Bahaha. I'm so awesome. I plug an awesome blogger on the same day that I take over for her while she's on vacation. I'm SHAMELESS.
Ahem.
Hi everyone. If you didn't guess by the blatant guest-postery, it's Ben from No Ordinary Rollercoaster, taking over yet another unsuspecting blog with my propaganda of wiener dogs, suburbs, common-law marriage and other genuinely un-20-something characteristics. Would it help to know that I'm listening to Girlicious as I write this?
By the way, who exactly is it that wants to be like them? I think that's a crucial missing detail in their shiteous song. I think it would be more accurate if it was the Pussycat Dolls singing the song to Girlicious. And even then, I think I'd be embarrassed for everyone involved.
Back to business.
It just so happens that Alice is visiting my neck of the woods this week. For that reason, I think there's no better time than the present to describe the dream date that I would have taken her on. Why aren't we doing said date? Because the lure of the swimming pool has left me hungover with a taste of heatstroke. I suck. However, one day our paths will cross and at least we'll have a plan. So without further ado...
10:30am - Meet for brunch. This is important because I don't do meal-skipping. I needs my breakfast and Alice does too. I've decided that. We will eat many things covered in Hollandaise sauce.
12:00pm - What's that? It's now socially appropriate to drink? OKAY! We'll grab a quick beer on a nice patio before strolling the shops. Spending is better when a little looped.
1:30pm - My credit card craves abuse because he has low self esteem and it makes him feel validated. Therefore, we will go and buy clothes that are part slutty and flashy, part old time class. During this activity, we will make blatant passes at each other by commenting on each other's assets and maybe flashing some boob. Depends how the beer went down.
4:00pm - Beer makes us sleepy so we put on an awesome show like this and fall asleep for a bit. Growing drunks need their rest in order to make it through the sort of night that we deserve.
7:00pm - Time to run out and grab a light dinner and about 18 martinis each before heading home to get ready for the late shift.
9:00pm - Drink copious amounts of alcohol while showering and getting our hurr did. In Halifax, it's not cool to get to the bars before midnight since they're open until four. Must. Get. Soused. Beforehand.
12:30am - Stumble to a bar. Any bar. Or restaurant. Or video store. Whatever establishment that we can make it to without getting turned away.
1:00am - 4:00am - This time slot is appropriately foggy. We will do what we please, we will make poor choices and we will pay for them in the morning
9:00am - Wake up. Realize we are still drunk. Realize that we (hopefully) did not sleep together. Vomit. Never want to see each other again.
10:00am - Blog about it.
Showing posts with label Romance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Romance. Show all posts
Monday
Friday
Flower Pots and Voice Squats
You know how girls always have that cutesy romantic fantasy of making out in the rain? Maybe of getting flowers delivered anonymously to her office? Or there's the one where you get into a big screaming fight and then the girl says something controversial, and the guy yells can't you see it's because I love you? or something along those lines. I'm not sure what's sexy or fantastical about a screaming match though, so that last one may just be my twisted mind.
Anyway, last night I decided that making out in the rain was certainly not cute enough. Or perhaps I figured it was TOO cute. See, I don't really do cute/romantic/sweet. Yet, after a drunken night of two-stepping, cowboy hats and Bud (yuck - Bud sponsors the Stampede, it tastes like piss water to me) and after disrobing to hop in the shower with O/N, he pulls me outside for a little dance.
Side note: Yes. This really happened. To me. Yes I know, it's wrong and cheesy and a little horrifying.
Remember though; I am naked. He is naked. It's raining. We're dancing. Obviously we ended up getting it on in the backyard with me bent over a flower pot.
So afterwards, after the shower, we're laying in bed being idiots (we were trying to see who could make thier voice lower while saying "ohhhhh yeaaahh", like in that commercial? He obviously won, being a boy and all but I think I put in a valiant effort), and he tells me he has a song for me. Keep in mind he is drunk here. He says: "AA [my initials] I think I love you, AA, I think I love you, dah dah dum dah" to which I giggled awkwardly and changed the subject.
What can I say. Dancing in the rain and confessions of love in a song, all in one night? Too much for a self-proclaimed cynic to handle.
Oh, and I just hope his neighbors don't have telescopic-lensed cameras.
Anyway, last night I decided that making out in the rain was certainly not cute enough. Or perhaps I figured it was TOO cute. See, I don't really do cute/romantic/sweet. Yet, after a drunken night of two-stepping, cowboy hats and Bud (yuck - Bud sponsors the Stampede, it tastes like piss water to me) and after disrobing to hop in the shower with O/N, he pulls me outside for a little dance.
Side note: Yes. This really happened. To me. Yes I know, it's wrong and cheesy and a little horrifying.
Remember though; I am naked. He is naked. It's raining. We're dancing. Obviously we ended up getting it on in the backyard with me bent over a flower pot.
So afterwards, after the shower, we're laying in bed being idiots (we were trying to see who could make thier voice lower while saying "ohhhhh yeaaahh", like in that commercial? He obviously won, being a boy and all but I think I put in a valiant effort), and he tells me he has a song for me. Keep in mind he is drunk here. He says: "AA [my initials] I think I love you, AA, I think I love you, dah dah dum dah" to which I giggled awkwardly and changed the subject.
What can I say. Dancing in the rain and confessions of love in a song, all in one night? Too much for a self-proclaimed cynic to handle.
Oh, and I just hope his neighbors don't have telescopic-lensed cameras.
Monday
An Explanation If I May
Ok maybe not so over pseudo-bf.
For some reason, I just started thinking about him and felt nauseous. Romantic, I know. Ha. Seriously though.
I guess I should backtrack a bit on this one...
I am not a romantic - candlelit dinner with soft music? Gag. "Sweetums" and "honey" and all kissy-face while walking down the street? Hurl. I find it too contrived, typical. Fake. Call me cynical, but I'd rather a guy spontaneously pick me up and carry me across a puddle. That kind of shit is sweet.
Anyway, pseudo-bf and I met over a game of poker. His friends thought we'd hit it off and luckily didn't let me know they were trying to set us up. Otherwise I hardly think I'd have gone. Anyway they were right; we hit it off, went out bla bla.
I hate the "what-exactly-are-we-doing-with-this-whole-dating-thing" conversation. Apparently pseudo-bf was not a fan either so we really didn't have it. He had broken up with his gf of 5 years not long before we met, I had moved out of my ex-bfs place 4 months earlier. It was understood that neither of us wanted a 'Commitment'.
And so it went; we went out for dinner, talked all the time, slept together, hung out all weekend etc. but he wasn't my boyfriend and yes, I saw other people. Then we had a talk where I told him that it wasn't working. Mainly I think I was scared that I wanted something else from him and unsure that he was willing to give it. He had told me he didn't want a 'relationship' for at least a couple years when we first met (ex-gf issues or whatnot - he is nothing if not totally honest). I think the are-we-booty-calls-or-not was too confusing for me. You don't generally talk pretty much every night with just a booty call.
Yet, I randomly started talking to him again 5 months later. I think the scenario was something like this:
Me: *drunk dialing from the bar* "Pseudo-bf! What are you doing?"
Pseudo-bf: "Alice?"
Me: "Can you come get me? I want to see you" (I'm drunk! And want lovin'!)
Pseudo-bf: (probably thinking I'm the most random person ever) "uh...sure, be there soon"
And then it started again with the talking all the time, weekends together and all that jazz. We were even in Vancouver on vacation at the same time and spent pretty much the whole time he was out there in his hotel room. He was on a friends stag so you can imagine. It actually worked out great. I would go out around dinner time with my friends who live there and he would go out with the stag guys and then we'd meet up partway through the night.
Anyway, shit hit the fan and I don't think I'm ready to deal with all that in this blog yet but it sucked. We didn't talk for a few months again. Then he called. He missed me. We tried to work things out but he was hurt, I was hurt. We would hang out a few times, get scared, stop talking.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
Anyway, we had a "talk" recently where I told him I was fine with the way things were. I like going out with my friends on Fridays, I like meeting up with him and his friends later, I like hanging out on Saturdays in his T-shirts. I like that if I want to go out with the ladies on a Thursday, get drunk, and make a total ass out of myself I don't have to explain myself to anyone.
Now I'm not so sure. I think if he can't give me more (and I'm not exactly sure what I mean by that) I need to move on. I'm not that girl - the one who needs a boyfriend, the one who calls him all the time to see what he's up to, the one who gets upset if he goes out with his friends without (God-forbid) telling her. The girl who gets mad at him for every little thing. He's scared of that girl - hell, I would be, if I were a guy. He needs his space, his singledom, his whatever and I think he's afraid of me (or any girl) becoming that girl. Then again, I think after 2 years he'd clearly see I'm not about to be. I need my freedom as much as he needs his. I'm an Aries!
I mean, he's 31 now, and still things are the same.
I go through it on waves. Like on Thursday when he invited me out and I declined (so not normal of me. Not going to lie - I was totally considering it until I thought about the fact that I was wearing comfy pants and a ponytail already. The prospect of half an hour to get ready didn't thrill me). Then there was Friday - when I didn't answer (!) his call (!!) and was having an awesome time with O/N guy
But then today I miss him. Go figure.
For some reason, I just started thinking about him and felt nauseous. Romantic, I know. Ha. Seriously though.
I guess I should backtrack a bit on this one...
I am not a romantic - candlelit dinner with soft music? Gag. "Sweetums" and "honey" and all kissy-face while walking down the street? Hurl. I find it too contrived, typical. Fake. Call me cynical, but I'd rather a guy spontaneously pick me up and carry me across a puddle. That kind of shit is sweet.
Anyway, pseudo-bf and I met over a game of poker. His friends thought we'd hit it off and luckily didn't let me know they were trying to set us up. Otherwise I hardly think I'd have gone. Anyway they were right; we hit it off, went out bla bla.
I hate the "what-exactly-are-we-doing-with-this-whole-dating-thing" conversation. Apparently pseudo-bf was not a fan either so we really didn't have it. He had broken up with his gf of 5 years not long before we met, I had moved out of my ex-bfs place 4 months earlier. It was understood that neither of us wanted a 'Commitment'.
And so it went; we went out for dinner, talked all the time, slept together, hung out all weekend etc. but he wasn't my boyfriend and yes, I saw other people. Then we had a talk where I told him that it wasn't working. Mainly I think I was scared that I wanted something else from him and unsure that he was willing to give it. He had told me he didn't want a 'relationship' for at least a couple years when we first met (ex-gf issues or whatnot - he is nothing if not totally honest). I think the are-we-booty-calls-or-not was too confusing for me. You don't generally talk pretty much every night with just a booty call.
Yet, I randomly started talking to him again 5 months later. I think the scenario was something like this:
Me: *drunk dialing from the bar* "Pseudo-bf! What are you doing?"
Pseudo-bf: "Alice?"
Me: "Can you come get me? I want to see you" (I'm drunk! And want lovin'!)
Pseudo-bf: (probably thinking I'm the most random person ever) "uh...sure, be there soon"
And then it started again with the talking all the time, weekends together and all that jazz. We were even in Vancouver on vacation at the same time and spent pretty much the whole time he was out there in his hotel room. He was on a friends stag so you can imagine. It actually worked out great. I would go out around dinner time with my friends who live there and he would go out with the stag guys and then we'd meet up partway through the night.
Anyway, shit hit the fan and I don't think I'm ready to deal with all that in this blog yet but it sucked. We didn't talk for a few months again. Then he called. He missed me. We tried to work things out but he was hurt, I was hurt. We would hang out a few times, get scared, stop talking.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
Anyway, we had a "talk" recently where I told him I was fine with the way things were. I like going out with my friends on Fridays, I like meeting up with him and his friends later, I like hanging out on Saturdays in his T-shirts. I like that if I want to go out with the ladies on a Thursday, get drunk, and make a total ass out of myself I don't have to explain myself to anyone.
Now I'm not so sure. I think if he can't give me more (and I'm not exactly sure what I mean by that) I need to move on. I'm not that girl - the one who needs a boyfriend, the one who calls him all the time to see what he's up to, the one who gets upset if he goes out with his friends without (God-forbid) telling her. The girl who gets mad at him for every little thing. He's scared of that girl - hell, I would be, if I were a guy. He needs his space, his singledom, his whatever and I think he's afraid of me (or any girl) becoming that girl. Then again, I think after 2 years he'd clearly see I'm not about to be. I need my freedom as much as he needs his. I'm an Aries!
I mean, he's 31 now, and still things are the same.
I go through it on waves. Like on Thursday when he invited me out and I declined (so not normal of me. Not going to lie - I was totally considering it until I thought about the fact that I was wearing comfy pants and a ponytail already. The prospect of half an hour to get ready didn't thrill me). Then there was Friday - when I didn't answer (!) his call (!!) and was having an awesome time with O/N guy
But then today I miss him. Go figure.
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