Date 13

I came this close (holding fingers extremely close together) to cancelling my date with Le Lycee. Not because I thought there would be anything wrong with him, but because I was tired. I realized it would be a bit rude to do so, and instead walked to a local watering hole to meet him.

Le Lycee was already seated with his non-alcoholic beverage. (He's sick.) He makes commercials and music videos, so we talked shop for a bit. He was wearing 2 rings (one on each hand), and one was on his pointer finger. I thought this to be an interesting choice.

As the evening continued (with easy conversation, I might add), I realized that he seemed quite short, even whilst sitting. This is not a huge problem, as I'm vertically challenged as well, but I was beginning to wonder if he was evenly proportioned.

If you Internet date long enough, there is a mental alarm clock that goes off as soon as an hour is up. He was coughing, I was yawning, so we called it an evening. We both stood up, and limbs and torso were all proportioned correctly.

Le Lycee is a lovely man. He's smart, interesting, attractive in a certain way, but he's not my husband. It's also not depressing at all that I haven't reached the 1/2 way mark and I'm sick of dating. Oh, and school starts on Thursday. Kill me already.

TONIGHT

I have a date with The Saint, whom I wish I had named Le Lycee. You know what? He's renamed. As a reminder, Le Lycee went to high school in Paris, and during my travels, he and I corresponded. It's time to meet face-to-face.

I do not know much about Le Lycee. As a matter of fact, I don't know if we even exchanged our real names. I think he may be blond. If we had kids, they'd look cafe au lait.

Exposition

Just a couple of tidbits for the Regulars. (FYI- In case you haven't noticed, I've named my followers, Regulars, and now it's been capitalized, as you can see. Much more catchy than Little Monsters, don't you think?)

First order of business

As an insane advocate of Paris, and now the French, I'm a bit hurt that I don't have Regulars in France. United Kingdom? Check. Israel? Check. Guam? If you can friggin' believe it, CHECK. I am sweating it up on this side of the pond, spreading the word that French people are just misunderstood, and they're actually quite fabulous. Don't let me down, France. I need a Regular from your country to show your support.

Second order of business

Now that the school year is starting, things are about to change. I'll have less time on my hands, and any free moment I now have, I'll want to spend it writing, performing, and yucking it up with my friends at a local pub down the street. Let's call a spade a spade. But as God as my witness, I will do my best to keep this little blog alive. I feel I could get an extra surge of energy if I were to acquire a French Regular. Just sayin'.

Final order of business

I'm serious about the Jason Bateman thing.

Lazy Bones

I know I set the goal to get to 15 by the end of next week, but the follow through has been difficult since I cannot keep my eyes or energy up past noon. Not many people, including close friends, really care about my jet lag. Something about "getting the opportunity to see parts of Europe for free" disables the region of the brain that transmits empathy.

HOWEVER, Tall does want to se me tomorrow, so if that happens, I could be on my way. Some of you are probably wondering what in the heck is up with Tall. There hasn't been a lot of chatter. Tall is smart, funny-like, a quirky dresser, mature... I could go on and on. The only problem is this: I'm not getting the tingles in my special purpose. This is a shame, but a fact.

I'm frightened because those tingles seem to fade pretty quickly as of late. Back in the day, if I had the hots for I guy, I could tingle for MONTHS! Now I'm lucky if it lasts through the night. I think the only cure is Jason Bateman. So I do hereby declare Operation Break Up Jason Bateman and his Pregnant Wife. Who's with me?

Mass Consumption vs. Sleep Deprivation

Ugh. I haven't believed in the devil since I was a child, but now I'm beginning to rethink his existence. His name is not Lucifer, or Beelzebub, nor even Antichrist. It's Jet Lag. And I condemn him to HELL.

Forcing myself to stay up until 9 pm was an awesome treat, and then it was topped off with a poisoned cherry called "Let's go ahead and make you wide awake at 3 am." And one always knows what one does when one is up at such an hour. Stew.

This is not a blog about how much I need to do to prepare for the first day of school, so won't talk about that. It's also not about wanting to start a new project, but must wait until Mercury is no longer in retrograde, so nothing about that. It's about dating a bunch of men I would not normally date because I'd rather hang out with my friends. Let's begin.

I'm sick of the ups and downs of this blog and how long it's taking. My need for instant gratification has hit a pinnacle. I want to be done already. I want to write the conclusion. The epilogue, for Christ's sake.

So this is what I need to do: Set goals. And goal #1 is to get to the halfway mark by the end of next week. That means 3 dates, with only one planned for now. The side effect for this neurosis is that I must swim in unchartered waters just to GET ON WITH IT.

Home Sweet Home

I absolutely loved my time abroad, but I am very happy to be back in the States. Jet lag is at it's finest, as I'm bright eyed and bushy tailed at 5 am. I'm embracing it as it gives me time to write, run, and wash my hair before work. This trifecta has never happened before.

Let's re-calibrate. Tall and I have communicated a bit while I was away, but not sure where that's going.

I have, however, been corresponding with a fellow or two via the date site. Introducing The Saint. He went to hight school (Le Lycee) in Paris, so as you can imagine, there's been a lot of back and forth due to my visit. He seems intelligent, and he has a job. These are pluses. We are planning a casual date on Monday.

Introduction 2: The Jew (gotta love a man that puts his religion in his handle). He's a comedy writer for a somewhat prominent show and we know similar people. Could be a problem, so further investigation is needed.

Next, The Cub. Actual text from his bio:

Tired of girls....i'm looking for a mature woman 35+ to show me a few things.

I'm kind of inexperienced in bed but have a few fetishes...would love to find someone who could possibly be into showing me a thing or 4

My day job is teaching, so as you can imagine, I'm not too keen on that one.

In other news, I saw a man at the Houston airport that was all flirty-flirty with a girlfriend of mine in June. He had on a wedding ring. I asked when he got married. He said he has always been married. That was not the case when he was all up in my girlfriend's face. Can't wait to marry a man. It seems so glamorous and all.

Amsterdam

Our last night in Paris was pretty low key and we're now in Amsterdam. We completely blew our load in France, so the rest of the trip should be boring for the blog, but rejuvenating for me. I miss American blow dryers, air conditioning, and easy access to water.

Date 12

Obviously, if I lived in Paris, this blog would have been completed in July. Last night was a whirlwind.

Amy and I spent a month's worth of salary on dinner at some hotspot called La Villa. When we were done, we needed suggestions of where to spend our Friday night. Amy noticed a table of 3 men and suggested I approach them, since I'm the French speaker. I did because I'm a different person whilst out of the country. They were all very attractive and suggested that Amy and I join them as they have a table at "the hottest club in Paris, L'Arc."

Amy and I are not club people, but when in Rome... Come to find out, our new friends (Achmed, Z, and Sammy) were Lebanese. I'm Lebanese, and a fan of dark, hairy, Mediterranean men, so I had a feeling the night would be good.

We get to the club, and it's a who's who of big breasted women and tiny black dresses. The men ordered an enormous bottle of Grey Goose, and we all know what that will get you.

Long story short, Amy sucks face with Achmed, and Z pulls up 2 Brazilian girls for himself. Hairy chested Sammy and I ended up having a lot in common, and I'm not proud to say that I made out with yet another fellow on a dance floor for the second night in a row. Things got a little weird when Z started hitting on me, and I had a sneaking suspicion that Sammy was ok with it. Exit stage right. We got home safely.

I have one more night in Paris and must leave early in the morning for Amsterdam. I never want to leave this Disneyland-like place for single women. Le sigh.

Date 11

I know that this is cliche, but I am in love with Paris. IN LOVE WITH IT. If Paris were a man, I'd throw it up against the wall, have my way with it, and get pregnant on purpose so it would have to be in my life forever. But most importantly, it is the setting for the magical numbr 11 date.

I have not mentioned my travel partners, but I'm here with my roomies, B and Sash, and bestie, Amy. After an evening stroll and a few glasses of champagne, we split up so the boys could hit the gay bars and the girls hit everything else.

We ran into a local jaunt and quickly met Blaise (yup, that's his name) and Quentin. Then their friend Dunno (not his name, I just don't know) joined us and I was able to practice my French. Dunno complimented me and said if I were to move to Paris for a month, he thinks I could be fluent. This made me very happy and I am now planning to do so next summer. Or Canada, I suppose, but that doesn't sound as exciting.

Many glasses of red wine later, it was on the dance floor with Quentin. It didnt take long for him to ask me if he could kiss me. Cute. Not sexy, but cute. And then it was on. Quentin couldn't take his hands off of me, bought me a rose, told me I smelled good, and was quite possessive on the dance floor. He was my boyfriend for one glorious evening.

By the by, Quentin is 22. I could be his young cool aunt, but I think pedophilia is encouraged here.

Sidebar: Amy kissed Dunno as we hailed a cab. She told me later that he is the spitting image of her brother-in-law, so that's non-creepy at all.

Still Day 1 in Germany? I Think.

It's the middle of the night in Munich, and I cannot sleep. What I really want to do is eat breakfast and start my day, but since it's not day, that is impossible. Last night was not as eventful as I had hoped. When the rest of my travel party arrived, we headed to a main square for eats, drinks, and people watching. We braved the subway and hoped for some serious German action. And then jet lag set in. It was over, and we had to come home to be fresh for tomorrow. But alas, I fear I will not be fresh, as I'm up at 3am, blogging.

Things you should know about the German people:
1) They are not ugly.
2) Every one of them speaks English and quite well.
3) In time of need, they are very helpful to Americans.
4) They are not afraid of public displays of affection.
5) They can link 16 letters together (in an order that would never cross an English speaker's mind), and it's a word.

I did not snag me one of these men last night, and quite frankly, the timing was all off. Concentrating on not standing in the bike lane, eating sausages and sauerkraut, and being jealous of all of the PDA has preoccupied me. If I can get to sleep at all tonight, I will try harder tomorrow.

Germany!

We made it over the pond in one piece which is not difficult when you're flying first class (compliments of my awesome roommate). Seriously, if you ever get the chance to do such a thing, I highly recommend it. It's as if the flight didn't even happen. And now, we're in Europe: the land of embellished jeans and male ponytails. We met a man named Wolfgang at a local eatery who claimed to be a "politic comic". It is not a date because 1) he did not purchase our drinks and 2) he was older than dirt. I will do my best to get to date 11 tonight as not to disappoint my regulars.

Auf Wiedersehen!

Adios Mexico. Hello Munich.

Greetings from the Cabo airport. My hotel didn't have free Internet, and since Cabo is expensive (surprise!), I decided to give the blog a rest. The Mexican people are so nice, I'm sure they rival the Canadians. There were a plethora of good looking men, but since I was traveling with 8 girls from Texas, concentrating on acquiring a date was almost impossible. So, my friends, we are currently stuck at 10, but I hope to break this drought in Germany as the rumor is the gentlemen there are, how do you say, hot.

Date 10

I'm writing this out of sheer exhaustion. I did everything I set forth for myself today. But you don't care. Let's get to the meat of the matter.

Tall came over, and after indulging me for a moment about packing, we sat down in the living room and talked about nothing and everything. He offered me a coupon for a free year's subscription to IMDPro, and he seemed sincere about it. As he was leaving, he kissed me, which caused my head to be in an abnormal position for a smidge longer than it should have been. We said our good-byes. A whole 13 days without each other...

It has taken me all day to pack this God-forsaken bag for 4 countries. (Oh BTW, we decided to skip Salzburg.) Not to mention, my roommate made gruyere cheese lasagna with asparagus and mushrooms, and I couldn't eat it because I have to be in a damn bikini tomorrow.

Jesus, I just read that last part and have realized that I have become the kind of woman I detest. I need to go call my therapist/psychic to figure this one out.

Bon Voyage

Today is a stressful day, as it's my last in the States before I leave the country for 13 days. Having to pack for 2 different climates is enough to set me into a maniacal tizzy. I also have to pick up meds, get the nails did, hit the gym, have lunch with my cousin... These, my friends, are white girls' problems. I will stop complaining.

Evidentially, Tall and I speak 2 different languages, as he wants to see me before I leave. I sincerely thought he broke up with me when he said, "See you next school year," but apparently he was kidding? He has agreed to come watch me pack. Lame, I know, but it looks like I'll get date 10 in before my flight tomorrow.

Spice It Up

I don't know if I told y'all that Neighbor left town 21 days or so ago, but now he's back. I saw him as I a was driving home from the grocery. He seemed to be in a better mood than he was the last time we encountered one another. He sheepishly approached my vehicle for a short, whimsical exchange, and then he backed away prematurely.

You know those people that you know you should stay away from, but a part of you doesn't want to? That's Neighbor.

Get me the hell out of town, before I do something foolish.

And Then There Where None

Tall broke up with me last night, and I can't say that I blame him. He asked me to come to his place of employment so he could serve me a drink, and I just didn't have it in me. So, in a very sweet way, Tall told me to go fly a kite.

Recovering from Vegas takes me a few days, and I'm leaving the country on Thursday. I don't have time for late nights and headaches right now. Plus, since I'll be living in a bathing suit for the next week, consumption is on hiatus. I know what you're thinking. "But Reluctant Dater, if you really liked him, you would sacrifice such things." Perhaps earlier in life I would have, but I've grown selfish in my old age.

I am back down to zero suitors, which feels good right before a big trip. The iPad will be joining me on my Magellan-like travels, so sporadic posts should happen. I feel the rules of the blog will change a bit, as I can't picture a native asking me out on a formal date. I foresee a handsome gentleman (or 2, or 3...) buying me a drink and having a lovely conversation. In Mexico and Europe, that will be considered a date. If this is a successful trip, perhaps we can get to the teens before my homecoming.

All Quiet on the Western Front

We made it back from Vegas safely, but extremely exhausted. I have a theory that the road from LA to Vegas is a straight line and the road back was designed by a 3 year old art student. It took 7 hours to do a 4 hour trip, and that's not frustrating at all. Being in Vegas really puts things into perspective. It feels like the whole city looked in the mirror in 1985 and said, "OK, this is it. This is our look. FOREVER."

Since I really only have 3 days of downtime before I leave the country, getting a date in could prove to be difficult. Tall may want to see me, but Tall is a lot of work. He's a night guy, and I have a lot of day time stuff I need to do before I leave. We'll play it by beer.

I am corresponding with a gentleman via the dating site. (I know, it's been awhile.) Introducing The Saint. He is from California but went to high school in Paris. He likes to use big words, which I dig, and thus far he finds me to be delightful. I hope he doesn't run into Logger before I get back. Don't want my smoke and mirrors to be revealed too soon.

Beer and Moaning in Las Vegas

I was not going to blog whilst in Las Vegas, but I lied. Amy, Ash, and I arrived last night, via SUV, around midnight. Quick costume change and then downstairs to the lounge. We were immediately spotted by Curtis (sporting a flavor savor, of course), and he bought us a round of drinks. About an hour later, Curtis was falling down drunk, and I was able to diplomatically get him to go pass out, but not before he hugged Ash so hard I thought she would pop a blood vessel. A few champagne cocktails later, 2 of us went to bed.

Cut to 10am. Where's Ash? Oh, she probably met someone. Yup, she met someone all right. Amy and I moseyed on down to the casino and Ash was still up, playing blackjack, with an extra $2,000 in her pocket. But my favorite part of this reunion was meeting her companion, Red. Red had cornrows and summer teeth. Some were there, and some were not. He was a novice at subject/verb agreement and he loved our little Ash. And who wouldn't? Everyone loves a winner.

Amy and I then decided to go to the topless pool. Just for the experience you guys. No funny business. The topless pool is disgusting. Not because the only topless women are the last people you want to see topless (and one playmate with a hot pink thong and everything, via 1987), but because we saw 2 floating hairs in the pool within 15 seconds.

And then we met Crissy. Crissy is a 23 year old Canadian. She was wearing an 80's inspired bikini, unbeknownst to her, and Amy called her over to compliment her. Crissy had not been on a plane since 6th grade and freaked out that we were from Los Angeles. When she found out that we were originally from Texas and Louisiana, she flipped out even more. We didn't dare tell her we were comics, fearing her head may implode.

After melting and witnessing 8 pairs of stark white breasts later, we decided to take a margarita up to the room and watch ghost documentaries. So we're having a blast.

Vegas Baby

Tonight, I leave for Vegas with my lady friends. I detest Vegas, but I love my girls, so sacrifices must be made. Since I've seen the type of men that go to Vegas (Present company excluded, of course.), I don't think there will be any news worthy blogging. But one never knows.

Logger has disappeared, which is for the best. I had a lovely time with him, but we were not meant to be. Tall and I had a short text exchange yesterday about inside jokes. Very cute, but I'm exhausted.

My globe trotting begins on the 11th, and I have a lot to do until then. I need a rest from dating, stand-up, and boring summer TV. Although, it would be nice to get date 10 in before I leave. Regulars, can you believe we're almost a third through this project? All I want for Christmas is my 30th date.

Date 9

******ATTENTION******

REGULARS! IF YOU SEE ME OUT WITH A MALE COMPANION, PLEASE DO NOT MENTION HOW MUCH YOU LOVE THE BLOG. IF MY EYES BUG OUT AFTER YOU COMPLIMENT ME, PLEASE STOP TALKING AND CHANGE SUBJECT ASAP.

Tall picked me up and we drove to a quaint part of town to have sushi. He had ordered some absinthe via the Internet, and it had arrived, so we took a shot before we ate. (Strip clubs and absinthe - Tall is a fun guy any way you slice it.)

We then took a cab to to the Greek Theater and remarkably showed up just as the show started. We made our way down to the pit, saw some friends of mine, and swayed to the music.

When the show ended, we talked to my friends, whom I had not seen in quite some time. OK, yes I was flattered that they like the blog, but this is where the PSA from above comes into play. Tall now knows I do a blog, but doesn't know what it's about. I keep changing the subject, and it has worked thus far.

I like Tall, but I have to be honest with myself and you guys. Tall and I live opposite schedules, which can work over the summer. Once school starts, I will be in bed by 11, at the latest, and up by 7. Everyday. Period. Those are the facts. I've dated his kind before, and it always ends when school starts. Not even love can beat a good night's sleep.

Date 8

Well folks, I'm pretty sure it's the beginning of the end with Logger. It may also be the end of the end, but every time I think that's the case, the phone rings. Nonetheless, it seems this train is heading to Splitsville.

Logger is always a gentleman and picked me up for our movie date. We saw Horrible Bosses. My assessment? Eh. Too many butt jokes and men trying to talk louder than their costars in order to steal the scene, but entertaining-ish. And can someone please tell me where this fountain of youth is, from which Jen Aniston is obviously drinking? Jeesh, the body on that woman.

Anywho, watched movie, drove me home, weird peck (on the lips) to say goodbye, and then I get out of the car and my southern gent didn't wait to see if I got in OK. Just drove off.

Here's the deal: I don't care if you're a woman, man, or child, one should always wait to make sure that their friend gets into the house safely at night. It's common courtesy. I don't want to get all feminist on anyone, but I must say that I feel this is a bit more of an issue for women, as we lack the upper body strength. AND, it was a change in behavior as he's always made sure I got in OK in the past. So there's that.

What's a girl to do? Well, I'll tell you what I did. I walked by myself, in the dark, to a local pub down the street to meet my friends. Because if I can escape nighttime walkers in front of my house with my roommates home, surely I'm on a roll.

Tonight is Date #9 with Tall. We're going to a concert. I'm betting on a good time, but I'm pretty sure he's not my husband either. This trip abroad could not come at a more perfect time because I think it's time to CONTROL+ALT+DELETE this social experiment. I have some ideas how to switch it up so it's about to get INSANE. Well, in September.

Today's Schedule

Thankfully, I took a night off from dating last night, which I used to read a Shape magazine, peruse fashion blogs, and watch the season finale of The Bachelorette. (On a side note, Ashley's sister is a PIECE OF WORK.)

Tonight, Logger and I will go to the movies. I am thankful for this, as, according to my studies, dating requires large volumes of consumption. I'm sick of consuming. Especially since I will be living in a bikini in about 10 days.

Oh, this reminds me. I have some bad news for my regulars. I'll be leaving the country for a good portion of August, and the blog will be sporadic, I'm sure. I'm sorry, what's that? You want to know where I'm going? I don't want you to be jealous, but since you're insisting...

In this order:

1) Cabo

2) Munich

3) Salzburg

4) Paris (yes!)

5) Amsterdam

I know, I know. It seems so unfair, but one time I dated a guy who knocked-up his ex while we were still seeing each other, so these things happen. GET OVER IT.

Date 7

You should go get a cup of coffee, or a snack of some sort, as I have a tale to tell.

Tall and I had our first fight before he got to my house because I told him that he didn't have to do the right thing and come to the door. I just wanted him to text me because I didn't want to put him through the meeting of the 2 gay roommates, the crazy dogs yapping, an explanation for the messy living room, blah, blah, blah... It's just too much. He, of course, wanted to do the right thing, and we had a fake first fight about it. ADORABLE!

We then drove to a local Mexican eatery and this is when it got OOC (out of control). Our amazing bartender just broke up with her girlfriend of 8 years. She was giving us free tequila and enjoying a few of her own. And then, oh I don't know, did we drive her and her friend in Tall's MINI VAN (yeah, that's right), to a strip club where we saw MISCHA BARTON (what?), and eventually stand in a corner looking at pictures of a stripper's kid on her phone? Yes we did, ladies and gentlemen.

So here we go. Tall obviously rocks. He's smart, funny, quirky... Oh the adjectives I could use. But Logger rocks too, but in a different way. Ugh. This is so hard, you guys. I'm in like with 2 men at the same time. So this is how the Bachelorette feels.