Why You Don’t Make Future Plans

Things with Yogi were going well, if becoming a little predictable. After the kiss when I jumped off the deep end, we saw each other often, slipping into a comfortable routine where I got off work as he was going to work, so I got a little down time and then he’d come over after work to hang out (he literally only works for two hours a day, which I kind of thought would bug me, but it’s an awesome job and he’s good and successful at it and does make decent money – and no, he’s not a stripper).

He came to me, he made me laugh, he liked my cooking, he didn’t mind my crazy dog and we could just be. It was nice.

Sex came up once and I brushed it off as too soon, so respectfully he just asked me to tell him when I was ready. I wondered if we were too comfortable and decided we needed to enjoy each other on a real date again before we got busy, then decided that I was really busy on my own and if there was a man I was attracted to who was making it fairly easy for me to get a little loving, that was okay, but we might as well still do the date thing, so on Friday I told him to come over after work and take me to dinner.

Don’t call me a whore, don’t say I’m banging for dinner.  I didn’t need a fancy four-course meal, I just needed to go out. We actually ended up a sports bar watching his college’s basketball team’s season opener. It was nice to have him open my door in the rain (he really was raised right), place his hand on my back with an affectionate rub while we were watching the game and enjoy each other outside of the comfort bubble we were making at my house.

But, back to my house we went, make out we did and eventually I asked if he would wear a condom. (This IS a reasonable request, right?!)

He laughed.

But, said he’d try. WTF does that even mean?!

Four minutes later I realized WTF that even means.

Things got awkward. Not super awkward, he didn’t seem embarrassed or uncomfortable really, but he was definitely wondering how long he had to cuddle before leaving and right as I was about to call him on that, he said, “I’m going to go home now.”

When he left, I wasn’t sad, mad, upset, anything really, maybe just a little stumped.

I’ve had men tell me that basically they like to fuck on a first date to see if there’s sexual chemistry before wasting time or getting into anything “serious” which seems totally stupid, but indicative of what men deem a serious relationship v. what women deem a serious relationship. And now I kind of understand it. But, we had some steamy make out seshes and all systems were go before we attempted this so really, it just baffled me. I really liked him, but that was BAD and I just didn’t know that to do with it.

I sent him a text the next day to prove that things weren’t awkward. He responded and we went back and forth talking about our mornings. And I haven’t heard from him since 😦 Yes, it’s only three days and yes, it’s a two-way street, but I’m taking a stand on men who don’t treat me right and/or who display the classic signs of “he’s just not that into you.”

Anyway, I was really trying to take it one day at a time, but my brain jumps forward and I guess what I’m saying is that I still need to work on calming that down and take it for what it is to avoid this disappointment when those things don’t happen.

With that said, I’m off to a date with Yogi 2.0 (literally, they have the same name, talk about awkward) that I’m kinda excited about, but totally pretending I’m not.

On Being a Booty Call

On Friday night/Saturday morning at 3am. On Monday night at 8pm.

Friday night was sexy time – lingerie the whole deal – even though I was asleep when the request text came in (and I’m going to defend myself here saying we had plans to meet up that night, but he ended up winning big at the casino until that late, but I’m not sure that makes this story “better”).

Monday was a little more unexpected and required a quick shave, but then a cute, casual look. As I was putting my comfy pants over my booty shorts and a tank top with the girls flying free underneath, I thought the outfit said cool, casual, hanging out, not trying too hard.

In case the outfit didn’t say it loud enough, I told myself, “I’m going to go over there and let him know I’m not a booty call. Yes, I’ll sleep with him, but I’m going to make it clear that I’m NOT a booty call.”

And then this annoying voice came out of nowhere and responded back to me, “If you’re not a booty call then don’t act like one.”

An aha moment indeed.


Somewhere out there, some poor man is not getting his oh-my-god-my-girlfriend-wore-heels-to-bed-and-we-had-the-sex-I-am-going-to-fantasize-about-at-least-until-the-next-time-she-does-something-amazingly-hot sex.  Because he is hiding from me.

My awesome second October bride bought and sent all of her bridesmaids shoes for the wedding.  She wanted us to be matchy-matchy mostly for the ceremony and pictures.  

I was excited when the sexy 4.5″ heels arrived at my door, the perfect pick-me-up for a Monday!  Although beyond wearing them around the house, I guess I kind of have to wait FIVE months to wear them…why do people have such long engagements?!

In an email chain that looped in a few of the other bridesmaids, I thanked the bride for the fuck-me heels and let her know that any single groomsmen didn’t stand a chance.

Another bridesmaid friend seconded that, but I’m not sure she really meant it.  Her groomsman boyfriend actually ASKED her to wear them to bed and she said she just glared at him.

So, here’s my question…why does SHE get a boyfriend if she’s not even going to play with him?

Okay. I’m feeling bitterly single these days.  I see plenty of fat, ugly women with horrible personalities* in seemingly loving relationships and can’t help but wonder what is wrong with me. 

Recently I caught SATC while on the treadmill and it was an episode around the beginning of Charlotte and Trey’s relationship.  The day after, while feeling down, I realized I needed to channel my inner Charlotte. 

She wants love, someone special and ultimately to get married, but note that sandwiched in there was “someone special.”  And yeah, she FUBARed it the first time around, but I dig her dating style.  She’s demure, but didn’t put up with shit just for the sake of having someone adore her. 

There’s nothing wrong with me aside from the fact that I know what I deserve and I’m going for, er, waiting for it.

*I say this because “you think I’m fat and ugly with a horrible personality” is a thing with this group of wedding ladies.  I can admit that I can be judgemental, but mostly my thoughts when I see happy couples are not that specific. They are more along the lines of, “Really?  Her?” Kinda like when, in a moment of weakness, I FBed TGISWOTSD and saw him with a particularly plain looking gal. Whatever tickles your pickle, dude.

Abstinence is a pain in the neck.

I have been to two chiropractors four times in a week and a half.  My back/shoulder/neck is still in just as much pain as it was when I started.  I moved my desk around so that there’s 0% strain to work at my computer.  I’ve been hitting the Advil pretty hard and spent much of this morning researching acupuncture and cupping before settling on a deep tissue massage.

As I was prone on the table listening to the masseuse’s mix CD turned up awkwardly loud to drown out the sounds of the gym that the clinic was attached to (and also listening to the sounds of the gym  because the CD wasn’t working), I wondered just how many 26-year-old women end up on that table because they’re on the cusp of breaking their very own no-sex record.

I usually just say I carry a lot of stress in my shoulders and that every now and then I need someone to help me pull them away from my ears (meaning the chiropractor, not a tall, dark and handsome man and his penis) but it’s bad this time around and that’s the only thing I can think of!

Sex not only helps reduce stress, the oxytocin and endorphins released during the mattress mambo are pain reducers as well.  Hello!  Need some of that in my life.

I’ve debated back and forth between doing it just to do it and holding out for another six months and throwing a party to commemorate my first year as a born again virgin.

Luckily for me, until one wins out, I learned a long time ago that exercise releases endorphins, endorphins make you happy and happy people don’t kill their husbands.  They just don’t.  Hopefully happy people also don’t need to keep spending $150 weekly on medical treatment. 

Condoms are much cheaper.  A LOT of condoms are still much cheaper.  That’s A LOT of sex + oxytocin + endorphins. 

However, since oxytocin has this other, more obnoxious effect on me, tonight I’m just going with beer, a heating pad and my favorite new show, Happy Endings.

War of Words

I happen to be adorable and innocent.  I use words like lovely and delight and precious.  I don’t interrupt.  Sometimes I’m too polite shy to even ask for the restroom.  I wear dresses. I wear cardigans.  I’d say it’s all a farce, meant to throw people off.  But it’s not.  That’s who I am. 

And so is this:

I wrote a friend an email the other day and I used the word bang.  Actually, it was in the subject and she wrote her response and then wrote me again to say, “PS, I loved the subject of that message, haha.”  Don’tjudgeus.

Anyway, I think it’s catching on.  Please enjoy:

My last two boyfriends used the word bang a lot (among other things to describe the act, not all of which were completely crude) and at first I was a little put off.  The sheltered princess in me came out, my eyes widened and I thought, “hmm, he just said THAT.”

Then I kinda started to like it and I have apparently added it to my list of words I like simply because they’re a little crude. 

I would now like to teach you how to be crude and still be cute.  It’s all in the delivery.  Say the crude words like you own them and you will.  Say them and laugh like you did when you were nine and anyone said, “do it” or look around for your mom to scold you and you don’t own it and your crude word privileges will be taken away.  Also, it helps if you’re wearing a cardigan.

My mom’s favorite thing to say when she heard her 13- and 14-year-old students swear was, “why would you let something so ugly come out of such a pretty face?”  As an English teacher, she thought there were plenty of other words to express yourself without having to use swear words, curse words, BAD words or words that are just kinda crude. 

Her dad (my grandpa, come on, keep up, here) was named Richard and went by Dick.  I’m not sure when I discussed peni (yes, the plural for penis) with her, but she was not a fan of that slang word either.  And pissed.  She hated when we used pissed.  To be honest, I think it kinda pissed her off – not that she would have said so.

But even she has even learned to accept my inclination toward a vocabulary that would make a sailor blush. I’m more a believer in that words are just words.  Yes, there’s a time and place and I do have a censor button, but I don’t think saying bang or even singing and finding humor in The Bang Bang Song changes who I am and my mom realizes that if an occassional f-bomb is the worst thing about me, she did a pretty good job.

What do you do that people don’t necessarily expect?

What do you call that “special hug that two adults who love each other very much” share?

The Off(ish) Week(ish)

So what did I do while on my technology sabbatical?

1.  I sucked at taking a technology sabbatical, but each day got better (until I gave up altogether and ended it early) and I think it will be easier to lessen my use day-to-day now. And I know better what it will take to truly take an unplug week when I’m ready to try again.

2.  I totally drained my legs with the 12-miler on Saturday + a 6-miler on Sunday so switched around my training for the rest of the week (keeping the distances and runs, just exchanging rest days) and rocked out my peak week of training.

3.  I fell in love with my Garmin Forerunner 305.

4.  I had my first fight with Rebel.  Catalyst: Me still holding out (actually, for him I do believe it was about sex, for me, I was attempting a DTR talk because sex and the R – relationship – go together).  I learned that he’s a horrible fighter.  He wasn’t much for listening to or attempting to understand what I was saying and super-awkwardly left before any real discussion could be had.  Outcome:  Validation of my decision.   

5.  I realized there’s a difference between someone with whom you want to hang out and someone with whom you want to combine lives, which I guess I knew, but again…validation.

6.  Had another date with Mr. No Name on which he was determined to prove he wasn’t conservative and could be more than a friend.  Fail, first of all, but then he got post-date balls.  Via text he was all, “damn we should still be hanging out,” and I was all, “well then you should have stumbled your way through some kind of awkward invite to a phase two because now it’s too late and I’m on my couch in my ugly single-lady PJs and my tummy is happily full of sushi and vodka I didn’t have to pay for.”

7.  I had another first date with another POF guy. I found out that someone who has “non-douche” as their headline IS, in fact, a douche, but of a weird variety.  I deleted the last batch of “[insert rando’s name] pof”s from my phone because the ratio of guys who do online dating because they are socially retarded to guys who do online dating because they are normal, but busy/new to the area is about 5:1 (from my research) and that’s just a numbers game I’m sick of playing. 

8.  I heard from TGISWOTSD again.  Re:  hot dogs.  Again.  His interests seemed much more diverse when we were dating, I swear.  Again, maybe he’s testing the waters of friendship, but seeing his email addy, my heart flutters and wonders if he misses me and realizes we were great and it’s worth an actual try.  Ugh.

9.  I packed my fridge and pantry with real food so my apartment no longer looks like a bachelor lives there.  And yes, this is packed for a single girl.  I spent way too much time thinking about how to use it all!

10.  I totally blew my food budget (but that’s why I built in flexibility elsewhere).

11.  I ate well. (This is homemade pizza amazingness, part 2!)

12.  I accepted that I will never be a photog or foodie blogger (but I started a wellness blog that will have a food aspect)!

13.  I added some big dreams to my bucket list because I’ve really seen the power of writing down and going after some of the things I want recently and I’m in a big WHY NOT mood.

14.  I actually wrote down THE list (of traits I’m looking for in a man).  Again, why not?

15.  I went out on a school night.  As in like, don’t even start getting ready until 9 kind of out.  It was a friend’s last night in town and I’m glad I did, but I’m paying for it today!

Having a Boyfriend Is No Excuse to Dress Like a Slob…or Is it?

NOT that I have a boyfriend.  That title is just moving too fast.  From henceforth, I shall refer to him as “the guy I slept with on the second date after knowing he existed for a week but only actually knowing him for three days” because THAT’S not moving too fast, but calling him my boyfriend after a month of seeing each other almost every day, two days being the max time apart because he went on a four-day trip, but I saw him the morning he left and the night he came back, now THAT is too fast.

Got that?  Good.  Now moving on.

When I met TGISWOTSDA- KHEFAWBOAKHFTD I was wearing a skirt.  On our first date, I wore a skirt.  On the infamous second date, I wore a dress. Basically, we live in an amazing climate and dresses and skirts are my go-to just about year-round. 

A few weeks in (also known as a few weeks ago), I worried that I was coming off as high maintenance by wearing such girly things all the time because so many people associate dresses with being dressy and rarely understand how low-key they actually are. 

However, after one of our romps, I redressed with amazing speed and he became a believer and now fully agrees that dresses are the best thing to happen to women’s wardrobes since the thong (although, this begs the question of which came first…the ass-hugging dress or the panty-line-reducing g-string?).

So, then I started worrying that I was setting the bar too high, since dresses are indeed cute, sexy AND low maintenance.  What happens when mama wants to wear jeans or hasn’t shaved her legs?  Just kidding, non-boyfriend, I will ALWAYS shave my legs because I will ALWAYS be ready for one of our amazing sessions.

a sweatshirt dress is the obvious solution

The other night, post-stressful day and post-spin class, I was craving some sweats.  I was also heading to his house to make dinner and catch up on some DVR, which are totally sweats-appropriate activities, but I worried…are we THERE?  First worried that we WEREN’T and he would be horrified that I downgraded so quickly from flirty skirts to sweats, then worried that we WERE and had sped through dating-stage and got to sweat-stage so fast.

It was then that I realized that you’re only at sweat-stage if you choose to be.  And that T*Party yoga pants work wonders for BOTH the ass-loving man and the comfort-loving woman.