I love D.C.   I love that its people are on average more ambitious, more intelligent, and better looking than most anywhere else.  I love the budding shoots of hip restaurants, bars and stores that randomly spring up in the least likely of places. I love the variety of neighborhoods, from the  frat boy veneer of Georgetown to the blipsters in the atlas district.  I love my neighborhood Capitol Hill.  I love that I’m in walking distance to a baseball stadium, boatyard and multiple butchers. I love that d.c. has one of the highest densities of bloggers per square inch of just about anywhere east of silicon valley. (and maybe anywhere).  I love that d.c. is not NYC.  I love seeing minor political celebrities at my drycleaners (Donna Brazile, in case you were wondering) and waiting for a cab on a corner. I love the homeless guy with the most booming, mellifluous voice you have ever heard hawking Street Sense in front of my metro stop. I love seeing the Capitol lit up on a cold January night as I stroll by Yes! Organic Market.  I love the half naked office workers splayed out in dupont circle soaking in sun, eating lunch and just listening to the beat of our city in the middle of a sizzling hot and oppressively humid August day.  I love the incredible power the words on the wall of the Lincoln Memorial never cease to hold over me every single time I visit.  I love the tourists so hepped up on patriotism and wonderment that they are nearly bursting out of their “Love It or Leave It” t-shirts.  I love being on the metro with a navy colonel, fresh out of college congressional staff assistant, mom with three kids under five and elderly tourists from Topeka all at the same time. I love the political broth in which our entire city stews. Sure it’s not perfect, but, as they say, true love is loving even the quirks and imperfections.  I can proudly and truly say that I love D.C.

I am not a fan of office gift-giving, secret santa parties, potlucks and so on.  Yesterday, we had our office “Holiday Party” and I opted out of the “yankee gift swap”. (Which because this gift swap ended up complete crap, must make “yankee” a pejoritive term, and I will forever use it as such, as in “get your fucking yankee ass off the couch.”) Though, I must admit many of my office mates seemed to be having fun at first, it turned into an incredibly tedious 45 minute exercise. With a $5 limit, 90% of the gifts were mostly lame tchochkes, melon scented candles, chocalate candies, etc.. I know, I know, it’s all about the act of giving blah blah, but I feel bad for the guy/girl that got stuck with the combo-gift of milk duds and a lame book listing “trends that won’t last into the next decade.”  The item everyone wanted was a “fondue for two” set. Because you could take someone elses item if you didn’t like your own, the same two or three items ended up going back and forth back and forth between everyone for 45 minutes. Thank god for free alcohol.

I will give credit where credit is due, I regularly view several D.C. blogs, and a post by Lemmonex that wondered why more guys don’t blog left me to pondering my own five year existence in D.C. and what I might have to say.  It just so happens that I have ample time at work to screw around, and this I felt this is a  potentially more productive avenue to do so.

This past weekend I went on a second date with a girl I met on Match.com.   The date went well and ended back at her place.  The first date, it just so happens, ended at my place and we engaged in a session of bedroom rodeo then as well.  Now, I was not going into either date expecting sex (well maybe date number two), but I was particularly charismatic and it happened.  I genuinely liked this girl and intended to continue seeing her whether or not  sex was immediately involved.  Today I received an email stating that she had noticed I had been on Match.com since our last date and she is “not comfortable with sleeping with someone who apparently is still looking for other women.” I emailed back saying that I did not realize that two dates constituted an exclusive committed relationship, and was sorry that she felt that way as I thought there was a possibility of something real.

So is this normal female behavior? Do all women expect guys to stop pursuing other women as soon as they have sex with them?