Why do guys suck at communicating?

Tonight, I got a message from a guy on OKC. It was all totally grammatically incorrect, but the English translation was basically he thought I was cute, wanted to talk, and he had just come home from a tour in Afghanistan a few days ago, so his profile was lacking.

So, I responded that I was doing well, getting ready for vacation, welcomed him home, and asked if he was glad to be home.

He responded that he was really glad. Period. That was it.

I waited a while, decided I'd just let it go, then, decided it would be rude not to respond. So, then I asked what he planed to do now that he's back.

Relax. As much as possible. That was his response.

How am I supposed to respond to that? Oh, well, that's nice? Do guys not know that you have to give the other person something to go on?

I mean, it would be one thing if I had contacted him first, and he was just responding to be polite, but, no, he started it! So, why did he act like it was a burden, and a boring one, to talk to me?

If you want to talk to me, fine. If you don't, then don't start a conversation. I'm not going to chase someone, or beg them to talk to me. I want a relationship, but I'm not desperate. I've got too much pride for that.

Warning: Angry Word Vomit

I have nothing to share.

Sorry. What can I say? 

My parents are getting divorced. I think I just broke up with one of my friends because I can't deal with the kind of maintenance the relationships requires. I have to write a gajillion papers. Money is tighter than a hipster's pants. I work 950 hours a week.

So, please, tell me when I'm supposed to be looking for Mr. Right? Hell, when am I supposed to look for Mr. Right-Now?

I guess, really, what I'm saying is this: if one more person tells me that I need to put more effort into finding a boyfriend right now in my life, I'm going to go ape-shit.

Yes, I'm single. Yes, I would love to have someone who cares for and supports me that I can, in turn, care for and support. But you know what? That doesn't just jump out of the bushes when you walk down the street. It takes looking to find a guy worth the effort, and right now, time is what I just don't have.

I'm not giving up, my eyes are still peeled. I just needed to vent that because I hate the way people who have never in their lives been totally single with no one at all interested in them think they can tell me (and people like me) that we should just get significant others. As though we can go to Target and pick one up. 

They're people. Not tampons. He has to like me. And I have to like him. It doesn't work one-way. I like Adam Levine. He's not my boyfriend. See how that works?

Oh, and if I happen to be ringing a cute guy up, I don't need anyone standing over my shoulder watching ("helping") so they can tell me what I did wrong. I don't need anyone telling me that I let my future walk out the door, or that he drove away in a BMW with an UoAlabama Alumni tag on it. 

Honestly, yeah, he was cute, but U------ stood there and starred at me, so I already felt super uncomfortable. Then, while he was actually checking out, he didn't make eye contact with me. Not once. That's rude. So, I don't are how many nice cars or degrees he has, if he can't treat a cashier like a person, then I'm in no way interested. 

So, there it is: my super explosion. If you read the whole thing, you should get a cookie. I apologize. I'll go back to just noting random hot guys now.

Please forgive my absence!

I know it's been a while since I posted anything new. I'm sorry! My life has been hectic for the last month or so, and it hasn't left much time for me to think, let alone blog. I won't bore you with details, but I just started a new semester, and my home life has been in an upheaval.

So, my non-existent love-life has been even more non-existent. Not to worry, though! U------ and E---- have got my back. U------ has chosen a new hair color and given comments or a new style for me to try. And, E---- has a friend who might know someone that they could set me up with, maybe.

I'm getting my hair done Saturday, and I promise I'll post a pic. As for the ever elusive set up, your guess is as good as mine.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way Home From the Beach

This is the last story I need to relate about my beach trip. After this, I'll speak of it no more. Maybe. :)

A--- and I drove down in my car (read: I drove, A--- rode) so that there were two cars with us at the beach, and so that I did not have to ride in the car with C------ for six hours. So, naturally, A--- and I came back together.

We decided we were hungry around normal people lunch time, found an exit with several options, and pulled into a Burger King. Our meal was fine, nothing out of the ordinary. I was so hungry that it didn't even matter that I don't like Burger King.

Anyway, we filled up our cups for the road, and walked out into the witheringly hot afternoon. Two BK employees were standing by the door taking a smoke break. One of them started talking to us. He asked how we were, and we said fine. He asked if we were from there, where ever there was, and we said no, so he asked where we were from. I told him Huntsville as I dropped my purse while trying to fish my keys out of it.

"Oh, yeah, up Madison County. Huntsvegas!"

That made me stop and look up because I've never heard anyone not from HSV or the surrounding area call it Huntsvegas. I asked if he was from here, and he said no, but he had some friends up here.

Finally, I got my hands on my keys and the doors unlocked. As we were ducking into the car, the guy said, "So, uh, can I get a phone number, so I can holler at ya when I'm up there?"

A--- slid into the car, and I smiled and said, "Sorry, no."

When I got in, she was laughing. "I wonder if they know their employees are in the parking lot harassing customers on their break."

"We should go through the drive through and tell them," I laughed as we pulled off with the guy still watching us.

So, it's not true that I never get hit on. It is true that I never get hit on by guys that I would actually date.

Love Connection via DrawSomething?

While we were at the beach, A---, B----, C------ (whom I still don't like and hope never to have to deal with again), and I spent a collective total of almost $200 on booze. By Friday night, we had gone through most of it, but still had plenty to fuel one more drunken evening.

A couple hours in, A--- remembered that she had been playing DrawSomething with one of her other friends... two weeks ago. So, she started playing on her phone. One of her opponents told her that she was cute, and she told him she was drunk, so, of course they started flirting.

I'm not sure how long they flirted because my evening ended about an hour earlier than everyone else's because I had to start my three hour long retching-vomiting-dying session.

Anyway, the next morning, while we were making breakfast (I didn't have a hangover mostly because after three hours of throwing up everything but my soul, that would have been karmic-ly unjust), A--- remembered her drunken flirtation, and that he had given her his email.

So, of course, she searched the email on Facebook.

Turns out, he's married. With kids. Classy.

But props to A--- for her close brush with cyber-age romance.

Tonight, I Almost Got My Very Own Episode of Dateline

A lot has happened since last night's heart-to-heart with U------. This other guy on OkCupid starting instant messaging me, and then asked me out. For tonight. At 7.

When we first started talking, I asked him what hockey team he was a fan of, because he said he was a hockey fan. He said Detroit and Pittsburgh. That was almost a deal breaker, but I decided that that would be really shallow. So, we kept talking, and he was really enthusiastic.

When I said I needed to go, he asked me if I wanted to go out tonight. I said sure, because why the Hell not, right?

So, I went into mega-last-minute-get-your-ass-ready-for-a-first-date-mode. But S----, the guy, wouldn't stop texting me! If I didn't respond to his message, he would send me another one every few minutes. This started driving me crazy because, really, that's unnecessary. Finally, I told him I was leaving to meet him so he would stop texting me.

I drove to this restaurant and arrive at like 7:02, and I texted him to see where he was. He texted back that he was at home, and he would be there as soon as he could. This kind of pissed me off, but maybe he lived around the corner, what did I know?

At 7:30, I was on the verge of turning around and coming home. Then, he finally texts me that he was there. I told him I would meet him at the door. He walks up to me after a couple of minutes and just stared at me.

I said, "Hi, are you S----?"
He said, "Yes."
"I'm E--------, nice to meet you."
"Hi."

Then, I opened the door for him, and he told the hostess that there were two of us without looking at me. They seated us, and as we were sitting down, he goes, "So, is there anything else I need to know about you?" At this point, I'd like to take the opportunity to describe him. He was like 5'6" and weighed about 80lbs. His pictures had to be at least five years old, and there's no way he's only 24. What hair he had was long-ish and greasy, and he was wearing a Sheldon Cooper shirt. And, the second I saw him, every nerve in my body started screaming "Danger! Danger! Serial Killer! Run!"

So, when he asked if there was anything he needed to know about me I said, "No," and pulled my phone out into my lap and texted A--- "Omfg! SOS!"

While I was waiting for my saving grace, he just started chuckling manically under his breath. A--- texted back to see if I really needed her to call, and instead of properly answering her, I sent "Just call!"

While I waited for that, he stared at me and asked if I knew what I wanted to eat, and told me that he had just finished watching The Big Bang Theory. By the time A--- called and told me she was in a wreck, I was like shaking. So, as soon I got off the phone, I word vomited the excuse and bolted. Which, by the way, is pretty much exactly the way I would react if she were really in a wreck, but she doesn't actually drive, so...

On my way there, though, R----- texted me to confirm our date for tomorrow, and to tell me to have a good night. Which I think is just enough communication. He's texted me just a few times since we started trying to plan our date, and instead of feeling pushy, it makes me feel like he's thinking about me. It's nice. And after tonight, there's nowhere to go but up. I hope.

The Cowboy Casa-never

I almost forgot all about this, but you're in luck because I just remembered.

As I've said before, my co-workers have made it their solemn mission to find me a man. This has entailed flirting lesson, styling tips, a field trip to the club, and lots of advice. But one of them has taken it to a whole new level.

Very often, they start sentences with "We saw this guy, and I was like he'd be perfect for Elizabeth..." Now, however, E---- has gotten a little desperate for me. She's started asking guys if they'd be interested in me. And not guys she knows. Guys at work. Customers. Yeah.

So, recently, we were doing a closing shift together, and she said, "I need to tell you what happened the other night."

So, what happened was this: This guy wearing a cowboy hat came in, and for some reason, E---- decided to ask him if he'd be interested in me.

Now, I stopped her at cowboy hat, because there are only two reasons a guy would wear a cowboy hat to a pharmacy (or anywhere really). One, he's actually a cowboy, in which case, fine. Or two, he's a colossal asshole, which doesn't interest me at all. When I asked why she thought he would be a good match for me, she said he "talked kind of smart" and "seemed a little cun-tree." So, from that, I was able to deduce that he was Cowboy Hat Type 2, and knew not to hold my breath for a happy ending to her story.

So, anyway, she apparently said something along the lines of "are you single, because I have this friend--"

And before she finished the question, he snapped, "I don't do that kind of stuff."

Now, I agree that E----'s approach was more than a little clumsy, but seriously, dude? You just got second-hand hit-on (sort of), and you're gonna choose now to prove my Cowboy Hat Hypothesis? A more appropriate response would have been, "I'm flattered, but I'm not interested. Thanks though, crazy lady."

But the part that gets me is "that kind of stuff." What kind of stuff? A blind date? Being second-hand hit-on? Did he think E---- was inviting him to some sort of creepy-random-stranger-orgy? Did he think she was about to pay him to take me on a date then dump pigs' blood on me so that I would end up the star of my very own horror movie? What?

So, anyway, that's the story of another disastrous attempt to find me a date that blew up on the launch pad without ever leaving the ground. All the second-hand rejection is starting to mess with E----'s mind a little. If I don't get a date soon, she's going to start putting ads on craigslist for me, or something, but for me, it's all funny as hell in a depressing, forever alone kind of way.

Expedition Complete

The expedition was a fail of epic, no, dare I say, catastrophic, proportions.

Let me start by saying, I did not get drunk. During the time between 8pm and 12:30 pm I had a total of three tequila shots (disgusting, I'd rather have vodka and day of the week) and two Long Island ice teas. Now, I don't drink often, but that's not enough to get me drunk. I almost wish I had been drunk, then I might have had an excuse.

But I'm getting ahead of the story. A--- and I got to N----'s house on time/early depending on your definitions. Then, we waited while she took a shower and got dressed (after welcoming us with tequila). Then, she picked out my make-up and did my hair while we waited for E---- to get off work. When E---- got there, she made me do another shot with her, and then, we were all ready to go.

In our quest for parking, N---- broke about a hundred traffic laws, including going the wrong way on a one-way street. Then, E---- continued the lawlessness by crossing when the sign clearly said "DON'T WALK." It did her no good, however, because the rest of us refused, and waited for the light.

We got into the club, and the air was so thick with cigarette smoke, I almost choked. Also, most of the people there had were dressed casually, there were a few others dressed up like we were, but almost all of the guys were just wearing normal everyday clothes. The music was okay, but they used their strobe light way too much.  The Long Islands were damn good, though.

The first hour or so was spent with N---- and E---- trying to get me to bump into cute guys, or to dance near them, or give them "the eye," whatever the hell that means. Then, they abandoned A--- and I for a while, and we just danced. All of us found each other again eventually, and got another Long Island. Then, N---- and E---- spent more time strategizing. After that, we went back on the floor.

Now, up until then, the night had been great. I hadn't been approached, but that didn't really matter because I was having fun. Cue the dehydration.

I started to feel a little shaky, but I thought I was just a little tipsy, so I kept dancing. Then, I started to feel my legs getting weak, but I still ignored it because I didn't want to mess up their fun (they were all dancing with random guys). So, by the time I told A--- that I needed to sit down, it was too late.

I literally took one step and hit the floor. It was the worst sensation, my legs just crumpling beneath me. If you've ever fainted because you stood too long with your knees locked, you know what I mean. I was, of course, mortified, as A--- and some random guy picked me up, and I hit my knees two more times before I got to a seat. I blame the shoes and the heat. I also feel like a total idiot for ignoring what my body was trying to say.

We left soon after that, which is to say, as soon as I could walk back to the car.

In manhunting news, N---- and E---- were beating guys off with sticks, and A--- had a couple of cuties grinding on her (which was uncomfortable for her but amusing for me). Me? One guy all night danced with me (not counting the totally fucked up dude that danced with the four of us before trying to dance with a big dude with dreads who was having none of that bullshit), and he was a definite never-gonna-happen. He was persistent, though, I spent several minutes trying to dance away from him while he grabbed my waist and repeatedly asked me my name. He didn't get it.

So, in summation, it was fun for a night, but that was absolutely not my scene. I think I would enjoy something more laid back, the drinking was fun, but the music and lights were too much. Also, I'd like somewhere I can actually see more than basic outlines of the people around me.

Well, you live and learn. A--- and I had IHOP after, and then, when I got home around 4am, my mom was freaking out a little. I can all but promise her this probably won't happen again. Not the exact same thing, anyway.