(1) I went to Home Depot today to look at paint samples (how exciting!), and even though I was only walking around the store for a half hour or so, at least 5 or 6 employees asked me if I needed help finding something.  Note that they didn’t ask all other random people next to me if they needed help, just me.  Apparently I look really out of place at Home Depot or something.  I suppose it didn’t hurt that I was wearing a bring pink shirt and a miniskirt (not exactly a Home Depot outfit, I admit), but hello?  I’m 30 years old and can find my way to the paint section, thank-you-very-much.  One guy actually said, “You look too young to own a house.”  WTF??? 

(2) This afternoon I went furniture shopping (also very exciting!) and totally got picked up by a young furniture salesman.  Hahaha!  The best part was that – get this – the pink shirt I happened to be wearing today had my new university name slapped across the front in big letters (I’m proud, so sue me), and this guy said he was so intrigued that he just had to come over and ask me if I go to school there.  Who knew this school was a magnet for young bachelors???  : )  Awesome!!!  So I told him all about my grad program, and he was eating up every bit of it.  We probably chatted for a half hour or so, and I walked away with his cell number.  HA!

If this is a sign of things to come, this blog will be getting a lot more exciting in the next few months.  : )  Note to self: need to get a lot more of those pink t-shirts.

Yesterday I had a three-hour lunch with a friend who I hadn’t seen in a while – this guy, actually.  He also just quit his job recently, so we were both unemployed with nothing to do on a random Tuesday afternoon, and we sat and had fresh seafood and margaritas by the water on a warm, sunny day.  Niiiiiiice.  Also nice: my very married friend was as cute as ever.  Another nice thing: he got me a going-away present.  We had been talking about this book on and off for the last few months, and he did some online searching for the particular edition that he had when he was a kid, and there it was waiting for me when I showed up for lunch.  How sweet!  It was only after I got home that I noticed that he had written a little message inside the front cover, and reading his good wishes in his own handwriting in this book that he had hunted down for me was just really heartwarming.  I slept with that book on my nightstand last night.

At one point during lunch we were talking about how men and women can never really be “just friends,” and then he was like, “well, it’s different with us, because I’m married, and you have all your crazy dating stuff,” and I was like, “………… right.”  Aaaaawkward!  Hahaha.  I would never, ever do anything to disrupt a perfectly happy marriage, but I’m telling you, if this guy wasn’t married, I’d have jumped him right then and there.

Then last night I had dinner with the other DD at my place, and we talked and talked about sex and men and all sorts of juicy stuff.  I love hanging out with this girl!  Where has she been all my life?  Oh, that’s right, living right fucking down the street from me!  Ugh, how ironic that I meet her right before I’m moving away. 

Today I went to the gynecologist (how exciting!) and got my annual checkup before heading off to school.  When she asked if I wanted to be tested for STDs, I said “yes, please.”  When she asked if I was sexually active (god, I hate that phrase!), I said, “yes.”  When she asked if I was just with one partner, I said, “ummm, no.”  And then we had the same conversation that I always have with my gynecologist – i.e., the most awkward conversation ever – about how my sex life is so unpredictable and is always changing and who knows who I’ll be sleeping with next.  Then I get the infamous “look of disapproval.”  Then I’m quick to say that I never ever ever have sex without a condom and how I’m 30 years old and have never ever ever been pregnant, and the “look of disapproval” slowly melts away.  Let us not mention the infamous STD saga of 2008, which STILL puzzles me because I never ever ever have sex without a condom.  But moving right along…

I have a bunch of health-related paperwork to fill out for school, so I spent the rest of the afternoon running around trying to get signatures and make photocopies, etc.  Only 2 more doctor’s appointments to go, and then I think I’ll be all squared away.  Tonight I had a home-cooked meal for the first time in who knows how long, and I just finished doing my laundry, and now the night is quiet and peaceful and relaxing.  Ahhhhhhh.  Another deep breath.  The “Summer of DD” finally feels within reach.  : )

And now for the super-fun full-disclosure portion of this post:

Full-disclosure item #1: I really miss talking to the NMP.  Ever since the incident over Memorial Day weekend (which was the second incident in a row with him), we haven’t been speaking.  Actually, to be more specific, the NMP hasn’t been speaking to me.  I offered an olive branch via text twice, with no response from him, and then I tried calling and he didn’t pick up.  I left a nice voicemail saying that I miss talking and hope we can work this out, but he hasn’t called back.  So sad.  I just hate this!  I know I probably deserve the cold shoulder here, but it still sucks.  I’d like to resolve this at some point.

Full-disclosure item #2: I’ve been in contact with David again.  Yes, that David.  Ooooooh, how scandalous!  I see you shaking your heads in disapproval.  I know, it’s horrible.  But also?  It’s kind of fun.  Nothing has been going on, but we’ve been emailing back and forth a bit and texting occasionally, and we’ve been trying to meet up for dinner one night to catch up.  A few weeks ago I got a booty call text from him, in which he implied that he and his gf were on their way out, and although I refused to see him in that context, I don’t think I’d be opposed to meeting for an innocent dinner.  He’s so adorable, after all.  That midwestern accent and those blue eyes… hahaha.  I’m SO asking for trouble here.

I think that’s about it for tonight, although I feel like there are so many things I’m forgetting!  Hmm… what else?  I’m sure it’ll come to me at some point.  For now I’m just enjoying a nice, calm night at home in my new-found unemployed bliss.  I don’t miss my job one bit.  : )

I’m headed out to a club with the girls tonight, so at least I’ll forget about the dumpster for a while.  : )  Happy Friday, everyone!

Day 1: Cute-looking dude emails DD.  Awesome!  This guy is actually cute and sounds like a normal, intelligent person.  A glimmer of hope is born.

Day 2: DD emails cute-looking dude back with a cute, witty response.  Later that day, cute-looking dude asks if I want to chat over the phone.  Sure!

Day 3: DD sends cute-looking dude her cell number early enough in the afternoon so that he can call her that night without worrying about calling an hour after the email which is totally weird and creepy.  Later that day, cute-looking dude emails “thanks for your number.”  Wha???  Night comes and goes with no call.

Day 4: Still no call.  No word from cute-looking dude, and no offer of his number for me to call him.  Weird.

Days 5-6: Still no call.  WTF, cute-looking dude?  Did you really just sit on my number for 3 days???

Day 7: DD accepts the fact that this guy is a total douche.  She sends a quick email to cute-looking dude saying “had hoped to hear from you – oh well – best of luck,” to which he responds five minutes later with “you will.”  Again, WTF???  If you’re sitting at your computer responding to my email RIGHT NOW, why don’t you just call me, prick?  DD responds that he is too fucking late and that he should go fuck himself (but with nicer words, of course).  Done and done.

Lesson learned a long time ago and reinforced for the millionth time with this story: If a guy is interested, he’ll call.  Period.  If this guy wasn’t interested, why did he respond with “you will” [hear from me]?  I mean, seriously, what was the point of that??  Ahhhhh, stupid men.

Did I ever mention that I hate online dating?

Anyway… lately I’ve been putting a lot of mental energy into strategically avoiding New Year’s Lips – physically, electronically, and mentally.  I don’t hang out in his neighborhood anymore because I don’t want to accidentally run into him (and his girlfriend).  I don’t look at cute photos of him that I’ve swiped from his Facebook page and saved on my computer (ahem).  I definitely don’t visit his FB page and actively avoid logging in when I see that he’s posted something – I just wait a day until he falls off my news feed.  I don’t read his old emails, especially the one with the awkward girlfriend announcement.  And most of all, I don’t allow myself to think about him… well, not any more than it’s taking me to write this post, anyway.

I used to think about NYL a lot.  I used to fantasize about him, I used to pull out old memories of him when I was bored or lonely – cooking pancakes for breakfast, cuddling up by the fireplace – and I used to replay that amazing first kiss over and over in my mind because it was just THAT good.  But I’m trying to avoid all of this now, and it’s so much harder than I thought it would be.

But… I think actually thinking about him would be even harder – replaying all those memories and knowing that he’s “in a relationship” (god, I fucking HATE Facebook!) with someone else.  And she’s cute, even.  I see them smiling in photos on FB, which is why I don’t go on there very much anymore.  I don’t want to torture myself with that, so I’m trying very, very hard to just get him out of my mind completely.  You can tell how well it’s working because I’m writing this huge post about him – ha.

I think the main problem is that NYL is just so good in so many ways, and it drives me crazy to be searching for someone else when such a great catch is sitting right in front of me.  I’m insanely attracted to him, and he’s the perfect combination of genuine, honest, geeky, smart, funny, outgoing but awkward, and – of course – absolutely phenomenal in bed.  I hope this girl knows how lucky she is!

Of course, the big flaw is that he doesn’t feel the same way about me, and I can accept that, but it doesn’t make it any easier to get him out of my head.  I suppose the other draw to him these days is that you always want what you can’t have, and I definitely can’t have him.  That was made very clear to me after I totally embarrassed myself a few weeks ago.  So, here I am, trying to avoid all thoughts and images of him, FB updates, emails, etc., all the while thinking that I would never have been in this mess if he had never contacted me out of the blue last summer in the first place.  But oh, then I wouldn’t have had those great nights with him… and I really loved those nights.  Irony, what a pain in the ass.  : )

So that’s the story for now – it hurts and it sucks, and although I’m happy that he’s happy, I’m actually pretty sad about the whole thing.  I know I should just get over it, let it go, move on, blah blah blah.  I know.  But right now it hurts, and telling myself to get over it is not going to change anything.  So for now I’m avoiding him to try to make it hurt less, and it works a little, except when I accidentally stumble upon him when I wasn’t expecting to, and then it hurts all over again. 

Oh NYL, sometimes I wish I never met you.

Part 1: The European seals his fate

Oh, how I hate this part.

I went over to the European’s apartment on Friday night for our third (and final) date.  It turns out that his “surprise” movie-related plans were actually pretty cool, but unfortunately we had a technological problem and wound up chilling out in his apartment instead.  I got the grand tour of his place (very nice, by the way – this guy must be doing pretty well), we had sushi for dinner that he had picked up at the Japanese market (yum), and we wound up watching Australia on his couch (decent movie, not great, but at least it starred my husband… err, Hugh Jackman).  : )  The night actually went pretty well, just like the previous two times I had gone out with him.  Despite the “no spark” thing, it’s funny how good of a time I was having with him. 

Anyway, as the movie was playing (all 2.5 hours of it), we gradually went from sitting next to each other on the couch with a few inches between us to cuddled up under a blanket with our arms and legs intertwined.  It was cute… but I still wasn’t feelin’ it.  It was extremely – painfully – obvious that he was trying to kiss me, and it was extremely obvious that I was avoiding it.  I mean, honestly, it was really nice to be cuddled up to a warm body, but I guess I’m just not attracted to him in a romantic/sexual way because, had I been really into him, I would have had my tongue down his throat 5 minutes into the movie, you know? 

So finally the movie ends, and we’re sitting there in the dark under the blanket, and I decided to just go for it and kiss him, if for no other reason than to once and for all convince myself that there was nothing there to save.  So I kissed him, and we wound up making out for a few minutes, and… nothing.  I knew it was over, not that it had ever really begun.  Honestly, he wasn’t even that great of a kisser.  Not bad, granted, but not great.  I guess he was really into it, though, because I could feel his cock pressing into me and he started insisting that I spend the night. 

Ummm… no.

And like I said in my last post, he started putting up a fight.  It was SO uncomfortable.  For a minute there I was even a little nervous that he physically wasn’t going to let me leave.  When I got up off the couch, grabbed my coat, and started making my way to the door, he quickly intercepted me, grabbed my arms, and physically blocked my path.  Now, as a woman, I am trained to go into panic mode in this type of situation.  My expression immediately changed and I said in a very serious tone, “Are you going to let me out of here or what?”  And he finally did, but not after holding onto my arms for another few seconds (which felt like hours).  Geez, how crazy what that shit???

This morning we had a conversation and I told him that I think we should stop seeing each other, and that was that.  It was short and sweet.  Done and done.

Conclusions from my brief interactions with the European:  (1) Up until he blocked me from leaving his apartment, he was a genuinely nice guy who I actually enjoyed spending time with.  Too bad it didn’t last.  (2) This was the first guy in probably a solid three years who showed a genuine interest in me.  I had totally forgotten what that felt like, and it was kind of nice.  Very nice, actually.  It reminded me just exactly what I’m missing by having not had a real relationship in a while.  Bummer.  (3) It was really, really nice to cuddle up to a warm body.  Again, I had forgotten what I was missing there.  (4) I figured out why I wasn’t into this guy – he wasn’t masculine enough.  Case in point: while we were on his couch on Friday night, each move that he made had this unspoken “asking me for permission” nature to it, which was really unattractive.  I need a guy who will be a fucking MAN, and the European was just too lovey-dovey and too hesitant and too… I don’t know… weak?  Something like that?  Anyway, it was a total turn-off.  Oh well.

Part 2: The NMP fucks me like a man

Just as I’m coming off my date with the European and in need of a big strong man to take charge and give me the good, solid fuck that I’d been waiting for… the NMP sweeps in and takes care of business.  Not exactly what the NMP is known for, but this time he really pulled out all the stops and gave me exactly what I wanted.  Oh baby.  : )

It was good to see him again, considering that up until a few weeks ago, I hadn’t seen him for two years.  We went out for dinner and drinks at one of my favorite bar/pub joints (really good burgers, BTW), and the NMP ordered his typical gin and tonic while I scarfed down an amazing burger with swiss cheese and mushrooms.  YUM YUM.  And the burger was good too.  : )  We had blatantly talked about hooking up in our phone conversations leading up to Saturday night, so there was no beating around the bush with what we had met up for.  We talked about our upcoming sex-fest all during dinner, which was great because it just amped up the already super-high anticipation.  The adrenaline wasn’t the only thing flowing during dinner.

Back at my place, I busted out a fantastic bottle of wine that we lavishly sipped in perfect mood lighting in my living room.  My belly was fully of good burger and great wine, and things were getting a little fuzzy around the edges, and I before I knew it I had grabbed his hand and was leading him to my bedroom.  Now, my usual complaint about hooking up with the NMP is that he’s a little selfish and likes to just lie back and let me do all the work, and I usually don’t get all the things I want out of him.  But this time I was just SO dying for a solid fuck that I absolutely demanded that I get exactly what I wanted, and what do you know?  I got it all.

Here’s what I did: We all know that 99% of the reason that the NMP drove allllll the way to my place was because he wanted a blowjob.  For some reason, this guy is absolutely in love with the way I give head, and he blatantly tells me over the phone how much he wants it and how he jerks off to his memories of it all the time.  His eyes light up at the mere mention of it.  So I said that I would be more than happy to suck him off into oblivion… IF he earned it.  So I made it a point to keep teasing him, to keep giving him a little taste of it, while in the meantime making sure that I got my fill of everything that I wanted first.

First things first: I wanted him to push me down on my bed – hard.  So I stood there and told him to do it, and he did.  (This was such a power trip, by the way.  Such a turn-on.)  Then I told him that I wanted him to fuck me – hard.  And he did.  Then I told him that I wanted his head between my legs – and he did it.  And so on, and so forth, for about two hours or so.  All the while I would tease his cock with my tongue – just a little bit at a time – to remind him of exactly what he’d be getting if he made sure I was completely satisfied.  And because he was such a good boy and really fucked my brains out, I gave him a five-star cocksucking that he’ll probably be jerking off to until the next time we hook up.  So all in all, I think it’s safe to say that we both came out of that night totally sexually satisfied and completely exhausted and happy.  Not bad, not bad at all.  : )

A few notes on the long-awaited and much-anticipated blowjob:  (1) I absolutely LOVED doing it.  Loved it!!  I think I loved it almost as much as he did, which is saying a lot.  In fact, I enjoyed myself so much (and enjoyed seeing how much HE enjoyed it), that I threw in a second one just for fun.  (2) He came like a fucking volcano.  It was awesome.  (3) After it was over, I made him tell me exactly how much he loved it and exactly how good I was – again, this was a total power trip, and I was really eating it up.  (4) He had completely shaved his junk for this, which is something that I don’t think I’ve ever seen before.  Most guys do some kind of landscaping down there (which is very much appreciated, BTW), but the NMP was smooth as a baby’s butt… and surprisingly, I loved it.  Who knew I’d be into that?  Everything was just so open and available, and it’s a lot easier to suck on a guy’s junk when it’s all clean and smooth and fresh.  Mmmmmm… absolutely delicious.  Loved it.

Anyway, it was a great night, and today I’m walking around pretty slowly and sore in all the right places.  The sex-fest with the NMP was exactly what I needed, and I got everything that I wanted out of it, and it just couldn’t have worked out any better.  Good boy, NMP.  : )

Part 3: I dig out my tennis racket for the first time since last summer

A few friends and I resurrected our scrappy little tennis league this weekend – yay!  It was GREAT to get back on the courts again, and I had a ton of fun (and even got my first sunburn of the season), but man, I am SORE tonight.  As in, every muscle in my body is aching.  It didn’t help that I also went running quite a bit this weekend, so between the tennis, the running, and the sex last night, I am a total pile of mush right now.  A happy pile of mush, but mush nonetheless.  : )

Well, I think that about covers it.  I know I said that I would try to keep this short, but that didn’t quite work out, did it?  I guess there was a lot to say.  So I’m back to square one on the dating front, but at least I got my sexual cravings satisfied and got a little exercise in the great outdoors to boot.  All in all, not a bad weekend.  I’m going to sleep well tonight.  : )

In other news, I got a semi-confirmation from the grad school office yesterday that they received my acceptance paperwork, so that was exciting.  I’m still totally psyched about this whole thing and can’t wait to get started already.  : )  Happy Friday!

Edited to add: It’s a little after midnight, and I am finally home (i.e., not in the European’s bed, although he certainly put up quite a fight to get me in there).  It was… totally uncomfortable.  So glad to be home.

It was like a blackout or something – no spark, no electricity, no nothing.  No oh-my-god-I-WANT-you feeling, no fantasizing about slamming this guy down on my bed, no leaning in for a kiss at the end of the night.  I am SO disappointed because I really can’t say anything negative about this guy at all.  He checks all my boxes, he’s funny and fun to hang out with, he’s cute, and he’s actually interested in me of all things.  I want to feel something, but I just don’t.  And you can’t force these things – it just doesn’t work like that.  Bummer.  So much for my exotic European adventure.

But now comes the hard part – telling him.  He wrote me this big email last night after he got home saying what a great time he had and making all sorts of tentative plans for this weekend, and I haven’t responded yet (almost 24 hours later), and that email has just been fermenting in my inbox waiting for me to figure out what to do with it.  For one thing, I’m not doing this over email.  He deserves a human response, so I’ll give him a call - probably tomorrow.  Ugh.  I’m dreading it, mostly because he is such a nice guy and I feel so awful letting him down.  The ironic part is that I’m never on this side of the fence – it’s always the opposite situation, where I like a guy more than he likes me, and I’m the one getting rudely ditched.  At least my experience has taught me not to rudely ditch this guy and at least treat him with a little respect.  But it still sucks.

It was so weird – at the end of the night he put his arm around me and started setting up a goodnight kiss, and I was SO not into it that I started talking and talking and making these big gestures with my hands and somehow managed to extricate myself from the situation.  How awful, right?  It totally sucked.  I walked away with a sinking feeling in my stomach and started wondering what the hell to do about it.  But the worst part was that I actually had a great time with him last night.  We talked and talked, took a nice walk in the park, and went out for a great dinner.  I was cracking up the whole time.  This totally sucks.  Why don’t I feel anything???

In stark contrast, remember this guy who I mentioned a few weeks ago (i.e., my married-with-kids male friend who is totally fucking hot)?  I was chatting with him recently, and while he was trying to make a point about something, he tapped my foot with his foot in a playful kind of way, and as soon as his foot touched mine I felt this huge rush of electricity throughout my entire body, so much so that I don’t even remember the next couple of sentences that came out of his mouth.  Instant spark, instant oh-my-god-I-want-you, instant red face and feeling flushed.  So like I said, it’s either there or it’s not.  And sadly, with the European, it’s definitely not.

Anyway, about the voicemails from the NMP and David last night… while David can go screw himself, I did wind up calling the NMP back tonight, and due to my frustration with the European situation and my ridiculous level of horniness, we arranged a little fuck-buddy rendezvous for this Saturday night.  I know this is a huge mistake, but I fucking don’t care anymore.  I need to get laid, and I feel comfortable with the NMP, so that is that.  Plus he wants to buy me a drink to celebrate my grad school decision, so it should be a fun night.  Huge beautiful cock, here I come.  OH BABY.  : )

Also: While I was out I got three – yes THREE – voicemails, which is three more than I usually get on a random Tuesday night.  All from sordid men, in fact.  Two from the new male prospect and one from – are you ready for this?  – David.  Yes, that David.  My life is just so ridiculous that sometimes I just can’t believe it’s really happening.  Again, details tomorrow.  Again, I have mixed feelings. 

Ugh.

He called me this afternoon, and we set something up for this Tuesday night after work.  We actually had a decent conversation and chatted for a while, although I have to admit that sometimes I couldn’t understand what the hell he was saying.  I blame 50% on my crappy low-end phone (I can never hear anyone very clearly) and 50% on my ghetto American unfamiliarity with European accents.  After a while I felt bad saying “What??” and just started letting things go.  I think I got about 95%, which I’d say is pretty good for deciphering an accent that I’ve never dealt with before.  Considering my dating drought these days, the European has me intrigued and a little excited, and the fact that he’s a bit older than me makes me feel like I’m being a bad girl or something.  We’ll see how it goes on Tuesday.

In other news, the NMP and I are supposed to hang out this coming Saturday night, although who knows if that will actually happen or not, considering how sensitive and flaky the NMP can be about these things.  I know this is a horrible idea (I know!), but hey, I’m not perfect.  We’ve established this.  I also think I’m about 75% of the way there in convincing him to come to a club with me so I can grind up against him and get my dancing fix that I’ve been craving lately.  So we’ll see.  Let us also recall that the NMP has a magnificent package, and what red-blooded woman wouldn’t want a look at that?  (I can see your eyes rolling as you read this…)

Finally, I found out (via a very embarrassing email that I never should have sent) that NYL is officially dating that girl who he met a few months ago, and I really need to put his email address under lock and key until further notice.  Too bad, because we all know what a hot piece of ass this guy is and how absolutely amazing he is in bed and how adorable and cute he is and how our babies would be so beautiful…. ahem.  So no more NYL for me.  *pout*

Hmmm… anyone else?  I had an absolutely disastrous phone call yesterday with another online dude who I will NOT be meeting in person.  We had been talking for about five minutes when he started telling me about all the advice he’s getting from his therapist about “all of his problems.”  Geez, dude, I have nothing against therapy, but do I really need to know your deep dark issues after I’ve known you for five minutes?  FAIL. 

I guess that’s about it!  Anyone have any experience kissing European guys/girls?  I’m kind of worried that if I wind up making out with this guy on Tuesday that I’ll encounter some kind of foreign tongue technique or something.  Am I crazy or is there a difference over there?

So, going into this date, I knew that this guy was a fairly recent European transplant, which made him seem pretty exotic and interesting and kind of mysterious in a good way.  Hmm.  I wasn’t entirely convinced, though, but I figured that he hadn’t scared me away over the phone and I could use a fun night out, so we decided to meet up on Thursday night for a drink.  He suggested this super swanky rooftop bar in a super swanky hotel that I probably would never have found if I lived in New York for 50 years, so I got all dressed up in my little black dress and four-inch heels and was ready for an interesting (and hopefully good) night out on the town.

We decided to meet in the lobby of a bookstore near the hotel and then walk over.  To my great disappointment, I got there first.  I HATE being there first!  Ahhh!  I purposefully arrive about 5 minutes late to these types of things so that he’s already there when I arrive and I don’t have to go through that agonizing wait, looking in all directions but trying not to, wondering which direction he’ll be coming from and hoping he doesn’t catch me from a bad angle or something.  It’s all so ridiculous, I know, but I just so prefer getting there second.  Ahhhh, so I’m standing there half-reading a book, half-scoping out the place looking for this guy, and even though I was 5 minutes late, he was about 5 minutes later.  Geez, dude!  Don’t you know the guy is supposed to arrive first??? 

Anyway, I knew it was him as soon as he walked in, and we had that SUPER obvious “Hmm, is that you?” kind of moment in a very crowded bookstore with all sorts of people witnessing this event.  How embarassing!  Anyone within 10 feet or so knew that we had met online, and I wanted to just crawl under a rock and die.  Know that feeling?  Ahhh!  But it was kind of ok because this guy looked better in person than in his photos, and I was actually pleasantly surprised.  Not bad, dude.  Not bad at all.  Surprisingly, he was actually kind of my type – tall and lean with glasses and that receding hairline that, for some reason, I always find kind of sexy.  So, no complaints there.

So we walk over to the hotel, take the elevator alllllllllllll the way up to the top floor, and arrive at what I can only describe as a bar that would be the perfect place to have an affair.  It was super swanky (as expected) and very dark with all these little corner spaces to disappear into, and it was filled with very adult couples talking in very low voices drinking what looked like very expensive drinks.  It was all very stockings and martinis.  I’m pretty sure I was the youngest person there, except for maybe the hostess.  It was probably the most grown-up date I’ve ever had, and I was really digging it.  I also gave myself a pat on the back for dressing totally appropriately and fitting right in.  Score.  And also: whoa.  Did I just step back into 1986 or something?  I half-expected Sharon Stone to show up in one of those dark little corners or something.  So weird.

After walking around for a bit and taking in the incredible view of the city, the European buys me a drink, and we settle into one of the dark little corners to chat.  First of all, let me just say that I looked fabulous, and this guy was a good dresser (I guess not surprising for a European, right?  Is that a huge stereotype or what?).  So we’re sitting there chatting, drinking our drinks (god only knows what he paid for them), and it turns out that this guy is actually pretty interesting, very well educated, very well traveled, and kind of a light-hearted, jovial, loving-life type of guy.  Not bad for dumpster diving, right?  I have to admit, I was having a good time with him.  It was all so grown-up.  There was no sketchiness or frat boy stories.  Very classy.  It was a breath of fresh air.

We talked and talked for a few hours, and I got a kick out of it when he would say things in other  languages (super sexy, by the way), and I “accidentally” touched his foot with my heel at one point, and I accidentally (for real this time) touched his knee when I was making some kind of grand gesture talking about bugs or something.  Ha, I’m such a dork, right?  : )  No joke, we talked about bugs for like 10 minutes.  What the hell is wrong with me??  At least he brought it up, but apparently I had a lot of bug stories to fuel the fire.  Dude, this is why I’m still single.  Hahaha.

Anyway, as we were walking out of the hotel at the end of the night, he said something like “Well, this worked out pretty well, huh?”  Yeah, actually, it did.  So we agreed to get together again, and I gave him my standard first-date hug goodnight (I still don’t like kissing guys on the first date – go figure), and that was that.  Not bad!  I had an email from him when I got back to my apartment saying that he had a great time, so I guess I didn’t make a complete ass out of myself with all my bug stories, ha.  (Note to guys: If a girl likes you, emailing/texting immediately after a date is actually kind of cute.  If she doesn’t like you, it’s totally creepy.  Use your judgment.)

Bottom line: I had a fun night out at this swanky bar with this swanky European guy who bought me a fancy drink and opened all the doors for me.  He was cute, interesting, polite, and actually pretty funny, and the accent was super sexy.  I wasn’t head-over-heels crazy about him in that oh-my-god-I-want-you-NOW kind of way, but I had a good enough time and found him interesting enough that I’ll definitely go out with him again.  If nothing else, maybe he can be my tour guide to all the swanky hidden bars in the city.  : )

P.S. – Many of you will be happy to know that, for probably the first time ever, I did NOT offer to pay for my drink.  I thought it was about time.

1.  I had the most awesome yogurt for breakfast this morning – Siggi’s Icelandic style skyr.  This is the yogurt I’ve been looking for my entire life and have finally found.  Oh Siggi’s, where have you been all my life?  Can I marry you and have all your deliciously tangy babies?  Can I swim in a sea of skyr with nothing but an open mouth and a tip-top digestive system to guide me?  Seriously people, if you’re into yogurt, do yourself a favor and try this stuff.  It’s a little pricey (about $2.50 each; I only bought one cup), but totally worth it.  I am henceforth starting a yogurt savings account to support my new, glorious, skyr-slurping habit.  Ahem.

2.  I made a homemade apple pie for a breakfast thing at work this morning and took a big piece of cinnamon-appley goodness all for myself.  Mmmmm.  There aren’t many things in life that are better than a warm, gooey, homemade apple pie (although Siggi’s is one of them), and I thoroughly enjoyed every bite.

(Notice how all my good stuff today is about food?  You can see where my priorities are.)   : )

3.  In a bit of SHOCKING news, someone actually hit the “no thanks” button today!  As the guys from “tech & talk” would say: sweet holy moly!!!  I just about fell out of my chair when this happened, and how ironic that after being on the online dating scene on-and-off for a few years, this *finally* happens just days after writing that post.  How funny!  I am so proud of that guy, whoever he is, and I feel so *respected* that he actually took the 2 seconds (literally, you just have to click a button) to politely reply to my email.  Now really, was that so hard???  Thank you, anonymous guy.  You have renewed my confidence in humankind.

Plus I got out of work today at 4:30 and it was freaking gorgeous out.  All in all, a very good day.  : )

But instead of dwelling on these pathetic statistics tonight, let’s just accept the facts and move on.  If the guys I’m interested in are clearly not interested in me, what’s left?  That’s right – I have my pick of all the glorious trolls who email me.  Lucky me!  Oh, try not to be too jealous, my dears.  Some of them actually resemble human beings!  And a few (albeit very few) can actually spell!  Wow.  Be still my lonely heart.  So let’s take a look at what’s on the menu tonight, shall we? 

- Guys with no photos.  Let me state this once and for the official record: you absolutely cannot be a legitimate contender in the online dating world without a photo.  Period.  End of story.  If you contact me with no photo, I will not take you seriously.  The end.

- Old guys.  As I’ve mentioned before, I seem to be a magnet for crusty old men.  Especially ones who use the terms “baby” and “lady.”  Ewwwwwww.  Anyone ten years older than me is automatically out.  Period.

- Completely illiterate guys.  Now listen, if you’re going to insist on trying to find a date using a written profile (with photos, of course!) and written emails, this kinda sorta requires that you know how to read and write.  Actually, you might be able to hide a little bit of your illiteracy if you hit the spell check button, but this requires a functional brain and a little hand-eye coordination, and really, a lot of times this is just too much to ask.  Sigh.  Oh, and please, please don’t use “u” instead of “you.”  Seriously.  If your email were appearing as a text message on my glittery pink Jonas Brothers phone, a little “u” here and there might be acceptable.  But last time I checked, my phone isn’t pink and emails written by adults do not contain “u.”

- And finally (and I know I’m going to take a lot of crap for this one), fat guys.  I’m sorry, but I am SO not attracted to fat men.  If you don’t have the desire to take care of your body, why in the world would I ever want to touch that?  Seriously???  To be perfectly rude and blunt: fucking lose some weight before putting yourself out there.  God.  Or, find a chick who’s into fat guys.  But sorry, that chick is NOT me.

So instead of all the decent-looking guys my age who can actually write a coherent sentence (who are apparently way out of my league, based on my dismal response rate), I’m left to choose between the old, illiterate, fat, and photo-less.  Needless to say, I’ve been writing a bunch of “no thanks” replies lately.  Note that I’m not asking for anything here that I don’t have myself – I’m not illiterate, fat, or photo-less, and since I’m targeting guys my own age, I’m not too old either.  It’s just that, apparently, my appearance relegates me to the very bottom of the dumpster, only acceptable to the crusty old men and the other hopeless cases.

But alas, I am determined to persevere.  Perhaps with enough weeding I’ll stumble upon someone halfway decent whose eyes can stand to look at me for at least a few seconds at a time.  Perhaps, but I’m not holding my breath. 

This is so fucking depressing!  Ugh.

But… apparently I’m one of very few people who do this.  In my own personal online dating experience (and I can only speak from what I’ve seen – I have no idea about other people’s experiences), guys are flabbergasted to get my “no thanks” reply, as if I just committed an insanely selfless act worthy of a gold star or something.  I’m glad that people appreciate my politeness, but really, we should NOT be so floored by such a small act.  I’m really appalled that we’ve become so accustomed to sending emails into the online dating black hole that we actually expect not to hear anything back.  What a sad state of affairs this has become! 

In my own experience of sending out countless emails over the years, I don’t recall ever receiving a “no thanks” email from anyone.  I can’t say flat-out that I’ve never received one, but I can’t think of any off the top of my head, and I think I would remember something like that.  I mean, honestly, do these guys receive that many emails that they don’t have 30 seconds to say “no thanks?”  Considering that I purposely go for the geeky/nerdy guys, I just can’t imagine that that’s true.  Are they just terrified of confrontation, even via an anonymous email?  Are they so repulsed by me that even the act of hitting “reply” might give them cooties or something?  Seriously, people!  Sack up and treat me with a little respect.

What’s really interesting about this whole thing is that I almost always get another reply to my “no thanks” email saying how thoughtful it was of me to reply and wishing me luck, etc.  I suppose this could partly be one last ditch effort at starting something up on their part, but mostly it just signifies to me that (a) lack of reply is ubiquitous and almost expected, which is a shame, and (2) the people behind anonymous dating profiles can actually turn out to be polite, respectful adults when treated with a little respect in the first place.  Ahhh, let’s all breathe in the fresh air of a civilized society, shall we?

So that’s my gripe for the night.  It bugs me when guys don’t reply, even if just to say “no thanks,” and it bugs me that guys are so shocked when I take 30 seconds to send them a “no thanks” message.  This should not be a shocking occurrence, seriously people. 

So… dare I ask?  When was the last time you sent a “no thanks” reply to someone who contacted you, huh???

What’s unfortunate is that, in the world of online dating, it’s all about the face.  Don’t deny it – we all do it.  I admit it – I totally judge guys on their faces!  If I’m not attracted to the headshot, I won’t even bother to click on their profile.  I won’t.  I admit it.  And you know what?  That’s unfortunate.  What’s also unfortunate is that I have one of those faces that doesn’t get many clicks.  It doesn’t matter what I write in my profile – no one reads it.  It doesn’t matter if I like dogs or cats or like to play tennis in my spare time or wrote some witty little comment that is actually pretty funny if you get down that far.  It doesn’t matter – because no one gets down that far.  It doesn’t matter if I starve myself to get a smokin’ hot body so that I’ll look amazing when we meet for coffee, because we’ll never meet for coffee, and you’ll never find out how great I look in a pair of jeans.  One look at my unfortunate face, and I’m instantly dismissed.  It’s unfortunate.

I’ve noticed over my last few rounds of online dating that my email (and “wink”) return rate is zero.  Not close to zero, but actually zero.  As in, I could write 50 emails, and I’ll get zero back.  These guys are looking at my headshot and hitting delete.  I see them looking at me on that dreaded “who’s viewed me” page, so I know they got my message, but I’ll never hear from any of them.  My messages are short enough and friendly enough, but it doesn’t matter.  I could tell them that I just got back from a Playboy photoshoot, but they’ll never know because they don’t read my messages.  One look at the face – that’s all it takes.

Don’t get me wrong – I do indeed attract some guys: the guys who are old enough to be my father.  For some reason, they don’t mind the unfortunate face as much.  Too bad, because I mind the fact that they’re old and crusty.  Ironic, isn’t it?

It’s unfortunate that online dating is all about the face.  It’s unfortunate that I have a big Jewish/German/Russian/Egyptian nose.  It’s unfortunate that my headshot is always dismissed.  It’s really unfortunate that I’m actually a great catch once you get past the face, and it’s unfortunate that no one will ever figure that out.  Online dating is an unfortunate black hole in which nothing matters except a pretty face, and for those of us lacking in this essential ingredient, the outcome is rather… unfortunate.

Le sigh.  I hate online dating.

As NYL and I were cooking a big pot of curry last night, chopping and stirring and “accidentally” bumping into each other in the kitchen, I was warm.

As we cuddled up on the couch to eat dinner, watch the new episode of LOST, and watch the episode of Jerry Springer in which NYL was in the audience and made the funniest/most inappropriate comment ever, I was warm.

As he put his arm around me, kissed me, and pulled me in, I was warm.

As we found ourselves buried under the covers, naked, intertwined, and devouring each other, I was warm.  And as NYL pushed me down on the bed, smacked my ass, and pounded into me like a fucking MAN, I was warm.  (Actually, I was *really* warm here.)

As we soaked in the hot tub, magically protected from the outdoor chill, I was warm.  And as I rested up against NYL and let the stress of the week melt away in the hot, bubbly water, I was so incredibly nice and warm.

As we found ourselves back in bed, hot and sweaty and playful and intense all over again, I was really, really warm.

And finally, as we curled up in bed, tired and content, my forehead resting against his, our legs tangled up together, his arm around me pressing my body into his, I was warm.  And as his cats curled up next to us, their furry little bodies radiating heat on a cold winter night, I was warm.  And as I fell asleep, buried under his huge comforter, cuddled up against him, listening to the purring of the cats, I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so wonderfully warm.

There is something to be said for being warm.  It’s comforting and reassuring, peaceful and secure.  It’s a magical barrier against the chill outside, the falling snow, the harsh wind.  There is something to be said for the warmth of another human being.  It’s so much more natural than being alone – I think people were meant to be together, if only to share the comfort of the warmth that another person can offer – physically, emotionally, spiritually. 

There is something to be said for being warm.  And last night, I was so, so warm.  : )

1.  Grad school campus visits!  Yes, my dears, you read that right.  Pasty white DD is heading off to sunny CA to soak up the sunshine and meet with fellow dorks.  To be fair, I’m also planning a trip here in the northeast.  It just so happens that my warm weather and cold weather trips will be back-to-back, which will be pretty tiring but hopefully well worth it.  The trips are taking place in early March, so this week I’m busy booking airfare and hotels and making arrangements with professors, etc.  If all goes according to plan, I’ll have at least one more trip in the works, potentially in April.  Can’t wait to touch down in CA and bust out my short-sleeved blouses!

2.  NYL and I are cooking dinner together after work tomorrow night.  How freaking cute is this??  We had originally planned to catch a movie, but somehow it turned into cooking dinner at his place.  The choice of what to make is up to me, so I picked up a few ingredients after work today to whip up something that looks really delish in my low-fat vegetarian cookbook (which is saying a lot, all things considered).  I hate to admit it (because we all know this thing with NYL isn’t going anywhere), but I’m totally looking forward to this cooking thing and think it’ll be a lot of fun.  Also, long-time readers may recall that NYL has a hot tub.  What are the chances that my sweet little ass will be soaking in that tub by the end of the night, hmmmm???  : )

All good things ahead, which is what I like to hear.  In fact, I may even have a minute or two to breathe at work tomorrow.  Now wouldn’t *that* be nice.  Phew.

Awesome thing #1: My unofficial acceptance to grad school #1 is now OFFICIAL.  Just received word from the professor this afternoon.  And get this!  My acceptance comes with a full university fellowship (awesome!), a spot in this professor’s exactly-the-type-of-work-I-want-to-do research group (awesome!), and an invitation to visit in March with all travel expenses taken care of (awesome!).  I mean, seriously, how much more awesome can this possibly get?????  I am FLOORED by this news and am so completely humbled to have been officially offered at spot in this professor’s group.  I mean, damn, this is pure craziness.  What’s next, winning lotto numbers??  : )

Awesome thing #2: Got an email from NYL earlier today asking me out to the movies.  Aww, how cute.  : )  I have to admit, I’m getting the warm-fuzzies for NYL all over again.  He told me that after we hung out last weekend, he was walking around with a big smile on his face all day.  I mean, hello?  Cuteness, right???  Oh dear lord… somebody slap be back into reality!

Awesome thing #3: I had some killer sushi for dinner.  No better way to end a great day than with some great food, right?  YUM. 

I’m off to continue my happy dance around my apartment!  I already called my mom!  We are all super excited!  I can’t seem to adequately convey how exciting this, even by using a ton of exclamation points!!!!!!!!!  Hahahaha.

I told him that we were NOT going to be hooking up anymore, period.  Things are too complicated in my head, and I’m trying to rid my life of senseless drama and focus on moving forward (school, moving, etc.).  [For those keeping track, the last time I even saw the NMP -- and the last time we hooked up -- was June 2008 when we had that oral sex extravaganza (old blog, no link).  Remember that?  Hello - that was like a million years ago!]  Now that he’s suddenly single again, he’s fixated on getting one of those famous DD blowjobs that he used to go crazy for, and he just won’t let up.

And get this: Since I actually value his friendship (he was the ONLY person I talked to about the STD during all those awful months), I really would like to meet him for lunch and catch up in person one of these days.  You know, like normal human beings.  Like adults.  But he actually REFUSES to meet me because, according to him, he couldn’t control himself and would wind up sticking his hand down my pants in the middle of the restaurant.  WTF????????  Last time I checked, this guy was 32 years old, not 15.  This is not only extremely annoying (grow up already) and extremely frustrating (why can’t I meet a friend for lunch, damn it?), but I’m genuinely offended that he is being such a baby about this and will NOT have lunch with me like a normal person. 

It got to the point where this was really bothering me for a few days, and I called him and laid it all out on the table: either grow up and meet me during the day, or leave me the hell alone.  After a long and quite ridiculous conversation, it was clear that we weren’t getting anywhere.  I told him that I was going to give up and leave the ball in his court.  IF he ever grows up, I would still like to have lunch one day, but it’s up to him to make that decision.  I’m throwing my hands up in the air on this one.

This is kind of upsetting to me, to be perfectly honest.  But he’s being such a douchebag, and there is obviously nothing I can do to force him to be an adult.

One interesting thing that came up during our last conversation (I think it was Tuesday night): He mentioned that he was disappointed that I had essentially “rejected him.”  Ha!  HA HA HA!  I rejected him?  Really???  I very bluntly reminded him that, way back in the day when we actually attempted to date each other, he was the only who harshly rejected me.  (What I didn’t tell him was that it hurt like hell and I still carry these sad little lingering feelings for him.)  So he says, “What, is this payback or something?”  No, it’s not, but I just wanted to point out that the shoe is on the other foot now, and one of us took our rejection like an adult, and the other one is taking it like an absolute toddler.  How fucking ironic, seriously.

Anyway, that’s the story.  I don’t know what happens now.  Do I temporarily lose my friend/confidant (as fucked up as our relationship may be) until he grows a pair and can restrain himself?  Should I just give up on him for good?  Oh, I probably should, but despite everything,  he’s actually been a good friend to me over the years.  He listens when I need to talk, and I’ve done the same for him.  Life is complicated sometimes.  In this case, it’s completely ridiculous.

To all douchebags out there, I say unto you: sack up and be a fucking MAN already.  Give me a fucking break.

As I touched on earlier in the week, I essentially got an unofficial acceptance to grad school on Tuesday.  This is very exciting not only because I feel like this going-back-to-school thing is going to actually work out now, but because this school was the hardest one to get into (out of the 4 schools that I applied to) and represents an opportunity with a professor that I have been drooling over for a while now.  In essence, I am still flipping out over this and have let out more than my fair share of screams and happy dances.  It’s been completely unreal.  Out of all the craziness that went down this week, this was by far the best.  : )

Throughout all this school excitement, work has been crazy all week.  I worked late almost every night and even had to drive out to middle-of-nowhere New Jersey on Thursday and Friday.  I’ve gone out to NJ for work before, and it’s usually not a big deal (just have to get up a little earlier in the morning), but Thursday morning we had a bit of a snowstorm and the roads were absolutely horrible.  There was no salt, no sand, and no plowing.  People were sliding all over the place.  I witnessed a bunch of accidents and almost got into one myself.  Finally, after I was sufficiently terrified, I decided to turn around and come back to New York, figuring that if I had to be on the road and stuck in horrible traffic, at least I wanted to be heading back in the right direction.  I’ve lived in the northeast my entire life and know how to drive in the snow, but the situation on Thursday morning was pretty ridiculous.  As if I didn’t have enough work-related stress this week!

So I get back to my office on Thursday and am having a crazy hectic afternoon, when all of a sudden a fucking atomic bomb goes off in my inbox.  This was the worst possible timing, I swear.  The email was from…. are you ready for this?… the five-year BF. 

… Let us all take a minute to let that sink in …

Yes, the five-year BF who I contacted last spring in a completely delusional attempt to start something up again.  The five-year BF who I will always, always have feelings for because, honestly, he was the first (and only) man I’ve ever truly loved.  The five-year BF who, as I had found out earlier in the week via Facebook, is now engaged to someone else.  Yeah.  I know.  How random that I had stumbled upon him on Facebook on Tues or Wed, and now on Thursday an email from him is burning a hole in my inbox.  WTF, universe???  (God, I hate Facebook.)

I was actually ok with finding out that he’s engaged.  Surprisingly ok, actually.  We haven’t been in touch, and we broke up over 4 years ago at this point, and I can honestly say that I’m happy for him.  He’s a good guy and I truly want the best for him.  Of course it stung a bit, but overall I was handling it very well.  But then… that email.  He gave me his cell number and wants me to call him so we can “catch up.”  What, he wants to tell me that he’s getting married?  Do I really want to hear it coming from that all-too-familiar voice?  Ugh, I don’t know if I can handle talking to him without instantly bursting into tears.  I haven’t yet decided what to do about that email… so for now it’s been festering in my inbox.  I’ll deal with it when I figure out what (if anything) I want to do.  Needless to say, the rest of my hectic afternoon was completely unproductive.

Then late yesterday evening, as I was driving back from NJ after another busy day, guess who called me?  DAVID, that motherfucker!  Damn, first the five-year BF randomly contacts me after who knows how long, and now David is reappearing after that disaster of a dinner ~4 months ago?  What the fuck?!?!?!?!??????  This is too much for a girl to handle!  I did NOT pick up the phone but almost had a heart attack when I saw him on the caller ID, which was really bad timing considering that I was already exhausted and falling asleep at the wheel – the last thing I needed was another distraction, especially such a slimy one. 

I angrily threw my phone on the passenger seat and didn’t listen to the voicemail until I finally got back to my apartment.  First of all, I was shocked that he even left a message considering that calling late on a Friday night is obviously a booty call (and really, the only reason that he ever gets in touch with me in the first place).  The voicemail was so weird, I swear.  He said that he wanted to check in, get back in touch, etc.  He hoped that the grad school thing was working out well for me, and — so typical — he told me that I can “call him anytime for anything at all.”  WTF does that mean?  He always used to pull out that kind of shit, and I didn’t like it then, and I don’t like it now.  Whatever.  I deleted the message and that’s the end of the story.

Moving right along… tonight I’m meeting up with NYL for what I hope will be a fun, relaxing night of drinking, live music, and smokin’ hot sex.  I could really use a drama-free night right about now, so I hope this works out well.  As much as everyone on this blog loves to hate NYL (hahaha, don’t deny it, peeps), I actually have fun with him and he carries sub-zero drama compared to everyone else in my life these days.  We had a great time last time, and I’m looking forward to Round 2.

Why does it feel like Return of the Exes around here?  There was that crazy call from the NMP a few weeks ago, and this week I’ve been in contact with with five-year BF, stupid David, and NYL tonight.  Who’s next?  My old high school boyfriend?????  God, I fucking hope not!  (BTW, I found out through Facebook that he got married!  My only reaction: ewwwwww.  Hahaha.)  I need a 12-step program to permanently extricate myself from all this past drama, seriously.

Well… except for NYL because I totally need to hit that tonight.  : )

Anyway, that’s the story.  Can you believe all this shit????  I slept for 12 hours last night because I was so completely exhausted and so overwhelmed by everything that went down this week.  I swear, if something else pops up in the next few weeks, I’m going to check myself into a spa or something and not come out until summer.  Actually, I think I need a drink.

I’m getting together with NYL on Saturday night – game plan TBD.  I’m kind of surprised that I managed to squeeze a Saturday night out of this guy, considering that I was relegated to Tues and Wed nights a few months ago.  In fact, HE was the one who suggested Saturday.  Well shit then!  Oh NYL, why must you be so adorable?  I am a hopeless mush, I swear.

Although I hate to even bring this up, I was talking with a good friend over the weekend about my ridiculously awful dating record lately, and the topic of idiot David came up.  I said that I wish I had never met him in the first place, which would have saved me a ton of aggravation, but she mentioned that perhaps it was something I had to go through and that, if nothing else, it was a good learning experience.  I guess I can see it that way.  It just makes me so mad that I wasted so much energy on such a douchebag.  For like, two years.  Damn.

And one more thing – I just finished watching the first season of True Blood, and I am totally in love with Bill.  I can only imagine the amazing orgasms I would have while he sucked my blood… OH BABY.  : )  (No plot spoilers in the comments, please!)

NYL and I are still exchanging FB messages and are tying to plan a little get together for next week.  I get all excited when the little “inbox (1)” light pops on.  It’s nauseating, really.  : )  I can’t help it!

I’m off to start prepping for the big 30th birthday bash this weekend.  Lots of apartment cleaning to do.  I also picked up a cute little outfit for my par-tay on Saturday night.  Can’t wait!

I’ve got a story for you, and you’re not going to like it.

I’ll make this short and sweet.  With bullets!  Here’s how it went down:

• The new male prospect called me out of the blue last night.
• Apparently he and his GF broke up after a year and a half.
• I do a little happy dance in my head and pat myself on the back for waiting out that relationship for so long.  (Don’t look at me like that.)
• He wants to catch up.
• Tonight.
• With a bottle of wine.
• In my apartment.
• I say absolutely not.  (This is where you’re supposed to be proud of me, blog.)
• He says that he bought me a birthday present and wants to give it to me.
• For about 5 seconds, I am flattered that he remembered and actually bought me something.
• Then he confesses that it’s a vibrator.
• And he wants to come over so that we can break it in.
• I say absolutely not.
• He says that he’s had a sexual fantasy about me.
• And that he’s been jerking off thinking about me.
• And that he remembers all the times we’ve hooked up in the past and how it’s been “really good.”
• I start laughing at how absolutely ridiculous this conversation is getting.
• And still insist that there is no WAY he’s coming over to my apartment.
• We get into a semi-argument about how I don’t want to hook up with him anymore because it always ends the same way and I shut that door a long time ago and want to keep it that way.
• Finally we hang up.  I am speechless.  WTF just happened there???
• I wake up this morning to two text messages that he had sent last night, one of which contained the word “cock.”
• Sigh.

Let the record show that (a) the NMP is the same hornball that he’s always been; and (b) I totally stood my ground.  Someone please remind me – WHY was I waiting out that relationship?  I can’t seem to think of any good reason…

But I sure am curious to see him again.  (I told you that you weren’t going to like this.)

Love and kisses,

~DD

Anyway… as usual, I’d like to start the year off with a little year-in-review, a quick look back at my dating misadventures in 2009 to assess the damage and pick up the pieces before starting the new year off anew.  My 2009 wrap-up should be pretty short and sweet considering that my dating/sex life jumped off the deep end this year, never to be seen again.  And good riddance!  I’m still completely jaded and think dating can kiss my sweet little ass.  I’ve SO had it with that bullshit.  HAD it, I say!  What’s the fucking point????  Maybe after I move out of New York I’ll feel differently about things.  That’s what I’m hoping, actually.  I need to get the hell out of here and start over.  Can’t wait!  (BTW, no news yet on the grad school front – notification letters won’t start coming in until February – the waiting is killing me.  KILLING me!)

So, let’s dive right into the year-in-review, shall we?  Hold on to your seats, my dears, because as you know, this is a bumpy ride…

January

I crossed the line with the new male prospect by blatantly flirting with him over the phone in an explicitly sexual conversation, even though he had a serious girlfriend.  It was kind of awesome, and although I felt guilty afterward about the evident emotional cheating, I would probably do it again if the situation presented itself.  My relationship with NMP is so weird, I swear.

I finally got the medical “all-clear” after many months of STD drama.

February

Having a clean bill of health, I gently dipped my toes back into the sordid world of online dating, got all excited about a “good on paper” guy, and then got drastically bummed out when he disappeared off the face of the earth like an immature child.  Geez, that was frustrating as hell.

March

The saga of Chicago Boy.  We went on exactly 3 dates, I spent the night at his place but never slept with him, and he totally pulled a David and refused to call me like a normal human being.  His final reapperance and simultaneous disappearance wound up being one of the most-clicked posts on this site all year.  What a jerk.  (He was cute, though, I admit that much.)

Oh, and I documented a little sexual fantasy involving two of my favorite, totally hot, drool-inducing male bloggers.  Oh baby.

April

One night I had a crazy dream that I got back together with my five-year BF, then was actually crazy enough to contact him in real life under the delusion that I could actually make my little dream come true.  What a psycho I was!  Oh well, nothing ever came of it, so hopefully I didn’t embarass myself too much there.

I swore off David (aka Hot Marine) “forever” (hahahahaha) after he ditched me after tennis one night.

After too many rejections in a row, I got pretty dejected and actually scared myself with how depressed I was feeling.  So glad I didn’t “accidentally” drive my car into a tree or anything, seriously.  Thanks again to all my lovely blog readers for helping me climb back out of the hole.

I started Weight Watchers, which was probably the best thing I’ve done for myself all year.  I eventually wound up losing 25 pounds and 2 dress sizes – go me!  : )

May

While the Weight Watchers excitement played out, the STD ordeal officially came to a much-needed conclusion after my vaginal reconstructive procedure.  Good as new, finally.

June

I ran my first official race in Central Park, and I had a great visit with my BFF after not seeing her for almost 2 years.  All good things!

And then things started to go downhill – David and I finally slept together again after he had resurfaced back in March.  I proceeded to get all tangled up in his slimy web (for the millionth time) and had no idea what I was in for in the months that followed…

July

Motherfucker.  I slept with David AGAIN.  It hit me pretty hard emotionally, and I wrote a really raw/vulnerable post about it, sent it to him, and — shockingly — got a “heartfelt” (or so I thought) apology from him for being such a jackass in the past.  Too bad it was two years late.

I ventured back into online dating and went on an absolutely ridiculous troll date.  Enough said.  This was the final nail in the coffin and has left me completely jaded ever since! 

August

To my great surprise, New Year’s Lips contacted me out of the blue after having absolutely no contact with him after we had “broken up” (if you can even call it that) 1.5 years earlier.  We met for a drink and caught up, and then wound up going out on a surprisingly nice “real date.”  I was intrigued…

In the meantime, I made the HUGE life-changing decision to go back to grad school (well, to apply at least), which is something that had been brewing for several years.  This made me excited beyond belief.  I’m still pretty damn excited, actually.  : )

Oh, and in my 25-pounds-lighter state, my alcohol tolerance dropped down to zero and I blacked out one night and spent the next day in the hospital with an IV in my arm.  Oops.

September

NYL and I went on our third “date” (???), during which we had the incredibly awkward STD conversation, which essentially ended our little romp down memory lane.

I took a mini-vacation and went down to DC to visit my BFF – a really fun trip.

In an absolutely shocking and unheard of move, David resurfaced and called me– ON THE PHONE — to wish me luck on the GRE.  Once again, I became tangled in his web of charm and douchebaggery.  Little did I know at the time, but this little incident was the lead-up to the major bombshell that was about to be dropped…

But before all that would be unraveled, I spent two weeks studying like a crazy woman and took the GRE – my first big step toward grad school bliss.  Go me!

October

I finally (FINALLY!) saw David for what he truly was – an absolute monster.  You’ll be happy to know that there has been absolutely no contact with him since that night, and I truly hope that I never hear from him again.  I am appalled at my own behavior more than his and can’t believe that I put up with it for so long.

November

This blog took a turn toward the nasty when I got busted for educational snobbery and attempted to plead my case to the masses.  Enough said – don’t want to rehash that any more than needed.

NYL and I went out for a very nice, very platonic dinner.  Hmm… were we friends now?

After dragging my heels a bit, I submitted all my grad school applications and breathed a huge sigh of relief.  My fate is in the hands of the admissions committees now – *gulp!*

December

I experienced what was arguably the most exciting night of my adult life – I saw Hugh Jackman in person in a Broadway show.  Ohhhhhhhh, how star-struck I was after that night.  Ohhhhhhh what I would give to be a bead of sweat on Hugh’s gorgeous, chiseled body.  Needless to say, I’m still not over it.  : )

And finally, after much ado over the past several months, NYL and I finally slept together after a fantastically fun night of drinking, dancing, and making out at a bar.  Say what you will — but I had had a damn good time.

Final thoughts on 2009

Despite my apparent lack of dating, sex, or anything even remotely resembling a healthy relationship with a man this past year, I firmly believe that 2009 was one hell of a good year on almost all other fronts.  Between Weight Watchers, applying to grad school, and a slew of other self-improvement projects, I think I made a substantial amount of progress on taking back control of my life and steering it in the right direction.  I can’t wait to see what’s in store for me in 2010.  Pending notification letters that should arrive in Feb/March, I might just wind up quitting my job, moving to the west coast, and immersing myself in academia, warm weather, and a whole brand spanking new life.  Woo-hoo!  : )

Here’s wishing you all a healthy and happy new year, filled with joy, love, peace, adventure, and — of course — lots of great sex that you’ll tell me all about!  Rock on, my dears!

Two friends and I had plans to have dinner at one of my favorite new tapas restaurants and then head over to a bar for some live music/drinks/partying/etc.  Dinner was great (sooooo delicious), and we made it over to the bar as planned.  Because we just so happened to be right near New Year’s Lips’ place (and yes, I can see your eyes rolling), I had invited him to come out and meet me for a drink, and lo and behold, he was actually up for it.  So we get to the bar, have a drink or two, and then NYL shows up and winds up hanging out with my friends and me for the entire night. 

Let me tell you: it was awesome.

Not only did NYL fit right in with my little group of friends, but he actually busted out some pretty damn good dance moves and we all wound up having a blast.  Many drinks were drunk and many booties were shaken.  About halfway through the night NYL and I started getting pretty touchy-feely on the dance floor, and when he leaned in for a kiss, I gladly took him up on the offer.  DAMN.  NYL is so hilarious – he was all “you were always a good kisser… wow…” and meanwhile I’m just about DYING from what an amazing kiss that was.  Does he really not know how good he is?  Anyway, we pretty much made out for the rest of the night, which was totally fine with my friends because they just happened to be making out with other random guys at the bar.  Win-win-win, if you ask me.  A little while later he asked if I wanted to go back to his place, and I was like, “ummm… YES.”  Score.

But the night was far from over.  It turned out that my two friends who can usually drink me under the table wound up getting REALLY sick at the end of the night.  And by “really sick” I mean “holy shit, that was more puke than I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”  It was awful.  I felt so bad, and I was actually getting pretty worried and was on the verge of calling for an ambulance because they must have been getting so ridiculously dehydrated.  Not to mention the fact that all four of us (my two sick friends AND me and NYL) were covered in puke by this point.  I must have apologized to NYL about a dozen times, but he was surprisingly a really good sport about the whole thing and even helped me pry my friends out of the bathroom and got our coats and all that good stuff.  What a nice guy, right?  I was starting to remember why I liked him in the first place.

As we’re leaving the bar, NYL looks at me, looks at my friends, looks at my puke-covered boots, and says “well, as usual for us, I guess we’ll have to reschedule for another night, huh?”  Well, you know me… I wasn’t about to pass up the invitation to go back to his place… so I asked if he would be up for waiting up for me while I took my friends home and put them to bed, and he was all “absolutely” and that was that.

Getting my friends home was quite the adventure.  It was a non-stop puke-fest the entire time.  There were many stops along the way.  Recall that it was fucking FREEZING on Friday night in New York, which made the trip home all the more agonizing.  Man, what a trip.  Don’t get me wrong – I’m more than happy to take care of these girls and love them to death (hell, they took great care of me when I got sick a few months ago) – but the whole night was just so hilarious and such a ridiculous disaster.  I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried!  Also, it was pretty awful to see my friends so sick – I had definitely never seen either of them in such a bad state before.  My heart was aching.  I hope I never see them like that again.  Anyway, I finally managed to get them both home safe and sound, and by that time it was about 3:15 in the morning.  I called NYL to see if he was still up, and he was, and so I made my way back over to his place.

He had left the door unlocked for me, and when I walked in, I could tell he had fallen asleep on the couch.  Aww, how cute.  I gently brushed the backs of my fingers against his arm, he smiled at me as he woke up, and he kissed me hello (thinking back, he always did make a point of kissing hello and goodbye – very cute).  By this point it was almost 4 in the morning, and I was completely exhausted and covered in puke, and I kind of just collapsed on the couch with the granola bar and cup of tea that magically appeared in my hands from his kitchen.  I curled up in his arms and drank my tea, and we laughed about what a huge disaster the night had turned out to be, but how it was still a pretty fucking fun time, what with all the dancing (so fun!) and making out and rocking out to the band (which was actually pretty good).

Eventually we sleepily dragged ourselves back to his bedroom, cuddled up under his comforter (it was freezing, and I was wearing a sleeveless dress), and had what I can confidently say was some damn good sex.  Sex with NYL had always been good – very good, actually – and this time was no different.  Well, I guess the difference this time was that it was kind of scandalous and casual, but at the same time, it was actually pretty sweet.  I was reminded of the following: (a) NYL is one hot piece of ass – I think he’s fucking gorgeous; (b) NYL’s tongue can do magical things; and (c) he is absolutely adorable and was smiling at me like a kid in a candy store the entire time.  I was also reminded that he has seriously intense orgasms for a guy and can really fuck the daylights out of me.  Did I mention that it was damn good sex???

Afterward I brushed my teeth and curled up with him in his bed and we finally drifted off to sleep somewhere around 5:30 in the morning.  We cuddled up all night, and his cats found their way into bed with us, and I got that snuggly warm feeling that I had always loved when I had spent the night at his place in the past.  Surrounded by warmth on a cold night, not to mention that the majority of the warmth was coming from a hot naked man.  Dude, it was awesome.  We woke up late, cuddled and chatted and made out for a few hours in bed, and I finally dragged myself out of there around noon or so.  He kissed me goodbye with a big smile on his face, and I ran my fingers through his hair and smiled back at him, and he mentioned that we should do this again sometime.  I agreed, and that was that.

I seriously had so much fun with him that night (even just rocking out with him on the dance floor – so fun!), which on one hand is great and is keeping me all warm and fuzzy as I write this a few days later, but on the other hand is so frustrating because I know full well that my strange little interactions with him are doomed.  Regardless, the night was quite a roller coaster and, if nothing else, will make a good story to tell down the road.  I just can’t help but be charmed by his adorable smile, his hilarious dance moves, his willingness to help my friends while they were essentially puking on him, and the way he was so sweet with me back at his place.  *Sigh.*

It was a good night.  : )

Over the past year or so, I’ve read a bunch of articles on how social networking sites, and Facebook in particular, have influenced real-life relationships for better or for worse (but mostly for worse).  In particular, I’ve heard so many stories of being “dumped” on Facebook by seeing your significant other change their status (either to “single” or to “in a relationship” with someone else) without informing you in real life that the relationship is over.  Let me repeat: what the fuck???

Is this what our society has come to?  Where we’re so withdrawn from reality that the internet becomes a substitute for real life?  Don’t get me wrong, I admit that I’m guilty of this myself.  I’m a self-proclaimed internet junkie, and this blog is just one piece of evidence in a high-piled stack.  But I just can’t seem to fathom ending a relationship by changing my Facebook status.  In fact, my (newly created) Facebook profile doesn’t even list my “status” or that I’m “interested in men” or anything like that at all.  Facebook is just a place where my real life friends and I share photos and waste time when we’re supposed to be working.  When I want to talk about my dating/sex life… well… that’s what this blog is for.  : )

Anyway, I just wanted to voice my frustration with this ridiculous internet phenomenon and re-assert my personal opinion that I’m not quite sold on this whole Facebook thing in the first place.  Sometimes it’s better to just pick up the phone, you know?

Friend: “Oh, by the way, I read that article you sent me.”
DD: “Oh really?  So what do you think?  I’m not so sure that I agree with everything in there, particularly the bit about settling for a guy you’re not thrilled about.”
Friend: “Well, I don’t know, I think I actually agree with that.  I think it might be better to settle than to be miserable by myself.”
DD: “What?!?  Are you really ‘miserable’ by yourself???  I’m certainly not!”

And then it hit me… I can honestly say that I’m NOT miserable being single these days.  Sure, I’d prefer being with someone over being single, but am I really “miserable” alone?  No fucking way!  Especially these days.  I’ve got a ton of great (GREAT!) stuff going on right now, and I’ve gotten incredibly comfortable on my own two feet.  I push away sleazy bar monkeys on the dance floor in favor of dancing with either with my girlfriends or (gasp!) by myself (there’s more room for funky moves when you’re not attached to a dude), I go to movies by myself, I’m going to that upcoming Broadway show by myself (it was the only way I could snag that front row seat!), and I’m super independent in a lot of other ways.  Plus, after some recent conversations with married friends, I’m not so sure it’s all it’s cracked up to be.  Of course there are wonderful things about marriage, but I’m really enjoying the absolute freedom I have right now, and I find that I’m one of the few people I know who is truly 100% uncommitted.  It’s actually… invigorating. 

I went through a pretty rough year last year, what with “the incident” and associated mental breakdown, my subsequent health problems (both STD-related and some other crap), and some serious emotional damage from both of these things combined with a string of bad dates (troll date, anyone?).  Truth be told, I was pretty miserable for a while.  But now?  Now I feel great!  I’ve been privately referring to 2009 as my “year of personal improvements” – I dropped 25 pounds and 2 dress sizes,  I learned a ton about nutrition, I started embracing my naturally curly hair, I got promoted at work, I had a successful summer of running, I ran my first official race, I made the decision to finally apply to grad school, I fucking kicked ass on the GRE, and my school applications are nearly complete.  All that’s left are the holidays, and then my big 30th birthday bash in January.  Awesome on all fronts!!!

Being single is something that definitely has its good points and its bad points, and of course I’d welcome a little companionship and a shot in the arm for my sex life, not to mention a second income to help pay for my ridiculously high cost of living here in New York.  BUT, am I miserable without them?  Absolutely not.  I’m getting along by myself just fine, thank you very much.  : )

And honestly, if my friend is miserable by herself, I’d certainly like to help her fix that.  I’ve been encouraging her to do things for herself, to spend a little extra money on things that will make a difference in her self confidence and state of mind.  For example, she’s been pondering getting a tattoo, and I think she should totally go for it!  It’ll give her that little boost that might help to push her out of whatever misery she might find herself in.  I don’t know what, if anything, will actually help her feel ok with being single, but every little bit helps, right?

Anyway, that’s the story.  What do you think?  Are you “miserable” being single?  Did finding someone bring you out of your misery?  Are you more miserable now that you’re with someone than before (I hope not!)?  Are you single and loving it??  : )

Say that we happened to be surrounded by glasses of absolutely fucking fantastic wine, a mind-blowingly tasty meal, and dessert that could make you swear off all other foods for all eternity.

Say that this certain ex got all dressed up to have dinner with me, including the gel in his hair and the whole nine yards.

Now, my dears, I’m trying very hard to imagine what I might be thinking in this completely hypothetical situation, and I *think* I might have concluded that although the man sitting across from me was smokin’ hot when we had dated last year, he had miraculously got EVEN HOTTER and is now the equivalent of a Greek god for whom I would sacrifice myself for the good of all humanity.  I might be thinking that the mere existence of such a fucking GORGEOUS man would single-handedly prove the existence of a divine power.  I might be thinking that as I stare into those beautiful light brown eyes, my entire world crumbles and my body is transformed into a helpless pile of mush for him to lather all over his insanely manly and instantaneous-orgasm-inducing body.

That’s what I *would* be thinking, *if* this situation had actually occurred, which of course it most certainly did not.

And you know what else would have happened if this completely hypothetical situation had actually occurred?  I would have fought my way through the wine-induced smokin’-hot-man haze, given him a friendly hug goodnight, come home to my apartment by myself, and gone to sleep.

And I would have successfully executed a totally platonic (cough) and completely pleasant dinner with an ex.

But of course this situation is completely hypothetical, because I would NEVER do something like this.  Never.

Cough, cough.

Oh, excuse me, I had a little something in my throat for a minute there.

So, eHarmony.  When I was a naive little chickadee and first decided to give the online dating thing a whirl, I was deathly afraid of getting murdered by some online psycho with a bottle of hand cream, a butcher knife, and a freezer full of severed heads.  I had heard that eHarmony was a “more serious” dating site and was geared toward long-term relationships and was not as sketchy and ridiculous as some of the other sites.  In fact, I had two friends who had met nice, normal, stable guys on that site, so I figured it would be a good place for me to get my feet wet.  It was like the online dating kiddie pool – go in slowly, see if the temperature is right, and no need to worry about drowning because the water is only a foot deep.  Perfect, right?  Or so I thought…

It didn’t take long before I realized that eHarmony is total bullshit.  I mean, I suppose it *does* facilitate introductions and interactions just like any dating site, but really, I think eHarm is a total scam.  And here’s why:

- It’s seriously overpriced.  I think I paid something like $60/month, and that was a few years ago.  Totally not worth it for what you’re getting (see my points below).

- By far, my biggest beef with eHarmony is that, when I was on it a few years ago (and feel free to jump in here if they’ve added this feature since then), there’s no way to tell if the people you’re matched with are actually active on the site.  No “active within the past 3 days,” no “online now,” no “don’t even bother emailing this guy because he married someone a year ago, never turned off the matching feature, and has no intention of ever signing in again for the rest of eternity.”  This is a MAJOR problem, in my opinion, and is the biggest “scam” factor of the entire site.  For all you know, your matches could be reading your messages right away, or your well thought-out emails could be rotting away in an inbox that’s covered with a year’s worth of cobwebs and dozens of other stale, never-to-be-opened messages.  Combine this with the fact that the site restricts you to only a handful of matches per day (I usually got ~6/day here in the New York area), and you’re left with *maybe* 1 or 2 people who are actually paying attention.  This significantly slows down the dating process (encouraging you to keep renewing and forking over the $$$) and leaves you with little chance of success.  TOTAL BULLSHIT!

- During my brief affair with eHarm, it didn’t take long before I started noticing a disturbing and disappointing trend in the guys that I was interacting with on there (including the handful of guys I actually met in person): they were mostly losers and virgins.  Now don’t get me wrong – they were all perfectly nice, polite, intelligent, non-psycho, non-serial killer guys – but DAMN, these guys were the folks that society left behind.  They were the ultimate social outcasts, the pasty white video game addicts living in their mother’s basement, the guys who wouldn’t know what to do with a girl even if she handed him an instruction manual.  Coming from me – a girl who openly admits to be looking for a dorky guy – this is really saying A LOT.  These guys were just *too dorky* even for me.  One guy actually told me that he was “just like the 40-year-old virgin, only 10 years younger.”  Geez, what a turn on, buddy!  It was absolutely infuriating.  I was getting nowhere.

- Another complaint: the site makes you jump through all sorts of hoops before you can actually send someone an email.  Technically you can opt for the “fast track” or something like that, but I always thought that it gives the impression that you’re just after a piece of ass, which is not really something I wanted to tag myself with.  The problem is that hardly anyone, in my experience anyway, actually takes all those get-to-know-you questions seriously, and you wind up waiting for these losers to get back to you with crappy 3-word responses that don’t tell you anything about them.  On the other hand, my naive little brain spent way too long crafting cute little responses to these stupid questions, only to be disappointed at the lack of effort I received in return.  Pointless, I’m telling you.

Since my eHarm days, I’ve gotten way more to-the-point with online dating, opting to exchange 1-2 emails with a guy before cutting to the chase and meeting him for coffee, god damn it.  Actually, as you know, lately the whole concept of online dating revolts me, and I choose to be alone rather than deal with that bullshit anymore.  Then again, with that said, one of the two friends I mentioned above married her eHarmony guy last year and is expecting her first child after the new year.  So, I guess it works for some people.

All I’m saying is that I think eHarm is more of a scam than anything else, and if you’re really interested in meeting a bunch of people – *dateable* people – then perhaps good old match.com is a much better bet.  Not that I have anything particularly flattering to say about match, but at least you can tell if your perfect guy is “online now.”  Makes it easier to stalk him.  : )

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.

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.

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.  : )

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.

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?  : )

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?

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.

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?

- 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…?  : )

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.  : )