in which i tell you a story about how technology hates me...

Yes, once upon a time there was a girl who tried to live harmoniously with the technology that rules modern day life. She had a computer, a smart phone, an iPod, and....well, okay maybe that is it...but still. This girl loved the technology and how it advanced her life. How could she ever tell time without a cell phone? Or, how could she keep in contact with friends and family without a computer and access to email? She couldn't, right? Unfortunately, the love was not mutual. Technology hated her.


A year ago her motherboard completely fried and she lost everything. The frying of said motherboard may or may not have occurred while she was viewing the personal website of Joey from Real World Hollywood and Celebrity Rehab 3. A mistake I will never make again because I am confident that it caused the crash of my computer. Don't risk it! Anyway, it turns out that the motherboard was recalled so HP fixed my computer for no money. There was a cost though...it cost me all of my data. Big sad face. I tried to get over it. Surprisingly, Apple helped ease the pain by allowing me to redownload the hundreds of songs I had purchased on iTunes that were now lost. Big kiss to Apple. For real.

So, I learned my lesson and purchased an external hard drive. (Full disclosure: purchase of said external hard drive took about a year...so what) All would be right with the world, correct? I could live through another computer catastrophe because all my data was safe and sound on my little black passport. When my computer was infected by a virus, I confidently performed a system restore. All my data was safe, so I didn't care if I had to wipe everything off my computer.

I didn't care until about two or three weeks after restoring my computer when I plugged in my external hard drive and it made a crazy noise and didn't work. That's right boys and girls. DEAD! The asshole Geek Squad man was less then apologetic or understanding and said, "it's a machine. they break." When I said all of my data was on the hard drive he shrugged his shoulders.

That's right. No picture, no music, no nothing. Clean slate. So, one year later I again had to kiss Apple's ass and send them an email begging for the rights to redownload my music. Once again they came to my rescue, which basically makes me heart them. Although, I am thinking I should just switch to a wind-up clock, a bicycle powered television, and a solar powered watch because technology clearly has it out for me.

2010-1981 does not 35 make

Yesterday afternoon I rode the L home and overheard the conversation below. It's probably a little more fun if I set the stage.

I am not a good judge of age. Hell, you could be 15 or 25 in my book. 30 or 52. I don't know. I've never been able to tell how old people were. When I waited tables, I thankfully rested on the "gotta card everyone" policy. I would have accidentally served minors all day long had I not been required to check. I just can't tell.

Flash forward to my L ride. Three girls get on a stop after me. No clue how old they are. I notice them, though, because they are making a hell of a lot of noise. Talking loudly. Laughing. Generally shattering the quietness that existed before their entrance onto the train car. So, I can't help but stare at them. (It's a bad habit.) They look like my age. I guess. But, there are a few things off. I had a strong feeling these girls were definitely NOT my age. Well, the one girl is talking with a really pronounced lisp. I mean, there is nothing wrong with a lisp and I guess adults have them. But, this girls was REALLY pronounced. Her friend, looked normal until you got to her waist. She was wearing a black (faded) cotton knee length skirt with giant flowers on it....OVER jeans. On her feet? Crocs. Not just any Crocs, but ones with those decorations in the little holes. A flower. A heart. And, a teddy bear holding a basket ball. Something was telling me these loud ass girls were not my age. Then, it happened. This...

girl 1: so, wait, when was he born?
girl 2: 88.
girl 3: yeah, and she was born in 90. she just thinks he is too old.
girl 1: that is only like 2 years.
girl 2: i know!
girl 3: so, when were you born? 88?
girl 2: (laughing) NO! 90.
girl 1: oh, i thought you were older then that.
girl 3: me too.
girl 2: (laughing harder) NO!
girl 3: so when was matt born?
girl 2: 81...oh my gosh...i mean 91! oh my gosh!
(laughing uncontrollably)
girl 1: 81! he would be like 35!
girl 3: yeah, he'd have like gray hair!
girl 2: oh my gosh I can't believe I said 81. no! that would be old. he was born in 91.

the girls continue to laugh very uncontrollably and blurt out things like "81!" or "oh my gosh!"

END SCENE

I laughed to myself (very visibly while shaking my head) and looked up to find the girl directly across from me doing the same. She then mouthed "I feel old." I didn't feel old. What I did feel was a strong urge to stand up and say, "Excuse me. First, if Matt was born in 1981 he would be 28. Not 35. And, 28 is NOT OLD!"

I didn't. I just held in the mouth vomit and got off at the next stop. Which was not an attempt to be dramatic, but because it was my stop. It would have been slightly awesome if I threw my scarf around my neck and said, "I've had enough of this," as I exited the train and waited for the next one.

So, moral of the story is: I may be getting better at determining age then I was in the past. It has nothing to do with getting "old." And, these children need to get themselves to a math class. Stat. 2010-1981 does not 35 make!


P.S. In a slightly related story. I took the bus home from the train because it was raining. It was rather crowded so I had to sit next to someone. I would have done anything for a sign like this:

mission accomplished

So, remember this post about that guy who sent me a facebook message saying he didn't want to see me anymore (the day I was laid off of work)? If so, you probably remember this post about when I drunk text said dude and it resulted in a conversation that resulted in drinks. Well, drinks were had.


I went into this drinking summit with very defined boundaries. Friends. Even though my gut instinct told me that I already had too many friends and did not need to add this dude to the roster. Damn gut. Right?

Anyway, we met up for drinks at my favorite bar in the city. I wanted the home field advantage. This particular bar is small, but not too small. It is in Wrigleyville, but is not like a Wrigley bar. And, it has board games. Love. It.

I arrived five minutes later per the usual. He had already ordered me a drink. We had to stand for a while because it was packed, but I poached a table and we sat down mid drink two. We had a good time. Conversation was easy. We played Master Mind and I was a total fucking mind reading rockstar. He sucked, which gave me more pleasure than it should have. After that, we played Guess Who? and somehow I lost a round...not because he guessed first but because I messed up somewhere along the way. Not even sure how that happens. I think the game is suitable for like two year olds.

So, the good stuff? There wasn't really until the next day. We left the bar and got some pizza after having way too much to drink for having not had dinner. He had paid for all of our drinks despite my protests, but I paid for the pizza just to be clear...this wasn't a date. After pizza he got on the El and I walked home. Mission Friendship accomplished.

Well, it was about as accomplished as the time another (not so friend of mine) declared his "mission" accomplished.

The next day I get this text:

"I feel really bad about this because I like you and I wanted to give this a second try. I just don't feel like the chemistry is right with us. I wish it was...because you're such a great girl."

I don't even know how to fully verbalize what I thought at this point. Now, I never responded to his facebook I don't think we should see each other anymore message. There was nothing to say. This, however, pissed me the fuck off. This was my reply:

"Seriously? I am sort of blown away that you thought this was a second try sort of thing. We went for drinks because you asked if we could and I assumed it was as friends. Had I thought you were hoping it would be more than that I would not have gone. A second chance was never an option even if you thought there was chemistry."

Apparently you can.

left overs

Sweet gsus it has been forever since I last wrote a real post. And I guess I have proved myself quite the liar with the whole "for real, tomorrow...I'll write tomorrow," crap I did a few days ago. In my defense, when it was a today...it clearly was not tomorrow anymore...it was today. So, I had to wait until tomorrow came. Right?
Anyway, Thanksgiving and Cuddle Gate 2009. So, I took the train from Chicago to New Jersey because I am a touch crazy about flying. Another story all together. I was pretty jazzed about the trip though. I had a couple really good books to read, some movies, and lots of sleeping to do. I bought dinner to eat on the train because we pulled out of Union Station at 6 something in the evening. Real fast, train travel is the way to go if you are a late person. I mean, not that I am or anything, just saying. I mean, I am assuming that you can show up at the train station with a little less than 30 minutes before you train leaves and still have plenty of time to check your bags and board and stuff. Just a guess.

So, I board the train and see that I am assigned an aisle seat. Not. Happy. (Jan.) I get ready to put my stuff down and this youngish guy says, "Are you in seat 27?" Why yes, yes I am. He responds, "I'm 28. Looks like it is you and me babe." Ugh. With his use of the word "babe" to me...a total stranger...I knew what I was about to do next was totally going to work. "Oh, I am totally jealous of your window seat." (Bat eyelashes, pout lip, girl stuff, girl stuff) "Take it. It's dark out anyway. I'm not going to see shit anyway." Yes, it worked. And, he is apparently an idiot. I don't want to see anything outside. I wanted to lean against the window while I slept. What I didn't know was that this whole plan would fail. Majorly. With no window...he had very few options for where he would rest his head when he slept. And, if we get technical, he chose two options...my right boob and my left. We will get to that in a second.

We have barely gotten out of Chicago and he proceeds to tell me that he is 36. Divorced four months ago. Don't worry, it was his second marriage. He has three kids. Two boys and a girl. The girl is 18 months old. Both of his ex-wives are strippers. He is done with strippers. He has been on a train since yesterday. Oh, surprise...he is traveling to the SAME DESTINATION AS ME! 24 hours together he proclaims. "We have a lot of time to get to know each other." I think, "I can't fall asleep soon enough. Does anyone have any horse tranquilizers? I would rather not get to know him further. They can be for me or for him." He continues to say that he is traveling from Texas. He hasn't been outside of Texas in 15 years. He is moving to Atlantic City to live with his dad. Winner. He can't wait to live in Atlantic City because there is "so much to do there." Oh, he is super drunk too. Sort of like frat boy drunk, but not frat boy because he didn't go to college. He lists everything he has had to drink in the last 24 hours. I wonder why he is not dead. He tells me he could never live in Chicago because there is "nothing to do here. It is the middle of no where." He again says he is very jazzed to live in Atlantic City where there is "so much to do: the beach, casinos, strip clubs, bars. They have everything." I am officially over him at this point. No you don't dis on my city! I tell him that there is surprisingly a lot to do in Chicago because it is...I don't know...just the third largest city in the country. (fact) He shrugs his shoulders and says we can talk some more, but for now he is going to go get a drink.

He comes back about two hours later...just when I am trying to go to sleep. He mumbles about being drunk and making out with some girl a few cars up. Confusing the hell out of me. Whatever. He says that she will probably "totally sleep with [him]." He asks me if he should go back and "do her." I say he definitely should because I want him gone. He leaves again.

He comes back about 45 minutes later. I have my eyes closed at this point. He ignores this and puts his arm on my legs and leans in and tells me has my back. He "won't let anything happen to me." I, stupidly, entertain this conversation and ask if he is talking about on the train because I doubt he will have to "get my back." He tells me he loves me and that even though we don't really know each other well he thinks I am a "really awesome chick." I ask if he even remembers my name because I know the answer. Surprise! He doesn't. He begs me to tell him and I say, "Emily," and roll over. He goes on and on about how Emily is "such a sexy name," which I don't even understand. How is it sexy? Like, would it wear hot lingerie if it could? Apparently it would because he says it is "mad sexy." He tries to cuddle in to me and tells me that he didn't sleep with that girl. He tells me she is a "freak." Funny, coming from him. He asks if he should bring her back to our seat. I am over this. He then says she would get really jealous if she came back here and saw us together. This is odd because we are most definitely not together. I tell him to finish his drink because I do not want the red wine in his plastic cup to spill on me when he passes out. I roll to the side and go to sleep.

I wake up several hours later and wish I could show you in person what I saw. I looked down to find his arm around my waist. And, his head resting on...MY BREASTS! We were entering a station and the train was going slowly and bumping around. I watched as his head bounced on my tits. Awesome, right? Funny thing is, I was faced with a decision and ultimately felt that leaving him there was my best bet. I didn't want to wake him up and start the talking machine. I went back to sleep.

old chapters

I've written before about privacy and how it has evolved in our lifetime. I don't know my neighbors' names. I never even met them. I mean, clearly if I had met them I would have an answer to what was up with all the vomiting that happens next door. But, alas, I've never met nor do I know anything about them. Not one thing. Well, besides all the vomiting. What I do know are the stories of people I've never met before. I knew when Georgina found out she was pregnant with a girl. I knew when David decided to return to life as a manwhore. I knew when Lilu's B peed on the cat. I knew when Lexa was called a glorified secretary. And, I know a lot more...about a lot of other people....people I've never met before. All compliments of our friend the interweb.

Problem is, I also know a lot about people I have met. I know stuff I never wanted to know. And, it was a couple of weeks ago that the book of faces let me down again by allowing me to find out information I never needed to know.


I'm not quite sure why it bothered me so much. But, as soon as I saw it I immediately shut the laptop. Apparently shutting the laptop would make it go away. I looked around as if to find out if anyone else saw what I saw. Why book of faces? Why? Why did you allow this to pop up on my news feed?

I had never been in a relationship like the one I was in with him. I hated and loved him with more intensity then anyone I had ever met before. I believe the feeling was mutual. We were too young and too intense. We fought. We saw each other way too often. We probably made each other miserable. And, we couldn't get enough of each other. I remember one night we were in a bar and his friend turned to me and said, "He really does love you. I don't know what he would do without you. He seriously loves you more then you know." The funny thing was that we were celebrating my new job. My new job in another city. The new job I looked for, in another city, to get away from him. He was toxic for me.

It was the intensity that I loved though. It was the intensity that caused this seemingly short lived romance to live way beyond its shelf life.

He use to say we were going to be together forever. He would talk about our children and the kind of mother I would be to them. He told me he loved me and never wanted to be without me. He said he was more in love with me each morning when he woke up next to me...on account of my messy hair and snuggly nature. He drank more then any person I knew. He lied when I confronted him about cheating on me. He never introduced me to his mother. He turned away from me when I cried. And, he left when he promised he would be in the waiting room when I got out.

He cemented my fears that people would turn away from me. He made my suspicions reality. He made me feel more unlovable than I thought possible.

It was years ago. And, I wasn't perfect. I didn't deserve to be treated as I was, but I didn't treat myself well either. I kept returning. I went back for more. I forgave and pretended to forget. I looked the other way and only discussed my concerns for him in anger. He was young. He was hurting his body in ways I didn't even allow myself to acknowledge. His choices were clouded by abuse that he put his body through. It wasn't a free pass. He should not receive a pardon for it, but I should have rested my case and given in. I should have stopped looking for love from someone who couldn't even treat themselves well.

The announcement of his marriage made me sad. Sad that I allowed myself to be hurt so badly by someone. Sad that he didn't want to treat me better. Sad that I believed the untruths I told myself in response to his behavior. Sad that I couldn't "win" by appearing to come out on top.

The sadness faded though. I reminded myself we were young. He hurt me, but I don't believe it was intentional. We didn't know how to treat each other. And, I probably hurt him as well. He wasn't a terrible person. He was funny. He was loyal. And, he could be incredibly loving when he wanted to be. It wasn't me. We just didn't work. And, we were kids. We needed to grow up. Move away. Make more mistakes. And learn to love ourselves.

So, I sent him a message. I told him that he looked really happy and I congratulated him. He didn't respond and I think I am okay with that. In the past I would have been crushed by his lack of response. I had and still have this strong desire to be on good terms with him. He once occupied space in my heart and a piece of him will always remain a tenant. But, relationships don't get their loose ends tied up nicely. The frayed ends linger until you can accept them and understand why the end is much harder to define then the beginning. An email would not have given me closure because what I realized was that I found it long ago. He will always hold a place in my life story, but I am chapters beyond what we were. I got closure long ago. I was just reminded that it comes in your heart and not an email or a moment in time.

The other plus about having closure is that today I can totally laugh when I retell the story about how he peed in my bed. And how I told the dry cleaner that the dog peed on my down comforter because I didn't quite know how to say, "my boyfriend peed on this" and look her in the eye. Let's hope he has learned to keep his drinking bladder under control or that he and his new wife registered for a plastic mattress protector. Bitchy much? Yes, yes I am.

i don't like it...

So, I feel like we are in need of some nonsense around here. Those last posts seemed really heavy. I leave you with this:

I wrote a post (#2: Jump Right in...) a while back about the guy who asked me to be his girlfriend on the second date. He was not the best catch I even caught. No relationship should begin with you wondering if your new partner roofied you or not. Sadly, this one did.

What I failed to discuss in that post about him was how things actually ended. Amazing. It's about the only word that I have for it.

We went downtown to see the fireworks for the 4th of July. More accurately, we went to the lake. I grew up by the ocean and always watched the fire works from the beach. It seems ludicrous to watch them anywhere but by the water. Anyway, we watched the fire works and drank Captain and Diet Dr. Pepper out of Nalgene bottles. (side note: I do not like Diet Dr. Pepper. Despite what the commercials will tell you, it tastes nothing like regular Dr. Pepper or any dessert I've ever tried. I did not choose to pollute Captain with Diet Dr. Pepper. The guy for whom I was about to end things with did. He said, "I know what my Baby likes." Never could a statement be less true...I was not his Baby nor did he know what I liked.) So, yes, fireworks and alcohol in Nalgene bottles. I ended up drinking a lot. A lot. He tried to talk about meeting my family. I tried to drink as much as I could.

We went back to his place after the fireworks. The fireworks were over...in more way than one. He ended up passing out and I was left laying next to him. I am not sure whether it was all the Captain Morgan or the artificial sweetener, but I was in a mood. I immediately began crying. Yep, laying in bed next to passed out dude...crying. I managed to get up, grab my phone, and make my way onto the balcony. I promptly called my dear friend and said, "Molli, I don't like it." She tried to ask clarifying questions, but apparently all I could do was repeat, "I don't like it." Awesome. I there I sat in a tank top and panties on the balcony of some dude's apartment crying on the phone. Because she is an awesome friend she said, "Get up now. Grab your stuff and cab over here. I am at a party. You need to get out of there." I explained that I had no money and because she is amazing she said, "I will pay the cab driver when you get here. You just need to get out of there." Brilliant idea. Seriously, it was some amazing advice.

I didn't want to be totally rude. After all, I was up and leaving him in the middle of the night. Leaving a note was the least I could do. One problem. The boy had no paper in his apartment. Literally, no paper anywhere. I looked. Really hard. I just couldn't not leave a note though, so I did what any reasonable person would do. I tore off a piece of the Dr. Pepper fridge pack and wrote, "I'm sorry. I just can't do it. I had to leave."

That's right boys and girls. I ended things with a note on a torn off piece of a Dr. Pepper fridge pack.

(If you are totally horrified, it might be good to note that I did end up talking to him later and properly ended things. Those details are just not as interesting. Hopefully I've renewed some faith you had in me.)

#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.

Sincerely,
emily


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 that...it 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 do...in 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...money. 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 TVs...in 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.

#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 had...it 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 movie...one 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.

watch your back...

straight from the archives...

So, I laugh at my own jokes. Yep. I make myself laugh. Perhaps it's a good thing...they say you will live longer or something if you laugh a certain number of times a day. Since I can make myself laugh I guess my odds of reaching my laugh quota for the day are greater. Anyway, I also laugh at emails I write some times. I recognize that this makes me a dork. Or a freak. Or a freaky dork...whatever you want to call me. I had to pull this email out from the archives because I enjoy this one more than most other emails I've ever written. It still makes me laugh out loud...which I get brings us back to the freaky dork statement.

(a little background, this email was sent from me to my sister-in-law Stacey. i wrote the email during my week long TV ban...which didn't last one week. in my defense i had a root canal and was hopped up on drugs and was so stupid that i couldn't read anymore so i had no choice but to watch TV....anyway, enjoy!)

From: Emily [mailto:]
Sent: Sunday, January 07, 2007 1:05 PM
To: Stacey
Subject: Re: Happy 2007!

Just in case you were wondering...you aren't reading the time wrong. I am at work. yes, work! 2:24am and i am at work. you see i blame it on my TV ban. it all started when....

I got up this morning and when i walked downstairs the tv was calling my name, but no...i had to say, "sorry friend but you and i just aren't good for one another. you make me fat and frankly, all i can do is talk about you. my friends are going crazy. it is always tv this and tv that. i promise the break will be good for our relationship." i then proceeded to the kitchen where i made some eggs. i didn't dare sit in the living room to eat them though. too much temptation. so, i read my book which is appropriately named "Welcome to Temptation." it is very good by the way.

after reading some more i spent the entire day lounging around tv free contemplating what my week would look like without my trusty friend el television. i was in my "office" (cough cough my bed cough cough) where i drifted in and out of sleep. at around 5ish i got a call from rebecca asking me what i was doing. i appropriately responded, "i am about to get in the shower to get dressed for the day. what are you doing?" she had just gotten out of the shower. after much conversation we decided that sushi would be very good, so she came home and we got ready to go to...drum roll please...winner of worst service in nashville in a Nashville Scene reader's poll (not really) RuSan's. i did not have the American Re-Rising. I know it is as if you don't know me anymore. First no TV now new things at restaurants...watch out. I was thinking of taking up running this week. okay i know i have to stop with all the changes. you might pass out reading this. and that would be awkward at your new job...stacey passed out in the study with the candlestick. hehehe.

so, after dinner we came home and...nothing. what do you do when you can't watch TV? well, i figured it out. you read. (and you call your not ex-boyfriend...the not is not about the ex but about the boyfriend part...but, good news...he doesn't know how to answer the phone). so, i am almost through with this "Welcome to Temptation." i am fearing that it is close to a romance novel...the detailed sex scenes every ten pages have given it away. but, oddly enough...i am enjoying it. aaahhh am i cheating on TV with a romance novel? don't tell anyone.

So, anyway at 1am I am still up not watching TV but reading "Welcome to Temptation." The phone rings, but it is not the on-call phone [which by the way has been loving to ring all day long] it is my phone and the screen says......HUNTER! now, lets take a little diversion from the story. Think back to a time when you would have made calls at 1:00am or someone may have called you at 1:00am. what did those calls sound like? by now, i am assuming that you are thinking "this was a booty call." what else do you make a phone call to an ex for at 1:00am???? well, this is my conversation.

emily: hello?

hunter: hey.

emily: what's going on?

hunter: nothing, i am at the red door with a buddy of mine. he is walking around trying to pick up girls.

emily: oh, yeah it sounds loud where you are. are you having fun?

hunter: yeah. i saw you called. my phone is a piece of shit. it keeps dying. every time i look to see if i have a missed call it is dead.

emily: that sucks. you should get a new phone.

hunter: yeah, but i don't want to spend like $250 to buy one.

{interjection....$250! has this boy never tried to price phones. i have known him for almost two years and he has had the same phone the whole time. by now, his contract has to be up and i am sure that he can get a phone for less than $250. in fact, i would be willing to bet money he could get one for free. i didn't feel like going into this, so the conversation continued as such....}

emily: maybe you should have asked santa for a phone instead of a nintendo.

hunter: yeah, well, i liked my present.

emily: [laughing] i am loving how you inserted present for nintendo at the bar.

hunter: would you rather i say i can't wait to play zelda princess warrior on my new nintendo wii?

emily: [laughing harder] yes, i love it.

hunter: well, i'm glad. so, why did you call me?

emily: i was just calling to see if you wanted to hang out.

hunter: oh, sorry. but, it sounds like you are having a raging good time on a saturday night.

emily: how do you know i am not.

hunter: it is quiet in the background.

emily: i am at a quiet party. you are truly missing out.

hunter: i bet i am

emily: do you have to work tomorrow?

hunter: i work ever day.

emily: well, maybe we will see each other some time.

hunter: yeah. hey, my buddy just came back i'm gonna let you go. have a good night emily.

emily: you too....

i then proceeded to tell him about the DUI check points in south nashville and wished him well.

my real question is...why is hunter fucked up? he is the hardest to read person i have ever met. now, i know that the explanation is just that he was drunk and he was alone for a second at the bar and he was like...let's call someone. but, he NEVER wants to just call someone and if he does it is NEVER me. i don't know. i was just really weirded out.

i am sure that at this point you are wondering...what does this have to do with emily being at work? well, after my phone call with hunter i proceeded to continue with my book. it is very good, again. then i get a phone call. it is the overnight at the shelter. she was calling to do an approval over the phone. just a little background on shelter policy. two people must make the decision to approve or deny a person for shelter. there is only one person on the overnight. plus, if someone comes in for an intake in the middle of the night we have to call in a relief staff person because two people have to be in the building when an intake is going on.

when we approve the woman i say that if she decides to come in to call me and i will call the on-call relief staff person to come in. about ten minutes later, the overnight called back saying that the woman wanted to come in and was given directions to the drop off point. i went downstairs to get the phone number of the on-call staff person and i just couldn't do it. the staff person's name is trisha. she lives in clarksville. with her husband and three children. it takes her 45 minutes to get to work. an intake lasts about 1hr. she is paid $9. she also gets paid $10 a shift for being on call, but she does not receive it if she has to come in. so, essentially, she would drive a total of an hour and a half at 1:45a in the morning just to make $1 less. i just couldn't do it....especially since i was so awake and ten minutes away from the shelter. so, it brings us to me working at 2:24am. (in reality it is the next day right now and i am finishing this email, because the intake was over before i could finish the email, but for argument sake we will pretend i am still at work.)

i do blame this on no TV watching. because, i feel that i would have passed out in front of the TV before receiving the call about the intake. and, if i was asleep i think i would have thought twice about going in. but, if you look at it another way you could blame this on hunter. but, that is ridiculous...we all know that this is the TV bans fault.

i am going to go now.

Really?

So, there are some things that happen in life that make you pause...look around...and wonder when someone will point to the camera in the office plant or when Allen Funt will appear to reveal that you are on Candid Camera. Seriously, some days I wait and just hope that people are drawing this one out for a while in the vain of comedic timing. People, the dramatic pause should not last hours or days. But, I will laugh when you finally reveal the camera and I will shake my finger exclaiming, "you really got me this time!"

Basically, I think it's important to point out those moments in life when you would rather be on some weird voyeuristic prime time television show with a laugh track then acknowledge that this is your life. In my case, there usually is no laugh track with the exception of the one that comes from friends hours after a stupid moment or experience...when I retell the ridiculousness of it all. Despite my love for oral storytelling, I am going to attempt to retell those moments here. Perhaps they will be told soon after they occur or I may just pull some of the ridiculous from the archives for for the sake of funny.


Hey Emily,
I'm sorry to say this, but I don't think we should continue seeing each other. I know we've only been on two dates, but I feel you deserve an explanation since things seemed to be going so well.

I do like you and I did have fun on both of our dates, I absolutely wasn't lying. However, I've been thinking about the big picture and the fact is I'm just not AT ALL in a place right now where I could start seriously dating you - which is where I saw things heading. I have this fucked up relationship with one of my best friends. I've had feelings for her for a long time.

I just really didn't think it was fair to you to walk you into that potential land mine waiting to explode. Ya know?

Again, really sorry! Believe me, you did nothing wrong and I hope you can find somebody that's good for you right now!

Sincerely,
Ben

I think the "kids" are sayin' something dumb like FML in response to something like this. I don't really subscribe to all that nonsense that the "kids" are doing. I don't enjoy abbreviations, nor am I a fan of the smiley face emoticon shit. Seriously, if I want to smile at you in an email I am much more likely to say (smiley) than actually type :) I just don't like it. To be fair, I will throw it out there that I may have used the whole :) crap in an email or text before. In my defense, it is usually used with people who don't know about my strong feelings against emoticons...my close friends know I don't like them and are use to my mockery when I type (smiley) in protest.

Anyway, that was a tangent. However, this whole things (see: blog) is a tangent and we play by my rules so I will get off topic all I want...how do you like that? Seriously though...FML or whatever. Really? A facebook message? Some background information: two dates. Get over yourself. With that said, we did have plans for later in the night. Yep, the night the email was sent. And, the plans were initiated by Ben. Oh, and don't worry...his name was not changed to protect his identity. Douchebag can stumble across this blog and find out what I really think. Tell us all how your love for your best friend is workin' out for you. Do you think you are in a 90's teen movie? Cause, I got news for you, you aren't. I'll save you the Blockbuster rental fee...this won't end up with you two deciding you need to go to the same college and make babies and live happily ever after. Nope, it will probably end with you being pretty pathetic and lusting after said best friend who was and will never be interested. Because I've got another news flash for you...if she liked you...you'd be together. Just sayin'. Anyway, the funny part about this situation (aside from the fact that we are not in high school and Facebook is not the appropriate platform for such conversation) is that it was received approximately twenty minutes after I found out I was laid off. Yep, I don't have a job. So, soak it up (I'm talking to you "kids")...this is about the only time you will see me use a stupid chat abbreviation...


FML