Here is the response I got:
First of all, I don't accept apologies when someone says, "I apologize." It's too clinical. Unless it's an "I'm sorry," it's no good.
Secondly, he was trying to make up for being a dick by asking me out and then telling me I'm paying?
I just don't get this guy.
~Friday, March 31, 2006
Here is the response I got:
Love, Sarah at 1:58 PM|
~Thursday, March 30, 2006
For some reason, it felt really good to send this e-mail to CB this morning:
I thought by just not responding he would take the hint, but apparently not. Perhaps it's a power thing: turning boys away.
Love, Sarah at 9:20 AM|
~Monday, March 27, 2006
I was at a private party Friday night in Andy's neighborhood, so I thought I would give him a call to see if he wanted to come over. He sounded excited and he met up with me.
We sat at a table in front of a fire place, drinking 16 oz cans of Coors Light. Only I could "declass" a nice bar with cans of cheap beer. We are still in the "getting to know you" phase and the conversation circled around very basic questions, ie where did you grow up, how many siblings do you have, etc.
I don't know how the conversation took a wrong turn, but it did.
And by wrong turn, I mean drove off a closed road.
I can't pin point how it started, but Andy began airing all his family's dirty laundry to me. Which brother's kid isn't really his, which sister had the abortion, typically stuff you wouldn't admit to ever, or at least would wait a considerable amount of time.
Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was nerves, maybe he's a really open guy like that.
Then he turns the conversation towards his love life and I got the low down on the last 7 years of his romantic life. I know it's been 2 years since he's gotten laid. Or a blow job. His last girlfriend was a little shy in the bedroom. I know this stuff, and frankly, I didn't want or need to know most of it. He says how much he's been hurt and he's going to take his next relationship extremely slow.
I excuse myself and go into the bathroom and call Christopher. Sex would be good right now. The dirty kind.
Talking with Andy really bothered me for 2 reasons:
- He didn't ask me anything about myself. Granted, he knows more about me because of my blog, but I would have liked to have felt a part of the conversation, not just some pretty blonde bobble head doll that swigs from her beer can.
- (Get ready for it...) Who does he think he is? Does he really think his pain is special? By the time you're our age and unattached, chances are you've been hurt. What makes him think that he's so goddamn special that he gets to whine about it on a Friday night! I've been hurt, much more recently than him -- you all saw it, and although I think I have some trust issues, you know what I did? I dusted myself off and I got back up. In case you haven't noticed, I put myself out there. BIG TIME. I don't, however, tell a guy I *just* met how much I've been hurt and, to please be careful with me, because I'm a delicate flower.
Is this what guys do these days? Is this their new m.o.? Becker did the same thing, my skanky ex this and my skanky ex that. Are guys just playing the I've-been-hurt card to make them appear sensitive to the opposite sex? 'Cause let me tell you, this is not sexy. First of all, you're really just talking all about yourself -- a subject you love. Secondly it's just making you look weak. Yeah, let me hear how damaged you are. Don't tell me you were obsessed with a girl for a year, because that's just scary. And don't tell me that you're glad you dated her anyways or otherwise you'd still be obsessed, because that's scarier. Way to make the girl effing sitting in front of you feel special. Good job on that. I honestly feel no sympathy for you.
If you're a guy and you're reading this, I hope you're taking notes. I have no tolerance for this. None whatsoever.
Love, Sarah at 1:58 PM|
~Thursday, March 23, 2006
I found this poem recently and I love it. I find it really empowering and liberating. The voice obviously does not partake in sex without love, yet she is jealous of the act. She views those who do it as "purists" which is rather ironic because sex without love is a sin in God's eyes. It's a clinical look at love, acknowledging the partner as simply a factor.
I identify with this poem because that's how I've felt towards my relationship with Christopher. During sex, I'm not thinking about him. I don't even look at him if I can help it. I think about me and concentrate on me, something I don't think I do enough of in general. I feel alone, but in a good way, like a runner as the poem illustrates.
I'm so glad I found something that can articulate how I feel. She wants what I have. She wants to be me.
~Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Whether it's a virtue or a vice, I have the ability to train myself to think certain ways. If I tell myself something long enough, I'll start to believe it.
When I first started this blog, my main thought was to get back together with my boyfriend and land the ring and the house. When I was around my family on Thanksgiving and Christmas, they would bring up past boyfriends and ask me what they're up to these days, always interjecting how much they liked them and missed them being around. Whenever subject of Sarah being the only one not married came up, I would make a face and pretend that I didn't want marriage. In truth, I was too embarrassed to admit that I did want it, but I just failed at obtaining it.
And of course because I had this facade about marriage going on, I also had to adopt the same position about kids. I always thought I would be pregnant by 26, but once again, I didn't want to admit this to my family and let them know what a failure their daughter and sister is.
I would make the face and crack the jokes:
"I'll think about marriage when my looks start to go."
"I'll have kids when I'm 40, dried up, and in a good AA program."
Everyone would laugh and clap their hands. At first it hurt a little every time I made the song and dance because I knew it was such a lie. Soon it would hurt a little less. Then it became fun. I liked this carefree personality; I aspired to become it. I love feeling audacious.
Christopher was talking to me the other day about his brother's wedding. It was just moved to St. Barts and it's going to be a very small affair.
"That's awesome," I said.
"But it's just going to be us," he said. I gathered that he was not happy about the change of plans.
"That's what I'm going to do," I continued, "Elope. Go to Vegas and pocket all that wedding money to use on a house. Marriages don't last anyways, why spend money on them?"
Christopher was silent. I stepped back and took in what I just said. It was no longer the song and dance -- I didn't have to formulate my words and plan my jokes like I was used to doing. I just spewed that out.
Have I been playing the part so long that I just perfected the routine? Or do I believe that? Have I really become that cynical?
I don't know.
My blog description reads, "I'm looking for love. Here's hoping I find it one day." and that's just not true anymore. I've been wanting to change it but "Want a fling? Give Sarah a ring!" doesn't sound the same.
I'm not thinking about marriage anymore. I'm not thinking about love anymore. I can't even imagine a monogamous relationship. Audacious people can't be easily tamed, whether or not I'm still playing the part, or have become one.
I don't know the difference and I don't have the answers to these questions and it terrifies me.
~Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Yesterday was a big day for me. I was congratulating myself on a job well done with the Christopher situation. I'm going to go ahead and say that he missed me and that his behavior was not because he was drinking. I even believe that, at times, he even looked at me differently. He'd look sideways at me and I just felt that there was a secret between us we shared. I don't know what the secret is, but one was there.
Andy and I e-mailed each other all day long and I returned his Sunday call after work. I know it's very early with him, but I think I could really like him in the future.
While I'm on the phone with Andy, Becker calls. I've haven't spoken to him since the ex-girlfriend incident. I called him back after I got off the phone with Andy and Becker is just in this great mood. He told me he got a full-time job and he's moving out of his mother's house in the next couple of weeks. He e-mailed me a picture of him -- he finally got the haircut I wanted him to have and he got hot fast. He was just so excited and talking about places he wanted to take me, telling me he would pay. It was cute.
While checking my e-mail, I get a message from CB. I had completely forgotten about him. He writes that he thinks of me every time he sees any "Walk the Line" stuff (It was the movie we saw) which is apparently all the time because they are promoting that DVD like crazy. He finishes the e-mail with this:
It reminded me of how he asked me out for a second date and then informed me I was paying. I wrote him back and I asked him why he was such a jerk to me the last time I saw him when he threw another temper tantrum. I have no plans to see him again.
It rained yesterday; it also poured.
Love, Sarah at 7:59 AM|
~Monday, March 20, 2006
By this weekend I was pretty much resigned to the fact that Christopher was never going to call me after my last psycho-PMS encounter. My feelings weren't hurt and I didn't feel too badly over it, only that I couldn't believe I made that mistake and Christopher really was the best sex of my life and I was scared my sexual future was going to be a downhill adventure.
I had drunk-dialed Andy Friday night, who was happy to hear from me and left it asking me to call Saturday to make sure I got home safely. I called him Sunday morning when I was shopping and I was waiting to hear back from him.
My phone rings, but it's not Andy's ringtone. Gorillaz's "Feel Good Inc" was playing and only 2 boys have that song in my phone. The other boy is Nick, from last December, and he's currently in Banff. I pick up my phone and sure enough Christopher's picture was glowing on the display.
So when I want Christopher to call, Andy does, and when I want Andy to call, Christopher does.
Story of my life, but not a bad predicament.
Christopher tells me he just got his phone fixed Saturday and he was out with Maddy Saturday night. I knew better than to bring up the last time I saw him, or even ask why he didn't call the night I needed to stay at his place that resulted with me falling asleep at the wheel and spending $80 on a new tire.
He tentatively asks about my plans the past couple of weeks. I omit a lot.
"So what was the name of the guy you hooked up with?" He asks. Christopher begins his games almost immediately into the conversation.
"Which one?" I respond, trying to sound like I didn't catch on to him.
He invites me over. I know he was drinking, but he was uncharacteristically nice. I met him at a bar and he buys my drink. At his place, he keeps his arm around me while we watch basketball. Then he wants to spoon me on the couch. When I said my stomach wasn't settling well and I wanted to sit in the bath, he lit candles, added bubbles, and joined me -- all things he's never done before. Then, wait for this, he tells me to kiss him good night when we're in bed.
Andy calls while we're snuggling on the couch. I didn't answer, but I was also purposely vague with my response when Christopher asked who Andy was.
He wanted me to call in to work this morning so we could spend more time in bed together, but I said I couldn't do that the Monday after St. Patrick's Day, it would look too bad, so I left him sleeping. I don't know if Christopher missed me the last couple of weeks or he was just drunk and friendly or what, but I definitely liked it.
~Friday, March 17, 2006
Andy had 2 strikes against him before the date even started: he was bald and I didn't like the college he attended. It wasn't a real university to me.
I know, I'm finicky.
However, he did have one major plus, he has a genuine interest in all things me. Confession: I have a public blog that I have kept up for 3 years. In that time I have gathered a good amount of exes who still read it and I'm not comfortable giving them access to my love life. Or my mother should she ever Google my name. Since I first met Andy about 6 weeks ago, he visits my blog every day and leaves some funny comment. Additionally he reads all my friends' blogs and he knows their stories too. I don't know if this was to bone up for our date or not, but it shows interest. Major plus.
I hadn't seen him since I first met him, so my memory of Andy was a bit fuzzy. He has a strong brow line, reminding me of Dr. Romano from ER. What hair he does have is cropped very short, so at least he's wearing his baldness correctly, unlike guys who grow the hair on the back of their heads into a ponytail or comb over. He's also taller than me which is a plus because I'm pretty tall for a girl, but then again I wasn't wearing heels yesterday so I can't tell exactly how tall he is.
He's handsome when he smiles. And it turns out I was wrong about what school he attended, he actually went to an acceptable college. He also lives in the most expensive part of town. My eyes twinkled when I heard this that I may as well have taken a piece of paper out of my purse and put a check mark on it.
The conversation was good and we talked easily. I would say something and he would finish my sentence for me and I thought, Wow, this guy REALLY gets me. Then I realized that he apparently read my entire blog. 3 years worth of material. The last 3 years of my life; he knows everything that's important to me. That's why he's finishing my sentences, he's read them already.
I'm a bit torn by this. He knows my character and my personality through embarrassing situations and drunken debaucheries and he still likes me, so that's good. However, I am not going to be a mystery to him, I may as well have titled my blog, "Here's a manual to get to know Sarah." This also puts me at a unfair disadvantage. I know nothing about him unless he shares it with me. And I don't know how to proceed.
But I do want to proceed, we have A TON in common, and because he already knows me, he knows I didn't mean any harm when I gave him an "honorary vagina" for liking Sarah McLaughlin. (He was shocked and laughed and then I realized it probably wasn't good form to say such things on a first date, but I was alcohol-free, so at least I was 1 for 2.)
He said he had a good time and he wanted to do it again, so it looks like I must put my game face on, that's probably my only chance of keeping him interested. Make him work for it.
Love, Sarah at 12:55 PM|
~Thursday, March 16, 2006
So this friend of mine just broke up with the love of her life. It came as quite a shock to me. I thought they would be together forever. I thought she had found it, you know -- the great love. Not only did she find a partner, but they had the "wow" factor together. Their love was so pure and so intense that I feel privileged for just being able to be around it and catch an inside glimpse of something so wonderful.
And now they aren't together anymore. I know she's in this inconsolable immense pain right now, and I'm there for her as much as I can be, but I can't help thinking about myself. If a couple with that fire can't make it work, what shot do I have for love?
I've never loved anyone like that. Not even close. Sometimes I'll be in a relationship and I'll step out of my body and look at him and think, Why am I even with this person? I don't love him. Like I said that I loved Mark, but after all is said and done, I'm not sure that I did. Maybe that is just the bitter aftertaste of the relationship, but other than my first love, I don't feel like I'm able to confidently say that I have loved anyone else.
My friend gave everything of herself into that relationship and it just didn't work out. What chance is there for me, someone who is wandering through life, not really feeling anything for anybody? I'm not even sure I believe in love. I've never been around it: my parents divorced when I was very young and I don't remember anything but them fighting, my mother remarried someone she didn't love just to give us a father figure, my father remarried his mistress and the first time he even told me he loved her was last month... and they've been married 17 years. I've never even had a roommate who was in a relationship. I've never seen it: love in action. The only things I know of love I've learned from sitcoms and movies, and let's face it, that isn't love.
I have a date today. He's bald. I am so bad about that because I'm just not attracted to bald men. I've broken up with several very nice guys just because they didn't have a single hair on their heads. My mother yells at me and tells me I'm too superficial, but I can't help what I am or am not attracted to. He really likes me so I'm going to go and try to have a nice time. I hope I have a nice time.
~Monday, March 13, 2006
~Monday, March 06, 2006
I'm Desperate Sarah. I'm not Single Sarah, Lonely Sarah, or Shitfaced Sarah (although sometimes it's looking that way.) Stories like the following explain why I'm Desperate Sarah.
Christopher: (answering door) You're popping in. I'm not a fan of the pop in.
Sarah: I didn't pop! I called you 2 days ago and again on my way over here! Here, let me reenact my message: 'Hey Christopher, it's Sarah. I hope your phone isn't broken...'
Christopher: It is.
Sarah: '...Anyways I just wanted to let you know I'm going to happy hour on Friday and I'm going to be having some drinks. I should be done a little after 8 and I thought I could come over. Give me a call if this is a problem for you.'
Christopher: Well I didn't check my messages.
Sarah: That's your fault. I didn't pop.
Then my phone rings. Off the effing hook. The 30 minutes I was there my phone rang no less than 6 times. He was trying to check his messages on my phone and it rang. I was looking incredibly popular, but I was also on the phone the entire time I was there. He told me when I first got there that he was going out with the guys, but I could hang until he had to leave. When I got off the last call, he began Turning off lamps and walking to the door. I thought it was time to leave and I had my things. At the door, he stops and said he was sorry we couldn't hang longer, but he was going out. I realized he wasn't walking out the door with me, he was just getting rid of me.
Sarah: Wait, you're not walking out with me?
Christopher: No, I'm leaving in like 20.
Sarah: I could wait with you.
Christopher: No, I'm going to walk.
Sarah: I could drive you.
Christopher: No, I'll call you tomorrow night when I'm done.
Sarah: (really obnoxiously) Really? You're gonna call?
Sarah: (still being obnoxious) What's my number?
Christopher: It's in my phone.
Sarah: Your phone is broken, Genius, how are you going to call me when you don't have my number?
Christopher: Here, write it down, I'll call you from Maddy's phone when we're done.
Sarah: (Totally not believing him) Okay.
The whole night didn't go well. There was a whole other portion of me asking if I could spend the night Saturday night because I was going out in the area and didn't want to drive home because I was clearly going to be intoxicated. He said he was going out with the guys again and would probably be out late. When I said I was probably going to be out equally as late, he responded that he didn't know what his plans were on Sunday. He was being a dick, which explains why I reacted when I did when he ushered me out the door.
I walk down the stairs of his building and I'm pissed. I'm so pissed. That did not go how I thought it would. I get to the bottom of the stairs and I angrily chuck my beer can into the bushes. I walk a few steps further and see and woman walking her dog in the same area and I almost hit her chihuahua with my half-full beer can.
I apologize profusely. Not only did I litter, but I almost assaulted her dog. I tell her I'll get it and ask her where it went. She pointed to the bushes and I crawl in them.
Woman: What was it?
Sarah: (Standing up in bushes) Anger. I don't know where it went. Is your dog okay?
Then she took a step back and realized that I was having boy problems. It was Friday night, I was dressed up, and I was tipping over from my happy hour buzz. I was looking pretty pathetic drunk and standing in some bushes. I knew it. I think she knew it too.
Woman: You know what? Forget about it. I've been there too.
Sarah: Are you sure?
Woman: Yeah. I know what it's like.
Sarah: I didn't mean to scare your dog. (The dog has been shaking and standing behind his mommy since I almost nailed it with my beer.)
Woman: It's okay. Hope your night gets better.
The next time I get all dreamy over Christopher, will someone please remind me of this moment and then immediately punch me in the left breast? Thanks in advance.
~Friday, March 03, 2006
I'm a bit sensitive towards friends of the guy I'm seeing. I was in a relationship once, a very serious one, but his friends from back home hated me. I'm a goody-goody with a propensity for beer drinking; they're worthless, lazy, waste-of-space druggies. I didn't like their environment and I didn't like my boyfriend at the time when he was in that environment. So every time we were with those friends, we'd fight. All his other friends loved me, and when we broke up, his fraternity became closer to me than him. He hated that and hated me for it. I loved it.
Anyways, those guys from back home hated me so much, they'd go out of their way and try to break us up. One time they drove and hour and a half to where my boyfriend and I lived and went to our neighborhood bars. The guys would introduce themselves to girls as my boyfriend and would give out our apartment phone number to the girls. I'd come home from work and listen to our answering machine and it was full of girls calling the guy they met at the bar the other night.
He never got mad at his friends for doing that, and when he finally broke up with me, he said it was because his friends from back home hated me. I realized then that you can never come between a guy and his friends, that, given the choice, he will always pick his friends over you.
I know that the automatic response to this is that I wouldn't want to be with a guy who would pick those douchebags over me anyways. And it's true, now, but that doesn't mean it didn't really hurt when I went through it.
I'm not used to people not liking me. I'm a very harmless person who will take a lot of shit from someone before I get upset. Like I said, I'm a goody-goody with a propensity for beer drinking. When I do do something stupid, people dismiss it saying, "Oh that's just Sarah, you know how she is." They'll laugh it off and then laugh at me for the next week.
Rebecca, I think, felt threatened by me. Her boyfriend and I got along very well and I got him drunk the first night I met him by sharing my flask with him. I thought I was careful to be respectful of her -- when he asked for my number to call me the next day to set me up with Christopher, I said he didn't need it, to just tell Rebecca to call me because she had my number.
This is why I don't have any girlfriends. You scorn one, not even intentionally, and she'll never forgive you for it. Rebecca didn't give me a chance to know that I'm harmless. Unbeknownst to me, a mutual friend sent her an e-mail on my behalf, reiterating that I was sorry and I didn't know what I did to make her not call me back, and saying she got to know me and that I really am a cool person. She got no response either. Christopher also told me once that he would do some damage control, but I've been afraid to follow through on that and ask him what happened.
To be honest, after all of this drama, I really don't want to be friends with her anyway, but I would like it if I wasn't ostracized anymore. She is Christopher's best friend's girlfriend. She hates me, so Maddy can't like me by approximation. Rebecca lives with Maddy's sister, who is dating another mutual friend of Maddy and Christopher, so they can't like me by approximation either. Freaking incestuous circle. All these people on Rebecca's "side" could prevent Christopher and I from taking off even before we start, although I don't think he is a person to dismiss someone based on his friends. He'll just keep doing what he's currently doing, keeping these two worlds separate. But for a relationship to work, we'll have to eventually circulate with each other. I even think if he put his foot down, Maddy and Rebecca would give me another chance. It all depends on whether Christopher likes me enough to do that.
~Thursday, March 02, 2006
Saturday night Christopher went to a party thrown by Maddy and Rebecca. He called me afterwards, drunk as a skunk, to hang out.
I knew if I was going to be cool about the whole Rebecca falling out, then I would just keep my mouth shut about the whole thing. Hours passed and I slowly began obsessing over it. I always take him to parties I'm invited to, and I actually know most of the people there and yet he didn't invite me. Last time I checked, he hadn't told Maddy that he was hanging out with me, and in the spirit of seeing where things are going, I was curious to see if that had changed.
'Be cool. Be cool. Be cool,' I kept telling myself all night. It became a mantra.
I knew if I was to say something, now would be the time because he was so tanked, he probably wouldn't remember me getting all girlie on him. But I kept pushing it down.
The next morning it slipped out.
"Have you told your friends about me?"
"What about you?"
"Me!" I said in a silly voice, hoping if I said it cute enough, I wouldn't have to directly answer that question.
"Me!" (This is clearly not working. Damn him.)
He laughed. "What about?" (Hmm, I wonder if he's interrogating me as well.)
"That we're... uh... we're..." Stalling clearly wasn't working either. Suddenly I got trapped into defining our relationship, "Hanging out," I finished lamely.
"They're aware of you."
'They're aware of you?' What kind of clinical answer is that?!?!? I am aware of the AIDs epidemic in Africa. I am aware that if I feed my father's dog table scraps, she'll fart all night. I am not aware of how to take this as a response.
Way to be vague there, buddy.
My back was to him, so he couldn't see my mouth just hanging open at the crap response I got.
He continued, "Well Maddy is anyways. I haven't said anything to Rebecca yet, so she may not know."
She's Maddy's girlfriend, of course he probably told her. Unless I'm such a sore subject, that he hasn't. This isn't getting me anywhere. Why wasn't I invited? Because Rebecca just hates me that much? Because no one knows about me? Because Christopher didn't want to take me?
I don't know which reason is worse. If I am forbidden by Rebecca to be in their holy sober presence, then Christopher and I don't have much of a chance because his friends hate me. If Christopher hasn't told anyone about me, then I'm some slutty dirty secret. Nothing here to give me the warm fuzzies.
To make it worse, I defined us and copped out on it. If he thought more of us, then I just gave him a reason not to. In the movie "Rainmaker," Matt Damon has a line to the effect of "Every time there is a murder, the killer makes 32 mistakes. 32 clues left behind; 32 chances to get caught."
This is my dating life. Monday through Wednesday, I feel good. Thursday, all 32 mistakes I made glare back at me. 32 reasons why I can't do anything right; 32 reasons why I don't deserve to be in a relationship.