Working from the outside in

I had a fabulous dinner party last night with some of my Latino (and Latino wanna-be) friends. If you have friends of Spanish decent, you understand why i am clutching my coffee with a death grip this morning.

I'm proud to say i kicked ass in the vegetarian Italian cooking realm and we had a lovely Salsa lesson. We also managed to finish off several bottles of wine and Cava, which may have contributed to the impossible task of arriving to work on time today.

Awakening, bleary eyed, to an apartment littered with champagne glasses and wine bottles this morning was simultaneously shameful and fabulous. Shameful because there really is no good reason to drink that much on a random Tuesday. Fabulous because i'm glad i don't feel too old to drink that much on a random Tuesday.

I dressed in my most professional gear today. My colleagues must think I have a job interview. I don't. But there is something about looking like a grown-up that balances out completely not acting like one.

Thanks for all the fun Simon, Colleen, and Gabriele! I appreciate you speaking English all night just for me.

I’m sorry. I can’t. Don’t hate me.

In an effort to prepare myself for the upcoming Sex in the City movie, I've been watching re-runs of the foxy foursome religiously over the last few months. It is strangely ironic how closely this show can mimic the real-life relationships I have suffered. No wonder this show is so hugely popular!

I've tried the young boy who lives in a trashy apartment with video games and posters taped to the walls. I've dated the too-feminine straight man. For all I know, I've dated the too-feminine gay man. I had unfortunate run-ins with several boys with the Mommie complex. I've accidentally dated a religious person. I can't stop talking about my own Mr. Big. I've fallen off the sidewalk because someone tried to hold my hand. And, I've even had two actual boyfriends. The creator of this show has relationships of our current generation down to a tee.

I just finished the episode where Carrie gets dumped on a Post-It Note. Then she goes on a rant in a nightclub about how guys are cowardly and immature. Then she gets high and almost gets arrested. Then she eats ice-cream and laughs about it all. When said like this, it sounds rather boring and unbelievable. BUT, the truly unbelievable thing is that I've very nearly had that same night. In fact, so many of my girlfriends have. I think the point of this episode is to remind women that we can be prone to craziness and irrational anger. Here I have to stop to ask in a very Carrie Bradshaw sort-of way: It is really us?

Being broken up with on a Post-It is one of the least horrible abuses women are subjected to in our real-life relationship adventures. I feel that the occasional rant, however absolute the probability it falls on deaf ears, is our right. God forbid after being stood up, lied to, cheated on, ignored, used, taken for granted, disrespected, and, in a plethora of other ways, mistreated we dare get angry and raise our voices. Frankly, we should do it more often. In fact, women who don't speak up only make it more difficult for the rest of us. If I am a crazy bitch because I won't communicate solely via text message or I want you to keep your urine confined to the inside of the toilet or I expect kindness, equality, and respect before AND after sex, than so be it.

I'm just sooooo tired of always trying to remain calm and classy in a sea of classless jerks. I know that there must be some normal men out there, someone who rides my same wave. I guess I'm a little bit Charlotte in that way. But when my boss found the printout for my movie tickets for Friday's opening night of the big Sex in the City movie and asked me what character I was, I could only very sadly answer Miranda, the jaded, cynical one.

However, when I am alone and feel sad about how Miranda I've become, I can always count on Samantha to help cheer me up with fabulous words of wisdom:

If you're never someone's girlfriend, you can never be someone's ex-girlfriend.

Now i think i'll call up my girls and eat ice-cream and laugh about it all in the most unfunctional shoes i own. I feel better already.

Self Reflection

A strange and kinda funny thing just happened.

I was just accused by one of my exes of talking shit on my blog about him. I was confused, naturally, because it would be unlikely for me to write about someone who could actually read my blog. If i talk shit, i set it to my preferred list, of course. Most of my exes aren't on Myspace anyway thank goodness so i'm free to insult them privately as much as i please.

This is the funny part...i was on a rant about another boy...you know, that "One" that has tormented me incessantly for the last year. My own real life Mr. Big.

Turns out, the accusing ex, who i don't talk ill of on the blog (yet), can relate to my posts about other evil men in my life so perfectly that he thinks it is about him!

The sad and ironic thing is that, much to several people's shock, i've actually spoken very kindly of his gentle coaxing me from a scared and cranky hermit to one almost capable of love again...not to mention my numerous shout outs about his musical fabulocity.

Apparently, it isn't me who thinks he may act like an "ill-behaved loser in fancy clothes," but rather someone closer to home.

It is fascinating how when love goes away you can overlook the nice things and try your very hardest to find anger and blame. It is also interesting that when you don't know who that blog post was about, you start having a look at the crap way you treat people and start feeling a tad paranoid.

Stay away from windows and spindles

Mom introduced me to a song by Sara Bareilles that she thought was quite relevant in my life of disastrous romance and consequential bitterness. Basically the song goes through various Disney bombshells and disproves their fairytale loves lives with a realistic dose of cynicism.

Clearly, my life is no fairytale romance. I've had several serious, long-term relationships and, just as they approach a commitment tipping point, I decide they aren't right for me after all and send the shocked and heartbroken boy packing. My rationale is, much like the deceptive love lives of Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty, I can pretend happiness, keeping my concerns quiet, sometimes for years, even when I know that I could never commit myself by law to men with very clear personality or lifestyle conflicts with me. Why I don't toss them to the wayside immediately has always been a mystery.

More recently, I've also managed to fall hard for a man so completely wrong for me that I fear I shall never outlive the shame of my own compliance with his disrespect. Much like Snow White and her f*@ked up relationship with the dwarves, I was willing to bend over backwards to make it work. Like Ariel, I entertained the thought of giving up my standards of excellence to be with someone who wasn't even housetrained. Like Jasmine, I was fooled by an ill-behaved loser in fancy clothes. This experience has pretty much turned me into a wicked witch, but has also made me wonder how many non-believers I've turned out over my years of corrupt fairytales. I hope not many.

Am I a relationship poser? Or am I just the epitome of a hopeless romantic infused with a little sass? Either way, this Bareilles song has some good advice. First and foremost, there is no float-on-a-cloud love that comes from blind appreciation and unquestioned patience for someone who isn't right for you.

What to do? Fling myself from the nearest castle tower? Impale myself on a spindle? Probably not. Keep kissing frogs? Exhausting! I guess for now I'll just keep my hair trimmed and stay away from windows. I don't want fairytale love anyway. I want genuine, realistic happiness with a little candlelight and a few kisses on the neck mixed in.

Not such an unrealistic happy ending to hope for, in my opinion.

Anonymous Comment Box

Sometimes you need to tell someone something that you know will not come out right. Perhaps it is a bit of constructive criticism or perhaps it is a flat-out bitchy complaint. But, no matter how you say it, it will likely result in at least one person with hurt feelings. How do you avoid these socially-awkward situations?

I propose an anonymous comment box. How else could one exchange information with people of varying density those opinions that, sure, probably could be left unsaid?

I shall now use this blog as my anonymous comment box for relationships, both personal and professional.

• If you're taking me on a date, please don't show up at my house and ask what i want to do. Have a plan or at least a suggestion or two. It means a lot.
• I know you can't help it, but your snoring really bugs me.
• If you are a graphic designer and don't know how to design for the web, please don't call yourself a web designer. There is a difference.
• Stand to the FUCKING right, walk to the left!!!!!!!! Please.
• Please don't ask me out on used pieces of mail or other rubbish. If you're going for tacky, you're on the right track.
• Just because we work together doesn't mean i want to chat you up on the metro, especially in the morning.

That's all I can come up with for now...going to dinner with Reid. Please feel free to use this blog as your own anonymous comment box. I would much enjoy some collaborative bitching and moaning.

Dear God

I saw this amazing website today: http://www.dear-god.net/

Being in the online marketing field, I'm always scouring the web for the next hip and cool internet fad. And though I'm not big on God generally (I am atheist), I can't deny that this site is mega powerful and engaging. Also, I frequently like to live in fantasy non-realities of my own design (remember that panacea for feelings rubbish?) so today I am taking a trip down the "righteous path."

This particular entry made me giggle. If only...

Dear God,Could you send me a new boyfriend please? The last one
was rubbish, frankly, and could have benefited from a rethink of his sideburns,
amongst other things. The quality isn't what it used to be either and I find I
have to dispose of them far more quickly these days. AND they're more expensive.
So much for quality control. So, yes, a new boyfriend (preferably Joaquin
Phoenix but I'm happy to road test others) would be smashing. Please have him
washed and brought to my tent. Thanks ever so.Baroness Von Urquhart -
London

So, I might as well give it a try. He/She has never answered me before, but given my mild hangover from last night's Live Warfield concert, I could use the distraction from work for a bit.

Dear God,
Could you please tone it down a notch on this whole "being a grown-up" thing? Frankly, it is exhausting and not much fun. Bills, cubicles, complicated relationships, silly expectations about marriage and kids, Crystal City...i mean, come on?! I could really use a break. I'm not saying I want to go back to being a kid. I just want being a grown-up to be a tiny bit easier. Perhaps you could send me a condo? That would be fun. Or maybe you could send me a sexy guy who adores me and has proper manners and doesn't mind that I'm a little eccentric? Can he be an orphan? I sense that in-laws were
probably created by the other one down below. Also, could you make walnut cream
sauce and goat cheese ravioli fat-free please? I really love it the way it is,
but summer is coming and that whole swimsuit thing is kinda scaring me.

Thank you very much.
Rachael – Washington,
DC

Oh, and could you please make January 20, 2009 come a
little faster. I'm really tired of that guy. I'm sure you are too.

Favorite Things: Virginia Confirmed as Lovers State

I was coaxed out from under the bed this weekend and agreed to be trapped in a car for four hours with my new beau so that he could show me around one of his hometowns, Norfolk/Virginia Beach. I lived through the ordeal, just barely.

Before now, I've had a distinct distaste for Virginia, primarily because of the whole Crystal Shitty factor. What I found out over the weekend is that people from Virginia are some of the most friendly and genuine I've met in this country. Sure, they drive ridiculously big trucks and tend to vote Republican. And then there is that whole military thing....another topic altogether. But, I got to put my feet in the cold ocean and then my head on warm boy-shoulder. On average, I had a fantastic time.

In honor of the Lovers State, here are some more things I like:

• I like that, in VA, you can have a $20 glass of amazing Shiraz and then a cheap whiskey, all within a few blocks of each and there aren't any silly dress codes at either place.
• I like that in VA, the trinkets at thrift shops are sometimes organized by color.
• I like that even gas station attendants in VA are friendly and talkative, but in an appropriate "I hate my job" sort of way.
• I like that men who have never met me before call me "Baby Doll."
• I like that everyone at the raw bar celebrates if someone finds a crab in their oyster. (According to one of beau's lovely friends, this happens because tiny crab embryos sometimes get sucked into an oyster's shell as he eats. But oysters don't dig on crab so the crab grows up in the oyster shell, probably in a state of darkness and despair. When the unlucky oyster gets shucked, the equally unlucky crab is still chillin in there and gets eaten as well. This is all very fabulous for the eater since the misplaced crab is said to bring good luck.*)
• No one in VA cared that I totally suck at Guitar Hero. In fact, they were so unaffected by my clear video game un-talent that they gave me jello shots and a fruity hookah. I like that.
• Retail store employees are both charming and helpful in VA and I have a fabulous (sale-priced) sundress to prove it.
• I like that, aside from a few hours of un-fun radio listening, my beau continued to impress me with his musical prowess and I now have a bunch of new songs with which to annoy my neighbors.
  

Overall, I should really let guys of predetermined quality make me leave my comfort zone of 10 DC city blocks and occasionally see the world around me. I mean, eventually I'll have to get over the terrifying prospect of enjoying someone's company again. This self-imposed loneliness and impossible list of expectations is getting a little old actually.

So, I started with a neighboring state...perhaps being nice to a boy isn't much further in the distance.

Thanks for the fun, Oph!

*I managed to score 2 of these lucky oysters over the weekend. I did not win a thing on my scratch ticket but, I did experience luck in other ways...so validity of the crab/oyster thing is unresolved at this time. That being said, I'll take what I can get, however obscure, in the luck department.