We're still here...

This past week, marked week #4 of "The Experiment".   Unfortunately, we all had other plans.  But as it turns out, that was okay.  Week #3, we found ourselves once again at a nicer place, eating incredible food and talking amoungst ourselves, only that time, it wasn't for lack of trying.  There were literally 2 guys in the entire place, the entire night, and they were slightly drunk liquor reps, which we decided is really only one step up from dating someone we work with.  There was, however, a marked change in our topic of conversation that night, since we are all -all of a sudden- in some various state of sorta dating someone!  I don't know how the hell it happened or where any of it is going, but I think it has something to do with "The Secret" and the laws of attraction.  By putting ourselves out there one night a week, and opening ourselves up to new experiences, we somehow brought a plague of dudes down upon us.  Details on this will be forthcoming once I've determined I'm not jinxing anything by talking about it. (Yes, I am oddly superstitious.) 

Sometimes things have to be said...

I recently read that 1 in 5 women (age 16-59) has been sexually assaulted.  If you are one of the lucky ones who has escaped this, then I ask you to look at your 4 closest girlfriends and ask yourself "Who is living with this and not talking about it?".  This is not something I talk about.  These are not things that anyone really knows about me.  These are also not things that have ever defined me, nor will they ever.  But these are things that happened.  

My first kiss... something that should have been magical and beautiful, was a result of assault.  I was at a neighbor's holiday party and their adopted son offered to give me a tour of their house.  When we got to his bedroom, he pinned me down on his bed and forcefully kissed me. When he let me up, he told me to go back downstairs and act like nothing happened.  I was 15 years old.  I was not attracted to him, and I didn't know what to do.  I let it happen, yet for years after, whenever I saw him, I felt sick to my stomach.  I have since told anyone who was interested, that my first kiss was with my first boyfriend, in his car, in my parents' driveway.  The way it should have been.

Years later, when I was sowing some oats after leaving a long relationship,  I found myself flirting with a guy at a bar one night.  I had a fair amount of beer and felt okay, and to be perfectly honest, was intending on taking him home with me.  However, at some point, he brought me a beer and it gets a little hazy after that.  I remember walking to my house from the bar with him.  I remember saying "I'm really drunk, I don't know if we should do this."  I remember fooling around and making him promise to wear a condom.  Then I passed out.   The next thing I remember is waking up hours later with him on top of me, not able to move or protest.  I barely knew what was happening.  I don't know whether I had more to drink than I realized, or if he drugged me, but regardless, he did what he wanted to do and was not wearing a condom.   

I remember going to Planned Parenthood that week, feeling like a total whore and thinking "If I end up with an STD, I have no one to blame but myself."  

I made better decisions after that.  I made sure not to put myself in situations like that and tried not to blame myself completely for my poor judgement. 

This is a hot-button topic right now, in light of the Steubenville, OH case.  I read about it.  I watched the YouTube videos of the bystanders laughing and joking about it.  I've seen how it's affected people I care about and compelled them to share their own stories, no matter how horrific.  And that's why I decided to share mine.  I have chosen not to let these things affect my life, but others don't have that luxury.  This shit is not funny, and it's time we put a stop to it.

3rd time's the charm?

Last Wednesday, on night #2 of "The Experiment", we found ourselves at a classy, upscale bar downtown.  Before arriving, we had joked that it might be a good place to find an older, sugar-daddy type.  We were wrong.  The place was crawling with men... unfortunately, they were all sitting in groups at tables throughout the restaurant, ostensibly having business meetings.  

There was one attractive fella around our age, who walked in, sat directly across the bar from where we were and smiled at each of us as if mentally playing eeny-meeny-miney-moe.  However, before any of us could decide whether or not we wanted to engage him,  in walked his prey.  That's right... while sipping our $12 cocktails and listening to the soft music of the baby grand piano behind us, we got to witness a cougar hunt of epic proportion.    

So, for the sake of scientific research as well as entertainment, we kept an eye on that situation, but proceeded to once again talk only to each other and the cute bartender.  In case I haven't mentioned this before, all 3 of us work in a restaurant.  And after last week, I had the realization that you can "take the girls out of the restaurant, but you can't take the restaurant out of the girls".  Checking out the hot, kitchen guys when they come out to the bar for a drink, and flirting with the cute, funny bartender...this is what we know.  This is what we are comfortable with.  That's just one more thing to work on, though it's not without its perks.  We managed to score complimentary creme brule and dessert wine, which frankly, was more satisfying than some of the sex I've had in recent years.  

So, although the night was once again fruitless,  I'd still call it a success on some level.  Each week we learn a little more, and each week our confidence grows.  Tonight, we're classin' it up once again and heading to a ritzy part of town.  Goal for the evening:  Talk to someone who isn't paid to talk to us. 

Round two...

As you all know, last Wednesday marked the first night of "The Experiment".  I would like to report that everyone involved found their soul-mate and is presently enjoying endless amounts of phenomenal sex, intellectual stimulation, intense emotional connectivity and snuggling.  Experiment over.  I'll begin blogging again when I start popping out babies.

If you believe any of this, I order you to stop watching any movie starring Kathryn Heigal, Meg Ryan or Jennifer Lopez immediately.  Just stop it.  In all seriousness, last week was the maiden voyage, so we weren't really expecting much.  We were still getting our "sea legs", so to speak.  We also got a bit of a late start, thereby missing most of the happy hour crowd.  

In a nutshell:

+ We got to eat good food.

+ We got to catch up on girly crap.

+ We got to flirt with the cute bartenders.

- We didn't talk to a single person other than each other, the aforementioned cute bartenders, and the highly intoxicated, middle-aged gal beside us, who kept showing us her Spanx.

This week, we're classin' it up a bit and going out a little earlier to see what we can find.  A couple of cocktails at this joint costs more than filling up my gas tank, but we're thinking that means the guys will most definitely have jobs and probably not at Blockbuster.  (Not that there's anything wrong with that.)

I also want to mention that I feel as though I have been taking a "fake it til you make it" approach to this, in the sense that I would much rather drink scotch at home, in my pajamas while watching The Ghost Whisperer on Netflix, but I am doing it because as I've said before, I have reclusive tendencies and have yet to meet anyone in my living room.  So, in the spirit of really trying... I shaved my legs today. 

Here we go...

When you live in a small town, the dating pool can get a bit incestuous.  I learned this growing up in a town of about 4,000 people in "middle of nowhere" Pennsylvania.  Sure, I have wonderful friendships that have lasted into adulthood with girls I've known since elementary school, but I also had to share a few of my boyfriends with them over the years.  

Now, keep in mind that in junior high/high school, my friends and I were all somewhat innocent and had led fairly sheltered lives, so when I say we "shared boyfriends", I don't mean we had wild orgies and also shared STD's.  It was more like, one girl dated so-and-so for a week and a half in 8th grade, then another dated him sophomore year for a few months, then I fell head over ass in love with him junior year and dated him off and on until graduation.  Within our smallish group specifically, even if we hadn't dated, most of us had nursed a brief crush at one time or another.  

After graduation, however, things did start to get a little weird.  I remember when 2 of our friends got married a few years after high school, we realized that out of 7 or so girls in our group, 4 of us had slept with the groom, not including the bride.  Bizarre. 

Fast forward to present day, and I am beginning to see history repeating itself.  In the quaint little village where I live and work, there are approximately 5 datable men.  Now, in case you're thinking "Oh, your standards are just too high, I'm sure there are plenty of men, you're just being picky", I will qualify the term "datable" as someone who has the following: a job; a car; a home.  I am picky in the sense that I prefer the "home" be somewhere other than his parents' basement, and the "job" be something other than selling drugs, but beyond that I am fairly open-minded.  

So, of the 5 datable men in my town: One is the brother of my bestie and dated a good friend of mine a few years back; One was good friends with my ex; One has already done the marriage/kids thing and is therefore uninterested in doing it again; One is completely uninterested in me or a relationship in general; and One is reeling from a recent divorce and acting like a bit of a douche.  If you add in the handful of other men that technically qualify under the job/car/home criteria, but who are raging alcoholics, well, there you have it... very few options for a gal like me.  

Thus begins "The Experiment".  Formerly called "The Mandi/Jess experiment", we've had some other girlfriends join our science project, so in the interest of keeping things simple, I've shortened it.  I've written down the names of 20 or so bars/restaurants/lounges in the area that we do not typically frequent, or where we've never actually been.  Many of them are in parts of town that seem like an entirely different world than where we reside.  I have put these names in a bag and chosen one at random.  We will go there.  We will order a cocktail.  We will turn on the charm.  And hopefully, we will bag us some new dudes.  Wish us luck!  "The Experiment" starts in T-minus 43 minutes.