Updates.

• I went out to the bar on Thursday night, and ran into a guy I met and hooked up with on New Year’s Eve.** I’ll call him Neighborhood Dude. He’s a fun guy, so I went to talk to him and danced on him a bit. Things progressed, and he said, in a kind of cute, begging voice, “Come home with me.” I was already down before he asked – so I responded, “Well, we’ve already had sex, so it’s not like my numbers would be increasing. Done and done.” Then, we danced some more – and Bar Guy [who works there, and at whom I threw the paper airplane at a week before] walked by. I saw that he was there but I didn’t acknowledge him [because he was busy] and he didn’t acknowledge me [probably because he was busy]. But instead of acknowledging me at that point, he said to the guy I was dancing with, “If you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it, [name]!” Yes, the song had just recently played. But the irony was not lost on me. I told Neighborhood Dude, “You have no idea how funny that is.” Then we left. We went back to his place, but it was a little weird. He’s not cuddly or very affectionate – not that I expect that, but it certainly helps getting…umm…the systems turned on. There was a little of this and a little of that, but we both fell asleep before the sexytime. I woke up the next morning to the alarm. I got up, put my clothes back on, and was going to leave. My hand accidentally knocked a mirror on his wall and made a loud noise, which woke him. I apologized, and said I was leaving, and walked over toward him. He stuck out his hand, I took it, and he kissed my hand. Then I said something about having a good day at work, and then, “…okay. Bye.” The last time we hooked up, I bounced before he woke up, but left my number on a bank envelope on his bed. Never heard from him. A few weeks after that I saw him at that same bar, and he came up, gave me a hug and said, “Hey! How are you? I woke up and you were gone…” I said some bullshit about having something to do. But the role reversal made me laugh. This update is getting really long. The point was about having Bar Guy see me with Neighborhood Dude. But Neighborhood Dude is cute, funny as shit, and intriguing. Just wish we’d intentionally hang out at some time instead of leaving it up to chance. 
• Oh, the sex. Yes. I should address that. I met a sweet guy from Ireland through a friend, and we had sex. A lot. And it was awesome, as I mentioned before. He’s adorable, dark hair and blue eyes, tall [at least 6 feet - though I didn't spend much time standing up with him...], funny in a cute way, cuddled with me, held my hand, told me I was beautiful and had awesome breasts [never a bad thing to hear]. But he lives in Ireland. Though, it’s strange…when we were lying in bed, talking, one of his arms around me, the other holding my hand, him telling me stories about Irish history, I thought: “Ohmygod…I would marry this guy.” In a second. I’d do it. If he said, “Hey, I’m coming back to Boston…let’s get married!” I’d most likely elope with this adorable Irish dude who was awesome in the sack and a complete sweetheart. Highly doubt it – but I’ll keep you all updated.
• School and work are fine. Nothing interesting to note there.
• My birthday is on Tuesday. YAY!
• Ugh, all this sex talk has mentally worn me out. I’m done for now.

**Just realized I never blogged about New Year’s Eve because I was on hiatus. It. was. awesome. and. INSANE. Briefly: Got drunk, went to a party, made out on a stairwell with a guy [he was all up in my Spanx], went to a VFW Post bar with some other random dudes, left, ran into them again on the street corner, they offered weed and convinced us to come back with them, we did, got high, met Neighborhood Dude, he put his face under my dress while we was in the kitchen with our friends, made out in the bathroom [all the while me being on another planet due to the pot smoking], then we left, went home, looked at the pictures the next day – and wondered how the FUCK any of that happened. And we really just intended on going to our friend’s party and having a relatively quiet night…

Sex.

I had some.

It. Was. AWESOME.

Blast from the Past, Part II

Well, I thought the story was over…

But again, the Universe had other ideas.

Thursday morning, I woke up, slapping my pink Razr phone as it buzzed and rang to wake me up. Flipping it open, I saw a new text message. It was that 646 number again:

N: We fucked right? Or atleast tried too lol

Ew. Ew. Ew.

I never thought of it that way. “We fucked right?” Ew. What a vulgar way to put what…we…did. Or “tried to” do.

And why, oh why, are you STILL texting me? It’s been three days’-worth of texts, and you still haven’t quite figured out who I am? LET IT GO.

But all of this got me thinking about that word, and left me to wonder: am I the type of person who “fucks?” And what is the difference between fucking, screwing, humping, scrumping, doin’ it, having sex or hooking up? Basically, nothing. But the word “fucking” as it applies to me and what I do in the bedroom [and bathroom or living room, from time to time] makes me really uncomfortable. Yes, I was drunk. Yes, it was a one-night thing. No, I really didn’t know the guy. [Wow, this story is shaping up to make me appear really classy]. But I still feel like trying to accept the idea that I “fucked” a guy is next to impossible — and something that I’d really rather not do anyway.

Ew. Ugh.

I much prefer “hooking up” or “gettin’ it on” — the latter especially in texts to a friend at 2am when a dude is in the bathroom and I’m excited for what I know is about to happen.

Regardless, I obviously did not respond to N’s text. And several days later, I’ve heard nothing else from him. Thankfully.

END OF STORY.

I hope…

Blast from the Past

Sometimes I don’t understand why things happen to me. It must be the Universe just sending me good material for stories. Because you just can’t make this shit up. I guess someone really creative could, but with the shenanigans I get myself into, no creativity is necessary — just a transcript of events [with my own commentaries, of course].

The following is a true story. Names changed to protect the guilty.

Last night I got a text from a number I didn’t recognize. It was a 646 area code. I don’t even know what that is. It said:

Mystery Person: So you out tonight?

I racked my brain. 646? Who is that? I on a quasi-insane whirlwind of cell phone address book deletions one afternoon a few weeks ago. Did I know this number? I thought of ignoring it, but decided to write back:

Me: Who is this?

Mystery Person: N* [also known as hot bartender I hooked up with in July]

What!! I had deleted his number, and wasn’t even entirely sure he remembered my name. Now, over three months later, he’s texting me randomly? I had to find out why.

Me: Holy shit! Thought you forgot about me! Nah i’m home studying. You?

N: out for a few

Me: What made you decide to text me? It’s pretty random.

N: Is it?

N: Wait, maybe i got the wrong person, where did we meet?

What!! Wait. Didn’t HE text ME? How could he be confused on who he texted? Are you fucking kidding me with this?? I decided to end this trip down memory lane:

Me: Hahaha…take care N.

N: Don’t do that, it’s a simple question

Me: Well who did you think this was?

N: Wow, getting complicated. It’s no big deal. Wanna tell me or no?

Now, I am not the one who made things complicated. I was perfectly content to let N remain one of the One Hit Wonders of Summer 2008. [Sadly, I avoid his bar now, one of my favorites, missed especially on Thursday nights when a fun 90s cover band plays.] But he came out of the blue with that random-ass text. Now he’s trying to insinuate that I’m making things complicated because he won’t tell me who he thinks he texted??

So I left it alone and did not respond.

But ah, you think the story ends there? We are talking about me here. Of course there’s more!

This afternoon, while I was in class, I got a text message…and a missed phone call:

N: So? Can you refresh me?

At this point, I had no clue what to do. Apparently he really wanted to know who I was. He even called me and obviously listened to my outgoing message…which says my name. So I finally decided to go ahead and give him a run-down of our night together three months ago:

Me: It was july. You couldn’t maintain an erection. Does that ring a bell?

N: To often, ha ha ha

Umm…wow. I’m speechless. So I didn’t say a thing, thinking, again, maybe he’ll just leave it alone.

Of course not:

N: I’m sorry you must be cute though, i’m thinking i met you through your guy roommate?

True story! It seems like maybe he actually put the pieces together. Probably still doesn’t know my name, but he knows the connection. Nice choice of specifying the gender of my roommate — if he didn’t I would have suspected that he was just fishing.

Me: Bingo! Irish dude. Sadly he’s back in ireland now. Still don’t understand — you have number but don’t quite remember me?

N: out w a couple of friends, wondering if you’re out bring some friends

I am absolutely beyond confused. Why would you booty text someone you don’t even quite exactly remember? Either way, I am totally not interested in hanging out with someone I kind of, awkwardly, erectionlessly slept with this summer and who may or may not be drunk texting random numbers in his cell phone address book that may or may not have the correct names attached to them.

Though it would make for a better ending to this story…

No. No real ending necessary.

Summer Dating Wrap-Up, Part I: The Dirt

I’ve had this blog going for almost two months now, and I really haven’t spilled any juicy dating and sex stories. Well, it’s about damn time. As I am approaching the 5-month mark of being single [and loving it], I decided to take a trip down memory lane, chronologically, and recap the relationships & hook-ups o’ the summer…so far.

I won’t even really go into May, which saw me celebrating May Day with hot coworker sex [awful jokes about May Poles come to mind], and finishing out the month making out with various and multiple men [and women, but again, not enough time to go into that] in bars, house parties, and alleys.

The first part of June I spent out of town at a conference, the first night of which I spent in a drunken haze, culminating in hooking up with fellow conference-goer, P. It was pretty hot, I must admit – but as I became violently ill a couple days later and was out of commission, he quickly moved on to a girl who had more to offer, namely huge boobs. I have a decent rack, but nothing like this chick. I talked to him a bit about it at the conference, and when he apologized for “hurting my feelings,” I replied, “Dude, you didn’t have my feelings to hurt. I was just disappointed not to have regular sex over the two weeks. But, your loss.” I haven’t really talked to him since, and don’t plan to.

Then, I met up with an old friend, J, and we made out. That, too, was pretty hot, though it didn’t go any farther than that. We are still friends, which is good.

When I went out of town again first week of July, I met up with another old friend, S, and we hooked up. It would have gone much farther, but there were no latex contraceptives to be found, and I was just drunk enough where I didn’t have any energy to walk the 4 blocks to the 24-hour CVS. So we messed around a bit, then went to sleep. We soon went back to our respective states, and besides spotty internet and text communication, we haven’t really talked since. I am assuming we are still friends, though. No reason not to be.

I had been casually dating a guy, R, who I liked as a person, but wasn’t sure about more than friendship. He was really fun, and we always had a good time together. We made out once, and though he didn’t attempt at any clothing removal, he stopped in the middle to say, “I think we’d have really fun sex.” This was new to me, this mid-make-out commentary, so I asked him why he thought that. That must have made him think I wasn’t interested, because we just made out a little bit more, then we both passed out. We hung out a couple more times, but he never kissed me again. And then the calls stopped altogether. I texted, but got no response. I don’t know what I did, or didn’t do [besides have sex with him that time he brought it up], but I was a little disappointed at just being dropped like that. I thought we were friends. Oh well.

Then there’s E, the guy I met via an internet website due to a night of boredom, [I won’t mention which website…] and we went to gay karaoke a couple weeks ago. He’s cute, fun, and very nice, but I am not sure about anything more than friendship. Although he brought me a case of Sam Summer, so he automatically gets five bonus points for being awesome. He texted me about getting together again, and I expressed my interest in doing so and requested he call me later. That was a week ago. I would call him, but I am feeling rather apathetic about it all. He’s pretty short. I know that shouldn’t be a deal-breaker, but I can’t help it – I have a thing for tall guys.

While E was out of town, I made out with M, a friend of a coworker, at a party. He is super cute, tall, and we had a fun time. At the end of the night, he asked for my number, so I gave it. Then he looked at me, mustering all the seriousness he could, and said, “I just wanted to let you know that I am not looking for a girlfriend right now.” I laughed, and said, “Good! I’m not looking for a boyfriend! But you should totally call me and we can hook up.” That was two weeks ago. I would call him but I didn’t get his number. But I did tell my coworker, “Tell your friend to call me.” However, that was the day that I showed up with a giant hickey on my neck.

The hickey was from N, the cute Hispanic bartender. We had a great conversation, and totally clicked. Then there was the part of the story where I asked him if he had a girlfriend, he said yes, and then I said, “You know? I don’t care.” I brought him home on Thursday, and now I am That Girl. I never thought I would be, but I guess there’s a first for everything. To my credit, he did describe his relationship as “long-distance,” “on again/off again” and “unhealthy,” so I took that as an opening to have my way with him. Which I did. Problem: there was an…issue…with his, umm, how do I say this…saluting at full attention? He blamed the condoms. I didn’t really care. The next morning, he split before I woke up, but did call me about 5 minutes later. We chatted briefly, I texted two days later, expressing my desire to hang out again, with no response as of yet. I know he has a girlfriend situation, and my logical side says to stay out of it, but I don’t want any of the emotional part anyway so I don’t think it’s a big deal. But we’ll see.

So that’s about it, for now. We will see what August brings. But looking at all of this in retrospect, I apparently don’t know what I want anymore. Except maybe more triple-crème brie. If you haven’t ever had it, do so. Immediately. It’s delicious.

You know, maybe that’s the lesson here: boys come and go, but cheese is forever.