<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402</id><updated>2012-01-31T00:20:03.836-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Life of a Bachelorette...</title><subtitle type='html'>*All names have been changed for anonymity.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>60</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-8172184573043984000</id><published>2011-01-01T15:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-01T15:48:58.564-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome to the New Year...</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt; 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He actually asked me to come over to his place and “watch a movie”… right… I’m not even entirely sure if he’s a sociopath or not, so I’m really not going to just go over to his house never to be heard from again (I feel like I may be too suspicious from watching too many crime dramas, but really they’re based on true stories). So instead we set aside an actual day to go on a date and the day of the date finally rolls around and by 6pm I have yet to hear from him. Finally at 9:45 at night he calls me and the phone conversation went a bit like this;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Me: Hello?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Him: Hey… did you forget we were supposed to go out tonight?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Me: No. Did you?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Him: Yes. We’re terrible at following through on plans. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Me: mmhhhmm. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Him: What are you doing? I’m just waiting for some of my friends outside of a bar, you should come down. (yes because I love a date when other people are on it) &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Me: I’ll pass. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And then he tried to do damage control for the rest of the conversation while I gave him one word responses to work with. He could obviously tell how unimpressed I was. He was traveling for the holidays and so am I so he said he would call me when he got back and we could reschedule. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The thing is I’m pretty sure he thinks he can get away with acting like this because he is so attractive, and more power to him for taking advantage of his good looks, but I’m not going to be playing his game. He really did pick the wrong girl if he thinks he can put in no effort and I'll stick around. I've been there and done that and am much more wise now. I'd hate to have to teach him a lesson if he keeps playing this game, but it really would make for great blog material and it's been so long since I've toyed with someone.  &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And then sometimes the universe sends out a sign because as I type this I just got a text message on my phone from Fire Engine Red wishing me a Happy New Year. It’s like his ears were burning. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Either way, this is nothing that I’m stressing about. I’m currently “on vacation” in a very cold place that’s bountiful with shopping and very attractive men. Care to play “Where in Canada is Becca?” &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Tonight I’m going to a hockey game and when I think hockey I think hot men in pea coats at intermission in the Club House! Wish me and my flirting abilities luck! &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I’ll update very soon! I promise! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-8172184573043984000?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/8172184573043984000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2011/01/welcome-to-new-year.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/8172184573043984000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/8172184573043984000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2011/01/welcome-to-new-year.html' title='Welcome to the New Year...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-5037247734642250543</id><published>2010-12-17T04:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-31T00:17:41.232-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Up in here...</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt; 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 mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;  mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;  mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;  mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";  mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;  mso-fareast-language:EN-US;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I bet you’ve wondered where I’ve been - well sometimes I go on hiatus; like good tv shows I need to take some time off to regroup and tweak the storyline. But I will recap what’s gone down in the last month and a bit!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;First off let’s start with Cheap Thrill… oh god… this is going to be painful. Ok well I could tell he was getting attached to me and it was not what I wanted; you all know I don’t want anything serious. Turns out Cheap Thrill is realllllly emotional… yeah... So I basically stopped spending time with him so he would move on and nothing would have to be awkward between us. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Turns out he didn’t like that too much and sent me a facebook message that said (I’m going to try not to laugh as I type this); “My emotions have ended our friendship. Shallow as a dirt puddle in the middle of summer you are.” &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Ok, well first of all, I can’t take anyone that writes like Yoda seriously. Second of all I gave him more than fair warning about my intentions, turns out he doesn’t listen so well. Third – I know I’m shallow, I believe I even started a blog post by saying I’m superficial – this isn’t news. So what happened after I got that message well I wrote back “seriously?”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Then we had a phone conversation that went back and forth with him saying I’ve ended our friendship and me saying I haven’t ended anything and I never said that we’re not friends. Then he asked me to come over to his place to talk and I said no, and then he said “whatever I’m over it” and then he hung up. So safe to say if I run into him on the street it will be very awkward, but no sleep lost over this. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;In other news I got a job blogging about men and dating for an amazing company! I couldn’t feel more blessed if I tried. The Gods of Fashion and Shoes have been working overtime for me! &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I have a date next week with Fire Engine Red (whom you may remember from the summer), we lost touch at the end of summer but he was making a great effort to see me lately so I’ve decided to see where things go. It really helps his case that he’s ridiculously good looking (I hope that wasn’t shallow). &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Anyway, I love you all and I hope you’ve missed me as much as I’ve missed all of you!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-5037247734642250543?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/5037247734642250543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/12/up-in-here.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/5037247734642250543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/5037247734642250543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/12/up-in-here.html' title='Up in here...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-5482890602519001183</id><published>2010-10-24T07:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-24T07:24:42.324-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Gods of Fashion and Shoes sure seem to have a funny sense of humour...</title><content type='html'>The past two days were filled with a lecture on my choice in men, possibly real feelings for Cheap Thrill, a guest appearance from an old flame and general overall confusion. It was not a good weekend to be my friend because their phones were going off every five minutes with calls and text messages from me. I know the Gods of Fashion and Shoes are testing me, I just really hope this isn’t the midterm, because if it is, I don’t want to know what the Final would be like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hadn’t seen my friend Dylan in a while but he had been keeping up on my love life through his girlfriend and my close friend Valerie. He decided to have a talk with me on Friday night. This came shortly after a stunt Cheap Thrill pulled earlier that evening.&lt;br /&gt;I’ve known Dylan for years, and he’s watched the men I date come and go and sometimes come back again. He’s noticed the obvious, which all of you have probably noticed as well; I pick the bad boys, the assholes, the sociopaths and the pathological liars. He started telling me how great I was and how ridiculous these guys are for treating me badly.&lt;br /&gt;I think my favourite part of the conversation was when he brought up Cheap Thrill though he said;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; “You know, you’re great. I don’t understand these guys. If I was Cheap Thrill I would... I would... well I would probably be playing the field because he is really good looking and can do that kind of thing. But other than that I would definitely be trying to date you.”&lt;/span&gt; It was a classic moment.&lt;br /&gt;I know these guys aren’t the kind you bring home to mom (Hi mom!), but we all know my issues with nice normal guys and the visions of white picket fences that flood my brain when I’m around them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, onto Cheap Thrill; I don’t even know where to begin, probably with the fact that I think, but refuse to admit that I may possibly be getting real feelings for Cheap Thrill. It’s to the point where I want to share things with him, like when I got an ‘A’ on my midterm; I texted him to tell him.&lt;br /&gt;We’ve been talking a lot and he’s been telling me about deep personal stuff; however Jake would tell me a lot of personal stuff and that meant zilch when everything was said and done with him.&lt;br /&gt;I know I can’t use Jake as a measure on what other guys motives are because not every guy is a sociopath, but 1 in 25 actually are... how do you like that statistic?&lt;br /&gt;He’s still flaky and unreliable and I have my expectations set very low for him, but lately with a minor exception of not following through on a plan, he’s actually been great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided to go to Starbucks on Saturday afternoon and read a book in an attempt to keep my mind off of Cheap Thrill. I just couldn't get him off of my mind, that is until I looked up from my book and looked at the line up at the counter.&lt;br /&gt;I couldn’t see his face, but I didn’t need to, I saw his hair and I instantly knew it was him... it was Jake. He has perfect timing, he just likes to pop back in just when things are going well. I stared at my book, and tried to ignore the fact that my stomach was in knots and my heart was going a million miles an hour. My hands were shaking and I tried to hold my book steady.&lt;br /&gt;Even after everything, even after all I know, just seeing Jake could apparently still send me over the moon. I knew he was staring at me but I was keeping steady eye contact with my book, finally he just walked up to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked up and greeted him like I hadn’t noticed he was at the counter before. He looked great, really great. He sat down across from me while he waited for his drink and we caught up. I talked about my writing and directed him to where he could find the column that I write for my school paper... after he left I realized the last column I had turn in was about him. I’m not that concerned, because really, the worst he could think is that I’m crazy and I’m pretty sure that ship sailed a long time ago (and I mean I’ve been calling him a sociopath for the last 9 months on here so...).&lt;br /&gt;I was rattled though and no longer was thinking about Cheap Thrill, the only person I could think about now Jake. I kept replaying the whole thing over and over in my head. I even went and got a Zen tea to try to mellow out. It was no use and there was no way I could focus on my book anymore.&lt;br /&gt;The problem is that every time I’m sure I really like someone just as much as I liked Jake he seems to pop up like a Jake-in-the-box to remind me just how strongly I felt about him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t know where anything is going to go right now, I feel like I’m in a soap opera. Don’t get me wrong, I love it; I just wish I could get a preview of what’s to come of the next episode so that I could relax a little. But I promise, as soon as I know where things are going, you’ll know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-5482890602519001183?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/5482890602519001183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/10/gods-of-fashion-and-shoes-sure-seem-to.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/5482890602519001183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/5482890602519001183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/10/gods-of-fashion-and-shoes-sure-seem-to.html' title='The Gods of Fashion and Shoes sure seem to have a funny sense of humour...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-8338722234829840950</id><published>2010-10-19T04:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-19T04:26:34.764-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I like stilettos because they literally always keep you on your toes...</title><content type='html'>First off, I feel very bad for Normal Guy because he seems to like me. Now, there’s nothing wrong with liking me, but there’s something wrong with liking me and also liking long term relationships, which he does because he told me. Poor Normal Guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We get along quite well, but I’m not sure I can get past the visions of white picket fences in my head when I look at him. He caught me off guard and had me go for coffee with him recently, and it was good. But I couldn’t help thinking &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;‘am I talking too much?’&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;‘does he even care about this topic?’&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;‘does this shade of red nail polish make me look too trashy?’&lt;/span&gt; (the answer to that last one is no, it was just trashy enough). I don’t like to have to think about that stuff when I’m talking to someone. I really just like to be able listen to my own voice, but that’s a totally different issue in itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Normal Guy is just so safe; he’s like a pair of sensible black flats. I mean, I like to keep them around, but they’re never my first choice in shoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something surprising did happen though, after my coffee with Normal Guy, I went and met Cheap Thrill for a coffee (I really like coffee). The surprising thing was that I actually had a really good conversation with Cheap Thrill. We talked about a lot of stuff; an hour and a half worth of stuff actually.&lt;br /&gt;In the last 9 months writing about Cheap Thrill, it was obvious that I was never really interested in knowing him as a person. He was perfectly good as the arrogant cheap thrill role that he played. But now I do know him as a person, and I have to say, he’s become humanized to me.  He actually has feelings - who knew? And what’s more I actually like him as a person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, Cheap Thrill is like my new pair of Steve Madden 5” gold glitter stilettos – they look great, and you feel like you could wear them all the time – but after a really short time period they end up hurting you like hell. That’s actually the time when it’s best to have a pair of black flats in your purse to change into. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not to worry, there is no shortage of shoes happening in my life... but I do need to figure out what to do (if anything) with the two pairs I have out right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-8338722234829840950?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/8338722234829840950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-like-stilettos-because-they-literally.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/8338722234829840950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/8338722234829840950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-like-stilettos-because-they-literally.html' title='I like stilettos because they literally always keep you on your toes...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-927672296210458584</id><published>2010-10-09T22:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-09T23:54:33.209-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Thanksgiving Thank You... To You...</title><content type='html'>I am continually humbled by the number of page hits our little blog gets!&lt;br /&gt;When I started writing this I didn't expect anyone to be interested in reading it. But for the last 9 months you've all followed my sometimes boring, sometimes overly eventful life as a bachelorette.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I often refer to this as "our blog" because it is, you are all there with me when a cheap thrill screws up or when an ex gets married. You are also the ones who have made the blog so popular by telling your friends about it! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And an extra big thank you to my friends and family who are so beyond supportive. Although now before telling me a story will say; "don't write this in your blog, I'm serious, don't." and I definitely try not to. &lt;br /&gt;And we can't forget to thank all the men who continually do their best to inspire blog material. I even had one of them say "what's your blog address, I've been told it's really good, I want to read it". ha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So again a thank you because I couldn't do it without all of you, and a special thank you to our American and Australian readers - I get to tell people that we're internationally read, that's huge!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**I'm also thankful for Madonna, Shoes, Fashion, Glitter and Fur Coats - most especially when they are all combined into the same moment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All my love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Becca&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;beccathebachelorette@gmail.com&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-927672296210458584?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/927672296210458584/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/10/thank-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/927672296210458584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/927672296210458584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/10/thank-you.html' title='My Thanksgiving Thank You... To You...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-3850150874398557936</id><published>2010-10-08T04:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-08T04:09:58.539-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I could fight, but I really seem to like to flight...</title><content type='html'>I don’t always end things with guys well. I don’t mean the guys that I date for a while, I mean the guys that I’ve gone on one or two dates with and I wasn’t feeling it. I really dislike telling someone that I don’t like their personality, I feel like it might hurt their feelings, moreover, I just don’t like feeling awkward and that’s an awkward conversation.  I feel like in all likelihood I’m never going to have to see them again, so why ruin my day with that phone call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is one problem I have though and it’s when I’m caught off guard and my “fight or flight” response kicks in... I “flight”. One night I was walking down an empty neighbourhood street with a male friend of mine when a cat jumped out of the bushes... I pushed him at it and ran backward. I don’t think about my responses, they just happen, especially when I’m caught off guard and it’s someone I don’t want to see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had gone on a few dates with a guy and the dates were really fun, and he was very nice, but I was seeing someone else at the time that I liked more. So I just stopped answering his calls, and he left voicemails questioning why I wasn’t calling him back. Eventually they stopped and I forgot all about him, until 3 months later when I walked into a Starbucks. I had walked in through the door as someone else was leaving and there he was standing at the counter not 6ft away, directly in front of me. I didn’t have time to think I just knew I didn’t want to be there and my “fight or flight” kicked in. So I flit, I turned around to get out of there as fast as I could and... I walked face first right into the now closed door that was behind me. The good news was it didn’t turn out to be the guy I went on dates with, the bad news was I had to switch Starbucks because everyone there thought I was manic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was another time that I was in a grocery store shopping and I saw a guy that I had brushed off, the last thing that I wanted to do was get into a conversation with him. Without thinking I turned around as fast as I could and walked right into a gift card display that had been hanging at the end of an aisle. I knocked it to the ground and gift cards went flying everywhere, literally they were everywhere. I was in hell, as I was on the ground in my heels and skirt trying to shuffle them together I swear I could hear the guy laughing at the other end of the aisle, but I used whatever dignity I had left and didn’t look to check.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t know why I always flight when I could just as easily fight. I suppose it’s because I look at my shoes as being my children, and if I’m in a situation, I just need to make sure that they get out of harm’s way. It must be my maternal instinct kicking in. Whatever the reason, I’ve resigned myself to the fact that there will be many more incidents like this in the future, I mean, I still have years of dating ahead of me...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-3850150874398557936?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/3850150874398557936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-could-fight-but-i-really-seem-to-like.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/3850150874398557936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/3850150874398557936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-could-fight-but-i-really-seem-to-like.html' title='I could fight, but I really seem to like to flight...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-3930427351348669295</id><published>2010-10-06T03:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-06T04:23:11.212-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Someone old and someone new...</title><content type='html'>Ok, so I’m a little superficial... I know you’re shocked. But it’s true, that’s what happens when you worship the Church of Madonna and pray to the Gods of Fashion and Shoes. So what’s a girl to do when she has to decide between a life she knows and loves and well... what everyone else has...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met a guy and he’s normal, like really normal. There’s nothing eccentric about him, he’s funny, nice, smart, cute and normal. I’m just not sure that I could actually date him because he is so normal, the worst part is that I do kind of like him. He’s sort of like the guy next door, but I’m really the farthest thing from the girl next door. I’m kind of like the kid they kept locked in the attic too long and she turned a little loopy.&lt;br /&gt;I feel like the playing field between us is just so uneven that I couldn’t play games with. He isn’t the type that would want to go a few rounds of “who’s the better manipulator?” with me.  I think the biggest problem is that when a guy is straight up boyfriend material he makes for terrible blog material.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m not sure what to do about Normal Guy, I really do like him, but I really hate the idea of white picket fences, 2 dogs and a cat. Especially because animals and I don’t get along, they don’t like me because they know I like to wear fur coats. It’s a Cruella Deville thing, all she ever wanted to do was be on the cutting edge of fashion, and she's painted as the bad person. It’s like 101 Dalmatians was produced by PETA or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the topic of superficial blog material I’ve talked to and seen a fair amount of Cheap Thrill in the past few weeks, yes &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a href="http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/04/hope-you-dont-hate-me-i-have-been-kinda.html"&gt;Cheap Thrill&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;I’ve missed his outlandish cockiness, it entertains me. In an effort to get me to agree to see him a few weeks ago he reminded me that he has only 6% body fat - that didn’t so much make me want to see him as much as it made me want to go to the gym.  But I ran into him on Sunday and had a quick coffee with him today, and in the midst of the midterm hell I’m in he actually had me laughing. Real laughing too, not just the laugh I do to humour people most of the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who knows where things will go with Normal Guy, but for now let’s welcome back Cheap Thrill with open arms and guarded optimism, because after all he is first and foremost here for the cheap thrills.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-3930427351348669295?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/3930427351348669295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/10/someone-old-and-someone-new.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/3930427351348669295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/3930427351348669295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/10/someone-old-and-someone-new.html' title='Someone old and someone new...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-737332541591732245</id><published>2010-10-03T06:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-03T06:26:53.208-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To be a Good-time Girl...</title><content type='html'>For my friends that know me there is one thing that they all know very well – I attract married men, engaged men and men involved in a long-term relationship without even trying. For some reason, they seem to love me, literally like I have writing on my forehead that only they can see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister told me it’s because I’m a “good-time girl” I tried to ignore the fact that she had just used a 1950’s word for slut. To be completely fair she went on to elaborate that it’s because I’m a fun girl, and I have an outgoing personality. My boss once told me it’s because I’m always happy and carefree and it’s the opposite of the responsibility they have at home.&lt;br /&gt;I have a tendency to treat everyone the same regardless if they are men or women, so when I’m laughing and joking with a woman, it’s just laughing and joking. But somehow when I’m laughing and joking with a man, it translates into flirting and double meanings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing is, if I don’t want a boyfriend or husband of my own, why the hell would I want someone else’s? This isn’t New York, and I’m not a Mistress. And every time an affair is found out it’s the women that get called out for their poor morals – ohhh k... if the woman is single it is her prerogative to do what she pleases, she is free of responsibility, she has made vows to no one. Yet they are the ones who get ridiculed and called names well men get the “boys will be boys” card.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve received flowers and phone calls to my office, text messages upon text messages and as recent as last night propositional emails from men that are taken by other woman.&lt;br /&gt;When I was 18 and worked as a cashier at a grocery store a regular customer would come through my till wearing his wedding ring and would continually ask me to have dinner with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve gotten so used to it that it doesn’t even faze me anymore. I laugh and move on, although I did learn the more you turn down a taken man, the more they seem to pursue you... that is until you bring up their significant other... that seems to deter them slightly. I don’t judge the guys because I have no idea what arrangement they’ve made at home about what their allowed to do. But I do know I never want an angry wife or girlfriend tracking me down because they think it’s my fault their significant other has a wandering eye. I’m just the girl it happened to wander to, that’s all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-737332541591732245?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/737332541591732245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/10/to-be-good-time-girl.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/737332541591732245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/737332541591732245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/10/to-be-good-time-girl.html' title='To be a Good-time Girl...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-1827568650700252611</id><published>2010-09-13T23:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-14T00:06:47.560-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Opportunities that arise to meet men are the Fashion Gods showing you they care...</title><content type='html'>I love dating, and one of my favourite parts of the dating game is finding the new men to date. I’ve never really understood women who say they don’t know where to find men, they are literally everywhere. Sometimes if a girl is lucky she’ll have help singling out the successful guys in a crowd. For example; I was on the ferry home one night, minding my own business in the child-free lounge when a voice came over the speakers - &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;“If there is a doctor on board could they please come to the Captain’s Office immediately.” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I know what you’re probably thinking – someone must have had a heart attack, or a child is very sick etc. Yes normal people think that way, but I’m an opportunist and if the ferry staff is nice enough to have all the doctors on board converge in one area, then the thought that comes to my mind is that it’s only right if I go to check and see if there is a cute, young, single doctor that shows up.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Very recently I was getting ready mid-morning and listening to the radio when they announced that lawyers would be giving out free legal advice in the City Square all day as part of some fundraiser/awareness thing they were doing. Again being an opportunist I saw this as a prime chance to see if there maybe was a young, cute, single lawyer volunteering at the event. So I threw on my trench coat and a pair of black stilettos and walked the few short blocks from my apartment to the City Square to see if it was worth my time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And there he was – a cute, young lawyer. He was tall and fairly well built with light brown hair and great jaw line, now all I had to do was find out if he was single. Each lawyer had their own tent and it suddenly hit me... I had no problem that I needed legal advice for, but it was too late, I was already walking towards his tent and had made eye contact with him. Oh god, think...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;“Hi, I’m Ryan.”&lt;/span&gt; He said, finishing his introduction with a perfect smile&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;“Becca”&lt;/span&gt; I said, extending my arm to shake his hand&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;“So what can I help you with today, Becca?” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;“Um... well...I was thinking about making a will... you know, just in case. I would just hate to see my shoes and dresses go to someone who wouldn’t appreciate them... Do you think I need a lawyer or can I just use one of those kits they sell at Staples?”  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It really did sound worse out loud than it did in my head. The look on his face showed some sign of amusement though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;“Well I suppose it never hurts to plan, but you are quite young to be worrying about something like this”&lt;/span&gt; he replied, then he followed that with a lot of legal talk that I nodded along to as if I was paying deep attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once he finished giving me my legal advice I asked him about his law school and what he did for fun since he must be so busy with work all the time. After about ten minutes and my casual mention of being single he asked if I would want to go for drinks sometime. My answer was, of course, yes. Mission accomplished. The opportunities to meet new men are everywhere; you just have to be open to the possibilities and approach with no fear. Because really, what’s the worst that could happen?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-1827568650700252611?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/1827568650700252611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/09/opportunities-that-arise-to-meet-men.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/1827568650700252611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/1827568650700252611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/09/opportunities-that-arise-to-meet-men.html' title='Opportunities that arise to meet men are the Fashion Gods showing you they care...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-5985649201272890667</id><published>2010-08-31T18:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-31T18:55:05.832-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fashion and Finance, what a wonderful world...</title><content type='html'>I was contemplating what to write about when an event I read about a couple of years ago popped into my head. The event was being held in New York and it was called “Fashion meets Finance” the event was meant to hook up single guys in the finance world with single women in the fashion world. But in only the way New York can pull off straight up superficial attitude mixed with elitism, all the while making it seem classy, there was of course a catch to the event. No one was able to just purchase a ticket to attend the event, quite the opposite in fact, you had to be invited. Men and women who wanted to attend were asked to submit their picture, name, occupation and salary range. Easy right? No harm in applying to see if you get an invite right? Wrong. Every person who applied had their picture and info (including salary range) posted on the event’s website and whether or not they had been invited or declined.  God bless New York. (I actually spent a good amount of time going though the applicants info and learned 2 things – Fashion really doesn’t pay all that well, and men that work in Finance in NY are ridiculously good looking.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With my goal one day to work for a Fashion Magazine in New York, I can really see the appeal of dating a man that works in Finance. First off, I love fashion. Some people look at a painting and instantly make a connection with it. They see the beauty in the brush strokes, in the use of colours. Well I’m that way with dresses, and blazers, and skirts and heels and boots and accessories and fur... oh my god, do I love fur. But see the difference between someone that loves paintings and someone that loves fashion is that around every corner there isn’t an art gallery to tempt you and don’t even get me started on sample sale websites (they are a gift and a curse at the same time). When I see a beautiful designer dress I feel a pang inside, I need it and it needs a good home, I have to buy it. This is where dating a man that works in finance comes in because they know how to budget! They would be able to look at exactly how much I can spend on shopping while still having enough money to go out and show off my shopping achievements.  A man in finance would most probably also be saving his money to put a down payment on a summer house etc. which in turn makes him even more appealing. Men in Finance also seem to make a hell of a lot more than women in Fashion, so just think of the benefits of a joint bank account when you get married!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yes, the two worlds of Fashion and Finance seem to fit perfectly together, and would even create a new shopping opportunity of men’s suits, cuff links, polo shirts and argyle sweaters to buy as gifts for your man. The people who ran that event in New York knew what they were doing, just another reason it’s one of the greatest cities in the world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-5985649201272890667?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/5985649201272890667/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/08/fashion-and-finance-what-wonderful.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/5985649201272890667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/5985649201272890667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/08/fashion-and-finance-what-wonderful.html' title='Fashion and Finance, what a wonderful world...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-7388696083607063445</id><published>2010-08-24T05:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-24T05:58:43.905-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What did people do before internet stalking?...</title><content type='html'>My name is Becca, and I’m a facebook addict...  and I know I’m not the only one. As addictive as facebook is, it does come in very useful when you’re starting to date someone you don’t know. A person’s profile page is usually a pretty good indicator of what that person is really like. For example, when I started dating a very nice guy last year and looked up his page, I couldn’t help but notice all of his pictures were of him and various trash-tastic girls. Most of the girls I recognized, not because I knew them, but because I knew of them and their infamous stories. So 1 – he’s probably a lot like the girls he hangs out with, and 2 – he does a very poor job of masking the fact that he has an affinity for girls with fake tans and fake chests.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When used correctly, facebook is amazing. But when you’re single, the people you add as friends and the pictures you choose to be tagged in can make you or break you. As a general rule, I don’t add guys I’m dating as friends, if they find me, I’ll usually put them on limited profile. This is because for status updates I write whatever pops into my head, such as “I’ll know I’ve grown up when I wake up and smell like wine instead of tequila” and “Even if I got a yellow car and painted it red, I would still know it was originally yellow. It’s like dating a post-op transsexual.”  - That is a level of crazy reserved for my friends, someone I’ve just started dating may not understand my particular sense of humour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, sometimes it’s useful if a guy can see my status update. I was dating a guy last summer and he added me to facebook. He wasn’t putting as much effort into wooing me as he should have been so I made my status “Becca had the most beautiful flowers delivered to her office today!!” then I told a few friends to comment, so they wrote “he is so sweet!” and “he’s definitely a keeper!”.  Now obviously there were no flowers, but as soon as this guy thought I was dating someone else that’s sending me flowers, he stepped his game up tenfold. Manipulation? Possibly... but rather than telling him he needed to try harder, I let him think he was figuring it out on his own. It’s a win/win!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This blog topic came up because I spent a good amount of time looking up “Fire Engine Red” guy (who btw phoned me while on vacation to tell me he was thinking of me... usually I would think that’s a little intense, but he’s really good looking, so I’m going to let it slide) anyway, I found him, but his privacy settings wouldn’t let me see the interesting things like pictures. All in good time, I’m sure. He’s still gone another 2 weeks, which actually works out perfectly, because in 2 weeks “Summer Fun Pink” guy is moving away for a few months. It’s like the God of Fashion and Shoes is rewarding me for all my hard shopping with amazing scheduling. And I love him for it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;**This post is dedicated to my wonderful Fashion and English language loving friend who left me to go kickass in Bono’s hometown. Safe to say she was like a pseudo-therapist for me when it came to all issues, but especially concerning guys. Thank god for Skype!**  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-7388696083607063445?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/7388696083607063445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/08/what-did-people-do-before-internet.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/7388696083607063445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/7388696083607063445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/08/what-did-people-do-before-internet.html' title='What did people do before internet stalking?...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-5212302369038542992</id><published>2010-08-11T00:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-11T01:12:00.626-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm just not a "neutral beige" type of girl...</title><content type='html'>Ok, so here’s the deal – it takes me about 10 minutes to decide what colour I’m going to paint my nails. Nail polish lasts for a week, and sometimes after I put it on, I change my mind, take it off and start again. So, when the universe suddenly gives me a plethora of guys, it’s very hard for me to know who to choose. There are 3 main guys, and in nail polish terms – I have a “fire engine red”, “neutral beige” and a “summer fun pink”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far the “fire engine red” is my favourite. The way we met is actually really funny – I was out with a friend and I saw a guy who used to play on Nick’s soccer team. I haven’t seen any of those guys in over a year, but he was staring at me pretty intently. He ended up walking over to talk to me and was with a drop dead gorgeous man. He said he wanted to introduce me to his friend because we’re both Macedonian (look up Macedonia on a map, it really does exist). Turns out, not only does this gorgeous man have the same heritage as me, he also grew up 10 minutes away from where I did. We ended up talking for 3 hours that night and called me the next day. I saw him again this past weekend and his sad news for me was that he was going away for 3 weeks. I’m looking at this as a positive, because this way I can enjoy the rest of my summer, and he’ll come back right when things start to quiet down for fall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My “summer fun pink” guy is just that. He’s a summer boy. He’s the type of guy you chill with in the summer, and it’s always really fun, but that’s all he’s going to be. I went out for lunch with him and a girlfriend of mine the other day. We started talking about dating, and usually I censor myself, but for some reason I wanted to mess with his mind a bit. Bless his heart, by the end of lunch the look on his face looked like I verbally bitch slapped him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, “neutral beige” – oh god, where do I start. He’s very sweet, actually far too sweet. He is looking for a girlfriend, and I told him not to date me, I gave him fair warning but he must like pain. It started because he has a boat, and I really liked the idea of me on a boat in the summer. The boat date was fine, a little long, and at a point when we were going back to the marina I remember thinking “I bet I could swim faster”, but it was ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the date I told him for some reason this summer I’ve been craving hotdogs, and purposely going places just because I know that there will be hotdogs at the event (I wish I was kidding). Anyway a few days later, he asks me if I want to go play mini-put and grab a hotdog. Obviously I said yes, so the next day he picks me up at noon to go play.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While we’re driving there he brings up some play that he’s heard is really good, and asks me if I would want to go see it. I say yes, thinking I’ll get out of it later when he brings it up again. But to my surprise he drives right to the theatre, goes in and buys tickets for 8pm that night (I actually had other plans, but at this point had no idea what to say). So we play mini-put and he thinks it’s cute to give me a lower score than what I actually put. I would put 6 and he would say “we’ll give you a 3 for that one; oh look we’re tied now”. Honestly I don’t need my ego stroked in mini-put; I’m alright with being awful. He did this at every hole and by the 10th hole I was about to hit him over the head with the club. I refrained though because I didn’t think I could hit him hard enough to knock him out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after that he ordered my hotdog for me, except he got me a genetically mutated one that had cheese inside of it. As I sat there trying to eat, I suddenly realized he probably wanted to hang out all day. I asked him what his plan was. He said he wanted to take me to the butterfly gardens. It’s like he was trying to piss me off. I told him I had only planned for mini-put and had other things to do and asked him to take me home. So he drops me off at 2 and tells me he’ll be back at 5:30 to pick me up for dinner and the play (oh good).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So 5:30 rolls around and he’s early to pick me up, so he had to wait 20 minutes while I got ready. We go to a tapa restaurant and decided to sit at the bar. He orders a beer and I order vodka. He kept ordering food that I said I didn’t eat, so 4 vodka martinis and an empty stomach later I was ready to go to the play (I was most definitely drunk). I made it to intermission then told him I was sick and he needed to take me home. On the way home he started talking about some double date that we should do with friends, I didn't even acknowledge the comment. I should have felt bad, but I really didn’t. When I got home I ended up hanging out with my friend all night, and we had a blast. Then the next day he texted me saying he hoped I felt better, then the day after that he asked if I wanted to go on the boat, I told him I was still sick, so he asked if I wanted to watch a movie. I didn’t answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m not sure how I have the ability to act terribly (I actually told this story to someone and they called me a nightmare) but the guys just keep coming back for more. I do feel bad about this one though, he is very sweet, and clearly just wants a girlfriend. The problem is I don’t like being the bad one in a relationship, I mean I usually am anyway, but it’s usually less obvious.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-5212302369038542992?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/5212302369038542992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/08/im-just-not-neutral-beige-type-of-girl.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/5212302369038542992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/5212302369038542992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/08/im-just-not-neutral-beige-type-of-girl.html' title='I&apos;m just not a &quot;neutral beige&quot; type of girl...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-5079278007801210167</id><published>2010-08-06T14:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-06T14:24:24.166-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's raining men...</title><content type='html'>So much to tell all of you, so many guys, and they're all so different.&lt;br /&gt;I'm in the middle of 2 dates right now, but I'll write a full report tonight!&lt;br /&gt;There's something about this summer air!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-5079278007801210167?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/5079278007801210167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/08/its-raining-men.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/5079278007801210167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/5079278007801210167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/08/its-raining-men.html' title='It&apos;s raining men...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-7520507496225511623</id><published>2010-08-02T02:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-03T22:06:07.713-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Burn baby, burn...</title><content type='html'>Have you ever had a bombshell dropped on you, and your mouth just literally fell open? I had one of those moments last week. I followed it with a long session from my therapist Jose Cuervo, because I needed to allow myself one night for a pity party, and then get over it. Mr. Cuervo made me feel a lot better.&lt;br /&gt;So you’re probably wondering what happened... yes well, it involves Jake as many of my previous posts have, and my friend Marianna.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marianna and I met about 2½ years ago, but we were really more acquaintances than friends. We started hanging out a lot recently and obviously I talked about the boy drama that I was going through. Then we started talking about past men that we dated. And then we discovered that we both dated Jake – at the same time. Now this wasn’t shocking to me, I knew Jake would date many girls, just like I would be dating other guys. So Marianna and I started swapping stories (if you ever need to get over an Ex, find someone else he dated, I guarantee you it will set you straight). There were some differences between our stories, but not many. And then Marianna said it “do you ever feel like he was the one that got away?” and I replied “yep, until we started talking, now I don’t.” (for the record I ended it with Jake... over a text message...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marianna said she only dated him for a few months, but they stayed friends. I told her that I tried to end it with him because it had been 2 years and we weren’t going anywhere. That’s when Jake told me he wanted our relationship to go somewhere. I realized I’d waited 2 years to hear him say that and when he finally said it, it just wasn’t enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marianna said she couldn’t believe it because Jake saying that was huge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she said “ &lt;em&gt;yeah, I mean he was pretty screwed up about relationships after the divorce from his wife&lt;/em&gt;.” &lt;strong&gt;BAM &lt;/strong&gt;- it was like I got hit by a sledge hammer. (the only thing more shocking than finding out your Ex is getting married is finding out your Ex was married and you had no idea)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn’t shut my mouth, it just fell open. Marianna realized I didn’t know, and told me it was just some girl from Ontario. That didn’t matter, 2 years and he couldn’t have mentioned he was married; it’s kind of something that should come up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That’s when I realized he had strung me along for 2 years, and I was stupid enough to let him do it. The only consolation I have is that it ended a year and a half ago and I was the one that walked away. But learning this new information changed my opinion about him – I no longer look at him as someone that I could possibly get back together with in the future, or even want to be friends with for that matter. &lt;strong&gt;If he was a hypothetical dress I had hanging in the back of my closet, I’ve taken it out and set it on fire.&lt;/strong&gt; Also, this meant that I could now go into sordid detail about all the weird things he did that I’ve been keeping secret... and I did... to all my friends... and it felt great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw the signs the whole time; I just chose to ignore them. If we’re going to go into details about the signs, well he... (this has been removed because my mother assured me I would be sued. Personally I think a lawsuit would be great publicity for the blog, but nevertheless, she worries about me enough)... sounds like a character from a movie right?&lt;br /&gt;But really this is my life, the people I know are never normal. That’s why I write this blog, I just seem to meet the most extraordinarily eccentric people and their stories need to be told... more as a warning than anything else... but still I wouldn’t trade it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-7520507496225511623?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/7520507496225511623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/08/burn-baby-burn.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/7520507496225511623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/7520507496225511623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/08/burn-baby-burn.html' title='Burn baby, burn...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-6535723224671054219</id><published>2010-07-18T05:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-18T05:53:49.516-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I forgot to clean in Spring so now I’m really going to make up for it...</title><content type='html'>It’s suddenly just occurred to me that my apartment is one shopping trip away from being on an episode of Hoarders. I didn’t get around to spring cleaning this year or really anytime in the last 3 years to be honest. I don’t get rid of things that easily, luckily I have a lot of storage but suddenly all my closets seem to be overflowing. So I’m going to do some summer cleaning, not just in my closets but in my phone too – there’s going to be some major phone number deleting going on.&lt;br /&gt;I figure if I’m going to make a clean start of everything I have to go big.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hold onto clothes not because I still wear them, but because I’ve attached certain memories to them. And of course most of those memories are guy related.&lt;br /&gt;There’s my amazing black lace and ballerina pink silk dress that I wore to a work Christmas party when I was 18. It was the first time I’d ever really drank&lt;em&gt; (I decided to drink straight gin, I can’t even smell the stuff now without wanting to die)&lt;/em&gt; at the party I even had to wear a bracelet that said &lt;strong&gt;Underage&lt;/strong&gt; on it. A handsome young police officer came over with a threat of arresting me for public intoxication; luckily one of my many skills seems to be talking myself out of trouble. I was able to turn the situation around and ended up getting his number instead. I never called him though, there’s something wrong with a guy that wants to go out with a girl that’s wearing a label that says underage.&lt;br /&gt;Then there’s Jake’s favourite dress of mine – I haven’t worn it in at least a year and a half. It’s a cute little black, purple and cream coloured kimono style dress. I don’t even like it anymore but I like the memories that I had in it. It’s the same thing with a black shirt dress that I wore when I was dating Nick.&lt;br /&gt;There’s a button up dress that whenever I wore it, I got myself into so much trouble – good trouble – but still trouble all the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dress after dress, story after story, I’m ready to clean them out and make some room for some new memories. That also means cleaning out my phone.&lt;br /&gt;If I only use the guy’s phone number at 2am after Jose Cuervo convinces me it’s a good idea – it’s gone. If I only have his number because we went on a bad date once at some point in the last year - it’s gone. If the guy has a tribal tattoo – he’s out of my phone. If the guy works as a bartender – good riddance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is good, I feel better already. I even have the first new number that I’m going to add into my phone - this really cute guy that I see at Starbucks at 8 in the morning all the time. I know you’re probably thinking &lt;em&gt;“you don’t get up until noon, why would you be at Starbucks at 8am?”&lt;/em&gt; Well the simple answer is, from 8-9am is when all the cute business men go to get their coffee. It’s like when people get up early to go bird watching; I’ll get up to go see who’s getting coffee and observe what ones are wearing rings on their left hands. Sometimes I’ll sit there with a Forbes Magazine and the business section of the newspaper just for kicks.&lt;br /&gt;Because we all know the early bird gets the worm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-6535723224671054219?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/6535723224671054219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-forgot-to-clean-in-spring-so-now-im.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/6535723224671054219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/6535723224671054219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-forgot-to-clean-in-spring-so-now-im.html' title='I forgot to clean in Spring so now I’m really going to make up for it...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-1490504896066398524</id><published>2010-07-07T07:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-07T11:46:56.726-07:00</updated><title type='text'>“I need to stop having fun and get serious with my life... so I’m getting back together with my ex...”</title><content type='html'>When I started hanging out with Ben he was just an acquaintance that shared my love for the finer things in life like tequila... and tequila. If I was going out at night I would call him and see if he was going out too. I never expected to actually become friends with him, but as we started hanging out we noticed that we had more similarities than differences. As Ben said &lt;strong&gt;“we’re so much alike that we will either really hate each other, or really love each other”&lt;/strong&gt; and it turned out to be the later. Our friendship was totally platonic and we kept it that way, because being so alike we knew if we tried anything else it would end up in disaster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With Ben there was no drama involved just constant laughter and trying to one-up each other on smartass comments. We’re both nocturnal, so while normal people were sleeping we’d watch old school cartoons and hangout. Both being single we’d talk about the people we’re dating, or attempting to date, or getting a restraining order on. He had quickly turned into my partner in crime for the summer, because he was up for anything, and we always got into a reasonable amount of trouble when we were together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ben just got back into town from a trip so I went to meet him at a restaurant for a late dinner to catch up. Dinner turned into two glasses of wine and the really good idea to go to the casino. Ben lost some money, but I came out ahead and since we were both starving decided to go spend my hard earned winnings at Denny’s, which was the only thing open at 2am on a Wednesday. We ordered one thing from every section off the menu so we’d have lots of options.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we were laughing and eating, out of left field he said&lt;em&gt; “you know Bex, you’re awesome, and it’s going to have to be a really special guy that will end up keeping your attention”&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“What do you mean by special? Like, ‘has to wear a helmet all the time’ special?”&lt;/em&gt; I said back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could tell Ben was trying to go somewhere with this, so I pried more into what made him bring that up. Then he told me, he’s getting back together with his ex-girlfriend. And actually, if she knew he was with me right now, she’d be furious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“So what? We can’t hangout anymore?”&lt;/em&gt; I said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“No, we can, I’m really good at sneaking around. I guess the funny thing is that when most people sneak around it’s to cheat, but with us it’s to get Cherry Coke at Denny’s at 2am.”&lt;/em&gt; Ben said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Would she really have that much of a problem with us hanging out?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Babe, I adore you to pieces, but with your influence, I wouldn’t even let you hangout with my girlfriend.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It makes sense, because if I had a boyfriend, there is no way I would let him hangout with Ben. But in the course of the night, Ben went from the person I phone at 3am with what I think is a great idea, to the guy I’m now secret friends with. When we pulled up to my apartment he gave me a hug and said &lt;em&gt;“you never know, I might be single in two weeks”.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That may be true, but for now, it still feels like it’s going to be a very long summer without a partner in crime.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-1490504896066398524?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/1490504896066398524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-need-to-stop-having-fun-and-get.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/1490504896066398524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/1490504896066398524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-need-to-stop-having-fun-and-get.html' title='“I need to stop having fun and get serious with my life... so I’m getting back together with my ex...”'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-3794080228323486395</id><published>2010-07-04T03:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-04T03:28:28.570-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It’s like thinking you’re buying designer and finding out after it’s a knock-off and you can’t get a refund...</title><content type='html'>In our last blog post I was talking about a new guy that was amazing and all too perfect. Within 10 minutes of Hanna meeting him she was giving me smiles of approval every time he looked away. I took Max to meet him, seeing that Max used to be a player I figured who better to spot another player? Max said that he got nothing but good vibes. And finally Marianna, who we had breakfast with and she said that she was usually shy around new people, but he made her feel so comfortable. And me - almost always able to read people, was walking around with a ridiculously big smile on my face, because this guy, in one word, was awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He pursued me, told me how he doesn’t get around, and in fact has had 3 long term relationships the last of which was 4 years (usually the talk of long term anything sends me running, but this guy was too enticing).&lt;br /&gt;He used to be a hockey player and when we were talking I said there is no such thing as a well behaved hockey player when all you have is girls around you. He came around the kitchen island, placed his hand on my cheek, looked me dead in the eyes and said “there is such a thing, I’m proof. Not every guy wants to be like that. Have a little faith”. I absolutely melted like butter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After going on a string of iffy dates and being exhausted from having to be “on” all the time I found a guy that made me feel totally comfortable. Totally forgetting there’s a reason I’m a cynic, and there’s also a reason I write a blog about dating and how everyone plays a game. And my god did I get played. See the simple fact is that when you put your faith in someone you don’t know, it’s like playing a game of Russian Roulette, you never actually know what’s going to happen when you pull the trigger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, did I lose the game? Absolutely. Did he turn out to be a lying DoucheBag? Absolutely (actually Hanna decided the other night that she’s moving him up from DoucheBag to Fuckwad). Am I contemplating revenge? Absolutely. Would I probably go to jail if I sought the revenge I actually wanted? Not if I got a really good defence lawyer (it also just so happens that I used to date one, funny how things work out).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m not that heartbroken, I bounce back fast. It just so happens that I met a very lovely young entrepreneur the other day at my gym, and what excellent timing because I suddenly have a lot of free time on my hands to flirt with him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-3794080228323486395?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/3794080228323486395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/07/its-like-thinking-youre-buying-designer.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/3794080228323486395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/3794080228323486395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/07/its-like-thinking-youre-buying-designer.html' title='It’s like thinking you’re buying designer and finding out after it’s a knock-off and you can’t get a refund...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-907330186356066417</id><published>2010-06-24T01:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-24T02:03:37.629-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello summer, hello new dress...</title><content type='html'>I’ve found myself a new crush and couldn’t be happier about him. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; there’s no better feeling then finding a new crush. He’s nice and funny and cute and not a douche bag, which has already put him miles ahead of some of the other guys I’ve liked. The even better news is that he likes me too, so it’s not going to be a stalking situation (not that there ever has been a stalking situation - there is a difference between stalking and conveniently ending up at the same place as a person over and over again - the police just didn’t understand). So yes, we both like each other and I’m getting Hanna to weigh in on him tomorrow at lunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like this one, I really do, but with my track record I’m not sure how long I’ll keep him around. It’s the same thing with all of the guys, as soon as the&lt;em&gt; “fun whirlwind new exciting feeling”&lt;/em&gt; goes away; it’s just not the same. It’s like when you get a new red dress and you have to wear it right away because you’re so crazy about it and if you could, you would wear it every day because it’s just that awesome. But then you get tequila stains on it, and it doesn’t fit as well as it did when you first got it and the bright red starts to fade. So you just happen to be shopping and spot an even better red dress then you had before. The old dress gets put in the back of the closet in case you ever get drunk and decided it’s a really good idea to call it...er... wear it again, and the new dress gives you that &lt;em&gt;“fun whirlwind new exciting feeling”&lt;/em&gt; the old one lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could blame the ADD for losing interest in guys so quickly, but... no wait... yes, actually let’s blame the ADD because I really want to go shopping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, all in all, pending Hanna’s approval (which he’ll get because he’s awesome) I think I might just try my best to keep this one around. But it is summer, so all bets are off...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-907330186356066417?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/907330186356066417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/06/hello-summer-hello-new-dress.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/907330186356066417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/907330186356066417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/06/hello-summer-hello-new-dress.html' title='Hello summer, hello new dress...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-5849588836097019863</id><published>2010-06-17T03:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-17T04:07:12.583-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I bet I'm probably not invited to the wedding...</title><content type='html'>I woke up last Friday to a picture message on my phone from Hanna. Half awake and with blurry vision I opened the message to see a screen grab from Nick’s facebook profile page. His status read &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nick is getting married; believe it or not... it’s true&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. The only words that came into my head at that moment were “&lt;em&gt;shut. up.&lt;/em&gt;”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is new territory for me; I’ve never known anyone that I’ve ever dated to be engaged or even to be in any sort of serious relationship at all actually. The fact of the matter is, even though the guys I date are several years older than me, they all have one thing in common – they’re commitment-phobe sociopaths.&lt;br /&gt;I prefer them this way. The fear of commitment is fine with me, because I don’t want to be in a serious relationship just as much as they don’t (it really gets in the way of my dating life) and the sociopath part, well that’s just pure entertainment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Nick engaged... really? After the initial shock the next thought that popped into my head was “&lt;em&gt;Thank. God. I dodged that bullet&lt;/em&gt;” (fyi – When I thank God, I’m actually thanking the God of Fashion and Shoes – whom to my dismay was never given any credit in religion class. Who do you think dressed Eve after she was tossed out of Eden? Hmmmm?).&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, Nick is not someone I pictured getting married, with his pathological lying and his misogynistic ways I didn’t think there would be anyone who would actually say yes.&lt;br /&gt;Funny thing is she’s from another country which opened up doors for all kinds of jokes about how she’s just doing it to get into Canada. I texted my best friend Steph to tell her and her simple response back was “&lt;em&gt;desp for a green card hahaha&lt;/em&gt;”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I sit in the spot where I once trapped Nick and caught him lying to my face (oh the &lt;a href="http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-would-tell-liar-that-their-pants-are.html"&gt;memories&lt;/a&gt;...), I felt it necessary to write a blog post about this momentous step in his life. I can only hope that his new fiancé has more luck with him than I did, and perhaps that she doesn’t catch on to his lying - because ignorance really is marital bliss.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-5849588836097019863?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/5849588836097019863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-bet-im-probably-not-invited-to.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/5849588836097019863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/5849588836097019863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-bet-im-probably-not-invited-to.html' title='I bet I&apos;m probably not invited to the wedding...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-4210720078531172029</id><published>2010-06-12T22:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-12T22:58:44.139-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just call me Mae West...</title><content type='html'>What’s in a reputation? Well I suppose a lot to some people and very little to others. I've learned it's best not to judge someone based on what other people have told you about them, because I cant even imagine what some of the guys I've dated say about me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My date the other night was non-eventful, he took the liberty of ordering for me at the restaurant, he was very smooth and I did my best impression of someone who cared about his interests. Unfortunately there wasn’t enough chemistry there to make me want to go on a second date with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The date itself wasn’t blog worthy but what happened an hour before the date was.&lt;br /&gt; I was on the phone with Hanna and I said that I had to have a shower and get ready for the date, Hanna asked me who I was going out with, and so I told her his name. Hanna’s reply – &lt;strong&gt;“I know him! He’s a terrible person!!”&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well excellent. Not that I wouldn’t take Hanna’s word, but she had mislead me slightly before regarding information about a guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was about a year ago and I only knew Hanna as a friend of a friend, but she applied for a job at my work and it just so happened that I was suppose to interview her. I was looking her up on facebook and noticed that she was friends with Nick, whom I had just started seeing and I was meeting his parents that night.&lt;br /&gt;When Hanna showed up for the interview I took her into a separate room to talk to her. I asked her a few standard questions then asked her how she knew Nick. She was confused but said she’d met him a couple of times through a friend. I asked her if she knew anything about him and she said “Well I heard he’s gay. Why?”  And my response was of course “I just started seeing him.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously I had to give Hanna the job after an interview like that, but the good news is we quickly became best friends. That dinner with Nick and his parents was more than strained. Hanna corrected herself two days later telling me that she had talked to her friend and indeed, Nick is straight. Lesson learned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week I was with a very close friend Max and we were joking about dating and talking about the different people we’ve gone out with when this happened;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah, I could never go out with a girl like you” Max said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What do you mean &lt;em&gt;a girl like me&lt;/em&gt;?” I replied&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I like girls like my girlfriend, you know, good girls”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“And what exactly am I then?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“… well you know, I mean you know that you’re a bad girl, you even blog about the guys you date” Max said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one had ever referred to me as “bad girl” before, and I spend very little time thinking about what other people think of me, so it really never occurred to me that I would have this reputation. I’m really not troubled with it. If being a nice girl means staying in, baking cookies and staying out of controversy well then darling I’m more than happy to be a bad girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; In fact I’m going to start living my life to become a modern day Mae West, because it’s like Ms. West said &lt;strong&gt;“There are no good girls gone wrong - just bad girls found out”.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-4210720078531172029?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/4210720078531172029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/06/just-call-me-mae-west.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/4210720078531172029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/4210720078531172029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/06/just-call-me-mae-west.html' title='Just call me Mae West...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-8966174228540824500</id><published>2010-06-08T02:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-08T02:25:19.483-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes it takes an Ex to help you get your inspiration back...</title><content type='html'>Allow me to explain my absence… I’ve been asked why I stopped writing in my blog and it’s not that I wanted to stop writing… I just stopped being inspired.  See the problem was I was spending all of my time with a nice guy (this is a first for me considering I prefer the company of sociopaths).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nice Guy is just as his name describes him. He is polite, handsome, well rounded, and good on paper. We even went to the fair. Now being who I am I couldn’t very well sit down and write to all of you &lt;em&gt;“today was a wonderful day, we went to the fair and ate cotton candy, and then we went home and took a nap before dinner&lt;/em&gt;”. I mean I didn’t want to write about it, so what are the odds any of you would want to read about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While we were out on Friday night I was trying to figure out how much I actually liked Nice Guy when I spotted Jake and in an instant everything changed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seeing Jake was like getting hit with a ton of bricks, because even after a year just the sight of him still makes my heart race and my hands shake. I told Nice Guy that I just wanted to say hello to Jake and that I would be right back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first thing Jake said to me was “oh my god, look how long your hair is! I was telling you to do that for years!” (Its true, I even wrote a blog about it &lt;a href="http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/im-not-saying-i-want-to-shave-my-head.html"&gt;http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/im-not-saying-i-want-to-shave-my-head.html&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;We talked for about 15 minutes, I just couldn’t tear myself away from Jake – I didn’t want to. I knew Nice Guy was waiting for me, but seeing Jake was like seeing a ghost – an unbelievably good looking ghost with great hair and a perfect smile. We talked like it was old times, like nothing bad ever went down, like I never acted crazy, like I never told him we were a broken record and I didn’t want to do it anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I went back over to Nice Guy, he wanted to leave immediately, so we did.&lt;br /&gt;After we left he said &lt;strong&gt;“You still like your Ex.”&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I answered a very simple &lt;strong&gt;“Yes, I do.”&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn’t worth going into how it didn’t matter if i still liked him, because Jake and I would never happen again. I didn’t want to try to redeem myself with Nice Guy because as nice and wonderful as he is, I want my heart to race when I see the person I’m dating. Going to the fair just isn’t enough for me. I want passion and I want my hands to shake and I want to look at the guy and know without a question of a doubt how much I like him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yes, Jake and I may never happen again, but by seeing him, I was able to remember exactly what I want.&lt;br /&gt;And with that I went to the grocery store yesterday and picked myself up a date for Wednesday, so I’ll let you know how it goes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-8966174228540824500?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/8966174228540824500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/06/sometimes-it-takes-ex-to-help-you-get.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/8966174228540824500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/8966174228540824500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/06/sometimes-it-takes-ex-to-help-you-get.html' title='Sometimes it takes an Ex to help you get your inspiration back...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-5509658436812959893</id><published>2010-04-23T14:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-23T14:53:03.412-07:00</updated><title type='text'>About me: Oh, I'm never really good at discribing myself, but my friends say I'm...</title><content type='html'>When I see a shoe, within the first 2 seconds I know if I want to try it on or not, whether the shoe and I have made a connection. Sometimes it’s love at first sight. My heart will skip a beat and I get a rush of endorphins, there’s nothing like holding that shoe in your hands and putting it on your foot for the first time. I think about how much fun we’re going to have together going dancing, for walks on sunny days and on dates.&lt;br /&gt;My shoes are a big part of my life, and I take selecting the right ones very seriously, I will not buy a shoe that I have lukewarm feelings for and I will not buy a shoe online, because although it may look good in the pictures and the description is great, you never really know what’s going to show up at your doorstep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That being said, I will never use an internet dating website to try to find myself a boyfriend. I don’t understand it, where’s the first look and the sly smile? The eye contact? The feeling in your stomach telling you that you need to talk to this guy? The fun? The romance? The spontaneity?&lt;br /&gt;It’s more of a job interview then it is dating. There are the free sites like Plenty of Fish (which let me tell you, if the guy’s not willing to fork over $30 a month for a legitimate dating website, do you really think he’s going to be better then the losers you’ve dated before?).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E Harmony lets you pay them and they find a match for you after you fill out their questionnaire. I imagine it goes something like this –&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Age:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;25-30&lt;/em&gt; &lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Check&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sex:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Female&lt;/em&gt; &lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Check&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Desperate to get married to fill the loneliness inside:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;yes&lt;/em&gt; &lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Check&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hair Colour:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Blonde&lt;/em&gt; &lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Check&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Enjoys outdoor activities:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;No, but I’ll say yes, because guys like that&lt;/em&gt; &lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Check&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Wants Children:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Yes, but will say no if it will get more matches &lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Check&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Number of cats:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;3&lt;/em&gt; &lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Check&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Low standards:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Yes&lt;/em&gt; &lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Check&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Alright, match her up with Joe, the balding 37 year-old divorcée with 2 kids who’s desperate to move on faster then his ex-wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just find internet dating so impersonal and to go though profile after profile, trying to decide who you will settle for to take you and your shoes out seems… disheartening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get that after a while some people get tired of playing the game, but as long as you stay happy and positive, people will be attracted to you, no internet necessary. And when you’re looking for something that plays a major role in your life, do you really want to order it off the internet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just found the most amazing teal stilettos last week and we're going dancing tonight.&lt;br /&gt;And really when you think about it men are a lot like stilettos – when you get them, they're all new and shiny and you want to show them off to everyone. Then after a while the heel starts to wear down and they get all scuffed – you could take them in to be repaired. But isn’t it just easier to cut your losses and get a new pair with a higher heel?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-5509658436812959893?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/5509658436812959893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/04/about-me-oh-im-never-really-good-at.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/5509658436812959893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/5509658436812959893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/04/about-me-oh-im-never-really-good-at.html' title='About me: Oh, I&apos;m never really good at discribing myself, but my friends say I&apos;m...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-2213825222964271700</id><published>2010-04-12T14:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-12T15:14:04.227-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Hope you don't hate me. I have been kinda seeing a girl. Still love you."...</title><content type='html'>All’s fair in love and war, but there are always rules that a person should follow to ensure the game is played like gentlemen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The number one rule is that honesty is always the best policy. A cheap thrill is your backup, they know it and you know it. So if things have gotten serious with someone else, you must keep them in the loop and vice versa.&lt;br /&gt;This is important for one simple reason it is the difference between having a fun flirtation that doesn’t hurt anyone and having a fun flirtation and later being accused of seducing someone else's boyfriend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You’ve probably guessed it by now, but our beloved Cheap Thrill who has been providing us with stories had been keeping one big piece of information to himself. That would be the girl that he’s seeing – oh but don’t worry, she lives out of town, so it’s not like she’ll find out what he’s been doing… right?&lt;br /&gt;The thing is you can’t be a cheap thrill if you have a girlfriend, if you act like a cheap thrill and you have a girlfriend, that doesn’t make you a cheap thrill that makes you an asshole.&lt;br /&gt;I didn’t even find out about this from him, but from another source, although I woke up to a text message on my phone from him this morning saying "Hope you don't hate me. I have been kinda seeing a girl. Still love you".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me tell you how last week went down. He wanted to hang out Wednesday evening but I was busy so he asked what my week was like. Friday arrives and at noon he wants to know if I’m free later. I tell him he can come over to my place, well later arrives and he says he’s coming… then he stands me up. If you want to make me angry – waste my time.&lt;br /&gt;Then it occurs to me that I never actually cared enough to find out anything about him. So when I start asking around I discovered the girl he forgot to mention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So since he wants to play dirty, I can play dirty - I have no sympathy for him, because clearly i was underestimating him before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And on the high chance Cheap Thrill that you read my beloved blog – xo, still love me?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-2213825222964271700?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/2213825222964271700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/04/hope-you-dont-hate-me-i-have-been-kinda.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/2213825222964271700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/2213825222964271700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/04/hope-you-dont-hate-me-i-have-been-kinda.html' title='&quot;Hope you don&apos;t hate me. I have been kinda seeing a girl. Still love you.&quot;...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-9001770313971580351</id><published>2010-04-12T01:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-12T01:48:23.545-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The original cheap thrill...</title><content type='html'>As much as I’d love to let everyone know about Cheap Thrill I’m still considering a few different ways of how I want his chapter to end. I need to hold my cards close to my chest for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But just remember when one door gets closed a different one gets opened, and who happened to walk through that door today but Randy.&lt;br /&gt;Randy is an old cheap thrill of mine from years ago, actually he is my original cheap thrill. When I was younger we worked together and he would flirt with me mercilessly. I actually stopped dating a guy so I could pursue Randy. I was only 18 and we hung out a few times - this is when I figured out what games a cheap thrill plays. Randy is a master at playing the game, he knows exactly what girls want to hear. No hurt feelings he out played me fair and square – but at the time he was playing at an advanced level and I was still a beginner.&lt;br /&gt;I haven’t seen him in years, in fact I forgot he even existed, but when I saw him today it was a great coincidence that I’ve recently had an opening in the cheap thrill department.&lt;br /&gt;We chatted for about 10 minutes today and we’re going to catch up properly soon. If he’s still the same Randy he was when I knew him, he’s not dating material, but he’s funny and nice and great to hang out with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If all else fails I’ll go looking for a guy who’s in the self-help section in Chapters – I love a guy who’s looking to be saved from one thing or another.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-9001770313971580351?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/9001770313971580351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/04/original-cheap-thrill.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/9001770313971580351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/9001770313971580351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/04/original-cheap-thrill.html' title='The original cheap thrill...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-7530920916077724168</id><published>2010-04-10T11:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-10T11:09:41.448-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Quick FYI</title><content type='html'>Cheap Thrill is dead to me.&lt;br /&gt;I'll be shopping.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-7530920916077724168?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/7530920916077724168/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/04/quick-fyi.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/7530920916077724168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/7530920916077724168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/04/quick-fyi.html' title='Quick FYI'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-6703736125018635003</id><published>2010-04-08T02:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-08T02:29:26.601-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This doesn't suck...</title><content type='html'>I was catching up with my friend Abby that I haven’t seen since December. Since I saw her 3 months ago a lot has changed for her - she met her current boyfriend, he’s moved in with her and they got a puppy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know what you’re thinking - isn’t that moving really fast for only going out for 3 months?&lt;br /&gt;Well, possibly but she’s unbelievably happy and she said to me&lt;strong&gt; “I’m going to do this until it sucks, and then I’m going to get out just as fast as I got in.” &lt;/strong&gt;She's a woman after my own heart.&lt;br /&gt;Abby said the only reason she wasn’t going to move in with her boyfriend is because of what other people would think – then she realized she didn’t care. Why let the judgement of other people stop you from doing what’s going to make you happy (unless it’s illegal, then you should probably think twice and have bail money ready just in case).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There will always be people who are going to judge and disagree with what you think or what you’re doing, especially is its non-conformist. Don’t listen to them, it’s your life do what you want to do. Can you imagine if I listened to people about settling down into a serious relationship in my early 20s? I knew it wasn’t what I wanted and it wouldn’t make me happy. I can’t keep my nails painted the same colour for 5 days and I’m supposed to pick one guy? By dating many men, I not only keep myself very happy, but also very entertained. And I acquire wonderful stories for all of you.&lt;br /&gt;So go do something that makes you happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven’t seen my Handsome Man again&lt;em&gt; (trust me I’ve been looking).&lt;/em&gt; So I’m killing time toying with Cheap Thrill – I figure it doesn’t suck and he has the most important quality in a man – he gives me good writing material.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-6703736125018635003?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/6703736125018635003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/04/this-doesnt-suck.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/6703736125018635003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/6703736125018635003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/04/this-doesnt-suck.html' title='This doesn&apos;t suck...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-6120080379674141420</id><published>2010-04-05T17:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-05T17:48:26.929-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Infidelity is the new black…</title><content type='html'>I was asked by a male friend of mine if I thought it was cheating if he never told anyone and there was no way for his girlfriend to find out. The immediate answer out of most people’s mouth would be yes, but I think this is a grey area.&lt;br /&gt;My answer to him was “I don’t know”.&lt;br /&gt;If a tree falls in the woods and no one is around to hear it, does it still make a sound? -only if it has a communicable disease.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Athletes that play on sports teams are famous for their infidelity. It’s easy for them; they’re always in a different city staying in hotel rooms. Who is going to find out? – we should ask Kobe Bryant’s wife.&lt;br /&gt;Mistresses have become the hottest commodity for men lately. Some are being reserved about it and only having one in Argentina (Mark Sanford). Others have a 3 or 4 that include a neo-Nazi (Jesse James) and then there’s Tiger who all by himself managed to make every other guy in the world look like a saint.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ran into Jake this past December; we started chatting and managed to get on the topic of Tiger. Knowing full well that Jake has a problem with a wandering eye; I wanted his take on it.&lt;br /&gt;Surprisingly he said his wife should leave him. Then he asked me what I would do if I were her. I referenced Lorena Bobbit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a discussion earlier today with Valerie about cheating. She said she could never cheat on the guy she is seeing because she would feel too bad about it. Then she asked me if I could ever cheat.&lt;br /&gt;I know for sure that I would never carry on an affair while I was with someone else (unless it was with the pool boy or tennis instructor).&lt;br /&gt;Once you’re in the woods, and you and your conscience are the only ones to hear the tree fall, I think the correct question isn’t “is it cheating” or “could you cheat” I think it’s all a matter of what lets you sleep at night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think we all learned from Tiger, if you can’t sleep at night, don’t pop Ambien and hop in your car, because those trees will pop right out at you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-6120080379674141420?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/6120080379674141420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/04/infidelity-is-new-black.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/6120080379674141420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/6120080379674141420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/04/infidelity-is-new-black.html' title='Infidelity is the new black…'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-6621438181259173181</id><published>2010-03-29T13:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-29T14:00:57.262-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Enter the handsome man to stir things up…</title><content type='html'>I’m in love. Well… not really but there’s potential.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let’s forget everything about Cheap Thrill, because his job is done. A cheap thrill is there to keep you entertained until you find someone who you actually want to date. It’s like getting a temporary car from the dealership to drive while you wait for your new car to arrive. And my new car has arrived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose I’m getting ahead of myself here, because I haven’t actually talked to this new guy... yet. &lt;br /&gt;Friday night, instead of working on a report (that actually still desperately needs to be finished) I decided to go to the gym (some people may call this procrastination). The gym is always dead quiet on a Friday night, and indeed it was except there was a new addition. He was the only other person working out and the only way I can describe him is handsome. He is strikingly handsome – he is in no way pretty, he is Cary Grant/Gregory Peck handsome.&lt;br /&gt;He is the type of handsome that I would marry because our children would look like the kids in the Ralph Lauren catalog.&lt;br /&gt;The only other man that ever caught my attention like this was Jake, not that that worked out particularly well, but what are the odds of this guy having sociopathic tendencies too? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would have introduced myself, but our workouts weren’t really coordinated and at risk of looking like a lunatic jumping off the elliptical to chase after him, I decided it would be better to just wait.&lt;br /&gt;The positive thing about him being at the gym on a Friday night is that most people that go to the gym alone on a Friday night are single. So for the next couple of days I will be on the lookout for Handsome Man at the gym, and ease into a conversation with the classic “I’m sorry to bother you, but you look so familiar. Have we met before?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean this could be a total waste of my time and Handsome Man may already have a girlfriend, or boyfriend, or be a total jerk. Only time will tell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until then though, I’d like to consider the best possible scenario of him being single and sane and he’s just been so busy in medical school that he hasn’t had time to date until now…&lt;br /&gt;What? – A girl can dream.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-6621438181259173181?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/6621438181259173181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/03/enter-handsome-man-to-stir-things-up.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/6621438181259173181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/6621438181259173181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/03/enter-handsome-man-to-stir-things-up.html' title='Enter the handsome man to stir things up…'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-999424039220574909</id><published>2010-03-22T16:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-22T16:44:17.334-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"I'm not yelling, this is just the way I talk!"...</title><content type='html'>There is one word that should never be spoken to me during a fight and that word is “Relax”. Because I can guarantee that I’m really not as upset as you think I am, but as soon as you tell me to relax then I will be upset.&lt;br /&gt;When I’m with a guy, fights are few and far between. It takes a lot to make me upset, and if I am upset I rationally talk about it by stating simple facts. Understandably, sometimes my simple facts may be taken the wrong way and sound harsher then I intended them to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jake and I only ever had one fight (his fault) and during the fight I said “you don’t possess empathy”, which is true because he doesn’t. But I was completely calm during this fight, and he came back at me with “Wow – &lt;em&gt;Relax&lt;/em&gt;”. If we’re just going back and forth speaking in a calm manner, I don’t want you to try to turn the fight around on me and make it seem like it’s my fault and that I’m some crazy girl over reacting.&lt;br /&gt;That fight ended with Jake apologizing, and for the first time admitting that he cared about me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now what prompted me to write this post is our favorite Cheap Thrill. On Friday afternoon he asked me a question over text message and I gave him an answer that he wasn’t happy with. I then proceeded to go into a meeting for half an hour and when I looked at my phone after the meeting he had sent me 6 text messages, some accusing me of ignoring him and the last one saying something about a friend of mine. So I simply replied to him “I was in a meeting. I didn’t realize you could act like such a prick”. – Now this may seem harsh, but it’s true, and if I was acting unbecoming for an unwarranted reason, I would expect to be told so.&lt;br /&gt;So he replied “I was kidding. Are you sensitive?” – Well, no he wasn’t and we all know I’m not sensitive. Then he sent “I am bored and thrive on reaction, &lt;em&gt;relax&lt;/em&gt;.” –there it was, that godforsaken word.&lt;br /&gt;I do not need to be told to relax; I am not the one sending multiple unanswered text messages. Do not try to make this into me being an overly emotional girl, because I am not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything ended well; he admitted he was acting like a child; I just wanted to make sure he understands he won’t get away with anything he usually gets away with.&lt;br /&gt;If he wants a girl that’s ok with him behaving that way, well I know plenty of girls that are dumb enough to be played, and I would be happy to set him up.&lt;br /&gt;Aren’t Cheap Thrills supposed to be fun? Any more drama and I’ll have to throw this one back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-999424039220574909?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/999424039220574909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/03/im-not-yelling-this-is-just-way-i-talk.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/999424039220574909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/999424039220574909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/03/im-not-yelling-this-is-just-way-i-talk.html' title='&quot;I&apos;m not yelling, this is just the way I talk!&quot;...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-997944802045601585</id><published>2010-03-22T02:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-22T02:53:00.470-07:00</updated><title type='text'>If I want him to stop dating other people, does that mean that I have to stop dating other people?</title><content type='html'>So I’m reading this book and it said a very simple sentence that got me thinking. The author wrote “be the person you want to be with”. Now that’s certainly not a new idea at all, and I’ve actually heard it many times before, but this time it struck a chord.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It got me thinking who have I been when I was with guys from my past?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was the first guy that I really dated when I was 18. He was sweet, polite, and good looking and even cooked soup from scratch. We never fought because there was nothing to fight about, he was great. And I think about the person that I was at that time; to sum it up in one sentence - I used to bake cupcakes with pink frosting for him and his roommate on a regular basis. I have nothing bad to say about this guy, he was great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately being as naive as I was at the time, I met a guy that was bad to his core and I was sure I could tame him. So things between the sweet guy and me ended and so did my cupcake baking habit. I often joke that this bad boy ruined me, but I was really just looking for a change of pace from being the girl that baked cupcakes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was nothing that was good about my time with the bad boy, that’s why they’re called bad boys. He was a moron, and just like I had nothing bad to say about the sweet guy, I have nothing good to say about the bad boy. (That’s not entirely true, I was asked last year if there was anything nice I could think of to say about him... it took me 10 minutes but I finally came up with “I liked his cologne”)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So for the past couple of years I’ve been caught up in work, not looking for anything serious, but I like to have fun. And for the past couple of years, most all of the guys I’ve dated have been career oriented and fun to be around. I’d be amiss if I didn’t mention that I’m slightly crazy, but in a good way (as a friend described it I’m “crazy-woo” as opposed to “crazy-crazy”). So yes all of the guys have been a little crazy, some more so then others, but I would rather crazy than boring any day. What am I going to write about a boring guy? We sat on the couch and watched tv, nothing happened. I’d rather be able to say we played an indoor game of soccer in his friend’s apartment and by no fault of my own the soccer ball somehow went off the balcony and into a tree 9 floors down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when I ‘m looking for a husband maybe I’ll start baking cupcakes again, but right now I’m perfectly happy with the men I’m with. And if I’m happy, why mess with a good thing?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-997944802045601585?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/997944802045601585/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/03/if-i-want-him-to-stop-dating-other.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/997944802045601585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/997944802045601585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/03/if-i-want-him-to-stop-dating-other.html' title='If I want him to stop dating other people, does that mean that I have to stop dating other people?'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-4161768904613779305</id><published>2010-03-16T13:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-16T15:36:32.716-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My emotions are attached just fine, thank you...</title><content type='html'>“&lt;em&gt;You seem emotionally detached.&lt;/em&gt;” That was the sentence that was spoken to me yesterday by a man that I barely know.&lt;br /&gt;I sit in a class with him once a week, for 2 hours and have very rarely said anything to him. To be fair I did give a presentation about a month ago on how to break up with someone. It was just common sense stuff – like don’t break up with someone in a coffee shop because you could get burned, like literally scalded. Under extreme emotional situations some people throw things, better it be ice cream then coffee, and better to know before it happens to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was standing with another girl when he came up to me to discuss my emotional vulnerability. I told him I was happy, so I’m not disconnected from my feelings, but I understand it seems odd that I don’t react like most people.&lt;br /&gt;Then he told me that “&lt;em&gt;it’s bad not to deal with &lt;strong&gt;those emotions&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;.”&lt;br /&gt;I asked him what emotions he was referring to precisely so I could understand better. He said “&lt;em&gt;like during a break up&lt;/em&gt;”. I told him that yes, breakups are sad sometimes, but I’m not going to dwell for days on something that isn’t going to change.&lt;br /&gt;Then he agreed that it’s bad to dwell, but what about during the break up; don’t I cry?&lt;br /&gt;Cry about what? If someone tells me that they don’t want to date me anymore, I’m not going to beg the person to reconsider their decision. Why would I want to be with someone who doesn’t really want me? Why would I want to wake up thinking “are you happy with me? Are you going to break up with me again today?”&lt;br /&gt;He told me that he cried once after a breakup (I sort of feel like people must think I’m a therapist of some sort). Crying is normal, but I also feel like a lot of people cry and sit in bed and eat ice cream because that’s what society has said is protocol after a breakup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A breakup is like finishing a book. If it was a really good book and you really enjoyed it, of course you’re sad when you turn the last page and there’s nothing else written. But have you been to a bookstore lately? There are thousands of books to choose from, and sometimes you find that what you thought was the best book you’ve ever read can quickly become the second best book you’ve ever read and then the third.&lt;br /&gt;And don’t forget, if you really didn’t like the way a book ended, no one will hold it against you if you rewrite your own ending.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-4161768904613779305?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/4161768904613779305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/03/my-emotions-are-attached-just-fine.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/4161768904613779305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/4161768904613779305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/03/my-emotions-are-attached-just-fine.html' title='My emotions are attached just fine, thank you...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-8016041151297780729</id><published>2010-03-12T23:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-12T23:26:57.048-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ha! Obviously I offend people, that's not new...</title><content type='html'>I got my first angry comment on a blog post and I haven’t been so happy since our humble little blog went into quadruple digits for page hits (thank you all by the way!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately our angry commenter decided to remain anonymous, but that’s ok, I’m all about anonymity.&lt;br /&gt;I’m going to have to give them a nick-name for the purpose of this post though. I’ve decided on the “&lt;strong&gt;Commenter Really Angered&lt;/strong&gt; by &lt;strong&gt;Post&lt;/strong&gt;” – or C.R.A.P. for short.&lt;br /&gt;So now that we’ve figured that out, let me tell you why C.R.A.P. has made me so happy. After reading the comment that was left, it was clear that C.R.A.P. fundamentally has a problem with me as a person, how I behave and my attitude. What makes me so happy about this is that C.R.A.P. willingly read my entire post and felt so passionate about what I had written that they had to respond to it.&lt;br /&gt;The biggest compliment a writer can have is a reaction from a reader. Whether I make you laugh, smile or make you want to throw your computer against the wall, what I had to say and what you chose to read made you think. That’s more then I could ever ask for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So C.R.A.P. I would love to take your advice to get over myself but unfortunately you’ve made me more into myself than ever. By posting an angry comment, I know even though you don’t like me, you like my writing and you come back to read it. So thank you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sidenote of concern for C.R.A.P.&lt;/em&gt; – when you wrote to me you kept typing the words “ur” and “u”, are your “y” and “o” keys defective? Was your keyboard made by Toyota? You should take that in to be looked at.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once again, thank you everyone for your support and sharing this blog with your friends and even family, I wouldn't do this if you didn't read it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-8016041151297780729?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/8016041151297780729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/03/ha-obviously-i-offend-people-thats-not.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/8016041151297780729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/8016041151297780729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/03/ha-obviously-i-offend-people-thats-not.html' title='Ha! Obviously I offend people, that&apos;s not new...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-6094165249517450972</id><published>2010-03-11T12:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-11T13:03:31.307-08:00</updated><title type='text'>He's pretty, that's not the problem. The problem is that he might be prettier then me...</title><content type='html'>I keep my beauty routine fairly simple. Let’s run through this so we can do a comparison.&lt;br /&gt;Hair- My hair takes me about 10 minutes in the morning. No extensions.&lt;br /&gt;Skin and Tanning - I moisturize. I don’t fake ‘n’ bake; I’ve accepted the fact that I’m white.&lt;br /&gt;Make-up – Takes me about 7-10 minutes in the morning&lt;br /&gt;Waxing – yes …&lt;br /&gt;Plastic Surgery- I work with what I got and go to the gym (although I’ve been asked on different occasions if my chest and lips are real. Hey Society - should that really be a normal question for a 20-something girl?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there you have it - simple and natural, but always well put together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now, I have this overwhelming feeling that Cheap Thrill is prettier then me, and I’m not quite sure how I feel about that.&lt;br /&gt;Not that I really want to date him, but all the same I’d like to feel like I put more effort into my appearance then he does.&lt;br /&gt;He is clearly a big fan of waxing – the worst part is, his eyebrows are better shaped then mine are, and I kind of want to know who his esthetician is.&lt;br /&gt;His hair is always perfectly styled.&lt;br /&gt;He has unbelievably soft skin – which again, I don’t know if I want to ask a guy I’m seeing what moisturizer he uses.&lt;br /&gt;The other day he asked me if he looked burnt from tanning, I was caught off guard and replied that yes, he looked red.&lt;br /&gt;His body is definitely ripped, but he works hard for that at the gym – so no roid-rage. But when you catch a guy browsing the v-neck t-shirts on the American Apparel website, you start to worry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t have any problem whatsoever with Metro guys, I’ve just never wandered into this territory before. So, this is new. I know what you’re thinking, this guy sounds like a total chach, but trust me, if he was, I wouldn’t even be talking to him. He’s just… pretty.&lt;br /&gt;So for now, I’ll let him keep decorating my world with his good looks, and see where this goes. Worst case scenario I end up with better eyebrows and softer skin.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-6094165249517450972?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/6094165249517450972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/03/hes-pretty-thats-not-problem-problem-is.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/6094165249517450972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/6094165249517450972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/03/hes-pretty-thats-not-problem-problem-is.html' title='He&apos;s pretty, that&apos;s not the problem. The problem is that he might be prettier then me...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-1694312187417067927</id><published>2010-03-10T13:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-10T13:34:42.515-08:00</updated><title type='text'>We aren't in grade 2 anymore, there are no "take-backs"...</title><content type='html'>I change my mind a lot, I can be very indecisive. Before I leave the house, I will probably have changed my outfit at least half a dozen times. But after changing my mind and going back to Jake so many times only to have it end again, I decided that I would never go back to an ex again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There’s only so many times you can go back to a person and pretend the problems that you’ve always had in the relationship suddenly wont be there anymore.&lt;br /&gt;I was dating a guy and things were starting to head towards “in a relationship” status. I was fairly indifferent on the matter.&lt;br /&gt;We were talking one day and he turned the conversation to what we were doing. I asked him what he thought and he said “I want you to be my girlfriend”. (He also said a lot of other romantic crap that quickly becomes void with the next part of the story)&lt;br /&gt;I said sure, since on several occasions he had already introduced me as his girlfriend anyway.&lt;br /&gt;Then I get a phone call about a week later. He said “I don’t want you to be my girlfriend anymore. But I want to keep hanging out.” To which I replied “Ok, and no, we wont be seeing each other anymore.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He kept calling me and sending me text messages, but I wouldn’t answer them. I went out with a couple of girlfriends about 2 weeks after he had ended things. He showed up and started following me around. I ignored him until he came up to me and said; “I take it back. I miss you. &lt;em&gt;I love you&lt;/em&gt;.” (We had never actually said I love you when we dated)&lt;br /&gt;I didn’t know what to say to him, I had no words. Not because I was flattered by his proclamation, because I wasn’t. I was more embarassed for him then anything. So I didn’t say anything back except “I need to leave.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I continued to ignore his calls until they eventually stopped. About 2 months later I ran into his best friend. We started chatting and he decided to let me in on a secret. Turns out their group of friends had a bet going and the first guy that “settled down” and got a girlfriend had to pay up a $1000. Cl&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;ass&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;y.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking back I’m beyond happy that I didn’t go back to him. Exes are like drugs, they are always going to be there to tempt you, but remember to &lt;strong&gt;just say no&lt;/strong&gt;!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-1694312187417067927?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/1694312187417067927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/03/we-arent-in-grade-2-anymore-there-are.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/1694312187417067927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/1694312187417067927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/03/we-arent-in-grade-2-anymore-there-are.html' title='We aren&apos;t in grade 2 anymore, there are no &quot;take-backs&quot;...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-7089462896220672300</id><published>2010-03-09T18:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T18:15:13.694-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Your issues are following us again…</title><content type='html'>Everyone has baggage. But there are people that pack light and can fit everything into one neat little bag and then there are people that need a separate car to follow them because they have so much.&lt;br /&gt;I like to think I pack light; I don’t carry issues from past relationships into new ones. Just because the last guy I dated was a pathological liar, doesn’t mean this new one is. He hasn’t given me any reason not to trust him. But because I dated the pathological liar, I know what sort of things to look for as a warning. Every time I date a new guy it’s like taking a new class in school. And you apply what you’ve learned from one class to help you pass another. It’s like taking what you learned in English to help you write an essay for History. So from Jake I learned not to get jealous and later applied that with Nick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you’re able to learn from the past and move on you’ll be fine. However, there are a lot of people out there that are very poor students. Instead of learning from a relationship and moving forward, they keep the issues that plagued their past relationship and carry them into their new one. Just because your last girlfriend was cheating on you, doesn’t mean I will. And no, you can’t go through my phone. (I’ve never gone through a guy’s phone, because I would never expect him to go through mine. It’s a trust thing.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can’t date a guy that’s being followed by a car full of issues. Most importantly because it’s like buying something that’s already defective (there’s a reason you get 70% off on damaged goods). I want to be 100% sure that if this guy is going to end up broken, that I’m the one who did it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-7089462896220672300?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/7089462896220672300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/03/your-issues-are-following-us-again.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/7089462896220672300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/7089462896220672300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/03/your-issues-are-following-us-again.html' title='Your issues are following us again…'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-3051229827225949258</id><published>2010-03-08T13:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-08T13:15:37.715-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I met my stalker and he is "hair doll" crazy …</title><content type='html'>I like to think that I’m the type of person that people will remember, that I leave an impression on people (sometimes not always good). But everyone always says bad publicity is good publicity. However, I didn’t quite realize the impression I’d left on a certain guy that I’d only met once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me take you back to the post I wrote about getting jealous called “&lt;a href="http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/jealous-much.html"&gt;Jealous much?...&lt;/a&gt;” in the post I mentioned how when Nick was ignoring me I went and sat down at the bar and started a conversation with the really good looking guy next to me. I didn’t mention in the post, but at the end of our conversation I gave the guy my number and told him to call me sometime and we could hang out (as friends of course, because he knew I was there with Nick). I never did answer my phone when the guy called because I knew it would just cause more drama if I hung out with him. Anyways that all happened about a year ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So on Saturday I was supposed to be meeting a friend of mine for coffee and I was early. I took a seat and this really good looking guy was looking at me, so I flashed him a smile. He came over and asked if he could sit down and I obviously said yes. He was very nice and we chatted for about 20 minutes, then the conversation turned;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Stalker&lt;/strong&gt; - “you don’t remember me do you Rebecca?”&lt;em&gt; I don’t remember faces at all, I’m horrible like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me&lt;/strong&gt; – “no… sorry, should I?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Stalker&lt;/strong&gt; – “yes… we met about a year ago”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me &lt;/strong&gt;– “Sorry, I have no idea who you are.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Stalker&lt;/strong&gt; – “You were with your boyfriend, and you guys were fighting and you came over and started talking to me.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me&lt;/strong&gt; – “oh god, yeah, wow I can’t believe you remember me…”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Stalker&lt;/strong&gt; – “I remember a lot about you… I called you for 3 weeks and you never called me back…”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me&lt;/strong&gt; – “yeah, well… I was with my boyfriend…you know”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Stalker&lt;/strong&gt; – “Oh yeah, how did that work out for you?” &lt;em&gt;*my crazy radar is going off*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me&lt;/strong&gt; – “um… we broke up about a month later”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Stalker&lt;/strong&gt; – “yeah, maybe you should have left that asshole for me.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me&lt;/strong&gt; – “excuse me?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Stalker&lt;/strong&gt; – “Do you believe in fate?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me&lt;/strong&gt; – “No.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Stalker&lt;/strong&gt; – “I’ve been waiting a year for this”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me&lt;/strong&gt; – “Oh yeah, um can you just watch my drink, I have to run to the washroom.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I just left and phoned my friend to meet me somewhere else.&lt;br /&gt;For a half an hour conversation a year ago I must have really left an impression on this guy I honestly don’t even remember what his name is.&lt;br /&gt;Jake always hated when I talked to people I didn’t know, even in the elevator in my building. He would get really mad at me about it, not in a jealous way, but in a protective way (he was in a profession where he dealt with a lot of criminals). He told me it’s great to be friendly but to stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t know if I’ll stop talking to strangers, because I’ve met a lot of really great people that way. But I for sure wont talk to strangers now without one hand on my personal alarm (available at the Bay).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-3051229827225949258?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/3051229827225949258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-met-my-stalker-and-he-is-hair-doll.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/3051229827225949258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/3051229827225949258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-met-my-stalker-and-he-is-hair-doll.html' title='I met my stalker and he is &quot;hair doll&quot; crazy …'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-1341392406864226799</id><published>2010-03-04T12:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-04T12:55:57.165-08:00</updated><title type='text'>He’s a friend of mine, you’ll love him... just please don’t ditch him at the restaurant…</title><content type='html'>There’s a reason that I don’t go out with friends of friends, and that’s because it gets messy fast. So when I break this rule I usually regret it later.&lt;br /&gt;I was talking to a girl friend of mine [Angie] last night, she had set me up with a friend of hers and the date didn’t go well. Actually if you’ve been keeping up with the blog please refer back to my post &lt;a href="http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/when-playing-crazy-on-date-goes-wrong.html"&gt;“When playing crazy on a date goes wrong”&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Angie said that he called her a couple of days after the date to see what I had thought of him. She told him that I felt we would be better off as friends. She said that he was embarrassed because he felt that he did something wrong on the date (well, he did stand outside of a drugstore waiting for me after I told him to go home). Then Angie told me that he has stopped calling her, and it’s probably because he thinks I told her everything about the date (um… yeah, that story was gold. It launched this blog!). Either way, there are many things that can go wrong when you decided to date a friend of a friend, even if it’s only one date. And for me, especially if I get bored on that date because I always find a way to entertain myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, a very close male friend of mine, Hayden, introduced me to his best friend, Phil, who was in town for the holidays. He lives about 4 hours away, we hit it off and kept in touch. About 6 months after our first meeting Phil asked me to be his date to a wedding, and never passing up an opportunity to get dressed up and drink champagne I happily accepted. We had never actually been on a date, but now I was going away for the weekend with him. Everything went well for the most part actually, I had fun.&lt;br /&gt;I hadn’t really told Hayden about going to the wedding with his best friend, I really didn’t see anything happening between Phil and me. And when it comes down to it, I would rather keep Hayden for a friend any day then risk our friendship to try to date one of his friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was 2 weeks before the Labor Day long weekend and Phil called and asked me if I would like to come out to his cottage for the long weekend, go boating, etc. I told him maybe and that I needed to think about it.&lt;br /&gt;I was talking to Hayden later that same week and he started talking about Phil. Hayden said he was mad because Phil had just invited a girl that he wanted out to his cottage for the long weekend. Surprised I told Hayden that Phil had also asked me to his cottage. Hayden said “yeah, but you said no.” and I corrected him and told him “I didn’t say no, I said maybe, but now it’s a no”.&lt;br /&gt;Hayden was so entertained by this that he wanted me to phone Phil and tell him that I had decided that I was going to come out and see him for the long weekend after all, just to see what he would do. It crossed my mind, and although it probably would have been fun to watch the weekend unfold, I just didn’t care enough to travel 4 hours for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dating friends of friends is messy and it’s usually the relationship with your friend that can get strained if things aren’t working out. I love my friends, that’s why I like to date people that they don’t know. This way they don’t get caught in the middle if I happen to sneak out the back door of a restaurant during dinner. It’s just better this way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-1341392406864226799?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/1341392406864226799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/03/hes-friend-of-mine-youll-love-him-just.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/1341392406864226799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/1341392406864226799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/03/hes-friend-of-mine-youll-love-him-just.html' title='He’s a friend of mine, you’ll love him... just please don’t ditch him at the restaurant…'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-3525467177476831925</id><published>2010-03-01T14:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-01T15:02:51.931-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'll put $5 down on this working out and $95 down on this ending badly...</title><content type='html'>I wouldn’t really put myself at the top of the list as someone who makes really good decisions. I’m more of a “what’s the worst that could happen?” type of girl. So the question today is; is it better to be safe or sorry?&lt;br /&gt;I'll be honest, Cheap Thrill is wearing me down. I have a lot of admiration for a guy that keeps bouncing back and trying again after repeatedly being turned down, it also helps that he’s good looking.&lt;br /&gt;There’s a 95% chance that I will regret going out with him later, but there’s also that 5% chance that I may not. Also keeping in mind that the guys that I’ve gone out with instead of playing it safe have given me the most entertaining stories to tell.&lt;br /&gt;Cheap Thrill has gotten me to the point where I actually look forward to seeing him. He genuinely makes me laugh and smile, if for nothing else then his sheer determination to get me to like him.&lt;br /&gt;He’s playing the game, but so am I, and he’s starting to seem like a worthy opponent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now, knowing that he’s in &lt;em&gt;Category 1&lt;/em&gt; and the odds of being able to move him into &lt;em&gt;Category 2&lt;/em&gt; are very slim, is it just better to stay safe and not even see what possibly could happen? The worst case scenario would be that I actually get attached to someone that I’ve nick-named Cheap Thrill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m not going to put all my chips on the table since the odds are heavily stacked against me, but I don’t see the harm in throwing a couple of chips down and at least playing one round.&lt;br /&gt;I think in the end it’s better to be sorry, because at least you tired and had some fun while it lasted. Besides, it’s really easy to pick out the women that think it’s better to be safe… they’re the ones with 14 cats.&lt;br /&gt;So please place your bets now because the games are about to begin...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-3525467177476831925?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/3525467177476831925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/03/ill-put-5-down-on-this-working-out-and.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/3525467177476831925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/3525467177476831925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/03/ill-put-5-down-on-this-working-out-and.html' title='I&apos;ll put $5 down on this working out and $95 down on this ending badly...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-7723886973966377472</id><published>2010-02-25T17:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-25T17:13:06.622-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Women who say chivalry is dead obviously haven’t had a guy honk at them lately…</title><content type='html'>I take preventative measures to ignore people trying to get my attention when I’m walking down the street. I always have my headphones in my ears, although there’s not always music playing. I also either have my sunglasses or a hat on so I can avoid eye contact with people. I’m not trying to be anti-social; I just don’t like being bothered in the street, because more often then not, it’s someone that I don’t want to acknowledge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every now and then I get 2 or 3 guys that are walking behind me and try to get my attention; it usually goes something like this;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Hey!...Hey Hot girl!… Hey girl in the black coat! Hey!”&lt;br /&gt;“Dude, she can’t hear you, she’s listening to her ipod.”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Yes, because if I could hear you yelling for my attention in the street, I would &lt;strong&gt;definitely&lt;/strong&gt; give you my number)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One time I was standing beside a guy at the crosswalk, sunglasses on, headphones in, and I could see he was trying to get my attention, but I ignored him. Then he started tapping my shoulder… I don’t like to be touched, I have a bubble, and he was definitely in it. I took my headphone out of my ear and said “yes?” he replied “how’s it going?” I said “fine.” Then he gave me a creepy smile that I’m sure he usually reserved for small children. I promptly put my headphones back in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course then we have the guys that honk their car horns. I was in the car with a male friend of mine once and there was a pretty girl walking down the street. He said “look at her…” and then went to hit the horn. I grabbed his hand and asked him why he would honk at a girl. To which he replied “What? Girls like it when you honk at them...”.&lt;br /&gt;Um…what? I couldn’t understand what would ever give a man the impression that a person likes to be honked at while they walk down the street. And what are you going to do, if by some unlikely chance, the girl actually smiled back at you? Park the car and run down the street after her? That wouldn’t scream desperate and mentally unbalanced at all. &lt;br /&gt;Car horns should only be used for road rage and to warn the children playing in the street that you don’t intend on stopping or slowing down your fast approaching vehicle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So please, do the men in your life a favor and kindly remind them to leave the pretty girl walking down the street alone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-7723886973966377472?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/7723886973966377472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/women-who-say-chivalry-is-dead.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/7723886973966377472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/7723886973966377472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/women-who-say-chivalry-is-dead.html' title='Women who say chivalry is dead obviously haven’t had a guy honk at them lately…'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-8492020537672519175</id><published>2010-02-23T11:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-23T11:36:27.912-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh my, how will I ever get the cereal down from the top shelf...</title><content type='html'>Meeting new guys is easy; you just have to put yourself in the right place at the right time. Then laugh later about what a coincidence it was that you were both in the same place at the right time.&lt;br /&gt;My favorite new way to meet a guy is to wear a baseball cap. I bought a Toronto Maple Leafs hat to wear back and forth from the gym and quickly realized that I had found the best ice breaker ever. No matter where I was I had guys coming up to me, they would tell me that they were from Toronto, or ask me how I could support a team that constantly loses. I wore it to a pub and instantly had 4 guys start a conversation with me. For the record I view the Leafs like a one legged man in a race; you know he’s not going to win but you cheer him on all the same for still trying. Anyway, you’ll get many more guys that will come up to you if you have a controversial team’s logo on your hat; no one cares if you support the home team, that’s expected. One wise word of warning – learn at least one players name from the team because it got really awkward when I was asked who my favorite player was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The grocery store is great because there are so many things you can ask a cute guy to help you with. Like if you both happen to be in the cereal aisle, and you just can’t reach the top shelf to get the Lucky Charms down. That’s when you turn to the good looking guy beside you, put that helpless look on your face and ask him if he could possibly try to help you. Guys love to feel needed, even better if they think you would be completely lost if they weren’t there to help you. After they get the cereal for you, make sure they know how much you appreciate it, try saying; “thank you so much. I don’t know why they make these shelves so high. I should have you every time I go grocery shopping.” Then smile and giggle. Hopefully you are able to start up a conversation from his response, and even if he doesn’t ask for your number, chances are that he’s a regular at the grocery store so the next time you see him, you can approach him. You can also try asking for help opening those god awful plastic bags in the produce section, or ask how you can tell if a fruit is ripe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously you may not need help, and are fully capable of doing things for yourself, but a wise woman once told me that every now and then a guy needs to think that you do need him. She demonstrated this by taking her glasses off and asking a young guy to fix them for her (there was nothing wrong with her glasses). He took them in his hands and looked at them, then she said “you fixed them, thank you” and tried to take them back. But the guy was adamant that he should tighten the screws and ran off to go find something that he could use to accomplish that. When he came back he was beaming with pride and happily handed the “fixed” glasses back over (the funny part is that he actually ended up breaking the screw inside the arm of the glasses, and they had to be taken in to be repaired). I’m not saying be totally helpless, because that’s unattractive. I like to think of it as “playing Snow White” every now and again, just to let them feel like a Prince.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-8492020537672519175?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/8492020537672519175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/oh-my-how-will-i-ever-get-cereal-down.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/8492020537672519175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/8492020537672519175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/oh-my-how-will-i-ever-get-cereal-down.html' title='Oh my, how will I ever get the cereal down from the top shelf...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-8333597311696778039</id><published>2010-02-22T14:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-22T15:02:12.870-08:00</updated><title type='text'>But the bad guys are just so much more fun then the nice normal ones…</title><content type='html'>I have a type of guy that I go after, most women do. Physical appearance alone, give me a tall, broad shouldered guy with a square jaw and dark hair and I’ll marry him tomorrow. It’s a horrible weakness, especially since I read an article last year about a study done in England. Apparently you can tell a person’s promiscuity by their facial features. The more promiscuous men had square jaws, smaller eyes and an overall more masculine appearance. So excellent, I’m attracted to he-whores! But then it got better, because as the study went on it said that men who were looking for short term, casual relationships will go after women who have big eyes, big lips and small jaws. Then it showed a picture of this type of woman… she looked like me. Super.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so appearance wise, I have an uphill battle going, but what about personality? Looks are important, I’m not going to pretend they aren’t, that’s the first thing you judge a person on. But personality is equally important. Jake and I could sit and talk for hours and time would fly past because we got along so well. (Jake however had a very square jaw and the attributes that go along with that, if you catch my drift.) If a guy doesn’t have a good personality and can’t keep me interested he’s useless to me (or he may end up in the Cheap Thrill category).  When I get bored, I simply move on. Why waste my time on someone who can’t even keep my interest at the beginning of a relationship?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend Valerie was dating a perfectly nice, cute guy but he was boring as hell. She said he would just talk about things that she didn’t care about, to the point where during dinner she would actually listen to other table’s conversations instead of what he was saying. Valerie said his talking was non-stop, and it started as soon as they woke up in the morning. Finally one morning she snapped and said “Listening to you is like constantly having the Documentary Channel on! I just don’t care, I can’t take anymore!” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The types of guys that I’m dating now are great arm candy and always entertaining, but definitely not the type of guy that I would ever marry. But I’m not looking to get married now and if I’m only allowed to be young and foolish once, I’m going to take full advantage of that. In fact, on the topic of foolish, maybe I’ll see what Cheap Thrill has been up to lately.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-8333597311696778039?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/8333597311696778039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/but-bad-guys-are-just-so-much-more-fun.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/8333597311696778039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/8333597311696778039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/but-bad-guys-are-just-so-much-more-fun.html' title='But the bad guys are just so much more fun then the nice normal ones…'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-384657684177287606</id><published>2010-02-16T10:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-16T11:27:54.837-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Just another bad date...</title><content type='html'>A date that gets put in the category of "bad date" is usually due to things like wrong choice of restaurant or you just didn't click with him. I've never really had a terrible date, unlike my friend Sophie. She actually has nightmares, I've never met anyone that has dating stories quite like hers. Therefore, her stories make a perfect addition to our blog. There are so many to choose from, she literally has told me dozens, but I'm partial to the following one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sophie met Ted in a coffee shop and he asked her out, he was cute and seemed relatively normal, so she said yes. It was Saturday morning and they went for a hike, (I give Sophie points for that, because the last thing I'm going to do with a guy I don't know is go into the woods alone with him. That's like a Dateline story waiting to happen). Either way, Sophie made it out of the woods, and actually had a really good time. Ted was dropping her off at her condo and he asked her what she was doing later, and did she want to have dinner? Sophie said she would love to and Ted replied "Great! I'll come over around 7pm and cook for you." Sophie is really nice, too nice, here is where she should have said either a restaurant, his place or nothing at all. Its very peculiar for someone to invite themself over to their date's apartment to cook when you've never had a meal together before. Sophie, was caught off guard, she found it odd, but said it was ok. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jump forward to 6pm, Sophie is in the shower washing her hair and she hears knocking. She ignored it because Ted isn't expected for another hour and besides that she's in an condo so he needs to be buzzed up first. But the knocking gets louder, so Sophie gets out of the shower to go see who's at her door. &lt;br /&gt;Why its Ted!! Apparently someone let him in the main door (at this point I would dial 91 and have my finger waiting over the last 1), so here stood Ted with bags of groceries in hand. Dripping wet Sophie asks him why he's so early and he says he just "couldn't wait". She tells him she needs to finish showering and for him to please have a seat on the couch and wait for her. Sophie finishes her shower and can hear pots and pans banging in the other room. She walks out to see that Ted has made himself right at home and has gone through all her cupboards to get what he needed to start dinner. Sophie then went back into the bathroom and proceeded to dry her hair for 45 minutes while trying to figure out what to do. She says to his credit he was actually a very good cook. He then told Sophie that he wanted to take her Salsa dancing. The dinner had actually gone well despite the rocky start so she agreed.&lt;br /&gt;Salsa dancing turned into meeting up with some of her friends at a club and because they were both drinking they took a cab back to her place, where his car was. He asked her if it would be ok if he stayed on her couch instead of cabbing home and coming back for his car in the morning (the answer is no). Sophie being too nice for her own good said ok. She made up the couch for him and then she shut her bedroom door and went to bed. Morning time comes and Sophie turns over only to discover that at some point in the night Ted migrated into her bed (this is the type of guy that makes a hair doll)! Not only that, but he then tried to make a move on her! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that was Ted, and I wish I could say that that was the worst date Sophie ever had, but its not even close. Sophie is one of my favorite people in the whole world, she provides me with endless entertainment. I think the lesson here is that its ok to be mean, its not even being mean, its giving the guy a reality check.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-384657684177287606?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/384657684177287606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/just-another-bad-date.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/384657684177287606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/384657684177287606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/just-another-bad-date.html' title='Just another bad date...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-4215541987383499475</id><published>2010-02-16T08:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-16T08:19:23.230-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh Canada! Thank you for importing all the gorgeous men in!</title><content type='html'>My fabulous readers, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've gone to find myself an Olympian and material to write about for my blog. We'll call this "research".&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to try to update all of you from my phone, but I'm thinking most of my time will be spent trying to get into the Athlete's Village. &lt;br /&gt;I hear George Clooney is in town too, but I was warned that he "walks on both sides of the street" if you know what I mean. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you all! Update soon!&lt;br /&gt;-Becca&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-4215541987383499475?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/4215541987383499475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/oh-canada-thank-you-for-importing-all.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/4215541987383499475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/4215541987383499475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/oh-canada-thank-you-for-importing-all.html' title='Oh Canada! Thank you for importing all the gorgeous men in!'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-4734501008133162099</id><published>2010-02-15T12:57:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-15T12:58:18.591-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Can you call my phone? I think it might be broken... he said he was going to call and I haven't heard from him...</title><content type='html'>When I’m expecting a call from a guy, my cell phone becomes the enemy. Not just a regular enemy either, it’s like Hitler. Every time an alert goes off my heart will stop. When I realize that I’m at this level of anticipation and anxiety I turn my phone off. I’ve discovered it’s not healthy for me to become so obsessed over another person’s ability to pick up the phone. This usually happens with new crush territory. If I could bottle the intoxicating feeling that a person gets when they have a new crush I would be a millionaire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I usually give a guy 3-4 days to call me before I write them off. Not to say that there isn’t a possibility that they will call after that, there’s a good possibility they will. But there’s a good possibility I won’t answer.&lt;br /&gt;Unless there’s a good reason they couldn’t call I consider over 5 days too long. If they’ve waited almost a week to call you they obviously have other things (or people) to do and you’re not on that list. The problem with having a crush on a guy is that you’re more then happy to make excuses for him because you like him so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided to go to my favorite male friend to discuss why a guy would go a week in between calling or just stop calling altogether.&lt;br /&gt;He said that there are a couple of reasons, but this one stood out the most; guys just like the chase and if he’s got a girl and it was easy, he loses interest fast because there’s no challenge (I cleaned up his language a lot).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Usually the guy will keep stringing you along because he knows that you like him, and he knows you’ll come back to him. He doesn’t have to try anymore because he’s already got you, and you’re making it so easy for him. He really loses interest in pursuing anything else with you besides the obvious.&lt;br /&gt;Guys love to hunt, so by answering every time he calls and by dropping things so you can see him, he doesn’t feel the challenge. But if a guy has to pursue you, and he has to work hard to get you, he’s going to be so happy when he finally does get you that he won’t want to let you go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven’t waited by my phone for a guy to call me in a very long time. Using common sense, if a guy likes me, he’s going to call me. It’s as simple as that.  If he wants to see how far he can push me and how much he can get away with, well then I welcome the challenge. He usually is shocked when he finds that I’ve made other plans and can’t fit him into my schedule anymore. Things got much simpler when I stopped making excuses for the guys who couldn’t call. And I’m much happier now; it’s a very good feeling when you know without a doubt that you’re getting that call from him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-4734501008133162099?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/4734501008133162099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/can-you-call-my-phone-i-think-it-might.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/4734501008133162099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/4734501008133162099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/can-you-call-my-phone-i-think-it-might.html' title='Can you call my phone? I think it might be broken... he said he was going to call and I haven&apos;t heard from him...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-7767055934856792787</id><published>2010-02-14T03:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-14T03:09:43.811-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Valentines Day!!</title><content type='html'>For those of you that take Valentines Day seriously; good for you! Halmark and Lindor Chocolates thank you!&lt;br /&gt;I will have a new post up later today, until then, Jose and I send all our love!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forever yours,&lt;br /&gt;Becca&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-7767055934856792787?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/7767055934856792787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/happy-valentines-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/7767055934856792787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/7767055934856792787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/happy-valentines-day.html' title='Happy Valentines Day!!'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-3661195834619481226</id><published>2010-02-12T12:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-12T12:44:59.984-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sure, being sexy is great. But, a man will never forget a girl who falls down the stairs, and takes him with her...</title><content type='html'>When you watch movies you see women like Halle Berry that have that natural sexiness to them. When she walks or when she drinks a cup of coffee there’s an air of seduction to every movement she makes. And then there’s me. I’m extremely clumsy, I like to think that perhaps people find it endearing, or at least they can get a good laugh when they’re around me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t even try to be sexy, mainly because I can’t take myself seriously enough to pull it together.&lt;br /&gt;The first time I met Jake, I walked up to him to introduce myself and I was holding my drink. I was standing in front of him talking when the condensation on my glass mixed with my hand lotion. My drink slipped out of my hand and spilled all over his pants. For some god unknown reason he still asked me for my number and handed me his phone so I could add my info. When I was handing it back to him I accidently dropped his phone on the floor and it landed in the puddle of my spilled drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, many of my clumsy moments happened with Jake. There was the time that we were walking outside, we were going down some giant stone steps and I fell, face first, down 3 of them. Then one time we were hanging out in his apartment and he had the heat turned up uncomfortably high. I was wearing a sweater over a tanktop so I decided to take the sweater off (I had forgotten that I pinned the sweater to the straps of my tanktop to keep it in place). So here I was sitting on the couch beside him, stuck with my arms up in the air and my sweater pulled up over my head desperately thrashing around trying to get out. Being the gentleman that he was he decided to try to help me and said “it looks like your tops are pinned together”… oh right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, I can’t forget the time I was sitting on the arm of his leather couch, in a beautiful silk dress, with my feet on the cushion of the couch talking to him. He was making dinner and said something funny. When I laugh I have a natural tendency to throw my head back, in doing so I also leaned back slightly. Here’s an important lesson for everyone, silk is very slippery on leather. I fell off the couch and landed on my back on the floor. The dinner was lovely though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There’s no point in getting embarrassed, I personify physical comedy at its finest. I may not have a seductive air about me, but I attract attention all the same.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-3661195834619481226?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/3661195834619481226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/sure-being-sexy-is-great-but-man-will.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/3661195834619481226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/3661195834619481226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/sure-being-sexy-is-great-but-man-will.html' title='Sure, being sexy is great. But, a man will never forget a girl who falls down the stairs, and takes him with her...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-9191360733530940879</id><published>2010-02-11T16:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T16:39:32.929-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm not saying I want to shave my head like Britney did but...</title><content type='html'>When things end with a guy I’m seeing, one of the first things I usually do is change my hair. If I’m moving on from a guy, I want to move on from the hair style or colour I had when I was with that guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can’t really control the feelings you may still have for your Ex, but you can control how your hair looks (unless it’s humid, then your f-----). I think it’s having that sense of control that helps a person effectively move on, and refuse to return to the relationship. Ex’s always come back, usually when you have a new crush. Ex’s have a 6th sense that lets them know when you’re happy. Then they pop back in and see what emotional havoc they can cause.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was seeing Jake and my hair was about medium length at the time. I’d seen the girls that he usually dated and each looked identical to the other; they were all fake-tanned, anorexicly skinny with long blonde hair. We were constantly on and off, and he was almost always the one who would want to be on again.&lt;br /&gt;One time he wanted to get back together and he asked me if I was single. I said yes, and asked him if he was single, he said &lt;strong&gt;yes&lt;/strong&gt;. Then I asked him about &lt;strong&gt;the blonde girl&lt;/strong&gt; I had just seen him with the week before, he said; &lt;em&gt;“Oh, Tammy? No, that’s nothing, I would consider myself single.”&lt;/em&gt; (please take note of the manipulation of words that he used, he was good at that)&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;I asked him if Tammy would consider him single, and got the obvious answer of &lt;em&gt;“No”&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, one day he asked me if I would grow my hair long for him. The problem with Jake asking me to do that was, growing my hair out would take around 6-8 months. He couldn’t even give me a guarantee that he would be around in 6-8 days, let alone months. He refused to give me a status on what exactly it was we were doing together, so I happily gave us a status of &lt;strong&gt;Over&lt;/strong&gt; and &lt;strong&gt;cut all my hair off&lt;/strong&gt;. You will hear more about Jake, because the stuff that he would say was priceless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But if changing your hair doesn’t help you move on from a relationship, you can always try my old standby - &lt;em&gt;Jose Cuervo &lt;/em&gt;and&lt;em&gt; Madonna&lt;/em&gt;. I’m not saying they’ll cure you, but for the night you'll forget all about your Ex and in the morning you'll have such a headache you wont be able to think about anything anyway!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-9191360733530940879?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/9191360733530940879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/im-not-saying-i-want-to-shave-my-head.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/9191360733530940879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/9191360733530940879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/im-not-saying-i-want-to-shave-my-head.html' title='I&apos;m not saying I want to shave my head like Britney did but...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-7475529483296855811</id><published>2010-02-11T01:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T01:35:33.165-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The really great friends will help you move a body, no questions asked...</title><content type='html'>My mother told me to always have grace, because if you react to a situation with grace and take the higher road no one can ever say anything bad about you. Although I’m sure there are people who say bad things about me, it doesn’t faze me, if I cared what people thought of me we wouldn’t have this blog! So let’s all be thankful I have no shame! &lt;br /&gt;I remember having a discussion with my mom about how I would love to seek revenge on a guy that crossed me, but she told me that I must handle myself with grace . Then I asked her “What about my friends, it’s not like I’m directly doing it?” and my mom said “You can’t control what your friends do, can you? That’s their choice”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my best friends, they’re my family. So when someone hurts them I get very upset, and vice versa.  I saw Jake on and off for 2 years, he wasn’t always nice to me, so my friends had a few problems with him. I was with my friend Steph and we saw him in public, and I pointed him out, but I didn’t think Steph was going to do anything. Except she did; she walked right up to Jake pointed at him and screamed &lt;strong&gt;“You’re an Asshole!!”&lt;/strong&gt; I was shocked, so was he. I apologized, grabbed Steph and held my laughter in as we walked away. When Steph and her boyfriend broke up (his doing) he asked her if he ran into me, should he be worried that I’d punch him. She told him yes, I’ve never punched anyone in my life, but I defiantly would have hit him, or thrown my coffee on him, or yelled&lt;strong&gt; “shoplifter!”. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jake also ran into my friend Nikki, except this was more recent. Apparently Nikki still didn’t like Jake even though Jake and I hadn’t even talked to each other in months.  But the thing is, when you treat someone’s best friend poorly, the best friend never forgets. Nikki was having dinner with her boyfriend in a tiny Thai restaurant where the table beside you is about 3feet away from yours. She was reading the menu and glanced up only to notice that Jake had been seated at the table beside hers and he was with a date (I wish her luck). He was sitting across from her, at first she was shocked, and then she remembered her disdain for him. She just glared at him, until she caught his eye. He was trying to place her, and then it was like lightening hit him. He grabbed his dates hand, said it was “too crowded and they needed to leave”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not condoning this behaviour, but no one can fault a person for sticking up for their best friend, that’s their job and I love my friends for being so protective. I just really can’t get back together with Jake ever again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-7475529483296855811?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/7475529483296855811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/really-great-friends-will-help-you-move.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/7475529483296855811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/7475529483296855811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/really-great-friends-will-help-you-move.html' title='The really great friends will help you move a body, no questions asked...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-2484739465712911838</id><published>2010-02-10T16:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-10T17:28:25.644-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I would tell a liar that their pants are on fire, but it's much more fun to watch them burn...</title><content type='html'>Nick considered himself very smooth when it came to women, and I believe he thought he was much smarter then me since he was a few years older. Technically speaking he was a “cheap thrill” guy that I mistakenly put in the second category of “openly dateable” guy.&lt;br /&gt;He was a habitual liar, and still is, I’m sure. I’m also sure he was used to dating very gullible women, which I am not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was just getting home from a coffee with a friend and Nick was supposed to come by so we could hang out for a bit. This is the first time I caught him outright lying. It was over text message, involved my friend Hanna and perfect timing;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me &lt;/strong&gt;– “Hey, I’m home now, so whenever you want to come over…”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nick-&lt;/strong&gt; “Cool, I’m just writing a paper at home, I’ll be maybe another half an hour”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me –&lt;/strong&gt; “Of course, take your time”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hanna –&lt;/strong&gt; “Hey, I’m at my friend Bill’s house and that guy Nick that you’re seeing is here”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me –&lt;/strong&gt; “Are you sure? He just told me he was writing a paper at home.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hanna –&lt;/strong&gt; “Positive, he’s sitting beside me”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me –&lt;/strong&gt; “Excellent. I’ll have a funny story for you later. I’ll call you.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nick –&lt;/strong&gt; “Almost done! Last Paragraph!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me –&lt;/strong&gt; “Excellent”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nick –&lt;/strong&gt; “Ok, I’m just leaving my house; I’ll be there in about 15”&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me -&lt;/strong&gt; "Can't wait!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Nick got there I was very happy to see him, we sat on the couch and I made sure he sat at the end, against the arm of the couch. We chit chatted for a few minutes, then I said;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“I want you to know, I like you, and the only thing that’s really important to me is honesty. As long as you’re always honest with me, everything will be good.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without missing a beat he said;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“I agree, there’s nothing worse then lying, I would never do that. I could never lie.”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point he had made it too easy. So I smiled said “excellent” and gave him a kiss. I was sitting beside him, so I put both of my legs over his; effectively trapping him between the arm of the couch and myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“So”&lt;/em&gt; I said, &lt;em&gt;“what was your paper on?”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“uuuhh, nothing important, it’s boring stuff”&lt;/em&gt; he replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“I’m interested.”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Medical chemistry stuff”&lt;/em&gt; he said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Ooo that is boring. I’m happy you were able to finish though.”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Yeah, I wish I could have come over sooner”&lt;br /&gt;“Me too.”&lt;/em&gt; I gave him another kiss and then said;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“I know what I was going to tell you! Funniest thing; my friend Hanna, is friends with your friend Bill. I actually think you may know Hanna. You were sitting beside her tonight.”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He turned white as a ghost and he had no where to go. The only regret I have is not taking a picture of the look on his face with my phone. The thing that scares guys is when you keep a calm nonchalant attitude during a moment like this, they expect you to yell at them and get emotional. When you don’t they can’t read you and have no idea what’s going through your head (although I'm positive no one really wants to know what goes through my head). I told Nick that it would be wise if he left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't care that he was at his friend’s house, but liars make me angry. And it really was an unbelievable amount of fun for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-2484739465712911838?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/2484739465712911838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-would-tell-liar-that-their-pants-are.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/2484739465712911838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/2484739465712911838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-would-tell-liar-that-their-pants-are.html' title='I would tell a liar that their pants are on fire, but it&apos;s much more fun to watch them burn...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-7460794541227577019</id><published>2010-02-10T02:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-10T02:53:13.297-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Jealous much? ...</title><content type='html'>I’m not a jealous person (unless you have a Slanket right now, because my blanket keeps falling off). I find jealously useless, it’s really not a desirable characteristic to me in the least.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was dating Nick and even though it was still early, we had instantly bonded and seemingly everything was going very well. We decided to go to the club with a few of his friends that night. Before we left the house Nick pulled me into a room away from everyone and said he needed to talk to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nick&lt;/strong&gt;-“ We haven’t been out to the club together before, so I just wanted to let you know that I know a lot of people, so there will probably be a lot of people coming up to me.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me –&lt;/strong&gt; “ok! Let’s go”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nick –&lt;/strong&gt; “No, like I know a lot of girls, so don’t take it the wrong way.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me –&lt;/strong&gt; “I won’t, trust me, I have a lot of male friends, it really doesn’t bother me, I don’t get jealous”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it’s true, I don’t care if a guy I’m seeing has a lot of female friends, I wouldn’t tell him to get rid of them. If a guy told me who I could and couldn’t be friends with, he should probably watch out for the scalding coffee about to be poured in his lap.&lt;br /&gt;Anyways I digress; we get to the club and as soon as we get out of the car 3 girls ran up to him. I politely introduced myself and we went into the club. I was standing beside him and girl after girl came over to him to talk. But here’s the catch; I realized that not only was Nick now completely ignoring me, but he was actually openly flirting and hitting on these girls as I stood by his side (I know flirting when I see it, it’s my second language and I’m fluent in it). I may not be jealous but I am self respecting.  I walked away and took a seat at the bar and started a conversation with the guy beside me who just so happened to be very good looking. &lt;br /&gt;About 10 minutes later Nick finally realized that I had left his side and came looking for me. When he found me talking with the guy at the bar, he was beyond unhappy. He told me to come back over to where his friends were. I didn’t fancy being ignored again and I informed him that I was having a conversation and would be over in a few minutes. It then became evident that it was not my jealously that would be an issue, it was his. He carried on about how I was being disrespectful by talking to this guy while he’s 30ft away (the irony was killing me, and to be clear I wasn’t flirting with the guy at the bar, simply talking.). I was less than impressed with his behaviour that night and we didn’t speak for a week after that (I should have ended it then, but Nick will supply many stories for this blog, so I’m happy I didn’t).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jealousy isn’t an option for me. If the guy I’m with would rather to go chat up some other girl and he would rather be with her, excellent. I wish them all the best in the future. I probably wouldn’t send him a wedding present though; his bride may get the wrong idea&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-7460794541227577019?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/7460794541227577019/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/jealous-much.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/7460794541227577019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/7460794541227577019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/jealous-much.html' title='Jealous much? ...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-4762571482316647725</id><published>2010-02-09T13:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-09T13:39:50.418-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I never dated him…Why? What did you hear?...</title><content type='html'>For me guys fall into 3 categories;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1.&lt;/strong&gt; Guys you date and only tell your best friends about&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2.&lt;/strong&gt; Guys you date openly but a relationship isn’t likely&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3.&lt;/strong&gt; Guys you date with a relationship in mind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of my guys I date fall into the 2nd category. I’ve had one or two in the 3rd category and a couple in the 1st category.&lt;br /&gt;Today I’d like to talk about the guys in the 1st category, the “cheap thrill” as I like to call them. These aren’t the guys that send you flowers or plan out extensive dates for you. They don’t care what grades you got in school or what job you have now.&lt;br /&gt;For me the guys that fall into the 1st category are usually beautiful, very athletic, charming and have nothing in common with me. I have a weakness for them; it’s like putting a bag full of candy in front someone; you know you shouldn’t have it because it’s full of empty calories, but god it sure looks good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I call them “cheap thrills” because that’s what they provide. These are the guys that pursue you even after you’ve turned them down. They use flattery to no end, and when you have a beautiful man telling you how gorgeous he thinks you are, you can’t help but get a cheap thrill out of it. No question about it, there’s always physical chemistry there and that’s what they play off of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I received a text message last week from a “cheap thrill” that has been openly flirting with me. The text said &lt;strong&gt;“we should really just make out sometime”&lt;/strong&gt; (this was at 10am on a Thursday). Super romantic, I know, but romance isn’t what he’s going for. Let me tell you what he’s done here - he wants me to get that cheap thrill from the fact he’s interested in me and continues to pursue me. He knows I wouldn’t go for it, but by sending that message he’s got me thinking about what it would be like to kiss him. So now every time I see him, I think about that text and about kissing him. Don’t underestimate the “cheap thrill” guys, they know what they’re doing, and they’ve usually perfected getting a girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m not saying I’m going to fall for his games, but I wouldn’t leave myself alone in a room with a bag full of candy at the moment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-4762571482316647725?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/4762571482316647725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-never-dated-himwhy-what-did-you-hear.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/4762571482316647725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/4762571482316647725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-never-dated-himwhy-what-did-you-hear.html' title='I never dated him…Why? What did you hear?...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-4155213132748698745</id><published>2010-02-09T00:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-09T02:01:02.283-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It’s my house, it’s my mess – don’t touch it...</title><content type='html'>Ok, I’m messy...really messy. I never had a clean room as a kid, and as an adult my apartment looks like God let it rain dresses and shoes inside. But this is the way I like it, I know where everything is and it takes me 2 seconds to get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was dating a guy that was a clean-freak, the fact that he liked everything orderly didn’t bother me, so I’m not sure why the fact I like things messy bothered him so much. It was like he couldn’t leave stuff alone. I left him in my living room while I was getting something out of the closet, only to come back to see him Windexing my table, the tv and my computer. I asked him what he was doing and he said “&lt;em&gt;it’s more fun when everything is clean&lt;/em&gt;”. I just sort of stared at him, this kept happening, he would pick stuff up and move stuff around.&lt;br /&gt;Here’s my problem, I didn’t go to his house and start throwing stuff on the floor because that's how I like it. He kept his place the way he liked it and I keep mine the way I like it. For some reason though neat and organized people feel the need to try to get you over to their side, kind of like a cult.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favourite people are the closeted messy people that pretend to be neat and organized. I dated one of those too. The first time I went to his place the apartment was so clean it didn’t look lived in (I was slightly worried he was a sociopath to be honest, my friend even got me a checklist of other signs to look for). This carried on as we dated; his apartment was always freakishly spotless. Then my favourite day came! I stopped by on short notice to drop something off and he was really hesitant to let me in, once I walked in I saw why. &lt;strong&gt;Mess! Everywhere!&lt;/strong&gt; I’m talking clothes all over the floor, a random old Nintendo on the stairs with accompanying games, dishes everywhere. I think I fell in  love with him a little bit that day, it showed me he wasn’t perfect, which is exactly what I needed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being messy is part of who I am, I've been this way my whole life, I certainly don’t plan on changing now (but I bet if I marry a clean-freak he’ll hire a maid to keep up with me).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-4155213132748698745?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/4155213132748698745/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/its-my-house-its-my-mess-dont-touch-it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/4155213132748698745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/4155213132748698745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/its-my-house-its-my-mess-dont-touch-it.html' title='It’s my house, it’s my mess – don’t touch it...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-4757138760069213477</id><published>2010-02-08T14:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-08T16:44:00.238-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Let go of the branch, then we’ll talk…</title><content type='html'>A few years ago I was being heavily pursued by a man that had a girlfriend. He had been with his girlfriend for 3 years, she was beautiful, yet he kept asking me out. He would phone me at all the time just to talk, and I would ask him where his girlfriend was. Eventually I just stopped picking up his calls and he developed a healthy relationship with my answering machine. It went a little something like this;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;“You’ve reached Becca; sorry I couldn’t answer your call&lt;/strong&gt; (no I wasn’t),&lt;strong&gt; please leave a message.”&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Beep&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;“Hey, it’s Sam, just wondering what you’re doing. Call me back.”&lt;/strong&gt; (I'm avoiding you)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Beep&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;“Hey, I’m just going to get dinner, do you want to come? Call me back.”&lt;/strong&gt; (nope)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Beep&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;“Hey, I’m at Earls if you want to come meet me.” &lt;/strong&gt;(no chance)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Beep&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;“I’m just leaving Earls, wanted to let you know in case you were on your way down here, I’ll wait 10 more minutes just in case.”&lt;/strong&gt; (please hold your breath)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Beep&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;“We must have missed each other, but give me a call, we can hang out tomorrow if you’re free.”&lt;/strong&gt; (haha, oook. I'd rather take up with the homeless man that lives in the dumpster. I believe his name is Oscar)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Beep&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;THIS RECIPIENT’S VOICEMAIL INBOX IS FULL&lt;/strong&gt; (thank god)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn’t understand why he was turning borderline Fatal Attraction when he was the one that had a girlfriend. I was talking to my friend Nikki about it and she simply said that he’s a “monkey”. I asked her to please elaborate.&lt;br /&gt;A “monkey” is someone who won’t get rid of their boyfriend or girlfriend, even though they don’t want to be with them anymore, that is until they’re sure they have another one lined up to take that persons place. Like a monkey won’t let go of one branch until he’s sure he has another branch in his other hand to swing to.&lt;br /&gt;I’ve never had anything make more sense to me. After she said that I’ve noticed many other people who display this same behavior (not to the same stalkerish degree as Sam) but it’s definitely there.&lt;br /&gt;So I have to ask; is it really that scary for some people to be alone? Is it worth staying with someone you’re no longer interested in just because it’s become comfortable? If I don’t have those feelings for someone anymore, staying with them is the last thing that I’m going to do.&lt;br /&gt;And please, you tell me you’ll leave your girlfriend for me (that’s major disrespect to the girlfriend). What makes me think you won’t be telling another girl the same thing once we’re together?&lt;br /&gt;Let go of the branch first and maybe then we’ll talk.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-4757138760069213477?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/4757138760069213477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/let-go-of-branch-then-well-talk.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/4757138760069213477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/4757138760069213477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/let-go-of-branch-then-well-talk.html' title='Let go of the branch, then we’ll talk…'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-6691389287937924392</id><published>2010-02-08T12:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-08T13:17:15.107-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Little Competition is Healthy…</title><content type='html'>I remember reading an article a couple of years ago that suggested you date 3 men at the same time. It said you should tell each of them about the other one, and sleep with none of them. The idea behind this was that by dating 3 guys, you learn quickly what you like and don’t like and you can pick the guy that suites you best.&lt;br /&gt;I did manage to find 3 guys and I dated them all at the same time. &lt;strong&gt;Never Again&lt;/strong&gt;. It was absolutely exhausting, took up all of my free time, and to top it off I got them confused. I forgot what guy I was talking to on the phone and started mentioning a date that he didn’t take me on. After this I decided dating 2 guys at the same time was my limit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did however discover a wonderful secret that I use even if I’m only dating one guy. Sense of competition = extra effort on his part. Around the 3rd date, I usually sit the guy down beside me (this is key), put on my most innocent face and have a talk with him. By now I have it memorized;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“I just wanted to let you know, because I want to be totally honest, and it’s not a big deal, but I am seeing someone else as well. I started seeing him around the same time I started seeing you. Obviously it’s not serious, and I’m not sleeping with either of you. But I just thought you should know.”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is where his ego takes over; 9 out of 10 times, he’ll play it cool, sometimes the guy will even say they’re dating someone else too. After you get his reaction back, give him a relieved smile, take his arm, put it around you and snuggle up to him. I’ll wager $100 that he’s thinking about that other guys arm around you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Men are naturally competitive, after I tell a guy that I’m seeing someone else besides him, his effort and attention paid to me increases exponentially. They can’t stand the thought of losing a girl to another guy (especially fun if you put a fresh bouquet of flowers on your table and you tell him they’re from “a friend” when he asks. Because then you’ll have 2 bouquets of flowers, or jewelry if you’re really lucky).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It boils down to this, although every guy I’ve ever dated has said “I don’t play games, I don’t like games” &lt;strong&gt;they All play games&lt;/strong&gt;. Dating is a game; it’s relationships that are work. So I suggest always having fun with dating but remember that men do have feelings too (especially the overly emotional ones) so be nice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-6691389287937924392?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/6691389287937924392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/little-competition-is-healthy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/6691389287937924392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/6691389287937924392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/little-competition-is-healthy.html' title='A Little Competition is Healthy…'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-1657908397478100785</id><published>2010-02-08T10:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-08T10:38:29.170-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thank You!!!</title><content type='html'>I’m so humbled by the response my blog is getting and the number of page hits I’ve gotten in the few short days that I’ve been writing.&lt;br /&gt;Thank you everyone for your support and for reading about my life as a bachelorette.&lt;br /&gt;I appreciate your feedback and welcome suggestions for topics.&lt;br /&gt;You can email me at &lt;a href="mailto:beccathebachelorette@gmail.com"&gt;beccathebachelorette@gmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Thank you again!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Becca&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-1657908397478100785?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/1657908397478100785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/thank-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/1657908397478100785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/1657908397478100785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/thank-you.html' title='Thank You!!!'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-1818913252090855659</id><published>2010-02-07T22:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-07T23:28:35.311-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I love you...but I love my Manolos more...</title><content type='html'>I have a type – stiletto and 4½ inches. There’s no faster way to lower your BMI number then to throw on a pair of heels. I can’t pinpoint exactly when wearing heels became an everyday thing for me, but I couldn’t live without them now. The odd time I’m in flats I always get “whoa, you’re a lot shorter than you seem”. Truth be told, I’m not that short – I’m 5’6”, but when people see you walking around every day at 5’10½” they forget you’re not actually that tall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here’s where my height restriction comes in- guys 5’10” and below, need not apply. I can’t date a guy that’s shorter than me; I am an admitted height snob. I do realize that I’m only 5’6” and the heels can come off, I’m not delusional. But here’s the problem; if I dated someone that was say 5’8” for example, sure, in runners when we stood beside each other, totally fine. We could have wonderful dates of nature hikes (fyi- most things that live outdoors, scares the hell out of me) and whatever else it is that people [who wear running shoes on dates] do. But what happens when we have to go to a fancy dinner? I’m in a dress that absolutely requires heels and suddenly I’m Nicole Kidman to his Tom Cruise. Every picture taken would be of me trying to crouch, so as not to appear taller than him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you see? It simply doesn’t work for me. I’m not saying I need the guy to be a giant, but he absolutely must be over 5’11” (and handsome...and funny...and be ok with being written about in a blog).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-1818913252090855659?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/1818913252090855659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-love-youbut-i-love-my-manolos-more.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/1818913252090855659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/1818913252090855659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-love-youbut-i-love-my-manolos-more.html' title='I love you...but I love my Manolos more...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-6593999314225604913</id><published>2010-02-05T14:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T17:48:30.004-08:00</updated><title type='text'>No, you can’t cry on my shoulder; I’m wearing silk…</title><content type='html'>I’ll be honest; I’m not the most emotional person in the world. I’ll get loud, I may get frustrated occasionally, but emotional I am not. I like to think it’s the delightful mix of supplements (full of “naturally occurring” caffeine) and Ritalin that keep me in my happy disposition. But there seems to suddenly be an epidemic of overly emotional men.&lt;br /&gt;I’m not talking about sensitive; if a guy can appreciate how adorable a puppy is, or adopts an orphan in Africa off TV, I get that. I’m talking about the secure confident males that are being replaced with insecure, overly emotional males.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently I was to go on a date with a grown, 35 year old man. He had to reschedule our date, to which my response was “of course, no worries” because really it’s not a big deal. So when I had to do the same thing to him a few days later, imagine my shock to receive a message back saying; &lt;strong&gt;“Omg! I’m sooooooooo sad!”&lt;/strong&gt; - That by the way is not an exaggeration – there really were nine o’s on that so.&lt;br /&gt;My friend Valerie was dating a guy, who was a little insecure, but he was cute and nice so she was ok with it. That is until the day he lost it in public. They got into a light argument downtown, nothing of real importance, really no big deal. Then out of no where he started bawling; tears, hyperventilating the whole 9 yards. In public!&lt;br /&gt;Another friend told me she had 2 of her male friends crying in her arms over their ex-girlfriends in the same month.&lt;br /&gt;And yet another friend who said her date started crying during Extreme Home Makeover (in all fairness to him, sometimes that can be justified; those terminal kids are just so damn cute).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Call me old fashioned, but I like my men to be just that; men. I want to know that if something jumps out of the bushes, you’re not going to use me as a shield.&lt;br /&gt;So the next time a man starts to get overly emotional, just look deep into his eyes and say what we've heard for decades; “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-6593999314225604913?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/6593999314225604913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/no-you-cant-cry-on-my-shoulder-im.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/6593999314225604913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/6593999314225604913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/no-you-cant-cry-on-my-shoulder-im.html' title='No, you can’t cry on my shoulder; I’m wearing silk…'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-37455727868547463</id><published>2010-02-05T00:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T09:39:05.244-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello, its effort calling...</title><content type='html'>As I start to plan a wonderful Valentines Day for me and my long time lover; Jose Cuervo, I can’t help but point out what little effort people are putting in when it comes to actually asking a person out lately.&lt;br /&gt;I started a new rule a while ago that I would only go out on a date with a guy if he actually picked up the phone to call me. Nothing is worse then getting a text message asking you out on a date. If you can’t put the effort in to pick up the phone, then why would I put the effort in to go out with you?&lt;br /&gt;Most recently I had given my number to a guy, who in turn kept asking me out over text message for 3 weeks straight. He said he usually wasn’t so persistent but there was something special about me. However, as special as I may be to him, not once did he attempt to have a real conversation with me.&lt;br /&gt;We all spend so much of our day emailing, facebooking, tweeting, instant messaging, text messaging and bbm-ing. I have to ask; when it comes to trying to actually make a connection with someone, why would you want it to be so impersonal?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Below are some of the text messages I’ve got recently;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;11:25pm: Hey Rebecca, You free tomorrow night?&lt;/strong&gt; – Sorry, my phone doesn’t answer male desperation past 10pm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hey Rebecca, if you let me take you out, it will be great!&lt;/strong&gt; – He sure was optimistic!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Have you see Avatar?? I’d like to take you&lt;/strong&gt; – x4 in the last month. And no, I don’t want to spend 3 hours beside you, in the dark. I've never had a conversation with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;It’s Tom, we met the other night at Amy’s. Do you want to come to a magic show with me on Thursday?&lt;/strong&gt; – I mean at least he was original, in a weird pedophile type of way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then sometimes I just mess with them...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hey it’s Alex from the other night, did you want to go out sometime?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Who?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Alex, we met at the pub.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Are you just a bit taller then me, with blonde hair?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;No, I’m 6’2” with dark hair.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I don’t remember you, but you sound better looking then the other guy. Send me a picture without your shirt on, holding a puppy?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oddly enough i didn't hear from Alex again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-37455727868547463?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/37455727868547463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/hello-its-effort-calling.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/37455727868547463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/37455727868547463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/hello-its-effort-calling.html' title='Hello, its effort calling...'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-3471775151898945112</id><published>2010-02-04T13:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-04T13:36:00.360-08:00</updated><title type='text'>When “playing crazy” on a date goes wrong…</title><content type='html'>I was on a date recently, and I will begin by saying there was nothing terribly wrong with this guy, but he was nowhere close to my type. This was a setup from a mutual friend, and although I generally don’t agree to setups, he sounded very promising.&lt;br /&gt;About 20minutes into the date I could tell there wouldn’t be a second date. To avoid having to turn him down later, when he would inevitably phone for the second date, I decided to have some fun to make sure he wouldn’t want a second date with me.&lt;br /&gt;I’m a very convincing person, it’s not by accident I received a 93% in Acting in grade 12. So I put on my serious face over the beautiful candlelit table, looked him right in the eye and asked “Are you worried about dying alone? I am. I mean not totally alone, I’ll have cats, but you know what I mean?” He told me he was sure I wont die alone (obviously I wont, he may though) and politely changed the topic.&lt;br /&gt;He started telling me how he pays off his credit card statement in full every month because it’s very important. So I told him that I loooove to shop, uncontrollably, all the time. I told him I max out my credit cards but its ok, because they just keep increasing my limit. He asked if I was a “minimum payment” type. To which I answered “yes, well I certainly try, but I always seem to spend the money on alcohol before I can pay my Visa.” Then tilted my head to the left and smiled. He seemed a little confused and asked if I drank a lot; “oh, well, no, I wouldn’t say a lot, I mean I blackout a lot, but I only drink every weekend.”&lt;br /&gt;God bless him, trying again to change the topic, he asked what my favorite car is. “I don’t like cars. I like shoes.” So he asked what my favorite shoe is. At this point I leaned in, with a very serious look on my face and whispered “I can’t tell you, because the other shoes will get jealous.” Then I flared my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;Here’s where “playing crazy” goes wrong; he wasn’t running for the hills, in fact, he was having a good time. Dinner was over and I was trying to make my polite exit, he said he wanted to walk me home; I declined and said I was going to the drug store first. He asked if he could come with me… I told him no. So when I tried to say goodbye to him at the drug store, he told me he would wait outside for me until I finished shopping. This is where London Drugs failed me, because they had no other exit that I could use that wouldn’t set off the fire alarm. And so, indeed he was still waiting for me outside, and even though I told him several times that it was not necessary for him to walk me home, he did anyway. While walking he said “don’t you feel so much safer with me?” the answer was no, I felt safer with my personal alarm. But I told him “yes, because the attackers would go for you first, so I would have time to get away.” I got home, patted him on the shoulder and ran inside.&lt;br /&gt;Not only did I get a text message that same night saying what wonderful company I was, and that he wanted to hang out again that weekend, but he also called me on Sunday evening.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, despite one’s best efforts to sabotage a date; having to reject someone is inevitable.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-3471775151898945112?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/3471775151898945112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/when-playing-crazy-on-date-goes-wrong.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/3471775151898945112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/3471775151898945112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/when-playing-crazy-on-date-goes-wrong.html' title='When “playing crazy” on a date goes wrong…'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1610280213327147402.post-2050837057223464971</id><published>2010-02-04T13:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-04T13:23:13.492-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Because not every girl wants to be engaged at 22…</title><content type='html'>My sister is 24 and getting married; she’s been engaged for 2 years and has been with the groom since she was 17. It’s a good thing; I’m a huge fan of the groom.&lt;br /&gt;My sister and I are pretty much day and night, although we look alike, that’s where a lot of the similarities stop.&lt;br /&gt;Being in my early 20's a long term relationship is the last thing on my list of what I’m looking for. I love being single, I really do, I’m good at it. Why would I give up something I love? Not to mention the stories I get from the dates I go on are actually priceless.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1610280213327147402-2050837057223464971?l=beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/feeds/2050837057223464971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/because-not-every-girl-wants-to-be.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/2050837057223464971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1610280213327147402/posts/default/2050837057223464971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://beccathebachelorette.blogspot.com/2010/02/because-not-every-girl-wants-to-be.html' title='Because not every girl wants to be engaged at 22…'/><author><name>Becca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01720618928746353284</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
