The East Coast Boy

Though I was once born and raised in the Tri-State area, where cold winter storms may be said to forge a greater dependency and trust among others, I am now a student of the school of flakiness, shakiness, and damn complications that is San Francisco. I can’t say I like it, but when I once told someone I was a straight shooter they straight up laughed at me. “Whatever,” they said, “you’re so complicated.”

Which brings me to the tale of one of my few and far between dating experiences with east coast men. In this city finding one of these rare dudes is not necessarily a privilege, but it certainly is if he’s fresh off the plane. Benjamin was one such boy. He had only been in San Francisco for a year, but seemed to have done everything he possibly could not to understand it. Not only does he live in one of the most remote parts of the city, he spends all his time either with his friends from back home OR in seclusion in his far off dwelling spot. When I met him I felt like I was with a tourist rather than someone who had been living here for a year. I was excited. I wanted to take him under my wing.

I first met the east coast boy at the coffee shop I always write in. He works there and was playing a song I really liked. I ended up burning several of the CDs he played on my computer and promising I’d make him a mix. Since I had a boyfriend at the time – one who frequently sat next to me and rubbed my thigh at said coffee shop – it was kind hard to act on anything. Despite this I felt a real connection to Benjamin through our common music tastes. I would put some of the songs he burned me on repeat, feeling that they came very close to expressing many of my hidden urges (aka freedom to fuck whoever I pleased and not be in a relationship).

When things went incredibly awful with my ex, I dumped him and immediately went on to pursue Benjamin. Back then I called him, “The Coffee Shop Boy”. I went to his work, hoping he’d be there, and eventually he showed up. Of course I was ‘working’ (well I really was!) and went up to talk to him several times. What looked like plans for Halloween turned into plans to get a drink that very evening.

He texted me at 11:30. He was at the bar down the street and I thought his friend would be with him. He was alone. I can’t even begin to describe what happened except to say that whatever I did I nailed it that first night. The two of us got very confessional, talking about family histories, childhood, and our own idea of what is good and wrong (I don’t remember the details on the latter except that I probably changed mine a bit ). He seemed extremely reliable, and a steady sort of guy, understanding as he was. I am a bit of a firecracker, so I was glad that he seemed to accept me, then again…I also couldn’t tell him that my ‘friend down the street’ was sending me texts that said “fuck me now” throughout our date, but who wants anyone looking at her text messages anyway?

After that we had quite the romantic escapade complete with holding hands, kissing on the street, and nights staying up till six am not fucking but talking. I liked him because he seemed straightforward and unlike most men in San Francisco I felt I could trust him to be honest not only with me but with himself. Despite the fact that he seemed to have had a rather scattered life he had a lot of confidence and I never got the impression of self-doubt. I’m a hyper motivated, did this did that person, but I’m oozing with neuroses and self doubt. I can’t help but wish I was more like him, though I do think that much of what is wrong with me is also what pushes me forward.

After three hot and heavy dates we did the deed. It was not memorable and there was something ominous about it, about how we both immediately said “the first time is always awkward” after it happened. Then we didn’t talk much. We were supposed to hang out on Election night, the 4th, and he got sick. It was stupid. There I was witnessing the very thing I’d wanted all along – a win for Barack Obama – and I was worried about a boy not liking me. I wasn’t sure if he was really sick.

Later that week he told me he had a fever, and was doing a lot of practicing for a show he had Saturday. Still, when I saw him at the show I still felt like there was something wrong.  When I asked him if he missed me, he said “Yes, I was wondering if you thought I was being distant. When can I see you next?” While what he said seemed sincere I found something troubling about his facial expression. It was flat. I felt insecure, and funny enough, some strange yet extremely foxy guy ended up following my friends and I to a party later that night telling me I was hot. He turned out to be weird.

Given what Benjamin said at his show I thought things were ok, that I was thinking only of the worst. As it turned out, though, things were as I had thought. Though he was sick all week, when we met up this Friday at 5:30 he told me we’d ‘taken things too fast’ and that he doesn’t want a girlfriend.

When I met him for a drink that night I hadn’t known that he’d deal me out such sad news. I had finally found out that he really was sick, and that had only further convinced me that I was wrong in doubting his feelings for me. This is not to say that I got all excited again, but I did feel more at ease when I came into the bar to meet him.

What came about that night was very un-San Francisco if there was such a thing. He told me that he doesn’t date women, but is only in serious relationships. He likes to be alone. Given his lack of knowledge of people and places in San Francisco, and what he had told me about himself I didn’t have trouble believing this. What was funny to me was that he had called me over to tell me all this in person. Being here, you get used to people simply ignoring you or blowing you off in some way. Even I don’t tell people “I’m just not that into you” in person. Unlike me he also feels it’s dishonest to date other people when you still love someone else, in his case his ex from five years. I wonder what my life would have been like had I not dated since my ex…..hmm.

I was shocked. I didn’t even feel rejected. I didn’t know how to feel. I kept playing with the ice in my drink. The two of exchanged laughs over the situation we were in. There was no animosity, and much of me actually feels that the fact that he approached me about this is hope for the honesty of men – beings I have come to believe are putrid liars.

Now I guess I have more faith. Now I get to be alone again, and this time there aren’t any loose ends. Thank you Ben, Mr. East Coast Boy, for having the courage to break things off with me and save me from days of stupid ‘I wonder if he likes me’ woes. And, most of all, props to you for giving me the talk after only 3 dates. Now that’s something to get on a plane for!

And I’m Back For More or Maybe Not?

I don’t know why I decide to write during my dry spells but I suppose it’s a trend now. After a whirlwind of disastrous dating, here I am back in front of my computer contemplating my future experiences romancing loneliness and wondering whether or not I can truly avoid assholes for the rest of my life. HERE GOES!

When we last spoke I was running out of material. Sure I could have taken a trip down memory lane, but my life was already so jam packed in the nostalgic aura of the past that I tried to defy it somehow by coming up with new material – this is not as easy as you think when you are twenty pounds fatter, hate your job, and are generally bursting with LOW SELF ESTEEM.

But now is the coming of a new era. I am a skinny little bitch who has to slap them off for the sake of my future career and my chances of getting into grad school.

This doesn’t mean I haven’t been through some hurdles. Excessive dating, and an intense relationship with a sociopath have characterized the last four months of my love life. Most recently I decided it was best to give up my beliefs that I should date a ‘man of my worth’ and go after someone who I actually liked only to get ignored by him because of some illness I have yet to believe is real.

After awhile I have decided that I should just give up. My friends keep telling me it’s time for me to be alone. The thing is I haven’t actually been with someone I liked since April 2007. Ever since then people have been telling me I need to be alone. Hasn’t it been long enough?

Apparently not.

Now more than ever, I have to focus on myself. I need to stop dating dicks, and I need to focus on those awesome grad school applications I have due on December 1st. YAY.

Until then, I got A LOT of stories to tell.

There are men who don’t like fucking

apparently they exist I did not know this but they do.

I imagine that the guy I currently have a crush on, a bar tender who ever one has a crush on, won’t fuck me either. I hear he is protestant in his sexual values.

My best friend Betty broke up with her boyfriend because he wasn’t fucking her, and before that he was going soft. My friend Jane’s boyfriend just wants to talk, rarely does he want to get down and dirty (oh wait it’s not dirty, it’s oh so natural).

This mystifies me.

These are the smart guys, both guys have great jobs and are well read BUT blah. No wonder the population is getting dumber and dumber.

Just kidding.

Concerning Masturbation and her Orgasms

If you’re not regularly getting laid is masturbation the best idea? Of course to most it is, and I surly love it, but in my experience it gets me to thinking about sex more than I would if I just didn’t do it.

Now I know some people who can’t stand not to do it. They cut off conversations say, “Sorry man I gotta go. I gotta wack off.” Around my second year of college I remember I was the same way. I had just ordered a Rabbit and had gotten it in the mail. Upon opening it I immediately realized that it didn’t come with batteries. “FUCK,” I shouted. I ran to the WAWA a block from my house. I brought back some double As. Then I took a closer look at Mr. Rabbit. It needed Cs. “FUCK”.

I ran back to WAWA in a fury. You would think someone had died. I was determined. I hated the idea that I couldn’t just begin the fun right away. Finally I came back victorious, but hell that rabbit wasn’t nearly as good as my eager beaver as I soon found out.

So these days my eager beaver is my friend. He goes to bed with me every night. I look over, and then everything gets blurry. I fall asleep.

I have fallen asleep and forgotten to masturbate for 14 days in a row once. Actually I think that’s an exaggeration, but it sure felt like it. This morning I was thinking about it, and I began to wonder, “Has masturbation become a chore?” In the same way that I exercise to keep fit, it now seems like I feel obligated to masturbate to remind myself that I’m a sexual being. Rarely do I actually feel the need to do it anymore. As many have told me about the single life, you do get to a point where you simply don’t care as much about orgasms anymore. I never thought this could apply to me, I mean, I have been told multiple times in my life that I’m a horn ball! What happened?

Maybe I got tired of orgasms because they make me stupid later? They’re doing that right now (winks). They also have the same addictive element as food. Once I start I can’t stop, I can’t stop until I have lowered my IQ by 20 points.

There’s also the problem of who you think of when you masturbate. Sometimes I dread masturbating because guess who I’m mostly likely to think of? My ex, horray. For about 30 mins after the deed I wonder where he went, why everything went wrong, and why he can’t bring me chocolate.

And now here I am, dumb dumb dumb and so worn out I can’t help but go back to bed.

Barbarian Show Down

A night with over produced hip hop and drunk jocks is one thing, but a night with dated hip hop, bad alcohol and very few drunk jocks that can speak coherently is even worse. That is if you’re used to drunk jocks speaking coherently.

So is the story of my ridiculous attempt to get matched up with a boy outside of my hipster circle. I thought that finding a Marina boy might at least mean I’d get taken out to dinner, but I forgot about the boy slang, the bad music, and the bad drinks.

I met D., the boy whose party it was, awhile back. I was on more substances than I’d like to mention when this meeting took place, and let me not forget to mention that this meeting lasted a total spand of one and a half minutes and two sentences. The concensus later on was this: He thought I was cute. Looking back, I somewhat remember that he was to.

But then, over a month later, when I finally saw his facebook profile before the alleged party I realized that I can travel out of the world of hipsters, but maybe not that far? I decided to try anyway.

We arrived at the party around midnight. It was small, most of the people were techies and just about everyone was already hammered. I had proposed prior to that night that I wouldn’t be drinking. Upon walking in the door I questioned if that aspiration was in any way reasonable. After all, alcohol was made for situations like these.

And then he came along. I was to make the whole occasion nothing special. I wasn’t to reveal that I’d already seen his facebook profile, remembered his and had asked my friends if I could meet him again more than three times. When I saw him the fact that I had done any of this became extremely embarrassing.

“Let’s get fucked up….,” he said to everyone, or something like that. His gesticulations, posture, everything reminded me of a robot that was still operating despite a major internal malfunction. Alcohol wasn’t the only thing to blame for this.

Betty, the friend that was trying to match make, introduced us. He noticed me, but was probably so wasted his eyes couldn’t focus. He proposed to get me a special drink, ran out of the room and apparently forgot to return. Betty felt awful.

“He’s being an asshole,” she said.

“Not really, he doesn’t know who I am. This is typical behavior,” I responded. It’s not that I expected special treatment or that I thought he was an asshole. I just thought he was dumb.

Then came the next problem, finding a way to entertain myself at the party after determining that the guy was a douche. Hmmm…that was hard. I tried to resort to drinking, but the drinks were so bad I couldn’t take more than a few sips. I looked at my other friend and realized she hated it there, and fortunately for the love of her and anyone who has common sense, I got out of there.

Right before leaving, Usher’s old hit “Yea” came on the radio. I remembered secretly dancing to it in my room years ago, except that I couldn’t remember offhandedly just how long ago that was. All I knew is that it was before I moved to California…which was some time ago.

I looked back at the kitchen, and there he was, that sloppy guy dancing against a platinum blond with a red cup in the corner. He let go, people cheered said “OWWWWW” as if he was doing something radical. I smirked. I guess that is what freedom looks like to modern barbarians.

Sex and the City – A Review

So I’m not going to bust this movie’s bubble if you haven’t already seen it, but I just had to talk about it. I’ve waited a whole week to do so!

I thought it was great while watching it. Of course it was, I love the characters, and I just miss seeing the show. This alone made the movie good. It was also exciting, and featured some elements that I could relate to – heart break and all that jazz. But there were a few tired aspects of it, such as a conflict organized around one small thing someone said – those rarely cause the amount of damage that movies seem to think they do…in reality you couldn’t fuel a whole plot on one little dumb thing someone said, that is unless you are Ian McEwan.

Then there was the overall message of the film, what you got when you stopped to think about what they were saying under all those jokes and pretty dresses. It was pretty clear: Love. Yes, that’s nice and all, but put more bluntly this came out as, ‘you’re meant to fall in love, you need someone no matter how hard you try to be on your own.’

I don’t need a movie, especially one based on a concept that once contested such status quo notions, to tell me that I’m supposed to end up happily ever after with a man. There are already countless pressures from society telling me this, hell even my friends are starting to. So really, do I really need one more movie slapping the L-word in my face? Not really.

Now if there’s one thing I’ve noticed, it’s that if you package a message in the right way, it’s loads less offensive. Sex and the City was a long winded show combining stories of disaster and success in the romantic world. This made it seem more realistic and made it’s overall conclusion – every girl got her man – far less nauseating than when such ends are all tied up in a two hour movie. I guess that’s the major flaw, but you also never saw a girl carrying a love charm get taken seriously in the show, in fact she would have been the butt of a joke rather than the hallmark of the episode.

With all this said, I was damn sad after I saw Sex and the City last Friday. I was already feeling lonely, but somehow the movie made it way worse. The feeling continued on, ending early this week. THANK GOD. Now I’m back to being practically asexual and forgetting that the male sex exists. Ok that’s not true.

In the long run, though, I know that there are other things to aspire towards besides simply having a boyfriend, husband etc. I mean really, is this all life’s about?

I think I’m still rockin with this:

Looking Forward

After a long while of not being interested in anyone, I have a somewhat interest in a guy whose face I can’t remember who I met at a club in the Marina over a month ago. I am going to his house party. I have been invited. He made an effort to tell one of my friends that I was cute. I am cute? I forgot that.

Now I just have to figure out how to lose ten pounds by Saturday. Sike! I think five is more realistic.

 

Distorted Messages

Distorted messages reign supreme in my love life. I have attributed this to a lack of interest on the part of the guy, but then why doesn’t he just ignore me I wonder? Case in point:

Yesterday I randomly sent a message to a guy named David who I used to really like. Here’s the back story on him:

I met David at a soul party around March through a friend I was attending the event with. I was immediately attracted. He reminded me of a fuck buddy I have back home who I miss from time to time. I liked his expressions. I liked the way he smelled.

Though I don’t usually pursue men as much anymore, I made an effort to make conversation with him which lead to us drinking and talking all night. He is a sex therapist, who went back to school to study human sexuality.

A friend of mine passed by us while he was getting us a drink and I told her how into him I was.

“Dude he’s totally into it too,” she said.

This was a revelation. Wow, a guy whose easy to read. Finally, I found him. Indeed, talking to him was easy and everything seemed to flow naturally. At the end we convinced our mutual friend to get pizza with us at 3am. We got it on with our meat and carbs ordering bacon pizza and other such things. How romantic…or better yet how unapologetic. I thought I had met the one.

After that we went back to my house and licked and bit each other for hours on end. I told him I wouldn’t have sex with him though, because “I wanna see you again,” I said.

His response was naive, “Why do you think that having sex on the first date means I won’t see you again?”

He and I never did have sex. We saw each other once after that, had another romantic night, this time with sushi rather than bacon, and lay in bed kissing for hours. It was enchanting and made me glow.

But then I didn’t see him again. Apparently he got too busy with school, and while he did answer my texts he didn’t ever commit to hanging out with me again. I also noticed a particular girl becoming a regular on his myspace comments. I gave up, and I am happy I did.

Yesterday, in a state of complete emotional detachment,…otherwise called boredom.. I wrote him the following message in his comments:

“I just found the best sushi restaurant near my house. I was in sashimi heaven. You’d like it.”

You can imagine I had my motivations for writing the message, but I was def. right in saying I thought he’d like it. Strangely enough, I actually thought of him when I was eating the sashimi. I wondered what he would think of it.

The next day he commented on one of my photos, one in which I was at a beach. He said it was his favorite beach, that his family had camped there for 20 years. Then he asked me if I’d found the fort like tree.

Huh?

It’s not that I take this all seriously, it’s just well, why bother writing back at all if you’re no longer interested? I don’t get it. Why generate excitement within someone when you don’t plan on doing anything about it?

Beats me.

I wrote him back, but all and all, I think I’d be better off with a man whose words weren’t so distorted.

Cabin Fever

yep, that’s right my heart is stuck up in the mountains and it’s fucking snowing hard.

That is to say, I have become completely detached from guys and worthwhile dating is this thing that is way way over there…..I can’t quite get a picture of it.

This weekend was really awesome and was spent entirely with friends. I might have forgotten that men existed in fact. I had two dinner parties, went to the gym, went dancing, and yesterday I went hiking.

My friend Ellie and I spent most of the weekend together. We are neighbors and I am enjoying hanging out with her. We had a big day on Saturday, going to markets, buying cookware, planning one of the two dinner parties etc.

At one point we ran into an ex of hers in the market and it got me thinking about something. This fellow had strung her along for a hot week, promising wonderful sex – he was a former porn star – only to call her later on to tell her that he ‘was just starting to get serious with someone else and couldn’t see her anymore.’ This whole affair ended about 2 weeks ago, so Ellie was still pretty burned.

I found them in the market, near the olive oil section, and realized that it was he who she was talking to. He was with a woman, supposedly his sister. I helped her part ways with him and noticed him graze his hand along her hip as she was walking away – you know one of those little motions of affection.

She was obviously very offended by him. We were heading to the gym which I told her was the best thing for her at the time.

I couldn’t help but notice how detached I was from this sort of situation though. There wasn’t anyone I liked, nobody to fawn over, nobody to cry over. I felt extremely lucky.

On the other hand, it’s hard for me to understand whether this is healthy. It seems like one should have emotions, or desire to be with someone to at least some extent right? Staying away from such things never feels like a permanent option either, just a temporary solution.

Sunday night, I tried to put a bit of a stop to this by going out dancing with my friend Dana – she is great and one of the only people I know who will get me to go out. But even though I was out and about with people my own age, I still felt very self-protective. Confident, but self-protective.

I approached this guy Tom I used to have a crush on, who also used to have a crush on me. He asked me where the hell I’d been. I said, “Studying”. I found myself wishing that something more could come of the situation, but wasn’t prepared to do anything that might end up in frustration – he has a tendency to frustrate me.

I have this theory that relationships shouldn’t be annoying, that if something is supposed to happen it will. Before I took action, and put myself in situations that often didn’t fit my personality or in some way downplayed who I was.

Despite that I’m happy that this is over, I do feel a little sheltered, and a little curious about what could happen if I just got out in the cold every once in awhile.

When Desperation’s In The Air..

it is best not to act upon it.

Unfortunately that request is virtually impossible to follow, if not down right painful.

On Friday, I met up with my good friend Betty and her boyfriend Todd (they would hate me if they knew I randomly picked these names). Todd knows all about me, I know much about Todd, but we did not meet until Friday. I thought I would think Todd was ok, but he was great, and I was very happy for Betty, maybe even jealous? Jealous, me? No way!

Until this past Friday I thought I had ridden myself of romantic thoughts altogether. During all these entries I’ve written never did I feel a shread of affection for anyone. I deemed myself lucky. Couples don’t bother me, let them have their fun. But something about this time, I don’t know what it was, was it because it was a new love?

My friends are in their honey moon stage of love. I have an easy time being with couples who have been together for awhile, but when you’re with two people who are still completely obsessed over each other it can be difficult. This is not to say that I was the third wheel. Indeed since Todd and I had not met before, it was almost like Betty was the third wheel. But after everything he said to me you could see the slightest bit of attention in her direction that revealed that he was always thinking of her no matter who he was talking to. I found it charming, a sure way to temporarily crack whatever it is I have put up for so long.

I can’t say that I was sad, but somehow, for the first time in a long time, I felt the absence of someone else, someone who might look at me in the same way, buy me dinner and take care of me when I drank too much.

When I went home that night, I was slightly wasted and alone. I don’t know how it happened, but I spent the night dreaming of my ex boyfriend. Throughout all my dreams he was resisting me, taunting me, but never letting me have him. He informed me that I was wrong to think that we’d had some great love affair, at least not the kind he was dwelling on. Finally I got him to lie with me in a hay stack or something. How sad.

I awoke with this raw feeling, and let myself sleep for a little longer. I felt sad, but why? Somehow the brightness of the sky and the promise of tasty treats at the farmer’s market (which is every Saturday) couldn’t get me out of my bad mood. After awhile, though, I was fine and spent the day in the sun, met up with a friend, and ended up having an amazing dinner outside.

However, come Sunday and it was back, and it has been back for some time. It’s not as though I can’t see myself without a man, it’s that I can’t see myself with one. No matter how many times we try to convince ourselves that this doesn’t bother us, that a man can really be an island, it always comes up again. Sometimes, if not all the time, but it does exist nonetheless, and I do believe it is even easier to spot at the end of the road (that place is far from where I am now obviously, but still).

Recently I learned that I was not the only one to experience this phenomenon. I blame it on the hot weather of this past weekend:

As of today I learned Jane had planned a date with her ex. from a year ago, one who was mean to her.

My best friend Lucy went on a date with a bio tech major, which says something. She claims it was the most difficult date of her life.

I asked the clingy moron from The Orgasm of Reason post, let’s call him Dennis, to come back to my house on Sunday night, and unfortunately I had another orgasm of reason.

Come Monday, I decided I want to be alone. I’d rather date no one than the wrong person, or the more desperate than me annoying folks.

When desperation is in the air it’s best to get a cupcake and go to bed….

or eat it at your office, and go for an evening jog….