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.

Wrap-up: Transcendent Power, Desk, Penes

In other words, business as usual around here.

BobGinger: working with dudes = nobody notices when you dye your hair  
hussyred: I KNOW  
hussyred: men are dumb  
BobGinger: in a week or so, one or two of them will be all "...did you change your hair?"  
BobGinger: if I go upstairs where there are women, women who only see me like twice a month, THEY will notice.  
hussyred: of course  
hussyred: the power stems from our lady parts  
BobGinger: i wonder if surgically created lady parts work
BobGinger: i mean, generally if you are having a vagina surgically put into your body, it's bc you figure you're a girl on the inside anyway  
BobGinger: so maybe the power is there...  
hussyred: true  
hussyred: the power transends the vagina

Re: Desk, I've decided there are enough damn olive branches out there and I can just hang on to mine. A friend of mine pointed out that physical chemistry means nothing if the relationship is otherwise toxic, and she's right. I'd already given it a lot of thought, and I replied to his email:

I just wanted to say that I appreciate the apology. You probably recall I told you that most people I trust end up hurting me, and I'm sure you realize you vaulted yourself quite spectacularly into that statistic, and with an alarming amount of what I felt was completely false conjecture or misunderstanding of things I'd said. So, thank you for this email.

As far as I'm concerned, that's that.

PENES! What is a blog post without mention of penes? Over the weekend I spent time with some lovely ladies, and there was extensive discussion of penes/penii. Highlights:

1. It is totally okay to tell a guy that he has "a great dick." Different girls have different ideas of an ideal member, but when we see one that's just fantastic, we know... and we think you'd like to know, too.
2. "Pesions" = "penal lesions" = a phrase we hope to never have use of ever again.
3. Sometimes girls just need sex. It's true. "I want you to shut up now and fuck me" is not just a dude thought.

Desk: the Sequel

If you've been reading this blog since its inception, you already know who Desk is. If you don't, I have created a handy label so you can easily find all posts re: him, both the good and the bad, because apparently even though we did not date long, he is destined to be an important piece of my life. These things happen.

The latest, which some of you know, is that last night I got an invitation for that professional networking site LinkedIn from none other than Desk himself. I stared at it for quite a while. My body felt all funny and I was sure that I was somehow misreading the name on the email. His first name is pretty common... but no, his last name is terribly unique and it was definitely Desk. I even clicked on it to see his profile, and the job description matched up. WHAT.

I wondered what the hell he was thinking. Now, I am a curious sort, especially when it comes to things like relationships and how brains work and how people think. I'm also prone to knee-jerk reactions, spontaneous decisions, and obsessing... so I was not even remotely surprised when, after trying for about 10 minutes to ignore the whole thing, I hit reply on LinkedIn and wrote, "This is a joke, yeah?" Mostly I just wanted to express my surprise to him; I didn't truly expect a response.

Internet: he wrote back.

Carcinogens: Everything

What do you think? Should I send this list to Desk and see if it totally paralyzes him?

(note: I'm not making fun of cancer. Cancer sucks ginormous hairy monkey ass. I'm making fun of Desk, because he's a poopy-head and that is what overgrown children like me do to poopy-heads.)

Desk: The Email, Pt 2

(Prologue here -- Email, Pt 1 here)

I told you it was the longest email ever! So let's keep going, because I don't think I've been insulted enough... and I'm just going to ignore his misspellings but you should know I SEE THEM.

None of those things on there own is particularly damning, it's just
taken together I can't help see the patterns emerge.  It naturally
leads me along another line of reasoning, to wonder if maybe you have
fallen prey to believing some lies about yourself...that you aren't
beautiful, that you need anti-depressants, that you must smell a
certain way to fit into this culture.

Actually, my nose is what tells me how I should smell, and I prefer to smell nice.

I see you not trusting your beauty so you hide it.  I see you 
hooked by big Pharma on products that don't cure your depression 
and decrease your ability to experience orgasm.

"big Pharma"? What? So medicine that helps me not want to kill myself is bad, but smoking pot every single day (which he does) is perfectly acceptable? And since when can I not experience orgasm? Oh yeah, that ONE time, the last time we were together, the night you ranted about the environment and I just wasn't feeling it with you so I said "it's not gonna happen." THAT time. Yep. Must've been the meds.

Winner: Best Comment

I get some really excellent comments on this blog, partially because the blog content just sets itself up for that, and partly because so far, it would appear my audience is made up wholly of people I know, and I know awesome people. But this comment, from Desk: The Email, Pt 1, just takes the cake. And we know how much I love cake.

Dear Weiner:

Congratulations on winning. You obviously won so hard. Way to hate on macaroni and cheese! That shit is obviously for babies. Also, parents are overrated. People need to stop liking those things.

Props for being so manly, and not vindictive or whiny! You practically built the high road.

Sincerely,
Dreams Roughly the Size of a Pet Store as Well

Thanks, akachan, for making me laugh on a day when I'm feeling poopy!

Desk: The Email, Pt 1

(Prologue of the Desk story here)

Oh, yes, the email came. And friends, what an email. It is really, really long (that's what she said). I went to a party the Friday night after our fallout, and when I came home around midnight, I popped online to check email. And there it was.

The Longest, Meanest Email Ever.

Maybe not ever, that's a big statement... but still bad. Funnily enough, when he was badgering me about opening up and letting down walls, I told him it was hard for me because 9 out of the 10 people I chose to trust and open up to ended up hurting me. He acted like that was sad and he wouldn't be that guy. (They ALL act like they won't be that guy. THEY ARE.) Then I get this email, which is, in a word, rude.

I was going to post all of it, but I'll just pick out the REALLY offensive bits, and you, dear readers, should rest assured that the whole thing was really pretentious and offensive and awful. It's still going to get super long, but bear in mind throughout that this isn't even the whole thing...

Maybe I'm Childish...

...or maybe just sating the curious minds out there. What happened with Desk? people are asking. No, they really are, I'm not just using that as a ruse to start a blog entry. I debated a while, but ultimately I've decided to go ahead and share EXACTLY what happened with Desk.

I wasn't sure I would write this, because at some point, he did have the address to this blog; however, I'm pretty sure he never read it. It's probably beneath him. That and this blog's entire purpose is to tell the weirder tales from my dating life, and this is in the top ten now. So I'ma tell it! If he reads it, well... Hey, dude, you shouldn't have been such an ass. Maybe going forward I should ask guys I date and/or sleep with to sign waivers?

Before it hit the end, we already knew: he's too serious, I'm too goofy, we figured it wouldn't work. He demanded I lower my walls, I conceded. I cried in front of him, opened up, told him things. Me crying in front of someone is kiiiind of a big deal, so that was actually an important step for me. We continued to see each other once or twice a week, screw our brains out, talk, laugh, get drunk and stoned, text each other. Things were all right.

I knew it wasn't a Relationship, although I also knew we were exclusive sexually, for health reasons (we'd talked about this), and I didn't care about anything else. I knew he wasn't someone I wanted long-term, nor was I someone he wanted long-term. But I figured, we were fucking, so we must at least be friends. And friends go to each others' homes, meet each others' friends. And yet, we only hung out at my place.

Enter the naked bike ride. I met someone there, later that night got very drunk with him, and we made out. That's it, nothing else, but we Made The Fuck Out. It requires capital letters. It was a long, drawn-out, and quite public session of face-sucking. And it was fun. I haven't seen him since, and I'm not crying about it. But it reminded me of what it was like to just let go and have some fucking FUN with someone I found attractive.

My next date with Desk was a few days after that. I got him to agree to go out to dinner for once, but still... everything felt a bit forced. I wanted to laugh and joke; he wanted to have Discussions as usual. Somehow at the end of dinner, he went off on some rant about people just not thinking about things, and how can they not think about things. This went all the way back to my place. By then, we were on the topic of the environment and HOW can people NOT THINK about this? (says the guy driving a piece of shit car that's falling apart and probably putting out more pollutants every time he drives it than my car does in an entire week)

Still, we go in, watch a movie, bonk - but the sex is different this time, as I'm just not into it and he can tell. He gets ready to leave. I say something about seeing his home. I'm thinking, we keep hanging out and fucking, so why don't we ever do it at his place? He kind of... freaks out. It's weird. He gets super twitchy, says I still have "too many walls," and for him "it takes time" and he "has to be comfortable" and all this other rot. He tells me if I don't deal with my "walls" that I'm going to "go back to sitting alone in [my] apartment." What. Then he spouts, "I thought my intentions were clear when we started." "Oh," I replied, thoroughly done with the entire conversation and just wanting him to leave. "You're right." I hugged him, said goodbye, and closed the door. I'd decided right then and there that the feeling I'd had earlier that evening that we were through was, in fact, what was to be. It was over.

1. SO VERY SERIOUS PRETENTIOUS
2. Didn't wear deodorant ("it causes cancer" - right, because those cigarettes you smoke don't)
3. So, I have to drop all my walls immediately, even though we've only known each other a month, but YOU need TIME to "be comfortable" before you can introduce me to your home or your friends? Double standard much?

The next day, I got a text from him apologizing for "acting passive-aggressive" the night before, and that he was writing out his feelings in more detail and would send it to me when he was done. I read the text, shrugged, and put down my phone. I honestly didn't care what he had to say. I considered replying saying something along those lines, but couldn't even muster up enough interest to do that. When a couple of days went by with no email, I hoped he'd just dropped the idea and we could go our separate ways without further Discussion.

Ohhhh no. That was not to be.

TO BE CONTINUED....

(note: a friend suggested I do one day a week dedicated to the really good Jerk Stories. So Mondays now will be Douchebag Day, until I run out of those stories. The rest of the week, I'll just post whatever comes to mind. So, yes, you have to wait until next Monday to get Desk: The Email, Pt 1.)

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.

SERIOUS POST DONE

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!

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.