Wuss vs. Wuss. Which one is Wussier? Part 1

Alright, back to the juicy stuff. Mmmmm, boys.

I've decided to lump the two most recent lame excuses for men together in an effort to compare and contrast. The first, I was just not that into. The second was just not that into me. Both are wusses in their own right.

There are two major themes for this blog. Karaoke and Performance Issues. Yes, those kinds of performance issues. Ohhh, this is gonna be good.

Now you all know of my undying love for karaoke. If it were a hot-bodied male, I would marry it and make babies. But since that is not the case, my next best option would be to meet a hot-bodied male who likes to sing karaoke. This is proving to be a lot more difficult than anticipated.

Guy #1. We'll call him Alan, for conversation's sake. Alan and I met at... wait for it...

Karaoke. Friend of a friend who turned out to be friends with many of my friends. Nice guy. Likes to sing karaoke. Likes to dance. Quite good at it actually. A real estate agent. Owns a house. Sounds good so far, right? Waiting for that catch, aren't you?

Well, here it is. Not hot-bodied. Maybe to some girls, but not this girl. Try as I might, I could not find myself even remotely physically attracted to this guy. But it doesn't mean that we can't hang out, right? Be friends? Maybe if we hang out long enough, I'll become attracted to him. It's happened before. Sometimes it just takes time.

There were two immediate problems with this scenario. One is that I'm simply not in the mood to wait around to be attracted to someone at this juncture. I need fireworks, and quickly. I'm not looking for Mr. Right. I'm looking for Mr. Right Now. The other is that Mr. Alan was also not in the mood to wait around for me to be attracted to him. Mr. Alan was sweet on me, and fast. I tried to slow it down, but it was like trying to politely ask a bull to stop barreling towards a red cape.

This is where Guy #2 comes in. Let's call him Jebadiah. Or Jeb for short.

The second time Alan and I hang out was again at a karaoke night with a big group of friends. He starts buying my beers. Uh oh. He's hovering big time. Uh oh. That's when I see Jeb up on stage. Cute. Reminds me of a fling I had years ago. Mustache. Interesting. Sings a really old song that I used to love! So at the next opportunity I ask him about the song and thank him for singing it. A little conversation ensues, and the next thing I know, there's Alan, hovering again. This is going to be a problem.

As I've become a big advocate of not drinking and driving, my friends had graciously offered me their couch to sleep on. So after karaoke, the ever popular after hours party ensued, which to my pleasant surprise included a visit to the neighbors' hot tub. Even though I'm moderately intoxicated, I still have the presence of mind to sit on the opposite side of the hot tub from Alan and avoid eye contact. He'll have to be leaving soon, right?

Not so much... He's staying too. Dammit. Well, that's fine, but he can sleep on the other couch. I dunno ladies, if you were hanging out with a guy you were really into, and he made you sleep on the other couch, wouldn't that give you the impression that he's just not interested? I thought my actions that night (you know, like flirting with other guys, sitting as far away from him as possible, not sharing a couch) had made it clear that I wanted to be friends, and no more. Le sigh.

So, back to Jeb. While I'm wasting my strength trying to hold back the bull, I happen upon my mustached cutie again. This time at a Haiti benefit at one of my favorite clubs in the city. I work up the nerve to talk to him again. Aren't you ladies proud of me? And it worked out to my benefit, because I found out that his brother runs a karaoke night right by my new apartment! Jeb says, "You should come this Tuesday, I'll be there!" Well, my friend, that is a distinct possibility.

In the meantime, I must fend off the other dude, again. And this time, I wasn't so successful. I'm at a friend's awesome birthday party, and Alan comes up to me and says, "Hey! A bunch of us are going over to this other guy's house because he has a karaoke system. Wanna come?" I have a split second to decide, and I decide yes. Bad decision.

Because by "A bunch of us" Alan actually meant he and I and one other couple that I didn't know. And we had to ride with this other couple about 15 mins away from the party to get to a house full of more people that I didn't know. And when I decided that I didn't want to stay there any longer, we had to get a cab back, just the two of us.

The rest of the night I blame on his desperation and my inability to tell people things they don't want to hear.

I wanted to spend the night on one friend's couch. She had left the door unlocked for me. Somehow I ended up at another friend's house on a different couch with Alan. So I say, "Look Alan, I just got out of a relationship with someone you know, and I'm not really interested in dating anyone right now." His response?

"Well, will you at least kiss me?"

Huh? Had I been any less intoxicated, I would have pushed him off the couch and run like hell. What a stupid, desperate thing to say. How lame is this guy?

Maybe I should quit drinking. Seriously. Because my intoxicated self did not run like hell. My intoxicated self thought, "Why not? Maybe I'll like it."

Eww. Not. So. Much.

Have you ladies ever kissed someone that you're not attracted to? If not, I'll try to adequately explain. Eww. Yuck. Not a pleasant experience. Kind of gives you a not-so-fresh feeling in your gut. Kind of makes you wish you were so drunk that you don't even remember it.

So when I woke up 5 hours later on the same couch as Alan, I tried ever so gently to sneak out of there as fast as possible without waking him.

"Hey! Do you mind if I catch a ride home with you?"

DOH! Dammit.

So, of course. I give the guy a ride home. I make sure not to commit to any future hangings out. He says "give me a call", and I say "ok" without making eye contact. He kisses my neck and hugs me. I do what I have to do not to vomit.

This is where I start to feel like an asshole. I going to have to tell him that I'm not interested. And this time, he's going to have to listen.

But in typical MA style, I avoid him for a week first. And in atypical MA style, I went to a karaoke bar by myself. And who was there? Yup, you guessed it. My cutie Jeb. At first I thought he might not remember me, but after about 20 minutes of sitting there acting like I was nothing but comfortable sitting alone in a bar I'd never been to before, he came over.

"Hey there! Weren't you at Holocene the other night?"

Yes, yes. That was me. What a sweetie he turned out to be! He sat with me the rest of the night and shot the shit. And then we exchanged phone numbers. Ka-CHING!!!!

So more on that later. For now I have to tell you how, as carefully as possible, I sent Alan packing. I have paraphrased for space purposes.

Him: Wanna go to a Blazer's game?

Me: No thanks. I have to work.

Him: This Blazer's game is awesome! Hope you're having a good night at work!

Me: Nothing.

Him: So what are your plans this week?

Me: Nothing.

Him: I'd really like to take you out sometime. Do you have any lunch plans on Friday?

Me: Nothing.

Him (via Facebook): So I hope I didn't come on too strong, but I really like you and I think we should date. I'd really like to take you out sometime... yadda yadda yadda.

Me (via Facebook): I will once again tell you as I told you last time we hung out that I just got out of a relationship with someone you know and I'm not interested in dating anyone right now. I hope you can understand. Can we be friends?

Him (via Facebook): I can understand. But I will be honest and say that I'm disappointed. I have far too many female friends for a straight guy in this city. Whine whine, cry cry, sniff sniff, foot stomp.

Me (via scream to the cosmos): Well, please sir. DON'T DO ME ANY FUCKING FAVORS!!!!!! I'm sure I'll manage without you. Jesus.

I don't want to talk to this guy anymore.

Side note. Come to find out after this is all over that the last time Alan was in a long term relationship, he wouldn't have sex. Dated a girl for over six months, and no sex. Major performance anxiety. Ack!

Whew. Dodged a bullet with that one.

So speaking of sex, when is this girl gonna get a proper lay?

Enough with the Hombres Already!!!!

And by "Hombre", I mean "Little, Emotionally Incompetent, Wussy Boys".

I feel that it's appropriate to devote this particular blog to celebrating the 6 month anniversary of my being single. It's been a wild ride so far.

First I'm gonna toot my own horn for a bit, then I'll get to the stupid boys.

It's hard for me to go back to those first few weeks after the break up. I was so unbelievably lost and scared. I literally couldn't handle the idea of being alone. I couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, could barely work. I had no idea who I was without the Ex. I couldn't comprehend that I would be able to find happiness in solitude. It just didn't seem possible to me. I mean, I couldn't even look at myself in the mirror. I was severely overweight, out of shape, insecure, and scared of my own shadow. How could I be alone to face someone that I didn't like anymore?

Can you believe that I was that girl half a year ago? It's kind of amazing that I've been able to accomplish such a transformation in such short time. I love myself now. I know that sounds kind of pompous, but it's true. I will always remember vividly the day I realized that. I was doing yoga with a good sweet friend of mine, and while we were laying in corpse pose, she said "Envision the parts of your body that are sore or tight, and send your breathe to each part. Say to yourself, 'I love you belly', or 'I love you ankle', or 'I love you arm'." I totally balked. Huh? What on earth is this girl talking about?!? I don't love my body, I hate it. It's fat and ugly. And then it kind of hit me like a brick over the head.

That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. How can I not love my body? It's my body. Without it I wouldn't exist. It does all sorts of wonderful things for me like moving me around, letting me scratch my itches, metabolizing all sorts of nasty gross things like saturated fats and alcohol, and letting me kiss, and hug, and make love. If anything, I should be disappointed with myself for being so mean to my body. Doesn't it deserve to be treated as well as I treat every one else around me?

So that was the beginning of my new relationship with good ole me. I've envisioned this person that I want to be, and I'm becoming her. I have my own apartment. Which means I live alone. ALONE. And I don't mind it, not one bit! I can spread out in my bed. I can leave the lights on. I can watch whatever dumb TV show I want. I can keep it clean or leave it dirty, whatever I feel like (although I'm finding more and more that I prefer it clean. Thought you might like to hear that, Kristen). I can play music as loud as I want. I can sing as loud as I want. I can come home after work and drink sleepy tea instead of alcohol to fall asleep. Sometimes it sucks, but sometimes it doesn't. And isn't that kind of how life works?

I'm continuing to practice yoga, and nothing has helped me heal more. I set my intention at the beginning of each class to focus on 5 words: "Peace, Clarity, Understanding, Acceptance, and Forgiveness". I'm able to twist and stretch my body more and more with every class, and I'm building strength in both my flesh and my soul.

I decided I want to be a biker. I want to ride my bike more often than I drive. I'm doing just that. I bought my first road bike today. It's a thing of beauty. I'm riding an 18 mile ride on Sunday. I have muscles developing in places I didn't know I had muscles. I've lost 30 pounds and 2 pant sizes. HOLY MOTHER!!!! I mean, really? I honestly had no idea I was capable of making myself happy, ladies. I've still got a long way to go, but I'm going there just the same. Kicking and screaming sometimes, of course.

So you will all hold me to it, I'm going to tell you what I want to accomplish next.

Drum roll please...

I want to make music. Some kind of music, and I don't really know or care which kind. Just as long as it's something better than karaoke. I know I can do this. It's a very foreign feeling to know I can do it. I can sing. I can play instruments. The only person holding me back from doing this is myself. And another thing I know for sure is that I can't wait around for some dumb boy to make music with. They are typically incredibly unreliable, and well, they just pretty much smell funny. In fact, that may be what I write about in my first song. It'll be titled Funny Smelling Boys, and it will not be nice...

Ha. Bet you can't wait to hear that one.

The other thing I want to accomplish this year is joining a Dragon Boat Racing Team. Totally random. But I really want to learn how to row. I just think it's really cool, and my arms will get completely ripped. Hell yeah!

So, at any rate, I'm putting these intentions formally out to the world, because that is usually how things come to be.

I hope you don't mind, ladies, that I took a break from talking about the stupid boys to share these things with you. I felt like you should hear them because every person reading this blog is an irreplaceable piece of the MA puzzle. It's a difficult burden to bear to like someone who doesn't like herself, so thank you. I get it now. I'm awesome.