It's Official

And since it segues nicely from my last post (which I wrote seemingly forever ago), I'll let good ole' Facebook do the honors:

"Saul is no longer listed as single."

No, it doesn't say, "in a relationship," but for me, the important part is that I'm no longer single. What am I? It's still somewhat up in the air. The boy/girlfriend words were tossed around a bit over the weekend (mostly by Frenchy's roommate), but the two of us did agree that we were no longer single.

She also (finally) told her parents about me over the weekend, which, according to her, is a major step. I'm told they tend to play a never-ending game of 20 questions when it comes to her dating life, and she'd thusly held off from telling them about me for as long as she possibly could. Apparently, they were in shock that she's decided to date a non-New Yorker. Meanwhile, I'm somewhat in shock that I'm probably going to meet someone's parents in the near future. It's been a looong time.

But perhaps the biggest sign of our progress towards a relationship was the fact that we finally participated in condom-less sex, after six weeks of spending almost every night together. For me, and I think for her as well, it marked something of an unspoken agreement that we are committed to each other, and no longer sleeping with other people. Not to mention, I don't have to carry around rubbers anymore. Yeeeee haw (yep... that's me going bareback, folks)!

So there you have it. After approximately 25 months since I was forcibly removed from the apartment I shared with the Ex (who, oh by the way, recently got engaged), and two (very successful?) versions of this blog, Saul Hammerstein has officially found... (insert here: a new girlfriend/more sex than I could have possibly imagined/a really cute girl/dare I say... love?), well... let's just say I've found something really good! And man, I'm pumped!

So while I'm not officially retiring, and I'd still like to continue writing about dating, sex and girls in the abstract, there will be no more posts about my love life for the foreseeable, and hopefully distant, future.

I'd like to thank you all for sticking by me for the last two years; I think we all can agree that it was one helluva ride. So here's to you guys, the readers, because there'd be no blog without anyone reading it.

And remember, whenever you're in a pinch, and you can't figure out whether you should go home with that hot (or even not-so-hot) person that's been buying you drinks all night, just think to yourself... What Would Saul Do?

Friday Tidbits: On Playing the Numbers and Making it Official

What can I say... I just couldn't stay away for too long. It helps when articles abound that I enjoy talking about, especially when one is incredibly apropos to my current situation with Ms. Frenchy.

First up? Some important dating info for all you silly singles out there. Aww, I'm just playing. I still consider myself single too (sorta), and after the last two years of my life, I'd never, ever stoop to making fun of single people anyway. Take it from me... ya'll have no idea how good single people have it. It's just that the grass is always greener...

Anyhow, my esteemed colleague, Mr. Stone, whose life would possibly fall into a state of disrepair were this blog to go the way of the Edsel, passed this little ditty along from Gawker's website. As you can see from the map, the Northeast Corridor is clearly the place to be for single men, attesting to my incredibly powers of foresight for not only moving to Washington, DC (widely recognized as the easiest city in the country to score a one night stand), but for then shrewdly moving to New York, thereby giving myself a backup plan in case the Ex ever decided it'd be best for us to split up. I mean, who could've guessed she'd ever get rid of me (especially considering the slew of said one night stands!)?

I'd also like to point out that were I not so stubborn (and actually getting along with the parentals), I could also seemingly have done quite well in my beloved ATL, where the women are both plentiful and bountiful, and I could rent my own two bedroom condo for half the price I pay for my tiny room in a shared two bedroom up here. What kind I say? I'm a sucker for Jappy Long Island girls, and pizza at 4:00am ;-)

Basically, single girls are a dime a dozen east of the Mississippi, which may be why guys are so reluctant to settle down here. There's seemingly always a good chance that something better will come along sooner rather than later.

On the other hand, there seems to be a dearth of single girls out west. Some of that I get. I mean, Las Vegas is a guy's playground, so I can understand why a single girl wouldn't drop everything to move there. And being a guy is definitely more conducive to being a ski bum, which would explain why there are so many guys inhabiting the Denver area, and also why my girl Ruth had the year of her life when she lived in Vail.

But what's with Southern California? Where are the single girls?

The article makes an interesting point: that being that men are likely to uproot and move for economic opportunity. And right now, the majority of economic opportunity is out west. I, of course, moved to New York not for the economics, but for a girl; let's be honest here, I clearly value the "social" opportunities more than the economic ones, anyway.

According to the article, girls are more likely to move where the eligible men are, and the smart ones are choosy, which is why they stay single. Hey, that makes all the sense in the world, but if girls were really that smart, they'd stop all moving to New York, because clearly, something here's not working for them.

I will say this... I have an inordinate amount of girl friends who constantly complain that there are no good single men in New York, and I've never understood it before, because how can there not be a million guys here? I now know that these girls are, in fact, correct; then again, I now have an answer for their complaints. "Get thee to Los Angeles!"

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On the totally opposite end of the spectrum, I found this article on CNN.com, which explains that amongst our generation, Facebook has become the ultimate say in whether or not a relationship is official. I happened to love this article, because in my mind, it's sorta true.

I mean, sure, I could go around telling people that my thing with Frenchy is official (it's not... yet), but once it's up on that website, for all to see, there's really no hiding it. Before facebook, I could meet a girl, make up my relationship status as I went along, and there'd be nothing for the girl to do but take me at my word (yes, I know I'm a sick individual). But once that shit's on Facebook, it's out there for all to see. You tell someone you're single, and a girl checks you out and discovers that, lo, you're in a relationship, well, there's a damn good chance you'll actually be single very shortly. To further this point, Mr. Stone finally made it official with his new lady on Facebook today, after two weeks during which, really, only his close friends knew that he had a girlfriend. Now, everybody knows. So here's a hearty Mazal Tov to Mr. Stone!

The reason I find this article particularly fascinating is because of where I'm at with Frenchy at the moment. At this point, the only night we haven't spent together in the last two weeks was on Tuesday, and on Wednesday she asked me when we were hanging out again. But at this juncture, both of our respective Facebook pages still let everyone know that we are "single." And I can't help but wonder if/when that will change (nor can I believe that I'm actually sounding like this!).

I once met a girl who wrote a blog similar to this one, except it wasn't anonymous and took itself waaay too seriously (no semblance of humor whatsoever... excellent grammar, though!). I bring it up because she had a great little phrase for figuring out where things stand between two people... that being "DTR, or defining the relationship." Anyhow, I feel like that's where I'm at with Frenchy, except that I'm absolutely petrified of bringing up the "conversation." At this point, it's not even that I want to stay single, because I'm quite certain at this point that I'd have no problem calling Frenchy my girlfriend. I just haven't been involved in this kind of situation in six years, and simply feel a little awkward about bringing it up. While I'm pretty sure she'd be receptive, do I know that for sure? Absolutely not.

So, for the time being, I guess we're keeping ourselves "single" as far as Facebook goes. But if we ever do have the talk, well, then you can bet you'll all see it for sure when it's permanently etched on Facebook!

No, I'm Not Dead

But I am seemingly getting ever closer to having an official girlfriend, and boy, you know have no idea how much my crew reveled in calling me out about it last night at my birthday dinner (at which Frenchy was absent).

I won't get too much into it today, but the weekend was great. I spent the vast majority of my time with Frenchy, and from what I remember (which admittedly isn't much), she handled herself very well in a very tough situation at my party on Saturday. Then on Sunday, we literally spent the whole day together, with her doing work :-(, and myself watching sports :-). It was a very "couple" kind of day.

Moreover, despite the fact that she got home very late last night, she still wanted me to come over after my birthday dinner, an invitation which I happily accepted. Hey... I like the girl!

I don't know when we'll have the talk, or anything like that, but in the meantime, I've vacillated (yeah, I said it... bite me!) on how comfortable I am in continuing to write about her. It's just seems like an inauspicious way to start a potential relationship.

So barring any crazy unforeseen circumstances, I don't imagine there are gonna be too many more personal tales for the time being. What's that mean for the Annals? I really couldn't tell you for sure. I may have to rely more on my readers... if you guys like, I'll accept some reader submissions if any of you guys are feeling saucy, and maybe, if some of you female readers want to get inside the head of a mid-20s guy, I'll even do some dating Q&A. Other than that, I guess I'll be scouring the tabloids and internet for those sexy stories that I love commenting on, and we'll see if we can't at least keep the Annals going in some form or fashion.

If any of you care to reach me, you can feel free to comment, or drop me a note/story/question/whatever at saulhammerstein@hotmail.com. Talk to ya'll soon!

Tidbits: On Ugliness and Contraceptives

Just thought I'd share a couple interesting articles I've found over the last few days...

According to an article that appeared in yesterday's New York Daily News, couples that feature a girl who's significantly better looking than the guy generally end up lasting longer and being happier. And I'm not just talking about the men here. Women end up being happier too!

While some of my female friends are admittedly depressed about this statistical study, it makes perfect sense to me. Think about how your average guy's brain works. If you take a beautiful man, and pair him with a less attractive woman, he's typically going to be forever thinking that he could've done better. Every time he passes a stunningly attractive woman in the street, he's going to tell himself that's the kind of girl he should be with. It doesn't matter that his current lover has the best personality this side of the Mississippi, he's gonna be wishing he had a better looking girl. Guys tend to gravitate towards the aesthetically pleasing, after all.

On the other hand, if you take a guy and put him with a girl far superior in the looks department, your average guy is gonna do whatever he can to hold on for dear life. Most guys that are dating girls whom should be out of their league, looks-wise, are aware of it, and will therefore be the doting, affectionate lovers that every girl's looking for; they'd undoubtedly treat their girls like the gorgeous queens they are. And you can forget about straying... what guy would risk destroying something he already has with a super hot girl?

Perhaps I'm naive about this whole dynamic, but it seems to make perfect sense to me. I'm sure this comes to the chagrin of the ladies out there, but man, its stories like these that give hope to pot-bellied bald men everywhere!

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Here's another good one. Apparently, developers are close to releasing a new type of birth control pill. The catch? It's a pill for men. I've actually discussed this at length with any number of people over the last few days, including Frenchy, and the general consensus is that no guy would ever submit to taking the pill. And my response is, why wouldn't they? I mean, provided there aren't any crazy side effects, it seems to me that a pill for guys would be an incredible way to remove the necessity for condoms, provided both sexual participants are free from disease. No more worrying about if you need to pick up the quick pack of rubbers because the girl may or may not be on the pill. Now, the guy can just be on his version and nip that whole thing in the bud.

And so far, there doesn't seem to be any adverse side effects, other than the occasional weight gain (can't you just see guys complaining to each other about how bloated they are?). I'm telling you right now... they actually come out with this thing and its proven to be safe, and of course, reversible? I'm in.

By the way, how about this quote from one of the test cases... "It is time for men to have some control. I think it would empower men and deter some women out there from their nefarious plans. Some women are out there to use men to get pregnant." Hate to think about what must have happened to THAT guy!

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And finally on a personal level, I've spent both of the last two nights with Frenchy, as we move ever closer towards (gasp!) monogamy. Could it be? Who knows... but I like spending time with her, and perhaps more importantly, I get that feeling in my gut when I think about her. And it IS her, not just the fact that she has perhaps the most squeezable ass that I've ever familiarized myself with. Mmmm. She's just so cute and endearing. For example... I believe I've told you that she basically can't fall asleep without the TV, which I hate, although I'm getting used to it. She knows I hate it and she feels bad, so the other night, she literally got out of bed, and came back five minutes later with her video Ipod, so she could watch episodes of 24 while allowing me to sleep in peace. Honestly, it was adorable.

The big step comes this weekend. I'm having a birthday party which she's planning on attending, and it will basically mark the first time in two years that all of my friends will have met one of my girls. Not to say that my girls and friends have never crossed paths before; Stone knows the BB pretty well, and Dr. G was fortunate enough to meet the BG back in 2006. But for the most part, as I've said before, I don't mix business with pleasure. Well, that's all ending on Saturday, and I'm both excited and freaked out of my mind. I'm not expecting my friends to fawn over her, because I imagine she'll be at least slightly intimidated and shy. But here's hoping that they don't universally think she's awful, because that just wouldn't be good for anyone. I'll say this... it should be a very interesting weekend update come Monday!

The G Word?

Not that it should come as a big surprise, but Las Vegas completely wore me out. Nine hours of sleep over three nights will do that to a person. And while I was able to finagle my way out of taking the red-eye home on Sunday night, I still didn't arrive back at my place until well after 1:00am, and didn't come anywhere close to getting the sleep I needed to catch up.

Yet despite the fact that I was engaged in a fight to the death with my eyes to keep them open, all I wanted to do last night was hang out with Frenchy. I don't want to go as far as to say that I missed her, but she was definitely dancing through my head for much of the weekend. Even so, I wasn't about to make the first move, in part because I don't want to seem to pushy and act like I need/want to see her every night, and in part because I wanted to see if she felt comfortable enough to initiate the plans for a change. Fortunately, she does, in fact, appear comfortable enough, as evidenced by her invitation to come over last night in order to partake in every guy's favorite activity: watching the season premiere of The Hills! Yes, I jest, but in all honesty, I probably derive far more pleasure from watching that show than I should, even if most of it stems from the fact that I just can't help but laugh at the village idiot that is Spencer.

On the downside (lest you all think that being forced to watch the show was the downside), we were made to hang out with Frenchy's roommate and some guy, in order to act as a buffer while they got to know each other. I haven't ranted on this before, but Frenchy's roommate is sort of a painful person to be around. She simply epitomizes Jap, and makes no bones about the fact that she's actively looking for that successful Jew to take care of her for the rest of her life. And it's one comment after another. You should've seen the look she gave me when I told the girls how much money I'd won in Vegas, after telling them that I'd won pretty big. I might as well have won 10 bucks. Later on, she was talking about one of her friends who just got engaged, and said the following, verbatim: "So and so is getting married... 3.1 carats!!! And they've been together for less than a year." I wanted to vomit and shoot myself at the same time. The size of the ring is really the first thing you mention about your friend getting married? Really? Gag me. Thankfully, Frenchy didn't respond... the more I get to know her, the less Jappy I find her. Yes, she's got the pedigree, ie being from Long Island, and living in what's gotta be the most stereotypically Jappy building in Manhattan. But she doesn't seem to fully buy into the whole thing, and I find her laid back attitude to be quite endearing.

Anyhow, both of us grew pretty exhausted as the night wore on (there is little as mentally taxing as The Hills, after all), and we went to bed almost as soon as the show ended. But not to sleep, of course... she doesn't sleep, and my sexual appetite is somewhat insatiable at the moment. Luckily, hers seems pretty vibrant as well, and we went at it with reckless abandon before I finally passed out due to sheer and utter exhaustion.

It's a good thing too, because, like clockwork, those multiple alarms started going off at 7:00am on the dot. But give me some credit here... at least I convinced her before we went to bed to extend the snooze on her phone to 10 minutes instead of a lonely one. Moreover, I tried a new strategy this morning, and it worked so well that I think I'm gonna make it my new go-to whenever I stay over with her on the weeknights. Namely, initiating morning sex! Her problem is actively waking up and getting out of bed, and I'll be damned if she's not going to be awake enough to at least stand up and use the bathroom after a round in the sack. Plus, as soon as we started going at it, she turned all the alarms off, giving us quiet peace until we were done. Oh yes... morning sex is the new alarm clock. Score!

Now, for the introspective stuff. The Bostonian asked me this morning if I was ready to call Frenchy my girlfriend, and I sorta freaked out. The G word? I don't think I'm anywhere close to being ready for that. But at the same time, I don't really have the desire at this juncture to go out and find the next girl, which has seemingly been my M-O forever. The good thing is that I don't think I'll need to make any real moves on this for awhile. I don't see her as the type of girl who's apt to bring up the conversation, at least not any time soon, and we all know that I certainly won't be the one to push this thing towards serious monogamy. So we'll see. At any rate, I'm almost certain that she'll finally meet all my friends at my party this weekend, which both excites and frightens the bejesus out of me at the same time. I guess we'll just have to see how it goes.

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The unfortunate casualty in all this is the Latina. Yes, she's bothering the shit out of me, but I think I'm being harder on her because of how well I think things are going with Frenchy. She asked me today when we were going to get together this week, and I told her that I was unfortunately booked. It's an entirely true statement, and doesn't even include seeing Frenchy, or any other girl for that matter. But she obviously assumes that I don't want to see her, and tells me so. Man, I hate that. Almost as much as I hate when she tells me to call her later. I hate using the phone to call my parents, much less a girl that I don't particularly want to talk to anyway. Hopefully, if and when I do ultimately talk to her, it'll be for no other reason than to tell her "goodbye, good luck, good seein ya!"

Weekend Update - Vegas, Baby!

The saying goes that whatever happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, but given that nothing that happens with me stays with me, I don't see why a weekend in Las Vegas should be any different. Let's be honest here... it's not like I did anything spectacularly crazy anyway. There was no sex, and short of a few random encounters, nothing particularly of substance as far as the female gender goes.

Why? For one, between basketball and gambling, I really didn't leave much time for matters of the heart (read: penis), and furthermore, I found myself spending a considerably larger amount of time thinking about Frenchy then I ever thought I would've. But ya'll don't come to this blog to read about my brackets or my gambling (suffice it to say that I was able to pay for the whole trip in cash, and will be living solely off of winnings probably at least until Memorial Day), so let me do the best that I can to give you the good stuff.

While we stayed up ridiculously late on Thursday, especially for a bunch of guys who were coming from the East Coast, the trip really didn't start in earnest until Friday, when we spent the whole day vacillating between the Sportsbook and the casino tables. The guys that I went with were generally far more interested in the games than the cards, but despite my affinity for basketball, I absolutely refuse to bet on sports; on the other hand, I could sit at a card table for hours, and that's precisely what I did.

Yeah, too much gambling talk already. For whatever reason, the group of guys I was with were on the whole not that interested in the party scene, opting to smoke, chill, drink and gamble as the hours passed into the night. However, one of the guys, MJ, who I'd only met once before at his birthday party back in January, was into partying, and he and I set off trying to get into Tao, a super-swanky club located in the Venetian, where we were staying. As you can imagine, us two single guys had about as much chances of getting inside as I have of getting laid by Scarlett Johansson. Use your own imaginations.

Luckily, one of my good buddies from Los Angeles, Miggs, was also in Vegas over the weekend, and it just so happens that he was staying at the Venetian as well. Moreover, dudes got contacts. As he was already inside the club, he quickly came out and got MJ and I, and we were off to the races.

Tao itself was pretty cool... it was really big, and sort of had the feel of the nightclubs we hit up during spring break in Acapulco. It also featured an outdoor area that I thought was particularly cool, complete with private cabanas and heating lamps. Also featured were the scantily clad waitress and dancers, as well as two almost naked girls hanging out by the upstairs entrance who's only responsibility, as far as I could tell, was to massage each other. I got not problem with that in theory; in practice, however, the girls were placed in a very crowded walkway, making it near impossible for any ogling to occur. And really, what's the point have having naked bitches massage each other if you're not going to be able to ogle them?

Anyhow, while Miggs had been in a relationship when I last saw him a year ago, he's been single for about six months. And apparently, he's really into those "get girls" books, such as The Game. I mean, really into them. As soon as we procured our first drink, he started laying down the rules, as he came to learn them. There was, "if you make eye contact with a girl, you have three seconds to approach her," although he was stumped when I asked him if that included girls who's eye you caught that you had no interest in approaching in the first place. There was also, "never look bored, and never keep your hands in your pockets." Seems sort of common sensical to me... I mean, if you're bored, shouldn't that be your cue to leave anyway? But you know, there's some guy out there who got a lot of money by telling guys in a book to never seem bored at a club, so hey, more power to him.

And I'll tell you what, more power to Miggs too, because he had no reservations whatsoever about approaching all these random girls. And on that Friday, not long after explaining the rules to us, he and his buddy had moved in on a pair and girls, and MJ and I went downstairs to take in the sights and drink some more. Eventually, we left the club and hit the tables again, stopping only to hit on a trio of fairly drunk, just-turned 21 year olds from Boise, Idaho, of all places. I thought they were all pretty cute (MJ wasn't so much in agreement), but they were exceedingly dumb, and not at all talkative. Perhaps it was because, as I found out later, they were tired of being hit on by every single guy still in the casino at 4:00am. Either way, it didn't matter in the slightest to MJ and I, because we sat down at a table right after meeting them, and in twenty minutes, both stood up after each winning a sizable chunk of change.

Saturday was somewhat more exciting, and not just because I won the equivalent of my bi-monthly paycheck in just over three hours. Once again, we were of the mind to go to Tao, and once again, we were stuck on the outside looking in. How bad was it? I was reeeally close to buying a table, which would have been ridiculously expensive and not at all worth it, as the table they would have given us would've undoubtedly been in schlabookyville. And so, while we waited for something to come us, we hung out by the bar in the casino, and MJ proceeded to get hit on by an older women. Sort of. She was definitely hitting on him, ostensibly to prove that she still had it, while simultaneously flashing her rock at the both of us like it was the biggest thing to hit Vegas since Celine Dion came to town. It was pretty weird, all the way around.

However, after mulling around until 1:45 or so, we did manage to finagle our way back into Tao. And after finding Miggs, I started buying the world drinks, as I was flying high off of my stupendous day at the tables. Meanwhile, Miggs started chatting up this ridiculously hot girl, whose obviously fake tits were literally spilling out of the top, sides, and even bottom of her little tube top dress thing that she was wearing. And they were absolutely hitting it off, too, until Miggs said something that obviously turned her off, and she shunned him as if he were a leper. Obviously, I inquired as to what he said. Turns out that she was a model, and upon hearing this, Miggs asked her, "what... a hand model?" While I burst out laughing upon hearing this, she obviously didn't find it so endearing. But according to The Game, you're supposed to insult the hell out of models when you meet them. Something about trying to not be impressed. Apparently, it didn't serve to impress her very much either.

After walking around for while and pounding a few more drinks, Miggs and I eventually found our way out onto the club's balcony, where we began chatting up a few girls who were in town for a friend's bachelorette party. They were cute-ish, which is to say that had we not been seriously drunk and in Las Vegas, we probably never would've given them a second glance, but they were nice enough, and right away Miggs attracted the attention of this little Asian chick, while I started conversing with this taller blond girl who had a pretty cropped haircut. We talked about the usual shit, and in this particular instance, I think I played the pretty aloof character, as I really didn't envision anything going on with her. Must have worked though, because while her friends were all set to go back to their hotel, she apparently wanted to make out with me. And you know me... I'm happy to oblige, especially when the compliments started flying my way with regularity. But alas, she ultimately decided to leave with her friends, which I really do believe was probably in everyone's best interest.

Miggs and I shared a laugh about it, and then decided it was time to go puff on a bit of the doobage. Along the way, we tried to hit on a few girls that walked past us, and eventually ended up approaching a seriously good-looking girl in a hot little yellow dress, and her seriously unattractive friend who was wearing a minidress that was about 12 sizes too small. But that didn't matter to us, because we quickly found out that not only were these girls still seniors in college, but they attended the finest institution in the country, the University of Meeeechigan! Well, you better believe THAT got our juices flowing! Fortunately, they were likewise looking to puff. Unfortunately, they were unable or unwilling to ditch a few of their guy friends to come with us, and we were forced to bring a couple dudes along. But they were from Michigan also, and members of a fraternity that I came very close to pledging myself, and so I got to hassle them for a bit, which is always fun.

We all had a pretty good time in the room. Miggs was working pretty hard on the cute girl, and so even though I was pretty sure that she was more interested in me, I sat back and watched it all unfold. And it was going pretty well, until Miggs made an unfortunate comment about Mexicans and margaritas that I thought was hysterical but the girls thought was fairly prejudiced. Meh. They left not too long afterwards, and that was pretty much that.

No, not the most exciting weekend in the world; that said, yes, it was a spectacular time. But despite it all, I was glad to be coming home. A long weekend in Vegas is more than enough time for me out there, especially when you consider that I got no more than four hours sleep on any one night. And it's time for me to rest up, because this weekend marks the beginning of the Hammerstein birthday extravaganza, which should be a helluva good time for all involved!

On Things Heating Up

For the majority of guys, the first weekend of the NCAA Tournament is just about as good as it gets. No other sporting event can come close to matching the intensity and excitement, the upsets, elation and heartbreak that hinge on every bounce. Yeah, I'm pumped. And as good as the tournament already is, it's only enhanced by the fact that another great night with Frenchy served as a lead-in to today's festivities.

I'll be honest... I'm really starting to like this girl. And slowly but surely, the more we hang out, the more she opens up. But mainly, I think we're starting to develop a nice amount of comfort between us, and that's something I haven't felt in quite some time. Part of that has gotta be due to some incredible similarities in our preferences, especially when it comes to food. We all know that I'm one of the pickiest eaters around, which often elicits consternation from the girls whom I date; your typical Jewish girl IS a foody, after all. But Frenchy likes the simple pleasures, much like myself. We went out to dinner last night and split a cheese pizza. She's made no secret of the fact that she grew up on chicken nuggets, and that McDonald's french fries are her favorite. And as she works (hard) in the vicinity, she admitted to eating at Outback Steakhouse quite a bit, which I happen to love, but sort of refuse to eat at lest I be lambasted for eating at a chain in this city of a million restaurants. My point is, it's nice that I don't feel like I have to impress her with my knowledge of fine dining or exotic cuisine, because, let's be honest here... it's non-existent.

Moreover, she's a movie and TV buff. We might not watch exactly the same shows, but I get the impression that Frenchy isn't a girl who minds spending her time chilling in front of a television somewhere. And that's my kind of girl. Last night, with nothing on and no movies of any substance currently playing in the theaters, we went back to her place (of course), and rented The Kingdom.

Sidenote - she hasn't seen my place yet, and for the most part, I don't mind at all. For one, her apartment is significantly nicer than mine is; and her bedroom TV puts mine to shame. Her room is bigger, it's cleaner, and generally speaking, it's colder, which is a big deal to me. Moreover, I've spent a lot of time there on the weeknights, and quite frankly, my work hours allow me to be far more accommodating than hers do. What I mean is, since she wakes up and heads to work long before I do, I can just go home and start my morning routine when she does, all the while getting extra sleep while she's getting ready (great in theory, but not so much in practice, which I'll get to later). Were we at my place, she'd have to get up even earlier to go home first, and I don't know, I just feel like there's no reason to make her do that. All this said, I'm hoping that at the very least, she'll express some desire to see my place next weekend.

Long sidenote... where was I? Ah yes, The Kingdom. Pretty good movie, although I can understand why it didn't do so well at the box office. Really depressing! We watched a little TV when it was over, and then followed that up with the most intense, passionate hookup session that we've had since meeting, which obviously included easily the best sex we've had as well. It was two rounds that pretty much went straight back to back, and the bed was rocking so loudly that our roommate actually had a few words for Frenchy this morning. Niiiice. Oh, and I'm totally addicted to her body... especially that ass. It's absolutely sublime.

After cuddling in front of the TV for a little while longer, we attempted to go to bed, which brings me to my one major complaint now that I've sort of gotten over the whole flat personality thing (obviously, I'm gonna have SOME issue, right?) - she's got simply atrocious sleeping habits. She goes to bed seriously late, I'm talking, never before 2:00 and often not before 3:00, and seemingly can't sleep without the noise (and light) of the television. As a guy who likes it really dark, all I can say is ughhh. But at the same time, once she's asleep, she's out. Like, dead to the world, out. And apparently, it takes the atomic bomb to serve as her alarm clock. Since we don't have those readily available, she sets multiple alarms to wake her up. There's the buzzing/beeping clock radio that goes off at 7:00am sharp, which then snoozes for ten minutes. Her phone also goes off at 7:00, emitting three buzzes and then ringing until she turns it off. But that's not the worst part. The worst part is that said phone is literally set on a snooze of one minute, and she uses it over and over and over again. I shit you not... every minute there are three buzzes, and if she doesn't press the button fast enough, a ringing phone. Every single minute. The incredible part is, she actually seems to fully fall back to sleep in these minute long intervals. I, who would get woken up by the drop of a paper clip anyway, hear all the alarms, and am constantly nudging her to either get the fuck up, or turn that shit off. Eventually, provided this thing continues along, she'll learn that I simply do not oversleep on weekday mornings and would never allow the hour to get too late before physically tossing her ass out of bed. But since we aren't there yet, I have to suffer. It's ok... I make up for it by spending the hour fondling her ass and thighs and all the other squeezable parts of her body, thereby making the best out of a bad situation.

Oh, and as a last resort, her roommate serves as her final alarm, and she's already seen my bare ass on at least two occasions from opening the door and just barging in before realizing that yeah, a guy slept over the night before.

But I can deal with all that, because the rest of it is starting to get good. Not so good, mind you, that I'm gonna be in a full fledged relationship by next week (at least I don't think), but good. In the interim, the Hammer is headed to Las Vegas this weekend, and I can only hope that the debauchery that ensues is as good as what I've been envisioning in my head... because the way things are going, let's be honest, it's possible that this could be one of my last few weekends as a free man. Hopefully, I'll have a something juicy for you in Monday's Weekend Update.

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Oh yeah... so the Latina's totally driving me crazy. We haven't seen each other, but she's borderline psychotic with the GChatting. Not that she does it so much, but she's one of those girls who'll talk, and if heaven forbid I don't respond within four seconds, she freaks out to the tune of "oh, you're busy, I feel so bad that I keep bothering you all day, you should just tell me that I'm bothering you, etc, etc, etc... talk to you later, bye." Take it easy, big fella! She's about to be 28 years old, and we've been out on two dates. Ummm, yeah, I seriously doubt there'll be a third.

Happy First Tournament Weekend, everyone... wish me luck in Sin City!!!