A couple weeks ago I met Dan. We started talking on the phone and texting nearly every day and although I wasn’t really prepared for it to go anywhere, it was obvious that he wasn’t going anywhere without a fight…which I kind of liked, as it’s been a while since anyone of substance has come along. He is educated, driven, seemed pretty compassionate and genuine, etc. It probably didn’t hurt his case that he has a beautiful upper body and pearly white teeth…just sayin’. After talking to him for a few days, the comments started getting a bit weird…er.

I understand that people are marrying early and we are feeling a bit of societal pressure at 25, like we’re lepers for not settling down by this point. BUT, I’m never one to just meet someone and say any of the following things:

1. “So, are you going to be my baby?”

2. “I just need you in my life, and I know that…without a doubt.”

3.“I just think you’re a good influence in my life, and you’d be positive to have around.”

Those all seem like very sweet, endearing things for people who’ve been dating a little more than not at all. How can you possibly know that those things will be true without a bit more investigation? Maybe I’m a 350lb lagoon creature. MAYBE, I’m serial killer who loves to kill afflicted men. OR…MAYBE…I’m a code five clinger, who loves to snort coke and boot black tar heroin. Just sayin’…It’s off putting to hear things like that right off the bat. Maybe the only exception I can see possible is if you’ve known each other for quite some time and then upon getting together you say those things in the beginning…less weird.

I should also mention, Dan knows about the blog. Most people say, “Oh man, please don’t ever put me on there!!” and become insanely paranoid. But Dan said, “I don’t care if you put me on there,” which was a mistake. Although to begin with, I really had no intention. I’ve only spared one man I’ve dated from this blog, and it’s because that story is so inappropriate and embarrassing for him, I couldn’t write it in good conscience. We have some history and I thought it’d be way more messed up to disclose then to not. But as for Dan…no history…and no reason to not share one of the most disrespectful situations I’ve ever been in and been stupid enough to not get up and leave.

Dan and I were going on a date, to go see The A-Team. I understand that the movies are kind of a stupid, particularly when you’re still getting to know one another. But I chose them for that reason. I felt pressured to meet him, because he wanted to meet up so badly. After a day at work from 8-5 where people constantly talk your ears off, why would you want to go and have someone talk your ears off for another few hours? Look, I’m sure if I was “really” interested, it wouldn’t matter. I’d welcome the chatter, getting to know each other and enjoying a flirtatious twitter of the eyes back and forth. Dan wanted to go bowling, go for dinner, go somewhere. “Movies are fine,” I tell him. “I’m bad at bowling, I’ve just had dinner and I’m a horrible bowler.” On the way there, I start getting this bad feeling. What’s funny is my friends will tell you that I’m rarely off base with these deep feelings. They usually manifest themselves through soreness deep in my gut, saying, “hey….hey dumbass…this? This right here…? This is going to end HORRIBLY.”

Clearly, I don’t listen, pulling into the theatre fifteen minutes before it starts. I can see Dan from the car, although he can’t see me. He’s pacing a bit and seems frustrated, but when he sees me flashes a big smile. We hug and he tells me he’s bought the tickets. “He’s not so bad,” I think to myself as we walk towards the theatre. As we enter, he turns back and says “Goodnight Sophie.” Ehm…? Wherever Sophie is, she’s clearly not responding. “GOODNIGHT SOPHIE,” he says louder and sort of pauses for effect. I look over to see this girl hanging out on the pillar. She seems less than enthralled that he’s speaking to her and has a mild look of discontent and panic. He starts to explain, “Oh she was waiting on her boyfriend and I was waiting on you, so we kept each other company since it’s a bit sketchy out here.”

We go inside…time to pick the seats… I like to sit near the bar so I can put my feet up and there are no big heads obstructing my view. He doesn’t argue and just asks that we sit in the middle, where these two girls have their feet on the seats. “Don’t worry, they won’t have them there for long,” he replies. I sit down immediately; hoping there’ll be no confrontation…the movie hasn’t even started. “Hey ladies,” he starts. “Now don’t go kicking our chairs during this movie, ya hear me?” The ladies are giggling. They think he’s joking. “Oh don’t worry,” one replies. “I think I broke my toe before we came in here.” “Oh really?” he says, and starts rummaging around in his wallet. He hands them his medical sales card and they coo.  Right when I think we’re in the safe zone, I hear him start telling them… “We’re on a date. So please…don’t kick the chair.”

He sits down and says to me… “Did you knock a couple back before you came?” “I’m sorry…what?” I’m staring at him blankly, like…did you really just ask that? “Did you have a couple drinks? I mean hell, that’s what I would do…” (He’s unable to drink).

“No, I didn’t…why, does it seem like I have?” From there things got really ridiculous and if I sat here and did a full detailed recount, you’d be here for ten pages, guaranteed. I’ll highlight.

“Don’t take anything I say or do seriously tonight, ok?”- Famous last words, said by Dan. You know that point in the bad situation when you’re like… “uh oh.” While externally I said, “Ehm…okay…?” Internally I was saying, “HOLY SHIT, WAY TO STEP IN A PILE OF MOLTON CRAZY. GREAT JOB!”

It appears the main fact of the matter is, I never learn. Ever. Body language is important on a date. If my legs are crossed away from you, if my arms are folded, my hands are on my purse and I’m intently watching the movie, I have just given you the universal signs of “don’t touch me.” Had I of left my hand out for you to grab, placed my purse in the seat next to you, crossed my legs towards you and leaned over a bit…that means “GO.” The other way means “NO.”

Dan had evidently never heard of that general rule of thumb. I’m sure that the A-Team would’ve been a great movie, but I really didn’t get to spend a lot of time watching it, as I was more concerned that every time Bradley Cooper and Jessica Biel kissed, I’d be attacked. I started dreading the love scenes. Every tacky move that could’ve been made was done. He picked up his cell phone, texted, talked to strangers, was loud and wanted to have a conversation throughout the movie AND THE BEST MOVE in the history of tacky moves: “The Quest for Boobtown.”

The 2 part quest:

1. He removes his watch methodically, then drops it down my shirt before attempting to FISH IT OUT.

2. He keeps trying to hold my hand but stretches his arm across me so I have to continuously keep moving his hand so he doesn’t rest it on my chest.

At one point he actually tried to lay his head on my chest….when I kept moving his hands and head, he finally turns to me and says, “ why are you so uptight?!”

“I’m not uptight,” I reply calmly, a little shaken up from the shock of his actions. I really can’t remember a time I’ve been more disrespected publicly, and although you say to yourself, “If something like that ever happened to me, I’d punch him in the face,” it changes when it happens to you and you’re in the moment. I thought that had answered the question sufficiently, but then right at a climactic point in the movie he turns to me and raises his voice… “OH LET ME GUESS…YOU’VE BEEN HURT BEFORE, RIGHT? AND NOOOOOOOOOW…I’M PAYING THE PRICE?”

I had nothing to say, mainly because how do you answer that…mid movie, with now the entire theatre no longer paying attention to the movie they’ve paid for, but rather your conversation with a crazy person. At that moment, you can feel the sympathy radiating, hear the women going “poor girl,” and I can feel my jaw clenching, fists tightening and tears trying to fight their way forward. “I’LL TAKE THAT AS A GIANT YES.” I had enough, but refused to get angry as we’re still in public, and I’m still a lady of some sort.

“Take it however you want to.”

“SO…YES,” still screaming through the climactic moments of A-Team.

“Think whatever you want.”

After that, it was as if he had never snapped. He returned to trying to caress my hand, tell me how into me he was, etc. “I’m going to go get a soda, want anything?” “No.” He leaves and I text my mom and a friend of mine. I text: “awful. Crazy, crazy, crazy. Just went for a diet coke, hope he doesn’t come back.” But he did. With a large diet coke and large popcorn, both of which he finished then proceeded “release” the popcorn and soda back…out both ends. It felt like a cosmic joke…this kid couldn’t be serious? But he was.

Finally the movie ends and he walks me to my car, which I cannot get into fast enough. Before I even get home he’s called twice and left three texts.  We never spoke after that, and in truth, it happened about three weeks ago, it just seriously rocked me so much that it took me a minute to get to a point where I could write it down.

But wait, there’s more… About two weeks ago I get a friend request from a girl name Sandy. For some reason, I accept her friendship thinking I must know her from somewhere.  Something about her looks weirdly familiar, but I’m not sure I’m not crazy. I let it go and figure if nothing else, she’ll just be one of the other Facebook friends that I have that I don’t “know.” A week ago, I signed on to Facebook and my chat popped up immediately…it was Sandy.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey, do I know you?”

“Can I ask you something, and can we keep it just between you and I?”

“Of course,” I reply, thinking…I don’t really know you, so what does it matter? And, you didn’t really answer my question, which would actually be telling of how the rest of the conversation would go.

“How do you know Dan Smith? From CL?”

“What’s CL?”

“Craigslist,” she replied and my face automatically went into a highly grossed up, perplexed contortion.

“Um no, not from…Craigslist,” I reply trying to suppress the disgust seeping up from my tummy and into my throat.

“GREAT,” she says. “That tells me that he’s really out there trying to look for something/someone else.”

And so we spoke about Dan for about 30 minutes. She asked what happened and what my experience was. I tell her bits and pieces, but am still withholding because I’m not sure how she knew to find me on Facebook. Apparently, she met him off of “CL,” and then proceeded to have a plethora of strange experiences with him. He stood her up, she said she toyed with his emotions but eventually felt bad and met up with him. They went back to “his” house and he tried to get her to do stuff but she said she “doesn’t do THAT because it’s trashy.”

She said that it was time to consider not speaking to him, to which I reply he’s been blocked on my end for a while and that in my opinion, he’s not a hundred percent there and she should stop communication. While we’re talking, something occurred to me…the same thing I mentioned above…how on EARTH did she figure out who I was and how did she know how to get a hold of me? While she continues to talk to me, I decide to go to his Facebook page and see if they’re friends. Something just started to feel weird…I know, imagine that.

Turns out they’re not even Facebook friends. Which leads me to believe he clearly told her to contact me and ask why I’d not responded. ANOTHER thing occurs me…she looks EXACTLY like the girl that was at the movies that night, standing on the pillar (SOPHIE…remember?). Turns out, the crazy just keeps getting crazier. By the time I went to ask her how she knew to find me and confront her to see whether or not that was her that night…she disappeared off Facebook entirely.

SCARY, CRAZY and yet…typical.

Balls of Trouble: So before my team and I moved over to a new section of our building, we were under the watchful guide of (someone we’ll call) John. About four months ago, John decided to go sky diving and was in a really atrocious accident. While he was gone, we received a new overseer (we’ll call) David. After about three months of being on bed rest, John returned to work to find that things had changed quite substantially. Ordinarily, you may say… “Well of course things changed while he was recovering! It was four months!” John is another really interesting character, whom I could dedicate a whole blog to. But basically…he’s very knowledgeable about what my team and I do, and we found he that became the lesser of two evils over time. David is a smart guy, don’t get me wrong, however…he really doesn’t know what he’s doing when it comes to my team and I. So what’s happened now that John is back, is a tension filled ninja mind game of epic proportions…a sort of proverbial “300” of power struggles ( where I suppose David would be Gerard Butler protecting his small crew, and we’re the hunch back that betrays him and prefers Egypt/John…or whatever).

At this point, it’s a matter of one thinks this and one thinks that and we wind up getting the brunt of most of the situation. Manuel put it a little less eloquently, when he revealed his genius metaphor for what is going on. “Bruh. I’m sayin’…If David is the left thigh, and John is the right thigh, we’re right in the middle, getting jiggled around…ya feel me?” That’s one of Manuel’s trademarked sayings… “ya feel me?” Oftentimes you can hear Alan (another co-worker) screaming… “No! No one “feels ya!!” So after saying this, everyone’s jaw hits the floor as Manuel turns back to his music. After a while of digesting what happened, he turns around and says… “You know what? No homo!”

“Bock Bock, Chicken Chicken…”: So as I said, many people now work in the same room as we do. One of them really hates the new distractions that are created by the incessant laughter generated from the four gentlemen I work with. She’s complained openly before, but always has a tendency to be at the fridge (directly next to Manuel) when something breaks out. Manuel is terrified of her, but manages to always say something outlandish right as she’s walking up.  When Manuel is listening to his music, he oftentimes forgets that others can hear him. The following are accounts of what’s happened when Danielle has been at the fridge: While getting super into a song, you can softly hear Manuel singing… “Bend over, bend over, bend over…” Right as he is mid “over” he turns to his right, to find Danielle two feet from him…appalled. The second time this happened, he was talking to the other guys with his back to the fridge. “I got chicks coming in tonight bruh. Two. TWO chic-” Before he could spit out the remainder of his sentence, they guys were laughing and he turns to find Danielle standing behind him. He snaps his head back forward and starts saying… “CHICKENS. I’ve got two…chickens. YES, chickens. Chickens.” Sorry, we didn’t catch that…chickens?

Something Stinks:

A few weeks ago, Manuel was working out on his super awesome weights in his garage ( that he uses to get those rippling biceps he loves to pose shirtless in his Facebook pictures and show off) when he realized that something stinks. Later, he and his cousin found the cause of the problem: a dead possum. He asked his cousin to get some bleach and a garbage bag, along with a pair of gloves and help him clean it up…to which she refused. So, they were in a standoff for about a week until his cousin came to him, begging for him to clean it up because the baby ( the three year old that was slapping him in his sleep) cannot stand the smell. His reply? “So what? The baby doesn’t like the smell?? Either you clean it up or I’m going to cut the baby’s head off!!” Clearly, after being at the garage door and hearing this…it’s safe to say the three year old won’t be slapping him in his sleep anymore! (Frankly, I’d slap him harder). Eventually he cleaned it up, and in her true fashion, the three year old does continue to torment him. Three year old- 5, Mannuel-1.

Office Antics:

When it comes to what he says in the office, it’s always astounding. Again, as I’ve mentioned in the last blog, I can’t defend what he says or really explain where it comes from. He’s a twisted guy… and a bit “touched”…but that’s why we love him.

In regards to phone sex: “I don’t’ get it. Putting your meat on the phone doesn’t make it phone SEX.”

In regards to him cross dressing (we were making fun, he doesn’t really do it…but he wears really tight pants and small Baby Gap shirts): “That’s why I go to Wannado City dressed as Diana Ross…to entertain children!”

After we told him his computer had a NTD (Network Transmitted Disease) because it stopped working: “Shut up! That’s why you’re infected with General Arby’s!” Us: “You mean Genital Herpes?!?”

On music:

(TLC- Don’t Go Chasing Waterfalls) “I don’t get it. Why chase waterfalls? I mean, how stupid is that bruh? Where are they going that you’d have to chase them. Whateva. You know right eye? From Destiny’s child?”

Yikes.

(When trying to sing Bob Marley’s, “Turn the Lights Down Low”) “Turn your windowssss low.”

Double Yikes.

(Tupac V. Biggie Smalls)

So the most annoying thing can happen in the office when Manuel and his other Jamaican counterpart get together. Some ask why I come home from work speaking with a Jamaican twang. I bet you’ve never met a white, Jamaican, Jew before…have you? I know…I’m rare. I’m learning through osmosis, as Manuel’s counterpart not only works as a graphic designer, but as a recording artist as well. Interesting, right? This rapper…we’ll call…Pluto…works directly next to me, pumping dance hall songs, making sounds that are sometimes unrecognizable but not any less annoying and just generally being LOUD. If he’s being quiet, you can tell he’s in a bad mood.

ANYWAY!

Manuel’s computer contracted (what we call) a NTD…Network Transmitted Disease. Basically, it broke down and he had to work in the office space next to Pluto. All day they were talking with the, “you no know what you fi meh be talkin bout my youuuuuuut.” Oh you don’t understand it? Fancy that. Finally, after three hours of hearing nonsense through my headphones I asked what the argument was about. Our entire office was involved and beginning them to stop the madness.

Pluto: “This fool tryin to say that Tupac is still alive and he better then Biggie Smalls.”

Manuel: “He raps backwards. But…Tupac is a true poet, you feel me?”

Pluto: “No my yout! I’m a rapper and a poet.”

So they’re arguing over whether rap is a form of poetry, and how poetic both these rappers are. Alan, my co-worker mentioned above, gets wind of this and is instantly riled up. So now, while this debate between Manuel and Pluto is happening, Alan and I are engaged in a whole new piece of debate. Here’s where we stand on this…

Alan: “If rappers are poets, then Maya Angelou is one gangsta ass bitch!”

I agree that some rappers are poets…Common, Mos Def, Erykah Badu…but not Biggie Smalls, not Tupac Shakur, not the Ying Yang Twins…nothing that involves anything referring to:

1. Bitches, Ho’s, or Bitch-Ass-Ho’s

2. Getting shot, shooting people

3. Dealing/Selling/Trapping/ Drugs

4. Bling Blaaaaaang

5. How rough and tough you are when you’re really not from the streets and happened to be a PRISON GUARD prior to your badass rap career ( Rick Ross, I’m talking to YOU)!

6.  Any of the combination above makes it exponentially worse!

Alan and I were laughing, thinking about Edgar Allan Poe, or Carl Sandburg writing these words: “The world is one tough ass mofo. Bitches be crazy, tryin’ to get to my paper flow ya hear me?”

THAT…was the holy grail of yikes!

Thanks for tuning in to this installment of…The Manuel Files. More to come, I’m sure!

For all intensive purposes, I’m that “dude.” Except I didn’t start at 175 and end at 350… just to be clear for those who don’t ever see me in person. Either way, it’s time to get fit now that school is over and I have a bit more time to focus on “me.” SO I returned to Vinny, who is busy kicking my ass three times a week for the past month.  His gym is tiny, with a vitamin shop in front, a hallway leading to several cardio torture devices and then the open area full of machines and free weights.  For the past few weeks I’ve been coming in, there’s been a lady running on the treadmill who appears as if she’s been running for HOURS, drenched completely head to toe. Normally I’d applaud this determination, and express a twinge of jealousy for anyone with the patience and stamina. However, this situation is different… When I know I’m going to be working out for a prolonged amount of time, I ensure that the following things are in place: deodorant, socks, deodorant, comfy sneaks, deodorant, large refillable water bottle and the most important…DEODORANT. There’s no secret…you sweat at the gym, and if you’re like this woman, you sweat oodles and oodles. I have an overly sensitive nose…so it’s amplified for me perhaps more so than others. But I never, ever, want to be the “smelly kid” in the gym.

It wasn’t acceptable in elementary/middle and high school…and it’s damn sure not acceptable now. Vinny has his store set up as an organic haven, so the first time I was on the treadmill next to this woman, I assumed her smell stemmed from the fact she must be a purist who doesn’t believe in all the chemicals in deodorant or something of that nature (even though they make a natural one…not sure if she got the memo). It’s one of those situations where you don’t want to stare as beads of sweat turn into buckets as the drop onto the treadmill track.  Note that I said don’t WANT to…more like…HAVE to. My mind starts working a million miles a minute…is she a dirty individual? No, she just must sweat a lot. Does her whole family sweat like this? Has she tried hyper hydrosis treatment? Has she been on the treadmill for hours and hours? CAN SHE NOT SMELL THE WRETCHED SCENT EMINATING FROM HER GENERAL DIRECTION? Does she think it’s me? This isn’t even the most important part. As I’m worried about being smelly, I take a great concern in making sure I make good food choices prior to getting in there. For example, it seems like a poor choice to consume an entire BAG of green giant frozen BROCCOLI for lunch. We’re adults here…and as the book says, everyone poops and so is the same for flatulence. As I’m doing squats, I’m watching the lady on the treadmill in the mirror. Sweat is literally billowing out of her…and she just seems so unfazed. It’s truly amazing.  Squat number 75 and I start smelling something new. Less like body odor, more like rotting dirty diaper. It’s not close enough to me to think the trainer did it and clearly I know that I didn’t do it…there’s no choice. It’s my smelly little friend on the treadmill. At that exact moment, I watch her do a deep lunge on the treadmill and suddenly, a new waft of gross. I have what I like to call a “stank face” expression that says, “I saw you, and are you serious?” I’ve lost all concentration and wind up falling. The thud from my fall must have startled smell-a-lotolous because the next thing I know, I hear the sound of speed…like she was running to catch herself and then…THUD….AND THEN… “pfffffffff…”

The loudest, sickest thing I’ve ever heard. YIKES lady….I give it a big yikes…and I switched my workout time for Wednesdays to avoid her from now on!

Nightmare: Friday, 11pm-4am (Yes, I was asleep by 11 on a Friday…)

Scene 1:

There is a luxurious property, surrounded by lush greenery. It’s a new house and I’m carrying a present, so that must have been I was there for that type of occasion…when I get inside, my friend Maria is there as are a bunch of my girlfriends. We’re all holding exquisite handbags…which doesn’t seem important at the moment, but it will. Whatever the event is, I seem to be asking for someone by name. However, when I ask, the name is jumbled as if it’s being “BLEEPED” out. As I’m looking for the guest, I stop near the stairs to find a tall, thin, blond girl wearing mustard men’s yellow chords, men’s t-shirt and belt, and bright orange new balances. She’s glancing upwards to the stairs and seems impatient. Curious to see what she’s so into, I look up the stairs to find my ex-boyfriend walking down the stairs with a laundry basket, and as he walks, the guest named “BLEEP” put her hand on my arm and whispered, “ don’t worry about it…it’s just a phase.” I turned to her but she was gone and my ex and the blond girl walked through me and out the front door. He was in a cut off white sleeve shirt and AND1 basketball shorts which…was bizarre. More bizarre, is the girl, the guest of honor, “BLEEP” as we’ve been calling her, turns to me and says… “My brother loves you, but thought you were pulling away so he pulled away first because he didn’t know what to do.”

All of a sudden, across the room, my friend Maria screams “Allyson…come get your handbag. COME GET IT RIGHT NOW…NOW…” The next thing that happened was a bunch of men with guns stormed this house and demanded we turn our bags over to them. I grabbed the purse, and ran out an open window…we were on the first floor, don’t panic.

Scene 2:

After the guns and scary men, I awoke briefly. This was the next scene…after falling asleep again…

Same house, but I find myself engulfed in that lush greenery I spoke of earlier, hiding from something I did not yet understand. My friend Maria is still there…next to me… “When I say run, you run…and I’ll see you inside.” As she darted across the lawn to try to make it inside to the house, I could watch vampires pick at her one after another…I ran after her feeling terrified…then I woke up. (And no, I’ve never seen Twilight, so it’s not because of that!)

Scene 3:

By this point I’ve been disturbed twice, I’m sweating like a 500lb man in a donut shop, and my dog is staring at me like I’ve been talking or screaming in my sleep, which seems highly plausible.

This time, I decided if I went back into nightmare mode, I’m taking control. Sure enough, I fell back into that same position I started in while in “Scene 2.” I heard myself say, “I just want to go home,” and then started my way across the lawn while zombies and vampires were picking people off…but as I get closer it appears that it’s mainly a joke. They come up to you and pretend, because now I was at a resort…and that’s how they welcome you. This buff Latin vampire comes up to me and I put my hand up saying, “Please don’t bite me. I’ve had enough for one day.”  He turns to me and says, “don’t worry…I never saw you…” then turns around and winks at me before fleeing off in the distance. I walk through the flood of people like I cannot be harmed…because I’ve figured out it’s a game, a façade, and now it can no longer harm me. I walk up to my apartment, which is directly next to the resort. In this nightmare, I live over a resort bar.

I guess I had already been inside and settled, but for some reason I was walking back up the stairs at night (this is what it cuts to) and the Latin vampire is outside my apartment where a group of other “actors” are hanging out. We talk, we hang out, and he invites me to the bar down stairs that is riddled with the circular lifesaver rafts, netting and the usual cliché dive bar accoutrements. Although he’s not working anymore, he’s still wearing vampire teeth and no shirt. The shirt I was okay with, because he was built like a God but the teeth…? Okay, still kind of hot. When I get there, Maria is there…drunk…but very excited to see me. “Dude, isn’t this GREAT? How much fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu- then she fell off her stool and the thud jolted me out of the dream.”

Scene 4:

This is the grand finale, that ACTUALLY looks place between 4-6am. This time I’m back in the original house. In this instance, my friend from high school’s mom had moved into this new house. Beautiful kitchen and pool and there was a ton of people there to celebrate including “BLEEP.” This wasn’t necessarily scary, just weird. I haven’t spoken to the girl from high school in a bit. She moved away and turned into exactly what she didn’t want to turn into. We’ve spoken a handful of times, but she’s hurtful and I want no part of her selfishness. However, I love her family. So it makes sense that her family is in a new house and that I’d be there celebrating. As for “BLEEP,” if that’s meant to represent my ex’s sister…clearly, we’re not speaking either. Considering her role in everything and how she allegedly felt about me versus how I believe she truly felt, it felt weird to be friendly with her which is why her face and name were “blurred and bleeped” out.

I woke up at 6am and couldn’t really believe the rollercoaster I’d been on. What did it all mean? Although I wasn’t sure, it messed my day up! I could see the chiseled body of the Latin vampire, smell the dive bar at the resort, hear the men breaking into the house, feel “BLEEP” placing her arm on mine, the heartbreak of being treated as though I never mattered, and taste the remnant of Pineapple from the  Bahama Mama’s I shared with Maria.

Most of the time, I’m a large believer in the idea that your dreams act out what you cannot. With that being said, here’s the abridged version of how I broke it down…

I’m at a strange place in my life. Where many had this feeling of instability after college, I went straight to graduate school so I never had to wonder “what am I going to do next?” Also, I have a flair for the dramatics…making me feel like right now, everyone is getting awesome jobs, they have great boyfriends/fiancés/husbands and they are buying their apartment/condo/house (clearly not the case). I’m lucky, because I’ve got great friends…but they have been missing in action recently as well. SO…I think that a bit of this, such as the gathering with my friends for the party in the beginning is the sadness of having less time with them. It’s like I’m trying to break into this house because I’m trying to break into my field….break into my life and who I’ll be post college. It’s all scary! And the resort? Because I need a vacation…obvi.

Phew…it’s over…PSYCH!(AKA): And Then There Was Sunday Evening

I’m really hoping this is normal, or else I’m just all kinds of throwing myself out there…but I often dream about ex’s. Some ex’s are from as early as middle school, all the way up through this past one and everyone in between. Actually, I had a dream (not a nightmare surprisingly) where my high school boyfriend and I had a peaceful interaction (See the addendum about me not letting things go and hating people for eternity. Then see the footnote where I stop hating you for eternity if you apologize, or it’s been over 8 years). Mostly all the dreams revolving around my ex, or the ex prior to that are relatively violent, hurtful, or upsetting to me (despite the fact I should be able to say, HEY dumb dumb…it’s a d-r-e-a-m-m-a-r-e! I needed a name for when it’s not really a nightmare or a dream…it’s a combo!).

Sunday was shocking, because although I had reached a point of Zen with my ex, he has recently violated that Zen. It’s like every time I think he can’t be a bigger jerk, he’s so competitive he feels the need to prove me wrong. As of now, it’s been about 9 months since we were together. You have read a portion of my shenanigans and I’d like to highlight…portion. If I were sitting at home crying, or using my friends who used to be friends with him to get to him…wouldn’t I have tried to do so by now? That may sound confusing, so let me explain BRIEFLY and ever so VAGUELY… (not?)

While I was with my ex, he made a friend…who happened to share a ton of similar interests and if we’re speaking candidly here…was really his only TRUE friend (when it comes to going and doing things in the similar areas of interests). His friend, who happened to be super nice, happened to introduce me to his girlfriend…and we got along instantly. While I was still with my ex, we didn’t hang out a lot with them because they were either traveling or we were busy, etc. After things ended, I wasn’t sure what would happen…mainly because I didn’t know them well enough to judge how they’d feel.

They were amazing…neither one treated me any differently, both very welcoming and warm. While my friend (we’ll call her Sally) was very open with me about when my ex would be there, John (her boyfriend, the friend to my ex) never told my ex I was there. Sally never wanted me to feel like she was keeping secrets, and I never did. He was not a topic of conversation like he’d like to believe…I won’t go through the entire fallout, but essentially…Sally told John that if he cared about my ex, he’d be honest and just tell him that I am “around.” At this point, I’d be down there quite a bit and we had a few close calls where my ex and I wound up at the same place.

When my ex found out, he freaked out, insinuating that I was down there using them to get to him. I’m sure he said a lot of other mean things, but as it was John did not want me to know that my ex had called him and told him that he could not have a friendship with him as long as Sally and I remainded  friends. I felt responsible for ending their friendship but Sally and John were both incredible, John saying, “If that’s how he is, that’s unfortunate.” I was shocked and touched by their words, even offering to back off so that John could have his friend back. In true fashion for my ex, he un-friended John on Facebook when he did not get what he wanted.

Shortly after, we all became pretty good friends. As it turns out, they are two of my closest friends, whom I truly cherish and feel grateful to have in my life. I’ve never met more genuine people who are nice and caring, for the sake of being nice and caring. They were with me when I ran into him at my old favorite bar…when John turned to me and said, “We’re so glad to be here with you…I told Sally that before we got here.” It was the two of them who had a huge part in not telling me that although I thought my ex had left, he came back into the bar and stayed all night. My friend Amber said, “ We wanted him to understand that he does not affect your evening. You were having such a good time thinking he was gone…why spoil that?”

Cut to after that incident. Although my ex has a huge problem ever admitting he is wrong, it appeared that John’s friendship meant enough to contact him after New Years. He wanted to hang out, leaving a nice message up until the ending… “I’d love to see you, but…only if you guys aren’t hanging out with Ally.” I figured whatever…now knowing he was there the whole night and I paraded by him at the end, I’m sure he was angrier than ever that I appeared to be happy. I could understand that one. John let it go saying, “I’m sorry you feel like that.”

A few months have gone by, and it’s been relatively ex free. I’ve seen him in his car twice while in the area, but no contact with John (because he’d rather sit through a Musical showcase than contact me). I had a job interview in Coral Gables the other day, and went to lunch with my friend Sally at a place that my ex had found and shared with John. As we get there, she says…guess who contacted John last night? It was the same message: hope all is well, miss hanging out, lets hang out…if you’re not hanging out with Ally. At this point…I have to say that I don’t get it. What is the BFD (big f’ing deal)? It’s been 9 months…if I was using them, wouldn’t I encourage a relationship between the two of them? Wouldn’t I try to just show up while they were hanging out? I’d like you to build a bridge…a really large one that’s able to carry the size of your larger than life ego…and then, I’d like you to GROW UP and GET OVER IT. It’s like I’ve done something terribly wrong to him or his family, or he just found out I shoot up puppies with Heroin in their eyeballs, then make them cook me supper before I take them out to the field and shoot them. WTF!

Sally and I went to the Bubble Tea place that I really like going to but haven’t felt comfortable going to alone, as it’s really close to where my ex works. Sally makes fun of me because it’s like I have a radar for this kid…I always know when I’m going to run into him and I’ve never been off on my predictions. That day felt odd, because I had that weird feeling but so far everything had been smooth sailing. Also, it was almost 3pm, so I figured he’d not be out at lunch because of the time and not leaving work yet…so we were clear. After leaving the place, I was relieved that we’d almost passed his office when from afar…I see the Red Dragon (what I used to call his car) staring at me… “Sally…that’s him…” She started laughing and was like, “he just stared in here hardcore…probably trying to figure out who you were with and if it was really you.”

The next day I had another weird feeling…where I felt like maybe I was the one who needed to grow up and contact him, talk it out to a point where it’s not weird if we accidentally run into one another. I have a long line of defense before I contact him which prevented me from doing that when serious feelings were still involved. Frankly, if he can find it in him to come back to John, if he wanted to speak with me he’d figure out how to do that as well. Sally said, “I’m glad you called me first. He wrote to John again and said that he wants to hang out, he doesn’t care if we’re friends he just doesn’t want to run into you…”

So I’ve had this bad taste in my mouth for a week. As he continues to act like I’ve scorned him or I had flipped his world upside down. What’s happened in the past nine months has been huge…and I’m thankful for the opportunities to grow that have presented themselves. However, as I started to say two-three pages ago…most of my dreammares involving him are not pleasant.

Back to: Phew…it’s over…PSYCH!(AKA): And Then There Was Sunday Evening

Ok! Sorry about that but you needed a back story to get to the two second story I’m about to describe now…Sunday night was more pleasant than normal. The dreammare involved him following me around. Running into him at every possible moment and at one point, feeling incredibly irritated and (I think) pushing him before finally falling to the ground…We started laughing and he asked to date me for a drink. I said no. A drink leads to conversation, conversation to a kiss…etc…no. He continued to follow me around for what seemed like weeks in my dreammare. It ended with him at my apartment, spending time with my dog, and a kiss and tumble on the bed that felt so real I was beyond disturbed when I woke up…

In short (HA! Yeah right…my blog, my terms), I’ve written before about the power of music, but the power of dreams is a whole different beast. It’s that same feeling of transportation, to another time, a better or worse feeling, confronting things you may not wish to do when awake, etc.

Well, good news…we have a little bit of everything. I started writing a blog about the last three dates I went on, hoping to lump them together and then became dissatisfied with the stories. As I learned in undergrad from one of my favorite writing teachers when discussing the problem with budding writers: “The main issue is that everyone thinks they have something interesting to say. If it’s not interesting, don’t f’ing write it down.”

Thanks Steve.

So I decided to let the viewer…s…vote. And here is what I decided you guys wanted to read about FIRST!

The Manuel Files:

In a previous post, I’ve talked about my touched co-workers…who provides us endless hours of entertainment. You may remember him from the famed blog, “Dialing out for love,” where he made the awesome decision to call Live Links and have a fling with a girl who turned out to resemble Precious. We love Manuel, because he just rattles off the most insane stories and says the most interesting stuff… So, as an update from the last time he was discussed, I present you with his most recent work.

Hungry?:

Recently, they moved my team and I over into a different room that we now share with about 10 people. To celebrate the move, our boss treated us to Publix subs. As the sheet was going around the room taking everyone’s orders, Manuel walked it over to me. I’m looking at the list to see what everyone else is ordering to see if I get any ideas about what I might want and then I see it…

Manuel’s Order: Foot long buffalo chicken sandwich, lettuce, tomato, hollapinos.

I walked over to where he and the other four guys sit and just held the paper up in sheer disbelief, my mouth open and head cocked to the side as if to suggest… “Really?!”

He looked at me confused. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Hollapinos?”

“Yeah I like them.”

“How do you spell it?”

He looked down at the sheet and began laughing. The other guys immediately took interest… “What’d he do??”

“He spelled Jalapeno h-o-l-l-a-p-i-n-o!” The room erupted in laughter as we tried to decide the last time we saw a gangster pepper…but next time we do, we’ll “holla.”

Manuel is also famous for sayings such as, “Eat a hotdog and die slow,” as well as our favorite… “Detachable meat.” Although he’s known for this sort of stuff around the office, we found this next incident to be uniquely disturbing and entertaining simultaneously.

In our office, Blue Bell ice cream oftentimes makes deals within our advertising department allowing us to enjoy free samples. This time, they brought in about 7 gallons of ice cream, to which Manuel has been enjoying every single day since it go here. As he dug into a freshly opened pineapple yogurt, through our headphones on blast, we hear him announce… “WOW. This is like a warm nipple on a summer day.”

We don’t understand it. We can’t explain it. BUT…we laughed until we cried. The next day as he was scooping the hardened ice cream, he cried out, “Damn! This is hurting my ankle!” We’re pretty sure he meant his wrist…but we never know with him.

More Office Antics:

Just today, when I was thinking that we hadn’t heard or seen anything idiotic out of Manuel for quite some time, he broke his non-idiotic streak.

“Guys. I was in the water yo, and I swear…what’s that fish? A jelly fish? It stung me.”

I figured there was nothing else in that conversation for me to hear, as it seemed to be getting boring, so I walked back to my desk. Next thing I know, the guys are laughing and signaling me over to their desks.

It was to show the picture Manuel had drawn of what he had been stung by…which looked like a giant sperm. Not surprising at all, the guys looked at him and said… “So this is what you were stung by?”

“Yes!”

“HE WAS STUNG BY SEAMAN!” (Laughter, laughter, laughter)

“That’s what I SAID bro!”

It took Manuel a little bit to understand what had just happened…regardless…hilarious.

The last office story stems from the fact that we’re always making fun of Manuel and telling him he’s gay. Mainly because (as the last blog about him says) he’s infamous for making statements like, “If you don’t shut up, I’ll lick your neck bro!” We know he says things just for the attention sometimes, but then there are times we’re like…either you weren’t thinking about this prior to you saying it, or you just don’t think!

Two of the guys came in from the weekend and were talking about how they saw Coraline, Tim Burton’s animated kids movie that’s been out for a bit. While they were discussing it, Manuel stopped them and said… “Wait, what? I’m going to be riding whose core, on whose line?”

Stories From The Outside:

These last two stories from the Manuel Files, deals primarily with his personality out of work. And, we voted on some of the best stories he’s provided and these two made the cut!

To understand this first story, you need to know the following…Manuel lives with his 76 year old grandfather, who has a girlfriend 20 years his junior and is for all intensive purposes…getting more than Manuel and it’s not a secret. Also, he lives with his cousin and her daughter who takes great pleasure in torturing Manuel.

Who stole my favorite hats?

The other day Manuel came in looking pretty frustrated. When asked why the long face, he told us he had gotten into an argument with his grandfather over some stolen condoms. Apparently, Manuel had borrowed two and his grandfather was pissed, demanding the two condoms back…with interest. Three condoms had to be replaced in order to stop the fight and needless to say, the issue was eventually…wrapped up.

Who’s afraid of the big bad…ghosts?

Manuel is a really hard sleeper, but his cousins daughter, who is 3…is not. She is afraid of the dark, and so is Manuel. A few nights in a row, Manuel was feeling a draft in his room in the middle of the night and would wake up with a sore face. He couldn’t understand what was happening and why his face would sting for prolonged periods of time and just chocked it up to him imagining things. One night, when he wasn’t really sleeping so well, he woke up in the middle of the night to find his three year old cousin, nose to nose with him. She whispered, “Max…psst….pssssssssssssst.” Manuel (whose family calls him Max) opened his eyes and just as he could fix his eyes on his baby cousin, she slapped him in the face, giggled and ran out.

For weeks he was coming into work telling us, “I think I’ve got ghosts.” And he’d been sleeping on the couch in the living room. Now that he knew his baby cousin was behind this…he had to pay her back. He stayed up until she entered the room, waiting for her to reach up and slap him. As she raised her hand, he grabbed her, tied her up with a bed sheet and locked her in a dark room. Sometimes a three year old must be taught…not to get tied up on silly games! Three year old baby cousin-3, Manuel-1.

On a side and final note, she was also there when he decided that it would be a good thing to kill an ant with a BB gun. It should shock absolutely no one that he in fact…missed the ant, and shot his foot.

There’s no telling how large these Manuel Files can grow…but I have a feeling, this is not the last we’ve heard from him.

Matt was my ex boyfriend of 3.5 years whom I met through one of my best friends in college James. They are brothers. The way our relationship ended wasn’t really as fiery are the rest. While we had lived together for about 2 out of the 3 years, I had moved back down to South Florida and he was still finishing up his Undergraduate degree. Although the distance is to blame for a lot of our aggravation, we knew that it wasn’t right and it ended wayyyyy before we were really “done.” I should probably also mention that our fight leading to the end started with us hanging up on each other and ending our almost four year relationship via text. At this point I figured…we’re angry, there’s no maturity left in this situation AND…if it were “right” I’d hear from him again and he’d try to make it right. Long story short, we did not speak again…about a month later I began talk to my (now ex) boyfriend and we started a relationship pretty quickly. He became an afterthought…clearly, something better was sent my way and Matt was not coming up anywhere trying to fight to win me back.  One more note on Matt…. although his brother did not always appreciate that we were dating, Matt always stood up and said this is who I love, I don’t care, get over it. His family is amazing and never made me feel any other way besides accepted and loved.

Nine months go by and my whirlwind romance came to an abrupt end. Although (let’s call him Brad) he was someone whom I never would have considered dating for multiple reasons, we just clicked. It was undeniable that there was chemistry and he seemed to be everything I had been looking for. Things moved quickly and he asked me to move in with him and his sister and another roommate, making it four people and my dog in a small space. He had never lived with someone before, so I’m not sure he entirely knew what he was in for except that maybe it would decrease his need to travel back and forth to my house. Whether or not he really ever wanted me there based on what I know now, who knows. In any case, I’ll spare you the details…this relationship ended in a fury of flames as is traditional with my breakups. With me screaming “don’t you care?” and him turning his back and pretending like it never happened.  I think my big thing with that response is that I cannot really figure out HOW people like that do it. My mom, who’s a psychologist, seems to suggest that people often shove their feelings down in order to rationalize their decision or turn that person into a villain (like in this case telling people he broke up with me and that it was because of a reason that could not be further from the truth). In this case, it seems about right…I’ve had his childhood friends and friends from now alike be like….”dude he made such a mistake, he’ll never find someone like her again.” So basically…by your interesting version of the truth, you’ve now managed to make yourself look more like an ass. My motto when it comes to him is literally…. just when you think he can’t do or say or act more asinine…he does. So far all my predictions about what he’s doing, etc has been freakishly accurate.

All of this being said, I haven’t really spoken about it much because I’m still relatively unsure what to say.  In addition, he seems to think I’m sitting around waiting for him and crying nightly about the fact we’re no longer together. Anyone who reads these blogs….knows differently. Clearly I’m not sitting around, but being proactive about “getting back out there.” To me, I’m mostly angry at myself. I feel duped. Like how silly was I to believe all of the nonsense he was spewing? I lapped it up like a hungry kitten near a warm dish of milk. Pathetic but true, but I trusted him.  In no way, shape, or form am I waiting around to hear from him.   While I’m NOT going to lie and say that I would not be receptive to it, I think he’s too full of pride to admit he’s made a mistake or to come back and beg for forgiveness…or even just talk.

I’ve told you that to now tell you this….

So in tying in with an old post entitled “Nostalgia,” oftentimes I feel like the Universe and Spaghetti Monster in the sky are giving me “signs.”  That is often done through playing certain songs that I haven’t heard in a while or having something happen that sparks a memory. So around Christmas time, Matt popped into my head a bit. From there I hadn’t really entertained the thought of seeing or speaking to him until I saw his mom’s post on Facebook…Matt joined the army. Upon seeing this, I freak out. He’s going to go overseas, something will happen and he’ll be lost forever. I had an uncontrollable urge to speak with him and asked his mom if I could have his email address…”Sure,” she replied, “ but he never checks his email.”   “Thanks,” I say, “ I’ll take my chances.”

It all comes pouring out in the email, in a flood of words as tears stream down my face. Apologizing for the way things ended, telling him he’s a wonderful guy and wishing him all the best. At the bottom I say….if you want to talk, give me a call.

About 20 minutes later, I see a Tallahassee area code phone number pop up and immediately realize…it’s Matt. I let it go to voicemail because I’m not sure what to say, and if I can say it without crying. His voicemail he leaves sounds nervous, telling me he knows it’s been a while but he’d love to chat and to call him. I’m wondering why he sounds nervous when I asked him to call. Weird. So I say to him…”I’m surprised you got your email that quickly, usually you never check it.” To which he replies, “What email?”

I’m floored. He’s called on his own. We chat for 2 hours and catch the other person up, with the exception of course of telling him about my ex-boyfriend “Brad.” From there I got to see him before he ships out and really valued and appreciated the closure that seeing and speaking to him brought me. I wish him nothing but the best and can now put that part of my life behind me.

Upon coming back to South Florida, I had a friend come in town who absolutely loves a bar in Coconut Grove that I also happen to love: Sand Bar. When I lived in Coral Gables I used to go there a lot, and have only been back one time since Brad and I broke up because it’s really close to our old house. Also, his sister loves going there, so why make an awkward situation when you don’t have to? My friend decides that she HAS to go to Sand Bar and I reluctantly decide to go. After all, my ex does not own Coral Gables, nor does he own that bar AND he rarely if ever goes out.

The whole day prior to us going to Sand Bar I have a weird pit in my stomach. All of the songs that remind me of Brad are looping on iPod and even some playing on the radio, including the oldie but goodie…Set It Off by Strafe. I call my friends and tell them I feel weird….I feel like I’m going to see him out tonight and what do they say? “Ohhhh you’re crazy, you’re crazy! Who cares? You won’t!”  A few times I’ve seen his car while I’ve been down there, but had yet to come face to face with him after everything happened.

Two of my best friends were with me as I meticulously picked out my outfit, did my hair and makeup just right and kept repeating, “ I have a bad feeling guys, I just do!” They did not really care and we continued on down to Coral Gables. Now, two friends of mine that LIVE in Coral Gables were also coming too. Actually, one used to be friends with him until my ex decided that as long as this kid was “friends” with me, he could not be ( yet I’m the one pining over him…interesting…). As we’re walking in I am mentally preparing myself….all of a sudden, I hear my friend start going Jerry Springer…

“Really? REALLY? In the first five minutes??” I turn to her and go, “ WHAT are you screaming about?” She nods her head to the left and as I look over, I see….Brad. Staring at me with a shit-eating grin. It’s 10pm, he’s alone and leaving the very bar we’re headed to! This indicates to me that his sister is inside…because he’s clearly alone otherwise…most likely, he dropped her off with her friends and decided he was done for the evening and went home. Of course my first thought is…it’s going to take a lot of pot to burn that image of me out of his brain later! But as we walk on by….I start laughing uncontrollably. My friend turns to me and says, “ WOW, guess you were right….guess you also don’t have to worry about what it’s going to be like when you run into him!” We head inside and decide to sit outside, not looking for his sister. My friends are ready to go Jerry Springer on her, but I tell them to stay away from her at all costs. We don’t need an issue.

The entire night goes by and I’m laughing, drinking, dancing and enjoying my friends. At one point I see his sister go into the bathroom but stay away from there at all costs. No sense in creating more drama upon drama. At the end of the night, we walk right by her laughing and enjoying ourselves WITH Brad’s friend and my friends. Shazam.

About a week later I meet up with my friend Amber for a movie and afterwards we’re talking about my experience with Matt in Tallahassee. I explain how grateful I am that he allowed me some closure, as I know Brad will never…ever….ever….E….V…E…R give me that.  Amber looks at me and goes….”No one ever told you that he was in the bar that entire evening…did they?”

Apparently after we thought he left, he came back into the bar and was there the whole night. From what Amber said, everyone, including his old friend decided that it was better to not tell me since I was having such a great time. They wanted to show him that despite the fact he was in there, he was not a factor in determining how my evening was going to go. They were amazing and I love each of them!

After that, I had to pick up my friends son last week from school and guess where it is…Coral Gables. The whole day, same icky feeling but now I think I’m really being nuts.  On the way down I passed our old place and sigh in relief, thinking…yes…I did it! I passed it and I’m SAFE. All of a sudden, out of the corner of my eye I see his car…he’s in tandem with me but most likely doesn’t realize it. Part of me felt like rolling down the window and shouting… “Are you ready to have a conversation like an adult!?” Then I realized, holy crap…. if he didn’t think I was following him before, he’d surely think so now. So, I pulled back the crazy and drove off…wondering if there will ever be a day when we can sit and talk. I feel like it’s not about blame, or anger, or any of that…just the immense feeling of relief you get when you can finally close the door on a confusing chapter in your life.

M&M seemed awesome “on paper.” With eloquent communication laced with humor and ingenuity, not to mention a weird love for Will Ferrell that not everyone can always appreciate, M&M appeared to be my kind of guy.

When we talked for a bit, his emails were full of wit and flattery, even titling some (after finding out that I’m getting my Masters) Allyson, Master of Kickassery…which anyone who knows me knows that I ate that up…with a spoon… a big ladle actually.

He’s cute, with great teeth and curly hair, which I go gaga for. Perhaps I’m biased, who knows. Regardless, he is precious in a baby-faced kind of way that you start to think wow, you can’t be 31! But then you get closer and realize oh yeah…it’s possible. Now anyone that knows me, also knows that I never choose boyfriends through what they look like. My type is often referred to as lagoon creatures and as my one friend put it recently…swamp monkeys.  It’s always about the connection. Usually the quickest way to speak to my heart is laugh at my jokes. Laugh hard and seem sincere. I love that.

M&M is talking about Nirvana and The Toadies…we’re having this fabulous night. Out of nowhere this older man with way to many Backstreet Boy highlights steps over to chat with us. He explains he’s here with his ex-wife, who’s “ hot, right?” But she’s having problems with her 21 year old boyfriend…mainly because she’s 45.  On the other hand, this guys  girlfriend works at the fire station with him (clearly by now you’ve realized they’re fire…people?). Raul is his name, and he and his 22-year-old girlfriend are in love. They make porno together and discuss all things fire.  M&M is a government worker, so Raul becomes an automatic “bro”, engaging him in conversation laughing, making jokes and crank calling government officials. He keeps looking over at me, going “ M&M…bro this girl….is a cool chick. I can just tell. A badass, cute, cool chick.” I’m like…thank you Raul, so nice of you to say, etc… Pretty soon M&M leaves to go to the bathroom and I’m left alone with Raul who leans over to me and says…”You going home with him tonight?”

“No,” I reply, trying to avert my eyes and give him the hint I’m not interested in pursuing this conversation any longer. “Oh C’mon…go home with him…ride him a little. What would it hurt?”

All I’m thinking is…of course this would happen. Why not? If I didn’t have bad luck with dating, I wouldn’t date at all.

At that moment, Raul leans over and says…”You know, if you weren’t going home with M&M tonight, you’d be going home with me.” I whipped around, looked him dead in the eye and said…”You know Raul…I think I’m a bit too old for you.  I’m 25 after-all…Plus, I can’t film any porno’s… anymore. Sorry.” M&M sauntered back into the bar and at this point I’m ready to go.

Long story short, we leave and head somewhere else….it’s at this point he divulges he had 8 cats at one time, now he has 3. If that’s not weird enough at 31 to have 8 cats…I could keep going. While at the bar, he mentions to me…you know, your last name doesn’t sound very Jewish. I mention that it’s actually my middle name that is my “family” name with the Romanian/Jewish background. Upon hearing my middle name he pauses for a second…like something clicked with him….which I would never have thought twice about…..until this moment…..

After our date I decided I wasn’t into it. So I started ignoring phone calls and trying not to get too involved. A week or so later, I get a text…he’s had a hard day and needs to talk to someone. Being an idiot, I cave and say alright, tell me what happened and lets see if we can find a solution. He thanks me, tells me he feels much better and while he’s in a sharing mood….he has something to tell me.

“Do you want to know a secret?”

“Uhm….sure?”

“No really, do you want to know?”

I’m getting irritated.

“YES…just tell me!”

“ (name protected) Jody Finkle knows a lot about me”

At this point some things are starting to come together…Jodie Finkle is my Aunt,  who is a psychologist.

“JODIE FINKLE? I don’t remember telling you my aunts name…”

“You didn’t.”

Turns out, he was one of my Aunt’s clients…fabulous.

Anyone ready to start that monastery? Just sayin’….

Jim:  “Yeah I used to leave the dog outside but bro, it wasn’t intentional. This one time though it was hailing and I forgot about it and my cousin got upset. So I was like…is it okay? Then I remembered like…whatever, the dog has nine lives.” And also… Jim: “BRO all this work is stressing me out. It’s raising my calories bro!”

This same dude is really infamous for making super questionable comments under his breath such as, “I’ll lick your neck” to other co-workers then screaming, “it’s not gay bro! I didn’t say that! He’s lying!” then denying it vehemently right after (wouldn’t you?). It goes without saying we laugh a lot back here, but nothing compared to this story of his first (and only) time calling  Live Links.

For those of you who don’t know what Live Links is, it’s essentially like online dating except via phone. Also, you don’t get a picture of the person, you just get to talk to them on the phone and connect to singles in your area. Ever see those commercials where it’s like 3 busty blondes laying on a rug in full makeup and lingerie saying, “Oooh…I didn’t feel like going out tonight, so I just stayed in and called Live Links.” Then it shows them chatting and laughing coyly, like they made the best…decision…ever… Jim learned the power of advertising the hard way…pun intended… At 3am one boring night, Jim saw a Live Links commercial. With nothing else going on, he decided to go ahead and give it a try. After all, it’s 3am, nothing to do…why not? Jim decides to call several numbers to browse profiles deciding on what girl to “pick out.” Four phone calls later, after not finding anyone attractive…he found someone… Jim claims she sounded attractive via phone and they spoke for two days, exchanging MySpace profile’s as seeing pictures of each other was necessary before meeting up. From what Jim could tell, she was “bangin’” so they set up a date to hook up.

The night that his mystery girl was headed down from Tampa to Fort Lauderdale to meet up with him, Jim started to have second thoughts. Thinking that he could back out gracefully, he mentions that maybe its best they don’t’ meet up. The problem here was that she was already half way to Fort Lauderdale and was not interested in turning back without meeting him! Feeling like there was no other option, Jim agrees that she should still come over and waits to meet his Live Link Princess at the door.

Jim hears a knock at the door and is SHOCKED to find out his princess is closer to Shrek then Fiona. At a startling 300lbs, his mystery lady stood before him tattooed from the neck down, wearing top and bottom gold grills and a wig. At this juncture, he’s wondering where his busty blonde is…oh and hating himself for relying on MySpace pictures where angle was clearly a factor! But what to do? She was there, standing in front of him and not taking “go away” as an option. He had to go through with it…

They head towards his room, where the lights are still on and Jim is very able to see…the situation…she slams him onto his bed, and he starts fumbling with her girdle unable to un-hook it. She slaps his hand away annoyed and reaches back, unleashing the fury beneath… He’s ready to get down to business, to just get it over with and forget this experience entirely. As he starts to “get going,” she stops him saying….” Wait. I want you to take of my panties.” Jim is panicked and confused and looks up at her asking, “What panties?” “The ones I wore here,” she replied. He searched for them, eventually unveiled them and they got down to business.

When he ends his story, as we’re all rolling on the office floor, he turns to us and says… “Bro, you guys don’t even know bro…I turned off the light, and it all made sense.”

Maybe it’s because I’m looking back on 2009 and thinking “WOAH, where the hell did that time go?” This year feels like it’s been “extra long,” but I’ve also made so many changes that even I myself can barely keep up. I’m 30 lbs lighter, I’ve moved THREE times this year, ended two relationships, gone through three ( I’m on my fourth) job, taken my first trip to Canada, ridden into the blustery “waves” of Niagara on a tiny boat, fulfilled middle school fantasies, been on stage again for the first time since high school, performed standup comedy, started my blog, met Mark Paul Gosslar and Justin Kirk ( from Weeds!), ended friendships and started new ones and so much more. It’s amazing how much has happened and with such force! I’d do a monthly play by play but I swear that we’d be here through NEXT December. Often times I have an overwhelming urge to contact those I shouldn’t. Ever get that? I think its part of my nature. Whenever I feel like there is “unfinished business,” I get an urge to be like…hey…it’s been a while, but….

I’d like to blame it on my i-i-i-i-i-i-iPod this time, for re-hashing many old things at one time. For me, nostalgia can be triggered through anything, but hits me the hardest through song. What’s funny, is one of the relationships that ended last year was a three and a half year relationship with my college boyfriend.  He hated three songs with a passion, as he was more into punk (as was I at the time) and my lifelong musical passion (anyone who knows me knows this!) is rap. Usher’s song, “Up in the club,” was a song he hated more than anything. Worse than that, however, was “London Bridge” by Fergie, which I was absolutely obsessed with when it came out and forced him to make it my ring tone…that’s how serious it was. Finally, “Sexual Seduction” by Snoop Dogg made him go absolutely banana sandwich. Over time, he grew to not hate “Sexual Seduction” after I made that HIS ring tone and “London Bridge” eventually went away. The song that always stuck was that stupid “Up in the Club,” and when I moved away from him to move home a little over a year ago, I remember driving in the car and listening to a mix he made me, relatively stone faced. As soon as I changed the CD and put on my iPod and Usher’s voice rang through my speakers, I began hysterically crying. Amazing….Boyz II Men’s “Hard to say goodbye”…nothing! Usher’s “Up in the Club,” hysterics! I thought about all we’d endured over three and a half years and all I’d miss as the song thumped on. For me, it’s always the memory associated with the song.

So you understand this is no “fluke” occurrence, I’ll tell you THIS. In middle school, seventh grade, my first “boyfriend,” and I went to our dance and our song became “Butterfly Kisses.” Pretty sure it was also the first “slow dance” we danced to…at my bat mitzvah. Clearly, this is not on my iPod. Just an example to show that I remember over the years! It’s like certain songs get ruined, because the instant they hit your ears it’s like you’re right back there in that moment. Other’s from middle school include the booty drop song, where it instantly also takes me back to dances with me and my closest friends dropping it low ( for 13 year olds) and thinking we were the hottest thing ( “Free willy, free willy, fat load oooh ohh ohhhhhhh”).

My first serious boyfriend was in high school, and we were also together for about three and a half years. What did we know? Incubus was both of our favorite bands at the time, and 311 was right there on the backburner with New Found Glory.  He actually wound up expanding my musical collection, but two big songs will always be “him,” most likely forever. “Drive,” by Incubus was a big one for us. He is a year older and went to college first, and it just was supposed to signify that no matter what, we’d be there. Also after the breakup, the lyrics I believe were “helping explain” some things to me. I was young and dumb, what do you want from me? In addition, “Do You Right” from 311, as it was the first time I’d heard it when he put it on a CD for me. The CD also included (I cannot believe I remember this, it’s been like…5, 6…8 years?!) “Patience” by Guns N’ Roses and “He loves me, he loves you not,” but that’s a whole other story not appropriate for “everyone.” Forever those songs will take me back to sitting in a black grand prix at the beach, to hooking up car stereos in his garage, Disney trips and nights where nothing mattered but each other. Ahhh , young, puppy love. Is there anything better?!

There are songs that take me back to my first two years in college, like “Shake It like a Salt Shaker,” which if anyone who reads this worked at QDOBA with me, you have SEEN me do this! HAHA! In addition, you’ve seen “Love is a Battlefield” re-enacted damn near perfectly! I hear those songs and I’m back with Ms. Bobayna and Brandy, shaking my booty at work, laughing all the way. It takes me back to hanging out with co-workers until all hours of the morning, getting into trouble with silly Starbucks AND CompUSA employees and trying not to throw up the next morning from being out all night and not sleeping.

Other songs like, “Grillz,” by Nelly and Paul Wall transport me to Lower Lounge in Tallahassee, and the year I was so fortunate to meet three of my best friends. “Holler Back Girl,” takes me to another best friend of mine saying, “my mom thinks she’s saying…I aint no Harlem fat girl…yikes.” That song was also heard as I arrived in the dorm parking lot several evenings my sophomore year, where I was also fortunate enough to meet the best friends I could have ever asked for. College rocked. Nothing more to it than that

More recently, as I struggle still to bounce back fully from this more recent break up, I find myself affected much more by songs. As you can assume by now, they’re not normal songs like “Love Drunk,” by Boys Like Girls or anything pop oriented or bitter girl music. Ironic enough, I’m affected by songs like “Set It off” by Strafe, “Luccini (this is it)” by Camp Lo, “Hood N***a,”  “Body Rock,” and almost any other Gucci Mane song. They bring back laughter, the bring back tiny moments that I know that I’d prefer to hang onto rather than the ones that were sad. On one of the first mornings I was at his house, I asked where I should place something and he turned to me and said, “ to the left…I suggest…” and then proceeded to do the “Set It Off” song to the dance of Carlton Banks from Fresh Prince. It was unexpected and funny, as I coincidently found him to be for quite some time. Once everything ended, my friend Ash suggested I listen to a song called “Wishes,” by Superchick. It’s really like…sad angsty music, but I found the lyrics to eerily coincide with how I was feeling. That’s probably the one and only time that I’ve felt some sort of connection to a song that was mildly appropriate for the situation. I dislike bringing him, or his name, or our situation up on here as it’s still too new and despite how I feel, I can’t bring myself to truly talk about it at length for various reasons. But I bring this all up for a reason…

I’ve been on a really good streak of good luck. I hate to jinx myself, but its happening! My friend “K” has been affectionately referring to me as a P.I.M.P, which is not my style, until recently. My previous two relationships were interesting…tumultuous, serious, and at the end of it…a great disappointment. Not so much because of the relationship itself, but because of several other factors. Mainly, the way it ends always seems to disappoint. Actually, all of my “serious” relationships have ended in bizarre/dramatic ways. The first two were probably the worst (Valentine’s Day and through text), but this most recent one stung a bit more because of the magnitude of feelings involved. With the other two, I sort of always expected them to fail on some level. This recent one was the biggest disappointment, as it made me feel angry at myself, gullible and questioned what had really been real those past nine months which I’m pretty sure is the worst feeling in the entire world. By comparison, I was with the other two much longer, but have never been as connected or invested as I was previously.

To revert back to the “signs,” portion of everything, I’ve had a lot of those recently. Well, continued signs I suppose that don’t particularly pertain to one specific person and or situation. I always feel like when I’m in a certain mood and my iPod plays certain songs that pump me up or play with my emotions that it’s “someone’s way of telling me something.” Does that ever happen to anyone else?? I’m pretty sure I’ve heard other people say that! (Note the “pretty sure.”)

I had ended a relationship about a year ago in conjunction with my relationship, but have remained close with a different family member. I woke up about a week ago, to a notification from Facebook that the family member to which I speak of had wrote on my wall. In addition, Facebook sent me a notification that my ex (who we are no longer friends on Facebook), wanted me to confirm him as a relative on family link. Now, I know it wasn’t him, that it was Facebook, but it struck me as odd. None of my family is friends with him; we’ve all removed him from family link, etc. How did Facebook have the intuition to do that? Why was this old family member from a previous relationship on my wall and in my email? It was a double whammy for me. My biggest problem is that I lack the ability to ever fully “let go.” I let go to a degree, but always want MORE, whether it is an explanation, apology, what have you. As I’ve mentioned previously, who doesn’t want to know that the person has finally had that “come to Jesus moment,” as we say in literature, where they run after you down an airport as you board a plane to anywhere ( thanks Disney and Hollywood) screaming, “ don’t go! I’m sorry! My life is exponentially worse without you in it!”

In any case, speaking with that old family member and having it be around the Holiday time, her favorite time of year, sparked memories by a lake with a thousand Santa’s, one of my best friends from college and someone whom I shared a lot with. It gave me this lump in my throat, this undeniable feeling of nostalgia. It helped facilitate my desire to reach out to two of those people, only to find that one had also removed themselves from Facebook entirely. While I haven’t spoke to them in well over a year, I do hope they know that they’ve been a crucial part of my life. When I hear your songs, I will honor those memories in the best light possible, as they deserve. Wakeboarding, Fires on the beach and what I cherish more than anything, especially now…being treated like one of your family.

As for the other situation, who can say? People say drop it, let it go, you can do much better and I always respond the same. After what’s transpired, why on earth would I NOT want to drop it? Its little moments, like random iPod songs, that make me remember the good stuff and seem to twist their way into the cracks in my mind and heart that infiltrate and take over my rational side. I’m in no way bitter, nor do I feel sorry for myself or what have you. At this juncture, I’m just looking to be done with it and cannot understand why the past cannot stay where it belongs. People say he is regretful, look at what he does, etc (which I refuse to go into more detail about). I say, if he was, I’d know…he’d build a bridge and get over himself. Realize that pride isn’t worth all of this and that it’s okay to be “wrong”; instead of allowing himself to talk himself in and out of what he wants, as he often does. He thinks I’m trying to “get to him,” when in reality, I truly wish I never met him at all…Here I am dating, going out and living my life and you think I’m at home, still trying to “get to you?”

Yet, there is a birthday coming up…and despite the fact he couldn’t muster a happy birthday for me, I feel compelled to reach out (but won’t). Again, it’s like habit. When I go to events I think he’d like, or restaurants we’ve been too or even when I was in Disney for my birthday, all I kept thinking was…here I am, on this perfect day, with my friends and family and the only thing that I’m sitting here thinking, is that the only thing that would’ve made this day more perfect, was having you here. Those feelings have subsided, and I force myself to date and continue to suppress the residual emotions of confusion, anger, hurt and more scarily, whatever love remains.

Again I’m off track, I apologize….A.D.D. Yesterday, my iPod legitimately played any and every song that could have brought up something from the past. As I sat at work, wondering what the odds were that it was purely coincidental, I tried thinking about what I should take from that. Maybe nothing. Maybe it really is no more than my iPod on shuffle, coincidently picking up songs of significance…but if I believed that, then this post wouldn’t be here, would it? I’m still trying to learn…who I am, what I’m supposed to do and who I WANT to be.

The iPod, like my family and friends reads me impeccably. It knows when I need to hear a good Postal Service Song or Jacks Mannequin Song, as opposed to a Rise Against or Streetlight Manifesto. Sometimes a silly song like Miley Cirus, “Nobody’s Perfect,” or some Nick Swardson standup comedy. Other times it’s Gucci Mane, Ludacris, or Purple Ribbon All-stars. But mainly, it knows when to remind me to “Always look on the Brightside of life,” like Monty Python says and to never forget where I’ve been. Because, as is the case with most things in life, where I’ve been and what has happened has helped me become the person I am today. And I’ve got to tell you, I’m enjoying her more and more everyday! So take a minute today and see what your iPod shows you…it may just surprise you

I swear that I continue to date so that I have a continuous stream of free material. Terrible? Maybe. Worse for me to immerse myself in these awkward situations then for you to read them? Let’s hope! I wish I could say I’m dating because I’m interested in starting something again, but anyone who’s been around me these past few months knows that although I’ve recently ended a relationship…a serious one…I’m not particularly ready to eh…date again. Whole different blog entirely, one that I do not wish to share (although it’s not as if he’s reading this). In short, I’m having a hard time pretending to be over it, when I’m not. So instead I’ve been occupying my time with others, in the hopes that one of these will not just be a fluke, and I’ll wind up really liking someone and realizing that someone who tears out your heart to place on display doesn’t deserve a second thought.

ANYWAY!

Recently I wound up chatting with someone who I have had a little bit of genuine interest in. Not only is he educated, in a great place job and life wise, but he looks a lot like an old crush of mine from middle school. This is about to get disturbing…but I loved that he spoke another language (H-O-T) and that he literally looked like this other guy almost EXACTLY. Perfect fantasy to reality love story right there! (Don’t worry; I’ll Yikes myself for that one!) So he happens to call me on Sunday, and asks for a last minute date and I’m super excited, as he’s again…one of the only people I’ve even had any remote interest in for some time. “Sure, I’d love to meet up! Where and when?” He’s not from South Florida originally, but he happens to pick this classy wine bar that’s on the beach in Fort Lauderdale. Great start.

I head in to find him and wow does he look like my middle school love. Now I’m really excited, as he’s not a lagoon creature (my term for highly unattractive and misshapen) and he’s turning out to be rather well put together. As we finish our bottle of wine, he continues to tell me a little bit more about him, and we’re hitting it off! We begin talking about traveling, and he’s impressed that I’ve seem most of the U.S. by car. “Wow, that’s great! When I was driving down from Canada to move here, I passed through a few places but nowhere for long enough to explore. My favorite trip was to Spain and France, where my friends stopped off at this nude beach.”

Suddenly I’m thrown off. MEN…listen carefully…MAJOR turn off…talking about sexual things via phone prior to first date, or ON the first date.

“So did you…enjoy the nude beach…?” “Well, I wasn’t going to do it, but all my friends were doing it! SO I just took my pants off and voile (the other language he speaks fluently is French…just saying….hot).” “Wow…pretty adventurous. How was that?” At this point I’m not really willing to be affected by this. He seems about 90% normal, why care that he is confident enough to drop it in public? If he’s willing to do that…his eh…confidence must be pretty…together. Next question was in regards to the South Beach nude beach, to which I reply that I know it exists but would not go to that sort of thing.

Not my bag.

Then I quickly recovered by explaining it’s pretty normal for that type of thing in South Beach, as the mentality down there makes it seem like the Europe of FL. I can’t believe how normal that night appeared to be. A whole date without any MAJOR sense of weirdness to you? You don’t seem to be unusually attached or afflicted, uneducated or unmotivated…what’s wrong with you?! As is normally the case, it was allllllllll a matter of time. I should have realized little signs indicating his love for nudity, the act of being nude and general overall hatred for clothing. “Want to take a walk on the beach? Or we could have another bottle of wine? Or didn’t you say that you lived close to here?” I text my friend and tell her that everything is fine, as we have a code that she’ll ask if my mom called…if she did, I’m ok and enjoying myself. If I say no, it means my dog is sick; she is my roommate and needs me to come home NOW. I also tell her that I think he’s trying to trick me a bit into going back to my house…she says if I’m not carrying Mase, or a knife…do none of the above.

I decide she’s being paranoid and agree to the walk on the beach. Sadly, as mentioned above, due to my residual feelings and ridiculous desire for what I once had…I compare everything (subconsciously) to what once “was,” including connection. I’m on the fence about how I’m feeling with this one, but the walk on the beach goes seamlessly and I’m stunned by his normalcy and down to earth attitude. Now it’s time to walk back to the car. I’m parked in a dark lit place, but a place I’m familiar with so I’m not nervous. He walks me back to the car and I agree to drive him back to his.

At first, it seems harmless…until he grabs my face and kisses me like he is attacking me. Many quick HARD kisses while saying things in French in-between…”C’est Bon.” I’m officially turned off and am ready to drop him off. I HATE forward acts on a first date. Suddenly, he asks…can you take my shirt off? I’m a little itchy and want to make sure it’s not a rash or spreading… WHAT? “Eh…no, I’m sorry. I’ll take you back to your car and you can check it out. Best of luck with that.”

I am not kidding, as you should all know by now…He literally gets out of the car, stands up and RIPS his clothing off. “Remember when I said that I had never been to the nude beach down here?” “Uh…uh…yes…” I’m insanely nervous at this point. WTF just happened Dr. Jekyll!? “Well…I lied. You see, I love being nude. Can’t get enough of it as a matter of fact! Had a really nice time, I WILL call you…” Before I could say don’t bother, my façade of a decent man took off running with his clothes down a back alley…nude. I’m sure he composed himself (one can hope!) before returning to his car or out in the busy Fort Lauderdale Beach scene…but HOLY COW.