Judgey Wudgey

I don't think since the Brad Pitt/Angelina Jolie scandal of 2005 has there been a more controversial date in history. I got a series of comments following my last post consisting of, "Oh my god I can't believe you're going out with him. Why? Why? Why? This is madness! Ahhhhhhh!" Ok maybe I'm exaggerating just a tad.

I think it has to be some sort of record, but I literally went through an entire evening with this guy without knowing his name. I had brainstormed all day with friends how to find out his name, and came up with some awesome plans like stealing his wallet to look at his driver's license. Sister E finally settled it by saying, well hopefully he will be telling a story and it'll go something like, "So my friends said to me (insert name here) you're so crazy!"

The problem with that plan is that people say (insert name here) so quickly that all you really hear is a quick one syllable blurb and you have no idea if they're using their actual name, last name, or some sort of slangy nickname. Which is how I went through a night of, "Wait, did he say Chris? Is Chris his name? Or Nick? Did he say Nick?" in my head.

I think it's pretty awesome, and I just plan on referring to him as Vineyard Dude for the rest of my life.

And of course, I walked away from the whole thing with a very important lesson: first impressions can be misleading so you really should never judge a book by its cover (insert appropriate cliche here).

Despite my initial impressions of Vineyard Dude a month ago in Martha's Vineyard, he turned out to be a smart, funny, interesting, awesome guy. And I had a truly good time with him, despite my initial ambivalence. We grabbed a quick dinner, went out for drinks, and found out we have a lot in common. He's also, surprisingly, a good listener and seemed totally interested in my diatribes on life as a writer.

Now if only I could figure out his name...

What's Your Name Again?

I had a busy day today, and I never got a chance to write a full post, so this will just be a quickie.

I'm going out on a date tonight with Vineyard Dude, and I have utterly no idea what his actual name is. I entered him in my phone as "Vineyard Dude" and have been referring to him as such since. Thus, I have a night ahead of me trying to get away with saying "hey...you."

Although if this really works out, we could elope and from here on in I'll be known as "Mrs. Dude."

Getting Away

In typical NYC fashion, I've been spending the majority of my weekends outside of the city to escape the vicious heat and humidity. And I've learned that nothing makes me appreciate home like getting away, even briefly.

Now, don't get me wrong. I love to travel. It's probably my number one love, directly followed by shopping. And throw travel and shopping together and I'm just a hog in heaven. I spent part of my childhood living abroad and have been traveling around the world for as long as I can remember. Since the big South Africa trip in January, I haven't had time to leave the country again but have been regularly taking trips around the US.

And even after a short weekend away, I get so excited to walk around the steamy city, walk into my steamy apartment, and climb into my own bed.

I've been contemplating whether it's time for me to make a new start in a new city, so I've been systematically evaluating and rejecting all the cities that I've been visiting. I've already crossed off Atlanta, Boston, Philadelphia, Vineyard Haven, and White Plains. Next on the list is the West Coast.

But I have a feeling no matter where I go, no other city will compare. I may get tired of it, but I couldn't live without the endless bustle, the noise, the hoards of people, the constant excitement.

I may eventually just have to accept that I am a New York girl through and through.

HEINOUS

Now, I have witnessed some horrible, horrible things in my life, most recently The Happening (ba dum ch!) And I have seen guys do some really heinous things.

For example, in college my roommate was dating this guy who wanted to break up with her but didn't have the balls to. Therefore, he told her he was moving 300 miles away, they spent a week packing up his apartment together, she drove him to the airport, she cried for a long while, and then we found out that he hadn't moved. That's right, she dropped him off at the airport and he hopped right back into a cab and went back to his apartment and unpacked all his stuff. Heinous, right?

And today, I heard of something equally cowardly and ridiculous. My bff J was in a relationship with this guy for the past six months when he abruptly started drifting away and broke up with her. Then today, two weeks later, she got a message from him on Facebook, YES FACEBOOK, that he met someone else a month ago and has been dating her since. He said he was sorry he was such a coward and he wanted them to still be friends. Well, then maybe Mr. you shouldn't have told her a month after the fact via facebook that you were cheating on her.

Ya think?!?!

Now, just let me vent for one moment here. What the hell is wrong with you guys that you can't just get it together, put yourself through one moment of discomfort, and tell the goddamn truth? This isn't like those times when I went out with a guy and then he dropped off the face of the earth. These were guys that had committed to being in a relationship already. So seriously boys, get your shit together and stop being such seriously heinous assholes.

Seriously.

The Slut Factor

Now, I am going to say something that scares a lot of people, male and female.

I am a feminist.

It sounds like such a dirty word, but yes, it's true, I am a feminist.

Now, this does not mean that I am a fem-Nazi, or a lesbian, or that I plan on shaving my head or burning my bra any time soon. It means that I believe men and women are 100% equal in every way. Yes, that is what feminism means. Unfortunately, it's been tied to a lot of negative connotations, which is why that word seems so scary.

So I am the first person to point out unjust male/female stereotypes. For example, I have never appreciated that when men sleep around, they are Gods, titans, heroes, but when women do, they are branded as sluts, whores. It's obviously completely unfair, but for some reason, it's such an ingrained part of society.

Even though I am protesting it right now, I am just as likely as anyone to talk negatively about girls that I don't like or respect. In fact, earlier tonight one of my friends told me he was going to see a girl that I know slept around a lot in college and my response was, "Ew, that slut?"

Which is horrible, right? Especially in light of the fact that I was really hurt when a friend of mine recently told me he had been under the impression that I was "kind of slutty."

Now, I am aware that I am no angel. After all, I'm young, single, and living in Manhattan. But I am definitely on the tamer side compared to most of my counterparts, and just happen to be very vocal about my conquests, when there are any. I mean I write a blog about my love life, so obviously not too much is sacred with me.

But I can't deny that it hurt my feelings that my friend thought that about me, and it really made me reconsider what kind of image I'm putting out there for the world.

Note: I just realized by pure coincidence this post ended up directly on top of the one where I am contemplating a career as a prostitute. So yeah, that maybe cleared up some of the confusion in my head about why people have the wrong idea about me...

The Return of the J-Boy

Just to refresh everyone's memory, last year I started dating a guy I dubbed J-Boy and proceeded to just beat the crap out of him emotionally. The last time I saw him was when I ran into him at a bar the day after I had posted our break-up conversation verbatim to the internet (and promptly sent it out to just about everyone I know).

Now, this all happened quite a long time ago, but for some reason, I felt bad about it about a week ago and got it into my head that I should apologized and make things good with him. And I'm not even 12-stepping or anything. At the very least, it would give me some good karma, right?

So I called him out of nowhere and we played phone tag for a big before I finally got him on the phone and told him how sorry I am for being so horrible to him, that it was kind of a rough patch for me, and it's not indicative of how I usually treat people. Oh, and that I'm sorry I sent all my friends all the stuff he said online to me.

He was obviously pretty confused and shocked, but told me that all is forgiven because it was a while ago. And we even tentatively decided to hang out maybe sometime and catch up (yeah it'll NEVER happen, but the intentions were good!).

I am glad that I patched things up with him, and that the universe can finally right itself, but all in all it wasn't very productive. It's not like we're going to call each other to chit chat or go shopping together for curtains or anything. I have managed to avoid running into him since that fateful night in February, so I didn't really foresee it happening any time soon.

In the end, I guess I did it for my own peace of mind, and to be 100% honest, it wasn't really bothering me so much that I can now sleep easily at night. Which makes me wonder, is it EVER worth trying to make amends? In college, I cheated on a boyfriend after we had been together a year, and before he graduated, we met up for coffee so we could clear the air. And the stupid get-together made me feel worse than I had before.

So, is it ever really worth putting yourself through that?

More than Friends

There haven't been that many times in my life that I've made the transition from good friend to more than friend. When I was younger (and worshipped Dawson's Creek - oh, how I miss the old Katie Holmes...), it seemed like the ideal situation and I always hoped that I would eventually end up with one of the guys that I deemed to be a close friend.

Now that I am older (and smarter), I am aware that it's usually (not always) the females who make the decisions about who goes into the friend zone and who is hooking-up material. And therefore, when I meet a guy and have spent a little time with him, I usually make a snap judgement on which pile he goes into, and there he stays. It's been the case for Finance Boy and St. Paddy's Day Boy, and I usually let them know this by asking them for advice on boys.

Guys, on the other hand, rarely put girls in the friend zone (I mean, unless there is something glaringly wrong with her). It took me a loooong time to figure this out, but most guys will still agree to have sex with an attractive girl period. Regardless of whether they're friends or not, regardless of whether it's a good or bad idea, regardless of pretty much anything.

Thus, the very few times that I have decided to take a guy out of the friend zone, I've had to be the one to initiate it, since MOST (sober) guys are smart enough not to make unwelcome advances on their female friends. I think in the majority of male/female platonic relationships, it is the females that dictate the terms of how it's going to be. Which is precisely why I have been pushing some of my girlfriends to make moves on guys they are interested in but think they're "just friends".

For these same reasons, I also think it's harder for girls to adjust to the transition from friends to more. Once I've put someone in the friend zone and spent a good deal of time with him platonically, it's pretty difficult for me to mentally adjust to the idea of seeing him in a sexual light. Which FINALLY explains why things were so awkward between Joey and Dawson in season two.

Guy Psyche

I won't claim it's the most mature move on my part, but I was pulling a He's Just Not That Into You typical guy stunt and hoping that by disappearing and silence on my end, Client Boy would realize that I was no longer interested in wasting my time with him.

But the big flaw in my plan was that someone as narcissistic as Client Boy never takes a subtle hint, and would never EVER accept that maybe I am rejecting him. That is how I came to receive a series of successive strange text messages starting from last week and continuing nightly until last night. See below:

Tuesday Night, 10PM: Feel like sucking some cock?

Wednesday Night, 11PM: Boo

Thursday Night, 11PM: What's are you doin?

Thursday Night, 11:10PM (after no response to the previous text message): So the answer is being a bitch?

Friday Night, 12AM: Why don't you come see me real quick?

Saturday Night, 2AM: What are you up to?

Now, one would think since I didn't respond to ANY of these texts, he would've gotten the point, and would cease and desist. But I feel like by ignoring him I am somehow feeding the beast and now they are going to come stronger and more frequently than ever.

Which means I might have to just suck it up and tell him to back off, which is probably the grown-up, mature thing to do. But something tells me that he would not respond to it in a grown-up, mature manner...

Picking Up Chicks

So the other night I went out with my platonic guy pal, L, and he took me to his local bar, making a point of telling me that a really hot blonde bartender that he likes works there. I promised not to stifle his game.

It turns out the bartender IS really hot, a tall, blonde, perfect Polish girl who I will fully admit to having a major girl-crush on. L and I were sitting at the bar, sneakily checking her out when she came over and I asked her where her earrings were from. We started chatting and she suddenly exclaimed, "Oh my gosh, you are so gorgeous! You must have boys trying to get your number all the time!" to which I responded, "No YOU are so gorgeous! Look at you!"

Well, needless to say, she was my immediate new BFF and we totally hit it off, much to L's chagrin. I even made a point of going to the bathroom so they could have a moment together without me third-wheeling. When I came back, he looked at me grumpily and said, "I think she's more into you than she is into me. She told me that she thinks you're really pretty."

All I could really do at that point was laugh. As we were leaving, though, she stopped us and looked really disappointed we were taking off. I exchanged phone numbers with her and we made plans to hang out on Monday night, her night off.

Walking out of the bar, L just shook his head at me, and I told him he was obviously invited to hang out with us on Monday to which he responded, "I have had a crush on her for months, and you just walk in and get her phone number. You are the best wingwoman ever."

The moral of the story is I am apparently awesome at picking up really hot blonde Polish girls and I think there is career potential there. Let me know if you'd be interested in my services!

Sex Siren Status?

So my friend D was updating me on recent celebrity gossip (soooorrrry I've been too busy writing a novel to read TMZ in a while, ok?) and we got to discussing the Sienna Miller / Balthazar Getty affair.

Now, I'm not judging, and the last thing I'm going to do is devote a blog post to what a sleezeball Getty is and how Sienna Miller is a hypocrite for ruining a relationship when her own was destroyed by a nanny. No, no, what I am riled up about is how Sienna Miller always manages to bag all these hotties. Jude Law, Orlando Bloom, Leo DiCaprio, Hayden Christensen, Josh Hartnett, and now Balthazar Getty. How is that fair?!?!

Sienna is a pretty girl, no one's denying that. She has a great body, blonde hair, and style sense that any girl would kill for. But that does not translate to "make hot men fall at their knees." So what's that je ne sais quoi that she's got?

D and I decided that she comes across as a sex siren. And that's the extra something that sets her apart from the rest of the pretty blondes out there. Now, how does one go about being a sex siren?

I wandered into Barnes and Noble and asked if they had any books on how to be a sex siren, "Sex Sirens for Dummies," if you will, and they just looked at me blankly. So it looks like it's going to take a little more work for me to crack that mystery. How does one go from just being the girl-next-door type to the sex-siren type?

Opening Up the Ex-Files

Once upon a time in the magical land of Westchester, two teenagers met in history class, became friends, went through a series of ups and downs, and eventually fell in love.

Before you go vomiting in your mouth, don't worry, this is not going to be THAT kind of story. In fact, it's quite the opposite. She went off to college, they cheated on each other repeatedly, and had a heinous, ugly breakup. Awesome, huh?

But eventually, they both got over it, and D and I remain friends to this very day. He is the only ex-boyfriend I am on such good terms with that I've met his girlfriends since.

I am really really bad at maintaining friendships with exes. In my mind, if you were too stupid to lose me in the first place, you don't really deserve to have me in your life. Also, I have a tendency to date assholes (surprise, surprise), so most of them were not worth being friends with in the first place.

D is the one exception, mostly because he is one of the nicest people in the world, and therefore it makes it kind of hard for me to justify calling him a jerk and never speaking to him again. I mean he's such a nice guy that even my mom likes him and my sister leaves messages on his Facebook wall (ridiculous, right?)

Plus, D and I broke up almost ten years ago, so everything that happened between us is so far in the past there are no more hurt feelings. He just moved to Texas to pursue a teaching career, so we caught up over lunch before he left, and it was great to see him. Which makes me wonder if I was being short-sighted in writing off my other exes so quickly...

Nah.

Baby Mama Drama

So this past weekend, I had a brilliant idea. I was discussing with my fried K how we would like to have children someday even if we don't get married, and how we will go about doing so. She plans on having a friend donate his seed to the cause, but I came up with a far more awesome scenario.

Say you want to have a baby but absolutely do not want to know who the father is, and don't want the child to be able to figure out who the father is either. How would you go about doing so, other than getting a bunch of guys to squirt into a large bucket and turkey basting it?

Ooooh that's right, you would have a sex romp to get knocked up!

Picture this: it's the week of ovulation and you have a massive week of nonstop sex with so many guys that paternity testing would be far too difficult and expensive.

Obviously, there are a few kinks to work out. All the guys have to be the same ethnicity and roughly the same coloring. Avoiding STDs would be a good idea. And as my friend R pointed out, at some point having all that nonstop sex would be exhausting (and possibly painful).

This could be a very lengthy process, that involves years of planning and research and questionnaires and paperwork, but I'm seeing so many options: reality TV show, memoir, multiple visits to Oprah (or at the very least Maury). Come on folks, dream with me here.

For some reason, the people I have shared my idea with are not too enthusiastic and told me it sounds all kinds of ridiculous (no way!). Nevertheless, I'm keeping the option out there for Operation: Sex Romp Baby (what do we think of the name?).

As my friend K pointed out, as we formulated this plan, "Wow, this is going to be one messed up kid."

Guys in Other Cities

Now if there's one thing we New Yorkers love to do, it's to complain about living in the city: the weather, the noise, the construction, the rent, the homeless people, the subway fare increases, you get the point.

And of course, one of my favorite past times is complaining about how utterly psychotic Manhattan guys are.

However, after spending a good amount of time in some other Eastern American cities in the past couple months (Atlanta, Philadelphia, Boston), I have come to realize that I am truly lucky in the vast amounts of good-looking men I get to admire every single day, just by riding the subway or walking down the street.

My girlfriends and I have discussed that there isn't one day that goes by that we don't see a really attractive man. For me, there's rarely a day where I don't see a hot guy and eye-bang him.

I'm not exaggerating when I say there was not one fuckable man in all of Boston the entire week that I was there, out and about exploring the city. And I'm not just saying this because half of them were drunk and/or wearing some sort of Red Sox paraphernalia. I am saying this because they were all trolls. Sorry Bostonites, it's true.

So now when I find myself complaining about living in Manhattan, all I have to do is think about the creatures that Boston claims are their datable inhabitants, shudder, and then thank my lucky stars that I don't live there.

My Bible: He's Just Not That Into You

On the way to Philadelphia to visit my sister a few months ago, I needed a quick read for the train and picked up "He's Just Not That Into You." And my life was promptly changed. As in we now refer to that time as Pre-HJNTIY and After-HJNTIY.

I highly recommend this book to males and females; it's a quick read and it'll make you laugh either way.

I, just like any other girl, make constant excuses for guys when they are less than reliable.

Maybe he lost his phone. Maybe he programmed my number in incorrectly. Maybe he died. Maybe a relative died and he's been really busy planning the funeral. Maybe he was mauled by a tiger (yes, I actually did leave a message for Logan Boy asking if he hadn't called me back because he was mauled by a tiger). Maybe he is dying to call me, and his finger is poised right over the button on his cell phone, but he is too scared of how strong his feelings are. Maybe he was kidnapped.

The point is we will tell ourselves ANYTHING, anything, to believe that there is something else going on, rather than facing the cold, harsh reality that he simply wasn't interested. And for whatever stupid reason in his stupid head (he has to be stupid if he wasn't interested in me, obviously), he didn't have the balls to tell me that to my face, or at the very least over the phone.

So, here I was, in the midst of all my excuse-making for the boys in my life, at the time primarily AGA and Client Boy, and it hit me that they were totally and utterly just not that into me, and I was wasting my time worrying about them and wondering when they would call. The deafening silence was pretty clear.

I was depressed for about ten seconds and then I realized how freeing it would be to stop thinking about them.

I have a whole new outlook when it comes to guys now. If they are so idiotic that they can't get it together enough to call me or make definitive plans and actually follow through on them, then they are not worth my time and effort.

Now, as a caveat, my male friend J pointed out to me that HJNTIY is not ALWAYS right. There are times when things do actually come up, and there are times when guys do legitimately get freaked, and not because they don't like a girl, but because they (like us) do have feelings and baggage. So, sometimes, it's ok to throw them a little slack, but only a little.

Updates: Client Boy

Sooo I know I had totally written off Client Boy the last time we discussed and that lasted about one week before I buckled and gave him a call to say hello. After that, we began a strange pattern of seeing each other about once a week.

Now, before you go judging me, let me explain myself.

Client Boy is a (not so) rare breed of male that grew up as an only child mama's boy and has evolved into a totally selfish, semi-sociopathic, kind of grown-up. Thus, he only wanted to see me when it was convenient to him and the most important person in his life would always be himself. He was never malicious and never meant to hurt me in any way; he just couldn't help it because the he always put his needs and feelings first.

The perfect example of this is I found out that the last time Client Boy had a serious girlfriend, he also had an affair with his boss at the time. Now, he never meant to hurt his girlfriend (or the boss who got attached), but in Client Boy's world, his happiness was his number one priority and having both a girlfriend to go home to and a boss to have sex with on the side was precisely what made him happy. And as a result, being a decent human being and sparing the feelings of two females fell by the wayside.

I had been let down by Client Boy over and over again, and I now realized that the only way to deal with him was to have no expectations whatsoever, and then I could never be disappointed. Once I figured all this out, I knew exactly how to handle him. Any plans we made were always going to be subject to his convenience and therefore always tentative on my end. And I had to be prepared to be smothered in affection while I was with him and forgotten when I wasn't.

And why did I put up with this? Because he was a fun guy and I had no problem seeing him once in a while when I had nothing better to do, now that I knew there was absolutely no boyfriend potential there.

In a surprising and somewhat ironic twist, as soon as I had Client Boy figured out and wasn't that interested in him anymore, he of course felt me pulling away, and wanted me around more. He started introducing me to his friends, doing things like kissing me and doing PDAs in front of them (which is kind of a big thing in my world), and then I knew I was in deep when one of his friends said to me, "I like you. You make [Client Boy] really happy and he says you take really good care of him."

As soon as I relayed that advice to my friends, they all laughed uproariously and told me that I had gotten myself a boyfriend. Of course, I knew this was a total lie because the last thing Client Boy would ever want in his life is a relationship, and I am too smart to be that girl anyway. So after that incident, I started to pull away and rejecting Client Boy's invitations to hang out.

Fingers crossed, any day now he'll figure out that I'm not interested any more. Or I can just send him the above e-card.

Updates: AGA

The last time I left off with AGA we had just gone on our first date and I was feeling nothing but tingly, wonderful feelings through and through.

Well I know you're dying to find out how that whole thing turned out, so it's your lucky day.

After a week of texts and phone calls, we went out on our second date and had another great, amazing time. I was thoroughly in smitten mode and driving my friends crazy talking about him nonstop and how cute our babies would be.

And then...three weeks of silence. That's right. Three weeks of not really hearing from him and calling him just to get a text message in response that he was sick. Finally, after three weeks, he contacted me to let me know he had just started seeing someone, after our second date, and that was why he had been so MIA. As in three full weeks of soul-torturing uncertainty before I finally heard from him.

Now, just to back up a little bit, of course I was kind of devastated, but the three weeks of silence had been a definite sign that he wasn't dying to see me any time soon, so I had already somewhat prepared myself for the rejection. And yes, I do appreciate that he told me he was seeing someone and still wanted to be my friend, but three weeks seems excessive. Very excessive.

A good deal of time has passed, so I'm looking back on this with fresh eyes, and I understand now that even though AGA was my magical chemistry kiss guy, apparently he didn't feel the same way about me and he met someone who was his magical chemistry kiss girl. I really can't be mad at someone just because he met someone he felt magical chemistry with.

Yes, I was pretty let down, but one never knows what the future may bring. After all, it took a couple years for us to get our shit together and actually go out on a date, so maybe it'll take another couple years for us to go on a third date.

Neighbor Man

In one of the stranger ways I have ever met someone, about a month ago I was on my way out of my building when my doorman stopped me and asked if he could speak to me outside. Immediately, I was worried that I was in trouble (seriously, I wasn't the one having the party! I swear!), but instead, he told me that one of the men in the building had seen me walking through the lobby and asked who I was. He wanted to know if it would be ok for him to pass my information along on to my admirer.

Of course, my reaction was, "Well that depends, is he cute?"

Doorman responded, "Yes, he's very handsome. And a very nice man. I think he's a great catch."

Now, despite the fact that my doorman might have a man crush on this guy, I was intrigued so I agreed and the next day my doorman presented me with a business card complete with all sorts of home phone numbers.

I waited a few days (as a lady does) before calling Neighbor Man (we are calling him "man" instead of "boy" because he's almost 40 and I really can't justify calling him a "boy"). He's nice, lives three floors above me, works in finance (not another one, I know), and plays the piano. I agreed to meet him for drinks, but right off the bat I could tell that I wasn't really interested in him in any romantic capacity.

Unfortunately, he didn't feel the same way and proceeded to text and call me regularly (even once from Kuwait - I've never been texted from the middle east before!). Finally, I couldn't handle it anymore and I knew I had to put an end to it so I picked up one of his calls when I was in the car with my sister and her boyfriend.

I tried to sneak the rejection in subtly. He asked me what I was up to that night and I said, "Oh, I'm just grabbing dinner with my little sister and our boyfriends."

Him: Who?

Me: Our boyfriends.

Him: Her boyfriend?

Me: Yes, her boyfriend and my boyfriend.

Him: Ooooh, since when do you have a boyfriend?

Me: Oh, recently. It's very new.

Giggling in the background from the peanut gallery. My sister whispers, "And fake..."

Him: Oh ok, congratulations! We can still go out for drinks, right?

Me: Sure, but just as friends.

Awkward giggling.

Him: Why, you're not married, are you?

Me: Um, no, but seriously. JUST. AS. FRIENDS.

I ended the conversation pretty abruptly after that. Needless to say, it was probably one of the most awkward conversations I've ever had. Now I have to spend all of my time sneaking in and out of my building hoping that I don't run into Neighbor Man.

Totally Inappropriate

I've developed a habit of saving my favorite texts in the saved folder on my cell phone and the other night while I was perusing them, doubled over in laughter, I wondered what it is about me that provokes inappropriate texting behavior (or maybe that's just the way guys are). Either way, I thought it would only be fair to share. Enjoy!

"I honestly spent the weekend regretting not finding a little nook somewhere and just trying to fuck like the plane was going down."

"How about you pick up a dominatrix outfit at a costume store then swing by? I'm rock hard"
(For the record, no I did NOT do it.)

"So are you dressed for a sexy adventure?"
(Well, I always am, but thanks for asking!)

"Can I come over to your place a a massive errection?"
(I THINK he meant "as a," but I'm not quite sure...)

And my all-time favorite:

"Let's talk tomorrow..-m gonna jerk off and go to bed lol"
(The typo and throwing "lol" at the end are really what make the text.)

Seriously, is there something about me that screams, "Please, tell me all about your penis!"? Because I don't recall doing so...but then again maybe all guys assume we women are interested in their penises and therefore over divulge information as they see fit.

Feel free to post your own inappropriate texts below!

Vineyard Dude

This past weekend, I went to Martha's Vineyard with my family, which meant there was tons of family drama (AND we were staying in a DRY town, which obviously did NOT help. How exactly does one decide that they are going to blatantly defy an amendment? Seriously, how do you do that?).

In the moment that my sister and I managed to escape from our parents, we perched ourselves on a stoop to watch their July 4th parade when two guys sat down next to us and noticed that I was storing a bottle of wine in my bag (in preparation for returning to the dry town later that night), and started talking to me.

I have absolutely no idea what their names are, so I've been referring to the non-married one as Vineyard Dude. We flirted for a bit, and then the parents came to reclaim sister and I, so we took off, of course not after Vineyard Dude asked for my phone number and I dumbly gave it to him.

Why dumbly? Oh because I was totally unaware at the time, but I was unknowingly subscribing to his life RSS feed. For the rest of the night, about every 10 minutes, I would get texts such as the following:

"Watching the parade."
"In line at the ferry."
"Meg Ryan just ran over my foot with a baby carriage." (Ok, that one was kind of cool.)
"Watching the fireworks and meeting Wasps." (????)

The next day, I figured I was out of the woods, when my phone buzzed with, "Waited 3 hours for breakfast and now walking around in the rain." I turned to my sister and we were laughing about how this guy was crazy when I walked right into him in a store across from our inn. Crazy stalker much?

To make this even better, Vineyard Dude is in Manhattan this week and I (like an idiot) had told him the neighborhood I live in. I am officially walking around in sunglasses and a giant hat until I'm sure he's left the country.

Hiatus

Sorry readers, I've been out of the loop for a while (a long while, I know), because I've actually been focusing on my novel and I just finished it. That's right, I just finished my first novel and am working on the rewrites but as soon as that's finished, I'll be back to my old blogging self.