Vegas of the South

My flight had already been delayed five hours when they decided to board us. I was all ready to go, laying my head on the wall by my window seat when I heard the man three rows behind me yell "I'm SIX FOOT SEVEN, there's NO ONE IN THE EXIT ROW. YOU'RE TELLING me I HAVE TO PAY AN EXTRA SIXTY_FIVE DOLLARS TO SIT WHERE MY FEET AREN'T SQUISHED LIKE A FUCKING RAT IN A CAGE?!?"
I sighed and tried to read up on Reese and Jakey. Fifteen minutes after we had all finished boarding, the captain got on the intercom and announced that yes, we had boarded the plane, but unfortunately, we were not taking off for at least another hour. Giant-man sighed extra loudly and we all kind of jostled around in our seats, drinking "free" water and watching Nim's Island. After two more hours of sitting on the plane, we de-boarded, back through one of the gates at the Orlando International Airport, to wait for new, "fresh" flight attendants to fly in from DC and come back with us to our home.
We had about an hour to go, left to fend for ourselves in a near-empty airport, considering it was nearing midnight. I spent my time eating ritz crackers and huddling by a plug, letting my blackberry charge while I complained to my friends and family about how shitty this situation was.
We finally boarded the plane again and somehow this man had not only found two more men, but he had also found himself a lovely seat, in the exit row... right in front of my seat.
Now this wouldn't bother me in normal circumstances, I mean hey I've gotten a free upgrade plenty of times, but I digress.
What bothered me was that he and his dos amigos were drunk. And I'm not talking "woohoo tipsy," I'm talking "OK we're off the plane, let's down as much booze as possible."
These men were in their mid-40s and as I sat there, watching them knock heads and not so subtly hitting on the flight attendants, I started to feel bad for them.
Drunk men have no sense of right or wrong, they simply say what they feel and do what they want, damned if anyone tries to stop them. I looked at them and thought of the many guys I've hung out with when they were in that state of inebriation. And how stupid they were. And how awesome I thought that was. These men sitting in front of me, pouring their drinks all over their chair, the floor, my outstretched legs, these men are the guys I used to hang out with, all "grown up" and I was embarrassed for them! They stood, in turn, and tried to head for the bathroom, instead knocking into the rows next to them, behind them, in front of them, all at once grabbing their temples and poor peoples' armrests, trying to make the floor stop moving.
It was sad and amusing all at the same time.
Amusing because, twenty minutes before landing, they had finally finished their venti cups of rum and pepsi and everything started to hit. They couldn't keep their heads upright, one of them kept muttering "where the fuck is Tyson's?" and they had just finished the "i love you, man!" stage, therefore resulting in their unwillingness to make eye contact with each other.
It was lovely.

I hope they all made it home safely, I didn't want anything bad to happen to them, it just made me reflect on the amount of times I had been around people like that. It made me realize that I, for one, was done hanging out with guys like that.

Just Don't Call It Spooning

It's amazing how quickly a person can get used to sleeping in the same bed as someone else. And by "get used to" I mean "want it all the time".

A Lemming? Who me?

Once again, I've decided to try out online dating services (is it really a service if you don't work with someone?), in order to get a date. Given that I've signed up for OKCupid, Match.com (again) and AdultFriendFinder (again) and haven't heard a peep is sort of discouraging.

OKCupid is the latest and greatest and while I've gotten little to no response to my profile I have been stalked a few times (which is equal parts encouraging and disturbing), I've yet to have someone actually send me a note (or comment, or whatever the hell you get). I'm not going to question my profile, survey or pictures that I have posted, but I'm starting to wonder about my age group and dating. What I mean is:

Have we gotten lazy about the prospect of finding a date?

For example, I've heard of people finding "the One" when they've finally decided to stop looking. Could that be what's happened? Did I miss the boat on the whole movement to officially 'not look' for my person? Not to say that I've been hitting the dating pool every chance I get, but should I even try? In the most lemming of thoughts, because no one else is doing it sounds like a good out right now.

Renovating

Please excuse our mess. The person who designed our blog four years ago didn't get proper permission from the artist to use the lovely images you're used to seeing a the top. We'll be a bit naked but promise to come back with a new and exciting (*cough*) legal design!

Ohhh REALLY?

So I last left you guys with the story of NotGreeny telling me how he'd stop smoking for me. This was back in January, where I think my need for cuddly heat was in higher demand than my need to have a respectable sense of mind, so I believed him. We hung out a few more times and when he asked me to hang out with him on Valentine's Day, I hesitantly said yes. Hesitantly because in my mind, V-Day is kind of a big deal, seeing as how most American's find that the perfect day to give chocolates, cards, and sex.
No, we had not had sex. Nor did I want to have sex with him. I mean, if the kissing was that bad... I think you know where I'm going with this.
Anyway, he asked me to come over around 8 and I had also been invited to an Indie Singles Party at my friend NotMexican's house, which I was going to attend with my best boo NotRVA, so I had a good excuse to leave early, if the situation got to that point.
I arrive at his house promptly at 8, only to find myself calling his cell phone, which seemed to be disconnected. I had never been to his house before, so I had no idea if I was at the right house when all of a sudden he shows up at his front door, on his phone. Weird.
So we go inside and I give him a hug (he did give good hugs, definite bonus) and then we head downstairs to his basement/den/tv room setup.
I'm telling you, if I could have been in a relationship with his den, I would be a happy, happy woman. It was done cabin-style, with wood paneling that made me feel like I was in Denver, not some 70s movie. He had a projection screen set up with a comfy couch and to the right was a raised platform with a huge hot tub filled with pillows.
I was so distracted by the awesomeness that was my future den-bf that I didn't notice the array of goodies that NotGreeny had gotten me. Sitting on a little side table, in careful array, were the following items:
- 1 bouquet of multi colored tulips
- 1 magazine, featuring robots
- 1 gigantic box of chocolates
- 1 mini pack of homemade sushi
My heart sort of melted and I awkwardly said thank you and I sat on the edge of his couch while he set up a movie. He decided we'd watch "Blow," which I had never seen before. No more than 10 minutes into the movie, he decides to attack my face, full force. I kind of go with it for a few minutes, but as soon as he starts kneading one of my breasts like pizza dough, I tell him that I really want to watch the movie.
This happens two more times before I realize, oh hey yeah I need to go.
I grab the flowers and chocolate and bolt. I'm halfway to NotRVA when I get a text "hey you forgot your magazine and flowers, lolz." I ignore it and have a halfway decent time waxing poetic with people in a room holding too many pairs of leggings and just about the same number of neck scarves.
What happens next is when I start to get worried. A few days later I see that his Facebook page has a bit of activity. As in, he has changed his status to "In A Relationship." Surely, he's found someone else? I confront him about this and he goes "Yeah, well you know I wanted you to know that I wasn't interested in anyone else, that I just want to be with you."
I was at a loss for words. So I didn't respond right away. He continues, "So yeah you want me to "add" you?" I told him absolutely not and, in fact, I thought we were better suited as friends. This did not go over well and he proceeded to "ignore" me for the next week and instead show his emotions through Myspace bulletin posts and FB status changes.
Oh, for the love of technologically advanced Millenials.
A few weeks go by and we text a little bit here and there.
April came around and, since he's a graphic designer, I asked him if he would like to design the opening production credit for our budding movie company. He was more than stoked and so was I. I had seen some of his stuff and knew that he could handle what I had in mind.
Until he started talking payment. Keep in mind that the last time I had seen him was VALENTINE'S DAY.
"So when I'm finished, I'll take you out to dinner and then we can hang out at my place and watch movies. Then we'll go up to Great Falls and hang out and it'll be wonderful."
I then realized that the friendship thing probably wasn't going to work out. I was going to have to weigh anchor and let this poor boy sail on without any of NotCharlotte's "good graces" to help him along.
I didn't know what to do in order to get him off my back, so I consulted one of my best guy friends, NotItaliano. He suggested that I tell him I've met someone else. There's no denying the fact that telling NotGreeny I had started dating someone else would show him that I was no longer interested in him.
I decided to tell him this over IM. Our conversation went like this:
Me: NotGreeny, I have to tell you that I've met someone else.
Him: What?
Me: I'm sorry, but I told you awhile ago that we were just going to be friends and I can't have you thinking that we're something more.
Him: I can't handle this right now, I'm going to GameStop.

And that, my friends, is how my fauxlationship went with NotGreeny.

Gold digger

When the girl at my leasing office handed me the unmarked package, I giggled a little. I then slid the package under my arm and trotted off to play naughty Santa and deliver part of the contents to NotCarrie and NotSamantha.

Maybe giggling isn't the response a sophisticated woman would have. She might take the box upstairs and add its content to her growing collection. She would probably send a proper email to her girls letting them know the contents had arrived. I am not a sophisticated woman. I am girl who has never* owned a sex toy and thought the arrival of said toys was hilarious. I am not a one-at-a-time emotion kind of girl and was feeling nervous/excited/curious/adventurous. So, like any nervous/excited/curious/adventurous girl with a hilarious box in her hand, I needed share the moment with my compadres.

When I finally made it back home a few hours later, I took Gold Digger out of the package and set it on my coffee table. I'm pretty sure I cocked my head to the side as I eyed this smooth six-inch faux wang with a few gold studs at the base.

It has been a while since I have gotten some action, and I have found that on the nights when I get more sleep and can remember my dreams they have typically been about my obtaining said action from various guys. Despite my subconscious telling me I clearly had needs to fulfill, I approached my faux wang from a bit like a researcher approaches a stem cell.

Switching vibe speed appeared easy enough, since it just required slight movement of the base. Was I ready to test drive it? Hell, was I even in the mood after being so empirical? I will readily admit that the six inches scared me a bit. I probably made every guy's day who has an average weenie. The thing is, I learned that I don't need it supersized after my first visit to the gyno where they had to bust out the small contraption.

What did I learn from Gold Digger?

(1) Had my high school boyfriend and I actually had sex his nine-inch penis would have probably killed me;

(2) When used at high speed, all I could think about was whether my neighbors thought I bought a motorboat; and

(3) Maybe it should have been called the Silver Digger.

*The vibrating duck NotSamantha got me for my 29th birthday doesn't count. It's a duck!

O!

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Let's not and say we did?

Shortly after NotHarry and I stopped talking to each other, I started dating one of his friends, NotGreeny. He was younger than me (21 to my 24), an art student/graphic designer, and came from a rich family.
Who was I to argue when he asked me out?
Ignoring my friends' newfound nickname of "Cougar," I went to a diner with him, where we proceeded to have a pretty good time, laughing about mutual movie interests and music. He told me I was saved in his phone as the character I dressed as for Halloween and I thought it was endearing. He gave good hugs, opened doors for me, even let me order my food first. In all, it wasn't a bad date.
We made plans for a second meeting, this time he came over to my house, since I was having one of my traditional Wine & Board Game Nights. He arrived earlier than the other guests and we sat on my couch watching Freaks & Geeks and behaving like high schoolers. He did the whole "scoot an inch closer every time I coughed" move, then slowly grabbed for my hand. It felt cute and innocent. Then he finally went in for the kill.
He attacked my face like a seal does fish. He pretty much wrapped his entire mouth around mine, bordering on sealing my nostrils in his gaping maw, darting his tongue in and out of my mouth with the voracity of an out of sync metronome. After about 30 seconds of this, I backed away, telling him to slow it down a little. We went back to watching tv, me finding little ways to wipe the spittle off my face and him grinning at me like he thought I wanted it.
Soon after that, my friends arrived and I was relieved. We sat in my living room, playing our favorite games and having a good time. NotGreeny stands up and declares he is going to the convenience store for cigarettes and he would be back soon. We all sort of shrug and continue our intense round of Apples to Apples, not thinking much of it.
About 20 minutes later, he comes back in and sits down. A familiar, yet uninviting smell trails in with him and my close girl friend NotTypeA looks at me and mouths "Pot?"
Indeed, she was right. NotGreeny had decided to take it upon himself to sit in his car, in the middle of my stuck up, middle class neighborhood, and smoke up.
From this point on, my friends were pretty rude to him and I couldn't make eye contact with him. About an hour later, after much chiding from my buds that he couldn't even participate in the game because he was so stoned, he decided to leave. I walked him to the door and he apologized, saying my friends made him feel really uncomfortable. I told him they had every right to feel uncomfortable, he violated my trust and my values. He knew about my no tolerance policy when we were just friends, yet he was so concerned about his "well being" that he didn't think it would matter.
I went back to my party and we continued our game. I got a text from NotGreeny a little bit later saying "I'll quit smoking for you, that's how much you mean to me."
I guess I was feeling nice, so I gave him a second chance. In hindsight, maybe that wasn't such a good idea...

*to be continued*

I deserve so much bigger...

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An adventurous new spirit

Sometimes certain things happen to you that just make you shake your head and laugh. It's usually these life experiences that I chalk up to being the makings of a good story.

Our life story here recently got more interesting when we were approached by the folks at Babeland about testing a few of their products. Don't get me wrong, we have been approached by a wide variety of outfits (mostly promoting DVDs or lingerie or new sex toys), and we have never before considered partnering or linking or promoting any of them. We're not here to make money or to sell anything, so there was never any appeal.

Babeland, however, was different. First, here was a company with a good social conscious that we could actually support. They are at the top of their game and actually care about their customers. Plus, we're not stupid. We really couldn't turn down free toys even though the very thought that anyone would think our opinions on this subject mattered cracked us up! Personally, I can't think of a better story for explaining a suddenly large sex toy collection.

Despite the laughter and the disbelief, we agreed. So, periodically you will start to see "reviews" of certain toys on this site. What you won't see is a traditional review. We really aren't trying to sell you anything and just figure we owe you an honest opinion about the latest merchandise in the form of our stories and shenanigans. If you happen to buy it, then more power to you.

If Only...

I would like for there to be a boy on my bed who would keep me up all night even though I have to be to work at 7am. Sleep is seriously overrated...at least for a night. That's the real reason to take a nap in the afternoon. Mmmmhmm.


But alas, I think I will be sleeping alone tonight. I'm probably never going to get any sleep once I don't have roommates, haha.

Night!

Its all about me...

I don't see anything wrong with wanting to have a go with two guys at once.

In fact, I think I'll make that my goal this year.

The Best And Worst Of It

I keep getting invitations on Facebook to take those likeness quizzes, which are always about sex. Why is that, anyway?

It got me thinking, though. What is the worst thing to happen while having sex? Or, where is the best place to makeout? Or even, ways to get rid of a bad date.

So here are my thoughts on the matters at hand. Some are from the actual pages, but some I'm just saying on my own. And omg don't even try to think these things have necessarily happened to me. Please add your own thoughts in the comment section.

Worst Things To Happen While Having Sex:

• Someone walks in (especially a relative).
• Someone yells the wrong name (Just don't yell names, ok?)
• Dog starts to hump, too. (This was on the FB one. OMG, I would die. That's disgusting.)
• He turns out to be a she...or vice versa.
• Someone has a gastrointestinal problem. (EW)
• Fall off the bed and gets hurt.
• Someone has to vomit.

Best Places To Makeout:

• On a couch.
• On a pier.
• In a car.
• Elevator
• Pool/Ocean/Hot tub
• Wait, where is it NOT good to makeout? As long as it's not excessively PDAish, right?

Ways To Get Rid Of A Bad Date:

• Sick
• Be honest
• Change the clocks so it seems later.
• Food poisoning

Ways To Be Turned On:

• Slow, Intent Kissing
• Porn (Not for this girl, though. No thank you.)
• Back rub/Massage
• Dirty Talk (This can so border on funny, though.)
• Holding Hands
• Alcohol

So...what do you have to add to the lists?

Get your flirt on...

I'm usually not one to flirt. Very unNotSamantha of me I know, but tonight when the last thing on my mind was flirting and showing interest in a guy I end up doing it anyway.

Work this week had been hell and all I wanted was a glass of wine, a good dinner and some great conversation with NotAMystic. Since work was shot and according to NAM I was in for at least another week of it, "because Mercury is in retrograde, take deep breathes and bear with it," when our waiter finally came by I upgraded my wine to a martini and decided that if for no other reason I would get some comfort food out of this meal.

An introduction of the special and a delivered martini later and I was ready to detox. Our waiter kept us both entertained and for me, intrigued. A rare sort who actually smiled with his whole face instead of the polite smile that those who work in the restaurant biz often have. And trust me when I say I'm no soft touch when it comes to service. I like my glass kept full, my waiter to be un-intrusive and my meal to be hot when it reaches my table. Outside of that, I don't have much else that needs to be taken care of.

Tonight's server, however, proved that it is possible to combine charisma with style and a mild dose of flirting and get something that appeals to this woman. Speaking of the waiter, he was a fine specimen. Tall, broad of shoulder, bright of smile and he even had glasses, I couldn't tell if he passed the other physical factor of lack of body hair, but in my mind's eye I pictured him without it. When I first rushed in he was there to actually adjust the table and even put my napkin in my lap, that was a first, so a raised eyebrow for that one. Throughout the meal and he came by and struck up not one but two conversations and asked more questions about me, than what kind of coffee I wanted with dessert. By the time I was leaving for the evening, he made sure to stop by and ask that I come back again soon. Now, I'm sure he's got tips to make (and boy did I tip him!), but I can catch a hint, even when its lobbed as lightly as his was.

So, if you can't find me next Friday, I'll be going back to my restaurant and getting a seat in his section, this time by myself to see if this same waiter/patron chemistry is real or just a figment of my man hungry imagination.

Second time's the charm...

I have returned. Life these past few months have been crazy. Both in good and bad ways, but in general I'm doing great. I've learned so much about myself and about who I want to be with, who I want my friends to be, even how I specifically like my coffee, that I felt it was time to come back and share some of my thoughts with you all again.

I'm no longer with NotHarry. I really don't want to talk about what happened between us. I think you all remember how I left this blog and that's one chapter that will remain closed.

That being said, I will share with you one of my new favorite "bad date" stories that I have endured the past few weeks:

Last Thursday I had the pleasure of a second date with NotPilot. We had met the previous Friday at Artomatic in dc and there was a little fizzling of chemistry, so the next obvious step was to meet again. He asked me out to dinner and I consented.
We met at one of my favorite restaurants and sat outside with some drinks. Conversation went okay, he alarmed me with a 15 minute rant about adoption, followed by a blatant disregard for my questioning his religious attendance to a Unitarian Church when he is a "fierce" Athiest. He then asked me what my favorite position was.
I replied "Moderate."
I ordered food, in hopes of at least getting a free meal out of this ordeal, and I thought things were getting a bit better because he seemed interested at my vast knowledge of flying, something of which he considers hinself an expert on.
Then it happened. I was happily enjoying my cheese & onion enchiladas and was telling him a story about my future puppy procurement when he interrupted me with "You've got some food on your cheek." Before I had time to react with my napkin, he licks his thumb (and I mean a full-on lick, tongue out of the mouth, if it was a cartoon I would have heard the SLURRRP) and WIPES THE MINISCULE AMOUNT OF SAUCE OFF OF MY CHEEK.
I stopped mid-sentence and sort of stared at him, wiping his thumb spit off of my cheek with my clean napkin.
"Sorry, I'm a touchy person," he said meekly, pushing his food around with his fork.
"Sorry, I wasn't expecting your spit on my face on the second date."

___
I needed that. It's good to be back.

Limiting factors

Shouldn't there be a statute of limitations on our issues finally revealing themselves? I am the child of a divorce that left me essentially without a father. He split in the middle of the night when I was 5...didn't really visit...then died when I was 13. Yadda yadda yadda. I've been pretty up on most of the issues this has resulted in, but within the past year I have noticed yet another development.

I seem to have developed an interest in older men. I know this isn't all that unusual and that it's common for women to sometimes seek out their "father" in their dating life, but shouldn't this have manifested much earlier? To date, I have been more well known for my liaisons with younger men. However, within the past year, I have found myself flirting with men who have more silver hair on their head than not.

The latest manifestation of this has been my grandmother's occupational therapist. I met him last time I was in Texas and was immediately attracted to his sarcasm and motorcycle. I'm currently back in Texas for a two-week stint and was veritable wreck at my grandmother's therapy session today. I put on makeup (me...the girl who only wears makeup when she's going "out") and found myself giggling at his jokes. I would vacillate between this and trying not to focus on him because I felt so transparent. The true horror of the situation hit home when I heard my mom giggling along beside me.

Immediate thought: OMG. I am interested in the same guy my mom is.

Don't get me wrong. He's attractive...has tattoos...drives a Harley...is amazing with my grandmother...has amazing eyes. But (and this is a big 'but') he is also divorced and has a teenage son. He is definitely more in my mom's age ballpark than mine. Talk about a wake-up call.

Do I see myself changing? Probably not. I'm at a great age where both younger and older don't seem ridiculous. God, I love my early 30s. As long as they can keep up with me, then why not ;-)

Everything I know I learned from SATC…

This was going to be a post about my recent vacation, but then I realized that the with the movie of the series that gave this blog its claim to fame that maybe a post in honor of that would be better. Please note that some of the below could be a spoiler to you if you have not yet seen the new movie.

So of the many episodes of the show and finally the movie I've learned many things that I would like to impart here:

1. Never underestimate the power of a really good martini.
   
2. A good pair of 4 inch heels will never let you down.
   
3. Breaking up via post-it note is frowned upon.
   
4. If you keep bumping into him at places you go with your friends don't fight the fever, date him already.
   
5. Don't let a lazy ovary and one nut get the best of your reproductive rights.
   
6. Comparing your love life to chemo therapy is a sure sign its time to get out.
   
7. Just because good things are happening to you doesn't mean you won't Poughkeepsie in your pants.
   
8. Boys will be boys, girls will be girls, but friends who will help you pack up 18 years of your life are forever.
   

I've been blogging with three wonderful women and no matter our ups and downs we've managed to come full circle, so in our lives, this blog and wherever else we may go, that won't ever change.

Snoop

Cosmo had an article about snooping on your boyfriend. While I'm all about a spy mission, this bothered me LIKE WHOA! I am hoping they wrote the article in jest, but I am sure some women will be tearing out the pages to use as a guide. They suggested such things as looking in his cell phone and checking his email account as well as googling his prescription meds to see what his deal is.

Now, I have of course been an observant girl in my time and noticed things like, "Is there only 1 toothbrush?" and "Is there lipstick on that glass?" but I have never and will never snoop in a guy's email or go through his sock and underwear drawer. I think the second I do that, then it's free reign to look in mine and hell to the no do I not want that happening!

And whatever happened to trust? Sure, it will fuck you over sometimes, but I'd still rather not be a cynical human being. Bad move, Cosmo.

Between a mistake and a hard place

I ran into a mistake on Friday evening. As I was wandering through the exhibits at Artomatic with a group of friends and the current NotDarling, I caught my mistake strolling through my peripheral vision. The pace of my breathing increased, and my hands got all jittery and hyper. This was not the reaction of an excited girl, but rather the adrenalin of being faced with the inevitable. Despite it's size, Washington D.C. really is a small town, and mistakes can only be avoided for so long.

The mistake in question was a short, odd-looking fellow who fancied himself a mediocre photographer. He sought me out online via this blog (and I believe Flickr) and eventually took our relationship into weird text-sex territory. The burden is not entirely on my mistake. I readily went along for the exciting ride even though I knew he had a girlfriend, and even though I had begun dating someone else. He had a way with words, and I considered it harmless. Harmless turned into a few notes left in bookstores and the eventual discussion of when talk would end and action would replace it. After months of teasing, I decided to take my mistake up on his offer and meet him at his apartment for porn and sex. I have never before gone into a situation with only the basest of needs and no desire whatsoever to get to know or like the person I was meeting. Needless to say, this was not the makings of the best situation. To make a long story short, I did not fuck him. I think neither of us were what the other expected. We had each seen pictures, and I knew he was not what I would look for physically. However, the personality also did not match the person who had pursued me online either. The confident guy who talked of doing many, many things to me was really a shy giggler who would not shut up. He was overconfident in all the things he should not have been overconfident in. After about 30 minutes of listening to him, we both knew this was going nowhere. So, I left. Angry. The troops I had waiting in the wings swooped in for their extraction, and I learned a valuable lesson.

(1) This was not me. Not really. I felt guilt going in. I felt guilt while I was there. And, I felt guilt afterwards. (2) This was not the kind of guy I would ever associate with. It was just all a mistake.

All of my friends knew about the mistake, even NotDarling. Knowing I had told NotDarling about it, however, made Friday worse. There was no interaction between me and my mistake, but I knew NotDarling knew about it and was judging me. That, my friends, was hardest to take.

Totally Natural

I just can't write the salacious details I want...I'm sorry. I just can't. I guess mostly because the anonymity of this site is gone and while it's not my face accompanying these posts, it is no secret for some who I am and who the subjects of my posts would be about. And while I do share things with friends about my life, those aren't the only people who may read here. I would rather not give the details to those people I don't even like.

With that said...


The other night I was hanging out with two guy friends and before we commenced our beer drinking, they were playing music (guitar and drums). I enjoy watching people play even if it is difficult to not give my 'professional' opinion and want to jump in on an instrument of my own. It can be so eye opening to hang out with just guys sometimes, though. The testosterone that builds is so funny. Luckily, I am totally able to "be one of the guys" (while still being a lady and desirable, of course). I love to see them practically bump chests when they make a good joke, but then a split second later hold the door for me. Or how they give me the better beer or pour one of the darker ones into a glass so it will taste better. And meanwhile they're talking smack on the "dumb blonde" who works at the bar. I like that they can be themselves around me. I had a lot of guy friends in college and, while I love my chick friends, too, it's been nice to get closer to some guys lately.

But we'll never go shopping together. They just wouldn't understand!

Sex and the City - The Movie

You knew we'd mention it eventually! With the movie right around the corner, it gives us all a chance to relive the fun and drama we experienced with the series. I, personally, am looking for any chance to drool over Chris Noth. Despite the name and premise of this blog, we are not some weird fanatics. The series just provided such great eye candy (hello...the city...the fashion...the men) and a chance have someone else act out and analyze our issues.

Anyway, on to more important things...parties. What better way to enjoy the show than with a cosmo? After noticing the Austin Alamo Drafthouse was showing the movie complete with the cosmo experience, I decided that we (the Not girls) needed to find the right DC experience. What did I find? Absolutely nothing. No bars, no alternative theaters...DC seems to care about nothing but the upcoming election. However, if you live just about anywhere else in the U.S., someone is looking out for you. Just check out the special SATC premiere parties happening across the country...

• Party it up at Blu Sushi in Naples, Florida.
• The Centaur Bar in Detroit, Michigan is even raffling off a pair of Manolos.
• Bid on a pair of tickets to the NYC premiere. The proceeds benefit Oxfam (great organization, btw).
• In Dallas, even the big D has a party.
• Kansas City is celebrating Sex and the City passion party-style.
• I have a feeling the place to be and be seen with be the NYC premiere party on the 27th. Radio City Music Hall and MoMA. Holla.
• Columbus, Ohio is premiering the movie on the 27th and streaming the NYC premiere. Then head over the Bar of Modern Art on the 29t for a kickin' party.

So what are we doing? Well, I do believe we'll be settling into a nearby bar with cosmos and long islands prior to heading to the local midnight premiere. If you want to join us, drop a comment.

Share your love

Do you have a love story to share? Send yours to Camille Riley and participate in her latest project.

I don't know about you, but I love a good love story (but won't read your standard "romance" novel any longer). Also, want a bit of inspiration? Check out the amazing photography project called The Ones We Love. I'm trying to figure out what kind of portfolio I can put together, so they'll allow me to participate :-)

Nice guy syndrome

I just got my knickers in such a twist at work that I had to take a break and rant about it. Excuse me while I get up on my soapbox.

(clears throat)

I am TIRED of nice guys and the nice guy excuse! The nice guy who won't make the first move seems to be all I'm surrounded by. I am even going to remove myself and the boys who enthrall me from the equation. Let me just talk about the boy friends that I have and the women who are smitten with them. When will these men learn that being nice isn't an excuse for a lack of balls? Yes, we understand that you're afraid of rejection and lack confidence just like women, but has this become a pandemic? Are men putting their foot down and refusing to make the first move, preferring to remain single and celebate (with the exception of their hand)? You know what...I could even accept that. Lay down the law and say you're tired of bearing all of the burden of the chase. However, don't say that the reason you're single and can never find a girl is because you are too nice. Perhaps the reason you're single is because you need to grow a pair.

Ho’s before bros?

I used to think of myself as a diehard girlfriend. Down for any type of adventure and always up for the new and exciting. Especially, when it came to hanging out with my girls. Lately, however, I've been feeling none to friendly and even less inclined to do the new and tingly things with anyone including my girls. While the Nots have been out doing things with each other, I've been doing my thing over here, and trying to jumpstart my non-existent social calendar. This did get me to thinking about friendships and girlfriends and boyfriends.

Where does your friend stand while you're getting into a relationship?

There's no pause button on a friendship. And often times you may want to establish yourself in the relationship with your person before introducing them around to friends and sometimes family. Do you need to vett the new entry into your life to make sure they're capable of handling their own? And while I wish this was my problem its not, I don't have a significant other I'm trying to work into my regular life. I just have a lot of questions about what to do when I do.

NS

The living dead

Nah, we're not dead. Since we last left you, life has gone on. The girls persevere, and the stories get dished about over caffeine. I, personally, think the stories have gotten a lot more interesting. I'm hoping I get drunk and bored one night and write them all out here. A self-appointed, drunken historian.

I'm trying to get myself back in the hang of blogging here again, so pardon the brief synopsis. Life has been hectic. Boys have been only on my periphery lately as my mind has been occupied by my grandmother being really sick and finishing up a thesis.

I suppose this will have to suffice for a new beginning.

Seven Minutes...

BloggerNote - This should have hit the blog last night at midnight, but for whatever reason, Microsoft Word 2007 saw fit not to post it. Technology...even that's deciding not to cooperate for me today.

In less than seven minutes, it will be NotSkippy’s wedding day.
I discovered yesterday that he and NotIttyBittyTitty were tying the knot this weekend. At first I was shocked, then amused and now, after two glasses are very good wine and some time to mull it over, I’m contemplative. I’ve told several people about it and have got the coterie of pity glances and justified anger, none of which I’m sure what to do with. I’ve tried to reason out my feelings and I realized that no matter how I look at it, I’m equal parts sad and jealous. So what will the morning light bring me? I’m not sure, but I’ve had enough regrets in my life and I won’t add this to the short list of them.

Seven minutes

In less than seven minutes, it will be NotSkippy's wedding day.

I discovered yesterday that he and NotIttyBittyTitty were tying the knot this weekend. At first I was shocked, then amused and now, after two glasses are very good wine and some time to mull it over, I'm contemplative. I've told several people about it and have got the coterie of pity glances and justified anger, none of which I'm sure what to do with. I've tried to reason out my feelings and I realized that no matter how I look at it, I'm equal parts sad and jealous. So what will the morning light bring me? I'm not sure, but I've had enough regrets in my life and I won't add this to the short list of them.

Back on the Bike…

3…2…1…Happy New Year!

….

Okay, so I'm a few days late. Better late than never, right?

*crickets chirping*

And with that I'll just continue with my regularly (or irregularly) scheduled post.

I think I gave up on dating last year. No, let me be honest, it is the New Year after all (that's my story and I'm sticking to it), I gave up on interacting with anyone socially.

No seriously, I gave up on it. I stopped placing online ads on whatever site I found as a potential date. I avoided my friends (and sometimes even my family). I did the little cocoon thing, as much as I could, and even when I did 'go out' I had the vague feeling of being in a crowd and yet still felt alone, you know, the really after school special kind of depressed. And I've already determined that this year will not be more of the same. To that end, I went out with friends last Friday.

I got back on the bike, so to speak. And man was the ride hard.

I met up with the group at what seems to be our Irish pub. We had a table and I got there early enough to be horrified by the really bad Johnny Cash wannabe band. I took NotASong with me for moral support (and someone to talk to incase my verbal skills in a group failed me), and we ordered a round. By the time the Guinness had arrived and the first jokes about how much I love good head (on the Guinness you pervs), I was feeling more comfortable, but I felt like I could just as easily go home, and maybe stare at my computer screens some more; because really, nothing says fun like two widescreen views of computer perfection.

NotHirsute was there, along with NotBeast, NotMetal, NotDaisy and NotSuperboob (not to be confused with NotIttyBittyTitty) and after listening to the latest gossip, which I've apparently been out of the loop on I felt like I was catching back up.

For me this year is about balance and about not letting any one thing have total control over my life. And about getting some of that life. So we'll see how this ride goes. For right now it's not completely uphill, but it's turning out to be a steady climb.

Everything

It's not like I haven't been writing because of lack of material. Quite the opposite, really. Life has been pretty busy lately. I find myself living out of my car and other people's houses. I'm not complaining, though. Well, until I find myself with a night and nothing to do and then I don't know how to handle myself, haha. I think most people go through phases where they want to do a lot and be around people and then conversely go through a phase where they want a lot of alone time. Right now I want to be around everyone and do everything. So...that's what I've been doing-everything.

Love,
NotCarrie

I’m not Dead…yet

Okay, it's the holidays. You've filled up on turkey and you're blazing your way through the mall, and while all of this is going on the ladies of No Sex are taking it easy and leaving you hanging…okay not really, but I'll speak for myself. I've been dealing with a few health issues and they've made me less than inclined to post about anything, least of all my sex life that isn't so sexy right now. So a few more weeks and I'm getting back in the saddle, so to speak.

But before that, I want to talk about death. Pretty somber topic for a blog with pink as the main color. It's just that recently, I've been seeing more and more things in pop culture that point to death and dying or more importantly, what to do before you die. Places to see, things to do, meals to have; there seem to be endless lists upon lists and now there are even movies about it.

What's wrong with living in the now? Why do we need to think about being dead before we even contemplate what we could be doing while living?

All Knickered Up With No Where To Go

So when I got ready today I thought to myself, "Hey, you're going out tonight-wear the hott new knickers!" because that's how I roll-I save the cute ones for when someone might see them. And now it's almost 9pm and plans to go out got postponed so I'm sitting here at home, wrapping Christmas gifts wearing my cute, new knickers. (With clothes over them, of course. I am not sitting around in just my knickers. Um, no.)

Just kidding about someone seeing them, though, but why waste the fun ones for sitting at home?

Well Behaved Women Seldom Make History…

In 2008…I'm going to be a bad bad woman…

Discuss Amongst Yourselves

"Having regular orgasms is as important to your health as flossing your teeth."

~Devra Lee Davis, PhD., Center for Environmental Oncology at the Universty of Pittsburgh Cancer Institute. Taken from Self Magazine.

Back at the old den of sin...

Friday night, post-sushi making adventure with NotCarrie, found me needing male attention. Packing up a couple of supplies, I headed to NotCharlotte’s where I knew game night, wine and a certain someone would provide me with the distraction I needed for a few hours. I was not disappointed. I’ll skip the part about actually having fun playing games and drinking wine. Let’s face it…we’re all here for what happened next.

Around 3 am, I looked up and realized that everyone else was gone save NotCharlotte and NotHarry and myself and NotBeast. We were all a little tipsy, and as the evening had progressed, NotBeast and I had been making minor suggestive comments back and forth. I’m not sure if I was purposefully testing the waters, but when we were all outside chatting I leaned back, saying I was cold and he was so warm. I think after he slipped his arm around my waist I knew things were going to get interesting.

As we settled onto the couch and NotCharlotte and NotHarry settled on the floor, someone hit the lights. I felt like a kid in high school trying to fool around and not get caught by my parents. Eventually they moved to the back part of the basement to go to sleep, and I felt a bit more *ahem* free.

Since I’m not penning a romance novel here, I will spare you most of the details, but I have to tell you about my nipple. I just can’t not. Something like this has never happened before. NotBeast is a guy’s guy, and I like aggressive men. The next morning I woke up, and my left nipple was really sore. Really, really sore. As I was showering I noticed skin was missing and was reminded of this all throughout the day as I would get shots of pain when moving wrong. Less than 24 hours later and my nipple had actually scabbed. Scabbed! I like aggressive, but this has never happened before. Ever.

I’m intrigued…horrified…and am trying to figure out how he’ll have to repay me ;-)

Sleep Face

I can't breathe. No, really. If I ever get kidnapped and they put duct tape over my mouth, I am going to pass out and/or die. As a result, I sometimes snore, too. I like to think it's endearing, but to a light sleeper, it might not be. In addition to that, I do not have one of those pleasant 'sleep faces' as I call them. Some people, when they sleep, look just like they do when awake. They look peaceful, and calm, and not weird at all. I, on the other hand, feel like I look like...well, let's not get descriptive. Usually when I sleep in the midst of another person, I sleep very lightly so as not to fall into this unattractive* state I have. Sometimes, though, a girl is tired (and/or drunk) and light sleeping is just not an option. I know my Sleep Face is not going to be a deal breaker or anything, but at some point, I'm going to fall asleep first, and on my back or something, and then all bets will be off. Like I said, I hope it's endearing.

ZZZZZZZZZZZ

P.S. And just to clarify, I don't look like Satan after a long night or anything. Heavens no! I just look like I'm sleeping.


P.P.S. I can only speak for myself, but I'm probably not going to talk through differences on this blog. If they were blog related, then maybe, but there's really no point on so many levels.


*Relatively unattractive. I could never really be so;)

Invasion of the bodysnatchers

I disappeared. Not because I was afraid. It wasn't even intentional. I was angry...intensely angry at this blog being used to forward any personal agendas and the incomplete truths being told by multiple parties on here. I was all set to blow the whole thing wide open with the "complete" truth, but then I got lazy. I didn't know how to phrase what I wanted to say. And then a busy work schedule became my excuse. Eventually this all eroded into the fact that I lost all desire to remember...to make things worse. I knew that nothing I could write would help what was going on in our lives.

The truth of the matter is (as I'm sure you've garnered by now) that all is not well in Denmark. Some of the girls aren't getting along and haven't really been for a long, long time. I talk to everyone and am left with burden of navigating all sides. This isn't easy or ideal; most of the time it's simply painful. Conversations can turn into emotional russian roulette. I even began campaigning everyone individually to end this blog because I felt the spirit in which it was created was long gone.

I lost and here we are. Tepid, but I promised I would give it another go.

Day Of The Dead

Okay, so I didn't do much to celebrate Day of the Dead, but in my defense I was left pretty tired from my Halloween celebrations last night. I'm proud of myself for resisting the trend of dressing like a skanky ho and spent my day as a gypsy and my evening as death. I mean, I was still hott as both, but in a more every day way as opposed to a short skirt and clevage way.

So how were your Halloweens? Any good stories?

What if Marriage isn’t the Goal?

While NotCharlotte has moved on, I'm still here and this is still the No Sex and the City blog. So I bid her farewell in this blogosphere, but I know I'll see her in others. There my hat is tipped…now on to the post.

 

At 28 years old I've come to the conclusion that while marriage is something I want it's not the goal. So while driving to Maryland to be scared to death, NotASong, NotADot and I confronted a fear of a different sort. I have many things I want to achieve in this go round of life, but the longer I'm single the more I realize that marriage isn't one of them. I want to be in a committed relationship, sure, but I don't consider getting married as the end of the road for me, or even the beginning. So, what if the goal is something else besides the societal norm? What if you're breaking away from tradition and saying that is not what I'm reaching for, but if I get there then fine, if not then, that's fine too. Anyone else for shattering the goal of marriage with me?

 

My goal – to own my very own specialized bookstore/tea and coffee shop. That's it no frills, no thrills, just coffee, tea or me with books.

Take What You Take

Gossip. It's something we all crave. For some, it's a way to feel wanted, like you're part of an inside group. For others, it's a power move. They use information to hurt, gain access, to shock the people it's about. It doesn't help that in our society, we have shows like Gossip Girl and Access Hollywood to fuel our fire. Come Wednesday night, I'm sitting in front of the television, waiting to see what B will to do S, and vice versa. I then start thanking my lucky stars that I don't have friends or situations that vindictive and hurtful. Then I read past posts and comments on this blog.

At the beginning, the four of us set out to anonymously entertain whoever wanted to read with the trials and tribulations of being single in the District. We sat around the table at the diner across the street from the bookstore we all worked and figured out which name would go with what person. We chuckled at the thought of channeling our favorite SATC characters as people ate up our stories like we were eating our cheese fries. "I wonder who will read it?" We pondered.

As things progressed, our friendships waxed and waned. The closeknit community of bookstore compatriots started to fail and cliques grew. The grapevine started to climb and along with it, our stories became more intriguing and detailed. We learned the hard way who to trust and who we should keep a safe distance from. Characters started to develop and we became fully committed to creating for our readers something worth a perusal.

Then people from work started reading this blog. I don't think any of us knew right away, but it became unsettling. I started to become paranoid that people knew things about me and I didn't know who exactly it was. This dissapated after I quit working at the bookstore, after I stopped hanging out with most people from there. I forgot about it and continued living my life and as it happened, giving you guys my honest opinion on my life.

Recently though, it came back. Anonymous comments stung through our posts and I began to narrow down the people I knew had been reading.
It was our fault, once you put something on the internet, it's free domain. Anyone can read. Hell, past me wouldn't give a shit who read, it meant more hits, more people reading something I took the time to write. I mean come on, we wanted people to read.

Then I started to think about what I was writing lately. About NotHarry. Considering he was married to one of the people that hangs out with the people I know read this blog, I started to feel like it was an invasion of my privacy. I know, my fault again. I used this blog as therapy. I wrote what I thought would make things good. When I wrote things out it was confirmation that I was happy. To think that people read this and discuss and write comments on something that I hold close to my heart makes me very frustrated and somewhat angry. I'm angry that people have the nerve to take apart something that makes me so happy and I'm frustrated that I don't feel I can defend myself because, well, this is supposed to be anonymous.

So with these recent developments and with a lot of thinking, I've decided to stop writing as NotCharlotte. I'm giving up this blog. I just can't do it anymore. I've shared for almost four years every single date, every single fuck up, every single emotion that I've felt with regard to boys, men, and relationships in general. I just can't do it anymore.

I can't speak for the other girls, it's up to them what they decide to do with this forum. I just know that I can't continue sharing my secrets when I know they're being read by people I wouldn't share with in real life.

I'm going to miss it though, I would look forward to comments from our regular readers. I got excited when a new person would read our blog and comment so favorably on what grew from four girls shooting the shit to a full blown commitment of our time and experiences.


I invite you to continue writing your thoughts and opinions to me, I can be reached at pinkisneat@gmail.com.

I think going west may be in my future…

Anthony Bourdain described the Pacific Northwest in one word…"Obsession." If there were ever one word to describe yours truly this would be it. I think the love of my life is waiting for me there as well. So, here's my send off NoVA. In three more years (if I can wait that long), I'm going to be west coast bound. And I'll be bringing it to you live from some Seattle coffee shop, or who knows, I might be opening my own dream store.

An "I Need A Hug" Day

It can be difficult when, after getting used to physical contact, you go a day without any. And I'm just talking hugs here. I could have used one today. My day just went on too long and began in a hurry that set me on edge for the rest of the day.

Spooning is for Lovers

I really don't understand how I can sleep by myself, when I've got the most perfect spoon partner just a few miles away.
It's so hard to rip myself from the comforts of NotHarry's bed that I find myself making excuses as to why I can go home just a little bit later. The only reason I left tonight is because I'm doing an event in Arlington tomorrow that requires me to be up at 8am and work from 10am until midnight.
Sleep is required for me to not kill someone tomorrow.


The way things are going though, I don't think i'll have to sleep by myself for much longer.

Flirting

As I was sitting in the world's worst traffic yesterday (seriously, traffic at 730pm? Why.) I had the following thought:

If I am going to have a boyfriend*, does that mean I have to stop flirting?

And honestly, I was a little distraught about the thought. Flirting is almost second nature to me. It's fun. I enjoy it. I do it...a lot. I don't think I could ever just not do it. The thing is, though, that I don't follow up my flirting with propositions or anything so I think I should be okay continuing the habit. Maybe to a lesser degree, of course. I don't want to be thatgirl.

And yeah, I know the whole, "if you're happy with your guy/girl then you won't be looking elsewhere," but that's not the problem. Like I said, it's not like I am out there propositioning people, I just like to be charming. I almost can't help it;)




*Do NOT jump the gun, please. I said "IF".

The Distinguished Gentlewoman…

Is there such a thing as the Distinguished Gentlewoman?

While talking with NotASong we pondered this question. Men as they get older get 'distinguished,' women on the other hand just get old or if they're so inclined they get Botox. But men age and like fine wine they get better with age.

Just to put things in perspective here. I'm only 28, but I don't like the idea of when I get old, then that's it. I don't like not having society even giving me the option of being a distinguished gentlewoman. While I'm sure some love the idea of aging gracefully and easing their way into the golden years…I've always been more of a live young, die hard leave a good smelling corpse, just without the dying part. I love to party hard (when I can tear myself away from my two computers, that is), and I love the idea of getting older. But I want to have that same sense of classiness that men seem to acquire when they cross over the 50 year mark.

Did women somehow miss out on this? I mean currently, amongst the magazines, books and just about all kinds of media there seems to be a focus on being younger, appearing younger, and stopping the aging process all together. There are even entire magazines devoted strictly to the latest in plastic surgery. The newest creams, potions and brews, can take away your wrinkles, make your smile brighter and offer you the appearance of a younger you. What's wrong with a wrinkle or two or having your hair finally go grey?

I'm fed up with being told that I need to look young for as long as I can because when I finally look my age no one else will want me. Dammit, I want my wrinkles and my years to show; proof positive that I'm old enough to know what I'm doing and know that I'm doing it right. Distinguished Gentlewoman…bah!

You Turn Me On, I'm A Radio

The past few weeks have been a blur. I recently got a huge promotion at work and it seems that along with the summer, my free time has blown away like the last whisps of humid air that burdened the DC area. I'm happy for both to be gone, to be quite honest.
I've been spending most of my time with NotHarry, with a few visits here and there with NotMiranda, NotPhotographer, and myriad other favorites.
Things are going well. It's been so long since I've had a guy in my life that I want to be with all the time. My parents like him, all of my friends like him, which is awesome. I think it's so important for my friends to like and get along with whoever I end up with.

However, like any blossoming couple, we have our problems. One of my pet peeves with him is that he doesn't commit to things until the last minute. This doesn't drive me crazy all the time, but if it's for something that I consider important, I think I have a right to be a bit perturbed. He's done it twice and both times he ended up going camping instead.
I have chalked it up to the fact that he just doesn't want to tell me no.

So over the weekend we were discussing things and he notified me that Halo 3 was coming out on Tuesday (at midnight to be exact) and that he probably wouldn't spend much time with me over the week, unless I came over and played Wii in the other room. I said that was cool, I had plans formulating anyway.
Cut to this afternoon. He invited me over to watch Heroes and I declined, blaming high gas prices and payday not being until Tuesday (to pay for said high gas prices).
He said "okay, cool. we can do something tomorrow."
"Oh really? what about your silly game?" I asked. "I'm going out to dinner with some friends and was going to invite you, but you told me you'd be busy."
"I'm sure I'll want to take a break. Does the offer still stand?"

This amuses me, simply because it made me realize that he truly doesn't mean to be non-committal. This just means he's a typical guy.


So he's going to dinner with my friends and I tomorrow.


Little does he know it's dinner and salsa dancing lessons...

Burn the Floor…

I love a good dance movie. So when NotMiranda and I got together a two weeks ago this is what we did. Now, I'm the first to say that the remake of "Shall We Dance" isn't high art, but the dance scene between Richard Gere and the former JLo is a thing of beauty. And when I see something come together as well as those two did for that Tango I know that this is the dance for me. And given my current dateless status it gives me one more thing to compare men and women in relationships. But above all else...

This was hot, this was probably the hottest thing I've ever seen...now, how to get some for myself...

And in case you're wondering what music inspired this post...

Bubble World

I am taking a class where my teacher often tells us to enter her "Bubble World", where things go how she needs them to and what we're learning can be easily applied. It's easy for me to go to Bubble World since I am pretty sure it is next door to Daydream World, where I spend much of my time.

Bubble World is where things go just how they should, no one is tired, no one is in a bad mood, and things go according to plan. Since I know Bubble World would get boring if a constant thing, I would instead like to have a button to push where, when things get kind of crappy, I can leave reality and be in Bubble World.

Scenario 1:

My boyfriend and I get in a fight where unkind words are said.

*BUBBLE WORLD BUTTON PUSHED*

Boyfriend shows up holding boombox above head playing a song he knows will mean something. (and no, not "In Your Eyes".)

Scenario 2:

I go out while on vacation and meet the guy of my dreams, but realize I am leaving the next day.

*BUBBLE WORLD BUTTON PUSHED*

Amazing guy tells me he just got transfered to DC and needs someone to show him the city.

Scenario 3:

Am having wonderful evening with guy and realize I have to get up early the next day.

*BUBBLE WORLD BUTTON PUSHED*

Time stops. Also, there are stars. And it's chilly. Bubble World is awesome.

I heard it through the grapevine...

I found out last week that NotSkippy had just proposed two weeks previous to NotIttyBittyTitty.

Not exactly sure how or what I feel about that...so for now we'll go with indescribable.

When The Sun Rises

And what was maybe the best response to "Please stay" at 6am:


"But I'm a classy lady and I have to be home before the sun rises."


Of course, while smiling demurely...

Stars Are Blind

Sometimes my "Daily Romantic Horoscope For Singles" email can really piss me off. Astrology is for fun, right? I just like to read them and be completely girly and get excited about the possibilities. Tonight, though, not only did it come at the most inopportune time, but it's message sucked:

You're a real free spirit now, full of out-there ideas and electric energy. You're likely loving life and your independent status, if the stars have their say -- but, of course, this makes you ever more alluring, too.

I guess it does explain why I had a creepy stalker at work tonight and more than one guy gave me a double take, but is it telling me what I really want to hear? No, it sure isn't.

And I know what your first question will be: What does she really want to hear?? Well, to give you a hint...I really would be okay with cancelling my subscription to the Daily Romantic Horoscope for Singles...

Feel It All

I'm still trying to get over the fact that NotHarry has liked me for three years. I don't ever remember having a fondness for someone so long... well except for Matt Damon. Recently, we've been inseperable. This week has been really trying for me both mentally and physically, and he has been my rock.
I spent most of the weekend at the vet with my ailing dog and soon NotHarry would stop asking if I wanted him to be there and just take off work early and show up at my house 30 minutes before the appointment.
He was there when the vet told us the bad news and he was also there to talk to my mom on the phone and tell her the bad news because I was too choked up.
He was there when my family made the decision to put my dog to sleep.
He was there to keep my spirits up and kept me busy for the remainder of the week when I was too upset to go to work.

It's so weird that the second I stop looking for someone, it happens. He comes out of the woodwork and all of a sudden, I'm content and pleased and everything's running so smoothly.

My parents like him too, which is a HUGE thing. Usually, my dad just makes nicknames up for all of my guy friends and makes fun of them mercilessly. Instead, at dinner they talk about Germany and animals and history and dad tells me that we need to "fatten him up" and that "he seems to really fit in with you." My mom already wants him to meet our family in Wisconsin. It's so surreal.

A Picture Speaks A Thousand Words

I randomly saw a picture last night of this guy I used to be completely enamored with and even made out with on many, many occasions. Le me tell you, he is looking goooood! So good in fact, that I initiated some contact and would absolutely meet up with him even though it has been years now since we've hung out.

Are You Dating?

I have had no fewer than three people ask me in the past few days if I am dating NotGraceful. What, a guy and girl can't just be friends these days? I guess not since our amount of time spent together has increased and we've even been seen out together on the town. So scandalous!

But the thing is, if we were dating, would I answer in the affirmative to the inquisitors? Is it any of their business? Say we were dating. It would be really new right now, right? I don't think I would want everyone all up in our business. I don't want to start the gossip trains a goin'. (And believe me, they are out there. Just waiting for news.) Yeah, I'd be excited and happy, but renting out a billboard to declare the news is so not something I would do.

And that's the other thing. I loathe putting labels on things like this. I vomited every single time in high school when two people would be described as "talking." What does that even mean? It is ridiculous. And so what is the next step, dating? But at what point do two people become boyfriend/girlfriend? After how many dates are two people exclusive? It all just becomes increasingly confusing and obnoxious, yet it's annoyingly necessary. At a certain point, and especially if el sexo is involved, I want to know where we stand, but I seriously dread the "What are we?" conversation.

Unintended

"How long have you liked me?"
"For a long, long time."
"How long?"
"A long time."
"I didn't know you liked me until you 'put the moves' on me."
"You mean when I asked you for coffee?"
"That was a long time ago! Like February! You've liked me since February?"
"I've liked you a lot longer than that."
"How long?"
"I liked you when I first met you, three years ago. You were always so different. So funny and entertaining. I would look forward to our parties because it meant that I would get to see you."
"Really? Wow, I never knew."
"Well, it's not like I could have done anything about it... I mean, I WAS married."
"True."

I have found myself in the most unconventionally awesome relationship, ever. Don't worry, he's been divorced from his wife since September. We just started dating about 3 weeks ago. That conversation above took place last night. I love taking things slow... and goodness knows he does too.

There's plenty more to this story, but I'm tired and kind of want to make my posts worth it to you guys :-)

Trying To Tell Me Something?

I was just digging around in the bottom of my bag for a pen and what do I find? A CONDOM! What the hell? (And no, not used. Do you think I would be blogging about a used condom in my bag? If that had happened I would have 1) Wondered if I had been drugged and 2) Shower at the thought of some random jizz being in my bag.)


So from where did the condom come? Is it a sign from God to have el sexo? NotMiranda said she didn't put it in there so I'm going to ask NotGraceful, although that would be so weird if he had. Wouldn't it have been more appropriate to actually have it when needed?

Mystery condom, mystery condom, from where did you come?

Parking in the rear...

I love that men magazines try to be about super manly things, but in the end still sound (look and feel) like the ladies mags.

However, there was one article that I was reading in Details this month, that was something I would never expect to find in a woman's mag. They were talking about anal sex.

*listens a feet scramble to leave blog*

Surprisingly, its not something I've thought about having myself. I've read about it plenty, but honestly never seriously given thought about doing it. But now that I've read this article and when I rethink what I have read about it, I've begun to wonder if it would be worth it.

In small anecdotes the article mentions how both men and women are turned on by the activity, but that for some the psychological issues for one of the guys in the article proved to be too much and he discontinued the activity, despite the fact that his girlfriend enjoyed it more than vaginal sex.

This is where I saw the breakdown for how men think about sex and how women seem to think about sex (at least with the information given in the article). The few guys mentioned were more concerned with the body's non-sexual reaction than the women and for them it seemed to be more about reclaiming dominance. But I'm wondering if the article explored everything (and not that I expected it to do so), but it would have nice if it would have gone into more detail than the 2 pages (with a glaringly obvious picture taking up 3/4 of one page) allowed.

Hmmm...maybe the next encounter I have will be rear parking only. For scientific (cough sexual cough) reasons only, of course.

DSL

We're not talking high-speed internet here, people. Say it with me: Dick Sucking Lips. Crude, yes, but apparently I have them as was told to me by two guy friends whom I have known forever*. I feel like I've won a superlative or something.

Thank you, thank you! I couldn't have done it without really good genes and some nice lipgloss!


But what does one do with such a feature? Oh wait, that! Not tonight, though. Tonight was more about stopping things before they went too far. I think it was a good thing there wasn't a drop of alcohol in sight.




*And have never bing bonged. I've only kissed these two guys. Nothing more.

Live free...

Earlier today I told NotMiranda that I had a funny feeling in my gut about my current guy situation. I thought it was because I thought it was going to turn into just a hook up thing. I was also afraid that it was going to go nowhere and the friendship I had with the person in mind would be lost.

After talking with this specific person (notname TBD), I realized that the funny feeling in my gut was because I think it's turning into something more complex than I'm prepared to handle.

It all started with the butterflies I felt in my stomach when he kissed me last night.


More later, I need time to think.

Blast From The Past

I am 90% sure I saw NotRoger in the truck next to me the other night as I returned from an out-of-town trip. Unfortunately, the moment was fleeting and I hesitated when given the chance to take the same road he was. It seemed a bit too stalkerish to change my route in order to confirm who I had seen, but I instantly regretted it since the change in direction was still an option for my way home. I think what stopped me was the fact that my car is not exactly incognito and I also didn't know what I would say or do if I did see him get out somewhere. "Hey, I followed you! How have you been!?" Yeah, no.

Very interesting, though.

Beer. The Love Catalyst

What, two beers in and all I want to do is makeout with someone? TWO BEERS? What the hell is wrong with me;)? It is unfortunate that I need to actually get some sleep tonight, haha.

Beauty + Money = Empty Beds or Why the Rich and Famous will get none of my sympathy

I'm not usually one to read tabloids. In fact I try to keep as far away from them as possible. However, I couldn't help but notice the glaring cover of last weeks (this weeks, however the hell the date the damn things), US Weekly magazine, that boldly proclaimed that there was some reason why the rich, famous and beautiful were lonely and unloved.

*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.

Let's Call It Off

A few days ago, I went on the worst date of my entire dating career.

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...

Summer Love

I blame Justin Timberlake, but I am itching for a summer love. With August quickly approaching and fall soon to be on the horizon, I want to pause these summer months so I can head to the beach, put on a short skirt and some flip flips and dance until the sun comes up at an outdoor party. I want to lounge on the sand until my boredom gets the best of me and I join in on a casual game of touch football. I want to drink margaritas with cute straws and umbrella decorations. I really want to doze while laying on a boat rocking on the sea.

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!

Missed Connections

In order to properly celebrate NotDarling’s birthday, the chicas and I crammed into a car and headed into DC on Friday to spend the evening declaring our favorite things about our birthday boy and buying him (and us) some super strong drinks.

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.

‘Youth is wasted on the young’

I love my morning radio show. So much so that I try to be late enough getting out the door so that I can sit in rush hour traffic (I’m a bit of an oddball I know) and listen to more of it. I particularly like it when they have discussions about relationships and dating. They always give me food for thought.

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?

Feeling like the third, fifth and seventh wheel..

Saturday night I went out to help NotBeauty celebrate her 21st birthday.

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.

I could:
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*

Starting Fresh*

* This thing will be taken over by asterisks if I try to explain and clarify everything. That said, if you question something-ask, but I'm not using the interweb to work through problems.

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.

Now I remember why I stopped watching tv...

I gave up watching tv on the regular basis about 3 years ago. Between reality shows and the paparazzi vying for the attention of the latest starlet/studlet I couldn't be bothered to keep up. However, occasionally, when I'm held against my will and my eyes are held open with toothpicks I'm forced to watch it.

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.

Everybody cares, everybody understands

This site has been filled with so many half truths and incomplete stories for the past few months that I want to scream. I'm surprised any of you bother to read it any more. I know I barely do. Well, stay tuned party people. If my predictions come true, things will start to get a bit interesting here as truth comes out.