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Don’t Know What To Do

7 Jun

It’s over.

I’ve always wanted a great guy. Someone who was attentive, sweet, smart, tall…

Found him and I’m not interested in him.

And I feel awful about it.

Have I met and dated so many douches that I’m damaged forever?

Don’t know what to do…

 

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Lose-E-Anna – Part Trois

17 Sep

Date #2 – 9/1/12
Lose-E-Anna (or Jarrod) is new to Houston and told me on our first date, that he wanted to experience Houston’s museums.

Since he wanted to hang out and had a lot of time, I decided to take him to the Contemporary Arts Museum – Houston (CAMH) and the Museum of Fine Arts – Houston (MFAH). We met near Beltway 8 and 290, around noonish, so that we could drive together in one car. He lives in BFE (Kingwood) and I live in RFF-BFE (on the other side of town).

When he picked me up, he said he was hungry. “Let’s do lunch,” he said. “Sure,” I said.

I googled restaurants and asked him what he was hungry for. He picked burgers.

Somehow, we ended up on Washington Avenue and as I searched for “burgers” on Google’s Map, The Counter came up. We went, we ate, we liked.

The Counter has a unique burger menu. He had the veggie burger and I had a build-your-own, with a lettuce melody and sprouts on provolone. We split an order of my favorite snack: sweet potato fries. The food was delicious! So…shout out to The Counter!

After lunch, we set sail on our museum adventure and arrived there just before 2 p.m. It was raining. Fun! He left me borrow his umbrella though. Sweet. : )

Once inside, CAMH didn’t really amuse him…in fact, I think he hated it. Technically…it might have been the worst museum he’s ever been to. The CAMH, is really only for the eccentric and quirky, and he is not. The only thing he did like, was the gift shop.

But…contemporary art museums can be a little weird for first-timers and so I didn’t really think anything of it. My parents used to take me [often] when I was younger; so the traveling exhibit, not even the weirdo, naked pictures of men and women, scared me off. Hmm, does that mean I’m a weirdo?

Once outside, he couldn’t stop talking about paintings. “I really only like paintings when it comes to art.” I was going to suggest the Science Museum, but since he was Mr. Chatty Kathy about paintings, I directed him to the fine arts museum.

Side Note: I love art in it’s many forms and realize that it’s not for everyone. Clearly.

When we were there, he didn’t want to go through any of the special collections. In fact, whenever I stopped and wanted to look…he complained. He was strictly a paintings guy and that’s it. I’d stop and walk into the Glassel Collections of African, Indonesian & Pre-Columbian Gold and he’d talk (loudly), interupt (me) and/or complain that he didn’t really care about “this stuff.”

He could have cared less about the Collection of Japanese Art, the Scandinavian Design, the Latin American Art Collection, or the various curatorial departments. Those forms of art weren’t “his thing.” In fact, he didn’t think it was art at all.

So we went through the paintings. And here’s where I started to hate him.

I took him to a section of paintings and pointed out the artists who were famous for their impressionism.

As Wikipedia states: it’s a 19th century art movement that originated with a group of Paris-based artists who violated the rules of academic painting. You can learn more here.

Mom = art lover and painter herself. Daughter = educated in art.

Anyways…I began talking about Cassatt, Bazille, Monet, Renoir and he stopped me in mid-paragraph and stated that he didn’t care who the artists were, what they did or, why they were famous. Instead, he said he only liked the paintings that he liked, and thought would look good in his home (speaking of décor).

WTF?

Why go to a museum? Museums are meant to look, teach, educate, inspire. If the only reason why you’re going to a museum is to see what you’d like on your walls because one particular painting has your favorite color in it…sorry…but that’s a shitty reason to go.

Am I being a bitch? Or an art snob?

When he got to eat his cake (see his type of artwork), he was ready to go. And dinner came next. We went to Pappadeaux and had yummy (of course) seafood. At least dinner was good. Conversation seemed okay too. He kept going on and on about how he liked certain aspects of art (paintings) and how he didn’t think [any] photography or the contemporary arts museum was considered art.

Boy is obviously not cultured.

Long story short…we made it through dinner [and his conversations] and then he decided he wanted dessert. I did too. I mean, hell, I AM a woman. Where did we go? None other than House of Pies. We decided on two flavors and then he added another one to the mix and shared. Because we had gotten there kind of late…it was about 10 p.m., we must have not gotten any fresh pies. It was almost like they had been sitting out a little too long. But since I am a girl, and because I have a love for all things pie, and because he has a love for all things sweet…we agreed that we’d try it again. You know…to not write it off.

At this point in the dating game…I’ve realized that the only thing we have in common is that we like to do stupid, but fun stuff (go carts, exploring, people watching, etc), and we both like to eat and try new restaurants.

The moral of this story is: Friends? Yes. Lovers? (as in a relationship…) No.

And, I’ll tell you EXACTLY why in Part Quatre.

Lose-E-Anna – Part Deux

4 Sep

TOTAL GENTLEMAN ALERT.

Well.

August 30th marked it: there really ARE nice guys in this world. And going out on a date with Lose-e-anna, proved it.

The date was pretty awesome if I do say so myself.

I met him after work, at Brickhouse Tavern and Tap on Hwy 290, for dinner. He told me on the phone, before I got there, that if I passed the “cool” test, he’d take me to another place he had in mind.

I, of course, passed it with flying colors.

But dinner. Dinner was good.

When I came in, he stood up and greeted me with a hug. I thought to myself…”I could totally get used to this.”

Lose-e-anna was a very handsome guy. Although his profile said he was only 6′, he was a smidge taller, and that’s a characteristic that never gets old. His striking features: high cheekbones, big lips to sink your teeth into and nerdy glasses made my heart flutter.

We stayed at the restaurant until 7:30 p.m. and then packed up for the next place: Go-Karts!!!

Yes, because I was sooo cool…he took me to an indoor, electric go-kart place just a few minutes from the restaurant. He must have liked “something” about me because he spent a whopping $150 for both us of to race three times. Whoa!

At the restaurant, he gave me hints as to what we’d be doing next and of course, I guessed what it was. I’m a smarty pants and I know it.

When I guessed the activity (go-karts), I told him I was going to beat him badly and hoped he wouldn’t cry. I could have cried instead. He kicked my ass. All over the track.

While we waited for our last race, he asked me out again, wanting to know if I’d be his partner and learn how to salsa dance with him. Since I’ve always wanted to learn, I said, “sure.”

That’ll probably be another blog.

After killing it, and me, on the track, he asked if I’d like to get dessert. What a stupid thing to ask a girl. What woman doesn’t like dessert? He took me to McDonalds and we had sundaes. Cute, I know.

He kept saying that he didn’t want the date to end just yet, and mentioned that he needed to swing by an AT&T or a Best Buy to look at phones. I obliged since I was having such a good time, and like him, didn’t really want the date to end. I really enjoyed his company. Plus, I really needed to cuss out another AT&T guy about my new phone. It was acting super strange.

After Mickey D’s…we traveled to Best Buy only to realize that they were closed. I joked that we should go into Target to play with the toys. Thinking he would think it was a stupid idea, he said, “sweet, let’s go.” And so, we did.

An hour and a half later, he was driving me back to my car. He told me that he had a great time and that he wanted to hang out again (Saturday) and try the salsa dancing.

Did I mention that during my date, he not only opened (all of) my doors for me, but he pulled out my seat wherever we went too?

To end the date, he walked me back to my car and gave me a hug. He told me that he would call me on my drive back to my house, making sure that I wouldn’t fall asleep. After all…it was 11 p.m.

So, in the end, I had a great, 5-hour date, with a sweet guy who talked my ears off, all 30 minutes of my drive home. Did I also mention, he calls me everyday, in the morning, at the same time? Yeah.

I’ll blog about our next date.

likeomigod unplugged

23 May

A lot of you have asked, “When are you going to write again?” or “Have you been on any dates lately?”

Well for starters…”here I am” and “no.”

Well sorta no.

Anyways…

Instead of me apologizing for not writing and telling you that “life” has gotten in the way–let me tell you the truth.

Dating sucks. (It just does.)
Rejection blows. (Always.)
and Love hurts. (Sometimes.)

And after you’ve dated #487,532,691 (please note the exaggeration), and ‘he’ turns into douchebag #487,532,691…it’s depleting.

“It” is the dating.
“It” is finding said dude and talking with him on the phone for minutes/hours/days/weeks/months.
“It” is the first date, the first kiss, the second date and then the second kiss and so on.
“It” is the feeling in your stomach that makes you think, “maybe he’s the one.”
“It” is also the pit feeling in your stomach when you realize said dude is NOT the one.

And “It” is fucking exhausting.

So the time I take in between these blogs is me resting, is me taking notes and adding to the “what not to date” column, and is me putting my heart back together.

Thing is…if you’re a close friend or you just “know me” you know that my heart was broken in 2008. My ex stole a piece of me and shattered my heart into dozens of pieces and to be honest, I don’t even know where some of the shards landed. And as much as I keep saying “I’m okay” or “I’m ready to date again,” I’m lying. I’ve been lying. Lying to myself. And lying to the poor bastards who have been trying to date me.

Going back through all of my blogs… maybe it was me. Maybe I was the problem. Maybe I was the reason the date didn’t end well. Maybe I was the reason why there was no second date.

Maybe I was the reason MovieFaceMark jizzed in his pants at the movie.

[crickets chirping]

 

Okay…maybe not. But what if I was the one who sabotaged all of it because I wasn’t ready?

When I buy an unplugged album, I buy it knowing that it won’t sound like the cool version on the radio that I sing to at the top of my lungs in the shower and in the car. I buy it knowing that I will hear the blood, sweat and tears that made up the album. I buy it knowing that if it’s a happy song, I’ll be able to tell that the artist had a smile on his or her face when they sang it. I’ll also know that if it’s a sad song, I’ll be able to hear the crack in their throat, before the tears even hit their cheeks.

LikeOmigod Unplugged is just that. In 2008 I gave my  heart away to someone whom I thought loved me, and truth is…I never really got it back.

Experts say that you’re supposed to love yourself before anyone else can and they’re right. I don’t love myself. Not right now anyways. Right now…I’m a work in progress.

Most of you know that back in March I moved from Dallas to Houston. It was a quick decision and although my situation has put a kink in my social life, it’s the best decision I’ve made in my twenties.

My thirties are coming up in just a couple of weeks and I’ve made so many improvements on myself, my outlook and what I want. When I turn 30, I look forward to showing the world what I’ve accomplished, what I will accomplish and what I can accomplish in the future.

I’m looking forward to falling in love with myself again and opening my heart up to be able to love someone else. Until then, I just don’t care. I don’t want to fall in love, I don’t want to date, I don’t want to hurt. I just want to pick up the pieces and put them all back together.

Humpty Dumpty did it, why can’t I?

 

 

Going forward…

I’ve pretty much closed down all of my dating accounts – some of them I haven’t even visited because frankly, I forgot the password and don’t even want to spend the time trying to figure it out.

While I’ve clearly stated I don’t care to date anyone (at the moment), it hasn’t stopped guys from asking me out and/or guys being douchebags. It also hasn’t stopped the ridiculous emails that I get on a daily basis and the crazies that keep finding me.

I swear.

But I’m keeping an open mind…because it’s true, “you just never know.”

And you don’t.

Check back soon for a recap of the “4.5 dates,” and the latest stories…”The Racist” and “The Human Trafficker.”

Yeah.  

 

“Hose”

17 Dec

Twitter.

Personally I’m not a fan. Not the actual Twitter part, but the tweeting. The tweeting every two seconds. It’s so annoying and it’s so time consuming!

*I wish you could see my annoyed face*

I don’t mind if other people do it…in fact, reading what other people have to say about their personal lives is actually quite fascinating. For me however, I can’t stand getting on Twitter and having to update my readers with my whereabouts or thoughts every 2 minutes. And besides, I actually lead a pretty boring life. I’m serious.

So instead of creating a Twitter account for myself…I created one for this blog and so far it’s worked out great. I can get by with only one tweet a day or a few tweets a week; sometimes I tweet multiple times, but that’s on the rare occasion that I actually have a blog for all of you.

Another thing I’m annoyed by? Spammers. Spammers on Twitter. I love ‘trying’ to build a fan base, because you know, it would be great to get a lot of people interested in what I have to say…so much that I could write a book about my dates…and people would still be willing to read about them. But spammers…these are the ones where there’s a justifiable name, but porn-like pictures and a porn-dedicated description. Or it’s some chick or some dude with a random name and random picture with a crappy porn-dedicated description. ugh.

Seriously? I’m just trying to tell people my version of the dating game…I don’t need to know about “what toy/touch/lick/whatever will wow him.” I’ve got my own skillz. SMDH

So the point of this blog and the point of my annoyance with spammers is that while I was trying to build up my fan base this morning, some odd, Twitter tweeter named StockingsLove tried to “follow me.”

First of all…when you’ve gone on a FIRST date with a dude who asked you if you wore stockings, liked wearing stockings and then told you what he’d like to do to you in stockings…you know…one might tend to NOT want to be a part of StockingsLove.

Um yeah.

This was a date that I had right out of college when I was still living with my parents and trying to find a job at the age of 22. I had met him at a party through some friends and we decided on Rice Village for our date.

He was a very handsome guy, professional, had a job, a car, came from a good family. Etc, etc.

Yeah…so not even 30 minutes had passed into our date and he was asking me about stockings.

Yep. Stockings. Pantyhose. Leggings. Whatever-you-want-to-call-it. I prefer Sheer-Death-Grip-Leggings. Especially if you’re trying to hold “everything” in.

You may also be wondering right now, how I can remember a date from my early 20s, but this date is just one of those you can’t forget. Trust me.

Him: “So crazy question. Do you own and wear stockings?”
Me: “Stockings? Like-suck-all-the-life-out-of-you-and-keep-me-hot-all-day-in-100-degree-weather stockings?”
Him: “Yeah…those (with a creepy chuckle). Pantyhose. Do you?”
Me: “I own some, but I don’t wear them every day. They’re a pain. Why?”
Him: “I love girls who wear them. You’re pretty leggy…I bet your long legs would look hot in them.”
Me: [blinking]
Him: “So have you ever, you know, played with them?”
Me: “What?”
Him: “Played with them. Worn them while having sex?”
Me: [silence]
Me: “Don’t believe I have. It’s not really my thing.”
Him: “I could eat you right now.”
Me: [silence]
Him: “Wanna know my ultimate fantasy?”

And before I could say “no” to his ultimate fantasy description, his words had me shaking in my bar stool.

I think you all know where this is going. And I also think you don’t need to hear every last R-rated detail of his fantasy…so PG-speaking…he basically told me that he wanted me to wear pantyhose with nothing else on and sit on his face.

[silence]

Yep.

So…can we all see WHY I would NEVER want StockingsLove to follow me?

Weirdos.

Tip #867364758…guys if you want to make it to at least a second date…don’t scare her off with crazy fetish talk. Keep that shit to yourself or tell her on the 36th date, or something. [looking nervously to the side]

 

 

 Just a quick disclaimer: This blog is not saying that I would never try the pantyhose freakyness (because I usually try everything at least once), but mentioning it on a first date guys? Really?

I guess he wasn’t “the one” for me. You think?

Just a slight detour of the 4.5 dates series. Regular programming will be back shortly, unless of course I have another crazy story in between. HA!

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