Decisions, decisions...

I recently came into information that my ex has somehow magically stumbled onto this blog. I guess I have to be a little more careful to whom I give the address next time... Well, now I am left with a dilemma:

Do I make this blog private?

Do I move it to a different blog hosting site?

Do I change the name of this blog?
If yes, do I have to use a whole new email address? Create a new damn profile? Argh.

The blog was written anonymously, with very little distinguishing markers, so I thought I was I fine to keep it public. I liked to think people are stumbling upon my page and liking the scattered thoughts so much, that they follow me! Some random girl they don't even know.

But, I can't be all having this jackass lovely, amazing, charming young fellow getting all up in my bidness, ya heard?

I'm so sad that someone has shared with him the link. I am used to blogger. I like using blogger. I've spent the past couple of hours creating a new email address a new blog site, etc and it has been a total waste of my time. I should have been catching up on the past five months of wild and amazingly fun dates I've been having- complete with steamy, passionate, hands pressed up against the window of a car on the starboard bow sex (or maybe that was in a movie.. I get confused).

So I have this to deal with. I have yet to come up with the best option. Please advise as you see fit. And of course, all readers are invited to follow the new blog, wherever it may end up.

Grrrrrrr. Annoyed doesn't cover it. I don't have time for this! I need to be busy out there saving the world.... one slimy frog at a time.

Suck it, Trebek.

Six Flags!

I know I know... Punch me, please. This date was over a MONTH ago and I am just now getting around to it. How annoying is that? Pretty annoying for you probably. Also unfortunate that I really have forgotten mucho of the details. Oops. I didn't forget that I got so sweaty and gross that I wouldn't want to go on a third date with me either. I also didn't forget that I wont at Whack-a-mole. Take that, cowboy.

Key Points:

1. Alabama bought me a season pass. So if nothing else, best parting gift ever!
2. Texas is HOT in the summer. I made the awful mistake of wearing a thin, skinny strapped tank top (Also possible I flashed him at one point... whoops). I should've worn an undershirt. I was dis.gust.ing. Shirt was soaked. Who would've thought? Maybe that's why there was no steamy make-out at the end of the date... because we spent the whole day being hot and walking around steamy concrete.
3. Going on a weekday cuts down your wait for the rides.
4. Alabama is a beautiful, beautiful man... who talks like Forrest Gump. But, he's smart. He has good things to say and it's kind of cute when he says them with his southern drawl and punctuates with that dimpled smile.
5. He told me a joke that's punch line hinged on "mountain lion" being 2 syllables. We had a ten minute conversation where I tried to explain to him that, no.. mountain lion actually had 4 syllables. I wish I was kidding or exaggerating. I'm not.

(FOUR syllables: moun-tain li-on)

It was all in all a pretty good date, but to be honest.. Even though Jerry told me was not interested in pursuing anything with me and Alabama is a beautiful specimen of man, I knew somewhere in my fails-miserably-at-dating heart and psycho-girl-brain that a guy like Jerry (at least, one that actually wanted to date me and didn't get all weird just because I had a super, what the eff is wrong with me minor little teeny tiny freak out that reminded him of his ex girlfriend...) is a better fit for me; and that a guy who spends two weeks away at work, and spends his two weeks back home hunting, fishing, and doing other hillbilly stuff.

So I came off the date with a season's pass to six flags, some American flag sunglasses, a photo strip with the handsome fella, and a tummy ache from eating a giant Icee... Oh, and a desire to see Alabama with less clothes on.

I tell you folks, breaking up may be hard to do, but dating is pretty stinkin' hard to do, too. I am at my wit's end.

 Yee-haw.

Am I being too picky? Should my standards be lowered? Bummer dates, good guys.... Great dates, bummer guys.... or just good dates, good guys that just aren't that into me. It's supposed to be worth it in the end... right?

Step 2.5: Date 3.0

So we had date one on Thursday, date two on Friday, surely date three will be sometime next week, right? Things are moving pretty quickly.... BUT he is the one that jumped the gun by sending flowers before we even had our first date. He's totally digging me... and I'm okay with this. Maybe I can take a break from finding reasons NOT to like this guy and just let myself like him?

Well, Jerry texts me Saturday saying he knows I'm busy getting ready for a work event the next day, but that he'd really love to see me if he could and can he take me to dinner after he gets some errands done?

Uhm, well... I mean, I guess? (Hey, I said he was "growing on me" not grown on me!) This is moving pretty fast. What about my marriage and happily ever after date with the southern gentleman of my dreams come to life Alabama in a couple of weeks?? So, I plan on dinner with Jerry and get ready to get ready for my day (it takes me a lot of get ready-ing). Around noon, he calls me saying that he got done with some work stuff early, and hey why don't we do all those things I wanted to do today together? Wait, you want to go to Ikea? and Rally House? and Pier One? (Maybe Bed Bath and Beyond but I DON'T KNOW IF WE WILL HAVE ENOUGH TIME) Whoa, fine buddy. I will spend some time with you. Better to figure out early if you are going to annoy the ever living piss out of me so I can move on and move out you of my consideration set.

We do all of those things: I get sad about not finding my Alma Mater's gear at Rally House, we go to Pier One, go to Ikea where I get a bookshelf and play with all the toys. This is actually pretty lucky since it absolutely would not have fit in my car! Then we go to dinner in the Shops at Legacy and I like his eyes... and his smile and oh shit. No NO NO!! But then he's making "us" plans and then we go back to his house, let his dog out, he takes my bookshelf to my apartment, carries it up the stairs and we get down to business. I kind of like how he kisses me and how much he compliments me and all of the sweet things he says....

Alabama who...? Somewhere between Pier One and the Perfect Summer Beer, I realize that while Alabama might have been very exciting because he's so handsome and charming and was the first guy that didn't make me want to join a nunnery... maybe he wasn't the perfect match for me. This guy has a lot of things I liked and I was starting to get kind of excited to learn more...

 (Wait, am I doing this wrong?)

Well damn. I'm totally still going to Six Flags though.

Step 2: The Dating

So, after date one on Thursday, he texts me when he gets home with his date recap (Back story: Before our first date, but after we started talking, he went on a couple of other first dates and I jokingly asked for a recap once, and then he would do it after each of them.). He tells me he had an amazing time and that I was everything he hoped I would be in person, and looks forward to seeing me again (again, I wish I still had the original message saved). Well, I had emailed Alabama on Thursday about having some extra comedy show tickets and after he emailed me back (two days later, of course) saying he would not be in town and able to go (but could I go to Six Flags on the 29th? YES I CAN!!), I think "what the heck! Hey Jerry, I had a good time too, and usually I wouldn't do this, but do you want to come to a comedy show tomorrow night?"

Of course he does. He is smitten with me. Two dates in two days... whoa. Okay, still have cute conversation all day Friday and we try to figure out the before show "do we eat there? can we eat there? do they have food? we can get food nearby?" food situation.. we briefly discuss having a Totino's pizza (a personal fave- don't judge me, dammit) picnic, but I was feeling bratty, thinking about my upcoming date with Alabama and decided against the dinner in front of my apartment option. He picks me up, I'm annoyed that he couldn't follow my simple directions to get to my apartment. We get to the theatre, I'm annoyed-er because he wasn't doing a good job getting to a parking spot. Why am I so aggravated?!? No clue... or maybe I hate hate hate being late and HE IS MAKING ME LATE. Whatever. This guy is whatever. Ugh.

Then we go in, he is nice to my friends, he buys everyone's first drink and we hang out and talk. He's interesting and sweet and he's growing on me. The comedy show is terrible. Screech (yeah, that's right- from Saved by the Bell) is definitely not funny. Just gross and dirty and raunchy and talk about an uncomfortable second date! Well, the show ends, I get my picture with Dustin Diamond and we head out. What do you want to do? Oh, I dunno. What do you wanna do? Oh I dunno- okay, you get how this goes. We end up down at a bar on lower Greenville that has noone there where we are just going to have a couple of drinks and chat. Or so we thought... UNTIL!! (dun dun dun) What do I spy?! NUDIE PHOTO HUNT! Which normally might not be that exciting, but I was pretty excited. We end up playing for a couple of hours and it is a ton of fun. He's growing on me =)

Time to go home, walks me to my door (deal breaker if I'm left to brave the walk to my own door in case of villains, bad guys, dragons, etc), goes in for the kiss, and 15 minutes later, I decide it's better to move this party inside, what with the neighbors and all.

He heads home three hours later (no slumber party!), and texts me when he gets home. He tells me about what an amazing night he had and how he looks forward to seeing me again- and can't wait until he gets to. =)

Step 1: The Courtship

I get a great email from Jerry. He looks pretty cute, but his email is what gets me. He's funny, paid attention to what I wrote and seemed genuinely interested in knowing me better. He asked me inquisitive questions in a funny manner and his messages make me smile. We quickly move to hilarious email banter and then he gives me his number. I tell him I am uncomfortable providing mine because I don't want any Anthony pics. He told me I was a fool for thinking he would actually give me his real number and had instead given me the number to a Dominoes in Flower Mound. It is funny and weird that we spent that entire Friday night texting about pizza. And only pizza. He was Dominoes and I was Edgar... And he was funny! Okay, so I can hang out with this guy as I patiently (not patiently) wait for my Six Flags date with Alabama.

 (not really an exaggeration)

We are texting constantly. He calls me. He tells me how excited he is to meet me. He has flowers delivered to my office on Monday before our first date on Thursday. I'm beginning to feel just a LITTLE bit freaked out... Why does he like me so much? He hasn't even met me? Why did he send these flowers? What is going on? Is he overcompensating? Is he actually a psycho? I don't know! But, I am willing to give him a chance because I do like talking to him. Also, I like people that like me. Makes me feel good. And popular. And pretty. But really, is this guy going to be a total weirdo with no social skills?

I ask him what picture of his looks most like him. He doesn't know.. huh? He says that picture XYZ is most recent. Hmm.. I'm concerned that maybe the cute pictures don't accurately depict him and that the other ones are questionable. I am sad. What if he's terrible and makes me want to punch out my own eyeballs?

So he suggests Victor Tango's. Thursday. 7 pm. What should I wear? (Oh eff. This BS again??) I decide to wear a dress that I had purchased awhile ago for a different date that I never ended up wearing. It's one of the cutest dresses I own and I pretty much rocked it. I go to meet him. He's actually tall! And pretty cute. Great! We have a really good dinner and conversation. A girlfriend of mine works there, so that was pretty fun to mess with him for a bit until I told him I knew her. He asks me if I am okay with a little walking (I had told him a terrible date story where he made me walk through downtown FTW in heels. in a dress. in December.).

I'm okay with a little walking. He takes me to Barnes and Noble where he purchases me three things:

1. The Alchemist (As a thank you for introducing him to my favorite book of all time: The Art of Racing in the Rain, which he also loved and felt obligated to repay me)
2. The Last Lecture (He thought I should read it)
3. The T-Shirt Game (I was actually going to purchase this for myself because it looked fun and then he up and snatched it from me)

Then he took me back to the restaurant to retrieve my car, waited with me for it and we parted ways. A lovely date.

All in all, I had a fun time. He's smart, listens to me, is up for trying new things and he's interested in me. I'm not smitten, but I like him. There's some chemistry, maybe. We'll see.

Are those bobbers on your sunglasses?

After my oh-so-charming date with Shooter McGavin, I make a rash decision and agree to a next night date... on a Friday. I'm mad at the world match.com for putting me through this, so I could really give a flying fish about this date. I mean... let's look at the facts:

He is from Alabama (hillbilly).
He went to A&M (this again??).
He was in the army.
He travels for his work (gone for a few weeks at a time).

I grab a dress and some sandals, throw them on and I'm good to go... Wait, I have a few minutes. I guess I can brush my hair. I know I'm going to show up and he is going to have arrived on either a horse (And no, my initial posting of wanting my prince to show up on a horse is NOT foreshadowing. this would be a yeehaw horse- not the valiant steed of a knight in shining armor), or he'd show up in a big ol' truck. Quite possibly maroon (TAMU). Maybe with a camo gun rack and deer antlers attached somewhere.

I get to Gloria's, and as I am walking up I get a message from Alabama that just says "here." Excellent. A well-spoken man of many words... I should probably keep this in mind in all future textual communication from this boy. I see a GIANT white truck with a rack (bike, not gun) on top and giggle a bit to myself that maybe that's his.

I walk in, flustered because I just had to walk a couple blocks due to the terrible parking conditions, and I am 2 minutes late. I hate. hate. hate being late to ANYthing... which is probably the number one reason MP and I did not work out... Well, maybe the top ten.

I look around. I don't see him. Maybe I see him? I text him to find out if he put our name down on the list and is he here because I do not see him. Rawr, rawr, rawr. In my head, I semi-joke with myself that he is the brown haired boy sitting at the bar with the maroon (A&M, duh) hat, the sunglasses with the little floatie bobbers, and the white button up, yet construction looking shirt. It's kind of a joke, right? because I think in my head that that HAS to be him, it won't be and I am going to feel silly for thinking he's SUCH a... hillbilly country boy.

No, Self, I say go with your gut. You are a genius with an uncanny knack of knowing stuff (psychic). He walks up, says my name, shakes my hand, and as I look into those eyes of his: game.over. I no longer care if he is wearing damned camo overalls and a cowboy hat (he's not really... at least, not tonight).

"I think I saw your truck," says me.
"Oh, the white one?" says him. (I KNEW IT!!! ME=GENIUS/PSYCHIC (situational analysis))

Let's look at some other facts:

I dated a guy from ENNIS, Texas whom I kind of adored.
He drove a big ol' truck, had a good lil dog and plaid sheets....
He was a cop, he dipped, liked to sit in his lazy-boy and watch baseball.... and I melted every time he called me "lady." Swoon, I tell you... swoon. So maybe, despite my best intentions I have a thing for country boys.

Again, I digress. We sit down.. He says things like "momma" and "Daddy" and had perfect teeth and these dimples, and a smile that made me sweaty... and I loved him was having a wonderful time. Am I in a match.com commercial?? Will they kick me out of this place if I crawl over the table and kiss him?

These flies on my food are hilarious. The annoying couple next to us are simply charming. My glasses? They are quite lovely, aren't they.... what with this rose color and all. "Oh, what's that Alabama? You dropped your fork on the ground and just asked to use mine? That's unfortunate, of course you may!" (Seriously?? What is wrong with me?? Red flag! Red flag! Knock if off, blondie! That is dis.gus.ting.... but, it says that he trusts me and wants to be closer with me, right...?).

Dinner is wonderful (don't remember what I ordered). Conversation was perfect (don't know what we talked about). and I have fallen in love and would like to go on a second date. He drove me to my car, called me darlin', and waited until I was safe and sound in the driver's seat. He even invited me to come hang out in FTW with his friend and him... but I opted not to. I needed to go drink more Sangria and name our unborn children.

This is a good look for me, anyway:

I love you. Call me.

Hit me with your best shot...

Another date, another... dollar? I don't know. I wish my dates would give me a dollar. And if I liked them, I could give it back in exchange for a kiss... I just thought of that, but that's pretty good. Not only would it pay for my time, but it would take the does-he-or-does-he-not-like-me and will-he-or-won't-he-call-me nerve-wracking, time-wasting, ego-destroying aspect out of this awful, Guantanamo Bay-esque torture some of you like to call "dating." But, I digress.... I had a date about a week and a half ago with a lovely young man that let's just call Shooter (Shooter McGavin, anyone? pow pow pow).

Our original date was canceled and he promised that he would absolutely not cancel again- but since he was stuck traveling and he just wasn't going to make it back in time, he just wasn't going to be able to make this date. Fine, fine. I understand- stuff comes up. But, as I now had a bit more time on my hand, I decided to peruse his profile and see what I was missing out on. First off, he didn't really have any good pictures of him on his profile. WHY? I do.not.understand why guys don't have any good, solid pictures of themselves- showing their faces from at least 3 different angles, NOT taken in a mirror with a cell phone. Second, Shooter had TWO pictures (out of his six) of his dog; not of him and his dog mind you, but just his dog. Beautiful golden retriever? Ferocious German shepherd? Oh no, no...

Please know that I didn't even have to google this picture.... I was able to pull it directly off of his page.

I love animals. LOVE THEM.... but I just have a hard time wrapping my head around a man who owns such a... frilly little dog. The kicker is that it isn't the residue of some break-up... He bought it himself. Seriously, man? In addition, when describing the dog, he called it a "Shit Zu" and said that Harley was the love of his life.

Alrightie then... now I am hoping that maybe he does choose to never reschedule our date- despite his funny emails and offerings of a date to an iguana farm. He doesn't. We schedule a date... one that I accidentally set for a Thursday during Mavs playoffs on accident. He said he promised not to reschedule, so he agreed on Thursday. We meet at the restaurant... I feel bad about only being free on this Thursday, but maybe he isn't a huge Mavs fan? Wrong. He loves the Mavs. He told me they were his all time favorite team ever. Oops. He loves them more than I love Mizzou... Wait, wait wait. I am lying. He cannot possibly love ANYTHING more than I love the Tigers, but... you get it. Sorry Shooter.

The food is fine- we split a little flatbread appetizer thing and I have a salad... and that's it. WTF? Is he watching his weight? I think it's weird when dudes do girlie stuff like that... but then again homeboy does own a dog that wears ribbons. He somehow talks me into going to watch the game with him at a bar down the road. Fine, fine. I kind of owe him for making him miss the first quarter (which who cares about anyway), so I oblige. I'm not a heartless bitch that big of a heartless bitch.

We walk into the bar, mosey up to get some drinks, and my darling date asks me if I would like a shot. (I wish I could input that errrrrrr record stopping sound here, but just imagine it)..  What?

"A shot," he says.

Uhm, no... no thanks. It's a school night and I have to work in the morning... How old are you again? Are you 21? I'm sorry, I guess I should've studied your age instead of your ridiculous photos.

Okay, I'm out for the count at this point. He's a spoiled rich kid (drives a new caddie, pulls out rolls of cash, flies around the country "starting his businesses," takes Patron shots at 9 on Thursday nights, and of course, went to Highland Park High School), I'm not impressed at all, and I want to go home.. or at the very least, meet up with my friends to watch the game.

He tells me how much prettier I am in real life than in photos. Neat. Thanks.
He tries to do a sneaky-attack kiss (IN THE MIDDLE OF THE BAR). Seriously dude? Next time you're in the end zone, act like you've been there before... And by end-zone, I mean a first date. I definitely don't mean my panties end-zone. Luckily this ain't my first rodeo so I was able to gracefully and quickly turn his advances away.

He asks me if I would like to watch the rest of the Mavs game at his friend's place. It is apparently more comfy there, and the TV is much easier to see. Again, I've been in the saddle more than once, and no thank you kind sir, I most definitely would not like to do that. Yes, I am sure. Yes, I can see the TV just fine from here. No, I already told you I would not. Yes, I understand you will bring me back to my car, later... Sigh.

The Corona girls where there, and if you let them take your photo, they would give you a free Corona. I need one of those, thankyouverymuch (Now I realize I should've taken that shot, but as they say: hindsight is 20/20). I wish more than anything else in the world right now that I could upload that photo that those lovely ladies took of us so you could how adorable I look, and see his douche-tastic pose... see his squenched eyes, rock & roll mouth and fist-pump arm.... but alas, I cannot. It was like this, but worse:

Much, much worse... I am happy to email actual pic, should you request it =)

There were so, so, so many cute guys in the bar... why am I with this dude?

When the Mavs start to lose, he starts to get upset. Shoves his chair, stomps his feet around... Settle down, dude. They might come back. Much like a pouting child, he assures me that there is no GD way. F this. F that. F the Mavs.

The Mavs won. Told you so, whiny brat.

Yep, high five for you, Shooter!! Hug for this hot guy next to me... maybe an HJ if you'd leave me the eff alone for a few minutes....

Take me to my car. NOW. His kissing attempts are apparently ready for action again. I show him my cheek. Thank him for a lovely night.... And text him that maybe he should've made sure I got safely into my car before screeching your tires and peeling out.

I'm so stunned by this date that when I get home and see an email from a guy that I have been emailing with for months asking (verbatim) "you got plans for dinner tomorrow night?" I inform him that I do not. I never do Friday night first date dates, but whatever. I don't have plans for that night and I have no expectations for this dude who leaves the G off of words and talks like a hillbilly. Where you from, boy? Alabama... what the hell, let's go. Let's just knock these 17 dates out right here. Right now.