Tag Archives: singlewoman

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!

lets call her Kyla

A name I made up for the girl who ripped out my heart after buying me a beer.

This isn’t true actually, she’s actually extremely lovely and extremely hot and really should be dating more of an Instagram model type so I bare no hard feelings because I’m pretty sure my gym membership is just decoration for my key chain, is my credit card even on file over there?

I will say that the several weeks of texting Kyla and the one date we had was so great that I can’t even be mad that it’s over, because I’m just so glad it happened.

After that one amazing date of extreme attraction (my end) and some minimal attraction (her end) and a lot of similar interests/topics (feminism, saving animals, roommates who don’t know proper wine etiquette, lack of time for reading, and of course lastly, parents who would rather tell their friends that you dropped out of school to start a jewelry shop on Etsy then explain that you date girls now), we wrapped up our date that had started at a restaurant and migrated to a bar, and I told her I would text her tomorrow.

Kyla and I texted for two more days before ultimately she never responded, but within that two days my brain was going haywire. I was so into her and I started secretly PLANNING little dates (in my head) that we could go on.

These weren’t like good plans like where you have venues, and people hiding, and where I have to show up an hour before, but the kind of planning where you’re thinking about the time of day you should take her, would it be too cold to take her there at night? Should it be a surprise? Like on Hitch where he provides a wetsuit for her when he takes her to that island? How hard would it be to bring up in conversation what size she wears? And then you’re kind of shocked with yourself even that you want to do this many activities willingly AND that you are excited about them. I thought of six different dates I could take Kyla on and it’s just so crazy this all coming from the person who takes so little action in relationships ever, and let me just tell you about these six dates, please?

1. A hike on the trail near my house. I would tell her to wear running shoes and I would bring water bottles for us and pack a bowl of chopped up fruit for us to nibble on underneath a tree for a break that we both (me) need.

2.Finding a place to go wine tasting in her neck of the woods, near where she is going to grad school. I would take her there and then that could become a spot we might go to when I come out to her area so she doesn’t have to drive as far but we have a place to hang out.

3. I actually recently obtained a picnic basket and blanket and was like um hello third date starter pack.

4. Going to the nearby park to kick around a soccer ball and and then afterwards go to the little restaurant around the corner for a late lunch, this girl is pretty outdoorsy I don’t know if you’re picking up on that.

5. Getting a tiny bit fancy and going to a play downtown. Preferably something with some feminist undertones or maybe even written by a lesbian!

6. This last plan came to me from the far crevasses of my most mushy romantic self, I call it “Candle Lit Everything” which is essentially taking the notion of a candle lit dinner and adding cocaine and you have no actual lights used because everything is candles, and then you make the food you’re serving her look like candles, and then you ask her if you want to celebrate her birthday early because um hello candles, and then you sing “beeeee my guest, be my guest…” such as the candle sings from beauty and the beast and then your date excuses herself to the bathroom and you hear her calling a cab outside.

All this to demonstrate, sometimes you just wanna woo a girl, ya know?

So anyways yes she is gone, yes I am sad, but more then that I am excited by the idea that another date could be as good as this one. Maybe I could even become good at dating? I think that’s kind of a stretch seeing as how I just confessed to fantasizing about singing this girl a Disney song surrounded by small flames, but who knows! Maybe I’ll learn to sing!