Confessions of a one time conex princess

Can anyone comprehend the difficulty of honesty? Explaining oneself in a way that absolves not only guilt but responsibility of past actions is at best very hard to do. Especially when those actions happened in past tense atmosphere. Fortunately for myself the story that I am about to tell is funny (at least to me).

I met my previous boyfriend a mere four months after a breakup with a longstanding boyfriend. The summer of that breakup I term (affectionately) my slut phase. If it was of the opposite sex, walked upright and had (at the very least) their front teeth, I was game. Now, up till this point in my life I had dated within my realm of people. Nerds to put it bluntly (and, I would like to add, before it was popular). I didn't have to reach far to find someone within my bubble and was content to pick solely from this lot. After the breakup I decided I had spent too long in one attitude (and color). I realized I had  never dated (made out, slept with) anyone who wasn't a) a chef or cook or bartender and, b) white. The fates surely heard my plea for almost overnight my place of employment had become a construction zone complete with construction workers. 

Imagine if you will sweet, little (not really little) ole Megann, bookworm and closet romantic amongst all those construction workers. It was heaven. These were men with capital M's. Not that the nice young men I had dated previously weren't but there is just something about a guy that works with his hands. They fixed things without instructions and knew the names to tools I had never heard of. They built things. It was (still is) hot. I was drywall mud in their capable hands ready to be spread (oh man, that was a good line).

I had set my sights on a young one (though the older were more susceptible to my charms) and with practiced charm and actually shaving for once we became friends. It didn't take long for late night conversations to include late night confidences, never have I ever's and then (finally) fooling around. Nothing too scandalous, I think it was more the danger of getting caught that was the best (still have super fond memories of conex trailers).  He left to go to another job (that's the way construction goes) and I took up with another one of the guys who I am actually quite good friends with till this day.

Fast forward three (OMG three) years. My boyfriend is working on his house in which i currently live. We have been through it all remolding wise and are done with this stupid project and cannot believe we started it in the first place. We need help. We have called and gotten quotes, hired and fired guys. I remember, somewhat belatedly, that I have this certain friend who works with his hands for a living (sigh) and maybe he could come out and look at the house. My boyfriend understandably is not too keen on this idea. I call him anyway and ask if he knows anyone who could help with this project. He sends me the number of a friend of his that he trusts to do the job I have described. Super excited I dial the number and realize it is already in my phone. My mind goes back three years to a hot and dark conex and my heart sinks even as I start to laugh. My boyfriends refusal of help from one of my former lovers has landed us straight into the lap of another! I call the guy anyway, wondering if he has (hopefully) forgotten about me cause I really would like a stove installed in my kitchen. He didn't answer and I don't know if he will call back.

So back again to honesty. I can tell him whats up and let him decide if he wants this guy to work for us. "Hey babe, a funny thing happened to me today...." Or I can let it hang hoping it won't blow up in my face in a disastrous way. "Hey man, your girlfriends butt is rounder than I remember it being, does it still...." Either way wish me luck!

If I give you my phone number, will you stop bothering me???

          Online dating makes it easier to be the asshole you always wanted to be but don't have the guts to in real life. It is incredibly easy to fire back a snarky reply (and hope they catch the sarcasm dripping from their phone), sit back and enjoy the backlash. Sometimes the backlash leads to interesting conversation but unfortunately the international language does not include sarcasm. What Siri? 
          I do not believe that i am smarter than the average bear. The average male on these dating sites? Just call me a Rhodes scholar by comparison (not that they would know what any of that means). I think the reason these websites claim "more marriages are made through blank blank blank dot com" is because there are so many "interesting" ( did ya catch the sarcasm?) people on there that when  you happen across a non interesting and quite boring catch, you grab it like it is the last loaf of bread on a snow day in the south and NEVER LET GO. You have seen what else is out there and let me tell you its kinda scary. Not Halloween scary but the type of scary that makes you want to curl up with your cat and think happy thoughts. I do realize that I probably translate better in person, but then I would have to meet you and if you didn't get my sarcasm then, you definitely won't get it when I am staring you in the face wishing to be anywhere else! 

What is that smell???

Man oh man. I am having one of those days! No, not a good hair day. No, not a bad hair day. No, not THAT kind of day! You ever have one of those days where no matter how much perfume or bathing (not that i have or anything) you do the only thing people smell are you pheromones? I am sending off some serious signals today and don't mean to! And why is my spit only on some peoples boots? Oh no, is my body telling me that 6 ft, gangle monkey guy with the coke bottle glasses on is my type for perfect breeding? Impossible! How come 6 ft jock doesn't fit the bill? I think we would rub along very well together! Biologically speaking gangle monkey guy wouldn't work. I wear glasses already and have no fashion sense. Mating with the same would cause some serious repercussions in the animal kingdom. I will not be responsible for the downfall of the human race. Im taking environmental science this semester. Trust me, I know what I am talking about! 

Here's your change

Man, I hate to make decisive statments. Inevitably 5 minutes pass and I am wondering if my Star Trek mentality of "boldly going where no one has gone before", just might only work for Captin Jean Luc Picard. Its like saying "I hate air", taking a couple of breaths and realizing that there are 15 possible alternative outcomes (one of which being living) that I never thought of before. 
So how does one step back from the brink of respectability? How to take back those 'I hate it when' and ' Don't put that on my salad, it's gross'? Is it easily fixed with another conversation where I start off with : "Hey...you remember that talk we had a month ago where I was all like, ' That and this and no, don't put that there?' Yeah....I'm going to need you to delete that from your brain and download this instead. Don't permanently save it cause I hear version 2.0 is coming out soon. No, I don't know why. Too many players on the field?" Oops. Wrong refrence, but you get where my mind is going. Maybe indecision is the spice of life instead of variety? Nope. I know what it is. Indecision is the gate way drug to the variety train headed towards addiction. Watch out decision makers, bad dye jobs and splotchy cover-ups next stop. I am having the sinking feeling that I am coming off flaky (not full shed yet, but im a scratching on the rocks). I would like to assure you (but mostly myself) that I am mostly sane 72% of the time. The other 28% is a cotton polyester blend that some find scratchy but I enjoy cause I think it makes my butt look firm. I told a friend today that I am going through some mental growth spurts right now but that all in all, things are looking up. If I can just wrangle my brain and mouth to be on the same wavelength, all those publishers clearing house apps i filled out might  just come to fruition! Hurry up Ed McMahon, mama needs a new life! 
 

I am woman, hear me roar?

Well, ya'll. it has been a cr-a-zy year! I have been with someone long enough that I am starting to use their catch phrases! Isn't that the weirdest feeling? You open your  mouth to say something, it comes out tasting funny and then you realize not only were you not the first to say it but you said it with their voice and inflection. Or even worse, when they say something that you have been saying for years (ex. You: "something smells good." Them: "I farted." You in your head : "dammit! really?") and now you can't use it for fear that they will think you a copycat. You try to interject it into conversation with them but are hyper aware that they will know what you are doing and smile knowingly (i love a good patronizing pat on the knee it really hammers the point home). I have smuggled deodorant and a toothbrush into the bathroom, a myriad of spices I can't personally eat without into the kitchen (salt for one) and have "accidentally" left numerous hair accessories just "lying" around (not artfully placed or anything) marking my territory. Trust me ladies, it is a lot easier than peeing on everything.We blew through the first fight, drunk. I called my best friend to come pick me up, sure I would never see him again. She took me back after I accused her of kidnapping me. Slept on the couch. Moved all  my stuff (left a trail of  hair accessories to the door, hoping he would divine the haste in which i left) out that morning. Called my friends. Freaked out that he would divine the special meaning behind the Hansel and Gretel hairpull move. Didn't call him though. Not that day anyway. You have to give these things time to marinate. I called the next day, fearful that I maybe had gone too far in my demonstration and now instead of talking about it over dinner I would have to do damage control at lunch. Long story short, while I overreacted in my head and to my poor friends, he is mostly blissfully ignorant of the inner workings of the female mind (and to the trail of dejected hairpulls) and I was able to talk without any mishap or tears! Whew. First fight done and smooth ish sailing from  here! 

p.s every time i tried to type first it came out fist fight. No one should hit anyone. Choking is ok though. 

The use of the Royal "We"

ooops, i did it again. used a future tense of a word in a sentence talking about us. wait, can i use the word us? I took  a class in highschool that taught me how to use "I" statements instead of "You" statements. I wish instead the class had been on what not to say when you are trying to say what you want to say....that made sense, right? A class everyone would benefit from I do believe! What is it with the male of the species that makes them so frightened of future tense (next week or the scary beyond) statements or 1st person pronouns like we, our, ours, us? Simple answer from a good friend of mine: "Megann, boys are programmed to fear words like future and us. When they hear them it makes them realize that they have not spread their seed far and wide enough...Girls on the other hand are programmed to hear those same words and say to themselves 'he loves me and wants me around'. In essence, boys are stupid, and that is usually the answer you need to tell yourself"
I like it. It makes sense.

Call me crazy but....

Don't you hate it? That little voice in your head that keeps mulling over the subtle nuance of EVERY word your new boyfriend of 2.5 days has said. That tiny nagging voice (the one that sounds like you except for the twinge of mass hysteria you can just barely hear) that turns the generally even keeled, pass to the left, devil may care, " i got my cool points, where are yours", person you normally are into a uneven, haven't had my V8, lost my high heels in a dice game, "oh no she didn't", ho-beast that even the Hulk would be frightend to tangle with. 

Why does this happen? Is this a side effect of all the dopamine your love starved body is releasing? Why isn't science helping these poor men who have to deal with the " oh well do you remember last week when you said" or " oh shut up, i didn't stab you that hard" or the absolute worse one " i'm fine, don 't worry about it". Better question. Why isn't science helping us overcome that insane urge to question, wonder, worry, stab, freak out, or deflect? Where is my pill, taken orally 3 times daily or when these feelings of craziness (we'll start calling them insecurities) occur, to take it all away? Do not tell me it is chocolate. My thighs cannot take it. There has to be some sort of remedy that does not involve me feeling worse afterwards! I need some sort of calming after effect like a room spray that, when the insecurities (aka craziness) start to come forth, i put down the gun-i mean cell phone and start to act like the rational person i am, 99% of the time. Does Mr. Clean make that? Is it in the feminine aisle at the CVS or is it prescription only? More importantly, does my insurance cover it because I have been real crazy-oops- insecure lately.