It’s raining men!

It seemed like just week that the fields were fallow…and there weren’t any dateable men in sight. I was (and still am, sort of) pining helplessly over M, the gorgeous tattooed/bearded but ultimately unavailable man I reconnected with about a month ago. No one else was that exciting.

This past Thursday someone randomly popped into my head – a man I once knew and worked with (actually, Kat and I both knew and worked with him). JP. I’ve known him since I was 19 (when I was a teen wife!), and never considered him “that” way. The first time I even perceived him as a sexual being at all was when he started dating another girl we both worked with – they were together for three years, with complications that I’ll leave out. (They are broken up and the girl is again with her child’s father.) I considered texting him to say hello, but I wound up getting distracted and went to work out. When I checked my phone later…a text – from JP. “Hey, I know this is really random, but I was just thinking of you and wondering how you were doing.”

I was blown away by the weirdness of it. This is someone that I’ve barely seen since we stopped working together, except for a few bump-ins at the gym. I remarked how, strange as it was, I’d been thinking of him as well. We small talked over text for a few days. Then yesterday, while I was lounging poolside with another long-lost pal, he invited me to a fire/cookout/swim party at his house on the lake. I said I’d make an appearance later. A few things were running through my head. This is a person that I’ve  never considered romantically before. But I had to admit…he is attractive (although not at all my usual “type”  – he’s very clean cut, short light brown hair, no hope of a beard…but a very, very nice body…) and an unquestionably interesting person.

My friend Jenna’s fiancé brought one of his friends to their house, since they were doing demo on a house they’re remodeling nearby. Said friend was not my type, no attraction. But he seemed fixated on me, especially when I was in the pool. He admired my tattoo and asked who did my work. When we were hanging by the fire I remember talking about my love of living alone because of “naked breakfast” and that I wear lingerie around the house by myself. True things, but not said to impress or titillate. I was also swooning over Jenna’s 7-month old saying I couldn’t wait to get knocked up. SEXY right? I got in my car to leave and as I was driving, I noticed something white and square sticking up from under my windshield. I pulled over to see what it was – a note, written in man-cursive “Victoria, would love to get to know you better, maybe go for sushi sometime? -Andy. Phone number.” Hmm. Cute right? I texted him today saying I would love to get together…as friends “at least.” Giving a guy false hope isn’t right…

As I was driving through the woods towards JP’s house, beneath the moonlight and among fireflies, I couldn’t help but feel that fluttery feeling that I get when I like someone. What?! So strange. The party… lots of fun people, plenty of booze (jager shots and PBR make me friendly.. oh, and I’m drinking again) and a beautiful night swim out to the dock in the middle of the lake. It was a carefree and perfect summer night. Like an Abercrombie ad. I was so thankful for every oblique twist I’ve done over the last six months to get my body in the condition that it’s in. So more shots were had, and JP was pretty drunk at this point, much more so than I was since he had been outdrinking me about 3:1 and had thrown Crown Royal into the mix. It was a great time…good people, a little rowdy, but I was so enjoying being near JP and it seemed pretty mutual. I was taking care of him — I rubbed aloe on his sunburned shoulders and made sure he was drinking water, and he asked me if I would “tuck him in.” When the friends had gone home or off to different corners to sleep, we went in his room.

I read (amazingly, I can read when I’m hammered) to him from the Zombie Combat Manual and before I knew it, we were cuddled right up together. We’d been flirting all night. I happen to love when this happens. No real intentions, but it feels so good to give in to mutual attraction. We talked and lay together for hours, he wrapped me up so tightly. Before I knew it he was kissing me, and I felt the sparks I’m always talking about. Fireworks. Rockets. Meteoric. It’s the only kind of feeling you should be having when kissing someone for the first time, I think. I was surprised though – I thought that my attachments to M would get in the way of me enjoying something with someone else. But nope. It was a great fucking night. He even kissed my forehead.  And although we both woke up hungover, I still have a pretty good feeling about it. He likes cats, after all.

Meanwhile – I checked my Facebook and I had two separate messages – both from different guys I worked with at different jobs. One of whom I went on one date with and had no desire to pursue things with but continues to ask me out occasionally asked me out again, and another, more intriguing message. This from a fellow I worked with at my last job who I barely knew, but thought was nice/cute/interesting – said “This is really weird, but I was wondering if I could take you out for a drink. I have had a crush on you since we worked at ecoast, and I had to say something.” Hmm. I responded to him saying I definitely would, and the other two that I would prefer to be friends. An intriguing and sudden influx of interested men outside of match.com this weekend.

As an anecdote I should add – I did go on a match.com date with a 35 year-old English/social studies teacher on Friday night. It turned out to be fun, but kind of mediocre. Went smoothly but no big sparks. I don’t think he liked me because at the end he jumped up and said he had to get going and in the parking lot said “we should do this again sometime,” which means we won’t. But I’m cool with that. For some reason I get the sense that looking for “love” online just doesn’t really work that well. As much as I date and have dated, I just feel like I’m going to wind up with someone that I already know…

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Single as fuck

Single inspiration. Enjoy, bitches. ♥

Embrace the singleness. Get okay with it.


“Yes dating”

It’s no secret that I’m notoriously picky about the men I go out with. Most of them don’t stick around for various reasons – I tend to not even give a guy a chance if he doesn’t meet certain criteria out of the gate. I prefer a man who is at least as financially stable as I am. I prefer creative types. I fetishize beards. I know what I like. The clean-shaven, dude-guy look just isn’t my thing. I screen guys heavily and I tend to put them through the ringer. And I’m still single. And starting to wonder if my choosiness isn’t becoming my worst enemy in finding fiery romantic love. I can’t date a “regular” guy. Or can I?

A few years ago, I read a book called The Year of Yes. It was memorable to me – the author, finicky much like myself, decides to take a year and say yes to every single guy who asks her out. Of course the results are at turns hilarious and heartbreaking. Just say yes. Check your judgments, don’t analyze where it can go or if he’s your type – just do it. Yes dating.

Last night I went out with Jake, a perfectly nice gentleman who happens to be a musician. He had the creative vibe I liked. His music isn’t what I’m into – apparently somewhere between Opeth and Iron Maiden. (I like good old-fashioned metal sometimes, but I’m more into hardcore/grindcore/industrial/doom) I’d been talking to him for ages on and off, he’d quit match.com where we initially met and he had friended me on Facebook, leaving me with a “real person” vibe. Hang ups? He went to school for a year or two, didn’t finish, and racked up oodles of student loan and credit card debt and is now living with his dad whilst working full time, third shift, at a factory, with no end in sight. He also lives an hour away. I had fun with him (had Chinese food and saw Rock of Ages – hilarious good time) and he was a FLAWLESS GENTLEMAN but I couldn’t help but wonder where it could possibly go. No kiss goodnight. Lately, my heart has been tied to someone else – someone I can’t have and need to get over; the sooner the better.

I want to stay open to exploring different things. I also finally started talking to a chap who suits my type a bit more. His initials are CK and his real name is the same as a certain famous designer. He’s got the rockabilly look with knuckle and throat tattoos (be still my heart) but admittedly drinks as a hobby and doesn’t read books. His approach wasn’t the norm either. He gave me his number right off – at first I never texted him and then lost the email that contained it. Yesterday I randomly asked him for it again and he gave it to me again and I went for it. Why the fuck not, right? Do opposites attract? I didn’t mind texting about chainsaws and sex at nine in the morning. It was candid and refreshing.

Some of my favorite relationships in my past are with men who didn’t meet my initial expectations or standards. Which, I’ve been told by many, are irrationally high. Charlotte York high. I want good on paper and in bed, and to be blown away with attraction and mesmerizing chemistry. ALL AT THE SAME TIME. I’m thinking perhaps, just perhaps, yes dating could be the way to go for the time being. At least until the real thing comes along…



Secret single behavior…’fess up, ladies!

As with many single gals, I have plenty of SSB – secret single behavior. About six years’ worth, because that’s how long I’ve lived alone. On Sex and the City, as Carrie is contemplating moving in with Aidan, she contemplates how living with a man is going to interfere with her SSB. (Eating saltines with grape jelly while standing in the kitchen reading fashion magazines, to name just one.) There are certain things we just don’t DO with men around. And when you live alone, you don’t realize how fucking weird you are until faced with cohabitation. Namely with a man.

I laughed out loud at the HelloGiggles post – some of them on there I do. Last night for instance: I was in a particularly shitty emotional place. I went to Target for a picture frame for a new print I have and came out with everything from their food section and of course forgot the frame. I wasn’t even in the mood to buy nail polish. I know. I took my sad gal self home and had tater tots and a Magnum ice cream bar for dinner. Unapologetically. And it was damn good. I even posted about it on my Facebook. Evidently, weirdness for being a single grown-up can sometimes be publicly applauded if it’s humorous enough. For the record, I usually have salad for dinner.

What are my secret-secret SSBs? The usual pinching, poking, plucking, trimming, shaving. Looking at myself in the mirror too much whilst making faces. Checking out my pores (just like Charlotte) and picking at blemishes. Singing songs to my cats. Making eggs while being topless (almost every morning – I sort of doubt a man would complain about that, but you never know). I listen to the same song over and over sometimes, which I’d never do if someone was around. (A lot of times that involves Blondie.) And obviously I’ve seen each episode of Sex and the City at least 20 times, and I wish I were exaggerating about that. Oh and The Hills seasons 2-4 are my absolute favorite things to watch over and over. I really love Lauren Conrad and Audrina Patridge more than it’s okay to admit.

Now, you’ll have to excuse me…I have another super late dinner in the makings and I think it may entail chips, pickles, really good chocolate and sliced deli cheese. This is just where I’m at in life right now. Oh, and I’m totally spending the night with my boyfriend. And by boyfriend I mean Javier Bardem. And he won’t even be speaking English tonight. *wink*

Please tell us about your own SSB in the comments!



Scruff snag: V shares an awkward dating moment

Remember when I blogged about C? His fadeout and slow texting? Well, last week we went out on a belated second date. Here’s my thing – dating someone and getting to know them has to have some momentum. If you meet someone and like them you should see them again soon. Like, in the next week, ideally. C and I lost momentum. I was still excited to see him though – I believed him to be very cute, and he had a good job, a nice looking tattoo and he could spell things correctly.

I met him after work one evening at an Irish fusion restaurant downtown. It’s a big spot for beer, but I’ve recently decided to quit drinking – so iced tea it was. I rambled briefly about my decision (not that I felt he was owed explanation, but most people wonder because it’s not the norm).  The service was lightening fast – more like McDonald’s than a nice restaurant – and as I looked over at him across my smoked salmon spinach salad, I wondered what the hell to talk about. My recent reconnection with someone from my past obviously wasn’t on the discussion board, so we made inane chatter about our work. His work sounds moderately important; I have sort of an Office Space type job that I’m reluctant to talk about for fear of putting my companions into a coma. The result was lots of awkward silence. My eyes darted around the restaurant. Holy shit, I thought to myself. This is really bad.

After our brief, drinkless, desertless meal, C suggested going for ice cream, and since I’m still eating dairy, I obliged. We walked to Izzy’s and he bought me a cone of peppermint stick. We walked around the little seaport town and the conversation started to improve. I was carrying it with my witty jokes and he was laughing along. I made a mess of my ice cream cone by not licking it fast enough (ha…) and so my fingers were as sticky as a five year-old’s. I ducked into a bar to use their facilities and afterward we continued to stroll around. Wasn’t bad…wasn’t great…but I was like, “ok, I do like this guy. Or at the very least I don’t dislike him. I want to know him better. I’m willing to get to know him and put in the time.”

The night drew to a close and I offered to drive him to his car. He accepted, and when we pulled into the lot next to his truck (with a vanity plate…with his name! Oh heavens) he had his hand on the door latch of my car. Which was child-locked. Maybe this was the moment to see, if there was any…chemistry. He seemed like a caged animal but I decided to go for it anyway. I’d been talking about how I missed baths (no soaking fresh ink!) during our walk, and he said he was going to take one when he got home, so we were sort of joking about that for a second. We contorted into a car-hug and separated; I searched his eyes for a nanosecond then leaned in for a kiss. A quick double-peck. Separated again. My long hair was caught in his beard scruff. Oh, the shame of pulling my hair out of his beard scruff after that fast, forced, junior-high kiss. The shame. “Enjoy your bath,” I called, and he went off into the night.

I texted him when I got home, because in spite of my awkward moment, I’m confident in my underlying coolness and overlying hotness, and was certain that there was absolutely no way he would NOT want to see me again. “Had fun tonight, let’s hang this weekend?” I suggested. He replied “I’ll have to let you know, I have a busy one ahead.” Then some comment about my tattoo being featured on the tattoo artist’s Facebook page. I asked him to “keep me posted,” but you know he never did. So long, C. I really do hope you enjoyed your bath.



Alternate endings are only meant for movies

“..all my resistance will never be distance enough” – Anna Nalick, Wreck of the Day

This is a sad story. In December 2007, I met an amazing and beautiful man. I was twenty-two years old. Still naïve in so many ways. He struck me – he was warm, gentle, and kind. He was intelligent and creative. Covered in tattoos. Screamed and played guitar in a pretty famous hardcore band. Did installation and graffiti art. We met on MySpace in its glory days, when it was okay to do such things. On our second “date” we took a spontaneous trip to Boston…on New Year’s Eve. This is an excerpt from my blog that I kept religiously (and naturally, privately) at the time:

 “We walked all around the city in the freezing cold, then we decided to run, so we ran as fast as we could down the streets, and it was so much fun. Then I felt midnight was close, so I looked at my phone, it was 11:59 and you could feel the energy of the entire city pulsing as the clock struck. We kissed in front of Lord & Taylor. It was incredibly romantic. We walked for the longest time with his arm around me, and it fit and felt so right and good. On the ride home, I kind of slept and we touched hands and wrists and fingers…you know, that little stuff at first feels so intimate. He makes me really happy when I’m with him.

The kiss, too. It was like a movie kiss. Maybe even better. Lights and people and taxi cabs and stars. His hands in my hair. It was pretty sensational…”

When I met him I was smitten over someone else, but when he kissed me on the midnight street (just like the David Gray song) things changed. I became…intoxicated. We had insane fun together. He was vegan and straight edge which meant that the things that most people ingest were things he wouldn’t touch. I admired that he was so different. He knew a lot about things. He’d traveled the world and was passionate and thoughtful. Oh, and by far the best lover I had ever experienced. I marveled over his colorful, tattooed body. He was impossibly sexy and exuded a warmth I’d never known.

The problem was, he was in another world. When I was 22, he was 30. He was elusive, to say the least. We would hang out and hook up, and he would vanish for days or weeks on end. It hurt and puzzled me. But then he would come back, and we’d pick things up again and I’d wonder why I had been so worried. Eventually though, I grew tired of feeling so neglected. When I finally worked up the courage to ask him “where things were going,” with us he gave a slew of gently spun excuses – he was unhappy with his job, going through a serious bout of depression, and as I found out later, a pretty rough time with his ex of six years. He didn’t play any intentional games, I don’t think, but I was hurt circumstantially and it sucked. It took quite a long time for me to get over him. The only way to do that properly, is to carve someone from your life completely.

Three years later, he added me on Facebook. He apologized for the way things ended. At the time I think I was dating a former friend and gallery buddy of his, an artist who broke my heart in the end. We went out a couple of times – as friends – and stayed in contact every now and then. He went places. Central America. Alaska. Ireland. He sent postcards. We went for tea when he would come back from trips. There were times I could feel my desire for him rising but I never acted on it. I didn’t dare to. He was huge risk, one I wasn’t willing to take. Then he had a girlfriend. Over a year passed without seeing him at all.

A couple of weeks ago he invited me (along with many) to a show of his. I went. The sounds were penetrating: Like the end of the world. I had noticed he wasn’t with said girl, at least not according to Facebook. I went up to him after the show (after steeling my nerves) and exchanged small talk with my friend there. I mentioned something about getting in touch or getting together. He said he’d look me up. I got a text from him when I got home that night. A week later, I was getting a tattoo finished and we’d made plans to hang out afterwards. And, hang we did. For thirteen hours. We watched a movie, connected, and talked, talked, talked. The rare and soul-bending kind. We went out in the monsoon to get food, he beat me miserably at air hockey, and we went back to his place and talked…listened to music…got totally lost in each other’s company. It was friendship set on fire which is how I hear things are supposed to be. We flirted coyly for hours before he eventually asked if he could kiss me. Which I loved. And kiss we did. For hours and hours… that was pretty all we did (not without burning desire to do everything), but it was every bit electrifying as I remember.

I left his apartment at 4:30 am on Sunday. I was euphoric. He sent me a very sweet text later that morning, saying it was “really, really good talking and reconnecting, getting to know each other…better than before. Let’s meet again, soon?” I responded in kind – and then he ghosted. That was it. I sent him a few texts over the week and his responses were quite short and disinterested. I said we needed to get together soon, and he agreed. Then I asked him what his weekend looked like, and he listed a fully packed schedule from Friday night through Sunday night. Oh. Okay. I told him to let me know when he’s free, and he said “Totally, you bet.”

Needless to say I was sad. I was high on the feeling when I left him and I began to crumble when I didn’t hear from him right away. This prompted me to read back in my old blog, the entries I wrote during the time we had been seeing each other years ago. Events came swirling back. The same thing was happening again. I was disintegrating. We aren’t even involved and I’m already falling apart. As much as I have “experience” in dating, men don’t typically get under my skin like this. Like, ever. But for some reason, I fell down the rabbit hole. I don’t know how. He’s extraordinary. There was an inexplicable connection that ignited and I had thought, or at least hoped, that it was mutual. Neither of us had seemed to want to end our time together. Suddenly…I’d become invisible, and before I knew it…I was again listening to the same sad-girl songs and crying into my cat’s fur.

Kicking myself that I fell into it again. Almost five years later and nothing’s different. I’m twenty-six now. He’s thirty-four. I would think that everything, everything I’ve gone through during the last several tumultuous, wrenching years would have taught me to lower my expectations, to somehow not be so vulnerable and fragile; to expect so much. I wanted so badly to rewrite things with this man. But I can’t. He’s someplace else and always will be. And it seems dramatic to say, but all I know is how I feel. Shattered.


Mistakes guys make with online dating

Ooooooh boy. This is kind of a minefield topic so I may start slow and edit along. Disclaimer real quick though: There’s nothing wrong with online dating per se. I personally don’t have much success with it but my odds are still greater than the chances of meeting the man of my dreams while sitting on my futon watching movies with Greta Garbo and Bette Davis. I digress…

  • Posing with a child or children in your profile picture. Confusing! I have to check to make sure you don’t already have kids. Because, you bet your bippy, I don’t want no baby mama drama.
  • Trying to “IM” me. Who IM’s? Reminds me of AOL instant messenger in high school only you’re no one I want to talk to. I honestly think it’s one of the most irritating forms of communication. Just call someone already! I never respond.
  • Weird compliments. One guy recently said I have great dimples in one picture and I should “smile like that all the time!” Um. I have dimples pretty much every time I smile and I can only genuinely smile one way.
  • Living hundreds of miles away and messaging me with pining messages. What’s your point, exactly?
  • Messages that just say “hey, how’s it going?” We aren’t friends, so why would I talk to you like I already know you?
  • Begging to “let them” take me out. When I politely decline, groveling ensues. “Please? Just one date? I promise you’ll like me.” Ugh why!?
  • hey. your very pretty.    y don’t we chat sum time?
  • Email blasts. For awhile I kept getting messages from a dude who’d say “Hi, my name is Justan. I just read your profile and we have a lot in common. Message me if you’re interested!” Or some lame shit that was not at all directed to me, because this was some army guy (USA love) who was clearly a meathead and possibly has never read a book ever. Dating isn’t a numbers game so don’t treat it like a marketing venture. Please.
  • Profile picture deceit! Concealing lazy eyes with good photo angles should be a crime punishable by the gods of match.com! But mostly…you just looked better online.
  • Shirtless pictures in a bathroom mirror taken with a cell phone. Never ever can I say that my husband or my cat’s stepfather would ever do that.
  • Saying stupid shit. “You like wine too? You don’t get too drunk off some of the good stuff right?” I never responded and a day later, “You know _______ is such a great town except my GPS always loses itself on The ______ Turnpike. What kinds of thing do you like to do around ________?” Hm. Clearly you haven’t been to my town because it sucks. What do I like to do? Honestly what an inane question. Read my profile you dumb shit, I outline it for you.

It has come to my attention that I’m a complete bitch.

Over and out!