why am I single?

Another little update of what has been going on since I haven't been posting. I went and paid for the Spice Girls reunion concert, not once, but 2 times. Cate and I went the 1st time, the 2nd was with gay man, of course. Why am I single?

SPICE UP YOUR LIFE!

EDIT: Photo credit. Pat (touchy touchy)
- chloe

No one likes a quitter

I have been a terrible settler and Jamestown resident, and I apologize to you, our fans, all 3 of you. We are back on track! Valentines Day was a bust because we reverted to our old habits by drinking red cocktails, eating chocolate covered things, and watching romantic comedies (only for irony folks), instead of finding dates. Good thing we never made consequences for the rules or else I could foresee myself being forced to sit through an eppy of Millionaire Matchmaker as punishment.

Because of my boss, whom I affectionately call "the weave" behind her back, I never got to blog about my stalker. It's true Cate had a much more threatening encounter, but mine is technology-wise better. Here we go, strap in tight.

So I had been pushing off dates with this 6 (his ranking) for quite some time, mainly because of "the weave." I finally have a free day over the weekend and TENTATIVELY (a running theme for us Jamestowners) make plans with him. He seems excited, however, there was NO LOCATION or TIME set. Sunday evening rolls around and I decide I much rather watch 'The Office' and eat Coldstone birthday cake remix (why am I fat?) than force myself to have a conversation with a 6 (at best). He calls, and I ignore it. Ok, that was juvenile, but I wasn't rejecting the date, just putting it off again.

So here is the detailed time of events:

9pm - comes around and I figure I am safe. No such luck. I get a text reading: ? That's it, just a question mark. I ignore it, figuring I can tell him I fell asleep and smooth everything out tomorrow. No such luck.
10pm - 6 CALLS IN A ROW! Wtf, I obviously can't answer now. I am getting slightly concerned.
11pm - 2 more calls back to back. Hmm maybe he is just concerned with my well being?
12pm - 1 more call for good measure I suppose.
12:30 - I go to bed, thinking I am in the clear and intent on blocking him from all internet communication sites in the morning. I figure all the calls warrant a legitimate fear.
6:02 AM!!!!! - 2 more calls. I was sure I was dreaming this one, but when I woke up for real at 8:30 ("the weave" doesn't request my presence until 10), I was assured it was no nightmare.
10am - I block him from instant messaging and the dating site from which I found him.
1pm - He calls my work number, which I NEVER GAVE HIM! I am actually freaked at this point but completely unsure what to do.
3pm - Another text with "?"

The phone attack ended there, but then a WEEK later I get this on a popular social networking site:

1. Clearly you aren't over it buddy.
2. Was there a question in there?
3. What was he trying to accomplish?
4. You effing insane, don't ever call me again mothafuckaa!

I realize I am irresistible, but this was pathetic and what sent me into a reclusive state in which I stared at my freakishly small nail beds all day and refused to log on to my assigned dating site. Don't worry kids, this chick is back and ready to take on the freaks! Bring 'em on!

all my love,
-chloe

sthoy sthause pleathse?

Alas, I have finally had my first internet date and thus have discovered why people need to hide behind their computer screens. Now, don't get me wrong, I am not totally against the idea of internet dating, you can just as easily pick up a loser in a bar as you can in the privacy of your own home, wearing your hello kitty jammies (an absolute must for a G.G.). So, back to the story. I have another AIM stalker, from before I learned my lesson (see my Hamptons post). He is the very worst kind, the second I sign on he makes himself known, even though we have exhausted every conversation possible before actually meeting. I work a billion hours a week, so I can never meet him, but he just won't quit. I find his exuberance and enthusiasm utterly revolting, therefore he shall now be known as, eager beaver.

Since I can't block Mr. Beaver's sorry ass, I went out with him last night. Judging by his pictures, I wasn't expecting an Adonis, just a regular joe with a quirky look, more commonly known as a hipster in these parts. From the first sentence, I knew I wouldn't be able to control myself all night. Why? HE HAD A LISP!!!! How does that happen? Do parents just allow their kids to walk around with that? I mean a slight one is fine, sometimes a little cute, but the man couldn't even order saki properly. Not kidding.

Well of course I made the best of the situation and tried to get him to use an "s" word as much as possible and then made a scorecard for myself. To make the game fair, I gave the beav points for avoiding using "s" words; it would be plain mean otherwise. By the end of the night, I got pretty creative if I don't say so myself. We talked about the finer points of scrabble, I asked him about his experiences sailing, I asked him to place my order without scallions, and even asked him to procure some sodium free soy sauce. Final score was:

Chloe: 73
Beaver: 46

I win! I win! I refuse to believe this makes me a bad person. I blame his parents. I just can't wait until he asks me out on a "sthecond date!"

-chloe

If you've never been to the hamptons, you deserve to die

I am obviously the slacker of the group, having not been on dates yet. The competitive side of me is pissed (I WANNA WIN!) but the practical side of me is screaming with glee that I haven't had to see any of these fools in person yet. Since things didn't pan out with IB this weekend, we have just been chatting on AIM. (MENTAL NOTE: Never EVER give your personal AIM to someone from a dating site. You will never have a free moment again and might lose all hope in the male species.)

I want to give you some gems from our conversations today, just to give you an idea where I am getting my angst. It's not only from Alanis I swear! Here we go....

IB: Hey, what's up? Sorry again about this weekend.
Me: No worries. What's going on?

(we talk about what we did this weekend. Boring and annoying.)

IB: Sorry, I had to talk to my boss
Me: It's ok, just don't let it happen again.

(I quickly realize that was a witty banter/ sarcasm, my mind races to rule # 9)

Me: Totally sarcastic by the way.
IB: LOL

(did I mention yet how my stomach turns at the site of "lol" - I'll post on that later. He goes on about more things I don't pay attention to.)

IB: What do you do in the summers? My friend has a boat, which is so awesome. It's a great time. I can't wait to have my own place in the Hamptons.
What I want to say: WHAT DO I DO IN THE SUMMERS? I WORK YA JERK! And the Hamptons? I JUST VOMITTED ON MY COMPUTER.
What I actually say: I actually haven't been to the hamptons. I hear its nice though.
IB: WHAT!? Like never?
Me: Nope
IB: Wow
Me: Yep, never been.
IB: Not even for a party?
Me: No
IB: Whoa, like the white party even?

(I don't think I spelled this one out enough. I H-A-V-E N-E-V-E-R B-E-E-N T-O T-H-E H-A-M-P-T-O-N-S! Got it now? Ok lets move on.)

Me: Not even the white party.
IB: Oh, well it's ok.

It was nice he forgave me for not having been to the Hamptons. I mean I really did commit a felony. For all the zero times I have met diddy he really was a jerk for not inviting me to his exclusive celebrity-only party. I guess I walked into that one by even talking to IB at all. Hope y'all enjoyed my day, we all know I did.

"No fat chicks please!"

Well kids, seeing as how its after 10pm and I am still at work, I think now is the time to address some important issues. There are 2 disturbing things I came across in my interweb-man-searching that have been bugging me all day. The first, which gave me the inspiration for this post, was under the "what I'm looking for" section of my assigned dating website. It read, "No fat chicks please." I think it was nice he was kind enough to say please. I don't need to really talk about that one anymore, just had to throw it out there. Although I do wonder what his thoughts on politics are!

The second phrase I would like to discuss is, "work hard, play hard." What does that actually mean? Doesn't everyone work hard then have a good time? I think I might need someone to explain this one to me. I am not even trying to be silly, I don't get it! I have never heard a gay man speak this way, so it can't be all guys.

As for a date update, for various reasons, things didn't happen with IB this weekend. Don't cry! New dates are being scheduled shortly. Kisses! (G.G right?)

-chloe

All I need to know, I learned from Meredith Grey

Ok G.G's! The weekend is upon us, which means our first set of PJ dates! I guess that also means I have to get my obligatory manicure, which I no doubt will pick off in less than 24 hours. Eh, what can you do? Back to business... Cate and I were enjoying dinner at our favorite New York hotspot (how G.G is that?!) when the best thing that can happen in a New York restaurant fell right into our laps. We were seated next to the ever-popular "annoyingly-interesting-girly-conversation-girls." JACKPOT. Just what we needed for our research, plus we all know Cate is having a hard time finding a G.G sponsor. We all love our lists, so here is what we learned:

1. G.G's don't care what the reviews say, "Sweeney Todd" and "Atonement" just don't look that interesting. They want to see ENCHANTED and they don't care who knows it!

2. It is perfectly acceptable to not go out on a Thursday night if "Grey's Anatomy" is on. Meredith Grey is our lord and savior.

3. "My Dad would like totally kill me if he like ever saw me with a tattoo."

4. Never drink too much before "Grey's Anatomy," you will totally miss the subtle gentle nature of the Meredith/McDreamy relationship (absolutely not kidding on this one).

5. Seeing a midnight showing of a monster movie is definitely not a priority.

Granted these girls weren't the most posh gals New York has to offer. But it was helpful to see how much work we have in front of us. I am however, in utter shock that "Sweeney Todd" isn't a G.G fan favorite. I know there is a whole mess of blood, but I just figured Johnny Depp would cancel that out for them. He's oh so dreamy!

-chloe

Investment Banker

Ok, so I promised before I would talk a little more about my dates for this weekend. SQUEAL! I hate to brag, but my first time at the rodeo, and I got the bull by its horns. What am I talking about? And how do I know what happens at a rodeo? I am just guessing, but anyway.....ladies and gentleman, who am I kidding? No man is reading this. Ladies, I have scored the top prize among New York single women....the INVESTMENT BANKER. He even has an investment banker name along the lines of Richard or something (have to keep identities secret), but from now on, he will be known as Investment Banker, or IB.

I personally don't get it, money thing aside. I know I won't have a single thing in common with this dude. To attempt to figure it out all I had to do was throw "dating" "investment banker" and "New York" in my handy google search bar, and voila! Hoards of articles and sites pop up about how to snag an investment banker. LUCKY ME! I even found out my boss is dating one! Everyone is doing it! Summer in the Hamptons here I come! I guess I have to make it through the first date, but I have a feeling that won't happen. Since Jess and Cate have made lists today, I don't want to be left out! (can you tell I am the youngest child in my family?) Below you will find the reasons IB and I are destined to fail.

1. No matter how hard I try to stick to the rules, at least one ounce of sarcasm will slip out. I am sure an investment banker has never seen that on a woman before.

2. I aint a blonde.

3. My rack is just average.

4. I know nothing about money.

5. Battery Park scares me. Not for the same reason as Cate. Don't mention the Statue of Liberty to her. EVER.

6. He probably dresses like this:


I don't stand a chance... why can't a shirtless man pursue me?

-chloe

A lesson in decorating

Alright, I have secured 2 potential dates for this weekend (more on that later.) I don't want to have too much on my plate, (I can barely remember my co-workers names,) so I have transferred my efforts for the rest of this week to doing some significant research. In between my force-fed Jamestown Project required viewing of American Idol, I flipped back and forth between some matchmaker show hosted by some homo. I had no idea gay men were the authority on straight relationships. You learn new things everyday, I suppose. It's just that to all the gay men I know, (and believe me, it's a lot, they are my people,) straight men are more like alien creatures to them than us women. At least we know what keeps the straighties happy for 10 min or so (if we're lucky.)

I digress... So the mo' went into this single gal's apartment and said that her room had to be more feminine. HOLD. THE. PHONE. More feminine? Do straight guys like that?! For real? I mean I thought my one saving grace was that my bedspread is green and my sheets are brown. Sexy, right? I figured guys don't want to sleep on pink sheets. So basically my bedroom has to look less like this:



and more like this:



By the way, that first picture is totally not my bedroom. Mine is WAAAAAY messier and I am far less patriotic. So, needless to say, aside from my dates this weekend, a trip to Bed Bath and Beyond must be planned. I hope I can stomach buying a flowered dust ruffle.

-Chloe

Appropriate internet language

Well hello internet world! This week marks a lot of firsts for me. First blog post, first week sans diet coke (must find new vice), and most importantly my first foray into the internet dating universe. As we embark on this Jamestown journey I have become increasingly more aware of the flaws in our male counterparts. I know that's harsh, but I honestly don't know any self-respecting woman who would would start off a potential romantic interaction with: "hi babi, u r lookin hoT tonite!"

Now, I'm not saying I'm the next Nick Hornby, or I suppose for this project my inspiration should be more along the lines of Nicholas Sparks (girly-girls just LOVE 'The Notebook' and I hear 'The Wedding' is real tearjerker. VOMIT), but when did it become too difficult to write out full words like "you," or "are"? Well, I know the first rule states:

"You must accept EVERY date, unless the datee is absolutely gross or looks like he'll probably kill and/or rape you. You know the kind."

However, I classify bad grammar as an indication the person is probably capable of murder or rape. It angers me to no end, and if I weren't bound by these rules, the sight of a "tonite" would have been the end right there, but alas, that is not the point of our exercise. Thoughts? Nonetheless....I have a date this weekend!

-chloe