Texts will get you no where.

For those of you keeping score at home...let me tell you about my evening!!

I posted a rather flattering picture of me doing the Mckayla Maroney "Unimpressed" face on facebook with the caption, "The boy from my blog and I are going to dinner. Ima go get groceries after. So whether or not he kisses me, ima be the cutest thang in trader joes tonight."

this one is much cuter than the "unimpressed" version

My date went well...actually, it went a little bumpy, as dates are oft wont to go-- he was frazzled, had the wrong address for the restaurant, and was running late (apparently punctuality is a thing people get excited about)-- but the meal was delicious (Thai food-- Mali's in the Highlands)-- incidentally, we both picked Massaman curry. Conversation was great, laughs were exchanged, plans were made for another date...perhaps even a Shakespearey one. I chided him a bit about the not calling bit-- part of me felt like I was nagging and being clingy, but the "Oh-hell-no-you-go-girl-get-em" loud persona inhabiting my brain was more encouraging on the gentle nudge toward regular-freakin-communication.

Well, let's just mention communication. He's not a big texter and I am. It's also important when one is dating to seed the questions and comments from ones friends before and after said date. I do this with SEVERAL of my friends-- we text outfit pics back and forth before the date, we fwd. messages and ask for interpretation, we text before dates and check in during to make sure the other party isn't getting murdered or something. I think it's girl-bonding shit that Carrie would recommend (from SATC) if she could work a smartphone. 

Not being one to kiss and tell.....

                                                                                                                          HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

I was texting my girls as soon as I hit it up out that parking lot. So, um, I meant to text one of my friends the straightforward, "yay, kisses!" And I texted it to him. 

And he responded.

Bella is WISHING she could disappear right now.

So, um, yeah. That happened. And in Emily's words from a few years ago, "Y'ALL! I AM positively MORTIFIED!" He wrote back something congenial and self-effacing. I wrote back that I maaaaaaaybe intended that for someone else. Both parties were amused. (Not including me.)

I'm assuming since he doesn't do the smartphone--big-time texting thing, he's probably not getting the sheer volume of texts that come flying out of a simple brush of my finger's caress across that screen. Hopefully he doesn't overthink it... just thinking about it, I'm giggling and clapping my hand to my forehead, squinching  my eyes closed in shame. There's no one here to see me but the sleeping dog, and I'm still embarrassed.

So, the boy did kiss me. I liked it and had butterflies in my tummy. I don't think he has wings. I think I'm kind of an idiot for texting him about the kiss we just had.

And damn, I did look good buying cheese and greens at Trader Joe's. 

For a little taste of random, here's a cartoon one of my students drew: 

(So adorable. I bet that octopus never wrong number texts. Octopi in jaunty hats never do stuff like that.)

Waffle brunch and waffling boys

Since it’s a delightfully out-of-season 67 degrees here, I’m sitting on my little shitty back porch (it overlooks my neighbor’s rotting privacy fence—where they ignore their dog 20 hours a day-- and has mildew spots where the gutters dump rain water all the time) blogging with my dog. She’s not adding so much to the blog per se, but she is adding to my iTunes soundtrack by barking in time at the squirrels. That poor little thing, I just went inside and got a little mat for her to sit on because I didn’t want to have to pick splinters out of her little paws or belly from the awful porch. It’s a rough (ruff) life for her.
 

And back to me. I’m a Taurus. This is important or it’s not. Making major life decisions based on dead particles of matter bazillions of light years away and how they appear to be formatted in the shapes of pictures of animals, according to our ancestors—well if that roll of the dice appeals to you, good stuff.  Taureans are supposed to be patient to a fault (think Ferdinand the bull smelling the flowers in the meadow), loyal, and reliable. Like many French people, once we trust you, we trust you forever. If you break that trust, well, we’re done with you. Snort, snort, paw the ground, horns blazing.

I put a certain amount of stock in astrology because it’s interesting. Sometimes it’s accurate, sometimes it isn’t. I also find birth order and seasonal coincidences (babies born 9 months after blizzards, etc.) about human behavior fascinating.  I’ve also had the fortune of working with anywhere in the neighborhood of 200-700 people in a calendar year for the past five years—meaning I’ve had some time to hone my observation skills about the nature of human interaction. I continue on this pseudo-science on a daily basis, and it’s great.

Per my last blog, I was waiting on a dumb boy to call. Based on market research (meaning I bugged my friends on Facebook and talked to anyone who I felt like sharing with), boys are dumb and dense. Loveable, handy, enjoyable, etc…but dumb and dense. So my poor little Taurus bull in my head has been getting a little frustrated with this boy and his slowness to call. I’m patient, but gawwwwwwd!

Upon further advice of a very trusted source and bestest friend, I was informed that smart, sexy, funny women are intimidating and I’m intimidating as hell. He told me to be down-to-earth and shoot a text.  Being that I’m a persistent Taurus, but also a pragmatic Feminist, I went ahead and sent the text. Oh, Technology, you make my life both endlessly complicated and amusingly frustrating. All is well, and I can go back to being a patient Fernandina, sniffing my winter pansies in my container gardens.

Oh, that, and I can cook food, between all that time being patient.

Maybe you have this problem too, but when you’re having a lazy weekend day, isn’t it impossible to choose what sort of breakfast items to have?? At restaurants, it’s pretty cost-prohibitive to have the coffee-orange juice-coke-water-apple juice-hot chocolate-sprite-sweet tea-hot tea-Chai latte-Cranberry juice all at the same time. Maybe water and one of those beverages, but not all of them. At home, I have whatever I want!

I also have difficulty picking between sweet and savory when I’m out. So dammit, I used my waffle maker and had waffles with walnuts and blueberries, with real butter, whipped cream, and a honey drizzle. Sha-blam, I also had scrambled eggs with tomatoes, truffle salt, cheddar, and sunflower sprouts I grew in the window sill. This breakfast was DA BOMB! Boom! In my belly!

And I mentioned my spoiled dog? Yeah, she got brunch too.

Oh, damn. But then there’s all the dishes.

Let’s be clear, this wonderful weather is WONDERFUL. I’m thrilled it’s January and I’m outside in shorts and a tank top. Global warming, you are real and I like it (today only). Let’s also be clear that I’m so grateful to the universe and my circumstances that I have the good fortune to make money for what I do and have a roof over my head and a suspect porch under my feet. (I'm devastated that there's another news story out of India about women being unable to safely ride public buses.)  My dog is happy her mom is sitting outside on a laptop and encouraging her to bark at long-tailed tree vermin.  No waffling allowed, life is, quite good.

ok, cupid's fish in the sea...whatchoo got?!

I think, since I haven't posted here in over a year (thanks, facebook, your set up makes it easier for me just to post long status-updates than actual entries)...it's okay for me to go a little off-grid and talk about my personal life, instead of my professional one. I also have been reading some humorist blogs where the authors swear quite a bit. I swear ALL THE TIME in real life (but not at church or around old people) and it seems weird to type it. I'm want to give it a go here.

Incidentally, I'm starting a different blog for my teaching/school quips, so that will be around at some point. I've got content, but I haven't thought of a good name. Clearly...the name of this one is too much of a mouthful.

But I digress.

 To bring you (if you know me in the real life, or not) up to speed, I'm 29 and single. I've lived with some boyfriends, thought about/talked about marrying some boyfriends, dated long-distance (across states and even countries), changed life plans for boyfriends, and been more than broken-hearted by boyfriends. If you'd asked me a few years ago, "will you be single at 29?" I'd probably have tentatively said, hopefully not. The jaded part of me says, whatever...FOREVER ALOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNE, all emo-like. However, I've had some major growth in my emotional life and I'm really comfortable with my single-ness, lack-of-being-a-parent-ness, my hot-ness, my wrinkled-and-and-lived-in-skin-ness...you see where I'm going with this. I like me. I like me whether I have a boyfriend, significant other, roll of fat, perfect hair day, terrible hair day, or whatever.

This is important. There's so much research and evidence about teens (boys and girls, but since I'm a chick, I'll stick with that) and depression and low self-esteem and how that leads to dangerous decisions (self-loathing, self-injury, binge-drinking, bad sex choices, etc.) in the future. Basically, your self-image is more or less cemented from childhood on. The fact that I haven't let the media totally pervade my brain and tell me I'm AWFUL for not being super skinny, not having a husband, not being "perfect"...it's a big deal. I've worked toward my happy relationship with my body in the mirror.

Now my relationship with my head and my heart? Those are every day struggles.

So I've been doing the online dating thing. Incidentally, I started it because I have a good friend who met her husband through a particular site, and they are a-dor-a-buuullllll. I also know of many other success stories. I met my 2 more recent relationships via online dating and those guys turned out to be stand-up gents who I'm very happy to have spent significant time with. I'm glad we split up too...because these experiences have led to me being more, well, me.

I've gone out on some pity dates lately and man, they are SAD. This one guy has had a crazy amount of loss in his world and I thought I'd been pretty clear that I wasn't necessarily looking for something physical/romantic...but that guy has called or texted me every day for 2 weeks. I don't want to let him down, and the Suzy Sunshine part of me wants to cheer him up, but dang. That's a lot of work for a therapist to do, and I ain't even got time for my shit.

 I went out with this one dude-- nothing awful about him-- just kinda BORING. I will call him Mr. Boring. Had an MBA, a decent job, a good volunteer thing going on, but that mumfucker wanted to go split-zies on everything. It was pointed out to me that it was a "transactional" view point of dating to insist that the guy pay for stuff before anything physical happened...and I'm not going to start making a menu or anything... (one kiss= 2 dates, making out= fancy dinner and flowers) LOL, but REALLY? I'm smart, I'm hot, I'm funny, I'm entertaining and I suggested fun things for us to do. The least you can do is buy my damn drink. I'm good arm candy, and you, Mr. Boring, are not. Plus, you're boring.

I guess, if we'd gone to THAT restaurant and seen bongo-boobs,  we coulda totally made out, whether or not he'd picked up the check.

I've been messaging and speaking with another guy who we will call Mr. Demanding. He's not bad, again, but just a little on the, oh, let's see, how to put this gently, DEMANDING side. I hadn't met him yet in person and he more-or-less started an argument via text message with me. Derrrp, hold the phones! I don't know you, bruh, don't know if you're worth my time, and you want to tell me what to do with my tone of voice? Nope, you're talking to the wrong muthatruckin' feminist. He had the nerve to say that, "he wasn't expecting that I wouldn't go on dates with other guys or anything..." and I'm assuming that meant-- for the time being-- until I meet you and sweep you off your feet or some shit.

Nope, I do what I want. For realz. I'm a damn grown-ass woman who pays her own bills, owns her own car, has a responsible job, and is a kick-ass doggie-mommy. Of course I'm going to go out with who I want, jack-hole! I don't know you!!

Now, onto a different one...and I'm gonna have to stop because this entry is getting stupid long. My roomate calls him Cutie Patootie, so we shall call him Mr. Cutie-Patootie. We've been on a coffee date, a day-date (it was active and included dinner) and an evening date where we met at one restaurant and drove together to a separate activity. He's been delightful, interesting, interested in conversation, intelligent, handsome, and funny.

No problem, right? Call off the search, send the hounds home! Except...communication doesn't seem to be his thing, though and so it seems that every interaction we've had...I've instigated (that's not the word, but fuck it) with an initial text, call, or email. We also have had NO KISSING. Boo to that. If we go back to the transactional view of dating, what gives? I want to kiss you and I'm the girl. If the boy wants to kiss the girl and she's not ready, it's not cool. If the girl wants to kiss the boy and the boy balks...I don't understand. I haven't been in that position before in my extensive 14 years of dating.

So, Mr. Patootie.

Cutie, If I can call you that...the fish in the sea led me with cupid's stupid arrow to you. Call me and then kiss me, okay??

 Ermagod, if you do get it together and call me, please don't have wings.