The Lost Plum…

I talked about facebook as a way to meet a potential mate the other day and thought I’d share a story.

When I first moved to New York I was bombarded with friends asking if I was on facebook because they couldn’t find me.

Facebook what is this facebook you speak of, my mind would wander. (We’re talking way back in the early facebook days; they didn’t even have Canadian networks then)

I had a good friend from home ask what it was one time as we chatted. I gave her my login information and was like “check it out”.

She did and with out my knowledge she friend requested about 20 guys in the city who she thought would be good for me. Oh and she would stress good-looking here cause that always equals a good.

I had about three of them add me as friends and one contact me. One day an email via facebook from a seemly nice guy on facebook introducing him self, saying he didn’t remember meeting me but he just moved to the city and didn’t have many friends, asking if we knew each other from some place else. Our emails continued and then they graduated to IM conversation. We spent months chatting for hours into the night. The months went by but I had still yet to meet him but I felt like I knew everything about him. He was slowly becoming one of my best friends in the city, and yet no face-to-face.

We talked on the phone, we late night drunken texted, and then finally we decided we needed an “adventure” not just a meeting, an adventure! We both discussed our love for penguins once and thus our adventure was to go and experience penguins. And this was a big adventure not just a central park advneture an outing all the way out to coney island to the aquriam on a very warm Febuary day (after almost 6months of ‘knowing’ eachother)

We picked up some coffee, and we jumped on the train and rode the train chatting like we’d known eachother for years. I’ve yet to have a more enjoyable subway experience with any other person. It is at the top my list of “perfect NYC days”

He really is one of my best friends and oldest friends since moving here. We’ve experience alot together, and always laughed along the way. He might not always return my texts (hint hint) but I know he’s one of those people I can always count on. And in the lonely city he knows me better then anyone else. If all else fails I know just seeing him makes me light up and smile. I live for times we get to catch up. He tells me tales of his girlfriend of the moment, I regal the ridiculousness that is my life.

It’s funny how we can go out searching for love (even if you don’t do the searching yourself) and find things that are even better then you would expect.

Whenever people get down on ‘dating’ or going out and meeting people I always think of how we find the greatest people in the most unlikely places.  I may still be searching for “mr. right” (or even “mr. right now” ) but I have my “mr.popular” and that’s just fine by me…

A few nights back I was having a DM conversation with @SimoneGrant on twitter, and telling her about the mysterious text messages I was receiving from a number I did not recognize.

FACT: If there is an award for best/most 140character DM conversations @simonegrant and I (@lostplum) would win! Seriously!

Now I knew two things about the texter on the other end. It was clearly a man, and clearly he wanted to see what I was up to.

SIDEBAR: I was up to stuffing my face with pudding and on the couch cathing up on my dvr still in my gym clothes from earlier.

Now like any of my friends (or even you my readers) might do, she jumped to the conclusion that it must be some random guy I’ve given my number to at some point.  She even offered up a few suggestions (she has clearly been out drinking with me) I tend to pretty much give my number to any seaming normal person.  I do this because I find it fun to play the “I bet he texts me (—)”  game, which I have become, VERY VERY good at!  I can pretty much give a guy my number after talking for about 30-minutes and tell you exactly what he will text me and when (or at least really close) If I ever entre another beauty (scholarship fund) competition again in my life that will be my talent.

But this isn’t a post about my talents (that would be far to long) this is a blog about the text I hate the most.  So I finally figure out who the boy is. And we are chatting.

Friend who has a crush on me: “How’s your night going?”

Plum: “ Not bad. How about yours?”

Friend with crush:  “Ok, but why don’t you come and make it better.”

And there it was THAT message.  That “come over and make ME better”, “want to make IT better” text. I f-ing hate that text!

Let me tell you something guys you have a much better chance of A: getting me to hang out with you and B: getting to feel “better” if you just ask in a nice friendly matter if I want to have a drink, or grab a late dinner. Seriously, dude! It’s already past 10pm, I already know what you are hitting at you don’t have to be slimy about it.

It’s not “cute” and it’s not getting me off my couch it’s making me so much “BETTER” then you are!

A purple spider, Punky Brewster, a tiger, and a ninja turtle all have one thing in common.  These are all things I have been for Halloween.

Halloween is one of my favorite holidays.  I mean candy, costumes, drinking, and did I mention candy. What’s not to love!  It’s also the only holiday, which isn’t ‘family’ centered, maybe that is why we all love it!

Halloween is like over 200 years old and in my opinion maybe the most over commercialized and marketed holidays.  But more then that Halloween is over sexual.  It could be called “National Slut Day”. 

As Halloween draws upon us, all I see left right in center is slut attire. I was at the drug store buying tissues and cough drops and right next to the checkout were fishnets! (seriously?!)

Halloween is synonymies with cleavage, legs, and frankly sex. And females are mainly to blame (lame!).  Women dress in provocative garments to in most cases draw sexual attention and advances from men. Now I’m not saying anything is wrong with that but I think it’s gone a little far.  (this is where all my male readers which is about 90% of you chime in and say “hell no it hasn’t gone to far!”)

Halloween offers the opportunity to dress as anything at all and in true spirit dress as you something you really want to be.  Now I don’t know about you but I sure wasn’t telling everyone growing up in my sexy-school girl uniform that I wanted to be a prostitute.

I have never really dressed ‘sluty’ on Halloween so I can’t really judge can I.  In fact the costume I plan on wearing tomorrow is maybe my most sexy to date. And it’s not even that risky. In fact I traveled to many of the pop-up costume stores this city is filled with at this time in search of ‘additions’ to my costume. 

SIDEBR:  While at the costume store I over heard one girl tell her friend she should go as a prostitute because guys stick money in your boobs all night so it’s a win win!  (my eyes rolled, and I am rolling them again)

My costume this year needed alittle extra, and by little extra I mean 2-3 inches.  See in the spirit of National Slut day ever costume sold for women pretty much sits on your ass.  I mean maybe if you are a size 0 with no ass these lengths are appropriate but I grew up with my mother, who as soon as something went over the knee she raised a silently judging eyebrow.

StoreWorker:  Need help?

Me:  No I’m just looking for something, thank you.

StroreWorker:  Something in mind?

Me: Well, yeah actually I need something this colour or to match this.  (pulling out costume from my bag)

StoreWorker:  Are you looking for the same one? What’s wrong wit this one?

Me: It’s too short I need to add material to the bottom. Add more skirt.

StoreWorker: WHY?! 

Me: (laughing) It’s too short.

StoreWorker:  That’s how you get us guys to notice you. It’s sexy. You ain’t picking up if you ain’t showing leg.

Me: Honey, I was covered from head to toe and then some last year and I still had sex in the bar bathroom with a hot sailor. 

StoreWorker: (silent) Damn Girl!

It’s not about what you wear, it’s about how you wear it.  It’s about being confident in your own body, and I guess if most of us need that little “it’s ok it’s a holiday” excuse then I’m all for it.  Just make sure you have the confidence before you go throwing a mask over it. So embrace your sexy self and put on a costume or don’t it doesn’t matter. Just be comfortable in you, and the rest will fall into place.

MamaPlums advise for Halloween this year: “Play safe with others, and don’t accept candy or other ‘goodies’ from homeless men on the street. Oh and wear a hat you’re going to have cold weather”

PapaPlum left me a voice mail the other night with the following costume recommendation:  “You should go as someone who HAS received their flu shot. Hint hint.” (insert his laughter)

FACT: Sexy Sailor and I ‘dated’ for about 5 weeks after Halloween.  I didn’t even remember putting my number in his phone.  But I did…..that’s another story for a much later time.

A long long time ago when I was younger, and stupid, and full of teenage feeling for ‘firstguy’ we used to spend hours making out with basically no clothes on. (Silly no penetration teenage love)

‘Firstguy’ and his family were moving. And about 5 days before the big move his mom laid down the law. “No seeing Plum till you finish packing up your room”

It seems very very reasonable, but at the time it was the worst thing in the world.  The brilliant solution was that I would help him pack after school till just before his parents came home.

FACT: I did all the packing and he just complained.

One day we were more interested in each other then packing.  One thing leads to another and I ended up in my panties and nothing else. He seemed to have all his clothes.

And all of a sudden we hear something. His mom is home, and home early. Crap-attack! The room was basically empty nowhere to hide.

He looks at me point in one of those ways he would get where I obliged.

“Get in that box!”

My answer now would have been “you’re out of your fucking mind!” My answer then was to curl up in the box/trunk thing.

He then closes the lid. Closes the lid! YES, he did that! And……locked it!

I can hear mumbles, not too much more. A tap on the top of the trunk? My first thought is ‘thank god’ I’m getting out.

Next thing I know I’m swaying in the box. I feel all off balance. And mumbling, more mumbling.

My first thought…I’m going to die.

I hear noises and I’m being banged around. What the What!? I hold back tears and screams.

Next thing I know it is calm.  I’m no longer moving, I don’t hear anyone.  Then all of a sudden there is a loud bang, a few minutes later a strange sound.   I’m trying to pick it out, but it’s hard to.  I then feel a slight vibration. Holy f-ing god! I’m in the moving truck! I’m in the truck!

FACT:  THIS IS A FACT!

I start to cry. I don’t know if I was making a lot of noise, but I was crying, and convinced someone was going to discover my decomposing naked body stuffed in a moving trunk!  I was going to die! Period!

Then we stop, the truck stops, I hear noises. I stop crying. (sorta)

Then nothing and nothing.

Here I am a little hazy on the actual event.  I may have passed out it is very unclear. I do feel like I was in that trunk in their new house for at least 2 hours. That’s my best guess-timation.

I here a noise, a tap on the trunk.  This is either my ‘firstguy’ here to rescue me, or someone else who isn’t prepared to see my boobies.

The trunk opens.  It’s ‘firstguy’! That god!  And he has my clothes! Thank god again!

It’s dark outside!  “Sorry, I couldn’t get away we started dinner.”

ARE YOU KIDDING ME!

I put on my clothes and marched myself all the way home!

And from that point on I decided: I will never get into a box or trunk again for a guy! Period!  I’m at least good enough to be provided with a little bubble-wrap first!

SIDEBAR: I did walk myself home, but I should stipulate that ‘firstguys’ family was moving into the house next-door. So it was a short yet purposeful angry walk home!

I live in New York City!  The big apple, Gotham, The City that Never Sleeps.  It’s a pretty great place to live. It’s got a lot of “bests” going for it. However, it just might be the “worst” city for doing the WALK OF SHAME.

You can’t hop in a car and drive yourself to your front door.  You have to walk down flights of stairs or get in elevators with other people.  You can walk home, walk to the subway, or wait on the corner hand out for a cab.

In NYC there are just more people to witness the shame you are walking away from. (even when it’s not shameful) For most people walking usually becomes the main exit strategy.  Cabs are great, but early in the morning trying to get one while you draw stares from everyone around plus the extra cost sometimes just isn’t worth it.

One time I was seeing this guy and I spent most of the day sleeping and hanging out at his apartment (he went to work very early and I would usually leave later) just so I could wait for it to be later into the afternoon so I could maybe pull off going to an event rather then be making my way home in the early am in black tie attire.  (I even called in sick to work)

But we can’t always hide and sometimes we just have to own our silliness and our ‘shameful’ choices.

About a year ago I was leaving a guys apartment in order to get home, change/shower, and hopefully make it to work in time.  I was making my way around the hallway and I see six work guys doing construction on the doorway/entrance.  SIX GUYS! What’s a girl to do?

“Fuck it” I thought to myself and I walked right towards them. It was like they all turned their heads at the same time, I could feel the eyes and thoughts start to form on their faces.  So I did what any girl in my position should do.  I owned it!  I raised my hands and surrendered.  “Walk of shame” I announced as I flashed a little smile, “Walk of shame!”

Next thing you know I’m high-fiving all six guys as they hold the door for me and I made my way out into the city.  I might add it was cold and raining. I was dressed in gold open toe shoes and a cocktail dress at 8am….oh and I was late for work.