How to win over your date - i.e. guarantee you'll get asked out again

I'm clearly a little rusty at this whole dating thing, since I haven't been single in basically four years.

But I had a date this past Thursday night. A first date to be more specific.

We decided to meet for drinks, and I suggested the best happy hour spot in Arlington, because, well...I like to get my drink on.

I proceeded to have two ginormous mugs of beer (you seriously need two hands to grip these bad boys...that's what she said), a shot and a vodka tonic...on an empty stomach. Because drinking your dinner is always a splendid idea.

Halfway through my mixed drink/night cap, I definitely started to feel the effects of my libations. I tried to play it cool by challenging my date to arcade basketball and masterfully concealing my left eye so he couldn't see it do its drunken half open/half closed thing:

If that doesn't scream sexy, I don't know what does.

Yeah, um....mission FAILED. I'm not sure if it was the drunk eye or insistence on drunk food that gave it away, but it was completely obvious I was shit-housed.

So, being the gentleman that he is, my date offered to drive me home. And I decided the best way to show my gratitude would be to get into his car, recline the seat back as far as it would go and immediately pass the eff out.

Can we say Classy, table for one?

Obviously, I never thought I'd hear from this guy again. I mean, between downing drinks and becoming comatose at the end of the night, I clearly I presented myself as prime dating material - the kind of girl you would totally want to introduce to mom and dad.

At least that's what went through my mind the next day as I told the story to my friends, while laughing hysterically at my hot mess of a self.

I guess I really shouldn't be surprised - boy logic never ceases to amaze me - but, I have another date with this guy tonight. Maybe he just likes lushes or maybe he's a glutton for punishment, I don't know. What I do know is I completely abandoned any standard etiquette guidelines for behavior on a first date.

So now the real question is, do I keep up the lush act or behave myself this evening??

Since I honestly can't remember if I clicked at all with this guy or not (shocking, I know), I'll just have to wait and see how the date goes. Sometimes these things can be so painful you HAVE to drink yourself into oblivion.

Hopefully I'll have an equally exciting story to share after date #2.

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:

Bring.
It.
On.

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.

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!!

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.

Always the mistress, never the wife?

I used to joke in college that I would always be the mistress and never the wife when all I could find were one-night stands, not serious relationships. It was funny then.

Four years and two long-term relationships later, it's not so funny any more.

Do I have some gene that makes me unmarry-able?

Will I end up like Samantha in SATC, or worse - a 72-year-old single woman with 9,000 cats to keep me company?

Let me back up for a minute - the reason for this pity party is The Hoff and I are on a break. We both decided it would be best to take some time and figure out if we're truly meant for each other.

The more I think about it though, the more I wonder - shouldn't we know by now? Choosing a lifelong partner should not be this hard. I've always heard that when you know, you know. And neither of us do.

We hung out last night, for the first time since we decided to take a break (which was less than a week ago).

Worst idea EVER.

It was his roommate's birthday, so there were tons of other people around. The Hoff and I don't even know how to act around each other right now much less when all our friends are around = most awkward situation I've ever been in.

To make matters worse, one of The Hoff's friends (who is a girl and who I'm not the biggest fan of) showed up. For blogging purposes, I'll refer to her as FTW (Fake Tan Whore). I won't bore you with all the details, but basically I just feel like she never respected my relationship with The Hoff. She's a flirty person, who apparently has a "boyfriend." I say "boyfriend" because I don't think anyone has ever actually met the guy.

Needless to say, I've tried to be as nice as I can to this girl while suppressing the urge to beat her with my 4-inch stilletos. (The grungy ones I used to wear to frat parties. Don't want to ruin a good pair of heels.)

Last night, when The Hoff and I were arguing, she tried to pull me away from him so we could chat. I ignored her. So then she got in my face, called me crazy and went on some tirade about how The Hoff and her are just friends. I walked away.

I could sit here and slam FTW until I'm blue in the face, but at the end of the day, it's not about her. It's about me and The Hoff.

I think we sometimes misplace our hurt anger on the other person, because it's so hard to believe the person we love and care about most in the world would do something to hurt us so badly. But that's the risk you take when you fall in love.

And I'm so hurt by The Hoff right now. I feel like he put FTW above me last night. When we were still together, I kept wondering what she has that I don't to make him want to be so close to her. Is she a better listener? Does she laugh at his jokes more? Does she make him feel more wanted than I do? And what's worse - now that we're on a break, I know that she's the one he's confiding in. It's hard enough to see your ex get close with someone else, but when it's with someone you know doesn't like or respect you, it makes it that much harder.

To FTW: if you happen to stumble upon this (it is easily accessbile thanks to the grand and glorious interwebs), as much as I think you'd like it to be, it's never been about you. May you never have to endure your own significant other getting friendly with someone like you.

To The Hoff: I just want you to be happy. I hope that you find whatever or whoever it is that can make you smile everyday.

I'm a Big Kid Now

I started my new job on Monday.

I now ride the Metro to work, read the newspaper during my 20-minute commute and get this....

I

have

my

own

office!!

With my own window and everything.

Holy shit do I feel official!!

I suddenly feel the need to go out and buy office decor. You know, make it home-y. Maybe even feng-shui my work nest to promote a serene, productive environment. (Ha!)

Let's be real, the more likely scenario is for me to hang posters similar to those gracing the walls in my college dorm room. I.e. pieces of art such as:

and

Yes, that is a poster depicting different kinds of mullets and yes, I actually had this hanging up during my college years. Don't ask me why, but I think mullets are the most hilarious things ever. I even have a code word for when I see them out and about - you can't master the art of mullet hunting without a kick-ass code word.

And of course, I'll also need the obligatory DMB, Animal House and shirtless Paul Walker posters adorning my walls.

I think I'd be the hit of the office and the new favorite employee of the CEO.

The most hilarious thing about my new job though has to be that blogging has helped me. Seriously. I'm editing and posting web content using a program eerily similar to blogger. I never thought blogging would help me in the professional world but I am living, breathing proof that it can.

And I'm pretty sure this job will also help me develop a cooler blog once I start learning more about HTML coding. It's a win-win situation really.

In all seriousness, I'm really excited about this gig. I think it will really broaden my skills and experience and open a lot of new doors for me professionally.

It's an adjustment riding the crowded metro, weaving around the homeless people scattered up and down the streets, paying $10 for lunch and getting used to the all the hustle and bustle of a city. But I think I'm gonna like it. It doesn't hurt that there's a bar at the ground floor of my office. Coincedence? I think not.