yes my friends, that is how an actual date with this tool started. ok, so that's somewhat false. i found his picture on facebook through mutual friends and sent him a message after learning we lived in the same town (hey, who doesn't want just one more facebook friend?!). I told him to let me know if he ever wanted to meet for coffee. Please note I only said coffee. NOT a couch visit, not a drunken phone call, coffee. He responded with something like "sure, that sounds great. I work downtown..."
Excuse me. did he just dot dot dot me? I responded with "i live [in a certain part of town] and work downtown..." he responded with "okay..." THIS GUY BLOWS! What happened to men taking the proactive role and making a move? So I suggested Tues. He says ok and gives me his number. I txt him so he will have mine. I mean, i can't take this hand holding I'm having to do. He responds with "hon do you even know how old I am?" so many things wrong. 1. he called me hon. can he patronize me a LITTLE bit more? 2. yes i know how old he is. his facebook screams it. he's 10 years older than me. and 3. let's talk again about what a tool he is. why am I holding HIS hand when he CLEARLY thinks he is the adult here? There is a reason this guy got the dooshbag label stuck on him. By this point, I'm agitated. I respond with "wow, I love being patronized. let's forget about tuesday." BIG MISTAKE.
I get a drunk txt at 5 AM. Seriously? And he wants me to know how old he is? Please. He won't leave me alone. He's hot on my trail now that I say forget it. I can't resist a true d-bag. I have to respond. after a few really ridiculous and immature "you just want my body" txts from him (keep in mind I have NEVER met this guy so how can i want his body?) i agree to meet him for ONE drink. On a weekend night. that way, his night will be ruined because he has made plans with me but I intend to leave after one drink. plus, I have to work the next morning so it's better for me to call it a night early on. i think he just wants some bootay. you're barking up the wrong tree buddy.
I just received this text: "how about we meet for dinner and cuss at each other?" CUSS? Give me a break. does he want me to walk in and scream hey asshole over here when I see him? Maybe he will tell me to go to hell. whatever dude. this guy is a total loser. and a dooshbag. and i can't wait to blog about him after what is sure to be the BEST date of my ENTIRE life. wow, how did I ever get so lucky! I just wanted to see my friend number on facebook increase by one!
Friday, October 24, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Side Note
I don't want to give off the wrong impression here. i'm not a bitter woman. i'm not an angry woman. i just don't have much tolerance anymore for the bar stars. when I say someone is a dooshbag, it's in the nicest way :) Referring to people as dooshbags or tools are some of the most common things I do. It's not because I have a superiority complex either.
you're gonna be rich? yessss.
imagine you're on a blind date. the guy's a nerd, but he's not intolerable. you're at a fab wine bar, having a glass and gnawing (ok, so maybe you aren't GNAWING, but i just love that word) on some delish calamari. imagine the conversation is all one sided. and it's all about him. and his job. and how much money he makes. seriously? yes. seriously.
the food and drink were great. the company? not so great. as soon as we got there, and got the initial "hi, my name is" out of the way, he immediately delved into his job. He was a lawyer. And a CPA. he had a masters in something else. went to three very good schools. he dressed well. he wasn't so bad looking. he had great teeth. but after he told me about how his first job had sought him out, and he decided it wasn't challenging enough, he told me how several big name law firms had squabbled over him and he had finally committed to one. he hadn't started yet. he wasn't worried though. he knew they would come back to him fairly quickly with a start date. the firm was lucky to get him. he wasn't looking for anything serious. he just wanted to find someone to sleep with. yes my friends, i was on a date with this winner.
he told me how much money he made. and how much money he would have in the bank in five years (ooops, I guess you didn't take into account the stock market plunge). after dinner, he asked me to come see his condo and tell him what i thought of his couch. what a line, sweet talker. how did you know i've been dying to see your couch? i have NO idea what this one really implies. i was really torn too. this guy blew and i knew what was coming. BUT, his condo was in a really phat building in the center of town and i had been dying to get inside and take a peek. and here was my chance! ahh, decisions decisions....
we got to his condo and it was everything i had heard and had been dying to see. floor to ceiling windows, the sleekest granite you've seen, the richest wood floors, the smoothest tile in the bathrooms. he had it decorated nicely. he immediately sat down on the couch and offered to open a bottle of wine. umm, no thanks. my thirst has been quenched with the viewing of your condo. i yawned and told him i needed to go home.
i forgot to tell him what i thought of his couch. it matched my opinion of him. and i don't want to sleep on it.
the food and drink were great. the company? not so great. as soon as we got there, and got the initial "hi, my name is" out of the way, he immediately delved into his job. He was a lawyer. And a CPA. he had a masters in something else. went to three very good schools. he dressed well. he wasn't so bad looking. he had great teeth. but after he told me about how his first job had sought him out, and he decided it wasn't challenging enough, he told me how several big name law firms had squabbled over him and he had finally committed to one. he hadn't started yet. he wasn't worried though. he knew they would come back to him fairly quickly with a start date. the firm was lucky to get him. he wasn't looking for anything serious. he just wanted to find someone to sleep with. yes my friends, i was on a date with this winner.
he told me how much money he made. and how much money he would have in the bank in five years (ooops, I guess you didn't take into account the stock market plunge). after dinner, he asked me to come see his condo and tell him what i thought of his couch. what a line, sweet talker. how did you know i've been dying to see your couch? i have NO idea what this one really implies. i was really torn too. this guy blew and i knew what was coming. BUT, his condo was in a really phat building in the center of town and i had been dying to get inside and take a peek. and here was my chance! ahh, decisions decisions....
we got to his condo and it was everything i had heard and had been dying to see. floor to ceiling windows, the sleekest granite you've seen, the richest wood floors, the smoothest tile in the bathrooms. he had it decorated nicely. he immediately sat down on the couch and offered to open a bottle of wine. umm, no thanks. my thirst has been quenched with the viewing of your condo. i yawned and told him i needed to go home.
i forgot to tell him what i thought of his couch. it matched my opinion of him. and i don't want to sleep on it.
your tomato stakes belong in the tool shed
There's always that one guy that we can't ever seem to shake...ya know, the most popular boy in high school. He always played football (or in this case, football AND soccer), could do what he wanted because the teachers loved him, the guys thought he was so manly and the girls just wanted to touch his long hair and have him look at them.
I grew up with this kid. Literally. he started mooning me the summer we met. I was 7. He was almost 8. he and his brother were the cutest kids in the 'hood. there was a big group of us kids that always played together - we would go to swim practice in the mornings, then spend our afternoons and nights playing together. As we got older, the nights became more important. The sun would set, the lightning bugs would light up, and our group would stay up late into the night talking and being teenagers. And all of us girls secretly wanted a kiss from one of the brothers. there were other boys in our crew but they weren't these boys. The summer nights also involved a lot of toilet paper, eggs and paint ball guns. It became a bit of a war: my older brother and me vs. those brothers. I have found myself laughing over the years about the night they paint balled our house. My parents had just gotten the trim painted and the window was open. an orange paint ball flew into the window and hit the wall above their bed. my parents called the police but knew who it was all along.
after the youngest brother (and the cutest) graduated, the family moved to another state. i'm being honest when i say i never gave them another thought (i mean, besides the paint balling). you don't have to believe me if you don't want to. about 6 months ago, i was sitting at...drum roll please...the BAR with two of my bff's and this extremely attractive MAN swaggered up to me (he was like a cowboy out of Hollywood!) and started talking. I just looked at him. It was one of those "this man is incredibly attractive and I know I should know him" moments. Finally, he realized I didn't remember him and he introduced himself and my heart flipped and flopped all around its chest cavity. he proceeded to sit down, join in our club meeting and then he wouldn't leave! he finally got the hint, got my number, and he was off. i called my mom to tell her and all she could say was "oh lord, he's back."
after that night, he pursued me like i was going outta style. he would call and talk in his thick state-specific accent and his swagger was enough to make any girl melt. he was tall - much taller than anyone i had dated before and his shoulders would surround me when we hugged. he was a gentleman and it was hard not to be entranced. he told me i had to get over all of my sophomoric impressions about him from high school before we would be able to really have fun. he did his research, learned about a few important events in my life that have shaped me and seemed to know just how to treat me when i responded the way i responded. he met my friends. he cooked me dinner. he wanted to talk about serious issues, not just surface level facades. he played the piano growing up and one night, he played me a song he had written and sang to me in italian. i thought i had died and gone to lovers heaven. the cooking, the singing, the piano playing, the books, the dreams of tomato harvesting; these were things i had only dreamed of ever finding in someone. we were soul mates and all the elizabeth barrett browning quotes started flooding back to me.
he was harboring a nasty secret though. He had a girlfriend (i'm sorry...a lady friend, if you will) in another state. they had met one summer vacationing and had kept in touch for several years, seeing each other once every 4 months. Now THERE's a relationship for you. They had come to an agreement of sorts...they were free to date other people but she would be moving to his town in the fall to try things out for an unspecified amount of time. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? he wanted me to know about her; honesty was a big things for him. it was completely one sided honesty though, which i guess makes it not...honest? i appreciated his honesty - he knew my past and my heart and knew i couldn't get hurt like that again. however, he HAD to be honest. he knew i would find out anyway. this town isn't that big. the longer this went on, the more i realized my emotions were going to be involved. but his were too - if he was being honest about his feelings. one saturday, as i climbed into his car, i noticed a purple hallmark card envelope with her name on the back (he had slipped and told me her name one night). I realized then that it wasn't what i thought. until that point, he had painted a picture of an obligation to an old friend, something he couldn't get out of because he was a man of integrity and good moral character. but it was merely an obligation; he didn't see it going anywhere. i asked him if she knew about me and he said no, because of their agreement not to tell the other of their dates, but also because she would be extrememly hurt if she knew about me (keep in mind this entire time he had been saying she wasn't his girlfriend). once again, ARE YOU KIDDING ME? i told him i didn't know of too many girls that would take a semester off GRADUATE school to move to some rando town to try things out with some dude who was not her boyfriend. i told him i couldn't do it anymore. i was done.
i saw him a couple of months ago for the first time...he swaggered up to me and whispered in my ear that he wanted to spend more time with me. it was hard not to get all pitter pattery inside; warm breath on my ear never sounded so sexy. i said no and reminded him of the night i asked him if he was willing to give up something good with me for a maybe with her and he had replied yes. he made his choice. i will NOT be an after thought. a second choice. the greener grass on the other side. he said she had come to visit for a weekend and it hadn't gone so well. the month or longer stay was being revisited and they were deciding if it was the best decision for them. sorry buckaroo. you made your choice.
about once a week since then, i've gotten a text or a call from him, asking me to do something. i appreciate his efforts. but the thing is, he always gets in touch with me an hour or two BEFORE he wants to do something. really? don't call me at the last minute. i love that he has the audacity to get mad at me when i turn him down. the last time he got in touch with me, it was at 4:30 on a Saturday to do something at 7 that evening. i told him no. i had friends in town. and plans. and it was saturday for crying out loud. i guess i haven't been able to get over him so i spend my saturdays waiting for him to find me. please. he retorted that he would not be asking me again; i had turned down too many offers. if i wanted to hang out with him, i would have to seek him out. umm, ok TOOL BOX. thank you for letting me know.
there are things about him that i can not live with. things that i knew about him from growing up with him. things i learned about him while dating him. but i was willing to make concessions for him. was it because it was right to be with him or because it was such a good story (think about it: childhood enemies turned lovers. and our families get along!) that i was willing to settle? a deal killer is a deal killer. period. and having another girlfriend, no matter how honest you think you are being, is a big ole fat deal killer.
ARE YOU KIDDING ME? you chose her buddy. I'm not going to be your second choice. EVER. and at least have enough respect to call me in advance to make plans. i guess some people never change. he's probably never had someone not jump at the chance to go out with him, or had someone not be willing to be second choice. hey, at his peak, you were lucky to be ANY choice to him. i got news for you buddy.
i'll take my tool box of memories of us growing up and pack them away in the shed out back. and i'm sure i'll see you around at some of the bars...like i said, this town ain't that big. but i can't waste my time hanging out with a d-bag who doesn't put me first when there are PLENTY of d-bags out there willing to put me first. hey, a girl's gotta eat.
I grew up with this kid. Literally. he started mooning me the summer we met. I was 7. He was almost 8. he and his brother were the cutest kids in the 'hood. there was a big group of us kids that always played together - we would go to swim practice in the mornings, then spend our afternoons and nights playing together. As we got older, the nights became more important. The sun would set, the lightning bugs would light up, and our group would stay up late into the night talking and being teenagers. And all of us girls secretly wanted a kiss from one of the brothers. there were other boys in our crew but they weren't these boys. The summer nights also involved a lot of toilet paper, eggs and paint ball guns. It became a bit of a war: my older brother and me vs. those brothers. I have found myself laughing over the years about the night they paint balled our house. My parents had just gotten the trim painted and the window was open. an orange paint ball flew into the window and hit the wall above their bed. my parents called the police but knew who it was all along.
after the youngest brother (and the cutest) graduated, the family moved to another state. i'm being honest when i say i never gave them another thought (i mean, besides the paint balling). you don't have to believe me if you don't want to. about 6 months ago, i was sitting at...drum roll please...the BAR with two of my bff's and this extremely attractive MAN swaggered up to me (he was like a cowboy out of Hollywood!) and started talking. I just looked at him. It was one of those "this man is incredibly attractive and I know I should know him" moments. Finally, he realized I didn't remember him and he introduced himself and my heart flipped and flopped all around its chest cavity. he proceeded to sit down, join in our club meeting and then he wouldn't leave! he finally got the hint, got my number, and he was off. i called my mom to tell her and all she could say was "oh lord, he's back."
after that night, he pursued me like i was going outta style. he would call and talk in his thick state-specific accent and his swagger was enough to make any girl melt. he was tall - much taller than anyone i had dated before and his shoulders would surround me when we hugged. he was a gentleman and it was hard not to be entranced. he told me i had to get over all of my sophomoric impressions about him from high school before we would be able to really have fun. he did his research, learned about a few important events in my life that have shaped me and seemed to know just how to treat me when i responded the way i responded. he met my friends. he cooked me dinner. he wanted to talk about serious issues, not just surface level facades. he played the piano growing up and one night, he played me a song he had written and sang to me in italian. i thought i had died and gone to lovers heaven. the cooking, the singing, the piano playing, the books, the dreams of tomato harvesting; these were things i had only dreamed of ever finding in someone. we were soul mates and all the elizabeth barrett browning quotes started flooding back to me.
he was harboring a nasty secret though. He had a girlfriend (i'm sorry...a lady friend, if you will) in another state. they had met one summer vacationing and had kept in touch for several years, seeing each other once every 4 months. Now THERE's a relationship for you. They had come to an agreement of sorts...they were free to date other people but she would be moving to his town in the fall to try things out for an unspecified amount of time. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? he wanted me to know about her; honesty was a big things for him. it was completely one sided honesty though, which i guess makes it not...honest? i appreciated his honesty - he knew my past and my heart and knew i couldn't get hurt like that again. however, he HAD to be honest. he knew i would find out anyway. this town isn't that big. the longer this went on, the more i realized my emotions were going to be involved. but his were too - if he was being honest about his feelings. one saturday, as i climbed into his car, i noticed a purple hallmark card envelope with her name on the back (he had slipped and told me her name one night). I realized then that it wasn't what i thought. until that point, he had painted a picture of an obligation to an old friend, something he couldn't get out of because he was a man of integrity and good moral character. but it was merely an obligation; he didn't see it going anywhere. i asked him if she knew about me and he said no, because of their agreement not to tell the other of their dates, but also because she would be extrememly hurt if she knew about me (keep in mind this entire time he had been saying she wasn't his girlfriend). once again, ARE YOU KIDDING ME? i told him i didn't know of too many girls that would take a semester off GRADUATE school to move to some rando town to try things out with some dude who was not her boyfriend. i told him i couldn't do it anymore. i was done.
i saw him a couple of months ago for the first time...he swaggered up to me and whispered in my ear that he wanted to spend more time with me. it was hard not to get all pitter pattery inside; warm breath on my ear never sounded so sexy. i said no and reminded him of the night i asked him if he was willing to give up something good with me for a maybe with her and he had replied yes. he made his choice. i will NOT be an after thought. a second choice. the greener grass on the other side. he said she had come to visit for a weekend and it hadn't gone so well. the month or longer stay was being revisited and they were deciding if it was the best decision for them. sorry buckaroo. you made your choice.
about once a week since then, i've gotten a text or a call from him, asking me to do something. i appreciate his efforts. but the thing is, he always gets in touch with me an hour or two BEFORE he wants to do something. really? don't call me at the last minute. i love that he has the audacity to get mad at me when i turn him down. the last time he got in touch with me, it was at 4:30 on a Saturday to do something at 7 that evening. i told him no. i had friends in town. and plans. and it was saturday for crying out loud. i guess i haven't been able to get over him so i spend my saturdays waiting for him to find me. please. he retorted that he would not be asking me again; i had turned down too many offers. if i wanted to hang out with him, i would have to seek him out. umm, ok TOOL BOX. thank you for letting me know.
there are things about him that i can not live with. things that i knew about him from growing up with him. things i learned about him while dating him. but i was willing to make concessions for him. was it because it was right to be with him or because it was such a good story (think about it: childhood enemies turned lovers. and our families get along!) that i was willing to settle? a deal killer is a deal killer. period. and having another girlfriend, no matter how honest you think you are being, is a big ole fat deal killer.
ARE YOU KIDDING ME? you chose her buddy. I'm not going to be your second choice. EVER. and at least have enough respect to call me in advance to make plans. i guess some people never change. he's probably never had someone not jump at the chance to go out with him, or had someone not be willing to be second choice. hey, at his peak, you were lucky to be ANY choice to him. i got news for you buddy.
i'll take my tool box of memories of us growing up and pack them away in the shed out back. and i'm sure i'll see you around at some of the bars...like i said, this town ain't that big. but i can't waste my time hanging out with a d-bag who doesn't put me first when there are PLENTY of d-bags out there willing to put me first. hey, a girl's gotta eat.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
oh yes I will use you for your condo
It's been almost a year since I met one of my favorite bar stars. We met during a costume party...at a bar (i mean really, where else would I meet someone of this d-bag caliber?) He was dressed as (hint: the most creative male costume known to man)... a well endowed athlete. Yes, he had big socks placed inconspicuously (or maybe not so inconspicuously). I believe I punched his socks as he walked by and that is how we got to where we are today. That and the fact that he played baseball at an ivy league school and had a phat condo.
I got ditched the night I met sock boy. He and his friends were kind enough to wait outside with me while I got a cab. A few short text messages later, I realized we were about to text our way to love. It became a weekend event. One of us would text the other and we would meet up while out on the town. If he rolled the dice right, which he usually did since his tab was ALWAYS open, then I would go back to his place for a night cap. The first time we walked (yes folks, we're responsible) back to his condo, upon realizing where we were going, I said "you seriously live at such and such?" and he said "you will not be using me for my condo." I replied with "oh, I most certainly will." We had several fun after parties of two at his audacious (does that word even fit?) condo with spectacular views.
My favorite after party was the night he called and said he was sweaty and needed to come over. I lived in a condo about 12 blocks away from his, but four blocks from the 80's club. I had just gotten home from a holiday party with yet another winner and the thought of sock boy was invigorating (still is, actually). Sock boy showed up, drenched in sweat from head to toe. It was almost Christmas and freezing outside. I asked him why he was so sweaty and he said "I have been pumping my fist for three hours." Of course you have, sock boy. You WERE at the 80's club, after all. Sock boy comes inside, removes his construction worker boots and blue jeans, climbs into bed and passes out. The next morning, he wakes up, asks me how he got there and then wants to know why his jeans are wet. I DO NOT KNOW. you said you were PUMPING your fist for THREE hours. Maybe your testicle implants leaked? You got me, buddy.
I stopped making a habit out of sock boy after that episode. It just got weird. Plus, by this time, I had a crush on sock boy. but true to the rules of dooshbaggery, he could never actually call me to take me on a date - he just would make empty promises of taking me to dinner. he was a master dooshbag artist. He would text me just enough to keep me intrigued, and call spontaneously enough to keep me thinking he had a crush of his own. Every now and then I still get a text or a facebook message from him. He also drunk dialed me and told me he missed me and he needed me. I also have a hilarious picture of his BICEP that he texted me one night. The last time I saw sock boy was the last time I went out alone (those always seem to be the craziest nights). He wanted me to come to the bar with the outside patio. I went because the tomato farmer was at the same bar and also wanted me to come by. I knew it would cause a ruckus. I made sock boy walk me back to my car, we kissed, and that was it.
Sock boy never really disappears though. He called me the other day from his work phone to say hi and to tell me he was going to take me to dinner after his vacation. He's been back from vacation for a week and I've heard nothing. Which is fine. He's a sweet guy, really smart, really sexy, but he's also the same kind of guy who dresses up as a well endowed athlete and plays poker 6 days a week. Sock boy is the kind of guy that is so hard to let go of but you know you should.
You can't change a dooshbag, not matter how much you really believe they don't want to be a dooshbag. I guess it isn't fair to call sock boy a doosh. He's a tool. He can't help it. It's the way boys are these days. At least he's a sweet tool. And costume season is quickly approaching...perhaps I should go to a party at the 80's club?
I got ditched the night I met sock boy. He and his friends were kind enough to wait outside with me while I got a cab. A few short text messages later, I realized we were about to text our way to love. It became a weekend event. One of us would text the other and we would meet up while out on the town. If he rolled the dice right, which he usually did since his tab was ALWAYS open, then I would go back to his place for a night cap. The first time we walked (yes folks, we're responsible) back to his condo, upon realizing where we were going, I said "you seriously live at such and such?" and he said "you will not be using me for my condo." I replied with "oh, I most certainly will." We had several fun after parties of two at his audacious (does that word even fit?) condo with spectacular views.
My favorite after party was the night he called and said he was sweaty and needed to come over. I lived in a condo about 12 blocks away from his, but four blocks from the 80's club. I had just gotten home from a holiday party with yet another winner and the thought of sock boy was invigorating (still is, actually). Sock boy showed up, drenched in sweat from head to toe. It was almost Christmas and freezing outside. I asked him why he was so sweaty and he said "I have been pumping my fist for three hours." Of course you have, sock boy. You WERE at the 80's club, after all. Sock boy comes inside, removes his construction worker boots and blue jeans, climbs into bed and passes out. The next morning, he wakes up, asks me how he got there and then wants to know why his jeans are wet. I DO NOT KNOW. you said you were PUMPING your fist for THREE hours. Maybe your testicle implants leaked? You got me, buddy.
I stopped making a habit out of sock boy after that episode. It just got weird. Plus, by this time, I had a crush on sock boy. but true to the rules of dooshbaggery, he could never actually call me to take me on a date - he just would make empty promises of taking me to dinner. he was a master dooshbag artist. He would text me just enough to keep me intrigued, and call spontaneously enough to keep me thinking he had a crush of his own. Every now and then I still get a text or a facebook message from him. He also drunk dialed me and told me he missed me and he needed me. I also have a hilarious picture of his BICEP that he texted me one night. The last time I saw sock boy was the last time I went out alone (those always seem to be the craziest nights). He wanted me to come to the bar with the outside patio. I went because the tomato farmer was at the same bar and also wanted me to come by. I knew it would cause a ruckus. I made sock boy walk me back to my car, we kissed, and that was it.
Sock boy never really disappears though. He called me the other day from his work phone to say hi and to tell me he was going to take me to dinner after his vacation. He's been back from vacation for a week and I've heard nothing. Which is fine. He's a sweet guy, really smart, really sexy, but he's also the same kind of guy who dresses up as a well endowed athlete and plays poker 6 days a week. Sock boy is the kind of guy that is so hard to let go of but you know you should.
You can't change a dooshbag, not matter how much you really believe they don't want to be a dooshbag. I guess it isn't fair to call sock boy a doosh. He's a tool. He can't help it. It's the way boys are these days. At least he's a sweet tool. And costume season is quickly approaching...perhaps I should go to a party at the 80's club?
I've been reflecting on the last year and a half of my life, and I've realized a lot of things. Things about life, growing up, compassion, honesty and love. Things about what I want out of life. And what I want in a companion. I use the term husband flippantly. The girls and I will be getting decked out for an event and I will say "let's go meet our husbands, girls!" or I will meet someone and say "he is not my husband" or "there's a good chance he's my husband." It's all in fun, but I think about the poor schmucks we meet along the way and how we've analyzed them until there is nothing left, and there is no chance on the planet that they could ever be our husbands.
I lost control the minute I got off the chair lift and spent a year crashing down the black diamond before landing in a heap at the bottom, appendages going in all directions. It's funny how much you learn about yourself, and what you want out of life, and out of a companion, while crashing into trees, losing your poles, breaking your skis, and forgetting to zip up your fleece. ok, ENOUGH with the ski analogies.
seriously though, i've been learning a lot about things in general. like the fact that i HATE punctuation. i think the term son of a bitch is under rated. and mixed CDs are never a bad thing. and the fact that i have a LONG long long list of d-bags that i need to catch my blog friends up on. I better get to work. there are only a few more days before the next round of tool boxing commences.
I lost control the minute I got off the chair lift and spent a year crashing down the black diamond before landing in a heap at the bottom, appendages going in all directions. It's funny how much you learn about yourself, and what you want out of life, and out of a companion, while crashing into trees, losing your poles, breaking your skis, and forgetting to zip up your fleece. ok, ENOUGH with the ski analogies.
seriously though, i've been learning a lot about things in general. like the fact that i HATE punctuation. i think the term son of a bitch is under rated. and mixed CDs are never a bad thing. and the fact that i have a LONG long long list of d-bags that i need to catch my blog friends up on. I better get to work. there are only a few more days before the next round of tool boxing commences.
I know I called you, but WHO are you?
Awhile back, my girlfriends and I rented a cabin in the mountains and enjoyed a relaxing weekend of debauchery and tomfoolery (I just had to use both words in one sentence). We met some funny people along the way, including one who lived in the same town we live in. I got his number, he got mine, and we went along our merry ways.
Several months, yes months, later, while on a bar crawl and looking through my phone, I realized I had the number of someone I did not know. I actually thought it was the number of a friend by the same name. I called, looking for my friend of the same name, only to discover it was the guy from the mountain bar. We agreed to meet up. And we did. And it was fun. We started hanging out regularly, and every time we were together, the same thought ran through my mind..."this guy could be my best friend."
At the same time I was hanging out with this guy, I was involved with some event planning that was taking up a lot of my time and energy. He lost his cool and he lost me. It was a shame too, because he was a good guy and had such a great sense of humor and seemed to really believe in southern charm, hospitality and chivalry.
Every now and again, he'll cross my mind and I will laugh. Although we didn't spend much time together, we did get to know each other pretty well. But then I think about how we met - at a mountain bar and the fact that I had to call him to find out who he was in order to actually meet him. And that makes me laugh harder.
Several months, yes months, later, while on a bar crawl and looking through my phone, I realized I had the number of someone I did not know. I actually thought it was the number of a friend by the same name. I called, looking for my friend of the same name, only to discover it was the guy from the mountain bar. We agreed to meet up. And we did. And it was fun. We started hanging out regularly, and every time we were together, the same thought ran through my mind..."this guy could be my best friend."
At the same time I was hanging out with this guy, I was involved with some event planning that was taking up a lot of my time and energy. He lost his cool and he lost me. It was a shame too, because he was a good guy and had such a great sense of humor and seemed to really believe in southern charm, hospitality and chivalry.
Every now and again, he'll cross my mind and I will laugh. Although we didn't spend much time together, we did get to know each other pretty well. But then I think about how we met - at a mountain bar and the fact that I had to call him to find out who he was in order to actually meet him. And that makes me laugh harder.
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