the great debate

i am not a naturally social person. i do not enjoy big crowds. i have a hard time attending concerts in large venues. sporting events are tolerable because i am able to yell loud obnoxious things (most of the time) and ignore the crowd around me. i like my bars small and limited on space. i prefer coffee with a specific friend vs a house party with everyone i've ever been introduced to (or worse, a bunch of strangers at someone else's party). i like working in my office because it's just my guys in and out all day with very, VERY few customers ever stopping by.

i prefer to spend my evenings at home reading a book or watching tv series on netflix, even if they're terrible (looking at you private practice).

BUT. 

i know that hiding inside away from humanity isn't healthy. and i won't meet anyone on my couch. and i need adult interaction that doesn't involve kid sports or work topics.

i know i need to go out. but IT'S SO HARD to go.

here's what last night was like in my brain:

3:30, work: you should go out tonight. you have money in the bank for once. go out. have a drink. today calls for a celebration of sorts. things turned out ok (for now) with the teenager, so go, have a drink, let go of some of the stress. you can go home, make dinner for the kiddo, then go out and have a drink or two. solid plan. you can do this.

4:30, home: ugh. dishes. fridge is empty. what did i have planned for dinner? i can't remember. oh hey look, couch. the kid is watching a show that doesn't totally annoy me. i'll watch an episode with him and then we'll figure out dinner, then you can go out for a drink.

7:00, home: oh fuck. we really need to figure out dinner. ugh. maybe we'll just drive thru some where and then i can stop and get a bottle of sailor jerry and have a drink at home. cheaper than going to a bar, right? but i won't talk to anyone if i stay home. and i never actually finish a drink if i stay home. but it's thursday night. the bars will be busy. i hate it when the bar is full. and which bar would i go to anyway. this is such a pain. i know i need to go out but it sounds like a lot of work. but having a drink at home won't work either. holy fuck. why is something this simple this hard to decide. wait, still need to figure out dinner first. damn it. this is fucking exhausting. maybe i'll just stay home and go to bed early. no drink at all. BUT YOU NEED TO BE OUT AROUND PEOPLE. you know you're getting depressed. don't let yourself sit home and wallow. FOOD. FIGURE OUT FOOD FIRST ASSHOLE. YOUR KID IS HUNGRY.

7:30, jack in the box drive thru: gross. i don't want to eat this crap. even their salad looks gross. i'll just order something for the kid and then eat left overs at home. or i could go out and eat somewhere. but what even sounds good. everything is getting ready to close. and the bars will be busy. maybe i'm not that hungry. but you need to eat. at least something. you need to put food in your body. order for the kid, we'll figure out the rest later.

7:50, home: oh. my. god. my kid is disgusting. if i have to watch him shove another bit in his mouth and try to wash it down without chewing one more time i'm going to snap. YOU NEED TO GET OUT OF THE HOUSE ASSHOLE. quit snapping over stupid stuff and just go some where. relax. unwind. BUT WHERE DO I GO?? i could go have tacos at that one bar. NO YOU CAN'T you flirted with the bartender and now you can never go there again. BUT THEY HAVE CHEESECAKE. you can't go there, you will look like a stalker idiot. that place is off the list for sure. besides, it's super popular and they'll be packed. MAYBE I CAN JUST DRIVE BY... no. off the list. pick something else. what about that tavern you like? it's super chill and shouldn't be too packed. but they don't have food. popcorn and beer = drunk. you don't want to be a drunk idiot on a thursday night. you have to work tomorrow. what about the bar by browne's addition? they have really good food and you haven't made yourself look like an idiot there yet. but that's so far away. hmm. is there anything up north? not really. just stay home. there's a beer in the fridge. you can have one beer and go to bed early. OH MY GOD THE FOOD SHOVING IN THE FACE. ok. you need to get out of here. HOW ABOUT THIS. just leave the house. your order should be in at the mall, you can pick that up, get a quick manicure, then decide where to get food. just get out of the house. just out. it's a start. we'll sort out the rest later.

8:30, the mall: ok. you did it. you're out of the house. you picked up your order. NOW MAKE SURE YOU WEAR THE CLOTHES YOU BOUGHT YOU DOPE. cute boot socks don't look cute in a drawer. just wear the dress you planned with the boots and the cute socks. you'll be fine. and you got your nails done. see. the outside isn't such a bad place. the mall is nice and quiet. now food. you're starving. you need food. NO, you can't get drive thru and go home. you're out, stay out. ok...well, maybe that bartender isn't working and you can get chips and guac and cheesecake. it will still be busy, maybe just a drive by and see how packed it is. but chips and guac aren't going to fill you up, you need food. REAL FOOD. it's not that late. go to the bar in brownes addition. you like it there. they have good food. you can sit at the bar and blend in. you will be fine, i promise. i know it's out of the way, but you'll be fine. what's an extra mile. it's really not that far. not like driving out to the valley or the south hill. it's still downtown-ish. just go. they have a taco salad there. that sounds good. and they have liquor. sailor jerry is calling your name. and pretzel bites. yes. they have good food and you can blend in there and no one will know you. just drive there. don't worry about driving by the other place. you know it will be busy and you'll just feel awkward even driving by. just go to browne's addition. this isn't that hard. just go. you can park there, parking is free after 7. JUST GO. FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT'S HOLY WOMAN, JUST GO THERE ALREADY.

and i went. and it was delightful. and i even chatted with a few people. and the bartender was adorable and she introduced me to sailor jerry and redbull which was delicious. and the thai chicken pizza was great and the pretzels were fucking delicious. and i did it. all the debate and the back and forth and the yelling at myself and trying to talk myself out of it. I DID IT.

and i'll keep pushing myself to do it. i'm sure it will be the same argument to some level each time. but i know it's necessary. there's other walls to stare at besides my own. there's other people to talk to besides myself. there's a whole big world out there. and i'm terrified of it. but not all of it is scary.

the story of asshats and fish...

so. here it is, 2 am, my sleep schedule is completely FUCKED at this point (since when does a 1 hour nap at 2 in the afternoon keep you up all night?). it sounds like the perfect time to catch you up on a few of the promises i’ve made but haven’t kept...what better place to start than dating horror stories?

all for you darlings. ALL FOR YOU.

harland williams:

i started this story the night it happened, FIFTY SIX DAYS AGO. jaysus, how have you guys not beaten me for my slacking on writing?

harland williams- it wasn’t actually HIM, but i swear it could have been his identical twin. i was at my fav bar for my usual wednesday night band support and even though the WHOLE BAR was empty, this jackass had to sit next to me and start being the typical out of town business man looking to get laid. his friend was kinda cute/nice but this guy...holy hell.

so he’s hitting on me, doing something that we’ll call flirting, trying to buy me drinks (no go- i’m odd like that- i’ll buy my own, thank you very much). this guy is laying it on, i’m being a bitch, he’s not getting the picture. at one point he flat out said: “i’m horny. i could either go to the strip club and back to my motel room and jack off, or you could save me the time and money and just go back with me now.” gee. how can a girl resist such an offer? he’s laying it on, trying to tell jokes, trying to impress me, telling me about his big shot job (hey BANK OF AMERICA...your asshole employees are GREAT company representatives in public...AWESOME). he is just not taking a hint. i’m flat out making fun of him, not holding back on the bitchy comments, making fun of his company and he finally gets pissed off and says “FINE. I FUCKING GIVE UP.” and then exits stage left to the bathroom. i let out a sigh of relief, the adorable bartender looks over and asks if i shot him down to which i said “he finally gave up.” jackass comes back from the bathroom, sits down, and STARTS ALL OVER AGAIN. i literally looked straight at him and said: “since when does giving up mean doubling your efforts?” the jack ass STILL kept trying.

when you make the bartender laugh it’s a good night. he laughed a LOT that night. i decided that since the jackass wasn’t giving up i was going to be a true bitch and have a little fun with it. harland williams ended up staying til closing, racking up a good tab, and tipping well in effort to try to impress me. when he FINALLY left (alone), the bartender asked why i convinced the jackass to stick around instead of letting him heading off to a club or back to his motel. my answer: “well, he can go to a club and spend his money there or stay here, run up a tab, leave a good sized tip, and provide us entertainment. this way the bar got more money, you got a good tip, and i got to make fun of someone all night. win-win-win.”  i take care of my bartender.  he puts up with my obnoxious self inappropriately hitting on him every wednesday. getting him good tips is the least i can do.

i WILL admit to feeling guilty the next day about being such a bitch. i ended up emailing harland williams (at his work email since the asshole gave me his card) to apologize. i don’t do bitch well.

the silent guy:

this, as the best are, is a plenty of fish story. this guy seemed normal at first. we emailed for a while, he seemed smart, had some good jokes, somewhat decent conversation. i will admit that he seemed like he might actually have the potential of a non-train wreck date. i should know better. he wants to get together for lunch but doesn’t let me know until 2 pm. i suggest drinks and we agree to meet for cheesecake/drinks downtown that night at 9. i get there right at 9 and i sit at a table alone and wait. and wait. and wait. and since i’m waiting, i go ahead and order a drink. if nothing else i’m totes comfortable sitting at a table out alone any day of the week, so it doesn’t bother me too much that it’s looking like a no show.

oh, how i wish that’s how the story ended. the guy shows up TWENTY MINUTES LATE. awesome start. he introduces himself then he sits down on the bench NEXT TO ME. umm...how the hell are we supposed to talk? not only that, he shows up and crappy jeans, a faded out untucked button up shirt, SLOUCHES on the bench next to me and looks like he hasn’t combed his hair in a few days. awesome first impression. so he’s just sitting there. and sitting there. the waiter comes over and asks if he’d like a drink and he just sticks with water. what’s the point of meeting for drinks if you don’t drink? we could have met for coffee or ice cream or a million other things. so we sit there awkwardly.

i try to ask a few questions, start a conversation which is DAMN hard when the person is sitting next to you. all i get back are 1-2 word answers and nothing else. spiffy. in the middle of it my son calls to check in on me and a darling friend calls to see if i need rescued. i’m trying to stick it out. FULL EFFORT. it’s just awkward and quiet and strange. fuck it. i finish my drink and tell him it’s time for me to jet. i go up to pay the bill and the waiter looks at me a little strange, asks how it went and all i can say is “get me the hell out of here.” the waiter cracked up and handed me my tab. kinda pointless at that stage of the game, but i went out the BACK door and hauled ass out of there. the guy actually emailed me the next day to argue something i had tried to start a conversation about (yes, there really is an organization called the IAVA- iraq and afghanistan veterans of america. look it up. support them.) nothing about how it went, no awkward attempt to make it better, nothing. just an argument. winner.

fister guy:

the answer is in the name. do i even need to tell this one? FINE. ok. another plenty of fish guy- go figure. this guy is a little off from the start. high strung, PTSD from one too many trips to the sandbox. he likes telling me about how he loves to be violent, play rugby, hit people...AWESOME. sign me the eff up. i’m trying to carefully let this one go. i try ignoring emails, phone calls, i remove him from chat (and block him). i was able to put him off for a while, but he was damn persistent. so. one day we’re talking on the phone...keep in mind i haven’t actually MET this guy in person yet. just chatted. we’re talking along, his questions are starting to get a little uncomfortable.

(yes, it was as awkward as me putting a kitty picture in my blog)

*NOTE: while i may be a trashy little trollop in life i TRY to appear a little more mellow and reserved when first meeting/talking to potential dates. i try like hell to keep any sex talk out of it for as long as possible. i know...doesn’t seem like me but there it is.*

so. the guy is talking along, questions are getting a little risque, i’m trying my best to avoid or give half answers then the BIG question hits: what are you into sexually?

*sigh* great. excellent question to get from someone you haven’t even met yet. so i try to brush it off: “oh, you know, mostly typical stuff, nothing to out there.”

all’s well and good, right?

his response: “i like fisting and rough sex.”

ummm...

fisting?

is that really even a thing?

don’t bother checking youporn. it IS and you don’t want to see that.

who the hell drops FISTING? to someone you’ve never even met? isn’t that something that if you’re into it you date someone for a while, get to know them, sleep with them, one day, a few years into things, maybe suggest some new porn, wait for their reaction, see where it goes from there?

YOU DON’T JUST DROP FISTING ON SOMEONE. in any way shape or form.

confession: while i avoided this guy like the plague after that i DID agree to go out with him on bin laden day. i mean, he did several tours in OIF/OEF and deserved to celebrate, you know? do what i can to support the troops. and NO, i didn’t see if he was serious about being into that.

and the saddest story for last, the one where i find out i have ZERO gaydar. did your heart just break a little too? so depressing.

i was invited to a masquerade ball for autism a while ago. an actual BALL. big gowns, masques, ALL OF IT. so i decide to go, get the dress, do the hair, nails, ALL OF IT. i hand made the masques even (they were AWESOME if i do say so myself- take a look:)

i ask an adorable young guy to be my escort for the evening, make a masque for him, rent the tux, the whole shebang. we looked ADORABLE together. so much fun. at the last minute my darling gay friends decided to attend the ball as well. this is VERY important. at the end of the evening my date isn’t feeling well and decides to leave. i’m a touch disappointed because he is delicious (although he was NINE when i was giving birth. creepy cougar much?). he leaves and my darling gays decide to let me in on something: he’s playing for THEIR team. if it had been any other friends i would have called bullshit, but i have a feeling their gaydar is pretty well tuned. insult to injury? another friend who was there came over to chat a bit and she ALSO had the gardar going off full force about my date. me? i had NOTHING. i turns out i have NO, ZERO, NONE, NOTHING when it comes to gaydars. i feel defective. like i should be on the reject clearance rack at the back of the idaho walmart. so depressing. i would like to point out that there is not actual evidence of my date being gay, but how can you question SEVERAL people with proper working gardars? *sigh*

so. that’s all of them lately. there was one guy at the bar that did a drive by “i just wanted to let you know you’re nine different kinds of fine.” but not much more than that. things are depressingly quiet on the dating front.

i still can’t believe i slacked for FIFTY SIX DAYS. i really AM a professional slacker. damn.

is there such a thing as TMI?

there’s not even a good title for this one. i would call it a TMI post, but this goes WAY BEYOND even a TMI. i will throw a warning up here: PLEASE, for your own safety, PLEASE do not consume hot beverages while reading this posting. also: please make sure you pee before reading as i will not be held responsible for any wayward puddles that may result.

oh lordy.

you’ve been warned. and i’ll warn you a few more times: i’m EMBARRASSED. and for _ME_ to say that…

let’s just say THANK HEAVENS there are no cameras allowed in bathroom stalls.

scared yet?

ok…i told you there would be a few more warnings: here’s one: TMI AHEAD. STOP READING NOW IF YOU ARE FAINT OF HEART.

confession: i like to have sex. i happen to have a boyfriend currently who also enjoys the same activity. last night we happened to enjoy the activity together.

still hanging in there? i know…that wasn’t TOO much of a shocker, but sometimes there’s things you like to pretend you never know…that may have been one of them.

another warning: EVEN MORE TMI AHEAD. again, if that last one set you on edge, you should REALLY stop reading now.

confession: during said sexual activity, sometimes additional *cough* items are introduced. like…say…vibrators. like small bullet vibrators. like small bullet vibrators that are *cough* inserted (more for his pleasure than mine).

just to be clear: small bullet vibrators inserted into _ME_ (not him) for his additional sexual pleasure.

still hanging in there?

oh crap. ok. if you made it through that…

so. last night happened to be one of those nights where fun was had and toys were brought out and enjoyed. yes, on a tuesday. we’re rebels like that. so. if you happen to know anything about the female anatomy, you know that after a good orgasm, certain muscles tighten up. this can, at times, make toy retrieval particularly difficult. especially when the boyfriend grabs the smaller of the two bullets for play time. there’s a reason there are TWO of them, they each have their own purpose. small ones are NOT intended to go inside. and these bullets happen to be wireless. and loopless. so. you know. you have to have a BIT of know-how to recover them. well. last night between the particularly good muscle tightening and the inadvertent use of the smaller toy, things got a little *cough* stuck. so. yeah. no amount of coaxing, muscle work, anything was helping. the only thing to resort to was a bit of yoga breathing, waiting for the muscles to relax, and then trying again.

well, here’s the thing about yoga breathing. it’s really calming. like…i don’t know…make you fall asleep calming.

and here’s the thing about sleep: it tends to make you forget things. like. i don’t know…certain search and rescue missions that were supposed to be on the schedule.

*cough*

so.

um.

i was reminded today. this afternoon actually. *cough* at work. umm…yeah…

turns out if you forget to do a search and rescue, it will eventually rescue itself.

*cough*

so. you know. umm…i’m “in the library” at work, the think tank, the power room, the loo…going about my business and suddenly i’m not so gently reminded of what i was supposed to do last night.

by a splash.

-sigh-

how’s that TMI thing working for you right about now?

so.

you can’t make this shit up.

there may or may not have been a fishing expedition that happened instead of a search and rescue mission.

YOU CAN’T FLUSH A SEX TOY DOWN THE WORK TOILET. i mean REALLY? my luck it would be the final straw on the camel’s back that screws up the whole work plumbing situation and causes every pipe in the building to burst and one little tiny silver bullet to go shooting through the air stabbing some unsuspecting person IN THE EYE and making them wear a patch and be a pirate for the rest of their life and making EVERYONE in the place turn and look at the girl with blue hair and tattoos because OBVIOUSLY she would be the person that would cause something like this and then EVERYONE WOULD KNOW and then i would get the nickname vampire killer (silver bullet, get it?) and would forever be branded at work. and while it _MAY_ initially improve my dating life (well, except for the whole already having a boyfriend that cause dthis whole mess thing) it would eventually just make people start avoiding my desk and looking at me strange and making sure i ALWAYS had hand sanitizer on my desk (if you were curious, washed my hands approx 4 times with DOUBLE soap and used half a bottle of purell).

long story short: i need to start doing more kegel exercises.