A Popsicle and a Dream

Ahhhh, finally, nothing to report. I'm heading in for a popsicle and a dream. That's what I told Sanity as I signed off to bed last fine bitter cold evening. I went to hang with the gals last night for an evening of sharing kissing techniques and reading from old personal passages. The Karaoke Queen and Sanity, my therapy. Oooh, the bliss of good girl time and the sober and subdued act of crawling into bed and not caring if there were someone there with me. Being single certainly has it's perks. And last night, my cat was grateful that I was home. God love psycho kitty, the obsessively hygenic feline that takes after her mother (moi) in the gotta-be-clean department. She can warm my feet anytime. Is this pathetic? No, it's zen.

How TO Become a Player

Apparently, I suck at taking my own advice. What was that "the key to success is resistance" crap? So last night after having an incredible conversation with the Aussie and refusing to let myself fall in love with him (distance preventing), I pull the ultimate act of stupidity. I call Eddie. I'd been feeling pretty bummed about work earlier in the day and thought that he would understand and tell me all of the things that I needed to hear. All I intended was to find good conversation. And when he mentions coming over (to which I ALWAYS reply "no"), I said "yes"!!! It's been nearly 9 months since I let this man in my door and although I've talked to him, I've always managed to resist him. Apparently, I was in no mood to resist! But why didn't I call Aftershock whom I knew would send me over the edge? I've obviously lost all touch with reality here and decided that stupidity is a good replacement. And seriously, just after I'd had great conversation with the Aussie! Someone should write a song about me being a fool.

How NOT to Become a Player!

The key is resistance!! Saying no repeatedly and then spending the next week wondering why. That's the difference between The Romantic and The Player. Case in point . . . last night Aftershock calls and seriously puts up a valiant effort to either get me over to his place for, and I quote, "romancing me by the fire" or offering to come over to my place and tuck me in. Who wouldn't want this? What kind of defect am I that I'd turn this down? Knowing that I can take it or leave it, I can have him over and tell him to leave at my disposal, but alas, I decline. I proceed to change my mind at least 10 times out loud, letting him in to the mind of a woman (a serious and potentially detrimental faux pas for any hope of future encounters), but I still end up at no.

Why does she say no when she'd spent the past hour wondering when her prince was going to gallop up and grab her by the hair and sweep her away? There is no logical explanation other than sabotage. Oh, not to mention he shows little to no emotion and although he's romantic, the guy can't commit to anything other than physical affection. I know the age old adage of "beggars can't be choosers", but this chooser just chose. Blasted decisions. On the upside, the Karaoke Queen called this morning reporting a fantastic time with the Aquarian, so at least my love searches are not entirely in vain, someone is benefiting!! Perhaps I'm better off as a matchmaker?

Guilty Pleasures

Today was my day with Honey. A chick flick and some cuddling, good pizza and quailty television is enough of a fix. It's never enough with Honey. A quasi bi-sexual relationship is good for anyone. It was nothing over the edge, not even borderline. But enough to make me remember the good ol' days. Many would like to make it out to be more, something steamy. I'm sure people think our afternoons are full of satin sheets and strawberries, lipstick and leather, but they aren't really. We relish in the old maids that we've become and laugh at ourselves and my cat. We give each other a good back rub, perhaps a foot rub here and there, give a good hug or three and part ways. But I have this, and no one else does. No one else can fulfill this. Not for me, not for anyone else in this way. And thus . . . the guilty pleasure.

Skipping Stones

A night out on the town with Snow White tonight. Completely uncomplicated by men in any way. Untainted. Just some fun gal shopping, a little eatin' good in the neighborhood at the local Applebees for the triple chocolate meltdown, an item completely intended to ruin my latest diet fad.

And off to home where I had no calls, no messages, no proof of pursuit. That's it, I think the list has dwindled to little or nothing. It's cyclical. Time to let nature take it's course. Perhaps if I hadn't sabotaged Doctor and let him come see me tonight like he intended, I'd have had a larger chance. You see, the latest theory was to make the list larger so the chance of landing one good one would increase. Perhaps that's tempting fate and playing with the cards. Time to adopt another theory. Oh, and my other stroke of brilliance is to maintain that I'm not attempting to look good for anyone besides myself. For instance, if I shed the 20lbs and then he shows interest, it's superficial! If he's attracted to me now, then it's because of who I am, not what I need to look like, right? Well, at least it's a good attempt at self assurance. Bah.

Lost in Love in the Outback

He did it, the Aussie, he slipped. So, tonight we're having our normal conversation, thinking it will be brief and relatively interrupted, I'm pleasantly surprised with the length of our conversation and how much time we can spend actually getting to know each other. We go through the typical Q & A session that I seem to have perfected in my search for the master of my heart. He passes each question with ease and hands back some of my strange humor. He's fighting back tit for tat and I'm not coming up with anything that will stump this one. Then just as our conversation is ending, he, in his cunning and absolutely irresistable accent, slips. He tells me he loves me. And although I should be astonished, I'm not simply because I'd nearly said it myself a few times. The thing is, I can't possibly love him, I've not known him long enough for that and I've fought feeling anything for him for a million reasons including the 1/2 a world away factor. Damn him for trying to sneak into my heart and make things so complicated! I've been trying to shake this one for a while, irresistable bastard. I'll hold off longer.

So, instead of lingering in this cloud of what could be, I call Aftershock hoping for another ab workout and a little pseudo love, but as I'm talking to him, I am again reminded that I'd just be annoyed in some fashion and that I should just let it rest at my memory of earlier in the week. I might call him this weekend though.

Boring

The Romantic has nothing to compare to the action and fast pace of The Player's life, thus the difference in titles. What can I say? I went to the bookstore, again!!!!!????? Shit. I sat idly by the computer waiting for Hunter to pop on and he didn't so my butt got sore sitting there? How pathetic. Perhaps I'll realize something about me. Shitola. I'm boring, but I like some of the boring. What does that make me?

Sabotage

I talked to Doctor last night, exchanged numbers since he's starting his drive back to Iowa today. Still planning on having him come over Friday, although I have an out if I need it (going to see some close friends). I didn't talk to Chief. I'm a little nervous about Doctor being here this weekend. It's sad that I've already got plans to sabotage if I need to.

Frappuccino

So, last night on my way to the book store for some R&R, I called Chief. Unfortunately, I got that "I'm just not into you" vibe. He didn't sayanything indicating that, but seemed a little off. Perhaps it was my overreaction to being grouchy and tired myself and he's still sick, etc. But I just felt a little something. Don't worry, I didn't say anything. But thatwas disappointing. I went to the bookstore where I continued to be grouchy and couldn't even skim through books I was such a freak. Until in the middle of conversation, Sanity accidentally flipped some of her frappuccino onto my face through her straw when she was taking a swig. It was instant cool down and quite possibly the most hilarious thing I'd experienced in months. We laughed uncontrollably for a good 10-15 minutes and each time we'd slow down, we'd spit out and start again. It was out of control! So, after a trip to the bathroom to contain myself, I took a few breaths and called Honey (who was MIA for a bit) which made me feel totally better and all was good. I got home, talked to Doctor, Sanity andThe Karaoke Queen interrogated him through a three way conversation, he handled it valiantly and with good humor and said good night to boo when it was all done. I think I'll have him come see me this weekend, although I'm not sold. Chief asked me what I was doing this weekend and I told him I didn'tknow, kind of hoping he might ask me to come visit. We'll see.