Category Archives: Single

Office Christmas Party turned Night Club

Have you ever been at a club begging your nearest friend to text the other group of friends who got separated from you at a dive bar,  because you really just want to hook up with one particular person but are far too ashamed to admit it to your friends?

So now you have to make up weird shit about why that group needs to meet up with your group like “Tanya is just a really great dancer, I need a really good dancer to dance with” or “Todd made me a bet that I wouldn’t dance on the bar so you need to get him over here so I can prove him wrong.” I wasn’t so quick on my feet last night so I used “tell Luke to come over here because I want to see how drunk his friend is.” Yeah not my best.

6 hours ago I was not thinking about Luke and was actually hyper focusing on what to wear to the work Christmas party because my newest crush, The Consultant, was going to be there. She ultimately did not show up, leaving my perfectly crafted ensemble to impress no one, and it wasn’t until me and my coworkers had left the party, walked the streets of downtown and  landed in a dive bar, that I was told that Luke was joining us in 5 minutes.

Luke, also a coworker, whom I’ve had varying degrees of speculation that he could be interested in me but usually pairing it with knowledge that I tend to create something out of nothing at all (examples such as being in the same room at the same time or them saying they also get iced coffee at Starbucks).  I’ve fallen under the charms of some of Luke’s flattery at times but usually snap out of it under 3 minutes, reminding myself how young he is or asking myself what if The Consultant found out we hooked up and thought (much) less of me?

But here we are now at this bar and he comes directly for me, trying to convince me to share a drink with him. People let me tell you it takes 5 seconds for me to realize that I am READY. Call it reaching my peak horniness level that week, call it disappointment that The Consultant did not make it to the Christmas party, call it that I looked good and no one else was noticing. Call it what you like but I was in the mood for a mistake.

Not 20 minutes later my group is moving to the night club, hence my hysterics about getting the other group to come too. But alas the night is growing cold, aka my buzz is wearing off, and I am Lyfting home disappointed yet a teensy bit grateful? I mean had our groups not separated I would be preparing myself for an awkward Monday morning at the office, where I enhance the narrative that I drank a lot even when my coworkers swear only saw me drink 3 beers. I still didn’t have a plan about that beyond “Oh you didn’t see me down those 4 shots? You must have been in the bathroom.”

This morning I wake up to a text message from my coworker, stating that she and Luke had hooked up after the club last night. Mind you this is the same coworker that I asked to text Luke multiple times last night to come to the club, under made up reasons.  There is something about unexpected bruised feelings that makes it really hard to reply right away, in the way you know you should be replying.  I am ashamed to say that my first text back to her was “the Luke we work with?” Yes yes, eye-roll emojis for days, I am ridiculous blah blah. That 8th grade brain just kicked in and underneath the veil of confusion and naivety is basically jealously yelling “But I thought he was into ME!”

As I quickly begin to ascend my throne of judgment (probably my favorite chair in the house) I reflect upon what a weak minded idiot Luke is. Sentences form such as oh he just goes for ANYONE then, got it.  I continue to bask in the glory of the better person I most certainly am and it takes me probably like 2,000 seconds to realize I JUST DID THE SAME THING.

I had 10 hours ago tried to hook up with Luke despite my feelings for our other coworker and had pushed all concerns about my future with her aside, in the name of attention and some ass.

We’re all just drunk and single and want what we want when we want it, which is very hard to explain to an 8th grader, who is lost in the effects of “betraying” our one true love. 8th graders think they know what hormones are but are not remotely prepared for adult-drinking level hormones. I try to tell my 8th grade-brain that it’s similar to the way you feel so cool and great when smoking a cigarette AND you can actually go out and get more, no one will even card you (mostly).

So after being irritated for the whole morning, I wonder if my judgment with Luke for hooking up with our coworker despite his (possible) attraction to me is really about me judging ME, about trying to hook up with someone that isn’t The Consultant. Having to now remind myself that I am not a BAD person. The Consultant and I are not dating and I’ve been working on building a friendship with her and getting to know her, but the 8th grader in me is determined to plague us with guilt about being attracted to people who are also drunk and single, for what? I don’t even know if The Consultant is a cat person yet!

Maybe it is time to step out of my 8th grade body and into my 30 year old one, you know, reality! Also maturity would be fantastic because we draw for Secret Santa in 4 days…. wish me luck!

 

 

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Dating & Robots

My latest dating app-binge landed me with over four planned dates in one weekend span and a heart rate that wouldn’t let up. That’s a lot of coffee in two days!

Caffeine overdosing aside, you can guess how this went.

I’m 32% sure I went out with a robot. On our first date the weekend prior, I thought he was nervous. I should question the leeway I give people on first dates. If I’m nervous but can still act normal then so can other HUMANS.

I also entertained the possibility that this was a social experiment and/or I was on a TV show. Maybe I’m correct in assuming he is a robot but the real test is how long do I stay on the date, could determine my own gullibility. Are people shouting to me “HOW DUMB ARE YOU?!” on Twitter as we speak?

Only twelve minutes in and I was creeped the fuck out. I would tell a delightful anecdotal story and he would say “ha ha wow that’s crazy.” Just as he had done the other four times. Picture a person saying “ha ha”  the EXACT way you read it. Shivers up my spine. I contemplated throwing half my drink out in the bush when he wasn’t looking because I felt like I had to be completely uninhibited in case this particular robot was given a mission or something. How do I know that I’m not a key player in it’s plan for world dominance? and also the sooner the drinks are empty the sooner the date is over?

Placing your body as far away as possible from someone you are sharing a table with is challenging. Another reason for only being 32% sure was that he (it?) was HANDSY. It didn’t even make sense! But perhaps this particular robot has a coding like as soon as he finishes one of his robotic sentences such as “wow that’s funny” the code 6257993 presents, telling his hand to reach exactly 3 centimeters closer to where mine is trying to steer my drink and whole existence to the other side of the country.

While I was googling under the table “what songs put robots to sleep?” my best friend was going on an online date that could be written into a best-selling romantic novel – in the future when meeting people in real life becomes completely out of the question –  and was ACTUALLY excited to be going on a first date.

Her and this guy had matched over a week ago and were talking every hour, on the hour. He was wild about her and the two of them were so excited to meet each other in person that their cellphones were probably both glitching with exclamation point overload. It was possibly the cutest thing I had ever witnessed and probably the only truly positive online dating interaction I’ve ever had anyone tell me about.

Their first date was somehow even BETTER than expected. Chemistry, common interests and the real winner: mutual physical attraction.

The day after their date he texted and canceled their second date but was still texting excitedly, so all appeared normal.

Then he went radio silent for an entire weekend.

It was a complete 180 and was so out of character that even I, the cynic, wondered if he had been killed in a freak accident.

When he did respond on Sunday, to my best friends concerned text of “hey,  you okay?” It was like a different person had his phone. He acted as if she was clingy for texting over the weekend. Not an exclamation point in sight.

Neither my best friend or I having any ability to unravel this, I luckily next day was given this article by Facebook – who knows me better than I know myself and is actually probably a way creepier robot than the one I had drinks with – that provides labels for different types of dating app blow-offs and how to spot them. Link provided here:

https://www.urbo.com/content/signs-that-hes-just-not-that-into-you/

I thought to myself, finally! The revolution!

But then after, realizing, that these are already behaviors I have blogged about for YEARS, but are now being given names and categories and are via app/online dating only. Cancel the revolution, this is a simple history lesson on a very high tech white board.

Not to take this blog post on a tour away from the playful loathing of all men, but the beginning of the article begins with the author stating that she has been in the online-dating game for almost a decade. Whoa! I thought. But then it hit me, I’ve been doing this for awhile too.

My blog is five years old now and my stories cycle around like I’m throwing them in the dryer.  Bad date, drunken night, and over the top analyzing of if a person returns my feelings. I started noticing three months ago that old blogs I had begun following years ago are gone, unused. Few remain and some that do, still blog about the same types of dates, the same types of guys, everything is the same except their age.

I see it even now as I once again look for roommates on Craigslist as friends move out with their significant others. I felt it the other night as I texted a friend about a bartender that I have a crush on. When is the appropriate time to follow him on Instagram? I began to text a friend asking her if one of my brothers friends that I have a crush on is coming out tonight. This all floods me with deja’vu. How many times have I done this? Texted this? Gone for this person? Wanted to go for this person but did nothing instead? This is all the same.

I had to ask myself, Do I do anything different, ever? Am I a robot myself, my brain giving me codes that tell me to do this action now, but which leads me to the same result every single time?

This isn’t to talk shit about online dating, or dating in general. This is my own personal wake up call. I write about it in hopes that if someone else is experiencing this same dating cycle, maybe you know how to get out of it and you could tell me? That’d be super great thanks!

Robots in the movies often learn to love the kid that initially made them a pet,  and then the robots basically have some form of heart-feelings and are different so there is plenty of hope for me, based upon this reference to maybe two animated movies I’ve seen in the past three years.

Headed  to bed now to probably have some nightmares about looking down to find that my hands are now iron wielded claws, thanks for reading folks!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cakes and Categories

One of the hottest women of my acquaintance delivered a cake to me, made for me, just for me this weekend and I feel like the universe is finally getting my voicemails.

Even if I have to watch this girl bring a cake to every one of my coworkers over the next week, this moment still stands in the Top 10 Things I Actually Want to Remember About This Fucking Year.

I asked for her number that same night that she brought the cake in, all in nerves and rambling but received minimal words and mostly smilies via text after and since then I’ve been pretty much all real smiles myself. There are also so many Marie Antoinette quips that I want to make but I don’t even know where to start with them, you all are welcome.

I wish I could stand a little sturdier in my certainty about her being 100% interested, but if you’re like me at all and you’ve placed people into romantic categories, you know that certain categories come with little chance of returned favor, and so when they show up with cakes you can react internally at yourself like this:

It’s a cake you dumb fuck not a date

Jumping to the don’t get your hopes up is such a reflex! As a serial non-dater who hates rejection passionately, I have created categories for self protection, specifically to not find myself reaching for people beyond my reach, if you know what I’m saying.  It’s like universal law, you can’t just go after ANYONE you like, there are rules! Categories! And these categories help me manage expectations.

The categories of crushes are informally ushered in as the following:

The Objects

Don’t think actual objects, think instead the phrase “object of my desire.” Folks in this category are tangible, meaning you touch them, brush shoulders with them, you are in their society. The Objects are people in my groups of friends, coworkers, classmates, neighbors and roommates. You are almost constantly with people in this category and often you show at least a handful of commonalities or shared interests, for example if you’re both around age 26, then drinking would be your main interest and also commonality.  What’s great about crushing on someone in this group? You get to get all tangled up in those feelings all the damn time because if you’re not around this person then you’re at least seeing their witty remarks in group texts. What is sucky? When you get to see them hitting on other people/are asked for help to help them hit on other people.

The Elites

This is basically your highest category, the most unattainable, giving you least reason to exercise any potential hope. These are folks who shouldn’t be seen with you and you wouldn’t expect them to! Call it being rich or just of a higher social class, these folks just feel out of reach and whom you have no intersecting groups or connections with. Those crushes in this group have far superior social graces so they will always be kind to you in passing but who feel more like local celebrities than friends. Elites in my world often times look like a bosses niece or nephew, a trainer contracted to come out to my work for a seminar, an out of town relative to the bride and groom at a wedding, a coworker of a  friend of a friend. In general these people don’t appear too much in my society so seeing them is temporary. What’s great is that those small glimpses leave a lot to the imagination of who they really are and they millions of ways they could fall in love with you, were you a completely different person. What’s sucky is that you might feel that you can’t measure up, that you wore your best skirt but it doesn’t even strike a cord to their level of fashion.

The Runners

This is  a middle ground between the two groups, where people fall a little bit closer to the standards of your particular society however they still are not completely available. Named The Runners because to you, they appear always on the move, always in the lieu of change, and you can’t keep up. Moments with them are fleeting, think of the phrase “sorry, you just missed him.” “sorry, she just stepped out.” That is what this group is like, you are trying to find your footing but the plates spin too fast. Folks in this group are my roommates brother who comes into town for holidays and has a lot of people to catch up with so you take him in in small doses when feasible. It’s your good friends old college friend in the city for the weekend and suddenly you are volunteering as to go to all the group wine tastings, brunches, and drunk mcdonalds trip there are, but then the weekend is over. A symptom of crushing on someone in this group is though it can feel like there is never enough time. You want to impress them, learn about them, but every time they slip back into your world you start over. What’s good about this type of crush is that it saves you from the monotony of your Object crush or Elite crush, and gives you someone to think of and then long for when they leave the next day. The sucky thing is that well they leave just as you’ve made some progress.

My new cake-bringer-gal, whose name is Pearla by the way, is firmly rooted in The Runners category. Though she is on my playing field and becoming more connected to my coworkers she still remains a passing ship for the most part. It’s like going to sit down as someone gets up to leave, that feeling of wishing you had been there two seconds earlier.

Pearla has been my unspoken crush for awhile until I blurted it out to coworkers two months ago and to which they began a silent mission to make me a  more bold version of myself. In truth it is them, my coworkers and their almost annoyingly constant encouragement that made it seem plausible that there could be something between me and someone so engaged in a million other things and seemingly oblivious to me. After much positive feedback from the coworkers, I gave her a drink on the house one time and she brought in pastries for me same day. I then approached her for more conversation that normal and she stayed awhile to stir her coffee a little longer, and  then about two weeks ago she began to ask my coworkers where I was on my nights off.

All that to say that for all the good my categories do at self protection, had I not been encouraged to take a step outside of them, I wouldn’t have this memory of a beautiful girl smiling at me over the top of a cake. I also wouldn’t have a memory of one of the strangest nervous laughs of my life but focusing back on the cake moment, the cake moment!

I do stand by my categories and their usefulness to me specifically but I am glad in this moment that I was pushed out of them. I really do not think that Pearla would have noticed me had I not done some things to get her attention, and I owe it all to my coworkers who see more possibilities than I do and who also love to stir the pot lets be honest, who doesn’t want to see other coworkers get into messy dating scenarios and have things to gossip about for months?

The hardest part might be coming up soon, how do I keep a Runners attention? Our texting has already slipped into some monotony and silence, not having taken a deeper course at all, I may have to step up and formally ask her out, continuing to put myself in her view before she runs off to the next adventure.

If nothing else I have a great memory or two, a little experience with putting myself in someones path, and I might make 2017 the Year of the Cakes! Instead of Year of the Fuckboy,s which was my prior working title, Calories over Asshats? I’ll let you guys know where I land on that, in the meantime, enjoy all the sweets because life is short and romance is all through text anyway!

 

 

Bitter Town, Population: Me

My Spotify is overwhelmed with a recent binge of angry, “he’s a fucktard” music, with an occasional throw in of “I don’t need him” music, with sporadic clamors of “Im going to go out and get some because I’m way hot!” music. None of it changes much of anything but it’s good to have variety!

I thought at almost 29 years old, I’d be leaning towards a more mature set of men, of people in general!

But what if the immature one is me?

Eleven am on a Saturday morning I wake up and craft a plan to seduce a boy 7 hours after sleeping with another.

The “another” is The Dancer, and my date with him the night before was magical. If magic is intrigue with myself for why I stayed on the date and then had sex with him. Maybe I was put under a spell, or better yet a curse with fire and a stone and pieces of hair!

I named him The Dancer because we met while dancing at a club, our eyes lock across a crowded room (six feet away) and me leaving the guy I was dancing with to go to him (my friends had been trying to get him away from me anyway). Love and convenience was in the air!

A week from our first “eye lock” (and dance floor make out session) our now first date comes to a blurry end at 4 am as he made a last grab for my breasts before stumbling into a lyft outside my parents house. Modern romance.

Putting clothes back on and room to order, I pass out and wake up that Saturday morning thinking of Boy Next Door and the limited time I have to make something happen with him before he moves out.

I put on three different lotions but not perfume because I want to smell like a fucking garden exploded but not like I expect to see anyone.

My outfit that took me an hour to put together was the perfect blend  of “I don’t give a shit” and “Yes, I have always been this sexy.”

I take a seat in a comfy chair, kick my legs out relaxed onto the arm of the other sofa, and lie in wait, looking as casual as one can look when trying way too hard to sleep with someone.

Casual reminder, I have literally just slept with someone.

This all feels minor in comparison to what I did the previous morning.

Boy Next Door was mentioning wanting a party to happen, so I made one up.

Yes I am now the patheticness of Season One Ted Mosby (if you haven’t watched How I Met Your Mother by now, there’s no hope for you) throwing three parties in a row in hopes Robin would show.

I’ve always despised that episode interestingly enough. I always wondered how someone could put their friends through that just for the prospect of someone.

Everything has come full circle and I do understand it now and I did contemplate blackmailing my friends into ditching their other plans to come to this party that doesn’t exist, and yes my end goal for that party was me and Boy Next Doors drunk hook up.

So back to the “casual” allure of me and my three scented lotions, eleven am has turned into midnight ( I did not stay there on the couch waiting for him, I went out and did things OKAY) when finally he comes home.

As he comes towards me my whole body faces him, our eyes meet and we begin to speak as we slowly walk towards each other, and that’s when he says it:

“Where’s Keith?”

My brothers name.

As he walks on past me towards my brothers room and as I hear the two of them laugh about things unrelated to me, I stomp back into my own room to pout myself to sleep.

Since that anti-climactic Saturday, The Dancer has stopped all contact with and blown off our plans for our second date and Boy Next Door is going forward with all plans to move out and not hook up with me.

In an effort to find out why my life is this way, I decided to ask myself a series of questions as if I were on a game show, about to win a car or a really expensive set of plates, and here’s what I got

Game Show Host: Why did you go out with the Dancer?

Me: It seemed like we clicked, got along, thought the same things were funny

GSH: Did you want to date him?

M: Well uh maybe like if things were-

GSH: Why didn’t you want to date him? Is he not good enough for you?

M: No uh of course not I was just not sure-

GSH: So there is someone else!!!!??

M: Well no err like I mean I’m not dating anyone at all so

GSH: So you’re saying you’re dumping The Dancer for no one, no one at all

M: Uh well technically yes but

GSH: Well maybe if you had acted a little more interested I would have texted

M: Uh wait

GSH: No I mean HE, HE would have texted

M: Omg

GSH: no no

M: fucking seriously

GSH: listen-

This is about as far as I got. Maybe game shows aren’t the way to self actualize, so I looked at the “G” word,

Guilt.

I felt guilty in my lyft on my way to meet the Dancer for our date. My lyft driver had put on this instrumental music which started to fuck with me, and got me thinking, which is never a good idea before a first date.

I had texted Boy Next Door an hour before getting into this lyft, to let him know:

“everyone is busy so no party tomorrow night :/

Leaving out of course that there had been no party to begin with.

Sitting in this lyft that was now starting in on the rythyms of the flute, I got real sad that he wasn’t even going to text back to say “bummer” or “ok” and that’s when I started thinking about turning back.

I mean maybe this date isn’t such a good idea because I’m clearly too upset over the lack of reply about a party I lied about in the first place?

But I didn’t turn back, I knew Boy Next Door would be out of the house soon and I would be able to focus on the Dancer then. Why should I lose out on such a great guy?

During an Oreo binge last night, I realized something – as we all do because oreos are great carriers of wisdom – maybe the Dancer didn’t end up being a great guy, but maybe also I’m not such a great girl?

I’ve done a fair share of lying and manipulating this week and maybe that’s what I’m attracting….

I am 100% still bitter and jaded and listening to songs about the heart pangs of sleeping with fuck boys, but I do shed some light on my own behavior, my own responsibility, maybe I don’t always get to play the wronged and wounded victim?

Maybe I need to own that I’ve also got a manipulative bitch in me who wants what she wants and is pissed when she doesn’t get it.

Maybe I should also let her have more Oreos? I mean if I’m not going to let her jump people’s bones, I better give her something.

Till next time my friends, don’t fuck with fuck boys but when you do make sure you got your Spotify playlist ready!

I’m Awake

While you stay sleeping.

Is the start of my most recent sad/pathetic poem I wrote, because I am nothing if not a stereotype.
Some other recent pieces of work have titles such as:

“The Walls that Say Nothing”
“That Night”
To call it cringe worthy would be an understatement.
Funny that my poems mention nothing about almost peeing in my neighbors bushes, which is the true highlight of the whole thing.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I have fallen for The Boy Next Door.

No, but like literally his door is right next to mine and he sleeps feet away in the room next to mine.

I didn’t see it coming and had you told me that one day I’d wake up, devestated that he doesn’t want to discuss the foundation of our blossoming relationship, I would have LAUGHED and told you that you were the dumbest shit person alive.

Two weeks ago at a packed bar one night me and Boy Next Door have the most PG drunk hookup you’ve ever been bored enough to consider.

Like we’re talking long hugs and hand holding, which was  hotter than a drunk and  sweaty make out sesh, yes it’s baffling.
Then there’s me the next day, waking up with all the feels for a boy that I think I ignored the day before. Because i was eating?

We cross paths for the first time since “the night” and I watch myself  in slow motion putting my hand on his shoulder and saying “hey” as sultry as I know how.

Because it’s totally mutual right? I mean he hugged me,  held hands with me and was all about me, so…….

It’s like I’ve learned nothing from my own god damn blog.

In short, there was nothing returned and it was never spoke of again.  A Very Short Tale of Two People Who Never Had Sex. The End!

That night I couldn’t sleep a wink. Every peaceful YouTube video of harps and piano chords could not drown out the overwhelming anger I had at the person lying feet away.

I was also pretty angry with myself truthfully. To become such an idiot in such a short amount of time, I basically realized he was alive two days ago, how about we calm down.

The next night I decided to come at my inability to sleep with a new strategy. Sleeping pills and and cough syrup usually lend me down the road to obscure and terrifying nightmares, so I went with beer.

Arrived at a bar and requested  ever so daintily “whatever has the most alcohol”
and drank whatever she gave me pretty damn fast.

I am at a liquor store not even an hour and a half later picking up the biggest bottle of the highest percentage IPA there is in the store, it’s time to stop fucking around.

My new plan is to chug it in my car outside my house, because I can’t let Boy Next Door see me openly binge drinking, he’ll want to drink with me because we’re just two bros, having a cold one.
Hmm large beer, no bottle opener. I try and fail and now have two forever scars on my right index finger.

Buy a bottle opener because none of my friends are awake or helpful or as panicked about sleep as me, and get into my car and then drive it just down the block a little bit to comfortably sit in the dark next to a not too lit up neighbors house, thinking here we go I’ll just get to enjoy my beer and listen to some tunes.

What I didn’t know was how soon into this I’d have to pee.
Imagine being so determined that you have to pound a beer in order to sleep, but also  that your bladder is equally as determined not to drown. This is a battle of wills!

 

Now in reality I have peed in public probably five times. I’ve peed outside a bar at 3am, the front lawn of my college, a back alley and what my hazy memory tells me was the side of a hookah shop.

Needless to say I’m no stranger to it, but on a quiet residential? I’m technically not even drunk yet and never peed outside while stil in full reign of my mental faculties. I like to think that if I was trying to recall peeing somewhere in the open, that at least I could claim having very little memory of it. Oh the parking lot of jack in the box! That was the other one.

So anyways I circle some neighbors bushes for two minutes before realizing that I’ am way too sober for this, drive my car back down the street up to the house, chugged  the remaining 3/4 of the beer and ran.

When I was unlocking the front door, in the most pain of life, I remember being grateful that all the appeal that he had had for me was dead probably  the second he had walked back to his room that night, because me peeing my pants on our porch was only going to help solidify the fact that we’d never have sex in this lifetime.

Made it into the house, peed for an abnormally long period of time, tiptoed to my room and passed out probably from the exhilaration of being the biggest “badass” ever, if the term badass has changed over the years,  and now means “drinks alone in cars” then yes I am a poster child of that.

One positive that has come out of this, I was catalyzed to officially end things with One Night Stand Guy, who I’ve slept with a handful of times over the past few months while wishing on stars that I could develop feelings for him, but then failing  to remember to text him back for the sixth time that week.

Part of ending things with him last week was that  I didn’t want to be a shitty person and string him along anymore, since now I was feeling strung along and equally shitty.

The other reason is simply this: I could not  make feelings happen by sheer will of wanting them to.

In the span of one night I had now uncontrollable infatuation for Boy Next Door, yet I’ve been hoping crazy attraction for One Night Stand guy would one day just appear because he is cute and smart and super into me.

This for me was more of a you-can’t-control-who-you-are-attracted-to-even-though-it-would-be-way-fucking-easier-kind of lesson. And it’s annoying.

I will now return to the poem I was writing about soap and crying trees, wish me luck!

“I’m just like, really open.”

Apologies followers for the time lapse in posts here, I was dealing with two major situations.
1. The situation of realizing I ALSO like women,
2. Mostly that.

I felt it an appropriate time to tell you all, seeing as how it was #NationalComingOutDay and all, and because I have new dating apps to tell you about that have had about as much success as the ones that came before them (so basically I’m still dating my wine glass) and because now that my new sexuality information is floating out around town and getting people all awkward, I ALMOST forgot to open this up for more awkward with you guys!

First things first, you might have questions. Have I always known, how do you define yourself, have you adopted an Ethiopian child with your wife, yada yada.

Well first no, I did not always KNOW. I had suspicions. That I could usually justify.

My common phrase was “I’m just really open” – I could see myself liking someone of the same sex because I’m just such a forward thinker but ask me if I’m gay and I’ll say “Nope” and then kind of sort of want to never talk to you again.

In college I worked with a girl named Lena and quickly realized I couldn’t stop thinking about her.  I even told friends I had this little crush on her because I couldn’t keep myself from mentioning her name in any conversation it would allow, and you know I’m just so “open to things” but when asked if I could see myself WITH her (meaning all the sex) I said no I didn’t (I did. I absolutely did. And it was dirty.)

Before Lena, I had actually already had several sexual experiences with different girls when I was in middle school/freshmen in high school. My preteen self decided that those experiences were simply “experimenting” and nothing more, though funny that for something I told myself over and over was “not a big deal” it’s interesting that I never told anyone until now, hmm weird..

Growing up in a VERY christian household made the reality of me facing any of these experiences that much more unrealistic. My focus in middle school really trying to get down the members of Nsync and the Backstreet Boys because I had failed many times trying to pretend I knew who the Spice Girls really were, until being over at a friends house and looking at the poster in her room and saying ohhh okay that’s them, must take mental note that Posh is brunette and Sporty is blonde so I don’t mess this up tomorrow at recess. I mean I knew one of their songs at least,  I can sneak my friends cassette player into bed with me just like any other kid. All this to say that trying to navigate any feelings or experiences when I was just trying to get a foothold in non-christian culture was already a lot.

My crush on Lena and and my early “experiments” really started coming to the forefront in the past year. A couple of times I questioned my own signature line, “I’m just a really open person” and was like what does that even fucking mean? Luckily I could always hollow safely back into whatever crush I had on whatever guy at the time and be good.

But as I started to question my signature phrase, I started getting mad. Like really fucking mad.

People who questioned my sexuality were like my new enemies. Poor timing because people just naturally become more curious about your sexual orientation when you’re 26/27 and don’t at least hook up with a guy somewhat regularly.

I got on Eharmony and really began looking to get into a long term relationship with a guy. I needed to be dating and quickly. I wanted to go on more dates to show me how straight I was and to make comments that anyone was making about me irrelevant because I’m with a guy! I’m dating a guy now!

That was the scariest part for me. The part where you know you’re trying to date people to make a point and you KNOW it. You know it’s purposeful, you know it’s to avoid something else, you know it and you can’t un-know it and you need to get into a relationship pronto before this “progresses” like it’s fucking cancer, and basically, YOU KNOW.

When Megan entered my workplace I spent at least three months hating her before I began to think about her romantically, because then it started to become very illogical. If I hate her so much then why do I want to see her? If she’s so awful then why do I wish other people would go away so it can be just us two? If she is the worst like I tell everyone she is, then why do I think about her and I making out in the parking lot after work?

I could sense all the time now that there was something I wasn’t telling people, and I began to shift a small bit of focus on a new line for myself: “I’ll come out whenever the fuck I want to.”

After that I started to become angry if I  felt someone pushing me to do anything really. Even though I hadn’t technically told anyone about this at all, it felt like walls were closing in and everyone was trying to warp me, make me say it.

Finally one day at a training for work, talking about resources for marginalized groups of people, my director places me into a group discussing barriers that members of the LGBTQ community face in getting resources. I was so mad I was shaking.

THIS BITCH IS TRYING TO MAKE ME COME OUT

Which of course was entrenching on my new barely formulated phrase of: “I’ll come out whenever the fuck I want to”

So I joined the group to chat about barriers that members of LGBTQ community faced and heard nothing and focused on nothing and was secretly wishing death upon my director when then she comes around to our table, looks to me, and told me that I would be the one presenting what we had discussed.

I’m sure you can imagine the rage. I’ll summarize:

  • fuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyou
  • white hot blazing light searing from my eyes
  • I will literally not present this and you can go to hell

Luckily this all went on in my head and I still have a job. I left the training within four minutes of her telling me I would present. I went to my parents house because they were having a huge birthday party, and my panic was still rising. I said I had a work call to make, got in my car, called my coworker and began to yell. I yelled and yelled until I said “I want to come out whenever I fucking want to come out!!!”

Instantly she got what all this was and she said yes absolutely that is your right. And that was when I began to tell people.

Told my roommate that same night. I had made silent war with him and this coworker I had called earlier because they had been the two making offhanded comments about my sexuality that I had taken as personal attacks/threats, and I had hated them secretly for months, but now they were the people I talked to first.

It’s been so much easier since then. I come out to most people as simply bisexual because it’s easier than explaining what Pansexual is, which is the term I identify with and just fyi I came out as Pans before Miley for the record.

I don’t share this with you guys to get some release, I’ve already been releasing this off of me to people that I love for at least a month now and it’s been wonderful. I took #bivisibilityweek and ran with it!I also don’t share it with you for the joy of receiving uber religious hate mail though I’m sure that will be amusing.

I share this because not only is looking back at how angry I was kind of funny now (especially when you tell your director that you wanted her dead for at least 5 min and she laughs because she put you in that LGBTQ group because the groups were uneven) but I also tell you this in the case that one of you has experienced or is experiencing any small piece of my story.

Whether it’s not knowing who the Spice Girls were either because your parents only let you listen to Amy Grant, or maybe you’ve had experiences like mine and not wanted to ever find the meaning in them, or maybe you see yourself coming out in the future and that’s just really fucking terrifying. All I can say is that it gets better, it really really does get better.

fantasy cloud

I have been in deep mourning all afternoon (drinking lots of wine, listening to some of Miguel’s softer songs) over a boy, but yes just like every story I ever tell he has minimal idea who I am and conversations we’ve had are mostly pleasantries.

Basically I’m the worst that I subject people to stories about what goes on in my mind with these strangers, but if you do feel like being subjected then remember Hudson from my last post? He was a crush potential that was forming after my online date went flat.

Yesterday Hudson arrived at my work after about three weeks of being gone. Gone on a trip? I have no idea but he hasn’t been there. Naturally me being me I presumed our reunion would come with an explanation of his absence, a heartfelt greeting, and the resuming of our natural chat. Instead he ignored me, and got everything he needed as quickly as possible and left.

My mind formed several conclusions, starting out extreme and ending with acceptance. He hates me. He literally loathes me. He hasn’t come in in three weeks specifically to avoid me. He figured out that I liked him and now he doesn’t want to talk to me. He doesn’t care about not seeing me.

Or maybe he isn’t as interested in me as I thought he was.

BINGO.

The fall out of hypothetical relationships is the worst because only you yourself knows that you’re heartbroken, and how do you talk to your friends about a love that blossomed in your mind but only in your mind?

My roommate consequently same time is going through actual stuff with her ex-boyfriend. Should she cut the ties? Should she keep a friends with benefits thing going? Should she see other people?

Meanwhile my moral dilemma looks more like; Why doesn’t he come in anymore? Does he like my coworker more than me? Why didn’t he wave back at me?

Huge difference in the actuality of actual things happening in her scenario versus what I perceive to be taking place in mine.

Even look at the words used for the roommates boy problem. I used the word “should” because there will be a decision or action of some kind, where as with my problem I use the word “why” which dictates I’m simply throwing out questions to the wind. Asking questions to myself because there will be no decision about them, no plan of action. Hudson and I will continue to make pleasantries for awhile to come, while yet my mind accumulates more and more “why”‘s about our very basic customer service relationship.

God I sound crazy.

Lately I’ve really been missing the mark with boys, like more than usual. Everything I’ve assumed, I’ve been wrong about.

Take a newer crush that I took on in the almost month long period that Hudson was absent. This crush was a barista, not the most attractive ever but he did talk to me and was sweet and seemed interested, and I very quickly made that coffee shop a regular part of my after work routine.

Two things I assumed: He was single and that him giving me a free coffee that one time meant something.

Cut to me at his coffee shop the following week spotting him at a small table in the back, holding hands and talking with his girlfriend over a cup of coffee, which he probably gave her for free also.

At this point now I’ve lost the barista (who I never had) and I have no Hudson, and then top it off with the coworker I thought had a crush on me, quits for a new job, and first thing he does is text the most annoying female at my work. Clearly I know nothing about anything.

My realization in the midst of this is that I have no grasp on when people actually have feelings for others because I fantasize that there are feelings everywhere and between everyone. How do you know if feelings are actually there and not just in your imagination?

What are relationships in reality even like? In my reality nothing happens,which is the part I can’t stand. Do any other dreamers or INFPs relate to this? I feel like I’m just now poking my head out of my cloud for a brief second and looking around, just curious before I disappear back into fantasy land. If someone walks past me as I stand next to the door of my cloud – which is half open because I’m ready to run back inside it – maybe I’ll ask, maybe I’ll ask about relationships.

A person does walk by and I dip into my question about relationships. I’m scared the person will tell me I have to ask someone out, and I’m even more terrified they’ll give me a list of things I have to do to get a guy. The person begins to get a little long winded so I’m looking down the hallway of my cloud door looking for another person to ask or at least interrupt this one.

As I’m forced to listen to this person because no one else is walking by to save me, and I’m not quite ready to disappear back into my cloud with out at least getting some sort of vague answer, I realize everything this person has been talking about is real. Like stuff the person and their partner talk about or do or say or have done or have said. They actually did things.

It all sounds real and I’m not sure I even like it because it sounds like there can be like conflict or something? And everything isn’t a rainbow? I feel unsure still as I thank the person and step back inside my cloud of fantasy and idealism where it is safe, but I sort of hope I venture out again sometime.