Boxed Wine and Missed Connections

It's always bad when you're blogging at work just to stay awake. This is only my second post and already I know enough to know that.

I like to think of myself as a cynic most of the time, although that doesn't stop me from doing very stupid things when it comes to dating and love, most of which involve desperately trying to hold onto something that doesn't make me remotely satisfied or happy. I think this is probably one of those Daddy complexes; or, it could just be because I hate to fail at anything.

The weird thing is that I don't even have to really like a guy all that much, or see us together in the future, I just want him to want me and do all those things that guys do in Reese Witherspoon or Meg Ryan movies. If this ever does actually happen one day I'll probably reject him, but I like to think I'll be able to appreciate this imaginary guy, not write him off as totally desperate. BUT, this is highly unlikely. All guys who approach me recently either want a one-night-stand or they're weird and creepy.

Example A: While leaving my friend's Redneck Wine Tasting Theme Party last Saturday, I was congratulating myself on not giving my phone number to anyone weird, not trying to take someone home, and not acting like too much of an ass in general, considering my copious consumption of Franzia.

Can I deviate from topic for a minute? What is with Franzia? I mean, I can usually drink like a bottle, bottle and a half of decent wine and be totally smashed. I can literally drink 5 drinking glasses full of Franzia and still be somewhat coherent. In college my roomates and I would kill a box of that stuff every 2 days, just for pregaming with! I don't know why we didn't just pony up and buy the good (i.e. mediocre stuff).

Ok back to it: I followed my roomate home, only a few houses down, and planned on a grilled cheese sandwich and an early bedtime.

So I'm out on my porch, smoking the last of too many cigarettes and talking on the phone, when two boys from the party show up to steal our pumpkin and smash it. Having two, I generously relented. When they came back for the second one, it was time for a brawl (we were in redneck mode, mind you). So roomate gets into a knock-down dragout with one of the boys until a dog-poop incident forces us all inside. For future reference, wrestling in a dark yard where a dog lives is never smart.

Either way, roomate doesn't last long and staggers off to bed still wearing her "Just a Good-Ol-Boy" hat. Left with two boys in the room, one with dog poop on his pants, I figure I can just chill for a few minutes and then go to bed and they will just boogie away down the street. Not that easy, apparently. Our friend with the attractive jean stain leaves, and I'm stuck with this weird guy who by the way I DID NOT TALK TO at the party. Now I get it, it's closing time and everybody wants somebody sometimes. But did I really come off as that slutty going home by myself? After an eternity of weirdness I tell guy I'm going to bed, to which I get a look with: "and me too, right?" written all over it.

WRONG. This is just all wrong. He asks for my number and at this point I'm just like: get out of my house!!! so I give it to him. Now keep in mind that I give my number out pretty frequently, with infrequent responses, sorta like a direct mail campaign. But go figure the one time I give it out without even hoping the guy will call he's like clockwork in 2 days.

No chemistry=he will call. And like any good hypocrite, I will not answer.

So my latest thing is reading those "Missed Connections" on Craigslist, and I think if I ever showed up on one I would go crazy and print it out and frame it. What a way to bring romance back to the internet, although most of the postings go a little like this:

"Saw you in line at the grocery store. You had on the acid wash jeans and pink sweater. You rock my world. I was the guy in the blue sweater with brown hair. I would drink your bathwater. "

Ok maybe that's not so romantic, but at least there's a little effort. Besides, "hey, I'm here at your house and you're drunk, isn't that good enough for you?" It's a step beyond the leering most of us ladies encounter on a daily basis. And most people don't even know about craigslist, but I'm still not giving up hope. Stranger things have happened.