Men Be Actin' Crazy Up In Here

Monday morning, I saw Mr. Andy Griffith.  I see him often, as I grab my early-morning coffee, but Monday morning was different.  He asked me to have a seat with him for a while.  I sat to chat, but I felt mildly uncomfortable.  This changed up my whole morning.  Usually, I get into work about 20 minutes early, with the office to myself, and eat breakfast and drink coffee.  I get time alone to wake up, destress from the morning commute, and prep for the day.  But instead I was with Mr. Andy Griffith who, as it turns out, is rather talkative in the morning.

And Monday morning, he talked an awful lot - mostly about his son.  Who is a firefighter.  And who just happened to be coming to meet his dad for coffee on Wednesday morning.

Which, naturally, meant I should be sure to show my face at my coffee place on Wednesday morning.

So I did.  I figured it couldn't be a bad idea, right? I wasn't changing my routine for anyone, and why should I consciously pass up the opportunity to meet a single firefighter? This morning I waltzed into the coffee shop for my coffee, a smile on my face, eyes bright -- no small feat after being out all night at a concert.  (I'm an old lady, I just can't do that on a work night anymore!)

I purchased my coffee cup.

I filled my cup with coffee.

I turned to Mr. Andy Griffith. There was no Firefighter.  He asked me to sit with him, and I did, but I was clear that I could only stay for a few minutes.  He told me how much he had missed me when I didn't get my coffee yesterday.  Even before I met Mr. Andy Griffith, I did not visit the shop every day.  I can't afford to buy coffee every day.  But now, if I don't go in every morning, he tells me in an old, creepy way how much he misses me.

We chatted for a bit.  He talked about politics (not an okay topic, when he doesn't know me) and I politely excused myself after a few minutes so I could get to work on time.  He took my hand in both of his to say goodbye - a slightly old-fashioned but not necessarily inappropriate gesture - and held it tightly. Very tightly.  And he wouldn't let go. 

And Folly's stomach got that feeling, you know, the Gut, if you will, that maybe I don't like Mr. Andy Griffith so much anymore.  I wasn't sure how to feel about him the past week, when he started talking to me more and more, but sometimes Folly can be a mean little bitch, and he seemed like such a nice old man.

Well, Folly no longer cares if she's a mean little bitch because The Gut is raring in full force, and Mr. Andy Griffith is giving me the willies.  Follies, if you have some advice on how to excise the talkative Mr. Andy Griffith from my morning coffee run, please let me know.  I don't want to give up my coffee place, but I dread the thought of telling an old man that he's crossed a creepy-line, when he may or may not even know it.  I don't know, Follies, I don't know.  I just know my Gut is really fired up about this guy.


____


In other news, Coworker talked to me today about The Bandleader.  Turns out he's been pining over a girl for over a YEAR now, and they started dating at about the time Coworker introduced us, but she didn't know about the girl until recently.  So.  I was correct in trusting my gut and not contacting him.  He sounds like a repeat of D, and I don't need that!

Matchmaker Matchmaker Make Me a Match

I wanted to draw you, my follies, a wonderful comic of the scene I'm about to portray for you.  I haven't had a comic on here for a while and I think you deserve one.  You really do. 

But you won't be getting one.  Because, well, Folly's a little busy right now.  And this post needs to go up today or it will lose it's appeal.  So enjoy, and I promise future comics of Folly's follies.

There is something to be said for professional matchmakers.  I've already pointed out how open I am to being set up with friends, friends of friends, etc. I'm comfortable with blind dates, I don't mind, but I do have an expectation that people who decide to set me up with guys they know have experience in amateur matchmaking and can make appropriate comments to encourage interest in either party.

I've already covered the slightly-botched matchmaking involved with The Bandleader.  Now let's cover the initial matchmaking attempt that happened last night.

Picture it: A bookclub meeting, 2011 (I'm channeling my inner Sophia Petrillo).  I sat on the comfy couch at my bookclub meeting next to a fellow bookclubber I haven't seen in a while.  As we chatted, The Bookclubber came up and sat next to me on the other side.  The following conversation ensued:

Bookclubber: "Sooooooo Folly, there's this guy at my work who's really cute."

Me: "Uh-huh..."

Bookclubber: "And he's asked me out, but I have a boyfriend, obviously, but he's really cute and I think you guys would get along!"

Me: "...Uh-huh..."

Bookclubber: "So yeah, I work with him--"

Other person: "Ooooo so he's really smart!" (bookclubber is in a science-y field. So -- she's got smarts)

Bookclubber: "Yeah! He's in Sales."

Me: "Okay."

Bookclubber: "He's really into his job."

"He's really into his job." <--what???  Is this good?  Does he have a social life?  Is he just ambitious?  Is he just a workaholic?  In the words of Double-rainbow Guy, "What does it mean?

Then,

Bookclubber: "He's Hispanic."

Me: "...okay."

Bookclubber: "Second generation.  He was born here."

Me: "Okay."

Bookclubber: "He's 26."
Me: "That's a good age for me."

Bookclubber: "Yeah!"

Aaaaaaaaand that was it.  I don't know if she was trying to determine my stance on immigration, or see if I have issues with dating outside my race, but it all just come off as....odd.  I mean listen, I've set my stance before that I am super okay and cool with setups, but I feel like she's overselling him to me.  I'm confused.  I don't get it.  I don't even know what, if anything, is going to happen.

All I know is that I have a chance at a free dinner here (and I never thought I'd be that girl who says that!).  And even if everything goes array, I'll have a great blog post eh? EH?

Eh.

Updates, Andy Griffith, and a Picture of My Feet

Folly gets angry when she sets up expectations for men and they neglect to reach them.  Even if those expectations are normal expectations for a 30-year-old like being a man, having some cajones, and asking for her number, Folly still gets angry.

And an angry Folly leads to an angry blog post, so I apologize, dear follies, that my last post regarding The Bandleader not asking for my number came off a little...angry.

Don't try to tell me it didn't, or that I was justified.  It was an angry post.  I could tell.  And for the most part that anger was unintentional.

I just don't understand why a thirty-year old man is too much of a pansy-chicken to ask for my number.  Sure, I could ignore his body language and say he's not interested.  That's no biggie.  Sometime setups just don't work out.  Fine.  But I don't think that's the case.  The Negative Nancy inside me thinks he's a bit of a playboy - not an unrealistic assumption for the leader of a rock band, yeah?  The Positive Polly thinks he's just being a pansy-chicken.  Nancy and Polly don't always get along.

But I post this because a) I apologize if I seemed mildly psychotic about having a crush on a boy (I swear I'm not 16 and Crazy - although that could be a fun show...MTV call me!) and b) because something happened yesterday morning that made me smile and needs to be shared.

Every morning, or nearly every morning, I stop by the Panera next to my office for coffee.  There is often an older man who resembles Andy Griffith sitting in a window seat, eating his breakfast.  Yesterday morning, as I filled my cup with a delicious dark roast and listened to Arcade Fire in my headphones (GENIUS album, btw), Mr. Andy Griffith approached the coffee and, while filling his cup greeted me with a sweet smile.  He commented that he sees me every morning and has wanted to wave or say hello for some time, then asked me where I work.  I told him, and we chatted for a bit.  Then he told me to have a good day, and he went back to his seat.

I left in a great mood, and thought to myself that men today could take a lesson in etiquette and talking to girls from that man.  He was polite, he was kind, and I doubt he had any expectations of getting a date with me.  That didn't stop him from talking to a pretty girl.

I don't encounter this often with men today.  Sure, you could say that Mr. Andy Griffith here had a different motive than any other guy I may encounter, but honestly, why should that matter? The point here is that Mr. Griffith was polite and complimentary.  When a guy who is actually polite does approach me (see here: Bandleader, The), they stop just short of being complimentary (unless calling me "Out of this world" on the fly counts??) and chicken out. 

Maybe Mr. Andy Griffith has had enough life experience to be so forward.  Maybe he's just of a different generation.  But he didn't have to have a conversation with me while we both filled up our coffee cups.  He could have simply nodded hello and gone back to his seat.  Instead, he spent a few extra moments talking to me about the day, my job, and how he's noticed me before.

I don't think it's too much to ask that men today take a lesson from previous generations and just be open to having a conversation with a girl.  MAN UP! Take a chance.  Talk.  And SMILE!

----------------------------

Mom asked me this past weekend if I'd consider online dating, and that perhaps I should consider online dating.  I explained that I just don't have the money right now to use a site that I trust.  It's aggravating because I'd like to get into online dating (or, rather, I feel like I need to be open to online dating) but the timing just doesn't seem to be working out right now.  I know I want to be in a relationship and dating someone and whatnot, but I just can't justify another monthly expenditure with my budget and work issues right now. ARGH.

In related news, I'm always open for blind dates and setups, so if you've got a guy who's looking for a lady... ;)

----------------------------

Also, I apologize for subjecting you to my ugly, unpedicured feet in the Saturday night post.  Here's a pic where I've pedicured them, sans fake bruise.

Does this pose make my feet look fat?

--------------------------

Last update!  I've received some mixed messages from fellow friends on how to proceed with The Bandleader.  The responses were overwhelmingly for me contacting him and asking him out, which is, as we've been over, not really a me thing to do.  Then today I spoke with another coworker about The Bandleader.  She heard the story and said, "Hm, sounds like he's trouble." Then I sent her a pic of The Bandleader (it was a slow afternoon) and she said, "Yeah, Folly, he totally looks like trouble". 

I've decided I'm just gonna go with my gut on this one.  My boss told me I read too many articles on dating and flirting (which I try to avoid doing at work, oops!) and that I'd be perfectly fine on my own, without the advice.  So, maybe I should try it.  Maybe I should just try listening to myself and doing what I think is best, not what other people, or articles, or "experts" think is best.

So Follies - will I be contacting The Bandleader? Will I be inviting him to have some coffee with me, away from a concert?  Ahhhhh.....


No :)

It's Seven o'clock and I Wanna Rock!

I was ready.   I had my outfit set.  I had my makeup perfected.  My hair was straightened.

I was READY. 

If I were willing to show you my face, you'd see my AWESOME makeup.  But I'm not, so you'll just have to believe me.

I drove down there.

I parked.

I walked a block to the venue.

I had my ID ready, half-priced ticket in hand.

I entered.

I ordered a drink at the bar.

I was READY!

Because it's impossible for me to be late anywhere, I was there in time to catch the very first opening band.  They were okay.  I enjoyed my drink and surveyed the crowd to see if I knew anyone.  No one yet, but I was early.  I had time.

After the first band, as they were switching to the second, I saw the Guitarist pass by, and he seemed excited to see me, and he pulled me aside to stand with his wife, Coworker, and other friends and band mates.

Here's where the nerves started to set in.

After a while The Bandleader came by.  I smiled and waved at him, and he came over.  I saw his eyes light up when he saw me and he gave me a big hug and told me how great it was to see me. 

Things were boding well for the evening.

Of course, the band was running around close to the show so I hung out with Coworker and her Friends, one of whom was a Brit.  Brit's Wife and I got stuck in a conversation her Brit had with another Brit we met last night.  They discussed where in England they each were from, and their thoughts on Scotland and Bath and she and I were a little lost. 

Okay, maybe his wife didn't feel as lost as I did, but I had no idea what they were talking about.  I mean sure, I've been to Bath, and I LOVE me some Scotland, but once they got into which town is more upper-class and lower-class I really got lost.  But the new Brit who walked up (the unmarried one) reminded me of the lead guy in the movie "Across the Universe", both for looks and his explanation of why he's in the U.S., so that was fun.  I just imagined him jumping on stage with the band and singing Beatles tunes.

Aaaaaaand finally the band was on!! We made our way to the front and danced to the tunes.  The Bandleader had made a comment about how he feels he's not giving a good show if even one person isn't smiling, so I made sure to smile and dance. 

Then these two girls came, late in the show, one of whom sang with the band during their last show (and, on the first night I met The Bandleader, she gave me a dirty look for flirting with him, so I don't think she likes me). 

They were maybe a little drunk and dancing like crazy, and they kept stepping backward into me.  And then – She Stepped On Me.  With her high-heeled boot.  OUCH!

I really need to do something about those toenails...

Coworker's sister laughed, and she grabbed my shoulders and moved me away from the crazy boot lady.  We all had a good laugh after the show – both at the crazy dancing AND how jealous the crazy boot lady was that she didn't get to the sing with the band this time (and oh follies, she was jealous).

As we were hanging out, The Bandleader walked over and I made sure to give him a big smile and two thumbs up for the show.  He walked over closer and we started talking.  At one point he leaned in his face within an inch of my face, and my heart skipped a beat.  I leaned toward him as well.  It was wonderful.  He talked to Brit and Brit's Wife, and the entire time he spoke to them his body remained toward me.  Even his feet pointed toward me the whole time, which I've been assured and reassured is a sure-fire sign that he's into me.

Until the new lady-singer in the band walked up, and then his body language was all toward her. 

Now, just to tell you all what's going on at this point, people are leaving the club.  It's past midnight, people are leaving, and I came alone so I could get my flirt on, and now he and everyone else are nowhere to be found (well, I could have found The Bandleader.  I knew where he was.  He was out back, carrying band stuff to the car, with the lady-singer, so I wasn't exactly going to search him out.)  Even if I had good vibes up to this point, I'm not sure how to feel.  I'm alone, I can't find Coworker, the Brit and his wife have left, and I don't know what to do with myself.  I'm borderline annoyed, because while I'd love to stay and flirt and hang out, I'm feeling mildly disrespected since everyone has just walked away from me.  I don't know where they are.  I look around, and I finally see a few people I know toward the front, on the front patio to the venue, so I walk over there.

I didn't have any intention of leaving just yet, since I found the group of friends, but mostly I wasn't going to leave yet because I at least wanted to say goodbye to The Bandleader.  It seemed like the right thing to do.  Everyone is hugging and saying goodbye, and I think everyone assumed I was leaving too since I walked to the patio.  I stalled them from saying goodbye to me long enough to see The Bandleader walking up from his car to the patio.  I looked at him, and he looked at me.  There were smiles.  Coworker and her hubs said goodbye to me and gave me hugs, and then The Bandleader and I were all alone on the patio.

Him: "You're out?"
Me: "I'm out!"
Him: "Hmmm, you're out of...........out of...................I got nothing."
Me: "What? You, nothing? But here I am expecting you say something witty!" (something like this, I was trying to tease and flirt)
Him: "I can only think of negatives.....Ah! Got it. You're...OUT OF THIS WORLD!"
Me: laughs and smiles
Him: "You are!" he gave me a big hug "Thanks so much for coming tonight! I'll see you later!"  And he walked away into the venue.

FOLLIES.  Do you see what is missing in that convo? He did not ask for my number.  He did not even invite me to a future show.  What The Fuck?  I read his body language.  I flirted.  I leaned toward him when he leaned toward me.  And this is it? THIS is how it fucking ends?

So. That’s that.  The crush has been crushed.  I'll attend future shows because shows are fun and the band is great, and aw heck, I'll flirt with him in the future, but it's clear to me that this isn't going anywhere.

Angry Don King Folly is BACK!

My brother says that when things go well and he has no end-game, then it's possible that I'm doing something wrong.  That I'm giving off a negative vibe to him.  Well - I don't think so.  I think I gave off enough positive vibes throughout and toward the end that this isn't on me.

GRRR. I need Wine!!!



**Update**
Wine has been acquired.  Commence lazy afternoon doing nothing. 

Third Time's the Charm! Or...is it?

Non-date number three is this weekend, Follies, and this is a Do or Die moment in the non-romance between The Bandleader and me.  We've met, we've chatted and hung out, we've danced the night away, and now he needs to ask for my number.  Detractors can make their claims like "Ohhhhh, don't be a pansy, YOU should ask for HIS number!" but no. I will not ask for his number.  My brother says that I may have to suck it up and do it, that it would make for a wonderful story down the road for our children a lá "your father was too chicken to ask me out" but again I say NO.  Now let me be clear, I have nothing against making a move on a guy in theory, and I often enjoy visiting known Cougar Dens to watch the older women put the moves on the hot young men.  But you see, Follies, I have asked guys out before.

It has never ended well.

It has never ended well because every time -- EVERY. TIME. -- I have ever asked a guy out they've stopped talking to me.  Completely stop talking to me.  In high school, in college, didn't matter.  I wish I could say I'm making this up or I'm exaggerating the truth but I'm not.  Literally every time I've asked a guy out they've completely cut off contact.

It's weird.

Add to that weirdness the various conversations I've had with guys since college, where nearly every guy says that a girl asking them out is forward and great but ultimately they don't like it and are actually slightly TURNED OFF by it, and suddenly I think, "Why the fuck am I putting myself out there when they don't even like it?"

Because of all this, I've reached the point where I just say "Screw It!" and I let the guys come to me.  I am a princess (sayeth my brother).  I am an apple at the top of the tree that is waiting to be picked by the right guy (sayeth this quote).  I do not simply stand in a corner and wait for guys to physically come to me.  I flirt to the best of my ability and I go out, and I make sure to enjoy myself no matter what I'm doing.  Guys talk to me.  I get attention.  At some point, guys just need to grow a friggin' ballsack and ask me out.  And if they don't ask me out after multiple interactions, I can only assume they're not actually interested.

SO.  Saturday Night.  8pm.  His band will play.  I will dance.

And, I say hopefully, I will discover if The Bandleader is interested in Folly, or if he's just being polite for the sake of his friend's wife.

It's go time.

How do you know if your gut is your Gut?

Like many teenage girls, I suffered from a terrible affliction known as the Low Self-esteem Dragon during my formative years.  If a guy looked at me, surely it was because I was an ugly, pimply teenager who had some pudge and not because I was a cute, blonde tennis player.  I was convinced I was not only fat and chunky, but that I would be fat and chunky FOREVER.  And anytime I felt that Dragon rear its ugly, scaly head, I was convinced that it was my Gut telling me the clear and present Truth of a given situation.

I wish my internal Dragon was this cute

For example, the varsity football player who flirted with me on the back staircase Junior year? Obviously he was just teasing and making fun of such an ugly kid. Gut = Truth.

Then I got older, and wiser, and realized that It Gets Better.  I happen to think I'm pretty frickin' gorgeous and awesome.  I'm better (but still not great) at flirting and decoding flirting, and I realize that you know what? Occasionally my Low Self-esteem Dragon rears it's head and that's okay.  We all have days where we don't feel good enough, or smart enough, or like anyone cares about us.  I'm human, and I'm a female human, and shitty moods happen.  But there's one thing I'm not all that great at just yet, and that is reading my Gut.

Because sometimes, and especially when it comes to matters involving the male species, I don't know whether the little voice in my head is my Dragon or my Gut.  I'd like to think I have an amazing Gut (Trevor notwithstanding. That gut is a problem child.) but sometimes I just don't know when to trust it.  If I listen to it, am I avoiding a pointless/dangerous situation (Gut)? Or am I giving up because I think I'm not worth it (Dragon)?

Most recently, I can't decide how to feel about the progress (or lack thereof) with The Bandleader.  It's hard when we only see each other once a month, and it's especially hard when he DOESN'T ask for my NUMBER at the end of the NIGHT.  It's hard because there's a middle-lady who I work with, but don't hang out with, that's trying to act as a go-between.  And what's even harder about THAT is that she and I have different views about how this setting-people-up thing works.  But that's neither here nor there (or is it?) because...

...I have this feeling about our budding (or not-so-budding) romance.  That it's not going anywhere.  That it never will go anywhere.  That it's pointless and hopeless and I should just get over my stupid little crush.

Obviously he and I had some chemistry on the dance floor.  And I think there's no denying there was an attraction (I had no problem reading that Gut reaction after our non-date).  And clearly he had a great time with me, as the subsequent conversations with Coworker and others showed. But. Butbutbutbutbut.

I don't know if my Gut is letting me know that this little crush is nothing more than a fun flame, or if my Low Self-esteem Dragon is making it's comeback as a fake gut.  Do I really feel like it's going nowhere, or am I convinced because of the time between shows and lack of other suitors that I'm not worthy, or that I'll never catch his eye, or there's too many other ladies interested in a guy who's *swoon* in a band?

I can't tell.  I really can't.  The only thing I'm sure of is that things stall out if there's too much time between events, and I don't doubt that there's a bit of stalling going on right now.  But I have a hard time going full force into something when my "gut" tells me it'll never happen.  Why should I waste my time on it? At the same time, if this isn't my Gut talking and is instead my Dragon, I don't want the Dragon to win.

So, follies, help a girl out: How do I slay my Dragon and listen to my Gut?



____
Shout out here to the It Gets Better Project (www.itgetsbetter.org).  Mr. Savage may have started it with GLBTQ teens in mind, but I think the message applies more broadly to all who have been or are currently being bullied.  We may have been raised to brush harsh words off with the old saying, "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me" but I believe that when you reach a certain age, and certainly more in today's world than what I saw when I was a child, words can and do hurt more than any stick or stone ever could.  Let's stick up for each other and reach out instead of putting down.  And what do I say? SMILE BACK!

Happy Hours can be productive. Sometimes.

I went to a happy hour tonight with some coworkers (though "happy hour" is a misnomer since the bar did not actually have any happy hour specials) and the subject of The Bandleader came up.

First, The Coworker brought some male friends with her, and my Supervisor came up behind me, tapped me on the shoulder, and said, "OH MY GOSH is The Bandleader here??" Naturally, I spun around and was mildly disappointed when The Bandleader was, in fact, not there.

Sadness.

But later, as the night wore on, I spoke to a direct coworker of The Coworker and we started talking about The Bandleader.  Specifically, what I thought of The Bandleader and what he had told The Coworker about me.

Remember this? Yeah, me too. Well, I discussed this with the direct coworker, and I was joking about how slowly things were moving, and how it seemed like The Coworker wasn't going to tell me how The Bandleader felt about our non-date.  I mentioned this, and the direct coworker said,

"Oh my gosh, that's so funny, because The Coworker was totally conflicted about telling you! Apparently The Bandleader was all "tell Folly I had a ball with her if she asks" and so she didn't know whether or not to tell you before you asked her about it!!"

Well, follies, well.  It appears that a) It's a damn good thing I brought up The Bandleader with The Coworker because otherwise I would not have known that The Bandleader "had a ball" with me and b) DUDE, the loyalty here lies with THE GIRL and not THE GUY when you are setting them up *sigh*

Love her, she's sweet, but I swear The Coworker does not know how to set anyone up.  I mean, it's comical.  I laugh about it.  My life is a sitcom, and I'm starting to just embrace that little quirk.

BUT, the direct coworker did reassure me that despite what The Coworker told me the first night of the set up, her intention is in fact getting me and The Bandleader together as a COUPLE, and not just "as friends or whatever might happen" (as she told me that first night).

So, anyhoo, tonight was great, I got some more details on The Bandleader and such (which helps with the whole things-are-crawling feeling I'm getting) , and I'm overall in a great mood.  For that I must also credit the lack of caffeine, which is also helping with my sleep issues.

But I do miss my extra strong, dark roast coffee in the mornings *tear*

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.

*sigh*

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 :)

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 Match.com 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.


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

I can haz flirting?

I'm going to start off this post with a little background about me: I can't flirt.  I'm much more "Little-miss-nice-and-polite-with-smiles-and-the-occasional-arm-touch" than I am "Get-my-flirt-on-WORD-UP-Y'ALL".  In addition to this, I generally have a hard time reading into whether or not a guy is, in turn, flirting with me.

Now, more than two months after breaking up with D, I'm finally reaching the "Acceptance" phase of the breakup, and in the last week alone I've met two young men. This = me feeling AWESOME.

But there's a problem.

...*cricket*...

I'm having a really hard time remembering how to flirt, what to say, what to do. And I'm having an even harder time figuring out if a guy is Flirting-Flirting with me or just Politely-Flirting with me.

What a hard life I lead, right?

Anyhoo, with the first young gentleman I'm rather positive that he was Flirting-Flirting with me. Mr. Policy, as we'll call him, was incredibly talkative and even tripped down the stairs while talking to me.  I teased him about missing the step, and he seemed to take that well (a good sign that he has a sense of humor, yes?).  Only issue with Mr. Policy is that he works in the same building I do, which at my office is basically akin to dating a coworker.

Then Saturday night I met The Bandleader.  The Bandleader is incredibly tall (I was wearing flats and was literally craning my neck to speak with him) and cute.  He is a teacher, and I was introduced to him by a coworker after his band played at a nearby dive bar.  My coworkers and I missed the show since we were coming from a previous event. Basically the night was him running around doing band stuff, the coworker trying to bring him over to me, and then us talking at the very end of the night. We made eye contact a lot, he randomly tapped me on the arm with his water bottle, and there was much smiling.

I haven't had a chance to speak to the coworker since then, but I'm having a really hard time reading into it. On the one hand, he made physical contact (albeit with a water bottle) and eye contact, which are both good signs. On the other hand, maybe he was just being polite since his buddy's wife wanted to introduce us?

Neither guy asked for my number, by the way.

I feel like part of the problem is coming out of a LTR and having to figure out my way around men again. I mean, last year I was just coming out of a self-imposed dating hiatus and really taking notice of the men around me and their actions. But for nearly all of 2010 I was involved in a serious relationship with D.  Flirting with others became something that was flattering, but not something I paid much mind.

Now I feel all, "uhhhhhh doi, was that a Flirt?"

Anyone else felt that way after a breakup? I'm sure it'll come back to me, but I'm feeling rather disoriented about it all at the moment.

At any rate, I'm positively pleased that this week has given me not one but two encounters with cute men flirting in some way, shape, or form with me. Sometimes that's all it takes to really accelerate the Acceptance of a breakup!