Bar Tabs

Going to bars where one knows the bartender usually results in some hooking up, whether with extra strong drinks or cheaper tabs. Well, when I got my tab for $23 after almost four hours of drinking, I was beyond ecstatic for the hooking up that had ensued. Fast forward to the next day when NotGraceful and I realized that our tabs had gotten switched and he had unknowingly paid not only for a few of my drinks, but for the two I bought for him. Ooops! I was pretty d-runk, though, so it's okay.

Man, Friday was so much fun that we're still talking about it! The other day my one guy friend texted me, "Sorry we couldn't makeout. That's always the highlight of seeing you" (he has a girlfriend now) and then my other guy friend texted, "When are we partying again?" (hottest guy ever.)

Anyway, so continuing from some of what NotMiranda wrote about, here is what I was up to Friday night at the same bar. She is right about my random conversation about bra-size, but what she forgot to mention was my even more random conversation with NotShorty about numbers of orgasms and when a guy has done enough and can be selfish. I am not sure where this came from (Oh wait, maybe the shooter, jack and coke and jeger bomb.)

Once back at my house, where the others had a restroom pit stop, I did indeed lay down in my yard and order NotGraceful to steamroll me. I know what you're thinking- in your front yard?! It was the middle of the night, though, and I'm a slut, I guess. Because when I want to get steamrolled, I get it. NotGraceful must have been new to the act, though, because his skills were a bit awkward and I kept yelling out, "NotBear does it better!" and "Call NotBear! Get him over here!"

Oh, maybe you're wondering what steamrolling is. Well, any number of people lay down on their backs and take their pants off. No wait, kidding about the pants part. Pants stay on! Then one person (the steamroller) proceeds to roll across the people on the ground just like a steamroller would. It's a lot of fun. I promise. NotGraceful needs to work on it, though. He got an "A" for effort, but his execution was a "B-" at best.

I, unfortunately, wasn't there for the events that followed with NotCharlotte, NotMiranda, and NotGraceful as I was home asleep...or drunk emailing/texting/IMing...so my night ended with me asleep in my bed still wearing my jeans. I'll let one of the others continue their part of the story.

On why I love Fridays and friends

Ready to kick off a long weekend at our favorite bar, NotCarrie, NotCharlotte and I grabbed NotGraceful and headed down to Fredericksburg to meet up with a couple of NotCarrie’s other Not characters and imbibe in the ambiance of Spirits.

The stresses of the previous week melted away as we took advantage of $2 kamikazes and began sipping that first Jack & Coke. As is typical for Spirits, you stand around long enough and a random assortment of characters find their way to you. NotShorty (we’re talking 6’8’’ here, people) adopted our group early on. Finally, being the oldest in our group got me something as NotShorty swore he was at least 10 years older than everyone present. Shocked I was 31, I smiled as I took the drink as my prize.

Several drinks later, our flirt-o-meters were off the charts and the conversation (and night) took a turn for the interesting. Why don’t we do this “choose your own adventure” style? Which Friday night shenanigan do you want to read about?

- NotGraceful claimed you couldn’t get a hickie from biting, so I proved him wrong*.
- I turn around and NotCarrie had somehow wound up in a conversation that involved guessing what her cup size is.
- Me winding up tipsy enough to end up with my tongue in NotShorty’s mouth in the middle of the bar but not drunk enough to take him up on the ride home from his place the next morning.
- NotCarrie explaining to NotGraceful what steamrolling is in her front yard.
- Sticking my head out the window barreling down I-66 while kissing on the outside of the car.
- Losing both my flip flops and my cell phone as I attempted to ford a river.
- Strip poker until 5 am in the morning.

And that’s just my evening. Curious?


*Poor guy is still wearing a bandaid to work ; )

In The Stars

My new "thing" is obsessively checking my horoscope. It's not like I plan my day around it or even put too much truth behind it, but it's something trivial to do each day. Well, today's was total hottness:


Someone awfully appealing throws a little sweet talk your way. Go on and throw some right back. Not only will this lift your spirits, it just might open your heart. There's no harm in testing the waters, is there?

The only thing is, my daily astrology email JUST came and what good does that awesome horoscope do me at 11:52pm!? And the only person I can recall who sweet talked me was someone's younger brother and it was just awkward. ANd no, I did not throw any back.

I'll make up for it tomorrow, though. I need to test the waters.

Maybe How NOT To Get The Guy

I went to a bar last night that has karaoke to meet up with some college friends I don't get to see enough. We sat at a booth and after we all had a drink in our hands, we began to catch up and joke around. Until I hear this:

"NotVibrato, NotCarrie, and NotFlowers to the stage, please!" said to music that sounded frighteningy close to a song by Aqua.


Yes, Aqua.


Not one to ignore a call to stage, I dragged my friends up there to squeak our way through the song. "Barbie Girl"?! Seriously? I can't believe NotCharming secretly picked that for us. I don't even know the song, save for the chorus.

Anyway, we got through it, but it was not a pretty sight or sound. I'm fairly sure much of the bar was wishing for it to be over. I wanted to pick another song to redeem my street cred, but I figured it best just to let those few minutes on stage just fade into the night.

A Sign Of Times To Come

We finally had a gathering where the male to female ration was closer to 1:1!


HOOOORRAAYYYY!!!!!!


I was looking at pictures from Friday's party when I realized that in one of the group shots there are four females and....get this...FOUR MALES*! You may remember my recent complaint about the cooter fest that our social group has become. Well, I think this is a good sign of times to come.

*There were more than 8 people there. I'm just using one photographical representation of the evening for my highly scientific statistical research.

Cheer It On

I know we've been lacking in posts lately. I'd like to take much of the blame.
Yesterday, I graduated from NotHarvard. I have therefore deemed last Tuesday through this Sunday as my "Tribute to Alcoholism."
So far, so good. Tuesday night was a party at NotVeryMature's, wherein I got pretty drunk and went to work on 3 hours of sleep and a slight hangover. Wednesday night was Mexican food and margaritas, last night was NotCheers, three drinks, and bumming cigarettes off of tablefulls of cute guys. Tonight is a party being hosted by NotSamantha. I think this will be the culmination of all past nights and future jaunts into the world of drinking/flirting/making out with random guys. Tomorrow night we're headed to NotQuiteRichmond for cheap drinks and unique atmosphere. Past trips to this place have provided many a NotPost, so keep your fingers crossed.

So there's my excuse. If you're lucky, we'll all have something good to contribute come Sunday... after the Motrin kicks in.

Lights Out

The other day at work the power went out. I guess some Transformer* blew up so for almost four hours we were without power. I was offered the option of going home, but this girl needs all the money she can make! I also figured we would get to slack for those four hours and do nothing. Silly me! The same thing happened a couple of years ago and we all just sat near the windows and read or did whatever we wanted so I just assumed we would get to do that this time. After gathering near the windows, I got my group together and said to sit on the floor in a circle for games. Then I went to grab paper and a pen so we could play a good ol' game of MASH. Nevermind that I acted like a 12 year old-I was definitely the most fun one there:)

Anyway, the fun didn't last for long, because those in charge had the audacity to tell us to get back to work. I gave my appropriate amount of attitude and then set off to get some stuff done. First, though, I headed to the breakroom with one of my favorite coworkers, NotRad, to grab our cell phones. Well, it was pitch black dark and kind of scary, but before I could even think about the zombies that could be hiding back there, I had another thought:

"Hey, NotRad, it's too bad we're completely platonic because this would be a lot of fun."


So a semi-wasted opportunity as no one was working with whom I would take advantage of a dark and deserted room...maybe next time. *sigh*


*Please tell me you got the song in your head!

Sweet relief

I almost fell off my chair this morning. NotTutorBoy sent me an email. A long email, in fact, laying out why he cut off contact. My eyes teared up not from sadness but from the sweet relief of knowing just what happened. I hadn't realized until that moment just how much I had been carrying this around. Despite my confidence that everything had been amazing, I realized I had begun to doubt myself. Sweet relief:

"Hey NotMiranda,

Sorry it took me so long to get back to you. So here's the deal: I've been on and off with this girl for the last year and a half (long distance relationship). When I met/pursued you, we had been broken up for a few weeks. She moved back recently and I took her out to eat so we could talk about things. Long story short, we decided to give it another try. In transit, from the restaurant she found a number of your hairs in my car. Needless to say, she wasn't thrilled. I explained what happened between us and she pretty much asked that I not have contact with you anymore (understandable from her point of view). So this is the reasonfor my disappearing act.

I apologize for not being up front and just letting you know when it happened. I hope you don't hate me, it was not my intention to play games with you or disrespect you in any way. I guess all I can really say is that I apologize, and I hope that you accept.

NotTutorBoy"

Rabid Pussy

The Game Warden just came to investigate what may have been a rabid cat near my house. Sadly, this possibly-rabid cat sort of reminded me of myself. Check it...

I was talking with a friend earlier about tomorrow night's plans and we both almost simultaneously expressed our hopes for all the "new, single, hott males" who might be where we are going. It was one step away from foaming at the mouth in anticipation of all the meat we could potentially encounter at the parties and bars.

Lately I've been feeling like I'm on a constant manhunt where I view every situation as one with potential. Not that I don't think that's a good mindset to have, but when I find myself imagining, Ally McBeal style, jumping across counters to attack male prey, I know it's gone a bit far. I haven't progressed to this erratic behavior (yet), but with the severe lack of play I'm getting, coupled with the even more severe lack of potentials in my group of friends, I'm afraid of what my diseased* mind might do.

And let's talk about this extremely severe lack of potentials that has us chicas plagued. The group dynamic has once again shifted and left us with a total cooter fest. I miss the days of yore when I had oodles of guy friends who, in turn, had oodles of guy friends. It's six degrees of guy friends and I miss it dearly. I mean, desperately.

So, like that rabid cat, I need some meat and I'd prefer mine to be in the form of male. And soon, please, because really? the foaming at the mouth can't be attractive.



Too bad the game warden wasn't hot...


*Hey, lack of kissing is a disease in my book!

No time like never

iTunes slipped a real downer into the party shuffle that was driving me through my work tasks. Concentration trained on the tasks at hand, I mentally screeched to a hault when India.Arie's I am ready for love* came on. I realized that, ready or not, I don't have time for love.

The muscle knotted between my shoulder blades and the red blood vessels always visibile in my eyes these days tell of work stress and long days and nights spent working two jobs. There are emails unsent to friends I've been planning to catch up with for months, sick family to worry about in other states, dreams of creative projects and new cities I'm too tired to pursue. I've scheduled and committed myself out of a certain kind of life.

How do you go into a relationship telling someone you can love them on Wednesdays and Fridays but are pretty busy the rest of the week?

Such an incredibly sad realization.

*No judging...it's actually a beautiful song.

Af-KEG-istan

Over the weekend the Nots and I helped everyone celebrate their 21st birthdays all over again. There was a keg, of Yuengling hereby known as "Das Keg."
We only drank about half of it because the party ended early. Because, well, we were hammered. There were keg stands, Never Have I Evers, robot cupcakes, and lots of crazy flirting going on.
But I digress.
What does one do with half a keg? Specifically, half a keg that has been sitting in one of our friends' living rooms since Saturday night, with the tap still in it?

That's right kids, you drink it.

A select number of individuals came to my house last night in order to "Kick the Keg." NotCarrie, me, NotGraceful, NotCurly, and a new person, NotVeryMature (who was invited simply because she had retrieved said keg) sat on my deck, feet on the bucket holding the keg and played games like Chug the Jug, Flip Cup, and Beer Pong. The beer was slightly flat, but still tasted alright, especially once it was chilled enough. The sky darkened early, especially for 7pm, when we started on Das Keg. It was 9pm when we were drunk off our asses, smoking 15 cigarettes at a time and taking inappropriate pictures. At a certain point in the evening, NotVeryMature decided to start throwing up everywhere and spent the rest of the evening either in my bathroom or leaning over the balcony, spewing her brains out. Lightweight.

Beer drunk is completely different, in my opinion, than liquor drunk. I got a buzz a helluva lot faster than when I drink my staple rum & coke and it seems to stay with me a lot longer. As the pictures proved, our inhibitions ran rampant as we viewed photos of pantless, boxer-clad skinny boys, massively close group hugs, and artsy shots of Das Keg at varying angles and exposures.

I wish I could say the rest of the evening was uneventful, but it wasn't. Most everyone left around midnight and after shoving the empty keg into NotVeryMature's car and saying goodbye to everyone, I found myself across the street, walking my dog and having a very interesting phone conversation with NotGraceful. After going to his house and having NotVM follow him home, he calls me and for the next 15 minutes we discuss reasons as to why he should come over.
He finally does, after saying "You'd better be ready to do whatever I want..." pretty much like he does every time.
This, of course, excites me in my drunken stupor and I try not to fall asleep while I wait for him to come over.
He finally does and we make idle chatter in my basement, watching random reality television, then he turns to me, pulls me on top of him and proceeds to...
I'll leave details out, but it was good and I was satisfied (and we didn't bone). I backed off of him and see that he's still ready for something good so I help him out a little manually.
This appears to upset him, so I ask what he wants me to do. He sputters the word "mouth" and I start to balk. I associate oral sex with "taking it to the next level," aka "being more intimate than laying vertical on a couch with the lights on."
He notices this. Proceeds to get perturbed.
He then goes on a tangent, spouting out sentences that really made me glad I hadn't gone for it. He says things that include "you're so young" and "what do you want, a relationship?" and my personal favorite, "I guess this makes me an asshole then, huh?"
This was all said with half closed eyes, still laying on the couch, pants unzipped and belt on the floor.
All I can do is shake my head at him. He gets up, gathers his belongings, and pretty much storms out of my house.
Leaving his guitar. If any of you have a use for an acoustic guitar missing the top string, let me know. Or, if you have any good ideas as to how I could dispose of it, let me know as well.

I know some of you are like "jeez, finally NotCharlotte, you learned your lesson!"
I think my Not ladies understand my predicament, and why I kept coming back to him for late night rendezvous. Hell, I had even made out with him on NotCurly's deck the weekend before.

But no more! I need to stop analyzing it over and over again and just drop it. I would say I'd do the "out of sight, out of mind" thing, however we both hang out with the same people and the next few weeks provide plenty of opportunity for interpersonal exchanges that involve alcohol, getting drunk, and celebrating graduations.

I think the only way to resolve this is for me to get really drunk and punch him.

Good to the last drop

It's that last drink that does always does me in. We threw a birthday party for the masses yesterday, and that last drink sealed my fate. Rum and vodka running through my veins fueled my enthusiasm for the arrival of NotBeast. Perhaps I wouldn't have been an enthralled had he not looked so damn good. Sadly, as I opened the door to invite him in and and grasped the red solo life preserver, memories start to cloud. I just know that it wasn't yet 1:00 am and NotBeast had probably been there less than 30 minutes when we were headed out into the night air together.

I awoke this morning in my bed, clothes strewn across my bedroom floor and new bruises on my body.

Damn that last drink.

Love Rhymes with Hideous Car Wreck

Ah, the weather's been gorgeous outside. Everyone's been in fairly decent moods.
Spring has sprung, everyone. Sound the alarms! Alert the media! Get married!

Wait, what?

Yeah, spring. Time for blue skies, birds chirping, graduations, and weddings. Two of my friends are getting married this summer. One of them I've known since high school. She's like my little sister and it's going to be so weird that she's getting married before I do. The other is a couple I set up a few years ago. I'm closer to the groom than the bride, but I'm happy that they're getting married because they're perfect for each other. The group that's going to be at the latter wedding is the "crew" i used to hang out with, including my ex. This means that when I do attend this wedding, I will be judged. It's a long story.

This in turn means that I need to take someone with me that will not only help me "show them up," but that I will have a good time with.

This is where you guys come in. I am hereby asking all of you wonderful people that read this blog, to help me find wedding dates! I need a guy that's got a sense of humor that matches mine, so when we sit at one of the tables and I start talking about people, they will laugh deeply at my jokes and not think my judgement is offensive... even when it is. They must have a suit, be taller than 5'10", and be able to clean up pretty nice.

Is that asking too much? I'd put out a craigslist ad, but I'm not that desperate yet. If you've got someone in mind, or would like to offer yourself up, email me!

Getting schooled

Thanks for all of your comments on the NotTutorboy situation. I have to tell you how shocked I am that this seems a fairly common occurrence. I guess I'm just glad it took 31 years to happen to me. ; )

It turns out NotTutorboy isn't dead. Go figure. On Thursday afternoon I get an email that goes something like this:

NotMiranda,

I just wanted to see how you're doing. I know I've been MIA for a week. How are things?

NotTuturboy

Really? My first thought was you've got to be fucking kidding me. Later that evening guess who shows up at the bookstore to tutor looking waaaaay too good. I proceeded to ignore him as best as possible and made sure to be unavailable* when his tutoring session ended. Friday morning I got to work and crafted my response.

NotTutorboy,

I'm good.

I'm a pretty laidback, chill** girl, but what you did (the lack of email or voicemail response when we had plans) was a pretty shitty thing to do. You pursued me, so what happened? Girlfriend? Something changed? You tell me.

NotMiranda

It's been almost a week since I sent that email and no response. He showed up for tutoring again last night and gave me the smile/wave. Again, I ask what the fuck. I waved back thinking 'screw you' in my head. It pisses me off that he looks so good when he comes in and that all that good chemistry is going to waste. Honestly, though, what gets me the most is that I didn't see it coming. I'm usually known for being able to read people. To be proven so wrong kind of knocks the wind out of a girl's sails.


*I was also extremely tipsy thanks to a between job happy hour that resulted from a stressful work day and that email.
**And I was in this case. I was making no promises and asking for no commitments. I was Ms. Go-with-the-Flow.

Can you hear me now?

Growing up, I'd start collections of things. I collected keychains, stamps, anything that had to do with "Starry Night," those damn beanie babies, and even different kinds of pens and/or pencils.
I have boxes upon boxes of collections in storage.

Recently I've been collecting something a bit more.... adult. I've been collecting men's phone numbers.

Thursday evening during my poetry workshop, one of the guys in class grabbed my phone during our break and before I knew it, typed his number onto the screen and handed it back to me so i could save him as a contact.

Friday I went into the bakery I used to work at and one of the hot managers got my phone number so he could call me the next time they all went out for a drink after work.

Saturday night I was asked for my phone number by a cute guy my friend and I met whilst attending Mousetrap at the Black Cat. I consider this a part of my collection because while I didn't get his phone number, I will soon have it when he calls me back.


I think this is a good time to pimp out Mousetrap. Last night I decided to go pure hipster and wore a tight black pinstripe skirt, a black scoop neck top and some red 4 inch heels with white polka dots on them. I also decided to try out some red lipstick. My friend and usual Mousetrap co-goer decided to wear a short bright red dress and black shoes. It could have been the fact that we kind of matched, but I also believe it was the fact that we were naturally hott, but the entire night we were inundated with stares/accidental touches/conversations with everyone.
Mousetrap is the perfect place to meet people. There is no right way to dance to the type of music they play, so even if you suck at rhythm, chances are you aren't the only one. One of the most recent requirements for attending Mousetrap is the ability to clap. We started numerous clapathons throughout the course of the evening and we even decided to one day "go pro" with our "A-clap-ella" routine.

It's the second Saturday of every month. If you're lucky, maybe you'll run into one of us if you decide to go ;-)

what the fuck

Because really the title couldn't sum up this entire series of events better. NotTutorBoy is gone. He has completely disappeared from the face of the earth. You'll remember last Wednesday's chemistry experiment that had me risking extreme exhibitionism and him uttering "you're so fucking sexy." Things were good. I got out of his car with him talking about how he couldn't wait to see me on Saturday. Saturday was the promise of mad, hot sex. You'll also remember that he pursued me for almost two months before finally asking me out, and then we had to wait another three weeks for our schedules to mesh.

Why go to all of this trouble, giving absolutely no negative signs only to disappear like Houdini? Even if he was only in it for the sex*, he was pretty much guaranteed sex on Saturday, so why bail before the big payoff?

I email him on Friday to tell him about my plans for Saturday and tell him he needs to let me know when he wants to meet up. No response on Friday, but I'm not too worried. I figure we're all busy at work, right? Saturday rolls around, and I continued on with my plans for the day assuming he would call at some point. Nothing. Absofuckinglutely nothing. By Saturday evening I was at the bar with the girls and some other guys and definitely disappointed**. I leave a voicemail on Sunday evening to find out what has changed. No response. Nothing on Monday. Tuesday is tutoring day, and he doesn't show. Nothing. He has vanished, and I can't figure out why.

Ah well...not enough time to form a serious attachment. We've decided he must have died. Sucks for him.


*And for someone only in it for nookie, he sure worked really hard to get it and is definitely someone who could be getting it plenty of other places.

**We won't even get into the sexual frustration.

I think I need a wife...

I've come to the conclusion that if I'm not going to get married anytime soon, I should look into getting a wife. Now, before the feminists and misogynists and any other -ists I've forgotten, get all up in arms, know that I'm not looking specifically for someone female, rather, I'm looking for someone to fill that traditionally female-characterized role.

I didn't come to this end easily. However, the more I think about it, the more sense it makes. I work two jobs, have a somewhat thriving social circle (when I'm not hiding from it) and find that I have little, if any time to take care of things at home. Doing laundry, making my breakfast, lunch and dinner for the week.

This was made even more glaringly obvious when I spent the night over at NotDippy and NotANinja's home after viewing the cherry blossom's in DC. NotDippy writes and thus works from home and one of the last things she mentioned to me that night was that the coffeemaker was all set up and all that needed to happen was for me to plug it in the next morning and presto, I would have coffee. The next morning made this a moot point, since by the time I had rolled out of bed, put on my clothes and done my makeup, she had risen, turned on the pot and made me oatmeal (and none of that instant crap either). To which I told her I needed her as a wife and her response was to laugh.

I'm a believer in roles for people. While I would probably make awful housewife material (not a fan of cleaning, hate to do laundry, etc.), I make a great worker bee. Some people are suited to the role that I can't fulfill and I see no reason not to let people do the role they feel comfortable with.

I want to go to work and come home knowing that the house is clean, there is food on the table, clean underwear in my drawer and that I didn't have to spend an entire day doing this to get to that point. Someone else, who finds this type of work both satisfying and fulfilling did. I will in turn go to work and earn the money to keep the house clean and buy the groceries that will materialize into food and purchase the cleaning products that will be used to make my home worth living in.

Which brings me back to the present. I think I need a wife. While I am not particular about physical characteristics they must love housework and cooking and be able to provide color commentary when I bitch about the kids outside making noise again. Anybody takers?

Geheimnisse

Last night started with secrets. I went to my friends apartment and we left for the bar earlier than usual. I didn't think anything of it until we made a right turn instead of a left one, away from where we were supposed to be headed. I hate it when things are kept from me, and my friends decided not to tell me where we were going until I figured it out myself. I had a funny feeling about the whole night, and this wasn't helping my mood at all.
We finally arrived at our destination; apparently we were picking up the guy that I hooked up with last weekend, yeah the hickey guy.
I have no idea why they decided to not tell me we were picking him up. It's not like it was a big deal and it just added stress to the situation.
Anyway, we get to the bar and hang out for awhile. No one drank much, there was a 'bar conflict' between two of our friends that resulted in a knocked over beer and lots of stares from other barmates.
After that we went to a friend of a friend's house for their birthday party. We drank a lot of strawbery flavored alcohols and left early to head to another friends' house. Once there, a couple of us proceeded to drink more.
Our ride decided to leave and we all went with her. I decided to sober up at my other friends' house while the other took the guy home. I didn't think much of it until I got another weird feeling. After some cryptic text messages I find out that he invited her into his house. This absolutely crushed me, not only because he's a bastard but because I wouldn't have found out about it if I hadn't have asked. After that I drove home still slightly intoxicated, which I do not recommend for anyone. Luckily the ride was short and I was pretty much the only one on the road.
Secrets. I hate them. Some people think they're just looking out for me, but in all honesty I'd rather have the full on truth then to keep going, naiively believing things are a-ok. I got pissed last night because I deal with the two of them flirting, but in the back of my mind I'm afraid something will happen.
It's not like this guy and I are even dating, but still, shouldn't your friends' crush be off limits? I don't flirt with the guys she likes. I know we're all horny women that just want to hook up with someone, but still.
All I ask is that people be honest with me. I hate being left out. All my life I've had situations like this, where secrets are kept, or information excluded from the stories given to me. I thought that I had grown out of it, grown older and hung out with people that I could trust to give me the straight story. At this point though, I guess I should be used to it.


Edit: I guess I should have been more clear... she did not take him up on his offer, however the rest of the story and my feelings are still the same.

Drive fast, speed turns me on

Last night was date #2* with the new guy. NotTutorBoy** met me at the bookstore around 7, and I'll be damned if he didn't look good. We took off for the local pool hall where I promptly lost two games in a row. Sadly, despite my best efforts, my mind was so not on the pool game. The chemistry we share is pretty fucking undeniable. I'm not sure if it's meant to cloud the mind, and I really don't care. I can just say that 30 minutes into the date and my goal of keeping this date on the tame side had evaporated. All day had been spent overthinking and battling my internal demons, and in just few short minutes, I had clarity. Go with the flow and have fun won out over obsessive and have fun is exactly what I did.

There is a very bold, forward side to my personality, and she kind of took over last night. I get high tempting fate, living on the edge***. I must have been high on whatever that chemical is that fuels our sex drive because I bloody tap danced all over that edge last night. Road head barreling down I-66 as I accidentally kept slipping the car into neutral...pressed up against the car with the wind adding to the atmosphere...parked between school buses and witnessing what has to be the fastest leap from the back seat to the front seat all the while starting the car to avoid security...windows completely fogged over.

All of that and I still didn't have sex with him. He says I'm torturous. We're hanging out Saturday, and I think it's time to end the stand off ; )


*Yes, I'm calling it a date despite what you heathens might think!

**I figure he deserves a name. Thanks, NotCarrie. : )

***Hello...this is the girl who wants to live in Africa. Haha.

Your Bruise

I've got three bits of random information for you lovelies.

1. Firstly, I'm back from Louisville. I went there to help run a conference for my job. It went extremely well and I'm more pumped than ever to be in the job field that I'm currently in, granted there were 15 hour workdays and I'm still not caught up on sleep... especially after last night.
   
2. The guy I wrote to last week wrote me back the day after. He said that he thought we'd really get along too, but he was in a relationship already. It made me sad, but it didn't hurt to ask. It also made me wonder if I had written him a day, week, or month earlier like I had wanted to, would the answer had been different?
3. Last night I got a mad ass make out session. It was really nice and I will perhaps explain the situation a bit later. This morning, after dropping him off at his car, I went up to my bathroom to prepare for bed and I happened to glance in the mirror... only to find a hickey the size of New Jersey (or two golf balls) on the part of my body where my shoulder meets my neck. I guess the 90s are back in style, but do we really have to bring 9th grade back? I'm just happy that it's on a part of my neck that I can easily cover with higher necked t-shirts.

That's all I've got for right now. I could actually elaborate on all three stories, but that would make this blog too long, plus leave me without material for about a week. Happy April everyone!

P.S. Just to play it safe, none of these are an April Fool's joke.

UPDATE: According to NotMiranda, the guy from #3 apparently has a hickey of his own...