Oh Terrible Saturday

Today is the day I realized something is WRONG.  I’m such a sensitive ball of indecision and self-questioning these days I can’t move forward on anything.  I got a “I’m erasing your contact info” email from this girl I hooked up with recently.  Because I’m “not into communicating.”  Nicely done, psycho.

What happened there?  Well it’s actually a pretty funny story if you’re on the outside of it.  Here we go:

So I have a friendquaintance™ who works in my industry.  Did I tell this story already? Who cares, you’re gonna read it again.  My part of the business usually pays for his part, so he got his bosses to let him take me to lunch.  After a couple of weeks of rescheduling and dancing around actually doing it, we met up one Friday afternoon at a really interesting old “nice” restaurant near Union Square.  It’s apparently famous for being the “first” “fine dining” “restaurant” to “allow” it’s customers to dress casually.  Note the quotes?  I love sarcasm. I love irony. Do whatever you want with the implications of those quotes.

So during lunch he asks me if I’m going to this party he’d heard one of our mutual friendquaintances was throwing at her apartment.  I responded, “Why of course not, I only ever hear about those parties AFTER they happen.  And by ‘hear about’ I mean ‘see the amazing fun in picture form on facebook’.”  He apologized sheepishly and confessed to also not really being invited.  Seems he had run into this girl randomly a few days before and she had mentioned a party, with few details.

So I returned to work, determined to find out about and actually attend this party.  Because I’m a newly super social amazingly positive guy now.  I really amn’t.  How did I accomplish my mission?  Well through a combination of subterfuge and direct confrontation, of course.  I gchatted a friend I knew would most certainly have been invited to this shindig, if it existed, and asked him if he was “going to the party.”  He was like, “yes, of course, are you?” To which I appropriately replied, “HAHAHA I fooled you! I didn’t even know for sure there WAS a party!!!”

Wow my stories are long.  We haven’t even gotten to the girl yet, have we?  Ok,  I met her at this party.  A few weeks later we met up for drinks, and it was great but also weird.  She kept freaking out at random moments.  I noticed that the freak-out was generally at the same time as I was making gestures of affection.  Like with my hands. You know. Gestures. Anyway she would tense up, back away and actually express that she was suddenly freaked out.  She would go on to say that she knew it was weird to freak out and that she apologized and it would pass.  I would later find out that at those moments I had done something to make her think that I was gay.  As in homosexual.  Never mind that she took me home that night (no sex).

All this she confessed the next time we met.  We had drinks, she told me she wasn’t sure I was straight, and that night i went home alone because come on.  A guy can only take it up the ass so often, right?  Anyway, we still made out a little, but the cracks were there in the newly molded relationship.  Big cracks with red flags peeping out.  I don’t think I’m cut out to be with the type of girl who interprets a guy brushing hair out of her face as a declaration of gayness.  It’s affection, for fuck’s sake.

Fast forward to having sex at my place.  That night we had gotten drinks, and then food, and then despite my protests of a super seriously tense workday and my insisting that I would be really stressed out all night, she guilted me into going to her place.  And then when I just couldn’t relax, we went to my place.  We got there super late, and I was super nervous about not getting enough sleep.  But of course at that stage of a relationship, a guy is expected to only think and feel with his dick.  We all know this.  We all know that sometimes it’s just not going to happen, though.  Am I strange? I’m an adult with a heavy dose of being rational, I was crazy tired, feeling a little pressured to perform, and all I could think about was how unprepared I was for the deadline looming the next day.  So. We made out, we went to bed, we had sex, it was bland and I was not super into it.  I stopped.  We made out a little and then she was like “I want to do it again.”  I took a deep look inside me and decided I didn’t have it in me to get it up again with the current level of weirdness between us, her lack of wiggliness and aversion to the expression of passion (at one point she told me I was making too much noise… real turn-on), and my intensely tired state (it was now 2:30).  I said, sorry, I can’t.  She said, “Oh my god you really ARE gay!”  To the naked man with his arms around her in bed, post sex.  Really good move.

And now I’m the asshole.  She just emailed me to tell me she’s deleting my contact info and she has unfriended me on facebook.  There was more weirdness that sort of pushed me away in the days following the sex debacle, but the point is I’ve been ignoring her.

The point is today sucks.  Saturday.  My day to unwind.  Instead I’m getting dumped AGAIN and staring at the computer.  Not eating.  Not cleaning.  Not writing (this doesn’t count).  Not calling this freelance gig back. GUH.  Something’s wrong!

The Most Boring Post

So I was fucking around with the new mint ipad app, of which I am incidentally a big fan, yesterday.  It’s not super self explanatory beyond the data it shows you up front (mainly in the form of a pie chart of this month’s current spending trends), but I swiped a little just to see if anything would happen.  And it landed me on a page that super confirmed what I had feared all along.  Ever since special lady friend left me, I’ve been spending more money than I’ve earned.  So I got this chart with red all over it.  Kinda scary actually, because I don’t know what to cut.  All my spending seems to be semi-necessary impulse stuff (like train tickets in Italy or taxis home from the city at 3AM).  So today’s fun-tivity will be coming up with a plan of attack.  Maybe I’ll even write a post here on what I come up with.  Maybe not.  Probably not.  Who am I kidding, this is my last post ever.

Something for your Christmas spirit: Father Christmas – The Kinks

Too Much Too Soon

First order of business:  In the coming weeks (ok, probably this weekend) I will be experimenting with converting this site to a wordpress dealie.  Currently I use Rapidweaver, which is this super cheap but pretty flexible template-based web design program that gets bundled into those MacHeist/MacUpdate things with the 10 pretty good shareware programs for the price of one… blah blah blah highly recommended but.  Going to hope I don’t fuck this blog up for too long. The point is to be able to update during the day from the web.
Just got back from Los Angeles where I, among other things, met this super beguiling siren:

Of course when I was introduced to her I had no idea she was this indie darling.  Wouldn’t have mattered.  She was that charming kind of spacey that guys like me wish they could fall into completely, but know our cynicism would ruin it after like a week.  We talked (in a group) about how she hates babies but loves kids, and that none of the seances she’s been involved in have ever featured levitation.  I’m not spelling out her name here because it feels weird spilling the contents of that dinner even a little bit.  But I’ll hint and say the dinner involved some other semi famous yet warm and wonderful people, and I wish I was back there sharing Thai food right now.

OK.  Now. The love life. Blah blah summer fling girl says one thing, does a different thing then manages to twist everything in such a way as to keep me from having a solid, describable basis for being upset, and by the way no more sex. Waah wwaahhh waahhhhh!! She called me at work the other day livid, with a catch in her throat that told me she was hurting, too.  Seems some prick she knows had made some fucked up comment about us having sex and she decided to direct all of the rage and helplessness that stirred up in her at me.  She said I betrayed her to my coworkers by telling them about us.  I don’t think that’s true, but whatever.  I reacted poorly, shutting down and forgetting everything I might have said to defend myself or make her feel better.  She hung up on me.  Some dude called me a couple nights later from her phone at about 1:45AM.  I hung up on him.  It turned out that was someone who found her phone supposedly lost in a taxi.  Who cares?  Now she wants to talk shit out so we get along at the holiday party and the fucking company fucking ski trip we’re all going to be at.  I ask you again, who cares?  I’m not going to play the game with her anymore.  YAY!

On another note:  Met/dated three really great women recently, all over 30, thank god.  There’s three of them, which sucks.  I know the inevitable “you mean you’re dating someone else?” thing may come up.  I don’t know, I’ve never dated multiple 30+ year olds at once, so they may be more realistic than I expect.  And let me clarify, we’re talking first dates, not fucking marriage and trips upstate.  But I think it’s time to stop apologizing for looking for love.  At the same time it’s probable that none of these girls are right for me anyway.  None of them ever may be.

This is fun: