So behind in my posting…

ok, so:

Nothing happened with Virginia. He flaked on our second date and then decided he didn’t have any time to spare, even just for a casual sexual rendezvous type of thing. Bummer, cause he REALLY turned me on. Sigh.

Went out for dinner with the Slavic tech guy again. YAWN. Nothing there. NOTHING.

Met up with a friend for cocktails after that dinner with Slavic, yet again that friend kissed me goodnight, but he shows NO interest while we are hanging out. I’m too hot not to be touched. If you want me, take a page from Virginia’s book and put your hands on my arm, my ankles… kiss me DURING the time we are hanging out. Look AT me and not away. Not feeling desired = hey, we are friends and you will NEVER get me naked. NEXT

That’s it right now. The prospects aren’t good. I’ve got some morons who can’t spell…

“Hi georgious.hope to know u and read from u soon…..”
That barely has me keeping my clothes on. Damn!

“We’re you caught speeding lately?
Cause you have got FINE written all over you…”
Oh my god, so fucking witty. I’m ready and primed for you now! Really?! Does this work on some women?

So, that’s my current status. I’m considering asking my readers to set me up with hot geeks. Know any hot geeks?!

P.s. Here is a shout out to my Married Canadian friend who reads along. We had dinner the other night and were talking about my exploits and recent lack of exploits and after a few laughs, he mentioned seeing himself in here… so, here you are M.C. How aboot that? 😉

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Jan 1.

I woke today with the giggles of two young girls crawling into my bed. 3 and 7, my “nieces” are the most incredible children I have known. It was 70 degrees at 9 am when they slowly opened the door and ran under the covers. My best friends were asleep and it was sweet perfection for the half hour  that the girls and I laid in bed chatting. While my friends snuck in an extra couple of hours of sleep, taking advantage of my presence keeping the kids at a slightly quieter tone than normal, I made a traditional Southern New Year’s Day brunch complete with braised ham hocks, Hoppin’ John, collards, pan roasted potatoes, and poached eggs. Once they awoke, we sat together outside, the sun on our faces, and ate too much and laughed just enough. I miss them terribly and wish my reality was a bit closer to theirs, rather than on the other coast. Perhaps that is a change I need to consider.

This year begins a lot differently than last. Last year I was in love with a complicated man, still technically owned my home, still technically owned a small business, although both were in the end process of being given back and dismantled, respectively. I had the very best dog, who was also one of my most dearest friends. Just when I thought my own personal identity couldn’t be anymore shook up, it was. Tested is barely scratching the surface with regards to how I felt many times over. Tortured is definitely how I felt most often.

I don’t believe in Resolutions. I don’t think I did anything necessarily wrong or bad to encourage the harsh events that had unfolded around me in 2011. Will I love less? No. Will I love differently? Quite probably. Each time we love someone, a new person or a past person, the love is a little bit different. It’s nearly impossible to ever love quite the same as you have previously. So, what will the year bring. I have hopes for it. I have wishes and dreams and preferences, but none of these things I can predict as the truth. I have come to learn, through my many painful experiences, that I have far less control over the outcome of things that I once believed.

 

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I’d like to use a lifeline

Friday night I called in a lifeline. I was having a drink with a date that I had already known walking in was a bad idea. Widowed less than 6 months ago by a depressive suicidal wife who took her own life, he was vulnerable,  awkward, and also the epitome of software nerd. This guy, I knew he wasn’t a match, but yet, how do you cancel on someone who’s wife od’d on vicodin just months earlier, leaving behind a confused man and two young boys? You don’t. You go.

So: In the hour I was with him, he didn’t notice, nor offer to go to the bar and get me a drink, as he absent mindeldy just drank his as I stood there without anything in MY hand. He didn’t ask me if/what I wanted. He just struggled for words to fill the spaces. He likes video games and PBS reality shows about pioneering. He awkwardly interjected and introduced himself into conversations with friends I’d run into before I had the opportunity to get to that point in the greeting.  We aren’t talking 5 minutes here. Maybe 45 seconds. He complimented me on my blouse and then asked WHERE I got it. Umm, where I got it? Are you really interested in WHERE I got it? And he can’t follow social cues on where a conversation is heading, instead he forces it into a place that he’s wanting it to live. Sigh. I couldn’t do it, it was painful, both to watch and be involved in, so I politely bailed out.

I then ran into a newish friend and we shared some Indian food and a few cocktails while chatting about men and their foibles.

The night before… I had a great date. Sandwiched between the Man-Child cancellation and the Awkward Widower was a brilliant handsome Aussie who surfs. We are heading out again tonight, a walk with the pup, then a bit of spaghetti western and cocktails. Perfect.

 

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