Returning to London: Part I - The All Nighter

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The smell of the plane as I entered the walkway to board made me feel nostalgic. It had been more than 3 months since I had last boarded a plane - the longest time in at least 5 years that I had been away from this mode of transportation. I do not particularly enjoy flying and suffer from anxiety before flights (I have a strong fear of dying on a plane), therefore I was surprised by the nostalgia I felt for something that I had formerly decided I hated. 

I was very pleasantly surprised by the fact that the plane was less than half full and I had 2 empty seats to myself. Even more pleasantly surprised was I by the fact that when I asked for red wine (oh yes, after the 10 day detox I was right back to drinking), the flight attendant says, "You know that American charges right?" 

"Yes," I said.

"Well, I don't."

Seriously. Isn't that the BEST line from a Flight Attendant ever? So, I stretched out in my two seats and enjoyed two free red wine bottles courtesy of the awesome flight attendant on American Air! What a nice start to the trip!

I arrived in London at 7 am Friday morning and met my colleagues who had flown on another flight (a crowded BA one) and since our rooms at the fabulous Sloane Square hotel weren't ready, we had a leisurely breakfast at the hotel and then went and took long naps and then went for a long session at the gym (yes, we chose the gym over shopping in London - sad I know but bikini season is just around the corner and stuff).

I had been planning my return to London carefully. I wanted to see as many people as possible during the course of the trip. Why not kick it off with an after work gathering at a local pub and invite everyone I knew? Well, why not? That's just what I did. The Facebook invite to the event had been sent a couple weeks before and many colleagues and old friends planned to attend. I also invited blogger friend Life Begins at 30ty who had moved to London just as I moved back to the US. I was excited to meet her and she did not dissapoint. First of all she is beautiful - I can see why Matt79 is smitten. Hell, I was smitten! Second of all, she was fun (see her version of the night here and here - and you should check it out because she sheds light on some different details that I'm not going to go into for various reasons). And third of all, she's just a  really cool down-to-earth girl with lots of great life experience and good stories. I regret that I'm no longer living in London. I would love to hang out with her more! 

Also present were M and T and Sexy Single Friend A who you might remember from the London stories. It was great to catch up with them. It was great to catch up with everyone. I loved seeing my old colleagues and friends. It felt as if I had never left. And I felt very nostalgic for London. For old friends. For old times.* 

We filled ourselves on beer and gorged ourselves with bar food (fish and chips for me). And too soon the lights came on and the music was turned off and the bartenders were asking us to leave.  

But we weren't ready to call it a night yet. Oh no! The night was young. Bars close at 11 in London. So, we decided to go back to the scene of many drunken crazy nights good times during my time in London - good old Valmont Club. We were a smaller group than the pub crowd. But I was excited that Life Begins was going to join as well as M and T, Sexy Single Friend A and my colleagues traveling with me from Boston and various other people. 

Upon entering Valmont, we realized that we hadn't really been there on a Friday night before... 

But no worries. It didn't matter that the club was empty and that the awesome dj was not playing awesome music (the music was a bit of a bummer). We grabbed one of the weird padded VIP rooms in the back and ordered countless glasses of champagne and we made our own fun! 

On my way to the bar, I managed to bump into a young (i.e. 25) Spanish guy who when I asked him to guess my age and nationality decided that I must be a 23 year old Swedish woman. I was obviously flattered and proceeded to make drunk small talk with him until he tried to kiss me and then I realized that I needed to abort and run back to my friends. He continued to circle around me all night and for some silly reason I gave him my name and told him we can be Facebook friends. Oops. See, the thing is that I've been a little attention-starved lately due to the fact that men in Boston don't seem to be into me... So, I have to say, I did enjoy the flattery. However, I think it might be time to DE-FRIEND. 

Back in the VIP room the single gals of the group turned the conversation to dating and how men are just idiots. And then Sexy Single Gal E topped it all with a crazy story of a first date that somehow managed to end in Face Licking before she got up and went to the bathroom and left him there! We had a good laugh and drank some more and before we knew it the lights came on and we were once again the lights came on and we were being hustled out the door by the bartenders. 

But we STILL were not ready to go to bed. The night was young and we were drunk on champagne and jet lag. My Boston colleagues and I safely escorted Life Begins to her night bus and we headed back to the hotel to have an after party. Because that is obviously what you do at 5 am in London when you have arrived off a flight from Boston that very day and have already shut down a bar and a club. 

So, we cranked up the music (oh the other hotel guests must have loved us) and soon-to-be-married B entertained my other colleague and I with her crazy dancing and we polished off two more bottles of wine (they were weird medium sized one but still, so not necessary) and suddenly we looked at the clock and realized it was 7 am!!!!! How did it get that late? I mean that early? Where did the time go? How am I still standing having hardly slept at all? Obviously it was time to bed. So, we all decided to finally call an end to a fabulous night and go catch up on our much needed beauty sleep. Cuz after all, this was only day one of the trip!

This concludes part I of the London portion of the trip. Stay tuned for part II where I meet a guy in women's rest room and go on an awesome date and then get on a flight bound for Stockholm. 

*Much more on this topic later. I'm going to give you the fun details and fill you in on the more crazy activities of the trip and then give you my more serious reflections. This trip definitely brought a lot of emotions and thoughts to the surface and made me strongly reflect on my life. But more on that in a later post. 

Dating Update and a Challenge

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I'm not sure exactly what I was thinking... but I did think that it would be easier to meet men when I moved home. I'm not really sure where I got this idea from although I think that the following thought process did take place:

While living abroad, I found it hard to meet men because I was so transient. I was always jetting off somewhere for work. It made it hard to date someone cuz when I met them I would be like, I'm off to Asia, then the US and then Sweden and I'll be back in 3 weeks so how does that sound? Umm... yup. It sounded crazy. Men found it intriguing but not really conducive to dating. On top of that I worked long long hours and didn't have a lot of free time to devote to dating.

I also heard from numerous men that I gave off a strong sense that I was not ready to settle down. I was pretty open about the fact that I wasn't ever sure when work would move me next (i.e. don't get too comfortable with me boys, cuz I'm not here for good). I was also open with the fact that job aside, I wasn't really sure that Sweden (and definitely not London) was going to be the place I called home for the rest of my life. I was pretty sure I wanted to live in the US again at some point for some time. I heard from multiple men multiple times that these things were a bit of a turn off or at least a deterrent for a long-term serious relationship. Believe it or not, most men weren't really up to switching continents for me.

Another thing that had a big impact on me and my reasoning on it will be easy to find a guy if I move home, was that a good Swedish friend of mine who moved to London decided to move back to Sweden and she instantly met the love of her life. Her happiness, her awesome new relationship and her outlook on the whole thing caused me to take a look around at my friends and I realized that when they made positive changes to their lives, positive things happened to them. I thought that for me making the positive change to move back to Boston and cutting the cord on The Company controlling where I lived, that this would be it.  I would finally find my positive place and positive things would start to happen to me. I would finally be in a place where I could meet someone.

So, I guess I thought it would be easier. Instead, it's been harder than ever! I'm in a SERIOUS dry spell here people! Other than a ego-deflating and embarrassing dalliance with a co-worker that I can't really blog about (I have to say though that I think I'm still a bit stung from this one) and the random boy on New Year's Eve (who I was supposed to see again until he called me a million times and I got freaked out and told him to never contact me again - yup that's how awesome my life is), there have been NO men in my life since the hot but brief British country-side romance in September. Four months ago. Ugh.

Every day I feel a little bit more like an Old Maid - the only single girl left in the pile (even I'm Attractive Single Friend C is potentially off the market). It's kind of freaking me out. Especially since I have almost no single wingmen (or women as it may be) to go out and cause trouble with. Clearly, it was time to take drastic measures. So, I finally switched over my Match.com account to the US one.

I swear that I went in with a good level of optimism, but I have to say that I'm totally unimpressed.

First of all, I'm not getting nearly as much attention as I did while on the International Match site. I'm not exactly sure why.

Second of all, the men in Boston do not seem to be that hot or that interesting. And most of them are short. I mean really short. Like 5'8 short. Ugh.

Third of all, the men I wink at, don't wink back at me! (Which I guess is a similar statement to point number one).

Here are the sad statistics so far: 

Number of days on Match: 7

Profile Viewed: 854 times

Winks Received: 58

Winks Sent: 17

Reciprocal Winks: 3

Emails Received: 22

Emails Sent: 2*

Someone please tell me. What am I doing wrong? I'm trying to figure it out.

My London profile got a lot of attention - so much so that I couldn't keep up (I would sometimes get over 100 winks a day). Maybe it's because that site was better** (i.e. more technologically advanced and more user friendly) or maybe there were more men on it. I'm not sure... I guess it would make sense as London is obviously a much bigger city than Boston. But, essentially my profile and pictures are the same (with just a few updates -i.e. I'm no longer an American living in London).

Or maybe my strategy is off. I wink at men, but I'm kind of shy. I usually let them email me first. So, if I wink and nothing happens, I just let it go. I know it's silly but I still kind of want the men to make the first move. Although again, this was the strategy I had on the International Match and it worked out ok.

Or maybe it's because my profile is to harsh. Because I got so much attention on that International site -and mostly from the wrong type of guys (lots and lots of them with half-naked pictures), I felt like I had to try to put up some boundaries so after spending at least an equal amount of page space describing myself, I wrote the following - which did help a little bit - but maybe it's a bit too harsh for the US? What do you think? It's not really deterring the short or old men anyway...

I'm looking for a guy who is interesting and interested. Someone spontaneous and ambitious who is not afraid of adventure. Someone who is up for partying all night but doesn't mind staying in reading a book in bed. Someone who is open-minded, interested in traveling and could see themselves living abroad. Someone who is active and wouldn't mind going for a run on the beach or hitting the gym with me. Someone who challenges me and has something to teach me. Motivation and curiosity are definately sexy. 

I have a thing for tall men. If you are under 6 feet tall, it's not going to work. If you post pictures of yourself bare chested posing in front of the mirror, you are also probably not my type. And I prefer younger men (in general younger than me). So... men over 36 sorry... most likely, not going to happen.

And by the way, I can't cook so it's better if you do..

Anyway, I think it's time for some drastic measures. Life Begins at Thirty - a fellow blogger in London - had an interesting idea by issuing a dating challenge. She asked her readers to suggest ways for her to meet men and then she composed a list of dating challenges she would try out and then write about her experience. Her idea is a good one. I think I'm going to steal it. So, what do you think? What kind of dating challenges would you propose for me? How should I meet men?

*I responded to two men who wrote to me. The first never wrote me back a second time. The second, well we'll see. I just wrote him back an hour ago.

**A couple years back the International Match or the UK one at least and the US one split and they are actually really different from each other now. The International Match is much better.

New Year's Eve

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New Year's Eve and I are not really friends. Every year I dread this night as I listen to friends make fabulous plans and realize that I don't have fabulous plans of my own. Every year I fret about what to do and who to do it with, what to wear... and almost every year it comes down to the last minute and I have no real plans.

And unfortunately, New Year's Eve is also a couples night. If you are in a relationship, you obviously hang out with that person. For those of us not in a relationship... well, New Year's Eve becomes much harder.

But seriously? Is New Year's Eve not the most hyped up night ever? I mean at the end of the day, it's just a night like every other night. But for some reason, there is this need for it to be perfect, and memorable and magical and whatever other bullshit adjective you can think of.

I've had some good New Year's Eves in the past... although not many. I often spend the night with my brother and I have to say that I always have fun with him. When we were children we used to spend it with our "Other Brother" (i.e. the son of my parent's best friends who we spent lots of time with as children). They would get us a baby-sitter and buy us party hats and decorations and the poor babysitter would then have to deal with us running around the house and making noise until after midnight.

Memorable New Years including ringing in the New Year with my brother in San Fransisco which was fun because I made him buy like $100 of NYE party decorations just like when we were little and we drank LOTS of champagne and the best part was "Other Brother" was even there to celebrate with us as he lives in San Fran (you might remember his wedding this summer) so it was just like old times but with alcohol which obviously made it more fun.

I have also rung in the New Year in New York City with my brother and the Beautiful Swede where we spent way too much money on a hotel room and a party although I still kind of think it was worth it cuz it was reall fun.

There was a New Years' spent in China with the Scottish boy. Let me tell you - Sooooo anti-climactic since Chinese do not even celebrate it. We actually were in a taxi when it turned midnight although we didn't notice until later. I then proceeded to sleep for 2 hours on the bar (jet lag - I had arrived from the US that morning) and then get in a massive fight with the Scottish boy for allowing me to sleep in the bar for 2 hours rather than doing the right thing and taking me home. "You were having fun!" he said.

I spent a much better New Year's with the Scottish Boy in Scotland where we stayed in a castle (this was my first experience staying in a castle long before this became a regular occurrence in my life - seriously, I have stayed in at least 3 castles in the last 7 months - although obviously those days are over as there are no castles in Boston) Actually, this was probably the best New Year's Eves ever as we just stayed in and had a cozy fire and the Scottish boy cooked me a romantic dinner (and I pretended to help) and then we had champagne and took a bubble bat - bubbles and bubbles: my favorite combination.

Last year however was a tough one as I was still getting over the Beautiful Swede who had been nice enough to inform me that he "really missed me" but he had a date for New Year's Eve (this was exactly 2 days before I decided never ever to speak with him again), so I spent New Year's Eve moping, missing him and being the only single person at a couples party in Connecticut.

This year I thought about totally skipping New Year's altogether. Flight tickets for Sweden were too expensive and with a project launching at work, it wasn't really an option. And as most of my friends these days seem to be married and having kids and even my single partner-in-crime I'm Attractive Single Friend C had a date with a guy nicknamed McSteamy (seriously, who has a first date on New Year's Eve - that's I'm Attractive Single Friend C for you though and from what I hear it was definitely steamy), I once again had no plans.

Luckily a new friend, Gorgeous Single N, invited me along with her friends who were planning to go for dinner at Harvard Gardens.

And since Gorgeous Single N was nice enough to let me borrow her friends for the night, I decided to invite the group over to my apartment to pre-game it before going to dinner (luckily I was not too hungover from my escapades the night before). Of course, as this was New Year's Eve, I decided that this should be a classy affair with shrimp cocktail and champagne (because that's how I roll). So, a random group of New Year's Eve single misfits gathered at my house. We were a motley crew for sure as many of us observed throughout the night. While some of our group new each other closely, most of us knew just one other person. It was all a bit random but that's what made it all kind of fun.

One of the women brought a huge bag full of party hats and decorations and noisemakers. She called this "flair" which I've never heard it called before but I thought it was a fantastic name! And I was so happy since it reminded me of New Year's Eves past. I LOVE "flair" and I'm usually the one to bring it but had forgotten about it this year so I was really glad that someone else had thought of it. 

Example of "flair"
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Highlights of the night include:

• Walking into Harvard Gardens wearing our New Year's Eve party hats and "flair" and making lots of noise with noisemakers so that everyone else was starting at us
• Our table that was literally "created" for us on the dance floor so we were literally sitting in the center of a busy restaurant (this was due to us booking late and continuing to add more people)
• Being the loudest and the most obnoxious table at the restaurant with all our noisemakers and party favors
• Bringing our own New Year's Eve Centerpiece with us to the restaurant (courtesy of me from a NYE party I hosted in Sweden - yes, I apparently carry party decorations around the world with me).
• Handing out noisemakers to the children at the table next to ours (I'm sure their parents were thanking us)
• An engaged man in hot pursuit of a girl in our group (Seriously? Are all men assholes? Or are all men just totally stupid? I mean why announce right off the bat that you are engaged then pursue her all night? At least lie!) 
• A whole slew of boring men that took turns talking to the girls in our group including the obnoxious investment banker and the over-enthusiastic marathon runner whose goal in life was to run a marathon on all 7 continents
• The unfortunate appearance of Gorgeous Single N's ex-boyfriend (there was no stalking going on, just a sad coincidence - I mean who wants to be stuck at a bar with your ex on New Year's Eve)
• The fact that Gorgeous Single N's ex-boyfriend has been such a jerk to her that several girls in our group had to go up and give him a piece of their mind and stick up for their girl(he was a big JERK - so much so that I might have to blog about it later when I write an inevitable blog about why all men are assholes)
• An unmemorable count down with no fun boys to kiss at midnight
• The appearance of a cute boy later who made up for the lack of kisses at midnight
• An after party at my place (further endearing me to my neighbors I'm sure)
• Having a fun night with other single people

And while I can't say that it was the best New Year's Ever, I can say that it turned out to be a random and fun night and I made some new friends. Thanks to Gorgeous Single N and all her awesome friends for making it so great!

Happy New Year to everyone! I'm looking forward to hear how you spent the end of 2010 and what you have in store for 2011!

Clearly this next week will be about reflections and resolutions. Stay tuned!

XOXO

One Night in Boston

Let me please preface this blog by saying that I'm Attractive Single Friend C put me up to this. And by this, I mean this blog post.

She felt our night was blog worthy. And while I couldn't totally disagree... I felt that this night was more sleep worthy than anything else***, but because she's awesome, and I love her, well I'm humoring her. And at the same time, I'm offering you dear blog friends a disclaimer - I might be a little more than tipsy while writing this. If you disapprove, stop reading and come back tomorrow. I'll be sober then. If not... well keep on reading!

So, back to tonight. Let me start by saying, I wish that I could leave work at 4:00 every day. Today we had an early dismissal at 3:00 but because I'm awesome, I stayed until 4:00. And then I found time to do healthy things like run for an hour before embarking on a weekend of drinking. Seriously. It was a good thing.

At 8:00 pm I found myself meeting I'm Attractive Single Friend C and Hot Married Friend S at the Liberty Hotel for dinner at Scampo. Dinner progressed as dinner between girls should with lots of sex talk and a discussion on whether or not I should throw a sexy lingerie (i.e. you have to wear lingerie) party here for Valentine's Day (I have done this with much success in Stockholm although was met with much resistance from the girls here - we'll surely come back to this topic). We got through dinner without much weirdness unless you count the guy next to us wanting to "borrow" a breadstick from us.

Next, we decided to explore the bar scene.  I'm Attractive Single Friend C and Hot Married Friend S quickly deemed downstairs Clink to be "too crowded" so we headed upstairs to the equally crowded but more spacious bar space there. After a small altercation at the bar where by innocently speaking to the guy at the bar next to me, I managed to bring on the intense wrath of his wife, I'm Attractive Single Friend C had a great idea to sit down in some empty chairs but suddenly a waif-like waitress came up and forcefully removed us by assuring us that "Ryan" who had reserved the table was on his immediate way and we could absolutely not sit there for one single second longer.

So we humored the waitress and got up and then we watched "Ryan's group" enter. They appeared to be a young group of Douch Bags. * And they seemed extremely drunk. It was seconds before they were talking to us. I think that their entry conversation had to do with something about if we saw someone spit on someone else. I kid you not - it was that bad.

I'm Attractive Single Friend C, being the mature person that she is, suggested that we leave immediately but for some reason (perhaps my own immature inclination to stay) we didn't do such a thing and instead remained and soon found the absurdness of "Ryan's Group" deteriorate into further hilariousness that we couldn't help but to appreciate and participate in.

Ok - so what that they were average age of 24 and we told them that it would be impossible that we could be no older than 28? And so what that I figured out who "Ryan" was and even though he claimed to live in London and was kind of cute but he ended up being a total DB?** So what if they were amusing themselves by hitting each other? So what if this one bald guy was begging us not to leave because he was only 26 and we were definitely not that older than him? So what if we decided to end the shenanigans early (much to my dismay) and move on somewhere else? So what if that somewhere else should have been home (tomorrow night being New Year's Eve and all)? So what if we instead went to Harvard Gardens, the Hill and the 21st Amendment? So what if we drank 3 drinks at the 21st Amendment?

SO WHAT?

I'll tell you SO WHAT? It was a funny night. I laughed and I laughed and I laughed A LOT. But now it's after 2:00 and I'm home and I'm a little more drunk than I wanted to be and I'm not really looking forward to New Year's Eve. That's what's SO WHAT!

*Note that it was not me who described them in such a way. I'm still not comfortable enough here in the USA to use the terms Douch Bag although it does seem widely spread.
**DB = Douch Bag (doesn't it sound better)?
***Editor's note the day after - I have NO idea what I meant by this. And there are a few other sentence constructions that don't work out very well either. Sorry!

A Visit From Nomad Boy

I know you are all waiting for an update on my weekend with Nomad Boy.

I wish that I could give you a hot and steamy update and tell you that the International Woman of Mystery and Nomad Boy are totally meant to be! I wish I could tell you that it was the most awesome weekend of my life and that I can't wait to see him again.

Unfortunately... the only thing I can say about this weekend is that it was a border-line disaster. Nomad Boy and I just weren't on the same page at all. He has not really matured or progressed since the last time we saw each other. I hate to say it, but he's kind of a loser with no job, no money, and a whole lot of bad luck following him around. And while he might still be beautiful and a bit mysterious and in some moments, he still makes my heart flutter like it did when I was a teenager, I'm way to old and practical for a guy like that.

To summarize - it was DISAPPOINTING - to say the least. On my way home from dropping him off, I called  I'm attractive single friend C for a bitch session and for the first time in my life bemoaned the fact that unfortunately, I'm not attracted to women because that is how DONE I feel with men right now. This disappointment stacked on top of another one that I'm not ready to blog about has done me in. I am DONE WITH MEN!

I don't want to drag you through all the gory details nor do I want to virtually re-live the weekend (I already feel sad that it's one weekend that I will never get back).

But to give you some insight into what went down, I will leave you with the following list:

Dear Nomad Boy - here is what NOT TO DO when visiting any hot girl that you haven't seen in years:

• Do not not have a phone - it's just annoying and makes meeting up with you and coordinating things that much more frustrating
• Do not not have a winter jacket. Seriously. Especially if you grew up in New England - it's December in Boston - it's freaking cold. You should know that.
• Do not tell me that we should do fun things like go ice skating and walk around Boston and get me all excited as those are exactly the things that I want to do and then get here and decide it's too cold to leave the apartment (well, of course it's cold if you don't have a winter jacket).
• Do not sit around like a total stoner all weekend watching mindless You Tube videos and smoking and trying to get me interested in what you are watching. I might humor you but it's not how I really want to spend my time.
• Do not criticize Boston and tell me that you could NEVER live there - especially after I have expressed to you that I'm feeling a bit freaked out about having just moved back.
• Do not keep turning up my heat as high as it can go every time I turn around - I have to pay for that shit! Some of us have adult lives with adult responsibilities and bills...
• Do not let me pay for the bill every time and then call me "Sugar Mama."
• Do not wake up at 7:00 in the morning (after going to bed at 4) and try to convince me to have sex with you (when I'm obviously not feeling it) and then keep me awake. Seriously. I have a job and I need to sleep on the weekends! 3 hours sleep is totally not sufficient and it throws me off for the rest of the week!
• Do not pick random fights with me in the bar just to pick a fight
• Do not purposefully try to make me feel bad by criticizing me about little things such as being with one company for 10 years and implying that this makes me less attractive on the job market when you do not even have a job at a all!
• Do not pick fights with me about topics involving my line of work and then tell me that there is no way that I can  possibly know more on the subject than you even though you have no way to back up your argument.
• Do not instigate drama in any way - why would you do that? Who wants to fight?  Not me!
• Do not talk about all the bad relationships you've had in the past (although the inevitable drama and fighting parts of the story were at least insightful and made me realize that this is probably a pattern with you and probably has very little to do with me).
• Do not tell me that I'm acting weird and "psychotic" when I'm being quiet because I'm upset at the way you are treating me and I'm secretly wishing you would leave. I'm sorry that I chose to be quiet rather than to fight back and engage you in a fight. Fighting with you just seemed pointless and worthless. You just weren't worth it to me. I decided to endure and be rid of you rather than fight back.
• Do not make me drive you to Worcester to meet your father who you have also made drive to Worcester from W. Mass to get you - there is a perfectly fine bus going between here in W. Mass. I have taken it many times. For someone who has no money and no job... I don't think you should feel that you are so above that.
• If I do decide to give up most of my Sunday evening and drive you to Worcester, do not criticize my driving and generally be mean to me during the car ride
• If I do decide to drive you to Worcester, do not forget the address of where we are supposed to meet your father, and if you do forget it, do not get mad with me for not being able to find the place (especially when you had never told me the address in the first place)
• And after all that, do not jump out of the car and forget to thank me after I drive you all the way to Worcester (a 2 hour and 45 minute trip since I spent forever driving around in Worcester trying to find the place and another 30 minutes trying to find parking when I got back to Boston).

Unfortunately, that is the list. All those things really happened. And that list probably doesn't even scratch the surface... I'm blocking out everything else out. Clearly he is self centered, selfish and lacks any kind of manners... My biggest regret is now my beautiful memories of him will be tainted by this horrible weekend.

Despite feeling a bit beaten up by men... I'm trying to look on the bright side. Look forward rather than backwards.

I have a new work friend - super sexy A and she has promised to finally introduce me to some Boston nightlife/men this weekend. I can't wait! It will truly be my first weekend in Boston where I don't have tons of commitments. I can't wait to get out and explore the city, do some shopping, check out the Christmas lights etc. Ok in reality, we might be doing more checking out the Boston nightlife than anything else which means I might be hiding out in my bed hungover during the day. But even that would be an improvement over last weekend with Nomad Boy!

So, while I feel like I'm done with men... I guess I'm not totally ready to give up yet. Let's see what the weekend has in store.

It's Raining Men Part II

Thanks for tuning in to my "It's Raining Men" series Part II. Haven't read Part I yet? Do so here.

When this International Woman of Mystery last left you, I had been telling you about the attempted. yet averted kiss from Locker Boy and had been alluding to juicy omissions I may or may have not made on this blog. I also told you that I was not done talking about boys... there is one more boy to talk about.

As for Locker Boy... well, I have yet to return his last text message to me asking me to go to the symphony with him in Boston... I know. I'm feeling bad enough. Don't rub it in.


As for the juicy omission it might be because:

a. It involves a colleague
b. It involves a guy with a girlfriend
c. It involves a lot of alcohol and is therefore a little bit blurry and non-sensical
d. It is a little bit embarrassing
e. I haven't managed to process it enough to write about it
g. It is still playing out and I realize it's either too premature to write about it or I might never be able to
h. All of the above

Moving on...

There is one last boy to make an appearance on the It's Raining Men Series... And I felt like he deserved a whole blog post in itself.

So, without further ado... INTRODUCING NOMAD BOY!!!!

Nomad Boy and I have had a long history together. Let me tell you about it...

I met Nomad Boy when I was 19. That summer I had been living on Martha's Vineyard. The final night I was there, K one of my best friend's from home, came out to visit and help me move back. She talked about going to a party where there was a guy who I would "love." I remember her describing him as a long-haired skater boy (totally my type back in those days). He was a friend of a friend from a town close to our hometown. Well, we never made it to that party and I soon forgot about the cute skater boy she was supposed to hook me up with.

I moved back home to my parent's house for the final weeks before school started again. And a couple weekends later, I went with K to a party in the town next to ours. I didn't really know the people at this party, nor did I have any idea who lived in the house. But while looking at the family pictures on the walls, I recognized a girl who I had worked with at my summer job during previous summers. However, I didn't see her at the party.

So, I'm sitting in a bedroom on the floor and suddenly this super cute long-haired skater boy walks in and points at me. "You." He says.

"Yes?" I say.

"You're that girl!"

"What girl?" I say innocently and flirtatiously - I mean this guy is seriously hot and oh-so my type!

"You're that girl on the Vineyard." He says. And suddenly it clicked - he must have been the guy my friend was telling me about...

I tried to play it coy "What girl on the Vineyard?" I asked. Anyway, we chatted for a bit and I told him that apparently I knew his sister. And we made the usual comments about small world etc. (remember this is like 1997 way pre-Facebook when degrees of separation were so less in your face and encounters like this still seemed weird and random yet meaningful).

And later on that night we found ourselves alone...

"It's so strange," he says. "You know how you make up lives for people in your head? Well, I totally did that with you. I saw you all the time on the Vineyard - you always hung out with that blond skater boy and you worked in that shop and you always wear headbands." Wow. I thought to myself, he must have been totally stalking me from afar because boy had the details down. But he was hot so I decided I was more impressed than creeped out.

"And," he continues. "I thought that you were a Vineyard girl and lived there all year long and that the blond boy was your long-term boyfriend. And then I come home from the Vineyard to find you sitting in my bedroom and find out you're from the town next to mine."

"Funny how that happens," I said. And then he kissed me. And that kiss launched the adventures of Nomad Boy and the International Woman of Mystery - a story that has dragged on for 12 years and has yet to play itself out.

I went home that night slightly tipsy and overly euphoric and I woke up my mother to tell her in a typical International Woman of Mystery over-dramatic fashion, that I had met the guy I was going to marry.*

I can't say that Nomad Boy and I ever had a serious thing. We haven't. What we've had is a series of summer flirtations and random hook ups, stolen kisses on the couch in his basement while his dad watched TV in the room above us, many steamy late night conversations, flurries of exchanged emails, gmail chats, facebook messages and (sometimes dirty) pictures. We've also had years where we haven't seen each other and we've had many "just missed" connections were we thought we would meet up, but at the last minute it didn't work out - like this summer when we had plans to meet up in San Fran but he suddenly moved to Hawaii just days before we were supposed to meet (the life of a Nomad Boy is this way I suppose).

I sometimes blame our lack of substance on the fact that Nomad Boy and I have never lived in the same place at the same time. Our colleges were nowhere near each other. And since college I've been jet setting around the world and he's been wandering around the US... But for some reason, we have managed to keep in touch all these years which in days LONG before cellphones and when Mark Zucherburg was still in diapers, this was a BIG deal. We actually had to work at staying in touch by doing things like calling eachother's parents houses to find out how to contact each other. Of course in the later years we eventually moved to email and more recently Facebook (Nomad Boy is one of those strange people without a cell phone).

So, to bring you up to the present date... A couple weeks before Thanksgiving, Nomad Boy contacts me via Facebook to tell me he's going to be around the Boston area for Thanksgiving. We were supposed to meet up last Wednesday night in Boston but in typical Nomad Boy style he cancels at the last minute (I'm proud to say that I've finally learned not to be dissapointed by him - or any boy these days). We've been in touch a bit over the holiday and today he told me that he's around in the are for the next month and is planning to come to Boston on Thursday and stay with me over the weekend. 

We will see... Nomad Boy is not really a man of his words. Nor is he to be trusted. But I can say that I would like him to come. I welcome the distraction. And I would love to see what he's up to these days.

I'll be sure to keep you posted.

This concludes the International Woman of Mystery's "It's Raining Men" series. Although it's obviously "To be continued."

So, there you go from nothing to many things. To still totally lacking anything substantial.

In the meantime, I have recently received some awesome awards from some awesome bloggers. Stay tuned for my acceptance speech and pass on of the awards.

Love!

*My mother was typically unimpressed (and annoyed that I was waking her up) but I must say that in my 32 years this is the ONE AND ONLY time the International Woman of Mystery has ever proclaimed she has found a marriable man.

It's Raining Men Part I

So, after feeling all sorry for myself about the dry spot I was going through. Things suddenly changed and now there are boys everywhere!
The first boys to enter my life were my brother and his cute friend who came through Boston last Monday night to play a show (my brother is pretty much a nomadic musician these days but that's a whole other story).

My brother felt the need to send me an email in advance that said - and I'm quoting directly from his email here: "don't attack cute friend though.  he's tall and attractive and Germanic looking and he's kinda got a gf.  ;)"

I'm happy to report that I did not "attack" his cute friend - although he was cute and tall and had a really nice smile. He was also very sick with a sniffly sneezy cold which made him definite hands-off material (although I caught the stupid cold anyway it seems).

Next up was American Boy. Remember him? Here's the deal with American Boy (as I'm sure you are wondering what the deal is - oh what? You aren't? Too bad. I'm going to tell you anyway). American Boy unfortunately managed to move from Boston to San Fransisco right about the same time I moved to Boston - another sign that any sort of relationship between us is not meant to be - no matter how awesome he is. American Boy and I actually met for dinner this summer but outside of a kiss on the check, nothing happened between us. In fact, it was so uneventful I didn't even bother blog about it. And although American boy remains the hottest, coolest, cutest boy ever... I think that we are probably going to remain in the friendship territory. Unfortunately.

Anyway, American boy caught a ride home with me Wednesday night after work. So, we battled the 3 hour day-before-Thanksgiving car ride (normally 1.5 hours) together and spent the time chatting, catching up and listening to good music. It was actually kind of fun to drive with him. I tell you... he is really the perfect boy.

Being in my hometown brought forth lots more boys. On Friday night - Black Friday (btw - can someone pleas tell me when this became such a big deal? And wtf is cyber Monday? Clearly, I've been away too long), I met up with 4 boys from high school at the local pub in the town where we grew up. And although we are 14 years out of high school (damn we're old - although the bar tender did pull me aside to ask me if I really graduated with them because I look "way better" and "way younger" then them - I kid you not. I can't make this stuff up), it took about 5 minutes of conversation before it felt like we had never left high school as our conversation immediately regressed to high school immaturity levels.

And as sometimes happens when you catch up with the boys from highschool on Black Friday and find yourself as the only girl of the group, "handjobs" naturally became the the main topic of conversation. How does this even come up as a topic you ask? What is there to even say about handjobs when you are in your 30's? I have no idea... But that's how it goes with these boys.

So, handjobs was a recurring theme throughout the night. Awesome. And I kept telling them to be quiet since they were yelling the word handjob in really loud voices and I was embarrassed since I felt like the entire bar could hear or totally inappropriate conversation. Which come to think about it is probably why they talked about this particular subject for so long... I was giving them the total reaction they wanted. See? Just like high school. Awesome.

The other topic of the night was farting - but that's kind of the norm for one of those guy friends who has always (and I mean ALWAYS - I've known him since we were three years old) been abscessed with flatulence (high school friends who read this blog - take a BIG guess who I'm talking about). But what really amazes me is how this guy can bring farting into any type of conversation. And what's even more amazing that we have all known him for years but he still manages to make us laugh with the absolute outrageousness of his farting comments. For example, I was showing him a picture from a mutual friend's wedding this summer and he looks at a picture of the Groom and goes. "I bet he rips big juicy ones!" I mean who SAYS that? And who is even thinking that when they are looking at beautiful wedding pictures?

Alright. Enough potty talk. Sorry about that. Moving on...

One of the boys in the high school group was Locker Boy - who I have not seen since our kayaking adventure a month or so back although have been in some contact via text. Locker Boy actually picked me up and delivered me back home after the bar escapade. Upon dropping me off at my parents, Locker Boy made his move and tried to tried to kiss me (something I should have seen coming) and I politely declined by turning my cheek (seriously - this also felt like high school all over again - yes high school readers stop laughing and DO NOT tell him about this blog). Then I felt terrible... (and I kind of feel bad about blogging about this - I deleted this passage and then decided that I had to put it back in cuz this blog is supposed to be about boys and lately I'm omitting too much of the juicy stuff - more on that later... maybe -sometimes I can't don't tell you everything that's going on). I Especially felt bad when he texted me a really sweet message the next day apologizing for trying to make a move and telling me he hoped it wouldn't be awkward between us and asking to hang out again.

But that is not all... don't you worry. There are even more boys around that I'm going to tell you about. But as to not run the risk of writing a very LOOOONG post, I've decided to cut it into two parts.

You will have to come back tomorrow to read the next chapter in this International Woman of Mystery's "It's Raining Men" series.

I'm out. I'm going to work on over decorating my awesome new apartment for Christmas. If you are lucky there will be some pictures coming at you soon!

See you tomorrow.

Peace.

Sometimes Being Single Isn't All That Bad

I recently read a blog post that resonated strongly with me. So, much so that I couldn't have said it better myself so I'm going to re-post.

Thank you Lucky Girl over at How Very Lucky for writing such an awesome list to remind me (and all the other awesome single gals of the world) of why it's not so bad to be single. I needed this as lately I've been bemoaning the fact that I'm without a man and I've been busy making a mental list of the opposite sort - all the reasons I wish I had a man.

Check it out and definitely get on over and visit her awesome blog as well! And let me know what you think. Do you agree with this list? Have anything to add?

1. Everything in my apartment is mine.
2. The only person who goes through my stuff is me.
3. With the exception of the occasional cleaning lady mishap, my stuff stays where I put it.
4. Often, this is my closet, which I don’t have to share.
5. I can snore without consequence, and, conversely, not be kept awake by another who does.
6. A similar principle applies to farting.  Yes.  Girls pass gas, too.
7. I can hit snooze 6 times without making anyone angry.
8. I can hog all the blankets, and all the bed.
9. Morning breath?  What morning breath?  If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it…
10. I never have to wait for the shower.
11. My toilet seat is never in the wrong position.
12. I can take as long as I want to get ready.
13. No one uses my razor on their face.
14. No one does the dishes after I cook.  But no one complains if I don’t do them, either.
15. The only ones whining about food are my cats. (this one doesn't exactly apply to me yet, although I'm seriously considering getting a kitten).
16. I don’t have to clean up anyone’s mess but my own. 
17. I can play the music of my choice, at the volume of my choice, any time of my choice.
18. I can have quiet, alone time anytime I want it.
19. I never have to fight for the remote control.
20. This means that sports is never on my TV.  Unless the Steelers are playing.
21. I can go home with whomever I want.
22. Or not go home with whomever I want.
23. Three words: More. Sexual. Variety. Three more: Possibly. More. Sex.
24. I never have to fake an orgasm, I can give them to myself daily.  And I never have “headaches”.
25. Extra garlic, please.
26. I can flirt wildly and without restraint.
27. But maybe not after all the extra garlic.
28. My friends all get along with my other half.  Because my other half is currently me.
29. I can take care of myself.
30. I have worked hard for and earned everything that I have.
31. No marriage penalty tax.
32. I don’t have to check anyone’s schedule before deciding on my own.
33. Ladies night is every night.
34. I can, and often do, go out every night of the week.
35. I have more free time, for myself, my friends, and generally doing things that I enjoy.
36. I am free to travel where and when I like.
37. I don’t have to concern myself with what anyone else’s mother thinks.
38. I can always spend holidays with my family.
39. And…I put my happiness where it ought to be: First.

Desperately Seeking a Man

So, at this point, I'm pretty much in a dry spell when it comes to men - it feels like it's been weeks since I've even flirted with a man. Correction - it HAS been weeks. The last man of interest in my life was THE WRITER and that was in London in September! And usually this doesn't bother me, but with the move and all, I've been noticing more than usual that I'm alone and kind of wishing I had someone there to fill in the lonely spaces and to help with the heavy lifting (emotional and physical) of the move. Let's face it moving is LONELY. It would be way more fun to do it with a special someone else.

So, with this thought in the back of my head, for the past couple weeks, I've been composing a list of the reasons why this International Woman of Mystery is suddenly desperately seeking a man.

Desperately Seeking a Man

To help carry all the boxes up the stairs (I promise to help - I swear).

To live in my apartment with me and split the exorbitant rent for the closet-like awesome space.

To hold my hand as we walk through the gaslight streets and discover the charming neighborhood of Beacon Hill with me.

To go for long runs with me on the Charles River.

To drive my car around Boston and hopefully do a better job at navigating the city than I do.

To discuss the apartment and help me decide which furniture would go best.

To go with me to pick out furniture for the apartment.

To help me build the furniture and recognize quickly when I am inevitably building things wrong (because I am too impatient to follow directions) and suggest I do it the right way before I "finish" it and then have to take it all apart and start over.

To step in and take over anything involving a hammer and nails as soon as he sees that I hammer every single nail in completely crooked.

To take the lead with anything involving 'tools.' Actually, he should probably ban me from using tools all together. It's not pretty.

To help with the emotional side of the move and the super life changes I'm going through.

To help me re assimilate to the US and remind me that it's ok to give up my jet-set life for awhile.

To tell me that when I'm ready to resume my jet-set lifestyle, that he will accompany me.

To go with me to pick out a kitten. And to clean the litter box help take care of the kitten.

To share the cost of my awesome car that I so do not need since I can walk to work in 15 minutes - note that in return, the boyfriend can drive the car all he wants as long as he sometimes will drive me somewhere...

To help with all the long "to-do" list associated with moving like setting up utilities, paying bills, switching the registration on your car, talking to your insurance, getting a Beacon Hill parking pass...

To cuddle with me at night and tell me that everything is going to be all right.

To listen to me talk about my new job and provide various other emotional support.

To reassure me that I'm awesome and cute when I'm feeling insecure.

To tell me I'm beautiful even when I'm not wearing any makeup.

To tell me that 6 am Boot Camp is already paying off (even though as far as I can tell the only result I'm seeing is uber-tiredness all the time).

To sit with me in front of the fire place and drink wine on a cozy night in.

To go out and party with me and my friends on a crazy night out.

To cook us dinner in our new kitchen (I have yet to turn on the stove or oven - actually, I just realized that I don't even own any pots or pans which leads me to the next point)

To buy us some pots and pans and wine glasses, and utensils and all the other things that are still "missing" in the apartment because I ran out of money motivation to buy them myself.

To buy a television and install it (this isn't high on my priority list but I feel like a boyfriend would make sure it happened).

To cuddle up on the couch with me and watch movies on the television (obviously he will have also figured out how to stream Net Flix).

To bring to the apartment some kind of video game system and sometimes let me play it with you (I secretly like video games in moderation and when played with boyfriends) and not to complain when I make him play Sing Star or Making the Band with me.

To help me host an awesome housewarming party tonight.

So, if you know any hot TALL Boston boys who favor skinny jeans, hate khakis, do not shop at Brooks Brothers, and are super smart, nice, tolerant, funny, interesting, love to travel and would consider living abroad, like cats, are strong and love to cuddle... well, please tell them about the International Woman of Mystery and send them over to Beacon Hill!

Random Updates from an International Woman of Mystery

So, since I haven't had much time to blog lately, there is a lot I need to update you all on - including my Halloween adventure and costume choice!

So, this blog is going to totally lack any structure (as if my normal posts are so full of structure anyway) and I'm just going to tell you what's been going on and what's on the mind of this International Woman of Mystery!

So, here are my random updates:

On Halloween

The costume choice for Halloween ended up being...Drumroll please....

THE VINTAGE NURSE!

So, the vintage won out over the sexy firewoman - but mostly because I got the costume on and couldn't be bothered to change again. Both were pretty good outfits and Crazy Sexy Friend S was not very helpful as she liked them both too and made me change them back and forth until I got tired and went with the Nurse one because that was what was on!

Halloween weekend ended up being fun but not really over-the-top. Actually, I found it pretty overwhelming to be out and about and meeting new people and trying to adjust to American culture - especially after a long week at work of trying to remember names.

Friday at work was total Halloween madness. Some of my colleagues were in full on furry animal suits! Yikes!

I decided to do my part in dressing up. I wore a white dress and a halo and wings and my colleague wore devil horns and we were The Forces of Good and Evil. It worked and was kind of cute. At least that's what people told us.

The day was full of candy and sugar highs and culminated in a Halloween parade and costume competition followed by drinks at the bar. The bar was packed and I stayed for awhile drinking with colleagues whose names I for the most part couldn't remember, before heading out to another bar to dance to some live music. I made my way home around midnight - totally exhausted.

And the next day I woke up with a HANGOVER. Ugh. That's what happens when you drink 5 beers and do not eat dinner. A late afternoon run shook away most of the hangover. And then it was time to get ready for Halloween take II.

Crazy Sexy Friend S went hiking on the day of the party and managed to twist her ankle. So she was not in top form. Crazy Sexy Friend S lives in South Boston (aka Southie) so I went over to her hood. We started off at a pretty low key house party which was nice but there were not too many people there - and definitely no hotties.

We then moved on to a crazy huge party at a certified bachelor pad. This apartment was home to 5 men and had an HUGE INDOOR pool. It was a scene for sure. Lots of people. Lots of crazy with people cannonballing into the pool. But Crazy Sexy Friend S wanted to leave. And she kept asking me if I was having fun. And while the scene was interesting, it's kind of hard to really have "fun" when you don't know anyone and you know your friend wants to leave. So, we decided to call it a night.

On 6 am Boot Camp Class

Because it's totally normal that when you are in the middle of a move and feeling a bit out-of-shape that you sign up for a 16 session 6 am boot camp class to whip you back into shape. Oh wait? It's not normal? It's in fact absolutely insane? Oh yeah... Right. I wish someone had told me that BEFORE I payed $250 to be tortured every morning.

It hasn't helped that it rained poured 2 of the 4 mornings so far. On the first day, it was absolutely pouring down and really windy. As I lay on the cold wet ground doing sit ups with the rain splashing on my face... well, let's just say that I couldn't wait to come back the next day! ha ha...

Actually, it's not that bad. Physically it's challenging - but in a good way. Nowhere near as hard as the British Military Fitness I attended in London (which was good - I have back problems and as they didn't emphasize form or structure, I was too afraid of getting hurt).

And it's good for me to actually do something for myself. Since I have graduated college and started working for The Company, I have never ever done something like take a class. With my crazy work and travel schedule, I wasn't able too. Life was too unstable. So, I'm happy to be doing something for myself. Let's just hope the results pay off!

What was not such a good idea was starting this AND moving at the same time. Moving is rather physically challenging - especially since I live on the third floor. My body is so sore and exhausted right now. Friday was awesome because I actually got to sleep in. I never thought that sleeping until 8 am would feel like sleeping late!
Week one done - just 3 more weeks to go! Next week class meets every single week day!

On So Not Being a Morning Person

The most challenging thing about the Boot Camp is the fact that I'm so not a morning person! I never go to bed before midnight. I often don't go to bed until 2 am. I don't have to be at work until 9 and as I live close to work, this means I can get up at 8, or at the earliest 6:30 if I want to go for a run (although admittedly I tend to reach for the snooze button rather than my running shoes - which is why I'm torturing myself with the Boot Camp as it forces me out of bed).

So, getting up at 5:25 to be at Boston Commons by 6 fully dressed and stretched is a difficult one!

So, because of these EARLY mornings, I should really be in bed by 10 or 11 at the latest. But with all my trips to Ikea and building furniture and unpacking boxes, this has been a total FAIL this week. And therefore at work I've been completely exhausted yawning and barely able to keep my eyes open. Not fun! I really need to get myself on the early morning schedule!

However, it is kind of nice to be up that early. I'm back at my apartment by 7:10 and I can sit and have a coffee and read the news blogs and not have to worry about rushing around. I even managed to put together some Ikea furniture before work!

And as the work out is done in the mornings, I have my evenings free - which is nice. I can now meet people for drinks after work without feeling guilty about not going to the gym.

On living in America again

The transition is harder than I thought in some ways and easier than I thought in others.

I don't think it's hit me yet that I'm here for good. I still feel like I'm on vacation. And I've been so focused on the move and getting settled, that I haven't really been living. I have hardly been out of my apartment or office besides my trips to Ikea and Target. I haven't had any chance at all to explore Boston or the nightlife.

I have to say though that when I have a quick moment to reflect, I feel desperately homesick for Europe. I miss my friends and I feel far away from them.

I'm afraid that when all the manic craziness of the move is over, that I'm going to look around and want to pack up and leave again.

On the other hand, there are lots of nice things about being home as well. Boston is a beautiful city. And I have a pretty nice life here. My office is great. Life is comfortable. I have more friends around then I thought... It's pretty easy to live in the US (once you get past all the moving bull shit). Although I have never been one to go for "easy."

On my new neighborhood: Beacon Hill

This might be one of the most charming neighborhoods in the world! I can't wait to explore it more. But the gaslight streets and tiny brick roads make it seem so cozy and cute. And what a great location. Walking distance to everything in Boston! Whole Foods (the best and unfortunately the most expensive store ever) is right across the street. And it only takes me 15 mins to walk to work (bonus exercise) - good thing I bought that new car!

On the loudness of city living

The only downside is that it's LOUD living in the city. My apartment in London was really quiet.

In addition to the loud constant buzzing noise from a generator on the roof of the store next door, there is also a fire station less than a block down the street. So, the wailing of fire engines is now incorporated into the daily background noise of my life.

And speaking of fires and loud noises, I learned the hard way that the fan must be when you take a hot shower or else the fire alarm WILL go off. There is nothing like loud obnoxious beeping first thing in the morning when you are naked and soaking wet!

On Downsizing from a big two-bedroom to a tiny one-bedroom apartment

This is no fun at all. My London apartment was about twice the size of my new Beacon Hill one! Last Tuesday, moving men delivered 43 boxes from London. I could hardly even fit the boxes into the apartment. Luckily Super Dad came to the rescue and helped me unpack and put together the couch that was delivered. And I sent a whole carload of "stuff" home with him (much to my Mother's dismay).

On Ikea

Well, I've hardly had any time to miss Sweden since I've practically been LIVING at Ikea!

Seriously, that place sucks you in. I have been there 3 times in the past week.

And then you get the furniture home and you have to spend hours BUILDING it! I finally finished the last piece of furniture I had to build yesterday. My apartment now has a full  bedroom set plus a couch thanks to Ikea.

But at least my visits to Ikea got me a good dose of Sweden with some Swedish meatballs, mashed potatoes and lingon berries. Yum!

On Dating

Moving alone is lonely. More than ever, I'm ready to find a man. Since the Hot British Writer (who I still think about way too much btw), I've been in a bit of a dry spell. I definitely feel like I'm missing intimacy at the moment.

However... the sad sad thing is, that I have not seen one attractive man since I've been home! I know. I know. I haven't exactly had time to be out on the prowl... but in Stockholm (the land of beautiful men), I would see hot men everywhere. The walk to work alone was great for hottie spotting!

As soon as I can manage to get settled, I need to switch my Match.com account back over to the American version and line up some dates (another good thing about working out in the morning, I have evenings free to do social things - once I get my apartment settled that is).

I'm also hoping that I'm Attractive Single Friend C will soon take me out on the town and teach me the Boston tricks!

Alright. I could go on forever. But I think that's enough of my random updates for now. I hope you all feel caught up on the life of an International Woman of Mystery.

Come back tomorrow for pictures of my new apartment!

An International Woman of Mystery's Awesome Guide to the Do and Do NOTS of moving

Guess what?

I'm baaaack!!!! Yay! I never meant to be away for so long. Moving is very very hard. Let me tell you. But I'm happy to say that I now have an apartment. And it even has a few pieced of furniture in it. Tomorrow I have 40 boxes (and no idea where I am going to put them) being delivered from London so I will finally have all my stuff! I will also get a couch delivered tomorrow.

I just have to say that these last couple weeks have been REALLY REALLY hard. I can't wait to put this all behind me and start living and enjoying life again and blogging on a regular basis. I have missed you all so much!

I have so much to update you all on. But let's start with a list that will give you some major insight as to what has been going on in my life.

The International Woman of Mystery's Guide to the DO's and DO NOTS of moving

Do NOT think that moving will be easy. Do not even think that it will not be that hard. Tell yourself it's going to suck and make sure you set your expectations right from the beginning.

DO try to keep a positive attitude even when it seems that life is working against you in every single way possible

If possible, DO NOT start a new job that is hard and difficult at the SAME time as you are moving. This will make your life very difficult.

DO NOT think that you will get a good deal (aka cheap apartment) in Beacon Hill.

DO NOT think that your Beacon Hill apartment will be big. It will not be. In fact you do not even want to calculate the rent per square foot. It might make you cry.

DO NOT constantly compare the small small one bedroom Beacon Hill apartment to your huge two bedroom London flat.

DO realize that your Beacon Hill apartment is actually nicer than your London one... just a LOT smaller.

DO be thankful for your walk in closets - remind yourself how rare this is in Beacon Hill (and try not to dwell on how much it all costs).

When looking at apartments, DO take note of important things like the fact that there is a loud generator outside of the bedroom window that creates a loud buzzing sound that is enough to drive you absolutely insane and will ensure that you will never ever be able to open the window. DO NOT sign a lease without checking up on that shit more than once!

DO NOT stress too much about it when you realize that the living room windows in your apartment look DIRECTLY into the windows of one of your married male colleagues (yes, awesome things like this happen to me).

DO take a strong note that you had better keep those shades locked down!

DO NOT expect that moving into an apartment that has NO furniture at all will be anything like moving into a completely furnished apartment. Believe me, it's a whole new ball game.


DO NOT sign up for a 6 am boot camp class (every single morning) when you are in the middle of a move.

DO NOT think that you will be able to have any form of a personal life or social life while you are in the middle of a move.

DO try to blog but do NOT beat yourself up if you cannot manage it because you are so tired that it's all you can do to keep your eyes open when you realize that it's midnight and you are nowhere near done with your to-do list and you think about opening up your computer but realize that nothing good is going to flow from your fingers to your blog. Seriously. Don't feel guilty. (I'm still working on this one).

DO ask your friends for help.

DO make sure you have a LOT of money. Moving is freaking crazy expensive.

DO have a really awesome friend like I'm Attractive Single Friend C who let's you stay at her place for a very long time and takes trips with you to Ikea and offer you lots moral support

DO have awesome parents who will help you in your time of need.

DO set a time limit for your Ikea trip. That store is MASSIVE. You could live there. Or at least stay there for forever.

DO have a list when going to Ikea - focus, focus, focus.

DO NOT go to Ikea 1 hour before it closes and expect to get a lot done (although I might have set a world record for being in and out in an hour with a full bedroom set

DO expect and plan to go back to Ikea more than once... It happens.

When the man delivering the mattress tells you that there is just no way he is going to get it up the stairs and is generally just being mean to you, DO start to cry. Believe me if there are enough tears, he will get that mattress up the stairs just to shut you up.

Do NOT expect any delivery or assembly men to come anywhere NEAR the time they tell you they are going to be there. Be prepared to wait around the house the ENTIRE weekend.

DO right mean yelp reviews of companies like Urban Express who really messed up your life by making a prisoner in your furniture-less apartment all weekend while you stood (because there is no furniture to sit on) around waiting for them to arrive for hours and hours just to finally find out (after you called them 5 times) that they will not make it until tomorrow - and then repeat the whole process.

DO NOT use the company Urban Express which is the company the Ikea in Stoughton, Ma uses for deliveries and assemblies (the delivery was ok, the assembly was a nightmare - I waited for the guys for about 10 hours in total and waited on the phone for 45 minutes talking to incompetent staff each of the 12 times I had to call them to check where the assembly guys were).

DO grin and bear it when the delivery men and assembly men call you "cute" nicknames like "beautiful" and "honey" - decide that if it makes them get shit done faster, it's worse a little degradation

DO try to see the humor in everything even when all you really want to do is cry and cry and cry

DO let yourself have a major breakdown on a Friday night when it all seems impossible and your are so miserable in your furniture-less apartment in a new city and are so homesick for Europe and your friends there.

DO try to wake up with a more positive attitude on Saturday morning

DO NOT think that you will not need a winter jacket in Boston in November. DO pack this in your things you are bringing with you.

DO NOT think that you will not need summer running clothes in Boston in October. Do remember that sometimes it is 70 degrees one day and 30 degrees the next day.

DO NOT think too much about Europe and all your friends there who you miss so much.

DO NOT freak out when you pull the Ikea furniture out of a box and you end up with 300 small pieces. This is normal. Take a deep breath. And then begin the long assembly process.

DO know that building Ikea furniture has a big learning curve. It does get easier. Although not that much easier.

DO NOT make fun of your father when he wears dorky knee pads to put together your furniture. DO remember that he is there to help.

DO covet your fathers kneepads (although still wonder why he needed to put them on in the street OUTSIDE your apartment where he then has to walk two blocks with them on) when you have been kneeling for 4 hours putting together furniture on the hardwood floor and have massive bruises on your knee

DO consider asking your father if you can borrow the kneepads... Although DO NOT even for a moment consider wearing them OUTSIDE the apartment.

DO NOT think twice about buying a wine opener even though one is eventually coming in your boxes from London. You are going to need a LOT of wine to get through this.

DO NOT think that it is a good idea to drink while putting together Ikea furniture. This will inevitably lead to big messes. Although DO consider drinking if it is the only way that you can convince yourself to stay at home on BOTH Friday and Saturday night and put together said furniture.

If you DO drink while putting together Ikea furniture (hey, sometimes it just has to be done) DO make sure you put aside some time the next day to fix all the stuff you put together wrong.

DO set a hard date on when you are determined to be finished with the move by having a housewarming party (mine is November 20th).

DO try not to stress about 40 boxes coming to your tiny apartment tomorrow! I will for sure update you and let you know how that goes.

And the number one piece of advice that this International Woman of Mystery has for all those other hot messes who are considering a move:

DO NOT MOVE ANYWHERE UNLESS YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND!

DO MAKE SURE THAT A BOYFRIEND IS ON HAND TO HELP YOU WITH THE EMOTIONAL AND PHYSICAL HEAVY LIFTING ASPECTS OF YOUR MOVE!

I promise to write again soon! I think I'm just about ready to be back to normal blogging (although this damn Boot Camp is sure not helping things) Miss you all!

Kisses and hugs and glasses of vino.

A Breif Romantic Encounter in the English Countryside

This post was supposed to be about my weekend in the English countryside. It was supposed to provide a portrait of picturesque rural life. It was supposed to be about rolling hills and sheep. It was supposed to be about the quaint village and the quirky village people. It was supposed to be about the Cricket game and the afternoon tea and the after Cricket pints and party. It was supposed to be about the Sunday walk through the hills to the charming local pub where we had a Sunday roast in the garden. It was supposed to be about the fresh countryside air and the cool autumn weather.

All weekend I planned this post. I took pictures to include. I talked to the villagers and found out about their lives. I mentally noted interesting observations in anticipation of telling you all about it. And as I sit here at my computer ready to begin, I realize that post I was planning all weekend, is not the post I'm going to write.

And while the lovely British countryside will certainly serve as a romantic backdrop, I apologize that this post will not be about the rolling hills, the sheep, the Cricket, the pub, the villagers, the fresh air, nor will it be about the crisp autumn weather.

This post will be about a boy.

This weekend I feel in love and then lost in just 24 hours. 

But let me rewind and start at the beginning with Friday evening when M (of my favorite couple M and T) showed up at my apartment with French guy CC - a friend from our China days. Then Sexy Single friend A and her friend showed up and we did what we usually do at my apartment - have some pre party drinks, listen to music and get in the mood to go out!

CC was only in town for the weekend, so we were determined to show him the best England had to offer. The plan was to head out on the town  Friday night and then get up early on Saturday and head out to T's family village 2 hours outside of London where they were having the annual Cricket Game (I had attended last year and it was so much fun, I had begged to be invited back). So, on Friday night we headed to Kensington Roof Gardens and got our groove on, stumbling home in the wee hours of the morning.

Saturday morning came way too early and in a cruel manner with a relentless pounding headache and a nauseous stomach and an instant regret for that damn shot of tequila I had done (say nothing of the vodka, gin, wine - although my bets are still on the tequila).

Not even a Bloody Mary and a full English breakfast helped to improve my condition. In fact, as I struggled to keep the meal down, I came to the unfortunate conclusion that a big meal and a drink had only made it worse (whoever says hair of the dog is the best way to kill a hangover, is completely out of their mind).

Despite sleeping most of the way on the train to the countryside, I was still  not well upon arrival in the charming little rural village. The taxi ride from the train station almost did me in (rolling hills and winding roads are not so quite so charming when you're hungover). Luckily however, we did make it to T's quaint village cottage with our stomachs intact.

So, we are sitting and watching the Cricket game and I'm still concentrating on not throwing up, when slowly through the thick fog of my hangover, I become aware that there is a a rather attractive guy on the Cricket field. I ask M who he is and she informs me that he is a childhood friend of T's and unfortunately, he is taken (although sans girlfriend for the weekend). Well, that figures. I mentally cross him off my list of potential flirting partners for the weekend.

The boys come in from the Cricket field to take their turn at bat and I'm introduced to the cute boy. He is even cuter up close - not beautifully aloof in the Beautiful Swede way, but roguishly handsome in a rugged, disheveled, manly way. "I didn't think he would be your type," M would say later.

But up close, it was perhaps less the way he looked, and more the way he looked at me that commanded my attention... He gave me "the look." You know that one where he looks you up and down slowly starting at your shoes, noting the shape of your legs in your fall boots, taking in your blue autumn dress, momentarily lingering on your breasts and then looking right in your eyes as if he can see all the way through to your soul. And from that first "look" I went weak in the knees and I have to admit that I was a bit smitten. Reluctantly smitten. But yes, smitten.

And although I was still very aware that he was "unavailable," I concluded that there is nothing wrong with a little harmless flirting (especially if initiated by him), right? And I promise that I was only joking when discussing sleeping arrangements with M that I would offer to solve the crowded house sleeping arrangement problem by sleeping with him.

And I swear that I did not seek out this boy nor did I intentionally try to turn on the charm (believe me, I can be quite charming when I want to be) but it just so happened that after the Cricket game ended, we ended up standing at the Cricket Club bar together where he convinced me to drink a pint of lager (much to the loud protestations of my stomach and still pounding head) and then proceeded to engage me in a conversation that left me not only smitten, but absolutely fascinated.

You see, he is a former journalist turned (as yet unpublished) writer who is working on his first book. Therefore, I will now refer to him appropriately as "The Writer." And if his looks had been the interesting factor before, I quickly realized that his personality was even more attractive. As a person who is (obviously) interested in writing and dreams of writing a book some day, I of course had lots of questions for him about the book writing process. He patiently answered my questions and gave me some interesting insight into a writer's world.

And we talked a lot about reading (another passion of mine) and it was quickly obvious we had read many of the same books. To my delight, he even begrudgingly admitted to having read (for professional reasons of course) and kind of liked the entire Twilight series, despite not being able to relate to all the teenage girl angst and being slightly disappointed on Stephanie Myer's failure to "understand the male psych."

And the more he talked, the more interesting I found The Writer. And slowly, it began to dawn on me that chemistry aside, this guy was kind of sort of my "dream guy." He was witty, intelligent, interesting and full of life. Well traveled, well educated, athletic, and well rounded. The first guy I have met in a long time who I feel is multi-dimensional enough to match me on many levels.

Apparently our connection was noticed by others around because just minutes into our initial conversation, one of the old drunk villagers interrupted us by asking "Are you two married?" And The Writer looked into my eyes and therefore into my soul, and we both just laughed.

And his eyes - hazel specked with brown, and full of warmth and life... I had trouble looking into them because those eyes sucked me in and made it so hard to look away that the second I did I found myself longing to look back again.

But, if I wasn't smitten enough already, as the night went on and more pints were drunk, he somehow started singing to me in a wonderful singing voice Susanne and Famous Blue Raincoat - my two most favorite Leonard Cohen songs - and it was at that point that I just fell. Head over heels. Hard.

We continued to talk the entire night. I kept trying to pull myself away from him, but found myself completely unable. When he was not standing with me, I found myself searching for him and I found that he was more often than not looking at me as well. But I still considered him "off limits" and honestly there was no overt flirting going on, we did not touch each other and we did not stand too close to eachother or do anything else that would be considered inappropriate, although I can't deny the fact that I was by this point doing some serious "wishful thinking."

Ok please stop reading now if you are:*

a. My parents (although, mom we kind of already discussed this - I just left out the details - you don't really need to read them - dad, neither do you)

b. My colleagues

c. T (of M and T)

d. A person of strong morals who is going to judge me

e. A mean anonymous commenter

 So, the evening progressed and we finally had enough of drinking and dancing and we turned off the lights and music at the Cricket Club and headed back to the house to get some much needed rest.

And I'm not sure if it was the planets aligning or some cruel trick of fate, but suddenly it became clear that the only place for me to sleep (without doing some serious waking up and rearranging of people) was in the spare bed in the room that he was in. (I immediately regretted saying what I had said previously about the sleeping arrangements).

So, we both pretended that this was cool. And I was seriously questioning how cool it really was - engaged in an internal battle of feeling that maybe I should sleep on the floor somehwere else and really really wanting  to sleep in the room with him - to see where this night long charade would take us (because at this point, I really had no idea). But one thing was clear... it was all too easy. We had the perfect excuse to do what we wanted and it was up to us to choose the final outcome. And The Writer seemed ok with the proposed sleeping arrangement... so, we both went with it, although I'm sure his internal battle was even more intense than my own.

So everyone got into their pajamas and we all said goodnight and then The Writer and I closed the door to "our bedroom." And suddenly it was like the world started to spin and we just looked at each other in silence for what felt like an eternity. The sexual tension was on intensity overload, my heart was in my throat, I was weak in the knees, and I swear that the room was on fire. And as much as I told myself that I should walk over to my bed and just lay down and go to sleep, my legs refused to listen and with a mind of their own, they began to move in the other direction - toward him just as he was moving toward me. We met in the middle and he touched my arm and I swear that it there were not only sparks, it was a freaking electrical storm.

Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked. And his response was the slowest most amazing kiss.

"You can't deny chemistry," he said and his fingers were like flames moving over my body.

Later though as the awkwardness set in, he did admit to feeling guilty (which was both weird and relieving all at once. Weird because well... do I need to go there? And relieving because if he didn't feel guilty, well it probably means he does this all the time. And no, I didn't get the feeling that he does). I mumbled something about what's done is done and regret is a pointless emotion. "You're right. I just need to put it in parenthesis," The Writer said.

The next morning came too quickly and when the rest of the house began stirring, we decided to get up and head our separate ways. The day was full of trivial conversation and longing glances exchanged across the room. I was oversensitive and over aware of his presence at all times. And when he was standing close to me, all I could think about was wanting to reach out and touch him and overwhelmed by the unfairness of the fact that it would be totally inappropriate to do so.

The closest we came to an intimate moment was on the way to the pub for Sunday brunch when we were both walking dogs on leashes and the leashes managed to wrap around each other in such a way that we were pulled together and forced into an awkward moment of closeness as we tried to untangle ourselves and the dogs. "This is how they met in The Lady and the Tramp," The Writer said...

And then it was time to say goodbye and head back to London in separate cars. We both climbed the stairs to "our bedroom" and gathered up our belongings. And then once again, we stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. "I guess this is goodbye," he said. "Yes." I replied and then he took me in his arms and gave me one last lingering kiss full of sweet longing, regret and things that "could have been".

And in that moment before we reluctantly pulled ourselves apart, the bittersweet images of a life that almost was but would never be, played out in my mind - the cozy nights at home, the fun parties with friends, the trips around the world, the dancing in each other's arms, the beautiful rambunctious children that we would never have. And just as soon as the thoughts had entered my mind, they withdrew as quickly as his lips left mine as I guiltily remembered that this life is real and not a romantic English fairytale (or a chick lit novel), nor am I Elizabeth Bennet and he is surely not Mr. Darcy. We are just two people who shared a night who had no future outside this room in the English countryside.

And so, we left the room together as strangers. 

And finally, we endured a public parting - in front of other people and I swear they could all see the electricity sparking off our bodies as we touched and air kissed each other goodbye - one remorseful kiss on each cheek. And after saying goodbye to everyone else, when no one was looking, he blew me a kiss and walked off to his car, looking backward at me the whole way. And I felt an incredible sadness wash over me as I knew that I had just met an amazing guy who was absolutely not mine for the taking. An amazing guy who probably has an amazing girlfriend. An amazing guy, who I was never going to see again.

And I have to admit that I felt sad. It's now two days later and I still feel sad. And I've thought about him more than I want to admit. I'm struggling to deal with myself on this one. I've gotten used to not caring, not feeling. I've gotten used to meeting lots of shallow beautiful men who are more suited to one or two dates, to one kiss, to one night - they essentially mean nothing to me and leave no more imprint on me than the empty words posted about them in this blog. I've gotten used to meeting men with many good qualities but always in the beginning - usually in the very first encounter - I sense a strong "but" that I know can't be overcome, that I know makes that guy not right for me in the long run (if I'm honest with myself, even the Beautiful Swede was ruled out in the beginning by the "but" and deemed not suitable for long term potential).

But for the first time in a long time, I felt in The Writer a lingering potential, a beautiful possibility that I had not felt in a very long time (maybe ever).

But he is taken and I'm leaving London in less than 2 weeks, so this is the end of the story. The end of the British countryside romance. It began before it started. I loved and lost in just 24 hours (although it could certainly be said I never "had" in the first place).**

So, that's it. It's over (I keep having to tell myself this). It was awesome and bittersweet and confusing all at once. And now I'm left feeling empty and alone with a wonderful yet guilty memory and  the unrealistic romantic fantasies of a whirlwind romance that will never take place and the unmistakable longing that I will hear from him again.***

*And if you do continue reading, do so at your own risk and try not to judge me, or him and know that this post was one that I really struggled to write.

**I'm not that girl who "falls in 'love'" easily. Or at all. Or ever. In fact, I'm that girl who is not even sure she believes in love. I'm that girl who guys think are cold. And while I'm obviously exaggerating here when I say "love," I did fall for this guy. Hard. More than I ever fall for guys. And that kills me.

***We didn't exchange any contact details.