The other day I was talking to Tumbleweed about the concept of forgiveness, versus cutting people out of your life. Some people are constant forgivers, and some are instant cut-and-run types. I think there has to be a happy medium.
What causes some people to choose one option or the other? She and her sister were raised in the same family, yet they have different approaches. My brother and I were also raised the same way, but he is more forgiving and accepting, and I am more ready to throw my hands up and walk away. I always thought it was because of my military upbringing - we moved so often that I didn't have much of a chance to learn how to develop long-term friendships, the kind that endure plenty of ups and downs and rough patches. But if that's my excuse, why isn't my brother the same way?
Showing posts with label awkward. Show all posts
Showing posts with label awkward. Show all posts
Friday, March 21, 2014
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
Pet Store-ies!
Apologies for the pun in the title, but in my defense, I didn't come up with it myself. About 432 years ago (give or take), I asked on Facebook what else I should write about here. One of the suggestions was stories from my pet store employment days, and someone responded with that.
I've worked at 2 major chain pet stores in my life. I was at the first chain for about a year and a half in Colorado, and the second chain for about a year in Washington. At the first chain, there was a LOT of drama. Oh dear god the drama. It was like being in middle school, but wearing a uniform covered in various animals' pee and/or poop, and getting a paycheck for your suffering. I was 22-23 when I worked there.
The Operations Manager there was a girl just a little younger than me, who took smoke breaks as often as possible and had a baby with her common-law husband - she complained about him constantly, broke up with him regularly, and I know at least a couple of us suspected him of physically abusing her but she would never admit it. She would still sometimes go to "raves" with another girl who worked there (also a little younger than me, married, 2 kids).
This was the kind of girl I'd heard existed in high schools, but that I don't remember actually knowing personally. She was nice to people, and acted like we were friends. I even had her and her baby over to my home once, and would take smoke breaks with her so we could chat. (I learned quickly in retail that if I wanted to actually take breaks, I had to pretend to be a smoker and bond with my chimney managers.)
Another girl who worked there had Bitch Face. Not Bitchy Resting Face - just Bitch Face. It was rare to get a real smile from her that made her look like for at least that moment she did not, in fact, want to kill you and everyone around you and set your corpses on fire for no reason. There's a theme going here - this girl was also younger than me and had a young child. She and I were both shift managers and "specialists" for different departments. She apparently took this to mean we were in competition for the General Manager's affections. Maybe the Ops Manager thought I was after her job, too, because these two girls had it out for me.
At some point, I thought I'd won over Bitch Face. We hung out outside of work and I made her laugh a few times, and we seemed to be getting along instead of her just glowering at me every time we passed, or snapping if I asked her for any sort of help at work. Progress!
Nope.
I've worked at 2 major chain pet stores in my life. I was at the first chain for about a year and a half in Colorado, and the second chain for about a year in Washington. At the first chain, there was a LOT of drama. Oh dear god the drama. It was like being in middle school, but wearing a uniform covered in various animals' pee and/or poop, and getting a paycheck for your suffering. I was 22-23 when I worked there.
The Operations Manager there was a girl just a little younger than me, who took smoke breaks as often as possible and had a baby with her common-law husband - she complained about him constantly, broke up with him regularly, and I know at least a couple of us suspected him of physically abusing her but she would never admit it. She would still sometimes go to "raves" with another girl who worked there (also a little younger than me, married, 2 kids).
This was the kind of girl I'd heard existed in high schools, but that I don't remember actually knowing personally. She was nice to people, and acted like we were friends. I even had her and her baby over to my home once, and would take smoke breaks with her so we could chat. (I learned quickly in retail that if I wanted to actually take breaks, I had to pretend to be a smoker and bond with my chimney managers.)
Another girl who worked there had Bitch Face. Not Bitchy Resting Face - just Bitch Face. It was rare to get a real smile from her that made her look like for at least that moment she did not, in fact, want to kill you and everyone around you and set your corpses on fire for no reason. There's a theme going here - this girl was also younger than me and had a young child. She and I were both shift managers and "specialists" for different departments. She apparently took this to mean we were in competition for the General Manager's affections. Maybe the Ops Manager thought I was after her job, too, because these two girls had it out for me.
At some point, I thought I'd won over Bitch Face. We hung out outside of work and I made her laugh a few times, and we seemed to be getting along instead of her just glowering at me every time we passed, or snapping if I asked her for any sort of help at work. Progress!
Nope.
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Crazy Talk: Prologue
I have to preface all of this by saying that I love my parents. They dedicated the best years of their lives to making sure I would have a chance to enjoy mine. I do appreciate that. I don't blame them for when things went awry, and I believe they still do the best they can with the options they're comfortable with.
That said, my mother is crazy. She wasn't always as crazy as she is now, and it's an uncomfortable topic for the rest of my family. I have so many stories. I want you to know that it's okay to laugh when you think it's funny. I laugh about it sometimes, too. Sometimes, that's all I can do. It's a horrible situation, and it might make me a horrible person, but a sense of humor helps keep me grounded in reality. It helps to remind myself that no, it isn't normal. I'm actually afraid that if I start to think it's normal, I'll end up the same way.
There were some early signs that things weren't quite right. But first, if you find yourself thinking that you're the most worthless or unhappiest person you know, please talk to someone about it. If you read the rest of this or any of my later posts and think it sounds eerily familiar, seek out a trustworthy professional. You owe it to yourself and to the people you care about. Just by doing that, you'll be taking a huge step toward helping yourself live the life you deserve to live.
I really wish that my own family had recognized the warning signs before it got worse.
That said, my mother is crazy. She wasn't always as crazy as she is now, and it's an uncomfortable topic for the rest of my family. I have so many stories. I want you to know that it's okay to laugh when you think it's funny. I laugh about it sometimes, too. Sometimes, that's all I can do. It's a horrible situation, and it might make me a horrible person, but a sense of humor helps keep me grounded in reality. It helps to remind myself that no, it isn't normal. I'm actually afraid that if I start to think it's normal, I'll end up the same way.
There were some early signs that things weren't quite right. But first, if you find yourself thinking that you're the most worthless or unhappiest person you know, please talk to someone about it. If you read the rest of this or any of my later posts and think it sounds eerily familiar, seek out a trustworthy professional. You owe it to yourself and to the people you care about. Just by doing that, you'll be taking a huge step toward helping yourself live the life you deserve to live.
I really wish that my own family had recognized the warning signs before it got worse.
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Sometimes I Don't Think... Period
First of all, while I oppose the concept of victim-blaming, I also believe in taking responsibility for being a fucktard. And I was a fucktard.
...okay, sometimes I'm still a fucktard. Shut up. In fact, I think the entirety of my 20's can be written off as a long series of frequent stupid decisions, slowing down into less-frequent-but-still-not-bright decisions in my 30's.
A good friend of mine is in Missouri right now, and it made me think of when I lived there. After a bit of a breakdown, I moved in with my folks for a while to recoup. Missouri was not exactly the most fun place I've ever lived, plus I was living with my parents.
This was so long ago, of course, the details are fuzzy in my mind. Right before I left Colorado, that dickhead who moved out while I was at work got back in touch and wanted to try long-distance until I was ... I don't know, better? ... and the plan was that I would then move back to Colorado and we would be together and la la la happiness and flowers and crazy people. I was all about it. I was desperate to be loved and wanted and whole and was basically insane.
Who was surprised when he pulled another disappearing act? Sadly, only me. It didn't take long for him to stop answering or returning my calls, to block me on AIM, to just drop off the face of the earth without a peep. Now I was in Missouri with no friends, no job, nothing to do, and now no hope for this stupid false relationship I'd been clinging to like a blind bloated tick.
EVERYTHING IS RUINED FOREVER.
...okay, sometimes I'm still a fucktard. Shut up. In fact, I think the entirety of my 20's can be written off as a long series of frequent stupid decisions, slowing down into less-frequent-but-still-not-bright decisions in my 30's.
A good friend of mine is in Missouri right now, and it made me think of when I lived there. After a bit of a breakdown, I moved in with my folks for a while to recoup. Missouri was not exactly the most fun place I've ever lived, plus I was living with my parents.
This was so long ago, of course, the details are fuzzy in my mind. Right before I left Colorado, that dickhead who moved out while I was at work got back in touch and wanted to try long-distance until I was ... I don't know, better? ... and the plan was that I would then move back to Colorado and we would be together and la la la happiness and flowers and crazy people. I was all about it. I was desperate to be loved and wanted and whole and was basically insane.
Who was surprised when he pulled another disappearing act? Sadly, only me. It didn't take long for him to stop answering or returning my calls, to block me on AIM, to just drop off the face of the earth without a peep. Now I was in Missouri with no friends, no job, nothing to do, and now no hope for this stupid false relationship I'd been clinging to like a blind bloated tick.
EVERYTHING IS RUINED FOREVER.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Nice to Meet You - DING!
There's been some interest in hearing about my speed dating adventure, so I figured it was time to tackle that one. It was almost 3 years ago so my memory is a little hazy, but I'll do my best to express the full awfulness of the whole thing for you.
I went because that summer, I was spending a lot of time with a girl I'll just call A. She was an incredibly friendly, outgoing person who was, like me, divorced and struggling in the dating world. The summer we met, I happened to be in a perfectly content single state, but I had a lot of fun dressing up and going out with her, playing wing woman, sharing dating stories and woes. I thought I'd found a kindred spirit and finally a close girl friend who lived just a block from me so we could spend time together.
That friendship fell apart after a few months, and I won't go into that out of respect for her - I've seen her since, and she's changed a lot. Unfortunately it turns out we happened to meet during a really difficult, dark time in her life, and she wasn't her true self. The disappointment I felt when we parted ways just after my 31st birthday was akin to the heartbreak of a romantic relationship breakup, and I still occasionally feel a pang of regret that we never reconciled.
Tangent over; one night A really wanted to try speed dating. She and a male coworker, whom I'd met before and thought was rather nice, were going and she insisted I come along for support. I in turn insisted she pay my entry fee. Fair's fair, bitches! I reeeeally did not want to go. I had no interest in meeting anyone at the time and how much could I really play wing woman when we were always at separate tables?
I went because that summer, I was spending a lot of time with a girl I'll just call A. She was an incredibly friendly, outgoing person who was, like me, divorced and struggling in the dating world. The summer we met, I happened to be in a perfectly content single state, but I had a lot of fun dressing up and going out with her, playing wing woman, sharing dating stories and woes. I thought I'd found a kindred spirit and finally a close girl friend who lived just a block from me so we could spend time together.
That friendship fell apart after a few months, and I won't go into that out of respect for her - I've seen her since, and she's changed a lot. Unfortunately it turns out we happened to meet during a really difficult, dark time in her life, and she wasn't her true self. The disappointment I felt when we parted ways just after my 31st birthday was akin to the heartbreak of a romantic relationship breakup, and I still occasionally feel a pang of regret that we never reconciled.
Tangent over; one night A really wanted to try speed dating. She and a male coworker, whom I'd met before and thought was rather nice, were going and she insisted I come along for support. I in turn insisted she pay my entry fee. Fair's fair, bitches! I reeeeally did not want to go. I had no interest in meeting anyone at the time and how much could I really play wing woman when we were always at separate tables?
Thursday, September 20, 2012
On a Lighter Note
IM'ing with my boss..
Peanut: I've seen 2 people at this company with shirts off unintentionally and 1 intentionally
Peanut: I think maybe I've reached my quota
Peanut: wait no
Peanut: 4
boss: ha
Peanut: because old_boss wasn't wearing a shirt when he did the Dirty Dash
boss: do I hear a 6?
Peanut: har har
Peanut: the rest have been fired/quit
Peanut: um
Peanut: okay
Peanut: 5
boss: lol
Peanut: shit
Peanut: 6
...and then I heard my boss laugh from across the room.
Peanut: I've seen 2 people at this company with shirts off unintentionally and 1 intentionally
Peanut: I think maybe I've reached my quota
Peanut: wait no
Peanut: 4
boss: ha
Peanut: because old_boss wasn't wearing a shirt when he did the Dirty Dash
boss: do I hear a 6?
Peanut: har har
Peanut: the rest have been fired/quit
Peanut: um
Peanut: okay
Peanut: 5
boss: lol
Peanut: shit
Peanut: 6
...and then I heard my boss laugh from across the room.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Don't Push Your Peener on Me
I'm running into a problem lately.
Here's my thing: when I'm in social situations and I get uncomfortable, I blurt things out, I ramble, I generally get panicky and say stupid things. And when am I uncomfortable in social situations? Almost always. No joke. So then I announce, "Ducks have corkscrew penises!" which inevitably leads to me explaining how barnacles have the largest peens, as far as peen size:body size ratio goes, and this is because hey! Barnacles don't move much! This way the boy barnies can just reach over to a girl barney with their peener and go *waggle waggle* (which is weiner-speak for "Hey baby, come here often? WANT TO?") and then sexing happens with minimal effort on the parts of both barnacles, except the part that is the reaching, searching, traveling peen.
There, see? I talk about stuff like that, because it's funny to me, but really, not terribly appropriate. Especially if I've just met you. "Hi. Nice to meet you. Um. So did you know that ducks are rapists?" This is why I don't get invited back to people's houses very much. Lovely low-key party? Don't invite this girl, unless you get a kick out of seeing all your other guests become wildly uncomfortable.
Where am I going with this? Well, I suppose it results in two problems, actually. One, I don't get invited to things. Which is probably fine, since I panic and feel anxious almost the entire time I'm there, anyway, and wish I'd stayed at home with a book instead. But two, and the one I really want to get into, is that people - and here I mean DUDES - think it's okay to bring up suggestive things to me on a regular basis.
Yeah, okay, I talk about peens. But you know what? Corkscrew duck wangs and blind waggling barnacle beacons are pretty de-sexualized. That is not me saying, "Your turn! Tell me about your personal, private peener now!" And it is certainly not me saying, "Please make eyes at me every time we talk and make sexual comments to make it very clear that you want to be in my pants at some time in the near future."
First of all, does that work? Ever? Just randomly blurting to your female friend something suggestive? Does she ever go, "Oh my god, I didn't know you wanted to bonk me! Let's go!"? (the punctuation in that is weird, and wrong, but I am standing by it, because I'm a rebel.)
Second of all, I'm pretty sure that's sexual harassment. I've been thinking about this a lot lately, because it happens to me a lot, and it NEVER fails to make me uncomfortable, and I wondered, is sexual harassment just a workplace thing? And I don't think it is.
Sexually suggestive remarks/actions that are unwelcome make me uncomfortable. If I do not respond in kind the first time, don't fucking keep doing it. Also you should probably find a better way to hit on women, because there's a really fucking high chance that it will not work, and now you've made me feel awkward around you forever.
Maybe this isn't true for all women. But the guys that do this to me are guys who know me, and thus should know that if I wanted to have anything at all to do with their nether regions, I would have made that pretty clear right away. And really, I know it's me and I know everyone thinks I'm just this raging boner-loving slut machine who is perfectly happy to jump in the sack with anyone who smiles at me, but NEWSFLASH: that is not me. I enjoy flirting. It's fun, it's light, and it doesn't have to lead anywhere, and I love that. But flirting does not mean telling me I have big boobs, or suggesting that I want to hump [you/him/anyone], or asking about my masturbation habits.
Why don't I just tell these guys to go fuck themselves and leave me out of the whole process and NO, I don't want to hear about it later? Because when I'm in an uncomfortable situation, I feel helpless. Throw me a fucking life preserver, because I'm flailing out here, and I'm not as strong as I pretend to be. This was proven to me in a big, scary way just recently. I'm not sure why, but I can grab some convenient pop psychology to pretend to guess at it and say maybe it's because I was raised with a very strong sense of male authority and female subservience, and no matter how much I may logically disagree with that notion, things sort of get ingrained in you during your formative years and they're difficult to scour off. Plus I always wonder if I'm overreacting, because I do that.
SO. I hope that what you have taken away from this post is that barnacles have ginormously long dongs, and I hope that you're wondering, like me, how the hell the great traveling penis even knows it's reached a lady barnacle. Does a barnacle penis also have eyes so it knows where it's going? What if he bumps it into something that vaguely feels lady-barnacle-like and ends up raping an oyster? I feel like that would just turn out badly for both parties. Or would it turn out great for evolution?
Here's my thing: when I'm in social situations and I get uncomfortable, I blurt things out, I ramble, I generally get panicky and say stupid things. And when am I uncomfortable in social situations? Almost always. No joke. So then I announce, "Ducks have corkscrew penises!" which inevitably leads to me explaining how barnacles have the largest peens, as far as peen size:body size ratio goes, and this is because hey! Barnacles don't move much! This way the boy barnies can just reach over to a girl barney with their peener and go *waggle waggle* (which is weiner-speak for "Hey baby, come here often? WANT TO?") and then sexing happens with minimal effort on the parts of both barnacles, except the part that is the reaching, searching, traveling peen.
There, see? I talk about stuff like that, because it's funny to me, but really, not terribly appropriate. Especially if I've just met you. "Hi. Nice to meet you. Um. So did you know that ducks are rapists?" This is why I don't get invited back to people's houses very much. Lovely low-key party? Don't invite this girl, unless you get a kick out of seeing all your other guests become wildly uncomfortable.
Where am I going with this? Well, I suppose it results in two problems, actually. One, I don't get invited to things. Which is probably fine, since I panic and feel anxious almost the entire time I'm there, anyway, and wish I'd stayed at home with a book instead. But two, and the one I really want to get into, is that people - and here I mean DUDES - think it's okay to bring up suggestive things to me on a regular basis.
Yeah, okay, I talk about peens. But you know what? Corkscrew duck wangs and blind waggling barnacle beacons are pretty de-sexualized. That is not me saying, "Your turn! Tell me about your personal, private peener now!" And it is certainly not me saying, "Please make eyes at me every time we talk and make sexual comments to make it very clear that you want to be in my pants at some time in the near future."
First of all, does that work? Ever? Just randomly blurting to your female friend something suggestive? Does she ever go, "Oh my god, I didn't know you wanted to bonk me! Let's go!"? (the punctuation in that is weird, and wrong, but I am standing by it, because I'm a rebel.)
Second of all, I'm pretty sure that's sexual harassment. I've been thinking about this a lot lately, because it happens to me a lot, and it NEVER fails to make me uncomfortable, and I wondered, is sexual harassment just a workplace thing? And I don't think it is.
Sexually suggestive remarks/actions that are unwelcome make me uncomfortable. If I do not respond in kind the first time, don't fucking keep doing it. Also you should probably find a better way to hit on women, because there's a really fucking high chance that it will not work, and now you've made me feel awkward around you forever.
Maybe this isn't true for all women. But the guys that do this to me are guys who know me, and thus should know that if I wanted to have anything at all to do with their nether regions, I would have made that pretty clear right away. And really, I know it's me and I know everyone thinks I'm just this raging boner-loving slut machine who is perfectly happy to jump in the sack with anyone who smiles at me, but NEWSFLASH: that is not me. I enjoy flirting. It's fun, it's light, and it doesn't have to lead anywhere, and I love that. But flirting does not mean telling me I have big boobs, or suggesting that I want to hump [you/him/anyone], or asking about my masturbation habits.
Why don't I just tell these guys to go fuck themselves and leave me out of the whole process and NO, I don't want to hear about it later? Because when I'm in an uncomfortable situation, I feel helpless. Throw me a fucking life preserver, because I'm flailing out here, and I'm not as strong as I pretend to be. This was proven to me in a big, scary way just recently. I'm not sure why, but I can grab some convenient pop psychology to pretend to guess at it and say maybe it's because I was raised with a very strong sense of male authority and female subservience, and no matter how much I may logically disagree with that notion, things sort of get ingrained in you during your formative years and they're difficult to scour off. Plus I always wonder if I'm overreacting, because I do that.
SO. I hope that what you have taken away from this post is that barnacles have ginormously long dongs, and I hope that you're wondering, like me, how the hell the great traveling penis even knows it's reached a lady barnacle. Does a barnacle penis also have eyes so it knows where it's going? What if he bumps it into something that vaguely feels lady-barnacle-like and ends up raping an oyster? I feel like that would just turn out badly for both parties. Or would it turn out great for evolution?
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Desk: Redux. Redexsk?
That's hard to say... redex-sk. But fun!
Right, so. A while back - I think a few months now, but I'm not sure - Desk was back at my office, building more desks with his company. I honestly didn't know they were here and went up to talk to the receptionist about something, and saw him. Almost didn't recognize him because he was wearing a hat and had grown quite the face full of beard, but he waved and smiled sort of shyly at me and it clicked.
The weird part is how long it took me to realize it was the insane amounts of facial hair that made me not recognize him, not the hat. He was very clean-shaven when we dated, and now he was a fuckin' mountain man, but yeah... that ballcap REALLY changes everything.
Later that night, or maybe the next, I was at the grocery store. I was feeling a little... lonely? nostalgic? forgiving? All those things, I suppose. So I sent him a text asking if he'd like to grab a drink sometime and catch up. I honestly didn't have any ulterior motives - as amazing as we were in bed together, I didn't want to go back to that. Especially not with the mountain-man-thing going on. Oh, yeah, and the whole really awful email thing, too.
Anyway, he texted back saying he was pleasantly surprised by my offer, but that he was planning to move to Portland in just a couple of weeks, so was a bit overwhelmed with planning and packing and such. We text-chatted a little back and forth that evening, and that was it.
Until yesterday.
Right, so. A while back - I think a few months now, but I'm not sure - Desk was back at my office, building more desks with his company. I honestly didn't know they were here and went up to talk to the receptionist about something, and saw him. Almost didn't recognize him because he was wearing a hat and had grown quite the face full of beard, but he waved and smiled sort of shyly at me and it clicked.
The weird part is how long it took me to realize it was the insane amounts of facial hair that made me not recognize him, not the hat. He was very clean-shaven when we dated, and now he was a fuckin' mountain man, but yeah... that ballcap REALLY changes everything.
Later that night, or maybe the next, I was at the grocery store. I was feeling a little... lonely? nostalgic? forgiving? All those things, I suppose. So I sent him a text asking if he'd like to grab a drink sometime and catch up. I honestly didn't have any ulterior motives - as amazing as we were in bed together, I didn't want to go back to that. Especially not with the mountain-man-thing going on. Oh, yeah, and the whole really awful email thing, too.
Anyway, he texted back saying he was pleasantly surprised by my offer, but that he was planning to move to Portland in just a couple of weeks, so was a bit overwhelmed with planning and packing and such. We text-chatted a little back and forth that evening, and that was it.
Until yesterday.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
I came home to a coconut
I don't think I wrote about it here, but back in February, I got a delivery of flowers at the office. There was a lovely note attached, reading:
Happy Valentine's Day!
[Peanut], you are a super lovely, super geeky, super sexy and an absolutely bad-ass one-of-a-kind girl!!!
I hope these flowers will bring at least a little of the happiness and sunshine into your day that you brought into my life.
From, Your Secret Admirer
I'll admit, my first reaction was anger. I'd told my boss the day before that if anyone tried to treat this day as anything other than a regular Tuesday, I was going home. I knew these were pity flowers. Some friend of mine felt bad for poor, single, lonely me on this stupid over-hyped couples-centric day, and thought this would make me feel better. I even accused my boss, because he is regularly trying to bolster my confidence and self-esteem (to no avail, but I guess it's nice he tries). He denied it up, down, and sideways, and finally I was pretty sure I believed him.
My list of suspects was pretty short - I'm not close to many people. And I was totally baffled until I realized I've listed my workplace on Facebook, and anyone with half a brain cell could easily look up the address. I finally had one girl at the top of my suspects list, a girl who is sweet and thoughtful and always trying to cheer people up. Feeling ashamed of my earlier anger, and grateful that anyone cared about me enough to think of trying to cheer me up, I sent her a message saying if it was her, thank you. She neither confirmed nor denied, but I went on with my life thinking I'd figured it out. As another friend said cryptically on Facebook, "the exclamation points give it away."
Then, last Friday, which was Friday the 13th if that matters, I got a coconut.
Happy Valentine's Day!
[Peanut], you are a super lovely, super geeky, super sexy and an absolutely bad-ass one-of-a-kind girl!!!
I hope these flowers will bring at least a little of the happiness and sunshine into your day that you brought into my life.
From, Your Secret Admirer
My list of suspects was pretty short - I'm not close to many people. And I was totally baffled until I realized I've listed my workplace on Facebook, and anyone with half a brain cell could easily look up the address. I finally had one girl at the top of my suspects list, a girl who is sweet and thoughtful and always trying to cheer people up. Feeling ashamed of my earlier anger, and grateful that anyone cared about me enough to think of trying to cheer me up, I sent her a message saying if it was her, thank you. She neither confirmed nor denied, but I went on with my life thinking I'd figured it out. As another friend said cryptically on Facebook, "the exclamation points give it away."
Then, last Friday, which was Friday the 13th if that matters, I got a coconut.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Who Am I??
Recently, I did pretty much the most un-me-like thing ever.
I met a cute, funny, smart guy... and when he walked me home...
...I did nothing.
I volunteered at a neighborhood beer tasting event, and toward the end of the shift, my friend had to rush off to some other events. That left me to drink at this event alone. There weren't a lot of cider options, what with this being a beer tasting event, so after a couple of visits to each, I felt pretty tipsy and bored. I decided the night was still young, so I wandered over to my usual bar.
Normally, this bar isn't too crowded, but this Saturday night it was pretty packed. So much for my idea of sitting at the bar, chatting with the ladies on shift. Walking up to order, I saw one of the awesome-but-no-spark guys that I'd been on a few dates with earlier this year. He was with a girl, and though we've remained friendly, I just couldn't abide the idea of skulking around the bar alone, looking friendless, while this guy was here on a date.
This part of the story is typical me, so I guess I'm not totally broken. I spotted a couple of attractive guys standing in the corner chatting, and I walked up to them and put my drink on their table. "Hi, my friend left me so I'm drinking alone and there's a guy over there that I used to date so I don't want to look like a loser so will you guys be my friends?"
Guys: *blink blink*
One of them (the one I thought was cuter) said, "Wait... so... you're not dating him anymore, right?"
Me: "Noooo."
Him: *looks around* "There's a table over there. Let's grab it."
For the next couple of hours, these guys totally entertained me. There were bear jokes, Latvian jokes, stories and good times. They were just really great guys. Super nice, friendly, funny, smart. After a while, we all wandered outside. D was driving home, and Josh (the cute one and yes that's his real name) geared up and unlocked his bike. Then he said to me, "you said you live up the hill, right? I'll walk you home."
So he walked his bike and me up the hill. He said he's applying to grad school for English Lit, and I learned that fishermen (yeah, he's one) hate loggers, and just in general it was completely pleasant. I was a bit hoarse from being sick and coughing a lot the previous week, and having to practically yell at the bar for over 2 hours (holy crap that bar is so fucking loud). Add to that, my apartment was messy, he had his bike, and I hadn't shaved my legs or done any landscaping recently, and you've got reasons for even me to not invite a guy up.
There we are, standing at the corner outside my apartment building, laughing about loggers and joking about how scary I am, and I... panicked, I guess. I knew I wasn't inviting him up, but for some reason it didn't enter my fairly drunk and clearly stupid brain to say "hey, let's hang out again!" Nope. I said, "Welp, thanks for letting me hang out with you guys. Ride safe!" and I kind of bapped his bicycle seat with my rolled up volunteer t-shirt. Then I turned and went up the stairs to my apartment.
Ride safe. *bap*
RIDE SAFE.
*bap*
Seriously?? If I had said "That was fun now go away" I couldn't have more clearly given this guy exactly the opposite impression about what I wanted from him. THIS IS SO NOT ME.
I assessed what I knew: Josh. Fisherman. In the off-season, he does... something... at UW. I think. The fact that I can't remember what he does there makes me doubt my memory of that statement at all. I'm 85% sure he works there when he's not in Alaska, though. Doing... you know... something. I know the neighborhood he lives in, and I know he has a bike. None of that is even remotely enough to even find the guy on Facebook.
Oh, and he can lick his own elbow. Go ahead, try it. You know you want to. And I bet you won't even get close. And no, that's still not helpful.
Clearly I'm the victim of a case of body-snatching. That is the only explanation I can come up with for acting this way. You don't even have to know me for very long to know that this is not normal behavior for me! AUGH. 2012, you are just really not being nice to me in the boy department! What have I done? What can I do to appease you, 2012??
By the way... if by some weird chance someone reading this knows or thinks they might know this guy... for the love of [insert something you love the mostest here], DO NOT TELL HIM ABOUT THIS OH GOD I WOULD HATE YOU SO MUCH.
PS thanks to all my friends who have listened to me obsess and indulged me this last week or so about The Fisherman. I promise I'm giving up on ever seeing him again and I will find something new to obsess about any minute... (giving this post the "stalker" label because I might have maybe gone back to the bar a few times hoping he'd be there again, so I was a little bit of a stalker. Then I realized I really don't like drinking that much and I was being dumb, so I stopped. But still. Gotta be honest.)
I met a cute, funny, smart guy... and when he walked me home...
...I did nothing.
I volunteered at a neighborhood beer tasting event, and toward the end of the shift, my friend had to rush off to some other events. That left me to drink at this event alone. There weren't a lot of cider options, what with this being a beer tasting event, so after a couple of visits to each, I felt pretty tipsy and bored. I decided the night was still young, so I wandered over to my usual bar.
Normally, this bar isn't too crowded, but this Saturday night it was pretty packed. So much for my idea of sitting at the bar, chatting with the ladies on shift. Walking up to order, I saw one of the awesome-but-no-spark guys that I'd been on a few dates with earlier this year. He was with a girl, and though we've remained friendly, I just couldn't abide the idea of skulking around the bar alone, looking friendless, while this guy was here on a date.
This part of the story is typical me, so I guess I'm not totally broken. I spotted a couple of attractive guys standing in the corner chatting, and I walked up to them and put my drink on their table. "Hi, my friend left me so I'm drinking alone and there's a guy over there that I used to date so I don't want to look like a loser so will you guys be my friends?"
Guys: *blink blink*
One of them (the one I thought was cuter) said, "Wait... so... you're not dating him anymore, right?"
Me: "Noooo."
Him: *looks around* "There's a table over there. Let's grab it."
For the next couple of hours, these guys totally entertained me. There were bear jokes, Latvian jokes, stories and good times. They were just really great guys. Super nice, friendly, funny, smart. After a while, we all wandered outside. D was driving home, and Josh (the cute one and yes that's his real name) geared up and unlocked his bike. Then he said to me, "you said you live up the hill, right? I'll walk you home."
So he walked his bike and me up the hill. He said he's applying to grad school for English Lit, and I learned that fishermen (yeah, he's one) hate loggers, and just in general it was completely pleasant. I was a bit hoarse from being sick and coughing a lot the previous week, and having to practically yell at the bar for over 2 hours (holy crap that bar is so fucking loud). Add to that, my apartment was messy, he had his bike, and I hadn't shaved my legs or done any landscaping recently, and you've got reasons for even me to not invite a guy up.
There we are, standing at the corner outside my apartment building, laughing about loggers and joking about how scary I am, and I... panicked, I guess. I knew I wasn't inviting him up, but for some reason it didn't enter my fairly drunk and clearly stupid brain to say "hey, let's hang out again!" Nope. I said, "Welp, thanks for letting me hang out with you guys. Ride safe!" and I kind of bapped his bicycle seat with my rolled up volunteer t-shirt. Then I turned and went up the stairs to my apartment.
Ride safe. *bap*
RIDE SAFE.
*bap*
Seriously?? If I had said "That was fun now go away" I couldn't have more clearly given this guy exactly the opposite impression about what I wanted from him. THIS IS SO NOT ME.
I assessed what I knew: Josh. Fisherman. In the off-season, he does... something... at UW. I think. The fact that I can't remember what he does there makes me doubt my memory of that statement at all. I'm 85% sure he works there when he's not in Alaska, though. Doing... you know... something. I know the neighborhood he lives in, and I know he has a bike. None of that is even remotely enough to even find the guy on Facebook.
Oh, and he can lick his own elbow. Go ahead, try it. You know you want to. And I bet you won't even get close. And no, that's still not helpful.
Clearly I'm the victim of a case of body-snatching. That is the only explanation I can come up with for acting this way. You don't even have to know me for very long to know that this is not normal behavior for me! AUGH. 2012, you are just really not being nice to me in the boy department! What have I done? What can I do to appease you, 2012??
By the way... if by some weird chance someone reading this knows or thinks they might know this guy... for the love of [insert something you love the mostest here], DO NOT TELL HIM ABOUT THIS OH GOD I WOULD HATE YOU SO MUCH.
PS thanks to all my friends who have listened to me obsess and indulged me this last week or so about The Fisherman. I promise I'm giving up on ever seeing him again and I will find something new to obsess about any minute... (giving this post the "stalker" label because I might have maybe gone back to the bar a few times hoping he'd be there again, so I was a little bit of a stalker. Then I realized I really don't like drinking that much and I was being dumb, so I stopped. But still. Gotta be honest.)
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Hello? Is this thing on?
I almost forgot about this thing! I got off track for a minute there, but here I am! I'm back! Exclamations!
2012 has been slow as far as fodder for stories goes. Let's see if I can sum it all up for you!
-Had a few dates with a guy who started out very promising: cute, smart, photographer, my age, GREAT kisser. Lots of fooling around and good times in that arena, but no actual sex - he had some weird hang-ups. He also, as it turned out, was still in love with his ex-girlfriend, and also kind of boring once he gave up drinking. I called it after 5 dates, pointing out that I was not, in fact, who he wanted to be with (that being his ex), and he agreed (he was very open about actively seeking other dates on OKC the whole time we were dating as well). He does get points for brutal honesty throughout the entire dating period. The 5th date was the one on which this happened:
He mentions his ex (certainly not the first time)
Me: "Are you in touch with [ex]?"
Him: "Yeah, that's who I was Skyping with this morning."
Me: "Are you still in love with her?"
Him: *no hesitation* "Yes. I suppose if I were to call it a day with anyone, it'd be her."
Me: "...so... why did you two break up?"
Him: "Because that's a terrifying concept!"
-Had a few really awesome dates with a fantastically funny, sweet, attentive, smart attractive guy, with whom I felt absolutely zero spark. Big ol' sadface there. Super awkward telling him that, too. Recently noticed he's no longer active on OKC, so hopefully that means he found someone. Really PO'd that my brain and my bod didn't agree on that one.
-Had a few pretty great dates with another really funny, sweet, attentive, smart, attractive guy... same story. No spark. *grumble* Really hoping we can stay friends, but leaving that up to him.
-Went on one date with the gayest straight man ever. He skipped. He giggled. He commented on my "lovely" scarf. He did pretty much everything you'd expect your faaabulous flaming gay guy friend to do, except for the part where he kissed me at the end of the night (and the kiss? yeah, that part was SO not gay). Despite the pretty good kissing, I just couldn't deal. When he said he wanted to come over for "a movie and cuddles," I had to end things. Am I a horrible person? Maybe. But I find that when I'm with effeminate men, I act the way I do when I'm with women: butch. I had roommates who called me "boyfriend." If I'm dating a guy, I want to be the girly one.
-Fell madly, wildly in love with a total stranger in Austin, by which I mean I never learned his name but obsessed about him for 3 days and am still kicking myself a little bit for not flirting better when I met him (and then fumbling the whole thing even more when I got a second chance). Yeah, I obsess. WHAT OF IT.
-Oh yeah, and had a new personal low in the sexy times department.
2012 has been slow as far as fodder for stories goes. Let's see if I can sum it all up for you!
-Had a few dates with a guy who started out very promising: cute, smart, photographer, my age, GREAT kisser. Lots of fooling around and good times in that arena, but no actual sex - he had some weird hang-ups. He also, as it turned out, was still in love with his ex-girlfriend, and also kind of boring once he gave up drinking. I called it after 5 dates, pointing out that I was not, in fact, who he wanted to be with (that being his ex), and he agreed (he was very open about actively seeking other dates on OKC the whole time we were dating as well). He does get points for brutal honesty throughout the entire dating period. The 5th date was the one on which this happened:
He mentions his ex (certainly not the first time)
Me: "Are you in touch with [ex]?"
Him: "Yeah, that's who I was Skyping with this morning."
Me: "Are you still in love with her?"
Him: *no hesitation* "Yes. I suppose if I were to call it a day with anyone, it'd be her."
Me: "...so... why did you two break up?"
Him: "Because that's a terrifying concept!"
-Had a few really awesome dates with a fantastically funny, sweet, attentive, smart attractive guy, with whom I felt absolutely zero spark. Big ol' sadface there. Super awkward telling him that, too. Recently noticed he's no longer active on OKC, so hopefully that means he found someone. Really PO'd that my brain and my bod didn't agree on that one.
-Had a few pretty great dates with another really funny, sweet, attentive, smart, attractive guy... same story. No spark. *grumble* Really hoping we can stay friends, but leaving that up to him.
-Went on one date with the gayest straight man ever. He skipped. He giggled. He commented on my "lovely" scarf. He did pretty much everything you'd expect your faaabulous flaming gay guy friend to do, except for the part where he kissed me at the end of the night (and the kiss? yeah, that part was SO not gay). Despite the pretty good kissing, I just couldn't deal. When he said he wanted to come over for "a movie and cuddles," I had to end things. Am I a horrible person? Maybe. But I find that when I'm with effeminate men, I act the way I do when I'm with women: butch. I had roommates who called me "boyfriend." If I'm dating a guy, I want to be the girly one.
-Fell madly, wildly in love with a total stranger in Austin, by which I mean I never learned his name but obsessed about him for 3 days and am still kicking myself a little bit for not flirting better when I met him (and then fumbling the whole thing even more when I got a second chance). Yeah, I obsess. WHAT OF IT.
-Oh yeah, and had a new personal low in the sexy times department.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Sexual Harassment
Peanut: apparently i got a decent enough grasp on the last thing they threw at me, so today i get something new
Peanut: and
Peanut: my trainer is the guy i slept with a year and a half ago
Peanut: so it's always awkward when we have to work together
Mrs. H: oh boy
Mrs. H: well
Mrs. H: good luck with that
Peanut: and it takes all my self control not to blurt out "hey remember that time you saw my boobs??"
Peanut: bc i think it would be hilarious
Peanut: but no
Peanut: must work
Peanut: and be professionalish
Mrs. H: Focus on the Robo-bobcats
Mrs. H: and work
Peanut: but his reaction would be AMAZING
Peanut: he would collapse into a puddle of awkward embarrassed goooooo
Mrs. H: haha
Mrs. H: resist the temptation
Peanut: and i'd poke him and sing "iiiiii saw you naaaaaaked, iiiiiiiii saw you naaaaaaaaaked"
Peanut: not a good idea?
Mrs. H: Well, sure it would be hilarious
Mrs. H: but the harassment suit would be over so fast
Mrs. H: and you aren't rich - they'd take your cat
Peanut: we are in the midst of company-wide sexual harassment training
Peanut: so it's probably poor timing
Peanut: I knew I should've done it when I first got promoted to this team
Peanut: or!
Peanut: i could say i did it as a skit
Peanut: What Not To Do
Peanut: it's part of the training!
Peanut: 1. don't sleep with coworkers, 2. don't tease them about it later
Mrs. H: while Goo Boy just lays there in a puddle of awkwardness
Peanut: he's shy already so it's possible he'd explode outright
Peanut: and then who would be left to sue me?
Mrs. H: his family?
Mrs. H: and they would probably get extra
Peanut: pfft
Mrs. H: "Embarrassment induced explosion" is likely to get the sympathy of the jury
Peanut: and
Peanut: my trainer is the guy i slept with a year and a half ago
Peanut: so it's always awkward when we have to work together
Mrs. H: oh boy
Mrs. H: well
Mrs. H: good luck with that
Peanut: and it takes all my self control not to blurt out "hey remember that time you saw my boobs??"
Peanut: bc i think it would be hilarious
Peanut: but no
Peanut: must work
Peanut: and be professionalish
Mrs. H: Focus on the Robo-bobcats
Mrs. H: and work
Peanut: but his reaction would be AMAZING
Peanut: he would collapse into a puddle of awkward embarrassed goooooo
Mrs. H: haha
Mrs. H: resist the temptation
Peanut: and i'd poke him and sing "iiiiii saw you naaaaaaked, iiiiiiiii saw you naaaaaaaaaked"
Peanut: not a good idea?
Mrs. H: Well, sure it would be hilarious
Mrs. H: but the harassment suit would be over so fast
Mrs. H: and you aren't rich - they'd take your cat
Peanut: we are in the midst of company-wide sexual harassment training
Peanut: so it's probably poor timing
Peanut: I knew I should've done it when I first got promoted to this team
Peanut: or!
Peanut: i could say i did it as a skit
Peanut: What Not To Do
Peanut: it's part of the training!
Peanut: 1. don't sleep with coworkers, 2. don't tease them about it later
Mrs. H: while Goo Boy just lays there in a puddle of awkwardness
Peanut: he's shy already so it's possible he'd explode outright
Peanut: and then who would be left to sue me?
Mrs. H: his family?
Mrs. H: and they would probably get extra
Peanut: pfft
Mrs. H: "Embarrassment induced explosion" is likely to get the sympathy of the jury
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Chin Up, Old Chap!
I just wanted to do a quick post since my last one was so dark and dreary and pathetic and all those other sad adjectives. Work's been rough lately, the weather's been miserable, and little things just really take their toll on me sometimes. Saying I accept I may never have a real relationship again is one thing; really accepting it in both mind and heart is another altogether. Everything combined just led me to a really ridiculously shitty couple of days.
The good news is that the more I accept things, the less miserable I am. At this point, I've accepted my current situation as a fun, casual something-or-other, and I will just have to keep trying to learn more at work so it won't be so difficult. I can't do a damn thing about the weather, sadly, but winter always treats me like its little bitch, so I should be used to it by now!
In other news, can we please talk about pheromones? Do you ever kiss someone because you like being around him/her and you think there should probably be Something there, even though you don't feel any sexual tension when you're hanging out? It's a mad disappointment. Really nice, attractive, hilarious, easy to talk to, easy to be with, great date planner, sweet, attentive, totally into me, smart... but I just didn't feel any need to be touching him. We kissed, and it just felt like lips smooshing lips. I could smell his face and that just made it even weirder. He wasn't a bad kisser, but I may as well have been making out with my own hand for all I felt. Telling someone who is in every other way totally awesome that you simply don't feel a spark is SO. AWKWARD. And trust me, trying to continue dating someone that you've realized you have no interest even kissing, not to mention humping, is awful.
Why doesn't this happen in the movies? In the movies, the first kiss scene almost always cuts to a bed scene, either steamy or post-steamy. No matter the circumstances of the two parties getting together, there's never a weird "Oh. Huh. So turns out there's no spark. Sorry" moment following the first kiss. It's always fireworks and pounding hearts and pulsing sexy parts for both people.
Why do some people make your loins tingle even if you're just thinking about them, even if they're probably wrong for you in most other ways? Why do these mysterious little scientific bits called pheromones have so much power over us? Is that what settling means? Settling for someone who is good in every other way, but just doesn't get your passions roaring? Is it selfish of me to want it all?
Things I'm accepting: it is entirely possible I will not ever be in a real, loving relationship again in my life. This is a truth for a lot of people, and I may be one of them. I realize 32 isn't exactly old maid spinster cutoff age, but I feel like if I just go ahead and accept the possibility this may be my life, it will much easier to deal with getting there. Already it has helped me calm down about my current dating situation, and be okay with a very casual situation that is not likely to lead to anything serious, ever. Why can't I just have some fun and occasional companionship along the way? Even if it does mean sometimes having awkward conversations about missing chemistry... when the chemistry is in my favor, I'm gonna enjoy it. Something inside me decided sometime in the last year that I really wanted a relationship, something real, something lasting, etc etc. But you know what, sometimes you just gotta tell your own self to shut it.
Now go forth, and spend entirely too long thinking about the mechanics of kissing, because holy shit guys that is a REALLY weird thing to be doing with your mouth, especially without any sexy stirrings to go along with it.
The good news is that the more I accept things, the less miserable I am. At this point, I've accepted my current situation as a fun, casual something-or-other, and I will just have to keep trying to learn more at work so it won't be so difficult. I can't do a damn thing about the weather, sadly, but winter always treats me like its little bitch, so I should be used to it by now!
In other news, can we please talk about pheromones? Do you ever kiss someone because you like being around him/her and you think there should probably be Something there, even though you don't feel any sexual tension when you're hanging out? It's a mad disappointment. Really nice, attractive, hilarious, easy to talk to, easy to be with, great date planner, sweet, attentive, totally into me, smart... but I just didn't feel any need to be touching him. We kissed, and it just felt like lips smooshing lips. I could smell his face and that just made it even weirder. He wasn't a bad kisser, but I may as well have been making out with my own hand for all I felt. Telling someone who is in every other way totally awesome that you simply don't feel a spark is SO. AWKWARD. And trust me, trying to continue dating someone that you've realized you have no interest even kissing, not to mention humping, is awful.
Why doesn't this happen in the movies? In the movies, the first kiss scene almost always cuts to a bed scene, either steamy or post-steamy. No matter the circumstances of the two parties getting together, there's never a weird "Oh. Huh. So turns out there's no spark. Sorry" moment following the first kiss. It's always fireworks and pounding hearts and pulsing sexy parts for both people.
Why do some people make your loins tingle even if you're just thinking about them, even if they're probably wrong for you in most other ways? Why do these mysterious little scientific bits called pheromones have so much power over us? Is that what settling means? Settling for someone who is good in every other way, but just doesn't get your passions roaring? Is it selfish of me to want it all?
Things I'm accepting: it is entirely possible I will not ever be in a real, loving relationship again in my life. This is a truth for a lot of people, and I may be one of them. I realize 32 isn't exactly old maid spinster cutoff age, but I feel like if I just go ahead and accept the possibility this may be my life, it will much easier to deal with getting there. Already it has helped me calm down about my current dating situation, and be okay with a very casual situation that is not likely to lead to anything serious, ever. Why can't I just have some fun and occasional companionship along the way? Even if it does mean sometimes having awkward conversations about missing chemistry... when the chemistry is in my favor, I'm gonna enjoy it. Something inside me decided sometime in the last year that I really wanted a relationship, something real, something lasting, etc etc. But you know what, sometimes you just gotta tell your own self to shut it.
Now go forth, and spend entirely too long thinking about the mechanics of kissing, because holy shit guys that is a REALLY weird thing to be doing with your mouth, especially without any sexy stirrings to go along with it.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Snoozin Buddies
I have a confession: I am really bad in bed.
Sleeping, I mean. I don't sleep well, and that makes me a very poor bedmate.
First, it takes me a while to fall asleep. I toss and turn like... well, a thing that tosses and turns a lot. It takes me several tries to get a position that feels juuuuust right so I can actually get to sleep. I start on one side. I try a few arrangements with my arms, then with my legs. Sometimes I shift a bit onto my stomach, then I might shift back. Often I end up in some kind of weird jack-knife position, which is fine when I'm alone, but if you're in the spot next me on the bed, it can lead to a knee in the back. Generally unpleasant.Then I'll switch to the other side and repeat the whole process.
Once I'm done acting like a marionette made of jumping beans (hey, now there's a nice image for your nightmares! YOU'RE WELCOME!), it's still not fun to be under the covers with me. I'm tiny, and I'm always cold, but holy crap do I warm up when I sleep. I have been called a human space heater. My metabolism is just churning away while my brain frolics in dream land, so I'm generating a ton of warmth, and it has nowhere to go thanks to the blankets. I usually start the night all bundled to the gills, but I wake up with blankets, socks, and pajama pants all thrown asunder. With yet another body thrown into this furnace, it just gets to be too much and I can't sleep at all. I'm back to tossing, turning, flinging blankets about, and being an all-around bed nuisance.
Then we have more tossing. More turning. I think this is probably how I get most of my exercise, actually. I wake up about 549862 times a night, and almost every time, a position change is required, even if just a tiny one. If I don't move/change sides/flail about, my joints start hurting like a mofo, and that makes for a very unhappy me. I don't think I've punched anyone in the face yet, but I have kicked, headbutted, and kneed my poor sleeping partners.
Do I snore? I've been told that sometimes I do, but I've also been told these snores are "tiny and cute." Sometimes, though, I get all congested and my unconscious self decides the solution to not being able to breathe through my nose is to just breathe through my mouth. Logical. Except, there I am, on my side with my mouth open, and did you know that you don't swallow in your sleep? When I was about 6 or 7, I watched a friend taking a nap at our babysitter's house, because I wanted to accurately be able to feign sleep. That... hmm. That sounds rather creepy now that I'm admitting it, but come on! I was little, it was the middle of the afternoon, and it was FOR SCIENCE! If something is FOR SCIENCE! that means it's okay. Anyway, point being, open mouth + no swallowing = drooooooool. Sexy. You want this. Don't deny it.
I was thinking about all this last night as I was careening around* my queen bed solo, enjoying being able to fling my legs any which way I pleased. Sharing my bed with a new person is always hard, because I want to appear like I have perfect sleep manners... so basically, I sleep in tiny little 5 minute increments, which are cushioned by ridiculously long periods of laying awake, as still as possible, thinking about all the ways I wish I could arrange my limbs but desperately willing my body not to follow through on those impulses. Sharing the other person's bed with said new person is just double the issues, and the first time that happens, I'm lucky if I get any sleep at all. I love you, sleep! I do, truly and deeply! Why are you so evasive with me?
Anyone else a sleeptard?
*I realize I could have chosen another way to describe this, but the mental image I got of myself careening around a bed like an untied balloon just cracked me up.
Sleeping, I mean. I don't sleep well, and that makes me a very poor bedmate.
First, it takes me a while to fall asleep. I toss and turn like... well, a thing that tosses and turns a lot. It takes me several tries to get a position that feels juuuuust right so I can actually get to sleep. I start on one side. I try a few arrangements with my arms, then with my legs. Sometimes I shift a bit onto my stomach, then I might shift back. Often I end up in some kind of weird jack-knife position, which is fine when I'm alone, but if you're in the spot next me on the bed, it can lead to a knee in the back. Generally unpleasant.Then I'll switch to the other side and repeat the whole process.
Once I'm done acting like a marionette made of jumping beans (hey, now there's a nice image for your nightmares! YOU'RE WELCOME!), it's still not fun to be under the covers with me. I'm tiny, and I'm always cold, but holy crap do I warm up when I sleep. I have been called a human space heater. My metabolism is just churning away while my brain frolics in dream land, so I'm generating a ton of warmth, and it has nowhere to go thanks to the blankets. I usually start the night all bundled to the gills, but I wake up with blankets, socks, and pajama pants all thrown asunder. With yet another body thrown into this furnace, it just gets to be too much and I can't sleep at all. I'm back to tossing, turning, flinging blankets about, and being an all-around bed nuisance.
Then we have more tossing. More turning. I think this is probably how I get most of my exercise, actually. I wake up about 549862 times a night, and almost every time, a position change is required, even if just a tiny one. If I don't move/change sides/flail about, my joints start hurting like a mofo, and that makes for a very unhappy me. I don't think I've punched anyone in the face yet, but I have kicked, headbutted, and kneed my poor sleeping partners.
Do I snore? I've been told that sometimes I do, but I've also been told these snores are "tiny and cute." Sometimes, though, I get all congested and my unconscious self decides the solution to not being able to breathe through my nose is to just breathe through my mouth. Logical. Except, there I am, on my side with my mouth open, and did you know that you don't swallow in your sleep? When I was about 6 or 7, I watched a friend taking a nap at our babysitter's house, because I wanted to accurately be able to feign sleep. That... hmm. That sounds rather creepy now that I'm admitting it, but come on! I was little, it was the middle of the afternoon, and it was FOR SCIENCE! If something is FOR SCIENCE! that means it's okay. Anyway, point being, open mouth + no swallowing = drooooooool. Sexy. You want this. Don't deny it.
I was thinking about all this last night as I was careening around* my queen bed solo, enjoying being able to fling my legs any which way I pleased. Sharing my bed with a new person is always hard, because I want to appear like I have perfect sleep manners... so basically, I sleep in tiny little 5 minute increments, which are cushioned by ridiculously long periods of laying awake, as still as possible, thinking about all the ways I wish I could arrange my limbs but desperately willing my body not to follow through on those impulses. Sharing the other person's bed with said new person is just double the issues, and the first time that happens, I'm lucky if I get any sleep at all. I love you, sleep! I do, truly and deeply! Why are you so evasive with me?
Anyone else a sleeptard?
*I realize I could have chosen another way to describe this, but the mental image I got of myself careening around a bed like an untied balloon just cracked me up.
Monday, November 7, 2011
How NOT to Kiss
I've smooched some bad kissers in my day. In college there was a fella who seemed to think he should be inhaling during the makeouts, so that when we pulled apart there was an audible popping noise.Thus we have:
1. Don't kiss like a vacuum.
And anyone who is a fan of Sex & the City (which I would guess is many of you who are also fans of this blog) might recall the episode where Charlotte's date licks her face and sucks on her chin. Gah.
2. Don't kiss like a happy puppy.
I've mentioned previously in this blog that if you have to wipe your face off after someone kisses you, everything is wrong.
3. Don't kiss like a drooly baby. (wait... are there other kinds of babies? I don't know.)
Once while drunkenly making out with a younger guy, he came in too fast and too hard and actually busted my lip with his teeth.
4. Don't kiss like a hockey puck.
French-kissing is weird if you think about it too long, but it's definitely enjoyable if both parties are using their tongues properly. Darting your tongue rapidly in and out of the other person's mouth is NOT using it properly.
5. Don't kiss like a hungry lizard.
Also, my throat? Doesn't need to be licked. I get it, you have a long tongue. I have better places on my person for you to prove how far you can stick it out.
6. Don't kiss like a strep test.
One final tip... and this one is not from my personal experience...
7. DON'T SPIT IN THE OTHER PERSON'S MOUTH.
Yep. Not long ago, a friend of mine was sharing a story about a date she went on. The guy seemed all right until it came to smoochin' time. He asked her to open her mouth. Confused, she complied. And he? HE SPIT IN HER MOUTH.
I was pretty drunk when she told this story, but holy shit you just do not forget that kind of thing. I'm pretty sure her reaction was to tell him, hey, don't do that! Really? Really?? Because I'm almost positive my reaction would be to VOMIT ON HIM.
1. Don't kiss like a vacuum.
And anyone who is a fan of Sex & the City (which I would guess is many of you who are also fans of this blog) might recall the episode where Charlotte's date licks her face and sucks on her chin. Gah.
2. Don't kiss like a happy puppy.
I've mentioned previously in this blog that if you have to wipe your face off after someone kisses you, everything is wrong.
3. Don't kiss like a drooly baby. (wait... are there other kinds of babies? I don't know.)
Once while drunkenly making out with a younger guy, he came in too fast and too hard and actually busted my lip with his teeth.
4. Don't kiss like a hockey puck.
French-kissing is weird if you think about it too long, but it's definitely enjoyable if both parties are using their tongues properly. Darting your tongue rapidly in and out of the other person's mouth is NOT using it properly.
5. Don't kiss like a hungry lizard.
Also, my throat? Doesn't need to be licked. I get it, you have a long tongue. I have better places on my person for you to prove how far you can stick it out.
6. Don't kiss like a strep test.
One final tip... and this one is not from my personal experience...
7. DON'T SPIT IN THE OTHER PERSON'S MOUTH.
Yep. Not long ago, a friend of mine was sharing a story about a date she went on. The guy seemed all right until it came to smoochin' time. He asked her to open her mouth. Confused, she complied. And he? HE SPIT IN HER MOUTH.
I was pretty drunk when she told this story, but holy shit you just do not forget that kind of thing. I'm pretty sure her reaction was to tell him, hey, don't do that! Really? Really?? Because I'm almost positive my reaction would be to VOMIT ON HIM.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Just... WHAT?
Got a message on OKCupid tonight.
So I have decide you are the coolest person I have seen on here in the last day. I am... TOTALLY... going to steal you... put you on the magic carpet, so we can fly... ALL THE WAY... to Italy, and chase Kangaroos. There aren't even any Kangaroos in Italy... BUT-in my world there is.
I can't even make any witty remarks to make this better. THIS IS GOLD, PEOPLE.
So I have decide you are the coolest person I have seen on here in the last day. I am... TOTALLY... going to steal you... put you on the magic carpet, so we can fly... ALL THE WAY... to Italy, and chase Kangaroos. There aren't even any Kangaroos in Italy... BUT-in my world there is.
I can't even make any witty remarks to make this better. THIS IS GOLD, PEOPLE.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Sexy Times: What Worries You?
Let's say you have a date/date-type-thing coming up that you are pretty certain is going to involve sex. With a new person.
What do you think about leading up to this?
I would imagine for the ladies: leg/pit shaving, makeup... for the men: will she think his peener is good enough?... for both: landscaping, clean home (whoever is hosting), showering, will it be any good?, will s/he like me?, are there condoms? (you should both be prepared, people! never rely on the other party)
Here is my deal: if sex happens without forethought or with someone I've already been with and am comfortable around, I'm not even remotely concerned with things like leg hair or if I've showered or if there's dirty clothes on the floor. But if I know SEX WILL HAPPEN, I think way too much. Sometimes I just decide that I am desirous of sex, so the next date I have is the winner. Date gets set up, and then... I have time to think about it. And... hmm.
What do you think about leading up to this?
I would imagine for the ladies: leg/pit shaving, makeup... for the men: will she think his peener is good enough?... for both: landscaping, clean home (whoever is hosting), showering, will it be any good?, will s/he like me?, are there condoms? (you should both be prepared, people! never rely on the other party)
Here is my deal: if sex happens without forethought or with someone I've already been with and am comfortable around, I'm not even remotely concerned with things like leg hair or if I've showered or if there's dirty clothes on the floor. But if I know SEX WILL HAPPEN, I think way too much. Sometimes I just decide that I am desirous of sex, so the next date I have is the winner. Date gets set up, and then... I have time to think about it. And... hmm.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Being Likeable
What do you do when you think you've made a fab new friend, but then you realize this new friend has a crush on you?
OPTIONS!
(am writing this from perspective of female crushee and male crusher, but feel free to play footloose and fancy-free with the pronouns and body parts until it suits you)
1. Smack him in the face and run away, à la The Bobcats. Hopefully he doesn't have a Thing For Crazies.
2. Ask him if he's gay. Repeatedly. Then ask if he's really, really sure.
3. Tell him you don't have a vagina. It simply fell out when you were 15 and you never bothered to worry about it because hey! No periods! No sexual frustration! Win-win. No really, go look it up in some kind of scientific journal.
4. Move to another city.
5. Bring up some Hot Guy You Love every time you hang out. Hope he gets the hint. Burst into tears a lot (lamenting unrequited love from Hot Guy). Allow snot to flow freely.
6. Talk incessantly about the weirdish purpley wart your left big toe seems to be cultivating despite your best efforts to burn it/cut it/soak it in kerosine.
7. Announce your intentions to make a coffee table book of photographs of deformed penes. Excitedly tell him he looks like he'd be a shoe-in to be a participant - he just has the face of someone with a problematic peener, you know?
8. Salivate a little while talking lustily about how you've always thought Van Gogh was SOOOOOOO sexy and it would just be SOOOOOO amazing to date a guy who would CUT OFF HIS EAR for you, and you are just pretty sure you cannot settle for anything less. Then hope he's not into body mutilation.
9. Tell him you're actually a lesbian, and resign yourself to never dating another boy as long as you remain friends with this one.
10. Ignore it and hope he never musters the balls to make a move. If/when he does, gently explain you just don't see him that way and hope this doesn't negatively impact the friendship. If it does, respect his wishes and give him his space.
Guess which route I usually choose?
OPTIONS!
(am writing this from perspective of female crushee and male crusher, but feel free to play footloose and fancy-free with the pronouns and body parts until it suits you)
1. Smack him in the face and run away, à la The Bobcats. Hopefully he doesn't have a Thing For Crazies.
2. Ask him if he's gay. Repeatedly. Then ask if he's really, really sure.
3. Tell him you don't have a vagina. It simply fell out when you were 15 and you never bothered to worry about it because hey! No periods! No sexual frustration! Win-win. No really, go look it up in some kind of scientific journal.
4. Move to another city.
5. Bring up some Hot Guy You Love every time you hang out. Hope he gets the hint. Burst into tears a lot (lamenting unrequited love from Hot Guy). Allow snot to flow freely.
6. Talk incessantly about the weirdish purpley wart your left big toe seems to be cultivating despite your best efforts to burn it/cut it/soak it in kerosine.
7. Announce your intentions to make a coffee table book of photographs of deformed penes. Excitedly tell him he looks like he'd be a shoe-in to be a participant - he just has the face of someone with a problematic peener, you know?
8. Salivate a little while talking lustily about how you've always thought Van Gogh was SOOOOOOO sexy and it would just be SOOOOOO amazing to date a guy who would CUT OFF HIS EAR for you, and you are just pretty sure you cannot settle for anything less. Then hope he's not into body mutilation.
9. Tell him you're actually a lesbian, and resign yourself to never dating another boy as long as you remain friends with this one.
10. Ignore it and hope he never musters the balls to make a move. If/when he does, gently explain you just don't see him that way and hope this doesn't negatively impact the friendship. If it does, respect his wishes and give him his space.
Guess which route I usually choose?
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Dreams are Scary
Last night I dreamed one of those dreams that I just feel like I have to share. In this dream, I went to a doctor because I had cramps. The doctor gave me some kind of pills, which I dutifully began taking. Not that exciting so far.
Then I was home, packing my backpack for school. I was delighted to find that my work laptop fit in my backpack perfectly! (work laptop? but I was in school? what? but this is really not that weird compared to the rest.) Then I hopped in the shower to get ready for school/work (schork?) and there I discovered: I had a penis.
Then I was home, packing my backpack for school. I was delighted to find that my work laptop fit in my backpack perfectly! (work laptop? but I was in school? what? but this is really not that weird compared to the rest.) Then I hopped in the shower to get ready for school/work (schork?) and there I discovered: I had a penis.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Whiskey Burns
Time to get this blog back on track! Less self-exploration, more SEX STORIES! Woooo!
So while reading this one, it's probably best if you just pretend you don't actually know me. Although I suppose if nothing I've written so far has made you think less of me, nothing will, and as usual I have to ask myself if it matters. I mean... this is who I am. Sometimes I'm sweet and lovey and want nothing more than a solid, intimate, snuggley Relationship, and sometimes I'm raucous and slutty and out there. Just sort of depends on my mood and where I'm at in life, etc etc.
This story is clearly from a raucous slutty phase, although it wasn't planned. Back in the day, I was hanging out with these folks who were/are in a fire performing troupe. ("troupe" is such a weird word... sort of haughty, but also brings to mind images of dirty carnival people for some reason.) Some spun poi, some breathed fire, some did whatever else there is to do with fire. When I discovered they had not done vapor locks, I was shocked.
So while reading this one, it's probably best if you just pretend you don't actually know me. Although I suppose if nothing I've written so far has made you think less of me, nothing will, and as usual I have to ask myself if it matters. I mean... this is who I am. Sometimes I'm sweet and lovey and want nothing more than a solid, intimate, snuggley Relationship, and sometimes I'm raucous and slutty and out there. Just sort of depends on my mood and where I'm at in life, etc etc.
This story is clearly from a raucous slutty phase, although it wasn't planned. Back in the day, I was hanging out with these folks who were/are in a fire performing troupe. ("troupe" is such a weird word... sort of haughty, but also brings to mind images of dirty carnival people for some reason.) Some spun poi, some breathed fire, some did whatever else there is to do with fire. When I discovered they had not done vapor locks, I was shocked.
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