This is Why I'm Commitment-Phobic

I was about to climb the stairs to my apartment when his beauty stopped me in my tracks. Though usually suspect to the types who hang around late at night in my neighborhood, the way he strutted over to me made me curious. Somehow we started chatting, and the chemistry between us was obvious.

Before I knew it, we were sitting on my front steps, and the night was speeding by. Obviously a bad boy, he seemed nervous whenever a car sped by and ran over the bottle that was littering the street. He shifted his gaze from me to check his surrounding every time the tires on plastic popped and rattled.

Our arms and bodies kept accidentally brushing, and I knew I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help myself - I broke down and let him lie on my lap. But then I realized the time and had to leave him on my stoop, looking at me with big, sad eyes, asking to come up. But I wouldn't cross that line.

He had mentioned that he was hungry, so back in my apartment feeling guilty leaving those eyes, I got out the milk to bring down to him for a midnight thought. Like I hoped, he was still on the stoop. So we nuzzled some more while he drank his milk, and I promised to bring him breakfast the next morning, if he was still around.

I knew at that point I was in love, but would be hurt by this ruggedly handsome renegade. The final line I didn't want to let myself cross - the point of no return - would be naming him. I told myself not to do it, but I did anyway. His name is Havemeyer.

Unless he's really a girl, then her name is Marcy.

What? He was too contentedly purring away in my lap to bother him by rolling him over to check! I couldn't do that to my beloved found cat Havemeyer, who no, I have not seen since that fateful night.

And I am totally in withdrawal. I miss my baby kitty. As soon as I commit - he is gone from my life. I should have dismissed him from the beginning without letting feelings get caught up in it. I knew it would be too much to ask from someone else's outdoor cat to come back and visit me every day, no matter how much milk I gave him.

And Once Again I Prove That Awkward = My Life

First, I had to use the dread line:

"I like you...as a FRIEND."

Eesh, it even hurt my own ears as it came out of my mouth.

And as we continued to have a really awkward discussion (the awkwardness heightened by the fact that English is the poor guy's second language), I realized that this is why no one honestly communicates about relationships. It made me so glad that I have never told a boy, "but hey! I like you!" and then had to make him awkwardly explain that, you know, chemistry is either there or it isn't, you know? And like, I think you're really sweet and all, but it's just not...there?

Second, I went on a sorta-date with a guy who's age...I could not...quite...peg. He was definitely too old for me. But, he's from DC, so we had a lot to talk about, he did pay, and although he was quite fake with his interest in anything I had to say and his hair spiked up to hide what I suspect may be a bit of premature balding, it was fine, and less sketchy than I thought it would be.

I've been realizing more and more lately that lowering my standards because my "dating lame guys is more fun than not dating anyone" mantra is not so satisfying any more. The only two boys I vaguely find myself interested in (in my mind mostly) are D3 and the Ex.

And - drum roll! - D3 IM-ed me tonight!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A snipit, to show how lamely excited I am to the point that it deserves all those exclamation points:

D3: heyyyy
Me: hiii! how are ya?
D3: good, i miss you! When are you coming back?

At this point, I flopped backward on my bed and let a huge grin take over my face. Seriously, am I 14 or what?

Do notice the four Y's he used. And the jumping to the "I miss you" point (which is a very good point if I do say so myself). And this is why girls are lame.

The Paradox:

When I'm feeling my worst, boys pester me more.

I went to go meet my mom's bus at Penn Statioin when she came to visit me. But it was right after a nap, so I threw on my JMU sweatshirt (complete with a pink paint stain of some sort), wiped the excess mascara out from under my eyes, and trudged into the subway system.

"Hey, purple's my favorite color!"

Really? It is? Well thank goodness I wore it!

It ended with multiple kisses on the cheek. I don't know how I let myself get in these sketchy situations.

Then the other night, I went to go buy MORE TOILETPAPER (seriously) at like midnight around the corner. I was pissed off and in a rush to, you know, pee? And then go to bed?

"Have a good night!"

(mumbled) "Thank you!"

"I SAID good NIGHT!"

(angrily - bad idea at midnight in a vaguely sketchy-looking neighborhood, I know) "I said you TOO! THANK you!"

And I kept walking, after two other younger 20-something guys snickered. Little did I know, when I would come back around that same corner, conquest in my posession, the same guy would still be there.

As he approached me, giving me a second chance with "Have a good night!" I just straight out asked him whether or not he said hello to every girl in the city, or do I have something on my face that says "Well hello there! I'm from out of town! Specifically, the south! I am a friendly person!" even when I think I've mastered the "Get out of my way. I'm a disgruntled/busy New Yawker" face. While I was blabbering on, he was stumbling over words himself about being 40 and living in the same apartment for 10 years and he doesn't talk to every girl and maybe could we get together for-

No! I refused to be picked up past midnight by undatable, creeptastic men. Refuse! I'm trying to raise my standards here! (Okay, maybe if he had been in his 20s...still probably a bad idea).

So, I think every guy who makes a little cat call or says something to me, I'm going to poll him: is it me? Or is it the city? Or is it you? It must be exhausting talking to every pretty girl here. Lawdy knows there are a lot more of 'em than pretty (straight) men.

And the lesson I learned from this that one of my guy friends tried to convince me was true just a few weeks ago: You don't need to try to get a guy's attention. It's the lack of effort that turns guys on.

So now I have to try to not try? That's when I pretend to not be looking for dates because, well, they always show up when you're not.

Hi-larious Linkage

Living, uh, I mean working, in the blogosphere all day long, I have realized that I have laughed out loud to funny Web stuff less and less. But this Gawker posting about this New York Post article about a Cosmopolitan article had me covering my mouth and snickering - although my office pretty much encourages laughing out loud at all times.

So hey, why not add fuel to the online fire and spread the word?

Back to lame/weird/funny NYC boys later.