Why Do I Attract Stalkers?

DJ has quickly become another one of my stalkers.  One of the men who just lacks the ability to let go. For some reason, I seem to attract nut cases.  At first I worried that "like attracts like," "birds of a feather flock together," and the other sayings that would mean that I'm crazy as well, but I'm chocking it up to bad taste in men and a great time in bed (ha, I'm kidding!  The first nut case barely even got into my pants!).  Really, it's because I continue to engage these men after they've gone off the deep end.  I need to ignore them better.  Regardless, it makes for some funny stories.

Cry Baby
My first stalker was an old high school boyfriend, Cry Baby.  In the summer after 10th grade I went away for a month on a trip to Israel and Europe.  I came back with a new perspective on life, a desire to date Jewish boys and promptly dumped him.  Cry Baby's teenaged heart was crushed and (since it was back in the pre-cell phone days) he would incessantly call my parent's house in an effort to get me to back.  He told me he wanted to hurt me and made some terroristic threats on the country where I had just visited.  One day, Cry Baby called my parents house and my brother, who is 8 years older than me and at 5'8" was significantly larger than my pint-sized former paramour, picked up the phone.  Cry Baby was crying (hence the nickname)and begged my brother (through snot rockets and hiccups) to let him speak to me.  I picked up the phone at the same time I heard my brother boom, "Stop crying you f*cking pussy!  You think I'm going to let you speak to my sister after the pathetic crap you just spewed out?!  If you bother her again, I will kill you, do you understand?!"  Have I mentioned how awesome my brother is?

ESPN
I didn't deal with another stalker until years later.  ESPN was the man I dated immediately before I met my ex-husband, who, as you might guess, worked at ESPN.  I had broken up with him but he was determined to win me back.  He spent a month calling and texting me, emailing my friends to ask them to talk to me and even told me he would have proposed if he had had a ring.  It got so bad that a law school friend who used to work for the FBI, offered to get me a gun for protection.  Thankfully, I was living over an hour away and didn't feel the need for a firearm.   ESPN finally stopped harassing me when I got engaged to my ex-husband, a mere 3 and a half months after our breakup (I know, I know...)

Ex-Husband
My ex-husband was another one who just couldn't let go.  This likely had more to do with the fact that I sprung our divorce on him like it was a surprise trip to Disney World than anything.  That, and the fact that we were married and had vowed to spend our lives together, he presumably loved me very much.  But since actions speak louder than words, we'll go with the surprise factor for the reason he couldn't let go.  I won't divulge too much (you know, because I'm nice and/or because I've blocked out the entire messy divorce process from my memory) but he actually had the nerve to ask my parents (in the courthouse, immediately before our divorce hearing) if they could get me to reconsider my decision.  Dude, let it go.

Teacher
Teacher was someone I dated for a few weeks in October.  He was a single dad of 2 daughters and a high school English teacher. I told him I wasn't ready for anything serious, as I was just starting to date after my divorce.  I'm very into baking and arts and crafts and had given him some good ideas about things to do with his girls.  I told him that I was baking a cake in the shape of a turkey for Thanksgiving because my nephew loves it (I'm not going to lie, I do too, it's a freaking awesome cake mould!).  Then he tells me how excited he was that we would be spending Thanksgiving together--me, him and his kids.  Umm, WTF?!  I quickly ended things after I realized that he wanted an instant wife, step mom and mother (for himself) all in one.  He freaked out and sent me the most grammatically correct scathing emails that I was overwhelmingly impressed and scared at the same time.  I ended up filtering his emails, threatening a restraining order and commenting that a restraining order might affect both his teaching job and his custody situation.  He emailed me a few months after to apologize and ask to grab some coffee.  Umm, no.


BR
I wrote about BR here and here and a few other places that I'm too lazy to link to.  He begged for a second chance and I gave it to him even though I wasn't really feeling a connection.  Fast forward and I realized he was relationship stupid and I was attracted enough to him to fix it.  He didn't go off the deep end, per se, but he wrote me email novellas as to why we would be good together, how he could change, how my feelings weren't justified, etc.  He finally stopped when I ignored enough of these emails and deleted him off Facebook.  Just last month though, he sent me a Facebook message congratulating me on the Bar Exam and making a comment on how we should get back together.  No thanks.


DJ
I worried that DJ would also go off the deep end, as he seem unsatisfied with how I broke things off.  He seemed like a very even keeled man though so I sent him a final email explaining some things I hadn't previously mentioned and how they were non-negotiable for me.  I stated that this would be the last of the discussion and wished him luck.  Surprisingly, it was not the end of the discussion for him.

He told me that he respected my decisions but wanted to argue his way and change my mind.  Umm, WTF?!  That's no where near respecting my decision.  I continued to ignore his emails and text messages and hoped it would go away...until yesterday.  I was out with friends when I received a call from a florist.  My heart sank.  I knew that DJ had sent me flowers.  For a man who claims to have paid attention to me, he must have zoned out on the conversation in which I told him, "I do NOT like flowers.  They shed and die and smell.  I especially dislike roses.  I think they're an overpriced waste of money.  Please never get me flowers."  Of course, he got me flowers, lots of them, with roses.  The arrangement was topped with a pleading note and about a zillion "xoxo's" before his name.

"One drink is all I ask :) xoxoxo :insert name here:"

That wasn't the end of it though.  A few hours after the call from the florist, DJ called, asking about the flowers.  I sent the call to voicemail and I thanked him via text. I told him there was nothing to discuss and wished him luck.  He called again and was sent to voicemail.  Dude, get the message already!  

He then proceeded to berate me via text message and email about how I'm a terrible evil person and how he at least deserves an explanation as to why we can't live happily ever after together.  "I at least deserve to sit down with you for a drink," he texted.  My response, "The only thing you deserve at this point is a padded room and a restraining order.  Leave me alone!"

Happy Birthday to Me

Today is my birthday.  I'm not the biggest of birthday celebrators but this year is different.  It's different because unlike last year, I'm happy.  Last year my birthday fell a month, to the day, of when I filed for divorce.  I had gone through the period of elation that follows when you leave a bad relationship and went from telling myself "This isn't my problem anymore--woohoo!" to asking myself, "What the hell am I supposed to do now?"

Emotionally bruised and battered (as divorce tends to bring out the worst in people) I decided to cancel my birthday.  My parents protested, telling me not to "let him win" and refused to let me wallow.  But it didn't matter.  I was miserable.  For every birthday wish I received, I thanked them and asked them to hold the wishes for next year, when I would resume celebrating.  To make matters worse, I could not escape my soon-to-be-ex's repeated attempts to contact me, presumably to wish me a happy birthday, but succeeding in evoking only crying fits of rage.  Despite my attempts at cancellation, I went out for a wonderful birthday dinner with my parents followed by a couple drinks bottles of wine with a friend.  I ended the night drunk and crying and telling my parents details of the past year and a half that they had never imagined possible.

This year is different.  I am independent and happy and have the world at my feet.  While I'm still not keen on getting closer to 30 (today is my 28th birthday), I could not wish for more at this moment in life.  I spent last weekend with my parents, brother, sister-in-law and nephew in New York City followed by dinner at our favorite restaurant, Victor's Cafe to celebrate mine and my sister-in-law's birthdays (hers was June 29th).  I'm very lucky to have such a wonderful and supportive family.  I cannot express the gratitude I have for the support and love they've given me during my life, especially within the past year.  Knowing that no matter what happens, we're always there for each other, is priceless.  When we're together, the love in the room is palpable and the laughter is plentiful.

Birthday dinner with family

I have amazing friends.  The kind of friends who have their babies FaceTime at 9am me to squeal while they sing me "Happy Birthday" and send me gag and housewarming gifts that show they're always thinking of me.  Friends who, despite working 80 hour weeks at their dreaded law firms during a holiday week, still manage to email me birthday wishes.  Friends who insist on me coming down to the Jersey shore to fist pump with the guidos.  Friends who will likely send me some dick pics just to make me laugh (I'm counting on you BK!).   A friend who I care for in a more romantic way who, despite only knowing me for a short time, planned an entire adventure day because he knows that I'd rather have a fun memory than an expensive gift.

Hilarious gag gift

My best friend knows me well

I have my health.  I'm very blessed to be healthy in both mind and body.  I'm in great shape, despite the pound I gained from sangria and tostones at Victor's Cafe and cheesesteaks and ice cream at Six Flags and the half pound I'll likely gain this weekend from cheesecake and beer!  I'm happier than I've ever been and I feel content (aside from the fact that I can't fix this font--stupid blog formatting issues!).  In 28 years, I've accomplished many things, had both good and bad experiences and have so much to look forward to.  I'm focusing on the now, instead of planning ahead, and right now, things are amazing for me.  

Save Me!: Excuses for Leaving a Date Early

In the past week I've had two frantic text message conversations with my friend from Dating Without a Net.  Being one of those women who has a penchant for dating creepy men (don't be offended, you know it's true), she sometimes finds herself on dates that would make the most level-headed woman attempt to stab herself with a fork as a means of escape.  I've decided to compile a list of excuses for getting out of dates, in hopes that my fellow blogging friend, and my other dating friends out there, may no longer have to suffer through a terrible date.

We've all seen the episode from Sex and the City where one of the women (Charlotte?) gets out of a bad date by having another one of the women call her to say that "Something bad happened". While this is a fine idea, it leaves too much room for error for me to be satisfied.  What if your friend forgets to call?  What if you're a terrible actor/actress? What if your date asks follow-up questions?  What if your date offers to help?  There are phone apps like Bad Date Rescue that leave less room for human error, but that requires you to either keep your phone on the table (which is pretty rude) or to hear it ringing from your purse in a bar or restaurant (unlikely).

In my opinion, the best way to use an excuse to end a date is to come up with the excuse before the date goes sour.  If possible, these excuses should worked into the first few minutes of the date when you realize there's no chemistry.  By working an excuse into conversation early, it seem more legitimate than if you spring it on them at the last minute (planning is important) and you don't have to stress over coming up with an excuse while you're pretending to listen to your date's awful conversation.  Also, if you decide that you don't want to ditch the date (perhaps you were a little too judgmental about his choice of footwear and he seems like really a great man), you can use your aforementioned excuse as a means of showing them that you're interested. "You know, I could stay for an extra drink, my overweight dog isn't going to starve to death!" 

However, some of these excuses, should only be used when you are sure you never want to see your date again, since using the words "explosive diarrhea" (#2, #3 or #5) and flipping out on them (#10) will convince them that you're crazy.

EXCUSES FOR LEAVING A DATE EARLY

1. Volunteer commitment--Tell your date that you have a volunteer commitment that you need to attend.  If you don't volunteer, you should.  Not only is it a nice thing to do, but you'll have an excuse to get out of bad dates.  Soup kitchens, women's shelters, youth centers and animal shelters are usually looking for volunteers.
2. Not feeling well--You might not want to go as far as my mother suggested and tell him you just got your period or have explosive diarrhea (or maybe you do), but mentioning that you have been feeling under the weather is the perfect out.  It shows that you're a martyr and were willing to meet him while feeling like crap.  This excuse will work best of someone who is a germaphobe--cough in their direction or ask them to see if your throat is red to send them running. 
3. You're a parent--This is the best excuse in the book.  Kids offer a multitude of excuses--you have to get home for the babysitter, your kid is sick with explosive diarrhea, you need to tuck them in and kiss their adorable forehead goodnight, etc. Be creative, people without kids won't get it and people with kids will pretend that they're a good parent too and understand your plight.
4. Homework--The perfect excuse for a student.  The catch here is when your date says something about the fact that you already imbibed 2 beers.  The appropriate response here (since you're not interested in them anyway) is a smug guffaw followed by saying, "Pfft, puh-lease, I do everything better after 2 beers!" and stagger off.
5. You have a pet--Similar to #3, being a pet parent is a good excuse to leave a date early.  Anywhere you can insert the words "explosive diarrhea" will make it easy to leave without protest...unless you're dating a vet, doctor or someone with a scat fetish.
6. Early morning--Whether it's an early meeting you have a prepare for or a 6am spinning class, having to be up at the ass-crack of dawn is a tried and true excuse for leaving a date.  This will also weed out the whiners, who will pipe up with, "Nooo, stay for just one more driiiink. Come onnn, it's soooo earlyyyy!"
7. Late errand--Use store closing times as a good excuse for needing to leave a date early.  Be sure that you pick a provision that isn't sold at 7-11's or other 24 hour stores though.  Good examples of things you need at a specialty store include: portfolio pockets (for that fictional early meeting in #6), grain free pet food (for your hungry dog in #5), an obnoxiously specific type of pen (for your homework in #4), soy formula (for your sick and lactose intolerant child in #3), a menstrual cup from the crunchy hippie section of Whole Foods (for your period in #2) or PlayDoh (for the children you volunteer with in #1).
8. Be on call--It's always a good idea to tell dates that you're busy with work.  If you like them, it shows that you are ambitious and can multitask.  If you don't like them, it's a good excuse to leave a date. Mention to your date that you're expecting an email from work.  Be smart though, do the math and pick a country whose working hours will fall within your date time (think: Asian countries and states in the Pacific Standard Time).
9. You're on a diet--Tell your date you're on a diet and you can't drink or eat anymore because you've gone over your allotted calories for the day.  Bonus points if you break our your iPhone, log into My Fitness Pal and show them exactly what you've eaten.
10. Turn them into a jerk--This is especially easy if the person is actually a jerk or a borderline jerk.  Start taking offense to things they're saying until finally you can't take it any longer and storm off in a fit of rage.

Telling the truth, that you don't feel any chemistry or you're just not into them, is also an option, but let's face it, that's difficult to do in person and is more easily articulated in a text message the following day.  Hopefully one of these excuses will save you suffering an extra hour or two on future bad dates.  Do you have any other excuses to add to the list???

How to Spot a Douchebag

It's come to my attention that I have some new readers who I'd like to personally welcome to the blog.  ::waves hello, smile and tips cowboy hat::  I hope you enjoy reading my anonymous stories of hilarity and personal reflections that I have compiled since I decided that life was too short to be anything but happy.  

Since I started dating (and looking back at my dating past) I have had several discussions with my girlfriends about refining our "Douche-dar".  Similar to "Gay-dar", "Jew-dar" and other anecdotally supported yet unreliable radar systems, "Douche-dar" is the ability to spot a douchebag.  

Whereas "Gay-dar" may be tipped off by a jazz-handed, paisley-clad man drinking an apple martini and "Jew-dar" is heightened during conversations about camp, Long Island and Florence-study abroad programs, "Douche-dar" is more difficult to hone.  The difference between these radar systems is that while "Gay-dar" and "Jew-dar" make you aware of people who you want to date (as gays and Jews tend to look for similar individuals when looking for a partner), "Douche-dar" tips you off to those who you don't want to date.  The status of "douchebag" is something that is hidden, rather than placed on the forefront.  As such, it's difficult to spot a douchebag...unless you know what you're looking for.

Below I have compiled a list detailing how to spot a douchebag.  While this is not an exhaustive list, it is a list I have compiled based on personal experiences, or the experiences of my friends.  It is an unapologetically means of ruling out men who are, more than likely, douchebags.  There may be men who fall under some of these criteria who are not douchebags, or douchebags who do not fall anywhere on this list.  As I said, this list isn't exhaustive so please feel free to add to it in the comments section below. 

HOW TO SPOT A DOUCHEBAG

1. He goes by a nickname unrelated to his legal name-- Any man who thinks he's too cool for his real name is a douchebag.  Going by "JJ" instead of James Joseph or "Smitty" when his last name is Smith is ok, but giving himself a nickname like "The Situation" is a sure sign that he's a douchebag.
2. He insults people-- If everyone else is a loser; moron; douchebag or pussy, chances are he's the douchebag.
3. He drives a Hummer-- Unless he's driving it through a foreign desert and shooting at enemy combatants, he's a gas-guzzling, attention-whore who is likely overcompensating for a teeny weenie and, most certainly, a douchebag. 
4. His car is a color that's not available in stock-- Yellow, neon green, electric blue and anything with racing stripes is another sign of an overcompensating attention-whorish douchebag.
5. He drives a new muscle car-- If it's reminiscent of the old muscle cars but was manufactured within the past 20 years, he's a douchebag...unless he's 45 and going through a midlife crisis or over 60 and reliving his youth, neither of which you want to date anyway.
6. He high fives or chest bumps-- Unless you're at a sporting event or mocking people who high five and chest bump, high fives and chest bumps are signs of a douchebag. 
7. He has stupid stickers on his rear windshield-- Including but not limited to the Calvin and Hobbs kid peeing on something, a silhouette of a naked woman and the "shocker".  There's no reason for these stickers other than to publicly display your status as a douchebag.
   
   
   
8. He wears sunglasses at night-- Whether they're on his head or on his face, sunglasses at night are never acceptable and either mean that you're a douchebag or on drugs (and therefore, a douchebag).  The one obvious exception is Corey Hart.
9. He talks about taking naked pictures of his ex-girlfriend-- Bonus douche points if he mentions that he still has the pictures and pushes you to take naked pics for him. This recently happened to me during a third, and final, date with a douchebag.
10. He brags about "cheating the system"-- If he brags about not paying taxes; getting out of every ticket because of his "connections"; hiding his assets by putting them in another person's name or his new motorcycle that he bought instead of paying child support, he's a douchebag.
11. Edited: Douche Face-- After some comments, I realized that I forgot to include one more thing to look for: Douche Face.  Douche Face is the inexplicable look that a douchebag has.  It's not a face they're always wearing though so you have to look closely.  
    Douche Face usually comes out while douchebags are checking their reflection or dancing.  Since douchebags think they're God's gift to women, they can be found checking themselves out in a variety of reflective surfaces, including, but not limited to, the bathroom mirror; rear view mirror of their yellow Hummer or muscle car; window of a sunglass store or even in the reflection of the sunglasses they're wearing at night.  The face takes on a douchy look that's a combination of Blue Steel and Magnum (from Zoolander, of course) with a touch of hatred for all things non-douchy and a pinch of "Oh yeah, baby, you know you want this!"

Have you come across any douchebags lately? 

The Reason that Hindsight is Pretty Funny

Today it's been a year.  A year since I made a decision that would change my life.  A year from what I now joke was the best career move I ever could have made.  A year since I moved back in with my parents and once again heard, "This is the first day of the rest of your life".  Today marks a year since I found myself crying in my divorce attorney's office, check in hand and signing a petition for divorce.

If you don't know the story behind the demise of my marriage, ask someone who knows me in real life because I'm not one to air my dirty, discarded, aging laundry.  It doesn't matter though.  I can say that I married the wrong person, the man I married wasn't the man I dated or that things just didn't work out.  I'm sure if you ask my ex, he will tell you a different story.  But really, it just doesn't matter.

Today I find myself a much stronger woman than I ever imagined possible.  Emotionally, physically and spiritually.  Ask my friends and family who were too afraid to tell me about the shell of a person I had become when I was married and see if they can find that woman today.  I've changed from an unemployed, meek and indecisive person who walked on eggshells and never left the house to a successful, go-getting and independent woman.  Not to mention a whisky-drinking, cowboy-chasing hell of a time!  (It's a song, Mom, I'm not an alcoholic!)

I started this blog as a cathartic release when I realized through my divorce, that there are two options in life: you can laugh or you can cry.  Personally, I think laughing is much better.  Aside from toning your abs and keeping your mascara in check, laughing is way more fun than crying.  I wrote a story to this effect in my "About Me" section.  It's about the day I filed for divorce and I will include it here because it's my blog and I can do whatever I want (ha!) but also because it's the story of what happened a year ago today and is the impetus behind this blog.

My GTFO (Get the Eff Out) Story
Last year on June 6,  I left the divorce attorney's office with my mother and went back to my marital home to collect some belongings of mine.  Time was of the essence so I chose only the most important things and quickly packed up the essentials--a few suitcases of clothes, my passports and birth certificate, the boudoir pics I took for my ex (there was no way I was leaving nudie pics in the custody of a pissed off soon-to-be-ex-husband with access to the internet), the diaper cake I had made for my best friend's baby shower that next weekend (I had spent way too much time to leave that behind) and our two boxers.

We took off with suitcases in the trunk, the dogs in the backseat and my mother in the front.  My mother and I were in shock.  I had just filed for divorce, left my husband without him knowing and escaped to my parents house.  We were both scared and crying.  The stress in the car was palpable and the dogs sensed it.

As I was driving down the highway, the 60 pound boxer could take it no longer.  Shaking, he climbed into my mother's lap for comfort.  For those of you who don't know my mother, suffice it to say that she's not a dog person and a 60 lb boxer sitting in her lap while she was crying about the demise of my marriage and uncertainly about my future, was not exactly ideal.  She tried to get him off and to return to the back seat but he was having none of it.  She pushed and coaxed him, but just he sat there shaking and rooted to her lap.

Never one to be left out on the fun, the 30 pound boxer puppy (that the ex and I had gotten a couple months before) jumped up front as well.  She joined her doggy brother on my mother's lap and my mother, in between sobs, tried to now get both dogs off of her lap and into the back seat.  The bigger of the two dogs decided to reposition himself so his front paws were on the passenger floor, giving the puppy some more room on my mother's lap....and my mother a front row seat to his asshole.

In between hysterical sobs, I looked over to see my mother, buried under 90 pounds of dog, with the "brown starfish" of one pooch sticking up at her face and another pup alternating between licking the ass and her face.  I pulled over to the side of the road in an attempt to move the dogs but it was no use. We looked at each other and lost it.  Our tears turned to laughter.  It was the hysterical honking type of laughter where you sound like a seal and look like there's something wrong with you.  There was nothing else we could do but laugh.

I decided then that when things get tough, you can either dwell on the terrible or find something funny about it.  Rather than crying over my divorce with a face covered in snot and mascara I could laugh at my mother sitting with a dog butt in her face--sorry, Mom.  From that day on, I've always chosen the metaphorical dog butt.  I try to laugh, instead of cry, because to me, Hindsight is Pretty Funny.

Nashville Part 2: Play Something Country

I've been a bad blogger and I'm almost a month behind in posts.  In an effort to keep you entertained and to get back to blogging about my dating life, I will wrap up the remaining 3 days in Nashville with a few pictures and funny stories.  As I might have mentioned, I went to Nashville for a professional conference where I knew no one.  That's right, I decided to go to a conference alone, in a city I'd never been to, assuming that I'd meet some cool people and make some great networking connections...and that's just what I did!

The first thing I learned at my first ABA event was that lawyers love to party!  Seriously.  I had anticipated a few networking events, but nothing to the extent of what the ABA's Young Lawyers Division pulled off.  The first night there was a welcome reception at the Wild Horse Saloon, which was conveniently located next to the store where I bought my 4 pairs of boots earlier in the day.  This of course prompted me to tell everyone I met that night about the amazing sale and I was then branded the crazy girl from New Jersey who bought 4 pairs of boots in Nashville.  Which, I rationalized, is better than being known as just a crazy girl.

The Wild Horse Saloon was a blast and although I wasn't yet comfortable enough with a roomful of strangers to learn how to line dance, I did get dressed to the nines.  I knew going to the conference that the social events were "Country Snappy" attire so I packed to the best of my ability.  Knowing that I would be purchasing cowboy boots, I packed several short dresses that would be no less than freaking adorable paired with my new footwear and prayed that I wouldn't be the only one who took the dress code so seriously.  Thankfully I wasn't the only one dressed up and I found myself sucking back Jack and Cokes with lawyers from all over the country dressed in cowboy boots, cowboy hats, thick belts and plaid shirts.

I sat through some super-exciting Continuing Legal Education seminars on Friday and got done early enough to explore a bit more of Nashville.  I took a walk in my stilettos to check out the pedestrian bridge with a new friend I had made.

After a few pictures of Nashville and the beginning of a blister from my heels, I hightailed it back to the hotel to change into some more appropriate clothes for listening to live music (and cowboy chasing).  My new friend had opted to attend a diversity luncheon, which, regardless of the fact that diversity encompasses all races, I always feel strange going to, so I braved lower Broadway on my own.  I headed over to the legendary Tootsie's Orchid Lounge, where just about every country singer who is anybody has performed.

Inside Tootsie's between sets

I sidled up to the bar, ordered a beer and a pulled pork sandwich and listened to some young girl sing songs I'd never heard of.  Somewhat disappointed that this self-proclaimed country fanatic couldn't sing along, I sat back and soaked up the scene...and my Miller Lite.

It's Miller time

I was enjoying the music and had even made a new friend who was in town from Las Vegas when a fine piece of ass nice looking cowboy walked with his guitar.  I watched, and photographed, as he was setting up to sing because you never know how much US Weekly is going to pay for those "Before They Were Stars: Butt Picture Edition"...and because he had too nice of a tush not to capture.

I'm shameless, I know

The singer's name was Jake something or other.  He had a great voice, a good sense of humor, a nice ass and most importantly, he called me pretty.  This may or may not have had something to do with the fact that I was bearing crazy cleavage and had given him a big tip, but I sat there pretending that he was cursing himself for being married when he could have me on his arm.  Seriously, why are all country singers married?!

You can't see, but he's looking deep into my eyes

Jake the cutie cowboy finished his set and walked around for tips so I did what any sane woman would do.  I tipped him again (with a wink!), we took a picture together and I immediately uploaded to Facebook so my friends and family could appreciate the professional networking I was doing in Nashville.

Friday night was another night of "Country Snappy" attire but this time we had dinner and dancing at the Country Music Hall of Fame.  Naturally I would take a terrible selfie of my outfit in the mirror before dinner and then neglect to take a picture of Elvis' gold Cadillac in the Hall of Fame.  I know, I know.

The Hall of Fame was great!  Before dinner we were able to take a tour of the museum where I saw some amazing collections of costumes, cars and gold and platinum albums from the greatest country legends.  While enjoying our night of dancing, I found out that I passed the New Jersey Bar Exam which made the night even better!

Wall of Records

Saturday marked the end of the conference but not the end of my time in Nashville.  After saying goodbye to new friends and professional acquaintances that I had met, I headed out to brunch for some biscuits and gravy.  I had heard that biscuits and gravy were a southern delicacy and from the moment I had arrived I was salivating over the thought of tasting these treats.  I headed over to Puckett's and took a seat at the bar before helping myself to their buffet brunch.  I gorged myself on biscuits and gravy (to die for!), bacon, sausage and a bunch of other stuff that my mouth literally just watered thinking about (gross)...and a Bloody Mary to cure my hangover.

Hair of the dog...

By the time I finished brunch and got back to the hotel, it was time for the most exciting thing to happen--Greta (from Dating Without a Net) came to party with me!  The two of us had been sending each other excited text messages all week leading up to our meeting (because we're weirdos who met on the internet) so it was super awesome (and a relief) when we discovered that we were both normal (and totally awesome) people!  Then our other internet friend, Jessica, came to party with us and again she was normal and awesome--yay!  Greta's friend came up from Atlanta and the 4 of us hit up the town!

Just a sign, there was no soliciting, discreetly or not, done that night

So as not to incriminate anyone, the main highlights from our crazy night out include Greta kicking her shoe over a balcony at my hotel (causing me to pee in my pants--no joke, I was on the floor laughing and wetting myself), all 4 of us riding a mechanical bull (Greta and I were in skirts because we're classy like that) and a 2am trip to Waffle House where I wanted to smack everyone for being so damn friendly! We were definitely "those girls" at every bar but it was an awesome night in Nashville with great new friends and I can't wait to go back to Music City!

Nashville Part 1: These Boots Were Made For Dancing

It's taken me almost a month but I'm finally recovered enough from my trip to Nashville to write about it.  I went down to Nashville for an American Bar Association conference.  After a particularly heinous day at my former job, I received an email about the conference and jumped at the chance.  Between the country music, cowboys and warm weather this trip promised (and of course, hot topics in the law lectures) I booked a flight and hotel within minutes.

Before my flight to Nashville departed from LaGuardia airport, I had already made fast friends with two lawyers from Montreal.  After they told me that they were attending because of the social events and explained how last year's conference in Vegas went down, I knew it was going to be a good weekend! 

My first order of business upon arrival, aside from getting my official conference name tag and CLE calendar, was to find me some cowboy boots.  I asked the bellhop where I could buy some boots and he explained, in a slow southern drawl, that a store called Nashville Cowboy was having a "Buy 1, Get 2 Free" boot sale.  If his accent hadn't caused me to melt on the spot, his mention of a sale certainly would have.  I gathered my composure and scooted my booty over to the store.

I found myself in a leather scented mecca of all that is good and holy about cowboy boots.  They were red, brown, black, white; studded and stitched; stacked 3 deep, 10 feet high and 50 feet long.  At that point my life changed and all events would be divided into BCB (before cowboy boots) and ACB (after cowboy boots).  Ok, I'm kidding (sort of) but it was an overwhelming experience.  

Boots, boots and more boots!

I walked in knowing that I would leave with 3 pairs of cowboy boots.  Although I'm a lawyer (and infamously bad at math), I'm also a woman so I know that a Buy 1, Get 2 Free sale equals 3, yes 3, pairs of boots.  You're probably thinking, "Who needs 3 pairs of cowboy boots in New Jersey," in which case we must not have been properly introduced, (Hi, I'm Emily) and the answer is ME!  I need 3 pairs of cowboy boots in New Jersey!   My parents had already pledged to buy me a pair as an early birthday gift (July 6, thanks Mom and Dad!) so the fact that I could get 3 pairs for the price of one was too good to be true! 

Between my indecisiveness and "retartoes" (I have notoriously bad feet that have been operated on multiple times in the past 15 years) I knew this was going to be a daunting task.  The store was almost empty so I enlisted the help of a nice salesgirl to guide me through my boot selection.  She informed me that I needed at least one pair of brown and one pair of black boots, obviously.  I immediately fell in love with a dark brown pair with turquoise stitching that would match my straw and turquoise cowboy hat.  Pair one settled.

In an effort not to bore you with my thought process I will fast forward 2 hours, 1 packet of almonds, 6 mirror self-portraits and countless text messages to my fashionista friends and mother.  It turns out that the most difficult decision to make is deciding which pair of buttery soft goat-leather boots (yes, they're made from goat skin) should be the 3rd, as I had found 4 pairs of cute cowboy boots that didn't mess with my sensitive feet.

As I hemmed and hawed over whether to put back the caramel colored or the shorter boots, I heard a voice whisper, "The 4th pair is 40% off."  I turned to see an angel in tight jeans and cowboy boots.  Saving me from the despair of abandoning a pair of boots, I jumped up to hug him from my crumpled place on the worn wood floor (where I was likely having a conversation with the boots to decide who was coming home with me) but he was gone.  As I questioned whether this intese spiritual moment had been real, my angel reemerged, from the stock room no less.  He explained that he was the manager and would be pleased to give me 40% off the 4th pair seeing as I was having such difficulty deciding.

Caramel, Dark Brown with Turquoise, Black cut outs, short tan suede and dark brown leather (From L to R)

I choose to believe that he gave me a discount because of my overwhelming beauty and not my everlasting presence in the store or their existing sales policies.  Regardless, I left with 4 pairs of boots-- 3 as an early birthday present from my parents and one that I bought on my own.   After just 3 hours in Nashville, I was ready to take on the town and headed back to the hotel for a Welcome Reception that requested "snappy country" attire.  

  

No More Second Chances

It's been a while since I've posted and a TON has happened.  This of course left me overwhelmed on where to begin with my fabulously awesome life.  So, like any story, I'll pick up where I left off, even though that is extremely difficult to do because I have some great stories from my trip to NASHVILLE...but I will refrain.

The last time I posted a story I mentioned that I hadn't really been dating because I was enjoying spending time with JD, the guy I gave a second chance.  Things were going well and I was glad I had given him a another shot but of course, this blew up in my face.  I learned my lesson and I should have trusted my gut to begin with.

I realized that while I was having a good time with JD, something was off.  He was fun to be around but conversations with him seemed more like an interview than a normal conversation.  Chocking it up to the fact that he's a litigator, I spent date after date being interrogated by him before realizing I had given the man my entire life story without learning much in return (and not for want of trying).

[via]

 I won't fault someone for being over inquisitive if other things are going well.  In fact, I was happy to meet someone who cared enough to ask me so many questions...but there were other issues that came into play.  JD was a poor communicator who went hot and cold with phone calls and text messages.  I'm of the camp that if someone is interested, they will contact you.  So, after I stopped initiating text messages, days would go by where I wouldn't hear from him...but I would see him on Plenty of Fish.  He would text me days later to make plans, often including shirtless pictures to keep my interest.  Impressive physique aside, his lack of responsiveness was waning on me.

Even though we had the "I'm only dating you" conversation, I became wary when JD had his son for 3 weekends in a row.  He claimed that there was a mix up in his parenting schedule, but I'm no moron.  I don't know who he has dated before, but barely texting, browsing Plenty of Fish and keeping me as a Sunday night date just didn't add up.  We finally had plans for a Friday night until the last minute when he "realized he had his son".  Either he has the most fickle co-parenting arrangement on Earth or he was full of crap.  In my last text to him I surrendered.  I told him that he was too difficult to try to make plans and to text me if he wanted to see me again.  Crickets.

I wasn't broken hearted but I was annoyed that he had wasted my time...and calories, as we had some pretty greasy food together.  Maybe I felt the "douche" vibe on our first date and ignored it at the prospect of him proving me wrong.  From now I'll work harder at trusting my gut, which told me that JD was a bad idea.  I need a real man, you know, one who will call or text me, make weekend plans and not use baby wipes to clean his ass at the age of 38 (true story!).

The Man Who Wore Sweatpants

I've been slacking on the blogging lately.  There was a point where I was going out every night of the week but let's face it, dating can be exhausting...plus, when you find someone you sort of like, it's frowned upon to keep seeing other people (more on that in another post).  So, I curbed the whole going-out-on-countless-random-dates-from-Plenty-of-Freaks thing as of late.  I did manage to squeeze a couple dates in a few weeks ago that I never mentioned because they were so underwhelming that I didn't think to write about them until now.    

Remember Date #2, the Billy Baldwin look-alike from the night that I went out with two men?  You can refresh your recollection here.  Well, he asked me out on a second date and we agreed to meet for drinks on a Thursday night last month.  I wore my go-to outfit of jeans, a cute top, open front cardigan and heels.  It's the perfect outfit.  Cute but casual and doesn't look like I'm trying too hard.  Plus, cleavage can be added for effect and covered up with the cardigan if you feel too exposed.  I figured Date #2 would be wearing the male version of this outfit, i.e. jeans, a button down shirt or polo and casual dress shoes.  Ehh, wrong.  

I texted Date #2 from the car to ask if he was already at the restaurant, as there's nothing more uncomfortable to me than walking into an unfamiliar restaurant trying to determine if your date is in the building.  He texted back that he was seated by the bar and already had a drink.  I strode up to find him halfway through a Jack and Ginger wearing a track suit and sneakers.  I'm sorry, what?  Yes, you read that right.  He was wearing sweats.  

Call me conformist, but I believe there's a certain "uniform" that is proscribed through dating.  Unless you're doing some activity that necessitates different clothing, including but not limited to hiking; biking; fishing; shooting; going to the beach or having crazy sex, I expect you to dress like a civilized human being.  If not because you want to impress your potential partner, than because you have more self respect than to be unpresentable in public.  My date was wearing track pants, a t-shirt, a non-matching zip up jacket and sneakers.  I'm thankful that at least he wasn't wearing a matching tracksuit, as that attire is only acceptable for guidos and old Jewish men in Boca, but he was wearing a tracksuit nevertheless.  

He looked a bit like this guy, but with cooler shoes
[via]

Date #2 hugged me and told me I looked cute (obviously, dude, I'm not wearing sweatpants).  I told him he looked, "Umm, comfy," and he sheepishly explained that he had come straight from the gym.  Awesome.  So not only did you not shower after your workout, but you didn't have the decency to change your clothes either.  Nice one.  I would understand if he worked far from home or his office, but no, the dude works in the same building where his gym is which is in walking distance to his house!  Seriously?!  Not to mention that he wasn't the least bit sweaty of smelly which makes me question his gym-ethic in addition to his sense of decency.

Not to be a bitch, but I came to the date straight from volunteering where I helped snot-dripping children decorate with markers and glitter and I still managed to wash up and change into a pair of heels in my car.  The fact that this guy went from his office to the gym, drove past his house to get to the restaurant and couldn't throw on a pair of jeans floored me.  It's not like he arrived late either.  He was early.  If you recall, he had already consumed half of a Jack and Ginger before I arrived.  At least I know where his priorities are.  

The date went as well as a date involving sweatpants could go if there's no prospect of an elastic waistband coming in handy for some easy access.  He was nice enough but there was just no chemistry...and he was wearing freaking sweatpants!  

Dating Games (Part III): Game Over

You may recall that my friend Greta and I are playing a dating game.  I wrote about how we picked out dates for each other here and how we contacted our potential dates here.  


The Dating Games, as Greta and I have played them, have come to an end.  What we originally thought would be a fun idea turned out to be a bust...well, at least in my case.  I emailed and heard back from 2 out of the 3 men who Greta picked for me.  

[via]

SarcasticDude
SarcasticDude (who I wrote about here) turned out to be a douche before we even met.  It so happens that he's selfish as well.  After telling him never to contact me again, I got a text message from him the other day asking if I knew any tax attorneys.  Seriously, dude?!  You badger me for a full body picture, making it clear that you're entirely superficial (never mind that you're not even that cute) and then have the audacity to ask me for a professional reference?!  Apparently, "I wouldn't have asked you if it wasn't an emergency" is a way of downplaying that he disrespected my wishes never to hear from him again.  To top it off, his follow up email on Plenty of Fish a few days later that made me wonder if I have a potential stalker on my hands.  


BeachDude
Try as I did, BeachDude was just not dateable.  His one line emails and "lols" were enough to discount him.  After my date with Chief, I learned that if I have to pull teeth over text or email, there's a good chance it's going to be like that in person.  To top it off, he never so much as asked me to get together for a drink...not that his 8pm-4am work schedule would have allowed for us to meet anyway.  The emails with BeachDude tapered off and I haven't heard from him in a couple weeks.


Lesson Learned
While we thought it sounded like a fun idea at the game, having someone pick potential dates for me worked out worse than picking a date for myself.  Ironically, Greta did pick JD for me, but I had disqualified him because we had already gone out.  Considering I just had my 3rd (post second chance) date with him and things are going well, maybe the Dating Games aren't over after all...