The Quick and Dirty

.Back at work again. Love: the discount, working with fabulous friends, having something to do. Do not love: 8 hour days in 5 inch stiletto heels. My bad.

.The Embargo is being fiercely enforced. I was asked on a date by a med student at the Mercury Cafe Friday night and I said "No thank you, good sir!" I proceeded to explain to him about the Embargo and how NAFTA might even be involved, that's how serious it was, and how...- then he walked away. I'm pretty sure telling guys about the Embargo ensures its effictiveness in and of itself.

.Going to Vail on Wednesday for Thanksgiving - hooray! I will either kill my family or greatly enjoy spending time with them. Jury is still out on that on. I'll let you know.

Halting all relations with the foreigners

I am instituting an embargo. I'm minoring in Political Science, I do that.

The commodity?

Boys.

Or, I should say, men. Although I've dated 25 year olds, I've dated 19 year olds (although not particuarly recently), so I guess I'm embargoing anyone that identifies as "not a female." Let's not get caught up on semantics here. The important point is that I am instituting a mandatory embargo on datable males for the next several months, if not longer.

It's because I don't deserve them. Don't worry - I'm not one of those "poor me" girls who doesn't think she deserves to have a healthy relationship. In fact, the opposite. I very much believe that I deserve a great, fulfilling relationship. It's just that, in all my casual dating, I seem to have forgone the healthy/great/fulfilling part in favor of the relationship part. And it's not fair to these guys that I have been dating. My tolerance for the opposite sex extends to the end of one date, making-out optional (but usually encouraged, just to be sure) and then? I'm over them.

I really think that commitment is great, and it could be very liberating - if I found the right person. Which I have not. And I am tired of looking. It might be the fact that the men in my life have become more disposable than my conscious would like, or it might be the fact that I have high standards (I am what some people call picky) or the fact that I can't even keep my own shit together, let alone worry about someone else right now.

I'm not sure if I have some commitment issue that has newly taken root in my psyche since my last long-term relationship or if I just have the attention span of a mosquito when it comes to dating lately. I'm not entirely sure what my problem is, so if you have any hypotheses, do share them.

In the meantime, the Embargo will be an ongoing experiment in my ability to say No.

It's like in "Grey's Anatomy" when Meredith decides to be celibate. Instead, she knits. I couldn't knit a sweater if a naked, freezing child came to my doorstep with yarn, nor can I really do anything domestic in place of dating.

But I sure do like to use power tools, so if a table and chairs appears on your doorstep, just know that the Embargo is going well.

I'll keep you posted.

Karmic ass-kicking

I have never been dumped. Also, I have never dumped anyone. For a 21 year old, this is strange, no?

Then why, you might ask, are you not in a major relationship? The above information leads us to believe that either A. you've never dated anyone (not true) or B. you must have only dated one person and you are still together (also, not true) but now we find out that C. that's not true ? The math doesn't add up!

Don't feel bad, I'm bad at math too! However, I am very good at ending relationships without actually ever officially dumping anyone. Listen carefully and you, too, can learn my very effective technique for only $9.95 plus shipping and handling. It's called The Phase Out.

Here I will provide you with a scenario to illustrate the necessity of TPO:

Once upon a time, a girl agreed to go on a date with a guy. Said guy was kind of cute, nice, and it seemed like they had a lot in common. Said girl didn't want to turn down a potentially promising date, so off they went.

After a few dates, said guy was becoming less cute and more annoying, and the whole thing was going nowhere. So, said girl decided to call the whole thing off.

Unfortunately, it is not that easy, because in a circumstance like this, said girl is usually quite a catch (if I do say so myself) and said guy is usually ___ (fill in the blank here) and that just doesn't do it for said girl. Sadly, said guy doesn't know this, and he continues to try to woo said girl, only making things more awkward and less promising every time he calls.

Enter TPO!

Said girl slowly starts screening her calls, only answering every other time said guy phones. Said girl also becomes very busy, yet apologetic, that she can't spend so much time with said guy. Soon, she no longer answers his calls at all, and only calls him back when she knows he won't answer. After a few days (or weeks, depending upon said guy's level of persistence or stupidity) said guy has gotten the hint, and said girl has an unbroken streak of un-breakups to her name and she can quit worrying about said guy and move on.

Enter the part when I'm regretting ever employing this!

I think I'm getting phased out. I may be overreacting, but I generally have a good sense for these things, and I'm pretty sure I'm right. Unfortunately. Because I really like this one. He's kind of cute, nice, and we have a lot in common. But he hasn't called me lately, I've been leaving a fair amount of messages, and he called me back today when he knew I was in class...

I guess I knew that one day, karma would repay me for my dating deceptions. I just didn't expect it to happen now. It's so unfair!

For someone that's done her fair share of POs, I'm still a little POed.

Breaking down leads to breaking up

Dear Dell,

I didn't think it would come to this, at least, not so soon. The moment we met, I knew we were destined for something more, but I never felt the pulse of true love. It's not your fault, I should have been honest with you. I just kept hoping that if I took care of you, kept you updated and dressed you well, our relationship wouldn't have to end this way.

I'm sorry to have to do this, but I think it's time we spent some time apart. Me apart from you, and you... well, a part of you will be here, a part of you will end up over there. Try not to think about it too hard.

It's just that our relationship isn't fulfilling anymore. You're slow, you don't pay attention to me, and completely shutting down while I'm still talking to you is just plain rude. And I shouldn't have to deal with this anymore. I am a successful, intelligent person - I demand more!

I have to tell you one final thing, I hope you won't hate me for it later, but I need to come clean if I can ever move on from the scarring experience that has been our relationship these past three years: I've been seeing someone else.

It was nothing at first. We would meet in the library, only for a few minutes between classes. At first, it was just something fun, it didn't mean anything to me. But then, the more time we spent together, the more consumed I became. And after spending the entire summer together, I don't think we can pretend anymore, which is why I am officially breaking up with you.

I know you were always jealous of him. He's a peer, a friend, a coworker, and it killed you that he was always excelled beyond your wildest dreams. But you can just keep dreaming, because tonight, and every night after, my dreams will be of only one man:

Mac.

Sincerely,
Hilary

The Mac is back. Coming to a blogger near you. Fall 2006.

EMOtional baggage

After a night out with the girls, talk turned to relationships, as it inevitably does. After scoping out boys, whom I'm sure we scared off with our air of collegiate worldliness and unattainability, and eating ice-cream, we began talking about our relationships, past and present, and I had to wonder: what do we take from our relationships after we're out of them? Tragically, they don't come with a nice parting gift, a "thank you for dating" card or even the shirt that you bought him. No, all you get is to see a picture of him later, wearing the shirt, with his new girlfriend. Baggage claim is right around the corner folks, and I will definitely be getting in line.

We all have baggage. The tough guys try to hide it, the young teenagers try to laugh it off, and the emo kids just put it all out there for everyone to see. Apparently it matches their eyeliner. But what about the people who don't believe in emotional baggage? What if you're in a happy, healthy relationship? When does relationship history, turn into emotional baggage?

I know that I am carrying around some luggage, perhaps the size of a stylish Louie Vuitton carry-on? After a traumatic first kiss (6th grade, on a dare) to my actual, real, enjoyable first kiss (age 16, behind the scenes during musical rehearsal) to my longest relationship that ended with a bewildering finish (did he lie? did he love me to begin with?) I don't think I'm exactly traveling light.

But I also think that we can learn from the lessons we lug around with us. I know now never to kiss on a dare and that the costumes from "Damn Yankees" are quite the turn-on. And, more seriously, I know to be more careful with my heart, to only give it to someone who values me as a person who is real and fallible, and not just as an entity to posess and admire. And I also know that my emotional Louie Vuitton is not nearly as bad as it could be. After all, what's my carry-on compared to the duffel bag and two rolling suitcases that are divorce, plus childen, or even infidelity? Is is just a fact that the older you get, the more your suitcases weigh?

One of my friends said that relationships are history in the making, and they turn into baggage after the break ups. Others of us believe that we carry the baggage from those relationships with us forever. And some of us, the idealists, believe that a good relationship can unpack the baggage from the past and get us ready for a whole new trip to paradise, if only we have the right travel partner.

I may be getting older, and my suitcases may be getting heavier, but there's always the hope that one day, I will get off the plane, and there at the gate will be someone perfect for me, waiting to help me carry them.

The sexy tollbooth

I'm ashamed of myself, really.

I mean, it's completely normal to go to class and think a guy is cute, or go to the grocery store and make eyes at someone over the oranges (maybe), or even check someone out while at the mall. After all, what is college but an experiment in creative flirtation? But it is not, and I repeat, NOT normal to have a crush on a guy you saw in a tollbooth. And not just AT the tollbooth, like, driving through or hanging around - like, works in the tollbooth, sexy orange vest and all.

Am I getting that desperate? I mean, I'm happy being single for the most part, but now, I've stooped to crushing on people who work in tollbooths? Not that there's anything wrong with working in a tollbooth. Especially not if yer gunna grab some Hot Pockets ter eat while you watch NASCAR when you git home.

And the worst part of it is that I drive on that toll road when I come to and from Ft. Collins, which is a lot, and he only seems to be working on very select occasions. If you're going to take an extra $2.00 every time I drive through, the financial impact should be lessened a little by at least giving me something good to look at.

Perhaps I'm on to something here: ONLY hot men are allowed to work in tollbooths! That way, I'm happy to give up my hard earned money, and they get to sport about in those orange vests, in which they look so sexy.

Shoot with intent to woo

Well, it's Valentine's Day. I have a very full schedule: studying for an American Government exam tomorrow, journal entries for State and Local Politics, I have to complete all my reading, and let's not forget the pining. My homoplatonic life partner and I will be watching "The Notebook" and then we will commence with pining away for the great loves of our lives, and then ask the eternal question "WHERE IS HE?"

Really, it couldn't be more fun.

However, contrary to most years, I am not so upset about it, because we have goals, we have objectives - we have A Plan. A Plan To Woo. Basically, due to the mysterious forces of the universe and the convienient timing of the school schedule, the boys we intend to woo are positioned perfectly and are about to be wooed like they have never been wooed before. Not that they know it, of course, but with a finely tuned plan such as this, they will know it and soon. No, Internet, I'm not going to TELL you the plan. That would totally ruin the Alias-esque stealth of the Plan To Woo. And we are nothing, if not stealth.

And if the goals are not met, we will turn instead, to world domination. Nothing is hotter than a woman in charge. Except maybe a woman in a bikini, in which case I should quit typing and go to the gym...

What are you, FedEX?

Ladies, you know the drill: You're out at a party or bar, meet a really cute guy, exchange numbers, and then blissfully go to bed dreaming of picnics and phone calls the next day. Enter the next day... and nothing. Distraught, you painfully wander the halls of your house, asking your roommates why he didn't call.

By day two, you are still hopeful, but that hopeful is tinged with a touch of anger.

By day three, you have SO lost interest, and when an unrecognized number pops up on your cell, you don't even give it a second thought before silencing it and getting on with your day.

And around we go.

But never fear, because I now have the answer to this question that plagues the female species. I know why he didn't call! Sweet victory is ours at last!

After an insightful conversation with a man whom I have successfully lured into my clutches, (oh don't feel too bad for him, I think he actually likes being in my clutches) I have gotten him to reveal all the secrets of men, one of which is the little-talked about but often-employed Three Day Rule.

Essentially, after making initial contact with a female whom he would like to date, the man must wait three days before calling. Three days! What are you, FedEX?

I was told that you must wait three days because calling the next day makes you seem desperate, and calling the second day makes you seem desperate, but you tried to hide it, which is worse. But calling on the third day gives a man a devil-may-care, I-just-thought-I'd-drop-you-a-line feeling.

Actually, it means you suck.

Please call us whenever it is you feel like talking to us. You don't have to wait three days. We won't judge you. In fact, we might even go out with you.

If I am wrong about all of this, or if you have anything to say regarding this rule (loopholes perhaps?) feel free to comment!

Having a Ball

I just got back from the Denver Military Ball, and despite that fact that my date and I were probably the only quasi-liberals in the room (after all, we do recycle...) we had a fantastic time.

The essence of the night: many and much toasting, wandering around to talk to people with lots of bling on their jackets, ordering drinks, more wandering around (and after a certain point in the night - avoiding people with lots of bling on their jackets and too much alcohol in their bloodstream) more ordering of drinks, drunken kareoke (more fun than you'd think!) running amok in a fancy hotel, dancing with elbows, and playing in the hotel room.

Good thing I don't have bling on my jacket or I'd probably try to recycle it.


Photo of the day: "All dressed up!" c. Hilary Davis