Fucking Casually

I'm not using the term "one night stand" anymore. People get confused about what it means, and technically, I'm not really interested in whether they had sex with someone only once or not. I'm interested in whether they've ever treated sex as less than a full-on loving, monogamous, spiritual expression of one's relationship in a monogamous setting. . .

I've heard at least a few guys say that they've "never had a one night stand" and I know some girls who would probably put themselves into this category as well. It implies that they've never had casual sex. It implies that they've never had sex with someone they were less than at least somewhat serious about. Well, as you get to know them, you find that TECHNICALLY, they've never only had sex with someone ONCE. Well, actually, though, you can have pretty damn near casual sex with someone that you TECHNICALLY have gone out with a few times. You can not care a smidge about the relationship, it's just who you're dating at the moment. But it's casual sex. It's not ONE time, but it's casual sex. And isn't it the same difference? It's basically a one night stand enshrouded by the mantle of limited dinner and movie plans, designed to get in said person's pants, and perhaps TECHNICALLY lasting more than one night. . .a few weeks, perhaps!

I've had one night stands that took place over several nights :-) They were still one night stands. They just got repeated a couple times. And I wouldn't call the guys I dated briefly and had sex with one night stands, but they were damn casual. Isn't it a bit misleading to say, "I've NEVER had a one night stand," when you've merely graced your one night (or month) stands with the more polite monicker of dating, because a couple meals and a few movies were involved? We're talking about FUCKING CASUALLY. That's all I want to know. Have you ever fucked casually? With someone who wasn't really a girlfriend/boyfriend?

There's no judgment, but don't look me straight in the face and tell me you've never had a one night stand because you technically made the bad choice to "date" some people who probably weren't dateworthy, just 'cause you wanted to fuck him/her. It's just a bit misleading. You don't have to date everyone you want to fuck. Two different things. (No one's judging.)

What do you guys think?

Nice Girls Finish LAST

In the course of talking to several friends and reading several blogs I read lately, I've been giving a lot of thought to being the "first." The "first" love, the "first" sexual partner, the "first" one to hear those three little words from your beloved. This may sound a little crazy, and I'm sure some girlfriends will disagree. . .but I have ABSOLUTELY NO DESIRE to be the "first"! Even TJ has a bizarre and irrational penchant to be "the ONLY one," even though he admits it's silly to expect me not to have had other boyfriends (but I'm still asked to politely exclude them from conversation). What is the obsession with being the first!? My experience with Firsts:

I lost my virginity when I was 18, to the "first" man I loved. For 18, sure, we'll say it was love. It was 18-year-old love. I decided to do it because a) I loved him, b) I was his "first" too, and c) I knew that the way I thought and the liberal ideas I had, if it turned out this guy wasn't the "One," the chances of my "One" having waited for me, if he, in fact, thought liberally the way I did. . .were slim to none. Why was I saving myself for someone who wasn't saving himself for me? It may sound cynical, but what's good for goose is good for the gander. I am vehemently opposed to sexual stereotypes, and I have owned my sexuality like a man for much of my adult life :-) So I treated my body and my sexuality the way I wished, in a loving, monogamous relationship in which I felt secure and had a very good first sexual experience. And knew I wouldn't suffer guilt for having sex when I met the "One." Cause I bet my money he'd have gotten his share of booty too. So, "first" sexual experience says to me. . .something you do with the "first" serious boyfriend. . .who thankfully, since my "first" serious boyfriend, in my inexperienced little world, was pretty mismatched for me, wasn't my last. . .

I really really loved boyfriend #2. I would've followed him to the ends of the earth. But when he broke my heart, he told me that it wasn't right and he couldn't explain why, and to this day, I don't really have a satisfactory resolution for that. Except to say that, any man who would break my heart that way COULDN'T be the one. . .cause the one was always going to be steady and secure and constant. . .cause that's my number one criterion. The "One" was never going to break my heart (and I'd made sure to tell every man since then that if you break up with me, we're done for good, so don't even think about changing your mind!). So, #2, to me, was my "first" TRUE love. . .and we see where that landed me. Heartbroken. So "first" love says TO ME, "Starter Girlfriend," the one you screw up with. The one you regret later. The one you lose. I already was someone's "Starter Girlfriend," no desire to repeat THAT experience.

So no, with TJ, I won't be his first, not his first love, not his first sexual partner, not the first woman he's declared his love for. . .but as long as I'm the TRUEST and the most long-lasting. . .I don't care. I'm glad he left all the "firsts" behind. It doesn't matter who's first, it only matters who's last. TJ has already broken himself in on other women, he's already "screwed up" his "Starter Girlfriend" relationship, he's already cut his teeth on "I love you" and still doesn't use it haphazardly. And what's the best of all is that he doesn't look back and think of past relationships as being "screw ups" or ponder that he wishes he could go back. . .he, like me, can recognize "love" at that time of his life and still know that it wasn't right for the long run. So I get to be last, AND I get to be the One he thinks is RIGHT, and not just a consolation prize after he screwed up with someone before? And he still takes all the valuable lessons from those relationships when he evaluates how to treat this relationship? To me, that's pretty FANTASTIC!

Disclaimer: Nothing in this blog should be read as criticizing, judging, or otherwise "dissing" other people who LOVE to be the first, foremost, and top-dog "love" of THEIR respective "love's" life. But if I may, if there are bothersome thoughts about not being the first. . .remember that being the first isn't as fulfilling as being the BEST. If you get to be both, more power to ya!

Miss Have You is Having Twins!

No, not really. I will be having some new additions though.

In a few weeks, after the holidays are through, I am going to have elective surgery. That's right, folks, I am announcing here for all my blog to see. . .I am going to get breast implants, a necessary lift, and possibly some liposuction. Let me 'splain.

When I was younger, through most of adolescence actually, I was overweight. I spent much of my early twenties and even now up until today, taking the weight off in the first place and now trying to hold it down, even though it kicks and thrashes like an unruly child. I am not overweight now. I am towards the upper end of my "healthy" weight range on an insurance chart, but I am also very muscular, both genetically and because I work out. My BMI is totally normal and I am in good health. No one on earth would look at me and say I'm fat. But I have a few extra places around my midsection from which localized fat deposits just won't QUITE budge. And my once more voluptuous boobs are both a little deflated and a little saggy from weight loss.

To the body that has fought me every step of the way and the appetite that has cherished grilled cheese and ice cream, I say, "Fuck this nonsense!" (I'm kidding, the body is pretty good to me overall, but I just think I'll look better, more balanced, and be happier with the figure I've slaved to achieve with a good set of Ds and maybe a little svelteness control in the mid-section.) I'm not sure on the lipo yet. I suspect that I will automatically look slimmer when I take my boobs up a cup and a half :-) But I'm debating. . .

The moral of this story is. . .that TJ, when he heard the day I'd scheduled my surgery, really encouraged me to push it back a couple days so he could be with me all week to take care of me. It's the week after Christmas and I said, "Don't you want to go be with your family that week you take off from work? I mean, Newsgirl and [another friend who lives nearby] can take care of me." He said, "I don't give a shit.* I go up north all the time to see family, and if I go home to South Florida, I'm just going to end up doing yard work. I assumed I'd just take the whole week off and spend it with you, so I could be with you and take care of you." He sounded almost insulted that I hadn't ASSUMED so. Duh. Silly me. So I pushed the surgery back.

What a sweetheart! I'm beginning to know he really loves me. The words will just be a technicality :-)

*He's kind of a pottymouth, that TJ.

What's the Female Equivalent of Blue Balls?

Gentlemen: when your girlfriend does any combination of three or more (to be safe) of the following things, she wants to be intimate.** Takes a shower before bed, when you haven't been at the gym; shaves everything from the waist down; comes to bed stark naked; asks you, "Aren't you going to kiss me goodnight?"; asks to cuddle; rubs your back and nuzzles you while she does so; tries to pry herself out from under your dead, sleeping weight because your "cuddling" (which isn't the kind she was asking for anyway) is too heat-inductive for her taste.

**Any two or more of the above actions for girlfriends who only see their beaux on the weekends.

Please don't deny her, especially when you're going home first thing in the morning. She'll feel hurt, rejected, and as though all of her efforts to make herself pretty, clean, hairless, smooth, soft, and smell good were unnoticed and underappreciated by you. And then she'll lay there wide awake no matter how tired she is and think about how foul that makes her feel. And how physically unfulfilled she feels, when she got it in her head (through the somewhat extended process of exfoliation, hair removal, and squeaky cleanness) that you were going to be intimate. And she may end up tricking you into being intimate with her anyway by bringing. . .ahem. . .your competition out of the nightstand drawer. And being intimate in pursuit of beating out your mechanical competition. . isn't intimate. It's sort of tricky. And underhandledly beguiling. And while her intention may be at least as much about being able to go to sleep (for the love of God!) as it is about her personal irritation with your oblivious sleeping body, it still may come off badly. Especially when that little whirring sound makes it hard for you to sleep and you wake up and feel compelled to join in the fun. And don't realize until AFTERwards that you were wholly and unjustifiably HOODWINKED (no pun intended).

I can identify with feeling disrespected, scammed, and perhaps even that you're only as good as your sexual prowess, if you're feeling any of those things (which I suspect you are!). But I really did feel like the underappreciated target of your oblivion in the first place. I got your attention and my point across in the totally wrong way. . .and I'm still hurt and angry. I know I apologized and I know you said to forget it (and even seemed like you meant it). . .but what about *my* gripes with this situation?

PS I realize by writing this post that it really is sort of hilarious. But I didn't think it was very funny until I realized the hoodwinked was a synonym for tricked, in which case the whole thing just because a raucously entertaining piece of prose. But really, I'm inviting comments. Am I so wrong or weird to expect (and prepare for) intimacy on the last night we see each other for the weekend? And is it reasonable to be frustrated that the boyfriend didn't notice that I'd gone to some effort to facilitate that (and in fact, seemed like he was starting to engage in foreplay mere moments before the bastard passed out).

Signed--
Stuck between irritation and hilarity

Feeling Very Liked, Yay!

We are going to DC for TJ's birthday, courtesy of yours truly. Well, I mean, I bought the plane tickets and hotel accomodations, but now am so broke he'll probably have to pay for everything else once we get there. But hey, I get to take the trip too, right? which is how I justified it.

Well, so his Brother lives in the DC area and apparently, now is Sister-in-Law is so excited that she gets to meet me and is planning this whole Thanksgiving feast. TJ tells me today that she asked him, "So, do you like this girl a lot?" to which he replied, "Yeah." And then, "Like, more than anyone else?" And he said "Yeah" again!

When I asked him whether that meant, better than anyone he knew now, or better than other girlfriends before, he said, "It doesn't matter, the answer is still 'yeah'."

Once again, I heart him. In case anyone had forgotten.

Shout out to my great friends. Over the last few days, I've had some really top-notch peeps give me every bit of encouragement, appreciation, and unconditional friendful lovingness, even in the face of adversity, confrontation, and some shit we had to deal with. Thanks for all the love and acceptingness and praise that came with the things that were necessary to point out, that may not have been very pleasant. I know how strong and wonderful and phenomenal all you guys must be. . .to maintain strong friendships with someone whose blog is entitled. . .

Have you SEEN me?!

I think that . . .says it all. . .really. . .

Me

I feel like I'm often defensive lately.

I feel like I'm always paying for an irreparable rift, no matter what I've done or said to try and repair it and no matter what part the other participant may have played.

I feel like no matter how much better I get, every action will be colored by something I did before, even though. . .

I learn from past mistakes and change with every encounter and get it "better" and "righter" each time.

Just because what *I* have to say isn't always PLEASANT doesn't mean I didn't say it the way I thought it needed to be said (and maybe STILL DO).

That belief is not inconsistent with being sorry that the way I felt I needed to say something hurt the recipient of that sentiment's feelings. . .sometimes I would say it differently next time. Sometimes I wouldn't.

But, I DID say it differently this time. Go me.

Most times, NOW (although I have been accused of being rash, blunt, or cruel), I make a very reasonable and deliberate attempt at tact.

. . .Even when that attempt is successful, I still have gotten responses that may be considered rash, blunt, or cruel from the people who accuse me of being so awful in the first place.

I never let friends languish in my disapproval without letting them know.

I suspect that many unfavorable discussions are had about me, by people who *don't* always call their disapproval to *my* attention. . .and that's just as hurtful (to me) as being forthright about unpleasant feelings directly to someone.

I'm blunt.

I am very very funny (often because I'm unabashedly blunt).

I am very very loyal.

I am very very gracious about apologizing for bad behavior.

Sometimes, I think friends take advantage of that and use it as an excuse not to take responsibility for their part.

I can't point these things out. . .if they really don't see them themselves.

The Hungry Dance and The Tricky Beagle

Voicemail from Newsgirl last night: "Hey I went ahead and fed Sadie, she acted like she was STARVING, she was doing her little hungry dance, so I hope that's cool."

The beagle WAS NOT starving. She had eaten 15 minutes before, as I breezed in and out before heading to the gym. The beagle is the trickiest little bitch you'll ever meet. She knows how to do the hungry dance (neurotically shifting from one front paw to the other as she sits excitedly waiting for the break in my gaze signaling that she is allowed to eat). And sometimes, she does the Hungry Dance to my roommates. . .knowing full well she just ate.

My dog tricks people. People: human beings! With some regularity!

!!!!

Flowers. For Me. Card says,

"Can't wait to see you and read between the lines until you don't have to. Love, TJ"

Cause reading between the lines. . . is what you have to do. . .when you. . .haven't said. . .certain things. . .

He hearts me. He really really does!!

One More Funny Story from the Weekend

My friend BC is an absolute stitch. She was in charge of calling the taxi cab for our drunk asses on Friday night. She would pick up the phone (it was probably 11:30, midnight), talk to Celeste (the cabbie who gave me her card last time), ask me the address, and give it to the dispatcher. Let's just say my address is 37 E. 53rd Street. So the conversations would go something like this:

BC: "Hey, yeah we need a taxicab."
Dispatch: "What's the address?"
BC: "Miss Have You, what's the address. . .? 37 E. 53rd Street."
Dispatch: "It will be 45 minutes probably, we're really busy."
BC: "Ok."

25 minutes later. . .

BC: "Hey, we're just checking on our taxicab."
Dispatch: "What's the address?"
BC: "45 E. 73rd Street."
Dispatch: "We don't have that address, ok, hold on, we'll get you one. . ."

20 minutes later. . .

BC: "Hello, we've been waiting for almost an hour for a cab!"
Dispatch: "What's the address?"
BC: "As I previously stated, 58 E. 44th Street!!"

They finally refused to service us, as we kept calling back and giving a different address. I finally called when I realized that drunk BC couldn't keep the numbers straight. I proceeded to self-righteously tell the cabbie that *I* hadn't called before, give her the real address, and then announce, "And that's the address she gave you the last time. . ." Oops.

Calendar of Love

Ok, so I got all my insecurities out on the last post, and I *am* feeling a bit better. I reviewed some old posts from my private blog (didn't know I had one, did ya?) and realized that I've been struggling with the EXACT same issue for about a month now! And I'm no more crazy now than I was then. And I re-read some of the things he told me then, which were comforting and reassuring, and I'm just going to pretend like he told me those things again. I don't think his feelings have changed, he hinted pretty strongly that his not having said it so far was a timing issue, not a substantive, "I don't love you," issue. I just have to drop it. It's SO HARD. Especially 5 apple martinis and 2 or 3 "It's Your Birthday Black Cherry Vodka" and gingerales later.

Also, this is silly, but when you're in a weekend relationship, you can pretty much look at your calendar and see what happened, at what stage, anytime. Oh, the weekend we went to X, we fought about Y, remember? And the weekend that my friend visited, we didn't fight at all or have any serious discussions. So, I review my "Calendar of Love" and realized that since my last insecurities on this subject and his assuaging of those insecurities, we've. . .ahem. . .had quite a few arguments. And an argument, while it may not LAST all weekend, COLORS the whole weekend, when you have a weekend-to-weekend relationship. It's hard to explain. But anyway, we fought two weekends in a row, then we had a great weekend, and last weekend, I was with my girls. We have this weekend coming up (three day weekend for me), then next weekend, and then I'm taking him to DC for his birthday. . .so we have some good quality time coming up. Cross your fingers we don't fight and that he starts to show me more that I am, in fact, as the voicemail message proclaimed, "Love O' My Life!!" And that I'm able to keep my mouth shut on this topic from NOW ON!!

Closing thoughts: I've gotten in trouble a bit lately because of my blog and my unabashed inclination to express whatever I feel on it, sometimes to the mild insult of some of my personally acquainted readers. But, it is, after all, *my* blog. Well, these two posts today help me to understand that. . .when a blog blogs in the world wide web, and there's no one around to read it, it DOES still make a sound. This has HELPED me today. I usually would call a friend, but my best bud is going through something really hard right now and I don't need to bother her with this trivial shit. And I know the answers, anyway, deep down, when I sort through my head. . .through having had the same issues before, through awesome advice from friends in the past, through my own soul-searching, and because I know TJ.

So, read it if you like, comment if you like. . .I'm still going to try and say whatever I feel like, because ultimately, it's for *me.* Especially these posts, the heartfelt ones, not just the posts chronicling my misadventures. . .

I'll try and not offend any friends intentionally, but no promises. . . :-)

Thanks for reading. . .

All My Irrational Thoughts

It's not ok to joke about it. Regardless of how ridiculous I was, I still feel, very poignantly, all the things I said. I still worry that you don't love me, that maybe I'm just the last in a string of women with whom you've been involved over many years. I still worry that you're just the guy who ALWAYS has a girlfriend. And you think it's so obvious because otherwise, why would you be with me? Well, you've already told me you were with your last girlfriend for five years because she accepted you, 100%, despite the fact that you had some tough things to share with her. Maybe you're with me because I accept you, too.

I don't mean to sound ungrateful for all the things you do for me, the places you take me, the things you buy me, but I really am the girl for whom a bouquet of flowers, a nice card, or a squeeze and a cuddle will get you farther than all the top-notch restaurants or gifts in the world. I like the other stuff too, but I haven't gotten enough of the first stuff lately. You used to tell me, so unequivocally, how you felt about me, and it sounded like you were head over heels for me. . .and one day, you stopped. You said you didn't feel any different, you just decided that it was more prudent to move more slowly. But gosh, I miss that guy. I miss that guy who would just drop all his feelings on me with no thought to the repercussions. I wish you'd make yourself vulnerable to me; I already feel so vulnerable with you.

I know you have a problem being that way, being vulnerable, being weak. I know that it was a miracle I was *ever* able to inspire that behavior from you at all. . .and I just wonder if I'll *ever* inspire it again! I catch little glimpses of it here and there. . .even the other night, when you stroked my face and neck as I slept, me only semi-conscious that you were observing me at all. But it's just not obvious enough to me, and I'm going crazy. I want to be calm. I want to wait patiently. But when you make cracks and inform me that "I'm not uncomfortable expressing my feelings. . ." what am I supposed to think? Oh, you're not!? It's just what I thought the first time, then, you really DON'T love me. . .cause if you did, you'd tell me. After all, you're not uncomfortable. And that's the only really good excuse I could come up with, all this time.

I do think you're lying. I do think you're terrified. I think you can't stand to show the chink in your armor and you know that I am the woman who is penetrating that thick veneer of machismo that you've been wearing all these years. You said some time ago it was kind of nice to have someone who knew you that well, but kind of unsettling too. Well, you're unsettling me too. If you're so comfortable in your feelings. . .why can't you just tell me?

Ok, the Truth is. . .

I spend so much of my professional, and even personal life, trying to find just the most tactful, least offensive, properly assertive, but not overbearing, way of saying things, that I frequently think I can just fire off whatever pops into my head towards my good friends and the people who love me the most.

It doesn't mean what you said wasn't thoroughly obnoxious, and it DID hurt my feelings, and it DID contribute to my stress. And I'm still a little too irritated to thoroughly apologize. And because I think you probably deserve a genuine, sincere, Miss Have You-wrote-the-book-on-gracious-apologies, apology, you're just going to have to wait. I'm sorry I can't be more gracious more quickly this time, but trust me, you're not going to want to talk to me until at least about Thursday.

You're still one of my best friends, and I do love you, even when I'm a bitch.

[Oh, and tell the girlfriend I got the message she left me. She'll know which one I'm talking about. That was sneaky.]

The Damage

The Damage
Originally uploaded by me2insav.

The beagle judges. "Sluts," she thinks. We actually had several beagle voiceovers over the course of the weekend, most of them involving her judgment and disdain for our wildness and alcoholism. She was very judgmental about my drunk dialing last night too, she was afraid I'd chased TJ away, and she loves him so. She told RS, "I tried to get the phone away from her, but it is just too hard to wrestle that shit out of her hands with no opposable thumbs."

RS and Miss Have You

Tracey and Molly
Originally uploaded by me2insav.

The great top that snagged the boy (on RS)! My top inspired me to comment today, "And I looked so hot last night too, and I didn't even cheat on him, what's WRONG with me?!" (Answer: I'm in love with the big lug.)

The Usual Suspects

The Usual Suspects
Originally uploaded by me2insav.

BC, Miss Have You, RS, Newsgirl, JS. Not bad, huh?

The 'Fro

The 'Fro
Originally uploaded by me2insav.

Usually, when someone walks in front of your camera, it's just not this funny. . .this time, it was. . .

I'm AWESOMELY COOL WAITER GUY

I'm AWESOMELY COOL WAITER GUY
Originally uploaded by me2insav.

Heh-heh. I'm nerdy waiter guy. My glasses are too big for my face. The specials are these two things I'm gesturing about. God, I'm cool. This hot girl thinks I'm cool, look, she's giving me thumbs up.

(This is another great picture, makes me laugh. This is my friend Andrea.)

Reeeooooowwwww!

Reeeooooowwwww!
Originally uploaded by me2insav.

This is by far my favorite new picture of me. I might put it on my Christmas cards. I am one sexy bitch.

I'm a Little Teapot. . .

Honestly, I think TJ was a little relieved that I drunk dialed him so much. That way, he knew I wasn't in trouble, he knew I missed him, it was reassuring. . .but last night, I was VERY drunk. I went home at midnight. I NEEDED to. And as RS explained to TJ this morning, "No I can usually read the warning signs, and if I'd known what she was going to do, I would NOT have let her out of my sight with a functioning cell phone." Um. . .so, I called TJ, told him how much I missed him and wanted to be with him. . .and then proceeded to get upset and sob into the phone, "Do you love me?" "I don't think you do." "Why haven't you told me?" "Maybe we shouldn't be together if you don't love me," and other commentary of this unfounded, ridiculous ilk. See, what happens is, I perceive that I have been VERY VERY patient waiting on TJ to say that. And I don't generally think about it very much. And when I squelch my emotions, they tend to build up and I blow my top in completely unforewarned circumstances. . .like last night. . .RS and JS and I decided it's sort of like this:

I'm a little teapot, short and stout
Here is my handle, here is my spout
When I get all steamed up, hear me shout:
You fuckin' bastard, why won't you tell me you love me?!? (or whatever other funny line we decided to insert).

I have to give the man props. He handled it like a champ. He was calm and rational with me, he indicated all the things he does that show me how much he cares and that his feelings aren't lacking just because he hasn't said those three little words. After 64 minutes (yes, I don't know HOW) he said, "We're not getting anywhere, go to bed, I'll talk to you tomorrow." I must've frustrated the hell out of him. I felt awful when I woke up. I felt like I'd ruined everything. I felt like he'd NEVER tell me now. I wished I could take it back. So what does TJ do? He leaves me a message today, "Miss Have You, Love of My Life, call me back!" I call him back and he wasn't even mad. He laughed. I apologized, I felt so genuinely horrible. I told him that I don't usually dwell on it, I know rationally it shouldn't matter, I know he shows me in a million ways, and the last thing I want to do is pressure him about that. He just wanted to be sure I felt ok and did a very funny interpretation of the conversation he was sure must've precipitated this:

"Girl, has he told you those words yet? Unh-unh. . .you need to kick his ass to the curb. You are HOT, girl, and you can get lots of guys here in Savannah, without having to have some boy down in Florida NOT telling you he loves you. . .you need to get rid of him, uh-huh, uh-huh!!" Which conversation NEVER happened, mind you. . .I'm just psycho.

He handled it so well. He handled me in a way that it's taken dear friends YEARS to learn, and he's picked it up faster. I think RS is putting a little more stock in the boy now. . .she's seeing that if can learn to and WANTS to learn how to handle crazy psycho Miss Have You. . .he MUST really love me. . . I'm really impressed with him today :-) He makes me happy.

One Liners

Honestly, the best and funniest Girls Weekend moments were captured via photo, which I'll be uploading shortly, but after my one, long, bitchy story, combined with RS's story of Clark Kent on her blog, the rest are just good tidbits, one liners, if you will.

After cramming 7 of us in a little bitty cab and RS instructing BC to put her head between her legs to avoid getting sick, Newsgirl replied, "If I could do that, I'd never leave the house."

Anonymous player justifying her hook-up by explaining that so much clothing had been removed and she was naked so, "I HAD to F%$# him."

BC continuing to check package size of all guys she saw, with the opener which REALLY should have made her intentions clear, "Hi, I'm BC," [insert grope here]. Apparently, without RS's instruction or knowledge, she "pre-qualified" Clark Kent for her. (Dear Clark Kent, Congratulations! Based on your excellent package girth and length, you've been pre-approved for a line of RS's company for the next 12 hours!).

Another anonymous player raiding her guest's kitchen cabinets because she was pissed off he fell asleep WHILE she was. . .ahem. . .providing. . .oral stimulation. . .and then later explaining that she wanted to "keep it 'G-rated.'" "What was the last G-rated movie you went to?!" I exclaimed. I'm pretty sure there were no blow jobs in Aladdin.

RS analogizing the lost ponytail elastic she lost in her host's bedroom and being given another one out of the bedside drawer by her host as the "take a penny, give a penny" tray at cash registers, "because, I mean, some other girl will now get my elastic when he finds it."

Me finding out that Clark Kent has a really good friend who's a parter at a competing law firm on whom I have a big crush. I tell Clark Kent that I have a crush on said partner and predict the results of such a query, "No really, ask him, he knows. . .Miss Have You. . .Miss Have You. . .oh yeah, the brunette. . .yeah I know." When said partner later shows up, I shook his hand, "Oh yeah, Tim and I know each other. You know I have a crush on you, right?" "Yep," he responds, and without missing a beat, I say, "Told ya" and go back to my lettuce wraps. (By the way, a lettuce wrap, half a crabcake, and a couple conch fritters just DO NOT adequately absorb the amount of alcohol I chose to consume Saturday and at that time had coursing through my system. . .note to self.)

Telling a guy that although his friend drunk dialed me a few weeks ago, I never really see him, I didn't really date him, we only hooked up, so why does he bring him up every time I see him? I think I also instructed him to tell him to stop drunk dialing me as I have a boyfriend now.

Watching Newsgirl's spastic dog chase our mailman, to the point he actually hurled himself on the ground out of fear of being attacked. My mailman (and BC) happen to be black. I explain to the girls that when BC comes back in, we'll ask HER why black people are so afraid of dogs. They look horrified. . .but BC and I are like that. . .I have to explain to her concepts like ashe blonde, auburn and all the other subtle nuances of white girl hair color. . .and she has to tell me why black people are so afraid of dogs. She also later asks Clark Kent when he's taking them to Waffle House later, "I know you're Caucasian and all, but do you have any rap CDs in here?"

That's all I can think of. . .reserve the right to supplement later. . .

Thanks for the Patty Melt

Girls Weekend Part Deux was a raging success, really. I'm embarrassed and ashamed to admit that it was BEAUTIFUL in Savannah this weekend, perfect sunshiney weather, mid 60s, hint of Fall in the air. . .and did we indulge in ANY of it? No. We were too busy. . .imbibing in the um. . .FESTIVITIES that we just had to spend the daylight hours. . .well, RESTING both after and prior to further festivities. . .yes, we all SLEPT all day yesterday. . .after resurrecting the hilarious activities we engaged in the night before and laughing about it all over again that morning. This is installment one. I know you'll all be scared away by one huge long blog post chronicling ALL misadventures, so I'll give it to you in installments.

So, I didn't cheat on the boyfriend, shockingly enough ;-) No, really, I didn't really think that was a danger, but it is fun, once and again, to go out with just the girls and remind yourself that you're cute and have no trouble in the guy department. So, when some average looking guy started paying me some attention and wanted to dance with me on Friday, I said fine. He was sort of trying to kiss on me, but I kept turning my head, and when the music stopped and they kicked us out, I took off. I was taking individual stock of all my girls' locations and making sure that everyone was accounted for (I've had trouble with this in the past, so I'm trying to be a better "girlfriend" in these situations). The guy follows me out. . ."Wait, wait, I want to see you again. . ." I don't think we'd had enough conversation to speak of at this point for me to have told him I have a boyfriend, but at this point, I tell him that we've not going to see each other again, I have a boyfriend. So he keeps talking to me, as I recline on a picnic table outside the bar. He's really sort of irritating me. I need to find all my girls. But he keeps telling me that he wants to see me again and I politely tell him that no, he just wants to sleep with me.

"No, no," he says, "why would I want that?"
"Um. . .I dunno, cause I'm hot?"
At this point, another guy walks by, and I tap him on the shoulder and say, "Can you tell me what's going on here? Do you think he wants to see me again or just F$#@ me?"
Random guy: "Oh yeah, he just wants to F$#@ you."
Me: "Cause I'm hot, right?"
Random guy: "Yep."
Me: "Ok thanks."

At some point thereafter, I finally shed the loser and go to account for my friends. . .who are ALL going elsewhere (various and sundry places. . .some of them to what they're referring to as "Club 624," which apparently refers to an apartment number of some guys they met). Ok, fine, everyone's good, right. Now shit, what am I going to do? The guy walks by with his friends. . ."Oh hey, " I say, "I think I'll go with you after all. Can we get something to eat?" I go with him on the condition that he promises to feed me. In fact, I am so adament about eating, that he actually asks me would I go with him if I weren't going to be able to eat, at which point I wave at a semi truck driver stopped at a redlight and make a legitimate attempt to enter his cab. The handle wouldn't open. Maybe he locked it because he sensed that a crazy drunk girl was going to try and get HIM to take her to Waffle House. I dunno. But my guy pulls me away. And after taking his roommate and his girlfriend to his apartment, which I think he secretly hopes I'll enter ("Nah, I'll just wait here. We're going to Waffle House right?"), we do in fact go to Waffle House. Because they are cleaning the grill, my coveted patty melt is out of my grasp, and because I refuse to eat a waffle, I instruct my guy just to take me home. Now, we've driven all over Savannah at this point, and when loser asks for my number, I feel no choice but to give it to him. I'm glad that I gave him the right one because he actually calls it. . .at which point, I realize I've left my phone at Waffle House. I had put it out on the table to make sure I heard it ring if any of my girls called in a hook-up emergency. Shit. So we go BACK to Waffle House and the grill is clean now, so I can have my patty melt. He even orders a waffle, which is funny, because he would have been perfectly satisfied with his food choices the first trip, as waffles do not involve the grill. Guy makes several more attempts to convince me how much I really must like him to have spent all this time with him and let him hold my hand in the truck, etc. at which point I explain (several times) that I really don't care, I just wanted Waffle House, and I'm in love with my boyfriend. But thanks for the patty melt.

The bitchier I was, the more he wanted to "get to know" me. Hey, buddy, maybe I'm just not that into you. And they say WOMEN are always attracted to assholes.

What part of. . .

TJ's irritation is not about me is unclear? I came down on TJ for making an irritating mistake. It was especially irritating to me in light of the fact that he frequently asks me to clarify things that have come up recently in the past, when he WASN'T listening. Not listening is an irritating thing to do to one's girlfriend. However, that was over, done with, and apologized for before TJ began unloading his other MAJOR annoyances on me. I'm not saying I didn't contribute to his stressed mood. I probably did, but I immediately became a kind, nurturing sweetheart once I realized what a crappy day he was having. However, he continued to be in a crappy mood. And ultimately, at heart, I think that probably has more to do with his parents not speaking to one another when he and all his siblings are coming to visit and all be together for the first time in God-knows-when for his mother's birthday than it has to do with me. Or the fact that he's not seeing me this weekend and I'm going to be out carousing and getting into trouble with my girlfriends rather than being with him for the first time since we've known each other.

So, let me say it again for everyone: I am 100% certain that the vast majority of TJ's troubled psyche today has very very little to do with my sarcasm regarding his phone error. It still hurts my feelings when he pulls away from me because he's in a bad mood, even one that has very very little to do with me. I hope he feels better. But this is about HIM, not me. For once. Trust me.

Secondly, while I appreciate the kind words of encouragement, criticizing me for something I did YESTERDAY (for which I've already realized my error and apologized) does not help me TODAY. It only hurts my feelings more. This is a good piece of advice to apply to all situations calling for good friendship actually: if your friend has a problem, don't give her/him "what for" for what's already done, try to help her/him make the best choice with what she/he has NOW.

So, again, we're not fighting, not about what number he called me at or otherwise. He's just having a bad day and is in a bad mood. My question was. . .should I go to him and try to make him feel better, or wait for him to come to me if he thinks I can make him feel better? And I don't need the answer anymore, thanks.

More Phone Calls

Last night, I left TJ a text message (from my blackberry): "Call me at work when you get this." Now, I said AT WORK for a reason. I thought about adding that I had left my cell at home on my lunch break, but I thought, "no, it says at work, he'll call me at work." He didn't. I had two messages on my cell when I got home, espousing the view that he was promptly, and then twice, returning my phone call and where was I? Why don't men pay attention? was the attitude I had when I returned his call. "Hey TJ, do you know what I asked you to call me AT WORK?" He didn't bite. "What, did you say at work?" "Yes." "I called you back." After playing this little roundabout game for him for a few minutes, I finally said, "I asked you to call me AT WORK because I left my cell at home when I was home for lunch." He didn't have the dramatic, oh-my-gosh-I'm-so-dumb reaction I'd hoped for. He was just generally annoyed.

After explaining the reason for the message (just to coordinate something with him), I apologized for being patronizing or nasty, but explained that I was just irritated when he didn't listen, which seems to happen with some regularity and we end up having the same conversation two weeks later. Now, this particular day, I didn't know that he had a lot of other things on his mind. I suspect and know that it includes some of the following:

a) He's going home this weekend and apparently, his parents aren't speaking. 70+ years old, and you're NOT SPEAKING. Great. Now I see where TJ the Nasty Silent Treatment Clown of Fun comes from.

b) The antenna on his truck is bent and not working properly.

c) It started pouring rain while he was driving around for work.

d) He's just generally pissy when things don't go his way, and

e) (here's the one I suspect), his girlfriend is going out to get shitfaced with her single girlfriends all weekend and he's feeling a little insecure about what kind of antics I might be up to, without him. . .or just in general, me having fun WITHOUT him.

I called him a little while later and left him a really sweet message telling him that I wished I could give him a great big hug, I missed him, I'm sure everything would be fine, I'd see him soon, etc. etc. He never called me back so I called him around 11. He was totally pissy. The only time his testosterone-infused pissed-off demeanor cracked ever so slightly (or did I imagine it?) was when I asked if he got my message, to which his little "yes" sounded ALMOST like he wanted to break down and confide in me and that he wished I were there that very moment. . .right before he went back to, "I'm fine, I have to do my lab report" gruffness.

So, I said, "I don't want to keep you, just checking to make sure you're ok." And I went to sleep.

So, honestly, I'm a little hurt this morning. I'm calling to make sure you're ok and you're gruff with me. Stoopid, I'm your girlfriend, I LOVE you, I want to make everything ok, and I'm TRYING to make you feel better. But I know that a) it has NOTHING to do with me, and b) he'll call me when he needs a little bright spot in his day, right? I want to call again and say, "how are you feeling today?" but I got burned with his bad attitude last night. . .he'll call me when it naturally improves and I just need to back off, don't I? I want to make sure that when I talk to him next, he 120% wants to talk to me. . .and the only way I can usually guarantee that is by waiting for him to call me. . .

What do you think?

Phone Call

TJ: "Are you on lunch?"
Me: "Yes."
TJ: "Well, why haven't you called me?" (with mock indignation).
Me: "Oh well, you know, I didn't want to bother you. . ."
TJ: "But it's never a bother with you. You're the bright spot in my day."

Me feeling warm on the inside.

Politics aren't REAL, you know

Oftentimes, it seems that people get into heated debates with those they respect, like, and even their most intimate soulmates about. . .well, who they voted for in the presidential election, for instance. I think it's key to really remember at these times something that has only come to full development in my mind recently. . .POLITICS AREN'T REAL.

A comment from another blog referred to one of the presidential candidates as a man "whose stance on both national and world policies varies according to his audience." I just laughed. . .hello? EVERY politician's does! If you really think that that vast majority of politicians don't change to suit their constituents. . .well hell, that's not just about getting elected, it's about a politician's first and foremost duty: pleasing his constituents! To really think that one choice over another is BETTER, more LOYAL, more HONEST, more RIGHT, whereas the other guy is WRONG. . .that's just crazy. You're forgetting. . .let's say it together. . .POLITICS AREN'T REAL.

There is no ideal candidate. There is no politician who's always going to stand for all the beliefs you hold dear, or even most of them. There is no politician who wouldn't switch up a stance to better suit his constituency. . .maybe not outright LIE, but at least VARY a position he's taken before. There is no perfectly idyllic slap-happy political Mickey Mouse who's going to take any of us away to "My Personal Magic Kingdom of Perfectly Reflected Ideals." And even if he did, you'd be the only one living there!! But we have to live in a country with OTHERS, with DIFFERENT ideals. . .so. . .

Here's a suggestion: stop standing for candidates. THEIR beliefs are not WORTH your defense. There are no REAL, TRUE, CONSTANT, STEADFAST candidates. There are only your BELIEFS, your STANCES, those IDEAS to which you reverently adhere. There are only your ideas about what's right and wrong, and no politician adequately embodies that. Stand for YOUR ideas, YOUR beliefs, YOUR morals. And YOUR beliefs ARE worth defending!

Once you talk about BELIEFS, not CANDIDATES, you'd be surprised how often you can agree with likeminded people (which probably most of your friends and loved are) that you feel more or less the same way about abortion, gay marriage, the economy, the war on terrorism. That is, even if you disagree about which piss-poor excuse of a politician is going to fuck up the country the least, bearing those ideals in mind. And if THAT'S all you're arguing about, you're only arguing over which picture perfect White House family paper doll cut-out looks the LEAST ridiculous wearing your ideals. And they both look pretty ridiculous*

*(Wearing MY ideals, at least, but MY ideals involve both candidates wearing stunning Bob Mackie sequined gowns with feathers protruding garishly in a scintillating cascade of fabulousness as they walk down the aisle in a faux paper doll committment ceremony to celebrate their love for their same-sex, opposite-political party partner. . .but that's just *me*.)

These are a Few of My Favorite Girls

I went to bed at like 9 last night. Pretty sure I haven't done that since my bedtime was last 9, probably in the 3rd grade. It rocked. I had done such of a good job of getting up and leaving TJ's house yesterday morning at the ass crack of dawn, had worked all day and had very, very good intentions of going to the gym, but I just started to fade fast when I got home. My energizer bunny's batteries were dead. So I got up this morning about 6:15 and went to the gym instead. . .I did an hour of cardio so I think I probably made up for skipping yesterday. . .plus, now I'm on a good schedule to get up at 6 AM every day this week to get my workouts in (at least the cardio portion of them) in the mornings so I can do my ever expanding list of things in preparation for Girl's Weekend.

This weekend, my two favorite girls from Atlanta are coming into town. Now, I have lots of good friends in Atlanta, but when it comes to going out/partying/being loud, drunk, and rowdy, some of my bestest times have been had with these two chicas. They're my favorite party chicas, RS and JS. RS is spoken of frequently in this blog and JS is a friend I met through Miss Meg, who went to high school with her. It's funny because JS and I are the rowdier, louder, partier friends of Miss Meg's who is sweet and demure and reserved. (Don't get me wrong, she's not a stick in the mud, and she is fun to hang with too. . .she just isn't as wild as frequently as JS and I like to be.) JS and I always wonder how and why on earth she's friends with us?! But she is, and God bless her for it! So there are my two fave Atlanta girls.

Then, there will be a lot of local gals joining us as well, including Newsgirl, an EXCELLENT partier. And as yet unmentioned in this blog: BC. BC is a friend with whom I went to law school but never really knew. We got to be friends as we both live in Savannah now and she is just buck wild. Well, go read this. BC is the girl who copped the feel and acted insulted that her prospect didn't speak English. And Newsgirl is the one who clicked her heels on the "Little Guy's" backside. And these are some of my fave Savannah girls.

Miss Meg gets a shout-out here too, for I've planned a visit to her in DC and am bringing TJ for his birthday weekend (at Thanksgiving). It's a surprise! And I just got to see Miss Meg at the beginning of October and now again so soon!! And we're going to have a blast too. Gosh, I am blessed with some seriously awesome honies for girlfriends!!

Near Misses

Ok, one more for today. I am just SO prolific. TJ had several instances this weekend where he gazed longingly into my eyes and I really thought he was about to say something sweet or even profound, like, "I love you" (hello?!) or "You're so beautiful." And instead. . .he didn't. For instance, last night, as I was sleeping (since I have to get up at the ass crack to drive back to Savannah) and he was awake, I caught him at one point, my head cradled in his arms, just watching me as I slept. My eyes fluttered open and he was just stroking my head and hair, and just watching me sleep. I thought I had dreamed it actually. But I asked him this morning about it, and he said yeah, he was watching me and stroking and caressing me. It's something he hasn't done since very very early in the relationship. . .just hold me, and run his hands over my face and head. It's hard to describe, but it really feels good. And when a boy looks at you like that he was looking at me, you just know he must heart you. So that's all sweet and good and everything. . .

But apparently, um, well, this is embarrassing, but SO FUNNY. Apparently, I have a little gas problem. I virtually never pass gas while awake, but am a prolific gas factory while sleeping. TJ has begun calling me out about this recently, and it's really funny and you can tell that he really thinks it's cute and not gross, and it makes me laugh and I never thought I could feel so endearing about my flatulence as I do with this man.

So, this weekend, Saturday morning, he's gazing at me sweetly, longingly, with just this *look* in his eye. I think, this is it, he's going to tell me. . .!!

So, he takes a deep breath, and says,

"You pooted SO MUCH last night. . .my foot got warm."

He went on to explain that it was good to know that come winter, he'd just have to cuddle up with his babe and that he'd be sure not to leave any open flames lying around with me in the bed.

Worthwhile

Something is spurring me to write this entry, but I don't want to specify, so instead I'm going to open with a story that I *also* find applicable. This weekend, I found myself, albeit briefly, getting really sad. Last night, I thought about the fact that TJ *still* hasn't told me he loves me (although I think he really does, and I maintain that I am holding out for his comfort level in being able to say it). I also began to get really sad because I knew I had to leave today, and we'd had such a great weekend, I especially didn't want to.

But I thought of two things: as RS wisely reminded me, declarations of love don't create love, and their absence doesn't mean that love isn't present either. I just have to wait until he's ready. Also, I used to get really sad when my ex would leave to go to work every Monday morning (through Friday, as he was a traveling consultant). I think it really hurt him. And there was nothing he could do about my sorrow, and I surmise that my sadness and our mutual inability to deal with the difficulties attending our relationship contributed to its demise. So I thought to myself, "You can't be sad. There's nothing you can do about not being able to see him all the time RIGHT NOW. Hopefully, that will change in time, but nowhere in the near future, so just suck it up, and be thankful for the time you have. There's no POINT in getting sad about it." Now, both these things invoked sadness, but not in the relationship itself, TJ hadn't done anything wrong. . .it's just that right now, circumstantially, things aren't ideally the way I would have them be. . .which got me to thinking. . .

Why do people think that the "perfect" relationship is supposed to solve all problems? That once you have that magical, "One"ness with another person, that trials and tribulations become null and void?

Relationships, even the "One" relationship, a marriage or marriage potential relationship. . .are just like everything else in life. Hard sometimes, but difficultly notwithstanding, they have the potential to be ultimately rewarding. And we weigh everything in life, as to whether its "worth" outweighs its difficulty. Friendships, jobs, family relationships, material items. . .is having that car/a continuing relationship with my sister/that job/a dog WORTH the corresponding amount of trouble it takes? It is ultimately more rewarding that the amount of physical, mental, and sometimes emotional energy it takes? It's all a balancing process, a weighing out of options. No one's Relationship is perfect. . .but what says more about a couple than how often they have difficulties, is how they choose to deal with those difficulties and whether they choose to compromise through them and still want to be together in the end. . .the most obvious example with me is that TJ and I travel every weekend to be together, one or the other of us, 4 1/2 hours round trip. Because we think it's worth it. There are some guys I wouldn't drive 10 minutes across town to date. . .but for him, 2 hours doesn't seem that far. . .

I think people have the tendency to think that all things in life are fallible. . .except "my Relationship," it's perfect and makes all life Sunny Sunshiney at all times. Relationships are made up of not just one, but TWO imperfect people, with insecurities and neuroses and problems and mood swings and all other manner of horrible, icky qualities. . .and wonderful, mesmerizing, lovable qualities too. Of course there are difficulties. But do you love him/her? Do you want him/her by your side through those difficulties? Is it ultimately more rewarding than the amount of "trouble" it takes?

THAT'S More Like It

My boyfriend is fantastic. Really. We didn't fight ALL weekend, not even just a little. Friday night, we went out with his friend. We drank. We talked. We people watched. We got tipsy. We ended the night at the Taco Bell drive-thru. Chalupas, yum. Saturday AM, the tile-layers at his roommate's house were trying their best to keep me awake. I succumbed to the fitful half-sleep that I could get. TJ got up. He comes in about 10:15, all sweaty. "What have you been doing?" I asked. "I got up and washed my car," he said, "couldn't sleep." So, when he told me it was 10:15, I got up and quickly dressed, knowing that I had time to make it to Chick Fil A before the 10:30 chicken biscuit whistle sounded. In the meantime, TJ disappeared.

Yup. He was on his way to Chick Fil A already. He brought me back a biscuit and hash browns, unsolicited, no instructions necessary. He said, "I've never seen a biscuit make someone so happy." And previously, when I discovered his absence, when I went outside to see if his car was there. . .yup. He'd washed my car too. He's the sweetest.

We went to the Jacksonville Landing and hung out all day and watched the Georgia Florida game when it came on. We ate wings at Hooters and watched the Dawgs FINALLY win. I had to defend my sweet in the orange shirt against the onslaught of the catty girls next to us who asked if he was wearing ORANGE?! disdainfully. Wrapping my red and black arms around him, I said, "no it's ok, he's with me." "Oh ok, whew! As long as he's with you," they said they would let it slide. His team, Miami, got beat. . .to a 3 and 4, unranked team. Ouch! I still convinced him to go to the Halloween party his friends were throwing, for a bit, although we were tired for drinking all day. Yesterday, we vegged. We went to see the Grudge. More on that later. . .

But really, weekends like this remind me that even when we fight, it's all worth it. We heart each other an awful lot.