Month: September 2005

Sigh. I’ve really refrained from making any aspect of this blog X-rated since my family reads. I lightly edit my life, and probably end up sounding a little more “together” than I really am. That being said, today’s entry builds on yesterday’s porn post, and there’s just no way around this. If the family is reading, please stop now and go watch the Disney Channel or something. For everyone else, I’ll try to be classy.

What I left out of yesterday’s blog is probably what some of you already read between the lines. After I watched all the porn, and got blocked out of the site for 24 hours, I was, well, in the mood. It was only 9 a.m., but MotorcycleInstructor called and asked what I was doing and I told him. He said, “Ok, well, I will come over there in a bit.” But I already knew that his “bit” would really end up being hours, or possibly days, and a girl just can’t walk around with her panties in a knot for an interminable amount of time. After a thorough examination of the contents of one battery operated item in my nightstand drawer, I was ready to begin my day.

I was right. His “hour” turned into three hours and I had to run out to Rockville for an appointment. He called around noon and I said “Let’s try for 2:00.” He said ok. But at 2:00, he was waiting on a call from a student who wanted to practice. It was nice to not get all huffy because at this point I didn’t care anymore. I was over the whole thing. He said around 4:00 and that went to 5:00, 6:00, 7:00 and as I was watching Seinfeld (it doesn’t take any visual stimulation at this point in my life) I leaned over to the drawer and conducted another “inspection.” AS SOON as I put it away and called the game over, he calls. WTF???

It’s quite close to 8:00 at this point. He says he’s running a few errands and then is on his way over. I tell him he doesn’t need to hurry as I want to go to the gym. He says, “What? I thought you were all bothered today?” I said, “Well, I WAS, but I took care of it already.” He was so pissed off. He said, “Velvet, you take ALL the fun out of this.” I said, “What the hell are you talking about? I fucking knew your few minutes would be hours, days even. Why wait?” He said, “You knew I was busy today, I promised you I was coming over and you just couldn’t wait. I suppose you don’t need me to come over now.” I said, “You can still come over. Who says I’m done? And for the record, you have proven yourself highly unreliable when it comes to estimations of your arrival time. You were supposed to be here at 11:00 this morning!” He said, “Fine, call me when you leave the gym.”

I called at 9:45 and it went to voicemail. I walked the dogs, went dumpster diving in someone’s recycling bin for the daily crossword, and resigned myself to an evening in bed with the dogs and today’s puzzle. He called back at 11, said he had fallen asleep and was on his way. I told him he didn’t have to come over. He said, “What do you not want me to come?” I said, “No, you’re in bed, if you’re tired, then stay at your house.” He said, “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

He literally came over, and we went to sleep. It was so strange. But, my boss and I were talking this morning and I told him “I have one of my famous funny stories for you.” (I share these things with him all the time…)

After I told him he said, “Am I to understand that you are dating a man who is jealous of your vibrator and love of porn?”

Yup, that sounds about accurate.

Then he said, “Where do you find these guys?”

We ALL want to know the answer to that, don’t we?

Have any of you ever seen these words appear on your computer?

Dear Customer:
We are sorry, but you have maxed out your time allotted for viewing movie trailers. Please come back and visit Excalibur Films again tomorrow.

Uh, in case you were wondering, yes, I saw those words today. I slept only from 2 a.m. until 5 a.m. again last night. No idea why. When I realized that I wasn’t going to fall back asleep, that the T.V. channels I like to watch are still in infomercial mode, that none of your blogs had possibly been updated yet, that the news hadn’t changed in three hours, and that there was no one awake to possibly talk to, I hopped online and started ordering porn. Eighty dollars later, I’m anxiously waiting for the UPS truck to stop by my door. Yes, yes, yes, I’m a woman and I love porn. It’s really amazing that no one has snatched me up yet, I know. But it’s interesting that the things men love about you in the beginning are the things that they end up hating about you most when you start having problems.

Once you place your order, your customer number allows you to view trailers for up to 30 days. Apparently there’s a daily time limit on that. I’ve never maxed it out in one sitting before though.

Christ. I’m pathetic. I have GOT to find a real man.

Enjoy.

I know I’ve gotten away from the “dating” theme of the blog the past few days, but things have been slow. The hits I’m getting online are such losers and the stupid asses at “It’s Just Lunch” have yet to get their act together to set me up with the next moron.

But, as I was walking the dogs this morning, I saw this truck outside my building. Does anyone see ANY conflict of interest between what this woman does for a living and the sexual innuendo that is her license plate?

Maybe the secret of how she “unfrazzles” parents and reduces anxiety is by simultaneously whispering and conducting the activity mentioned on her plate? Sheesh, I could have told you that.

UPDATE: Leave it to my boss to utilize google to keep him entertained throughout the wee hours of the morning. It seems that their website has a picture of Debi. If she was born in 1969 that would make her 4 years older than me. No way. She looks much older than that. And, then you could check this website out that specifically says, “Debi is dead.” So, what the hell?

I really had the most disturbing experience today. I’m trying to forget it, but I really need to discuss. Please be forewarned, you all will see me in a different light after today.

I am, as I have been for almost 8 years, a fan of the Brazilian Bikini Wax. Eight years ago, yes, they were virtually impossible to find and I had to do it myself. Then I discovered my treasure in Rockville and started “seeing” her, if you will. But the price kept going up and the drive to Rockville has become a pain since I am not working up there anymore so I started looking in town. The salon attached to my gym does Brazilians for half the price. I had to call to verify that they do “the whole thing” because some places won’t, and they leave the landing strip. I want no landing strip, I want it all off.

My appointment was today at 5. I’m used to going into a cozy room, being given disposable undies and a robe. The sargeant at this salon told me to drop my drawers. And I did. But then my legs were in all sorts of sexual positions and frankly, it was a little embarrassing, even for me, who fantasizes about a career as a stripper.

She’s all done in record time, and she says, “See? Smooth.” At this point she grabs my hand and puts it down there and starts RUBBING. And I’m trying to pull my hand away, and she takes it back and goes lower. I’m really scratching things off my Life-To-Do list. Now I’ve been masturbated by a Thai woman with my own hand.

Now, I know that I shouldn’t corrupt my new beautiful niece by posting her picture in the same blog as the masturbation entry, but, it’s too late. It’s a little blurry, mostly because those present at the birth admittedly don’t know a lot about cameras.

I don’t know what that title means, but I’ve been waiting until it was late September to use it, so THERE!

Moving with BestGuyFriend-M was hilariously hilarious. We went to his old condo to “pick up the last few things.” I should have brought something like, oh, a U-Haul, because his “last few things” were equivalent to what I would term “enough stuff to send to a homeless Katrina Hurricane Family.”

When we were cleaning out the refrigerator, there were like 3 dozen old eggs. We threw them into the trash and once the car was filled, we decided to take what we had to his new place, stopping to drop the trash. We illegally dumped the trash somewhere that shall remain undisclosed due to the sign that said “No public dumping, fines of $500.”

As we unloaded the boxes and other half-assed packed things at his new place, we realized that one of those eggs made a great eggscape – all over the back seat of his convertible Saab. It smashed right next to the latest pile of bird shit from his last foray parking under a tree. This is why I don’t drive a convertible.

We clean the egg the best we can and it becomes obvious that we would have to make several trips to the car to get all the stuff. This is inconvenient based on the placement of his parking space and the elevator, so I insist on taking it all at once. This results in me piling all the boxes on top of each other and getting on my knees and pushing it down the hall. But the boxes must have been heavier than I was (impossible) because every time I pushed, I only ended up pushing myself in the backward direction across the marble tile in the hall. M was hysterically laughing at me as he wheeled his ONE suitcase down the hall to his front door. I was a madwoman, but I got on my ass and pushed the boxes with my legs. That worked much better. Just as I pushed them over the threshold of the front door, he said “Thanks for your help” and slammed the door. When he opened it, I was laying on my back in the hall mumbling about what a good friend I was. Then he suggested we go get some food – at this point it’s about midnight. He asked me what I wanted to eat. My answer was priceless.

“I’ll have a backseat omelette with a side of birdshit.”

We could not stop laughing. M is a friend who I will still do favors for.

I have been VERRRRY lazy today. It’s definitely a Sunday. I woke up at noon and finally got out of bed by 1:00. The one block walk with the dogs wore me down so much that I was seriously considering a nap by 2:30. The nap never happened, but I did lay on the bed for most of the day. I still lay on that bed as I write, having not moved very much at all in the past few hours. I can feel my muscles atrophying.

MotorcycleInstructor came over last night, ever so briefly. Yes, we resolved the Friday turkey sandwich incident. He called me, of course, because I certainly would not have called him again. I DO NOT chase men. We each explained our side of what happened, he didn’t understand that I thought he was condescending and I didn’t understand his assessment that I went “psycho.” We’ve really got the makings of a beautiful, committed, communicative relationship in the works. Uh, ok, maybe not.

Don’t judge yet. These infuriating events help me care less and less for the day when he exits my life. I agree with all of you who have commented, both in person and on the blog, that it shouldn’t be this hard. I’m letting it die a slow painful death and in the spirit of getting back to the basics of what I do worst, I’m officially in the dating game again. I posted profiles on Yahoo and Match, and so far I’ve attracted most of the current residents and several alumni from the We-be-missing-some-teeth-Trailer Park. I might have to date some of them just for fun. And the fuckers at “It’s Just Lunch” have called again. So, we’ll see what shitpile they are going to dump me into later this week. Can’t wait.

Tonight I agreed to help BestGuyFriend-M move some things to his new place. I know, I know, I had that whole diatribe on Friday’s post that I’m no longer operating the favor train. But, M hasn’t burned me yet so I’ll still give him a shot.

Today, for the first time ever, I am an Auntie. Madison Kay (last name of Velvet gets inserted here) was born at 5:25 p.m.; 8 lbs 9 ounces. She’s the biggest baby ever on both our side and my sister-in-law’s side of the family.

YAY! I’m an Auntie! I’m going out to have a drink for Maddie. Nothing can bring me down today.

I can officially cross “Throw a sandwich in someone’s face” off the list of things I must accomplish in my lifetime. Keep reading.

The Favor Train is over. O-V-E-R. I am one of those people who is just a little too nice. I try to help people out, do good things and you know what? Being nice to people ALWAYS backfires like a 1979 TransAm with Jersey plates. Those of you calling in your favors to me, hire the appropriate professional to handle your woe. I ain’t doing it anymore.

I was supposed to watch Sara’s dog this weekend, but that ended up not happening. This is a favor that went so wrong in the beginning that it didn’t get its chance to play out to the end. My dog and Sara’s dog had a fight and my dog, Thora (not Sammy) bit Ginger. The whole scene was ugly. I have to say that while Sara told me I was her only option, and that I genuinely felt bad about that, there was nothing I could do. She wanted me to try it anyway. I just couldn’t. And I’m having a hard time understanding how she could selfishly want to leave her dog here in “dangerous territory” just so she could go out of town for the weekend. When man tries to control an animal, the animal in the end, has a way of showing who’s boss. The animals had spoken. Being nice gets your dog in a fight.

I went with Penny this morning to get her new car in Baltimore. I took the metro to Greenbelt and she was to pick me up and we would drive to Baltimore from there. She said she would leave when I was getting on the metro at U Street/Cardozo and we hung up as I took my seat. But, she didn’t leave and I called her when I was two stops away and she said, “Oh, I better leave the house now.” Now, I’m late everywhere too, but I try a little harder when someone is doing me a favor. And I should make a disclaimer that Penny is truly one of those friends who routinely goes out of her way for you. But, I still need this one for my story. Sorry Pen! I only ended up waiting a few minutes, Being nice leaves you waiting at the metro station.

We went directly to the DMV in Gaithersburg after leaving Baltimore. I was hungrier than Sally Struthers and damn Penny wouldn’t let me eat first. MotorcycleInstructor was there testing people with the bikes. We got to see each other for the first time since the big chill of two weeks. The DMV said Penny had to notarize her bill of sale so we left. But then I remembered that my notary stuff was in my car, not at my apartment in D.C. Since part of today’s plan was to get the car back from Helen, we left to get food and go pick up my car. MotorcycleInstructor asked me to bring him a sandwich, since we had to come back anyway, and I pleasantly obliged.

Despite the fact that we had an entire conversation last night about me picking up the car at her apartment at noon today, it turns out that Helen drove it to work instead of driving her own which she now has back in her possession. So we had to wait at the restaurant (PotBelly, yum, the highlight of my otherwise shitty day) for her to come up to Gaithersburg from Bethesda with my car. Being nice leaves you killing time at PotBelly.

Back at the DMV I give the big baby his food. Then he asks if I could drive him from one lot to another while he’s consolidating bikes etc. so he doesn’t have to walk. I agree, and he tells me to go get my car and wait at “that stop sign.” I do as told, and he wasn’t there when I got there. I wait and wait, Penny is in the car with me, and he comes up in someone’s Jeep, gets out and he’s shaking his head like I fucked up and he couldn’t wait for me. But, I did as told! Penny goes back into the DMV and he rode the motorcycle back to his truck. I find him down the street and he’s shaking his head and walking by me, and won’t stop long enough to hear me ask what the hell I did wrong. I follow him to his truck and he goes “Babe, I’m not mad, you just didn’t listen.” I said, “Fuck you, don’t you ever walk away from me when I’m talking to you.” And with that, I threw that fucking turkey sandwich at him. Being nice ends up making you throw a turkey sandwich in someones face.

Now, I’m taking MY dogs to the dog park and then I’m taking a nap and then I’m going to the gym. My first responsibility is to my job and to my dogs. I am not putting either of those two in a compromised position or in jeopardy to accommodate someone else ever again.

And with that, I’m out.

Well, MotorcycleInstructor called me back last night and again today. We talked a little more about what went wrong. I said, “Look, I just felt like if any woman told me the same details of what went on with me and you, I would tell her that the guy she is dating clearly has a girlfriend.” He laughed. But then he said, “I don’t have a girlfriend. I’m talking to my girlfriend now.” Typical of me, instead of addressing that, I change the subject to something stupid like, “Sammy’s eating a rawhide.” I’m a moron.

As I was thinking about what I was going to write for this blog, he called me. He’s on his way home from a bike night at some bar. I asked if he was drunk, and he said he wasn’t, and that being drunk was my department. Yes it is. Now that we have our roles somewhat straightened out, I again begin giving him a hard time about the whole thing. He said he had these plans to wash my car, wash the dog, take me to dinner, all to make up for it, but that I wouldn’t return his calls. For the record, I don’t believe all that nonsense. The rest of the conversation goes like this:

Me: “Fine, let’s go to dinner.” (It would be like, gasp, a real date.)
Him: “Ok, but you know you have some making up to do too.”
Me: “What?”
He repeats.
Me: “Ok, let’s get our cards on the table. What do you want?”
Him: “You mean with you and me?”
Me: “Yes.”
Him: “Um, what do you want?”
Me: “Oh no way, I asked you first.”
Him: “I’m thinking about that baby.”
Me: “Ok, I’m waiting.”
Him: “I’m at 7/11. Can I order my hot dog and call you back?”
Me: (giggling) “Of course.”

It’s a big decision that he has to make. He knows that when he calls back, whatever he says will be the determining factor of what happens with us. And, gasp, should he not call me back at all tonight, which of course wouldn’t be totally out of the realm of possibilities for him, well, then he’s officially done in my life. And that would be with good reason. Shit, I almost want to DARE him to not call back. The wrath of a Greek Woman is not one many want to face.

Ok. It’s later. He called back. We’re on the phone now. We’re discussing what each of us wants. He said he likes me, wants to get to know me better and develop it into a relationship. He asked me how I felt and if I could see myself with him. I said “Yes.” And he was like, “Really? Why?” So I went through some of my reasons, which made him question the quality of man I’ve dated in the past. I KNOW, I KNOW, THEY ARE ALL ASSHOLES.

He said that he’s happy about the fact that my brother and sister-in-law were in his corner and rooting for him, and that they count the most because they are family. Then he said about my brother, “He sounds pretty cool. I would like having him for a brother in law one day.” Again. I. Was. Speechless. These statements shock me so much that I’m like, stuck and I can’t talk or say the 754 things running through my head.

All in all it was a good conversation, obviously.

Still in a hellaciously bad mood. It would help if my partner in crime, Sara, was feeling up and happy, but, alas, she’s at the intersection of Shit Street and Fuck it All Boulevard like me.

So, a few random things to note before I dwell back in my self-imposed misery. None of these items are really related to each other.

First, I almost got run over by a bitch in her piece of shit car today. She ran the stop sign at the infamous New Hampshire and S intersection, almost ran over me and the dogs, had the nerve to scream at me as if I didn’t have the right of way, and was on her cell phone without an ear piece. Where were the cops when you needed them? At the opposing stop sign with their windows open, and other pedestrians screaming for them to do something about what happened. You know what they did? What D.C. cops usually do. If you guessed nothing, you are correct. Your prize is that I’ll share some of my Prozac with you that I found in my medicine cabinet from my days of living with the ex. Which brings me to my next item.

Second, AtlantaBoy begged me to send copies of pictures of us from our relationship together to him. So I did. I went out of my way to collect all these duplicates, pack them up and priority mail them. And you know what? Saturday morning I fucking woke up to find that package on my door, marked “Return to Sender, recipient moved and left no forwarding address.” So I sent that bastard an instant message saying that he either gave me the wrong address, or, if he’s not on the lease then there’s no way they would sign for it because they don’t know he lives there. That was Saturday afternoon. He hasn’t written back, despite the fact that he’s been online uninterrupted since that point in time.

Third, I repeat my mantra, “It doesn’t pay to be nice.” Some of you who were with me may remember the hit and run incident in Adams Morgan where we left the note but not our phone number. We had a conversation at that time about how that would backfire if I was actually nice enough to leave my own phone number to be a witness for the poor schmuck whose car was belted. Well, today at Safeway, I am second in line behind a lady who was nice enough to scoot her groceries down the conveyor so I could dump my armful of food down. Then she offers the guy behind me a chance to go in front of all of us because he only had one item. He gladly agrees. Well, the cashier was briefly talking to another customer while he was getting out his money, then he started screaming “HELLO!!!” to get her attention. After all the screaming, he fucking forgot his damn ice cream or whatever and had to come all the way back to get it. What an ass, he’d still be in that damn line if it wasn’t for the nice lady in front of me. I told the cashier it doesn’t pay to be nice. And you know what she said? “I witnessed a hit and run one day on Corcoran here from my register and I left them a note and they had the nerve to accuse me of being the one to hit them.” Christ almighty, point taken and proven time and time again. People suck.

Finally, I got a bug up my ass, thought about this for exactly 4 seconds before I picked up the phone and called MotorcycleInstructor, if only to make my peace. Here it goes:

MI: Well hello.
Me: Hi. I’m calling to make peace.
MI: I called and called. I sent text messages. I was thinking about you yesterday and I was wondering why we couldn’t still be friends.
Me: I don’t know. I just got tired of the shit.
MI: I was busy and I couldn’t see you and you got mad.
Me: That’s not exactly how I remember it.
MI: Really?
Me: Yes, you promised to spend last Friday with me, and then you bailed. Then you promised to hang out with me last Saturday and you bailed on that too. I got tired of it.
MI: No. That’s not how it happened.
Me: Ok, sure. Well, look, I’m just calling to be nice.
MI: This is nice?
Me: It’s the best I can do.
MI: All right, let me call you back in one minute when I get back to my house.
Me: Ok.

Let me tell you that my sister in law and brother like MotorcycleInstructor for some reason and when I told them I called, my sister-in-law yelled, YAY. I don’t know why. Ok. I know why. I think it’s a selfish reason. There is a very specific reason my parents wouldn’t like him. Very specific. Read: Racist Greek Parents. There. ‘Nuff said.

Well, MotorcycleInstructor did call back and we talked for a few minutes. But, I think that there’s no going back. And I’m still in my anti-dating mode right now. I thought about going online again to see what’s out there. (Notice I say “what’s” instead of “who’s” out there?) But, I’m not sure how I even feel about that. I’m so disgusted with this whole ridiculous situation. Where the FUCK is that Prozac???

Very bored. Bored, bored, BORED. I think I need an anti-depressant. I’ve grown disenchanted with all that used to keep me entertained.

Ok. The situation with my family is still sort of the same. My father instantly printed out the email I wrote to him and delivered it to the hands of my mother, who was either in the garden bitching about how the neighbors trees are killing her plants, or she was in front of the television developing yet another conspiracy theory about Hurricane Katrina and how it is really an evil plot hatched by republicans. (Past parental conspiracy theories include my sister-in-law who is a nurse drugging my brother and brainwashing him into not wanting to move out of Michigan and my father’s sister single-handedly preventing them from buying any real estate in New York.) In any case, she replied some nonsense that the conversation didn’t happen like I said, and that if I don’t want her advice to tell her to butt out. Um, what? I’ve been trying to do that for 32 years, but, to no avail.

My sister-in-law told me that she and my brother think the thing with MotorcycleInstructor was a huge misunderstanding, and that I should answer when he calls the next time. I’m unmoved by that idea. Usually I end up getting a softness in my heart and in the name of “closure” I would do something like this. But I can honestly say that I don’t care. I don’t know what has gotten into me. This dating and juggling has just lost its fun for the time being. That’s why the posts have been fewer and farther between.

Regarding DamascusBoy – who has perennially been on my back burner – he asked me flat out this morning when we are going to get together. I said, “I am not in the mood to date right now.” He said that he understood, and to let him know when I was. Well, that was nice enough.

So here I am, working away, (believe it or not,) and working on stuff for the condo board that I’m on. That’s it. Boring, right? Snooooooooore. Try not to fall into a coma. I’ll try to recover soon. I had one of these bouts of depression when I lived with AtlantaBoy, and I got through…hmm… You know, DAMN IT! He and I have been talking via IM again! Christ. WHY DIDN’T I MAKE THIS CONNECTION BEFORE??? Holy shit. What the hell is wrong with me? His mere presence in my life depresses me. Why? Could it be because we were supposed to be “together forever” and that didn’t happen?

Men suck. Yes, that goes for all of you. Yes, you in the back too.

There’s really no new news to report. MotorcycleInstructor called me again on Monday and left a message that was like, “Woman, if you don’t call me back…” and then hung up. And I haven’t called. I’m still pretty irritated, and not really in the mood to get back into that swing again. I don’t really have a game plan, I’m not sure what I’m going to do about it – if anything at all. I think I was also using him as a crutch, to validate what I did with buying the motorcycle and to help me get out there on the road. But, Sunday night I rode around the neighborhood. Yesterday I rode up to Van Ness, so I’m doing quite well. I’m not ambitious enough to ride out to Gaithersburg, but I’m getting there.

So, I don’t need him. I’m in one of my moods where I feel like I don’t need or want anyone. Here it comes: I’m going to take a break from dating for a bit. Knowing me, it will probably only be a week, but I’m just so tired of the game. Much to my mother’s dismay, I would rather be alone than with someone who isn’t right for me. She got on my case the other night about how I’m never going to meet anyone at the rate I’m going. What does that mean? I’ve done everything possible to “meet someone” and it’s worked out so well that I now have this blog illustrating my collection of losers. I don’t know what she’s talking about, she’s the worlds biggest black cloud. Her ideas are laughable – go to a museum at lunch, or join a group that works with the museums. Yeah, so I can meet HER kind of artsy-fartsy guy. Or she likes the old, “go to church” solution. The guy for me is not at a museum looking at paintings and he’s definitely not at church. Since I’m basically an Atheist, what good does church do me? My perfect guy is hungover on Sundays, just like me.

Not a lot to report in the past few days. Had the party Saturday. I think it went off quite well. I spent all day Saturday cleaning for the party, and all day Sunday cleaning up after the party, but it was an eventful and fun weekend nonetheless.

Thursday night I heard empty promises from MotorcycleInstructor about us spending the day together Friday. Then it unraveled in much the same manner it always does…”Oh, I have one thing to do, then I’ll call you.” One thing turns into two and next thing you know, it’s the end of the day and I haven’t heard a thing. More of the same promises Friday night and I finally said that I was having a “get-together” on Saturday and asked if he was going to come by. He said yes. Then I don’t hear from him all day Saturday except for a few text messages that I initiated. Saturday evening I asked if he was coming and he said “maybe” and that’s all I heard. So at 4:30 a.m., drunk on many Blue Hawaiians, I sent him a text message that said, “I get it. You don’t even try to spend any time with me despite your promises. I’m done with this shit.” And at 6:30 a.m. he wrote back, “You’ve been drinking?” I didn’t answer. Nor did I answer his phone call and voicemail at 2:00 this afternoon. Do we all remember the advice of my boss with respect to land deals? “If they’re not talking to you, they are making a deal with someone else.”

I think I’m done. I figure if I’m going to spend any time with a man, then he better try, all the time, consistently. Not up and down. Not only when he senses me inching away. Not only when he thinks I don’t need him anymore. Not only when he thinks he’s needed. It goes without saying that each person in any relationship, whether it’s a friendship, family member, or significant other, has to derive something from the union. Now, (Sara, pay attention) only when you stop getting what you need or want from it, and only when it stops being a two way street can you call the game over. For me, there’s no one who is immune to this simple equation, family included. I’ve been through so much with my family and we repaired the relationship despite the fact that it looked like we may never speak again. They only got a second chance with me because they are my parents. But, if they ever treat me again the way they have in the past, I can say goodbye and never look back.

Back to the situation at hand, ladies and gentlemen, I think this game with MotorcycleInstructor is over. At the very least, I’m certainly done playing. It’s just not fun anymore.

Last night around 5 a.m., I woke up to the sound of the garbage trucks. As I was trying to go back to sleep, I heard a woman moaning. I thought I was about to catch my neighbors in the act, but it was coming from outside. I got up and went to the balcony. There was a naked girl on the patio of the ice cream shop “Sweet Licks.” I couldn’t see who she was with because the patio is down a few stairs and encased with a brick wall so they were hidden, but I sure as shit kept watching. Then I got my flashlight and I tried to fuck with them, but they were too busy. All I hear is this moaning and I’m trying to figure out why they aren’t waking other people up too. This guy walked by, saw them, and stopped to stare. He walked away very slowly, turning around a bunch of times to look back.

Finally they finished and they were getting dressed, and when they both walked up the stairs to the sidewalk, it was two Asian girls. I was shocked. I had to call everyone to tell them today. PinkPantyLover said that my story changed the shape of his shorts. My boss said, “Those girls have promise.” They sure do.

Guess who called me at 5 a.m. to wake me up and say he was on his way over? Then guess who drove over here, unlocked my motorcycle, drove it to the inspection with me on the back, waited in a line that was 3 blocks long, went through the inspection, brought me home, locked the bike back up and recovered it for me all by 7:15 a.m.? Then guess who waited for me to get to my meeting in Silver Spring, met me at the meeting and gave me the parking pass I left in his car?

Have I reversed it? Are my charms kicking in again? I’m trying so desperately to be nice this time. After we said bye this morning he said, “Call me when you are out of your meeting” – a true clingy statement if I’ve ever heard one. And usually when he gives me those “Call me when…” directives, I purposely ignore them to show him whose boss. Everyone will be so shocked, I called him when I left that damn meeting. Just to show what kind of a cooperative girl I am.

My day starts off with a nice walk to the Fed Ex service center downtown with Sammy (the love of my life.) On my leisurly walk, the Harley dealer calls. They want me to get the bike out of there. So, I call my savior of the day, MotorcycleInstructor. He says he’ll call back in 5 minutes. And he does. When he calls back, he says, “Let’s go now.”

So I hustle home, drop Sammy off, and haul ass up to Gaithersburg. I meet MotorcycleInstructor there and this guy starts talking to me while MotorcycleInstructor is getting his helmet out of his car. Then he comes over to us and the guy goes, “Is this your husband?” I about died. I said, “No, thank God.” Shit, I should have said yes just to see what he would have done. So, he rides the bike back to D.C. to the inspection station. The line is out of control long, three blocks long, so we decide to leave and come back “another time.” We come back to my apartment and I make him a pizza and I eat a Zone bar. At this point, my brother calls and is asking questions about scooters and I end up just putting him on the phone with MotorcycleInstructor. While he’s talking to my brother, the dogs are sniffing for pizza and MotorcycleInstructor is like, “Get off my nuts! Damn!” I’m like, bright red at this point and I said, “Tell my BROTHER that you were not talking to me!!” So he clears that up.

Then MotorcycleInstructor and I leave and go back to Gaithersburg, but not before locking the bike up in the garage and him saying I need all this stuff and a different cover and a lock and he will get it all for me. So I stop at the bank and give him money and we go to the other cycle shop and he buys all the stuff for me at a massive discount. Then we go to Home Depot to buy a cable and locks. That mofo saved me so much money. I never would have thought to do that. By this time it’s about 7:00 and I’m totally wore out. We go to another dealer, look at choppers, then back to Harley so he can get his car. We say bye there and he says to call him later and we’ll do the inspection in the morning. I said, “What should I tell them here when I want to return the cover that I bought?” He says, “Tell them you didn’t know but your boyfriend bought you all this stuff already and you don’t need what you bought.” Uh. Boyfriend. Oh.

So I get home and my first order of business is to get some real food in my stomach. I grill some fish and plan to go out to the garage to tie up the bike and take care of that stuff. MotorcycleInstructor calls and asks if I had any problems. I said, “I’m headed out there now.” He goes, “You haven’t done it yet?” I said no because I had to come home, lean on the neighbors to watch Sammy (the love of my life) while I cook and run back out and that I’m doing it now. He says, “Do you know what you’re doing?” I said that I would figure it out and if I had any problems I would call him. He said, “Do you want me to just come there and do it for you?” I said he didn’t have to. He said he would be here in 10 minutes.

That man came back here and covered the bike, locked it, showed me everything, and met BestGuyFriend-M who came by to see the bike too. Then he left at 10:30 and he’s coming back here at 5 a.m. to take me to the inspection station, even though I said I could manage that part without freaking out. What the hell is going on right now?

Oh my Goodness. I have just had the best best best idea ever. I need feedback on this one. Does Washington D.C. need an all-girls rollerderby league??? Do any of my female readers have any interest in pursuing how to start this up with me? I am so damn excited with myself for this idea right now I can’t even sleep.

Come on! This could be awesome!!

I can’t take credit for this fab idea. They have this in Atlanta. How did I find that out you are wondering? Well, AtlantaBoy sent me an IM that I actually answered tonight. Something just told me that I should answer it. And I got this information from him about the Atlanta Rollergirls.

I also, a year and a half after the demise of our relationship, finally cried. I don’t cry a lot, but when I do, it’s bad. I guess I never thought I would be out in the dating world again going through this shit. I have no idea why I’m grieving now, and mourning the loss of a love so long after the end of the relationship. I think it has been slowly sneaking up on me. I’ve been dreaming about him a lot, and thinking about him, and comparing all these assholes to him, saying things like “AtlantaBoy for all his faults, would have never treated me like this.”

I will never love anyone again like I loved that man.

I think I’m sick of DamascusBoy. I’m bored with that situation already and we haven’t even officially gone on a date. Ugh. At this point, it has dragged on so long that I’ve lost interest. Surprise surprise. I have dating-A.D.D.

MotorcycleInstructor called this evening. In our conversation he mentioned some girl who called for information on taking his class. He said that she lived over by the bars on 18th & M. MotorcycleInstructor said that he might be able to get her into a class in the end of September, but he also might go to Vegas, so he isn’t sure. So she (allegedly) says to him, “Well, you should come hang out with me at Camelot.” For anyone who doesn’t know, Camelot is a strip bar. I think he was trying to get a rise out of me. So I come back with, “Baby, you should go.” He goes, “What? Why would I go?” I said, “For one, she might be the love of your life.” I was totally serious. Then he said, “Please, I have enough problems with you.” And I said, “What are you talking about?” And he said, “Well, your drinking and partying for one.” Oh. I was done talking at that point. Didn’t realize it pissed him off that much.

It sort of makes me feel like going out for a beer. Anyone with me?

Well, I got an email from yesterday’s trash, I mean, my date from last night. I’ll bold his emails so they are easier to read. He said:

hope i wasn’t too much for you last night…did i scare you away?

i did have a good time and hope you did too. i usually avoid talking politics…i don’t know what got into me yesterday.

my friend and i ended up in adams morgan (“saki”)…more drinks and a little dancing. you dance?
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I replied with this:

Thanks again for dinner. You didn’t have to do that. I’m more than happy to pay. I make more money than I can possibly spend.

I try to be honest, so here it is. You scared me away. I’m too laid back for you. You, my friend, are wound very tight.

I hate to think what you were like after more drinks
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And he writes back 4 minutes later:

i was fine. try not to judge someone the first time you meet them. it was awkward from the get-go…blind date and all. do you know what i mean?
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All right, my commentary. First, how could I not resist throwing that money comment in there? I know that was tacky and sinking to his level, but who cares. Second, he says to not judge someone the first time you meet them? What? Is he sitting in a room with the glue open? He spent the entire night last night judging anyone and everyone, most of whom he doesn’t even know.

I didn’t answer his email, needless to say. I don’t think there’s a need to. Now, in other news…

I had the MOST WONDERFUL day today. It involved very little human contact. I slept until 12, walked Sammy (the love of my life) then went to PotBelly for a tuna sandwich. Instead of going right back home, I walked down Connecticut Avenue and bought some books at Kramerbooks and some cards and a cute little retro clock at Proper Topper below the circle. It was so amazingly beautiful outside today, I left the cell at home and had a true hippie day. It felt so good to be outside without sweating, in Dupont Circle with all the musicians and people laying in the grass. I am IN LOVE with my dog and with Washington D.C.

Tonight, MotorcycleInstructor called. He was like, “Where’ve you been all day babe?” I said, “Huh? I sent you a text message last night.” He goes, “I know, at midnight, I was fast asleep.” I said, “I knew you had work stuff to do today, I didn’t want to bother you.” I think in light of my awful date last night, I appreciate this man even more right now. He told me he might have to go to Louisiana for 10 days to help out for Katrina. All the police are supposedly going to be sent.

I’m so glad I’m not a public servant because a humanitarian I am not. I like things like air conditioning and hair dryers. I really don’t want to have to go to a place like Louisiana, Mississippi or Alabama in their current flooded condition. I hated those three states before this catastrophe, so I certainly hate them more now. Although, I would go there to save the animals. That part sucks. Most people are assholes. But the animals, they don’t do anything but love.

Wow, I’m really a sandal wearing, tree hugging, animal loving, hippie today, aren’t?

Oh my goodness. I just had the date that rivals all dates for the title: Worst. Fucking. Date. Ever.

It was with my GreekWonder. Well, wonder no more. It’s after midnight and also just minutes after the end of our 3 hour date that was a total disaster. The funniest part of the night happened at the beginning – before I even met up with him. I was walking on R to Raku and as I crossed 18th, there was Jeff from match, making out with some girl. Huh. I guess he’s back from Bolivia. This should have told me what sort of night I was in for. I should have gone home right then. But nooooo, I kept going.

We met at Raku on 19th and Q. We got a table on the patio, right in the corner, where we could be seen by all. Before we even order our dinner, it gets uncomfortable. He starts telling me how this homeless guy asked him for money this morning, and it escalates into a whole political tirade where he’s saying (well, yelling) what assholes all republicans are and that he’ll “take any republican in here” as he defiantly looks around at everyone else on the patio to see if anyone is going to fight him. I am shrinking in my seat as he continues to talk about how stupid everyone in America is, how this country sucks (Fuck you dude, I love capitalism) and how he’s just in D.C. because there’s money to be made here. At least a dozen times I heard how he’s making $3000 a week and how he’s a “contract lawyer” because being a corporate guy is for the assholes who don’t want to make any money. (Hello benefits and 401k?) He berates all the public defenders and those who do pro bono work, saying they are a bunch of $10 an hour idiots. Then two guys walk by holding hands and he’s like, “Look at this, this is ridiculous, can you believe this? Oh sorry, you have gay friends.” (You moron, we’re in Dupont Circle! It was the gays that made this one time ghetto habitable for the rest of us yuppies.) His anger about everything was so intense and I was worried for my freaking safety. Don’t even get me started how he ordered some fucking vegetarian egg roll for me without asking. What year is it? 1955? Or how he mocked the waiter and said to his face that he was just hoping for a “good tip.” The golden rule of waiting tables is that the loud assholes who boast about being big tippers are usually not. Then comes the gem of the night…

I asked him if he has to keep a timesheet or punch a clock or whatever at work. He says, “I don’t punch a fucking clock. What do you take me for? Some construction worker?” I said, “Uh, I’M A FUCKING CONSTRUCTION WORKER.” He goes, “Oh, sorry….well, you’re not out on site or anything.” And I said, “Yes I am.” Of course I know this is only the half truth, but, I feel like picking a fight at this point, two hours into a conversation that only has one contributing member: HIM. He tells me several times that everyone he works with is “fucking stupid” and that he’s so much smarter than everyone else. He won’t let me talk, interrupts me when I talk and it’s basically a nightmare. So all I can think is that now I understand why he dates 20 year olds – because they are impressed with him. I’m not. He is 33 going on 18. His comments about making $3000 a week are a pure joke to me because I’m damn near close to making that myself. (And I don’t work 100 hours a week for it either.) I’m no au pair or whatever the hell he’s used to wining, dining and screwing. This man is proof positive that no amount of money can buy you class.

When he ordered his third sake he was pouring it in his glass and totally missed and poured it all over the table. Our waiter said, “WHOA, you’re not driving are you?” It was too too funny that our little waiter, Ming, put this pompous ass in his place.

Then his friend shows up. His friend was a cool dude, and I liked him, he had a neat sense of style, very European, very cool acting. But young and skinnier than me, so don’t get the wrong idea. Anyway, his friend helped cool the tension down a little. They started talking about church and how they haven’t been in a while. I couldn’t resist. I said, “Didn’t you just spend 10 minutes slamming all republicans and the religious right and you’re one of them?” He said he goes to church for peace. My response is “Well, you are very angry so that peace thing isn’t working and by the way, smart people who can think for themselves don’t need a church to tell them what to think.” This slam would have had much better impact if he actually listened to anything anyone else says, but he is a pompous, arrogant baby and he either didn’t hear me or didn’t respond. At one point, near the end of this disaster, we were discussing laser surgery. GreekWonder said “So, you can see me now?” And I said, “Yes, and unfortunately I can also hear you.” He laughed. I love how I can rip on someone and they think I’m just kidding. Asshole.

Then he says, “We’re going to go to my apartment and get a drink. Then we’ll go to Adam’s Morgan.” I said, “The hell we are. Who do you think I am? Natalee Holloway? I’m not going anywhere with you two so that my family can see CNN preempt the Hurricane Katrina coverage tomorrow to talk about some D.C. girl who went missing.” He was like, “You’re funny.” Then I excused myself to go to the bathroom. And I sent my neighbor a text message that said, “GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE.” I was half kidding because I could have found a way out, but that girl – Always thinking. She called when I was back at the table and said Sammy (the love of my life) was “freaking out” and she didn’t know what to do. GreekWonder is talking in Greek to his friend and I just know he’s saying that “this bitch is getting a bail out call” but I can’t prove it because I can’t speak God Damned Greek and at this point I really don’t care anyway. So I hang up and GreekWonder says, “So what’s up?” And I’m practically laughing as I tell him I have to go tend to my dog. He paid the bill (woo hoo, although I would have paid to get him out of my sight and out of my life) and we walk to the sidewalk. He’s like, “We’ll walk you home and go to your house.” I said “No, do I look like I was born yesterday?” So we parted ways at 19th and Q, and he said he would email me tomorrow. No I didn’t kiss him. I couldn’t run home in 4 inch heels fast enough.

This all leads me to one conclusion. Before every date, I get all dressed nice, and feel pretty good about how I look, and I think that I won’t measure up to “his” standards – like, he’s so good looking and I’m not pretty enough or skinny enough or young enough. And you know what? “He,” whoever he may be, never measures up to mine. GreekWonder in all his arrogance and lack of class, BoyFace in his stupid shorts and disgusting studio apartment, the HornyHungarian with his octopus hands. Christ. What the hell!! No wonder I keep the company of gay men. They just get me. And I get them. There’s no guessing games.

A BIG THANK YOU to my all time favorite neighbor and friend, for the incredible bail out. Think of me as you lay snuggled in your bed with your man. And tell him he got the best damn woman and that she deserves at least 3 carats. Ok, maybe don’t tell him that.

I’m going to email this blog post to my parents. Maybe then, finally they will give up the idea of me dating or eek, marrying a Greek.

I’m going to start bringing mace on my dates. I might need it.

So sorry for no post yesterday. There wasn’t a lot to report as I was mostly comatose in my bed. Still not feeling up to par. Finally on my way to the doctor today. Hopefully I don’t have some debilitating disease or a brain tumor. Ugh. To have a day without dizziness and nausea would be fabulous.

Well, I made some late night progress with the GreekWonder from that networking website. He called me last night and we ended up having one of those marathon 4 hour conversations. I was up until 2. He sounds like a lot of fun. Of course the only thing I’m wondering is that he has a string of ex-girlfriends, all of whom seem to have hurt him in some way, and his last girlfriend, not yet an ex, moved back to Russia (???) and he doesn’t think he will ever see her again. Also, he seems to date really young girls. I find that suspicious. For a single man with no kids and no ex-wives, he has a lot of baggage in my eyes. We’re going out on Saturday, so we’ll see how it goes.

MotorcycleInstructor is back to calling me often enough and we’ve been having long conversations. Still not sure where it’s going, probably nowhere, but it will be fun while it lasts.

DamascusBoy is still in the picture too. I talked to him last night before the GreekWonder for an hour. I was really burning out the cell battery last night. When my neighbor came by to drop off Sammy (the love of my life) DamascusBoy heard voices in the background and he was like, “Who was that? One of your lovers you were kicking out of the house?” Funny how these men find ways to ask without asking the question: “Are you dating anyone else?” No one has directly asked me, so I don’t really have to say, now do I?