Taking a blogcation (blog + vacation)...

... til the week of August 10th.

Why?

A few reasons:

• I realized this weekend that all everyone ever asks me about now is whether I am dating someone. My dating life has become my identity. This became painfully apparent on the 4th of July when the first question out of EVERY person's mouth that I hadn't seen in more than a month was, "So, are you dating anyone?" After hearing it, oh, about a hundred times, I was VERY over it. (And still am.) I realize that my dating life is all I talk about here, but in real life I actually do have other things to talk about. Yet my dating life still seems to trump all of them.


• Also this weekend, I learned that one of the guys that I recently wrote about found out about the blog (and his appearance on it). And the only way he could have found out is if one of the handful of my friends who knew his real identity accidentally told him, or that one of them told someone who then told him. The circle of people who knew the guy's real identity was very small, so I know the news came from someone close to me. And while I'm sure it was harmless and/or accidental, it still sort of pisses me off.


• I can't tell you the number of text messages and/or emails I've gotten recently from well-meaning friends telling me that there's a hot guy at [insert location where I am nowhere close to], or that I should check out [location that I'd probably never in a million years go to] to meet cute guys. While I totally appreciate the gesture and the fact that my friends are looking out for me (I know they just want me to be happy), those messages have actually been serving more as a reminder that I'm their only single friend.


• And, the straw that broke the camel's back... I got a FB friend request last week from a guy who contacted me because our moms conspired to fix us up. (I knew nothing about it prior to getting the friend request.) When the situation was further investigated, I discovered that... wait for it.... the only way blogmom knew of this kid was because his mom waited on blogmom at Macy's.

I just sort of feel like my singlehood (and this blog, to some extent) has become too much of my identity lately. I don't really want to be AAB first and foremost in everyone's mind anymore.

So, check back here the week of August 10th. That's when the 50 days' indulgence following my Girl Sweetheart's Daily Prayer is up. (I've been saying the prayer faithfully every day, so let's hope it works!)

Maybe I'll have some positive boy news to report by then. (You know what they say... good things happen when you're not looking for them.)

And if not, hopefully I'll at least feel a little more like myself... and less like "the girl who writes the dating blog."

See you in a few weeks! Stay out of trouble!

From the guy who can't forget me (Grammar Guy)...

... to the guy who doesn't even REMEMBER me (Amnesia Guy).

A few weeks ago, I got a Facebook friend request from a guy I briefly hung out with a couple of years ago. He and I had met at the Winking Lizard in Lakewood while we were both there watching a Cavs game.

That nite, he gave up his bar stool for me, we chatted all nite and then exchanged numbers (and a kiss) at the nite's end.

In the ensuing weeks, we hung out at each others' houses a few times, watching Cavs games and movies. We texted a lot, though we only occasionally talked on the phone. (Go figure.)

I even still have his number in my phone. (Remember my rule about not deleting numbers?)

Fast forward to the past couple of weeks.

I thought it was a little odd that he added me as a Facebook friend, but we did know a couple of people in common so I didn't think it was all that weird.

Until I got this message a day or so after I accepted his friend request:

Hi AAB,

i recently ran into someone that said that you and i went on a date that i cant rmember. You are a beautiful girl and im sure i wouldnt forget that. if we did go on a date please refresh my memory and let me know when and where and please forgive me.

I hope all is well.

Amnesia Guy

(AAB sidenote: I've gotta believe the person who told him that was The Banker, since they knew each other from growing up, which The Banker and I discovered when we were talking one day.)

For mother effin' real? How do you not remember hanging out with someone on a NUMBER of occasions? I mean, I get it if someone's name doesn't necessarily ring a bell. Or if you only saw the person one time. But c'mon.

The kicker is that we hung out no fewer than four times. And, I actually think there were a couple of other times that we ran into each other when we were out with our own groups of friends. But there were at least four times when it was JUST US.

So, I politely wrote him back, told him I was glad that I was so memorable, outlined in great detail the instances we hung out and thought that was the end of it.

Until he wrote back.

And asked me to call him. (His exact message was: call me xxx-xxx-xxxx.)

I didn't. (Eff you. If you can't even remember me, why would I bother?)

So then he wrote back again a couple of days later asking me to please call him because this has been driving him crazy and he just wants to make sure I was right. (His exact words, BTW.)

Um, I was definitely right, Amnesia Guy. When I broke it off with you years ago. Eeeew.

P.S. In case you're wondering, I responded to that last message from him with a big fat eff you. (Actually, I didn't say eff you per se. But I did tell him that I had no interest in rehashing the times we hung out when he couldn't even remember who I was. After, of course, I described in detail what his living room looked like so he knew that I wasn't making shit up. Bitchy? Probably. Necessary? Definitely.)

i don't want 2 git wit u

During the revelry that was the all-girls bachelor party for our friend Brian a couple of weekends ago, I gave my number to a guy who was hanging out near us at the Velvet Dog.

What a mistake.

(And I wasn't even drunk.)

(OK, I wasn't even that drunk.)

Anyhow, he called three times the day after we met (but did not leave a message), then sent me a text the following day:

Hello AAB this Grammar Guy from the roof top saturday night. How u do n what's up wit u

Ummm... that is just all kinds of wrong. (Especially b/c anyone who knows me in real life calls me the Grammar Queen. Even though I take a lot of grammatical liberties when it comes to my blog. Like that past non-sentence, for example.)

Anyhow, I immediately knew I was not interested. But I didn't want to be a complete bitch, so I politely wrote back (with correct grammar) and told him that I had a long day at work and was heading to a meeting for the rest of the nite.

Below is the series of follow-up texts that I received from him (none of which I responded to):

• Jus takin it easy. Call me when your done I want to talk to u. What type if (sic) work u do (sent late last Monday)


• Goodmorning AAB. Hope u have a wonderful day today. When u get a minute give me a call or text. ***Grammar Guy*** (sent last Tuesday morning before 7am -- and, yes, he did sign his name with three stars on either side of it)


• Hi AAB. Give me a call when u get this message. (sent later that same day around 5pm)

He then proceeded to call me TWICE that nite. The last time he called, he left a message and said he wasn't going to call again if I didn't call him back.

(And, P.S., he talks just like he texts.)

I didn't call or text back. So I thought the saga was over. Until I got this doozy on Thursday:

Hi, Always a Bridesmaid. Jus wanted to know if I could meet u somewhere or take u out this weekend.

Now don't get me wrong. I realize that not everyone was an English major in college... but I also can not ever imagine dating someone who talks and/or texts like 50 Cent. I mean, the word "just" has a "t" on the end of it, FYI.

Man, I obviously needed Jorge as a wingman the nite I met the Grammar Guy... to "jus" keep me AWAY from him!

***Always a Bridesmaid***

Once again proving...

... that men and women think TOTALLY differently.

While emailing with a male friend today to finalize our lunch plans for next week, he mentioned that he finally got around to reading my blog after months of teasing me about it.

His response to my recent prayer card post? (You know, the one that is all sweet and talks about being pure and finding a life companion and other virginal stuff? Yeah, that one.) This is what he had to say about it:

do you think there is a prayer card that will help me meet slutty women?

Nice, Doug. And male reader Narm commented on that same post:

Whoa - there is a prayer that also involves 50 days of indulgence? AND it comes with dessert??? What church do YOU belong to.

Sounds like both boys are looking for some sort of dessert (both figurative and real). And come to think of it, I guess I am too... but mine would be in the form of cake. Beefcake.

Praying for my love life... again (again)

I've written before about my religious (but not in a psycho holy roller on the loose kinda way) family sometimes getting extra Catholic on me to help me find a husband.

Well, it appears that blogaunt has taken "Just Date Me for Jesus Christ's Sake June" quite literally and sought some divine dating intervention for me from the big guy upstairs this month.

On Father's Day, blogaunt stopped over with some prayer cards for me and my sissies.

(Interestingly enough, she also brought three desserts over as well... which sort of qualifies as more devilish than angelic three weeks before a beach vacation, doesn't it?)

Anyhow, the prayer card she brought for me was to (what else?) help me find a hubs. And in my attempt to be all sweet and holy, I'll share the prayer with all of you single ladies too.

A GIRL SWEETHEART'S DAILY PRAYER

O Mary, Model of pure love, and therefore of sweethearts, I beseech Thee to direct me in my choice of a future husband. Grant me especially wisdom and deliberation in this choice. Make both my friendship and courtship chaste, unselfish, prudent, thrifty and cheerful. Be my companion in single as well as in wedded life.

Then it says "50 day's Indulgence" at the bottom of the card. What do you suppose that means? That I should say this for 50 days and on day 51 *poof* I have a BF?

(If that's the case, check back here the week of August 10 and let's see what's going on.)

So, I'm going to say this little ditty for the next 50 days and see what happens.

And while I'm at it, I'm gonna try to find the prayer to patron saint of vacation-worthy abs and thighs too...

A (Mc)sizzlin' Saturday

One of my favorite parts about having all my friends get married is the pre-wedding bachelorette bash. I mean, who doesn't love a nice confection in the shape of male genitalia, right?

Well, this past weekend was a first for me in celebrating a friend's pending nuptials. My girlfriends and I actually threw an all-girls bachelor party for our friend Brian (the groom-to-be of the bride we celebrated for last weekend).

Brian has always been like one of the girls (he's the kind of guy who makes you take your shoes off when you walk into his impeccable house), and we've all been friends with him since 'N Sync was cool.

(OK, maybe 'N Sync was never really "cool"... but work with me here...)

Anyhow, we decided to throw a bachelor party for Bri to help him celebrate his last weeks of singledom with his best girl friends (even though we all know deep down that he'll be waaaaaaay better off once he gets hitched).

We hit up Sushi Rock for dinner, gave him some questionable gifts (can you say gay section at Ambiance?) and then surprised him with tickets to see Artie Lange at the Improv (he's a huge Howard Stern fan).

After that, we took the party to (where else?) the roof of the Velvet Dog. Like last weekend, it turned out to be a crazy nite. Lots and LOTS of random conversations. And shots.

When the bar closed, we decided to head to Panini's for a piece (or three) of 'za. And guess who we saw there when we arrived, ladies and gentlemen?

McSizzle.

Yep, he was there with one of the friends whom we had met with him the weekend earlier. The friend immediately recognized us and came over to chat (while McSizzle was otherwise occupied by a blonde in a heinous red satin shorts jumpsuit... I mean, really... where do you even BUY something like that?!?!?).

Once McSizzle said goodbye to the slutty Mrs. Claus wannabe, he came over and chatted with us too. The boys agreed that we should exchange numbers so we could help show them around town. And during the course of that conversation, we also discovered... wait for it... that McSizzle has a long-distance girlfriend.

Aaaaaaaaaaaand there you have the story of my love life.

But at least now I'll never wonder about the "what if" with him, right?

Now if only I could retract that Facebook message... ;)

Who's your daddy?

This Father's Day weekend, I wanted to take some time to recognize the only man in my life right now... blogdad, of course!

It's worth noting that the crazy dance-off blogdad participated in at my friend Michele's wedding a few weeks ago is partly to blame for the fact that he is now hobbling around in a giant plastic cast for the next 6 weeks.

Yep, that's right.

Blogdad has a severe tendon injury (partly) from ass-slapping my friends on the dance floor at a wedding.

Aaaaaaand you wonder where I get it from.

Anyhow, here's hoping this weekend brings me a (sugar)daddy of my own!

(Speaking of potential sugardaddies... no, I have not heard from McSizzle. Don't worry -- you will be the first to know if he emails me back!)