It all makes sense

Ladies, I understand it all right now. As I sat at my keyboard for an hour straight exerting mental energy wondering if someone liked/just how much they liked me, it all became crystal clear.

If he/she is not your girl/boyfriend, then they do not owe you anything.

Even if they are the most charming person you have ever met, sends you cute little presents, picks you up for your dates at your door, picks up the tab for all of your meals...if you do not have covetted girlfriend status, then you do not have a right to expect them to change.

Let's think how fucking liberating that idea is?!

How many times have we wasted our time with some guy/gal thinking that if "we helped them change" how they have "potential" or any other psuedo psycho babble to rationalize staying with an "almost" decent guy. I am not going to lie, dating in NYC has made me reconsider the high standards that I once had. I have begun to make allowances for fixer-upers, guy's whose behavior would have been deal breakers (such as making me go dutch for dinner/drinks--do you know how much $$ it takes to look good?!?) all because finding a good guy is difficult. I have even begun to take it upon myself to help facilitate change with some of these fixer uppers.

And you know what I have learnt?!

If you are not a serious girlfriend, they are not going to change. Even if they claim to "like you a lot" or any other words they use to mask lackluster feelings. Since you are not their girlfriend, they do not owe you anything.

They do not owe you anything.

However you interpret their doting behavior, is your own problem because unless you are in a serious relationship, they really owe you nothing. Take the gesture at face value for what it is, a gesture. A nice thing that you do for someone because you felt compelled to do something for them...A gesture.

I feel liberated. I am going to take all of that energy and throw it into something constructive, such as finding a new job and an apt with John John. And this weeks dates (although I may just say no to the Arab, I mean I think I need a translator just to have a conversation with him.)

Direct correlation

http://newyork.craigslist.org/lgi/m4w/72192497.html

My question is...if you are putting that much effort into a post on craigslist, to find the woman of your dreams, wouldnt it be better spent...oh I don't know, developing a hobby to meet other liked minded women? Or is craigslist the common interest you want to have with your future dream woman.

So last night, I went to Tony and Tina's wedding. Not impressed, went to the show already somewhat intoxicated. Stood outside chain smoking and got hit on by some limo driver where I proceeded to tell him that I have a boyfriend and a girlfriend and that we all live in an apt together on the upper westside. He obviously was very impressed...and invited me to go into his limo for drinks. Uhm, sorry pal, skeevy old limo drivers are not my type. Wearing jeans, low cut top and flats. Type of man attracted to me: skevy limo driver.

Now, I do not understand the fixation with men and short pleated skirts. Maybe I should start to dress like a grown up when I go out, but there will always be this part of me that wearing a short pleated skirt brings out. Went home after the show, and in tow I pick up a friend and headed out for another drink(well just drank beer). So we go to this lounge 2 blocks from my apt. My friends and I stay like a cute little clicque in the club, hence no men are talking to me. I go up to the bar for another drink, guy stand next to me...nothing is said. All of a sudden a great beat comes from the music and I start to shimmy...then he starts a conversation.

The skirt's power is not in the skirt itself but how it is being used...evidently hip shakes in a short pleated skirt that seems to turn upward when you spin is a big hit in the bar scene in NYC...although I look like a first year NYU student from Nebraska.

Scene repeats at the next Lounge....end up making up with some dude on the dance floor, get really drunk, continue to make out with dude on the dance floor whose name I have no idea about (when he called this afternoon he failed to mention it...), in hot girl mode he asks for my # and I write it on his arm...

I was fucking hot last night.

Too bad I was DRUNK AS A SKUNK!!! And he is from Jordan (arab guy, guess I am playing into his stereotypes about American women)...actually, cute thing as I am going out of the lounge I go get pizza (which ended up being my demise this morning--I think it was food poisoning)Arab guy stops and buys a rose from the street vendor for me.

Why can't I be attracted to the guys who actually like me?

So this week dates with impressive lawyer man and the Arab. Where the fuck were these guys during my dry spell in the winter and I had to use internet dating?

Summers in NYC...