Last night I watched a show about hoarders.
This woman was so emotionally attached to her, for lack of a better term, crap, that she couldn’t get rid of anything. When someone suggested she try separating herself, one item at a time, she broke down.
Today I was looking through my email and thought, “I should clear this out.”
I periodically clean out my inbox, but my folders are reminiscent of that hoarder’s rooms – riddled with debris.
I was nervous because there’s no going back from deletion, but I was doing an ok job.
Well, until I got to yours.
Showing posts with label emails. Show all posts
Showing posts with label emails. Show all posts
Monday, October 25, 2010
Friday, October 01, 2010
How you doin', daddy.
I currently have three unfinished blog posts in my folder. That has never happened to me before. I think the problem is, when I get interrupted from writing something, I lose my train of thought and it’s hard to get back to it later. I’m the sort of writer that has to sit down and do it all at one time, no matter how long it takes. I get flustered and irritated if I don’t.
One of the posts is about my mother and it’s undoubtedly the most difficult thing I’ve ever attempted to write. (One of my favorites wrote a brilliant post about her mother – it was incredibly beautiful. They aren’t really similar so I hope she won’t mind if I put it up soon. If you haven’t read it yet, please do. And tell her I sent you.) The second one is about the only love letter I ever wrote and the third is about my sister’s 18th birthday...in a manner of speaking. Which one would you guys be interested in reading the most?
Anyway, I know I’ve been writing a lot about dating and I hope you haven’t grown too tired of it yet. There just seems to be an endless amount of material there.
I’ve been getting messages from so many different characters. It’s almost like sensory overload. Just yesterday I was contacted by a single dad who, according to his profile, is way more straight laced than I am (like, all about God and shit), a large, redheaded professor at a local college, and a man that wanted to know where I buy my hair products.
“Your hair is awesome. What do you use and where can I find it?”
I’m serious.
And then last night I got this little gem from a guy in the military:
“Let’s be honest, all guys want sex. My case is a little different. I was deployed for a year and I spent the next year working two jobs, managing 23 interns in my own start up business, and going to school full time. Long story short, due to my life situation I haven’t had sex in two years. I don’t know how I kept my sanity. You can keep your pity cause I don’t want it, but I wanted to let you see that I’m not some guy lookin for a quick lay. I’m looking for a friend who likes and needs sex as much as I do. I have two years of passion to unleash on the right person and I find you to be stunning and completely attractive.”
Whoa there, Sparky. First of all – the guy looks like he’s playing dress up with his daddy’s fatigues. Second – Seriously? I’m not that fucking stupid. He needs to unleash that passion somewhere else...maybe get a fleshlight. The whole thing sounds like a desperate attempt to pass on some foreign version of herpes he caught on a dark desert night, and start an epidemic among the vaginas of America.
I immediately had to text a friend about it.
Me: Dude! You wouldn’t believe this freakin email I just got from this army guy.
Him: Send it to me.
Blah, blah, blah – issues with sending.
Him: Two years of passion? That’s a lot.
Me: Hahaha. Can you believe that shit?
Him: He just needs your vagina.
Me: He should order one then. No entrar.
Me: I just couldn’t believe anyone could have that much gall.
Him: He’s an American hero.
Me: So is my vagina.
Me: Neutralized plenty of weapons.
Him: Nice one.
Me: I know, right.
He was in a cranky mood because I’d pissed him off earlier, but had he not been...he totally would have laughed his ass off.
I haven’t responded to it yet because I honestly don’t know what to say. I probably won’t say anything. After all, even though I would never proposition someone like that; I can fully understand what it feels like to be unwillingly celibate. It sucks.
Then, this morning, I received an email from a guy in England. I wondered why on earth he’d contact me, but then I thought, “Maybe he’s a transplant and lives here now.” Nope.
The last question on my profile asks that I share something about myself that no one else knows. And the last sentence of my answer is, “Also, sometimes I burp.”
Him: Sometimes you burp?! Awesome, I love a girl with a good burp! Can you burp on cue?
Ok, I thought that was a bit strange, but it made me laugh. I figured it was a joke.
Me: Haha. As a matter of fact, yes. I can.
Him: Cool. I’m not ashamed to admit that I think it’s hot when women burp! Got any plans for this weekend?
Hmm. Ok...maybe he’s serious. Still, this could potentially be an interesting conversation.
Me: Nothing wrong with that. To each his own. I’m going out with friends tonight, but I don’t have any plans for the rest of the weekend. What about you?
Him: Exactly. I agree 100%! We all have our likes and dislikes, one of mine just happens to be women burping. I actually have a fetish for it if I’m being honest. I hope that doesn’t sound too gross...
I am beside myself with giggling by this point.
Me: Ha. I think a fetish is supposed to be a bit strange. Most people just don’t admit to them.
Him: Yeah they often are! I don’t go round shouting about mine, but why keep it to yourself all the time, you’re never going to be able to act on it if you do! I want one day to find a nice girl who can burp loudly and doesn’t mind burping in my face!
Oh...motherfucker. I dare anyone to say shit to me now about getting slapped in the face.
Me: Ha. I have no doubt you’ll find one.
Him: I hope so. All the cute chicks who burp seem to be thousands of miles away though!
Me: They are. Only uncouth American girls burp.
Him: Maybe it isn’t a burping fetish I have then, maybe it’s an American girl fetish! Haha I might have to get on a plane to find the girl of my dreams in that case!
Me: Perhaps it is.
It was strange because half of our conversation was normal and the other half...was like that. We talked about our jobs and traveling; I mentioned that I was planning a trip to England in the spring. Then he said that if I was near where he lived, and I felt like burping, not to hesitate. Like an idiot, I laughed and said “ok”. But in my defense, I was trying to treat the whole thing like a joke.
Him: I’ll hold you to that now you’ve said ok. I want to hear you burp now! Lol.
Me: haha.
Where do these people come from?
Right now I’m talking to two guys, other than Sam, frequently. One is very nice – exactly the opposite of what I would normally go for. And the other...the other was badass. His profile was hilarious – snarky, abrasive, smart. I loved it. We started talking and we had so much fun. But yesterday it took a turn into loony town.
He told me that he likes me. Ok, great, cool.
He told me he thinks I’m beautiful. Swell, thanks.
Then he told me that he wants to hold me and kiss me and lalalalala, etc, “I lied on my profile and the truth is that I actually have a vagina. P.S. – I will get sensitive when you back up and say you aren’t big on PDA. I’m on my period.”
Sigh.
It’s one thing if I know I’m talking to a lovey guy. It’s another for them to misrepresent themselves and then come out with this Casanova weirdo shit later on down the road. Psssh. Men.
In other news:
Tonight I have my third date with Sam. Well, I suppose you could call it the third. Technically all we accomplished on the second was a brief conversation and a sprint to his bedroom.
I know you guys are used to me completely spilling my guts and going into a detailed description worthy of a Harlequin novel, but somehow I don’t think I should right now. Suffice it to say – the sex was phenomenal and I don’t know if I’ll ever sleep with a younger man again.
I must go – errands to run, dancing in front of mirrors in my underwear singing “Waiting for tonight Oooooh!” to do.
One of the posts is about my mother and it’s undoubtedly the most difficult thing I’ve ever attempted to write. (One of my favorites wrote a brilliant post about her mother – it was incredibly beautiful. They aren’t really similar so I hope she won’t mind if I put it up soon. If you haven’t read it yet, please do. And tell her I sent you.) The second one is about the only love letter I ever wrote and the third is about my sister’s 18th birthday...in a manner of speaking. Which one would you guys be interested in reading the most?
Anyway, I know I’ve been writing a lot about dating and I hope you haven’t grown too tired of it yet. There just seems to be an endless amount of material there.
I’ve been getting messages from so many different characters. It’s almost like sensory overload. Just yesterday I was contacted by a single dad who, according to his profile, is way more straight laced than I am (like, all about God and shit), a large, redheaded professor at a local college, and a man that wanted to know where I buy my hair products.
“Your hair is awesome. What do you use and where can I find it?”
I’m serious.
And then last night I got this little gem from a guy in the military:
“Let’s be honest, all guys want sex. My case is a little different. I was deployed for a year and I spent the next year working two jobs, managing 23 interns in my own start up business, and going to school full time. Long story short, due to my life situation I haven’t had sex in two years. I don’t know how I kept my sanity. You can keep your pity cause I don’t want it, but I wanted to let you see that I’m not some guy lookin for a quick lay. I’m looking for a friend who likes and needs sex as much as I do. I have two years of passion to unleash on the right person and I find you to be stunning and completely attractive.”
Whoa there, Sparky. First of all – the guy looks like he’s playing dress up with his daddy’s fatigues. Second – Seriously? I’m not that fucking stupid. He needs to unleash that passion somewhere else...maybe get a fleshlight. The whole thing sounds like a desperate attempt to pass on some foreign version of herpes he caught on a dark desert night, and start an epidemic among the vaginas of America.
I immediately had to text a friend about it.
Me: Dude! You wouldn’t believe this freakin email I just got from this army guy.
Him: Send it to me.
Blah, blah, blah – issues with sending.
Him: Two years of passion? That’s a lot.
Me: Hahaha. Can you believe that shit?
Him: He just needs your vagina.
Me: He should order one then. No entrar.
Me: I just couldn’t believe anyone could have that much gall.
Him: He’s an American hero.
Me: So is my vagina.
Me: Neutralized plenty of weapons.
Him: Nice one.
Me: I know, right.
He was in a cranky mood because I’d pissed him off earlier, but had he not been...he totally would have laughed his ass off.
I haven’t responded to it yet because I honestly don’t know what to say. I probably won’t say anything. After all, even though I would never proposition someone like that; I can fully understand what it feels like to be unwillingly celibate. It sucks.
Then, this morning, I received an email from a guy in England. I wondered why on earth he’d contact me, but then I thought, “Maybe he’s a transplant and lives here now.” Nope.
The last question on my profile asks that I share something about myself that no one else knows. And the last sentence of my answer is, “Also, sometimes I burp.”
Him: Sometimes you burp?! Awesome, I love a girl with a good burp! Can you burp on cue?
Ok, I thought that was a bit strange, but it made me laugh. I figured it was a joke.
Me: Haha. As a matter of fact, yes. I can.
Him: Cool. I’m not ashamed to admit that I think it’s hot when women burp! Got any plans for this weekend?
Hmm. Ok...maybe he’s serious. Still, this could potentially be an interesting conversation.
Me: Nothing wrong with that. To each his own. I’m going out with friends tonight, but I don’t have any plans for the rest of the weekend. What about you?
Him: Exactly. I agree 100%! We all have our likes and dislikes, one of mine just happens to be women burping. I actually have a fetish for it if I’m being honest. I hope that doesn’t sound too gross...
I am beside myself with giggling by this point.
Me: Ha. I think a fetish is supposed to be a bit strange. Most people just don’t admit to them.
Him: Yeah they often are! I don’t go round shouting about mine, but why keep it to yourself all the time, you’re never going to be able to act on it if you do! I want one day to find a nice girl who can burp loudly and doesn’t mind burping in my face!
Oh...motherfucker. I dare anyone to say shit to me now about getting slapped in the face.
Me: Ha. I have no doubt you’ll find one.
Him: I hope so. All the cute chicks who burp seem to be thousands of miles away though!
Me: They are. Only uncouth American girls burp.
Him: Maybe it isn’t a burping fetish I have then, maybe it’s an American girl fetish! Haha I might have to get on a plane to find the girl of my dreams in that case!
Me: Perhaps it is.
It was strange because half of our conversation was normal and the other half...was like that. We talked about our jobs and traveling; I mentioned that I was planning a trip to England in the spring. Then he said that if I was near where he lived, and I felt like burping, not to hesitate. Like an idiot, I laughed and said “ok”. But in my defense, I was trying to treat the whole thing like a joke.
Him: I’ll hold you to that now you’ve said ok. I want to hear you burp now! Lol.
Me: haha.
Where do these people come from?
Right now I’m talking to two guys, other than Sam, frequently. One is very nice – exactly the opposite of what I would normally go for. And the other...the other was badass. His profile was hilarious – snarky, abrasive, smart. I loved it. We started talking and we had so much fun. But yesterday it took a turn into loony town.
He told me that he likes me. Ok, great, cool.
He told me he thinks I’m beautiful. Swell, thanks.
Then he told me that he wants to hold me and kiss me and lalalalala, etc, “I lied on my profile and the truth is that I actually have a vagina. P.S. – I will get sensitive when you back up and say you aren’t big on PDA. I’m on my period.”
Sigh.
It’s one thing if I know I’m talking to a lovey guy. It’s another for them to misrepresent themselves and then come out with this Casanova weirdo shit later on down the road. Psssh. Men.
In other news:
Tonight I have my third date with Sam. Well, I suppose you could call it the third. Technically all we accomplished on the second was a brief conversation and a sprint to his bedroom.
I know you guys are used to me completely spilling my guts and going into a detailed description worthy of a Harlequin novel, but somehow I don’t think I should right now. Suffice it to say – the sex was phenomenal and I don’t know if I’ll ever sleep with a younger man again.
I must go – errands to run, dancing in front of mirrors in my underwear singing “Waiting for tonight Oooooh!” to do.
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