I'M IN LOVE, I'M IN LOVE AND I DON'T CARE WHO KNOWS IT!
Okay, maybe just a little? Or not at all? Should I text him? Do you think he likes me back? Whatever I'm over it.
It's 9:10 pm in the West Village and I'm walking briskly to make my date that started at 9:00 pm. I guess showing up a little late isn't the end of the world, gives him a taste of what life with me would be like. Enter, Diablo Royale. There he is, more adorable than I remember and way cuter than I could have hoped. Cue the polite one-armed hugs and air kisses. We fight our way to the bar and he orders me a Diablo Ricky, which is a beer and margarita mix and if you know me, you know I don't "do" beer. But it's Friday night and I haven't eaten dinner so maybe tequila on the rocks is a little too aggressive for a first date.
The bar is packed and we're standing under a loud speaker as I pretend I can hear the story about his younger brother while I actually wonder if I could picture myself in a relationship with this guy. That's normal, right? He's adorable and I mean that in the best way possible. He's a middle child. ivy league grad, college football star, financial analyst and he doesn't even have a Mark Wahlberg a la "Ted" Boston accent, CHA-CHING. We move next door to Windsor and fight more hoards of twenty something villagers on the prowl for someone to do tonight and make our way to the bar. Conversation flows, mostly from my mouth, as we exchange more personal stories. And then it happened. I slipped up. I actually used the f-word on a first date. IT'S LIKE I WAS RAISED BY ANIMALS OR SOMETHING (Just kidding Mom, I love you).
I heard it as soon as it happened and immediately regretted it but I'm not known for admitting my mistakes or apologizing so I continued with my story about my snowboarding trip and crossed my fingers that it wouldn't phase him. It must not have because about twenty minutes later as we're on our third drink, he grabbed my hand and it felt WEIRD and it was a really good weird. Maybe it's just been a while since I had been on an agreeably successful first date or since I had felt a connection with someone who wasn't just pretending to be interested in me (or maybe he was pretending but he did a very good job at hiding it).
Anyways, we decided to call it a night and he hailed me a cab as I wondered if I'd hear from him soon and hoped that I would. I crawled into the back seat while greeting the cabie with my signature "Hey cutie!" followed by my girlfriend's address. I gushed to her about how he was a little shy but a total gentleman and how he's not my usual guy but "he could be good for me" as she filled my glass with sauvignon blanc and pulled a bottle of fireball from the freezer, we were celebrating after all.
God damn that cinnamon whiskey. Next thing I know, her and I are back at the apartment of the guy I used to hook up with. Apparently his radar went off, you know that thing that guys have where they can sense that you might actually be moving on with your life? I finally snap out of it as the sun comes up and everyone's saying their goodbyes and I'm reaching for my too-high high heels. I'm kissing my girlfriend farewell and bear-hugging guy friends as he makes eye contact with me and asks me to stay. GOD DAMN THAT CINNAMON WHISKEY.
The next day was spent in bed nursing a hangover and kicking myself for falling into old habits when I had just had a seemingly normal dating experience. Leave it to me to ruin something before it had even started. Fortunately for me, he wasn't aware of the bad decisions I made later in the night and actually texted me this week. That means he's like, in love with me, right? Maybe not since he followed up his weekend plans inquiry by throwing in that he's not feeling well and is going to take it easy. So now I'm left wondering if this is part of the game. All the race is in the chase, sort of thing. Little does he know that I always win and I majored in mind games in college.
TO BE CONTINUED...
You know those insatiable people who can never just be happy with what they have? They're always wanting more and finding a way to get it, no matter the cost... I think I'm one of those people.
I'm not really sure when I became this way or when I realized it but it's been going on for a while and it's only getting worse.
Maybe it's an innate thing being as how I can remember even in grade school, I was always insistent on the being the best. From my stone-washed overalls to my pepperoni pizza lunchables to my accelerated reading level. I forced my parents to tote me around between soccer practice, unicycle club, choir rehearsal and the mall. By middle school when I wanted something, instead of asking my parents, I found a way to afford it myself. At 14 years old I decided I wanted to go to Paris, ordered lollipops off the internet, marked them up, forced classmates to buy them at lunch and bought myself a trip to Europe.
Now as a young adult I find myself living the same independent and hectic lifestyle; working my 9-5 during the week, styling on the weekends, freelance writing, trying to manage a social life, and... dating. I feel like I always want everything and there's never enough time for anything. Whoever decided there should only be 24 hours in a day was seriously delusional.
If I said that I was never satisfied, I'd be lying because I love my life and what I'm making of it. But I'm always looking for ways to better myself, whether it's through new opportunities, expanding my work, becoming more efficient at my job, making new connections, building relationships, finally conquering a pinterest recipe or growing as a person.
But it's frightening knowing that I'll always want and be waiting for the next best thing especially as it applies to my personal life. And it's unnerving to think that in this enormous city, I still haven't come close to finding a man that fits my criteria and who feels the same way about me. Because let's be honest, those are very different things.
I've been hearing a lot lately about how girls need to raise their standards. How we should stop expecting guys to fuck up, acting like it's acceptable for them to be assholes and making excuses for them when they don't put in the effort. And for the most part, I can agree with all of this. But it's easier to preach than it is to practice. Because when that "Miss you" text message comes through at 2 am, it's easier to rationalize how he's been busy with work than admit he's just using you. And it's easy to tell yourself that you're just having fun and you know he's not the one and blah, blah, fucking blah.
The truth is, just like men can distinguish that "girl you can bring home," us ladies can tell "he's the kinda guy you'd wanna marry".
How fucking scary.
Maybe it's just been a while since I've been in love. I know how you weirdos in love get... Like a horse with blinders on.
I'm not going to describe my dream man. That's for me and my spank bank. I will however propose this... I'm going to go on at least one date a week for the next two months and write about every single one. In vivid detail.
I might get closer to finding that dream guy. Or I might just give you guys something really funny to read (Did I mention I tend to get really drunk on dates?)
MAY THE ODDS BE EVER IN MY FAVOR.
I started this blog a few months ago without any real direction. Essentially I think I just like telling people what to do so I figured you guys could ask me questions and I could give my rather unqualified advice. I receive a lot of emails asking me about specific and actually really tough life decisions sometimes and I always try to do my best to offer a little direction from an outsider’s perspective. But is there anything else I should be writing about? WHAT DO YOU GUYS REALLY WANT FROM ME? I mean, I could get all Tucker Max and write about the ridiculous situations I put myself in but who really cares that I told my ex-boyfriend that his girlfriend had a funny haircut or that I started Facebook flirting with my former roommates ex-fling.
'Tis the season to be jolly, overuse mistletoe jokes, drink too much peppermint schnapps and hook up with your former highschool sweetheart. As the holidays approach and we all venture to our various corners of the map to reunite with family, we're also excited to put the HO back in our HOmetowns! There's something about seeing your ex that brings up a few different feelings, either romantic or spiteful. But is it really a good idea to travel down this once very well-traveled road?
You've been in your respective cities, working, playing, studying, whatever. You might still keep in touch with that stud that stole your heart or that girl who let you take her virginity in the back of your mom's suburban. Maybe it's only every few weeks or months that you chat, but both of you know that when everyone gathers at the town bars on the eve of Christmas eve, shit's gonna go down (probably you). You post a Facebook status announcing your arrival back on your old stomping ground and wait for the comments to flood in and your sly ex to send a text message your way.
Why do we let our minds dwell on these people? It didn't work out for a reason. And as you've lived your separate lives, you've both grown up a lot and you've also grown apart. But that doesn't stop anyone from a not-so-secret night of deja vu in your mom's suburban. Here's my take on the two reasons we have holiday hook-ups:
You still have feelings for this person. You might deny they exist because he or she once denied you but that doesn't mean they still aren't there. They were probably your first love and let's face it, your first one is the toughest to get over because as high schoolers we're all convinced that our lives must directly mirror the plot of The Notebook. You'd think by our twenties we'd realize our lives are more like a bootleg version of the American Pie sequel. But alas, there's something about seeing this person that makes your heart race and your voice rise on octave. And that's why you so badly want this holiday hook-up, you're delusional in hoping that this reunion is going to turn into some sort of permanent union between you two. That maybe your ex will finally realize what a catch you are and kick themselves for tossing you back. I've said it once and I'll say it again, getting back together with your ex is like getting food poisoning and then eating the leftovers a few days later. Save yourself the trouble and aim for that younger guy that went to college on a football scholarship and is making eyes at you from the corner. If you really can't resist the ex-temptation, hop into the sack with a "toot it and boot it" mentality. Don't expect a "Merry Christmas babe" text message in a few days and don't you dare send one.
On the flip side, you might just love to hate your ex. They messed with your heart and your head, cheating, lying, making you feel like a crazy person, they did it all. So why are you giddy at the prospect of seeing them this Christmas vacation?
Because you want to show them how much better you are than them. You want to rub in their faces how you've blossomed and become such an amazing person without them. You're excited to back-door brag about all of the great guys you've met and become friends with over the past year. Or casually refer to all of the girls you're dating by first name and bra size. You want to show him what an adderall prescription and gym membership has done for your already rockin' bod. And you want to show her that you finally cut your hair and can grow stubble which helps you "pull mad broads". Given the opportunity, would you slip up? Would you try to sneak your way into their bed to show them all the great moves you've learned, prove that you've been practicing lots since the last time you guys did the no-pants-dance? Well, who am I to stop you? Just recognize that it's love-hate sex, do it ONCE and then move on to bigger and better things, like the aforementioned football player.
Whatever your reason is for holiday hook-ups, enjoy them. Give that fat man a reason to leave you plenty of coal this year.