Tatiana Talks

The Stride of Pride

That right kids, your occasional blogger finally got some.

I won’t go into the gory details. You just need to know I went out with unshaven legs so of course I met a cute guy who wanted to come back to my place.
The hot dress I was wearing (with tights to hide the leg stubble) and the many Miller Lites I drank may have also contributed to the inevitably of the situation I found myself in.

Oh, and, mom, if you are still reading this: Stop. Don’t torture yourself. I don’t redeem myself.

As predicted, the following day I carried around with me a mixed bag of guilt and shame, in addition to feeling bloated and dehydrated. In an effort to alleviate these, I emailed and sent text messages to my friends, letting them know their friend was a dirty stay-out who actually didn’t stay out, but instead, had to hurry home that evening to clean the boy off of her apartment.

And because they are my friends and were probably starting to worry about how long it had been, they were equal parts thrilled and assuring that there was no reason to stitch red letters onto all my sweaters. They asked all the standard questions about his looks and performance and the awkwardness level reached the next morning and one that caused me to pause.

All my girlfriends (with one exception) asked me if I had plans to see him again.

I laughed and reminded them it wouldn’t be called a one-night stand if they lasted more than one night and that I was sure to see him again and again (if my random hook-up history repeated itself) but we wouldn’t actually talk. Instead we would avoid eye contact and pretend we didn’t recognize each other with clothes on.

Still, their optimism prevailed and they followed up days later to see if I had heard from him.

Of course I hadn’t.

Their follow-up? Well, why don’t you reach out to him?

How’s that?

Beyond all my typical protests that would prevent me from ever doing that I had to ask why I would?

“Because he meets all your prerequisites for dating someone.”

Very true. He does. And had I not slept with him after knowing him for only a few hours (Mom, seriously? I tried to tell you) I suppose there is a slim chance he could have filled the empty number five spot.

But I did sleep with him. I was one of those girls. I opted for immediate gratification over giving him my number and crossing my fingers he would call. A single girl who wanted to get some, saw her opportunity and took it, knowing by doing so she would drastically reduce her chance of seeing this gentleman again.

And yes, there are those out there that will call me a slut (none of my friends, I mean people like Steve Harvey and Dr. Phil) and tell me this is precisely the behavior that keeps me single. In turn, I suppose I could blame it on the alcohol or say it wasn’t me, it was the dress.

However, I prefer to think that because I'm single and am not looking to change that, this is exactly the way I should be behaving.

Two Birds, One Stone

Didn’t I tell you all I would solve the matter of yummy?

Okay, so I didn’t solve it. Cricket did. But it is solved. And the best part, it also plays into my desire to travel more.

The answer is vacation yummy.

I will give you all a moment to slap your foreheads, mutter of course, and then shake your heads while you wonder why it took us all so long to think of it.

Now everyone on the count of three, let’s say “Thank you, Cricket.”

I can’t believe it was just sitting there the whole time. Such an obvious solution. I mean, every women’s magazine has written on the phenomenon that is the holiday hook-up. Discussing how, when you are away, your inhibitions are lowered, and you find it easier to meet and flirt. Of course the magazine then offer tips on how to harness that power to find something more meaningful, but I say – eff that. I am going to use this super power to get some. And then I am going to get on a plane and never think about the guy again.

Now the only question that remains is where to first?

The Matter of Yummy

I realized early on in my single for life adventure that there was a flaw in my system.

The flaw, as some of you may have already guessed, is what to do about sex.

Now, for some, this isn’t a flaw at all. Unfortunately, for me (and maybe others of you out there) I don’t have an eff buddy (nor have I had much luck with them in the past) nor do I have a friend with special benefits (this, too, in the past has proven to be a special kind of disaster). And while I know, thanks to one of my guy friends, that getting a stranger to have sex with me is as easy as walking into a bar and just saying, “Yes.” I’ve never been super comfortable with one night stands. Yes, I have enjoyed my share, but the self inflicted guilt and shame I experienced the next morning (which has increased over the years) diminished any enjoyment I remember from the evening prior.

So, what does a girl like me do for a little something-something? This is the exact question that my dear friend Cricket and I were contemplating over a pitcher or tequila. Because the whole thing has be recently fantasizing about a relationship. A relationship I don’t want anywhere else but the bedroom.
Cricket is still on the fence about the whole single for life thing for herself, but she fully embraces it for me. She too, is just concerned about my lack of yummy, especially as it concerns my inability to carry on a conversation with Hot Attorney, but more on that later.

The first obvious solution was that I get involved with a professional baseball player.  And while I am still working this angle, I figured it would make sense to explore other options as well. Especially for those of you out there that don’t live in a city with a professional baseball team.

Another option that came to us after our third round was getting involved with a married man. Forgetting for a moment the moral objections one might have with this arrangement, for someone like me, this could work. However, I really try to keep my life as drama free as humanly possible and sleeping with another woman’s husband is just inviting crazy into my apartment.

Still, a married man wouldn’t likely develop feelings for me. The boundaries of our relationship would be very clear, dictated by the fact that he has a wife he shares his feelings with. I would just be someone he shared his bed with. And really, isn’t that what brings so many of these friends with benefits relationships crashing to a halt. Often, one of the partners confuses sex (or the hormonal release post orgasm) with love. For my part, I can control how I feel (and even when I can’t, I can get out before I get too hurt). But what about him? What happens if its his line that starts blurring? I like hurting people even less than I like drama in my living room (unless it is Law & Order).

Ideally, what I am looking for is someone I find attractive, but could never actually be attracted to. So he would have to be less than smart and/or less than funny and/or a Dallas Cowboys fan. He would also need to find me attractive without being attracted to me. Maybe there is an expiration date (he is only in Philadelphia for school or a work assignment) or perhaps he has a rule about falling in love with someone who worships Peyton Manning.

So Cricket suggested I try meditating before bed, focusing on exactly what I am looking for and then asking the universe to bring him to me. We then agreed this seems a lot like masturbation, so I decided I would also put this out in this universe and see if you guys could bring me a solution.

But know this, other spinsters, I am working on the problem. And when I find an answer that works for all of us, I will share it with you.