Friday, July 27, 2007
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
*keys up tinny violin music*
The cover splash had pictures of NotANoseJob, NotADyeJob and NotABoobJob (you decide who belongs with which), and declared for all and sundry that if the rich and famous can't find love than what hope is there for the rest of us. Thanks US Weekly for making the other 90% of the population take a flying leap of the nearest relationship cliff.
I refuse to sympathize with movie stars who can't find love. I'm having a hard enough time finding sympathy for my own poorly managed love life, thank you very much. However, for the sake of being fair (though lord knows that article was already slanted), I paged through the piece to see exactly why the rich, overwhelmed by paparazzi should even deign to get any pity from me because their love life matches my own.
And discovering that like most rich and famous they want to be catered to. There is even a psychiatrist to analyze this behavior. I'm sorry, but having a shrink declare in so many words that a movie star is high maintenance doesn't win them any brownie points in my book. Saying that they're unlucky in love because no man is willing to step up to the plate just further vilifies the men in Hollywood (grow some balls guys).
I've written posts on men not understanding women because they're not sure where their societal role is anymore, or women who overcompensate for the men in their relationship because the typical masculine role isn't being played out in its stereotyped fashion. And at this point I feel like throwing in the towel.
To be honest, the movie stars won't get any sympathy from me because they represent the ideal in this very shallow society we live in. They're beautiful, they have money and they're available. So what's stopping them from being in a relationship? A combo of themselves and the people they want to be with. They're the ideal, but they don't want to believe that someone can want them for just themselves, likewise for the guy approaching them, he doesn't believe he can live up to their standards. For someone like yours truly, who is your average American female I really don't need to see that even being super beautiful, having money and power of your own to boot will exclude you from getting a date, keeping a boyfriend, let alone getting married.
I'd like to believe that I've still got a chance...of course I also believe that its okay to wear white shoes after Labor Day.
I've said it before and I'll say it again. When are we going to stop jockeying for the top dog position and just be a man and a woman trying to fit together in a relationship? Besides if we leave it to the movie stars to show us the way, we'll never get a date, a shag, a marriage or a kid (if you're so inclined), without needing someone else to reassure us that we're fine as we are and we can do bad together or by ourselves.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
This guy had promise. We hit it off on the phone/text/email and I didn't wait too long before wanting to meet him in person.
We're both lacking in funds, so I suggested a walk around my favorite museum, the Hirshhorn. He agreed enthusiastically and I had hope.
To me, museum walking is one of my ways to test the water. If the guy I'm with isn't interested in museum stuff, he's dead to me.
The following is a pretty detailed account of our afternoon in DC:
1pm- I arrive at the metro station, where we are supposed to meet. I receive a text message from the guy saying he was running 20 minutes late. I text him back saying I'll meet him in a building because it's ass hot. He replies "ok, meet me at the crypt." This automatically sends mini terror spasms down my back and I should have just left then. Instead, I made him clarify and discovered he meant the Smithsonian castle.
120pm- I am sitting inside the castle after walking around the mini exhibits inside. He's still not there and I still hadn't heard from him.
1:29pm- get a text from him saying he's still running late, so I decide to call my friend, NotMetal and talk to her for awhile. She cheers me up and we talk about scrambled eggs and Chuck Klosterman.
1:40pm-He finally shows up. Walks up to me outside the castle wearing cheapy reflector sunglasses, a beat up sports team t-shirt, khaki shorts, and sneakers. He looks nothing like I thought he would. (Which is my fault, I know I know)
1:41-1:43pm- En route to the Hirshhorn, he proceeds to point out the fact that I'm dressed all wrong for museum walking, judging by the flip flops, jeans, and black shirt I am wearing. This does not stop him from peering down my low cut shirt nor complaining about it being so hot outside.
1:44-2:something- We get to the Hirshhorn. He insists on walking through the same little section of the spinning door as I do, prompting the security guard to chastize him by saying, "Now, I wouldn't want to leave her side either, but it's one at a time" and prompting him in turn to not his head and guffaw like a redneck. We then go downstairs, where I know the cool tv exhibit is. We entered Black Box and proceeded to watch the carefully crafted videos. It's pretty awesome, especially the video with the Yeti. I look over at one point and he goes "wow, we need to take some E and come back to watch this." I kind of laugh and he goes "no, seriously, i should go find some." I shake my head and ignore him. After the first video, the people sitting to my left get up and move and in the dark, I see an older lady come in, so I offer to move over so she can find a seat closer to the door. I get up and move and try to tell the guy that we should move and he just looks at me, then gives a dirty look to the old lady and finally moves to where I am. Yeah, a dirty look. I sigh and leave the room.
The rest of the Hirshhorn visit was filled with lewd comments about boobs and other genetalia, including him asking me if seeing an artful photograph of a man's penis "turned me on."
2:30ish-the bane of my existence- At this point I tried to make excuses to leave, but he told me that I needed to just go with him to the Native American Museum to check out the guns.
I.love.guns. So I figured I could tune him out long enough to see me some guns, then leave.
Little did I know that he was saving some "big guns" of his own to show me at the museum. He really impressed me with the way he shoved people with kids out of the way to get on the elevator first and how he took his paper fan and quite rudely shoved air in my face while at the same time leering down my shirt again, oh and don't forget my favorite part when I was taking pictures of the coolest exhibit there (i HATE the native american museum, it sucks. I'm not talking content-wise, some of the artwork is amazing, but the design of the museum is awful and they sure as hell didn't have much to show for years and years of history), the Day of the Dead stuff, when a tour guide and her company came up and the lady started talking loudly through a headset/microphone. This set my date off and he started complaining loudly about how rude it was that the lady was being so loud. He sounded like a little kid!!!
After this I practically ran to the metro. Along the way we passed a guy selling water for $1, of which guyiwaswith gulped down as though I wasn't even there, then we passed two guys calmly passing out information about their religion, which pissed guyface off so much he started yelling at them. We got on the metro and I was silent the entire time. We got to his stop, I half waved, and he got off.
Leaving all of his garbage on the seat next to me.
I haven't talked to him since and I've actually decided I'm pretty happy being single right now. It may be a few more weeks before I get back on the horse, well, at least until I take a guy to a museum anyway...
Oh, but wait. I hate summer, don't I? I hate to be hot and living in Virginia sort of is a promise of being hot from May until the end of September. I haven't even been to the beach yet this summer season so I am not apt to wish for more heat, I just want it to be fall already! I don't feel like summer is prime time for me to find some lovin'. Summer sucks unless one is on vacation, in my opinion. Otherwise, it just makes the everyday more uncomfortable. How am I supposed to look hott when it's too humid to straighten my hair and my eyeliner melts off my face? Cold weather months are much better for finding love, in my opinion. I think Mr. JT needs to write the song, "Winter Love," an instant hit with NotCarrie!
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Tryst was way less crowded than the last time I remember, but it worked out well for getting drinks and checking out the crowd. Sometime in the night we decided that we wanted to have some “Missed Connections” and from then on kept our eyes peeled for worthy recipients while at the same time positioning ourselves to be missed as well.
Checking online the next day quickly revealed that we had not had any missed connections, unfortunately. Having celebrated the birthday boy’s day was much more important, but it would have been hysterical to see a message on Craigslist like, “Hott guy with four women. You single and/or a pimp?”
I usually forget to go to Craigslist, to be honest. I think it is because I know I will get addicted. I have posted one missed connection in the past for someone who comes to the second job frequently, but that’s the extent of my MC experience.
When I do think to go there and browse the missed connections, I find them to be a bit overwhelming so I have thought of a few things to keep in mind when writing your next one:
+The location MUST be on there. When I scan, I scan for where I have been, of course.
+Put your age. No one wants to reply to a skeevy 80 year old pervert. (Unless you’re an 80 year old pervert-lover.)
+Make the subject line very clear and eye catching. Either put the place or a defining physical feature of mine in there. Otherwise, my eyes will skim over it while reading.
+Don’t try to be too cute in the body of the message. If you sound weird, no one will respond.
+Do not sound like you stalked me and now know my bra size, third grade teacher’s name, and apartment number. Creepy!
Has anyone had a successful missed connection??
And by the way, this is our 666th post.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
For example, this Monday, they were discussing marrying and breaking up and age. One of the morning sidekicks (I dub him), NotMetrosexual was saying how he had gone to a wedding during his vacation the past week with his girlfriend. It was her best friend (the groom) who was getting married. She lives in the area of the wedding (not in DC) and is on a contract that will be ending soon, and she mentioned that she would need to find a new contract, so that she’s not out of work. The conversation progressed to the point where NotMetrosexual asked his girlfriend to come and move in with him. It then moved even further with them both agreeing that they might be the one for each other. The next logical step would be happy hearts and shiny faces all around, right…wrong. At the end of the day this couple was no more. The reason, they thought they were too young and hadn’t sown enough wild oats.
They were too young and hadn’t sown enough wild oats.
Is it just me or does this sound a little defeatist. Talk about ending the relationship before it even starts. Because of what they thought would happen they decide to let it go completely.
The radio show continued with people calling in to give their opinions on the issue. One woman hit it on the head for me. “You have to work at it.”
I arrived at work and turned off the car along with the show and couldn’t help but think that ‘youth is wasted on the young.’ Just the idea of finding that person who may be for me right now gives me hope. But to listen to NotMetrosexual and his girlfriend piss it away because they haven’t banged enough partners is pretty sad.
The very idea that NotMetrosexual and his girlfriend didn’t think they could work through it l makes me equally angry and sad. Angry, because of the absolutely laziness of NotMetrosexual and his girlfriend and sad because this is what I feel a society of instant gratification has spawned.
No one wants to work at relationships anymore. If things don’t work out, it’s easier to just move on. I’m seeing it more and more in everyday things as well. Don’t like your job, no problem, you can find a new one tomorrow. Angry with your friends, don’t try and fix the problem just ignore it and them and it will all go away. Don’t want to parent your children, that’s easy just turn the tv on and instant babysitter.
While some of my examples are extreme, they have some merit. Those of the baby boomer generation (and earlier) worked through their issues (or at lease appeared to), they took responsibility for the mistakes they made and didn’t blame one another. Why aren’t we working through things? Why aren’t we taking responsibility for ourselves? Why is youth wasted on the young?
I don’t have many answers, but I know that if we don’t stop sowing our oats and keep the wheat on the chaff we will soon be a field of unfulfilled dreams.*
*how do you like that metaphor?
Sunday, July 08, 2007
Yep, that's right, your eyes did not deceive you. I helped someone celebrate their 21st birthday. Since its been seven years since my own, this was quite nostalgic for me. I dressed to semi-impress and with keys, cash and attitude in hand I headed out for NotBilliards.
And was completely thrown for a loop at the couplehood that was there.
NotASong and NotABarber
NotBeauty and NotBruceLee
NotANympho and NotMoney
and so on and so on and so on.
In short. I was the odd woman out, without a date that is. And before I let myself descend into my own one woman pity party, I considered the options.
1) Make my excuses and go home early.
2) Hit on someone's date (such a bad bday party faux pas)
3) Hit on some of the innocent bystanders
4) Drink enough to numb myself to the fact that I was at another party without my 'part' leaving me with 'y'.
5) Make the best of the situation by reveling with friends and the vowing to find someone to go to the next shindig where large groups would be in attendance.
My choice was a combo of 4 and 5. I got a pleasant buzz on and thought about what I would need to do to remedy my current dateless situation. Which is quite interesting as I don't like to go out much to any of the places where I could do a meet and greet with members of the opposite sex. I've decided to take a new method for jumping back into the dating pool. I'm going to hit up my already paired off friends for possible dating material amongst their single male friends.
*crosses fingers and prays she doesn't regret this later*
Thursday, July 05, 2007
So, starting fresh.
Do I have a crush on anybody?
Ummm, yes and no. I definitely had a Friend Crush on NotGraceful when we first starting talking past formalities and found we had things in common and got along well. (If we're talking timelines, this would have been around the winter holidays when he started hanging out with our group more.) Do I flirt with him? Yes. Is my flirting with him different than my flirting with any of my other guys friends? No. Do I sit around and draw hearts around his pictures and wonder how his last name will fit with mine? No. Do I want him to want me? Of course I do. I want everyone to want me.
Who is the last person I kissed?
NotGraceful. Is it something I planned on? No. Do I hope it happens again? Yes, but like I said, I'm not sitting around thinking about him and hoping he calls and wondering if he wants my sass. I think we all know I went through quite the kissing drought so when there's the opportunity for 'rain', a girls gotta go for it. Especially when drunk. Bitch, please. When I say I want it to happen again, I just mean the kiss, he's just been in the right place at the right time recently. Whether or not he continues to be the last person I kissed remains to be told, but he is my friend, first and foremost, and that's not something I'm looking to change. My want/need to makeout is separate from my friendship with him. I do not have tunnel vision when it comes to kissing.
Like when I'm at the gym.
Five walls of television. Each with a 60 inch lcd tv, and on four of the five, some squalling celeb posturing for the cameras or some reality show making stars out of the next 'real' person.
This is what we call entertainment? Pardon me while I go run my head through the exercise bike.