So. What’s My Deal? in Open Diary 2001-2018 (Pre-Prosebox)

Do you think maybe I just wanted an extended party week after my 4th of July weekend in Las Vegas? I think I had a little momentum going and was still feeling the buzz. Remember the pool at the Hard Rock Hotel…?

Remember the view from the Wynn Hotel at 5:30 in the morning?

I went out almost every night last week. First with my colleague from Hong Kong. She’s a beautiful, sometimes very reserved, soft spoken Chinese woman. But looks and first impressions can be so deceiving. We had a few drinks (bottle of champagne ++), and oh! Did her confessions come pouring right out. She’s such an international woman of mystery!! I am in awe of her.

We actually went out two nights in a row. On the second night, we ended up at a little tavern on the patio. I was dying to hear more of her confessions, and then these two guys showed up and asked if they could sit at our table. We reluctantly agreed, but weren’t all that interested in their jive.

Yet they were so freaking persistent that we ended up talking and I somehow got scammed into giving one of the guys my number…with the agreement that he’d change his flight to San Diego the next day so that he could stay and take me to dinner. I was so sure that he was bullshitting that I said okay. Well, karma’s a bitch, isn’t she? Because there were weather delays in Dallas and his connection couldn’t go through. So he called me at the office to tell me to get ready to have dinner with him and where would I like to meet?

Met him out, and to my pleasant surprise, he was hotter than I’d remembered from the champagne goggles the night before (not normally the way that works, but I’m not complaining). But the thing is, not only was he good looking, he was grabby too. He did the lean-in way early on (before even dinner), which led me to believe that his intentions were less than charitable and more on the sketchy side.

I tried to gently let him know that there was no way in fucking hell I was going to hook up with him. Perhaps a bit too gently. I was only trying to be nice when at the end of the evening he told me that he’d say goodbye at the door and catch a cab back to his hotel and I told him that it was nonsense…that I’d give him a ride to the hotel because it was on my way home.

I guess he took that as an open door. When we got to my car, he pulled me against him and kissed me gently. And that was fine, but then more forcefully, causing me to back away and completely offend him. Puhlease, asshole. I told you all night that I wasn’t going to do you, let alone let you aggressively shove your tongue down my larynx.

I wish I’d given my number to his friend instead. He had been vying for attention the night before too, but I was joking that I don’t date local guys. Ha-ha. So ironically funny, huh?

Anyway, we’d actually seen him out while we were at dinner. He was taking his daughter out to celebrate her 13th birthday. She was so cute. And so was HE!! These guys were both much more handsome than I’d remembered, but he even more so. And when he said something about having a long day (several surgeries to perform), I nearly slapped my hand across my forehead.

So I drove Handsy San Diego back to his hotel, and he practically jumped out of the car and sprinted to the front door. Good riddance, weenie, but how can I get your friend’s number??

Friday night was actually a bust because I was trying to recover from three outing nights in a row. I fell asleep curled around my laptop. Woke in the middle of the night because I’d missed a phone call, tore off my jeans and continued sleeping.

Saturday was spent running errands and wishing that I was someplace else.

And I had ants in my pants on Saturday night. Severely. I so wanted to go out, but had no one to go with. See, I’ve lost almost all of my phone numbers in the Great Las Vegas Cell Phone Drop of 2005. Not only that, but I’ve really lost touch with my old running buddies in town since I’ve rarely gone out with them during the past year. Jen was out of town. And Parliament was being ever elusive (yes we did play phone tag all weekend).

Spiffed up and went out. Stayed out until 4. Luckily, no wieners in the face, but just enough drink and dance to feel fully party-sated.

I know I can’t do this forever. But why do I feel this need? I sometimes wonder if I look like a desperate thing when I occasionally head out on my own, but it’s not like I’m sitting in the corner or anything, nor am I twirling about like a freak. I’m meeting fascinating people, and…I think I just crave attention. Is this simply the alter-ego to the painfully shy girl I once was? Is it wrong? Is it healthy? I don’t know.

This week is going to be a late-night extravaganza as well. I’m almost exhausted thinking about it. Marketing meetings the rest of the week. The whole sales, PR, and advertising force will be in town. That means dinners, drinks, and other assorted outings from here on out. And Stephan’s coming to town, so that means the obligatory gay bar hopping.

Additional thoughts for the near future;