Attracting the Wrong Kind

Like an episode of Sex and the City, my girlfriends and I were all sitting around the table of a trendy restaurant discussing men.

Melrose noted how she really liked the clean, professional types…but the artistic soul is what draws her in sexually.

Mischa falls hard for the emo-types, but has a hard time attracting them with her all-American good looks.

My physical type was the surfer look, but Lover Boy is far from it, and I love him anyway. He’s my ideal emotional type, which I find is what keeps relationships once the initial attraction wears off.

“I think it’s great that we all have different types, because we’ll never have to be competing for the same guy!” I said, trying to look on the bright side of things.

“Well, we are very different types of girls too, so I think different guys would be attracted to us.” Melrose said.

Mischa and I borrow clothes all the time, and I noticed that all of us prefer pastels and have blonde hair. I thought we were the exact same kind of girl.

I never thought of myself as having a “personal style,” I just threw on whatever fit. Sure, I have a tiny bit of love for the 60’s Mod and slightly wacky hairstyles…but I didn’t think it set me apart from anyone. I don’t think I go overboard with it…although I think Melrose, with her design degree, would beg to differ.

Nevertheless, the past couple of days I’ve noticed some…attention…I’ve been getting. From the wrong set of guys. Not that there is/are anything wrong with these guys…they just are totally not for me. Like the guy behind the counter of Hot Topic who burned me that pile of mix tapes just because I was interested in the song playing at the time (What can I say, I’m a sucker for punk covers of 80’s songs), or the spiky-haired eyeliner wearing guy walking around Urban Outfitters.

Then when I was pumping my gas today, a smile came from the guy using the pump on the other side. His face was nice, and his car was really nice…and he had a medium sized Mohawk.

Why do I attract those guys? Is Mischa’s type really attracted to slightly overweight blonde girls with their hair in goofy pigtails? Really?

Pride Always Goes...

She was looking good, and feeling good. After rock climbing for the first time the night before, and taking a sculpt class, she felt as if she could take on the world. She was wearing her new Capri’s from Guess (okay, the outlet…but they were still damn cute!), and her high heel shoes, and she strode down the parking garage with power. Feeling her newfound energy, she decided to take the stairs down to the casino level.

She turned the corner from the third floor to the third, and without warning, her heel caught on a loose piece of metal attached to the stair.

Cue the slow motion fall.

Her hand flung out, trying to catch onto anything that would keep her from falling down the entire flight of stairs. The first thing that she made contact with was the banister from the fourth floor.

The motion of her arm snapping her body back made her flash back to playground days, when someone on the Go-Round grabbed you when you were going the opposite direction. Only she was older now, and it hurt.

So did whipping around and slamming face first into the side of the stairs. She had saved herself the huge fall, but man did her shoulder hurt! Being as she was on her way to work, she had to shake it off and go about her day.

Two days later she felt the knot of muscle form right beneath her shoulder blade. The next morning she noticed she could actually see the knot in the mirror.

When telling her mother about this, her mother said “It might be a blood clot! You should go to the doctor.”

“Thanks ma. Now I’m worried.”

You Say It's Your Birthday

"Gunns!" I smiled and looked into his deep blue eyes. All 6 foot 4 of him engulfed me in a hug, and suddenly all was forgiven. I’d missed his school-boyish charm and charisma, and I was eager to catch up. He’d been seeing a girl for about a year; though they weren’t living together he described them as “comfortable.” I seemed to think that spelled trouble, but I kept it to myself.

Gunns had gotten himself a new gig, protecting the entrance of the newest club in town. The last time I’d seen him was at a place he wasn’t too thrilled with. I said goodbye to him, and saw the defeated look in his eyes; he was no longer doing the thing he loved.

That spark was back in his eyes, and he was in his element. He loved to take care of people, and seeing as how it was my “uber-late” birthday party, he invited us in and sat us at the interactive VIP table.

That’s right, I said interactive. Beneath the glass bounced all sorts of psychedelic objects. Gunns gave us all drink tokens, and threw one of them on the center of the table. All the objects went toward it like a vortex and cleared the table. By dragging our fingers around the table, we could make shapes and words out of all kinds of things; little people, hearts, flowers that bloomed with each touch. My favorite was writing in bubbles, then an octopus appeared and swam along the stream of bubbles.

After a few hours, someone wanted bottle service, so we were unceremoniously dumped out onto the dance floor with the unwashed masses. My friends took it in stride, and we stayed out dancing for awhile.

Suddenly I found all my friends and 4 or 5 guys staring at me. “What?” I yelled above the music. MoMo’s voice faded in and out of the music, but I gathered that she had just told them that this was my bachelorette party. Before I had a chance to deny the claim, the guys were surrounding me, and one went so far as to start grinding with me. “We are doing a bachelor party too!” The guy screamed in my ear, then motioned to the nerdliest one of the group. I finally broke free of his grip and said “Are you making sure he’s having a good time?”

“Oh yeah, I’m the best man baby!” He moved closer to me again. I put up my hand and said “then you have a mission; get off me and make sure he has a good time…not you…but him.” And I tried to walk away, but within a few steps the groom stopped me.

“You too, huh?” He motioned to me, then said “It’s my funeral too.”

I looked up at him, astounded. Anyone who would make that statement clearly wasn’t ready to be married. It seemed like an extremely unfunny thing to say. It made me a little sad, and I decided to take the bathroom escape.

We danced for a little longer, took many silly pictures, and ended the evening on a high note. I gave Gunns a hug and a kiss goodbye, and he smiled and said to me "Hey, we'll always have Fiji."

I smiled, socked him in the arm, and sashayed away.

Green Eyed Monster of Asses

"I'm cutting this a little close!" I thought as I rounded the corner to get up the stairs. A group of people were going straight and were a little ahead of me. I sped up to make the cutoff a little less mean of me and made it. I was up one step when I felt the hand collide with my my butt.
Now, before you get bent out of shape, I could tell by how the hand didn't grab me that it was an accident. In fact, the guy had said "Oh my god, I'm so sorry" before I could even turn around. I had to giggle a little...after all, it's not often that I get accidentally goosed. "Don't worry about it," I said and smiled at him, redding slightly. I was up on the third step by this point.

As I started to turn back around I saw his girlfriend push him from behind. Hard. He actually almost fell. I must have a twisted sense of humor, because I found this funnier than the butt "brush."

Why is it that girls get jealous over the tiniest thing? I'll be the first to admit that if someone is chatting up my significant other, and she isn't observing the three feet away rule, my hackles go up. I shake my finger up in the air and bob my head and say "oh no you didn't!" (Not really, 'cause I'd get beat down...not to mention made fun of...but I do it in my head!)

It's not a matter of trusting him, because I know he'd never cheat on me. But it's like when someone tells you to put on your seat belt. When you say that you drive safely, they say "It's not you I'm worried about, it's everyone else on the road!"

Girls' are sly and before you know it you are kissing them, and even you are surprised that it has happened. Some guys get thrown against a wall and kissed before they have time to think about saying "no." (I won't reveal your identity, but you know who you are! Three times...for shame! You'd think you'd keep to the middle of the room!)

Sometimes I feel like I'm an animal and someone has just crossed over into my territory and is going about sniffing in my trees like they are going to pee on them. It's like the Discovery Channel as I run over to Lover Boy and ask him to introduce me to the bit-uh, young lady to whom he is speaking. Yes, he IS my mine. NO, you may not pee on him. Who let you off your leash anyway???

It's in his DNA

Lover Boy participated in an AIDs walk last weekend. He got home from work around midnight the night before, and got caught up in getting ready. Before he knew it, it was 2 in the morning. It was then he decided that he'd just stay up all night, since he had to leave around 6am.

It was around 3pm that he was so tired he couldn't handle it, and he came to bed. He left late, around 7, and arrived at registration around 8. It was then he found out that registration lasted 2 hours, then the walk started. He was less than enthralled.

Because this was an AIDs walk, there were a certain amount of...religious zealots. Thankfully they were pretty low key, as far as zealots go. They just handed out fliers to their church, and kept away from the whole "homosexuality is a sin" thing.

Everything stayed pretty peaceful until Crabby Lover Boy got approached by a little old church lady. She held out the card to him and simply stated "Jesus Saves."

Before he could even stop himself, he said "Of course he does, he's Jewish!"

He then took a speed walk stance and took off for the finish line.

Mommy and Daddy are Fighting Again

"Are you here for the belly dancing class?" A woman asked us outside of the doors for the class. We nodded in agreement and she said "Well, they are already late, so go inside now." She gestured to the spinning class stretching out inside. She all but pushed us inside and we stood awkwardly inside the doorway. Mischa and I stood by helpless as BDI (Belly Dancing Instructor) and SI (Spin Instructor) squared off.

"You are supposed to stop 5 minutes before, you are late!" BDI bellowed to the SI with her indistinguishable accent. Her voice reverberated against the walls, and the Spin class froze mid-stretch.

"It's 5 till on this clock inside the room," SI pointed out, "We are just putting our things away now."

"We go by the clock outside, and it says you are 5 minutes late! You need to pay closer attention!" BDI chastised SI with a major finger wagging. It seemed to end in a stalemate until one of the Spin students approached BDI and told her that it was rude and out of line to talk to SI that way. BDI freaked out on her, and started complaining about everything else, from how she does this all the time to how she has to clean up after her class.

"I'm never going in a class before yours again" SI said, outraged. She stormed out of the room, leaving a mat behind. "You see, I have to clean up after you all the time!" BDI spat out. SI shouted "clean it up, bitch!" and slammed the door behind her.

Then we began our nice, calm, easygoing Belly Dancing Class.



Yeah. Awkward.

Feel the Burn Forever

"I need to sign up for the gym, and I need to make the body sculpting class in a half hour. Can you do that?"

"Have you toured our gym already?"

"Yeah, Yeah, I know where everything is, I don't need a tour. I'm here all the time with my friends."

"Okay, well, then I just need you to fill out this paperwork. I'll be right back, I'm just going to make a copy of your driver's license."

He leaves me alone in the tiny office to read. I have to be at that class, my friends are meeting me there. Then I see The Clause. I'm locked into paying $20 a month to this gym for two years. What is this, a cell phone agreement? What a damn sneaky way to get your money! Then he showed me the paperwork which stated how much that turns into by the end of the year...over $500 dollars!

So I sign my name to the paper with an angry florish, as if someone in the paperwork department will see my anger and change their policy. Afterwards I ask what they do if someone has to move? Seeing as how back home, this very minute, my father is laying in a hospital bed and no one knows what's wrong with him. I might have to move back to take care of my family.

He said that wouldn't be a problem, I'd just have to bring proof of my new address to their office, or if I got hurt a hospital bill. Of course, I'd still have to pay them $50 to opt out.

So this was it. I had joined the gym gang. The only other way out of this is death. I damn well better be skinny and hot by the end of these two years. At the very least I'll have lots of blogging material.