I fell for it. Hook, line and sinker. I admit, I should know better. And I did, for a couple of weeks. But the constant attention, the repeated promises that you had the best intentions, and the insistence that the world should know we were dating was enough to make me think otherwise.
You insisted on telling my brother about us. You told mutual friends how much you liked me, and how I am such a great girl. You made me swear that I was coming to see you after I got off work Saturday. You got jealous when I took photos with other guys at my birthday party, and so we took every kind of cutesy couple pose we could think of under the influence of way too much alcohol.
Our conversation Friday night after we got to my house is a little fuzzy. I remember enough, though. I remember the next morning, too, how you asked me, for the 10th time, if I was coming to your cabin party that night. Of course, I said, I'll call you when I get off work. How the last time I spoke to you included that promise, along with a kiss and smiles on both sides.
So why didn't you answer? Why didn't you reply to my texts? And why haven't I heard from you in almost a week? I didn't know if something happened, considering you and your buddies were going to be hunting and drinking. I still don't know what happened, and the only reason I know you are okay is because a mutual friend mentioned you in passing, that you were at your brother's one day this week.
For once, I wasn't the frigid bitch I'm so commonly accused of being. For once, I flung caution to the wind and thought "what the hell." For once, I decided to tell someone how I felt about them, even if everything inside of me was screaming at me for being stupid. You had me convinced that it wasn't all just a little game, to see if you could get the one girl who had constantly shot down all of your friends. Well, congratulations. You had me. And you were damn lucky for those few moments.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
A million things unanswered
There is a pretty good chance I've had relationships end in just about every way possible. With the exception of a post-it, that is. My first real boyfriend did it the honorable way, by coming to my house and sitting down with me and explaining that it just wasn't working out. I would have been okay, if I hadn't gone to church that night with my mother and listened to a sermon about true love and how wonderful marriage and stuff is.
The next serious boyfriend, who I dated all of my senior year of high school, invited me over one night while he was babysitting his nephew, slept on the couch the whole evening while I took care of the kid, and when it was time for me to leave, told me he was done. As I crumpled on the floor crying, he tugged his class ring off my index finger. Explained his reasoning for dumping me was because he wanted to go to the bars and his friends wouldn't let him dance with other girls because of me. (Man, the days of true friends!)
Then came college, with numerous flings that faded out after a few drunken nights. Some of those flings came after. There was the one who I blame on my roommate. There was the guy who I let go so I could go out with someone else. There was the guy from back home who cheated on me and he got crabs as a result (luckily I didn't!). Another one from back home who just got high to often to maintain anything with me.
There's the one who was perfect, who just quit calling one day. When I confronted him, he said there was no committment, therefore no need to end it. After I drunkenly made an ass of myself enough, we worked out some arrangement where he was definitely the winner. For some reason I still think if we were closer in age things would have worked. And if he weren't such an ass back then. The last time I saw him, 2 years ago, he wasn't. Lucky for his new wife...
M. was a peach, who told me one night he was cheating on me with 4 other girls when I wouldn't go to his place at 3 a.m. I also was once serenaded after a breakup...
I had one or two drunkenly profess their love to me, but that usually faded with the morning. Or at least, by the next happy hour when other girls were around. Then came J.P., who so clearly couldn't understand me, and acted severely heartbroken when I dumped him in a Wendy's restaurant on his lunch break. After I cleaned out his apartment of my stuff and returned his. He was also cheating on me, come to find out.
I've done the breaking up with three pretty serious relationships, all with some repercussions. One alienated me from some good friends, one resulted in a lot of "What ifs" through the years, and one who is now happily married and I couldn't be more sincerely happy for him and his wife, who I like the shit out of.
There's been angry drunken arguments and wistful explanations about how we just couldn't go on with each other. There's been cheating and accusations of infidelity, long distances that couldn't be overcome, and ex-girlfriends who came back in the picture.
None of this compares with being dropped without a single hint of an explanation. Which I will get into later.
The next serious boyfriend, who I dated all of my senior year of high school, invited me over one night while he was babysitting his nephew, slept on the couch the whole evening while I took care of the kid, and when it was time for me to leave, told me he was done. As I crumpled on the floor crying, he tugged his class ring off my index finger. Explained his reasoning for dumping me was because he wanted to go to the bars and his friends wouldn't let him dance with other girls because of me. (Man, the days of true friends!)
Then came college, with numerous flings that faded out after a few drunken nights. Some of those flings came after. There was the one who I blame on my roommate. There was the guy who I let go so I could go out with someone else. There was the guy from back home who cheated on me and he got crabs as a result (luckily I didn't!). Another one from back home who just got high to often to maintain anything with me.
There's the one who was perfect, who just quit calling one day. When I confronted him, he said there was no committment, therefore no need to end it. After I drunkenly made an ass of myself enough, we worked out some arrangement where he was definitely the winner. For some reason I still think if we were closer in age things would have worked. And if he weren't such an ass back then. The last time I saw him, 2 years ago, he wasn't. Lucky for his new wife...
M. was a peach, who told me one night he was cheating on me with 4 other girls when I wouldn't go to his place at 3 a.m. I also was once serenaded after a breakup...
I had one or two drunkenly profess their love to me, but that usually faded with the morning. Or at least, by the next happy hour when other girls were around. Then came J.P., who so clearly couldn't understand me, and acted severely heartbroken when I dumped him in a Wendy's restaurant on his lunch break. After I cleaned out his apartment of my stuff and returned his. He was also cheating on me, come to find out.
I've done the breaking up with three pretty serious relationships, all with some repercussions. One alienated me from some good friends, one resulted in a lot of "What ifs" through the years, and one who is now happily married and I couldn't be more sincerely happy for him and his wife, who I like the shit out of.
There's been angry drunken arguments and wistful explanations about how we just couldn't go on with each other. There's been cheating and accusations of infidelity, long distances that couldn't be overcome, and ex-girlfriends who came back in the picture.
None of this compares with being dropped without a single hint of an explanation. Which I will get into later.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
World War 3 - family style
So Friday night was the official first time I would hang out with the Young'un as prospective dating material. Despite some miscommunication about E.T.A.s and an almost constant string of attempts at P.D.A., things went pretty smoothly.
Until he was sufficiently drunk and decided to spill his guts to my brother.
Knowing my brother was drunk with other friends in another town, and not knowing his current mood, I tried to discourage it and simultaneously discover the mood of my brother. Young'un insisted he would handle it, it wasn't my place to tell, and he didn't want me and my brother to fight. Some drunken stuff about letting my brother kick his ass if need be. So the following convo occurred.
Brother (texting me): Got 6 bucks! That's enough for a beer run! (lyrics to a favorite song. Brother and I do this constantly)
Me: (texting Brother): Now all we need is someone to do the buying (more lyrics)
Young'un (texting Brother): Hey
Me (telling Young'un): Don't do it, man. He's drunk.
Brother (texting Young'un): Hey man, you in town? We're getting drunk!
Me (telling Young'un): This is a really bad idea. See, he's drunk!
Me (texting Brother): What are you doing?
Young'un (texting Brother): I have something to tell you.
Brother (texting Me): Going to the bars. Drunk!
Me (telling Young'un): He's drunk. He isn't going to want to deal with this now.
Young'un (telling me): I'm doing it anyway.
Young'un (texting Brother): I've been talking to your sister.
Me (telling Young'un): He's going to think this is a joke.
Brother (texting Young'un): I hate you.
Me (telling Young'un): See, he thinks it's a joke.
Young'un (texting Brother): Dude, I'm not joking.
Me (telling Young'un): We probably need to get something stronger for me to drink. I'm going into stress-related shock. What the hell is my dad going to say! I'm not ready for my family to call me a cougar!
Young'un (telling me): Well, watch my phone for a bit. I'm going to play pool with my friends.
45 minutes, no response from Brother.
Me (texting Brother): U mad?
4 hours later
Brother (texting me): Did (his high school football team) lose?
Considering Brother never mentioned Young'un, nor his previous night's convo, in any of the 37 texts he sent me the next day (gamedays are bad about that between us), I have every reason to believe Brother thinks it was a joke. It's going to be really interesting next weekend when Brother, Dad, other Brother, and Sister are all tailgating with me at the same place as Young'un will be tailgating. I've already got not one, but two bottles of Captain Morgan reserved for that day. A full day of tailgating, plus a concert the night before at my favorite OKC bar, will be sure to result in ridiculous actions by me. Possibly including, but not limited to, random curse words not normally used around Dad, smoking in front of Dad, insisting on multiple photos with my favorite mascot/anyone I randomly remember from college, playing grabass with Young'un and getting caught sneaking liquor into the stadium.
If I'm going to get lectured for bad behavior by my family, I damn sure want to deserve it.
Until he was sufficiently drunk and decided to spill his guts to my brother.
Knowing my brother was drunk with other friends in another town, and not knowing his current mood, I tried to discourage it and simultaneously discover the mood of my brother. Young'un insisted he would handle it, it wasn't my place to tell, and he didn't want me and my brother to fight. Some drunken stuff about letting my brother kick his ass if need be. So the following convo occurred.
Brother (texting me): Got 6 bucks! That's enough for a beer run! (lyrics to a favorite song. Brother and I do this constantly)
Me: (texting Brother): Now all we need is someone to do the buying (more lyrics)
Young'un (texting Brother): Hey
Me (telling Young'un): Don't do it, man. He's drunk.
Brother (texting Young'un): Hey man, you in town? We're getting drunk!
Me (telling Young'un): This is a really bad idea. See, he's drunk!
Me (texting Brother): What are you doing?
Young'un (texting Brother): I have something to tell you.
Brother (texting Me): Going to the bars. Drunk!
Me (telling Young'un): He's drunk. He isn't going to want to deal with this now.
Young'un (telling me): I'm doing it anyway.
Young'un (texting Brother): I've been talking to your sister.
Me (telling Young'un): He's going to think this is a joke.
Brother (texting Young'un): I hate you.
Me (telling Young'un): See, he thinks it's a joke.
Young'un (texting Brother): Dude, I'm not joking.
Me (telling Young'un): We probably need to get something stronger for me to drink. I'm going into stress-related shock. What the hell is my dad going to say! I'm not ready for my family to call me a cougar!
Young'un (telling me): Well, watch my phone for a bit. I'm going to play pool with my friends.
45 minutes, no response from Brother.
Me (texting Brother): U mad?
4 hours later
Brother (texting me): Did (his high school football team) lose?
Considering Brother never mentioned Young'un, nor his previous night's convo, in any of the 37 texts he sent me the next day (gamedays are bad about that between us), I have every reason to believe Brother thinks it was a joke. It's going to be really interesting next weekend when Brother, Dad, other Brother, and Sister are all tailgating with me at the same place as Young'un will be tailgating. I've already got not one, but two bottles of Captain Morgan reserved for that day. A full day of tailgating, plus a concert the night before at my favorite OKC bar, will be sure to result in ridiculous actions by me. Possibly including, but not limited to, random curse words not normally used around Dad, smoking in front of Dad, insisting on multiple photos with my favorite mascot/anyone I randomly remember from college, playing grabass with Young'un and getting caught sneaking liquor into the stadium.
If I'm going to get lectured for bad behavior by my family, I damn sure want to deserve it.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Why I am rude (or seem to be most of the time)
I have a very low tolerance for stupidity and poor manners. I admit, I'm not perfect. I've been known to put my elbows on the table, end sentences with a preposition and dress unappropriately for the office. However, very rarely am I a total idiot. That usually only happens when dealing with a severe hangover. When presented with a social situation, I can usually hold my own, with the exception of texting while someone is talking to me. And I'm really, really trying to work on that. So please don't take my phone away from me.
Here are just a few things that really get on my last nerve.
1. Not offering to help when someone has their hands full. And then complaining when the bread is smushed thanks to it slipping out of my hands.
2. Men who don't allow the lady to go first. Since men don't ask for directions, the woman is probably the only one who knows where to go anyway and therefore should lead.
3. Couples who bicker constantly, like they think it's cute. It isn't. It makes me uncomfortable.
4. Loud talkers.
5. Overtalking/analyzing a situation/problem. Unless it's my dating life, and I'm the one talking.
6. Drunk men interrupting me and my girlfriends when it's obvious we are in the middle of a deep conversation and not on the prowl.
7. Slow drivers in the fast lane.
8. Tardiness. My time is important too.
9. Nosy old biddies. Even though I will probably become one.
10. Stating the ridiculous obvious. "Is this the office?" "That's what the 6 foot sign in the front yard says."
11. Trying to rip me (or the company for which I work) off, then getting mad when I catch you at it.
12. Employers who expect me to bust my ass at all times yet always seem to be at home at 2:30 p.m. when I call with a problem. The bosses who lay around on the office beanbags with me are acceptable.
13. Pictures hanging crooked on the wall.
14. Not offering to help with the dishes when a guest at someone's house.
15. Invading my personal bubble when I'm obviously moving away from you.
16. Answering the same stupid questions repeatedly. By the way, I am not an information booth. Nor am I 411. I have no idea what services the competing marinas offer. Quit asking me.
17. Drastic spelling/grammar errors. Yes, I know that some of my stuff is not perfect. But when every sentence, comment or text message has mistakes, there's a problem.
18. Long natural fingernails. Or toenails. Eeuuw.
19. People who say "I just go with the flow" as an excuse for not following through on plans.
20. Discussing personal finances. I'm in no way authorized to help manage money. Unless you want yours managed poorly. And by poorly I mean spent largely on booze, junk food and tickets to concerts/sporting events.
21. Talking to other people while you are on the phone with me and I'm talking. And then acting like I'm crazy when I'm quiet until you finish your other conversation. Especially when you called me.
22. Not putting the toilet seat down in a girl's house.
Okay, that's just a rough start. I'm sure there will be more to follow. What are YOUR pet peeves?
Here are just a few things that really get on my last nerve.
1. Not offering to help when someone has their hands full. And then complaining when the bread is smushed thanks to it slipping out of my hands.
2. Men who don't allow the lady to go first. Since men don't ask for directions, the woman is probably the only one who knows where to go anyway and therefore should lead.
3. Couples who bicker constantly, like they think it's cute. It isn't. It makes me uncomfortable.
4. Loud talkers.
5. Overtalking/analyzing a situation/problem. Unless it's my dating life, and I'm the one talking.
6. Drunk men interrupting me and my girlfriends when it's obvious we are in the middle of a deep conversation and not on the prowl.
7. Slow drivers in the fast lane.
8. Tardiness. My time is important too.
9. Nosy old biddies. Even though I will probably become one.
10. Stating the ridiculous obvious. "Is this the office?" "That's what the 6 foot sign in the front yard says."
11. Trying to rip me (or the company for which I work) off, then getting mad when I catch you at it.
12. Employers who expect me to bust my ass at all times yet always seem to be at home at 2:30 p.m. when I call with a problem. The bosses who lay around on the office beanbags with me are acceptable.
13. Pictures hanging crooked on the wall.
14. Not offering to help with the dishes when a guest at someone's house.
15. Invading my personal bubble when I'm obviously moving away from you.
16. Answering the same stupid questions repeatedly. By the way, I am not an information booth. Nor am I 411. I have no idea what services the competing marinas offer. Quit asking me.
17. Drastic spelling/grammar errors. Yes, I know that some of my stuff is not perfect. But when every sentence, comment or text message has mistakes, there's a problem.
18. Long natural fingernails. Or toenails. Eeuuw.
19. People who say "I just go with the flow" as an excuse for not following through on plans.
20. Discussing personal finances. I'm in no way authorized to help manage money. Unless you want yours managed poorly. And by poorly I mean spent largely on booze, junk food and tickets to concerts/sporting events.
21. Talking to other people while you are on the phone with me and I'm talking. And then acting like I'm crazy when I'm quiet until you finish your other conversation. Especially when you called me.
22. Not putting the toilet seat down in a girl's house.
Okay, that's just a rough start. I'm sure there will be more to follow. What are YOUR pet peeves?
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Why it pays to be secretive
When I was in high school, I made the mistake of complaining to my parents about my then-boyfriend. So when we resolved our minor tiff, and things were great again, my parents gave me some shit about going back out with the guy. After a few emotional tantrums thrown by the 16-year-old me, I realized that sometimes my parents don't need to know about all the fights with my boyfriend.
Fast-forward to sophomore year of college, when I went on a dating frenzy. I could barely get out of one relationship before another guy asked me out (those were the days). After about the fourth guy, Dad said he no longer wanted to know about my dating life, because he couldn't keep names straight. (Hewas really wanting me to marry an alfalfa farmer so he could have cheap hay for the cows, and I was breaking his heart by not dating that guy.)
The young'un didn't understand why I was against my family finding out we have been chatting. I listed the following arguments.
Fast-forward to sophomore year of college, when I went on a dating frenzy. I could barely get out of one relationship before another guy asked me out (those were the days). After about the fourth guy, Dad said he no longer wanted to know about my dating life, because he couldn't keep names straight. (Hewas really wanting me to marry an alfalfa farmer so he could have cheap hay for the cows, and I was breaking his heart by not dating that guy.)
As I progressed through my dating years, I realized more and more the necessity of keeping some things to myself when it comes to the boys in my life. Granted, I don't always follow my own advice, but there are times when secrecy is a benefit, nay a necessity. It limits the lectures/gagging noises/reasons to put me in the looney bin.
Sometimes the need for silence is simply that I'm not sure what is going to happen with the relationship. It's one thing for my close girlfriends to laugh at my misfortune (which happens often) or congratulate me on my good luck (which has never happened), but it's an entirely different thing for Grandpa to find out that I recently dumped a guy because I didn't like how he wore rubber bands around his wrist, or because he laughs just a little too loud at his own jokes.
I never have understood the girls who post every little thing on Myspace or Facebook about how smitten they are after one phone call, or one date, or one drunken flirtation. In my experience, those are the least likely to pan out. The minute I start thinking the slightest favorable thing about a guy is the minute I'll find out he's having a baby with some other chick, or was laughing about my gullibility with some friends, or just really drunk and can't remember my name.
It's usually a lot easier on me if no one knows I was talking to a certain guy when he starts mugging down with some other girl in the middle of the bar. Believe me, it's happened more times than I'd like to count. It's a lot easier to paste a smile on your face if the whole bar isn't giving you sympathetic (a.k.a. you're such a dumbass) looks.
Secrecy also works when you are on the outside of a relationship. I hate being the bearer of bad news when my friends are dating a jerk. This summer, I found out that a friend was dating two guys, both of whom are friends of mine (as well as being friends with each other). Each guy was wondering why she was being elusive, and had included me in the situation, either by asking me my opinion, or help, or drunken heart-to-hearts. During the drunken heart-to-heart, I confessed what I knew about the other guy in the girl's life.
Normally, in this situation, I would be a good friend and the girl would be dubbed as a player, cheat, two-timin' bitch, or whatever. Not so with me. Somehow I end up as the bad guy, when I just want to prevent my friends from being hurt. It's beyond my understanding, but, oh well.
Now how does all this matter now? Friday night, I went with my dad and brother to a high school football game. On the way, I was texting the young'un to whom I've been talking. In the convo, I mentioned I was with my brother/his friend. He told me to tell brother he said hello. Which presented a possible breach in my secrecy.
If I were to tell my brother who I was texting, he would flip out. Which will happen eventually (maybe), but I was not prepared for this to happen with my dad in the vehicle. And no alcohol readily accessible. So I didn't.The young'un didn't understand why I was against my family finding out we have been chatting. I listed the following arguments.
- Dad doesn't want to know about my dating life, considering the young'un doesn't have thousands of acres of hay fields.
- Brother and I recently got in a fight about his on-again, off-again relationship, because he told me all the bad things and none of the good things about his ex, then was upset when I was less than civil when she showed up with him Labor Day weekend.
- I have no desire for my entire town to call me a cougar.
- He may end up as a jackass, then I would look even more stupid for even contemplating dating him.
- Someone better may come along and I would like to be available for dates and such. (Okay, I just thought that one.)
In the end, he agreed to keep the whole situation on the DL with our mutual friends. Something about how we are friends anyway and it's no one's business what we do. That, and he's scared I might deny his existence if he disobeys me.
Which is another reason to date a young'un. You get to break them of bad habits before they are ingrained in their personality...
Friday, September 19, 2008
I'm baaaaccckkkk!
Hey guys. Sorry for being MIA. I don't know if anyone really noticed... but anyway, I'm here now. I took a long break from much computer work this summer, thanks to getting out of the publication industry (not entirely by choice). So I spent the summer bartending, drinking and being a lake rat. So this will be a random update list of sorts....
I'm studying to take teaching certification tests. Yeah, I'm going to be a teacher. Science and journalism, considering I have degrees in each. I'm just not planning on being a Ms. Davis from Varsity Blues...
My friends and I have decided to design girly fishing lures. Complete with glitter, sequins and fun colors. The three of us like fishing enough, as well as knowing a bunch of guys who would love free lures, that we have quite the testing pool. And a really big lake known for its fishing, where I am working in the marina. It's our get rich quick scheme. Which hasn't kicked in yet, considering we haven't done much beyond the idea phase. But once we get off our drunk/hungover butts, I think we will make a fortune. Seriously. Not really.
My 30th birthday is coming up in a few weeks. Huge deal for a single woman, right? What's even better is that I currently have six friends expecting babies. And six who have recently borne a bundle of joy. The last family reunion I went to featured my grandpa quizzing me as to why I'm still single. Luckily there was plenty of alcohol there.
Grandpa and the rest of my family think I'm too picky. I told them if being too picky meant requiring a guy to actually call me once in awhile during reasonable hours, not be on meth, and be gainfully employed, then they were right. Because That shut them up really quick. And if they could meet some of the guys I've dealt with in the past few years, they would know I'm not really all that picky. And would be probably start giving me cats.
In response to all this why-isn't-a-pretty-and-smart-girl-like-you-married-with-2.3-kids nonsense, I have decided to have an early mid-life crisis. This is also influenced by the advances of a 21-year-old guy I know. Considering he actually calls and texts on a regular basis, and has a decent job which keeps him away from here for weeks at a time, it might work out alright. At least, until I find someone else to compliment me shamelessly. At the risk of being a cougar, I figure age would be a good category on which to relax my dating restrictions. Hell, at least he's old enough to drink.... and I don't wear animal print. Or have long fake nails. And thanks to good genetics (cause we know it ain't from healthy living) I look a bit younger than my 29 years. He could pass for older...
Yeah, that sounds like a plan.
I'm studying to take teaching certification tests. Yeah, I'm going to be a teacher. Science and journalism, considering I have degrees in each. I'm just not planning on being a Ms. Davis from Varsity Blues...
My friends and I have decided to design girly fishing lures. Complete with glitter, sequins and fun colors. The three of us like fishing enough, as well as knowing a bunch of guys who would love free lures, that we have quite the testing pool. And a really big lake known for its fishing, where I am working in the marina. It's our get rich quick scheme. Which hasn't kicked in yet, considering we haven't done much beyond the idea phase. But once we get off our drunk/hungover butts, I think we will make a fortune. Seriously. Not really.
My 30th birthday is coming up in a few weeks. Huge deal for a single woman, right? What's even better is that I currently have six friends expecting babies. And six who have recently borne a bundle of joy. The last family reunion I went to featured my grandpa quizzing me as to why I'm still single. Luckily there was plenty of alcohol there.
Grandpa and the rest of my family think I'm too picky. I told them if being too picky meant requiring a guy to actually call me once in awhile during reasonable hours, not be on meth, and be gainfully employed, then they were right. Because That shut them up really quick. And if they could meet some of the guys I've dealt with in the past few years, they would know I'm not really all that picky. And would be probably start giving me cats.
In response to all this why-isn't-a-pretty-and-smart-girl-like-you-married-with-2.3-kids nonsense, I have decided to have an early mid-life crisis. This is also influenced by the advances of a 21-year-old guy I know. Considering he actually calls and texts on a regular basis, and has a decent job which keeps him away from here for weeks at a time, it might work out alright. At least, until I find someone else to compliment me shamelessly. At the risk of being a cougar, I figure age would be a good category on which to relax my dating restrictions. Hell, at least he's old enough to drink.... and I don't wear animal print. Or have long fake nails. And thanks to good genetics (cause we know it ain't from healthy living) I look a bit younger than my 29 years. He could pass for older...
Yeah, that sounds like a plan.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
