By Special Request

Happy Halloween to all the countries that don't celebrate it like we do in the States. It's the one day a year girls dress up slutty and the boys wear wigs and hookups happen faster than a Christian in Afghanistan.

It's the single person's Valentine's Day, after all, so I'm a very happy girl.

Drunk Truths

I pushed a pillow on his lap and laid down. I didn't do it to be closer to him, instead I was getting tired. It was 3:30 in the morning and the party was winding down. He absentmindedly ran his hand down my head. By this time I removed the bunny ears and fixed the hair since the kissing bandit a few hours earlier.

He asks, "Can I tell you something? Drunk truth?"

"Drunk truth."

"I don't believe in True Love. I think we have to do the best we can."

"True Love as in soul mates?"

"Yeah."

"Oh I agree," I said too quickly. I thought about all the reasons I believe that, "You've been hurt."

"How can you tell?"

"I guess I'm good at noticing that sort of thing."

We sat there for a minute, both lost in our own heads.

"You want my drunk truth?" I asked.

"Sure."

"I don't believe men hurt as much as women do. I don't think your hearts break like ours."

"Judging on the Bell Curve, I'd say you're right."

We were silent again. It felt good to vocalize what we've been thinking and hiding for years.

We're over. I'm fine with that. I accept that. Matter of fact, I'm a proponent for that. Our relationship was one big bang followed by a slow but steady decline. I know that you and I are better friends than lovers.

So when you asked me how my speed date went, I gave you the honest truth. I told you that the men looked at me like I had a contagious skin disease. I told you I wanted just one yes, even if it was from the really really boring guy, to prove that I'm not a boy-pariah. I admitted these things to you because those are the things I would tell a friend, but hide from a lover.

But your actions confuse me. The response you gave me was really great, but there was something dismissive about the remark you made towards my potential dates.

And then there's the blog-stalking. I told you I didn't want you reading my blog, but you searched for it and found it anyway. I knew that. I knew that before things were over. You used to log on about once every four days and only to read posts that pertained to you, but that has changed since the breakup. You check my blog every day from your home computer, work computer, school lap top, and, today, from your cell phone. Why are you giving me more attention now that we're over?

Why are you all of a sudden hanging on every word of mine? Are you just curious? Am I just that good of a writer? That funny?

Are you jealous?

Were you out with her when you checked my blog on your cell phone? (You know I hated it when you checked your football scores on your phone while you were out with me. We used to laugh about it.)

I don't blame you for it. I know you don't know about site trackers and how I can see everything. I don't think you would check it as often if you knew that.

But here's the thing: I come home from mediocre dates and log onto my computer to find out you've been at my site. Again. And, at the very least, you've been thinking about me. It confuses me. It makes me wonder what you're thinking about me, and why you're thinking about me.

It makes me miss you.

And these mediocre dates are only confirming that maybe I liked you a little more than I let on.

And I'm scared because I still keep your e-mails.

I cried to let you go; I didn't cry for you. I'm scared that if things keep going the way they are, one of these days you might win some tears of mine. And it is a strict policy of mine to never cry for a boy.

But you don't have access to this diary, so you'll never know that I'm thinking about you right now. And even though you think you know everything there is about me (and obviously you like it because you keep coming back), you'll never know about this place. You'll never have the whole truth.

That maybe I liked you a little more than I let on.

And I'm scared.

A Halloween Post

I've always wanted to be had. Just taken in a moment of passion. Don't be shy, just push me up against the wall and kiss me.

So when it happened last night, I should have been excited. Instead I thought, Dude, you messed up my pony tail.

And now my bunny ears are skewed.

Speed Dating, Schmeed Dathignrrrrrrrr

The speed date was at such an awkward time that I didn't have time for dinner beforehand. I also didn't have time to go home and go back out to the bar, so I brought everything I needed with me and stood in my work bathroom applying deodorant and using in the curling iron while enduring strange looks from other women passing in and out.

It didn't cross my mind that I was going to Midtown and that I would need cash for parking, so I ended up parking along a shady street (and by shady, I'm not talking about leaf coverage) and hiking a few blocks to my destination.

And I was the first person there. Sometimes I really hate my punctuality.

I soon met Claire and Claire-- two women in their thirties who do everything together, including hunting for men. This was not their first speed date. As they talked about the events they attend in town, I realized I was speaking to my and E's future selves in about 10 years. And we had gotten uglier and lost a bit of our fashion sense judging from one of the Claire's pink plastic poodle purse.

I ordered my first drink of the night, a traditional martini with three olives, and laughed watching the others file in. Girls to the right of me and boys to the left: we were as segregated as a middle school dance. The coordinator sighed and said that some of the men were running late, so we wouldn't be beginning on time. I leaned to the girl next to me and joked about how we already could tell punctuality is none of their strong suits. She laughed. We leaned into the bar to order another round of drinks.

We introduced ourselves and decided that we would hang out with each other, since neither one of us brought a friend. She was the straight-haired version of me. We worked within a mile from each other and laughed at how we both ogle the same waiter at our mutual favorite lunch taqueria. We exchanged business cards so we could keep in touch.

The coordinator blew her whistle (Oh my god, a whistle!?) and my new friend and I headed to a table to let the speed dating begin. I grabbed one more drink to take with me.

The bar was kind of dark-- it made me nervous that I wouldn't be able to notice things like third eyes and hairy moles and disfiguring facial scars.

The first three men were nice and the four minutes we got to talk seemed to fly by. I wrote down their ID numbers and drew smiley faces by them.

Man #4 comes.

"So how old are you, #4?"
"Why do you want to know?"
"Just asking a question here. Nothing behind it."
"Guess."
"I'm terrible at guessing!"
"Guess!"
"32."
...
"See, I told you I was bad at that sort of thing!"
"No, I'm 32."
"So what's the problem?"
"People usually tell me 26."

Whistle! Thank God. I stopped asking ages after that.

Man #5: I spill half my drink down the curtain behind me.

Man #6:

He asks, "So have you done speed dating before?"
"No, and I'm relieved that everyone looks so normal!"
"Well, what do you mean by that?"
"Like no one is missing an appendage or in a wheelchair."
"...Do you have a problem with people in wheelchairs?"
...

Whistle! Oh christ, I do believe I'm getting drunk. Normally three drinks do nothing for me, but I had to skip dinner.

Man #7:

"You're hot, so why are you doing speed dating?" I slur while touching his knee.
(I have no idea what he says because I'm realizing just how drunk I'm getting.)
"Why are you doing speed dating?" he asks in return.
"I need a date for my office Christmas party."

Yup, I am very drunk.

Man #7 gets up from the table and goes to sit with my new friend. I lean into her and say loudly enough for him to hear, "Don't talk to that guy. He's a total douchebag."

She laughs. He becomes very wide-eyed.

He looks at the girl and asks, "Do you two know each other?"
"We just met."

Man #8 is a dentist.

"So is it true you can brush your teeth too hard?"
"Yup."
"Have you gotten any other dental questions tonight?"
"Nope."

Man #9 and Man #10 and I have nothing in common, so we sit there in silence and stare at each other. Then with Man #10 I remembered a promise I made at work that day.

"Do you live with your parents?"

I have no idea what Man #11 said to me because I was too busy concentrating.

Oh my god, I am so so so drunk. I wonder if he can tell. You know how people's eyes do that weird thing when they're wasted? I wonder if he can see my eyes do that. Does he know I'm tanked? He has to know. I can't remember the last time I was this drunk. I am full-on shitfaced. I can usually hold my liquor, what happened? Oh god, I don't feel well. I think I'm going to puke. Please don't let me puke on this guy. Oh, I'm getting lightheaded like I do before I puke. Oh shit, I'm going to puke. Steady. Steady. I think I'll make it...

I had a four minute break and I ran into the bathroom and shoved my finger down my throat. I retched a few times, but it turns out it was all mental. A girl walks into the bathroom.

"Oh my god, we totally have to like go hit the bars after this and meet men."

"Ok." I had no intentions of ever seeing her again.

At my table I fish the olives out of the bottom of the glass and eat them, hoping they would count as dinner.

I have no memory of the last two guys.

I go and pay my tab. The coordinator comes up to me, "Are you okay? Should I call you a cab?"

So that answers my question if people could tell I was drunk.

"No I'll be fine. I just live three streets over. I can walk."

I walk back to my table and grab my things. I try to pick up my scorecard but it had glued itself to the table when I spilled my drink 8 men ago. I try and pry it off, but I only got the last page. The rest is still attached.

The coordinator had followed me. "Oh don't worry about that. The bartender can get that up."

What else can go wrong tonight?

I walk home and with a final punctuation of the night, I finally get sick. At 9:30 on a Wednesday. All over the call box in front of my building. With witnesses. I know buildings have cameras on the call boxes, so I'm pretty sure that moment is now on tape somewhere.

I buzz myself in. I have no idea if I let the dog out to pee or not. But I learned that I did make myself a pot of noodles when I woke up on my couch at 4:20 in the morning with all the lights on and the now cold noodles on the stove. I set the pot on the floor for the dog and realized I didn't remember the night at all.

The next morning at work (and after the aspirin was popped) I pull out my scorecard to enter in the website. I couldn't read my own handwriting. Not only that, but I couldn't read my own smiley faces. N had to sit with me to help me decipher.

"That's a happy face turned frowney face."
"Ok. We'll go ahead and assume that's a no."
"That's a straight line. I'm not sure what that means."
"Oh I did that for the ones I could take or leave. I think."
"That is a half smiley face/ half straight line. What the hell were you drinking?"
"Gin martinis. They're new to me, so my tolerance isn't all there."

I ended up checking off 5 yeses and 8 nos from what we could determine. But I was absolutely certain that I would be getting turned down by 13 men in one night and it could in fact be my most humbling moment. Ever.

Afterthoughts

Hi Sarah,

I wouldn't disappear off the face of the earth - especially not with you! ;-)

I was serious about maintaining a friendship... it is a typical thing to say, but I do actually mean it this time, lol! I really do like you as well and you have a sense of humor that is totally to my liking.

I would like to still read the books - I will take care of them - anytime you want them back, just say so. I will probably be able to bust through them after finals in early December (scary thing is that that isn't very far away).

Good luck tonight, can't wait to hear about that!!

Adam

It was the e-mail that broke my crying ban. I didn't even realize that I was crying until the paper towel I keep at my desk for spills was soaked completely through. I wasn't hurt or disappointed that things were officially over, if anything I was relieved. Finally I wouldn't have to worry or stress over him anymore. He had a friendship that turned into something more over the weekend and they decided to give the relationship a chance. Sounds like something that happens only in movies, how could I not root for it?

It's funny how with the breakup, I can be honest for the first time. I had never said to Adam that I liked him before my response. It's understood when you're holding hands and kissing in the park, but I wasn't able to actually verbalize it until then. Adam had never really verbalized it before either. Sure there were "You're cute" and "You're a smart girl" tucked in e-mails, but the boy never said "I really like you" until now.

It was over and I felt relieved and eerily calm. I guess the tears were a release-- I was letting go of everything. I couldn't be upset with him; he was a nice break from reality. In the last year, he was the only man to take me out on proper dates. If anything, he taught me what I should expect and hold out for.

No, I couldn't be upset with him.

I stuck a thumb under each eye and wiped the last of the tears away, careful not to smear my makeup. I had 15 dates that night to prepare for.

Adam,

I completely understand where you're coming from and I wish the best for the both of you. Seriously, I do. I also really appreciate you taking the time to tell me instead of disappearing off the face of the earth.

I've known for quite awhile that things weren't working for us like they had been previously. One of the reasons I kept in contact with you though is because I genuinely like you as a person. I hope you were sincere when you expressed you wanted to remain friends because I would enjoy that as well.

Hold onto my books for now, if you still want to read them. I'm not in any hurry to get them back, although I would like to see them again eventually. Since it sounds like you've got so much going on right now, I'll wait for you to contact me if you were serious about the friends thing.

I actually have speed dating tonight, so wish me luck on that!

Sarah