Marches

The month is half way over and for whatever reason I think something is happening. I've felt this way since the start of 2012. March has been on my radar. No real reason except a feeling I've had for months. It's like a song stuck in my head.

A tarot card reader confirmed it because three 3's were lined up at one point during my reading. He said I would be given an offer from someone in my past but I already know how I'm going to respond. Vague and yet an annoyingly exact prediction at the same time. There's been no offer yet but there's been a shift. Small, slow signs from the outside world.

One of my best friend whose notorious for being a commitment phobe is letting her boyfriend of two months move in with her. This may not seem like a big deal but it's like a meat eater turning vegetarian over night. Also, she met him online. She had always been very anti-online dating and decided to give it a shot. Her one and only date was with this guy.

I was home going through cluttered drawers this past weekend and I found something my Grandma left for me that I wasn't supposed to find. There was a note on it that it was from her, to be given to me on my wedding day. I put it back and was shaken the rest of the day.

It's not that I had resigned myself to not get married but I had stopped thinking it was for me, like a hat that doesn't fit right.

Then I found that gift that was given in the past to a hypothetical future me. And it reminded me that getting married isn't just a reflection of how I feel now about long term relationships (cough cynical cough) it's about a set part of life that for whatever reason, needs to be experienced. In good or bad, like everything else, it's a chapter that should be included.

I don't know what these signs mean...I'm ready for love? The universe thinks I am? Is the offer going to come from me rather than someone else?

I hate tarot cards. They're torturous little pieces of cardboard.

Cards aside, March has something about it.

Maybe it's the summer weather or my new shopping addiction, or the premier of Hunger Games around the corner.

I'm telling you though, there's something about this month.

At the very least, girl scout cookies are coming in this month, so that's a plus.

The Yes Pact

Recently I’ve realized I’ve been drinking and going out a lot. I don’t regret it. I’m just in a phase of saying yes.

My grandmother passed away three years ago this May. What is three years? Such an off, insignificant number. It’s a number that’s blurry compared to two or five. It hardly stands out. It’s still there though.

Three. It leaves an uncomfortable, unsettling feeling.

When I really let myself think about her being gone, I mean really accept it- my world crashes down and I just sit and cry. I feel her emptiness at its fullness.

I let myself realize that she’s not in some other state outside of communication. She’s void. And I fall apart again. She tied my family together.

And it’s been years now, and I still don’t know how to bring us together.

I’m the ‘youngest adult’ so I have the fight in me or else the real adults are too old and the young ones just don’t realize. But that’s for another blog.

My point is about her and why I’ve been saying yes more.

She didn’t want to go out the night she met her husband. From what I heard he turned out to be a drunk. The details have been spared me.

But I still can’t help but remember more often than not...she had originally said no. Shortly later she had a husband and two boys, and eventually, me. She wanted to stay in.

Something...her friends, made her say yes to venturing out. So she did.
So now, I say yes. It doesn’t mean I expect perfect, it just means I expect what I have now, a story. And maybe one day, if I say yes enough...I’ll have something more.

The Most Interesting Douche In the World

It took me meeting and hooking up with a world class douche in Vegas to realize that douches shouldn’t be ignored so quickly. I used to thing these downtown bankers were self absorbed and superficial. Now I’ve gotten a closer look and seen they actually have a lot to offer us smart, single ladies.

I saw Tom from a distance in a club at the Bellagio and promptly and cooly put myself in his line of site. And by ‘myself’ I mean my cleavage. The mating dance continued as we friendly nudged each other and made casual comments about Vegas and the club. It was then the dancing begun. And it didn’t stop for hours. We took breaks to go the watering hole and refuel with tequila and vodka. During which he showed off his talented skills like how to light a cigarette with a match just using his mouth and one hand.

I thought I had hit the jackpot in finding someone so convenient and confident in using his hands and mouth simultaneously, but then he amazed me more by showing off his thousand dollar chips. Later, after more hot and sweaty dancing that even Patrick Swayze would be jealous of we hit the tables. I turned into the role of sexy side girl at the blackjack table. I ooh’d and awe’d as he spoke to his cards more than me. He referred to his Queen card as ‘Lady’ about ten times. I got jealous quicker than I wanted to. But then he’d kiss me and tell me he loved me when he won and grumble and chain smoke when he lost.

In the end, he lost big and impatiently chain smoked as I drank White Russians and played roulette. After I lost, we went up to his hotel room. It took us a few minutes to get into the actual room since he had to shuffle through half a dozen different hotel room keys. Instead of seeing the red flag, I could only focus on the fact at how smoothly he slid the cards around in his hand.

The hot and heavy part lasted about 10 minutes because as I was returning the favor, he passed out. Instead of leaving I waited patiently for him to wake up and get a second wind. He groggily got up a few minutes later asking what happened. I told him and he laid back down. Just as I was about to remind him that I didn’t come to Vegas to snuggle, he got up and stared at the floor. He picked something up along with my purse and held it out to me.

“You stole from me” he said loudly. I tried to see what was in his hand. It wasn’t a chip or cash or a credit card. Maybe a piece of paper.
“What are you talking about?” I said. We went back and forth like this for a few minutes until he firmly told me to leave. I got dressed and grabbed my purse and shoes in a total confused state.

I was walking out when he placed his hand gently on my lower back as if we had just met.

“Let me zip up your dress.” he said. He slowly zipped me up and opened the door for me. I took one step out and heard the door slam behind me.

I'm back in my own city, catching up on sleep and have found him on facebook. I'm a good searcher ok? Not a stalker. Well it's a thin line. His facebook picture is him posing with a live tiger. Are we really suprised by this?

In one sense I'm pissed off about being treated that way but on the other hand, I'm fascinated by the entire night and our manic time together that I'd almost expand my guy search to include the Financial District. I was a different version of myself this weekend so of course, I meet a VERY different guy.

And if a weekend like that can happen in Vegas, maybe one day I'll meet a guy who can light a cigarette with a match in one hand and then maybe not kick me out at the end of the night. Who knows?

What Vegas Taught Me in 3 Days

If you aren’t getting laid at 6AM then you’re probably crying about not getting laid.

If you’re winning that doesn’t mean take more risks.

If the guy you’re hoping to sleep with loses 3 grand at Blackjack and then invites you to his hotel room, say no. He may pass out mid hook up, accuse you of stealing his money and then kick you out.

You can always sleep later.

Don’t plan everything. Somethings are meant to be wung.

Flirt, flirt and flirt even more.

Remember that showing cleavage isn’t a crime.

Drink Bloody Marys as early as possible on a Saturday. Always with an extra spicy kick.

Drink White Russians while at the tables.

Take more than 1 shot of tequila.

Let Vegas drama, stay in Vegas.

Red stilettos, red lipsticks plus a low hung red dress is pretty damn empowering.

Dance, even if you're sweating your makeup off and haven't looked at the time in hours, just keep dancing.

Save a horse, ride a cowboy. And if you don't end up getting laid, then ride a horse. The desert, at sunset, on a horse is breath-taking.

Remember this guy...

He emailed me out of the blue and asked if he could come into town to take me out to lunch...

clearly at this point I already knew what the gist was, but he decided to email me recently to put it all in black and white. Remember, I haven't seen this guy since 2004...

His email: the following question might need some context and may seem forward - what are your feelings on casual sexual relationships?

My reply: Haha- overall they tend to be a good idea. I don't judge people for having them. Depends on the context though.

His reply: well, the context might be more fun over lunch. but here's the jist of things: I'm currently in an open relationship, so if you required attention of a intimate nature, after a lunch date, then I wouldn't hesitate to volunteer.

this is by no means the focus of us getting together - however, if it happened that an encounter such as this fit your a.) moral standings, b.) current relationship availability, and c.) time availability - it might be something to consider. knowing people's emotions towards to concept of open relationships is understandable. so if it didn't vibe well with your world view, then no pressure :)

End scene.

Sooo in short if online dating or meeting my man in a coffee shop doesn't pan out I can always become a mistress apparently...with a man who lives in a different state. Come on 2012, work with me here!

• 
  

It’s Not a Walk of Shame if I’m Not Ashamed

The universe is a very quirky bitch who I sometimes consider my best friend, and other times my enemy, but most of the time I think she’s funny. Like 'laugh out loud, this is not a coincidence, this is the cosmos fucking with me' kind of funny.

I ran into the Brit out at a bar last night. It was a bar I had never been to and was in neither of our neighborhoods. We were practically in New Jersey.

I wouldn’t have been there if my friend Kelly and I hadn’t decided to meet my friend Kate. If Kate had been on time in meeting us then we would’ve stayed at the lounge we were supposed to meet at. But we got there before her and she was running late.

It was crowded and boring so we left after one round and went three blocks down the street to another bar.

After getting a round of drinks we did a lap and settled on standing by the pool tables. Someone farted so we shifted over a few steps.

Then I almost bump into the Brit. We stared at each other for 30 seconds before I burst out laughing. I hadn’t seen him since November but we’d been texting.

He explained he was out with his ex girlfriends guy friends. Hello, complicated.

He introduced me as his friend and I thought even that was stretching it.

Friends normally see each other with their clothes on more often then we do and know each others last names.

We both prefer it this way.

It’s the least complicated and more honest thing I have going.

We have no emotions attached to it and keep it physical.

We make each other laugh.

He has an accent.

I went over to his place at the end of the night and per usual he passed out before I was fully satisfied. He was up early and he was completely wide awake, if you know what I mean.

I don’t understand men, do hangovers have no effect on you? Do you think sex is the cure to everything? It was painful to even open my eyes and all he wanted to do was get a happy morning. When I’m hungover all I want to do is crawl into a hole.

Though the night wasn’t perfect and he rushed me out to pack for a business trip, it was still fun and as I put my tight dress and stockings back on and walked the streets, I couldn’t help but smile. The sun was shining, it wasn’t cold out and I was probably still a little drunk but overall I acted in the moment and listened to myself in the present.

Sure, the booze helped but I was still smiling and standing the next day, even through the headache. As I walked through Union Square at 9am and was probably mistaken for a hooker, I realized that taking the small enjoyment of being wanted by a man was something I was missing and for the sake of all my lady parts, should go after more often.

Anything Else

If what you’re doing isn’t working, try anything else. I heard that line in a Woody Allen movie and don’t apply it to my own life enough. It’s time to.

A friend set me up with a guy on Wednesday night. The only problem was- the set up took place when were out at last call after hours of drinking. At one point I told him I thought he was gay, he then took the next couple of hours to prove me wrong with hardcore flirting over the pool table.

He’s older (shocking) and works in my industry (gasp).

He’s more metro then I like and also kinda short.

According to my friend though, he’s good in bed. Yes, they hooked up once, right as she started to date her last boyfriend.

I’ve never slept with someone my friend has also slept with but there’s a first time for everything.

I gave him my number when he asked for it at the end of the night. We’ve been texting and are going out early next week.

I wish I felt more excited about going out with him.

But the possibility of my lower half officially starting the New Year is enough for me to agree to the date. I haven’t gotten some loving since October with Chris (who I’m assuming got kidnapped by gypsies). It’s time people.

I’ve been reviewing my posts from this time last year. I was a hell of a lot more analytical and poetic. But I’ve gotten more comfortable with everything recently, the dips and hills. This time last year I was walking on eggshells and guarded.

I’m not on eggshells anymore. I’m on the stable hard ground that I laid down myself. I can laugh at the little things and swallow the big things that life decides to challenge me with.

Do I miss someone holding my hand through a crowd and making me coffee in the morning? Yes. But at the same time, my life has more weight to it now then it did a year ago so though I don’t have a boyfriend, I still have people I can grab on to when I fall.

And in the end, that’s all that really matters.