"I feel like I could corrupt you," I said to Date #6 as I took a swig of my beer.
~Tuesday, November 30, 2010
"I feel like I could corrupt you," I said to Date #6 as I took a swig of my beer.
~Tuesday, November 23, 2010
- I am a child of divorce, so Thanksgiving usually means I'm in the car and crossing the state so I can eat with both my mother and my father's family. There's no stability, no relaxing, no football and no beer.
- I'm forced to spend time with my extended family, but it's not a religious holiday, so no one is on good behavior. The last several Thanksgivings at my father's house, I have shed tears because I have felt attacked over financial, political and sociological differences.
- On a related note, sometimes my siblings can be assholes. I'll never forget the moment when I came home for Thanksgiving in college with several copies of the newspaper I was writing for and distributed my article to the relatives. My brother read it and said, "I guess news writing is different than real writing." Asshole!
- My grandmother has been terminally ill for the last year, which means I haven't seen my mother for any holiday, including Thanksgivings.
~Monday, November 22, 2010
~Tuesday, November 16, 2010
In between my dates with The Hungarian, I spent time lunching with Schmoozer which turned into a happy hour invite.
I sent Katie a text message: Hope you look cute today because Schmoozer will be joining us at happy hour!
She sent back: Hope you look cute! It's your invitation he accepted.
We're just friends.
I've been careful around Katie, because I know she abides by strict girl code. She won't date anybody her friends like and she won't date anybody her friends have dated. And just in case Schmoozer does have feelings for her, I don't want to be the cock block. I date. I get around; Katie does not. If I've learned anything from eHarmony, it's that next week will bring another guy for me to get excited about. I don't need them all.
At lunch on Friday, I told Schmoozer that I felt bad for this one mysterious guy who showed up on our team, acted all weird, and disappeared. Joining a league is an avenue for meeting new people, regardless of the motivation, and I felt bad for this guy who got nothing out of the league. I said I wished I tried harder to connect with him.
"Don't feel bad for him," Schmoozer told me. "People make their own experiences."
And I think that encapsulates why Schmoozer and I get along so well. I always write how easy it is to talk to him and I think it's because we are both extroverts. Maybe his attention isn't an overture towards me. Maybe it's just we're both people who venture out of our comfort zones. That's how we found each other.
Happy hour was the first time Schmoozer really sat down and got to know my group of friends. And he made the most of his experience. The table took turns sharing our adventures with him, each story providing insight to each of our personalities. He drank up the stories as quickly as we drank our beers.
Happy hour lasted seven hours. Everyone got drunk. Harvey, Katie and me did the obligatory go into the bathroom to pee and stay there 45 minutes sharing secrets. Harvey again iterated that she's having a baby within the year and we need to get on it. I told Harvey about my week spent trying to be like her.
"Bullshit. I wouldn't have called Christopher," she said. "Turn around and look in the mirror." I did as much. "Now tell me what you like about yourself."
"I... I... I like my bangs," I said.
"Good! I love your bangs!"
"I like that I make new friends easily. Did you know I was invited to our opposing kickball team's Facebook group?"
"You were the only one to branch out!"
Katie leaves the stall and sits on the bathroom counter. And then she admitted some secrets that aren't mine to disclose. Suffice it to say that all those times I've felt like an outsider in the group, she's felt that way too, just for the exact opposite reasons. All those times I talked about dating and sex and feeling like something was wrong with me for wanting those things when no one else talked about them, she felt like an outsider because she doesn't have any stories about dating or sex... and she wants those stories.
"It used to be that I was heavy and that's what I blamed for not dating. Now that I lost the weight, I have no one to blame but myself."
There was more discussion that led to holding hands and hugging and declaring that the three of us were each others best friends. Nothing out of the ordinary for an alcohol-fueled night. Meanwhile, Schmoozer sent me a very eloquent text message from outside the ladies' room: Shit or get off the pot.
We rejoined the group. Schmoozer put his arm around my waist. "What were you doing in there? The waitress said you were probably declaring each other best friends."
"We were! We were!"
We ordered another pitcher of beer, but somehow our glasses were cleared away during our epic bathroom trip. Katie picked up the pitcher and began drinking from that. Schmoozer noticed and sat beside her. It was the first time they have ever spoken to each other.
Harvey nudged me. "You know, I don't think Schmoozer knows what he wants. I think he wants both of you."
The rest of the night continued the same. Schmoozer would sit beside one of us and then trade every 10 or so minutes. Until Katie disappeared. And then a few minutes after that Harvey disappeared.
I walk into the bathroom. Harvey was sitting outside a stall with her back against a wall and her legs spread out in front of her. In her hand was her iPhone and she was casually scrolling through Facebook like this was the most natural thing to do on the floor of a bar bathroom at midnight on a Friday night. She raised an eyebrow at me. I waved and headed in another stall.
I sat down. On the ground in the stall next to me was a Katie-shaped body slumped against a toilet.
"Hey! It's Katie!" I cooed as I reached my hand under the wall and tickled her thigh. She didn't move. Apparently Katie drank so much that she had been sick and was passed out. Katie drinks more frequently and in higher volumes than I do, and Katie was the only one of us that ate dinner at the bar. I tried to think why this had happened.
Just like Harvey knows I'm beautiful and fabulous, I know that Katie is beautiful and fabulous. I just assumed I was the only one who has a hard time seeing it in herself, because up until the previous trip to the bathroom, I was the only one that talked about it. I thought Katie knew how desired she was because it seems like every guy I date or show interest in (see: Christopher, 5k Guy and Schmoozer) expresses interest in her instead. I never considered for a second that she didn't see the things that everyone else saw. She seems so much more in control than me.
The moral of the story is that everyone has their own problems. I get that intellectually. But actually learning about these girls I love so much helps me understand it on a better level.
Harvey's husband came in the girl's bathroom and picked up Katie and carried her to his car. She spent the night cuddled up on the floor of Harvey's guest bathroom. And I decided to leave Schmoozer alone for good.
There will always be next week and another guy.
Love, Sarah at 3:04 PM|
~Monday, November 15, 2010
The Hungarian, perhaps the most traveled and well cultured person I know, chose a Mexican restaurant for our second date. I scrunched up my nose, grateful he couldn't see my face in the darkness of his car. Mexican food is pretty bottom of the barrel in my opinion. It's always some corn product stuffed with shredded meat and topped with tomato or cheese sauce. I have never had a Mexican meal and declared afterward "Ooh that was good!" Mexican is filling, not good. And this man who has probably tasted every cuisine in its natural habitat chose Mexican. Blech.
The morning after our first date, I arrived to work a half hour early because I couldn't sleep. I was that disappointed with myself for making out with the hot, bad boy. And when I regaled my coworkers with the story of our date, they scrunched their noses exactly like I had done when I heard I was eating Mexican.
"Could it have been nerves?" my boss asked.
I paused and gave her question some thought. "I mean, it's possible. He was very self deprecating of himself after he saw how bristled I became."
"Could he have been creating a bit when he was teasing you?"
"If it was a bit, it failed miserably."
The Hungarian had texted me the same morning. He was confirming our date for Saturday. He tried to tease me again and I texted back that I would not go out with him if it was going to be at my expense.
Then he gave me a proper invite and I accepted. Then morning of our date, he texted me his address. And when I didn't respond, he called a couple of hours later to confirm yet again.
Back in the car, The Hungarian flipped through his mp3's. "There might be a wait tonight. It's a popular restaurant."
I asked him if we were going to the only Mexican restaurant I could stand. That's because it's really Americanized Tex Mex and not true Mexican food. He said it was the restaurant I was thinking of. I cheered and clapped.
"Ah, she is happy," he said.
At the dinner table I reached in my Kate Spade evening bag and pulled out a pink post-it note. "I called my father," I began.
"Oh no. I am not going to say a word. You got so angry last time that I am just going to sit here."
I pushed the post-it across the table towards him. I don't know German and I didn't want to mispronounce anything in front of him. "Here is the town in Austria my father says my family is from."
He inspected the paper and pulled out his iPhone. He typed in the town name. "Heh," he said. "It really is on the Austrian/Hungarian border." He flipped his phone towards me so I could see. "Here is Budapest. Here is the city the where I am from. And here is your town. It's about two hours from where I grew up."
This is the moment where I should have smiled demurely. "Eat your words, [Hungarian]!" I smirked.
He picked up the post-it from the table and brought it to his nose. He inhaled and fluttered his eyes, as if it were scented. Then he tucked it inside his wallet.
After dinner, he asked if I wanted to go back to his house and have a mug of tea and watch a movie.
"Never go to the second location," I automatically responded.
"I do not know what that means?"
"Oh, just on Oprah, when you're abducted it's safer to escape at the point of abduction. It's when they get you to the second location, that's where you're in danger of being killed."
But I went to the second location. His house was immaculate. I doubt there was a misplaced crumb. "Shoes off," he instructed.
"What?" I asked.
"No shoes in the house."
All of a sudden I felt like Carrie Bradshaw. I stuck out my lower lip. "Have you seen my outfit?" I asked defiantly. "It does not work without my boots." I was wearing this skimpy, little dress with my new knee highs. It was the boots that were keeping me from revealing too much. And they were keeping me warm. Without my boots, I was just a girl in a skimpy, little dress.
"Boots off!" he repeated. He lit a fire in the fireplace and put in a movie. I always said that Come over and watch a movie was international code for sex. This theory had just been confirmed. It wasn't long before we were making out again.
The Hungarian is handsy. I kept brushing away his advances.
"Your knees are so tight they could crush bones," he remarked.
"Yes, your bone."
"I think I am too agile for you," he said.
"Handsy," he said, using my word. I laughed.
"I just need an emotional connection before I can do anything physically," I explained.
"It's like the chicken and the egg," he said. "Who's to say which one comes first? I think the emotional and physical come together."
"But the chicken and the egg—there is no right answer," I remarked.
"No, it means I am right," he chuckled. "If I was just in this for notches in my belt, I would have asked you to leave. But I didn't. I am older now. I'm attracted to you physically and emotionally. Unfortunately for you, all of my attention is on you," he grinned.
The Hungarian never did get past second base that night. I was tucked in my own bed by midnight. As I was leaving, he told me he was heading to Montreal for business, but that he would be back by Thursday and wanted to see me then. I like that he asks for the next date as the current one is ending, but I'm still wary of him. He didn't say anything adverse to me that night and appeared reformed with teasing me. But I can't gauge yet how calculating he is.
~Friday, November 12, 2010
I feel dirty.
Two dates in two days at the same cafe. I even wore the same outfit.
After I finished my rant about expats and traveling yesterday, last night I met... another expat who just returned from holiday in Vienna. This one was Hungarian and his accent was instantly detectable. He was also 10 years my senior and smoking hot.
I was 20 minutes late and I couldn't find parking, so by the time I scampered into the cafe, I was flustered. He was sitting alone at a table in the corner with two glasses of water in front of him. I did a check around the bar to make sure he was the only single male and that he was indeed my date.
~Thursday, November 11, 2010
~Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Love, Sarah at 10:46 AM|
~Monday, November 08, 2010
Love, Sarah at 11:37 AM|