Not only did I NOT break it off with Hottest Guy last night, I made a huge neurotic mess of things. All of a sudden, instead of being my usual spitfire, Queen, iii self, I was nervous and blushing and a little bit silly - like a little school girl in front of her much older crush. Seriously. Could it get much worse??
It could.
If I could have left with some dignity, with some ounce of self-respect, then it wouldn't have been worse. It would have been just another one of Queen's silly little bunglings, funny misadventures...it would have been, but...but...*sigh*
I walked in to Hottest Guy's loft ready for battle, ready to just get it all over with. I listened to Fiona Apple all the way over there! I was ready. He was upstairs. My whole excuse for going over there in the first place, was to get my earrings back...he wasn't borrowing them, I left them there after a date. I go upstairs. We exchage short greetings. He gets me my earrings. I put them in my pocket. Then the dialogue (and I'm summing up):
Q: Thanks for the earrings. (I'm trying to keep it short.) Oh. And here's your t-shirt you let me borrow.
HG: Oh...o-o-kay. (Significant pause. He looks deep into my eyes.)
Q: 'Cause you know, I don't really know when I'm going to see you again...
HG: O-o-kay. (He keeps looking deeply in my eyes. He pauses and sighs.) You know, Queen, you're not not seeing me. It's not like you're never going to see me again.
Q: (Here's where I really start to break down.) Well, you know, I mean I know that, it's just that you know, I just have been getting some mixed signals from you and I don't really know what to think and I certainly don't want to make you do anything you don't want to do, so you know, I just thought I should just get my stuff and give you yours and then whatever...
HG: You're not forcing me to do anything I don't want to do. I really like you, Queen, and I want to continue to see you.
Q: Well, okay, that's fine. I've just been getting mixed signals is all and, you know, um...most guys I date really sort of show a little more interest or at least return my phone calls...
HG: I've returned your phone calls.
Q: Well, most of them, but you're not really battin' a hundred. (I momentarily gain a little control of myself, but it soon all goes to hell in a handbasket.)
HG: Look, I'm sorry. But I really do like you and I really want to continue to see you! (Again, he looks deeply into my eyes. This makes me nervous, but in a way that I like. The fact that I like it, makes me even more nervous. The fact that I'm nervous makes me mad at myself. It was very confusing. And neurotic.)
Q: Okay, well, I wouldn't mind that. That's fine. I mean, I'd like to continue to see you, too, so good. Okay. Okay. I have to go. But, HG, look, if I don't fit into your life that's totally okay. You can just tell me because I won't mind at this point (Obviously, I'm a liar). I mean, it's okay if I don't fit into your life, because I'm kinda feeling like I don't fit into your life.
HG: Queen, stop being so sensitive.
(And here, right here, is where I truly lose it. Truly. In response to him telling me to stop being so sensitive, I...did sort of like a litle running in place thing....just for about a second, but still...imagine Flashdance - you know "She's a maniac, maniac..." Horrifying, isn't it?)
Q: I'm not being sensitive!!!
HG: Okay, look, I have to go pick up my drunk friends at a bar, but when I get done I'm going to call you. I promise. And we'll talk.
Q: Okay...okay...okay....I'll take you for your word. (And as I'm walking out the door, I say...) By the way, I waxed my car by myself last week!
(I just couldn't leave with any sort of dignity, could I?? NO! I waxed my car???? Who cares?! Why did I say that???? I could have left with something....even after my Flashdance interpretation! But, no. Not me. Who needs dignity??? Apparently not me anymore. Maybe next time I go over to his loft, I can throw up on his front porch.)
HG: That's pretty cool. Talk to you soon.
And we did talk again soon. Because he called. And while, I maybe a little trigger happy to kick this one to the curb, all in all, he seems like a fairly decent guy....which may explain my propensity to get rid of him. Decent guys, as history has shown, aren't really my type. And conducting my every day life with any shred of dignity is apparently, no longer my style!
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
If I rip it off like a band-aid, maybe it won't hurt so much
Remember Hottest Guy from this post? Well, I'm flushing him down the toilet tonight (figuratively) and it's going to be so hard because he's so hott. I can't believe I'm doing this, but frankly, he hasn't been paying me the appropriate amount of attention, so he has to get the boot. I wish it didn't have to go down like this, but a girl's gotta do, you know?? I'm gonna try to do it quickly, so it doesn't hurt as much, but truth be told, I may cry myself to sleep tonight. Let's hope my eyes don't swell shut.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
There Comes a Time....
There comes a time in every mid-twenties single girl's life when she starts to really wonder what the heck is wrong with her. For me, this happens at least twice a year. While I'm in Everycity, I never really think about it. But, when I go home, this malaise creeps upon me like a chigger bug and bites me right behind the knee.
You see, everyone in my family is attached to some significant other... everyone except me that is. Brother is attached, BFF is married, even my fat ugly cousin is married!! And to someone who actually has a sense of humor and isn't significantly malformed in any way!!
At first, I don't notice. But after awhile, it starts to plague me. Why am I not attached? What is wrong with me? How can my fat, ugly, uninteresting, slightly retarted cousin be married and I can't even get a guy to commit to go to the movies with me??? There must be something horribly, terribly wrong with me!!!
And it doesn't help that my mother keeps saying encouraging things like, "Don't worry honey, when the time is right you'll find him!" Maybe this is why I puked in the neighbor's front lawn.
The thing of it is, I don't even really want to be attached. I like sleeping by myself everynight. I like using men for free meals and such. I like spending time by myself doing whatever I want whenever I want. But being around married people and significantly attached people makes me neurotic. Or, to be accurate, MORE neurotic than usual. Like I need help being MORE neurotic.
Anywho, I'll snap out of it in about a week or two, but until then, I'm probably gonna have to watch a few chick flicks and listen soft rock until I'm sick and tired of love.
You see, everyone in my family is attached to some significant other... everyone except me that is. Brother is attached, BFF is married, even my fat ugly cousin is married!! And to someone who actually has a sense of humor and isn't significantly malformed in any way!!
At first, I don't notice. But after awhile, it starts to plague me. Why am I not attached? What is wrong with me? How can my fat, ugly, uninteresting, slightly retarted cousin be married and I can't even get a guy to commit to go to the movies with me??? There must be something horribly, terribly wrong with me!!!
And it doesn't help that my mother keeps saying encouraging things like, "Don't worry honey, when the time is right you'll find him!" Maybe this is why I puked in the neighbor's front lawn.
The thing of it is, I don't even really want to be attached. I like sleeping by myself everynight. I like using men for free meals and such. I like spending time by myself doing whatever I want whenever I want. But being around married people and significantly attached people makes me neurotic. Or, to be accurate, MORE neurotic than usual. Like I need help being MORE neurotic.
Anywho, I'll snap out of it in about a week or two, but until then, I'm probably gonna have to watch a few chick flicks and listen soft rock until I'm sick and tired of love.
Monday, November 27, 2006
The Bold, Naked Truth
There have been few times in my life in which I have lost all dignity. This may come as a bit of a shock to most of you. But, it's true. Even in the darkest of moments, even in the face of total embarrassment, I manage to gather up some of my dignity and hold my head high. In fact, I can't think of a single moment in which I've lost all dignity....that is... previous to last week.
I was at home - my parents' home that is. I feel really safe and comfortable at home. I don't have to be pretty or even particularly nice and people still love me. It's great. So, because of my high comfort level, I sometimes do things that I wouldn't normally do.
It's Thursday (Thanksgiving). We're at my BFF's house. There's lots of booze. And I start drinking. And drinking. And drinking. Then, I passed out in a chair. I awoke at 6 am. I drive home. Barefoot. I fall into bed in hopes to sleep it off.
Around noon on Friday, my mom comes into my room and announces that she wants us to all go eat as a family and then go shopping. I get out of bed, but realize I still have a lot of alcohol in my system. Being the clever girl I am, I force myself to throw up, thinking that will do the trick. I take a shower and we go to lunch. The whole family. Me, Brother, Mom and Dad. Precious. We go eat and maybe I don't eat as much as usual. No one seems to notice, fortunately, except for Brother because he actually saw my descent into drunken debauchery. Mom and Dad are shopping and Brother and I venture off in our own direction, but about 20 minutes later, I realize that I'm still not feeling so well. I make Brother go corral the parentals. It takes him FOREVER. In the mean time, I'm trying to sleep on a bench, but it isn't going very well.
Finally, we're in the car, but we can't find Dad. Mom has to drive around the parking lot for a minute until we find him wandering. The house is just around the corner. I think I can make it. But every bump in the road feels like a finger down my throat.
We're less that a half-mile away. I declare, "I'm going to throw up."
"Right now?" Mom asks.
"No, I can make it," I claim. But two seconds later, when we're approximately 50 feet from my parents' house, I realize I can't make it. I weakly bang on the car door. Brother understands.
"Stop now, Mom!!" Brother exclaims.
She stops. I fly out of the car and onto the neighbor's lawn. I immediately begin to empty my guts on the neighbor's lawn. The neighbor is standing out on his lawn, fortunately. He seemed to express some concern. Then the across the street neighbor comes out of her house. As I'm throwing up. Then the other next door neighbor drives by and stops to see if everything's okay. As I'm throwing up. It's possible that the whole neighborhood was out, but I just didn't notice them over all the throwing up I was doing.
As I finally stood up to walk the 50 feet back into my parents' house, I realized that was, hands down, the most undignified moment of my entire life... and possibly the lowest moment of my entire life as well, but that's hard to say since I don't really remember most of the events that led up to my puking in the neighbor's front yard.
And there it is. Let's hope it doesn't get much lower than this.
I was at home - my parents' home that is. I feel really safe and comfortable at home. I don't have to be pretty or even particularly nice and people still love me. It's great. So, because of my high comfort level, I sometimes do things that I wouldn't normally do.
It's Thursday (Thanksgiving). We're at my BFF's house. There's lots of booze. And I start drinking. And drinking. And drinking. Then, I passed out in a chair. I awoke at 6 am. I drive home. Barefoot. I fall into bed in hopes to sleep it off.
Around noon on Friday, my mom comes into my room and announces that she wants us to all go eat as a family and then go shopping. I get out of bed, but realize I still have a lot of alcohol in my system. Being the clever girl I am, I force myself to throw up, thinking that will do the trick. I take a shower and we go to lunch. The whole family. Me, Brother, Mom and Dad. Precious. We go eat and maybe I don't eat as much as usual. No one seems to notice, fortunately, except for Brother because he actually saw my descent into drunken debauchery. Mom and Dad are shopping and Brother and I venture off in our own direction, but about 20 minutes later, I realize that I'm still not feeling so well. I make Brother go corral the parentals. It takes him FOREVER. In the mean time, I'm trying to sleep on a bench, but it isn't going very well.
Finally, we're in the car, but we can't find Dad. Mom has to drive around the parking lot for a minute until we find him wandering. The house is just around the corner. I think I can make it. But every bump in the road feels like a finger down my throat.
We're less that a half-mile away. I declare, "I'm going to throw up."
"Right now?" Mom asks.
"No, I can make it," I claim. But two seconds later, when we're approximately 50 feet from my parents' house, I realize I can't make it. I weakly bang on the car door. Brother understands.
"Stop now, Mom!!" Brother exclaims.
She stops. I fly out of the car and onto the neighbor's lawn. I immediately begin to empty my guts on the neighbor's lawn. The neighbor is standing out on his lawn, fortunately. He seemed to express some concern. Then the across the street neighbor comes out of her house. As I'm throwing up. Then the other next door neighbor drives by and stops to see if everything's okay. As I'm throwing up. It's possible that the whole neighborhood was out, but I just didn't notice them over all the throwing up I was doing.
As I finally stood up to walk the 50 feet back into my parents' house, I realized that was, hands down, the most undignified moment of my entire life... and possibly the lowest moment of my entire life as well, but that's hard to say since I don't really remember most of the events that led up to my puking in the neighbor's front yard.
And there it is. Let's hope it doesn't get much lower than this.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
So many men, so little time
Okay, so in my last post (which, I know, was about a billion days ago), I mentioned briefly how busy I was breaking men's hearts while simultaneously eating the food they buy me. And I have been busy, it true.
However, I am ashamed of the way I have neglected my blog and YOU, my faithful readers...all three of you. But, I'm going to catch you all up to speed in the next few days. I promise, promise, promise.
Firstly, let me elaborate on weekend before last:
On Friday, my lovely cousin called me and told me she had snagged me a ticket to one of the hottest parties of the season. I couldn't get a ticket myself, because they were sold about 4 months in advance (or something like that), but she, being the amazing woman that she is, produced one out of thin air - AND for FREE!!!
So, I rushed to get myself together, it was cocktail attire, so unfortunately I coudn't go in jeans. Now, this was one of those parties where there are mostly just married couples, but there's lots of free booze. And you know how the old saying goes, where there's free booze, there's Queeniii!
I was planning on having a pretty good time despite there being a shortage of men. After the party, the girls and I decided we'd all head up to the hottest new nightclub in town that just happened to be in the same hotel the party was. What fun! Honest, tipsy, boyless fun!
So, we go to the party. We eat, we drink, we gamble for charity. After we played the Black Jack tables to our hearts' content, we mosied on over to the main bar. Now, let me reiterate that this is a party with mostly married couples.
So, we're at the bar, and I'm already pretty happy, and I'm not paying attention and I accidently cut in line. Nobody likes a cutter. I turn around to apologize for my inconsiderate behavior, and behind me stand two beautiful, beautiful men. I'm almost speechless, but I pull it together, reminding myself that they're probably here with someone. I apologize and flirt just a little. They flirt back. I ask who they're with. They say no one. I ask how they got invited. They responded, but I wasn't listening. My girls come over. I introduce everyone. Everyone starts having a lot of fun. We decide it's time to go up to the hip club upstairs.
Up we go.
I should just cut to the chase. The hottest one of the duo becomes my make-out partner.
I know you're all very proud.
We decide to leave the hotel and check out hottest boy's downtown loft. We go.
I realize as we're in the car on the way to hottest boy's loft, I've lost my keys. All of them. My only copy to EVERYTHING!!! crap.
But, what could I do? Go back and ruin the whole night?? NO! I was not going to ruin a night of fun with my girls and two really, really, really hot guys!
What can I say, I'm a matyr.
We get to hottest guy's loft. It's ginormous. With a deck, a pool table, a half court basketball thing, a big screen, etc. I asked several times if hottest guy was a drug dealer. He said no, but he was an Eagle Scout. I furrowed my brow at this repeatedly.
In addition to hottest boy's ridiculous loft, he had two garages with 4 cars. A BMW, a circa 1970s Land Cruiser, a circa 1990s Land Cruiser, and some sort of classic American convertable. He still claims he's not a drug dealer.
Anywho - long story longer, hottest boy was smitten with me, couldn't get enough of me, wanted me to call him the next day. I did. Two days later we went out. But, I'll talk more about that later.
Fortunately, the hotel and the hott nightclub are right next door to my house, so after our night of fun, I got my stuff out of my friend's hotel room and walked my pathetic, drunken little butt home.
Because I didn't have my keys, I had to hang out with the security guard for about 30 minutes and wait for the not-very-courteous-courtesy officer to unlock my apartment for a violating $25.
I walk inside my apartment. Taraji has been alone for a very, very long time now. It was a disaster. He had gotten ahold of my hot pink feather boa and torn it to shreds. He also knocked some things over, pulled some things out of their place, and generally made about as big a mess as dogly possible. The good news is, however, that he didn't pee on the carpet. What joy.
The next day, I had to spend all the daylight hours fixing the mess I had made the night before.
And then I had a date. With another man.
More about that later!!
However, I am ashamed of the way I have neglected my blog and YOU, my faithful readers...all three of you. But, I'm going to catch you all up to speed in the next few days. I promise, promise, promise.
Firstly, let me elaborate on weekend before last:
On Friday, my lovely cousin called me and told me she had snagged me a ticket to one of the hottest parties of the season. I couldn't get a ticket myself, because they were sold about 4 months in advance (or something like that), but she, being the amazing woman that she is, produced one out of thin air - AND for FREE!!!
So, I rushed to get myself together, it was cocktail attire, so unfortunately I coudn't go in jeans. Now, this was one of those parties where there are mostly just married couples, but there's lots of free booze. And you know how the old saying goes, where there's free booze, there's Queeniii!
I was planning on having a pretty good time despite there being a shortage of men. After the party, the girls and I decided we'd all head up to the hottest new nightclub in town that just happened to be in the same hotel the party was. What fun! Honest, tipsy, boyless fun!
So, we go to the party. We eat, we drink, we gamble for charity. After we played the Black Jack tables to our hearts' content, we mosied on over to the main bar. Now, let me reiterate that this is a party with mostly married couples.
So, we're at the bar, and I'm already pretty happy, and I'm not paying attention and I accidently cut in line. Nobody likes a cutter. I turn around to apologize for my inconsiderate behavior, and behind me stand two beautiful, beautiful men. I'm almost speechless, but I pull it together, reminding myself that they're probably here with someone. I apologize and flirt just a little. They flirt back. I ask who they're with. They say no one. I ask how they got invited. They responded, but I wasn't listening. My girls come over. I introduce everyone. Everyone starts having a lot of fun. We decide it's time to go up to the hip club upstairs.
Up we go.
I should just cut to the chase. The hottest one of the duo becomes my make-out partner.
I know you're all very proud.
We decide to leave the hotel and check out hottest boy's downtown loft. We go.
I realize as we're in the car on the way to hottest boy's loft, I've lost my keys. All of them. My only copy to EVERYTHING!!! crap.
But, what could I do? Go back and ruin the whole night?? NO! I was not going to ruin a night of fun with my girls and two really, really, really hot guys!
What can I say, I'm a matyr.
We get to hottest guy's loft. It's ginormous. With a deck, a pool table, a half court basketball thing, a big screen, etc. I asked several times if hottest guy was a drug dealer. He said no, but he was an Eagle Scout. I furrowed my brow at this repeatedly.
In addition to hottest boy's ridiculous loft, he had two garages with 4 cars. A BMW, a circa 1970s Land Cruiser, a circa 1990s Land Cruiser, and some sort of classic American convertable. He still claims he's not a drug dealer.
Anywho - long story longer, hottest boy was smitten with me, couldn't get enough of me, wanted me to call him the next day. I did. Two days later we went out. But, I'll talk more about that later.
Fortunately, the hotel and the hott nightclub are right next door to my house, so after our night of fun, I got my stuff out of my friend's hotel room and walked my pathetic, drunken little butt home.
Because I didn't have my keys, I had to hang out with the security guard for about 30 minutes and wait for the not-very-courteous-courtesy officer to unlock my apartment for a violating $25.
I walk inside my apartment. Taraji has been alone for a very, very long time now. It was a disaster. He had gotten ahold of my hot pink feather boa and torn it to shreds. He also knocked some things over, pulled some things out of their place, and generally made about as big a mess as dogly possible. The good news is, however, that he didn't pee on the carpet. What joy.
The next day, I had to spend all the daylight hours fixing the mess I had made the night before.
And then I had a date. With another man.
More about that later!!
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
I'm exhausted
Turns out, using men for free meals and blog material is a lot harder than you might think. I'm so busy, I have hardly a moment to tell you guys about it!
I haven't even gotten a moment (until now) to describe in detail my wild weekend, in which I lost my keys, my dog shredded my hot pink feather boa, and I might have made out with one or two people!!!
My students are being SO high maintenance right now. For instance, just now, I told them to go work in groups, but I can see from my computer that their self-supervision really isn't going very well. I'm probably going to have to get up at some point.
My main idea is, I really, really would like to be blabbing my guts to the world via the internet, but alas! I'm swamped. So, I'll be blabbing my guts soon, but not today. I have a date today, and a room of high-maintenance second graders.
But soon, you'll get the truth - all of it.
You can hardly wait, huh?
I haven't even gotten a moment (until now) to describe in detail my wild weekend, in which I lost my keys, my dog shredded my hot pink feather boa, and I might have made out with one or two people!!!
My students are being SO high maintenance right now. For instance, just now, I told them to go work in groups, but I can see from my computer that their self-supervision really isn't going very well. I'm probably going to have to get up at some point.
My main idea is, I really, really would like to be blabbing my guts to the world via the internet, but alas! I'm swamped. So, I'll be blabbing my guts soon, but not today. I have a date today, and a room of high-maintenance second graders.
But soon, you'll get the truth - all of it.
You can hardly wait, huh?
Friday, November 10, 2006
Theory No. 1: Being mean to a man makes him fall in love with you
My heart is as cold as tap water in winter. I'm turning into Miss Havershim. I can feel it happening. I just don't care.
This week, 3 seperate men, including the famed "Kelvin," have told me that they want me to be their girl forever and ever and ever and ever. And you know how I responded? I yawned. Then I popped my back.
But you know why these "men" are falling in love with me (excluding, of course, Kelvin, who's obviously insane)?? The reason they're all suddenly finding me the most irresistable woman in the world is because I won't give them any. And by "any," I don't mean money.
Additionally, I'm also kind of mean to them. Not really, really mean, but certainly not very nice. For instance, when any one of them starts off on a long monologue about how we should be together and how I'm so beautiful and sexy and we would be the perfect couple, blah, blah, blah, I completely tune them out. I honestly don't hear a single word they're saying. There are even times when I try to listen, but when I focus on their words, it starts to sounds like Portugese. I never took Portugese.
But judging from their inflection, all the words that come out of their mouth can be summed up with this: "Please, please sleep with me."
So, after each man's monologue is finished, I say: "I'm not going to sleep with you." And sometimes, I interject this throughout his monologue just to make sure he understands.
He never understands, and therefore continues talking, as if my, "I'm not going to sleep with you" actually means, "Please, please try and convince me of all the reasons I should sleep with you."
And now, I'm just exhausted. If another man tells me how sexy he thinks I am, I'm going to chew up a green crayon and puke it up.
Here's what I'm discovering: "I think you're sexy" = "I hope you're easy"
So, here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to stop being even a little bit nice. I think that I'll keep seeing all of these men, (excluding Krazy Kelvin, whom I don't even know) continue getting free meals, and elevate my meanness to a whole new level. A logical mind would conclude that a man would just ditch a girl who was mean and withholding, but I think we'll find the opposite is true. I think we'll find they won't ditch me, but instead will think my denials are acutally just a clever way to get them all to try harder. Think of all the free meals and liquor I'll get!! And the whole time they'll be thinking they're going to get "some," but they won't!!!! I can't wait!
I think this may actually seal the deal on my perpetual spinsterhood. But, no matter! As I remember it, Miss Havershim was kind of hott.
This week, 3 seperate men, including the famed "Kelvin," have told me that they want me to be their girl forever and ever and ever and ever. And you know how I responded? I yawned. Then I popped my back.
But you know why these "men" are falling in love with me (excluding, of course, Kelvin, who's obviously insane)?? The reason they're all suddenly finding me the most irresistable woman in the world is because I won't give them any. And by "any," I don't mean money.
Additionally, I'm also kind of mean to them. Not really, really mean, but certainly not very nice. For instance, when any one of them starts off on a long monologue about how we should be together and how I'm so beautiful and sexy and we would be the perfect couple, blah, blah, blah, I completely tune them out. I honestly don't hear a single word they're saying. There are even times when I try to listen, but when I focus on their words, it starts to sounds like Portugese. I never took Portugese.
But judging from their inflection, all the words that come out of their mouth can be summed up with this: "Please, please sleep with me."
So, after each man's monologue is finished, I say: "I'm not going to sleep with you." And sometimes, I interject this throughout his monologue just to make sure he understands.
He never understands, and therefore continues talking, as if my, "I'm not going to sleep with you" actually means, "Please, please try and convince me of all the reasons I should sleep with you."
And now, I'm just exhausted. If another man tells me how sexy he thinks I am, I'm going to chew up a green crayon and puke it up.
Here's what I'm discovering: "I think you're sexy" = "I hope you're easy"
So, here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to stop being even a little bit nice. I think that I'll keep seeing all of these men, (excluding Krazy Kelvin, whom I don't even know) continue getting free meals, and elevate my meanness to a whole new level. A logical mind would conclude that a man would just ditch a girl who was mean and withholding, but I think we'll find the opposite is true. I think we'll find they won't ditch me, but instead will think my denials are acutally just a clever way to get them all to try harder. Think of all the free meals and liquor I'll get!! And the whole time they'll be thinking they're going to get "some," but they won't!!!! I can't wait!
I think this may actually seal the deal on my perpetual spinsterhood. But, no matter! As I remember it, Miss Havershim was kind of hott.
Monday, November 06, 2006
I just couldn't wait
I don't want to overshadow today's previous post, as it is truly miraculous, however, today, not less than an hour ago, I got this email.
I'm not going to say how exactly I encountered this young man, but let's just say I know him very little.
It's a poem, and while I don't think it was written for me, I think he hopes that it will apply to me. It should make you want to die. (By the way, I've copied it for you here, completely unedited.)
"My love for you is as cool as the ocean
as we walked through the waves with love and devotion
my love for you is not as complex
it’s not just your looks or the great sex
it’s your personality that shines to me
being with you shows what love can be
I look at the picture that you sent me
knowing your waiting makes me happy
all the times we’ve spent together
I just hope the good times can last forever and ever
I never want anyone to tear us apart
a piece of you will always be in my heart......
Do you believe in love at first sight?
Do you believe dreams come true?
Do you believe in all this, I know I do!
I believe that dreams come true because
I have always dreamed of someone like you .
I believe in love at first sight because
it just felt so right when I saw you that night.
Now I believe, so, baby, please never leave ,
just stay with me and maybe you will finally see
that you also believe in me !!!
I LOVE YOU BABE WATING FOR YOUR RESPOND"
oh. holy. jebus.
I don't ever remember meeting this guy, and to tell you the truth, I have NO idea who he is. I mean, I can't really put a face to the name. He claims his name is Kelvin. I don't know a Kelvin...at least I don't think I know a Kelvin. And whoever he is, we've certainly never had any "great sex." Nor have we had any "times together." And never, never have we "walked through the waves in the ocean." I'm soooooo glad I didn't give this guy my phone number. I must have really known what I was doing that night! (Except for that, I did give him my email address....but a girl can't be perfect!) My point is, I DON'T KNOW THIS MAN!!!
How many different ways can you say crazy???
I'm not going to say how exactly I encountered this young man, but let's just say I know him very little.
It's a poem, and while I don't think it was written for me, I think he hopes that it will apply to me. It should make you want to die. (By the way, I've copied it for you here, completely unedited.)
"My love for you is as cool as the ocean
as we walked through the waves with love and devotion
my love for you is not as complex
it’s not just your looks or the great sex
it’s your personality that shines to me
being with you shows what love can be
I look at the picture that you sent me
knowing your waiting makes me happy
all the times we’ve spent together
I just hope the good times can last forever and ever
I never want anyone to tear us apart
a piece of you will always be in my heart......
Do you believe in love at first sight?
Do you believe dreams come true?
Do you believe in all this, I know I do!
I believe that dreams come true because
I have always dreamed of someone like you .
I believe in love at first sight because
it just felt so right when I saw you that night.
Now I believe, so, baby, please never leave ,
just stay with me and maybe you will finally see
that you also believe in me !!!
I LOVE YOU BABE WATING FOR YOUR RESPOND"
oh. holy. jebus.
I don't ever remember meeting this guy, and to tell you the truth, I have NO idea who he is. I mean, I can't really put a face to the name. He claims his name is Kelvin. I don't know a Kelvin...at least I don't think I know a Kelvin. And whoever he is, we've certainly never had any "great sex." Nor have we had any "times together." And never, never have we "walked through the waves in the ocean." I'm soooooo glad I didn't give this guy my phone number. I must have really known what I was doing that night! (Except for that, I did give him my email address....but a girl can't be perfect!) My point is, I DON'T KNOW THIS MAN!!!
How many different ways can you say crazy???
Miracle of Miracles
I had three dates this weekend with three different men. Each one provided me with great opportunity to break out the Make-Out Bandit Cape.
However--and this is the biggest news anyone's ever heard--I did NOT make out with a single one!
I'm totally not kidding.
I am the picture of restraint! Look at me! Before you know it, I'll be wearing Victorian collars and hiding my ankles with high boots and long skirts!
I don't even really know how I managed it all. I mean, the opportunity was there, but I just didn't take it. That NEVER happens. Not ever.
And, let's just all be honest here, it's probably never going to happen again.
So, let us mark down this monumental event in history. Let us take a moment and realize how rare this happening truly is. And if you feel tears welling in your eyes, just let them go. Now, you must know what it was like for the Israelites to see the Red Sea parted!
And to add to this miracle of miracles, nary a one of them were married!
Praise Jebus.
You're weeping, aren't you?
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