...in the classic city

Chapter Two

It’s been two months since I’ve updated and at first, to be honest, I wondered if it might be better to end things there. However, a couple of my friends who read my blog said they’ve been waiting for an update. My blog originated as a dating blog — an experiment for myself that grew beyond my expectations in both readership and execution. Dating is a strange, strange world and a world that has been investigated from a variety of angles — but usually through the lens of singles. 

LVF and I have been together for several months now, and he’s been living here for over a month. At first, I must admit, I was afraid of being smothered. I’m so used to doing practically everything on my own and it took some adjusting. Things like grocery shopping, making dinner, working out and running errands were all things I did on my own time under my own rules. All of that has changed. 

When I was single I used to criticize women who did everything with their significant other. It’s annoying to see someone trade in their independence for a syrupy, overly affectionate safety net. That’s how I thought of things. Now, being on the other side, I see that it doesn’t always have to be that way. Granted, I’m still extremely independent and there are times when I need a night to sleep alone and collect my thoughts. However, I’ve learned to share and open up — something I’ve never been very good at with guys.

LVF is the type of guy that is extremely positive all of the time. He’s someone to share my dreams with and we’re generally on the same page about nearly everything. There isn’t a moment where I wish I was still out there on the battlefield. That being said, I do miss the stories I shared and have decided that I’m going to start sharing again — but not about my own adventures. This time, the very same friends who begged me to update are fortunate [unfortunate] enough to have their love lives showcased here, on my blog. Stay tuned :)

The L Word

One of my friends recently pointed out that this week is the one-year anniversary of my blog. A year ago I began this blog — a single, relationship-jaded wild child with a penchant for un-bridled hookups. It’s amazing how much can change in a year. I figured there is no better way to celebrate this momentous occasion than to fill you in on all of the most recent developments.

Last weekend, LVF signed the lease on a townhouse right outside my neighborhood, and will be moving in the first of the month. We’ve been seeing each other exclusively for over three months, but we’ve been dating for over five. When I went down to the island for the first time this summer — the time we got a hotel room on the beach — was the first time he told me he was in love with me. It seemed fitting that, because hotel rooms have played such a major role in the creation of our relationship, the first time he says “I love you” was in a second floor king size double. I didn’t tell any of my friends and, honestly, I didn’t even tell my mother. Hell, I couldn’t even divulge that detail to an anonymous blog audience. I was so completely head-over-heels that I didn’t feel I could share that particular sentiment until the people around me were ready to take it seriously.  This is partially because I didn’t want to be the girl who cried love — it’s been a wild year, after all. I want[ed] everyone to understand that it took quite a bit of soul-searching and self-reflection to reach a place where I knew this was right. Another reason LVF and I decided to keep our little long-term tryst slightly under-wraps was because we have a lot of people in common. His older brother is married to Engaged BFF’s older sister and, thanks to multiple family gatherings and a weekend in Vegas, we share a lot of friends. We didn’t want to share the degree of our relationship until we’d decided we were actually going to be together. After he signed the lease and set a move-in date, we decided to be officially official — though I’d known long before that we’d do whatever it took to make this work. As it turns out, most people weren’t very surprised that LVF and I had decided to finally commit. I guess things were always pretty obvious.

I used to believe that being “in a relationship” (in quotes because Facebook has made this a loaded term) meant giving up a huge chunk of who you are and gluing your identity to someone else. This is partially because my previous long-term relationship took every ounce of energy and left me with a bitter taste for both long-distance dating and relationships in general. The truth is, when someone cares about you — really, truly cares about you — they don’t want you to change anything. I went out with a couple of my single friends the other night and nothing had changed — save for the fact that I ended the night in bed alone on the phone with LVF. Instead of chastising me for drinking too much or grilling me about who I was with, LVF simply laughed at my inebriated story telling and said he was glad I was having fun. He doesn’t want me to give up my life any more than I want him to give up his. I’m still the same girl knocking back cocktails with my friends until closing time and that won’t soon change. It’s just that now, we’ll be knocking back drinks together. Now, instead of ending the night skinny dipping with drunken neighbors or hailing a cab with the next oops, I’ll be waking up to a guy who’s moving 250 miles to be with me.

The amazing thing in all of this is how much he’s doing to be with me, and how he’s never once made me feel guilty that he’s the one moving. My job is replaceable and my only tether here is an apartment lease. All things considered, I should be the one uprooting. In actuality, he’s moving a state away from his friends and family, transferring schools and every day he calls to say he can’t wait to be closer to me. 

In the past year I’ve dated some real sleaze bags, some weirdos and some really great guys. There was always something lacking. I never thought it was possible to find a guy who’s not only great looking and intelligent, but shares my same life philosophies, likes cats and genuinely cares about me. 

So, ladies, I’ve proven it. They do exist :)

On Giving In

Every time things start to become serious with a guy, I start searching for glitches and reasons it won’t work out. Whenever things start to get serious, I start searching for something to focus in on — warning signs of mental instability, strange quirks, personality flaws, physical defects and basically anything that could become a factor in a failed relationship. This annoying little evaluation begins on the first date and lasts for months — or at least until I’m proven right. Mr. Hot & Cold had more obvious setbacks that I consciously ignored, like his negative attitude and inability to compromise, while Mr. Shy had less important flaws, like chronically chapped lips. Cute Downstairs Neighbor had too much personality in a ‘he might be the perfect boyfriend or he might chop me up into little pieces’ kind of way and Just Friend was a liar and completely insane (again, these are more obvious traits). Cute DJ had bizarrely terrible posture in that too-hip-to-stand-up-straight kind of way, but Fedora Guy made obnoxious hand gestures and spoke with too much enthusiasm. College Ex, however, probably had the most unattractive traits of almost all of the guys I’ve seriously dated. He never showered and flirted with everyone, needed to be the center of attention at all times and drank himself into oblivion at least 4 nights a week. He changed his personality according to the group he was hanging with. Possibly worst of all, he almost never clipped his toenails. His persistence was really the only thing that won me over. In reality, I wasn’t physically attracted to him [soberly] until he somehow charmed his way into my life. I often wondered how he was able to surpass the layers of gatekeepers in my head and make it to my heart. (An obvious lapse in security on my own behalf.)

The second I greeted LVF in Vegas, I threw all caution to the wind — Example A being the fact that three hours later we were stumbling out of the elevator and drunkenly fumbling for the hotel key. Forty-eight hours after I landed in Vegas, he was admitting his feelings, and by the time I flew out we were already making plans to see each other again. It’s been 4 and a half months since Vegas, and all of it’s life altering occurrences, and I’ve stopped dating anyone else. In fact, I’ve systematically broken all of my own dating rules and regulations from day one. For example, he’s a year younger, lives 4 hours away and doesn’t like Ringo Starr. (All dating crimes in my book, but for some reason I’m granting clemency.) We have this really intense chemistry, we talk every single day and he’s crazy about me. So, naturally, I’ve started digging for flaws. All I can seem to come up with, other than listed above, is the fact that he has terrible taste in sunglasses. The fact that he’s intelligent, well-read, witty and completely adorable makes up for the rest. Although I’ve been completely blissful thus far, I can’t seem to stop looking for why this won’t work. I think it’s a defense mechanism — I’m afraid to get too close so I start sabotaging things in my head. This time, I simply can’t think of one reason why I shouldn’t be falling this fast.

Continuing along the same vein of everything-in-my-life-happens-at-once, I got a couple of leads on jobs I’ve applied to and started the tedious interviewing process. With jobs, much like with men, I have a tendency to be irrationally picky. Unlike with men, I decided to suck up my pride and realize that, given the economy, I need to take whatever experience I can get — even if that doesn’t mean having my own office at Vogue and a regular column in the NY Times. Hours before my first interview, LVF called to say he was moving here. He’s moving here to finish school, for better opportunities and, undeniably, to finally give ‘us’ a real shot. Better yet, this is all happening within the next month(ish). I finally let go, stopped searching for setbacks, and things are actually happening. One more life lesson down. More updates pending.

Back to calm seas.. sort of

Things are floating along fairly smoothly. After the bout of changes, I thought I’d be ready to settle into a routine again. The truth is, I’m not even close to returning to stagnant waters.

PIC moved to Texas and another one of my friends moved to California. After saying my goodbyes, I contemplated my own place and realized very abruptly that I really have no reason to still be in this town. I’ve graduated college, most of my friends have left and my job can easily be replaced elsewhere. My being here is largely due to my not being able to let go of my cheap and easy lifestyle. Moving to a bigger city means less free time, a more demanding job and a more expensive apartment. Not to mention, LVF is still planning on moving here in the extremely-near future to finish up his advertising degree. So I’ve been looking for any and all writing jobs within a commutable radius and hoping I can get things started soon. 

Speaking of LVF, we’ve been having more serious talks lately. The last time he came to visit we were telling each other stories and cuddling in bed and he got kind of quiet for a minute. Then, kind of out of the blue, said “So what am I supposed to refer to you as?” When I asked for clarification, he explained that when he’s telling people a story about something we’ve done, or describing me to a friend, he has a hard time just saying “this girl I’m dating..” This question started a rather lengthy conversation that has been brought up several times since. I told him that I didn’t really feel like we could call our situation a relationship because, based fully on experience, a long-distance relationship is really only a part-time relationship. The only way to really find out if you’re compatible with someone is to allow them to invade your personal space for an extended period of time. You need to experience things on the day-to-day level to find out if something can truly work. Call me crazy, but I refuse to make this officially official until distance is no longer a factor.

Last weekend I had my first test since our vow of monogamy. My roommate and I were hanging out at the pool with our newest Cute Downstairs Neighbor (the other one moved out..) On my way to grab another beer, I ran into an extremely attractive, early thirty-something guy with a cute smile. He was about 6’2” and prematurely graying (which I’ve always thought to be kind of attractive.) After a short conversation, he decided to come join us at the pool. The four of us hung out for awhile. However, when things started to heat up between my roommate and the CDN I was left alone with Silver Fox. We were keeping a comfortable distance and chatting idly when he leaned over in an attempt to kiss me. I moved to the side, and he immediately apologized. “Sorry,” he said, “I thought things were headed in that direction.” I quickly apologized for the miscommunication and explained that I was seeing someone. For the rest of the night, he gave me a respectful amount of space and I realized that, if LVF weren’t in the picture, I would most definitely have shared a late night fling with the Silver Fox. Fortunately, he only visits his condo in our building occasionally and has “other properties” elsewhere. Not that I would ever cheat, but I’d prefer not to have him permanently 2 doors down. A rich 30-something with an attractive build and multiple homes… and honestly, I’d take LVF over him any day. I just wish LVF were here to take.

Until he’s geographically closer, I’m still sailing solo. I just need to steer clear of the sharks.

The times, they are a-changin’

Do you ever notice that life seems to work in extremes? It’s either stagnant, or all at once. Usually, after a sort-of crescendo of change, I reach a point where I can do nothing other than reflect on the things that have altered and attempt to retrace the plot twists that lead to that moment.

Just a few short months ago, I was leading this carefree (ultimately selfish, but extremely satisfying) lifestyle wherein I spent the majority of my time jumping from date to date and painting the town with PIC. The idea of being in a relationship was physically repulsing and I couldn’t fathom any sort of turn-of-events that would lead me to feel otherwise.

Enter Vegas. A trip that, by all counts, should be the ultimate no-strings party escapade for any single person with any sort of libido. Most people leave Vegas with nothing more than a brutal hangover and an empty wallet. I left Vegas with a hefty crush and a confused conscience. 

LVF has successfully roped me in without meaning to rope me in. I used to brag about how much I loved not having to tell anyone where I was going or what I was up to. Now, I can’t imagine ending the day without recounting its events with him. In other words, this is what I’ve been waiting for and I never even knew it. 

I recently turned 23 and with the change in age came a multitude of other changes. LVF and I have become unofficially official; I was promoted at work, again; I can count on both hands the length of days it’s been since I entered a bar; PIC is moving to Texas. It’s all very bittersweet and I know that, deep down, this is how it was all supposed to happen. Fast.

Engaged BFF threw me a surprise party and several of my oldest (and some of my newest) friends showed up. LVF was there. It was overwhelmingly amazing, and at the same time, a little sad because I realized what a feat it has become to get more than a handful of people I love in a room at the same time. Because now, well, we’re all grown up. Bona-fide adults with full-time jobs, electric bills, wedding showers and mortgages. (Mmm okay, so I’m not including myself in the last two for, like, as long as I can run.) It’s odd. 

PIC gave me a trip to the coast for my birthday — a stay at a 5-star hotel and the whole she-bang. I figured we were going together and she said no, that it was for me and LVF because “hotels are your thing.” It was a poignant moment. Who would have thought, just a few months ago, that I would be taking a guy on a weekend vacation to the coast courtesy of PIC? 

Anyway, the point of this rambling is to give you fair warning. The contents of this blog is about to change - slightly. Sure, I’m still going to be dedicating a large chunk of verbiage to reflection on the  jungle that is the dating world. However, it might be from a less jaded and more learned perspective. I apologize in advance :)

“You’ll sit alone forever if you wait for the right time”

After LVF’s last visit, I knew things were getting pretty serious. I knew this for several reasons, but mostly because I started doing things I never do. I’ve found myself being extremely honest about everything and I stopped being interested in dating anyone else. To top it all off, I was extremely emotional when he left. So, after his visit, I decided that to “seal the deal” — to decide whether this was real or just a powerful figment of my imagination — I needed to go see him. After I got off work Friday afternoon, I drove to the coast and met him on the island he grew up on. The first night, when I got there, we stayed at his mom’s house. I realize it sounds extremely bizarre, but I’ve met his mother several times (long before LVF and I hooked up) and so it was all very non-weird. His mom gave me a big hug and told me she was glad I’d decided to come and visit. LVF immediately took my bags to his room and decided that we should take a late night walk along the beach. We walked along the shore and talked for a long time about how happy we were that I was there, about how much we’d missed each other and about how much the distance sucks.

The second day was an utterly perfect day from the moment I woke up. We left his mom’s house that morning and went to another part of the island where LVF had rented a room at an expensive and touristy hotel. We spent three hours on the beach before he coerced me into the waves (which was short-lived because we passed a tiny shark and I completely flipped.) He took me to all of his favorite spots and told me about his surfing adventures as a teenager, his family, past relationships. He seemed really eager to let me in on more of his life — things we’d never discussed. We went out for sushi that night, followed by drinks with a couple of his old friends. Several drinks later, we parted from his friends and headed back to the hotel. Up until that point, I’d been trying to hold certain things back. I’d wanted to keep things as they were — with us both suspecting that the other was just as serious, but not really cementing anything. As soon as we were alone in the hotel room, we both started spouting out all of the reasons why we needed to be together. At one point, he told me that I made him nervous because he felt I was “really kind of out of [his] league.” Which is ludicrous, really, because he’s incredibly attractive and completely hilarious.

The next morning we woke up just before check-out. Since we always seem to end up in hotel rooms together, we always have this period of time right before check-out where we lay in bed and talk. And it’s bittersweet, because it’s right before one of us has to leave. It’s timed and always too short.

Leaving was really difficult and, even though I tried, I couldn’t stop the tears. It just all seems so unfair that this is happening now when we’re both at these really strange cross-roads in our lives. The truth is, I’m going to give this a shot. There’s never going to be a “right time” when everything magically falls into place and the universe throws us together. I have to find a way to make this work. How can I possibly go back to being the seemingly free-spirited, love-jaded single girl and pretend like this never happened? To be honest, I can’t. Being single has its merits – this I can attest – but falling in love… that’s not half bad either. 

The Truth Will Set You Free

As children, we’re told that honesty is “the best policy.” But, much like the golden rule, few of us actually apply this worthy advice. Instead, we opt for the quickest solution to a sticky situation: Lie. One lie quickly multiplies as we find ourselves fighting to cover our tracks and suddenly we’ve built a house of cards — nothing is substantial and one tiny shake of truth could send everything flying.

I wouldn’t call myself a liar. No one really believes they’re a liar, even if they are. It’s just the nature of the beast. We want to believe the best of ourselves, we want to place ourselves on a moral pedestal — a realm above the rest of the sleaze of mankind. The truth is, though, that when you’re a single person dating multiple people — a little lie here and there hardly seems worth recognizing. Excuses for why we couldn’t hang out on certain nights, and alibis for where I was — all teeny, tiny half-truths that were, really, very harmless in intent. For months, I’ve been telling myself “I haven’t made anyone any promises.” Which is true. Or, at least, it was until recently.

When LVF came to visit and we discussed everything, I told him I couldn’t promise anything and I didn’t expect him to promise anything either. The fact of the matter is, we made unspoken promises and I’ve committed myself to upholding them. 

So, I went to talk to The Bartender. I went to his place after work and we immediately cut to the chase; I told him the truth. I felt that I owed him an explanation for being so MIA lately, and I said just that. I told him that because we’d kept things so casual, I never really knew where things were headed. I told him that I’d started seeing someone else and that things had happened all at once — that I had no idea things with LVF were going to actually turn in to something more. The more I talked, the more I noticed I was on the verge of tears. It’s weird to end something that’s been going on for nearly seven months, even if it was never really anything at all. He listened very carefully and, when I was done, he told me he completely understood. He said he’d figured something like this was going on and, despite the fact that he did actually want to get more serious with me, he knew that neither of us were quite there. He gave me a hug and told me that he never wants things to be awkward between us — which is what I’d been hoping for the entire time. I left, stopped by Dairy Queen for a much-needed blizzard, and went home. 

Then, I called LVF and told him that I’d gone over to The Bartender’s place and officially ended things. He said he was glad I’d been honest about all of this. 

The fact of the matter is that, even though it was emotionally taxing, being honest with both parties means that everyone is satisfied. The Bartender told me “I’d rather things end this way. I’d rather be set free than be sitting around wondering what the hell ever happened.” 

Maybe I should be honest more often.

All at once

Things have changed.

LVF came to visit last weekend, and everything changed. We’d been planning this trip for several weeks, and I was slightly nervous about how things were going to turn out. Part of me wants to make him fall in love with this town and move closer to me, so we planned the trip for the same weekend as a huge music festival. For weeks, we’ve been counting down days. And even though we talk every single day, it’s always a little nerve-wracking to see him in person. He admitted that he was also more than a little nervous to see me again, and so as soon as he got here, we both took a vodka shot. I changed out of my work clothes, and we headed downtown to see our friend’s band play. After a few drinks the nervousness melted, and we were back to our normal selves — telling each other stories and laughing about everything. I stopped caring about who might see us together and what anyone would think. Which is good, because I ran into both College Ex and one of The Bartender’s close friends all in the same evening. 

We walked back home that night, and everything immediately felt right. In fact, the entire weekend felt right. I took him to most of my favorite spots, gave him a tour of campus and a chance to experience the ridiculously intricate music scene that makes this town the perfect [temporary] 20-something home. My scheme seemed to work to the extent that he’s put this place at the “top of his list.” In fact, sitting outside a venue Friday night, he told me that if he did move here, despite the fact that he also loves the town, I would be a major factor in the decision.

We ended Saturday night at a quiet little neighborhood bar with Engaged BFF and her fiance, her sister and her sister’s husband — i.e. a chunk of the Vegas group. I sipped on vodka & Cheerwine (my new favorite alcoholic concoction) and, on the patio alone, divulged to BFF the whole messy situation. She told me that I’m making the right choice — treading lightly — but that maybe it was time to see what happened. I took her words into account, and later, back at my apartment, LVF and I had a long talk. He told me that, although he’d sworn off long-distance relationships, he wouldn’t be against giving it another shot if it meant being with me. I told him that I didn’t think it would work. I simply cannot do any sort of distance at this point in my life. If I’m going to settle down again, I need it to be something substantial, something real… not something part-time. He understood. Then he stopped for a minute and looked at me and said, point blank, “are we seeing other people?” And so I told him about The Bartender. I told him that I’d been seeing him, very casually, since January and that it is essentially over (once I tell The Bartender, anyway.) He admitted that he hadn’t so much as hooked up with anyone else since Vegas and, even though he understood, was a little disappointed that I’d been seeing someone. I told him that, because there is still distance and because we haven’t made a commitment, if he sleeps with someone else, that’s his prerogative. He shook his head and said, very sincerely, “Listen, I don’t want to sleep with anyone else. I don’t want to be with anyone else. Okay?” And I agreed and that was the end of the conversation. 

The next day, he had to leave and saying goodbye was much harder than I’d anticipated. Last time he left, I was a little sad but I got over it pretty quickly. This time, when he left, I cried. I felt like such an idiot, but I couldn’t stop it.

Later, VPIC asked how things went and I recounted the important parts of the weekend to her. She basically gave the same response as Enagaged BFF. “Just be with him…I keep finding how much it sucks trying to find someone you actually like.” And honestly, from one single girl to another, that’s pretty damn good advice. I’ve kissed lot of frogs and it’s just typical that the one guy I meet that seems perfect for me lives too far away. 

So I’m going to visit him next weekend. And maybe I’m crazy, but this is worth a shot.

Little Updates

Just when I’ve fallen into the 9-5 drudgery and seemingly made the final step into the land of adulthood, something happens to remind me that I am still very young. Something like skinny dipping at midnight on a hot June evening with a bunch of strangers. The way it happened was all very surreal — as if it could be any other way. You see, I was hanging out with one of my friends, whom we’ll call Nature Girl. We’d been sharing a few beers on my balcony, and noticed that the complex was buzzing. We decided to venture down to the pool to see if we could find any trouble. At first we were alone, and then a boisterous group of drunk college students busted in, began cracking open beers and introduced themselves to us. One girl suddenly decides that we should all shed our swimsuits and, thanks to the clouding effects of beer and heat, everyone agrees. Due to the cover of darkness and lack of pool lights, I gave in as well. Much later into the swim, Nature Girl ended up in deep-end conversation with a plant sciences major whom she ended up taking home. You see, Nature Girl majored in soil sciences and thus the two were a perfect match. I, on the other hand, ended up happily going home alone. Sometimes, that’s the best.

The Bartender is back and has been asking to get together again, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to handle this. Honestly, would it be less awkward to always be “too busy” until he eventually stops getting in touch? Or would it be better to have a conversation in which I tell him that this is becoming far too regular? The ultimate goal here is to minimize emotional impact and maximize the potential to stay friends. I’m just not sure if that’s altogether possible.

LVF and I are still texting daily and have graduated to Skyping a few times a week as well. He’s coming back to visit in a couple of weeks and I’m coordinating plans to visit him next month. We’re still not making any plans and we’re still not calling this anything. Sometimes I notice certain differences between us that, even though they seem like nothing, could prove detrimental if we were to actually live closer and date for real. Maybe. Then again, you really don’t know anything about a potential relationship until it actually happens. 

Back in my single reality, I’ve been focusing most of my energy into an extensive job search and less on the dating world. I’m craving a change, and I think getting my journalism career started may be just the cure. And, in other single news, College Ex’s ex-girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend got in touch with me recently. We actually met before I met College Ex and before he’d met College Ex’s ex (still with me?) Anyway, I think I like the irony of it more than I’d probably actually like hanging out with him. After all, change is the focus. A few dozen links to my not-so-far-passed past doesn’t exactly mesh with the plan. But I figured it was noteworthy.

As for now, I think I’m going to go back to daydreaming about actually having a shot with LVF.

Happy anniversary to me

I’ve officially been single for [almost] an entire year — quite the mile marker, I know. I haven’t been single for this long since I was a eighteen. I must admit that, throughout this past year, I’ve learned a great deal about myself, had time to reflect on what I want [and experience a lot of what I don’t want], gained loads more confidence, and finally mastered the art of independence — both financially and emotionally. I can’t say that I’ve reached any sort of relationship nirvana, but I do know that because I am fully capable of being happy alone, I’m much better prepared to be with someone else. One thing that’s interesting about spending so much time casually dating is that I’m really quite used to doing things solo. I don’t have to be home at a certain time, I don’t have to call anyone and I don’t have to factor anyone else’s feelings into the decisions I make. I’ve actually grown to like it that way. I have a sneaking suspicion, though, that when I do get into another serious relationship, I’m going to have to re-learn how to be a girlfriend. However, given recent events, I think it will be awhile before I’ll be falling into that role again.

I saw The Bartender last week. He was about to leave town for a week and wanted to hang out beforehand. He came over Wednesday night and we rented a movie and split a bottle of wine, as usual. This time, well, I didn’t exactly fall asleep early. And, to be honest, I felt nothing. All things considered, it was very vanilla…and I’ve always preferred rocky road. While the lack of emotional attachment is the main reason things were so great in the beginning, it’s now past expiration. The thing that sucks about this is that he truly isn’t a boring guy, and I genuinely enjoy his company. Unfortunately, the chemistry is lacking. I was hoping it would die a natural death, but it’s becoming increasingly clear that we’re going to have to have the talk.

Mr. LVF and I, however, have continued our almost nightly phone dates. We never run out of things to talk about, and we share the same ridiculous sense of humor. For example, we recently had a conversation about how it is entirely likely that cats could take over the world. If I were to say something similar to any other guy, it would be met with either a blank stare and/or utter confusion. LVF and I also have this crazy chemistry made all the more intense by the distance and our inability to be together right now. (Which, to be honest, can be kind of fun.) He’s adorable in that button-up shirt and scruffy side-burns kind of way that is totally becoming “my type.” (Much more so than the tattooed, un-showered, overly-priced hipster t-shirt wearing douchebags I’ve previously fallen for.)  I’m not banking on anything and I’m not making any promises, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think more would come from this. I’m just not sure of the specifics (such as when…how…where…)

For now, I’m perfectly content to spend my weekend nights out with friends, flirting for fun and going home alone. A year ago, I would have walked into a bar and immediately headed for the darkest corner. Now, I can walk in and have three rich-boy law students offering to buy my drinks within minutes (i.e. Friday night), and I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t a blast. And, for the record, I buy my own damn drinks.