a draft from Thursday

Whoops, somehow this never got posted?

One way to ensure all your staff will actually come to your monthly meeting?

Come bearing treats.

Today it's cupcakes. Last month it was lemon meringue cake/pie.

This is lovely, and of course I'll eat a cupcake if everyone else is doing it... but our staff meetings are at 9:30 am. I feel like they're pumping us full of sugar like a 5 year old before kindergarten. Never a good idea when productivity is your day's goal.

German lover boy called me last night. Seems trivial right? Well, you're wrong. Remember that we have been communicated via COMPUTERS for the past half a year. Of course I knew him in college, but we never were actually pursuing one another's attention at that time, so this is big. And I loved it. I loved his voice (fucking dreaaaaamy) and it was just so easy to talk to him. Of course I was giddy for hours.

More in a few hours.

Cupcake time.

A little too late now that I've actually hung out with Pete but whatever.

the first encounter

Well, the first encounter since our last encounter.

I met up with German Lover Boy last night. Poor Precious Pete is just no longer doing it for me. This is old news, I know.

So yeah, last night was German Lover Boy - he needs a new name by the way, since he's no longer in Germany, and he's not German either, he's a straight up American guy, but whatever. It was his first night out in the city since he got home last week!! And I knew he wanted to meet up and I was wicked excited obviously, like freaking out excited, but I had this terrible feeling in the back of my mind that we just wouldn't be able to get our shit together. He was going to a bar on the opposite side of the city and I didn't think I'd be able to convince my friends to go there.

Well I diiiiiiiid obviously and it was fabulous. Even though he's not as attractive as I've built him up to be (in my head, over the last year) he was so fucking adorable, like still a hot guy. I didn't like his hair, at all, but I have to stop being so damn picky and judgemental... at SOOOOME point.

Unlike Precious Pete, I did NOT bring him home or go home with him... and we didn't even kiss! Definitely would have had he tried, but he didn't and I love it! He was there for like 5 different birthdays and he had a ton of friends from home who he hadn't seen since he'd come home and I totally understood (and enjoyed) that we didn't spend the whole night dancing or making out in the corner. Not that I do that. And I really don't like dancing all night. I hate sweating.

So we spent just the right amount of time together, it was great, my friends loved him, I loved him, he made me laugh, he saw that I'm fun and awesome (haha just kidding) and when he was saying goodbye he was like: "Well can I come in sometime this week and see you?"

Uhhh do you seriously think you need to ask? Hello, if I had some balls I'd tell him to get his (very nice looking) ass into the city TOMORROW and hang out with me on Columbus day!

But I doubt that will happen...

And it gets better.

Despite the fact that I sent him a text message after the bars closed pretty much insinuated that I wanted him to come home with me (did you really think I made it through the whole night without potentially making a fool of myself???) ... HE CALLED ME THIS MORNING!

When I was laying in bed moaning, whining and trying not to vomit - I also had my sappy music playing extremely loud becuase I was trying not to avoid hearing my roommate have morning sex - my phone rang and it was him!

My first thought was oh my god what did I do last night that is mkaing him call, is he calling to say he hates me ? That I'm an idiot? That I lost my dignity and he had found it somewhere laying in the street?

Oh no, nice, amazing Pete just called to say good morning!

The end.

oh the horror

I have discovered that Precious Pete is the world's worst, and I mean worst, kisser. This is not a joke. Go back a few blogs and you'll remember my flawed rationale - I was pretty much blacked out by the time we got home from our date and although I know we had sex and I do have this faint memory of him inside me, I couldn't remember if he was good or bad in bed. For whatever reason, I thought that I'd have remembered if he was just so bad, so in fact, he must have been good! Oh great.

Oh no. Saturday night, and Sunday morning informed me that he is in fact, legitimately, really, actually the world's WORST KISSER! Oh, the horror, the disappointment. Precious Pete has everything going for him. He's attractive and adorable, intelligent (in LAW SCHOOL!!), funny, talkative, social, sweet, just eveeeeeerything I could ask for. He has even stated multiple times how much he adores me. I loove being smothered with with these coments! (Or at least in the intial stages of courting it's nice).

He can't kiss to save his life. And what is so strage is that he's like 25 or 26 and been in really long serious relationships so I'm just absolutely dumbfounded. My sister suggested that perhaps his poor ex was just an equally horrific kisser, or she just didn't care.

Nuh uh... you can't just not care. Kissing is everything! I mean, obviously it is not but it leads to everything else and yes... I take that back, it is everything. Kissing is all day, every day, in a million different ways at different times to tell someone different things and feel different things and aaaaaaaaah!

I don't even think I can train this poor man.

And the worst part is that even though I had all day, while laying on the couch, watching football, snoozing left and right, to think this over - I have no idea what I'm going to do... I mean, can I really stop seeing this guy because he's a bad kisser? OF COURSE! is my first reaction, but then I remember his long list of fabulous attributes and I just feel uugh the worst surge through my body of utter disappointment.

He's fabulous. How do I fix this?

Of course the other piece to the puzzle to remember is that German Lover Boy is coming home now in 6 days, and we've made even more plans to hang out. My dear guy friend Brett who I tell literally everything [I think before this blog, in my selective-honesty phase of life, I really did tell him everrrrything] anywaysssss, so Brett thinks I'm going to go with Pete #1 - German Lover Boy - because due to his collegiate sport past, we're thinking he's going to turn out to be a "dick head meat head." Whereas one would think that would turn me off, Brett and I both know that I tend to fall hard for those kind of guys.

Sue me, I'm yet another stupid stereotype - I always fall for the bad guys. Not necessarily the badass guys, but the ones who will inevitably break my heart.

Remember how I called Nick and Kenny before my date with Pete # 2 - Precious Pete? THe one thing they both said was that he was such an awesome guy and he would, I quote, never break my heart. Brett heard this and wasted no time chirping in with his opinion (which is unfortunately pretty accurate). He said if Pete is the kind of guy who would never break my heart than I'm sure to "split his in two." Oh Brett, how well you know me. See nice guys, and me... don't mix. Sure I love how sweet he is now, and ooooh it just melts my heart to hear him actually use the word "adore" when he talks about how much he is enjoying his time with me... I'm doomed. I'm going to pick Pete #1, and in a months time I'll be back here crying, telling you how he's a douche and he broke my heart and I'm devasted and should have stuck with Precious Pete... even though he's a terrible kisser.

Ich bin verliebt

I Googled that.

I don't know a single word of German. Do you blame me? It's not exactly the prettiest looking, or sounding language. Anyways, it's not like Pete knows any German either. And this is Pete, who claims he is actually good at picking up languages, who has lived in Germany for 9 months now. He doesn't know a thing. He certainly doesn't know Ich bin verliebt which I just learned means I'm in love.

And I know, I know, I'm not actually in love - I'm not pretending to be, or even trying to convince myself I am. Awww, he shall be called German Lover Boy.

This is lust at its best. Like the giddy, can't stop smiling when he sends me a message kind of lust. And sending messages is all we can do, after all, he is in Germany. BUT lucky me, this beautiful, tall, athletic, dark hair, big smile, Italian hunk is moving home TO AMERICA in 2 weeks. And his best friends just happen to live down the road from my new apartment. Oh isn't it wonderful how some things work themselves out?

So this brings me to a very important (must try and think about this one before I get myself all worked up over something that's just destined to crash and burn) point. I have a eh hem... tendency... long history, bad habit, of...

only wanting what I can't have.

Spare me the gasps and the rolling of the eyes. I get it, this is nothing new. It's actually so cliche that I'm a bit disappointed in myself. I should have come up with something new. Some bad habit that's all my own.

Well I didn't. I like the chase. I like the flirting and the lust and all the good stuff that comes before well, before I get whatever it is I thought I wanted. Play Train song in background: "In a world that what we want is only what we want until it's ours." Yea, yea, yea.

So I'm a little afraid that as soon as German lover boy over there across the pond comes home, and we hang out... well, I'll get over him. How presumptuous of me! Isn't it? I mean, that's assuming that this hunk of a man enjoys my company, wants to spend time with me, even likes me just a little bit. Whatever, I also have a tendency of thinking all these things will come true. I try and avoid calling this cocky or overconfident - because I'm far from either... and I don't like saying that I'm just being an optimist - because, well I'm most cynical.

I think it's best to give myself the least amount of credit here and say I'm just damn desperate, and obsessed with men. Since they are all I think about, boyfriend, dating, hooking up, husband - well I have to assume he's going to like me when he gets home. Otherwise that puts a quick end to my daydreaming...

And I still have 2 weeks to daydream about how perfect we could be :)

I will certainly keep you updated. We have a big date planned for when he arrives! Yes, I said it... a DATE. Like he asked me out on a date. Kind of, I mean we both talked about hanging out and agreed on it, but nooow the way he talks about it, it's like a date.

So go with me here, I never get asked out on dates. Again, I'm sure (I hope, I tell myself) it has nothing to do with me or my crazy basketcase-ness... it's just that no one goes on legit dates anymore. Not at my college and not at my age. Maybe later in my twenties the dating world will resurface. I hope?