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May 3, 2011

HALP!? Paleeeeeeeaaazze? (Imagine Fifth Element... Back of the cab)

Maybe you guys can help me out a little bit here. It was just brought to my attention that there is a serious issue with a great many women… a certain sect of ladies… okay a select few females… FINE… maybe just Trance Jen and me.

We were chit chatting on G-Talk and she brought up the point, “We don’t know how to date.” Which I heartily agreed with and followed her position with… oh here, I’ll just show you the conversation (with Jen’s granted permission):

Suzanna: I am a serial monogamist
Trance: yes
Suzanna: in a BAD way
Trance: I know, me too
we don't know how to date
Suzanna: nope... i know how to 1) fuck or 2) be your everything
Trance: I KNOW

So I put it to you… Internet Friendishnesses, what are we doing wrong?

And Dave and Sarah, I swear, if y’all just leave a comment with, “TRY HARDER!” then we are SO breaking up.

The reason I ask is because I have either been completely single (read: WHORE) or in a committed relationship since I was barely 10 years old. Okay, that is a total exaggeration. Let’s say… since I was 13. I have been alone, someone’s sweetie or someone’s wife (bitch/slave/better half/significant other/Corsican Twin/whatever).

I did try the whole “dating” thing in college. I made a pact with myself that I could date as many men as I wanted and NOT sleep with them and it would be fine. A little sociological experimentation, if you will. And I KNOW You (points, no not you.. YOU… No… YOU… Yes! You.) will.

I dated like 7 dudes for about 3 weeks and holy shit was that exhausting. The reasoning was sound. I was cute, I could dance, I cleaned up nice, I was polite and I didn’t eat much. They all knew of one another so there was no subterfuge. They got to have me on their arm and I got to have dinner that didn’t involve the words, “Gimme a spoon and the peanut butter jar.” I finally got tired of it when one too many beaus tried for more than what we had agreed on in the first place.

#4: C’mon baby, just a kiss goodnight.
Me: Um, no.
#4: Why not? We’ve been out like three times and the most you’d let me do is hold you tightly when we waltzed.
Me: Dude, that was a LOT… in a waltz I have MY FRAME (arms out to show personal boundaries) and YOU have YOUR FRAME. Night! (waltz away from #4’s truck and into my apartment.)

Oh, friendishnesses, isn’t that always the way?

No? Yes. YES, it IS… dammit.

Example. Oh you KNOW I have one for you. Remember the guy from the ”Shut Up, My Vagina is NOT Boring!” entry? No? Well, here’s the run down. He’s freaking adorable. 6’2”, handsome, great smile, full head of hair, pretty teeth, musically inclined, smart as a whip, he’s employed, no kids, not married*, not gay and onto more important things… he thinks my motherfucking tractor is sexy. Or you know. Me. He thinks I’m funny, smart, witty, beautiful and he likes to feed me. (I see a theme.)

*Don’t have to be worried about some jilted wife shanking me in the parking lot at Target. What? It could happen.

So the cutie pie is basically perfect on all levels. EXCEPT ONE. Y’all know my issues with the whole sleep thing. I’ve talked about it on here a few times in my… (Jesus) almost a decade rambling on to you good people. The sleep thing boils down to one issue. I feel forgotten. That’s it. That’s my damage.

When X (first one) was a dick I put up with it. When he fucked around, I put up with it. When he was rude, I put up with it. When he stole money from his child, and me, I DID NOT PUT UP WITH IT. That is saying, “You don’t mean anything to me. You are forgotten.” When Mr. X stopped sleeping in the same room, stopped talking to me, stopped seeing me, touching me, hearing me… I put up with it until I felt completely invisible. Then I did NOT PUT UP WITH IT. I was forgotten. I got out.

Yeah, y’all, I know this is MY issue. MY baggage.

But within the past few days I was forgotten by the cutie pie. We had plans for Sunday. I came home early from San Antonio and then on Sunday when he was supposed to come over, I cooked. (Stop looking so shocked… I freaking take good care of my lover**(s)).

**(Sean Connery impersonation) “THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE!”

2 o’clock rolled around, nothing.
3 o’clock rolled around, nothing.
4 o’clock…. Dear God, y’all get it, right?

So around 5… after I turned the heat on the meal down to warm… I texted him. I was nice. Oh my dear sweet baby Jesus, I was nice. He had fallen asleep and forgotten. Then woke up at 5pm in a panic when he saw my text.

It hurt my feelings, yo.

Whatever, basically we’ve been back and forth since Sunday on text talking about everything. He wanted to come over … I said no. I knew I’d go into consoling mode. It’s how I’m wired. He asked me what I wanted to do yesterday… I asked, “Want to do? Or Should?” He was like “Want.” I just replied back, “I want you to come eat your damn pot roast.”

Emily Post took NOTES from me, bitches.

Today there is a small twist as what started out as a purely casual relationship has turned into, “Dude, do you want me to be your girlfriend or something?” “I’m leaning towards yes but don’t want to scare you away as that is the last thing you signed up for.”

I have like two and a half hours to decide what I want to do.

Halp?

Also… If you have my cell number. NOW would be a good time to text me.

About May 2011

This page contains all entries posted to Suzanna Danna in May 2011. They are listed from oldest to newest.

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