i, like, love him now. and like, i want to have a family with him one day. but like, he needs to work on his intimacy problems. and like, he’s kind of my boss now too. but you know, love is never perfect, and i can’t help it that i love the shit out of him.

i was being ambiguous in my last few entries, but we started being secret lovers dating back to october, but then i started getting restless adlskjfsakljfsdkajflsakjfs;kadljfs;adjfk; and i fell in love with one of his friends sdkfjadklfjsaklfds;akf and then his friend fell in love with me asdkfjalksfdjslkjfld and then he realized that – holy shit, i’m the woman for him and that he loves me asdkfjsaklfjksladjflksa but then i broke up with him anyway for his friend, who btw lives in NY and is still an awesome dude adkfjsadklfjsklfdsaklfjlksd but then i changed my mind AGAIN and decided that 2 years of being off and on and working on his commitment/intimacy issues wasn’t something i wanted to give up on yet. so then we got together. and we have problems sometimes, but other times, we balance each other out. and he gets that i work a lot, and he works a lot too, and we work together, and we get time apart because we both travel for different clients, but then we also get to travel together for work which feels like a romantic getaway sometimes asdlfjsaklfjsdkaljfalsdjfklsajfklsadjfkslajflkjkladsf man i thought i’d be engaged at 25 and i am nowhere near it and i’m not even sure it’s something i want in the near future alsdkfjaklsdfjklsajfklad boy oh boy do your priorities change as you get older.

Anyway, that’s a summary of my POV over the last few months.

In other news, I’m like, dating two guys right now, at the same time. And they don’t know about each other. But they are friends. Like, they kind of “grew up” together the way that you have to grow up all over again after you graduate from college and start your first job. I don’t feel that bad about it because I’m noone’s girlfriend, don’t owe either of them anything, and I’m not going to be monogamous or proactively tell either of them until I think that any of us are ready to commit.

There’s Guy A and Guy B. They’re both the same age, and are both hotties. I don’t typically date good looking guys, so I always have to point out when they’re actually good looking. They’re both white, but I swear that this is just a phase I’m going through because Asian guys can’t handle me. I am a lot of woman, and white men tend to find this incredibly amusing whereas Asian guys think it’s a headache. I mean, seriously, if you’re a firey Asian woman, and you’re into white guys, you need to move to San Francisco – the world is your oyster.

I started seeing Guy A in mid-October, and I set my expectations very low. He’s a nice guy and all, but he’s not capable of a lot of human emotions, but he always means well. Not trying to sound corny, but I am quite the passionate gal, and if you are awesome, I will love the shit out of you. He’s the kind of guy that makes you feel like you’re another thing on his to do list, and he doesn’t mean to do it, but that’s just the reality of who he is. From the start, I’ve expected nothing of him, and am surprised that I’ve spent at least one night at his place every weekend since we started this. I’m telling you, he’s just not an emotionally giving person at all, and because I’m not sold on him, I give him a lot of space and see our relationship as being “fitting” and “convenient” for two people as busy as we are. I know. Not so romantic. Another thing: no one really knows that we’re seeing each other, because we have too many mutual friends, and we don’t want anyone to make this a bigger thing than it is.

Guy B is..well…I love him already. I met him briefly a few months ago, but it was in passing so I barely remembered him. And then I came in touch with him again at a holiday party a few weeks ago, and what happened was kind of funny…

I spotted him from the dance floor {oh god, I’m mortified already}, and knew I had to talk to him. He was tall, boyishly handsome and looked a little dorky. I love dorky guys and bringing out their wild side – such a cliche. To make a long story short, we talked for a little bit, and I said something that sounds witty when you’re drunk, but is actually idiotic when you think about it sober, like, “I know you’re a white boy, but can you break it down on the dance floor?” {kill me}

We skipped over to the DJ and danced for 10 minutes, and he twirled me around and all that cute shit. He walked away for a brief second, and when he did, I realized that I didn’t remember his name, so pulled our mutual friend to the side and asked about Guy A. When I asked Dumb Friend, he was like, “DARLA! You can’t talk to him! That guy has A KID!”

So I freaked out.

And I ran out of the venue.

And took a very drunk cab ride home.

And then Dumb Friend called me at 3 AM to share some of his sexual exploits, and while he did this, I looked up Guy B on Facebook.

Turns out Dumb Friend thought I was talking about another dude, and Guy B did not, in fact, have a kid.

Phew.

And the best part? Dumb Friend let me in on a secret: Guy B had a big thing for me after the first time we met. So then I put up my defenses and gave my whole, “NO, Dumb Friend, I WILL NOT date ANOTHER white guy with an Asian fetish. YOUR SKILLS AS MY WINGMAN ARE USELESS!”

And Dumb Friend was like, “No, no, he thinks you’re a complete firecracker and he’s asked me about you multiple times – I just didn’t want to hear that speech from you again so I didn’t say anything. But he doesn’t have an Asian fetish.”

So then I snapped out of it, and felt horrible about flipping out and leaving the party early. To make a long story short, Guy B found out from Dumb Friend that I “had a thing” with Guy A {which, haha, isn’t really past tense}. So Guy B goes and ask Guy A for permission to ask me out. Turns out that Guy A starts stammering, gets super territorial and annoyed, but then backs down and says, “Yeah. She’s single. Go for it.”

So, wow. I didn’t know that Guy A would have that kind of reaction at all, but it is what it is. So then Guy B and I go out, but Guy A doesn’t know that it actually happened.

And it was perfect. Seriously.

We had drinks and just talked, and talked, and talked. And I would look up at him with googly eyes, and he would look back adoringly. It was sickening. And you know what? He didn’t even try to kiss me, and I love that, because I have pretty much broken all of my rules with Guy A, and although it feels liberating, it’s nice to be courted in a traditional way.

And then on the next day, Guy B got on a plane to New York. Because, fuck my life, that’s where he lives. And Guy A lives in San Francisco, so that’s why I spend most of my weekends at his place.

Guy B is AMAZING. I honestly feel like I could love him, and I love that he’s in New York. This way, I don’t have to feel guilty about my work hours, and every time I see him, it’ll be a vacation.

Anyway, I have a business trip to Manhattan in January, so I’m going to fly in earlier to spend time with Guy B. You can’t tell very much about people from the first date, but our chemistry was undeniable. He’s the kind of guy that I would want to take care of, roast a chicken on Sundays for, and fold laundry with while watching sitcoms. He makes me want to be a girlfriend again, and I’ve been enjoying being single for a while now.

The scandalous thing is that Guy A is going to be going to be arriving to New York for a guy’s weekend a few days after I arrive. And I don’t know how I’m going to juggle them both. It’s like, an awesome problem to have.

okay, i lied.

sex with exes is totally enjoyable because it’s like riding an old bike that hits you in all the right places when you’re going over a bump on the road.

*moan*

my decision to keep my legs shut for most of my adult life originates from having the majority of my teen years and early twenties revolving around boys. if i was single for a split second, i would have a crush, and after a few months, that very boy would always fall head over heels for me. sometimes he was a jerk, but he always fell in love with my quirky ways. i also ruined a few lives too, but hey, that’s life. because i was always in love, and always had someone loving me back, i constantly thought about marriage. i also had a lot of guy friends that would fuck a bunch of random girls that they deemed disposable, but would chase after seemingly angelic women.

because i was just *so* sure that i would be the perfect little wifey one day, i thought that i should always behave in a wifely manner out of respect for my future husband. this was, of course, only inclusive of my sexual habits, but i happily indulged in a ton of drinking, dancing on tables and other unmentionables. i feared that my conservative (which, at times, is synonymous for brainless) friends would judge me, and that no good man would marry me if i had more than XYZ sexual partners.

and you know what? after finally experiencing non-committal sex this summer, i realized something: i don’t want to marry a man that’s going to judge my sexual history, because that means he’s an asshole with values that i wouldn’t want to raise my future daughter with anyway. besides, any man that’s going to avoid dating me because i chose to experiment with my sexuality is going to miss out on the moves i’m learning on my little sexual adventure. so, hypothetical asshole, enjoy having missionary sex for the rest of your life.

another thing i realized: i don’t actually care about getting married; i care about having children. thankfully, with modern technology and the progressive culture of new york and san francisco, i can now have and raise children, SANS A MAN! yes, i’m serious. if by 35, i don’t find someone awesome to get hitched to, i’ll go to a sperm bank and be a single mother. or maybe i can do this at 28, if i feel like it. this is the beauty of being single. i can do whatever the fuck i want.

i am completely confident of my ability to raise a child with fantastic, progressive values. i won’t be worried about finances or the pressures of not having a second income. my industry doesn’t pay poorly, and i work damn hard, and if i ever feel like i don’t want to work, thank god for the fact that my parents aren’t poor and love children too.

i find the whore/housewife dichotomy unfair, and i will raise my daughter to believe that she can do or be whatever she wants, within reason. i will give her books, encourage her to watch shows, and teach her to paint images that will challenge the male gaze. i will raise my son to respect women and their choices, and to defend his sister if she engages in activities that aren’t deemed ladylike. if my son is gay, i will still love him, and will remind him that he is still very much a man, even if he loves men or expresses sensitivity. i will teach by example, and will continue to be the opinionated, but kind and nurturing person that i am.

another thing i want to say: LADIES, DON’T GET MARRIED BECAUSE YOU DON’T WANT TO WORK ANYMORE. CHOOSE A NEW PROFESSION, BECAUSE, GOD FORBID, IF YOU GOT FAT OR UGLY, YOUR HUSBAND WILL LEAVE YOU, AND YOU WILL BE PENNILESS DIVORCEE, AND CERTAINLY NOT THE FUN TYPE THAT’S ON BRAVO’S REALITY SHOWS. being self-sufficient is empowering and fucking awesome. and if it is your life choice to be a housewife, do not–i repeat DO NOT–sign a pre-nup, cuz you deserve 50% since your ex-husband certainly didn’t amass his fortune without your support.

and this sums up my thoughts from july until now. the end.

You know why?

I spent the whole day fruitlessly flirting with B instead of working when we met up at the coffee shop. FML.

Oh, and I’m totally the girl that everyone in his life loves and thinks he should be with. But he’s emotionally unavailable, which of course, in my fucked up mind, makes him more attractive to me.

I’m swearing off guys for a month. No more stupid crushes and flirting with people I shouldn’t be flirting with. Bad girl. Bad, bad girl!

I don’t know what to make of this, but I was the only non-work related person that he invited to the event. Also, at least 3 of his colleagues insinuated that we should start dating again. One even blatantly said, “Just start dating each other again. It’s obvious. You guys like each other.” Owned. I wonder if this is one of those situations where all of the people in his life think I’m great and great for him, but he isn’t so sure so they’re trying to encourage him OR if this is him being unsure of where I stand with my feelings, so he’s trying to get his friends to feel me out. What do you think? I’m a confused bear.

Oh, and to add extra confusion to the mix, the person that bluntly observed that we *supposedly* like each other is his friend that I’ve been flirting with. WTF. FML. Confused.

Last night was the first night that I actually hung out with him since we broke up. And you know what? He hasn’t changed one bit. He doesn’t drink, and this really bums me out because I drink quite a lot, and want to be with someone that can party with me. I’m 24–I’m too young to not be a raging alcoholic. He’s 27, and he used to get wasted four days out of the week when he was my age. Now, he wants to be healthy and he’s over doing the kind of shit I do every weekend. It sucks. Terrible timing. But God dammit. He is so insanely hot.

In other news, I really need to stop drinking. I’ve had the liquor shits two days in a row. I feel like pure ass right now.

But seriously, it was a really good first date. He took me to a yummy Italian place in Nob Hill. After dinner, we had drinks at one of my favorite bars in the neighborhood. After drinks, we went to his place to watch episodes of The Office. I am MORTIFIED because when we got to his door, he asked me, “What do you expect when you get in there?” Horrified, I responded, “….NOTHING’S GOING TO HAPPEN! I’M A PRUDE!” And then I realized that he was talking about what I expected out of his APARTMENT and nothing dirty. FML.

Anyway, during dinner, I received three phone calls from B. HMM. INTERESTING. Turns out that he wanted to invite me to a private concert that his company is throwing this evening. I tried to see if he was inviting any of his friends, but nope–he didn’t. I wonder what this means. All I know is that I’m going to dress fabulously tonight. Just sayin’.

In other news, while B invited me out to this concert, his buddy that I’ve been flirting with and I have started texting. I’m so shady right now, but I don’t even care.

I’m single and 24–why WOULDN’T I take advantage of this attention? This is the first time in my life that I’m being a player, and I kind of love it.

Don’t get me wrong. Being single is fun, but my GOODNESS! All of this fun comes with such a throbbing headache.

Since we last met, there have been just a few men in my life.

B: I don’t know if B misses me or if this is a reaction to me calling him out for only contacting me when he needs a favor, but he’s been calling me to hang out every weekend. I’ve flaked every single time, but it hasn’t been intentional.

B’s friend: I’m fucked up, yes? Yes–I totally am. I’ve been flirting with one of B’s friends behind his back, but MIND YOU, I kind of wish I dated this guy from the start. The flirting is completely mutual and we also talk about the 10 other folks that we’re both crushing on. He’s witty, smart and keeps me on my toes. He isn’t the hottest guy in the world, but there’s undeniable chemistry between us. Thing is, I think he has chemistry with the other 9 girls he flirts with because he’s the type of guy that makes every girl laugh. In conclusion, the flirting is harmless but we’re still breaking friend/ex-girlfriend code. Whatever. I don’t owe anyone shit.

LA Boy: Still being inappropriate by flirting with him by phone..it’ll never work, but I am still curious.

Dig: When I was visiting DC last year, I went on a date with Dig. Nothing happened because I was still getting over my ex. He was in San Francisco for business last week, and, well……we made out. Yes, I actually made out with someone that isn’t my boyfriend. After the second time we made out, I found out that he has a girlfriend.

That lives in South Africa.

*Sigh.

Why.

I quickly ditched him–I would never want to be the other woman. I even threw up after I found out because I’ve been cheated on, and boy did it hurt.

Shorty: I’m going to call this guy Shorty because, well, he’s short. I don’t typically go for short guys, but on Friday, I brought Dig out with me and my friends. I spent the whole night flirting with Dig at the bar while the rest of my friends partied on. Shorty, who I had just met that night, came up to me and whispered, “If you’re bored with him, I’m sitting over there.” I’m sorry, but that’s just about the most bad ass thing a guy has ever said to me.

Anyway, he heard about what happened with Dig, so he asked me out today. I said yes. Our first date is on Friday. I’m not nervous, because he’s short, but at this point, I’m completely open minded.

That’s my update for the month. Peace out.

Sex. Why can’t I have it “for fun” like everyone else my age?

I think about it a lot. I don’t think about the actual deed as often as I should, but I obsess about how it often hurts me because I am prone to making men wait, building it up in my head and then feeling like I “gave something up.” This can’t be normal for a 24 year old non-virgin, right? Should I just test myself by having a one night stand, just to see if I’m capable of associating with sex as just sex, rather than ADSJFLASDJFLKSAFDKLF?

I actually met someone on Thursday when I was in LA on business. I have a feeling about this boy, but I can’t–we can’t! We are working together. It sucks. There was a lot of lingering around desks and harmless flirting. I can’t put my finger on him. I have a feeling that this is not the last time I’ll write about him on this blog, but I’m putting it on the shelf for now.

I’ve been single, single, single since B and I broke up. As predicted, we had no problem transitioning to being good buddies, but I still refuse to leave his number on my phone permanently as he is HOT, and I don’t want to accidentally sleep with him when I’m drunk. I think he’s confused, because every time he calls, I answer, “Who is this?” Either he thinks I’m crazy or that I secretly hate him since I always “forget” to add his number in my phone. Anyway, until he gets fat or ugly, I’m not adding his number. I am a sucker for tall and hot surfer boys with washboard abs. Fuck my life.

Since B and I broke up, I went on a date with a friend’s friend. We went out 3 times, and not once did I feel the urge to kiss or even hug him. The guy was AWESOME–funny, successful, (kind of) cute and respectful, but for the first time in my life, I just want to be alone. Like, really, REALLY alone.

I still refuse to settle. Why should I?

Similar to CalPal, I’ve recently turned into everything I hate: the Yuppie Douchebag. I find myself doing things like hanging out at the most gentrified building in the Mission, making pasta from scratch. Or organizing wine tasting trips in Napa. The list goes on, but a year ago, I wasn’t open to hanging out with new people, and I certainly wasn’t open to making an effort to do ANYTHING. Oh yea, I got a DSLR too–I mean, getting a nice camera in San Francisco automatically makes you a bonified YDB.

Okay, nothing else to say. I just had to give an update, because God forbid that CalPal is the most popular blogger up in this bitch.