Posts Tagged ‘weekend’

like a fish needs a bicycle.

June 1, 2010

I never really intended for this to be a blog about my love life or a “Sex and the City-esque” retelling of my weekends.  But i suppose that is somehow what it is becoming.  I always said that I would simply write about what was on my mind, without holding anything back, so I guess this says something about my priorities right now.

It’s been four days since I’ve heard from the boy with the crooked smile.  I’m here practically sitting on my hands to prevent myself from texting him.

I won’t do it.

I refuse.

Instead, I’m making up excuses for the reasons why he was possibly too busy to do so all weekend long and willing my phone to light up any second now.

Maybe he was tragically killed while pushing a small child out of the path of a moving bus.  Or maybe he was stricken with horrible food poisoning and spent the last 3 days in the hospital.  Or maybe he is just so gosh darn into me (duh) that he is waiting even LONGER than the obligatory three days so that he doesn’t seem over-eager and blow it?

…or maybe I am certifiably insane and it is completely and utterly clear that he is “just not that into me”.

Sigh.

So now I guess I just pick myself up, dust myself off, and start reminding myself that I’m awesome and amazing and totally fine alone.  Hell, I even put my AC unit in without any help!

I don’t need no stinkin’ man,

Q

dazed and confused.

May 24, 2010

This weekend went far too fast in a drunken sleep deprived haze.  I had a few too many beers and a few too many snoring boys in my bed (more on this later).  But all in all, I would call it a success.

I have decided that I may need to find a new “home base” bar.  Or at least lay low for a while.  It’s not so fun when the bartenders question and judge your dates (“Really, THAT guy?”) or attempt to step in while a cute guy is chatting you up (“You ok? this guy bother you?”).

Im FINE. Really.

But now, even worse, the middle age owner has gotten my telephone number and is very very very creepy.  I don’t know what I would expect the owner of a bar such as the one I frequent to be like.  But I don’t think I would expect him to text me at 9:00 in the morning about how he was going to do some, ahem, “things” while thinking of me.

How is one supposed to respond to that?

Um… Thanks?

A friend of mine wrote a pretty great article about women and sex that I just absolutely love.  Right on, sister friend!

Some things I just don’t need to know,

Q