What Have I Done?!!!

I have signed up for an online dating site, 5 years after I shut down my last account.  I must admit that while a lot has happened in my life in the last 5 years, it seems that not a lot has happened in the online dating world.  I am still over educated and fishing around in a pool of men who seem to seriously undervalue the importance of a capitalized "I."  It will be good for laughs with JS and my roommate, but I seriously doubt that anything will come of it. But I will let you know.

So in light of this whole profile business I must post this which seems to be the story of my life these days.  Not me sleeping around, but I've sort of, shall we say marginally, come to accept that I am going to be the "slut" of the school.  Personally I hate the word, I wouldn't use it on anyone, but it seem in my very conservative school that because I'm a woman with breasts who does occasionally have cleavage or my shoulders bar that I'm scandalous.  Even further to that scandal I'm a feminist who uses birth control which according to a very interesting but ultimately sad  conversation with DirectoryBoy, who if you remember is a medical doctor, birth control is only for promiscuous women.  Yes you heard me.  I guess I haven't been using mine to its full potential.

Primarily because I love this site: http://editorrealtalk.tumblr.com/

Since it was mentioned...

So I found Mr. Bombastic, finally, I will not divulge how long I spent trying to figure who he was, and of course when I found him, I completely remembered his name... Not important though. He's in one of those "It's Complicated" places according to his FB status (yes he added me - silly fool). So what does that tell me or us.  Well I for one am not a fan of the "It's Complicated" status because it says we are too comfortable/dependent on each other to cut the strings but we want to/need to. I as a whole have mixed feelings regarding FB statuses.  I for one have nothing posted, I think my lack of pictures with a male or a wedding ring or really any of those things says enough, nor do I think it is really anyone's beeswax if I am single.  However, and I stress however, sometimes I understand why it is an option.  I have a friend of mine who I lost contact with in the MySpace to FB transition.  I know she is/was married as a friend of mine used her photographer for her own wedding.  However this individual has no recent pictures of her husband, does not wear a ring and doesn't use her married name apart from her documentation (we are in the same department at school).  She is not the only person who appears to be in a separation/divorce, and well you do not want to assume anything...

Anyways Mr. Bombastic is also Mr. It's Complicated and I have far too many of those in my life, we more specifically AB as a friend has filled that It's Complicated space and I am not seeking any new applicants.  Well it was fun for that little while.

So the song is not relevant but it is a visually beautiful video and the song is not bad either, you know these days anything other than that damn Lady Antebellum song works for me.

Hi All

So it seems in recent weeks that I've picked up a few lovely new folks.  So to those following or those lurking in the Interweb's shadows. The run down here is quite simple:

1. Everyone gets a nickname - there was a time in my life where I had my name and everything out in the open along with the names of Ms. J and well anyone who would grace these posts.  Well then CEF and a few other crazies caused me to shut down my old blog.  I actually stopped blogging for about 6 months which is a lifetime for me.  Then my shrink thought it was time for me to start dating, so here we are.

2.  What's up with the names?  Well L or HHMNERP (Hot Hot Married Native Ex Roomie Princess) as she prefers to be called started up the naming game when it came to naming boys we would see around town but didn't know their names - the very first one - Boy I Know My Mother Would Hate... I still see him around town.  The names protect everyone and makes everything else a little more kosher around these parts.

3. Check the right column for the run down on the names.

4. Who am I?  Well you can think of me as whoever you want - sorry no details, I've learned the less you really know the more protection I have - goodness it's like I am hiding from someone...

5. Comment - let me know what you think - I am always open for a swift kick or more preferably a laugh.  The large majority of these posts are written out of sheer humorous frustration.  I'm seriously not cranky and bitchy all the time, well unless you're one of my employees... just kidding.

6. Last but not least all my followers have pretty fabulous blogs, check them out.

I Need A Favour

I need someone to check my texts from last night - really anything sent after 8pm. Once those are in the clear we need to find a way to convince Blackberry to develop a drunk texting app, something that will test your blood alcohol level and shut down if it's too high or something like that.

On the plus side of the evening and the reason I ended up the way I did:

1. Ms J is going to be my neighbor, we can be study buddies, sick buddies, TV buddies - we are going to have to marry twins at this rate kind of buddies. And even better there is a liquid fun store up the street so it will be awesome. All around awesome plus I have a friend who's a legitimate adult now, unlike me.

2. I looked good though who knows how I looked at the end of the evening. I mean I was fully clothed - nothing lost - though my hair might have been a fright... actually I did take off my shoes at the corner where Ms. J will be living soon, and walked home barefoot - the express bus had made me feel a little off. That really wasn't the issue, the issue was walking past the 4 police officers guarding the entrance to the venue and trying not to giggle.

3. I didn't kill myself on the BOSU in the middle of my floor

4. I was up and awake at 7am - yay circadian rhythm, I would have been up and showered and all that - but the landlord had emptied it so I wasted the last 2 hours in bed catching up on my blog reading. Y'all need to post more.

So... since I know no one is going to check my phone for me and honestly I would somehow be mortified if someone read it first before I could blog my shame, give me a second to remind myself that since AB isn't in bed next to me, it couldn't have been that bad...

Photo: http://www.flickr.com/photos/realplastictrees/2662405773/

An Update

I made mention that I was going to see how BB was doing these days. A little back story so you don't have to read the last post, though you can... In the beginning of our interaction, he seemed sweet, attentive and well normal (you can see where this is going). He disappeared from Sbucks quite suddenly and then low and behold reappeared on Saturday morning as I stumbled in rather scantily clad in my opinion in a sweaty tank and running skirt (which is easily 3 inches shorter than I would ever dare to wear a skirt under normal circumstances). The same day he slipped his number under my bagel and I went home thinking weee, I have a date with a guy who might be less commitment phobic than AB (and that nothing would be "wrong" with him). So being that I hate the phone, I texted him to set up a date*, and was greeted with a seemingly unending sequence of lovely dovey texts. Red flag - big massive red flag, like size of China red flag. But being that I felt like making AB jealous and being the never quit kind of girl I thought I would give him a chance. I picked him up from work that Saturday afternoon - at which time I will confess it was the last place on earth I wanted to be given that I had run 10miles that morning. But I went. And it went downhill fast. In the first 5 minutes in the car I wanted to inflict pain to myself. In the following 15 minutes I wanted to inflict pain on him. Why? He gave me more personal history in those 20minutes than I gave to my therapist in the first year of therapy after CEF and it was the REAL SKELETONS, not the ones in your high school biology class. I smiled my way through lunch knowing that as my therapist says, "Fake 'til You Make It" could get me through. Fake I am enjoying it, fake that he doesn't scare me in that ewww I know WAY TOO much about you kind of way... So the issue then was this...

He gave me free Sbucks every morning... now I am in many ways a practical girl, at nearly 5 dollars a pop - that is 25/week I could smile, flirt, do whatever in platonic terms it took to get my Grande Soy Earl Grey Tea latte. Or so I thought. See the problem was he was like a 14 year old girl in love and I the unsuspecting 19 year old guy. The bigger problem was the back hugs. Back hugs are not mutual. If you hug me from behind, I am not participating, simple as that. I would cringe and normally facing the barista behind the bar, they would see the pained look on my face that I never tried to hide. I stopped going. There is no way on God's green Earth that I am that desperate.

He texted on New Years - a really really cringe worthy text. So... this week when I got desperate enough for tea and short enough on change that I really really wanted a freebie, I was shocked when I got the cold shoulder. No note on my cup, no back hug, no hi, no nothing, not even a free latte. So this would be where Ms. J would stop laughing and say this is a good thing. I am sure it is but I want a free latte. So I guess in the end I need to whore myself out to someone else, boo.

Now just in case you are wondering - I have done it before, and I will do it again - Sbucks owes me as I have single handily put at least one barista through university if not two.

Continuing on my love of SYTYCD - and someone else other than BB, take note of Ms. Stone's request and get on it.

Part 2 of 3

So about MW.... Hmm, what do the kids call it these days... Sorry I guess before I reveal that I should back this story up. As I was watching the shitty paint job my landlord did on the walls of my room circle around me, MW was busy FB messaging me (after the initial tweet)... he's got a computer and I have a Crackberry, it's about the only way we communicate...

Apparently all the hormones that had left my body had found their way into a boy with a case of cabin fever and a desire to make me blush. I believe you young'ins call it sexting, wasn't quite that but let's just say he wasn't discrete. So there I was trying to figure out how to remove the picture of AB in my head that was accompanying MW's descriptions, I know I am really horrible, and all the while I was trying to figure out how the hell this all happened. Since when did I start wearing an open for all and any business sign because contrary to what seems to be happening that ain't the case. So anyways MW enjoyed himself and I occupied the swirling room, tile floor sitting time with a little humor. So back to this general issue, I expressed to MW I'm not that kind of girl - I love/loved AB so I could rationalize the dysfunctional nature of all that, but well MW is a friend at best, we don't hang out, he lives on a island and all that, and while there are those that argue that's great, it will happen and I can kick him from my bed and the mainland and be done with it. Well I know my heart won't have any part in it. Why is that we think that our hearts should?

PS Next time I drink please just take my phone from me and well maybe I just shouldn't drink, combine medications and fluctuating hormones...

Photo: http://www.flickr.com/photos/nshepard/1263499165/

Everyone Meet...

AB *waves*

No I haven't added another AB, trust me, one in this lifetime is enough, would have been enough, but I think I need to stop the verbal/cranial diarrhea...but regardless.

So I found myself last night standing in the cold of the impending fall, it was cold to me, whether it was actually cold is another issue, being rude and trying find my keel again. I called AB, typing a message on FB on my Crackberry is as annoying as getting my SBucks drink made with milk instead of soy... so I had the joy of saying things in plain language like the lines on the white stick stress moment and listening to silence. Um ya AB, so you can't commit now, and you wonder why I didn't call and say hey my non-boyfriend we've got a little situation here, wondering if you wanted to come hold my hand and then run to the liquor store for a toasting beverage or a shot of courage for you. In the end the situation is as it was before - we're "friends" I'm beginning to feel that horrendous Kelly Clarkson song coming on like a deranged episode of Once More With Feeling, I'm going to break into, "don't waste your time trying to fix, what I want to erase, what I need to forget, don't waste your time on me my friend, friend, what does that even mean." Maybe this is a sign that I need to do as Ms. J has suggested, cut all ties, delete him, block him and move on... likely would be a good thing if I could do that, spending time without him is enough of a step at this moment, in time I think the other will come. Right now I'm trying to take one step at a time away from AB. Since yes we all can say I'm crazy about him and even crazier that I think that. Could someone commit me to the rehab all the celebrities go to, the ones with all the booze and drugs, that way I could get the supervised vay-cay I need. Meh, I guess it's just time to up the miles on the daily run.

For the record - I don't believe anyone can be fixed with a relationship or without or any of that business - we can be healthier - but that health thing is an individual journey in my opinion....

So It's Like the Worst Kept Secret

But I've done a hell of a lot of therapy in the last year, and what did I get out of it, or more specifically what am I getting out of it, a potty mouth. Yes apparently I swear more these days and I also indulge in other healthy past-times too - desserts and shoes. Yes I have come to the land of beautiful people and beautiful shoes and since I'm not prepared to do whatever it takes to cram a wealthy Midtown single gent in my suitcase or however I would get him home, I've decided to purchase some shoes. Some shoes to remind me that I can feel beautiful and sexy and I don't care if anyone else thinks that I am. Because between Victoria and me I know that from my head to my toes and everywhere in between the woman I am is beautiful.

Shoes!! Oh how I do love thee, and note to any future someone special - I'm an 8, and the higher the heel and more luxurious the leather, the better...