I want to note immediately that I did not weigh in on Memorial Day weekend simply because I was out of town and away from my usual scale; add to that the fact that I ONLY weigh in on Saturdays. Let's face it: I can only bring myself to the scale one day a week, and even that is pushing it. So I will weigh myself in a few days and see where I'm at. I remain optimistic; I can feel some good muscle tone, and my waist looks a lot smoother.
I wanted to take this time to respond to Megan and Brian's recent passages about the "Scientific Analysis of Attraction." My answer is no surprise: I totally agree with Megan.
I consider myself a serial dater. I'm fairly confident enough to sidle up to a gentleman and chat him up - especially when I have a few sips of spirit in me. Here's a hint: This One is a lightweight in the alcohol department. Refer to Easter weekend 2005 for my last heavy drunk. That said, I don't need alcohol to feel attractive. I need drugs.
I kid. And no, it never ends.
But I have to say I'm proud of the eye candy I pick up: Rigoberto the dashing, silver-tongued water delivery guy; Justin, the self-employed trader; Chad, the tattooed Irish punk-lover. There are a bunch of forgotten ones in between, but these I consider my conquests. I saw them, I wanted them, I went out with them. I call that a confidence boost.
Get this - none of these guys panned out. I was taken for a ride by all of them. Rigo had a FIANCE he didn't tell me about for weeks; Justin needed to "concentrate on finding a better job"; Chad just stopped calling after 5 dates (I actually fear he's dead because he was more into me than I was into him).
It's easy to see that I prize looks, but to my defense, I only note their attractiveness because I'm surprised they even gave me the time of day. However, this seeming luck is only outweighed by the fact that none of them stuck with me.
I'm not an easy girl. I don't believe in casual sex. Most of these guys did, and I know that's why nothing happened. I think attractive guys sometimes go for fat chicks because they think we're easy because we have low self-esteem. I have low self-esteem, but I'm not stupid; I won't let that put me in the position to pick up some disease in this city full of casual one-night standers.
In all fairness, though, I can't play pious to the One-Night Standard; I also have a nasty habit of keeping worthy men at a safe emotional distance. I lost two amazing boyfriends to that very same problem. Now they're married to women whom they tout "let themselves be loved".
That's not how I roll...yet.
Maybe that next level will come with massive weight loss. Maybe it will come with holding out for the right person, the right moment, the right atmosphere. Maybe it will come when I least expect it. I know that I'm a romantic, and I'm not going to give up on love.
But if I see one more over-tanned, under-dressed, trixee-ass bitch nagging out her attentive, gorgeous boyfriend for what he's wearing or what he's not saying, I'm gonna start throwing fists. Men of the world, you can be treated better than how your trophy-girlfriend looks.
Take it from me:
So there's that,
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