Hot Damn!
Be into it.Archive for dating
WHAT.
… is my life.
No seriously. The bull shit that happens to me is really unbelievable. Or maybe not totally unbelievable, but just happens too often to be believable.
As I am back in Syracuse, there were two crucial things on my to do list. They were:
1. Leah’s Sunflower Chicken Salad Sandwhich from A La Mode
2. Vegan Burrito from Alto Cinco.
I was able to do work on number one this afternoon on my way to Home Depot to buy paint. After an exhausting/productive day of painting my room. I decided an appropriate award would be to check off number 2.
After about 14 unanswered calls (and I do not exaggerate on this number), I decided to drive to Alto Cinco and confront them on their poor phone skills. Frustrated that I have to leave the house covered in paint (literally, my eyelashes have paint on them), I drive by Alto Cinco only to see that THEIR LIGHTS ARE OFF AND CHAIRS UP ON TABLES.
WHAT.
Pissed off I come home and order chicken fingers and curly fries from Acropolis.
20 minutes later my phone rings. I answer – guy says “Hi I have a pizza delivery at I think I’m at your door.” Strange way to let someone know that information but I ignore that and open the front door.
Delivery boy (pretty decent looking) proceeds to give me my food and I pay (and give a generous tip for his humor) he says thank you and ads on a “so what are you girls doing tonight.”
I’m sorry what.
After we giggle and say hanging out he invites us to come to his house and then to a party on Comstock.
He says just come over to which I say – and say what, oh hi you delivered my food? (slightly degrading and offensive, but thats honestly what I would have said because – what. what are you doing.)
He then WHIPS out a piece of paper and says, “well ya know what..”
and POINTS to the DELIVERY SLIP and says while pointing:
“Thats your name. And thats your number.”
OH! DONT WORRY! THATS NOT CREEPY AT ALL!
What?! WHAT THE HELL?! WHO TOLD HIM THIS WAS OK TO DO!?
Honestly, at what point in his life did someone say, if you ever are delivering food to a cute girl, it is totaly reasonable to dig out her name and number from the delivery slip, because, hey, you already know where she lives. This way you can REALLY stalk the shit out of her.
Thank god for Syracuse. You never fail to be the sketchiest place on earth.
peace, love, and stalkers,
natalie marie.
I Am A Fake.
I say a lot of cynical bull shit.
But at the end of the day, I’m just another girl looking for her prince charming.
peace, love, and fairytales,
natalie marie.
Sabotage.
Oh hey. That’s the story of my life.
You know how they say, crazy people don’t know their crazy? Well at least I know. Or maybe I’m not actually crazy? Who cares. Either way, I am an addict. And my drug is sabotage.
I hate boys. This isn’t true. Not at all. In fact, I like them a lot. Too much actually. Which is why when I am in a relationship, I become this crazy person (in my eyes). I make decisions that effect my life based on another person. That is crazy. CRAZY.
Now, I realize that to some extent that is what you DO when you’re in a relationship, however, at the age of 21 (almost 22), I am in no way at the point in my life where I SHOULD be making decisions based on the lives of other people. That is stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.
ERGO!
I sabotage any potential relationship with whom I may care about in the slightest (note: I am speaking of romantic relationships with boys, not friendships with girls). This includes, but is not limited to sabotage in the following ways:
- speaking of other romantic interests
- speaking of other romantic situations, (ie: dates, being hit on, etc.)
- speaking of sexual interaction with others
- running away (my personal favorite) ie: not responding to phone calls, text messages, FB interaction, IM’s etc. Basically, I fall off the face of the Earth, and for all intensive purposes, could be dead. The only way they know I am alive is that my phone is on and/or I continue to have FB interaction with everyone else, including mutual friends.
This sabotage, I realize, is a way of protecting myself from any kind of situation where I may end up heartbroken. (Thank you Matthew Rivera.) But it is also the only way I can put a stop to becoming THAT GIRL. The one who gives up everything for a boy. Because I would. Will. I just am not ready. It’s not the right time for me.
So here I go again. Sabotaging another one. What a shame.
peace, love, and destruction,
natalie marie.
Boy Am I A Sucker.
Goldman Sachs guy texted me this weekend. And I didn’t text back. He changed the location of the date, but Jose scared me into not talking to him. Mainly because Jose has a very good judge of character, and generally the guy did throw a lot of lame lines. And let’s face it. We met on a subway.
Now he just called. Twice. At 1:16 and 2:16. A bit stalkerish. Not that into it. Then he left a message.
I was fine until I listened to it.
OH MY GOD HIS ACCENT. I never thought I was really one of those people who would freak out about accents. I mean, I did live in Italy for a year, and their accents never swayed my judgement.
But oh man. This guy can say whatever he wants and I will listen.
In fact, I might just listen to that message again right now.
Jose is going to punch me in the face
peace, love, and Brits,
Natalie Marie
BAIL!!!!!
So I’m feeling kind of guilty right now. I just sent a “oh gosh something came up cant make it” text to Goldman Sachs guy. I feel bad because I’m sure hes a very nice guy and probably lonely in the city blah blah. But I am having so much anxiety about this that I fell off the wagon and bought Twizzlers for breakfast. Ok ok Twizzlers and a Kit Kat.
He wanted to take me to the W Hotel Underbar.
"Underbar"
Here is an excerpt from the description:
“As you enter the UNDERBAR at W New York – Union Square – the flickering candles in this sultry, dark, and seductive basement space catch your eye. See and be seen in the main room. Or hide away in a private alcove upholstered from floor to ceiling. Create your own little world. Each cozy niche space is equipped with privacy curtains and a rope pull to call for service.”
What.
I’m sorry. I met you on a subway car, spoke to you for all of 5 minutes, and you’re taking me there?
NOT that I wouldn’t want to go there. That place sounds amazing and so posh and I would die to go there.
But not with a random stranger who is 30.
Right?
Did I just make a huge mistake? Am I freaking out for no reason?
This is my problem. As I said yesterday, I have no interest in dating. I am 21. I have literally had anxiety about this since the minute I woke up this morning. I’m practically a baby. I just want to hang out with friends and watch movies and do stupid shit at bars. I want to play beer pong and ass hole and kings. I don’t go for after work drinks because I dont even have a real job. If this had been 3 years from now, I would have gone no question. It would be time for me to grow up. But as of now, I don’t really have to do that and I don’t really want to.
I think I would have just preferred a more causal setting for a first date/drinks. Not so much pressure. I’m sure he was just trying to be impressive/romantic, but that puts me in the position of feeling like I should put out, which I shouldn’t. Ergo, I’m not into it.
Shame. He could have bought me some really awesome clothes.
WHICH IS A TERRIBLE THING TO SAY.
And this is for Dan Casey:
Dear Dan Casey,
I’m not going to say you were right, but I’m going to say that no, money doesn’t buy everything. How’s that. You caught me.
PS. Feel better.
So thats that. I’m kind of bummed but so relieved at the same time. Although still curious as to what the Underbar actually looks like, but not curious enough to find out.
peace, love, and martinis,
natalie marie.
UPDATE: this is what he just texted me “No worries. A good dry run/dress rehearsal =) Wanna pick a day next week for the main performance?”
What. What the hell do I say to that. HELP.
UPDATE 2: On Sabra’s advice (and against my better judgment) I wrote “Underbar is so posh, what are you trying to seduce me?” In an attempt to possibly change the location so I didnt feel so out of place.
and he wrote, “=) just easier to talk and get to know each other there… but you’ll have to try your best to keep your hands off me =)
WHAT. THE. FUCK.
I’m just so thrown off I have no idea what to do or say.
Is he joking? Is he serious? No, Goldman Sachs, I don’t think it’s an easier place to get to know each other. It’s dark in there. It’s a basement.
Now if we had started off a conversation with some witty banter, this would come as no surprise. But the guy literally asked me what I was reading, and it was an article about what a dick Bill Clinton actually is. Now I’m not sure if hes being creepy or actually funny. I don’t know what to do at all.
Fuck my life. This is, once again, is why I hate dating. Too complicated for me thanks.
