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?
Thursday, August 26, 2010
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.
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.
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.
Honestly!
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...
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.
Honestly!
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.
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...
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.
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...
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
It is Finished
“I don’t want to marry that girl!” This is what Todd said to me in August of 2009, on an afternoon when we got together for lunch. Lunch turned into sex. Sex turned into a conversation about regrets.
On that afternoon in August, Todd was frustrated and feeling cornered. Kim was forcing his hand. According to him, she first gave him an ultimatum regarding allowing her to move in. Once in, she gave him another ultimatum about marriage. He was frustrated and fearful and unloaded on me.
And I hate to say it: I was heartened. Maybe we would get back together. Maybe there was still hope for us. After all, that same afternoon he told me that she really didn’t even turn him on, and that he often thought about me when he masturbated. He said just the thought of me excited him, and that it took much more to get excited by her.
And yet… a part of me knew he had moved on. He had closed a door on us, because she wanted to have his baby. And be in business with him. And simply take care of him. I was never the nurturing kind. It taxed my energy to go through his depressive stages and deal with his lethargic nature and propensity to procrastinate. The lethargy and procrastination increased when he was depressed, and there times I felt like I was the only one contributing to the upkeep of the house.
But, she enjoys these things. And I have a feeling she thrives in this atmosphere. According to him, she only wants to make his life easier. And while I didn’t want to make his life harder, not at all, I believe I inadvertently did so.
“I don’t want to marry that girl!” I thought of that when I saw their wedding date posted publicly. It hasn’t even been a year since he uttered that sentence, and there it was in black and white: Todd and Kim are getting married. In fact, they did more than announce it – they filed for a marriage license.
I shook with loss after reading that. And yet, in all honesty, I knew this already. Intuitively. I had a dream about it in March, and another dream about it last week. You could say I knew without knowing. However, seeing the official evidence of it was jarring and upsetting and left me feeling like a failure.
I have never tried so hard to make something a success as I did with that relationship. He wanted me to be more this. More that. I did my best to be more this and that, to no avail. It still wasn’t good enough. I was still not enough.
He would often tell me that he loved me more than I loved him, and that bothered him. Twelve years later, I realize that all the time I was the one who loved him more. After all, I was the one who tried to make it work, despite all odds. Despite his disability. Despite his continued ambivalence about our future. But more than that, my love for him was unconditional. I loved him even though – and I never asked him to change.
“I don’t want to marry that girl.” I remember the frustration and anger in his voice when he almost yelled that sentence out. In fact, his emotional outburst surprised me. I hadn’t even asked about their relationship – and yet there it was. And when I thought about that outburst last night, I cried. Another lie – maybe to himself, but a lie nonetheless.
Why can’t I be over him? Why can’t I let go emotionally? Why does this still hurt so much?
I’m not sure I know all the answers, or maybe I do and I’m not ready to write them all out for fear the answers will expose me as being a loser. All I know is that when I read the news last night, I heard the door lock and I felt lonely, lost, and left behind.
On that afternoon in August, Todd was frustrated and feeling cornered. Kim was forcing his hand. According to him, she first gave him an ultimatum regarding allowing her to move in. Once in, she gave him another ultimatum about marriage. He was frustrated and fearful and unloaded on me.
And I hate to say it: I was heartened. Maybe we would get back together. Maybe there was still hope for us. After all, that same afternoon he told me that she really didn’t even turn him on, and that he often thought about me when he masturbated. He said just the thought of me excited him, and that it took much more to get excited by her.
And yet… a part of me knew he had moved on. He had closed a door on us, because she wanted to have his baby. And be in business with him. And simply take care of him. I was never the nurturing kind. It taxed my energy to go through his depressive stages and deal with his lethargic nature and propensity to procrastinate. The lethargy and procrastination increased when he was depressed, and there times I felt like I was the only one contributing to the upkeep of the house.
But, she enjoys these things. And I have a feeling she thrives in this atmosphere. According to him, she only wants to make his life easier. And while I didn’t want to make his life harder, not at all, I believe I inadvertently did so.
“I don’t want to marry that girl!” I thought of that when I saw their wedding date posted publicly. It hasn’t even been a year since he uttered that sentence, and there it was in black and white: Todd and Kim are getting married. In fact, they did more than announce it – they filed for a marriage license.
I shook with loss after reading that. And yet, in all honesty, I knew this already. Intuitively. I had a dream about it in March, and another dream about it last week. You could say I knew without knowing. However, seeing the official evidence of it was jarring and upsetting and left me feeling like a failure.
I have never tried so hard to make something a success as I did with that relationship. He wanted me to be more this. More that. I did my best to be more this and that, to no avail. It still wasn’t good enough. I was still not enough.
He would often tell me that he loved me more than I loved him, and that bothered him. Twelve years later, I realize that all the time I was the one who loved him more. After all, I was the one who tried to make it work, despite all odds. Despite his disability. Despite his continued ambivalence about our future. But more than that, my love for him was unconditional. I loved him even though – and I never asked him to change.
“I don’t want to marry that girl.” I remember the frustration and anger in his voice when he almost yelled that sentence out. In fact, his emotional outburst surprised me. I hadn’t even asked about their relationship – and yet there it was. And when I thought about that outburst last night, I cried. Another lie – maybe to himself, but a lie nonetheless.
Why can’t I be over him? Why can’t I let go emotionally? Why does this still hurt so much?
I’m not sure I know all the answers, or maybe I do and I’m not ready to write them all out for fear the answers will expose me as being a loser. All I know is that when I read the news last night, I heard the door lock and I felt lonely, lost, and left behind.
Wednesday, June 02, 2010
First Child Syndrome
As many of you know, I've been working for a company since December 16th through Applied Staffing as a temp - almost six months for those of you who don't want to take out the calculator. A guy I work with started late March - today I was informed that we are both being hired on FTE.
This should be good news, right? Well, I guess it is - kind of. I mean, yay, benefits. But, at the same time I was informed that I would be taking over one of my co-workers duties, and he would be taking over H's.
I know this is Greek to you: Basically, what it means is that H., who used to be on the same channel, is a T2. As such, she has product launches that need to be off-loaded. Does the more experienced T1 (a.k.a. me, for those of you not in the know) get them? Nope. J gets them.
No wonder he was talking to me about T2 pay today - not only is he getting hired on, but it appears he is on track to be a T2.
And, yes, this upsets me, on several levels. One, that J is getting hired on after only two months, and it took them over five to make up their mind about me. Two, that even though I'm more experienced, they have more confidence in him to run a product launch.
Don't get me wrong: I love J, just like everyone else does. He's easy to like. Calm. Cool. Collected. Knowledge-wise, he's caught on quickly. But without intending to sound like the ugly step-sister, I know what he knows - and probably a bit more. The difference? I've made a few people unhappy on my team.
There are only two reasons why I know this: One, because J. gave me some gentle advice one day about a conversation he overheard after I left work one day. The guys (my whole team is guys - I am the only girl) were upset because I had disputed several Issue Noteds that were given to me.
What is an Issue Noted? It's a "training tool," used to identify mistakes made - which is sent to a QA Team, in the hopes that training would be built around commonly found mistakes. The other guys? When they get an Issue Noted, they move on. But when I get one due to faulty request details or incorrect information given to me, I send a return email back to the Issuer and the QA team, outlining why the mistake was made in the first place.
Simply put: The guys don't like having their part in the mistake highlighted.
I am not bitchy in these emails - I normally am as diplomatic as possible (for me) - but if I'm given the wrong information after I ask how to do a task, and that very same person who gave me the wrong information then writes me up for doing something incorrectly, well - let's just say homey don't play that game.
The reason I know this played into my FTE hiring being delayed and the T2 opportunity being given to J instead of me? Because my boss kind of let it slip - she said she knows that I take the Issue Noteds personally, and that the guys have come to her about that. She said she told them that they don't understand how "girls" feel - and that they tend to take criticism personally. I attempted to nip that in the bud.
I told her that I don't take them personally - and then I laughed and said that, well, not entirely true - in the beginning, when they were called Failed Audit or Failed Validation instead of Issue Noteds, I took them personally. I mean, who wants to see a big FAIL in their inbox when they get to work? But then I told her that yes, I realize the guys think I take them personally, but honestly, if they are the training tool we've been told they are, if X tells me to do something, and then X audits my work and says, "hey, you did this wrong," but I did it wrong because X told me to - well, then we both need to be trained, and the training issue doesn't lie solely with me.
My boss and J are Facebook friends. They IM on and off during the day, talking about movies and stuff. I know when it comes to personality, she simply likes him better. I can't fault her for that - I like him, too. He's a very likable guy. However, because he's so likable, I know that I am being punished for not being as likeable.
I know it takes a while for people to warm up to me. Believe me, I am self-aware. However, I feel that in this case, my work talents were overlooked because of a work relationship that became something more entangled - more personal. And also because J. doesn't dispute the Issue Noteds (even when he admitted to me that there were times he was also given bogus information) - he just rolls with the flow. So, the guys invite him to breakfast and IM him about game nights. But more than that, they used their power as T2s to influence his promotion over me.
I was in the Army, and for a couple of years, I was in a unit that was about 97% male. I know how the good old boy network works. And I feel as if I have been dumped right back into it. I could have taken J's advice and just kept quiet and ignored the bad information. Maybe if I had played nice, I would have gotten hired on sooner. Or been considered for the promotion.
But no - that's not me.
I have what I call First Child Syndrome - or as some people know it: Mommy likes you better than me. As a first child, life is just harder. Those are the scientific facts. Parents are harder on the first child. When they realize that the first child got through major events just fine, they ease up on the second child - they've become more comfortable with child rearing. Somehow though, that first child is still, well, going through firsts. By the time the second or the third comes on through, the parents have it down pat and have relaxed their discipline and their methods. However, this leaves the first child feeling as if Mommy and Daddy like the other kids better.
I went through my whole childhood thinking my parents loved my brother more than me. He got away with murder - I got away with nothing.
My brother was also smarter than me - and this isn't me being hard on myself - it's true. He was smarter. He was in the gifted minors program at school (I realize it's called something different nowadays, but back then that's what it was called). He had a high IQ. He made friends easily.
Life was never easy for me - in fact, I remember my mom saying to me once when I was young that I put in so much more effort than my brother ever did, and still everything came so much harder for me. She was talking about studies, but it really crossed over to everything, from taking me almost a year to learn how to tie my shoes to not being comfortable in my own shoes until I was in my mid-twenties.
At work, it is very clear that I am the ugly step-child. They don't hate me, but they haven't warmed up to me. And because I know this and can feel it, I am not comfortable at work - which just feeds into it.
So today, after being told I was being hired on FTE, instead of being happy, I found myself close to tears. My stomach was tied up in knots. J was going to be promoted - and here I was, six months into it, and still being thought of as the plodding team member, when in reality - if our work was compared side-by-side, it would show I get more done and get it done correctly more often than J. does.
I can't begrudge him this, though - I just wish Mommy liked me as much and saw my potential as well.
This should be good news, right? Well, I guess it is - kind of. I mean, yay, benefits. But, at the same time I was informed that I would be taking over one of my co-workers duties, and he would be taking over H's.
I know this is Greek to you: Basically, what it means is that H., who used to be on the same channel, is a T2. As such, she has product launches that need to be off-loaded. Does the more experienced T1 (a.k.a. me, for those of you not in the know) get them? Nope. J gets them.
No wonder he was talking to me about T2 pay today - not only is he getting hired on, but it appears he is on track to be a T2.
And, yes, this upsets me, on several levels. One, that J is getting hired on after only two months, and it took them over five to make up their mind about me. Two, that even though I'm more experienced, they have more confidence in him to run a product launch.
Don't get me wrong: I love J, just like everyone else does. He's easy to like. Calm. Cool. Collected. Knowledge-wise, he's caught on quickly. But without intending to sound like the ugly step-sister, I know what he knows - and probably a bit more. The difference? I've made a few people unhappy on my team.
There are only two reasons why I know this: One, because J. gave me some gentle advice one day about a conversation he overheard after I left work one day. The guys (my whole team is guys - I am the only girl) were upset because I had disputed several Issue Noteds that were given to me.
What is an Issue Noted? It's a "training tool," used to identify mistakes made - which is sent to a QA Team, in the hopes that training would be built around commonly found mistakes. The other guys? When they get an Issue Noted, they move on. But when I get one due to faulty request details or incorrect information given to me, I send a return email back to the Issuer and the QA team, outlining why the mistake was made in the first place.
Simply put: The guys don't like having their part in the mistake highlighted.
I am not bitchy in these emails - I normally am as diplomatic as possible (for me) - but if I'm given the wrong information after I ask how to do a task, and that very same person who gave me the wrong information then writes me up for doing something incorrectly, well - let's just say homey don't play that game.
The reason I know this played into my FTE hiring being delayed and the T2 opportunity being given to J instead of me? Because my boss kind of let it slip - she said she knows that I take the Issue Noteds personally, and that the guys have come to her about that. She said she told them that they don't understand how "girls" feel - and that they tend to take criticism personally. I attempted to nip that in the bud.
I told her that I don't take them personally - and then I laughed and said that, well, not entirely true - in the beginning, when they were called Failed Audit or Failed Validation instead of Issue Noteds, I took them personally. I mean, who wants to see a big FAIL in their inbox when they get to work? But then I told her that yes, I realize the guys think I take them personally, but honestly, if they are the training tool we've been told they are, if X tells me to do something, and then X audits my work and says, "hey, you did this wrong," but I did it wrong because X told me to - well, then we both need to be trained, and the training issue doesn't lie solely with me.
My boss and J are Facebook friends. They IM on and off during the day, talking about movies and stuff. I know when it comes to personality, she simply likes him better. I can't fault her for that - I like him, too. He's a very likable guy. However, because he's so likable, I know that I am being punished for not being as likeable.
I know it takes a while for people to warm up to me. Believe me, I am self-aware. However, I feel that in this case, my work talents were overlooked because of a work relationship that became something more entangled - more personal. And also because J. doesn't dispute the Issue Noteds (even when he admitted to me that there were times he was also given bogus information) - he just rolls with the flow. So, the guys invite him to breakfast and IM him about game nights. But more than that, they used their power as T2s to influence his promotion over me.
I was in the Army, and for a couple of years, I was in a unit that was about 97% male. I know how the good old boy network works. And I feel as if I have been dumped right back into it. I could have taken J's advice and just kept quiet and ignored the bad information. Maybe if I had played nice, I would have gotten hired on sooner. Or been considered for the promotion.
But no - that's not me.
I have what I call First Child Syndrome - or as some people know it: Mommy likes you better than me. As a first child, life is just harder. Those are the scientific facts. Parents are harder on the first child. When they realize that the first child got through major events just fine, they ease up on the second child - they've become more comfortable with child rearing. Somehow though, that first child is still, well, going through firsts. By the time the second or the third comes on through, the parents have it down pat and have relaxed their discipline and their methods. However, this leaves the first child feeling as if Mommy and Daddy like the other kids better.
I went through my whole childhood thinking my parents loved my brother more than me. He got away with murder - I got away with nothing.
My brother was also smarter than me - and this isn't me being hard on myself - it's true. He was smarter. He was in the gifted minors program at school (I realize it's called something different nowadays, but back then that's what it was called). He had a high IQ. He made friends easily.
Life was never easy for me - in fact, I remember my mom saying to me once when I was young that I put in so much more effort than my brother ever did, and still everything came so much harder for me. She was talking about studies, but it really crossed over to everything, from taking me almost a year to learn how to tie my shoes to not being comfortable in my own shoes until I was in my mid-twenties.
At work, it is very clear that I am the ugly step-child. They don't hate me, but they haven't warmed up to me. And because I know this and can feel it, I am not comfortable at work - which just feeds into it.
So today, after being told I was being hired on FTE, instead of being happy, I found myself close to tears. My stomach was tied up in knots. J was going to be promoted - and here I was, six months into it, and still being thought of as the plodding team member, when in reality - if our work was compared side-by-side, it would show I get more done and get it done correctly more often than J. does.
I can't begrudge him this, though - I just wish Mommy liked me as much and saw my potential as well.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Your Ass is Calling
A guy I dated during the 2009 September-October time frame kept my number in his phone. You wouldn't think this would be a problem, except that he has a bad habit of sitting on his phone, causing it to dial my number in the wee hours of the morning. This has been going on for months - the first time, I called him back, and he said he was sorry - he didn't realize his ass had dialed my number. He apologized, and we hung up.
Then it didn't happen for awhile, but for the last few weeks, I've been receiving odd calls at all hours of the night and morning. The latest call was about 11 p.m., and the earliest about 4 a.m. I know it's his butt, because I check caller ID, and it says, "Jeff's Butt." (Kidding - it really says his place of business, because his phone is company-issued.)
Today was the last straw. I went to bed a little too late last night, and was awakened this morning by the phone. I looked at the clock - it was way too early for a sane person to be calling. Could something be wrong with my dad? "Who could be calling me this early?" I said out loud, to nobody in particular.
I grabbed my glasses and stumbled to the phone. By then, the caller had hung up. I checked Caller ID - "Jeff's Butt" had called. Crap - that's it!
I picked up the phone and dialed his number. "Hi Jeff? This is PJammy. Could you please remove your phone number from your phone? Your butt keeps calling me at wee hours in the morning."
"Hi PJammy, I could remove your number, sure."
"Thanks," I said. "it's appreciated, especially since I know you're not going to call me any more."
He said, incredulous, "I'm not? What makes you think that?"
"It's been months..."
"Oh yeah, I guess you're right," and then he assured me he would remove my number from his phone so his butt would stop calling me.
What surprised me the most, though, wasn't so much how his butt seemed to dial my number every single time it sat on his phone, but that he actually seemed surprised that I would think he would not call me again - he seemed to indicate that he had planned to at some time in the future. This is the fourth time this past month I've had this sort of reaction from someone - I don't get it.
Am I really on that many guys' back burners?
Do I really want an answer to that?
Probably not.
Then it didn't happen for awhile, but for the last few weeks, I've been receiving odd calls at all hours of the night and morning. The latest call was about 11 p.m., and the earliest about 4 a.m. I know it's his butt, because I check caller ID, and it says, "Jeff's Butt." (Kidding - it really says his place of business, because his phone is company-issued.)
Today was the last straw. I went to bed a little too late last night, and was awakened this morning by the phone. I looked at the clock - it was way too early for a sane person to be calling. Could something be wrong with my dad? "Who could be calling me this early?" I said out loud, to nobody in particular.
I grabbed my glasses and stumbled to the phone. By then, the caller had hung up. I checked Caller ID - "Jeff's Butt" had called. Crap - that's it!
I picked up the phone and dialed his number. "Hi Jeff? This is PJammy. Could you please remove your phone number from your phone? Your butt keeps calling me at wee hours in the morning."
"Hi PJammy, I could remove your number, sure."
"Thanks," I said. "it's appreciated, especially since I know you're not going to call me any more."
He said, incredulous, "I'm not? What makes you think that?"
"It's been months..."
"Oh yeah, I guess you're right," and then he assured me he would remove my number from his phone so his butt would stop calling me.
What surprised me the most, though, wasn't so much how his butt seemed to dial my number every single time it sat on his phone, but that he actually seemed surprised that I would think he would not call me again - he seemed to indicate that he had planned to at some time in the future. This is the fourth time this past month I've had this sort of reaction from someone - I don't get it.
Am I really on that many guys' back burners?
Do I really want an answer to that?
Probably not.
Saturday, April 03, 2010
Girlfriend?
Today I went on a date with someone I've been seeing on and off for almost two months. I say on and off, because as you, my ardent fans, may remember, this guy gave me three different reasons why we shouldn't see each other any more (1. I was too busy. 2. I'm a witch. 3. I'm a blogger.)
The date today was nice: he took me to Tahoe and we had lunch at The Hard Rock Cafe. Then, he gave me $10 to gamble with, and we hit the penny slots. I won over 56 free games - and walked away with $37 and some change. Guess my horoscope was right: it was a lucky day with regards to finances.
We walked around town, did a little window shopping, and then decided to call it a day. On the drive back, I realized I really didn't want to date him any more. He's nice, but I just don't get excited at the thought of kissing him. Or even while actually kissing him. We held hands on the way home, and I felt like a traitor, because while he was holding my hand, I was thinking "I've got to break this off."
As he was taking me back to my car, he asked if I might want to see his bachelor pad. I said sure. And then the strangest thing happened... I thought maybe he was going to make a move on me at his apartment, and I actually got kind of excited. Well, okay, more than "kind of" - My Scorpio mind was racing - what would it be like? How do I bring up the subject of protection? Would it feel natural or forced?
As we were walking into his apartment complex, we saw a woman piecing together a jigsaw puzzle. He talked to her for a minute, then said, "Carol, I want you to meet my girlfriend PJammy." Um. Girlfriend? Really? When did that happen? I mean, less than two weeks ago you weren't sure of me again. Now two dates later, we're together?
I mulled this over on the way up to his apartment. As soon as we walked in, he realized he had forgotten something - would I wait while he ran to get it? Sure. He told me to look around, make myself comfortable. So I did.
The apartment looked like it belonged to a college kid. Blow up air mattresses in both bedrooms. Rubbermaid storage containers doubling as tables. A couple of posters tacked up on the walls. When he returned, I mentioned something about the dorm room feel - he said he decided to downsize a few years ago and either sold or gave away most of his furniture.
I think he should try to get it back. There's something kind of sad about a 57-year-old using a Rubbermaid container as a table. Especially when, at one time, he had an actual table to use and for some misguided reason decided that Rubbermaid was the way to go.
He took me to his bedroom to see this art deco nightlight he had. I thought "Here we go. PJammy, are you ready? It's been almost a year since you've done this." It turns out, I didn't have to be ready. Because, really, he only wanted to show me the lamp. Then he said, "Well, let's take you back to your car," and off we went.
My body felt let down, but the rest of me was slightly relieved. We didn't have sex. That makes the decision to break this off a little easier.
Not sure the girlfriend comment does, though. That one I may have to mull over some more...
The date today was nice: he took me to Tahoe and we had lunch at The Hard Rock Cafe. Then, he gave me $10 to gamble with, and we hit the penny slots. I won over 56 free games - and walked away with $37 and some change. Guess my horoscope was right: it was a lucky day with regards to finances.
We walked around town, did a little window shopping, and then decided to call it a day. On the drive back, I realized I really didn't want to date him any more. He's nice, but I just don't get excited at the thought of kissing him. Or even while actually kissing him. We held hands on the way home, and I felt like a traitor, because while he was holding my hand, I was thinking "I've got to break this off."
As he was taking me back to my car, he asked if I might want to see his bachelor pad. I said sure. And then the strangest thing happened... I thought maybe he was going to make a move on me at his apartment, and I actually got kind of excited. Well, okay, more than "kind of" - My Scorpio mind was racing - what would it be like? How do I bring up the subject of protection? Would it feel natural or forced?
As we were walking into his apartment complex, we saw a woman piecing together a jigsaw puzzle. He talked to her for a minute, then said, "Carol, I want you to meet my girlfriend PJammy." Um. Girlfriend? Really? When did that happen? I mean, less than two weeks ago you weren't sure of me again. Now two dates later, we're together?
I mulled this over on the way up to his apartment. As soon as we walked in, he realized he had forgotten something - would I wait while he ran to get it? Sure. He told me to look around, make myself comfortable. So I did.
The apartment looked like it belonged to a college kid. Blow up air mattresses in both bedrooms. Rubbermaid storage containers doubling as tables. A couple of posters tacked up on the walls. When he returned, I mentioned something about the dorm room feel - he said he decided to downsize a few years ago and either sold or gave away most of his furniture.
I think he should try to get it back. There's something kind of sad about a 57-year-old using a Rubbermaid container as a table. Especially when, at one time, he had an actual table to use and for some misguided reason decided that Rubbermaid was the way to go.
He took me to his bedroom to see this art deco nightlight he had. I thought "Here we go. PJammy, are you ready? It's been almost a year since you've done this." It turns out, I didn't have to be ready. Because, really, he only wanted to show me the lamp. Then he said, "Well, let's take you back to your car," and off we went.
My body felt let down, but the rest of me was slightly relieved. We didn't have sex. That makes the decision to break this off a little easier.
Not sure the girlfriend comment does, though. That one I may have to mull over some more...
Thursday, April 01, 2010
Back To The Future
For the last few months, I've wished I had a time machine. I wouldn't want to go back too far - 10 years outta do it. I would love to go back to the year 2000. That was the year the X-Factor and I went on a "break." He wasn't sure if I could fulfill his needs. He thought our differences might get in the way of us enjoying a lifetime together. He also knew I was a monogamous kind of girl and he wanted to play the field - "sow" his oats (as he put it).
That was in August of 2000. We had tentative plans to meet again 3 months later to see how we felt. One month was enough for me.
I questioned myself. Couldn't I try harder? Couldn't I be more of the type of girlfriend he wanted? So, I asked him out on a date in October. We went back and forth until December, when I demanded that he make a decision between me and another girl he was seeing.
He chose me.
If I could go back 10 years, I would go back to that break period - I would have dated more people. I would have gone out more with my friends and family. And maybe, just maybe, I would have been better off if he had decided three months down the road to stay with Allyson.
See, I think I wasted the next 8 years holding on to someone who wasn't right for me. That point really hit home last night when I was reading "Mars and Venus on a Date." I don't even know why I bought it, really - it was at the Goodwill store and seemed like a bargain for $1.99. In the first chapter, John Gray said, "Sometimes love is not enough."
Yes, it's an old saying. He's definitely not the person to coin the phrase. However, he clarified it by going further, deeper. He said, and I paraphrase, that one of the biggest mistakes men and women make in a relationship is that, after falling in love, they don't acknowledge that sometimes love isn't enough. They don't want to admit that, even though they may love each other, they are not right for each other. That they won't be able to build a future together.
I know this was my mistake.
See, I remember the X-Factor saying this often - that love was not enough. And I acknowledged he was right, but then added my own justifications and protestations: We had what it takes. We were working through our problems - we would get there. And the worst one of all: I could change.
The truth is, I couldn't. I mean, I did all that I could. And I know I changed some - but never enough for him. And I hate to say it, but I don't know that I have a right to be angry with him about that. Oh I definitely have a right to be angry at him for other things - for lies. For the way he strung me along. But the other? Yes, that was my own doing.
In thinking about this further today, I realized that part of the reason I hung in there was because I am more of a romantic than I ever thought I was. I always poo-poo the notion of romance. I'm a realist. I know that romance dies slowly after the honeymoon stage. It kind of peters out slowly... and then before you know it, it's gone.
And yes, while that may be true about romantic gestures and words, the truth is that I had this idea that, even though I KNEW love might not be enough, that it actually was enough. I can't believe I fooled myself in that regard. And I know some if this isn't as simple as I make it out to be - I made allowances because of his disability, of his actual inability to understand someone else's feelings. But still... I thought that love could see us through his disability.
I realize that his current girlfriend is probably a better fit for him. Another book I got from the Goodwill is "Why Men Marry Some Women and not Others." (I know! What's wrong with me? I guess I can't pass up a book bargain - even if it is a relationship book.) The author states that men marry women who push/guide the relationship towards marriage. Women who press for a commitment. Sure, they might not marry every woman who pushes - but it's the pushing that forces them to evaluate the partner and decide if they want to go further or not.
I never pushed.
Should I have? I wonder. I remember a time after our engagement - I wanted an October wedding, and every time I brought it up, he would panic. So, I stopped bringing it up. I told him he could have time to process and decide. Wrong choice to give a procrastinator. He never decided or made a choice.
And so our relationship lasted almost a full eleven years. I would say anything past the first two years was a mistake. The break we took in 2000 should have been the breaking point. I never should have moved to Nevada to follow him, especially without a wedding date in place.
But I did.
Is my life better because of it? In some ways it is. My spiritual journey really took an intense and interesting turn when I got here. But in other ways, this move has been one of the worst things I ever did in my life. I had my own home in California. And savings. I lost both in the move - the home, and the savings when I couldn't get a job in Nevada.
Do I regret what I did?
It's difficult to say yes. It's difficult because I have better friends here than I had in California. I have more learning opportunities when it comes to spiritual things. And I can finally have what I always wanted: straight hair. The dry air here allows me to straighten my hair and keep it that way, without worrying about frizzies or unexpected curls.
Yes, that's a silly reason to like it here. I know - but for my hair, it's a dream come true.
The thing is, there's another saying that holds true: Don't cry over spilt milk. I did what I did, and it kind of doesn't matter - it's done and over with, now I have to deal with it.
"When life deals you lemons, make lemonade." And I guess I have - against all odds (my shyness, the transient nature of the Reno/Sparks area), I have made a life for myself here. I have some wonderful friends. An active women's group. A home I enjoy.
If there really was such a thing as a time machine would I get in it, knowing what I know now? Surrounded by this life I carved for myself? The answer is yes, but in all honesty I'm glad there isn't such an easy fix available. It's kind of fun to make lemonade.
That was in August of 2000. We had tentative plans to meet again 3 months later to see how we felt. One month was enough for me.
I questioned myself. Couldn't I try harder? Couldn't I be more of the type of girlfriend he wanted? So, I asked him out on a date in October. We went back and forth until December, when I demanded that he make a decision between me and another girl he was seeing.
He chose me.
If I could go back 10 years, I would go back to that break period - I would have dated more people. I would have gone out more with my friends and family. And maybe, just maybe, I would have been better off if he had decided three months down the road to stay with Allyson.
See, I think I wasted the next 8 years holding on to someone who wasn't right for me. That point really hit home last night when I was reading "Mars and Venus on a Date." I don't even know why I bought it, really - it was at the Goodwill store and seemed like a bargain for $1.99. In the first chapter, John Gray said, "Sometimes love is not enough."
Yes, it's an old saying. He's definitely not the person to coin the phrase. However, he clarified it by going further, deeper. He said, and I paraphrase, that one of the biggest mistakes men and women make in a relationship is that, after falling in love, they don't acknowledge that sometimes love isn't enough. They don't want to admit that, even though they may love each other, they are not right for each other. That they won't be able to build a future together.
I know this was my mistake.
See, I remember the X-Factor saying this often - that love was not enough. And I acknowledged he was right, but then added my own justifications and protestations: We had what it takes. We were working through our problems - we would get there. And the worst one of all: I could change.
The truth is, I couldn't. I mean, I did all that I could. And I know I changed some - but never enough for him. And I hate to say it, but I don't know that I have a right to be angry with him about that. Oh I definitely have a right to be angry at him for other things - for lies. For the way he strung me along. But the other? Yes, that was my own doing.
In thinking about this further today, I realized that part of the reason I hung in there was because I am more of a romantic than I ever thought I was. I always poo-poo the notion of romance. I'm a realist. I know that romance dies slowly after the honeymoon stage. It kind of peters out slowly... and then before you know it, it's gone.
And yes, while that may be true about romantic gestures and words, the truth is that I had this idea that, even though I KNEW love might not be enough, that it actually was enough. I can't believe I fooled myself in that regard. And I know some if this isn't as simple as I make it out to be - I made allowances because of his disability, of his actual inability to understand someone else's feelings. But still... I thought that love could see us through his disability.
I realize that his current girlfriend is probably a better fit for him. Another book I got from the Goodwill is "Why Men Marry Some Women and not Others." (I know! What's wrong with me? I guess I can't pass up a book bargain - even if it is a relationship book.) The author states that men marry women who push/guide the relationship towards marriage. Women who press for a commitment. Sure, they might not marry every woman who pushes - but it's the pushing that forces them to evaluate the partner and decide if they want to go further or not.
I never pushed.
Should I have? I wonder. I remember a time after our engagement - I wanted an October wedding, and every time I brought it up, he would panic. So, I stopped bringing it up. I told him he could have time to process and decide. Wrong choice to give a procrastinator. He never decided or made a choice.
And so our relationship lasted almost a full eleven years. I would say anything past the first two years was a mistake. The break we took in 2000 should have been the breaking point. I never should have moved to Nevada to follow him, especially without a wedding date in place.
But I did.
Is my life better because of it? In some ways it is. My spiritual journey really took an intense and interesting turn when I got here. But in other ways, this move has been one of the worst things I ever did in my life. I had my own home in California. And savings. I lost both in the move - the home, and the savings when I couldn't get a job in Nevada.
Do I regret what I did?
It's difficult to say yes. It's difficult because I have better friends here than I had in California. I have more learning opportunities when it comes to spiritual things. And I can finally have what I always wanted: straight hair. The dry air here allows me to straighten my hair and keep it that way, without worrying about frizzies or unexpected curls.
Yes, that's a silly reason to like it here. I know - but for my hair, it's a dream come true.
The thing is, there's another saying that holds true: Don't cry over spilt milk. I did what I did, and it kind of doesn't matter - it's done and over with, now I have to deal with it.
"When life deals you lemons, make lemonade." And I guess I have - against all odds (my shyness, the transient nature of the Reno/Sparks area), I have made a life for myself here. I have some wonderful friends. An active women's group. A home I enjoy.
If there really was such a thing as a time machine would I get in it, knowing what I know now? Surrounded by this life I carved for myself? The answer is yes, but in all honesty I'm glad there isn't such an easy fix available. It's kind of fun to make lemonade.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Up In Smoke
Some days, hearing the latest news just angers me. Today is one of those days.
A Florida jury awarded $26.6 million to a smoker's widow. The widow's husband died of lung cancer.
I am outraged that she was awarded this money. She knew the hazards of marrying someone with a smoking habit. Plus, he was a grown-up and made his own choices - he chose to smoke, knowing there could be consequences. So, why should R.J. Reynolds and Philip Morris have to pay?
The truth is, they shouldn't.
I am not a smoker, nor do I think smoking is a smart choice for anyone. But the fact remains: one of the industries that helped America flourish is the tobacco industry. Years ago, we were all over smoking like white on rice. Then it was identified as having certain health risks, and slowly but surely tobacco became the scourge of the nation.
I'm not sure why we, as a nation, have come to vilify tobacco use while we stand up and cheer for legalized marijuana usage. We also stand idly by while our children are over diagnosed with ADD or ADHD and filled with Ritilin. We tout the wonders of alcohol. We ruin our hearing with loud music through our ear buds. We drink water filled with plasticized toxins from clear plastic bottles. We push to get drugs passed quickly through the FDA, apparently not learning anything from drugs like Fen-Fen and Thalidomide.
Believe me, I'm not condoning tobacco use. In fact, my mom died from emphysema. However, I do believe in her right to choose. She chose to smoke. She enjoyed it. She decided to quit a few years ago, and still got sick. Her last months were not fun for her. This I know. But, it was her right to choose how to live, even if it contributed to how she died.
What I do condone, promote and celebrate is our right as a nation to choose. My "drug" of choice is alcohol. I am not a lush or an alcoholic. But when I want to unwind, I turn to a glass of wine or a bottle of beer. Sometimes I choose a a healthier option: walking. Yoga. Reading. A bath. But yes sometimes I do the easy thing and pour a glass of wine.
Smokers' rights are pretty much non-existent at this point in time. As a nation, we have hammered down one of the industries that provided a lot of jobs to our country. A smoker should have rights. They should be able to smoke if they want to. The thing is, it is getting harder and harder for smokers to smoke - even in their very own homes.
I find this fact abhorrent.
We silently cheer the fact that they can't smoke. Yay! we say, as we enjoy our smokeless environment. But what many people don't realize is that by allowing the government to dictate what smokers are able, or rather not able, to do, we are giving them permission to take away more of our rights.
We say "Yay" now, but how will we react when rights that hit closer to home are taken away? Or will we even notice? I'm afraid by the time rights that are near and dear to our hearts are taken away, we'll be so used to the government taking things away that we'll be numb to it.
So to all you sheeple out there who think this broad deserved 26.6 million dollars, I tell you this: you just opened up another door to frivolous action suits and your idle apathy is slowly erasing our right to choose. To that I say, you are all a bunch of robotic morons and are screwing it up for those of us who fought hard to keep America an independent nation.
A Florida jury awarded $26.6 million to a smoker's widow. The widow's husband died of lung cancer.
I am outraged that she was awarded this money. She knew the hazards of marrying someone with a smoking habit. Plus, he was a grown-up and made his own choices - he chose to smoke, knowing there could be consequences. So, why should R.J. Reynolds and Philip Morris have to pay?
The truth is, they shouldn't.
I am not a smoker, nor do I think smoking is a smart choice for anyone. But the fact remains: one of the industries that helped America flourish is the tobacco industry. Years ago, we were all over smoking like white on rice. Then it was identified as having certain health risks, and slowly but surely tobacco became the scourge of the nation.
I'm not sure why we, as a nation, have come to vilify tobacco use while we stand up and cheer for legalized marijuana usage. We also stand idly by while our children are over diagnosed with ADD or ADHD and filled with Ritilin. We tout the wonders of alcohol. We ruin our hearing with loud music through our ear buds. We drink water filled with plasticized toxins from clear plastic bottles. We push to get drugs passed quickly through the FDA, apparently not learning anything from drugs like Fen-Fen and Thalidomide.
Believe me, I'm not condoning tobacco use. In fact, my mom died from emphysema. However, I do believe in her right to choose. She chose to smoke. She enjoyed it. She decided to quit a few years ago, and still got sick. Her last months were not fun for her. This I know. But, it was her right to choose how to live, even if it contributed to how she died.
What I do condone, promote and celebrate is our right as a nation to choose. My "drug" of choice is alcohol. I am not a lush or an alcoholic. But when I want to unwind, I turn to a glass of wine or a bottle of beer. Sometimes I choose a a healthier option: walking. Yoga. Reading. A bath. But yes sometimes I do the easy thing and pour a glass of wine.
Smokers' rights are pretty much non-existent at this point in time. As a nation, we have hammered down one of the industries that provided a lot of jobs to our country. A smoker should have rights. They should be able to smoke if they want to. The thing is, it is getting harder and harder for smokers to smoke - even in their very own homes.
I find this fact abhorrent.
We silently cheer the fact that they can't smoke. Yay! we say, as we enjoy our smokeless environment. But what many people don't realize is that by allowing the government to dictate what smokers are able, or rather not able, to do, we are giving them permission to take away more of our rights.
We say "Yay" now, but how will we react when rights that hit closer to home are taken away? Or will we even notice? I'm afraid by the time rights that are near and dear to our hearts are taken away, we'll be so used to the government taking things away that we'll be numb to it.
So to all you sheeple out there who think this broad deserved 26.6 million dollars, I tell you this: you just opened up another door to frivolous action suits and your idle apathy is slowly erasing our right to choose. To that I say, you are all a bunch of robotic morons and are screwing it up for those of us who fought hard to keep America an independent nation.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Dumped
Although I was keeping it on the down low, for the last month I have been dating someone. Only a few friends knew, because this guy is someone who was liked, or should I say “like liked,” by some women in my circle. So, instead of rousing jealousy without need, I didn’t mention it – figuring that if the relationship fizzled, no harm done and no feelings were hurt (except maybe mine).
I’m not going to sit here and say the guy was everything I wanted and more. He wasn’t. But, I saw potential. Just because he didn’t meet all my parameters (age, height, number of past marriages), that didn’t mean he was out of the running. He treated me well. He was complimentary. And he seemed communicative.
Turns out “seemed” is the operative word.
We had dinner plans for Tuesday – he was going to come over for corned beef and cabbage. I was excited to be having him over for the first time. And then it happened – the dreaded dump email. Yes, email.
“Peej, let’s hold off on dinner…” was how he started, and went on to find all kinds of reasons that, while he could see himself falling in love with me, he could no longer date me. The main reason he stated was my “busy-ness.” I was always doing something, and he didn’t have confidence that I could live a quiet lifestyle. I explained to him that I often filled my time with extracurricular activities because I was single – but if in an exclusive relationship, of course my priorities would change.
Turns out, it’s not the busy-ness. It’s the whole witch “thing” as he put it.
I find this irritating and annoying and maddening. Why? Because 1) he knew I was a witch going into this. 2) We have never discussed it. He hasn’t asked me any questions about it, and I don’t bring it up. I wasn’t going to try to convert him or anything. And, if he would have ever bothered to ask me, he would have discovered that spiritually, we have a lot of the same beliefs, including the big one: God.
I am also irritated because while he says he’s a Christian and therefore cannot be cavorting with a witch, he doesn’t go to church (as least as far as I’ve been able to determine from how he spends his Sundays). He doesn’t pray before eating. He doesn’t tote around a bible. In fact, he’s never mentioned his faith, his beliefs, or his spirituality.
That aside, as I mentioned before, he never discussed these issues with me. My lifestyle. What I do. According to him, I’m gentle. Tender. Nice. “The perfect woman.” (His words – not mine.)
I have determined the real issue here is that he’s not ready for a relationship. These excuses are – well – excuses. They would hold weight if he had discussed them with me. Explored them with me. Found me to be unwilling to make allowances for him in my life. But no, he just made a blanket assumption, and that angers me. Because in every other way, he did everything he could to express his interest in pushing us further. He told me he hoped we would become exclusive. He bought me presents. Contacted me several times a day. Complimented me almost to the point of overkill.
So, if I’m all that and a bag of chips – the woman he could see himself falling in love with – why the sudden exit?
I know the answer and it angers me. But, I’m not one to hold a grudge – instead, I’m just moving on. Got any single guy friends you wanna fix me up with?
I’m not going to sit here and say the guy was everything I wanted and more. He wasn’t. But, I saw potential. Just because he didn’t meet all my parameters (age, height, number of past marriages), that didn’t mean he was out of the running. He treated me well. He was complimentary. And he seemed communicative.
Turns out “seemed” is the operative word.
We had dinner plans for Tuesday – he was going to come over for corned beef and cabbage. I was excited to be having him over for the first time. And then it happened – the dreaded dump email. Yes, email.
“Peej, let’s hold off on dinner…” was how he started, and went on to find all kinds of reasons that, while he could see himself falling in love with me, he could no longer date me. The main reason he stated was my “busy-ness.” I was always doing something, and he didn’t have confidence that I could live a quiet lifestyle. I explained to him that I often filled my time with extracurricular activities because I was single – but if in an exclusive relationship, of course my priorities would change.
Turns out, it’s not the busy-ness. It’s the whole witch “thing” as he put it.
I find this irritating and annoying and maddening. Why? Because 1) he knew I was a witch going into this. 2) We have never discussed it. He hasn’t asked me any questions about it, and I don’t bring it up. I wasn’t going to try to convert him or anything. And, if he would have ever bothered to ask me, he would have discovered that spiritually, we have a lot of the same beliefs, including the big one: God.
I am also irritated because while he says he’s a Christian and therefore cannot be cavorting with a witch, he doesn’t go to church (as least as far as I’ve been able to determine from how he spends his Sundays). He doesn’t pray before eating. He doesn’t tote around a bible. In fact, he’s never mentioned his faith, his beliefs, or his spirituality.
That aside, as I mentioned before, he never discussed these issues with me. My lifestyle. What I do. According to him, I’m gentle. Tender. Nice. “The perfect woman.” (His words – not mine.)
I have determined the real issue here is that he’s not ready for a relationship. These excuses are – well – excuses. They would hold weight if he had discussed them with me. Explored them with me. Found me to be unwilling to make allowances for him in my life. But no, he just made a blanket assumption, and that angers me. Because in every other way, he did everything he could to express his interest in pushing us further. He told me he hoped we would become exclusive. He bought me presents. Contacted me several times a day. Complimented me almost to the point of overkill.
So, if I’m all that and a bag of chips – the woman he could see himself falling in love with – why the sudden exit?
I know the answer and it angers me. But, I’m not one to hold a grudge – instead, I’m just moving on. Got any single guy friends you wanna fix me up with?
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