topanga

i dont date.

i dont remember the last date that i went on. i dont remember the first date that i went on.

hell! i dont know if ive ever been on a date!

i dont 'do' dates.

and even if it was a date, i wouldnt consider it a 'date'. it would be something else... 'hangin' out', 'getting a drink', 'grabbing a bite', 'watching a movie', 'going for a fun run'...

yep, im that guy.

im the kinda guy that could go out with a girl - pay for her dinner, take her to a show, buy her drinks, walk her home, and STILL not consider it a date.

it would just be a normal (albeit) expensive night out.

my 'dates' must fuckin love me.

of course since i dont consider it a date, i dont necessarily act like someone who's on a date. sure, i open the door for her, make her laugh, keep the conversation and the drinks flowing, pay the tab, walk her to her door etc. but there are certain rituals that i dont (necessarily) always 'do'.

which might be confusing.

which might throw my ‘dates’ for a loop.

which might get my ‘dates’ wonderin, 'what did i do wrong? was it something i said? was it something i did? was it something i didnt say or do? why didnt... anything happen?'

my 'dates' must fuckin hate me.

(baby, im just not that into you) ha!

which (to be brutally honest) is actually the truth of the matter.

i have alot of friends - i have alot of girl friends, but for one reason or another, i dont want to date any of them. because if i did, we would probably be dating (minus the dates). ha!

of course its never that cut and dry. of course its never JUST my decision. of course its possible that shes just not into me.

which (if that was the case) would work out great for both of us.

we're just not that into each other.

if only it was that easy. if only it was that convenient. if only my life was an after school special.

but its not. and i am thankful. because then i would most likely be 'dating' a girl named topanga, and i would never have any hope of gettin' some. ha!

but seriously, if i dont date, how the hell do i meet people? if i dont date, how the hell do i get to know people? if i dont date, how the hell am i supposed to find the 'one'?

i don’t know.

i don’t know how i meet people. i don’t know how i get to know people. i don’t know how i will find the ‘one’. but i do and i will.

and i am thankful that i do. and i am thankful that i will.

i am thankful that i have a strong family. i am thankful that i have a good job. i am thankful that im not timid. i am thankful that im not (too) shy. i am thankful that im affable. i am thankful that i DO pick up the phone and call. i am thankful that i am patient. i am thankful that i am flexible. i am thankful that i am not too ugly (ha!). i am thankful that i love to learn. i am thankful that i love to read. i am thankful that i know the difference between then and than (ha!). i am thankful that i can string a bunch of words together into a coherent sentence. i am thankful that i can string a couple of coherent sentences into an entire blog. i am thankful that you guys enjoy reading my blog. i am thankful that i like to cook. i am thankful that i like to eat. i am thankful that i like to run. i am thankful that i volunteer. i am thankful that i play volleyball. i am thankful that i play football. i am thankful that i can play practically any sport that i want to.

i am thankful because all of these things make it THAT much easier to meet someone. i am thankful because my strengths make ME a better person, which (in turn) will help me meet - get to know - and find the ‘one’.

but most of all, i am thankful for my friends. we may not be dating, but on this thanksgiving, i am MOST thankful for having each of you in my life.

and who knows… maybe one of you is the ‘one’.

he's just not that... full of shit.

so instead of writing each of you back, instead of responding to each of your comments, instead of commenting on insightful/interesting posts in each of your blogs... i find myself trying to read he's just not that into you.

and as i expected, 'he's just not that into you' is complete and utter shite.

i havent even gotten past page five.

after going off on more than a number of my female friends about this book, one of them finally told me to shove my uninformed opinion where the sun doesnt shine, and lent me her copy.

saweet! $20 savings. cha ching!

most of you should have an idea of my feelings on this book. if you dont... you should.

but despite my previous 'feelings', my hope was to read this book with an open mind, and an open heart. my plan was to keep my cynicism to a minimum, and try to restrain my laughter.

i didnt even make it past page 5.

i still plan on reading onwards - in fact i plan on finishing the book. but all that talk of an open yada yada yada has been dutifully tossed into the proverbial dumpster.

because this book is a joke.

as ive previously stated, i agree with many of the points that this book stands for:

1. if a man does not make the effort to call you, he is just not that into you
   
2. if a man is just not that into you, you should not make excuses for why he is just not that into you
   
3. if you are not making excuses for him, you should not waste your time waiting for him to call
   
4. if you are not waiting for him to call, you should go out and find someone new - someone who WILL call you.
   
5. yada yada yada
   

i agree wholeheartedly with these statements. and my impression is that these statements are the basis of this book. so in THEORY i agree with this book. in THEORY i think this book is telling women the truth about something that they should already know (but apparently dont).
and then i read the top of page five.

page five of greg behrendt and liz tuccillo's book talks about the women who was the catalyst for 'he's just not that into you'. in the book, greg's description of this women states, 'Here is this beautiful, talented, super-smart girl, who is a writer on an award winning TV show, a show known for its incisive observations about men, who you would think could have her pick of just about any dude around."

i thought this book was about telling women the truth. i thought it was about providing some insights when it comes to men. i thought that the author's intentions were to tell women what men really think.

'beautiful... talented... super-smart' sounds alot like somoene's fairy tale. 'beautiful... talented... super-smart' sounds alot like somebody blowing smoke up someone else's (ass) skirt.

in other words it sounds alot like sugar coated bullshit.

now, i dont know the women that this description describes. i dont know if she is (or isnt) any (or all) of these things. i dont know if this description is accurate. but my guy bullshit meter strongly suggests that it is not.

maybe she is 'beautiful' in the inner goddess kinda way. maybe her 'talent' and her 'super-smart'ness enhances her beauty. but i hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it takes alot for a guy to lose interest in a women who is beautiful. she'd have to be box-of-rocks dumb. she'd have to be anna-nicole smith annoying. she'd have to be britney spears melodramatic. she'd have to be lindsay lohan bitchy.

in other words, it would take ALOT for a guy to be 'just not that into...' her' if she was beautiful.
in other words i think greg behrendt is full of shit. i think greg behrendt tells enough of the truth for women to think that the book makes sense, but glosses over some of the more salient points that need to be made.

'he's just not that into you', should be renamed to 'shes just not that hot'

ive seen the 'behind the scenes of sex-and-the-city' tv special (yeah im embarrassed), and i feel comfortable stating this: the writers for the show are surprisingly... not hot.

some of them are in fact... ugly.

so ladies, let me tell it to you straight - if you are hot, and a guy walks away because he's just not that into you, its because you have major issues. BUT if you aren't hot, and a guy walks away because he's just not that into you, its possibly because you're not hot... enough for him.

five pages down, many more to go.

fuck. ha!

a smile of anticipation

the smell of an airplane lavoratory is a one part ass to two parts chemical.

it wafts out the door every time someone enters or exists - almost like a friendly wave saying both hello and good bye. its hard to imagine that anyone could consider this smell to be a good one.

but i do.

as i fling myself eastward across the rocky mountains i cant help but inwardly smile at this smell - (smile and vomit at the same time).

this smell reminds me that i am going home.

i am sitting in the aisle seat of an emergency exit row. sitting in an emergency exit seat on an airplane affords a traveler many advantages. for instance, if the place were to crash (and hypothetically still be intact) i would be the first person out of the plane. in less apocalyptic circumstances, an emergency exit seat provides me more legroom than any other seat in the airplane. and lets not forget that the emergency exit seats also have the dubious advantage of being located directly adjacent to the airplane lavoratories.

cue smile and vomit.

every friday, i board the same boring airplane, sit in the same boring seat, watch the same boring movie, eat the same boring trail mix while downing the same boring soda. i fly so often that traveling is very ... boring.

traveling is bog standard.

some people look forward to going on an exotic vacation, or flying to visit some family or friends - i look forward to chillin in my apartment and sleeping in my bed.

most people look forward to leaving home. i look forward to going home.

its hard for me to admit this - but now that i am single, i look forward to going home more than i did when i was in a relationship. its hard for me to admit this because... i feel like im being a complete jerk to my ex. while we were dating, home was where she was. going home meant that i was going towards her. and its hard (and slightly sad) for me to admit that i was less excited to see her, than i am to see... no one.

which is a completely unfair statement to make - i loved my ex girlfriend very much. i loved being with her very much. i loved to see her and talk with her and hold her and kiss her and laugh with her.

boy did we laugh.

but towards the end of our relationship, i realized that it wasnt exciting to fly home anymore. going home wasnt fireworks and the fourth july - it was just me... going home.

dont get me wrong, we HAD those weekends. when we first started dating i couldnt wait to get off the plane. i couldnt wait to get off the plane, and jump in a cab. i couldnt wait to get off the plane, jump in a cab and wrap my arms around her. when we first started dating i used to surprise her by coming home a day early, or she used to surprise me by meeting me at the airport.

there is never a better feeling than walking down that long airport exit ramp into the arms of a beautiful-smiling-ecstatic-to-see-you-missed-you-so-much-lets-make-out-in-front-of-everyone girlfriend. (take notes ladies, this will come in handy some day).

but inevitably those surprises slowly became fewer and farther between. and i stopped really looking forward to flying home. i was happy to see her. and i was happy to spend time with her. i was happy to talk with her and hold her and kiss her and laugh with her. but it wasnt the knaw-your-stomach-into-a-pretzel-get-me-off-this-plane feeling anymore. it was more mellow. it was more relaxed.

maybe this was my heart's way of telling me that we made the right choice. maybe this was my heart's way of telling me that we werent meant to be together - that i didnt care enough about her. that i didnt care enough about us.

or maybe this was my mind's way of saying - im bored (pout). im bored and i need something new. im bored and i need something new - something that's going jazz things up make me feel butterflies again.

this thought is shitmypantsrubitonmyface scary. ha!

if my mind (or my heart) wanders after only a year and a half relationship - if my mind (or my heart) is bored and needs excitement after only a year and a half, how the hell am i going to go the distance when i get married? how am i going to keep that excitement going after five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty five YEARS of being with the same person?

how how how? (im half native american) ha!

my only hope is that (if) when i meet the 'one', it will. or more importantly, it wont, but it wont matter either. i wont crave excitement. i wont crave what (apparently) i crave now.

which is alot of pressure to put on something that we all agree is a very tenuous concept. tenuous and questionable. but its all that ive got. its the only answer that i can think of. its the only thing that i can hope for.

its weird to hope for, but when im finally married (when ive finally found the 'one') i hope that the smell of an airplane lavoratory will still (occassionally) make me smile.

the posterboy (a cheatin' repost from the past)

i like to think of myself as a hopelessly romantic realist. my ex-girlfriends may try to disagree with this fact, (my pragmatism begets conservativism begets pessimism begets realism) BUT i will respectfully disagree. afterall how can you tell me that im not a hopeless romantic? how can you say that, when i believe in kitschy shit like true love, soul mates, the one, the perfect girl for me etc etc. i should be the posterboy of romantics everywhere!

unfortunately this posterboy is also an oxymoron. afterall, how can i be logical, methodical, and realistic in both action and thought, and yet feel so strongly about something that ive never seen nor touched, nor experienced. now before you get confused, i want to clarify that im not talking about love; i have loved and been in-love before. love is a giddy high that you never want to come down from... but if youve been paying attention to my posts, obviously im not nearly as giddy as i used to be.

whats amazing about believing in all that "stuff", is that we continue to do so, even after failed relationship after failed relationship after failed relationship. i dont (just like most of you) consider all of my relationships failures. some were ideally suited for the moment, fulfilling a need, an itch, an urge, a void. on that basis, its hard to say that they were failures. but to put it quite simply, they didnt go the distance (and maybe they werent supposed to). its sad to say, but every relationship that we've committed to will eventually fail. there is just one exception, and that happens only as your very last relationship (if it even happens). woah! thats alot of pressure to throw out there. but its the truth. my past relationships... all came to the end. i expect that my most of my future relationships will come to an end too. all except one (hopefully).

i wonder what Pavlov would have to say about our kamikaze dating behavior? it makes me think of fraternity hazing, "SMACK!!! thank you sir, may i have another". it makes me think of going an unknown number of rounds in the ring with a cross between mike tyson and muhammad ali. people who believe in the one are the energizer bunnies of relationships. we keep on going, and going, and going, and going.

why do we do it? where did this idea come from? how did we get this way? i guess more importanly how did i get this way? in case you REALLY havent been paying attention, im a guy. im not supposed to care about relationships and soul mates. shouldnt i be more concerned with t & a?

those are all great questions, but unfortunatley this is only my third post and i dont think we've made enough progress to unravel all of these thoughts. for now, im going to keep my nose clean and keep my eyes peeled... because ya never know

dumb and dumberer

it was booty call late.
i had just gotten home from a night of clubbin, when i got the call.
it was a friend of mine. she was in a cab and wanted to know if she could come over.
i looked at my apartment – it was so messy that a deadbody would have fit right in with the current ‘décor’.
i looked at my half eaten pizza - it was plain, so my friend (a veggie) would be able to eat it.
i looked at my tv – ronco was workin his chicken oven magic on mute while my stereo kicked out some cannonball a.
i looked at my computer – i was blog hopping through space.
in otherwords, nobody was home in hooiville.
so i said sure, come on over.
because i knew it wasn’t that kinda call.
she came over and i offered up some pizza.
she doesn’t eat after drinkin, which meant more munchin and crunchin for me.
rock on.
so in between bites, i got down to business…
i asked her what was wrong.
something was rotten in denmark, and the stench was overpowering my pizza.
and i really like my pizza.
so she told me. she told me about partaking a little more than she should have that night. she told me about how one of her friends was being a bitch and an attention whore. and she told me about how this one guy at the club kept untying her top. this one guy at the club that we both knew.
munchcrunch. munchcrunch. wait just a fucking second.
its not that big of a deal, but it is that big of a fucking deal.
because she didn’t want him to.
and she told him to stop.
but he untied it again.
and she told him to stop again.
but he untied it again…
and around and around the merry-go-round they went. wee!
so there i sit, in my apartment, with a piece of pizza dangling from my mouth, suddenly wanting to be very violent to this guys head. body. and spleen.
and im normally not a violent person. minus the seven years of rugby.
but while i thought of different ways to rip off his head and shit on his brain, i logically had to ask the next question – ‘why didn’t you make a fuss? why didn’t you kick his ass? (she could have). why didn’t you scream and shout and make a scene? (she would have). why didn’t you tell me about this while we were THERE?’
so she told me why. there were lots of reasons. some of them good. some of them not so good. some of them very bad.
but i understood that it was her choice, she had made it, and she was a big girl.
and i knew she hadn’t come to my place to so i could kick this guys ass. she hadn’t come to my place for a lecture on how to deal with assholes either. she had came to my place to tell someone who would understand.
so i understood.
even tho i didn’t really understand anything.

we're all rumor whores.

we love to whisper it. we love to listen to it. we love to gather in a circle and gos the sip it. its what we do. its who we are. there's nothing greater than being the first to know. being the first to drop the proverbial g-bomb and scoop the group. i know something you dont know... we love it. we hate it. we love to hate it, even while we do it. but do it we must. and deep down, we all understand why we do it too. which is why it doesnt bother me that the topic du jour has been whether or not im hookin' up with a friend of mine. friends with benefits - my best kinda friend. i understand why people think it. i understand why people do it. why they're compelled. compelled to postulate. compelled to probe. compelled to poke. they really want to know the truth, but they dont really want to know the truth. because if its not true, its more fun to pretend that it is true. which is why most of the time they dont know squat - which is the way i like it. i like to keep my secrets... secret. i tend to kiss and tell... no one. (except you guys of course). ha! i could care less if people think we're sleeping together. she's not bothered by it - which means that im not bothered by it. sticks and stones may break my bones, but two lovers gossip does not us make. or does it?

ive been casually vibin' someone for a while - very cute, great smile, a triathalete - and i finally got a chance to chat her up at a halloween party this past weekend. except it wasnt anything special. which is maybe her fault, but its probably my fault. my fault that i couldnt think up anything in common to talk about (even though i know we have plenty). my fault that i didnt compliment her on her fairy costume (even though i really dug her pink kangaroo sneakers). my fault that i didnt realize that she probably thought that i was involved with my friend... all the while i was making awkward conversation with her. she must think that im such a slimeball. greeeeaaat... cant wait for that rumor to start kickin' around.

sometimes what everyone thinks is actually more important than the truth. sometimes what everyone thinks is actually more important than what anyone can prove. all it takes is one person to start talking about it, and everyone else will pick up on it and believe.

and unless you speak up and stop the presses - unless you speak up and tell people that the rumor is bullshit, the rumor will become the truth.

sounds alot like our presidency dontchya think? ha!

im all about it

if there ever was an official day to pick up women (and vice versus), it would be halloween.

god said, 'let there be a day for provocative costumes, lots of alcohol consumption, and guilt free lust for someone that you won't be able to recognize again (unless they put back on their blond wig and a c school girl outfit)'. and he made it so.

and it was all that we imagined it would be. ha!

frankly, im usually all about halloween. not for the previously stated reasons, but of course for all of the previously stated reasons. halloween is just a FUN holiday. its fun to be something you're not. its fun to conceptualize and make a costume (no store bought costumes for this boyo!!!). and because it truly is fun to meet new people.

sadly i cant say that i met anyone special this weekend. there were plenty of girls, plenty of potential opportunities, plenty of signs (several times i SWEAR i could see little aircraft carrier men with those light up batons waving me in), but i just didnt want anything to happen.

sometimes its tough to 'know' about someone, when they've got fake blood caked all over their face. ha!

truth be told, this halloween was fun, but it was slightly dampened by my penchant for retrospection (thats right, its a word). it was the first major holiday that ive had since my breakup. it was the first major holiday that i didnt spend with my ex. it was the first major holiday that i had a comparison for - i knew who i was with last halloween, but who was i with this halloween?

but i shouldnt pretend to be such a gloomy gus. my halloween wasnt really rain clouds and lightening bolts.

because here is who i was with THIS halloween:

1) a newbie to chicago, who told me that she was grateful that i had gone out of my way to help make her transition to chi-ville a good one.

2) a friend who gets off (as much as i do) on making our own halloween costumes.

3) a fantastic group of under privileged school kids who are starting to look upto me as some weird pseudo father figure. (hopefully not in the 'luke, i am your father' kinda way) ha!

4) a diverse group of volunteers who are as fun as they are philanthropic.

5) two incredible women who honestly bring a giddy smile to my face everytime i hang out with them. its nothing sexual, its totally just who they are.

6) a friend who deserves to be dating the perfect guy, but who is happy to be stuck drinking pints with me instead.

if i hadnt broken up with my ex, then i wouldnt have met any of these people... i wouldnt have made any of these friends... i wouldnt be doing any of the things that i have done.

and that is what i am all about this halloween.