Like a Hallmark Card, by Doris

I spent most of this week wearing makeup in a place I usually don't, and it's all the Russian's fault.

You can probably guess what this is about.

I have had very little experience with hickeys. Once in high school, I really did burn my neck with a curling iron, and people teased me about it for DAYS (even, embarrassingly, my guidance counselor). Didn't matter that Excalibur was in college a few hours away at the time, so no one was around to provide me with an authentic hickey. (That same year, there was a rumor I was pregnant--started, ironically enough, by an underclassgirl who got knocked up a couple months later. Karma's a bitch, babe.)

Then, in college, I burned my neck with a curling iron AGAIN. Really. This time it was actually Excalibur's fault--it was a Saturday morning and I'd spent the night at his place. I was a freshman, so we were very new to the whole we-can-actually-spend-the-night thing. He didn't realize that it wasn't cute to hug me from behind while I was fixing my hair with a Burning Hot Rod of Death.

One scream and he learned.

(Incidentally, no one teased me for this fake hickey. I was, after all, a college freshman.)

In the years since, I've dealt with a few love bites: most of the guys I've fooled around with haven't been suck-ily inclined, and Excalibur gave me several, but only in places that could easily be covered.

The Russian? Not so much.

After a long two weeks during which I went on vacation with my family AND got the cold/flu/sinus bug that's rampant right now, the Russian and I were able to coordinate our schedules and meet up for drinks in my neighborhood. Per usual, he started out the date by being really annoying.

Can I just say I HATE when people rip on TV? Seriously. Like anything else, it's fine in moderation, and for every piece o' shit like Jersey Shore (sorry, Rock), you have a well-acted, awesomely written series like Mad Men or Community.

Yes, I do watch Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. Shut up.

However, the Russian has this habit of becoming quirkily charming and self-deprecating juuuust when I'm about to throw in the proverbial towel. It's like he's got Doris Is Annoyed Radar, which takes many people years to develop.

And on drink number two, just when we were trading our best impersonations of Shirley on Community, he leaned over and kissed me.

In the words of NeNe on Real Housewives of Atlanta (yes, I watch that too, shut up):

BAM.

The Russian then expressed a desire to be alone with me. Per his agreement with his wife, who was out of town for the week, he could fool around with me above the waist only, and he couldn't spend the night.

My reaction: "You allergic to cats?"

"Nope!"

"Cool!"

I was actually fine with his wife's edicts. It showed that a) she knew about me, b) they were communicating, which is a big part of an open relationship.

Plus, I was looking at a twelve-hour workday the next day, and I wanted my bed to myself.

So we fooled around. As first semi-sexytimes go, it was pretty awesome. He's very limber.

Also, we compared foot injuries and geeked out about movies. He was very impressed by my DVD collection and asked for recommendations (among the Top Five Ways to Get in Doris' Pants Again).

Plus?

He really liked my cat.

Excalibur hated my cat. Not because of the cat itself, but because Excalibur is allergic. No fault of his own, of course, but it was really nice to be with someone who paid attention to the pussy. Cat.

After I kicked out the Russian ("You have to leave now." "Yes, ma'am!"), I started getting ready for bed.

That's when I discovered The Mother of All Hickeys on the left side of my neck.

Dammit, Russian.

Cue makeup, an elaborate necklace, and a cardigan with a shawl collar the next day.

Though I did tell my coworker, who thought it was hilarious.

In a weird way, I considered it a badge of making-out honor. A tangible mark to commemorate the end of a dry spell.

However, we WILL be having a talk on our next date.

Leaving on a Jet Plane, by Rock

So it should come to no surprise to anyone reading this that I am a narcissist.

Not so much in the "god, I'm beautiful" way (okay, a little), but more in the "it's all about me" way.

And a lot of times, when someone is in a bad mood, I assume I have something to do with it.

I have to realize I'm not that important all of the time.

2.0 had the week of all weeks at work. Issues with a crazy coworker, getting ready for this big conference, it was rough for him. So he was more than a little distant the few times we got to talk. Since we had an at-odds weekend last weekend, I thought it had something to do with me. Either way, between last weekend and the distance during the week, I was really going to use the trip this weekend to evaluate the relationship.

To the point that I almost didn't want to see him last night, like we had had planned for over a week (RHOBH reunion, yo!). I thought that one more "off" night before the trip would be a bad idea.

Luckily, he had already started to relax. Like with a child, I rewarded the positive behavior: "You seem so much more relaxed tonight! I was worried about you the past few days."

As we were falling asleep, I told him (as we often do to each other), "I like you, mister."

He responded, "Haha. I don't know why."

"You told me how January was going to be. I totally get it. But yes, I am looking forward to February."

"Me too."

His busy month came at a really bad time relationship-wise. If it was the first month of dating, we probably would have only seen each other once a week and it would have been fine and normal. A few more months in, and we would have had a more solid foundation. The second month, at least where we were, seemed to be a lot about setting routine, and I'm not going to lie, I got a little scared. There are so many ways that we're a good match, however, that it was worth putting in the time to see how February will go. Judging by last night, it should be great.

I came home to pack and such, then I'll head back to his place with a bottle of champagne in hand (complete with subtextual message of "Your craziness is over for a few days, let's just have fun.") and suitcase rolling behind me. Can't wait!

By the way, everyone ask Doris if she burned her neck with a curling iron. I have no idea why she hasn't posted about that yet!

Annoying Pun with Alcohol Reference, by Rock

Saturday night I am at work and I get a text asking when I will be done: 2.0 and some friends are heading out and he would like me to join him. I tell him I should be done in about an hour. He says his phone is about to die, but I should meet him out. I tell him to give me his friend's number or text me from his friend's phone so I can find him when I get there. He says he will do that, tells me his friend's area code...

... and then I don't hear from him again.

I text him when I get delayed about fifteen minutes, no answer. I text him when I am leaving, no answer. I assume his phone has completely died by now. I don't know why he didn't text me from his friend's phone; not sure if he remembered my number incorrectly or his phone died before he could look at my number or what.

And now I have a dilemma. The bar I'm supposed to meet them at is big. Tons of rooms. There will be tons of guys there. It will be hard to find him. I don't know if he's even still there.

But I don't want him hanging out there waiting for me thinking I just ditched. So I go to this bar, I check my bags and coat, and I do three laps looking for him.

I don't see him. So I leave. I text him that I never heard from him, did three laps anyway and didn't see him. I told him I hoped he was having fun and to get home safely.

When I'm almost home (I live within walking distance of the bar), I get a text that he is at the front bar, then almost immediately "are you still awake?" and "I'll come sleep over." I text that I am almost home, he is welcome to and that I'll see him soon.

When he walks in the door, I express my frustration that I couldn't find me and all he had to do was actually text me from his friend's phone like he said he was going to. I got a small apology and an "I was drunk" as an explanation along with "I must have just forgot." It was not the heartfelt apology that I was looking for. So while I had been using I-statements and keeping my cool, I may have turned on a little bit of the Catholic mom and guilt at this point. I eventually got what sounded like a sincere apology, but I was still upset with the evening as we fell asleep.

The next morning as we started to wake up, I woke up still feeling upset. This is not a like-me trait. So I owned that I was still for some reason a little upset about the night before. He responded, "Oh I know. Just letting you get over it."

Not helpful. I've noticed that when he is in a funk, whether I've caused it or not, he wants to be left alone and get over it. I want a hug and normal conversation and engagement. I think he thought he was giving me what I needed, but it wasn't. And I didn't know how to ask for it.

So I was still upset with the night before and how it was handled. He was upset that I was still upset (I'm imagining, this wasn't explicitly covered). Neither of us were willing to leave it like this and just part ways, so we did what any other gays would do on a Sunday morning.

We brunched.

And it was awkward.

Then we awkwardly watched television and awkwardly tried to nap. Then we went to his place and played some video games. Maybe it was the change in location, but we started to feel like our old selves. And he tried to lend me a book, so it's not like he's thinking of ending it soon.

When I left his apartment, I almost immediately called him and worded my words very carefully.

"I wanted to apologize that I held on to my frustration with last night longer than I needed to. You apologized, it couldn't be fixed, and I should have moved on sooner."

To which he replied, "I really appreciate that."

I started to justify my actions a bit, but I remembered that justifying after the apology negates the apology. So I just cut myself off and said, "It shouldn't have continued through this morning. I wish it didn't."

And he said, "Like I said, I really appreciate that. We can definitely move on from here."

So there you have it. Our first "fight." Here's the thing though. I still take it as a big warning sign. Not so much his mistake. I don't think it's a mistake I would have made drunk, but everyone reacts differently. His flippant apology is what really bothered me, and I wish I explained that more.

I'm also still not sold on the big discussion earlier in the day. I feel like I have a much better view of his baggage, and that suitcase is a lot bigger than I thought it was. Still not sure if it's something I can carry-on, or if he'll have to check it (and if he's willing to do that).

But if I can be comfortable in this grey area, I feel like we do have a better grasp of who we are and what we can give each other, and I don't think he would disagree that we are both in a deep evaluation/wait-and-see phase right now. We won't see each other much this week, if at all, and then we leave on Friday for our trip. Our trip will be a big indicator. Then we won't see each other for another week at least because he's staying where we're going for work then going on another trip.

Waiting to evaluate a relationship until after a trip, after which he's leaving for another trip.

Deja

vu.

I've felt for a while that he's been evaluating me and it's made me self-conscious. Now that I've gotten over my optimistic, over-excited ass and realized that I still don't know him completely (should be a duh, but I needed reminded), I'm much more comfortable in the grey area and getting to know him. We both made a few mistakes this past weekend, and we'll look back at this weekend either as the start of a deeper, more substantial relationship or the beginning of the end. We shall see. I'll be fine either way. Honestly.

What do you think? Did I go overboard with the bar issue? Should I have pressed on for a bigger apology? Would you be cutting your losses or still pushing through? Isn't Adele's 21 the most amazing thing you've ever heard?

What Is Happening to Me?, by Doris

Before we get into that, here's an update on Straight Anthony Rapp: we'll be going out for a second time next Saturday afternoon (I have dance class early and plans with friends in the evening--it's literally all the time I can give). I don't think there'll be a third date, but you never know.

I consider myself pretty cynical. Not all of it has to do with boys--in fact, I first learned the meaning of the word in sixth grade, when someone said I was cynical, and this was way B.G. (Before Guys).

So why the HELL, when the Russian sent me a random text Friday night, did I start sparking like the Fourth of July?

*blush*

*giggle*

*ughIamjustlikeeveryoneelseandIhateit*

What's in a word?, by Rock

This morning we were lying in bed, when I conversationally mentioned that my mom was trying really hard to find a way to meet him but I told her it wouldn't work when she was trying. He laughed and said that he wasn't ready to meet parents anyway. I told him that I had a different relationship with my parents than he did, and it wasn't really a big deal.

But then I kind of bristled. I brought up the comment he made. I brought up the fact that Facebook said he was single (though apparently he changed that a few days ago and I didn't notice). I brought up that he avoided the word "boyfriend" like the plague at all times. I said that I felt he thought we were moving too quickly.

He admitted that yes, he was worried, and yes, the "boyfriend" word came too quickly, that he still wasn't ready for it. I called him out on me giving him quite a few chances to get out of that (yes, that conversation happened drunk, but the next morning I gave him an out and I also brought up a few days later that I thought he wasn't okay with it). We got on the same page eventually. I'm not moving as quickly as he thought I was. He's moving as slowly as I thought he was and not as quickly as he said he was. He admitted his faults in the matter. I admitted my insecurities in the matter. We acknowledged that it had been a stressful week for him with work and I got to deal with that. We acknowledged that we both have different expectations, but in the end want the same thing.

It was horribly stressful. It was all calm and a discussion, but it was a lot. We agreed we were both very happy with where we were in the moment. We fooled around (finally), went for breakfast, went shopping, and had a few drinks before I went to work. By the end of the day, everything was good again. We agreed it actually felt better since we were on the same page.

Hopefully now, we can finally move forward and see what happens.

Pajama Pants and Television, by Rock

On Tuesday he came over, I cooked dinner, we watched a movie, we fell asleep.

Oh Thursday I helped him run an errand, we picked up a frozen pizza and went back to his place, we watched TV, and fell asleep.

He told me January was going to be bad. He apologized over and over for how busy and tired he was going to be.

I'm trying to realize it means a lot that he even wants to share his necessary, quiet "alone" time. And by trying, I mean I do. And I do like quiet nights at home cooking dinner and relaxing. I just also like the occasional adventure and miss that excitement of a "date" instead of just "hanging out." And I like having sex.

The good thing is, I know we are on the same page. He warned me that January would be rough and he's continued the apologies. He keeps talking about how excited he is for the month to be over and our trip at the end of the month.

I asked him to help me go suit shopping on Saturday. He suggested I just spend the night tonight after work. I said that would be great, we could sleep in and then head over to the store. He added, "And have sexy times. It's been too long."

I just laughed and said, "Yup. I mean, I understand and get it and it's fine, but yup." And we laughed together and cuddled closer and fell asleep.

Texts From an (Evil) Ex, by Doris

On Tuesday night, in the midst of texting with my Russian, I receive another message:

"Haven't talked to you in a while. What's up?"

Ex-calibur strikes a-fucking-gain.

Since early November, when I found out from other sources he has a serious girlfriend--this is after I hadn't heard from him in two months and I figured he had a relationship goin' on--Ex-calibur has texted me once before. Right after Thanksgiving, ostensibly to see how my Thanksgiving was.

And now he wants to know "What's up?"

UGH.

Back in November, I texted my Thanksgiving was great and I hoped his went well too. This was after a frantic text to Rock, wondering if I should even respond to this inanity. Rock said yes, because if I ignored the text, it would look like I was mad at him and therefore a bitch. As usual, Rock was right. So I texted Ex-calibur back, he said, "good to know" and that was that.

Back to Tuesday night.

I told him I was fine and went back to texting the Russian.

But Ex-calibur wasn't finished. He wanted to know how work was. Then, how I was doing outside of work.

Seriously?

I texted back polite but short answers, then ended the last text with, "Hope you are well. Have a good night!" At this point, I didn't care about being rude. I just wanted to get off the damn phone (or text?).

He responded, "Good night," so I guess he got the message.

Now, before you write me off as a total bitter bitch who doesn't want to be friends with her ex, please hear me out:

As I said in an early post, Ex-calibur did nothing wrong by getting a girlfriend. We were not in an exclusive relationship, and when I didn't hear from him in a while, I assumed that's what was going on. I wish him well, I really do.

That said, I have no interest in being friends right now.

I'm not saying I want him out of my life permanently. We have a shared history. It might indeed be nice to catch up sometime.

However, he has been in my life one way or the other, FOR FOURTEEN YEARS. I am 30. You do the math.

If this makes me an un-hip chick, so be it, but I need not to talk to Ex-calibur for a while. I need to live my life, date other dudes, acknowledge that he is a part of my past and my past informs my future and I can learn from him and all that, all while not speaking to him. Maybe someday we and our respective significant others can have dinner together and laugh. Maybe Ex-calibur and I can get a sense of closure as Rock did with Evil Ex #5 shortly before he moved.

I need at least six months before I make that decision.

And here's the other thing:

I don't think Ex-calibur texted me just to catch up.

He doesn't do that. Fourteen years with the man taught me that he uses shooting the shit as a warmup for dropping a big ole bomb.

I could have told him to stop beating around the bush and asked what's up.

But quite frankly, I was sick of his coyness and didn't feel like coaxing it out of him.

Maybe he and his girlfriend broke up. Maybe she's knocked up. Maybe they've shacked up. Honestly, a little Facebook investigation could probably provide me with answers.

But what's the point? What's happened has happened.

And obviously, he was too big of a wuss to tell me. Which is his problem and not mine.

Is it so bad if I don't want to know? Not that I'm super-jealous or sad or whatever. But he doesn't owe me an explanation. He's living his life, I'm living mine. If I hear the news from other people, I'll deal.

Complicated, I know.

If he texts me again, he's getting a very polite email saying I wish him well and perhaps we can be friends someday, but please do not contact me again for six months.

A cool girl would be hunky-dory, be there for him, try to coax the news out of him and be a fucking cheerleader.

I ain't a cool girl.

I'm Alive!, by Doris

Thanks to Rock for holding down the fort in my absence. As he stated in his last post, I was on a super-awesome vacation with my fam. I'm at the point in my life where for the most part I get along really well with my parents because, well, we're all adults and they're not trying to tell me what to do anymore. My sibs and I have always been really close. So a good time was had by all.

Mostly.

The bad news is, I was sick for the entire vacation. What I thought was a head cold only got progressively worse as the trip went on, resulted in a doctor's appointment the day after I got back, and still hasn't gone away (though now I have antibiotics and a get out of work free pass, thanks Doc!).

The good news is as follows:
1) Though I didn't stay out as late as my night-owl self would have normally, and I only got drunk once, on the last night of the trip, I managed to pull it together and have a ton of fun. (This also eliminated any chances of making out, because I'm not that mean.)

2) Said drunk last night of the trip was partly due to TWO MEN BUYING ME A DRINK! As in, the cocktail waitress came over and said, "the gentlemen on the right want to know if you'd like anything else." I stared at her openmouthed for about ten seconds before blurting my cocktail of choice. Not to sound naive, but I'm 30 years old and this is the first time anyone's ever wanted to send me a drink. WOOHOO!

I talked to the dudes and they were two very nice non-sleazy guys from Ohio. Coincidentally, my last crush who's now a good friend also hails from the Buckeye State. You go Ohio!

3) Through my coughing and snotty haze, I texted the Russian, who wants to see me again. We're in the midst of scheduling as he most likely has to check with his wife.

4) Straight Anthony Rapp of the annoying voice wants to go out again too! Eh, what the hell? If I'm still turned off after this one, I'm done, but a second date never hurt anyone.

5) While prostrate on the couch last night, I popped in Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, which I received for Christmas. Though it gets a little long toward the end, I was reminded of how much I like the overall concept. You see, even I have more than one evil ex if we're going by Ramona Flowers standards. (Mine are all boys, FYI.)

And it's funny Rock was just talking about evil exes.

Why is that funny?

Stay tuned . . .

He has an evil ex as well, by Rock

First of all, Doris is on vacation with her family. She is alive and well, she drunk dialed me at 4:30a last night, but that explains her lack of updates. Hopefully she has found at least one guy to stick her tongue down while out on the town with her sister.

This weekend was an interesting one for me. If I was not at work, I was with 2.0. A lot of it was sleeping. I also did an IKEA run with him since I have a car and he doesn't. We had a fun date night. It's all been really good. It's definitely transitioned from "dating" to a "relationship." It's implicit that we want to see each other when we can, and when I'm surprised that after the IKEA trip he wants to buy me lunch and then even more surprised when he wants to take a nap with me before I go to work, maybe I shouldn't be anymore. Maybe I should give him the gift of respecting his feelings for me.

For a hot second I was trying to push a little too much affection. A lot of his stories about boys in the past end with "and then I decided we would work better as friends." I decided to get all nervous that we were headed in that direction, but then I calmed the fuck down. If that happens, it'll happen. It'll have nothing to do with the fact that it's happened before. I've made that realization with plenty of guys before as well. I realized how nice it feels to have fallen in this relationship zone and it feels good. That's enough comfort.

Last night I was at work and he texted me to ask when I would be done. I immediately knew that something was wrong. I thought it was awesome that I knew it wasn't about me or "us" at all, but something external. I said I was at work for a while, but asked if everything was okay. He said that it was, and we said our good nights.

We talked today to catch up and he brought up what was going on. Apparently an ex and his ex's mother are going to be in town and his ex wants the three of them to have dinner. This is his big one, the one that broke his heart and got away. His equivalent of EE#5, except his might have been a bigger douchebag about it. Anyway, he wanted to make sure it was okay and kind of talk it out. He wasn't even sure he wanted to see him. His ex knew about me of course. They had a buffer since his ex's mom was going to be there...

I am happy to report that I handled this like an AMAZING boyfriend. I told him I was fully supportive of whatever was best for him. I talked about the closure I felt after a lunch with EE#5. I told him of course trust wasn't even an issue and I knew he was happy with me. I made it sound like not a big deal at all (which it really isn't), as far as I was concerned, that he should do what was best for him: he was under no obligation to have dinner if he didn't want to, but if he thought it would be beneficial for him, then he should definitely do it.

The fact that he was even "asking" permission showed me that there were some residual feelings (He's friends with a few other exes, and has never asked permission to hang out with them. He's just seeing his friend. I'm never worried.). There's no way of asking if these feelings are of love or anger. I'm sure it's a combination of both. He admitted that if he goes (which it looks like he will), that it'll be because he's looking for closure. Which I hope he gets.

I'll be a little nervous on Wednesday, but it'll be for him, not for us. We're solid.

I'm sandwiching his Wednesday night with his Evil Ex with Tuesday and Thursday plans with me. Remind him how great he's got it now. Sometimes passive aggressiveness can be used for good!

But in all seriousness, it's almost nice to see him a little shaky about something. It reminds me that he's human, and it makes him all the more endearing.

I Chillaxed, by Rock

A shot of vodka and a hit of weed and I feel much better.

He likes me, I like him. We're still figuring each other out. I have to be okay with that "grey area."

These are still issues that will need to be dealt with, but I'm ready for tonight.

Real Thing vs. Best Thing

After a delightful date on Tuesday (he made me pizza with homemade dough and my favorite toppings, then we listened to music and played Scrabble), I haven't gotten a chance to talk to 2.0 other than texts and emails since. I miss the sound of the voice. I need it. I can hear that everything is okay and wonderful in the subtext and I don't get insecure. But I'm in a little bit of a mood right now, and as is on his way (we're supposed to get naked and get down (sorry for the TMI), then go to dinner and a concert at a coffee shop. It sounds perfect, but whether it's my insecurities, my fear that he's illogically decided things are working out in the past 48 hours, or just that I'm tired, I'm not in the mood, I'm not ready for him to come over.

And I'm so damn self-aware that I can't just be in a bad mood when he gets here. I don't want to be unattractive, so I'll put on a show. But what's more unattractive, insincerity or a little bit of grumpiness?

I want to be cheered up, but I don't want to know that I want to be cheered up.

Part of the issue is the planned sex (see, I brought it up for a reason). I like it to happen naturally. If I'm not in the mood, I'm not going to want to go there. I want him to get me there, but first I have to cheer up and wake up.

I'm really afraid I'm going to fuck this all up. I know what kind of person I want to be, I'm good at presenting that person at the beginning of a new relationship, and then the cracks begin to show.

God forbid someone love me despite these flaws. I don't know if that's something I'm interested in. I want someone to expect as much from me as I expect from myself.

I'm kind of just waiting for him to tell me he's not into me anymore. And I'm realizing how many issues I have from EE#5 that I haven't really had to deal with before (I wasn't that invested in EE#6). And I'm realizing that these issues could be the catalyst to the end so I should just get over it.

The funny thing is, I'm not 100% sold on him yet. He's shown a few cracks as well. Just a few. But I'm a lot more forgiving of him than I am of myself.

Kiss On My List, by Doris

I am about to jump out of my skin.

Why hasn't the Russian tried anything yet????

We went out again Monday night. Vietnamese food, lovely local place not far from our first date. I was late due to GoogleMaps' NOT taking into account that a certain bus en route would put me in a shitty neighborhood. (Apparently there's not an app for that.) When I texted him, he said he'd order us an appetizer and asked if I had any food restrictions/preferences. (See, Rivers-a-like? THAT'S how you do it!)

Once I arrived, the back-and-forth began.

I may have alluded to this in my last Russian-related post: the guy is kinda pretentious. I mean, who says, "I've led a pretty interesting life" with no irony whatsoever? Also, he's a huge tea snob. I find this kind of hilarious.

But here's what I'm discovering, or maybe just putting into words what I knew all along:

I like arrogant guys.

First, the word "arrogant" has been used to describe me more than once. (I'd argue that a confident woman is more likely to have a negative word pinned on her than a confident man, but that's a whole 'nother post and Rock is totally rolling his eyes as he reads this.) Therefore, it's one more thing we have in common!

Second, there ARE arrogant dumb guys in the world. However, many of the arrogant dudes I've interfaced with have at least a modicum of intelligence and life experience. And really, I have no patience for dumb guys, no matter how cute (Ryan Gosling in Blue Valentine, I'm looking at you). I'd rather date someone who errs on the side of smart, because at least then we can have a conversation.

Finally, I like arrogant guys because I love, love, LOVE taking them down a peg.

Which I did with the Russian. Many times. Hey, it's a fun time for me and a test all rolled into one smart-assed package. If a man doesn't like to be challenged, that's a deal-breaker, ladies.

Fortunately for him, the Russian kept up. In fact, I was just about to give up on him (well, maybe, he IS awfully cute), when the conversation came around to Joel McHale.

"Do you know him?" I asked the Russian.

And the Russian turned to me and uttered in the most serious voice I've ever heard out of him:

"Community is my favorite show ever."

Sold.

Granted, there's more to my attraction than a mutual love for one of the best TV shows of all time. (Not to mention, as we discovered, a mutual love for Italian mob movies.) The conversation's awesome. I'm attracted as hell. And there's no way this can go long-term. Check, check and check.

Which is why I was really disappointed when all I got was a hug.

As Rock told me later when we met up for drinks, it's possible the Russian just goes really slowly. Also, we haven't been alone yet, and I've never EVER been one for PDA's. Even hand-holding. ESPECIALLY hand-holding. For some reason it's just always bugged me.

And the Russian wants to see me again. I'm going out of town for several days, so the onus is on me to contact him when I return, but . . . yeah. He wants to see me again.

It doesn't help that I'm a 30-year-old woman and therefore operating on hot-to-trot mode at all times.

Rock says next time I can have him over to my place. When it comes to dates, three is often the magic number. Right?

I mean, even a makeout or an errant tongue would be nice at this point.

It's All Good, by Doris

Image via Zeitgeist World

Recently, a reader complained to me about our blog's tagline: "a girl, her gay, and six months of online dating."

The complaint addressed the fact that no human being owns anyone else, so I most definitely do not own Rock, and therefore he is not "my gay."

Valid logic.

I will say that I've always hated the whole "gay boyfriend" trend, because I feel it's genuine friendships relegated to some kind of fashion accessory for a neurotic woman who can't get any. For this reason, I was never a fan of Will and Grace. Also, that new show Girls Who Like Boys Who Like Boys just looks insulting to me. Especially when the chick whines in the preview, "you're marrying another guy? It should be meeeeee!"

No.

Were I ever to get married, qualification #1 for my husband is WANTING TO HAVE SEX WITH ME.

For the record, Rock is my best friend. He's been my best friend since two years before he came out of the closet. He's my best friend because we share many passions and values, we have a similar worldview, and most importantly, we have a hell of a lot of fun together.

This is why all my friends are, in fact, my friends. Gay, straight, bi, whatever. I don't regard anyone as my accessory, and while I may be neurotic, that's neither here nor there.

(Plus, I can and do get some.)

Most of all, lovely readers--and we appreciate all of you, we just wish you'd comment more!--I want to assure you that our apparently controversial tagline?

Was the brainchild of none other than the "gay" in question.

Yup, it was Rock's idea.

A Lesson in Passive Aggressiveness, by Rock

2.0 was possibly going to visit me at work tonight. He didn't (which wasn't a big deal at all), and when he told me he wasn't via text, he said he would text me good night.

He didn't text me, and I got off after I was almost certain he was asleep.

So what did I do? I called him. He answered the phone very groggily.

"Hello?"

"Oh babe, did I wake you up?"

"Yeah..."

"Sorry! You said you would text good night and you hadn't yet, so I thought you were still awake and I could say good night."

"Oh sorry... I fell asleep a lot sooner than I thought I was going to. Did you have a good night?"

"Yeah but go to back to sleep. We'll talk tomorrow."

"Okay. Good night, babe."

"Good night. Sleep well."

Here's the thing. I don't expect a good night text every night or a good morning text every morning. That's psycho. But if you tell me you're going to do something, I expect you to do it. If you forget or something, I probably won't start an argument, but I will purposely wake you up "by accident" to prove a point.

I refuse to be the next person to make contact, but other than that, I won't bring it up again. It's not a big deal. I've made my point.

What is very funny is last night I promised to call when I woke up and then I slept in this morning... until he woke me up with a phone call. It wasn't explicitly stated, but I'm pretty sure he thought I forgot to call. So in the same day he did what he incorrectly thought I did.

I'm really good at being passive aggressive, and I own it.

Rock a few years ago? I would have started a conversation about all of this. Now I can just make my point and still sound sane and normal and caring.

Keyword: sound.

Monthiversary, by Rock

Forgive me, Doris, and the three others that read our blog. I haven't really needed to update for a while because life happened the way it happens and I didn't get to see 2.0 for 4 whole days. He had a cold, I have a job with weird hours, it had been a bit. We joked about how we had both had a feeling of "this is way too long!" before realizing that we were being about as stupid as you could get. We both gave each other the official press release of "Life happens, I will see you when I see you, and you don't have to worry about me getting needy." Which was good. Absence makes the heart grown fonder, right?

I had suggested that we see a revival of a play that I love so so so much that was getting rave reviews (how I would love to bring up the play, because it would be interesting to talk about, but I don't want to give away our city). He had never seen it, wasn't familiar with it at all, so I told him to refrain from googling it, bought tickets, and we met up on Thursday night.

I was a bit worried at first, he wouldn't quite make eye contact and it just felt distant, until he admitted that work had been super busy and he was not letting go as easily as he would have liked. By the first intermission, everything was back to business as usual. In fact, there was an extra little spark there since we hadn't seen each other every other day like we had been doing.

When we got back to my place, I called him out on the fact that we had both had taken a step back and really evaluated things, even at the expense of intimacy, after we had the DTR (define the relationship talk) and had sex for the first time. He agreed. We talked about how it was necessary for both of us, and we were glad we both passed.

I had a little present for him. He loves Oprah (Every gay man has their cliche. For example, I like musicals. He likes Oprah and female vocalists.), and I had stumbled across an Oprah pen. Also, he had never tried coconut M&Ms, which is unacceptable so I bought him a pack.

Then I made him a mix CD. It was a somewhat romantic mix CD. I realized the possible freak-out potential and I did it anyway. It was like word vomit, except much more calculated as I actually sat down and made him a CD and loaded it with romantic songs.

The second he pulled out the CD (which I had titled "If We Are Acting Like 14-Year-Olds, I Have to Make You a Mix"), I issued the disclaimer that it was a romantic mix, but clearly we weren't at the level that most of these people were singing about. If he could not read into it and get freaked out, that would be great.

The next morning I made him coffee and sent him off to work. We were texting each other about Beverly Hills Housewives and how he was going to listen to the CD and write with his Oprah pen all day.

The CD started off (naturally) with Jenna from 30 Rock singing "Muffin Top." He sent a text that he loved the CD already from the first song.

And then I didn't hear about it again. Three possible occurances (That's a word, right? Spell check is telling me otherwise.):

1- He read into it.

2- We don't necessarily see eye-to-eye on music.

3- He got really busy at work.

Old Rock would have had an anxiety attack. New Rock relaxed and resisted looking crazy.

He worked all day, I worked all night, but the plan was for me to go over to his place and climb into bed with him after work, so we could wake up together and stupidly celebrate our "monthiversary."

(Tangent: You can't celebrate a 1 month anniversary or a 6 month anniversary. Anni- means year.)

When I had brought up spending the day together, I acknowledged the silliness of it, but the fact of the matter was, most guys didn't make it that far with me. He said that most guys didn't make it that far with him either, which I knew, but I thought it would be presumptuous to point it out.

So I did indeed climb into bed with him, we did indeed wake up in the morning to watch Beverly Hills Housewives (see above conversation about cliches), drink coffee, have sex, go get brunch and Bloody Marys (see above conversation about cliches), watch Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, play Mario for the Wii, and play cards.

I asked if he liked the mix CD, he said he did, but didn't offer anything more. But as we listened to his iTunes on shuffle later, I realized that while we both don't necessarily mind the same kinds of music, our favorites don't necessarily line up. For example, next month we are seeing a Josh Ritter concert (my treat) and a Robyn concert (his). We are both good sports, we'll both have a good time, but yeah. So I made the dorky mix, and the gesture was appreciated even if the music wasn't. I'm okay with that.

It was awesome. He was even more snuggly and romantic than usual.

I left for work, he started to get ready to have dinner with a friend, and I eventually got a text that he and his friend were waiting for me at a bar near my place. I told him that I wouldn't be leaving work for at least another hour, but I'd try (it was already late). An hour turned into two and they left. I felt a little badly at first, but it was his call to try and wait, not mine. I could sympathize without blaming myself. He suggested I come over and spend the night again, but in all honesty, I was tired and just wanted my own bed and needed to be productive this morning. Which was all good.

This lack of drama has to be ridiculously boring! I'm sorry! Stay tuned: we have to fight eventually, right?

Second Chance/First Impression: A Date, by Doris

Am I too picky?

Three dates into this little six-month experiment and I'm already asking this question. After all, my first impressions of others haven't always been favorable. I remember seeing Excalibur walking into play practice late and thinking he was a slacker. Rock first struck me as a dork who liked Survivor. The night I met my roommate Stan, who's become one of my closest friends, I'd just received some fairly devastating news, so I was very distracted and I can't even tell you what I thought.

Thankfully, I gave all of the above dudes a second chance and got some great relationships out of it.

And I'm wondering if I should extend the same courtesy to last night's date, Straight Anthony Rapp.

Like the Russian, I first connected with SAR about a month ago. I liked his profile on OKC and his pictures made him look like, well, a straighter version of Anthony Rapp, who I've always found really adorable. We started sending long emails and clicked right away on so many things: food, movies, growing up in roughly the same geographic area. We didn't meet before now for various reasons: not just the standard holiday busy-ness, but the fact that he is in grad school and had finals.

Finally, we found a night that worked for both of us and decided to go out for tea. (Fun fact: two of the three OKC guys I have dated are all into tea. Not sure what that says about them, me, or OKC. But whatever. I like tea too.)

Now, it's important to note that SAR gave me his phone number about a week ago. Though I texted him--and he texted back in complete sentences, earning him MANY points--I never actually called, for a couple reasons. One, this was a busy week for me and I didn't want to call too late, because with a new person you don't really know their schedule.

And two, I don't really like to talk on the phone. I call my parents once a week, as has been our tradition since I started college. When Rock moved away for three years, we talked practically every day. But in both these cases, I have established relationships and am using the phone to keep in touch. My friends in the city, people I don't know so well, I'm more of a Facebook/email/texting kinda gal.

So when I got a call from SAR, saying he'd arrived a few minutes early at our designated meeting point, is where my issues began.

You see, he has a weird voice.

I have a thing about accents. Like any red-blooded American girl, I really dig many accents and think they're sexy. However, certain accents turn me off. There's a reason: a certain authority figure in my life had a really heavy accent from a certain region. Anything that remotely sounds like this individual automatically stresses me out. It's like Pavlov's dog minus the drooling and plus high blood pressure and hives.

Does this make me racist? I hope not.

SAR's voice...I can't quite place it. He's lived abroad extensively, so I think it might be a muddle of different Euro dialects. He's also in grad school, and sorry to generalize, but sometimes grad students talk differently. They're so in their heads that their verbalization isn't like the average bear's. (And keep in mind, I have been a grad student, so I know of which I speak.)

Having been a performer, and having spent part of my childhood around radio people, I have a thing about voices. My last crush--who became a good pal--has a lovely basso profundo. When I was a temp and answering phones at a lush downtown corporate office, I was offered a job on the spot with another lush downtown corporate office, on the sole basis of my "Company X, how may I help you?" I'm not kidding.

So I'm not sure I can get past the voice.

And part of me wants to. SAR is adorable. He's traveled a lot but isn't pretentious about it (o hai, Russian). He's a city boy but "was raised to be a mountain man," meaning he can do carpentry and paint. He's in grad school, and I admire anyone who chooses to further their education.

And he can cook! I've always wanted to date someone who can cook.

One of the things I'm really liking about OKCupid, and online dating in general I guess, is that it practically guarantees good conversation, because you already know what your date is into. Even when I'm not feeling much chemistry, we can chat about movies, bands, books, et cetera. And I love to talk.

This date was no exception. The only thing that flowed better than our words was the green tea through my very small bladder.

Oh, and soon after we parted ways, I received a very nice text from SAR.

So do I give him another chance or not?

Here's the solution I've come to: if he asks me out again, I'm down. If not, I'm not pursuing it.

Am I doing the right thing here? Should I give him a second chance to make a first impression?

Or am I being too picky?

Open to Interpretation: A Date, by Doris

When my date walked into the coffee shop, he was wearing a wedding ring.

And I wasn't surprised in the least.

Let's call this guy the Russian, because despite all the hate over the second movie I still love Sex and the City, and because, well, he's Russian. I connected with the Russian way back when I first joined OKCupid (has it been a month already? Jeez). He's two years younger than I, has a myriad of interesting jobs, including a gig as a health care interpreter at a children's hospital, and like me, he always carries a notebook.

And he's in an open marriage.

Now before you say, "Doris, this is the biggest line of bullshit since Brody told Lauren that Brittany Canada Whore was just a joke," hear me out.

You should know that Dan Savage is my relationship/sex advice guru, and he should be yours too. What I've learned from my addiction to the Savage Love podcast is that, indeed, open relationships are more common in the straight community than one might think. Only because there's a societal taboo against non-monogamy, heteros don't talk about them as much as homos do. Case in point: when I told Rock and my roommate Stan (who is also gay) about the Russian's situation, they shrugged it off. However, I KNOW at least two or three of my straight friends would definitely not approve. Also my parents.

What Dan tells America is that if you date someone in an open relationship, you can tell they're for real if they talk about it. They'll not only answer your questions, they'll welcome them, because it's a necessary conversation. If, on the other hand, they don't want to talk about it, are very vague, or say "my wife doesn't know about it," well, that's not a real open relationship.

The Russian's profile mentions his situation first thing. It links to a Dan Savage video about non-monogamy. It also links to his wife's profile. She seems pretty cool.

And mind you, I didn't first contact the Russian because of the open marriage. Yes, I found it intriguing, especially since I'm trying for new experiences right now. However, it was just another interesting characteristic, like the notebook thing.

So the Russian and I talked for a few weeks. He asked me to coffee. And we talked. Boy, did we talk.

I usually don't bring this up at first, but I told him about Excalibur. Not any gory details, just that I'd been with the same guy on and off for fourteen years, and I'm 30, so you do the math. Which is why I'm seeking different types of dating and relationships. It fit right into the conversation, and the questions I had regarding his own marriage.

Did I mention he's really, really cute? Oh yeah.

So we drank our tea, we took a walk, and then I left because I had "plans with my friends." He asked me out again. I was very happy about this.

This was Thursday night. It's now Saturday and I've heard zilch.

Not sure if I should write this off yet or not. I mean, do guys really ask out someone again just to be nice? And this wasn't just "we should hang out again." This was, specifically, "when are you free?" Of course, he has to check with his wife and see what they've got going on. My question is: how long's it take to check?

Maybe he was bullshitting me all along. Maybe he made this whole thing up. I mean, I've seen Catfish. It's crazy what people lie about online. It's also possible that his wife has decided against the whole open relationship thing.

Or it's possible that, to quote Sex and the City again, he's just not that into me. (No matter what you think about SATC or the franchise that ensued from that one line, you have to admit it's a pretty great concept.)

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed. Yes, he was kind of pretentious, but I'd rather date a pretentious guy than a dumb guy because at least with the former I can have a conversation. And the open marriage thing, quite frankly, appealed to me. Not just for the curiosity factor, but the fact is, I don't want to get emotionally involved with anyone right now. Here, I could have a fun experience but it would be physically impossible to get serious (that's one of the ground rules of the Russian's marriage: as of now, they're not pursuing anyone seriously. It's kind of a baby step into full-on polyamory).

And yeah, he was really, really cute and I have a sex drive. Sue me.

Whatever. We'll see. If nothing else, it was a really fun and educational first date! Definitely cooler than the practice dud that was Rivers-a-like.

And besides, I have another date in four hours.

P.S. Does anyone miss Rock's savvy commentary on Tales from the Going Steady Frontline? I do! Rock, my darling, where are you?

How Did This Happen?, by Doris

I went from being a total zero with the menfolk, to having two dates in three days, with two different guys. How did this happen?

Oh, right. I joined OKCupid.

Unlike with the practice date, I'm kind of excited about both guys. They're very appealing, in different ways. They're also both younger than I, one by two years and one by five. I keep telling myself it's not age, it's place in life. Which has been very true in my experience: Rock is almost five years younger and one of the most together people I know, whereas Ex-calibur is a year older and could be the biggest baby alive.

I thought I'd blown it yesterday with the 25-year-old. He gave me his phone number, but I'm not great at talking on the phone. The only person I did it with on a regular basis was Rock while he was away. Also, I call my parents every week. But other than that, I'm a texting and Facebook kinda gal (which Dr. Douchebag totally made fun of me for. Good riddance, asshole).

So I texted this guy on my lunch break just to say hi. He said hi back, but it kind of petered out. Of course I freaked out about that a little and blamed myself--I should have had a conversation in mind or initiated things a little more, but instead I got distracted and started working on some writing. If I wanted a conversation, I should have made time for one.

Yet today he asked me out. So I guess I didn't screw up too bad.

Why do I always stress out so much and then it turns out okay? Ugh.

But on the plus side, yay! I have two dates!

What I Want, You Got (Hopefully), by Doris

The other night, a commenter on one of my favorite websites, Jezebel, recommended that those looking for love do the following: write down exactly what they want in a partner, being as specific as possible, to put it out in the universe.

(Because Jez sometimes reads my mind, they posted this a couple days ago. The comments are a lot of fun.)

As this is the New Year and I'm looking to change my dating habits (hell, ESTABLISH some dating habits), I thought I'd take this advice.

So without further ado, UNIVERSE, here is what Doris is looking for in a dude:

1. Relatively my age, or an over/under of about five years.
2. Someone I want to have sex with, like all the time. Even if I don't act on it, I want to want to.
3. Someone who wants to have sex with me, like all the time. Even if he doesn't act on it, he wants to.
4. Passionate about something. Music, acting, writing, tattoo artistry, I don't care. It doesn't have to be his livelihood, but it has to be an aspect of his life that makes him clutch his heart he loves it so. As long as said passion is not illegal, racist, perverse or Republican, I'm down. Notice I didn't exclude sports. I personally don't get team fanaticism, but I thought Fever Pitch was a really cute movie.
5. Wants to be healthy and live a long, balanced life. (My dad's side of the family is largely very UNhealthy, so this is a priority for me.)
6. With that in mind, enjoys good food, good alcohol, and a good night of camping in front of the TV. This is where balance comes in.
7. Knows how to cook, and cooks.
8. Ambitious, but with good intentions.
9. Has an interesting job that contributes something positive to the world.
10. Reads. Classics, sci fi, graphic novels, magazines, I don't care. Bonus if he has reading material in the bathroom.
11. Likes to talk, but also likes to listen. Is gifted at both.
12. Has a cool group of friends I get along with. Bonus points if some of the friends are gay.
13. Speaking of, MUST MUST MUST be accepting of others, no matter what color, creed or sexual orientation. Rock is my very best friend. Rock is not going anywhere.
14. Gets along with my friends. Doesn't have to be super buddy buddy with them, but acknowledges and respects their very prominent place in my life.
15. Is content to meet and get to know people. Isn't rushing to acquire the marriage/children/dog/white picket fence combo. There's nothing wrong with that, it's just not for me.
16. Most importantly, realizes I have a life of my own, one that I love and cherish, one that I had way before I met him. Knows he has an important place in this life, but he alone does not make up this life. In other words, respects my identity as an independent woman.

Basically, UNIVERSE, I want Cal Morrisey from Jennifer Crusie's pitch-perfectly fabulous romantic comedy novel Bet Me. Have you read that, UNIVERSE? You should right now. Cal is phenomenal. He fights dyslexia every day as a successful business owner. He has a fantastic group of friends, gay and straight. He dotes on his eight-year-old nephew, but doesn't want kids of his own. He's witty but not pompous. He can cook. He's handsome. He has his faults but by the end of the novel is self-aware and humble. He likes a lady with curves. He likes sex and eating food with said lady.

In short, Cal ROCKS.

UNIVERSE, I want a dude just like him. Ya listening?

Do you have a checklist? Any dealbreakers? Leave a comment!

Stubbed my Tow, by Rock

Because I had to work on New Year's Eve, 2.0 and I spent the evening together on the 30th. Just pizza and classic Mario on the Wii and the like at his place. We got to sleep in and I was going to give him a ride to meet his friend for lunch on my way to change for work.

My car was no where to be found. It had been towed. I had read a sign incorrectly, and now my car was in an impound lot on the bad side of town about a thirty minute car ride away. I got super stressed. I had just a-caused myself to lose a lot of money=, b-he was seeing me be stupid, c-I was making him late for lunch and possibly me late for work.

I calmed down to some degree as we formulated a plan. He offered to go with me to get the car right then, but I would have been super late for lunch. We grabbed a cab, with plans to take advantage of his car sharing program and pick up my car the following night.

In the cab he got on facebook on his phone and it kind of bothered me. I understood answering a text or even a facebook notification, and I realized that eventually we'd get to this level of comfortability and familiarity, but it bothered me that it happened now. And I noticed that the text he sent his friend he was meeting for lunch said "the guy I'm dating got his car towed" instead of "Rob" or "the boyfriend." This distinction hurt after I was wondering all day if I brought up this issue too soon. Also, when we pulled up to our stop, he asked me, "you got this?" Now never mind that I had my wallet out ready to pay and it was entirely my fault we had to take a cab (which I told him when I did, in fact, pay). As teenage girly as this is, I was going to have to spend $170 to get my car out of impound and another $40 for the car-sharing service to get there. It would have been the nicest $20 gesture ever for him to insist. Or so I thought.

NOW LET'S WORK OUR WAY THROUGH THE CRAZY AND SEE WHAT THIS IS REALLY ABOUT:

I was tired. I was stressed that my car had just gotten towed. I was very aware that he was seeing me have a bad day and I don't like people to see that side of me. There had been a change in energy between us, I think having sex for the first time and defining our relationship made us both a little nervous and cautious and relaxed all at the same time.

Luckily Doris called me out on all my shit. I realized where all of this was coming from. 2.0 was none the wiser.

Thank GOD. The next day he drove me to get my car and insisted that I was not going to pay the $40 for the car sharing service (glad I paid the $20). Then he took me to dinner and we went to Target for supplies to have a slumber party: we drank Hawaiian Punch, ate candy, played cards, and watched Saturday Night Live in our pajamas.

The next day after work I went to go pick up my car (I had left it there in a spot he had insisted was good) and my car had been towed again. I came up to his place where he was hanging out with a friend and he immediately insisted on paying for this one. After some haggling I agreed to let him, especially when his friend sided with him that it was definitely his fault. I told him I am now covering the car-sharing from the other day so I still have a little bit of pride.

But really this one was his fault. So I appreciate both of our wallets taking a hit instead of just mine.

The energy has changed and I am a little more aware of things that might become issues or hiccups. Sometimes I feel like I really can't get to know something until the sex is out of the way, like I just need to let that horny high school boy inside me get laid before I can settle down and really evaluate how this is working. The issue we will need to be aware of is that I have strong emotions and then process them logically and make decisions based on both. As far as I can tell, he processes things logically which influences his emotions and then he makes decisions based on both. We end up in the same place, but we have to both let each other complete the process before we're on the same page. If we can do that, we're golden. Especially since there hasn't even been anything close to a harsh word spoken between us yet.

One and Done: A Date, by Doris

(Image via Natalie Dee.)

On Thursday, December 30, I began a new life as a dater. (A woman who dates? A person who dates? Whatever.)

If you've been following the saga of Rivers-a-like, you know that I was primarily regarding my first OKCupid real-life in-person date as a warm-up. After all, the guy lives in the suburbs and I don't have a car. On a deeper level, I thought he was nice. That's it. Not super-duper, oh my God you're turning my crank and I can't wait to meet you hot, just nice.

Basically, I wasn't expecting a lot.

And that turned out to be a good thing.

He didn't do anything seriously wrong. He was a few minutes late, but I was slightly less late so that wasn't a big deal. The conversation--mainly revolving around our favorite bands and our mutual love of Chicago--flowed easily with maybe one awkward pause, not bad for two people who had never previously met face-to-face. He insisted on paying (I'm actually more comfortable going Dutch, but if the guy wants to I'm fine with it).

However.

There were two major reasons that when he wanted to hang out longer, I pretended to receive a text from Rock who was having a major emotional crisis (LIE):

1. I wasn't attracted to him. At all. This isn't to say he wasn't an attractive person. He had all the right ingredients: brown hair, glasses, nice face. It just didn't appeal to me.

2. Here's the big thing. I know I said in a previous post that he moved home for financial reasons and I didn't want to hold it against him. People's choices are their own.

That said, I think my issue with the suburbs thing goes deeper. See, when I moved back to the city after several years away, I had a job. Exactly two months later, I lost this job. I knew deep in my heart that the city was home to me, and I didn't want to leave again.

So I found a way to make it work. I temped. I worked retail for a while. I participated in paid market research studies I found on Craigslist. I worked out a cheaper payment plan on my student loans. I did a lot of free things and I wasn't stupid with money. Eventually, I found a full-time job.

I wanted to live here, so I found a way.

The fact that Rivers-a-like has moved back to the suburbs from the city not one but two times, makes me think this time he's not coming back.

From what I can see, he'll get a promotion at his job (also in the burbs), meet a nice girl, buy a house and settle down, with the occasional urban jaunt that becomes even more occasional as the years go by.

That's fine. His choices. His life.

It just doesn't jibe with mine.

One more thing, dudes: if a girl says she wants to meet for coffee or drinks, she means coffee or drinks. She does not mean dinner. "Coffee," "drinks" and "dinner" are words very distinguishable from one another. Read your gotdamn messages, please.

Last thing, I promise:

If you want to order an appetizer for yourself, that's cool. If you tell the waiter we are going to share it, please ask me what looks good before ordering. Not only is that a conversation starter, it also takes into account that I may have food allergies and I definitely DO have likes and dislikes. And if you don't ask, don't be surprised when I politely refuse to eat it.

On to date two, with a gentleman to be determined. I'll keep ya posted!

Quote-a-Palooza, by Doris

First of all, Happy New Year to all the lovers and lovees!

If this is your first time on the blog, a big ole WELCOME from me and Rock! Please forward this to all your friends and comment on all our relationship ridiculosity.

I am a quote whore, and recently I've read a few that really resonated with me. This is a blog about two boy-crazy kids looking at their dating habits and making positive changes. Here are two quotes I happened across on New Year's Eve:

The first, courtesy of my yoga teacher's quote bowl (yes, I'm a yoga nerd who gets all bendy-twisty by candlelight to ring in the New Year):

Habits of thinking need not be forever. One of the most significant findings in psychology in the last twenty years is that individuals can choose the way they think.--Martin Seligman

As someone who was more or less with the same guy for fourteen years, and thinks she has only one "type," this gives me hope. I resolve to keep an open mind with the dudes I'm seeking out and dating.

The next quote is from one of my favorite authors, David Levithan, co-writer of the novel Dash and Lily's Book of Dares. If you love beautiful writing and excellent stories of young love, RUN RUN RUN to the library/bookstore and check out Levithan's work. Dash and Lily is his third collaboration with fellow YA author Rachel Cohn: the two are best known for Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist (one of my favorite books, and the movie has this wonderful eighties teen comedy meets American Graffiti vibe). Dash and Lily isn't my favorite, but I do love this passage:

You think fairy tales are only for girls? Here's a hint--ask yourself who wrote them. I assure you, it wasn't just the women. It's the great male fantasy--all it takes is one dance to know she's the one. All it takes is the sound of her song from the tower, or a look at her sleeping face. And right away you know--this is the girl in your head, sleeping or dancing or singing in front of you. Yes, girls want their princes, but boys want their princesses just as much. And they don't want a very long courtship. They want to know immediately . . .

It's only when we try to make the girl or boy in our head real that the true trouble comes. Be careful what you're doing, because no one is ever who you want them to be. And the less you really know them, the more likely you are to confuse them with the girl or boy in your head . . . You should never wish for wishful thinking.

What did I get from this quote? It's good to want things, to have dealbreakers in mind. But you can't project your fantasies, your 100% perfect match, on to someone who will have their faults, who will fart in their sleep or occasionally use bad grammar, but might be totally awesome for you anyway.

Finally, I leave you with a gorgeous Tracy Chapman song that is all about what I resolve to do in the New Year, with respect to relationships: