Scum Between My Toes… Bobby Birmingham (the third)

I’ve been played like a fiddle! It’s a fact. Backed up by facts. And more facts. And lots and lots of screenshots.

So remember the story about the 4 Month Husband? If you don’t, or you haven’t read it, or you need a refresher, click here: The 4 Month Husband. Like just do it. The following story will make way more sense if you do. Promise.

Husband doesn’t have Facebook. I remember a fishy comment made by his brother last winter that he “couldn’t” have Facebook, or something to that effect, but I didn’t think much of it, and just assumed he maybe had a crazy ex-girlfriend or something. But I AM Facebook friends with his brother, Rory.

Husband moved to Atlanta “for work,” at the end of July- same exact time I moved to California. After almost a year of intermittent communication (CERTAINLY not consistent), and seeing each other here and there, I just pegged him as a nice, really fun guy with a great job, but one in which required a ton of travel.

So I was doing my regular Facebook perusing yesterday, and noticed his brother Rory was tagged in a photo with Husband, Bobby. I hadn’t thought about Husband Bobby in a while, so I clicked on Rory’s page and looked at a couple of photos. There was one, posted from a girl who I didn’t know, and I randomly clicked on her face. Husband Bobby was in her cover photo standing next to her and what looked to be her family. I thought “Oh! Husband Bobby got a girlfriend already in Atlanta! Super cute!”

Clicking on her profile photos, though was a little funny. There were photos of her and Husband Bobby, that went back quite a while. They were all visible to the public, so you didn’t have to be friends with her to see them. She had also written several posts over the past year which were visible to the public……………. which had me sitting in front of my laptop with my jaw dropped open.

Husband Bobby…. Bobby Birmingham the third, to be precise, had a girlfriend. The.Whole.Time. She lived in Atlanta. Holy freakin’ ;lsadfjka;ldskjfa;ldskfjadl;ksjfa;lkdjfa;lkdja;ldkjf;aldksjfal;dksfja;lkdfja;lkdsfja;sdlfkja;dlskjfa;ldsjf;aldkjfa;ldkjfa;dl.

I had no idea. And when I say no idea, I mean NO.IDEA. We had conversations about girlfriends, boyfriends, exes…. and she was not the one mentioned. There were lots of photos of Husband Bobby’s ex from San Diego on his brothers Facebook page, but zero current photos with any girls. Until now. Until yesterday when I happened to come across the update on my newsfeed.

How could someone do that? It wasn’t like he met me out one day and flirted with me, and that was it…. although it may explain him leaving the bar that first day WITHOUT my number… it may explain a lot of things, actually. But he was in communication THROUGHOUT THE YEAR. THE WHOLE YEAR. I have text messages on my phone from the beginning of time; I suppose if there were such thing as a text hoarder, I’d be one. I pulled up his name, and sure enough, I had every single text still in my phone. Which allowed me to correspond this poor girl’s Facebook public updates to his communication with me. I feel sick to my stomach for this girl. Does she have NO IDEA? Do I tell her? Would I want to know? Yes, I would want to know. I think any girl would want to know. Is it my place to tell her? I don’t know. No. Probably not. I don’t know her. But I do feel somewhat of a moral dilemma.

Guys, don’t do this. It’s sickening. I’m mad. I’m more mad for her than I am for myself. He didn’t owe me anything. We never actually dated. What he did over this year was wrong, scummy and disturbing. And I fell right on into it all. And I wish I could send out a public service announcement to have him banned from all women. Here’s a glimpse into the past year…. a sampling, if you will….

 

Husband Bobby: White bubbles on left

Me: Green bubbles on right

Bobby and I met on October 14th… two weeks before his 29th birthday.

October 30, 2012

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Two days before his birthday:

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December 20, 2012:

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5 days prior:

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And a couple of weeks later… Girlfriend comes to visit again:

 

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——————————————————–

February 13, 2013:

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A week before girlfriend comes for a visit we have our first real date (four months after meeting):

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Date went well… Four days before girlfriend visits: Booty-call attempt? [FAIL]:

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And the next morning:

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I guess I thought I liked him after our first date…

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DURING the visit from his girlfriend (which happened to be on VALENTINE’S DAY)… And immediately after….

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No date stamp on this one, but it directly followed the one above, Still February 22, 2013:

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My sister and I met him and his brother at White Rabbit that night. Then we all crashed in his brother’s living room on the LES that night.

——————————————————–

February 28, 2013:

Screen Shot 2013-11-16 at 11.34.16 AM

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Hey Bobby… you left out the part about how you were skiing for 6 days WITH YOUR GIRLFRIEND.

——————————————————–

May 28, 2013:

Girlfriend visiting NYC again….

Screen Shot 2013-11-15 at 5.25.03 PM

Two days prior:

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May take it easy because YOUR GIRLFRIEND is in town visiting? Ohhhh!

——————————————————-

July 4, 2013…. Girlfriend in NYC:

Screen Shot 2013-11-15 at 6.52.35 PM

4 days prior to the July 4th visit:

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And then a week AFTER the visit:

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Well we met up at Husband Bobby’s apartment that night and then went out with a bunch of friends. I suppose we had such a great time THAT night, that the next….

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Then I moved to California. Then Husband Bobby moved to Atlanta… “for work.” I know overkilled on these screenshots, but I felt the need to drive my point home. I don’t think I’ve ever been so fooled before in my life… but hey, I guess I could have been, right??

I think I need to put all men on a time-out.

I’d like to thank my girlfriends, specifically Team KP, for helping to develop and hone my internet stalkage skills. Without them, this post wouldn’t be possible.

And I ask you, my friends, what would YOU do, had you stumbled upon this information?

xoxo

Gossip Girl

The Architect … A Bit of Nostalgia

The Architect is old news.  So old, in fact, that none of his stories can be found on this blog.  You’d have to refer back to my original blog posts, which are now, unfortunately, gone forever.  Unlike my old blog, The Architect is not gone forever.  When I refer to him ever being “in the picture,”  he never really was… in a dating sense.  He was just one of those lingering guys from my Hoboken days that continued to keep my attention… most likely because he was not giving me enough attention.

Guys… don’t take lessons from this.  It’s not a winning move.  Women nearing (and God-forbid OVER) the age of thirty, are not looking for a chase or a game.  They’re looking for a real man who has real morals and values and actually wants to pursue a real, mature relationship.  “The chase”  is no longer appealing to most of us once we have neared our thirties.  But one thing The Architect had going for him, is that he kinda stepped it up, in a sense, right before I moved across the country.

The question here is obvious:  Did I finally begin having these feelings for him because I actually had feelings for him, or was it because I knew I was leaving and I couldn’t have him even if I really wanted him?  I’m not completely sure what the answer is.  Before I left, we started spending a lot more time together… cramming it in.  Like “holy crap I may never see you again; let’s hang out as much as possible.”  Before that last month, we would see each other here and there… whatever.  But once it was almost go-time, it seemed to be a little more…. “one last time out… one last, ‘can you fix my sink?’,  and one last ‘goodbye’ after my car was packed and we were standing outside my apartment hugging while my sister was screaming out the window that I needed to come back in and lock up…”  Did that mean anything?  No, probably not.

But then I got to California.  And being the one that left, I should have been the one who didn’t care anymore.  I should have been the one to be excited to experience new things and meet new people, and forget the ones that never really amounted to anything… which… don’t get me wrong… I was.  I was SO excited.  And I met amazing people, ones who have even exceeded my expectations as friends, and I’ve been having the time of my life.  The problem is, I continued to think about The Architect.   And the other problem is, The Architect got a girlfriend.  Does he like her that much?  I don’t know.  Yeah, I guess so.   He says he does.  I’m not sure how much I believe him.  I believe they have a ton in common… because facts are facts… they do have a ton in common.  They went to the same schools, they have the same profession, and the same hobbies… but do I get the sense that she’s the end-all-be-all?  No.  But could he be hiding that fact from me for my sake?  Because he probably knows I still think about him?  Obviously.  I’m not stupid.

The Architect and I don’t have much in common.  He’s really logical, I’m not.  He’s good at math, I’m not.  He’s reserved, I’m not.  He over-thinks things; I under-think them.   He wouldn’t buy a mattress off the side of the road… I would.  But would I refrain from buying a mattress off the side of the road if he asked me to?  Yeah, probably.  …Maybe.

Point of this post is… well… I don’t really have one.  Just one of those honest moments when my laptop is within reach and I have no one around to entertain me… so I type…when I probably shouldn’t type… But I do… So you, my friends, get my thoughts for the hour.

Love you, muffins.  ❤

xoxo Gossip Girl

Wednesday First Date = Naptime

I met a new guy for a drink in PB last night.  In summary, this is how it went:

b

First of all, I agreed to go out with this guy for a couple of reasons.

1.  He grew up on Long Island, and now lives in SD (common ground).

2.  He has facial hair in his photo.

If you’re a man with facial hair in your photo, it’s probably because you know you look good with facial hair;  so you’d better show up to a first date with the same facial hair as in the photo.  I don’t know if you guys know this, but you look like a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT PERSON when your face is shaved.  And it’s usually not for the better.

Also, if you’re going to suggest a “casual place,” to “grab a drink,”  AT LEAST loosen your tie.  I’d actually prefer you remove the tie completely and maybe even get a little crazy and unbutton that top button on your white freshly pressed button-down, but at the very least, let your poor neck breathe just a tiny bit.

As much as I felt like I was sitting across from Ross Gellar for an entirely too-long period of time, it really wasn’t his looks or his outfit that bothered me the most.  No, no… it was his personality.  HOLY CRAP… what is WITH these San Diego guys??  They either don’t have a job, or their job is ALL they talk about.  I think I’ve figured it out:

In NYC, you’re EXPECTED to have a good job.  Otherwise you’re a loser.  If you don’t have a good job, you either pretend you do, and don’t really talk about it, or you’re trying really hard to get one.  In San Diego, you’re in the minority if you have a solid career… so that’s what you use to differentiate yourself from the surfers who live off of mommy and daddy’s money.

Let me throw it out there… at this point… I.DON’T.CARE.

I don’t care about your Mercedes.  I don’t care about your savings account.  I don’t care about the amount of money your grandfather left to your parents, and what they did with it.  I don’t care about your pool.  I don’t care about your stuffy tie.  I don’t care about the amount of international vacations you’ve taken in the past 6 months.  I don’t care about your airline points.  I don’t care how many homes you own.  I don’t care about your Rolex.  I don’t care about most of the things coming out of your mouth, because you are SO DAMN SUPERFICIAL.  Every last one of you that has a real job.  I DON’T CARE.

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I think I’m the kind of person who wears her emotions on her sleeve.  And I think it’s pretty obvious when my eyes are glassing over and I’m BORED out of my mind… but please… please… continue talking about yourself.  Start from when you were five, and continue, up until 5 minutes ago when your Mercedes didn’t fit correctly in the parking spot (hashtag you poor thing!)  Please don’t leave out the names of your best friend’s ex-wives, or how much money they made.  Also, your family problems are fair game.  I’d love to hear all about them.  And if you’re going to pay for this one beer we got with your business credit card so that you can expense it, you should definitely let me know that as well.

Oh, by the way, did I tell you my name yet?  Oh, you’re still talking?  Nevermind then… not important.

And if you think this 45 minutes sitting at a bar talking at me went so well, definitely text me right afterwards and ask me to do something again next week.  Because that 45 minutes was so riveting, I just can’t wait to hear more.  Maybe by next week, you’ll have closed on your 5th condo downtown, so it will give you something more to talk about.

No.Thankyou.

I think I’m reverting back to the surfers.  At least they don’t bore me to death.

Happy Thursday!

Over and out, butterflies.  🙂

xoxo

Gossip Girl

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

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