I'm a Girl, and I'm Allowed to Have Butterflies.

The Girly Man had no excuse for the "butterflies in my tummy" comment, but I would argue that it's a totally different story when the little bastards are flitting around in mine. I'm a girl. I overthink stuff, especially when it comes to dating, but about other things too.

When I have a crush (to use 7th grade language), I simultaneously love and hate the way it makes me feel (Nervous AND excited. Eeks.) And then I go into massive overthinking mode, where I think I said something a little bit wrong via text message, or I forgot to emoticon it so my tone didn't come off exactly right, and he's probably mad at me now. ("He" is the universal he...Not a particular one, I'm guilty of this type of overthinking pretty much any time I let myself get even the slightest bit emotionally involved.)

So I literally run myself ragged (in my head) until it gets cleared up, which it almost always does, and then I feel stupid for a second, then happy that it's all fine. That is, happy and fine until the next time it takes 3 hours to return a message, even though I KNOW he's busy with whatever task is happening that particular day, and maybe, oh just maybe, my stupid little text message isn't as important as the task. At least not right that second.

Sigh.

I'd like to say that one of these days, I'm going to learn how to not let the emotions creep in, at least not right away. But I think as women, we're hard-wired such that our emotions define are who we are at that particular moment in time. I know that I'm a totally different personality when I'm calm, cool, and relaxed, but there's another girl that comes out of the woodwork when I'm stressed and anxious. It's like a light switch--fine one second, then freaking out (internally, anyway), the next.

This is the thing that's really interesting about me. Most people who know me think I'm pretty collected the majority of the time. Those who know me well can probably see glimmers of the other me from time to time, but on the surface, I think I usually look pretty much fine. It's a tough battle to wage when the world expects that level-headed person most of the time...especially on the days when I don't really feel like I have my act together, and guess what, I might not have it together tomorrow either.

I get anxious about new relationships. I get anxious about money (mostly because I never have that much). I get anxious about work. (See "anxious about money" as a reference here. Ha.)

There are effing nervous butterflies in my stomach all the time, and it sucks. Calm | Cool | Collected?? Not always.

Are you following me yet? I know for a fact that more than 15 people read this! If not for me, do it for the poor butterflies. :)

PS: Not totally related, but this happens to be one of my favorite songs. Seemed appropriate, given the post's title.

A Note about Me

Let's get something straight, okay? This blog is nothing more than a creative outlet for ME, and I happen to share it with other people. Under no circumstances do I intend anything I write to be malicious, harmful, spiteful, or just plain mean. I try to keep it light, fun, and entertaining. I like to describe things so that you might feel that you are part of the experience with me. You wanna live vicariously though my words? Be my guest!
I just like to write, and luckily, my life is often entertaining enough that I can spin some awkward situations into pretty damn entertaining story lines.

It's come to my attention that some people are feeling a bit...uhhh...unhappy with a recent post. I've taken that into consideration and appropriately adjusted my wording in order to alleviate any ill feelings that have happened and to avoid any potential future conflicts. Or at least, I've taken my best shot to do so.

Please understand one thing: I am one of the most trustworthy and respectful people you would ever meet, and so I take it very personally when someone I care about (in whatever way that might be...friendships, romances, family members, etc.) feels injured or upset by something I have done. I do what I can to set the situation right, and to avoid repeating the same thing in the future. I hesitate to say "repeating the same mistake" because that indicates I've done something wrong, which in this case, I have not.

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving, and please, take a minute this week to be thankful for the things that truly matter in your life.

Empire State of Mind...Or Not?

It's official--I am FINALLY no longer a New York City virgin. I just got home from my first trip to the Big Apple...minus the one I took when I was like 8 with my parents, but does that really even count since I can't remember much?

What with this being a work trip, I didn't get to venture to as many parts of Manhattan as I would have liked, but I definitely brought home a few stories and an awesome bruise on my right thigh as souvenirs.

My hotel was just about a half block off of Times Square, so there was plenty to see and do in a very small area. My first experience of the square happened just after the sun had gone down on Saturday night. Now, I am not an easily overwhelmed person and I can generally handle new situations without looking like a lost and confused puppy. But when I stepped onto Times Square at 5:30pm on Saturday night, I was in complete sensory overload. The throngs of people were crushing, loud, and fast. It was basically a sea of faces, none of which I had time to register in my head. Add that to the flashing lights coming from every angle, and random street vendors trying to get your attention ("You like comedy? Miss! Miss! You should come to our show!"), and I couldn't keep my focus to save my life. (Nevermind the nasty head cold I was fighting...that certainly didn't help with the fog in my head.)

Mind you, at this point in time, it's just me and a friend. (Yes, just a friend. I have lots of them.) My friend is familiar with the city, and decided that he would show me around a bit. We had dinner reservations at 7:30, but I was hungry and so we stopped in some little pub for a drink and an appetizer.

Fast forward through dinner, and this is where the catastrophe happens. After dinner, we decided to check out the square a bit more and came across a dueling piano bar. It was on a side street, and to get to the bar, you had to manuever down a flight of dark stairs into a basement. Here's your equation:

New Heels + Rubber-Coated Stairs

=

Disaster

Yes, my right heel slipped out of my shoe, caught my stiletto on the corner of a rubber freakin' step, and I tumbled down about 4 stairs. I imagine I looked a bit like a rag doll as I flopped my way down--not nearly as graceful as a slinkly would have executed it's descent. The contents of my purse went flying and it took me a good couple of minutes to get up and shake it off. My reward was the giant bruise on my right thigh. (It's now varying shades of purple and red. Fancy.)

                                      

If you aren't snorting coffee out your nose by now, then you must be dead inside. Ha!

Night One in NYC: Big Apple-1, Me-0.

The rest of the trip was basically without incident. I was working a trade show (yes, I was sober and on my A-game for the working portion of the trip), and it went quite well. I did manage to squeeze in a little more fun on Monday night, as I was off on Tuesday and didn't fly home until later in the evening.

On Monday at the show, our neighbors across the aisle at the Samsung booth finally introduced themselves, and I found myself invited to their VIP customer party that evening. As I was already planning to meet up with the Mistress of NYC, I thought that an open-bar party would be a decent way to kick off our evening. We headed to the Time Warner Shops (way cool building, by the way), and met up with my new friends from Samsung. The bartenders had a heavy hand, which made watching the 3D televisions even more fun.

After the party, we caught the subway (being the big city girl that I am) and headed down to the West Village for a cabaret show. It. Was. Awesome. The guys on stage were so incredibley talented! And did I mention that another of my new friends from the show joined us? A tall, dark, and handsome fellow from Chicago who approached me at the booth, pretending to have a question about the products, but who really just wanted to ask for my number. Smooth.

Our evening progressed to a rooftop bar in the village, which had some pretty awesome views of the city, then finally back towards the square. The evening concluded at a dive bar where the guy whose booth we stole immediately began puking on the floor. Keep it classy, NYC.

My final assessment of the big city is that I was not as enamored by it as many people seem to be. I was very happy to get back to Cincinnati and to sleep in my own bed with my dogs. I've been to a lot of cities throughout the country, and I can definitely say that New York is not (yet) on my list of places I would move. Maybe next time I'll get to see more of the neighborhoods and my mind will be changed.

But for now, I'll keep my shenanigans in Cincinnati, thankyouverymuch.

Revival of the Dating Experiment? And Yet Another Fun Date Story.

Ahhh yes. The dating experiment. The one that lasted for about three weeks before my pool of eligible bachelors dried up and my "one date a week" goal died before it even got its legs. A very sad story, if I do say so myself.

I've actually been on a couple dates in the last month or so, but I haven't written much about them. Let's discuss The Girly Man. We haven't talked about him yet. Ohhh, TGM.

He was a Match.com guy who lives in the area near where I work. That's fine, I'm there every day, so it's not like the distance was too far. We emailed a bit, then exchanged numbers, did the text dating thing, and finally set up a happy hour time to meet. I knew from his pictures that he was pretty cute, and from his profile and our emails, I knew that he had a steady, stable job, his own house, and dogs. So far so good.

We met at a restaurant, where of course I arrived early and got a glass of wine (What up, happy hour! $2.50 for a very generous pour? Yes please!). He arrived, awkwardly hugged me when I stood up (I'm a hugger, not a hand-shaker), and sat down next to me at the bar. The bartender came over and he ordered.............a glass of water. I took a big slug of my wine.

A few minutes later, we decided on a couple of appetizers and he decided to go ahead and order a big boy drink. He ordered.............a Michelob ULTRA. Oh yes, not a less wimpy beer like a Sam Adams, or a Stella, or a Miller Lite. No, a Mich Ultra. Was this red flag #2? No matter for this spinster, I stuck it out.

The evening went along fine, conversation was fine and not all that awkward. He walked me to my car, gave me an awkward hug, and we went on our merry ways. To be fair, his pictures were relatively accurate, so I can't complain about that. Cute, but not hot. And he was a genuinely nice guy, really.

Another series of texting began, during which time he proceeded to call me "sweet" several times. I've been accused of being a lot of things but for the love of GOD, I am not sweet. Not a sweetheart, not a sweetie, not anything that sounds remotely sugary. I'm more of a smartass, a sarcastic little bugger who can occasionally be somewhat thoughtful. I. Am. Not. Sweet. Little girls with curly blonde pigtails and blue eyes are sweet.

No matter, I thought to myself. Why certainly I'll go out with him again! Which I did, the following weekend. I happened to be in his neck of the woods again, so I casually invited him to meet me at a party that evening. The party turned into a night on the town, and if my beer goggles calculated correctly, he consumed a total of.....TWO MICH ULTRAS. I consumed a total of all of the alcohol in Dayton.

But surely it has to get better than this, I thought. I can't quite remember, but I think it was actually the very next day, a Sunday, where I had placed myself firmly at my fave pub with my crew for Sunday football. It took some arm-twisting, but I dragged my hungover ass out in public and proceeded to spend the next 19 hours or so drinking with my buddies. (Fine, maybe 17 hours, whatever.) Which of course seemed like the perfect time to invite TGM to stop by.

In all honesty, I really just wanted to see how the guy would react to the situation. Here I am, in the middle of about five drunk, rowdy, not-very-small dudes. He showed up, someone bought him a real beer, and that was all he had. One beer. One tiny little beer.

We said good night.

I was headed out to Vegas shortly after that, but he did send me a few texts in the meantime. One of them said something like this:

"My tummy still tingles when my text message goes off and I think it might be you."

YOUR TUMMY TINGLES? That little blonde haired girl referenced above called, she wants her dialect back.

Another one went like this:

"I hope you're having a good night! TGM misses you!" Yeah, that's him, speaking in the third person.

CincySingleton thinks that was the last straw.

TGM made a few more attempts to get in touch after I got back from Vegas, but I had to let him go. Real men don't drink Mich Ultra and say "my tummy tingles." Unless they are drinking Mich Ultra at a tea party with tiny plastic mugs and their pinky fingers extended.

                       


Anyway, the dating experiment might be back on track. We'll see. I have a few suitors on deck for next week after I get back from NYC, where I will be visiting for work, but also catching up with my fellow blogger from the open post below. Her shiny new blog can be found by clicking here. One of the suitors is Puerto Rican, and has an accent, and as you may already know, I am a sucker for accents.

As always, do two things for me. Go right, click follow, then share share share. And then email me if you have your own story.

DRUM ROLL PLEASE! An Open Post from My First Guest Blogger!

Meet the Mistress of New York City. A transplant who has put her roots down over the last couple of years and has recently delved into the deep dark caves of the dating underworld. Please help me welcome her as she submits her first post! Her own new blog will be up soon, and I'll guide you to it as soon as it's up and running. Enjoy, and thanks girl!

The #1 Text Dater
I've been in NYC for over 2 years but haven't dated because I wanted to get settled here first. But i decided I'm ready to date and joined a few sites, Plentyoffish.com and OkCupid.com. I've talked to a few guys on both sites, but nothing turned into dates. I'm a big text messenger & I thought texting with a guy would be a fun, flirty and easy way to get to know someone. But now I've decided I need to stop DATING THROUGH TEXTING. Here is the 1st reason why.....

About 2 months ago, I finally started talking to someone I thought was interesting enough and he asked me out to dinner. We exchanged phone numbers a few days in advance and the "Text Dating" began.

I knew he worked in computers so I thought I asked him some advice about my computer.

I texted "My computer is running so slow lately. Do you know an easy way to clean delete unwanted stuff?"

He texted "What are the specs?" Right then he got all crazy, nerdy computer guy on me. He texted "You can bring your computer to our date & I can look at it."

I texted "I don't want to lug it around with me all day because I won't be able to go home between work and the date." but in all reality, WTF? Why would you want to fix a computer on the 1st date? Seriously?

The date finally came. I showed up and he was already at the bar. He was not what I expect... and not in a good way. All of his pictures on his profile were cute but just of his face. I'm not one to be superficial about that kind of stuff but he had larger birthing hips than me. Being a bigger girl all my life, I tend to be attracted to stockier guys, but the hips on this guy were uncalled for. Okay, I'm a bitch, whatever. I go to the bar and said hello. He smiled and said he's so excited to finally meet me. We have a 3 course meal and I drank 3 glasses of wine. I should of know I wasn't that interested in him when I was having more fun flirting with the cute gay waiter every time he came to our table.

I knew that "HIPS" lived in New Jersey, but I find out that he doesn't live right over the bridge, but like 45 mins into Jersey. He talked about how long it took him to get into the city. I don't mind dating someone who lives in Jersey but only if it's right on the other side of the river because how the hell am i supposed to get there if not. I don't own a car.

                             

The conversation was fine. Nothing too exciting but there wasn't any awkward pauses or moments either. One thing I always ask on dates is... What's your deal breaker? Mostly because I want to tell them MY deal breaker to see their reaction. My deal breaker is: I can not date someone who is homophobic. I have too many gay and lesbian friends to even tolerate someone like that. Once I told him that, he told me he has a lot of gay friends and is completely cool with the gays. He also knew some "gay terms" like top, bottom & versatile. Which made me laugh. His deal breaker?? I can't even remember, so it wasn't that important, eh?

He paid for dinner, which was over $100 so that was a plus. He asked me if he could drive me home since his car is parked around the corner. I thought about saying no, but then realized my metro card ran out the day before, so I said he could. Hey, I needed to get home somehow! The car was really small and when we got into it, I wanted to be Chris Farley in Black Sheep singing, "Fat Guy in a Little Coat". He drove me home and we made small talk, nothing exciting. I had him pull up to my corner and drop me off there. He said, I'd love to see you again. I said, sure. (why did I say sure? I don't know. it just came out) Then I leaned over to him and pecked him on the lips! WHAT? Why did I do that?? I'll tell you why. Because every single time I'm with my gays, we greet and say goodbye to each other exactly like that. Damn It!

On my way upstairs get an text from him saying, "I had a great time. You are so beautiful. I'd love to take you out this week. Maybe a movie?" Okay, if you live in NYC you know how expensive movies are. It's $15 to see a movie at night, plus any snacks or popcorn, you are talking way over 25 bucks per person. So do I go out with him again, just to see a movie.... ummm.

I texted him back, "I had a nice time too. What movie are you thinking?"

He texted back, "Inception". Damn it, I've been wanting to see that movie for weeks now.

I text back, "Oh I've been wanting to see that. What night?"

He texted back,"Does Tues work for you?" Tuesday totally worked for me. Damn. Why did I say yes? Is it because I haven't been out on a date in over 3 years and I don't want to feel like a complete loser anymore... or am I just a bitch?

Three days later, I met him at the theater. He already bought our tickets online...score! He asked if we could share some popcorn. I love popcorn. He bought us popcorn and drinks. We sat in the back of the theater. His hips almost didn't fit. I'm a bitch for noticing that, I know. We watched the movie. I made sure to keep my hands in my lap, not giving him any opportunity to reach for my hand.

After the movie, he suggested we get a drink. I thought, why not. But instead, he choose a hummus place. We sat by the window and he ordered a large bowl. I wasn't even hungry because I ate way too much popcorn. This is where we get into the heavy stuff.

He started with... "Where do you see yourself in 5 years?"

I told him, "I don't really know. I know that I love living in NYC and I'll probably be here."

He asked, "What do you mean, you don't know? Everyone should have an answer to this question."

I said, "Well, sorry, I don't."

From that point, I was totally over this date. Why would you put down someone's answer? He kept talking and I kept smiling and nodding. He asked me if I wanted a ride home again, I said sure. He drove me home. He asked if I wanted to hang out again this weekend. I told him, I wasn't sure what my weekend looked like but maybe. He leaned in to kiss me and I gave him my cheek then hopped out of the car.

My roommate was home. We started hashing out the pros & cons of the night, when I got a text message.

"Are you just not into me?" he texted.

"I'm not sure how I feel. I would like to be friends though." I texted.

"Friends? I have enough friends. I don't understand how you can change your feelings about me after just seeing a movie." he texted.

"It was after the movie. All the stuff you talked about. It seems like you are a little too needy for me." I texted. What did I have to loose? It's not like I wanted to see this guy again.

There was a long pause and I thought he wasn't going to text me back, then I got....

"I am the least needy person you've ever met & if you stopped hanging out with only gay guys you might know the difference."

WHAT. THE. EFF? Seriously? There was no what-so-ever way I'm even considering going on another date with him now. I mean, really?? DEAL BREAKER! I didn't even give him the satisfaction of a reply. About 3 minutes later he texted again, "Yea, good luck ever finding someone. Don't contact me again." WHAT?!?! Thus ends the 1st TEXT DATER story.

Men are Crazy...And Viva Las Vegas!

Okay...so...well. Right. Here we go: What is the deal with attached men hitting on me lately? Not necessarily married guys, but guys who are in relationships. (Although if you recall the Lying Cheating Bastard story...turns out that one was actually still married at the time. Nice.)

What is it about me, or them, or their relationships, that makes it seem like a good idea to send me these signals? Now don't get me wrong, I'm not EVER going to knowingly act on this kind of thing. But this weekend has just made me stop and think about what's going on. Maybe it's me? Maybe they're not happy in their current relationships? It's really frustrating because I can't seem to find a decent single guy, but hey, if you're already in a relationship, then go ahead and dangle it in my face because there's not a thing I can do about it. Thanks dudes.

If you have any insights on this topic, please leave me a comment because my brain is about to burst.

Oh, and this is all making me have really weird dreams. More specifically, I've been dreaming about the guy who went away for a month this summer, only to come home and THEN break my heart. Which is great really, because who wouldn't want to relive heartbreak over...and over...and over...?

Aside from all of this, things are okay right now. Vegas was awesome, as usual. It was great to see some friends who I haven't seen in a long time, and meet some new ones as well. We definitely did it up right, but I'm still not sure who won the battle: Us or Vegas? I do know that there is probably not a drop of vodka left in the town, because we certainly must have consumed all of it. I met a very handsome Australian guy too. Damn those accents. I'm a sucker.

                                  

I'm still on the dating circuit, so we'll see how it goes. I think my match subscription is up in a couple of weeks, so I'll have to decide if I want to stick with it. I don't know...I emailed a super cute guy last week, but he never answered me, so I'm feel a little disenchanted. This is one of the first ones that I was really hoping to get a response....darn it.

Okay, off I go. If you aren't following me yet, just head on over to the right side bar and do it. You know you want to...

10 Things I'm Thinking Right Now

A new feature? I don't know. We'll see how this round goes.

1. WHY do I still watch Jersey Shore? It's not even in effing Jersey.
2. I can't wait for the end of the work week. I need to relax.
3. Would one more glass of wine give me a hangover in the morning? Because right now I think I'll be okay.
4. Maybe I should just risk it.
5. Friends and a good dinner are 100% the cure for a sad and confused soul.
6. On that note, I am full of Italian food.
7. How much farther would I have to suck in my belly before my lower back starts to look bloated? (Blame it on the Italian food!)
8. The Situation is a douchebag. Yeah, still watching. Eff.
9. I am not looking forward to Monday.
10. My stomach is more talented than any symphony. True story. It's like putting your ear to a seashell and hearing the ocean, except it's my stomach and it sounds like the depths of the earth preparing for a massive volcanic explosion. Gurgle.

Hey, I said it was all about things I was thinking RIGHT NOW. Don't judge. Just laugh.

Loves.