A Quarter Life Crisis

We called it a night around 2ish. I ignored the bouncer’s attempts to woo and walked back to the car unscathed by his advances with my girls. We’d decided to crash at The Best Friend’s house, alls yeah an impromptu sleepover.

Clearly we, me and The Best Friend that is, were not up for the challenge of the sleepover because as soon as I had hair in scarf my eyes closed. I was down for the count. And I do mean the count since I didn’t wake up until well after 12 in the afternoon. Now that’s not something I typically do, y’all know my battle with that biotch, Insomnia.

Anywho, Nurse Friend met the Best Friend and I at our favorite diner in North Wales. Since we’d canceled our trip to Ocean City due to inclement weather we needed to replace that with some equally fun thing for Saturday night. Ended on gambling in Chester. Not exactly the best replacement but we were working with limited options. And I really wasn’t in the market for hanging out in the city again. Don’t get me wrong there’s nothing wrong with the city, I mean I hearts the city in a major way but I’d played the city ticket all week and wanted to spice it up a bit.

Harrahs in Chester was just going to have to do. We parted ways for a few hours, so I could catch up on some e-mail from work and Nurse Friend needed to meet her family for her mom’s birthday celebration. By 9ish Nurse Friend was on her way to scoop me up so we could meet the Best Friend. My bestie was on point for driving since I’d played designated the night before.

Needless to say I didn’t win any money. Well let me not tell a lie. I won about $120 dollars but I ended up giving it all back to the casino. Nurse Friend did tell me to cash out once I was up but I just didn’t listen...hindsight is 20/20. Not counting the $120 that I gave back I only really lost about thirty bucks of my hard earned cash so I’m not gonna complain. Did you know they still have penny machines? It was a bunch of blue haired ladies with ciggies (cigarettes) and drinks pulling slots anxiously watching pennies (yes I said pennies) fluctuate.

Some troll at the bar kept making impromptu eye contact and I wasn’t feeling any of that. No cuties that night, but considering the growing roster that might not be a bad thing. My thought, summer o’ men should include a man for every day of the week. Is that being greedy?

Casino security harassed us for taking pictures, ugh what janky rules. I was actually told I needed to delete any photos, me thinks not! Oh did I forget to mention the drink The Best Friend spilled on me, and she wasn’t even drunk.

During our stint in the casino I could have sworn I saw Jon B saunter by with a less than attractive chic-let, competition. I like competition. Part of me wanted to swing by him so he’d see my hotness in comparison to the dud he had on his arm…jealousy maybe. Of course it might not have been him, or was it!

Once we’d gambled away our hard earned thirty bucks apiece we made our way to the car. I switched into some flip-flops for the ride home but not before we got our Ciara on in the parking lot dancing for no one but ourselves and laughing all the way. This is what I love about my friends always up for acting 12!

Overall the weekend was great! I hadn’t decided if I was ready to deal with Pretty Skin’s issue, if I would see Argyle Freak on Tuesday or when I’d catch up with Jon B. Of course there was Mr. Late Night in the background. Clearly this is going to be a productive summer!

Side note I had a very very interesting Sunday night text, cell phone and webcam conversation with Jon B. Spank him kindly for the oh so tasty pictures. Maybe he won’t stay in the friendzone. Only time will tell!

I was feeling slightly tipsy when I left the bar, way irresponsible I know. Since I hate waking up with alcohol on the tummy I decided to stop at the Wawa on Germantown Avenue in Mt. Airy to grab something quick to coat my stomach. Believe me the Wawa is a regular meat market after last call, not my intentions for going but eye candy is nice at any time of day or night.

There were a couple of cuties I saw giving me the eye when I was ordering my food but I didn’t pay it any mind. I quickly grabbed my slip from the counter and went to pay for my items. Mr. Late Nite was in front of me in the line. He turned around, nice shoulders, and said, “Damn you smell good. What is that you have on?” Never one to disappoint a fan I responded that I was wearing Chanel Chance. He said something like he was going to add it to his personal memory because it smelled amazing! Spank him kindly.

When I went to the counter to retrieve my sandwich Mr. Late Nite was still standing there. He started asking the usual questions one ask when he wants to secure another’s phone number. I began tabulating in my mind whether he could be added to the roster of summer potentials. My decision, yes for those shoulders alone he could gain admittance on the island.

Mr. Late Nite walked me to my car so we could exchange numbers. For whatever reason I’d left my cell in the car. Once at the car, I could see Jon B was calling. Probably checking to make sure I’d made it home, so sweet. Anywho I picked up the phone because I didn’t want Jon B to think I’d careened off the side of the road. Mr. Late Nite was quiet while I chit chatted and asked Jon if I could give him a buzz once I was settled and in the house.

After I hung up, Mr. Late Nite asked who I was talking to, to which I responded, some dude. I’m not into lies people and I don’t owe either one of these gents anything. Mr. Late Nite said he liked how smooth I handled the situation and respected me for not lying. Why lie? Either way we exchanged numbers and I made my way home. By the time I got settled it was around 2:30ish. I called Jon B back, promises must be kept, and we talked until about 4. By that time my eyelids were heavy and I had to get some sleep to prepare for ladies weekend.

Friday was packed with an ish load of errands. I woke up and cleaned the kitchen and bathroom while I waited for The Little Brother to come home with my car. I finished reorganizing my room, you know de-Spaniardizing. Once The Little Brother was home I made my way to the hair salon to get my do tossed. Side note my hair is on a growth spurt and I like it. I was slightly annoyed that my stylist was overbooked and I ended up waiting for several hours, the usual but for whatever reason I was irked.

After leaving the shop I headed down to the Urban Outfitters on 36th and Chestnut to see if I could pick up something cute for the night. Originally the Best and Nurse friend decided on Cuba Libre in Olde City but to be honest I wasn’t feeling salsa all night long, papichulos yes salsa no! In any event I was able to convince the girls that a nice low-key night out was far better. We agreed to go to Copacabana on 40th & Spruce. Side not I didn’t even wear the outfit I picked up out that night instead I opted for an oldie but goodie from my closet.

At first Copa was looking dead. I almost regretted my not so subtle suggestion of forgoing Cuba Libre. Once we got to the door we realized it was in deed in rare form inside, great! The doorman was giving me the eye but I wasn’t returning the favor. Sorry friend just not my type but he was nice and he carded us so my still looking under 21 card is still in effect, fantabulous!

The music was knocking; this is slang for good, carry on. The DJ spun a good mix of oldies and new school hip-hop and r&b. The vibe in Copa was nice. I ordered my signature and my friends ordered there’s. We were partying with our best friends, Vodka and Rum. Sometimes that’s all you need. Mid way through the evening Pretty Skin (PS) asked if he could join our trio.

My initial reaction was to blow him off because this was in fact girls night out but I had to remind myself, quickly, that it is also the summer of men. I didn’t want to be a cock blocker. Not to mention the man is easy on the eyes. He’s not what I would call a charmer but he did make me laugh a bit especially when Nurse Friend refused to shake his hand. He asked her if she was protecting herself from H1N1. Y’all know I have issues with shaking as well however I was fully prepared to anti-bacterial my hands once he left.

For whatever reason Nurse Friend was being a bit of a ball buster, not typically her lane. We reserve the busting of balls especially for The Best Friend. But I guess everyone has her night. At some point during the conversation that ice wall Nurse Friend was building came tumbling down. Could it have been the Vodka, one never knows. She was most definitely feeling a little nice because when PS asked her the best part of her former relationship she said the SEX. I almost spit out my drink for laughing so hard. No shocker to me being her friend and all but I was real horriprised sort of like seeing your grandparents knocking knees that she even said something like that to him.

Eventually PS asked if he could get my number. Before he revealed his little secret I was all ready to pony up, if he was in fact interested in me. There were three of us at the table all equally attractive; I can’t be that vain chick to think every guy wants me. In my mind they do but that is beside the point.

Anywho the man’s skin was glowing. I mean his skin was so smooth and so medium chocolate-esque I considered touching his face but I thought it might be rude. The Best Friend just came out and said something like you know your skin is gorgeous. She ain’t never told a lie! In any event I took his number to mull over if I can deal with his issue before he left us to return to his friend.

My highpoint of the night was when Nurse Friend stormed back to the table from the bathroom. As it turns out some sloppy whores where screwing some dude in the ladies room. Side note they could have been doing lines but me doubts it from the way they walked out, no eye contact after The Best Friend knocked on the door po-po style. Pretty Skin offered to watch the door while Nurse Friend used the men’s room. Now wasn’t that nice of him, trying to earn brownie points!

This will be the summer of men no doubt. If you speak these things into the universe sometimes the universe will give you what you want in return. Someone up there is smiling down on me….and I likes it!

So I had a double booking on Thursday night. An early test the waters with Argyle Freak and a late night chit chat with Jon B. I was looking forward to both for different reasons. To get up to speed read the prior post.

As luck or fate may have it, Argyle was way late getting back to me about what time we should meet up so I cancelled our plans in my mind. By 9PM it was entirely too late to squeeze him in before Jon B. Jon B and I were tentatively scheduled to meet for drinks at 11PM. Around 9:40ish Argyle sent a text message about just joining him at his house…hmm late night with Shemar Moore look-a-like probably not the best first date experience. Wander didn’t raise no hussies round these parts.

Immediately texted Argyle back and let him know I made other plans because he’d gotten back to me too late in the day. Clearly he was on his period because he threw a small tantrum. Men with women’s mood swings aren’t attractive however did I tell you how a-freaking-mazing Argyle’s body is…concessions can be made. After his b*tch-fit subsided we agreed to meet up Tuesday. Side note I am strongly considering kicking this one off the island though. I mean there is but so much concession in me and well, this is the summer of men. He is one amongst.

Jon B got stuck at work later than anticipated, I truly dislike waiting for people, and we didn’t end up meeting until 12:30. Did I forget to mention that Benson (my cat) destroyed the orange sweater I was going to wear? Part of me wanted to kick the cat but I decided against it.

Anywho we met at the Tavern on the Hill in Chestnut Hill. I ordered my usual, vodka and cranberry with a splash of pineapple. It is my signature drink. Jon B ordered Absolut on the rocks no chaser, a man’s drink. Granted I hadn’t had much food, when it’s hot outside I tend to eat less food it makes me hot or something, but my damn was that drink strong. After a few sips I was feeling a little too nice. I decided to nurse it for the rest of the evening as to not sound borderline retarded while holding conversation with the man.

We conversed about a number of things in particular legalizing drugs, great date convo I know. We debated the pros and cons and came to a general consensus that if alcohol is legal, also a drug, then why not open the lid on controlled substances. One of the early benefits of legalizing drugs would be a swift decline in the crime rates, mainly because trafficking won’t be considered a punishable offense. Two, there is already a market of highly intelligent salesmen and women to continue distribution. Three, and this is the one that should have wayward politicians skeeting in their seats, we could solve a lot of the social ills with the taxes collected from the sale and distribution of said controlled substances. I’m just saying, please don’t hate me for my politics. Consider this, you can never solve a supply and demand problem by attacking the supply.

Slightly before 2ish the barkeep yelled for last call. I was still nursing that extra strong drink and Jon B was yawning something vicious, not because of me but he’d worked a 13hr shift. We parted ways with a hug and his casual we should do this again soon. Hmm I’m feeling friendzone at this point, what do y’all think?

As I mentioned this summer is going to be the summer of men. OK maybe I didn’t mention the summer of men; maybe I told Nurse and Model Friend about the summer of men, whatevs consider this the formal notice!

In an effort to maximize my seven-day vacation I packed a ton of fun things into the week. As a result I’m now double booked! Double bookings are not uncommon in the world o’ singles. Considering I’m slightly rusty dare I say out of practice navigating out of the double booking is becoming quite tricky. Feelings could get hurt, not to mention ruin my free dinner invites in the recent future.

My dilemma is simple. I like Jon B. We’ve chatted it up all week since date numero uno. He’s…mature. Now I know that’s not typically something that people swoon over but I genuinely enjoy hearing his perspective on things. He’s really mellow and I like that. Oh did I mention the butter smooth voice, booyah! He wants to do late night din din with drinks tonight after he gets out of work….I wanna go blog friends.

On the flip side of the house is Argyle Freak. Now I wasn’t too sure about this one early on. Officially we haven’t had our first date due to some scheduling conflicts but he’s sezy. Now when I say sezy I mean if Halle Berry and Shemar Moore had a love child he would be it. His body, A-freaking-mazing! He looks great in round the way boy clothes and a suit, hence the Argyle part of his moniker. He definitely gets the blood pressure elevated but me-thinks he’s in it for the a$$. Not my style friend so I’m leery, but can’t deny very very curious.

Curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought her back right!

WWOFD aka What Would Old Faith Do, in my dating past I would schedule an early day date with Argyle Freak and late night dining with Jon B. My first reason for this, I trust myself more during the daytime in public places. Second, if Argyle Freak lives up to his name and I have to deliver a quick shot to his Johnny Rockets I’d want to end the night in buttery voice bliss with Jon B. This seems 100% practical to me.

So I’m jumping back into the dating game feet first. Feet rather than head because head implies over thinking things and I’ve already been there and done that.

The first summer prospect is Jon B. Jon B is all types of scrumptilicious for a number of reasons but the first is because when I see him I think of Jon B. Yes I had a thing for Jon B’s buttery voice back in the day. Maybe it was the way he sang those ballads all Babyface-like that made me melt. Maybe it was a his undeniable good looks, whatever it was I was way into Jon B back in the day. Not that my Jon B is the Jon B, although he used to be a hip-hop group some time ago.

Second Jon B also has the best phone voice this side of the Philly! When he called to let me know he’d be 15 minutes late for our Starbucks meet and greet I nearly crashed Juan The 2nd. Prior to this our convo had been completely e-mail, Yahoo messager, text chat Yuppers it’s a sezy phone voice…could come in handy on those travel away from home trips.

We had our official first date at the Starbucks in Chestnut Hill. As first dates go, on a scale from 1-10 I’d rate it a 6.5, outside of the Ex Future Husband I’ve never had a 10 first date. There was something all types of special about that boy. The convo flowed, Jon B didn’t seem in any way socially awkward and he’s a smart ass, which is right up my alley. I can see myself chillaxing with him again in the near future.

Since life rarely hands you a dozen roses without thorns there were a couple Debbie Downers. Now they weren’t earth shattering but time will tell if I can deal. The man, 34, lives with his father. Hmmm, I listened to the “reasons” and found them totally logical however it doesn’t change the fact that Jon B lives with his daddy and he’s a grown a$$ man.

Who am I to complain, The Little Brother cohabitates so this might be the pot calling the kettle.

I’m sensing the possibility of male patterned baldness. He was wearing a cute Kangol, not the grand pappy one but the fitted kind that all the hip-hop heads wear, side note it was way cute. Y’all know I loves me some hair to run my fingers through. I’ve never dated a bald guy before my system might go into shock. Yes this is way superficial but come on now I’m a work in progress OK.

Jon B is still paying some bills for his ex. Red flag, I think yes! As he tells it, he is the only father figure his ex’s daughter has and he doesn’t want her to go without even though he is not with her mother. Awl that sounds all helping elderly people across the street sheltering stray kittens-esque but in the my mind it also signifies deep unresolved emotional ties to his ex, whether Jon B’s willing to admit it or not.

At the end of the day I’m not looking for a relationship so these few items aren’t gonna stop me from going out with him again. Oh did I mention we dig on the same type of music. He’s way into olde skool hip hop and r&b. This is right up my alley. I sense a live music partner in the making. Of course it doesn’t hurt that he’s sort of a Baldwin (ha ha I was watching Clueless the other day and will be bringing this back to my linguisticals for hot guy).

It feels so damn good to be stateside and not only stateside but in my right time zone. To add insult to injury I returned home stuck in PST which didn’t help much considering all the frigging work that I still needed and need to do for the project. Work never stops!!!!!

Enough of the boring sh*t already let’s jump into some of the fun or almost fun or should have been fun but aren’t fun things that have happened to me since last we spoke. Side note downtown Vancouver absolutely fantabulous, if ever I went back that way I’d take a boo and stay at the Westin, not that tore down piece of dung the client had us in to save costs. Did I tell you how the first room had a bullet hole in the carpet? Considering the niceness of most Canadians it probably wasn’t a bullet hole, but there was large piece of carpet missing at the door of my room. While there I went to the Vancouver Art Gallery which inspired my inner artist…I plan to get back into sketching.

But I digress!

Returning to Philadelphia was a task that started out all types of well. I arrived early to the airport, without my ridonkulous manager, Texas, getting lost. For whatever reason he thinks he can read any map and know exactly where he’s going…most times he does not. I can’t count the amount of times we were “lost” right around the corner from where we were supposed to be. He insists he asks for directions when it’s necessary…yeah right don’t feed me those lies as I sat for hours circling a residential block just three blocks over from our hotel at 2 in the morning.

Anywho I get to the airport with about an hour and a half to spare. I dip into a couple stores to grab trinkets for my friends and familia that I’d forgotten during the trip and pop over to my gate. No worries, I board the plane and actually get about 4 good hours of work done without any interruption. It was a good flight, even had breakfast, a fruit and yogurt parfait…scrumptilicious!

Arrived at ORD aka Chicago O’Hare Airport a few minutes before schedule only to turn on my cell phone and find out my flight to Philly was cancelled due to inclement weather. WTF!!!!! This couldn’t be happening the day before the holiday, stuck in a foreign city with no turkey or stuffing or Wanders sweet potatoes! But of course it was happening.

Luckily somewhere over the rainbow…oh wait that’s the Wizard of Oz…anywho by some type of dumb luck or God taking pity on my poor soul, knowing I’d worked through all my clean pairs of panties on the trip, there appeared to be an opening on an earlier flight. Of course it was about two terminals away and I’d have to get my Flo Jo on to get there but desperate times call for desperate measures. As I rounded the corner I heard blaring over the intercom the last call for me to make the plane. Glory be to Jesus, I was on my way to Philly, booyah!!!!!

Even the thought of returning to the awkwardness of my situation with Mailroom Boy or the dying slowly “friendship” with The Spaniard wasn’t upsetting. I was just happy to be home home home. Under normal circumstances I don’t get homesick but for whatever reason I racked up a lot of Faith phone home minutes this trip. Maybe it was the extended weekend.

So let me catch you up about Mailroom Boy. I’ve been doing the slow fade. As slow fades go I thought I was doing a pretty decent job until I received a text from him on a late night tip a week or two before I left this last time asking if he could stop by to keep me company. Let me see are we planning on playing yatzee or something otherwise I don’t really see a point of you “stopping” by my place at 1 in the morning. Clearly the lines of “just friends” are blurred, to which I blame myself. I need to learn to keep my lips to myself. In my defense I haven’t kissed the man since the $14 incident and we’ve only been out once since then and it was a day time bust it up with ya homie type of deal, at least I thought so.

To add insult to injury the night before I left to go to Vancouver he sent me this cryptic message that said something like, Faith what’s really good with you? Sorry friend I don’t subscribe to all slang all the time and whatever he was trying to convey was definitely lost in translation. A part of me felt bad about this and to not look completely out of touch I just ignored the message. He followed up while I was in the airport. I told him that I didn’t answer because I was out and didn’t see the message until the wee hours of the morning. This was in part true. I was out late but I saw the message and was puzzled. In any event he texted that he meant to say more but he was drunk and can’t concentrate on two things at once….OK great!

Shortly before I boarded the plane he sent me another text message that said we need to get more fimiliar (note the incorrect spelling). And yes I know this makes me an ass but for whatever reason I couldn’t shake the spelling error. Don’t get me wrong I uck up some grammar and my spelling well it leaves something to the imagination but I try, when sending messages to folk, to spell simple things correctly or indicate my inability to spell the word by inserting (sp?). Now I could definitely be reading that fimiliar wrong but I took it to me something sexual….oh wait that’s NEVER gonna happen. Clearly he didn’t get the we’re just friends memo!

On to not much greener pastures, I’m at my wits end with The Spaniard! He’s pretty much worked every nerve I have left in my body. He totally doesn’t understand why sometimes I’m just really not in the mood to deal with his sh*t and why I’m not willing to be in a “relationship” with him. How many times can you have the same conversation?

Did I forget to mention that I’ve heard no hide nor hair of the impending divorce since his 2 month declaration approximately 2 months ago…but who’s counting.

Anywho he did take me to the airport for the final trip. We had a semi argument…I actually was being quite the female dog in heat but in my defense Mother Nature had my uterus doing somersaults. And honestly I don’t even feel bad about telling him he’s a liar and I will never trust a word that comes out of his mouth. I followed that gem with it didn’t make any sense why he even wanted to be back in a relationship we me because outside of extracurricular exercise we had absolutely NOTHING in common. He looked sad but such as life.

He made it a point to text me every morning and send little messages during the day which was nice…but I’m not impressed and didn’t respond to half of them. I guess he got my message or actually took that trip to visit his brother who happened to get in a narsty car accident because I haven’t talked to him in about a week.

I decided to delete The Spaniard’s number from my phone. The Best Friend said I should do him one last time before I sever the ties but my gut tells me that will blur the lines of this “friendship” even more.

On a related but different note, randomly Mr. Handcuffs, a cop I was sort of dating a while back got in touch with me over the holiday. I don’t anticipate anything jumping off with him but I am sort of curious why he still has my number considering it’s been at least 9 months since I last spoke to him. He told me that he moved closer to my apartment…interesting!

And side note remind me never to go shopping on Black Friday because I almost caught a case, that’s slang it means arrested. Somehow a 32in television for $250 isn’t worth getting a criminal record. Also Wal-Mart is an absolute piece of sh*t store and I will never spend another dime there. Don’t worry I’ll give more detail during my weekly rant, consider this a precursor.

Normally I don’t fall for sappy shit. (This will make sense later on I swear.) Helluva way to start a post I know but it is what it is. Anywho my staycation has been great. I finally beat that biotch Insomnia and am all that much happier for it. Not to mention I actually washed all of my laundry, and we know this is the whore I mean chore that broke the camels’ back for me so the sheer fact that I tackled it this week deserves a lot of credit.

OK on to the review…The Spaniard, I know I know there is a slight masochistic addiction here but the first step to resolving any problem is admitting that it exists. In any event his birthday was Wednesday. Now under normal circumstances I am a wonderiffic gift giver however, given our situation or lack thereof I scaled way back and simply picked up a nice shirt and a pair of pants, on sale so no serious duckets were lost.

Nothing major right, of course I didn’t feel anything by doing it, as it was something I would do for all of my other friends anyway. Clearly no one has good friends anymore because besides a few text messages and phone calls he didn’t get any gifts, not even his precious mother (did I say that out loud….I sense issues here). He was overjoyed. I stopped by briefly and went about my business, as I said I am trying to make a clean break…

Fast forward to Thursday morning, I get a call around 10AM. Being the early bird that I am even on staycation I was awake and answer to The Spaniard saying he’s at my front door. First reaction and words for that matter, WHY? He’s being spontaneous and wanted to surprise me. See he must have forgotten his position on this here island is no more. Clearly I’ve forgotten as well, I opened the door.

Cardio Girl, Diva and La’Tonya yes I hear a simultaneous dumbass resounding from ya’ll…..remember masochistic addition, it’s hard to break the ties.

In any event he was standing on my landing with forgive me I’ve been a jackass take me back flowers in hand. See here’s the sappy shit I was talking about earlier and I am so not the flower chick so we will call said flowers daisies. Pretty, but still slightly un-phased, what do you want? This is a rhetorical question because I knew what he wanted and quickly I needed to decide if I would play this game.

Sometimes playing dumb works in my favor, other times it backfires…only time will tell which happens. Anywho I let him in after his I’m sorry, I will do better, princessa por favor te amo, it hurts us not being together etc etc etc. I don’t feel played because I went into the letting of him in with open eyes. I suspect in a couple of days or weeks he will revert to his former self.

Insert mixed feelings here, what about Mailroom Boy? Oh he catches the short end of the stick so often doesn’t he? After a hooker get your act together conversation with Nurse Friend who said basically I needed to unweave the tangles and make a decision. The balancing act can only go on for so long and eventually it will come to a head and it ain’t gonna be pretty. I tend to agree with her.

But now I can’t shake the Spaniard. Of late he is omnipresent, my guess in large part to smelling another cock in the hen house or in my case another stranded hombre en la isla.




And this is totally off topic but it’s been bothering me, why why why bend over in slouching cargo pants sans undies if you have the ass of Sasquatch? This is a question I would like to pose to my local scooper at the dairy queen.

Some ish went down this weekend that will surely make this summer interesting. It started with a conversation (no yelling it’s not my way) with The Spaniard on Friday night that earned him a ticket off the island with no life preserver. Mailroom Boy’s stock soared to new heights independent of The Spaniard getting the boot and True Blood returned with a great season opener oh did I mention the bowling league stated, booyah!

On Friday evening...I called the Spaniard and immediately he started in with the whining about his mother. I get it honestly I do, he wants his mother here with him but I’m sick of it consuming our conversations all the time. After listening to him complain for upwards of a half an hour it morphed to how I should try to call him earlier in the day because his time after six is reserved specifically for speaking with his mom on skype. Small nugget I know but it touched the last nerve for me with him.

This was the beginning of the end. It’s been in the making for quite some time but I think I was trying to make the unworkable work. Basically I told him that he’s selfish. His overall attitude that somehow what’s going on in his life automatically trumps what’s going on in mine wasn’t rocking the boat any longer. So I gave him a spoonful of my mind. (Paraphrasing here) I told him that I get him wanting his mom here and how upsetting that is to him however insisting that I revise my work schedule to accommodate his hours long conversations with her daily was just plain rude. Not to mention it spit in the face of me making constant concessions in regards to my schedule (ya’ll know work takes up a lot of my time) to make sure I can see or at least talk to him. He didn’t seem to get it and really there is no reasoning when it comes to a man’s mother...

Clearly I was wrong, he mentioned that once or twice along with the fact that as of late I’ve been spending a lot of my free time out with “friends.” And he’s right I have been spending time with friends because when I make suggestions for things to do I hear about his mom and having to talk to her and how he couldn’t possibly miss a call yada yada yada. Instead of hearing more of his excuses I’ve been making plans sans The Spaniard. And honestly been having more fun without him. During his rant I just kept thinking to myself, this shouldn’t be this difficult and how could I possibly envision gallivanting cross continents with this man. Abruptly but completely expected his mother called before we resolved any of this and he began to hurry the conversation, to which I simply said not to bother, literally and figuratively.

Concluding truth, sex does not love make….and off the island he sailed never to be heard of again. I think he felt the same, having the same conversation weekly gets old.

Saturday made me smile. Or more appropriately Mailroom Boy made me smile. I know I know I keep going back and forth regarding how I feel about him. He invited me to the bbq mentioned last weekend during the concert. I debated going but had no other real plans so I agreed. Prepping myself before the “semi” date I said Faith do not give him a full body hug and under no circumstances find yourself alone where kissing might become an option. Clearly I don’t trust myself even when my words say of course I don’t like him obviously other parts weren’t keeping up their end of the bargain. With my marching orders in hand, I shuffled down to South Philly to meet him.

We drove to Delaware with his friends separated by his daughter in the backseat.. This was good being presented very early in the day with one of his cons made it highly unlikely to end up in any type of sticky situation. And I was one for one anyway I successfully avoided the full body hug and provided the we’re home slices side bump type of hug which implies I don’t want your penis.

His friends were all smiles when I arrived at the bbq, even the girlfriends. As you know women tend to cut the sideways eye so to convert them to Team Faith early on is a good sign. The bbq transitioned quite nicely into a semi fight party (Cotto vs Clottey) by nightfall. During the fight Mailroom Boy and I snuggled (I know so against the game day rules) under a blanket. In my defense it was very cold (even with those shots of tequila) everyone was hugged up in some corner or another. Initially he offered me his jacket which in turn made him cold so his friend’s wife offered (sneaky biyotch) a blanket we both could use. After hours of being all hugged up with me he asks whether he was making me uncomfortable…uh I don’t think that’s what I was feeling.

Concluding truth, I always have fun in his company. He makes me laugh and I feel 100% myself when I’m around him. Oh game day tally, I broke my rules the man has nice lips what can I say. Damn I’m weak!

Sunday was pretty uneventful. Bowling league folks screwed up the information and we didn’t get to bowl with the other leaguers, bright side for our trouble two free games. Next week lane 13 is ours for the taking. True Blood was well worth the wait. Season two opener served up all the vampy goodness I so desperately was waiting for.

Lingering question: Does this kiss change the relationship dynamic?

As it stands I am not a relationship aficionada. Reason being, honestly I’ve never seen a good example besides movies and since scripted reality taint real life what’s a quarter lifer like me to do. Because of that I walk through life eternally single and dating with reckless abandon for most people’s feelings. Some might call this selfish but it’s not actually. It’s the best thing I could do for most of the gents in my life because I’d crash and burn as a girlfriend. The label itself makes my skin crawl besides the fact I don’t deal well with being crappy at things.

Speaking with someone about my issues seems better and better these days.

I can’t help it. Much like other people my age who expect instant gratification for her every whim, when things begin to hit that monotonous dating lull, I jump ship to the next thing smoking. I suffer from a complex the DC Diva likes to call the GGOS (grass is greener on the other side).

But sometimes the grass is greener. I’m just saying sometimes the grass is greener. Or better, the lawn is manicured well hiding weeds deep under the surface, which I never actually see because getting into the weeds requires time and patience. Two things I possess very little of, not to mention giving of either creates vulnerability.

If a relationship lacks a certain level of vulnerability it’s shallow or superficial. OK I admit it I am a superficially shallow girlfriend. It’s good I’ve gotten this out in the open without a ridonkulous therapy bill attached. This doesn’t help The Spaniard in any way. Did I mention how I’ve contemplated breaking up with him every day since his departure to his home country? Not only that but with him away I felt this ginormous weight lifted from my shoulders. And I don’t miss him (bad I know).

God freedom never felt so good.

But here are the meat and potatoes behind this post, Mailroom Boy invited me, quite unexpectedly I might add, to the Chrisette Michelle concert at the House of Blues in AC. Without batting an eye I said of course I want to go. I know, now that I type it it seems oh so wrong. But here’s the thing if I could combine the Spaniard and Mailroom Boy they make the perfect Faith guy. Separately they each lack what the other possesses.

The Best Friend says I am using Mailroom Boy as a distraction because I refuse to fully commit myself to the relationship with the Spaniard.

Problem number two, outside of excusing myself from the company of The Spaniard for an entire weekend, how will I explain the whole two week trip to Spain to Mailroom Boy? Wait he doesn’t qualify for explanations! Oh how I hate drama and I feel that I’ve created this monster myself. Part of me wants to forget the Spain trip (The Spaniard’s cousin is getting married) altogether but that would entail breaking things with The Spaniard and I’m not sure Mailroom Boy is a great trade off.

Honestly I’m not even sure I like Mailroom Boy outside of friendship. I see him every day at work (no butterflies or 15yr old girl anticipation-type feelings) and well we just have decent conversations, but wouldn’t that put him in the just friend category? Besides the shallow part of me doesn’t see how the whole baby mama, no upward mobility job, lack of transportation living with your aunt part of Mailroom Boy really fits into my world. At the same token the total lack of spontaneity, not wanting to go out at night and obvious cultural difference of The Spaniard gets under my skin on a daily.

That fresh start for summer is looking so much better these days. Its times like this I wish 21 Jump Street were back on the island. Oh God did I just say that……

I've been hesitant to post this...it's the infamous post about The Spaniard. I promised so here it is people. El es un muy guapo hombre! Thank you I know a little espanol. Enough not to get lost in some janky Mexican city and end up bare ass on a jail floor....off topic a bit but you get my drift.

Soooooo, The Spaniard is more than a pretty face and well he really is The Spaniard by default since he was born in a little obscure country off the northeast coast of Africa called Tunisia. That would make him Tunisian by all accounts but I’m all about consistency around these parts and since I learned (or listened better) this after my first post about him and already named him The Spaniard, it is what it is.

Long story incredibly short he was born and lived a little in Tunisia but was raised most of his life in Spain. Digressing!

Anywho, I’m off the market. Not by choice either and it feels like a little part of me curled up and died to no longer say ....I’m single. Should this affect my facebook status? I fought the good fight though but in the end The Spaniard called my bluff during random conversation he was like you’re my girl right.

Way to blind spot me buddy we weren’t talking relationship. I didn’t react immediately which is never a good sign. I mean I like him more than the other gents I was (past tense) seeing but relationships/commitments aren’t my forte.

Peculiar spot that rock and a hard place with very little time to analyze an answer I just said of course. Of course, fate sealed. Ohhhhh I watched, writhing in pain might I add, my freedom sink to the bottom of the sea never to be seen by the light of day.

And really it's a shame, the summer is coming (I have a bit of a sweet tooth) and I’m gonna try with all my might to resist the delectable candy before me but there really are no guarantees. Wilde said it best, I can resist anything but temptation. If this were the winter I’d handle this a bit better but oh God the flesh is weak.

Nurse Friend posed the question how could I possibly consider traveling with this person across seas if I wasn’t gonna give it a true go? Easy, it’s called free excursion to Spain which is pretty much the travelgasm of all vacations to me. If I never mentioned it before I’ve always wanted to go to Spain. I missed out on an awesome opportunity during school due to fear (other students not me) for traveling shortly after 9-11.

All jokes aside though, she’s right (no one mention that to her). Especially since The Spaniard wants to intro me to all the relatives…but as I’ve mentioned before relatives heart me except that one granny and well I really can’t blame her for that one. To go under false pretenses would be incredibly insensitive on my part. I do like him folks, don’t get me wrong but I have my daddy’s blood cycling through my veins and commitment/relationships require a non wandering eye with a touch of emotional vulnerability that I’m not sure I possess.

What am I to do folks.....did I mention the summer is coming?

Normally I anxiously await the end of January because I’ll have received all my necessary documents to file my taxes. This tax season was of course the exception because 08 was a crazy financial year for me. I changed jobs and divested my 401k to pay off some staggering college debt. In hindsight probably not the best idea but it felt right at the time.

After turbo taxing my return and seeing I owned Uncle Sam close to 5k I decided to take The Best and Nurse Friend’s advice to seek the services of a professional. It’s pretty ass biting really to have the worst tax bracket single and one no house or child to take credit for and still owe the government. I dialed the Tax Lady and left a pleading message for her to work any particular tax voodoo to lessen the blow.

Tax Lady called back with all the specifications. After sorting some issues with her fax machine, I ended up e-mailing her the items; I left my monetary fate in her capable hands. I worked the rest of the day not comfortable but hopeful that a five thousand dollar cloud would evaporate or at least just create a summer shower as opposed to the thunderous hailstorm I drummed up earlier.

To my pocketbook’s relief Tax Lady transfigured 5k to 1.3k and indicated that there’s a lovely payment plan (I heart installments) that I can sign up for instead of liquidating my entire vacation fund. Hibernating in my apartment a vacation it doesn’t make, I insist on the inability to be contacted by work associates, friends (who aren’t vacationing with me) and family. Pure unfettered disconnection from everyone seems oh so blissful; I know I went off on a tangent but it’s such a delicious scene I must simmer here a little longer…OK moving right along.

Did I mention how I went all no contact this past weekend with everyone and received a hellarious (hellish and hilarious) tongue whipping from The Best Friend. She even got Wander’s panties in a knot.

Later in the day I received another call on my cell from the Tax Lady. First thought, she probably conjured something nice to completely eradicate owing the man altogether, no such luck. Here’s a snipet of the convo as I remember it.

Hey Faith it’s Tax Lady.

Heeeeeeeey (you know when people do nice things for me I generally respond pleasantly) what can I do for you?

This is probably gonna sound a little weird but are you single?

(Initial thought: WTF) Ummmmmmmmm

Oh no I’m not asking for myself see there’s this guy who's around your age I know and he's looking for a good woman and I don’t know there’s just something about you. Believe me I’ve done tons of people’s taxes and spoken to tons of women your age but I don’t know there’s just something about you.

Bbbbbbut you don’t even know me. I could be crazier than a bedbug not to mention ginormous and narsty. I mean I’m single but I do have friends (can’t forget the mucho caliente hombres).

I hope I didn’t offend you but you but you should think about it, he’s really nice.

(Nice is code for gremlin)

How tall is he? (Can’t even believe I am considering this, what the hell is wrong with me, she did score one for the taxes and is only charging me $100, maybe this is the second part of the payoff) I’m pretty tall 5’7ish” not to mention the get him girl heels.

Ha ha you are too funny. He’s probably a little under 6 foot but I will find out and give you a buzz back. These days it’s hard to find a good man you shouldn’t be so caught up in all of that. I remember being your age and being just like that. Now I would date, if I wasn’t married, a guy if he was two feet tall as long as he loved the Lord and had a good head on his shoulders.

Ha…..ha yeah I hear you (this is code for I’m getting uncomfortable with where this is going and want to end the conversation very quickly without being rude and still get the discount on my taxes) let me sleep on it and get back to you tomorrow.

Ok no problem maybe you can come to church with us or go skating with us.

Mmmkay talk to you later.

I guess the tender sounds of desperation work through the phone lines.

So I caved…..but it was calculated and intentional. 21 Jump Street (because he’s a p***y) texted me and said we needed to talk. My only assumption he’s so vain he probably thinks that Facebook message was about him, and it was so I guess he was right.

Anywho he texts and says he thinks we need to clear the air, get things out on the table and just discuss “us.” When did an “us” develop, I must have been watching commercials or something. My gut reaction was to let it slide, ignore the text message and move far far away from the past. But the idea of not confronting him bubbled in my stomach totally nauseating and I thought I’d probably earl if I didn’t say something (that was a ridonkulously gross analogy I’m just saying).

When he said let’s go to a relatively swanky restaurant on the main line I couldn’t very well pass up the opportunity to make his pocket’s bleed. I figured a five course meal is a great parting gift considering his lying ways. The Best Friend said that she was proud and overjoyed I never played naked twister with him but I know that was her perverted way of saying she’s glad he didn’t really get behind the walls and hurt me.

At least this is what I think she meant because sometimes she is just talking about sex, hey to know her is to love her, digressing!

He showed up exactly six and one half minutes later than his expected time which was a touch irritating because he’d already pushed back our pre-arranged meeting time due to “making a run.” Everyone knows I don’t operate on colored people time, it pisses me off. If he was picking me up this probably would have gone a lot worse since I hate waiting idly for someone dressed and ready but nowhere to go. Luckily Nurse Friend allowed me to talk her ear off while I waited and watched the valet drive people’s fantuboulsy expensive cars.

Avoiding the pick me up drop me off thing was a good call on my part besides that’s too date-like and then there would be some awkwardness at drop off, do we hug it out like old friends do I slam the door and just run up the stairs, far too many possibilities! Considering this was a drain his wallet and tell him about himself mission there was no reason to facade this up with dating actions. Besides if it turned narsty riding with him home wouldn’t be an option. Although he’s not the CB (Chris Brown) type or is he, obviously I don’t know him as well as I thought hence this whole “discuss us” rendezvous.

In any event we were seated rather quickly (it must be the recession being able to get a table on a Friday with no problems). At first conversation stalled. I didn’t really want to be there and I was under the table texting The Spaniard, so wrong but such as life!

Mid way through dinner it became obvious that 21 was never gonna address the “us” he referred to in the text nor the wool he attempted to pull over my eyes so again it appeared I had to lead the horse to water with a few prodding questions. The most important being how his grandmother was doing. He said that she’s ok and asks about me all the time. Moms and Grandmas totally heart me except one but that might have something to do with a certain living room table situation whatever! I proceeded to ask if he was staying in her house since moving her to the home to which he got a little defensive and said something like he told me this before that he’s living with a “friend.”

And by friend you mean girlfriend, right?

No not it’s not like that….I mean when we moved in together we were just cool you know homies but after a bit things started happening and we starting kinda seeing each other for a minute. But now you know we not together like that no more but I can’t just break my lease you know what I’m saying.

Yeah I hear what you’re saying doesn’t mean I have to agree, like or be a part of it. I don’t think it’s possible for two people of the opposite sex to live together unless one is gay or they are related. You’re whole “situation kinda proves my point as you say you were “homies” before co-habbing and some way slipped into a relationship.

But it’s a three bedroom house we have our own floors.

What does that mean exactly…there are common areas I’m sure, so how does it work when one of you has company? Just knowing you I’m sure you don’t like walking into your living room seeing a half naked men chilling watching sports center?

You have a point but my apartment is great, I can’t see moving out besides we still cool even though we not together, and believe me I would never ever go there again with her.

Yeah….ok, whatever.

And that’s where we left that, never really discussed the “us” because there is no us. The Little Brother said never burn bridges so I guess me and 21 are still semi friends but his attempted resurrection back into the possibly more than friends zone fell flat.

Jump Street did text me to see if we could hang out this weekend but the Spaniard filled his place…..oh oh oh muy caliente!!!

Earlier I decided that I was gonna post about Barbie (that bad ass tattoo having harlot). But then I said to myself, Faith (because I use my formal name when I talk to myself) pretty much every humoblogger will have something to say about that hussy so I figured I’d make good on my promise to post about 21 Jump Street leaving the island.

Disclaimer: This is gonna be a long one boys and girls settle in and enjoy!

It’s official! If I believed in sad song funerals we could play this but we all know I throw parties ( in my head celebrating the person’s life) when folks pass so chew on this oldie but goodie! After not snooping The Nurse Friend and I stumbled upon some interesting information about 21. Let me give you some back story first.

21 and I have known each other since my freshman year in college. A backstabbing bitch former friend introduced him as a guy she was at the time dating which is girl linguisticals for think of him as fugly because he is way off limits! An almost lawsuit later I learn that former friend (after graduating and running into 21) and 21 Jump Street never dated and he was in no way ever interested in her. Quite the contrary he kept coming around because his compadres took a liking to former friend’s chicas. Not to mention that former friend actually told 21 (when he asked about me) that I was dating Male Nurse Friend.

WTH, that cock blocking gremlin!

Anywho after that chance meeting, a few years back 21 and I started hanging out but our “status” was in constant flux. Were we friends, more than friends play cousins….you get my drift. I mean I even made this boy plates of food, what the hell was I drinking? OK I admit to the 15yr old girl crush but like I said when I met him he was off limits so I pushed it down and it kinda felt awkward letting it out.

Fast forward a little, The Best Friend said I should just hop on his face, she’s nasty like that but what she met was I should tell him how I felt. It’s funny with guys I truly like there’s a constant rejection fear that impairs my actions. Of course I let the moment pass and little by little we just stop speaking or more accurately fell off speaking regularly. We would send an occasional text, which I guess in retrospect was our (both 21 & I) way of reminding the other that there was something “else” there.

We never discussed this infamous else, ever!

Then Nurse Friend and I plan the New Years Eve soiree. No need to dwell on the details I was off my asscotch drunk. Needless to say 21 actually swung by with his rag tag group of friends. Designer Jeans took a liking to The Nurse Friend and I spilled my guts to 21 about years of crushing to which he reciprocated. Jackpot, cue this song.

After getting the monkey off my chest I was fine to let it lie. Truly I was, remember at the start of the year I started seeing Jersey Boy. It was short lived and rightfully so but at the time I was seeing someone else. Suddenly the text messages start flowing from 21, the bomb shell text that sealed the deal was his phantom, I miss you! I thought, Faith it could happen this time, the good Lord puts people in your life for a reason or a season.

At the same token I was cautious, and it didn’t hurt that I was on assignment for work in Chicago for several weeks so there was little that I could do anyway. I’m home by Valentine’s Day. Nothing special but we hung out along with Nurse Friend and Designer Jeans. It was nice, I smiled. But I told Nurse Friend that something was off, outside of the lbs he’d gained since I’d actually seen him last (can’t count the soiree as I was drunk and mildly in heat or so I am told).

She agreed there was something rotten in Philly. Again I wasn’t that phased because in between 21’s randomness I met the greatest most sexalicious Spaniard this world over on my way to the airport, remember I was on assignment in Chicago. And of course there was Mailroom Boy (did I mention he is winning so many cool points these days).

Let me set the stage here I am honest with everyone, no one is under the impression I am seeing him exclusively, alrighty back to 21’s Demise.

In the past week or so I started up a social networking page. With any social networking page you search out and seek those you know to add as friends. Well of course I am going to add 21 among others. Wonderful, the first thing I noticed which I thought was slightly odd, 21 doesn’t have his relationship status showing. Of course he doesn’t have his political or religious views showing either so this could be nothing, again female overanalyzationism taking over. I move on.

A few days later, I’m online and decide to rummage through friends' pictures. Believe me no intentions of snooping here folks, that’s not my way. In general I am pretty direct. I run across a picture on his page with the caption that makes a reference to 21 Jump Street being someone’s boyfriend. Picks up her imaginary detective hat and badge Letting my fingers be the guide I click away to this person’s page. There’s another picture which clearly references him as this girl’s boyfriend. Interesting!

Later that night I enlist The Nurse Friend. She loves this kind of stuff. After some clever page skimming she uncovers that not only is he boo-ed up he is in fact a live in boo. Cue the violins people the ship is sinking!

My lesson, even nice guys can lie. I thought we were at least better friends than this, and minus my drunken night he came after me.

Side note, what does one say to his girlfriend in order to leave their mutual dwelling to be with someone else on New Year’s Eve and Valentine’s Day…….

Oh the icing on this cake after posting my status on the social networking site stating even nice guys lie, 21 thinks we need to have a face to face conversation, dare I say about what LMAO!!!!!!!

Don’t get overly excited I didn’t say go horizontal (there was no freaky sneaky this weekend) I said go vertical which means scale ginormous ridonkulous sized walls while hanging from a bungee type rope thing. It was Nurse Friend’s birthday activity weekend and as a group we went in-door rock wall climbing. Nurse Friend invited some of her other friends (Just Friends Ex, Half of the Double Mint Twins and The Pittsburgh Popper) to join for the festivities. Of course The Best Friend came along for the fun and I also invited Mailroom Boy.

Since I am on the fence about Mailroom Boy, I decided that a group event was a better way to break the ice in terms of “dating.” I’m sure the Work Gnome will be happy to hear that we’re getting to know each other, see this post for insider secrets. I never noticed how skinny he was until he was strapped in a rock climbing harness and spider manning up a wall. That’s beside the point really. Did I forget to mention he showed up so late he only did one climb and nearly missed the entire group outing all together? Supposedly his grandfather summoned him early morning to fix a bookshelf or some such thing that extended way into mid afternoon. I mean the fun extravaganza started at 1:30, oh how I hate colored people time!

My untrusting nature doesn’t really believe this but he was very cute outside of his work clothes so I kinda let it go.

While scaling the walls (not really scaling for me as I hit my bad knee against the wall and didn’t make it to the top-I already feel like a loser no need to rub it in) I missed calls from 21 Jump Street and The Spaniard. 21 Jump Street I suspect was really on a feeler mission for Designer Jeans who happens to have a hard on for Nurse Friend. Unfortunately for Designer Jeans that both he and 21 Jump Street need a few lessons in dating intelligent girls, we are always thinking one step ahead so the lies and “game” will only get you but so far.

Side note we uncovered a small mystery late last night so 21 Jump Street is really off the island this time- I might post about it later.

The Spaniard, he was returning my call from early morning but didn’t leave a message. I later (yesterday) dealt with a pissy attitude about me never being available when he wants to talk, see me yada yada yada. In some circles this extreme like is cute but also a little off setting, The Nurse Friend said it could be the first sign of being possessive (us women-folk and our over-analyzationisms). I don’t know if I can take it that far although we girls do seem to favor object-esque treatment a la Rihanna (she’s signed up for another ape shit beat down)! I could be stumbling into the realm of my inner abused girlfriend.

All in all going vertical was quite fun minus the bruise on my left knee. I can totally see us going back/including this funness into our normal things to do. My all time absolute favorite moment of the outing was when Half of the Double Mint Twins made it to the top and the instructor told her to get into the seated position and let go of the wall. If you could have seen the snarly half bottle necking are you out of your mind look Half gave the belayer you’d probably be laughing right now (I am but that’s because I have a better frame of reference).

For this month we have another out of the norm activity planned for The Best Friend’s birthday. She’s sure to like it although it doesn’t involve her main food group, men!

Happy Valentine’s Day, well Happy Belated Valentine’s Day to all my readers. Hopefully the holiday brought you all the love your mind can understand and your heart can hold. For me, the holiday brought clarification and confirmation.

Let me run through the quick list of usual suspects. 21 Jumpstreet failed to respond to my general text message to everyone wishing him or her a Happy Cupids’ Day. The Spaniard was ever so attentive and since we had plans tentatively schedule the day after V-Day and things are new I didn’t feel I should burden him with the whole holiday superficial stuff. Mailroom Boy did respond with a short but sweet Happy Valentine’s Day, Faith. I considered this the olive branch since I demolition derby-ed his lunch date Friday.

Sometimes work trumps pleasure, Momma’s bills must get paid!

Officially I was Valentine-less. But even being without a Valentine wasn’t going to deter me or Nurse Friend from celebrating the superficial joy the season has to offer. The Best Friend was being a bit of a sour puss which I guess is to be expected given the recent break-up (I have stopped counting) with her baby daddy, I hate this term. She claims she doesn’t care but I was a little heartbroken to see them give up yet again. Odds are, based on my personal non professional assessment of their situation that in another year or so they will give it go again.

I went on a small tangent for a moment but if you’re a regular you’re probably used to my stream of consciousness style. Believe me a point is coming soon, I promise.

Nurse Friend and I decided to go single lady for V-Day bowling. Why, because we didn’t feel like staying indoors watching the sappy chick flicks playing on every station memorializing a holiday that we weren’t a part of. We invited a few of the regulars who all cancelled due to inclement weather (it flurried for 2 nanoseconds and everyone was acting like a blizzard hit town). I blame this entirely on depression over the idea of being single on Valentine’s Day.

I presume there’s a memo that reads if you’re single on V-Day you’re a loser. A memo obviously too many read and believed!

Eventually our bowling a deux was invaded by 21 Jumpstreet his friend, Designer Jeans and a tag along. They made sure to make it to the bowling alley after the stroke of 12 as to not confuse this “by chance linking up” with any resemblance of a V-Day date. Those two nonchalant artists are full of….anyway. Our two months of trash talking was not in vain as we mopped (won by 6 points) the floor with 21 Jumpstreet and Designer Jeans. The Tag-a-long well he was just that a tag-a-long.

Here comes the confirmation and clarification. The whole night I wished someone else was there…..what I clarified, 21 Jumpstreet is a good guy funny and even a bit of talker if you bring it out of him but the whole time I was wishing the friendly banter was shared with someone else. Friends I think his boat has sailed without ever docking. Regardless I think we will be homies (his word not mine) for life.

This could also be me being slightly shallow because 21 packed on a few lbs. I noticed this at the holiday party. I mean it’s nothing a little LA Fitness Membership and modified diet can’t fix but well his new appearance isn’t really my cup o’ tea.

We still had fun minus my trip down shallow Faith lane. Plus we beat the boys which is always fun especially listening to them pout and make up ridonkulous excuses for losing. What topped off my weekend though was spending Sunday with the Spaniard, ole!!!! It started with a pretty intense cardio workout (guess I need to dust my LA Fitness Membership off the shelf) and ended with a relaxing massage in the sauna.

Side note the sauna while doing wonders for my skin did a number and a half on my hair which had me at the Best Friend's house with a hot comb.

It goes without saying that I like this guy because no one ruins my hair without proper notice or payment for fixing. And there you have it folks I confirmed over a weekend dedicated to amore that one you don’t have to have a Valentine to celebrate the season (hell I psuedo celebrated with two boys) and two I do in fact have the hotties for the Spaniard. Of course my heart and mind change like the wind so let’s see what happens tomorrow!

Not sure what the deal is these days but I think every man I’ve come in contact with and a few I haven’t seen in person recently crawled out of the woodworks. My look hasn’t changed in any way. I figure I must be producing high pheromone levels that are exuded even through the phone.

OK maybe this needs some explanation. So for the last three weeks or so I’ve been working closely with a particular manager who has an eerie likeness to Steve Carrall. There’s nothing inherently wrong with said likeness but from time to time I want him to scream ahhhh Kelly Clarkson. In turn he obviously wants me to allow him to motorboat. If not he has a weird obsession with my breasts. Needless to say we haven’t completed this transaction.

Incidentally I am not at all bothered by men staring at my chest. By now I’m used to it and am working on that patent for areola discourse.

Mailroom Boy dropped not so subtle hints about the upcoming Ne-Yo concert and before my trip for 8 blessed weeks away from the office to Chicago (don’t get excited it’s for work not play) he shoved his telephone number down my throat. OK that sounds a touch violent but he might as well have since I was in one of those positions where I couldn’t say no lest totally ruin a decent work friend relationship. In any event I’m now quasi obligated to use said number for communication purposes. This rock and a hard place is not a fun place to be. Might I add he also mentioned something about Valentine’s Day.

I am not sure when we developed this type of relationship, might I remind him that I don’t dip the office ink.

To add to this madness, 21 Jumpstreet sent a phantom text message saying he misses me. WTF???? Where did that come from? Me floored. I immediately dialed Nurse and The Best Friend to over analyze this situation before responding. After about ten minutes of relatively non productive conversations with both I decided to simply respond, R u serious (texting is the best/worst form of communication)? To which he simply said of course.

Sometimes his non chalantism really gets under my skin. Mind you this is the same gent who when I was nearly throwing it at him Cole Hamels style he didn’t even bat an eye. Men!

We later have a brief conversation where he doesn’t care to address the implications of this text nor his odd I will always wait for you comment from weeks before. He simply states that he wanted to stay fresh in my mind because we’re supposed to be going bowling.

The up side to this weird out of nowhere extra male attention, the cabbie aka The Spaniard! With every rain storm there’s a rainbow. Ohh ohh ohh Buenos Dias to me!!!! Most times, and no offense to cab drivers the world over but cabbies are icky-such a technical term I know. But the Spaniard was oh la la (OK that was French). We had superb conversation. As I pocketed his telephone number OK more like stored it in my cell phone he said to definitely give him a call when I’m back in the city and no not just for a ride to and from the airport. Did I mention he’s in school for Criminal Justice at my Alma Mater? He won brownie points!

Before ya'll get all bent out of shape (oops naughty thought) I am not, repeat am not having an office affair. With the recent gnome attacking my completely flirtatious innocent convos with Mailroom Boy I would prefer that the office gossip about me be false.

Not that I'm one of those girls anyway. I tend to keep my life regimented. By regimented I mean the carrots don't mix with the peas. Work is on one shelf and play is on another. Rarely (and by rarely I mean never) do I blend the carrots and peas for a heart healthy meal if you get my drift.

Don't get me wrong I am not knocking the secretary playing under the desk dixie with her boss to get ahead. Whatever floats your boat, keep right on rowing. And I'm not deluded by the sanctity of marriage (I know Wander is somewhere cringing). If a man strays from the confining binds of his marriage maybe monogamy just ain't his twist (same goes for a woman I am an equal opportunity type chick).

My issue....affairs need to operate seamlessly. No long gazes in the direction of your accomplice in crime. Keep it completely business as usual. Problem being that once you've seen some one's family jewels it's kinda difficult to act as if you've never seen him butt butterball naked. Here's an example that's the same but different, take the last post about Mr. Pudgy-kins if I saw him walking down the streets of Philly I might burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter. In the least I would do the old lady whisper and leer.

But I digress. Let's keep the office clean, well as clean as it can possibly be. My mind wanders sometimes thinking if the CSI team parlayed into your everyday corporate or not so corporate office what those black lights would pick up. Could explain the reason why so many places have converted to those see through glass sliding doors. It's not just to be eco-friendly and stylish. It's to make sure every one's feet are firmly planted on the floor.

If I remember correctly, just about 40% of working women consummated an office affair (with numbers like that it almost makes you feel abnormal if you're not part of the skirt lifting no panty wearing to the office club). This could explain the lack of sex within the marriage, every one's getting serviced prior to reporting home. Kinda makes me not want to touch any of the copy machines, desks or quasi kitchen counter tops (you know because where else is the do getting done).

Personally I like avoiding confrontationally awkward situations. When you meet your office husband's wife at the Christmas party do you exchange knowing glances like yeah I had him too? I wonder, maybe I should ask.....

Recently the nosy gnome in my office brought up that her mail continues to get delivered late. Yes I know you need some back story. Here is goes, Mailroom Boy stops by my desk most days, sometimes twice a day. Normally he holds hour long15-20 minute conversations with me about random stuff.

Honestly he's a talker. I don't really know too many men who talk as much as he does but that's beside the point. He brightens an otherwise dull day, such a necessary distraction that I've grown quite accustomed to. Consider Friday sent me into fights of withdrawal when the whole day passed without a sighting. I've conditioned myself to see his lurch-like frame pushing his mail dispensary machine cart. It doesn't hurt that he isn't bad on the eyes. Whatever.

Granted while he's chatting me up he's also delaying mail deliveries. Not to mention he has no reason what so ever to chit-chat with me because I never have any packages. Either way he stops and we hold mostly pointless banter. A smile here a giggle there, some might misconstrue see this flirting and take it out of context. Enter gnome stage left.

First imagine a short, say 5'0" fifty year old woman with long blond hiding gray-black hair in a pony tail with a slight hunch back. Stop laughing, it's not funny! I think she has a hip condition which caused her current upper torso forward walking. Anyway on to the short but irritating as hell conversation. It's almost 4PM AKA close to quitting time. Out of the corner of my right eye I catch the hobbling troll. She approaches my desk with an imp like grin but I continue to listen to my IPOD thinking she is going to hop right by my cube. No such luck.

Gnome: Hey

Me: Hola

Gnome: Well that Mailroom Boy is such a nice guy, isn't he?

Me: Ummm, I guess he seems nice. At this point my antennae are up folks.

Gnome (leaning closer to me so no one else can hear): So.....do you knooooooow him?

Initial thought why doesn't she just ask what she want to know instead of beating this dead horse, it's too late in the day and she's too damn old to play these playground games, ugh!

Me: I'm not following your question, what do you mean by know him. Of course I know him, I was cut off mid statement.

Gnome (giggles a bit): Come on you know it's none of my business really but....do you knooooow him?

Me (the pleasant has left my face at this point): What are you talking about, of course I know him he walks by here every day!

Gnome: No no, well it's none of my business but he stops here and talks to you sooooooo long I just thought maybe you knew him outside of here you know kinda, oh but seriously he's talking to you so long I get my mail late most days, ha ha ha ha.

Me: Yeeeeaaah, no I don't have any dealings with him outside of work. He talks to everyone and if you have an issue with your mail delivery maybe you should speak to him about that. Well I have some things to finish up before I leave, is there something else?

Gnome: Oh...no that was it, I gotta get some work done before I go myself, see you tomorrow.

My ear buds were in before she even started to walk away.

Was I rude?

This mini invasive convo dug into my skin like an underwire breaking loose from an old bra. For the fellas out there think pubes caught in a zipper only you don't have the luxury of scratching your balls in public, cause you know I'm a lady. But I digress.

When she walked away I couldn't concentrate on work and I wanted to prance over to her desk and say what did you expect me to say, yeah from time to time I take Mailroom Boy into the stairwell and touch my ankles.

Oh I forgot, it's not really any of her business.

Yep this conversation was right up there on the list of things that grind my gears. Almost as annoying as when Wander calls me and asks if I'm awake. Hell yeah I'm awake, how else did I answer the phone.

I'm off the soapbox.




If by chance you thought this was a touch on the funny side, take a minute to rate my blog.

Today I woke up without the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Uneasy aka icky alcohol from the night before still inhibiting my stomach lining and lurking in wait for me to wake before rushing out my mouth. It's a small price to pay to the party gods. Nurse Friend is already talking about bigger and better for next year. I told her to give me at least until February to begin the planning of it all.

So the fallout. Should I act oblivious and fake intoxicated amnesia? I'm sure, completely sure The Godfather isn't going to let me forget passing bedroom eyes induced by Vodka at him all night. Cranberry Absolute definitely has a crush on him. A few weeks ago I could hide behind the non dating thing. Now I have to hurt feelings and just say, hey you know what I'm just not that into you.
It sounds bad and this is so the reason why people lie, it lessens the brunt force of total rejection.

Did I mention giving Nurse Friend's number out to 21 Jump Street's buddy? Funny how intoxication triggered some weird phone number total recall because since dragging her digits from the cellie it's been committed to memory for life. I recited it back to her without looking earlier today.

Despite spilling my guts like a floosie on Sunday I still managed to someway pull a number. OK not exactly a number, since I already have 21 Jump Street's number in my phone but now I'm not cowering behind the veil of friendship. He knows how I feel and have felt since college days. Are we still on for football on Sunday?

He also knows that a mutual acquaintance(there's a ginormous back story here that I can't get into) lied about me dating one of his friends (OMG everyone knows I don't do short men and said acquaintance had a major hard on for 21) and that I never dated Male Nurse Friend (I mean he's like my brother). But I digress.

So what does it mean when a man remembers the exact outfit you wore when you first met?

And long story short it feels oh so wonderful to reunite with my sober clear thinking mind. Problem, dealing with the consequences of one night of un-sober fun.

P.S. Nurse Friend has started bowling troubles.

Last night is a bit of a blur stemming from the intake of several alcoholic beverages which landed me in prayer to the porcelain gods of Mr. Flushy. Yes I know it's not a good look for a 27 (using my real age on the blog shows progression) year old woman. Normally I am uber responsible, so responsible that people who missed the event probably won't believe I actually tripped over my brother's feet as he lay sprawled across the king size bed at the Westin.

Side note I included a few pictures from the party in collage form. Before hand I designated myself the partography coordinator but I failed in that position by early evening due in large part to the Ciroc, or the 151 or the Grey Goose. Maybe it was just a combination of the three. Oh one must not leave out the Champange, complimentary from the hotel. The sippage started at check-in, who knew I'd be greeted with a little flute of the devil's juice?

Most of my closest friends were in attendance to see the lush I became in a matter of a few short hours. By 11ish I entered the land of total oblivion. Good thing Nurse Friend was on staff in case of true emergency.

For some reason besides being overly friendly, extra flirty and dropping F-bombs like running water, I also have a tendency to throw things. I guess that's better than being a loud sloppy want to fight everyone crying drunk? The Best Friend claims, OK she's telling the truth, that I threw a pack of AA batteries at her. Not sure why she's complaining, granted I threw a pack of AA batteries at her but it missed her face, no harm no foul. By close of night I'd thrown, a closed package of strudel(it didn't get on the walls or carpet), pretzels, chips, a few cups and of course the package of AA batteries. No lights were hurt during my pitching tests.

Some time during the night I lost my cell phone but like magic found it just in time to send miss spelled text messages to folks who didn't make the soiree. I blame Nurse and the Best Friend for not paying closer attention to my actions after the consumption of so much alcohol. I'm grateful that no dialing took place.

Even better than no drunk dialing, my intoxication was somewhat contained. Concerns from the evening:

• What did I say when hugged up with The Godfather
• Did I make plans to watch football this Sunday with 21 Jump street (there's a reminder in my cell)
• Was that guy really 20 (shakes and holds head down in shame)

Next year I will be the designated friend keeping tabs instead of the strudel chucking slightly fumbling drunkard.

P.S. I hope everyone else had as much fun as I did minus the dry heave.