(disclosure: this post was written after  consuming a bottle of ‘Royal Bitch’ Merlot)

6 months.

6 months.

6 MONTHS – people. Since I’ve had sex. I thought I’d just throw that out there as the frustration has reached new heights. I haven’t gone six months without sex since 1998 – and at that time….I was a virgin!!!!

Sure it was all fun and games after 3 months and I was all caught up in holiday craziness. Thinking about the Virgin Mary and the birth of the baby Jesus were the only things keeping my mind off the lack of sex. Then the whirlwind of January, my London via Texas three week excursion also definitely a diversion.

Then February – definitely diversions in Feburary – nothing too distracting though leaving more time to think about what I wasn’t getting.

Now March. I have begun my dating fiesta. I’m currently ‘dating’ (as in gone past a first date) several adorable men. Tex – unfortunately, apparently the fact that I wore down his battery didn’t sit too well. However, we have Rugby, the Pastor (whole new story), LAX and Boss Man (we had drinks. He was all eager to do it again – who knows if he’s feeling the ‘Scarlett Spark’ yet, but I’m hopeful. This one is a marathon, people – not a sprint).

At any rate, I’ve had a fair number of ‘first kisses’, good first kisses (because, well, the others just get kicked to the curb), and so reminding me what I’m missing. Reminding me how intoxicating a good kiss can be. Making me long for more drawn out kissing sessions…which lead to other sessions. Making me remember how much I’ve missed being physically close to someone.

I’m not talking about one night stands – the flame burning within me right now is far hotter than even the best anonymous encounter could produce.

So to recap – I’m frustrated. Oh – and on Top on that – I’ve totally given up sugar for lent. Which means…no chocolate!!! My last hope for any semblance of solace.

Oh well – on a lighter note – Happy St. Patty’s day!! For those of you Non, Micks - please see one of my all time favorite posts for a guide on surviving the day.

This redheaded Irish Girl will be giving homage at the Dubliner starting at noon. See you there!!

Frankly,  

Soooo date updates. I’ll give you the quick ones first then move on to more detailed craziness that only your Scarlett could produce.

Coffee Date. I haven’t written about Mr. Coffee yet. A friend set us up and we decided to meet on Friday afternoon. He’s very nice, really great smile. I don’t know if I’m all THAT attracted to him, but if he asks me out again, I wouldn’t be completely opposed to the idea.

Irish Guy. We all remember the fabulous date/marathon make-out session I had with this guy. He emailed me last Sunday and said:

Sorry I've been a little flaky.  Things have been rather crazy.  I unfortunately had to work today, just me and anal retentive boss which is just tons of fun.  Are you still up for doing something soon?  Things should hopefully calm down for me this weekend.  Do you have any plans?  Let me know what you think.  Hope you had a good weekend.

So after that I said I was free on Saturday and he suggested we touch base closer to the end of the week to decide what to do.

Friday I emailed a friendly, “hi” to see what the plan was for Saturday and heard…NOTHING back. I’m NOT a fan. We’re kicking this one to ethe curb.

And then we have Tex.

So Friday evening, after sharing a drink with PQ, I met him in Gtown and had a lovely dinner at Pizzeria Paridiso. Tres Yummy! We had a great conversation, I had to stop myself from literally staring at length into his piercing blue eyes. He looked like someone…but I couldn’t quite place it.

After dinner, we walked over to Clyde’s and proceeded to talk, drink and flirt until around 3 a.m. when the bar was closing. He offered to give me a ride home and a I certainly didn’t object.

So we pull up in front of chez moi and he kisses me ‘goodnight’. Many, many kisses goodnight. 15 minutes of kisses goodnight – and the cars whizzing by on my busy Dupont street got a little distracting. So I very cleverly suggested, as I didn’t feel comfortable inviting him upstairs, that he pull into my building’s parking lot around back.

Incidentally, my discomfort in inviting him up stemmed from the following three rationale:

#1. My apartment was/is STILL in disarray as the ceiling has not been repaired and all of the displaced furniture/wall decorations have not been replaced. Not exactly the way to make a stellar first impression.

#2. The way this make out session was going, it would be very hard to put the proverbial sex brakes on outside of the confines of the car.

#3. If said sex brakes were to come off, along with my clothes…my undergarment ensemble didn’t exactly match. (I couldn’t find my mega fabulous black bra…and I didn’t feel comfortable getting naked-ish for the first time in anything else).

So….we made out like a couple of teenagers in a car with nowhere to go. That is, of course, until we fell asleep around 4:30 a.m.! We woke up around 5 a.m. when I said, “OK, the sun will be coming up soon…you have GOT to go home and I have GOT to go to bed”. He agreed.

So we resituated and he started the car.

Correction – he TRIED to start the car. Einstein had left the battery on. Yep! Car – completely dead.

As ya’ll know, I don’t drive. So I didn’t have a anything to help him jump his car. The rest of my date went thusly:

5:00 a.m. – We decide its time to call it a night.

5:15 a.m.  - We realize the battery is dead.

5:30 a.m. – Tex calls a tow truck.

5:50 a.m.– Tow truck shows up.

6:00 a.m.– Sun starts coming up.

6:15 a.m.– The tow truck guy tries to jump the car. It’s not working.

6:30 a.m.– Tex asks him if he can tow him to the BMW dealership in Pentagon City. The driver informed us that he gets off at 7:00 a.m. and so he’ll have to call ANOTHER truck to tow him to VA.

7:00 a.m.– The second tow truck comes. He gives me a hug, a kiss and says "we'll talk" and he and his lifeless vehicle get hauled away.

7:15 a.m. - I fall into bed, exhausted. But have lovely dreams.

Oy! So either I’ll never see him again or it’ll be a great story about our first date!!

So THIS week:

Tomorrow…I’m having drinks with…..(drum roll please)….BOSS MAN! Yep – it’s finally happening and so little time to plan! Short skirt or low cut top? Hmmmm.

Wednesday is lunch with Rugby. A new guy, friend set up. We’ve been emailing/txting/talking on a daily basis.

I’ll keep you posted!

Frankly,

Apparently I miss football season so much that I'm now using sports metaphors to describe, what is quickly becoming, a very, if not complicated, definitely busy love life (see below). However, upon further consideration, circus terminology such as juggling, clowns and three rings would be much more appre-peaux. Anyone know where I can get a fire breathing midget?

In Play

No word from Lawyer Man (i.e. Sex Fiend) – neither surprised or disappointed.

With much pushing and prodding from many circles, I FINALLY asked Boss Man (my former boss) out for drinks. Perhaps “asked out” implies a little stronger and more direct verbiage than what was actually used. Let me attempt a more accurate description.

I casually suggested that we meet for happy hour so that I could catch him up on everything happening here and I wanted to hear how his job search was going, etc. etc. Very passive aggressive – not overtly romantic. A strategic approach in my opinion. It lends plausible deniability should he indeed think of me as a co-worker and nothing more however, it gives me the opportunity to get him into a dimly lit, alcohol laced setting where I happen to show up looking effortlessly stunning thus giving him the perfect opportunity to commence with confessions of love and adoration.

I may be living in a fantasy world – but at least I own beach front property!

He accepted my invitation and we’re trying for next week. He’s not swift with the email replies and so I’m estimating his next response suggesting time and place (I predict my calendar to be absolutely filled until Friday (wink, nudge) most likely on Tuesday or Wednesday.

Next Half

I’ve got some potential dates lined up for next week. One with a tall, blonde, blue eyed (but I’ll try not to hold that against him) Texan, and the other with a guy for whom I have yet to come up with a clever Blog name. Hmmmmm. I seem to gravitate towards uncreative names describing the man’s nationality, heritage or profession (Canadian, Russian, Texan, Lawyer Man, Football Player….). Keeping with that somewhat mundane but effective trend, I’ll dub him “Irish” for now. And in true to both our respective heritages, we’re planning a pub-type date.

AND – in the seemingly ever present quest to make my life even MORE complicated – Because, honestly, we all know how boring my blog is when my life is uncomplicated and happy….

Off the Bench

The Canadian is moving back to DC in August.

Army is back state side in about 6 weeks.

(Queue ominous soap opera-esque kettle drums) Bum…. Ba Bum...Bum Buuuummmmmmm!

So, after being canceled on last Thursday for date #2 with Lawyer Man, I was almost ready to toss him onto the discard pile – however, after feeling somewhat generous I decided to take him up on his offer of Thai food  and a movie at his place last night.

Not necessarily a mistake…but not exactly the most brilliant of ideas. Let me break it down for you this way: He’s insanely attractive. Tall, dark, handsome, beefy but in a crazy strong, muscley, rugby player kind of way (just the kind of guy you want to snuggle up with and, incidentally just my type). Yummy. Definite chemistry. However, that’s where the pros end. Purely superficial.

 He’s sweet, but in an “I’m too sexy for my shirt” kind of way. He’s all with the calling me “baby”, which, after a week long acquaintance is annoying in itself. But then, when this grown man started pouting – literally pouting – after I drew the "no sex" line …I was definitely turned off. Especially when he pulled out the, “but I’m so crazy about you, baby”. To which I replied, “calm down, pout boy, you don’t even KNOW me!!? Furthermore, if you think this is some kind of litigation to be argued and negotiated upon, consider me judge and jury of the Supreme Court 'o Love. Your verdict: Guilty.”

And so, in his rather lawyerish way, he started a lengthy appeal process, touting the merits of his case. He wants to date me exclusively. He’s hardly ever felt this way. That I'm amazing. That he NEEDED to express his feelings. Puh-lease!

That schpeal might work on a girl desperate for male attention, affection or a relationship, unfortunately for him, that’s NOT me - this week anyway.

Poor boy, his plan backfired and the relationship talk was a turn OFF. I just got back on the market! I don't care how cute he is - the only way i'm jumping off the highway at the first rest stop is if Russell Crowe is holding the exit sign! And the begging - just pathetic. I thought I had left these sorry tactics back in the frat house where they so definitely belong.

Amateur seduction hour aside - while physically speaking chemistry exists, mental stimulation is next to nil. There was not a bookshelf to be found in his apartment (strike one); he doesn’t make me laugh and  half my witty, sarcastic one-liners soar over his head(strike two); he’s waaaaay too quick with the cute nicknames which either cinches the 'most transparent motives in DC award' and is just trying to get laid or b) that, much like Fuckhead, he’s an emotional whore (strikes three and/or four!).

I'm no expert but doesn't that qualify as a definitive "out" in most sporting circles?

While yes, a little lovin’ is always fun and very much needed, this is NOT someone with whom I envision a future. So frankly, what's the point??

So instead of passwording or shutting down, I thought the most reasonable course of action would be to simply “ask” the Canadian to not read my blog for awhile – easy, right? I didn’t invite him to read the blog in the first place so I thought he’d just respect my request and I could write with a tad less inhibition.

The conversation didn't quite go over as smoothly as planned. BIG Mistake. Huge!

He was personally hurt and (in his words) “monumentally insulted” that I didn’t mind saying whatever it is I say (which lately amounts to nothing more than bemoaning a relationship long since over) to strangers and the blog reading community et. al. but he wasn’t allowed to read it. I, of course, take a much different view that its nothing personal but that I can’t very well write about HIM and expect it to be anything even resembling honest if I know he’ll read it.

At any rate, I hurt his feelings and I apologized – a lot of good it did me.

Blah blah blah, long story short(er) – he’s not reading. At least for now.

So am I now going to  come up with some huge, personal, revitalization that could only be achieved within the playground of relative anonymity? Obviously not, but one could hope!

Frankly, I think he’s being a bit sensitive but I didn’t intend to hurt his feelings.