Friday, December 31, 2010

The Friday Five - New Year's Eve Edition

1) There's a party in the house - and I'm not going. Instead, I'm at my desk penning the Friday Five. Aren't I a regular party animal?

2) Speaking of animals, I hope 2011 brings me some sexy animals of the male type.

3) Wait. Make that sexy animals of the male type WHO ACTUALLY LIKE ME. I see plenty of sexy males. They just don't like me.

4) Which brings me to my next point: WTF is wrong with them?

5) Today I honestly don't care. I kind of enjoy spending NYE by myself. I have a ritual I do every NYE that I am alone - and it brings me comfort, joy and hope.

Happy New Year you guys. Thank you for your love and support this year. I wish you a happy, joyous and prosperous 2011.

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Santa Claus Came To Town

Last Wednesday (I think - at my age, the days all meld into one big glob), I drove into my carport and saw a bag near my door. I got out of the car and walked over to inspect it - inside the bag was a beautifully wrapped Christmas present. There was a gift tag that read, "To PJammy, from Santa Claus." The other side of the gift tag read, "Do not open until Christmas Eve."

Oooh! So exciting! I just love surprises!

On Thursday morning as I was packing the car with gifts and all the other paraphernalia I needed to take with me to California, I remembered the gift, and put it in the backseat. What could it be? Who could it be from? I had no idea - especially as I did not recognize the handwriting on the tag.

I made good time into California on Christmas Eve. I unpacked the car, and put the gift from Santa underneath the Christmas tree at my dad's place. My dad said, "What's that?" I said, "Look! It's a gift from Santa!" He picked it up, looked at the tag, and asked me if I knew who it was really from. I said no, I didn't recognize the handwriting. He said, wow, so someone just surprised you? I said yes!

After dinner, was over, we were sitting around talking and I said, "Oooh! It's officially night time! I can open my gift from Santa!" I ran into the living room and grabbed it. I brought it into the family room and opened it.

"What is it," my dad asked. "Pajamas," I shouted!

I think, though, Santa hasn't realized that PJammy gained a bit of weight this year, and the jammies don't quite fit over her humongous bum... still the thought behind the gift almost brought tears to my eyes. See... I told a few people this year that one thing I miss during Christmas is that I no longer have a gift to open on Christmas eve.

When we were young, my mom started the tradition of allowing us to open one gift on Christmas Eve. Mine was usually a nightgown or pajamas, and I LOVED that. I always had new jammies to wear to bed on Christmas eve, which delighted me to no end. While my brother's gifts were varied, mine always remained the same, and I loved counting on the fact that I would have a new nightgown or pajama set on Christmas Eve. My mom even continued this tradition when I was in the Army, the few times I wasn't able to make it home for Christmas. I'd receive a box with gifts, and one of them was always marked, "Open on Christmas Eve."

After my mom died last year, it seemed as if the tradition died with her as well.

The thing is, I know I told this story to a few people this year. My memory, though, is bad - and I can't quite remember who I told. I think I talked about it with some of the guys at work during one of our breakfast walks - yet I know none of them left me the gift. I also think I talked about it at some wine and appetizer get-together I went to recently, and yet I know none of them were Santa - in fact, I didn't know any of the people there, and they certainly don't know where I live. So... Santa really is a mystery to me!

The pajamas might not fit, but the thought that someone cared enough to surprise me with them warms and delights me. And heck, maybe it's the incentive I need to shed a few pounds... but that'll have to wait until Father Time gives birth to the New Year's baby. No sense rushing into things...

Friday, December 10, 2010

The Friday Five

1. I guess it must have something to do with the whole "Christmas is coming" thing, because I find myself REALLY missing my mom. A lot.

2. When blowing out candles tonight, my eyes focused on a picture of her that is one of my favorites. It's not even a particularly good picture, but I love it. I think I took it. It was some time after we had the sundeck built. I was on the patio, and my mom was on the sundeck. I know my brother was with me, but he's not in the picture. She is looking down at us, smiling and squinting in the sun. "Snap!" The picture shows her on the sundeck, and nothing but sky above her.

3. My mom loved to decorate for the holidays - all of them. Valentine's Day. St. Patrick's Day. Easter. Even New Year's. I can barely even muster putting up my tree - but I will do it.

4. Speaking of, last year my dad went all out and spent days putting up almost all of the decorations. He decorated the backyard patio. The dining room. The living room. The family room. He even remembered to put out some of the decorations my mom had specifically designated for the bathroom. It took him about a week or so. He did it for my mom. And also for me. This year, he said he's getting a tree, but that might be about it.

5. I totally get it. Mom, we miss you - and without you, just don't have the energy to go whole hog. We hope you understand.

Monday, December 06, 2010

Eat, Pray, Love

On a whim I stopped into Smith’s on the way home from a party on Saturday night. I was still kind of keyed up and thought a movie from Redbox might help calm me down enough to get to sleep.

I hit the jackpot – many of the movies I wanted to see were actually available for rental. Of course, that made my choice a little harder. What to choose…what to choose…? I decided on Eat, Pray, Love. Let me first say this: I am not a huge Julia Roberts fan, nor did I read the book. In fact, I had no desire to read the book. At all. Memoirs aren’t really my thing, but I thought perhaps in movie form the story might be compelling.

I was wrong.

I know it’s supposed to be the cool thing these days to be on the Eat, Pray, Love bandwagon. It’s all the rage. All the cool girls read the book AND saw the movie. They laughed. They cried. They grew. I so wanted to experience some of this… whatever it is. This wave that’s going through women’s groups all around me. I wanted to be able to talk about the subject with some sort of knowledge. And, believe it or not, I wanted to like the movie.

And I did not.

I am sure after reading what I am about to say, I’ll get a bunch of comments like, “You really have to read the book to get the full effect.” Let me say right here and now, no. I am not going to read the book. While I realize that movies don’t always capture the essence of a book, I saw enough to know that this woman’s “insights” were not anything I really want to read about.

For those of you not familiar (and that would probably mostly be the men on my friends list), a woman in her mid-to-late 30’s basically has a mid-life crisis. She tells her husband she doesn’t want to be married any longer, and is surprised when he is bitter during the divorce proceedings. She meets a guy, and decides he still isn’t what she’s looking for, so she packs up and goes on a trip to find herself.

First stop: Italy. This is where the “eat” part comes in. She supposedly eats her way through Italy, discovering the joy of food. Personally, I didn’t see it. I understand that the author gained weight. Julia Roberts? Nope. Stick thin. I thought I read somewhere that she gained weight for the role, but if she did, I certainly didn’t see it. Face it: Julia Roberts has *that * kind of body – she will look thin until the day she is almost 400 pounds. That’s just the facts, and she can’t fat it up for a role, no matter how much she insists she did. So did I buy it at all when her character had to shop for “fat pants”? Nope. And even when there is a shot of her lying on the floor in the dressing room trying to zip up a pair of pants, I didn’t buy it – especially since the point of the pant buying exercise was to buy a pair that would make eating more comfortable. If you have to lie on the floor to zip up a pair of pants, you will NOT be able to eat in them comfortably.

The Italy portion of the movie was probably the least irritating – and that’s not saying much. Julia Roberts’ character becomes perturbed every time an older Italian woman suggests she needs a man. And… I get it… but it becomes the running “gag” of the movie. For in each place she visits, there is some older woman insisting her life would be better if she had a man. I guess the viewer is supposed to sympathize with her, and high five her mentally when she spouts her feminist reasons as to why she doesn’t need a man. Instead, I found those moments annoying.

After Italy, she decides to waddle to India for the Pray portion. Here she lands in some sort of ashram or something – some place where basically all people do is meditate. She meets some cranky Texan who calls her “Groceries,” because of her appetite. Still… she doesn’t look fat to me. Not even chubby. Of course, Mr. Obnoxious Texan gets under her skin, and even the viewer begins to dislike him – until we get to the requisite “let’s squeeze some tears out of these women” scene. Turns out, he almost ran over his child in a drunken stupor, so he’s been meditating and working on himself. I was so touched I cried.

I lied. I knew a scene like this was coming – the whole set-up could be seen a mile away. I just really wanted it to hurry up and end so we could get to the Love part.

There was a side story of an Indian girl who was entering into a family-fixed marriage. And the Julia Roberts character was supposed to be all wise and sisterly and stuff, and I think we were to believe that because of JR, this girl was happier going into the marriage, but I dunno – that wasn’t quite pulled off, either. I mean, seriously – these little stories are just so cliché. If this woman REALLY lived this stuff, she knows how to make her life one big giant cliché after another.

We finally get to the Love part, and of course the “meet cute.” This guy runs Julia Roberts’ character off the road. She hates him, and then meets him and eventually falls for him. Because of COURSE he is sexy and sweet and everyone’s idea of the perfect man – well, almost perfect. Let’s remember he doesn’t drive well.

The love story falls flat, because while I can see why this guy is the bee’s knees, I don’t quite get what he sees in her. She whines. She pushes back. Oh WAIT. I get it now. All men like the bitch! That’s why. Okay. I should try that in real life.

So besides the fact that each portion of Eat, Pray, Love has been done to death before (and I know, this is supposed to be REAL LIFE exclamation mark), the other thing I found irritating was that she had the time and money to go “find herself.” In this economy, that luxury of self-indulgence just fell flat.

“Look at my life! It’s a disaster. I think I’ll take a year off and find myself. I’ll gorge myself in Italy. I’ll pray in India. And then I’ll fall in love in Bali! I’ll pull my hair back into a ponytail, so it looks like I’m slumming it. But really, I could go to the local salon and look like a runway model if I wanted to!”

For $1.08, it was probably worth seeing – but I sure feel sorry for you suckers who paid ten times more to see it in the theater.

Thursday, October 28, 2010

A Girl Went Into A Bar...

Well, no I didn't go into a bar. Instead, I sat down at my computer and started writing a blog entry. And it was really good, too. But I got distracted and next thing I knew, the whole entry was MISSING. Couldn't be recovered. Kind of like my life.

A few of my friends on FaceBook were first my friends on LiveJournal. I used to blog there every day. Every. Single. Day. And I pretty much did that for years - with maybe a day or two missed here and there. But after a while, I started blogging once or twice a week. And then maybe once a week. And then once a month... and now rarely.

The downhill slope started when things were just not good in my life. While blogging is a release of sorts, I started realizing that my normally funny and light blogs were heavy and depressing. And, honestly? I sometimes didn't even know what to write. My life was falling apart, and I wasn't even sure what was happening - how could I tell that story? And really, did I want to tell that story?

But LiveJournal is my first love, and while I sometimes get caught up in the fun social aspect of FB - Fairyland, status updates, YouTube clips - I miss the more tangible and heartfelt connections on LJ. So, I still blog there occasionally, and I do check in to catch up on my friends list, which brings me to the heart of this post.

Today I read a post from someone who is going through something really difficult. And I could FEEL it when I read it. I could feel her angst. Her frustration. Her sadness. Her desperation. And sadly, I could relate to it because I was in a similar place last year myself.

It's kind of like death - when someone you know loses a loved one, you murmur how sorry you are and move on. But, if you lost someone yourself, you know that pain in a different way - you are more empathetic and sympathetic. You reach out more sincerely and actively, because you just KNOW.

When I read my friend's post, with her heart so openly splayed out, I could feel her anguish from thousands of miles away. One thing she said, though, struck a different cord. She said something about how she felt too old to be going back into the world of dating. Now, friend if you're reading this I know those weren't your exact words - still, it hit me in a strange way. Why? Because I would give ANYTHING to be back in my 30's and in the dating pool.

And I know it's one of those things - because we're only in our own heads. So, a 28-year-old is newly single and thinks "Oh god, not this again! It's so much harder now." And a newly single 35-year-old thinks, "Really? I have to do this again? I thought it was all over with!" Seriously though... doing this again in your late forties? Not so much fun.

Well. Wait. I have said in the past and I still think it's true: Dating is fun. And it is. But the available pool of men is shallower. Guys in this age group think they can get a woman ten years younger than them. And, for the most part, they can. Or they are set in their ways: "if you won't go camping with me, I won't date you." Uh. Okay.Or they're damaged from past relationships, and because they don't want to be hurt again, they don't give as much this time around.

Let's just say it can be a challenge.

Quite frankly, I'm a little tired of challenges. My life has been one big challenge after another. It's never been easy - and I'm not whining about how bad my life is - honestly that's not it. I just haven't figured out how to recover from the gaffe that was my last long-term relationship.

So, I dunno... maybe this girl should walk into a bar. Who knows? Maybe I'll meet a rabbi, a priest and a minister, and then I'll have a new story to tell.


Sunday, October 17, 2010

Little Earthquakes

As the song says, "My hands are shaking and my knees are weak." Well, my hands aren't shaking, really - it's my legs. They just won't stop shaking. Saving myself for marriage probably alleviated a lot of angst along the years. I know - I didn't get married. But Mr. Kim and I were in, well, an eleven year relationship that was supposed to end in marriage - or death. But it didn't. And he was my first - therefore, the angst I had with him was, well, to be expected. And it was part of a long-term thing - which leaves me unprepared in dealing with short term things...

So, I went out into the dating world, newly single and feeling like a virgin. Believe me, this make believe virgin made a lot of mistakes. But when I met Les, I felt like I was doing something right.

From the beginning, everything he said or did indicated that he thought I was great. He liked me. He called me - sometimes twice a day. He emailed me constantly. He said all the right things. And then we had sex. And the budding relationship changed from something that could have been really great into just sex.

At first, my naivete prevented me from seeing what was happening right before my very eyes. Before Les and I had sex, he called me. Every day. Emailed me. Every day. Sometimes I heard from him twice. Or three times. Sometimes I got emails AND phone calls. But after we had sex?

Oh wait. Yes, right after we had sex, he kind of kept it up (no pun intended). But then, contact slowly ebbed away. I might not hear from him for days. And as the sex was so explosive and so wonderful, I kind of - yes I admit it - ignored some of the signs that he wasn't that into me.

But he wasn't. And today just cemented that in my brain harder and stronger than anything else he did before now.

He apparently saw me on the wine walk. I didn't see him - I was walking with my friend towards Sierra Tap House(the other witches went to Silver Peak, but neither of us like it there, so we told them we'd meet them at the Tap House). Did he come find me? No. Instead, he emailed me - not right after the wine walk - nope. He emailed me an hour ago. And did he say anything nice? Judge for yourself:

Did you have a good time on the wine walk today? I saw you once, I was in line at the sweet shop next door to the tap house. When I came out I couldn't find you and didn't see you again!I was a little surprised to see you dressed as a witch, is that for Halloween? Have a good weekend. See you soon.

I wasn't sure what to say - but being as I am running on wine, I of course had a lot to say. It began a little something like this;

It's not particularly a "Halloween" thing - it's a Black Hat Society thing. We dress up as witches for every October wine walk.

I'm a witch - if you haven't figured that out already.

Then being as I was feeling a bit, ahem, uninhibited, I went on to say that he wouldn't be seeing me soon. That it was over in my book. He didn't seem that into me. He didn't compliment me, unless we were naked - and even then it was rare. He didn't call or seem to ever want to do anything with me outside of his apartment.

I went on to tell him that I wasn't even mad at him - I took full responsibility. We had sex way too soon, and that was my fault.

Blah, blah, blah, yadda yadda yadda - you catch my drift.

His response? "Wow - well I hope you find what you are looking for."

Um, yeah, thanks buddy. You just proved it to me with that very short response - you aren't into me. At all. And, yes, I made the mistake of telling him that. To which he replied that he thinks I'm an "awesome lady," but that I could have picked up the phone to call him.

Huh? In what world does a girl chase a guy? Or rather, in what world does a girl chase a guy and it actually WORKS?

It kind of doesn't matter, because the upshot is: it's really over. And done with. And for me, there's no turning back.

As my legs were shaking after reading that last email (and why my legs, I have no idea), the phone rang. It was Les! He called to try to convince me to go out with him again. I answered eagerly: "Hello?"

"Hi Pamela - it's Eddie."

Oh. Eddie. Yeah, the guy from Winnemucca. The one I haven't seen in over a month, but who apparently still adores me. Yeah, that Eddie.

And we talked. But honestly? I was so still mulling Les-things over that I wasn't fully engaged in what he was saying - that is until he started questioning my beliefs. We started arguing - and I told him I needed to stop. It was too late, and I wasn't going to argue with him about religion or beliefs or what have you. I told him simply that he could think what he wanted about my beliefs - but he couldn't change them, nor could I ever change his.

He talked some more about how he wants to take me out next weekend, blah, blah - and I wasn't really listening. I was still worked up about the religious discussion, and I was also worked up about Les. So, we ended up saying good night, and I went back to writing this blog entry.

And the phone rang again. At 11:45 p.m.

Could it be Les? Nah, of course it was Eddie. I answered. Yep. It was Eddie.

He started saying something that made absolutely no sense to me. He said that he adored me (well, wait. That makes sense. Who wouldn't adore me?), but the part that didn't make sense was that he wanted to be sure I didn't over think things he said, and blah, blah, blah - what? Huh? I was confused. And he said he wanted me to know that even though he is talking to other girls, that I was still his first choice.

Really? Did he mention he was talking and/or seeing other women during our last phone conversation? How did I miss it? Was I honestly so into mulling over the Les-thing that I totally missed that? (of course the answer is "yes.")

I said no worries - we're grown ups. Of course we're dating other people. What did I expect? It had been over a month since I'd seen him - I figured he was seeing other people, just like I had been.

Eddie said, "What? You're dating other people?"

Um. Yes, hello.... remember? Haven't seen you for a month!

Well, now that he knows that, he REALLY wants to see me next weekend. I'll have to fit him in - I'm kind of busy next weekend. I have a costume party to go to, and a full moon ceremony to host.

But I'll fit him in. Why? Because he adores me.

I think I need a little adoration in my life right now. And really, who doesn't?

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Period. The End.

Driving home tonight, I knew it would be the last time I'd be driving home from Les' place. I went there for two reasons: One, because my pants were on fire. Two, as a test. A test he failed. A test I failed. And as this isn't a grade I want to retake, I'll take the fail gladly and move on.

When we first started getting to know each other and date, we were going like gang-busters. He couldn't get enough of me. He would call me and email me. He would make plans in advance to see me. He'd tell me he'd call, and he'd actually call.

Then we had sex.

I know I moved too soon. Believe me, I know it. But after eleven years of saying "yes" (and I know, Mr. Kim would beg to differ), I just honestly don't know how to say "no" any more. Once I'm naked, I just don't see the point of saying "no." The only words that want to fall from my lips are, "What are you waiting for? Let's get to it!"

So yes, sex on the fourth date wasn't the brightest thing I ever did in my whole life. But, he still seemed so into me. He emailed me before I got home to tell me how great it was, how great I was, how much he enjoyed himself, how much fun I was, blah, blah, blah - and I beamed with joy.

The next time garnered a similar result. But soon afterward the phone calls stopped. And the emails weren't as regular. Two days would pass, and I wouldn't hear back from him at all.

Then out of the blue he told me he had an extra wireless set-up - he'd hook me up and connect it to my Wii. He even picked up and paid for the extra cable needed. The hookup didn't work - and he came back a few days later to try it again after doing some research. It still didn't work. He took down some information, told me he'd do some more research and finish up the job.

And then I didn't hear from him for days. I got anxious. I couldn't sleep. Couldn't eat. Couldn't even drink. And you know it's bad when homey isn't even interested in a glass of wine.

Then against the text in every relationship book I've ever read, and against the advice of my married male co-worker, I emailed him. I kept it brief and to the point. I received almost an immediate response. He was so sorry that he wasn't contacting me as regularly. He was into me. And to prove it, he invited me over for a movie and wine.

Well, I don't know if that proved it to me. It wasn't a date - not a real one. But I went anyway, because I wanted to see him. To touch him. To talk to him. To kiss him.

We only watched 15 minutes of the movie before our clothes were on the floor.

And as much fun as it was for me that night physically, - he is very attentive - I went home feeling empty. I knew in my heart that this had morphed from a potential romance to an FWB. And I take full responsibility - I was way too easy.

This weekend marked one year since my mom's passing. When I got home on Sunday night, I spent time in ritual, remembering her life and her importance to me. Afterward, I went to bed and it dawned on me that she would want better for me.

I wasn't going to see Les again. I couldn't. But then there was an email waiting for me Monday morning - he sent it late Sunday night. He asked me if everything went well when I was with my dad. He asked if I was okay. And he said he would call later in the week to make plans.

I decided not to answer. To end it there. It was a fairly nice email, sure. But it just wasn't enough, and I wanted more.

My non-response did not go unnoticed. He emailed me two more times. Was I okay? Had he upset me? Could he do anything to make it up to me?

I remembered how I felt when I was on the other end of that, and decided to write back. I didn't want to lie, but then again I didn't want to be completely honest, either. So I said the truth - but not the whole truth: that my homecoming was rough and I was dealing with it.

I didn't go into detail. I didn't explain. I left it at that.

He immediately emailed me back - "I'm here for you if you want to talk." Um. Okay - that's nice, but a guy who was really into me would have simply picked up the phone and said, "Peej, are you okay? Can I do something for you?" He didn't - email is the easy way out and I recognized that immediately.

My married male co-worker said, "Pamela, I think he really likes you. He may not know what to do with that, though, so he's keeping a distance." And I know my married male co-worker means well - but I am done hanging on to false hope. I had really been into Les. I knew he was someone I could fall in love with. And yet, with one email - just that one - I was no longer into him.

But I did wonder this: as we had so much sexual chemistry, could I, now that I had fallen out of like, actually be in a purely sexual relationship with him? Do I have in me?

I pondered on this a lot the last few days. When I thought about the sexual aspect of it - of how it was when we were together - I would think, "Yes, I can do this." I can honestly say I have not had this type of explosive reaction to anyone - not even Mr. Kim. Of course, let's face it, I'm also still a novice. Mr. Kim was my first - and there were only two others after him. Still... with Mr. Kim as my baseline, this thing I had with Les was overwhelmingly delightful and sexually delicious. Could I make that part of it last?

Yet another part of me, the part of me that lost respect for him, thought no. Not because my body wouldn't react; I was pretty sure it would. It was because I felt he wasn't worthy - why give him something when he hasn't worked for it at all?

I thought I had my answer, until he emailed me today. We ended up having some sexually charged exchanges, and I went ahead and engaged because I decided I'd test this out. Could it work? Maybe. Would it work? I had to find out.

We met tonight, and it didn't take us long to hit the sheets. And it was as wonderful as ever. However after it was over, I pulled myself out of it and took a long hard look at him. And at me. And at...this. Whatever it is. It was then that I decided no, this wasn't going to work.

I made sure I gathered up all my things, because I didn't want to have any reason to have to return. We said good night. He kissed me. And then I left.

As I drove home, I thought of a lot of things. I remembered The Sailor, and our time together. That was the closest thing to an FWB I ever had. And it worked, because he treated me like a prize. He took me to dinner - every time we went out. We talked. Watched movies. All that, plus the other - or as close to the other we could get to, seeing as he couldn't physically consummate our affair.

I thought of my parents, and how I know they would want something better for me. I thought of a couple of guys I currently know that I would like to get to know better. I want to be absolutely free to do so. And I thought of myself - and realized that maybe an FWB could still work for me, but not with Les.

When I pulled into my driveway, I knew I wouldn't be returning to Les' place ever again. I walked through the door, took off all my clothes and jumped into the shower. I scrubbed myself clean. I washed my clothes. I burned some sage.

It is over. It is finished. C'est la vie. Que Sera, Sera. Peace out.

Monday, September 27, 2010

Is He Just Not That Into Me?

Dating in mid-life is not easy. As much as we like to pretend we're strong, happy individuals without any baggage, the truth is at this point in our lives we're all a little damaged in some form or fashion. And it affects how we process and deal with dating issues, like last minute cancellations.

Last week with Les was pretty good. We had a bump, but we were able to work through it. It was simply a case of miscommunication – or rather, poor communication. We got through it with flying colors – and important first step was conquered.

We had a nice date on Thursday at the drive-in, and then on Friday night we rented a movie to watch at his place. I simply don’t know why we bothered – we only saw about ten minutes of the movie, and before I knew it, I was excusing myself at 1:30 a.m. so I could go home. I had the option to stay, but the truth is I wasn’t feeling all that great, and when that happens, my own bed is the best remedy.

We had tentative plans to try watching the movie again on Saturday night. I had a busy day ahead of me, and he had plans to meet with friends for Street Vibrations. My day consisted of getting up far earlier than I wanted to in order to drag my butt to DMV to get my car registered. After a four hour wait and running some errands afterward, I honestly didn’t feel like going to Les’ to finish watching the movie. So when I got home and saw he had emailed me from his phone asking if we could postpone until Sunday, I said yes. He actually gave me the option – he said we could still do Saturday night as planned, or move it to Sunday. I opted for Sunday, as a nap was calling out my name.

Sunday morning, my toilet tanked out on me again. Instead of paying every spare penny I have to a plumber, I decided to fix it on my own. I went to Lowe’s to get a snake, and while I was out, ran a few more errands. I got home, tackled the toilet, took a shower, and then sat down in front of the computer. I found an email from Les, stating he either partied too hard with his friends or was coming down with the flu – either way, he was feeling unwell and said he would have to cancel out on the movie for Sunday. He said he was going back to bed and would call me later.

Later never came.

Now, perhaps later never came because at some point, me being me, I emailed him the following: Do you realize that we haven't even been seeing each other a month, and you've used that excuse three times already? Either that's your go-to excuse, or you, my friend, have the body of a 72-year-old. Hope you feel better soon.

When I wrote it, I thought it sounded light-hearted, but later when I never received the promised phone call, I decided I probably sounded bitchy. The fact is, I felt a little bitchy. And this is where my past with Mr. Kim catches up with me.

See, for the most part I believe I’m being honest when I say I’m healthy and happy and ready to date. And when I say I’ve got baggage, but it’s safely stored away, that is true – at least for the most part. But, see, something about that last “I’m sick” triggered something in me – that feeling that perhaps he wasn’t sick, or maybe he was simply sick of me.

No matter how far I’ve come and how much I’ve conquered, the truth is I’m still that 16-year-old who was cheated on by her boyfriend. Repeatedly. And I’m still that twenty-something who didn’t have a relationship last longer than six months. And I’m still that thirty-something year old who thought she found the love of her life, only to discover that there are some hurdles love simply can’t jump, like distance. And I’m still that 46-year-old who discovered that the man she considered her life partner was looking elsewhere for a partner.

In other words, while I think and believe I am a great catch, there is evidence to prove otherwise – that is, if that’s how I choose to look at all the failed relationships I’ve had. Oh sure, I know that in most cases, the fit just wasn’t right. My boyfriend in high school loved me, but his hormones had trouble being true to a girlfriend who lived in a different city. And the relationships that didn’t last over six months in my twenties didn’t last longer for reasons that had nothing to do with who I was, rather than who I picked. And the long-distance relationship I had in my thirties didn’t stand a chance in the first place – it was just a hopeful romantic heart that hoped it could. But the last one, yes that last one was supposed to last. And it didn’t. And I’m still recovering, even though for the most part I think I’m over it.

So now I’m in this brand new something (I hesitate at calling it a relationship because it’s only a month old), and I question things. Does he really like me for me? Was I too easy? Should I have held out? Is he really sick? When he says he can’t take me out because finances are tight, is that the truth? Are we moving forward or is it just an illusion?

I have no answers – and that frustrates me to no end.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Rain Check

Les has been gone for a week. A whole frickin' week. Seven long days. Okay, maybe not so long. I mean, let's face it, I'm not your average stay-at-home kind of gal. I do have a life. But that life seemed more colorful and vibrant whenever I spent time with Les. And I didn't get to do that for a whole week, because he was traveling around the country receiving training on various aspects of his new business.

We talked on Sunday night and made plans for Tuesday. We were going to go to Wild River Grille for some salmon/crab cakes and beer. And then we were gonna, well, catch up. Close and personal like.

We talked again last night. He couldn't wait to see me. He would pick me up at five p.m., and asked me to please send my address one more time.

We sent several emails after our phone call and I found myself giddy with anticipation.

This morning, I got up at 4 a.m. Had some coffee, and then proceeded to vacuum and put stray items away. I freshened up the bedroom, made the bed, and put candles in strategic places.

I burned incense.

I Febreezed the couch.

I used Zero Odor on Purrscilla's nasty spots.

I found myself being a little apprehensive. It has been absolutely AGES since I had a guy over - I mean really "over." I had two different guys over for dinner, but pretty much only dinner. Allowing someone into my "space" is a very personal thing. I don't even invite too many friends over - I have to really trust someone before I let them through the front door.

Well, that, and I have germ issues, so I need to make sure they aren't the type of person to think less of me for making them kick off their shoes in the hallway before coming into the house.

Before leaving for work, I took time to make sure I was well-groomed and clean. I wore a dress to work - unnecessary as work attire, as I work in a business casual atmosphere. Still, I wanted to take no chances, just in case I got off work later than expected. I wanted to be dressed and ready to go come five p.m.

Around 10 a.m., I received an email from Les. I eagerly opened it up, scanned it, and saw something that made my heart stop: "I need to take a rain check on tonight." What? I read it again. Yep. Rain check. I quickly read the rest of the email... "because I was away..." blah, blah, blah, " difficulties..." blah, blah, blah..."money's tight for the next week or two..." blah, blah, blah, "...I will talk to you later."

I was pissed and disappointed at the same time.

Now before you go judging me, let me first state that I've never been "that" woman. You know 'that" woman - the one who won't go out with a guy unless he spends a ton of money on her. Most of my life, money has been tight for me, so I totally understand budgets and restraint in spending, etc.

I know that being with Mr. Kim spoiled me a bit. He had an interesting relationship with money. He viewed it as a renewable resource, and with him, it kind of was. I don't know how he would do it. He could be worried about making bills, and next thing we knew, he would be offered a $100-an-hour contract, with expenses. Problem temporarily solved, and the cycle would repeat over and over again.

He loved extravagant meals out. He often bought me little gifts and flowers. We enjoyed good wine and "top shelf" condiments and groceries. Yes, I got a little spoiled - and then I was laid off and broke up with him all around the same time, and I was back to where I had been for years: budgeting money, buying groceries at Winco and clothes at Goodwill. So, believe me when I say I understand budgets. Streamlining. Cutting back. I honestly do.

What I don't understand is not having an alternate plan. "PJammy, I can't afford to take you to Wild River Grille tonight, but how about we meet for a walk around the Marina?" Or perhaps dinner at his place. Or "I'll bring a bottle of Ménage if you cook dinner." Nothing like that. Just a blanket offer of a rain check.

We haven't seen each other for a week. Sure, we've talked almost daily and sent countless emails - but jeepers, what about actually GETTING TOGETHER as planned?

So yes, I'm pissed.

My co-worker said I'm acting as if I'm already his girlfriend. Maybe I am, and perhaps I have no right to do that. Yet, another part of me says it's just good manners to come up with an alternate, low cost, plan.

It is possible.

If he wanted to.

Which makes me wonder if he really wanted to get together in the first place...

Sunday, September 19, 2010

The Sunday Seven

1) I visited my dad this weekend and helped him set up his computer. When I got home and called him to let him know I'd arrived safely, he said, "I think I'm on the Internet." I asked him what the screen looked like. He said, "I was visiting JC Whitney, but now it won't let me leave." "What do you mean," I asked him. "I keep hitting the delete key, but the page is still up."

I couldn't help but laugh.

2) The ride home was one of my easiest in months, despite lane closures on 80E. I listened to "London is the Best City in America" on CD. The drive didn't afford me enough time to listen to the whole thing - and I can't hardly wait to get to the end.

3) When I arrived home, I had one phone message and three email messages from Les. I am so in like I can't hardly stand it.

4) He comes home tomorrow.

5) I can't wait to see him...but I think I have to wait until Tuesday.

6) To dull the pain, I'm on my third glass of wine.

7) Who am I kidding? I wasn't in pain. I just wanted wine.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Ho Hum. It's Tuesday.

Maybe it's because my next boyfriend is out of town. Or maybe it's because I lost out on a free bike. Or maybe it's because I didn't get the job I wanted. Whatever it is, it's left me feeling utterly and completely apathetic. Here are the top five things that I really couldn't care a hoot about:

1) Penelope Cruz is pregnant. Whoop-de-doo. Her voice is annoying and grating, and I wish she'd go back to whatever country it is she came from.

2) George Michael will be jailed for eight weeks. Really? Only eight weeks? No offense, GM, but you really should have gotten a longer stint. And look at the bright side: you won't have to go to any public parks for free sex. I think you can get plenty of action right there in jail. Oh and do remember to wake up your cellmate before you go go.

3) Lady Gaga wore a meat dress. So what? I wear meat every day. It's called "skin" and cannibals love it.

4) Bill Maher claims it is atheism that prevents him from getting an Emmy. Bill, are you completely sure it's atheism, and has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you're boorish and completely unfunny? Jon Stewart has you beat hands down. (Although it could also be because he's one of the Chosen People...)

5) Oprah is taking her audience to Australia. Is there anything this woman won't do to get herself in the news? Really, the only way that broad will ever impress me is if she gives a whole audience full of unemployed people jobs. Now that would be a feat worth talking about.

Friday, September 10, 2010

Minute by Minute

This is my horoscope for today: Tick tock. Tick tock. Is this what your day feels like? It probably will definitely feel like time is crawling today. As you experience minutes feeling like hours think about what you are doing. There is in fact nothing so compelling as to keep you from indulging in a little recreation, PJammy. Your tasks will still be there tomorrow - for now, cut yourself some slack. It has to be better than this!

As I type this, it is 8:21 a.m. In less than 12 hours, I'll be with Les. But... this day is already going by so slowly. There is no work in the queue. No emails to answer. Nothing at all is going on. Just the tick, tick, tick of the clock taunting me with its slowness.

It's odd to think we've only known each other for just less than two weeks. We talk almost every day on the phone. Email often. We have shared so much, and yet still have much to share.

My mind races forward and jumps ahead. Will I miss him when he's away next week? Will we be together come October? November? December?

When I catch myself doing this, I reel myself back in. "This is only going to be our fourth date," I tell myself. "Stop it!"

And I do stop. For a while, anyway.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick... can we at least fast forward to tonight?

Thursday, September 09, 2010

Fourth Time is a Charm

I have a date tomorrow night. It will be our fourth. I am counting the hours, and that makes it seem even further away. I know that in all actuality, it's just a little more than twenty-four hours away, yet it seems like it'll never get here.

We had a great phone conversation last night - and at some point, he said I was only the second person he's gone out on a date with since his divorce. He said he's not much for dating around - that when he finds someone he is interested in, he devotes his time to seeing where it will go. And let me tell you, he has been devoting some time to me - and I could seriously get used to that.

I haven't felt this way about anyone in absolutely years. I'm giddy. I smile at strangers. I don't flip people off when they cut me off in traffic. I'm keeping my place tidied up, just in case he has free time and wants to get together. I think about his smile and his voice and his steadiness.

I like him.

A lot.

And so, during our phone conversation last night, I went ahead and said it first: "I really like you. You're a nice person. You're sane. You've got a good head on your shoulders." As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I panicked. Was it too soon?

He said, "I really like you, too."

I smiled and the panic went away.

We're getting together tomorrow night to watch Avatar (neither of us have seen it). He told me he would have wine for me, and asked me if I trusted him enough to pick out a wine for me, or would I rather he just have my favorite. I told him I trusted him. Then he said, good, because he had something special in mind - but just in case I didn't like it, he would also have my favorite (Ménage a Trios) on hand as a Plan B.

Then I asked if we were really going to watch a movie. He laughed and said yes, and added that he was pretty sure we could get through two hours together without pawing each other. Then he laughed again and said, "Well, maybe just a little bit of pawing."

Hopefully more than a little.

We'll see.

Saturday, September 04, 2010

Karma...It's a Bitch

As I mentioned, I've been employing the Pair and a Spare method of dating. My spare is always someone different, but recently my Pair consisted of Eddie (lives in Winnemucca; I met him through Match) and Les (I haven't talked much about him yet; I met him through CL).

Eddie is sweet. He's gentle, funny, and has been moving very slowly. He likes me a lot, or so he indicates, but I rarely hear from him. I don't know how else to put this, except I think he's just a bit beaten down. I don't know how his two relationships ended (one marriage, one four-year long-term relationship), but I know they both left him, telling him there was something "better" for them. I haven't pried - but I know that he proceeds very cautiously.

I get it, I really do - yet had he moved a bit faster, we might be at a different place in our relationship right now. As it is, we aren't, and so here I am, dating someone else as well. And baby, this someone moves very quickly.

Les doesn't second guess himself - and if he does, he keeps it to himself. He just moves right on through. After our first date, he called to make plans to get together again. And last night? He wanted to get together again - and this is just in the span of one week.

And so... I had plans with Eddie today. We were supposed to go to the Rib Cook-Off and see the Gin Blossoms. But... I couldn't stop thinking about Les. And the more I thought about Les, the less enthused I became about seeing Eddie.

Now... had Eddie called me last night like he was supposed to, I might have had a different feeling about today. Eddie emailed me twice: once on Thursday and once on Friday to let me know he would call on Friday night so we could talk about a meeting place, etc. By 10 p.m. he hadn't called, so I went to bed.

However, earlier that night Les not only emailed - twice - but he called. We had a fun phone call, joked around, and talked for about an hour. I found it refreshing that we could have such a fun conversation and talk about absolutely nothing in particular, yet still have a good time. After our phone call, he emailed me. Twice.

I went to bed with conflicting emotions: a bit of giddiness from having such a good conversation with Les to confusion at why Eddie hadn't called. At 10:37, I was awakened from a not-so-deep sleep to the sound of a ringing phone. I felt disoriented. Who could be calling? From my bedroom, I couldn't hear the message that well as I had Coast to Coast AM on the radio. At some point I realized I couldn't get back to sleep, so I walked into the front room and hit "play" - it was Eddie.


I didn't call back - instead I went back to sleep.

When I woke up this morning, I found that I didn't want to see Eddie. And it's not because I don't like him - I do. I just found myself thinking more about the emails I received from Les (which he wrote last night, but I didn't read until I woke up this morning). He wanted to see me again. Today if possible. And I found myself smiling, and then frowning, realizing that I would have to say no.

Or would I?

I left the house to think about it. I had plans with Eddie. I couldn't renege - or could I? It wouldn't be cool, but would it be fair to be with him while thinking about Les. Or would I be thinking about Les?

I couldn't make up my mind, but the longer I thought about it, the more stressed I felt. Should I or shouldn't I?

When I got home, I made the call. When he answered, I said, "Eddie, don't hate me.." He said, "I could never hate you." Ugh - now I felt really bad. "I just can't make it tonight. I'm not feeling well, and as much as I tried to get better, I just am not there, so I won't be able to meet you tonight." (Not a complete lie - the stress of wondering what to do did put me into quite the state, and I wasn't feeling well because of it.)

He was so sweet - and said no problem, he would hang out with his friend Tony, who wasn't as cute as I was, but he was sure they'd have a good time. He told me to get better.


I felt bad, until Les contacted me shortly afterward. He wanted to see me today, but was fairly certain I had plans. Did I? Would I be able to see him?

I told him yes.

He said he'd call after he returned from the gym. So, I started getting ready. I took a shower (as I had been at the gym myself). Washed my hair, then began the long, arduous task of straightening it. I made sure I was shaved. I put on my best pheromone-laced body lotion. Found some sexy underwear that still fit. And waited for his call.

I have no idea how I missed his call - perhaps he called while I was blow drying my hair - but around six-thirty, I noticed the light on my machine was blinking. What? I listened. It was Les. He ran a race this morning (which I knew), but of course went to the gym, anyway. He found himself feeling lightheaded and nauseous, so he was on his way home. He would call me "later" when he felt better, but wasn't sure we would be getting together after all.

Karma bit me in the ass. Again.

So here I am, watching a movie I rented and still wearing my sexy underwear. Not sure why I didn't take it off - perhaps I was feeling hopeful. Now I'm just feeling stupid.

And alone.

Karma - I get it. I really do. Now stop laughing at me and move on to someone else, okay? I honestly didn't mean anyone any harm.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Ramblings of an Unstable Mind

1. I'm tired of dating, yet at the same time, I want more dates. I think the problem may be that I need dates with guys that don't leave me feeling tired of dating.

Is that even possible?

2. I am falling in like with a guy that I've been dating. Of course, there's a problem: I think he may be an alcoholic.

3. I want to be an Elk, but their site doesn't tell me how to become one. But it does tell me there will be karaoke next Tuesday.

4. A guy from Match winked at me. I looked at his profile: he has many pictures of himself in leather pants, and a few of him wearing regular pants and a latex top. His profile copy says he's insatiable and likes rough sex. Um, I probably could have figured that out all on my own from all the leather.

5. I contacted him, anyway.

6. Probably because I need a spanking.

7. Speaking of sex, I haven't heard from my booty call. Well, that's kind of a lie. He called when I was out on Saturday. I didn't call him back.

8. I'm not sorry I didn't call him back, but my va-jay-jay is none too pleased with me right now.

9. I've been having dreams again of my ex. And his stupid wife. And in my stupid dreams she is pregnant.

10. I'm having dreams about my ex because of magic I did on the full moon. Seriously Universe, when I made that dream pillow, I was not asking to dream about my ex. MAKE IT STOP.

11. I think, though, that the Universe is telling me to get all my remaining stuff out of his shed so I can move on completely. Hoping that is the real message of all the stupid dreams, I contacted my ex to arrange to pick stuff up. Of course he hasn't contacted me back.

12. The guy I'm falling in like with finally kissed me. I wish I had made him kiss me again.

13. If you hadn't guessed, I can be bossy sometimes.

14. Maybe I should buy some leather pants, so my bossiness will be taken seriously.

15. My dad is visiting me this weekend. I think I'll take him to Virginia City.

16. The guy I went out with last night asked me if I was going to take my dad to see the Suicide Table - and then he got really excited. Almost too excited. I had to look underneath the table to make sure he didn't have leather pants on.

17. He didn't.

18. He kissed me. With tongue. Why do guys think that is appropriate for a first kiss?

19. Am I allowed to bite the next time someone tries that?

20. I am still unsure as to why I said yes to a second date. It might have been the wine. It was really good wine.

21. I just want to meet someone normal, decent, sane and funny. Is that possible?

22. If not, could I at least just find someone to spank me?

Monday, August 23, 2010

Me vs. Marie Osmond

I had a "surprise" date on Saturday night. I went to a party in Carson (which I never found), and returned home to find a message on my machine from some guy who wanted to meet me.

He said he was going to be at Flowing Tide at 9 p.m. wearing a "burnt orange" shirt. I should have known just by that comment alone what the date would be like.

But noooo, instead I thought, "9 p.m. is kind of a random time..." so I looked online to see if there was something special going on at 9 p.m. and low and behold there was going to be karaoke! My joy was barely contained! Because he suggested a place that had karaoke, I figured he read my profile and knew enjoyed it, so I gave him a few bonus points for paying attention and decided to go.

I got there, and the burnt orange shirt stuck out in a crowd so I found him right away. However, when the bartender brought me my drink, he made no move to pay for it, so I pulled the money and a tip out of my purse and paid for it myself. This was a sure sign the date was going to go badly. As we eased into conversation, it turned out he didn't know there was karaoke - yet another sign this date was going to go horribly and completely awry. However, I did not expect it to turn out like this:

Unprompted by me, he started to tell me how much he liked Donny and Marie Osmond, and that he was able to meet them, not once but twice, in Las Vegas. I don't know about you, but I haven't met any straight guys who would admit to liking Donny Osmond. Ignoring the Donny Osmond part of the equation, I asked him if Marie was as pretty in real life as she is on TV.

Good going, PJammy. You opened up a Pandora's box with that question. "Oh no, not at all," the guy responded. Then he pulled out his iPhone and started pulling up the pictures. When he got to the first one, he said "See? She is SO MUCH better looking in person. She is absolutely beautiful. And nice. And..." Well, the list just went on and on.

He was obviously star struck.

Then he paged through photo after photo, telling me about each pose and the story leading up to it. He relayed what he thought to be a funny/cute story about him clunking Marie on the head, and how the second time he met her she remembered and laughed about it.

He showed me a picture of him presenting her with a music box with white roses on top, and then joyously proclaimed that he found out from her on their second meeting that she still had it in her dressing room. Oh how proud he was!

Then he showed me another picture of her gasping with delight over a gift he gave her. As I was in the process of tuning him out, please forgive me for not remembering the minute details, but from what I can gather from the bits of information that I heard that just won’t go away, the gift was some sort of program from some sort of performance she was in. Her joy at receiving the program was because she lost most of her personal memorabilia in a fire at her house. Knowing this, he generously gave it to her for her collection, to which she uttered an orgasmic “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOh!” right as the picture was taken.

Then he showed me a picture of him lifting up his pants leg to reveal to Donny his purple socks (for those not in the know, back in the days when Donny graced the cover of many a 16 Magazine, his favorite color was purple - a fact every Osmond fan cherished back then).

At some point, he managed to stop talking about Donny and Marie, and told me that he used to sing karaoke a lot, and that he often made up his own parodies (think Weird Al wannabe). He decided he would sing one for me, and went up to request Margaritaville, which he turned into Marijuanaville. On a date. With someone who has never smoked a doobie in her life.

Oh, but that wasn't the worst of it. He got up to go to the bathroom, and as soon as he left, a grandpa who had been eying me came over and asked me if the seat was free. I took a moment to assess the situation: am I better off sitting with Grandpa or listening to Donny and Marie stories? Both scenarios were pretty grizzly, so as I figured it would be rude to let a complete stranger and Viagra patient take my date's seat, I regretfully told him no, the seat was taken.

Gramps went off and I saw him hitting on at least three more women much younger than myself. The Viagra company must love him.

Was the night a complete bust? Nah, I did get to sing California Gurls with the DJ acting as Snoop Doggy Dog for me.

But when Marie Osmond's Biggest Fan asked me if he could walk me to my car, I said no, I was staying. And so I did. The DJ talked to me a bit, and I left when I was sure the coast was completely clear.

Sunday, August 08, 2010

Sassy Saturday

I had an absolutely excellent day. Not sure what the most exciting thing is to report. Was it when my friend was in the bathroom and suddenly called out, "Peej, I have something I want to show you!"

Or was it when I saw John Schneider of Dukes of Hazard and Smallville fame. He is f*cking good looking in real life. And nice, too, as far as I could tell.

Perhaps it was when I was walking down Victoria Avenue and some guy held out his arm, which was laden with Mardi Gras beads, and asked me if I'd like to earn some. "No, but thanks for asking" was my response.

Could it have been when I went home to change shoes before going to karaoke when I noticed I had a blinking light on my phone and it turned out to be a message from my Thursday night boy toy? I guess being a semi-slut on the first date worked in my favor after all.

Or maybe it was when some guy belted out "Play that funky music, white boy" at karaoke. He was pretty good - but was he better than seeing John Schneider up close and personal? I dunno - don't make me choose.

Monday, August 02, 2010

Date Number Four

Date Number Four: Mr. Happy

It started with an email titled "Happy 6th of July."I feel I should stay in contact with you. I feel like there is some kind of connection we have between us I just can't put my finger on it yet :)" (sic)

And so I wrote him back. I know, I'm a sucker. But, he was sincere, and so I thought, what the heck?

In his reply, he asked me if I'd like to try it again. I said yes. So, unlike last time, he set the date, time AND place. Outback on S. Virginia that Friday at 6 p.m. I told him I'd be there.

He left nothing to chance this time. He confirmed again via email later in the week and a phone call. I found it charming and not in the least bit stalkerish.


I got to the restaurant about five minutes early. I went inside, and peeked into the bar area, just in case he decided to grab a beer while he waited. Didn't see him.

I sat down and waited. The host came over to me and asked if he could help me. I said no, that I was waiting for someone. He asked if I had looked in the bar. I said yes, but then realizing that I might not know exactly what this guy looked like, I took another peek. Nope. No one that resembled his online pic.

Not ten seconds later, some guy approached me from behind. "There you are! I have a table." I was taken aback - what is this thing that guys do with grabbing a table first?

I don't get it - this isn't the first time it's happened to me, either, and I find it irritating. It's hard enough meeting someone for the first time, but then I'm supposed to "guess" that he's already seated - and then walk through a busy restaurant looking for someone who resembles an online pic?

I tried to quickly brush off my irritation, because I didn't want to be pissy on our first date. I could save that for later.

Thankfully the waiter came over quickly, and I ordered a Corona Light. I figured the alcohol would calm me down.

Mr. Happy was nice, despite his getting a table without me. We talked and joked and honestly, I felt comfortable. Or as comfortable as one could feel on a first date.

I felt that our conversation was pretty equal - he'd ask me a question, I'd respond. I'd ask him a question, he'd respond. We had some back and forth and some delightful banter - so unlike Mr. River Rafting who hogged the conversation.

After dinner, he paid and we got up to leave. As we walked outside, he said, "Come over to my truck, I have something to show you." I said something like, "you don't know how many times I've heard that line..." and laughed.

I walked with him to his truck, and he said, "Tanny!" I was thinking, huh? What's a Tanny? Then a dog peered over the top of the truck bed. He said, "You said you liked dogs, so I brought Tanny with me so you could meet her."

His dog is part pit-bull and part Sharpei. I've got quite a aversion to pit bulls, mostly because I have cats and I worry that a pit would tear one of them in two. But, this dog seemed really sweet and very, very shy. I could see the Sharpei part of her in her face. I petted her, and she responded.

He and I talked while she ate his leftover steak. Then, he said, "I have something for you." I was going to joke about how many times I've heard that line, but stopped myself when I saw him reach inside a cooler and bring out flowers. White roses to be exact.

He handed them to me, and I thanked him. I told him they were really beautiful and I appreciated the gift. Then he looked alarmed and said, "Well, now, I don't know what they mean - so don't read anything into them! I just thought they were pretty and you said you liked flowers."

He walked me to my car and we hugged. He didn't say anything like "I'd like to see you again," or "I had a good time." He just said good-bye. I thanked him again, got into my car, and after I put my flowers in a safe place, I saw him driving away with Tanny.

I looked at the clock. Seven-thirty. I drove away feeling like I still had the whole night ahead of me, but I didn't know what to do with myself. So I drove home, unsure of whether or not he even wanted to see me again.

I guess only time would tell...

Friday, July 30, 2010

The Friday Five

I know, I know - I still need to write about dates four and five. I will - honestly. But first a break from romance (ha!) for the Friday Five:

1) This is the first week of July that's gone by in which I haven't had a date. Well, if you're one of those people who says the week starts on Sunday, then I guess I did have a date. But if you're of the ilk that the week starts on Monday, no dates for me.

2) My "kitten" is now over two years old - but every once in a while, like tonight, he chases his tail. I can't help but be amused.

3) My Thursday night apprenticeship class has officially ended. I've had class on Thursday for over two years - I am wondering what I'll do with my free night.

4) I know what I should do with my free night: go to the gym.

5) I thought about going to the gym tonight. Instead, I put on my sweat pants and had a glass of wine. The best of both worlds, without having to get sweaty.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Date Three.Point.Five

Date Number Three.Point.Five: Mr. Happy

Mr. Happy won me over right away. His very first email to me went a little something like this: "I no if I got a date with u It will certinally be a step up for me. If you want to make a old country boy's heart piter and pater rae;l fast then tell me you would let me take you on a date." (sic)

Now, if any of you have come across my profile, you would know that I ask for - wait plead for, someone who can spell. So, all those spelling errors left me wincing, yet I still had a smile on my face. Why? Because this guy's pic that accompanied his profile shows him smiling - a big, wide open smile. That face along with the tone of the email is what grabbed me.

I wrote him back, he wrote me back and thus a flurry of emails passed between us in a matter of days. None of them long - but all of them funny and cute and self-deprecating (his, not mine).

I teased him about the distance between us and how he would only be able to dream about dating me, as he lives in Winnemucca, which I estimated to be five hours, twenty-two minutes and thirty-three seconds away. He told me it was only two hours and fifteen minutes, and that he comes to Reno often.

He told me he would be down here on July 4th and asked if I already had plans. I said I only had tentative plans to see the fireworks in Sparks - but that I was open to meeting if he would be in town. So, he said the 4th it was, and would I want to watch the fireworks with him? I said yes.

We had a plan - or so I thought.

He emailed me on Friday while I was at work, so I didn't see it until I returned home. He said that he was just about to get on the road, and that he wouldn't have access to a computer so he wanted to be sure I was still willing to meet him on the 4th at 7 p.m. Well, I was, but we hadn't nailed down a meeting place. As if reading my thoughts, the next sentence in his email stated that he would call me with a meeting place.

Okay then!

Friday night came - no call. Saturday morning - no call. I went out on Saturday, and spent most of the day away. I came home - no call. I went out again that evening and returned in the wee hours of the morning. No message. Hmmmm.... I was beginning to think this wasn't going to happen.

Sunday morning I rolled out of bed, made some coffee, and checked email. I knew he said he wouldn't have access, but he added that he would try to hunt down a computer. But alas, there was no message. By noon, he hadn't called. By three p.m. he hadn't called, so I finally left the house. I ran some errands, bought some plants, and got home around five-something.

Oh look - there was a message. I wasn't keen on the message coming so late in the day, and it appeared he called closer to five then three (the time I left the house). I pressed play and listened...

He said that he was at West 2nd Street getting drunk. Where was I? Wasn't I still meeting him at 7 p.m.? He added that he thought I could meet him at West 2nd, and then we could go to Sparks. In my head I was thinking, not if you're getting drunk I'm not!

Navigating downtown traffic on a busy holiday like the 4th was not appealing. What to do?

I decided to do nothing. After all, he couldn't have been that into me if he waited until the last minute to call - and especially if he called me from a bar.

It didn't feel right, so I went outside to my yard and planted the plants I had just picked up from Lowe's.

When I got inside, I checked email. Oh guess what? There was an email from him. I wasn't sure if he sent it from his phone or what - but there it was. "I thought we were meeting. :("

I felt kind of bad, but I also didn't. It was a mixture of feeling disappointed not to be going out and not meeting him, to feeling indignant about his lack of early communication.

I decided to email him back, but waited until I knew the fireworks were over.

I wanted to keep it light... after all, it could have been just bad judgment on his part. Or maybe the week got away from him. Still, there was Saturday. And for all I knew, he had spent Saturday with someone else - hence his not contacting me on that day.

"Dude, you mustn't have dated in quite a while. You seem to have forgotten the finer points of dating etiquette, one of which is calling in advance to set a time and place - not at the last minute. After all, a girl does need time to look her best."

He wrote me back the next day, saying that if he says he'll do something (like call), he'll do it. He added that I seemed to think he was like "all the rest." He said it was hard for him to get up the courage to ask someone out, and he didn't elaborate, but I take it I sort of dashed his courage. He ended by saying if I had really wanted to make it happen, I would have, so good luck in the big old world of dating.

I have to admit, I was a bit disheartened after reading his email. Oh yes, folks, I realized that he took none of the blame for our missed connection - still, I could tell from the tone of the email that he was disappointed and hurt.

I thought about this for a long time. Do I write him back? Do I let it go?

I eventually decided to write him back. Some of the things I told him were, "You know you're type of guy to follow thru - but as you are a virtual stranger to me, I wouldn't know that without actually meeting you."

and "You know, one of the worst things about dating for a woman? Waiting for a call - especially the one that doesn't come."

and then, "The one thing you said, though, is both true and not true: I also feel if you wanted to meet me as much as I wanted to meet you it would have happened."

I ended by saying that if he was in town again and curious, to give me a call. And if I didn't hear from him again, I wished him well in his search.

So, Date Three.Point.Five was the date that didn't happen - at least when it was supposed to. And that would lead us to our next installment...

Date Number Three

Date Number Three: Mr. Moneybags

When Mr. Moneybags first contacted me, I laughed. His email was short and funny - just the way I like 'em. I read his profile, and he seemed normal and sane. There was only one red flag in his profile - a sentence that read "My ex signed me up for this."

Now, I think that might have been his way of relaying to prospective matches know that he's so nice, even his ex wants him to meet someone. But to me it signaled that he and his ex might not be done. Still... his emails came fast and furious, and he was calling me cutie and stuff and so I was interested in meeting him in person, to see what he was all about.

When we finally moved our conversations from email to phone, I have to admit I was disappointed with his voice. He talked very quickly and his words were clipped. There wasn't a lot of intonation, and he had that perpetual "I've got a cold" sound, but he didn't have a cold. Yet he was personable, so I saw no reason to write him off just because I wasn't attracted to the sound of his voice.

We had a few more emails and a few more phone calls, and we made plans to meet on a Sunday for an free Artown event. It was his idea, and I admit to thinking, "A free Artown event? Guess this guy doesn't want to spend any money on me..."

Now don't get me wrong - I'm not all about the money. Honestly I am not. Yet the fact that he wanted to meet a free event seemed like maybe he thought I wasn't worth investing in - like I wasn't even worth the price of a cup of coffee or tea. And since that invitation came on the heels of his telling me that he had gone out with his ex the night before to see The Wailers, well... I dunno... the combination of the two just didn't sit well with me.

Yet as I am an Artown aficionado, I said yes. We decided on a meeting place and event and the morning of the event, I received an email from him, asking if I was on Wells the day before, driving a (insert name and make of my car here, along with my license plate).

I was shocked. I wrote him back and said yes, that was me. He said he had been next to me at a stop light checking me out, while I was not checking him out. He still wanted to meet, so I take it I didn't flip him or anyone else off while on Wells.

We met at the River later that day, and I am glad he found me, because I never would have recognized him from his online photo. Why? Because he did that thing some guys do: wear sunglasses. I guess guys think that looks cool, but it doesn't bode well for recognition when one is meeting for a date.

The event we went to was a hip hop festival. Yes, I know. But it was seriously the only musical thing going on that day. But wait - it gets worse. He actually wanted to sit close to the speakers, so we did. Consequently, we did not have an opportunity to really get to know one another. Oh sure, we occasionally yelled at one another, "HOW WAS WORK?" "TAKE A LOOK AT THAT WOMAN'S CHUCKY TATTOO!" But basically, yeah, we just kind of sat there.

At about 5:30, he turned to me and yelled that he had to get going. We walked out of the park together, and he did not offer to walk me to my car. He said, "This was fun. Next time we'll have to do dinner." I said I would like that (am I crazy?). He said something about how he had to get his son to the emergency room - huh? I didn't quite understand, but he left and I walked to my car. Alone.

About a week or so later, he left a message on my phone. "Hi. This is Mr. Moneybags. Just thought I'd check in."

That was it - and I didn't really see a reason to call him back. There had been no emails or anything, and as the book says, if he doesn't call you right away, he's just not that into you.

Next! Stay tuned for Date Number three-point-five, four and five.

Date Number Two

Date Number Two: The Leprechaun

When the Leprechaun first contacted me, I have to admit I was intrigued. I had a lot of first contacts in that first week or so back online, but his profile was the first one to really grab me. Sure, he seemed outdoorsy while I am not, but other than that, he seemed like my kind of guy. In other words, he excited me.

He only had one picture on his profile, and in it he looked tall. It was taken outdoors, and he was smiling. You don't know how important that is, until you start getting contacted by these guys who think it's a good idea to post frowny-face pictures. I don't get it. So, it's always refreshing to see a guy with a smile.

Our correspondence was quick and witty and we covered a lot of topics. He told me he thought I made online dating easy - let's meet.

We settled on the West Street Market wine bar, and that excited me. Wine! He definitely knew what I liked.

When I got to the wine bar, he was already there. I saw him before he saw me - and I liked what I saw. He was dressed nicely and yet he looked approachable. As I got closer to the table, he sensed me. He got up and that's when I noticed his height, or rather, lack of it.

Honestly, though, height is not a problem for me. As I am only 5'3", I actually prefer shorter guys to taller ones. It just kind of threw me off a bit. I was expecting tall - and he was short.

We ordered wine and started talking. Or rather, he talked. And talked. And talked. He talked about everything from his lack of a car to his kids to his business. I was surprised, because he had told me he hates talking on the phone - so I guess I kind of expected him to be a quiet guy - which he definitely was not.

We had a good conversation, because unlike some other guys I've dated, he actually let me into the conversation. While we talked, I took notice of his face. It was a nice face - he wasn't handsome, but he was... pleasant. Yet, as I talked to him, I kept thinking he looked familiar...

Then it dawned on me. He looked like a leprechaun. He had the same kind of ears, the same kind of bright eyes, a hint of mischievousness and a sunny disposition.

When it was time for me to leave, he walked me to my car. He hugged me and said he'd really like to see me again - would I be interested in going on a hike that weekend? I told him as much as I would like to, I would be out of town visiting my dad, but would be free to hike the following weekend. He said he'd keep in touch, and I left.

When I got home later that night, I sent him an email and thanked him for the date. I added that I really enjoyed meeting him, and hoped to see him again.

He emailed me back stating he enjoyed meeting me as well, and told me about his day. After a few more back and forth emails, he just stopped writing back.

I have to admit I was disappointed, because leprechaunish or not, I really had hoped for a second date. Guess there's no pot of gold for me over that rainbow.

Stay tuned for Date Number Three...

My Month, In Dates

Dates... I haven't had this many dates in such a short period ever in my life. And no, I'm not kidding - not even when I was a slender, muscular young thing I didn't get as many bids for my attention as I am receiving now.

Life is good.

Or is it?

Here are my last five dates, plus one:

Date Number One, Mr. Detective Sergeant

His first email to me stated that he liked my profile, and would I like to meet him for a beer or coffee? Normally, I move a little slower than that, but after perusing his profile and reading the rest of the email, my "bad vibes alarm" didn't go off, so I thought, "Why not?"

We emailed a few times after that, and he called me to set up a meeting place. His voice was nice, and he asked me if I knew of a place we could meet at for a drink where he could bring his dog.

Now, a friend of mine thought this was really weird, so I must interject here with the fact that my profile states that I decided my next boyfriend should have a dog. So, this wasn't really odd, in light of what my profile states.

We settled on Wild River Grille, and I met him there the night after our phone call. He looked different than his picture, but not in a bad way. He had what I call a "drunk nose." You know, he had one of those little veiny things going down his nose. However, he was dressed sharp and was very nice - and so was his dog.

As soon as we ordered drinks, he proceeded to tell me that he was dating "A LOT" of women. A lot. Bunches, apparently, and in fact, added that he had just been on a date the night before.

Uh. Okay...

He went on and on about how he just wanted to see what was out there, to get a feel for the types of women available. See, he had a plan: While he is eligible for retirement in three years, he decided to retire in five. By that fifth year, he hopes to either be married or be involved in a committed relationship, so he has someone to spend his retirement with.

I suppose it's nice to have a plan.

He didn't seem too interested in me, and I could see why. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm nice and funny and we were actually having good conversation (well, that is, when he wasn't telling me all about all these other women). But, I could tell from what he said about his money and investments and the fact that he was just kind of dating around right now that he wasn't looking at me as a match. So imagine my surprise when, toward the end of the date, he blurted out, "You're very pretty. You are very pretty."

What could I say but thank you?

He walked me to my car, hugged me and said he'd like to meet again for a beer after "hell week" was over (the week of July 4th is a busy week for Tahoe cops). I said sure, I would really like that.

I got home, emailed him a thank you, and he wrote me back stating he was glad to meet me and he would email me after hell week to make plans for us to grab a beer.

I never heard from him again.

Stay tuned for Date Number Two.

Monday, July 26, 2010

The Great American Fix-Up

A while back, I let many of my friends know that if they wanted to fix me up with someone, I was game. An engaged and much-in-love friend of mine took the bait. She has a male friend who she thought I should meet. She admitted she wasn't positive we'd be a good match, but stated that we had some similarities and therefore might be attracted to one another.

I said yes to a meet.

So, she called him and he looked at my picture and said okay. She called me back, and we made plans to meet at Wild River Grille on the 25th. The group would consist of my friend, her fiancé, this guy and me.

I got to the restaurant about five minutes early, and waited outside. My friend is notorious for her lateness. True to form, she was late. She called, and said her fiancé was ahead of her and told me to look for him. Then she asked me if there were any lone men hanging around the restaurant that looked like the guy I was supposed to meet. I did see one guy - but he looked nothing like the picture I had seen, so I told her no.

Shortly after we hung up, a very good looking guy came up to me and said, "You must be Peej. I'm Peter!" He shook my hand, and then turned to the lone guy sitting all by himself and said, "And look - there's Greg!"

Here we were, less than a hundred feet away from one another, and because he didn't look like his picture I had no idea it was him. However, as I look just like my picture - and really, who could miss the red hair - I was puzzled as to why he hadn't come over and introduced himself. I chalked it up to shyness.

We made our introductions, and then got a seat inside the restaurant. I think most of us wanted to sit outside, but Greg's bald spot had gotten sunburned the day before, and so he wanted to be indoors.

My friend arrived about 10 minutes later - but Peter had made conversation easy. It turns out that Greg, my pseudo-date, is quite the talker. He's not funny - but boy can he talk.

And talk.

And talk.

And talk he did, about everything from pointing out his poison ivy infected appendages (his legs, thankfully, were covered), to his amazing chicken soup that cures all ills. He talked about river rafting and skiing and river rafting and kayaking and river rafting and equipment and river rafting and his sunburn and river rafting.

He really likes river rafting.

When the waiter came over for our drink order, I panicked just a tad. See, I'm currently very poor and I wanted to opt for water, but as we were technically meeting for drinks, I decided to splurge on a beer. However, Greg interjected before I could order, "I thought it would be nice if we got a bottle of wine to share."

Gulp. Bottles of wine are expensive...especially at the Wild River Grille. However, everyone else agreed, and I thought to myself, well, I can survive on peanut butter and low carb crackers if I have to... so I nodded my head in agreement. I would have spoken, but I was too afraid my voice would sound shaky and scared.

We decided on a bottle of wine (we couldn't order Cab, which we were leaning toward because Greg doesn't like it. I can't fault him, because if the choice was Chardonnay, I would have had to put a veto in on that as well). I calmed down a bit, thinking that maybe since it was his idea, he was going to spring for it.

I found out later that I was wrong.

We ordered some food and commenced with the fix-up. It would be a lie to say I didn't get a word in edgewise, but well, let's just say I didn't get many words in.

When the bill finally came, my part came to about $25. I panicked a bit inside - I was hoping I could get out of this for about $12, but with the wine and dessert and thank God I couldn't eat the appetizer, my portion was more than I expected it would be.

It's a good thing I have peanut butter at home and some eggs. Looks like homey ain't going grocery shopping for a week or so.

After dinner, we went for a walk and talked. Well... yeah, you guessed it - Greg did most of the talking. I managed to get in a couple of jokes, and while my friend and her fiance laughed, he kind of didn't get them.

Or maybe he did and didn't think they were funny.

Or maybe he thought they were funny but doesn't know how to laugh.

When we all decided to part ways, he was a gentleman and walked me to my car. He said he didn't trust that area of town and wanted to be sure I got to my car safely. I thought that was nice.

At the car, I asked him if he wanted a ride to his car (parked about two blocks away). He declined, shook my hand and said it was good to meet me. Then he said, "Well, I'm sure I'll see you around at some of Jodi's get-togethers."

That's when it dawned on me that he wasn't interested in me.

WTF? Not that I minded, yet I was thinking... hmmm... what just happened here? I dressed up, drove downtown and spent $25 to meet a guy who monopolizes the conversation, has no detectable sense of humor, and it turns out he's not interested in me?

I could have purchased a two-month membership to eHarmony for that - and been rejected ten times for my money, instead of just once.

I also wondered what made my friend think Greg and I could be a match. He's an outdoor guy, and I'm a girl who worships the great indoors. I have a good sense of humor, and Greg wouldn't know a joke if it bit him in the face. He plays instruments and sings, and my greatest musical ambition is to not get gonged at Gong Show Karaoke.

On the other hand, I know my friend thinks highly of both of us, so I am thankful that she thought enough of me to try to jump start my love life. I honestly don't think she completely thought it through. She probably just thought, “Hey Greg is nice and single. Peej is nice and single. Why not?”

When I got home, I asked myself if I would do something like this again. The answer was yes. Not all guys I meet are going to be a match - but if I don't meet any guys at all, then I'll never find a match, will I?

So if you're reading this and you just happen to know some guy who you think would be a match for me, go ahead and fix us up. I only ask that we not buy a bottle of wine to share... at least until I'm making more money.

Sunday, July 18, 2010

The Proof is in the Rosemary

I can't write a blog entry without writing the subject line first. So this is going to be difficult for me - right now the subject line is empty and it's driving me crazy. However, the whole "can't write until I have a subject line" thing is the main reason I haven't written lately... so I'm going to try something completely different and just type... and see what comes out.

I have so much on my mind - so many things I've wanted to write about and purge from my system. But these things just keep on mulling around my head, and it's just not healthy. It's not healthy because I don't get them out. They fester and grow and I become so used to their being there that these roadblocks become easy to ignore. Oh yes, they're roadblocks - huge, obtrusive cones that slow me down and make my journey miserable. And I want to move them out of the way, but I've become so adept at sidestepping them that I sometimes forget I have the power to remove them.

This afternoon I was able to ignore the roadblocks and go out on a date - this would be my fourth date recently with someone new. This is a first for me - I have never in my life done this much dating in such a short period of time. Never. And I know some of you women are probably saying, "Yes! Go for it! That's the way to do it!" But me? I simply roll my eyes and say, "Here we go again..."

Because you see for me it's always kind of the same thing: a guy is super interested in me and can't seem to get enough of me until we meet. And then... I dunno. It could be that I'm not showing enough enthusiasm. It could be they're not attracted to me. It could be that they're dating a bunch of others, too, and I am not enough of whatever it is that I need to be to get pushed to the head of the pack. If I think about it too much it'll just make me crazy, so I don't think about it. Much.

I will admit, though, it's a bit disheartening. I come away from these dates thinking, "What the fuck is wrong with me?" Yes, that's right - what is wrong with me? Why don't I ever ask what's wrong with them? I guess I just assume it's me - after all, I spent 11 years with someone who told me I was what was wrong with the relationship - so maybe, as confident as I am and as much as I like myself, I still automatically assume it's me.

Friday I had a pretty good date with someone. It was short: we met for dinner at Outback. He did do that weird thing, though, that I just don't get - he got to the restaurant and grabbed a table. So, I'm assuming we're meeting in the waiting area - I mean, we were supposed to "meet" right? And so I get to the restaurant, look in the bar to make sure he didn't get there before me and grab a drink. Nope. Don't see him. I sit down and wait. The host comes over to me and asks if he can help. I said I was waiting for someone - and he asks if I looked in the bar. I said yes, but I look again, anyway. After all, this is one of those Internet dates - maybe he doesn't look like his photo and I missed him. So I pop up from the seat, look around the bar, don't see him, so I sit back down.

About a minute later, some guy comes over to me and says, "I'm here - I've got a table already." He leads me to the table, where I find he's already ordered a beer and made himself comfortable.

I don't get this. This confuses me - always. Not just this time. It's happened to me before, and I don't get it. How am I supposed to find someone who's already seated in a large restaurant? Isn't that...rude?

I get over myself, though, and sit down and start talking. The rest of dinner went smoothly, and as we walked out of the restaurant he told me that he wanted me to go to his truck - he had something to show me. Uh... okay.

So we get to his truck, and he shows me his dog, who was waiting patiently for his return. He knows I like dogs, so he brought his dog along to meet me. That was sweet, in a country sort of way. After I meet the dog, he says, "I have something else for you." He opens up an ice chest and brings out roses. That was really sweet - and I said so. Then he says, "Well, I don't know what white flowers mean, so please don't read any special meaning into them. I just know you like flowers so I got you some."

Uh... okay.

And then he pretty much wraps it up. I hugged him, walked to my car, and that was it. He didn't say, "I'll call you." He didn't ask me to call him so he knew I got home safely (in fact, not one of these guys has asked me that). So I drive home, not knowing if he enjoyed himself or not.

No problem - I have another date scheduled for Sunday. But honestly? Just between you and me? I'm wasn't really excited about that one. However, he seemed nice and when he asked if I wanted to attend a (free) Artown event with him, I didn't have any reason to say no, so I said yes.

When I got home, I sent my Friday night date a quick thank you - after all, maybe he was just feeling a little insecure. Maybe he wasn't sure if I liked him or not. A "thank you, I enjoyed myself" note might let him know that I did. Or it might make him think I'm a stalker. I win or lose with that one, but I took the chance anyway and sent the note.

Fast forward to Sunday - I was not looking forward to this date. I wasn't dreading it, either, though - it's just - well - damn hot outside. Too damn hot to be sitting at an outdoor music festival. Oh wait. Hip Hop Festival. Yes. Hip Hop. But that's all that was going on today (unless we wanted to look at lavender, and I didn't really think that would be his bag). He had kids, though, so he likes hip hop. Go figure.

I met him and we walked over to the music (and I use that term loosely). The place was jam-packed with tattooed kids - girls and boys alike. As I don't have kids, I didn't realize so many parents allowed kids to get tattoos these days. Frankly, I was amazed and kind of people watched for a while.

We found a place in the shade and sat down. Of course, he wanted to sit near the speakers, which made talking kind of impossible. We shouted at each other periodically, "HOW WAS CLASS?" and "LOOK AT THAT GIRL'S CHUCKY TATTOO ON HER STOMACH!" He looked at his phone a few times - texts, I guess. "How rude," is what I thought, but you know, I'm old-fashioned and I guess if I want a guy who doesn't look at texts during a date, I should maybe date an 80-year-old.

After a couple of hours, he said he needed to go - and again it was loud so I am not sure I heard him correctly, but I could swear he said he had to bring his son to the emergency room. Huh? If it was an emergency, then why did you wait two and a half hours?

We walked out of the park together, and he didn't ask if he could walk me to my car - just kind of said good-bye and next time we should do dinner. Uh... okay.

I guess we can do dinner if I make it to my car safely. BY MYSELF.

As I was driving home, I was listening to the radio and Over My Head by The Fray came on. It reminds me so much of those last couple of months with Mr. Kim - especially the line that goes, "And suddenly I become a part of your past, I'm becoming the part that don't last, I'm losing you and it's effortless." Next thing I know, I feel overwhelmingly sad and worthless all at the same time.

I told myself to hang on...I was almost home. I'll be okay. We weren't good together. Because I somehow think if I tell myself that enough, I'll eventually believe it.

When I pulled into my driveway, I breathed a sigh of relief. I'm home. I'm safe. The date is over, the song is over, I can shake it all off.

Hungry, I started making dinner. My pepper shaker was almost empty, so I went into my pantry hoping I had some pepper in there. I started moving things around and I came across this little tiny jar that was on its side. I thought, "what is that? Capers?" I grabbed it and it felt light. Not capers. I looked at it. It was a small jar of rosemary that my mom gave me a month or so before she died.

I lost it. I started to cry. Well, that's a lie. I started to bawl.

I miss my mom so much. And the truth is, I probably wouldn't confess to her all this crap if she was alive. I wouldn't tell her how much it still hurts that Mr. Kim and I broke up. I probably wouldn't tell her how much I question my worth after these dates. I wouldn't tell her how awful I feel about my life right now. But if she were alive, at least I'd have the feeling that someone loved me and cared about me. That small jar of rosemary showed me how much she cared. She knew how much I loved rosemary and how I was so sad that I couldn't keep a rosemary plant alive. So she sent my dad out to the garden (she couldn't walk then) to cut me some rosemary from her plant - in fact, a rosemary plant that I bought her years before that had grown lush and huge in her care.

After I was done crying, I put the jar of rosemary back in the pantry. I don't know if I'll ever use it. I don't know if I could. But it's tangible proof that at some time in my life, I was worth something to someone. And that someone also loved me enough to give me something I wanted.

And now I've got a title for this blog entry, which eases my anxiety about it somewhat. Now if I could just find someone I love who will love me back... unfortunately I'll probably have to go out on a lot more crappy dates before that will happen.

Friday, June 25, 2010

Link to Redemption

So, this guy I dated is a Christian. You might remember me writing about him before - he's the one who said he couldn't date me because I am a witch, but then two seconds later said it was because I was busy, and three seconds after that said it was because he was scared. Yeah, now you remember.

Well, he sent me an email with a link to some Christian lectures on the evils of witchcraft that he thought I should listen to. I told him thanks, but no thanks - I'd heard it all when I was involved with the independent fundamental Baptists, and didn't need to have my memory refreshed.

I ended the email by stating that the Christians also don't condone pre-marital sex, and asked him if he'd like me to forward him some lectures about that.

I still haven't received a reply. I wonder why?

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Wednesday By The Numbers

1) Every time J did something senior specialist-y to my work today, I felt tears of humiliation creep up. No, I didn't actually cry - crying is for sissies. And your mother. Word.

2) The phone rang, but I was nearest to my office phone with the broken Caller I.D. Do I answer and take a chance? Or let it ring? I answered and said, "I hope this isn't a telemarketer." The guy on the other end laughed. Turned out, it was the guy who hooked up my swamp cooler, which brings me to...

3) He told me that he didn't pay attention, and thought perhaps my swamp cooler was on top of my house, so he put his ladder up against my home and climbed on up. He said I'm missing a lot of shingles on my roof. Thank you, Universe. Any thing else you wanna do to screw me?

4) Speaking of screwing, on a whim I went to Goodwill after work. I looked in the protected glass cases to see if there was anything interesting and/or exciting. I saw a book I have on my Amazon wishlist: Mama Gena's School of Womanly Arts. It had a big old sticker on it: Adults Only (hence it being in the locked case). I scratched my head. It's not porn. I asked to see it, just in case I was wrong. Nope. No nudie pics, no talk of positions, lube, or condom usage. It's just a book about being more womanly. I guess the people at Goodwill don't know how to read.

5) Dinner tonight was low carb flax seed tortilla chips, low carb guacamole, wine, and two squares of Lindt 85% chocolate. I think dessert will be another glass of wine.

p.s. I bought the book, but I guess if I want porn tonight I'll have to surf over to slutload dot com. At least it's free.