currylove

Posts Tagged ‘greek

He is so hot that last night, when we were out, he had some random guy ask if he’s a model. Greek said he’s not, and the guy gave him his number in case he wanted to pursue modeling.

You know how many times someone has asked me if I’m a model? Zero. Never. I often get told I’m pretty, but never have I been asked if I am a model.

So, we hung out last night with his friends and it was fun. Had a good time, nothing super exciting. I got super drunk off almost a bottle of wine, but still, nothing happened.

Tonight, he came out with me and my friends. And he’s fucking useless. He told me his friend last night was interested in me. That’s great, but then there had to be a conversation between the two of them were Greek had to say he wasn’t interested. That’s the only way that could work.

So I asked him, “Are you not interested?” and he laughed and then, immediately, we were going to another bar. And so I never got the answer.  And I didn’t get to clarify that I don’t want to hang out with him. Jesus Christ. Is it so hard to come over at 2am and leave by 4? I don’t think so.  Just fuck me and leave my place. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t care about your dreams or aspirations. I really just want to have sex.

But that’s not happening, so I guess it’s on to plan F. I don’t what that plan is, but good God. It has to work better than this one.

Advertisements

So Greek had asked me to go to a Wine Festival this past Saturday but I told him I was busy.  I just couldn’t. After our stupid anticlimactic coffee date, I really could not be bothered to spend an afternoon with him. Seriously – he’s hot, he’s got amazing biceps, he’s nice and smart … and I AM SO BORED WHEN WE HANG OUT. What is wrong with me? I meet a guy who is nice and sincere and I’m complaining about it. This is more my problem than his, I know this, I just can’t figure out why I’m not more excited when he wants to hang out.

Anyway, he texted me yesterday to ask how my weekend was, and I responded with the customary “It was great! How was yours?” And he said his was good and did I want to do something Friday night?

YES. I WANT TO DO YOU. BUT DON’T TALK.

That’s what I wanted to text back, but I didn’t. I actually haven’t responded at all yet…  This is it. This is his last chance.  I’ve even been cleaning so we can come back here.

Put up or shut up.

Ha. That goes for me too. At least Friday evening may lead into Friday night which may lead into Saturday morning (but only if he promises morning sex)…. if this doesn’t work out, I’m done trying with him. (Oh, and clearly, desire/need to get laid won out.)

 

He’s so young that he thinks Pierce Brosnan was the best James Bond.

I have to now decide if my desire to get laid is greater than my desire to not get laid by someone with bad taste.

 

 

Met Greek yesterday for coffee. Well, he had coffee, I had Bellinis. Why not? (My ever expanding waistline is why not, but that’s another post…)

So we chatted and caught up on the past few months and he was telling me about how he just had to end a ‘friendship’ (more than he was letting on, I think) with this girl because she thought they were more than they were. He said they were just friends, but they spent every weekend together and she apparently started developing feelings for him, so he thought they should stop hanging out as much.

Ok, WTF. Just… why are we discussing this? I DON’T CARE. If this conversation doesn’t end with his pants coming off (Spoiler alert: IT DID NOT) then I don’t really understand… I’m not looking for a relationship. I guess I haven’t made this clear, but it seemed bitchy to just say that during this conversation about another girl.

Like my friend T said, “Who needs more friends at this point in our lives? It’s hard enough to keep up with the ones we already have.” It’s so true!

Anyway, we chatted a bit more and then paid for our own drinks. SO NOT A DATE.

He texted today saying he was glad we met up and hoped I had a good rest of my Saturday. That’s sweet, but whatever. It’s time to move on, I just don’t know to who…

Greek texted me on Wednesday: “Hey! Haven’t heard from you in awhile. How are things going?”

We texted back and forth for a bit and it ended with him asking if I was free this weekend. YES! FINALLY! I AM GOING TO GET LAID!!!!! It’s been since September. Seriously. I NEED TO GET LAID.

Told him I was available and he writes back, “Great! How about coffee, Saturday at 3pm?”

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

This is not what I signed up for when I decided I was going to chat with him… I want hot, horny, 24 year old sex. NOT A COFFEE DATE.

Sigh. Basically, I’m in the “grandma”  slot and he’s probably got a real date later tomorrow night, with someone his age.

So much stuff. I have SO much stuff. I don’t know where it all came from. I mean, I know I bought it at some point, probably when it was on clearance, but why didn’t I stop!?!? I’m on an absolute moratorium from buying anything except food from now on. [UPDATE 2/21: My moratorium lasted for less than 12 hours. Went to DSW at lunch and ended up with 2 new gorgeous pairs of shoes… and then Ross on the way home and got 2 shirts. Sigh. My name is CurryLove and I’m a shopoholic.]

Since I’d been spending weekends at my family’s place, everything that used to be to properly put away somehow exploded into the bedroom, the living room, the guest room… everywhere. Just like I don’t know how it showed up in my flat, I also don’t know how it escaped from the drawers and closets, but it did.

Being heart-broken really leaves little energy for just basic ‘living’  – you know, doing laundry in a timely manner and then actually putting that laundry away. Washing the sheets. Cleaning the bathrooms. And since I wasn’t around on the weekends, the last thing I wanted to do for the past few months was come home from work and clean. Instead, I came home and ate and watched tv and cried and didn’t really do much else, and that is exactly how my place ended up a disaster zone and I gained a few pounds. Maybe more than a few… My stomach needs its own sports bra at this point.

I was out Saturday night with some friends and had invited this boy that I like. He’s fun and smart and cute and we met at Halloween, before British and I ended things, because again, I guess I always knew deep-down that I couldn’t put all my eggs in the UK basket. This one is also international, from Greece, and super cute. Also possibly super young if I’ve done the math right… there’s an approximate 10 year age difference, but  I haven’t asked how old he is and he hasn’t asked me. We’ve hung out a few times and I’m not really sure where it’s headed or if he’s interested romantically – I can’t actually figure it out.

Anyway, he met up with me and some of my friends at a local bar. My guy friends actually loved him, since he helped by playing wing-man for them.

My friend R was talking to Greek and he mentioned a few times, “Oh, me and CurryLove got back for so long! CL – how long have we known each other??  8 years about??”

Me, with Greek standing right there: “Yeah, just about”

As soon as Greek with to the bathroom, me to R: “Oh my god. Can you shut up about how long we’ve known each other?? I think he knows how old I am but we don’t have to reinforce it all night.”

So the night went on, and all 3 of my friends (2 guys and 1 girl (no pizza place) – and with that, I just dated myself even more) come up to me at some point and in an incredibly surprised tone say, “Wow. He’s really good looking!”

WTF. Why is everyone so surprised at how hot he is? I was slightly offended by the end of the evening.

The night ends, he walks me to the car and we hug goodbye. No kiss! No nothing! Now here is where it gets tricky – R had picked me up  and we’d gone to the bar together. I could’ve played my cards right and asked Greek to take me home.

But I didn’t… know why? BECAUSE MY PLACE WAS A FUCKING MESS! How can I be sexy and romantic with an incredibly hot guy when there are shoes everywhere, the kitchen’s a mess, my bed is half-bed, half-exploded closet? There was no way I could’ve shoved any of it anywhere, even if I’d wanted to.

Being lazy translates to everything, not just the messy flat. I hadn’t shaved ANYTHING for awhile. Legs haven’t seen the light of day in about a month (since Kenya), and I’m pretty sure that was also the last time they saw a razor. My cha-cha has been in mourning as well. Let’s be honest, British was the last boy I slept with and that was September. Enough said.

Basically, there was nothing clean enough, neither me nor my place, that would have let me bring anyone over.

I started working on this today so the next time opportunity presents itself, I can seize it by the balls. Literally.


Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 280 other followers

Archives

%d bloggers like this: