Like most people I have my drink of choice. I’m a top-shelf gin and tonic girl, extra lime please. However, I love me a good (scratch that) great Mojito!

SIDEBAR: a Mojito is not supposed to be too sweet and when there isn’t a ton of sugar in them they are divine! I have been known to devour quite a few when the occasion arises.

So if you don’t know what a Mojito is that’s cool I’ll forgive you guys, all I will say is a major component is Mint. Yummy yummy crushed up mint.

Here is something I’ve always noticed and always commented on when out drinking Mojito.

I always get a stick! Now I’m sure getting a bit of stick attached to the mint steam has happened to lots of people. But this happens to me every single time. One drink after another, one bartender after another.

I always have this short piece of stick in my Mojito! Always!

Maybe it’s a sign of something. Maybe it’s Dionysus or some other drinking God alluding to facts unknown in life. Maybe my life has been one giant stick, or better yet maybe my dating life, my love life always seems wonderful, seems perfect, is much like a delicious Mojito but deep down inside is a shark little stick, a small flaw getting ready to pock me and bust the bubble.

And then again you never know. Cause about two months ago I went on a amazing first date, and in the spirit of being honest had about 5 (maybe 6) Mojito over dinner, and not one, NOT A ONE had a stick in them….

Hmmm… maybe it was a sign or something.

I know it may seem odd to some but I truly have never had a guy I was interested in who I assumed was interested in me tell me I was/am beautiful.

Like I said in that old post. I get cute alot, and sexy, and pretty, and sweet, and sure the creepy men on the train have called me beautiful, but an actual boy say those actual words. Never has happened.

Well that is until the other night.

I heard someone say, “you’re really beautiful”.

And I believed it.

And my heart fluttered like my heart has never fluttered before.

But yet, it’s still me so I am hesitant to believe anything from a guys mouth.

But for right now a guy makes me feel beautiful. It’s a new and exciting feeling.

And without sounding corny, it’s a beautiful feeling.

Let me first say this:

Yes this happened. Believe me and the friend’s shoulders I’ve drunkenly cried on….this happened.

I have no idea when a switch happened, if the switched happened, how long something happened for or what have you all I know and remember are the words being whispered in my ear by him, and he wasn’t where I thought he was.

The aftermath……… (only so you’ll all stop emailing me, not cause I really want to hash back at this topic-guy!)

Two days later I get a text message: “I had a wonderful time can’t wait to see you again.”

I didn’t respond.

Three days later I get flowers at my office.  I don’t remember what the card said but something to the above.

Text message: “Would love to dinner tonight if you’re free?”

I responded:  ”I’m not interested but I’m sure you have someone else in your life who you can take!”

Stumpy: “ Oh that’s just NAME, we hang out a lot. She really liked you.”

NO RESPONSE

The next day.

Text message:  “Didn’t hear back from you. If you want to pick that girl that’s cool too, it doesn’t have to be NAME.”

AND THAT IS THE LAST I HEARD FROM HIM……

On a side note it forced me to take the stairs more at. work

SIDEBAR: This is also a story I’ve sat on for a while. I’ve struggled with on so many levels, but in the end putting it out there is always best, or not. But here we go *deep breath*

You, Me, and the Stump equals three! Part One and Two!

I had noticed Elevator-Hottie since I starting working in the building 5 months ago. Ok, I didn’t notice him I straight up stared and maybe drooled at him. This man was hot, and by hot I mean HAWT!

We always seemed to be stuck in the elevator together, most times alone no matter what time of the day.

I simply chalked this up to fate!

We had exchanged a few smiles back and forth (god he had great teeth) but other then that, he watched the elevator TV and I pretended to be doing something important on my phone while I checked out his hot ass in his nice suit!

I worked late that night and as I was leaving the office around 8pm, I clicked the down button.

The door opened and there stood his tall gorgeous frame. (If I were a guy I would’ve got an instant hard on)

He smiled. I quickly looked down at my phone.

Elevator-Hottie: Can I just say something?

I looked up, mouth open from shock and stared at his beautiful face. I did not say anything, I don’t think I even nodded, but may have turned bright red.

Elevator-Hottie: You’re gorgeous! I’d love to take you to dinner sometime, if you’d like and are available.

I keep staring, drool may or may not have fallen from my mouth.

“Ummmm…(What ever I said here was most definitely babble and I fear evening thinking about it. I’ve blocked it from my memory)”

Elevator-Hottie: Can I get your card?

“Umm…yeah…sure” I fumbled for a card.

Elevator-Hottie: “I always wondered what you did at ‘the magazine with boobies’……”

His voice trailed off as he got off the elevator. I was planted firmly in my place still in shock and awe from the fact he even talked to me. ME!?! Did he just ask me out? HE asked ME, (ME?!) out!?!

The elevator doors closed!

SIDEBAR: I am an idiot!

I press the button the doors open (as I am already on the first floor). I walk out he is gone and there is Tom my favorite of our night security desk guys. “Smooth, very smooth!” He says with a smile.

I blew it! I totally blew it! Oh well.

But I get a phone call that night, and it was Elevator-Hottie. Seriously, I was now staring to believe in this ‘fate’ stuff.

Our first date was to be an after work drink. Although in all honesty I didn’t go to work till the end of day cause I was picking out the perfect outfit, getting my hair just right, doing nails, and all the girl (yes sometimes I’m like that) stuff!

We had a seemingly perfect first date. We had great conversation, I didn’t get to drunk (a usual first date flaw on my part) we ended up grabbing dinner, all in all a great date. As we were saying our goodbyes he gave me a “had a great time” accompanied by a pat on the shoulder.

He hates me. Maybe I shouldn’t have had that third drink, maybe I talked to much, I probably swore to much, maybe it’s cause I made fun of him…..urg such is my life!

But he called me. And he kept calling me.

Now Elevator-Hottie was everything you’d want in a man, especially in a Manhattan man. Tall, unbelievable handsome, very well educated, good family, owned his own apartment with a park view (and not stand on the toilet  in the bathroom tilt your head kind of view, we’re talking a view!) He had great job, and he even a summer house.

Date number 12 rolls around and the most action I’ve gotten is a peck on the lips and a pat on the back hug. And a few flower arrangements sent to my office.

I mean come on, a girl cant wait forever. In my dating world 12 dates is pretty much an engagement! So you better pony up! I was so confused by the situation, and never been in one like this before. Plus, I like sex so I was alittle upset on that front too.

I was also struggling with him because as perfect on paper as he may have been. He really didn’t make me laugh. OK, I shouldn’t say that he was funny he would make any normal girl laugh alot. But I need and want a guy who makes me spit out my drink, maybe pee my pants just alittle bit laugh! (It’s a requirement)

My friends all pushed me towards the ‘perfect on paper’ and said to ignore the other details.

Oh right, I’m forgetting that one other detail. You see for all his great perfect on paper points, there’s one little thing he didn’t have.

One quality mister-perfect-elevator-hottie-on-paper was missing.

Actually, it was more of an appendage then a quality. You see Elevator-Hottie was missing his left leg below the knee. He had a prosthetic, no leg, a whatever you want to call it………There was no leg!

So I rationalized his lack of physical contact as a shyness of his stump.

Maybe it was all scared up and nasty! Maybe it was shaped funny. Maybe he was scared I’d want to lick it during foreplay.

All I knew was if he didn’t take my pants off on this our 14th date, it’s over.

Leg or no leg : Over!

I get a Text message: Instead, why don’t you come over and we’ll order in and watch a movie.

Thank you Jesus! Come over and watch a movie IS and has always been code for come over and have sex!

But now I was terrified. I frantically spent hours googling sex with one legged men, and so on. These results turned up nothing but scary porn, and creepy craigslist ads.

This was it. You see if the sex is amazing, I guess I can get over the lack of gut hurting laugher. Plus, I was starting to really like him. NowI was more nervous then excited.

I show up at his apartment. I walk in the door and he jumps me. Wow! Like throws me against the wall, jumps me.

Where did this guy come from?

Lips are intertwined, arms are throwing and ripping off clothes. This one legged Hottie was on a mission! And his mission was me!

We take this action into the bedroom. We’re doing it, and we’re doing it. Oh and we’re doing it! And it was really great. And did I mention the view of the park from the bedroom!? The whole thing was hot and amazing!

I’m in the moment. Really in the moment, and then he decides he wants to take a trip…downtown !

And as I lay there with my eyes closed enjoying his downtown adventure I hear a soft whisper in my ear.

“She’s good isn’t she.”

I look over. I look down. I look over. I look down. I look…I look DOWN!

And there between my legs is this mass of grey hair.

I jump back! So fast and hard I hit the headboard and the back of my head started to bleed.

There at the foot of the bed is this …..Old Lady.

Now not just old, we’re talking tales from the crept, old lady boobs to her knees, fucking Old Lady OLD!

As I’m picking up my stuff I’m speechless. More shocked then when he asked me out in the elevator. I kept looking at him and his perfect body his mouth was moving, something about it being ok, how he wants me to stay. I kept looking at her with her really not perfect body saying something about how he was right I am really pretty.

And I couldn’t say anything. Maybe it was just the surprise of it, maybe it was the feeling that I was pretty much just violated by an old woman, or maybe it’s because I hit my head so hard I was pretty sure I was dying of a brain bleed. I was shaking and in shock, and just wanting to leave.

As I ran out in my jacket, one shoe and holding everything else I came in with. I walked into the bar across the street asked where the bathroom was and said I was coming back for shots!

As I put my clothes on I held back tears. I don’t know why exactly, but I had never wanted to be more loved and cherished by a man then in that moment. It sounds odd I know, but all I could think was why couldn’t I meet a nice guy, why does every guy I meet need to be an asshole douchebag or a freak. Why won’t anyone ever just love me. What was wrong with me?

Because just when you think someone is perfect on paper you realize their grandmother is doing the book keeping from inside the closet, or under the bed, or wherever one hides a walking swinger of a corpse!

FACT: All guys are douchebags, and all girls are crazy bitches. ( I say this ALL the time, as my loyal readers know)

Why do guys have to be such douchebags? Even better, why do they have to hide their doucheiness under there ‘to good to be true’ exterior?

And then why when their douchebagery is exposed do girls have to turn crazy.

I hate douchey boys today, but I hate being a crazy bitch about it today even more.

That’s all.

I think I might hold the record for times a guy who seems all interested in me out of the blue say: “I’m not looking for a serious relationship, ok?!”

In fact if I don’t hear that on the third date, I start to think my hearing is going.

My reply is always the same: “OK. No one said anything about a serious relationship here.”

And I truly mean that!

I’ve been thinking about this lately. What is it about me? About my personality that makes me come off as this relationship hungry girl.  When I’m actually farthest from that. Am I too nice? Too interested, to giving? What is it?! I seriously want to know!

Do I like the idea of being in a relationship? Sure, who doesn’t? They are comfortable, wonderful, and safe, but then again full of so many issues.

A nice steady casual relationship I’ll take any day. A call me your girlfriend, move in together and let’s have babies relationship…..well frankly they scare me.

So the question is, is it me?

Do I scream, “date me, love me, marry me”, or is it just a precaution that all men take.

Are they scared of ‘us’ the scary relationship hungry females? ‘Us’ with our bridesmaids picked out since we were 10 yearsold, our eggs in the freezer, and wedding dresses we got on sale in the closet.  Do all guys see us (women) as THOSE types?

Dear lord do I come off as that type?!

Sure the idea of a woman with her ticking time bomb ovaries and dreams of the perfect wedding dress might be scary. Sure. I can see that. I meet a boy once who knew exactly how and what time of the year he wanted to get married. Scared the living poo out of me!

The word “fast” and “plans” and “future” are scary in any context at any age!

But little old me, scaring guys away. Making them think I’m all ready to settle down, writing out my name with his last name, and picking out baby names….ME? Really?!

This little plum is scared and jaded on her own. I don’t need your insecurities of whether or not I’m a spring or fall wedding person, or am feeling out your family cancer and disease history.

I’m ok with a non serious relationship, not cause calling me your girlfriend scares me, or moving in scares me, or weddings scare me, or monogamy scares me, or even babies scare me. Ok having a baby fucking scares the bejeezus of me! The are big and my hoo-ha isn’t that big.

I’ve had some wonderful beautiful real serious relationships. And the thought of repeating their faults is what scares me. Because my list of what scares me in “him” and in our maybe “serious relationship” is far more meaty then his fear of a seeing me in a wedding dress, or god forbid us putting a label each other.  It’s perfectly normal for guys to go on and on about how they don’t want anything serious, they aren’t ready for something serious. But, I as a female say that and something is either wrong with me, I’m a slut, or I’m lying.  But like I said my fears about making something serious stand on their own. (but then again maybe guys have their own list too, maybe)

I fear:

- him having sex with one of my best friends behind my back (again)

- him dumping me after 4 years cause he’s getting married in 6 months (again)

- him slapping me across the face and throwing me against walls (again)

- being cheated on (again, and again, and again)

- being told I’ll never be good enough for him (again)

- falling in love and having him die on me (again)

Swag bag castoffs that I just didn’t really get rid of. Like the not so exciting junk that you get in those bags…all the exciting junk I already had used and taken out.

This big bag of junk included: a bouncy –ball, a mini vibrator, vitamin water, three different hand lotions, penis shaped candies, lots of business cards and coupons, a bag of pretzels, shampoo, and so on and so on.

And a small pack of playing cards. Now they weren’t playing cards in the poker kind of way. They were for a different kind of game.

This was a pack of First date dating questions. A small deck that you can take with you, they were sized “to go”.

Insert a sigh. A large * sigh * for three reasons/thoughts that crossed my mind:

1) Why didn’t I think of that so I could be making money?

2) That a ridiculous thought LP cause that person who thought of it isn’t making money, hence why they are free.

(And)

3) Are they serious?!

This mini pack of first date questions is so ridiculous in concept I had to open the package.  (And I wish I hadn’t)

A small sample:

- Where would your dream home be located and what would it look like?

- What is your favorite thing to do on a date?

- How do u act when your angry?

- Would u like to live somewhere else?

- Is your glass half full or half empty?

- What was your worst breakup?

- What is your favorite sent?

Now I’ll try to control myself from throwing up in my mouth for a second here……

(yeah that didn’t work)

So, yes, these are all your basic and sometimes over the top get to know you questions. Sure you get a picture of someone here, but are these questions really necessary on a first date.

NO.

On a first date I want to see if we jive, if we make each other laugh, and if conversation flows.

Here is a hint: If you have to pull out pre written questions to ask your date, conversation does NOT flow and you should walk away now (and vise versa)

Would you have cards to help you lead the conversation with friends? No. Therefore, you shouldn’t have them on a date. If you can’t treat your date like you would your friends (or even better then you treat your friends) then you shouldn’t be dating.

And if you happen to need pre approved first date questions, for goodness sake memorize a few of the less sickening ones and leave the playing cards at home.

We had a great dinner, great drinks, and as always a great conversation, which as per usual managed to cover “relationships”.

FACT: Relationships where not discussed before the awesomeness that is the Team Canada line up this year. (for Olympic hockey if you didn’t know)

So…..there has been (or was) a guy that popped into the picture (my picture) alittle while ago. Who I haven’t seen too often, and we aren’t officially anything, but he’s there. I may or may not have wrote about him, but that doesn’t matter.

Point is “mr.popular” and I are talking, discussing and breaking the situation down. Well actually, I’m breaking it down (me talk talk talking) and then:

“Stop!”

“What?”  I of course look around me thinking he has spotted a hot girl and therefore cannot process my talking and his picturing her naked at the same time. (Believe me this point is not exaggerated!!!)

“He has a name”

“Yeah,  ’mr. has a name’.”

“No, I know. The point is he has a name! (We exchange this strange smile thing back a forth that we do) I’ve known you for a real long time and I have never heard you refer to a guy by his name”

“I know!” I shake and lower my head in shame.

And there it was, alittle truth about me. Much like this blog I give guys ‘nicknames’. From the guy I spent 2minutes talking to at the bar, to the guy I dated for 7months. There was ‘newyearsboy’, ‘filmboy’, ‘tallboy’, ‘marriedguy’,'bartenderdude’….you name it I’ve come up with a name.

And yet, there it was a name: ‘mr. has a name’.

I’ve talked about this once before. And yet, I find myself in the same place, under different pretenses, with different feelings. However, as always I’m confused by life and relationships in general.

So I gave a guy a name…..now what?!

FACT: ‘mr.popular’ and I chatted about alot of things, and thus be prepared for a flood of posts involving him and our past adventures!

This guy I trekked to see! I would make two subway transfers (sometimes three times depending) and would find myself at the end of the 1-train in the Bronx’s. (Anyone who knows me was always so perplexed by this, “YOU dating a guy way up in the Bronx’s!”)

One night we were out at dinner and he brought up a small fact or rather a request he and his roommates had.

You see he and his roommates had noticed that since I had been coming around and spending time at their place one thing was different. One thing just wasn’t the same as it used to be. You see something was missing. Their toilet paper in the bathroom was vanishing quicker then it used to.

FACT: You heard me right! Their toilet paper, or their bum wipe, as my dad so adequately puts it.

They had theorized (which was reached no doubt while eating pringles and getting high) that because girls use more toilet paper ( “you know every time you pee”) that I was costing them money. Precious toilet paper money! They were spending more money on toilet paper (which I should add was the cheapest stuff ever and in fact I believe sometimes was stolen from their offices)

He asked if I would consider contributing towards their ‘household item fund’, or buying a few rolls to contribute. To which I promptly said I would bring my own and laughed in his face.

Now, I should have just told him he and his friends were dicks, but I liked his friends (and sorta liked him) and I knew two of his roommates struggled with money. You’d never guess that based on their smoking habits, but I figured I’d carry tissues in my bag and make a point.

About 2 weeks later we were watching a movie in their living room and one of his roommates came in. He made a comment about how I never cooked dinner for them anymore, or brought baking, or swag from work and how they all missed it.

SIDEBAR: we’d cook at his place alot and I’d always make extra for the roommates. I love to bake but hate to eat it, so his roommates enjoyed pie and cookies a lot. I also got lots of guy centric swag from my old job and would dump it on them.

I replied in a calm manner, not missing a beat and not taking my eyes off the TV.

“Well my household item fund expenses increased unexpectedly this month. But you are welcome to contribute to my feeding and providing for the boys I don’t have sex with fund”

Needless to say neither of them found it funny. And about 2 weeks later the inner douchebag of this guy started to show culminating in him standing me up at a concert I had to use connections to get tickets too, and then telling me he didn’t make it cause he was having sex with his fuck buddy and lost track of time.

FACT:  My mothers face when my dad says “bum wipe” is a sight to be seen, she has also been known to throw things at him when he says this. These things have been known to be expensive breakables.

I got a letter yesterday. A letter that has made me rethink a few things.

I used to have a blog with a friend about our job (we did the same thing but for different people) and it was completely anonymous. Problem being it started to get some attention, and we had to shut it down. Legally we may or may not have been telling stories we shouldn’t have…. even if we changed names and such.

So I get this letter from a law office representing a client and publisher.  I need to waive over my likeness for a book. Wait what?! Are you serious?

It made me think about this blog. (well it made me think of alot of things, but the blog is one) Is one day down the line one of my PULL buddies going to sue me because I shared his “genius” pickup line with the world to steal? Is that guy, or the person I thought was a friend going to one day get angry and mean. Or what is someone steals my likeness (another legal issue) I mean I am pretty hilarious; maybe someone wants to steal what I have written? (With the spelling and grammar cleaned up of course!)

I also have been thinking about people who touch my life, how everyone has shaped me in a different way. Some have made me scared, others have given me the ability to trust, some have taught me skills, and some have made me grow older. So in the huge melting pot of people who have ‘touched’ me there are those that really stand out. One of these being “mystalker”.

FACT: A full fledge real stalker! We are talking restraining order, used to break in and watch me sleep, tried to kill himself, documented my day to day with telephoto lenses, tried to kill an ex boyfriend capital S stalker!  I use the term stalker seriously and don’t throw it around like almost every girl out there.

And now he has written a book! A book that I am featured in and the character draws so much to my “likeness” that I need to sign over a waver.

We all know he’s crazy, so I’ll say this: His publisher is fucking crazy if he thinks I am signing this shit, and even crazier if he thinks this isn’t going to be a legal issue!

SIDEBAR: This is the last thing I need right now! Merry Christmas to me.