Nice Gestures...

So yesterday at work, this 19-year old guy that likes me (yes, the same one who told me I have strong knees) came through the gym doors carrying a pile of plates.

"What's that?" I asked.

"I brought you something," he said, as he handed me over two saran-wrapped plates taped together to create a sort of container. The top plate had "Rach" written in black marker, with a smiley face beneath.
"Aw, what is this?" I asked, not knowing what to think.

"It's a Caesar salad. I made it. You said you like salads. And I know you don't eat cookies or anything so I thought you'd like it...you may want to refrigerate it for a little bit before you eat it."

I accepted it, flattered by the nice gesture and thought in remembering my love for salads. Hey, FREE FOOD is free food! But a part of me felt a little guilty about taking it. Poor little guy keeps on trying, even after I've given him hints that he's too young for me, and even tried to pawn him off on my younger sister for a bit.
Does accepting his salad gift and being nice back mean I'm leading him on? Where do we draw the line?
Many a time gifts are exchanged, where one person (most likely the receiver) is left wondering what the hell to do/think about it.

I remember one Valentine's Day freshman year when my roommate was casually dating this black guy. He came up to our apartment Valentine's Day morning with...wait for it...a black, hideous gorilla devil, holding a pitch fork. While she was flattered by receiving the gift, she didn't know whether to thank him, hug him or be a little freaked out.

Another friend of mine had just started dating this girl (a few years younger) for only a few months, and was given a wooden picture frame with these three words engraved in it: "Always, Forever, No Matter What" Ah. Always? Forever? Those two words are scary enough...but NO MATTER WHAT? Eek...

This same girl also got a life-sized bear given to her on Valentine's Day, that was freakishly huge. I walked into her room and actually screamed...that's how big it was. When I asked her what it was, the only words she could get out were, "Where the hell am I gonna store that thing?"

Oh, gifts. There was a time when they used to be exciting/romantic/surprising. Now they have a whole new set of issues that can come along with them and can be scary/confusing and leave you wondering, "WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?"
Take my friend Whit, for example. She had been talking to a guy for some time now, but he never really gave her any "I like you" signals, rarely flirted, and only kissed her once. She then called him out on it, and for V-Day, she received a bouquet of flowers with the simple note "Mixed signals...What mixed signals?" While she was flattered by the flowers, she's still left wondering what they really mean. After all, nothing has changed between the two of them, and they still email/chat on the phone once in a while, just as friends.

On the other hand, their are the daring, bold gestures when people take risks, like the first time to say "I Love You" (Will he/she say it back?) or asking someone to move in with you, or simply to go on a date.
I went for one of these bold gestures a few months ago, regarding a guy I was eyeing at the gym. He was cute. He was friendly, and I was feeling extra promiscuous one day. I did something I had never done before. I wrote my name and number on a post-it, and boldy went up with him, saying "Hey, I just wanted to give this to you before you leave." Well, he never called. But hey, at least I took a leap?

So yes, this blog indeed hopped around a bit, but my point is that nice gestures may just turn into things you thought were a good idea at the time, and actually in reality weren't...kind of like late-night drunk texts.

Guest Column: One Night Stands for Dummies

*written by one of my most humorous of friends...enjoy!

If I said the dating scene after college was tough that would be a gross understatement. It’s not that there’s a lack of guys, it is just that after graduation you begin to realize that the things you did in college are no longer okay. Now that you have a big girl job, an apartment, and set of bills that are all your responsibility, making “bad decisions” can no longer be justified. After 8 long months in the “real world” I slipped. I should have known by the way the night had started off, that my new outlook on life was about to be tainted.

It was a Saturday night and we were celebrating my roommates 23rd Birthday. Did I mention I love Birthday’s?! Anyways, I went to the liquor store and bought a liter of flavored Smirnoff. Not expensive vodka by any means but could be considered top shelf compared to the old days of drinking Burnettes, or what I like to refer to as rubbing alcohol, that rang in at the cash register for a whopping $14.95 a handle. We invited a few friends over to join us for some drinks before the bar. My roommate’s brother showed up with 2 guy friends. Right away I took a quick glance and checked out the merchandise. “Damn,” I remember thinking to myself, “I am not attracted to any of them…yet.”

It was as if some past version of myself invaded my body like a poltergeist. I was throwing back half shots or what we like to refer to as “halfsies” as if I was merely consuming water. After what must have been 25 halfsies, it was time to head to the bar. Three hours and four vodka sodas later I had successfully donned my liquor goggles. Closing time came, and like Cinderella, I had to leave the ball. But where was Prince Charming??

We returned to our apartment and a few seconds later there was a knock at the door. My roommate’s brother and his friends had returned for a night cap! But wait a minute…who was this hot guy with them?! I could have sworn both friends were somewhere between a 4 and a 4.5 on the hotness scale of 1-10, but this guy was definitely at least an 8! Little did I know at the time, this was actually the same guy that had come over earlier in the night, I just wasn’t the same person I was before. I closed by eyes, gave thanks to the liquor gods, and began plotting my fairy tale ending with Prince Charming for the night. A few eyelash bats and a sarcastic comment or two was all it took. Before I could even pop a mint to subdue my raunchy liquor breath, we were sucking face like two hormone-crazed teenagers. The time was approximately 2:30 a.m.

Cut to 4:30 a.m., a dark bedroom, and me with no pants on. The exact details surrounding the 2 hours prior to my bewitching hour of clarity are unclear and probably too inappropriate to be blogged about anyways. I rolled over and shoved the masculine silhouette next to me. I explained, “Hey I think I may be getting over a cold so you should probably leave now.” He mumbled something about how it made him feel bad that I wanted him to leave. I simply ignored him and guided him towards the open door, closing it behind him. I quickly shuffled to the bathroom and began washing my face, brushing my teeth, and rounding up any sort of dignity I may have had left. Half asleep I climbed back into bed but to my surprise I was not alone. HE HAD COME BACK!! Was this some sort of bad dream? He reached over and assumed the position as big spoon. He then whispered that he couldn’t get a hold of his friends so he had to sleep over. I squeezed my eyes shut as he nuzzled into the back of my neck…GROSS.

After a few more restless hours I realized that I needed to figure out some way to abort this mission that had gone so terribly wrong. I tip toed out of my bedroom and into the living room. I woke up my best girl friend that was asleep on the couch bed. I explained what had happened and that I needed her help to come up with a reason to make him leave. Then it hit me. I should say that I have to go to a family party. Yes that’s it a family party! Better yet, a Baptism! I instructed my friend to get on the floor and assume the position pretending to get ready to leave. I burst back into my room and bluffed about the family commitment I had to go to. Of course he believed me. I mean who would lie about going to a Baptism? The moment he left, I swiftly double locked the door. There was no way he was going to sneak attack me again.

Although I regret the events that occurred on January 23, 2010 I cannot take them back. All I can do is hope I know better next time, and maybe stop in the confessional at my near by church to explain my sins. It’ll probably be in my best interest to leave out the small detail of using a Baptism as an excuse to kick out a one-night stand though.

Crotch in the Face

So, there are a good amount of awkward things that happen in this good old city of Boston. However, one of the most awkward things by far is when you're sitting minding your own business on the T and a gentleman decides to stand on a pole facing you.

You know, those days when the T is overly crowded so there's not enough room for everyone to fit comfortably. There are women with strollers filled with crying babies, men with briefcases coming from work, little yelping dogs running around, and there just isn't enough room for everyone to fit happily in one place.

Well, this wouldn't be such a big deal if it weren't for one small (actually rather large) problem: crotch in the face. OK, now let me explain further. When a man positions himself to hold onto the bar right where you happen to be sitting, his crotch positions itself exactly in the seated girls face, give or take a little depending on the height of the man.

What makes it even worse is when the T starts getting rocky, and people start shifting and the dude gets even closer. Now you're sitting there, a poor innocent girl, not knowing where to look. You play with your phone, pretend to text, look at the person next to you, but after a certain point in time, there's nothing other to do but stare. It's like when someone has a hole in their pants, or a deformed arm, or a huge chunk of broccoli in their teeth. You don't want to look, but you just can't help it.

Yesterday, I literally had to sit for about 15 minutes with a strangers thing in my face, straddling the pole in front of MY seat. It was one of the most uncomfortable, silent, awkward 15 minutes of my life. And it seemed like hours. He was the only person standing up on the entire T and figures, it was right in front of my seat.

Gentlemen, next time you position yourself on the t, try to shift a bit to the left or right to give the poor women sitting down a break from your crotch. Either that, or next time I may just give up my seat and sacrifice standing to avoid future encounters.

The Construction Worker

It was senior year of college, and I was out at a local bar with a bunch of friends. The guy front wasn't going very well for me, so when I met a really cute construction worker (whom we'll call Bret) I went for it. Bret was hot, and I was enjoying the attention at the time.

When Bret got my number at the end of the night, I thought nothing of it, 'cause let's face it: guys rarely actually call.

The next morning I get a phone call from Bret around 10 a.m. He wanted to spend the day with me and go hiking. A day date? I AM IN!

Well, I put on my cutest carefree yoga pants with a matching top, threw on some sneakers and headed off to meet Bret at his house. When I got there, he greeted me at the door, looking just as cute as the night before: brown hair, brown eyes, a little scruff on his chin, that real rugged look I tend to go for.

We went inside, and I met his friends, and then Bret took me on a motorcycle ride. THIS IS SO COOL, I thought to myself. After all, I tend to play it safe so holding onto a hot guy on a motorcycle was pretty exhilarating for me. When we got back to his apartment, we drank a little bit of wine, and ate some grapes and cheese. It was going pretty well, but I guess we weren't going hiking after all? Anyway, after some chatting, we headed off to go par 3 golfing with his friends instead! On the car ride there, Bret farted about 4 times extremely loud and was cracking up with his friends, which should have been a red flag here and then. I mean, it was only our first date. Doesn't he want to impress me just a little? But instead I brushed it off and laughed. Hey, it's just a natural human thing I suppose. And he is just a guy.

Golf went really well, and Bret made sure to help me with my swing and wait for me when I was falling a little behind. It turns out I was pretty decent at golf after all, so I didn't need too much help.

After golf, we went back to his place, and Bret told me he was going to take a shower. I guess that was a good thing, since he obviously had a smell/farting issue going on. He left me in the living room to talk with his friends while he was bathing, which was OK since I can entertain myself pretty well.

After that, I thought I should get going, so I told Bret I was tired and wanted to go home and take a nap. He then said, "Well I'm tired too, want to take a short nap here?" "OK!" I said. I was so naive. What kind of guy really just wants to take a nap? But, he was being a gentlemen throughout our whole "date" (minus the whole farting spiel) and hadn't tried anything yet, so I agreed to an innocent nap.

Well, it was only a few seconds before we started kissing, and things started to get pretty hot and heavy. He ripped off my shirt, but just to make it clear: my pants never came off. That's why when he reached for a condom on his nightstand I was a little confused.

"No, I don't want to," I said.

"What, you don't want to use a condom?"

HA, is he serious? "No, I don't want to have sex with you!!"

"Are you serious?" he said, looking at me in utter shock.

"Yes, I'm serious. I just met you, I barely know you, and I DON'T want to have sex with you!"

"Wow...just WOW!" he said. "You shouldn't have kissed me in the first place if you didn't want to sleep with me. You are SUCH a tease!"

Is this guy serious? Since when does kissing someone assume you will sleep with them?

"Well, I didn't think that's what this would lead to," I said, feeling nervous and ashamed.

"Just so you know, for future references with other guys, that's not really cool what you just did, getting a guy all turned on like that."

"OK," I said putting my shirt back on as quick as I could, as I grabbed my keys and jumped off of his bed.

"What, are you leaving? Did I do something wrong?"

"Ya, you made me feel really bad," I said, quietly.

"That's OK, I'll be fine, it just sucks right now 'cause I'm all turned on."

"NO! I don't feel bad for you. You made me feel really bad about myself. I'm leaving."

Wow, that Bret was a real winner. I wish him the best of luck with all his future women. We'll see if he ever gets anywhere with that mindset. Oh, and just for future references Mr. Construction worker, you shouldn't really fart excessively on the first date, especially when you're goal is to try and get a woman to sleep with you.