triple time
my doctor put in the call for rehab therapy.supposedly some very nice indian man is going to teach me how to swing my legs over my head, once again.i'm looking forward to someone touching me, inappropriately - i can only hope - and making me feel good all over - i can only hope.3 days a week...for the next 3 months...i'm going to have a steady date with a man - who's getting paid to touch me.this, is my life.
9 out of 10 mexican men, on ditmars blvd, agree
that...even with a gimp...i'm still sorta cute.this isn't the way i prefer to have my leg up in the air...know what i mean...know what i mean...i had an mri today.the technician was not cute.i was hoping he would be.he was un-cute and married.he grabbed my legs.he tossed them in a brace.he placed a blanket over my badonk a donk body.he closed me in my mri coffin.i have a torn pcl.i have to go through 3 months of intense physical therapy before i do any 'sporting' again -so the doctor said.maybe i'll score a hot mexican therapist.maybe we'll live happily ever after, and he'll teach me the glory of throwing my legs up in the air - once again.
the spell
this past thursday i spent the evening with a pair of my boyfriend's friends.
this couple just had twins - in december.
so we went to their killer apartment in Condado, to see the little girls, and thus began my spiral to the land of "i never thought...."
children make me nervous. i find them intimidating, suspicious, and in general, nothing i'd ever want popping out of me.
my man, on the other hand, LOVES children. he speaks to them as people (as opposed to my confused grunts in their direction), loves to pick up babies, and has that magic "he managed to put them to sleep!" quality. he just has a magic touch with children. he loves them, they love him.
i find this very very suspicious.
so we go on this rockin' thursday night to see the newborn twins, and suddenly my suspicions were proven right. in a matter of minutes, MINUTES, the two thieves that call themselves teeny tiny baby girls managed to COMPLETELY destroy any chances i had of never having children. little by little, through tiny feet and sleepy faces, through sleeping on my boyfriend's arms and that ferocious baby smell, these ruthless twins stole my heart, stealing my freedom as well.
i believe this little trip to the twins' lair was merely a cheap ploy of this man of mine to get me to stop proclaiming that i hate kids. he probably planned and conspired with those two little "angels," using their ridiculous beauty to lure me in, falling into a trap i'd never figure out an escape to.
by 10pm on thursday night, my biological clock, once thought non-existent ("never having kids, dude. never!"), was turned on, kickstarted, pulled into action. and i'm desperately trying to SHUT THAT THING OFF.
this is dedicated to purpley
i finally left my apartment, and made contact with humanity...late night found me at a quiet dinner with my argentine goddess - at the best little eatery in my hood.eff i die for their tostones.i made inappropriate sexual comments about our waiter...who i am in love with...i felt like a woman again.although, the cards are stacked in either of the sexes favor...as i cannot tell if he's in to tapping my ass or tapping that of the male bartender.before i went out last night, i received a phone call.a phone call from one, purpley...i worry about her. i worry about me because of her.i worry that once she leaves ny, my life will be desperate.a ny without purpley...a ny without temporican...where have all my multicultural gurls gone?everyone i love eventually leaves ny...and, usually, if i start to date/like/bone someone - they'll move...see you in japansee you in coloradosee you in lasee you in puerto ricesee you in texas/seattle/iowa/cali/wherever you end up...but this is about more than boning...it's about something purpley said.purpley, who, in all the years i've known her...has never gotten goopy or shmoopy over a guy...and she was last night...so goopy, in fact, that she said: 'i really like to lay on him.'and it made me smile...and i rolled over on my kind sized pillow...and i gave him a nice grip...and my phone rang...and it was a woman with a hot accent...and i'm a sucker for accents (and i knew what i was getting into, unlike my last phone call from a man with an accent)and i left for dinner...i came home home...i popped a unisom (with this bum leg, sleeping is just a not a happenin')i rolled over on my king sized pillow...i gave him a nice grip...i watched paula deen crack bad jokes on a special episode of 'paula plans a luau' (so bad, they're good - i heart her)i went off to sleep...i dreamt of coconut cakes and men in grass skirts...stripping...
i had crush
and by crush, i mean thoughts of this man made and still make my heart flutter.he,who, to this day...will forever remain one of the hottest, funniest and large lipped men - i have ever had the pleasure of surrounding myself with...there was an email exchange between me and this man today.and he wrote in the subject: babycakes.everytime i walked into the sound studio, where he worked, he would walk over to me - hug me, kiss me on the cheek and call me baby.or babycakes.we made out one night.i was wasted.it happened at promax.one of these big parties for tv people that work in promo.down and durty all you can drink.and i made out with him in the mens bathroom of a bar on 8th ave.no, i'm not ashamed.i'm proud.we were able to joke about it afterwards.and talk like human beings, even now.i wish everyone could be that way...as i've just made quasi plans to re-visit my past and meet up with the boy i kissed, who nearly stomped on my heart and good intentions - last summer
i've fallen
i'm working from home...and this is just some of my morning banter with a friend. producer pro to thecrutchacan you do me a favor and take a look at this trailer? the file might be too large for your work computer, let me know how it goes.thecrutcha to producer pro:hey, i'm working from home and my computer can't do this. i'll be back in the office on monday. i had a little fall and knocked myself up a bit.producer pro to thecrutcha:oh my. you and your crazy new dance moves. please feel better!thecrutcha to producer pro:you know me, i have to keep up with the kids and their crazy dance moves...or, trip over some cables and fall flat on my face at work...so loudly, people came out of their edit because they heard me hit the ground.it's the flyest dace move yet.producer pro to thecrutcha:saddest and yet funniest story yet. coffee came out of nose...thecrutcha to producer pro:i'm graceful, like an elephant.
yeah, i was wondering what 5'8" and 169'lbs of flesh felt and sounded like - when it hit industrial carpet. now i know. and my knocked knees tell the tale. it's like interpretive dance.
i guess this means i get to take that well deserved rest from online dating - without saying i'm tired of these fruity men - but it's only because i can't walk and i have fat legs.
weekend getaways 101
i've done the "let's leave town for a few days" before. i've done the 3-day weekends, and i've done full-length vacations.
i've even done the "call-in sick on the same day" deal.
so i should have been prepared. i should have known exactly what to do and how to avoid mishaps.
but i wasn't prepared, because this guy is different from anyone i've ever met, let alone dated.
i thought, yay, we'll go away to the beach and we'll sleep and we'll cook and we'll a-hem, so i can be fresh and well for school on Monday.
and we did, sleep and cook and a-hem. but i'm far from fresh and further from well.
i mean sure, i had an incredible time.
yes, i spent hours in the water and days napping.
but no, it was no easier coming back to the "city" for school today, and i am no less cranky than i was on friday.
the problem with vacations is that they always end.
the good thing, though, is that they always end.
cause i have to admit that spending more than 48 hours with someone can be kinda taxing.
nevertheless, next time i'll leave the security blanket at home, and bring along less clothes.
the music of my life
with boots on, i'm at least a good 5'11"and...i'm not tiny.i've got curves.i'm happy with the height and ba-donk.but, somehow, i manage to date men that are slightly shorter and thinner than me.and, when i walk in a room to meet them...'she's a brick house', begins playing - on a loop - in my head...instantly.is that normal?
binging and purging
my date last night was kosher.kosher and clean.an easy in, followed by an easy out.7pm, drinks.9:30pm, home.11:30pm, fast asleep.he was nice.no sparks.not even a glimmer.i've purged the phone of all ghosts. i don't know if i'm going to put any new ones in.i know.i know.i write that...like every other effing day.but i'm serious.maybe i'm finally cleansed. maybe i'll just leave my profile up so they don't take that picture of me off their log in page.i mean, part of me really likes that.it's my almost famous moment.
r.i.p
while on my way home this evening, i realized that my cell phone is an internet dating graveyard.thank you.imma do a clean-up.
coma girl
i worked late last night.i didn't walk in my apartment until 8:30p.i ate dinner. (thank you for cooking dinner, luscious roommate of mine)apparently, i tucked myself into bed...i fell asleep during the end of american idol...(shit, i can be such a loser sometimes)bring bring... (that's my celly blowin up)
i woke up at 10:56 to a phone call.
a man with an accent was on the other end, it was my luxembourg lover...
the one and only...
who i've been emailing for a month...who i have not had the chance to meet because of travel and work and bidness and life getting in the way of our drink scenario...continue...
i made a date....
in my comatose stupor...
only i would make a date while only having half my wits about me...
oh, the madness...
all hail the king
martin luther took it out on me bad this weekend...in terms of online crutchery, that is.2 dates. 2 more to check off the list.although one did endear himself to me.he lied about his height - big time - but endeared himself, nonetheless.he wrote to me, the next day: 'i just want you to know that i think you're so beautiful. you have the most amazing lips. i'm so glad we met.'the kid didn't say 2 words to me the entire time.we had coffee.i talked...the entrire time.he walked me home.to my door step.he asked for a hug.it was cute.i know, i know...but i don't want cute.i want carnal and adoring with a side of i got it together and i'm gonna take you and make you mine - awe snap can i get a witness....sorry...when i date older men, i feel lost - like a child in the park with her uncle - at dusk...when i date men my age, i feel like i should let them suckle at my teet...when i date men from the ages of 30-34, i feel like i should just mount or get on my back...which leaves me:a)making bad decisions (forgive me father, for i have only sinned twice in my 3 years of online debauchery)b)masturbating (jenna has been incorporated into the routine)c)going to hookah bars - where the sweet taste of tobacco lingers in my mouth, i dance all night like un animal, and middle eastern men bellydance and twirl me around i'm going for option c) followed by option b) - this saturday. i decided dancing makes me feel all woman. amen. i think that's my safest bet.
Crutchery Alert: Level Red
what happens when you're going through a rough patch - a difficult time in your life i guess - and it starts affecting your relationship?
how do you keep your drama from infiltrating not only your lovelife, but also your bedroom? how do you not take it out on your sgnificant other, and how do you put on a happy face, when all you really want to do is weep constantly, while binging on Oreos?
i'm crutched. i'm crutched about school (or lack thereof), i'm crutched about home, and new york, and i'm even crutched about my dog.
apparently, now my boyfriend is crutched too, cause i took out my crutchery on him.
which is possibly the LAST thing i wanted to do.
don't bite the hand that feeds you. (or does you)
i bit.
oh, how to mend the wounds of the tangled web we weave?
oh, how to stop blaming corporate-man for my general malaise?
oh, how to cry openly and still get laid?
someone should write a book.
forgive me father...
for i did not pour my heart out on the internet yesterday...work was crutched...but amazing...i love my boss.what a great man.and i was in meetings all day.and i was with my silver fox editor, from my previous job.and i was feeling good.it's saturday, ass early, and i'm still feeling good.and, after dinner last night, i've decided to troll greener pastures.i have 4 more potential nerve dates.after, i'm moving on...my argentine goddess, my naughty neighbor, mi amor - told me to go on match.i know.more searching for internet love?but she's right...i go out...i go out and manage to meet men...but she noted...they're probably on the internet anyway...i may as well continue to increase my chances, exponentially.this always troubles me, as i hope i don't sound like some crutched up 26 year old who wants to get married or get a boyfriend - that all unravels as it should...and when it may...but, um, hi, i would like it if someone wanted to get to know me - before sex, after sex - something.no one wants to date anymore.it's sort of a move along process.1)go out.2)go out.3)sleep together.4)become friends.5)never speak again.it works on both ends, i'm not blaming men...but it can just be disheartening when you think about all of it. i wonder if men are ever 'disheartened' by it; or if they're just glad to be getting laid. i'm being way too introspective right now. but, i'm comfortable with it.i'm an adult.although my longest bout with internet romance was 3-4 months.1)i get crutched.2)he get's crutched.3)we end it.*for the added value of online dating, 'ending it' typically happens via email...isn't that great? and new? and innovative? and so personal? all at the same time!but that hasn't happened in a year, the dating someone for more than 3-4 months, that is. dropping like it's hot via email happens weekly, if not bi-weekly, by my choice - or by the choice of the other. two of my gurls are on match...for a month each, respectively...and they've already had better luck than i have over the past 3 years.it's all a cloud of one date wonders.it's all a cloud of 'ok, bye, it was nice meeting you.'it's all a cloud of anxiety and waiting for the date to be done and doner...waiting to send that email...nice to meet you...but...dating makes me tired.maybe i'll take all of this back.withdraw completely.move to colorado.become a personal chef for my besties that are getting married.and i'll call it a life.and they both like to hug me.and they both adore me.and i could feed them.which would make me even more huggable.but it's saturday, and imma ready to rock.and, by that i mean...have my first cup of coffee, put on beyonce...and dance around my apartment...peace.
25 going on 15
i never thought this would happen to me - EVER.
i am 25 years old, my boyfriend is 30, our families love each other, everything is dandy, and yet...because this is Puerto Rico and because i live with my mother, we have a sleeping over problem.
you see, i've lived alone for 8 years. now i'm back, and through no fault of my own, i have to live with the same people that probably dont want to know i'm having sex.
my friends in new york (ahemtinaahem) probably dont think about this at all.
BUT.
i want to sleep with my man. actually sleep with him. wake up, make breakfast, spend the day lounging.
but NO.
i always end up crawling home after 4am, reeking of sex, with messed-up hair, and looking like a total whore.
this would all be so much easier if i lived alone. or if i didnt feel so uncomfortable with sleeping outside of my mother's home.
but tonight this man i love arrives after being a week away. and i have to pick him up at the airport at 1am.
and because there is a wave of crime in Puerto Rico right now (dueling gangs...whole other story), no one wants me to drive back to my place, alone, super late.
so i guess i owe it to the crime in this island that i get to sleep over tonight.
and i'm really, REALLY looking forward to it.
i think i finally understand why everyone on this island is married by 24. i mean, it's worth it for the sex alone!
how to catch a predator....
this is going to be my last bit on the groper...my fantastic fly girl cube mate, the queen of hearts - the lady herself - just received an email from my groper/5 scotch 'you're going to kiss me,' madman.he signs his emails cheers.she doesn't date men who sign their emails 'cheers.'only if you're british do you have that right, she says.maybe that should have been my first clue.i think i'm dethroning myself tomorrow.i've enough stories from the past 4 years to keep this blog going on heavy steam, without putting myself in the mix of it all right now.i need some peace and quiet from the internet.goodbye, my good friend.
the man next to me on the train...
this morning...smelled like old toothpaste...and he had the dried up white stuff all around his mouth.i had to get this out.i'm gross.i know.
it's been what, a month?
at close of business today...i'm contemplating the nerve fast.that's right...no more nerve dates.this might not be effective immediately; however, it's a thought.after i received three kicker emails in less than a 48 hr. period, a date with uncle groper, and a hotlist from bendmeover...i'm thinking it's time to rethink the strategy.i want someone to want to date me.there, i said it now...i said it in my profile.do i want to have fun? sure.like the wise cyndi said, girls just want to have it.but i'd like to have fun with the person i'm dating.and fun times inbetween dating is legit.but...today, a man emailed me...referring to my new naughty knickers headline. he wrote: 'you're sexy and sexier if you find it interesting that i've said your headline to someone before - and they quickly complied.'he went on to say: 'i teach college and i write...hope to hear from you...'now, i'm going to take responsibility for my words. naughty knickers down sounds like a tease, but they're the lyrics to i am the walrus. a complete stonerfest song; which is why i love it. which is supposed to make someone think beatles, babes and drugz! hot! she's funny and fun. i teach college and i write...frankly, buddy - i could give a shit if you picked your toes and barked like a dog in your spare time...whatever happened to a normal email.a hey.a hi, how are you?maybe it's nerve.maybe it's this city.maybe it's a disastrous #7 combination platter.everyone is so creative.everyone is so into their things.everyone is so involved.i am too.i love my life.i love my job.i love all of my material possessions - including but not limited to - high black boots, fine leather goods, booty choker jeans, amber body oil, my hair....but in all honesty, i don't care about offerings.i'm not dazzled by a male writer who gets women to drop their panties...i dig on humble.i dig on heart. the emails i receive are rarely real, at all.that's the rub. this cat was trying to get laid, good for him.wrong lady.sure, i love a smart, smart man.sure, i love a quick thinker who's sexy as fuck.it turns me on.but so does pizza.laughing, movies, kissing and sneaker shopping... i really wonder what the other women on here are like...what's anyone looking for anyway?i have to.
once, twice, three times...
shat on... (approximately one month ago in the life of thecrutcha)1
) not only did a bird poop on me...but he defiled my face,my hair, my cell phone...wait...and then i was left screaming in the street. a kind woman stopped and gave me tissue paper from her packages. i proceeded to cry and wipe the poop off of myself...2) 2 days later, i sat in madison sq park, reading and writing,2 more birds decided to double team me. 1pm - on my shoe. 1:07pm- down my back; onto my favorite suede blazer. a nice gang bang on a Saturday afternoon, if you will. needlessto say, i had a cigarette breakdown, went to the noble in the union - and cleaned off.and another tiny nugget, for your reading pleasure...3) i was holiday shopping in bath & body works, of all places, i bent over...my pants split. i wasn't wearing any underwear. no, my ass is not that large. my pants were old. and i'm not explaining the underwear thing. *ok, i will...*because...mostly everyone that reads this, knows i hate underwear. i think underwear should be banned. the bottom is better when it's free. free to shake down the block in a skirt. free of lines. you just have to be careful, that's all.*i wasn't careful.*i bent over without thinking.*never bend over without thinking.
day 2
so my "manfriend" has now been out of town for 2 days. i am no less offended than i was yesterday.
here's why:
1. i was totally hoping for some phone-grind last night, but, alas, i passed out before that could happen.
2. he wasn't here to help me make fun of all the lame Gators fans last night.
3. because he's been so busy, we haven't exchanged as many phone calls and emails as we normally would during the week, which means that he's totally out of touch with PR politics, which have reached a maximum point of hilarity.
4. i feel like the biggest wuss on the planet for missing someone this much.
5. i no longer have a reason to shave my legs this week, and suddenly i feel like Frida Kahlo again.
6. granny panties ahoy.
7. i busted out some old sarah mclachlan today.
maybe i should paint my nails just so i can chip off the polish and feel all tough again. yea, that'll do it.
i understand this whole online dating thing...but
is this really necessary:NO PICTUREhandle name: bendmeoverheadline: why is it so hard to meet a cool girl? (um, douchey - maybe because your name is bend me over...um, hi)sex: male
age: 45
location: brooklyn, ny
occupation: creativityi mean, did i really have to be hotlisted by this cat?a bendmeover hotlisting is just about as bad as the time yourmaster (m, 41, relationship status: prefer not to say) emailed me about wanting to spank me and teach me how to be a good girl...side note: if he could be anywhere right now: 'i would be taking you over my knee.'i mean, you can't make this shit up.i mean, do i look like a bad girl who needs a good spankin' from my uncle? just stop it.i know there's a different dynamic when dating, especially dating on nerve...but maybe this isn't the place for me.i mean, sure i like my hair pulled.i mean, sure i like to be spanked - called a naughty girl every once in a while...but not here...not now...not like this...besides, i'm still having severe anxiety about art bar, 39 year old men, ass groping, and being cornered and pressed on...this is my own vietnam.and everytime i go to take the good old profile down, i get this urge to torture myself some more - and keep on chugging. because a fantastic bombshell co-worker told me today:'anything worth doing, is worth doing...badly, at least.'and i did it.i got through today.tonight i cooked dinner, and i'm safe at home...in the safe place.
dating your uncle?
i had an impromptu date last night.i usually love the idea of spur of the moment drinks.a man with a sense of adventure - you know, if afterwork drinks even qualifies in that category.i had been emailing this cat for about two weeks, which is sort of longish. i prefer meeting someone after a few exchanges - so expectations aren't high...there wasn't a ton of writing, so it felt fine. i wasn't really thinking anything about the situation.he was 39. good looking. very. wrote really well. tall. dark. sharp. flirty in his emails, but nothing that turned my stomach.he called yesterday and asked if i'd be around for a drink...i figured, sure...the scene of the crime:art bar.i love art bar.and i'm sad it's been tainted for me.which now means i need to go back there with someone i actually like - or a posse of friends and some white sage, so i can do a karmic clean-up in there.he made me nervous.i don't think it was the age thing; but maybe the age thing coupled with his ruthless flirting. he was staring at me. that always makes me nervous.i don't like feeling as though someone is taking inventory on me.they weren't sweet stares, they were more calculated and pronounced.and let's clear it up, i wasn't good nervous. he made me sick nervous. i rarely get sick nervous.i wish it was that good nervous - oh is he gonna kiss me nervous.evidently my body was telling me something.he was engaging.he had me laughing.he's jewish.he was cracking jew jokes the entire time.i ranked on my own italian goddess-ness...i had 2 and a 1/2 glasses of wine.a cake walk for me.he had 5 scotches.he was flirty before the booze.*read: you have beautfiul eyes, amazing lips, you're so tall*i think i've said it before, me and compliments - no good. it makes me even more sheepish. it was the way he was saying it. the way he was looking at me when he said it. someone else could have said the same thing, and it wouldn't have felt the same way.in fact, other men have said the same things - and stared - and i'd been nervous - but this was different.i knew it was trouble when he walked in, rubbed my back and went straight for the kiss on the cheek - and grabbed my arm...a little too friendly, i don't effing know. come to 10:10...he lays on the kissing banter, thick...he kisses my hand...he's trying to make me swoon, i believe - but i was sort of chucking in my mouth...we're sitting side by side, in a coner at the bar...uncle: 'i have to kiss you.'niece: 'excuse me...'uncle: 'i mean, i have to kiss you. your lips are beautiful.' (he leans in, takes his arms and wraps them around me)niece: 'thank you. but, i don't want to kiss you like this.' (the bar was semi crowded, i could smell the scotch on his breath. he was being way too flirty. not cute flirty, creepy flirty)*disclaimer: i've made out in bars. eff, everyone does. but this wasn't whimsical and airy - this was some dude pressing on me and throwing cheeseball compliments my way and looking at me like i was a ham hock. i'm flirty. i couldn't even flirt back. it was uncomfortable*uncle: 'you think anyone in here gives a shit if we kiss? now, if you don't want to kiss me - that's fine - although highly insulting...but if it's because there's people in here...that's bullshit.'niece: 'i'm not trying to insult you, i'm just letting you know that it's not happening now. i have to really get going."*i don't think i've ever had such a conversation over a kiss before. it should just happen. no one should ask. you shouldn't have to ask.*uncle: 'come on. let me get you another glass of wine.'niece: 'i'm going. thank you.'i was polite.i was demure.i put on my jacket. he stood up. he grabbed me and said: 'hey shorty. hey you cute thing.'i was wondering what the eff was going on in my world right now...what had i done to make the dating demi-gods so angry? i walked out.there was an ass grope. he owanted to walk me to the train. we started off... somehow, he got in front of me - grabbed me, on the corner of Jane St. - and said, 'i'm not letting go until you kiss me. you're going to kiss me.' i was swinging my head around so much, that i looked like an efffing bobble head doll.i think i gave myself whiplash.he got me.fuck, this sounds like the cheesiest date man pusher story ever - but it's effing true...like an effing afterschool special.i told him i was going to get a cab. (the thought of him walking me to the train made me ill)he said he wanted to have drinks again.i ran out into traffic to hail my ride.he comes at me from behind and grabs me again and kisses me.he came at me with his mouth completely open.the cab driver even looked ill. as i was standing in front of the open door...he told me to get in the car.i called temporican - who's all for older man love....and i explained this was the first time - ever - that someone treated me this way...i called my wise lady friend shortly after - she cautioned me against going out with the man to begin with...i hate to say it.i hate to sound this way.i hate it.but i felt like my young ass was being poached by an old native hunter.this was upsetting. thoroughly.and i so wish i could do a better job of getting it all down, but it's early - it's too fresh and i actually feel slightly traumatized.the first time is often a lot to get over.
wiggity whack
the man in my life is currently away, in Miami, on a business trip. this offends me in the following ways:
1 - i hate when people i love travel. it makes me nervous that i'll never see them again. don't ask, i don't get it either.
2 - because i was so nervous, and because i knew that this week would SUCK BALLS with him gone, i decided to pick a massive fight with him on saturday night, eliminate all chances of me getting laid before he left, and, in general, acted incredibly mature.
3 - this fight, in turn, caused me to realize what a raging asshole i am, and i ended up apologizing profusely, which i hate to do.
4 - i miss him. and i hate that i miss him.
5 - i need some sexual healing, and he's not here, and now suddenly because of this whole monogamy thing i can't even make out with a friend. what did THAT happen?
6 - i'm insanely pissed at every single girl that has ever touched him. which wouldn't matter, except this is Puerto Rico, population 4, where everyone knows each other, and you, and your family, and once fucked every guy you ever loved/liked/considered dating.
7 - i'm going with friends tonight, but we all know all i want to do is get on a plane and make sure he's doing lawyerly stuff, and not grinding on some Cuban chick on South Beach.
8 - i never said i wasnt psycho, ok?? i'm a fucking Scorpio for god's sake.
this is for you purpley79....
i did not.and i repeat...did not email him when i got home.i was tipsy; a little out of sorts - even. i emailed him last night....perhaps you're still in that lucid state i left you in saturday evening...all of the days in the week must be blending in to one...but this...this is why i heart you.and i have yet to email him back about going out thursday night...i'm feeling unsure about the situation.i'm really just feeling that this week of pms and dating are not going to mesh nicely.
the fastest reply in history
i pressed send on that shit, a hot 5 minutes ago...and he replied already.see, this is the effing reason why the internet needs to be phased out...nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.he wants to get together this week.i'm not replying tonight.temps, i guess it was just a dream - no, not that i used to read word up magazine - but the whole i think i sent him the email i meant to write to you - business we went through this morning. i mustn't have effed up.evidently he was sitting on top of his computer waiting for me to write.oh, these lips are trouble. my lips don't lie, like shakira's hips.i don't think my hips do either tho. i seriously feel like i did drugs, and i haven't smoked anything since last night.
i'm too tired to truly deal right now...
but, before i left my house on saturday evening...i received an email...a heartfelt, heart driven email, from someone i dated 6 months ago.no boy has ever brought me to tears over kind words, this was a first.no, i wasn't like gasping for air crying - but a tear dropped down my cheek. i got a little choked and went to drink wine and eat cheese and polka. today i responded to him.i didn't know what to say. i was on the receiving end of that email - you know that type of email - that a woman would write. that kind of note that makes you think, evokes emotion and brings back a memory.and the memory he brought back was this kiss. it was summer. i packed a picnic, in the new picnic basket i got for my birthday, we saw a film at the sculpture park in my hood - right on the water and we had an amazing time.it had perfect date written all over it. he drove me home.he looks like clark kent.i didn't think brotha had it in him to kiss, but effing a - he done did it right.and i guess i did too, as his email notes "our kiss was unforgettable, damn you."it takes more than that to make me shed a drop of the water. it was the stuff he wrote in between, that i'm not gonna get into...damn me... because i asked him to see la dolce vita with me, the week after the kiss, and i guess by that - he thought i meant - let's get married.... he must've had a panic attack or something. he wrote me an email about the kiss and it's terrifying and confusing impact on his being - and confirmed us friends.random 'friend' emails followed, but we never saw eachother.come to yesterday, this damn note about the kiss - followed by a let's get together.i said i would see him.and now i'm going to bed...because i'm done with thinking for the weekend.
today would be the most perfect day if...
my gurl was by my side.it's first night this evening at the brooklyn museum...no, i will not go all jamaican beef patty without you...or cocoa bread...or ting...and if you don't know what any of the aforementioned items are...i suggest you troll to brooklyn, go to christies beef patty joint on faltbush ave; ask for a beef patty in cocoa bread (you'll suffer looks of scorn if you get the patty sans cocoa bread) and a bottle of ting. walk across flatbush, sit in the park and enjoy. it's carb madness.it's 70 degress in ny today, it's the perfect day for parks and tank tops and walking and late night dancing and wine.and i feel my ghetto chick calming down.she's becoming almost sprite-ish. the only thing that would be more perfect is if i could go to the beach tomorrow, but that's out of the the question completely. i'll settle for today. maybe i'll take a polka and waltz lesson tonight; the museum is offering free dance classes...and i think i'm so happy...i know i'm so happy...because this is at my core.dating makes me freak.freak over things i should brush off.my friend, who i'll be trolling the museum with, called me this morning...crutched over a boy she's digging on. he's a pimp. she has heart. he likes her, i'm sure. she wants to get freaky, but there's more to think about here.so, tonight we'll go out.we'll take our mind off of everything that went on during the week.it's the weekend.um, yay!i'll go with a clear head. knowing i'm not going to die at the hands of an online date.(i sent the email to the duder...douche, i know i am)i need to get freaky down to my core, with art, wine and friends.ain't no shame in my game.and i'll pretend temporican is grinding on me the entire time.because if there's a way, she'll grind on me....even if it's to polka music.it could be all kinds of new freak nasty fun.alas, she'll be grinding on her new lawyer bf tonight.the nerve of her...
it is decidedly so
i'm taking the weekend off.maybe i'll troll the brooklyn museum for first saturday.maybe i'll sit, pick a park, and read.maybe i'll get pooped on by a bird, again - more luck to come my way.which reminds me...i need to cut and paste my nerve humbling moments in to this blog...they should really be on here for all 6 of you to read...67 degrees tomorrow and sunny on Sunday...i need to walk around.i need to let freedom ring.i'm going to send the cancel card this afternoon.i feel guilty, but i can't go through with it.no one should do anything they don't want to do.fuck, i sound like a pot psa.i'm gonna take it easy on my heart and head.maybe write in my journal, not on the net.who the fuck am i kidding, i have to do this. it helps me breathe.it's the beginning of a new year.i went to the noble last night to begin gathering all elements for the '07 collection, such as:2007 Daily Horoscope (to balance out my raging Gemini)2007 Calendar (this was tough to select, i'll splain)2007 Planner (still to be purchased, i'll splain)2007 Vibrator (bought on Tuesday night at Fantasy World, after an amazing meal at Mi Concina - with an adoring lady friend. we took the plunge together, i'll splain the results later on.)a horoscope is a horoscope. it's fine. it's just something i need to purchase.compulsion, perhaps.the calendar. balls, the only calendars the noble in the union had...were ones of puppies and shit.i love dogs.i don't do puppy calendars.i don't need people at work, cruising my cubicle and seeing puppies.then they'll think i'm soft, and i have a reputation to uphold. i have to be a bitch sometimes, and i don't need co-workers riding the puppy card. besides, i have pictures of my little cousins and my family - on my walls - so i got donkey's.a good old year of jackasses staring at me right in the face.jackasses sniffing butts...buried in snow...it's perfect.planners ran along the same line as calendars, so this needs no great explanation...aside from the fact that the selection included puppies and butterflies.i don't do butterflies on my planner.i think i just got a little ill thinking about it.the vibrator was the trickiest purchase.my friend and i were in Fantasy World.curved, with pearls, small, large, with veins, without veins...it was all too much really.i need more of a wam bam thank you solution; that would get the job done before bedtime.i went with good old jenna jameson. i figured, you gots to trust a porn star.it's opalescent and has little rhinestones surrounding the bottom dial.it's pretty. it suited me. long and sleek, uncomplicated, slightly bling, no fuss.maybe that last line could be added to my profile, in the section: why you should get to know me...
i did some thinking
and by thinking, i mean i'm emailing the 39 year old foodie and pulling a cancel card for Sunday night.i never cancel, not ever.for...ibelieve in...BDK...that's right, Bad Dating Karmaand i don't need that shit coming back to bite me in my fine, pork fed, italian ass.he called me, caught me off guard...off my game...from an unknown number...effer...foodie: "let's meet at _____, in astoria. it's on 34th ave between 44th and 45th street, i think."crutcha: "what do you mean you think?"foodie: "i think i've reviewed the restaurant before and - from what i remember - that's where it is. and...if the restuarant isn't there...i'll be waiting there...for you." (ok, my over use of the ellipsis makes it sound worse...i know)crutcha: "that seems strange, i'll just look it up on the internet - that way i know exactly where to meet you." (internal monologue: freak, this is some effing fishy she-ite)foodie: "it's one of those hole in the wall places. i know it's not on the net, and it doesn't even have a phone book listing. from what i remember, it doesn't even have an address on the outside of the building."crutcha: "um, i'll actually ask some of my friend's in the neighborhood - they may know of it." (internal monologue: i'm too young to die of internet dating slaughter)foodie: "that's an idea. you know, it's a great brazilian place, a lot of fine meats. i'll bring a nice bottle of wine to pair with the food. it'll be great. it's a byob kind of place."crutcha: "that sounds great, ______, i'll see you there at 6pm on Sunday." (internal monologue: shut the eff up, my honky ass is gonna be alive on Sunday at 6:30pm, not in a body bag next to the Queensboro bridge - with gashes on my head - from the wine bottle you brought to take me out with...effer)i met my friends after work...they tried to convince me to go out with him, depsite this gripping story. hot lady friends: "you know, t, he could be really interesting. and a lot of good restaurants aren't listed; they're some of the best places to go."crutcha: "eff that noise, bee-otches, i want to live to see Monday. i'm not chancing it. i'm going to have to send the email...hey, something came up - i'll email you when it's a better time."hot lady friends: "you should go. yeah, go. t, go."i mean what are these women thinking? are they after my fine wardrobe and makeup? probably not, but really - now. i know i'm going to sound lame, and it's mean - but i can't date when i feel unsettled.besides, dates can be torture - why put yourself through it if you're not going to enjoy it?or, in my case, why get killed? maybe i am overeacting.but i've managed to online date, since the ripe age of 23, and i've always come home in one piece. why stop now?i'd like to keep this body whole, for she's only 26 and 7 months old... and she has quite a bit more work to do.and i'll be effing damned if dating leads to my eternal demise.
a lot of she-ite to report...
but imma hold off because this bitch is strapped for time.i have 14 minutes to write, refresh and leave my buidling to meet up with a friend.i'm going to interrupt all dating/trolling updates, to talk about a moment i had today.a special moment, wherein i actually cried.i'm effing pms-ing like a mo fo.i was sitting in an edit room in a land where the sun dances and ladies tell stories of their children and weekend adventures and bedroom redecorating.this struck a chord in me, as the mommy in the pretty skirt - sitting to the left of me - said she was redoing her sons room. his big boy bed was arriving tomorrow and the new comforter set too...by the time he got home from school tomorrow...he would have a new room...what a surprise...and, i recalled the time my ma and da (said with a brooklyn accent, thank you) did the same for me. i lived in a hand me down room...the whole house i grew up in was, actually. my parents - me and my brothers - we never had a house of our own. always an upstairs apartment, in brooklyn, with the rest of the family living down below on the other two floors.my room had lime green shag carpeting. my room had silver wallpaper with pychedelic green flowers that used to make me nauseous when i stared for too long.my room was decked out in white formica furniture with gold trim.i spent the weekend at my aunt's house, and then went to this mean girl's pool party. i was chubby, i didn't want to go, but my parents were friends with her wop parents and i had to show...but i came home...i came home...to the most beautiful pink room - ever.beautiful border. new mauve carpeting. the vanity chair, the one i always wanted - that sat out back in my grandpas garage - had been rewelded and repaired for my new room.i thought about it today and cried.because that seemed like yesterday, but it was almost 18 years ago.and my parents have their own home now, for the first time.and all this bullshitting i do, seems really obtuse right now.but wait until tomorrow.it'll be broughten.and in the middle of this i got a phone call from a nervie for a date on Sunday.a food critic.39 divorced.we're meeting at a restuarant.jesus help me.a whole meal...i think imma cancel, now that i think about it.i can feel the blanket of crutchery falling over my body ever so slightly.and by that i mean wtf. what if he's an old dude axe murderer....i'm being an extremist. i know.but this is what i do.extreme dating.ok, not really.not at all.i'm a goofy young girl, he sounds like an old man.enough.enough.we're going out for brazilian food.imma eat meat.and get out.and write about it Sunday night.his emails were good, but lacking in the phone skills.help, i need somebody - help.
new administration
alright. i admit it. i have a boyfriend.
i didnt want to call him that, and i didnt really want to talk about it, but it's happened.
i've abandoned nerve.com (and we didnt even meet on there!), but never fear. i still have my eye on the streets. the streets of dating that is.
ever since i made the move to a different type of island life, and landed in Puerto Rico, i've started wearing dresses and heels, painting my nails pink, and (GASP!!) straightening my hair on occasion.
i know, i know.
i'm still keeping it real though. which is why i didnt want to call him my boyfriend. i have, after all, a reputation to uphold.
but somehow, without my consent, this goddamn lawyer with an attitude and a killer sense of humor has managed to, goddamn it, dive through my chest and nestle himself safely in my sternum. this asshole stole my heart, and i didnt even see it coming. all these corporate douchebags are the same - thieves!!!
so now i confront a whole new set of problems, a new map of streets to navigate. because even though i've been in a few serious relationships, this time it's a completely different ball game. because not only is he Puerto Rican, and not only does my family love him, and not only is he honest and loving and not the least bit shady, but CARAJO the dude loves me. and that right there changes everything.
so come along with me while i try to not fuck this up while still being my usual crutched self - commitment-phobia included.
goddamn it, how could this have happened?
and the heels, shit, that we need to talk about later. my feet hurt.
the source of all evil
myspace might be an even bigger jam...than the nerve.i'm talking 4 emails today, from 4 randos - here's what they had to say:in order of trollish appearance in the inbox:1. "hi i sasha"2. "hey girl you sexy"3. "hey ;)"4. "hi, i'm mo, i'm from queens. i'm looking for a lady to treat right. i get my biz done during the week, but i know when the weekend comes - how to treat a lady right. you got nice lips."so. listen.this is bootleg. wrong, even. i did have one myspace date, a year ago - and he turned out to be on nerve as well, and another one recently.fine gents. i was able to double screen their shit. and they were cute. and they didn't refer to me as hey, sexy or nice lips.and i'd like to think my lips are more than nice, thank you very much.the original source of the dates was nerve, which then worked into - hey you have a myspace, no way, i have a myspace too...and everyone these effing days can be tracked. i may remove myself from the space, as i did with the ster. the friendster was a problem because it evolved into stalkster for me. someone i dated was trolling, day in and day out, and leaving comments on my page way too frequently...he also had a psychic and called my me crying from LA, after he moved. needless to say, i never went to visit him. things were great and hot, for 2 weeks, until he moved and went buck nutty. he's also back in ny, and passed me on his bicycle when i was in the e.vill last week...i put the head down and prayed for better days to come. and then, the only person i've ever had those feelings for...those gutteral cravings to see, touch, smell...he found me on there too...and it's all downhill and depressing from there.and that's not what i'm about.i'm about shakin it and having fun with it.and, so, the interweb incest rears it's ugly and addictive head - with the profile overlaps, the cut and paste functions on the computer, the winks, the hotlisting. how long is it before myspace adds on winks and hotlisting - and evolves into yet another crutched up dating website with bigger functions and more means for making lives like mine...miserable?that was dramatic.no one even remembers who they date anymore.it's ill. but i do.i have a log.good for me.
more misadventures
my favorite little cube fairy, my friend - the queen of hearts - was just chuckling rather loudly at her desk...she yells (over the 6 ft cubicle wall: "you're never going to believe this...you probably won't even think that it's funny."she walks into my cube, crouches over, leans in to me and says quietly: "i just logged on to myspace. i see i have a new friend request. i'm thinking, this guy's hot. who's this? i open up the profile, it's my little 17 year old cousin. he was such a dork. and now he's a total hipster hottie."rightly so, i couldn't contain my laughter.see, this internet...full of deception...and sheer hilarity.thank you, mari-queen of hearts - for this tale.
