Charming, but single

A journal in dates and drinks


Have been seduced by informality of messaging medium ...

So, my weekend was boring. Totally. I had sushi and a few glasses of wine with the girls. We talked jobs and real estate. Bo-RING! What else ... I bought a new pair of cute black pointy shoes because I pretty much killed my other ones. Then I spent like $40 at Target on pretty much NOTHING. So odd. I slipped into bed around 10:30 Sunday night, feeling a bit like I was in a rut. It was a classic example of one area of your life going well and another becoming problematic. My solution was to start back the gym regularly, which would give me more energy and make me feel better. (I didn't go to the gym today. But tomorrow, I swear. The gym bag is packed!) Anyway, I took some allergy medicine and crashed and then got up and went to work, where I discovered an e-mail from the elusive T, who's last contact with me was to call once and not leave a message. I figured he'd blown me off and was almost over it. He was responding to a mass e-mail I sent out reminding my posse (I am so lame!) about our standing Wednesday night drink ritual at the martini bar. I send one out every week to between 15 and 20 people. I remember thinking that the one I sent out this week was lame because I included my phone number on the bottom and said, "Call if you need anything." I meant for people to call if they wanted to know who was coming or if they wanted a designated driver or if they wanted to know if we were at the bar. But that came out, "Call if you need anything." Now, I have invited T to many a function via e-mail. I am the queen of Evite. I spend a lot of time in front of the computer, as do most of my friends, so we do a lot of party planning online. Also, I find Evites are easier because you can invite a lot of people quickly and they can invite their friends quickly and so on. Blah. I'm going to quit shilling for Evite. So, T has NEVER replied to an invite personally. Ever. I was a bit concerned when I saw his e-mail because I was half worried he was e-mailing me to tell me not to invite him to things anymore. Stranger things have happened. Anyway, he thanked me for the invite, and closed with, "Ha. I can call you if I need anything?" Short but sweet. I almost fell out of my chair. Not a profession of love, but a reconnection and a flirtation. I giggled like a schoolgirl. I was very pleased. I wrote several responses, but scrapped them as they all sounded either too slutty or not sexy enough. ("Anything. Anytime. Anywhere" = too slutty, "You have my number, call it" = not sexy enough.) I finally went with, "Of course. Did you have anything in particular in mind?" Short and to the point -- I let him know that he can and should call and I got some insinuation in there. And, the question is open, so he can respond. But, if he doesn't, it isn't as if I left a lot out there. So perfect. You would think I was a professional communicator or something. So, I'm expecting either another e-mail or a phone call sometime this week. I'm giddy. Also, B called tonight and asked me to drinks. I said no. He seemed a touch surprised. For months the boy acts like an ass to me and blows me off to hang out with other people. So I stop calling him and now he's invited me out several times during the past few weeks. Something's in the water and I swear it better stay there long enough for me to get laid. (And yes, the title of this post is from Bridget Jones -- either the first movie or one of the books. I can't recall which.)



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Charming, but single is 25 26 27(!), lives in the Southern part of the U.S.A. and likes both her drinks and her boys tall. E-mail (listed below) her and she may respond. You can also IM her in AIM/AOL. (If she ever remembers to sign on.)
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Former taglines of this blog: "A Journal in Dates and Drinks" and "A Dateless Journal of Drinking."




Those Particulars
Some Backstory
Memories of the Way We Were
Updates and Towel Snapping
One Year Wrap-Up
Just As She Is
An Open Letter to Myself
After 26 years, she HAS learned something
An Open Letter to the Men Who Message Me Through Match
Sharing a smoke



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