Charming, but single

A journal in dates and drinks


Everybody's talking all this stuff about me ...

From S: Blogger hates me. This post was supposed to go up Thursday. Sorry! I was having regular martini night with a nice group of people last night, as is typical of my Wednesday nights. (Side note: My favorite little martini bar was playing the worst music ever last night. Seriously, they played a Lindsay Lohan song. Oh for the love of vodka.) So, I was teasing one of my guy friends ... (A good friend of the infamous T, who I would like to point out, I have done a very very good job of not obsessing over.) Now, I always tease this guy and he always teases me. We're about as different as two people can be and we make fun of each other's political beliefs, jobs, choice of drink, etc. So, I was teasing him a little, but I was being cute and obvious about it. I'd make a little crack about his job and then wink at him. We were with friends, so no one would have thought I was serious and I am not the only person who was teasing him, by any means. All of the sudden, his smile faded and he said, "S, you know, if you keep this up, I'll be forced to get even with you." He used a very serious tone. He was not joking. I, however, thought he was, so I said, "Dear, you have no dirt on me because there is no dirt to have." I am nothing if I am not coy. He shook his head in disagreement and said, "I could really embarrass you if I wanted to, trust me." Then, he was fine. He teased me a little bit, but I made sure not to joke with him about anything that might offend his sensitive little soul. Last night, after a martini and a Hoegarden, I took it with a grain of salt. This morning, I'm a little nervous. You know, if a co-ed group of mostly single, carefree, beer-swilling twenty somethings hang out long enough (more than four years for some of us), an indiscretion or 12 are going to be made. Someone's going to make out, someone's going to hook up, someone's going to get their feelings hurt. That's life, plain and simple. I know I'm not the only person in my social circle to participate in some extracurricular activities with a fellow circle member. (We went to college at a party school together, for crying out loud.) No, I haven't had dalliances with all of the men in our group -- just a few. (And, again, no more than anyone else.) The truth is, this guy really could embarrass me if he wanted to bring up details of past flings -- the kind of details that you tell a close friend and no one else. And I could embarrass him back. Maybe he knows I wouldn't because his indiscretions have been with some dear friends of mine. Maybe he was just messing with my head. Maybe he knows I'd never make public some of his embarrassing drunken moments because they were with dear friends of mine. Still, his little threat worried me. I still have fun, but I'm not the party girl I used to be. I made mistakes, I made poor choices. But they're MY mistakes and MY poor choices and as long as I own them, I don't think anyone should use them against me. I could forget about it and just sing, "I don't give a damn about my bad reputation." (Again, not that bad of a reputation.) But I do -- no one wants to be gossiped about relentlessly for every little thing they've done since they were 21. Raised eyebrows aren't what you want to have sent your direction. Still, tis better to have stories and regrets than a sinking feeling that you haven't experienced anything, right? To quote Billy, "I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints." From what I hear, the sinners are much more fun.



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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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