“If You Can’t Be with the One You Love…”

If you were going to say “love the one you’re with” – you are wrong. That is a terrible idea. Especially when you are in your thirties, as I recently found out thanks to a certain Doctor-In-Training.

I can literally count on my fingers (maybe even one hand!) how many times I went out with Doctor-In-Training. I was trying to keep it casual (something I’ve never been able to do) and give the whole “dating” thing a whirl but he seemed to be thinking “lets move this out of the sack” and “let’s spend weekends this summer on tandem bikes together” or riding in (insert two person manual boat here) on the bayou.

I actually was kind of down with it. Crazy, right? I liked a boy. (Okay now you can sing the full chorus of the titular song.)  It didn’t hurt that he was (and I guess probably is) a really good kisser. And the right level of smart nerd to appeal to Yours Truly.

Anyway, those cute texts about duo activities aside, we only saw each other on the weekends. For like one month (max). And then I had finals and he was starting a new rotation. Sure, I could have texted, but I was wondering how many hours of reading it would take before my eyes literally bled and decided it was on him to check on me.

I had a library buddy, my favorite one, so I was already set on company. (I was also feeling pretty bloated from downgrading my meals to pasta with butter and cheese and sour patch kids.)

So I didn’t call and he didn’t contact me either. Not until Friday, anyway. Six days after he haaaadddd to take me out for my birthday despite my objections that I needed to study. (Dinner, by the way, was great.)

But back to Friday. My phone rings. (You know how I feel about calling over texting…SWOON)

Until I found out the purpose of the call. It went like this:

Doctor-In-Training: “We need to talk…”

Me: “…Okay???” (is that how you start a conversation about what movie we are going to watch!?) < clearly not >

Doctor-In-Training: “I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you (emphasis on really) but I’m growing attached and I don’t see this going anywhere.” You know, “No FUTURE.”

Me: (silence because I am more angry than sad because I’ve been at the library and that definitely could have waited until TOMORROW.) Finally, “Wow that is shitty timing.”

Doctor-In-Training: “There is no good time”

True. There is no good time to break up with someone. But, categorically, there are better times and worse times. Worse being my cat just died, better being I just went for a run and I thought you were calling to make pool plans.

Also not good: after a really hard week of finals when (BTW) you didn’t bother to call me either. So. Glad you stewed for five days and made a decision. I HOPE YOU FEEL BETTER.

Nothing really more to say.

But wait, whoops: There was me, sending random and mildly arbitrarily-timed but angry (and occasionally drunk) text messages.

Great news though, a full two (three?) weeks later I got a message that included “I’m obviously missing you. And I’m not sure I should have left you.”

LEFT ME!? Okay that implies that there is a mortgage and a child, and I don’t know… a relationship. But thanks dude, you are not confusing at all.

Anyway back to “If you can’t be with the one you love” … because there is an answer and it is great:

Respond to the super cute boy who’s been messaging you (who cares if he is 7 years younger than you!) because you know what won’t happen after three HOT weeks of that? A phone call from him that says “I don’t think this is going anywhere.” Because he’s 24. And that, my friends, is pretty hot. He’s old enough to have had a serious girlfriend so the training wheels are off. Fun times. I highly recommend it.

 

 

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Table for One, Please

Ah yes, friends. The magic of dating. Mardi Gras, as you all probably can guess, is not my strong suit for the meeting or retaining of boys. And, if you happen to live in New Orleans, that also puts Valentine’s Day creeping around one corner or another. Yippeee.

I met Dr. Glitterbeard at the Space Ball. We met in line to get ourselves jazzed up with some Get Fly Bodypaint and were having a good time. We had mutual friends, and apparently, he was of the opinion that I was the hottest girl there. (High five, me!) My costume wasn’t fully baked because of the pressures of graduate school but the final product was some sexy red star pasties, a gorgeous handmade hood, and matching red bottoms. I was pretty on fire. Fun times.

He asked me to dance, and then if I wanted to get a drink. (Yes!) And of course, Sometimes Boyfriend happened to be nearby with The Ogre so the timing was pretty nice for me to get such flattering male attention. Two vodka sodas and an almost kind of kiss later, we were cutting it up under the black light. After a song or two, I took him to find some other friends that we realized we shared in common from his undergrad days. We realize we’ve lost his friends so he excuses himself to go find them. I figured I’d bump into him later and went on with my fun. Fast forward to me, bumping into his (our) friends first. Here is what I get: “You know he’s married, right?”

Ummm no, I did not. Got ZERO married vibes. Of course, it was all fairly platonic so not real lines were crossed (unless you count the no-tongue kiss thing) although I’m sure if the wife was there I would not have been the center of attention for so long. Anyway, awkward and moving on. I did bump into him later with a coarse “Hi, you are MARRIED!?” to which he responded “Wasn’t gonna happen, lady.” Or something to that effect with a fairly rude undertone.

Whatever, dude. Enjoy the ball.

Then, of course, Fat Tuesday happened. Yippee. And as I attempted to gather my life together and sweep up the glitter, Valentine’s Day came and went with another year of light acknowledgement of another day where society expects us to eat too much food in the name of LOVE. (Pro tip, have sex before dinner so that the after dinner sex can be kind of drunk and relaxed.)

Sigh.

Even though I had no special someone to drape myself in gorgeously scandalous lace for, I do have an awesome friend who got super crafty and made some great Valentines (see below). We did venture out on the sunny Sunday for some quick binge eating of Vietnamese food at the annual Tet Celebration. That was a good call. It was a beautiful day for a drive out to the East (when I wasn’t the driver) and it was nice to catch up.

And later, because I am a graduate student in English, I hung out with Henry James (really, dude…why so many words?) and enjoyed a long walk and two solo glasses of wine. Because you know what, I’d rather just date myself than someone that doesn’t light my fire.

12717504_10103695866555600_5276383802883651588_n(Photo and Art Cred: Camilio Estevez)

Dear 2015…

Dear 2015,

I wish I could say that it’s been great and I will miss you, but that would be total and complete bullshit. The fact that 2014 ended with me toasting bubbly with my coworkers after another long holiday season in the service industry ($$$) and then welcoming 2015 by getting super sloshed at work while we cleaned up leading to a near miss of my flight home on Jan 1 suggests how pathetic you would end up. But hindsight is 20/20, right?

To be fair, the ratio of good to bad in the year that marked the 30th anniversary of my birth wasn’t so so bad, and since I don’t have a television, I’ve been spared a lot of the past 6 month’s political discourse that social media tells me consists heavily of people saying stupid things that are unproductive and sometimes outright offensive. This resulted in some pretty funny memes though, so thank you?

I had a few new romances and handful of awful dates to laugh about and a lovely and passionate repeat of my favorite flame. (Watch out for those, they might burn you alive.)  I partied in some excellent outfits and danced the night away with some magical friends. I fell down pretty hard a few times (literally and metaphorically) but magically a I still get out of bed most days because everyone knows how much I love breakfast.

Surely it was disappointing, but the getting of and then quitting of a proper job was somewhat rewarding and suggested that one day I might find my niche in the adult world. I’ll let you know when I figure out where that is and what it looks like in case you want to join me. (On Pluto?)

You marked then 10-year anniversary of Hurricane Katrina and thus my ten-year anniversary in the city of New Orleans. What a long, strange trip it’s been.

I have a huge pile of books on my bedside table because I’m taking a course in the art of the novel (yaaay) so my sleepless nights will have no shortage of entertainment. <- in addition to Netflix, my usual array of books, an occasional late-night text session, and of course, my blog.

I’m not one for “resolutions” but I do have some goals for the coming year. First and foremost I plan to get my sister to pull through like the awesome chick that she is and help me make my AMAZING blog a better, funnier place to procrastinate at work. (For all 50 people that read it, you’re welcome.)

I suspect dating is the same in 2016 so I might opt out completely but there are a handful of restaurants popping up around town so once I’m done with a month of no dairy and no booze I’ll resume the regular consumption of food and drink. Om nom nom.

Also, because we managed to find the most horrific human to move into our apartment who managed to upset the entire home in a mere 2 weeks (Mind = Blown) I’m sure that the situation will eventually become funny and end up here because if you don’t laugh about it all that there is left to do is cry. And I don’t want to give myself any unnecessary wrinkles. I do, however, want to throw a frozen burrito at his head. I’ll explain that later.

So, 2015, I guess all that’s left is Happy New Year, bitch.

Yours faithfully,

Andrea’s Bananas

 

 

Three’s a Crowd

Okay, sometimes three’s a party (wink, wink) but certainly not in this case. Sometimes Boyfriend opted for Aspiring Senators Wife/Ex Sorority Girl instead of me again (yawn) right when I happened to have a weekend full of fun plans. Great news! This left me in the perfect spot to… drum roll… find the most physically and emotionally unavailable asshole in Mid City and then a few days later, go on a date: Hot Chef 2.0 AKA Mr. Wrong.

Ahh yes, you might remember Hot Chef so Mr. Wrong was a pretty bad idea considering the record I have with dating chefs. Married to his job? Of course. But I knew that before we ever met for drinks. Emotionally unavailable because of divorce? Yup. That’s where we deviate from the original. But the real problem with Mr. Wrong is the third wheel.

Who might this other be? Not his ex wife. Not his mother. Want to keep guessing or shall I spill the beans?

Apparently he is BFFs with his all-star bartender, a lady with whom I’ve spent several afternoons with over her stellar Hot Toddies, shared giggles over our mutual infatuation with a certain Jamie MacKenzie Fraser and generally enjoying each others company (and my generous tips on a slow afternoon). Turns out she is not my friend, and is actually a conniving manipulator. All great qualities. You go, girl!

A few days after our date, I came in after a big old party thinking that his restaurant was a good idea because a) Pho is great for hangovers b) Chicken and Waffles is on the menu c) Tons of things can get eggs on them. AND d) Not a hot spot during traditional brunch time. (Okay maybe a littttle interest in “bumping into” Mr. Wrong.  I also really wanted to bring the crew to my neighborhood so I could crawl into my bed without having to call a cab after grubbing.)

We sat down and ordered and I sent a casual text saying “Hey, we are outside having some brunch. No pressure but if you aren’t too busy and want to say hi…” or something like that. That day they also happened to be smoking a big whole animal: lamb? pig? I don’t know. It happens weekly so maybe one day I’ll figure out what the mammal is and perhaps eat some of it.

After some time, we were literally smoked out and decided to finish up at the bar. Great, I loved (past tense) the bartender. We close out with our server and decide that is a great idea to do shots and order dessert. It was, after all, a celebration! A little while later, I get the most awkward wave from as FAR AWAY AS POSSIBLE from Mr. Wrong. He walks away and I burst out with a giant “THAT WAS AWKWARD!” (Annnd I’m a little drunk.) Then, thinking that the bartender was a friend, I say “Gahhh that was sooo weird, we totally hooked up the other day!” (Okay, that was an overshare and I wish I hadn’t said that…) but then she said WITH A TWINKLE IN HER EYE,

“Really!? Oh my god how was it? I’ve been dying to know…”

And all I said was “He’s a really great kisser (*blush*)”

Later I get a very long, long text telling me that he would not like to ever meet for drinks again because “somehow staff got wind of our encounter and he keeps his work and private life separate yadda yadda yadda, but please continue to enjoy (his restaurant).”

It turns out, he is BFFs with home girl and not only did she tell him that I was being gossipy (which I fully admit was amateur) but she also told him to stay away from me and all kinds of not nice things. WOAH Bitch, you barely know me except that I tip really well and come in for lunch and have a drink and do some work. Thanks for your excellent Hot Toddies. They were my jam. But really, dear, I know you have a crush on him but why don’t you grow the fuck up and be the better person next time because three’s a crowd and I you are clearly stuck in the friend zone anyway.

Tall Dark and Handsome

Mardi (party.) Gras edition. In case you live in the regular world, it is Carnival and that means costume is the dress code and you are lame if you don’t get down with it. Costumes also help with bold behavior and bad pick up lines. They kind of go hand in hand. Also, people basically always have a drink or whatever substance du jour so there is a solid lubricant for funny things to be said to strangers (or ex boyfriends).

We threw an awesome party on Friday, and I was all about having a good time that night, surrounded by my best friends who all looked super fierce. Sometimes-no-more Boyfriend was there with his new Skanky Ho and that was annoying but its Mardi Gras and sometimes you just have to deal with it. Of course I wanted to vomit when he was spanking her ass and grunting in line in front of me waiting for Deep Fried Photo because that is just rude. Although, I remedied the situation by imagining pulling her wig off and getting into some crazy lady fight in the movie montage sort of way. As much fun as it would be to go all Heathers on her, this is 2015 and that is apparently not okay. Also he was being disgusting but in slight defense he didn’t know I was behind him during said spanking and grunting (vomit) and once he turned around they decided to quit on the line and that was a good call on their part. (Win.)

After we took some killer photos, I was walking toward the main stage and this guy, we’ll call him Puffy Coat Guy, was going the opposite way. He stopped me to tell me how beautiful I am and asked where my boyfriend was. Since he was Puffy Coat Guy and thus not in costume (lame-o fratty boy) I was not impressed but said I don’t have a boyfriend. I was in no mood to hear the word boyfriend since I was trying incredibly hard to not let Sometimes Boyfriend and Skanky Ho ruin my night. I responded with a general Go Fuck Yourself tone and offered a smirky not-so-sexy laugh because I was now on the receiving end of the worst pick up line ever. But then, to my (eh) surprise he said “well then we should make out because I’m super hot.” He actually said that about himself. So now he’s upped the game and I like his confidence. Since he was actually hot (although also a total douche) and had no mouth sores waving a red flag, I went for it. There’s me and I’m making out with some stranger. I wonder if he used this apparently successful line on some other girl later

Fast-forward awhile and this gorgeous girl said a version of the same thing! I laughed way cuter for her “where’s your boyfriend” comment because she was super pretty and you’ve got to respect the ladies. And, for the record, she was an equally good kisser and I mentally high fived myself before continuing to dance.

Saturday was Valentine’s Day. Great. I had an invite plus one to a bad ass party and no one to go with. You know what is cool about not having even a friend date? I met a boy! He lives Uptown I know this because he swore he would remember my number without writing it down, and I was shocked when he actually did. He had zero lame pick up lines but an amazingly sexy accent and sent me a text around midnight (because he could remember my phone number) and it read “Tall dark and handsome, we kissed passionately at MOMs Ball. You live in Mid City and I live Uptown.” But per usual, I had ran away and didn’t see the text until the next day.

Kissing is fun. But guess what happened later! I accidentally left my phone (damn you, phone!!) in the cab on the way home from the parades yesterday. After resetting my password (again) for the iCloud thing, I successfully tracked my phone – thanks for the lesson, Emily – as it drove around the city. So frustrating. I put a message with my address on it and prayed that with 7%… then 3% battery that someone would see it and help a sister out before the phone died. Around 10 AM I was sure that I would never see my phone again and I had a very sad moment when I considered that I’d never find this mysterious stranger because by the time a new phone arrived he would probably have given up on texting or calling me ever again as I realized I was busy parade-partying and didn’t write back (OH MY GOD I AM AN ASSHOLE).

Alas I am not doomed to fail miserably at everything… the doorbell rang right as I was starting to fill out the Verizon form online for a lost device and IT WAS THE CAB DRIVER! Yayyyy!!! He was like, “Hey, you forgot to pay me last night.” And I, in my fluffy pink robe, was mortified and ran upstairs to grab a wad of cash, leaving him bewildered downstairs. It turns out he was kidding – I did pay, and he was just being a super nice human and bringing me my phone. I tipped him $20 for the hassle and guess what, I have now a date! Happy Mardi Gras!

Damn you, Emily!!!! (WAG MY FIST IN THE AIR)

Awhile back I got a promotion, and with it a sweet new phone. I had a sometimes-boyfriend and it was looking like he might become an all-the-time boyfriend. I really liked this guy so it seemed like things were on the up and up.

Turns out I was wrong. Sometimes-boyfriend decided that he didn’t want to be my all-the-time boyfriend, but since he’s such a stand up guy*, offered to still help set up my new fancy iPhone.

Great, fantastic. It was fun, we had a good time and now I had a cool new iPhone like many of my hip friends. Sometimes-boyfriend set the whole thing up – my email, Facebook, Instagram, the Find My iPhone and also got me a few cool apps I’d never heard of. I was good to go and set off to learn about hashtags. #awesome.

Time passes and eventually, because it’s me, I lose my phone. “DAMN IT WORLD (whiskey?!)!” I bemoan, as I shuffle through my sheets, my bag from last night and every crevice of my couch. But then…a light. This phone is not like all of my other basic phones; this phone can be tracked! Huzzah! I win.

But wait, I’ve never used the Find My iPhone before. So I take to my computer, looking on iTunes, searching the web. WHERE CAN THIS MAGICAL MAP BE!?

I can just hear my phone taunting me. “I’m not like a regular phone, I’m a cool phone.” (Boobs bouncing in my face.)

Finally, I Google search, and voilà here is a map and it has a dot with an iPhone. But wait… it says Emily’s iPhone. I look further, not only does it show Emily’s iPhone, but it shows also shows her iPad, her MacBook Pro… ALL OF THE GADGETS! Ugh this bitch Emily has all of the toys and still I can’t find my phone. I’m pissed. Sometimes-boyfriend clearly set up my phone wrong. Who does this girl Emily think she is, anyway? Sure he was my sometimes-boyfriend but seriously, WTF.

Naturally, I take to g-chat to unleash my fury on sometimes-no-longer-boyfriend. “WHO IS EMILY!?” I want to know. “WHY CAN I ONLY FIND HER STUFF ON THE MAP!?”

He is confused. He literally has no idea what I am talking about. It’s confounding. The conversation is basically pointless and comes to an unsatisfying end.

End story.

Just kidding. I know…you are wondering, “Who is Emily?” and “Did you find your phone?” So I will tell you. Turns out, Emily is the default used to preview the Fine My iPhone app. My phone was at the bar where I left it and I could find MY phone by logging into the Cloud. And my dignity? Well… this was all too funny for me to worry about that.

Whoops.

I did actually apologize for the whole g-chat thing. But still… Emily, you kind of suck.

*Kidding.

Tinder is Stupid and Chinese Food is Delicious

So you read my last post, and you are like “Fuck you, Andrea. I don’t feel like defrosting the salmon in the freezer and I just tossed the kale today because I prematurely went grocery shopping and that shit was wilting.”

Fine. Me too. Don’t worry, order Chinese take-out. Definitely bring that home. I am absolutely not condoning a spree at some random buffet. You should have that number saved, and a back up number in case your first choice happens to be closed.

Christmas? No worries, I’m a Jew…that’s a thing. At least in the Northeast. Not sure about Louisiana but it is probably true here too. Unless it’s like bagels, in which case I’m sorry for getting your hopes up. And also don’t feel bad because they probably make a TON of money on Christmas. My work is open 365 days a year, and you know what…that’s their thing. We deal.

Chinese food is basically the cure-all, and can be consumed in bed if you really are feeling like getting down with it. It also makes for great leftovers, so don’t worry if you open the bag and they gave you utensils for 5. No big deal. You know there is no family eating this smorgasbord and they might too but they’d rather err on the side of caution. PLUS think of all the fortune cookies you get to open and not eat. Jackpot.

It’s better than Tinder. 30 seconds on my friend’s the other day I nixed everyone. And remain adamant that I will never, in fact, download that App. (Guess who learned what an App is? THIS GIRL!) Group picture? What the shit is that? I am not trying to group-date. Can’t tell how tall your are? Nope. Picture looks like it is ten years old? Definitely not. I’d rather cuddle up with some Chicken with Asparagus and Hot and Sour Soup.