Man X.

Just to be clear, Man X is nothing like the super cool genetically enhanced X-Men and his only super power seems to be the inability to get the hint.

As a refresher, Man X was the man-who-asked-for-my-number-on-street several weeks back. Since then he’s been texting here and there asking for a date. Paraphrasing would not do this justice, so for your viewing pleasure, here’s the highlights:

Clearly, I’m the bitch here by not feeding into his enthusiasm. But, to be fair, I know nothing about this guy except for his first name and I have had more than one friend try to scare me away from talking to him entirely. I mean, for all I know he’s a crazy serial killer! Clearly he’s trying to be cute and “surprise” me with some fantastic date, but honestly, I wanted a plan with an easy out. So, this happened:

I didn’t have plans, but I wanted a good excuse to leave incase things got weird and a good reason to pry about what the date would be. I personally hate small talk and I am really super awkward around people I don’t know, so I’m not too sure how a date with a guy I don’t know at all would play out. I’ve met some pretty significantly weird guys in my life and I did not want to potentially sacrifice an entire Saturday night for one. Also, I really didn’t appreciate his assuming I was free Saturday night and lack of bothering to ask if I had plans. I do [sometimes] have a life, you know.

The next few texts include him saying we should go out another time, that if I already have plans we will reschedule. I suggested we meet for a few hours for a drink or something and he declined. He told me to “Open an evening in your schedule and let me know.”

“To be honest, if we’re gonna do this, I just kind of want a set plan and nothing too crazy. It’s just I don’t know you at all and it makes me nervous,”  I finally said. There – is that straightforward enough for you?

He proceeded by telling me that I’m a “bright girl” and that this is a quality he likes about me. This was followed by the plan for our supposed date. It all sounded nice, but it was a trifecta of a date including a stroll around the park, drinks and dancing in one part of town, and a comedy show in another. I must admit, as much as I love commitment (I truly am a relationship type), I also hate commitment. I don’t like plans and I don’t like being tied into things. My friends and I often joke about not using the “P” word (plans, if that wasn’t obvious). A three part date made me feel trapped. Why can’t we simply meet for a drink? Or coffee? I know he’s just trying to be nice, but I don’t feel safe about it.

But I have a good three hours to spend with you and I clearly am trying to avoid your date. GET THE HINT.

He texted again this morning and wants to go out Thursday night, but I have yet to respond. He seems too pushy, unable to compromise. Or am I just reading too far into this?

 

I promised myself I’d go on a date; it’s one of the rules. But I just might chicken out. I’m just not all that interested.

– – –

On an unrelated note, if you’re interested in the details of my life, I made the mistake of making out with Ryan Harp on Friday night. It was the first time he made a move on me in nearly two years (despite all the sleepovers and cuddling) and I was pretty excited. Of course, the night ended in tears and a 3am walk back to my friend’s apartment. Because he’s an asshole. That will never change.

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I’m a Perfect 9.5.

“You’re a perfect 9.5” is what Cedro always told me. That’s because he doesn’t believe a perfect 10 can exist. Swoon.

I’m a perfect 9.5, I’m a perfect 9.5! The idea would dance around in my head so gracefully. Am I really that hot?! Fuck yeah I am!

I firmly believe that every pretty girl should shut the fridgerator up and stop calling herself ugly. If you’re sexy and you know it clap your hands! None of this “OH EM GEE, Stacy, you look so smokin’ in that dress!” followed by the “Oh my God, Cheryl, no I don’t! I could never look smokin.” It’s time to swallow your lack of pride and respond with an “I know, right! Thank you!” If there’s one thing we learned from Regina George it’s that it’s better just to smile and respond with a hearty, I know, right?!, than to admit we have really bad breath in the morning like Cady Heron.

All that aside I want you to know that I think I’m pretty damn awesome and I’ll gladly accept the compliment of someone seeing me as a perfect 9.5.

It’s really a waste of time to think you suck. That’s no fun.

– – –

Update: I’m still seeing Kevin. Sort of. We’re on the same page that this is definitely a non-relationship hook-up, so call it what you may. The problem is, Kevin doesn’t know how to turn off the boyfriend gene and turn on his inner player. He’s a born boyfriend. Cute, but .. problematic?

On Tuesday I went to see Kevin for the first time since last Saturday morning. All weekend he kept texting me telling me how excited he was to see me in just a few days, how much he wanted me, how badly he wished he had someone to cuddle with. Now don’t get me wrong, I love the attention. I am totally the relationship type and it does make me smile ear-to-ear reading a text telling me how someone just cannot wait to see me so soon. But, this is just a hook up. I know for a fact that he is still hung up on his ex, as he has managed to mention her a number of times within the two weeks we’ve been talking. That’s completely fine, as long as it is clear I am okay with it. For now. But Kevin knows nothing but a relationship. All he knows is being a boyfriend. When I was getting sick on Monday (Sidenote: I’ve been sick since Monday, it’s Sunday, this is misery) and told him I couldn’t make any promises for our sex date on Tuesday, his boyfriend-like response was that I shouldn’t worry about it, that he’d be happy just to have me there with him and it would be okay with him if we just slept together. Literally. He told me he was going to take care of me. Trust me, I love it, but I have no clue what to make of it.

For some background, Kevin has only ever slept with one girl: His ex-girlfriend, Kristi. They were together for nearly 2 years. So, of course, he is under the impression that he has mastered the art of intercourse (yes, I just wrote that). And I’m sure Kristi told him he was a master of all things orgasmic. His confidence is sexy, but is confidence enough?

I’ll spare you the dirty details and just give you my thoughts. Like when I slept with the newly confident Danny, (my ex-boyfriend and dear friend from high school) I was rather disappointed with Kevin. Both Danny and Kevin swore they were going to “rock my world” and though my world may have felt a level 4 earthquake, it was hardly rocked.

Before I slept with Kevin I was a bit apprehensive to do so. To me, it’s a numbers game, and I typically don’t sleep around and I have never done the whole casual sex thing (minus that one time with Danny). But I wanted to sleep with Kevin, I was excited to sleep with Kevin, my friends even encouraged me to sleep with Kevin. Maybe he will restore your faith in men, my friend suggested. Yes, maybe he will. Maybe I can reverse the curse. What curse, you ask? The curse of Cedro.

You see, to put it gently, Cedro was the best fudgesicle I’ve ever had. He was a pro – as expected from a man who has slept with eight or nine times the number of people I have. But he was a world-rocker. A wonderful, sexy, latino world-rocker. And he ruined me. He ruined me for all other men who aren’t practiced whores. Shit man, that’s the curse.

Now that you have all the background info you need, here’s my conclusion: Men who have been in relationships for a long time may think they’re good at knocking on your door, but it’s very possible that they are not. Confidence is sexy, but I’ve quickly learned it doesn’t always prove true. Now, here’s how me being a perfect 9.5 comes into play. When I was with Cedro I never felt that I was the best fudgsicle he’d ever had, but that I was one of many rabbit holes and he was a beautiful world-rocker. But with Kevin, I sure as hell felt like a world-rocker, and I didn’t need to feel like a Cedro-slut to do so.

So thank you, Cedro, for giving me the confidence to prance around like a perfect 9.5 .. I’m sorry, a perfect TEN, as well as the ability to rock many a future world.

Now maybe I’ll be the one putting curses on men. Until then, faux-boyfriend-Kevin is adorable. He’s a nice guy and to be honest, niceness beats world-rocking any day. Hooray for saying yes to nice to the nice guy!

– – –

On an unrelated note, man-who-asked-for-my-number-on-street, let’s just call him Man X, just texted:

“Hey brat, I bet my weekend can beat up ur weekend.. Lol. You and I are chillen & making some incredible adventure happn this wk. Wat’s your schedule look like?”

I have so many issues with this. Thoughts?

The Long Con.

Remember Kevin? The insignificant three-week fling from my freshman year. The one who started texting me last Saturday night. Well the texting continued all week. Actually, it never stopped. We’re still talking. Right now.

Kevin kept up conversation just as before. He’d ask about my day, complain about his job, take interest in my hobbies, and so on and so forth. Eventually I got used to it and after a few days I was expecting his texts. One day I even initiated the conversation myself, because I knew it was coming anyways. Our conversations were long and detailed. Kevin would send me a text that looked as long as a five paragraph essay (you know, in respect to an iPhone screen). Kevin would double text (you know, when you send a text, don’t get a response and send another about something entirely different). I didn’t understand why this was happening. He wasn’t mentioning hanging out nor was he outright flirting with me.

So, because my 17 year old brother left the state for two weeks, I had to turn to my internship boys for advice. Fun fact: I may be doing this again in the future as it might be more useful to take advice from those who are my age/older than me than from my teen-aged little brother.

Anyways, I told them the situation and simply asked: Why is he texting me?

Of course, I’m not an idiot and I got the answer I expected: He wants to get with you. But why? Why me? And why has he been talking to me all week, why doesn’t he just cut to the chase?

Because, my dear naive little intern, he’s playing the long con.

Apparently, this is a tactic. I had no idea. It makes sense, really. It’s just not something I would have thought about. The long con, in my interpretation, is the act of getting what you want, well, the long way.

In reality I get it, and he’s smart for pulling it off. Had he just texted me asking to hang out right off the bat I would have immediately said no. He had to warm me up to the idea. He had to make me trust him again. Sneaky, sneaky.

But here’s the kicker – Kevin never asked me to hang out. He was just conveniently at the same bar as me Friday night. Granted, I knew he was going to be there, he knew I was going to be there, and by default, more often than not, students from my University end up at this particular bar at the end of nearly every weekend night. So I can’t be too shocked and it wasn’t exactly stalking.

At first seeing him was a bit awkward, but that quickly ended as we were both a bit drunk. Then his friends left him behind and he stayed with me. Then he asked me to dance. Then we were making out. Not as adorable and high-school-like as the story I told you last time, is it?

I want to take you home with me, he said. I want to take you home and just make-out with you and cuddle until the sun comes up. I won’t make a move, not unless you want me to. He’s good. He knows just the right things to say. And he got what he wanted. I went home with him and we kissed until the sun came up. He didn’t make a move, though I can’t say that I didn’t want him to.

Of course I asked him why on Earth he was texting me all week. I finally got the answer I wanted, the truth. He just got out of a long term relationship and wanted a girl to talk to. He realized he didn’t know many girls and he figured he’d take a shot in the dark with me. He was shocked I even responded.

Curiosity is my biggest weakness.

I’m aware that I’m his rebound, but he didn’t try to play it off that I wasn’t. So I think, I think I’m okay with that. When he asked me why I even responded to his text, I told him I was curious. And I told him I had no reason not to; he’s much nicer than the last guy I was with. *coughCEDROcough*

So let it be known that we’re still talking. Let it be known that I plan to see him again. I’m not sure if this breaks any rules, but I did say yes to a nice guy regardless of him being one brilliant con-artist.

– – –

Now, on a totally unrelated note, here’s a real triumph: A guy stopped me on the sidewalk the other day and asked for my number. This has never happened to me before. My immediate reaction was, Weirdo, why are you talking to me? But I knew if I was going to do this right, I had to be nice. Apparently he ran out of work just to come talk to me. He made a lot of awkward small talk before asking for my number. I decided it was worth a shot talking to him and it wouldn’t hurt to give the guy a chance. Maybe I’ll get a date out of this. Rule #2, accomplishment? We shall see.

Feeling like Anna Faris.

I actually have no idea what it would feel like to be Anna Faris, but I do feel like her character, Ally Darling, from last year’s What’s Your Number. If you haven’t seen it, here’s a brief recap:

Anna Faris plays a bachelorette looking for love (similar to every other chick flick ever produced). While preparing for her sister’s wedding she comes across a statistic in a magazine informing her that (supposedly) 96% of women in America who have had 20 or more sexual partners will never find a husband. Faris freaks, fearing she will become a statistic and begins tracking down all the men of her past to see if any of them will work the second time around. More importantly, the movie was filmed in Boston, the greatest city on Earth.

Now, I am no where near 20 men and no, this post is not about my number, but I have been backtracking quite a bit lately, just like Faris. Refer to my post Extreme Backsliding for more on that. But, the major difference between myself and Faris is that I’m not looking for it. Sure, with Ryan and Danny I could have prevented the backsliding and no it’s not like I just fell onto Justin’s lips, but running into Justin at an industry party was a shock and this weekend I got another unexpected surprise: a text from Kevin Kross.

The story of Kevin Kross is a rather insignificant one, but here it is nonetheless. I met Kevin my freshman year. He was a friend of a friend and we shared a class. I first developed interest in him while studying for midterms together. Kevin was fun to flirt with and easy to talk to. Soon he revealed that he liked me. At the time I was interested in Kevin, but I was more interested in someone else. I told Kevin I couldn’t get involved with him when I had strong feelings for another person. Long story short, it didn’t work out with this other guy and when it came time for finals I saw Kevin again. We were studying with a larger group of kids from our class, but as the group dwindled and people left to get some sleep, the only two remaining, seated closely on the couch, were Kevin and me. It happened in an adorable high school sort of way. While we were studying we somehow managed to get closer and closer to each other on the couch. Then we were touching hands. Then we were holding hands. Then we were alone. Then we kissed.

Kevin really wanted a girlfriend; he had made that clear from the start. So after kissing him once we were together all the time. I can’t remember the exact amount of time, but our “relationship” cumulatively lasted somewhere around three weeks. The first would be the week before finals. Then we went home for a three week winter break. The relationship maybe lasted for two more weeks once we got back from break, and then it was over.

It turned out Kevin wanted a girlfriend, but most certainly did not have time for one. Kevin was rushing a fraternity, was in the honors program, and studied mechanical engineering. With all this going on he could only manage to see me for less than an hour at a time (unless I decided to tag a long with whatever his frat boys were doing) and that, unfortunately, was not enough. Somehow, I can’t exactly remember how, but somehow a combination of Kevin’s lack of time and probably some of my craziness (freshman year wasn’t my finest) we came to a mutual decision to stop seeing one another. That was the end of that. I was probably sad about it for a week. The end.

So here we are, two and a half years later, and I receive a text from a number I don’t recognize.

“Hey”

“sorry I got a new phone who is this”

“Kevin”

“kross?”

“Ya how have you been?”

The conversation started at 12:18 am on Saturday night (or technically Sunday morning) and continued until 11:45pm last night. I was surprised to hear from him – Kevin Kross why are you texting me? But curiosity always prevails and I kept the conversation going. Of course keeping the conversation going was not very difficult considering for every two sentences I’d send, he’d send a paragraph in response. Interesting. Of course I checked his Facebook for his relationship status. I knew he had found a girlfriend, but I had no idea if they were still together. But Facebook gave me nothing in either direction, no relationship status to be found. Fortunately, finally, he mentioned her as his “now ex” and how they were going to go on a cruise together but it “obviously didn’t work out”. Sounds like a recent break up to me. I didn’t dare ask; if the boy wants to backslide my way, so be it. It’s not like this hasn’t been the recent trend of my life anyways. And Kevin’s a nice guy. I see no harm.

But my dear, sweet, universe, what on earth are you trying to tell me? Why do these ghosts of boyfriend’s past keep coming into my life?

Does it have anything to do with the awkward bride and groom figurines that appeared in my cubicle last fall?

Probably not, but these still perplex me.

If anything the universe is keeping it interesting and I think I’m okay with that. And yes, I have resorted to blaming the things I can’t explain on the universe and I blame that little factoid on Lily and Marshall. (How I Met Your Mother, anyone?).

Extreme Backsliding.

Backsliding is a term I first learned from FOX’s new comedy series (starring the beautiful Zooey Deschanel), New Girl.

According to the Merriam-Webster dictionary to backslide is “to lapse morally or in the practice of religion [and/or] to revert to a worse condition”.

According to the series’ stereotypical douche-bag, Schmidt, “Backsliding is what happens after a clean break, when you freak out and you go crawling back and you make everything messy and horrible.”

I am a bit embarassed to say that within the past week I have practiced the sport of ultimate backsliding with such expertise they should be sending me to the London 2012 Summer Olympics.

“You backslid all the way down the hill and back into the parking lot,” says Schmidt. Yes, Schmidt, I most certainly did.

– – –

It began last Thursday, the day of my roommate and best friend, Lola’s, return from a month studying journalism in Jordan. The plan was to welcome her back with a night out at one of her favorite Fenway bars (have I mentioned I’m from Boston?). Of course this welcome back party would not be complete without all of our closest friends, a bit of booze, and a bit of drama.

After spending the afternoon with her, I finally asked if a certain someone was coming. His name is Ryan. Let’s pause for a minute for a brief history lesson on Ryan Harp.

I met Ryan nearly two years ago. He lived in the apartment across the hall and because of this we soon became friends. He was different from other guys I knew. He was a bit of a hippy. He had one hell of a beard. He had two tattoos. But most importantly, he had gaged earlobes. I have this extreme weakness for guys with pierced ears. So at this, I swoon.

Initially, I wasn’t very interested in Ryan, not right away. The idea crossed my mind, but at the time I had promised myself I would try to maintain soley platonic relationships with guys unless I was falling madly in love. This was the case because in the previous spring and summer months I had managed to break the heart of one of the sweetest guys I have ever dated, the best boyfriend I have ever had, Justin Clare. But more on him later. Back to Ryan.

One night we all went out to a party together and with the assistance of some booze and some dancing we ended up making out on the dance floor. At the end of the night I told him that it shouldn’t have happened, that I wasn’t looking for anything and with us being neighbors, I just wanted to be friends. He was seemingly cool with it. And that should have been the end of that. But of course, here we are, nearly two years later, still talking about Ryan. Because Ryan is my fallback. No matter the situation, I always go back to Ryan.

Time went on and we kept hanging out. He would flirt, tell me he wanted to kiss me, tell me he wished we could be more than friends, and eventually I fell for him. And I fell hard. Flat on my face actually. Because as soon as I reciprocated the feelings, he suddenly wanted nothing to do with me (see How I Met Your Mother Season 4, Episode 24 “The Leap”).

This has been going on, back and forth, for the past two years. Finally, while I was abroad in Barcelona, it occurred to me that nothing positive was coming of our friendship and I decided to write him off as asshole #2 (asshole #1 was in high school, he’s not significant at the moment). Ryan had gone to France to visit a friend studying there and whilst he was in France a friend of mine and I went to meet up with Ryan and his two friends in Paris for the weekend. Not only was Ryan a jerk the entire time we visited Paris, but also about a week after he left I found out he managed to sleep with two of my friends. All details aside (I hope you get the point) I decided to delete him from my life. Not only did he cause me constant stress, but he also caused me repeated heartbreak. A guy like that isn’t worth it, is he?

Well, after being back in the US for a month and a half I began to miss him. He was a fun friend when he wanted to be. And I didn’t want to cause drama within the friend group. Maybe I’ll give it another shot, I thought. I wasn’t with Cedro anymore so Ryan couldn’t hate me for that (because he most certainly hated Cedro) so what’s the harm?

Back to the night out with Lola. She said she didn’t invite Ryan because she didn’t want to make me uncomfortable. TO HELL WITH IT! I thought, invite him anyways! I miss him! It’s fine!

I saw him, I gave him a hug, the night went on and soon a group of us were outside talking. Then only Ryan and I were outside talking. Then Ryan’s current girl, Caitlin, came outside. The night ended with Ryan breaking things off with Caitlin, just to walk me home.

The entire walk home we fought and argued and tried to resolve our issues once again until finally we decided to just drop it. I spent the night with him, but nothing happened. I spent the entire next day with him, but nothing happened. Our friends were suspicious, but we were okay. We were flirting, but we were getting a long. And I let myself fall back into that trap. I am so attracted to him and it will not go away. But I know he’s attracted to me too. We both talked about it and it was very clear. Maybe it will work this time, I thought.

Stupid girl.

– – –

Fast-forward to the following night, Friday. Friday night my friend and current “wing-man”, Mason, finally convinced this guy Lawrence Bley to go come out to the bars with us. Now I hope you’ve been paying attention because Lawrence has been mentioned before. In “The Epiphany” I mentioned how Baseball-Cap-Canadian reminded me of my more-attractive friend from back home. That’s Lawrence. I also mentioned the guy I kissed and danced in the rain with during the week I had broken up with Cedro. That’s Lawrence. I had always had a crush on Lawrence. He’s a smart, good looking guy. Why not, right? Well, of course Lawrence decides to come out on the night after I stared to reconnect with Ryan. Hello drama. This could get awkward. But things could only get worse because before going out I received a text from one of my closest, most trusted, best friends who also happens to be my most significant ex-boyfriend as well as my first love: Danny Traver. When Danny asked me what I was up to that night I felt obligated to invite him as I had blown him off a few weekends prior and kept giving him a hard time for never having time to hang out with me.

So here we are, in a bar with myself, Ryan, Lawrence, and Danny. I cringe at what may come of this. My immediate reaction was to shut out Ryan, but of course we managed to make eyes at each other from across the room at one point. He told two of my friends on that night that he really wanted to hook up with me. But I knew he was the worst option, and I wanted to focus on including Danny among my friends and looking pretty for Lawrence. But of course things took a turn for the weird.

The night ended with Danny trying to be my wingman for Lawrence and as Lawrence and I made awkward small talk the night slowly came to an end. He was on his way out and as he was walking out the door he gave me a kiss and said, “See you in the fall.” In the fall?! Yeah, he’s going to Costa Rica. Talk about leaving someone hanging. He’s smart, leaving his doors open. But I wasn’t having it. I left the bar with Danny and as we were walking back to Lola’s apartment where we planned to crash (we both live outside the city and the trains had stopped) we somehow ended up sitting on a stone wall, making out for all the world to see. Oh alcohol, why do you cause me to make these decisions? But I wanted it. I never expected it, but I wanted it. I had always wanted to know what would happen if we were to hook up again. He called for a ride to come pick us up and we spent the night at his house. And man did I backslide.

I realized after the fact that I no longer had any attraction to Danny, that hooking up with him again was something I had fantasized about, but not something that was truly satisfying in reality. We’re good friends, and that’s that. As much as this backslide was extreme (we’ve been broken up for nearly four years) I found myself glad that it happened. I got it out of my system, out of the way, and now I could focus solely on Ryan. Things were gonna happen with Ryan this time, I could feel it. Or so I thought.

– – –

Fast-forward to this past Thursday, June 28th. I go to a company party and who do I run into? Justin. Of course I was thrilled to see him as I knew hardly anyone at the event (I’m only an intern) and was happy to have a familiar face. Of course working in the media world, I have quickly learned, means a lot of socializing and a lot of booze. What a hard life I lead.

Brief Justin history: Justin and I dated our freshman year of college. I was a lost soul and he was my savior. He was fun and interesting, sweet and charming, and to be honest the best damn boyfriend a girl could ask for. Too bad I like assholes. So I dumped him, he was just too perfect and I was bored. His friends won’t let me forget that I broke his heart.

We chatted for hours, catching up and making jokes. As I looked at him I was kicking myself for not being more interested in him. As I became a bit intoxicated I started to babble on about how nice he was. I prefaced my statement with “You wanna know something really sappy? I don’t say this kind of stuff to people, but I feel like you should know” and told him he was the nicest guy I had ever dated. It wasn’t a move and it wasn’t just courtesy, I had just recently realized this and thought he should know. Who doesn’t want to hear how awesome they are?! (I feel like I’ve written that one before!) He blamed himself for the breakup which I quickly negated. He did nothing wrong, I just like jerks. Obviously.

When I left the event he walked me to the train where he tried to make a move and I gave him the cheek. No, I told myself, don’t go there. Do not open that can of worms. You’ve done enough damage this week.

I got my drunk self home and began texting Ryan. Obviously nothing that happened this past week wouldn’t have happened without alcohol. Silly silly girl. But this is what your 20s are all about, right? I can be responsible later. Anyways, I texted Ryan because he cancelled our plans for the following day and was being irrationally pissed at my friends and me because he didn’t want to drive to the beach (even though he offered). This, of course, lead to an argument and lead to me spilling my guts to him via text message. His response: I think we should just be friends. I’m sorry.

– – –

Justin invited me to a party at his house the following night where he asked me to be his beer pong partner and offered my girlfriends shots. He’s just so damn nice and this time, when he made the move, I reciprocated. Why? Because I’m an expert backslider, that’s why.

 – – –

I’ve made some new rules:

Rule #4 – Stay away from Cedro.

Rule #5 – Stay away from Ryan.

Rule #6 – STOP BACKSLIDING.

I think my addiction to assholes goes hand in hand with my addiction to drama. Why go through a stress free life looking for a new guy when you can go mess around with guys you’ve already been with. Gosh, I don’t know, maybe because it makes everything messy and horrible?

Oops.