Westside Story 11/20/2009
I’m a horrible person and I’m going to hell. No, no, don’t feel sorry for me. This time it’s for real. Why, you ask? Because of Flame Boy (who will now be referred to as West Side Story. If you don’t know why then you aren’t paying enough attention). Yesterday I received this text message from him: “So am I waiting to hear from you or are you waiting to hear from me as to seeing each other again? Or are you hoping I’ll forget? *smirk*” AGAIN, what grown man writes *smirk* in a text message?!? And for the record, I was sort of hoping that he would forget. I’m not any better at giving rejection than I am at receiving it. I responded that due to my current circumstances and with so much on my mind I had actually just forgotten. Which was totally true. To make a long story short and to keep this post from turning into a woe is me story I’ll keep it brief. A few nights ago my roommate gave me notice of him moving out in February via text message at 1am. No explanation. Nothing. What pisses me off is that after busting my ass to keep my apartment while unemployed it now looks like my fathers couch is beckoning to me once more. Also, I’ve found that two months is about as long as one can go before Time Warner Cable expects you to pay. Go figure. W.S.S. apologized for being pushy (aww, low confidence…attractive) and offered to make me dinner at my place (redeeming some points by using food). But why at my place? Well, because he lives with his grandmother. My first thought? What grown man lives with g-ma? Second thought? I’m totally going to hell because he’s helping take care of the old bat and I just made fun of him. Then he actually sent me a picture of his sausage with a note saying he was trying to entice me and make me smile. And I don’t mean his “saaauuusage” either. He actually sent me a picture of the sausage he was cooking. How endearing yet *lame*. What am I supposed to do with this guy? He’s too fucking adorable to turn down. I responded that despite that being the best “sausage” picture I have yet to receive from any man I was going to have to pass. His response: “So long as you don’t have a sausage picture of your own to show ME! That would be disappointing. Might have to question my sexuality! *frightened*” OH. MY. GOD! Somehow, considering that I’m already questioning his sexuality something tells me he might not be so disappointed if I whipped out a sausage of my own. Also, what’s up with the screenplay text messages? Really?!? I also received these texts from him: “I never admitted how brutally attractive you were to me, did I? Wouldn’t want to give away company secrets. Ya know?” ME: Thanks “I am willing to admit to a new found weakness for sultry blondes with soft hips, smooth skin and a kiss to go to confession for :-)” I’m in trouble. He’s so going to fall in love with me. I have to admit though, he is sort of growing on me but in a gay best friend sort of way. He deserves a much nicer lady than what I have to offer. I’m just a chain smoking, vodka drinking, sport fucking blonde with money problems. I would break him like a toothpick and I just don’t have the heart to be mean to such a nice guy. Ladies…who wants to take him off my hands? Although, explaining how you got his number after reading my blog calling him West Side Story might be a little awkward and the end to our friendship. P.S. I did meet up with the thug from my Shallow post this past Monday. Totally HOT! And remarkably sweet and respectful too. Although, not so sweet that I want to vomit. Stay tuned for that post… Shallow, Party Of One! 11/15/2009
Before I get started, I feel as though I must address my last entry in regards to Flame Boy. I received many responses via email and comments about giving him a chance (all of which I wholeheartedly embrace and appreciate!) But let me try to explain a little further, in my defense. I’m not intentionally trying to be harsh but there was just something about him that made me curl up inside. I appreciate enthusiasm but flamboyance is something that I question and just can not find myself attracted to. I like my men to be…well, MEN. I definitely wouldn’t mind keeping him as a friend but that in itself may be a very fine line to maintain especially considering that I received this text from him yesterday… “I have 2moro off *smirk*. Care for me to give you that cooking lesson?” Seriously? What guy writes *smirk* in a text message??? So no, I will not be getting a cooking lesson from Mr. Flamboyant. I do realize that I’m perpetuating the stereotype of women only wanting bad boys but I don’t agree with that completely. It’s not that I want a boy that’s bad I just don’t want a boy that’s THAT good. An edge would be nice. And somebody that I can’t describe using the word “cheesy”. The way he tells his stories is like he’s auditioning for West Side Story. Sorry, that’s just not my style. Now that that’s clear, you can disregard everything I’ve just said for the following post is going to prove what a hypocritical woman I really am. Yet one more reason why I’M still single ;-) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I’m going to have sex on Monday or Tuesday of next week with a guy that wants to “kikk” it. I know, I know, ya’ll think I’m nuts. What-EVER. Following is our short but riveting email exchange: VD: hey doll how are u doin....what did u get n2 4 halloween Me: Hey there! Halloween was pretty tame. What about your Halloween? Get into any trouble ;-) VD: no trouble yet....lol so when are we goin 2 kikk it....what is ur number so we kan hangout Me: What's your schedule like? Then we can determine when we will be able to "kikk" it...I'm pretty open...Btw, what's your name? VD: im mostly free @ nite and sumtimes during the wk....and my name is Vick....whats ur name Me: My name is Melisa. My schedule is fairly open so let me know when you feel like meeting up or giving me a call... VD: we kan meet up sumtime dis wk......and what is ur number so i kan giv u a kall... VD: hey Mel...hows ur wk goin.. Me: My week is going along fine. How is yours? VD: mine is so so ....kant wait until da wkend, so kan we hangout dis wk Me: Give me a call. My number is 555-1212 I’m going to apologize now because I realize that reading through our email correspondences you may have lost a few brain cells. His writing skills insult my intelligence and make my eyes bleed. I don’t usually respond to grown men that need a tutor but let me tell you that after looking at his pictures and seeing his 6’4” physique shirtless I’m willing to make that sacrifice. Again proving how incredibly shallow I can be. After dealing with his retard speak I almost didn’t give him my number. Almost. But what can I say? I have no other real prospects in site so I wouldn’t mind adding just one more notch on the bedpost with Mr. 6’4”, 8-pack, 96” bicep stud muffin. Can you really blame me? I’m looking forward to hitting that in a bad way. Aside from that, I really was quite surprised at how articulate and sensible he sounded over the phone. What I was expecting was some cocky stud with only a slight grasp of his native tongue. English. But what I encountered was somebody that even at 26 seemed to know the playing field. He made sense and not once did I every hear him call me “son” or “you’s”. I was impressed. He was also quite insightful when it came to the way he looked at relationships and dating. So, even though I don’t see a great whirlwind, soul mate type of romance ahead I do see some good times that I may or may not be busting out the video camera for. Stay tuned… Gay Or Just Too Nice 11/11/2009
Somewhere along the way during my adult dating life, I lost my conscience. I’m not sure where it has gone or why but it has officially left the building. I’ve considered putting out an APB on it but can’t figure out if it would be worth the time. Let me ‘splain… Last night I had an impromptu date with someone I had chatted with online but never actually met. I believe our initial contact was through AmericanSingles.com about five years ago. Nothing ever came of it and I had long forgotten about Mr. Nice Guy but when he added me on Facebook about a year and a half ago, I was all for it. Great sense of humor, cutish and employed. Perfect. I fully believe that the reason we didn’t meet was because of me. With my self diagnosed A.D.D. I often times will give the online dating thing a rest for several months to regroup so I think he was just an unfortunate consequence of bad timing. Through Facebook, we reconnected and I was reminded at how funny, amusing and down to earth Mr. Nice Guy was. We didn’t have a constant stream of communication but would chit chat every now and again. This time around it seemed more platonic than romantic. At least on my end. Sure, we flirted here and there but nothing hard core where I got the feeling as though I just had to meet him right then and there. Until last night. I was bored and so was he. He commented that he had some Malibu Rum so I gave him directions and told him that I had the perfect place to store such a delicacy. My tummy. An hour and a half later I was buzzing him into my building. Not only did he bring the Rum but he also brought a cooler full of food. He had BBQ’d steak, sautéed vegetables, beans and a baked potato. Considering I would rather starve then boil water his ability to cook and share almost made me want to show him my “O” face before the formal introductions had even been completed. He was cuter than his pictures which was a pleasant surprise. We had nice conversation while fixing and heating our plates. But there was just something about him that gave me the feeling that I would not be sleeping with him that night. Or any night. He was more soft spoken than I’m used to and almost effeminate without being girly. He was…well, for lack of a better word…sweet. It was also at this time that I came to the stark realization that if a man isn’t carrying a club and trying to drag me by the hair I automatically assume he’s gay. This was the case here. I’m not sure why I equated sweet with gay but for some reason I did. He really just seemed…too nice. We settled down to eat and he began sharing stories with me about his karaoke adventures and past Halloween costumes (apparently he makes a good looking woman?). He was nothing short of flamboyant and I found myself forcing myself to laugh just so to not hurt his feelings as he did appear to be somewhat nervous around me still. He definitely gets an A for effort. He was cute and adorable with his story telling in only a way that can be described as me wanting to pinch his cheeks and put him in my pocket. Especially when he shared his impression of a Spanish Steve Irwin. He was…well, adorable. GAH! In case you all haven’t read a single word I’ve ever written, I’m not the “adorable”, “nice” or “sweet” kind of gal. I’m hard, I’m cold and I’m often times a bitch. And that’s on a good day. We kept drinking and I had offered to let him stay the night in case he had too much too drink. Which, by the looks of it was pretty much after I’d opened the first bottle. Pfft, lightweights. He continued to talk and share. I continued to listen and look interested. As the night wore on I secretly wished I had rescinded my offer but he was clearly making himself at home. The later it got the more obvious it became he had no intention of leaving. By this point, he was warning me that he was going to start flirting with me and that my pictures hadn’t done me justice. He still hadn’t so much as touched my hand so him telling me that he was going to start flirting with me was highly amusing. Especially considering that I wasn’t sure if I was his type or my roommate Mike was. He went to change and get ready for bed since our fate had been sealed. Five minutes later he came out in a tank out and dolphin shorts. Okay, totally kidding here, he was in regular shorts but just imagine how great my story would have been if he came out dressed as Richard Simmons! Anyway, I’m not sure what he was carrying in his overnight bag but he suddenly had biceps. Nice, beautiful biceps. Apparently, he was talking to me but the moment I saw those beautifully sculpted arms my mind went blank. It took me a minute to actually realize he was talking to me. He laughed and I snapped out of it. He offered to sleep on the couch but I said he could join me in bed. All thoughts of him being gay had been swept out the window when he put that tank top on. We talked a little more and finally Flame Boy attempted a kiss. Suddenly Flame Boy wasn’t so flaming. I’m not sure what switch turned on but something happened and he suddenly had the confidence and self assurance of a male gigolo. I can honestly say without hesitation that he was the best make out partner I’ve ever had in terms of skill. I complimented him on his abilities for I like to give credit where credit is due. To which he replied… “Do you remember the end in Revenge of the Nerds where the cheerleader was amazed at the nerd’s ability to make love? He said it was because they’ve had plenty of time to practice. That’s me. I’m a nerd.” I couldn’t stop laughing. He was being adorable all over again! If it weren’t for the fact that I knew he was 37 I would have sworn I was in bed with a 14 year old virgin. And no, for the record, I did not sleep with him. The next morning he took off and I was left reeling trying to decipher what had just happened. It hadn’t been an evening of unrequited lust and wandering hands. It had been a simple night of good food, a few cocktails and conversation. It couldn’t have been any milder if I had been alone. Here’s my problem. He’s a perfectly nice and good looking gentleman. What’s wrong with me that I can’t just like him? On paper he’s perfect. He’s got a great personality and he seems to be a caring and thoughtful person. I know how awful and clichéd this sounds but he really is just too nice. I don’t feel that spark. I want to pet him and give him a water dish, not have mind blowing mattress falling off the box spring sex (which by the way, has happened to me before. I’m not bragging or anything but I am). And despite him turning into Super Stud behind the bedroom doors I just don’t feel that umph! A few hours later I got a text from him basically telling me what a good time he had and how he looked forward to seeing me again. I have a feeling that without realizing it, I may potentially yet inadvertently hurt him. I’m a hypocrite. All I’ve done is ask for a good man with good intentions. I get one and I accuse him of being gay and nice? Yep, I have some serious issues. Now, on to Geico.com in search of my caveman. My hair was getting a little too thick anyway… **Please note that I have no problem with men that are gay. I just choose not to have intimate relationships with them. They never put out... TB Anyone 11/09/2009
I’m happy to report that I may have picked up a job…FINALLY. It’s a part time job, but a job none the less. Thanks to Mr. Creepy High School Science Teacher Guy. He runs a program that tutors underprivileged children. So, as excited as I am to finally get a chance to make a couple of bucks, there’s one glaring problem. The job includes tutoring children. Oh well, say la vie. In order to begin my new adventure I was informed that I would need to take a TB test and a Livescan (fingerprinting) before starting. Imagine my surprise and dismay at hearing this news. I mean, who has TB anymore? Really? Naturally, I don’t have health insurance so Mr. Creepy’s secretary referred me to a free clinic that could take care of this for me. She also took pity on me and sent me the $20 it would take to get the fingerprinting done. Sounds easy enough, right? Wrong. Text Convo to my best bud: Me: I have 1/8th tank of gas and $14. I still have to ship that scarf AND drive to Glendale for the TB testing and Livescan AND drive to training for the tutoring in San Fernando tomorrow. Me: AND they only sent me $20 for the Livescan. The one they want costs $25. So basically now I have 1/8th tank of gas and $9. Awesome. B: Your shot 4 TB is free rite??? It’s never ending, huh? Me: Yes. Well, I’m off. Gonna do as much as I can b4 running out of money. Just pray that I don’t have to pay for parking anywhere! B: Good luck! 15 minutes later… Me: Apparently 1/8th was being generous. My car is on E sitting in traffic. Great. 10 minutes later… Me: I’m using my laundry coins for parking. I hate Glendale. I’d rather have herpes than come to this shithole. B: Do u ever use coins 2 put gas in the car? Me: I’m parked a block away so I didn’t have to park in the garage and my flip flops have a hole in the heel. I can’t even afford a $2 pair of flip flops! 20 minutes later… Me: Damn. I’m done with the fingerprinting but can’t hit the clinic for another hour. Ugh. Me: I am parked in front of the Glendale PD. Guess I could just wait here and pray for a cute cop to walk by. B: U got a license? And insurance? B careful! Me: I’ve got insurance. License is questionable. My reg is expired tho B: Geesh! Hang in there One hour later in the free clinic parking lot… Me: I guess I’m not the only one struggling. The car next to me has a screwdriver shoved in the door to open it. Me: Ok, I’m off to be ghetto fabulous in this back alley free clinic! Ego…bye bye! B: B careful! 5 minutes later… Me: OMG! This is sooooo ghetto! Me: If I didn’t have the swine flu virus b4 now I’m sure I’m going to be leaving with it Me: And I’m going to be here a while. This fucking sucks B: People sick in there? Gross! Me: Oh gawd! I’ve heard 2 sneezes. I’m gonna die B: Ugh, don’t touch anything! Me: I’m. Not. Happy. AT ALL! Me: A guy just walked in with a mask on coughing. I can’t believe I’m here. I’m not even sick! But I will be after this shit. I’m pissed! Me: Get me the fuck out of here! That’s it…my last 9 dollars r going towards a pack of cigarettes B: U ran? Me: No, I’m sure I’m already infected with the death virus. I want to run tho. B: Haha, I don’t blame you! Me: I’m seriously fucking grossed out. And the worst part? That I have to come back in 2 days to get the results. Me: Doesn’t being positive for the swine flu negate the fact that I’m going to be negative for TB? Just wondering… B: Good point Me: I think I’m already getting a headache! It worked fast! I’m already dying! Me: Somebody just sneezed then somebody burped. Fucking gross!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! B: Ok, you’re making me laugh. Please stop! I’m bustin up! HAHA Me: OMG! If these bitches mispronounce my name I’m killing somebody… Me: Great, I just got scoped by the fucking masked sick man Me: Oh, I’m up! BRB 10 minutes later... Me: All they did was take my blood pressure. I told them I was perfectly healthy…for NOW. Some bitch tried to tape me! B: Tape you? Me: Looks like they are doing some documentary. She asked if they could tape taking my blood pressure. I told them no. I didn’t come here to be a star. Me: I think I have lice now Me: And the flesh eating virus B: Ummmmm, not fun Me: Ms. Documentary is killing me B: Why? Me: Bcuz now her perky ass is back in the waiting room with me asking if she can talk to people on camera Me: This is truly ridiculous. My body is being infiltrated by germs. I can feel it! B: I bet! Is it crowded? Me: About 50 people. Me: Have you ever noticed you never see good looking people in places like this? I’m too fucking pretty to be here damnit! B: U r rite! U shouldn’t be there! Me: Oh! My turn again! I’ll keep you posted! 5 minutes later… Me: OMG! Spielberg is back! She’s following me, I just know it! OMG AGAIN! The doc says that he may not be able to give me the TB test…he’s checking with somebody else… B: Good luck with that 2 minutes later… Me: U r gonna love this. They don’t test for TB here. Mr. Creepy’s secretary is the one who sent me here! 2 hours and the swine flu later… B: Lice and flesh eating disease 2 Me: I’m fucking livid B: O I’m sure Me: u know, I could have gotten a livescan done 2 blocks from my house but I went to Glendale cuz that’s where the clinic was. I wasted my time, gas and money. Fuck! Me: and now I’m probably infected with God knows what. I don’t know if I should cry or stab somebody. Let me be clear here. I did tell the incompetent idiots at the clinic why I was there WHEN I got there. But apparently, they felt it necessary to wait until I was fully saturated with the pig bug before looking at me blankly in the eye and referring me out to another clinic. Which, at that time of evening was closed. So yes, another trip to beautiful Glendale was in my future. The next day… As if the back alley free clinic wasn’t bad enough, the place I was referred to was an STD clinic and the TB test would cost me $5. Considering I had $9 left to my name and no gas, they may as well have told me the test ran $500. But I tried to look at the bigger picture. I made my way back down to Glendale and…wait for it…wait for it…got turned away. They already had their quota of diseased folk for the day waiting to see the doc. Soooooo, not only did I catch the deathbug and headlice from the free clinic the night before but now I probably have syphilis too. Fuck you very much. But all is not lost. I talked to Mr. Creepy and told him I would NOT be going back to STD Central. He offered to pay for me to see a private doctor and get the testing done there. I called and my appointment is two days from now. Word. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ On a completely unrelated note, I have three dating disaster…ah er…potentials I’ve been working on since last week. I’ll keep you posted… |