Romeo take me somewhere we can be alone...

Alright, so in my Caution: Water may be Hot post, we see that Jordan and I finally got to hang out after three years.  Long story short: Jordan and I have been friends since I was 15 and he was 16.  I had a crush on him all throughout high school but never mentioned it.  He got engaged and we no longer saw each other but kept up some form of communication during that time.  Finally, I pretty much made an ass out of myself when he and his fiance broke things off and we actually got to see each other.

The night at the diner was pretty much just hanging out and talking.  We sat there for hours, probably annoying the employees, but we finally decided to call it a night.  We hugged, we left, and probably proceeded to text each other once we got home (I don't remember if the texting actually happened, but it's just what we do when we can't sleep so it's safe to assume).

We hung out a few more times, got drinks, went bowling, other random stuff.  But one night, we decided to meet back at the diner.  Now, to make things clear, my crush had come back full force and I still haven't said anything and have no idea what he thinks about it all.  We decided to leave, and while we were walking to our cars he said, "I'm glad we're finally hanging out again."

"Yeah, me too.  I forgot how much we laugh at each other."
"I don't want to go home yet," he said, staring at me.
"I don't either but there's really nothing else to do."  It was after bar close.
"Well, let's think of something," he said and we got into his car.

On the radio, a certain Taylor Swift song was playing and I started humming it (before you judge my musical tastes, I listen to pretty much everything.  And I'm not just saying that because it's what people say.  If Jay-Z was on, I would have probably started rapping.  Same for you, Kings of Leon.).  Jordan started laughing at me, as if humming Taylor Swift with no shame was funny.  Ok, maybe it was.  So I started actually singing it, and he laughed more.  Then, it happened: I caught him singing a few lines!

"Wait...you totally know this song!" I yelled
"Shut up!  If you tell anyone about this I swear I'll hit you!"
"You'd never hit me, you love me too much!  Romeo take me somewhere we can be alone (me singing off key) Why aren't you singing?"
"I refuse to humor you."

So I grabbed his hands and started making huge gestures with them, as if he was conducting an orchestra, and finally got him singing.  We both sang the chorus and laughed until it came on again and then sang it even louder.  When the song was over we kept laughing and I said, "Don't worry, babycakes, I won't tell anyone you love Taylor Swift.  And I don't think you're any less of a man for knowing the words."

"Great, now I really feel like a loser!"
"Nah, you shouldn't, I don't judge you for this.  What do you want to do now?"
"Emma...." he said, and I felt him staring at me while I sat in the passenger seat staring at my purse.
"Yeah?" I finally turned to look at him.
"I just...I don't know.  Fuck it," he said, and then he pulled my chin close to him and kissed me.

Yep, this is happening, I'm finally making out with Jordan, in a car, in the parking lot of a 24 hour diner.  I've only been waiting for this to happen for 8 years.  For once in my life I didn't over-think something, I didn't wonder what it meant, I didn't care if this was just his solution to our boredom or if he actually had feelings for me.  I just enjoyed it.  Things progressed to more than PG stuff, and I found myself in a position in a car that I hadn't been in for years.

I found myself straddling him, I almost honked the horn with my butt to get into this position and he said, "We need to find somewhere to go."  He had roommates.  I had roommates.  It was kind of an unspoken agreement that this sort of thing shouldn't actually be happening between us.  I didn't want to deal with friends giving me the, "I told you so," look.  Besides, one of my friends already predicted this would happen and I don't like it when she's right.  I agreed we needed to find somewhere else to park the car, until I noticed what time it was.  I had to be to school in four hours (yeah, I was that girl, I rarely skipped class in college).  I regrettably declined and we made plans for the next night when I was done with work and his roommate would be out of town.  Bingo.

Now, I don't really like planning sex.  Especially with someone I've never had sex with before, that just makes things seem totally awkward.  Also, I still had no idea if my feelings for him were mutual.  Anyway, I drove to his place after work, we had some amazing sex, and I spent the night (I generally don't do sleepovers).  The next night we did the same thing, but I planned on going home.  While we were laying there naked, he said, "I have to tell you something and I don't want it to make things weird."

"Being naked is never an appropriate time to tell someone something that might be weird," I said.
"Fine, I won't tell you then."
"I'm just kidding.  What's up?"
"Ok, well, I like you, and if you don't like me like that I understand." BINGO!
"I see.  And how long have you had these feelings for me?" That's right, play it cool, Emma.  Now is not the time to get all mushy.
"I don't know.  I don't remember not having these feelings for you."
"Hmm...so you're saying since we met?"
"I guess if I have to spell it out for you, yeah."
"Oh, well, if you're going to be a dick I'm going to end this conversation right now."
"Fine." (longest silence ever) "Wait, you can't do that!"
"I can do whatever I want."
"Are you just messing with me?"
"Yes."
"You have feelings for me too?"
"Yes."
"Since when?"
"Since, well, forever," finally, it was all out there.

And there we were, naked, and my life was changed in just five minutes: Jordan was finally my boyfriend.  Of course, we, um, celebrated.

Dear readers, don't get too excited.  We dated for a week and called it quits.  Totally mutual breakup, just decided we were better off as friends.  A month later?  We dated again, for three weeks.  Same breakup.  A month after that breakup?  We dated again, for the last time, for an entire month.  It just wasn't meant to be.  It only felt that way since we had these hidden feelings for each other for so long.  With everything out in the open it was only exciting for so long.  Then, our relationship turned into really good friends that have sex.  I know what you're thinking, that's what every relationship should be like!  But sometimes it just doesn't work out. 

Where are we now, as of July 3, 2011?  Well, we're really good friends that have sex.  He's one of my best friends, I tell him everything.  When Shawn (you haven't met him yet) and I were having problems, I'd always be with Jordan forgetting about it (by that I mean getting drunk, not cheating, I'm not like that.  You can read more about what it's like to cheat on me here). 

Some of my friends have asked me why Jordan and I aren't together.  I can't really answer that question.  I know he gets random feelings for another girl, and I don't really look at him that way anymore.  It's just an actual friends with benefits situation.  Whether or not we'll date again in the future I can't tell, I don't own a crystal ball.  But, if I had to guess, I'd say that ship has sailed and things will remain the way they are until one of us gets into a relationship with someone else.  Then we'll go back to just being regular friends.  And I'm totally fine with that.

She's the Boss?

Today's blog is by my first guest blogger, M-. 

Emma mentioned to me earlier in the week that recently, she noticed a lot of her guy friends were quickly becoming involved with very domineering women (at least, on the relationship side of things - I don't think she can speak to what happens in the bedroom), and wondered what my thoughts were on the situation.

My response?

It's an epidemic.

I've been noticing it quite a bit myself - in fact, one of my best friends (we call him NorthSide on my blog) is involved in just that type of relationship.  He's since moved in with the girl (or, more aptly, she moved in with him, since he pays for the apartment himself) and has taken to adhering to her every whim (which are frequent and often absolutely crazy).  For instance, she has to get up at 6:30 in the morning and go to work, but she will not do so unless he gets up with her (this girl is 23, mind you, and he doesn't have to be at work until 9).  Otherwise, she threatens to quit her job.  He's no longer allowed to come out on the town with anyone (me especially; candidcupid readers know why) and the one time he did, she went on an especially tyrannical rampage that ended with her trying to make the cab company he had called the night before (the only number she didn't recognize in his phone, which she went through in the middle of the night) admit they were in fact a girl he had hooked up with. 

Seriously.

I don't know what the draw is.  Yes, she's semi-attractive and I'm sure she's...generous...with her physical affection, but it's nothing compared to all the negative.  She hates me for some obvious (and not so obvious) reasons, first and foremost of which is that I, quite frankly, won't put up with anything of the sort.  Don't get me wrong; I'm far from a misogynist.  I certainly don't want to be in charge.  The idea that there has to be a sense of "control" in a relationship is preposterous to begin with, but if you're into that sort of thing A) loosen the hell up and B) make sure you see each other as equals.  I refuse to be led around by the proverbial brass ring in the nose.  I'm sure quite a few females (especially after reading my blog) would be quick to say it's because of my "playboy" lifestyle, but that's little more than a throwaway label. As I mentioned before, it isn't that I'm against my lack of control, I just don't see a reason for any in general.  There are, of course, lines and boundaries that have to be respected.  I remember a particularly drawn-out fight I had with an old girlfriend when she wanted to go to a fraternity Halloween party. 

As a "slutty" Indiana Jones.

And as one of two girls who would be there, the other of which was her best friend (and career sorostitute.  Urbandictionary it, kids).

I said "no." 

The resulting argument was long and drawn out, and ended in tears (hers, not mine), but ultimately, she ended up not going.  Similarly, another girlfriend I had requested that I avoid a certain downtown venue where one of her friends tended bar.  She said the girl had made it a habit to make a pass at every boyfriend she'd had since sixth grade (how this made her a "friend" I'll never know) and that she had a particularly keen eye for me (and just so happened, what with her dark brown hair, darker brown eyes, and phenomenal figure, to be just my type).  And respected her wishes (until we broke up, that is.  And yes, before you ask, I did.  Sue me). 

There is no room for this sort of thing in the bella vita. 

Drink some wine.  Make some love.  Enjoy each other for who you are.

You'd be amazed how everything else just seems to fall right into place.

M-

(Care to read more of M's musing?  Then check out his blog over at  http://candidcupid.wordpress.com/ or follow him on Twitter)

Caution: Water may be hot

Recap

The last time we talked about Jordan he was engaged and it seemed as though he wasn't allowed to see me or talk to me.  Which, by the way, I never understood considering we never fooled around, expressed feelings for each other, or anything.  We were just friends.  Then I didn't hear from him for a long, long time.  I don't remember the exact amount of time, but it was definitely months.  Honestly, I kind of forgot about him.  To clarify, it's been three years since we've actually seen each other.  This all happened a few years ago.

The Call

I returned home from Italy and was back at work.  I was driving home one night and had a call coming in from, you guessed it, Jordan!  I answered and was a little snotty to him because it had been so long since he called or even sent a text (yes, I put in effort and tried contacting him at the beginning of the drought in our friendship, but gave up after so many unanswered calls/texts).  He asked if I wanted to meet him at a local diner in 30 minutes and I said, "Oh, you can actually see me now?  How do I know you're not going to stand me up?"  He explained that he was no longer engaged and is now single.  I accepted the offer of hanging out.  After all, I'm not the kind of girl that wants you sneaking around on someone.

30 minutes wasn't enough time to go home and change, so I went straight to the diner.  I touched up my makeup in the car (I actually applied lip gloss, that's only for special people or if I'm feeling extra fancy).  I didn't feel like sitting in the car any longer, so I went inside and grabbed a booth in the smoking section.  I ordered a Diet Coke, and nervously smoked a few cigarettes.  He was late.  Go figure.  As I watched the paper burn down to the filter (what I do when I'm nervous), I realized he was going to know I was sitting here waiting for him for so long.  There were three cigarettes in the ash tray and I was stubbing out number four, and I'll admit, that's pretty disgusting.

So, since I live in Emmaville, population: 1, I quickly came up with a plan.  I'm going to put this out there right now: it wasn't a genius plan or anything.  In fact, I'm probably the only person in the world that thinks you look like a loser because the other person was late in meeting you, which "forced" you to chain smoke.  Right, on with the plan!

The Plan

The booth was right by the bathroom.  I could take the ash tray to the bathroom (it was a one-stall kind of thing, so no one would walk in on this scene) and dump out the evidence of me sitting there for so long.  Excellent.

Not.

I dumped out the ashes, decided to actually use the bathroom, and noticed there was smoke coming from the garbage can.  That's right, your favorite genius over here didn't fully put out that last cigarette in all the haste.  Well, sh*t, Jordan just so happens to be a firefighter, so this looks horrible.  I can't be the girl that started the fire in a diner bathroom, what would he think of me?  I'd lose all his respect, and I honestly could never bring myself to tell this story on the news when asked why I started the fire.  

I pulled up my pants and walked over to the faucet, didn't pay attention to anything other than the sign 

Caution: Water may be hot  

 

Yeah, how hot can it get?  I cranked on the water at near-full-speed, got some in my hands and walked over to the garbage.  I took a few seconds to inspect it, there was just one tiny flame and a few burning embers, but it smelled like something terrible.  Do people actually wash their hands?  Because I would think the paper towel in there would be damp and this whole episode wouldn't have happened (yes, I blame 10% of this situation on the dirty people that just throw paper towel in the garbage to make it appear as though they've washed their hands.  I've seen it happen).

Anyway, I go back to the faucet to get one more handful of water for good measure, and hey!  I turned the hot water on!  How hot can it get?  Scorching, actually.  Enough for me to yell a few obscenities and dump the burning water into the garbage (yeah, maybe I'm exaggerating a bit, but you don't know how it felt).  I turned the cold water on, washed my hands, and threw a damp paper towel into the garbage.  I retrieved the ash tray and my purse, opened the door, just to find a laughing Jordan in the booth I was previously sitting in.  "What the hell was going on in there?" he asked.  What can I say?  All I could come up with was, "Just some stuff.  What's up?"

To be continued...

Creepers

OK, so there are tons of creepy guys out there, and I'm aware there's probably an equal amount of creepy girls.  I recently (last night) had a horribly creepy situation at a gas station.  Before I get to that, let's rewind to a few years ago so you understand why I hate gas stations at night.

Working in retail means I'm at the store until 9PM or later.  On this particular night, I was leaving pretty late and stopped to get gas and cigarettes on the way home.  I finished getting gas, walked inside to purchase cigarettes, finished the transaction and walked back to my car.  I was minding my own business the entire time.  On my way back to the car, this man started shouting, "Hey!  Hey!  Hey!" and I ignored him, just to hear more, "HEY! HEY! HEY!" getting louder and louder.  I finally got to my car and he was right behind me.  This was too much for me.  He said, "Hey, pretty girl, I just want to know your name!"  I stood there and waited for him to back off, which he thankfully did.  He said, "OK, fine, but I think we should go out some time," and I replied, "I don't think so," and reached for the car door.  As I reached for the handle, he took a step forward and I put my hand up and said, "I swear, if you get one inch closer to me I'm going to either scream or put my stiletto where it hurts."  This seemed to be effective and he sulked away.

Why would I go out with someone that was persistent to the point of creepy?  I'm all about guys that put in a lot of effort, but take a hint.  Also, I don't respond to "HEY! HEY! HEY!"  a simple, "Excuse me, miss," would have probably gotten a better response from me.  Oh, and at another gas station I was once called "sugar tits."  And on a totally separate occasion, I saw a man fondling himself at a gas station.  I hope these are isolated incidents, but let's speed things up to present day.  Or last night.

Once again, I'm on my way home from work and I need gas.  I had just started filling up when a car pulled up to the pump behind me, on the other side.  I was simply leaning against my car staring at how many gallons were left to go, when I got that weird feeling of being watched.  So I looked over at the other car and there were three guys.  One was sitting in the back seat and two were walking into the gas station.  The one in the back seat was staring at me.  I thought it was weird so I resumed staring at how much money I was spending to fill up the tank.  Except, I couldn't focus on it because I still felt like he was staring at me.  I looked over again and he was staring and smiling.  Then, one of the other guys came back to the car, folded his arms in front of him on the hood, rested his chin on his arms, and also stared at me.  He never smiled.

Suddenly, my pump clicked, and I thanked God for letting me get the hell out of there.  Seriously, what was the deal?  I've compiled a list of things guys, or anyone really, can do or avoid to make sure they aren't being creepers.

1. Don't stare.  Yes, it's nice to know you think we're cute.  You can accomplish that with a quick glance and/or smile.  If you've been looking for 30 seconds or more, non-stop, you seriously need to reconsider your creeper level and realize this person is probably not interested anymore.
2. Don't shout.  If you yell, "HEY!  HEY!  HEY!" I might not even know you're talking to me.  It's also pretty rude, and it makes you look like a jerk.  Oh, and it's annoying.
3. Take a hint.  Along with numbers 1 and 2, if someone doesn't respond to your staring or shouting, back off.  There's no shame in quitting the pursuit with someone clearly not interested.  You actually look more ridiculous when you keep trying.
4. Don't underestimate basic compliments.  So you've gotten past the staring stage, and you would rather talk to a girl than shout, you can say something simple like, "I think you're really pretty."  You don't have to try to get any more specific or creative.  Once, this dude walked up to me in a loud bar and said into my ear, "Hey!  I like your face!"  I didn't want to be totally rude or anything, so I said, "Thanks.  Have a good night!" and steered my friends to a different area of the bar.
5. If it hasn't worked on someone yet, it probably never will.  If your line or strategy does nothing but strike you out, you need to come up with some new material.  Simplicity is key, cheesy pick up lines are only out there to be laughed at.

If you still have a problem with being a creeper, then maybe you should just stay at home and watch TV or read or something.  Because I'm sick of encountering you...even if I do get a good laugh out of the situation later.

Alessandro: Part 3

Two hot Italian guys + two charming American girls = a lot of fun on a boat in the middle of the Tyrrhenian Sea.

This was probably one of the best days ever.  The guys took us out on the boat and it was another scorching, humid day.  Of course, my curly hair was starting to get a little puffy and resemble a fro, but I didn't care (OK, I probably did care a little).  We packed a ton of fruit for lunch and we were laying on the boat tanning (OK, I was probably burning) when suddenly I'm splashed with water!  After some playful arguing, I pushed Alessandro and he jumped overboard, while holding my arm so I would go overboard, too.

That night was the festival for the San Vito, the patron saint of Positano.  We watched the fireworks together, went dancing, and fell asleep on the beach together (not like bums or anything, I'll let you use your imagination).  Mel and I went back to visit Positano again on a weekend during our classes, but we decided to stop there, it wasn't like we were going to have a transatlantic relationship with these guys or anything.  Plus, Mel actually had a boyfriend back home.  I'm not one to judge, but I wouldn't have done that.

We talked to Alessandro and Enrico almost every day, and when we came back to the United States we kept in touch via e-mail.  That was definitely one of my favorite summers, and just thinking about it is making me miss Italy like crazy, so I think I need to end this blog here.  If I don't, I'll be in a shitty mood all day because I can't decide whether I should move to Italy or not!  OK, enough Italy talk for now!

Alessandro: Part 2

We walked up to the house and met Enrico’s roommates.  There were a handful of other people there, but with the events that happened later, I didn’t remember their names.  Enrico, Mel, some guy named Marco and I went out onto the balcony, and with perfect timing entered Alessandro with a few bottles of Prosecco.  Alessandro shook the Prosecco a little and opened it.  When it fizzed out the top he grabbed some in his fingers and rubbed it behind my ears and said, “For good luck,” and did the same for Mel, Marco, Enrico, and then himself.  He filled some glasses, passed them out and announced, in Italian, “To new friendships!” and we all took a drink.

Niccolo and I talked all night (in Italian) about anything and everything.  We both had knee surgery (on the same knee with a strikingly similar scar), he’s from a nearby town, Vico Equense, and works in Positano every summer where he makes good money as a waiter with all the tourists in town.  He has a big family, and a niece he adores.
 

After Mel, Enrico and Marco decided to go back into the house, Alessandro led me to the edge of the flower pot-lined balcony to look over at the other houses which were tumbling down the hill.  I had never seen anything so beautiful before, the houses looked like they grew out of the hill rather than having been strategically placed and built there.  The clarity of the stars on the warm June night was amazing, not something I typically see at home.  Tonight, thousands of stars were thrown across the sky and each one had a perfect reflection in the sea.

Alessandro stood closer to me and said, “I would like to kiss you now.”  He grabbed me by the waist and stared directly into my eyes, which was pretty uncomfortable because I never had someone staring at me so intensely.  He said, “Bella, I would love to fly into your eyes.”  I held back every inch of me that wanted to laugh.  He wants to fly into my eyes? I thought, That has to be the dorkiest line I’ve ever heard!  I couldn’t decide if it was just some nerdy line he fed to all the tourists, but I simply smiled, put my hand on his chest and said, “Well, I don’t want you to kiss me right now.”  Ha!  Take that!  I can play hard-to-get...kind of!
 

“What?  Why can’t I kiss you now?  Why can’t I kiss you whenever I want?”
“Because I’m not the kind of girl who just lets a guy kiss her whenever he wants!”  OK, this was probably a lie.
“Don't you see I want to be more than your friend?” he asked smiling.
“Uhm, yeah, sure, but you can't tell me before you kiss me!  You have to just do it!”
“But why?”
“I like being surprised.  I’d like to be walking down the street when you just grab me and kiss me without warning.  That’s more romantic than you trying to get a kiss by telling me you want to fly into my eyes!”
“OK, then I'll kiss you when you don’t expect it!”  I could see the gears in his head turning, thinking of the perfect moment to surprise me with a kiss.

I really did want to kiss him right then and there, it really would have been romantic, but I was a little nervous and needed to buy some time.  A nervous kiss isn’t always a good kiss.  At first I was more nervous anticipating a kiss, but at least now I knew he wanted to kiss me, just like I wanted to kiss him.

We talked a little more about our lives and our goals for the future.  I was impressed with how certain he was that he’d like to own a restaurant someday and he would appoint himself head chef, because there’s nothing he loves to do more than cook.  I made up some fantasy of moving to Italy and owning a hotel.  I felt like I had to say something impressive, even though, deep down, I had absolutely no clue what I wanted to do with my life.

Finally, it was almost five o’clock in the morning, and well past time to go back to the hotel.  We decided it was time to leave and wait outside until the ladies would unlock the doors and have breakfast started.  Then, we realized we didn’t remember how to get back to the hotel through the winding maze of roads and half-broken cement stairs.  Thankfully, Alessandro and Enrico gladly offered to walk us home. 
 

Enrico and Mel walked ahead of Alessandro and I, stopping to make out at every possible chance.  We walked past a group of late-teen guys who were probably partying all night, and they were shouting something to Enrico and Alessandro, and I suddenly felt a little ashamed.  These guys probably think we had sex with them!  I must have shown an ashamed look on my face, after all, I didn’t have sex with anyone, and Alessandro yelled something in an angry tone at them.  I have no idea what he said but it sounded good to me and the guys quickly shut up.
 

We got closer to the hotel and I finally knew my surroundings.  There was a huge wall comprised of large stones with jagged edges and small spurts of green grass and tiny wildflowers growing out of them.  In all my travels so far, this is still one of my favorite roads because it seemed to wind around the hill nonstop.  One of my shoes slipped off my left foot a little, so I took a quick pause to fix it.  Just when I was finished, Alessandro grabbed my face in both his hands and gave me a hard, long kiss.  I had butterflies going nonstop all the way through the depths of my stomach and I had never had a kiss before that made me feel that way.  Sure, I’ve gotten butterflies before, but nothing this intense.  Could it be possible that I actually had some feelings for him after only knowing him a few hours?  Maybe it was just the element of surprise I was hoping for.  Or maybe just that much time had passed since I actually had a good kiss.  It felt like I was in a movie and some asshole director would yell, "CUT!" any second now.  After the kiss, he asked, “Did I surprise you?”  I could only really reply with a big, goofy smile and managed to push out the word, “Si.”  He smiled, grabbed my hand, laced each of our fingers together, and we continued walking.

We finally reached our destination.  Enrico requested to talk to Alessandro privately, while Mel eagerly asked me, “So…did you do it?”  I just laughed and said, “Oh my God, no, why, did you?”  She just gave a smile hinting that they either had sex, or came pretty close to it, then said, “So, what if Enrico were to spend the night tomorrow?”  I didn’t know what to say.  I obviously wasn’t going to sleep in a bed next to two people having sex.  I’m sure we’d be able to find a way to sneak him in past the ladies who owned the hotel, but this didn't sound fun for me.  I replied, “Well, I certainly won’t ruin your fun!  Maybe I’ll go walk around the beach or something and you can call me when you guys are done with your, um, alone time.”  Mel replied, “Or you could go home with Alessandro and have some fun of your own, but either way, you’re the best!”  I just smiled, not eager to do either of my two options, but I’m sure I could find some way to occupy my time.  Besides, I had already been to Italy and fooled around with guys, I thought I was over it.  Until that kiss (insert sigh and big goofy smile).

After the small discussion was over, Alessandro pulled me aside and said, “Paolo doesn’t know if he will spend the night with Mel tomorrow night, but if he does, you can stay with me.”  We made plans for the following day, made out some more, and Mel and I sat down outside the hotel waiting for it to open.

Alessandro: Part 1

Positano, Italy

My friend Mel and I were traveling before studying for a month in Florence, and we decided we couldn't pass up visiting the Amalfi Coast.  We decided to stay in Positano, and we finally arrived in the picturesque hill town located just off the deep blue, sparkling Tyrrhenian Sea.  There are a few different ways to get to Positano, the main options were by bus or boat.  We decided to take the bus and after 15 minutes we regretted this decision.

The bus took us all around the Amalfi Coast, of course Positano was almost at the end of the entire route.  It was a tall, coach bus and we were thankful to at least be comfortable!  Being an American, these roads looked too small to drive a mid-sized car on, let alone a huge bus.  It was one lane going each way, and the bus took up almost half of the other lane.  We wound our way around the huge hills on the right side of the bus, which left us nervously looking out the left side of the bus, where we seemed to be dangerously close to falling off the cliff and tumbling down into the sea.  Every time a curve came about, the bus driver would lay on the horn a few times to let someone coming from the other direction know that we were heading straight for them at what felt like high speeds.  I also managed to get carsick, err bus-sick, which doesn't happen often.  We decided to stop looking out the windows, considering we were both having near vomiting experiences.

We made it to the bus' first stop: Amalfi.  We were told Positano was next, we looked at each other and I said, "So, we could get off here and wait for the next bus, ya know, so I don't hurl all over myself."  Mel replied, "We have to get the fuck off this bus and I'm not getting back on another one."  We were excellent travel partners because we both had vulgar mouths, thought the same things were funny, and we belched a lot and didn't feel bad or embarrassed about it.  We also both enjoyed jamming out to Justin Timberlake...but then again, who doesn't?  We took a taxi from Amalfi to Positano and traveled down the same treacherous roads.  We were relieved to see the taxi driver didn't appear to be on the same suicide mission as the bus driver.
When we arrived at the hotel we found out there was a midnight curfew, took showers and got ready to go down to the beach and explore the town.  We didn't care about that midnight curfew, we read that most bars closed at 1 and we didn't plan on getting too crazy anyway.  However, we did take note that if we were out past curfew the main door would be locked and we couldn't get back inside until they reopened everything 6AM.

We weren't dressed to impress, just wearing shorts and halters or tube tops and flip flops.  We shopped a bit, I bought some Diesel sunglasses I couldn't pass up at the time (now I never wear them, go figure), and we sat on the beach and dug our toes into the sand until we were hungry enough for dinner.  We chose a random restaurant, sat down and ordered from our waiter, Enrico. To make a long dinner story short, Enrico made some joke about the Pinot Grigio we ordered and we flirted with him through the rest of dinner.  He invited us to a party at his apartment that he shares with a few people, and told us to meet him at 11.  By his description of the party location, we figured we'd have time to stop by, have a quick drink, and then head back to the hotel before curfew.

We climbed the steps to our hotel, which seemed to be placed somewhere in the middle of the hill, and changed into more appropriate partywear.  We were so excited to go to this party and we had a ton of time to kill, so we went back down to the beach area and had a glass of wine while we waited for Enrico's shift to end.

Scott

Shortly after my return from Europe in 2004 I started working at a retail store the summer before starting college.  I intended on keeping the job part time while going to school, but I ended up working and going to school full time.  It was an exciting summer for me, because my high school dance team coach asked me and a few other girls if we'd like to be on a collegiate dance team.  The team was a little difficult to get used to at first, we were now on the same team as girls that recently graduated from high school teams we had been competing against and everyone had an attitude at first: we were all stuck up girls who thought we were better than everyone else, it was a recipe for disaster.  Eventually we all got along and we ended up going to competitions against dance teams from other colleges, and we even kicked ass against my university's dance team.  Twice.  Life was good.

It was also an exciting summer because I met my next boyfriend, Scott.  Scott lived near Katie, the Assistant Manager at my store.  She talked about him a few times, and he was somewhat dating her roommate.  I finally met him when Katie called him to go to her house, get her tampons, and bring them to work for her.  I'm sure it was awkward for him to deliver her tampons.

Once Scott arrived at the store, I immediately thought he was cute, and a random shyness came over me.  For once in my life I didn't have something to say, it was a miracle.  Katie went to get something to eat, and Scott stayed and talked to me for a while.  He was my age and just got a job at the store just down the hall from us.  When Katie came back she sat down in the back room and ate and talked to Scott while I watched the front of the store.  On Scott's way out, he handed me a piece of paper with his phone number on it and told me to call him.  I smiled, said I would, and put it in my pocket.  While he was walking out of the store I realized I'd probably never have the guts to actually call him, so I quickly wrote down my phone number and ran out after him.

"I'm sorry," I said, "but to be completely honest, I'm never going to call you.  So here's my number if you ever feel like giving me a call."
"Well if you don't want to go out with me some time you can just say so," he replied.
"NO!  It's not that!  I just...won't call you," I said, attempting to laugh and never making eye contact.
"Alright then," he said laughing, "I'll call you."

Part of me didn't think he'd actually call, but he did a few days later and we talked on the phone for a while.  He kept visiting the store and eventually we actually went on a date.  Everything went so well and we made it exclusive, meanwhile Katie's roommate hated me, but I was under the impression that they weren't exclusively dating each other so I didn't feel bad.

Scott was an amazing boyfriend.  Every time we got into an argument it was quickly resolved, except toward the end.  I don't exactly remember what we were fighting about at the end of the relationship, but everything went downhill after we went on a vacation together, which is when we quickly realized we can't spend so much time together without going nuts.  After we got home, things quickly spiraled out of control with our arguments and we broke up.  To this day, that 10 month relationship was the longest I've ever been in.  I feel bad not dedicating more time to explaining our story, but I don't think there's much to explain.  At the time I thought I was in love, but my idea of what love is has changed since then and I wouldn't consider that the case now.

Around the time of our break up I had a lot of other things going on, so it seemed even more devastating since my whole life was changing.  Not only did we break up and I was heartbroken, but I also made the decision to quit the dance team.  Since we were chosen to be on the team based on high school performances, there were no try outs and we didn't have definitive start and end times to a season, so I couldn't finish out the season and decide not to try out again.  I had to actually quit, and I never quit anything before in my life.

That was also a tough decision to make, but practices started to be too much for me.  We were constantly experimenting and trying new leaps and turns, and in one competition the most embarrassing thing happened to me: I blew out my knee and fell in the middle of the performance (I had been dancing with a torn ACL for about four years at that point).  I literally had to crawl off to the side while strangers came and helped me up and walked me to another room to ice my knee.  I still had another performance later that day, so I rested as much as possible, tightened my knee brace, and went out for my second performance.  I was in excruciating pain the entire time and it was the longest two minutes of my life, but I made it through and shortly after I had to quit.  A year later, I finally had surgery to fix the problem.

I made a few changes in my life, it was time to stop being so depressed about the break up with Scott and my dancing life.  I started teaching ballet and tap to kids at my old dance school, and I was even able to perform in the year end recital.  That whole experience taught me patience, a virtue I hadn't yet perfected in my life.  I also had a new dream.  I was going to study abroad in Rome for a month in the summer and it was the best experience of my life.  Since then, I've gone to Italy every year and had the opportunity to travel to over 40 different cities and see a few other countries, too.  I also had a few Italian guys I met and kept in contact with, but only one really stood out, and after meeting him I forgot all about Scott...

Extreme workout week begins!

Enough reminiscing for now and back to present day...

When you think of a personal trainer you probably think of the hit TV show The Biggest Loser, where Bob and Jillian make people do what sometimes appears to be frightening things all in the name of weight loss.  That's not how my personal trainer is, even though sometimes one more set of squats with a 25lb weight, or anything for that matter, can be pretty terrifying.

Here's the situation: I joined a new gym and was referred to this trainer by a friend.  I walked into the gym and said I had an appointment with (insert male name here).  The man behind the counter scanned my card and said, "Oh!  You must be Emma!  I'm (name)!"  Oh. Hell. No.  I can't train with someone that looks this good!

It's very difficult to stand there and look at those muscles while struggling to lift a weight over my head for the 15th time, but I guess he expects me to be weak, right?  I'm working on restoring myself to my former glory, back when I still did ballet and was on dance teams, so I suppose it's not a bad thing that I have someone nice to look at while I try as hard as I can not to give up.

This week is extreme workout week.  I'm going to go running daily, because I really have no excuse not to.  Running helps me clear my mind, and I've got a lot of clearing to do since an ex recently sent me a text that has made it impossible for me to stop thinking about him (of course, I'd never tell him that).  That whole story will be coming in the next week or so, and maybe I'll finally get some clarity by writing it all out!

Europe 2004: Paris

The guys in Paris were nothing to brag about.  Don’t get me wrong, some of them were gorgeous, but Paris wasn’t what I was expecting.  I think my favorite memory of Paris was sitting in a café in Monmartre with one of the girls, she was sketching and I was writing.  It felt like we were recreating history, this is where famous artists and poets came for inspiration.  We were rudely interrupted by a group of guys asking if we’d like to learn how to French kiss.  Shut the front door!  They actually asked that!  We politely said we already knew how, and ignored them.  After taking a picture, of course.

The last night in Paris we were supposed to have dinner and then go to the Eiffel Tower to see the City of Lights from the top.  We were sharing a large room, and the four of us bought a few bottles of wine.  We sat in a circle, reminiscing about high school and how we were all from different groups and cliques, but here we were in Europe together.  After four girls consumed five bottles of some shitty red wine, one girl leaned over and just started throwing up.  We were obviously amateurs.  Once again, a chain reaction.  Our room was full of vomit and red vomit stained towels, and we were going to be late for dinner if we didn’t leave now.  We grabbed a bunch of plastic bags, dumped out the souvenirs, and headed for the subway.  Being drunk and figuring out the Paris metro is not a good idea.  We got lost (a common theme on that trip), ended up in what I can only imagine is a horrible neighborhood, full of strip clubs, porn stores, and middle aged, overweight hookers in fishnets winking at us.  I think I threw up everything I ate the whole trip in that street, but at least it got that group of dirty looking guys to leave us alone. 

We made it to dinner, all four of us still sick. We said we ate some bad cheese at lunch and no one believed us.