Sunday, April 29, 2007

Le Freak

I try really really hard to be normal and to seem normal. Normal to my friends. Normal to my bosses. Normal to GD.

The thing is, I don't think I am. I have issues. And I think everyone, on some level, has issues. In other words, everyone is fucked up in some way due to some experience (example: having been cheated on) or predisposition (example: having a history of depression).

Right now, I am trying really hard to be normal, and to not let my insecurities or neuroses ruin my thing with GD. A girlfriend and I once joked that in the beginning of a courtship, a girl has to hide her craziness. Act normal, easy-going and collected. Lull him into a false sense of security. Once the guy becomes hopelessly attached and/or in love, then the girl can reveal her true craziness, and by then, it's too late for him to "escape."

Not that I'm trying to "hide" my craziness. I'm trying to just stop it. Erase it. Make it go away. But after numerous failed relationships, a gal will inevitably accumulate certain irrational fears. Right now I'm afraid that these irrational fears--i.e., the things that make me not perfectly normal--will sabotage any relationship I have. And even if they don't sabotage the relationship in the first place, later on they'll be revealed. Then GD will see my flaws and imperfections and freak factors in their naked glory, shake my hand, say "it was nice meeting you," and bolt. It's probably analogous to the horror of a child witnessing Mickey Mouse take off his costumed-head and see that it's just a 43 year old man beneath the suit, that there is no Mickey Mouse, and that it was all a colorful illusion.

Like I said, I have issues.

A couple friends have said to me "Just calm down. Chill out. Be 'whatever' about things." In other words, "Don't get crazy." That's probably as effective as walking into a psych ward and announcing on the P.A.: "Okay schizophrenics, manic depressants, bipolars and multiple personalities: Stop being crazy."

I guess there's no point in mulling over it. I can only do my best, right? Right. I'm just hoping that'll be good enough.

Thursday, April 26, 2007

To be real

Funny. GD and I recently talked about our first date, and he said he wasn't sure if I liked him. He said he wasn't getting that "vibe." Isn't that hilarious? So funny how gals and guys never know what the other side is thinking.

He hashed out a couple of theories on my dating patterns, which I found amusing. One thing is that he suspects that I'm a player. A player. At first, he seemed to be joking about it, but then he brought it up a couple more times. I laughed and asked him why on earth he thought that. Apparently, the fact that I hadn't been in a long-term relationship in a few years struck him as odd. It seems that the only logical explanation was that I was not looking for a relationship and that instead I was looking to play the field.

I think my blog clearly evidences the fact that for the past couple of years or so, there have been no dateable men. The guys I've met have fallen into one of three categories: (1) normal guys with whom I had no chemistry, (2) lamos, or (3) players. "Finding a great guy to date is like finding a needle in a haystack," I explained to GD. He didn't seem to buy that explanation. He really thinks my being woefully single for the past few years was a conscious choice.

Another observation he made is that I seem jaded about guys. To some extent, this is true. I do hope for the best, but every time I meet a seemingly nice guy, something goes awry. He'll try to get me drunk and screw me on the second date. He'll bite my face while kissing. He'll have no respect for women.

GD observed, "Hmm. It'll take some time before I'll earn your trust, huh?" At first, I didn't think so. But I have to admit, one of the scariest things is to be vulnerable. To put yourself out there and have faith that the guy will not break your heart. I've luckily never had my heart truly broken. But I've been hurt, and it sucks.

So far, GD seems great. And it's weird. I mean, really really weird. He calls when he says he will. He asks me to hang out regularly. He'll offer to pick me up from work just to see me. He has not tried to get me drunk to get into my pants. Plus he's very good-looking and likes to cuddle. I mean, what the hell is going on here?!

So I'm not sure. Either he is an ingenious, crafty, diabolical player. Or he's for real.

Monday, April 23, 2007

Romance is in the air

I was sitting in GD's car as we drove down the freeway. The sunroof was open, the windows were down, and I sat there, basking in the warm weather and the feeling of GD's arm resting next to mine on the armrest. His stereo was playing a mix CD. After hearing Smack That by Akon, 99 Problems [but a Bitch Ain't One] by Jay Z, and then Shake that Ass by Eminem, I turned reverently to GD, placed my hand on his, and said, "These lyrics are so romantic." What girl can resist the eloquent poetry of Akon, who assures his bitch that he will "Smack that, til you get sore," or Nate Dog's proclamation, "I get more ass than a toilet seat"?

GD laughed and said, "Yes, I'm trying to win you over."

As Eminem lilted, "Looking for a couple bitches with some double D's," I clasped GD's hand and sighed, "Oh yes, you are winning me over."

He immediately changed the CD.

Sunday, April 22, 2007

Meeting the friends

So I had another great date with Great Date. We pretty much spent all of Saturday together, where I met a bunch of his friends. One of my cardinal rules is to be friendly and easy-going towards a guy's friends. Too many times I hear of girls who are standoffish towards their guys' friends, and then the guys' friends end up not liking the girl, which of course causes problems. This is particularly true with the guy's gal pals, where a girl will be bitchy towards the gal pals, and all conclude that the girl is catty.

Of course, I don't sit at home and strategize on how I can manipulate people into liking me. It's just a general policy of mine to be nice to people, especially to a guy's friends.

I already like meeting new people, so it's not so much of an effort being friendly towards Great Date's (GD) friends. And like GD, his friends were pretty funny and easy-going, so it wasn't hard at all chatting and joking around with them. GD told me later on that evening that at one point, when I went to the ladies' room, he asked his boys what they thought of me. They said they liked me and told him to "go for it." While I know that I shouldn't put too much stock into what a guy's friends think of me, I have to admit I felt both flatttered and relieved to know they liked me.

Later on I met GD's other friends, including some girls, and again I chatted away with them. One girl, after she and I did a shot together, leaned behind me and said to GD, "I like her!" which of course made me laugh.

Meeting GD's friends and just seeing how cool they all were somehow made GD look all the more attractive to me. Can you tell a lot about a guy from who his friends are? I'm not sure. But if his friends are any indication of what kind of guy GD is, I'll have little to worry about.

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

My phobia

Many people suffer from the debilitating effects of phobias. Symptoms include sweating, shortness of breath, and chest pain, to name a few. Fears can range from Arachnophobia, the common fear of spiders, to Arachibutyrophobia, the more obscure fear of having peanut butter stick to the roof of your mouth.

I think I have a fear of very attractive guys, which apparently is missing from the Phobia List. There is the fear of staying single, Anuptaphobia, and the fear of the opposite sex, Heterophobia. But no fear of very attractive guys.

I experience the debilitating symptoms when near a very attractive guy. Sweating, shortness of breath and chest pain. I mean, I literally feel my throat dry and my chest tighten. "He's just a person, a human being," I have to remind myself, "he blinks, he yawns, he brushes his teeth...he is human!"

So I have been in contact with Great Date since our great date, and maybe it's precisely because of the great date, but I perceive Great Date to be one of those very attractive guys. And that makes me nervous. Thus far, I've had negative experiences with very attractive guys. They all know they're good looking, they know they're rare, they know they can get virtually any chick they want, and they know they can get away with having little or no personality.

So far, Great Date seems like a genuinely nice guy. And I'm bracing myself for something bad to happen. I worry as to whether Great Date actually likes me or if I turned him off by some inadvertent faux pas. The Naysayer assures me that Great Date does like me (unlike Non Emailer); otherwise, GD wouldn't be calling me and asking me to hang out like he is. Still though. A nagging thought persists: He is just too attractive for me. He could get any girl, specifically girls ten times prettier than I am. Now I know I'm not an abomination of nature, but I ain't Jessica Alba. Why me? Could it be -- he likes me for my personality?

No, can't be.

Maybe it's like that Twilight Zone episode where there's this alternate universe where all the beautiful people were considered hideous and all the people you and I would perceive as deformed were considered beautiful. Maybe Great Date is from that universe? I can hear the Naysayer voice right now saying "You're being stupid."

Anyhow, I'm going to just go with the flow and not worry about it. Because, as everyone knows, I never worry.

Sad headline

So I am reading all the headlines on the Virginia Tech killings, and it just makes me really really sad. I was on the Times' website and I saw the "interactive" page they made on each of the victims. I clicked on the first one, Ross Alameddine, and as soon as I started reading about him, I started tearing up and immediately clicked on the "Back" button of my browser. There's a difference between reading the words "33 victims" and seeing a picture of a 20-year-old sophomore and realizing that this person had a whole life story and was shot to death two days ago.

I also note that every headline on the incident makes reference to the shooter being South Korean. I have to admit, I got a little scared after noticing that my brother bears some resemblance to the shooter--this, in addition to the notion that "all Asians look the same." Given the retaliation against any remotely Arab-looking person after 9/11 and even the stupider incidents of murdering stingrays after one stingray killed the Crocodile Hunter, I worry for the bespectacled Asian guys out there who may seem on the quiet side, like my brother.

Margaret Cho, in her blog, asserts that "so much attention is focused on the Asian-ness of the shooter." I don't know if I would go that far. Granted, no one just says "shooter." They say "South Korean shooter." That's probably because the default race in America is white, unless otherwise noted. But (so far) I haven't yet seen discussions on limiting immigration or quarantining Koreans; if anything, it reignites the discussion on gun control. At any rate, I hope that people don't retaliate against Asians, especially given that some of the victims were of Asian descent.

It's just a very sad incident. I can't even imagine. My condolences to the bereaved.

Thursday, April 12, 2007

Going down

The elevator doors opened and I walked in. A blonde woman stood on my left, and a young man stood in the corner on my right. I walked to the back left corner of the elevator as the doors closed. A few floors later, the doors opened and another woman walked in. I noticed she was a redhead. So three women, a blonde, a brunette, and a redhead, occupied three corners of the elevator. The young man stood alone in his corner.

Then I thought of the question that any girl who hasn't gotten any in a really long time would think of: Could we take him?

I mean, not literally sexually attack him. Okay yes I do mean that. No, just kidding, what I mean is, could we take him? Could we stop the elevator, jump on top of him, pin him on the ground, and laugh at him because three chicks just took him down? The greatest weapon against an opponent--even greater than sheer force--is the element of surprise. At least that's what they said in that movie "Air Force One."

As the elevator descended, I looked to Blonde and Redhead, but neither returned my glance. I could sense the uneasiness of the guy next to me. Perhaps he could sense his impending demise. Perhaps he became aware of the fact that he was outnumbered and that no one would hear his cries for help in the long cavernous elevator shaft. Or maybe he was just weirded out by this Asian chick staring at him maniacally.

Lucky for him, we reached the ground level before my mind could plot further. And not surprisingly, he scurried past us three ladies before any of us could even move. Either he's incredibly ungentlemanly, or he knew he was going down.

Girls girls girls

Some girls and I will be having some bachelorette festivities for a college pal this weekend. She is not the party-type of girl, so we'll be doing the elegant classy city thing, such as having tea and biscuits at a tea house, getting manicures/pedicures, and dining in a nice restaurant in the aptly located meatpacking district. These activities are then followed by renting girly girl movies such as "The Notebook" and "Pretty Woman." Unlike my other college friend's bachelorette party, debauchery, vomit-inducing intoxication, and scantily clad men will be kept to a minimum.

It's been a while since a bunch of us got together. There's perhaps nothing like having a bunch of girls together to celebrate a friend's departure from singlehood into the state of matrimony.

Though I have to admit I wouldn't mind receiving a lap dance or two.

Random quotes

For those of you who hate "Sex and the City" and/or are sick of me quoting from it every other day, my apologies. I do realize that there is a world outside of S&tC, that it is indeed a fictional television program, and that my life is not nearly as glamorous, as sexually exciting, nor as stocked with Manolo Blahniks as the girls on that show.

That being said. For some peculiar reason, the following S&tC quotes come into my head at the moment:

"It's like the guys you have the great second date with and then never hear from again. I pretend they died."


"And if he never calls me again, I'll always think of him an asshole."

Totally random, I know.

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

Great unexpectations

They say things happen when you least expect it. Falling in love. Winning the lottery. Finding a ten dollar bill in your coat pocket.

For me, it was having a really really really good date. This was last night.

No, it wasn't Consultant. And it definitely wasn't Non Emailer. It was another guy I happened to meet at the friend of a friend's friend's get together. Clearly, I had no big expectations regarding this guy, so little in fact that I neglected to even mention him in my blog. At the get together, he asked for number and later on called me to ask me to dinner. I needed something to take the edge off of my self-induced obsession over Non Emailer, so I said sure. And I ended up having one of the best dates in a really long time.

A few key traits:

1) He had initiative.
He called me only a couple days after I gave him my number. He asked me to dinner. None of this "Can I get your email and I may or may not email you" bull ish.

2) He was a gentleman.
He opened the door for me when we went to the restaurant. When we walked to his car, he would walk ahead so he could open my door for me, wait until I got in, and close the door for me. He always asked for my opinion before ordering an appetizer or dessert. I know this seems like common sense, but sadly, it isn't.

3) He was a good conversationalist.
He did not recite his resume to me or dominate the conversation about how this one time he and his buddies toilet-papered this dude's house. It was an engaging conversation. He asked me questions about myself and actually listened and followed up with more questions. And we talked about silly things (e.g., how our alcoholic beverage of choice depends on whether or not we want to remember things the next day) and more interesting things (e.g., traveling in Latin America). There were very little, if any, awkward pauses.

4) He was, and made me feel, comfortable.
I really felt like I could be myself. I didn't need to get buzzed to feel comfortable. I didn't worry over whether he was a playa. I didn't get any sketchy vibe from him. Most importantly, I didn't feel like I had to be "on." I could just be, and he could just be, and it felt great.

5) He made me laugh.
'Nuff said.

During the date, he had asked me if I wanted to go to this thing with him on Saturday, but I already had plans with some girls. Otherwise, I would have been totally down with it. The thing is, if this had been any other guy, the notion of seeing a guy twice in one week after just meeting him would suffocate me or creep me out. But with this guy, I was thinking, sure, why not? It'd be fun. And I know it would be.

So yes, needless to say, I was (and still am) incredibly shocked at how well the date went. It ended pleasantly. We gave our little "I had a great time"-spiels, and I (perhaps out of nervousness) just nodded, said goodbye, and just hopped out of the car. Is it bad if there's no hug or kiss? It's only the first date!

So we'll see what happens. It's only been 1 whole day since I've seen him, and I'm wondering if/when he's going to call me. I mean, chemistry can't be one-sided, can it? I don't think he'd suggest meeting up again unless he was mildly interested in me.

It's quite interesting that having a good time with a normal, nice guy is so rare and most of all, unexpected.

Monday, April 09, 2007

Adding insult to injury to insult to injury

I'd like to delve into all the details of Saturday night's party, but I won't. Suffice it to say that, in direct violation of the Naysayer's order that I not pay any attention to Non Emailer, I did. A lot of attention. But only in response.

I had every intention of staying true to the course. Play it cool yet friendly. But every so often during the evening, I'd end up chatting away with Non Emailer, just me and Non Emailer. At one point, as we sat alone in someone's room, he asked me if I was interested in Consultant. It turned out that Non Emailer and Consultant knew each other and were friendly acquaintances. I of course evaded the question by asking him why he was so curious. He said he "just wanted to know." I asked him if Consultant put him up to this. And he said no, he was just curious. I commented that Consultant "seemed like a nice guy." Yet Non Emailer insisted on a yes or no response. After a while, emboldened by Jose Cuervo and feeling particularly flirty, I jokingly asked him if he was jealous. This time he evaded the question.

That evening we covered a sleugh of topics. We talked a lot that night alone, and as the night progressed, we did get a bit affectionate--he put his arm around my waist, he rested his head on my shoulder, he threw his legs over mine. In case anyone is wondering, nothing substantive happened in the end, i.e., we didn't make out or hook up. (Admittedly, this may have been because I had to get a ride home with my gal pal.)

The next day, I speed-dialed the Naysayer to report the details of that night's events. At which point, I could literally discern the sound of him smacking his forehead.


I was confused. I thought the Naysayer would be happy for me. Delight in my newfound attention from Non Emailer. "I know, but he was being flirty back, see?" I said hopefully. "He put his arm around my waist--"

"He doesn't like you!"

"But why was he flirty with me?"

"Because he just wants to get LAID."


"Yellow Gal, you need to move on. The guy has more than one occasion expressed a complete lack of interest in you. Come on!" To the Naysayer's credit, this is true. I haven't reported all incidents of humiliation on my blog, which I know is hard to believe. But there have been others.

Apparently, according to The Game, one of the tactics a guy can use to bed a chick is to pay absolutely no attention to her for the first twenty minutes of meeting her, and meanwhile pay attention to her friends, the homeless lady on the sidewalk, the two-headed monster at the bar, everyone except the target fuck. During those twenty minutes, the target will wonder, "Why doesn't he like me? What's wrong with me? Am I ugly? Guys usually like me. Wow he's so elusive..." At which point, the guy suddenly begins to pay attention to her. This new attention is then well-received by the chick, which she misinterprets as being well-earned attention from an elusive guy, and the guy gets laid.

I had read The Game when the Naysayer brought it along with him when he visited me. I only understood it in the short term context, not the long term context. But it kind of made sense. A guy shows no interest in a girl for a while. It's patently painfully obvious the girl likes him (again, humiliating incidents omitted from my blog). Later on, the guy wants to get some. Here's an easy target. It's so simple.

As the Naysayer pounded this into my head, I began to feel deflated. And so stupid. Yes, a part of me clings to the hope that he likes me, that I did "win" him over with my witty personality and hip-hugging jeans. But I have to admit, if he did like me, he would have called me, emailed me, asked me out--something. Because, well, that's what guys do when they like girls. Especially when the girl gives the guy a blaring, blinding green light.

But he hasn't. So like the Naysayer said. It's time to move on. And I'm on it. Really, I am.

Saturday, April 07, 2007

Parties are fun

So it appears that Non Emailer and I run in similar circles of friends. Friday night, a friend of a friend's friend had a get together at a bar. As soon as I walked in the door, I saw him standing there, a brown bottle of beer in his hand, donned in a white button-up shirt and grey slacks. He seemed to be laughing at a joke that was very very funny. I closed my eyes and thanked god that I decided to blow-dry my hair that morning and wear a push-up bra.

As I made my way around the party, I chatted away with everyone, gals, guys, the host, the waiters. Eventually, I deigned to chat with Non Emailer. He was his usual friendly self. At one point, during our platonic prattle, a guy I had chatted with earlier--a cute consultant who also worked downtown--approached me.

"Hey there," he said, smiling at me.

"Hi," I said, smiling back, turning slightly from Non Emailer. I could see Non Emailer look to me and then to him. Consultant didn't notice Non Emailer.

"Look," Consultant said, "there's something I want to ask you."

"Okay," I said.

"I was wondering if I could take you out to dinner some time," he said.

I kind of stood there for a second, stunned, because I had never had a guy just ask me out like that so unabashedly, so openly.

"Um," I stammered, "Sure!"

"Cool, can I get your number?"

"Sure," I said. Consultant flipped open his phone for me and I entered my digits as a new cell phone entry. Out of the corner of my eye, I could discern Non Emailer drinking his beer.

"Cool," he said, "I'll call you."

"Great," I said, smiling, and turned back to Non Emailer.

Now the questions on everyone's mind are: Did Non Emailer fly into a fit of jealousy? Was he utterly offended that Consultant disrespected him like that? Did he confess his undying like for me, admit that he had that epidemic fear of intimacy and that he was scared, especially of me, because I was so different from all the other girls, and that was the true reason he never emailed me?

Or, did he blink blankly and drink his beer the same way he would observing a fly buzz around a piece of bread?

The answer, unfortunately, is obvious.

Now despite the fact that Non Emailer has absolutely no interest in me, I still couldn't help but feel a teeny bit satisfied that a guy hit on me in front of him. And Consultant was cool in his own right. He was certainly a notch above the recent batch of guys who have shown any interest me, which include various homeless people, construction workers, and the seventy-year-old janitor who works on my floor.

Anyhow, it ended up being a late night. Towards the end of the night, Non Emailer mentioned to me and my gal pal a party his friend was throwing. He invited us along, and anyone else who wanted to come. Ironically, the next day, for the first time ever, he emailed me at my personal email address--along with my friend--the party details. Well, better late than never.

So we're going. I suspect that Non Emailer will be surrounded by his entourage of "boyz" and lipsticked girls, while I stand on the periphery, trying to play it cool and pretend I'm interested in other guys.

It'll be fun. I'm sure.

Sunday, April 01, 2007

Strange strangers

One of the great things about living in a big city is the running commentary you receive from complete strangers. They vary greatly in substance, yet little in eloquence.

For example, this morning I left my apartment to go to Starbucks, when I beheld an old homeless lady ahead of me mumbling nonsensically. As I walked right by her, I heard her say something scathingly to me that ended with the words ringing in my ear, "you damn bitch." I continued to walk, and came to a traffic light that just turned yellow, which I always interpret to mean "run before the light turns red." As I ran across the street, an irate cab driver leaned on his horn at me for about ten straight seconds (his light was also yellow). I held my hand up as I ran in front of his car and he leaned out of his window to inform me that I was a "fucking bitch."

All of this occurred in the span of ten minutes.

Of course, I consider these comments with the other commentary from complete strangers, the kind that any female with two legs and a pulse will receive walking down the street in a large city, ranging from "How you doing, sexy?" to "Damn girl I wanna eat you up!"

What is it about the city that disinhibits people to be so candid? Is it the close quarters that lead to an openness that allows bums and cab drivers and construction workers to comment on whether you're a bitch or damn fine? Perhaps the excess carbon monoxide from all the traffic has an effect on people's social boundaries. It's a very interesting phenomenon, one that I suspect doesn't exist in suburbs or small towns.

At any rate, while I grow more and more desnsensitized to the randomness of strangers, I will be rest assured that I'm somewhere between a fucking bitch and a sexy fine thing.
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