Bitch, what? Volume 1

I’m dying. Not literally. But I found my diary from my freshman year of college, and it’s a train wreck. Before I even got to the first entry, I opened the diary to see that, on the inside cover, I wrote out the lyrics to Black Balloon by the Goo Goo Dolls.

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Why, you ask? Wonderful question.

This specific lyric: “A thousand other boys could never reach you. How could I have been the one?” This may or may not refer to a guy who, at the time, I thought was the be all end all of my life (but who is now waiting tables at like, a Chili’s, and doesn’t have a license due to numerous DUIs). In high school (and almost all of my 20s), it was hard for me to let people in, especially guys. So when Mr. Baby Back Ribs swooped in, I felt all bajiggity.

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This feeling of bliss lasted approximately two weeks before he hard passed on our situation and I was left with nothing but morose song lyrics.

It was bad – this happened at the end of my senior year of high school; and well into my freshman year of college I was still pining over this idiot rather than trying to shift my focus to guys at school who were present rather than 1,500 miles away and probably forgot I even existed.

The first entry of this diary was December 26, 1999. Even though I was in my freshman year of college, I spent a lot of time talking about my failed crushes from middle school and high school – you know, to set the stage.

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This little excerpt is where I started laughing and dry heaving at the same time:

Second semester rolled around (1997) and that was when I truly believed in love at first sight. I met (name redacted) in my gym class. He supposedly liked me, but by the time I finally got up the nerve to ask him out, he told me he was “grounded.” The truth was, he was going out with someone else. This was probably the beginning of March when I asked him out. I wouldn’t talk to him for at least a week until he finally apologized. Then we were friends in a  very casual sense of the word.

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Okay – first of all, (name redacted) was obviously a fucking liar. Second of all, I had a crush on like 19 other people at the same time, but he was always in my top five. He was so messed up – he played more than just me, and then started dating Skanky McBitchFace for quite some time until she cheated on HIM, and it was all just a giant disaster. Moral of the story – gym class sucks.

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Oh, but it gets better. At the same time I was pining over (name redacted), my friend Whitney asked me to help her in the drama club with props for a play they were working on. I said yes because there was a senior, Chad, in the play who I had a crush on. However, at the end of the first rehearsal is when I laid eyes on Someone Else. Immediately, I decided I was in love. (I remember very distinctly that Someone Else gave me a ride home from rehearsal one night and “Wannabe” by the Spice Girls came on the radio and he started singing and I pretty much figured life would never get better than that.)

And then…

At drama festival in March, I wigged out when he was all over a girl from another school. That was pretty much the worst day of my life.

Just so there is no confusion, this March I keep speaking of is March of the same year, 1997. So I was equally obsessed with (name redacted) and Someone Else and had already decided I’d experienced the worst day of my life because Someone Else spent the day pawing over a girl from another high school whose name escapes me because who cares.

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Now it gets ever more cringeworthy – first of all because this is something I wrote about as a freshman in college and it is all high school shit and second of all:

In March or April (STILL THE SAME FUCKING YEAR):

I met Mac. I had a crush on him and so did my friend K. K and I both had a crush on this guy D, but he liked me so we had maybe a four day fling (we never even kissed) but I liked Mac more so I ended it. Then D asked K to his prom (which I wanted to go to because Someone Else would be there). K dumped D for Mac because he liked her and then it gave me an excuse to go back to chasing Someone Else.

They all had my phone number – I wonder why none of them ever called.

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After I wrap up the last two years of high school, complete with writing the most cliche shit ever about Mr. Baby Back Ribs (something about my emotions being too intense and complicated to explain), I proceed to list out all the guys I had kissed up to this point (WITH COMMENTARY). Probably because:

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Some highlights (names withheld):

…Well I don’t know his last name, it was one kiss.

…WHY WHY WHY

…UGGH (this person now has a joint Facebook account with his significant other – bullet dodged)

…sometimes revenge is the worst idea (thank you diary for reminding me of a guy I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT)

…We all make mistakes

As you can see, I was making bad decisions as early as 15 years old.

And yes, I covered all of this in the same entry, 12/26/1999.

So basically, to sum up my success with guys in middle school and high school:

Up Next: actually talking about equally cringeworthy things from college.

 

 

 

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In which we discuss total incompetence

Picture it: Newport Beach, last Saturday (I’m watching a Golden Girls marathon right now so forgive me for channeling Sophia).

Anyway:

You’re hanging out in a bar with your good friend when a random dude and his friend approach you. Eventually random dude tells you that he wants to take you on a date that week (as long as you’re not under 30, because he doesn’t date women under 30). Okay, cool. Sounds great.

The next day you get a “nice to meet you” text but nothing else. Okay, so maybe the date isn’t happening. No big deal. You’re slightly curious as to why he would even text you to begin with if he either 1) didn’t remember you as you suspected he wouldn’t or 2) decided thanks but no thanks. But you should probably check your curiosity at the door.

The day after THAT, at 7:15 pm, you get another text asking if you want to come over THAT night for pizza and a movie. For a first date. At a total stranger’s apartment. Yeah, that sounds like a plan, broseph. So, you decide to just not even dignify that question with a response by literally not responding.

Two days later, you get another text from random dude asking why he didn’t hear from you and you’re all, “because that is NOT the way to ask someone out on a date,” all up on your soapbox of Please Put in the Slightest Modicum of Effort, I’m Begging You.

Random dude tries again and you agree to go out the next night. He’ll call you when he’s done golfing. Except that no, no he won’t. Which brings me to my original question of what was even the point of the FIRST text. Just don’t text me.

So you find yourself sitting there waiting for your phone to ring and then realize that you don’t want to be in THAT PLACE, so you just block him and move on (to write a fictitious blog about this hypothetical situation).

Halfway there

How in the hell are we already halfway done with 2014? I legitimately do not understand. This year is flying, more so than any recent ones that I can remember.

May was a hard month for me. Well, actually in April I was awarded the honor of being Dumbass of the Century when I started seeing B3 again, and then stopped, and then started, and didn’t tell anyone, because of course the sign of a good relationship is when you can’t tell anyone about it because they will be all

And you’re like

Even though they have EVERY RIGHT TO JUDGE YOU BECAUSE MY GOD. And as you write this, you’re all, “oh and B-T-DUBS, he was SUPPOSED to take me out last week for my birthday but instead all I got were texts about the NHL playoffs, which I don’t give a fuck about, so you know what buddy, you can BITE ME.”

But May wasn’t hard for that reason alone, May was hard because at the end of April I got hit in the eye with a softball while attempting (badly) to play in the outfield, and it broke my eye socket, and I had to have very painful surgery and looked like the Bride of Chucky for most of the month. On the bright side, I had a solid dose of Vicodin and was able to dull the pain. But I missed a lot of work and stressed about that because it essentially boiled down to missing work because I can’t catch a fucking softball.

So now, I’m trying to regroup because I’ve been scared to do things like go to the gym and put on eye makeup.

It is truly amazing how much your life can change in a day/month/year.

In which we discuss online dating

One of my friends is on OKCupid, and has really weathered some absolute bullshit because she’s a trooper, and I’ve just listened to her stories over G-Chat, vowing never again to test the waters of online dating.

Well, today she received two messages that just speak for themselves in terms of WTF. First, we have bachelor #1:

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Okay first of all, the grammatical errors. Your vs. you’re is one of the most common yet infuriating grammatical errors that will automatically eliminate you from her and my dating pool. If that makes us snooty bitches, then so be it.

Second of all, who is he kidding with the 300 pounds comment? I mean, sure it was said in jest, but if my friend were even ten pounds heavier than her picture (she’s not) I am sure he’d run for the nearest cliff.

Bachelor #2 sent her something that was EERILY similar:

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Both of them with the weight and the teeth and the misuse of your/you’re. Are these the messages we’re sending now? I don’t even know how to do this anymore but isn’t there a way to be witty without being offensive?

I really wonder what goes in to sending messages like this. Of course I’ve sent many a first message I thought was witty in which I was brutally rebuffed, so who knows. It’s obviously an exact science that involves a certain amount of cleavage and teeth.

But these are two very similar messages from two different people. So originality is out the window.  No wonder shows like I Wanna Marry “Harry” exist. What else is there to do?

Dating is actually the worst, for real, no take backs, no triple stamping a double stamp

Dating. It sucks. It’s a social land mine of broken hearts, bad sex, bad dates, bad kisses and then SOMETIMES you get a really good person that makes you all

but then it ends in ultimate gut-wrenching rejection that makes you want to do nothing but this:

Most of the time, we try to keep a sense of humor about it. Numerous times, I sat with my friends in bars making t-charts to weighs the pros/cons of the current object of my affection.

Example below for Brad, my cruise boyfriend who turned out to live in the same metro-area as I did at the time but afterward was uninterested in continuing our Caribbean fling:

Pros: Adventurous, is a man giant (not entirely true but I do like ’em tall), private spooning, frequents Indiana casinos, is insanely sexual.

*There are other pros I am leaving out for reasons of which I am unwilling to elaborate.

Cons: Lives in suburban HELL, smokes, is really way to old for me, possibly died after amazingness of the cruise, is an old WOMAN (video poker obsession)

See? Casual, funny, whatever. Sure, maybe we wrote that ten Old Styles in after a Cubs game, but it ultimately doesn’t matter.

But lately. Lately it is IMPOSSIBLE to keep a sense of humor about anything. My friend Susan just got dicked over by yet another OKCupid guy. When I was home for Christmas, I saw her the day she was having her first date with this dude. They went for coffee, it went well, and he asked her to come over and hang out at his place for New Years eve.

Things went great, he was in constant communication, told her he couldn’t wait to see her again, and then. Then, today she gets this:

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When I saw this text, my immediate reaction was

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Why. Why do they do this? This is as bad as Bachelor #1 rejecting me but telling me I was so amazing he was going to set me up with someone else. Could you BE any more patronizing? And I would ask the same of this Ben character. Is there some rule among guys we don’t know about where they are obligated to talk to us for approximately four days after we give up the goods or get close to it or entertain the notion enough to keep them wanting more except NO – they fucking disappear? Or they lie about having cancer (true story). Or they tell you they don’t want to hear about you being upset and then ask you if you are still upset.

If you don’t want to date – DO NOT JOIN A DATING WEB SITE. Why is this concept lost on so many people? Chicks do it too (I’m sure), so this is not specific to guys, but since I don’t date chicks, this current rant is directed at Bachelor’s 1,3, and this Ben dude.

In B3’s defense, he isn’t on any dating sites (that I know of) and told me he sucks at dating, but he is giving me just enough to think he cares because I am sure that his hope is that in a moment of weakness, I will crack and ask him to do stuff. But I know he doesn’t care- as the song goes

Okay, so anyway, new rule: if you are not looking to date, and just want to store up for your inner sexual camel, go trolling bars or Craigslist. Got it? Good, thanks.

Now I’m a Delilah caller

I used to listen to Delilah in high school/college, though I am not sure why. But I feel like all her calls are one of two extremes: some over the top in love person rubbing it in our faces, in which D will play one of three songs she keeps in rotation, or the person that just had their heart wrenched out of them through their feet and feels like there is no other option than to call this random bitch and tell her and then she goes and plays some stupid irrelevant song like “Somewhere Out There.”

Last night, I told Bachelor #3 we needed to take a break. He sent me a text that, while was completely a joke, made me extremely upset because of the intent behind the text. It was that wake up call I needed – he would be FINE with me dating other people, while the thought of HIM dating other people is like

So, after I calmly told him that we clearly weren’t on the same page and I had to jump ship, I lost my shit in the parking garage. But at least I didn’t cry on the phone.

It’s for the best, because the more we hung out, the further in I fell, while he stayed in the same place. Plus. I don’t know. I don’t get what he sees when he looks at me. Gisele, I am not. I look in the mirror, and see

which means the constant stress of worrying that eventually he’ll realize I’m a 5 AT BEST was totally cutting in to my fun.

So, it sucks, but it had to happen. And now….?

I’m a Britney Spears song

I’m still hanging out with Bachelor #3. We’re in quite the grey area right now and it’s too soon to ask him to define anything, lest I send him running for the hills. Yes, I am aware it’s my own fault. And while things are going well and we seem to have moved past the misunderstandings we’ve had, I still consider him a flight risk. But mostly, I like him. I like the way he laughs, and that we can talk about anything, and I love the way he teases me, and holds my hand, and remembers random things I tell him, and etc etc etc. I don’t like that he’s still trying to maintain some sort of distance and that I am stressing out about even texting him right now because he’s obviously not ready for something serious and I need to respect that and why is dating so FUCKING hard? I’m also just biding my time until he disappears. At which point, my only logical thought process will be

You know all the rules – don’t appear too eager, let him come to you, play hard to get, etc.

Rules, that by the way, make us look like…

And if I follow them or I don’t, it never really matters.  They disappear anyway. In fact, I am curious as to why B3 hasn’t disappeared already. We made plans to hang out this past Sunday and watch football, so I asked him if he wanted to pick me up before the first games started. He said it would depend on how late he was out on Saturday. I spent a good portion of the early hours of Sunday morning convinced he was blowing me off, and it was over, when it reality, he only ended up picking me up 30 minutes later than I had originally suggested.

We ended up having a lot of fun, but now I’m not sure what our next plan is.

What I WANT to do is ask him to go to Catalina for the day or something, because as much as I love watching sports with him, we need to do something else, but I’ll probably come off looking like this:

So, there’s the part of me that thinks he likes me and he’s just not ready, and the other side of me that thinks he’s Gamey McPlayerson. Except … I don’t know – take Mr. Titspervert for example. He told me he didn’t want anything serious and dropped off the face of the planet. B3 told me he didn’t want anything serious but is sticking around for whatever reason. Between Mr. TP and John Doe, my basis for comparison is so fucked up I don’t know my head from my ass:

This is all very confusing. I’ll see myself out.