Monday, February 27, 2012

Spice Up Your Dating Profile aka Stop with the Duck Lips

Are you Single?
Have you tried online dating? 
Are you an awesome, well-adjusted person with a good smile and a solid head on your shoulders? 
Have you not been getting the responses and the messages you so justly deserve? 

It's probably your pictures. 

It would be a lie to say that the first thing that people look at when they see your profile is your "about me" section. The truth is most people immediately hop over to your pictures and give them a once/twice/thrice over. 

I've done the online dating thing now for about 2 years. I come and go in spurts depending on how I'm feeling or varying stages of relationships, but one thing doesn't change. When I'm actively looking for people on dating sites, on the sites with counters that tell me how many people are viewing my profile, I have about 150 views per week, with a 60% message-to rate, and a 80% response rate for the messages sent by me to potentials. 

I'm not the most attractive person on the planet by any means, but I can tell you that I have what I believe are a variety of photographs, which highlight my best qualities, and which can 100% work for you, too! 

So here's my list of photos you should and should not include in your profile. 

You might think, "why should I listen to you?" You don't have to, these are merely suggestions that have worked for me and for my friends. When you combine these five suggested photos (more if you want to) the success rate of receiving messages and having people respond to your profile is high. If you leave one or two out, you'll still have a pretty decent return, but after studying the numbers after removing or adding selected pictures and asking friends for feedback on different people's profiles, I can tell you that these suggestions will boost your online dating numbers. 

Your Main Photo

It should be of you (not your dog), and you alone - crop if it's necessary, but if there's more than one person in your profile photo, I either have one of three reactions (1) WOW his friend is SOOOO much cuter than he is (2) Oh his friend is unattractive... are all his friends unattractive? If we get together and all he has is unattractive friends who am I supposed to set all my single friends up with? <--- sad but an actual thought OR (3) If it's a member of the opposite sex, who the hell is that?!!?! Is it an ex? Is it a best friend with whom they've hooked up and there's weird chemistry there, etc... SO to just prevent these unnecessary thoughts, just keep it to you in your main photo. 

It should feature you from the chest up or closer. But not too close to where it's just your eye, because then potentials start to feel creeped out. You should be genuinely smiling and looking damn cute, just like this guy.  

They should NOT feature you standing in a bathroom mirror and they should not feature your "sexy face," because most of the time - out of context, your sexy face just makes you look indifferent and unapproachable. No one wants to date someone who is indifferent, because it makes us wonder why they're indifferent and what else they could care less about, such as, would that translate over to indifference in your relationship. Subliminal messages are powerful in online dating. You really need to take the time to think about what your pictures are saying. 

They should NOT feature you standing a mile away, because seriously... I can't see what you look like, and it bothers me. And if it bothers a relatively laid-back single's blogger it probably bothers other people as well. It's better to just give us what we want... which is a medium shot of you looking happy. 

Your Other Photos

(1) Action Shots - Most people have a wide variety of interests and most of the time someone is standing by with a camera and takes a picture of you doing something that you like doing. You know the photos I'm talking about. You throwing a dodgeball or playing an instrument or swimming with stingrays. These are called your Action Shots. These are important because it shows people that you like doing things, and that you're passionate about them. You should typically have two of these showing different activities - and those activities should NOT include drinking and looking like a drunk hot mess. If you had alcohol prior to that picture being taken. Don't use it. You might think it looks like you're a fun person, but to the majority of people it makes you look like a hot mess. 

Use shots such as this girl lovingly hugging a horse, in a riding hat. She's enjoying what she's doing, and it's pretty obvious. This picture tells me that this girl really loves riding horses and that it's a big part of her life. That's a genuine smile on her face and aside from her awkward pose, she looks pretty damn comfortable up on that horse, which tells me she rides a lot. 

This however is a not so much. "But LoRo, he's lovingly holding up his phone in a winter hat!" Nope. It doesn't work that way. Photos in which you're lovingly holding up a cellphone imply a connection to technology that will interrupt your shared time together. A photo like this to me says that on the first date he's going to pull out his cell phone and put it on the table and check it periodically through the night sending out text messages every so often. 
I also, don't necessarily have to see your face in your action shots, side profiles or pictures where your face is partially covered are completely ok, as long as they show you doing something you love doing. 

(2) Group Shot - But LoRo, you just told me to not have anyone else in my picture. I know. I know. But that's your MAIN photo, ie, the photo that acts as your first impression. The photo that connects you to your potential online daters. A Group Shot serves as kind of a built in recommendation. It tells me that (1) people like to hang out with you so (2) you can't be absolutely insane... in theory. It shows that you have friends so that you wont base your entire life around potentials and that you have a healthy social life and can interact with other people. You don't need to have a photo with a bundle of people in it, like this. 

In fact that's the wrong kind of group shot, you want something that implies that the people in the photo know you and are your friends, and that you have an intimate connection with them and can forge lasting bonds of friendship - even if it's just you and one other person (very important - no two shots of you and the gender of people you're trying to date). Your potentials need to know that you have people who would "vouch" for you. 

Something like this that implies friendship 
Not This, because this implies a little something more than friendship, which is made doubly obvious by the fact that he took the time to block off part of her face. 

(3) Body Shot - This shot serves to give people the over all look of you. I'm going to be real with you, most people have a specific body type to which they are attracted. For example I'm attracted to men with broad shoulders and a little extra around the middle, aka the "linebacker" look. It's what I'm into. So when I see someone who has the rail thin look or the body builder look, most of the time I just hit next. This goes for the majority of people. It's nothing against you or who you are. It just means that for that one person, you are not what they're looking for. It happens. And it's better it happens in the early stages rather than after you've exchanged 50 emails and meet in person only to discover that they're just not going to do it for you. 

Photos like this that show your whole body are great! 
But if you don't have any, photos which show your upper body work just as well (we're ignoring the fact he's got jello shots for the purpose of this topic).

However, photos like this imply you're looking for sex and sex only. Funny thing about this girl's profile is that it stated repeatedly that she was looking for a relationship where the guy would treat her like a human being and not a piece of meat. Actions speak louder than words and this action says, take my clothes off, you'll like what you see. Now if you're looking for sex, these are fine, but if not, be careful about what message your sending.  
And another kind of body shot which works great is something that doubles as an action photo, just like this one. Not only can you see his overall build, but you also know that he likes fishing. If you're uncertain about how many photos you want on your profile, photos like this are great for their duality.
(4) Personality Shot - Last but definitely not least is the shot that gives me a little knowledge into what your personality is. 

If you're goofy we want to see shots that show you acting a little bit goofy. 

Shots that show you as introspective or deep... orrrr a hipster.

Shots that show that you care about your beautiful child. 

If you're a little bit more serious, show something serious or toned down. 

If you love your dog, I wanna see you with a picture of your dog... however this shot also shows a don't. DON'T show a picture of you obviously in a car, which is obviously moving, while you're obviously distracted - I don't care how cute your puppy is... Don't. 

Unless your personality is that of a teenage girl, aka too young to actually be on a dating site. Those stupid Myspace photos need to be left in the past on your Myspace page. You know the ones I'm talking about. The obviously self-taken, at arms length, raised above your head to de-emphasize your double chin and to give all the boys a good look down your shirt. These, need to stop. They weren't cute when you were 14 and they're not cute now, because you're not fooling anybody. When a potential meets you in person, they're going to find out you have a double chin. You can't hide that in real life; you just cant. 
And to re-emphasize this point, because most of the time your bathroom is disgusting (not this girl's, but most of the time) Stop with the bathroom pictures. You can be cute as a button, but when you take a photo in the bathroom, all I can think about is you using the bathroom and then I think of poop, because everybody poops, and then I'm turned off and clicking next. 

Also, kissing inanimate objects is only cute when it's a statue or something funny. If there's a picture of you kissing a shoe... you might want to rethink your life decisions. 

And for the love of god and all things good in the world, stop with the frickin' duck face. 

Friday, February 24, 2012

How About We... Meet In Real Life, Chemistry Happens Offline

Since journeying out into the dating world of the DC Metroplex, I have been on countless dates with countless men, and have talked to even more than just those... 
I've tried the bar dates. 
The online dates. 
The friend dates. 
The enemy date. 
The bartender date (hey! hey!).
The bouncer date. 
The oh my flicking god get your hands off of me date. 

But aside from actual dates... there were the internet dating lackeys. The I'm not going to get out from behind my computer for 6 months because I probably haven't taken a bath guys. 
The Construction Worker
The Football Coach
The Merchant Marine
The Writer
The Guy From My Hometown
The Lumberjack in the middle of the creepster woods. 
The Scientist
The Filmmaker
The Austin Grill Employee (not saying there's anything wrong with Austin Grill, because I love the place, but... um... I've messaged back and forth with you for 5 weeks, "make a move!")
The Insurance Salesman
The Sales Agent for a Sports Team, who turned out to be 10 shades creepier than the marine. 

And from all these dates and all these men and all these internet matchmaking websites of love and happiness, I've learned a few things. 

One... no matter how fricking cute their profile picture is, they could make frankenstein's monster look attractive. They could have the worst personality on the face of the planet. They could only want to talk about their ex-girlfriend all night. They could want to talk about their work drama and ease their troubled minds on the first date, before you've even had a chance to ask how many siblings they have. 

No matter how CUTE you think they look in their pictures, or how adorable their messages read, at the end of the day, there's nothing like meeting them in person and seeing how they interact with you and greater society. 

Two... Sitting behind a computer and exchanging fifty batrillion messages back and forth with mr/mrs Right, can never equal the experience of getting to hang out with them and learn about their lives first hand. Seriously, if you met the guy of your dreams through one of your friends, would you automatically insist they find you on facebook and only contact you that way? NO! You wouldn't. You would want to interact with them in real-life. 

You'd want to close down a bar with them and find out that you share a level of nerdy-similarities or that when he smiles, his eyes light up and his chin dimple creases deeper while he nervously looks away, because he wants you to like him back as much as he likes you. You can't appreciate a person's laugh over the internet. You can't appreciate the way they reach for your hand as you cross the street. Meeting someone for that first date, actually taking the time to get out there, is worth all the rocks on the moon. 

Three... Chemistry is irreplaceable. I have kissed a LOT of men. And the one thing I've learned over the years is that there is something, some smell, some intoxicating feeling that comes with the slow lean-in as the seconds become hours and the hours become nights and the nights become forever. 

For example, I have had this tiny crush on this guy, we'll call him - IrishEyes, for years. I see him at my favorite haunts because he works there and through the years we've become better and better acquainted. I'm not going to lie, when he squeezes my hands a rush of dopamine floods my system like nobody's business, and when he leans over to give me a kiss on the cheek at the end of the night, I just about feel my entire body sing. 

So anyway, Mardi Gras this year I ran into ole IrishEyes at the bar as usual, and as I went to close down my tab, I asked how much I owed... 
"But, um, I dont have a million about a million kisses!!" 
He leaned towards me as is custom for our after closing time dance and I go to kiss him on the cheek. 
"One" he said. 
"Fiiine, two, three, four,... fifty-three" each kiss brought this smell of hormones and testosterone that screamed at me with the voices of a thousand desires and as I went in for fifty-four, he turned his head, and met my lips with his own and he tenderly kissed me. His lips folded around mine, and the taste of Cocacola which had lingered on his lips a few seconds before now gently fluttered across my tongue as the gentle smell of soap, sweat, and a sheen of cologne lighter than the gossamer wings of a fairy played on his skin. 
He pulled away a few centimeters - his slightly green, flecked with gold eyes searched mine own boring hazel ones, smiling. I smiled back.

He leaned in closer and brought me back in for fifty-five, and fifty-six, and fifty-seven, and fifty-eight, and after that I lost count. All I could do was fall into those kisses and with each touch of his lips against mine I could feel his nose flare ever so slightly. I don't know what he was experiencing, but on my end. I died. Dopamine flooded my system, and my knees went weak. 

That my friends, can't happen behind a computer. It can't happen in a thousand conversations riddled with witty banter. Because that smell of someone you desire pressing up against your lips and the feelings associated with it, is pure chemistry. 

Trust me. I've kissed a lot of people, and some of them, while they're amazing kissers, leave me wondering what color jacket to wear with my dress tomorrow. When that spark, that pizazz is missing you can't replace it with a thousand conversations. You have to get out there and meet that person face to face and feel the press of their hand in yours and listen to the way their laugh rings from the corners of the room and taste the delicate hope of a first kiss - followed by the lust of the second and third, of course.

If you're curious to see my own response to the video contest, here it is! 

And That ladies and gentlemen is why chemistry happens offline. And if you feel like I do about where chemistry happens and you fancy yourself a filmmaker, you should check out's video contest. The theme is - Chemistry Happens Offline, and if you're interested, check out this website for more details on how you could win $1500 by making a quick video! 

Also interested in trying out for yourself? Why? Because they take the online dating, OFFLINE. It's actually pretty interesting, because it's based on date ideas you come up with. ANNNND Right now they're offering a special promotion for 33% off if you use the coupon code vdaylove (personally I'm more about the mardi gras love, but that's not the coupon code... is it!?)

Monday, February 20, 2012

My Political Opinion - It's my body

I've always liked politics.
I find them intriguing, engaging, and exciting.
But I also find them boring, divisive, and just plain stupid the majority of the time.
Because most of the time people are so hell-bent on making you believe their point of view that they don't take the time to realize what they believe could seriously affect someone's life.

When I originally came to Washington, D.C. it was to study politics.
I had BIG plans, people. I was going to be a representative to the Texas State House of Representatives by the time I was 25. I was going to be in the Texas Senate by 30. By 35 I was going to be slanting towards international politics, and by 40 I was going to be an ambassador to Turkey or Greece.... or Aruba (aka Netherlands).

But after a few months of being yelled at in class for beliefs that the creating new nuclear power plants in various parts of the country was killing off other small towns across America due to the fact that places like Beaumont, TX and Lake Charles, LA wouldn't want to abandon their relatively "safe" oil plants in favor of potentially highly unstable nuclear power plants in what is known hurricane country.

With the influx of nuclear power plants elsewhere and the demise of oil as a main form of energy, petrochemical/oil plants would no longer be staffed at the current capacities and thousands of people in those areas would lose jobs, which would force them to other cities and thereby turning small town hurricane country into ghost town hurricane country... So I got tired of pushing for a dependence on oil until safer sources of energy, like solar, water, and wind, could have time to grow and catch on in slow to catch on in those same places.

Needless to say I was blasted repeatedly for my staunch Texan pride, and had to pretty much abandoned my political goals.

But I digress...

Now, most of the time I just ignore politics until something really pisses me off.
And in fact, I made a pact with myself that I would try to keep politics off of my blog, because it would most likely piss off some readers, but I'm in Washington, DC land of the politics, and I'm pissed off ladies and gentlemen.

I'm by no means a feminist. I find the concept of stay at home mom intriguing and potentially desirable if it means I could write on scripts and books and blogs all day.

But I've become aware of an unsettling trend in politics that keeps popping up it's ugly head and is starting to make me really really upset.

Government telling me what I as a woman can and cannot do with my own body - for the purpose of this post we're going to be addressing my opinions on Abortion.

I know half of you stopped reading right there and have already developed an opinion about what I'm going to say, but please stick with me for a second.

I am neither pro life or pro choice.

I am pro stop telling me what the f*ck to do and stop telling me how to live my life.

I am an intelligent, well-bred southern woman, and guess what - it is none of your g-ddamned business to tell me what to do with a baby I may or may not want. I totally accept the fact that yes... if by some divine intervention I get preggers before I'm married and have a little life force inside of me that yes... I made it. It's mine, and it's alive.

You can argue till the cows come home about how it's not alive until this week or that trimester, but guess what...

If I have a tumor growing inside of me... no matter how small or insignificant it might be. That tumor is still a tumor... it's got a blood source pumping blood into it's little mass of clumping cells and it's a tumor whether you want it to be or not.

Just because the baby inside of you is one week old or 8 months old, doesn't make it less of a baby. That's like trying to tell me that a plant isn't a plant even if it only has one root and is barely clinging onto survival. A pebble is still a rock. Whatever way you spin it, in my opinion, it's still a baby and it's alive.

But here's the kicker - much like it's MY CHOICE to cut out a tumor inside of me and have the ugly little mass removed, because it's killing me, or making me look ugly, or ruining my ability to walk/talk/exist, etc...
It's, also, my choice to end the life of that precious little child inside of me too, because it's still technically a part of my body.

Would I personally go through with an abortion, probably not, because I think adoption is a wonderful, wonderful thing.

But if I made the choice to have unprotected sex and somehow turn up preggers, then it's my own fault, and I alone will have to deal with the consequences of knowing that I created life by being irresponsible and that I ended life by being irresponsible.

Yes. I realize that sometimes horrific things happen where a woman or child winds up pregnant in some unforseen way, but it should not be society telling them... "oh dear, you were raped so you can totally abort that baby."

Yes. I realize that the father might want a say in whether I have the baby or don't, but at the end of the day it's not the single man that has to deal with carrying a life inside of them for 9 months, feeding it, nurturing it, feeling it grow inside of you.

It's me as the single woman who would have to find a way to drive myself to the hospital at 2 a.m. on a Wednesday night by myself. Most guys barely stick around for breakfast, I'm not trusting a one night stand to be there when I need support the most. Life is not like "Knocked Up," aside from the birthing scene, that was actually disgustingly accurate.

In my humble opinion, it should be the pregnant person's choice. It's their body. It's their psyche that has to deal with the aftermath of holding a child they more than likely didn't want in their arms or dealing with the pain of an ending the promise of future life.

It's their psyche, not society's that has to go through therapy and group counseling afterwards.
It's their personal pain of thinking about the subject, time and time again when they see pro choicers or pro lifers telling them what they should want and what they should do.
It's their emotional distress every time they see a baby, thinking maybe mine would have looked like that.

It's not society's.
It's not the churches'
It's not mine.
It's not yours.
It's theirs.

And some of you will read this and be appalled. You'll think how can she say this stuff. How can she think that it's o.k. for a pregnant lady to kill an innocent life form inside of her that hasn't even had the opportunity to know life.

I'm going to be real with you. I don't. Personally - I myself do not think that barring extreme circumstances that abortion is the meet and right thing to do. Sometimes however accidents happen before you're ready. I'm not saying that you should be using this as your "back-up method" because that is messed up.

But who am I to judge how you live your life. I'm no one. The only person whose life I get to judge is mine and trust me, I'm a pretty hard critic.

And it's not anyone else's business to judge how anyone else lives their life.

You are totally within your rights to disapprove of what someone does, but at the end of the day... you need to keep your g-ddamned mouth closed, because it's their life and it's their decision to do whatever they want to do.

It's not your societal obligation to attack people with blood to protest someone who cannot support a child going to have an abortion. It's not your societal obligation to tell other people that they can't use contraception. And it sure as hell is not your societal obligation to tell other people how morally corrupt they are because they're killing God's child. Guess what "judge not lest ye be judged"- you picketing hypocrites!

All I'm saying is that, I am neither pro choice or pro life. And I'm tired of society trying to push me to pick a side.

I am pro individual's rights and letting people make their own decisions based on their individual free will.

Just saying... 

Thursday, February 16, 2012

There's a Hole Where My Brain Should Be

"9-1-1 please state your emergency."
"I was desperate."
"Miss, can you tell me what happened?"
"He told me happy valentine's day, and I was weak... so very, very weak"
"Ma'am did you respond?"
"Help is on the way."
"Hurry! Just please... don't send the Fire Department..."

It had been a rough week and a half.
Sitting up all day at the hospital.
Fielding, "how's he doing?" texts.
Running errands all over SmallTown, Texas - because my mom didn't particularly want to leave my father's side.
Staying up at night, clutching a loaded shotgun, thinking that the creak in the living room was probably a mass murderer looking for new meat, all the while praying that if I did jump out guns-a-blazing, that I didn't shoot my brother's girlfriend by mistake.

By the time I was supposed to come back to DC, all I wanted was a warm bath, chocolate chip cookies, and a "Hot in Cleveland" marathon.  

I'm telling you... I was spent.

While riding with my mother on the way to the airport to fly back to DC, my phone vibrated.
I looked down at the text message hoping it was ManMe texting me, but it wasn't... it was TheFirefighter.

Now it's probably been about a month since our first date, and a little over three weeks since he used me and flung me into the rubbish.

Normally I'd say, "f*ck you!" And go on my merry way.
But I was vulnerable.
My emotional self was tethered to my brain by a single silk thread of a spider's web. I wasn't full of the sassy spunk that had let me shut him down two weeks ago, when he nonchalantly pretended like nothing happened.

Instead without even thinking about the repercussions, I responded with my standard I hate valentine's day response, "Back Atchya."

I assumed that would be that.

That was not that.

That started this.

This was the promise of another date.
I caved.
I was mentally tired, physically exhausted, and emotionally spent.

To be perfectly honest with you all I wanted to do was cuddle with someone and since ManMe was not an option (curse you distance! CURSE YOU!), and My Bartender was being fricking ridiculous with his demands, "pictures lead to cuddletime, cuddletime does not lead to cuddletime."
"No pictures. I look like shit."
"I still want a picture."
"You're not getting one, me coming to see you in person is 100x better than a picture."
"But a picture lasts longer."
...... two hours pass
"How far away are you?"
"... It's 1:30 a.m. I am not coming over. I am now in pajamas. p.s. you suck."

So when TheFirefighter suggested lunch and hang time the next day...

I had to do it.
I needed to cuddle like a meth addict needs money.

When I got to his place we picked right back up where we left off. His genuine concern for my father's health and his own story about worrying about his father's well being cut the silk thread. As soon as we got back to his place after lunch, I buried my head into his chest as his arms curled around me.

We didn't talk much, but I clung to his stocky, comfortable frame like a barnacle on a waterlogged ship.

I could feel my endorphins slowly start to rise, and my insides began to feel normal again.

That was That.
It was like filling up on fuel at the gas station of life.
Except it's not one you'd tell your friends to stop at, because it's absolutely disgusting and the bathrooms look like they haven't been cleaned in years.

One of my friends, I'm not sure who, once told me that they actually couldn't stand the guy whose arms they ran to, but something was better than nothing.

I never really understood that. Why would someone want to spend time with a person they despised, no matter how cute they were or how cuddly they were.

Then it happened to me.
I felt dirty, and not in the "oooh baby," since of the phrase.

I actually felt like I needed to be scrubbed with lye soap inside and out. The emotional grime of using someone who used me was clinging to my skin and sinking into my pores.
Can someone have emotional acne? Like... on their soul?
Is there a Clearasoul product that can help me?

Probably not.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Oh God No...

So I recently started promising new posts every Monday and Thursday, because I decided that if I wanted to be semi-professional about what was going on here, I needed some sort of structure, versus the 3 posts one week and nothing the next. 

But if you're a regular reader, you noticed... I haven't posted the last three days I promised posts... 

Oh trust me, I had posts lined up and being worked on... Posts like "Turn Up the Burner I'm Getting Cold," "The Quadfecta of Electronic Dumping," and a rather sassy post about things I don't like about Dating in DC... followed by a list of things I do enjoy regarding DC Dating. (Just so you know what to look forward to!!)

But I thought I'd just post a brief note for you today, on Valentine's Day to let you know what happened and where I have been. 

Two weekends ago, I had made plans to essentially camp out at my friend Sam's apartment all weekend, due to drinking activities that were commencing. (I try to be responsible). Since I live out in bumblescratch Bethesda, it's rather expensive to Taxi back late at night from Rumors (hehe) repetitively, and Sam has an open couch. 

So I packed my bag and planned for a weekend of no boys. Focused on just hanging with the girls and having a good time. Friday night I had a Game Night with girls from my old sorority. It went off pretty well and I slept on Sam's couch...  Saturday, as I sat in the living room watching TV and chit chatting with Sam and her roommates, I got a phone call from my mom. 

"We're OOOOOOKAY. Everything is OOOOOKAY. There is NOT a thing to worry about because it's OOOOOOKAY." 
"Dad is getting some tests done at the hospital, but everything is fiiiine."
"Sweet, then uh... why did you calling me if he's ok?" 
"Just letting you know in case you hear it from someone else."
"Sweet. Tell Dad hi. Talk to you later! Loveya, bye!"

About four hours later, my brother calls. 

"Yo, uh Dad's in the hospital."
"I know Mom called."
"Oh, uh sweet, so you know about x,y, and z?" 
"Nope, but thanks for the update, keep me posted!"
"Aight, Loveya Pooter."
"Loveya, bye!"

By now I've ordered some Pizza Movers (which by the way is not as good as Ledos), started my dinner  and preceded with watching bad TV while waiting on Sam to get back from a date with her BF, so that our friend Hannah could come over, and we could all head out to go get a round somewhere. 

I finish dinner. Sam gets home. Hannah comes over. We get dressed and all pile into my car on our way to the Four Ps in Cleveland Park to have a nice simple girls night. 

I'm maybe 5 blocks away from Sam's house when my phone rings. 

Needless to say, everything was not OOOOOKAY. 

Within 12 hours I was back in Texas. Within 48, I was a nervous wreck. 

I can only imagine how my mother must have felt.... it must have been heart wrenching. 

I spent the next 7 days away from my computer, instead focusing on what I could do to make my mom's life a little easier as she dealt with her curmudgeonly patient. Writing on this blog was the least important thing on my mind. 

While everything is not necessarily back to normal, things are looking up and our patient is making a speedy recovery. 

The events of the past 10 days have shown me some great things though... 

One, I have an amazing extended family. 
Two, Someone had an eye out for my father, because had he not gone to the hospital when he did... He would actually not be here today. I know people say that a lot, but in all seriousness... had he waited an hour to get to the hospital... or a day... or proceded with his own busy weekend plans... The likelihood of him not existing in the flesh was astounding.
Three, I still consistently believe that you should let the people in your life know exactly how you feel about them, because while that fight/argument might seem serious today - tomorrow they might not be around for you to apologize. 

So, that's where I've been. 
Just thought I'd let you know and potentially give you a little more information on my life that you might not actually care about. 

Upside though... I feel really, really good about the companionship with ManMe, because not only did he offer assistance from the faraway land of Pennsylvania, he consistently checked in with me to see if I was ok, and ask how Pops was doing. At least I know that he's a good person. 

Friday, February 3, 2012

ManMe, aka, Just Stay Still (Part 2)

Read Part 1 to be caught up to speed! 

I texted ManMe after a really great evening and a not so great morning, which involved not one but THREE pizzas (2 from Ledos), because I wanted to celebrate the New Year properly.

I hadn't intended on texting him. I didn't know if I wanted to delve into the waters of a long distance... something. What would it be? I'm so notorious for trying to figure out what to label things. Not knowing bothers the shit out of me, and I wasn't looking for a relationship - who knows if he was.

And the whole morning/afternoon I had a hard time trying to ask the girls about what I should do, because his close friend was sitting in the living room with us, canoodling with Sam. So I couldn't really bust out and voice my concerns.

However his friend went ahead and voiced ManMe's concerns about how completely off-his-game he had been the night before, whether ManMe wanted him to or not. So I knew to a certain extent that I had been a huge bitch in denying him my number.

But all I could do was sit there and run-through the night repeatedly over and over in my head trying to figure out what was holding me back.

Something finally clicked in me, and I thought, what the hell. The worst that happens is he doesn't text me back. The double worst thing that happens is he doesn't text me back and tells Sam's BF horrible things about me that come back to bite me in the butt later, but he had already texted the BF and told him how off his "game" he had been the night before.

He responded to my text five-minutes later.

What happened next was a four week texting affair that never became too over/underwhelming, but was just the right amount of playful/flirty/funny/charming/intelligent/clever/awesome. He didn't text me every fricking day. He texted me when he had something the say and vice-versa.

I relished in the fact that I had gained a new friend.

He kept me posted on his return to DC for a friend's party, and when he left work to drive down he let me know. I harassed Sam to no end about the plans for the night trying to figure out when I'd get to see him again. I was giddy with excitement, yet anxious because what if all it was... was the alcohol.

And when the time came to interact with him in person again... I froze up.

We got to the house and Sam's BF walked us in, and ManMe came walking over to greet us. He gave Sam and I both a hug...

But, I became Farmer Brown (the lead) in the first grade play all over again, standing on the stage, poised to deliver the first line and desperately digging for something which had completely receded from my mind. As soon as we walked in the door, I stood there like a statue, my common courtesies no where to be found. I forgot to introduce myself to the people I didn't know. I forgot how to smile. I forgot how to talk. I forgot how to breathe.

To be honest, I don't even know if I gave him a hug. All I remember is that the first words that came erupting from my mouth like projectile word vomit were, "When did you get so frickin' tall?"

Not, "Hi."
Not, "How's it going?"
Not, "OMG So good to see you again."

I said, "when did you get so frickin' tall." Because nothing says I was too fucking drunk to remember giant details about you, like forgetting the fact someone towers over you. Literally I'm a head shorter than him... and I didn't remember that.

My jacket became an instant sauna and as soon as I took it off, I realized it wasn't the jacket. Sweat was pouring from any part of me which could have sweat pour.

The next 30/40 minutes were some of the most awkward minutes of my life.

After the pregaming, we bebopped over to the H St. Country Club for a round of drinks, normally this is where I should tell you about how we played a round of mini golf and had a brilliantly awesome time, but this is actually where I begged ItalianaDolce to save me from the awkward, because I think fur had actually started growing in my mouth. Every time I tried to speak the only words that came out were, "l;aksfiaguwn ajf;sits lsak siejnaks"

Nothing coherent was coming from my mouth. I know what it looked like. I know I looked like this crazy aloof drunk ass bitch, who didn't want to talk, but I couldn't phrase anything past, "when did you get so frickin' tall."

Before long the group decided to move, and I had to part from ItalianaDolce and her friend L, and I dreaded the moment of exiting the bar.

But... something changed in the period it took us to move from the Country Club, to the Biergartenhaus...
We walked out of the door, and ManMe swung his arm around my waist.

The adrenaline which had beer soaring through my system not moments before disappeared. Time slowed down, and I could breathe.

We got to the Biergartenhaus, who was out of EVERYTHING.

(Pic Found Here)

Literally they were missing five of their not so extensive list of draft beverages... four of the five were wheat beers, which I so desperately wanted to have dancing on my tongue. The only wheats they had left on the menu were beers so crowded with cloves I could barely stand to have them look at my tongue, much less slip by the tastebuds on the way to my gullet.

ManMe and I got a round lost the rest of the group. We huddled in a corner catching up and laughing our asses off. Time began to pass, and we closed down the top floor of the bar.  I honestly can't tell you what we talked about outside beer and movies, but I do know that I haven't laughed like that with a guy in a really long time.

After getting kicked off the top floor, we reunited with the group on the bottom floor and continued joking and laughing and having a really, really, really great time. There were six of us, and the whole group was just a blast to be around.

Finally, someone looked at their watch, and the boys wanted to grab falafels, so we went over to the falafel place (IDK the name of it. I wasn't really paying attention to anything aside from the hand in mine and the awesome guy attached to it).

They all made me try my first falafel, for which I do not particularly care. I don't really like the spices. They're not my bag of tea.

We headed back to the house we all pregamed at, and I spent the next 8 hours, essentially till sunrise, talking to this guy who I didn't even know existed four weeks ago. He's like this long lost friend that knows you well enough to know you, but still has endless questions for you.

I honestly think that I could have talked to him for another 8 straight hours... and then another... and then another, because we never run out of topics, but even if we did. I feel so comfortable just sitting next to him that I wouldn't care if we weren't talking, because guess what...


There's no unnecessary squirming or wiggling. Just pure unadulterated snuggles. And if you remember the beginning of part one of this post, you'll remember how much I like just staying still. So you can imagine how pleasantly comfortable I found myself in his arms.

So now he has left the district again, and we've resumed our texting.

What is it?
I don't care.
I'm just so happily contented with having a new amazing friend that I really don't care.

(Found Here)

If you care to put two and two together, and you follow me on twitter - check out the photo in between the Call Me Panties and the Naked Giraffe.