Some body

I have the poor mees tonight.

The kind that have been there for awhile but I'm just noticing because enough people have poked through my fog. I blame the warm, fake summer weather for bringing me up and then dropping me back down tonight.

I got caught up in it last week, drank too much and then got a stomach bug. My body decided to protest against each drop of liquid and food I tried to put into it for a full day. Note to future self- when you throw up in the taxi on the way into work, turn around. Fake it till you make it doesn't work when you're green and holding a barf bag.

I was out Friday night for a little bit at an industry party. A fifty-something year old guy hit on me. He asked for my number in front of a group of people I knew, so I felt awkwardly obligated to give it to him. He could've been George Clooney like ten years ago and in another parallel universe. Also, doesn't every gal have a fantasy of having a much older, experienced lover? I wasn't in the mood for drinking or keeping up my fake energy so I was in bed by 11. In the morning the older guy facebook friended me.

Not sure if he was trying to be 'hip' or what, but come on man! You're a decade away from retirement and yet when you have a girls number you still go web-friendly to get in touch with her? I mean, men were putting their coats over puddles when you were growing up so give me a break. Neadless to say I didn't accept and the request still lingers.

The rest of the weekend was quiet.

I dunno, maybe things are too quiet and it seems suddenly even all of my newly single friends are dating. I'm still in this lull of having nothing to write home about in my love life. Work is tolerable and going well. Family is drama free and content this week. Hell, I even made it to the gym this morning so I had the endorphines moving early.

Now there's this quiet, sullen pain I feel inside and I blame the warm, fake summer weather,

reminding me of all the fun outside, sunny times ahead. I want them all but I'm not ready mentally yet. I need a sign, a boost, a reassurance that my hand will eventually be taken out of my pocket and hold someone's hand.

Long story short (too late), I'm ready for someone to look me in the eyes with sparkly eyes again. I don't need love right now but I do need someone to help weigh me down every now and then when I'm feeling empty.

Okay, cue that Queen song I secretly love.

(And to complete the poor mees, I'm actually listening to the bipolar soundtrack of 'Country Strong' in order to cheer myself up right now.)

What A Girl Wants

My doorman sees a girl who wants to have fun.

Who leaves each night, dolled up as the sun is setting with her purse swinging on her wrist.

I’m the girl who wants love.

Who goes out more often than not, waiting for love.

Looking, waiting, poaching, scheming and hoping for love.

We talk about it when we’re out and mention ex boyfriends

and ex hookups, always commenting on how we’re the upper hand and being.

They’re the ones who need to get their shit together.

We are the ones who are the completed puzzle and just need a sidekick. They’re the twisted broken ones who need help.

We’re still alone though. It doesn’t mean we don’t get laid...

being single means we aren’t in love. There’s a difference.

Talk to anyone whose heart has been broken and there is a difference between sex and love.

We all want love and know our story begins and ends with it, but sex is more obtainable.

Why pretend we need more than what we need?

Do I need love? No.

Do I want it? Yes.

Do I need sex? Yes.

Do I want it? Most of the time.

Do I need to drink too much and throw my hands up

and dance till 2 AM? No.

But do I want to? Absa-fucking-lutely.

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!

•