Egads. At least I can say this much. Things are never boring around here. At least not for more than an hour at a time, at which point I can't stand it anymore and I make something dramatic happen.
This weekend for example. The Jewish Ski God. He's coming up here from Salem, Oregon. Tonight! In five hours.
Jesus. I'm already hung over and sleep-deprived and now I have to entertain a perfect stranger for the weekend. God, I hope he's cute.
Friday, February 27, 2004
Wednesday, February 25, 2004
Sigh.
I am having re-entry issues.
I am still jet-lagged.
Work feels like a straitjacket.
Boys make me anxious.
My tan is going to fade.
On the upside, I found a tres promising prospect (handsome! Jewish! outdoorsy! fun!) on GreatBoyfriends.com, who lives only, oh, a few hundred miles away in Salem, Oregon. But that is not too far for my WOMB, people. She is on the march! So stay tuned for news on this hot, tele-skiing, soon-to-be lawyer because it seemed like he might be easily persuaded to come for a Seattle visit!
And I think I'm going to need him soon because, despite all my intentions to wait for the Captain to ask me out next, what did I do but send him a casual l'il email asking him if he wanted to hang out again soon. (Keep in mind, he did e-mail me earlier in the week to say "hi," though no date invitations, naturally, were forthcoming) But am I patient enough for such a thing? NO? And did we not agree that we would hang out about once a week? YES?
And what did he say in his e-mail! Oh, of course, I'd love to hang out with you soon you brilliant, adorable babe! How about this Saturday night?
Try again.
OK, how about something like this (abridged version): "I have a pain in my face and I have to go to the doctor."
Well. A pain in one's face is a terrible thing to have and I am very sympathetic. No doubt I would be going out of my mind with worry if I had a pain in my face. Why I'd probably think it was a brain tumor and demand to be given a CAT scan toute de suite! But still. He might have responded to my invitation, MIGHT HE NOT HAVE?
It?s all resolved now, because when I asked him AGAIN about hanging out this weekend (who me, pushy?), he said oh, yes, let's. Now if this were just a friend I wouldn?t give a rat's a** about asking twice (or once!) but with a commitmentphobic man, well, playing hard to get is probably what?s best, but we all know is utterly incapable of playing hard to get when she's actually into someone.
But f*ck it. It's all going to work out how it's going to work out anyway, so there.
Plus, there's the Jewish ski god, not to mention the Benjamin Bratt lookalike architect in San Franciso. Yeah, I know. Believe me, I do not want to move back to San Francisco. But if my womb could find a rich, handsome husband who would buy her a house in Pacific Heights or North Beach, she just might do it.
And I might not be able to stop her.
I am having re-entry issues.
I am still jet-lagged.
Work feels like a straitjacket.
Boys make me anxious.
My tan is going to fade.
On the upside, I found a tres promising prospect (handsome! Jewish! outdoorsy! fun!) on GreatBoyfriends.com, who lives only, oh, a few hundred miles away in Salem, Oregon. But that is not too far for my WOMB, people. She is on the march! So stay tuned for news on this hot, tele-skiing, soon-to-be lawyer because it seemed like he might be easily persuaded to come for a Seattle visit!
And I think I'm going to need him soon because, despite all my intentions to wait for the Captain to ask me out next, what did I do but send him a casual l'il email asking him if he wanted to hang out again soon. (Keep in mind, he did e-mail me earlier in the week to say "hi," though no date invitations, naturally, were forthcoming) But am I patient enough for such a thing? NO? And did we not agree that we would hang out about once a week? YES?
And what did he say in his e-mail! Oh, of course, I'd love to hang out with you soon you brilliant, adorable babe! How about this Saturday night?
Try again.
OK, how about something like this (abridged version): "I have a pain in my face and I have to go to the doctor."
Well. A pain in one's face is a terrible thing to have and I am very sympathetic. No doubt I would be going out of my mind with worry if I had a pain in my face. Why I'd probably think it was a brain tumor and demand to be given a CAT scan toute de suite! But still. He might have responded to my invitation, MIGHT HE NOT HAVE?
It?s all resolved now, because when I asked him AGAIN about hanging out this weekend (who me, pushy?), he said oh, yes, let's. Now if this were just a friend I wouldn?t give a rat's a** about asking twice (or once!) but with a commitmentphobic man, well, playing hard to get is probably what?s best, but we all know is utterly incapable of playing hard to get when she's actually into someone.
But f*ck it. It's all going to work out how it's going to work out anyway, so there.
Plus, there's the Jewish ski god, not to mention the Benjamin Bratt lookalike architect in San Franciso. Yeah, I know. Believe me, I do not want to move back to San Francisco. But if my womb could find a rich, handsome husband who would buy her a house in Pacific Heights or North Beach, she just might do it.
And I might not be able to stop her.
Monday, February 23, 2004
All right. I know that by know you've probably been through rehab to get over your BB addiction. You've gone through the DTs, the nightmares. And you've finally forgotten all about me and my little tragicomic romantic adventures that go NOWHERE except into bittersweet morsels to satisfy you, my rabid audience.
But guess what? I'm BACK.
And you better get ready for another bout of thrills and chills because things are on the move.
Yes! For once, yours truly has a prospect. A smart, sexy, adventurous prospect (in fact, almost as smart and sexy as me, and probably even more adventurous).
One with committment issues, of course. Because a BB love object without committment issues would just not make good copy. And so, because I am dedicated to bringing you the best in romantic angst I simply refuse to hook up with someone who would make life too easy for me and too boring for you.
Enough with the preamble.
El Capitan, you remember him? The one who invited me to run off with him to live in some exotic locale on our third date? On Saturday we had an eight-hour date that included, brunch, a walk along the waterfront, cocktails at a swank French restaurant, a rather serious makeout session, which prompted the ultimate compliment from The Captain, that I was a a "spectacular" kisser (swoon.)
There were, also, for better or worse, Conversations.
Conversation #1: Yes, he's looking for a serious relationship and yes, he wants to get married and have kids. Whoohoo!
BUT.
This is a man who has not had a "serious" relationship since college. This is a man who goes on one or two dates at the most and then moves on, because he's overly idealistic and commitment-shy (my interpretation, not his). This is a man who's spent most of his life roaming the world, never staying in one place for very long - though coming back to Seattle every time.
This is a man who, since we met, has been scuttling towards and away from me like a nervous little crab (though not in a way that is as seriously worrisome as that tortured mass of contradictions known as Indie Rock Dad).
And so, while it is delightful and refreshing that he claims to be ready for a serious relationship, it is also not surprising that -- for now (Conversation #2) -- he wants to be open to dating other people before dating me exclusively.
This annoys BB. Because BB is a glittering prize who deserves to be JUMPED on, literally and figuratively, and who has little patience for these cold-blooded northern types who not only don't wear their hearts on their sleeves, but who pad them in so many layers of bubble wrap you can hardly even hear them beating, even when your ear is pressed against their (rather hairy) chest (s).
Please. Give me an overly-romantic Latino boy or a hot-blooded, woman-worshipping Eastern European man any day!
But. Because BB likes this boy; because this just could be a moment when the timing is actually right, BB is willing to sweat this out for a month or two given that The Cap'n behaves, and lavishes me with the attention I deserve.
I have a good feeling about this boy, people.
But I'm also not stupid. I know that old patterns are had to break, and even though The Cap'n seems to realize I am special and worth it, perhaps, for him to take a chance on, I'm not placing any bets on the fact that I'm the one who might change his free-spirited ways, no matter how much he claims he's ready to change.
Meanwhile, I'll keep my eyes open for a hot-blooded type.
And oh, did I mention I found The Cap'n on GreatBoyfriends.com? After months of procrastinating, I finally took the plunge because GalPal #2 -- mother of adorable redheaded twins -- found a fabulous man here not ten months ago, and they are now MARRIED.
Even if we don't get married, it's now worth the $20 I paid for it because of the hot makeout action I've gotten. And girls, if you post an ad for a guy friend of yours - it's free for you!
Signing off, because you're no doubt sick of me by now,
xo
BB
But guess what? I'm BACK.
And you better get ready for another bout of thrills and chills because things are on the move.
Yes! For once, yours truly has a prospect. A smart, sexy, adventurous prospect (in fact, almost as smart and sexy as me, and probably even more adventurous).
One with committment issues, of course. Because a BB love object without committment issues would just not make good copy. And so, because I am dedicated to bringing you the best in romantic angst I simply refuse to hook up with someone who would make life too easy for me and too boring for you.
Enough with the preamble.
El Capitan, you remember him? The one who invited me to run off with him to live in some exotic locale on our third date? On Saturday we had an eight-hour date that included, brunch, a walk along the waterfront, cocktails at a swank French restaurant, a rather serious makeout session, which prompted the ultimate compliment from The Captain, that I was a a "spectacular" kisser (swoon.)
There were, also, for better or worse, Conversations.
Conversation #1: Yes, he's looking for a serious relationship and yes, he wants to get married and have kids. Whoohoo!
BUT.
This is a man who has not had a "serious" relationship since college. This is a man who goes on one or two dates at the most and then moves on, because he's overly idealistic and commitment-shy (my interpretation, not his). This is a man who's spent most of his life roaming the world, never staying in one place for very long - though coming back to Seattle every time.
This is a man who, since we met, has been scuttling towards and away from me like a nervous little crab (though not in a way that is as seriously worrisome as that tortured mass of contradictions known as Indie Rock Dad).
And so, while it is delightful and refreshing that he claims to be ready for a serious relationship, it is also not surprising that -- for now (Conversation #2) -- he wants to be open to dating other people before dating me exclusively.
This annoys BB. Because BB is a glittering prize who deserves to be JUMPED on, literally and figuratively, and who has little patience for these cold-blooded northern types who not only don't wear their hearts on their sleeves, but who pad them in so many layers of bubble wrap you can hardly even hear them beating, even when your ear is pressed against their (rather hairy) chest (s).
Please. Give me an overly-romantic Latino boy or a hot-blooded, woman-worshipping Eastern European man any day!
But. Because BB likes this boy; because this just could be a moment when the timing is actually right, BB is willing to sweat this out for a month or two given that The Cap'n behaves, and lavishes me with the attention I deserve.
I have a good feeling about this boy, people.
But I'm also not stupid. I know that old patterns are had to break, and even though The Cap'n seems to realize I am special and worth it, perhaps, for him to take a chance on, I'm not placing any bets on the fact that I'm the one who might change his free-spirited ways, no matter how much he claims he's ready to change.
Meanwhile, I'll keep my eyes open for a hot-blooded type.
And oh, did I mention I found The Cap'n on GreatBoyfriends.com? After months of procrastinating, I finally took the plunge because GalPal #2 -- mother of adorable redheaded twins -- found a fabulous man here not ten months ago, and they are now MARRIED.
Even if we don't get married, it's now worth the $20 I paid for it because of the hot makeout action I've gotten. And girls, if you post an ad for a guy friend of yours - it's free for you!
Signing off, because you're no doubt sick of me by now,
xo
BB
Friday, February 20, 2004
Hear ye, hear ye, I am alive!
I am tan; I am relaxed. I am also out of medication so my relaxation will last exactly 13.45 hours more unless I hightail my still-white butt to the pharmacy and get a refill on my five hundred prescriptions soon.
But anyway. What to tell you? Do I start with all the hot-blooded sexy Latino men who swarmed me at the resort? (Never mind that I was the only single muchacha there, not to mention the only muchacha under 300 pounds.)
Or perhaps with the time I fell in the river and almost got swept into the Honduran jungle, never to be seen again (destroying my digital camera in the process)?
Or what about the day I almost killed someone in order to get coffee?
Maybe I should start instead with my close encounter with a barracuda? Or my plane ride back through a thunderstorm?
But I still haven’t filled you in on the latest with The Captain (not to be confused with The Captain II, who I met in Honduras).
I don’t know where to start. So maybe I’ll just wait til tomorrow. One has to transition slowly back from vacation, oui?
I am tan; I am relaxed. I am also out of medication so my relaxation will last exactly 13.45 hours more unless I hightail my still-white butt to the pharmacy and get a refill on my five hundred prescriptions soon.
But anyway. What to tell you? Do I start with all the hot-blooded sexy Latino men who swarmed me at the resort? (Never mind that I was the only single muchacha there, not to mention the only muchacha under 300 pounds.)
Or perhaps with the time I fell in the river and almost got swept into the Honduran jungle, never to be seen again (destroying my digital camera in the process)?
Or what about the day I almost killed someone in order to get coffee?
Maybe I should start instead with my close encounter with a barracuda? Or my plane ride back through a thunderstorm?
But I still haven’t filled you in on the latest with The Captain (not to be confused with The Captain II, who I met in Honduras).
I don’t know where to start. So maybe I’ll just wait til tomorrow. One has to transition slowly back from vacation, oui?
Sunday, February 1, 2004
[Breakup Babe will be on vacation from February 5 to Febrary 19. Please try to contain your grief, and remember, absence makes the heart grow fonder!]
Well. You know how I said last time that if I ever got involved with The Captain, he would probably whisk me off to some other part of the world in a sailboat?
Yeah, well I was right about that, except I didn't think he'd ask me to run away with him on the THIRD DATE.
Ahem.
Between bites of bad sushi last last night (that sped by us on a conveyor belt, therefore making up in kitsch value what it lacked in flavor) I asked him, oh-so-casually, "So where's your next big trip?"
Subtext: How long are you really going to be around, mister?
His oh-so-casual response: "I don't know -- where to you want to go?"
"Oh, I don't know...Mexico? Africa? Norway?" A little thrill runs through me. So he does like me. But this is just a game, right? And I play it for a while, reeling off names of places that I'd like to travel to. Then we move on to other topics, then he brings it back.
"So, maybe we should just run away for six months." He's looking right at me with those blue eyes. I look down at my lukewarm tempura.
"I'm serious," he says. "Have you ever heard of the Intercoastal Waterway? We could buy a boat and sail it. Haven't you ever just wanted to take off somewhere, hang out, and finish your book."
Yeah, but I figured I'd do it...when? When I get an actual book contract? When I'm married? When...I don't know. I keep talking about how I want to go live somewhere else for a while, but when do I actually plan to do it?
"Umm," I say, unable to stop myself from smiling. How long have I looked for Mr. Super Adventure? But isn't he taking this a bit far? We haven't even kissed yet! I look up at him.
"What about my job?," I ask.
"You could quit your job. Just get another one when you get back." He's still looking straight at me, his gaze unwavering.
"Yeah..." My brain is reeling. I think of quitting my job. How can I quit my job? I've only had a steady job for a year and a half now and I I love the money and the fact that I can do all sorts of things with worrying about my finances, and that I can work my job around my writing schedule. I like my job. Is that boring? But I love adventure too.
"Anyway," I say, taking a sip of my Mojito, which I realize now is not nearly strong enough, "I can't run away with you, I just met you."
He just laughs at that and shrugs a little. "It'll work out somehow," he says, then goes back to his sushi.
Later, after we've actually kissed (mmmm), I say, "How do you know I would make a good travel partner anyway?"
"I knew it from the first time we met."
Is he insane? Just possibly?
Or maybe he just wants my money to help him buy a boat, and then he'll ditch me somewhere along the way?
Or maybe he's a crazy romantic who does really think he's found his match and maybe he has and maybe everything is going to change, and soon I'll be writing the blog from a sailboat on the Intercoastal Waterway.
Or maybe nothing will change and this will be just a bizarre blip in my dating history, a funny story for the blog. Or maybe we will fall in love and some kind of compromise will be reached.
First, however, I have to survive Survivor: Family Vacation in Honduras, which will require me to take no less than five different flights to reach my destination, and once there to battle malarial mosquitos and Dengue Fever and typhoid and bandits, and sharing a room with my mom, and learning to scuba dive, so it's unlikely I'll make it back alive anyway.
If I do, I'll be back on February 19, so if you don't hear from me before then, DON'T WORRY. If you don't hear from me after that, THEN you can worry.
xo,
BB
Well. You know how I said last time that if I ever got involved with The Captain, he would probably whisk me off to some other part of the world in a sailboat?
Yeah, well I was right about that, except I didn't think he'd ask me to run away with him on the THIRD DATE.
Ahem.
Between bites of bad sushi last last night (that sped by us on a conveyor belt, therefore making up in kitsch value what it lacked in flavor) I asked him, oh-so-casually, "So where's your next big trip?"
Subtext: How long are you really going to be around, mister?
His oh-so-casual response: "I don't know -- where to you want to go?"
"Oh, I don't know...Mexico? Africa? Norway?" A little thrill runs through me. So he does like me. But this is just a game, right? And I play it for a while, reeling off names of places that I'd like to travel to. Then we move on to other topics, then he brings it back.
"So, maybe we should just run away for six months." He's looking right at me with those blue eyes. I look down at my lukewarm tempura.
"I'm serious," he says. "Have you ever heard of the Intercoastal Waterway? We could buy a boat and sail it. Haven't you ever just wanted to take off somewhere, hang out, and finish your book."
Yeah, but I figured I'd do it...when? When I get an actual book contract? When I'm married? When...I don't know. I keep talking about how I want to go live somewhere else for a while, but when do I actually plan to do it?
"Umm," I say, unable to stop myself from smiling. How long have I looked for Mr. Super Adventure? But isn't he taking this a bit far? We haven't even kissed yet! I look up at him.
"What about my job?," I ask.
"You could quit your job. Just get another one when you get back." He's still looking straight at me, his gaze unwavering.
"Yeah..." My brain is reeling. I think of quitting my job. How can I quit my job? I've only had a steady job for a year and a half now and I I love the money and the fact that I can do all sorts of things with worrying about my finances, and that I can work my job around my writing schedule. I like my job. Is that boring? But I love adventure too.
"Anyway," I say, taking a sip of my Mojito, which I realize now is not nearly strong enough, "I can't run away with you, I just met you."
He just laughs at that and shrugs a little. "It'll work out somehow," he says, then goes back to his sushi.
Later, after we've actually kissed (mmmm), I say, "How do you know I would make a good travel partner anyway?"
"I knew it from the first time we met."
Is he insane? Just possibly?
Or maybe he just wants my money to help him buy a boat, and then he'll ditch me somewhere along the way?
Or maybe he's a crazy romantic who does really think he's found his match and maybe he has and maybe everything is going to change, and soon I'll be writing the blog from a sailboat on the Intercoastal Waterway.
Or maybe nothing will change and this will be just a bizarre blip in my dating history, a funny story for the blog. Or maybe we will fall in love and some kind of compromise will be reached.
First, however, I have to survive Survivor: Family Vacation in Honduras, which will require me to take no less than five different flights to reach my destination, and once there to battle malarial mosquitos and Dengue Fever and typhoid and bandits, and sharing a room with my mom, and learning to scuba dive, so it's unlikely I'll make it back alive anyway.
If I do, I'll be back on February 19, so if you don't hear from me before then, DON'T WORRY. If you don't hear from me after that, THEN you can worry.
xo,
BB
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