I wish I had updated about Alabaster. Maybe I will, someday; maybe I won't. At any rate, he came over, we hooked up, it was great, and it faded into nothing, much as it had before.
Quite a bit has happened recently.
I quit my job. Because of that, there's a good chance that I won't see Alabaster again. We'll see what happens.
Anyways, I like my new job.
After a few days at my new job, I knew the truth: I would not do anybody here.
That made me so happy! That door cah-lozes! I wouldn't have to worry about work awkwardness.
That was, until this week. He's not a part of our office. He's one of our clients. We work together, but we don't.
Um....
If you find someone cute....and you guys make plans to hit the clubs together....do you think that you would be able to control yourself?
I don't know.
I don't trust myself. I've never trusted myself. I know myself, and I know that as soon as I have a few drinks in me, I will throw myself at him. He has a girlfriend. Either something unforgivable will happen or I'll end up embarrassed. THIS WILL NOT END WELL.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Sexy Texts with Alabaster
I've written a good amount about Alabaster. He is a coworker of mine who recently became one of my supervisors -- though not my direct supervisor. He made sure of that by telling HIS supervisor that he couldn't have me on his team because we have a "pre-existing personal relationship."
We hooked up three times about a year ago. Each time was wonderful. Then never again. In retrospect, I think it was a combination of things, but mostly that neither one of us wanted to be the one to make the move to initiate things again.
In the past year, we didn't see each other much, though I quite often drunk texted him. I'm very attracted to him, and he's always been in the back of my mind, though I haven't always admitted it to myself.
Like on New Year's Eve, when I started flirtatiously texting him even though I was in a relationship with the Hott Waiter -- a relationship that had only officially begun (initiated by him, of course, and blissfully agreed to by me and then confirmed on Facebook) a few days beforehand.
I was so embarrassed after that night, I immediately deleted every message exchanged between the two of us.
I ignored Alabaster for a while after that. Then the Hott Waiter and I broke up a few weeks later -- now a few months ago.
Then things started getting flirtatious again.
More tipsy texting. (Am I starting to drink too much?) He told me that "pre-existing personal relationship" thing. Then one day at work, I spent a while talking with him about Las Vegas (he goes there often) and Miranda and I both actually called him later that night to further discuss the hotel where we should stay and tried to convince him to come to Vegas the same weekend as us in June.
On Sunday night, I went over to my friend Emelia's house. She works with me and Alabaster, and she lives in the neighborhood adjacent to his -- I'm about a 20-minute drive from either. Emelia and I are very close and she has heard TONS about my history and feelings for Alabaster.
While watching House reruns, my phone vibrated with a text message. I opened my phone and my mouth fell open. I looked at Emelia.
"Alabaster?" she said.
"Yes!" I gasped. My heart raced. So few people can do that to me.
Alabaster: "[Your hairstyle] is intense"
(I had changed my Facebook status to "Samantha has [a crazy hairstyle]" and I had imported a note with an image of my hair and makeup look from the night before, the night during which I tried to make myself look nice for Nature Boy or any other prospective hookup.)
Me: "It's still pretty big"
Alabaster: "thats funny...are you going to try to maintain the look?"
Me: "Well, i see i have a fan!"
Alabaster: "Hahaha...i think i have to see it in person before i would consider myself a fan"
Thus began the texts. He was at the movies. Emelia and I squealed with each incoming text message. The messages were spaced out every couple of minutes, but I tried to wait longer than he did!
At one point, I became so nervous about the meaning of these messages that I became nauseated and started shaking. I begged Emelia for a piece of organic fruit; she brought me soy milk and crackers. That did help.
At one point I told him that I was amused that he was texting random work people while at the movies.
Alabaster: "i also love that you refered to yourself as a random [work person]"
Me: "Not so random, eh?"
Alabaster: "Not so much"
The movie would be ending around 12:15 AM, so I told him to give me a call when he got out. He told me he would.
Emelia and I started screaming.
To be continued....
We hooked up three times about a year ago. Each time was wonderful. Then never again. In retrospect, I think it was a combination of things, but mostly that neither one of us wanted to be the one to make the move to initiate things again.
In the past year, we didn't see each other much, though I quite often drunk texted him. I'm very attracted to him, and he's always been in the back of my mind, though I haven't always admitted it to myself.
Like on New Year's Eve, when I started flirtatiously texting him even though I was in a relationship with the Hott Waiter -- a relationship that had only officially begun (initiated by him, of course, and blissfully agreed to by me and then confirmed on Facebook) a few days beforehand.
I was so embarrassed after that night, I immediately deleted every message exchanged between the two of us.
I ignored Alabaster for a while after that. Then the Hott Waiter and I broke up a few weeks later -- now a few months ago.
Then things started getting flirtatious again.
More tipsy texting. (Am I starting to drink too much?) He told me that "pre-existing personal relationship" thing. Then one day at work, I spent a while talking with him about Las Vegas (he goes there often) and Miranda and I both actually called him later that night to further discuss the hotel where we should stay and tried to convince him to come to Vegas the same weekend as us in June.
On Sunday night, I went over to my friend Emelia's house. She works with me and Alabaster, and she lives in the neighborhood adjacent to his -- I'm about a 20-minute drive from either. Emelia and I are very close and she has heard TONS about my history and feelings for Alabaster.
While watching House reruns, my phone vibrated with a text message. I opened my phone and my mouth fell open. I looked at Emelia.
"Alabaster?" she said.
"Yes!" I gasped. My heart raced. So few people can do that to me.
Alabaster: "[Your hairstyle] is intense"
(I had changed my Facebook status to "Samantha has [a crazy hairstyle]" and I had imported a note with an image of my hair and makeup look from the night before, the night during which I tried to make myself look nice for Nature Boy or any other prospective hookup.)
Me: "It's still pretty big"
Alabaster: "thats funny...are you going to try to maintain the look?"
Me: "Well, i see i have a fan!"
Alabaster: "Hahaha...i think i have to see it in person before i would consider myself a fan"
Thus began the texts. He was at the movies. Emelia and I squealed with each incoming text message. The messages were spaced out every couple of minutes, but I tried to wait longer than he did!
At one point, I became so nervous about the meaning of these messages that I became nauseated and started shaking. I begged Emelia for a piece of organic fruit; she brought me soy milk and crackers. That did help.
At one point I told him that I was amused that he was texting random work people while at the movies.
Alabaster: "i also love that you refered to yourself as a random [work person]"
Me: "Not so random, eh?"
Alabaster: "Not so much"
The movie would be ending around 12:15 AM, so I told him to give me a call when he got out. He told me he would.
Emelia and I started screaming.
To be continued....
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Failed Booty Call Attempt
On Saturday night, as I arrived at the bar downtown, I was in a mood. A horny mood, I guess, for lack of a better term.
At any rate, I WANTED TO HOOK UP.
The day before, I had been exchanging text messages with a former coworker. He is tall and blonde, well built, from a very rural U.S. state and likely of Scandinavian descent. I need a nickname for him.
Nature Boy. He LOVES the outdoors.
Nature Boy and I didn't work in close proximity, but we had gotten into the habit of walking to the nearest public transit station, about a ten-minute walk. We had become good friends during that time -- I even told him about when I hooked up with Alabaster.
I knew that he was new in the city, having moved here from his rural state to be with his girlfriend of a few months, a girl he had met at a summer job in a national park. She was a college senior (this was our first winter after college) at the college right down the street from my apartment.
Oh -- also, we share the same birthday. Which I found special.
I always assumed that he and his girlfriend wouldn't last. Though he wasn't really my type (I'm not into blonde guys, and he had a VERY slight, strange effeminate quality to him -- I assume it's because of where he is from), there was a chemistry that we had.
He quit his job early last spring, about a year ago, and I had only seen him a few times since. We kept in touch via Facebook. He and his girlfriend broke up over the summer. At least I was right about that.
There were two moments of heavy flirtation between us.
The first was his farewell party at the bar the day he quit, about a year ago. He was still with his girlfriend at the time, but she wasn't at the table. After quite a few beers and shots, I whipped out my phone to text (I'm the worst drunk texter) and he grabbed me. We were walking to the next bar.
"Are you doing a booty call?" he said, grabbing the phone out of my hand. "Are you texting Alabaster? You are, aren't you?"
"No!" I shrieked. I dove for the phone and snatched it out of his grip. I then took off like a bat out of hell.
Nature Boy ran after me and threw his arms around me, clamping my arms down. He then stopped trying to grab the phone and just held me from behind. "Sam, if you're doing a booty call, it better be with me," he said into my ear.
I broke away. "You really shouldn't say that."
We then got to another bar and Alabaster wasn't there, and then I drank tequila and that was a very, very bad idea indeed....
The other time, over the summer and after he and his girlfriend had broken up, we were at a bar with a few friends and somehow ended up holding hands. He left shortly after that. Nothing else happened.
So, here we go:
This past Saturday night:
Nature Boy and I texted each other several times. Here are a few excerpts:
Nature Boy: "how have you been samantha?"
Me: "Great! [job news]! how have you been?"
Nature Boy: "Glad to hear that, we should hang out sometime soon"
Me: "I concur. it has been far too long since we did something."
Nature Boy: "Yes, i've missed you"
A few minutes later after more small talk:
Nature Boy: "Going out to the new bar in [neighborhood kind of far from me] that replaced [the bar where I first went with Alabaster the time we first hooked up] - out of your way, but if you're in the area"
Me: "[the bar where I first went with Alabaster the time we first hooked up] closed? headed to [downtown lounge] in [downtown neighborhood] tonight. with [work] people!"
We talked a bit more. After checking with his friend:
Nature Boy: "Looks like i'll see you tonight"
Yes!
I felt like it was going to actually happen with Nature Boy this time. I did my heavy-duty primping: in addition to the full-body shave that I do just in case I end up hooking up with someone, I also used my special moisturizer, wore the good perfume, pulled out all the stops on my makeup and hair.
I had been planning to meet up with several of my female friends from work, and I did. I figured the guys would arrive later. I immediately sucked down one martini and ordered a second.
And the guys arrived: Nature Boy and a mutual former coworker of ours. It was great. No hugs in greeting, but lots of great conversation.
We talked for a long time, the three of us floating around to the other groups. There were about 12 of us altogether, and we kept having conversations with different groups.
At one point, my friend "Nadia" (she's appeared in earlier entries regarding the Hott Waiter) pulled me aside.
"Sam, he has a girlfriend."
"Fuck fuck fuck fuck," I replied. "No wonder he was just looking for friendship on Facebook."
"Yeah, he's with Gisele." Gisele? That was an odd couple. Gisele is a dancer who used to work with both of us, but had left quite a long time ago. There's my job for you. One big incestuous family.
I went back to Nature Boy and talked to him in a new light -- he was just a friend. And I had to push the threesome fantasies involving him and his friend out of my head. And the guys then returned to their neighborhood, presumably to hang out with more people from our work, but I refused the invitation.
At any rate, I still had to hook up with someone -- anyone!
The few attractive guys at the lounge had dispersed. I lamented my cause to my friends, who nodded sympathetically and at least attempted to humor me.
Then they decided to leave.
WTF?! The night was YOUNG! I was only two martinis into the evening!
As we waited in the nearby station, I contemplated going to one of my neighborhood bars, then realized that it would make me look like an alcoholic and/or prostitute.
WAIT! THE BUSKER!
I told my friends that I don't know why I hadn't thought of the Busker! I was really attracted to him and didn't see him as relationship material, so he would be perfect.
I texted him: "Hey -- i'm in the mood to hook up tonight. are you?"
A few minutes later: "ha- thats such a hot text. Yes but im in bed kind of sick"
FUCK.
Some texts and a convo later, I learned that he was sick in bed but "recovering." At that point, I just got annoyed. "Are you sick or not?" I asked. "Is this going to happen or not? Just tell me. Okay. I'm guessing it's a no."
"Yeah..." he said sheepishly. I didn't like his tone. Awkward city. "I'm sorry. Sweet dreams. Hehehehehe."
Sweet dreams?
Damn. Well, it's hard having interest in him anymore. I went to bed, defeated.
Little did I know that the next night I would end up fulfilling one of my deepest desires.
At any rate, I WANTED TO HOOK UP.
The day before, I had been exchanging text messages with a former coworker. He is tall and blonde, well built, from a very rural U.S. state and likely of Scandinavian descent. I need a nickname for him.
Nature Boy. He LOVES the outdoors.
Nature Boy and I didn't work in close proximity, but we had gotten into the habit of walking to the nearest public transit station, about a ten-minute walk. We had become good friends during that time -- I even told him about when I hooked up with Alabaster.
I knew that he was new in the city, having moved here from his rural state to be with his girlfriend of a few months, a girl he had met at a summer job in a national park. She was a college senior (this was our first winter after college) at the college right down the street from my apartment.
Oh -- also, we share the same birthday. Which I found special.
I always assumed that he and his girlfriend wouldn't last. Though he wasn't really my type (I'm not into blonde guys, and he had a VERY slight, strange effeminate quality to him -- I assume it's because of where he is from), there was a chemistry that we had.
He quit his job early last spring, about a year ago, and I had only seen him a few times since. We kept in touch via Facebook. He and his girlfriend broke up over the summer. At least I was right about that.
There were two moments of heavy flirtation between us.
The first was his farewell party at the bar the day he quit, about a year ago. He was still with his girlfriend at the time, but she wasn't at the table. After quite a few beers and shots, I whipped out my phone to text (I'm the worst drunk texter) and he grabbed me. We were walking to the next bar.
"Are you doing a booty call?" he said, grabbing the phone out of my hand. "Are you texting Alabaster? You are, aren't you?"
"No!" I shrieked. I dove for the phone and snatched it out of his grip. I then took off like a bat out of hell.
Nature Boy ran after me and threw his arms around me, clamping my arms down. He then stopped trying to grab the phone and just held me from behind. "Sam, if you're doing a booty call, it better be with me," he said into my ear.
I broke away. "You really shouldn't say that."
We then got to another bar and Alabaster wasn't there, and then I drank tequila and that was a very, very bad idea indeed....
The other time, over the summer and after he and his girlfriend had broken up, we were at a bar with a few friends and somehow ended up holding hands. He left shortly after that. Nothing else happened.
So, here we go:
This past Saturday night:
Nature Boy and I texted each other several times. Here are a few excerpts:
Nature Boy: "how have you been samantha?"
Me: "Great! [job news]! how have you been?"
Nature Boy: "Glad to hear that, we should hang out sometime soon"
Me: "I concur. it has been far too long since we did something."
Nature Boy: "Yes, i've missed you"
A few minutes later after more small talk:
Nature Boy: "Going out to the new bar in [neighborhood kind of far from me] that replaced [the bar where I first went with Alabaster the time we first hooked up] - out of your way, but if you're in the area"
Me: "[the bar where I first went with Alabaster the time we first hooked up] closed? headed to [downtown lounge] in [downtown neighborhood] tonight. with [work] people!"
We talked a bit more. After checking with his friend:
Nature Boy: "Looks like i'll see you tonight"
Yes!
I felt like it was going to actually happen with Nature Boy this time. I did my heavy-duty primping: in addition to the full-body shave that I do just in case I end up hooking up with someone, I also used my special moisturizer, wore the good perfume, pulled out all the stops on my makeup and hair.
I had been planning to meet up with several of my female friends from work, and I did. I figured the guys would arrive later. I immediately sucked down one martini and ordered a second.
And the guys arrived: Nature Boy and a mutual former coworker of ours. It was great. No hugs in greeting, but lots of great conversation.
We talked for a long time, the three of us floating around to the other groups. There were about 12 of us altogether, and we kept having conversations with different groups.
At one point, my friend "Nadia" (she's appeared in earlier entries regarding the Hott Waiter) pulled me aside.
"Sam, he has a girlfriend."
"Fuck fuck fuck fuck," I replied. "No wonder he was just looking for friendship on Facebook."
"Yeah, he's with Gisele." Gisele? That was an odd couple. Gisele is a dancer who used to work with both of us, but had left quite a long time ago. There's my job for you. One big incestuous family.
I went back to Nature Boy and talked to him in a new light -- he was just a friend. And I had to push the threesome fantasies involving him and his friend out of my head. And the guys then returned to their neighborhood, presumably to hang out with more people from our work, but I refused the invitation.
At any rate, I still had to hook up with someone -- anyone!
The few attractive guys at the lounge had dispersed. I lamented my cause to my friends, who nodded sympathetically and at least attempted to humor me.
Then they decided to leave.
WTF?! The night was YOUNG! I was only two martinis into the evening!
As we waited in the nearby station, I contemplated going to one of my neighborhood bars, then realized that it would make me look like an alcoholic and/or prostitute.
WAIT! THE BUSKER!
I told my friends that I don't know why I hadn't thought of the Busker! I was really attracted to him and didn't see him as relationship material, so he would be perfect.
I texted him: "Hey -- i'm in the mood to hook up tonight. are you?"
A few minutes later: "ha- thats such a hot text. Yes but im in bed kind of sick"
FUCK.
Some texts and a convo later, I learned that he was sick in bed but "recovering." At that point, I just got annoyed. "Are you sick or not?" I asked. "Is this going to happen or not? Just tell me. Okay. I'm guessing it's a no."
"Yeah..." he said sheepishly. I didn't like his tone. Awkward city. "I'm sorry. Sweet dreams. Hehehehehe."
Sweet dreams?
Damn. Well, it's hard having interest in him anymore. I went to bed, defeated.
Little did I know that the next night I would end up fulfilling one of my deepest desires.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Just friends -- finally
Tonight, the Cowboy and I hung out, our first date in the two weeks since the catastrophe of me visiting him at his home.
I always knew that this was the time to bring up what had been bothering me for around a month or more:
He's a great guy. We have a blast hanging out together. But I just don't feel it romantically with him. Maybe it's because there's too much friendship. Or maybe it's just because he's too short -- we are the same height, which is average for a girl and short for a guy.
Tonight we went to what we thought was going to be a funny play, but ended up being a strange and mostly unfunny one-man show. Then we went to a local bar in a distinct neighborhood of our city that had a good mix of college students and older townies.
After having our first beer, a guy in his late 40s or so sat down next to the Cowboy. We started chatting about gambling, of all things. Then he asked the significant question out of the blue:
"How long have you guys been seeing each other?"
"We're not," the Cowboy said immediately. Wow. I was surprised. This clearly wouldn't be nearly as hard as I thought. "We're just buddies."
We talked for longer, then left the bar. On the way back, I knew I had to talk to him.
A bit buzzed from our beers, we walked all the way back without touching (as always), but as soon as we got into his car, he made the familiar reach to the back of my neck, and I had to say something.
"Wait," I said. "What was up with what you said to that guy?"
"Well, I just said that to defuse the situation," he said. "He just said that so he could find out if you were single."
Shit. I guess it would be harder than I thought.
"I like you," he continued. "I'd like to see more of you. I have a great time with you."
"Well..." I couldn't look at him. I kept my eyes down. "I just think that while we get along great as friends, and we have awesome friendship chemistry, I just don't think that we have great romantic chemistry."
He was blank. "Okay."
"I don't want to hurt you," I said, looking him in the eyes. "I really don't. I have the best time hanging out with you. It's just that chemistry sometimes can't be explained. I mean, I've ended up with some pretty weird people because of chemistry." Namely, ALABASTER.
"I just thought that you and I had this cool thing," he said. "I mean, I thought that you and I could be buddy-buddy and then go and hook up. I thought it was the best of both worlds. Maybe that's just me being a typical guy, wanting to hook up."
We talked for a long time. He's been hurt before, and because of that, he's been wary of getting into a formal relationship. I told him how much I had been hurt by the Hott Waiter and how it has been so hard to admit that.
We ended our super-long conversation with a hug and a kiss on the cheek (me to him). I kept reiterating that I wanted us to hang out again. "If you're cool with it, I'm cool with it," he said.
I hope that we do end up hanging out again, because he is a really great guy.
I always knew that this was the time to bring up what had been bothering me for around a month or more:
He's a great guy. We have a blast hanging out together. But I just don't feel it romantically with him. Maybe it's because there's too much friendship. Or maybe it's just because he's too short -- we are the same height, which is average for a girl and short for a guy.
Tonight we went to what we thought was going to be a funny play, but ended up being a strange and mostly unfunny one-man show. Then we went to a local bar in a distinct neighborhood of our city that had a good mix of college students and older townies.
After having our first beer, a guy in his late 40s or so sat down next to the Cowboy. We started chatting about gambling, of all things. Then he asked the significant question out of the blue:
"How long have you guys been seeing each other?"
"We're not," the Cowboy said immediately. Wow. I was surprised. This clearly wouldn't be nearly as hard as I thought. "We're just buddies."
We talked for longer, then left the bar. On the way back, I knew I had to talk to him.
A bit buzzed from our beers, we walked all the way back without touching (as always), but as soon as we got into his car, he made the familiar reach to the back of my neck, and I had to say something.
"Wait," I said. "What was up with what you said to that guy?"
"Well, I just said that to defuse the situation," he said. "He just said that so he could find out if you were single."
Shit. I guess it would be harder than I thought.
"I like you," he continued. "I'd like to see more of you. I have a great time with you."
"Well..." I couldn't look at him. I kept my eyes down. "I just think that while we get along great as friends, and we have awesome friendship chemistry, I just don't think that we have great romantic chemistry."
He was blank. "Okay."
"I don't want to hurt you," I said, looking him in the eyes. "I really don't. I have the best time hanging out with you. It's just that chemistry sometimes can't be explained. I mean, I've ended up with some pretty weird people because of chemistry." Namely, ALABASTER.
"I just thought that you and I had this cool thing," he said. "I mean, I thought that you and I could be buddy-buddy and then go and hook up. I thought it was the best of both worlds. Maybe that's just me being a typical guy, wanting to hook up."
We talked for a long time. He's been hurt before, and because of that, he's been wary of getting into a formal relationship. I told him how much I had been hurt by the Hott Waiter and how it has been so hard to admit that.
We ended our super-long conversation with a hug and a kiss on the cheek (me to him). I kept reiterating that I wanted us to hang out again. "If you're cool with it, I'm cool with it," he said.
I hope that we do end up hanging out again, because he is a really great guy.
Monday, April 14, 2008
He has a kid, and, the latest
Here is the latest news on the multiple guys I am dating:
1) The Cowboy: We haven't seen each other since the night at his house, but we have talked on the phone a few times.
The situation is the same: I love talking to him and we have AWESOME friendship chemistry. However, I don't feel any desire to be more romantically involved with him. I have to figure out how to tell him how I feel.
2) The Busker. We haven't talked since that one time we went out, but he emailed me (though I didn't respond), thenI got a bit drunk and texted him with "How YOU doin?" How Joey Tribbiani of me.
We talked a bit this weekend. He revealed that he has a seven-year-old daughter staying with him this week. I've never dated someone with a kid.
3) The Math Guy. This is a guy from college. (He majord in math.) He's a year younger than me and living in our city now. He's always had a slight thing for me. Once during college, things got flirty and I kissed him a few times, then realized it was a mistake when he was trembling and realized it meant more to him than it did to me.
Things have always been moderately flirtatious, but I'm not sure what I want with him.
He keeps asking me to go out with him and get some drinks, and we made plans for the next week. However, he had health problems (??) and asked me to postpone our plans. I'm not that interested in him, but I'd like to hang out with him.
4) Alabaster. The guy from work that I wrote about in a recent entry. This part is major.
In my company, I work for my company's biggest client. The client is so big that we have two divisions: the elite and the not-so-elite. I will call the elite division Division A; the other is Division B.
I was promoted to Division A within a few months. Alabaster was promoted a few months later. Several months after that, he was promoted to a manager of Division B.
(Personally, I find that my company tends to promote straight white guys, a minority within my company, much more than any other group, but that's another topic for another time.)
I found out today that Alabaster was promoted to manager of Division A. That means that he will technically be one of my managers. I will retain my current manager, but she is one of four managers within my division. For that reason, Alabaster, will be one of my bosses.
I wasn't at work today, but I spent time with a very good friend from work, "Emelia," who told me the news. After a few drinks (I had SEVERAL today, and considering that it's Monday, that therefore makes me an alcoholic), I started texting him. As usual.
I texted him congratulations on his new position, and joked that I couldn't believe that he was my new boss. After a few texts, he called me. I was in the bathroom at the time.
As soon as I got back to my seat (after multiple margaritas at a Mexican restaurant, we were tossing back Blue Moons in a total dive bar), Emelia told me that Alabaster had called while I was away. I called him.
He answered.
We talked for several minutes and discussed his new position at work. I congratulated him. He was gracious. And then he totally told me something that I didn't expect. This is as close to verbatim as I can remember:
Alabaster: "I told [my boss and your boss's boss] that I couldn't have you on my team because it was a conflict of interest."
Me: "Are you serious?!"
Alabaster: "Yeah. I told him that we have a 'previous pre-existing relationship.'"
Me: "You told [your boss and my boss's boss] that?! He's so weird! There's one only thing that can mean!"
Alabaster: "Well..."
Look. It has been WELL OVER A YEAR since we hooked up.
That conversation gives me hope that something else could happen. As I always remind myself when it comes to all relationships, If nothing were there, NOTHING WOULD BE THERE.
Something is there.
Therefore, something is there between us.
We'll see what happens.
1) The Cowboy: We haven't seen each other since the night at his house, but we have talked on the phone a few times.
The situation is the same: I love talking to him and we have AWESOME friendship chemistry. However, I don't feel any desire to be more romantically involved with him. I have to figure out how to tell him how I feel.
2) The Busker. We haven't talked since that one time we went out, but he emailed me (though I didn't respond), thenI got a bit drunk and texted him with "How YOU doin?" How Joey Tribbiani of me.
We talked a bit this weekend. He revealed that he has a seven-year-old daughter staying with him this week. I've never dated someone with a kid.
3) The Math Guy. This is a guy from college. (He majord in math.) He's a year younger than me and living in our city now. He's always had a slight thing for me. Once during college, things got flirty and I kissed him a few times, then realized it was a mistake when he was trembling and realized it meant more to him than it did to me.
Things have always been moderately flirtatious, but I'm not sure what I want with him.
He keeps asking me to go out with him and get some drinks, and we made plans for the next week. However, he had health problems (??) and asked me to postpone our plans. I'm not that interested in him, but I'd like to hang out with him.
4) Alabaster. The guy from work that I wrote about in a recent entry. This part is major.
In my company, I work for my company's biggest client. The client is so big that we have two divisions: the elite and the not-so-elite. I will call the elite division Division A; the other is Division B.
I was promoted to Division A within a few months. Alabaster was promoted a few months later. Several months after that, he was promoted to a manager of Division B.
(Personally, I find that my company tends to promote straight white guys, a minority within my company, much more than any other group, but that's another topic for another time.)
I found out today that Alabaster was promoted to manager of Division A. That means that he will technically be one of my managers. I will retain my current manager, but she is one of four managers within my division. For that reason, Alabaster, will be one of my bosses.
I wasn't at work today, but I spent time with a very good friend from work, "Emelia," who told me the news. After a few drinks (I had SEVERAL today, and considering that it's Monday, that therefore makes me an alcoholic), I started texting him. As usual.
I texted him congratulations on his new position, and joked that I couldn't believe that he was my new boss. After a few texts, he called me. I was in the bathroom at the time.
As soon as I got back to my seat (after multiple margaritas at a Mexican restaurant, we were tossing back Blue Moons in a total dive bar), Emelia told me that Alabaster had called while I was away. I called him.
He answered.
We talked for several minutes and discussed his new position at work. I congratulated him. He was gracious. And then he totally told me something that I didn't expect. This is as close to verbatim as I can remember:
Alabaster: "I told [my boss and your boss's boss] that I couldn't have you on my team because it was a conflict of interest."
Me: "Are you serious?!"
Alabaster: "Yeah. I told him that we have a 'previous pre-existing relationship.'"
Me: "You told [your boss and my boss's boss] that?! He's so weird! There's one only thing that can mean!"
Alabaster: "Well..."
Look. It has been WELL OVER A YEAR since we hooked up.
That conversation gives me hope that something else could happen. As I always remind myself when it comes to all relationships, If nothing were there, NOTHING WOULD BE THERE.
Something is there.
Therefore, something is there between us.
We'll see what happens.
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Trapped in a Non-Relationship
Somewhat awkward moment today: I was walking home from the subway and I ran smack into the Busker. I haven't seen him, nor have I spoken to him, since our date a week ago.
He was on the phone. I had my iPod on. We mouthed, "Hi," and moved on.
This is why I have to stop dating guys in my neighborhood. I can't swing a dead cat without hitting one of them.
I've been continuing to see the Cowboy. And, truth be told, I'm not quite sure why. I think I've established that I'm really not that attracted to him. His height is a huge factor when it comes to that. I wish I could get past it, but I just can't. He's too short.
I am well aware of my dating patterns and I know that staying with someone to whom I'm not attracted is a recipe for disaster. It's been bad enough times. But he's a cool guy and I like hanging out with him. He keeps me entertained.
The other day, I told him that I feel a bit guilty that we always hang out in my neighborhood. He suggested that I come over. He still lives at home, but his parents wouldn't be home this weekend -- they would be away. I agreed to it.
I went to visit him on Sunday, and although we originally planned on sometime before 5, we changed to 7.
I called him when I was almost there to let him know.
"And your parents are still away, right?" I asked.
"Um...they're back now," he told me.
"Oh," I said, my voice hollow. "Oh....okay."
I did not want to meet his parents.
I actually told the Cowboy the other night that I wasn't interested in pursuing a relationship. He told me that he was pretty go-with-the-flow, take-it-as-it-comes.
I was not going to meet the parents of a guy I wasn't even seeing exclusively.
I got to his house. He was inside. I could see his father outside to the left. He didn't introduce us. When we went inside, I could tell that there were people in other rooms, but he must have told them to stay put.
I met his two dogs -- both golden retrievers. One VERY large one and one cute little puppy. I don't like dogs except for the occasional puppy.
I think he could tell because the large one jumped on me and kept trying to lick me everywhere. I think the Cowboy could tell how I felt because I had an expression of disgust and contempt on my face, then went to wash my hands as soon as he restrained the large dog.
"Wow, you really don't like dogs," he said, a bit surprised and amused.
"Well, I told you I wasn't an animal person," I told him. "I guess I didn't tell you just how much."
(To be fair, the little puppy then snuggled in between my ankles, and I found that very cute, for an animal.)
We went upstairs to the attic, where he has a pseudo-suite. After hanging out for a bit, I relaxed, and he kissed me. The kisses are weird -- he always initiates them, and it would never occur to me to do so.
AND HE'S SHORT!
We went out and grabbed dinner. It was fun.
I just don't know what to do. This is never going to be a relationship. But I don't want to hurt him. I'd like to stay friends with him. I don't know how to go about this!!
He was on the phone. I had my iPod on. We mouthed, "Hi," and moved on.
This is why I have to stop dating guys in my neighborhood. I can't swing a dead cat without hitting one of them.
I've been continuing to see the Cowboy. And, truth be told, I'm not quite sure why. I think I've established that I'm really not that attracted to him. His height is a huge factor when it comes to that. I wish I could get past it, but I just can't. He's too short.
I am well aware of my dating patterns and I know that staying with someone to whom I'm not attracted is a recipe for disaster. It's been bad enough times. But he's a cool guy and I like hanging out with him. He keeps me entertained.
The other day, I told him that I feel a bit guilty that we always hang out in my neighborhood. He suggested that I come over. He still lives at home, but his parents wouldn't be home this weekend -- they would be away. I agreed to it.
I went to visit him on Sunday, and although we originally planned on sometime before 5, we changed to 7.
I called him when I was almost there to let him know.
"And your parents are still away, right?" I asked.
"Um...they're back now," he told me.
"Oh," I said, my voice hollow. "Oh....okay."
I did not want to meet his parents.
I actually told the Cowboy the other night that I wasn't interested in pursuing a relationship. He told me that he was pretty go-with-the-flow, take-it-as-it-comes.
I was not going to meet the parents of a guy I wasn't even seeing exclusively.
I got to his house. He was inside. I could see his father outside to the left. He didn't introduce us. When we went inside, I could tell that there were people in other rooms, but he must have told them to stay put.
I met his two dogs -- both golden retrievers. One VERY large one and one cute little puppy. I don't like dogs except for the occasional puppy.
I think he could tell because the large one jumped on me and kept trying to lick me everywhere. I think the Cowboy could tell how I felt because I had an expression of disgust and contempt on my face, then went to wash my hands as soon as he restrained the large dog.
"Wow, you really don't like dogs," he said, a bit surprised and amused.
"Well, I told you I wasn't an animal person," I told him. "I guess I didn't tell you just how much."
(To be fair, the little puppy then snuggled in between my ankles, and I found that very cute, for an animal.)
We went upstairs to the attic, where he has a pseudo-suite. After hanging out for a bit, I relaxed, and he kissed me. The kisses are weird -- he always initiates them, and it would never occur to me to do so.
AND HE'S SHORT!
We went out and grabbed dinner. It was fun.
I just don't know what to do. This is never going to be a relationship. But I don't want to hurt him. I'd like to stay friends with him. I don't know how to go about this!!
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Pest Control
Today I had to wait around my apartment for the yearly spraying for pests. Living in a warm tropical climate, various insects are a common nuisance, so my landlord sends someone out once every spring to do a preventative spray. So I had to dip out early on lunch with Rocky to rush home to meet the pest guy.
And what a creeper! He comes in and I'm polite enough, but my apartment... is pretty trashed. I forgot how messy my room was, and quickly ran to stuff my laundry into various drawers, closet, anywhere. As the pest guy gets situated, he comments how "You were doing the same exact thing when I came here last year, sitting in the same exact spot with the laptop and the television, watching some silly soap opera." Which first and foremost, I don't watch silly soap operas. Ever. And second of all, creepy much?
I nervously chuckled and commented that this is the technological age of multitasking and kind of trailed off. I mean, what the fuck does he expect me to be doing. I had to sit around and wait for him to come to let him into my apartment. He's going to be spraying, so should I be baking a fresh batch of cookies to present to him? Should I have been in my full workout gear, sweating to the oldies? I don't think it's that ludicrous that I am relaxing on my couch with my computer and television, but maybe that's just me. Way to make an uncomfortable and creepy observation, Pest Control guy. Do you make comments like that to all of your customers, or just the young single women?
Then, he goes to spray in my spare room, which is jokingly referred to as my "office" or "art studio" but in actuality is just my junk room. And while in there quips, "This room hasn't changed much." What the fuck? Did he keep a dossier of my apartment to revisit in the most creepy manner possible? Save the personal comments and critiques for someone else. The entire process took less than ten minutes, but the ripple effects of emotional scarring will surely haunt me for much longer. As he left, his parting words were, "Okay, I'll leave you to your... laptop." I didn't even know how to respond. I sort of muttered a "Yeah, see ya." and promptly locked the door behind him.
It's one thing to attempt small talk to be personable, but everything that he said was borderlining on stalkeriffic and judgmental. Sorry I didn't tidy the place up for you, or engage in more stimulating activity for the ten minutes we see each other a year. That shit rubbed me the wrong way, and I'm so thankful that I won't have to deal with him for another year.
And strictly on principle, I plan to be in the same spot again next year, tooling around on my laptop and watching TV.
And what a creeper! He comes in and I'm polite enough, but my apartment... is pretty trashed. I forgot how messy my room was, and quickly ran to stuff my laundry into various drawers, closet, anywhere. As the pest guy gets situated, he comments how "You were doing the same exact thing when I came here last year, sitting in the same exact spot with the laptop and the television, watching some silly soap opera." Which first and foremost, I don't watch silly soap operas. Ever. And second of all, creepy much?
I nervously chuckled and commented that this is the technological age of multitasking and kind of trailed off. I mean, what the fuck does he expect me to be doing. I had to sit around and wait for him to come to let him into my apartment. He's going to be spraying, so should I be baking a fresh batch of cookies to present to him? Should I have been in my full workout gear, sweating to the oldies? I don't think it's that ludicrous that I am relaxing on my couch with my computer and television, but maybe that's just me. Way to make an uncomfortable and creepy observation, Pest Control guy. Do you make comments like that to all of your customers, or just the young single women?
Then, he goes to spray in my spare room, which is jokingly referred to as my "office" or "art studio" but in actuality is just my junk room. And while in there quips, "This room hasn't changed much." What the fuck? Did he keep a dossier of my apartment to revisit in the most creepy manner possible? Save the personal comments and critiques for someone else. The entire process took less than ten minutes, but the ripple effects of emotional scarring will surely haunt me for much longer. As he left, his parting words were, "Okay, I'll leave you to your... laptop." I didn't even know how to respond. I sort of muttered a "Yeah, see ya." and promptly locked the door behind him.
It's one thing to attempt small talk to be personable, but everything that he said was borderlining on stalkeriffic and judgmental. Sorry I didn't tidy the place up for you, or engage in more stimulating activity for the ten minutes we see each other a year. That shit rubbed me the wrong way, and I'm so thankful that I won't have to deal with him for another year.
And strictly on principle, I plan to be in the same spot again next year, tooling around on my laptop and watching TV.
Monday, March 24, 2008
One last tumble in the Weeds
You would think that after the Trainwreck known as Super Bowl I would have washed my hands of Dandy completely. And if I were a sound person of logic, I would have. But, my emotions are my vulnerability as well as my willingness to fall for guys so easily got the best of me, as they always do.
At work I'd put up an icy front against Dandy. I figured that hateful glares combined with the silent treatment was my best course of action to follow. But it was hard. I'd really liked him, even though he was a druggie douche. Maybe it was more of a pride issue. I'd felt initially that I'd been "settling" with Dandy, and that I was out of his league, so despite the feelings I'd developed, it was almost embarrassing that I'd been dissed by someone whom I'd considered beneath me. Although I suppose that served as a wake-up call of sorts.
Slowly my hard exterior melted away until Dandy and I reached cordial terms. It was difficult to maintain an animosity when we worked so closely together and ran in the same social circles. Plus, for some reason, I've time and time again exhibited a weakness and vulnerability for the men who stomped on their hearts. Maybe I'm a masochist, but I tend to give multiple chances to men I'm emotionally connected to.
After a night at work, I went to our favorite dive bar, the scene of many of my past work-related sexual indiscretions, with my friends Wispy and Gay J. We laughed over cocktails and shots, singing to the likes of Eddie Money, when lo and behold, who should enter the bar but Dandy. My heart skipped a beat, as I hadn't expected to see him there. This was naive on my part as the bar was one of our favorite hangouts.
I was flanked by my two good friends, who were feeding into my ego, and building me up. I felt like I had the upper hand, I was looking fabulous, feeling good from all the cocktails, and Dandy was practically falling over himself flirting with me. In my mind, it was the perfect scenario. I was thinking that he realized how stupid he was to screw things up and wanted to make amends. I played it cool, and Gay J was my trusty sidekick, constantly chiming in to tell Dandy how hot and sexy I was and how utterly out of his league I was and how lucky he would be to go home with a girl like me.
The shots and cocktails were a-flowing throughout the rest of the night, and by last call I was sufficiently hammered. Definitely too drunk to drive. Never too drunk to fuck. Naturally I got Dandy to drive me home and with very little convincing, invited him to stay over. What are principles when there's a need to get laid? The next morning was like old times, nothing awkward, and we went back to get his car (he'd driven mine home) and that was that.
Apparently I learned nothing from the whole McRugby debacle. I was foolish enough to believe that things were turning out the way I wanted. That Dandy was finally cutting Fanga loose, and we were going to be together. Things went back to the way they were, he was full-on back with Fanga and we never spoke of that night after the bar. I guess he just wanted one last roll in the hay before returning to his girlfriend.
Hindsight is 20/20 and looking back on my whole "relationship" with Dandy, I went in with wholly unrealistic expectations. I romanticized our affair, and ignored the looming possibility that he was still with Fanga. But he was never 100% honest with me and I shouldn't blame myself for his lies, because I had no reason not to believe him. The irony of the situation was that I had truly believed that with Dandy I had found a nice, sweet guy. I'm starting to question whether or not such a thing exists...
At work I'd put up an icy front against Dandy. I figured that hateful glares combined with the silent treatment was my best course of action to follow. But it was hard. I'd really liked him, even though he was a druggie douche. Maybe it was more of a pride issue. I'd felt initially that I'd been "settling" with Dandy, and that I was out of his league, so despite the feelings I'd developed, it was almost embarrassing that I'd been dissed by someone whom I'd considered beneath me. Although I suppose that served as a wake-up call of sorts.
Slowly my hard exterior melted away until Dandy and I reached cordial terms. It was difficult to maintain an animosity when we worked so closely together and ran in the same social circles. Plus, for some reason, I've time and time again exhibited a weakness and vulnerability for the men who stomped on their hearts. Maybe I'm a masochist, but I tend to give multiple chances to men I'm emotionally connected to.
After a night at work, I went to our favorite dive bar, the scene of many of my past work-related sexual indiscretions, with my friends Wispy and Gay J. We laughed over cocktails and shots, singing to the likes of Eddie Money, when lo and behold, who should enter the bar but Dandy. My heart skipped a beat, as I hadn't expected to see him there. This was naive on my part as the bar was one of our favorite hangouts.
I was flanked by my two good friends, who were feeding into my ego, and building me up. I felt like I had the upper hand, I was looking fabulous, feeling good from all the cocktails, and Dandy was practically falling over himself flirting with me. In my mind, it was the perfect scenario. I was thinking that he realized how stupid he was to screw things up and wanted to make amends. I played it cool, and Gay J was my trusty sidekick, constantly chiming in to tell Dandy how hot and sexy I was and how utterly out of his league I was and how lucky he would be to go home with a girl like me.
The shots and cocktails were a-flowing throughout the rest of the night, and by last call I was sufficiently hammered. Definitely too drunk to drive. Never too drunk to fuck. Naturally I got Dandy to drive me home and with very little convincing, invited him to stay over. What are principles when there's a need to get laid? The next morning was like old times, nothing awkward, and we went back to get his car (he'd driven mine home) and that was that.
Apparently I learned nothing from the whole McRugby debacle. I was foolish enough to believe that things were turning out the way I wanted. That Dandy was finally cutting Fanga loose, and we were going to be together. Things went back to the way they were, he was full-on back with Fanga and we never spoke of that night after the bar. I guess he just wanted one last roll in the hay before returning to his girlfriend.
Hindsight is 20/20 and looking back on my whole "relationship" with Dandy, I went in with wholly unrealistic expectations. I romanticized our affair, and ignored the looming possibility that he was still with Fanga. But he was never 100% honest with me and I shouldn't blame myself for his lies, because I had no reason not to believe him. The irony of the situation was that I had truly believed that with Dandy I had found a nice, sweet guy. I'm starting to question whether or not such a thing exists...
Sunday, March 23, 2008
My Attempt at a Harem
Lately, I've been thinking that the best option for me is to establish a harem of men. This way, I can draw from it whenever I'm in the mood for a certain guy.
I've been dating two guys: the Cowboy and the Busker.
I met the Cowboy on an online dating site. He went to college in a state known for its population of cowboys, so he has a total cowboy accent and loves to wear cowboy hats and boots and stuff like that, but not so much in the city here -- mostly in college.
I like him a lot. He's cute, and our conversation is AWESOME. He's a really cool guy, and I love hanging out with him and talking with him. He's great.
The only problem is that I'm not sure that I feel attracted enough to him. We have tons of friendship chemistry but don't have much physical chemistry, which is a complete 180 from the Hott Waiter.
His height is a huge reason. I'm just about the average height for an American woman. His online dating profile said that he was two inches shorter than me. I should have known that ANY guy would exaggerate his height. He's actually exactly my height. EXACTLY. Which is tough for me. I wish it wasn't this way, but it's how it is.
He's also a year younger than me, so that's unusual for me as well. He still lives at home, too (yikes!) but will be moving out in a few months.
Now, the second guy is the Busker.
I was at a popular cafe in my neighborhood a few weeks ago with Miranda when we saw this attractive redheaded guy. I don't usually think redheaded guys are hot, but THIS guy was! I asked him if he was in line, he said no, and he moved back. He was with a girl, but they didn't seem to be together.
I joked to Miranda that we should put out a "missed connection" on Craigslist for him. Long story short, I did, and a week later, he responded. He didn't know who I was, but he said that he was in the cafe all the time. We exchanged several emails, I asked him details about himself, and they all matched up.
He busks for a career -- he plays his guitar and sings around our city, particularly in my neighborhood and surrounding neighborhoods. He also teaches lessons and does gigs at local bars, but he's mainly a busker. Sexy!
I was planning on going to a local bar last week, I told him, and he mentioned out of the blue that actually, he was supposed to play music there on that night.
Miranda and I went. It was AWESOME because we knew who he was and he had NO idea who I was!! WE HELD THE POWER!!!!
He texted me, telling me to finally show myself!
And then it happened.
He took off his hat.
He is completely bald on top.
DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT.
Still, aside from that, he's very good-looking and I was attracted to him.
I went up to him at the very end of the night to talk to him. I had been drinking quite a bit.
Me: "Hi."
Busker: "Samantha?"
Perfect. He was thinking of me all night.
We talked for a while, and we said we could call, text, meet up, etc.
A week later -- a few hours ago! -- we got a cup of coffee.
He had his hat on. I'm definitely attracted to him. The problem? We only hung out for about 40 minutes, and STILL, tons of people came up to him because he's so well known in the area -- including two girls who TOTALLY hung all over him and flirted with me!
I tried to stay neutral, because nothing can be less attractive to a guy when you get jealous, but it's tough in that circumstance.
We ended things with a hug and plans to meet up again.
I'd just like to hook up with him on a regular basis, no strings attached, have him be one of the guys in my harem.
We'll see how it goes with both him and the Cowboy.
I've been dating two guys: the Cowboy and the Busker.
I met the Cowboy on an online dating site. He went to college in a state known for its population of cowboys, so he has a total cowboy accent and loves to wear cowboy hats and boots and stuff like that, but not so much in the city here -- mostly in college.
I like him a lot. He's cute, and our conversation is AWESOME. He's a really cool guy, and I love hanging out with him and talking with him. He's great.
The only problem is that I'm not sure that I feel attracted enough to him. We have tons of friendship chemistry but don't have much physical chemistry, which is a complete 180 from the Hott Waiter.
His height is a huge reason. I'm just about the average height for an American woman. His online dating profile said that he was two inches shorter than me. I should have known that ANY guy would exaggerate his height. He's actually exactly my height. EXACTLY. Which is tough for me. I wish it wasn't this way, but it's how it is.
He's also a year younger than me, so that's unusual for me as well. He still lives at home, too (yikes!) but will be moving out in a few months.
Now, the second guy is the Busker.
I was at a popular cafe in my neighborhood a few weeks ago with Miranda when we saw this attractive redheaded guy. I don't usually think redheaded guys are hot, but THIS guy was! I asked him if he was in line, he said no, and he moved back. He was with a girl, but they didn't seem to be together.
I joked to Miranda that we should put out a "missed connection" on Craigslist for him. Long story short, I did, and a week later, he responded. He didn't know who I was, but he said that he was in the cafe all the time. We exchanged several emails, I asked him details about himself, and they all matched up.
He busks for a career -- he plays his guitar and sings around our city, particularly in my neighborhood and surrounding neighborhoods. He also teaches lessons and does gigs at local bars, but he's mainly a busker. Sexy!
I was planning on going to a local bar last week, I told him, and he mentioned out of the blue that actually, he was supposed to play music there on that night.
Miranda and I went. It was AWESOME because we knew who he was and he had NO idea who I was!! WE HELD THE POWER!!!!
He texted me, telling me to finally show myself!
And then it happened.
He took off his hat.
He is completely bald on top.
DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT.
Still, aside from that, he's very good-looking and I was attracted to him.
I went up to him at the very end of the night to talk to him. I had been drinking quite a bit.
Me: "Hi."
Busker: "Samantha?"
Perfect. He was thinking of me all night.
We talked for a while, and we said we could call, text, meet up, etc.
A week later -- a few hours ago! -- we got a cup of coffee.
He had his hat on. I'm definitely attracted to him. The problem? We only hung out for about 40 minutes, and STILL, tons of people came up to him because he's so well known in the area -- including two girls who TOTALLY hung all over him and flirted with me!
I tried to stay neutral, because nothing can be less attractive to a guy when you get jealous, but it's tough in that circumstance.
We ended things with a hug and plans to meet up again.
I'd just like to hook up with him on a regular basis, no strings attached, have him be one of the guys in my harem.
We'll see how it goes with both him and the Cowboy.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Introducing Alabaster
Back in October, I alluded to a strange attraction to someone. We hooked up a few times about a year ago.
I love this story, so I'd like to write about it.
I had a moderate flirtation with a coworker that had been going on for around a month. Perhaps "moderate" is too strong a word. We talked a lot, and I had the teeniest inkling of attraction to him -- but I have the teeniest inkling of attraction to anyone!
He's tall (good), and pretty thin (good), and he has dark hair (good), but he has the WHITEST skin you can imagine. Let's call him Alabaster for that reason. People rib him about it. He has a very young-looking face. (When he grew a goatee, another coworker told him he looked ten years older and could now pass for fourteen.)
Anyway, it was a late night at the office, and we finally got out at the same time. He asked me if I wanted to go get a drink with him and his friends in his neighborhood. (Alabaster lives in our city, but in a neighborhood about 20 minutes from me that is filled with college students.)
He had invited me a few times before, and I always tossed off the casual "No, no, no, no" that we girls employ so often, the polite initial refusal. But this time, I surprised myself.
"Sure."
I piled into his car with his friends. Miranda called me while en route to their house (which helpfully made it look like I was popular -- thanks, Mirand!). The whole time, my heart was beating rapidly. I wasn't friends with the rest of these guys -- only Alabaster. And, truth be told, I often have difficulty being the new person in a group of people who already know each other.
We got to his house and walked to the bar. I made sure to get enough money for a cab at the ATM. It was fun at the bar, especially as I began drinking those vodka tonics and loosened up. Alabaster and I flirted a tad, but I tried to make it seem like I didn't care.
Alabaster has a roommate who also worked with us. I'll call him Upstairs. Upstairs is not my type in the least -- big and black -- but he's a very smart and personable guy, and I like him. We spent a lot of the evening talking as Alabaster was off with his other friends, and then Upstairs started buying me drinks. Good ones. Belvedere, not that Absolut crap I was drinking before.
It gets a tad fuzzy at this point. We went to another bar. By now, Upstairs was hitting on me -- HARD. (Not literally hard. He was just hitting on me a lot.) But I was paying more attention to Alabaster, and he was paying attention to me. It got flirtatious. Very much so. We were holding hands by the time the bar closed.
Alabaster was cheap. As soon as he got home, he shotgunned 3 Bud Lights in a row.
For a few hours, we hung out in the kitchen. And that's when Upstairs started getting a little bit scary.
"All I'm saying," he told me, "Is that my bedroom is UPSTAIRS and ON THE LEFT. Upstairs and on the left. I'm just throwing it out there! That's all I'm saying! Upstairs and on the left! I mean, I'm just throwing it out there...." etc. etc. etc. On and on and on and on.
I joked back with him, hoping that he understood that I meant it as a joke. Apparently, that didn't work, and he tried to pull me into his room.
I fought back and told him firmly, without smiling, that no, I did not want to go upstairs with him.
It got more normal after that, even though Upstairs still believed that he had a sliver of a chance with me.
Earlier that evening, while at the second bar, I slurred to Alabaster, "Would you mind if I just crashed on your couch? I'll take the train home tomorrow morning." He told me that yeah, it was fine, no problem whatsoever.
Before long, there were three people left in the kitchen: me, Alabaster and Upstairs. Alabaster and I were standing on opposite sides of the table. Upstairs was seated at the table.
Eventually, Upstairs conceded defeat.
"Well, I guess I'll go to bed, then," he said. THANK GOD. It was about time. At this point, I think that both Alabaster and I were well aware that we wanted to hook up. We looked at each other. I waited until Upstairs had shuffled upstairs and on the left to his bedroom.
"So," I said casually, "Would you be up for any spooning tonight?"
"I would definitely be up for spooning tonight," he replied just as casually. "Spooning sounds like something that would be great."
"Great."
I went into his room and lay on his bed. Of course, I use the word "bed" loosely -- it was a twin-sized mattress on the floor with a single sheet on top of it.
I need to talk more about Alabaster. Everyone thinks he's a douchebag. That's probably the best way to describe him. People make fun of him. He tries to be cool. Yet he's pretty high up in the social hierarchy at work. People are friends with him, but they also mock him, most often to his face. It's tough to describe. He can be a jerk, but he's not malicious or mean.
That's why I found it so odd that I was attracted to him.
Anyway, he was in the bathroom. And he came back.
I was on the bed, on my side, facing away from the wall. In typical girl fashion, I tried to take up as little room as possible.
He turned out the light and came to the bed.
I assumed that he was just going to lie there, cuddle and spoon with me.
He lay down facing me.
We started wildly making out.
Oh, God, it was FANTASTIC. That's up there in one of my favorite first kisses. I just remember arms, and lips, and falling all over each other.
He wanted to do more than I was prepared to do (did I honestly think I'd be hooking up when I went to work that day?), so I wouldn't let him get beyond second base. (Heh.)
It was good. It was really good. And I don't want to write that much about it, because it was more about a feeling, a moment, that you couldn't describe through writing.
The next day, we cuddled and talked, and he drove me home. As soon as we got out of bed (or off mattress), it suddenly became awkward, and remained that way for the 20-minute drive home. We gave each other a quick smooch as I left.
Our next two hookups were strikingly similar. Fantastic making out, such chemistry, and then chilly awkwardness the next morning.
And after that, nothing ever again.
I love this story, so I'd like to write about it.
I had a moderate flirtation with a coworker that had been going on for around a month. Perhaps "moderate" is too strong a word. We talked a lot, and I had the teeniest inkling of attraction to him -- but I have the teeniest inkling of attraction to anyone!
He's tall (good), and pretty thin (good), and he has dark hair (good), but he has the WHITEST skin you can imagine. Let's call him Alabaster for that reason. People rib him about it. He has a very young-looking face. (When he grew a goatee, another coworker told him he looked ten years older and could now pass for fourteen.)
Anyway, it was a late night at the office, and we finally got out at the same time. He asked me if I wanted to go get a drink with him and his friends in his neighborhood. (Alabaster lives in our city, but in a neighborhood about 20 minutes from me that is filled with college students.)
He had invited me a few times before, and I always tossed off the casual "No, no, no, no" that we girls employ so often, the polite initial refusal. But this time, I surprised myself.
"Sure."
I piled into his car with his friends. Miranda called me while en route to their house (which helpfully made it look like I was popular -- thanks, Mirand!). The whole time, my heart was beating rapidly. I wasn't friends with the rest of these guys -- only Alabaster. And, truth be told, I often have difficulty being the new person in a group of people who already know each other.
We got to his house and walked to the bar. I made sure to get enough money for a cab at the ATM. It was fun at the bar, especially as I began drinking those vodka tonics and loosened up. Alabaster and I flirted a tad, but I tried to make it seem like I didn't care.
Alabaster has a roommate who also worked with us. I'll call him Upstairs. Upstairs is not my type in the least -- big and black -- but he's a very smart and personable guy, and I like him. We spent a lot of the evening talking as Alabaster was off with his other friends, and then Upstairs started buying me drinks. Good ones. Belvedere, not that Absolut crap I was drinking before.
It gets a tad fuzzy at this point. We went to another bar. By now, Upstairs was hitting on me -- HARD. (Not literally hard. He was just hitting on me a lot.) But I was paying more attention to Alabaster, and he was paying attention to me. It got flirtatious. Very much so. We were holding hands by the time the bar closed.
Alabaster was cheap. As soon as he got home, he shotgunned 3 Bud Lights in a row.
For a few hours, we hung out in the kitchen. And that's when Upstairs started getting a little bit scary.
"All I'm saying," he told me, "Is that my bedroom is UPSTAIRS and ON THE LEFT. Upstairs and on the left. I'm just throwing it out there! That's all I'm saying! Upstairs and on the left! I mean, I'm just throwing it out there...." etc. etc. etc. On and on and on and on.
I joked back with him, hoping that he understood that I meant it as a joke. Apparently, that didn't work, and he tried to pull me into his room.
I fought back and told him firmly, without smiling, that no, I did not want to go upstairs with him.
It got more normal after that, even though Upstairs still believed that he had a sliver of a chance with me.
Earlier that evening, while at the second bar, I slurred to Alabaster, "Would you mind if I just crashed on your couch? I'll take the train home tomorrow morning." He told me that yeah, it was fine, no problem whatsoever.
Before long, there were three people left in the kitchen: me, Alabaster and Upstairs. Alabaster and I were standing on opposite sides of the table. Upstairs was seated at the table.
Eventually, Upstairs conceded defeat.
"Well, I guess I'll go to bed, then," he said. THANK GOD. It was about time. At this point, I think that both Alabaster and I were well aware that we wanted to hook up. We looked at each other. I waited until Upstairs had shuffled upstairs and on the left to his bedroom.
"So," I said casually, "Would you be up for any spooning tonight?"
"I would definitely be up for spooning tonight," he replied just as casually. "Spooning sounds like something that would be great."
"Great."
I went into his room and lay on his bed. Of course, I use the word "bed" loosely -- it was a twin-sized mattress on the floor with a single sheet on top of it.
I need to talk more about Alabaster. Everyone thinks he's a douchebag. That's probably the best way to describe him. People make fun of him. He tries to be cool. Yet he's pretty high up in the social hierarchy at work. People are friends with him, but they also mock him, most often to his face. It's tough to describe. He can be a jerk, but he's not malicious or mean.
That's why I found it so odd that I was attracted to him.
Anyway, he was in the bathroom. And he came back.
I was on the bed, on my side, facing away from the wall. In typical girl fashion, I tried to take up as little room as possible.
He turned out the light and came to the bed.
I assumed that he was just going to lie there, cuddle and spoon with me.
He lay down facing me.
We started wildly making out.
Oh, God, it was FANTASTIC. That's up there in one of my favorite first kisses. I just remember arms, and lips, and falling all over each other.
He wanted to do more than I was prepared to do (did I honestly think I'd be hooking up when I went to work that day?), so I wouldn't let him get beyond second base. (Heh.)
It was good. It was really good. And I don't want to write that much about it, because it was more about a feeling, a moment, that you couldn't describe through writing.
The next day, we cuddled and talked, and he drove me home. As soon as we got out of bed (or off mattress), it suddenly became awkward, and remained that way for the 20-minute drive home. We gave each other a quick smooch as I left.
Our next two hookups were strikingly similar. Fantastic making out, such chemistry, and then chilly awkwardness the next morning.
And after that, nothing ever again.
It's over.
My relationship with the Hott Waiter ended nearly three weeks ago.
It ended in a very ugly way, and for that reason, I don't want to write about it.
It ended in a very ugly way, and for that reason, I don't want to write about it.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
The Accidental "I Love You"
Yesterday, I went to a New Year's gathering at the home of the Hott Waiter's good friend from work. It turns out that he had been talking about me so much that his friend, Daughtry (looks just like him -- but improved!), insisted on throwing a party so he could get to meet me.
Squee.
I knew that it would take me a while to warm up to them and actually start talking, which is something I wish that were easier for me to do. I'm fine after some time -- especially when alcohol is involved, THAT loosens me up! -- but I need time to relax.
And I wish I could have been more relaxed earlier in the night. The Hott Waiter kept asking me if I was okay. Grah. I'm going to try to be better at it. It's just that I like this guy so much and he's so great, he makes me nervous about him!!!!
Anyway, the night went on, and the guys hung out together while I bonded with the girls. Which was much easier for me to do and went much more smoothly. I really liked Daughtry's fiancee.
Later in the night, I was sitting in a big poofy chair, kind of sideways, and he sat on the arm of the chair and slid back onto my lap jokingly. At this point, we had each had around three or four drinks -- enough to be slightly intoxicated but not totally gone.
I teased him for his bony shoulder blades, he grabbed my hand (as he always does) and got cuddly with me. He is so damn affectionate and romantic at every given moment!!!!
We talked a bit -- I can't remember what about -- and then he randomly said, "I love you, babe."
It was casual; it was offhand. He wasn't looking into my eyes when he said it. I know it's not supposed to mean anything.
But he said it, and the fact that he said it made my entire body go crazy -- my stomach flipped and I could feel my heart beating everywhere from my crotch up to my throat to my fingertips.
I just smiled and didn't say anything.
I know it means nothing -- we've only been dating a month! Still, though, it was nice.
Squee.
I knew that it would take me a while to warm up to them and actually start talking, which is something I wish that were easier for me to do. I'm fine after some time -- especially when alcohol is involved, THAT loosens me up! -- but I need time to relax.
And I wish I could have been more relaxed earlier in the night. The Hott Waiter kept asking me if I was okay. Grah. I'm going to try to be better at it. It's just that I like this guy so much and he's so great, he makes me nervous about him!!!!
Anyway, the night went on, and the guys hung out together while I bonded with the girls. Which was much easier for me to do and went much more smoothly. I really liked Daughtry's fiancee.
Later in the night, I was sitting in a big poofy chair, kind of sideways, and he sat on the arm of the chair and slid back onto my lap jokingly. At this point, we had each had around three or four drinks -- enough to be slightly intoxicated but not totally gone.
I teased him for his bony shoulder blades, he grabbed my hand (as he always does) and got cuddly with me. He is so damn affectionate and romantic at every given moment!!!!
We talked a bit -- I can't remember what about -- and then he randomly said, "I love you, babe."
It was casual; it was offhand. He wasn't looking into my eyes when he said it. I know it's not supposed to mean anything.
But he said it, and the fact that he said it made my entire body go crazy -- my stomach flipped and I could feel my heart beating everywhere from my crotch up to my throat to my fingertips.
I just smiled and didn't say anything.
I know it means nothing -- we've only been dating a month! Still, though, it was nice.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Food and Sex: One Uncontrollable Urge
My Hott Waiter and I have been dating for almost a month. The sex has been fantastic. Last time we did it, we went at it for two full hours and I came three times in a row. After, I realized we had shot the bolts out of my bed.
But I digress.
I've always considered myself a foodie, but my Hott Waiter is a REAL foodie. He's very sensual -- really into food and wine, very knowledgeable and particular. It's nice to be with a guy who actually eats his dessert little by little, savoring each bite, rather than shoving bite after bite in his mouth.
The way a guy eats dessert IS representative of his skills between the sheets.
He talks about food passionately, and I've been finding that it turns me on. I'm serious! I find myself becoming aroused when he talks about the nuances of a wine, the accoutrements to a dish, or how tuna is just barely seared....God, I love tuna, the rarer the better....
The first time we had sex, I was blown away by how great a night it was overall. The sex was wonderful -- and since that first time, it has grown and evolved and morphed into FANTASTIC! Dare I say it? The Hott Waiter has given me the best sex of my LIFE! Each time is better than the last!
Anyway, on that first night, the weather was really bad -- we had a major storm, and most people were holed up inside. After having sex, we realized we were hungry, he had no food in his fridge, and we might as well go out.
We ended up at a really trendy place -- a painfully, ridiculously trendy place in our city's trendiest dining neighborhood, the neighborhood that includes his restaurant. This restaurant is open late (which it was) and the food is WONDERFUL and the prices are suprisingly low! We blissfully ate our food, smooched, fed each other across the table, played footsie....that's how he rolls. And I love it.
Since then, almost every time we've had sex, we've gone for food afterward. It's so natural -- you get so tired and hungry after sex that you need to replenish yourself -- and your metabolism is already up, so why not?
Whether expensive or cheap, it's always been good food. We've gone to Wendy's for chicken sandwiches, IHOP for pancakes, and an all-night brasserie in one of the nice hotels downtown.
It's become natural. Sex, then food. After the sex, I want the food!
Funnily enough, last night, he took me out for an incredible dinner -- a seven-course extravaganza and a fantastic bottle of wine. (His best friend is a manager there.)
Did we have sex?
Are you kidding? We couldn't even move!
Sex, then food. It should never be any other way.
But I digress.
I've always considered myself a foodie, but my Hott Waiter is a REAL foodie. He's very sensual -- really into food and wine, very knowledgeable and particular. It's nice to be with a guy who actually eats his dessert little by little, savoring each bite, rather than shoving bite after bite in his mouth.
The way a guy eats dessert IS representative of his skills between the sheets.
He talks about food passionately, and I've been finding that it turns me on. I'm serious! I find myself becoming aroused when he talks about the nuances of a wine, the accoutrements to a dish, or how tuna is just barely seared....God, I love tuna, the rarer the better....
The first time we had sex, I was blown away by how great a night it was overall. The sex was wonderful -- and since that first time, it has grown and evolved and morphed into FANTASTIC! Dare I say it? The Hott Waiter has given me the best sex of my LIFE! Each time is better than the last!
Anyway, on that first night, the weather was really bad -- we had a major storm, and most people were holed up inside. After having sex, we realized we were hungry, he had no food in his fridge, and we might as well go out.
We ended up at a really trendy place -- a painfully, ridiculously trendy place in our city's trendiest dining neighborhood, the neighborhood that includes his restaurant. This restaurant is open late (which it was) and the food is WONDERFUL and the prices are suprisingly low! We blissfully ate our food, smooched, fed each other across the table, played footsie....that's how he rolls. And I love it.
Since then, almost every time we've had sex, we've gone for food afterward. It's so natural -- you get so tired and hungry after sex that you need to replenish yourself -- and your metabolism is already up, so why not?
Whether expensive or cheap, it's always been good food. We've gone to Wendy's for chicken sandwiches, IHOP for pancakes, and an all-night brasserie in one of the nice hotels downtown.
It's become natural. Sex, then food. After the sex, I want the food!
Funnily enough, last night, he took me out for an incredible dinner -- a seven-course extravaganza and a fantastic bottle of wine. (His best friend is a manager there.)
Did we have sex?
Are you kidding? We couldn't even move!
Sex, then food. It should never be any other way.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
The Hott Waiter: Who is he?
Every guy I date has been compared to a guy on Sex and the City.
So who is the Hott Waiter?
There's no question that we met just the way that Samantha and Smith met. But that's where the similarities end.
And he's a waiter while I'm a young professional. Sounds like Miranda and Steve.
But in terms of how he acts, if only limited to the episodes preceding the finale, you know who he is? PETROVSKY! Intensely romantic to the point of blowing me away, sensual beyond all belief, opening me to a new world, and just impressive.
And also....we haven't been laughing together as often as I'd like. It's still very new, but....let's hope we can change that.
So who is the Hott Waiter?
There's no question that we met just the way that Samantha and Smith met. But that's where the similarities end.
And he's a waiter while I'm a young professional. Sounds like Miranda and Steve.
But in terms of how he acts, if only limited to the episodes preceding the finale, you know who he is? PETROVSKY! Intensely romantic to the point of blowing me away, sensual beyond all belief, opening me to a new world, and just impressive.
And also....we haven't been laughing together as often as I'd like. It's still very new, but....let's hope we can change that.
Whirlwind Romance with the Hott Waiter
It's been two weeks, and it has been fantastic.
In fact, I feel as if I don't want to write about it -- not in too much detail, anyway. I like holding it close to me, feeling like it's something special. I keep it special because I don't reveal too much.
Well, in the past two weeks, the Hott Waiter and I had our pivotal first date, we spontaneously met up at clubs twice, and we spent time at each other's places after that....
Here are a few things that struck me:
He is intensely, openly romantic. On our first date, he was holding my hand before we were halfway down the street. His arms were around me, he was actually playing footsie, and he was holding my hand across the dinner table.
I should have loved it, but it freaked me out!
"Listen," I said apologetically, him holding my hand across the dinner table, "I'm just not used to this."
"Do you want me to tone it down? I can stop--"
"No, no, no. It's good." I smiled. "I like it....I'm just not used to it. I need to relax." And I did relaxed. As time has gone on with us, I've gotten used to it, and I love it now.
There are so many other things. He won't let me walk over so much as a puddle -- he will pick me up and carry me across. He has no qualms about randomly feeding me in the middle of a restaurant, about reaching over to wipe something off my lips, about singing along with insanely romantic song lyrics while grinning at me.
It blows me away. There are times when I can't even breathe.
That is what's most notable about the Hott Waiter.
What's also notable is that, strangely enough, I've never dated a guy to whom I was really, really attracted. In fact, the majority of my relationships have been with guys who blindly adored me -- and while I loved the attention, I honestly wasn't attracted to them.
This is new. Because I am so attracted to the Hott Waiter, I am crazy nervous when I'm with him, and I completely clam up! It almost works out because he never stops talking. (Interestingly enough, my roommate just told me that maybe he talks that much because HE is nervous, too!)
It's weird. Because I'm so nervous, I feel like I can't fully be myself. At my most genuine self, I'm the crazy storyteller, making people laugh. I rack and rack my brain when I'm with him, and I can't think of any stories to tell.
I get paranoid when I'm not with him. I'll be nonchalant, but on the inside, I start freaking out and thinking, "NOW it's it. NOW he won't want to see me again. NOW he'll think I'm weird; NOW he'll think we'll be through."
But each time, we get together again and have an amazing time nonetheless.
Particularly these past two evenings. (My roommates are going to kill me.)
Am I setting myself up for failure? Am I trying to get myself to expect something bad because even if it fails, I can turn to myself and acknowledge that at least I was right all along?
I need to relax....
In fact, I feel as if I don't want to write about it -- not in too much detail, anyway. I like holding it close to me, feeling like it's something special. I keep it special because I don't reveal too much.
Well, in the past two weeks, the Hott Waiter and I had our pivotal first date, we spontaneously met up at clubs twice, and we spent time at each other's places after that....
Here are a few things that struck me:
He is intensely, openly romantic. On our first date, he was holding my hand before we were halfway down the street. His arms were around me, he was actually playing footsie, and he was holding my hand across the dinner table.
I should have loved it, but it freaked me out!
"Listen," I said apologetically, him holding my hand across the dinner table, "I'm just not used to this."
"Do you want me to tone it down? I can stop--"
"No, no, no. It's good." I smiled. "I like it....I'm just not used to it. I need to relax." And I did relaxed. As time has gone on with us, I've gotten used to it, and I love it now.
There are so many other things. He won't let me walk over so much as a puddle -- he will pick me up and carry me across. He has no qualms about randomly feeding me in the middle of a restaurant, about reaching over to wipe something off my lips, about singing along with insanely romantic song lyrics while grinning at me.
It blows me away. There are times when I can't even breathe.
That is what's most notable about the Hott Waiter.
What's also notable is that, strangely enough, I've never dated a guy to whom I was really, really attracted. In fact, the majority of my relationships have been with guys who blindly adored me -- and while I loved the attention, I honestly wasn't attracted to them.
This is new. Because I am so attracted to the Hott Waiter, I am crazy nervous when I'm with him, and I completely clam up! It almost works out because he never stops talking. (Interestingly enough, my roommate just told me that maybe he talks that much because HE is nervous, too!)
It's weird. Because I'm so nervous, I feel like I can't fully be myself. At my most genuine self, I'm the crazy storyteller, making people laugh. I rack and rack my brain when I'm with him, and I can't think of any stories to tell.
I get paranoid when I'm not with him. I'll be nonchalant, but on the inside, I start freaking out and thinking, "NOW it's it. NOW he won't want to see me again. NOW he'll think I'm weird; NOW he'll think we'll be through."
But each time, we get together again and have an amazing time nonetheless.
Particularly these past two evenings. (My roommates are going to kill me.)
Am I setting myself up for failure? Am I trying to get myself to expect something bad because even if it fails, I can turn to myself and acknowledge that at least I was right all along?
I need to relax....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
