The Lost Plum…

I had a bad night the other day. I got upset, and the fact that I was upset over something I really shouldn’t be caring about is what really upset me.  The fact that I even cared made it even worse.

I always say every guy I’ve ever been serious about has cheated on me. Well all but one, but I always had my doubts about him as well. Now, I didn’t doubt him because other guys had cheated on me, or all guys are douche-bags kind of way. It was more just a feeling I got from him and this might have been one of the reasons we drifted (there are so many other reasons/issues but that’s a novel not a blog post)

So the other night I couldn’t sleep, and my mind was already turning. I needed something to watch/listen too as I rolled over and tried to sleep. I looked through hulu (nothing really was catching my eye), netflixs (nothing either), and then I quickly went to the living room to look at our much to large DVD collection. I for some reason grabbed a DVD I had never watched, a DVD I knew I didn’t really care if I feel asleep during, I mean what could possible happen that I would care about.

I grabbed a documentary filmed with ‘band boy’ and his band as they did a major tour.  I had heard great things about it, remember 14 yearold girls pushing me out of the way to get it signed, but I personally had never watched it. So, I start to watch the 5 boys depart on their world tour adventure.

SIDEBAR: I feel like I need to mention the fact that at the time of this tour ‘band boy’ and I were dating, and I was even lucky enough to go on location too much of said world tour.

I’m watching, I’m watching, I’m watching. I turn over, I close my eyes, and I’m entering sleep. And then…I hear parts of a conversation, I turn over, I hit volume up, and slide my glasses on. I then rewind, then rewind again.

Are you fucking kidding me?!

I watch with my jaw open as the boys are teasing, laughing at, and discussing ‘band boys’ hickey, and the girl he was with the night before.

A hickey!? Are you fucking kidding me! I rewind some more, check location. Yup, ok a hickey in less then 48hours since I had left him/seen him.

So, there you have it.  My one and only ‘maybe’ did indeed cheat on me. It is now official:  Every guy I have ever been in a serious relationship with has indeed cheated on me.

Now my feelings on cheating and such are for another day. All I will say is that the only thing about this that bothers me is he lied to me. Period. That’s the worst part (and even more so because I still consider him a friend) I’m upset with myself, because I knew this, I knew in the back of my head, and in my being that this happened at least once and now it feels like numerous times. I should have trusted myself, and I thought by that point I did, but it turns out no.

I’m very angry with myself about this! I hate when I let my guard down.  I also hate that this is bothering me so much.  BUT, I will say I’m glad I broke the heart of a guy who lets one night stands give hickeys!  Who does that?

Mama Plum is always known for giving me doozy relationship advice.

One of the few ‘warnings’ she always gives me is:  ”Don’t forget Spooning always leads to Forking.”

And I’d have to say I pretty much agree. Except, this ‘rule’ of hers only works in certain spoon positioning game plays. Obliviously, this only works when males are involved (sorry to all my women-loving female readers…here read this)

I usually spoon with only males (check), but yet I don’t find so much that this rule applies to me.  Maybe, that’s because this Plum prefers to be the Big Spoon rather then the Little Spoon.

It’s pretty hard for me as the big spoon to establish the forking (hey now, watch your dirty mind there), although I pretty much have nailed it down. We all know how I feel about morning sex.

I love being the big spoon! I proudly admit this fact.  I know it’s not a female trait to have, and I will agree that there is always something about being held/having someone wrap their arm around you.  But come on, Big Spoons are where it’s at!

Interesting FACT about Plum: I love to touch things with the ends of my fingers. I’m always rubbing them together, rubbing them on my clothes, eating food with my hands.  My fingertips are like one of my ‘zones’ if I can use that word. (god, I hate that word)

Being the big spoon allows me to touch and more importantly rub my fingertips against skin. (that sounds dirty..i know, I know!) I should have been a massage therapist.  I can rub/touch/scratch skin till the cows come home.

And believe me, I have never once heard a complaint!

So where are all my movies, TV shows, books, soft-core porn, music video and in general other ladies who like being the big spoon at?!

(reason #___why I’m single: I’m in charge with my big spoon! well it’s more of a spork of sorts.)

SIDEBAR: When the word Interesting is placed before FACT, it is subjective and subject to interpretation…aka, you might not find it interesting.

(reason #___why I’m single: I referred to myself as a spork!)

I live in a city where it’s said to be hard to meet potential mates. A city where single men far out way the single women ratio. (And they know it)

So, I like countless other singles turn to our one true friend to help out. We turn to the one who is always there for us, who seems to always solves our problems: the Internet!

We jump on the information superhighway, and start cruising for cute hitchhikers!

Now, I’ve checked out a lot of online sites, have countless accounts (not always active), and have had my share of pleasant experiences. But let’s be honest for a minute, we’re talking about me here, so I’ve had MORE then my fair share of Bad experiences!

SIDEBAR: I got stood up by my first 6 Internet dates. SIX! Number 7 was the first to ever show, and despite a lot of things that gained him major points!

Sites that fit a niche fascinate me. Ones designed for a specific type of person, interested in specific things. In fact I search them out, and read content, it’s actually very fascinating.

GOAL: to find the site with guys who like hockey watching, beer drinking, funny girls in glasses…(It’s only a matter of time)

So I explore the Internet more because it fascinates me. What people write in order to get a match get my brain moving, gyrating, and hopefully laughing.

On that note, is it wrong for me to laugh at and enjoy one of my new favorite online relationship and dating sites? Love in the Dumps.

Love in the Dumps is for those of us that don’t only have the (mis)fortune of being single and have no one to really blame but ourselves, and we’re cool with that! It is a wonderful site filled with fun off beat advice, cool musing of singledom (or singledoom), and quirky quips of being single or ‘in the dumps’. It’s a place where I just might meet mr.wrong, who when mixed with all my wrong, we just might create a Right!

eHarmony has ads on television that claims to not be a dating site, but a relationship site that will match people on the deepest foundations of compatibility. Really, LITD is no different. Not only can you read all their neat-o stuff but you can sign up in their personals section, oh pardon me, their impersonals section.  There you can compare each others ‘deepest’ compatibilities. Like your shared love of Ambian and/or Adderol, or your relationship exit strategy history/weapon of choice.

Cause at the end of the day making your relationship shortcomings public is just another nail in the already full of nails proverbial coffin that most of us live in.

So grab your hammers and start whacking….just don’t forget to laugh as you do it!

(at yourself, and maybe at others)

FACT: eHarmony didn’t except me, they didn’t exactly turn me down, just said that my chances of finding a mate in the NYC area were pretty much slim to slit your wrists now…

(reason #___why I’m single: not even a single person on LITD has contacted me/liked my profile)

I talked the other day about notes I make/leave on my cell phone. I forced myself to do a good clean up on my phone. In doing so I found notes or “snippets” I had from boot camp, most of which I have yet to address.

So, let me indulge you on another piece of knowledge I’ve learned via Dating Boot Camp. The topic was things NOT to do in bed. I’ve already talked about a few of these before but I forgot about this morsels:

Laughing. Do not laugh in bed.

Now, at first one may think that this means no laughing at the guy’s package, or hairy chest, or what have you. However, this is actually for all laughter. Never laugh in bed. Period. Apparently, guys are very self-conscious (and the ladies are too) and any sign of laughing automatically makes them think you are laughing AT them.

Back the clown car up a minute!

I get that we are all self-conscious, about our bodies and then some. But no laughing! There are two worlds I don’t want to live in: The one with out sex, and the one without laughter.

I don’t think I’m alone in this, but laughing in bed is a turn on. Sex is fun, awkward, ridiculous, and is simply a great time to giggle, laugh and make fun of the situation. The say laughter is the best medicine, and they are right! Laughter is contagious and in a sense lets us let lose.

We’ve all had those shirts caught on our heads, hands tangled in hair, bras not coming undone, that’s right I’m not wearing underwear, zips not working, belt buckle mishaps, and I’m tick-a-lish moments!

As awkward as some of these moments maybe we can all admit they are funny, and there is nothing wrong with laughing. Laughter tells someone are enjoying the moment, and having a good time.

We aren’t five years old anymore, no one laughs and points fingers at someone else flaws.

So jump in bed (or someplace else) roll around and laugh! It’s ok to do it, I promise!

SIDEBAR: Laughter increases your life span (this is a proven study) so why wouldn’t you want to increase your sex life. Just saying!

(reason #___why I’m single: I’ve listed cleanup/sort blackberry notes to my calendar every month)

I’m a nice roasted plum right now, after last weekend of baking in the sun. A girl’s weekend with 9 girls getting on planes (not all together) equals alot of magazines. I was actually very impressed that no ones magazines over lapped, quite a feat I must say.

As I crisped up in the sun (even with my old lady hat and 75spf) I stumbled along an article on taboo bed/sex practices. And one “taboo” activity that 53% of women partake in is: owning a sex toy.

I didn’t know sex toys were so taboo they have them everywhere! I’m surprised Whole Foods hasn’t come out with a line yet.  But then again, I can’t really talk because this plum falls into the other half, that other 47%. I do not own a sex toy of any kind. Nope, don’t, not for me, I never have. To me the best part of sex is someone else. Period.

But I’m in a minority, and I am always been told I don’t know what I’m missing.  My usually response is “have you meet (insert a name)? Cause you’re the one missing out!”  Te he he…it’s funny, but not because there usually isn’t an (insert a name) * sigh *

Now the magazine also had a little test with picture. “Is it a sex toy or isn’t it one”

The test was pretty easy, and we all had a little laugh over some of the contraptions. But then we all cringed and wrinkled our noses when we saw the next item.

A battery powered loofah! Not a sponge or a nice soft puff or anything like that.

A loofah!

A loofah!? Are you kidding me? They have to be kidding me! Loofah’s aren’t soft in any way shape or form, in fact they are meant to scrub off dead skin (and in some case scrap off not quite dead skin). Why do you need to make that prickly little guy vibrate?

I am from now on officially making the reason I do not own a sex toy that I refuse to be in the same group of people that masturbate with loofahs!

SIDEBAR: while at the spa during our ritual bath this weekend I couldn’t help but ask what everyone was doing with their loofah’s.

FACT: I contributed GQ and Rollingstone…talk amounts yourselves on that one!