Thursday, September 16, 2010

Well, hello again, singledom.

It's been a while. I can't say that I've missed you - not even the teeniest little bit. You bring a lot of baggage - insecurity, mixed signals, creepy pick-up lines, bad sex - to name a few. And I kind of hate dealing with you.

But what choice do I have?

-Become a hermit and stay locked away in my room?

-Devote myself to a lifetime of celibacy and check into the nearest convent?

Since neither of those seem like viable options, looks like I'm stuck with you and your sick sense of humor.

Let's discuss what you've done to me in the two short months you've come back into my life:

I. Staged a run-in with an ex-fling. Since this random encounter, I have been the lucky recipient of late-night booty texts...some as late as 4:30 a.m. and all with my name misspelled. I have one of the most common names in America, and this genius can't even get that right - EPIC FAIL.

II. Allowed me to experience what it's like to date someone almost 20 years older than me. It was nice for a couple weeks - the chivalry, wining and dining, insistance on pleasing me in bed (side note: is it just me or could most twenty-something year-old males not give two shits about whether or not they get a girl off?).

Anywho, a few weeks in it became painfully obvious why that big of an age gap doesn't usually work. I still want to date around and party, and he couldn't deal with me going out regularly and hanging out with other guys. It was borderline a little crazy, so I don't even want to know how he'd act if we were exclusive.

But the real kicker is, when we finally decided to end our "fling" (via facebook instant messenger, none the less...yeah, real classy), he asked if we could have sex one last time.

a) I've never been asked that before b) it made me feel like a whore and c) HELL NO!

III. Gotten me smitten with a guy who told me he wasn't looking for anything serious the third time we hung out. I've heard that song and dance enough times to know that's code for "I like you, just not enough to date you." But instead of writing him off, I did the typical I'm-a-girl-and-I'm-going-to-over-analyze-everything-he-says-and-does-to-convince-myself-he-likes-me routine. And guess what? It's been almost two weeks, and I haven't heard from him. I've stopped overanalyzing and accepted that he's just not that into me, but it still effing sucks.

Oh, singledom, I can't tell you how excited I am to be 26 and back at the starting line, having to wade through all the crazies, assholes and bullshit you throw my way to find a decent guy. But, you definitely keep things interesting - so, bitch:


Thursday, September 9, 2010

So, that whole grad school thing...

...don't think it's gonna happen. Not right now at least.

I signed up for one class. On Thursday nights from 7:20 - 10 p.m.

Let's think of the problems with this scenario:

1) I won't get home in time for Jersey Shore.
2) That's prime time for Thursday night debauchery.
3) I have to get from downtown D.C. to Fairfax during rush hour. Yes, I could rely on mass transit; however, at 10 p.m. the metro runs every 20 minutes and then I have to take a bus which runs every 30 minutes back to my apartment. So we're looking at midnight arrival time. This leaves driving as the alternative - after metroing and taking the bus to my apartment. Getting from Arlington to Fairfax should theoretically take 20 minutes. In rush hour, it takes 45 mins - 1 hour. Then, I have to pay $9 for parking each week (the equivalent of 6 beers at Whitlows mug night).

Some mayjah negatives.

Plus, I'm just not sure I'm ready to give up a huge chunk of my time drinking/socializing/crashing on the couch for hours on end to write term papers and read 500 pages a week.

Six months ago, I was trapped in a job I detested and thought there was no way out. Grad school seemed like a way out. At least a way to open up more job opportunities.

Now, I like my job and I no longer feel like grad school is my only salvation. I've already found it.

And shelling out $1400 per class seems mighty stupid for something I'm not so sure I want. It's like buying a pair of shoes I know I'll never wear.

So yeah....I'm going to drop my class for this semester. I still have next semester to sign up if I change my mind. But right now life is looking pretty good the way it is.

Friday, September 3, 2010

I'll Get By with a Little Help From My Friends

Per yesterday's post, we all know how splendid the Red Sox game with The Hoff went.

By the fifth inning, I was so annoyed with watching him incessantly text another girl, I finally broke out my phone for moral support.

Me: So, The Hoff keeps texting this girl right in front of me. So awkward and weird!
SK: Oh that's just great! Is it the slut from your blog? I just read that the other day. [Ed. note: she was referring to FTW]
Me: No, it's some girl named Dee. Who the eff is named Dee??
SK: Dee Snider hahahahahah

The thought of The Hoff texting someone who looks like Dee Snider made me spew my beer all over the place and almost fall out of my seat.

Please to enjoy pictures of this handsome specimen of a human being.

Here he is in his glory days as the frontman of Twisted Sister:

These days, he looks more like this:

Friends make everything better. And to those of you who have listened to the all the drama and provided a shoulder to cry on or a much-needed laugh - THANK YOU. It means more than you know.

And now, I'm off to enjoy this fabulous 3-day weekend! Happy Labor Day/excuse to drink on Sunday night!!

Thursday, September 2, 2010

Becoming "friends" with your ex

You ever feel like you have so much going on you just don't know what to write/say?

Where to even begin.....

I guess, first things first, The Hoff and I are officially no more. He came over a couple weeks ago and told me that he thought it would be best for us to make our break permanent, since he could never fully trust me. It kind of knocked me on my ass, honestly. I felt like Jennifer Aniston in the "Break Up," hoping that by not being with me The Hoff would miss me so much that he'd want to do whatever it takes to resolve our issues and be together.

Well, things didn't turn out so hunky-dory for Jen and they certainly didn't go any better for me. At least she got a nice dinner out of it and an attempt at salvaging. I got nothin'.

I will say though, it's nice that The Hoff and I didn't have some horrendous break up where we can't even stand to look at each other. We're still "friends." As much of a friend you can be with someone who used to know every inane detail about your day and who you shared all of your intimate secrets with. Someone who is now regulated to the status of receiving random gchats or texts every few days and awkward silences when you do finally hang out in person. Because really, after the obligatory "how's work going?", "how are your roommates?", "the weather we're having is hot-as-balls" chit-chat, what is there left to say?

I don't want to know what girls he's met, who exactly he's been bar hopping with on weekends, how he's thrown away every card I ever wrote him...

Trecherous terriorty to venture into, folks.

And when we do hang out, I want to hold his hand, call him the pet name I so creatively/nauseatingly created for him and have him kiss my forehead the way he always did to let me know that everything is okay in the world.

But it's not. The Hoff and Miss Procras. chapter is over. And the reality of that slaps me across the face everytime we hang out.

Like last night.

For his birthday (which was in May), I bought tickets to the Red Sox vs. Orioles game. Nothing too horrific happened. The Hoff just kept pulling out his phone, texting someone repeatedly who had a name that more than likely belonged to a female. Of course, being a girl, my mind started wandering. I mean, who does a guy text multiple times while he's watching his favorite sports team? I gotta assume it's to converse with a girl he's interested in/wants to sleep with, but that's just me. (Side note: I did some Facebook stalking this morning and confirmed it most definitely is a girl around my age, who is cute, which makes it that much more of a low blow.)

Granted, I hold no claim to The Hoff. He is a free man who can text, hang out with and date whoever he pleases. But to text someone so blatantly infront of the person you spent the last two years of your life with, the person who is taking you out for your birthday, well...that sucks.

No other word for it. It just plain and simple sucks.

So, I guess the age old question remains - can exes be friends?

I think to a certain extent, yes. I'll never have the type of relationship with The Hoff that I once did. I'm pretty sure it will remain a very surface-level friendship. But, I can still laugh with him and have fun.

And at the end of the day, I can look back at the past two years and smile. I don't think of the fights or harbor bitterness toward anything that happened. I think of all the trips we went on as a couple, our inside jokes that only made us keel over laughing and all the new experiences I shared with The Hoff. Are there some things I'd do differently? Absolutely. But I've come out of this relationship a better person. And I think that's really all anyone can ask for.

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