A slight concern.

There are three major reasons a relationship doesn't work that all have to do with compatibility.

The first reason is personality compatibility.

The second reason is lifestyle compatibility.

The third reason is a combination of both.

In the light of my & BG's date last night I've been pondering this thought. In all sense, BG is basically a skinner, taller version of my rocker ex. They are both in bands, both audio engineers, both into a more "rock & roll lifestyle," both dependent on roommates for financial support. The key to the next step for me is to understand if the rocker and I didn't work because of our personalities, our lifestyles or the combo package and make sure BG doesn't fall into that same category if I'm going into this scientifically safe.

I believe Rocker & my lifestyles didn't fit and that was the main reason for the break up. I grew up in our relationship, graduated from college, went from roommate to living on my own, got a full time job, believed in monogamy - he didn't. He waked & baked, was single when the band played their gigs, lost his job and never got another one and maintained living in a house with 4 guys at the age of 33. We actually clicked personality wise which is what made me stay so much longer than I should have.

I'm afraid that BG is the same person in a different form. I know he occasionally enjoys a joint or two during practice, he plays 2 gigs a week and has no want to move from his 2 roommates place. But on the other hand, he's college educated so he's got that one up on the old one.

It's times like this where I wish RS and I had just maintained a friendship and not become FB's because his inside knowledge would help ...

Who am I?

I’m about to verge on a lofty week, one of those weeks where you realize a relationship just doesn’t work with this kind of lifestyle.

On Saturday I woke up with a hangover of the biggest kind, the one where you move slightly to the right and a sharp pain reverbs to the back of your neck, the kind where your stomach grumbles for some sort of liquid that doesn’t contain any alcohol. Friday night was a fundraising event for a local museum, so I left work late to get ready. Upon arriving to the actual event, I realized my house keys were still on my kitchen table so I did the only thing I could think of, I drank – a lot – at the event. On my third martini (and no dinner, I might add) the couples surrounding me got to me and a sudden swamping feeling of loneliness over came me. I chatted with a couple friends, but the booze was definitely kicking in when I did something all of you will judge as the not-to-good move. Upon realizing that I may not have a place to sleep and that engulfing loneliness, I texted RS.

Going off of our regular “What Are You Wearing?” flirtation, I texted, “Red dress, 4” Mary Janes, naughty lace thong, corset – so WRUW?”

“Work clothes, hoping to get out of here soon.”

“Midnight romp?”

“Going out with friends, don’t think I’ll be home.”

“Can be later …”

No response. Fourth martini, “Guess not, I’ll be out of your hair.” And I actually meant it.

I ended up heading over to a local bar, where I bumped into a buddy from bowling and BG. We drank to our hearts content and BG and I talked about his looming feelings and what he wanted from me. It was simple, he wanted me to be all his and not as a friend. Perhaps it was the beer, perhaps it was the loneliness, but I agreed to indulge his fantasy on Sunday by attending a private event that was invitation-only, as his official date.

Back to Saturday. My phone rang and I turned to pick it up, answering #1’s call with a very distinct “OWW.” We firmed our lunch plans at B-W’s and I sauntered to the shower, catching a glimpse of my make up from last night still planted on my face – or cheeks to be more exact. My hair was curly and crazy and I sat in the shower praying that the water would absorb into my skin appropriately and I would be renewed.

Saturday was not much of anything, I ended up taking a nap upon returning home only to wake up and realize that I’m not happy with who I am completely. Then I did something drastic, I decided instead of bitching about it – I’d do something about it. Tomorrow.

Sunday morning I woke up to messed up sheets and a kitty purring on my arm. The atrocious feeling of my lack of respect for myself flooded me. I tried to close my eyes and make it go away, as they were shut I remembered what I decided the night before – I was going to do something about it.

I got dressed for the gym and headed over to Target to buy a scale and a couple pubs and some new conditioner. Then I worked out. BG called while I was at the gym to confirm plans and I hesitated in my yes, but I decided I should give it a shot. I stopped at Walgreens and bought foundation and nail polish and headed to the grocery store for spinach and fish to make for lunch and dinner for the rest of the week.

BG picked me up at 7:00 and we had a great time, returning my screwdriver filled ass home and giving him a quick kiss goodbye. I headed up the stairs, into the shower and resolved that I would still get up and go to the gym tomorrow morning.

The alarm rang at 6, I reset it for 6:45. It rang again in what seemed like mere seconds and I laid in bed staring at the cracked ceiling wondering if the changes could wait for tomorrow. If they could I would indulge in Chinese for lunch and a bottle of wine over “Heroes” tonight. Bumpkin heard me stirring so he jumped on my bed, head butted me as if to say “pet me quickly and feed me now.” On the ground were my sweats and a baseball hat, I quickly changed and drove slowly (due to the overnight snow) to the gym. I had only 20 minutes to work out, but I did it. I also resolved to go back to the gym over lunch.

I’m doing something about it. I’ve deleted the existence of RS from my world, including gathering any picture evidence of our once co-mingling worlds and didn’t just put them out of sight, but put them into the garbage, tied up the bag and put it in the trash can outside, smiling in that kind of “you aren’t going to defeat me” kind of way. I banned him from chats and erased him from my phone.

My schedule doesn’t permit for a regular routine working schedule, so I will work out for 20 minutes if it’s all I have and I will do it multiple times a day if it’s all I can muster. I will also readjust my schedule, I can’t always say yes they will need to give me time for me even if I have to schedule it in the calendar that way.

I will regain myself.

Single & Mingle - Whole Foods

Can't believe I forgot to post about the Single & Mingle night at Whole Foods!

The East Side of Milwaukee just opened up a glorified natural food store that's the size of a small island, one of which I haven't checked out yet, so when an email rounded the office of "Single & Mingle" night my initial reaction was - hell yeah! Until the day came and I was exhausted, kept thinking of my impending Saturday night and didn't feel like going.

"20 minutes MG," E begged - who, by the way, was not single but was going to represent herself in such a way to help wing woman the gaggle of our friends (yes, I said gaggle as in a group of geese). "Fine." I pouted, "But I look like shit." "Who cares? You've got enough dudes to deal with any way."

So we headed over, checked in and got our numbers along with our appropriate colored circle to say, in search of "single man" or "single woman" and headed on over to the wine sampling area (you can sample, while you shop! Just buy a card - or, as we found out later, a bottle and have them un-cork it).

At the wine area our friends started to gather, when a beautiful woman tapped me on the shoulder to request how you actually go about participating in the event. I was dubbed the Sherpa and led her the way - the whole time thinking, if she puts on the red color, I might have to switch teams. But alas, she was also seeking the elusive blue sticker (single guy) as well.

The event it self was not earth shattering, very few single guys, but we bought bottles of wine and got the wranglers around to join in our group - therefore making several matches along the way (E & I stayed out of it).

Today, I'm sitting at my computer when the beautiful and fabulous woman emails me - both E & I very much enjoyed her company - and we made plans to get her into our circle of friends. Then out of the blue, I get an email with no subject line - about to Junk it, I actually read the body for the funny content where a guy tells me there's hidden money he'd like to share with me or a new pill which can make my penis larger ...

It's from the utterly, too handsome guy that I passed off to two young ladies. I gave my card to his friend and he got my information from him. We've been chatting all day and I'm hoping he comes to bowling ...

I forgot to mention that it could be disastrous this evening as there's PA who I made out with last night, my new friend that admitted he kind of likes me (I brought two girls who are a way better match to pass off to) and now Mr. Handsome.

Tune in tomorrow!

Today is Wednesday! Plus a bonus recap on a tug boat engineer and poor pick ups.

That means bowling tonight at the Landmark, and some potential making out ... life is good.

Last night my boss and I headed to the Irish Pub for a drink after work, we sat down ordered wine (her) and a beer (me) and chatted a bit before the guy sitting next to us decided to include himself in the conversation. I was a little perturbed by this occasion, as I never get much time with my friend any more and he was by no means was anyone I really wanted to learn more about. In our side conversations we discussed if I should, indeed, return to a non-dating hiatus. Our agreement was no.

She went to the juke box and I pretended to like soccer until dude at the the bar asks me if she's single, "Nope." I replied, "Just moved in with her boyfriend, they're perfect for each other and they are very happy." "Damn. She's so beautiful, of course she's taken." he proceeds.

She comes back and we side track into a catch up on Flower Guy, which he sort of eaves drops on. She leaves for the bathroom and he turns to me, "Are you married?"

"What. Christ no. I'm very single, thank you."

"Can I take you to dinner?"

So here's my thoughts, he's admitted he comes in town for a weekend every 28 days because he operates a tug boat, my second thoughts are if I could, indeed, say no to a bowling make out session, "Because my boyfriend is a tug boat operator." Umm, no. I try to explain that I am, in fact, not in a position to date right now. She returns. He leaves for the bathroom.

"He's very charming." She says, "His story is heartbreaking (forgot to mention he regaled us with a story of how his wife and kids died in a car crash, his brother is a meth head and his other brother is serving 9 years in jail)."

"He's trying to get laid." I snip back.

"I don't think so, why would you say that?"

"Because he first asked me about you, then defaulted to me. Poor dates over the last few years have taught me that." See, I have learned a lesson or two, or twenty. Just sometimes choose not to acknowledge my lessons.

We finish our cocktails and leave.

While this interaction makes for a good story, it did get me to thinking about first impressions and my views of them. When I meet someone I instantly go through a check list of potential compatibility - whether friendship or otherwise - with the opposite sex. Here it is ...

1. Cute? Handsome? Other?
2. Handshake, firm, noodle or otherwise?
3. Speech, possibility of a lisp (note: dated gay guys, this annoys me)
4. Shoulder width - bigger than mine?
5. Height?
6. Conversation - or otherwise, the lack of "like" "dude" and "totally" in a conversation.

This guy fit the list as so ...
1. Other, maybe you could clean him up.
2. Noodle shake, not cute at all.
3. No lisp.
4. Skinny.
5. Tall.
6. Did not use the three "no" words; however, sad stories suck.

Final conclusion, no on friendship and sexual levels.

Days like this.

Wow, today was an okay day. It's incredibly cold in good old Milwaukee which means schools are closed and I'm rescheduling classes left and right since my clients have kids. Problem is, I was a little too good at my job and our classroom is booked. Oops.

On the upside, no scary interventions by Flower Guy. On the downside, #1 is still hounding me about helping find the perfect present for his new girlfriend and I apparently am the master of design. Just because a girl owns a couple designer items doesn't make her an expert, and ironically I could take the label and leave with it as I'm perfectly fine with non-name brand items that do just as much magic on my body.

It turns out I didn't break my pre-bill record, I was $254.00 short. It's depressing on one level because it's a goal not reached, but on the other hand it's the second highest pre-bill to date in the company and I did get the first highest one. Either way, it's so cold that I'd like to warm up at a bar - except no one is drinking tonight.

It's Milwaukee! No one is drinking?? Yup. Not a dime, seems they all are inside cuddling with their significant others and prepping for a night of tv watching while the single friend, aka - me, will have to go by herself or cuddle at home with her cat... decisions, decisions.

In other news, I'm perusing the blogs today at work as a means of trying to get my mind off of work and I bump into this blog: http://blackingfriction.blogspot.com which is incredibly delightful and links to a whole crap load of just as deliciously inviting blogs of the same nature and needless to say, I'm hooked!

Tiffany posted in her blog the other day that she was looking for more to read because some people don't update quite as often as she reads, well check them out!

Birds Eye View ...

So here's my living room in the hopes we'll all understand that when I say I want a couch to take out the dorm-room feel, we know what the dorm room looks like ...

Little Rituals.

When something goes awry in our lives, we have little rituals that we conduct in the hopes of obtaining the old balance of life with out chaos, to regain the order and start again.

In the post break up period it’s often the ritualistic burning that involves at least two of your closest girl friends, a couple bottles of a great chardonnay and a strong merlot, all memorabilia (and let me add there are tears and friends reassuring you they weren’t great times), a metal garbage can and that pack of matches you saved from your first date.

In the wake of a bad date, for me, it’s often scrubbing off any essence of that person from your skin. The smell of their cologne often leads to the perfect first date outfit being washed at least twice, a hot shower that leaves my skin tinged with a bit of pink and then scrubbing off the walls. It also goes towards a little ritualistic self grooming, where I take off the nail polish (and put it in the drawer, never to be used again - or until I forget that I wore it on such an occasion), repaint and then do a little girly facial thing and sit with a mud mask on and watch my favorite show, in this instance - Heroes.

The bad thing about this right now is that it wasn't a bad date - it was a bad person. I sit here and my phone is still beeping with text messages in which he advises me that he's honored to be blog worthy (myspace, not here) followed by a couple more insults. I've even gotten hang ups from 262 area codes that I don't recognize. I hate not being able to even pick up my phone in hopes of not hearing in person what a slut, cunt, bitch I am from a guy that's only known me for a week.

My mask is dry, I washed it off. My nerves are still rattled as I wait to see who Claire's dad is (my assumption, Nathan Petrelli and I'm right ...) and silence my phone when the 262 comes up.

I call #1, my support unit who is in a bad mood and tells me that I get what I paid for. I didn't go with my gut, these are the consequences. I tell him that he's some friend ... hang up, have a smoke in the cold where I fear if I finish the cigarette my finger might just fall off since it's -13.

I bundled up in my robe and finished my last sip of wine and applied just one more coat of clear polish. I think long and hard about relationships and if I should really enjoy another hiatus.

Just as Scrubs is finishing up the last few minutes I indulge in the last point of my ritual, spritzing my bed with girly smelling body spray and I kiss the bumpkin on his head and curl under the sheets because it's ironically so cold - just like the Flower Guy.

Before my eye lids are too heavy to stay open I realize that a hiatus might feel like the right move but I can't give up so easily. I put my phone on silent just in case, and I slumber off to sleep.

Tax Time.

Ah, the joys of tax time – the government informed me that I overpaid by $650.00 which means I get that back, compiled with a large month of record breaking sales and my normal paycheck – Friday’s looking like a pretty good paycheck of $1620.

What to do? Here’s how exciting my life is …

$220 on the car payment
$200 for student loans
$200 repayment for loan from Dad
$100 for insurance
$200 for credit card
$150 for gas bill
$250 for savings

Total: $1320

Leaving … $300 for the Ikea couch I’m going to get to make my apartment grown up!

Can I go back on hiatous now?

Wow. Really think I shouldn't be dating. Let me recap our Superbowl and today for you ...

After knocking back a couple drinks, I get a text message from said date asking me (and this is actually a quote) "did you flash the goods to any bears fans yet?"

That was incredibly underhanded and I stick to my guns when I say that this was the end for me. I don't believe after one date, one week that a person has the right to say that to me. I, in fact, would even dump a boyfriend for that phrase.

Needless to say the text messaging continued and ended today with some rather nasty insults on his part. He asked if the case was closed on us and I said yes. I got this ...

"Then that's f*cked up and you never did like me. Must be hard to like someone when you love yourself so much."

My response ... "You're right, I love myself enough to know that I won't date someone who will make me feel guilty for being who I am. I like you enough to still wish you the best."

His response (seriously, am I the dude in this?): "FYI - I never said you had to change, NEVER. But like I said if you really had a thing for me something so dumb as this wouldn't have changed your feelings."

My next response: "It's too soon to be making territorial comments like that. It's only going to get worse (tic tac comment, I know) - you've got some major self esteem issues that I'm not set to deal with."

And his next comeback? "I have self esteem issues? I don't go around flashing my tits for attention." - Let me add his tits are bigger than mine.

I finally fell completely into his game telling him to lose my number, fuck off and blow himself. Ah - that was classy.

Weigh in - am I being unreasonable in the sense that I don't want to be with someone who would say something like that after one week? Am I being a b*tch because I wouldn't spend the night at a near stranger's house?

And might I add - what ever happened to a classic date - you know the one where you go out and spend time with out having to go to their house? Do I really "love myself" so much that it's wrong of me to expect that?

A leopard can’t change her spots – no matter how much hair dye.

I went on a date with Flower Guy on Saturday, just before hand I had a panic attack – literally. I didn’t want to go, I didn’t know why, I just didn’t want to get in my car and drive. After talking with E & J, they convinced me to go with the exception of meeting in a public place and not his house.

When I arrived we enjoyed a bit of banter and I wasn’t sure why I was so paranoid. We crossed the road for dinner and enjoyed more enlightening conversation – and then he looked at me weird.

“What?”

“I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

“Okay”

“Would you say you’re care-free? A free spirit and a wild child?”

“I’m not sure what you’re asking. Yes I’m care-free, I used to not be and I wasn’t as near charming. But if you’re asking if I cheat, no. I’m sexually liberated, but I’ve never been in a relationship where girl/boyfriend titles were exchanged and dipped into a pool where I didn’t belong.”

“But I’m assuming the boy/girlfriend titles aren’t easily established.”

“No, you have to work for that.”

“See I focus on one person.”

“So do I, for instance I was at a singles event last night and I didn’t get a single number because I’m focused on you.”

“That’s flattering. So do you tame down when you have a boyfriend?”

“Excuse me?”

The whole night this stood in the back of my head like a tic-tac time bomb. We went back to his place to watch a movie, which he insisted on trying to make out and go down my shirt. I was relieved when J called at 9 as promised so I could leave.

It was 9:45 when I insisted on leaving and he insisted on pushing me up against a wall. This is when I realized I like STOCKY guys, not fat guys. His weight against me caused a rush of panic and I ran out of his place.

My phone calls on the hour drive home confirmed the panic that stuck in my brain – was he basically asking me if I change in a relationship because he couldn’t accept who I was? Between 2 girls and 2 guys the answer was, “Yes. That’s exactly what he’s looking for.” And then I wondered to myself, was there something wrong with me being care-free, a free spirit, that has left me by myself for 3 years? I was confused, I started to cry.

I arrived home and text messaged Flower Guy, E & J to let them know I was home safe. Flower Guy then nailed his coffin shut with numerous text messages that completely revealed his insecurity and our incompatibility.

So I did the only thing I knew I could do for clarity. I called an old friend who I have had a previous physical relationship with and asked if we could talk.

On the way JF called and we chatted about his date and then I told him of mine. The thing about JF is that I completely trust him and he can read me in ways no one else could, that’s when he told me that there was nothing wrong with me and that I can’t change – a leopard can’t change her spots and that’s what makes her who she is – other wise she’d try to pass herself off as a lion or a puma or a panther – it just would never work.

When I arrived at OF’s house, I wittily leaned against his salt-stained door and rang the bell. He answered, “Hello?”

“I was told that if a girl wanted to get off – she should come here.”

“Where was this?”

“On the internet.” We kissed. “Let me see if the owner is home.”

“I’m okay with you.”

We made out like high schoolers, kissing and touching but nothing more. His lips and hands were comfort, a little guilt tripped over me that Flower Guy had just done the same, but it wasn’t this feeling. The feeling of trust and comfort.

“So what’s going on?”

I explained the situation, he looked in my eyes. “You are a wild child. You are a free spirit, but you aren’t you with those things. I knew you before you were liberated and this person you’ve become is so much more amazing. Some one will come along that will be okay with your nature and you’ll never have to settle – that’s the relationship urban myth at least.”

“Were you watching Sex and the City?”

“It was late when you called! I don’t have cable. Bite me.” We giggled, I put back on my shirt and kissed him good-bye. It was 6am.

I went home and did the dirty deed of the good-bye email …

“I just wanted to say I did have a good time but the truth is you’re looking for someone I’m not. While I think you’re wonderful, I can’t waste your time. Milwaukee Girl.

When I woke up this morning I looked in the mirror, this leopard is pretty amazing.

Guy's Girl.

I was on the phone with Flower Guy last night after a long day at work in our Madison office. We talked about his work, my day, his friends, his travels, my travels and my friends.

"You seem to have a lot of male friends." he said, "You seem like you're a guys girl, the sports, the humor, everything."

"Yup. Just prefer them I guess, I have female friends too - just not as many close ones." I quipped back.

"So I want to ask you a question, but I'm not sure I want to know the answer or that you want to give me the answer."

"Shoot, I'm an open book."

"How many of them have you been with?"

That's a variation question, it's a lead into the inevitable - how many people have you been with question, but this one even has a bit more sting. Do I tell the truth? If I do, how do I justify it?

And then it dawns on me, the truth is the best response. If he would ever meet them I wouldn't want our huggy natures to be confused with potential cheating, so I answered honestly.

"#1 is my best friend, he's also my ex."

"JF is one of my closest friends, we've made out on occasion"

"Passive aggressive is a great friend, we've made out, but nothing more."

"Admin works with me and I offer to make out with him, he just turns me down."

Silence. Here's where I wonder if I mention RS and I justify that we aren't actually friends, so he doesn't count. Plus he's never been brought up in a conversation.

Still silence, which means I ramble on and on trying to justify it. "I'm one of those people that believes in connections, so whether or not we've ever done anything isn't an issue, it's did we connect - if we did, then they stay. If we didn't - then they go." More rambling, "I mean, I'm not a whore or anything." More silence. "Can you throw me a bone here? I'm rambling and the silence is killing me."

"I'm just listening, it's interesting." He says.

Then we switched subjects, thank god, and went back to Saturday plans.

Bowling Redux.

I'm typing in that hung over, God - why did I do that? state right now. Last night was bowling, which means drinking, smoking and making out. Check, check and check!

Last week I was sober and bowled a mere 54, my team begged me to please drink this week and drinking I did. My score upped to a wonderful 121, good enough for advertising bowling. I also happened to bowl next to Mr. Passive Aggressive from last year and engaged in some witty banter for awhile. My text phone rang from 2 pursuers, and my flirting got higher and higher with my alcohol intake.

And then it happened. I'm not 100% sure how, but there was some smooching with Mr. Passive Aggressive and I forgot what a great kisser he was. I sobered up, left with him (but not LEFT with him), kissed good bye and went home to bed.

In the meantime it seems I've over committed myself once again to engagements, not to Flower Guy's pleasant surprise. I had thought we reschedule our Saturday to Friday, but it was his understanding that I scheduled two dates with him and not just one. Yikes. This didn't go over to well when he finally said, "I don't know how I'm ever going to fit into your world."

My response, "It's your decision - but for three years my work, family and friends have been my world and I just met you, so you don't get priority. You can ease into my world and then you'll become one too."

Not sure how that really set, but now he's getting on my nerves. I know relationships are compromises, but when you first meet you can not compromise who you are and what your life is. Plus he always wants me out there - in Racine. 45 minutes away. Kiss my ass buddy.

What did you do at work today?

Here's what I did!



I love my job.

See how it goes.

Anyone that knows me knows can assure you I’m never at a loss for words, during those awkward moments of silence I’ll bust out something that has nothing to do with anything or use my favorite saying of “so…” but the new guy caught me off guard.

He called after work, I answered and we chatted a bit about the normal get to know you things – how many kids, family married or single, his divorce and our weekend plans. He asked me to spend the night on Saturday, I said I would think about it but I needed to be straight about something – there would be no sex. Which of course led to the sex conversation.

MG: “I’ll be straight with you, there’s no sex until I see test results and I’ll do the same for you.”

NG: “Okay?”

MG: “When you’re in those moments of passion and there’s no condom, I want to know that I’ll be safe – I’m not saying it’ll be done with out a condom, it’s just what I think.”

NG: “I got tested three months ago and haven’t had sex since May.”

MG: “I got tested in August, but we both will need to get tested again – piece of mind.”

NG: “When was the last time you had sex?”

MG: “Doesn’t matter, the test needs to be done.”

Which led into further conversation, one that involved him saying, “While we’re being straight, I’m not looking to just casually date you – I mean, I go into this full force – I want you to be my girlfriend.”

Which leads me back to the first paragraph, the moment that hit my ear a gigantic lump occurred in my throat – the kind that you choke on, you can’t swallow, you can’t talk, you can’t breathe. You just think to yourself, “at this very moment I could die – a really painful, slow death.”

“Is that what you want?”

“We’ll see how this goes. I mean, we just met – you could hate my guts after Saturday.” Diversion, still lump, cough. Still there.

And then went on with normal conversation, but in the back of my head that one sentence – I want you to be my girlfriend – was burnt into my head.

For three years my life hasn’t really circulated around the thought of an “us” or a “we.” Granted, there were small interruptions in the case of CB and somewhat of RS, but never a serious mention on anyone’s part but me. For three years it’s been me, my schedule, what I want to do, when I want to do it. If I feel like having sex, I’ll drive to Madison. If I feel like staying home by myself, taking a bath and listening to girl music, I’ll do it. If I wake up at 7am and decide I’m not going to talk to anyone, I turn off my phone and stay home without anyone knowing the difference. I haven’t had to worry so much about hurt feelings, making time, doing special things, driving to someone else’s place, being their dates at events, meeting parents, making a good impression. Nothing. If this goes somewhere, am I willing to give up all of that for something that could go nowhere?

New Guy.

Okay, scary - but I might actually want to date someone. I met this DJ on Saturday night who is amazingly cute and very sweet - and I got flowers today! It's just a wow, what am I going to do sensation...

Are we ready?

Back in college I did a study on American views for a media class. It was during election time and numerous reports stated that American citizens preferred married, white, Christian (protestants held the number one spot) men who had served some time in a branch of the US Military. That was about 6 years ago - are we ready to change those views?

As many know, Hilary Clinton has decided to run for the Democratic party and also Barack Obama from Illinois. I think both are viable candidates and I believe they should run together. But then, we'll change years and years of history with just the coloring in of an arrow or the punching of a chit. Not only will it be the first female in office, but also the first African American.

All I have to say to this is that I think it might be time, if we stick with what was bargained for six years ago, we get George W. it's time for some Democratic change!

On-line Dating.

I would have to say that on-line dating isn't really helping with finding a boyfriend, but it is positioning me on what I don't want ...

Here's a small list.

I don't want to be with someone:

- Who has hick-characteristics. Congrats on liking Nascar and driving a truck, that just doesn't fit into my world.

- Do not proposition me for sex before even seeing me. Seriously? Seriously!

- Intellectual conversation can take you to point A, but real conversation will get you to B and then to C, which is the place where I take my shirt off.

- Don't be mad at me because I have talked to you for only 6 hours on the phone (at one crack!) - that's a lot of talking time! Especially when you don't participate that much.

- Ask about me, I like to talk but I need you to fill in akward pauses.

- Looks do count. I admit it. Funny guys can override looks, but not so much on-line.

- If you haven't met me, you can't stalk me. I don't want to talk to someone every hour of every day, especially during the work day!

Why phones were invented.

Let's be honest, I'm not quite the innocent girl. I've ventured into a couple of adventurous sexual experience - I was an soft porn photographer for godsake. But I never ventured into the phone area until two days ago.

With my recent cut-off from Madison, a girl can feel a little lonely at times and her own imagination can only take her so far. After text prompting, I made a phone call and engaged in some long distance attraction. Impeccably mind blowing I might add. I didn't have the balls enough to pull out electric devices, but sometimes the fingers can do the walking especially when the person on the other end tells them exactly where to walk.

Worst pick up line - ever.

Gentleman please note this post.

When you see a girl at a bar who engages in talk with you, do not use the line "I gotta tell you - I have a girlfriend, but ..." Here's your first mistake. You've referenced your girlfriend, but maybe you'll get lucky and a chick will still dig what you're about to say ... But then you add, "you're giving me such a chubby."

Honestly the first part isn't quite as bad as the second part. What are you, just into puberty? Because there are many other words that might actually make the first part the bad part.

Ah. Bowling.

So last night was a double team event, first I had one from 6-8:30, which meant not actually participating in bowling but still showing up after to join in the festivities of drinking and socializing.

The thing about our little league is that there aren't that many good bowlers, it's just an excuse for 60 some people in advertising to get drunk, smoke and hook up with other people in advertising for one night. I participated in all three categories last year, but didn't actually end up going home with one of the participants ever - just seeing him. He's a nice, tall red head that has a mean passive aggressive spark to him which is why it didn't work (see birthday post).

Last night I sauntered in to the bowling alley, dolled up in an ivory dress and my 5" leopard heels and did my rounds of socializing, making sure it was apparent that I was there but not saying anything quite yet to him. Finally after half an hour of waiting, I just came up to him. He turns to me and says, "I have been drooling for the last 1/2 hour since you walked in over you."

Little sayings like this make me question why I'm not dating him. I try to remind myself that he uses the phrases "like" and "dude" a little too much for me and that he has that PA streak, but still he has a lot to offer.

Of course, at the same time there's BG that will be there every week and the dating site has led to a cute interaction again. I had decided to be good and to not multi-date anymore, but with these options it's going to be hard to resist.

Just Do It.

After reviewing my social life with some of my random friends the same message kept coming across, "You're always chasing, never being chased." Which is completely true, I'm the type of person that sets my sights on something and gets it. The last couple of weeks, I've withdrawn a bit and decided I wouldn't chase anymore.

Until today. I thought the best thing to do to get over RS was to simply start seeing someone here in Milwaukee, because I'm not sure I want to date anyone in my industry (the people that I am social with every time I'm social) I signed up for a personal website that some friends have had great success with. I've been sitting back silently watching to see who would get a hold of me and needless to say, none have been quality. You can see who has looked at your profile though, and there is one guy that I kept praying would actually contact me. Well it hasn't happened, so I decided to screw the rule of sitting back and sent him a message. Why not just do it?

End of Story?

I was working away, filling out cards to tell clients that we were so proud of their accomplishment on making the 2007 Book of Lists when my computer made a weird dinging sound. I looked up as my iChat perched at me to either approve or deny a message from RS.

What could it hurt to see what he had to say? Approve. “In Madison or Milwaukee?” It asked me. He’s just not into you I thought, but still found my hands to the keyboard to type, “Madison, why?” I lied.

For the next hour we bantered a bit back and forth but I never said that I’d go up there. I gave him the opportunity to make the trip down to Milwaukee saying that I had a meeting at 3:00 and didn’t feel like driving up to Madison to turn around drive home and drive up the next day (I’m in Madison until Thursday, with trips to Milwaukee in between – or at least was supposed to be, but instead am just going up Thursday). To which he didn’t bite. It dawned on me that the gentleman thing to do would have been to ask me to come up, stay the night and drive the next day, but of course it wasn’t said. Reason? He’s into having sex with me, he’s just not that into me.

So I’m at home, about to draw a bath and prepare for a big event tomorrow, typing up my blog and smiling to myself that the addiction is broken. Hey – if you’re not into me, you’re not worth fucking me. End of story – period.

Just not into you.

So after shuffling through old items yesterday, I stopped over at the local Home Depot and picked up some wood, some pain and some nails, bound and determined to make a lovely set of shelves for my living room.

As I cozied up to paint I popped in STC as part of my normal weekend routine, season 6. I laid out paper and the wood and began to paint as Carrie began to dater Berger. As the first coat was drying and my hands, arms and face were covered in black and red paint, Miranda spoke about her date with another lawyer who hadn’t called in two days. She asked Berger what he thought he meant and he told her that he just wasn’t into her and explained that if a guy wants to come up, meeting or not, if he likes you – he will. I can’t believe I forgot about that bestseller book from years ago that was collecting dust … in some box. I continued to paint and smiled to myself, the easiest advice that makes life so simple and I forgot about it.

Well, tonight I put on another coat of paint and assembled my very own, homemade media center (it was supposed to be a shoe rack, but the holes weren’t big enough – eh, you win some you lose some) only to find that I scratched the paint off the wood in a couple of different spots. I began to search for a new paint brush (I was also lazy last night and didn’t clean them, thinking they were only a buck, I’d buy more) and as I rummaged through my craft box for a thin brush I found it – the book.

The pink and black item that, while grossly over priced – especially at the time I bought it, offered the easiest point of advice … if he doesn’t call, email, write; if he doesn’t linger or the relationship ends and he’s still having sex with you after no comment of re-commitment, it means, plain and simply, he’s just not that into you. Ding, ding.

Saturday night was now explained, RS was now explained, and even in later arguments of the ever allusive CB was explained, when it comes down to it – they weren’t that into me.

I try not to be a game player at all, but I realized I need to stop the chase – I’m always into them. The next guy will be the one to call, to ask me out, to do all the things that classy love affairs include – end of story.

Old Stuff.

On Sunday I went over to my dad’s to finish cleaning up the bits of my life that remained strewed about his basement. I had lived with out these things for four months, so in reality, I probably should have blind folded myself and thrown it all out – but instead I spent three hours going through plastic containers that reminded me of old things.

There were pictures of me and my best friend Rachel who moved home to Australia years back, we were so happy then. She was in a crappy marriage, I was 19 and 20 so we pretty much got drunk at either of our houses after work. We shopped, we ate, it was great. Then there was picture of Di and me from our wild crazy summer that made me smile and ache all at the same time. As I continued to dig the pictures got older – there was pictures of exes, both good and bad, pictures of old vacations. I could spend hours looking through the box full of the memories, but I stopped when I realized that it was all in the past. I kept a handful of them and threw the rest out.

Then there was the lock box that I kept, that didn’t actually lock and I had no clue where the key actually was. Inside the box were more random memories, so I tossed them. I decided that it was time to stop relying on my past and keep it where it should be, only in my head, to disrupt my daily routine.

I finally narrowed down my crates of belongings into 10 garbage bags and three containers. As I drove back to my flat, I decided that it was good that all the old stuff was going away and that today would be the start of a brand new me.

Friend to BOYfriend?

This weekend was quite … not sure the words for it.

In normal fashion, I met out a couple friends for lunch, drank a bit too much and passed out – but not before making a drunk dial to BG, who – also in normal fashion – didn’t pick up.

Later that night I met an old friend out for another cocktail. We sat and joked like normal, but then the liquor hit a bit too hard and he said what every girl has wanted a good-looking guy to say to her, “I can’t believe you’re single. You’re so beautiful, so kind, you’re so the girl that every guy wants to marry and have a family with. I don’t know how else to say this, but for the past two years I’ve been in love with you.”

I choked back my Bud Light a little bit and took a deep breath and wondered what the right answer was to the question. I could kick myself, he’d be a great boyfriend – but he’s an even better friend. Should I take the chance or should I just be content in what I have. I grabbed his hand, smiled and said, “Wow. Okay.”

He looked like a kicked puppy, apparently this was not the right answer. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t actually say that I wanted to go out with him and be with him. If I did, I would be lying and I would hurt our friendship. I tried to make it up, “No, I mean, I love you too.” Apparently this at least inched my foot away from his balls a bit as the pain seemed to subside.

We left the bar and hugged. I walked home in the crisp night, too many things reeling through my head at the given moment. I wanted clarity, but I couldn’t get it and now I didn’t know even how to get it.

In the past when things arose I just rang up Madison – I’d have sex, I’d drive home and think that what happened was exactly what I wanted. Now I couldn’t even seek the guidance of a good lay because I am done with being blown off.

I laid in bed for the next two hours, barely sleeping and waking again for the rest of the night. Finally in the morning I took a bath, my cat sat on the edge purring and I thought to myself that I would be completely content being with him and perhaps that would be exactly what I would need to get over RS.

Waiting until 10, I picked up the phone and called him. He drearily woke up, “Morning babe.” I smiled. “Hey, wanted to chat with you” I said. “Last night.” He choked. “Yeah, last night. What you said to me was great, and I’ve thought about it …”

“MG?” He stopped me, my heart sank because I knew where this was going, “Yeah babe.” He cleared his throat. “I had a bit too much to drink, I think we both know that we wouldn’t work.” Awkward silence.

“I don’t agree. We’ve been great friends and I think that …” I started.

“No. I don’t think that. I was just trying to sleep with you. This isn’t going to affect our friendship right?”

“Of course not, I mean – who do you think I am? You know me.” I uttered back, my heart was in my stomach. I didn’t even know how to fix this. “So how are you this morning?”

“Tired. I’m going back to bed – I’ll call you later.” And he never did.

I gotta get cable.

I think it’s really easy for us to judge other people on their behaviors and actions and criticize them for their mistakes; however, this is life.

That being said. Fuck George W. Bush. I try to make this blog about my life and not about politics or religion, but fuck him – and if you don’t agree let me reiterate that this blog is about me and my decisions, I’ve decided to not back him. On New Years I was at my dad’s and watched the names of Wisconsin soldiers who died the past year scroll across the screen. Two things hit me, the first being that these were just kids. The screen replayed over and over, 22 years old, 21 years old, 20 years old, 23 years old. These are young adults that went to war for our country, to be a hero, and they were taken away. The second thing that hit me was just thinking about how many of those people that didn’t die are so messed up. My sister’s ex-husband is psychotic, often threatening to kill himself or her when he returned from the war. Granted, part of this is just him but I’m sure the fact that he wielded a gun for 4 years and saw people, both supposed “enemies” and countrymen die, had a little something to do with it. Her current boyfriend, also a former Marine in Iraq is more stable but still wakes up to nightmares. He won’t discuss how many people he killed or how many people he saw die.

And then there’s a kid from my high school that is standing trial for a murder allegedly committed by him and 2 other fellow soldiers. He’s 21. He has a 2 year old daughter. He was one of those kids in school who never ruffled the water. When it became news that he, of all people, was coming back to the states to face the charges we were a small town in shock. At this point I look at George W. Bush and can’t help but blame him, this kid could have grown into a fine young man, had a fine family, had a life – but his service to his country cost him everything. Yes, it was a decision he made to join, but life could have been so different.

So send 21,500 more of our young men and women to war, but know one thing – the majority of American citizens don’t look at these veterans as heroes, they look at them as poor people that have lived their short lives fighting a war that they didn’t belong in. Or look at them as young bodies in cold wooden caskets, and go to bed every night knowing that your daughters are fine but you’ve ruined other people’s lives.

That being said. I need to get cable so I'm not faced with the decision of watching the presidential debate, One Tree Hill or the Antique Road Show.

Times are a Changing

I didn’t wear a winter jacket all last week. It was 50-60 degrees, the air wet and warm. A cozy sweater turtleneck and a pair of heels. Just how I like it. This morning I woke up at 8 and headed to my back porch for a crisp morning smoke. There was frost every where. I sighed as I went back inside. Times are a changing.

I balled myself up on my couch, looking at my dirty livingroom and bedroom floor and curled up to my favorite weekend past time, Sex in the City marathon. All through season 2 I contemplated life like it was 3 years ago, when I had my girl here and our lives patrolled around laying out by the pool, working and meeting boys at the bar. Those were the times, she lived in the same apartment places and was just a walk down the parking lot, we had so much fun.

Now she's in Iowa, married with a gorgeous daughter and contemplating single life again and I'm still in Wisconsin, working like a dog and contemplating how times have changed.

As I entered season 3, I snuck out to my back porch in my tshirt and yoga pants and invited the cat into the mid-morning outdoors. Now the frost had melted.

By near end of season 3, it was getting cold again as I bundled up in my robe and checked my phone, silent.

The night before I was drunk and texted messaged RS, stupidly. At first it was promising, then it demised right around the same time Carrie stopped seeing Big at the beginning of season 2. The last message from him explained he'd be spending the night at his parents, I responded with not even a word, "K" and went to bed. Here it was, now 8:00 and I had heard nothing. At this same point, Carrie's affair was finally admitted to Aidan and she was alone. It dawned on me, I didn't want to be alone.

I finished up the season and was wide awake at 11:00. I took a shower. I'm not sure if it was because the water was hot but a twing hit my head and I felt like I wanted to cry.

I can count the number of times I've cried in my life on two hands, what was happening to me? I arched my head back into the warm water and the pain subsided for the moment as I scrubbed up and cuddled back in my robe.

When I woke up this morning I looked at my apartment, my closet was pure perfection from organization and Good Will would be happy with my current donation. I put on that old pair of jeans I found at the bottom of a box and put on my heels to another day.

As I straightened my hair and applied lip gloss and mascara I realized that my new year's resolutions are all wrong. It's time to stop pretending and bending over for everyone else - because when you're always in that position you're going to, of course, get fucked in the ass. It was time to take charge of myself and start living to make me happy. Those plans don't include RS right now, they don't include spending more time with my family or dressing nicer, they include learning to say no. The hardest part for an addict. The conclusion is, I guess, that that's what I am.

As I walked out of my apartment into the cold air, I snuggled my scarf and slowly wondered if I should go back inside and get my jacket. Nah, I thought, it'll be warm by noon.

Ponder.

Obviously the majority of people don't think the RS situation is good, I called JF to see his opinion, and it turns out every one is sick of the story. So I called the one person who I knew I could vent to and who would give me the advice I need.

"Let me vent." I started and explained that the conversation with RS was a miscommunication and I drove to Madison to have sex. Then, in her true fashion she says to me the one thing that really kicks, "Hey, if you spend your life making others happy the one guarantee you have is what?" I blankly stood silent on the other end, not really sure of the response, I wanted to say "Other people happy?" but I knew that wasn't right, "You guarantee you'll be miserable." Hmmm.

Things to ponder. Why am I driving to Madison? Is it for him? No, it actually isn't. I go because I want to get off. I go because I like the time, I go because I, me, this person typing, wants to. I don't go because I'm afraid he'll never call, I go because I don't want to say no. So am I doing this one little thing to make myself happy? The sex part does, yes and it is for me. The heart wrenching, what is happening doesn't make me happy though. Catch 22.

A Woman and Her Numbers.

So a comment by JBS got me thinking, he wondered why I would drive so far for so little and I started thinking about it.

Primary response is, while temperamental he is, I do cum - multiple times with him and if he can't provide it through regular means, he'll get me there with other ways. But really, I could find that in Milwaukee. So why do I?

I guess a lot of it has to do with numbers. A friend and I were talking 2 years ago at a bar when I started to mess around with #1 again, "Why do girls mess with their exes? I don't understand the philosophy." My response, it's a matter of numbers baby. I will "reuse" people so that my number of partners doesn't go up. I'm not sure why really, but I know what I'm going to get and I don't ever have to blurt out a huge number. In honesty, my number is 6. It was really uncomfortable having filled a hand and switch to another one, granted I've been having sex for 12 years now and it's not really that big of a number for that amount of years, but it's still weird to think about.

I'm not saying that I don't know people whose numbers are way higher than that and that I think less of them, it's their comfort level and their prerogative - it's just not mine to have it be that large.

Out of the six, I still talk to two people that I've had sex with - #1 and RS. #1 is now in a relationship, which takes that relationship off the shelf, so it leaves me with a decision to up my number for the sake of sex or go with what I know - that's how I justify my trips to Madison.

But it's just not sex numbers that a woman guards. Someone women won't reveal their age, their weight, their size. I mean it's just a thing with us and numbers I guess!

5 days in, Resolutions blown.

I will be classier. I said. I will take time for me - to the gym over the lunch hour! I said. I will stop the affair. I said.

Five days in and I've gone to the gym twice over lunch, still packed in 28 hours in 3 days, and couldn't find the spine to say no to dinner with my mom because I'm exhausted (I'll get to that point in a second).

And because I'm exhausted, I went to work in jeans, tennis shoes, a sweater and a baseball cap. I didn't even shower. That's not classy at all.

And I'm exhausted because (if you couldn't tell from the last post) I went to Madison last night. As I drove I told myself it was the last time, so what if it was just one more? I can walk away after this. It's like his dick is meth or crack (which isn't funny I know, but damn that thing packs a punch). I tried, I really did, not to go - but he draws me in like a moth to a flame.

Sex, sex, sex. It's all I was thinking about. The kissing, the cold wall with my warm body against it, the groping and ripping off of clothes. I spent Wednesday night trying to calm my nerves myself, and after an hour and a half I just gave up. Then the texting started yesterday.

Everything was telling me not to do it - a friend called me about a class at 8:00, so I'm bantering over text while trying to rearrange our schedules. Then I agreed to go, his roommate was headed out for the night, and I get a call from my dad's girlfriend freaking out that she hadn't heard from him (he has shingles and got diagnosed with a bad infection) and she wanted me to see if he was okay (my brother and sister live next door, I live 1/2 an hour away - why me?) so I'm calling my brother trying to get him to go next door and see, all while blow drying my hair and putting on clothes after my angry-girl bath. At 9:40 I call my brother back, he hadn't even gone over yet! I insisted he go there now and paced the floor for another 10 minutes, then - giving up, I got in my car and started to drive to Madison. My sister called shortly after to say all was fine, I called his girlfriend back, to which she promptly told me that he had called after she got off the phone with me (an hour and a half earlier than the conversation we were having I might add). 1/2 way to Madison, the exits were closed due to a bus turnover, I got lost but still found my way back to the express way.

I arrived at 10:50, got naked, got off and he had an "IT" episode three times. I assured him it was nothing, he looked apologetic. I tried to leave and he grabbed me close. We talked like we normally did. Nothing was different, I was still confused.

So much for those resolutions - hey, there's always next week. And Darth, no talk back - I read your post on resolutions! :)

When IT happens

Here’s a post for all you guys on when “IT” happens – you know your hitting it hard and heavy and suddenly go limp, or she’s naked kissing up on you and you can’t get it hard. Now, this is alcohol besides, because women totally understand the “Whiskey Dick” as my fellow friends have entitled it – either it won’t come down or it won’t go up – this is for that straight in the moment times.

She will tell you, “it’s not a big deal” and “really it’s okay” as you make excuses from, “I have a lot on my mind” to “this never happens.” But how about whether it is a big deal or whether it really is okay?

I’ve had this conversation with a couple of my friends… the first time it happens ever to a girl they do ask their other female friends if it’s normal – to which the girls normally reply that it happens. But what is she thinking? I can tell you that I say those things, but really I’m doing it to ease your ego. Because, to me, it’s not okay and it is a big deal.

I like it when a guy cums, for 10 minutes or so he’s sensitive to touch, rendered useless except to lie there in your combined sweat and breathe. Sometimes they even become more truthful – ask them any question and they non-chalantly reply.

I usually blow it off the first time and try to get you going again. If it happens again, or continually, we do wonder if we’re not attractive enough, tight enough, shaved enough, good in bed enough, etc. but we don’t want to ask those things because it may be just other things going on and we don’t want to hurt your feelings.

The first time it happened to me with RS I was in shock, I told him it was okay and not to worry. He still did. The second time it happened, I told him that I was a little bugged since it had so recently happened before hand, he explained everything on his mind. Then there was the time it happened when we were screwing at my place which lacks doors and therefore the cat felt the need to walk between his legs and purr, performance anxiety. And then there was the last time when he toyed with me to go to Madison after he found out his roommate would be out for a couple hours. I came twice, but he kept losing his hard. At one point he explained that the bed squeaked too much, I told him to lie on the floor then. When he couldn’t get it up I told him it was really okay, I had cum so it was worth my drive, he explained that he doesn’t like to hear people have sex and he was paranoid his roommate would come home. I jokingly grabbed my clothes and said, “Because then you would have to explain what you were doing, or with who?” He looked down at the ground and said, “That’s not it at all. I just don’t want him to hear the bed or you moaning. It’s definitely not that I don’t want him to know.” Then he muttered something about religion and I left.

Hope that helps - but don't get paranoid, have a legitimate explanation.

Sex.

Why, oh why does the thought of sex take up so much time in my day? They say men think about it all the time and now I know how they feel. I'll catch a smell, I'll see a great butt walking down the street and it's all I think about.

So I've been listening to angry girl music. Angry girl music rocks.

The Fire House

Last night I joined a friend for a co-workers going away party at the new location of “The Firehouse” in Milwaukee off of 35th Street and Forest Home. After a couple of cocktails it dawned on me that the new me might not be good for business. In this industry (Advertising) people are surrounded with fake things - images, taglines, articles – that they don’t want their extra time being filled with more fake things. It’s hard enough to take the cat by the horns and believe things that come out of people’s mouths than to be filled with more fake people.

I was me, in a bit better garb, and it worked just fine. In front of me stood what we like to call “The Whales” – the big catches with lots of people and lots of money, and while I appeared professional the cocktails in my system didn’t make everything I said necessarily that way. And it worked.

Me in nicer clothes may be all the classy I need.

When do we stop being fake?

My New Years resolution – to be more classy. As it was pointed out, it’s not like I’m trashy or anything. Yes, I know and understand this. And as I get ready to go out tonight, I think to myself, “When do we stop being fake?”

This comes to my attention as I’m looking for the bra that makes me look like I have the perfect 36Cs and not the actual ones hanging from my chest. The one that gives me the perfect cleavage and sits correctly on my shoulders with out back fat or hang overs.

When I found the tan bra with the maroon accents and put on the underwear that sucks my belly in just a little bit and then put on the boots that make me look 3 inches taller than I actually am while not being slutty.

This fascinating question dawns on me while I’m applying the eye shadow that makes the tiny speckles of blue in my green eyes stand out and as I’m applying the mascara that lengthens my short lashes.

As I flat iron my wavy blonde hair, noticing my roots are already starting to show and people will now know that I wasn’t born with amazing blonde hair with light brown accents. As I line my lips, just above the line to make them bigger and right after I applied the plumping lip gloss.

As I do the dip and tuck to help out the bra and fasten the zipper on the boots I wonder if I look classy. What I realize is that classy is not fake. And while I do plan on toning it down this year (I did well, except for the wood comment at work …) I also remember I can’t forget who I am.

This comes as I ponder a relationship with an ex. I posted once “Exes are Ex’s for a reason” and preach it to Di as she deals with her divorce yet here I am, afraid to be alone in this world that I am considering it. Funny how an email finally reminded me he’s a bit on the passive aggressive side. “she was really cool & cute too. Oh well, such is life with my luck I guess,” he writes in discussing what happened at my birthday last week. A slight, undertone to what I did to him just 10 months ago.

JF and I talked after my birthday last Wednesday, “Don’t get into a relationship just because everyone else is. That’s not you. You’re great. Get into a relationship because that’s what’s good for you, that you really connected with someone.” He gets me, I don’t understand how because I try so hard to be someone I’m not at times. “Are you okay?” He asks me after I tell him RS just cut ties, “Yeah, I am. It was just sex.” I respond. “I know you think you need to be tough, but not with me MG, not with me.” “It sucks” I tell him.

And it does. It does because he knows how I feel, how I’ve felt for 4 years, that’s why I’m his go to. When things aren’t peachy keen in Madison, it’s a phone or a text and a “Hey, what are you wearing?” and I’m on the road and at his door. It sucks because I want him to be the nice girl that he appeared to be, that he appears to be. The poor 36 year old guy that loves his family and has had his heart broken too many times. The poor guy that just wants to hold someone. The truth is – he is that guy, just not with me. It sucks that I’m not good enough. That I’ve never been good enough for anyone. My first “real” boyfriend told me when I called off the engagement, “You’ll never find anyone to love you. You were lucky I pretended.” The last three guys haven’t even been straight, some part of me thinks I turned them, but the reality is I don’t believe in that – you’re born that way.
I’m a fixer. I put energy into fixing broken things, like lights and paneling and gas stoves. Like businesses that need more work, friends that need to be near someone to love them and take care of them, boyfriends and lovers that are eternally broken and need the right path. Then it disappears, the lights turn on with a flip of the switch, the paneling no longer squeaks when you walk on it, the gas oven turns on. The friends get on their feet and find boyfriends and girlfriends, the boyfriends and lovers finally get the self esteem and leave to do better.

That’s why I am alone, too many broken irons in the fire and every time I fix one – it seems to get sold.

But that’s who I am, that’s not fake. What’s fake is that I pretend it doesn’t hurt. So I’ve adjusted my breasts, buckled and zipped my boots, re-plumped my lips, grabbed my fake Fendi and I jump into the car of one of my friends that doesn’t need fixing – the one thing out of everything right now that isn’t fake.

So Starts the New Year

On January 1st I went to the grocery store and purchased a Mt. Dew on my way out. I always down one of the 20 oz bottles and it tells me every 6th one wins, though none ever do. I get in the car, take a breath, twist "BUY ONE GET ONE" - the new year is starting to look up!

It's 2007

2006 did not end so well. On the 30th, I texted RS. I figured that if I was going to behave in 2007, might as well misbehave up until that point - except I got shot down. Turns out ending the affair will be more on his part then mine. So I deleted him from every aspect of my electronic life.

I went by E & J's for the game (Pack vs Bears - Pack won) and left at 11:00, cozied up with the cat around 11:30 and fell asleep at 12:10, after an empty inbox told me that everyone was too busy to wish a poor girl at home alone a New Year (yes, that's a pity party for me).

On Monday, went by the family to celebrate my older brother's birthday and dorked around with my niece on my back as her horse, on my shoulders. I forgot what it was like to spend time with her. We ate chocolate cake and ice cream and freaked her out when my brother invited her to blow out the candles on his cake and they re-lit themselves (oh we are so funny).

Tuesday I worked a bit even though we had off of work, cleaned my kitchen and decided that I would repaint it myself since it's been 4 months since I took the place and I was still awaiting the landlord's to finish it.

And today is Wednesday, we'll see what the new year brings.

In the times of the New Year

Resolutions. Are you going with the “I’ll never make a resolution” or are you going with the “Happier relationships, lose weight, work harder, save more money?” I can’t resist.

Every year I feel like the plate is wiped clean, after all I’ve gone the last three years without anything holding me back. No lease, no boyfriend. I could get up and leave without a second glance. I see it as a chance as renewal, a chance of forgiveness, a chance of re-inventing.

That’s what the Phoenix is about. That’s why it’s on my back. Now with it’s revamping, I feel like I should revamp myself again. I’m not miserable in my current life, but as we all feel, we could always adjust certain things.

Maybe it’s not a resolution but a re-inventation but here’s the changes I’d like to see in myself during 2007.

Most importantly. I will be classier. The last few years I’ve been more Samantha than Charlotte (yes that’s an STC reference) and I’ve come to realize that Charlotte is not a bad person, apparently naïve but completely classy. I will swear less, I will wear dresses more, I will wear heels and I will be different. When I walk down the street they will say that I’m classy, not trashy. My chest will be covered, my calves will shine in expensive shoes. My hair will be long, my eyes will shine. My hair will be done, my make up on.

Secondly, I will take time for myself. I’m a workaholic, classic Capricorn. My job has always been my family, I’ve lived and breathed it. I couldn’t live without access to email on the weekends or constant cell phone interaction. I will turn it off one day a week so clients, family and friends can’t access me. I’ll sit in the tub and clean my house, I’ll go to the gym and watch cheesy movies. I might even go on a date.

Lastly, I will stop the affair. Men are ridiculous because I’m a phenomenal catch. I’ve been using my Madison trips as an excuse to convince myself I’m not ready for a relationship, when in fact I’m actually in one. I’ve tried to position myself as this renegade, open to a casual relationship when the truth is – even if it’s just sex, I deserve at least a Happy Birthday text message or IM. I’ve already made the first step and registered on Yahoo Personals. The men in my industry are notoriously womanizers and I don’t want to shop talk.

This made me cry.

Stolen from postsecret.blogspot.com

Sometimes we forget that the holidays isn't about us. This made my eyes welt and took my breath away for a second. It makes me want to know who sent it and just hug them :(

Birthday Recap

So the official recap - December 27 saw inking, drinking, hooking up and hanging over. Not all of them were me though.

Inking - yup. Got that addition that I've been wanting. 3 hours in the chair and only one really deep cut, my phoenix is now rising from the ashes. I can't wait to get naked and show the next person I'm with - it turned out great.



As for drinking, with all the people that showed up, I spent more time making rounds than drinking (which was fine since I got so trashed the night before ...). With only 4 beers and one birthday shot, I hugged and smiled all the guests. One of the guests was an ex that I was seeing earlier last year and toying with the idea of dating again. When he showed up I was very happy - except a friend of mine also expressed interest and I reluctantly agreed to help with the set up. So they were the hooking up.

When it came to being hung over - that was most of the participants! Nice thing about not drinking too much!!

Mid-Holiday

We're currently in the mid-Holiday week, what fun! Christmas and my birthday have passed, and now it's just time for New Years.

Though I despise my birthday, this year it was pretty great. On Tuesday night I went out with #1 for an early celebration and got tanked, puking on my brand new shoes. On Wednesday I woke up on his couch and went into work for a couple hours, then I went to get myself a nice birthday present...

When I was 21 I got the Phoenix tattooed because it signified the rising of a new me, at 26 I decided it was time to get it completed. The flames were supposed to reach out from my butt to my mid-backed, but for one of the first times in my life, I couldn't drop my pants for a stranger - so we worked with in context.

Then I had a great dinner with the family and met some friends out at the Highbury - not just a handful - in fact about 15 or so people were there, for me! All people I've met with in the last year, but great friends regardless. I'll post more later ...

What a week!

Joan was in town last week and headed out to the Pack game on Thursday. Taking a deep breath after a long week and having my house back to myself, I sunk into the warm bubble bath that I prepared for myself. The bubbles were all around, crackling as my ears were submerged in the hot water and I closed my eyes.

As normal, the cat paced the edge of the tub. He hates it when I'm in there. Not sure if it's the water or the fact that I don't see him, but he will not leave my side when I'm in the shower or the tub and pulls back the curtain to paw at my arm and ferouciously lick any speckles of water that are in my hair or on my face or arms. As in normal context, back and forth he went but this time he went too far.

He's a tom-cat, which is bigger than a normal cat, and I may be over feeding him a bit - so when he reached the far end, he had difficulties turning. "Oh baby!" I sat up to help him, at the same time he used my face as a launching pad to keep from getting wet. I sunk in the tub, thanking God that I closed my eyes so quickly. The water seeped into the cut, the stinging started above my eye and kicked over to my neck. "FUCK."

I got out of the tub, looked in the mirror and I was covered in seeping blood.

Prior to work I tried to hide the resinating scratch but to no success - looks like it will be a season of Scarface.

And this is why ...

My dad calls today, "Hey you know next Wednesday isn't for your birthday, right?"

Me: "Huh? But she said it was for my birthday (sister)"

Dad: "She changed her mind, it's baby J's Christmas since we're all going to be together."

Me: "Umm. Wow. Okay."

Dad: "I know it's an issue when we combine, but it's only convenient."

Me: "At least I'll have my cake."

Dad: "She actually ordered one that says "baby J's Christmas."

Me: "Oh."

So ask me again, why do I hate my birthday? Grrr.

And then there was the invite that arrived yesterday as I went to my hair dresser. Wedding, Feb. 9th, 4pm (hair dresser's wedding). At my appointment, "You know you HAVE to bring a guest."

Okay. So gotta find a guest I guess...

Happier note - I love this Christmas song and this is a great rendition!

The Dawn of a New Day

Okay, I went to check out Bally's yesterday and while it's not my choice of gyms, I think I'm going to get a membership anyway including the personal trainer. I called my dad who was out of ideas for me for Christmas and asked him to pony up the enrollment fee and he agreed, so I'm going to enjoy getting fat today and then tomorrow it's the strict gym regiment!

And then there was one.

Have you ever been in this situation? You are single, have a great group of single friends that all hook up with each other and just are in the STC life of being. Things are going great. In fact, one of your friends even has found “love.” That was two months ago and things are going great for her, she doesn’t spend much time with the group anymore but she’s in love and there’s plenty still in the circle.

Except, now two of the other sets have hooked up and stayed together. They aren’t much for hanging out with the old group, so the four of them have formed their little circle. Granted, they call once in awhile when there’s a spat, but they’re generally happy.

So now your great group of friends is down to just four, two girls and two guys. The first guy has been seeing someone on the side and now, due to the holidays, they’ve gotten a little cozy. You see him once in awhile.

And the girl, she went back with her ex-boyfriend because she can’t stand the thought of the holidays alone. Who will be under the mistletoe for her or that midnight kiss?

So the two are left, the happy-with-disenchantment-love-doesn’t-exist type of friendship. They joke about getting laid, in fact he’s taking a girl home tonight that he just met.

The next morning the girl gets a call from him, “I had such a good time with her last night.”

She jokes and sings a song “You love her, you want to kiss her. You’re going to marry her.”

“Nah” he says, “but the things she can do with her tongue. Think I might see her again.”

And the next week, she leaves for Christmas parties and he goes on a date with her. A real date – he even pays. The next morning she calls and he doesn’t answer. She goes out.

He finally calls her, “Can I talk about something with you?”

“Sure.”

“So I was with the girl last night and we really had a good time. We talked and then we had sex. We were cuddling afterwards and she asked me where this was going.”

“Balls – after a week? Christ, you took her home the first night.”

“Yeah and I told her I liked hanging out with her and wanted to do it more. And then she said there were two things she wouldn’t stand for (1) me being with anyone else and (2) me dealing drugs.”

“And”

“And I said okay. So what does that mean?”

“It means you have a girlfriend.”

“I have a girlfriend? A real girlfriend?” All gitty like a two year old.

“Yup.”

And then she goes her own way and goes to her regular booty call as he calls her to say he’s seeing her again tonight. She has a great time on her own. 4 hours of sex. Every time she tried to leave, he asked her to stay. And when she finally put her shoes on he pinned her against the door and she looked at him,

“Seriously, you’re okay with this.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re having fun?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’ll tell me when it isn’t any more.”

“Yeah. And you’re having fun?”

“Yeah.”

“And the same goes for you?”

“Yeah. Okay.” Kiss. “I’ll see you in two weeks.”

With barely enough sleep she wakes up in the morning and goes about her business, contemplating what that little end conversation meant. And then she texts him to help her clarify.

He responds, “Still with her.”

And he calls, finally, six hours later to recount how he is falling in love.

And then there was one. One single person. One person who has spent the last 4 years by herself for every Christmas, every birthday and every New Years.

Don't cry because it is over, smile because it happened.

I don't hate this season 100% because of Christmas or my birthday, I hate that it slows and we have to perceive our lives in the last year and are tempted to make judgements on it.

A couple phrases I've found very insightful the past few days:

Live your life with no regrets, because you'll never wonder what if.

I've loved 1/2 my life, hated the other 1/2, and in the meantime I forgot to live it.


The first phrase is how I've lived my life in the last few years. I spent too much of my youth being cautious and doing things for other people that I decided to live my life with no regrets. While painful leasons have been learned in the process, I don't regret much that has happened to me. For instance, when I saw RS was online I toyed with should I text or not. I called a friend who told me, "You've got two possible outcomes - he'll answer back or he won't. Would you regret not knowing either way?" So I went to my back up phone, found his number and sent him a text - "So looking to schedule a welcome home interaction?"

As I waited for a response, I was reminded of a phrase I heard ions ago (I can't even remember the source - but the person was dying at the time) - the second phrase. I contemplated, with my legs hanging off my balcony, if in all the hub-bub of working, socializing and going on with daily activities if I forgot the main purpose of why I'm here - to live. I for the most part am not a hateful person, but when I was younger I spent a good amount of time hating people that my boyfriend informed me weren't good people - including my father. I was wrong. In recent years I've become more laxed and found that hating people is not in my nature and I wasted over 1/2 of what my life will be doing it. So I've decided to love everyone and not regret them or the relationships I've been in. But I don't think I've actually really loved anyone and I don't think I've actually lived my life.

So what's a girl to do? I pondered as my phone vibrated from a text and beeped back - "What did you have in mind?"

I smiled. So JF and #1 were right to a point, I was willing to make a stop this weekend when I was out and about in Madison for a friend's party, but not that night. Instead he came to me. And I came twice.

Getting ready for the new year

Tis the season to start thinking about what went right, what went wrong and what changes can be made in the new year. Last year my main goal was no more destructive relationships. For the most part, that was fulfilled. I needed to remind myself occassionally of my worth and, except for the most recent snafu with RS, I'm ending the year having never had a relationship that was destructive.

In looking back I changed a lot this year. I accepted a new position, found happiness in a job, found a new place, moved out on my own. I found pieces of myself that I had thought were lost but I also lost more pieces of myself.

While so many changes happened, I forgot to believe in myself. That's the main goal for this coming year.

Tis the Season

While I love the holidays and I do enjoy Christmas because I love to make people's days - I also hate this time of year in the straight out Bah humbug kind of way.

First of all, it's a pity party for myself. This is my 3rd, technically 4th Christmas season alone. 4 years ago I was falling out with Guitar guy and didn't even spend time with him during the season, though we "technically" were together still. I'll never forget having to travel to Neenah under the pretense that we were still together. Shoot me. And while I've had an ankling pool of boys, none of them were ever around for this time of year which of course means that I got no kisses in the snow or gifts (even in the 4th year segment) to show appreciation. And then there's my birthday.

I'm December 27, two freaking days after Christmas. One of the busiest traveling days as well. Which means people are either just getting done with the holidays or traveling back after them. This, ironically, means that I plan my own get togethers and while the whole bayou says "no problem! we'll meet you out!" it also means on that day I usually sit on a bar stool by myself only to be bombarded with phone calls on the 29th insisting that they feel like horrible friends and they forgot. The past couple years I've traveled over the date and just go MIA. That way I blame poor cell reception on the lack of phone calls and no one has any pressure to see me because I'm out of town. This year, however, my birthday lands during the week and I can't escape due to other people's holiday schedules. I've given up any hope of a get together and will be dining with my sister and her two-year old.

Digressing back to the alone thing, to top it all off it seems like it's over between me and RS. Rightfully so, it's that time of year and I knew he was getting feelings as well. Turns out I was his hooker without having to pay. I say this because a Fuck Buddy at least gets some communication, whereas once you're done with a hooker you have no need to call or talk to them again. After unreturned phone calls and texts, I've opted out of this game. As JF and #1 point out, as soon as I get that text I'll be driving to Madison to spread my legs, but in the same sense I'm over it.

And then there's work. I love my job as you may know, but we're going through big changes right now and I'm not sure I want to hold on. The bad things about sales are also usually the best, meaning that the more you sell the more you make. I've tripled their sales on a monthly basis and now have adjusted my lifestyle to fit that of what I'm used too, but now I keep hearing "I know this is tying your hands ..." and am basically stuck with not having an opportunity to make my sales and therefore commissions. Not to mention the coordinator at work likes to use me as a scapegoat for things and seems to be trying to pound nails into my coffin. On numerous occassions I've asked him if he's trying to get me fired and the response is always a chuckle. I'm too old to play these games.

I'm too old maybe should be the theme of this bah-humbug post. I'm too old to be a hooker, to be in kid like games at work and to old to count on people to try to make me happy.

So raise your glasses and cheers to the holiday season, and if you're in Milwaukee on the 27th say Happy Birthday to the blonde at the bar with the Bud Light at the Highbury.

Start a new, play it out?

Bz posted on her site about the worst kind of confusion being about yourself. I'm not sure you ever stop questioning yourself.

In my last week off since any encounter of the driving kind, I've of course had time to think about what should happen. "If he texts me, then he cares." i tell myself, as my phone lays silent. Now I'm starting to wonder if it might be best to let sleeping dogs lie and not have any of my encounters anymore. This is the problem when you have too much time.

JF and I were out to drinks and he commented that one of the girls he was seeing had just gone on a 2 week vacation and that "the momentum is just gone" after that period of time, I'm wondering if RS is feeling the same way and I'm pretty sure I am too.

Before he left we had intimate time, just not in his bed but in eachother's presence - that was a stepping stone but perhaps a stone that is now covered - in 14 inches of snow to be exact.

Truth in Lyrics for December

Eerily like RS:

And I don't wanna see you anymore
I'm just not that strong
I love it when you're here
But I'm better when you're gone
I'm certain that I've given
And oh how you can take
There's no use in you lookin'
There's nothin' left for you to break
Baby, please release me
Let my heart rest in pieces, in pieces

Someone let you down again
So you turn to me,
Your convenient friend
Oh, but I know what you're doin'
And what you hope to find
I've seen it a thousand times
All the fire we had before
Are now just bitter ashes
Left scattered on the floor

That Girl.

Last night JF, BG, N and I went out for a beverage of adult content. I knew that CB was going to be brought up. We haven't spoken since my ill-fated email that explained I didn't want to be a secret.

BG left and I turned to N, "JF knows everything - so you can say whatever you want." "What happened? He's heart broken."

JF had my back, explaining that he was a huge backer of CB for the entire time and that my actions were warranted. But she still pailed home that I was "That Girl."

"That Girl" is the girl in conversations when you're talking to a friend and say, "Oh, that girl." She's done something to warrant her being an object and not a real person. "That Girl" can be used in different contexts, for instance...

Scenario 1:
"I had crazy sex last night" - "with who?" - "that girl." Usually with some kind of head shaking and crazy eye expression that makes you feel like you should give a high five. I'm "That Girl" in the RS situation.

Scenario 2:
"She broke up with me over email." - "THAT GIRL did?" - In the sense of, "who does she think she is?"

Scenario 3:
Or in the past sense, "So I saw her last night." - "Who?" - "That Girl." as in, "she broke my heart."

So I'm that girl in all situations. It's not the first situation that I'm ashamed of, it's the last two. I feel like crap. I mean I've been dating for 12 years now and I haven't broken any hearts and only one person might talk ill of me, and he sued me so he has no right to. I knew once the "V" word was said that I was walking on glass and had to take things in the right way or end up launching a piece about 5 inches right into his heart - which I guess I did.

While talking to N I mentioned my affair with RS and how I actually feel happy, but I must admit that the situation with CB has taken me aback a bit. I feel like I don't deserve to want to be happy.

I guess "Shit, I was almost happy" applies again.

Son of a B*tch!

I pay $650 a month for rent - water & trash are the only things included and I live in an old place, this means that heat leaks like no tomorrow so my gas and electric tip the scales close to $130 a month. Justification purposes, my rent was supposed to include a parking space (off street) and a washer and dryer.

Well, with our little blizzard the landlord's brought out both trucks and now I can't park! Also, both washing machines are in use all the time and I know one of them is on my electric. The hall light is also on my electric and is turned on all the time without me. I'm getting to the short end of my leash here.

I've composed this letter (note, my landlord's live downstairs so I don't want to be mean):

First let me say that I really enjoy living here – you guys are great, I love being able to walk Cocoa, I love the location and I love the place.

I was really hoping to have a housewarming party this weekend; however, I know the remodeling is not done yet. My birthday is coming up in a couple of weeks and I would love to have people over for it, I was curious to if you thought it was possible to finish the place within the month? If not, please let me know so I can make alternative plans – either way is not a big deal.

Also, as we’ve discussed, the truck does take up a large amount of parking space and I can barely get my car in when it doesn’t snow. I was able to maneuver my car after shoveling out the space on Saturday but I’m really not able to get in at all with the truck on the outside of the garage at all. I’ve been parking on the street but am risking getting tickets every night with the snow. Part of the allure was having an off-street parking place in the rental amount, is there any possibility of having the spot available? If it might not be all the time I’d like to get a night parking permit for situations like this that arrive and take the amount off of my rent.

I don’t mean to be a pest, but I feel that I am paying a decent amount of rent for the area and I’d just like to be compensated for what I’m paying for.

I know there’s a lot going on right now and I am more than happy to utilize my dad’s workmen to finish the kitchen and pay them for their time if I can take that money out of my rent for January.

Please let me know your thoughts!

Almost Happy Again

I was doing my normal Monday scrolling, checking on all my favorite bloggers to see what was going on and I made my normal 11:00 stop at postsecret and saw this postcard above (link to it on the side). It was funny how it hit me.

"Shit, I was almost happy again." How many times do we sabatoge what's going on in our lives because we fear that we might be happy again? I do it constantly.

I was reading Darth's blog and in one post he discusses his Uncle & a woman he is dealing with - both situations are drastic, and all I could think is that they'd prefer the sympathy of others than to fix their ideal situations and then I wondered if that was me.

BG and I were at the bar the other night, grabbing a beer and celebrating the fact of his band being mentioned on-air. A couple got tossed back when he informed me that he knows we'll never be together because he's not my type - but it doesn't mean that he doesn't want to be. He told me he's accepted his position of being my friend and will forever be my protector. It made my heart drop - how many girls would envy the position of a good looking guy saying that to them? I asked myself if I was potentially giving up happiness for something that could never be.

Of course, you know that means that I went to Madison the next day seeking solidarity and clarification. I actually didn't do it intentionally, I was walking my landlord's dog and when we arrived home I got a text message, "Should I be expecting company tonight?"

I was confused and not technically in the mood so I wrote back, "From me?" and dipped my toes into the warm bubble bath to heat up my cold skin from the walk. A little banter and 20 minutes later I drug my bubble soaked butt out of the tub and plugged in the curling iron. He'd be gone for a week, I could justify my second romp of the week, plus I left upset last time because I couldn't service him properly.

The night went on as normal. I couldn't get his doorbell to ring, he opened the door and I entered. He tried to kiss me, I told him to sit on the couch. I performed a little strip tease and we got down to business. He came, I didn't. He was out of commish, but held me close. It was 10:00 when I told him I wanted to leave before the blizzard, it was 2:00 when I actually did. This time seemed different, we chatted about his favorite band coming into town on tour, we talked about his week of vacation in Michigan. I asked who he was going with, and then he answered, "the guys."

With out thinking I asked, "the guys?" and then it dawned on me - The Guys. The guys from the band, including my ex. Without hesitation he confirmed and we chatted briefly about each individual person and their status - including a brief synopsis of the ex (with out my prompting). I felt that the conversation was about "the guys" and not the usual conversation dealing with "my ex." I wondered as I laid on his chest if he finally made a disassociation and if he was getting to a point where he could see me as a genuine person in his life. "You don't have to go if you don't want" he said as I put on my boots, "Do you want me to stay?" "No" he said as he hugged me and kissed me. I saw him waiting by his window as I pulled away.

I called #1 the next day, and told him I wasn't sure what to do anymore. I've crossed the line, I've screwed up. I was the girl that wanted sex with out strings, and I didn't stop when my emotions started getting in the way. #1 told me that I knew what I had to do, but asked me if it was what I wanted to do. I told him no, but I couldn't go through what he put me through years back. #1 asked me if I was stopping myself from being happy or if I've justified him as the reason to be happy. I told him that I can't help but think that he's the right guy. #1 reminded me that past mistakes aren't usually forgiving in the future and told me "You know what you want to do and you know what you have to do. Now you have to decide."

And with that being said I think to myself, "Shit, I was almost happy again."