I’m Getting Paranoid…

Posted on April 29, 2011 by romanticcomedygirl

Have you ever had your car shipped before? Two strange men you’ve never met pick up your car on a small truck and hand you a pink slip with their company address that they could have made at Kinkos for 17 cents. Then you have no idea when your car is arriving, because the deal is they don’t call you until the day before they’re going to arrive. Your car could be stripped and sold for parts by the time you realize you’ve been scammed.

But that’s not what I’m getting paranoid about. I received an email to my public work address… from a man. This man, claims to have met me 5 years ago at a personal development seminar. He named 3, all of which I have attended and all of which are on my public social media sites. He told me about his travels around the world and how he’d be making his way back to LA via Fiji, and that I should stay in touch. AND… he sent his picture to remind me who he is.

Here’s where the paranoia kicks in. I don’t recognize this guy from a hole in the wall.. and I don’t forget faces. In fact, I freak people out! I get so freaky that, I will see a guy in a bar, ask him if we’d met, he’d think I was hitting him, and I’d swear up and down I’m not, to the point that he gets annoyed and walks away. In the mean time, I’m obsessed. I go through every memory in my brain until it hits me… 1986, Nassau Coliseum, his hair was longer, he was on line in front of me ALL night as we slept out for Bon Jovi tickets. We were in the first 50 on the line, but Ticketmaster was just making its mark and the concert was sold out in minutes, and we didn’t get tickets.  After tapping the cocky guy on the shoulder and reminding him of this incident, he did remember me… he also remembered I wasn’t hitting on him that night either, and while he wanted to continue our conversation over dinner sometime, I was just happy that my brain figured out who this long-haired turned business suit nerd was, so I could enjoy the rest of my evening flirting with a 22-year-old.

Back to my paranoia. So you can see why it would be alarming that I’m staring at an 8X10 of this guy and have no recollection of his face whatsoever!  Could he be a serial killer? He fits the MO… charming (from what I can tell of his writing), well informed about me (like a good stalker would be) and creating familiarity with his victim so that I wouldn’t want to be rude and not write back to him. This is SUPER CREEPY, yo!

Of course, I’ve met literally thousands of people in the past decade at events such as the ones he mentioned. There were 5000 alone, at the one he thinks we met at. (I know that was bad grammar ending with ‘at’… great now I’m being paranoid that I’m being judged on my grammer… I mean grammar.. paranoid about spelling, too WHEN WILL IT END?)

Then again, a serial killer/stalker would know that I would realize that I’ve met so many people that perhaps I would assume I could forget his face, and by sending me a picture I would think that “surely I must have met him or he wouldn’t be dumb enough to send a picture that I wouldn’t recognize.”

Help me! I feel like Vizzini in The Princess Bride! Inconceivable!

What do I do? Do I write back to this guy? I want to go to Fiji and New Zealand with this Ted Bundy handsome-like guy… he’s all ‘out-doorsey’ and rugged looking with a gorgeous waterfall in the background!

Maybe he’s the one who should be paranoid, because if I do go to Fiji with him and he does decide to go serial killer on me.. I’m gonna go Dexter on him! Word!!!

©2011

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Some Enchanted Evening…

Posted on April 28, 2011 by romanticcomedygirl

Before you get too excited… I have not seen a stranger from across a room. It’s just an amazing evening here. The air is humid and thick, the way I imagine a Louisiana night on the Bayou to be. It smells like Night Jasmine and there’s lightning but no rain. This is one of the things I’ve missed for the last 14 years- not having an outdoor patio. Now I have an entire yard. It’s is so beautiful tonight. Actually, the whole day’s been pretty healing.

It started with my first acupuncture appointment since “the bad experience.” I’m always up for trying something new, so when I was referred to Julia Robert’s blind acupuncturist, I thought, cool, I’l give it a try. He was a hard core Chinese medicine man, and I spent 40 minutes in agonizing mind-screw! I was getting the weirdest sensations of a dull ache throughout my body, especially at the needle points, and thought I was getting paralyzed.. Needless to say, I was not interested in having that experience again.

That is until I met an acupuncturist giving a lecture on being gluten free at Whole Foods. She offered a free consultation at her office, so I figured it was worth re-visiting. I had explained my bad experience and she knew exactly what I was referring to. When we sat down and talked, she agreed with everything Nutritionist had me doing, and was extremely complimentary of her. This was a very good sign in my book. Nothing pisses me off more than when people put down ‘my peeps’ in order to win my business. To tangentalize for a moment…

I especially HATE (I know it’s a strong word, but it’s how I feel) when people pose as interested clients and then mention that they do web design and try to tell me there are 50 things wrong with my website, and if I want to do “real business” I’d let them do a re-haul on it. How about asking me if I’m happy with my website first. How about asking me if I’m happy with my webmaster… after all she/he could be my sister or spouse.. and guess what all you webcrapsters trying to worm your way into my site… my webmaster IS like family to me! Okay! I LOVE HER… so back off, because if I gave her your IP address, she could have her way with you, she’s that good… she solves problems for the programmers who create my merchant account AND shopping cart. These are HUGE companies, and she’ll stay awake for 90 hours until she has cracked their system down to a single file and hands them their f-in’ mistake WHILE her house is being flooded… So don’t mess with my website! If you don’t like the copy- that’s my bad… if you don’t like the video- again, that’s me- if you don’t like my content- don’t visit, BUT DON’T YOU DARE mess with the backend of my site because my webmaster will eat you and your computer for a snack and then spit out your heard drive and your heart…

Whoa- did not realize I was going there. I guess I got one too many emails this week from jerks trying to ‘optimize me’ anyway, back to my acupuncture. The difference between Chinese acupuncturists and 3 gorgeous blond female entrepreneurs who’ve been trained by the Chinese, is that the Chinese have been practicing  acupuncture as their primary source of health care for 2,500 years and think that babies like me should suck it up and trust them. Do not question the Chinese Medicine Man. On the other hand, the female entrepreneurs who have studied this old science, understand that for someone like me, who grew up with doctors, and find this a little “woo woo” they need to provide lots of literature explaining what they are doing and the effects of their ‘doings’. This was extremely effective. Because as I lay in a spa room, with pillows under my knees and head, and gentle meditation music playing, a sci-fi lamp with two bulbs spreading heat over my body, a quartz stone placed on my heart chakra, and some citrus-y scent sprinkled over my chest, the dull achy sensations from the 30+ needles sticking out of my body, suddenly felt “healing” instead of scary. Of course when Blond #2 put 2 needles in my left ear, 1 needle in my right, and 1 more in my third eye, and told me it was to quiet my mind, I told her she was going to need a LOT more needles.

Yet, I fell asleep. I woke up, still with the weird ache, but it has subsided, and not only is my tension decreased, but I have full range of motion in my shoulder which has an injury. How is that even possible? Qi apparently. I go back Saturday and I’m hoping the needles feel a little better, but if not, I’ll focus on the outcome.

Then I went to Yoga. No, Muga Man wasn’t there tonight, which was kind of a blessing, because I really got to go deep in the meditation of my practice. Then I came home and took my Epsom salt bath, and I am super relaxed, smelling the Jasmine and watching the lightning flashing. Good times…

©2011

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Can We Pretty-Please Go Back To Downward Dog?

Posted on April 27, 2011 by romanticcomedygirl

The view is especially nice from that position. You see, from upside down between my legs, I’m peering at a hot long-haired blond guy, with tanned skin, and lean muscles galore! His triceps are striated! Hello Muga! Now ladies, I can’t remember the last time I checked out a guy with long hair. Probably because the ones in LA all look like tired-old rock stars who refuse to follow Bon Jovi’s lead and cut theirs. And none of them have seen sunlight since ’82. But this guy took me back…. way back…. waaaaaaay back to when I wouldn’t date a guy with hair shorter than mine, and mine was halfway down my back.

I’d forgotten what a “surfer dude” looked like. This guy has brought “the look” back with a bag of chips… another thing I’m not allowed to have unless it clearly states ‘Gluten Free’ on the bag.

I was so distracted. Here I am in my ‘hour of me-time’ praying for positions that would put him in my eye line. The nice thing about yoga, is that when you’re looking toward someone, they’re looking in another direction, so it’s really easy to check people out. Luckily, I was layered (because the room is always freezing!), so I kept peeling layers off, which would be very sexy if he were checking me out too. Which of course I wouldn’t know, because every time I was in his eye line, I was facing the other direction. Another bonus, is I was wearing one of my spaghetti strapped tops which always just about pops a nip when I’m bent over. And every time we folded forward and then took a deep breath in to come up to our fingertips with a flat back, he had the perfect opp to check out ‘the girls’ in the mirror. Again, I have no idea if he was checking them out, because I too was watching ‘the girls’ like you’d watch a Jenga tower as you’re pulling out a block. Because while you do want the anticipation of possible ‘nip exposure’ you don’t want to actually, pop the nip, so I had to keep close tabs. When we got into hard core vinyasas, I had to pull the bottom of the tank up over my cleavage so there would be no accidents. This isn’t a bad thing, because while the nips can’t pop while the tank top is folded up, the abs can. Ah, yeah. And I was working that oujai breath to keep them lookin’ g-ood, good!

On the plus side, I’m now very motivated to go to 8pm yoga, as this is the second time I’ve seen him in the class. It’s hard to motivate for such a late class UNLESS there is hotness to be seen. On the minus side, when there is HOTNESS right behind me, I tend to show off, not the point of yoga, and now I’m very sore! On the plus side, that means I should take an Epsom salt bath with bubbles and lavender oil, the perfect ‘fantasizing’ location. On the minus side, I’m so tired that I could potentially fall asleep in the tub and drown and then I’d have to miss 8pm yoga tomorrow night… I think I’ll work through the pain.

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Sometimes Music Says It Better Than A Blog Entry

Posted on April 26, 2011 by romanticcomedygirl

Feeling like choking myself with a tie today. Had an intense dream last night. Keep listening to this song. Sister is in the same boat, so we can commiserate and keep each other in check. Whether it’s “hearing” the words or reading them… it’s still like being stabbed with a knife.. and yet we keep putting ourselves in front of the dagger…

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A Note To The Superfriends- Call Me The Lightswitch

Posted on April 25, 2011 by romanticcomedygirl

By the end of this year I think each of the Superfriends will have at least 12 nicknames. We’re kind of like those people who keep getting degrees so they have 50 three-letter acronyms following their names, only we spend more time in the bar or at the spa than in a classroom. Speaking of nicknames, DJ Super pilot invented the word tangentalizing and I’m about to demonstrate it’s meaning:

To the poor person who looked up Gorton’s Fisherman in the search engines and found my blog entry… I’m sorry. I know that you were looking for fish sticks not information about IC’s ‘joy stick’. And for all of you creepy people out there who keep my stats high for searching the keywords “where do women hide sexy underwear” and “for every beautiful woman out there there’s a man tired of having sex with her” (yes, these phrases send multiple people to my blog daily) I THANK YOU, and…. ewwww with the panties!

Tangentalizing done. Back to the subject at hand. My new nickname. I was advised by ‘someone who will remain nameless’ to “cut IC some slack” This ‘someone who will remain nameless’ has been on the other side of my “crazy” enough times, that I knew I should listen to him. So rather than cut and run, which is my usual MO in situations like these (and by situations I mean: remember a while back when this was all starting I mentioned some yellow flags? Well, they’ve turned red) I decided to at least have a conversation with him to see if we could go backwards (and by backwards I mean: remember a while back when some of you coughSister, coughcoughNutritionist, thought that perhaps I was falling in love? There was even a ‘could it be I’m falling in love’ video posted by our beloved  DJ Superpilot. Remember that? well we’re about to go in reverse).

You see, somehow, and Nutritionist can back me up on this, I wound up with good numbers in the Testosterone department, but low numbers in the Estrogen department. I think that’s why I’ve always been like a light switch. Most girls, the minute they get intimate with a guy and sometimes even before, they develop ‘feelings.’ See? Only a chick with good Testosterone numbers puts air quotes around the word ‘feelings’ as if it were a silly word. Anyway, I’m not “most girls” and have successfully switched the light switch on and off with my emotions when it comes to guys. That is, guys I don’t want to have emotional feelings for. And pretty much every one of those guys, who when I originally met them, where excited about having a hot chick to fool around with, without attachments, became attached… and I had to set them free. Of course almost everyone of them has resurfaced in my Facebook friend request section. What was I saying? Oh yes…

So tonight, I went to IC, and apologized for leaving in a seething rage, and explained my hurt feelings and that I’m not interested in hurt feelings because that means I’m getting in too deep. I told him I wanted to go back to the way things were in the beginning; fun, sex, no kids, no ‘family hangs,’ no relationshippy stuff. He agreed, and said that while I was away he felt himself pulling back because Four had been asking for me, and he was getting concerned about his girls getting attached to me. HELLO? Isn’t that why I told him in the beginning I shouldn’t meet his girls? I don’t know why, but dogs and kids love me. Okay, I know why dogs love me, but don’t understand kids. I can see why some would, but even the difficult ones gravitate to me.

Then it was decided… back to Friends With Benefits (although I didn’t bring up the point that in my 48 hours of anger because of his blowing off “the conversation” which was pissing me off even more, I revisited the definition of Friends With Benefits and realized that he doesn’t really qualify. I mean, I haven’t seen him since he was 14 and back then we weren’t friends, so now all these years later, I realize we aren’t friends. We’re Becoming Friends… With Benefits. I know.. it’s complicated, which is why no matter what happens in the next week he’s keeping his current acronym NOTE TO GUYS: don’t give girls like me too much time to think. We’ll talk ourselves out of anything wonky, and that isn’t good for you). He said I could still hang out with the girls, but I told him that defeated the purpose.  No girls, no dinners with moms, no sleepovers. The benefits package has been SLASHED!

After the decision, he asked if I was going to stay and hang out. I said sure, hoping there’d be somethin’ somethin’ in it for me. It’s been like 3 weeks now! So we were watching TV, but then it got weird. I don’t know why. He seemed really sad and tense. It took all of my will power not to go into “fix it mode” and ask him what was wrong and what’s been going on in his life for the past 3 days, or if he was re-contemplating our decision. Lightswitch- no heavy conversation. So I perched myself behind him and scratched his neck, head, and back for a while, then told him I was going home. When I was leaving it still felt weird. He said he’d call me tomorrow and we’d go do something out of the house. Again, his mood was a little too… hate to say it, but it was the vibe I was getting… fragile, to come out and say, “Well, unless we’re going to screw in public, I see no reason to be outside of the house.”  The Lightswitch can be brutal. That’s why Sister asks me to break up with guys for her. Sometimes speaking my truth can be hurtful to others. Sister advised me to be conscious of my words tonight… so I was.

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The Word Is Angry- Look It Up! AKA If Only I Were A Caveman

Posted on April 22, 2011 by romanticcomedygirl

I know I’m new to country music but dang those girls know how to belt out a song and put a man in his place! Ashton Shepard’s Look It Up, Miranda Lambert’s Gunpowder and Lead, and Carrie Underwood’s Before He Cheats.  I am so pissed right now I could write a country song!

Seriously! Men and women speak two completely different languages. I don’t understand why our parts are made to fit. What’s the point of joining together two human beings who think completely differently? Why did the caveman decide that to procreate, he had to have a lasting relationship with the cavemother of his babies? Why couldn’t the cave people come up with a better system? If I were a caveperson, this is what I would have proposed:

(Obviously this would have been in some grunty language but just go with it) “It appears that to continue populating the earth and growing our species, cavemen must insert their Poo-je into a cavewoman’s Vajooge. Now, it is clear that Cavemen and Cavewomen can only feel the sparks for 2 -4 months before we get too comfortable with each other and start pissing each other off, SO I propose that Cavemen and Cavewomen have sex to make babies and to satisfy urges. There is to be no conversation, no dinner, no cavewall art exhibits, just sex. Cavemen will live together separated into two groups; those who want to live like pigs and those who are neat fanatics. You will never get tired of telling your stupid hunting stories, and you can fish until midnight for all the Cavewomen care. The Cavewomen, will live together separated into two groups the touchy feelies and the uptighties. The touchy feelies will braid each others’ hair, tickle each others’ backs and not feel shy about snuggling with each other because it’s a non-sexual act. The uptighties will not touch in anyway, but will enjoy a good gossip conversation, decorate the cave, and find multiple uses for fire to be used for cooking.”

If only I were a Caveman, by now in 2011, we would have sex houses like gyms. One you work out in one you have sex in. Men and women would go to the sex houses when they needed sex and then return home to “their kind”. There would probably be no war or crime because there would be no miscommunication, everyone could get sex when they want it and there would be no stigma attached. No jealousy, no hurt feelings, NO CRAP!

I would probably be living with the Superfriends helping Psychic and Cowgirl raise their kids while DJ Superpilot plays songs that we all dance around to without judgement because we’re girls so we can just dance to have fun. Sommelier would be pouring the red wine while Healer ponders her life’s purpose because she’d have no one to heal since we’re all so well adjusted. And See-er would be giving us all art projects which we would love and never grow tired of.

Ah Utopia. But now back to reality. I’m pissed!!! I’m super pissed!!! I’m super freakin’ pissed!!! And the frickin’ ridonkulouness of it is that IC has NO CLUE WHY!!! Which he wouldn’t because he’s a guy! In his head, he’s missed me for the past two weeks, I stopped by last night because it was my first night home and I wanted to see him. I could tell he was tired, so I didn’t stay late. Tonight I went over again, he made me a steak dinner with a sweet potato because he knows I love that, he even put on the tribute to the women of country music and watched it for two hours and he doesn’t like country music, but knows I do.  By 11pm we were in his bedroom. And at approximately 11:35pm I was so seething mad, that I got up from his bed put on my shoes and my cowboy hat, picked up my bag and took out my car keys, to which he asked/said in complete confusion, “I take it you’re leaving?”

Damn straight I was leaving! You know what I expect when I return from being out of town for two weeks? I expect the guy in my life to take one look at me and push me up against the nearest car, wall, tree trunk.. whatever.. kiss me passionately for at least 4 minutes and then pull away only to stare at me for a moment and declare, “Girl, you’re even better looking than I remember!”

Now that’s a welcome home! But nooooooo IC is clearly comfortable with me, too comfortable if you ask me. It’s been what? Two months. Yesterday I get a peck on the lips and a tour of the house renovations. Tonight, you got the pre-bedroom details, but what I failed to mention was I asked him about 3 times if he was going to kiss me. I even sang him a country tune, “Are you gonna kiss me or not? Are we gonna do this or what? I think you know I like you a lot, but you’re bout to miss your shot, are you gonna kiss me or not?” To which he asked if I wanted to go into his room to see his cat…

His cat? Unless he suddenly got a giant white tiger that he’s about to do me on, there is nothing sexy about asking a hot chick back to your room by inviting her to see your cat! GEEEEZZZZ! When we finally made it back to his room (cat no where in sight, thank the lord) he just lay on his bed and waited… I mean! So fine, I got on top of him and started getting into kissing him and stuff… but he was acting like a freshman virgin on prom night who was just doing it because the guy was a senior and paid for the tickets.

If you’re tired- TELL ME! If you’re still in pain from your muscle pull- TELL ME! If you’re just not that into me- TELL ME but don’t do me any favors, buddy. I can pull out an image of an ex boytoy and have a better time by myself. I’ve already written the entry “for every hot girl there’s a guy who’s tired of having sex with her” and I’ll be out the door before I find myself in that situation again! I HATE BEING PISSED OFF ABOUT SEX!!! And to top it all off, now we have to ‘talk’ tomorrow, because he has no idea why I’m so pissed off and I haven’t the foggiest idea how to translate all of this into ‘Man Language’ Dang I want to write the F curse so badly!!!!

©2011

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Leaving My Spa Accommodations AKA Sister’s Place

Posted on April 20, 2011 by romanticcomedygirl

Seriously.. it’s like a spa in here. You walk into vases (yes plural) of Lilies that make the whole place smell wonderful. It’s clean to the point of OCD. All of the furniture is comfy yet stylish. But the danger is in the details, and by danger I mean, everything in this place makes me want to make a 911 call to the Nutritionist. Here’s a list of triggers fro me:

Candles: Creamy Vanilla Swirl, Vanilla Bean, Vanilla Cupcake (which smells just like one!)

Bubble bath: Coconut Frosting….yum!!!!

Face Masque: Seaweed (may not seem to be a trigger, but it reminds me of sushi and I can no longer have soy sauce, so it is an issue), Cucumber Ice Sorbet

Scrub: Almond Honey

Then there are the luxuries: Lavender/Vanilla SLEEP Dream Bath, Lavender Body Oil, Desert Sage Body Polish, Lemon Verbena candles scattered throughout the house. I’m convinced her toilet paper is imported from a castle because it feels like royalty when I wipe.  Even the hand soap is “Sensual Hand Soap” Jasmine/vanilla.. I feel sexy just washing my hands.

Her shower caps are cute. Who has cute shower caps? All I can ever find at the drugstore are Granny Caps or if I look deep into my linen closet I can dig out an old Saran Wrap one I took from a hotel. But Sister has shower caps with turquoise flowers, and turquoise stripes. I want a turquoise flower shower cap! I wish to look cute in the shower while keeping my hairdo dry.

There are multiple glasses of scented oils with sticks shooting out. I’m not sure how they work, but some smell like the beach, some smell like flowers, and some smell like something I can’t identify but it makes me want to rub the oil all over IC!

To add to the spa experience, there’s a store… not literally, but you know how exclusive spas have gift shops with jewelry, etc? Well, Sister has a large dresser with two jewelry trees, two jewelry displays, a perfume collection, and a shell display with enough “stuff” to literally open a store. Which is nice, because if you look in her closet it’s much of the same… miles of designer clothes. So, when at “the spa” I shop at what I lovingly call “My Sister’s Closet.” She lets me have at her jewelry and clothes, and for a short time I feel like I could easily hang with the women in Vogue… or the Kardashians, because some of the jewelry is extreme for me, but apparently the Kardashians wear it.

While the rooms all have different decorative themes, they all fit perfectly and belong in the pages of Architectural Digest. And she did it all herself. No decorator.  Most of the time I don’t even sleep in a bed because the couch is so dang comfortable! Sister’s got goooood taste!

And speaking of taste… her cleaning products all have names and scents that you could eat, like cucumber. Imagine cleaning a counter and then wanting to lick it. Don’t do it, just imagine it.  I use vinegar.. it smells terrible, and certainly not like something you want to lick!

Sister also has a dog. HE SMELLS GOOD! How does that happen? Dogs never smell good all the time.. but Sister’s does. And his fur is like a mink coat. Talk about luxury, this dog has a designer tote to travel in, dog beds galore, more toys than FAO Schwartz, a velvet burrow hole, and adorable matching leash and collar. Was very relieved that Sister didn’t buy him any jeweled collars, after all, he is a boy and spends a lot of time playing football.

Today I must leave the spa, and the mink dog, and Sister… and I’m very sad. I’ll be back in in two months as my year of the Gypsy continues, but I miss her already…

©2011

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It Sucks When Your Ex Looks Good BUT It Rocks When He Looks AWFUL!!!

Posted on April 17, 2011 by romanticcomedygirl

Yes, I had my very first Shady sighting since the night I dropped him at the airport, said goodbye, and wished him a successful business trip. Little did I know that whole trip was a facade so he could have sex with his ex-girlfriend from college who was married with three kids. The fact that she was cheating on her husband was not my problem. The fact that he was cheating on me… was his problem!

Five hours after discovering ‘the truth about Shady’ I had already changed my alarm code, locks on the door, packed all his things and had his two friends pick up all of his stuff. I was done with him and never wanted to see him again. That was 2008…

And I didn’t see him again…. until last night. It wasn’t how I imagined it at all. I figured I was going to feel something, nervous butterflies, disgust, anger… but no. Nothing. Nada. If anything, I felt sorry for him. He looked AWFUL! And I’m not just saying that because I’m his ex, I happened to be at a carnival with Sexy Wife, Hubby, and their two kids. At the exact moment I saw him, I was holding the hand of the couple’s 4-year-old and sort of pushed her and Hubby off to the side saying, “Move to the right, don’t look around, just keep moving, just keep moving…” I wasn’t sure at this point where Sexy Mom and her son were because she was checking someone out herself… someone who she thought didn’t belong.

When she caught up to us, she asked what was going on. I explained that my ex-fiance was there and she, of course, wanted to know where. “He’s the guy back there with the long hair.” NOW before you start thinking RCG + Long Hair = good thing… 1. My heavy metal guy phase ended in the 80’s 2. Even if the occasional Muga Man (see glossary) turns my head, it’s not for this kind of hair.

Sexy Mom said, “No!!! I was just looking at him thinking about what a dirtbag he looked like.” Not to make me feel badly, she said, “Don’t worry, we all have those guys in our past that make us ask ‘how did I wind up with him?'” I tried to redeem myself a little bit by explaining he didn’t look like that when I was with him.

When Shady and I first started dating, he tried growing his hair out. It was his way of saying ‘F-You’ to ‘the man’ no suits, no boss, no haircuts. He looked like a homeless bum, and in an effort to not hurt his self esteem while still getting him to cut it, I would say things like, “You have such a beautiful face, you’d look so sexy with your hair cut short so I could see it.” It eventually worked and for the remainder of our relationship, he looked neat and clean. As I said, our break-up was in 2008 and I don’t think his hair has been cut since. He also lost weight but not in a good way. He used to be big and muscular.. now he is probably 30 lbs smaller but not muscular. I’m not trying to bash him, I’m simply just expressing my shock as to how much he changed and not for the better.

It could have been worse. He could have looked really good like First Love when I saw him again. Or been in IC’s situation (yes, he’s IC again.. more about that in a moment) IC is exactly the opposite of Shady. His poor ex must see him now and be like “why didn’t you care about your body when you were with me?” Her loss is my gain, and my loss may be the gain of the girl with Shady. I couldn’t get a look at her because I was too busy avoiding him so I wouldn’t give him any reason to re-engage with me. It was so hard to get rid of him for the first year after our break-up! I even had to pay $5/month to AT&T to get him blocked from my cell phone.

So out with the old and in with the new. Maybe I over-reacted a bit in my last entry. That can only mean one thing… I’m in deeper than I initially thought. While I was getting frustrated thinking I was ‘out of sight out of mind’ because he preferred texting me to calling… he was busy telling his ex-wife about me.  That is a big deal and something I wish he would have discussed with me before doing it considering I know her too. I haven’t seen her in many years, but it’s the point.  It’s only been about two months. Who knows where this is going? Why upset her for no reason? I was picturing her going home that night and googling me to find out everything about me. There’s a lot to find… Well at least she knows her kids are being exposed to someone having a positive influence on the world.

The whole ‘Ex’ thing is complex, difficult, intricate, byzantine, thorny, dense, convoluted, and problematical. And as Ivana Trump said, “Looking good is the best revenge.” Not that I want revenge on any of my exes, but I’ll keep doing my yoga, coloring my hair, and wearing my tinted moisturizer…

Anyway… 4 days until I see IC! Is that bad that I’m counting the days? Ruh Roh!

©2011

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I’m Giving IC A Demotion!

Posted on April 14, 2011 by romanticcomedygirl

You know why It’s Complicated is a terrible name? Because I don’t like relationships that are complicated! I was fine with Friend With Benefits but HE was the one who kept sharing his feelings and incorporating me into his life when I was telling him not to. Before I went out of town he was concerned about me wanting to hook up with someone in another city. I don’t understand guys. He knows I haven’t been with a guy before him in like 2 years, and now that I’m with him I’m going to want to ‘slut around’ the United States? I’m starting to understand that t-shirt “Boys are stupid throw rocks at them!” The artist has a gallery at The Grove. I think I’ll go sit in it for a while!

Now I’ve been out of town for 7 days, and he’s pretty much been incognito. I know the first few days he was in pain, but where are my morning and evening texts? Hello? When you have a ‘thing’ you must remain consistent.  Shady may have been a pathological liar, but for 7 years I got flowers EVERY week. RCG RULE: don’t start a ‘thing’ unless you can keep it going, because when you get inconsistent, flags go up, and today’s yellow flags are tomorrow’s red flags!

My walls are going up. I have one more week out of town and now I have a bad attitude. Now I want to demote him and go back to Friend With Benefits- that’s it! No more! Because this is my life. No matter where I end up living, because of my career I will be traveling. And clearly he’s not good ‘out of town’.

DJ Super Pilot asked me early on in the week when I missed him, if I miss HIM or his ‘parts’. Well, if I missed Him at the beginning of the week, I’ve changed my mind! From now on it’s all about his parts! He was so close to getting the pearl out of the clam shell and now it’s shut– tight!

When I find myself doing all of the reaching out, I don’t like it. And Sister can tell you, I can turn someone off like a light switch. It will probably mean I’ll be pining away for First Love for the next week, which is always frustrating. I hate that I compare everyone to him. But I have enough complications in my life right now, I don’t need a man to be one of them! If it’s not fun it’s not for me. I’m ranting because I’m pissed!

There’s two sides to every story and I’m sure he’s got his own crap happening on the other side of the states, but it’s called communication! I don’t know… maybe I need to go back to what works- boy toys. They are tried and true. This whole friend with benefits may be too complicated for my lifestyle!

Grumpy Girl signing off!

©2011

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Friend With Benefits Has A New Name And It Came From A Guy…

Posted on April 10, 2011 by romanticcomedygirl

Yesterday I was hanging out with one of my favorite families, catching Sexy Wife and Hubby up on my life, and I got to take a few short cuts because Sexy Wife happens to be a reader. However, with two adorable kids and her own growing business empire, she has fallen behind a bit and hadn’t been aware of the “new name for FWB” contest. As I got her up to speed, Hubby just listened with intrigue. We have a working relationship so he’s not used to hearing this side of me and he knows he’s not allowed to read the blog, so he was both amused and disturbed.

“So,” he asked, “Women have calculations and percentages and labels?” This was in response to me referring to Friend With Benefits by his label and not by his actual name, which called for an explanation… which I gave. And FWB being my first “friend with benefits” led into the “boy toy” definition, which totally confused Hubby, so I explained it liked this:

“You know how on The Biggest Loser, when a 300 pound person loses 10 pounds it’s not worth the same percentage of weight loss to the team than if a 192 pound person loses 10 pounds? Well it’s the same thing with boy toys. When a girl is 29 and the guy is 21 it’s not as big of a percentage as when a girl is 40 and the guy is 25. It’s a different score.”

Then I went on to explain how with boy toys, they must be either dumb or angry because the smaller the age difference percentage the greater chance you have of getting emotionally attached, so it’s important to find a boy toy with major flaws that would never allow for attachment. It’s like dating a hostile uterus if you don’t want kids.

Hubby was trying to keep up with the names, the math and the bizarre metaphors, and that’s when we got to FWB, and Sexy Wife and I were discussing the changing nature of our relationship. You see, Sister keeps insisting that I’m falling in love with him and I’m going to marry him and not come home from my Gypsy road trip. I was explaining to Sexy Wife how ridiculous it was for Sister to be worrying about that at this point, as we’ve been Friends With Benefits for less than two months. EVERY romantic comedy girl knows that there’s a magical spell over the first four months called The Honeymoon Period, where everything is pheromones and romance and butterflies, and the ‘real people’ in the relationship don’t show up until all that fairy dust wears off.

Hubby chimed in again around this time to get the whole math/month/timing down straight. Once he appeared to understand Sexy Wife and I went on to discuss the changes in the “benefits package.” It is clear that something is changing, but again, it’s too soon to call him a boyfriend. I told her about Climber Gal’s suggestion of Lover Boy based on the Dirty Dancing scene, and we were oooing and ahhhing about what a cute name that was, but still not quite it, when Hubby interjected, “Why don’t you call him IC?” Sexy Wife and I turned to him with “huh?” expressions on our faces, “for It’s Complicated.”

I looked at Sexy Wife, she looked at me. I raised an eyebrow, she raised one in return. “Say that again…” I requested.

“Just call him IC for It’s Complicated,” Hubby repeated.

“Ooooo that’s good,” I said to Sexy Wife as she nodded her head in agreement with a touch of pride for her husband’s brilliance.

I declared that Friend With Benefits had a new name “It’s Complicated AKA IC”. And while Hubby was happy to have helped (because he’s a man and men love to be problem solvers for women and we love them for it), he was more concerned for his three-year-old son who had been sitting with us, hoping that none of this crazy ‘girl-talk’ was sinking in on some unconscious level, which upon becoming a man would resurface and scar him for life.

©2011

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