Tag Archives: personal

Sunday Sunshine

Oh, Sunday morning. You sneaky little bastard. Always coming far too soon and reminding me that my only weekend accomplishments were two inappropriate hookups and one load of laundry. Damn it.

Last night, as is becoming the Saturday night norm, I ran into three former flings. This town has got to get a better variety of men, because if this pace keeps up, I’ll be on round two by July.

First, I went to a friend’s housewarming at his sweet new downtown apartment. The co-worker I hooked up with on Friday was there, which was nice and cozy since half of my office was also there. Fun times.

Interestingly enough, the building my friend moved into also houses a certain Back Alley Way Lover. Approximately 10 seconds after I posted a picture of the view, he texted me asking if I was in his building. I stopped by to “say hi” on the way out. And I mean saying hi in the sense of making out in the hallway.

Later, I ran into poor Mr. Tomato Seeds. It was good to see him because he is such a sweet guy, but it was also a little strange. Primarily because he wouldn’t stop telling me how beautiful I looked and actually stroked my face longingly at one point. He will likely feel embarrassed about this when he remembers it today.

On a note that has nothing to do with this weekend’s shenanigans, here are five bits of sunshine making my Sunday less of an asshole:

[new favorite soup from whole foods – tomato zucchini. yum.]

[my super cool austin subway style prints from etsy, dressing up my red accent wall]

[refreshing raspberry gelato, looking extra appealing in a mini martini glass]

[festive spring flowers – one of my many impulse purchases from whole foods]

[new shoes for spring. damn you, temptress that is shoedazzle.]

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Welcome to the Office Slut Club

With the exception of my steadfast determination to hook up with San Fran Crush (one of my personal favorite tales of singlehood), I have made it a general rule not to hook up with co-workers.

As of last night, so much for that.

On a side note – it has come to my attention that some of my co-workers are also closet RFTL fans. (Hi guys! Yes, I know you’re reading.) As such, I am going to have to omit a certain level of detail for the sake of professionalism. And not having a line form for the office slut now that the rule has been broken.

Keep your inquiries to yourselves, gentlemen. This is not a circus ride.

So last night, I ran into a co-worker at a bar. We have known each other for a while, but never been single at the same time. Until now. He joined my group of friends, and we all had a great time hanging out. We flirted harmlessly, but I never found myself thinking “Gee, I hope I wake up with you tomorrow! That sounds swell.”

At the end of the night, one of my girlfriends got a little too tipsy. And by tipsy, I mean physically tipping while trying to walk. To prevent her from getting date raped, mugged, or carried off by a large bird, I decided to take her back to my place and put her to bed.

As I wrapped my arm around her and limped out of the bar, it was obvious that I needed some help. Enter: co-worker. He helped me get her the two blocks back to my place, and played with my dogs as I moved the trash can next to the bed for her.

Now, let’s be clear: we were both inebriated. Had this not been the case, I doubt he would have made a move. But when I went to sit near him, things escalated quickly. What can I say, I’m a sucker for a man who strokes my arm sweetly. Such behavior deserves reward.

To be clear for the inevitable office rumors I have just inflicted upon myself, we did not have sex. We did, however, go back to his place for some surprisingly great post-bar action. So good that I would be up for it again if the situation presented itself. Which is saying a lot because that’s the highest level of commitment I give.

It was actually really nice to wake up next to someone I knew was not a serial killer or rapist for once. We’re stepping in a positive direction, people. Be proud of me.

I have absolutely no delusions that this will turn into anything more than hooking up. I very much enjoyed it, but I think we are both on the same page with just wanting some action.

I really am every douchebag’s dream right now, aren’t I?

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Love, Unrequited

Last night, for the second time since my annulment, I went on a first date.

[this is the outfit I wore]

Leading up to the date, I was less than nervous. Probably because he kept sending me text messages telling me how amazing I was and how much he was looking forward to getting to know me. A normal lady might find this considerate and thoughtful, but it mildly induced my gag reflex.

An hour before the date, however, my suitor redeemed himself by prank calling me. He kept a stoic voice and accused me of already being late before cracking up and saying he’d see me soon. It was admittedly weird, but had me blushing with playful delight.

When the time came, I went to our designated meeting place by the plants in front of Whole Foods and waited for him to arrive. That’s when I spotted him. Not my date – Back Alley Way Lover. Yes, my first first date in Austin had the gall to purchase whatever bananas, eggs, and contraception he needed smack in front of the place I was meeting my new date. Plain rude if you asked me.

Being the dodger that I am, I instantly dropped about 3 feet attempting to duck behind the most robust bunch of thyme. I don’t think it worked, but my date managed to arrive before BAWL finished checking out and we walked away faster than you can say “awkward confrontation.”

[when all else fails, hide behind small foliage]

My first impression of new boy was: I should have worn flats. I know I had a lot to drink when we met, but could my depth perception have been that affected? Or had he possibly been wearing man heels? I mean we are not talking midget stature, but the man could use a lift.

About ten minutes into dinner, I had already decided things weren’t going to work out. He was a really nice guy, but just too outgoing and hyper. Look, buddy – that’s my job. There can only be one spotlight hog in a relationship, and it’s going to be the girl who blogs about her dates for attention.

That’s when he started rummaging in his pocket. “I almost forgot, I have something for you,” he said. “I couldn’t get you flowers because I knew we’d be walking around, but I know you like to cook so I got you these tomato seeds. Maybe you can give me one if you ever get around to planting them.”

[the actual tomato seeds. they can grow like our love.]

Oh Lord, I thought. This letting him down thing is going to be much more difficult than I thought.

I spent the rest of dinner sitting on my hands to prevent him from reaching for one. I don’t think he read the body language correctly. He didn’t want to end the night and I felt like a bitch telling him I was ready to go home, so we went down the street for a drink and some live music.

“I’m really glad I’m on this date with you,” he confessed.

“Thank you.” I replied.

“Aren’t you supposed to be glad, too?” he said with a wounded face, tomato seeds in hand.

Well, fuck. I’ve been caught.

Apparently that didn’t matter because he brushed off my faux pas in stride and went to get us drinks. Meanwhile, I crafted my exit strategy. Potential text messages with a firm, yet gentle let-down swirled through my head. And then a brilliant idea came to me.

I will scare him off, I thought. I will hit him with everything I’ve got, he will no longer be interested, and I don’t even have to send a break up message. How am I so fucking smart?

[muahaha, you’ll never want to date me now]

Suddenly, I was excited for his return. I couldn’t wait to share my secrets and go back to doing more interesting things, like folding laundry. It was every first date’s nightmare: not only would I bring up my ex, I would bring up my ex-husband.

I spilled the beans and waited. And then came the kicker.

Surprise! He was married before, too.

And now we’re bonding.

[they call that a backfire, folks.]

Things just went from “he’s way too into me” to “he thinks the fates have brought us together,” and I am in hell. He was so proud of me for how strong and brave I was for having the guts to tell him. We actually had a really nice conversation about our respective breakups and subsequent depression, but there was just still no spark for me.

When he finally walked me home, he gave me a hug goodnight, marveling at what an amazing time he had. Then he pulled me in for hug round two, because much like me, round one was just so special.

How do I let this sweet boy down gently? He even got a haircut just for the date.

Much like his poor little heart will soon be, I am at a loss.

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Roasted Vegetable & Avocado Medley

In a “Hail Mary” effort to fit back into my pants before tonight’s hot date, I decided to eat something mildly healthy. As an added bonus, it’s the first day of spring and this recipe just might make me look less like Rosie O’Donnell in a bathing suit when summer rolls along.

Regarding tonight’s dinner date, I have high hopes. Supporting reasons for this include:

1. My date has not yet tried to feel me up in a dark alleyway.
2. He has not yet found my blog.
3. I am 90% certain he is not secretly gay.
4. Yesterday, an ugly bird shit on my head. Apparently this is a good omen.

With any date, it’s important to detox beforehand and wear something figure flattering, but not slutty. Which is unfortunate because I may have just eaten a slice of birthday cake and forgotten to launder half of my wardrobe. So I suppose the corset will have to do.

But even when I don’t need to squeeze into a corset, I love fresh vegetables. Not as much as I love cake, but they have their moments. This little diddy that I threw together showcases all of the fresh, flavorful, juicy, creamy, and acidic flavors that nature has to offer.

I like to consider avocado a vegetable to excuse the quantities I eat it in. In this dish, the avocado almost coats everything, giving it a luscious and rich texture that it just to die for.

To make this springtime wonder, you’ll need:

  • 1 zucchini, cubed
  • 1/2 avocado, cubed
  • 2 tomatoes, cubed
  • 1/8 c mild soft cheese, cubed (I used goat’s milk mozzarella and it was a good decision. Slightly melted with the roasted veggies and gave it a tang.)
  • 1 Tbsp olive oil
  • 2 tsp lime juice
  • 2 Tbsp fresh basil, cut into strips
  • salt & pepper to taste
Heat the olive oil in a pan over medium-low heat. Add the zucchini and cook until beginning to brown, about 5 minutes. Add the tomatoes and cook until warmed through. Combine in a bowl with avocado and cheese. Add olive oil, lime juice, salt, & pepper and mix. Top with basil ribbons.

And for the record, I am not really wearing a corset. I’ll save that for the second date.

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Textiquette

In my six months of singlehood, it has come to my attention that texting is the new mating call. And in a world where young people hook up at rates disturbingly close to those seen on Jersey Shore, knowing how to do it right is no joking matter.

It requires a delicate balance of tact and grammatical correctness to leap over the abyss of text failure and make it to the first date. And let me tell you, friends – nobody comes back from the abyss.

Now not everyone has the same rules for texting. Some women dismiss a guy who sexts (apparently I don’t). In any case, these are my rules. Gentlemen, grab a pen because you will be immediately dismissed for committing any of the following offenses:

1. Sending me paragraphs. It’s great that you have a really funny story to tell me. Now stop clogging my fucking inbox and tell it to me over dinner instead.

2. Using too many abbreviations. One fell into the abyss for this reason just last week. Y u no wnt 2 date? Because I’m not sure you passed preschool, that’s why.

3. Misspelling too many words. You get two strikes for the sake of autocorrect, but one man actually texted me to turn at a stop sine. Unless he’s being facetious about trigonometry, that’s a deal breaker. Though I do appreciate a good math joke.

4. Texting anything serious or important. Examples of things to talk about face-to-face: I love you, I actually like men, or I have chlamydia. Sorry about that.

5. Texting without reason. “Hello.” Goodbye.

You may wonder why I’ve got texting on the brain. Well, on Saturday night (before meeting my fake gay bff), I met a very sweet guy who also happened to be rather attractive. We chatted it up for about twenty minutes before I had to leave with my friends, and he got my number on the way out.

We have been texting back and forth since, and though he is coming on very strongly, he seems like a genuine guy who really wants to take me out and treat me well. His texts are quite frequent, but do not violate any of the above rules. So let’s give the guy a chance. Poor thing has no idea what he is signing up for, anyway. We’ll see how long he can hang, starting with dinner tomorrow night.

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