Falling into the Friends Zone

A question from one of my annoyed male friends:
Why do I keep falling into the friends zone?
From Sick~n~Tired I have enough friends!

Dear Reader,

I know you personally and I feel you are mature beyond your years.
When we met you were 18. I was 25. I did not feel like we had much of an age difference. Girls at your age are sadly looking for the fix-me-uppers! The guys with the problems that we need to help and fix. I personally fell into this trap many of times especially from the ages of (16-22ish) At 22, I got tired of trying to fix people! I want someone with their shit together!

My advice to you is expand your horizons! Talk to girls who do not know the girl you are after. The more females you talk to the more chances you have. Also, try the slight touch, or try to touch more than usual. Arm wrestle, stupid stuff like that. Also, it is very important that you win the arm wrestle contest! This way it will get her thinking about the more than friends zone.

The girl you are liking can also be liking you too but maybe has a zillion different reasons in her head not to date you: she maybe not even realize she is liking you as more than a friend until you are hooking up with her so called "friend", she is afraid to ruin your friendship, (let's face it once you two get into a dating relationship everything changes) maybe her and her friend are into you and they don't want to ruin their friendship. You really never know! Females over analyze everything and yap to their friends about all these details.

So for this semester my best advice to you would be to expand your social female circle. Eventually one of these girls will see you as a more than a friend!

<3 The Disbeliever

What can I say, I'm a softie

I know it's been almost two years since we've dated and I still have to see Y often and I've tried to be nice to him so things aren't awkward but he still remains very cold toward me, and I swore that I gave up trying to be nice to him.  But it is just not in my nature.  It is deeply written on my DNA to be nice to people, even if they haven't been nice to me.

So I gave in.  I wished Y a happy birthday. I couldn't help it.  But that is ALL--I swear.

Trying to stay positive,

Skeptic

Gym Membership Benefits

Let’s just say I didn’t expect that to come with my membership. ;) 

Keepin’ it real,

Realist

My Best Friend's Wedding

This weekend I had the happy occasion to attend my best friend's wedding.  Tricky thing is, said friend also happens to be my ex-boyfriend.

Before you are too quick to raise your eyebrows, let me explain that everything is perfectly fine between us, and despite everyone's belief that it is not possible, we have managed to keep up a close friendship with no awkwardness at all--lots of time has gone by, and I no longer hold onto those kinds of romantic feelings, and being that he just got married and is completely in love, I'm fairly certain he doesn't, either.

All that said, though, this kind of wedding is bound to have some awkwardness anyway, just because there was a history.  I got the feeling that people all around the wedding were watching me to see how I was reacting--perhaps either waiting for an impending meltdown, or to be ready to prevent an emotional crisis from ruining the wedding.  There was no such meltdown or crisis.  I actually spent most of the weekend having a great time.  I found all sorts of touristy things to do (by myself, of course), and made a mini-vacation of it for myself.

The awkwardness began slightly for me when I met up with the family for the rehearsal dinner.  I always loved his family, although I wasn't quite sure how happy they were that I was invited to all the festivities, being that I'm an ex (not that I blame them--it's nothing personal against me; just on principle).  But they were all welcoming to me, which helped put my mind at ease (maybe even overly so--I suspect the groom might have said something to them about it).

The wedding was nothing short of gorgeous.  But because I had been so excited for my friends' happy day for all the months leading up to it, I honestly did not expect to have such a range of unidentifiable emotions on the actual day.  Most of the day I was completely fine, and still very excited to celebrate.  But as the ceremony and the reception wore on, I found myself in the unfamiliar territory of not being sure what I was feeling (which is unusual since I am always very in tune with my own emotions).  The family continued to be somewhat overly welcoming of me and seemingly on the task of making sure I had a good time (okay guys, you were most certainly given instructions).  A couple of other people who were somewhat aware of the history asked me how I was doing, and I said I was fine.  And I was.

Later in the night, though, when the yawns were starting to set in and I was feeling uninspired by the music the DJ was playing, I took myself on a little night stroll around the vineyard to enjoy the glorious star-filled sky.  I wondered at the interesting shadows I saw between the night sky, the candlelight, and the vines, and took some time to reflect.  Alone in the dark, I became overwhelmed with a very confused feeling.  It could be just the wedding itself--I find myself sad at pretty much every wedding I go to anymore.  I think it's being surrounded by happy couples and feeling cripplingly afraid of ending up alone (and the wedding habits of exploiting the singles like setting up the single people to dance with other single people, or to catch the bouquet, only cast a spotlight on my romantic misfortune).  It could also be because I was losing my best friend.  Not only was he married now and probably staying as close as we have been in the past would not be appropriate anymore, but they were also moving across the country.  I was also genuinely happy for them--I have known him for so very long, and have gotten to know her over the last couple of years, and I was so happy this day had come and we could celebrate together.  I felt a little left behind and rejected, and even though there truly is nothing romantic between us anymore, those feelings of being left behind are still valid.  Could I even call him a best friend anymore?  Your wife is supposed to be your best friend, right?  I guess I'm out, then.  There was also confusion--a lot of these feelings were causing conflict in my head and I didn't know what to do with them or how to process all of it.

It was at that moment that I pulled myself together and decided that it was time for me to bow out of the picture and head back to my hotel for bed.  I am still genuinely happy for both of them, and I am so glad that my good friend has found the happiness he deserves.  But as strong a person as I am, and as well as we've managed to transition into a sincere friendship, going to an ex's wedding is still a tough pill to swallow.

Trying to stay positive,

Skeptic

Don't Let the Skin Color Fool You....

“Why are you so black?” said my boot camp teacher, giving me his usual handshake.

“I went to the beach,” I said, smiling.

“And you made it here.”

“I’m dedicated.” And I kinda wanted to see you.

The crazy thing is that I had a dream about him and boot camp!

He was instructing that class. Afterwards, I talked to the female instructor about everything—from running to Russia.

The “B” walked in and plopped himself on an exercise ball, between me and the female instructor. I see him staring at me. What is he looking at!?

“What are you?”

I get this question a lot! Especially in that area.

One girl walked in and thought I was Portuguese. Must be my killa tan. ;)

I have gotten Guatemalan, Polish, Russian, Brazilian, etc. Everything but Ukrainian.

“Ukrainian? Wow….” said the “B.”

Hmmm…is he digging the Uke? The cat eye? (The Disbeliever swears I have cat eyes. <>.<>)

He would not tell me what he thought I was. Interesting….

“Are you from here?”

Why does everyone think I am a foreigner?!

He is Jamaican. I told him one of my friends is Jamaican and I can’t understand anything she says.

“I can’t understand anything you Russians say.”

Oh no he did not!

Pet peeve: being called Russian! There is a difference!

He proceeded to say that the female instructor, who is Hungarian, is also Russian. She told me to call him Haitian when he calls me Russian. So I did.

There was a bit of flirting going on. I can’t believe he wanted to know my nationality.

I continued talking to the female instructor. He came by and brought his rollerblades. He was going to rollerblade home, about five blocks away, at 10:30 p.m. He was laying down on the couch as I walked out one of the doors.

“Will you make your pancakes after class tomorrow?”

The female instructor said that is how to get me to go to class.

“I need an incentive.”

I have never worked out that early (6 a.m.) My body would think it’s still sleeping. But his pancakes can be my motivation. ;)

He told me the female lesbian duo Tatu has a good song—they are making out in the video, which he said was “well filmed”. He pointed out that they are Russian. What is he implying? Is he fantasizing about the instructor and I?

He asked me if I am walking home. Awww. He cares. I said I am driving home. He blew me a kiss with a peace sign.

He left with the female instructor, who is missing one tooth and is way older than him. She told me that she dated a Russian guy and never again. I told her I don’t want to date my own kind. I like them different—Spanish. I should have said black!

I don’t know why they both walked—well, he rollerbladed-- home together. I thought he lives down south. Unless he is staying somewhere in the area because he has to make pancakes after class. But who is he staying with? The instructor? I will find out.

I drove past them to spy. I honked and shouted “Haitian!” He was rollerblading and talking on the phone. The female instructor was walking way behind him. They don’t act like they are together.

I would be waking up for boot camp in four hours. But I would rather continue my dream about him.

Oh well, no pancakes for me. I could go for breakfast in bed though. ;)

Keepin’ it real,

  Realist

I ran into Birdseed Boy & Orange

Did this REALLY happen?!: Ugh I found the biggest loser ever!

Check this link for a refresher about this loser.

I walked into to a bar tonight and boom he was there. Ugh...

I snuck out on his ass the last time I saw him because he was sooooo drunk. I guess he thought I was going to curse him out when I saw him tonight because I read his lips and all he said was "O' Fuck!" Come on!!! I turned around and walked out the door.

While on my way to the car I run into orange. Orange is a man in his upper 40s-50s. I call him orange directly to his face because he is just exactly that. He is ORANGE! He has a daughter who is going to be a freshman in college this year. He was bugging the shit out of me. Come on why don't we date? You and I would be great together. You run and I run... Me: "Really I did not see you at the track in over 2 months." Him: "Yeah you know I been busy. It is summer! I'm having a great summer. I'm down the shore (beach) every weekend. Every weekend a different beach. Come on call me sometime. We will go on a date. This guy is bleeding desperation! That is the most annoying factor with him! He even said he loved me! I just rolled up the window. Come on buddy get a LIFE and stop ruining mine.

<3 Disbeliever Disbelieving 24/7

The "Delicious Plank"

          “Now that’s a delicious plank.”

         
         That was the most unique, yet sexiest, compliment I have ever got from a guy.

          My feelings for my boot camp teacher get crazier each time I see him. So do his actions. While in a plank, he put his hands on my hips again. Now, no one ever adjusts my plank. I have a reputation from many an instructor of having the “perfect plank.” So I don’t buy his “adjustment”, or lack thereof. Heck, I broke the boot camp record with planking for 5:13 one day.

          
          I would not mind him planking on top of me. ;)  

          I can’t get over his comment! Delicious?!

          While doing jumping jacks, he high-fived each person in rows. When he came by me, all he did was lightly touch my elbow. He was picking on me a lot in class. I went to drink water at one point. He said, “I didn’t know we were taking a water break.” He was introducing an exercise to us and he looked at me, saying, “You could probably do it.” He caught me leaning against the bar. I guess I looked bored. He needs to increase the intensity. He said I look too relaxed leaning against the bar. During one of the 10-second breaks, I looked up at him as I was kneeling. He gave me that look. And a nod.

         Forget working out. He makes me sweat.  

         The clincher was after class. he asks who wants a “secret” shake that he makes. You have to buy a punch card for it. I never bought one, but he has given me a free one before. He asked for a show of hands. He looked at me and I shook my head.

         
          “Oh man, you are almost perfect!” he said, shaking his head.

          I got so red. I felt everyone staring at me! I can’t believe he said that!

          While in my bliss, I watched him making shakes. My thoughts in my head:

          “He looks so cute making that shake…..I like his back….I wonder what he looks like shirtless….”

         I was undressing him with my eyes. I liked what I saw.

         I snapped myself back to reality when I overheard that he will make pancakes after tomorrow’s 6 a.m. class. A guy that cooks?! Marry me.

         Supposedly he makes good pancakes. How adorable. I don’t see any flaws. I like his athleticism, his entreprenualship, his body, his personality (professional, yet fun), his body, humorous, nice teeth, his body, he cooks. Did I mention his body?

          I am not a morning exerciser. I would have to wake up at 5 a.m.! But he can be my motivation. I would not mind seeing him first thing in the morning. And eating those pancakes.

I am finding it very hard to control my feelings when I see my boot camp instructor. I don’t even know if he is single. But I tell myself that I should not even bother because my parents would not approve. This really hurts me because he seems like a great guy. I don’t know what to do. I can enjoy it as a crush, but I can definitely see myself with him. He is boyfriend material!

He is almost—no—he is perfect. And I bet his pancakes are as delicious as my plank. ;) Mmmmm plancakes.

Keepin’ it real,

              Realist

Work my Magic

         I got the digits of my boot camp instructor. I worked up a sweat for that one. ;)

I am crushing on him. Big time. I cannot look at him. I smile like a cheese. And I probably blush. There is something about him that is so attractive. I love that he works out. Such a turn-on. He is very poised, yet has a good sense of humor.  And he’s black. The dark kind.

I can seriously see myself on a date with him. He is not ghetto. He sounds like a white guy. Now that I have his number, I don’t know what to do with it. He is not the typical flirt trainer at the gym. He is serious but knows how to joke around to get the class motivated. However, he is very touchy feely. He can use the excuse that he is a trainer and wants to make sure we are in the right position. Smooth.

We were paired up and had to plank and shake the hand of our partner, and then switch hands. Then I felt a set of hands around my waist. Oh. My. Goodness.

“Why are you pushing me down?!” Picture this: I am in a plank and he is behind me, literally on top of me. It felt like he was putting a stack of weights around my hips to make the plank tougher.

“I’m not pushing you down! I have my hands around your hips to keep them straight.”

          Might as well shove his ween in there with that position. Ouch!

          “Doesn’t that feel good when your stomach is tight?!” he said, roughly patting my stomach, still in a plank.

          Good God almighty.

          After class I told him I would see him tomorrow. My co-worker wanted to give boot camp a try, so I asked him for pricing yesterday.

          “Where is your friend?”

          “Ummmm…I didn’t talk to her.” The truth is, she said “hell no” to boot camp because it is expensive.

          He was looking for trial cards on the counter. BS…he never had any.

          “Call me tomorrow then. I can’t find them. Do  you have my number?”

          “No….”

          “What?!” He proceeds to give me his number and I diligently dial it on my phone. I hope my number registered on his phone.

          “Call me tomorrow then.”

          OK!

          He could just be doing business, but I don’t care.

          Unfortunately, my parents would really disown me if I had dated a black guy. It’s a shame how unacceptable it is. He can be a really great guy, yet they would not allow it because of his skin color.

         I could just be going through a craving for chocolate....but it's so good.

         I will work out my fingers and dial his number tomorrow.

Keepin’ it real,

   Realist

Be honest!

Who keeps a list of your sexual escapades? Do you rate them on a scale? I used to have a kiss list. I gave up on that freshmen year of college. Maybe I still have it somewhere if I dig deep haha....

<3 Disbeliever Disbelieving 24/7

What was his name again?

I went to a birthday party at a bar last night for a girl that I don't know very well, but who has always been very nice to me.  I saw a few people that I used to work with, which was slightly awkward because my tenure from that company ended so abruptly (and none of them reached out to so much has tell me hey, sorry about that, that sucks), but I was quite friendly and upbeat, so I think I did a good job of keeping all awkwardness at bay.

Then one guy I used to work with showed up, who I didn't know very well, but seemed nice.  And he came with his brother, who was visiting from San Francisco (this seems to be a theme for me lately--the guys from San Fran).  Oooooh was he cute.  And he seemed smart and well-spoken.  At one point I noticed that I had my game on without even realizing I had turned it on--I was smiling at him (in fact, I don't believe I could remove the smile from my face), making jokes with the group as we talked, etc.  We all sat down at a table for 6 and as luck would have it, he got the seat next to me.  We started having a one-on-one conversation and I could just feel the energy off him.  Every once in a while I would look across the table and could see his brother looking at us.  It felt like my attraction to San Fran was written on my face, the way he was watching us.  Could he tell?  Did he approve?  Was this okay?

The problem started when someone ordered fish bowl drinks to share.  I was certainly excited to share a fishbowl with my new acquaintance, but those fishbowls contained danger.  I don't drink much usually, so it doesn't take much for me to feel the effects.  And this fishbowl was particularly evil.  So before I knew it, my graceful and elegant self had gone out the window and I turned into a klutzy slob.  I'm not proud of it.  And this is not cute or attractive (just one of the reasons why I don't drink much typically).  After that, San Francisco man didn't say much to me anymore, despite my fantasies of meeting him in the bar bathroom for a smooch.  I can't say I blame him.

Thus, the moral of the story, kiddos, is that while some relationships out there start with the help of alcohol, sometimes alcohol can also become a mood killer.  And I really should be more careful about it.  Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going on the hunt for some Advil and a big glass of water.

Trying to stay positive,

Skeptic

The things I do for my career

The line between professional and personal is a tricky one.  The recruiting manager for my field at the networking event last night was really cute.  I sent a follow-up thank you email (of course), and when he wrote back and said he "remembered me well," my heart fluttered a bit (even though I'm sure he meant it in the most professional way possible). 

What's between the lines here, is that if I have any interest at all in this job, it should be hands-off and 100% professional (I am NOT the kind of girl who would sleep with someone for a job).  So even though I have this guy's card and would very much like to read innuendo into the comment that he "remembers me well," the protocol is to pull back on the reigns.

*sigh*

Trying to stay positive,

Skeptic

The Mathematician

Setting: A bar in Hoboken. I am standing by the bouncer and am approached by a guy.

Guy: "Hey there. So, how old are you?"
Me: "Always a great first question, seeing how you're not supposed to ask a woman her age. I'm 31, you?"
Guy: Pauses for a few moments "Well, if you take the digits in your age, reverse them, and subtract that value from your age, you get my age."
Me: Pauses for a few moments, to both absorb the ridiculousness of that comment and to do the math. At this point, I would like to remind you that we are standing within earshot of the bouncer. In a raised voice, I say, "Oh, so you are 18! You must have one hell of a fake ID to get in this bar!"

I'll let you come to your own conclusions as to what happened next.


Doing math wherever I go,
Leader

Yes, I am a junkie. And this is what they call withdrawl.

So I have accepted this thing with SanFranMan for what it is--a fun, meaningless, and uninvolved fling of sorts.  But perhaps I was having too much fun?  It's been a while now since we've *ahem* chatted, and it's making me slightly anxious.  I miss it!

I think there are a few levels to this.  On a very basic level, it's fun.  I like fun.  I want more of it.  On a slightly deeper level, it feels really good to feel attractive, and as much as I shouldn't rely on men for validation, I feel unattractive without any attention from the males out there.  I just want to feel alive, young and vibrant!  And on an ever-so-slightly deeper level, I don't want to be cast aside.  Even though this is nothing, and no one signed any contracts, it would be a little disappointing to think that I could be cast aside so easily, if it was the case that he lost interest.

Oy.  This was not supposed to be complicated.  All right, need to find someone else.

Trying to stay positive,

Skeptic

Introducing: "Seven Dates a Week"

The ladies of this blog like to support the other ladies out there who are venturing among the weeds of the dating world.  We have supported The Perils of Urban Courtship on several occasions (holla, Sabrina!).

Today I would like to introduce you to another blog, which may be one of the juiciest things you'll ever read.  That blog is Seven Dates a Week, and it is red hot now and gaining followers like crazy.  She is an (anonymous) friend of mine, and not only does she have an endless supply of material (which comes from being bisexual, polyamorous, and generally very open about her sexuality--not to mention an incredible knack of attracting dates and partners that I have always tried to understand and learn from), but she is also a top-notch writer.  She's witty, clever, and sometimes sarcastic.  She's often funny, sometimes heartbreaking, and always fascinating.  Give her blog a read, and if you're on Twitter, she is definitely a good one to follow--her Twitter feed is what started it all!

Happy reading!

Trying to stay positive,

Skeptic