Well, That Sucks

I honestly can't remember the last time I had an actual crush on an actual guy. I've had plenty of celebrity  crushes, sure, but I haven't met a guy in a long time that I really fell for, you know. And, that was something that I was kind of proud of; I felt like... I don't know... like I was safe. I can't explain it. If I don't crush on some guy, I can't break my own heart because he doesn't know I exist.

Anyway, I goofed.

Remember the nerd squad from my Milton class? Well, I've had a particular thing for one of them since the beginning of the semester, but I didn't really think about it. Sure, I thought he was the cutest. Sure, I'd daydream about him sometimes. Sure, I listened to what he was saying. Sure, I wanted him to notice me. But it wasn't anything more than a slight attraction. Right?

Nope. I realized yesterday when I caught myself really wanting to tell E---- all about him that it was a full blown crush.

Worse, the semester is almost over. Meaning that after the second week of December, I'll probably never see him again. Which sucks. Because I really like him. Ugh. Why did I decide to grow feeling now?

So, I admit that I have a crush on M----, and that I foresee myself needing ice cream to recover. But hey, maybe I'll get lucky. Maybe I'll get the guy for once. Haha. That's so unlikely I can't type it with a straight face. I'll let you know when I start my therapy session with Doctors Ben and Jerry. 

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.

A Little Flirting on the Clock

As you've probably noticed, I pretty much spend all my time at work. In consequence, most of the interesting interaction I have with the opposite sex occur when I'm on the clock.

One night, a week or so ago, this really cute guy who works at the supermarket behind the pharmacy I work in, came in to buy some cigarettes on his break. He was tall, tan, sandy haired, and blue-eyed with a smooth, sweet smile, so I promptly melted into an awkward puddle of goo.

I smiled at him, and just checked him out as I would anyone else, because, let's face facts, I suck at flirting. So, imagine the way my heart fluttered when he asked me how my night was going, after we were done with our transaction. Be still my beating heart!

We talked for a few minutes, albeit awkwardly, until the old lady who was passive-aggressively looking at the candy bars made things feel really weird. He told me to have a good night, gave me one last smile (to make sure I was good and melted, I'm sure), and walked out the door.

Apparently, forever, because he hasn't been back. At least not on any of my shifts. Which sucks. Because while I suck at flirting, I'd really like to give awkward small talk with him another try.

By the way, his name was S------, on the off chance that I get to write a sequel to this post. (But I never do, so don't hold your breath.)

(Not so) Random Cute Guy(s) Sighting: Nerd Squad Edition

This semester I'm taking a 400 level class on Milton, and there are a couple of really cute super nerds in my class. It's a really small class, so we all talk before class begins, and everyone always says something to the effect of "I really don't want to be here." But, for me, I'm happy to be there because the Nerd Squad is adorable!

There's M----, the tat'ed, pierced, cool-looking guy who studies Latin and philosophy.
There's S---, the adorable dork who seems like he would hold your hand and do cute couple-y stuff without being forced.
There's L----, the ironically hip, quiet guy who is really entertaining when he speaks.
And, there's M---, the sincerely intelligent, average guy.

I don't actually know any of their relationship statuses, but they like Supernatural, Doctor Who, Syfy, and Paradise Lost. So, basically, they're all boyfriend material. Which probably means they're all very, extremely taken.

Also, I sincerely hope (though it's highly unlikely) that if any of them were to see this, they would be flattered and not creeped out.

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.

Crush-worthy Guy Alert

There's this guy that has a PO Box at the Post Office station in our store, and I think I could really be in danger of having an actual crush on him. He's young, probably late twenties, and nice looking. His hands are rough and usually dirty from work, He owns his own landscaping business. And on top of owning a fairly successful business of his own, he comes from money, so my inner gold-digger is intrigued. Beyond that, though, he seems like a really nice, down-to-earth kind of guy. He's polite and always speaks when he sees one of us that work in the store.

Unfortunately, I've got no idea how to get him talking. I know that once he gets started, getting him to stop is a chore, but I can't get a conversation going. So, I guess I'll just settle for smiling at him everyday and giving him his change. Mine is a pathetic way of life.

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.

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.

It's Possible That Hell Has Frozen Over

So... I might being meeting up with a guy later this week.

I'll let you digest that for a minute.

Yeah, I know, I can't believe it, either.

It all started when we got a new boss at work who had met her boyfriend on Plenty of Fish. That set E---- to nagging non-stop about me trying online dating. I tried telling her that I had tried it in the past and felt uncomfortable with it, but she just kept at me, and (as usual) she won. In the end, I broke down and made profiles on PoF and OkCupid, both of which I had tried before, and both of which and had met douche bag guys on.

About a week after I joined, I told E---- about this guy who had messaged me, but after I messaged him back, his reply was a little bizarre. Bizarre enough that I didn't think I wanted to reply back, so I just left it. As I was telling the story, she kept wanting to see my profile, so, finally, I let her read it. She ripped my poor little profile apart. Everything about it was bad. I showed her a couple more of the guys that had contacted me, and she was as unimpressed as I.

So, I rewrote my entire profile, and again, this guy messaged me, the same guy as before, but this time, he was really nice. He told me that he thought I seemed interesting and that I was very pretty, blah blah blah, and he gave me his phone number. With a what-the-hell-why-not attitude, I texted him. He asked what I was doing this weekend, and I told him that I had to work all weekend. Then he said that he gets off at four all week this week, if I wanted to hang out. I told him what days I was free, and he said he would text me this week.

Now, I know that whether or not this happens remains to be seen, but it's the closest I've come to a date. Like ever. I'm not so much excited as I am nauseous, and I'm working really hard to keep my expectations at rock bottom levels. E----, J----, and U------ are all incredibly excited. E---- said that she wants to take all responsibility for this date (the one that's not even planned yet), and I said, "Great, because if he turns out to be a serially killer, I'm coming back to haunt you!"

Anyway, wish me luck with this longshot. Advice is greatly appreciated (and openly solicited) either about the "date" or about online dating.

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.

He got an "A" for effort...

I barely scored passing marks.

Last night, N---- and I were closing together, and at one point we were both on the register. It just worked out that the last guy in my line was cute. Not super cute, but cute in a guy-that-would-make-you-laugh kind of way. He was tall-ish, with blond hair, a cute smile, and a heather-grey t-shirt that said "My [Heart] Belongs to a Zombie" on it.

As I was checking him out, we made small talk (while N---- listened). He had just gotten off work, blah blah blah. It was nice, lots of smiles and eye contact and nervous laughter. Basically, it was flirting. As flirty as I can be, anyway.

When he left, N---- was waiting with a play-by-play. What I did right, what I did wrong. She liked the small talk. He was cute. His game was good. I did pretty well for a beginner. I should have asked where he worked. On and on.

Then, when I said "oh well" because there are no do-overs (I still haven't forgiven myself for the D----- incident), she said, "Uh, yeah there are. It's called another cute guy comes in and you talk to him."

Then, because N---- has some weird clairvoyance or something (seriously, she always schedules my off days on days when it rains!), another guy did come in. He wasn't as cute as the first guy, but still cute, and he was nice. We chatted, and then, I gave him his total, $6.66. He sort of made a joke about it, and I told him that where I used to work, one of the beers, if you bought it by itself, was $6.66. He said, "Did you work at, like, a gas station or something...?" I said, "No, I... well, I used to work in Disney World." He thought that was cool, and asked me couple of things about working there, so we ended up talking for probably five minutes. Which is a lot when you consider that I was just supposed to be ringing him up.

Unfortunately, for me, Sensei N---- wasn't around to grade my progress or give me pointers. But, in my self-assessment, I think I did pretty darn well. I mean, really, I chatted up two guys in one night. That's a lot when you consider I've never done that before, like ever.

I get points for trying, right?

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.

First Major Expedition: The Game Plan

In less than 48 hours, I'll be out with the girls for my first foray into alcohol-fueled manhunting antics. Pretty much everyone in my life has asked me two questions: 1) Are you excited? and 2) Are you nervous? The answers are yes, and yes.

I'm excited to be getting all dolled up, going out with my friends, and having a good time. I'm nervous because I don't drink often, and I've never even been to a bar, so I don't know what to expect. I'm also nervous because I've signed over all styling choices to N----, E----, and N----'s sister, K----, who will be doing my hair and make-up.

So, here's the game plan for Friday:

• I get off at 3:45 pm, so after I get off, I'll come home and shower and put on my dress. But I'm forbidden from wearing any make-up.
• I'll pick A--- up around 7
• We'll get to N----'s house around 8 so K---- can do my hair and make-up.
• E---- gets off at 9, so she'll come over and get ready, and then by 10 or 10:30, we'll all be ready to go.

The plan gets a little fuzzy after that. Several places have been discussed, so I'm not sure where we're going exactly. All I know is somewhere downtown.

Also, N---- informed me today that she's going to have a shot waiting for me when I walk through her door, and that once E---- gets there, I'll probably have to do at least one more. In fact, she and U------ told me that I should probably start drinking water and taking aspirin right now to cope with Friday night. That sounds encouraging, right?

So, I currently have two bottles of water next to my bed, I've been using Jergen's Express Glow lotion for the last couple of days (it hasn't helped much), and I'm about to remove my Nashville Predators playoff themed nail polish. I'm as ready as I'll ever be for this, so bring it on.

A Little White Lie of Omission

I can not tell a lie. Well, I can. I'm actually pretty good at it, but that's beside the point.

Point being that I've omitted a small detail, mostly because it was utterly unimportant, but I feel a little guilty. The whole idea of this blog is to capture and share my thoughts on how stupid my (nonexistent) love life is, so if I don't share everything, then, I'm not fulfilling my purpose.

So, here it is: E---- almost found me a blind date.

She had a friend that knew someone, and she was really excited. She even made me give her a picture of me to send to her friend to show him. I don't know if my picture ever actually made it to this random man or not, but it is a damn good picture, if I do say so myself.

Anyway, the other day, she broke the bad news: he's 32.

Now, that gives me the opportunity to discuss my age policy.

• Ten years older is my age limit. Now, yes, I am 22 and BDG (Blind Date Guy) is 32, but just because the limit is ten years, that doesn't mean I'm actively searching for someone ten years older. In fact, I'm actively searching for someone 2-4 years older. The other issue is that at 32 a person (ideally) should be fairly settled into life. BDG is a manager at a hotel in Huntsville. So... that doesn't work for me.
• Born after October 20, 1989 is too young. I'm more strict about this one than the other one because I am not going to end up older than my husband unless I out-live him. That's just the way it is, because while I can't wait to call him "grandpa" when we're I'm middle-aged and he's looking fifty squarely in the eye (fifty is not all that old, it's just the standard joke birthday), I do not want to be the first one to hit old age.

Also, there's the maturity level issue. Someone ten years older than me is not going to have the generational outlook that someone nearer my age would, and I behave more maturely than someone younger than me (and pretty much anyone my age, too). I keep hoping that this will be less true (and matter less) as I get older, but so far, it hasn't.

Not to mention, when you hear about pretty much any man over thirty dating a girl under the age of about twenty-seven, you immediately assume she's a slut. At least, that's the prevalent opinion where I am currently living, and yes, I am that shallow that I care what people are saying about me. Anyone who says they don't is lying through her teeth to you and herself.

So, if I'm going to have the "significant age difference" speech with my parents, grandparents, friends, extended family, and every other nosy person in this little southern town, that guy better be a 9.5 or higher. And since that's seriously unlikely, not least of all because I'm not 9.5 compatible, I said probably not to the blind date set up.

The Way You Flirt, Sir...

...it pisses me off.

Tonight, I worked 11am to almost 10pm. About eight hours into my shift a couple of guys came in They may have been a little older than me, but not much, and they were okay looking guys; you know, not movie stars, but not skeezy or gross. Anyway, I said hello when they walked in, then went about my business.

A few minutes later, the Talker walked up to me and said, "I'm ready to check out, are you ready to check me out?" Like right up in my face. Now, it's true, if my day up 'til then hadn't been quite so stupid, I probably wouldn't have been so bothered by his tone, but today pretty much sucked, so I regret nothing.

I went to the register, and was checking him out, and he just kept asking me things and talking to me in the same tone where I knew he was joking (and probably trying to flirt) but really all he was accomplishing was pissing me off. At one point, he said, "Oh, you don't have to keep calling me 'sir,' you're probably older than me, anyway."

At this point, I feel that I need to interject that I can't even get into rated R movies without every employee in the theatre checking my I.D., so no, I don't look old, asshat. I mean, seriously, how the hell was I supposed to respond to that? After that he asked if I'd had a long day, because "the humor's just not rolling on you the right way." I said that my day had, in fact, been long, that I'd been there since 11 and didn't get off until 9:30.

Then, it was his friend's turn to check out, and the Talker still wouldn't shut up! He said, "This guy [his friend] will smile at you to make you day better. [Friend], smile at her." His friend then said, "Shut up, [Talker's-Real-Name-That-I-Didn't-Catch]," under his breath. That got sort of a derisive snort from me, which was apparently encouragement for the Talker, who then proceeded to celebrate his ability to get any reaction (which, I'll admit, at that point, it was pretty impressive, because usually that deep into a stupid predicament, I'm totally shut down, and not even pay attention to anything but escape) from me at all.

Thankfully, they didn't hang around. That whole story might have ended a lot differently if I had been in better humor, but seriously, dude, your idea of flirting is stuck in the third grade. Teasing and talking down to me is not the quickest way to my heart. In fact, it's pretty damn close to the quickest way to piss me off. So, I have yet again, successfully shut down a guy who might possibly have been interested in me. Fuck my life.

First Major Expedition: Prepwork

As the name suggests, this blog is supposed to be about me chronicling my search for the elusive eligible bachelor. So, finally, I am in the process of planning an actual manhunting outing instead of just wandering through life hoping I trip over a great guy.

My co-workers E---- and N---- along with myself and possibly my friend, A---, will be going out for a night on the town next Friday. To most people, this sounds typical, boring, even, but you have to remember, I drink like once a year, maybe, and I go clubbing... umm, never. So, for me, the prospect of going out with the girls is exciting, verging on terrifying.

So, my first instructions were to find a suitable dress. I started my mission last Thursday in between my exams, and tried on a ton of dresses. The few that I deemed worthy of second opinions were photographed and sent to my sister and E----. That day, I think there was a total of three dresses.

Then, Saturday, K----, my sister, and I were planning to go to the art festival downtown, but first, I wanted to meet up with E---- and see if we could find a dress. We shopped, and shopped, and shopped; seriously, for hours all I did was try on dress after dress. E---- left no dress unturned. Until, finally, we were back to the store where I had found a dress that I really liked when I was looking on Thursday.

I tried it on for them, and what do you know? Both of them (plus N----, who was weighing in her opinion via text) agreed that was the dress. So, now, I have to figure out some shoes and jewelry.

That's the dress. So, anybody got any suggestions for shoes, jewelry, hair, or make-up? 

Promise to keep you up-to-date on this upcoming expedition!

Today Was "The Most"

It was. I thought I was exhausted having not gone to sleep until 3:30 am until I checked facebook and N---- hadn't gotten home from the club until 6 am. That was my first clue that today was just going to be stupid. The two of us do stupid stuff when we aren't dog tired, but both of us dog tired working all day shifts. Go ahead and write it off as a dumbass day.

Then, customers just kept doing stupid shit. One man brought in a floppy disk to see if we could process pictures stored on it. Let me run that by you again. He had a floppy disk. I literally saw it and thought, "What the fuck is that?" That's how long it's been since they've been relevant. And that was one of the more pleasant dumbass moments of the day.

One woman asked me 87 questions. While I was trying to walk through the store to the restroom.
I couldn't remember how to do the morning paperwork.
It took me like four hours to put all the sale signs up in the vitamin section.
A woman asked me a question about phone cards. I told her I didn't know anything about them, that the company I work for doesn't do anything but sell them, and that she would have to call the customer service number on the back of the card. And she still kept asking me about the stupid cards! For half an hour! WTF?!
The some grown-ass men came in and started bouncing the balls that we have in one of those weird bungee cord cage things. It pisses me off when little kids do it. Turns out, it pisses me off more when grown-ass men do it.

But all of that to say that today, during "the most" bizarre day I've had in a while, I am almost certain I checked out D-----, one of the local hockey players. And instead of asking if it was him, or making conversation, or flirting, I stared at him like he had six heads.

What the hell am I doing!? He was cute. He may have been a hockey player. He had epic facial hair. He had a nice voice. And all I did was ask if he had one our cards, give him his total, and tell him to have a great day! All while staring at him with this goofy-ass grin.

Excuse the French I'm using liberally today, but FUCK! No wonder I'm single. I've got about as much game as  a dead sloth.

Honestly, the best thing I can say about the whole thing is that he smiled at me the whole time I was staring at him. I'd love to have a do-over.

With Friends Like That, I'd Be Better Off With Enemies

There's this man, old man, that works next door to the drugstore I work at, and he buys his cigarettes from us. He also has a not so subtle crush on me. He's 51. That's 5 years older than my dad. And he works part-time at a fast food chain, has been evicted twice in the last year, and is greasy, icky, gross, skeezy.

So, pretty much every time he comes in, my coworkers find a way to make me talk to him. Tonight I was zoning the back when E----- paged me to the front. I didn't see him until it was too late to turn around and hide, so I had to go up to ask what she needed even though U------ was up there and could have taken care of anything she needed. When I asked what she needed (I was already pretty sure of the answer), she said that J--- just wanted to speak to me and make my day.

The whole time J--- was talking, I was glaring daggers at U------ and E-----. If I could have killed them then, I would have. He just kept talking about going home to bake a cheesecake (which they were quick to tell him I liked and would love to try), and how his online classes are going.

Eventually, he ran out of things to say (twice) and he just stood there looking at me awkwardly while I imagined U------ and E----- spontaneously combusting.

Finally, an old couple walked up and asked me where something was. Now, I knew we didn't have what they wanted, and I knew exactly where it would be if we carried it, but I insisted on helping them look for it as though it might actually be there. I pretty much ran to the back with them without even acknowledging that I was walking away from a conversation.

The lady even said that they didn't mean to interrupt, but I told her it was fine. Then, when I walked back up front, I made absolutely certain that J--- was already gone. Then, I proceeded to berate my "friends."

Oh, You're Flirting With the Girl at the Pharmacy...

...wonder how your wife would feel about that.

It drives me crazy when married men flirt. You're married!!! I know that our society has pretty much lost all respect for marriage, but just think about what your wife would think if she were there to see you.

On top of that, I'm not interested in a married man. If you're willing to cheat on your wife, then you sure as hell can't be trusted to be faithful to the other woman.

So, just because you call me "Darling" and smile and wink and tease and FLIRT, that doesn't make you any less married or me any more interested. It just makes you an asshat that I'm going to make fun of when you walk away.