We'll call this boy"El Capitan," (E.C.) seeing as he spends much of his life sailing around the world.



Now there's not too much to report yet with me and the Cap'n. We went on our second date this week, during which I met a lively sampling of his friends (who all seemed quite taken with me if I do say so myself, perhaps even more than the Cap himself.)



I did feel rather flattered that on our second date he would introduce me to the crowd. It also speaks well of him that 1)he has friends [remember, I always fall in love with social misfits!], and 2) that they were friends of such a friendly sort - the kind who made an effort to include me in their conversations, asked questions about me, etc.



It was all strictly G-rated, though: after we parted way with his friends, the Cap acted a bit shy and distant - as if he thought I expected him to kiss me and he wasn't quite sure what to do about it. Now I would have kissed him back, but I certainly didn't expect it -- I really think the third date is the appropriate time and place for that.



When I e-mailed him the next day to thank him for the date, he expressed interest in seeing me again before I go away (six days and counting to Survivor: Family Vacation in Honduras, folks!). And to his clearly expressed interest, I say - yay!



This boy is smart, funny, literary, and adventurous to the extreme. Not in a mountain-climbing sort of way, but in a traveling-around-the-world, living-everywhere, sailing, and snowboarding kind of way. I have a feeling that if we ever got serious, I'd be whisked off on a sailboat live in some other part of the world. But I wouldn't mind. '



(Cause of course once I sell my book and become FAMOUS by making fun of all the men I've dated, I'll be able bring my laptop and live anywhere!)



Anyway, I jump the gun. As usual. Let's just say, as of today, things are looking up.



No doubt things will change tomorrow.



Oh and I'll get some new comments soon. Promise.

Well praise be. I met someone I actually kind of like. Who seems to like me back.

• Who doesn’t work with me.
• 
  
  
• Who’s more than 15 years old.
• 
  
  
• Who’s not in “crisis” mode.
• 
  
  
• Who appears not to be depressed.
• 
  
  
• Who I can actually imagine kissing.
• 
  
  
• Who has “oomph” and energy (due to third bullet point)
• 
  
  

Of course, it’s much too soon to tell anything. Anything is possible. He could be:

• Noncomittal
• 
  
  
• Sociopathic
• 
  
  
• A bad kisser
• 
  
  
• Secretly gay
• 
  
  

And believe me, I’ve dated people in all those categories. Plus, maybe I’ll decide:

• I’m not actually attracted to him
• 
  
  
• We’re not “intellectually compatible”
• 
  
  
• We’re not “sexually” compatible
• 
  
  
• We’re not compatible in any way
• 
  
  

But for now, heck, maybe I’m coming out of the slump. Could it be?



I’m seeing him again tomorrow, so tune in to see if I get my first base hit of the season.

(Note: I'm sorry to all you Breakup Babies who have been trying to post comments! If these don't start working again soon, I'll get a new system - promise).



OK so I'm in a dating slump. The best of us have them, right?



I keep throwing myself out there - albeit less desperately than before, thank you - only to meet with indifference. Or flat-out rejection.



Now this is only my glum perception. I can think of, oh, at least two boys who would be tres eager to date me (one of whom I'm actually considering, one of whom I'm not). So it's not true to say no one likes me.



But it's more fun and dramatic to say that, isn't it? And damn it, it just seems the boys aren't flocking the way they have in the past. (Or maybe I'm just so jaded I just don't even notice the flock, because I'm keeping my eyes fixed on the horizon for some colorful, fantastical bird that will never appear.)



I haven't lost my looks. YET. I'm the same old charming, sexy, sweet-talking, thing I've always been so WHATSAMATTA? What happened to that special something I used to have, that je ne sais quoi that had male admirers pouring into my office all day long?



Five letters. S-L-U-M-P.



I suppose if our greatest athletes have them, our greatest flirts can too.



I'm just ready for it to be O-V-E-R.

All right. Either my comments are not working or all my regulars have abandoned me because 1) they don't like me anymore or 2)they're annoyed that I never post comments on their sites even though they so generously always post on my own, but you know what?



THAT'S OK.



Becuase GalPal #1, who is extremely enlightened these days due to Yoga and meditation classes, told me not even to respond to Stud Athlete Software Boy.



In her infinite wisdom, she said, "I think a blase response - or no response at all -- is much more effective than something snide, because snide sounds like you cared and he doesn't deserve to hear that and it might provoke a snide response, which would not be good."



Fine. I was looking for a chance to be snide, but forget it. I'll take that opportunity with my loved ones when we all go to Honduras together in two weeks!



Yes folks, it's family VACATION time! It's the mom, it's the sisters, and it's the Super Brother In Law, all together for the first time in a foreign land - on that charming isle of Roatan (site of Temptation Island 3!)



And here's what we're dying to know: Will BB meet her first husband on Roatan, just like GalPal #2 did? Will BB and her mom fight nonstop about what tables to sit in at restaurants just like they did in Hawaii? Will L'il Sis get eaten by a giant squid? Will SBL survive psychologically unscathed? Will BB have to wear a floatie when she snorkels?



Answers to all these questions and more, coming up in a month, with the debut of that sizzling new reality show: Survivor: Family Vacation in Honduras!

Sharpen Those Quills



OK, Breakup Babies, here's your chance to shine.



I got a blow-off e-mail yesterday from, oh man, I can't even remember his acronym since we only went out once. Oh yes - Stud Athlete Software Boy (SASB)!



Anyway, SASB has ignored me since our one "date," a month ago, so I pretty much got the picture. BB is no dummy. But then, apparently, guilt overcame him so he sent me an e-mail which went on and on about how he'd been sick ("this morning woke up with my right eye gobbered shut"), travelling, skiing, etc. - and concluded thus:



"Looking ahead, I am not sure about having any time to get together in the near future, as much as I would like to. I think I have taken on a bit more than I can handle all ready and don’t want to spread myself much thinner."



He forgot to mention that he's been dating up a storm with other women, both from the online and offline worlds. (How do I know this? BB has her sources.)



So, do your part for humanity and help me come up with a clever, cutting, and oh-so-cool response that conveys just how lame it is to:

1. Write such a note one month after the fact
   
   
2. Make up such transparent excuses, and
   
   
3. How little I actually care

Now this is no easy task, but I'm sure you're up to it. The winner gets a coffee date with Breakup Babe (the latte is on me!) ! If you live too far away, well, how about a personal note from me and a featured link on my blog! I know these, prizes have you drooling with excitement. But contain yourselves and help me come up with a good response.



I'm counting on you.



Merci.

Boy. Are we in the middle of winter here or what? Around here, the sky plays variations on a theme of grey. Sometimes drizzle arrives to make things more oppressive. Or a sunbreak that blinds everyone and sends them scurrying back to their holes.



On occasion a rainstorm gets everyone all excited. Or a snowstorm that blankets the streets in a whole inch of snow, bringing the entire Puget Sound region to a halt. That’s fun for a couple days until you’re so sick of being housebound, you actually want to go back to work. At which point, all becomes grey again and you settle back into your routine like the little rat in the little dark maze that you are.



Winter in Seattle! Aren’t you glad you don’t live here?



Anyway, I’m sure you don’t want to hear my views on the weather. You want the goods. The good stuff. The lowdown. The latest. The scoop.



Well, here t’is.



NOTHING.



Well, that’s not strictly true. There are…things. But these days, I feel a bit, uh, circumscribed in what I can write about. Why? Oh, too many people who know people reading this here l’il blog (not that I’m not grateful for everyone one of you reading this and you know I’d give you a big kiss if you were here!)



So let’s see if I can be informative yet subtle.



There is a guy at work. Never EVER thought I would like this guy. But he’s grown on me. Big time. And he’s EA (emotionally available). As far as I can tell. Though perhaps I have an unconscious radar that picks out men who are EUA and maybe that’s why I’ve started to like him because my EAR (emotional availability radar) knows that in fact he’s EUA.



But we work together. Need I say more? And he’s EA. That scares the sh*t out of me.



Meanwhile, I continue to cast my eyes longingly at a variety of EUA men, including but not limited to that perennial dark horse SB – who himself is really only fond of EUA women - I just wish he would stop looking to the future for the answer and see that the present could be a whole lot better (and the winter a whole lot warmer) if he just looked right in front of his face –



And d*mn. Did you know it’s been four whole months since I’ve had s*x? No wonder I have that burning, yearning, feeling inside me, ooh deep inside me and it hurts so bad.



I need some love action, people. Big time. I don’t know how some people do it going months on end without it. Years, even. Me, my heart and my body are all lit up. And I feel it. Someone is finding there way towards me in the dark right



About



NOW.



Might take a while for him to find me. But he’s on his way. Meanwhile, I’ll just keep that fire burning, which shouldn’t be a problem because all of a sudden it is very damn HOT.



Ow!

Well. That something that was a little “off” with me? Turns out it was the flu.



It's been trying to get me since the beginning of the year, and now that it has, I’m hoping – that as for the fictional characters of yore – my death-defying illness will beget a transformation.



When I arise, weakened (and, one might hope, a few pounds thinner), from my sweat-drenched bedclothes, having faced raging fevers and daunting hallucinations, I will face my life with a grimmer, but more clear-eyed purpose.



I will not waste my time on those who don’t have energy for me. I will not take advantage of the kindness of those who have crushes on me. I will look for love in more unexpected places, and from the more unexpected people who show their shy faces like little flowers after a big spring rain. I will concentrate on doing nice things for the people who do nice things for me, and not try to earn anyone’s love.



And next time I have a fever of 102 degrees, I will not lock my keys inside the car and have to wait an hour for Triple A to come. I simply will not.

OK I am trying to come up with glamorous tidbits for you here – all about my Sex-in-Seattle lifestyle but gosh darn it if I have felt about as sexy as a banana slug lately. (No doubt there are people out there who have banana slug fetishes, and who will now find this site via a Google search on “banana slug fetish.” But we will assume they are the minority.)



It is true I am wearing a short tight dress today. With black boots. I do have eye makeup on. I blow dried my hair. Well, yesterday. Today it is as flat and greasy as a…hmm. Need a metaphor here? What food item is flat and greasy? Tortilla? No, not greasy enough. Pancake? No, clichéd. Potato chip?



Ok, forget it. Let's just move on.



Something is just a little bit off with me lately. Is it the weather? The endless gray, cold, rain, snow? The lack of heat in my apartment that forces me to go to bed wearing wearing a gigantic sweater over two layers of long underwear, complete with a balaclava and wool socks that date from the 70s?



In any case, the spark is gone people. I’m nothing but an empty sexless husk. Don’t expect any more tales of lust and derring-do from me.



At least this week.

The Not Quite Right Report for Monday, January 5

• No e-mail from cute boys
  
  
• Set my alarm for 7:30 but didn’t wake up until 9:30
  
  
• Didn’t get to write this morning
  
  
• Got to work at 11
  
  
• Recurrence of annoying “female trouble”
  
  
• Did I mention no e-mail from cute boys?
  
  

On the other hand,

• Did not gain weight over the holidays. How such a thing is possible I do not know unless possibly I have a horrible disease and am wasting away.
  
  
• I may yet get to play rock n’ roll before I die
  
  
• Have been at work seven whole hours (and actually worked at least two of those hours)
  
  
• Have eaten vegetables today
  
  

Now, don't get me wrong. Things are pretty good in the life of your favorite swinging single.



There is, however, just one tiny little thing bothering me.



Weekend mornings.



I mean, I just want someone to have breakfast with me. Is that so much to ask?



As for the other relationship stuff, well, I don't need it. Really. Although it would be nice to have someone take care of me when I'm sick. Oh, and someone to change my diapers when I'm old and incontinent. And someone to smother me with kisses, now and always.



But forget all that. I can't be too greedy, after all. It would be nice just to have someone to go to breakfast with (because God forbid I should ever keep any breakfast food in the house - that would be far too practical and economical.) Especially because my favorite breakfast place is this grungy vegan joint that is always packed with dredlocked hipsters hanging out in big groups, and 99.9% of the time I go there it is moi, toute seule.



And I don't mind it that much but I do mind it a little. Because weekend mornings are my sad and lonely time. The one time I would really like someone around to hold on to.



The rest of the time, well, I'm just a whiskey-swigging, karaoke-singing dynamo partying her childbearing years away.



Because who needs love when there' s so much shallow, meaningless fun to be had?

So what did I do at midnight last night, you ask?



I fell off a barstool. Yes, that's how my 2004 started folks.



I was so startled that it was midnight that, at the end of the countdown, when everyone else kissed and cheered and celebrated the start of a new year - I fell off my chair.



At least this was a source of entertainment to my new galpal JF. And at least I was so drunk that I didn't care too much that there was no one around for me to kiss.



But you tell me - is it a good sign that I started my year this way?



Not that we believe in signs, but if we did.



We can see it as a sign that my year is going to be really f*cking lame. We can see it as a sign that I need to grow up. Or we can see it as a sign that things are only going to get better for me in '04.



Happy New Year Breakup Babies - I hope your night was more propitious than mine!