Boys boys boys boys

Boys I do adooooooore!

I started writing this e-mail to my girlfriends and then realized after I finished the entry on B that it got super-long. So... instead, I'm going to serialize it. Leave you wanting more. (Or wanting me to stop writing them, whatever.)

I know it's been a while since I have spoken to some of you on the phone, but I wanted to try and fill you in on what's been going on in my life as of late. Well, more like who. Work's fine. I'm heatlhy. Mom and Dad are great, and Dan's doing well, too. He's excited about getting the hell out of South Carolina, even if it means that he's going to be going to Iraq to do it.

The most interesting developments, perhaps, have been in the romance department. Let's start with the old. You all know how I feel about C. C is my non-boyfriend. We still talk at least a few times a week, we make plans to see each other at every opportunity (though those are few and far between), and we talk about marriage and child-rearing, though not ever about our marriage or our children. I don't think I have all that much more to add, except that I've pretty much told him at least twice that I would be willing to forego dating other men if he could promise me he wouldn't date other girls. Which actually means I want him to be my boyfriend. We had this discussion about how he feels like the title is overrated and puts too much pressure on the relationship, and with the two of us being 3,000 miles apart and God only knows where he'll end up for his residency, there's no point in trying. I think there is, but there is no way in hell that a long distance relationship will work when one person is less than totally committed to trying to make it work. So there went that idea. I am disappointed, but whatever. So I decided to start dating again. But I told C I wouldn't let them see my boobies. So far, so good.

After the conversation where I put my ego on the line and told him I'd like to see him exclusively (and after his brutal rejection), I decided I deserve better than to pine after some guy who isn't sure he wants to be with me. Now, don't get me wrong, I haven't written him off completely. He and I have this weird chemistry. We just click. I believe that actions speak more loudly than words, especially for men of few words like C. Might I remind you all, even as you're shaking your heads in disapproval, that C came to visit me in LA for his Thanksgiving break, even though he was supposed to hang with the guys in NYC. And that he also came and stayed with me in NoVa over Christmas break when he could've been kickin' it with his boys. I appreciate that, and I know that for him, it's a big deal, even though he'd never admit that.

At the same time, I don't want to put my life on pause, so I'm going to date other guys. C's right; there's no telling where either of us will be a year from now. But it's been hard for me to be completely open to any male advances bc in the back of my mind, I still hope things with C somehow come together. In the meantime, I'm half-heartedly attempting to find a guy in LA who might change my mind for me. If I like a guy enough, I'll alert him in to my non-boyfriend
situation. If I start liking a guy, I'll let C know. I want a man who will fight for me. But he has no incentive to fight right now bc I am so apparently smitten with him.



Ugh. I can't even write about it any more. Let's talk about the new boys.

B and I met back in September over Labor Day weekend. You remember unidentified penis man? When Natalia was visiting me, we went to Cabo Cantina and got smashed there, neither of us remembers much from that night. When I woke up the next morning and started looking
through my pictures, I found a picture of a penis. Yeah, that was B. He is the kind of guy who has a very juvenile sense of humor. He's 30 and he still thinks stuff like that is funny. And I'm not gonna lie; I think it's funny, too. It's just that I'm not entirely sure I'd appreciate a guy I was dating to randomly whip his wang out and leave evidence of it on strangers' cameras. Hmm. That was probably not the best way to introduce you guys to B. Let me start over.

B's 6 foot something and 200 lbs. Big guy, but not fat. Just meaty.



B intrigues me. He's unlike anyone I've ever met. He's a party-loving frat boy and a perfect gentleman all at once. He never finished college, twice, but he strikes me as an incredibly
intelligent guy. He's opinionated on social and political issues (and he doesn't always agree with me and stands by his opinions) but he has an unfortunate tendency to mix up "you're" and "your" in his e-mails to me. You guys know how much I hate it when people forget basic grammatical rules. Some rules are ok to break when writing e-mails, but "your" and "you're" are not interchangeable under any circumstances. That is like, a hair away from being a dealbreaker for me. But I was delighted to discover that he's a big big BIG dork. Like... in college, he used to play that card game "Magic: the Gathering" and he was actually a nationally ranked player, playing in Magic tournaments and stuff. He likes books about dragons and shows like Battlestar Galactica. And he loves computer games. He's kind of a nerd, but he hated school. He tried to do the college thing twice: once at the University of Colorado, and then at University of Illinois- Urbana Champaign. He feels like he has to prove himself to people bc he never graduated from college. He quit school, decided he hated the cold weather in Chicago, and moved to the Caribbean to teach sailing and be the fun guy for Club Med resorts. After a couple years out there, he moved to LA and made ends meet by bartending. Now, he owns his own business "screwing shit into walls," as he puts it. Basically, he sells used needle disposal bins to hospitals and also installs them. He travels constantly bc he's a people person kind of guy and he knows that in order to win contracts, he has to put in the face time to build relationships. He's an insta-friend. You meet him, and while he's a little over the top for some people, most people take an immediate liking to him bc he's funny and witty and makes you laugh. He once won $47,000 on the Wheel of Fortune. And he loves the Vegas. Once, he wore a tux out and told everyone he was supposed to get married and got left at the altar. Got free drinks all night long and thought it was the funniest joke in the whole world.

He got my number at Cabo and never called me. I didn't think anything of it. We had had a very good conversation which ended with me giving him my number and him promising to call and take me out on a date. When he never called, I figured it was just meaningless drunk talk.
Well, a few weeks ago, I got a MySpace message from him, and it went something like this:

Hey-
This is probably the most random message you will get today. I hope
you remember me. I am B and we met at Cabo about 3 months ago. I
used to work there but I had quit when we met. We had had a pretty
good conversation that concluded with me asking you out. Now, if you
don't remember me, then this message probably just got a little
awkward. I'm not making this up. You can ask anyone who works at Cabo.
You probably can't ask them if we met or anything but they will vouch
that I worked there. At any rate, not long after, I destroyed my phone
in a terrible accident (I sat on it while it was open). My work has me
out of town at least 4 days a week for the next month or so but I
would still like to at least chat again sometime. I would say grab a
drink but I have sworn off booze for the near future and it looks like
you might have done the same. You can MSG me if you are interested or
you can call me. (phone number here). I fly out to the Bay area
tonight until Sunday and on Sunday I fly to Akron, OH (which I hear is
a happening place this time of year). I'll be back Wed morning until
Sat when I head off to Harrisburg, PA. Way too much info but I'll have
my phone and should have computer access most of the time. I hope to
hear from you.
-B

I was curious as to how he found me on MySpace bc it's not as though we have any mutual friends. So I asked him how he found me on MySpace. I wanted to know if he had randomly browsed and somehow landed on my page or if he had actively searched for me to try and contact me. He didn't really answer the question properly.

My ex-girlfriend Lindsey(you can see her on my friend list) invited
me. She said it would be a great way to keep in touch since she no
longer lives in LA. At first I resisted prefering to talk to people in
person. As a poor second choice, sometimes I talk to people on a
phone. I don't like e-mail and I can't stand IMing people. I type to
slow.
Now that I am on Myspace, I realize my ex invited me as revenge for
dumping her 2 years ago. This thing is horribly addictive and I now
spend two hours a day writing messages to people and searching for
long lost friends. 2 hours a day I could actually go out and talk to
people who are actually there, you know, in person. This shit is more
addictive than crack. As evidence, I site the fact that I have never
been addicted to crack, yet now I am somewhat addicted to Myspace.
Oh well.
I am glad you responded and I'll call you when I get back to town. No,
really this time.
-B

"Preferring" has two r's. "To" is not the same as "too" or "two." But I'm willing to overlook that because his messages made me laugh. Plus, he sought me out. He remembered my name and he looked for me. I thought that was kinda cute.

He did take me out to the long-awaited dinner, and it was great. I was pretty nervous before hand. I don't know about you guys, but this was the first proper "first date" I've ever been on. You know, that thing where you meet a guy, he gets your number, you talk, and then he takes you to dinner. In my case, it's a little more convoluted. He got my number, we didn't talk, he found me on MySpace and suckered me into a long-delayed date with his little jokes, and then finally took me to dinner three months later. He took me to this really cute steak and seafood restaurant in Santa Monica called Chez Jay's. It's this tiny, hole-in-the-wall place by the beach with great food, a Santa Monica staple. Neither of us drank any alcohol. We had lots and lots of diet Coke, and sat talking for three hours. Yeah. Sober. He is laying off the booze until he gets below 200 lbs and well, as for me, I had just come out of a terrifying New Year's Eve. Do you know how weird it is to not drink alcohol when you're with a guy you barely know? Surprisingly, though, the conversation flowed well and perhaps more importantly, I remembered all of it the next morning. Why? Because I was sober. I've gotta try this sober thing more often. =) He dropped me off at my house and walked me to my door, and gave me a kiss on the cheek good night.

He's hilarious. But he's so funny that I don't know if I could take him seriously. He seems like the kind of guy who would hide behind jokes when it came to discussing things like feelings. Like if I got mad at him, he'd turn it into a big joke, which could potentially be more frustrating than a man who'd just get made right back at me. And I wouldn't want my boyfriend getting drunk and leaving pictures of his penis for everyone to see. But I don't feel like I should go into seeing someone hoping to change him, even if the change is in asking him not to take pictures of his penis, no matter how big a kick he gets out of it. That said, I had a great time with him and he came out to see me the next day when I was out at a bar, though he only stopped by briefly. This Tuesday night, we're doing dinner and playing Scrabble. We argued about which dictionary to use. He insists the Scrabble dictionary contains fake words. I can't really argue with him, bc I don't believe "et" or "qaid" or "qat" are words, but the Scrabble dictionary is so useful with all of its two-letter words and "q" words that don't need a "u" and the phonetic spelling of letters of the alphabet like "zee." "Zee" is not in Webster's, I'll tell you that much. So we're using Encarta instead. If he can beat me, I will definitely go on a third date with him bc he'll score some major points.

Aside: C can beat me in Scrabble, fair and square.

OKAY. B and I had a great date tonight where we went to get ghetto Mexican and then played Scrabble with the Klein. He beat me at Scrabble, fair and square. In fact, he beat me more than fair and square since Klein and I were ganging up on him. He had 200 and I ended up with 199. He gets a third date.

He also kissed me on the lips. After asking if it was okay. Is that a new thing? When guys ask if it's all right that they kiss you? Dude, I'm all puckered up and ready to go, get on with it already! Follow through...

When it rains

It pours. The drought has endeth and now I'm caught up in a veritable torrent of... the mens.

Let me try and sum up my love life for you in a nutshell: the nutshell currently runneth over. And that's not a good thing. Boy 1: I want him to be my boyfriend but he won't. Boy 2: Really hot but I'm afraid he might be gay. Boy 3: Super fun but don't know that I could ever take him seriously. Boy 4: Recently shed himself of troublemaker friends and wants to hang out.

I try and keep my references to the men in my life relatively vague, especially in the case that I have feelings or still care about him. I don't want my vulnerabilities exposed to everyone on the internet, I guess, but I'm also afraid that the guy I write about may see it. That would suck.

Secretly, though, (not so secret now, huh) I wish he knew all of the things I'm too chicken shit to say to him. I wish he knew that I'd gladly swear off of dating and embrace quiet nights. I wish he could trust me. Follow through...

The allure of the bad boy

Nobody makes me cream my panties quite as quickly as the bad boy. You all know one. He wears dark sunglasses and a sexy five'o'clock shadow and is often spotted with a motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm and a cigarette dangling from his lips, oozing sex appeal. Very reminiscent of James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause. He drinks Jack and he shoots pool and pretty girls in miniskirts are always fawning all over him. It's because he is a brooding, mysterious bad boy. You probably don't know very much about him. In fact, he's probably very difficult to get to know because he is a man of few words. Verbal communication's just not his thing. You ask him questions about where he's from, what his family is like, and what he enjoys doing in his spare time, aside from shooting pool and riding his motorcycle off into the sunset. He's your modern-day cowboy. But you're hard-pressed for answers. He answers tersely. He leaves you wanting more; this is without question the most crucial component to the bad boy allure: the constant tease of fulfillment. So when he nonchalantly mentions that he and his parents don't really get along that well, you are excited. Not because he doesn't get along with his parents, that'd be screwed up, but because he shared this precious little morsel of intimate information with you. And then you wonder why he doesn't really get along with his parents that well, but you have to wait until he's ready to share that with you. And he always gets to decide when. As the morsels slowly accumulate, you start to put the bigger picture of his personality together, and it's like you've been let in on this huge secret that no one else is privy to, and you feel special. Actually, it can go one of two ways. It's at this point that the allure either becomes solidified or begins to evaporate. Some things are better left to the imagination.

But why is he so magnetic? Why can't you stay away from him even though you know that (a) you have to have the patience of a monk because that's about how long it'll take for him to let you in, (b) your parents and close friends will disapprove (though they'll probably all secretly agree that he's super-hot), (c) he'll probably break your heart in spite of your best attempts to break him in, and (c) you can't change him?

You want to save him. You want to save him from his delicious badness (and occassionally you might even want a taste of it), from his chaotic life of booze, bikes, and billiards. He intrigues you, draws you in, and then you want to protect this tough bad boy who's really not all that tough deep down inside, and only you would know, because you've seen that deep down inside. Follow through...

Wanted: the quiet life

I was lying in bed chatting with Natalia online and watching the USC/ Texas game in my underwear when Megan comes barging into my room smelling strongly of liquor and cigarettes, demanding that I get dressed and accompany her back to the bar. She'd been at Q's since 3, tailgating before the game started at 5, but I really didn't feel like getting up and putting clothes on to go watch the game in a crowded bar full of drunk football fans. Not that I have anything against drunk football fans; I'm just tired and I want to lay in bed in my underwear and eat peanut butter straight from the jar. Is that so wrong?

Megan left disappointed. I refused to get up even after excruciating naked tickle torture (I feel so violated) and a couple of very painful smacks on the butt. So I returned to my conversation with Natalia and it went something like this:

Me: I don't want to go out. I just want to stay at home and have someone to play Scrabble with.
Natalia: I couldn't get my fitted sheets on my bed by myself and I really wanted a boyfriend there to help me.
Me: I totally know how you feel.

Yes, yes, yes... women need to be independent and needn't feel incomplete in the absence of male companionship. I know. But geeeeez. Sometimes I can't reach the top shelf and sometimes I want to spend a quiet night in bed reading a book or playing a rousing (haha... a-rousing... I'm so cool) game of Scrabble or cuddle with something other than my pillow when I watch sappy DVDs. I firmly believe that it's important for a woman in a relationship to have her own life separate from that of her boyfriend's, like having a group of friends who are not his friends, like having her own place/ space, and having some occupation whether it's a job or school or hobby that doesn't include him. I'm all about the together time, but I feel like there's got to be some girls' nights and boys' nights.

(Aside: this is a really really good game. I've been trying to type while watching, so it's taken me like an hour to get this far in the entry. Evenly matched, well played by both sides. And Vince Young was aMAZing. Much like his buttocks.)

I've been watching a lot of Sex and the City lately. It's the season where Carrie has the short hair and Miranda first has her baby. Carrie's all cynical and sad and is losing faith in love. There are these publishing ladies that want to compile some of her columns into a book and they ask her what the overall tone of the book would be: is there hope or should we all hang ourselves now? And the answer at the end of the episode was that tribute should be paid to the eternal optimists, our Charlottes. The ones who believe in love no matter what, even when that faith is tested time and time again. To some extent, there's a little bit of Charlotte in all of us, I think. No matter how jaded I think I've become; no matter how jaded my friends and I become, even as we throw our hands up in frustration and worry that we'll die alone and be discovered three days later after our cats have eaten our faces off, still, hope lives on. Follow through...

On the verge

Of giving up. I had a disheartening chat with an ex-turned-confidante today. I'm thisclose to throwing up my hands and giving up in the game of love. We were talking about reciprocity in relationships. It never seems to be even. One person always seems to dig the other person more. Sometimes it works out. When you meet your match, the one who can challenge you but still stay on the same level as you, that's it. Game over. But more often than not, one person is the chaser and the other simply concedes.

All of that is kind of a given. That isn't what depresses me. What depresses me is that during the course of our conversation, it became more and more apparent to me that the average guy suffers from a constant case of grass-is-greener syndrome when it comes to women. Particularly, the meticulous, borderline-anal, diligent nerdy types I find myself inexplixably attracted to time and time again, those guys are the worst because they can't shake that nagging feeling that there's something better out there, whether it's a better woman or a better job or a better lifestyle. I think women are more accepting of flaws. They don't expect their men to be absolutely perfect. Of course, there are the deal-breakers like furry backs or nervous ticks or chronic unemployment, but I think women are more forgiving when a man doesn't meet every item on her wishlist, and less inclined to stray if they've found a man they love.

The average man, however, can see better than he can think. So even when he's in a committed relationship, if he meets a girl that he thinks has the potential to meet more of his wishlist criteria, he becomes curious. He doesn't always stray, but he wonders if the cool girl he ran into at those parties is really as cool as she seemed the first few times he met her. If he pursues her, he's bound to discover that she, too, falls short of his fantasy. Most of the men I know have an ideal woman in mind. And whether they are cognizant of it or not, they chase this nonexistent figment of their imaginations, often leaving behind them a massacred trail of broken hearts. The hardworking, responsible types I tend to fall for are the types of guys who are annoyed by my flightiness and lack of planning and eagerness to cut corners in non-relationship-related arenas like school (I hardly ever attended class in college and cranked out 20 page papers in one night) or work. It bugs them that their mate may not be as dedicated as they are *gasp* to their work. They want the "good girl" type who is polite and proper but cute and fun, who works hard in school and after school trying to climb up that corporate ladder, who has had maybe one or two boyfriends but is not necessarily prude, the type you might run into at church or at the corner coffeeshop reading the latest bestseller. I'm not saying all guys dig that type of girl. I'm saying the ones I like always do.

Enter me: loves to party, dance, drink, and socialize. I work hard for the things/ people that I love. I am passionate, mostly about my loved ones. I'm the type of girl who flits about aimlessly, but when I fall, I fall like a wrecking ball at a demolition site: hard, fast, and a little dangerously. Except at a demolition site, someone's taking precautions to make sure no one gets hurt. There is no such caution exercised when I fall.

I'm not the perfect girl my nerdy boys have been chasing in their dreams. But I think they're being too closed-minded. Maybe I'm just what they need. I can be the kite, head in the clouds and a little unpredictable, and they can be my anchor, ground me, give me something stable to hold on to and come back to. I can't help falling for these guys who have an entirely different girl in mind as "the One." Wake up, fellas. The perfect woman is not some fish you have yet to meet in this vast sea of dating possibilities. She doesn't exist. At some point, you're going to find a fish who might not be as brilliant as you'd like, whose scales might not be quite as shiny as some of the other fish-chicks, who, God forbid, may not come from the best fish family in your neck of the sea, but who loves you unconditionally, despite all your shortcomings. You may not get to check everything off on your wishlist, but don't think of it as settling for something less than you deserve.

Life is not a movie. You can fall in desperately, hopelessly, perfectly, can't-live-without-you kind of love with a person who doesn't fit into some pre-conceived mold. Maybe there's a better mold out there for you that you just don't know about yet. Maybe I'm partly to blame since I can't seem to stop being attracted to the meticulous, borderline-anal, diligent nerdy types. Maybe I'm being hypocritical. If I liked a different type of guy, maybe he'd be more inclined to like me back. It's masochistic, really, going for a guy you know probably won't like you back as much as you like him. But don't let me give up, guys. Love me for who I am, dammit. Look no further. Follow through...