Monday, September 29, 2008

manifesto type-ish thing

I’m smart, vivacious, fairly ambitious, and I’m on the shy side of 30. Not to mention I have enough charming personality for a small country, a sense of humor, I’m articulate, I have an overall happy outlook on life, and I’m a pretty girl as the clichéd cherry on top. Beauty and brains can coexist in a person. Modesty may not be one of my strong qualities though… You would think I’d be an uber-bitch, but I’m nice too. Really nice, card carrying member of the goody-two shoes club nice. So for all intents and purposes, I’m a freaking catch.

But I’m not that girl right now. I called off my engagement for good and I’m a bitterly disappointed broken hearted emotional mess at the moment. And even though I know it does get better, in fact it already has, you feel that your life sucks really bad. I am moving on and the proverbial other doors have been thrown open. I always believed the “it does get better” through all of this and that I did the right thing. My friends and family have been the support system I didn’t have in my former fiancé, and without them, I would be a lot worse. I’ve put on a brave face and smiled to the world, I’ve been genuinely happy when it counted. But the pain is still there. It’s not the anguish it once was; it’s subdued itself to a niggling part of everyday life. And as simple as it sounds to let go, it’s actually very hard. That pain, as irksome as it is, is all you have left of what you thought was your future. Sometimes, you just want to lick your wounds, cry the fat sloppy tears while sobs rip through your chest, and be left alone while you do so. I’ve been there. I’m still there sometimes. The straw breaks the camel’s back, you simply feel miserable and holding it together isn’t an option for the moment.

It does get better though, as I’ve already mentioned. And now that I have the closure I needed, I’m giddily looking forward at better life plans. I may never get who I was before the engagement back 100%, but that person was willing to settle. So I’ll be a different 100%, new and improved and whatnot. I will still wallow in self pity at times, and the bitterness will flare its head at an inopportune moment. But I’ll be back to the woman who knows she’s a catch here soon, modesty be damned.

proof that I am funny

Disclaimer: names have been changed due to my sheer embarrassment. Some of my friends have already read this, but It's still a funny story.
My 3 ex's

I’m really really girly. I think it’s safe to say I’m the girliest thing you’ll ever meet. I giggle, use the word cute extensively and my favorite color is pink. You don’t look at me and say ”she’s a butch one.” So it a little ironic that something so feminine can have 3 gay ex-boyfriends in a row, within a 2 year time span.

My story begins where all good stories begin: college.
My freshman year I lived in the all girl dorm, aka the “Virgin Vault” or “Promise Land” depending who you asked. An all girl hall wasn’t my ideal living situation, but remember that female friends have male friends. There was plenty of intermingling between our 18-year-old hormonally-charged-selves in our no rules environment. There was hardly a shortage of testosterone, and when fall rush came around, so did the best part of it all: frat boys.

Enter Mike; he was everything I wanted at the moment:
frat boy and blond. I was introduced to him by chance when walking back from class with a fellow Virgin Vaulter. We exchanged pleasantries, and parted ways. No love lost I thought, I figured I wouldn’t see him again, and he smoked, a deal breaker in my book. But something like six weeks later; we’re exclusive. He was a smoker all right, but he was “trying to quit,” so that made it ok. The bonus of a frat boy boyfriend is that he came with frat boy friends. They were equal parts good looking to jack ass. I didn’t try to understand the frat-guy-mentality. They beat each other up, drew phallic symbols on each other’s passed out faces, called each other obscenities while trying to sleep with everyone else’s date including their own. In hindsight, these guys are idiots, but they seemed to enjoy berating anyone they could for the hell of it. So when they would call Mike gay, I considered it the verbal equivalent of a ball-tag. No reason for it, it’s just really funny to watch the guy go down.

Despite all those aforementioned charms, we didn’t
last. And not only did not last, we ended baaaad. There was crying and then begging, 97% of it from him. He broke it off then pleaded for me to take him back, 6 hours later. He begged, cried, and waited outside my building for a few hours in hopes I would at least come down to talk to him. This gesture could have been construed as romantic, if you negate the fact I was livid. I would have rather thrown something sharp out my window at him, but I have really bad aim. After careful-ish consideration, I decided to not take his immature-still-smoking-had-dumped-me ass back. I left a month later for summer vacation, and I though I never had to deal with this guy again.

Fall came, and I had a new lease on life to go along with the new school year. Here’s where the gay’s guys start to pop up (dirty). At some sort of function, I ran into the friend who had introduced me to Mike. After the classic jumping grabbing the elbows while screaming I’ve-missed-you-so-much-hug, she drops the bombshell: “Mike’s bi.” She filled me in on the details of his male experimentation over the summer as my mouth fell further and further. After several rounds of no way’s nuh-uh’s and eww eww eeeeeww’s, I knew one thing for certain, he was probably diseased by now. And I was going to tell everyone.

I was shell shocked to say the least. All the frat boy comments came screaming back. How had they seen this and not me? He had wimped out of the fraternity during hell week and cried, bawled actually. He was a touchy with his friend Dave. He read my Cosmo’s before I was finished with them. He liked my pretty smelling lotions and took me shopping. He loved dancing, and wanted to paint my toenails. All that time I thought it could have been love; when it turns out we wanted the same thing, men.

That same night I went to a party where I tried to get my mind off of that recent news flash. There I spotted this devilishly handsome guy having a grand time dancing to Billie Jean, which should have been my first clue. Later that night he complimented my ring before he noticed my chest, second clue. But he was Italian and had dark hair, the opposite of my recently-discovered-his-sexual-orientation-ex. Plus he had thick and unruly eyebrows, clearly, he was strait. Now he may have been skinny, a really good dancer, and had a few moments of limp wrist, but damit, he was good looking. After couple dates later, my friends were raising eyebrows and insinuations. Despite my best efforts, the limp wrist moments weren’t flukes and were proof enough. Unlike the previous relationship though, we ended amicably. We lost interest in each other and I was tired of defending his sexuality. And just as before, I was quick to move on.

Now this guy, Trent, was the crème de la crème. Even I knew he was gay. Admittedly, my gaydar isn’t the sharpest considering I hadn’t seen the last two coming. So if I think you’re gay, you’re gay. This guy charred anything in his path he was so flaming. So imagine my surprise to find he has a crush on me. Imagine everyone’s surprise when I accepted a date. I had my reasons, I was kinda lonely, and he was kinda pretty.

The date didn’t change my opinion of him; in fact it reaffirmed my belief. He shared too much and as an immaculate dresser. He didn’t even try to understand sports and cried during Disney movies. He had a blush brush to apply bronzer. I don’t even wear bronzer. This guy was gay; the only one who didn’t admit it was him. I was the biggest advocate of the “just come out already campaign.” But he made decent arm candy which was all I could handle at the moment. As long as he didn’t talk much and stayed still he might have been able to pass for a just a well dressed pretty boy. But he kept opening his mouth and flailing those damn hands around. And then it finally it was too much. He got a tattoo. Of his astrological sign. On his pelvis. I ended things then. He had passed GO, gotten the $200 and owned the monopoly on fruitcake.

There I was, not even 20 with 3 gay ex-boyfriends. And I know that bi’s not technically gay, but bi is just a train stop on the way to gay-town (A Sex and the City quote mind you). Plus three gay exes evoke more sympathy then 2 and a half and makes a hell of a lot better story. I understand that college is a time when people discover who they really are, and coming out is the status quo. But seriously, 3 in a row? Since I was the last girl they had all dated, I was deemed the catalyst. Talk about blow to your self-esteem. If there’s something mannish about me, I’d like to know. It was decided that I was cursed, so I refrained from dating for a while. At the rate I was turning them, there would be no strait guys left by the time I left college. I had to stop dating to keep the population going. Over time, the curse relented and I’ve been snagging strait ones pretty consistently. But my gaydar still sucks.

Sunday, September 28, 2008

Getting to know you

My friend Jeanne did this when she just started her blog, so I totally jenked it and did it for myself. Read up!
1. My favorite color is pink
2. I’m a complete girly girl
3. I’m really 5’4 1/2”, but I claim I’m 5’5”
4. My lucky number is 4
5. I like even numbers better then odd.
6. I like to talk. A lot. A whole lot
7. If I’m not talking, I am only one of two options A: tired or B: mad as hell
8. I know so much random pop culture stuff, but not as much as my friend LB
9. I have moved 17 times in the past 7 years. I know because I counted
10. I am an excellent and efficient packer though.
11. I hate apartment hunting
12. I have freckles, but only across my nose
13. My default favorite ice cream flavor is strawberry
14. I have been told on several occasions I have really soft skin, but I enjoy hearing it every time
15. I don’t believe in “the one” (but that could be the bitter talking at the moment)
16. I have fairly traditional views, not to be confused with conservative
17. I want to have a family of my own
18. I am absolutely the married with babies girl
19. I believe I can do motherhood and have a career too
20. I love to cook and try new recipes
21. I like to bake too
22. I will try almost anything food wise at least once
23. I loathe cooked carrots, something about the texture and taste, just blech
24. Lace is my favorite fabric
25. I have spent around $150 (give or take) at almost every single Victoria’s Secret semi annual sale I have been too.
26. I really like underwear, clearly
27. I got the saying “clearly,” from Jeanne
28. I do whatever Jeanne tells me to
29. I’m an absolute email junkie
30. My friends and I have sent over 100 emails in one day before
31. I’m a good kisser
32. I’m not as promiscuous as people think
33. I’m a card carrying member of the goody-two-shoes club
34. I’m a huge dork
35. I stick to the rules, I very rarely break them
36. I’m allergic to cats
37. I’m a lot of talk the talk, but not so much walk the walk
38. I don’t know a second language; I just don’t “get” them. Suck it French class.
39. I love roller coasters, the faster the better
40. My appendix ruptured and had to be removed when I was 6
41. I had my belly button pierced until I was 21; I took it out after a drunk wrestling match went horribly, horribly wrong
42. I don’t have any tattoos
43. Honestly, I think 99% of tattoos are trashy. Ostracize away
44. I hate making people mad or upset
45. I fight passive aggressive with passive aggressive (angry emails anyone?)
46. I’ve said I love you and not meant it
47. But I wanted to
48. I find power incredibly attractive
49.I used to have a thing for rock stars. Now I think they’re pointless entities.
50. I love bourbon, I’m such a proud Kentucky girl
51. Wine goes strait to my head and then makes me sleepy
52. I’m a light weight, so it takes half the drinks, time and cost of you, so there.
53. I cannot parallel park
54. I think poetry is an absolute waste on me
55. Same goes for most song lyrics too
56. I think “Sweetest Day” is a bull shit
57. I cheer for the home team
58. I do need my coffee in the morning to function, but I truly enjoy it as well
59. I bite and/or pick at my nails when nervous or stressed.
60. I think I’m the only person who do not watch American Idol
61. I do watch a lot of other (quite possibly even crappier) tv though
62. I tempted to bitch slap stupid people
63. I think rude people are unnecessary
64. I’m a firm believer in karma
65. I don’t judge my friends
66. But everyone else is fair game
67. I believe in pills/medication. I think “toughing it out” is bull
68. I hate, hate hate, picking out paint colors
69. I spent 6 years in school to realize I did not want to be a designer (sorry mom and dad)
70. I’ve never been pulled over (knock on wood)
71. I’ve run (and finished!) a half-marathon, and I’m going do another one in the spring
72. I don’t consider myself a runner though
73. I throw a really good bridal shower
74. I love high heels, even if they kill my legs for days afterwards
75. I still take bubble baths
76. Never have and never will sky dive, because it scares the crap out of me
77. I hate when people use “u” instead of you. Write out the damn word
78. I will always wear eyeliner and mascara if no other makeup
79. I don’t play sports, especially ones that involve balls and teams
80. I don’t know what my favorite flower is
81. I’m an absolute sucker for chivalry. Open the door for me damn it
82. And pick me up at my front door while your being a gentleman.
83. I’m terrified of snakes. TERRIFIED
84. If the song is not in the top 40, I haven’t heard it, nor do I care about it
85. I have no problem selling out
86. I believe Walmart is evil and avoid shopping there at all cost
87. But I love Target and will buy everything under the sun from them
88. Patience is a virtue I do not posses
89. I’m still a temper tantrum kind of girl, I throw stuff and my aim’s getting better
90. I’m a social butterfly
91. I have the worst passport photo ever
92. I don’t trust vegans
93. I can carry a tune, but I refuse to do karaoke because of stage fright
94. I am easily swayed by food bribes
95. I love a good (or bad) dance movie
96. I cry weddings
97. I’m a silver lining kind of girl
98. I think people mean to have the best intentions; it just doesn’t always come through.
99. I think hope is one of the most powerful and amazing things to exist
100. I believe in a happy ending