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  1. Re-emerging Roxy

    January 19, 2012 by Roxy Castillo

    Wow.  It’s weird/great to be back.

     

    Since FaceBook forcibly deleted my profile, I don’t know how many of you will read this, but you all deserve to know why I dropped off the map.  A lot has happened, but I’ll keep it as short as I can.

     

    My last few posts really happened in the beginning of September, but I spaced them out through November because I didn’t know what was going to happen in my life.  Here’s what did happen…

     

    In the middle of September, my ex-fiancé came over to help me install a shelf.  No, seriously.  He came over just to install a shelf.  Right away, we agreed that we had to stop seeing each other if we wanted to move on; however, soon we were reminiscing about how, what seems like a million years ago, we wanted to have a family and teach our kids to play instruments and have a family band.  God, it’s so cheesy, but as we talked about the dreams of our past, I got all weepy because, for the first time in years, I remembered what it felt like to want to have that man’s children someday.

     

    After our emotional chat, the shelf wasn’t the only thing he screwed into the wall.

    And before he left, but while still bathing in the afterglow, I made a proposal.  Not THE proposal, but an interesting one nonetheless.  First, I made him promise NOT to give me an answer until he had thought the idea through.  Then, I proposed that we put our respective romantic situations on hold and give our legacy a real chance with the contingency that we have to give it one solid, exclusive month.  After 30 days, it should be painfully obvious wheter we have a snowball’s chance in hell of working out as a couple.

     

    When I told him that it was complicated for me to put my life on hold, he stopped short.

     

    Ex: “What do you mean, ‘complicated’?  Are you seeing someone?”

    Me: <tentatively> “Welllll, no.”

    Ex: “Ok, so are you sleeping with someone?”

    Me: <still tentatively> “Ummm, no…”

    Ex: “So, what then?  Is it a woman!?”

    Me: “Ha! No, that’s not it at all.  Ok, I’d rather tell you than have you find out from someone else.  So, it’s like this…”

     

    And I told him about The Project.  Hell no, I didn’t give him any specifics! I simply said that I had a goal of writing about going on a certain number of dates in a certain amount of time.

     

    He told me that his situation was also complicated.  In fact, his situation was “more complicated” <imagine his exaggerated sigh of self-pity>.  While I didn’t realize we were in a complication competition, I bit my tongue and listened to his story.  Turns out, he had a special lady friend who treated him well and whose heart he’d have to break <single tear> to take me up on my offer.

     

    When he finished, I reminded him not to give me an answer right away. I told him that I would support him if he wanted to give his new relationship a try, because my goal was for both of us to be happy, whatever that entails.

     

    It took a few weeks to decide, but we gave it a go.  And we are still giving it a go.  In fact, we are happier now than we ever were.

     

    Why now?

     

    1)    I think it has to do with us both moving on to a point where we can deal with each other in a way that is less resentful and less emotionally charged.

    2)    Very few of my dates were physically or emotionally satisfying.

    3)    I found myself comparing Dates to Ex.  It was always sad to make a joke that flopped with Date but to know that Ex would have thought it was hilarious.

    4)    Very shortly after Ex and I sparked it up, Roxy got her groove back!  I CAN GET MY COOKIES AGAIN!  I never wanted to admit to being such an emotional creature that I can’t separate my emotions from sex, but it’s true.

     

    Now What?

     

    Honestly, I’m not sure.  Ex and I are doing really well as a couple and I cherish that, but I still struggle with the concept of giving up on my goal.  I felt good about where The Project was going and about its potential as a platform for me to entertain and educate an audience.  I’ll admit that I even thought about fictionalizing my dates, but in the end, I couldn’t live with myself because every word of this blog is true.  Do I keep posting?  I don’t see why not, because who doesn’t love a good romance?  Now I can give you all the sappy details about my being in a relationship, all the crap it took to get here, and all the work it takes to stay here.

     

    Who knew that I would set out on such an adventure only to end up in a better, parallel version of the place I started?

     

    Oh, and I have at least two posts lined up because I have to tell you about my strictly platonic friend-dates with Tahoe and El Matador!

    Category In the Meantime | Tags: | 11 Comments

  2. D26: Dino-whore

    November 16, 2011 by Roxy Castillo

    This one started out exactly like P4 with The Pirate.  In fact, it involved The Pirate and was partially initiated with that scallywag in mind.  I took myself on a date with the idea that I might begin on a solo sail but end up with a first mate.  For that reason…

     

    **I’m interrupting this broadcast because Breakfast Boy texted me for the first time since July 16th at this exact point in my story.  Just to say hi.  It’s magical how quickly the texting stopped when I told him I was involved with someone.  Yup.  It’s true.  More on this later.**

     

    …I sailed down to the bar where The Pirate works, and guess who was, in fact, working!  He asked me to go out with him after he got off work, and that was the plan before I started a conversation with an, um, older gentleman who was also sitting alone at the bar.  By “older,” I mean to say that his best childhood friend was a triceratops, but he was fascinating, really; we chatted about all sorts of things, and I figure he must be wise because he has lived through the extinction of the dinosaurs and The Ice Ace, and I’m pretty sure he met Jesus at a party once.

     

    Voted "Best Buds" in high school.

    Anyway, we talked about religion (which he saw the inception of), health (he recommended a good fish oil, which is nerdy, but useful nonetheless), his job as a real estate broker of sorts, his wife and son in South Carolina, this blog, my relationship status(es).  We also discussed the theory that humans, like most animals, are not biologically engineered to be monogamous, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have meaningful relationships.*  Dino claims to have a wonderful relationship with his wife and that he is a devoted, caring husband who thoroughly provides for his wife and family.  He also happens to sleep with countless women across the country while he is away on business and keeps this fact from his loving wife.  *This theory does not necessarily reflect the opinion of R. Castillo and is not officially endorsed by 69 Dates.

     

    In the meantime, I consumed enough appletinis to knock out a T-Rex and agreed to go back to his hotel just to have a chat on the fancy schmancy observation deck on the 26th floor of the Hilton.  The view was amazing!  And the booze was free!  I pointed out the different regions of San Jo and he told me what it was like to ride a wooly mammoth across the Bering Straight before staff kicked us out and we went back to his room to continue our convo.

     

    Was going back to his room a rookie move?  Perhaps, but I told him that there was to be no funny business, so we had a lovely time discussing stuff I was too drunk to fully recall; however, when he tried to kiss me, I politely declined, gathered my things, and headed home.  Sorry, Dino-Whore.  I truly enjoyed our chat, but I’ve gotta draw the line at hooking up with a married guy from the Jurassic period.

    Category Dates | Tags: , , , , , , | 6 Comments

  3. D25: Salmon Slammer

    November 9, 2011 by Roxy Castillo

    D25 was my first date with both a bodybuilder and a comedian.  Seriously, a bodybuilding comedian.  Our IM session on Match was hilarious, which makes sense now, but at the time I had no idea that he gets paid to be funny.  In the occupation section of his profile, it says “we can discuss this later.”  Let’s move on to the meat of the story.  The slimy, high-protein, stinky meat of the story.

    So much man, so little chemistry.

     

    We met for coffee at the Starbucks on Second St. where he bought me a coffee and a breakfast sandwich, which was a nice gesture.  On the way in, I saw a friend of mine who knows about 69 Dates, so I gave her a wink and introduced her to Salmon Slammer.  She giggled and told me later that he was checking out my legs while I was in line.  Point for Roxy.

     

    While we waited in line, he told me stories about how amazingly funny he is and how he often uses his comedic skills to create awkward situations with strangers in public.

     

    At the table, we chatted about work and such, and when I began to eat my sandwich, he explained his specialized diet. As a personal trainer and a huge wall of muscle, Slammer has to eat 300+ grams of protein per day in order to continue building muscle, so he warned me not to be grossed and pulled out a Tupperware container.  In said container, there were two things: water sloshing around the bottom and a cylindrical plop of mashed up salmon parts.

     

    You know when, on Thanksgiving, you shake the cranberry sauce out of the can and it makes that awesomely gross shlug shlug shlug…plop noise?  And it keeps the shape of the inside of the can?  Yeah.  Well, I now know that happens with canned seafood products, too.

     

    So, while he tried his new comedy material on me (he even said things like, “Ok, I haven’t tried this one on anyone before…”), he forked chunks of what looked like wet dog food into his big, comedic mouth.  Interesting how we both used the experience for new material.

     

    I couldn’t help but wonder about the kind of woman who will accept a sushi or Italian food date with a man who always brings his own canned meat to dinner.  And what about after the dating phase?  I suppose it would be easy to fix him dinner.  “Hey, Babe.  I made you dinner.” <slides him a plate full of raw meat>

     

    So, this bodybuilding comedian walks into a Starbucks…

     

    …and never sees his date again.

    Category Dates | Tags: | 6 Comments

  4. D24: NASA Nerd (And Some Reflection**)

    October 11, 2011 by Roxy Castillo

    **Be warned: this post gets a little more emo and introspective than most.

     

    Feelings:

    I feel (yes, I have feelings) this weird sense of guilt for not looking forward to my date with NASA Nerd.  In fact, I haven’t been looking forward to most of my dates recently.  Right now, they kind of feel like work, like I just have a quota to fill.  I figured out that I feel guilty because this whole thing was my choice, and I should love the fact that attractive men with desirable qualities want to take me out.

     

    The fact is, after my mom had her heart attack, I found myself in this odd, brush-with-death type of funk, so getting dressed to go on the romantic equivalent of a job interview was not high on my list of things to do.  Then I got overwhelmed because of how far behind I got, which just made the problem worse.  All I wanted to do was watch Mad Men alone in my room.  As far as being done with the project in 6.9 months, that is just not going to happen, ladies and gents.  That’s just another of my rules that I’m willing to break.

     

    Date:

    For some reason, my date with NASA Nerd was an especially severe case of date dread, but I put on my big girl panties and met him anyway.  We met at Gordon Biersch; I swear I am keeping that place afloat these days.  Since I was in the midst of Sober September, he got a beer, and I got a veggie pizza and a frosty, disappointing glass of tap water.  Among other topics, we discussed his degree in Human Factors and Nerdomonics, I mean Ergonomics (whatever that really means), which led to his job working for NASA.

     

    He is really smart but not arrogant; however, maybe his humbleness was directly related to his bad breath, which I could smell from two feet away from his pie hole.  Maybe there is not enough room in his big brain to remember the little things like proper oral hygiene.  But on a first date?  Pop a breath mint, Sasquatch.  I wish NASA paid him in Trident Layers.

    This is what it looks like when smart guys have halitosis.

     

    While he had a better personality than I pegged him for, I remained unimpressed by the whole thing.  So, I paid the bill, held my breath while I hugged him goodbye, and went home.

    Category Dates | Tags: , , , , , , | 9 Comments

  5. El Matador Gets the Horns: The R7

    October 10, 2011 by Roxy Castillo

    What an irritating sequence of events leading to the R7!  We played phone tag for a few days before we finally talked.  On the voicemails I left, I tried to sound chipper so as not to let him know that he was dead in the water.  No one needs to know his ship is about to be blown up; the enemy’s element of surprise is key.

     

    When we did talk, we caught up a little on what we had both been up to, blah blah blah.  But at one point, I knew I had to just pull the trigger.

     

    “So, I know I’m supposed to be planning our third date, but I need to talk to you about that.  I can’t go on a third date with you…”

     

    After that, I think I blacked out.  I don’t even remember what I said.  Something about enjoying being single and not wanting to be serious with anyone.  All I know is that he sounded hurt, but he took it like a man.  A man who acts like a pansy.

     

    We went through the “let’s just be friends” spiel before he started sending me more sappy, potentially passive-aggressive texts.  I can’t help it if A) I’m a busy girl and B) I already told you nicely that I don’t want to hang out with you.

     

    The following text exchange occurred on a bad day for me, and it ensued after I refused to go salsa dancing with him in favor of sitting at home alone with a murderous heap of brownie bites and season two of Mad Men.  Too harsh?  Observe:

    Oh lordy. This is why we couldn't date. This and his tiny hands.

    Category In the Meantime | Tags: , , , , | 1 Comment

  6. D23(B): El Matador Numero Dos

    September 27, 2011 by Roxy Castillo

    Ay ya yay!  My second date with El Matador would have been a great date by anyone’s standards if only it had been with someone else.  Granted, El Mat has a career, good friends, manners, buff arms, and he doesn’t live in his mom’s basement, but he’s missing the “it factor.”  Plus, he lives over an hour away.  For me that’s long distance, which is not an option.

     

    The Date:

     

    1)    Dinner at Blowfish on Santana Row where the beautiful people go to eat raw fish and where he told me how important it is to “spoil” his lady friends.  He told me I was crazy for offering to pay for dinner.

    2)    Dancing to live salsa music at El Jardin outdoor tequila bar in the warm night air.  Que romantico! We slow danced and kissed, but I’m sure it was painfully obvious to observers (if not to El Matador) that I was not that into it.

    3)    We both had to pee, but nothing was open, so we used the bathroom at the movie theater.  Serendipitously, there was no one taking tickets, so we waltzed right into a movie.  I felt like I was back in junior high!

     

    The whole night he was opening doors, complimenting me, and paying for things. While he clearly wanted to take off my pants, I truly believe that was not his only motivation. I really think it’s because he was raised to treat women well.

     

    The Dealbreakers:

    1)    At dinner, he asked what I was looking for on Match.com.  I told him that a) after my last relationship I’m not in a hurry to put a ring on my finger, b) that I enjoy the freedom of being single, and c) for those reasons I am hesitant to get into anything serious.  He told me, in a roundabout way, that he loves having a girlfriend.  (Retreat, Roxy!  Retreat!)  At this point, Roxy is not girlfriend material, and she should have called a cab right then.

    2)    The next day, he texted me.  I was cutting my hair, so I didn’t text him back in a window of like 4 seconds, and he got all butthurt.  (Run away, Roxy!  Run away!) I can’t deal with someone who is clingy or overly sensitive.  No bueno.  Grow a pair of huevos, amigo!

    Jesus. Step back from the ledge.

    3)    He has small hands.  They kind of weird me out.  Shallow?  Maybe, but I can’t help the way I feel about his tiny little meat hooks. <shudders>

     

    I feel an R7 call coming on…

    Category Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , | 2 Comments

  7. D22(B): Hack Couldn’t Hack It

    September 22, 2011 by Roxy Castillo

    To be honest, I don’t have a great reason for meeting Hack a second time.  Really, it comes down to numbers.  A) I still have 47 dates to go and I’m way behind, and B) if the first date is moderately awkward, the second one has a high probability of being just as awkward if not more, which means it may just be interesting to read about.

     

    Regardless, Hack offered to make dinner at his house, and I accepted. I figured, hey, since he runs a local fish market that I really like, he must know his way around a piece of raw meat.  Au contraire, my friends.  He is not only a hack with his guitars; he is a hack in the kitchen.

    The baked chicken was just ok, the potatoes were waaay underdone, the red wine reduction sauce was mediocre, and the veggies were entirely forgotten about on a plate in the fridge.  I do give him points for effort, but in the end, a fully cooked chicken from the deli at Safeway would have been a more satisfying choice.  In fact, half a bag of plain Cornnuts dug out from under the seat of an abandoned ’89 Toyota Corolla would have been a more satisfying choice.  The worst part was that I wasn’t comfortable enough to make suggestive, chicken-related jokes about whether he needed help beating the meat or stuffing the hole.

     

    We forced conversation for an hour while the chicken was cooking, and when we were done eating, he showed me his collection of… wait for it… Bonsai magazines. Yes, really.  And after learning more than I ever wanted to know about the art of Bonsai (who am I kidding?  It was pretty interesting), we played the lamest game of Scrabble in recent history.

     

    Bonsai Collector: the anal-retentive, control freak version of the Cat Lady.

    I finally cut the game short because neither of us could play any tiles and because I was long since ready to go home.

     

    Seriously, the worst Scrabble game ever. I totally won.

    Fortunately, Vodka Vag was not an issue that night for two reasons: 1) after seeing his performance in the kitchen, Hack is not allowed anywhere near my precious, if not dysfunctional, lady parts, and 2) Liquor Clit is prevented by my observance of Sober September.

     

    In the end, Hack couldn’t hack it, so I will not be seeing him again.

    Category Dates | Tags: , , , , | 9 Comments

  8. D21: El Matador

    September 15, 2011 by Roxy Castillo

    I don’t call him El Matador because he is a bullfighter.  He doesn’t even wave a cape around or wear hot pink tights.  God, I hope he doesn’t!  I call him that because on our first date we went to Taco Tuesday at El Torito.  Ay ya yay!

    This is a prime example of a phenomenon I call "hungry butt." It's eating his pants!

     

    Just to switch it up and get out of San Jose, I drove all the way to Monterey to meet El Matador.  That’s over an hour’s drive, which translated into my not even offering to pay for dinner.  Here’s the deal, amigo.  If I drive, you should cover my $0.99 tacos and $3.00 margaritas for fuck’s sake.

     

    Anyway, he’s cute; short (but not too short, which is perfect for me), muscular (yum), Filipino (new for me), funny (bonus points), and a gentleman (a true door-opening, tab-paying son of a gun), and he has a career (he’s in the medical profession).

    Yup. Not too shabby.

     

    So, we ate tacos, drank margaritas, and had a good time talking.  At El Torito, two of his coworkers stopped by to say hi and left before his former roommate met up with us.  After a while, the three of us headed to The Bulldog English Pub.  There, the roommate’s crazy Costa Rican girlfriend joined us.  Then, two of Matador’s coworkers “happened” to stop by.  That was fun because I can definitely be “one of the boys” when it comes to my sense of humor.  We all drank beer and ate burgers, and he and I made out a little until closing time when we headed home.

     

    On the way home, Matador made a quick stop in a bank parking lot where two of his friends who are EMTs were posted up waiting for calls.  We barged into the ambulance and woke them up from a serious nap.  I wasn’t a math major in college, but by the end of the night, I think I counted meeting 8 of his friends. Was I being tested?  Fortunately, I got an A+.  Hell, I was star student of the month because the two dudes from the bar called Matador later asking him if I have single friends and when we can all hang out.

     

    I definitely couldn’t drive home, so I had to stay at his house.  I told him early on about my no sex rule, and I had no desire to give a blowjob (I just found out that Spellcheck will correct “blow job” into “blowjob”), but we still messed around.  I taught him how to properly pull a girl’s hair; his method was awkward.  Plus, he has small hands, so it’s all about technique for him.

     

    Guys, listen up: In effective hair pulling, the key is to run your fingers up your partner’s neck into the hair, and firmly grab a handful.  Be gentle at first; he or she will let you know if it’s too much.

     

    When it came to pleasing me, he really gave it the old college try.  I warned him about the perils of Vodka Vag, but he did his best and I still had fun making all kinds of noise.  Secretly, I also wanted to wake up his roommates just so he looked like a total manimal.

     

    He left for work at the ungodly hour of 5:30, and I stayed asleep until about 7:00.  At that point, I got dressed, made his bed, and snuck out without saying anything to his roommate who was puttering in the kitchen.  I have heard that I am since referred to as “that girl who snuck out of the house.”  Honestly, I would prefer “date ninja” or “romantic escape artist.”

     

    We definitely had a good time, so I’m looking forward to round two.

    Category Dates | Tags: , , , , , , | No Comments

  9. D20: Hack Williams

    September 14, 2011 by Roxy Castillo

    Old Hack and I done met up at Khartoum down in Campbell.  When I first saw the fella, I took notice o’ that he seems to be losin’ his hair, and on top o’ that, he was wearing a t-shirt and shorts with white socks and black house shoes.  I reckon that ain’t against the law, but I don’t recommend wearin’ house shoes when y’all first meet a lady.

    The looked just like this!

    Boys, y’all listen up: Wear shoes on a first date.  Flip-flops are one thing, but house shoes are not acceptable first date-wear.  You know your mama would whoop your cotton-pickin’ behind if you wore slippers on a first date.

     

    We had a few glasses o’ the old Colorado Kool-Aid (Coors) and chatted like a coupla old biddies.  After a while, I agreed to share a little moonshine by the name of Jameson.  This was a big deal because Mr. Jameson and I had a fallin’ out a coupla years ago on St. Paddy’s Day, and I ain’t taken too kindly to him since then.  I sipped mine instead of takin’ it in one big swaller, and finally I gave the last bit to Hack to finish for me.  By the time we were done, I had to drive him back to his place, seein’ as how he was real drunk.

    Here's a pi'ture of our shots of Jameson.

    At his place, we listened to some records in his garage ‘fore we moved inside to his room so he could play the gee-tar for me like I insisted.  This is where I got his name: Hack Williams.  Turns out, he lived in Nashville for a spell, he has a tattoo of Hank Williams I on his back, and he is a self-proclaimed “hack” when it comes to playing that old gee-tar of his.  At first, I thought he was bein’ a good boy by bein’ humble about his skills.  Nope.  Turns out he’s a true hack.

     

    I played some rhythm while he played lead, which was sorta fun.  Then at one point, I looked up at him playing that old guitar and I laughed cuz I it looked like he was makin’ his “O face.”  He was all sweaty, he had one leg up on the bed, and he was playing that guitar like he was makin’ love to it.  Don’t get me wrong; it was not a purdy sight!  It was not rhythmic and sexy; it was more jerky and rushed, but he thought he was really nailin’ it.

    Makin' love to his gee-tar.

    He took a little guitar break to smoke some wacky tobaccy while I drank a shit-ton o’ water so I could drive home.  And drive home I did, right after a disappointing version of Bobby McGee and a kiss that didn’t make my toes tingle.

     

    Well, shucks.  I reckon I may see him again just for giggles and hope that he actually wears shoes.

     

    Category Dates | Tags: , , , , | 8 Comments

  10. VB1: The Talker

    September 12, 2011 by Roxy Castillo

    Here it is: my first video blog!  It’s a “performance” of D18: The Talker.  The way that it looks makes me feel like I should have disguised my voice like on Dateline.

     

     

    Category Dates, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , | 1 Comment

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