Dear Boys, I Want To Lick Your

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And The Douchie Goes To...Neither? Both of Us? (Part 3 of 3)

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Vote or Die! (SS)Diddy Said So

Polls are pretty self-explanatory, no?  I mean I'm assuming you're all of voting age.  Well actually can I assume that?  I hope I can.  No 13 year old boys hanging on my every word?  Good.  So with that as a given.  Cast your ballot.  Barack was right (yes, we're first name basis me and him).  Yes we can.  So go ahead.  Because this is your moment.  To shape history.  This poll is loaded.  Just Sayin'.  And you never know what might happen.

What Keeps You Reading Something She Dated

• The hilarity
• The (few and far between) sexcapades (more please!)
• The wisdom
• I just like SSDated as a person
• You're a "something" just keeping tabs
• Other (please explain in comments)

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And The Douchie Goes To...Me (Part 2 of 3)

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And The Douchie Goes To...Him (Part 1 of 3)

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Dear Boys, The Busy-Tired Scale

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T.I.T.S: Top Investigative Tracking Sisters

Dear Hottie McGymerson,

Hi. It's me. *Drool* *Swoon* *Falls off treadmill*

XOXO
Tearsy Sweaterson

It's his ass.  I mean.  His buns.  Like.  They're so.  Nice.  And I'm not even really into bums.  But as he runs on the treadmill directly in front of me.  Every day.  I can't help but take a look.  Sneak a peak.  Lurk.  Hawk eyes.  Leer.  Whatever.  But wait.  It's also his back.  And he's so tall.  And it's also his arms.  And the way he looks back over his shoulder all the time.  At me?  More likely the clock.  Or waiting for a friend to arrive.  But I'll pretend he's checking for me.

So that's what happens.  For six weeks.  The last six weeks really.  As I've been working my ass off at the Steve Nash Sports Club (Morgan Crossing).  I stare at him.  Casually.  Non-chalantly.  And sometimes I even think he stares back.  But then again.  It might be the clock.  And one time.  He was talking to (presumably) a friend at the gym.  And the friend looked and kind of pointed at me.  Did that just really happen?  And at the time I was mortified.  The conversation in my head went like this.

Friend:  Dude...did you see that chubby chick.  Kind of looks like she's going to have a heart attack.
Hottie McGymerson:  Yeah.  She's here everyday.  Sure is sweaty.  Don't point...she'll see...oh...

Detour.  The funny thing is this moment stuck with me for days.  Like seriously hindering my gym experience.  Until one day I went for coffee with a friend.  And as we're walking through the parking lot she says check out that hot guy and being the stealthy chick that I am.  I turn my head and look right at him.  This is obviously the moment he looks up and catches us.  We turn away in mortified laughter.  And no lie.  I'm guessing dude probably thought we were making fun of him.  When in fact.  We were basking in the heat of his hotness and only laughing out of embarassment. 

Back on Track.  So yeah.  Time flies by.  And I'm at the gym.  Literally just shy of every day of my six week pass.  He's always there too.  Every night.  We're like clockwork.  But do I talk to him?  Fuck no.  Now don't get me wrong.  I think I'm pretty.  Cute.  I can be hot.  But not at the gym.  At the gym.  I'm a sweaty bitch working my ass off trying not to cry or vomit.  So I'm saying.  I'm not about to start flirting up a storm.  Not to mention I SUCK at flirting.  And then add to that the fact that it's not like when you're at a bar and you can smile naturally.  Because it just looks normal.  Or like you're in a conversation. 

But at the gym.  On the treadmill.  Trying not to slip on my drool.  Trying to catch my ipod as I snag my arm on my headphone cord.  At incline 9.  Wiping sweat.  Trying not to cramp.  Drink water.  Drink water.  Go Go Go.  If I flash a smile when he walks by.  I'm going to look like a serial killer having just spotted fresh meat.  Seriously.  So the weeks end.  The gym pass ends.  My chance to talk to him ends.  Well.  Sort of. 

See the thing is.  Part of what made me recognize him.  Lust after him.  Be attracted to him.  Over the other guys who are also there everyday.  Was his workout attire.  Warm up gear.  Like an athlete would wear.  Like an athlete who plays for a university would wear.  Often doing the double shirt.  And we all know how I love the double shirt :P  So on the second to last day.  When I managed to un-shy myself long enough to read his shirt.  I got my first clue.  That began the detective work for which I'm famous.  Just call me motherfuckin' KGB baby...I got this.  Or as my friend recently referred to us. 

T.I.T.S.  Top Investigative Tracking Sisters.

So I like I said.  I read his shirt.  And it lists a university.  Obviously he plays varsity.  So I check the media rosters (with pictures duh!).  Football?  no.  Basketball?  no.  Rugby?  bingo.  And if there was any doubt.  The "hometown" of our hottie clears it up.  Whiterock, BC.  And where's our gym?  Whiterock baby.  So I facebook the name.  And there, my friends.  Is Hottie McGymerson.  And for reference.  His wall is not private.  Just Sayin'.  I mean people seriously.  Control your shit.  Privatize your business.  For real. 

So normally.  This is where it would have ended.  Aside from on this blog and with my friends.  I rarely like to reveal my stealthy KGB skills.  And contacting him would definitely reveal them.  However.  What good is having a blog for if I can't use it as an excuse to do ridiculous things?  I mean seriously...what could happen?  (worse case scenario) I get a good story or (best case scenario) a hot date?  So I decide.  Fuck it.  Maybe it's not balls to the wall like talking to him in real life would have been.  But it's at the very least balls to the sofa.  no?

So I facebook him.


Subject:  The Girl From The Gym

Hey :)

So this is either going to be:

A. The creepiest message you've ever gotten (not my favorite choice obviously)
Or
B. An awesome message to tell your friends about the ingenious rad chick, who was too shy to talk to you at the gym but found a way to message you (though sadly you were not interested in responding)
Or
C. (I'm voting for this one btw) An awesome message from an ingenious rad chick, who was too shy to talk to you at the gym but found a way to message you...and now that you see her (not looking like she's ready to cry/covered in sweat) you're thinking...nice :)


So yeah...I could pretend like I just stumbled across your profile but then that WOULD actually be a bit psycho...instead here’s the tale of my detective skills (which hopefully seems cute and smart and not...er...um...creepy).


Day before my last day at the gym...I managed to un-shy myself long enough to read your shirt...with said what I assumed was likely your uni...figured you seem pretty buff so it seemed likely you were an athlete...found your pic and name in rugby...and then facebooked you...


So yeah I can’t really pretend like I know you have an awesome personality or something (because I don’t know)...but you’re really cute and I could never quite bring myself to talk to you at the gym...so this is me...talking...plus I figured the worst case scenario of me messaging is you don’t message back and at least you’ll have a hilarious story to tell your friends (and I do love me a hilarious story :P)


SS “the sweaty chick who looks so much better when not at the gym” Dated


And maybe he responds positively.  Maybe he responds negatively.  Maybe he never responds at all.  But the hilarity of it will never be lost on me.  And I hope it won't be lost on you either.  And next time you're afraid to do something ballsy.  Think of me.  Think of this blog.  And just do it.  Because worst case scenario.  It'll give you a hilarious story.  And who doesn't love a hilarious story?

She Says I'm Stubborn Like It's a Bad Thing

"You're stubborn. You've actually been really stubborn with all the boys this summer"

My friend.  Says this.  A week after I wrangle a reason out of Trucker Joe for the continued attention but discontinued physical contact also known as date #7 .  We're having coffee and I'm trying to wrap my head around this whole being friends with Trucker Joe thing.  Because the thing of the thing is.  When I left his place.  He had me fully convinved that he thought I was the awesomest of all awesome chicks but that he just didn't love me and was still all messed up from his divorce.  But here I was a week later.  After 7 weeks in a row where he had made the effort/date all but one time.  With excited utterings of friendship fresh on my ears.  And no contact.  Okay well almost none.

On our last date I told him I had gone to Lady Gaga the night before.  He didn't know who she was.  I know.  I know.  That should have been a dealbreaker right there.  But I digress.  So I posted a video.  A little...Poker Face.  On his page.  And he responded by thanking me.  And saying something like he actually didn't even mind it that much lol.  But aside from that nothing.  And here I am thinking.  Hmm.  Was what he said all bullshit?  Because even since getting home that night it hadn't sat quite right.  I mean.  I get not wanting to be in a relationship because your divorce fucked you up.  But not wanting to say...bang away the pain...I'd never even really heard of a guy being like that.  But maybe.  I mean I'm sure.  I guess it's possible.  And the split did seem awfully traumatic.  But still.  I mean really?  So I tried to ignore those thoughts.  Because they always say you should take a person at their word. 

And here it was a week later.  With no real contact.  No asking how are you?  No making plans to hang out.  As friends obviously.  But for a guy to spend 7 weeks hanging out with me because he thought I was just that awesome it would seem weird to suddenly cease the contact.  Because.  I mean.  I'd understand hanging out that long if you're getting laid.  But to spend that much time with someone you just want to be buddies with?  That's just bizarre.  I probably should take him at his word that he thinks I'm that awesome.  Yes no?  And that's when my friend piped in.  About how stubborn I am.  About how stubborn I've been all summer with the "somethings".

So I decide.  If we're doing the buddy thing afterall.  I'll just contact him.  Because that's what buddies do.  They don't sit around allowing the other buddy to make the first contact.  They're friends.  They just dial it up.  So that's what I did.  Well sort of.  I mean.  No dialing.  Just facebooking.


SSD August 31 at 1:14pm
Hey kiddo :)
What's new? How was your week?
SSD 


Trucker Joe August 31 at 1:33pm
good SSD.... how r u???? i'm sorry bout things, i didn't mean to b cruel and i didn't think u were that into me,i didnt want to lead u on in anyway i just really liked hanging with u.... altho i like reading the blog, (u can be F.N. hilarious) i feel like a bit of a heel after reading it:(

what u been up to?


SSD August 31 at 1:53pm
Aww I wish we were having this conversation in person...because I don't really know how to ease your burden without just saying the truth (which then makes me sound like a total jackass lol)...but basically don't sweat it...and you were right...I wasn't that into you...okay that came out wrong...it wasn't like I wasn't into you...but it's not like I was into you either...I mean we barely know each other still...

Things to remember about me:


1. I'm not like other chicks (who are quick to think there's a connection, fall in like, in love, etc. get super intense and all those other shenannigans)


2. Writing...is writing. Sometimes it gets dressed up. Sometimes it gets dressed down. It's still the truth. Just better.

But seriously...don't sweat it...bear in mind how I talk about "the hot guy from my gym" or the comments on that picture my friend just tagged of me on here of this swoony security gaurd...these are boys I've never EVEN talked to and my reaction to them...ya know...sometimes talk is just talk :) because it's fun...and this is my summer of fun ya know?

So is this why there's been a lack of harassment on your part to hang out with me?...


Trucker Joe August 31 at 2:28pm
lol.... no i'm on nights for a while sooo my sched has changed a bit..... when i'm back too days i'd like to buy u a coffee or something....


the blog is awesome, i like to read it, u r soo talented and as u say it some of that shit is funny:)



SSD August 31 at 5:26pm
Sounds good....and thanks my blog aims to please :P

So I do have to ask though...before we get too deep into the friendzone and it becomes weird to talk about...but I can't not ask...A...because I'm a curious person...B. because my readers will ask and I'll need something to explain it :P

What was with the kissing? like...if you're not attracted to me...why was there any kissing? Was it just a case of...well...I'll just give it a try and hope an attraction to her grows? Did my one time mention of it via text make you feel super pressured or something? Did you just do it as some sort of misguided attempt to placate me so that I wouldn't stop hanging out with you? Another reason I haven't thought of? And honestly I'm asking in the most non-critical but super curious...I have to know the answer to things kind of way :)

Anyways hope the night shifts aren't too brutual for ya :)



Radio Silence.  Dead Air.  The end of days kind of quiet.  Even the crickets stopped moving.

Biggest Loser Update: Week 19 aka The End of Summer

Weeks Since the Summer of Boys Began: 19

Total "Somethings" Dated During the Summer of Boys: 5

Total "Somethings" Dated: 7

Total "Pounds" Shed During the Summer of Boys: 40

Total Best Summers Ever:  1


Wow.  It's so hard to even know where to start.  I mean there I was.  4 months ago.  Thinking.  I'm really going to do this.  I'm going to have myself some breezy fun with The Boys of Summer.  And then I'm going to write about it.  And share my fears.  My torments.  My dry spells.  My lusty kisses.  My total slutdamonium.  My weightloss.  My struggles.  My triumphs.  My lessons learned.  My humor.  Perhaps even a tear or two.  With the interweb.  With strangers.  Blogger buddies.  And real life friends alike.  (Didn't know I'd be sharing it with "somethings" too.)  I mean.  That's what one could dream about.  Because honestly.  I never really dreamed it would get more than a few hits.  And I expected those to come from TheHell.  And Rain.  And the 3 or 4 other friends I could maybe bribe (with promises of buying them beers and candy at a later date) to read.  I mean.  Would my dating life even be that interesting?  Would people really want to read about it? 

And here I am.  4 months later.  A better person for it all.  Because I lived it.  It happened.  I was open to it.  And even when I was closed to it.  I was still there.  Still experiencing it.  And honestly.  Regardless of the all the idiocy and retardation.  I can honestly say.  I had the summer of my life.  And certainly it wasn't just the dating.  It was a combination.  The Dating.  The Blog.  Blogger Buddies.  Real life friendships.  Softball.  An amazing new team.  Amazing new friends.  Weightloss.  The Gym.  The Boys.  The Ups and Downs.  The freakin' hilarity of it all.  A wedding weekend of wildcards and wonderful women.  A softball reunion and old friends.  Saturdays out for food tastings and talk.  Coffee chats.  New friends.  Renewed friendships.  Quality time.  Bonding.  Video games and doritos.  Stizzlicious.  And love.  Perhaps not romantic love.  But family.  Friends.  Dreams.  Happiness.  Love was everywhere this summer.  Love doesn't care about douchebags and retarded boys.  I am cotton-candy-swaddled in love.  And this summer.  Really was the best ever.  Except for next year.  And every one that follows.  I can only hope.  Yours was as good.

But alas.  With the end of summer.  Comes school.  And with school.  Comes new priorities.  It's no longer just about fun and flambouyancy.  It's time to buckle down and be about it.  And what does that mean for you, my cherished readers.  Well.  For right now.  Not a WHOLE lot.  Because I've been preparing.  And I've got you covered.  Post-wise.  For quite the little while.  And I'll still be here.  To read your comments.  And correct typos in my posts.  And for me.  It meant.  Removing my PlentyofFish.com profile.  But you never know.  When a story about a "something" might come along.  And under the profession you may very well see.  Student.  Professor.  Coffee Shop Barista.  Librarian.  Or Fitness Trainer.  (in case it wasn't obvious these are the only people I will be coming in contact with for the next couple of months).

Facebooking My Ass Off: or the End of an Era

It started with Trucker Joe.  He wanted to see the blog.  We were going to be buddies.  But then it sort of.  Just didn't stop.  You could say it was kind of like a snowball.  A carefully thought out snowball.  Wait.  What?  Is this another analogy I'm not getting quite right?  So not like a snowball at all really.  More like a dam.  A dam bursting.  Yeah that's a better.  So anyway my facebook burst didn't end with Trucker Joe.  Because a few days after adding him.  I took a bit of a leap.  And added.  Intelligence Officer.

And I kind of figured it was no big deal.  I mean.  I wasn't even risking anything.  Because we're not dating.  In fact we've barely had more than a text exchange since our barracks bumpin'.  So what was there to lose?  And again.  I write this blog.  So I know what I've said about him.  And frankly.  It speaks more like a raving resume than anything else.  A tally of his talents.  A chart of his characteristics.  An abacus of his abilities.  And all are positive.  And I know what you're thinking.  If you haven't had much contact with him since your rendezvous and it's unlikely for there to be any in the near future, why do you even want him on your facebook?  And oddly enough.  It's not for stalking.  Because the thing of the thing is.  I actually think he's pretty fuckin' funny.  We have a similar sense of humor.  He's a little more angry and bitter about life.  But regardless.  We're dry.  We're sarcastic.  We're witty.  And I like the things he says.  So that's mostly why.  The other.  I'm hoping he'll drool over my new 40lbs lighter pics?  Maybe.  I'm hoping he'll see how hilarious I am?  Likely.  Mostly it's just the laughter.  Maybe he says something and I comment.  Maybe I say something funny and he comments.  Maybe one of us has a winfall and comes into a place.  Like to stay.  And by stay.  I mean bang like bunnies.  And assuming the other party is interested.  Then it's all gravy.  Yeah you heard me.  I said all gravy.  Don't judge.

So you probably think this post is going to end there.  Like I somehow plugged up that dam real good.  Like a beaver.  I am Canadian afterall.  But nope.  That's not how this tale goes.  So as I hit the last couple of days of my time on POF I received a message from a boy.  The message was uniform.  But I generally don't judge by that.  I'm okay with boring.  In the first message.  So I read his profile.  And under first date:  It suggested we dress up like bees, go to the park and sting people.  Now certainly I don't think he is the first person to say/think/write this.  But I thought it was pretty fuckin' cute/funny nonetheless.  And we carried on a banter.  But alas.  It was time for me to depart POF.  So I did something I never do.  I suggested we carry this on.  On Facebook.  *gasp*  I know.  But once a dam breaks.  There's really no stopping it.

So added he got.  But that's not the end of the facebook insanity.  Because I still saw a potential for dating.  I kept my wall blocked from him.  Sure he could peruse the photos.  But see me posting about the blog and boys and the gym etc.?  Nope.  No access to that.  And the thing is.  He wasn't alone.  Because there is another boy.  Not yet a something.  But not nothing.  A boy I shall call.  The Time Bandit (to be discussed further at a later date).

So that's 4.  For those of you keeping track.  From 0 to 4 in a heartbeat.  Tossing the datey-no-facebookey rule out the window.  Just like that *tosses rule book out window* *shrug* no biggie.  I mean just look at me.  Facebooking my ass off.  And it really is the end of an era.  Because it comes right at the end.  The end of The Boys of Summer.  My summer gone wild.  The era of "Somethings".  And what's going to happen with them.  Maybe nothing.  Maybe good things.  Maybe bad things.  But the dam broke.  And I'm okay with it. 

For now.

Dear Boys, And THAT's Why You're On PlentyofFish.com

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Trucker Joe: My Golden Egg (and the almost analogy)

So the truth is.  I was disappointed.  With how things with Trucker Joe turned out.  I mean not completely.  Not totally.  But there was definitely some disappointment.  I mean.  It was kind of like working on a project.  Putting in time and effort.  And then your boss tells you that the promotion you were doing all this hardwork for.  Is not a possibility.  But he says.  They're looking for a new guy down in human resources and I think you'd be perfect for the job.  So I mean.  It's not the end of the world.  It's not even really that big of a deal.  But it's a disappointment.  Because it wasn't what you were expecting.

So what had I been expecting?

And I should preface this by saying.  It's not like I'd been sitting around.  All these last few weeks.  Chin resting in palm.  Elbow resting on knee.  Eyes a-glaze with girlish naiveté and relationship anticipation.  Boy please.  We all know that's not who I am.  But I did have some hopes.  Some expectations.

It's not a big deal though.  But I am disappointed I say, on the phone to my big bro.  But I had kind of been hoping that...ya know...he would be my Golden Egg.  To which he responded.  A guy to buy you shit you mean?  And that's when I realized it.  I had my analogies all mixed up.  Because that's not at all what I meant.  No I said surprised.  Honestly the thought hadn't occurred to me.  I mean.  I'm all for a guy buying my coffee.  Since I just spent $45 getting a pedi (among numerous other things).  But a sugardaddy.  I wish lol.  So No I say.  Not that at all.  So what then? he asks.  Uh...something I wouldn't want to talk about with my brother I say.  And we move on to other topics.

A conversation with TheHell goes the same way.  Except that I can say what I really mean.  Though really.  She already knows.  Because if anything.  While I've become less sexually outspoken about boys these days.  TheHell is ready to pick up the slack on my behalf.  In fact.  Recently.  When asking her hubs to ask a friend of his what he thinks of SSD, like does he think she's cute?  To which his response is something along the lines of how his friend just got out of a relationship and she quickly quips She's not looking for a soulmate...just someone to stick the dick in her.  Though the truth is.  Really.  I was just kind of thinking me and him could have some fun with TheHell and the hubs.  You know.  Play some Mario Party. Smoke some weed.  And just see what happens.  Maybe we just laugh.  Maybe we makeout a bit.  Whatevs. 

But I digress.  Back to what I was expecting.  What I was hoping for.  Honestly.  (and I promised TheHell I would include this actual statement *as said in real life* that in fact).  I was hoping for someone to stick it to me...at least until Christmas break.  And as much as that statement is true.  A garaunteed lay does wonders for your ability to focus on school.  Just Sayin'.  What I was honestly most disappointed about.  Was the other stuff.  The taking it slow stuff.  Because there's a lot to be said for taking it slow.

Detour.  See.  It's not that I wanted a booty call.  Because honestly.  The opportunities for that are there.  I mean they're not good opportunities.  Like Lindsay's Law.  He called the next day.  Apologized for being a douche.  Tried to make it up.  Told me I was awesome (yeah...I know...douche).  Asked me out again.  But he's got several factors working against him (small dick, bad...for lack of a better word...lover, sloppy).  The thing is.  Even if Lindsay's Law hadn't had like the smallest not-quite-hard dick known to man.  I still wouldn't be calling him.  Okay well it would put him higher on the stable list.  But I'm guessing it'd be November before I called.  But you can't hope a small dick big.  So there ya go.  But the point is.  Even if he had one.  I'm not excited.  Because he was sloppy.  And fast.  Too fast.  Not fun.  Too sloppy.  Not fun.  He was like a puppy.  A wet puppy shaking off his fur and getting you all messy.  And though you're like.  Okay puppy means well.  Honestly you're like.  Motherfucker!  He was like a kid.  And I kind of figured it out.  Because I get that saying.  Women are in their sexual prime in their 30s.  And I'm 2 weeks till my 29th birthday and it sounds about right.  I know what I want now.  I know what I like.  How to get it.  What to do.  I'm all over it.  Sure there's always room for learning and experimenting.  But the point is.  I only just figured this shit out.  So Lindsay's Law.  At 26.  And he's probably used to dating.  What?  Probably like 22 year olds.  Who don't know shit yet?  So how are they going to teach him right?  He's got no chance.

Back on Track.  So like I was saying.  I was disappointed.  I was disappointed there wouldn't be making out on couches in my future.  There wouldn't be a first time in the back of a pickup while camping in the woods (Diana...the prophecy didn't come true with Trucker Joe but I haven't given up yet).  There wouldn't be first bases.  Second bases.  Third bases.  And home runs.  There wouldn't be.  Red Lacies on a bedroom floor.  There wouldn't be.  Well.  Frankly.  Repeatable sex with a white guy.  Something I've never had.  For Reference.  Made out with a white guy more than once?  Yes.  Slept with white guys?  A few.  Not many.  Slept with a white guy more than once?  Nope.  Seriously?  Yep.  Totally serious.  But mostly.  To sum it all up.  Completely.  I was disappointed.  Because it all feels a bit foolish now.  Like although I am still pleased with the writing in Tuesday.  Hot.  Sticky.  Delicious.  I feel a bit like a moron.  Like a tool.  Especially when I reread.  This part.

He likes me. He respects me. I feel it in his touch. I taste it in his mouth. I can feel his heart pounding in his chest. I. want. you you. I. want. you you. I. want. you you.

Because now I'm like.  Aww shit.  *palm to forehead*  He was probably thinking...

Get.  Off.  me bitch.  Get.  Off.  me bitch.  Get.  Off.  me bitch.  (okay so I'm kinda joking with this one)

Or

Please.  Be.  attracted.  Please.  Become.  attracted.  Please.  Be.  attracted. 

Or

This.  Is.  bor-ing.  This.  Is.  bor-ing.  This.  Is.  bor-ing. 

Or whatever other possibilities there are.  But either way.  He was not thinking.  God you're sexy.  I want your lady bits.  I.  want.  you you.  I.  want.  you you.

So this analogy.  I finally figured it out.  While out coffee with a friend.  I hadn't meant that I had hoped he was my Golden Egg.  I had hoped that he was my Golden Goose.  The analogy works with both examples.  Example 1  Example 2.  In example one the Golden Goose leads to a smiling princess.  In example two the goose lays golden eggs (till they kill it but that part isn't necessary).  But the point is.  Trucker Joe.  Turns out.  Neither.  At least.  Not in the way I was hoping.  And part is me is totally fine with that.  Truth be told the biggest part of me is fine with it.

The other part.  Is a bit pissed.  No lie.  But is it really Trucker Joe's fault?  That I'm not so sure.  The thing is.  I've spent basically the last two months dating him.  Every week.  Every week like clockwork.  He asks.  And we go out.  Now I've been free to date other boys during this time.  And I have.  But the thing is.  I've been pickier (not always a bad thing).  More dismissive of other boys.  My blocked list on POF is easily 75 boys deep.  No joke.  And while not my prince charmings.  Perhaps there were a couple boys in there.  Who had Golden Goose potential.  Potential to be not retarded and the ability to stick it to me in a manner I deem fit until Christmas break.  Now sure enough.  I'm likely to blame.  But I can't help but thinking.  I sure do wish Trucker Joe had just told me this ages ago.  Instead of making me wring it out of him after suffering date after date of confusion.  And I know I said only moments ago that a part of me was pissed.  But I'm not even sure pissed is the right word.  Because I'm not really angry.  It's just kind of like.  That sucks.  *shrugs*

And the final part of the disappointment.  Is the confusion.  That accompanies it.  Because here's the thing of the thing.  I get it.  If you don't like my personality.  And thus don't want to spend time with me.  And I get it if you don't think I'm attractive.  And thus never want to get physical with me.  I even get it if I'm just your jump off or booty call or whatever so that you find me sexually attractive but are not marking the territorial limits around me for whatever reason.  But what I don't get.  Is the making out?  Is the making out and me being the one to be like...slow that down.  Is the move making by Him?  I don't understand what happened there.  And so I asked him.  Via facebook. 

What was with the kissing? like...if you're not attracted to me...why was there any kissing? Was it just a case of...well...I'll just give it a try and hope an attraction to her grows? Did my one time mention of it via text make you feel super pressured or something? Did you just do it as some sort of misguided attempt to placate me so that I wouldn't stop hanging out with you? Another reason I haven't thought of? And honestly I'm asking in the most non-critical but super curious...I have to know the answer to things kind of way :)

And we'll just have to see.  There might be answers forthcoming.  There might be none.  There's always the possibility of no response at all.  We'll see.  But afterall.  What have I got to lose?  Because while school is on.  I can justify throwing on some makeup and doing my hair.  Getting a pedi and shaving my legs.  For a quick romp in the hay.  For a friend.  For a friend that I wouldn't feel comfortable being in my jogging pants, hoodie, and built in bra shirt, hair up in an ugly knob thing and no makeup in sight.  That's a whole other story.  Though technically.  When leaving.  That last night with him.  I joked.  That he would be getting the comfortable bras in his future.  So who knows. 

The Answers Trilogy: Friendship and For Reference

So I had just blurted it out.  I have a blog...which you're in obviously.  And you know me.  Go hard or go home right?  So while trying to explain to him how to find the blog and all that.  I just added.  No worries.  I'll just facebook you.  Like no biggie.  Just like that.  No biggie.  I'll facebook you.  And he seemed pretty cool with it all.  Seemed pretty relaxed to hear that I had been writing about him this whole time. 

And don't think I just threw this info out there.  Without a thought.  I mean.  I've written the blog.  I know what I've said about him.  And I know that he comes off well.  I told him this.  I knew it would be okay for him to read it.  If he wanted to.  Honestly.  I wasn't that sure he'd even be interested.  And to be real.  To be quite honest.  I think the whole thing was a bit of a knee-jerk reaction.  Me telling him I mean.  Like flipping a switch.  And I can see him. Like on the end of a little crane.  Getting picked up.  Right out of that swoony.  Dating.  Lusty.  Boy category.  And shuffled over.  To that friend.  Category.  Only.  It's weird.  Because.  Well.  I don't have male friends.

But back to the scene of this event.  Back to me and him.  Sitting on the couch.  At his place.  Cards on the table.  And we talk.  About his ex.  About Mega Love.  He asks if I went to see Mega Love when I went shopping in Seattle.  I tell him yes.  I tell him I also saw him in July.  Before that.  We talk about dates.  The dates I've been on since meeting him (not in detail...just that I've had them).  He tells me he's had none.  We talk about breakups.  He thinks that Mega Love and I might not really be completely broken up.  Because we keep seeing each other.  We talk about boys.  Honestly it's all a bit of a blur.  I was actually pretty excited to be able to talk about this stuff.  To tell him about my blog.  It was all pretty fun.  Any disappointment I feel *spoiler alert* wouldn't sink in for a few days.  But basically the important stuff.  Like how awesome he thought I was.  And how much he enjoyed hanging out with me.  That came across.

At one point.  I couldn't stop myself though.  I said something.  Likely.  Pretty douchey.  But I was joking.  Mostly.  (try to remember I'm a on a starving student budget).  And as I walked into the kitchen for a glass of water I said So...does this mean I'm going to have to start paying for stuff *giggles*.  And no lie.  Trucker Joe hit it out of the park.  No he says friends do that stuff too.  And at the time I was thinking...not so much.  But it's true.  We do.  TheHell was having a rough day today.  So I brought her Starbucks.  Another friend was having moola issues a couple days ago.  So I picked up the tab at Sushi.  So he was right in that sense.

Eventually it was time for the night to end.  Afterall.  No reason for everybody not to get a good night's rest.  With no sex or shenanigans on the horizon.  And as we were walking to the door.  I made a comment about.  Could you imagine me as a Professor?  Especially now? (As in, how awesome would that be).  And he said something about me becoming famous long before that...for writing a column in a newspaper or something (and this was just from our conversations...he hadn't read the blog yet).  And then he walked me to my car.  And we were both all smiles.  Like who knew.  Dating turned friending might just work out awesome afterall. 

As we hugged goodbye.  I said.  So I guess just gimme a call if you want to hang out.  To which he responded Oh...I'll definitely be harassing you to hang out.  And that was it.  I drove home.  Still all smiles.  I wasn't faking.  I was actually really excited.  I mean sure.  It's always an ego hit when someone isn't attracted to you.  I mean shit.  Even though logic tells me it would have nothing to do with me.  If a guy I was dating was suddenly like.  I'm gay.  I'd still be a little.  aw...you mean I wasn't hot enough to turn you straight?  Which for reference I know is ridiculous being that I think people are born gay so it's not even an option.  But I'm just saying.  Sometimes things are irrational.  Just the way it is.  And I could be fine with that.

So the night ended.  With a smile on my face.  A Friendship on the horizon.  And a person to add on Facebook.  And it's a week later now.  And I still have a bit more to say on the subject.  Like what happened with me.  Like what happened with me and him.  In that week that's passed.  But that's a whole other post.  Coming soon.  But for today.  I have to say this. 

I feel a bit.  As though I may have let you down.  My readers.  My dear, dear readers.  Because For Reference. These are not the posts I wanted to write. For Reference.  I wanted to tell you about kissing. That makes my knees weak. Laughter that carries across lakes. Giving it up in the back of a pickup truck like a hicktown babe or a city girl gone summer vacay. For Reference.  I want to insinuate the passion between sheets. Electricity between fingertips. I want to tell you how a boy's soft tongue tastes in my memory the day after. I want you to swoon with me. Let's talk magic. Let's talk romance. But romance in that summer fling kinda way. Without all that heavy for the rest of our lives is-he-the-one bullshit. I want to regale you with a tale of romance the way I want it told. From the mind of a 28 year old working her body like an 18 year old full of lust and freedom in the heart of a 14 year old who doesn't yet know better.  Only knowing better.  I didn't need it to be perfect. I wasn't trying on slippers. No one was looking for that perfect fit. But for a moment.  For this one moment. This. Very. Moment. Right here. Right now. I didn't want hilarity. And you almost never hear me say that. I just wanted. A summer romance. But here we are. And summer is almost over.  And I've got no summer romance.  No silky legs sliding about on silky sheets.  No soft lips to brush mine up against.  No hand on my ass.  Marking some territory.  If only for one night.  One date.  One summer romance.  For Reference.  I'll make it up to you.

The Answers Trilogy: Definitions and Definitelys

So when I last left you.  We were discussing the size of my Chuck Norris balls.  Or something like that.  Basically we were at the point where I had finally asked Trucker Joe what the fucking deal was.  But hadn't yet gotten to any actual answers.

So there I was.  Balls out.  Asking.  So.  Seriously.  Are you attracted to me?  He made some kind of noise to indicate obviously.  Said something to back this insinuation up.  But I wasn't falling for it again.  I mean shit.  He'd already said yes he was attracted to me.  And we'd already made out like teenagers.  In such a good way.  What I had thought.  Was.  Hot.  Sticky.  Tuesday.  Delicious.  But they say.  (they being the experts obviously.)  They say.  To listen to what a guy tells you.  To take them at their word.  And that's when it occurs to me.  Maybe the words are the problem.

So I ask.  I clarify.  I mean.  There's a difference I say.  Between thinking I'm attractive and being attracted to me.  Lightbulb moment.  He looks relieved.  Likes that's it.  Finally got it all figured out.  And I'm thinking.  Fuck.  Me.  He's not attracted to me?  What.  The.  Fuck.  Obviously I don't say this.  Because I'm Nonchalant Nancy.  I'm Okay-with-everything Odette.  Everything is always Breezy with Betty.  At the time we kind of just carry on.  Like okay.  We've established the correct definitions for these words attractive and attracted to.  So it all makes sense now.  Only.  Wait.  Didn't we make out like two dates ago?  So obviously we're not totally at the root of the issue.

So I'm balls to the wall again..  I just opened my mouth and asked. What. Is the deal? And his response was...

Okay wait. Detour. I don't know why I always feel the need to protect some of the "somethings" but I do.  And this is another example.  Because what he said.  Well.  Not super suave.  Not super on point.  Kind of a little.  Er.  Um.  Weird.  But I know why he said it.  The point was more about the feelings.  Than the words he used.  So while I know this all about to break your little precious hearts.  The hearts that swooned with me when he and I had our big makeout sesh.  Try not to be too hard on him.  Because as you'll see soon enough.  It might hurt his feelings.  So like I was saying.  His response was.  Something along the line of.  Er...um...I don't love you.  And my ego.  Is obliterated.

Only.  Wait.  What?  I mean.  Wait huh?  Like obviously he doesn't love me.  I mean.  I sure as fuck don't love him.  Truth be told I barely know if I like him.  I mean.  Shit.  We barely know each other.  Like come the fuck on bridget!  And while I sit there trying to look like Nonchalant Nancy on the outside.  While I'm confused and frustrated Carly-Francine on the inside.  He continues.  Tries to explain it.  And I won't really get into it.  Mostly because it's been a week now as I write this.  And it's all I can do to remember the gist and order of the conversation.  Let alone the actual words.  Though the I don't love you was pretty easy to recall lol.  But the gist of it is this.  He was married.  For a good while.  It did not end well.  He is not over it.  Sure he's not in love anymore.  But that's peanuts.  That's nothing compared to all the other shit that happens when things go south in a relationship.  And sure it's been a year.  Since they ended things.  But it's not like he spent the year healing.  It was an angry year.  Honestly I still think it is a bit.  He needs time.  And honestly.  Some counselling might help.  I mean shit.  I talked to someone after Mega Love and I split.  Back in October.  When I needed to be focused on school and not him.  I still remember describing my feelings as big angry red hands (possibly around his neck lol!).  And I mean honestly.  We were a pretty amicable split by comparison.  And look at me now.  Life is peachy.  Just Sayin'.

So I think I'm getting a bit off topic here.  Because what's important isn't really his plan of action.  How he's going to get his shit handled.  So I should say.  I was actually taking this pretty well.  I mean hearing that someone isn't attracted to you.  That the guy you've been dating.  Or thought you've been dating.  Have we been friending?  Suddenly pulls a quick bait and switch.  Suddenly there is no sex is your future.  At least not with him.  I mean that's kind of sucky news.  And I was all smiles.  Like no big thing.  I'm breezy, remember?  Everything is light and carefree.  Peachy.  Relaxed.  Calm.

So we talk for awhile.  I get to find out all kinds of fun things.  Like whether or not I look like my pictures (something I would never normally ask).  Good.  You look better than most of your pictures.  Except that one with the aqua jacket and teal background.  (which I didn't clarify but I hope he meant I look exactly like and not that I look worse lol).  Hubba Hubba he says.  He has noticed how much weight I've lost just since meeting him.  Which was something I'd been wondering.  Like was it noticeable.  Did he notice?

But even with all this chatter.  Which is fun.  I'm wondering.  Like.  If you're not attracted to me.  If everytime you see the curve of my hip and the crease of my cleave you're not thinking of all the saucy things you want to do to me.  Why have we been hanging out this much.  Like 7 dates.  Seriously?  But wait.  Because.  Didn't he once say.  Specifically.  That there were all kinds of things he wanted to do to me...er...um...with me.  And I guess.  It seems.  Like he just thinks I'm awesome.  And best guess.  Doesn't want to lose me as a friend.  So like.  Are we friends then?  Like is that what we're doing?

And within moments.  I take us from definitions to definitelys.  Because I'm like that.  I compartmentalize.  And if you no longer fit in the boy-I'm-dating box.  I guess I have to shuffle you on over to that friend side.  Which bee tee dub.  Is occupied solely by chicks.  But we'll talk more about this later.  And I know what you're thinking.  Just because he's a friend now...but I'll stop you right there.  Because we can't go back from here.  I blurted too quickly.  Or maybe not.  But either way.  This is the path we're on.  The friendship path.  And the dating path has been closed for renovations.  I mean really.  More like demolitions.

So...I'm not sure if I should tell you.  But.  Er.  Um.  I guess since we're friends now.  So...I have this blog.

And that was it folks.  Definite.  Cannot go back.  The moment that all rules went out the window.  The never-tell-them-about-the-blog rule.  The datey-no-facebookey rule.  All the rules.  Right out the window.  Which is fine.  I guess.  I think.  Maybe.  I mean we'll see.  But we definitely can't go back now.  And so I sat there.  And looked at his face.  And waited.  To see his reaction.  To this news.  That he was a celebrity.  When it came to being a "something" which I had dated.

To Be Continued...