So it seems that my job is getting in the way of my blogging. I hate when that happens! I'm off to New York for the week, but before I go, I just had to write about this.
Yesterday I was having a good day. A fantastic day, actually. After a few really rough days of work, I had gotten an invitation to meet with some of the House Foreign Affairs staff. It had gone really well, and I was feeling like maybe I actually have a chance to, I don't know, impact something for real for once. On my walk back to the Metro, I was talking with my colleague when I decided to quickly check my email on my phone.
"What the fuck? Are you fucking kidding me with this shit?" All my lady-likeness and politeness I'd managed to muster up for my Hill meeting had dissipated instantly. Because at the top of my email was this.
"Dr. Nutrition would like to add you to his professional network on LinkedIn."
WHAT. THE. FUCK?!?!?!
Let me refresh your memory. Dr. N and I went out for about two months when he decided just to completely blow me off, even after I'd given him an easy out. It hurt my feelings, pissed me off, but it wasn't the end of the world. Whatever, guys can be dicks about that shit. But then after that, he has the balls to send me a LinkedIn invitation out of nowhere?
Not to hate on LinkedIn, but requests to be added to someone's network are even less personal and more generic than a Facebook friend request. Usually it's something I reserve for people with whom I've worked and with whom I am on good terms. To be clear, Dr. Nutrition and I are not on good terms because he blew me off and hasn't talked to me for 4 months.
So, I respond to his out-of-the-blue request with a one word e-mail. "Seriously?"
I didn't expect him to respond. But within an hour, I got this reply:
"Hi, how have you been? I'm sorry for how things ended between us, but I'd like to maintain a professional relationship...if possible. Since we talked, I became chair of this new organization. I've attached some information and I'd love for you to join. Look it over and let me know if you want to be a member. Have a great weekend! Dr. Nutrition."
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME WITH THIS BULLSHIT? You blow me off, you don't talk to me for MONTHS, and now you want me to do you a fucking favor? You want me to JOIN your organization?!
There were so many things I wanted to say in response. But, I restrained myself. I simply said, "Best of luck. Sorry, I don't have time for any more commitments. If you want to expand your membership, I recommend contacting this and that person. Best, Me."
Look, Dr. Nutrition. DC is a small fucking town, and you burned a bridge with me--a bridge to fantastic. Had you been decent enough to tell me that things weren't working out, it would've taken me some time, but we could definitely be cordial with one another. But since you didn't have the balls to be honest, I don't owe you a fucking thing.
Showing posts with label DC. Show all posts
Showing posts with label DC. Show all posts
Put a Little Love in Your Heart
Between the post-holidays blues, the cold weather, and of course, the horrors of the Arizona shootings, I could use a little more love right now. And what better way to achieve that than by getting out of my little cave of a bedroom, putting on some pants, and spending time doing something for someone else.
The coolest volunteer opportunity came along this morning, and I jumped at the chance. In honor of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, there will be service projects taking place all over DC this weekend. One of the groups I'm involved with got the most awesome project--helping sort and organize the children's section of one of the big DC libraries. I can't think of a more fun way to give back to the community!
And, it's open to anyone who wants to help! So, if you're in DC and are free for a few hours on Saturday morning, let me know if you want to come help out by sending an email at thenonstudent (at) gmail (dot) com, and I'll give you the details. Hope to see some of you there!
Hibernation, Anyone?
I didn't go to church this morning. I meant to. I was up hours before the 11:00 service down the street from me was beginning. I even interrupted my viewing of Devil Wears Prada to piece together what could be, in a sense, construed as an outfit. A disastrous outfit--sort of too big black pants, faded black Gap tee, overly dressy cardigan (trying to make up for the rest of the outfit), and snuggly, slipper-esque ankle boots. Not to mention no shower and no make-up. I checked myself out in the mirror, realized what I had on was essentially a modification of pajamas, and put my flannels back on. (
They are pretty damn cute pajamas
.)
At a very base level, I did't want to leave my room, much less step outside into the cold. Really I admire anyone who voluntarily leaves their house now that it's become frigid. One of the downsides of going home for Thanksgiving was being spoiled by 70+ degree temps only to return to DC to find that the son-of-a-bitch winter has arrived. The dark cold has taken a toll on the city, it seems. I was at a Chanukah party last night, and it was as if everyone had popped an Ambien along with their cocktail. By the time I left, at the reasonable hour of 11:00, the host was nearly passed out on her couch, not from too much gelt or wine or sweet potato latkes, but from sheer exhaustion.
I say we all go into hibernation, an idea I've been pushing this idea since my first horrid winter in Connecticut in 2005. I can see how it might take awhile for this trend to catch on, but hear me out. You are forced to pack on extra weight for survival (why yes, I do require another slice of peppermint chocolate cheesecake;); take a long, deep sleep through the winter months; wake up in the spring with your pre-hibernation figure, and then indulge in some spring fever-induced romance. I think it's the perfect plan. Who's with me?
P.S. Be sure to enter my giveaway! Winner announced this coming Friday. :-)
They are pretty damn cute pajamas.) |
| My winter uniform |
I say we all go into hibernation, an idea I've been pushing this idea since my first horrid winter in Connecticut in 2005. I can see how it might take awhile for this trend to catch on, but hear me out. You are forced to pack on extra weight for survival (why yes, I do require another slice of peppermint chocolate cheesecake;); take a long, deep sleep through the winter months; wake up in the spring with your pre-hibernation figure, and then indulge in some spring fever-induced romance. I think it's the perfect plan. Who's with me?
P.S. Be sure to enter my giveaway! Winner announced this coming Friday. :-)
I Saw the Sign
When I was choosing my undergraduate institution, when I decided to get my masters, when I met SCL, when I left school for a period of time, when I accepted my current job, there were signs--confirmations, gut feelings, a sense of peace, resolution, and certainty. I am hoping, looking even, for a sign in this time of discernment.
Fun and hilarious dinner with Date Me, DC!--sign I should stay? Horrible DC happy hour full of networking assholes--sign I should leave? Yesterday I even broke my own "no dating" rule and went out with someone. Even then I was thinking, "Maybe if we have a connection...would that be a sign?" (We didn't, by the way.)
I am a person of faith and I do believe that being in an open, receptive state can bring about clarity--either through signs, a gut feeling, or some other sense of rightness. I'm not going to get my answer in a pro/con list. Believe me, I've tried that. Multiple times. The truth is there are plenty of reasons for me to stay in DC and reasons for me to go; reasons for me to move to North Carolina and reasons for me not to.
Some have warned me, "Don't make an emotional decision." As if choices that concern the heart are ever entirely logical--or that they ought to be. As if emotions are unimportant and valueless. As if this desire to make a change in my life is me just being emotional (sexist, much?). The heart is important, and so are our feelings, even as they fade and change and confuse us.
So, instead of indulging in fantasies about a new life or fixating on the things I dislike about DC, I'm trying to practice openness and patience, hoping that once again the answer will come in time. I truly believe it will.
Fun and hilarious dinner with Date Me, DC!--sign I should stay? Horrible DC happy hour full of networking assholes--sign I should leave? Yesterday I even broke my own "no dating" rule and went out with someone. Even then I was thinking, "Maybe if we have a connection...would that be a sign?" (We didn't, by the way.)
I am a person of faith and I do believe that being in an open, receptive state can bring about clarity--either through signs, a gut feeling, or some other sense of rightness. I'm not going to get my answer in a pro/con list. Believe me, I've tried that. Multiple times. The truth is there are plenty of reasons for me to stay in DC and reasons for me to go; reasons for me to move to North Carolina and reasons for me not to.
Some have warned me, "Don't make an emotional decision." As if choices that concern the heart are ever entirely logical--or that they ought to be. As if emotions are unimportant and valueless. As if this desire to make a change in my life is me just being emotional (sexist, much?). The heart is important, and so are our feelings, even as they fade and change and confuse us.
So, instead of indulging in fantasies about a new life or fixating on the things I dislike about DC, I'm trying to practice openness and patience, hoping that once again the answer will come in time. I truly believe it will.
Let the Sunshine In
For those of you who haven't seen the show, it doesn't have much of a plot. As one of my friends said, it's more of a mood than a plot. And by mood, I mean drug-induced hallucination. But, it is a rockin', energetic show that engages the audience like none other I've seen. So much in fact that at the end, they invite audience members to join the cast on stage to dance and sing with them.
Now, I was sitting in the second tier (read: nosebleed section), and I was trying to figure out if I could get down there in time. My friend and I looked at each and then booked it down four flights of stairs, only to hear what we thought was the end of the music. Damn. Not to mention people were exiting the show, so we were going against traffic. But, at that point I was determined to get my ass up there.
That was when we heard them start "Let the Sunshine In." We rushed down the aisle, and were met by two cast members who took us by the hand, helping us on stage and took us right to the very front. It was the most thrilling experience I've had in a long time, being up there with hundreds of people all dancing and singing together. And when the music was over, one of the leads came over and threw her arms around me, thanking me for coming to the show! I couldn't believe how gracious they were and how connected I felt, how I was totally feeding on their post-performance high.
I'll admit, when I was up in the balcony, I was hesitant to rush the stage. No one else in our section was moving. But then I thought, Fuck it. I'm probably never going to get to dance and sing on the Kennedy Center stage again. And I'm so glad I didn't let that fear of looking like a fool get in my way.
Double Crush=Double Fun+Double Trouble
If you saw the second update on yesterday's post, my texting Mr. Navy ended up working quite nicely, even if I attributed it to momentary insanity. About two hours after I sent my last text (in which I not-so-subtly said it'd be fun to see each other again...and then immediately wished I hadn't sent it), he texted back, "Let's shoot for next week. How's Thursday?" *happy dance*
Just as soon as I'd begun celebrating my flirting victory, I realized that I had to get showered and ready for my third date with Dr. Nutrition. We had plans to have dinner at 6 in Foggy Bottom, giving us plenty of time to get over to the Kennedy Center to pick up our free tickets. Or so I thought. At about 5:45 I got a text from Dr. Nutrition that once again he's running late, but he promises to be there by 6:10. Knowing that he lives way out in Bethesda aka "Canada," I knew he was bullshitting me.
As per usual, I arrived exactly on time and began tweeting furiously about how he was late for the third time in a row. The combination of annoyance and wishing I'd rather be with Mr. Navy put me in a slight funk until 6:20 when Dr. Nutrition showed up looking gorgeous and absolutely apologetic. As it turns out, he'd gotten some bad news at work and needed some time to process it before heading out to our date. I totally can understand that--and honestly had it been me, I would have considered cancelling. Or been in a funk the whole time. He was neither. Props to him.
Because we were late to sit down and we have a habit of talking rather than perusing the menu, we ended up not getting our check until close to 7:45. Shit, we were going to be late to the Kennedy Center! Now, had we been smart, we would've jumped in a cab, but we figured it wasn't that far and we could book it. Such a bad idea. I got distracted in his story-telling about a friend of a friend who had been at Dewey and got arrested for breaking and entering someone's house--and having sex on their couch! Dr. Nutrition said, "She's not just a burglar. She's a fuckburglar!" Hilarious.
It was around that time that we realized we were walking down the wrong fucking street. By the time we backtracked, found the Kennedy Center, found the super secret place where our free tickets were, and made our way to the theater, it was 8:30. In the elevator up to the terrace level, he looked so sad and apologetic that I decided to make the move this time and gave him a kiss. (The kissing this time around was much better than last time.) I said, "No worries, everything is fine." He was a lot more relaxed after that.
As it turned out, we hadn't missed too much, and it ended up being a fun night despite the two rounds of tardiness. And, we are beginning to get more comfortable with each other. Despite my thinking I'm totally infatuated with Mr. Navy (which I am at least to a point), the truth is that I am really feeling Dr. Nutrition, too. I've never been in this position of liking two guys at the same time, and I'm wondering how long it can last. But, seeing as how it's not a problem right now, I won't think about it too much.
We have our fourth date planned for Tuesday. This time I'm heading to "Canada." Wish me luck.
Just as soon as I'd begun celebrating my flirting victory, I realized that I had to get showered and ready for my third date with Dr. Nutrition. We had plans to have dinner at 6 in Foggy Bottom, giving us plenty of time to get over to the Kennedy Center to pick up our free tickets. Or so I thought. At about 5:45 I got a text from Dr. Nutrition that once again he's running late, but he promises to be there by 6:10. Knowing that he lives way out in Bethesda aka "Canada," I knew he was bullshitting me.
As per usual, I arrived exactly on time and began tweeting furiously about how he was late for the third time in a row. The combination of annoyance and wishing I'd rather be with Mr. Navy put me in a slight funk until 6:20 when Dr. Nutrition showed up looking gorgeous and absolutely apologetic. As it turns out, he'd gotten some bad news at work and needed some time to process it before heading out to our date. I totally can understand that--and honestly had it been me, I would have considered cancelling. Or been in a funk the whole time. He was neither. Props to him.
Because we were late to sit down and we have a habit of talking rather than perusing the menu, we ended up not getting our check until close to 7:45. Shit, we were going to be late to the Kennedy Center! Now, had we been smart, we would've jumped in a cab, but we figured it wasn't that far and we could book it. Such a bad idea. I got distracted in his story-telling about a friend of a friend who had been at Dewey and got arrested for breaking and entering someone's house--and having sex on their couch! Dr. Nutrition said, "She's not just a burglar. She's a fuckburglar!" Hilarious.
It was around that time that we realized we were walking down the wrong fucking street. By the time we backtracked, found the Kennedy Center, found the super secret place where our free tickets were, and made our way to the theater, it was 8:30. In the elevator up to the terrace level, he looked so sad and apologetic that I decided to make the move this time and gave him a kiss. (The kissing this time around was much better than last time.) I said, "No worries, everything is fine." He was a lot more relaxed after that.
As it turned out, we hadn't missed too much, and it ended up being a fun night despite the two rounds of tardiness. And, we are beginning to get more comfortable with each other. Despite my thinking I'm totally infatuated with Mr. Navy (which I am at least to a point), the truth is that I am really feeling Dr. Nutrition, too. I've never been in this position of liking two guys at the same time, and I'm wondering how long it can last. But, seeing as how it's not a problem right now, I won't think about it too much.
We have our fourth date planned for Tuesday. This time I'm heading to "Canada." Wish me luck.
It's Just a Little Crush.
I am insanely smitten with Mr. Navy. Oh, it's so bad. See, this is why I do not get drunk and kiss beautiful boys because when I do, it's like I just hand them my heart in a damn zip-lock bag! Gah. I'm not used to being this girl. I felt bad bugging my friend L about him, but she's my only line to his thoughts. She said, "Don't worry. He likes you. Give him until the end of the week to contact you."
And if he doesn't, then what? Ok, just breathe. We are not even close to that point yet.
Despite my desire to stay home and pore over pictures from this weekend, I had a date to get to--Mr. Litigation. We met up at Teaism, one of my favorite DC places, in Penn Quarter just by the Verizon Center. I kept seeing people in bizarro outfits and was like, "WTF is going on?" Then I realized: Gaga concert! For a split second I had high hopes that Mr. Litigation had actually purchased us tickets for the concert. Damn, that would've been hot. Might have blown Mr. Navy out of the water.
Even without Gaga, we had a really wonderful time. He was easy to talk to, funny, and easy-going. He's the oldest of six, and I loved hearing how close his family is. He did at one point mention that his sister was involved with Campus Crusade and I got a bit concerned until he mentioned doing a lot of meditation. We ended up talking for an hour about Buddhism and meditation. He even told me how to sit more comfortably--roll up a yoga mat and sit on top of it. It forces you to have a straight back--I will have to try it.
He was a really nice guy and a great distraction from Mr. Navy, though he was not really my type physically. But it's really good for me to keep meeting new people and not focus so much on this one guy. Even though he is beautiful. And smart. And sweet. And a fantastic kisser.
Oh, I am such a goner with this one.
P.S. My friend Z from the weekend texted me to say, "You and Mr. Navy are totally getting married. My few friends who are married I've been there when they met." I know it's ridiculous, but this makes me feel all giddy!
And if he doesn't, then what? Ok, just breathe. We are not even close to that point yet.
Despite my desire to stay home and pore over pictures from this weekend, I had a date to get to--Mr. Litigation. We met up at Teaism, one of my favorite DC places, in Penn Quarter just by the Verizon Center. I kept seeing people in bizarro outfits and was like, "WTF is going on?" Then I realized: Gaga concert! For a split second I had high hopes that Mr. Litigation had actually purchased us tickets for the concert. Damn, that would've been hot. Might have blown Mr. Navy out of the water.
Even without Gaga, we had a really wonderful time. He was easy to talk to, funny, and easy-going. He's the oldest of six, and I loved hearing how close his family is. He did at one point mention that his sister was involved with Campus Crusade and I got a bit concerned until he mentioned doing a lot of meditation. We ended up talking for an hour about Buddhism and meditation. He even told me how to sit more comfortably--roll up a yoga mat and sit on top of it. It forces you to have a straight back--I will have to try it.
He was a really nice guy and a great distraction from Mr. Navy, though he was not really my type physically. But it's really good for me to keep meeting new people and not focus so much on this one guy. Even though he is beautiful. And smart. And sweet. And a fantastic kisser.
Oh, I am such a goner with this one.
P.S. My friend Z from the weekend texted me to say, "You and Mr. Navy are totally getting married. My few friends who are married I've been there when they met." I know it's ridiculous, but this makes me feel all giddy!
Sunset at the Kennedy Center: Second Date with Dr. Nutrition
Last night was my second date with Dr. Nutrition. He sent me an e-mail last Friday (just under 24 hours after our first date) asking if I'd like to go to the Kennedy Center or Jazz in the Garden...or both. Two date options! I was impressed. But with my busy social calendar and my plans to go out of town for Labor Day, yesterday was the only night that worked for me.
There are so many awesome things to do in DC that are free--and I don't mean just museums. Every day the Kennedy Center has a free concert that's open to the public. Dr. Nutrition had been there a few times before, and apparently they bring in pretty big names. If you're in DC (or visiting), check it out!
The concert itself was pretty great. The only thing about it was it was difficult to talk during it, and kind of like seeing a movie with a date, there's a lot of sitting there next to each other not interacting. We exchanged a couple of funny observations, like how the lead singer was playing a guitar but we couldn't hear the sound and how the keyboardist would oddly interject a few lyrics at random times. The sitting next to each other but not talking proved to be not a good thing for this reason: I started to panic. Thoughts of "WTF am I doing?" and memories of SCL were swarming in my head--everything from, "I feel so uncomfortable being with a new guy" to "The last time I came to the Kennedy Center was with SCL" and "Oh god, I'm going to vomit." I don't know what came over me, but I was feeling anxious and was thinking of excuses to bolt.
But, I'm trying to remember that thoughts usually pass--just like emotions come and go, the things in our head come and go. Rather than believing every little thing I think, I try to acknowledge the thought and then drop it. By the end of the concert, I felt much calmer and more open to spending time with my date.
We ended up spending three hours on the rooftop terrace of the Center, which has a fantastic view of Georgetown. It was really quite beautiful, especially as the sun went down. Unlike the last date, this time I felt like we were in more of a dialog, and I felt more and more comfortable with him. I can't get over how self-aware and positive he is--it's such a change to talk with someone who knows what he wants and is excited about the journey. And it doesn't hurt that he's also really, really cute.
We talked about online dating--and how it's difficult on the one hand to say, "Love will happen when it happens" and being intentional about kind of looking for it. Ultimately it's about expectations--being open but not insistent that things must go a certain way. For someone like me, who tends to fall fast and hard, it's a good thing for me to be slowing down and not jumping to conclusions.
But, I think what really got me and made me swoon a little bit was when we were talking about how we choose whom to contact on dating sites. He said, "The pictures are really important to me. Most people talk about the importance of a person's smile. But I look at the eyes. I look for light, for exuberance. People can fake a smile, but the eyes reveal something deeper." *swoon*
We kissed not long after that. My first thought was, "This is nice, but different from kissing SCL. It feels sort of weird." Seeing as how I haven't kissed anyone else in two years, I guess that's probably not an abnormal thought. But despite the initial weirdness, there was a great energy between us.
At that point it was 10 PM and we both had to head home. It wasn't until I got on my Metro car that I realized we never ate dinner! I guess that's what good conversation can do to a person. I think it's safe to say a third day is on the horizon, and I'm really looking forward to it.
There are so many awesome things to do in DC that are free--and I don't mean just museums. Every day the Kennedy Center has a free concert that's open to the public. Dr. Nutrition had been there a few times before, and apparently they bring in pretty big names. If you're in DC (or visiting), check it out!
The concert itself was pretty great. The only thing about it was it was difficult to talk during it, and kind of like seeing a movie with a date, there's a lot of sitting there next to each other not interacting. We exchanged a couple of funny observations, like how the lead singer was playing a guitar but we couldn't hear the sound and how the keyboardist would oddly interject a few lyrics at random times. The sitting next to each other but not talking proved to be not a good thing for this reason: I started to panic. Thoughts of "WTF am I doing?" and memories of SCL were swarming in my head--everything from, "I feel so uncomfortable being with a new guy" to "The last time I came to the Kennedy Center was with SCL" and "Oh god, I'm going to vomit." I don't know what came over me, but I was feeling anxious and was thinking of excuses to bolt.
But, I'm trying to remember that thoughts usually pass--just like emotions come and go, the things in our head come and go. Rather than believing every little thing I think, I try to acknowledge the thought and then drop it. By the end of the concert, I felt much calmer and more open to spending time with my date.
We ended up spending three hours on the rooftop terrace of the Center, which has a fantastic view of Georgetown. It was really quite beautiful, especially as the sun went down. Unlike the last date, this time I felt like we were in more of a dialog, and I felt more and more comfortable with him. I can't get over how self-aware and positive he is--it's such a change to talk with someone who knows what he wants and is excited about the journey. And it doesn't hurt that he's also really, really cute.
We talked about online dating--and how it's difficult on the one hand to say, "Love will happen when it happens" and being intentional about kind of looking for it. Ultimately it's about expectations--being open but not insistent that things must go a certain way. For someone like me, who tends to fall fast and hard, it's a good thing for me to be slowing down and not jumping to conclusions.
But, I think what really got me and made me swoon a little bit was when we were talking about how we choose whom to contact on dating sites. He said, "The pictures are really important to me. Most people talk about the importance of a person's smile. But I look at the eyes. I look for light, for exuberance. People can fake a smile, but the eyes reveal something deeper." *swoon*
We kissed not long after that. My first thought was, "This is nice, but different from kissing SCL. It feels sort of weird." Seeing as how I haven't kissed anyone else in two years, I guess that's probably not an abnormal thought. But despite the initial weirdness, there was a great energy between us.
At that point it was 10 PM and we both had to head home. It wasn't until I got on my Metro car that I realized we never ate dinner! I guess that's what good conversation can do to a person. I think it's safe to say a third day is on the horizon, and I'm really looking forward to it.
Let Me Take a Swing at That
I held my first golf club when I was 6. It was an antique wooden club that had belonged to my grandmother, and I carried it with pride to my first golf lesson. Golf was pretty much an expectation in my family--my grandparents had taught both of my brothers how to play, and just because I was a girl didn't mean I was off the hook. I took golf lessons for three summers and even won a tournament. But once adolescence kicked in and I became preoccupied with attempting to be cool, golf fell off the radar screen. Until yesterday.
Mr. Graphic Designer contacted me via OkCupid, responding to the part of my profile that refers to how I like nerds (I've since edited that section) and how he could kick my ass at Scrabble. "You probably could because I've never played Scrabble," I responded. I know, what kind of person hasn't played Scrabble? This kind of person. Growing up with athletic brothers I was always playing sports, not board or card games. But, Mr. Graphic Designer also had an affinity for golf, and when I told him that I actually like watching golf on TV (I attribute this to being subjected to countless hours of golf broadcasts on our single TV), he could barely contain himself.
He invited me out for drinks, but I said, "Hey, let's go to the driving range." Again, an awesome response--and one I really was genuine about. I'd rather go do something for a first date anyway. We made plans to meet at the East Potomac Park driving range. He'd let me borrow his clubs--a very kind gesture seeing as how freaking expensive golf clubs are and I haven't played in 15+ years.
So, as I was getting ready for my golf date, I was actually talking to another guy (Dr. Scientist, not to be confused with Dr. Nutrition) and awkwardly trying to pretend like this date was with a friend. "What are you going to wear to play?" he asked. I said, "Um...I dunno, some khakis and a collared shirt?" He said, "You're going to be drenched in about five minutes." And he was just about right--except that it really only took two minutes before I had sweat through my clothes. Damn this return of 90+ degree weather.
Backing up, Mr. Graphic Designer--a really nice guy, definitely nerdy, not really my type. I knew it pretty much right away, and thus I felt not even a slight sense of nervousness about the whole date. In my limited experience, a good date comes with at least a few nerves because there's some excitement about where it might go. Sadly, there were no such feelings about this one, but I was still pumped to play.
As far as the golf goes, it's sort of like riding a bike, but I am definitely out of practice. I was splicing,, hooking, and whiffing more often than I'd like to admit. But just about every fifth swing (usually when Mr. Graphic Designer wasn't looking, of course) I nailed it--and my ball would sail into the air. It's an awesome feeling when you do something like that right. The other times, it's frustrating as hell. Mr. Graphic Designer did try to give me a few pointers, and I let him since it seems like guys like to do that. A few of his tips actually worked.
Even though it was in the middle of the afternoon, we ended up going out to lunch afterward...and that's when things got a little awkward. We sort of ran out of things to talk about once the food came, but we both toughed it out. He drove me back to my car and invited me up to his apartment to, uh, "look at his art." I said, "Um, actually...I should probably...um...go." He seemed a little disappointed, but understood.
We hugged good-bye and I said something like, "Let's hit the driving range again." But I have a feeling that might be the last time he lets me use his clubs.
Mr. Graphic Designer contacted me via OkCupid, responding to the part of my profile that refers to how I like nerds (I've since edited that section) and how he could kick my ass at Scrabble. "You probably could because I've never played Scrabble," I responded. I know, what kind of person hasn't played Scrabble? This kind of person. Growing up with athletic brothers I was always playing sports, not board or card games. But, Mr. Graphic Designer also had an affinity for golf, and when I told him that I actually like watching golf on TV (I attribute this to being subjected to countless hours of golf broadcasts on our single TV), he could barely contain himself.
He invited me out for drinks, but I said, "Hey, let's go to the driving range." Again, an awesome response--and one I really was genuine about. I'd rather go do something for a first date anyway. We made plans to meet at the East Potomac Park driving range. He'd let me borrow his clubs--a very kind gesture seeing as how freaking expensive golf clubs are and I haven't played in 15+ years.
So, as I was getting ready for my golf date, I was actually talking to another guy (Dr. Scientist, not to be confused with Dr. Nutrition) and awkwardly trying to pretend like this date was with a friend. "What are you going to wear to play?" he asked. I said, "Um...I dunno, some khakis and a collared shirt?" He said, "You're going to be drenched in about five minutes." And he was just about right--except that it really only took two minutes before I had sweat through my clothes. Damn this return of 90+ degree weather.
Backing up, Mr. Graphic Designer--a really nice guy, definitely nerdy, not really my type. I knew it pretty much right away, and thus I felt not even a slight sense of nervousness about the whole date. In my limited experience, a good date comes with at least a few nerves because there's some excitement about where it might go. Sadly, there were no such feelings about this one, but I was still pumped to play.
As far as the golf goes, it's sort of like riding a bike, but I am definitely out of practice. I was splicing,, hooking, and whiffing more often than I'd like to admit. But just about every fifth swing (usually when Mr. Graphic Designer wasn't looking, of course) I nailed it--and my ball would sail into the air. It's an awesome feeling when you do something like that right. The other times, it's frustrating as hell. Mr. Graphic Designer did try to give me a few pointers, and I let him since it seems like guys like to do that. A few of his tips actually worked.
Even though it was in the middle of the afternoon, we ended up going out to lunch afterward...and that's when things got a little awkward. We sort of ran out of things to talk about once the food came, but we both toughed it out. He drove me back to my car and invited me up to his apartment to, uh, "look at his art." I said, "Um, actually...I should probably...um...go." He seemed a little disappointed, but understood.
We hugged good-bye and I said something like, "Let's hit the driving range again." But I have a feeling that might be the last time he lets me use his clubs.
Falafel and Fitness: My date with Dr. Nutrition
You may remember from the first breakup that I joined OkCupid on a whim, mostly for my own ego boost. I talked with a few people, but never went out on any dates. Then SCL and I were back together and so on and so on...
But, I never closed my account. Maybe that was my gut saying "Keep your eyes open, sweetie." Back in April, I got a message that said, "I love Georgia. What part are you from?" I have a tender spot for those who appreciate my home state, so we chatted back and forth, nothing serious. But, then once I found myself suddenly single (and indicated as such on my profile), he asked if I wanted to meet, and we set up a time for after my vacation.
We met in Dupont. First impressions: tall, buff, handsome, same eye color as me (dark hazel), and a great smile. He'd told me he had a "place in mind" to go, but then he just gave a vague "let's sit outside." So we ended up at Le Pain Quotidien, which just happened to be the first place we saw with outdoor seating. And my roommate works there. Not exactly an ideal place for just having a drink, but it was fine. We had a very sweet waiter who was patient with us, even though Dr. Nutrition didn't even glance at his menu for at least thirty minutes.
Dr. Nutrition got his PhD in his mid-20s and now works for the National Institutes of Health. He's super fit (runs marathons, does triathlons, is a big yoga buff, etc.) and super positive. He has a very personal trainer-type personality. I could see why he does what he does--he could encourage anyone with his bright eyes and positive energy.
He did talk a lot--not really about himself and not in an egotistical way, but he's definitely a storyteller. I could tell he's had a ton of amazing experiences and is always seeking new opportunities to learn and grow. He was very interesting, but I kept wondering, "When is he going to realize that I haven't shared really anything about myself?" I sipped my one glass of wine which gave me a slight buzz, so I decided against a second glass.
Honestly, I couldn't tell how he was feeling about me at all. Was this just a friend thing? Or a date thing? I ended up paying for my drink, which gave me a "friend thing" vibe. Damn.
We walked toward the Metro, and I was fully prepared just to head home. But then he said, "I'm hungry. Do you want to get some dinner?" Sure, why not? It was 9:30 at that point, and I was pretty famished. We headed to Maoz Vegetarian for the most delicious falafel I've had in a long time. He cracked me up though--he had a folder of his LivingSocial vouchers, with a top sheet listing them all by expiration date. Type-A, much?
As we ate our delicious falafel outside, things got a lot better conversation-wise. I told him about my family and my work, how I hope to travel to the Middle East and Africa next summer through work. He seemed genuinely interested in me and even joked about how he'd talked so much--and that he usually doesn't do that. "Sure, that's what you tell everyone," I said. I felt like I could tease him a bit about his neurosis and his overachieving personality. I'm used to that--I went to Yale.
But, there is something annoying about being around someone who has done and experienced so much that I felt like I had nothing new to add. There weren't many experiences I shared that he hadn't had his hand in at some point. I think he's just a really passionate person and has a lot of interests, but I ended up feeling kind of unspecial, I guess? I don't think of myself as boring at all, but he was sort of overwhelming in all of his interests, passions, and experiences. I sort of felt like I hadn't done much in comparison. Probably this is just my own insecurity that I need to get over.
So, all in all it was a decent date. It actually was pretty fun--talked for almost five hours. We parted at the Metro with a hug (no kiss) and I told him I'd had fun. I'm not sure if I have strong feelings either way about having a second date, so we'll see how it goes. But most of all, I'm just proud of myself for putting myself out there. And it's good to know there are some really nice, quality guys out there. Well, at least one.
But, I never closed my account. Maybe that was my gut saying "Keep your eyes open, sweetie." Back in April, I got a message that said, "I love Georgia. What part are you from?" I have a tender spot for those who appreciate my home state, so we chatted back and forth, nothing serious. But, then once I found myself suddenly single (and indicated as such on my profile), he asked if I wanted to meet, and we set up a time for after my vacation.
We met in Dupont. First impressions: tall, buff, handsome, same eye color as me (dark hazel), and a great smile. He'd told me he had a "place in mind" to go, but then he just gave a vague "let's sit outside." So we ended up at Le Pain Quotidien, which just happened to be the first place we saw with outdoor seating. And my roommate works there. Not exactly an ideal place for just having a drink, but it was fine. We had a very sweet waiter who was patient with us, even though Dr. Nutrition didn't even glance at his menu for at least thirty minutes.
Dr. Nutrition got his PhD in his mid-20s and now works for the National Institutes of Health. He's super fit (runs marathons, does triathlons, is a big yoga buff, etc.) and super positive. He has a very personal trainer-type personality. I could see why he does what he does--he could encourage anyone with his bright eyes and positive energy.
He did talk a lot--not really about himself and not in an egotistical way, but he's definitely a storyteller. I could tell he's had a ton of amazing experiences and is always seeking new opportunities to learn and grow. He was very interesting, but I kept wondering, "When is he going to realize that I haven't shared really anything about myself?" I sipped my one glass of wine which gave me a slight buzz, so I decided against a second glass.
Honestly, I couldn't tell how he was feeling about me at all. Was this just a friend thing? Or a date thing? I ended up paying for my drink, which gave me a "friend thing" vibe. Damn.
We walked toward the Metro, and I was fully prepared just to head home. But then he said, "I'm hungry. Do you want to get some dinner?" Sure, why not? It was 9:30 at that point, and I was pretty famished. We headed to Maoz Vegetarian for the most delicious falafel I've had in a long time. He cracked me up though--he had a folder of his LivingSocial vouchers, with a top sheet listing them all by expiration date. Type-A, much?
As we ate our delicious falafel outside, things got a lot better conversation-wise. I told him about my family and my work, how I hope to travel to the Middle East and Africa next summer through work. He seemed genuinely interested in me and even joked about how he'd talked so much--and that he usually doesn't do that. "Sure, that's what you tell everyone," I said. I felt like I could tease him a bit about his neurosis and his overachieving personality. I'm used to that--I went to Yale.
But, there is something annoying about being around someone who has done and experienced so much that I felt like I had nothing new to add. There weren't many experiences I shared that he hadn't had his hand in at some point. I think he's just a really passionate person and has a lot of interests, but I ended up feeling kind of unspecial, I guess? I don't think of myself as boring at all, but he was sort of overwhelming in all of his interests, passions, and experiences. I sort of felt like I hadn't done much in comparison. Probably this is just my own insecurity that I need to get over.
So, all in all it was a decent date. It actually was pretty fun--talked for almost five hours. We parted at the Metro with a hug (no kiss) and I told him I'd had fun. I'm not sure if I have strong feelings either way about having a second date, so we'll see how it goes. But most of all, I'm just proud of myself for putting myself out there. And it's good to know there are some really nice, quality guys out there. Well, at least one.
Take Me Out Tonight. Meow.
Since returning to D.C. for good (and by "for good," I mean for a month...which at this point feels like a long time to stay put), I have succeeded in going out every single night. This is huge for me.
Let's get real here. SCL and I were B-O-R-I-N-G most of the time. He's much more content to sit at home, make pizza, watch The Office, and play on the computer. There's nothing wrong with this...for him. But me? I'm someone who needs to be around people, and since I work from home, I have to spend my after-work hours getting all of that social interaction I lack from not working in an office. But for the last year or so, I'd really secluded myself, convinced myself I was happy a lot of the time to hang out at home and be with SCL. It was really enjoyable, but it also made me a less interesting person.
Now that I'm going out and doing things, I am beginning to feel more like myself. And I don't feel like I'm doing it to spite him, to prove to myself how much more fun I am than SCL is. It's just that we're really different when it comes to how we like to spend our time, and for whatever reason I felt like I had to tone down my socialite tendencies. And very rarely did I ask him to do the same for me. This was a big mistake I made in the relationship.
So, last night I had a fucking blast doing one of my favorite things--singing karaoke at the gay bar next to my house. One of the groups I've recently joined was having a special event there, and I thought, "Hells yeah, perfect excuse to sing and make a fool of myself whilst drinking beers." I dragged my friends A. and B. with me, and signed them up for songs.
I find it's a lot easier to flirt on stage than off it, so karaoke is actually a good way for me to start talking to guys because I get a lot less nervous singing a song than I do talking with a new guy. Especially in a bar when it's hard to hear and other people are doing really horrible renditions of Journey, and I have to keep screaming "What?!" No, it's more fun to get up on stage and kick some ass singing Reba McIntire's "Fancy."
When I got off stage, I found about five (straight!) guys had joined the table. Now most of them were pretty nerdy, but one was actually pretty cute, although he had strangely manicured eyebrows which made me think twice about the straight thing. But he was hitting on me. Big time. Now it's been several years since I've been single, and my flirting muscles have atrophied. I felt like a bumbling idiot at first. But the thing about flirting is, it doesn't take too much long to get it back, and by the end of the night I was actually enjoying it.
That's why I decided to get up and sing "Out Tonight." Right after I signed up, the amazing Katie at Date Me, DC! showed up, despite having to be up in the wee hours of the morning. (She kicked some serious ass on "Son of a Preacher Man.") I went up to the bar to get us some beers when a woman approached me at the bar and asked if I was singing again. When I told her I'd be singing Rent, she asked if I planned to do the whole dance--and then offered to be my pole. Yikes. Well, I was at a gay bar. Later she asked if she could buy me a drink. She looked kind of heartbroken when all I wanted was a glass of water. Is it a tease to be a straight person at a gay bar?
But anyway, Well-Manicured-Eyebrows guy was upping the flirtation ante, and Katie informed me, "He really wants to bang you!" Instead of asking for my number, he asked me if I was on Facebook. Now forgive my ignorance, but is this the new version of "Can I have your number?" I guess with smartphones it's easier to look someone up that way, and you know a helluva lot more about them if you're Facebook friends. You know, like a person's last name.
The night ended innocently, but I seriously had a blast. And when I got home at 1:00 am, I had five new friend requests--one from each of the men at the table.
Maybe this being single won't be so bad after all.
Let's get real here. SCL and I were B-O-R-I-N-G most of the time. He's much more content to sit at home, make pizza, watch The Office, and play on the computer. There's nothing wrong with this...for him. But me? I'm someone who needs to be around people, and since I work from home, I have to spend my after-work hours getting all of that social interaction I lack from not working in an office. But for the last year or so, I'd really secluded myself, convinced myself I was happy a lot of the time to hang out at home and be with SCL. It was really enjoyable, but it also made me a less interesting person.
Now that I'm going out and doing things, I am beginning to feel more like myself. And I don't feel like I'm doing it to spite him, to prove to myself how much more fun I am than SCL is. It's just that we're really different when it comes to how we like to spend our time, and for whatever reason I felt like I had to tone down my socialite tendencies. And very rarely did I ask him to do the same for me. This was a big mistake I made in the relationship.
So, last night I had a fucking blast doing one of my favorite things--singing karaoke at the gay bar next to my house. One of the groups I've recently joined was having a special event there, and I thought, "Hells yeah, perfect excuse to sing and make a fool of myself whilst drinking beers." I dragged my friends A. and B. with me, and signed them up for songs.
I find it's a lot easier to flirt on stage than off it, so karaoke is actually a good way for me to start talking to guys because I get a lot less nervous singing a song than I do talking with a new guy. Especially in a bar when it's hard to hear and other people are doing really horrible renditions of Journey, and I have to keep screaming "What?!" No, it's more fun to get up on stage and kick some ass singing Reba McIntire's "Fancy."
When I got off stage, I found about five (straight!) guys had joined the table. Now most of them were pretty nerdy, but one was actually pretty cute, although he had strangely manicured eyebrows which made me think twice about the straight thing. But he was hitting on me. Big time. Now it's been several years since I've been single, and my flirting muscles have atrophied. I felt like a bumbling idiot at first. But the thing about flirting is, it doesn't take too much long to get it back, and by the end of the night I was actually enjoying it.
That's why I decided to get up and sing "Out Tonight." Right after I signed up, the amazing Katie at Date Me, DC! showed up, despite having to be up in the wee hours of the morning. (She kicked some serious ass on "Son of a Preacher Man.") I went up to the bar to get us some beers when a woman approached me at the bar and asked if I was singing again. When I told her I'd be singing Rent, she asked if I planned to do the whole dance--and then offered to be my pole. Yikes. Well, I was at a gay bar. Later she asked if she could buy me a drink. She looked kind of heartbroken when all I wanted was a glass of water. Is it a tease to be a straight person at a gay bar?
But anyway, Well-Manicured-Eyebrows guy was upping the flirtation ante, and Katie informed me, "He really wants to bang you!" Instead of asking for my number, he asked me if I was on Facebook. Now forgive my ignorance, but is this the new version of "Can I have your number?" I guess with smartphones it's easier to look someone up that way, and you know a helluva lot more about them if you're Facebook friends. You know, like a person's last name.
The night ended innocently, but I seriously had a blast. And when I got home at 1:00 am, I had five new friend requests--one from each of the men at the table.
Maybe this being single won't be so bad after all.
A Brazilian Boy Named Daniel
I alluded to this in my tweets, but yesterday I had a sort-of blind date with a Brazilian boy named Daniel.
Back up to the weekend before. I was staying with my friends in Richmond, complaining about how I was going to meet men. When I moved to DC, I was in a couple, so I didn't think much about cultivating friendships with guys, mostly because I just didn't hang out with many of them other than my college best friend L. So, the wife, ever the aspiring matchmaker, starts hounding her husband about people he knows at work. He mentioned that there was a new Brazilian contractor who was my age, single, and a nice guy. But in typical guy form, he couldn't answer the question of how attractive he was.
Now, ok, looks aren't everything, but they are something.
Back up to Friday night. I'm hanging out with friends in Cleveland Park, and one of the guys is Brazilian. He starts giving me shit, and I'm giving it right back to him ("You're from Brazil, and you can't do the samba?? What kind of Brazilian are you if you can't dance the fucking samba?"), and he begins making annoying comments like, "I hope your date is ugly and can't dance."
Saturday morning comes around, and I am nursing my not-too-severe hangover, and I start getting texts from my friend. The day before I'd asked her to please text me a ranking between 1-10, to which she responded, "Well, if you were older, how would you rank my husband? I want to get a sense of your taste." Feeling slightly awkward, I replied, "Oh, he'd score very high!" As soon as I hit send, she had replied, "Or rank a celebrity if that's less weird." Yes, it certainly would've been less awkward than admitting I had a serious crush on her absolutely gorgeous husband.
Anyway, the texts start coming. "He's not particularly attractive, not ugly. He's kind of nerdy, but very sweet." Ok, this begins to worry me, but I think, "Well, maybe we'll click. You never know." Then she texts, "He's very nice once you get over the shorts." Oh. Dear. God.The shorts, as it turned out, were this hideous bright plaid that could be seen from one of the National Mall to the other.
Now let me just say what a nightmare it is for a local person to go to the National Mall on a Saturday in August. It is a big fucking nightmare! All of the things I hate about DC all in one place--crowds, lack of Metro etiquette, heat, tourists, etc. What's even worse is when people expect you to show them around and act like a tour guide. The only time I go to the National Mall is to play kickball! We eventually split up--me with the wife, and Daniel with the husband. And I ended up going home by early afternoon. I had a good time, but no love connection. Oh well.
Daniel is a very sweet guy, and I'm sure he'll find a really nice woman some day. But I'm not her.
Back up to the weekend before. I was staying with my friends in Richmond, complaining about how I was going to meet men. When I moved to DC, I was in a couple, so I didn't think much about cultivating friendships with guys, mostly because I just didn't hang out with many of them other than my college best friend L. So, the wife, ever the aspiring matchmaker, starts hounding her husband about people he knows at work. He mentioned that there was a new Brazilian contractor who was my age, single, and a nice guy. But in typical guy form, he couldn't answer the question of how attractive he was.
Now, ok, looks aren't everything, but they are something.
Back up to Friday night. I'm hanging out with friends in Cleveland Park, and one of the guys is Brazilian. He starts giving me shit, and I'm giving it right back to him ("You're from Brazil, and you can't do the samba?? What kind of Brazilian are you if you can't dance the fucking samba?"), and he begins making annoying comments like, "I hope your date is ugly and can't dance."
Saturday morning comes around, and I am nursing my not-too-severe hangover, and I start getting texts from my friend. The day before I'd asked her to please text me a ranking between 1-10, to which she responded, "Well, if you were older, how would you rank my husband? I want to get a sense of your taste." Feeling slightly awkward, I replied, "Oh, he'd score very high!" As soon as I hit send, she had replied, "Or rank a celebrity if that's less weird." Yes, it certainly would've been less awkward than admitting I had a serious crush on her absolutely gorgeous husband.
Anyway, the texts start coming. "He's not particularly attractive, not ugly. He's kind of nerdy, but very sweet." Ok, this begins to worry me, but I think, "Well, maybe we'll click. You never know." Then she texts, "He's very nice once you get over the shorts." Oh. Dear. God.The shorts, as it turned out, were this hideous bright plaid that could be seen from one of the National Mall to the other.
Now let me just say what a nightmare it is for a local person to go to the National Mall on a Saturday in August. It is a big fucking nightmare! All of the things I hate about DC all in one place--crowds, lack of Metro etiquette, heat, tourists, etc. What's even worse is when people expect you to show them around and act like a tour guide. The only time I go to the National Mall is to play kickball! We eventually split up--me with the wife, and Daniel with the husband. And I ended up going home by early afternoon. I had a good time, but no love connection. Oh well.
Daniel is a very sweet guy, and I'm sure he'll find a really nice woman some day. But I'm not her.
Extrovert, Meet Introvert
I had not one but two birthday celebrations this past week. I know that sounds excessive, but the second was a joint bash with my best friend from college. He'd hired a cover band to play at one of his favorite bars, and since his birthday is the day after mine, he invited me to come and bring my friends. So I doubled up the evite guest list and came ready to party.
Remember the needy girl I described who is lacking in the social skills area? Before our party was to begin, I get a call from her. Not only is she already at the party venue, but she has come straight from the airport and has her large suitcase in tow. At a bar. On a Friday night. Meanwhile I'm in the middle of having dinner with my friend. Ay yay yay. Anyway, it all ended up being fine but not exactly the fun beginning to the evening I was looking for.
Once I had a few drinks (mostly purchased by my awesome friends!) and the band started playing, I was getting into the party spirit and dancing like a crazy person. SCL, on the other hand, was not. This is not surprising. SCL is an uber introvert and prefers playing trivia in a small group than standing in the middle of a crowded bar. I can't really blame him--in fact, if it hadn't been my birthday, I probably would've felt similarly. My birthday buddy's group of friends is a bit on the douchey side, and for the first part of the night they dominated the crowd.
At around midnight, SCL said he wanted to go home. A few months ago this would've bothered me a lot. I used to think we needed to come and go together to things like this, and I may have thought, "Ok, then I'll go home, too." But this was my party, and a lot of my friends were still there. I didn't want to go home! SCL said he'd wait up for me, so I kissed him good-bye and went on dancing without him.
When I got home, he was, in true SCL form, watching Star Trek. Classic. We both sat down with a hunk of that delicious chocolate birthday cake and stayed up into the wee hours of the morning. I'm seeing that I don't need SCL by my side all the time to have fun. In fact, there are times when it's more fun to be by myself. And I'm also learning that just because SCL doesn't dance like a crazy person, that doesn't mean he wasn't having a good time. So, he and I are different. A lot different. But at the end of the night, he's the one I want to have cake with.
Remember the needy girl I described who is lacking in the social skills area? Before our party was to begin, I get a call from her. Not only is she already at the party venue, but she has come straight from the airport and has her large suitcase in tow. At a bar. On a Friday night. Meanwhile I'm in the middle of having dinner with my friend. Ay yay yay. Anyway, it all ended up being fine but not exactly the fun beginning to the evening I was looking for.
Once I had a few drinks (mostly purchased by my awesome friends!) and the band started playing, I was getting into the party spirit and dancing like a crazy person. SCL, on the other hand, was not. This is not surprising. SCL is an uber introvert and prefers playing trivia in a small group than standing in the middle of a crowded bar. I can't really blame him--in fact, if it hadn't been my birthday, I probably would've felt similarly. My birthday buddy's group of friends is a bit on the douchey side, and for the first part of the night they dominated the crowd.
At around midnight, SCL said he wanted to go home. A few months ago this would've bothered me a lot. I used to think we needed to come and go together to things like this, and I may have thought, "Ok, then I'll go home, too." But this was my party, and a lot of my friends were still there. I didn't want to go home! SCL said he'd wait up for me, so I kissed him good-bye and went on dancing without him.
When I got home, he was, in true SCL form, watching Star Trek. Classic. We both sat down with a hunk of that delicious chocolate birthday cake and stayed up into the wee hours of the morning. I'm seeing that I don't need SCL by my side all the time to have fun. In fact, there are times when it's more fun to be by myself. And I'm also learning that just because SCL doesn't dance like a crazy person, that doesn't mean he wasn't having a good time. So, he and I are different. A lot different. But at the end of the night, he's the one I want to have cake with.
Happy Birthday to Me!: Reflections on This Year
Today is my 27th birthday! I have a fun evening planned of dinner with SCL, homemade chocolate cake (SCL's creation), and karaoke with my Glee-watching friends (got to find something to do on those Tuesday nights now that the show is done). I though it'd be interesting to do a reflection on the past year because so much has changed.
Just about a year ago, I was living in Connecticut, finishing up my fellowship and preparing to move to DC to start my new job and move into my new apartment with SCL. We moved in together and began looking at rings. I learned to adjust to a smaller paycheck and struggled to adjust to living in a new city. And it only took a few months for me to realize I hated my job and went looking for another one. I got pretty discouraged in the process until my dream job came along.
After about six months of living together SCL and I struggled to resist falling into a pattern of living like roommates. I worried about having a lot more money than him. I began to spending a lot more time doing work-related things. We broke up. I went to therapy. I started to get over it. I danced on a bar and took my anger out on some of SCL's things. Then he came back to me. I found my own place to live. I stood up to SCL when his behavior sucked. I'm still learning to listen to my gut and saying goodbye to our apartment.
I can't even begin to wrap my mind around how much my life and my expectations about my life have changed. If you'd asked me on my 26th birthday what I thought I'd be doing on my 27th, I would never have said moving out of my apartment with SCL (with no ring on my finger to boot). At the same time, I never thought I'd have such an amazing job with all signs looking like I'll be able to get a second year of funding, not to mention a second part-time consultant job on the horizon. The work front has exceeded any expectation I'd had while my personal life has confused the hell out of me. I'm learning I'm blessed to have the former at all.
But I've also learned again that I am strong as hell and nothing will break me, even if my heart breaks. Who knows what the next year will bring. Maybe SCL will grow up. Maybe we'll grow apart. Maybe my work will take me 6,000 miles away from DC. Whatever it is, I can handle it, especially with my blog friends here to cheer me on.
Just about a year ago, I was living in Connecticut, finishing up my fellowship and preparing to move to DC to start my new job and move into my new apartment with SCL. We moved in together and began looking at rings. I learned to adjust to a smaller paycheck and struggled to adjust to living in a new city. And it only took a few months for me to realize I hated my job and went looking for another one. I got pretty discouraged in the process until my dream job came along.
After about six months of living together SCL and I struggled to resist falling into a pattern of living like roommates. I worried about having a lot more money than him. I began to spending a lot more time doing work-related things. We broke up. I went to therapy. I started to get over it. I danced on a bar and took my anger out on some of SCL's things. Then he came back to me. I found my own place to live. I stood up to SCL when his behavior sucked. I'm still learning to listen to my gut and saying goodbye to our apartment.
I can't even begin to wrap my mind around how much my life and my expectations about my life have changed. If you'd asked me on my 26th birthday what I thought I'd be doing on my 27th, I would never have said moving out of my apartment with SCL (with no ring on my finger to boot). At the same time, I never thought I'd have such an amazing job with all signs looking like I'll be able to get a second year of funding, not to mention a second part-time consultant job on the horizon. The work front has exceeded any expectation I'd had while my personal life has confused the hell out of me. I'm learning I'm blessed to have the former at all.
But I've also learned again that I am strong as hell and nothing will break me, even if my heart breaks. Who knows what the next year will bring. Maybe SCL will grow up. Maybe we'll grow apart. Maybe my work will take me 6,000 miles away from DC. Whatever it is, I can handle it, especially with my blog friends here to cheer me on.
Here's to an Entire Day of Not Acting Like a Psycho!
Yesterday was a huge accomplishment for me. I went through the entire day without making a single comment about our "relationship" or whatever it is the fuck SCL and I doing! This is a first for me. Yes, I do over-analyze things. Yes, I do agonize over things. Yes, I do worry about things constantly. This is a trait I adopted from my beloved mother. I am trying to work on it.
So, I wrote yesterday's post from the airport just a few minutes before learning that my flight would be delayed, I would miss my connection, and the next connecting flight to Springfield, IL wouldn't be until 6:30 that evening. Great, just great. They might as well tell me that the next flight wasn't until November. I'd been up since the ass-crack of dawn to get to the airport, and now hours later I had to turn around and head home. At least it was a beautiful day and I actually got to enjoy most of it.
SCL had plans for the evening, but I though it'd be nice to go on a walk. I wanted him to show me the place he's seriously considering living for the next year. It's very nice and close to where we live now. And I genuinely was happy for him. I can tell that this is going to be good for him, and hopefully us, too.
I'm still really trying to get to know him again, so I've started asking him random questions about his life that don't have anything to do with our relationship. I had no idea that he wanted to be an astronaut when he was a little kid or that he was attempting to sight-read better on the piano. We had a relaxed conversation, the kind I wish we'd had more of in the past. There are so many things I wish I could take back, but all I can do is try to do is move forward. I also told him I'd like to listen to Ben Folds because he's so into his music even though I'm not sure I understand why. Rebuilding our friendship is important to me. I guess I'd gotten so caught up in the relationship and our future that I probably neglected the friendship that we have.
Later that evening I was having a chili cheeseburger at the infamous Ben's Chili Bowl (though I couldn't tell you why it's so famous honestly) with a guy friend that I suspect has a crush on me. I told him SCL had plans to go out salsa dancing, which is entirely uncharacteristic of him but probably another attempt for him to reinvent himself. I'm all for it. Guy friend says, "Let's show up and I'll flirt with you and make him jealous!" I think he was actually semi-serious about this. Um, no thanks. Last thing I want to be is a psycho.
I'm still uncertain as to where things are going, but for now I'm trying not to focus on it too much. I have no idea what our therapy session tomorrow will be like, but I'm hoping for the best. I think what I'm realizing is that I want SCL to be my friend for a long time. He makes me laugh like no one else can (and he's honestly not even very funny in general), and we do share a connection that is worth fighting for. I hope he sees that, too.
Did I Just Dance on a Bar?
Yes, yes I did. After a morning of mopey me, I decided to get my ass up, take a bath, shave my legs, and get ready for some Sunday Funday kickball. The Metro was fucked up, so I decided to ride my POS bike down to the Mall. Such a surprisingly fantastic idea. It was a little cool for biking, so no one was out on the trail. It's mostly a downhill ride that way, and I was feeling like a fast badass on my awesome/POS bike. Of course once I got close to the Washington Monument, I had to navigate through the hoards of tourists, but there was a certain sick pleasure in nearly running over at least a dozen of them.
I get there, find my team, and proceed to kick serious ass on the field, even though I totally had forgotten the rules of kickball. Sorry, team, haven't played in about 15 years! But despite my idiocy, our team dominated and hey, there's nothing better than winning a game of kickball, right?
Then, the real games started at the bar: flip cup, drunk ball (no idea how this is actually played), beer bong, and a combination of all of them, blackout. Nothing illustrates how locked up and sheltered I've been for two years than playing made-up drinking games. I start panicking because people get really fucking serious about these games, much more so than actual kickball, and I'm already feeling a little buzzed. Not exactly in the right state of mind to follow the obscure rules of a new drinking game.
I'm told I will be "anchor" for blackout. Shit! That sounds important, what do I do? I must've asked about a million times. I'm told to drink and flip (can do that) and then when the whole team is done, I'm going to shoot like in beer pong. Ok, I can do that, too. I think. If I miss, they go a second round (pressure!). If I make it, the game is over. This repeats until one of the team makes the shot. But do they really want me to shoot? The girl who hasn't played beer pong since senior year of college? It's too late for me to get out of it. Shit, ok. I can do this.
Round one, I miss. Fuck. Round two, I miss. FUCKITY FUCK. Then after I flip, this psycho girl starts to yell at me for no reason. She's screaming that I've drunk one of the cups they were supposed to be shooting into. What? I look down. She's right, I did. But seriously she was overreacting like whoa. It's no big deal. You fill up the cup, and put it back. She's acting like I took steroids or put cork in my bat. Finally, round three comes and I sink the ball. Wahoo! Feeling overzealous at my victory, I go over to psycho and say, "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't know that was my cup. But for real, this is not a serious game. Chill the fuck out."
This sassy new single life is really something else.
More antics continue. My new friend S, friend of my college best friend L, is taking me under her wing and really making me have fun, even when I'm feeling sorry for myself. She's having guy issues, which we talk through, and then decide to order another pitcher of beer. Then the DJ announces "Free shots for all the ladies on the bar!" My friend L says, "Get on the bar!" And I'm like, "Why the hell not?" S and I get up there and start acting a fool, dancing up on each other, trying to avoid uber-drunk and not very cute girl who's attempting a very sloppy pole dance.
The whole room is cheering for us, handing us drinks, and generally encouraging us way too much to stay up on the bar. And I have to say, it was probably the most fun I've had this week. I hate to admit it, but bar dancing is pretty fantastic. My friend L is shocked that I'm so fun now that I'm not in a relationship anymore. And although I don't want to make a habit of it, it is pretty awesome to have the freedom to spend a whole Sunday drinking, flirting, and dancing on the bar. I'm doing a lot of introspection and journaling and other navel-gazing activities, which are good for the soul, but after awhile, sometimes just dancing and acting silly is the best therapy.
Sassy New Single Life: Kickball Edition
I mentioned in my first Sassy New Single Life post that one of my best friends signed me up for a kickball team. This was something I'd wanted to do since I moved here but never did. Part of that was my own laziness, but the other part was that SCL didn't really want to play. I thought it would've been something fun for us to do together, so when he didn't want to, I just never signed up. Bummer, huh?
Yesterday was the opening of the NAKID (No, Adult Kickball Isn't Dumb) games. At first I didn't really want to go because I was exhausted from the weekend. But I'm really glad that I did because it was so much fun. I was a little apprehensive about it. I had flashbacks to elementary school and thinking it was going to be all the cool kids on the team, and I'd be off on the sidelines, ostracized as both the new kid AND the nerd. So not true. My team was awesome, and I fit right in.
Now the real games started at the bar afterward. Again, I was a little nervous about it. Flip cup? Beer pong? I hadn't played those since college. But kind of like riding a bike, those flips of the cup and throws of the ping pong ball came right back to me. It was a blast and by the fourth or so round of flip cup, I was getting it on the first try. I didn't even know that I enjoyed silliness like that anymore!
Kickball was also my first opportunity to flirt and be flirted with. I'd forgotten that I was cute and fun, and it was really flattering to know that there will be other guys out there who are attracted to me. Now, I don't think kickball is exactly where I want to meet my next boyfriend, but for now, it's definitely a good ego boost to have boys pay attention to me.
Next time though, I think I may keep better track of how many beers I have...
Do-Over Please: Encounter with Former College Roommate aka "Little Miss Perfect"
Last night there was a big alumni event for my college with about 300 people in attendance. A few months ago I'd gotten tickets for SCL and I to go, and I was really looking forward to it. It's always fun to show off the beautiful boyfriend to friends you haven't seen in awhile. But of course, things never work out the way I think they will.
Our alumni office is brilliant for many reasons, one of which is that when people register to attend an alumni event, they publish the names on an online attendee list. Back in February I was scanning the list and was shocked, horrified, and somewhat thrilled to see my freshman and sophomore year roommate's name on the list.
Let me give you a little background on this woman. She's a fucking blonde bombshell with huge (real) boobs, an hourglass figure, and perfect teeth. Do you all hate her already? She and I were actually good friends for the first year of our living together until she met her boyfriend, a senior hunky baseball player (now her husband), at a jungle-themed frat party and decided he'd be our third roommate. How fun for me, right? Things deteriorated, and we rarely spent time together after we both studied abroad in Florence our junior year. Despite this fact, I thought that after all the crap I put up with those two, I should have at least been invited to their grandiose wedding the summer after we graduated. Seriously, it was the least they could do after a year and a half of Three's Company in our tiny dorm room. I wasn't invited, and even though we weren't really friends anymore, I felt totally dissed and my feelings were hurt.
So a few weeks ago when I saw that she was coming to this event, I thought, "This is a great time to see her. I've really got my shit together now. I've got my ivy league degree, my awesome consultant job, and my beautiful boyfriend." I don't know why I even care about her--or that I thought she would give a rat's ass about what I was doing now. But for some reason she serves as a source of self-doubt and lack of confidence for me even to this day. I think it's because she at least has the appearance of having her life together. She married the first man she slept with, has a flawless face and figure, has lots of money, a wonderful family, and a great job as a lobbyist. Even in college, when the rest of us were packing on the pounds from pizza and beer, she maintained her svelte figure by eating broccoli in the cafeteria and doing leg lifts before going to bed. (She had seriously disordered eating, and I was one of the few people she told about it.) The college boys drooled over her and pursued her. Our first week we had a mixer with a guys' freshman hall, and one of them, whose father owned part of a professional baseball team, hired a magician for her because it was her birthday and hoped to woo her. Meanwhile I was crushing on a dorky sophomore who after I confessed I liked him told me "I'm not ready for a relationship right now" and then two weeks later started dating my friend. Seriously, FML.
Yesterday before I had to leave to go to the event, I was crying. I didn't want to go. I didn't want to see her and her fucking perfect self. But I put myself together as best I could, struggling over the perfect outside to impress her with, and went. I ran into her on the way in. She gave me a big hug. And y'all, she looked EXACTLY the same (except for a few deep wrinkles around her eyes which secretly gave me great joy. Should've stayed away from those tanning beds, babe!). "How's DC?" she asked. I told her all about my new job and how fab it is to work from home, trying to play up how great life is. "Where are you living?" I told her and then she asked, "By yourself?"
Now let's just stop here. Why in the HELL couldn't I have just said "Yes, by myself"? Because I'm a big doof, that's way. Instead of using that filter of mine that usually accompanies me in social settings, I say, "Well, I used to live with my boyfriend, but we just broke up." "Oh, I'm so sorry, " she said. And I think she really was. But I felt like an idiot. Why would I tell someone I'm not even friends with about the biggest pain of my life right now? I don't know why I did it. I felt like an idiot afterward. We chatted for a few minutes and said "see you inside", but we never said good-bye to each other. She, not surprisingly, didn't stay for the whole thing. I'm sure she had some fucking fantastic gala or other A-list event to get to. Secretly, I was relieved not to have to interact with her again.
This morning I'm still thinking about it, still beating myself up over it. Why did I have to open my mouth? Because I'm human, that's why. Because I'm not perfect. Because right now I'm an emotional mess and hurting. And even though I see her as perfect, I know that she's just a person like me. She might be better at concealing her humanness, but that doesn't change the fact that she is still a human being. And what I do know about her is that in order to maintain that image of perfection, she never takes risks. I remember how she used to back out of things, not put herself in a situation where she might fail. She did what was easy, comfortable, and least embarrassing, and frankly, that's not the kind of life I want to live.
I'm not blonde. I don't have big boobs or blue eyes. I don't have the perfect man by my side. But I take risks. I put myself out there all the time, and I get hurt. I'm hurting like hell right now. But I know that I am really living my life, not standing by as opportunities go by, too scared to take chance. And deep down I know that I'm pretty awesome all on my own.
My first post break-up date
I went out last night on a date--a date that SCL and I were supposed to have gone on together. For Valentine's Day he had gotten us tickets to see Chelsea Handler, not exactly a creative gift as we'd just seen Kathy Griffin at the same venue a few weeks prior, but one I was excited about nonetheless. Perhaps I should have suspected something then--when his Valentine's Day card thanked me for being a "best friend." I remember being disappointed that it didn't say more, that it didn't talk about our love, our partnership. I'd come not to expect SCL to share his emotions or his feelings about our relationship except for a few times a year: my birthday, Valentine's Day, and our anniversary. He'd write me these beautiful cards that would bring tears to my eyes. Not this Valentine's Day though. I should've known then. But who wants to suspect your relationship is winding down on VALENTINE'S DAY?
Anyway, we broke up last Sunday just moments before needing to go to Philadelphia together (great timing, huh? Men are fabulous about that), and on Monday the subject of these tickets came up. "Do you want to find someone else to go with you?" he asked me. "No, I want to go with you," I said. "I don't think that's a great idea," he replied. "I don't care. You can sell the tickets," I said with tears in my eyes. I didn't give a flying fuck about the tickets at that point. He'd just broken my heart, and why would I ever want to go somewhere that was supposed to be "ours"? After a few hours of thinking this over though, I became more indignant than sad. I was going to use those tickets, damn it.
So, when I got a facebook message from a guy I had dinner with a few weeks ago who was writing to say "sorry for your break up," I thought, maybe he'd want to go. Now let me qualify this by saying that when I met this guy, it was at a pro-choice fundraiser and he told me that he wanted to work on women's issues. Of course I assumed he was gay. And I was absolutely shocked a few weeks later when he mentioned a girlfriend. I wanted to ask, "Was your girlfriend's name Robert by chance?" I still think he's confused. But I nonetheless thought it would be kind of a nice little jab to take a guy--gay, straight, bisexual, or confused--with me.
We met for dinner beforehand. I got us seats at the bar (not datelike). We had beers and food. Chelsea Handler was ridiculously funny, and only at a few times did I think to myself, this was supposed to be SCL and me. I didn't miss him too much--I actually think I had more fun with non-date, possibly gay guy that I would have with SCL. But it felt strange. Afterward we went by the White House, which was all lit up. Now THIS felt like a date, and I felt uncomfortable. I kept saying how I really want to be single for awhile, and he kept telling me to keep my mind open. We talked about getting another drink, but I said I'd like to make it an early night and headed home. I'm glad I did. I needed go home and cry a bit. I've lost so much, and I still can't believe this is my life.
Sometimes I feel like I don't know myself at all. I stare at myself in the mirror and I wonder, who is that woman. I'd like to get to know her before I get into another relationship. Otherwise I think I'll be looking to find her in another person. And she's never going to be there.
Fabulous Friday
So, yes, I'm bummed. I'm heartbroken. Blah blah. That is not all that's going on with me. Remember I have a kick ass job? A kick ass job that gets me really cool opportunities? Check this out. In just a few minutes I'll be leaving to go to a meeting in the (wait for it)---WHITE HOUSE. That's right! I got an invitation for a young women's outreach meeting hosted by the Office of Public Engagement and Office on Women and Girls. I've never been in the White House, not even for a tour, so this is super, super cool news. By far the coolest DC thing I've been invited to yet.
So, go me! Wahoo! It's really wonderful to have fun things to look forward to and do in the middle of all this crappy stuff.
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