whats your potential? ***

to the girl that made out with me on thursday night – thanks for making the first move. (im shy).

to the girl that i spent two hours talking about literature with on friday night - you made me smile when you said, ‘i had a lot more fun than i expected tonight’, because i felt the exact same way.

to the irish lass who drank with me till five am on saturday night – i had fun talking with you, and im sorry i didn’t ask for your number. i didn’t ask for your number NOT because i didn’t want to see you again, but because i didn’t want to be cliché.

and sometimes i hate being cliché.

sometimes i hate being cliché more than i hate being alone.

…

it was a good weekend.

but it wasn’t a great weekend.

it was a weekend with plenty potential.

but it wasn’t a weekend with plenty of results.

…

i got the digi’s from the girl on thursday night.

she made a really big deal about giving me her number.

she made such a big deal that it made me wonder why she didn’t call me back when i called her.

i waited a day before i called.

maybe she was embarrassed about making out a little before i left the bar.

maybe she was embarrassed about being so forward.

maybe she was embarrassed and decided that it was better to NOT return my call and be re-embarrassed again.

so i called her a second time.

just to be sure.

…

i expected more people to show up for the event on friday night.

ALOT more people.

don’t get me wrong - more people doesn’t necessarily equate to more fun.

but more people does equates to a more opportunities.

and more opportunities equates to greater potential.

and greater potential is what its all about.

potential?

potential for what?

potential for whatever is really the answer.

the potential for greatness, and the potential for failure.

the potential for connecting with someone, and the potential for feeling alone amongst a crowd of strangers.

that is what 'friday' nights are all about.

...

***ill update this post in pieces. check back periodically for new thoughts in motion.

im all about it (a cheatin repost from Nov 1st)

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.

ass much as you want it to be...

she has a GREAT ass.

wait.

stop for a second, and imagine saying that like al pacino in the movie ‘heat’.

ok now continue.

ive admired it from a distance for the past couple of weeks.

up stairs.

down stairs.

walking.

admire.

admire.

admire.

she wears simple monochromatic colors – grey pinstripe slacks. a black cardigan. a white blouse. close toed three inch heels. everything fits her perfectly

and i like it.

i like it a lot.

very classic.

very professional.

very banana republic.

and yet here i am staring right at her ass.

or dare i say, here her ass is staring right back at me.

…

ive made a new friend.

his name is alfred.

at first i found him annoying and a bit pushy.

now i simply wish he would just fuck off and leave.

unfortunately he doesn’t know when he’s outworn his welcome.

not that he was ever welcome in the first place.

...

she and i have never spoken to one another.

just the casual pass in the hallway.

traffic flowing opposite directions in a stairwell.

a meeting of the eyes, a crinkling of the minds, and a coy exchange of a smile.

…

she’s a professional.

i find that hot.

extremely hot.

women who are teachers, publicists, and sales reps are great, but i respect the hell out of a woman who is intelligent, outspoken, and can do what i do.

and do it well.

…

ive never dated a woman.

ive always dated girls.

the difference between women and girls isnt age.

nor is it maturity.

the difference isnt even whether or not they’re married and have started a family…

the difference is simply how a woman 'wears' a pair of pants.

i cant describe it.

pants are everything, and they are nothing.

they reveal whether a woman is comfortable with her body(or if she isnt ).

they tell you if she knows what makes her look good (and what doesnt).

they talk to if shes confident enough to flaunt it (or hide it).

they speak to her fashion sense (or lack thereof).

pants may do all of these things, and they may do none of these things.

but one look at a woman wearing a pair of jeans (or a good pant suite) and i just know – either she’s a woman. or she’s a girl.

which is not to judge - because i really really like girls.

…

she’s not incredibly hot, she’s just really really cute.

which, in a way, makes her even hotter in my eyes.

short. petite. brown hair. brown eyes.

occassionally my eyes may go blonde.

occassionally my mind may wander.

but if i had to describe the ‘type’ of girl that i find most attractive, i would probably paint her.

…

i have a huge zit.

it occupies the left side of my face, and part of uzbekistan.

i think the uzbekistani’s want alfred to leave as much as i do.

but alfred is one resilient mofo.

…

im pretty sure that i picked up alfred at the marathon.

when sweat evaporates, it leaves a residue of salt and gunk on your skin.

that’s why your nipples may start to bleed while you run long distances.

at the end of the race, i thought i was hardcore because i had a pound of salt plastered to my face.

at the end of the race i thought i was hardcore, when in fact i was merely a prepubescent teenager with a soon-to-be imaginary pimple named alfred.

go figure.

…

of all the conference tables to sit at, she chose the only one directly across from my cubefarm.

which is a little odd since she doesn’t even work on the same floor as i do.

not that im complaining.

god she’s cute.

i just want to roll her up and stuff her in my back pocket.

i would take her everywhere with me – just like in the BFG.

except it would be my pocket, instead of my ear.

you have to stop and wonder, when you catch yourself pondering the BFG, while staring at the cutest girl in the office.

you have to stop and wonder if you’re either insane, or just a really weird stalker. ha!

...

her back is to me, so its possible that she doesn’t know that im sitting right behind her.

my first thought is that this entirely plausible – i am merely one ant working amongst an entire ant colony.

my second thought (hope) is that this is completely implausible – she’s walked by my desk a million and one times… she’d have to be a total alicia (as in silverstone) to miss me.

sometimes my ego is just THAT big. ha!

i stand up to ponder, consider, and stare.

…

im twenty six years old.

twenty six year old men don’t have to worry about pimples.

twenty six year old boys do.

faaaaaccckkk.

…

having an irritated imaginary person (i.e. a pimple) glued to my face is distracting.

it makes me feel self conscious.

it makes me feel like everyone is staring and restraining peals of laughter.

it makes me want to cover up and hide.

‘oh my god its huge.’

something every guy wants to hear… but not w/ reference to his over active facial pores.

i don’t know how i would ever deal with a life altering deformity.

scalding water splashed on my face.

acid dripped across my cheeks.

a tragic vanilla sky car accident.

social ostracization - either real or self imposed

it makes me want cover up and hide.

…

her back is no longer to me.

she is sitting at the table in deep discussion.

a professional talking with another professional about professional things.

its an early night for me.

alfred and i need to go have a talk.

as i pass by she looks up, smiles and says

…

hello.

*** ill update this post in pieces. check back periodically for new thoughts in motion.

an ode to a girl ***

i like how i heard you before i knew you

i like how you take someone’s shit and dish it right back at them

i like how you loudly declare that you are the hottest girl in the world

i like how this statement is partly bravado and partly the truth

i like how this statement is partly positive reinforcement for your own insecurities (deep down)

i like how everyone knows who you are, way before you know (if ever) who they are

i like how you jump, scream and shout because you need to be the center of attention

i like how this need is really a cover for you concern about not getting any attention at all

i like how you act tough, but are really so fragile, that an errant word could break you

i like how i want to just hold you when you get broken

i like how dangerous it feels to tread near that fine line

i like how you didn’t know my name (at first), but still accepted gifts from me

i like how you didn’t sweat the details

i like how you talk a big game

i like how you joke about everything

i like how your bravado goes in spurts - how you’re always so loud, but sometimes very quiet

i like how im the only one who notices that you’re really most fragile at that quiet moment - at least, until you’re loud again

i like how you would deny ever being fragile

i like how you flaunt your body even though its not perfect

i like how you can do a shimmy that might drive me wild

i like how you lay yourself out as you dive to dig a ball

i like how intense you are about winning the game

i like how you pretend you don’t care

i like how you wear big bug eyed sunglasses

i like how you asked people to pay you a dollar for touching your triathlon medal

i like how you pull together your fashion in ways that is so different every time i see you

i like how you flirt shameless with all the boys

i like how you gave up drinking and smoking all at once

i like how you decided to do a triathlon and a marathon all at once

i like the stories i hear about you

i like how im scared of the stories i hear about you

i like how its so easy to get the wrong impression about you

i like how you called me up for lunch

i like how you talk about all the guys who you know are interested in you

i like how you subtly told me that you weren’t interested in me

i like how everything about you can be an exaggeration

i like how you shoot me the perfect length email

i like how you respond back to me almost immediately

i like how ive evaluated you, but i constantly have to second guess my evaluation

i like how you don’t mind talking about your depression with me

i like how you don’t mind talking about your therapist with me

i like how you’re different from all of my other friends

i like how you don’t have a college degree

i like how you like going back to school

i like how you’re giddy about algebra

i like how you’re such a dork

i like how you’re smarter than most people who did finish school

i like how i think you are the type who could be a best friend for life

i like how i think you are also the type of friend who could self implode at any moment

i like how i think you’re the type of friend who would physically fight someone for hurting a friend of yours

i like how everything is an extreme for you

i like how we are an extreme

i like how we went from you not knowing my name, to us hanging out 4 days in one week

i like how hanging out is an all-day affair

i like how you completely disregard work to hang out

i like how your disregard for work has nothing to do with me

i like how intense you are about everything that you do

i like how you don’t blush when a bike geek suggest rubbing butter cream on your thighs and ass

i like how you would want him to just tell it to you straight

i like laying out on a beach blanket with you

i like making fun of the beach volleyball players with you

i like how you note that we’re both going to hell

i like how you’re not in a hurry to go home when you’re with me

i like how im not in a hurry to go home when im with you

i like how we inevitably hang out, go to dinner, and then go see a movie together

i like how you eat salsa

i like how competitive you are ‘ even when it comes to eating salsa

i like how you can eat an entire bag of movie popcorn

i like how you pour salt onto a napkin and proceed to pour salt from said napkin onto your popcorn until its done

i like how you scraped every last granule of salt from the napkin

i like how you were scared watching shaun of the dead

i like how you show up in the shortest skirt ‘ and have no qualms about showing off your ass

i like how this is an extension of your whole ‘center of attention, lest i be ignored’ thing

i like how you don’t drink alcohol

i like how you don’t drink alcohol until you suddenly do drink alcohol

i like how i think that maybe this decision to drink has something to do with me

i like how this sudden decision to drink probably has nothing to do with me

i like how she seated me right next to you for dinner’ when the rest of the entire table was open

i like how i don’t remember anything we talked about during dinner

i like how you were dancing in front of the band

i like how i danced in front of the band with you

i like how i just took your beer out of your hand and drank it

i like how you didn’t mind

i like how i wanted to go with you to the going away party

i like how i had no ulterior motive for going

i like how you admitted being very drunk and crushing on a particular boy

i like how i was mildly surprised to hear it

i like how i was disappointed, but not hurt

i like how my disappointment was more of an ego thing, than anything related to any feelings for you

i like how it wasn’t a big deal

i like how i could leave the party, and i didn’t have to take care of you

i like how you texted me in the morning about your boy crush

i like how you told me about how he crushed your heart

i like how he didn’t really break your heart, so much as make you feel like a fool

i like how you treated him for making you feel foolish

i like how you ignored me the next day - until i said your name

i like how as soon as i did, you immediately came over, laid on the sand and asked me to make your tummy feel better

i like how i tried to make you feel better

i like how i didn’t want to touch your stomach

i like how we’re both careful about giving off the wrong impression to each other

i like how you took your jeans on and off 10 times because you were cold

i like how you didn’t care about playing beach volleyball in your jeans

i like how you don’t care about showing off your badly bruised legs

i like how you dragged my ass through the sand and got sand down the front and back of my shorts

i like how i helped you do it

i like how you were distracted all day because the boy you liked was standing on the opposite side of the net

i like how you handled having the girl your boy was involved with, also hanging out

i like how you didn’t take the situation out on her

i like how you weren’t catty even when you had the perfect chance to be

i like how you waited till the very end of the day to have your talk

i like how you saved me a spot at dinner, right next to you

i like how you proudly declared that our salsa-off was the most fun you’ve had in a long time

i like how your boy was looking at me when you said this

i like how you’re using me to get back at him

i like how i could care less if you do

i like how you still volunteered to help him move, even though he had treated you badly

i like how you didn’t end up helping him

i like how you invited his girl to come with us to the beach, even though you didn’t want her around

i like how you are naive enough to not realize that this guy played you ‘ hard

i like how you’re comfortable talking about it with me

i like how you’re bitter and hate men

i like how you can still see the greater good in practically everyone

i like how you’re comfortable talking about all the guys you’ve slept with

i like how you’re not self-conscious about admitting how at one point you hadn’t had sex in a year

i like how you have had one-night stands, but still consider yourself a monogamist

i like that you’re a monagmist

i like how you talk about all the boys that like you

i like how you know exactly who and what you want to date

i like how you want to date a runner

i like how you’re willing to date someone who is not what you exactly want

i like how you’ve somehow asked/learned about my past history

i like how you’ve somehow done your homework on me

i like how you asked me questions about my ex girlfriend that you probably already knew the answers to

i like how i didn’t feel the need to find out how or why you had done your homework

i like how i felt comfortable telling you my story

i like how i cleaned my apartment for you

i like how you didn’t mind wearing a pair of my pants to dinner

i like how you laughed at my jokes

i like how you still wanted to hang out some more, and came back to my place to watch a movie

i like how you flinched at every single blow in fight club

i like how the entire couch shook, each time you flinched

i like how you figured the movie out way before the end

i like how i don’t know if we’ll continue to be friends tomorrow (or into the future), but i would like it if we were

***(a cheatin repost from sept 29) in memory of what could have been, and should have been, but never really had a chance to have been.