Spiting the Karma Gods

All About Me

My boyfriend delivers babies. I have a hard time wrapping my head around that fact sometimes. In part because I've never actually seen him do anything medical.

I have, however, started to subconsciously compete with these pregnant ladies for attention. The other day, I pricked my finger on the roses he bought me for Valentine's Day. I didn't even know that I had hurt it until he pointed out the blood. And suddenly I became all: "Oh my god, I can't look, can you bandage it for me??" It wasn't much deeper than a paper cut. And I work in the healthcare field. But he gamely bandaged me up. And then we stood there looking at each other. It was very anti-climatic. My, uh, hero.

And then I just felt dumb.

posted by Us @ 7:41 PM 3 comments

What my IT guy knows

The IT guy at work is super friendly. It makes me wonder if I work for one of those companies that tracks which websites you visit. No one's ever gotten in trouble for anything along those lines but you never know. We recently got an e-mail notifying us that they'll soon begin tracking our IM conversations. (For our OWN GOOD, of course. How many times, no really, how many times has this happened to you: you have a very important IM conversation with a co-worker and wished you'd saved it. Well? It hasn't happened to me once. Not a single time. The only conversations I wish I had are the drunk ones with S.H. so I can do intense damage control.)

If the IT guy at work read my internet history he'd learn:
-I am obsessed with my new birth control pill. I check the WebMD reproductive health message board daily.
-I like to Google airplane to disasters to convince myself it can't happen to me.
-My (boyfriend's) friend posts lots of big breasts on his website. Because I am addicted to my boyfriend, I am addicted to his friend's blog.
-I frequent wine bars, but I can't seem to find a good one in Midtown.
-I am obsessed with myself. (I Google myself almost as often as I Google my pill.)
-I love the Yankees, power pop, and visiting obscure cities in Upstate New York.

I wonder how much of this stuff the IT guy and I have in common ...

posted by Us @ 8:37 PM 0 comments

This post may or may not be coherent

My brain doesn't want to work today. That's what happens when you spend the entire weekend drunk and making trouble.

I don't often go out with a big group of girls, but for Super Bowl Sunday I did. (Watching the game with girls masks my utter ignorance of the sport.) Three out of the five of us were blonde and that meant lots of free beer and shots, especially from my buddy "Hey You." (Note: Men go crazy about nicknames. If you give a guy a nickname, he won't leave your side the entire night.)

I decided I absolutely love the Super Bowl, even though I've never once in my life watched it before. Actually, I didn't really watch it this year. But that's besides the point. Drinking on a Sunday afternoon feels like summer again. Who invented this Super Bowl thing anyway? Whoever you are, dude, I love you, almost as much as I love Hey You. (Because it wouldn't have been the total drunken debauchery it was if not for Hey You's generosity.)

There was plenty of other drinking this weekend too, including a very inebriated Restaurant Week dinner with one of my best friends from college. She's crazy about my new boyfriend. We walked to her apartment after dinner practicing shouting "I love you" on Amsterdam Avenue. For some future time she hopes we'll get to. After that, we went to a party at her place, where I tried to undress my ex, and then text messaged a former hook-up.

The funny thing is, I don't want to sleep with anyone but my boyfriend. For me, the drunk text message is not about sex but about flirting. I need to flirt when I'm drunk. It's an addiction.

I'm such a little devil sometimes.

posted by Us @ 9:54 PM 0 comments

Dirty Talk

Due to the celibacy countdown, the doctor and I have somehow started talking dirty on instant messenger. Not cyber-sex dirty, just a lot of hinting about what we're going to do to each other the next time we're together. A lot of play-fighting about how we're gearing up for some big "race," and when he wins, he's going to lift me up over his head like some big trophy and then throw me right into bed with him. (And I'll do the same to him, of course, if I win. You know, lift him riiight up there over my head.) That sort of thing.

We only see each once a month. And it shows.

posted by Us @ 4:14 PM 0 comments

Did I mention I'm in a long distance relationship?

At happy hour last night, I somehow found myself having a gushy, girly conversation with the chick who's banging my work-crush. Three beers for me, four of something clear (vodka tonics?) for her.

I don't hate her because my work-crush is still a big flirt, and that's all I need him for anyway. But I couldn't help but think this morning: she had sex with a hot thirty-something management-type last night, and I went to sleep with my stuffed frog. So yes, I'm a tad jealous. More than a tad hard-up. Very much more than a tad I-so-want-the-doctor-this-very-minute!!!

And the worst part is I'm totally falling for him. Why does he have to say the cutest things?? Like telling me how pretty and adorable I am. Insisting how badly he wants to get it ON. Promising to kiss my bruises all better (he IS going to be a doctor, after all).

And a damn good one, if you ask me.

posted by Us @ 9:37 PM 0 comments

Call Me Al

I have a stalker. A kid from high school, who stopped me on the street in front of my apartment after he recognized me one evening. We had never spoken before that night. He called me by the wrong name.

Then we exchanged phone numbers. You can never have too many friends, right? But I should have known that single guys aren't interested in making friends with girls.

Ever since that fateful evening, I've gotten weekly text messages from him inviting me to do things. At first I wrote back to decline. Then I just started ignoring him. Finally he couldn't take it anymore. He called me last night -- at 11 pm -- to ask me over. I conferred with the doctor (who was on the other line): "There's no way this is platonic, right?"

And of course I knew the answer: no guy is this persistent about making a new friend.

And so it goes.

posted by Us @ 5:07 PM 0 comments

Chatterboxes

The phone. I have a friend who claims he doesn't believe in it. Why call a girl when you can just as easily IM and e-mail her?

Call me old fashioned, but I think phone calls are necessary. There’s nothing wrong with IM – in some ways I like it better – but it’s less sincere than a phone call.

Now that I'm transitioning from S.H. to what might actually become something with a soon-to-be doctor, I've realized that it's not so much whether I like talking on the phone but what it symbolizes.

When the doctor and I are actually talking to each other, we might flirt less (maybe that’s why sometimes I like our fun IM conversations) but it definitely feels more like there’s another person on the other end of the line – not just text on a screen. I feel closer to him when I hear his voice. It’s as intimate as we can get 400 miles apart. And we do laugh a lot regardless.

posted by Us @ 8:39 AM 0 comments