Today Was a Pathetic Day



Saw Indie Rock Dad out running and missed him so much I then had to instant message him, which of course did not go well. He was all like oh yeah, I'm so happy, things are so great, the kid mentions you once in a while, maybe we should get together in like six months?



Hey, wait a minute - I'm happy too you freak with high cheekbones! I just forgot about it when I saw you, and when you seemed se freaking OVER me, unlike two months ago when you were practically begging to hang out with me!



Can you say P-A-T-H-E-T-I-C?



I keep putting off the sweetest boy ever, who e-mails me, asks me out, likes me sooo much, is so available, because I'm interested in people who DON'T LIKE ME. Can you say P-A-T-H-E-T-I-C?



Never mind the other thing, I was going to tell you about; it's too P-A-T-H-E-T-I-C!



Oh and things will get better tomorrow when me and Sexy-Blue-Eyed-Boy -- who gets to keep his acronym, and despite not being included in the Year in Review only because I like him so much BETTER than all those noncommittal ******** and I go to the karaoke superstore! Oh, and the best part of my PATHETIC day was getting drunk with him.



See, good things happen when you don't sleep with people.



Your PATHETIC friend, Breakup Babe, who will hopefully be not so PATHETIC tomorrow.



p.s. Bye Mom, I miss you, things weren't so PATHETIC when you were here.

You know, the problem with the love drug – like any drug -- is that once you get a little taste, you just want more.



Now I did my time in rehab in October and I’ll admit – it wasn’t pretty. But these last couple months, I’ve been clean and sober, and more creative than I’ve ever been in my life. When I fall into bed at night, I think “How nice to be alone.” Or, “How would I ever have time for a boyfriend?”



Yeah, I know, the lust thing has been creeping up on me. But that’s still under control for the moment. The Magic Wand lives up to its name.



But it’s the affection thing that gets me. That’s the addictive part of the love drug. Once I get a little taste of that I’m like a dog begging to be let in. My mind gets addled. I replay things over and over in my head. Was it really affection? Or was it lust disguised as affection? What did it mean? Anything? And most importantly, how can I get more?



It was a bad idea to fall off the wagon, like that, I know it. I can get back on it, if I have to. It’s a whole lot safer up there anyway, don’t you think?



Especially with my taste in men.

A special fan of mine asked if I would do a Breakup Babe Year in Review-type deal to add even more merriment to your holiday season.



And since I would do almost anything for my fans, including sleep with them (read on and see if you can figure out upon whom I bestowed that honor!) - I agreed.



We'll start with a general recap of the year in men, and maybe I'll do a few more of these before the year is over, 'cause God knows I won't be doing much else.



After this I will be offline (gasp!) for four days but I'll be thinking of you all.



And here we go! In chronological order.



Silent But Deadly Boy (January)

Pro: supremely well-endowed

Con: noncommittal



Sexy Boy (January)

Pro: smart, articulate, good kisser, good friend

Con: talks too much, noncommittal



The Doctor (January)

Pro: gorgeous, Ivy-league educated, karaoke devotee

Con: obnoxious, self-centered, noncommittal



Pierced Political Boy (February-March)

Pro: hot, smart, passionate, politically engaged

Con: anger management issues, noncommittal



Mr. Millionaire Boy (March)

Pro: owned condos in Whistler

Con: terminally annoying



Cute Train Boy (April-May)

Pro: charming, laid back

Con: a self-proclaimed "recluse," noncommittal



Alt-Country Boy (May)

Pro: sexy, flirtatious, sweet

Con: noncommital doesn't even describe it



Charming but Goofy Lawyer Boy (June)

Pro: fun, funny, not afraid of committment

Con: bad kisser



Indie Rock Dad (June - September)

Pro: Knife-edged cheekbones, outdoorsy, used the "L" word

Con: crazy, noncommittal (despite using the "L" word)



Friendster Boy (November - now)

Pro: mature, hip, not afraid of committment

Con: no chemistry



Melancholy Hipster Boy (November - now)

Pro: heartbreaking smile, friendly, Leo

Con: stuck, self-absorbed, noncommittal



Stud Athlete Software Boy (last week)

Pro: the current only hope for the future of the Breakup Babe line

Con: I don't know, I've only met him once, but if I had to guess, noncommittal



Sexy Boy (last night)

See above

All right folks, it’s been a little while. And you know how I can tell this?



As a work event, our group went to see Lord of the Rings yesterday (yes, there are benefits to working at the largest software company in the world) and despite my halfhearted objection to all that violence, I noticed something a little funny going on.



I started getting a little hot and bothered by all those long, hard, flaming, uh, swords and stuff.



You know things are dire when a flaming sword turns you on.



And you know when things are dire you tend to make bad choices.



Unfortunately, there are no good choices to be made out there right now unless Stud Athlete Software Boy (SASB) asks me out again after the holidays (can you believe I have to wait that long?), or if Sexy Boy (SB) decides he might want to experiment with more than a New Year's fling.



Melancholy Hipster Boy continues to be cute but emotionally unavailable, despite the fact that he constantly invites me over for spaghetti. From what I can tell his sword is long, but a little limp at this time.



And Friendster Boy - the best prospect of them all - well, I'm just not attracted to him, though I've tried, believe me, I've tried. And his sword may be very nice for all I know, I’m just not tempted to pull it out of its sheath.



So as we plunge the holidays, I have this wish for all of you: I hope you are getting more flaming sword action than me. And if you are - enjoy it please! But don't forget about those less fortunate than you.

So, yesterday I indulged myself and bought a very cute alpaca hat. After all, I am wearing hats even more than usual now, due to my bad 80s haircut. (And no, Lotus, I haven't started wearing my retainer or leg warmers again - although I did have some hip purple sparkly ones back in the day!)



This hat was 40 bucks, which is way too expensive for a hat -- especially because I'll probably lose it. Not to mention, it's from Peru, which means that it would have cost me, oh, $5-$10 if I bought it in Peru - maybe even less!



But, after beating myself up over this purchase, I decided to look at it this way instead: A plane ticket to Peru would probably cost about $800. So really, I've actually saved myself at least $760 on this hat (and really, more, if you count all the the lodging and traveling costs I would have to pay in Peru!)



Now that's a pretty substantial savings, if I do say so myself.

So. Let’s see. What can I tell you?



Oh yes! I mentioned last time, with a world-weary sigh and a cynical roll of the eyes, yet another blind date I was about to embark on.



But this boy, people, was all he was cracked up to be. Hot, smart, witty, successful.



It was only a lunch date, so there was no XXX action (not that I do that kind of thing on the first date – what do you take me for anyway?), but of all the myriad men I’ve met lately he’s about the only one who could get my heart rate up above 60.



Well, we all know Melancholy Hipster Boy had me going for a while, with that hand up the pants leg maneuver, and that dashing, playful grin.



And I have to admit, even though he’s a post breakup basket case, it’s still a thrill for me that he likes me (as much as a post breakup basket case can.)That he calls me up and e-mails me and invites me over to dinner. And I’m actually being patient. Not worrying. Not caring. Not calling him. Just letting him find his own way, while I search for more promising prospects elsewhere.



Tres well adjusted, don’t you think?



But, aside from MHB, who is beautiful but broken, in that sea of setups out there is not a man who has gotten me excited til now. (Therein lies my problem, I’m sure, that excitement is the number one thing I look for but hey – if it weren’t for my adrenalin addiction, there would be no blog, OK?)



Anyway, Stud Athlete Software Boy, as we’ll call him (I apologize, but the well is running dry on these acronyms), is off in Europe on business and then back to Spokane for the holidays so no chance for any XXX action – I mean, good conversation, any time soon. But let’s hope for a little post-holiday doings, shall we?



Meanwhile, Sexy Boy has suggested more than once that we reprise our New Year’s fling of last year. I am leaning towards it, but the problem is I actually like him. Again. Or rather, still. Even after all the annoyances of last year. But his mind is elsewhere. Not sure where, exactly, but not on me. Except, maybe when he thinks about New Year’s Eve.



Finally, I am touched that you are all so certain of the blockbuster potential of my little book! There are a few problems, though. The only way I got that draft done was to go to bed early every single night and get up early every morning, which is not very conducive to an XXX social life. I can live with that in order to get the next draft done, but can you?



Not to mention, I now have to practice keyboards in the evening to prepare for my second career as token sexy girl in my latest favorite band.



But once I’m in a band I’ll have to stay up late, and then, of course, there are all those cute groupies I’ll be meeting, so it will be hard to get my writing done. But the rock star thing is a practical alternative if the bestselling author thing doesn’t work out, don’t you think?



This is all probably moot anyway, because I just got a haircut that makes me look like I did in 1982. We’re talking big, heavy bangs that fluff up like a helmet around my head. So maybe the boys will just leave me alone for a while.

Well, so far, all I want to do in December, in this order, is swaddle myself in warm but unflattering sweaters, sleep, and read bestsellers.



Note that these urges do not include s*x or exercise. Or buying gifts, or continuing to work on the fluffy little book I wrote in November.



Oh yes, did I mention I wrote a book in November? Oui. Breakup Babe, the novel, if you will. Perhaps that’s why I’m feeling so lethargic this month. Anyway, all your favorite characters are there: The Doctor (remember him?), Silent But Deadly Boy, the L’il Rocklimbing Spy. And ME!



You too - O Gentle Readers – you’re in the book too! Because what would a novel about blogging be without the fellow bloggers who function like a Greek chorus for my tragicomic dating life. “Stay away from that one!” you warn. “Ohhh, go for that one even though he’s only 19!” you exclaim, trying to live vicariously through me (don’t tell me you don’t!). “BB, you’re brilliant! Beautiful!” you cry, stoking my ever-needy ego.



But back to the subject at hand. December. I have to say that despite my (relative) lack of interest in dating, I have been the victim of one set-up after another this month. Though I’ve stuffed that biological clock under my pillow, my friends must hear it ticking loud and clear – TICK TOCK! – and the sound, apparently, is torturing them, because they won’t let me alone.



“Ohh BB, you must meet Mergatroid! He is catatonic and lost all his limbs in a plane crash and is really nothing more than a head on a platter but I think you’d have a lot in common!” Etc.



So far they’ve come up with Melancholy Hipster Boy, who, yes, I continue to hang out with because of his good cheekbones, listening to tales of woe about his ex-girlfriend and his career crisis.



Then there was another set up - Morose Literary Boy -- who impressed me by asking me out to dinner promptly after our first meeting, then unimpressed me by canceling because he had a “head cold.” As if I’m gonna wait around for his a*s.



And there will be yet another one tomorrow. A setup from the boytoy of GalPal #1 – supposedly “good-looking, very funny, and a stud athlete.” Yeah right.



I suppose I shouldn’t complain. When I’m in the nursing home, old and alone, no doubt I’ll be torturing my companions with tales of my wild youth. All the upstanding young men who wanted to date me, and all the messed up men I turned them down for.



So just let me say I am grateful to all my friends who are setting me up left and right!



Even if I would rather be in bed with a bestseller, wearing a warm but unflattering sweater.

I am really and truly f*cked for eternity.



Are you a nice boy? Happy in your life? Well-adusted? Securely employed? Then don’t waste your time with me.



However, are you one of the following?

• Obsessed with your ex-girlfriend?
  
  
• In serious need of antidepressants?
  
  
• Stuck in a career crisis?
  
  
• Possessed of stunning cheekbones or bedroom eyes?
  
  
• Otherwise emotionally unavailable (i.e. married, in a serious relationship, in a mental institution)?
  
  

Then apply within for a position as one of UnBoyfriends ™! You’ll be one of many, but why should you care? You can’t commit anyway.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not a monster. I can be very tenderhearted and caring, when not mocking the size of my ex’s male members online.



That’s why I do feel a twinge of regret when exes stumble onto this site? Not only because they now get to follow every twist and turn of my love life (if they’re obsessive compulsive, as they often are), but because it’s not nice to be publicly savaged.



I myself would probably hide under my bed indefinitely if I read equivalent comments about myself (Dear exes, if you start a blog, please don’t tell me. No one else tell me about it either).



Anyway, the other night after receiving e-mail from the big L (a surprisingly non-angry, and at at times, loving note, but more on that some other time), I had a dream that I was a cold-blooded murderer who turned myself in because I knew I was a danger to society. In other words, I dreamed I was a monster.



The question is – am I? Do I need to stop all this boy bashing? I know you get endless hours of entertainment from it, but be honest with me – it’s not really nice is it? Yeah, yeah, I know they deserve it. But what about that "two wrongs don't make a right" thing?



God, listen to me! Church Lady here! Boooooooooring.



All right, then, the news you’ve all been waiting for. *Boy News!* *Boy News*



Ummm.



I’m tired of boys.



Oh wait, that’s not what you want to hear, is it?



God, you people are such vultures. Nice ones, of course.



OK, let’s see. Went on yet another blind lunch date yesterday. Despite the guy being big, burly, and bearded – I usually go for the quicksilvery, medium-build, dark-haired ones - I was quasi-attracted to him and his literary ways.



He gets bonus points for sending me an e-mail immediately after lunch asking me out for Friday night. Yay, straightforward dating behavior! Had to turn him down, naturally, but we’re now going out on Monday night. I’d rather go to bed early with a glass of red wine, but c’est la vie.



In other non-news, Melancholy Hipster Boy and I are cat-and-mousing, an empty, though at times, entertaining pastime when one is bored at work.



Frienster Boy and I are being very friendly – though not quite to the level of Friends Plus – but I don’t doubt that he might stop being quite so friendly with me if I don’t do some plussing soon. He’s throwing a gigantic party this Saturday, which will no doubt be distracting if not truly entertaining.



Note to self: Avoid monster-like behavior of early spring when I ditched one boy for another at Boy #1s birthday party, and ended up with neither one of them plus eternal guilt.

Egads. Ex-boyfriends are finding this site in droves.



At least they have the courtesy not to air our dirty laundry in the comments section, unlike one ex-boyfriend who shall remain nameless. (Only a few of you were lucky enough to see that post before I yanked it off the site).



Anyway, I shall perservere. I have been quite circumspect lately, in my latest dating phase, not to mention the existence of ye olde blog to my potential suitors. They'll probably all find it anyway, but at least the drama will be delayed for a while.



Not that I don't like drama. Why else would I still be in the arena with such an ineligible cutie-pie like Melancholy Hipster Boy?



And why else would I have told my best prospect, Friendster Boy, that I just want to be friends? (And, as A.B. suggested, could someone please start a site called Boyfriendster?)



All right. My brain is clearly dead. Too much novel writing, turkey and pecan-pie eating in the month of November and not enough s*x.



Not that I care, of course. Because I live only for my Art now. But still.