Monday, February 28, 2011

I have seen The Couch and it was brown

Okay Follies, I’ll be honest.  I started this post after downing three glasses four glasses a bottle of wine and while watching crazy Melissa Leo stoned James Franco the Academy Awards, so I’ll attempt to make sense of what my drunk self was saying.

First, a little background on why I went over to D’s.

I know that earlier this month I saw D and had A Super Bowl of a Realization.  It was freeing to realize that I really was ready and free to move on, and I felt great if a bit conflicted about the whole thing.  But there’s no denying that my relationship with D was healthy, and real, and if he wanted to talk about us, our future, or the breakup, I didn’t want to turn that down.  Once he called, I knew there was a possibility that he wanted to get back together, and if the appropriate changes had taken place then I was open to discussing that with him.

So, I went over to his house to see The Couch.  And truth be told, it’s a very nice couch.  Really is. I mean, I have some nice couches, but I’m a little jealous of his couch.

I'm a couch!

For the first hour of being over there that’s all he could talk about.  The Couch.  Then we watched some NCAA.  He’d watch the game, then talk to me.  Then watch the game, then talk to me.  It was a thrilling hour, let me tell you.  But something happened during that first hour.  Remember how I felt when I was last there? Yeah, that came back, and I realized I just didn’t want to get back together with him.  No matter what he had to say – changes or no – I just wasn’t interested anymore.  I knew that the conversation we’d have later would be that much more awkward, as I’d be basically walking away from him for a second time, and I started to get The Nerves.

Then he played the guitar for me.  He played the song “You’re Beautiful” by James Blunt and I swear to you I almost started CRYING.   

You're beautiful. You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
There must be an angel with a smile on her face,
When she thought up that I should be with you.
But it's time to face the truth,
I will never be with you.

The lyrics, The Nerves, it was just too much.   I couldn’t figure out if he was playing the songs just to play them, or if he was trying to be all sweet and lovey about getting back with me.  But like I said, that wasn’t going to happen. I mean, when your ex-boyfriend plays the guitar for you and all you can think about is, “The Bandleader plays guitar so much better…” then you probably shouldn’t get back together, amirite?

We’re about two hours into the visit now, and neither of us has yet to bring up the real reason I’m there.  Since I felt like he was being a little chicken about talking to me, I decided to have a little fun see how long it’d take him to man up.  I mean, I didn’t have anything to do until the Oscars telecast so why not?

Yes, I’m playing games.  I know it’s bitchy.  Can you blame me, though?

At some point, he and I were sitting next to each other, both of us having something to say.

Okay pause.  Yes, I did come out and say that to him.  It needed to be said, and clearly he wasn’t going to bring it up.  Let’s continue.

Poor guy looked so dejected, but honestly – what relationship was he in for the past YEAR that he thought that was a viable option?  And I’m sure it hurts to have a girl put you into the “Friend Category” like that, but I needed to make things clear.  If we end up being friends that’s fine, but there will be no benefits to this friendship.  That’s not how Folly rolls.

I felt almost euphoric after the meeting, because I felt like I had really and truly moved on.  Plus, I’m excited to see where things go with The Bandleader, and with any other prospective guys out there.  I feel great!

So, in the end, D-Day ended up being totally fine.  In celebration, I may have enjoyed too much wine last night.  And by may, I mean did.  And boy did I regret it this morning.  Although it did make the Oscars that much more enjoyable. And let's be honest, that Oscars telecast needed something.  For me, that something was, apparently, Red Red Wine.

Lyrics by James Blunt, song "You're Beautiful"

Saturday, February 26, 2011

!!! Hell Week !!!

Follies, this has been a very stressful week.  I never had a Hell Week in school, despite being a sorority girl. We didn’t do stuff like that (I know, you don’t believe me. But you should. Because we were straight up AWESOME.)  This week, at work and in life, was the closest I’ve ever been to experiencing a true Hell Week.  I work in a job where I rarely have to take work home with me – the last time I did that, it was over Super Bowl weekend 2009 and I only had to spend an hour on the document.  So we’re not talking about hard stuff, and that’s part of the issue I’ve had with my job lately.  I’m not challenged.  I’ve been here more than two years and I’ve reached the point where I (mostly) know what I’m doing.

So this week a project came up at work that sort of terrified me and sort of intrigued me: Writing a legal memo.  I won’t go into too many details, but suffice it to say that this project I took on? Usually done by LAWYERS.  Lawyers with LAW DEGREES.  Law degrees that I DON’T HAVE.*

It was exhilarating! It was challenging! It was the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done at work! Two nights this week I brought home research and documents, spending hours each night making sure that I had all the appropriate documents (I didn’t), I’d self-edited and made sure it was formatted correctly (I mostly did), and I did not have an inappropriate TONE within the document (Follies, I always have a tone).

The director of my office was well aware of my involvement in this project, so I knew it had to be good.  And the director is not my boss – he’s the boss of the ENTIRE OFFICE.

Angry Folly can double as Stressed Folly
You guys, this was hard.  Super hard.  I’m pretty sure I wasn’t eating this week, and Trevor didn’t know whether to be more pissed at the stress or the lack of food in him, and then Follies, THEN –

D decides to pick this week to come back around and invite me over.

What the FUCK.  If Trevor wasn’t fucking pissed before, he was straight up livid at me now. (I’m sorry, Trevor, I couldn’t help it. You’d think my stomach would understand these things.)  I’m surprised I got any work done Tuesday after D called (oh, wait, I didn’t. Nevermind.)

Remember, on V-day, when D said to be, on the bus, that he’d give me a call sometime? Well, he gave me a call.  D wants me to come over and see his new couch.  He bought a new couch.  He wants me to see it.  And do you know how badly I wanted that to be a euphemism?  A euphemism would make more sense.  It would be, I dunno, borderline expected.  But it’s not.  He actually invited me to come over and see a new piece of furniture.


Somehow, and gee golly, I don’t know where this is coming from, I get the feeling that he doesn’t JUST want me to see the couch.  </sarcasm>

Anyhoo, despite it possibly being a really bad idea…I’m going over tomorrow to “see” the “Couch”.  I’m trying not to have too many expectations around what may or may not happen on Sunday, but I’m going to go over, see the couch, and we’ll go from there. 

I’ve overthought, rethought, thought, analyzed, reanalyzed, and overanalyzed just about every angle of the situation, and I’ve decided this is an okay thing to do. 

But I do feel like, in addition to having a Hell Week, my life has become a SitCom.  Guys chicken out in asking for numbers (let’s all be The Count now: Two! Two guys!); past guys come out of the woodwork to show me their actual, real, honest-to-honest furniture; and OH, my job got cray-cray.

*another sigh*

Today, I had planned on cleaning.  Just staying home, cleaning up, and taking care of myself after this week.  But no.

Eff. That.

I’m going shoe shopping, and I’m going to find a Blockbuster that’s going out of business, and maybe even a Borders too, and then I’m stopping by the liquor store for WINE. 

Because Follies, I think that, after a week of abstaining from the fermented grape juice, I DESERVE some wine.


*Just to reassure everyone, the subject matter of the legal memo was within the realm of my job and I had an attorney mentor for the project.  And our director is an attorney.  I am not an attorney and cannot provide legal advice.  The memos in our office are just usually written by attorneys.   And my attorney mentor made a big deal about the person who requested the memo, hence added stress. Please don’t accuse me of breaking the law.  I am the law.

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

The Non-date with The Bandleader *swoon*

Oh, Follies, I had a wonderful Friday night with The Bandleader.  I really can't remember when I had so much fun with a guy.  I mean no disrespect to my relationship with D, but it's just so different when you've just met someone and you're getting to know that person and you have an amazing night.  There was dancing and drinking and hugging, and it was just a great night all around.  I mean, it had to be a great night when I'm still in a good mood about in on a Monday morning when half the country doesn't have to go to work and I do.

The night started out fine enough.  I got in to the show with my half-priced ticket and immediately found my coworker.  We grabbed drinks, we sat down, and listened to the preceding band.  The Bandleader walked up and seemed surprised and happy to see me there - always a plus when you see a guy's face light up when he looks at you.  We didn't talk much before the show since he was getting ready with the band, but that's to be expected.

Once the show started, our group made our way to the dance floor.  The band was great! I was so happy I liked the band, because I'd hate to have to lie to The Bandleader and be all like, "Your band is sooooo great" when I really think it sucks. But. It was great.

I'd post pics of the show, except for the whole, you know, "anonymous blog" thing.

After the show he came over to the table, and we drank beers and hung out.  The band was making a YouTube video, so they were filming random band shenanigans.  When the camera was put on The Bandleader, he pulled the old middle school trick of pretending to make out with someone by putting his arms around himself, back to the camera.  He turned around, acted as if he'd been caught in the act, then out of nowhere grabbed me and dipped me, off the bar stool, and pretended to make out with me.

(When I told my parents that part of the story, my father said under his breath, "Well, that's one way to be cute about it.")

Later, while The Bandleader was speaking to other friends who had came to the show, our entire group (read: everyone I had just met and knew before the show) decided to suddenly get up and leave.  Mass exodus style.  Talk about being a little awkward.

The tunic was new. I love new clothes.
The Bandleader came over and asked, "Where'd everyone go?"  According to a few of my friends, this indicates that the Mass Exodus was PLANNED.  I'm a little dense and didn't pick up on that until after my friends pointed it out, but whatever.  That's me for you.

We attempted our get-to-know-yous while the last band played, but I don't know if you've ever been to a concert before - it's LOUD.  I couldn't hear a damn thing he was saying half the time! But I heard him ask, "do you want to dance?"

I said yes;  he seemed surprised.  And we danced.  We were the only ones on the dance floor and we danced danced danced.  It was great.  It was fun.  I love dancing.  People applauded.  And cheered. Okay granted, they were The Bandleader's friends.  But still.

At the end of the night he drove me to my car so I didn't have to walk the few blocks from the venue.

This does not properly illustrate how much taller he is than I am.
FOLLIES.  He did not ask for my number again. AGAIN. I mean, the first time, at that first show, sure. I can forgive that. We'd just met. We'd been set up. We didn't have much time. This time? We had time alone. We'd been left alone most likely on purpose. And still? No asking of my number.

I should point out here that one of my other coworkers came to the show and brought his roommate, who hit on me the whole beginning of the night and ALSO didn't ask for my number.  I mean sure, I wasn't set him with The Roommate, and maybe he doesn't matter, but STILL. That makes two guys IN ONE NIGHT who didn't ask for my number.


He gave me another half-priced ticket to their next show and asked me multiple times to come out to it (and I will), but I would love to get to know him outside of band shows.

But ultimately I had an amazing night. Mmmm. Dancing, cute guys, fun times . . . can next weekend be just as great?? I don't want to wait another month :)

Friday, February 18, 2011

The OkCupid Debacle of 2010

Image: Salvatore Vuono /
More than a year ago, I unintentionally started an account at OkCupid.

Yes, unintentionally.  Let me explain.  I created an account to take the tests one night after a few glasses of wine and a night of boredom, and I was only vaguely familiar with the site.  In my slightly drunken haze, I'd remembered the site from a few years back when you could take a few of the tests without having a dating profile on the site.  At the time, this site was the now defunct TheSpark, which had a separate site for quizzes and in 2004 became popular for their matching via quizzes/questions (now known as OkCupid).  I hadn't been on the site since TheSpark was up and running, and I wasn't fully aware (and, as mentioned before, slightly tipsy) that the site was solely for matching and dating.  Shortly after creating the profile, I realized it was a dating profile and that scared me a bit.  I'd never seriously considered online dating before, and I wasn't sure if I was ready to take that step.  Did I want to date online?  And how do I fill out those pesky questions - What was I looking for? Something interesting about myself? I don't know how to answer those things!

But I did it.  I dipped my feet into the water and I thought I was ready to jump (maybe). So I uploaded a photo, filled out a profile, and started poking around the site, figuring out how it works.

That's when he found me.


Atticus was my first boyfriend ever. He was older - much older - than I, and it was, in short, a very unhealthy relationship that naturally did not end well.  I do not have fond memories of that time in my life, at all.  I really don't.

But you see, on OkCupid, you can see who's viewing your profile. And I could see he was viewing my profile. And that made me uncomfortable.  What also made me uncomfortable was that OkCupid said we were an 85% match! We were WHAT?? Didn't they know that he wasn't a nice guy? That he didn't treat me the way I deserved to be treated? DIDN'T THEY KNOW?? (It's okay, I know they didn't know this, Follies.  I know how these sites work. Roll with me here.)

I freaked.  I looked at his profile.  My heart started beating faster and faster, and I could feel my blood pressure start to rise.  What if he winked at me? What if he messaged me? None of this would be okay by me. Follies, you don't understand.  There are things about the relationship between Atticus and I that were beyond not good.  I never should have been with him, he never should have been with me.  I don't talk about these things. They are unhappy things.

So that night, within a few hours of creating the profile, I deleted the account.

Let's fast-forward to the here and now, more than a year later.  I hear good things about OkCupid.  From what I remember, it's fairly easy to use.  There are a lot of varied users, and it's free.  This last part is key because any paid site is out for me.  It feels funny to pay for a matchmaking website, and I don't have the money for that anyway.  I'd be willing to give OkCupid another chance.

But I'm totally freaked that Atticus is still on there and will find me again.  One of you wonderful follies suggested I block him, and for that I thank you, because apparently in my freaked-out-ness I didn't think of that possibility. But that's why, dear follies, I haven't yet jumped back into OkCupid.

And now, it's time to prep for The Bandleader.  I've picked out my outfit, I know how I'll wear my hair, and I am READY TO GO!!!!

Full report after the weekend :)

Much love,

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

I Need A Vacay: or, how I had a panic attack at work today

This? Almost burned down my apartment.
Oh good heavens, follies (yeah, you have a nickname now, readers; you are my follies).  I've stressed myself out so much in the past week that my body is revolting against me. I'll spare you the unnecessary details, but suffice it to say that I. Need. A. Holiday.

I knew I was feeling a little stressed, but I didn't think it had elevated to it's current level. We're at, like, DEFCON 5 - HIGH STRESS ALERT here. And it comes in horrible waves. Panic attack waves. Panic attack waves the likes of which I haven't seen in over 5 years. YEARS.  During my lunch-time walk around the neighborhood to de-stress I started crying over my stressors, and as I approached my building my chest got tight, I started crying again, and I had to loop around the block before I could go back to work. NOT NORMAL, PEOPLE.

I'm starting to wish Friend hadn't bothered to tell me how disappointed he is in D and how he wished we hadn't split up. It's just brought up so many emotions that I didn't want to feel again and that I thought I was done with feeling.  Plus, now instead of not thinking of D and just moving on with my life, I find myself thinking of him in positive/negative waves.  But none of my emotions feel real anymore. If I feel positively for D it's because all the emotions I had for him have resurfaced, and if I feel negatively it's because I'm beyond stressed and seeing red at everything and everyone.  Everything I feel just feels...FAKE.

On top of that, we have more budget cuts coming at work that are expected to again cut into my take-home pay. So, in the slightly-more-than-two years I've been here, I've received at least two decreases in pay.  I started at the entry-level salary, so while I bring home enough to pay the bills, I can't afford much beyond that.  That also means that any seemingly minor decrease - even of only 1% or 2% - makes a noticeable dent in my pay, so I'm less than thrilled about these most recent cuts. Unlike most people in my office, I don't have a roommate or spouse to help pay for groceries and mortgages and offer that moral support.

And on top of THAT, I'll be seeing The Bandleader on Friday night, which has my nerves all a-twitter.  I'm terrified that if I like him (and, thusly, he likes me) that I won't be feeling Real Feelings but only Rebound Feelings.  I don't think I even know what Rebound Feelings feel like.  And what if I don't like his band?

I'm so stressed I'm not eating.  Case in point - it took me over two hours today to finish two normal-sized slices of pizza for lunch. And - AND - I'm not drinking wine.

Yeah, follies, it's that bad.  I can't stomach the thought of alcohol.

I don't even know what to do at this point to relieve my stress. I don't have money for a massage (see that second point about money), I don't have time off for a vacation until May, and I can't even finish a glass of wine. OH, and I almost burned down my apartment trying to bake a heart-shaped pizza for myself Monday night.

Now my apartment smells like melted cardboard and burnt pizza.

AND (because misery loves company so I might as well keep going, right?) I no longer feel like getting into online dating is a good option for me because a) I don't have the money for a paid site, and for various reasons don't like certain free sites and b) Apparently people from try to kill you.

Okay, I jest about that last point.  Obviously that guy is the exception and not the rule, right? (...RIGHT?)

But seriously follies, SERIOUSLY.  I need some de-stressing tips.  Because Panic Attacks? Really? Not cool.  Make them stop.

Okay follies, we've had success on one front.  Tonight I'm able to stomach wine again.  There is hope for me after all.

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Another Celebrity Crush

This one goes out to Cooks for One:

James Franco. Yummy. I think #3 is my favorite...

Credit to for the pictures

Thursday, February 10, 2011

The Interesting Encounter

I was all set to debut a new feature on the blog called Blast from the Past, where I'll detail interesting and often-bad dates and encounters in my past. I had it all planned out. I had a post ready. It was ready for LAUNCH.

Then Monday morning came around, and I was (very) hungover and this week got off to a (very) slow start. And that same Monday morning when I was hungover and sick and just really not feeling like myself, I of course ran into D and one of his friends (who is hereafter referred to simply as Friend). Just my luck.

Friend sat next to me, and D sat in front of us, and we all had a decent, friendly conversation. At one point, Friend made a rather cutting remark to D about riding bikes that basically boiled down to his saying I had more guts than D when it came to certain physical activities.

Now, I don't know if I've detailed the breakup enough to mention this, but one of the "main reasons" for our split - according to D - was that I don't ride a bike.

This morning, I again ran into Friend. This time, D was not around, and Friend started asking me about D.  He asked if I thought he was pretty tough on D with that biking jab and I said that yeah, actually, he was pretty tough on him.

And he expressed remorse, and said he was teasing and certainly didn't intend to be mean. And I asked if D said something about it, and apparently D was very hurt after Monday's confrontation.  Friend tried to apologize, but he said "D was upset, and didn't really hear the apology." So now D isn't really talking to Friend.

But THEN (oh, there's more) Friend said, "So, you picked up your things."
Folly: "Yes."
Friend: "So, it's really over."
Folly: "Yes."
Friend: "Done."
I nodded my head. And he expressed his displeasure and said he was not happy we split up. And he asked again, "So it's done. It's over."
And I said, "Yeah, it is."
And he said, "Well. It's a shame. It really is."

And I wanted so badly to tell him, "Oh, you know Friend, it's funny D's so butt-sore about Monday's jab because he said something SIMILAR to ME when we split up! HaHaHa!" But I didn't.  I didn't want to start anything or share any relationship info that might be awkward for D and his friends in the long run.

And I have to say, it's so nice to hear that in all of this relationship drama, one of D's friends was in my corner the whole time.  It really is.  It sort of affirms that I didn't screw this up.  I mean, granted, I never really figured that I was the one who screwed up the relationship, but it does feel good.

BUT -  it still leaves me feeling conflicted. Very conflicted. I still don't feel any strong urge to want D back. But at the same time, the thought keeps crossing my mind more. And I'm a little happy/amused to see that things concerning me still affect D, but I'm a little concerned that he's not doing well. Overall, I don't know how to feel, and it's making me uncomfortable.

I think that whatever I'm feeling is normal.  I'm not worried about it.  And I'm still excited to see The Bandleader next weekend and go out with my Single Ladies tomorrow night.  And I plan to have an amazing Valentine's Day complete with wine, pizza, movies, and PJs.  But this is an interesting speed bump on the road to Acceptance.

Sunday, February 6, 2011

A Super Bowl of a realization

Yesterday, while running errands and finishing prep-work for my "Big Game" party today, I had to make a very important trip.

I went over to D's.

He still had a few of my things that I had completely forgotten about, and I wanted to go ahead and pick those up while I was thinking of them.  So this week I called, we set up a time for me to come over, and I went over there. And he's such a sweet guy. Genuinely nice, and maybe one day we can actually be friends instead of just being friendly when we see each other. But something happened while I was there. I looked into his eyes while we were talking, and I realized:

I no longer have feelings for him.  I couldn't see myself going back to him, I couldn't see us together, and I just kept thinking about all the guys I've met in the last two weeks. I realized, at this point, that the breakup really was for the best.  Really felt like it was the right decision instead of just telling myself that.

I think this is a huge step. I'm so beyond happy to have finally reached this point that, way back at the beginning of the breakup, I felt would never really happen.

So bring on the dates...and the FOOTBALL!

I'd love to see the Packers win, but if I were a betting woman (and I'm not) my money would be on the Steelers by 10 points.