEEEEEEEE. At least for a month or so.

Often, knowing I'm scared of relationships and might be too quick to judge harshly in an attempt to find a reason to run away (a la Seinfeld), I will let things slide that I probably shouldn't. I waver between "I definitely can't date this person because HOLY CRAP have you SEEN how long his 2nd toe is?!? I CANNOT LOOK AT THAT!!" and "no no, I need to be forgiving of his belief in chem trails! That's just a... quirk! I am such a judgmental bitch, and he is reeeally cute!"

So, a handy list for you, based on my own real-life experience! Because I love lists.

Hints that it is definitely time to say buh-bye:

1. He touches you, even accidentally, and you flinch away.

2. If he tries to talk sexy to you, your automatic reaction is to roll your eyes and/or vomit.

3. Being around him stresses you out so much, your eye develops a constant twitch.

4. ...after a while, the other eye joins the party. He insists it's because you're using dual monitors at work, ignoring the fact that you've been using dual monitors both at home and at work for, oh, 4 years now.

5. He blocks you on Facebook, but pretends nothing is amiss and gee, he just doesn't know how that happened.  Isn't technology CRAZY?

6. You have to develop a sneaky, casual method of wiping your face off on his shoulder after he kisses you, because your neighbor's puppy slobbers less than that.

7. He only comes over at night, and you never actually leave your apartment, ever. Every time you suggest a date, he hedges and says he's really busy.

8. He has a picture of his ex-girlfriend on Facebook, with a caption reading "the LOVE of my life!!... still!"

9. "We can't go back to my place because... um... I live with my girlfriend.Um."

10. "I'm not looking for a relationship right now."

(yes - all of these have happened to me. stories to come!)