Buckle up the ride will be long and bumpy folks, but totally worth it...I hope!For good reason, I’ve been missing in action. OK OK, not for good reason but at this point if you read my blog semi-regularly you know that work begins to consume most of my day and I have little time to write. In any man’s river, I’m going to catch you up on er-thang Faith since the anniversary of my born day.
Because the boy drama of my life is more exciting I’ll lead with work drama. Drum roll please, I gots me a new gig! No you didn’t read that wrong. No more galloping around the free and not so free world for me. I’ll be parked in an office, OK more like a dressed-up cubicle, in the largest building in downtown Philadelphia. Alls yeah friends, I’ll be working in risk management in the hopes of becoming one of the youngest regional risk managers for an entertainment powerhouse. That might include a change of residency to LA… flashy lights!
Hold the phone! Can you imagine me in LA? What What! Sun kissed tresses and an all year tan, who gone check me boo (in my Nene Leakes voice)? I know I went down a fantasy spiral for a minute but here’s another, moving west appeals to me more than finding
Lance Gross butt butterball nekkid ready to dance in my bedroom. That’s major!
Vulgarity aside, I’ve always dreamed of a bi-coastal life. Not to mention, Model Friend already lives in the Hills. When opportunity knocks, opening the door is all I can do. On a practical note, I get my old life back. Yup, that means making plans with friends and actually attending.
Sidenote, I’m slightly nervous about the new position you know the whole am I making the right decision thing. If I can conquer this professional hurdle the race is already won. Taking on an uncomfortable experience only helps you grow as a person, in my opinion. I know I’m ready…I hope!
In boy news, Jon B. exited stage left with a big ole bang! During work hours he pulled a Brett Favre forcing me to change the iPhone settings, no more preview text messages. I was in the middle of a team room pounding the pavement when a ginormous schlong (no exaggeration) showed up. Sidenote: The man’s HUNG! I’m not a prude, however some things are just inappropriate. You don’t see me sending the vajajay via text and I would expect that an adult man would know that his peen is not welcome phone art, especially during work hours. And to add more grease to the pan, my phone sat between me and Juvenile Junior Staff Member. I pray he didn’t see the man meat. If he did, he didn’t mention it to me but of course that’s not typical office conversation.
Juvenile Junior Staff Member probably thinks I’m a freak #shamehernameisfaith!
Later that night I spoke very directly to Jon B. I asked him point-blank, are you trying to be my fcuk-friend? There was a long pause. Lately I’ve done away with tact! Since he’s sending his dcik through text, tact ain’t his strong suit either. His response, he didn’t think I was that type of girl but if I’m down, he’s down. Otherwise he’s really interested in “catching up.”
Hmmmm….again, catching up is reserved for old friends, not sure we qualify! I closed the door but left the window open, besides this peen picture misstep Jon B. ain’t too shabby. We did chat a scosh after the awkwardness of the fcuk-friend wore off. Turns out JB’s back in school and starting a non-profit. Sidenote, ladies if you’re in the market for a Jon B look a-like I can hook you up with a number. Added bonus being the peen! In any man’s river we haven’t spoken in a couple of weeks so I guess he smelled what I was cooking. His number’s saved in my phone though in case I need to dust him off and put him back on stage.
Mailroom Boy’s sporadic texting is slightly annoying. He keeps trying to re-insert himself into my life-space as if we shared something magical. Of course I can’t blame him, I am fantabulous. Sorry, I detoured down vain Faith lane, excuse my obnoxiousness. But seriously I think being friends with MB is counterproductive. We do have fun when we’re together but his brand of tea suits me not.
I’m just going to come out and say it, me and the Spaniard are together again. Somewhere inside of me lives a masochist! That might have gone too far but you know what I’m saying. I pray the third time’s a charm. Before you run off thinking I caved because I’m weak, I’m not and the thought has already crossed my mind. We hashed our relationship almost to death over the past few weeks. It shows effort on his part because men hate talking about anything, right? I feel we’re in a good place…most days.
The Spaniard has, for lack of a better term, respect issues which manifest in a lack of communication skills. Before going apeshit he’s not physically or verbally abusive, that hashish doesn’t fly in Faith-zone. In my mind, it’s partially religi-cultural. He’s an Arab Muslim, not typically known for their respect of womenfolk. I’m not knocking his religion or his place of origin. However, I do understand breaking a horse requires patience. Not to mention lifetime lessons aren’t unlearned in a day. I can’t expect him to change who he is at his core but I do expect behavior modifications. I told him this directly. Remember not about tact these days!
Before you menfolk get all snippy with me and say you shouldn’t be with someone if you want to change him, hold the phone! Change may not be the appropriate word but it’s what I used, so lump it. And for hashishes and giggles I’ll give you a personal example. Old Faith was a snarky bish. I’m comfortable admitting that because she is Faith no more. Years of childhood iskabibbles coupled with an undeniable mountain of arrogance created a monster. It hit me one day that if I ever wanted to form lasting connections with people I’d have to change my ways. Not that I needed to change who I was at my core (I’m good peoples) however, my behavior needed a make-over. And now, I’m still sarcastic but I wouldn’t call myself a bish. I understand the importance of treating others with the same respect I expect in return. To get it you gotta give it, works the same way for love, Booyah!
Anywho, I told The Spaniard his leash is short. I’m not walking him and shoveling hashish this time around. Either he wants to be with me, in an adult relationship, or he doesn’t. If he does, act right! And the same rules apply for me.
Ruining a relationship ain’t a one man/woman job, so I’ll take my share of the blame. My issue, I’m a non-confrontational passive-aggressive bottler, look who read a psyche book this weekend! It’s not in my nature to tell someone he hurt my feelings, it seems so wimpy. I’d rather just let the uncomfortableness (not a word) of the moment pass and dictate the resolution.
Example, The Spaniard makes tentative plans with me but never solidifies. Day of said tentative plans I’m stuck in limbo, sometimes he shows and other times he does not. In his mind the plans aren’t concrete so there’s no reason to say boo to me if he doesn’t intend to go through with said plans. In my mind this is not only rude it’s all the way DIRESPECTFUL, caps oh so necessary! Instead of piping up and delivering major o_O (stank eye) coupled with sistah girl tude, I prefer to make other arrangements. Problem averted, partially. Back up plans solve my time issues but don’t cure the underlying disease, his total lack of respect for my time and his commitment to me. It also causes issues if he’s only running late for said tentative plans and he shows up to empty house, restaurant, park…you smell what I’m cooking. In those situations, which happen more often than you may think, I have to deal with his tude. Granted his tude and my tude are way different…I don’t like being ignored. He is the king of ig and it literally drives me to levels of anger I didn’t even know existed.
Seeing red can’t be healthy. Sheesh for a bottler my emotions run high, right? I need to chase my chill pill with a dash of Vodka!
End of the story, we’re both working on making it right. Did I add we’re both stubborn as hell and neither likes admitting wrong?
In any man’s river, The Spaniard asked me to move in with him…
Chello bloggers and blog-ettes I’m back with a little ditty I like to call the Week in Review.
When last we spoke I was battling Hurricane Spaniard. A surly storm that arrived on my shores a few months shy of two years ago. Sad as I am to say it burdens me still. As soon as I think I’ve out maneuvered the storm it loops the corner and hails all over my parade. In this case the Summer O’ Men…causing it to end just as abruptly as it started.
I agreed to have lunch with the Spaniard. After Wander made the waterworks the other week I felt I owed him and largely myself to put whatever we have to bed. Well much like fighting a pre-pubescent boy to shower and a toddler to sleep resolving our hashish wasn’t getting done over one lunch. We met at this quaint French spot that sells the most amazing crepes on 6th and Bainbridge. I can’t remember the name but it matters not.
Over a few savory and sweet crepes we discussed the relationship. A lot of our problems revolve around communication. In addition to him thinking I know exactly what’s going on in his head he has an issue with apologizing. Stubborn much! And granted I’m probably the most arrogant, unapologetically sarcastic person one will ever meet but for folks close to my heart I push those character flaws to the side, most of the time. I recounted the late for the train station incident where I got my ass chewed out by a banshee aka Spaz Manager. And still he didn’t offer an apology. Just coughed up an excuse, he confused the times. If assault weren’t against the law I would have hit him with my glass of water. He’s an asshole, sometimes! We parted ways that day with a hug and peck on the cheek.
Side note: When this man touches me I feel electricity run through my core…this cannot be a good thing.
Since we weren’t together I didn’t expect a gift for my birthday. Actually we’ve been conveniently unattached when my birthday rolls around. In any event I spent the early part of the day with Wander, Pudding Pop and Granny SJ. In the evening Wander took me shopping and I headed home relatively early, 10ish. Around 12 I get a text message from The Spaniard asking me to come downstairs. My first mind said to go downstairs and see what he wants but my second mind said total bad idea. Of course my first mind won this battle and I took the trip down the interior stairs of my apartment and was greeted by 5 or more bouquets of flowers, mostly lilies. Sometimes he’s not an asshole!
I was proud of myself that night because despite raging hormones amongst other things I kept my resolve and sent him on his way with nothing more than a Spank You kindly and a peck on the cheek….ok the lips but you get the point. I left most of the flowers on the doorstep. What was I going to do with 5 bouquets of flowers in my apartment?
After sharing the birthday flowers story with some of my close friends they were all somewhat surprised I didn’t give in. And The Best Friend, always a Spaniard supported was her usual self and told me I was dumb for not blurring the boundaries and taking a short ride on the ho train. Of course sex does not love make, so sometimes her advice is to be taken with a grain of salt.
But I digress.
Pretty Skin faded to the land of obscurity, also known as Never-Never land. By no fault of his own, well maybe a little, but with work and my see-saw appetite for The Spaniard I didn’t have the stomach to digest anymore of PS’ references to me as a man or his otherwise lack of genuine communication skills. I’m sorry I just can’t. Believe me there was no judgment here, I thought and still think some chiquitta will be hella happy to find and refine Pretty Skin. He’s a diamond in need of a little elbow grease.
PS did surface briefly this weekend. I quipped that I hadn’t been discarded to the do not call list. And his response was no but if you think it didn’t contain a man reference you’d be wrong. Ugh! Anywho I asked out of pure curiosity what he was up to this weekend. He responded that he had his daughter Saturday but would be free later in the evening. Clearly my conversation politeness was misconstrued. I told him that I had belated birthday plans with my cousin but I hope he enjoyed his weekend.
Was that rude of me?
Mailroom Boy to my utter surprise crawled from under his you got to be kidding me rock with a happy birthday salute. And believe it or not he was only about two days late despite having a phone reminder. His words not mine. Being late to everything but work is part of his je ne sais quoi…not. I was touched, don’t remember his birthday but that’s beside the point. Once I check out I check out, not that we had anything serious…please check the $14 incident that broke the camel’s back.
Since that time he’s been texting me on the regular. He even sideways mentioned that his daughter asked about me and she never asks about his friends. Hmm, I’m still not interested but am rather impressed that he’s getting his hashish together. Last we spoke Mailroom Boy was living in his aunt’s house, carless and working in the mailroom because it was easy. Now he’s taking classes to get his degree, driving his own car and living by himself. Not too shabby if I do say so myself.
Even Jon B. jumped back on stage for a small cameo in this show I call my life. I cancelled his performance before it could even start though. After the traditional how have you been what have you been up to chatter he asked if I ‘d like to come by on Sunday to “catch up.” Is that what the kool kids call it these days? Considering we’ve only known each other for roughly three months time and about a month of it we had no real communication I’m not sure we have any catching up to do. I mean in my book catching up is reserved for friends you’ve known for years but speak to infrequently because of schedules or proximity of course I could be wrong. Clearly his Kangol is too tight. I told him it was doubtful I’d be stopping by to “catch up.”
I’m seriously considering chucking up the deuces. I think Chris Breezy may have been onto something…all the bullshits for the birds…you judge it!
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.
Yeah so I summed it up in the title, there ain’t much happening captain. I did no traveling this week which actually was nice. I didn’t go into the office opting to work from the comforts of my jammies besides Tuesday. In actuality I decided to work from home more because Mailroom Boy worked my nerve on Tuesday and I just didn’t feel like having to be extremely rude to him. Sometimes I spare folks the roughness that can be my ‘tude, for this he should thank me.
Since I ain’t got much I should just spill how he worked that last nerve. Alright you all heard my little rant about missing the family bbq due to client work, well it spilled into this week and Diva no they didn’t save me a plate. (I am so un-hearted) Anywhosowhatsit, I’m furiously working on a client deliverable Tuesday morning, iPoding for focus really into a rhythm and didn’t need any frivolous interruptions. Even with Mailroom Boy’s looming appearance, the man is tall, I didn’t see him coming insert iPoding and client deliverable, I felt a presence. Damn it why the frig was he towering over my desk. I waved, flashed the 10 watt, continued to rock out to the dance grooves and put my head back into my work.
Did you catch my drift? I’m sure you did, I was busy…he didn’t because I still felt this mofo standing at my desk. WTF!!! Pause…deep breathe…no flipping allowed in the workplace! Pulled out the ear buds, flash a 5 watt and give the can I help you face, you know the one when the Jehovah’s knock on your door unexpected at 7 in the morning, yeah that face. He proceeds to go full on convo mode. Exsqueeze me? After not answering a question or two or three not out of rudeness but out of sheer I need to get this done-ness without any pointless interruptions he says something like, you’re not listening to me are you? Ding ding ding, you my friend deserve the gold star for intuitiveness….not! Moral to the story…work from home to avoid workplace interruptus.
Onto brighter pastures, or at least I thought. Since my actual birthday is coming ‘round the corner I decided to treat myself to an iPhone. Yeah I could wait another week and get one through work but with all those text message and application stipulations it just made more sense to get it myself. Alrighty then I played with the touch keyboard just to make sure I could get the whole swing of the no keys and to my surprise I got her done. Down side, you know my life there’s always a down side, AT&T and that whole 1 year policy for upgrades. Looks like I have to wait until next week anyway, story of my life really.
So TGIFriday...Happy Hour at the Mission Grill with the Best Friend, oh yeah she’s over that little grow up hooker comment. Not sure what the rest of the weekend will entail but single in the city is feeling all types of good right now.
If the powers that be are out there in the cyberspace listening to me rant, work sucks (I kid I kid, because momma needs her paycheck). But really work is getting to be the bane of my existence as of late (explains the week long hiatus from blogging). Not that I don’t appreciate some of the perks, frequent flyer miles and hotel points but what I don’t like, oh man what I don’t like is the complete and total interruption of my life for all things work inspired. All of Sunday and I do mean all (16 non sleep + some early Monday hours) were devoted to work!
Additionally I think Work is contributing to my all to frequent housemate Insomnia, but I could be wrong.
Yes yes I know I am a corporate ladder striver, but I am also a red blooded American chick who likes to kick off her work heels in exchange for a pair of get em girl pumps and hit the town. OK OK in Work’s defense I did have a hella good time Friday and Saturday night (thank you Vodka you always know how to make a night right) which could explain how Work kidnapped me Sunday and ruined my plan to attend the family bbq but alas, I need a rant and this here is gonna be one whether Work likes it or not.
Dramaticals…anywho I should have saved that business trip to LA for some other time considering that Model Friend came home for the Labor Day weekend (not like I really had a choice). As a result there was no tear-less, I miss you so much hug-fess (I am not a hugger by nature it really does take a lot out of me to conjure up a good one) because I’d just seen her the prior week. Of course Male Nurse Friend showed his entire a$$, this is really to be expected it’s just the kind of hand-job (excuse the vulgarities but he pissed me off this weekend) he is sometimes, and didn’t show for any of the welcome home Model Friend festivities. Of which were very few because well her trip home was about la familia, totally understandable. As the dorks we are we decided an early night bowling match and possibly a drink to say welcome home nice to see you have fun with the ‘rents yada yada yada.
Nurse Friend tagged along since well she and Model Friend get a long pretty well and I was on the outs again with the Best Friend for reasons unknown and well Nurse Friend is fun minus and we work well as wing women for each other, nuff said. Model Friend brought along her Equally Model Sister and for some reason bowling morphed into dinner when everyone realized we all skipped trying to make the 9:30ish deadline. Dinner was better because my stomach was rubbing my back by the time everyone arrived.
We ended the night at some in the courtyard type hide-out club in Northern Liberties (hipster up & coming neighborhood in Philadelphia) called PYT (Pretty young thangs, repeat after me I said Na Na Na, Na Na Na…I'll Take You There….oops digression). What I enjoyed most about this out the basement turned through the bathroom backdoor club was the DJ. Alllls yeah he played some pretty good blended music. When I say blended I mean a mix of the hip hop oldies but goodies and new school body rockers that had me and my friends on the dance floor shaking but not breaking what our momma’s gave us.
Side note both songs are equally dumb but a fun not gonna hurt no body dance song makes me smile regardless of my mood. I loves me some muzak therapy!
In any event that night Nurse Friend and I decided to meet up Saturday for service (I am not a Seven Day Adventist I am pray fo Jesus Baptist born and bred however my church offers multiple services so everyone can attend regardless the work schedule.) I personally prefer Saturday because it doesn’t involve the tomfoolery of gotta wear your best fo da lawd tomfoolery of Sunday. The message was on point and all was is well with my soul, which happened to be the hymn and one of my personal faves.
For whatever the reason we decided after service no doubt….did I mention the scruptilciousness of the security guard as we entered the house of the Lord (someone pray for me), to get some drinks. You know nothing like praying your demons away and chasing them down with Vodka. We ended up at Mixto some little Cubano/Colombiano spot in Center City where the waiter commented on the absolute perfection of my Spanish. Ah muchas gracias guapo que la práctica de vez en cuando or many thanks handsome I practice every once and a while. He wasn’t guapo but I can be a bit of a flirt or so I’m told. In any event we left there after some tasty drinks to a watering hole near UPENN’s campus called the Marbar. In deed Nurse Friend was correct. As the night wore on despite the alcohol the prospects grew shorter and uglier. Normally under the guidance of Vodka this wouldn’t be the case but ugly is definitely to the bone.
Sunday, as we know was monopolized by tons of work that I desperately needed to complete for the client by Tuesday. No thanks to my LA manager in answering my SOS e-mails begging for an extension given the IT problems I’d been plagued with for two weeks. My requests clearly fell on deaf ears. I finished the work thankfully by 5AM Monday morning but ended up missing the family bbq, grumpy tomato I think yes. The highlight or lowlight of Sunday whatever you wanna call it being accosted in the drive thru window of my local McStrokes by a cutie. This is not a good look friend…I am mangled looking like petrified WTF because I was trapped in my bat cave all damn day why in the good Lord’s name did this cute guy want my number, conclusion he must have issues. I did the double O fake out and told him to give me his instead.
Why do I take guys’ numbers that I have absolutely no intentions on calling?
When I woke Monday afternoon yes I said afternoon I loafed around the apartment doing absolutely nothing besides watching the Golden Girls marathon. It felt good for about three hours before I became restless and felt the hunger monkeys craving a greasy slice of Lorenzo’s pizza from this place on South Street. I dodged an invite from Mailroom Boy just didn’t feel like driving to his part of town plus he mentioned something about hanging with his daughter (not my preferred cup of tea) so I ended up on South Street picking up a slice. After waving hi and bye to Mr. Bengali, he still works selling clothing at a store on that strip, and taking the mental note damn he’s still hella sexy and without a doubt one of the smartest(which is sexier) men I’ve ever dated …but sadly plagued by circumstance (a little something called citizenship).
Seeing Mr. Bengali made me think of my lucky shirt and the reasons surrounding our break-up (age difference among other things). No sense in dwelling on the past, what shall be shall be but the man is hella smart and fantabulously gorgeous….hmmm rose quartz or libido…the juries out on that one!
This is gonna be a little lengthy folks, so buckle up and enjoy the ride. May I start with saying that it was all types of great to see Model Friend! She looked the same, had the same gross so unladylike behavior (Including but not limited to her telling me she thought her pits were a little skanky. Why 90% of the male population finds her attractive baffling, I kid.) and it was fantabulous. Albeit very short lived given my two day jaunt in the sunny California weather but a nice treat between business meetings. She took me to a hella sweet Thai place where I ordered some flat noodle seafood vegetable contraption that I can’t pronounce, shrimp tempura and tasted some of her yellow curry chicken. Did I mention scrumptilicious! The leftovers we sent to her future husband for final consumption, he appreciated this
Great eats and great company make for a great night even with the slight jet-lag. Insert I’ve been on a lot of planes in the past few days right, this is rhetorical.
We hashed about He Who Must Not Be Named, evidently I forgot to tell her all the dramaticals. I tire of telling the tale. Anywho I spilled and she listened and then of course gave me the sistah girl oh no he didn’t face when I told her he called from the foreign number to get me to answer. As a true friend she did ask if I’m alright and I told her I’m fine, which is true it’s water under the bridge now.
And shocking news to her, not you faithful readers, that I’ve sorta been seeing Mailroom Boy. She gave me the side-eye for not telling her sooner.
Model Friend: Have you sexed him?
Me: Hell no! Just can’t picture it in real life. (No need to go into the dream sequence but as many have pointed out what happens in your subconscious is not indicative of what you want or desire to happen in the flesh.)
Model Friend: That’s a strong no…why can’t you go there?
Me: I don’t know.
Model Friend: Well you better figure it out soon because you already set the date kiss expectation and you know what that leads to.
Me: Maybe I should test it out right…
Model Friend: Uh yeah…NO!
We both laugh and change the topic. A little later I share a little morsel, part of the reason I presume why I can’t go there with him. Now underneath my killer drive to scale the corporate ladder, there is a part of me that wants the picket fence and what comes along with that little girl fantasy. But and it’s a big but Mailroom Boy already has half of that fantasy.
Let me explain. There’s something to be said, in my humble opinion and maybe this makes me slightly old fashioned, about sharing firsts with your husband, in particular buying a joint home, having children or hell even trivial stuff like sky diving, whatever. I don’t know I could be wrong I’ve never been married. Granted I don’t want children but as I told Model Friend I am completely willing to sacrifice that major lack of a want for a husband. And in that case if I were to go against my own grain I want my greatest sacrifice to be his first child, point blank period. On that I can make no concession. And because of this I may be very single for a very long time to come. In Mailroom Boy’s case he already has a 7 year old daughter, cute kid, not mine.
Model Friend says that I over-think everything. She asked why I was putting this much thought into one a guy when he’s probably not putting that much thought into me outside of do I like her don’t I like. I didn’t have an answer that night besides I thought she was right. On my wonderific (that is sarcasm) flight back to Philadelphia, the late night red eye from LAX I had time to really think about our conversation.
Seriously a lot of time to think considering the woman screaming behind me in Cambodian at her unruly children kicking my seat for 5+ hours not to mention I couldn’t even get a blanket because they were sold out. The flight attendants said something to her multiple times and her oldest son, he was seated across the aisle sort of translated. My assumption is she didn’t speak English at all but you don’t have to understand or speak English to know that at 1AM in the morning your kids should be sleep and you shouldn’t be yelling. You know putting your finger to your lips and mouthing shhhhhssshhh is universal, at least I thought so. Either way I could still hear and feel the commotion with iPod so I had a lot of time to think, my favorite pastime. Please excuse the digression.
It really wasn’t thought I was putting into Mailroom Boy per se as much as it was thought about what I want out of my life (Quarter-Life Crisis Anyone). True life isn’t an equation and love isn’t the X, to solve for. But at the end of the day I can’t be anyone but me, a person more driven by logical analysis than overrun by emotion. Minus two of course, I put my faith and emotions in two men in this young life. One of the two failed miserably shaping the Faith I am today. The other, Future Husband will be forever the one who got away and maybe because of that I am destined to see-saw through men who never quite meet the bar. Our lives, Future Husband and I, were in two very different places at the time and I wasn’t ready to share his path, end of story (sort of there’s a lot more but this post is already past my normal length). Settling just doesn’t seem like the appropriate option.
Anywho, Model Friend said that I need to accept my sidity, she may be on to something. My absolute number one pet peeve is lacking motivation. From what I know of Mailroom Boy he seems completely OK with his situation which I can’t stomach. And for him maybe it’s not a situation. I on the other hand see it very much as one. I asked him about his job and he told me that he took his current position because it’s easy and he can get away with doing whatever he wants which is normally nothing. Although recently he said he thinks he needs a career since turning 33 it’s about time. Interesting, but as Granny SJ says the proof is in the pudding. He is very unaggressive about his future, I don’t like that. I want someone who’s future oriented while I do live in the now I also plan for tomorrow. Someone with a similar theme is necessary or I will be a grumpy tomato.
OK I’ve already shared the child thing and how I feel about it so there’s no need to harp on the issues I see here. Not to mention that I don’t appreciate how he downs his daughter’s mother. As I’ve explained to him before his daughter’s mother is a reflection of him, he chose her. She didn’t impregnate herself, I make no concessions here and will not stand for the bad mouthing because I don’t know the woman and his side of the situation is just that, his side of the story. I asked him if she trapped him, he said no; well zip your lips then.
And this is just me being very sidity I know but it is what it is, I don’t want to be responsible for driving “us” everywhere or housing “us” if it’s late and we need somewhere to stay. I am not a teenager and don’t believe in the keep it quiet while my mom is sleep rule. Granted I have a roommate but at any moment I can kick my brother out and live alone, he doesn’t have that option since he lives in his Aunt’s home. You can’t make rules when it’s not yours. And I presume this wouldn’t bother me so much if he could at least pick me up. I drive for work I don’t want to have to drive for play all the time.
This also got under my skin on the night we went to the diner but I didn’t let it show because I don’t wave my money in anyone’s face (not that I have money because I feel the crunch of the recession like everyone else). When we’ve actually gone out in the past I’ve always offered to go dutch because I don’t want him to think I’m some gold digger, not that it would really apply in this situation. He’s never taken me up on my offer. Anywho our diner bill was a measly 14 bucks, I repeat 14 bucks…his card was declined. No no no! I’m not upset about paying the bill, I am curious about his financial responsibility though.
OK you guys can tell me how unreasonable and flakey and whatever I am being but at the end of the day I feel women seek men who make them feel secure. I feel not one ounce of security with Mailroom Boy. On a positive note, he’s sweet as pie, an absolute gentleman, can talk to him for hours without tiring and he makes me laugh…there’s something to be said for all of those things!
PS. The Little Brother said, “Damn dude need to get his shit right yah mean!”
Oh and he doesn’t like dogs….WTF?????
P.S.S I didn’t have to go to upstate Jersey today, I am all types of happy because Insomnia is back in full effect. Kick rocks Insomnia for real.
This is the actual diner at night.
So I am getting back into the groove of things. There’s but so much vacation in my blood folks. Mid-way through the week I fully logged back into work. Shoot me I am work-a-holic….some days. It could also have a lot to do with the friggin horrible weather I came home to. Thanks again Mother Nature I owe you one.
During the vacation I received word that upon return I would be hopping a flight or two to LA. Now under normal circumstances this would have been quite arse nibbling but as we know one of my bestest friends in this wide world, Model Friend, moved to the left coast. This “busines trip” provided the perfecto opportunity to catch up. Even with the Facebooking and Twittering updates of it all it still feels different that she’s not here. Which reminds me, I so need to turn my FB status updates off because getting Model Friend’s messages at 3AM on a work night aren’t all that fun anymore. Not that we spent every waking minute together because we didn’t but it was nice to know if I needed a sounding board I didn’t have a 3hr time difference to calculate.
Nurse Friend says I’m not allowed to cry when I leave Model Friend to board the plane back home. Nursie-poo-poo forgets I’m as tough as nails and crying is for babies and men who win championships, of which I am neither.
Anyway before returning from South Beach Nurse Friend and I decided we were going to this Black ‘n’ White party at the Double Tree on Saturday night. With any party, doors open for new shoes or a new dress or both. In this instance I had some fresh never worn get him girl pumps lying in wait ready to pounce out the box so I decided that a new dress would suffice. A trip to Urban Outfitters proved useful as I was able to pick up a cutabulous little number on Thursday. Jumping slightly ahead for the sake of time we never made it to the party due in very large part to the tsunami like conditions afflicting Saturday night in the tri-state. Again, Mother Nature giving me her ass to kiss, she should consider this post flipping her off in blog form. We are no longer on speaking terms!
Anywho let’s backtrack a taste. On Friday night The Best Friend asked if we could meet up for yet another girl’s night in. Uh sorry NO! Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy a little men suck every once and again just like the next muchacha unfortunately my body was craving some male attention and my wallet was screaming empty. Shoot me, we’re in a recession!
Somehow or another I ended up, late night on my way to display my fantabulous amateur bowling skills to Mailroom Boy. Unfortunately by the time we made it to the lanes they weren’t setting up any more games instead we grabbed a drink at the bar. A drink that was wasted as I watched the bartender wet his hair and slick it back with his hands sans gloves. Yeah major germ-o-phobe moment as I imagined his nasty greasy wet follicles floating in my Vodka with a splash of pineapple. Heartbreaking and it was too late to complain to management.
Yes I’m that girl when it comes to personal hygiene type things.
It was too early to call it an evening so we went to a diner to grab a late night snack. I opted for a piece of butter cream cake, which was all types of scrumptilicious I don’t remember what Mailroom Boy had besides a cup of tea, he claims he was cold providing a passable excuse for resting half his lanky body under mine. He was just on the edge of uncomfortable close but I let it go. We talked for what seemed like hours and really were hours, did I ever mention that the boy can talk. By the time I got home it was 4:30AM.
Mailroom Boy sent a great night as always text and have a safe flight which I thought was very cutesy. He told me he would miss me….I hope this guy doesn’t like me too much as I don’t see this ending in a positive light. My feelings toward him are very torn.
I sense snobbish tendencies creeping back up my spine…
One thing I did learn from The Man Wander Married, you should never sh*t where you eat! His words not mine, not that he followed them but then again he also said don’t do what I do, do what I say. Words to live by….I give great advice but have a hella hard time following it.
Maybe a slight dating hiatus to clear my mind is in order…so much for the Rose Quartz.
Arriving back home from vacation is bittersweet. Miami bronzed my skin and relaxed my mood like no one else could. The beach was amazing and the rooftop pool at the Marriott gets two thumbs up! Mother Nature even stopped rearing her ugly head and provided some stupenderful weather days for the trip. For that I must give her a virtual high five.
Of course she did get me back by way of sunburn. Yep don’t re-read that last line I am all types of sun burnt along my back, the midgets not to mention my rudolf (aka nose) is looking a bit flakey as well. It wouldn’t be that bad if my skin didn’t feel like rawhide and look like I’d been whipped for stealing. It’s a small price to pay. Additionally my hair….baaaaabyyyyy! Chile my hair is all types of Celie from the Color Purple….ok that’s dramaticals but the silky silky is curly curly. I had to let the natural curl out the box…I think some people were shocked to see it. Hell I shocked myself but I couldn’t help it after a couple of dips in the pool and a sprint in the ocean I let go of a long time hang up. Don’t worry the silky silky will be back Friday.
If I never see another speedo it will be too soon. Kidding most of the gents walking the sand in nut munchers were in great shape a la Michael Phelps. Of course the steroid freaks whose arses swallow the tiny shorts don’t look all that great to me but to each his own really. And on a side note…much much prettier women than attractive men, no lesbo.
And a quick question to the lovely folks of South Beach, does everyone drive a fantabulous cars??? I mean seriously my friends and I were eating breakfast at Jerry’s Deli on 14th and Ocean and watched a lineup; Bently, Lambo and Rolls Royce. WTH, a little jealous…maybe!
Good drinks and late nights that’s how I would describe the trip. Of course Nurse Friend found out that at any random moment I break into song. She listened to my crazy rendition of Rihanna’s Please Don’t Stop the Music and La Cucaracha. Nurse Friend was only impressed with Rihanna, somehow La Cucaracha wasn’t a big hit. In addition she said I’m addicted to bathing. I believe I took at least three showers per day…whatever I like to be clean! Nurse Friend swears that no one showers before going to the pool, this is news to me. I called her dirty just joking of course.
Before we left I had to make sure to pick up a magnet for Granny SJ. It’s a sort of running tradition that every time I go to a new city I bring back a magnet for Granny SJ’s fridge. Anywho while shopping we ended up in this store called 9th Chakra. Now I am not into the mystical crystal thing because well I believe in Jesus. I don’t mean that to be demeaning or religiously superior, whatever makes your boat float, row but I give my problems to the Lord. But anyway while in the store I was drawn to this one stone, Rose Quartz. I was surprised to see this stone is associated with my astrological sign, Virgo.
Rose Quartz: Stone of Love and Relationships. Brings about nurturing and kindness, heals the heart and helps develop unconditional love. Soul mate finder.
This I find to be very interesting considering my home life recently. I smiled and purchased a pocket version of the stone. I don’t know why but I did it against my better judgment. What harm could it do really…which brings me back to the bitterness of returning home. I have to face the reality of my personal life which I escaped just briefly in Miami.
As I mentioned He Who Must Not Be Named called shortly before the vacation to tell me that he missed me, he was sorry he didn’t mention the whole wife situation and oh yeah his cousin died the day of the wedding (fell off the roof or some such nonsense…if he was getting married why the frig would he be on a roof?). Of all of these things the one I most believe, he misses me. I have no faith in him! I presume a full adult conversation putting all the cards on the table is due besides the whole don’t f*cking call me again!
Oh should I add that I ran into 21 Jump Street’s live in friend/girlfriend on the plane back to Philly. Story of my life I guess. Don’t worry we didn’t have a Housewives of Atlanta moment- she doesn’t even know who I am and not about to go there because there’s no reason for it. No use upsetting her monkey cart, his deceit will come to a head.
Small note I did kinda miss Mailroom Boy while I was away, thought about him a lot some good some not so good….what does that mean peoples?????
This is a picture of the El Toro
This weekend was way low key compared to the drama of last weekend.
After slapping the guilt on thick The Little Brother and Sister “convinced” me to go to Six Flags Great Adventures. I hadn’t been in years and honestly there was no thrill in me to go again. I know I probably sound like a humbug (if this were Christmas) but I just had no desire to walk the crowded park, pay ridonkulous amounts of money for subpar food and wait in endless lines for a 5 second thrill. Even with that feeling welled in the pit of my stomach I threw on my best amusement park outfit, donned a half hearted smile and drove the distance.
I would like to thank Google Maps for getting me lost in some podunk town on the outskirts of Trenton. Luckily the Whatevertown Police provided much needed assistance and renewed my dampening faith in police officers in general (that would be the bright side). Even with being a half hour or so out of the way, credit no doubt to janky directions, again many thanks Google Maps, we landed at the park just 15-30 minutes after opening with empty Coke cans in hand.
If you bring Coke cans during the week you get a bogo (buy one get one free) which is all types of wonderiffic because those friggin tickets cost $55 bucks a pop for adults and $25 for tots.
Once inside The Little Brother, Sister and Roller Coaster Partner (The Little Sister’s friend) bee-lined it to the flash-pass line to see how much additional it would cost to avoid the endless lines at the coasters. After thinking it over deciding $33 bucks a piece to avoid lines wasn’t the best deal we headed into the park. Completely unexpected, I had a ball. We rode every coaster the park employed besides the ones that had taken a siesta for the day. Absolute favorite and the only one that got a scream out of me, El Toro…I do have a thing for all things Spanish.
Roller Coaster Partner swears while riding The Bull I said something like shut the f*ck up but honestly that doesn’t sound like me. Although I can’t take full responsibility for the words that come out of my mouth during fits of sheer fear. Sorry but I can’t.
We left the park close to quitting time tired but happy. On Saturday morning I woke early to take The Little Brother to treatment and take the Little Sister for her driving test. Fortunately for what’s left of my blood pressure and my sanity she passed. I couldn’t watch, too anxious as if I were sweaty palmed behind the wheel as some random person decided my driving fate. Somewhere in the back of the Little Sister’s mind she probably thinks this means she will have unfettered access to my car, it does not.
Later in the day I had plans with Mailroom Boy at the State Park. Unfortunately my stylist (as to be expected really) was beyond booked. To make a long story way short I didn’t leave the shop until 6:30PM which wouldn’t have been that bad if I didn’t actually want to go and see what the State Park bbq was talking about (that’s slang for see if the party was good, carry on). Not to mention Mailroom Boy is going to start to think I’m a bit of a flake as I continue to make and break dates with him. He said not to worry about it. After leaving the salon I headed back to my mom’s house to pick up my sister and speed racer over to the nail salon. By the time I got home it was close to 9:30PM and I hadn’t actually done anything remotely fun but I was damn drained. As I toyed with the idea of going out that night I fell asleep and didn’t wake up until Sunday morning.
Even with a 30pt handicap we demolished the other team and remain number one. OK we won the last two games of a three game series and this included them bringing a ringer. I bowled pretty poorly in all honesty thank goodness for teamwork. My mind was in too many places to fully concentrate on bowling. Mailroom Boy invited me out later than night to “celebrate” both our bowling victories which I initially accepted forgetting about my True Blood obsession. I called later that evening and cancelled. Are you seeing a pattern?
In any event I had a seriously scandalicious dream about Mailroom Boy….what is my subconscious trying to tell me? Although True Blood is rather sexually explicit so I like to think my mind was simply combining the last thing I saw with the last man I spoke with that night….are you buying that?
As predicted work dwindled by Monday, which means my billable hours went down to next to nothing. Great wonderfuckingful that’s exactly what I didn’t need heading into a semi lengthy vacation. In any event I go over the details with my counselor/manager (she acts as though she doesn’t know but I know she does) who says that I need to work on expanding my internal network. Ugh ugh ugh, this wouldn’t be so bad if I actually liked the people I worked with or didn’t think they were full of shit.
Every time I meet a new consultant they are well, more of the same. Phony as a $2 bill and will try to sell you the shoes on your feet, all that the same time, its consultant multi-tasking at its absolute best. Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate having a job every morning I wake and can shower, slip into my pjs and work from the comfort of my bed. No complaints there….most days but I also didn’t saddle myself in college debt to play the who’s the most popular game instead of who’s the best suited for the job. Consulting is very much high school in pantsuits and snazzy skirt blouse ensembles, don’t worry I have the wardrobe down to a T.
In any event my year end review was more of the same, the fake consultant-ese that irks the piss out of me. My counselor sets up a meeting that was interrupted by multiple phone calls, asks if I read the review she sent the night before (because work is really a 24hr type of thing) and if I have any questions. About the form, no not really I comprehend English very well. What about the direction you want to take with the company? She doesn’t want my real answer. Everything is ice cream cones and popsicles, at least that’s what I told her…not in those words of course I did mention that I don’t see where I fit with this type of work really, you know me being on the flip side of liar and not really interested in selling folks concepts or programs or products they could do without. She overlooks that comment and focuses on the ice cream cones and popsicles. This was to be expected but I had to at least throw the bone. She didn’t fetch.
Sometime during the review I mutter (under my breath) kick rocks bioytch just so I felt like I expressed some of my true feelings. None the wiser, given the multiple phone calls answered and who knows how many e-mails, some even to me. Then she hit me with the due to the horrendeful year everyone’s had pretty much no one is getting a raise. Not unexpected in the least. And ended with this nugget, you’re doing an awesome job everyone sees that please look at the opportunities not as criticism but as real opportunities for you to become the best consultant you can be. Deconsultantify, keep doing what I’m doing so I can one day wake up a car salesman in a pricier suit…uh maybe not so much!
On a more interesting note and little less of the same, Mailroom Boy mentioned he should find a career. Hmmmm, I believe this epiphany is about 10-12yrs late but as they say better late than never. This is not me judging. I mean honestly I am in a “career” but still wake up with the feeling of what the frig should I do with my life hence this quarter-life crisis. And when I think about it, it’s easier to dip out of the mailroom than it is to dip out of insurance consulting. This is a crony network not only do I work with internal folks we serve tons of clients and an AWOL type of bail out smears your reputation. Reputation trumps all so the departure must reek of pc-ness. All sides must agree, and if I leave for an insurance company I have to sign a confidentiality statement.
Why not ask for my first born it might be less painful.
However my ears did perk up when Mailroom Boy said this. It demonstrates some potential but I won’t let my panties drop for a spark he needs to create a full blown flame. His statement falls into the I will believe it when I see it category…my trust levels are running on empty these days. In true friend fashion I told him anything that he puts his mind to I have faith (no pun intended) he can achieve. And that statement wasn’t laced with consultant bullshit either.
Anywho Mailroom Boy invited me to a nearby state park this weekend for a bbq…sounds like fun.
Again work pulled me off to some obscure location Friday morning. This time it required getting up at the butt crack of dawn. Luckily that is just my time so it wasn’t all that bad. Instead of my usual 5:45AM start I pushed it up a bit to 5AM on the dot. Truly no harm no foul considering I am an early bird, Granny SJ would be oh so proud.
Thinking about it I should give Granny SJ a call. I haven’t spoken to her in awhile….wonder if she’s still riding the Deacon…
Anywho I didn’t do a week in review post last week because well nothing material actually happened last week besides De-He Who Must Not Be Name-atized my room. It wasn’t that difficult…just some random artifact from Tunisia and removal of the ceremonious washcloth, towel and toothbrush.
Guess I should mention that while working by my lonesome at the client site in Jersey my mind wandered to He Who Must Not Be Named. I guess it was the isolation that made my mind race….not sure. It wasn’t a bad thought just a random WTF moment that passed as quickly as it came. Picked up the receiver but remembered he is away in Tunisia at his cousin’s wedding celebration, laughing no doubt. Considered leaving a narsty message but I left that thought right where it started and said, “Faith grow the f*ck up, this isn’t junior high anymore. Act like a frigging adult and stop wasting mind power thinking of vengeful plots and go back to work.” I actually said that out loud to myself…profanity and all, good thing I was alone…
Moving right along, after an unimpressive/impressive day in Northern Jersey the Powers that be released me early to scurry home and attempt to beat both the Jersey and PA traffic. Obviously the Powers and Mother Nature aren’t on speaking terms because mid way (or what would have been mid way through the ride home) I was stuck in an extra hr or so of traffic not to mention the mild tsunami outside my window. I did of course travel prepared and had umbrella ready, willing and able to do its part not to become the beginning of the end of my hair. We all know how obsessive I am about the follicles.
During the monsoon, Mailroom Boy sent a text asking if I was alright, given the treacherous weather and asked if I wanted to get together. Hmmmmmm At nearly the same moment (that’s really just dramatics but very close in proximity) The Best Friend sent an SOS text crying (if you could hear a cry in text form) that she needed a girls night in. You know where my loyalties lay. I cancelled plans with Mailroom Boy, abrupt I know but he understood.
Braving the element I stopped at the Wine & Spirits (those not punished to live in Philadelphia the Wine & Spirits store is the only place you can purchase alcohol) and picked up an old friend, Vodka. I was sure that The Best Friend had her sidekick Rum handy or possibly Tequila, not really a fan of either. Rum I just don’t like and well Tequila will have me taking my panties off faster than…well never mind me and Tequila aren’t girl night in appropriate.
Girls night in turned into Bitch-fest X or IX honestly I’ve lost count at this point. In general I am not a man-hater. Even though I grew up with the most despicable, deplorable representation of man possible in the Man Wander Married I still can’t bring myself to discount men totally. Maybe I am hopelessly romantic deep down or something. Anywho, the Best Friend opened up about Dapper Dan in a way I never seen coming. Alcohol confessions are the best. The long and short of it, without spreading her business in the streets because I heart her and this is my blog to revel the cutes and uglies of Faith not dish dirt about my friends, he stole something from her.
Not literally…emotionally. In the past I was quick to point out to The Best Friend and others that Dapper Dan should be given another shot at love. Unfortunately my friend felt otherwise and now I understand it is with good reason. Yes I already knew the jacked up, asshole dude things he’d done in the past but somewhere inside the core that is me I felt he truly loves her or else he was just a glutton for punishment. In any case and I am paraphrasing here she said that she gave herself to him in a way that was unlike any way she’d ever given or thought she was able to give to anyone (yes I know this has no back story and it won’t unless she cares to blog about it) and when he did the jerk immature things guys do he stole that part of her that she had given to him and she doesn’t think she will ever give that much again.
I wanted to cry for her but I am not big on tears. Well I did a little but she didn’t know. An empathy tear slid down my face that I buried in a pillow. After the confession I did mention that if she continues this way, he wins. I don’t want to see him win for the Best Friend’s sake. A little piece of my heart for Dapper Dan slipped away that night.
Saturday I cancelled on Mailroom Boy again. I know but I felt like the comfort of friends, people who’ve known me longer and get me without explanation. We caught a flick, The Orphan…good movie it was worth the ticket. We (The Best, Nurse Friend and I) ended up at our favorite diner breaking bread and telling jokes. It felt like old times…rarely are all three of us together, sort of our own Golden Girls minus 30 years. We hashed out some more relationship ish and I floated away to a memory of Future Husband and returned (all unnoticed by my friends) to the convo without spite…that’s a first.
Growing up…maybe…taking my own advice….possibly…When I can write the post about Future Husband I know all of “it” whatever it is will be gone….
Sunday we bowled to victory yet again. We are the team to beat, booyah! Since I’d cancelled nearly three weeks in a row with Mailroom Boy this weekend would make it four so instead I stuck to my word and took in a late night flick, The Collector, also a good movie and worth the ticket. I laughed in the face of my 5:45AM alarm and spent the entire movie (minus the time when I was watching and exchanging flirty banter) thinking about why I was there and if I could see any possible future with this man. I didn’t get any answers.
We spent an additional hour or so in my car having quiet conversation (man is he a talker). He told me that he liked my dress. We talked a little about our families…mostly surface stuff with morsels of depth. I mentioned my un-comfortableness with our work situation. He smiled and said that would explain some of my behavior and how long did I think it would take for me not be uncomfortable….no answer. He could see my wheels turning and he kissed away those thoughts but by the time I got home, close to 2AM, they were ripe on my mind again…
Side Note: The could be completely incidental and maybe the person realized he/she didn’t really like my writing style but I lost a follower after the whole Obama race post….guess I can’t please everyone.
Explain why men have such an issue with homosexuals? Wait let me rephrase why to do men have such an issue with homosexual men. (Men sign up in droves to see two women do the do but two men has them yelling obscenities and performing all kinds of out of character behavior.) Think about it the most devastating blow to a man’s ego, besides his woman making more money, call him a fagg*t. (Not that I condone the use of such terms)
If for some reason you do take the name calling route I would suggest some distance between you and the man you plan on emasculating, you know just a helpful hint.
Not that I am some rainbow toting picket line rioter for all things GLAAD (Gay & Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation) because I am not but at the same time I am also not threatened by homosexuality. I don’t think it will ruin the world since it hasn’t so far and I don’t know that anyone who is will burn in fiery pits of hell for all eternity any more than the rest of us heathens. I simply do not. I also don’t like when others try to push their warped interpretations of homosexuality on me and expect me to keep my mouth shut and accept what they spew as fact.
This is exactly what’s wrong with the world people don’t know their roles. If you’re a man you like woman and vice versa bottom line. Everyone who is like that should be singled out…..(I stopped listening at that point as I felt my blood boiling to higher levels of pissed-off-ness)
That would be Mailroom Boy speaking not me. He went into a mild questioning rant about what he was supposed to say to his daughter when she saw two men kissing. My rebuttal was simple; I don’t see a difference in the explanation from seeing a man and a woman kiss. His negative reaction to the situation will only reinforce in his impressionable daughter’s mind that there is in fact something wrong with people “like that,” for lack of a better words. This line of parenting creates little bigots and thus the cycle continues.
I asked him very simply, why it bothers him so much (Granted he is vain and expects that everyone wants him…please you’re not that cute that every gay man wants you because quite frankly you’re not. I mean it’s not like he’s Michael Ealy or Lance Gross) and his response was that it’s unnatural. And anything that’s unnatural shouldn’t happen. WTF? Unnatural you say…well so is having a tattoo, hair dye, in vitro fertilization and pretty much any medication combination to fight most major diseases. Clearly Mailroom Boy wants to take us back to the invention of the stone wheel. He told me I was taking it too far.
His closed mindedness is very unattractive.
But anywho this week was my first back following my staycation. Bottom line here things haven’t changed and I put in 12 hr days from Tuesday – Friday. Not to mention that I woke up early Saturday morning to two conference calls. WTF! When did I subscribe to this total invasion of my social and personal life? Friends don’t seem to get the hint that I’m busy until I ignore all calls and text messages. Believe me if I sense any attitude once I listen to the messages after I free up, don’t expect a return call, bottom line the attitude isn’t needed after a 12 hr work day period. This would include the Spaniard who sends things like I guess you’re busy or did you forget about me today. PISS OFF!
And still I remain very torn about my male relationships these days. Sam Keen said that love isn’t about finding the perfect person it’s about seeing an imperfect person perfectly. I guess I can’t help what I like. Nurse Friend and I were talking the other day and I told her that I feel as though I’ve dated the same man in a different body my entire life. In a quest to find someone who’s a polar opposite of the Man Wander Married I’ve gone haywire. I don’t know just something I’ve been thinking about between conference calls.
With half the summer nearly gone Mailroom Boy and The Spaniard are neck and neck…3 to 3 at the start of the 6th inning…maybe some relief pitchers might be in order.
Small Update: I never had to take the business trip to NYC so I was safe from making a final decision yet again.
Mother Nature laid her lovely hands on Philadelphia this weekend providing one of the best three days that I can remember this year. The charm coincided with the summer kick-off also known as the 4th of July. OK enough about the damn weather let’s jump into the happenings shall we....
Lip service should be the Spaniard’s middle name. Last weekend he ruffled his boxer briefs into a knot about how I always make plans without considering him or his feelings. To un-ruffle his undies I said basically come up with something to do and actually communicate that to me in something other than smoke screen or telepathy and we will do it. His something, a mini trip to the beach, great sounds awesome and it would give me a chance to use that new bathing suit burning a hole in my closet.
Mini Life Update: The Spaniard is now not going to Spain, he swears this has nothing to do with my refusal to fly the friendly skies…..and he now wants to accompany me on my all girls Miami vakay in August….let me think (Long Pause) HELL TO THE NO!!.
If you haven’t been following the story that is my life closely you probably assume I went to the beach….I didn’t. Considering my closeness to all things in my life I figured this out long before the weekend and conveniently scheduled an outing with Mailroom Boy. He scooped tickets to the Phillies games on Sunday, and we know I am all about all teams Philadelphia.
Not a shabby win with Utley sealing the deal in the 6th following J-Roll’s 1st inning homer. I nestled up to Mailroom Boy and we laughed at unknown onlookers caught on the jumbotron dancing off beat. We followed the win with dinner at a local sports bar to catch the highlights and cool off, during the 9th inning the sun decided to beam down directly on our seats so nicely tucked behind first base.
Mailroom Boy gets hella cool points for one listening when I talk to know I heart sports, two for scoring killer seats and three for being a perfect gentlemen when I asked him to adjust the spaghetti strap on my dress when it accidently popped loose (damn the midgets).
Date night ended with a short but scruptelicious kiss. It makes me feel dainty that I have to stand on my tip-toes to kiss him. This was a rare occasion sans uck me pumps considering the low key date. Under normal circumstances dainty isn’t my realm, I am tall. Not awkward woman tall you know like a six-footer but tall enough where most men are well within equal kissing territory when I wear shoes or even in flats.
Down side, because there is no sunshine without a little rain….my God is this man skinny as a rail. He has to weigh 150lbs soak and wet with a midget on his back, this is no exaggeration.
And now at the end of the summer kick-off which I will count as the first inning, Mailroom Boy hit a grand slam and brought 3 runners home while The Spaniard only has a runner on third with two outs, we shall see how the summer progresses.
So blog friends, because my job doesn’t believe in disconnected vacation, you know where you actually go on vacation and no one contacts you I might have to actually travel to NYC to meet with a client. Technically my vakay doesn’t stop end until Tuesday so I am thinking of making a weekend of it, you know hang out in the city and use my Marriott points to stay in-town…..question becomes who do I invite Mailroom Boy or the Spaniard?
Happy Independence Day or as I like to refer to it as the Happy Official Summer Kick-Off Day when everyone gets together and throws hot dogs and hamburgers on the barbie. Not to mention that my Uncle Anal always has a semi crab fest. In general I don’t like hard-shell crabs (due to the work involved with very little reward at the end) but it just seems like the right thing to eat on this holiday. Uncle Anal becomes slightly less anal during this time of year and actually allows us to use his outside deck for its true purpose, a place to congregate with family and friends….
So now that the formalities are over let me give you a brief weekend update, the beach totally didn’t happen, not surprising the Spaniard is all lip service. Tomorrow will be a day of fun as always with Mailroom Boy and I am looking forward to seeing the game, Phillies vs the Mets. Lingering thought I must plan a clever exit strategy for the morning if the Spaniard actually swings by tonight and unexpectedly expectedly falls asleep.
More highlights to come since the kick-off weekend is officially just starting…..
OK OK I know I was supposed to give an update after the infamous lunch and I will but let’s do the weekend update first.
This was the first weekend in the past four that I didn’t make plans with Mailroom Boy. Not because I didn’t want to hang out with him but because he already had something planned, the boys were taking an all jock strap trip to Great Adventures. He did make up for this by asking if I wanted to go to the Mets game next Sunday. This will interfere with the bowling league however exceptions can be made.
If the Gnome from work wasn’t home bound due to a rather narsty cyst in her spine she’d be happy to hear that I am getting to know Mailroom Boy very well. Did I mention I met his daughter, very cute as kids go....
Most Friday nights I hang with Nurse and The Best Friend but Nurse Friend was still in Orlando on vacation with family and I didn’t feel much like running the streets anyway. I settled in for a relaxing night of sleep. Did I forget to mention that I’ve been plagued by insomnia lately. Luckily the sleep gods had me in queue because I was able to get some much needed rest. I’ve been running on pure adrenaline lately with client work dominating most of my waking hours not to mention issues with the Spaniard. I will talk about this in a later post.
Oh wait I failed to mention this 21 Jump Street update, no don’t be alarmed he’s not back on the island. Scrolling down my Facebook home page I notice this gem, “....Last time I started to fall for somebody they hit me with some b.s. at the last min.... A message to myself..."KEEP IT PIMPING” Am I so vain I probably think this FB status is about me? Could be wrong thinking I matter that much. I would also like to arrogantly point out his total lack of proper grammar. Hello it should read, Last time I started to fall for somebody she hit me with some bullshit. Yes I know it’s trivial but I can be petty and this kind of took me by surprise. By now, considering his situation I would assume I was out of his system. Again this could be me just being vain.
On a side note, does anyone else notice the truly personal nuggets people reveal on FB in their status. True some folks just post funny little tweet like messages but a lot of people reveal their inner workings.
Anywho Saturday turned into the day from hell. Granted I was well rested after turning in early on Friday night I was saddled with herding The Little Brother to the ER. Yes my last experience with the HUP ER wasn’t good when Male Nurse Friend was sick but this time I anticipated a speedy room assignment given my brothers health conditions. No such luck folks. After being there nearly 6 hrs he still wasn’t roomed yet. Final diagnosis, possible blood infection and he remains hospitalized at this time.
One my way home from the hospital while driving on the windiest street in Philadelphia, Lincoln Drive, at close to 3AM in the morning, why in God’s good name were there two random podunk bikers pedaling away. Not to mention there is no might I repeat no bike path on the Drive let alone barely enough room for two cars to safely navigate these freaks were just pissing along like no one’s business. In addition when I honked my horn to signal they might want to get out of the damn way before becoming one with the gravel they just stop all deer caught in the headlights-esque.
WTF stupid arse stoners!!!
Once I got home I wasn’t able to get to sleep. No big surprise there, no sleep is becoming my best friend. I dicked around in the eerie silent apartment, it was very barren without my brother’s ridonkulous outbursts during the night. It was pretty much the same routine for Sunday. The Spaniard offered to come with while visiting the Little Brother in the hospital. Since we are not together but together I told him that it wasn’t appropriate for him to meet and greet my familia during such a time. True a copout but we aren’t together. I followed Sunday night up with yet another round of Faith vs. The No Sleep Bandit. Again I lost the opening round. I did however get to sleep around 4:30ish only to wake to a blaring alarm at 5:45AM.
I wonder how tonight will play out.
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?
