update

did i tell you i went out the other night with S, Tyrant T (as my mom would call her), Bowtie Date, and TT's lesbian friend H?

overheard H leaning in and asking S:
So, my girlfriend and I debate this constantly. Who do you think is hotter, The Southerner or J?

i've never laughed so hard in my life than thinking about the two of them sitting around talking about the relative hotness of these boys.

just fyi

there is no real update on my suspicions (SUSPICIONS), though they seem (note: SEEM) unconfirmed/ unfounded/ irrational.

he has been acting with 85% normalcy, though we have no longer been exchanging the "good night" phone calls or texts. or even good morning's for that matter. shit, this might be going downhill.

up in the air for tonight, potential hanging out as a group.

fuck.

couple of the week

i love them. the sitting on the couch thing brings tears to my eyes.

(but what do you think they mean by "his first date ever"?!)

Aphrodisiac Professions

1. Architect
(This boy would be your mother's dream. Last night he made me ooh and ahh by architect-name-dropping and showing me photos of houses he designed. Creative but financially stable. Architects = hot, tell your dad to watch out.)

2. Anything that requires a Blackberry, brown shiny shoes, and a suit.
(This is such an Electra Complex that I think I need to move on right away.)

no words

so so sorry for texting you last night! Hope I wasn't TOO much of a pain.

This situation is making me act like a crazy person. Met The Southerner and his roommates (not The Psycho) for a movie. He surprised me with yellow-cake Hostess cupcakes (obviously, best enjoyed with Diet Coke) but the whole time I wondered why he wasn't holding my hand.

Out to dinner, after the movie, during Sancerre and G&T's, we became enmeshed in one of Those Conversations.

Me: I hate how I've been acting lately, and I can't figure out why and I can't stop myself.
Him: Lots of things are up in the air for you now. You feel insecure. You feel unsettled.

Hard to hear, but true.

We sat there for hours. We closed down the restaurant.

But what I couldn't say, because I'm still too scared, and because I'm afraid of ruining things, and because I was too drunk to articulate it properly...

Yes. I'm not living the life that I thought I would be. Things ARE unsure, things are uncertain, things are up in the air. It DOES make me feel insecure. But this.. relationship is the embodiment of that. I hate having to worry about what to call you when I RSVP for my office Christms party, or what if my dad accidentally introduces you to someone as my boyfriend when we visit NY next weekend, or whether inviting you to do X activity is too "couple-y."

....

clearly, I still don't even know what I'm trying to say.

Would You Date A Guy Who...

(...prompted by pondering my dealbreakers, what I've put up with in the past, what I'd be willing to work with and what I'd never be willing to settle for... This is in no particular order!)

Would You Date A Guy Who...
- expressed no interest in performing oral sex?
- was truly terrible at oral sex?
- maintained contact with his exgirlfriend?
- slept in the same bed as a roommate?
- cuddled with a fat girl named Maura while drunk?
- read your email clandestinely?
- wore charcoal-grey boxer briefs with bright red trim (aka QLU's, or Queer Little Underpants)?
- loved his mother so much he speaks to her every morning and every night?
- was 7 years older than you?
- was 13 years older than you?
- refused to call you his girlfriend?
- you didn't know if he was Asian or Jewish?
- wasn't Jewish?
- was the son of Catholic missionaries?
- went to therapy 1x a week and group therapy 2x a week?
- believed in aliens?
- liked hiking?
- one of your best friends didn't like?
- liked your hair better straight than curly? (Note, may only apply to me)
- liked you better in glasses than contacts? (Note, it may mean he is blind.)
- insisted he liked you better when you were "fatter"?
- only ate ham & cheese on white bread, cut in triangles, with mayo?
- believed that black people are stupider than white people?

This might be my new fun game. Your turn!

One Sided

Remember, a couple of weeks ago, when I said I had to talk to you? And then we put it off because your parents were coming to town, because we didn't want conflict, because we slept together, because things were going so well?

Yeah, then. I think we still need to talk.

I know, we we were just going to spend the night cooking and watching a movie and having sex. It was going to be our own private Thanksgiving, since we can't spend the holiday together. It still can be... but later.

I know, it sounds worse than it is, really. It always sounds bad, when someone says they need to talk. But I do. Need to talk, I mean.

I guess it's been a few things that have made me realize that I need to do this.

Well, like last Friday, for example. When I came home after sharing a bottle of Sancerre with Z, who had been in Argentina for two months, and you met me here. We talked about our nights, and you asked if I had told Z "about us." It was dark, so maybe you couldn't see how I wrinkled my face, and it was late, so maybe you couldn't hear that I wasn't just kidding when I said quietly, "Well, what would I tell her?"

No, really, what would I tell her? You and I have been sleeping together exclusively? We've been dating, we've been making each other laugh, we've been text messaging all day long, we've been fucking eachother, we haven't been fucking other people?

Or a couple of weeks ago, when we were walking back from the bar, when I ran away dramatically, slowly, so you would catch me. And everyone else walked ahead of us, beating us to your house by half an hour, but we ambled down side streets and not-so-shortcuts so we could finish our conversation, and you worried about whether my new boots were hurting my feet. (They weren't. I might be stronger than you think.) You yelled at me then, "It's like you're always just waiting for me to fuck you over! Like you interpret everything I do like this might be it, this might be the time I fuck you over." And you were so right. I do. I am. You reassured me that you care about me, that you like me, that you have fun with me.

But I feel like that's not enough to make me feel sure. I don't generally think of myself as an insecure person. Really, I don't. But this lack of clarity around... us... it makes me feel unsure. It makes me act like a person I don't want to be.

And also? You've said to me, offhandedly, at least three times. "I'm worried about this moving too fast." I just want to understand, for you, what does "too fast" mean? What is the right speed?

No, I'm really not angry with you.

I'm not! I just want to understand.

I have such a good time with you. You know that. I hope you know that. You should know that. It's not even that I want things to change! I don't know what I want, except to know more about what this is, how you see this.

Are we like X and Y?

No, it's a serious question. Are we?

Well, how are we not? We sleep together, we hang out, we like spending time together...

I'm not trying to be difficult. How are we not just fuck buddies? Or buddies who fuck?

Fine, then what are we?

Really, I want to know! In your opinion, what are we?

I have no idea! We act in ways that, in past relationships, I would act if I were someone's girlfriend. We talk every morning and every night, we text during the day, I've met your parents, I talk about you to mine, we hold hands in the park, you kiss me on the cheek in front of people and stand to greet me when I enter the room, you rearrange seats so you can sit next to me...

I know I'm not your girlfriend. So what am I?

another study that proves what we might have already known

Men bad for women's waistlines

Women who cohabit may put on weight as a consequence

A UK obesity expert has analysed why it is that women who move in with their man often put on weight as a result.

Eating man-sized portions and indulging in richer foods and wines can lead to weight gain, a review in The Lancet medical journal says.

When you combine that with going on the contraceptive pill or having babies, a woman's waistline can severely suffer, says author Dr David Haslam.

"Men are very bad for women really," he said.


If you are eating with a partner the evening meal is a social event...you may eat more and maybe more extravagant stuff
Dr Haslam

He said research showed women tend to gain weight once they cohabit and begin to share meals with men who intrinsically have higher energy needs and therefore appetites.

"If you are eating with a partner the evening meal is a social event and its no longer just filling a gap. You may eat more and maybe more extravagant stuff."

The weekly shopping list may change from the basic fruit and veg to include indulgent treats.

Couples may go out to restaurants for meals more often.

Women may do less exercise when they are in a relationship, skipping a trip to the gym to spend quality time with their partner.

Multiple insults

The contraceptive they chose to use can also have an impact.

The Pill, taken by 3.5 million British women, has been associated with a slight weight gain among some users, on average 4lb in the first three months.

Repeated pregnancies can also lead to weight gain.

"Each individual factor for weight gain is serious enough but put them all together and you can get a significant increase," said Dr Haslam.

Societal changes mean women may be less physically active than their great-grandmothers were, doing less housework thanks to time-saving gadgets, getting partners to share the load or paying others to do it for them.

Some studies have shown that married couples gain weight while those who divorce lose weight.

Dr Haslam stressed that it was important not to generalise and that being in a relationship had numerous positive influences and gains too.

He said the important thing was for individuals to look at their own lifestyles and make healthy changes if they needed to.

Obesity has been shown to decrease life expectancy by seven years at the age of 40.

Meet The Parents

Yes, I did.

Well, actually, I really only met his father. (Mom was sick and stayed at the hotel.)

sort of anticlimactic, in truth.

Evil T was there, too, so I was distracted by her presence, not working perhaps as hard as I should to wow/woo him.

He was nice, he was funny, he made some wildly inappropriate jokes (dirty humor, not racist) and cracked me up. I liked watching The Southerner interact with him, because they're incredibly close, and he seems so comfortable. For the record, I'm adding to the list of things I want in a guy: "Has a great relationship with his parents."

dear amicus (r.i.p.), remind me why suicide is not an option

• ExBoy now has new cuddling/happy photos posted with a Seriously Unattractive Girl on facebook.
  
• The one guy I genuinely like (The Southerner) is apparently considering getting back together with his ex-girlfriend. (Why oh why didn't I listen to you from the beginning?!)
• Work seriously sucks yet they refuse to fire me and I want to find another job before I quit.
• T has sabotaged my social life.
• I am enormous and can't flip the healthy switch.
• My birthday is quickly approaching and I am getting OLD.
  

ManShopping

although C. Beet's night was apparently AWFUL, I have to say, mine was great.

Inspired by this ridiculous article, the latest in my "man-shopping" (as BoyOfSummer calls it).

1. Ritzy temple's 20's and 30's RoHa services. (Will let you know how it goes. Fingers are crossed that the stars will align, as this temple is within a block of Harvard Medical School and therefore may be just the place to find the Jewish-doctor-husband my grandparents dream of.)
2. Roomate's coworkers. Untapped resource. Last night was a house party which somehow lent itself brilliantly to circulating around among four guys, rather than being tied to a guy at a bar who buys you a drink (God I hate that).
3. Gym. Pro: They like you when you're sweaty. Con: They see you sweaty.

update on The Friend

so apparently The Friend *did* ask K's ex for my number, but K's ex "dropped the ball" and didn't give it to him. Until two days ago, when he did. And still, no call.

And yet I'm still imagining traipsing all around the city with my Summer Love-to-be. Meeting after work for a cold beer & a sunset on my roofdeck. Weekends at his house on the Cape. Dinner at all the restaurants I've starred in Zagat's. Cobblestones in the North End. Double dates with A and The Wasp.

Sigh. This is why girls are crazy.

(Note: The Friend is perhaps a misnomer. He is not *my* friend. He is the friend of my best friend's exboyfriend. Please try to keep up.)

passover redux

If He had not kept his hand on the small of my back all night long.
Dayenu: It Would Have Been Enough.

If He had not said we would go out.
Dayenu: It Would Have Been Enough.

If He had not tried to get in the cab with us.
Dayenu: It Would Have Been Enough.

If He had not said it was perfect, fortuitous, lucky that we found each other.
Dayenu: It Would Have Been Enough.

If He had asked me on a date.
Dayenu: It Would Have Been Enough.

If He had called me.
Dayenu: It Would Have Been Enough.

If He had asked me for my phone number.
Dayenu: It Would Have Been Enough.

If He had asked K's ex for my phone number.
Dayenu: It Would Have Been Enough.

If He had facebook messaged me.
Dayenu: It Would Have Been Enough.

If He had not been so cute.
Dayenu: It Would Have Been Enough.

Dayenu. Dayenu. Dayenu.
He's just not that into you.

(Singing Dayenu optional.)

*I give up. I have no idea about boys. No fucking clue.

Death (to me, anyway) of The Man

Grapefruit juice with Skyy citrus and a splash of Freca, crudo misto, a nice oaky glass of Chardonnay, orechiette with creme fraiche and smoked salmon. I could get used to this dating thing. At dinner, I kept thinking: I could DEFINITELY be into being single & dating people all about town. I might get fat on wonderful dinners (for the record, when I know I'm going out I'd rather eat nothing all day/the previous two days and then be able to indulge on whatever I want for dinner than eat diet food for two days straight and get a paltry little salad at a resto) but I think I'd be happy. Fabulous conversation, ran into his friends who were all "so glad to finally meet you!" etc etc etc (yes, after 2.5 dates. Wait. It gets weirder!), lovely all around. Apparently I had forgotten that dating does not just = wining&dining but also hooking-up and the ensuing awkwardness. Note to self.

Next stop: wine, cheese, dessert. Next stop: Dirty Ketel One martini with blue-cheese-stuffed-olives. Next stop: My apartment. He drives me home. Leans in to kiss me in the car outside my building. I turn my head, he kisses my hair, I sprint out yelling THANKS and run upstairs! He calls me 30 seconds after, ranting and raving and basically just berating me.

The Man: I don't understand blahblahblah mixed signals blahblahblah you said you wanted to kiss me blahblahblah I really like you blahblahblah.
Me: How are you going to wait all night, not invite me to your apartment, and then try to kiss me in YOUR CAR with my neighbors watching?!
TM: [Continued berating] You should have invited yourSELF to my apartment.
Me: How ridiculous!
etc etc etc.

Somehow it culminating with me throwing a trenchcoat on over my sweatpants, hunting down a cab who thought I was an escort, showing up at his apartment, spending the night sleeping but no "sleeping with," fully-clothed, the worst hook-up in the history of the world.

Can we please enroll this guy at U(niversity of)G(etting)A(ss), or the C.H.S(choolof)O(ral)S(ex)*? No wonder he's still single at 35! (Also, please note, he is balding.) Apparently the elite New England prep schools are teaching their students nothing but how to give purple nurples (Deerfield, Exeter, Choate). My left nipple is like a bloody mess and it is seriously painful. His tongue was thrusting inside my mouth like a lizard except it was more fat and disgusting than a lizard tongue could ever hope to be, and I just was MISERABLE but felt like I should just get it over with until finally I couldn't take it anymore and I pretended to be offended that he tried to put his hand down my pants and rolled over and ignored him.

Worst. Date. Ever.

*Disclaimer: not that I'd know.

SOS m'aidez SOS

The Man just invited me over to watch a movie (rainy, cold, my broker is showing my apartment all afternoon so I'm haunting coffee shops left & right).

We have not had to deal with the Kiss issue at all, because after our first night of hanging out (drinks), he walked me home and then left. After our second night (dinner), he drove me home, parked in front of my building, and before there could be any awkwardness, a car pulled up behind him (one way road), I thanked him, popped out of the car, he drove away, end of story.

Do I even WANT to kiss him?! Is it totally sketchy to go to his apartment?! Does it imply that I WANT to kiss him?!

lyricizing

have been listening to this song on repeat. No, really. Because my ipod is frozen, it will only play this one song. I guess there are worse songs it could be stuck on (for example, I do have Wannabe, by the Spice Girls loaded onto my ipod). But now I've listened to it so much that it has sort of become my anthem and every line is starting to ring true.

What I want to say: I love you. I miss you. I'll follow you to Philadelphia. I'll follow you to Botswana. I'll follow you anywhere, because you make me happy.

What I actually say: Things are pretty good. Am I dating? Well, yeah, I guess.. but nothing serious.

It's true. I am. (Thursday pm, Dinner Plans.) But it's not the whole truth. There's so much of it that I'm not saying.

I drink good coffee every morning
Comes from a place that's far away
And when I'm done I feel like talking
Without you here there is less to say
I don't want you thinking I'm unhappy
What is closer to the truth
That if I lived till I was 102
I just don't think I'll ever get over you
I'm no longer moved to drink strong whisky
'Cause I shook the hand of time and I knew
That if I lived till I could no longer climb my stairs
I just don't think I'll ever get over you
Your face it dances and it haunts me
Your laughter's still ringing in my ears
I still find pieces of your presence here
Even after all these years
But I don't want you thinking I don't get asked to dinner
'Cause I'm here to say that I sometimes do
Even though I may soon feel the touch of love
I just don't think I'll ever get over you
If I lived till I was 102
I just don't think I'll ever get over you

awful

me, at 7:41 am:
Wow, I just remembered that Ex-Boy called last night while I was in the shower. Guess I should call him back tonight. That is SO great that I am only JUST thinking of it! I am definitely headed in the right direction! I am moving on! Yahoo.

me, at 7:42 am:
Let me check facebook before I get my busy day started.

me, at 7:43 am:
I can't breathe. I have never felt so disrespected in my entire life.

Beet, please go check his facebook picture, and then prepare to eulogize me should I go the way of Amicus.

hair today gone tomorrow

I've decided that my past relationships can be classified according to how they preferred my hair. It says a lot about a guy.

Jolie: Straight. But it was in hs, and I wore it straight every day. He didn't know any better, I don't think. *Amended: Staight but it flipped up at the ends, sort of unintentionally, like 1950's Nancy Drew.
W with a Girl's Name: Straight (fits in better at the country club. And could I dye it blond, too, by the way?)
Two First Names: Straight. But his favorite meal was ham&cheese&mayo on white bread with no crusts. What can you expect?
Manorexic C: Straight. Uncomplicated. Like our relationship.
C of Pro/Con Infamy: Either/or. He liked running his hands through it when straight. But we had better sex when it was curly.
ExBoy: Curly crazy. I feel like he loved me most as me.

selected p/c's from the ccc

pros:
Cute
Big room
Big bed
Blue eyes
Great body/ athletic
Makes me laugh/ funny
Pillow sharer
Spooning/ good cuddler
Intelligent
Likes Gwyneth
Doesn’t hold grudges
Perfect height
“Package too large for box”
Great on paper
Jewish
Not cheesy
Likes my stomach
Comfortable with him
Told his mom about me
Confident/ not insecure

cons:
Cuter than me?
Terrible communication
No commitment
Always wants to hang out with his friends, never mine
Secretive re: family, past. FBI agent?
Wouldn’t lend me sweatpants
Don’t know if he really likes me
Didn’t come to my birthday party
No Xmas present
Doesn’t discuss emotions
Potentially Alcoholic
Doesn’t want to talk about it when he’s mad
“Package too large for box”
Has lost the ability to converse (possibly related to sex?)

the bell jar

Last week, the exBoy called me to wish me a happy un-anniversary. I know it sounds heartless. Really I don't think it was intended as such, more just to recognize that on a certain day every month for the past 2 and a half years, we have talked to eachother & commemorated the occasion, and we were of course still thinking of one another even though we were no longer together. But it did have sort of a sad, slightly insensitive feel to it. He called while I was out with my girlfriends getting drinks.

I came back to the table feeling a bit down (okay, eyes noticeably watering).

"What's wrong?" they ask.

Me: "He just called.. to wish me a happy un-anniversary!"

Them, in unison: "What?!" "Are you serious?!" "Why?!" (I love my friends.)

"I need another cocktail" I whimper.

"Waitress! Get this girl another extra dirty martini with extra blue-cheese stuffed olives! It's an emergency." (S, of course.)

As the bartender is shaking the cocktail from behind the bar, my loopy hippy dippy friend D, clad entirely in leopard print (no lie) and jewelry the size of, roughly, a watermelon asks me what ExBoy's sign is.

"Leo," I say.

"WHAT?!" she cries out in horror. "But... but you're a Scorpio!"

"Yeah, so?" The cocktail has arrived. I take a salty sip. Perfect.

"Those are the two worst matched signs in the entire zodiac!" she screeches. "That's why SYLVIA PLATH KILLED HERSELF. Do you hear me? She stuck her head in the OVEN because Ted Hughes was a Leo and she was a Scorpio."

I munch on a blue-cheese stuffed olive, contemplating. "I don't know if I believe in all that, though."

"Listen. Scorpio women nurture, and Leo men want to be in the spotlight. They suck up all the Scorpio's nurturing energy and they don't appreciate her! They take her for granted!" She's picking up steam here. "Listen to the Scorpio-woman/ Leo-man couples. Arnold Schwarzennager and Maria Shriver! Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath! And... and... Bill and Hillary Clinton! It's lucky you got out when you did! Now, who you really should be dating is a Capricorn or a Cancer!"

For the rest of the night, whenever I wanted to drunkenly call him, the girls reminded me that I didn't want to end up like Sylvia Plath, now did I?