Tag Archives: weekend

Stage Five Clinger

4 Sep

I spent a few days in Vegas this past weekend, and this is just one of the stories that made it out.  What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas…unless it’s blog-worthy.

Though I came home with a menagerie of stories and misadventures from the weekend, the most interesting so far has been with the Stage Five Clinger.  I met him playing craps and it seemed his luck extended past the tables because he ended up with my number.  We texted a bit throughout the afternoon and evening but weren’t able to cross paths again that day.  The next morning at 6am, he texted to see if I was still awake, as he was getting ready to head out and catch his plane.  It’s Vegas…so of course I was still up and ready for a mid-morning date.  We met up for coffee  (his was Starbucks, while mine was Irish,) and chatted for over an hour.  He asked if he could whisk me away for a weekend, and I HAD to say ‘yes.’  (Like I’m going to say ‘no’ to someone offering a weekend getaway…that’s like saying, “No no, I DON’T want stories for my blog…”)

We parted ways and that’s when the mass texting started.  At first, it was innocent enough:

“It was great to meet you, have a great day.” (That’s a perfect follow up text – much appreciated.)

“You are incredible.” (I’ll take it.  I mean, no one is arguing with him here.)

“I hope to see you again.” (Ok, you’re confirming this weekend getaway business, I get it.)

Then, the unnecessary status updates and pointless texting started:

“Boarding my plane, I won’t be able to talk for awhile.” (Um…yea, I know, you DID say you were headed for the airport.)

“Just landed.  Are you home yet?” (No…but why does it matter?)

“Miss me yet?…LOL.” (Umm…are you being serious or ironic?  Either way, superfluous.)

“Good morning sunshine!” (Yes, I’m awake…does this warrant a response?  I need to get ready for work.)

Though this was a little more than slightly annoying, I decided to deal with it because I knew the weekend trip would make up for the over-texting.  Plus, that could likely be easily fixed in one conversation.

That night, during what I can only describe as a textaholic overdose, he asked me what happens if we “get serious.”  (Obviously, he does not know me well.)  I told him to slow his roll; if we wanted to pursue something (which, let’s be honest, is highly unlikely, not only due to my conflicting schedule with his Textaholics Anonymous meetings, but because I can barely commit to plans for a Friday evening, much less a cross-country relationship,) we could figure out the how’s and why’s later. Otherwise, I just wanted a fun weekend in Napa.

Then came the incessant texting…I was sitting at work the next day, and a text came through.  I didn’t check my cell because I was on the phone with a client.  Then I heard the alert again.  …Again, I ignored it.  A minute later: another alert.  Then another, and another.  Finally, I got off the phone with my client and checked my messages to see who had the emergency.  This is what I saw:

“Hi there!”





“U there?”

My response?  “Don’t be clingy. It’s unattractive.”

Later that night, after returning home from the gym, I saw two messages.  “I miss you” and five minutes later, “Hello???”

My (final) response: “You’re creeping me out.”

The idea of someone flying me out to Napa Valley for a whirlwind romance IS tempting and I’d loved to have gone.  Plus, the blog fodder from that weekend would have been priceless; I’m sure.  However, when dealing with a Stage Five Clinger, it’s best to cut your losses as soon as you’re able.  Otherwise, Stage Five Clinger turns into Number One Stalker.

To my Stage Five Clinger, because I know you read the blog:

A piece of honest advice – and please don’t take offense – you’ve got a lot to offer; you shouldn’t give it out so easily.  Playing hard to get is a necessary evil.  Flattery will get you everywhere, but too much of it will get you a restraining order.  The line between not enough and too much isn’t exactly a fine one.  There’s plenty of room for variance; in the future, just reduce your standard deviation.

Remember: If you’d like to submit a question or funny story for the Mid-Week Meltdown, send an email to myvaginamonoblogs@gmail.com, with your name, age, gender, and a little something about yourself.  I try to answer all questions in a timely manner.


Mediocre Man

14 Aug

A turkey sandwich on wheat, hold the mayo.  You can order it pretty much anywhere and it will generally be just what you expected.  Nothing special about it, but it does the trick.  It’s not exactly filet mignon, but it’s better than a TV Dinner.  It’s not the best sandwich in the world – there’s no avocado slices or Chipotle dressing; the bread is plain and the mustard is yellow.  It’s a typical weekday brown-bag lunch.  Will you have it again?  Probably.  If someone offered you a trade for roast beef on Rye, would you take it?  Probably.  Would you rather not eat at all?  Definitely not.

That’s what this new Match.com-er is to me.  Mediocre.

Mediocre Man and I grabbed a few glasses of wine and a cheese board at a local wine bar a few weeks ago.  That first date was…alright.  He was attractive, but not drop-dead gorgeous.  His was personable and could hold a good conversation, but I wasn’t hanging on his every word.  His stories were moderately entertaining and his jokes warranted a chuckle, but I wasn’t gasping for air between guffaws.  It wasn’t a bad date by any means, but it was nothing to write home about either.

When he asked to see me again, I found myself saying, “okay, why not?”  Much the same as a friend asking if I’d like to go to Subway for lunch.  “Okay, why not?”  I need to eat, right?

Our second date was…just about the same.  We did the customary dinner and a movie,  the universal standard for average dates, but I can’t say I was surprised by the irony.  We ate Thai food, and I can honestly say my Spicy Chicken Gaprow was more memorable than the conversation.  Again, it wasn’t bad or even boring; it was just fine.  Just.  Fine.

He scored points for the kiss.  On a scale from 1 – 10, I’d rate it a 7.  Slightly better than average.  (It was the Pepper Jack Cheese on my turkey sandwich.)

After the second date, I debated whether or not to see him again.  I don’t know if mediocrity is something I’m okay with.  I don’t think I could eat a turkey sandwich everyday.  But, when he asked me for a tennis date this weekend, I accepted.  I love playing tennis and I can always use the practice….and maybe this time, he’ll bring the spicy mustard.

Maybe today’s blog wasn’t nearly as exciting or entertaining as if I’d been on a date with a guy who had Turrets Syndrome or an anger management issue.  Maybe not everything in life is supposed to have PIZZAZZ!  Maybe we need mediocrity to appreciate uniqueness.

So what did I learn from Mediocre Man?  I’ll take the ups and downs of dating and the risks and rewards of being atypical any day.  I guess “drama’ isn’t as overrated as people say.

Remember: If you’d like to submit a question or funny story for the Mid-Week Meltdown, send an email to myvaginamonoblogs@gmail.com, with your name, age, gender, and a little something about yourself.  I try to answer all questions in a timely manner.

Nesting…it’s not okay.

10 Jun

You know, women always get a bad rap for being the ones who get “attached” first in a relationship.  You’ve seen Wedding Crashers, I’m sure you recall the “Stage 5, Clinger.” Well, I’d like to speak out for women (not that this is different than any other day, mind you,) and say that men are equally guilty of the same crime.

As some of you may know, I’ve been seeing a lot of a certain someone recently, and have been skimping on first-dates.  (You can’t blame me; the man has a body like Zeus and wears a uniform to boot.  Ladies, you KNOW what they say about men in uniform…)

Anyhow, he’s been tip-toeing around the “inner circle” for awhile, and this weekend I let him slip in, (yes, I realize what that sounds like, let the “That’s What She Said” jokes rain down…) by meeting a few of my friends.  I even had a small dinner party Monday night that ended up being a bit of a double date.  Things went…okay, but I don’t think I’ll be letting him any further into my world… Let’s just say that he didn’t exactly “wow” anyone with his grace or charm.  (i.e. showing up with Hotel For Dogs as a movie pick and apparently being totally serious about watching it.)

Tuesday evening I spent some time tidying up the house and mulling over the idea of “phasing him out.”  As I was doing so, I ran across a canister of shaving cream.  …Men’s shaving cream.  Okay…I thought, that could have been an accident.  One little bottle of shaving cream.  No big deal.

I shook it off and was gathering laundry around my room when I noticed a T-shirt.  A man’s t-shirt.  Alright…maybe he was in a hurry when he left…

Then, as I moved into the living room, I saw his motorcycle helmet, and froze like a deer in headlights.  The extra helmet he generally keeps on his motorcycle for me (or whomever might be riding on the back of his bike,) was sitting on the end of the couch, staring me in the face.

Tsk, tsk, tsk.

After my momentary lapse in the space-time continuum, I realized that this meant the beginning of the end for us.  It was as if the helmet was saying, “It’s okay, I’m just here waiting for the next time he comes over…and the next time…and the next time…”  <Cue scary movie music.>

If the awkward dinner party didn’t seal the deal, this nesting business surely does.  That helmet in the corner was like the nail in the coffin.

Let’s have a little lesson about assumptions.

1.) Never assume that you are seeing someone exclusively.  If you haven’t had “the talk,” dating other people is still fair game.

2.) Never assume that you can leave personal items at someone’s house – you never know who they are expecting for dinner the next day.  (Please see point 1 if you are assuming it’s you.)

3.) Never assume.  Period.

I’m sure you’ve all seen the Assumption Breakdown before, but it’s always nice to have a reminder:

Never ASSUME.  It makes an ASS of U and ME.

It really is a shame though, he had so much potential…I wonder how many push-ups he could do with me sitting on his back.

(Yes, I realize what that sounds like, let the “That’s What She Said” jokes rain down…)

Really, guy?

12 May

A few months ago, I was heading home after crashing at a friend’s place the night before.  It was a LATE night and I was a hot mess the next morning.   As I’m driving down the highway, I hear incessant honking.  I look to my left to see what the commotion is about and I see that the guy driving next to me, on the otherwise empty road, is obviously honking his horn at me. I look at him and mouth, “What?”

I’m thinking maybe I drove away from the gas station without closing the gas door or with my purse on the roof of my car, (and yes, I have been known to do that on occasion.) Or maybe, one of my tires is really low and he wants to make me aware.  What a nice stranger.  …Right.

As I look at him expectantly, waiting for him to point to my tires, or the roof of my car, (or really, anything that would explain why he is attempting to communicate with me while we are both driving 75mph down the freeway,) he just sits there, with a giant goofy grin on his face.  He then rolls down his window, and, assuming he has something of importance to tell me, I roll down mine as well.  And I wait.  …and he just sits there…smiling.  Then comes my favorite part.  No joke, he gives me “the nod.”  …THE NOD.

Really guy?  That’s what you wanted?  You wanted to flirt with me at 7:30AM, on the 163 North, going 75 mph?  Really?

What an effective way to pick up girls.  I mean, really, I’m so turned on just thinking about it!  I was so excited I didn’t know what to do; should I scream my phone number out the window?  Should I pull my top off in a fit of flattery-induced adrenaline and flash him?

Instead, I decided to immediately pull my car over and we made sweet love right there on the shoulder of the highway.  Really, what ELSE could I have done when he was just so…debonaire.

Come on guy.

You Get What You Give

11 May

Something happened this weekend that made me realize that it’s very easy to analyze and critique all the men that I date via a public forum, but not so easy to put myself on blast.  So today, I’m going to do just that.

I had plans with The Mad Scientist this weekend, but hadn’t hammered out the details yet; I’d only requested that we do something out of the norm – no standard dinner/drinks.  I get an email Friday evening asking if karaoke with friends was cool – and I thought it was an awesome idea.  Generally, I like one-on-one dates, but 1.) I LOVE karaoke, and 2.) I like outside-the-box thinking.  I said we should get dinner beforehand, and everything was all set.

Later, a friend asked if she could join us for dinner, and I realized that I wasn’t sure if the “group thing” was happening for sushi as well…so I asked.  His reply was, “the more the merrier.”  Okay.  Well…again, I appreciate the sentiment, but I was starting to wonder if something had been misconstrued.  I wasn’t sure if this was a date…or hanging out with friends…or some combination of the two.

In the spirit of open communication, I told him that it was cool to invite friends to dinner…but was confused as to whether or not this was a “date.”   He told me that he was unconventional and didn’t see why it wasn’t a date, even if we were with a group of friends.  (Touche.)

THEN came the twist.  …and I quote, “But don’t be offended if I hook up with another girl.”


I was taken aback at first, but realized that we are both quite single, so maybe I shouldn’t scoff.  I proceeded to tell him that I’d rather just not consider it a “date,” then.  In my dating experience (and I think we all know that I have plenty of it,) if you show up with someone, you leave with them.

I then proceeded to tell him that I thought of myself as “the best thing since sliced bread,” and couldn’t fathom him thinking any differently.  To which he replied, “you are definitely HOT! and confident.” (Dually noted.) He went on to explain that he lives to explore and experience, and that (basically,) he wasn’t limiting himself.

(Did you hear that sound?  That’s the sound of my ego getting bruised.)

Look, if you’re a woman, and you’re reading this, I know what you’re thinking.  Rude, right?  Why wouldn’t I tell him off and skip the outing altogether?  Well, women, here’s why: I kind of asked for it.  I mean…do I not do the EXACT same thing with the guys I date?  (Please see Friday’s blog  “A Means To An End.”) I date rampantly – exploring and experiencing new people on an almost daily basis. (Sidebar: By no means does this infer that I’m ‘whoring it up,’ by the way.  Dates do not necessarily equate to anything sexual.)

So, why then, if I feel and act exactly the same way he does, is this damaging to my pride?  I’ll tell you why.  I’m selfish.  Plain and simple.  I want (and am accustomed to,) men to be all about me, and devote 100% of their attention to me, even though I might not (and usually don’t,) feel the same way.  And yes, I realize how bad that sounds…but if we’re honest with ourselves, we ALL feel that way to a degree. (i.e. getting unnerved at the sight of an ex with another person, even if you broke up with them.)  I’m just willing to openly admit my hypocrisy.

So today, I’m not angry, or frustrated, or even bitter.  In fact, I feel a bit enlightened…albeit with a slightly bruised ego.

A “Wittle Probwem”

4 May

I had date #2 with Motorcycle Man last night and boy do I have a blog for you…

When he asked me out for Sunday night and asked what I’d like to do, I told him what I REALLY wanted was to go ride bumper cars – but didn’t think Disneyland was really an option.  I also told him that I’d settle for going on a ride on this infamous motorcycle of his.  He agreed and said he’d give me a call later to figure out the details.  So, when he called me later and said “Motorcycle ride and bumper cars it is,” I was pretty impressed.  At 6:30PM, he rolls up in front of my house (on his motorcycle,) and I was kind of overwhelmed.  Let me just say, I’m not one that gets excited by fast and/or flashy cars…but as he parked his bike and took his helmet off, I felt like someone slowed down time for a minute and, not surprisingly, started playing “Highway to the Danger Zone.”

I saddled up, only slightly scared for my life, and he took me to Belmont Park (a beachfront amusement park in Mission Beach that I’d COMPLETELY forgotten about!)  The motorcycle ride wasn’t nearly as scary as I’d anticipated, and to be totally honest…it was a BIG turn on.  (Come on, you’ve seen Grease…big engine, leather jacket, what’s NOT to like?)  So we decide to have a drink before riding rides, and settled on a bar that was blaring music from the 80’s and early 90’s (ALWAYS a good choice.)

Everyone in the bar is dancing to the likes of Blondie, AC/DC, and Journey, when Whitesnake’s “Here I Go Again On My Own,” comes on and I say, “I don’t know why, but I feel like this would be a great partner figure skating song…you know, when they do a lift, and the girl looks like she’s flying?”

**Please see this pic for reference: http://bit.ly/NjT57

I look at him, he looks at me, and I say, “Let’s do it.”  He picks me up, a la the figure skating partner lift, and carries me across the bar, only to receive roars of approval from everyone at the bar.  It…was…AWESOME.

After that, we rode the roller coaster, the bumper cars, and even played in the arcade.  All in all, it was an incredible date!!  We get back to my house, and as he’s walking me to my apartment…something happens that could put a damper on ANY evening.

….Baby talk.

And okay, it wasn’t all, “ooh, you awe so cutesy-wootsy, I wanna give you a wittle kissy-wissy,” but it was NOT something I’m ever interested in hearing again.  (i.e. “Ooh, tank you.” or “Well, I tink so…” or “Yes, dat’s right…”)

Now, I’ve yet to mention this, but I think now is an appropriate time:  Motorcycle man is in the Navy.  Though I generally avoid dating Military men in general, I wasn’t aware of this fact before our first date. So, I don’t know…maybe because he has this uber-tough facade all the time at work, he feels like he needs to revert to the exact opposite when he’s with a woman…but this is NOT gonna fly with me.

My head is still spinning today!  I mean, this is a crazy sexy man, in the military, with a body like a Greek God, who rides a freaking Harley…


Come on man.  You’re killing me here.

Black Out Dates

29 Apr

I did something this weekend that was kind of…snatchy.  I don’t really know how else to put it…snatchy seems to be the most fitting adjective. I’ll tell you the story, and you be the judge.

Generally, I reserve my weekends for time with friends.  First dates get Monday – Wednesday, and the occasional Sunday or Thursday night.  But Friday and Saturday?  Those are for my friends.  They’re like dating black-out dates. If you’re wondering about why I split my time up, please see yesterday’s post, Friends…or “Friends.”  Anyhow, until someone shows promise for the elusive, “something more,” they remain in the weekday cycle.

As I was sitting at brunch with some friends on Saturday afternoon , I got a text from The Rescheduler (see last week’s blog, A Welcomed Break,) that asked what time we were meeting up…it caught me totally off guard as I forgot to put in my calendar.  Oops.  The only reason I planned it for Saturday was because we had to reschedule a few times, and he was going out of town for three weeks, so I caved and booked on the weekend.

Though I wasn’t really feeling up for a date, I figured I should keep my word and told him 3;30PM would work.  I arrived home and immediately got a call from a friend inviting me to go to an art walk.  I still had a few hours, so I agreed, and we headed out.  As we were getting ready to leave, I realized there was no way I’d be ready in time to meet up with The Rescheduler by 3:30, so I called and asked to move it to an early dinner date at 5:00PM instead; he was totally understanding!  What a nice guy!

On our way to the art walk, we figured we should probably get a cocktail…I mean, art = culture = cocktails, right?  As I was enjoying my tasty beverage, I thought…I’d better move it back just one more hour.  I texted this time, and again, he was totally fine with it!  I was impressed at how easy going he was, and shared that with the girls.

After cocktail #2 (a delicious mojito, by the way,) my friend Lyndsey looked at me, looked at her drink, then looked at me again, and said, “I don’t want you to go on your date! I want you to stay with us!” (Sidebar: you may be reading this thinking, ‘Wow, that sounds incredibly whiny,’ but really, it was sweet…almost moving…which I hope explains the following course of events.)

Lyndsey: “Don’t go on your date!”

Me: “I know…I know…but I can’t cancel, we’ve already rescheduled three times and he is going out of town for three weeks!! Ugh.  You cancel for me!” (Please note, I was COMPLETELY joking when I made that statement.  I wasn’t suggesting that she actually call and cancel for me…but Lyndsey…well she has a mind of her own…

Lyndsey: “Fantastic idea!”

<she proceeds to call The Rescheduler from my cell> And ok, she can’t really be to blame here, I mean, I did dial the number for her.

Lyndsey: “Hi! This is Lyndsey, Andrea’s friend, and I have some bad news.  I know you have a date but, well, I’ve kidnapped Andrea.  You see, we’re drinking, and I drove, so I couldn’t possibly drive her anywhere as I wouldn’t want to break the law.  Really, it has nothing to do with her, she really wants to go, but she doesn’t have a choice.  In fact, I saw your match.com profile and think you’re totally cute! BESIDES, you’re going out of town for three weeks! If you go out with her now, you’ll have a great time, and you’ll just MISS her like crazy.  You guys will have to call and text…honestly, you’re better off just waiting til you get back in town!” <talking on the other end> “mmhmm…yep! Thanks for being so cool about it! You’re totally in with us already! Ok great! Bye!”

I was oddly impressed and embarrassed at the same time.

She said that he was totally cool with the whole thing, laughed it off, and said he totally understood.  Still…I have a feeling this date will never come to fruition.

Yes, yes, I realize in hindsight (and honestly, I realized it in the moment as well,) that it was a slightly (or maybe just shy of incredibly,) childish move…and shame on me for not speaking for myself.  Though, you have to admit, it’s also hilarious.