my new best friend
so i breed thicker skin and let my lustrous coat fill in and i'll never admit that i loved you...



i wanted to call in sick today. i was showered, dressed, with keys in hand when it occurred to me. but then i thought better of it. which is good, because it turns out that two other people are out today from my department. i mean, good in a 'wow, monique, look how responsible you are' kind of way. i'm not feeling very loyal towards responsibility today. i'm in a 'fuck it all' mood, full of piss and vinegar. i feel like pulling out my sarcasm gun and aiming it anyone unfortunate enough to come near me. i feel like slamming a door just because. i feel like smiling but only if it's at the expense of someone's ego. i feel like letting the angry energy i keep trapped in a cage in my belly run loose for the day, knocking down innocents at will, and sinking its teeth into the not-so-innocent. but i won't. i never do. the thought of the wreckage to clean up afterwards... i'm not quite sure what the fuck i'm typing anymore.



i do like my wall. it's nice and cozy and familiar inside, and i don't have to run the risk of saying inappropriate things as long as i hide behind it.

but where does hiding get you, really? it's borderline dishonest. as soon as things started getting intimate with fez, i felt myself creeping behind my big fat wall. i didn't like the way he looked as i peeped out him. the wall changes everything. my perception; probably the way he perceives me.

what else to do? be honest? really fucking honest? just tell him how sometimes i might sound like a dumb psycho little girl, but to not let it scare him because i'm in full control of these urges. that i won't ACT crazy, just sometimes my head gets all crazy over a cute boy who's nice and sweet and funny and smart and killer in bed. but how to tell someone that without sounding crazy all the same?

when is it time to be honest? it's getting boring behind this stupid wall. it's comfortable, but 'familiarity breeds contempt' and all that happy shit.

sometimes you have to just ride the wave of dumb

i'm still dumb. and i think i may be falling. shit. double shit.

date #2 started at 9pm friday night. it didn't end until 6pm saturday. i'm a bad bad girl.

he even called in sick to work to hang out with me. i rock, apparently.

i'm gonna stop this here, to prevent me from gushing and rambling on.

warning: dumb girl alert


ugh. i'm such a stupid little girl.

so he tells me in a brief email yesterday morning that he owes me a decent lengthy email, and that he will deliver today. that when i got into work, there would be a huge email waiting for me. followed by this: "i promise."

now, an "i promise" regarding an email is not to be compared to the sort of "i promise" that might be followed by "to give you my right kidney if the need ever arises." but still... it's still an "i promise." i don't know if this bodes well for potential future promises. i'm not angry, just a little disappointed.

but he was at disneyland yesterday. maybe he's stuck under dumbo.

i'm always like this; i always get unreasonably let-down when a precedent falls.


date #2


fez asked me out again for friday. that is so cool. i can't wait. his awesome emails are continuing, and we're actually pussy-footing around each other regarding who should call who and when. i'm trying that whole girl thing out, where i'm trying not to call him. let him do the calling. turns out both of us were sitting around last night waiting for the other one to call. kind of pathetic, and kind of cute.

i'd just be happy to kiss him again.

i'm such a little girl right now. *sigh*



...can kiss my fucking ass. stupid fucking "server too busy" shit.

but i am still very much hotmail's bitch.

hotmail better watch it, though, or i'm gonna give fez my REAL email address and then where will hotmail be? huh?


internet date #2 goes by fez. at least, here he does. in the first picture i saw of him, he was wearing a fez, hence the nickname. the picture was taken at a costume party. i doubt he regularly wears a fez.

and he's awesome. saturday night couldn't have gone any better. we had a few drinks, and lots of interesting conversation. and laughs. laughing is important. and we stayed there until they kicked us out. and then we stayed in the parking lot talking until 3am. and then i went home.

but not before he kissed me. i wasn't sure if i wanted to kiss; trying to be a good girl and all. but he moved in and it felt right, and goddamn was it GOOD. very very good. VERY. that kiss has been spinning in my head ever since.

second date with internet guy #1 was yesterday. it went well, we had fun. but still no sparkage to report. and i think he realizes it, too. i'm going to hope this one kind of fades away and disappears for the time being. because i can't get fez out of my head.

this part is always so much fun.

oh shit


i haven't posted in a while. it makes me sad, but it also makes me happy, because i've had other things to do...

and something happened to my comments...they just up and disappeared. but no time to investigate now.

so my first internet date wants to get together again on sunday. actually, he wanted to get together on saturday, but i've already made plans with internet guy #2. awesome emails. and he didn't wait so long to want to meet. we'll see...

i have to go check steve's blog now, because he met his internet honey, and i must see how it went...

first internet date


you really have no idea what someone looks like if you only see one picture. if i hadn't met him outside his apartment building, i don't think i would've recognized him. so that was kind of awkward. i spent a few weeks glancing at his picture attached to his profile online, and i guess that's exactly who i was expecting to see (same pose, same lighting, same expression). now, there's nothing wrong with putting a few pounds on, but i think he was a good bit thinner in the photos i saw, making me think the pictures were probably a few years old. but, it's not like i posted my least-flattering photo to the website, either.

all in all, though, it was a good day. he's smart, and sweet, and he pays attention and asks questions--which is a lot more than most men seem to have going for them. i think it took us a few hours just to get used to actually looking at each other's live faces.

i'm interested in meeting a few other people i've talked to online, but i don't know if i'll ever get used to the jitters and the awkwardness that it brings. but i guess going on a first date with anyone makes you feel like that.

he asked, at the end of the night, if we could do it again, and i said yes. we'll see...

crossing over into the territory of "too much information"


alright, i am a victim of adult acne. i was a victim of childhood acne, adolescent acne, and it didn't seem to be interested in going away once my pituitary gland slowed down. i have been breaking out since i was nine years old. it's worse cyclically, waiting until the best possible time every month: when i'm already feeling crappy and bloated from the blessed miracle called menstruation. fortunately for me, i have the extra bonus of having a fabulously flexible system. i've been on every antibiotic (oral and topical) known to man over the last ten to fifteen years, and they all work for just a few months before the sneaky bacteria reorganize and develop a mean tolerance to modern medicine.

every once in a while, a friend will find it in their heart to hand me some lotion or soap or other over-the-counter nonsense and explain gently to me that it has worked wonders for them. i want to make it clear that i appreciate the thought and the gesture before i go on to say the following:

fuck off. really. do you think i'm dirty? that i don't know how to clean myself properly? that i eat the wrong foods? do you think that anything you can offer me can possibly be that radically different from anything else available at the drugstore that i've wasted thousands of dollars on over the last twenty years? it's not like bad breath--you're not doing me a favor by calling attention to something that, if you gave a shit you would realize, is a basis for constant insecurity. i am fully aware of my skin problem, as is my doctor.

it's genetics, dumbfuck. my mother has it, and my sister does, too. and we all have great health insurance and we've all consulted with qualified physicians. do you think in a culture like ours, where exterior beauty is so very important, that i have gone through life and not noticed what's sitting on my face? and now your good intentions have sent me into a self-conscious tailspin that will probably last the rest of the day.

i would like to note that i have yet to call your attention to the jeans that you wear every day, and continue to buy, that might be in a size that fit you twenty years ago but certainly do not fit you now. they are unattractive bordering on gross. it's called a cameltoe, and i can't believe that you look in the mirror and don't see it there, in all its glory. i have never once corrected you for saying "liberry" or "magazine prescription". and these are all things you can change.

if you have found information that will make changing my genetic predisposition as easy as you breaking down and buying clothing in the next size larger, feel free to fill me in. until that time, keep your drugstore gifts to yourself. i know you meant well, but fuck you all the same.


wake up, fool. i want to talk to you. log in and be here and tell me all the pretty things that make me crazy. that make me not care that we haven't met and yet still make me want to give it all to you. i wish you were here. i want to hear your voice. i want you to swallow me whole.


all very strange. to be so removed from this kind of life for all these years, and still love all the confusion, and unanswered questions.

but there's a certain doubt i'm not familiar with. did it come with time, with age? am i really all that different?

why do i want to jump headlong into this, all the while knowing it never led me anywhere good before...and it's not likely to end well now?

another one has crawled in. made a comfortable bed in my daily thoughts, whether he knows it or wants it.

the question is, when do i tell him? when do i show my hand?

from queserasera.blogspot.com:


Right now

I'm a mess right now. I want something absolute and beautiful. I want a sign. I want to kick your ass. I want to be left alone. I want to be so terribly indispensably important to just one person. I want to be madly in love. I want to have filthy, dirty, sweaty sex. I want to fall asleep wrapped up in you and wake up and smile. I want you to fuck off. I want to eat all of my favorite foods all at once. I want to be drunk and oblivious. I want to be sober and alone while the sun comes up. I want to drive fast. I want to sing, in the shower, in the car, everywhere. I want to hide in my room. I want to hit and kick and bite. I want to laugh and not give a fuck. I want to sob uncontrollably. I want to glide. I want to puke. I want to swallow the world whole. I want someone to stay awake so that I can fall asleep. I don't want to care. I want you to care for me. I want to know I'm alive. I want to know why.

I need a little something.

[4/9/2003 03:07:13 PM | Sarah B.]

and so the game begins

a few choice words. that's all it takes.

and he called me "delightful". is that not the best compliment? not too cheesy, not too forward, not too cliche.

now all i've got to do is meet him. get the guts to meet him.


one out of two ain't bad

so i never did call the guy who wants to meet. it just doesn't feel right for some reason.

BUT i did hint in my email response to killer email guy (keg) on friday that we should talk. and i got home early from a night out with coworkers on friday. log on, surf the net, and a new email comes in from him, saying that he's working on his email response to me but saw that i was online. i email back that i'm logged into a few instant messengers. he bites.

we ended up texting until about three a.m. he says he wants to talk to me live, wants to meet me. i talked to him for about half and hour yesterday (i cut it short because i was out with friends and they were wandering around outside the bar looking for me). then he called again today as soon as he saw me online and knew i was awake. we talked for an hour and a half. and he didn't want to get off the phone (at least that's what he said).

so far, keg seems pretty fucking cool. i'm terrified of meeting him, but i know the longer i allow great emails and phone calls to continue, the higher and more unrealistic my expectations will get.

i want to call him right now. it's hard at this stage, when you're just getting to know someone, and you want to talk to them for hours. i don't want to blow my linguistic load right up front. and i don't want to become a pest. so i'm determined not to call him again today.

i'll let you know how it goes.

a resolution


tomorrow is going to be "conquer all the crap day". seriously. don't laugh. and yes, snickering counts.

i'm going to call the guy who wants to meet.

and i'm going to tell the killer email guy that we should talk. well, maybe i'll just hint around and see if he bites.

so it will actually be "kinda conquer all the crap, in a weak but still acceptable way day".

so there's this guy...

a different guy than the one that wants to meet. who, incidentally, i'm supposed to call today or tomorrow, and i still haven't gotten up the nerve. and as far as i can tell i'm not even interested in him romantically, and i STILL am freaking out about dialing the stupid digits. pathetic.

anyway, there's this guy who i've been emailing with from one of those dating websites, and i am completely, utterly smitten with his emails. i am not smitten with him, because i am not an idiot, but his writing style kicks ass. he, unlike the aforementioned, has made no move to initiate a live conversation, or even an online chat for that matter. but he sends these amazing, amazingly long, incredibly well-written emails, that don't touch on anything remotely date-like but that are unforgettable all the same.

i swear the written word is like an aphrodisiac for me. i think i'm going to be forced to initiate SOMEthing, because i can't continue this email correspondence, becoming smittener and smittener (like how i made up a word just there, and used it twice?) with his writing, only to find out months from now that he's married, mean in person, and that the picture posted to the site is not a picture of him but his wildly-successful-with-girls buddy from college.

sigh. definitely pathetic.

online dating

crap. one of the guys i've been emailing with from a dating website has asked to meet.


it's not that i don't want to bring this into the real world, but i'm a nervous mess when it comes to situations like this. though there will be beer...so that'll probably help. yeah, i should just email him back and go for it. he wants to get together tomorrow. crap. maybe i should tell him to call me tonight. if i talk to him first, maybe that will help.


rth (again)

while it doesn't quite hurt to think about rth anymore, i'm still mega-curious about what the hell happened. i just don't understand why a 31-year-old man would call someone daily for six weeks, then completely disappear. i want answers, dammit!

but i know i won't get any. and that's alright, i guess. though, for practical reasons, it's better to find out the true nature of people sooner rather than later (once you get truly invested), my heart is still wearing a big question mark. she's truly confused as to what the hell happened.

and, fine, i'll say it. i miss him. i miss talking to him, i miss im'ing him, i miss the late-night sex chats. i have these emails that i haven't looked back on, but i remember what they say. the compliments, and the 'i miss you's. and now the complete disappearance of rth.

so if you see him, let him know i'm wondering how he's doing. and i'm not mad. or sad. or psycho. i'm just thinking of him. i wish he cared to know that.

this is pretty funny:

probably not true, but pretty damn good.

do you know...

how friggin' hard it is to get out of bed when there is a cat curled up next to you under the covers?