friends don't leave friends behind with their other friends

I firmly believe in the whole "reaction to every action" theory out there. I say this because it seems as though whenever I suddenly become single, my dating life transforms into this major awkward hell-fire before settling down again. Having been in [any] previous relationship that allowed for you to be yourself, it's a bit hard to stay mysterious for the lucky first few dates you go on. I'm sure there are plenty of men out there who still refer to me as "that crazy bitch who made everything really weird".

Fortunately for me, they invented this magical elixir called Alcohol. This nectar of the Gods is able to take every strange moment and make it not only funny, but completely forgettable the next morning. UNfortunately, it's only forgettable to some, and regrettable for the rest.

Take, for instance, the night my ex and I broke up. After having been told that it was over, I called AC and she told me to come to R Bar in the tendernob-hill area for some warm, fuzzy liquid feelings to perk me back up. I have to say--this bar has to be one of my favorites in the City, despite having only been once. Not only did the bartender serve me drinks right as I was finished without asking, but they played the song, "Damn it feels good to be a Gangsta". Oh yes, yes it did.

Turns out my new single status wasn't the only thing to be celebrated, but also the birthday of AC's long-time friend, Z. After passing on the disgusting fernet shots she pushed in front of me, I was suddenly made aware that Z was Jewish.

Jewish, you say? You're kidding! When you have two Jews meet who are consistently surrounded by either atheists or christans/catholics (or raised as such), suddenly every single inside joke starts to come out. The guilt. The gefilte fish at Passover. The free trip to Israel (neither of us had taken it). We sat there and laughed our asses off for what felt like hours, both of us screaming out we had been "cheated" out of approximately 4,000 dollars and a computer every other Jewish kid our age got when they had their bar/bat mitzvah (neither of us had one).
It was at that point that AC mentioned she wanted to leave, and Z wanted to show us the new apartment two doors down he had just scored. Paying the tab and leaving, going up the elevator and into the door of his (very) small 1 bedroom apartment (/studio?), we were given the "grand" tour.

Out of nowhere, AC decides she wants to leave. I'm absolutely smashed but still coherent, and Z was obliterated. Apparently, when you drink your mind moves about half the pace it normally does. I know this because in the time that it took my brain to process AC was leaving, she had already gone out the door, down the stairs, and Z made a furious move on me. It was like he was attacking me with his mouth, and not the pleasant kind.

I kept stopping him. "You know, we should...:smooch: probably not...:smooch:...cause you know...:smooch:...just broken...:smooch:...my..ex...:smooch:..." I swear this lasted at least a good 15 minutes.

Suddenly, I couldn't take it anymore and jerked up in bed, grabbed my purse, yelling "I have to go! Sorry! I'm really sorry! This is really awkward, I'm sorry!"

I ran to my car, started bawling and didn't leave until I started sobering up. Actually, I think I was pretty fucking sober by this point, and I'm pretty sure that crying just allows alcohol to eject itself from your tearducts or something.

Last weekend I was at the kareoke bar in Nob Hill (see first entry), and I turn around to see Z passing me.

AC: "Do you remember her? The makeout/freakout in your apartment a few months ago?"
Z: "I don't remember going to that bar, actually."

...

Off the hook!

Note to self: make sure if you go out with AC's friends, that no one is having a birthday. It seems as though I end up making out with the birthday boy almost every single time (2 out of 3). Stop using me, or at least buy me a drink!

the way to my heart is through my therapist

These days, everything is a joke to me. No matter how weird, un-amusing, un-funny, awkward the jokes are, more than likely I have either a) made them, or b) laughed at them. Oh, I'm sorry--we're you being serious about that? Let me just finish laughing...

This has created some awkward moments, in all aspects of my life. However, there are some ground rules as to what taboo topics are fine and which are off limits.

Okay topics:

• Racism. Don't lie, you think it's hilarious even if you don't mean it.
• Sexism. Last night I said to my straight-gay boyfriend (SGB) after he told me my makeup gave me the "two black eyes" look--"Nothing no one has already told me twice!"
• Hipsters. No explanation needed.
• Frat boys and the sluts who sleep with them.
• Me. (no, I'm not under the "sluts" category, assholes. But you can joke that I am)

The list can go on and on, but I don't want to paint this picture that I'm some excessively bigoted individual, because I'm not. I just know when to have a sense of humor. But there are very few topics that are totally off-limits to me:

• Anything about God and Jesus. You can make the joke, but I sure as hell am not going to laugh at it. There is a backstory that I'll spare you of, but just know that it involves a sudden burst of wind knocking over a gigantic branch that landed right where I was standing not 2 seconds before.
• Anything about the Holocaust. Say what you want about big noses (if all my Jewish exes have, then you can too), but the Holocaust is out.
• My therapist.

"Wait...what?"

Yes, my therapist. You are not allowed to poke fun, hint at, or even seriously put down my therapist or the decisions I make based on the (expensive) discussions I have had with him. Unfortunately, there was a date who just didn't get that.

Enter: Pink Shirt Guy. I named him that because on our first date, he wore a stripped pink collared shirt and popped it. He might have just been wearing this. I'm all for that kind of thing if it was Breast Cancer Awareness Month (October, go support!), but it was July and that shit just doesn't fly with me.

For our third date (surprised it lasted that long), he took me to a nice restaurant on the Peninsula that served less-than-average "Italian" food. Having just finished a photo shoot for a friend, I was tired as hell and just wanted to go to sleep. It sounds a tad trashy to be complaining about being taken out to a nice dinner, but in all honesty the only reason I accepted was because I didn't want to hurt his feelings. Am I bragging? No. It was just clear that we weren't compatible, and he wasn't getting it, and I'm a nice (but stupid) person.

Halfway into the dinner, we started to divulge in the reason why I was trying to push him away--because I just wasn't ready for a relationship. Yes, it wasn't just about incompatibility, but also my heart was broken and the wound was still fresh. How do you explain that to someone you've been on three dates with? First of all, you don't. Second of all, you stop going on dates with him! Learn how to say no! Also, get a therapist (and actually listen to him).

"Look, I really appreciate everything, Pink Shirt Guy, but really, I just don't think I'm ready to go any further with this." (further than what? We made out. Once. Wooooo...)
"Is that what your therapist said?"
"It's something that, through many discussions, I have decided is the best idea for me to do right now."
"Alright, well you know the reason why he told you that right? So he could sleep with you."

...

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

"Wait, wait--what did you just say? So he could sleep with me? He has no interest in me! Why am I even explaining this to you!?"

Then I ordered the most expensive dessert out of spite, sat dumbfounded, and he just continued on with his theory about how my therapist wants to sleep with me.

Once we got outside, I fumbled around for my pack of cigarettes, handed him one (he smoked, but never inhaled), and smoked furiously for the next 5 minutes. As he kept inching closer and closer to kiss me, I finally blurted out:

"Stop. Right there. Just, stop. I don't feel like being close to anyone right now. Very...uh...claustrophobic...right now. Yeah."

The next week he tried texting me to come over (he said he was "done with dinners, let's get drunk at my place so I can roofie your drink". Okay, I made that roofie part up, but I'm sure he was going to do it). I told him I was busy and never heard from him again.

Then I fooled around with my therapist.

KIDDING.