Sunday, September 30, 2012
I just realized that it has been almost 4 years (yowza!) since I started this blog. How time flies -- and I'm still single! I have loved the comments and interactions we have had on this site. However, I invested in my website a while ago and, although I would love to continue publishing here, I must focus on that site.
I hope that you will continue to follow my foibles with regards to dating, mating and relating. I also look forward to you continuing to share your stories there. I can be reached at www.carrieblogshaw.com
I look forward to hearing from you.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
In a way, I'm sure we all do--a guy who comes in and out of your life, gives you great sex, takes it away, breaks your heart repeatedly yet keeps you crawling back for more, in the way that makes you wonder about your dignity. And pride.. And mental health…
I was living in New York, surviving on cheap wine, bar snacks and the hope that my measly fashion internship would actually get me somewhere. I hadn't lived there long when he called. Of course he called, because it had been a while. He was going to be visiting his girlfriend and wanted to know if I wanted to meet up with them to get a drink. Oh the girlfriend, the one he so frequently threatened to cheat on for me. Well, I did love controversy, so why not?
The night eventually came and I decided I would look as New York and fabulous as I could. I put on my stilettos, sleek trench, tightest jeans and a sexy black top. He was going to be impressed and she was going to know it.
I met up with them on West 73rd, a street far from my flat in Brooklyn. I won her over immediately and he was impressed. We sat in a dark bar, chasing whiskey with vodka shots. He got honest as soon as the drinks starting flowing. He'd lean in when she'd run off to the bathroom and tell me that they were breaking up and that he still thought about me. The leans turned into kisses but I pushed him away. I wasn't looking to get punched that evening.
As the night progressed, he came up with an idea. He reminisced on our days of wild threesomes, laundry room sex and hair pulling and asked, "What if we have a threesome tonight?" I'd be lying if I said I wasn't game. Actually, I was dying to. My Mr. Big had all the same attributes that the real Mr. Big had. It was perfection, really.
I agreed, but said he had to make it happen. When she returned, he bought more shots and another round of drinks. We were drunk by the time bar closing rolled around. Now was the time to act. We were to suggest that it was unsafe for me to ride the subway alone at that time of night (it is) and that I should crash for a few hours. He would take it from there.
We stood in the street. Me teetering on my heels, she not having a word of any thing he said. I began to wonder if she had seen him trying to kiss me. He was crumbling--a side I had never seen before. They fought on the sidewalk as I edged closer to the subway. I hastily waved goodbye and ran for the train.
They fought all night and it took me two hours to get home. He texted me the next day to tell me about it and I told him I had to take care of "business" as usual. He said he wished he could have been apart of it... They left the city the next day.
This was two years ago and I haven't been face to face with that him since. He still sexts me every now and then, usually drunken, illogical. Fortunately, we still live in separate cities. It's an important and much needed distance.
Our story won't end the same as Mr. Big and Carrie. Mine usually ends at Adam & Eve , looking for something else to get the job done. I've dated plenty of people since him and am in a relationship now, but it doesn't keep him from mentally and textually coming back to haunt me. There's always something about those Mr. Bigs...
Sunday, August 19, 2012
While innocently standing in line to get my morning coffee at Low Price Java Joint in Cosmpolitan City, I was feeling watched. Having just rolled out of bed and put the nearest skimpy sundress on, I expected that I might maintain the interest of someone... As I looked up, eyes barely visible beyond my bed head, I saw who was staring. He checked me out up and down and then his eyes settled on his obviously favourite spot: my boobs. He was fixated. He was hot and bothered.. He was, like, 100 years old...
He managed to make eye contact briefly enough to smile at me. To his credit, he had all his teeth. Well, who knows if they're actually his, but he did have teeth. Being that this has not been a hot summer romance-wise for me, I actually started to wonder: How old is too old? I am partial to the oldies, but am I wanting to hook up with a Grampy? A Zadie?? A Nonno??? No.
It's always a compliment to be found attractive by someone. Clearly, anyone. This encounter was unique for me in that I've never seen someone so old be so sexually expressive. So early. Good for him!. He honestly looked hungry enough to eat his breakfast bagel off my boobs. He also lessened the bad rap for all sexy seniors (?!?), as most singletons write off the elderly due to known issues with age-related erectile dysfunction. And bladder control issues. And saggy skin. And dentures. And uncontrolled flatulence. Well, perhaps old Hungry Eyes just served to reinforce the fact that to men who most likely have few options, Age-Related Macular Degeneration (with possible cataracts) and an overabundance of ear and nose hair, I've got it goin' on!
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Here’s my latest experience in the disconcerting dating scene. Perhaps you should grab a drink before reading – I had to!
On holidays in Northern Cosmopolitan City, my parents and I went into the nearest town for dinner. On the way, we had to stop at the grocery store to grab some grub for later in the week. While picking peas in the pod outside, I felt someone watching me. I turned around to find a nice-looking older man (I’m fixated on fossils!) checking me out. Grocery store pick ups are difficult to navigate, but I felt it might happen. As I walked into the store, he followed me in and casually looked around everywhere I went. I was flattered. I was feeling it! While standing at the cash with my mother, the vainglorious vixen also known as June Cleaver Blogshaw, I pointed out the philandering silver fox. June’s reaction: “Oh, I thought he was checking me out…” Um, no.
As we left the store, I felt disappointed and dejected. How could I have engineered the encounter to include an introduction? Knowing that we were heading to the restaurant, I thought about how serendipitous it would be if he just happened to be heading there, too. We had to stop for gas, which was convenient as the restaurant is also the local fuel station. Fancy, I know. As my diligent dad, Ward, worked the pump, June and I entered the bistro. As we walked in, I noticed the silver fox right behind me. Yes! I knew that we would be able to focus on our flirtation while inside. The waitress took us to our table, which was situated in front of the table of a family of four. With a single mom. I waited for the silver fox to request a table next to ours. Imagine my shock and horror as he walked over to the family table. To take his spot.. With his wife and 3 children… Ugh!
The worst? His seat was directly in my line of view. He spent the entire meal trying not to look directly at me, while stealing glances when the fam weren’t watching. Um, yeah… No.
In my long-suffering experience of dating I have experienced all sorts of dubious dilemmas. I have encountered many types that I have had to learn to watch out for: The Alcoholic Workaholic, The Sexaholic Workaholic, The Alcoholic Sexaholic Workaholic, The Stone Wall… And now, The Family Flirt!
Thursday, July 26, 2012
I would like to say that I was never a fan of the surly and miserable looking K Stew. Although R Pat doesn't seem much happier, I could never understand the draw of a sullen, miserable woman. I still wonder what on earth is going on with Posh and Becks...
Yesterday, the news broke that Kristin Stewart has cheated on her longtime boyfriend, Robert Pattinson with the director of her last film, Rupert Sanders. Sanders is also a cheating man-whore and is married (to a model, hello!) with children. Yowza. I have always been amazed how R Pat stuck with Kristin for as long as he did, but can anyone explain the draw of this dour and dirty-looking (seriously! like, WTF?!) "dish"? I thought that men are attracted to bright, sunny and sexy singletons... What am I doing wrong here? Do I need to embrace (or, at least, find) my inner vampiric dark side?? Should I become pale, morose and stop washing my hair???
I will say that it was apropriate of KStew to issue an apology before the story was broken by US Magazine. It was also apropriate that R Pat moved out of their shared home this afternoon. I await news come the breaking dawn (heh!) on the feeding frenzy of the vampire vixens on Edward Cullen. Bye, bye, Bella!