Looking. in Open Diary 2001-2018 (Pre-Prosebox)

So. I went running yesterday and then blew it all on sourdough pancakes with my friend Matt. Not only that, scrambled eggs and mimosas! Dee-lish. My hips are swelling with gratitude. Or something.

It was worth it, though. I always love to see him as he lays on the complements and shows me all of his design ideas. He’s moved into yet another new place, and I swear, the guy gets more creative every day. It’s a small-ish loft that has re-worked hardwoods that came from MY building. I had no idea they were taking the guts out of OUR lofts and sending them across town. Nevertheless, he’s so amazingly creative with this space and has designed these sculptural screens made out of simple boards to divide the space. I wish I’d taken pictures. Have you ever gone to someone’s house and it looks like a modern art museum? That’s Matt’s place.

Later, he took me to a park where I’d never been so he could walk the dog. I’d driven by before, but never stopped and walked around, and it was lovely. He can be such a romantic guy, and sometimes I really wish he were straight. Alas, there’s no changing my sweet Matt at it took him a long time to finally be true to himself.

He broke up with Gregory mere weeks before EXMS and I broke up, and we commiserated together yesterday. It’s still complicated between them, so there were no harsh words from him (and I didn’t expect any). I’m glad I can talk to him about this, but to be quite honest, it’s getting really old. Sometimes it seems that’s the only topic I talk about lately.

In fact, I went out on Friday night with my friend Cindy and her friend Nancy. Just dinner, and when dinner was over, I wasn’t done. They wanted to go home, so I went home too…just instead of gong straight up to my loft, I went to the bar in the basement. Ran into some neighbors. Nice enough, but there was one guy I’d met once before (no, not the guy I spent the night with on the roof of the building—hmmm…did I ever write about that?), and he didn’t know my breakup story. So OF COURSE, I had to regale him with the whole stupid story. And what does he do? He hits on me. That’s right, practically tries to go down my pants before I could finish my second split of Chandon. Is it possible that the story of my broken engagement is such a turn-on to guys? Or is it that when guys hear this story they become predatory because I am now such easy prey as I’m very weak and vulnerable?

But it’s TRUE! Every time I meet a new (or new-ish) heterosexual male and tell him my (sob) story, I end up with hands all over my body and at the very least, a lean-in for a lip-lock. It happened with that law professor in New York, that garmento in Italy, the photographer on the roof of the building, a guy on a plane, and now yet another neighbor.

Ick.. The story is stale, and I’m tired of it turning into an open window for random make-out session attempts.

I’m thinking that I might be ready for “out with the old, in with the new”. And what perfect timing, no? 2008 was such a suck of a year for me. I REALLY look forward to 2009.

I want to write out my list of goals, and I’ve started working on that.

I also need to get everything ready for the New Year’s Bash. It’s going to be a teeny-tiny micro-bash. I think there’s only going to be three of us! But that’s fine. Just need to clean and get snacks prepped. Oh and some bubbly, of course!

And that will be nice. It’s been really lovely and relaxing these last few days (with the exception of the obsession). I’ll say it again: I’m REALLY looking forward to 2009.