The Lost Plum…

I discussed standards the other day. How we need to learn to let things go after awhile. But thing is there are still things that we will always be attracted to about the opposite sex. I need nice teeth, some people need nice eyes, and some need boobs. This is the fact of life here, and that’s not to say some guy who loves boobs might fall in love with a flat as a little boy woman, it happens.

FACT: Me falling for a guy with bad teeth will never happen just so you know!

But what about a personality, or even more so the material things that reflect a persons personality.

We live in a materialistic world, and everyone loves things, no matter what they tell you. Things are good, and things somewhat make who you are. Like I hate getting rid of books that is telling to who I am.

So I’ve been thinking about what materials reflect well on a suitor I am have. Now reflecting materials are best seen in ones home. My kitchen aid mixer and my matching towels reflect more about my personality then my designer shoes and bags, or what glasses I happen to be wearing. How someone fills their living space, in a true reflection of how they fill their brain.

As I’ve slowly been unpacking my apartment and figuring out where to put everything I looked at my pile of art work and it made me think of guys. Guys with art.

Here is one thing I love, and something that will automatically make me intrigued and instantly more attracted to a guy. Art!

Now he doesn’t have to spend a fortune on art, or anything like that. Even one piece will make me look differently and pay more attention. This can even be a photograph. Guys with art make me swoon and get me interested in them. Their art choices tells alot about their personality, their likes, their dislikes, and their inner beauty.

I’ve become extremely attracted to guys with art collections, and photography walls. I can spend hours in museums so why not spend hours at a guy’s place admiring art and having sex.

An apartment without art is not a home, and if you don’t have a “home” why would I want to play house with you.

I’ve been surrounded by boxes and piles of junk lately, more so piles then boxes. I am doing a major clean and purge of my life “things” (I’m moving)

SIDEBAR: I love my stuff, and my junk but it’s just “junk” and it has had a great life with me, and will make someone else very happy, and stylish “to-boot”

As I’ve been in awe of my collection of things I have noticed something very different than in any other move I have ever made.  I don’t have any relationship outcasts. No boy leftovers, no guy junk, or man tokens.

Last time I went “home home” my closet was still filled with boy leftovers: teddybears, pictures, and all sorts of crap. And it seems like every time I have moved I have had lots of guy-junk to purge from my life, and this time: nothing.

Ok, that is a lie. I have three things.

I have a pile of CD’s from “bandboy”s band. Some are even unopened and by some I pretty much mean all of them.  I count this as one thing, although it’s more like 8 things. I don’t know why I have them, why I even keep them, and why on earth I’ve moved them to different apartments (even a different country).  Although, when he mailed me the latest CD I had a nice little pile to add it to.

And I have two shirts.

Now I know what you are thinking, that I must be one of those girls who takes things from guys. You know the ones who take sweatshirts and t-shirts: the girl who collects t-shirts from guys to sleep in.

FACT:  I’d rather not sleep in a t-shirt.

But thing is I don’t really do that. Why would I want someone’s dirty clothes when I have my own perfectly clean (and even dirty) clothes? But I sat the other night staring at two: a hoddie and a sweater.  Such ‘girl’ things to take from guys I know, right.

But the fact is, I didn’t really take them. I kept them.  I didn’t let them go when everything else went.  Last time I really sat down and cleaned out my life’s ‘junk’ I did it for two. It was mine, and it was his, and I cleaned out and flushed so much away.

Just like my giveaway pile now, I got ride of so much that was drenched in memories.

Now it sounds strange but I can recall memories with everything I have, unless I really have no clue where it came from. I know where “we” have been together: my stuff and me.

I remember the time I got my heel stuck in a sidewalk grate and walked almost a block without a shoe(the pretty black with purple top Prada ones). Or the green and pink Jacob solder bag I trekked allover France. Everything has a memory, a place, and a story.

And then I have these two shirts. I have no idea why I kept these shirts. It is a plain grey cotton sweater that even though I have grown in size I still swim in it, and a black (but really looks navy) hoodie with nothing on it, warnout cuffs and missing drawstring.

I have no memories attached to these items. I have no idea where they were purchased, or even when they were worn. Yet, these were the two things I decided would help me remember someone: the person who owned them.

Sometimes it isn’t “things” that we remember.  We remember an experience, a feeling, and even a sensation.

I remember France, and that trip, and the friends I was with, how much I laughed, and all the things we did. The bag didn’t give me that. I remember the great night out I had with an amazing friend when I happen to lose my shoe.

It’s never been about the shoes, the bags, the coats, and even the glasses.

And then…

I remember a boy that I loved, not the clothes that he owned.

Yesterday I had the pleasure (and I do mean pleasure) of spending time with the most amazing Nando and Nathan.

And we made a little video with huge production costs!

So check it out! Post a comment! And tell us what our next Hot Topic should be about!

SIDEBAR: I’m never chewing gum again….and I need some lipstick!

I was on the train the other day coming from brunch and sitting across from me were two guys with shopping bags. They had obviously taken full advantage of the post holiday sales.

FACT: I have not done ANY post holiday shopping. I hate shopping with the masses.

One had a big pink bag in which he started to pull things out of and they started their conversation.

Now this wasn’t any pink bag, this was a Victoria Secret bag. I’m not thinking anything of it. Maybe the teddy he’s holding up is for his lady, or mom, or man, or even himself, no judgment. Then he pulls out a bottle of lotion. And they smell it, then another, and another. I’m intrigued. I shut off my iPod and listen to them talking.

“I’m just not attracted to her body, but other then that she’s perfect”

“Well I’d give her the brown one, it smells sexy.”

” Yeah in the dark it’ll smell sexy”

HOLD THE PHONE!

Let me break it down for you because after that little exchange I was to busy trying to keep my jar off my lap that I don’t remember the exact dialogue.

This guy, ‘Victory Secret bag guy’ had purchased a whole bag of stuff in hopes that his girlfriend would become more “sexy” more “physically attractive”.

Ok, I can admit that some times you fall for people that physically you never thought you would. At least I like to still hope guys do (otherwise how else am I going to land one)

And sometimes people try to change their partner’s looks. This mostly happens to guys. Their ladies make them get haircuts, buy them clothes, and what have you. (oh you poor boys)

But body lotion? If she’s physically not attractive that’s one thing, but smelly? That is a deal breaker I’m sorry. I’m not talking I haven’t showered went to the gym smelly, I’ll give everyone that. But needing to smell better in the “bedroom” that’s just Bunk!

Poor guy with the smelly girlfriend I feel bad for your friend who had to help you smell lotions on the train. He was cute but I’d never date a guy who’s friend will lather his lady in lotion just so he can have sex with her scent cause he’s not attracted to the body.

I meet a nice guy at a new years party last year (well technically it was this year but whatever…). We exchanged numbers and he called me, in fact we had about 5 really wonderful phone conversations before we went on a date, and we dated for about 2-months or so after that. Actually we dated till he became a complete douchebag but that’s another story.

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.