Guy: “Hey, you want to go someplace, sometime?”

Girl: “Are you asking me out?”

Guy: “Do you want me to ask you out?”

Girl: “I don’t know. What do you do again?”

Guy: “I fix things, like a Mr. Fix It. So, wanna?”

Girl: “Oh. Well. Mr. Fix It, can you fix my heart?”

Guy: “What seems to be the matter?”

Girl: “It’s broken.”

Last night, I went over to this little bar for a friend’s b-day function. I wasn’t in the celebratory mood but felt the need to show face and wish the guy well. I was in one of those not-so-social moods so I sat quietly at a table alone. As I sipped on my beer, I watched my friends having a blast around me.

Disconnected from what was going on in the room, since I felt trapped in my head. I carelessly dropped my beer. It slipped through my fingers as my thought took over me. The glass of Sierra Nevada was plummeting to the ground.

Oh, gravity, you’re so evil and cruel.

I looked down, the glass shattered all over the floor and I looked over to my left as some strange guy was eyeing the incident.

I blushed feeling the blood rushing to my cheeks. I hoped I was in a dream and not embarrassing myself. But no, it was really happening. He then walked over, and I quickly altered my stance to look cool instead, I looked like a dork.

He peered over and locked eyes with me. His intense gaze drew me into him and told me all I needed to know, he was a soulless friend. His eyes were slightly sunken in like all the energy and passion he once had for life, somehow along the way, the world brutally sucked it out of him.

I imagined him sitting around his stark living room listening to industrial metal brooding about his shattered dreams.

“If only, I stayed there longer…if only, I knew then, what I know…” he’d think to himself, clenching his fist, raising his middle finger, and aiming it up at the ceiling, “If anyone is listening! Go get fucked!”

Then he spoke to me and snapped me out of my little day dream. The music in the room was blaring a pop song and his words got lost in the shuffle. I think he asked if I needed a hand. I coyly smiled back and uttered a soft, delicate, “Yes.”

From there, he reached down and began picking up the biggest pieces of the broken glass.

“This reminds me of, my…” he was about to say and then trailed off into deep thoughts.

“Life?” I questioned.

“Yes, how did you know?” his sullen face slightly brighten up. There we were two humans, who completely got each other for just that single moment. We didn’t have to say another word.

He continued to clean up my mess, deposed up the pieces in the trash and then walked away quickly leaving me behind. I saw his glossy black hair was swept back in a pony tail and was perplexed by the entire meeting. He left without saying good bye, without revealing his name but had a story that needed to be heard.

I ran out the door, in hopes to find him in the street. He was nowhere to be found. Vanished. I turned the corner and found an alley way, littered with trash and two drunkards passed out on card board boxes.

“Excuse me, miss,” said a male voice in the distance. I couldn’t see anyone.

“Don’t try to follow me,” the voice continued, “I’m on a path to destruction.”

“But, I can help you!” I screamed out.

“No, I will destroy you!” the voice hissed back.

I dug my heels into the ground, deciphering my next move. I turned around and went back to the birthday party, lit a cigarette, took one drag and threw it on the ground.

“I need to quit,” I said to myself, “I need to quit you. Now.”

Today, I woke up earlier than usual. So, I did what I usually do. I rolled over and checked my email, Facebook, and Twitter accounts on my iPhone. Then, I headed to the kitchen and made some hot green tea.

I sat down on the couch and heard this annoying buzzing sound in my left ear. I got up, went back to the kitchen for some honey, returned to the couch and gazed at the tv. I turned it on and then turned it back off.

The buzzing returned and then I realized it came from a pestering mosquito. I clapped my hands trying to squash it to its doom.

“Buzzz,” fluttered the enemy.

“Oh, you nasty little critter!” I shrieked and suddenly stood up to change rooms.

I went back to bed. And the mosquito followed.

“I will destroy you,” whispered the bug.

“What?”

“I will destroy you,” repeated the mosquito in a low, raspy voice.

“OMG, I’m hearing things!” I thought to myself, “There is no way that this is happening!”

And it wasn’t. I was dreaming.

At that point, the buzzing grew louder and the mosquito flew around my head in circles making me anxious. But I couldn’t keep up with it to kill it.

“What do you want from me?” I pleaded.

“Your blood! Aha ha ha!” it said with an evil laugh.

It was war. I figured I had to take quick action to save myself. So, I ran outside, the mosquito followed, and I ran some more until I reached my neighbor’s pool.

“You want blood, you bitch!”

“Yes!”

“Come on and get it!”

The mosquito landed on my left shoulder and I felt it piercing through my skin. I took a deep breath and then jumped into the pool and stayed under water. My plan was to drown the relentless mosquito.

I woke up, drenched in sweat, alone in my bed. The mosquito was gone. And then, I rolled over and picked up my iPhone to call my Mother.

“Hey, Mom, you wouldn’t believe this weird dream I had…”

I had this weird dream last night that I was swimming around in a pool of lettuce. And what was weirder, I wasn’t alone.

I was with a hippy guy who promised to fulfill all my romantic fantasies.

“Want some red wine?” he asked.

“Ok,” I replied and he then climbed out of the pool, poured two glasses of wine and turned on Marvin Gaye’s “Sexual Healing” on the stereo.

It doesn’t get any cheesier than this, but it did.

“I was thinking about going to the flower shop today but instead, I got this,” he said and pulled out an enormous bag of lettuce.

“Baby, it’s organic!” he exclaimed.

“I don’t get it?” I questioned and swam to the other side of the pool.

“It’s pure organic goodness!” he said and then ripped opened the bag shredding the plastic wrapping like a primal beast hungry for dinner.

Copious amounts of lettuce burst out of the bag, flung into the air and landed in every direction into the pool.

I don’t know how so much lettuce was contained in the bag but it appeared there was an endless supply of the organic spring mix to almost cover the pool’s surface.

Pieces of lettuce floated all around me and I realized I was living in a vegetarian’s dream, so I swam back over to my hippy lover.

There we were, swimming around in a pool of lettuce, drinking red wine and cooing softly in each other’s ears as we were just about to take his food fetish to the next level. I felt like I could run off into the sunset with this guy.

Then I woke up abruptly to my cat stretching her body over my head.

“Purr,” uttered the fur ball. She has a tendency to cling to my head in the middle of the night. It’s both endearing and annoying.

“Princess, move over!”

I went back to sleep and then dreamt about flying around hand-in-hand with the hippy guy through the clouds in the starry night. I could almost gag at how cliché this dream became.

There we were, talking about our super flying powers and how we could save the ozone layer from deteriorating into nothing. And within this nothingness, our lips locked.

It was sweet romantic goodness and the celestial sky was our world to devour like chocolate cake, one bite at a time.

I suppose this is what reaching for the stars is all about - minus the psychedelic drugs.

If I had a penis, I would use it to put out fires. But I don’t so, I suppose I’ll just have to get creative and find another way to put out fires.

You don’t have lovers, instead you sleep with your laptops.

You check your e-mail before you brush your teeth in the morning.

You wake up in the middle of the night to blog.

You dream about keyboards, LCD screens, and the iPhone 4.

You catch yourself mid conversation with your friends and say, “Do you mind if I blog this?”

I’ve been dating for almost 10 years now. And I’ve come to the point that I’d rather hang out with my cat than go on another bad date. Or any date for that matter.

I’m not going to say I’ve experienced every type of relationship, because that would be a lie. But what I will say is, dating is a dangerous place where humans search for their soul friend to only end up married or disappointed. I think it’s either one or the other.

We’re going someplace where I get to wear the white dress or we’re going to the bar to get wasted, screw and eventually break up.

I’ve only experienced the latter. And it got me thinking about marriage. Do I want to get married? I don’t know. So, I asked some of my friends who have worn the dress what they thought.

Last night, there we were, a fun foursome comprised of 3 ladies and 1 guy, all single, listening to music in the backyard.

“What was married life for you? Do you really end up bored sitting on the couch watching TV on
Saturday nights?” I asked the two ladies since they both have been married. One is an RN in her late twenties and the other is a fourtysomething teacher.

“Oh yeah,” they both agreed, “Yeah, it’s like that.”

“Really?” I asked and looked over at the guy, aged 30, who was silent.

“Then after two years, you want to strangle the person,” said the RN who is a recent divorcee clenching her teeth.

“Everything about the person begins to annoy you. Like the way that they eat, chew their food…those little noises they make with their teeth drive you crazy!” said the teacher who has never remarried since her marriage during her youth.

“You weren’t with the right people,” chimed in the guy, feeling all optimistic, “It’s not like that when you’re with the right person.” He was once engaged but never married. Perhaps, he’s still wearing rose colored glasses or he’s onto something.

“But what about getting bored of the person?” I asked.

“It’s not easy. You have to work on things and find ways to keep the fun, the spark,” he explained.

“Or, you just strangle the person,” said the recent divorcee.

“What I want is if I do it again, a house with wings. He lives on one side and I live on the other side. That’s the only way it would work for me,” said the teacher.

“I’ve heard of that one before, weird. But what’s the point?” I questioned.

“There isn’t one. After two years, if you’re not going to have kids, there’s no point in staying together.”

“Some people stay together for the kids but hate living together.”

“Yeah, that’s why my parents stayed together. They told me so last year when they got divorced,” I revealed.

“Then they weren’t right for each other,” he tried to explain.

Perhaps he’s right. I have no idea. I’ve never married my soul mate even though I have met one of mine before. It didn’t work due to his lack of commitment. Or, maybe, I was wearing rosed colored glasses at the time and was better off hanging out with my cat instead of investing my emotions into some guy.

Purrfect.

Recently, I’ve grown to love my community. Over the past few years, I’ve cultivated better friendships in my city and have developed an active social life that I could put some butterflies to shame.

If I could get paid to socialize, I’d make it my fulltime job. Over the past 12 months, I’ve seen a tremendous amount of growth in our creative community. Art shows and events are popping up all over SoFla, that you’re never left without an artful weekend to enjoy. But with communities, there’s also the possiblity of running into people you don’t want to see. Such is life, I suppose.

A few moments ago, I got a text message from a friend informing me about his show this Saturday. He’s a local musician about to go on a mini-tour.
I called him up after getting his text to ask how his life is nowadays.

“So, you guys are playing at the (insert neighborhood bar here)?”

“Yeah, come by! It would be nice to see you,” he told me.

“Sure, I’ll try to make it but, all my ex’s are lurking around that place. Aww, I don’t know if I can deal.”

“I hear you. Mine are too. Effe ‘em, come by!”

It got me thinking. Am I really going to avoid a place so I don’t have to run into an ex?

I usually do. I just rather keep the screw ball out of my view, ears, thoughts, and life for that matter.

But really, what do you do when you run into your ex? Run in the other direction? Politely say hello and ask if his lastest is a screamer or silent bed buddy? Or just, play blind? “Oh, I can’t see you!”
That’s one of the things about sharing similar interests and living within a tight niche community like I do. We creatives are drawn to certain places and there is a limit of art galleries, concert venues, coffee houses and bars in this town that I’m bound to see the dude again.

I have this rule, you see. I refuse to date people I know I have deal with on a daily basis this includes: coworkers, neighbors, and classmates. The risk of things not working out and dealing with Mr. Awkward Ex Man on the regular stresses me out.

At what point do you just say ‘Effe it, I’m going regardless if so-and-so is there!’?
I suppose I haven’t moved on to that point yet or I may end up throwing a bar stool at his head.

Better, I find something else to do this Saturday night.

“Hey, Christine, you know that dude I told you about?” I asked my friend as we were riding in the car to get some coffee.

“Uh, no,” she replied bracing herself for some of my psycho babble bullshit that would entail.

“Anyway, I met a cute guy last night at my friend’s graduation party and today when I went online he sent me a friend request on Facebook.”

“A guy you met last night?” she perked up.

“Yeah. You wouldn’t believe what happened. We stayed up until 9:30 in the effing morning talking.”

“Wow, that’s cool. Sounds like you had a good time.”

“Yeah, weird. I haven’t done the all night long conversation thing in, I can’t remember when. Did I mention that he’s cute?”

“So, he Facebooked you today?”

“Yeah, what’s up with that? Why Facebook me? We just met. Do you think that’s weird?” I said with a shaky voice as I started to get nervous.

“He’s doing research on you. He wants to see what you’re about. I Facebook guys I like too. It’s a good sign. Did you accept his friend request?”

“No, not yet. I’d rather that he just pick up the phone and called me.”

“Honey, it’s not official until it’s Facebook official!” she said with a chuckle.

Her comment got me thinking about the impact of Facebook on dating. If you’re not Facebook friends with your romantic interest, you have to wonder what they are hiding. I once busted a guy seeing another chick behind my back around V-day. I saw that this chick was leaving comments on his page constantly. I clicked on her profile, which she left as public, and saw that he was making a date with her:

“Are we doing Valentine’s day together, hun?” commented the male two timer.

From there, I knew what to do - drop him like a bad habit. So, I did what any girl would do, I deleted his number and defriended him on Facebook. It’s really that easy, delete, delete and bye-bye Mister Bastard!

And then, there’s the fun relationship status options on FB. I love the ‘it’s complicated’ one. Really? When are relationships not complicated? Do we really want our virtual friends to know? How about the option of letting everyone know who you are in a relationship with? Is this called showing off your partner or just plain marking the territory, step off my honey pie?

I don’t get it. I really don’t.

“Accept his friend request, I want to see his profile, girl!” said my girlfriend over coffee.

Thanks to my iPhone, I was able to instantly ‘befriend’ my new ‘friend.’

“He better call me, though,” I said looking up from my phone, “I’m not going to remain virtual friends and never meet in person sort of thing like half of the other dudes on my page.”

“I know right! I can’t stand it when all they want to do is chat online.”

“Yeah, we’ll see how virtual or real this one gets.”

“Dude, not again. I tell you, NOT again!” I blurted as I clenched my teeth.

“What? What happened?” asked my girl friend as she packed up the car. We were headed to the beach for a swim.

“It’s that guy calling from the other night. What’s his freakin’ deal? I told him I’m not interested!” I looked down at the phone and pressed the ignore button.

“Who?” she gasped.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you. I went out Saturday night on a date with this guy I met at Sam’s party and you wouldn’t believe what he asked me!”

“To see your tits?”

“No, not that. Worse.”

“To see your…”

“No, dirty girl. He asked me if I wanted to move in with him at the end of the date.”

“Uh, was he joking?”

“I thought so but he called the next day and asked, ‘Andrea, do you want me to take off work tomorrow?’ and then I asked him why and his response was, ‘So, I can help you move your stuff in.’”

“Who says that?”

“No one does! Can you believe this guy? I thought only chicks try to move in too soon. But it gets worse. He called last night drunk or something, saying that he wanted to take a taxi to come see me but he was in South Beach, that’s a 50 dollar ride. I told him not to bother then he said some crap about how he wanted to get married and wants me to bare his children. WTF?!”

“Hahahha! What did you do to this guy?”

“Nothing. I only went out with him once!”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I don’t get it. Then he sent me some angry text messages saying that I led him on and deceived him. Followed by another text asking if I wanted to hang out over the weekend.”
“Weird. What did you say?”
“That I wasn’t interested. Then he asked if we could stay friends and to still consider moving in with him.”
“What does he need help paying his rent? Or is he just insane?”

“Who knows. Probably, insane.”
“Red flag alert! What’s with you always attracting weird guys?”

“I don’t know,” I said. I really don’t have a clue but I wonder what motivated this almost complete stranger to want to jump into a living situation with another stranger let alone get married. The guy knows nothing about me except that I use my fork with my left hand and the tidbits of information I shared with him on the first date.

Here I am, perplexed and dodging phone calls from him while he’s leaving voice messages asking me about the state of ‘our relationship.’ What relationship? The relationship I’m not interested in having? Oh yeah, that one. Hopefully, he got the message or I’m going to have to call the Wackadoo police to have him locked up.