Smooth As Velvet

We already knew Ducati's moves worked on L (read: "strikingly handsome guy of 6'2, with piercing blue eyes and a suave demeanor"), but it appears he knows how to put the moves on the rest of her circle as well. I was about to take a shower the other day when I hear what I recognize to be his silky voice and sophisticated vocabulary. Tiptoeing onto the porch so as not to be exposed as the curious creeper, I encounter a humorous yet pleasing scene on the deck below. L and Ducati are seated side by side on the bench; the distance between them is small enough to confirm them as a unit in the picture but large enough to assert the appropriateness necessary when a high school couple meet the girl's parents for the first time. Ducati engages both my parents fully in conversation--my dad laughs from his position leaning against the railing and my mom glows from the table with her Mirror Pond Ale. "Charming, just charming," she later reflected to me about her first impressions. He even talked to my 13-year-old sister for a significant amount of time.

His game suggests substantial practice pleasing parents and it worked no differently with my family. Of course I'm always reserved, skeptical, and difficult to convince...

He brought me a multigrain bagel this morning after he took L out to breakfast...obviously he's bomb.

Valuable Lessons...life's weird so don't Judge a book by it's cover.

Ok so I've come to the conclusion that the longer I live,and admittedly I haven't lived very long, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, the education, the money, than circumstances, than failure, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill. It will make or break a company... a team... a home. The remarkable thing is we have a choice everyday regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past... we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude. I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% of how I react to it. And so it is with you... we are in charge of our Attitudes. Ok don't worry... hah I'm off my soap box now.

Lately though, my life has been challenging in more than one dimension( and unfortunately, it has taken a toll on my time and energy for blog postings...I apologize guys.)Anyway, although it's been rather crappy and I found myself in a place so lonely and dark I thought I'd never feel strong again. I just kept living every moment like a gift and seizing the day, even if it was a pain in the ass. Ultimately though, right when I thought I'd lost all faith in humanity, and come to the conclusion that all people are selfish, ruthless assholes with piss for brains, God smiled down and was like, hey, L, snap out of it, look at this freaking gorgeous wilderness, look at your friends, look at your school, look at your awesome life. Ha ok, so maybe I wasn't done on my soap box, but I'm done now I promise..

So...you're probably wondering, where is all this going? Well, in the midst of all this drama, I was working one day taking care of kids at the local park when Ducati rides by on his um..Ducati. He rides by me, not once, not twice, but FOUR times.Alrtight, at this point, we need to rewind and give ya some background..remember one of N's first posts regarding bad boys and Ducatis and what-not? Well, at that point Ducati and I were texting, but nothing else. We both hadn't seen, met, or heard each others actual voices . We tried on three separate occasions to meet up and "kick it", but alas, it never worked out. Eventually, we both just stopped texting each other and we both sorta forgot about the whole thing. Until....(fast-forwarding back to that fateful day at the park...)he decided to pass by , because he got word that I was there and wanted to see what I looked like...and apparently he came to the conclusion that I was pretty damn awesome. So, anyway, when it's time for me to leave the park and drive the kids home, my phone is blowing up with texts. (side-note: In oregon it is illegal to deal with any type of phone call, text, or etc while operating an automotive vehicle.)So naturally, I don't check my phone till I get back to the kids house and start making them dinner. Casually, I glance at my phone and see a very verbose text from Ducati explaining that he just saw me in the park and wanted to hang out that night. At this point, I'm like f*%# all boys. I'm sick of men. I don't give a damn. I get home and tell Noelle about the texts and invitations I had gotten from Ducati, and nonchalantly brush them aside, all the while complaining that I don't feel like hanging out. She's like, L, snap out of it, GO GET CUTEEE. Reluctantly, I take a quick shower(which is extremely out of character for me) and throw on some non-running clothes. At this point, I'm like, "This whole thing is going to be extremely humorous. Our personalities are going to clash horribly and it's just gonna be a funny disaster that I can write about later." N, sick of my negativity,( I swear I was just being a realist.) says L, come here, DRINK THIS. Suspiciously, I take this shot glass of pulpy weirdness and swallow it in one gulp. Immediately after swallowing, I take a sharp intake of breath, and scream profanities. N just juiced a freaking lime and gave me the straight juice. It's nasty shit, but it does the job.

So anyway, Ducati finally gets here. I walk down the front steps down from the street and, waiting to greet me, holding the door open, is a strikingly handsome guy of 6'2, with piercing blue eyes and a suave demeanor. WOW. So anyway, long story short, we get along perfectly. He wasn't at all what I expected. He's smart, bilingual, on a swedish reality t.v. show, humble, and has awesome theories about life and stuff just like I do. HUGE PLUS. As of late, we have become pretty much inseparable and exchange cheesy texts daily. Wow, life is unpredictable.Basically, moral of the story, NEVER EVER think you know what's coming up next, good or bad. Life's gonna prove ya wrong every time. (P.S. tons more stories to come that coincide with my soapbox rant at the beginning of the post...will be put up very shortly. But right now I have to go eat, I'm starving ha.)

A Verbose Late-Night Rant

Five days ago I started a post about a new summer fling, including expectations for our first date, and didn't quite have time to finish it. Four days ago I actually went on the date and then elected to combine two entries comparing expectations and first impressions. Now I find myself in an awkward situation after date number two, when I have decided the fling is actually over. That was quick wasn't it? Embarrassingly quick, in fact. Do I really get bored that easily? I don't think I can honestly chalk it up to bad luck given the fact that this is standard operating procedure for me. I meet a guy when I'm not expecting to, we hit it off, (or at least seem to because I am completely caught off guard) and then exchange info along with vows to "hang out". I am thrilled by the new possible love interest (a.k.a. fresh meat) and flattered by the fact that I gave a decent enough first impression that someone would want to see me again, as opposed to just giving them a temporary chuckle with some ridiculously odd facet of my personality. Assuming we do meet up, one of three things happens, all with the same result. I might discover that they're a douchebag, rude to others and generally not someone I want to associate with. Alternatively, I discover they're kind and shy and by definition awkward, meaning I have to play the role of the male and make all the moves, not something I enjoy doing and am very easily fed up with. The third possibility is that they're nice and sweet and must have been around the block a few times so they expect girls to just fall for that kind of shit. I think those are the worst kind of all.

What's wrong with nice and sweet? I'll tell you what's wrong: A sense of entitlement. I hate when a guy thinks that just because he got your number and hasn't done anything outright wrong, you're going to be head over heels for him. I'd been on one date with this particular boy before tonight (he needs a nickname but is by no means a bro...I'm gonna go with Panda because according to L, his spirit animal is a red panda) and tonight Panda was acting as if we were a freaking item. I was on the phone with my mom receiving some infuriating news about the charades of a family member and panda comes up to me, strokes my hand, and says, in a genuine-sounding, but genuinely fake concerned voice, "Are you stressed? You look stressed."

First of all, if I was stressed, you would not be able to understand, nor know what to do because you don't know me. Our first date was a movie; we've barely even talked before. Don't pretend to offer emotional support when we're practically strangers. Second of all, if you did know me, you would know that when I say "What the hell is wrong with that person?" I am not in need of any emotional support. I don't want a hug--I want to slap somebody. Which brings me to my third point, why are you touching me? Usually when you put your arm around me, it's entertaining for me to debate in my head whether you're serious or not, because if you are serious, then your touch affords nothing more than a humorous reminder of your delusions. Do other girls actually appreciate that? In this situation, I'm already pissed, so it just makes me want to smack you for being so belittling.

Occurrences like these kept me in a constant state of disgust towards Panda this evening, as we went on a double date with L and her new boy toy. Thank God Ducati was so engaging because the more time I was forced to converse with Panda and his delusions, the harder it was to resist being a cold-hearted bitch. L and Ducati continued to hit it off quite perfectly, however, which made it even more obvious how Panda and I did not get along. I tried to walk the fine line between honesty and manners--I was not interested in him anymore but he was supposed to be my date.

Finally, when Ducati professed a late night burger craving and announced that he had called a cab to take him and L there, I took the opportunity to exaggerate my fatigue and send Panda on his way. He wanted to know what day I want to get together next and I told him I didn't have my work schedule yet. Any guy would tell me I should just be up front and say I don't want to hang out again, but I elected to wait until I was a little less annoyed with him and could thus say so in as nice a way as possible. I suppose it was my fault anyway for not figuring out earlier that he gets on my nerves.

I'm fully aware of how harsh I sound, but I can't help it. Today my brother told me I'm going to die alone because I can't stand if boys call too much. Panda called me four times while I was working the day after we went to a movie...said he just wanted to say hi. That kind of stuff freaks me out. Summer flings are difficult because I'm not comfortable with the idea that someone could own you after a very short period of time so the idea of even trying to move towards that feels incredibly artificial. Panda tried to finish my sentences today and I just found it embarrassing. Let me speak for myself already and stop pretending to be associated with me. I want to speak for myself. I want to be responsible for myself. Very special people I hold near and dear in my inner circle and everyone else just feels like dead weight.

It's 2:28 AM. I've been back at my house for almost 2 hours. L and Ducati are still out on the town. Glad someone's having fun.