If you didn’t read Saturday’s entry, please take a moment to look at that so that we can all laugh at the hilarity that is my life.
I spent all day Saturday watching the Miami Vice Marathon on T.V. Don Johnson was so damn hot. I loved him as a pre-pubescent 12 year old in 1985 and I love him now as a 32 year old. I really bridged that age gap, didn’t I? He was about 35 when he was filming the show. Meow.
Spent Saturday evening with the trainer. Tribal has spoken. He has been voted off the island. Sorry.
Strike 1: He didn’t go to college (Valedictorian Velvet Values Veducation – 4V’s…sort of;) Strike 2: He’s allergic to dogs. I’m so madly in love with my dogs that I wouldn’t even entertain being serious with someone who couldn’t love them as much as I. Strike 3: It’s a general yet all-encompassing strike to include everything else about him. He didn’t walk me to my car when I left his apartment and he lives in a quasi-ghetto, and we don’t click. He is very affectionate, and hates that I’m not. He seems to get in moods, and I’m pretty even keel happy all the time. I’ve worked hard to be happy and emotionless (duh) and not get in moods and not be sappy affectionate. And I sure as hell don’t need that from someone I’m dating. Saturday night was a totally different experience than Friday night. If you’re gonna be bi-polar and all moody, don’t invite me over.
He also said, “Your phone rings a lot.” I said, “I only plan on answering it if my parents call. It’s my rule. Parents or boss, I pick it up.” He said, “You and I are so different. I would never do that.” Suck it. Mom squeezed me out from between her legs. Dad helped me out tremendously with paying for school and my current abode. Both of them love me despite the mass levels of insanity they inflict on the world around them and I answer the phone when they call. My boss gave me the best job ever and pays me way too much to do it so I answer his calls too. So, again, suck it.
I just cannot meet a normal man. And since when did sub par, defective men, become the new norm?
You know how people have May-December romances? I have Friday-Sunday romances. Make that Friday-Saturday.
Never one to sulk long, I woke up Sunday with a new attitude. I have so many Craigslisters on my ass that I don’t need no stinking trainer. I went to the gym and since My BestGuyFriend’s office is above my gym, I ran up there to confirm our dinner plans. I’m cashing in Frequent Flier miles for restaurant vouchers all over this town. When I was there I told him that I met and have been talking with someone for a couple days who happens to live in the same building he does. BestGuyFriend-M said, “Where did you find this guy?” I said, “Craigslist.” He bust out laughing so hard I thought milk would come out of his nose.
I met Craigslist #1 tonight for a drink at his house. Don’t ask. Ok, ask. The reason I met at his house is because I was storing the motorcycle at BestGuyFriend-M’s for the winter and I wanted to bring it there tonight. CL#1 let me into the garage and I put it in BestGuyFriend-M’s spare spot. Then we went up to his apartment and had a glass of wine. We have the same bedroom furniture (shut up, I took the tour) and a lot of the same crazy books. And he’s someone who I can banter with. Banter! I am so quick sometimes with my sarcasm and snarky comments that it takes a special person to keep up with me. BestGuyFriend-M can keep up with me. In fact, most of my friends can. I thought I was destined to spending a life surrounded by gay men, but, aah, someone smart and who can banter! Exciting. Then BestGuyFriend-M came to pick me up so we could go eat and he came to CL #1’s apartment. He saw my bag that had the motorcycle cover in it and said, “Oh God, is she moving in?” They talked about the building, we all went up to see BestGuyFriend-M’s place, then BestGuyFriend-M and I left for dinner and CL #1 went home.
In the car, BestGuyFriend-M said, “Don’t fuck it up.”
The evening ended with the most hilarious dinner conversation between Boston, BestGuyFriend-M and I. It was all about sex and drugs, because, come on, what else is there? I told them about the affection thing with the personal trainer and how he said I hated it and he liked it. Boston said, “It’s because you didn’t like him.” I said, “Right. You know, I could fuck just about anybody, but I couldn’t hold just anybody’s hand.” After it came out of my mouth, I realized just how wrong wrong wrong that is.