Category Archives: men

He’s Just Not That Into You!

Ok I know this film came out a long time ago.

However, the fact that I have ADD, and, like, a life, means that I rarely get to see films, much less romantic comedies.  That said, I meant to see this film FOREVER, because it is one of my favourite books and probably the reason why all of my girl friends’ boyfriends hated me in college.  Whateva.

Anywho. The film was supa funny and is now one of my favourite films because it was hilariously awkward…in fact, it was even TOO AWKWARD at times.  Remember that I have a high awkwardness threshold friends, so when I say it was intense, I mean this bitch was whack.

Anyway, because I LOVE this book and because apparently some bitches is whack, I am devoting this posting to all my crazy bitches out there.

And in case you were wondering, my love of this book stems from the fact that I dated a guy who was just not that into me for about three years. I know, how tragic.

Well this is why I now like to run my mouth about keeping men in line, because sadly I failed to get the point that homeboy was not into me for way too long, and I know I’m not the only one who has done this.

About the book: it is set up according to excuses.  It is outlined by the excuses guys make because making excuses is easier than saying “I’m just not that into you.” As they put it in the book: He is a man made up entirely of your excuses.  And the minute you stop making excuses for him, he will completely disappear from your life.

Unfortunately, I do not know where my copy of this book is, I may have given it away or it may be in storage, so I obtained some excerpts and interpreted them accordingly.  You’re welcome.

The “He Is Super Busy Right Now” Excuse

Don’t let the “honeys” and the “babys” fool you.  His sweet nothings are exactly that.  They are much easier to say than “I’m just not that into you.”  Remember, actions speak louder than, “There’s no cell reception where I am right now.”

Calling when you say you’re going to call is the very first brick in the house you are building of love and trust.  If he can’t lay this one stupid brick down, you ain’t never gonna have a house, baby.  And it’s cold outside.

The “But He Just Needs Some Time” Excuse

Cut your losses and don’t waste your time .  Why stay in some weird dating limbo when you can move on to what will surely be better territory? Don’t want to hear it?  Fine.  Here’s the answer you’re looking for, “Hang in there, baby.  He’s not the loser everybody’s telling you he is.  If you wait and keep your mouth shut and call at exactly the right time and anticipate his moods and have no expectations about communication or your own sexual needs, you can have him!”  But please don’t be surprised if he dumps you or continues to drag you through a completely unsatisfying relationship.

The “He Is Just Shy” Excuse

Men, for the most part, like to pursue women.  We (men) like not knowing if we can catch you.  We feel rewarded when we do.

The “He Is Worried About Damaging The Friendship” Excuse

He will always be able to play the “friend” card on you.  He only  has to be responsible for the expectations of a friend, rather than the the far greater expectations of a boyfriend.  He’s got the ultimate situation: a great friend with all the benefits of a girlfriend, whom he can see or not see whenever he wants to.  He may be one of your closest friends, but I’m sorry to say … as a boyfriend, he’s just not that into you.

Beware of the word “friend”.  It can often be used by men or the women that love them to excuse the most unfriendly behavior.  Personally, when I’m picking friends, I like the ones who don’t make me cry myself to sleep.

The “He Wants To Take It Slow” Excuse

I don’t want to be “sort of dating” someone.  I don’t want to be “kinda hanging out” with someone.  I don’t want to spend a lot of energy suppressing my feelings so I appear uninvolved.  I want to be involved.  I want to be sleeping with someone I know I’ll see again because they’ve already demonstarted to me that they’re trustworthy and honorable — and into me.

Alright I think my place in Heaven has now been reserved.  Please think about these wise words from Liz and Greg the next time your lova starts acting up, and if you are into praying or that sort of thing, I’d appreciate you putting in a good word for me because I have been sinning a lot lately and I am a little concerned.

x C

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The Bubble

Did anyone see 30 rock this week?  I absolutely love that program–The Office was really the only television show I was into, and then I realised that not watching Tina Fey’s program when I have an EPIC girl crush on Tina Fey was just odd.   The point is, YOU SHOULD WATCH IT! (Or at least tivo it with sincere intentions.)

I digress.  In this episode Tina (or Liz as I believe she is called on the show) was dating this doctor who thought he was a magnificent cook, a fabulous tennis player, blah blah bnlah blah…well it came to light that he actually sucked at everything.  Everyone was just being nice to him because he’s a sexy docta!

As of late I have been having a bit of an identity crisis and this episode made me wonder if I, too, have been living in a bubble.

This started last weekend.  I had to spend time with Lover’s awful sister.  His whole family is lacking in coolness if you ask me (and just in case you DO read this my dear, please remember that loving someone does not mean loving their family! :) ) but homegirl takes the fucking cake.  She tells these exasperatingly long stories and really just rubs me the wrong way.  Generally, I make a lot of effort to avoid people that don’t please me…but this is one thing I could not get out of.

Every time I said something, it was like she had this whole story about why what I said was wrong, or how I should rethink what I said.  I mean, honestly?  I know I have a big mouth.  I know that may be bothersome at times…but I’m over it.  We all have our idiosyncrasies, and it is what it is.  Why the hell does she even care what I like?   I don’t expect anyone else to agree with me or think in the same manner…and even though I might not like certain things, it doesn’t mean I dislike the PEOPLE associated with them. Everyone is different, bitch! Come off it!

She was just so utterly bothersome, but I think I’ve made my point that we just didn’t get on well.

However, she is a bit tricky, because she succeeded in making me think about some of the things that she said to me, almost a week later–and this is why I avoid people who have studied psychology extensively.  I had a lover who also did, and like homegirl, he used his knowledge mostly for EVIL.

So now I’m wondering if I, too, have lived in a bubble which only includes people who love me…and it’s true, I really hate interacting with people whom I have not endeared myself to in one way or another.

Now I feel that many of my perceptions could just be reflections of people telling me what I want to hear!  What a horrific thought!

I think we all have our own bubbles to some extent, but perhaps some people are more insulated, so to speak, than others.

What do you think?  Do you believe in the idea of ‘The Bubble’ confusing your self-concept?  Do you think YOU live in a bubble?

I’d love to know!

x C

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best marketing strategy ever

I’m not a fan of reality tv.

I did watch the first Bachelorette and quite enjoyed it, but I believe that was primarily due to the fact that I was about 13.  Actually–that isn’t true–I’d probably watch a ton of shit tv if it weren’t for the fact that I have severe ADHD that prevents me from boob tubing it for more than about 30 minutes.  But the point is, this post is about The Bachelor.  (Accordingly, I apologize in advance if I don’t have my facts straight!)

I cannot imagine my outrage if I’d actually watched the show, but holy media saturation, batman!  I’m pretty sure that I’ve heard about what happened about 30 times within the past few days.

So, if you did not hear or are unfamiliar with the idea behind the show, the shortened version is that homeboy (‘The Bachelor’) lives out many a male fantasy with a harem of women who are grossly smitten by him from day one.  He dates them, they cry, he gives them roses and kicks them to the curb, they cry some more and declare homeboy The One.  One of these lucky women (barf) gets chosen by ‘The Bachelor’ and he proposes.

Well, this time, they did not walk hand in hand off set only to break up 8 months later.  This time, they broke up a month later.

But that isn’t all my friends.  No, that is NOT all.  Homeboy declared that he was just not that into the girl he’d PROPOSED to only a few weeks earlier, and decided that the lady he sent packing was indeed the one he should have chosen.

Disregarding the obvious stupidity of the entire ordeal, I have to say that there is no way that could be legit–as in, not manufactured by the producers of the program.  Who in the hell cared about the Bachelor a few weeks ago?  (Okay, I suppose there is a group of single 20-something women splitting their time between drooling over engagement rings and thinking about this program.)  But now, it has been getting so much attention…mostly because of the sheer ridiculousness of it, but even so, there’s no such thing as bad publicity my friends.

The dude from the show claims he simply had a “change of heart” or whatever.  I have a few things to say about this.  Number one: not only is he 32, but he has a child.  What kind of person is he that he plans to marry a woman and then ditches her for another?  I don’t really believe he would be so irresponsible with such a serious choice, especially given the fact that he is rather old and is making choices not only for himself, but for his son.  I would like to make another point–and I would like to thank People Magazine for assisting me with this:

WHAT IN THE HELL IS HE WEARING????

No, really.  REALLY.  How could 30 women be into a guy who dresses like a Fall Out Boy reject turned Abercrombie model??

I mean okay, he probably didn’t choose his own clothing on the show?  I pray this is the case and some overzealous costume designer (who is obviously oh-so-talented, to land such an enviable position!) misperceived the fact that he is not cool enough or–okay I’ll say it–young enough to pull that shit off.  He seriously looks like a fool.

I just had to let that out.

Anyway, I give hella props to the people behind this stunt because not unlike most people (since I don’t think the show is too highly rated), it takes a lot for me to think about The Bachelor and I’ve not only thought about it, but become interested in it, and even written a weblog about it.  And that, my friends, is the magic of marketing!

x C

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emo

Because I am a diarist, I can tell you that I am extra emo tonight (this morning)–quite possibly because I am doing yucky mathematics that I’ve been blowing off foreva;

Ergo, I don’t really have time to write, except to say that love/hate relationships suck.

Big time.

Don’t you agree??

x C

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f my life

Firstly, if you have missed out on the brilliance of this website, then I suggest you check out fmylife.com!  It is quite hilarious, and totally my sense of humour, as there is nothing I find more amusing that the absurdity of everyday life.

Secondly…my apologies for being a delinquent blogga.  I spent the majority of last week paying for my one day of freedom with extreme productivity and also dealt with a bit of an internal conflict regarding the concept of keeping a weblog.  But I’m chillin’ now…so it is all good.

Thirdly, the past week or so has been overflowing with manly misadventures so  I suppose I shall update you on what has gone down!

I made the rainbow cake (which will be a tale for another day) for Mason and he kind of freaked out…he made such a big deal out of it that I didn’t really know what to say or do.  I am generally immune to awkwardness, but I didn’t really think it was a huge deal, and he acted like I’d given him a kidney.  Marley told me this was because I was ‘clearly declaring my love for him, à la Napoleon Dynamite’ (in the film Napoleon’s sidekick with a poor grasp of the English language, Pedro, suggests that in order to ask a girl to a dance, Napoleon “bake her a cake or something”).  This left me feeling like a big dork, a sentiment that was only made worse the day after Mason’s party when my coworker Theresa commented that Mason ‘looked like he was going to cry’ when I gave him the cake.  Not exactly the reaction I was going for.

This strange situation was further compounded by the fact that I had to work Saturday night–I had volunteered to work on Valentine’s Day because I’m not the biggest fan of said cheesefest and especially of the behaviour it tends to induce in Mr. Martini, although I was no more interested in spending the “holiday” with any of the other men in my life right now.  Not to mention, I knew most of my coworkers were in relationships so I thought it would be nice if they could have the night off to recite poetry and listen to Sinatra.  See, I’m not entirely bitter!

However, Mason switched shifts with someone so that we could work together Saturday night…so that ‘my Valentine’s Day wouldn’t completely suck’.  I thought this was very sweet, and was quite excited that we’d be spending the evening together–even if it were to be spent at work.  After the cake incident, though, I was a bit weirded out about this, especially since he has a girlfriend–I imagine they are on the verge of breaking up, but nonetheless, I’m not trying to spend singles awareness day with someone who is not single…

Then there’s Mr. Martini, who spent the weekend here despite my numerous reminders that I would not be available on Saturday, and true to form, planned a super over-the-top date for Friday night.

Unfortunately, one of my very best friends was dumped by her EVIL boyfriend on Thursday.  Yup, you read that correctly.  Her boyfriend of five years broke up with her right before Valentine’s Day.  I cannot tell you how angry this makes me, but I am comforted by the fact that I know karma will come back to bite him in his sorry ass.

So, considering that my friend was feeling a bit psycho-crazy, I thought it best to not leave her alone Friday night…however, I also felt awful cancelling on Mr. Martini.  So, I told him what was up, and because he is so crazy awesome, he said that she could come along.  I also felt like getting her out and about and wined and dined would be good for her morale.  And my dear, sweet, Mr. Martini was so very cool about it and even got roses and chocolate for my friend.  How nice is that?  I was really happy that he was so nice about her crashing because we hadn’t seen each other in a while and I think he was looking forward to some intense romance…but, he was perfectly kind and understanding, he even listened to my friend moan throughout the entire evening and was totally sincerely sympathetic and comforting.  It made me appreciate him so much more, because I know he isn’t particularly fond of this friend and we haven’t been on the best terms, and the fact that he was so sweet about the whole thing was just incredibly endearing.

Blah blah blah, this entry is boring me…

To sum things up, Mason and I had fun making fun of the yucky couples on Valentine’s Day, and my girlfriend joined in, as she chilled at the coffee shoppe all night so she would not be ‘drowning in an ocean of tears’ as she so nonchalantly put it.  Then, the three of us went out and drank massive amounts of tequila and continued to have a number of laughs at the expense of Cupid et al.

However, tequila has long been an enemy of mine, something I conveniently forget all-too-often, and upon approaching Mr. Martini’s hotel, I felt the uncontrollable impulse to tell the cab driver I needed to get out.  It is true, I showed up at my (ex) lover’s hotel room at 2 am on Valentine’s Day, exceptionally intoxicated.  How tragic am I?

Mr. Martini was awake and seemed pleased to see me, although I do believe he was somewhat taken aback by my drunken state as I tend to be on my best behaviour in his presence.  I don’t recall much but I believe I went to sleep straightaway, presumably after confessing my undying love and devotion to him.  The next morning, I awoke quite late and probably looking somewhat reminiscent of roadkill, to an awesome champagne breakfast (I obviously skipped the bubbly) and Mr. Martini smirking at me and inquiring as to when we were going to ‘talk about last night’.  I believe I told him “never”, and left it at that–truthfully, I kind of wish that Mr. Martini had skipped the very sweet gesture of ordering breakfast because I was probably blushing throughout the meal and really, really just wanted to leave.

But it gets better.  I arrived at work yesterday to discover that Mason and my friend had spent the night together, ‘but nothing happened.’  My friend confirmed this supposed innocence, but  it’s kind of the latest turn-off in a string of unappealing actions for Mason–not least of all because I think it highly inappropriate for someone with a girlfriend to be sharing a bed with anyone…and certainly not my best friend who just had her heart broken.  Although he tells me “she said she just didn’t want to be alone” and he “felt bad”, to me this screams of shadiness.  Perhaps I am imagining it though…maybe they’re both just oddballs. In any case, it makes me think to myself, “fuck my life”.

So tonight I must face Mr. Martini…and I am really embarrassed because I unfortunately have very little recollection of the other night.  Boo!

…f my life. :)

I hope everyone out there in blogga-land had a fantastic Valentine’s Day, devoid of drunken debauchery and intoxicated impromptu sonnets!

xx Charlee

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curses!

Ladies and gentlemen of the internet, I feel as though I am cursed!  The recent turn of events in my life has me questioning the possibility of someone performing black magic upon me; I am legitimately half-way serious about this suspicion.

One recent curse is my newfound semi-ambitious attitude, which prompted me to take a job instructing undergraduates–why is this a curse you ask?  Well, I suppose the true curse is my laziness, because I took the job so late that the subjects I would have enjoyed teaching were not available and I am now stuck reciting calculus.  Unfortunately, my dim-witted arse was unable to make the necessary neurological connections to come to the conclusion that I’m not especially qualified for this position because I have not done calculus in quite some time–therefore, the lack of calculus combined with my cannabis-damaged memory has really been cramping my style this week.

So now I have tons of studying to do, as I can hardly even remember how to take the derivative of something.  That’s actually not a joke.  Sad, right? (I know there are some math geeks out there!)

Not to mention I made the poor choice of going out tonight instead of getting work done, I have to work tomorrow, and perhaps most foreboding–I must rise at 8 am.  Clearly this is the result of witchcraft.

Also, to update you on my misadventures: I texted Mr. Martini to say I wasn’t sure what I wanted from him.  Straightforward and honest is always the way to go, right?  Wrong.  He sent me a text that said: “Well let me know when you figure it out.”  Psh!! Perhaps he didn’t intend for that to come off with an air of attitude, but it did, and I’m bothered by it because Mr. Martini is usually very chill, unlike the excessively moody men I’ve had the misfortune of spending time with in the past–and I am not into it.  At all.

Things have been weird with BC as well, and I feel as though I might be in a bit over my head.  We’ve been spending quite a bit of time together and talking a lot–which is cool, because he’s a friend and I know he’s going through a hard time, and I did sort of miss him.  But, the other aspect of the equation is that we’re sleeping together and that means lots of sleepovers and snuggling and couple-y things, which I’m not altogether comfortable with.  One of my friends told me my “radar of commitment-phobia” is unnecessarily going off, and I think he was right–I have no reason to be getting stressed out over this because we’re just hanging out and having fun (even if that entails breaking the booty call code).  Right?  Right.

This is simply further evidence of the dark-sided stuff going on in my life!  (major love to you if you know what that phrase is a reference to)

Furthermore, insomnia has continued to be an intense issue for me.  Needless to say, this is very unhealthy and worrisome!  And also further evidence of my thesis.

Curses!  I am cursed.

xx Charlee

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I’m so vain??

Haha, an old lover used to sing that Carly Simon song to me all the time.  Alas, he was incorrect in his accusations because I am not vain.  In fact, I think I am less vain than most women out there!

Anyway I’d like to apologize for my minor freakout blog postings yesterday–I was really caught off guard by Mr. Martini sending me such a forward message, not to mention the fact that insomnia interferes with proper brain function.

However, I have still not responded to Mr. Martini because I just don’t know what to say–I feel a bit rude, but he had to know when asking me that I may not respond.

On to the present moment, in which I am struggling with my vanity.  I generally don’t fancy myself a very superficial person, but BC has been texting me today and wanting to go out tonight, and whilst pondering this possibility, I realised that I would not be pondering it if it were not for his extreme hottness.  Which is sad, I think.

In my defense, I have gone out on dates before with guys who were amazingly beautiful, but whom conversing with made me want to barf.  Hence, I did not go on second dates with them.  So I’m not entirely hopeless.

And BC is cool.  He’s an interesting and intelligent guy–it’s just that, being the self-aware chick that I am (read with sarcasm), I know if he were not so devastatingly good-looking, I wouldn’t be into him.  I guess it kind of makes sense though because I’ve already established that I’m not into his personality…

Hmph.  Sorry to burden you, dearest weblog reader, with my manly ruminations–I’m starting to feel like I’m writing chick lit.  This is not a good feeling!  However, I am going through various phases of uncertainty regarding the men in my life so to write about it is a natural thing and I think (?) somewhat helpful in fleshing out my thoughts.

Anyway I’m posting up in a coffee shop right now (not my own) because I’ve decided to take a few courses this semester and I’m waiting around this part of town until they start–I’ve always wanted to learn some extra languages in my spare time, and I realised (a) there’s no time like the present and (b) my lazy ass is probably never going to get on that unless I have a class forcing me to do so.  So I’m taking Spanish and ASL (I already speak French)–I’d like to take Arabic, but I thought perhaps that would be too ambitious with my other commitments at this time.

So what do you think?  Does giving BC the time of day simply because he’s hot make me vain?

I think it does…might have to call the ex and tell him he was right after all…

xx Charlee

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