From the guy who can't forget me (Grammar Guy)...

... to the guy who doesn't even REMEMBER me (Amnesia Guy).

A few weeks ago, I got a Facebook friend request from a guy I briefly hung out with a couple of years ago. He and I had met at the Winking Lizard in Lakewood while we were both there watching a Cavs game.

That nite, he gave up his bar stool for me, we chatted all nite and then exchanged numbers (and a kiss) at the nite's end.

In the ensuing weeks, we hung out at each others' houses a few times, watching Cavs games and movies. We texted a lot, though we only occasionally talked on the phone. (Go figure.)

I even still have his number in my phone. (Remember my rule about not deleting numbers?)

Fast forward to the past couple of weeks.

I thought it was a little odd that he added me as a Facebook friend, but we did know a couple of people in common so I didn't think it was all that weird.

Until I got this message a day or so after I accepted his friend request:

Hi AAB,

i recently ran into someone that said that you and i went on a date that i cant rmember. You are a beautiful girl and im sure i wouldnt forget that. if we did go on a date please refresh my memory and let me know when and where and please forgive me.

I hope all is well.

Amnesia Guy

(AAB sidenote: I've gotta believe the person who told him that was The Banker, since they knew each other from growing up, which The Banker and I discovered when we were talking one day.)

For mother effin' real? How do you not remember hanging out with someone on a NUMBER of occasions? I mean, I get it if someone's name doesn't necessarily ring a bell. Or if you only saw the person one time. But c'mon.

The kicker is that we hung out no fewer than four times. And, I actually think there were a couple of other times that we ran into each other when we were out with our own groups of friends. But there were at least four times when it was JUST US.

So, I politely wrote him back, told him I was glad that I was so memorable, outlined in great detail the instances we hung out and thought that was the end of it.

Until he wrote back.

And asked me to call him. (His exact message was: call me xxx-xxx-xxxx.)

I didn't. (Eff you. If you can't even remember me, why would I bother?)

So then he wrote back again a couple of days later asking me to please call him because this has been driving him crazy and he just wants to make sure I was right. (His exact words, BTW.)

Um, I was definitely right, Amnesia Guy. When I broke it off with you years ago. Eeeew.

P.S. In case you're wondering, I responded to that last message from him with a big fat eff you. (Actually, I didn't say eff you per se. But I did tell him that I had no interest in rehashing the times we hung out when he couldn't even remember who I was. After, of course, I described in detail what his living room looked like so he knew that I wasn't making shit up. Bitchy? Probably. Necessary? Definitely.)

Taking a boy break -- or am I?

I haven't written about a lot of the boys swirling about me these days. (The Teacher, The Teachalian, The Italian Stallion, The Mouse and The Banker all made appearances in some way during the holidays.) Because, to be honest, I needed a boy break.

The truth is... sometimes it is exhausting to be constantly thinking about my (lack of) love life. Sure, there are always randoms floating around (who'd have thunk that damn Banker would show up via random holiday texts -- THREE of them!), but I haven't really had a *real* date since The Lawyer. And we all know how that turned out.

So, I haven't been returning boys' calls.

I haven't been returning boys' emails.

I haven't been returning (some) boys' texts.

I just needed a break.

But, I think I am going to start '09 with a fresh perspective. Focus less on quantity and more on quality.

(Though, as Molly likes to remind me... it only takes one. So wouldn't my chances be better if I have more to choose from? Who knows.)

And here's fair warning: I may just need a couple more weeks of minimal boy interaction. Except, of course, for TMGB. Because he'll be back next week with his new weekly feature -- Man Mondays. (Which means I'll have to email with him in the meantime.)

(BTW, did you see his post this week? I effing loved it.)

Anyhow... what do you think? Should I continue with this self-imposed XY-ile (that's supposed to be a cutesy way to say "boy exile"), or should I surround myself with as many potentials as possible (figuring that at least someone might be worth dating?!?!)?

Time for a diet

Just got off the phone with a new potential, The Teacher. How did we meet, you ask? Well, we technically haven't. His sister is friends with my friend Aimee, and the two of them conspired to introduce us. (Plus, Aimee's got two kids to feed and I think she wants in on the finders' fee.)

What. A. Nice. Guy.

I mean, I guess anyone can fool you into thinking they're nice in the span of 20 minutes, but he just seemed genuinely nice. And not in the too nice sort of way either. (Unlike a guy I once went out with who literally said, "Wowee!" instead of swearing. Shit you not.)

Sounds like he's close with his family (a plus), has a job that he likes (a plus) and has a good sense of humor (a definite plus).

HOWEVER... I'm sure you're wondering why I titled this entry "time for a diet." As if I'm not self-conscious enough as it is about my body, The Teacher told me that he did an amateur body building competition a few months ago for the first time... and won. (Also weird: he sounds almost exactly like The Banker on the phone.)

(In his defense, he only brought up the body building thing because he was worried that they sent me a picture of him from the competition and he thought that would have been queer.)

Holy crap! I just ate fifty pounds of stuffing on Thanksgiving! I mean, I need to wear Spanx under my Spanx right now! I can't date a freaking body builder!

Side note: in true six degrees of separation form, The Teacher knows a kid that I went to high school with (who stalked me after the Cleveland Magazine singles article I was in a couple of years ago). They played baseball together for a little while in college. Is it just me, or is Cleveland shrinking?

Anyhow, the conversation ended without discussion of a specific meeting day/time, but with the intention to talk again soon.

Guess that gives me some time to wrap myself in Saran Wrap and garbage bags and jump on a treadmill.

These guys are all turkeys

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

I know I haven't written about many boy interactions lately because... well... there haven't been a lot to talk about.

(That's sort of a lie. I was preoccupied with Molly's wedding and some other stuff going on.)

But, in the case that you are looking for some easy reading to lull you into your Turkey Day tryptophan nap, here's a quick rundown of some of the lame (read: sad, boring and going nowhere) boy encounters I've had over the past couple of weeks:

• The Cop Facebook friended me. I accepted the request, but didn't do anything after that. Then I got a FB message from him a few days later that said, "You should call me sometime. Or text." Oh, yes, Cop. That has the makings of the start of an awesome new relationship.


• The Lawyer apparently did not get the hint after I ditched out on the prom. He called last week, but I was in Target (where my phone never works) so I missed the call. Then I got wrapped up in Molly's wedding stuff and never called him back. (Not that I really wanted to anyhow... if it were someone I really liked, I think I would have found the time to call.) THEN, I got an email from him earlier this week just checking in. UGH.


• I got cornered by The Chef at Molly's rehearsal dinner, but I think he's relatively harmless at this point. However, he did block my path to the bathroom -- literally -- then walked me to the bathroom (and seemingly almost came in!).


• The Banker just sent a text that said, "Happy Thanksgiving! Gobble gobble!!!" WTF? I haven't talked to him since the '60s. Plus, I'm fairly certain this was one of those mass texts that he probs sent to every girl in his phone. I think he's just looking for someone to stuff this Thanksgiving, if you know what I mean. Sorry, Banker.

Thankfully, there are a couple of new prospects on the horizon (most of whom I haven't even talked to yet -- they are finders' fee potentials). Let's hope they aren't turkeys too.

Note: one of the new potentials is a referral from a girl who once fixed up my friend Michele with a guy who wore jorts (jean shorts), pump tennis shoes and a concert tee on their first (and only) date. So, if nothing else, this should make for some good blog reading if it doesn't work out. Stay tuned!

Praying for my love life... literally

My parents have arrived home safe and sound after their Mediterranean adventure (so jeal!), and I just caught up with them to get a debrief about some of their favorite parts of the trip. They visited our extended family in Milan for a few days, then headed to other parts of Italy, Greece and Croatia on a cruise.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised that my dad was very excited to tell me about a church they visited in Italy devoted to St. Nicholas. While you may know St. Nicholas as our modern-day Santa Claus, he's also apparently the patron saint of single women. Who knew?

Dad informed me that there was a box in the church where single women could place the name of someone they hoped to land as their future husband. Of course, dear old dad wrote down something about me and put it in the box.

I'm imagining it went something like this:

Dear Saint Nicholas --

Please bring my daughter a Christmas present in the form of a tall, dark and handsome man. Who has a good job. And can finally take her off my hands.

Thanks,
Always a Bridesmaid's Dad

After I talked to my dad, I briefly chatted with my mom (poor thing -- she sounded exhausted!!) and she told me that they brought a little souvenir home for me. Wonder what his name is.

****UPDATE****UPDATE****UPDATE****

St. Nicholas works FAST! I literally hit "publish post" on this entry and got a text five minutes later from The Banker that just said "I miss talking about shows with ya." WTF? He was the one who stopped calling me (albeit after I not-so-nicely told him that he should give a girl a little notice if he had to cancel plans). Weird timing? Or saints at work? Hmmm... only time will tell.

Cashing out

Much like the stock market has done the past few days, The Banker has tanked. We were supposed to do something on Tuesday nite (we had decided that over the weekend), but didn't have specific plans. I finally got a text from him at almost 5pm on Tuesday saying that he just found out he had his kids that nite, and could we reschedule for Thursday instead.

A few things:

• I don't think I've ever mentioned the fact that he has two kids before (ages 9 and 4). Truth is, I wasn't 100% sure how I felt about it, and I was trying to figure it out before sharing it with the world (and getting feedback/comments from all of you).


• The text in no way was apologetic. Nothing like, "I am so sorry to do this, but can we reschedule? Blah blah blah." Nope. Just, "Hey, I have the kids tonite. Can we reschedule?"


• The text arrived at NEARLY 5PM. I understand things coming up at the last minute, but I have GOT to believe he knew he was getting his kids sooner than that.

And you know what? I was sort of over it right then and there. I let him know very matter-of-factly (read: sort of bitchy) that I understood his responsibilities lie with his kids, but that he should have let me know way before 5pm that he needed to cancel. I don't think he liked that very much... have heard from him VERY little since then.

So, I think I might have cashed out on The Banker. Too much baggage. He got drunk both times I saw him in person. And I think he might actually be The Unemployed Banker right now based on a few Facebook wall posts I saw (which he never mentioned anything about to me). I have dated an unemployed guy before (who did not have two kids to boot), and I am not really interested in doing that again.

On another note, I have a date next Wednesday with The Lawyer that I met after my friend Molly's bachelorette party last weekend (the one whose card I had in my clutch, but wasn't sure who it was until I sober Facebooked him). He called yesterday, we chatted for about five minutes (while two guys in my office were borderline stalking me b/c we had to talk about a big work project), and we made plans to get together next week.

This lawyer is not to be confused with The Attorney (the guy who my father wants to fix me up with who my friends and I know through a six degrees connection). However, my dad did email me The Attorney's contact info before he and my mom left for their Mediterranean cruise. I'm sure he's hoping we'll be engaged by the time they come home.

So prepare yourselves, friends. I've got two potential lawyers/attorneys in the hopper... AND we'll be without comments from blogmom for 2.5 weeks! I'm not sure what's worse...

Just another random Monday... whoooaaaa...

Wow, what a very random boy nite.

First, I talked to The Banker. That in and of itself wasn't weird. What WAS weird is that he was going out tonite with a guy that I randomly met a couple of years ago and went out with a few times. Turns out they're friends from growing up. More six degrees of separation!!! (Side note: I have a tentative date set with him tomorrow nite.)

Then I got some texts from The Cop (who I have not talked to nor texted since that random nite when I met him and he kept disappearing):

• What up
• U out?
• [random picture of himself drinking a beer]
• [same random picture of himself drinking a beer]

And to top off the randomness of tonite, I then got a text from The San Diego Marine (who I still contend is probably the hottest guy I have ever made out with -- sorry if that's TMI, blogmom).

Anyhow, he's on vacation with a friend (who I also met when I was in SD), and they were talking about me (interesting, considering I haven't emailed, talked or texted him in months) and he wanted to send me a text (and warn me to expect a drunk dial soon).

That marine. Mmmmm. He really is the kind of guy I want to find. In addition to being disgustingly hot, he's funny (in a goofy/silly kind of way), smart and sweet. He's lucky he doesn't live in Cleveland because I'm pretty sure I'd change up "Semper Fi" to something inappropriate like "Grab my thigh."

Blackout bachelorette bash

Well, my blog friends, Molly's bachelorette bash was a success. The guest of honor had a great time, the food and drink was aplenty and, of course, there are crazy boy stories coming out the back end of the party.

Most notably, apparently I befriended The Chef (not to be confused with The Pocket-Sized Chef) at the restaurant we were at. I also *may* have told him that he should be my date for Molly's wedding (which was told to me this morning; I don't remember this conversation AT ALL).

What I do remember is going through my clutch this morning to find a handwritten piece of paper with all of The Chef's contact info on it, along with the business card of an attorney that I don't even remember meeting.

Note to self: find a new drink of choice. I always knew gin and tonics had the potential of making me mean, but now I know they also make me completely black out.

Anyhow, apparently after chatting with The Chef for some time, he gave me all of his contact info (perhaps b/c he thought we were going to the wedding together -- maybe we are?!?!?). And I logged onto Facebook today to find a friend request from him. I mean, I don't remember anything we talked about. Who knew I could still be charming when I am blackout drunk?

In other news, I did meet up with The Banker on Friday nite for a bit. Met him for a few drinks after he had a dinner party (which I later found out was for his cousin -- which meant his family was still at the restaurant when we met up).

We had fun and laughed a ton, though he did get pretty drunk by the end of the nite (then again, who am I to talk after my performance last nite?). I was slightly weirded out that he called me "babe" when he called to make sure I got home OK, but I'm going to chalk it up to the drinking.

Let's hope The Chef is as forgiving and realizes our talk about him being my wedding date should be chalked up to the Tanqueray. Regardless, rehearsal dinner is sure to bring some additional stories, since it's at the same restaurant we were at last nite.

The phrase of this weekend became "I didn't think this through" (courtesy of our friend, Michele). Man, truer words were never spoken.

P.S. Thanks for giving us an excuse to party, Molls. Hope you had a blast at your final fling before the ring!

Showers, bachelorette parties and bedazzlers -- oh my!

I've got a big bridesmaid duty weekend ahead of me. On Saturday, we're doubling our friend Molly's pleasure, with both her bridal shower and bachelorette party. It might sound crazy to cram so much into one day, but it's great for our out-of-town friends (a couple of whom are bridesmaids too) and it actually ends up being a really fun day totally devoted to the bride-to-be (we recently did the same thing for our friend Carrie too).

My duties for the shower are under control. I was in charge of the invitations, which I was mildly obsessed with. (Side note: I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE this site for super cute custom-printed invitations: http://www.polkadotdesign.com/). And I'll handle the paper plate bow bouquet assignment at the shower (which I actually like to do anyhow). That means I'll also be sitting close enough to the guest of honor to tell her if she's taking too long to open presents. (Honesty disclaimer: it drives me nuts when brides open every single box to show what each plate, cup, towel, potholder, etc. look like.)

My duties for the bachelorette party? Hire the stripper, blow up the giant inflatable penises and bedazzle a Life Savers t-shirt that says, "Suck for a Buck." LOL. Just kidding. Unfortunately for you, the bride reads this blog religiously, so you'll have to wait until Monday for an update about what really went down (that's what she said).

OK, I'm off to wrap presents now for this weekend. (Prob won't have time tomorrow since I've got a mani right after work, then I'm supposed to meet The Banker at some point.)

P.S. This post serves as this week's "weekend preview," since I doubt I will be functional AT ALL on Sunday following Saturday's festivities. Which will be a very good thing.

Close call!!!

I was talking to The Banker tonite and accidentally almost called him The Banker to his face (errr, ear). Yikes! I have to be more careful.

Update: we are probably meeting out on Friday after he goes to his cousin's surprise birthday dinner. I have a mani appointment at 6:45 on Friday (in prep for this weekend's parties), so I hope he doesn't want to go bowling or do yardwork later that nite.

Six degrees of separation (or less)

I have long said that my dating life is like six degrees of separation, meaning that the guys I date (or am supposed to get fixed up with) typically know and/or date(d) one of my friends.

I'm sure I'll cover this in future posts, since it happens all the time. I'm actually in a six degrees of separation wedding in a couple of months, which will be a first for me.

For this post, I'll stick with my friend Jenn. My group of girlfriends has been friends with Jenn's fiancee Brian for years. When we met her (after hearing LOTS about her), we instantly liked her and felt like she'd always been part of our group of friends. We even used to tell Brian that we would take friend custody of Jenn and dump him if they ever broke up.

Anywho... Jenn and I were emailing the other day and discovered the she went on a couple of dates with The Groundhog a few years ago. Her take on him is the same as mine: very cute guy who is fun to talk to on the phone, but has a stalkerish screw loose in the dating department. I'm actually being nice when I put it that way. I think Jenn's exact words were, "Stay away!"

Fast forward... I was on the phone with The Banker this weekend, and he reminded me where he grew up (which is where Jenn grew up), so I asked if he knew her and/or her family. He got VERY excited because he, indeed, knows the family. And dated Jenn in high school.

I couldn't help but be amused and sent Jenn an email that just said, "The Banker is [name]! Why do I get all of your sloppy seconds?!?" I was glad to hear that she thinks he is a very nice guy -- and voted for him in this week's poll question before she even knew who he was. Jenn and I are getting together for happy hour this week, so I'm sure I'll get more deets then.

Six degrees side note: Jenn and I are having drinks with Sarah, the girl who fixed me up with The Coach. Years ago, Sarah tried to fix me up with Brian (Jenn's now-fiancee), but I was already friends with him (which Sarah didn't know). She later fixed up Brian and Jenn, and the rest is history!

My dirty little secret

I have a secret that I try to keep from new boys in my life for as long as possible. I... take... Jazzercise. (SHHHH!!!!)

Now before you get all judgey on me, take a class. I thought it was queer when my sister first suggested it too. But then I took a class that kicked my ass (I swore I tasted blood in my mouth), and I was a believer. It's more of an aerobics/kick boxing/pilates/strength training workout. And we even work out to Justin Timberlake!

BUT... let's be honest, Jazzercise needs some rebranding. Everyone still thinks of the 80's workout with leotards, braided headbands and women yelling WOOO!!! when they hear the word "Jazzercise." So I'm not about to tell a potential boy toy that I take Jazzercise. What do I say instead? "Cardio class."

I mention this because The Banker was talking about running when we were on the phone last nite, then proceeded to ask where I work out. I couldn't even tell him the location because I don't take the class at a community center or somewhere that could sort of pass the queerness test. No, not me. I take class at -- you guessed it -- an honest-to-goodness Jazzercise center.

So, dear readers, let's keep this our little secret for now. And please help me come up with some good responses for the next time a cute boy asks me where I work out!

P.S. Talking about Jazzercise reminds me of my favorite joke. Now that my arms are somewhat toned from class, I like to ask a crowd if anyone in the room is a veterinarian. When everyone answers no, I flex my arm and say, "Cuz my pythons are SICK." LOL. I love that joke.

A random nite in the life of my cell phone

5:42 -- text from The Banker telling me to have fun at my work event (said work event caused me to miss most of the following texts/calls)

6:58 -- missed call from The Phoenix Brother

7:45 -- text from The Cop asking if I was going to his friend's pig roast on Saturday (I'm not)

8:20 -- text from The Banker

9:35 -- missed call from The Groundhog (he did not leave a vm, and I did not call him back)

10:13 -- returned a call to The Banker (talked for about half an hour)

10:49 -- returned a call to The Phoenix Brother (talked for about 10 minutes about his trip to Cleveland this weekend)

To be honest, there were also some messages and missed calls from some of my girlfriends too... but that's not really why we're all here, is it? ;) Needless to say, my phone definitely needed a full charge last nite. Poor little Goldie.

Midnite texter

I woke up this morning to a text from The Coach that was very bizarre in content and timing. As background, he has still been texting. He actually even tried to call over the weekend, but I missed the call. He left no vm. Then I got a TEXT (of course) saying that he tried to leave a vm but wasn't sure it went through. Suspicious.

Anyhow, he tried to call again last nite, but I again missed the call. I never got around to calling him back because I talked to my friend Molly and The Banker (I know, right? he called again!), then crashed on the couch.

Long story short... I woke up this morning to this text (sent at 2:55 am -- the time he gets up for work):

Im sorry it didnt work out 4 u. Ur very attractive & seemed 2b alot of fun 2 b with! Good luck 2 u!

Yikes. Now I feel badly and think I should (maybe?) respond. Not necessarily because I want to go out with him again. More because I don't want him to think I'm a huge B. and I'm sure he really is a very nice guy.

Or am I just being silly?

You have the right to remain... single!

After a weekend full of "please come meet me to watch the Browns game" texts, my cousin Katy and I decided to grab dinner, then go meet The Cop at a local bar. What a bust. He was cute enough, but he must have walked away from our group three different times -- for at least 20 to 30 minutes a pop! No thanks. The kicker was when he simply disappeared at the end of the nite. Sir, you're under arrest for being a douchebag. You have the right to remain single. (Sorry, Katy -- no finders' fee for you!)

On a brighter note, The Banker called when I got home and we talked for about an hour. He was very apologetic about his drunken episode on Friday nite and was actually quite fun to chat with. He's definitely head and shoulders above The Cop after tonite.

But the best part of today was having a girl date with my cousin Katy. We always have a lot of fun and laughs when we hang out, and it reminded me that sometimes the best dates are the ones that don't involve any Y chromosomes.

September to remember

It's been an interesting weekend since Friday nite. The Banker and The Cop have both been texting me a TON, and The Phoenix Brother keeps calling too (he's going to be in town next weekend and wants to hang out). The Banker has even picked up the phone to -- gasp!! -- call. What a novelty.

Hmmm... is there something in the air? I smell Fall nesting.

My friend Carrie is convinced that September is the month o' boys (well, not for her anymore -- she just got married). She theorizes that oldies climb out of the woodwork like crazy and newbies show up in throngs. She says they're all starting to think about the cold Fall/Winter months and want a little snuggle bunny to share them with. And she's got a Master's in psychology, so that must mean she knows what she's talking about. ;)

Guess we have another week or so to find out...

World's longest happy hour

Last time I checked, you weren't supposed to get home from "happy hour" at 3am. But I did. Oops.

Lucky for you, that long nite led to many interesting boy stories:

1. The Mouse - ran into him at the happy hour I went to with my sister. He is friends with my brother-in-law, and we actually casually dated for several months (though I never called him my BF). He is funny and VERY cute (as in, blogmom has a not-so-secret crush on him), but I think we're better off as just friends. Which is good, since I see him ALL the time now b/c he's sort of like my bro-in-law's little brother. (There is another part of this story involving a pocket-sized chef who resembles Chris Kattan, but I'll save that for another post.)


2. The Cop - while at the first happy hour, I ran into my friend Amy from work. We decided to meet my cousin Katy at another bar, where Katy proceeded to tell me about a guy she thinks would help her win the finders' fee challenge. She sent him my number while we were there, and we texted a bit last nite. He wants to try to meet up on Sunday to watch the Browns game.


3. The Banker - Katy and her friends decided to hit up another bar down the street, so Amy and I left for a bar closer to our neck of the woods. Went to a cute little place in Westlake (where we accidentally ended up crashing the Bay H.S. class of '73 reunion. Ooops). So, we headed further into the bar, where I met The Banker. Super cute, seemed to have a good job, but was actually pretty drunk so I really don't have a good feel for what he'd be like sober. But, he did text last nite to make sure I got home OK and sent a little note this morning to tell me he had fun last nite. Hmmm...
   

On tap for tonite: going out for my friend Carrie's bday in the W. 25th area. The Banker said he might be around there tonite too. Interesting...

*** UPDATE *** I posted this at noonish on Saturday, so I'm not sure why it's showing Friday. Weird.