I finally had a date last weekend, the first in months. I had a few here and there since I stopped posting about them back in December, but I’ve decided it’s time to start writing about them again. This was an excellent one to start writing about too, because I am ridiculously clumsy. I’m usually really good at hiding the inner klutz when I am around normal people, but as soon as I relax a little bit I’m tripping over my own feet, the rug, a cord, a dip in the sidewalk, whatever.

Well the date went okay, we went to this lounge that seemed like it was trying a little too hard to be upscale, but once you were seated it was comfortable enough. My date ordered some hard liquor drink that sounded disgusting (gin and tonic maybe) and probably thought it would be cool if he ordered one for me too. Whoa, whoa, whoa there waitress, there’s no way in hell I’m drinking that, “I’ll have a glass of Shiraz please.”

Well that was no-no number one right there, DON’T try to order for me when you know nothing about me and can’t even pronounce my name correctly yet. Once you get to know me then ordering for me might be okay, or if there is something that you think I just have to try, I mean there are times that it’s alright, but right at the beginning of a first date without first checking with me is not one of them.

I must be in bitch mode right now because I can’t believe I just spent two paragraphs talking about that, but it really bothered me at the time, and I really don’t like to be told what to do unless it’s by my parents, my boss, or my doctor. The guy was nice enough, maybe borderline arrogant, but still fairly polite…at the beginning of the date at least.

We ended up having a decent conversation for a little over an hour. He was working on getting his PhD in some science field, and was interested in becoming a professor. I am always very intrigued by the PhD process so I had quite a few questions for him, and this guy had no problem talking about himself so it worked out quite well.

I usually don’t discuss the physical attractiveness of my dates, but I think I really need to express that this guy was VERY good looking, which may be the reason why I listened to his “I’m so awesome” stories for so long without getting aggravated. Whenever I didn’t feel like listening I could just stare at him and nod like I knew what he was saying, but I was really just staring at him, his arms, his ass when he went to the bathroom. Alright glad I got that out, I don’t want to say I feel like a guy, because honestly most of my girlfriends are just as bad, but my guy friends are just slightly worse.

Well after about an hour I got sick of listening to this guy, and watching him check out every woman that walked by (funny how they have that radar and won’t so much as bat an eyelash when a guy walks by, but if even a remotely attractive woman walks by they’re all over it, must be a scent thing or something). He got up to go to the bathroom for the third time. Well as he was in the bathroom I asked the waitress for the check and someone managed to kick the table hard enough to knock my wine over, all over the tablecloth.

So to make a long story short my date came back to a table with a big red stain on it, he insisted on paying the bill, which was fine with me, he said he had friends meeting him there, so we shook hands, I thanked him and left to find my friends. After a night like that there’s nothing better than just being yourself around a bunch of people who love you just the way you are.

Check out this story from a friend who is engaged. It really gives you a different perspective on things:

And here it begins. We were walking down the cellar stairs to the garage, rushing out the door to get to work. That morning I had my pinch-y toe shoes on, you know those ones with the delicate points and stiletto heels that can double as a weapon in a tight spot? Knowing I had a lunch appointment, I had grabbed my comfy flip flops, just in case the blisters from the sexy shoes got so bad I couldn’t walk. I was juggling a banana, my oversized purse, and the flip flops as I was teetering down the stairs, my man fast behind me, it was then that I dropped one of the sandals.

And I heard it. As the sandal bounded down the stairs he said ever so quietly as he stood behind me, “Nice!”

But, it came out as a “Niiii – what an idiot thing to do, why were you holding so much crap, why do you have to wear those stupid pointy shoes anyways –iice!”.

Understanding that in another mood, another morning, another lifetime I might just laugh his muttered comment off, I was a little offended. It was clumsy, it was a bit funny and I certainly said those same words in the same tone in my own head (the peanut gallery can be a bit cruel at times). Perhaps it was that I was carrying the banana rather than having eaten it (I get grumpy when I’m hungry) or that I hadn’t had my first cup of coffee yet or I knew I really should have gotten up 10 minutes early instead of rushing around or my too-cool-to-actually-wear torture shoes were contributing to my over sensitivity but I then opened my mouth and asked the dreaded question:

“And what did you mean by that?”.

And so it started…

There are anomalies within every individual and every relationship that turns the facts on their heads and can be the beginning of a whopping scorcher of a fight with sarcasm, accusations, old issues, and a few tears thrown into the mix. We’ve all watched it happen. And watched it escalate. And later wondered why it was that big a deal in the first place. And the kicker is: the issues often arise when we do say exactly what we mean… and then have to figure out how to deal with the consequences afterwards.

You all know those arguments… when we say: “I can’t stand the way you eat”
or “I really have no interest in going to your Mom’s for Christmas” or “why can’t you just put your socks that smell like moldy bread in the damn laundry basket instead of taking them off under the covers and leaving them for days hidden at the bottom of the sheets”! These things get you in trouble, but not as much as those quiet and disguised truths… yeah, you really do look like crap in yellow disguised as a “Umm, that looks fine” or, as he said: a “Nice!” that was really a dig at my clumsy ways with flip flops that morning and my rushing around instead of getting up 10 minutes earlier. All these are beginnings, a call to arms, a quick draw and cock of the gun, a gentle shift of posture so that the blow that comes can be deflected and a gentle kick can be placed with pointy shoes.

With every relationship come the tricks we use to maintain harmony, to avert disaster: when I asked what he meant with his sarcasm he looked at me with those innocent little choir boy eyes and said, “Nothing.” He knows what he meant, he knows I know what he meant. But no amount of cajoling, bullying, or sarcasm on my part or denial and aversion on his part would make bring us to admit the truth: that I was indeed a bit clumsy and he was being a bit of an ass for pointing it out.

Would the situation be over if we had both admitted the truth of the experience? No one knows. It might have escalated or might have dissolved into a fit of relieved giggles and a playful bump that we often do when we have averted, yet again, another battle. And despite these denials and mini betrayals that make up our time, I cannot help but warm while writing this. I take comfort in this contemplation of the burgeoning self realization that comes from getting to a place where I am not on my best behavior all the time, where I see the little boy guilt of the man I love. It’s this vulnerability that makes the magic that is connection happen.

Each day that goes by with him, I learn how to be a little more honest. To say what I mean, to call out the dragons of my insecurities, and to learn how to let moments of conflict dissolve into truth rather than escalate into just more defenses against my less perfect self. And, I suspect he does the same. Someday we will play things out in a different way. Someday I won’t care if he thinks I’m clumsy, someday he won’t care if I think he’s a bit of an ass. Someday we will be 80 together and won’t have the energy or time to fight over the little things.

He and I are still learning how to be with each other. Most likely we will spat tonight over who forgot to take the meat out of the freezer or who gets to watch whose show downstairs in the cool living room instead of upstairs in sweltering Mantown. And we may go to bed mad. Or we may just wrestle for the remote control on the living room rug, turning over and over until he get me in a Figure 4 leg lock and I plant a well timed Zerbert on his exposed belly. But, when we are in bed at night and I reach my foot out to rest against his leg right before I go to sleep, I am content with my life. With him. I guess that’s love. It’s a beginning.

I’m planning on attending this Health and Wellness Seminar and I have five tickets to give out to my girlfriends, so if anyone would like to go with me…

Check it out here:

I’m really interested in talking with the wine guy!

So after my recent sex toys party and my dry spell that has lasted way too long (I’m not getting into it), I’ve decided to start my very own year of masturbation. After a guy recently wrote a song a day for a month, I’m thinking I need to at least shoot for a year. I figure weekly updates will be sufficient.

For those of you who don’t know, there are many benefits of masturbation, including the relief of stress, frustration, tension, and menstrual cramps. It also stimulates the immune system, builds stronger pelvic muscles, and helps you become more comfortable with your body. For more information on masturbation, including other names for it, myths, and techniques, check out this page Cool Nurse.

Oh and did I mention I also had a date over the weekend, I should have a post about it up by the end of the week (I’m sure he’s dying to read it). I think I’ve lost count, so I’m gonna take a guess on what date number I am on. Now off to my new project, have a good night kids.

I can’t wait to see the new clips and interviews from the men of Sex and the City. I know it’s probably kind of sad to admit, but I really do miss the show, the fashion, the funny stories that make me feel better about my dating life. I hope it doesn’t dissappoint.

I’m going to be updating the email hall of shame very soon, so now is your chance. Get em in boys!