Let's call her Madeline. Blonde curly hair, slim and petite, and considered pretty by many accounts. Born of British and French parents, educated in Swiss boarding schools and ivy league college, fluent in 3 languages and smart as hell.
While she's been very nice to me, she reminds me of those bitches I went to boarding school with, believing they're holier than thou. Full of criticism of anyone they think is inferior to them, and make no hesitate to state it outloud. The only way I could put up with them and Madeline is because I know their deep dark secret: they're full of criticism of themselves, too.
How The Athlete is friends with her, I don't totally understand, but I have to admit it knocks him down a few notches.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Thursday, May 20, 2010
When I want it, I really want it
I really should listen to my friends, who all see the signs. Shit, I see the signs, and yet they don't deter me. Is it some neurosis some women get after they get some after so long and then can't get it anymore? I saw that happen recently with a girlfriend of mine and it started to sound ridiculous. Maybe it's karma.
We had our big company meeting the other day and I did see him at the reception afterwards. I was on my way over to him to say hello but the got caught in a conversation with my old boss and a few other cute 40-something male colleagues at this table. Ooops, just my luck. =)
Yesterday morning I got a bug up my butt to try something kind of fun. I used the hotel stationery to create an interesting invitation that I hoped he wouldn't be able to resist. Unfortunately, he did.
We had our big company meeting the other day and I did see him at the reception afterwards. I was on my way over to him to say hello but the got caught in a conversation with my old boss and a few other cute 40-something male colleagues at this table. Ooops, just my luck. =)
Yesterday morning I got a bug up my butt to try something kind of fun. I used the hotel stationery to create an interesting invitation that I hoped he wouldn't be able to resist. Unfortunately, he did.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Freshly Waxed and No One to Do
Question: At what age does sex cease becoming a priority?
I'm back on the West Coast this week and of course I contacted The Athlete to set aside some time. All he could spare was Monday evening, and he calls me a busy bee! Since I didn't arrive until Saturday and i had class all day, Monday was my first chance for my maintenance bikini wax, right before meeting him, but I figured I could pull through, especially if a cocktail would be involved.
I also had to stop over the local toy shop (the classy kind, that specializes in serving women and couples and discourages creepy men) for a few supplies (which I was hoping he'd get to enjoy). We met at a bar afterwards and enjoyed a nice, cordial dinner. Our company's big annual meeting is today and we both have early-morning meetings today, his at 9 and mine at 7:30. It was obviously going to be an early evening and while I didn't quite have anything specific in mind, maybe a quickie, he apparently had nothing and pretty much called it a night as we left the bar and walked in our respective directions sharing only a few blocks to continue our conversation.
Fuck! Frustrated and prepared for what could have been an especially fun evening, I decided to call him and invite myself over, but no, he decided to be good and do some prep-work for the big meeting. Fucking discipline. Where the hell are your priorities?
I'm back on the West Coast this week and of course I contacted The Athlete to set aside some time. All he could spare was Monday evening, and he calls me a busy bee! Since I didn't arrive until Saturday and i had class all day, Monday was my first chance for my maintenance bikini wax, right before meeting him, but I figured I could pull through, especially if a cocktail would be involved.
I also had to stop over the local toy shop (the classy kind, that specializes in serving women and couples and discourages creepy men) for a few supplies (which I was hoping he'd get to enjoy). We met at a bar afterwards and enjoyed a nice, cordial dinner. Our company's big annual meeting is today and we both have early-morning meetings today, his at 9 and mine at 7:30. It was obviously going to be an early evening and while I didn't quite have anything specific in mind, maybe a quickie, he apparently had nothing and pretty much called it a night as we left the bar and walked in our respective directions sharing only a few blocks to continue our conversation.
Fuck! Frustrated and prepared for what could have been an especially fun evening, I decided to call him and invite myself over, but no, he decided to be good and do some prep-work for the big meeting. Fucking discipline. Where the hell are your priorities?
Thursday, May 13, 2010
I'm not desperate, really
. . . but I had to ask a boy out. Handsome, smart, appears stable, totally my type. Probably married, but just in case, I had to put the feelers out. He helped me with a post I was working on for a blog and, well, I'd like to thank him properly. ;-)
Let's see if he responds. Wish me luck.
Let's see if he responds. Wish me luck.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Caved In
OK, so I caved in. I've signed up for Match.com. It was part of an effort to forget The Athlete. Who the hell's The Athlete? He's basically the first guy I've dated since my divorce almost 2 years ago. Well, maybe second. And no, he's not an athlete, but he does like sports, doesn't really play sports, but he likes watching sports. I don't know why I feel inspired to give him that nickname, maybeto throw off his identity a bit. No, he's not famous, but I should keep his anonymity so I can be as candid as possible on this blog. I guess that also means I should withhold my identity, too. And no, I'm not famous. Perhaps infamous.
But I digress. I've been sorta-kinda dating The Athlete since Valentine's Day. I don't know if you'd call that a date, but it was the first time we actually hung out. First time we really had a conversation in fact. We've sort of known each other for years. OK, maybe we've just seen each other around the office. I've known who he was and I guess he knew who I was, not much more beyond that.
And then...
Last year, we ran into each other when I was helping a colleague set up food for a team lunch. He stopped over and asked what it was, was familiar with the restaurant, and I had him help himself. I didn't realize how cute he was, I mean really cute. Like "how did I not notice you before?" kind of cute. And since then, I did whatever I could to run into him, which unfortunately was rare.
We ran into each other in the kitchen once. Actually, I busted him fishing around the candy bowl for the highly coveted Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. I teased him about it and it turned into an extended conversation about food and sweets and bacon and whatever small talk we could muster. But yes, bacon turned into the primary topic of our conversation. Perhaps not so special since bacon tends to be the primary topic of most of my conversations, if I can help it.
So Saturday night, February 13 rolls around and I was home packing away for an extended business trip when I got an email from The Athlete, that he was thinking of me because he had just gotten back from a conference in Southern California and had bacon every day. Hmmmm, interesting. Maybe the normal gal would find it insulting, but I reveled in it. Yes, I do love my swine. We ended up emailing each other for the next 3 hours, discussing not just bacon, but the Olympics and how I had seen on Twitter that something cool was going to happen at Apolo Ohno's speedskating event (unintended spoilers from the spoilers East Coasters) and so we watched somehow together, but over email, and eventually asked about other interests besides bacon, the Olympics and washing our hair.
Fuck it. I decided to stop beating around the bush and told him that the conversation had me craving bacon (ooh, if that's not an invitation for some naughty pun, I don't know what is) and invited him out to breakfast at one of my secret spots. How does one refuse such an invitation. I mean, I'm apparently known for my culinary cravings and am often asked for advice on places to eat. There are, however, a few choice locations that I do keep to myself because sometimes, I just don't want to run into people, especially on the occasional weekend morning when I just want to roll out of bed and get a good breakfast. And rarely, when the stars get aligned just right and I'm in the right mood, I will extend an invitation to a select friend. So I did.
But I digress. I've been sorta-kinda dating The Athlete since Valentine's Day. I don't know if you'd call that a date, but it was the first time we actually hung out. First time we really had a conversation in fact. We've sort of known each other for years. OK, maybe we've just seen each other around the office. I've known who he was and I guess he knew who I was, not much more beyond that.
And then...
Last year, we ran into each other when I was helping a colleague set up food for a team lunch. He stopped over and asked what it was, was familiar with the restaurant, and I had him help himself. I didn't realize how cute he was, I mean really cute. Like "how did I not notice you before?" kind of cute. And since then, I did whatever I could to run into him, which unfortunately was rare.
We ran into each other in the kitchen once. Actually, I busted him fishing around the candy bowl for the highly coveted Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. I teased him about it and it turned into an extended conversation about food and sweets and bacon and whatever small talk we could muster. But yes, bacon turned into the primary topic of our conversation. Perhaps not so special since bacon tends to be the primary topic of most of my conversations, if I can help it.
So Saturday night, February 13 rolls around and I was home packing away for an extended business trip when I got an email from The Athlete, that he was thinking of me because he had just gotten back from a conference in Southern California and had bacon every day. Hmmmm, interesting. Maybe the normal gal would find it insulting, but I reveled in it. Yes, I do love my swine. We ended up emailing each other for the next 3 hours, discussing not just bacon, but the Olympics and how I had seen on Twitter that something cool was going to happen at Apolo Ohno's speedskating event (unintended spoilers from the spoilers East Coasters) and so we watched somehow together, but over email, and eventually asked about other interests besides bacon, the Olympics and washing our hair.
Fuck it. I decided to stop beating around the bush and told him that the conversation had me craving bacon (ooh, if that's not an invitation for some naughty pun, I don't know what is) and invited him out to breakfast at one of my secret spots. How does one refuse such an invitation. I mean, I'm apparently known for my culinary cravings and am often asked for advice on places to eat. There are, however, a few choice locations that I do keep to myself because sometimes, I just don't want to run into people, especially on the occasional weekend morning when I just want to roll out of bed and get a good breakfast. And rarely, when the stars get aligned just right and I'm in the right mood, I will extend an invitation to a select friend. So I did.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Birth, Or Rebirth
Greetings from about 35,000 feet in the air. Yes, I'm writing this post as this Boeing jet takes me and my furry companion eastward to our new home in Washington, DC.
I'm super-excited, this has been a long time coming. I've been in love with the town for as long as I could remember. In fact, I think my romance may have started when I was a kid watching Heartburn with Jack Nicholson and Meryl Streep. I remember the scene when they first met and her pick-up line that she recognized him from Meet the Press. I thought that sounded so cool (ya, okay, I was a bit of a nerd growing up) and since then, I became a regular viewer of the show. Actually, maybe it was the movie, Broadcast News, during the first date between Holly Hunter and William Hurt. I just thought it was so romantic and glamorous to dress up for a party at an embassy with the backdrop of one of the monuments. Maybe that's why I'm moving to DC, to experience dating in what I consider one of the most romantic cities in the world. I've been working in DC pretty regularly the last 6 months and I fall in love with the town more and more every time.
I feel like John Hurt's character, Quentin Crisp in An Englishman in New York when he arrived in New York. Feeling like as soon as he saw the city, he wanted it. That its streets were the closest thing to Heaven on earth and that walking on them wasn't about "scurrying from shadow to shadow," but striding down the middle, "on display."
I don't stride, here. I strut.
I'm super-excited, this has been a long time coming. I've been in love with the town for as long as I could remember. In fact, I think my romance may have started when I was a kid watching Heartburn with Jack Nicholson and Meryl Streep. I remember the scene when they first met and her pick-up line that she recognized him from Meet the Press. I thought that sounded so cool (ya, okay, I was a bit of a nerd growing up) and since then, I became a regular viewer of the show. Actually, maybe it was the movie, Broadcast News, during the first date between Holly Hunter and William Hurt. I just thought it was so romantic and glamorous to dress up for a party at an embassy with the backdrop of one of the monuments. Maybe that's why I'm moving to DC, to experience dating in what I consider one of the most romantic cities in the world. I've been working in DC pretty regularly the last 6 months and I fall in love with the town more and more every time.
I feel like John Hurt's character, Quentin Crisp in An Englishman in New York when he arrived in New York. Feeling like as soon as he saw the city, he wanted it. That its streets were the closest thing to Heaven on earth and that walking on them wasn't about "scurrying from shadow to shadow," but striding down the middle, "on display."
I don't stride, here. I strut.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Renewal
Every time I get on this blog, I feel like I need to start over. I've had a couple of tries with titles and format, but I think that this time is it. I want to be honest and frank, so I have to keep this anonymous. I am starting this out of a friend's suggestion, an outlet for me to get my frustrations out, and document some of the funnier things that have a tendency to happen in my life.
So, sorry to disappoint you, but my real name isn't Persephone. Does that really matter? I think the name still sums me up, my uniqueness, my personality. I may refer to people in my life by their real names, or real qualities about them, or not. Shall we start this adventure?
So, sorry to disappoint you, but my real name isn't Persephone. Does that really matter? I think the name still sums me up, my uniqueness, my personality. I may refer to people in my life by their real names, or real qualities about them, or not. Shall we start this adventure?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)