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.

HOW COULD I FORGET?

Oh wow, I forgot to share this part.

He asked me, legit mid hook up (I think), not while we were actually having sex because I can remember exactly how we were laying and how he looked when he asked me this ah! The AUDACITY of this man!!! Precious Pete no longer so precious!

Okay, okay he goes: "When was the last time you had an orgasm?"

EXCUSE MEEEEEE? Now the question itself was just too good to fall into the I'mreallydrunkandwon'trememberthistomorrow category but what followed after that lovely, sweet, totally normal comment I forget. So it's killing me because not only do I not remember how I replied (I do remember being totally shocked and flabbergasted) but even worse! I don't remember what he explanation was, like excuse me what the fuck does that mean?

So now I'm left, morning after and awfully hungover at work, trying to figure out what was going on in his mind that made him ask me this.

Perhaps I'm just screaming "I'm alone and haven't got laid in ages." (Which thinking back about the night with Adam... I don't necessarily know if I can say that, eh). Maybe it was his way of saying "why won't you just get off already?" Or maybe he just sensed that I was holding something back, not giving in to actually intimacy (was I giving that off? ugh, I try not to let anyone see that).

So this is going to continue to plague me all day. And I texted him over an hour ago (he texted me first, don't worry) but he hasn't responded yet?

Is he already kicking me to the curb? Oh no, I hope he gets over the fact that I put out on the first date and actually wants to see me again. Despite being appalled (but not surprised) but my antics, I really just cannot stop smiling when I think about him and would die if this turns in to another one night stand.

Ugh.

look nice and go home, alone

I slept with him.

I slept with him? We had sex. Oh god.

And he has a small penis.

What better way to let a guy know that not only are you a drunk but that you're also a whore than to get drunk on your first date, take him home, and sleep with him.

I don't even remember if it was good or bad. I'm thinking that it must not have been that bad because, go with this for a second, I'd remember bad sex before I remembered good sex right? Or is that wrong. I don't know. You know what? I don't even mind (right now) that he has a small penis. Because I had a fucking blast yesterday.

Apparently dates are fun! And he was such a gentleman. Unless of course, you think getting a girl drunk, going home with and sleeping with her on the first date disqualifies him from the gentleman award. But he met me outside and opened doors and even pulled out my chair and paid for everything and ordered my drinks (okay maybe that's too much) but he is GREAT! We have so much in common (like sleeping with someone on the first date) and he was extremely easy to talk to and made me laugh and fjdklasfjdkafjdla.

And then we had sex.

At least we used a condom! Hey look at me :) I didn't remember this until I went to make my bed and FOUND IT IN MY BED. I also have no idea how we got home to my apartment. Details.

since when do people go on dates? what IS a date?

I didn't even get to the good part! Whoops.

Soooo, Precious Pete does call Wednesday to talk about what we should do Thursday. All of you out there who read and live by "the rules" go fuck yourself because I can't do those things. I don't care about the three days you have to wait or this or that or blaaah okay.

7:55 pm - Incoming call from: Pete
Ignore!

I chickened out. I'm a baby. I'm childish and immature and EXTREMELY NERVOUS! So I don't pick up or call back right away. I need to first listen to his voicemail and see what he has to say, and then wait, for a good solid chunk of time to calm down and sort out all the things I could possibly say when I do eventually call him back. hummmph

His voicemail is adorable. Makes me giddy, tummy tumbles as my dear friends in the chick lit world might say. He wants to meet up around 8p and wonders where we should go? (We live on opposite sides of the city)

I have no idea where to go? Since when is it my decision? I want him to pick. I'm terrible at making decisions. Most of the time I really just don't care, but I don't like being responsible for things like that... So before I call him back I call two of my trusted guy friends - my older sister's age - who happen to be very, very close friends with Pete. Remember? I told you he was my sister's friend.

They are thrilled, which really, calms my nerves. I learn quite a bit in those two conversations. He's into service work? Volunteering? Who is this guy! I only know him as the cute, blonde drunk that I always partied with in college. (Okay, I knewww there was a sweet side). So again, they are both thrilled that we're going out for drinks, think this could be a great thing in the making, and assure me that he is the chillest, most social, not awkward person so the whole "first date thing" should be an issue.

I seriously doubt that, but I'm trying to relax.

I call him back, and he's great. I find out he's in law school (I guess was too drunk Saturday to remember this) and he finds out I'm living in the same neighborhood as his law school (he was too drunk on Saturday to remember this as well.) Welp, perfect, we can then meet at a bar around his school since he'll be in class until around 8, and I won't have to travel far from my abode.

Oh
my
God.

I'm going on a date.

Who goes on dates?! Adults or something?! This is all a very new, scary world to me. Coming from a school that was well known for the LACK of dating culture and the seriously overbearing hook up culture. We didn't go on dates in college (or high school) until we were already dating someone. I know it's all backwards, as do most of you I'm sure... but my god -

This is a date.

mistake number one through five thousand

Okay here goes... so last night, no Tuesday night - the "after work get together turned black out" night - I fucked up. I get it, I'm flawed, but even worse than that is the fact that I just don't learn from my mistakes! I'm a terrible drunk dialer. More often it's drunk texting, oh what has our generation become, but Tuesday night was a combination of the two.

And I cried. At the bar... to a stranger. What is wrong with me? I honestly think this is a sign of something worse than my drunkenness... like a sign that I need to see a therapist. STAT! I'll get to the crying later.

First, the drunk texts. Not only did I text the boy who I saw Saturday who had promised me he'd call later this week - hello? When a guy says he'll call later in the week it is FAR too early to accuse him of not calling on TUESDAY! Tuesday is not later this week. Whoops. I did. Poor Pete. And this isn't German lover boy, this is a few years older used to go to college good friends with my older sister and her friends Pete. This is blonde Pete. I never date blondes. This is sweet, kind, actually a good human being, likes to volunteer and is going to law school Pete. AND HE'S SINGLE! Finally, I'm not throwing myself into the arms (or towards the groin) of an unavailable man! Precious Pete!

So Saturday we hang out (not by ourselves, this was by pure chance) and get to talking and catching up a little, considering it's been two years since I've seen him.

UGH pause... my co-workers just asked me to join them in a "company lunch." Since when do we have lunch together? HELLO! I have more important things to do.. like blog about Pete, and Ryan, and fjdlkajfd be back in 30.

Ah surprisingly fun lunch.. okay, so Pete... we're drunk on Saturday, he seems excited that I'm living back in this city, asks for my number and promises he'll call later this week so we can get together! Fast forward to Tuesday night, I'm drunk again and fucking text the kid... I did so using a hint of sarcasm, I believe my text said: "Tuesday night and no call? Just kidding, but seriously you ought to call me this weekend so we can meet up!"

Idiot.

Luckily he doesn't seem too annoyed by my impatience and responds happily with "Aah you beat me to the punch. What are you doing Thursday? Should we get a drink? I'll call you tomorrow."

Wooohoooo so my drunk texting doesn't get me in too much trouble, just makes me look like a desperate (I am), impatient (I am), Tuesday night drunk... (I was).

Next idiot move... I scroll through my phonebook and land on Ryan P. Ryan P. (not asshole, drunk sex, ruined friendship Ryan) has expressed his legitimate love for me since 6th grade. I, being the kind of girl who really, truly, only wants what I can't have (which makes me worried about Pete, does this mean secretly I know I'll never have a chance?), strongly disliked little immature, annoying Ryan P. until... Christmas of last year. Naturally, although this man is no joke, the most beautiful man I have ever seen (think Tom Brady meets Rob Kardashian... he's a looker) I didn't necessarily take to him and his good looks until, well, he was unavailable. Christmas time came around and one of my girlfriends told us all that she and Ryan P. had been "talking a lot, like all semester" HELLO HE WAS IN AUSTRALIA!! (oh god, I'm such a hypocrite, this is exactly what I'm doing with German lover boy!!!!) Anyways, I knew better. Ryan P. talked, online, to anyone who would listen while he was in Australia... anyone. I ignored him for a solid 3 months... he's the kind of kid who will IM you and say "Hey" - you respond - he says "What's up?" and then there is silence... it's pointless.

So I know that this budding relationship with Ryan P. and my girlfriend is shit. She is just over excited and the first night we run into him at the bars he immediately dismisses her and informs her "ugh... it wasn't like that, I guess we weren't on the same page." She was slightly frustrated, but not heartbroken, and suddenly... I realize that Ryan P. may actually be desirable. Only now that I see there is competition, of course.

We chat occasionally during the spring, summer rolls around and I try, I mean... I really tryyyyy to like the kid. When we're out I engage (or attempt to) in conversation and there is just nothing. Nothing. The kid is like a brick wall. A really, really, nice looking brick wall. Okay so, the more and more I try, the more and more I think maybe if I just give in and make out with him you know, mayyyybe I’ll feel something.

The night that I finally go home with him just happened to be the night a kid from work was hanging all over me at the bar so maybe Ryan only likes what he can’t have too? Anywho… I go home with him and have a fucking BLAST! Like, a blast. We were literally rolling around in bed all night making out… like high school kids. We didn’t have sex. We didn’t (that I can remember) do anything, except make out. WHAT A RELIEF! What a great feeling. To wake up smiling next to an incredibly cute, and apparently kind, sweet in bed man. And I didn’t have to regret having unprotected, drunk sex, with a kid I didn’t even like talking to… like normal.

Then I find out he has a girlfriend.

Okay, honestly I found out like 2 days before we hooked up – I’m telling you, I really only like what I can’t have, damn it… But he completely denied they were “official.” What are you, actually still in 6^th grade? Your best friend calls her your girlfriend, your little sister calls her your girlfriend, your entire posse of best and closest lady friends call this girl your girlfriend. You’re official… you just don’t care enough right now to pass up a hook up with the girl you’ve loved since 6^th grade.

I liked the attention. I took it, kill me. Playing the home wrecker is not new to me. At least I didn’t sleep with him, right?

Then we hook up again. He is all of a sudden fun. We can talk freely and openly about everything, as if we’ve known each other forever… I guess we have, makes sense. And he is just fun! We laugh, we go out to breakfast the next day and sit on the outdoor patio of an adorable restaurant downtown and aaaaaah my heart is aching.

He’s another woman’s man. I’m the fling. Like always. Fuck.

He drove back to college (oh yea… he’s younger than me, eeeeeeeek) that same day and we have hardly talked since. He lives next door to his girlfriend, he obviously is with her and has far too many things to think about (girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend) to continue talking to me so he is suddenly out of my love life as quickly as he came into it.

Tuesday night? I text him: “Ryaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan.”

Hello drunky, mcdrunkster. As if that text isn't screaaaming I'm drunk and wish you were here to hook up with me. Welp, ladies and gents, that's pretty much what I explicitly state in the next texts. If my roommates weren't so nosy (and also my best friends who love to creep) and hadn't forced me to erase my inbox and outbox the following morning I would share with you the entire conversation that continued for about 2 hours...

It had a lot of me wiiiishing oh so much that I had told him my feelings long ago, and lots of me begging for him to come visit (whaaat?!!!) and pleaaading that we should try the "us" thing.

Who the hell am I and what was I thinking?! This is Ryan P... remember the brick wall? The kid who I couldn't even hold a 2 minute conversation with until I decided to make him my summer fling?

Embarrassing.

I apologized the next morning (via one very miserable text) and haven't heard from him. So! There's another one out the door.

What else did I do Tuesday night?

Oh yeah! ... I CRIED.

In the bar. To a stranger. In my defense, he was a doctor so was pretty damn good at playing the life coach therapist role... but I can't remove all fault from myself... I brought up the sob stories and the oh life is so tough talk...

That wasn't about guys at least. My brother died 4 years ago and it's still a hugely, unresolved issue but come on... keep it in private? I cried in a mother fucking bar... again.

I'm always that girl, for one reason or another.

Luckily this little sob fest happened with a stranger and I think my guy friends were all too drunk to notice.