You Really Like Me!

One of my fears with online dating, and dating in general, is that I'll meet someone who's more into the idea of me than me, myself. Does that make sense? What I mean to say is that I worry about finding a guy who desperately wants to like someone, and thus likes me because I'm, you know, there and somewhat likeable, not because they feel any real feelings for me.

And I'll be perfectly honest here, I'm worried that may be happening with this new guy. He does seem to like me. But...does he really?

He came over to watch a movie last night after yoga training, so that's three dates in four days. That's a lot of face time, way more than I ever spend with a guy right off the bat. And for me, this isn't a problem, because I'm not investing any extra emotion or expectations because of some additional flirty-time, but the fact that he's so eager to see me kind of gets my spidey-sense tingling. Which, of course, is an indication of my incredibly low self-esteem and commitment issues, but regardless. It's something to think about.

And I do like to think.

I mean, usually, this dating shit is dragged out. I have time to obsess and analyze and wonder. There's a date a week, max. My suitors don't ask me out for another date while still on the current date, they don't joke about being sad I'm going out of town for the weekend, they don't talk as if future hang-outs are already a definite. They don't tell me they think I'm awesome.

All of this makes me go hmmmm, you know? Because it's just atypical. But is it atypical in a bad way? Does it indicate anything beyond this boy being sufficiently intrigued by yours truly? Is it anything to actually worry about?

This particular boy (who does need a nickname) is not as much of an online dater as I am. He's had a profile for a year, but hasn't met many ladies, and overall seems to treat the process with heavy doses of skepticism and caution. So I worry that, perhaps, he takes this whole endeavor more seriously at its roots than I do. I've always said, I don't want an "insta-relationship". Is that what he's looking for? Or am I just projecting my fears onto his perfectly normal behavior?

Maybe I really shouldn't over-think this. He's sweet, he's nice, he wants to treat me like a lady. What's the bad here? Maybe it's as simple as it seems: he likes me. He wants to spend time with me. Simple.

So for now, I will just go with it. See him when I want to see him, act how I want to act. There's no reason to play silly games or enforce arbitrary rules of behavior because I think I need to behave in a certain way. I do think it's for the best to back off just a touch, though, because three dates in four days is a lot, and Mama likes her space. No reason to rush anything, even if he is a cutie who thinks I'm awesome.

Which you know, I am.

Why wouldn't he like me?

Ms. Carrie Okey

Y'all.

I sang karaoke.

*pause for gasps*

How did this happen, you might wonder? Well, the boy I went out with on Sunday, he who introduced me to his friends, insisted we were going to sing karaoke on our second date. I told him in order for this to go down, he was picking me up and getting me drunk. Obviously he didn't have a problem with this.

I. Was. Fucking. Petrified. All. Damn. Day.

When he picked me up, I told him this. I believe my exact words were, "You created a situation in which I was nervous for our date, and not in a good way. Nice job."

I'm such a bitch.

He told me I didn't have to sing, but I spent all day yesterday Googling karaoke songs and singing to myself in the car because I AM A GODDAMN NERD, and I picked a fun song in my range, and I sang dammit. And people sang along and cheered, and according to my date I did awesome. Though he has to say that.

But I declare it was a success. My biggest fear did not come true: I did not fall off the stage.

Oh, what did I sing?

So yes, the date itself? Fun! Totally out of my comfort zone, which is definitely a good thing. We laughed and talked and you know, flirted. It was date-ish. As for the guy? I think I like. He's sweet and simple (not in a bad way) and seems sincere. I enjoy his company. Which is the whole point, right?

Right.

And he wants to see me again, ASAP. That certainly fluffs up the ego.

Which is also the point.

"Somebody save me, I'm going down..."

How To Twerk

Sluttin'

How many boys does one have to date on in a one week period in order to achieve slut status? 'Cause I may or may not be approaching the cut-off. And I like it.

After Friday night's date numero dos with My Repeat, I had a first date last night with a brand new boy! I'm such a motherfucking pimp. This one liked me, I could tell. I mean, I usually think they like me and I usually am wrong, but this one already asked me out for Tuesday and next Sunday, so I'm pretty confident in my assessment.

He bought me dinner. I've never had a first date buy me dinner before, so he definitely gets a few points there. Cute, nice, good conversationalist. After our meal, he took me to a trivia night and introduced me to some of his friends. I know, right? Showing me off. Or, soliciting opinions. One of the two.

Look at me.

Sluttin' it up.

Baller.

Monday, July 15th

I'm over this.

Monday check ins, that method of goal setting? OVER IT. I don't like. We're moving on. I think we're back to Wednesdays, and I'll figure my ish out by then.

I have some things to say, though.

Like golly gee whiz, food and I were friends this past week.

But you know what? Even though I didn't have a great week "diet" wise, and I went into the red with my points (yeah I TRACKED), I didn't binge. I didn't overeat. I just...indulged. And that's pretty swell! I'm actually feeling pretty content, even if I'm up on the scale this week. Which, I am. Oh well.

I'm just kind of existing, right now. And that's okay, you know? I can exist, for now. I'll start trying again.

On Wednesday.

Sweet, Glorious Sleep

I haven't been sleeping in lately.

My body, no matter the day or how late I was up the night before, has been waking me up pretty early. But this morning, this beautiful, glorious morning, I slept in until eleven, without even trying. Even though I went to bed before 10.

I feel renewed.

Hot In The Valley

It was 100 degrees on my dashboard when I stopped for Chipotle today.

Pretend I didn't say that. I shouldn't have had Chipotle.

Anyway...

I'm camped out in the Valley for the weekend, housesitting for The Married Couple and babysitting Gracie and their new addition, the fabulous feline Bluebird with her gorgeous multicolored eyes!

Oh, and I'm taking care of the chickens too. Brown and Gray. Brown was being a bitch and wouldn't go in their house at bedtime. But I finally corralled her. 

It's a wonderfully convenient coincidence, because yoga training this weekend is at the Encino studio, so I'm in the area. We're gathered with the two trainings going on at other locations and focusing on anatomy this weekend. My brain is overloaded. I'm not so good with the science.

I'm tucked up on the couch, watching a DVD and prepping to study my sequence until bed once it's over. Four hours of lectures and demos. Muscles! Bones! Compression! Extension!

Bluebird joined me. Gracie's bored. She did get a walk though!

A perfectly lovely Saturday. 

But hot.

No like hot.

Hollywood Night

Something I feel like I've been missing in the years I've lived in LA is the true, well, Hollywood experience. When I moved here, that's what I wanted, the silly dream of it, the glitz and glamour of this city. My fantasy since I was a hopeful little kid was to live here, but I never take advantage of all the city has to offer.

Last night, I got a little taste.

My Repeat, as I shall call him for now, lives in the middle of Hollywood. I drove to him last night, as I guess is only fair, and we went to a couple of nifty bars in his hood. Then, we hung out on his roof.

Why?

Well, because of that view up there, yes. But also because My Repeat currently has another dude living in his one bedroom bachelor studio. Not judging!

But his building, apparently, was a former hotel owned by Charlie Chaplin, and made so it will always have low rent for artists. Which is way cool. And I Googled it this morning, and it was the first Hollywood address of the Black Dahlia, or Elizabeth Short. So now I feel super vintage Hollywood.

It was beautiful up on the roof. Apparently you can see the Hollywood sign during the day, which is a long held personal goal of mine, to live with a view of it. So I'm jealous.

We had fun. I'm refusing to over-analyze, over-think, over-discuss. We had fun.

And I enjoyed my little taste of Hollywood.

Totally Slacking Friday Links

What is my DAMAGE?! Besides being addicted to 90s slang.

Sorry for the total lack of posts this week.

I have three links. That's it.

God, I fail.



18 Words Robin Thicke Should Know Rhyme With “Hug Me”

Such as....pug me. Tug me. Drug me.

Celebrity Make Unders – What Would Celebrities Look Like If They Were Everyday People?

Black People Troll Paula Deen on Twitter, Hilarity Ensues