Super Massive Overshare....

…..Which is not to be confused with supermassive black hole, which would be the song that played while all the Cullens played baseball. That’s right, I saw Twilight. I’ll admit it. And Edward Cullen? Absolutely sexy for no good reason. Oh dear do I want him for all the wrong reasons. Him or James. James was HOTTTTTTTTT.

But this post is not about Twilight (but it could be). But it won’t be. Post is about..the drought. Being over. Oh yes, the year and a half or so without…is over. Whoo! I got some! Whoo!!! It’s an overshare of large proportions, but I had to share. How could I not? And there are so many things I could say about the large proportions thing..and Achilles. I won't. But know that there could be a relationship between the two. HINT.

Achilles made it happen. I mean, we both knew it was going to happen and whatever. That’s fine. So on Friday, I had the house to myself. My parents and brother were out seeing Tim McGraw and I was alone (yes, I still live at home. It’s not because I want to, it’s because I’m DEAD ASS BROKE). I told Achilles he HAD to come over because, hello, it was an acceptable time to come to my house. No one else was around. He didn’t have to be exposed to all the crazy. I had an minor meltdown on Friday (but I recovered, mostly) and during the day, one of my coworkers bought me ice cream. Because he is AWESOME. I was telling Achilles about how that ice cream made my day better. Achilles one upped him. He came over, with HALF BAKED ice cream…and condoms. It was sexy. He goes “I brought you presents!” and I danced around the kitchen. I was so excited about the ice cream, I didn’t notice anything else in the bag. He told me to look again and huzzah, protected sex would be had! I told him the lady at CVS must have known that he meant business, what with serious ice cream and serious condoms. We both had a good laugh. He is wonderous. Friday was pretty excellent, I tried to get him to stay with me because it was fucking cold in my house and sometimes, when I’m home by myself, I get all nervous pervous about things that don’t exist. He didn’t spend the night with me though. I do have a tiny bed and we both would have slept like shit. His bed though? Totally awesome and comfortable. I want to stay there.

I made pie with Lilo on Saturday because we are amazing bakemastery all-stars. I was texting Achilles, telling him to be jealous of my pie. Which turned into a totally inappropriate conversation about my pie. How could it not? Yesterday, I brought him some maple pecan pie because he asked so nicely for it. We sat in his bed, all snuggled up, eating pie. It was great – it was cold and snowy outside, we were all snuggled and gross and adorable inside – it was just what I needed.

Achilles really makes me feel good about myself. So in a previous post where I said that I would have to take massive xanax or be so shitty drunk to take off my clothes – that wasn’t my reality. I just…I did it. I didn’t freak out (much) about being nakeeeeeeed in front of him. He makes me feel like I’m just…wonderful. I know that’s the way it’s SUPPOSED to be, that’s how good relationships work. But that’s really never been the way that relationships work for me. Achilles is a totally different experience than I know what to do with. But Achilles still has enough jerk in him to make me like him. If he was nice all the time, I wouldn’t be able to handle that. He’s still funny and makes me smile. And he’s been determined to stick his finger in my nose. I’m not sure why, exactly, but it’s okay. I don’t mind. I like that I can be like that with him and it’s okay.

I also think my parents are starting to suspect that I’m up to something. I’m telling them that I am going other places or going out with other people when I go out with Achilles. I just don’t know how to tell them exactly what I’m up to. It has nothing to do with who Achilles is. I adore him and I really do want to share him with the people that care about me. But I know that they don’t know how to act. They will tweak that he’s 9 years older than me. I don’t ever really notice that he is. We’re very much alike and I just don’t ever really see the difference between us. They would totally fly off the handle when/if they found out how I met him. And that’s the dumbest part. I’ve posted about it before, but so many girls, girls that are way prettier and more awesome than I am, are finding guys on Match.com. That’s just what happens when you get tired of meeting guys in bars, not working with any men and having lots of married friends (sorry Summer and Lilo). I know many people that have done it and it’s no reason to hide it. But because my family is fucking BATSHIT insane, there’s nothing I can do. I was telling Achilles this yesterday because he told me that I just should tell them what’s up. I’m thinking it might be best to just spring it on them. They won’t have time to react, they won’t have time to think and I’ll make them see that he’s really lovely and fabulous.

Last night...

I went over to Achilles' house last night. He wanted to hang out and I said "SURE!" because more than anything, I wanted to snuggle. And snuggle we did. He is a professional snuggler. I kind of love it.

I didn't get to his house until like, 9:30 or so. I had just gone to the gym and my thighs were killing me. I was so broken. So I collapsed on his bed and was like "gah, my legs, they are the broken" and he rubbed them for me. Which sounds bad, but I swear, it wasn't like that. He then told me that he feels bad for my body being so broken all the time. I'm okay with it.

The last time I saw him, he kept on telling me how I was pretty and cute and how everything I did was adorable (including dancing around his kitchen) and I dared him to come up with something that I did that wasn't adorable. Well, apparently, I make this face. I make said face whenever he says something slightly sexual (perhaps he says "I'll stuff your turkey" or something). He told me this face, while made in a sexy moment...WAS NOT SEXY. So guess what I kept on making last night? Oh yes, that face. I would make the face, go "THAT WAS THE FACE!" and then bury my head in a pillow. He would laugh and laugh and tell me that he felt bad for telling me that something I did wasn't adorable. It was cute.

I told him that I couldn't stay and that I would have to leave and go home to sleep in my own bed at my own house. He made the most excellent point that I was there, at his house, and it was warm and I was snuggly. Oh damn you. But I got up and get on my shoes and so on and went outside into the cold, even though I didn't like it. But as I'm going to get up to get my stuff, he kept on pulling me back and pulling me closer to him, telling me not to leave but to stay because it would be so much better if I did (I know that) and we could have so much fun (more fun than we already had? I don't think so) and that he likes me and wants me around. Adorable. He's so sweet and nice and lovely and seriously....I really really really like him.

I put on my emo glasses (I had taken out my contacts because my eyes were soooo dry) and he tells me how pretty I am. I'm blowing hair out of my face and he tells me how pretty I am. I'm telling him not to poke my chub, because seriously....I hate that. He insists that I'm not fat, I don't have chub and that I'm fantastic just the way that I am. Again, I have no idea how to handle someone just being nice to me to be nice to me. He kisses my hair! He rubs my shoulders! He kisses all my fingertips and then the palm of my hand (I haven't figured that out yet, but god, it's sweet) and I just...whoa. You guys. Whoa.

I was j/k on that last one

So...Achilles doesn't hate me. And neither does life. Just in case you wanted to know. I ended up going up to Lilo and Stitch's place. I went out to buy some yarn for Lilo (I'm making her a scarf for Christmas) and then we were hanging out and eating pizza and playing rockband. Huzzah. I texted Achilles to tell him that something he said made Lilo almost fall out of her chair. He texts me back that he's bored...where am I? And a half hour later, he's at Lilo and Stitch's place playing rockband and totally having a blasty blast. We also watched Hot Fuzz because he hadn't seen it and that's just unacceptable. I was thrilled that he could meet Lilo and Stitch. I haven't heard their opinions on him, but we will have to see. I don't see how they couldn't like him...he's a very likable guy. And I have to give it to him, he willingly throws himself in situations that are very much sink or fucking swim and he always makes it out. He had no idea how to play rockband (lame) and he didn't know my friends, but he did it well. W00t!

As we were leaving on Saturday night, I asked him if he still wanted to see me on Sunday, considering he saw me then. He told me that he didn't get enough of me tonight (gag) and that of course I should come over on Sunday. He was making me dinner, damnit.

Which brings us to Sunday. I went over to his place, we were watching dog agility trials (omg, how did we get so cool) all snuggled up warm, which was excellent. Yesterday was a little chilly, so to be all warm and cozy was excellent. Then he made me chicken fajitas (nom nom nom nom) and they were super good. As we're cleaning up the kitchen (and he's talking trash about his roommate that he doesn't like), I'm eating guacamole. There was some left on the spoon and he was mocking me, so I maybe fed him a mouthful of guacamole. After he stopped laughing, he told me that wasn't very ladylike. I told him that having a pocket does not make you a lady. Because let's face facts, I have a pocket and I'm so not a lady in anyway. This also made him laugh.

We then started watching Reno! 911 the movie because he hadn't seen that either. Again, I say...UNACCEPTABLE. God, there are so many things that I have to fix! We were joking around and being all snuggly. I told him about I thought I was going to have to take a xanax before I can lose all my clothes in front of him. He laughed and told me that I was pretty and had nothing to worry about. Gag. It's really great to have someone that makes you feel like that. I kind of totally missed that. A lot. A whole lot.

It's weird with him. And by weird, I mean totally and completely normal. I was talking to Darcy today and I told her that with every guy before Achilles, I had to like, fight to be acknowledged and cajole people to say that I was pretty or they liked being around me. Achilles just says this stuff freely. And I think whenever he tells me something nice about me, I look at him funny. I don't know how to react to something that I don't have to struggle for. The Brewmaster brought up the fact that I hate guys that are weak and spineless. I don't see this as him being spineless. I know he's not. But I like just...not having to try, you know? I like just being liked because I'm around and I exist and I have things about me that make me likable.

Which of course, brings me to another point of my panicking, which is at what point does he stop liking me? Does he stop once I sleep with him? Does he stop because he doesn't think I'm pretty anymore? OR....should I just fucking stop thinking about this shit and live in the moment and enjoy that this is my life.

Oh, I know!

I should enjoy that this is my life. So I am. Life, thanks for working out for me. I can't believe I ever doubted you.

Then I'll do it too!

Everyone has been blogging today. Or so it seems. I’ve been sitting here for a while thinking about what I wanted to blog about…and I came up with…nothing. Really. Nothing has been happening. I’ve been talking to the guy that I mentioned in the previous post. For lack of a better name, this guy will be dubbed “Shortie”. It’s for lack of a better name. We haven’t talked about his lack of height yet. Maybe he didn’t notice my height on my profile? Should I even bring it up? I think I should let him figure it out for himself.
He’s made a couple of slips here and there that make me not really have good vibes about him. For example, I walked into the coffee table at Summer’s house. Why? Well, why not?! Actually, it was because I’m incapable of not walking into things. I slammed my knee into the corner of the table and that felt FREAKING FANTASTIC. I now have a huge bruise on my kneecap and I scraped it as well. So I told him that I went to the gym and I was kneeling down on the treadmill to tie my sneaker and my knee, it pained me. He goes “oh, my poor baby”. I called him on it and told him that that was a total creeper thing to say and to never say that again. Like, I don’t mind sympathy. I do mind when someone thinks I’m a possession of theirs when they don’t even know me. Don’t even go there, buddy. Other than that, he’s been okay. He was telling me about himself last night, but I was too exhausted to really care. I’ll be away all this weekend so maybe I can figure out what’s going on.

Something weird has been happening to me. Every night, I’ve been having these strange dreams where there’s a guy that I want to be with. And the guy always bears a slight resemblance to someone else that I wanted to hook up with/date/kiss/have babies with. I wake up and I’m so confused as to what happened. The guy in last night’s dream looked like Cheesy Fries. I don’t remember what I was trying to do other than find Not Cheesy Fries. But I woke up and I was convinced that this guy was someone that I actually knew. You know those first seconds of waking up when you can’t separate a dream from what’s really going on? That’s my issue. And every night – a different guy. I’m a slut in my dreams. That takes talent right there.

In sad news, the man with the hot ass from the gym has a girlfriend. Not that I thought that he would ever look my way, but it was fun to look at such an attractive man and imagine. But NO. Last night he was working out with his girlfriend and I was disturbed. She was on one of the weight machines and after every set, he would kiss her. Like, excuse me? You are at the gym. I could have wrecked that girl. I should have told him that if he decided he didn’t want to be the skinny bitch to let me know. But I didn’t. Instead I ran on the treadmill and used that as inspiration to move my ass faster.

That brings me to another, totally unrelated point that I’ve been debating about whether to post or not. So here goes. I’ve mentioned that I haven’t really had sex in over a year (we’re not counting Nacho because there was a party in my pants and he clearly didn’t get the invite). Since graduating from college, I’ve gained some weight. I mean, enough weight that I went up a size in clothing. As I’ve noted, I’m not a skinny girl. And that being said, I’m really insecure about my body. I know guys like girls that are confident and don’t care. That’s something I can fake. I can fake being totally in love with myself because I can fake it well. I’ve been doing it for years. I just don’t want to be one of those fat girls that doesn’t know that they are fat. Like, a fat girl in denial. I don’t want to be that girl. So I try to avoid it as much as possible.
And yes, I know that if someone likes me enough to go out with me, then that clearly doesn’t bother them. I know if someone wants to sleep with me, they don’t care. But I do care. That is why sleeping with an ex-boyfriend never occurred to be to be a bad idea (other than it’s an ex-boyfriend and there could still be feelings and so on and so forth). The ex, would know my body. In the way that I wouldn’t have to hide behind sheets or in the dark. It’s always awkward to be naked with someone you don’t really know. Even when you start dating someone and you start having sex…still awkward.
It comes down to me learning to be comfortable in my own skin again. There was a period when I LOVED my body. It was my senior year of college and I lost a lot of weight before I went back to school. I was dating Boots at that point (still). We hadn’t seen each other at all over the summer. He saw some pictures that were taken and he said “who is that smoking hot blonde chick?” because he had no idea it was me. I told him that he was an asshole and that was me and he was shocked. That, for me, was the point that I had the control back in my hands and I felt confident. That was an amazing time, even though Boots was a TOTAL ASSHOLE. Now I’m trying to drop the weight that I’ve gained so that I can be back at that point and feel like that again. I want to feel like I can control the world, even if I can’t.

Update...sorta

I would update if something had happened. But nothing has. No boys, no love interests, no excitement, NO SEX.

Speaking of that, I've almost gone a year without. Summer's Husband seems to believe that since I'm a girl, I just have to say that I want to sleep with someone and someone will appear. He seems to think it's that easy. It's that easy when you're cute and adorable. It's not that easy when you're not those things. Also, I don't want that anymore. I want a relationship with someone - someone that gets me, someone that appreciates me, someone that wants me. Finding a random guy - he's none of those things.

I'm leaving on vacation soon with Summer and Darcy. The last time the 3 of us went away, Summer got hit on a lot. Like, no one noticed Darcy or I, but becuase of Summer's bling...the guys went after her. I told her that it would be the same situation this time. The guys would see her shiny big rock on her finger and decide that she was the girl to have. I just want to flirt with someone, you know?

And when you speak of flirting...we go back to Boots. Boots. What to say about him? He was talking to me a lot. Like, all the time. And then...he decided he didn't want to talk to me anymore. For no reason. I shouldn't be surprised because he's done that to me before. At the same time, his actions don't jive with his words. I find that so annoying. He needs to mean what he says when he says it. So I called him back a few times over the last almost week and he doesn't answer. That's that. When he decides that he needs me around again, maybe I won't answer. That's what I've been told to do to him. The thing is, I can't be that mean to him. I know I would only be doing to him what he does to me, but I just don't have it in me to be that way. He's got me all confused and I don't know which way is up anymore.

Things I've realized

- I’ve realized that I can be picky with what sorts of guys I talk to and what sorts of guys I kiss. I didn’t know that for a while, but now I get it. Otherwise, I would still be all wrapped up in the first guy that I met. I think that was Footweiner McLovin’, but I could be wrong

- I’m cute. It took me a long time to get here, but if some guy sees a picture of me with my fascinating bio and wants to talk to me, I gotta have something going for me

- My hair is awesome. End of story.

- I don’t have to settle. I don’t. There are things that I will compromise on, but I don’t have to accept what comes my way. I can kick boys to the curb whenever I want

- I can take boys home from bars. No need to do that anymore. Unless he’s really hot. Then it’s okay.

- I don’t NEED a guy in my life. I’ve been single for over a year now and it’s kind of fun. Granted, when everyone I know is getting married or is engaged or is in some form of functional relationship, it’s a bummer. But I’ll find someone.

- There are so many fucking creeps on the internets. I already knew this, but this online dating thing has proven it. I don’t talk about sex to people I really don’t know. I’ll talk about sex to my friends, whether they are people that I’ve known for years or just some online friends I have. I really don’t mind. But if you’re some weird man on the net, I’m not going to tell you I like it in the butt (mostly cause I don’t. That’s an overshare, sorry)

- I finally have my life in some sort of order now, so I can truly be with someone and not have it take over my life. I hope. We’ll see, I suppose

- I’m not one of those girls that can wake up every day and throw on makeup and wear heels and exist as a total girly girl. For a while, I would attempt to do that. Now if I meet a guy, I’ll put on some makeup, sure. But if we’re doing something not makeup worthy, I’ll be in jeans and a t-shirt. That’s the way I am normally. I’m done changing myself to make someone else happy. My happiness matters more than some douchebag guy’s happiness.

- Guys either get my family and become accepted by them or they don’t. My family, however much I don’t like it sometimes, is a part of my life. There are lots of family members to impress. You need to make all of them like you, not just some of them.

- I’m fucking awesome. I’m so awesome. I don’t need a guy to tell me that cause I’ve figured it out myself. And if a guy decides he doesn’t like me, it’s his loss. It’s no fault of mine that he can’t figure out how fucking amazing and generally perfect I am. He can shove it.

Open letter

Dear fucking Beautiful man at the gym,
I almost tripped over the curb when I saw you walk in after me. I was so glad that you were at the gym last night. Whenever you're at the gym, I push myself to work out harder because you're so hot. I would also let you do all sorts of dirty things to me on the treadmill. Or on one of the weight machines. I can think of a few that we would have some fun on. While you were working out your awesomely hot arms, I noticed you had no wedding band. I believe we could have lots of fun. Also, you have the most perfect ass ever. Just sayin'.

XO
Carrie

Guest Blogger!

This is Summer.

Carrie has graciously allowed me to guest blog…because even though I’m
married, it doesn’t mean I don’t encounter my fair share of creeps.

Actually this post is about one of my closest co-worker friends, who is
anything but a creep. Although he exhibited some creep-like qualities when
we were going for a quick walk around the mall at lunch the other day.

We will call him Hampshire, because his family has a vacation home in New
Hampshire. (I’m not as witty as Carrie with the boy pseudonyms)

So Hampshire and I were strolling around Barnes and Noble the other day and
all of a sudden he asks when the husband and I are going to have kids.

Excuse me???

I mean, he was at my wedding and everything, but still. It really is no one
else’s business. And no matter how close I am with a co-worker, I don’t
think I’d ask them anything like that!

I’m 23. Kids are the LAST thing on my mind. I don’t even like kids. (don’t
hate me for it!). I’m assuming my “maternal instinct” will kick in at some
point and I will want kids, but at the moment, no thanks.

When I said as much, he kind of wouldn’t drop the subject and kept saying
things like “really?” or “why not?”

Are you kidding me? I mean, Hampshire was kind of joking around and it was
all pretty light hearted, but still.

Creepy.

Just because a girl is married doesn’t mean she is ready or wanting to drop
everything to get pregnant…actually I am terrified of it.

And furthermore...

Going off the post a few down about how Nacho blew me off...who is he to say I'm a slut? Exactly when did flirting become slutty? I would never call myself a slut. Have I slept with several guys? Yes, I have. And although this is the interwebz, I'm not putting an actual number to that. Is it several dozen guys? No, it's not. I can sleep with whomever I want. Fuck him. But not really, cause he's an asshole.

I was talking with a co-worker today about when she stopped liking Sex and the City and she said it was the episode where Samantha gives the Fed-ex guy a blowjob and Carrie walks in on her. When I thought about that moment, I realized that maybe Samantha is the real slut. She hooked up with all sorts of men, none of them that she knew or cared about. That's not to say that I haven't hooked up with people and not cared, but everyone I hook up with isn't a total stranger. And a good number of the guys that make up the number I'm not saying I dated.

I realize now that starting from the moment that I dated my Weston Footballer, he changed things. I misplaced my virginity after junior prom. Probably not the proudest moment in my life, but since that moment, things have been interesting. I realize now that if I haven't slept with Reaper when I did, then he wouldn't be as big a part of my life as he is. If I never dated Bootcamp boyfriend on and off for two years, I wouldn't have been knocked down more than I could get up. But I also wouldn't have found it within myself to ditch him. Every guy, whether I dated him or just slept with him, made me realize something within my self, as corny and dumb as that sounds. Trying to sleep with with Nacho helped me to prove to myself that someone could just want me on the basis of me being hot that night. I needed that. I needed to know I could attractive someone in that horrible bad animalistic way. And I did. We see how well that went. I totally rule.

At least I'm at a point in my life where I see myself as being amazing and awesome and fantastic and fabulous. It took me a long ass time to get here. And I don't plan on leaving anytime soon.


P.S. On the sex note, if I don't have halfway decent sex by August, a mercy killing may be in order. Seriously guys, that marks a year and I might not be able to handle that as a reality. Seriously.