Champagne Sunday’s: MEOW…

 

 

Act One, in which she pretends she does not care about him.

Act Two, in which he pretends he does not care…and goes right for her.

Act Three, in which it all plays out the way she planned it.

 

When it comes to the traditional game of “cat and mouse”, in modern times, some rules have changed and some have not. The formula remains the same: Men chase and Women choose…

 

Last night I had a great conversation with a friend. We discussed the pros and cons of being single and what we are wanting out of a relationship. Maybe because it is getting colder outside and the idea of hibernating with someone is becoming more prominent, either way we both are itching to settle down. He and I determined that we do not want to settle down with just anyone, we want to settle down with “The ONE”. 

 

It made me think (I do that sometimes), what does that really mean, “The ONE”???  I thought I found the “ONE” with my first love. Then I thought I found the “ONE” with my second love and now…I am hoping to find the “ONE” with my last love. I am a firm believer that 3^rd time is a charm. I guess it is the hopeless romantic in me but I truly feel that in order for a successful relationship to even happen…ONE must stop playing games and quit being the avoider and step up to the plate.

 

Unfortunately, since most men have taken the feministic approach to the “cat and mouse” chase, that puts me in a predicament because I am a bit traditional.  I do not think that I need to be the one who steps up to the plate and put myself out there.  I mean, am I a bad flirt???  Do I just exude absolute coolness with my outgoing personality and that scares “The ONE” off?! I just do not get it.  But isn’t that the excitement of the chase, the unknown??? Does he like me…doesn’t he like me…when will I see him next…will something finally happen…or will it be what it already is…TWO SCARDIE CATS…waiting for the other to make their move. 

 

Either way…I am going to give it a little more time and continue this “cat and mouse” chase.  Game on, PURRR…

Champagne Sunday’s: He’s Just Not That Into You: The No-Excuses Truth to Understanding Guys…

 

How many times have you heard your best friends tell you that he is just not into you and that you deserve better?! Lately, I have heard it one too many times.  Yesterday I received my first birthday gift in the mail. It was the Sex in the City DVD and a self-help book for dating. After calling my mum to voice my opinion on yet another self-help book that she has given me, I threw it in the corner of my room where the rest of those books go to collect dust.  REALLY…tell me something I do not already know.  Without even opening the book, I can give you a few reasons why I know that a man is not into me…  

 

• He’s not asking you out.  C’mon, if he has not asked you out in the 5 months that you have known him…then guess what little lady, SIGN NUMBER 1, he is not that into you!!!

 

• He’s telling you about all the other women he is sleeping with and taking out.  Seriously, are you blind???, how could you not see that this is SIGN NUMBER 2, he is not that into you!!!

 

• He’s is holding up the “FRIEND CARD”. Even thought he is flirting with you on OCCASION.  He’s a man, with a penis, don’t read into that…they all flirt, which is SIGN NUMBER 3, he is not that into you!!!

 

The list goes on and on…It is pretty sad and pathetic that I am naïve enough to linger on to liking someone when it is obvious that he is not into me…so instead if feeling sorry for myself, today I went to the book store to return the book my mum bought for me.  I could not return it for money, but I did return it for another self-help book, He Just Thinks He’s Not That Into You: The Insanely Determined Girl’s Guide to Getting the Man that She Wants…

 

JUST KIDDING!!! I totally did not get that book. I exchanged it for, The Last Self-Help Book You will Ever Need…

 

 

 

Champagne Sunday’s: Why can’t I take my own advice???

 

 

Dear Champagne Sunday’s:

 

I am a little embarrassed to say that I have not had sex in almost 6 months.  Not like I am counting or anything, but I am in my sexual prime and should not have this drought to say the least.  As much as I try to be a ho bag…I am not and do not believe in just hooking up with a “RANDOM” for a piece of ass. I do have someone that I will be visiting next week and I more than likely can recycle.  However, I do not want to use him just for sex.  What should I do??? I cannot FREAKIN take it anymore. 

 

Sincerely,

Cobwebs

 

Dear Cobwebs,

 

First off, I am so sorry your “Virginia” has cobwebs.  It does suck to be a classy woman.  Some people have the ability to have casual sex, but if you cannot be that person, then I understand the AWFUL drought you have been going through.  My heart goes out to you and your goodies. 

Second off, I am a firm believer that the only thing you should recycle is aluminum, paper, plastic and an occasional outfit. (Note: If you are recycling an outfit, then make sure that you do not go to the same establishment that you wore it last.) Plus, Karma is a bitch…if you use this person for sex, you know it will come back full circle too you…

Third off, I think you should just get yourself off.  Seriously, double click the mouse or do whatever it is you do.  At least, you’re guaranteed an ORGASM!

 

~ CS ~

 

 

 

Dear Champagne Sunday’s:

 

I am an outgoing person.  Sometimes my personality might scare off some people, but for the most part, I do have many male suitors.  So, there is this one guy that I like and one of my social friends called “dibs”.  I do not get how someone can call “dibs”.  Especially if this guy, does not even like her (I know this because I asked him). They never hooked up…but they might have made out once or twice or so he says.  I am not good friends with this girl, but I am not sure what to do in this situation, help a sista out!!!

 

Sincerely,

Little Dibbie

 

Dear Little Dibbie,

 

Rules for the game: The game played by young woman in which you call “dibs” on any young lad that takes your fancy. Players are limited to five “dibs” per evening out. When a player calls “dibs”, she must also tap another player with varying degrees of force, depending on the amount of alcohol that has been consumed. Once a young lad has had “dibs” called on him he becomes out of bounds for all other players for the entirety of the evening. Any player who flaunts this rule and continues to “pull” a man who has had “dibs” called on him, must pay a suitable forfeit.

 

~ CS ~

 

 

 

Dear Champagne Sunday’s:

 

I have recently became acquainted with a certain man.  We are just friends, but I think he might know that I have a small crush on him. Anyway, he is fun to hang out with and I am interested in getting to know him better even if he does not share the same feelings for me.  Unfortunately, my man friend is a “MAN HO” and everything that I want out of a partner, he barely possesses. So why do I still like him??? 

 

Sincerely,

I da ho…no, you da ho

 

 

Dear IDAHO,

 

You said it yourself, you have a crush on him and the only thing you are going to get out of this is your lil heart 2 stepped on.  I do not care if you want to be friends with him or not, that is still a recipe for disaster.  Let the “MAN HO” go and if it was meant to be and he comes back to you, then spray him down with disinfectant.

 

P.S. Better those girls willing to give it up than you…

 

~ CS ~

 

Champagne Sunday’s: An Ex is an Ex for a Reason…

 

 

Breaking up is always hard to do. I think that was a song. I was such a late bloomer.  My first boyfriend Matthew Fausto (Capricorn) was when I was 18 years old.  I was a freshman in college and he was a senior.  I was a cheerleader and he played soccer.  I was a loyal, trusting, naïve, inexperienced little girl and he was a party boy that cheated on me every chance he could get. I am not sure what it was that made me fall in love with him (probably because he was my first love), but it only took me minutes of finding out he cheated on me to fall out of love.  I remember asking him to come over to my campus apartment.  I had asked my brother and his friends to leave for fear that they would kick his arse.  (I lived with my lil brother in college.  He was the best c*ck block anyone could ever have.  Good thing because he prevented most of the douche bags from ever asking me out.) 

 

Anyway, Matthew Fausto came over and we had a long heart to heart.  After telling him that I was not happy and wanted more out of our relationship, he began to cry.  I really did not know what I wanted…all I knew is that I did not want him.  I felt sorry for him, for like half a second.  His blue eyes swelled up with tears and he began to ask why I was not happy and what he could do to keep me.  I wanted to tell him to jump off a bridge and die for being such a lying cheating b*stard.  Even then, I did not have a mean bone in my body.  I told him that I was not ready to settle down and he was.  He wanted to eventually get married and I did not see myself doing that anytime soon (if ever).  3 months after I broke up with him, he became engaged to one of the girls he was cheating on me with.  They are married now and have children.  He emailed me a year ago to see how I was doing.  I did not respond…

 

Having someone cheat on you can leave you a “Bitter Betty”.  Nevertheless, I have never let my past ruin my future.  Therefore, after my break up…I pressed on.  I was 21 years old and having the best time of my life.  I had a great group friends, I had my teammates and I had my best friend, my brother. They always say when you least expect it…you will find someone.  Well, it is true.  I would see out all the time a guy.  We would pass each other on the way to class, we shared the same weight lifting time (he played Lacrosse) and we ran around the same social circles.  One night, my brother and I stumbled down to Panini’s on 10^th and High.  If I remember correctly, it was a Tuesday because Chris Logsdon was playing. I see this person AGAIN and he finally approaches me.  (I was nervous and my armpits were sweating profusely.) He asked me where my boyfriend was. I told him I did not have one.  He pointed to my brother and said, “He is not your boyfriend”.  “Umm…NO!!!  That is my brother”. 

 

There was a sigh of relief. He apologized for taking so long to talk to me.  He introduced himself, Ralph Frank (Cancer).  He was an Italian from NYC and had an accent. (My mum always insisted that I date Italians.)  He asked me to go to a gig with him the following Thursday.  I had agreed.  I remember as if it were yesterday.  He picked me up at my apartment.  My brother and I were sitting inside watching TV when the phone rang.  Ralph Frank was outside waiting in his car.  When I picked up the phone, he said he was outside.  I said I was inside and not coming out until he came to the door like a proper gentlemen.  He came to the door and tried to be sooo cool instead of being himself.  My brother did not like him from the get go. I gathered my things and we walked to the car.  I stood in front of my door until Ralph opened it.  (Listen boys, chivalry is not dead!)

 

On our first date we went to see his friend’s band that was playing at the Red Zone (I cannot believe that place is still open.) The band was Ordinary Peoples. They were AMAZING and I still catch a show when they come to town!  After too many shots of Jaeger Meister (BARF!), I began to warm up to Ralph. He was very abrasive and had the “I am from NYC and I am too good for everybody” personality.  Definitely not my type, but I kinda liked his cockiness.  I was done drinking for the evening and switched over to Kettle One with water and a lemon (my drink of choice).  It was really water with a lemon, this way everyone still thinks you are drinking instead of trying to sober up!  I had a 7:32am Zoology class.  (Seriously, what was I thinking when I scheduled that?) Ralph sat down next to me and propped his feet up on my chair.  He was 6’2 and 250lbs not small by any means.  He was lookin good. He wore Diesel Jeans, which equates coolness in my book.  Actually, a good pair of jeans on any guy can increase his stock value.  Problem was, he had these white ankle socks on with his black suede Armani shoes (he was a label whore).  Who does that?  Of course, I made a smart arse comment on his fashion disaster and because I was not blessed enough to have a filter over my mouth, I offended him which was not my intention.  He said that I was a brat and that I should come over to do his laundry for him to make up for that comment. (Note to self…should have been a sign that he wanted me to be “Suzy Homemaker” little did he know I couldn’t cook, but I look really hot in an apron and heels!)

 

Our first date was fun.  For some reason we ended back at his place, 235 East Lane…oh the memories in that house. I ended up spending the night, but I only kissed him. I was classy then and I am still classy now…I never give my cinnamon away too soon.  I woke up at 6am and literally ran to my house to change cloths and make it to my 7:32am class.  (Please do not think I am bragging, but I was a scholar athlete and almost graduated with honors.  I have no idea how I did this because I never bought a book and never missed a party!!!) Ralph called mid afternoon after our first date (this was before text messaging became a form of communication) and wanted to see if I would go to dinner with him that night.  I declined.  I wanted to hang out with my brother and watch the OSU men’s BB game.  They were playing in the final four and I was bummed that I was not cheering the game.  Due to circumstances that happened at the previous ‘99 Sugar Bowl, I was not allowed to cheer the men’s tournament.  (Listen…I did not do anything wrong except I was at Rick’s Cabaret. I like the strips clubs only because I drink free!!!) My brother and I went to watch the game at the Varsity Club.  Matthew Alexander did not like Ralph, but he said that I should go to the party he was throwing Saturday night.  Therefore, I did…

 

It was the college party of the year.  They had 25 kegs and Ordinary Peoples and O.A.R. were playing on the balcony. Ordinary Peoples actually wrote a song about this party. I remember what I wore for some reason.  A white vintage baseball T-Shirt with blue capped sleeves, my Khaki overalls (dude…it was the 90’s bare with me here!) and my trusty Vans.  When I got to Ralph’s house, I went up to his third floor room to put my handbag in there for safekeeping.  On his bed was an over night, express mailed, UPS box.   It was open.  I took a little gander inside the box (Lets be honest, I am nosey.)  And low and behold…there were brand new black dress socks and a note from his mother that read…”I hope these socks bring you luck!”  I thought that was the sweetest thing and at that moment, I knew that I was going to fall in love with this kid.  Who knew that a pair of socks would result into a 7-year relationship?  I was in LOVE!

 

Ralph and I were the “All American Couple”.  We bought a house together and planned on getting married one day and having many babies. I am not going to lie the first 5 years were AMAZING! However, the last two years were AWFUL!  His career became his world and I became second best.  For a long time, I thought love was “self sacrifice”. I was willing to give up my happiness for him to have what he “wanted”.  We had it all…big house, fancy car, and all the superficial materialistic things one can have.  I needed none of that.  I felt (remember this is my version and my side)…I felt that I did everything for him and when I “needed” him most, he was not there for me.  March of 2006, I woke up as if I were Snow White sleeping for years and decided to change my entire life.  I had to schedule a meeting to break up with him.  It took me 4 days for him to finally sit down with me to talk about “us” or lack there of.  I told him that I was not happy and that I wanted more out of our relationship. Like my first…he began to cry. I tried to cry for dramatic effect…but to no avail…I could not. Ralph never fought to keep me…he just let me go. 

 

I packed up everything that I owned and that I was allowed to take in my Blazer (which my Blazer is currently trying to kill me…I will write about her later…but just picture Stephen King’s, Christine. In place of the really cool Plymouth Fury, picture a paid Chevy 95 Blazer with no heat or air conditioning and only two windows roll down and it never fails that something goes wrong with it every 6 months.  I really want a new car…but I can’t find my dream car…Electric Purple El Camino…pink dice in the mirror!!!)

Anyway, I left my cozy house, my dog (I still think of you and miss you Dolce) and my security blanket. I had no friends (he got those too!) and nowhere to go.

 

Ralph has moved on and I imagine he will be getting married sometime soon.  We have not spoken in almost 2 years.  It is for the best that we did not remain friends.  I do think of him often and imagine what my life would be like if I would have stayed with him, but then I realize that I would rather play in on coming traffic than go back to my old life and of course because an ex is an ex for a reason…

 

 

Champagne Sunday’s: Textual Relationships

 

Textual Relationships are the worst relationships you can possibly have.  I had several for almost 6 months now.  They were wild, crazy and so much fun, but today I have decided that I want something so much more.  After realizing that my textual affairs are getting in the way of a potential healthy relationship, I decided to call them all off.  The break up is going to be very difficult, but in the end, I know that this is going to be the best thing I have ever done for myself. 

 

One of my textual relationships began last winter.  My lil brother came into town to visit for Chrismakkuah.  We put in some quality time with the parental units and decided to venture into the snowy night for some drunken shenanigans and banter.  We put on our snow boots and walked down to the local pub.  We stopped at the park to make some snow angels.  I wanted to stay and play, but my brother, Matthew Alexander, was meeting an old college friend and we had to get to the pub.  Matt promised me that on our way home we could play on the swings, which are my favorite.  We got to the pub and Matt and his buddy began reminiscing of their recent holiday to Peru.  We had some laughs and played some really AMAZING music on the jukebox. 

 

After too many pints and too many shots, my brother and I started one of my social experiments.  I am always doing social experiments. This specific experiment was to find a person in the bar that my brother would not want me to date and vice versa. We were to exchange numbers and see how long our Textual Relationship would last.  I have to prefface that if my brother does not like you…then it will never work out.  Going into this social experiment, we already knew what the results would be and who would win. 

 

Of course, Matthew Alexander found the person who was ABSOLUTELY not my type.  He was clean cut, had dimples, a little on the heavy side and he wore those awful jeans where you can put a hammer on the side of them and I think he had ginger/red hair. I am not that superficial, looks are not everything, but I think from the get go, there has to be some physical chemistry, right?  Well there was nothing there!  The lack of chemistry made it easy for me to be the aggressor.  I am actually somewhat shy, but nowadays men have taken such a feministic approach when socializing with woman.  What gives?  Anyway, at that point, I had drunk plenty of liquid courage and I was ready to introduce myself. 

 

He was singing to one of the songs that I played on the Jukebox, so as clever as I am…I went up to him and said he was singing my song.  He laughed and said that I looked nothing like Bob Marley.  His humor charmed me.  We shot the shit and eventually exchanged numbers.  I saved him in my phone as “Club 185 Guy”.  That way I would remember who the heck he was when he texted me. (This was the only time I have ever met him.)

 

(Every Monday at work I go through my phone and see all the numbers that I have collected over the weekend and delete the randoms or save them as “NO”.  That way if they text, I do not respond.  I know it is pretty pathetic, but when someone asks for your number after they bought you a drink, what do you say or do?  In addition, you cannot give out fake numbers because they are typing the number in their phone and say that they are calling you and you need to save the number…like right in front of you.  I wish I could be a mean person, but I am not. Plus, Karma is a b*tch and she has my digits.  I have her saved in my phone under…DON’T F**K WITH!)

 

At this point in the evening, my brother was already making out with his social experiment and she was making wedding plans.  I laugh at my brother because he can get a woman to fall in love with him immediately. It is because he is so handsome and so charming.  Too bad, he is a heartbreaker! I am sure one day he will fall in love, now let us just hope that I like her!  We closed down the pub and headed back home.  We made a quick stop at the park to swing on the swings and had a little heart to heart. We pinky swore and made a promise on some private issues.  Still to this day, we have not broken that promise! 

 

It was Chrismakkuah Day and as a family tradition, my Mum and Do Da wake up and start cooking a feast.  My Do Da and I fight over the who gets the last cup of coffee and the last drop of Bailey’s, and we poke and prod at my brother who snores so loud he can wake up anyone with in a 5 mile radius.  I had my phone on me because I was waiting for a call from my sister who lives in London and my other siblings. I got a text at 10am.  I was assuming it was my other brother or sisters, but it was not. It was from “Club 185 Guy”.  I was shocked that he text me already.  I thought to myself, isn’t there a rule on waiting 3 days before you text someone from meeting them initially.  I did not respond until almost 10 hours later.  And low and behold…an immediate response. 

 

This was the beginning of months of him non-stop text messaging me.  He always wanted to meet me out and hang out with me. I was flattered at all the attention I was getting, because believe it or not…I do not get to many people chasing after me.  I would get sweet messages and I was traveling so much for work during the time of our textual relationship that it kept me from shear boredom on the road. 

 

I have to mention that I do not date. I thought that this person was nice and that I might reconsider my way of life. Therefore, when I got back into town from my travels, we set up a date via text message. He was going to pick me up and we were going to grab some food and see a movie…I HATE those typical dates.  I mean be freakin creative for F**K sake.  Because I am weird, I played out the entire date in my head.  I pictured spinach in his teeth, him smelling of really manly man cologne like Old Spice or something of those sorts. The awkwardness of uncomfortable silence during dinner and no escape route once we got to the movie theatre. Just the thought of that gave me major anxiety and I cancelled via text message.  I gave him plenty of time so that he may make other plans.

 

Anyhoo, he was pissed!  We got in our first textual fight.  I was getting very annoyed with him. Moreover, I was having a hard time managing my other textual relationships. I am not a good multi-tasker when it comes to my textual relationships.  If I was out and had one to many drinks, I would sometimes mess up and text the wrong person or send out mass text messages to all my textual relationships and see who would meet me first.  Well, Karma began to interfere with my little social experiments and it all started blowing up in my face so I had to bring it all to an end. 

 

Therefore, it is official.  Today I am single.  I have broken off all of my textual relationships.  At 11:11am today, I sent a mass text out letting everyone know that they needed to delete my phone number because I will no longer be responding to them via text messaging.  I have cancelled my text messaging package and any future relationship that I might have will be a relationship with someone who has enough guts to pick up the phone and call.  I have gotten several responses back wanting to know why I was no longer continuing our textual relationship.  I did not respond.  By 11:15 am, my phone began to ring.  I was in the process of sending a fax at work and ran back to my office to see whom it was.  Thank God, it was my brother. RELIEVED to see him on my caller ID. I told him about my break up.

 

After laughing his ass off at me, we talked about our weekends.  I gave him advice on his current textual relationships and he just continued to laugh at me.  And laugh and laugh…we said our goodbyes and hung up the phone.  Soon after I got off the phone with Matthew Alexander, I got a text that read:  It takes a real man to call a strong and beautiful woman, Love your Baby BrotherJ P.S. Go on a date already… I responded back…I will let you know if anyone ever calls to ask me out… 

 

FYI: If you did not receive a text from me, this does not apply to you…