Hump Day Happy Hour and The Girl on our Couch

So I’m putting a kibosh to the poetry.  Apparently it was boring to everyone besides myself.  But for the record, the last one was about a PENIS.  So how about you just go back and read it again with THAT in mind, and then tell me it’s not really funny.

Anyway, I’m driving around today, as any other day, and I decided I was in the mood to be social tonight.  More specifically, I was in the mood to go out… with girls… and only girls… and get hit on by men.  I knew Carissa had class at 6:30pm, so she wouldn’t be down for happy hour.  I texted V, my only other single friend, and shared my thoughts.  She didn’t answer.

Let’s rewind here for a minute.  I live in a house with two other girls.  V & T.  They’re both amazing and fun and we all mesh really well.  What I haven’t mentioned yet, is that for the past couple of weeks we have had another girl living on our couch Mondays through Thursdays.  Not our main living room couch… we have another large room, a step down from our main floor, with a huge wrap around couch.  It’s a room nobody ever goes into… a den, if you will… and now there’s a random girl living there.  Well, she was random.  A friend of a friend asked V if someone could rent out our couch for a few weeks while she was in town on business.  We’re all the types that don’t really care… as long as the girl wasn’t going to murder us or do anything weird, so we agreed.  At first, I thought the girl probably WOULD murder us, but after a few days, I realized she was not only harmless, but actually very entertaining… and now even my Facebook friend… which is big moves.  In any case, she’s barely around, and sort of stealth-like, in the way that I don’t usually know that she’s home unless she purposely makes herself known.

So I get home from work today to what I thought was an empty house, until I hear Erin yell, “hello!” from her secret room.  I yelled “hello!” back, and continued on with my business.  Carissa called while I was sitting on the couch, and I started explaining how I’d like to go out and socialize and have men hit on me, but V never answered and that I knew that Carissa had to go to class.

“I’ll drive you out, and watch you drink beer ’til I have to leave?”  she offered.   What a good sister.  I passed on that offer.  Then I hear a shout from the secret room downstairs,

“I’LL GO TO HAPPY HOUR!”

The girl on the couch emerged.  “Ok!” I shout back.

Two minutes later, V responds and says she’s down for HH as well.  I texted T and Brie also, but they were both busy.  2.5 happy hour friends.  Good.  Carissa says she’ll be over in a few to get us, so Erin and I quickly get ready, and I attempt to make myself look at least somewhat cute since my main goal for the evening is to socialize with the opposite sex and get hit on (you’d think, being single, this would usually be my goal, but I get so caught up with who I’m out with, that I tend to forget to look around).

We go out to PB Cantina, where they have a 2-for-one special, and fall into the usual pattern of talking each other’s ears off and not really looking around.  Carissa’s sipping water, and in my opinion, not looking that cute.  I mean she’s cute, whatever… but she didn’t look THAT cute.  Anyway, after about 45 minutes she gets up and says she has to head out to her class.  We all say goodbye and she leaves.

A couple of minutes later, some guy walks up to our table, and comes straight up to me.

“Oh great,” I’m thinking… “this guy’s about to hit on me and he’s not even that attractive… ugh…”

He starts out with: “I’m really sorry if this is weird, but…”

[In my head:  “Herreeee we go…. let’s get on with it…. hit on me, why don’t ya?”]

He continues… “Well … My name is Darl.”

“DARL?…. Like with an ‘L’ at the end?”

“Yes.”

“Ok…. Hi Darl…”

“Your friend that just left… I’m kinda really into her… Is she going to be coming back?”

WTF!!!!!  Are you KIDDING me right now???

I ask him, “How old are you?”

“32.”

“Well she’s not my friend, she’s my sister… and you’re too old for her… and no, she’s not coming back.  But I will certainly let her know, and I’m sure she will be very flattered.”

He just stands there and stares at me with sad puppy dog eyes.  And the girls stare at him.  And then he finally looks down, defeated, and walks away.

V goes, “WHY DOES THAT ALWAYS HAPPEN TO CARISSA????  Everyone says we look alike but nobody EVER hits on ME!!!”

I’m mad.  “I WAS THE ONE THAT CAME HERE TO GET HIT ON!!!!  I’m mad.  And offended.  This is not fair.”  I’m probably pouting at this point.

V says, “She’s young and fresh.”

Ugh.  So annoying.  That damn Carissa.  Can’t bring her anywhere.  So the night continues.  And it turns out that the girl on the couch,  [Erin], although 31 and also single, has never heard of Tinder… wait… WHAT?!  V and I make her download the app, and give her a quick tutorial.  In no time at all, she’s swiping away and completely enthralled.  She had several matches right off the bat, and in about 5 minutes, got her first message.

She freaked a little, and didn’t know what to say, so I took her phone out of her hand and responded to the sexual man who told her she was beautiful.  It was a group effort, and within 20 minutes we made her plans to meet a 26-year-old down at the beach.  V had her car, so we told her we’d drop her off.

On the way, we stopped at a liquor store so she could pick up a bottle of twist off wine to bring with her.  V and I sat in the car… all of a sudden I said,

“We created a monster…. is this a bad idea?”

V says, “Maybe?  Are we horrible people?”

“I think we are.”

Erin gets back in the car and says, “The guy in there tried to rip me off, but luckily I speak Arabic, so I got my money back.”

“You speak ARABIC??”

“Well, not real Arabic… I only know how to say ‘I’m from the streets.'”

Oh… well in that case….

So we drive her down to the end of the road.  We don’t see the guy, so we get out of the car and look down below at the sand.  There’s some kind of scrimmage going on in the dark.

beach

Then we see him as he walks towards us.  Erin says, “Oh, are you who I’m meeting?”

I immediately get my phone out and start taking pictures of him, because now I’m convinced he’s just going to take her down to the beach and murder her.

I go up and give him a hug and then ask, “Are you going to kill her?”

He responds with, “Well…. it is a full-moon tonight, so you never know.”

Apparently that was a good enough answer for me?  We said goodbye and left her there.  I felt ok, because I got a full-on shot of his face, flash on and all.  Now V and I are driving home and I say, “Did we just drop Erin off to get murdered?”

V says, AGAIN… “I think we are horrible people.”

We get home and text her.  She says she’s still alive, and that the guy speaks Spanish.  So I guess that’s a plus?  At least she’s still alive.  Are we horrible people??  Maybe.  Fingers crossed she makes it back to the couch in one piece….

xoxo

Gossip Girl

JR = Done… & Poems for Christian

JR went back to Amsterdam and forgot about me… on purpose.  What?!  You ask?  I asked the same thing.

He went from: “all up my ass,” if you will… to silence.  Knowing me, you’d know I don’t just take hints.  I need to GET TO THE BOTTOM OF IT.  So of course, after a week of radio silence, I straight out asked him what the H was going on.  He informed me that he stopped talking to me on purpose, because he wanted to see how he would feel without talking to me, to figure out if we were right for each other.

Well first of all, WTF, dude.  We’ve known each other for like 3 weeks.  Do you think you’re going to cry yourself to sleep every night in the absence of talking to me?  I don’t really think it works that way.  And secondly, that’s just RUDE.  If you decide you want to not speak to someone you’ve been seeing regularly, to see how you’re feeling, it would probably be the nice thing to do to INFORM ME beforehand that this is the tactic you’re taking, without me having to flat-out ask.

In any case, I let that whole thing linger for a couple of days because I was in Philly taking part in the wedding weekend extravaganza of the year and ain’t nobody got time fo’ that.   He could sit around and ponder all he wanted.

Then I got back to San Diego, and was like, that’s just absolutely ridiculous.  When you first meet someone you should WANT to talk to them, if it’s ever going to go anywhere…and THIS is the problem with online dating.  It’s all so backwards.  You question everything right off the bat, instead of trying to pursue each other because you LIKE each other.

So I wrote him a nice long message telling him basically that I’d make the decision easier for everyone, and say we’re probably not right for each other, so stop your long hard thinking, and we will both move on.  I ALSO told him, that he is approaching finding a wife like a business deal, and he needs to stop over-analyzing and just relax and let things happen if he ever wants to be in a real relationship.  I told him what he was doing was exhausting and backwards, and off-putting.  I also told him his tactic of ignoring me instead of communicating what he was doing was a dick move.  He agreed on all accounts.  So to make this extremely long story short (or is it too late for that?)… ON TO THE NEXT ONE.

Which was last night, and so boring and awful that I’m not even going to talk about him.

Also, I woke up this morning and wrote that Tinder guy a weird poem that didn’t make any sense:

Questions still hanging, blowing in the air
Running, ducking, crouching behind the tree
The old woman still breathes,
The children outside shout with glee
The cat purrs in rhythm with the ticking
Of the old mans pocket watch
As he watches his wife struggle for air
The trees have turned red, and orange and brown
Burnt colors of autumn, but the man just stares
At the memory of a woman once filled with joy
She now has not even a tear
The cat shuts his eyes, thinks of the boy
Who once kept the woman laughing in the chair
No laughter, no more
The pocket watch ticks and ticks and ticks

Instead of him responding to my poem with another poem, he wrote:

“Not sure what this is about, but I like the poem.”

I then responded:  ” You’re supposed to reply with one.  Isn’t that how this works?”

Then I got this:

“Is what we do normal
is it so informal
That in my life
I go unrecognized
By the sounds of vally
I here now testify
That I will not live a lie
Fear will never draw me shy
It’s going to be alright
Give it everything, fight.
Sing to to highlands
Dance to seasons
Show your passions
Lay your foundation
Bring our town
To a new recognition
Sing to the highlands
Dance to the seasons
Give me me 4 reasons to sing this song”

 

 

and…. “I wrote this for my buddies band. “
Well that’s not really fair.  I wrote mine on the fly.  But whatever.  Then he wrote:
“It’s been a lil while since we spoke. Sorry. I’m totally
game to pursue what I said before. Thanks for the very nice poem. Ill
keep sending more. Looking forward to this :)”
I started out on the conservative side I guess.  I also don’t know how to write poems.   So he doesn’t think I’m weird yet?  Maybe I’ll stick to short stories…  I think that was one of the options he gave me in his last message….
I suppose I should wrap this up.  It’s almost time to start my trek down to Mexico.  Well, the border.  Ugh.  It’s so HOT there.  Catch ya on the flip side 😉
xoxo Gossip Girl

JR is Back (Kinda)… and a Day in the Desert

JR finally got back from Amsterdam after his 2-week work trip on Friday evening.  He asked me to go out with him that night, because he would be out-of-town Saturday and Sunday, but I already had plans with friends, so I told him he was welcome to join.

I don’t know how he did it, with a 9-hour time difference from Amsterdam to California, but he got off the plane, showered, and actually made it out.  And he was pretty fun too.  He’s the whitest of white boys, Irish as they come, but thinks he has dance moves.  No.

The night was fun.  He has been non-stop talking about Lobster Taco Night at some joint ’round here on Wednesday nights, so I guess we made tentative plans to go tonight.  I don’t consider things plans unless they’re set in stone, and even though he reminded me yesterday, there has been no time or location set, so as far as I’m concerned, I still don’t have plans tonight.

As far as his job goes, he explained he usually has about two weeks here in San Diego, then two weeks away, which he claims is ruining his life and is the reason he’s single.  That’s yet to be seen; I’m sure there are plenty of other reasons he’s single.  So I was thinking over the next two weeks when he’s home, I’ll probably see him a couple of times, figure out if it’s worth continuing to get to know each other.  But doesn’t seem it’s going to go that way… he texted me yesterday with a couple of curse words followed by:  “I just found out I need to go back to the Netherlands on Sunday for another two weeks, then straight to Dallas for 2 days when I get back.”

Wait WHAT?!  This is just getting obnoxious.  He’s pissed and ready to quit, but due to some other details, he’s biting his tongue and waiting until after September 30th.  I told him he should just move to Amsterdam (was that rude?).  He said they’ve been trying to get him there, and even told him they’ll have a 3-series convertible waiting for him if he goes for good (whatever that is).

I feel like he should just wait until he starts a more normal job before he tries to date for real.  He’s made it clear he wants a serious relationship, and is at the point in his life where he is ready to settle down, but I don’t know how he expects to get to know someone when his job requires like 90% travel.  I guess that’s for him to figure out.  Not me.

So anyway…

Monday night I’m sitting on the couch with my roommate V…. our couch is located 10 blocks from the Pacific Ocean.  I’m going through my work calendar and complaining….

“Ugh, I have to go to Rancho Mirage tomorrow… that’s like 3 hours away….”

V goes… “Oh… where is that?  West?”

I think for a few seconds longer than I should have, look at her a little funny and say…. “No… East.”

“Oh… yeah… I guess that woulda meant it was in the ocean.”

I kind of just wish I had a recorder on whenever V is around… she definitely keeps me laughing (and scratching my head).

So I had A LOOTTTTTT of flippin’ time in the car yesterday.  This is time I use productively to sing and dance and make up fake scenarios in my head with a British accent.  I drove 3 hours just to be a caterer, carry pizzas and salad through the parking lot in 116 degree heat (this is not an exaggeration; I was in the desert), and then wait TWO HOURS to speak with a doctor who gave me TWO MINUTES of his time.  And I had to be nice to people the entire time.

I make a couple of more stops in the desert before I decide its time to start the drive home.  Wouldn’t ya know it?  I get on the freeway and after a couple of miles, traffic STOPS.  Why is traffic STOPPED in the middle of no where?  Oh probably because it drizzled for about 30 seconds and the desert folk got freaked out and ran into a pole.  So I start noticing people in front of me getting in the shoulder of the road and BACKING UP…. they’re all backing up onto the oncoming ramp.  I’m confused.  More and more people start doing this from further ahead.  I’m just approaching the end of the ramp and wondering if I should do it too.  People in this state are SO WEIRD.

I opened my window to try to ask someone why we were all backing up to go the wrong way onto a one way ramp, but he didn’t stop to answer me, so I figured, ok, well if everyone else is doing it, I’ll do it too.

Traffic

After I got off, I didn’t know where I was going.  There were just mountains and sand everywhere.  I started following a couple of cars down a narrow road, and after about a half a mile, I reached the end of the road, which was a patch of sand with a dead-end sign.  If it were any darker, I would have thought I was going to be murdered.  I was literally in the middle of the desert.

DEAD END

 

I turned around and got on another road… which eventually lead back onto the non-moving freeway.  And I was still 2 hours and 47 minutes from home.  F…M…L….

I had all intentions of joining a hot yoga studio this week.   In recent weeks my exercise has consisted of:

-Riding my bike to the beach

-Digging a hole for my butt to fit into at the beach

-Lifting a pint of beer from the bar to my mouth

By this point of the evening, there was no way I was getting back in time for a yoga class, and between the traffic and being nice to people I didn’t feel like being nice to all day, I was much less interested in stretching and breathing as I was interested in kicking and punching… so I sought out the closest LA Fitness with a kickboxing class, and hauled ass to make it in time.

I pulled my usual quick-change act in the car in order to save time in the locker room, and was fortunate to get an instructor who encouraged YELLING while kicking and punching.  Perfect.

I left in a much better mood and only had an hour and 45 minutes left to drive.

Thank goodness my day is contained in San Diego today… don’t think I could handle a back-to-back desert day.  DesSert… maybe… mmmm…. dessert.

Tata for now…

xoxo Gossip Girl

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yachts and A(nother) First Date…

I wish every day could be the weekend.  Specifically last weekend.  I attended the Cubs/Padres game with my sister and roommates on Friday night, followed by a trip to our favorite local dive bar in PB, The Silver Fox, where I dropped my phone in the toilet.  I quickly plucked it out, and it actually survived, which was surprising.  I met ANOTHER Jew at the bar who wanted to take me out, but lives in northern California or something?  And was just here staying for work?  And he wanted me to come up to wine country to meet him?  Or some other ridiculous request?  Okay, I’m done with the question marks.  That’s just to signify “this is kinda weird because I just met you 10 minutes ago at a dive bar.”

Saturday can be summarized in a short, all-inclusive video that one of the guys made:

Yachting!!

That was an amazing day with some awesome people.  Annndddd… my phone fell in the toilet AGAIN.  This time, I stuck a fork in it; it was done.  What did people do without technology?  Less than 24 hours later I was back up and running with a new (old) iPhone, and had 21 messages from people wondering where I was.  Granted, 17 of them were from the same person… but still.  Now this old phone won’t let me download Tinder, which poses a problem for so many reasons.

1.  I get bored at work

2.  I feel stranded… what if hot men are messaging me and I can’t see them

3.  I get bored at work

4.  I can’t refresh my facts.

Refreshing facts are important.  All of the information for the guys is in that little app…. their age…. their initial messages introducing themselves (location, jobs, etc).  So although I already had a phone number and a date set up with one of them, I couldn’t go back to the app to refresh my facts beforehand.  #firstworldproblems.

So this guy I was going to go out with was apparently a Tinder newbie.  We exchanged numbers and texted a bit… then on Sunday as I was organizing my room, and we were having a normal text conversation, my phone rings.  Errrr… it’s him.  Calling me.  I answer.

“Hey… it’s D.”

“Uhhh…. hi?”

Why is he calling me?  This is weird.  He said wanted to CALL so it would be more normal (less awkward) when we met.  I told him the phone call was way more awkward.  But he kept talking anyway.  And when I told him I was organizing my dresser drawers, he made the mistake of asking me how I was organizing them, so I continued on, detailing which articles of clothing were in which drawers for the next 5 minutes.  By the time we got off the phone 15 minutes later, he admitted that he regretted asking that question.  I was hoping he regretted CALLING me too.  I hate talking on the phone.  Especially to people I don’t know.

So I’m sitting on my sister’s balcony drinking a glass of wine on Monday, and texted him asking what time we were going to meet the next night.  Instead of just answering my simple question, he immediately CALLS me.  I answer:

“Oh, so you’re going for a second phone call??”

“I just thought it was the nicer thing to do.”

Ugh.  I tell him my sister comes on all of my dates, so that she’d be picking me up.  He says, “Oh, okay.  Is she coming out with us for the whole time?”

“No, just at the end.  To look at you.”  (But he’d be ok with her coming out with us for the whole time?  Hahahahaha…)

“Oh, I get it… so she can judge.”

“Exactly.”

“Ok, that’s cool.”

So we made a plan.  The following night I took public transportation from Pacific Beach to downtown San Diego where he lives.  It’s not far.  It’s like a 15 minute drive.  But I just didn’t want to have to deal with having a car in a city.

Bus:  $2.25

Trolley from bus:  $2.50

Look on my date’s face when I told him I took public transportation:  Priceless.

I don’t get it.  I really don’t understand why no one takes advantage of the public transportation here.  It’s so easy!  And so fast.  And so fun.  But anyway… I met him outside of his fancy condo complex.  There were waterfalls and everything.  Fancy.  We walked to a place called Vin de Syrah.  Fancy.  It was kinda underground with an Alice in Wonderland theme going on.  The door to get in was hidden & covered in grass, and there was a decoy door to trick people.  There was also a hidden camera which was linked to a TV inside so everyone could laugh at people trying to get in.  Thankfully, my roommate, T had been to this place before, so she warned me beforehand about the secret door.  I think my date was really disappointed that I didn’t look like a fool… because he had no intentions of directing me to the real door.

The inside was cool.  There was grass and plants on the walls, and playing cards on the ceiling.  So we sat down at the bar, except they weren’t bar stools.  It was like a two person cushioned bench.  So because I’m such a prude, I put my purse in between us so we wouldn’t awkwardly brush up against each other.   I’m so freakin’ awkward.

So conversation was going well… we were laughing and chatting, and it was natural.  Until it somehow came up in conversation that he has asthma.  I really, truly don’t know why, but I made some kind of awful looking face and was like, “you have asthma??”

He was confused by my reaction… and explained it was very mild asthma.  I asked if he had an inhaler and he said no.  Then he asked if that really bothered me and I just burst out laughing, because I realized how ridiculous I was acting.  He goes,

“You should have seen your face.  It was a look of disgust I’ve never seen before.  I was half expecting you to get up and run out of here.”

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I did that.  I have nothing against asthma, I swear.”

“I was preparing for my buddies to ask how it went and I’d have to tell them, ‘I thought it was going well until I told her I had asthma and she just ran out.'”

Whoops.

After a drink, we went to another place for one more, which was more my scene… a bit more casual and pubby.  That’s where Carissa met us to come pick me up.  To be honest, I definitely could have stayed out with him for longer.  We were just getting into the meat of some good conversation.  But it was probably a perfect length of time… enough to get a feel for each other’s personalities, but leaving enough yet to be known to want to see each other again.

As soon as we dropped him off, Carissa gave her nod of approval with a simple:  “He’s the winner so-far.”

So… we’ll see.

JR is still up the wazoo texting from Amsterdam and comes home on Friday.  I didn’t really follow orders to not see any other guys… so I’m a little bit like “oopsy poopsy, I went on like 8 dates while you were gone.”  But at least he’ll be happy to know the majority of them were horrible.

Over and out for now, my little popsicles.

xoxo

Gossip Girl

Some Random Thursday Notes…

I really hate when guys from Tinder say:  “why the hell are you on Tinder?” implying there must be something very wrong with me that they haven’t yet figured out, which makes me think there must be something very wrong with THEM…

“Why is anyone on Tinder??” is usually my response… which makes them realize they’re on Tinder as well, which is how they started talking to me in the first place.

Guys from OkCupid say “Tinder’s just for hookups…” which is when I say to them, “Some people say the same about OkCupid.”

Guys from match.com say “OkCupid and Tinder are for people who aren’t actually serious about finding someone to date.”

And when I ask why they think that, their response is “because you don’t have to PAY for those sites.”

Oh I’m sorry, I’d feel much more comfortable PAYING MONEY for my next boyfriend.  You’re right.  Let me weed out the dating sites based on how much they cost.

Guys who are on no dating sites at all say, “Why are you on those sites???”

“WHY NOT????” I obviously have not met my future husband at the library or at a bar… so whyyyyy the heck not?

In any case, I must somehow be oozing desperation?  My married co-worker who covers the LA territory texted me yesterday:

A:  “Are u on Facebook?”

Me:  “Yeah I am”

A:  “I was going to show u a buddy’s profile who I think you should meet.  6’5, blonde, athletic…36 or 37… sells advertising for a   reputable magazine… fun dude.”

Me:  “Besides the blonde, sounds good.”

So I checked him out, and gave A the go-ahead to send him my info.  I think he’s a little too good-looking for me.  But A assured me he knows what he’s doing, and he thinks we’d hit it off.  I don’t really mesh well with “pretty-boys” because I feel like they usually want “pretty-girls,” of which I am not.  I’m not the girliest of girls.  And it’s hard for me to pretend I am.  Not that I’d want to pretend I was…but you get the point.

In other news, I pulled up to an office yesterday for work, and put my scrub top on (I wear less clothing to drive between offices).  I got out of my car with my pants still pushed up to my knees like a gangsta, and as I walked towards the door they began to fall into place… one at a time.  So if you want to picture this… bright neon sneakers with a shirt half-on, tank top underneath, and one pant leg rolled up to the knee…with a huge bag over my shoulder.  There was no one around at this time, so I had plenty of time to fix myself before I reached the door.

So I thought…. a dude in a Mariner sitting in the parking lot rolls his window down as I’m walking by his car and shouts out “Hey!  Are you from Jersey?”

I jumped.  I didn’t see him there.  Damn, I need to get my plates changed.  I turn around to his open window.  He’s in blue Boston Scientific scrubs, so I felt immediately comforted.  One of my own.  I haven’t seen any device reps around since I’ve been out here.  Turns out he is originally from Long Island too, only a half an hour from where I grew up.  He moved out to the west coast with another large device company a couple of years ago.  We immediately had a friendly connection; he felt for me being such a newbie here, and he sold a spinal cord stimulator, which is a position I had applied for back east.  So we had a lot of common ground.  We exchanged cards.

I’m wondering if I may have been too friendly, because he has already texted me several times, and actually called me this morning while I was on a conference call.  I thought he’d be a great professional connection to have, but I’m not sure if he is seeing this connection as professional or personal.  And as awesome as he seemed, I’m not really into dating anyone in the same profession.  Sales people are such d-bags.

I guess that’s enough for my long-winded update of the day.  It’s Thursday.  Thank goodness…. I’m thirsty.

xoxo

Gossip Girl

Jake from State Farm [take 2]

If you knew me at all, you’d probably know I don’t usually “just let things go.”  The whole Jake from State Farm not talking to me ever again was bugging me.  Not because I was yearning to see him again, just because I didn’t really understand WHY he wasn’t trying to see me again.  I talked about him at least 3 times a day.  Every day since meeting him.  Each time included a “wtf.”  No one could really give me any clues as to why he might be ignoring me.

On one of our daily post-work road trips to shop for cars, my sister and I were talking.

“I want to ask Jake from State Farm really bluntly… like w…t…f?  But I want an actual answer.  Like a real response.  So I’m not sure how to word this.”

Carissa’s like, “Hmmmm… I don’t really know.”

I’m mulling it over, trying to think of different ways to word it….. Carissa says, “Why don’t you just say wtf?”

“Yeah, I mean, my actual question is, ‘Jake from State Farm…. WHAT THE F***?…. So I might as well just say that.”

I grab my cell, pull up “Jake from State Farm” and text him “wtf”

That’s it.  “wtf”

2 minutes later, a text box pops up.  I’m driving.  Carissa’s using my phone to navigate.

“Jake from State Farm.  He responded.”

“Read it.”

“Hola.”

“WWWWTTTTTFFFFFFF????  Hola???  After 2 weeks…. hola???”

“You kind of deserved that response.”

The conversation was kicked off and JFSF gave me some lame excuse about being out-of-town and then having his dad visit.  I just commended him on his slick “fade out” move and told him I was just taking the moment to call him out.

I still didn’t have closure because he didn’t give me an actual explanation.

Jake from State Farm continued to text yesterday, and asked what I was doing this weekend.  I told him I had no real plans and I was going out in PB if he’d like to join.  He didn’t respond until we were already out, and his response included an invite to hang out at his house, which is on the beach in Mission Beach.  I told him I was already out, and wouldn’t be coming over, but he was welcome to join us in PB.

He said PB “wasn’t in the cards.”

Douche.  My sister and V hate him at this point.  Then he CALLS me.  At the bar.  To tell me he will pay for my cab to come meet him at his beach house.  Ummmm NO.  If you want to see me, you will COME HERE.  He says no.

I’m standing there bitching about him to Carissa and V, when I turn around, and the creeper is standing in the doorway between the bar and the outdoor patio just staring at me.  Ummmm…. Jake?  From State Farm??

He looks like shit.  Excuse my language.  But he looks like absolute shit.  To be more precise, he looks like a lesbian on drugs.

I go over and hug him.  His hair looks like it hasn’t been washed in days, and I’m not sure if his eyes are open or closed.  I guess they were somewhere in between, but more on the side of closed.

He tried to pull me in for some dance moves, which I initially agreed to.

Then my little sister comes over, pulls JFSF aside and says to him forcefully:  “Jake from State Farm, I don’t like you.  I don’t like you at all.”

Ohhhh geez, she’s been hanging out with me wayyyyyy too much lately.  I’m just standing there smirking and enjoying it, because this is not in my sister’s character.  I felt like the roles were reversed.  It’s usually me giving guys the: “I will murder you if you do anything to my sister” lecture.  But Carissa has taken this on in full force.  And I don’t mind.  Because Jake from State Farm needs to take a long walk off a short pier.

We hung out for a little longer.  V says “I don’t like him… at all.”  Brie’s boyfriend Colin says, “Don’t like him.”

We left.  I don’t know what Jake from State Farm did.  I wouldn’t have been surprised if he just passed out where he was standing.  He was so out-there, it was kinda crazy.  He sent several texts, a few last night, and one this morning, to which I did not respond.

Jake from State Farm, you were fun while you lasted, but I’m officially over you.  Peace out, cub scout.

xoxo Gossip Girl

 

Jake from State Farm

I’m sitting in my car in Mexico waiting for Olive Garden to bring food out for a doctor’s office, so I figured I’d start a post.  I might not actually be in Mexico, I don’t know… but there’s border control everywhere and my car thermometer says 119 degrees.  I think they might be looking for my sister’s new Mexican lover, Tonto.

So I’ve only been out in SoCal for two weeks, but I’ve already made some general notes about the men here:

1.  They’re lazy

2.  They don’t care that they’re lazy

3.  The lazier they are, the cooler they think they are

4.  “The waves are totally tubular dudeeeee”

5.  They expect you to go hiking with them

6.  They’re pretty sexual… surfer-sexual

So I’ll start you out here with my first dude story…. There was Jake [from State Farm].  Jake from State Farm somehow matched with me on Tinder at some point when Carissa and I were in the dead middle of the country on our drive out here.  Don’t ask me how, because that game is based upon your proximity to each other.  All I can think of is that he originally swiped right on me (swipe right = “I’m interested”) when I was out visiting San Diego in early July, so I guess he automatically popped up once I started playing the game again during the drive.  He was “surfer sexual.”  Long(ish) wavy hair, an awesome tan, baby blue eyes and some scruff on his chiseled face.  When he messaged me and asked why I was 2000 miles away, I explained, and he told me there would be beers waiting for us at the finish line once we arrived in Pacific Beach.  He conveniently lives in Mission Beach, about a mile away.  Okay… I’ll take it.

We messaged intermittently over the week.  We progressed to texting.  Then when we finally arrived, we were obviously BUSY, but he was persistent in wanting us to cash in on those beers.  Persistent to the point of CALLING me after I told him I was busy car shopping with my sister.  Okok.

So we arrived on a Friday afternoon.  That Sunday was obviously reserved as Funday.  Carissa and I hit up a spot on the beach for beers, and Jake from State Farm said he was going to come meet us.  As we’re sitting there at a table on the deck sharing a pitcher, Carissa burps loudly, as she does, and then looks up and says “Jake?”

I guess she recognized him from the Tinder pictures she saw.  I didn’t know he was going to be there so soon, so I wasn’t even on the lookout.  It was him.  I think the first thing I said to him was “Oh, hi.  I have that same shirt.”

I don’t know why I said that.  It was just a white cotton button down.  I guess I’d categorize it as “classy surfer-casual.”  He looked good.  As good as his photos.  But when he finally took his aviator sunglasses off when sunset hit, he looked even better.  His eyes were super blue and went nicely with his tanned surfer skin and natural dirty blonde highlights.  This, my friends, is usually not my type…. buttttttttt “when in SoCal….”

We started talking.  Soon, my friend Tier, and roommate V came to join us.  Jake from State Farm and I talked a lot about random things, and he admitted he was tracking our journey by clicking on my Tinder page over the past week to see how many miles away we were.  We discussed a book that has a lot of meaning to me, even though I’ve never read it.  I decided he was the sign I needed to allow myself to read it.  Weird?  Yeah… we were sort of on the same weird wavelength.

The sun was down and our group decided to move on to another bar along the boardwalk.  Jake from State Farm very well could have taken this as his cue to say “nice to meet you,” and go on his merry way.  But instead, he suggested another bar that was hopping, and offered me a ride on his beach cruiser.  The group got a head start on foot, and I hopped on the back of his bike, standing on the pegs.  He rode me down the boardwalk, with the night crew partying at the bars to our right, and the calm ocean on our left.

We got to the next place which was a little more rowdy than the daytime beach scene.  When dance music comes on, I like to act like an idiot.  Half to mock the people actually dancing, and half because I start laughing so hard, I can’t stop.  To my surprise, Jake from State Farm shared similar dance moves.  From the moment we started, we were in sync.  Our “moves” just jived perfectly, and we couldn’t have looked like bigger morons.  That was it.  I was in love.

Love… true, true love.  It was the Sunday before my first day of work, so I left to go home before the rest of the crew.  Jake from State Farm left too, but had his bike, so we said goodbye and parted ways as he headed back to Mission Beach and I grabbed a cab back home.  When I got home I sat around for a bit, and V came in soon after.  I told her,

“We’re in love!”

She knew.

I was obviously not being serious…. at all…. but this combination of a common novel, and our off-the-wall dance moves kept me intrigued.  We texted that night, and both admitted we had Facebook stalked each other.  We said we’d love to see each other again soon.

Then…. nothing.

Nothing I tell ya.  Nothing.  One, maybe two random boring texts, with long breaks in between responses over the next two days.  That was it.  Kaput.

Jake from State Farm, W……T…….F?

My sister says, “Get over it, he’s not your type anyway.”

“Maybe not, but I just don’t get it.”

“He’s short.”

“But he’s a good dancer.”

“Neither of you is a good dancer.”

“That’s the point.”

It’s true… he’s not my typical “type…”  But that was kind of also the point.    Two Sundays ago, “surfer-sexual” was my type.  Jake from State Farm… he was my type.  And now…. poof.  Into the wind…. like the cloud of smoke from all the drugs he probably does.  He’s gone.  See you never, my sexual friend.  See you never….

xoxo Gossip Girl

The 4 Month Husband

Although I’ve tried to branch out from blogging about primarily dating stuff, it seems it’s hard to get away from it.  When you’re 30 and single, dating sort of becomes a necessary hobby.  Well, necessary if you ever want to find a significant other before you’re old and wrinkled with 17 cats.

There was one guy I met last October that I never blogged about.  I suppose it was because I thought there might be some potential, and I didn’t want to jinx it.  It was a football Sunday.  I went out to a boozy brunch with my brother, sister-in-law, and friend Meg at our favorite spot, CK 14.  Afterwards, Chase had to leave to catch a flight out of town for work, so the girls continued on, wandering the streets of NYC in our football jerseys (such big sports fans, I know), until we stumbled upon a big, rowdy sports bar.  We made our way through the crowd, found a spot in the back near a TV, got a couple of pitchers, and made some friends.  At one point, Brittany announced:  “I’m going to find you a husband today.”

“No, Britt, please no.  There’s no one here I’m interested in.”

It was true.  I obviously did a scan of the bar on our way in, and everyone appeared to be douchey frat boys.  I wasn’t in the mood to look for a husband.  I just wanted to drink beer and watch football (maybe I should find a wife).  But when Brittany’s on a mission, Brittany’s on a mission.  And wingman she is.

At one point, she disappeared to “go to the bathroom” and never came back.  About 20 minutes passed when one of the guys we were sitting with said “maybe you should go look for her?”

It was cold out; we all had our coats and bags on the chairs.  Meg was fading and wanted to leave.  After she left I collected all of our things and went looking for Brittany.  Where I found her was in another room at the front of the bar, surrounded by three guys.  She sees me coming and says,

“Oh here she is!  Court, I wanted to introduce you to your future brother-in-law, and your future husband!”

Oh great.  I should have seen this coming.  She had been gone for so long that all three of the guys knew my entire life story, my career path and my dating history.   Brittany briefed me on my new husband’s background, and detailed me on why she specially chose him out of ALL of the guys in the bar (there were A LOT of guys in the bar).

I had a short conversation with my husband before he looked at his watch and walked out to make a phone call.  He had a flight to San Francisco that evening for work, and he tried (unsuccessfully) to get on a later one.  He quickly said his goodbyes and left.  Without my number.

Brittany was DEVASTATED.  Like actually devastated.  She just didn’t understand.  “Britt, this happens.  This is life.  It’s not a big deal.”

“But WHY didn’t he get your number????”

“I guess he just didn’t like me that much!”

Britt tried to give HER number to his friend in case he ASKED for MY number.  She wasn’t ready to give up yet.  He said that made no sense.  She suggested I give him my number.  ladjfa;ldksfja;dlkfj;fjda;lfjads;l f  Fine.  I gave his friend my number.  He texted me several times.  I don’t know why.

A few days later I got a text.  “Hey, it’s [husband].  I was in such a rush I forgot to get your number.  I’m really glad Pat got it for me.”

Mmmmm… okay.  Anyway, the guy travels like crazy.  It seemed he was only in NY for like a day every two months.  It was 4 months until we had our first date.  I liked him.  He was the perfect mix of tall athlete, a hint of hipster, and a touch of cowboy.  If a shoe collection could tell a story, his closet (I now know) is lined with Chuck Taylors, Sperrys and cowboy boots.

The date went well… we had a couple of drinks mid-week back at CK 14, which seems to be our middle-ground between the upper east side and Hoboken.  He was funny.  And charming.  And from the midwest, but had skulls on his belt.  I was digging it.  We said goodbye near the subway, and that we hoped it would be sooner than 4 months before we saw each other again.  Then… nothing.

I got a random text from him a while later, saying he was flying back into town and would be around for the night.  It happened to be the night I dressed like a clown and made balloon hats in the subways with my sister.  I told him “Maybe we can meet you later, but we’re dressed like clowns.”

He said “Okay, let me know when you’re on your way.”

“Carissa, he didn’t even ask why we were dressed like clowns.”

“That’s weird.”

So we met him and his brother and his friends.  Dressed like clowns.  At a bar that was not clown themed.  We had a blast, Carissa gave me the stamp of approval, “I actually don’t hate him,” and that was that.  “Bye!  Hopefully we’ll do this again, in sooner than 4 months.”  After that night…. nothing.  WTF.

He texts me out of the blue on Thursday… 4 months later.  “Happy hour tonight?”

“I can’t, I have a thing from 7-9.”

“Oh… a thing!”

“A Yelp event… I didn’t want to sound nerdy so I tried to get away with ‘a thing.'”

“Nice try.  Super nerdy.”

Turns out he was around all weekend, so Meg and I went to meet up with him after the Yankee game last night (or should I say DURING the Yankee game… we opted to blow that popsicle stand during the rain delay).  He invited us to his place since his friends weren’t going out til later on.  We grabbed some beer and headed over.

We were greeted by a fancy doorman, who actually opened the door for us, and went up to his 11th floor apartment.  Holy freakin’ crap.  It was decorated impeccably in somewhat of a vintage/nautical/California theme and had a gigantic balcony completely furnished.   I’ve noticed lately I tend to fall more in love with people’s apartments than the people who live in them.  But honestly, I’m in love.  With the apartment.  And his shoe collection.

Somehow it came up he is moving to Atlanta for work on the 30th.

“WHAT?!  You can’t move to Georgia!!!”

“You’re moving to California the day before me!  You have no say.”

“Ugh, this is horrible.”

We went out and had an amazing time.  When it was time to say goodbye, I said…. “Well… maybe I’ll see you in 4 months?”

“Actually, most likely we’ll never see each other again.”

“OMG that is a horrible thing to say.”

“I’m just being honest…”

And that’s that.  Farewell, husband… until we meet again (or not).

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