Somebody Loved Me Once

Somebody loved me once.  Says so on my resume,
Somewhere in between ability to chug beer
And affinity for listening without judgment,
It's there.  A badge of honor.  A letter of recommendation
Cupid's parking lot attendant stamped me, I'm
Validated.  Insured.  A tally sheet and value assessment
I've got it in writing.  R.I.P. it says.  Here lies,
A relationship.  We had it, we had one, we had,
Each other.  Once.  Grew past it though,
I guess.  Like braces and summer camp,
It changed us, memories stuck to the bottom.
Our sticky feet taking careful steps now,
That it's over.  You loved me once.  He loved me,
Once.  Somebody loved me once.  See,
I'm amazing, see like proof, see like
Tangible.  Someone loved me once.  Says so,
On my resume.

What I'd Give For A Discussion

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What I'd Give For A Discussion

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Never Leave the Party Early: Or, Why I Tell "Somethings" About the Blog

I hate to leave a party early.  Literally.  Metaphorically.  Consistently.  I hold strong to this.  I'm committed.  It's vital.  Fucking integral.  To my happiness.  I never leave a party early.  I'd hate to have to leave a party early.  Don't make me leave the party early.

It has something to do with opportunities.  A fear of missed opportunities I think.  You see.  I don't believe in God.  And I don't believe in fate or destiny.  Life just happens.  And it's beautiful.  But that's it.  Ebb and flow.  Tide comes in.  Tide goes out.  Life carries on.  So the fun won't wait for me.  Won't hold strong for me to return.  So I feel a need to be there for it.  Squeeze as much out of the lemon as I can.  Drink it all.  Laugh at it all.  Take pictures to remember it all.  Love.  Every.  Goddamn.  Minute.  Of it all.  Every moment is the time of my life.  So you can see.  How I wouldn't want to leave a party early.  How I wouldn't want burn a bridge between me and fun.  Even.  Just.  Hypothetical-chance-it-might-happen kind of fun.  Dating.  Is sort of like that for me.  The not wanting to leave early.

Now don't get me wrong.  When dating goes bad.  When lusting goes sour.  When hanging out becomes not fun.  I'm ready to throw in the towel.  Cut the ripcord.  Burn that mother down.  But when it goes.  Just.  Nowhere.  Maybe to a let's just be friends kind of place or a booty call passionate nights kind of thing.  When it goes there.  I don't know.  I just feel.  A flaw compulsion not to end things.  So permanently.  I feel compelled to offer a tie.  A hand.  An olive branch.  To be like.  Yeah you screwed up, you lost me.  But obvs. it wasn't a good fit.  No biggie.  Maybe you're retarded.  Maybe I'm retarded.  Hopefully one day we'll both find someone we can be retarded for.  And so I wish you the best.  No hard feelings.  We're straight.

And that's why I tell them.  About the blog.  That's why.  I show them a piece of me.  Let me in a little.  Let them see a little.  Give them a place of contact.  A point of reference.  I won't push them out of the party early.  I won't leave the party early.  And we don't have to talk to each other.  But at the very least we can still share a bag of chips.  Share the possibility of cotton candy.  Share the potential for a joke.

So it's not about showing them what they did wrong.  Or revealing how they might have hurt me.  It's not even really about them.  It's just about life.  And people.  Them and me.  Us.  Divided by a bridge.  That I won't light a match over.  Even if at first they think my words are the thing doing that for me.  This blog.  Holds strong.  Because after all.  When the dating profiles get taken down.  In a world where I still maintain some privacy over my facebook.  And major privacy over my home phone number.  And have a cell phone that is both unreliable and maintains an often changing number.  It is a link.  Keeping a presence.  Holding a place.  For contact.  For a joke.  For a smile.  For the fun at the party.  Mind the Gap.  And never leave the party early.

He Was a Dick and I Got Cocky

The PhD.  We had a first date.  He seemed super interested.  I wanted to be super interested.  But the next week.  The one in which he said we should go out again.  It came and went.  And we did not go out again.  In fact after that initial date and texting session.  We never spoke again.  Nothing.  Nada.

Now I can't say I'm super upset.  Mostly I'm just peeved the same way a child is when you tell them they can't have a toy even though they likely forget what it is they wanted within an hour.  Mostly just upset when somebody isn't fucking falling-off-chairs-writing-love-poems-masterbating-non-stop-to-thoughts-of-me-swooning over me.  But I'll survive.

The truth of the matter is.  This was a glaring rebuttal to my previous theories about A. my ability to manipulate my own feelings of chemistry and B. the fact that simple intelligence is enough for me.  The thing of the thing is.  He was a bit creepy.  I wasn't very attracted.  Truth be told.  If it hadn't been for his raging intelligence...I likely would've never gone out with him at all.  Not even a second look.  And I definitely wouldn't have been up for a quick peck on the date.  A lip or two.  A kiss kiss wait and kiss and done.  But it happened.  Because he wooed me.  Just a smidge.  Just a titch.  Barely at all.  But a bit.  With his brain.

The same brain which I attribute his being a dick to.  Because honestly he was a bit of a dick.  In the arrogance kind of way.  But honestly I get it.  I don't know how you can be that smart and not be a little dickish.  Just Sayin'.  And did I want a second date.  Certainly.  Did I want a future.  Likely not.  But at the very least I wanted to be nominated for an award.  I wanted a callback.  A 2nd round job interview.  I at least wanted my name on the fucking ballot.

And the truth is I thought it was.  Would be.  Was getting one.  I was cocky.  I assumed he'd thought I was awesome.  And maybe he did.  Maybe he lost interest because I didn't get frisky on the first date.  Maybe he sensed my lack of lust for him.  Maybe the after date texting was a trap that I sluttily fell into.  Maybe he has a girlfriend.  Maybe he's gay.  Maybe he's dead.  Who the fuck knows.  And aside from the fact that.  Pause.  I know this doesn't make me look good.  Unpause.  Aside from the fact that this would have been excellent research into what it's like dating smart guys (something I have no experience with), it's really not a huge deal. That and ya know I had been hoping to have sex with a super aggressive guy.  Fail.  But hey.  You win some you lose some.  Sometimes it's as simple as that.  He was a dick.  I got cocky.  Nobody made contact.  And it all just went away.  The end (of ThePhD).

7: (A poetic doodle of sorts)

I love you.
I love you.  Like the number 7,
the one everyone always guesses first.
I love you luck, and odd, and integer
full and fractionless
You are the whole pie, lick blueberries off your lips.
Ice cream off your hands and I love you.
More than, halfway plus 2
Above an average of kisses and days
More more more, I love you.  More.
Flashlights through trees like you lost me
Stealth and hunting, for the perfect 10.
Waiting, orange vested love.  Safety first love.
Safety in numbers love.  Buckle me in.
Love you like right answers.  Just one.
Plus half a dozen donuts, you coat me
I love you upside down L.  L for love.  L for lonely.  L for leaving me.  Never.  Number.  7.
I love you.

The Announcement.

So here it is folks.  The announcement.  That is likely irrelevant to most of  you.  But very important in my life nonetheless.  Because it changes everything.  Completely.  Alters everything.  Wholly and fully.  My approach to dating will be different.  The boys in my life will be different.  Different.  Different.  Different.  The balls in my life, that would have been satisfied in my life, will be denied.  Denied.  Denied.  Denied.

See the thing is.  I've always felt I was hard to get.  In the quality sense of the word.  As in.  I'm a quality chick.  A boy would be lucky to have me (as I would him, assuming he's awesome).  And to get into my heart.  Well that's pretty fucking hard.  Just sayin'.  But somewhere along the way I got all mixed up with what I thought being nice and breezy and go with the flowy wise.  Plus the whole ya know...used to having sex like a dude...slash...thinking about sex like a dude...slash...wanting sex all the time like a dude.  Really clouds your judgement sometimes.  Just sayin'.

So perhaps I've been going about this all wrong.  This whole dating thing.  So here's the change.  And I know it'll sound simple at first.  Oh so very simple, you might not even spot the difference at first.

I.  Will.  Be.  Hard.  To.  Get.

Simple I know.  Easy peasy you'd think.  Got it.  But the thing is.  This isn't a rules type thing.  I'm not going to be playing hard to get I'm actually going to be fucking hard to get.  Genius I know right.  And yes I'm well aware ladies and men the world over are aware of this concept.  But don't hinder my growth.  This is new for me.  So I'm going to say it again.  One more time.  Just to make it really clear.

I.  Will.  Be.  Hard.  To.  Get.

So this is me, SSDated, telling all of you.  Kind of like a contract.  I will be accepting no shit.  I will not be stooping from my station.  I will not be getting down and dirty in heated nights of passion strings flapping in the breeze.  I will be sexless.  And focused.  Mamma's got her head on straight.  Because you know what.  Even in the conceptual round of booty calls.  I've been accepting too little.  In the future I will only be dating boys who are gentlemen, who think I'm beyond fantastic, who swoon for me.  In the future I will only be taking part in raucous romps with a man who is so intensely into me he can barely contain himself.  He should think I'm so beautiful it hurts.  So funny he might die.  So delicious he never needs food again (don't worry though I make a mean sandwich, I'll keep him fed).  Now I'm not saying he has to be nuts...and fall in love with me overnight because that's not what I mean.  But here's the thing of the thing.  I will not hold my breath for boys who think I'm awesome but there's something "missing".  I will not waste time on boys who feel I'm "awesome" just "not awesome enough".  

And who knows.  Maybe between all the studying.  I might find that I.  Meet a boy.  Worth swooning over.  And not simply because we're feeling lusty at that exact moment.  A fickle bitch that lust is.  But someone of quality.  Who sees that I'm of quality.  And feels swoony for me in return.  And his Chuck Norris sized balls.  To go after what he makes.  To claim his prize.  Me.  Because after all.  Maybe there is a boy out there worth  waiting for, who one day might say those words that I would then return right back [I'm Retarded For You]

The Question.

You're going to ask why.  I can feel it.  Or you're already asking it really.  Have been asking it.  Since probably sometime right after the first date.  And you feel the need to ask.  Because I wasn't asking it then.  Haven't asked it until now.  Well a little before now.  But the now that is after our date(s).

Why was I so accepting of such little when it came to TheNickName?  And the funny thing is.  I didn't really see it till now.  Till the end.  Well.  Sort of the end.  Mostly the end.  I think it's the end.  Be strong.  This is the end.  End.  End.  End.

I mean I always knew it wasn't great.  I'm not retarded.  I can feel when things change.  When they go from him being ridiculously eager to talk to me.  To just ya know talking to me.  To being too busy.  But not in a bullshit way that makes him an out and out asshole.  But in an actually busy but if he really liked me he could easily make time so sort of soft core douche move kinda way.  But even so.  I'm not being a hater.  People are born to be douches.  There are always moments when it's not you being dishonest with a person about whether or not you like them.  It's you.  Trying to figure out.  Whether or not you fucking like them.  And so I get it.  But the truth is. I knew something was up.  I knew he didn't like me ENOUGH.  But the question begs.  Why was I still around then?  And THAT is what I've figured out the answer for.  Allow me to explain.

Click the Link For [The Backstory].

So the question at hand.  Well.  I always sort of figured.  Who do guys want to date? (not marry or even make their girlfriend) but just have fun with?  The fun girl.  The breezy chick.  The happy go lucky gal.  And so that's who I planned to be.  Relaxed.  Only I never really saw the flaw in this at the time.  That the happy girl.  Is attainable.  And perhaps that's the biggest flaw of all.  But the truth of the matter is I'm not some pathetic chick hanging on the words of guys waiting by the phone for them to call (all recent TheNickName evidence to the contrary I know!)

I'm adorable.  I'm hilarious.  Some have said beautiful.  I'm hoping sexy as hell.  I'm smart.  And I have big plans for my life.  I think everyday is another chance to make someone else smile, laugh, feel loved.  I'm a catch motherfucker (except for that whole swearing like a trucker bit but whatever).  In the words of a special lady...

@melaniehokenMelanie Ho Ken | MUA

@SSDated True story. You are too legitimately brilliant & have too much to risk in terms of your goals.

5 hours ago via Twitter for iPhone Unfavorite Retweet Reply

So again.  We ask why have I been putting up with so much shit.  Partly it's because guys I'm actually interested in (read: not creeped out by, not too retarded to function, not ignorant or angry types) are so few and far between that I hold very little hope for a dude that might actually make me swoon.  Additionally, the big goal was to date.  Lots.  Hopefully many boys at the same time.  Not maliciously.  But because I think it's good to spread it around a bit (not a euphemism).  But the flaw with that is I've been putting up with more because I wanted to keep them in the race.  But times.  They are a-changin'.

The Backstory.

Avid readers feel free to peruse the journey up to know.  Boys interested in me and others with time constraints feel free to scroll down to the Coles Notes portion

When I first began my adventure into dating I went slow.  I have a BA in psychology and common sense.  I knew it would bizarre.  I knew it would be probably the most intense it would ever be.  Emotions about relationship past.  Emotions about newfound dating arena.  Emotions about dating white guys in general lol.  So I took it slow.  I was prepared.  Well sort of.  But at least.  Ya know.  Sexually speaking.  I kept it cordial with kissing.  That was until I met a man who tried to woo me in his jogging pants [Law and Order: Dockett Number 492801, People vs. Garbage Man] and so I eased back a bit.

Then I had a new plan.  I was going to be breezy.  [Being Breezy:  Learning Life Skills From TV].  And then there miraculously I was.  It was summer.  I found a boy I thought was hilarious.  We had witty repartee.  And a sexual spark.  He wanted to go for it (obvs.).  I wanted to go for it.  My friends thought I should go for it.  And I went for it.  Slutted it right up.  And it was awesome.  [It's My Boy Party and I'll Enjoy Who I Want To].  And this taught me some things.  Mostly that I was fine.  After my 6 year relationship with MegaLove had finished and time had passed.  I was fine.  And that began my Summer of Boys [The Boys of Summer]

"I want to have fun fun fun and nothing nothing nothing but fun. 

 I want to have first kisses and 6 hour dates. I want ridiculously 

hilarious stories to ply my friends/blog readers with. I want to 

juggle. I want 4 dates a week. I want to date multiple people at 

the same time. I want to have fun fun fun. I want to ride go karts 

and shoot pool. I want to play darts and go bowling. I want to play 

naked scrabble and go camping. I want to laugh laugh laugh more 

than I've ever laughed before. I want inside jokes and sexy banter, 

witty repartee and have you been there? I want everything. I want 

it now. I want it this summer."

But the thing is.  I'm a realist.  And I kind of had this theory.  Now to be clear.  I think I'm bloody amazing.  In all honesty perhaps too much so.  In my defense I also think lots of other people are amazing (most of you in fact, almost the whole world) so this isn't to say I think I'm better than anyone.  But like I said.  A realist.  I know what guys like.  What guys want.  What people want really.  And so there were a few things that were factoring into my date selection.  And who was making the cut.

[Until I'm the Biggest Loser I'll Have to Settle for the Biggest Losers] and [Addendum to the Biggest Loser]

Some might call it settling.  But to me.  Settling is more of a permanent thing.  Like I settled forever and now my life is shit.  Not.  I accepted a little less now but I'm not worried about the future when I will require and expect much much more.  See?  But the thing of the thing was.  I kept meeting fucking loser guys.  Okay actually that's too harsh and kind of inaccurate.  Because it's not that the guys were necessarily losers.  They weren't always winners either.  But the biggest problem.  Was the fact that I was basically expecting these guys who I often had extremely little in common with, to become totally enamored with me possibly unaware of our time-limited dating future.  I was purposely fishing in waters that my whale (my unicorn, my prince charming) would not swim in.  [The Catch:  Brought to You By My Dad].

The other problem with my plan.  Nobody else wants to test the waters.  Meet new people they are not completely smitten with.  Nobody else is willing to accept just a good time and fun for the moment.  Unless of course we're just talking sex.  Straight up no strings attached sex.  Which regardless of the fact that I am a very sexual person.  Shocking I know.  As evidenced a tiny bit here.  [Don't Let Your Kink Go Konk ,Chokehold] and here [I Am The Christopher Columbus of Kink]  Just sex.  Wasn't what I was looking for.  I wanted to date.  Sure being slutty was fun too.  And I could be up for that.  But more often than not.  They were either awful or we never got that far.  And that kind of brings us to where we are now.  Read the Coles Notes of skip past those who have read this far.

Coles Notes
- 6 year relationship ended
- I wanted breezy fun (dating)
- I just wanted to be [Army Fun:  Being All the Single I Could Be]
- I wanted to sow my oats, test some waters, date more 
than one guy at a time, basically be a bad ass bitch...but 
ya know...nicely
- Figured I'd have some good sex too
- Everything was going to be casual and low key
- Standards would reflect what I was asking for
- I didn't want a fuck buddy or a fucking soul-mate either [The Light Bulb and the Sports Car]

Rip the Bandaid, Bitch! (Part Two)

Continued from Rip the Bandaid, Bitch! (Part One)

So like I was saying.  I had hoped he would call.  After whatever blah blah excuse he had given me.  But he didn't.  At least.  Not that night.  The next morning however.  I was woken up by a text.  Well more exactly I was woken up by Alice Cooper blaring ♫ Poison, You're poison running through my veins, You're poison, I don't wanna break these chains ♫ And in case you're not a long time reader.  This is where I have to mention again.  I have the cell phone from hell.  I live in the Bermuda fucking triangle.  This is NOT an exaggeration.  I have THE worst luck with cell phones and reliable service.  So it is not uncommon to miss text messages.  To get them long after they were sent.  To get them in indecipherable pieces.  Just Sayin'.

This morning was unlikely to be any different.  When there it was.  Showing up.  Coming through.  The piece of a puzzle of messages.  Only.  Something like the middle.  That's it.  Fuck.

Easy to say, especially when you 
care for someone.  Then as I 
delayed it, it became harder and 
harder to call.  I'm spending.

What.  The.  Fuck.  This is obviously only a piece of the message.  So I text back saying as much.  Either to resend or call.  He calls.  FUCK.  I answer.  It's a bit awkward.  Plus it's also a bit hazy.  It's fucking like 8:20am and I'm a student.  Plus just in general not a morning person.

The gist of what he says is this.

He thinks I'm awesome.
There's just something missing.
Like chemistry I ask?
But he can't describe it
He doesn't know what he wants
blah blah blah
He wants to be friends.
I should give him a call....

and then I interrupt him.  Ahh.  I'm going to leave that in your court buddy.  After all you're the one who just said he didn't like me enough lol.  No way am I going to spend more being concerned about whether or not I should call someone.  Though I say this in a somewhat less bitchy fashion.  We chatter on a bit more.  NYE is mentioned.  I say MegaLove is coming up to spend it with me.  I offer no further details.  We end the call.  I send a quick text thanking him for letting me know.  Not because I felt he deserved it.  But if I'm going to be a big proponent of people being honest with each other and ripping the fucking bandaid off, I can't turn around and be all bitter.  I have to keep it going.  Word of mouth advertising.

Rip the bandaid, bitch! 

By the way.  Almost as soon as the call was over.  Suddenly my phone blows up with text messages.  Out of order no less.  But I'm not retarded.  I know how to piece a puzzle together.  And here is.  The bandaid ripping (sort of) puzzle.

Sorry for being so distant.  I'm just not feeling it and don't want waste your time, plus go any further physically.  I should have called but it's not that easy to say, especially when you care for someone.  Then as I delayed it, it became harder and harder to call.  I'm spending the day with DaughtersName, and leaving town later on today.  Take care!


Ouch.  For reference I find the care about someone bit to be fucked up retarded like and the go any further physically to mean that he wasn't attracted to me anymore.  So there ya go.  Fuck Me.  Or not I guess.  Exit stage left.

Rip the Bandaid, Bitch! (Part One)

Maybe I've dissected it a thousand times.  Maybe I barely paid attention when it was happening.  Maybe just too much time has passed.  Maybe the continuous over-analyzation of the details was like metaphorically pulling at the thread of my memory sweater.  I pulled too hard.  I pulled too fast.  And it all fucking fell apart.  My memory that is.  Because I swear to you people.  If it wasn't for text messaging as some sort of tangible record of the events.  I might not be able to tell this story.  Poof!  Like it never even happened.  But lucky (or not so lucky) for us all, I do indeed have the tangible words that bring this tale to a......well just let me tell you.

So TheNickName and I had had our 2nd Date.  I'd been the dirty slut sexy vixen you all know and love me as.  And things were great.  Except.  Well.  Ya know how some chicks dissect every fucking detail?  See I only do that when things are negative.  When things have a positive result.  I skip along.  Tra la la la.  Like everything is draped in cotton candy and sugar coated in icing.  Tra la la la.  Skip.  Skip.  Hop.  Only the thing is.  When I retell these stories to you.  Some of the icing sugar has shaken off.  And I feel a bit retarded if I don't point out the things I know should have been obvious.  Like somehow I need to prove to you guys I'm not totally retarded.  Just naively hopeful.

So the thing is.  Even though after we were finished messing around so to speak.  There was what I would call cuddling.  Not spooning.  Because it was more like face to face.  Well actually more like I was on my stomach and he was beside me on his side.  And we were just kind of curled up kiss kiss wrapped around each other kiss kiss just lying there.  Eyes closed.  Honestly trying not to fall asleep.  And as super pathetic as this is going to sound.  I kind of wanted to keep laying there.  But I could feel it.  Feel something.  Feel him.  Dude wanted to go to sleep.  Now don't get me wrong he didn't do anything douchey or awful.  But I could just tell.  And so I got up to go.  He got up with me.  Talked about our date for the coming Wednesday still being on.  And walked me to the door.

And there.  Right in that moment.  I knew.  Not good.  Not good at all.  Because the thing of the thing is.  He didn't walk me to my car.  And bee tee dub.  It was late.  It was dark.  It was fucking New Westminster.  A more residential than sketchy area but please.  And the thing that allowed me at the time to discount this.  Ignore it.  Move along.  Was the fact that up until this dating foray that is my 2010 experience, I wouldn't have expected a boy to walk me to my car.  Sure on the first date.  But after that.  Not really.  The door and seal it with a kiss?? obviously.  But put your shoes on come out to my car?  Not really.  But the thing is.  I'm not 21 anymore.  And I'm certainly not dating 21 year olds.  These boys are damn near 40 and they know what's up.  They know what being a gentleman means.  And not feeling desireous/compelled to walk me to my car?  a bad sign.  That I ignored.

Sidebar.  The logic behind WHY I ignored all this will come in a wholly separate post (yes it's that lengthy and complex lol) so just bee tee dub.

But it's whatevs.  I had fun.  I'm ignoring the one bad sign in favor of all the good ones.  Carrying on.  Boxing day rolls in.  There is texting.  I'm italics.

4:00pm

Hey :) How's your day going?

Humming along!  And yours?

Great! lots of catching up with friends and then just getting ready for Seattle/McChord AFB tomorrow.

Radio Silence.


6:45pm
You around?

7:29pm
I'm at my buddies for dinner and the game.  Call you later!

Is it just me or are those exclamations getting irritating.  Doesn't he know that there is a big difference between call you later.  call you later?  and call you later!  Stop it.  Girl over-analyzing.  Fuck me.  Stop.

Sounds good.

10:18pm

Hey cutie just a heads up I'm going to bed pretty soon, getting up at 6am tomorrow :)

In my defense.  My cell phone doesn't work while I'm in the states...which is where I was planning to be for about 24 hours.  And he didn't know that.  So while I realize this seems overzealous texting.  I had wanted to talk to him before I went so I could tell him.  Plus in all honesty.  If he liked me it wouldn't seem so overzealous.

Radio Silence.


Dec. 27th.  I wake up with bells on and head down to Seattle.  Which I'll tell you all about.  New friends.  MegaLove.  Etcetera.  But in another post.  This  post is all about TheNickName.  So let's get back to it.  I arrive home from Seattle in the wee morning hours of the 28th.  And when I turn my phone back on.  Obviously expecting it to be blown up with...Hey and then hello? and then further you arounds? and perhaps even are you ignoring me?s.  Only it doesn't.  Silence.  Okay well not total silence.  Texts from friends etc.  But from TheNickName.  Silence.  I mean.  What.  The.  Fuck.  I go to sleep.


Later in the day...I get a text from him (me in italics again).  Fucking weak ass shit.

How is or was Seattle?  I have to bail on tomorrow, I'm going out of town tomorrow after work for the weekend! Sorry!

Fucking exclamation marks!!!!!!!! Sorry!???? It's like he's yelling or something.  Too many exclamation marks especially when they don't belong is like SOMEONE TYPING IN ALL CAPS!!!! WHO ARE YOU YELLING AT?!?!?!

Okay...do you have time to talk?

Pathetic I know.  But in my defense.  This was sort of me trying to decipher if he really was bailing for last minute out town pl....fuck...even as I type it...it sounds too stupid.  Fuck it was just pathetic. We all slip.  Lots.  Don't judge.  People in glass houses and all that.

I'm at a buddies, watching the Canada game.  I will try to call you after its over!

No worries.

At some point it gets late.  I'm going to bed.  Fuck this noise.  All of me understands he's not swooning over me.  Most of me understands he's not dying to spend time with me.  Some of me understands that he probably doesn't even like me enough to continue seeing each other (this behavior being evidence).  But none of me can grasp how someone I took it slow...but not too slow...with...and have cute conversations with...can go from...good to go and super cute and totally into me....to...total blow off.  Now to be clear.  I understand it happens.  I get it in theory that sometimes people just don't like either people.  But at this exact moment in my defense (I've had to say that a lot this post....damn...exclamation point!)...I couldn't quite make the logic fit...the illogicality of people and emotions and behaviors and whatever the fuck was going on with this dude.  So I made one last pathetic attempt.  Because the truth is.  Me and him.  We were better on the phone.  Just Sayin'

Really hope you get a chance to call before you leave town cause I'm feeling pretty weird about you cancelling again and we seem to be better on the phone.


To Be Continued....


PSizzle...while I wholeheartedly encourage comments and have been ATTEMPTING to be more speedy at responding to them...may I suggest you all wait for the next post to comment...since afterall this obviously happened a bit ago and there's obviously a part two to this escapade that will likely/perhaps answer any questions.

Dear Boys, What Are You Wearing?

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Dear Boys, What Are You Wearing?

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A Christmas Miracle: TheNickName Gets A 2nd Date

So it was Christmas Eve.  I was all snuggled in bed.  And TheNickName called.  And I can't lie.  It was good to hear his voice again.  It started with just the usual chatter.  How has work been?  Good but busy obviously.  He asked about my exams.  I told him about Shakespeare.  How it had gone so amazingly well.  How I had wanted to call and tell him about it.  Since in this bizarre turn of events.  He knew all about my schoolwork.  Mainly because I generally think people will find it so boring I don't really talk to my friends about it.  Sure I tell them hey guess what...did really well...blah blah blah.  But I don't talk about my papers.  Tell them what I'm arguing.  How I'm going to do it.  The response.  The whole shabang.  But because I had been talking to him so much during paper writing/exams.  He knew all that stuff.  So truth be told when I aced Shakespeare...and the whole term in general really.  It was him I wanted to call.  [Sidenote: I would need to correct this behavior].

And that's when he told me.  That obviously we were cool with each other.  An awesome chick.  We're grownups.  And all that.  That if I wanted to talk to him.  I should just call.  Not to worry about all the other bullshit.  Okay I said.  Sounds good.  Plus.  He said.  It's not like he was the only busy one.  It was me too.  Busy with school.  And he didn't want to be harassing me to hang out either.  And honestly.  After that I can't really remember what else we talked about.  Mostly it was just nice connecting again.  I do know that neither of us was super keen on waiting the 5 days till our Wednesday dinner date plan.  And so we decided.  To have a coffee.  Or go for a walk.  Something.  Anything.  To hang out the next day.  Christmas Day.  In between his family breakfast and dinner.  Till tomorrow we said.  Night.


Christmas day came.  But plans got a little busy.  Shocking I know.  Though this time it was definitely me getting busier.  Because originally I had planned for a blissfully alone Christmas Day Dinnertime too.  Only I ended up spending it with an AWESOME group of people (playing it fast and loose, wild and free, Princess Amazing forever!).  So suddenly our free time became a little more cramped.  No big deal though.  Instead of afternoon coffee/walk we would do an after Christmas Dinner movie.

Dinner was amazing.  Yahtzee was brilliant.  And then it was time for me to depart.  But not before my brother enlightened everyone that I had DOUBLE BOOKED them.  LOL.  Hey!  A girl's only got so much time off for Xmas break eh?!?!

So I headed over to TheNickName's place.  Which I won't lie.  Wasn't as impressive as I had hoped in my imagination.  But in all honesty.  You never really know.  Trucker Joe had a brand new condo (and I'm certain a shitload of debt).  TheNickName lived in a 2 bedroom basemant suite.  Plus.  Ya know.  Who am I to judge.  People in glass houses and all of that.  But still.  I expected.  Er.  Um.  More.

But I digress.  Nothing ever happens that effortlessly with me.  The Queen of Awkward.  The Princess of Oops and Sloppy.  The Bear of Vancouver if you will.  So he said go through the gate.  Off the alley.  To the door at the back.  Now I'm not totally retarded.  But here's the thing of the thing.  I'm nervous.  This is only our second fucking date.  I've never been to his place before.  And I ask you.  If someone told you the door around back.  And you saw a door.  Around the back.  Would you check for more than one?  Of course not.  How many fucking doors can one house have?!?!?!  Apparently at least 3.  But in my defense.  There was also a blinding spotlight.  And the door was FUCKING OPEN!

So there I am.  Walking up the garden path.  Straight for the open door.  That's around back.  And as I get to the top of the 3 stairs.  Hello?  A dude appears.  But not my dude.  And even better than this fucking awkward moment.  I cannot for the life of me remember TheNickName's name.  So I stand there.  Making some kind of um..uh...is this...um...uh...is he...um...uh noise.  Until the dude saves me and says are you looking for TheNickName?  I stammer.  Yes.  Down and around he says.  And there's TheNickName.  Standing there.  Having seen the whole thing.  At the OTHER fucking door in the back.  Stupid.  Fucking.  Tons-of-doors!

So I head inside.  We hug.  He shows me around the place.  At some point he sneaks in.  Snags a quick kiss. Nothing big.  Just a peck.  Just had to get that out of the way.  Not the smoothest I'll admit.  But I like that he'd been thinking about it.  So good to go.  We decide to watch a movie.  In retrospect not the best choice.  At some point he says something about a song or music playing.  Like sounds like The Talking Heads?  And I'm like.  Uh...yeah I don't really know they're music.  I start to wonder if perhaps it's not as cool for him being "the old guy" as it is for me being "the hot young thing".  The movie was SLOW at best.  But alas I spent the time snuggled up to the nook so it was all good.  Finally the movie ended.  He went to the bathroom.  And I got to pick the show.  Big Bang Theory it is.  Conveniently they were doing a marathon.  Turns out he likes the show.  Nice.  But before long.  It doesn't matter.

Because we're kissing.  Making out like teenagers on a couch.  And like with Trucker Joe.  It's not the most amazing kissing ever.  But it's the fact that he adapts.  Whether consciously or not.  He adapts.  And so with every kiss.  The kissing is better.  And before long I'm facing him on the couch.  Breasts pressed against his chest.  At some point we get up and head to the bedroom.  He knows he's not getting laid.  But ya know.  There might be some dry humping.  I'm holding tight to my stages.  So tightly in fact that I PURPOSELY wore..well...NOT the red lacies...AND didn't shave my legs.  What can I say.  I'm like a teenage boy.  When I'm tempted with something I want.  I forget all the reasons it's not a good idea and just go for it.  So I have to have a safety net.  Or two.  To keep me inline.  Just Sayin'

Were on his bed barely a heartbeat before my shirt flies off.  For reference.  By him.  lol.  I was trying to be a lady so I could've well kept it on but whatever.  We makeout for quite awhile.  And it's excellent.  You forget how awesome it can be making out with someone new.  *sigh*.  Newness makes me happy.  Anyways  So I'm not going to give you a blow by blow (not ironic!...please I'm a lady!) of what happened.  But instead I'll simply say that I kept myself a lady.  My concert admitted no patrons.  Not through any gate.  However.  As all boys do.  He showed me what he was working with.  Unfortunately it would do him well to listen to a little Lil' Kim.

"Smack my ass, grab my hair, 

got 'em cummin' everywhere

I'ma freak, so I don't care, 

just don't get none in my hair"

'Twas The Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through house

Not a "something" was likely, def not a spouse

The sexting had happened because of the wall

In the hopes that a "something" would show me a ball

SSDated was nestled all snug in her bed

While visions of throwdown danced in her head

TheNickName had been, so busy and sick

ThePhD though smart, seemed a bit of a dick

When over the phone arose such a good clatter

TheNickName, his cancelling appeared not to matter

Away to the window I flew like a flash

Closing the shutters and tying the sash

When what to my wondering ears should appear

But a boy indicating things should be clear

I should not worry, grown ups after all

If I wanted to talk, all I had to do was call

He thought I was awesome, so lively and quick

I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick(Name)

More rapid than eagles the talking it came

And he whistled, and panted, and called me by name

"Now, Sexy!, now Baby! just like that and more!

On, hottie! on awesome! my dirty little whore! 

Because of the window!  Because of the wall!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all" (hopes of dating me)

So onto the blog, my stories they grew

With an Xmas full of boys, and St. Nick(Name) too

And then, in a twinkling, I heard in his voice

What I thought was excitement but perhaps another choice?

As I hung up the phone and was turning around

Down the chimney, a new "something" came with a bound

He was dressed in nice clothes so far I could tell

And like an advert for axe, so good did he smell

A bundle of gifts he had flung on his back (so I didn't judge)

That he looked like a peddler just opening his pack

His smile-- how it beamed!  his humor how funny!

His muscles were bulging, his demeanor how sunny!

His stance it was good, so confident and sure

And no beard on his face, his skin baby pure

He wasn't a smoker, you could tell by his teeth

Exactly the man, I'd want to be underneath
He had a broad face and not a hint of a belly

Which made mine more special, shaking like jelly

I was chubby and plump, he had ears like an elf

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head

Had me ready and willing to jump into bed

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work

Took care of his baby; then turned with a jerk

And laying his finger aside of his nose

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose

He sprang to his truck and revved it up loud

Driving away like a kid with an A+, so proud

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight

"Damn that chick's hot, and man-alive is she bright."

TheNickName: Persistence Will Get You Everywhere

So just a quick recap.  There were phone calls.  A first date came and went with success.  Then the date's were on then off.  Then on then off.  Then there was a window that closed. A wall that went up.  And yet somehow I was still feeling a chemical (fabricated I would guess almost entirely by my mind and desire to eventually get laid by someone not a stranger) attraction to TheNickName.  And one would assume he did not feel the same.  But there he was.  Just under a week later.  On the day I finished my exams.  Popping right back up.

The day my exams ended.  TheNickName remembered.  

And texted Yay, school is over for two weeks.  

Howd Shakespeare go?  Enjoy your time off!!!

Amazing I said Hit it outta the park.  How are things with you?

And so he replied That's awesome for you! Atta girl!  

Things are good, just stupid busy during this time 
of the year with work and Xmas functions.  
Talk soon!

I didn't respond further.  Didn't think I needed to.  Not sure if I wanted to.  But the next day.  There he was again.  With minimal effort of course.  But making enough of an effort to stand outside the wall but close enough to touch it, if you will.  Which may have been the reason the conversation happened as it did.  

Did you xmas shop after you finished all of yours exams etc.? he asked.  But I was busy.  I was at a party which unfortunately didn't live up to the hype I had hoped.  And then I was having drinks with ladies and chatting all night long.  No time to stop to text a boy back.  Plus of course even if I did have time.  It would be to text ThePhD back (as he had been texting cute things in anticipation of our date the next day).

The next morning I woke up.  lol who am I kidding.  I was on Christmas break.  The next afternoon I woke up.  And thought sure.  Why not.  So I responded to the previous night's text.  Something about having done absolutely no shopping yet and was he all ready for Christmas.


A friend is coming over tonight to wrap all of my presents and then yah I'm done! he quickly responded.  Fun I said wrapping presents is my favorite thing to do! And that's when it happened.  Somewhere between attraction + opportunity - window + wall = me getting flirty (so unlike me).  Well maybe my second favorite thing.


What's your favorite? he asks.  And it's sort of off to the races from there.  He tells me he's had lots of thoughts about my lady bits (don't worry my words not his).  I wonder if it'll happen with us.  A second date not a future.  I hope so he says Your sched. was crazy busy and mine got there when we got closer to xmas.  Next week is pretty wide open...Wanna get together on the 29th?  Dinner at my place?


Sure I text.  Sounds good.  And then he's home from work.  And the conversation really turns to.  Well.  Inappropriate for all your innocent eyes and naive ears.  The thing is though.  I've yet to find someone who did it as well as Intelligence Officer.  I mean honestly.  I don't know if it was just the right time right place of our little scenario.  Or what.  But everything he said was perfect.  He ebbed and I flowed.  He flowed and I ebbed.  He didn't rush the convo.  It was dirty.  It was explicit.  It was exactly what I wanted.

But TheNickName.  It was.  Er.  Um.  Okay.  It was rushed.  It was not the things I wanted.  I mean it wasn't like things I didn't want or anything.  But it lacked a certain.  Throw down.  A certain take charge.  There was no verbal hair pulling to say the least.  But I played along.  Because I was horny.  And happy (with life not with him) and frankly it was my Xmas break and why the fuck not.  Until of course he asked the question all boys ask.  Stupid boys.  You gotta send me a sexy pic that I can use tonight.  It's not the using my pic that makes him stupid.  That actually makes him awesome.  Yes indeed.  Go ahead and feed my ego.  But asking a chick you barely know to send you a dirty pic in this day and age of nothing can be erased and everything comes out?  Don't be retarded.  Obviously I responded more in a more demure and breezy fashion.  But nonetheless with a not gonna happen.

His response.  I will look at your pics on POF :)  No problem with that I think, in fact I encourage it.  Have at 'er.  And that's when I tell him I have to go.  I have to get ready for tonight.  Which ironically is my first date with ThePhD.  His final message I want you !!  Have fun tonight!! 


The next day....

I thought about you lots today and our text messages from yesterday! oh I bet you did, Indeed I bet he did.

It was Christmas Eve Day.  And it was more of the same.  Texting from TheNickName.  Asking about my day.  My plans for Christmas Eve.  Which if you follow me on Twitter should know were going to be blissful and independent.  With my parents out of the country this year.  And spending Christmas Day with my brother, his girlfriend and her family.  I was free to spend Christmas Eve blissfully, relaxingly, amazingly alone and doing my own thing.  Which as I told TheNickName when he asked was going to be full of dancing, decorating, xmas movies and yummy thai food.

That sounds fun he texted I wish I was sitting on your coach watching you!  I assured him that wouldn't be a good idea as I would get nothing done.  The chatter continued.  At some point we talked about kissing.  Something we had yet to actually do.  (man this was fucked up).  He insinuated he was a good kisser.  Some joke about having a plaque.  I said I wasn't sure if I was a good kisser.  So far all my reviews had been good if not raves.  But still.  As a person who writes and yet won't call herself a writer.  I'm hesitant to claim skills that are relative.  Like kissing.  He assured me he was happy to be the judge.

The conversation took a sexy turn again.  Back and forth we went.  And then suddenly.  Radio Silence.  Which was followed 2.5 hours later with Sorry, I was watching a xmas movie.  How was dancing and decorating?  want to talk on the phone?

It was late but honestly I did want to talk to him on the phone.  Since the very beginning.  The phone had been his strong suit.  And honestly I kind of wanted to regain that image of him.  Because as of late.  He'd been a bit of a douche.

To Be Continued...