Wednesday, September 30, 2009


I was recently at a friend's house and he went into the other room, leaving me alone for a second to look around. Everything was neatly in its place. Everything was practical. His place is not empty by any means, it is comfortable and warm and very nicely styled. There are awesome little works of art on his walls. A sentimental photo or two. But, it was all very minimal. Clean.

I look around my room as I type this and am almost embarrassed to list out some of the things in my direct line of sight (a stuffed gall bladder, a wooden letter E, a Zack Morris phone, a snow globe of NYC, an Eiffel Tower, a Chilean three legged good luck pig). My room is by no means minimal. I have weird gadgets and whatnot. I'm like the Ariel (The Little Mermaid) of the studio apartment world. I have "treasures" all over my place. I am a collector. A collector of all things.

I know that the timing of this post doesn't hep the whole "I am not a hoarder" argument, as it comes dangerously on the heels of the In My Bed post. But really, I am not a hoarder. I just collect things, which I get is probably the same argument they use. But really, I'm not. Hoarder I am not. Collector I am.

This practice I have of collecting is not discriminatory. No, no, my friend. I don't just collect items in my apartment. I also collect friends and exes and a whole host of other things as well.

I guess this whole topic also comes up because I was having dinner with a friend tonight and we were discussing how to end relationships that are toxic. It's hard. I think I have shared quite a bit about my view on friendships, dating relationships, etc. I know you may have gotten a skewed version of me if you simply read about my bad dating experiences and how I walked away from those so easily. Don't be fooled though. I put my heart into stuff. I will give all of my soul to fix and mend things...even when it isn't mine to mend...meaning that I have many times in the past taken on fixing the wrong doings of others and have taken on some of the responsibility and burden that comes with "breaking" things. I collect the relationship in my heart. The person. I don't know how to let it go sometimes.

I'm doing much better at purging the bad stuff in my life than I used to. I guess you could say that I am becoming more selective on what it is that I collect and place sentimental value on. When something becomes toxic in your life, it is okay to walk away from it. This is a lesson I've learned with time. With lots of time. Walking away doesn't mean that the thing or the relationship or the person didn't have value at one time. That it wasn't the best thing for one time. But, time moves on and things change. Things evolve. Short of Alzheimer's or serious head trauma, memory of relationships or treasured possessions can't be taken away. I've had relationships that meant so much to me, but what I've learned or had to learn was that ending them is sometimes the best and healthiest thing. Cutting ties doesn't mean that at one point in time they weren't important. They just can't live on and hold the same value for all time. Things change. Not having them in my life anymore doesn't cheapen the past. It doesn't make it disappear. It will hold a special place forever in my history, but it needs to live my past.

I know this is a little all over the place, but I guess the point is to say that as I've come to realize with relationships the same can hold true for personal possessions as well. I can purge belongings from my life and not strip them of their one time importance.

So, I'm not suddenly going to become completely minimalistic. I'm not going to have a closet that will ever just have clothes, shoes, and maybe a box or two. I will always have stuff under my bed and knick knacky stuff on my shelves, but perhaps I will move forward with caution about what I choose to keep. Perhaps I will purge a little. Perhaps I will realize I don't need to hang on to that t-shirt from the company softball team from a company I don't even work for anymore. Perhaps I will realize that while I loved trolls as a kid, I don't need my entire collection as an adult. (don't tell my mom that though because it lives at her house and I am not quite there yet....this is all hypothetical)

I guess I just got to thinking after looking at my friends apartment and talking over dinner tonight:

If I make room by getting rid of some of the collections I don't really need to hold on to except in memory, what good things will I be making room for in my life?

And, just because I know you are wondering...below is a picture of my amazing stuffed gall bladder. It was a gift from a dear friend who knows that I needed one given that my original gall bladder was surgically removed.


Could there be anything cuter?

AC and I'm not talking Slater

I was tricked yesterday when I became very sleepy at 9pm. I thought, "This is your night. A full night's sleep is actually going to happen!" I was so pumped up for real sleep, during real sleeping hours. I ran to my bed and quickly fell asleep. Off to a good start....that quickly ended at 1am. That's right, four hours. After four hours I was wide awake again. I decided that I wasn't going to play this little game that I've been playing with sleep for over a month now. I decided to embrace my awakened state and spent my time very productively cruising the internet and watching tv shows online.

The weird thing was that when I woke up I heard this strange noise coming from my air conditioner. It sounded like it was mad or something. Well, it was. I opened the vent thing to find that it was all frozen and frosted up. I turned it off and pouted that I would have to wait for it to defrost before turning it back on. I think we have gone over my love for the AC before. I. Heart. Air. Conditioning.

Seriously, if there was a support group for people with an unhealthy love for air conditioning, I would collect chips and introduce myself to the group, "My name is Emily and I am an air conditioneroholic."

Anyway, I turned the fan on in my room and hoped the AC would defrost quickly. Well, at about 4 or 5am I realized it was fully defrosted. Mind you that it was solid ice, so it took a while. Anyway, I turned it back on and felt a moment of pure joy. I returned to my computer where I was obviously doing some very important work to find the local temperature displayed on my screen...48 degrees. Oh, and I am talking Fahrenheit. That's right ladies and gentlemen, I was trying to use the air conditioner when it was 48 degrees outside. I have a problem.

Before you freak out too terribly, I turned it back off and opened the window. Happy now?

Tuesday, September 29, 2009


Amazing? What?

I washed and folded four loads of laundry today.

Suck on that, dirty clothes.

Monday, September 28, 2009

in my bed

I have this weird habit of hoarding stuff in my bed. Let me clarify a few things.

My room doesn't look like this:

I'm not going end up like this poor woman and die in underneath the rumble in my home. And, my bedroom is my whole house given that I live in a studio apartment. So, let's stop the judging.

Anyway, about what I was saying...hoarding. I just spend lots of time in my bed. I am usually in or on my bed when I am home; therefore, a lot of stuff ends up in my bed.

So, let's play, "What's in my Bed?"

  1. 10 pillows (not too crazy)
  2. the remote for my DVD player
  3. a plastic bag
  4. two hoodies
  5. a toolbox
  6. two books, "I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell" and "The Five Love Languages"
  7. a pair of glasses
  8. a business card
  9. my cell phone
  10. a spoon
  11. a hair clip
  12. a receipt
Believe it or not, it has been worse.

Needless to say, "clean the room" is on tomorrow's agenda.

Friday, September 25, 2009

rain, rain, go away?

I just go off of the phone with Rebecca. While we were on the phone she asked, "Is it raining there as much as it has been here? I feel like it hasn't stopped for a month."

I responded, "No. It hasn't been raining that much." I then paused and said, "Well, I don't really go outside everyday, so I could totally be making that up."

Note to self: go outside or open blinds at least once a day.

vodka, sprite, and a splash of irony

I went to a charity event this evening. It was hosted by the agency I used to work for. The agency that just laid me off. (There is a little more to the story, but who really cares about details?)

All night (as I enjoyed the open bar) I kept giggling to myself thinking how funny it would be to go up to other attendees with tears in my eyes and say, "I hope they make enough money tonight for me to get my job back," and then walk away.

Thursday, September 24, 2009

#1: The Biggest Loser

I have to admit that I struggled with who to give the coveted Worst Date Ever award to. I've had so many winners...and by winners I totally mean losers. It wasn't all that the guys were losers. They weren't. Some of them were, in fact, very nice. We were just very not right for each other. Unfortunately, I've gone out on more dates that were bad than were good. I guess it would make sense though given that I am neither married or in a long term relationship. This is also not to say that I haven't gone on some amazingly wonderful dates. I have had my fair share, but it is always more fun to talk about the terrible ones in hide sight than the ones that made me go home and talk to my best friend and tell her how much I really liked the guy. This is also because I (to date) have not ended up with said guy, so I feel I have license to spill about the bad ones.

Anyway, as I was saying, I struggled to come up with Worst Date Ever. I really was leaning toward the date that ended with the guy telling me that I made him feel like a prostitute. Real fast, we had gone on several dates. I was never quite sure about him. I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was something not right. What I realized after....well, I made him feel like a prostitute and we didn't see each other again was that he was trying to sleep with me hard core on each of our dates. The irony of all of this is amazing. On our first date he drove me home and then said he might be too drunk to drive. I said that it was good I live in a neighborhood where it is really easy to get a cab. He then asked if I had a couch he could sleep on. I wasn't buying it. I responded, "not one you can sleep on." The second date we went to a show and went back to his apartment. He again gave the too drunk to drive excuse and said that I should just spend the night. No. I told him I was fine taking a cab. When he realized I wasn't budging, he agreed to take me home. On our third and final date we went out to dinner (it was BYOB and he brought a bottle of wine) and then went to a bar. He came up to my apartment and we did a stuff. Nothing crazy. It would just not be in a PG movie...or a PG-13 movie. I know it would make it into an R rated movie...they let anything go now a days. Anyway, midway through I started to realize I was very drunk and he needed to leave. I was not okay laying on the bathroom floor or resting my head against the toilet while he was there, so I told him he needed to leave. I apologized and said I really didn't feel good. Apparently my mistake was not throwing up in front of him to prove I didn't feel good. Despite another apology the next day and an explanation, he still said (and this is a direct quote), "for a second there, I kind of knew what it felt like to be a prostitute." Give me a break. Needless to say we didn't see each other again.

But no, he was not the Worst Date Ever. Close. But, he just gets an Honorable Mention. No, the Worst Date Ever happened on a little night called Election Night.

I have to make two disclaimers before I tell about this date:

  1. If you are in anyway related to me, for both of our sake, stop reading and skip to the next post. This is information neither you nor me will be happy you know about. While I am not about to spread all my business up on the internet, it is still more than you need to know about me. I am still the sweet and innocent person you know me to be. Don't let this disclaimer cause you to think otherwise. I'm just saying. It is in our mutual best interest if you don't continue reading. And, I would like to be able to look you in the eyes (and vice versa) at future family functions. So, move ahead. You will thank me for the information you do not know.
  2. This date perhaps was not the all time worst, but it goes on record for me as #1 because I will never be able to shake the memory of this date. It will haunt me. It will cause me to have to lie to my children. It is a moment in time I will never get to relive or experience. That's right...get ready.
We had been on a few dates at this point, but I have a habit of making dates on holidays. I don't even know how it happens. I guess since I don't have family that lives in town, I sort of skip over them in my mind. I end up making plans and then realizing it was a holiday. I've gone on dates on Easter, Father's Day, MLK Day, 4th of July (twice), Memorial Day, Labor Day, and Election Day.

I live in Chicago. I lived in Chicago during the 2008 Presidential Election. It was the most significant political moment of my lifetime. And, I was on a date. We went to dinner, but I had election fever and said I really wanted to get to a television to see the results as the polls came in. He obliged and we went to his apartment. His awesome apartment on like the 35th floor of a building with views of the Sear's Tower and the John Hancock Building. Just a few blocks away from Grant Park....where all the action was taking place.

When my children ask me where I was when the country elected our first African American President, what am I supposed to say? How do I tell them that I didn't really see it?

I will leave you with this very funny Saturday Night Live clip. Believe what you wish.

Sunday, September 20, 2009

#2: Jump Right in...

Clearly there is a purpose to dating. For most people, there is an objective. As I typed that last sentence, I felt it important to recognize that the objectives of people can be very different...some could be looking for a free meal, others a relationship, or some could be looking for "a good time" if you know what I mean.

My objective, if you will, is companionship or maybe all of the above. It would be nice to find someone I enjoy spending time with. It would be even nicer if the feelings were mutual. So, I guess the hope is that we both like each other enough that we want to keep spending time together and something more develops. Now, I'm not one of those girls fantasizing about my wedding. I don't have some weird scrapbook with wedding dresses cut out and cakes and flowers that I like. No, I didn't start imagining my wedding when I was five. It's just not me. That isn't to say that I don't want to get married one day. I do. I like the idea of loving someone for the rest of my life...and vice versa. But, I also am not in the wedding race that some people my age seem to have entered.

Oh, and let's be clear...this race is not exclusive to women. No, no my friend. Men have taken their number and put on their running shoes in this race to the alter. Exhibit A:

Our first date was fun. We went for drinks and tapas. We had good conversation and some good chemistry. We hopped around from bar to bar for a little while and on our last stop we sat at a table, he tucked my hair behind my ear telling me how much he enjoyed being with me and gave me a kiss. It was sweet. He offered to walk me home, but only after he asked me to come over and "watch a movie." Cute right? It was about 1am. We ain't watchin' no movie. I was very proud of my self control when I said, "No," because at this point I was feeling somewhat intoxicated. He walked me to the door, kissed me some more, asked if he could come in, I said no, and he left...saying he would call me. What happened next was weird. It was morning. Right, one minute I am saying goodbye and the next memory I have is waking my roommate's bed. (She was out of town.) I have no idea how I got there or why I was in there. My jewelry was on her dresser. It looked as if I walked in like I owned the place and just went to bed. Odd, right? In hind sight, I was probably roofied because I didn't have THAT much to drink and I've only blacked out once in my life...and I learned my lesson. This was not drinking black out.

Regardless, we went out again. I make poor choices. I think I said that before.

On our second date we went to this awesome restaurant and had a pretty good time. Although, he did ask me some odd questions about kids, when I wanted to have them, etc. Later in the night I agreed to go back to his place for a drink. Just a drink. Gosh boys and girls, I am a lady. We just kissed. I think.

But, sitting on his couch kissing was when it happened.

Date: I really like you.

Me: Thanks.

Date: No, I really like you. I've had a good time with you.

Me: I know. Thank you. I've had fun hanging out with you too.

Date: Like, I want you to be my girlfriend. What do you think of that?

Me: Uhm. Thanks. But, you don't really know me.

Date: Is there something I should know?

Me: Yeah. Do you even know my last name?

Date: Well, no. But, I know that I really like you and want to date just you.

Me: I'm not trying to be bitchy, but you don't know me enough to want me to be your girlfriend. You may get to know me better and change your mind...I may change my mind. Let's just get to know each other.

Date: It's just that I really like you.

Me: Thanks. But...

Date: So, no girlfriend.

Me: No girlfriend right now.

I get that it seems like perhaps he was just trying to sleep with me. Maybe he thought that would work on me. Clearly it didn't. But, I don't think that was the case. It became apparent that he was serious. Just wait.

As stated before, as stated before I sometimes make really bad choices. We continued to see each other and his push toward a serious relationship continued. His jealousy kicked in too at some point. He made weird comments about my roommates- two of whom were guys. Saying weird stuff, like how I should lock my door at night because they were probably trying to sleep with me. P.S. They weren't. He would also make comments about waiters or guys at bars. Oh, and not even a month in he made some comment about me fitting in nicely with his family...who I had not met.

Shortly afterwards I ended things with him. It all got too weird. The potential roofie incident. The asking me to be his girlfriend on the second date. The jealousy. The projections about "our" future. We didn't have a future.

Perhaps he wasn't racing to the alter, but he was racing for a commitment of some sorts from me. And, it freaked me out. I took some time off after him to figure out if it was the commitment that freaked me out. Or was it him? In the end, I realized that it was clearly him.

I spent some time feeling bad. Like, perhaps I should have jumped at the opportunity to be in a relationship. But why is it not okay to be alone? Why did I even make myself feel guilty for choosing to be single over entering a bad relationship? I like being single most of the time. And, I'm not going to suit up for the relationship race. I'll walk thank you. Get over it.

Friday, September 18, 2009

#3: Small Bar...Long Date

In the movies people on dates always have some escape plan. They have a friend call and they answer it stating there has been some emergency and they need to leave. There are a few flaws with this plan:

  1. It's pretty rude to answer your phone mid date. And, your date will be clued in to the fact that you aren't giving them your full attention if you are answering calls from anybody and everybody.
  2. You would have to be pretty comfortable lying because it's got to be something really off the wall to require you to leave in the middle of the date.
  3. You also have to be comfortable with your date knowing deep down you are lying....because seriously, you didn't forget an appointment or your roommate doesn't need you home for some emergency...
So you see, while in theory it seems like a flawless plan to have an out in the event that a date isn't going so isn't practical. Which leads me to the longest date ever.

Okay, it wasn't the actual longest. I've oddly been on some marathon dates. Longest date at this point has been 9 hours. (I know. Don't ask.) Anyway, this date just seemed to drag on forever because I didn't have an out. And, going by the flaws listed above in the escape plan, I'm not so good at #3. I don't know how to make an exit. I don't know how to wrap things up when they aren't going well. To this guys credit, he wasn't terrible. I just wasn't feeling it.

We met up at this bar in Chicago, which is supposedly the smallest bar in the city- Matchbox. It is teeny tiny. No room inside. It is basically- wall, bar, stools, wall. There was an outside area, which we sat in. For the record, I don't like sitting outside. For the sake of trying to keep a hold on my rambliness, I will go over that at a later date.

Anyway, we sat down at about 5pm and ordered drinks. I knew right away there was no connection at all. I felt like I was on an interview or something, which generally means you don't want to make out afterwards. We talked about all kinds of first date stuff- where we were from, where we went to school, what jobs we have done, etc. I was out of topics of conversation. It was about 5:30pm or 6pm. I was hoping he was feeling the same way because there was no sake in continuing this. No. He said, "Let's order food. I am starving."

What do you do? How do you tell someone you aren't having a good time and that a free meal isn't even worth staying? Do you stay?

In my case I did. To save you on the long drawn out details, I will share that the date continued until 10pm. I lost all filter and didn't follow rules on "things that shouldn't be discussed on a first date." We talked about gross youtube videos, throwing up, seeing eye ponies, conjoined twins, kittens, nose bleeds, traveling, Fraggle Rock, and a lot of other ridiculousness.

When the meal was over, drinks were drank, and we still sat verged on miserable. I would like to believe that he too was wanting to leave, but neither of us knew quite how to make an exit. Perhaps it is the Achilles heel of being too polite. Eventually at 10pm, I felt it was reasonable to say, "Man, I should go home. I have to be at work early tomorrow." That just didn't seem like an option at 8pm. He quickly agreed.

I'm not sure we hugged. We definitely didn't kiss. We said goodbye and both knew, we weren't going out again. I'm pretty sure it was the throw up talk that tipped the scales. And, I'd like to take credit for that one.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

#4: All You Can Eat is never sexy

Dear potential suitors,

Please take note of the details of this date...and do the opposite of everything that went down. The outcome will be better for both of us.


How excited was I got a call from my date two days prior to when we were supposed to go out and he asked if I wanted to go to a Cubs game? Very excited. Okay, I wasn't over the moon excited. There is nothing wrong with the Cubs, I'm not saying is just that since moving to Chicago I have been very spoiled in the the Cubs game attendance arena. My former roommate has season tickets and also sells shares of his games to friends. I split a share with another former roommate, which has resulted in my ability to attend many many games. Regardless, it is always a fun experience and a cool date. So, I was excited.

We made plans to meet at a bar before the game. Pre-game it a little. I called as I was on my way and he said we could grab a few drinks at the bar before "moving on." As the first inning was wrapping up I became slightly curious of when we would begin the long walk across the street to Wrigley seeing as how we had tickets and all and it didn't make much sense to watch the game on TV- tickets in hand. Right? Didn't "moving on" mean "to the game?" But, I'm not one to complain (at least not to someone I don't know really well....friends or complete strangers...all bets are off), so I didn't say anything and I slowly sipped my beer. He ordered another. He rambled on about how he worked for his dad, but didn't really do much. He said that he "worked from home," but did very little work. He continued by stating that he never woke up before 10am. None of this is terrible. I mean, I wouldn't brag to a date about doing "nothing" for a living, but whatever. And, I would love to sleep in forever. The weird turn came when he started talking about how much money he made a year and how his parent's bought his house for him.

Two things:

1. I don't care how much you make. Really. I don't. I'm not one of those girls. I mean, that's cool for those girls who want to be those girls. A guy will just never impress me with his bank account or material possessions. Just don't talk about it. I might like you less if you fact, I will.

2. After bragging about how much money you earn, how about we not mention Mommy and Daddy still buy you stuff...especially when that stuff is a HOUSE!

Back to the date.

Mid-way through the second inning I couldn't help myself.

me: So, were we going to head over to the game?"

date: Oh, no. I couldn't get tickets for a good price. Some guy was trying to sell them for like $90 and I'm not going to buy tickets for $90. Someone else offered me two rooftop tickets for like $110, but even if it is all you can drink and all you can eat. I'm not paying that much. I can get tickets for much cheaper.

me: (in my head) If you could get tickets for much cheaper why didn't you? AND, could you stop with the money talk? Just say it was crazy expensive and apologize. Oh, and another thing, why didn't you say that we didn't have tickets right away or when I called you on the way home from work?

me: (out loud) Oh, that's fine. Don't even worry about it. (fake smile. fake smile.)

date: (not quite sure because I was getting annoyed) I love where I live. It's so close to Wrigley....charge people to park....make lots of money...blah blah blah blah blah

After having another drink we decide to grab something to eat. The date proclaims that the drinks are too expensive at the bar and he doesn't want to pay that much for draft beer. Classy.

We decide to go eat sushi and this awesome little place near my house, which also turned out to be near his house. Because let the awesomeness continue...he lived one street over from me. Yep, ladies and gentleman, same house number and everything. One street over.

We get to the restaurant and date sees a sign for all you can eat sushi $29 a person. He proclaims that we should order the all you can eat sushi. I explain that I'm not all that hungry and I am not sure I can eat $29 worth of sushi. He doesn't listen. He orders it anyway. Oh, and when the server tells us that we have to eat everything we order of they will charge extra...I begin to freak out. He starts the ordering. When I suggest a spicy tuna roll he says that it is not expensive enough and we "really need to get our monies worth." Ohhhhh-kay. So he goes on an ordering spree. Gyoza, miso soup, veggie eggrolls, monster sushi rolls, beef teriyaki over rice...the order went on and on. I ate and ate and ate. All to a sound track of "you have to keep eating. We have to get our monies worth." Really? When I believe I ate my weight in raw fish and rice I waved the white flag. I couldn't do it anymore. And, one person is not suppose to get that stuffed....forced to get that stuffed on a date! He ate the remainder of the food. You know, don't want to be charged extra. It was terrible.

As I waddled back to my place...and his place as well he asked me to come see his house. I think it was the food coma that stopped me from even having the energy to say no. He walked me from room to room to show me his huge flat panel every room. Bedroom, living room, dining room, kitchen....BATHROOM. Not impressed. And, I think he finally got the hint because he stopped pointing them out midway through. He walked me out onto his deck and began to talk about the awesome barbeques he could have out there. He said, "You totally have to come over and we'll barbeque some time." Right.

He offered to walk me home, but I told him I would be okay. He gave me a hug and said he would call me so we could go out again.

He did.

I didn't answer.

I didn't eat the next day either.

Friday, September 11, 2009

#5: Mr. Personality

It was the kind of date that you go to work the next day and attempt to recreate the awfulness for your coworkers. There is one slight problem. You can't stop laughing. It is that sort of laugh that actors get when filming a funny scene. The production assistant has to keep coming into the frame and saying, "take ten." You try to start over. You get a few words out, "Well, he picked me up and we ended up going to a b....I can't." Usually the "I can't," is indiscernible. You can't get it out. You stand up straight, smooth yourself out, take a deep breath, "okay. He picked me up and we ended up going to a ga...." And then the laughing happens again.

Fortunately for you, I can giggle and type so you (unlike my coworkers) will get the story in one piece sans bursts of laughter.

This date had all of the makings of a good date. We had talked for a little while, text, g-chatted...things seemed to be good. He totally made me laugh and I would like to believe that my quick wit made him laugh as well. We were originally going to go out on Wednesday, but Tuesday as I was out shopping for an outfit with a friend for the date I got a text. "My friend is out of the country and lost her passport. Long story. Wanna meet up tonight? I'm in your hood." Ahhh. No, I'm shopping for our date TOMORROW. I'm not ready. I'm not ready, right? Well, luckily for me (or perhaps unluckily...jury is still out) I have friends that have strong influence over me.

A tangent...we're not talking peer pressure, "Try it you'll like it," kind of influence. No. If everyone jumped off a cliff, I would be sad. I wouldn't be off said cliff with everyone. I've gone to great lengths in the past to not fall into the dangerous traps of peer pressure (queue some sappy after school special music). I will save the story about my cigarette smoking seventh grade friend for another day...let's just say I listened to Nancy Reagan and just said no.

Anyway, my friends make suggestions...that is what we will call it. And, I have a tendency to listen to them within reason. So, she said, "Oh, you are going tonight. You have clothes to wear at home. I'm taking you home to get ready. Text him back." It was a blur, I couldn't think. Or, that is what I will chose to remember. See, this was her fault. Yep, her's.

I text back that it would be okay. About forty five minutes later I was walking out my door to meet him. But this was going to be good, right? We were totally getting along. Well, we hadn't met yet...I forgot to mention that. But, all communication had been really good at this point so how could things not go well?

I will tell you.

It may be more fun to just give you snippets of the date. Tiny slices of what happened over the next few hours. You will get the point. And, you won't have to suffer through it.

  • I met him and he said, "Hey," but in a way that was absent of personality. Yep, no personality...really, none. No inflection in his voice. Dry. We might as well have shook hands the way I do when I meet one of my parent's friends. The whole, we're never going to see each other again, but with a fake smile I nod my head and say, "It's nice to meet you."
  • The venue. We had discussed dinner, but he said he would think of somewhere to go and he would choose. When I asked where we were going he dryly shared we were going to a gay sports bar. Let it soak in. This was a first date. He had no personality. (Sidebar, I've been to this bar before. I love me some gay bars, but they are usually attended with my gay friends...NOT FIRST DATES!)
  • It was trivia night. It was movie trivia. I have seen like 20 movies. I can't even get started on that. But, I knew nothing. He practically rolled his eyes.
  • He ordered garlic cheese fries as an appetizer.
  • He named our trivia team after his friend- Jamie Lynne. I tried to make a joke about how Jamie Lynne Spears had just announced her pregnancy that day blah blah blah (she was a while ago). He didn't know who she was. And didn't seem the slightest bit amused.
  • He responded with one word answers to any of my questions. He didn't return the gesture of conversation making and ask any himself.
  • He did share that he grew up raising falcons with his father. Perhaps a conversation piece? I mentioned Royal Tenebaums (my favorite character raised a falcon). He looked at me and said, "Oh, I hate that movie." After I shared that it was my favorite.
  • We got the check and he asked if I wanted to get it or if I wanted him to get it. I suggested we split it.
  • He drove me home.
  • When we got to my house, he said, "I had a good time. We should do this again some time."
Yeah. I got nothing else, but a shit ton of laughing...still. Over a year later.

We never went out again.

Sunday, September 6, 2009

let the countdown begin

So, I did some thinking last night about this past year. I'm not really sure why I felt that Labor Day weekend was the time for a "year in review," but I'm doing it anyway. Well, lots has transpired since last Labor Day weekend. I moved out of the orphanage (the house I shared with four other people...the name is self explanatory at that point), I got a studio, I lost my job, I got another tattoo, I had a plethora of out of town guests, and I went on some terrible terrible dates. What a better place to show case the terribleness of those dates than here? Hold onto your f'ing hats and grab your socks. I'm gonna knock them off.

That's right kids...this week we are going to count down the five worst dates in dating history.

Get excited!

Friday, September 4, 2009

i'm not gonna make it in today

Sometimes when I get really bored I make up lists. It is a strange practice, I know. I'll give you an example: one day I had a terrible day at work and the train was overly crowded and I was generally in a funk...I made a choice to turn that funk around by making up a list of things I hate. I know that it seems odd, but as I wrote about hating when people take up two seats on the train, stubbing my toe, doing dishes by hand, people who pronounce really common words incorrectly, porta-potties, people who say they aren't hungry anymore after finding a hair in their food, etc....I started to feel better. You see, I just started laughing at all these things that got me fired up and I was suddenly in a better mood.

Well, when I was working I would frequently find myself with too much time on my hands. I prefer to be very busy at work because the stillness becomes mind numbing. I would often pass the time sending emails and surfing the internet. One day I was dreaming of being at home, so I decided to start a list of reasons one would give for not going to work. I decided to also include reasons for being late. And, I have to credit my friends because this list was emailed around and added to throughout the day.

So, next time you can't quite make it in to work...feel free to take one from the vault:

1. Throwing up
2. Migraine
3. Fever
4. Power went out
5. No hot water
6. Roommate went to the hospital
7. Dog threw up (won't stop)
8. "Not feeling well"
9. Family member ill
10. Insomnia the night before
11. Basement flooded
12. Car won't start (wouldn't work for me)
13. Dog ran away
14. Cat ran away
15. Friend had a baby
16. Stomach pains
17. up all night coughing
18. Toilet overflowing and have to wait for a plumber
19. Gas leak at house
20. "Personal emergency"
21. Stomach flu
22. Cramps/ heavy flow
23. Not safe to leave the house
24. Stalker
25. Car vandalized
26. Car accident
27. in jail
28. Abducted by aliens
29. Held for ransom
30. Lost
31. Hung over
32. Don’t feel like working
33. Doctor's appointment
34. Abortion
35. Food poisoning
36. Protesting
37. Panic attack
38. Religious holiday
39. Dizzy
40. Passed out in the shower
41. "Not feelin' it"
42. Diarrhea
43: parents surprised me with coming in town
44: pet died
45: dumped the night before
46: updating my resume
47: job interview
48: I might have swine flu
49. Sprained my ankle
50. I have other plans

P.S. 90% of these are a joke, but some asshole on the internet decided to write an article about how to properly call out...weird.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

being horizontal

So, I've been having trouble sleeping. Or, I've been having trouble going to sleep. And, in bed before 1am? Never happens. This is nothing that is a secret. I've blogged about it. And, if you are paying attention to the time stamps you are well aware of this anyway.

I talked to my doctor about it. He gave me this sleep program to follow to retrain myself. Basically, I need to pick a minimum sleep threshold and a time I want to wake up at. I can only be in bed for the minimum sleep threshold. so, if i want to sleep eight hours and wake up at 8am i am to get in bed at midnight. No matter how long it takes me to fall asleep I am suppose to get up at 8am. Eventually (or so he says) this will retrain me and put me back on a schedule. But, he strictly said, "You can not be horizontal for any other time during the day. No naps whatsoever."

I shared this with my mom. She responded, "What if you go on a date and want to have sex?"

"Ummmmm, ooookay. We're just going to pretend you didn't say that."

(The truth is though that I've made this same comment to most of my friends when discussing said sleep plan. I just don't need my mom to go there.)

there are two exits above the wing

Several years ago I went out for sushi with my older brother. I really love going out to eat with my brother. We get into some of the most interesting conversations. We sit for much longer than we actually need to and just talk. It may be a common trait of the men in my family. Well, those blood related to me. When I was little and my parents first divorced, my dad only took us out to dinner. He knew how to cook about three, he just chose to take us out. Anyway, my brother, dad, and I would get into the best conversations. We would sit for hours after eating just talking. And, it is one of my favorite memories of the two of them. Not one particular time, but the practice of doing it. Something about being in a restaurant allowed us to be really open and honest and really talk. We would have these great conversations. We would always say we would continue them after we left the restaurant...when we realized that we were the only patrons left. But, it was never the same. I don't know. Something about sitting at the table. It may be like sitting in a puffy chair at a counselors office. You just become so incredibly honest and open to discussion.

Anyway, my brother asked me, "What is it that you want in a relationship?" See, I have terrible luck with guys. Mainly because I have terrible taste and have an affinity for putting up with what I do not deserve. So, my brother posed this question to me. After some thought, I responded, "Well, I want someone who will come after me if I walked out the door."

I was very proud of my response. It seemed incredibly romantic. I imagined someone loving me with such a passion that they would never want to let me go. They would go to the end of the earth to be with me. I would be what gave them life.

My brother looked at me and responded, "That's fucked up."

What? How could my romanticized idea of perfection be "fucked up?" Well, I couldn't let this question go, I asked.

My brother began by saying, "You shouldn't be walking out the door." He explained that me romanticizing a relationship in which I leave was not healthy. Surely he didn't understand. See, this was romantic. I would storm out of the room. My lover would chase after me and grab me by the arm (in a nonviolent way) and tell me why he couldn't live without me. We would kiss passionately and live happily ever after because we knew how much we loved one another. We would go to any length to be together. We would fight for our love. See. Very romantic. How could my brother not understand this?

He continued to discuss this "walking out the door issue." Apparently he felt like it was immature and a way to test the love of my partner. As if I would leave in the hopes of them following. My brother said that his hope for me was that I would never want to walk out the door.

I had to let this sink in for a second.

Why did I romanticize walking out on my partner? Why did I feel that having my partner chase after me once I left was the recipe for an ideal relationship? And again, why would I be walking out in the first place?

It has been years since that conversation, but I think I know some of the answers to the questions I had so long ago. No, it isn't because I've met Prince Charming. No one has swept me off my feet. But, what I do have is a little more understanding of myself.

It was never about me walking out the door. I thought it was. I thought that it would be so wonderfully romantic to have someone chase after me. No, it wasn't about that. it was about trusting that they cared. You see, wanting a man to chase after me was how I felt as if I would know for certain that they loved me. That if they came after me, surely they loved me.

So, it wasn't about me walking out the door, but me knowing and believing that I was loved. It's a hard thing to do. To fully embrace someone's love for you. Well, it is for me at least. And, I am not sure I even know how to do that today. I still don't trust with full certainty some love that should be unquestioned. It's a flaw. I know.

But, if I were to find myself at dinner with my brother again and he were to ask me about what I wanted in a relationship, I would have another answer for him. I would share that what I would want was security. Security in our love. Faith that nothing could break it. I would know at the core that I was loved. And, I would have a knowledge that it is never to be tested. Not in the way I use to want to test love. I would allow the love to happen. I wouldn't create situations to have my partner prove it to me. I would be there. And the man I am with would be there too. Fully present in the relationship. Ups and downs. There. No walking out. No bailing. Because it would be worth it. And, I would always know that there is no door to walk out. For either of us.