Thursday, December 18, 2008

Bet Your Bottom Dollar

What do you do when one male friend of yours is 100% sure another male friend is interested while you are 101% sure that particular young man is not interested?
You bet one male friend $50 that another male friend will never ever bust a move.
Voila - instant pay day! :-)


As I talked with my friends the other evening, one young man looked at me and started laughing, then said, "You remind me of Melissa Joan Hart so much right now I can't even take it!"

Do you think maybe he was accusing me of being a witch? :-)

For those of you who don't know, she is the star of "Sabrina the Teenage Witch," and my blog's namesake "Clarissa Explains it All."

Tuesday, December 16, 2008


Hello. My name is Larissa and I am a buddyaholic. I've faced this problem as long as I have been perceptive of men. I would like to say I have been sober for a few years, or even weeks, but I have not conquered this addiction.

There is one noun, which occasionally becomes a verb, that we single folks have hauntingly plastered in the forefront of our minds practically 24/7 - "Date."

Did you shudder?

I have always been highly sought after in the company of the male gender. I know, without a doubt, they adore me. How is this a problem, you ask? Anyone ever seen "My Best Friend's Wedding?" Consider me Julia Roberts. I am the proverbial best friend.

I don't blame them - little puppy dog cute, bubbly, steady supply of cookies and other victuals, social, complimentary, intelligent - of course you'd like someone like that around. I just assume men aren't interested in me and only want a temporary solution to some sort of friendship/dating woe, so naturally they want to be my buddy and nothing more - this is the err of my ways - the "buddy zone."

I was recently reprimanded by a male friend for always buddy-fying men - he claims I never even give them a chance. I fight back, "I would rather have them as a friend than nothing at all! They aren't interested and if I act like they are, they'll get weirded out and I'll lose them altogether! If a guy wants this luscious commodity, he will ask me on a date." My male friend begs to differ. I just didn't get it though. No comprehendo.

In the not-too-distant-past, however, I had the unfortunate experience of thinking a man was interested, only to realize he was just "buddy-fying" me. I felt an idiot and finally understood what I've been doing all these years.

How many men have I mistakenly placed in that zone without realizing they really were interested? How many opportunities have I wasted? (As I write this, I still find it an ever-so-illusive concept that anyone would be interested, although there is another part of me that thinks of course they would be)

I vow, here and now, to become sober from my buddyaholism - I will give all future males the benefit of the doubt before using the "F" word - just friends.

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Indecent Proposal

I have a long history of NCP - non-commital proposals.
Sunday night, history repeated itself.
I am sitting with a group of my friends, innocently enjoying the first half of "Return of the King," when I hear this charming male voice, "Larissa, will you marry me?" Huh?
Of course, I yell out, "Yes!" before I even know who requested my hand.
Then I hear another male voice, "No, she's mine!"
Then, yet a third, "No, no! She promised she's mine because I bought her a burger!"
I have a problem telling guys that if they buy me a burger, my heart is theirs forever. Oops.
I approached two of these gentlemen last night to ask if they had come to some sort of compromise. Nope. They decided a no-holds-barred rumble would be the best way to come to a victor.
The sad truth?
The only reason they vie for my hand is for my peanut butter pie and homemade oreos. They must figure marriage to me is but a small price to pay for a lifetime supply of treats.

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

My Mind is Still on Vacation

I reluctantly schlepped myself out of bed yesterday morning to face the harsh reality present before me - the time had come to return to drudgery.
I swept my hair back into an aesthetically pleasing do and carried through the rest of my morning routine feeling as if I were in some sort of foggy, mud-laden chasm. Actually, the marvel of the day was simply that I felt invigorated and ready to conquer my nemesis of a to-do list.
I arrived at work, briskly made my entrance into the department, only to loudly proclaim, "I'm an idiot!" as I set down my belongings and headed right back out the door.
Somehow, I managed to leave my work laptop at home.