Chase (v): To follow rapidly in order to catch (this could pertain to my career), to go and follow in pursuit (I think I’ll assign this to love)

I wish I had a PhD in life, unfortunately I don’t. It’s a hard thing to do and being an independent woman in Boston doesn’t make it any easier; I’m a triple A, work till I drop, laugh a lot because I can, walk fast, talk fast kinda girl. I do it all and I do it in 5 inch heels.

You would think navigating a career and a new relationship while breaking the age barrier of 30 would be as easy as getting home in a timely manner during a sox-yankees series (this ladies and gents is sarcasm at its finest). However it is not and I am stumbling through this cray cray life one day at a time with a iPhone in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.

These are my daily musings; my everyday observations. I am here to rave, rant , tell my stories and perhaps laugh at those times when wine and over priced shoes, tears just aren’t enough.

So what happens after you caught Prince Charming? You could say I’m still Chasing Boston.




Monday, December 13, 2010

Episode 12: “Pete and Repeat were in a boat….”

Courtney’s date fell off, who’s left? Repeat.

It was a scene right out of a bad 80’s movie (sans teased hair and lace gloves); there I was in my poof skirt birthday dress and 5 inch zebra stilettos perfectly fitted to my pedicured toes standing in the middle of my living room. The most amazing people I know were all around me and all I could think about was that Mr. New Guy was not one of them. Hours went by and I kept an ear to the door; open then close, open then close. I would strain to hear the voices coming in, none of them matching his. Finally with the help of a bottle of 1981 Moet, being stood up on my birthday didn’t seem so bad.

Then came the tequila shots promptly followed by chocolate cake which was chased by more champagne and by the end of the night I had forgotten where I was, why I couldn’t stop the tears, and where I left my shoes……seriously, I lost my shoes.

I had crossed the threshold of what would surface as the three month curse. It was like I had sold my Babe Ruth to the Yankees and was being infinitely punshishd for it….only I couldn’t figure out what exactly I had sold to whom.

365 days later, there I was in my nude one shoulder birthday dress and 5 in red suede stilettos perfectly fitted to my pedicured toes sitting in the middle of my living room. The most amazing people I know were all around me and all I could think about was that Dr. New Guy was not one of them. Hours went by and I kept an ear to the door. The Vulcan death grip I had on my phone rivaled that of the Chinese death grip I had on my champagne glass and I was in a constant battle as to which one I should put to my face more. I would strain to hear footsteps on the stairs and none of them stopping outside of my apartment. Finally with the help of a bottle of Veuve, a glass of Malbec and a can of Four Loko, being stood up on my birthday (again) didn’t seem so bad.

It was to the day 3 months. Here I was a year older and none the wiser. Did I not learn anything over the past year? I was standing in the doorway of the House That Smith Built; shoeless, date-less and holding a pink rabbit.

Between Mr. New Guy, Dr. New Guy, McSport, and Houdini I was rounding out my year still single, still fabulous and still holding stock in energizer batteries.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Episode 11: “The Chronicles of On-Line Dating”

On-line dating…where to begin?? Every day, there in my glitter covered inbox is a treat of an email just waiting for me to open it. What lies inside each one is a jewel of the inner workings of the male species, an insight of the male mind if you will. Below you will find the most random collection of emails I have received in my tenureship of the on-line dating revolution. These are actually emails, all spelling and grammatical errors have not been corrected….what fun would that have been?


Subject: hi
I like your pictures. You have amazing eyes. It seems we have similar interest. I’m a banker. I can assure you I’m know stiff. Maybe we can speak sometimes.

Subject:
So…..what do you do for youre job? Also your eyes are HUGE!

Subject: SO HAWT
ur the type of hottie that would make me stop playin around and wife up. We should make out.

Subject: You don’t look like a mess
You look a lot less psycho than most people on here, wanna grab coffee?

Subject: THIS IS RIDUCULOUS
I have sent you 3 emails, normally I don’t chase girls but you seemed normal, fun even but I guess I was wrong. I really hope this doesn’t have anything to do with my first email where I quoted the line from deliverance…..IT WAS A REFERENCE!! Apparently you can’t take a joke, which is fine if you are some stuck up Boston girl, who you said you weren’t, but I’m convinced that you are. You probably match your underwear (which is stuck up your ass) to your bra like the girls in that stupid girl movie.

I’ve moved on, in case you were wondering.

Subject: Charles River
I think I saw you running, well more like jogging the other day, not to be creepy or anything. A lot of girls have brown hair anyway it sort of looked like it could have been you. It was around 9am, was it you? I was the guy in the shorts and shirt running too.

Subject: I loved the Dress with the Flower
Email 1: really liked your profile! You seem funny and charming and witty. That’s not too common here in Boston. Tell me more about you
Reponse 1: Thanks!! Ask and I shall answer
Email 2: Have you ever been to prison? I sort of get that vibe from you.

Subject:
Have you seen any good comedies this year?

Subject: Quick Email
I was in Washington, DC a few weekends ago; hanging out with Peace Corps friends I served with and haven't seen in a few years, attended the Stephen Colbert / Jon Stewart rallies, and running the 10km they had that Sunday before heading back to Boston.

Then I came back to Boston and went to a concert. Also I like your profile and would like to call you.

Thanks for listening.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Episode 10: "The Letter"

Dearest Courtney

I hope your flowers make the trek back to Boston. If not- Do not despair, there will be others.

I love ranunculus and hope you do too. They are beautiful and delicate and rare and sweet and also damn hard to find (Long story-I’ll tell you later) Are you picking up on my analogy here? You, Courtney Lynn, you’re all those things and then some. I have thoroughly enjoyed your charming and electrifying company these past days.

The crystals are a sparking and magical prize dug from deep within the PA hills. (Following along?) Place them in a window or somewhere with plenty of sunlight or in a place where you have none at all and need some badly.

Take very good care Courtney
And thank you for being exactly you…… without compromise.

~The one that got away.

I received that letter at the security gate for my flight back to Boston. Mr. TOTGA had met me there to say good-bye with a package that contained a beautiful bouquet of flowers, crystals wrapped in linen, a bottle of aloe (for the insane burn I had received) and that letter, perfectly written on parchment complete with a wax seal.

Our story was simple: Boys see’s girl, girl doesn’t really notice boy, boy sends an email telling girl how she looked at him and it stopped his heart, girl is immediately swept off of her feet and the second she is back in town girl calls boy, they re-connect over sangria and the rest is history.

For lack of better words, he was a complete dork. The total opposite of my type but with the delivery of peonies in a miller lite beer pitcher left outside of my door one night, I didn’t know if I should laugh hysterically or present him with the “Most charming attempt to get my attention” award.

We would have been classified as a “long distance relationship” as realists we both knew that this could have never worked. The Romance of our story in that moment was much better than the fated end it was destined for.

The truth was we could have been amazing, but since we were two smart adults making an adult decision, we embraced, kissed and parted ways.

You could say he was my Aiden, and perhaps we will meet again one day in a market in Abu Dhabi.

Friday, November 5, 2010

Episode 9: “Going Rouge”

“That’s how the French do it my dear” the words barely made it in my ears and over the sound of my own lungs trying to catch my breath. I wasn’t sure what had happened or where I was, but I did know 2 things: 1. I was clearly in my room as I turned over and the sound of my air mattress was deafening and 2. That was the best night I had ever had…….ever.

A very wise, very fabulous gay man once told me that every woman should have an affair with a French man. I find most French men un-appealing. Generally they smell (of smoke and cabernet) and their arrogant nature turns me off quicker than a pair of mom jeans. The only thing going for them is the language. I have always loved a French accent and being able to understand it, well it does “that thing” to me……

“Vous avez de cils beaux” he whispered in my ear as we were dancing. I had one second to look up before he spinned me into a dip. I have always loved to spin, I thought to myself, and I always love a man who compliments my eyelashes. I felt myself blushing, swooning even but I couldn’t tell if it was the champagne or the accent.

The sun cast a sheer light over my bed as he was quietly packing his bag; I was wrapped up in his shirt which smelled of tobacco, V by Valentino and the rose we seemed to barrel though in my living room the evening before. His smile was warm and inviting and our conversation was candid. We spoke as if our acquaintance was lifelong and we were merely playing a game of catch up.

“I like the shirt on you” he said to me with a smile on his face, not in a “that shirt should be on the floor” way but in an utterly endearing way. I began to come to grips that I would have to say good bye to the crisp white button up. As I grabbed a cami and began the switch he looked up and said “Keep it” as if knowing that I could appreciate the fabric on a much deeper level than he ever could.

Our goodbye was cordial and the embrace seemed to linger long after his departure, I sat on my stoop and we watched our respective faces until we both faded in each other’s background.

I will probably never see him again, but I can offer up this one bit of advice; every woman should have an affair with a French man.

Monday, October 4, 2010

Episode 8: “The Urban Legend of Dating

We have all heard the stories, THE story to be exact, the one that makes single girls shutter with horror. I have been fortunate enough to never experience it, or know anyone first hand who has, however that all changed one dreary evening in Boston, let me set the stage;

Mr. Pretty Face approached me one night out on the town someplace between glass 4 of champagne and my first pickle back shot (if you don’t know what that is….Google it). I was teetering on my ridiculously high heels, and he happened to be standing next to me when I accidently flung my phone into his lap. After what I have been told was a good 20 minute conversation, he asked for my number. Since I was punch drunk off of his dimples that wouldn’t quit I happily obliged (did I mention that I actually gave him my card, and said, “Here’s where to look if you want to find me” Keepin it Classy.)

Like any normal human, now that he had my info he sure did find me, right on Facebook and when I got a random message from a ridiculously good looking man, I was SHOCKED to find out it was him asking for a date. Not that I can’t get a model looking dude, but come on…..something didn’t click, or had I overnight, perfected my game?? Hmmm.

We met at a trendy little resto in the South End and to my surprise he was even better looking in person then I remember and as we sat at our table in the corner and chatted away, it all started to make perfect sense. The conversation was about a 5 as he was talking on and on about his fraternity (basically at this point we are at a full count 3-2) and then he said “Yeah, I mean, me and my frat brothers would listen to lenny Kravitz I belong to you and just dance around, you know like on a Friday night….

STRIKE ONE! This would classify as “Things to never say to a female that you are trying to impress” I figured I would let this slide given it was a first offense.

We finished dinner and decided that we should head over to the Charlesmark Hotel, both on our way home and to partake in one more bevy before calling it quits. As the bartender approached us, I placed my order and then Mr. Pretty Face placed his:

“I’ll I have a Key Lime Martini….oh but wait, can you make sure that there is a graham cracker crust rim and that you also put just a dollop of whip cream on the top…Pretty Please!” He Then turns to me and says “I love this place, they always play the best techno”

STRRRRRIIIIKE TWO! The bartender glances at me; I back at him and decide to change my order to a patron on the rocks. We have officially crossed into Tequila Territory, and there is no way I am leaving this establishment sober. Mr. PF excuses himself to go to the bathroom and Bartender comes over “Soooo is he?” “I don’t know!?!?! You think?” “There is only one way to find out….”

And as Mr. Pretty Face came back to his seat he said “OMG, you have to see the treatment to the walls in the bathroom, AH.MAZ.ING, it reminds me of the shoes you were wearing the night we met” The Bartender, at this point pipes up and says: “and there it is” then proceeds to pour me a shot of Tequila.

STRRRRIIIIIKE 3, you’re out! Literally you are OUT, I am officially hauling you out of your “straight” pants and putting you in full body leather and glitter where you belong!

My name is Courtney, I have gone on a date with a gay man…..and survived…with the help of prescription meds and one damn good therapist.

Friday, May 14, 2010

Episode 7: “The Game”

Let’s get one thing straight, women have pretty strong intuition, mine has never steered me in the wrong direction. Have I chosen to ignore this sense at time?? Yes…..do I regret it?? Perhaps, but never have I ever been wrong. (Isn’t that a drinking game??)

One of my very good friends has finally met Mr. Too Good to Be True, we have all had a run it with this particular type of man, and she is the last to get on the bus. They have been dating for a short amount of time but to her, this could get serious and I was surprised when she asked me to have dinner with them. (as a rule of thumb in our crowd, no one meets anyone elses significant other until its exclusive) As we eased into the third course, I got this feeling, this pit in my stomach, but I couldn’t tell if it was intuition or the dozen Oysters I put down just 30 minutes prior….or the fact that I washed it down with not one, but 3 glasses of champagne.

On paper this guy was amazing for her. I have had the pleasure of listening to her go on and on and about how he cooks her dinner, makes her laugh, is successful, driven, inspirational, not to mention so very handsome and how he dates other girls. Oh in case you missed that last one what I meant to say was…..he dates other girls, and yes this was all unbeknownst to her.

I, like the rest of the 20 something’s on this planet happen to be addicted to Facebook, and how excited was I when I see Mr. TGTBT was friends with another one of our fabulous college girlfriends and when I inquired about they knew each other I was SHOCKED (not really, cue sarcastic shocked face) to find out that he picked her up one day a few months ago at some place that I wasn’t really listening to when she told me, she then went on and on and on about how he cooks her dinner, makes her laugh, is successful, driven, inspirational and not to mention so very handsome and since they just crossed the “exclusivity bridge” she wanted me to meet him.

I quickly found myself in the power play position, here I was knowing that this guy is playing both of my very smart, talented and educated friends and what was I going to do about it? The Answer: Nothing. I was going to do nothing; these girls are very smart and will figure out this situation on their own. I in the mean time will be hosting a quaint dinner party in honor of my dear friend and her new beau and what better way to celebrate then to invite some college girlfriends.

Checkmate.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Episode 6: “If It’s Too Good To Be True….Wait Until They Open Their Mouth”

I like to consider myself a lover of all men. I don’t discriminate; blond hair, brown hair, no hair, blue eyes, two eyes it doesn’t matter as I have a true appreciation for the Male Species. There is however is a special place in my heart for Mr. All American. You know exactly whom I’m referencing ladies; Blond Hair Blue Eyes, successful, Take Action type of guy, Crest White Smile with a touch of gentleman that stands at a dashingly height of 6ft……Ralph Lauren, EAT YOUR HEART OUT.

These types don’t come around very often and when they do, they usually have some sort of anorexic model thing hanging off of their arm (as if they couldn’t muster up the strength to hold that ridiculously oversized clutch AND their size negative 0 body at the same time.) so I was pretty taken aback when one of my friends suggested that her besty best was single, normal and the poster child for apple pie. She divulged about his successful career, his go get ‘em attitude, on and on and on and then came the photos; blond hair (check) blue eyes (check) 6ft (check)….”so what is wrong with him” I asked? “Probably the same thing as you”, she replied… “Well then touché.” Little did I know she was plotting the revenge of a lifetime.

Our mutual friend set up the exchange of numbers and I was surprised when I got a text just a short time later (for all you kids out there, that’s what adults do these days……text, God forbid you actually call anyone) and I had a date that following Tuesday Evening.

He promptly arrived at 8pm….just like a gentleman, I met him outside, he opened my door…..just like a gentleman, and then he opened his mouth…….

“so…haw’d cha like t’hose Facking Red Sahx huh?” thaaaats right folks I was sitting in a brand new ridiculously overpriced penis extension of a “cah” with Will Hunting….gag.me.with.a.spork. Apparently my dear friend never got over the fact that I accidently kicked her in the face during cheering practice. She got a nose job out of it; don’t know what the big deal was!

I figured if nothing else this would make for an interesting evening. I wasn’t sure what I was more in awe of; the fact that he actually did talk like that or the sheer volume in which he spoke, and every time I said “what?” he talked louder. NO I don’t need you to talk louder…I NEED YOU TO ANNUNCIATE!

Yes for the record he did order a “P.B.AH” and a shot of “Jeggah”, and yes for the record I ordered the same thing….when in Rome….or When out with Johnny Southie….HEY BAH-TENDAH ANOTHER ROUND!!! Yankees Suck!!(cue high 5)

Thursday, April 1, 2010

Episode 5: “You Can Walk the Walk, but can you Sext the Text?”

Mr. “I’m Too Sexy For My Text” came wafting in and out of my life quicker than that Prada Parfume I insisted on wearing for 1 whole week until I realized that it was a bad decision, a very bad, unpleasant decision. Too bad only one of them had a return policy.

Its times like these that I start to think I could be too picky, but in reality I’m looking for IT, I don’t want almost or maybe, and he fell somewhere in-between Hell to the No and OMG you’re kidding right?

First and foremost I have to say that I am a huge proponent for the sext game; there is nothing better than getting either the subtle little hot message in the middle of the day or the full out graphic text where every single word makes you sweat. This guy not only missed the mark he struck out before he even got up to bat.

Its fair game as far as I’m concerned with what you say and when you say it, but there is one important rule; for the love of God don’t be awkward, and always always always read before your send (I guess that’s two, but who’s counting?) . I thought maybe he was a newbie to the game, and I’m just being hard on him, but I was looking for enlightenment in a possible relationship and I sure got it, there it was in my inbox.

I like to read these kinds of messages in a slow fashion, taking in every word and every thought as if I can absorb the exact feelings of the sender and this started out at a 10 “The thought of sliding deep inside you makes me…….” And then I read the last word: “Smile” well technically he wrote “mile” but I assume he meant smile

I’m sorry, sphincter says what?? Really? Smile…..you couldn’t think of another anything to put in there??? Maybe that’s all he had seeing as he hadn’t performed the aforementioned activity, but COME ON! I can think of a plethora of nouns to insert into slot B and none of them are the word smile or mile for that matter

Unfortunately the horror didn't stop there, and I was slapped with a phrase that ended in “Mutual Pleasure” WHHHHATTTT? Is this the Harvard Theology Department of Stimulating Members of the Female Persuasion? I didn’t even know how to respond….mutual pleasure?? Please clarify…..on second thought don’t, as I have been scarred enough for one evening.

I like to consider myself reactive in every situation possible, but this left me speechless, literally I could not find the words to respond. So I didn’t but If I could turn back time, I would say “You had me until your silly little smiling game got out of hand; ring the bell, your down for the count…..NEXT!!!”

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Episode 4: “Yes, Just One”

I must admit, my job is pretty amazing; yes I work long hours, and sleeping is something I have only heard about and lord only knows when I had a regular eating schedule, but I have perks. One of those was cashed in this weekend as I had a site visit to Bermuda for a June wedding.

“Welcome to the Mandarin at Elbow Beach” ahhhh sweet words to my ears. I honestly could not have lucked out with a better event. Not only is the client AH.MAZ.ING, but were are hosting the wedding in utter paradise. I have never seen more beautiful water and the island is run by the British…..love me some accents.

As I checked in I was asked the question that is asked to every guest: “One Key or Two” my reply: “Just one please”. You would have thought I walked into a room full of Divos wearing a pair of last year flats.

“You don’t want two? What will your boyfriend use” (hmmm I thought I can’t even get a date, let alone a solid dating life that could potentially lead to monogamous relationship with a man who I could refer to as my boyfriend.) nope, just me…..just one. “Aww, but you’re so pretty”, you don’t have a boyfriend or husband” No, none of that (cue annoyed /embarrassed laughter) “well that’s too bad”

Is it?, I thought, Is it really too bad? The only bad thing about my situation is that I am face to face with a constant reminder that I am still single, still fabulous and still…..just one. Even on a tropical Island, I couldn’t escape the single girl complex.

I guess it didn’t really hit me until I walked into the Gardenia Suite (think the most amazing hotel room you have ever seen and times it by a pair of Christian Louboutins) and I suddenly realized that I am all alone, with no one to share it with and no one to call…….so what’s a girl do to?? I immediately got undressed, jumped on the bed, drew and AMAZING bath in this huge tub in the middle of my bathroom and ordered room service. Who needs a boyfriend when you have a gourmet hot dog a phone call away??

After my evening of “girly time” I had to remember that I was there for one important reason
So here’s to planning an amazing wedding, and waking up next to a British Accent……

Friday, March 12, 2010

Episode 3: “These Shoes Are Made For Walking…..or Hailing Taxi’s”

“So, how will your parents react to you being in relationship with a 46 year old man from Africa?”
*record scratch* cue choking sounds from inhaling a large piece of chocolate cake
“I’m sorry, did you say “in a relationship”…………..

Let’s back up the Train, Mr. International Man of Mystery made his debut in the cross walk of Huntington Ave one night in September. He was charming, polite and smoother than a freshly waxed pair of legs. I was simply walking to get some groceries as all that resided in my fridge was a bottle of miller lite, a wedge of unrecognizable cheese and some blueish stuff in a Tupperware container (it had been a very long summer)

I was walking in, he was walking out and found it appropriate to grab my arm, pull me close, whisper in my ear “you are so beautiful and seeing you made my week” and then gently kiss my blushed cheek.

SIDE NOTE: I know what you must be thinking…who falls for this, well I do, I have estrogen raging through my body, and of COURSE I was going to fall for that.

We moved out of the cross walk, he asked for my number, I obliged (see note above) and 30 minutes later I had a text in my inbox simply stating “you took my breath away, dinner on Saturday night?”

SIDE NOTE: as I’m reading that I’m actually grimacing. A full on gag face.

Mr. IMOM pulled out all of the tricks from the “How to Get Laid: A Step By Step Guide For The Modern Man” book and I like a woman who hadn’t been out with a man in a while, ate every last bit of it up. The conversation went from sports, politics and travel to my favorite subject, dessert and conveniently where we were had the “best chocolate cake” in Boston, and as I took that first luscious bite, home skillet had to spit out the line of all lines and ruin what could have been an orgasmic first bite……

“So, how will your parents react to you being in relationship with a 46 year old man from Africa?”
“I’m sorry, did you say “in a relationship (choke choke choke)”, and please explain the age thing, because I’m not quite understanding?”
“Well your 21 right, and I’m 46”
“Yeah only I’m actually 28”
“You’re 28!!”
“Wow, really this is happening, I need some air”

And as my hand just gets to the door I hear “so wait……does this mean were not in a relationship?!?!”

I may not have been wearing walking shoes that night (I rarely do), but I do know how to do one thing in 4 inch black velvet stillhettos….

TAXI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Monday, March 8, 2010

Episode 2: “You’ve Got Mail”

Coming to grips with the fact that I am in the middle of the on-line dating revolution has made me realize 3 things:
(1) Describing myself in 500 characters is easy.
I’m amazing, I Wear Heels every day, I like Hot Dogs, Oysters, Wine and Michael Jackson
(2) Guys describing themselves in 500 characters is Hilarious!
I want to know the real you, I like snuggling on the couch, laughing at inside jokes we create with each other, cooking on Sunday Mornings, taking you out for nice dinners on the town and pampering you like the woman you are (insert any additional cliché phrase that guys think girls want to hear)
(3) it’s not as easy as I thought

We all have the friends who are a walking commercial for the On-Line dating adds, I like every other single girl in the city was curious, I mean if Ellen “snobby McSnob-ster” can find Mr. “Crest Pro-Health White Smile, Business Savant, Amazing Golf Swing, Nicest Man You Ever Met” than I can surely find someone who I can sort of tolerate for a short amount of time.

Or so I thought…

At first it was an ego boost, I was getting “winks” left and right (I have no idea what they are or what purpose they serve, but it I liked it.) Then I woke up from my dream world and reality set in...was I so much of a freak that I had to turn to meeting people on line just to get a date?! There was only one cure for my on-set depression; wine with a floater of Jimmy Choo.

Soon, my daily email was flooded with all types of characters vying for my attention; unfortunately they all lacked the creative edge to consider a response. If I had to hear “you seem like a pretty and intelligent person and I think we have a lot in common” again I was going to gag. Then you had the opposite end of the spectrum where Mr. Bigdong69 resided, and FYI just because I have a deliverance reference in my profile does not mean that sending me an email with the title of “I’m going to make you squeal like a pig” is appropriate, in fact that is the opposite of appropriate. Good God, who are you?!?!

And then one day in mid December, there it was…. The perfect email; it was funny, witty, and he clearly took time to read through my profile. I found myself giggling like a school girl (which also triggers my gag reflex) and although he was from NY, I wanted to know more. We exchanged a few message, did the number swap and agreed to meet. Via email, he fit like a glass slipper. Of course we hit it off (home boy looked AH.MAZ.ING in a suit) and 3 glasses of Riesling later, we parted ways and I skipped the entire way home.

I was excited to get the text just 12 short hours later asking for a second date….. He would come to be known as McSport.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Episode 1: The Talk

I so wanted to start this blog on a good upbeat note, but then I decided what fun would THAT be!!

It finally happened, it was just like in the movies; the phone rang it was McSport and he sputtered out the all too common phrase of “I think you’re a great girl, but I don’t see this going anywhere” (girls this means “I like sex, and I like sex with you, I just don’t like YOU) UGH! I had survived 28 years without this ever being said to me and here I was cellular face to cellular face with the phrase from hell on my Sunday night.

This had been 2 months in the making, I had met his friends, we had spent New Year’s together, and we had great sex, amazingly hot and steamy uninhibited sex. Unfortunately we didn’t have anything else, and by that I mean, to him I did have anything else. The truth is he made me laugh and he gave me butterflies but apparently an OCD, hotter than hell (I had to give myself some props) classically trained in French Horn, party planner with a closet full of shoes wasn’t his type.

I thought this was it, maybe not the one, maybe not love, but closer than I have been in a long time and here he was giving me “the talk” and let’s not forget the clinch last line of “I don’t want to sound cliché, but I have a great time with you so don’t be a stranger, I’m up for drinks or whatever (aka, anytime you want to hook up, I’m here)” my response “EAT SHIT” my real response; “yeah, would love to, I’ll keep that in mind.” Paging Courtney’s balls……anyone seen them?

What happens next is pretty cloudy, I think I stopped breathing only to impede any tears from forming, to which I said, “Ok, sooo not really sure what to say, but High 5, cool…..yeah
High 5?!?!?! Who am I? Kimmy Gibbler?? GAWD pull yourself together girl!

I immediately did what any girl would do, got in my hottest dress, opened a bottle of wine, decided that was a bad idea, promptly closed the bottle of wine, took out a box of velveta shells and cheese, put back said box of no good caloric wasteland, sat on the kitchen floor and cried…..and then…..I put on Gaga and I danced. 1 hour and 16 songs later I was exhausted, sweaty and void of any emotional ties.

Our little, we shouldn’t see each other anymore conversation on Sunday didn’t stop him from sending out the booty call on Monday night, and that didn’t stop me from answering it-a girls got her needs and a Monday Night sex sesh was just the thing for a Tuesday pick me up.