Wolverine sex?

No, thank you.

The fact that this guy's book is bestseller makes me cringe.

Today

You know the awkward feeling the day after a fight? No? It's like, somehow after some heated words, you forget how to interact with a person you know intimately.




That would be me and A today.

Caught Between a Rock and a Soft Place

The Comic: brutally honest. Blatantly affectionate. He's been telling me who he is since day 1. Like it or leave it. But I like it. It hasn't always been easy. We both try and explain ourselves all the time. "I hate being told what to do," he says. And I counter with, "I'm not changing who I am for you." Neither is asking what the other is contesting. But we're both afraid that if we don't say it, we won't get it. He could be the passionate love of my life. Or he could split my heart open and crush the pieces.

The Hometown Boy: I hadn't heard from him since I was 19 years old. We had drinks on Tuesday and it was perfect. We can go on for twenty minutes, talking in pure sarcasm, and then talk about gay marriage in the most serious tones. "I think someday people will look back on the gay marriage issue like we look at segregation," he said. I was shocked. I use that line all the time.

HB has started texting me. I thought maybe there was an off chance he asked me to drinks as friends. But today he promised to bring me back cookies from our hometown grocery store the next time he's there. I guess we're not friends.

TC is intense as ever. He's all "baby" and "I miss you" and about to move into my neighborhood. He could be someone important to me. But how will I know with the "perfect on paper" HB hanging out in my periphery?

Today

For some odd reason, Valentine's Day always reminds me of this one place...

(MP, I'll have to tell you the story)

The Past, Revisited

It was freezing; the kind of cold that wormed its way into every fold of your jacket and burrowed next to your skin to coat your entire being in chills. I was waiting outside the bar for him but secretly didn’t want him to show. I hate first dates. There is too much pressure and I never come off as myself. I wanted him to see me one more time outside the intimacy of dinner.

He was two drinks in when I finally realized he was sitting at the bar waiting for me, instead of standing outside… like a fool.

“Should we order sake?” he asked after we sat down at the sushi place he had suggested.
“I’m not a big sake fan,” I told him. He ordered it anyway, poured me a tiny glass which sat untouched throughout the entire meal, and drank the bottle in its entirety by himself. He talked about himself for the duration of the date: his painting, his bar, his family, his childhood. I could write the brief history of L. after having spent one night with this person. And to top it all off, he seemed completely disinterested every time I brought up something about myself.

He walked me to the subway after paying for dinner and asked if I wanted to go somewhere for another drink. The last thing you need is another drink. “I should really get home,” I said as vaguely as possible. I couldn’t even gauge if I liked this guy because he was clearly nervous and clearly dealing with it in a bizarre way.

“I feel like I did something wrong,” he said bluntly. I didn’t know how to say that getting wasted on our first date qualifies as way, way more than ‘something wrong.’ We said goodnight and I went home and felt confused. He was a nice guy. Thirty-three years old, owned his own bar and restaurant with amazing food that I really respected, and a talented painter in his spare time. I wanted to give him another shot.

I did, it was more of the same, and I found myself not particularly caring if I saw him again. He called a few times and when I didn’t respond, he made some angry, jilted comments about me to a mutual friend. I washed my hands of it.

Until today. Two years later, almost to the day. A Gchat message.
“What was that town by where you grew up? The one ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ is based on?”
“Um, hello there, stranger. It’s called Seneca Falls.”
“That’s right! Thanks. Awesome.”
We started chatting, he asked how I was doing, what I was doing, where I was living. He seemed happier than he was when we went out, incredibly optimistic.

“So,” he began. “Do you like sushi?”
“Yeah.”
“There’s this great place…”
“Blue Ribbon?”
“How did you know that?!”
“You took me there!”
“Oh right… I’ve been dying to go back.”
“Yeah, it was great food.”
“Let’s go!” What? Huh? Quoi? I’m sorry, are you asking me on a date two years later?
“Are you sure you want to go with me?” I asked. I felt I could match his boldness.
“Why not?”
“Well… we argued a lot.” Because you are an argumentative person.
“I think it was a miscommunication. I was really sick the last time we went out.”
I decided to give in. He was persistent if nothing else. And I did promise myself I’d be more open minded when it came to guys, so as not to pass up a great opportunity in case one should stare me in the face in a less-than-perfect package.

We agreed to meet on January 5. And what a busy January it will be.

Project O.C.: Halt

I left something out. Something I chalked up to the alcohol. He was so great otherwise, why let this one little thing taint the entire night, much less the blog post? But then today he came by my office and that tiny little thing hit me like a searing hot metal poker in my side. I couldn't ignore it anymore.

He stood in the doorway of my office and handed me a white envelope with a shaky hand. “Hey. I have a card for you. Sorry… about the envelope… I messed up and then I ran out and I had to make it. So, I hope you have fun with your friend tonight and I’ll see you when we get back from break.”

All I could say was “thank you.” He walked away and I stared at the envelope. It was folded so tightly around the card that I couldn’t even pull it out. My brain thumped against the walls of my skull. The tiny thing from Tuesday night echoed in my thoughts… not so tiny anymore. I imagined an engagement ring falling out of this envelope.

“Lauren, I hope you and your family have a lovely and relaxing holiday season and a happy new year. I look forward to seeing you when we return from break. Sincerely, M.F.” He signed his full name. The entire note was written in beautiful, curvy, feminine script. We hadn’t even been on a single date yet and already it was too much. It was way, way too much. And then the little thing in my brain… clear as a bell.

Drunkenly whispered in the back of the cab, “Lauren… I love you.” Suddenly I wished the OC had stayed a fantasy.

An Apple a Day

I like to consider myself a writer but occasionally, I find myself echoing my favorite lyricists because their words are emblazoned in my mind. And today, no one says it better than Fiona Apple:

"I don't understand about diamonds and why men buy them.

What's so impressive about a diamond except the mining?

But it's dangerous work trying to get to you, too.

And I think if I didn't have to

Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill myself doing it

Maybe I wouldn't think so much of you..."

We won't admit we like the games but we can admit we like the chase. There is something incredibly off putting about a guy who puts in too much effort in the first place. This weekend I ran into The Kiwi at a random bar on a random street where he randomly happened to pop in to use the bathroom and I randomly happened by a birthday party for a single random drink. The Kiwi asked me out last year (he bartended near my old retail job) and he took me out for Indian food -- a meal during which he confessed that he was married. But don't worry! Only for the green card.

"I hope that doesn't change things between us."

The Kiwi was more than a little excited to run into me last weekend and I've received at least eight texts in the last few days asking how I've been, what I'm doing, and if he can see me this week. It isn't even the fact that he's "married": he's just too into me. Meanwhile, I'm still smitten with The Boy whom I haven't heard from since a sweet kiss goodbye last weekend and an, "I'll see you Thursday" to follow. Truth be told, I'm sure if I didn't have to kill, kill, kill, kill, kill myself doing it...

Connecting

I admit it.

I troll Craigslist Missed Connections every now and again. Not that I need to justify this behavior, but it is the single most interesting cross-section of humanity possibly ever. From the pathetic to the perverse, the hopeful to the hateful, it's really unbelievable what anonymity and technology provide. End of justification.

I never expected to read one about myself. Actually, that's only half true. Deep down I secretly wished that that adorable spectacled fellow at that cafe sipping that latte would write about that time we caught each others' eyes while reading those books. Or something of the sort. Realistically, I knew the chances were slim. And then I read one about myself.

Oh, here's one from the concert I took that dumb boy to! Girl was at show with boy who seemed bored out of his mind, we made eyes, you pick the next show, and I promise to have a good time. How funny, I think, this could've been me, though in all likelihood it's not me ... meh, I'm in a silly mood, I'll just reply anyway and ask what row.

We went on three dates. He was a great guy, but it wasn't really there, great story notwithstanding.

That was two and a half months ago. Haven't spoken to him since. Then I saw him last week at (where else?) another concert.

I grabbed his arm. Mutual surprise. He was with a girl. Exiting the venue, we chatted for a minute. And then, in the cold night, we looked at each other unblinkingly for a couple of seconds, bemused expressions on our faces.

How funny indeed.

Textimony, Part Two

two days later...

Him: Aww. You didn't have to erase me from facebook. Erase me from your life. Before when I called you all I wanted to do was talk. How are you how am I. I wasn't ...
H: asking you for anything. Just you in my life though not much just a hello. Now I don't even have facebook and you won't answer. It's ok but why do you want me to ...
H: disappear? I guess that's what you want. For me to disappear. You want to know nothing about me? About what is going on in my life?
H: And you were the one who said that you check my facebook and myspace everyday. I don't. I just don't want to lose contact. Especially if something important ...
H: happens to me that I wish to share with you. You even put that feature where I can't find you! Ha. It's really ok I understand I just didn't want to lose you all ...
H: together! Ok sorry. I will leave you alonesies. Really. Adios. Good luck!!

Technology, a blessing and a curse.

Textimony

Me: Do you have work tomorrow?
Him: No. I've called you.
H: What's going on?
M: I want to talk to you about it, but if you don't want to it's understandable.
H: Well talk about what first off?
H: Please tell me?
M: Nevermind, just let it be as it is.
H: You can't do that. That's mean. Please? I've tried to call. Just tell me. It's important.
H: I don't even know what's going on.
M: It's been two years since you destroyed me in front of the cafe, and that's just too long.
H: Destroyed is a horrible word. It hurt me so much too you don't even know.
H: What's going on?
M: There's no one new. I'm just done.
H: Ok. I'm sorry. Good luck. I deserve it. I know I do.
H: I deserve to have lost such a wonderful thing in my life. I love you and always always will. I think about you everyday. This is sad.
H: I'm at a loss for words. Or just at a loss. Hope you enjoyed your trip to NYC.
H: I wish the best for you really.

Well well...

what do we have here?

Ahem.

Give credit where it's due, NYT.

(only kidding, of course, but still neat to note the similarity of the above series to this humble blog)