The Lost Plum…

I’m going way back to Dating Boot Camp today.  Remember that?

Anyways, Man Panel was asked a question that I keep thinking about. They were asked. What colour nail polish they prefer women to wear. Red, Black or no nail polish: All but one said NO nail polish.

Really? First off let’s point out this is New York City, the city where there just might be more places to get a manni peddi then get a Starbucks. So saying you prefer a woman with no nail polish is like finding a woman without hair.

Here is my thought.  Guys (and these man panel guys) LIKE girls in nail polish. Any colour nail polish.

They just don’t like THEIR girl in nail polish.

Boys love girls in sexy nail colours, just like they like girls in short skirts, with makeup and their hair did.  But take “their girl” and do her up and regardless of the relationship, they get a tad bit jealous. Just as women get jealous when their man is all dressed sexy and having women fawning all over them.

Nail polish is to show you off, and to make you appear sexual, hence why your man may not want you to wear it.

But saying you prefer all women to not wear nail polish is just a stupid excuse for not saying you don’t want “your lady to appear sexual to others”

So that is that.

I wrote before about how I joke about falling head of heels for the first guy to call me beautiful.

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.

I’ve been thinking about High School alot lately. Not cause I miss it (well sometimes I do lets be honest) and not cause I want to tell you about some High School crush. (Oh my high school crush is so cute, I want to facebook stalk him all day) I been thinking more of the “idea” and more so the term “High School”.

It’s been coming up in discussions I’ve been having alot. And I was talking to one of my friends about it the other day and I have a theory.

But I guess we need alittle back-story, alittle “meat” persay.

This really good friend ended a relationship a while ago. Since then my friend has had hardships when it comes to behavior on the other persons end, especially when it comes to third parties. The ex doesn’t tell them about specific things but basically makes it hard for them to be friends with each of them. Ex basically says that “friend” is dead to them, but if you want to be friends with such a person that ok. Yes the picking sides argument. “What are we in High School!?”

Now to be fair I had a situation like this once. An ex and I shared an entire close group of friends and we broke up, and something along the lines of the following took place:

Plum: It’s not about picking sides.

Him: Well they all like me better!

Plum: Whatever, they were my friends first.

(And so on)

Again I say “What are we in High School?” But at that time yeah pretty much so. I technically was only a year or two out of High School. (But that does not make the above conversation expectable…or does it?)

So lets bring it back to today, and my friend, and my theory.

See here is the thing. My friend is older then I am. My friend has past 35 further then I am close to 35. And the thing is most people I meet that I want to shake and scream “what are you in high school!?” Are older then I am. By at least 10 years minimum.

So my theory, ready? These people are living the drama of High School and they love it! They love being apart of the ‘High School’ drama because it is actually for the first time present in their lives. And that excites them!

For the first time they have people to be petty with, have people to talk about behind their backs, get to fight over what to wear, who to date, and who said what about whom. It’s the first time for all these people to in a sense be (dare I say it) COOL!

See the rest of us who look at these 35-40-45+ year olds and want to look them dead in the eye and ask why on earth they want to be in High School should actual just turn around and not judge and let this phase pass.

It’s actually kind of sad. Cause while the rest of us are over those petty stupid drama games we have the right to be. We lived it when we were in High School.

But there were those that didn’t.

So let’s let them have there High School drama temper tantrums and bitch fits, and 16 yearold breakups. Let them get it all out and maybe then they can grow up like the rest of us and realize their behavior is all alittle too “high school”

Because let’s be honest. We all couldn’t have been the Prom Queen who ran student council, did 6 other extra curricular, and dated the hot older Varsity captain, now can we! Some of us were cool in high school and now we’re over it. And then some of us I guess are just getting “cool” now and maybe just maybe they’ll get over it.

It just sucks that we can’t all be grownup in the world of relationships and date like we’re all 16 years old again.

I was having a facebook chat session with pretty much my favorite man in the world, “Steve”.

And he ended the chat with a statement, a pleasantry, a signature, a farewell, that for once didn’t bother me but that’s cause it fit the conversation we were having.

I hate, loath, cringe when I see or hear the following:

“Ciao”

Seriously, ciao?!

You are picking that to end this conversation?

Ciao!?

* shakes fist at the screen *

I will refuse to contact/reply to guys who put this in their first contact email on any online dating site, or first email/text/call/ask to ask me out. I may stop talking to friends for a minimum of a week if they use it, and have even flat out called people out on it…./slash/ gone ape shit on them.

I don’t know why. But I do know that I find nothing about this word appealing, romantic or ‘international’.  It’s just stupid!

Do not ever try to date me if you like using this as your signature on an email, a chat session, or even worse you actually say it to people.

Unless you are Italian (like it’s spoken in your home as a 1st language or you are from there) OR we are actually IN Italy, do not I repeat DO NOT end with a  ”ciao” at me!

Ok that is all.

FACT: ‘Steve’ and I were discussing pros and cons of different hotels in Rome for an upcoming trip. Thus it was appropriate.

It takes alot for me to invite a guy over. I feel like I am always the odd female-duck out in this case.

Girlfriends I have and ones I just meet are always blown away by the fact that I will go home with a guy far before I take him home. Sometimes months before he even knows where I really live.

Girls always tell me they like the ability of telling someone to leave when they want them too. That it’s on their time, their territory, and their terms.

But what if they don’t leave? I however, like the ability of leaving when I see fit. Whether that is 3pm the next day or 3-minutes after walking in the door.

It’s only truly on your terms if you’re the guest. Unless he’s a serial axe murder then it’s on his terms. But as my friend ‘Tex’ would say, “I can’t get my deposit back with blood stains all over”.

When I was making my move to my new apartment a few months back I realized something.

I had never had sex in my room where I had lived for 2 years. Two years! 2 years without having sex meant my poor bed might be comfy but she sure was lonely.

In fact my bed hasn’t seen that much action at all in its 5-year life.  Poor bed.

I guess I don’t really have a point here, except that I like things on my terms I like the ability to leave situations I no longer want to be a part of. And I guess it’s just another way to show how I can be really closed off sometimes.

I speak my mind, I act out, I talk way more then I should in details far more then necessary, but when it comes to my home, my private literal space I don’t just let anyone come through the door.

I like having emotional connections, memories and heartbreaks outside of my familiar: Outside of my comfort zone. My home (where ever that maybe) is that for me. It’s my space, my life, mine.

Anyways, maybe I need to get this bed some more action before I get a new one. Because in my old apartment if those walls could talk they’d skip right over me and go to the next tenant.  But this new place is all mine, so maybe I need to give it some character. But then again that would mean trusting a boy enough to have him in my home…hmmm….we’ll have to see.