Taking a Second Look

I loathe going to the post office, but a pink slip I received in my mailbox brought me to one on a sunny Saturday afternoon.

The slip notified me that the post office had a package for me, but it was too large to fit into my mailbox. I would have to pick it up in person.

The government worker behind the counter looked miserable to be working on the weekend. No surprise there.

Post Office Lady: Here's your package. Looks like you have a friend in Ireland.
So@24: ... Ireland, you say?

I tossed the beat up box in the passenger seat and made my way home. At red lights, I'd raise an eyebrow and sneak a glance at the Irish package.

I placed the package on my living room table and took a seat on the couch. The poor box had a rough trip over the Atlantic, but luckily the box INSIDE that box was unharmed. It was decorated in panels of a Spider Man comic (wow, she remembered).

Caitlin had placed a random assortment of candies and knick-knacks inside. A box of Irish tea, two bags of Irish sweets "clove rocks" and "sour apple balls" that proudly advertised "Handmade in Ireland", a giant rubber centipede who went by the name of Cyril, and a few Aero Bars just to name a few.

A wave of emotions came over me as I investigated each of the box's contents one by one. It has been quite sometime since I really thought about Caitlin for a prolonged period of time. Ever since I discovered that she thought I had "the wrong idea" about how she felt about me, I would turn pink with humiliation and was quick to change subjects whenever anyone asked me her whereabouts.

Or I said she died in a devastating explosion when her car crashed into a gas station.



I would have to explore the rest of the box at a later time, I needed to stop by the bookstore to visit Jack.

Stepping into Skylight, I made my way to the childrens' books. Jack wore a scarf. I made a mental note to make fun of him later, there were more important things on the docket to discuss.

Jack: Well hello.
So@24: I got a package from Irish Caitlin.
Jack: No shit. How do you feel about that?
So@24: I'm not sure yet. It brought up a lot of old shit... it's weird. I still feel stupid and that I was duped somehow. How did I read that wrong, you know? It's fucking scary when you can't trust your own instincts.
Jack: From what you've told me, it doesn't sound like you misread anything. You were doing all the right things. She might have just freaked out. It happens all the time without explanation. Look at me.

I put what Jack said in the back of mind until I returned home much later that evening. I grabbed the box from the table and made my way to my bedroom. I crawled into bed and continued my investigation.

At the very bottom of the box was a relatively thick stack of journal-size pages bound together by tiny clothing pins. Back in the early days of Caitlin, she had taken a trip to Madrid for a few weeks. She had hand written mini-notes to me almost every day of her trip. Her handwriting was like a font of its own and she doodled all over the pages. She discussed her day, her thoughts and went off on random tangents (or what she calls "waffling").

I sat in my bed and read all 44 handwritten pages and for a moment, fell for her all over again. I found myself actually chuckling out loud and smirking like an idiot at her completely random string of thoughts and sketches. She even made a mini collage of all of our inside jokes.

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

I closed the Spidey-decorated box and put it aside when I finished reading. I thought about what Jack told me in the bookstore.

Maybe it was time to look at my brief time with Caitlin in a different light. I learned an extremely valuable lesson from her. For a very long period of time (and I still get this way on occasion), I thought that no one else would be able to stir up the kind of giddy emotion that can only come from a member of the opposite sex. I didn't think anyone would make me laugh like my ex-girlfriend Lynn. That a cute girl would actually pay me any attention. Although nothing ever materialized, Caitlin brought me out of that dark moment... if only very briefly.

Someone ELSE besides my ex-girlfriend could do those things. There was hope.

She burned me, there's no doubt about that. But maybe it's time for me to stop being bitter about never knowing "what happened" and get over my obsession of always having to have the answer. Time to stop beating myself up over not reading the signals right and focus on the positive aspects.

Who the fuck knows what girls are thinking anyway? Every other guy in the history of time has complained about complexities of the female brain, why did I think I was so special to sidestep it?

Hankering for a Danish

"Why are you so far away from me?
I need help and you're way across the sea
I could never touch you - I think it would be wrong
I've got your letter
you've got my song"
- Weezer's "Across the Sea"

A few weeks ago I received an extremely nice email on my So@24 account. From a girl in Denmark.

A Danish bird eh? My interest was immediately piqued.

I emailed her back (as I do all my emails) and we shared a brief exchange. Eventually we became Facebook friends and I saw pictures of my Danish reader.

You know how people use the expression "my jaw dropped", but they don't mean it literally? Mine actually did. Piercing blue eyes (I'm full of cliche's this evening, but trust me on this one), cute dimples, and a natural blond. Be still my blogging heart.

Since then we've been exchanging emails. Like paragraphy long emails! You have to understand, this is exciting shit for a guy like me.

This gorgeous girl went through and read my entire blog. A blog that doesn't hold back revealing the most humiliating mistakes with women, failure with online dating, or how I've gone on and on about a two year drought. And she still wrote to me. And continued writing to me.

To me!

When she wrote me, "Jeg var også jaloux over din "date" ;)"*

You couldn't wipe that stupid grin off my face. I totally geeked out like a giddy school boy; I can admit that.

Bah. Again, I'm a realist. It's most likely just harmless flirtation. If it was possible, I wouldn't hesitate for a second to ask her out for a drink, but Copenhagen isn't close (damn that Atlantic Ocean). And besides, I'm not sure the US dollar would do too hot over there.

But fuck, it's nice to have a cute, smart girl give a damn or give me the slightest bit of attention, even if it is in the form of electronic mail. It's fun! It feels good!

And yes all you cynics (e.g. Leo), I haven't forgotten what happened with the Irish girl, Caitlin. That whole experience was like the time when I came back from a soccer game, grabbed a bottle of refreshing Kiwi-Strawberry Snapple from the fridge to quench my thirst and began chugging; only to realize that my mom was using the bottle to keep her chicken broth. I haven't forgotten that disappointingly, salty gulp... but it wouldn't stop me from enjoying a tasty Snapple in the future. I just have to inspect the bottle closer for floating chicken bits before taking an enormous pull.

Okay not my best metaphor, but you get it.


I really can't help but wonder I pissed off some gypsy and as a result, got stuck with this curse. Why is it that when a gorgeous, intelligent girl shows any interest in me... she happens to live on the other side of the world?



$9.56 still remains untouched on my Skype account.

Maybe I'll be fortunate enough to use it up one of these days.









* Translated from Danish = "I was also jealous of your "date"

Farewell Crazy Janice!

When Crazy Janice texted me a message "hey you! i'm going to be in la tonight! meet me at barneys!!", I couldn't resist the invitation.

A very brief, lightening speed recap for those who aren't caught up on the Janice front. Crazy J is a huge attention whore, had her middle name legally changed to "Kawk Teez", and a New Zeland kiwi could shame her on an IQ test.

But she has nice sweater yams.

I don't keep in contact with ol' Janice very often (for obvious reasons). And I'm used to the game that she plays... it's a routine we've gotten into. She makes a coy, "cute" joke about how we're going to make out, we meet up for a couple of drinks, and at the end of the night we leave separately. At first I was annoyed by this, but I've come to expect it and if you expect it and don't give two shits; it's all in good fun.

This particular evening, our usual, tried & true method of interaction didn't quite go down as usual.

Now Janice has her good qualities. She is the girl you don't have to take seriously or even pretend to be interested in. She'll take any shot you put in front of her (as long as you do one too!) and can be good for just that "surface level" fun that can be refreshing. Think of her like a shitfaced pinata.

We guzzled Redbull Vodkas, took a couple of "bartender's choice" shots and in general: got down with our alchy selves.

But closing time was drawing near and I could tell my friends wanted to take off. This is how our conversation went down.

So@24: Alright I think we're taking off. Good to see you again.
Crazy Janice: I didn't get drunk enough tonight, so I'm not down to make out with you. Maybe you can try your luck again tomorrow night.

Wait. A. Fucking. Tick.

Now maybe it was booze. Maybe I have just been overly sensitive of girls who will suck the blood (see: attention) of absolutely any male they come across in order to stave off death (see: Caitlin). But I took this as a pretty presumptuous and insulting quip coming from this girl. I never made any gesture that I wanted to make out with her. Pretty fucking bold. And did she just say that she had to be drunk to make out with me?

A visual would be much better than my words will be able to describe, but stick with me. Imagine I am over-acting as all hell. Sarcasm oozing from my pores.

So@24: Oh shit! Me? You?? I get to hang out with you?? With the possibility of making out? Tomorrow?
Crazy Janice: Oh fuck you, So. You fucking asshole!

Patrons of the bar are turning to see what all the commotion is about.

So@24: So I guess we're on tomorrow right? You know, to possibly make out?

I have an enormous grin plastered to my face, I toss up two double thumbs up and start to moonwalk out the door.

Crazy Janice: FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!

Two of my friends start to awkwardly squeeze past her.

Crazy Janice: Are you friends with that fuck??
Two Friends: Um. Yes?
Crazy Janice: Well fuck you too then!

* * *

Doogie Howser Writing in his Diary on his Commodore 64 Moment
* * *

With every nice guy, there comes this boiling point. Where we get sick of always getting trampled upon, our genuinely nice gestures get taken for granted and taking it up the ass like Jennifer Connelly's character in Requium for a Dream. These girls who just like to dangle the carrot are so transparent, it's laughable. I had to take one back for us.

And I think hit that line when she thought she had some upper hand on me.

Needless to say, I think that's the last time I'll ever hear from Crazy Janice.

Masochism at its Worst: Falling for Flirty Girls

I have a detrimental pattern that I can trace back to my very first crush. I thought this was something I, alone, had a problem with. But a conversation with a friend over the weekend made me realize that this isn't the case; it's a problem for other guys too.

The masochistic pattern is falling for the overly flirty girl.

Well no shit, So. Everyone also likes ice cream. And a person who flirts with them.

Okay. Fine. But my point is that there are a small band of us who have this cycle of actually falling for the same type of girl... the type of girl who never actually intends to reciprocate.

We're idiots. We're that little Pomeranian you can punt across the lawn and it'll come yapping back ready for more! Or better yet, you can even compare us to Charlie Brown and Lucy pulling away the goddamn football every goddamn time.

I feel your pain, Chuck.

In any case, there's kicking of some sorts involved.

It's extremely difficult to break this vicious cycle. You can't help what you find attractive; there's something electrifying when a girl singles you out (no matter how brief) and laughs at your jokes or hooks an arm around you or sends you an ambiguous text message. It's addicting, we crave it and we'll make up excuses to allow it to continue.

And every time one of these types flirts with us, we foolishly think that we're special. We're unique. Why do we do that?

Even though I know her history of leaving men in a trail of bloody, heart-juice... it doesn't mean shit. We think that "we're the one that was able to tame"

"Come on," we think. "She can't be acting this way to EVERYONE."

But let's be honest with ourselves. That's mostly the case.

I always wonder who these types eventually settle down with. What was their courtship ritual with the guy they end up in a relationship with? Is it the same method of sickeningly, blatant flirtation? Do they eventually reach that point where they end up being the antelope instead of the jaguar?

How can guys like myself rewire ourselves? We're conditioned to take signs of flirtation and translate it to "this girl has an interest in me romantically". Otherwise, how else are you EVER supposed to know if a girl likes you?

More importantly, how can you change your thought process to not be smitten with these girls who delight in making fruit smoothies out of our guts?

I Get Psychoanalytical on Kate Nash's Fine Ass

There are times when even I have to pull out the waistband of my sweatpants to check and see if my testicles are still intact.

Chud. Please. Stop reading my blog. I'm begging you. If I ever post about semi-trucks exploding, strippers with fake chest lovies, and large knives... I promise, you'll be the first to know.

I like to dissect songs. Especially songs people recommend to me with lyrics that cause your ears to perk during the first listen through.

During a conversation with Caitlin, she sent me a song that she admitted to strongly identifying with at one point in her life. And when anyone sends me a song, I instantly open up a link with the lyrics and read along while I listen. I'm a lyric fiend.

The song she shared with me was Kate Nash's "Foundations". Apparently this song is "fucking old" according to the few friends I decided to show this song to (thanks, dicks). But I'm not an up-to-date music guy since my tastes have not matured beyond embarrassingly, poppy punk music of the late 1990s and early 2000s. It's new to me.

And I dug this song. And let me tell you what my favorite part about it was: Not the lyrics itself, but how Kate decided to structure the song.

Ol' Kate Nash is singing about her relationship and yep, she's in a shitty relationship because she's part of a shitty couple. She knows it's a bad relationship. The guy is a total fuck and any sane, logical person would be done with it in a heart beat.

In fact, every verse is spun to tell very specifically detailed moment which illustrates how terrible it actually is. Listening to these verses made me cringe. Not that I was in one of these situations, but Kate forces you to experience it with her.

Kate throws each verse at you like some kind of circus showgirl tossing daggers at someone on a revolving circle. And she doesn't let up. Bam! Bam! Bam!

Goddamn, Kate.

But the chorus is used as a marker placed in between each of her horror stories; a breather. She's taking a moment to step back from the blitzkrieg and think out loud. She expresses that she "can't forget" and she acknowledges that she "knows it's not right". The chorus is the yin to the verses' yang; completely vague. If you say it enough, you might... just might... be able to rationalize it.

The structure of the song is brilliant in that it's a great representation of what happens with shitty couples, right before it's over. You can name everything wrong with the relationship, but when you're asked to give reasons to stay together... you can't.

...

She's a little cutey too. Give me a chance, Kate! I swear I'll be good to you!

When the Scales Tip...

Over the past few weeks, I've received quite a few emails from readers asking me the whereabouts and/or the status of Caitlin. I decided the best way to tackle this inquiry was to dedicate a post about it, since it very will fits with a valuable lesson in singledom.

* * *

The early stages of figuring out where things might be going with an potential interest is absolutely terrifying.

You never show more interest; equal, but never more.

If she's shown promising signs of interest, I follow (perhaps more than one should) close in tow. I've read the signs wrong too many times. Imagine it like a very delicate game of Red Light, Green Light.

This isn't something I'm used to normally. I've learned it the hard way, as most guys do who share my modus operandi of wearing their hearts on their sleeve. I can't begin to count the amount of times Leo has had to grab hold onto the collar of my shirt, slap me twice, look into my googly, heart-shaped eyes and tell me to "cool it". "Hold your cards close to your chest."

Gaging where you are in this merciless footrace, makes for an interesting dynamic when both people blog. And blog honestly.

With blogs, you're exposed. She can read everything you've ever thought and are currently thinking. The reverse is true as well, you can read her dirty secrets. You both are the soggy, 7th grade, lab rats pinned down to the foamy mats prepped for dissection. It's a portal to answer all the questions you've wanted to know and also, some things you wish you'd rather didn't.

And if I'm honest with myself, I can admit that I used to check to see if things were balanced. I mean come on, it's right there... you have to look! Does she write the same as I about her? Am I gushing about how great she is while she's digitally chewing a wad of Bazooka Joe and filing her nails? Is there any interest at all? Does she have this kind of playful banter with other bloggers? BalanceBalanceBalanceBalanceBalance.

When things suddenly become unbalanced; it makes you feel weak and small. There are two types of guys... those who love the chase and will be persistent as fuck no matter how uninterested the girl is.

I'm afraid, I'm not that way. I loathe the chase. Any sign of disinterest or if there's a chance I'm up against other suitors, I grab my fedora from the hat rack. I gently place my neatly stacked documents into my briefcase, tip my hat and I'm out the door with what little quiet dignity I have left.

This early in the game, if the scales are already sliding... it probably means there's an issue, a red flag. It's a whole lot of "no fun" when you think you're running a three legged race, only to see that your friend has stopped to tie their shoes a mile back. And it turns out they wear velcro.

* * *

That was my ridiculously long answer tied to the So@24 theme. The quick answer: Caitlin and I talked on an almost daily basis online. She keeps up with her blog. She still remains one of the few girls who can get a hearty chuckle out of me without trying. She's around.

It's Okay To Have Faith

I was talking to a reader today and she brought up a topic, very nonchalantly, about her faith in herself and her faith in men.

She spun me a story that I am all too familiar with and one that I imagine isn't a rare instance. She told me that she had just recently "given up" on a guy who she was extremely close with. They were more than just "buddies", he had told her how much he cared about her, and she had held out hope that they one day might be able to make something work.

You can see where this story is going, I'm sure. She waited. He fed her what she wanted to hear. Alas, nothing ever came from the friendship and she just recently had learned to let it go.

This reader was admitting to me that she was humiliated by herself for believing that what he was telling her had merit. And this got me thinking about my own experience.

I told her that she should not be embarrassed about her actions. It's not her fault and it's actually "okay" to have faith that people have good intentions. You can't go around always suspecting that people have ulterior motives or have some kind of trick up their sleeve. Sometimes, you have to go with your gut or you'll always think back and wonder "what if".

It reminded me of my story with Beth.

I haven't mentioned her in awhile, because we haven't communicated since the wedding.

She was one of my best friends from college and one of the few people I really connected with. We stayed in a weird, friend limbo for years... but when I stepped up and started pointing out the goddamn elephant in the living room... nothing came of it.

Beth knew what to say to keep me coming back for more; she perfected the art of hinting that perhaps one day we'd be more than just best friends. I think that she knew if she didn't keep pumping what I wanted to hear into me, keeping me holding out for "maybe it'll happen...", she knew that the attention I shamelessly showered her with would eventually disintegrate.

Eventually, it takes something to make you realize that enough is enough. And I believe that something is different for everyone; you can't predict it. Waiting for words to turn into actions gets old. And the words that once made your heart pump at an unhealthy speed soon become words that make you want to wretch.

I think my "something" was the day I realized that it should never be this much work to have someone like you. If you're working too hard, it's never worth it. Who wants to be with someone you have to try and convince? To explain why it would be a great thing? What kind of "how we met story" is that?

"Well Timmy, your father just kept holding out, holding out, and being persistent as fuck even though I had kept avoiding the subject entirely."
-places hand on shoulder of father-
"And finally, after our 23rd discussion on why we should be together (actually it was more HIM talking than me, so I guess it's not really a discussion per se)... I finally threw my hands up in surrender! And here we are today. Want a cookie?"

My something was the day I realized I knew I could get a hold of someone (via text, Skype, or email) who lived across the Atlantic... more than I ever could with Beth. And it's not just me making the effort to talk, I find that I too, wake up with "Good morning!" texts and emails waiting for me. Beth and I had some great times together, but if I was going to be honest with myself... she really wasn't even a good friend, whether she really did have feelings for me or not.

* * *

I think a fair amount of people have the unfortunate luck of experiencing something like this. It's extremely humiliating to feel like you've been duped... that your instincts were dead wrong.

If I were to do it all over again, I would. Perhaps I wouldn't have let it last as long as I did before I put a foot down. But I don't regret at all giving someone a chance to prove me wrong. I'll continue to have faith that there are some people out there mean what they say and have good intentions. No regrets.

A Call is Made.

It happened.

It finally happened.

I wish I could say I made the long-awaited call while twirling the phone cord around my pointer finger, wearing a fluffy robe, laying on my stomach swaying my legs back and forth, under a canopy bed.

Actually wait. I don't wish that.

But allow me to set the scene. I had a few beers to calm my jangled nerves (I've also noticed that having a buzz seems to magically fast forward time, which I found to be a bonus when you're patiently waiting for something). The heat in Los Angeles has been unbearable lately and that night was no different. I was at my computer, in my boxers, sticking to my computer chair surrounded by (a FEW) empty Pabst cans.

I kept checking the clock to see what time it was. I can't remember exactly how many times Leo had to tell me, "Just fucking wait, man!"

At 1:44am Pacific Standard Time, I made a phone call to a cellular phone across the Atlantic Ocean.

And it was good. It was really, really good.

No awkward pauses. No uncomfortably silences. And the details of WHAT exactly we talked about kind of blur together. Just the normal things you'd talk to anyone about really.

Before I knew it, my Skype credits were close to running out; Caitlin and I had been talking for a little over an hour.

So@24: Well... I suppose we could try out our webcams?
Caitlin: Well, I suppose we could.

So. We took the next big step in whatever the staircase is when you begin communicating with someone who reads your blog (oooh, that just occurred to me that could get messy... perhaps a post for another time). And we talked longer and by the time I went to bed to catch some sleep for work the next day, it was 3:42am.

And we've talked almost every day since.

* * *

I'm not sure what exactly is going on. Perhaps nothing. After all, she is 5,174 miles away. But it's fun, it's exciting, and it's something that I haven't felt in a long, long time. I can't remember the last time I woke up early and grinned like an idiot because I got a text from a girl.

But it's also terrifying. That giddy feeling is not the only feeling that has come back. Those nagging, back of your mind, single guy whose vulnerable questions...

Is she just bored and I happen to be a pleasant distraction?
Why is this cute*, sexy, smart, witty (god, she's a walking cliche'), single girl showing any interest in me?
She must have a million other guys who are chasing after her... who live in the same country!
Wait a second, how many other blogging guys is she striking up convos with??

...

I'm probably getting way too ahead of myself.

But who knows? Maybe right? I've heard it can work...



* guys love foreign accents as much as girls do. Trust me, she has a cute one.

The Plight of a Phone Call

Well. I was supposed to make a phone call.

If you want the short story or want to save yourself scanning through just another drunken So@24 story the answer is: the call never got made.

I know, I know. You think it's because I got too drunk, right? And if you're thinking this... you're half right.

Here's my story...

Alcohol has the ability to make someone more self-confident or daring; they may become more friendly or talkative, and/or social. I pulled this directly from here and if it's Wikipedia, you know it's true.

I was a bit nervous before making this phone call. So I thought, "why not just have a few drinks to calm my jangled nerves?" Leo, Leroy and I already made plans to go to one of our old watering holes anyway.

Turns out a few drinks turned into 3 shots of Early Times whiskey with Leroy and then 3 Newcastles with Leo at the bar. I think it was safe to say that my nerves were gone and I was ready to make the call. Unfortunately, with the timezone difference, I would have given her quite a wakeup call... at 8:00am on a Saturday.

As much as Leo & Jack kept trying to explain this to me, I am not a patient man... especially when the booze hits me. I think at one point, Leo took my phone away, "Dude. She's going to hate you for calling so early! Is this the kind of first impression you want to give?"

I finally got dropped off at home and sat alone at the kitchen table. I was alone, as Leo had stayed behind, and I was trying to make the blurry calling card instructions UNblurry by squinting. I hear that works.

I got an error message at least 8 times. Finally I called the 24 hour service on the back of the card.

Operator: How can I help you, sir?
So@24: Your card isn't working. I can't call my friend! She's waiting for this call!
Operator: What's the number?
So@24: XX-XXX-XXXX
Operator: That's a cellphone number. You know you can't call a cellphone number using this card, right?
So@24: What kind of racket is this?? I want my $20 back!
Operator: Are you drunk?
So@24: Are you??
Operator: I'm going now.
So@24: Wait... waaaaaaaaaaaait!

*click*

I shut off the kitchen light and checked the ol' bloggy for new comments. One of my commenters left me with a tip for another international calling service... success!

I purchased $10 worth of credits. I would not be defeated so easily. This time the phone was ringing! My heart was racing a mile a minute. I was starting to sweat. This was it.

"I'm sorry. This service is not available at this time. Please try again later."*

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

I didn't know what else to do. And my head was spinning. I sent off an email letting Caitlin know that I at least tried.

The next few hours I experienced that kind of sleep you have when you're 7 years old on Christmas eve or the night before a major final. The kind where you wake up every couple of hours.

The first time I woke up was 4:45am... my mouth was dry, my head throbbing, my memory hazy, and I was fully dressed on top of my sheets clutching my cellphone, a crumpled phone card, and Caitlin's number scribbled hastily on a ripped, scrap of paper.

I woke up again at 7:16am, and then finally 8:30am checking my inbox to see if I had received a response.**

She had emailed me and when she got online, we tried troubleshooting why the call didn't go through.

Our deduction? Turns out a cellphone in one country won't work in another country. Who knew?

I can't remember the last time I jumped through this many hoops to make a phone call.






* a female voice with an Irish accent. Close enough, I suppose.
** Yeah, I know I might be showing too many of my cards too early since she has access to this blog, but fuck it... the blog is censored for no one!

Big Step.

I just returned from the 7-11 down the street during my lunch break.

I have in my hands a calling card.

I'm nervous as fuck.



Jack: We'll put some whiskey in the back of your throat and I'm sure you'll be leaving her rap-voicemails in no time.

So@24's One Year Anniversary Variety Hour (w/ an Intro by Leo)

An intro by my roommate and best friend:

It happened on an ordinary Friday morning in early June, near the corner of Sepulveda and Jefferson in Los Angeles. You wouldn't have noticed if you were standing nearby—there was no commotion, no herald announcing its arrival, no fanfare to be observed. It arrived quietly and unnoticed, as most great things do.

The sun continued to shine, the warm breeze to softly blow. But it happened nonetheless. In a moment, it just appeared-- a blip, a spark, in the vast abyss of cyberspace.

It was born out of the pieces of a shattered self, and its creator presented it to us with a humble shrug. At 11:11am on that June morning, exactly one year ago, someone decided to start over at the age of 24. The rest, as they say, is history.

Despite being prone to "fly by", a year is a long time. I've had the pleasure of riding shotgun to So through it all, and it's given me a great deal of perspective. Now, I could go on about how much he's grown, how well he's weathered the storm, how I know he'll continue to sally forth with a wry smile and sharp tongue, and how it's been a privilege to be part of it all.

This is his blog though, his chronicle, and I'm taking up precious space. I will say this though—thanks for everything, and everything to come.

As someone once wrote, this should be interesting.

I wish you luck.

- Leo

* * *

Why, hello there.

I didn't even realize it has already been 365 days since I first started rambling on about my pathetic, reluctant, grasping-onto-the-door-frame, journey into singledom.

I think the best post I can do for this entry is to do what is to be expected for a blog of my type: to have a "retrospective". To go back and read the first few entries and to compare it to how I was then to how I am now.

I wish I could go back and say the following things:

I've found true love since then.
I've had 3 girlfriends since then.
I've met one girl that wanted to date me seriously since then.
I've dated one girl since then.
I've slept with someone since then.
I boned some broad in the bathroom at some house party since then.
I've felt a boob, under-the-shirt since then.
I've felt a boob, over-the-shirt since then.

I have done none of the sort.

However, I have changed and grown quite a bit within that year. And perhaps this will shed some light on the random commenters who I stumbled upon, talking shit about my blog on some random Poker Strategy site.

Why I still let shit like that bother me, I'm not sure.

* * *

I remember my first introduction to the blogging world, was one that Leo himself started (and canceled soon after... sorry ladies). It consisted of short entries, a random picture every other entry with funny captions, and witty commentary about the most banal things that almost anyone experiences in their own lives.

But it was hilarious. And it was honest.

I wanted to share something too. What story could I tell? And what if I stuck to a theme...

My thoughts turned to the only thing that it could at the time. My breakup with Lynn was very real and something I still was losing sleep over. I can honestly say that I felt as though I was the only person to go through these circumstances. Of course, I was not vain in the sense that I was the only person to ever go through a serious breakup with their first love. But!

I thought it was interesting that I had dated only one person, all throughout the most vital eras where "normal people" meet and date members of the opposite sex: e.g. high school and college. I was in a fraternity, for fuck's sake! All of my friends have had at least three girls they have dated and or slept with! They knew what to expect the next time around. They learned from their own mistakes, learned from their girlfriend's (or hook up's) mistakes, they knew what to do.

We're talking even the most simple rules you learn along the way... like, "do you bring a condom no matter what??" or " Can what you have in your room actually be the kryptonite to vagina?"

I was 24 years old. Thrown into the jungle with a loin cloth and a homemade spear. Life tapped me on my tender lil' ass and said, "Good luck, buddy".

I started my blog for three reasons:

1. It was nice to get my thoughts out, no matter how whiny or bitchy, and just leave it out there without getting judged too harshly. Pro tip: your friends, no matter how badass they are, will get sick of your shit after awhile.

2. The dating stories, I had experienced, were entertaining enough for my friends to repeat to each other and to get genuine laughs out of... why not share it?

3. And ultimately, I wished I had something to read like this when I was going through it. So I didn't feel so alone.


So. What have I learned since then?

I am blessed to be in a situation that I feel a lot of people my age do not get to experience. Despite the fact that my ex-girlfriend put me through the most pain imaginable (I'd still rather have my testicles tossed underhanded into a salad shooter), I didn't let her decision make me lose sight of what a great friend and how important she was to be throughout the six years we dated. When we started talking again and establishing a friendship is one of the greatest things I've experienced.

We experienced high school, college, and post college together... arguably the years that shape who you are.. She was (and still is) an extremely important and significant person to me. I am glad that we are still friends, can talk honestly and openly about our mistakes, and aren't bitter about our relationship ending.

I learned what it was like to get rejected by someone who I thought, for sure, was as equally interested in me. Although it wasn't a straight out, black & white, rejection... I learned that if you have to fight for something too much... then she's really not all that interested. And besides, do you want to really be with someone who is resisting at all? Doesn't sound too promising to me.

I learned that there aren't a set of rules to go about a proper a break up. Society can suck it. You CAN be civil and be friends with your ex. You CAN maintain a relationship with family members of your ex. And YES, it can be healthy.

I learned what it's like to get giddy again, regardless of how much sense it makes.

* * *

There is still so much more to learn and I will continue to keep writing about it.

I still don't know what it's like to be on a first date.

I still don't know what it's like to sleep with someone new. Will I ever get to experience what "the flying hippo" is all about?

I still don't know what it's like to kiss someone who I actually get those ever elusive, ever cliche' butterflies over.

-shrug-


It's been a fun year and I want to thank all the readers who have stuck around since the beginning (Pud, Blinds), who tried it once and passed, who had the courage to email me their own stories (fuck it, I'm also going to thank all the "hate mail" too), who took the plunge and came to me for relationship advice, and finally... to those of you who are discovering it for the first time. Welcome!

I'm actually going to crack a beer right now and cheers:

"here's hoping you'll stick around and teach me a thing or two"

Appreciate a Good Conversationalist

How else are you going to meet new people if you're just standing around the same keg at every party with the same guys, sharing the same stories?

I've learned to force myself into conversations with random people at parties. Stepping out of that comfort zone is inevitable and with it comes mixed results. However, at a random house party in San Francisco this weekend, I had an epiphany.

While standing around with my friend Collin (our group's notorious prankster & practical joker), a girl in a ruffle skirt and a trucker hat started to chat us up.

After listening to her talk for approximately 32 seconds, I made the decision... for the first time ever... to consciously shut off my brain.

I have to admit that I admire her gusto, she was clearly 3 (or 4 or 5) sheets to the wind and initiated conversation with two completely random strangers. And in my defense, I gave it the old college try: I actually started to pay attention to the noises coming out of her mouth. But within seconds, I could tell this girl was going to give us her complete life story and it wasn't anywhere close to be considered interesting.

Slow fade out

So@24's Innermonologue: I am going to consciously think about something else right now. I wonder what Collin is drinking? Maybe I should have gotten that...

Slow fade back in

Trucker Hat Mama: ...so then I decided it might be a good idea to get my GED, but I really couldn't get motivated, you know?...

Slow fade out

So@24's Innermonologue: What kind of hat is she wearing anyway? Rockstar huh? I remember when trucker hats were cool. I wonder if she gets that all the time...

Slow fade back in

Trucker Hat Mama: ... and then I was like, "Well, maybe I should move to San Francisco!" But my bff for like evs and evs was like, "I can't believe you're leaving me!" And we...

Slow fade back out

So@24's Innermonologue: God. She hasn't even made it to San Francisco yet. I wonder what Collin is thinking right now. At least I'm making eye contact and occasionally nodding my head. He's not even trying. I'm a goddamn prince compared to this guy.

Slow fade back in

Trucker Hat Mama: ...I discovered that China Town has so many asian people! I thought it was just like a cute phrase, you know? Oh my God, you're not offended are you? I can be such a dork sometimes. But I don't really like rice.

Slow fade back out

So@24's Innermonologue: I have had way more stimulating, way more engaging, and hellva lot more fun conversations over the computer with someone across the world than this exchange I am having right now. This conversation in person. What does this mean? I wonder what my internet friend is doing now?

Slow fade in

Trucker Hat Mama: ... so what's your guys' story?

I shoot a look to Collin. Come on Collin, say something to save this conversation. Start talking about yourself. Say something. Anything!

Collin: We're a gay couple.

Thanks buddy.

A Girl Distraction Makes the Best Distraction

One of the golden rules of survival I learned post-break up was the best thing to ever happen to you is:

distractions. distractions. distractions.

I'd say it's the most important element of survival. And I did my best to surround myself with as many things as possible. I bought mind-numbing games for my hand-held Nintendo DS (worked best to avoid those emo thoughts before finding sleep). I took every opportunity to go out and drink with friends, ignoring the cries of pain from my empty, tri-fold wallet. I even went to an old, forgotten arcade to shave off some precious hours on a Sunday.

I'm telling you, a good distraction to keep your mind off all that mental vomit is absolutely essential.

But despite all the video games, the 3:00 am beer fests, and the constant looping of Quantum Leap reruns... there is nothing quite like the distraction of flirting with a cute girl, who flirts back.

as much as I love you Scott Bakula
you can't beat the attention of a good woman

Remember when Tim Robbins in Shawshank is explaining to Morgan "Red" Freeman that "hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things". It's kinda like that.

Of course, this isn't to say that flirting results in anything serious. X doesn't HAVE to equal Y in order for it to have any meaning. However, it is comforting to know that (Holy shit!) there are actually other girls out there who are physically attractive and YES, have the potential to be really cool.

As innocent as it is, I still find a tinge of those giddy feelings I used to get with girls way long ago:
looking forward to the next letter/email, the next online conversation, a new picture posted, exchanging music recommendations...

Wow. Hmmm... that sounded a lot cooler in my head, but you get the idea. Internet crushes. -shrug-

She's short, can enjoy an alcoholic beverage, likes cartoons, cute girl-next-door look, witty. And is giving me the time of day? Wants to have a 5 hour conversation with me?? Who knew??

Did I mention she lives across the sea? Goddamn Weezer, why do you hurt so good??*



But I digress. My point is the fact that I am finding myself at a place where I can have an optimistic view of the future... other girls can exist out there that can fit all of these strict So@24 requirements (or even SOME of them). Even if it's something as simple as innocent flirtation.

Maybe I can get giddy again.





* if you got my reference before clicking on the link, then you too have the potential to be my next crush.

Cast of Characters

List of all the players that might be mentioned, associated, or quoted in my anecdotes:


Leo - My former roommate and one of my closest friends. Notorious for winning (and breaking) the hearts of many females. Your modern day Don Juan in a faded t-shirt and Chuck Taylors.
Jack - Newest addition to my circle of friends. Witty, smarmy, and will arrive at any function with a Steele Reserve in his hand as a "warm up". One of my go-tos for advice.
Leroy - Former roommate. Big heart, brings out our geekier side.
Rick - Best friend since 7th grade. Can hold his liquor like the best of us, but is much more wholesome than most.
Mimi - Cousin and best friend, usually has the most accurate insight to my character.
Leslie - Everyone has to have a lesbian friend. Hilarious and always up very front with her opinions.
Jenny - College friend, lived at the sorority next door. Sorority sisters with Mimi, Beth, and Leslie

Paxton - Ex roommate, lived with Leo and me when I first moved to LA.
Veronica - Often ask each others advice and unique insight on the opposite sex. One of the few females friends that hangs out consistently with "the group".


The Girlies

Lynn - My one and only ex-girlfriend. Dated her since high school and we broke up in November 2006.
Janice - An assistant at a production company, I met her through work. We flirted a lot on the phone, but the more I got to know her the more I found out she was absolutely crazy. But she's really cute. Figures.
Ann & Lisa - Met them at a tailgate party randomly. Two cute blonds from the OC who are the biggest lushes I've ever come across. And I was in the greek system at a large university.
the Nurse - Met through friends back in Portland. Blacked out and made out with her in a bar. The first girl I've kissed since the breakup. She seemed alright at first, but after much investigation I'm extremely embarrassed that I did anything. -shudder-
Beth - Lived in the sorority next to my frat and has been one of my closet friends ever since. We've always clicked. Like me, she only has had one boyfriend and that was when she was 23. Her and I have had a dramatic, dark, and twisted past. We had a falling out after this night and haven't spoken since.
Caitlin - Irish girl. There was an interest for awhile, but ended up being a carrot dangler.
Bree - A girl who I met through the blog. We both read each others blogs for quite sometime until the comments turned to emails which turned to gchats which turned to phone calls.