No One Seems To Be Forgetting

Maybe everything I write in here will be used against me.  Maybe I am just making the already daunting task of dating that much harder on myself because any man that wants to know me can simply type my name into a search engine and discover pretty much everything about me.  They will learn my interests and hobbies, my career, about my friends and family, and my relationship history.  Hell, it's become public knowledge, at no one's fault but my own, that I have a bizarre fetish for choking.  Oh well, it's already been published.  It's out there - and people can not unread it. 

So I went out with this guy the other day.  I don't know if it would qualify as a date, as much as just "grabbing beers".  I was nervous, like I get when I go out with men and I have to try to be all charming and witty and not talk about things like ex-boyfriends or being choked out.  We were having a really nice time.  Which I was a bit surprised by, I felt like in this particular pairing I was going to be too dominate (when am I not too dominate though?).  As the evening was coming to an end, and we were evaluating where a night of drinking and banter would leave us, his analysis of the situation caught me off guard.  And not exclusively because he wasn't trying to get his hand up my shirt.

Outside of a few other minor setbacks in our relationships to one another, he had said that it was evident that I am still hung up on my exboyfriend.  I don't even know if he can be called an exboyfriend, as much as that guy I wasted a large majority of the last year on.  Is there a title for that? Oh yes, I do believe its an HSF.  Regardless, this upset me.  Because I had been extra careful not to discuss HSF any more than prompted to while we were out.  So I couldn't quite figure out what he was basing this on.  Then it occurred to me that for as long as this guy has known me he has been exposed to my blogs, my facebook, my twitter - so absolutely would it be fair for him to think that.

So am I still hung up on my ex?  Well, it was less than 2 weeks ago that he was literally inside me.  So maybe, yeah, a little.  Not to mention it has become increasingly hard to get over him with having to see his stupid sandy blonde head every time I have to put a trombone on the delivery shelf.  So after this particular gentleman left for the evening, with not so much as a good night kiss, my anger and red wine got the best of me - and I expressed to HSF that he needed to find a new job.  I am not going to miss opportunities to connect with new people because my social media profiles read me like an open book, and sends giant red flags to the universe that this is still an issue in my life.  He needs to go, or I need to stop expressing every last emotion I carry with me on the internet.  One of those things is not going to happen.  And it doesn't involve making minimum wage whilst vacuuming clarinet cases.

But with the HSF bullshit aside, I am still going to have to come to terms with what men are able to deduct about Katie Keller from the internet.  Specifically this blog.  I mean, this poor guy who shared 3 beers and half of one shot with me on a Wednesday night probably didn't know he would inspire an entire blog entry.  But he did.  And that's the risk you run when you spend time with me romantically or otherwise.  Hell, a conversation with Curtis just last week provoked a currently unfinished blog entitled "Blow Job Queen".  I write my life.  I make no apologizes for that.  But now I'm finding that it is probably hurting me more than anyone else.  Except for the guy that smelled like hamsters.  I still think I hurt him more.

HSF On The JOB

I have written the beginning of about 6 different blogs all around my birthday last week.  I was covering a variety of topics - my dry spell from sex, turning 25, finding "the one" - I had a million things I wanted to say that I just couldn't seem to carryout to completion.  But now I sit here, with really only one thing on my mind to talk about.  And it's almost embarrassing that I am back in this place to talk about it at all.  But I know as my fingers are sliding across this keyboard that I will start and finish these thoughts, because they are pulsing through me stronger than my feelings on any of the previously mentioned topics.

Let's talk about HSF for a minute.  To give a brief synopsis of where things left off, we had played the "together but not really together" game since July of last year.  And as I have very openly discussed in this blog, was challenged by being in a relationship with a complete and total lack of definition.  I played it out through the winter and into spring.  By the time he had come home for spring break, I placed down an ultimatum: I was by no means asking him to put a ring on it, but if we were going to continue spending time together and sleeping together I needed to know we were exclusive to one another.  He nodded his head, compliantly, to which I quickly learned was to ensure he would continue to get laid over the holiday break.  I had had enough at this point, told him that I deserved better - that I wanted a real committed relationship, and we ended it.

For two people that couldn't seem to stay away from or keep their hands off of one another for months, we went in completely opposite directions and I prided myself on my ability to not look back.  To not stalk his various internet profiles.  I was legitimately ready and trying, actively, to get over this kid.  9 months was already too long to invest time with someone who at the end of the day was just not willing to give me what I want.

Alright, so now that we are caught up there, let me tell you about the completely retarded decision I made when it came back to surface that HSF had applied for a job at my work.  And when we were together, this sounded like the best plan ever.  Flash forward 2 months, we aren't speaking, and I am being asked whether or not I mind if HSF takes the position.   "Of course he can still take it" I said.  "It won't matter at all" believed no one.  He was going to be coming home from school anyways, and I knew that was going to suck.  How much worse could it possibly be having to work with him 5 days a week?  Exponentially worse - in case you were wondering.

So he's been home for 3 days, has worked 2 days, and we've already slept together again once.  Nice work, Keller.  Bang up job upholding the progress you have struggled to make in getting over this kid for the past 60 days.  Straight out the window it went, along with my self-respect and enjoyment of coming into work.  I am being mildly dramatic.  But I should have known better to not poke this barely sleeping emotional beast.  I of course still care about the kid, that was the only reason there was no real hesitation when I was asked if he could still take the job.  I want him to have the job.  I know its a good job, I like the people he will be working with, and it will help him make money over the summer.  But I can't do this again.  I know that our relationship has not changed, he as a person has not changed, and by him working here I am doing nothing but creating opportunities for him to trick me into thinking any of this is a good idea.

I'm a big girl, though.  And because I am self aware enough to recognize this as a slippery slope for myself, it is my responsibility and mine only to coexist at work with him, and leave our relationship there.  I guess what stings - all strong independent Katie aside - is that this kid crushed my heart.  I really, so genuinely, gave him my heart.  I would have done anything to make a relationship with him work.  I liked him enough to play by his rules for as long as I possibly could.  When he decided that he couldn't give me what I wanted, I was fucking devastated.  Now everyday when I punch in, I have to look at the face of the boy that broke my heart, and fight with everything in me to be the bigger person and allow him to have a summer job, drama free.  Knowing that it will never be that easy for me.

Chelsea said it beautifully, that when I decided it was okay to let him work here it was that part of me that was still hoping things could be different.  Watching that reality come crashing down is almost harder than when we walked away the first time.  So - it's time for distractions bro.  Lots and lots of distractions, in the way of long nights on the couch with Curtis, comedy shows with Matt, girls nights and Grays Anatomy with Erin.  And as many ridiculous weekend long adventures Chelsea and I can pencil in between our schedules.  I am 25 years old now, I'm not looking to waste any more time than has already been lost.

Half The Man I Hoped He'd Be

I feel confident in saying that I have gotten to a point in my life where I don't feel like I need to be in a relationship the way that I used to in years past.  I know that I will be just as happy being single as I would be with someone else right now, which has made dating post HSF a very different experience for me.  I am just looking to have fun.  And if one of these dudes ends up being outstanding company, well then they get to get laid on the regular and I get free meals until one of us gets bored.  Because even at 25, I know that I am not in the place in my life that I want to necessarily be when I finally settle down and tie the knot.

With that being said, I feel like it's fair to say that I am still a bit shallow when it comes to men.  And I would normally feel bad admitting that, but it's the reality of the situation that I want to be stupid attracted to the men I choose to be with.  I don't mean in that in a conventional way that he needs to resemble Colin Farrell or James Deen.  I mean that I need to want to tear his clothes off.  And that feeling of wanting to tear someone's clothes of is usually defined after a conversation or two.  In fact with HSF, I wasn't even that attracted to him right out the gate.  I remember vividly one night having a conversation with him, and it was like I had blinked and all of a sudden he looked exactly like Chase Crawford to me. 

With Charlie I wasn't attracted to him at all after our first two dates and I broke it off entirely.  Then we, for some reason, developed the habit of these hours long late night phone calls, and by the next time I had seen him a month later - it was like dating an entirely different person.  A person who I really wanted to tear the clothes off of.  So when I say what I am about to say, I want you to understand that I am not all that superficial.  That the personality, intelligence and sense of humor will always matter most of all.  Even though all girls say that, I actually mean it.  But there are some physical attributes that I am looking for in a man that I am not ready to give up on just yet.

I went out with this guy last week who has been campaigning to date me for about a month now.  We have exchanged an excessive amount of emails - and I felt comfortable enough to know in the very least it would be a nice conversation and free meal.  I didn't think there would be a romantic spark on my end, pretty much before I even agreed to go out with him.  I didn't get the nervous butterflies every time he texted, and I had put off going out with him for such a long time.  When Katie Keller wants to date someone she will stalk, attack and devour her pray.

So with my expectations low, I went into it looking for a nice time and perhaps a somewhat buzzed make out session.  I heard a knock on the door, and there stood a very little man.  He had the face of the guy from the dating site, it's just his face was about 2 feet lower from where I expected it to be.  I have dated some smaller guys in my day.  Andy and Jerod were both about my size, perhaps a touch taller.  But I have never, nor do I think I will ever, be attracted to someone who I have to bend over to kiss.  There were a few other instant turn-offs for me.  He smelled a lot like the bedding you put in a hamster cage, to which I have come to learn is the smell of cedar.  And often times people with cedar closets or dressers carry this odor, apparently.  Well, I'm sorry - but he smelled like a Petco.  The 3rd and final strike, as I saw it, was when we were en route to dinner, and he casually mentioned that I sound a lot like Marge Simpson.  Hey guys, I don't know what types of pickup lines you use on women, but that should never be one of them.

Sigh.

He was a genuinely sweet guy.  And the date was tolerable.  He did make a move in for what I consider to be one of the most awkward good night kisses in my 100 year dating history.  I think he was on his tip-toes.  So there it is. I can't date a dude who is shorter than me.  I need to know when I am laying in a man's arms that it physically makes sense for me to be the little spoon.  I need to feel secure and protected.  I need to be able to wear sky high heals, with my legs as one of my finer features, and these stems look their best in heals.  While were here, let's cover a few more bases, shall we?

-I won't date a guy with man boobs.
-I won't date a guy who is a terrible speller.
-I won't date a guy who has children from a previous relationship.
-I won't date a guy who wears jorts.
-I won't date a guy with a ponytail.
-I won't date a guy whose favorite hobby is karaoke.
-I won't date a guy who has braces.
-I won't date a guy who is missing any arms or legs.
-I won't date a guy who claims to be bi-sexual.
-I won't date a guy who has never been in a relationship before me.
-I won't date a guy who has bad breath.

Now, I should say the obvious "I won't date a guy without a job" or "I won't date a guy that lives with his parents" but let's be honest, I spend most of my time pining after comedians and musicians.  These are two qualifications I have had to learn to let go of.  Is it ideal? No.  But that's just the type of man I like.  (Which is debatable whether they can be called 'men' at all).

Am I shallow? Maybe.  Will I end up with someone that fits all my so-called qualifications for men? Probably not.  In fact, because I wrote this blog I will probably end up marrying a dwarf, who only has one arm.  But I will put my foot down when it comes to jorts.