"I’ve been telling everyone who hasn’t met you yet that you have a porn-star body. Because it’s true."
Nothing like some kind words from the S.O to boost a girl’s self-esteem.
"This whole world is wild at heart, and weird on top."
The things you pick up as you go.
So, after pulling a Sixties Housewife tonight—doing the dishes after smoking while shirtless and dancing to Rihanna…so sue me— I was thinking about how it seems as if the preferred method of going out and meeting people— i.e, going out to loud bars packed with swarms of sweaty people— wasn’t quite the brightest idea. I mean, there I was, shaking my booty in a Victoria Secret’s push-up bra and brandishing a sponge, and this was all in the privacy of my own home. If you met me in a bar or club, I’d be stiff, a little bit formal, awkward as to how get across the fact I’m cool (Are you a dancing kinda guy, or one that wants to see that I can school them at pool?) and I’d probably think your name was Stan, not Dan. Overall, not as cool as that girl back there shakin’ her thang to David Guetta. Why can’t I just tell a guy, “Yeah, why don’t you come by Thursday night at 11 PM, and you can just pretend you’re not there and observe me doing my thing and see if you’re compatible?” It seems SOOO much better than “Meet me at 11 at the bar where drunk white girls will be screeching along to Kes$ha?”
I brought this fact up to one of my exes, who— bless his little heart— immediately responded by saying, “You always were the most fun when we were just at home. I never knew what to expect to find.”
…Sometimes my exes are allowed to continue to exist in my mind if they’re ever so kind.
I’ve got a GREAT “Once Upon A Time” for you guys. Listen up.
Once upon a time, in my sophomore…junior?…I don’t know; it was college; there were drugs; ANYWAY…year of college, I had a class with this really sweet, really downright sexy (read: Built, Italian, great smile, just my kind,) guy. I found him A.) Adorable, and B.) Intelligent, and we chatted however many days a week it was that we sat near each other. (Like I said, it was college; I don’t remember.) We kept in casual touch after that class ended; mostly, I’d run into him on campus, or, more likely, in the gym, because he has the sort of bod that one only obtains through being one of the ONLY guys spending copious amounts of time actually WORKING OUT in the gym pumping iron, instead of just standing there, admiring yourself, and grunting as you lift a barbell 3 times, like most dudes do. I’d be doing my run on the treadmill, he’d wave and smile, and then wait until I stopped at the end of my set to come over and chat with me.
This is important— I think this was when I developed a thing for him, because unlike other guys, he understood that the LAST thing a girl wants is to try to hold conversation while pounding out a 7-minute mile. I mean, really. Panting while sweaty and red in the face and VERTICAL? Not so sexy.
Anyway. It’s been a minute since we saw each other, but we started chatting today on Facebook when he sent me this:
"I’m always seeing pics you post up…Like modeling-type shots…You’re looking good :).”
SIR, YOU CALLED ME A MODEL; I WILL NOT CORRECT YOU. NOW, DROP THOSE CLOTHES AND WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO NAME OUR BABIES?
Despite driving me up a wall and back down the other side at times, the Unattainable Man is staggeringly good at championing the things about myself that I am secretly the least great at reassuring myself about. The following are three things that he said (unprompted) to me today that mean more than he will probably ever know:
- “Sweetheart, you HAVE to get out of the cupcake shop. You are far too intelligent to be stuck there.”
THANK YOU. THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU for believing in me; for believing that I will get out of that trivial hell shortly; that I will go on to do much bigger, better, and brighter things with my time and my talents— things that I will be respected and appreciated for and that will fulfill me the way a job well done should. After the crushing disappointment of the social media analyst position earlier this week, I needed to be reminded that my time will come, sooner rather than later. Other people do and will see my potential.
- This morning, he asked me multiple times what my plans for the day were. After telling him twice “nothing,” the third time he asked, I called him on the repeat question, asking why he was so insistent about it. “Because I keep asking you and you keep saying ‘nothing,’ which isn’t a real answer,” he told me. “Really, what are you doing? There must be SOMETHING.”
There was. It was grocery shopping, and unspecific plans to meet a friend for coffee, and some more work on the novels. Boring, but not nothing. Let it be a lesson to me— when someone wants to know something, “nothing” is not a correct answer to those sufficiently interested. If someone is satisfied with the answer “nothing,” then they’re not really interested in the first place. Great life lesson.
- And when he asked me about the Biggest Loser team challenge I’m currently a part of (3 lbs. down! A hypothetical ~5 to go! Multiple craving-related meltdowns survived, more or less! …Less, definitely less.):
"You have nothing else to lose! Girl, those hips don’t lie. You’re perfect! You’re exquisite!"
…Because he is a smart, smart man.