Jose Cuervo, You Are A Friend Of Mine ...

I realized something today.

The difference between my emotional IQ now, at the age of 29, and 22 year-old me is merely that I am now fully cognizant of how delusional I am. This is a revolting development really. The painful part of going crazy is the part where you feel yourself slipping away, or so I'm told. Once you are crazy I hear it's pretty cool. Velcro shoes and crazy straws for everyone!

I am currently in New York, interviewing, visiting friends, and most importantly making poor decisions in my love life. My bad relationship choices are now officially bi-coastal. The realization that I really hadn't evolved much with age washed over me last night as I caught myself in a bold faced lie. A lie that many many many women have told before and many many many more will tell in the future. I looked directly into the big brown puppy eyes of the phone sexer and said "I'm not looking for a relationship either! Just fun is great for me!"

This phrase went through the rube Goldberg device that resides in the part of my brain where emotional/relationship intelligence is supposed to be stored and popped out the standard reasoning for this lie, "He says that, but look how he's looking at me. he'll change his mind. just give it time" I just can't seem to resist the emotionally unavailable. I feel like Odysseus trying to resist the Sirens song. I'm pretty sure I cannot do it alone. I am going to need someone to tie me to a metaphorical mast or whatever so I stop crashing my vagina into all these dead end men.

A few observations about why I might find these men so appealing that I have sorted out in my musings today.

First, for whatever reason, they all seem to be excellent in bed. My ex and the phone sexer are about as self-centered as they come. They orbit themselves. Yet, I have never come across two more INCREDIBLY giving men in the bedroom. Truly, what they do should be studied and comprehensive pamphlets should be handed out to descent kind-hearted men everywhere. In my personal research, the good guys just don't throw you around the surfaces of the apartment like that as often. I suppose I could ask that of the nice guy, but that seems awkward. "Umm, I was just thinking, how about you throw me up against the window of your high rise and pull my hair in front of god and all of Wall St, you know, for a change...of pace" SEE! It just doesn't sound as classy when you have to spell it all out. I prefer to have my castle stormed.

Number Two: I think there is a good bit of Groucho Marx in me. I don't want to be a part of any relationship that would willingly have me as a component. If I have to beat you into submission, then I can be reasonable sure that you have seen my crazy parts. Like the part of me that likes to wake up ultra early after a long night and eat 16 Eggo waffles in bed while discussing current events, for example. I figure, a rational person should pump the breaks a time or seven when they witness my neurosis in all its glory. If you can't wait to be a part of it? Well I find you suspect.

Number Three: My mother. Enough said there. I can't pin point it exactly, but I can say with a reasonable amount of certainty that she is at least partially responsible for this. When in doubt, assume it's something your mother did.

That's it for now. I am going downtown and have some tequila. That feels like the right thing to do. I can't wait until I am full crazy, like Britney circa the head shaving. In relationships, as in fast food calorie count, ignorance is truly better. Sigh.

Managing Expectations... Jazz Hands

I booked a ticket to NYC this week. It's an exploratory mission to determine whether a permanent return to the East Coast is what I really want. The added bonus is actual sex with my favorite phone sex fella.

After I booked the ticket and informed the boy, whom I haven't seen in a year, I realized I am a liar. I tell him (and others) that it's purely sex that I am after in his case. I'm human, I'm liberated, I'm training for an Iron Man, I'm going on a humanitarian trip to Haiti in April. I am woman hear me roar. I'm FINE with casual. Right? I am a born people pleaser and I can tap dance as fast as needed. Jazz Hands.

I am also acutely aware that he is about as jumpy as they come. Boy's got rabbit in him. I'd like to meet his mother, or the girl that obviously worked him over cause he is the total package of emotional baggage to be sure. I do love a challenge.

I actually don't know what his story is, not really.

We met over a year ago. There was an instant attraction, but he was seeing an old friend of mine so off limits. Things with them ended and we had a secret little fling a few months later. You are free to judge me on this. I probably deserve it. Attraction is however a strange thing. The instant I met him, I took a deep breathe and thought, gulp, be cool, this one could be trouble. It's my theory when you meet someone that stops you in your tracks like that, it must mean you would have healthy babies or something. It can't have anything to do with actual compatibility with a total stranger. I don' t believe in love at first sight. It's just nature's way of saying, oh, y'all would be a good fit to propagate the species. That's my theory, anyhow.

We started an email/text flirtation. He made me laugh and most importantly, he was just the right combo of aloof and charming to make me chase him just a little bit. The emotionally unavailable are my specialty after all. He showered me with attention, I responded. Who doesn't like attention? He pulled back just as I started to get really interested and suddenly I was chasing him. It eventually ended, as it usually does, with me getting sick of it and telling him to go to hell. I really stuck to my guns and didn't hear from him for almost a year. He texted me over Christmas to apologize for his previous behavior. It got me thinking about how much fun it is to have someone to flirt with regularly... yada yada yada I already like him more than I want to admit. Rats. Foiled again.

I'm a big girl now I suppose (bigger at least than the one who fell for ex-boyfriend, yikes, ask me about the housewarming poetry slam sometime) but I can't help but wonder if I perhaps do need to manage my expectations just a little bit. In the words of my co-worker Brian, "Dating is a numbers game, see a lot of people, hedge your bets, don't settle". I fancy Brian a bit of an off beat life guru. (He is also captain of non sequiturs and sweets. He fills the silence with statements like, "Luke Perry is a Dick" and the space in his top drawer with reeses. He can stay.) I am going to try taking his advice. Flings are good for the soul, just as long as the head keeps the heart in check. I doubt Scarlett Johansson is going to regret rolling around in Mexico with Sean Penn on her death bed, no ma'am, I do not think so.

Phone Sex and 2 Goats ~ Jacqui

So I am now 100% sure that there is no such thing as having uncomplicated phone sex with a former fling.

I know, same old sob story right? But seriously hear me out. I am fairly certain I have uncovered a new level of commitment phobia. He may be a new species, I can't be certain, but stay with me.

About a year ago I had FANTASTIC sex with this guy who then promptly freaked out and moved across the country. Those two things are likely unrelated. He freaked and then moved for a job months later. I just like to save space. Yada yada, we reconnected, started texting, then sexting, and so on and so forth as you do. (It's important not to judge me yet. Important to me that is.)

Well after one of our recent rendevous, he said: " I just want to make sure I'm managing your expectations". I think I actually snorted when I laughed. Then I had to put the phone down and roll around on the floor in amusement. I began thinking how my writing would never be clever enough to capture the absurdity of the moment. Suffice it to say, "Pardon?"

I'm having phone sex with my former hook up who now lives 3000 miles away. Oh yeah, I can see where he might worry I was getting the wrong impression. This all screams serious relationship is imminent. In some countries, regular phone sex and two goats equals common law marriage.

After I composed myself, which took some time, I thought, why do some men feel driven to remind us, even in the most casual of circumstances, that we shouldn't expect to be graced with their wonderfulness too long? I suppose when I was 19 I swooned a bit too easily. I will say that. Now that I am, well, not 19, I have things to do, like my taxes (how is it that I OWE the State of CA?) and worry about whether or not it's too late to go to law school. I know what going somewhere looks like, and this ain't it.

The moral of this story is, if you have a decent man in your life, think long, and think hard before you let him go. The dating pool is shallow and filled with man children.

In the words of the most eloquent Tracy Morgan "Everyone needs to calm down, take a deep breath, and prepare their bodies for the Thunderdome. That is the new law".

P.S. What do you think he'd do if I texted him that I was moving back East? Mooohaha, I'm mean.