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.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
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.)
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
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.
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.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Don't get me started...
I have a lot to say, and lately, very little time with which to say it. So, in lieu of a typical post, I give you my
Top 5 things to 'not get me started on':
1.) People who think every spider they see is a brown recluse. It's not, and you're stupid.
2.) People who don't know the difference between to, too and two. Were you absent during your entire 5th grade English class?
3.) Rock bands who continue to tour (and wear leather pants and makeup) well into their 60's. Ew.
4.) People who think that gold is a logical investment and will come in handy during some sort of apocalyptic situation. Yeah, good luck lugging around a bag of gold bars and trying to trade them for food, guns and medical supplies once the planet has been nuked.
5.) People who can afford cigarettes, alcohol and pot, but who are on food stamps. I can't even comment on this for fear my head will actually explode. Do NOT get me started.
That is all.
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Should old acquaintance be forgot...
Ahhhh, a new year is upon us. Every year, in the weeks leading up to January 1st, I make a list of approximately 8-15 resolutions, since I like to give myself options. Historically, I keep about 3 of them, which I think is somewhat commendable. This year I made 19, and I think the increase is a result of previous, unfulfilled resolutions, compounding themselves into one giant, daunting list. If I am able to keep all of them, I will be the healthiest, happiest, richest, most Zen person on planet earth. So far, I'm easing into things. I like to give myself a grace period to begin these arduous tasks, since the beginning of a new year always falls inconveniently in the midst of my mid-winter melancholy.
It's been many years since I celebrated New Year's Eve in the traditional sense. Back in 1999, when I still lived back East, my roommate and I decided it would be fun to spend NY's Eve at the house of a platonic guy friend who lived on a local college campus with 4 other dudes. We wore the requisite slutty dresses and proceeded to drink $5 "champagne" straight out of the bottle all night. When midnight arrived, I peered out through my drunken haze and grabbed the first semi-attractive guy I saw and kissed him. Mission accomplished. I then spent the remainder of the night pretending to be passed out, so that he would lose interest in me and go find a conscious drunk girl to date rape. Oh, to be 21 again.
Fast forward to my 2nd year in Colorado... some friends from work and I decided it would be fun to go downtown to ring in the New Year. So, we got off work around 10:30, changed into our completely-inappropriate-for-20-degree- weather dresses, and paid an underage busboy to drive us downtown and drop us off. We then paid a $15 cover to get into a club I wouldn't walk into for free on a normal day, and spent half an hour elbowing our way to the bar to get 3oz of complimentary "champagne" with which to toast at midnight. After the toast, the bartenders began spraying all of us with bar hoses and telling us to leave. I distinctly remember standing outside on the street corner, unable to feel my extremities, desperately trying to hail a cab. I was not drunk, I had not had fun and now I was apparently never going to get home. After about 20 minutes, in a daring and effective move, I threw myself on the hood of a cab that had slowed down in traffic. "Get in!" I yelled to my friends, "We're leaving!!"
Since then, I have spent the majority of NY's Eve's at home, sober as a Mormon, watching When Harry Met Sally. And even though we are only 9 days in, I'd like to propose a toast to me and my good decision making thus far in 2013, because let me tell you... there have been more than a few opportunities for me to start this year off in much the same fashion as the last few.
When the chance to hook up with an ex presented itself, I put down my 3rd glass of scotch and said "NO! That is a bad idea." When I started feeling lonely and decided that perhaps I would casually text a former fling, I threw my phone across the room and shouted "NO! No good can come of that." And when a friend tried to convince me to get in a fight with some awful girls, I said "NO! They're not worth it." Then, I proceeded to dance the night away.
You know what guys? I think maybe I'm finally a grown-up.
It's been many years since I celebrated New Year's Eve in the traditional sense. Back in 1999, when I still lived back East, my roommate and I decided it would be fun to spend NY's Eve at the house of a platonic guy friend who lived on a local college campus with 4 other dudes. We wore the requisite slutty dresses and proceeded to drink $5 "champagne" straight out of the bottle all night. When midnight arrived, I peered out through my drunken haze and grabbed the first semi-attractive guy I saw and kissed him. Mission accomplished. I then spent the remainder of the night pretending to be passed out, so that he would lose interest in me and go find a conscious drunk girl to date rape. Oh, to be 21 again.
Fast forward to my 2nd year in Colorado... some friends from work and I decided it would be fun to go downtown to ring in the New Year. So, we got off work around 10:30, changed into our completely-inappropriate-for-20-degree- weather dresses, and paid an underage busboy to drive us downtown and drop us off. We then paid a $15 cover to get into a club I wouldn't walk into for free on a normal day, and spent half an hour elbowing our way to the bar to get 3oz of complimentary "champagne" with which to toast at midnight. After the toast, the bartenders began spraying all of us with bar hoses and telling us to leave. I distinctly remember standing outside on the street corner, unable to feel my extremities, desperately trying to hail a cab. I was not drunk, I had not had fun and now I was apparently never going to get home. After about 20 minutes, in a daring and effective move, I threw myself on the hood of a cab that had slowed down in traffic. "Get in!" I yelled to my friends, "We're leaving!!"
Since then, I have spent the majority of NY's Eve's at home, sober as a Mormon, watching When Harry Met Sally. And even though we are only 9 days in, I'd like to propose a toast to me and my good decision making thus far in 2013, because let me tell you... there have been more than a few opportunities for me to start this year off in much the same fashion as the last few.
When the chance to hook up with an ex presented itself, I put down my 3rd glass of scotch and said "NO! That is a bad idea." When I started feeling lonely and decided that perhaps I would casually text a former fling, I threw my phone across the room and shouted "NO! No good can come of that." And when a friend tried to convince me to get in a fight with some awful girls, I said "NO! They're not worth it." Then, I proceeded to dance the night away.
You know what guys? I think maybe I'm finally a grown-up.
Friday, December 28, 2012
It's the Holiday season...
For as long as I can remember, I've loved the holidays. I love the songs, the movies, the decorations, and the cookies. What I do not love, is the forced merriment, the stressed out shoppers/diners I have to deal with at work, or the feeling of expectation that the big day is supposed to be something it is often not. I am happy to spread as much joy as possible, buy a few gifts, and spend December 25th relaxing, eating, drinking and going to bed at a reasonable hour.
My ex and I started a tradition of driving around on Christmas Eve, drinking cocoa, listening to carols and looking at Christmas lights. In my romanticized hindsight, it was always magical and tender and we would get home, curl up on the sofa to watch a Christmas movie, and enjoy a beautiful night. When I really think about some of those Christmas Eves past, however, I remember that we also got into quite a few fights when I thought he was driving too fast and recklessly on icy streets and trying to turn up people's private driveways to get a better view of things. In fact, the last time we ventured out, I distinctly recall pouring a fair amount of peppermint schnapps into my cocoa, hoping to attain a level of apathy toward his driving that would prevent a Yuletide fight. I don't remember if it worked or not, you know, cuz I was all drunk...
Regardless, for the past 3 years (since he and I broke up), I've upheld this driving-around-looking-at lights tradition, only now I do it alone, crying, and pining for the past. It's really quite a spectacle. Thankfully, when I get home and pop in 'It's a Wonderful Life', the only ones around to see me weep into my wine are my cats, and they don't judge.
It occurred to me the other day, that I reference my ex quite often, in this blog and in life. A friend actually asked me if I would consider getting back together with him--if maybe that's what I really want. I thought about it for a minute, but only for a minute, because if I'm being completely honest with myself, the answer is no. He is an amazing person, and I will always love him, but we didn't work. I want what we had, but better. I've since dated the too young, the too clueless, the too selfish and I've pursued the too old and too uninterested, with no one quite falling in the middle yet. I'm apparently the freaking Goldilocks of dating.
This year, I decided to buck tradition and instead, hung out with friends, got drunk and confessed some feelings to a crush...Had that worked out in my favor, I don't suppose I'd be sitting here typing this, but so what? I've always been a bigger fan of New Year's than Christmas anyway. I like clean slates, new beginnings and fresh starts, all of which a new year encompasses. So, instead of letting the holidays make me blue, I'm going to continue making my resolutions list and look forward.
Resolution #1) Maintain a high level of awesomeness.
This shit is gonna be easy...
My ex and I started a tradition of driving around on Christmas Eve, drinking cocoa, listening to carols and looking at Christmas lights. In my romanticized hindsight, it was always magical and tender and we would get home, curl up on the sofa to watch a Christmas movie, and enjoy a beautiful night. When I really think about some of those Christmas Eves past, however, I remember that we also got into quite a few fights when I thought he was driving too fast and recklessly on icy streets and trying to turn up people's private driveways to get a better view of things. In fact, the last time we ventured out, I distinctly recall pouring a fair amount of peppermint schnapps into my cocoa, hoping to attain a level of apathy toward his driving that would prevent a Yuletide fight. I don't remember if it worked or not, you know, cuz I was all drunk...
Regardless, for the past 3 years (since he and I broke up), I've upheld this driving-around-looking-at lights tradition, only now I do it alone, crying, and pining for the past. It's really quite a spectacle. Thankfully, when I get home and pop in 'It's a Wonderful Life', the only ones around to see me weep into my wine are my cats, and they don't judge.
It occurred to me the other day, that I reference my ex quite often, in this blog and in life. A friend actually asked me if I would consider getting back together with him--if maybe that's what I really want. I thought about it for a minute, but only for a minute, because if I'm being completely honest with myself, the answer is no. He is an amazing person, and I will always love him, but we didn't work. I want what we had, but better. I've since dated the too young, the too clueless, the too selfish and I've pursued the too old and too uninterested, with no one quite falling in the middle yet. I'm apparently the freaking Goldilocks of dating.
This year, I decided to buck tradition and instead, hung out with friends, got drunk and confessed some feelings to a crush...Had that worked out in my favor, I don't suppose I'd be sitting here typing this, but so what? I've always been a bigger fan of New Year's than Christmas anyway. I like clean slates, new beginnings and fresh starts, all of which a new year encompasses. So, instead of letting the holidays make me blue, I'm going to continue making my resolutions list and look forward.
Resolution #1) Maintain a high level of awesomeness.
This shit is gonna be easy...
Thursday, November 8, 2012
You've got my vote...
If you are anything like me, you could not have been happier to see Tuesday November 6th come and go. It's not that I wasn't excited to learn the outcome of this pivotal election, but more so, I was excited that my phone would stop endlessly ringing.
There are exactly 3 people who ever call me on the phone:
1.) My mother
2.) My father (and that's on a rather specific bi-monthly basis)
3.) A very persistent bill collector who I've been successfully dodging for years now.
So, in a normal week, I receive maybe 2-3 phone calls. Fast forward to an election year, however, and it's a totally different story. You see, I'm lucky enough to live in Colorado, one of the so-called "battleground" states. I am also registered as neither Democrat nor Republican, which I recently learned is the equivalent of writing "I am obviously confused and unsure who to vote for. Please call me 46 times a day to convince me your candidate is the best", on your voter registration form. Lesson learned... but all of this nonsense got me thinking: Is choosing someone to vote for any different than choosing someone to date?
Obviously, in either situation, you want someone who shares your values. You want someone who is honest with you about their intentions and who keeps their promises. Nothing is worse than a politician who promises not to raise taxes, for example, then gets elected and raises them anyway. Equally disappointing, is a boyfriend who promises to take out the garbage and massage your feet then doesn't deliver.
Let's face it... whether campaigning or dating, everyone brings their A-game in the beginning in order to win over their audience. You're playing up all your best qualities and glossing over all the undesirable ones. This is understandable. Just like no politician would have a chance in hell of getting elected if he began a speech by stating his personal agenda and listing any and all special interest groups that are contributing financially to his campaign, no guy is getting a second date if on the first, he opens with "I have crippling intimacy issues, so it's great you agreed to go out with me!" Euphemisms, spin-doctoring and in the case of dating, good old-fashioned 'fake it til you make it' are the order of the day.
That being said, it would be so refreshing to find a man that could humble himself, admit to his shortcomings and be honest with you. Just once, I'd like to hear a candidate (or lover) say "I honestly don't know if I can balance the budget (give you an orgasm). But I believe I can do it; I've got some good strategies and I'm going to get in there and try my damnedest to make it happen".
As for the next election cycle, candidates please note: I would never go for the needy guy that calls me all the time telling me how important I am and needing constant reassurance that I like him. It's the quiet, mysterious loner who's been catching my eye from time to time from across the room that I'm going to gravitate toward (what up, Gary Johnson!?) And as long as he doesn't try to take away my hard-earned money, my birth-control, or my gun, I might just marry him.
There are exactly 3 people who ever call me on the phone:
1.) My mother
2.) My father (and that's on a rather specific bi-monthly basis)
3.) A very persistent bill collector who I've been successfully dodging for years now.
So, in a normal week, I receive maybe 2-3 phone calls. Fast forward to an election year, however, and it's a totally different story. You see, I'm lucky enough to live in Colorado, one of the so-called "battleground" states. I am also registered as neither Democrat nor Republican, which I recently learned is the equivalent of writing "I am obviously confused and unsure who to vote for. Please call me 46 times a day to convince me your candidate is the best", on your voter registration form. Lesson learned... but all of this nonsense got me thinking: Is choosing someone to vote for any different than choosing someone to date?
Obviously, in either situation, you want someone who shares your values. You want someone who is honest with you about their intentions and who keeps their promises. Nothing is worse than a politician who promises not to raise taxes, for example, then gets elected and raises them anyway. Equally disappointing, is a boyfriend who promises to take out the garbage and massage your feet then doesn't deliver.
Let's face it... whether campaigning or dating, everyone brings their A-game in the beginning in order to win over their audience. You're playing up all your best qualities and glossing over all the undesirable ones. This is understandable. Just like no politician would have a chance in hell of getting elected if he began a speech by stating his personal agenda and listing any and all special interest groups that are contributing financially to his campaign, no guy is getting a second date if on the first, he opens with "I have crippling intimacy issues, so it's great you agreed to go out with me!" Euphemisms, spin-doctoring and in the case of dating, good old-fashioned 'fake it til you make it' are the order of the day.
That being said, it would be so refreshing to find a man that could humble himself, admit to his shortcomings and be honest with you. Just once, I'd like to hear a candidate (or lover) say "I honestly don't know if I can balance the budget (give you an orgasm). But I believe I can do it; I've got some good strategies and I'm going to get in there and try my damnedest to make it happen".
As for the next election cycle, candidates please note: I would never go for the needy guy that calls me all the time telling me how important I am and needing constant reassurance that I like him. It's the quiet, mysterious loner who's been catching my eye from time to time from across the room that I'm going to gravitate toward (what up, Gary Johnson!?) And as long as he doesn't try to take away my hard-earned money, my birth-control, or my gun, I might just marry him.
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