Little Voices in My Head

June 25th, 2008 (Again, BARELY. It’s 0043, and I just HAD to get this out of my brain or Muffy wouldn’t SHUT UP)

Some tips and tricks for those interested in dating a woman like me. They’re not aimed at anyone in particular, but they are based on past and current experience. That’s the reason I’m using the words “I” and “you”. It’s just easier that way. I don’t like to speek for other women, but I’m pretty sure the grand majority of women, espically those who are similarly minded to me, are going to not only back me up on most of these points, but cheer me on! Granted, some of them, like my favorite flower, are pretty much “Carissa specific”. This idea came about when talking to some women out in the ‘pit’ at work, and one of them remarked ‘Why don’t we just post a list of what we want for our men? They’re so lost!’. So I had her tell me a few things she would put on it, and some other women chimed in, and I realized that it’s a damn good idea. Muffy’s been rolling it around her little corner of the brain since then, so here you go!

*I AM NOT PSYCHIC. You have something to tell me? Then just tell me. I’m a big girl now, and I’d appreciate some upfront honesty.

*I’m a sucker for dandelions. Pretty much any wildflower that you actually plucked from the earth with your own two hands just because you thought it would make me happy will do. Dandelions? Oh yeah, total heart-melter. You can actually FIX A FIGHT with a well-timed dandelion.

*It is going to take F-O-R-E-V-E-R to earn my trust. You break it, even once, and you’ll have to work even harder to get it again. If ever.

*I don’t say “I love you” lightly.

*It’s ok to tell me you think someone else is hot. It’s ok to stare. It’s even ok to say you’d like to sleep with them. But the next sentence outta your mouth had BETTER run along the lines of “But I’d rather come home to you, cuz I love you.” or “Even if I did fuck them, I’d want it to be an alternate reality because I love you.” See where I’m going with this?

*Just because I’m on a diet, doesn’t mean I can’t look at the menu too. Trust me, sometimes, I look. But guess who I’m really thinking about during ‘quiet happy pillow time’? You.

*I really am THAT clueless sometimes. I didn’t know that guy was flirting, I thought he was being polite.

*When you compliment me, I try really really hard to belive you the first time. I do. Honest. I try. But some part of me is busy having that knee-jerk reaction that wonders if you’re just trying to make sure you can still get in my pants. Doesn’t mean you should stop with the compliments, because maybe not the 3rd time is a charm, but the 50th.

*When I’m staring at you, and smiling. Sometimes, I’m thinking about jumping you. Sometimes, I’m just thinking about the way you look when you’re sleepy. Learn the difference in the smiles.

*When I say “nothing” in response to a “What’s wrong?”, and we’re fighting…back away slowly, to a safe distance, and ask again. Keep asking. You may have to drag it out of me, because I don’t do ’share time’ well, but once you do, we’ll both feel better.

*Yeah, I CAN do just about everything in my life all by myself, but I WANT you in it. Be grateful.

*Touching me good. Do it a lot. Even when you’re NOT gonna get laid that day. I cannot stress this enough. I really really like touching.

*I have friends. Lots of ‘em. They touch me too. It’s a different kind of touching. Deal with this.

*Lie to me, even if you think it’s a good idea at the time, and you had better be prepared for a fight. A big one. One we may not recover from.

*When you are hurting, expect to be babied. It’s just what I do.

*Using my ears as a fight-deterrent is an unfair advantage and I call foul!

*I will NEVER like your ex. Any of them. I may say I do, I may even hang out with them, share a drink , hug them, and swap brownie recipes. Because I love you, and if you two are cool, then she and I are cool. The MINUTE that bitch makes you the slightest bit hurt/angry/upset again, she’s toast.

*You are expected to be a LITTLE bit jealous/posessive of me. Hold my hand or kiss me if you think a guy is flirting when we’re out in public. That’s ok. Tell me you don’t like it when men ogle me. When I tell a guy “I have a BF”, and he doesn’t back off, FEEL FREE to let loose your inner Gladiator. Just don’t beat someone up in a bar because they said hello. That’s taking it too far.

*I will snatch her bald and scratch her blind if a woman you have told “I have a girlfriend” doesn’t back off you. That is my right. You will smile, nod, and even clap and compliment my right hook if the case applies.

*I will gladly listen to you when you talk about sports, geek trivia, your day at work, just about ANY subject under the sun, because I love you, and I like to hear your voice. Don’t get angry if I ask questions. I just want to understand.

*My past is my past. I’m not ashamed, I won’t sugar-coat it, and I won’t lie about it. I also won’t offer up the information freely. If you really want to know, you’re going to have to ask direct questions and be very very prepared for the answers. You opened that can of worms, you have to deal with the wriggling.

*I’m going to assume you DON’T want me around unless you tell me you do. I won’t take your time for granted, and I expect you not to take mine. I have a job, a family, and friends to take care of too. Tell me when you want me around.

*I exercise because it feels good to me. You can enjoy the flexiblity, enjoy the body, even watch me do it if you want, but don’t even dream of mentioning my exercise routine to me if you notice me NOT doing it. It’s too close to calling me fat. I know it’s a stupid girl logic, but trust me, it will hurt me. I may even cry.

*If I am crying, the shit has hit the fan. You have two choices in this scenario. Fix it, or run. Up to you. 

*I am ALWAYS in your corner. I don’t care what I hear from who about anything concerning you. I am always going to check with YOU first before making any judgement, belive any statement, or even having any emotional response to anything I hear from anyone other than YOU.  I expect the same courtesy from you concerning me.

*If you tell me you need me, I don’t care what mountain I have to move, if I CAN be there, I will be.

*I am sometimes a bit crazy, but let’s face it, I kinda have to be. I chose you, didn’t I?

 

 December 23, 2007. (Barely. It’s 0028, give us a break, it’s early, or late. Whichever.)

     Here is the long awaited update on the “Dating Carissa” series!

     I realized the other day that I had not fully explained WHY dating is such a…big deal, to me. My history with dating has not been pretty. In fact, my dating history usually reads like one of three things: a plodding and epic journey, a comedy of errors, or a tragedy the likes of which has not been seen since those two twits from Verona got screwed over by a misplaced letter. Take your pick. This is why embarking on this “single gal in the dating pool” adventure has by turns delighted and horrified me.
     The horror has come into play simply because I’m afraid of commitment. There. I said it. I’m woman enough to admit it loudly and proudly and in public. The mere THOUGHT of making firm plans with a man more than a week in advance fills me with dread.
I’m not a total freak. I can commit to other things. I have clothing and shoes older and smarter than some 5th Graders. I keep things in my purse far longer than I should on the off chance that someone else may need them, and although I make friends quickly, they tend to be true ones, and life-long. It is only with MEN, dating-type men, that I have this proclivity to keep my feet poised to run, and my emotions coated with WD-40. 
     However, in the last few weeks, I have been sensing a shift in the force. Recently, (aside from the debacle that was “Mr. Normal”) dating has been a (dare I say it?) Thriller! An edge-of-your-seat, nail-biter, gotta-know-what’s-gonna-happen-next, suspenseful blockbuster!

     And yes, it’s scaring the ever-loving snot outta me too.

     I have been dating a man for a couple of months now. You may remember him from a previous entry in the series. He’s the guy from November 9th’s entry. He actually rendered me speechless. He’s also a total geek. (And most of you are now breathing a huge sigh of relief. So are most of the Little Voices.) Because he is a geek, we get along swimmingly. He’s charming, funny, Kind, caring, handsome, (REDHEAD ALRET! OMG. *panting like a dog and trying to hold Muffy, my Lusty-Mallrat Little Voice, down*), and a DAYUM fine kisser. To top off all of these crimes, he’s also made it a point to get to know me.He’s gotten past quite a few of those invisible, but famous, Amazonian defenses of mine. The sarcasm shield, the blase barricade, the withholding emotions walls; things like that. I’m telling you, the guy is trouble. He’s a sneaky, sneaky ninja. (As I’m typing this, I’m smiling and shaking my head, as I can picture he’s doing the same thing as he’s reading it…) 
     We’ve done the “dropping of the girlfriend/boyfriend” bomb thing, met the friends, most of the families, even the “I had a shitty day. Hold me for a bit.”, thing. We’ve dissed our exes, and *gulp* talked openly about JUST about everything under the sun. (Well, as openly as I can talk anyway. You know me, if it’s not funny, I can skip it.) And THAT my friends, is the scary part. It’s not easy showing someone else your scars. It’s a hell of a ride though, and I’m planning on holding on tight, and enjoying every minute of it.
     So what does all of this mean? Has my ‘dating’ switched from the verb form to the noun? (see original post in series) Am I ”off the market”? Has the Heap-Big-Amazon-Queen-Carissa finally been caged? 
     HELLO! Have you not been paying attention?! Hell no! Rich, (Mr. Wonderful’s name, by the way.) and I are both enjoying the ride, but we’re not stupid. We’re free to date whomever we choose. Right now, we happen to choose each other. It’s as simple as that, and it’s good enough for me. It also keeps the antsy Little Voices quiet, which is a nice bonus. 
    

Posted on December 2, 2007. The date took place a couple of weeks ago, can’t remember which day exactly, but in between November 9th and November 20th. To be honest, I think I’m trying to block it out…

     Leaving the Fold

     For those of you who know me fairly well, this will come as no big shock to you. Those of you who are recent additions to my little world: Pull up your squares of carpet and get comfy! It’s Story Time!
     Let’s begin with a bit of review, shall we? I have, in my short 25 years on this Earth, seriously dated 3 geeks, 2 emos, 1 redneck, 2 wannabe-actors, and then married one HUGE paininmyass. (that one MIGHT be a Little Voice talking, but I digress). The only relationships that were really “hey, this guy really understands me” kind of relationships, were with the geeks. I don’t know why I am surprised at this. My boys are all geeks. My family and friends? All geeks. I am, myself, a mini geek. I fly my geek flag high, and proud, and in binary form. I OWN IT. You’d think, that by this time in my life, I would KNOW, without a doubt, that I get along VERY well with the geek aspects of our culture.
     Oh no. I, evidently, am not QUITE that smart. I went on a date with a Normal.
     Notice I did not say: A normal guy. I said “A Normal”. Capitol N. I know, I know, most of you are now shaking your heads sadly, or are screaming at the screen, “Why god, why?!” in your most outraged tone. Well, the long and short of it is, he asked me out. To me, that takes some serious stones. I know how hard it is to work up the gumption to ask a gal like me on a date, and something in me wanted to give the guy a chance. Call it my “Dumbo Drive”. I like it when the little guy wins in the end. Or call it plain ignorance, as I didn’t know he was a capital-N-Normal when I accepted. I’m not CRAZY, I checked him out first. Made sure I wasn’t going to become ‘trunk stuffing’. We exchanged some email, texts, phone calls, blah blah blah beforehand. Got to know a bit about each other. So I THOUGHT this guy was prepared for who and what I am when we had our ‘coffee date’. Oh no. Oh for the love of all things holy, NO.
     He is the single most NORMAL guy ever. He has a normal look about him. No visible tattoos or piercings. (I have six tats, 9 earrings.) He has a normal job. (He’s a legal secretary) He has normal hobbies…like GOLF. (I play with Duck Tape, power tools, and climb trees) He watches normal movies. He’d never even heard of “Army of Darkness”. (I can quote the Book of the Dead) He listens to quiet, normal music. (I can sing just about every Broadway score…EVER written, and most other genres as well) He has a Beagle named after his father. (My cat is named after his first Beer, and a fish named FISH) Do you see my point here? So as we’re both leaving with a handshake and a dumbfounded look on our faces….
     I can tell I have scared the ever-loving snot outta this guy, and because I just cannot let things go, I HAD to ask what power under heaven and EARTH possessed this guy to ask me out. And I kid you not, he actually said: “I have a thing for scary women.” 

I didn’t kill him. That would only have turned him on.

I promise never ever to leave you again, my people, my loves, my geeks. I missed you. Hold me. The normal man scared me. I need a hug…

 Friday, November 09, 2007

Woah! *a la Joey* Current mood: nerdy Well, as promised: Here continues the dating chronicles. It ain’t “Lord of the Rings”, but quite frankly, I ain’t Tolkien. Date last night was…Woah. Very wow. Very Woah. Very cool. Hold your breath people, because I’m about to utter a sentence that has not passed these lips in a long time, and is probably not going to do so for eons to come: I was at a loss for words. Me. Yes, the Carissa you know and love so dearly, was actually shocked and pleased into silence. It went THAT well. So here’s the lowdown: We began the date at El Cerro Grande for some Mexican food, (because nothing says “first date” like heartburn) and we had such a good time talking, that both of our meals got cold, and we drank copious amounts of sweet tea. I of course, have the bladder retention of a small child, and have to run to the ladies. On the way, an ACTUAL small child, *maybe 18 months old* tries to pull the tie of my shirt off, and I have to stop and tell her “no sweetie, that’s mine, but you’re adorable!”, and giggles ensue. Back with my date, as I’m relaying the event, it leads to copious flattery of me IN said shirt by him, which causes much blushing by me, and he receives some serious kudos points for actually inflating my ego and making me blush. I didn’t even know I COULD blush. I’m surprised we made it out the restaurant, the three of us. Me, him, and my ego. Then we visit the Landing. To see Harold the Mighty and Wise Duck. I drove, because, I know where we are going, but I have not taken into account the fact that Harold lives a BIT further out into the tidal zone than the tide at the time will allow for viewing…good thing it was a clear night, and the stars were out. The WOAH part was that we both had a grand time just talking about random shit and walking up and down the beach. Yep, it was a total “chick” moment, and I know your jaws are hitting the floor because it’s VERY unlike me to have enjoyed it. Here’s where it gets funny, and typical Carissa. The section of the beach where the nice, warm log to sit on is located, is quickly being cut off by the tide, so we have to book it out of there. We go to sit down on an easily accessible part of the beach, on some rocks…at 9 at night…in November…it’s 32 degrees out…the rocks are FUCKING COLD. He, wisely, is standing. I sat on the rocks. My ass quickly froze. I was too busy talking and listening to realize my ass was frozen until I couldn’t feel it anymore. Cut film to me jumping up and rubbing the feeling back into my ass. My date, wisely, joked about it. We walked back to the car, where the heater is, and spent the rest of the night watching movies, talking, and generally joking and laughing our asses off. *albeit, mine a bit frosty* So yeah, a great date. Much, MUCH better than the last one, with a different guy, who shall never be named in this blog or anywhere else for that matter, to protect the moronic. I’m actually looking forward to spending time with this guy again. Another oddity for me. Oh, and if the “this guy, my date, and dude” pronoun references are confusing you…um, tough. I’ve known him a grand total of a couple of weeks now, and it’s his business when his name becomes publicly broadcast. Especially linked with mine. Have we learned NOTHING from the benniffer, tomkat, branniston, etc bullshit?

Stupidity in Chat Form

This conversation took place on Nov. 3, 2007, at 9:30pm. *approx* It should be noted that my messenger profile states that if you use abbreviated chat in message windows, I have no interest in speaking to you. It helps me weed out the cruisers that don’t bother to read a profile.

fairfax_in_n_va: hey
Carissa: Hi.
fairfax_in_n_va: how r u
Carissa: Eye arm fyne.
Carissa: Learn to spell.
fairfax_in_n_va: i know how to spell that’s faster
fairfax_in_n_va: and u dont have to be mean
Carissa: Sorry, was trying to be overly sarcastic. Not mean.
fairfax_in_n_va: ur in va?
Carissa: No, I’m not. I have moved to NC. My profile states so, but for some reason, the search engines still list me as a VA resident. Odd.
fairfax_in_n_va: u single?
Carissa: Yes.
fairfax_in_n_va: i am coming to NC then lol
Carissa: LOL funny, as you know very little about me. You must be singulary desperate, or extremely enamored with women who insult you *or appear to*.
fairfax_in_n_va: after i get u in bed, u will want me to insult u
Carissa: I doubt that very much. Many have tried, few have lived to tell the tale of their pathetic efforts.
fairfax_in_n_va: if we meet, u will beg me to sleep with u
Carissa: Again, my doubt factor rises. I don’t sleep with men on a whim. I don’t even sleep with men on a well considered thought. You don’t stand an outside chance.
fairfax_in_n_va: well dont worry u dont look like ur my type anyway
Carissa: Finally, you get the point. Took you long enough.
fairfax_in_n_va: u think ur little smart but ur not with ur words
fairfax_in_n_va: write a book
Carissa: I love it when people defeat their own arguments.

Thursday, August 09, 2007

Clarification Sorry about the confusion caused by my previous blog. Since my dear friend Heather is now the FIFTH person to ask, No, I’m NOT in a relationship with any one individual. I am dating, as in the verb: to date. I’ve been asked out and gone out on several dates with different men now, and while I haven’t really felt “the heat” or “commitment” with any of them, I’m having loads of fun. In fact, I’m thinking of starting a dating blog series. Some of the dates have been torture, some have been loads of fun, and I made a new friend on them, and some have been so hilarious that they must be shared! Like the 45minutes of my life that I wasted with a gentleman from here in Havelock. He reminded me so much of a ‘boyfriend’ I had in middle school, that I called him by the wrong name. Yeah, it was that creepy. The dude was dullsville in a wet blanket. All in all, I’d rather have been at the dentist…getting all my teeth removed. But that’s the bottom of the barrel of the dating. The top is a very nice guy I went to dinner with in Greenville, and while we’re probably not life-mates, he has become a good friend. So yeah, sorry about the confusion. But I’m so glad you all care about me so much. Makes my little heart just SWELL to think you’re happy for me. Thanks!