Ok, my lovely readers, in light of the recent hubbub surrounding my ill-fated “list of dating requirements,” I have to get a few things off my chest:

1.  CHILL OUT, people.  Please.  For the love of god.

2.  I firmly believe that things have been blown WAY out of proportion.  It’s funny – when I was writing up those paragraphs about how I only date men with college degrees, I *knew* it was going to elicit a bit of discussion and might potentially offend people, but I had NO IDEA of the magnitude of the backlash that would ensue.  Wow.  Let me repeat that: WOW.

3.  To clarify (again): I am absolutely, positively, in NO WAY whatsoever implying that a person without a college degree is any less capable, intelligent, keen, likely to be successful as a professional or in a relationship, or deserving of respect that someone with a college degree.

Let us all pause for a moment to allow that to sink in.

… … …

Are we all clear on that?  I certainly hope so.  This is a VERY important point, and I have to admit that it’s hard not to be personally offended when one is accused of this kind of sweeping ignorance and – dare I say it – prejudice.  I don’t think I’ve ever implied this, and if I have, I apologize sincerely.  I absolutely do not feel this way and never have. 

4.  Another clarification (again): In reality, my college degree requirement weeds out VERY few potential dates.  To be perfectly honest, I know exactly ONE person in my age range who doesn’t have a college degree.  (This person happens to be my brother, but that’s beside the point.)  The vast majority of my current friends and acquaintances were met through college, grad school, or work, and – here’s a shocker – they all have degrees, and most of them have an advanced degree.  This is the world that I live in.  When screening men through online dating sites, I’d say that less than 10 percent of men who contact me don’t meet my college degree requirement.  Honestly, this is NOT a lot of people.  This college degree thing does not define my screening process.  It DOES happen to be something I feel strongly about, but in practice, it really doesn’t come into play very often at all.

5.  Yet another clarification (again): My feelings on advanced degrees, GPA, and the reputation of one’s institution(s) are simply preferences and are absolutely NOT used to reject men.  Please, let’s all be honest with ourselves here – do you *really* think that I go around asking men for their college GPAs and walking away with my nose in the air when they come up with anything less than a 4.0?  Really???  Who in their right mind would actually do this?  I mean, seriously.  And do you *really* think that I’d reject an all-around great guy just because he doesn’t have an Ivy League diploma?  Geez.  Let’s all take a deep breath and remind ourselves of the difference between reality and fiction.

6.  A quick dating status update: For those of you who haven’t noticed, I am not currently dating.  To clarify, I am *choosing* not to date.  I haven’t actively put myself out on the dating market since July when I went on that awful troll date, which completely turned me off to the entire process.  I admit that I’m completely jaded and am actively taking a much-needed dating hiatus.  In addition, I’m not sure how much I’ve talked about this on the blog, but I recently got a new job (kind of – it’s a long story), and things at work have been crazy.  I come home stressed out and exhausted everyday and really have NO time or desire to bother with dating right now.  Oh, and the little snippets of free time that I manage to carve out for myself are either taken up with grad school applications or the occasional mental break to recharge from a hectic week.  Simply put, dating is not on my radar right now.  At all.  And it’s kind of nice.

As such, I haven’t been meeting any new men lately.  On purpose.  I’m sure I’ll get back on the dating scene eventually, once work settles down, once all my applications have been submitted, and once I become slightly less jaded.  I appreciate all the recent comments to “meet some new men already, for god’s sake,” but it’s just not something I’m looking to do right now.  So let’s all relax a bit.  Deep breaths, my dears.

7.  In light of the fact that I haven’t been meeting anyone new lately, I admit that I’ve been clinging to past guys who are very obviously not good for me.  I know this.  I am aware.  I’m a big girl and know exactly what I’m doing.  I realize when I’m making a mistake.  It’s so obvious!  How could I *not* know, I mean really???  While I firmly believe that I don’t have to justify my actions to anyone other than myself, I hereby present a quick-and-dirty justification for my ongoing contact with various and sundry men of my past:

- Hot Marine: Despite the fact that he’s a complete monster, he is exactly what I’m looking for in every other respect and I fully admit that I’m addicted to him in a completely unhealthy and toxic way and have been since practically the day that I met him.  However, let the record show that there has been absolutely NO contact since I had dinner with him last month when he dropped that ridiculous bomb on me.

- New Year’s Lips: Despite the fact that there is absolutely no possibility of things ever working out with him, I firmly believe that he is a stand-up guy (I know you don’t believe me, but I’m sticking to my guns on this one since I’m the only one of us who has actually met him in person).  For better or for worse, I firmly believe that he didn’t know he had the STD that he gave me and that he truly felt awful about it when he found out what I went through.  He has always treated me with respect, and he’s actually a nice/fun guy to be around.  I know exactly how this comes off, but you’ll just have to trust me on this one (or not).  I’m finding it impossible to adequately explain this in writing without coming off as completely delusional.

- The new male prospect: Despite my ongoing inability to maintain a completely platonic friendship with him, we actually *have* become fairly close friends, and I truly value my friendship with him.  He’s been dating his girlfriend for almost a year and a half now, and I would never jeopardize that… and neither would he.  I haven’t actually seen him since *before* he started dating his GF, which was seriously a long-ass time ago.  We live far away from each other now, and I think it’s perfectly fine to catch up with him over the phone every once in a while.  No harm done.

8.  I absolutely do NOT want to date someone who “treats me like garbage.”  Geez, I really didn’t think I’d ever have to put that in writing, but there it is.  My contact with the aforementioned men of the past is merely a distraction for me during a busy time in my life.  They provide me with entertainment.  The provide me with interesting stories for the blog.  They provide me with funny stories to share with my girlfriends over drinks on a Saturday night.  They provide me with a good laugh after a long, shitty day at work.  I fully admit that I use them to generate a little bit of much-needed distraction in what has recently been a stressful, aggravating, exhausting time in my life.  It’s as simple as that.

9.  And finally, on that note, my life has been unusually busy for the past few months.  I’m sure you’ve all noticed that I haven’t been blogging nearly as much as I used to, for two reasons: (1) My dating/sex life is essentially non-existent right now; and (2) I hardly have any free time in the evenings anymore.  You’ll notice that I’m writing this post at 1:00 in the morning and cutting into my sleep time to do so.  As such, I honestly don’t have very much time to put into the blog right now, and I’ve found it very difficult to respond in detail to the recent mini-swarm of comments and emails — both the thoughtful/insightful comments and the rampant accusations and sweeping, poorly-supported generalizations.  I sincerely apologize for this.  Rest assured that I do read every comment and email and take them to heart.  I also apologize for the fact that apparently some of you have more time available to read and comment on my blog than I have to actually write it.  I wish this wasn’t the case, but it is what it is these days.  Hopefully things will settle down for me soon, and at that point, I’ll have more time to respond more thoroughly and efficiently.

10.  On a related note, I firmly believe that justifying every aspect of my life and my decision-making process and untwisting words that have been misconstrued or misinterpreted are things that I have neither an obligation nor a desire to perform.  I know I’ve gotten crap for this comment before, but I’ll make it again: as a human being, my life and my psyche are much more complex than what filters through onto this blog.  Seriously.  Think about it.  Some of the recent comments about me have been wildly exaggerated and have been based on far too little evidence to be properly supported. 

11.  Finally, I am not a helpless, clueless woman in need of saving.  I’m not perfect, but I feel as if I’m being made out to be a poor little girl who needs coddling and elicits pity, and to be perfectly honest, this bugs the shit out of me.  I take an inordinate amount of pride in being a fiercely independent, self-sufficient, respected professional, and I have my shit together and my life in order.  My emotional relationships could certainly use some improvement, but geez, I’m not an idiot.  Lately I’ve been feeling as if comments are being made about me as if I’m not even in the room, as if I’m a four-year-old who doesn’t understand when her parents are calling her a “b-a-b-y.”  Recall that we’re all adults here and should be treated as such.

That’s all for tonight, folks.  More to come on this, I’m sure.  For now, I need to get some sleep.

Please mind your manners, my dears.  While the purpose of this blog is informal entertainment, please remember that there’s a real human being behind the scenes.  I respect you as human beings entitled to your opinions, and I expect the same in return.

~DD

I had an absolutely fabulous day today shopping, shopping, shopping, and taking the occasional break in a coffee shop sipping hot apple cider and knitting a sweater (yes, I knit sweaters – you already knew I was a dork, right?).  Anyway, while I was taking in the heavenly aroma of mulled spices from my cider, I decided that I wanted to indulge a little and have dinner at one of my favorite tapas restaurants that happened to be right near the coffee shop I was sitting in.  After trying unsuccessfully to wrangle a friend into some last-minute dinner plans, I realized that I also happened to be right near New Year’s Lips’ place.  Hmmmmmmm.  I tossed the idea around in my head for a while and finally decided that I absolutely should NOT ask him to meet me for dinner.  Ten minutes later, I had plans to meet him at 7.  I know, I’m an idiot, but I was on a shopping high and wanted some company.  Begin chastising lectures… now.

Anyway, I show up at the agreed-upon time and place, get a table for two, peruse the menu, and order a glass of wine.  And then I waited.  And then I waited some more.  And I read through the entire menu… twice.  And I checked my cell phone a handful of times.  He was 20 minutes late, and I had resigned myself to the fact that he wasn’t going to show up.  I give him a call and find out that he’s been waiting for me since 7:00… at a resaturant with the same name in another part of the city.  It figures.  Both of us hungry and a little annoyed after waiting for the other person for almost a half hour, we decide to scrap it and call it a night, especially since we were probably 20 minutes apart at that point.

I think the universe is trying to hit me over the head with something… ha, maybe I should listen.

New Year’s Lips’ reaction in his email:  “So, can we agree that given our history, tonight was pretty fucking funny and possibly expected?”

My sentiments exactly.  I give up.  For at least the third time.  : )

Hey, at least I admit it.  I’ve never been shy about my list of dating requirements, and my recent post is no exception.  In fact, it (rather predictably) stirred up quite a debate about the role of education in dating.  Should education have have a role at all in choosing potential dates?  If so, how much weight does it really deserve in the grand scheme of things?  What, if anything, does one’s educational background really tell you about one’s personality, talent, and potential for success in life and in a relationship?  And why the hell am I such a hard-ass when it comes to the educational background of the guys I date?

Well, my dears, I have a smartass answer to all of these questions, of course.  However, before we get started with what I’m sure will be another controversial post, allow me to present the following disclaimer.  Let’s all keep in mind that the opinions and personal preferences I express in this post are simply that – the opinions and personal preferences – of one single woman.  I’m not saying I’m right.  I’m not saying you’re wrong.  I’m simply saying that this what I want, and this is what has worked for me (to varying degrees) in the past.  I’m not perfect.  In fact – and long-time readers know this all too well – I do stupid shit all the time.  I am by no means an expert on this topic.  I’m just presenting my own personal thoughts on the issue, and I welcome yours in return.

Ok, now that that’s out of the way, let’s dive in…

First, a confession.  I’m not sure I’ve ever really gotten into this on the blog prior to last week’s post, but here’s a little peek into the real life of the woman behind this blog.  I’m kind of a smartypants.  Actually, to put it more accurately, I’m really good at playing the “school” game.  I know what to do to get an A in every class I take, and I’ve done just that.  I was my high school valedictorian, and I absolutely worked my sweet little ASS off to maintain a 4.0 GPA throughout four years of college and two years of grad school.  I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to attend two top-notch schools, and I absolutely took advantage of that opportunity to the fullest extent possible.  I place an extremely high value on education.  I respect it, I admire it, and I know what it takes to get to the finish line because I’ve been there myself.  My GPA is my “claim to fame,” as I always say to my real-life acquaintances, and you wouldn’t believe the doors it has opened for me over the years.  It’s my most prized possession, and I’m incredibly proud of it.  It represents so much more than a simple number on a piece of paper ever could – it represents all the nights when I passed up partying for studying, it represents my love of learning and my passion for excellence, and it represents my extremely competitive nature and my desire and ability to crush the competition, squeezing the very life out of them like a helpless bug under the sole of my heavy, pompous, totally elitist Ivy League shoe.  I know exactly how this comes off, and I know what you’re thinking.  Call me what you will, but this is me, for better or for worse, and I’m not ashamed to put it out there. 

Recall that my “dating requirements” regarding education are as follows:

• MUST HAVE at least a bachelor’s degree
• Advanced degree strongly preferred
• College(s) with a good reputation strongly preferred
• High GPA strongly preferred

Note that I’m not asking for anything on this list that I don’t have myself – what’s fair is fair, after all.  Also note that I’m not asking for the impossible; there are plenty of guys who meet these criteria.  In fact, I’m sure many of you reading this post meet these criteria – both men and women alike.  Come out of the woodwork, people!

The motivation behind my college degree requirement and other educational preferences is ridiculously simple and was discussed in the comments on last week’s post: I’m looking for a guy that’s just like me, that I can relate to, and that can relate to me.  I’m looking for someone with similar experiences and similar views, someone who has taken a similar path in life and who puts the same value on education that I do.  Someone who gets all my esoteric references to classic literature and scientific theories and who laughs at my stupid nerdy jokes.  Someone who has an arsenal of nerdy esoteric jokes of their own.  Someone who cringes at the thought misusing “affect” and “effect.”  Someone who can name the main characters in “Atlas Shrugged.”  Someone who can calculate the trajectory of a projectile on the back of a napkin at dinner.  I just want someone whose dorky idiosyncrasies make me smile and who knows exactly what I’m thinking when I give him “the look” because he’s been in my shoes, and I’ve been in his.  Deep down, I think a lot of people want this.  Educational background is simply a tool that I use to try to find my dorky counterpart.

A secondary motivation is personal experience in screening potential dates over many years of dating.  Simply put, I’ve noticed that men without college degrees tend to turn me off immediately for a wide variety of reasons that tend to be similar from guy to guy.  I could go on here, but at the risk of offending way too many people, I’ll leave it at that.  It’s a personal preference.

To be perfectly, bluntly, unabashedly honest, I think I’m “kind of a big deal” when it comes to education.  To put it even more simply, I think I fucking rock.  I’m not a Harvard grad, I don’t have a genius grant, and I’m not in Mensa, but I think I’m pretty fucking awesome when it comes to educational clout and pedigree.  Is it so wrong for me to want a partner on a similar level?  Is it so wrong for me to want to relate to my boyfriend/husband/whatever on that level?  Is it so wrong for me to want an educational equal, someone who’s fought the fight, crushed the competition, came out on top, and who wears the pride of their accomplishments boldly on their forehead for all to see?  Is it so wrong to want someone who understands – and shares – my motivations, values, and ideals, and someone who’s felt my blood, sweat, and tears firsthand? 

Honestly, I really don’t think so.

Plus, it’s completely my prerogative.  To each his own.  To me, a college degree signals a level of familiarity with the path that I’ve taken in my own life, and my other educational preferences are the icing on the cake.  This is what I want, and I’ve worked TOO DAMN HARD to settle for anything less.

Getting back to the questions that I raised at the beginning of this post… here are my snarky and completely personal responses:

1.  Should education have have a role at all in choosing potential dates?  For me, absolutely.  It’s important to me, and it should be important to my date as well.

2.  If so, how much weight does it really deserve in the grand scheme of things?  For me, quite a bit.  There are a bunch of things that I don’t care about (Divorced?  Kids?  No problem.), but education is a deal-breaker for me and therefore deserves quite a bit of weight in the screening process.

3.  What, if anything, does one’s educational background really tell you about one’s personality, talent, and potential for success in life and in a relationship?  Personality – a lot, in terms of compatibility with my personality.  Talent and potential for success in life – probably nothing.  Potential for success in a relationship – almost certainly nothing.  Potential for success in a relationship with me – a lot, for all the reasons I discuss above.

4.  And why the hell am I such a hard-ass when it comes to the educational background of the guys I date?  Dude, because I wanna be. 

So there you have it.  Call me what you will, but this is me – crazy DD.  : )

One final note: Thanks to reader/commenter Mr_Right for sharing this article entitled “Marry Him!”  I swear, this woman was reading my mind when writing it.  As a single woman nearing the big 3-0, I’d venture to say that it’s a pretty accurate representation of the dating scene as viewed by a 30-ish single woman.  Go check it out.  I’m not sure that I agree with everything she says (particularly the argument that, as you get older, settling is better than nothing), but I have to admit that a teeny, tiny part of me was like, “well, maybe a degree-less husband WOULD be better than an empty apartment.”  In light of my entire post above, that’s saying a lot.

I went out with some friends on Saturday night for some general drinking and debauchery, and dudes, I seriously had so much fun.  It totally rocked.  I fucking LOVE Halloween!  It’s like, all of a sudden, for one night only, anything and everything is socially acceptable.  You can wear whatever the hell you want and do whatever the hell you want, and the more outrageous it is, the better.  What’s not to love???  I think people’s true character comes out to play on Halloween, and I’m no exception.  This referee getup is totally me, from the semi-androgynous costume (I could never be a French maid or something that girly) to the idea of exerting a little control over my potential dance partners (the ref’s calls are final, after all), to the completely AWESOME whistle that I was blowing at anyone and everyone all night.  Hahaha, it was great!

I thought I would use the whistle to get the attention of cute boys who happened to walk my way (and I did use it for that purpose a few times), but mostly I wound up using it to “call a foul” for objectionable hand placement by skanky bar monkeys.  Listen boys, you can grab my ass in a dark crowded bar, but do NOT grab my boobs or crotch – seriously!  That crosses the line, my dears, especially if you’re a skeezeball whose face I can’t even see because you’re wearing a fucking MASK.  Geez, guys!

Despite the skanky bar monkeys, however, it was a completely awesome night and a much-needed release from a long and crappy work week.  I drank and danced until 4:00 am with some good friends, and I met lots of interesting men including the entire cast of Sesame Street, Fred Flintstone, every superhero you can think of, Santa Claus, and Jesus.  I’m telling you, there’s always a Santa and a Jesus.  Halloween just wouldn’t be complete without them – haha.  I met an especially nice Batman, and one of my friends met a very gentlemanly Winnie the Pooh.  It was… a good time.  : )

The best part was all the compliments on my cute little outfit.  What can I say… what girl doesn’t love to be complimented?  My favorite was from a very young-looking street monkey who said, in the exact tone of voice you would expect: “Mmmm… Foot LOCK-er… somebody STOP me…”  I think I responded with a “Damn right!” or something to that effect.  It was fun.  I hardly ever get these compliments in real life, so I was soaking it all in.

Another thing I noticed is that when you’re in a dark, crowded, hot, sweaty, pulsating mass of horny 20-somethings on Halloween night, you can get away with pretty much anything (except grabbing my crotch, which will get you a sharp whistle blow and a firm push in the other direction).  It’s really liberating to be in this highly unusual state of being, and it feels great to just let it all go, know what I mean?  I always refer to the late-night club scene as “pure id” – you don’t think, just feel.  As Freud himself put it, the id is “a cauldron full of seething excitations,” which I think is especially true on Halloween.  Take it from me, if you didn’t go out partying this weekend, do yourself a favor and go next year.  It’ll be well worth it.  : )

I’m not sure what else to say about Saturday night except that my legs/knees are killing me from all the dancing, my crotch is sore from grinding into too many costumed bachelors, I’m still exhausted two days later, and it was all totally worth it.  I’m also super proud of myself for not doing anything stupid – my friends and I stuck together the whole time and all came home together, as it should be.  Super fun, and no need for antibiotics or the morning-after pill!

Hope you all had a fabulous Halloween!

So with that said, I present to you: DD’s List of Dating Requirements, Version 2.0:

- Education.  I’ve learned through experience that this really needs to be at the top of the list.  I hate to say it, but it’s true.  If you want to take me out, you absolutely must, MUST, M-U-S-T have at least a bachelor’s degree.  From a college that I’ve actually heard of.  And you must have gone away to school – no living at home through four years of college.  Note that an associate’s degree doesn’t count.  Neither do three associate’s degrees.  Neither do ten.  Notice that I said “at least” a bachelor’s degree.  I’ve learned through experience that the chances of us hitting it off increase dramatically if you have an advanced degree.  I have one, and so should you.  And while we’re on the topic of degrees, an Ivy League diploma doesn’t hurt.  Again, I have one, and so should you.  Oh, and a nice fat GPA would be nice.  Think round numbers.  Something with a 4, perhaps?  Again, I have one, and so should you. 

I know what you’re thinking – this all sounds extremely elitist.  Well, you’re right!  I admit it!  I’m a total snob when it comes to education, and rightly so.  In my personal experience, education translates to SO many other aspects of one’s personality, and I’m not going to list them all here.  Suffice it to say that I’ve found – through my own personal experience (I can’t stress that enough) – that I get along much better with highly educated people.  That’s just the way it is.  I admit that I’ve been extremely fortunate to be able to attend some excellent institutions and have had a family to support me while doing it.  Not that I didn’t work my ASS off, because I absolutely did.  And so did my family – my parents worked 7 days a week in jobs they hated just to pay the tuition bills.  Absolutely amazing – I can truly never repay them.  But I realize that not everyone has the opportunities that I’ve had, and that’s perfectly ok.  I’m just not going to date them.  Let the hate mail fly into my inbox!  I’m damn proud of my educational pedigree and am looking for someone at the same level.

- No virgins, and no guys living with their parents.  These two are HUGE sticking points for me, and I’m sure you’ve heard me ramble on about them plenty of times before.  It’s absolutely amazing to me that this even needs to be said – baffling, actually – but DUDE, there are TONS of these guys out there, and I don’t know where the hell they’re coming from!  It’s fucking ridiculous!  And these guys are in their 30s!  HELLO???????  I absolutely REFUSE to deal with a dating novice or with a mama’s boy who won’t grow a pair and take care of himself.  Geez, guys.  Must this really be said at this age????  Sadly, it must.

- No more guys in their 20s.  EVER.  I’m fucking done.  The maturity level is absolutely unacceptable and, frankly, it’s one of the biggest turn-offs I can think of.  Move aside, boys.  I need a MAN.

- No guys more than ten years older than me.  Translation: if you’re over 40, please do yourself a favor and don’t even bother asking.  Seriously.  I am NOT interested in dating my father.  Or my grandfather.  I am not Anna Nicole Smith.  I am not a coal digger.  Got it?  Guys, please take note: hitting on women much younger than you can be really, really creepy.  I’m not saying every woman feels this way, but I do.  I really do.  No thanks.  Please just move along and stop giving me nightmares.

- No smoking, no drugs, no tattoos.  Self-explanatory.  I’m looking for a DORK, remember?  I think smoking is absolutely one of the most disgusting habits out there.  I’ve never smoked anything, and if you want to date me, neither should you.  Drugs?  Bleh.  Just SO not my thing.  I’ve never smoked pot, and again, if you want to date me, neither should you.  And yes, there are plenty of people out there who have never smoked pot.  Hello, I’m one of them.  : )  Ok?  We’re out there.  As for tattoos – this is not a 100% sticking point for me, but it’s a strong preference.  I have too many family members who are covered in tattoos, and it’s turned me off to the whole idea of it.  Ick.  Not for me.  I don’t have any tattoos, and neither should you.  (Are you noticing a patten here?  I want a male version of myself – ha!)

- No out-of-towners.  I’m not going to New Jersey.  Or Long Island.  PERIOD.  New Jersey guys are creepy, and Long Island guys are mama’s boys.  Yay for sweeping (but SO true) generalizations!!!

That covers the must-haves.  Now, a preference:

- My dorky “type.”  It is well known among my circle of single girlfriends that I have a “type.”  I always go for the same dorky guys, and it’s gotten to the point where my friends can instanatly pick these guys out of a crowd, and I immediately melt when I see them on the street.  I’m not saying that this is the only type of guy that I find attractive, but I’ve noticed that I really do gravitate toward them.  So what’s my type?  I’m looking for an obviously dorky-looking guy, tall, lanky, bald (or with a shaved head), and with glasses.  Also, must be a snappy dresser.  (And yes, I just said snappy.)  Even dorkiness isn’t an excuse for dressing poorly, seriously guys.  Invest in a pair of butt-hugging jeans and a nice shirt!  Guys have it so easy, trust me!

Now let’s take a look at things that didn’t make the list:

- Never married.  I gave up on this one a while ago.  Surprisingly, I just stopped caring about it.  Go figure!  I now welcome divorced guys, provided that they didn’t cheat on their wives or anything like that.  This is still new territory for me, so I’m still working out the kinks.  We’ll see if any other rules and regulations pop up here.

- No kids.  Again, at some point I kind of stopped caring about this one and just let it go.  I don’t want to penalize guys for having a kid or two, especially if they’ve stepped up and committed to providing for them despite the fact that things with their mother didn’t work out, for whatever reason.  I guess I’d have to be sure that things with the mother are really over, and since I’ve never actually dated anyone with a kid, I really don’t know how I would handle it.  Regardless, this has been taken off my list.  Dads now welcome.

Hmmmmm… anything else? 

Oh yeah, we actually have to get along and be attracted to each other.  Silly me, I almost forgot about that.  : )  Now, my dears, can you just IMAGINE how small the pool of guys is who fit all my picky requirements?  And can you now imagine how many them would be attracted to me?  And how many of those I would be attracted to?  And then, with how many of them I would actually have some sort of chemistry?  The pool gets narrower and narrower after each cut, and in the end, I think I’m only left with a handful of potentials. 

The view isn’t so great from where I’m standing, that’s for sure!

Soooooo… what am I going to do about it?  Right now – nothing.  Bleh.  Guys can bite me.  : )

Oh, one final note: Let the official record show that I’ve actually managed to find guys who make it all the way down to the final cut.  They’re out there, and I know it because I’ve found them.  The Editor, for example – but look how that one turned out.  Another example – David (minus the bald head and glasses), but we all know how that turned out too.  Yet another one – New Year’s Lips (again, minus the bald head and glasses).  Note that the new male prospect doesn’t quite make it, but he’s close. 

Anyway, the point is that even after I manage to find someone who’s good on paper, and who might actually be interested in me at the same time I’m interested in him, there are absolutely no guarantees.  I admit it – my highly refined List of Dating Requirements doesn’t work!  But I’m not willing to part with my standards, and as I said above, neither should you.  I don’t have all the answers, but I’m being stubborn about this.  It’s important.  I want what I want, damn it. 

And in the absence of a man, the next apartment I move into will allow cats.  Period.  : )

In other news, I went to an extremely dorky knitting festival over the weekend, which was AWESOME.  I saw things like this (and no, that is not me):

and this (again, not me):

Much hot apple cider was consumed, and many squeals of excitement were uttered (by me, as well as by the sheep).  It was a true dork convention of the fiber variety.  So fun!

Hmmm… what else is going on?  I’ve been wearing my new boots, which everyone seems to love except my lovely blog readers (geez, guys!).  They’re super comfy and stylish with a pair of skinny jeans.  I’ve been pretty good with Weight Watchers lately except for some random sugar cravings, during which I eat large quantities of cappuccino-flavored fudge (so yummy).  I thought something had died in one of my kitchen cabinets due to some crazy-ass funk but finally discovered it was just some super-smelly herbal tea my mom had bought for me.  SO relieved that I didn’t have to scrape up a dead rat or something!  Watched the episode of The Office with Jim and Pam’s first kiss tonight – so sweet.  (And no, I haven’t seen the wedding episode yet, so don’t ruin it for me!) 

Oh, and here’s a DD Mad Lib:

I recently decided that all men are either _______ (adj.) or _______ (noun).

If anyone manages to guess both blanks correctly… well… good for you.  : )

The first pair is for everyday/fall weather, and the second pair is waterproof for slushy/snowy days.  I really wanted to get some fabulous high-heeled boots (I almost bought something very close to this), but they were SO ridiculously uncomfortable that I cried a single tear and put them back on the shelf.  I have made the ultimate foot-pain sacrifice for the sake of fashion many times, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it today.  Oh well!  I still like what I came home with.  Drool…..

(1) An old friend from high school who found me on LinkedIn – ha, I guess that site is good for something after all.  I almost shit a brick when his email popped up in my inbox, and I hope to organize a mini-reunion with him and our little high school dork brigade in the near future.  I’m excited to catch up wtih them!  I wonder if they’re all still dorks like me?  Oh, who am I kidding – of course they are.  : )

(2) I got a text, completely out of the blue, from the new male prospect tonight.  (I think the last time we talked was here.)  I was very pleasantly surprised to hear from him, and we wound up catching up over the phone just a little while ago.  How great!  It was so good to chat with him again, and despite all the drama that may have occurred between us a few years ago (sorry, old blog, no links!), I think we’re actually very good as friends and am looking forward to having lunch with him sometime soon.

I wonder who else will be popping back into my life?  Don’t these things always happen in 3s?  : )

Package #1: My official GRE scores.  I already knew my math and verbal scores from the day of the exam, but today I finally got my writing score.  And, my dears, I am quite pleased.  QUITE pleased.  : )  In fact, I was so fucking excited that I did a happy dance around my apartment and immediately called my mom.  Hahaha.  I did much better than I expected and – truth be told – got a 6.0 out of 6.0.  Well shit then.  : )

Package #2: My official transcripts from grad school (the first time around).  This wasn’t as earth-shatteringly exciting as the GRE writing score, but it reminded me that I totally kicked ass in grad school and am really looking forward to going back.  Plus, having the hard copy transcripts in my hands makes the application process all the more real for me and reminds me that I need to stop sulking and get cracking.

Also, now that it’s been a few days, the shock of the bullshit with David is finally fading away, and I think I’m emerging from the haze.  Geez, what a fucking loser!  Why do I waste my time and energy on him?  Whatever, I don’t have time to worry about that anymore, as my applications are waiting for my undivided attention.  I’m really happy and rather impressed with myself that I seem to be shaping up to be a DAMN good candidate, which will hopefully translate into some big fat acceptance packages in the spring.  We’ll see.  : )

In other news, I am still wearing my hair curly and letting it air dry in the mornings, which is proving to be quite the chilly experience now that the weather is cooling down.  I’m waiting for the hair icicles to start forming… perhaps I can fling them at annoying coworkers?

I hate to admit it (because it means that he’s still exerting his unwavering power over me), but the recent news about David is really eating away at me.  I’ve been unable to focus on anything else all weekend, and I’m feeling uncomfortable, upset, and highly meditative.  I’ve been trying to sort out my feelings by devoting a significant portion of my day today to purposeful thinking, actively trying to ascertain exactly what I’m feeling and why I’m feeling it.  It’s a difficult process, particularly because I think I’m still in shock and am still experiencing the aftershocks of Thursday night’s earthquake.  To be perfectly honest, this is hitting me really, really hard.

The photo above was taken yesterday at a very relaxing little spot by the water.  I love when seashells are used as gravel, and I particularly love the contrast of the white shells against my blue patent leather shoes.  I found myself looking down at my feet a lot this weekend, and I liked this photo because it represents my focus inward as I sort out the flurry of emotions that have taken over my life for the past few days.  I also think the photo has an innocent quality to it, and the extreme vulnerability and exposure I’m feeling right now makes me yearn for more innocent, less complicated times in my life. 

One thing that keeps coming back to me is this: Out of all the guys that have faded in and out of my life over the past few years, why have I kept David around so consistently and for so long?  What IS that certain indescribable something about him that I’ve found so hard to resist?  In light of my recent discovery, what redeeming qualities could possibly remain that are making it so difficult for me to let go? 

I find myself mourning the loss of an inhumane monster, and I can’t seem to reconcile that.

The face of a monster leaves his colleagues with a satisfied grin after a long day at the office, slaving away into the night hours, earning that outrageous salary with skill and finesse and pride.  The face of a monster greets me at my door with a smile from ear to ear, a heartfelt embrace, and a cheerful “Hey babe, you look great!”  He buries his face in my neck, breathing, thrusting, writhing, screaming, collapsing.  The face of a monster arrives home after “another late night at the office,” greeting her with a smile from ear to ear, a heartfelt embrace, and a cheerful “Hey babe, you look great!”  He buries his face in her neck, breathing, thrusting, writhing, screaming, collapsing.  The face of a monster sends me a late-night email detailing all the delicious things he wants to do to me next time, and then climbs into bed with her and makes her coffee in the morning.

The face of a monster greets me at a crowded upscale restaurant with his usual smile and embrace.  “It’s so good to see you!” he exclaims, offering me a seat at a reserved corner table, ready with bread and wine and the promise of mouth-watering food and shadowy, flirtatious conversation.  He expertly glides his way though talk of work and school and family and friends, but the monster hesitates when asked about his personal life.  A rare move, a blatant omission.  Curious, I press him for a response.  Again, and again, until the monster’s adroit fingers become weak, and their expert precision in manipulating his facial muscles and the gleam in his eyes becomes amateurish, and the monster’s face begins to slowly emerge from behind its perfectly constructed layers.  Opaque slowly becomes transparent as the layers lifelessly fall away, resting on the table with his almond salad and my creamy parsnip soup.  His glance is focused downward, perhaps lamenting his coveted, discarded disguise on the table, and he offers a hint of a confession: “I’m living with someone.”  And I begin to see the monster’s true countenance for the first time, although for some reason I feel as if I’ve had an unobstructed view all along.  Funny how the eyes only see what they want to see.

And as I sit there, eating my soup, sipping my wine, the layers continue to fall.  I feel as if the air between my face and his thickens to the point at which I feel as if I’m miles away from the man I thought I was sitting across from, yet at the same time, my view of his face, his true face, has never been more clear.  Who is this creature?  Who is this man who I thought I knew, who is now telling me, bit by infuriating little bit, that he has this whole separate life from which I had been completely shut out, and that his encounters with me (and the countless others, for all I know) are completely hidden from the girl he’ll curl up in bed with at the end of the night, the girl whose boyfriend has been fucking around during their entire relationship, the girl who does his laundry and makes him dinner and tells him that she loves him.  The girl who will never know that he took me out to dinner that night. 

The face of the monster is finally revealed in its full infamy, and the man I thought I knew is irrevocably destroyed.  Only a monster is capable of pulling off such a delicate juggling act, such a deliberative, malicious, deceitful operation.  And the true revelation of the monster’s character is not simply the unveiling of the scheme, the peeling back of the layers, the dimming of the gleam in his eyes and the relaxing of his smile… but the utter apathy with which he executes these acts.  “She doesn’t need to know.”  “I like that my relationship with you is separate from her.”  The stone cold look in his eyes when I asked him how it was possible that the fact that he had a serious girlfriend and had moved in with her had not come up in conversation over the course of almost an entire year of late-night visits and countless emails.  The face of a monster offers no apologies, for with all its skill and cleverness and unlimited capacity for manipulation, it fails to recognize its offenses, seeing only success in its constantly evolving ruses and machinations.

The face of a monster is cowardly, weak, and childish.  It is violently protective of its true identity, offering me only a glimpse into its true nature that night – who knows what else lies beneath the many layers yet to fall, clenching their fists, clinging for survival to that perfectly chiseled face and brilliantly glowing eyes.  The face of a monster walks among us, hiding and writhing, festering and fermenting, withering and rotting, while its outward mask shines in the sunlight, greeting his colleagues, his family, his girlfriend, his sluts, with that same warm, midwestern embrace, pulling the sheets so far over our eyes that only softness remains, and we can’t help but succumb to his seemingly innocuous guile.

With all its skill and expert precision, the face of a monster doesn’t need or deserve the protection of its victims, a courtesy more appropriately reserved for decent human beings, those with real feelings, real emotions, real vulnerability, those who show respect and who are deserving of respect in return, those who unabashedly show their true face to the world, proud and honest and genuine.  A monster doesn’t deserve my help, my respect, my courtesy.  In fact, a monster isn’t deserving of very much at all, with the exception of whatever punishment is reserved for such base creatures, and in that respect, I hope he gets exactly what he has coming to him.  May the gods unleash the full fury of their wrath upon this loathsome beast.

I’ve always considered the term “Hot Marine” to be a compliment, one of which this particular monster is no longer — and apparently never was — worthy. 

So David, if you’re out there reading this, please consider yourself exposed for the monster that you truly are.

• He has a girlfriend.
• For the past 10 months.
• And he’s living with her.

There are SO many implications to this news, and I am still in shock trying to process it.  All I can say right now is that this guy is a MUCH bigger jerk than I ever thought he was (much more to his girlfriend than to me), and apparently I really don’t know him AT ALL.  I will write more when I manage to calm down and process this information.

God, I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.

• My life has been overwhelmed with (a) my transition to a new company and all the associated BS that goes along with it, and (b) grad school applications.  In essence, all my free time has been consumed.
• There is absolutely NOTHING going on on the dating front.  I don’t have time for it, and I don’t really care anyway.  The thing with NYL is over (whatever the hell that was), and I’m completely turned off by the idea of seeing Hot Marine, not that he’s contacted me recently anyway.

So that’s that!  More posts to come when I actually have something to report.  Hope you’re all doing well!  : )

I really feel like this grad school thing is the beginning of something amazing.  I’m super excited about it, and the fact that the GRE went so well is an unexpected buy very welcome icing on the cake.  I seriously almost shit a brick when the scores popped up on the screen at the end of the exam.  Picture it: I was in an extremely quiet room with other people taking other exams, and I literally had to put my hand up to my mouth to hold back the screams.  I think I let out a whisper of an “oh my God” before I managed to compose myself… and my heart was absolutely beating out of my chest for the next two hours or so.  I called my mom immediately because I just HAD to tell someone!  This gives me the confidence to apply to the top-tier PhD programs that I’ve been eyeing AND reassures me that my brain is still alive and well after not being used for five years.  Maybe I can handle the oh-so-terrifying qualifying exams after all?  Maybe????  : )

I could go on and on about this, but that’s the gist of it.  I was nervous as hell, but I think the adrenaline kicked in, and I managed to “pull a DD” and ace the damn thing.  I’m sorry if I’m being totally vain about this, but whatever!  I worked hard for those scores and am DAMN proud of myself.  Go me!!!

So now that I’m even more excited about the prospect of a new beginning in grad school (and maybe a warmer, sunnier locale), I had a little boost of confidence to put an end to something that had been bugging the shit out of me: the fucked up situation with New Year’s Lips.  That’s right, my dears, I put my foot down and removed myself from the situation.  Granted, the reason for putting my foot down is that he had been dragging me along like an idiot for the past few weeks, but it is what it is.  He made it so ridiculously abundantly clear that he wasn’t interested, so I closed that chapter of the book once and for all.  I sent him a short and sweet email this morning saying that I’m signing off of this fucked up situation, and regardless of what he thinks of it, sending that email was something *I* needed to do to get some closure and move on.  I needed to allow myself to shut the door and stop agonizing over it, and the little email this morning did the trick.  Done!  So much for attempting to date an ex.  I should have known better.  He was never even interested!  WHAT WAS THE FUCKING POINT???

I feel very in control of my life right now, and I REALLY like this feeling.  It feels absolutely amazing to rid my life of bullshit nonsense and fill it with productive, exciting endeavors.  Wow, who knew?  : )

After much studying and freaking out, I’m going to wake up bright and early tomorrow and take this exam.  To say that I’m a little nervous is an understatement.  To say that I’m a lot nervous is an understatement.  BUT, on the up side, chances are good that it’ll all be over in less than 24 hours.  If I happen to flip out and bomb it, I’ll take it again, but I have a feeling that won’t happen.  Hopefully.  My brain is a vocabulary machine.  I know all my right triangles and algebraic manipulations.  I can even whip out a coherent essay or two.  I’ve done all the studying I wanted to do, and I’ve memorized all the words on my various lists.  I’ve done a bunch of practice questions and taken two full-length, timed exams.  (The tricky part is the time, really.)  I’m good to go.  I’m not studying any more tonight – I’m just going to relax and go to bed early.  I want to go into this thing tomorrow calm and confident.  I can do this.  The shit is IN MY BRAIN.  I know it.

I’m not religious, but God, if you’re out there, send me a little magic fairy dust for this one, ok?  : )

I have no time to be depressed and lonely when I’m busy.

These past two weeks, filled to the absolute brim with studying whenever I’m not working or sleeping, have been amazing.  I feel motivated and confident and in control, and I haven’t been agonizing over stupid man drama every waking moment of the day.  If this is what grad school is going to be like, well, fucking sign me up.  Ironically, although I’ve had absolutely no time for fun, these past two weeks have been the best weeks I’ve had in a long time.

Shocking thing #1: Hot Marine called me tonight.  ON THE PHONE.  Let me explain this so it is absolutely clear: My phone rang.  I looked at the caller ID.  It read: “Hot Marine.”  I picked up the phone.  Hot Marine’s voice was on the other end.  As in, he picked up the phone and called me like a normal human being.  I can count on one hand the number of times this has happened in the 2.5 years that I’ve known him.  To top it off, we actually had a somewhat-normal conversation, as in an exchange of sentences and witty statements between two human beings.  Whoa.  Unbelievable.

Shocking thing #2: Hot Marine’s words: “I hate every single day of my life.”  This humanizes him beyond belief.  Apparently he’s being worked to death at his job and can’t seem to find a way out.  Actually, I feel bad for him.  He sounds completely downtrodden and miserable.

Shocking thing #3: Hot Marine’s words: “DD, you’re very special to me.  I would do anything for you.”  It took me a while to come up with any sort of response to this statement… and eventually I just said, “What does that mean??”  To which he had no meaningful response, of course.  We’ve been though this little dance before, but the shocker was the “I’d do anything for you” part.  Never heard that come out of his mouth before.  Again, whoa.  I’ll never understand what goes on in that immensely interesting little brain of his.

And if those 3 items weren’t enough of a shocker for one night, get this: I refused to see him tomorrow night.  Well what do you know… I shocked myself.  : )

Oh, and apparently Hot Marine has “the perfect grad school plan” for me, which he refused to divulge over the phone, insisting that he wanted to “sit down and have a conversation” about it, after which I would “suck his cock.”  Now that isn’t surprising at all.  I guess some things never change.  : )

So what’s the latest installment?  Our emails over the years have gone from great to horrible to raunchy to apathetic and everything in between.  Usually when he wants a piece of ass, he’ll send an email that says something like, “see you tonight?”  Subtle, but short and sweet.  Sometimes he’ll cut straight to the chase and be all, “wanna fuck?” a la my first let’s-start-having-casual-sex email about two years ago.  But today – my dears – today his midwestern charm came out in full force and he busted out this precious little gem: “may I stop by Thursday?”

MAY he stop by Thursday???  What, are we in 5th grade and he’s asking my permission to go to the bathroom?  How fucking hilarious!  I just think it’s so funny that he’s asking so politely if he can come over for casual sex, as if I’m throwing a tea party and he’s RSVPing on a little notecard decorated with flowers and that sophisticated ripped paper edge.  Hahaha, oh Hot Marine, how you entertain me with your polite midwestern requests.  How charmingly sweet and innocent.  How hilarious that such a little 3-letter word like “may” can so effectively disguise the fact that you’ve essentially treated me like shit for oh, I don’t know, the last two and a half years.  Hahaha.

So I guess we’re being polite to each other now.  Fascinating.  Who knew?

I’ve been up to my pretty little ears in high school math and – the absolute killer – vocabulary words, and today I tackled the writing section (which shouldn’t be too bad, actually).  The worst is the vocab.  I seriously want to shoot myself in the head.  Who uses these words, anyway???

In other news… well, there is actually no other news to report!  All has been silent on the dating front, which is simultaneously baffling (I can’t believe NYL never called after our last date!) and completely expected (of course he didn’t call!).  Oh, I guess there is one little detail to share – I officially signed on the dotted line last week to transfer to a new company along with the rest of my group at work.  I think our official first day will be this Wednesday, but we won’t be moving offices for a few more weeks.  I have a lot of HR stuff to look forward to, and I had to take a drug test this weekend!  Good thing bagels are full of carbs and I don’t have any poppy seeds in my system.  : )

So, clearly there’s not much new with me.  What’s new with you?

When my phone rings and I get all excited that you might actually be calling me, and then my caller ID says it’s my dad, I get a little disappointed.  When it’s been over a week since I’ve last heard from you, I start to get a little annoyed.  When I think about the fact that one of you is surgically attached to your email, and the other one thinks a txt can substitute for an actual conversation, and neither one of you is willing to actually pick up the phone like a normal human being, it makes me want to swear off men for good.

Please take this into account the next time you’re trying to get an ex to sleep with you, ok?  Because I refuse to tolerate this bullshit.

End of rant.

Hello, my dears!  I have returned from my mini-vacation to DC, which was totally awesome, by the way.  I snapped this blurry but pretty cool photo of the White House at dusk on September 11 (last Friday), in addition to a bunch of other ridiculous photos of me posing with every poster/painting/book/cardboard cutout of Obama that I encountered.  God, do I love that man.  I referred to him as “my husband” during the entire trip.  Ha!

BUT, despite the awesomeness of my little vacay and my reunion with my beloved college roommate, the shit has totally hit the fan here at Chez DD, in more ways than one.  Observe:

(1) Craziness at work.  Without getting into too much detail, there has been all sorts of corporate bullshit going on for the past several months (following the purchase of my company by a huge conglomerate), and they finally reached a resolution last week.  What is this magical resolution, you ask?  Well, my dears, apparently the powers that be have decided to surgically remove my particular practice from the company and is “transferring” the entire group (including myself) to another firm.  I think I heard one VP tell me not to let the door hit my ass on the way out, or something like that.  Ha.  The good news is that this is actually turning out to be a pretty good move for us, all things considered, and I’m kind of excited about it.  There is a small paycut involved, but hey, if I were really concerned about making loads of cash, I wouldn’t be in this dorky profession in the first place.  So whatever.  The bad news is that all the HR bullshit and question-asking-and-answering has taken over my entire work life, which is stressful and totally unproductive.  Craziness.  I continue to wade through the red tape here, hopefully with a final transition within the next month or so.  Geez Louise.

(2) Remember how I decided to apply for grad school this fall (for the fall 2010 semester)?  And remember how I bought those GRE books to study for the exam?  Well, per typical DD fashion, I started studying WAYYYYYYY too late and now find myself TOTALLY SCREWED.  The exam is less than 2 weeks away, and I have a TON of shit to study.  For some reason, I thought I would just “breeze through” the math section, but apparently my brain cells have atrophied and I don’t remember any of this bullshit.  God damn, WHY do I always do this to myself???  I haven’t even gotten to the the verbal or writing sections yet!  Ahhhhhhhh!!!  I am really feeling the fire under my ass here.  Warning: blogging may be extremely limited until the exam is over because I need to study like every night from now until then.  Plus this work bullshit is sucking up all my extra time anyway.  Shit shit shit.  Must remember that the square root of 2 is 1.4, and the square root of 3 is 1.7, and 1 standard deviation above the mean is 84% of the total, and 2 st devs is 98%.  And must remember how to FOIL.  Vivid memories of nuns and yardsticks and Catholic school uniforms are swirling around in my atrophied little brain…. SHIT.

I’m not quite sure what will happen with either one of these items.  Good thing I don’t have any man drama to distract me these days!  Note: I haven’t heard from New Year’s Lips since our date last Tuesday night (a week ago, hello???), so I’m not sure if I scared him away with that STD conversation or what.  Also, no word from Hot Marine, who, per his M.O., has once again disappeared into the ether from whence he came. 

Funny story: During my little vacation, I showed my old roommate online photos of both Hot Marine and NYL.  Her response to Hot Marine: “Oh, is that him?  He’s ok I guess.”  Hahahaha, why does no one find him insanely attractive like I do???  Her response to NYL: “DAMN, he looks like a MAN!  Look at those muscles!”  Ok, that response is acceptable.  : ) 

Anyway, my dear readers, I don’t know what else to tell you except that my head is spinning with questions about medical insurance, incentive compensation, and that god damn geometry section that is next up in my math review book.  I vaguely recall something about opposite and adjacent angles.  At least there’s no trig or calc. 

God help me!!!!!!!

Here’s the thing, my dears: after last night, I actually think that there *might* be a chance of starting things back up with him again.  I’m not saying it’s going to happen, but I AM saying that I felt like things went from that casual-what-are-we-doing phase to more of a I’m-actually-interested-in-seeing-where-this-goes phase.  It was a much-needed breath of fresh air, considering the atrocious track record I’ve had with dating in the last year or so.  The night ended with a big smile on my face and a warm fuzzy feeling in my stomach.  Aww, how schmoopy.

Here’s how it went down: I got stuck late at the office last night (geez, of all the random Tuesday nights to get stuck working late, it HAD to be this one, right?), so our “big” plans got canceled, and we decided to just have a low-key night at his place.  He ordered some Thai take-out for dinner which arrived exactly five minutes after I got to his place – perfect timing.  We crashed on his couch, chatted, and scarfed down our food (mmmm… noodles with shrimp and peanut sauce), and then just kind of vegged out before heading out to catch a movie.  The conversation during dinner was great, and it was cute to be somewhat horizontal on the couch with him.  I had missed that.

We went to see “Extract” with Jason Bateman – dudes, have you seen this movie?  If not, please stop reading this post and go out and see it right now.  I’ll wait.  Seriously.  It was super funny, but not in a stupid slapstick way – more satire than stupidity, if that makes any sense.  I was cracking up the entire time.

Back at his place, we crashed on the couch again, and there was more chatting and flirting and arm touching and brushing-up-against-his-leg and all that good stuff.  Eventually he grabs my hand, pulls me in, and we start making out on the couch.  DUDES, it was so fucking nice.  It was soft and cute and he kept smiling at me and giving me these cute little looks.  He told me how much he loves my lips… and then I proceeded to have a heart attack from the cuteness of it all.  My shirt came off, and then his, but when we were horizontal and the couch and he started taking off my jeans, I knew the time had come for the super-duper-awkward STD conversation.  Which of course totally killed the mood.

Without repeating the entire conversation, I asked him if he ever got himself checked out, and I told him that based on the timing and everything I’d learned about my condition, I was fairly certain that I’d gotten it from him.  I tried to be careful not to accuse him or be rude about it, but it needed to be said.  He told me that he did, indeed, get checked out right after I had called him with the news last summer, and he came out all clear.  And he’s been tested again since then – still all clear.  And no one else that he’d been with had reported an issue either before or since we had dated last year.  Hmm.  I essentially told him that I wasn’t sure if I believed him (even though I was 99.9% sure he was being honest), but what else could I really say?  I wrapped up by saying that regardless of where I got it, I absolutely refused to go through all that medical drama again.

Then – brace yourselves, my dears – he said that he would be willing to get tested AGAIN before we did anything.  I was fairly shocked to hear him say that (mostly because I didn’t think he gave a shit, but maybe he does?), and I agreed that it would make me feel better.  (And of course, I would be willing to get tested again too.)  The entire conversation was EXTREMELY awkward and uncomfortable, but I was proud of myself for initiating the very-necessary conversation in the first place and for sticking up for myself and my health.

Afterward, we got dressed (yes, we had the whole conversation half-naked, haha), and attempted to salvage the night with a proper goodbye.  He said that he definitely wanted to hang out again (holy crap – he’s not running away!), and we had a very cute and very non-awkward kiss goodnight, complete with hands running through each other’s hair and a big hug.  I walked out, completely in shock that things didn’t blow up in my face, and excited to see him again.

So there you have it.  I am fairly amazed, somewhat confused, extremely embarrassed, but very smiley and happy.  Whatever that means.  If you exclude the STD conversation, it was the perfect date night.  If you include the STD conversation, it was amazing in the sense that we both seemed to come out of it in fairly good shape, all things considered.  I am… speechless.

Haha, ok, not really – I just wrote this entire post.  BUT, I guess I’m still very curious to see where this goes, and after last night, I’m a little more hopeful and a little more confident.  Yes, we broke up last year, and yes, there’s the STD issue… but honestly, I genuinely believe that NYL is a stand-up guy, and I’m having fun with him.  So say what you will – I’m forging ahead on this one.

The fact that he’s a hottie and stuck his tongue down my throat has absolutely nothing to do with it, I swear.  : )

**********

P.S. – I’m headed out on a mini-vacation tomorrow and will be away from the blog until early next week.  Hold down the fort while I’m gone, will ya?

Photo credit: Hot Marine (yes, you read that right).

- 20-something guys are starting to look younger and younger every day.  Like, really young.  Like, way too young for me to even consider dating.  How fucking crazy is that?   I see them walking down the street, hanging out in bars and clubs, texting random chicks on their fancy overly-complicated phones… and all I can think is, DAMN, these kids are living in a completely different world than I am.  So weird, right?  When did these guys go from “OMG I fucking want you” to “Dude, get a haircut and call me when your beard grows in?”  Hahaha, such is life, I guess.  Boys, move aside.  I need a fucking MAN.

- And speaking of real MEN, I’ve noticed that the guys I’m attracted to these days have at least a few of the following characteristics: a receding hairline, a few wrinkes around the eyes, some kind of clean-cut but nerdy outfit that shows they’re not exactly plugged into the latest trends, a kid wrapped around their leg, a wife nearby… wait, those last two weren’t exactly part of the plan, but I can’t help who I’m attracted to!  This also just goes to show that guys in my dating age range (early to mid 30s) are mostly scooped up and married.  Ugh.  But hopefully there are still a few dorky single guys out there to entertain me.  : )

- I seem to be the last remaining person on earth without a facebook account.  Here’s where I reach out to you, my lovely readers.  Is facebook worth it, or what?  Should I cave in and just do it already?  What’s the fucking point of facebook, anyway???  Like, what do you do on there?  Can everyone see all my shit?  What if I don’t want my psycho high school boyfriend tracking me down?  How much maintenance is required?  Is it going to suck up all my time?  Is it fun?  Is there a lot of spam?  Is it as fucking pointless and annoying as it seems???  : )  Please help – I am being suckered into doing this against my will and need a good (better) reason to resist all the facebook peer pressure.  Help a girl out, will ya?

- I, umm, kind of went off my Weight Watchers diet recently.  It started slowly – you know, sharing a piece of cake at a restaurant for dessert, eating an extra tablespoon of peanut butter after dinner, eating an extra bag of low-fat popcorn if I got the munchies at night.  Not too bad.  Small stuff.  Then came this long holiday weekend… and, umm, I kind of fell off the wagon.  Oops.  And you know what I realized?  I FUCKING MISS EATING LIKE A NORMAL HUMAN BEING.  All those months of sticking to the plan resulted in one very hungry, very deprived DD.  And I kind of ate way too much tonight.  And it was GOOD.  My belly is happy now.

- This “thing” (or whatever the hell it is) with New Year’s Lips is so fucking toxic.  I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again – it’s total bullshit!  I really wish he never would have texted me that night (over a month ago at this point) because I’ve been preoccupied with the whole situation ever since.  I mean, seriously, this isn’t going to go anywhere.  He’s not interested in me (I really think he’s just bored and is looking for a distraction), and honestly, although I do enjoy hanging out with him, this situation is NOT good for my mental health.  It’s all too confusing and weird and floating around in why-am-I-kinda-sorta-dating-my-ex limbo.  And I don’t like it.  I really don’t like it.  Ok???  Should I just extract myself from this situation and get it over with already???  I should, of course, but there’s only one problem: the cuteness.  Ohhhh, the cuteness.  Why oh WHY does he have to be so fucking cute?????  Stupid men and their stupid cuteness.  I swear, I’m hopeless.

I guess that’s it for tonight.  Off to bed!  But first, do I want some late-night popcorn…?  : )

Today was friggin awesome and consisted of the following extremely lazy/indulgent activities:

• Sleeping till 10:00 am
• Fresh berries and yogurt for breakfast, eaten slowly instead of rushed
• Parading around the park in my bikini
• Soaking up the sun for exactly 30 minutes on each side, no sunblock, just to get a little color
• Fresh fish and broccoli for lunch
• A little shopping, a little craftiness for a pregnant friend, a little Food Network
• Japanese takeout for dinner – oh so heavenly
• Snuggling up on the couch with a movie
• Going to sleep whenever the hell I feel like it

Umm, what’s not to love?  An entire day of doing nothing and yummy treats?  Yes please, sign me up!  I think I’ll do it again for the next two days.  Ah, the simple life… if only every day could have perfect summer weather and zero responsibility… : )

So here’s the deal.  NYL kissed me goodnight at the end of the date – a quick little kiss, no big deal, but a kiss nonetheless.  I thought it was cute.  And are you ready for this, my dears???  He said that I “seemed offended.”  Umm, hello???  Offended?  Really?  Shit!  Either I’m giving out offended faces to my dates without being aware of it (which is certainly possible – I am a big dork, after all), or NYL is just on a completely different wavelength than I am.  How could I possibly have been offended by a kiss from a tall, dark, and handsome hottie?  Geez!!!!  I’m telling you, this is exactly why I’m still single.

Sooooo… what to do, what to do.  I tried to reassure him that I wasn’t, in fact, offended that he kissed me, and that perhaps I just might be looking forward to another kiss down the line.  Ahem.  Which we established will be next Tuesday night – another random middle-of-the-week pseudo-date that doesn’t fit nicely into any of my pre-determined date boxes.  Know what I mean?  As in, why can’t we hang out on a Fri or Sat night?  This whole thing is such bullshit, no?  I may not have been offended after the kiss, but I think I’m getting a little offended now.  Like my misadventures with Hot Marine, this thing with NYL is turning into a toxic mess much sooner than I had anticipated.  I just feel like I’m being dragged along for the ride and am miles away from the steering wheel.  Aarrrgghhhhhh.  Not cool, if you ask me.

So how does one detox from a pair of toxic relationships?  A three-day holiday weekend followed by a short work week and a little trip to DC for some Obama-stalking and college-roommate-reminiscing, perhaps?  Why yes, I think that sounds like a great idea.  : )

This post serves as an official public service announcement to all geeky guys who hang out at bookstores on random Wednesday nights after work, in particular, groups of cute early-30s geeky guys sitting around a table, drinking coffee, chatting about video games and computers and being completely nerdy and ridiculous.  Guys, please pay attention, ok?  This is important stuff.  Stuff that might actually pry you away from your geeky microsoft vs. apple vs. world of warcraft vs. whatever-the-fuck-you-talk-about conversations and might actually get you in bed with a hot naked chick.  Do I have your undivided attention?  Good, thank you.  Please note:

• When I walk into the coffee-and-table area of the bookstore, make eye contact with you, casually peruse the area for open seats, and then start walking toward your table… it means that I might be interested.
• When I finally choose the seat right next to you, cutely plop down with my pile of nerdy books, and flip my hair in that I’m-single-and-looking kind of way… it means that I might be interested.
• When I purposefully get up and walk by your table to get a cup of coffee, again making eye contact, and then walk by again on my way back to my seat… it means that I might be interested.
• When I randomly look over at you while perusing my nerdy books and smirk when you say something completely geeky and kind of funny… it means that I might be interested.
• When I’m done with my books and make eye contact again as I’m leaving.. it means that I might be interested.
• When I see you gathered outside the store a little later, purposefully walk by, make eye contact, and smile at you… it means – hello???? – I’m fucking interested!  Follow me!  Get my attention!

Geez.  Geeky guys of New York bookstores: take the hint.  I’m interested.  Approach me.  I won’t bite, unless you ask me to… in which case I’ll do a lot more than just bite.  Ok???  : )

Now that he’s leaving the blogosphere, I have to make a confession – I’ve always had a little behind-the-scenes internet crush on The Virgin.  There was just something about the brutal honesty in his writing, and I could relate to some of the dating-related angst/anguish that he’s been through.  Also, I have it on good authority that the The Virgin, despite all his talk about his non-stellar appearance, is actually a cutie and has been hiding it from us all this time.  Oh, the humanity!  Hopefully single women in his neck of the woods will open their eyes and give this guy the amazing headboard-breaking sex he deserves.

Anyway, if you haven’t been keeping up with his site, head on over for his final post before the whole thing magically disappears into the cyberspace black hole.  Virgin – best of luck!  Go forth and GET LAID (again), my dear!!!  : )

• After 33 years of marriage, my parents got re-married today.  Very, very cute. 
• I was one of only 3 single people at the event.  My 77-year-old grandmother and a divorced friend of my mom’s were the other two.  It was kind of depressing.
• My mom – the bride – gave everyone gifts.  Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around?
• One of the gifts from mom was a mixed tape that my grandfather (who had passed away a few years ago) had made me when I was ~5 years old, gave it to my mom, and told her to give it to me “when I was an adult.”  I have no idea what’s on this tape, but I burst out in tears when I unwrapped it, complete with my grandfather’s handwriting and everything.  So incredibly emotional.  Now I just have to find a cassette player to see what’s on the tape…
• I realized (for the millionth time) that I really don’t like my family all that much, but they’re my family, and I love them anyway.  Know what I mean?

That’s about it.  No sex/dating update because absolutely nothing is going on – the horror!  I’m still curious to see where (if anywhere) this whole New Year’s Lips thing is going to go… and I admit that I had a dream about him last night that was basically a compilation of all the great sex we had last year.  You know those “cum shot” compilations that you see on porn sites?  Yeah, it was kind of like that.  Ha.  : )

Hope you all had a great weekend!

First up, the scale: I weighed in this morning at a shockingly low (for me) 122.5 pounds.  At 5′8″, even I will finally admit that I’m looking pretty thin at this point.

I busted out the tape measure and came up with the following measurements:

• 34.5 (widest part of bust)
• 26.0 (smallest part of waist)
• 35.0 (widest part of hips/butt)

The size 6 cargo pants that I bought in the spring (right before WW when none of my regular size 4 pants fit me anymore) can now slide on and off without even undoing the button/zipper.  Needless to say, these are way too big for me to wear anymore.

The size 4 work pants that I wore to the office yesterday are sitting very low on my hips… so low, in fact, that I’m debating whether I can still wear these to work without exposing my ass every time I bend over.  Also, even with my highest (4-inch) heels, I’m still stepping on the hem when I walk.

And the extra room at the waist:

My skinny jeans (size 28 waist, which I’d say is about a small size 4) fit comfortably but are no longer tight, and I wouldn’t really call them “skinny” anymore.  They fit well, but after wearing them all day, they stretch out and I get a saggy butt – eww.

And there’s a bit of extra room at the waist:

I’ve been getting pretty excited about all the loose pants (and my new size 2 shorts that fit like a glove), but I kinda feel bad for one of the few victims of this transformation – my boobs.  Yes, I’ve been losing boobage just like I’ve been losing weight everywhere else.  Before WW, I was popping out of my A-cups and fitting comfortably into a B-cup.  Now, sadly, I can’t even fill up the A-cups and my bras are hanging off me!  It’s hard to see in the crappy photo below, but the black space between my boobs and the edge of the bra is just empty space that was once filled by boobage.  How sad!

I’m not sure how much farther I really want to go (I’m happy with how I am now, believe it or not), but I’m absolutely terrified of gaining anything back.  I’ve slowly been eating a few extra calories per day (an extra cookie here and there, dessert at a restaurant if someone will split it with me), so hopefully I’m loosening the grip on my food intake.  But with that said, I’m SO happy I took the plunge and made a change – I feel like my old self again (physically anyway), feel more confident about my body, and have been eating much, much healthier than before.

Unexpected side effects (both good and bad) of the weight loss/dieting include the following:

• Digestive happiness
• Significantly clearer skin (I can count the number of zits I’ve had in the last 4 months on one hand)
• Significantly stronger nails
• Healthier hair (less breakage, less hair in the drain after a shower)
• Bony shoulders, ribs, and hips
• Loss of some muscle mass (my groceries seem heavier these days)
• Somewhat screwed up menstrual cycle (although it’s getting better)
• Heightened understanding of nutritional needs and mechanics

Overall, I think this was definitely a positive change in my life.  If only I had the extra cash lying around to buy myself a whole new (smaller) wardrobe!

You’re all right, my dears!  I admit it!  I agree on all fronts.  But come on, seriously, don’t you know me well enough by now???  : )  I’m enjoying this, and I haven’t had anything decent going on in a loooooong-ass time.  Can we all agree on that?  Yes?  Oh good, thank you.  And can we all agree that NYL is an attractive, educated, well spoken, tall, funny, dorky, non-virgin who doesn’t live with his parents AND is actually interested in me?  And can we all agree that this mystical combination of circumstances hasn’t appeared in my life for a really fucking long time?  Yes?  YES???  Ok then.  Now that we’ve got that established, let us all shield our eyes as I forge ahead into familiar yet precarious territory, smiling from ear to ear with every perilous step.

Now, before I get to the details of last night, let’s establish a baseline, shall we?  I’ve gone ahead and made up a little list of things that are supposed to make you feel better about this situation.  As you read them, put on some soft music, imagine you’re sitting on a rainbow eating gingerbread cookies, and maybe wrap yourself in something cuddly and warm.  Work with me here, ok peeps?  : )

DD’s Chill-The-Fuck-Out Probably-True Statements About NYL:

(1) We’re not dating.  We went out for drinks ONCE three weeks ago and went out to dinner ONCE last night.  He’s not my new man, he’s not my boyfriend, he’s not anything.  Just an ex that I happen to be hanging out with again.  Tra la la… this is so easy and comforting, isn’t it?  : )

(2) We’re not having sex.  I repeat, there has been NO SEX since we’ve gotten back in touch.  We kissed last night and that was IT.  All pants have stayed on, and my sexy little panties haven’t made a debut in his presence.  La la la… moving right along… are we all skipping and eating lollipops and frolicking in the meadow? 

(3) IF it looks like things are moving toward the realm of anything even remotely sexual, I promise to do the following: (a) have a very blunt talk with him about the whole STD issue, and (b) absolutely require that he get a full STD workup and report back to me with the results.  I am willing to wait, and I am willing to get another workup myself.  If he’s not into it, fine.  No sex then.  If he disappears, fine.  I absolutely refuse to get anywhere near him without paperwork to back me up.  I will NOT go through that again.  I repeat: I will NOT go through that again.  Period.

(4) I firmly believe that NYL is a stand-up guy, and I’m 99% sure that he didn’t know he was infected when he gave me the STD.  So, I’m kinda finding it hard to hate him, especially when he gets all dressed up and takes me out to dinner.  La la la… thinking happy thoughts…

(5) I’m not looking at this as a potentially serious relationship.  I’m just enjoying spending time with a familiar guy who I happen to get along with fairly well and who happens to be friggin adorable.  Ok?  : )  La la la… these probably-true statements just keep getting truer and truer with each one… la la la… : )

So, do we feel all warm and fuzzy now?  Ah, I thought so.  See how good I am at making things alllll better???

Anyway, I barely left enough room in this post for the details of our cute little date last night!  Shame on me, really.  To be honest, there isn’t all that much to say about it except that I had a great time and am pretty sure he did too.  It was totally a date, sealed with a kiss goodnight at my apartment door.  After the kiss, I behaved like a total chick and said, “So, what is this?  What are we doing here?”  And he was all, “Don’t worry, I have no agenda.  We both had fun, right?  I’m just taking this as it is.  Are you ok with that?”  And I said I was (regardless of whether I really am or not).  And that was that.  Who cares if I just kissed my ex-non-boyfriend who gave me an STD and suddenly reappeared in my life after a year and a half?  Let’s just focus on the fact that he’s a cutie and I need a little cuteness in my life right now.  Call me crazy, call me desperate, call me what you will.  I don’t care.  I had fun last night, and let’s leave it at that.  Ok, my dears?  : )

P.S. – Warning – totally immature 5th-grade-girl moment in 3… 2… 1…

OMG NYL is so fucking adorable!!!!!!!!!  Ahhhh!!!!! 

Phew – I needed to get that out.  : )

P.P.S. – Did you ever hear that the number of smiley faces in a blog post is directly proportional to the level of denial of the author?  Oh good, I’ve never heard that either.

: )

I will be smiling like an idiot until further notice.

Details tomorrow.  : )

I’m slowly getting back to normal over here.  (Why do I feel like so many of my posts lately are about getting back to normal, re-entry, resurfacing, healing, adjusting, dealing?)  I decided to take yet another day off from work and stayed home today to continue to let my body heal.  I got up this morning planning on heading into the office but barely made it past a shower and breakfast.  The physical ordeal of the weekend has left my body in such a state of shock that I think the healing process is going to take longer than I had originally thought.  I’m still very weak and moving around slowly, and although my stomach is handling regular meals, my energy level and tolerance for walking around, climbing stairs, or doing anything even remotely strenuous is essentially zero.  We’ll see how it goes tomorrow.

In other news, tomorrow night I still have plans to have dinner with New Year’s Lips.  God, remember that?  I don’t want to cancel because this will be our second attempt at dinner (after going out for drinks three weeks ago), and I’ve been looking forward to it… so I guess I’ll play it by ear.  If I’m feeling ok, I’ll go and just take it easy – NO alcohol.  If not, I’ll reschedule.  I still don’t know what he’s looking for out of this, but damn it, I want a kiss goodnight.  Is that so much to ask???  : )

Everything else in my real life has been on hold for the past few days, and I need to get things moving again.  I haven’t paid any bills, responded to emails from friends and family, made any progress on miscellaneous errands and other shit that needs to get done, etc.  You know, life in general.  Hot Marine has been MIA, thank god.  I really need to cleanse my life of that toxic addiction.  I have a big family thing going on this Sunday that I need to get ready for, and things at the office (from what I hear via various phone calls) are starting to explode and need to be corralled back into the herd.  Ahhhhh, life.  I’ve had a little hiatus and need to get back to things.  Let’s all cross our fingers that I wake up feeling like a normal human being tomorrow so I can get back to the daily grind (I almost can’t believe these words are coming out of my mouth).

Goals for tomorrow include the following:

(1) Read all the unread emails in my personal and work inboxes (a daunting task in and of itself).
(2) Make sure I pay any bills that have been sitting on my kitchen table for too long.
(3) Fix anything at work that exploded in my absence (hopefully only a few little things).
(4) Avoid sharing the details of my absence with the entire office.
(5) Survive the day at work without having to use the hallway walls for support and without any emergency trips to the restroom.
(6) Go out for dinner with NYL, eat a bland/safe dinner, DON’T DRINK ANYTHING, and maybe, just *maybe*, get a friggin kiss goodnight.  It would be nice.  Hello, universe?  Are you listening?  Please, work with me on this one.  For the love of god, I want that kiss goodnight!

Perhaps I’ll report back on my progress later in the week.  : )

For now, I’m off to bed, where hopefully my exhausted body will continue to heal, and my fragile psyche will continue to toughen up a bit.  If only courage and confidence could be administered as easily as saline solution through an IV.

Saturday night: I went out with some friends for drinks, dancing, and general debauchery.  After a long, kind of depressing week, I decided to go for a stronger drink than usual – a Long Island iced tea.  They remind me of college and make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.  Mmmmmmm.

My friends and I are sitting at a table waiting for the band to start up, sipping our drinks, chatting, etc.  We order the second round of drinks – another LIT for me – and finally the band is ready and we ditch the table and head over to the dance floor.

I’m pretty buzzed.  Drunk, in fact.  I remember tripping over myself a lot, bumping into people on the dance floor, but not really caring because I was having such a great time.  It’s my turn to get the drinks (third round), and I take a break from busting a move to head over to the bar.  I order the drinks and remember reaching into my purse for some cash… and that’s the last thing I coherently remember of that night.  It was about 11:30.

I have four distinct one-second flashes after that:

(1) I’m sitting on the floor of the bathroom in the bar, puking into the toilet.

(2) Some random guy carries me out of the bathroom.

(3) I’m sitting at the front of the bar, puking onto the floor (I think).

(4) I’m walking back home, relying very heavily on friends to support me as I can barely walk.

Each of these memories is literally no more than a second long.  Apparently we didn’t leave the bar until 2:00.

Next thing I know, I’m back at my apartment, in my bed, and it’s about 4:00 in the morning.  I get up to go to the bathroom and see one friend sleeping on the floor of my bedroom and another one on the couch in the living room.  I throw up a few more times in the bathroom, change out of my party clothes, and climb back into bed.

Now it’s about 8:30 am.  My friends are awake.  I can barely move.  They ask me if I’m ok, and I think I said that I’d probably be all right in a few hours.  They tell me to drink lots of water.  I apologize a few dozen times for making an ass out of myself and ruining everybody’s night.  They tell me that guys were hitting on them as they were carrying me home – hilarious.  They head home, I get up to puke again, and I move from my bed to the couch so that at least I can watch tv if I’m going to be sick all day. 

I last about an hour before I have to puke again.  I have no idea how many times I had thrown up at that point – I can’t even count the times I remember, let alone the times I don’t.  I try to take a sip of water, but it just makes me feel even worse.  I think I threw up another one or two times after that… it got to the point where I was puking every 10 minutes and couldn’t keep any water down at all.

I remember being really, really scared.  I knew that if I kept throwing up and couldn’t drink anything I would get really dehydrated, really fast, and I had a feeling I had actually gotten to that point a long time ago.  My entire body ached.  I was getting a headache.  I started shaking.  I couldn’t move.  I couldn’t stop throwing up.

My only thought: call 911.

The five minutes that elapsed between me hanging up the phone and the ambulance arriving were the longest five minutes of my entire life.  I was absolutely panicked.  Somehow I managed to unlock the door to my apartment so that they could find me and get in.  I remember feeling so absolutely alone and so terrified that something would happen to me and no one would ever know.  Hearing the siren coming down my street was such a huge relief – I can’t even explain how good that felt.  I don’t wait for them to find me – I stumble out of my apartment and climb onto the stretcher, hardly wearing any clothes (just pajamas), no shoes, no nothing.  I did remember to grab my purse so that I’d have a phone, my ID, and my health insurance card.  Funny how I remembered the purse but not shoes or a shirt that actually covered my chest.

By the time I get into the ambulance, I’m convulsing and can barely make any voluntary movements.  I can’t even lift my arm as the EMT is putting in the IV.  I barely get out my name, age, etc. and tell them that all my info is in my purse and to just go in and take whatever they need.  One of the EMTs is asking me about my job, which I assume was to keep me awake/alert.  It worked.  I remember using the term “political opposition” as my body shook and my head pounded – funny how my brain was still hanging on even after my body had given up.  I have no idea what’s happening around me except for two things: (1) there’s an IV in my arm, and (2) at least now someone is with me in case anything happens.  It was so comforting to know that I wasn’t going to drop dead alone in my apartment.

It’s amazing how much trust you can put in complete strangers when you’re not really given a choice in the matter.  I was completely vulnerable.  I’m still amazed that none of my cash or credit cards disappeared during this whole fiasco.  I guess there’s some good in this world after all.

It felt like it took forever to arrive at the hospital, but we finally got to the ER.  I kept asking the EMTs to adjust my blankets because I was absolutely freezing and couldn’t move my arms to do it myself.  They moved me to a hospital bed, and then both arms went completely numb.

A little while later, they move me from the ER hallway to one of the rooms, I notice that I have those heart-monitor sticky attachment things all over my chest, and I’m hooked up to a few machines.  I’m still freezing and still can’t move.  I’m very concerned about what will happen if I have to go to the bathroom and somehow manage to get the nurse to give me the call button just in case.  Seeing the button made me feel much better, even if I couldn’t move my arm to grab it.

A few hours passed, and I lost count of how many times the nurse replaced the IV bag or injected unknown substances into my arm.  I slept a lot.  I gave the hospital admittance person my purse.  I signed a few electronic screens and pieces of paper with a hand that could barely grip the pen.  I had no idea what I was signing and decided to completely trust these people because, really, what choice did I have.  At one point I stumbled half-naked down the hallway to give a urine sample.  I forgot to close the bathroom door while doing it.

I didn’t throw up again since I had left my apartment.  Eventually I started feeling warmer and could move my limbs again.  I didn’t feel so nauseated anymore.  I could coherently answer the nurse’s questions.  Everyone was very nice to me, very caring, very comforting.  I remember seeing other patients and their families go in and out of the ER as I half-slept, and I remember looking over at the empty chairs next to my bed and wishing that someone was there to hold my hand.  I remember thinking how amazingly comforting it would be if someone had been holding my hand.  But the chairs were dark and empty.

At the end of the day (around 6:00 pm maybe?), the doctor came in with some ice chips and ginger ale.  I managed to get down a few chips and a few sips of the soda, which apparently was the signal that I could go home.  After some hospital-shenanigans with moving beds and signing more paperwork and figuring out where the hell I was, I managed to gather my things and call a friend to pick me up.  The nurse’s words when she discovered that my belongings consisted of a tank top, a pair of shorts, and my purse: “That’s it?  Where’s all your stuff?  Don’t you have any shoes?”  Umm, nope. 

It took about an hour for my friend to arrive.  We stopped at a grocery store to pick up some soup and crackers for my apartment, and thankfully, she brought me a jacket so that I wouldn’t have to walk around in the store with my chest hanging out.  It was bad enough I was walking around in public with no shoes and looking like an emaciated zombie.  So embarrassing.

By the time we got back to my apartment, I was feeling half-decent and starving, which I took to be a very good sign.  I scarfed down some chicken soup, saltines, and Gatorade.  My friend stayed while I ate and made sure I was ok to leave alone for the night.  We said goodbye, I took a shower, I sent a quick email to my boss that I would be out sick the next day, and I went to bed.

When I woke up this morning I felt much, much better.  My entire body was sore from throwing up so much, but my stomach was feeling stronger, and I kind of felt like myself again.  I spent the day eating soup and crackers, drinking lots of Gatorade, and cleaning up my puke-covered apartment.  I scrubbed my clothes and the bathroom.  I salvaged the jewelry that was stuck to my dresser (eww).  I organized the mess of paperwork that had been shoved into my purse.  Like I mentioned earlier, I was amazed to see that all my cash and credit cards were still there. 

I still don’t remember most of Saturday night.

I am so incredibly thankful for the help of my friends and for the care given to me by the EMTs and the hospital staff.  It’s amazing how kind people can be when you’re making a complete ass out of yourself and are completely helpless and incoherent.  I’m so, so glad that I had enough rational thought to call 911 – the first time I’ve ever called 911 in my almost 30 years.  Who knows what would have happened if I had stayed in my apartment by myself.  The whole experience was terrifying yet strangely comforting.  If nothing else, it put everything into perspective.  Apparently there are more important things in life than sex and dating, but being alone during a crisis is some fucking scary shit.  It would have been nice to have someone there… but I feel secure knowing that I managed to get the help I needed.  Thank god I called for help.

Tonight I’m getting ready to go back to work and get on with my life.  My stomach is stronger, my body is recovering, and the only evidence that remains is a big red blotch on my arm from the IV and the fact that I still look fairly emaciated.  My apartment and clothes are clean, my hair is washed, my teeth are brushed, and I think I’m finally ok.  I’m not a religious girl, but I really do thank god that nothing worse happened.

I am beyond embarrassed about the entire incident, especially all the public puking on Saturday night.  From what my friends tell me, what I remember in those little flashes only scratches the surface.  I can never show my face at that bar again.  I never want to drink again.  I can’t believe so many strangers saw me half-naked.  I just can’t believe I did that to myself.

I’m just so glad that I’m ok.  Thank you to all who helped me this weekend.  Thank you so very, very much.  I really owe you one (or ten).

First of all, I’m still sticking to the Weight Watchers program, and although I haven’t really lost any more weight in the last month or so (why is that?), I did see a brand spanking new number on the scale this morning…

… which was a little thing that made me happy.  : )

Secondly, this morning I had to go shopping for a wedding card and picture frames, and both of these seemingly little things made me cry in the middle of the stores.  I didn’t break out in sobs, but a few little tears dripped down my eyes in both cases.  The wedding card aisle is self explanatory.  As for the picture frames, all the example photos were of happy couples or smiling families, and again, self explanatory.  Both times I had to quickly remove myself from the aisle so as to not make an idiot out of myself in public.

I’ve been crying at everything lately.  It’s gotten so bad that I actively avoid thinking about or talking about couples, dating, children, etc.  I just can’t handle it.  What the hell is wrong with me these days?  I can’t blame it all on hormones because this has been going on for a while… sigh.

In other news, I’m going out with the girls tonight, and hopefully a few stiff drinks will make me feel alllllllll better.  Happy weekend!  : )

Not to mention the fact that I’d already put a bit of effort into tonight – I did my laundry on Monday so that I’d have plenty of cute clothes to choose from, last night I plucked my eyebrows and painted my toenails, and this morning I got up extra early before work to shave my legs (and everything else that goes along with that) and straighten my hair.  Geez, what a waste!  Do guys have any idea how much preparation goes into these things and how it’s so NOT COOL to cancel at the last minute???

Anyway, we rescheduled to next Wednesday.  Whatever. 

I have to say, this whole dating thing has really turned into a very sensitive topic with me.  It’s gotten to the point where I can hardly even talk about it with people because my eyes always start welling up and I have to leave the room for fear of sobbing in public.  It’s horrible.  So, I’ve been trying to focus on other things that make me happy lately, and I have to say, it’s been working pretty well.  I just need to distract myself with more productive pursuits.  So off I go to do something productive tonight (my crafty gene has kicked in and I have a few cute little projects to work on), and I’ll see my friend later on.

Hope you’re all in much better spirits than I am tonight!

In light of the funk I was in last week (and still am to a lesser extent), I took Friday off and indulged myself in a 3-day weekend full of all the little things that make me happy.  I spent very little time at the computer (which was such a strange change of pace!) and essentially took a mini-vacation from my life, retreating into my own little world of peace and goodness.  It was unbelievably refreshing and the little slice of heaven that I needed. 

On Friday I had a long-overdue shopping day and romped around the city, stopping at all my favorite little hole-in-the-wall shops and picking up bags of goodies everywhere I went (let us not speak of the looming credit card bill).  Hands down, it was the most fun I’ve had in a very long time.  I was completely in my element and was over-the-top excited about the haul of pure goodness that came home with me.  I was squealing with delight, as you can imagine.  I am a girl, after all!  In addition to the planned stops along my shopping route (you can only imagine how much planning went into this), I randomly stumbled upon some awe-inspiring paintings and ordered a series of prints for my apartment.  These paintings have left me speechless, inspired, and reflective, and although I’ve always been a supporter of the arts, these particular pieces are just exactly my taste and I wish I could single-handedly support the artist in whatever she chooses to do.  Amazing.

Saturday and Sunday were spent holed up in my apartment with a big smile on my face as I played with my new toys and watched the Food Network.  I’m a simple girl, and these simple little things made me so, so happy.  It was really the perfect long weekend.

I suppose I have to get back to my normal life tomorrow morning, but at least I’ll go in feeling refreshed, energized, and inspired.  Very inspired, actually.  It’s kind of a cool feeling.  I should definitely do this more often.  : )

To be honest, I think I lead an intensely lonely existence.  I think I would classify myself as feeling “extremely lonely” for the past seven years, ever since I started grad school.  I haven’t really had a serious boyfriend since the five-year BF and I broke up, and although I’ve always had a small group of friends, I’ve never been really close with any of them, with the exception of my old college roommate (who lives a few states away).  I wake up alone, go to work and sit in my cube alone in a relatively deserted part of the office, eat lunch at my desk alone, come home to an empty apartment, eat dinner alone in front of the tv, hang out in my apartment either on the computer or watching a movie, then go to bed alone, only to wake up and do the same thing all over again the next day.  Trust me, it can be really isolating at times.  Yeah, I hang out with friends on the weekends and occasionally after work, and I always have fun with them, but the monotony of mid-week solitude is getting to me.  Sometimes I think that if I suddenly disappeared, no one would even notice.  Isn’t that a horrible feeling?

I don’t think going back to school will cure my loneliness, but at least it’ll keep me busier and be something different for me to do all day.  I spent two years at a large university and was intensely lonely and depressed the entire time… so school is not the cure.  I suppose I need to be more outgoing/aggressive about making friends, but that is just SO not my personality. 

As for relationships, my current thought as to why I’m still single – and I’m being brutally honest here – is that I just don’t have a pretty face.  Sad but true.  I just don’t think guys are attracted to me!  Lately I’ve been noticing the faces of random women walking down the street and comparing their face to their body.  I concluded that having a pretty face can MORE than make up for a not-so-great body.  For example, a few extra pounds on a woman with a beautiful face are barely noticeable, but the same few extra pounds on a not-so-great looking face are extremely noticeable, adding to her overall state of unattractiveness.  It seems that no matter how you change your body, you’re pretty much stuck with your face – for better or for worse.  And I feel like although I think I have a damn good body (especially now that I lost some weight), it just doesn’t matter because I still have a crappy face.  God, this is so depressing as I’m writing this, but I really believe in my theory here.  There are times when I think about how amazingly different my life would be if I had a pretty face, and I think about all the things I would be willing to give up to have been born with one.  I feel like it’s just not fair and that I’m doomed to a life of rejection because of my weird/ugly face.  I often spend time in front of a mirror making faces that I know I make during normal conversation, and I’m SHOCKED to see how incredibly UGLY I look making them.  I mean, DAMN, this is how people see me everyday???  No wonder I’m still single!

Sigh.  I know this post is kind of a downer, but I’ve been in kind of a funk all day.  Sorry peeps.  I’m actually taking the day off from work tomorrow and going on a bit of a shopping trip (alone – couldn’t get anyone to come with me!), so hopefully I’ll be in a better mood tomorrow.  For now, I’m off to my big, empty bed to wallow in my loneliness.  I wonder if there will ever be a time in my life when I won’t be lonely anymore… to be honest, I can’t even imagine it.

OH BABY.  : )

That’s right, my dears, I am absolutely ecstatic to announce that I have decided to apply to grad school.  *Squeals with excitement!*  Going back to school has been something that’s been swirling around in my mind for several years now, and I always tell myself that if an idea manages to stick around in my head for the long-term, chances are good that I really want to do it.  Every fall I tell myself that I’m going to apply, and every fall I manage to flake out on myself for one reason or another.  It’s always something – busy times at work, great weather, plans with friends, and the most popular culprit: man drama, of course.  I get caught up in all sorts of miscellaneous things, and before I know it, the application deadlines have passed and I have to wait yet another year before I have the opportunity to try again.  But not this year, my dears.  I’m starting early (the deadlines are in December) and have absolutely no excuse this time around.  I wrote myself a little post-it note promising myself that I would apply, stuck the little note on my fridge, and am forging ahead with a big fat smile on my face.  I think I really want this.

Here’s why:

I’m craving intellectual stimulation

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my career and the direction it’s taking compared to the direction I had envisioned/wanted/still want.  I have a great job, but I realized a while ago that in order to do what really gets my juices flowing (professionally speaking), I have to embrace academia.  My company just doesn’t do cutting edge stuff because clients won’t pay for it (and I don’t blame them, honestly), and a life worth of mundane monotony just isn’t acceptable to me.  After being bored at my desk for five years and not using a single brain cell, I’m absolutely CRAVING some intellectual stimulation, something to wake me up and put my dorky skillz to good use.  In all honesty, I think I’m a pretty smart chica, and it drives me crazy to be wasting away in my sunless cube year after year.  I want to push myself and use my brain for its intended purpose.  Not too much to ask, don’t you think?  And at school I can do whatever the hell I want!  (Pretty much, anyway.)  There are grants for just about everything and a wide variety of programs I can apply to… so the possibilities are endless.  So freaking exciting.

My personal plans didn’t work out

When I finished my master’s five years ago, one of the main reasons that I didn’t continue in school was that I didn’t want to put my life on hold for another 4-5 years while I got a Ph.D.  I had a boyfriend and big plans to move back to the city, have all sorts of exciting adventures, get married, have babies, and live a fabulous life.  Hell, I was 24 and had been in school my entire life – I wanted out!  I wanted to live!  So I moved back to the city, broke up with the five-year BF, got a desk job, dated a LOT with nothing to show for my efforts, didn’t get married, didn’t have a family, and am in exactly the same place as I started, only five years older with a few more wrinkles on my face and a few more dollars in my previously-empty bank account.  Hmm.  Not quite what I expected.  At all.  I mentioned in Sunday’s post that I need to accept the fact that, despite my efforts, I’m not all that much closer to achieving any of my major personal goals than I was five years ago, and my big plans to “live my life” just didn’t happen.  Bummer.  Should I wait another five years to end up back in exactly the same spot again?  No thanks.  I’m done waiting.  I’ve had it!  I need to MOVE THE HELL ON and do something different, and I think going back to school is just the thing.  I’ll move to a new city, meet new people, and start over with a clean slate.

I think it’ll make me happy

And really, what other reason do I need?  For the past several years, the thought of going back to school has made me all giddy with excitement, and my little dorky heart is absolutely overflowing with ideas and plans and all sorts of goodness.  Really, enough said.  : )

But here’s the kicker

Going back to school full-time has quite a few implications, as you can imagine. 

• I’ll be giving up my financial freedom and will be tied to the university for cost of living expenses, health care, etc.
• The money I’ve been saving for the past five years will slowly but surely be spent on application fees, moving, and living expenses during my first year (or less!).
• I won’t be buying any real estate for a LONG time.
• I won’t be having a family for a LONG time.  (Should I freeze my eggs just in case?)
• I’ll be insanely busy and will lose my free nights and weekends.  Sigh.
• I’ll potentially be very far away from my family and friends, with no money for airfare to visit on holidays.
• I’ll be very, very broke for a very, very long time.  My entire lifestyle will have to change.  I’ll have to find a dinky little studio apartment and give up my expensive habits (buying clothes, cable tv, fancy sushi dinners – oh, the horror!). 

The financial aspect of going back is one of the main reasons that I’ve shied away from applying in the past, but honestly, I think I should just bite the bullet and go for it.  I mean, grad students somehow find a way to manage every single day.  Hell, I did it for two years!  I’ll figure it out.  It’ll be ok.  I’ll make adjustments.  And you know what?  No one cares how you dress (or smell) in grad school, and no one else has cable tv either.  I’ll survive.  : )

Taking the first step

So, I’ve made this crazy-ass decision… now what?  Truth be told, I really haven’t done anything except a few nights of internet research on potential programs and a quick purchase of the two GRE prep books that you see above.  So right now I’m all talk and no action.  BUT, I’m energized and intend to push myself forward, knowing that the simple act of applying is a hell of a lot of work.  God help me.  But it will be SO worth it, right?  I cracked open the vocabulary book this evening and found quite a few absolutely ridiculous words that I suppose I’ll have to learn.  As a math/science person, I don’t use big words.  I’m a little scared.  Case in point:

Shiiiiiiiiit.  And get a load of this beauty: “ersatz.”  What the FREAKING HELL is that???  Do people really USE this word, like, ever???  Geez!  Here’s the definition:

Fake.  Ok, I guess I can remember that.  Kind of like how I’ll have to have an ersatz heart attack to get out of taking this exam.  : )  But whatever, I’ve taken the GRE before (and didn’t do too badly) and can do it again, god damn it.  I just need to power through it, just like all the applications that will follow.

So that’s the big news!  I’m excited.  I haven’t decided 100% that I’m going to go back (it all depends on where I get in, IF I get in, where/if I get funding, if I still want to do this when spring rolls around, etc., etc., etc.).  But for now, I’ve decided that I AM going to apply.  For a freaking Ph.D.  OH BABY.  : )

I bought the album knowing that “Know Your Enemy” was the newest single, and being absolutely in love with every Green Day song that pops up on the radio (including this one), I figured I’d like the entire album and might as well just cough up the cash for my own little slice of Green Day heaven.  And dudes, it did not disappoint.  In addition to “Know Your Enemy,” the other big single on the album is “21 Guns.”  Have you heard this yet?  I haven’t heard it on the radio and had the pleasure of listening to it for the first time this afternoon, and I have to say, I really dig it, for lack of a more sophisticated expression.  : )  It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy and energized and mellow in all the right places, know what I mean?  It’s also getting more and more clear with each album that they release that they’ve come a long way from the teen-angst garage-band stuff (which I loved, don’t get me wrong) and have evolved into something really interesting and intriguing.  Go check out “21 Guns” when you get a chance, and let me know what you think. 

I actually haven’t gotten to the end of the album yet, so I have a few more goodies waiting for me tomorrow.  Considering the lack of excitement in my life these days, it’s comforting to know that I’ve got a little Billie Joe on the back burner.  If only I could get my hands on him in person…  : )

I’ve also come to the realization that I’ve been putting my life on hold, waiting around for things to happen, and none of them are even close to happening after waiting for five years.  And I haven’t been waiting idly, either.  I’m still single, despite my nearly constant effort to put myself out there and find something meaningful.  I’m still childless, despite saving and saving for adoption fees and child-raising costs that I’m doubtful I’ll ever be able to afford on my own.  I’m still renting, again, despite saving and saving for a downpayment on a little 1-bedroom condo that still eludes me.  And I’m still cute-furry-ball-of-love cat-less, since I can’t get a cat until I move out of this apartment, and I’m NOT moving until I can afford to buy something.  Professionally, my career is moving along at an ok speed, but I can’t seem to push myself to the next level because my heart just isn’t in it.  The monotony is getting to me, and I sit at my desk all day bored, bored, bored. 

After five years, I think I need something different.  I can see myself waiting and waitng and waiting, and pretty soon I’m 40 and nothing has changed.  Something has to change NOW to give my life a little meaning, something to motivate me and push me forward and get me excited about my everyday life again.  Perhaps I need to temporarily let go of goals that just aren’t realistic in the short-term (the baby and condo really will have to wait until I can save more money), and perhaps finding someone just isn’t in the cards for me.  I’m not giving up, but I think I need to accept the fact that I might just wind up living my life alone, and I need to get past that and MOVE ON with other aspects of my life.  My plans for my life just aren’t working out the way I had hoped, so perhaps it’s time for acceptance, regrouping, and formulating a new plan.  It’s a very hard thing to do, and I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes as I’m writing this, but I need to accept the reality of my situation.  I also need to accept the fact that my particular profession (which, in theory, I truly love) just doesn’t earn very much money, and reaching my financial goals is going to take a long, long time on my one meager salary.  I need to learn to stop comparing myself to dual-income friends who seem to be light years ahead of me – friends with husbands and children and real estate and adult furniture (the inside of my apartment still looks like a dorm room).  I need to accept these things, because constantly feeling behind is sucking the life right out of me.

I’m bored and disappointed with the way my life has been going, and I’m not ok with that.  I may never get married, I may never have children, and (if I stay in my current profession) I may never be able to afford the things I’d like to buy, but there are some things that I do have control over, and I think it’s about time for a change.

As much as I hate to admit it, I was beyond excited to hang out with New Year’s Lips again, if for no other reason than the fact that my last date was hideous and NYL has always been a super-hot red-blooded MAN.  I mean, honestly, the guy is freaking HOT.  And last night he did not disappoint.  I walked into the bar to find him standing at the counter with a drink in his hand as he flashed me a big smile and a wave – aww, maybe he was excited to see me too?  He was taller than I remembered (although I knew he was pretty tall – maybe about 6′2″?), but other than that, he looked exactly the same as I remembered him – lean and fit and muscular with the long-ish hair that I used to love to run my fingers through.  His first words to me were, “Wow, you look great!”  Hahaha, thanks babe, I worked hard for that.  : )

I can’t tell you how weird but nice it was to see him again.  I mean, listen, meeting up with an ex is great, but don’t you always just wind up picturing them naked?  I swear, as I was looking at his face across from me all night, all I could think about was the image of that same face between my legs.  Is that awful or what?  Hahaha, I couldn’t help it!  I’m just a sleaze at heart, I guess.  Then again, I’ve always said that the sex with NYL was fantastic, so why shouldn’t I be reminded of his mad skillz now that we’re suddenly in the same room again?  Hahaha, oh well.

But anyway… we just kind of hung out at the bar for a few hours catching up about what we’ve both been up to in the last year and a half since we split up.  We had a few drinks and split dessert (I cheated on my WW diet – shhhh, don’t tell anyone), and despite my offer to split the bill, he paid for the whole thing, which was nice.  A coworker told me this morning that one dessert, two spoons, and him footing the bill automatically qualifies it as a date, but I’m not so sure… but more on that later.

Turns out NYL has had quite the exciting adventure in the past year or so, including some really great travel and a year-long relationship that must have ended in the last 3 months or so… which means that he had been dating this girl for pretty much the entire time since we split up.  Hmm.  I’m a little jealous of his dating success but, at the same time, I’m genuinely happy that he’s been happy.  It was weird – the conversation was really comfortable and mellow as if we were old friends and just picked up right where we left off.  Actually, the conversation was great and I thought the entire evening went really well, all things considered.  I didn’t bring up the STD situation (even though I really wanted to throw that back at him) but maybe it’s all water under the bridge at this point.  Who knows. 

So I think we both had a great time, despite the fact that the whole night was fairly platonic.  There was no touching whatsoever, other than a hug hello at the bar.  No footsie under the table, no arm touching or anything like that.  We did wind up sitting closer and closer together in a circular booth as the evening progressed, but we never got right up next to each other.  When we said goodnight, there was definitely that long awkward pause where I was waiting for him to make a move and he was trying to decide if I would be receptive, but he didn’t go in for a kiss, so we just hugged goodbye and said goodnight.  I was a little disappointed at the lack of making out but not really surprised considering the rather platonic tone of the evening.  BUT, he did say that he’d definitely like to hang out again, and I agreed, so I guess we’ll get together again one of these days?  I guess?  Not sure I see where (if anywhere) this is going, though.

One noteworthy thing about last night was that I think it was blatantly obvious to the both of us why we had started dating in the first place and also why we split up in the end.  There is definitely an underlying chemistry/attraction going on between us, and we actually get along very well, but NYL admitted that he always winds up getting bored in relationships and can never get emotionally attached to anyone, which is exactly what happened with us (and the latest girlfriend, according to his recap of events).  So what does that mean?  My take-away from the evening is that we might hang out a few times as pseudo-friends, and we might wind up hooking up at some point (after a long talk about the STD situation), but I honestly don’t think a relationship revival is in the cards, unless NYL suddenly changes his outlook completely, which is unlikely.  I just didn’t get that “I want do date you” vibe from him.  I got more of a “this is comfortable and low-key and fun, let’s do it again sometime” vibe.  Know what I mean?  And DUDE, why didn’t he kiss me?  I think that says a lot right there.

Honestly, I’d be very open to firing things back up with him, but the realist in me says that it’s just never going to work out.  So what now?  Do I just hang out with him and enjoy the casual friendship thing?  What if we hook up?  What if my old feelings for him start creeping back into the picture?  And what happens when he gets bored again?  I don’t know what to make of it.

Oh, another thing – we wound up having kind of a cute txt conversation after we both got home last night, confirming again that we should “definitely” (his word) hang out again and just making some stupid jokes about a few things we had talked about at the bar.  So, a good sign, perhaps?

As for whether last night could be classified as a “date,” I really think the jury is out.  Let’s examine the evidence, shall we?

Date-like occurrences:
- We both got dressed up
- One dessert, two spoons
- He paid for everything
- Plans to get together again soon

Non-date-like occurrences:
- No touching or kiss goodnight
- No sexual conversation at all
- Semi-platonic attitude on both ends
- Talking about other people we’ve been dating

Sooooo, what do you think?  Was that a date?  It kind of looks like date and smells like a date, but I have to admit, it didn’t really *feel* like a date.  Granted, my heart was pounding out my chest during the awkward pause when we said goodnight, but nothing happened, so what does that mean?  Ahhhh, men can be so confusing sometimes.  I still have no idea why he contacted me or what he’s hoping to get out of this, but I will say that I had a good time last night and am looking forward to seeing him again.  I’ll also reiterate that I don’t see a real relationship coming out of this (based on the vibe he was giving off last night), but I kind of hope I’m wrong, you know?  We’ll see.

If nothing else, it was nice to see a familiar face and catch up with him.  I never complain about spending a few hours in the presence of a hot, red-blooded man, especially one that I can picture naked down to the very last detail.  Mmmmmmmm… I’d love to hit that again!  But we’ll see.  One thing at a time.  : )

I’ll be sure to keep you posted on any future developments here.  I’m curious to see where it goes.

On the agenda for tomrorow: back to my sunless hole in the office, followed by a drink with New Year’s Lips and hopefully a juicy story for later this week.  : )

P.S. – Check out the poll in the sidebar on the top left – I’ve been thinking of creating an archive of selected posts from DD Version 1.0 – a gathering of my favorites – and yours.  What do you think?

Instead of copying and pasting the entire email (which kind of feels wrong, and plus, the thing was like 5 paragraphs long), I’ll share with you my favorite parts:

(1) He alleges that I need professional psychological help.  Apparently I am so screwed up and have my own crazy ridiculous superficial agenda that I went out of my way to meet this guy, openly mock him for over an hour, and enjoy every minute of it as I belittled him into oblivion.

(2) He accuses me of announcing to the entire coffee shop that he lives with his mother.  Then he adds in the caveat that a lot of people live with their parents these days and that it’s a completely normal and reasonable thing to do (which I can certainly agree with in many cases, but not his).  Then, RIGHT AFTER he says that living with his parents is nothing to be ashamed of, he insists again that it wasn’t cool of me to let everyone in the shop know about it.  Am I the only one who sees the flawed argument here?  Dude, if you’re not ashamed of living with mommy, why would you care if the complete strangers at the next table overheard me say it?  WTF?

This email has me all in a huff at the absolutely ridiculous and downright mean things he had to say about me.  My email was very civil (and short, unlike the novel he sent back), and there was no need to retaliate like this, seriously.  Oh, and get this: he said that the only reason I waited until Thursday to send my email (we had gone out on Monday) was that I was waiting to see if he liked me, and when I didn’t hear from him, I was disappointed and decided to lash out at him.  Hello??????  Geez Louise.

Ahhhhhhhhhh, this dating drama is too much for my little heart to handle!  You know how I’m too nice to people, right?  Now I genuinely feel horrible that I got him all upset and hurt his feelings.  I just hate doing that, and it was SO not my intention to get him all defensive like this.  But COME ON, those photos did NOT look like him at all!  Please!  Whatever, I’m so done with this bullshit.

I obviously won’t respond to his message (what good could possibly come of it?), so I guess this is the end of this fucked up story.  My online dating subscription ends tomorrow, and I’m definitely canceling it with no plans on renewing anytime soon.  I’ve had it.  Dating be dammed!

Now, where can I go about getting a few dozen cats?

BUT, ever since I got his completely random text on Saturday morning, I’ve had one question on my mind: what does he want?  The way I figure it, there are basically four options: (1) he wants an easy piece of ass (after all, what are exes for?) or a new fuck-buddy or something along those lines; (2) he’s bored and just wants to get back in touch; (3) he’s actually (gasp!) interested in giving our old relationship a second chance (hahahaha, even I couldn’t get through that one with a straight face!); or (4) he’s a guy and hasn’t given this nearly as much thought as I have, and just happened to see me online and sent me a random text with no predetermined purpose whatsoever.  I wonder what he envisions happening on Wednesday night when we meet to “catch up over a drink.”  I would absolutely love to get back in touch with him (after all, he *was* absolutely charming and adorable, despite the STD drama), but I’ve been trying (rather unsuccessfully) not to get my hopes up.  I think I sabotage myself in these situations by expecting too much and being disappointed when things inevitably don’t go how I had envisioned.  Ah well.

I just can’t believe I heard from him after all this time, and he was being all cute and shy and geeky in his texts, which just draws me in all over again.  And I keep thinking about our amazing first kiss and all those crazy sexcapades that we used to have (remember when he bent me over the dresser and fucked me in my dress and heels?), and I just can’t help but be a *little* excited about seeing him again… and maybe ending the night with my tongue down his throat and my hand on his ass.  So sue me!

But we’ll see.  If nothing else, this little meet-up fills up my Wednesday night and will provide an interesting story for the blog regardless of what happens.  So stay tuned for the post-meeting review at the end of the week.  At least I can guarantee that he won’t be a troll.  : )