Why Can't We Be Friends?

I seen you 'round for a long long time
I really 'membered you when you drink my wine

Why can't we be friends?
Why can't we be friends?
Why can't we be friends?
Why can't we be friends?
---War

Last week, Todd said "I don't understand why we still can't be friends." I know what I said back to him, but that wasn't the complete response. No, I took the safe and easy way out - oh my response was truthful, but it wasn't the whole truth.

Here is the real truth, or as I like to call them The Seven Deadly Sins:

1) Eight years of lies. Okay, well we've been together for 10 years, but I would say that the first two years were relatively honest years, or at least what I can remember of them. No, I think the lies started some time after our Ross-And-Rachel break of 2000. We got back together because he said he wanted to be with me. The truth was, he did not. Ever since that time, he has had a roving eye.

2) Ten years of manipulation. From the moment we became exclusive, Todd started to manipulate me in order to get me to become the mate he wanted. "I could never be with someone who didn't have (this kind of) sex." So, I started to have "that kind" of sex.

Next: "I can't be with someone who isn't nurturing." Okay, so I never really fixed that, because I am not a nurturer by nature. But I became more nurturing, paying close attention to his needs and trying my hardest to fill them.

Next: "I need you to be a life partner. You need to make some real changes in order to become that." Well, this was a difficult one to tackle, and I never got it right. Of course, I never got it right, because of the next item on my list:

3) He didn't let me into his life. Oh yes, he wanted me to be his life partner. He ranted and raved about it. But, you see, he set me up for failure. I could never be his life partner, because he didn't let me into his life. He didn't introduce me to his friends. He wouldn't allow me to attend the local BDSM meetings with him. He wouldn't even invite me to his game nights. (He waited until I was out of town to host them at the house.)

Oh he'll say "But I introduced you to my family." Well, that's kind of true. I say "kind of," because the few times I attended family events with him, he didn't introduce me to anyone. No, his family members all introduced themselves to me. Or I'd introduce myself to them. But when we were all seated together, he wouldn't include me in conversations or ask me to join him if he was going to another part of the room to talk to various other family members. He would just leave me on my own.

4) Roving eye. He was never satisfied with me, and he let me know that, both through word and through action. Even before we were broken up, he opened several online accounts through which he used to flirt with and contact other women. If confronted, he would give it up for a while (or so it seemed). But then sooner or later evidence of this would reappear, and would cause more strife between us. Which brings me to my next reason:

5) "You make me crazy." These words were often said to me by Todd in anger and frustration. I was the cause of his anguish. I was the one who was making waves. It was me who added undue stress in his life. So, if I complained about his flirting with other women, or questioned his treatment of me, or brought up any other number of valid concerns, he would get angry and turn it around on me. I made him angry - how dare I? And yet, now I see that I had every right and reason to bring up those things to him. I am just sorry that I let his turning it around on me go on for so long.

6) He led me on. For the last two years, we've been, well, I don't know - not on a break, but supposedly by his terms "redefining our relationship." The way I understood it was that he needed certain things and needed to set certain boundaries, and we'd see how it would go from there.

The thing is, "we" were supposed to be redefining our relationship, but in all actuality, he was redefining our relationship. And that might have been something we could have worked through, if he hadn't kept the new definition a secret from me.

During the last couple of years, the rules of engagement were constantly changing. It to got the point where I had no idea where I stood, how I should act, and what he wanted from me. If I asked him, I would get one of the following two responses: "You drive me crazy!" or "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?"

Um, the truth would have been nice.

7) Lies of a sexual nature. I know what you're thinking: "you covered lies already." Well, yes and no. The lies I was referring to in item number 1 were the lies that he told us both (himself and me) that our relationship was important to him. "You are the most important person in my life." If I had a dollar for every time he told me that in the last ten years, I'd be a rich woman. Yet, I couldn't have been that important, as he wouldn't let me into his life (see item 3).

No, the lies of a sexual nature are actually, in a lot of ways, more hurtful. See, I can perhaps even understand how he could lie to himself and me regarding the seriousness of our relationship (as I think he believed this lie to be true). But I can't understand how he would not let me into his sexual world, and instead choose to share his sexual needs with others.

I didn't even really know this was going on until recently. I found something at the house, and all of a sudden things started to make complete sense. A Disney princess bag that contained a pacifier (in a sealed baggie), a teddy bear and a blanket - this bag appeared after a weekend I spent with my folks. I thought it belonged to his friend's little girl, until I met the girl: she is approximately ten years old. And while she might have a teddy bear, she certainly wouldn't have a pacifier. It dawned on me last week when I came across something else as I was moving items: he must have hosted a sex party that weekend, and had some age play going on in the house.

I figured this out after I found boxes and boxes and boxes of condoms and some sex toys- sex toys I didn't even know he had. Sex toys he had never used in our own sexual adventures. Sex toys he hid from me, so I wouldn't find them.

When all of this dawned on me, I felt nauseous and dizzy. He had been lying to me for ages. He put my sexual health at risk. And, once again, it was another area of his life he wouldn't let me in to. Why wouldn't he choose to play these games with me? Why wouldn't he ever bring them up with me? Instead, he decided that his life partner (ha) wasn't good enough to play with, but his friends obviously were.

One other thing: after that weekend, you know, the weekend I was at my parent's house and he was apparently having just a regular "games" night at the house, I found a girl's ring in the bedroom. It didn't belong to me. I asked him about it. He played dumb. Then he said he asked the cleaning girl about it, and she said she had found it in the living room. He told me that someone must have taken it off while playing games.

Well, that never made sense to me. Why would a girl take off a ring if they were playing a board game? Now it all makes sense - it wasn't board games, it was sex games.

How stupid am I not to have put this all together sooner? (Don't answer that!)

As for "friends," no I don't think I could be friends with Todd again. Or at least, not for a very long time. I am so mad and hurt and confused. How could someone who professed to only have my best interest at heart actually be so destructive to our relationship? How could someone who claimed that I was the "most important person" in his life actually bend over backwards to prove otherwise through words and action?

But you know, I can't just blame him. Oh I want to. Believe me, I want to. However, I put up with this for ten years. Ten fucking years I was hanging on with a wing and a prayer. I chose to only hear the good things: the I Love Yous and the You Are The Most Important Person In The World To Mes and the I Can't Imagine What My Life Would Be Without Yous. I'm stupid for focusing on that, when in fact I should have been focusing on how badly he treated me.

Yes, I should have broken up with him a long time ago - in fact, if I was the smart woman I pretend I am, I should have never gone back to him in 2000. Just think of how different my life would be -

But it's not different and I made a huge mistake. I wasted ten years with someone who never really wanted me in the first place. What he really wanted was someone to hang out with until someone else better came along.

I don't even think I have the right to cry about this - after all, I made my bed and now I have to lie in it. That doesn't mean I can't wash the sheets, though, and try to clean it up a bit. And that's what I'm doing now - cleaning up and moving on.

So why can't we be friends? Because honey, obviously we never really were friends in the first place.

Ideas...

"When does school let out for you? They can't possibly keep you there all evening! Anyway, give me a shout. I've got . . . ideas."

This is how an email from Mr. Wonderful to me began, and I have to say, it got my libido running on full speed. Ideas... that could be so many things! I love how it's left open to my imagination.

So, a call was made and plans were solidified - after class, I will be going to his place. This time, I will be prepared. Toothbrush. Toothpaste. Maybe a change of underwear. Because I know what one of his ideas is... and I'm okay with that. After all, it's not like I have to work tomorrow.

Making Friends With Aunt Flo

So...Friday night I went over to Mr. Wonderful's place. He took me out for a nice dinner at the Brew House, and then we went back to his place to watch "Dogma." Of course, I knew a movie wasn't the only thing planned for the evening... but was still trying to figure out how to maneuver around Aunt Flo's unwelcome presence.

It turns out I didn't have to worry at all. Mr. Wonderful is not turned off by Aunt Flo. And while we still didn't exactly consummate our relationship, he decided to take a trip down south, and let's just say "O" is no longer just a magazine to me.

Dinner, Dogma and the big "O." I feel like the Queen of the Earth.

Mr. Wonderful

Ever since our semi-intimate night together, Mr. Wonderful has been sending me emails full of compliments and flattery. He can't wait to see me again. He thinks I'm a fabulous kisser. And then there's the one that is most near and dear to my heart: he thinks I'm funny, and he "loves" that I am.

It's gotten to the point that I am almost counting the hours until our next date. I think about his hands gently brushing up against my body. I think about his passionate kisses. I remember his eagerness to please me. I catch myself moaning out loud and blush.

As they say, timing is everything, and unfortunately for me my Aunt Flo is visiting. So, I have a feeling our Friday night date won't be as hot as our Sunday night date was. However, I am looking forward to seeing what we can do to to please each other while avoiding Aunt Flo's unwelcome presence. I'm sure we can come up with something that will be mutually pleasing to the both of us. And if we can't, there's always Netflix.

Not Allowed

The other day when I was at Todd's packing up some of my stuff, he asked me if I would sit with him and have a cup of coffee. He wanted to talk, and while I'm all done talking, I could see it was important to him so I sat down with him and talked.

After we got the "us" stuff out of the way, he asked me about Mr. Wonderful. I hesitated in answering, and he said that perhaps he had no right asking, but he was genuinely interested in what was going on.

For some reason that I couldn't immediately identify, I felt resentful and private. I didn't want to share; this was mine. And then I realized that no harm could come from me sharing some of the details, so I updated him on what was going on with Mr. W and myself.

It wasn't until later, when I was home, that I realized what caused my hesitancy in responding. It is because I feel that in asking, he was not just getting information, but that he was also seeking validation - perhaps unconsciously - that he made the right choice in replacing me with Kim.

It is my belief that he can now tell himself "See, I did the right thing. She has moved on and this is better for her." But that's not true at all. My current relationship has nothing to do with my past relationship, in that it's not the reason I left Todd. And it's definitely not a replacement for Todd.

Todd is not allowed any reprieve for his recent unfair actions to me - in holding on to me, even though he knew he didn't want me any more. In keeping me around, just because he wasn't ready to let go. In leading me to believe he was working on our relationship, when he freely admitted on Monday that was never the case - that he already knew he wanted something - someone - else.

No, my budding relationship with Mr. W does not exist so Todd can feel good about his decisions and/or his actions towards me. He has no right to use this to assuage any guilt he might feel. It is for that reason that I wanted to keep this to myself for now. But I didn't - I spilled - and now I'm just not sure I did the right thing. Because the right thing isn't to let him feel good about what he did to me. No, the right thing is for me to believe I did a good thing in letting him go.

And I know I did - but I'm still coming to terms with it. It'll take time, and between you and me, Mr. Wonderful is helping with that. But Todd doesn't have to know that, does he?

Naked Lunch

Well, okay, in my case it was a naked dinner...or rather, nakedness after dinner. Does it really matter the order in which it all happened? The only important part of this story is that I got to see a man unclothe himself, while I was wearing my glasses. For those of you who are not visually challenged, this means I got to see everything in Technicolor, and without any blurry lines.

Oh wait. Would you like an explanation? More of a story, perhaps? Well, for those of you not in the know, I have been dating someone new. Yes, as hard as it might be to believe, it is true. I haven't scared him off yet. Go figure!

His name is...well, I probably shouldn't reveal his name without his permission, so I'll just call him what Todd calls him: Mr. Wonderful. He's ten years younger than me, is a merchant sailor, and has an odd sense of humor. However, as his very first email to me left me laughing out loud, I knew I had to meet him.

He was already aces in my book because he asked me to Claim Jumper. Yes, I might have written about that already. Believe you me, though, Claim Jumper is always worth mentioning again. Anyway, he was very physical on the first and second date, and then not at all on the third date. On the fourth date, I got a hug and a sound. "Ummmmmmmmmm" was what he uttered when he hugged me.

Okay, so I got an "Ummmmmm" but no kiss. So, perhaps I was a bit confused, but I hid it well when he asked me if he could call me again. I said "Sure thing, hunkarama." He said "Cool," and turned to walk to his motorcycle. I wasn't prepared for what happened next.

He turned around and asked, "What do you want to get out of this?" Uh, huh? Out of a dinner at Claim Jumper (see? Claim Jumper was so good the first time, we had a repeat performance!). I was confused. I think I might have said "Uh...." I'm sure I sounded quite intelligent.

He continued. "You're not hoping for anything serious are you? Because I've been thinking about this a lot, and it's really stressing me out. I'm gone for four months at a time, and I'm not sure I want to worry about a relationship that I can't tend to while I'm away."

"Well, I understand about the requirements of your job, and I have no problem with that."

"Well..." he started and I thought to myself "Oh this can't be good." He mentioned an ex-girlfriend who he keeps in touch with, but no longer has a relationship with, and doesn't even want to go there...and I was starting to feel lost when he reeled it back in to the person who is really important in this equation: me.

He asked me if he could continue to call me and see me, and I said "Sure, I'd like that." I mean, really, after the disaster that was my last relationship, do I really want to get all serious and stuff about someone else so quickly? The answer to that question, dear readers, is no.

So then I said "Are you going to be around this weekend?" Now it was his turn to look confused. Perhaps he didn't think I heard a word he said. I didn't care - I threw caution to the wind. "Maybe you'd like to come over for dinner on Sunday if you're around."

He said sure, and we left it at that. Well, one thing led to another, and Saturday came and went and I hadn't had a chance to call him. Then I had a brilliant idea: I'd pull a Mr. Wonderful and call him on the same day as the date! But, he beat me to the punch. Late Saturday night, I received a call from him. "PJammy," he said "I believe you offered to have me over for dinner tomorrow. Does that offer still stand?"

Why yes, yes it did. I told him that I have a shoeless policy at my house, so he'd have to take off his shoes in the hallway. I added "Don't worry; I won't ask you to take anything else off...at least until after dinner."

Let me tell you something, readers: it sucks to reach my age and discover you only have only had one sexual partner. Time to experiment! It's especially good to experiment with someone who doesn't plan on getting serious. Or at least, that's what Cosmo says.

So, I made all the appropriate preparations. Straightened up the house, paying particular attention to the bedroom. Planned a simple yet stunning meal, so that I wouldn't be in the kitchen all day, but it would look like I was. Made a trip to the local pharmacy to buy condoms. And lube. And a brown bag. (just kidding about the brown bag.)

I was set. He came early (I mean, he arrived early). We had dinner. After dinner, we decided to watch a movie. Well, as you can probably guess, we didn't get past the opening credits. Next thing I knew we were making out. Then I noticed he was unbuttoning his shirt. I started to get nervous. He whispered, "I seem to remember you saying something about waiting until after dinner to take other things off..." I told him he had a good memory.

Well, as I believe this site is rated PG, I won't go into too many intimate details. Suffice it to say I finally got to see a naked guy other than Todd. And we had some fun - but not the kind of fun you probably expect we had, and definitely not the kind of fun I expected to have.

Was I disappointed? Well...sort of. But I was also sort of relieved. However, I did enjoy some adulation of my body, which prompted my head to swell. I bet you didn't know that I have a "small waist" and "a toned body." Heck, I didn't know it either, at least before last night.

Anyway, I think a repeat performance is probably in order. Only this time, I think I'd like to use some of the paraphernalia I bought. I'd hate to see it go to waste.

I Hate This Part

I can't take it any longer
Thought that we were stronger
All we do is linger
Slipping through our fingers

I don't want to try now
All that's left's good-bye
To find a way that I can tell you

I hate this part right here

--Pussycat Dolls

They say that the third time's the charm... I hope that saying proves true. Friday I told Todd that I would not be seeing him any more... not even as a friend. How can I when he doesn't even treat me as a friend? What's the use - especially when he treats his other friends much better than he treats me?

The earth shook on Friday afternoon. I realized it was the result of my heart breaking. Gawd how I hate this part.

I hate this part right here

Code Word: Weather

I was told that if I mentioned the word "weather" in my next post, I'd get a surprise.

Weather! Weather! Weather!

I'm scary

Well, I guess I must be, anyway. A friend of mine is trying to fix me up with a guy, who just happens to be in the wine business (lucky me!). He called tonight, and I answered the phone. "Hello?" No reply, but I did hear sound in the background. "Hello!" Still no reply, but there was still noise in the background. Then all of a sudden the guy hung up.

Wha---?

I know that my neighbors think I'm scary when I put out the garbage while in my pajamas and robe...but I never knew my voice was so scary. Live and learn...live and learn.

Just Like Magic

On the second and fourth Tuesday of the month, I "teach" a tarot class. I use the quotes, because I really organize the class more than teach it...still, it's fun and I love the group of women who show up faithfully each week.

Tonight, I'll be teaching a bit on tarot magic. I started the lesson two weeks ago, and tonight will be a follow up. However, in writing up tonight's outline I found that it felt uninspired... I just grabbed information from other sources and it felt sort of flat.

While I was deciding what to assign for homework, I came up with what I would like to think of as a brilliant idea. Instead of having the women just set up a spell at home using instructions outlined in a book, I am going to have them craft their own spell, then instruct us how to do it at the next class.

I'm so excited! I almost can't wait until the next class to see what everyone comes up with.

Familiar Territory

Tonight, I went out on a date with Todd. Unlike my date on Saturday with G, this date was comfortable and familiar.

We went to one of our old haunts, but seeing as we both have been hit hard in the wallet in this scary new economy, we downsized our order. No alcohol. No filet...just some shared appetizers and cheap salads. Even though our menu selections were different, our conversation and relatationship dance were very much the same.

What's really different is the fact that he now has a new girlfriend. Oh, he might not be calling her that, but she is calling him her boyfriend, so it's really all one and the same when it comes right down to it.

It's very difficult for me to navigate these new waters. What was once appropriate conversation and expectations no longer apply. I find myself almost as unsure with Todd these days as I was on my first date with G. My heart still falls when I am hit with the thought that I may have lost him for good. My heart also quickens with excitement when he compliments the way I look and adds that he couldn't wait to see me.

Our physical relationship has also changed. This change is the most difficult to peg as either "bad" or "good." I no longer feel completely safe with him, and yet...I no longer feel obligated to him, either. This makes the times we connect physically almost as exciting as those first few times we explored each other's bodies. If you asked my pants, they'd tell you that it's almost as if this is a brand new relationship; the excitement is just that frantic and wrought with sexual tension as those first few months. I can't wait to put my hands on him or to feel his hands on me.

Yet...I am not sure how healthy this is for me. I have a few friends that caution me: "Step away from the sexy young man in the goatee" they warn. "His indecision and inability to stick by your side is not good for you."

And so I continue to be confused by this...by a relationship that hasn't really ended. By the fire in my pants every time I see him. By the days that go by without a call or a contact. By the fact that we still love each other, even though our love has morphed into something different and almost unrecognizable.

Are my friends right? They probably are - after all, I don't allow stupid people to be my friends. So perhaps that makes me the stupid one, still wading in familiar territory even though there are treacherous landmines around us. I am not willing to turn back just yet...so I'll keep moving forward one unbalanced step at a time, and hope to God I don't trigger an explosion.

A kiss is still a kiss...

Okay, my dear faithful readers, here's one for Ripley's Believe It or Not: I have not kissed a guy, other than my ex-boyfriend (with whom I "enjoyed" a ten+year long relationship) in about 9 years. (Yes, I did kiss someone else when we were on a Ross and Rachel break back in 2000.) So, imagine my great surprise when my Saturday night date not only kissed me once...but kissed me again and again and again.

Now, I know I sound like a school girl, but it really is strange kissing someone new. (Strange good, but strange nonetheless.) The thing about being in a long term relationship is you know how to "be" with the other person. You know what works...what the other person likes, and that person knows what you like. So, being with someone new is, well, a bit daunting to say the least. "Am I doing it right?" "Should I touch him more?" "Does he like it when I stick my tongue down his windpipe?" These are just a few of the questions that ran through my head on Saturday night.

So while I had a great time on the date (a Widow Maker, a visit to the local car show, and then a movie at his house), the thing that stands out are those kisses. He kissed so differently than my ex-boyfriend; not different bad, just... differently. It felt so new and exciting and full of promise...I felt like a teenager again.

Of course, at forty-something or other. feeling like a teenager isn't necessarily a good thing. But, it's not entirely a bad thing, either. In the "cons" column, there's that darn teenage insecurity, the hesitancy, and a lack of confidence. However, in the "pros" column, there's that teenage excitement - that heart-quickening, pants-on-fire, newness of it all.

After one date, I could not say at all where this will go, if anywhere. The guy is ten years younger than me, and is one of those outdoor types that seem to be the majority here in Reno. Still...there's a promise of a call and that's enough for now.

Earth Girls Are Easy

All I can say is, man, that was some date! Gee golly willickers, grandma...you never told me a first date could be that good. Maybe I need to go on more first dates?


**More to come when I have recovered...

It's A Date!

Wow. I can't believe it. I just got asked out on an honest-to-goodness real live date. Now, I only hope he turns out to be a real live guy...!

But seriously folks...I can see myself falling in love already. Why? Because he's taking me out for a Widow Maker at Claim Jumper. There is no faster way to my heart than a Widow Maker... except for maybe a glass of wine.

There's only one problem: He asked me out tonight for tomorrow night. Now the authors of "The Rules" are yelling at me, saying things like "PJammy, don't you know you're supposed to pretend you're busy on Saturday night?" and "PJammy, you are acting much too available...he should have asked you out three days in advance!"

To them I say "Holy crap, you Virgin Mothers! Haven't you ever had a Widow Maker before? I can't say 'no' to a Widow Maker! You guys are frickin' crazy!"

They won't listen to me, though. They keep yapping and yapping, chiding me for being so easy. I tell you, if they think eating a Widow Maker makes me easy, they haven't seen nothing yet!

Eight Steps to Reaching One's Dreams

Someone blogged about eight steps they took to reach their dreams. In honor of their very boring, I mean, interesting post, here are mine:

1) Drink two bottles of wine, then pass out on the couch. Dream about what I really want. Oh yes, that would be sobriety.

2) Wake up. Go to AA. Grab on to some sobriety before it walks out the door.

3) Once sober, go back home and think about what I really, really want.

4) Write it down so I won't forget it: I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna really really really wanna zigazig ha.

5) Hire an interpreter so I can figure out what it is I just wrote down.

6) Decide that what I really really want is to be a Spice Girl.

7) Decide on a name: Scary Spice is already taken, so I register "Scarier Spice" and sign up for dance lessons.

8) Buy real cool outfits that show off my cellulite, and start singing on street corners, waiting to be discovered.

I was Mooned!

A friend of mine and I try to meet at least once a week for a walk around the Sparks Marina. (Well, we actually take two laps around, but you know, that's not important to anyone or anything, other than my thighs.) We decided to meet on a Friday this week, so that we could hit Happy Hour after our walk.

While we were sipping our three dollar glasses of wine at The Anchor, we noticed a guy setting up a table and stuff near the water. We were curious. Was he getting ready to have some sort of a party? Was he selling something?

Each time he dropped off a new load of stuff, our interest was increased. After noticing what looked to be a beach ball and a bunch of maps, we chugged down the rest of our wine and left The Anchor to see what in the world was going on.

"Okay, I'm curious," I said. "You piqued my interest!"

The man was kind of cute, in a goofy sort of way, so of course I immediately looked at his ring finger. Damn. Married. Oh well. I stopped being disappointed long enough to listen to him...he told us that he was an astronomer and was doing some quickie astronomy lessons in the park.

He asked us if we wanted to see the moon, and I said "Yes!" He said "Okay, little girl, look into my telescope" and then he unzipped his pants. No he didn't...I was just checking to see if you were still reading. But, he did lead me over to his telescope and there I saw it...the moon! It was so cool to see the craters and other moony things while the sun was still out.

After we all looked at his telescope (because by then a small crowd had gathered), he gave us a short lesson and sent us on our way. He did tell us that in 25 more minutes, he would be showing off Venus. I was tempted to stay, but decided that after a glass of wine I could look at my very own Venus at home, compliments of a bendy body and a hand-held mirror.

That's Just What You Are

In our endeavor we are never seeing eye to eye
No guts to sever so forever may we wave goodbye
And you're always telling me that it's my turn to move
When I wonder what could make the needle jump the groove
I won't fall for the oldest trick in the book
So don't sit there and think you're off of the hook
By saying there is no use changing 'cause

That's just what you are
That's just what you are

Almost from the moment I agreed to exclusivity with Todd, I was told again and again and again why I couldn't be "the one." It was always up to me to make a move - a move to change something that he wasn't happy with. He wanted sex - he got it. He wanted certain types of sex. He got it. He wanted to marry me...I finally said yes. He wouldn't marry me until I lived with him for "a while." I moved in. And yet...nothing ever changed. It was always my move. Yet, the moves never got me closer to him than I was on the day I agreed to exclusivity.

Acting steady always ready to defend your fears
What's the matter with the truth, did I offend your ears
By suggesting that a change might be a thing to try
Like it would kill you just to try and be a nicer guy
It's not like you would lose some critical piece
If somehow you moved point a to point b
Maintaining there is no point changing 'cause

That's just what you are
That's just what you are

I listened to and accepted Todd's fears and his struggle with living in a neuro-typical world while saddled with Asperger's. I defended his actions to friends, family and even myself. And when I would suggest changes he could make to incorporate me more into his life, he would just end up pushing me further away.

Now I could talk to you till I'm blue in the face
But we still would arrive at the very same place
With you running around and me out of the race

We have talked and talked and talked and talked, and it doesn't get us anywhere. We even tried counseling - and it didn't work. I suspected that he wanted the counselor to tell him to break up with me, and when that didn't happen, he became frustrated and we stopped going. So, there were were, back in the same place. He pushed me further away by dating other people and continuing to exclude me from his social circle, yet got on my case for not being a better life partner.

It's difficult to be someone's life partner when they're excluding you from their life. I see now I shouldn't have been surprised that I couldn't make that happen. Yet at the time, I ran that race as if my life depended on it, not realizing I wasn't even in the race, and was instead running on a treadmill and not getting anywhere.

So maybe you're right, nobody can take
Something older than time and hope you could make
It better, that would be a mistake
So take it just so far

'cause that's just what you are
That's just what you are
That's just what you are

Now he says that there is no way to fix our relationship - too much damage has been done. For years, I took the blame for the damage. After all, if I had been a better girlfriend, more nurturing, more sexual, more...fill in the blank, we wouldn't be here. Or at least that's what I was led to believe. Now I realize that it wasn't me at all, but the boundaries he put up that caused the most damage.

Acting steady always ready to defend your fears
What's the matter with the truth, did I offend your ears
You're like a sleepwalking man, it's a danger to wake you
Even when it is apparent where your actions will take you

That's just what you are
And that's just what you are
That's just what you are
That's just what you are

--Lyrics by Aimee Mann

I want...

Wine. Every cell in my body is screaming for a glass of wine. Oh I know, I should just have one, but see, I have a skills test tomorrow for a potential position with the local university. And, well, every once in a while wine will trigger a migraine. So, as much as I want a glass, I know that tonight is probably not the night to do it.

I have tried to unwind from a stressful weekend in other ways. Long hot bath. Pedicure. Blah, blah, blah. Nice, sure, but just not the same as curling up on the couch with a glass of wine while my body starts to relax slowly but surely as the alcohol begins its healing journey through my veins.

I guess my next attempt at relaxation will be a mug of chamomile tea. It works just as well - but it's just simply not as much fun to drink.

TMI

One of my favorite bosses of all time organized a reunion luncheon for those of us who had been laid off of the now defunct company we had once all been a part of. That luncheon was today. I was hesitant about going, as I have now been laid off again and did not feel as if I had a lot of "happy chat" in me. But, a woman I worked closely with at the organization insisted I go, and sweetened the pot by treating. How could I resist?

After we were all assembled, my boss asked us all to go around the table and brief everyone as to what we'd been up to since our company disbanded. Thankfully, I wasn't the only loser, I mean, laid off person there. Several hadn't found work since the company went up in smoke, and others were like me: had found new jobs and gotten laid off again.

One guy, Bob, said that he still hadn't found work, so he was spending a lot of time with Ellen DeGeneres and the cast of Friends. That got a laugh. When it was my turn, I said "I'm gainfully unemployed, so I spend my days crying, drinking, and marinating in my pajamas." Bob said "You should try spending some time with my Friends; they might not convince you to put on pajamas, but they might help with the crying."

Thanks, Bob, for the advice. Now where's the remote?

Suddenly Last Summer

I watched the movie "Suddenly Last Summer" recently via the streaming video feature on Netflix. I love this feature! Kind of makes me wish I had a TiVo, so I could just stream the videos on to my TV. But I digress...back to the movie.

If you haven't seen the movie or the play, the basic theme is that a guy named Sebastian takes his beautiful cousin (played by Elizabeth Taylor) on a trip. He uses her as bait to reel in the pretty boys, then he does whatever it is he does to them (in the movie, it's never quite clear, but it is obvious that he is gay and makes moves on the young men after his cousin brings them to him). He used to use his mother for this task, but she apparently got too old to attract the "tasty" men (the use of the word "tasty" and "delicious" is ironic, it turns out). See, after he tries his little deviant tricks on some island boys, he is repayed for his trickery by being attacked and eaten by the boys (and not the good kind of eating, by the way).

The movie (and play) were touted as quite forward thinking for 1958. However, one can't help but wonder if the real theme is that homosexuality is wrong and should be punished by cannibalistic young men. Or, perhaps the theme could be that what one thinks is fun in private is shunned once all the townspeople find out they did the same thing? Or...is the real theme people taste good after baking in the island sun for weeks on end?

I don't know. I'm confused. However, I don't think I'll be making any trips to any third world islands any time soon, with or without my cousin Sebastian.

Christmas Special

Today, I received an email from "Santa's Slave" asking me if I wanted to get laid on Christmas. No, I really don't, but thanks for the offer. I find that at this time of year, it takes too much effort to go through all the trouble of being a top. I mean, gathering the toys, making the time, let alone thinking of creative ways to use lumps of coal is enough to make my head swim.

Instead what I really want is to see Joel McHale at GSR. And...I think I might be able to swing it. Todd is going to give me half the cost of the ticket, and I am fairly certain I can come up with the other half, as I just received a rebate in the mail reimbursing me for a club membership fee that was done away with.

So, I must apologize to Santa's Slave, for instead of filling up her "stocking" with lumps of coal, I must spend my time with Joel McHale. But, if Santa's Slave really needs it, I'm sure there's a willing reindeer out there somewhere.

Druish

Tonight before class began, one of the owners of the store said she had a funny story about a couple who came in earlier. When the girls asked if they could help the couple find anything, the man said "Yes, we are looking for books on Wick."

"Wick? Are you sure?"

"Yes," replied the man. "Wick."

"Perhaps you mean Wicca? Or maybe witch?"

"No...Wick. My wife, she's Druish and wants a book on Wick."

"That's funny," muttered another customer standing by. "She doesn't look Druish."

We had a good laugh at the couples' expense and decided that maybe it was time to design a Druish tradition. I'm sure it would involve lots of magical latkes and eight days of candle magic in December. As long as I could still wear a Yarmulke in a skyclad ritual, I suppose I'd be happy.

Inertia

After sleeping until 9 a.m. four days in a row, and staying in my pajamas until late afternoon, it's official: I'm depressed. I have no energy. I feel like a zombie and I don't want to do anything. Not even drink. And when I can't even muster enough energy to open a bottle of wine, I know I'm in trouble.

The problem is, I'm not sure what to do about it. When I lived with Todd, I couldn't afford to be depressed or experience massive amounts of time spent in Inertia Land. No matter what happened while I was living there, I got up every day at a respectable time, let the dogs out, made some coffee, and got myself moving. Most days, I went for a walk in the morning. This involved getting dressed...something that seems foreign to me now. The other day when it snowed? I went outside - twice - and shoveled in my pajamas and fleece robe cover. The only reason I didn't wear my slippers was because I didn't want them to get wet.

Today is a better day than yesterday. I got up earlier than usual (okay, it was because Schmutzy threw up a pile of slimy tinsel on the side of the bed, but I still got up). After cleaning it all up, I took a bath and got dressed. Okay, so I'm wearing sweats (one level up from jammies), but I am dressed. And clean. That's progress, right?

What isn't progress is the fact that my resume remains unwritten. I have these wonderful books full of expert guidance, and here I sit surrounded by them with absolutely no desire to actually open them.

How does one shake a bad case of inertia? It obviously takes more than a bath and donning a pair of sweats...although the bath is probably a step in the right direction.

Hi, My Name is PJammy

My friend Carmen told me that she believes any one who drinks alone at home is an alcoholic. If that's the case, then I'm definitely an alcoholic. Cheers to me.

Last Wednesday, I was laid off. One of the first things I did (after crying) was to call my parents to inform them of my bad news. Before we said good-bye, my mom and my dad both encouraged me to run a bath and drink a glass (or two) of wine to settle down. Does this make them enablers or just wise? I'm not sure what Carmen would say to that; I chose to believe they were wise, and so I followed their advice.

After opening up a bottle of wine and running a bath, I do admit that I felt a little calmer. Carmen might say numb, but you know, she's not writing this, is she?

One week and two bottles of wine later, I am in a slightly better head space. I realize that the job itself sucked the big red one. And while of course I hate that I'm without a job now, when the economy is in such bad shape, the constant heartburn I had has gone away. So has the feeling of dread and the fear of making a fatal mistake.

The atmosphere at QuadNet was not a good one; in fact, my faux boyfriend kept telling me the atmosphere was toxic and I should get out as soon as possible. But, the steady paycheck and solid benefits kept me there. Or rather, my fear of being without kept me there. When I think of it now, I had so much fear in me (fear of being without a job, fear of making a mistake, fear of not being liked, fear of not fitting in) that I am surprised that it took a layoff for me to hit the bottle. I probably should have been imbibing all along; it might have made the ride easier.

During the last two days, I received calls from friends wishing me well, validating my worth, and sending their love. After two such calls just today, I find myself drinking water and feeling better about my future. The bottle of wine I opened last night remains untouched. The wine did it's job; now it's time for me to do mine.

I think it's time to cork the bottle and get on to the next step...whatever that might be.

Masks

As class was winding down tonight, my instructor told us that the store would be hosting a Yule Ball this year. The ball will be a fancy affair...very dressy, and everyone must wear a mask. It's a masquerade ball! The kind depicted in movies. I found myself getting excited.

And then it hit me that I wanted a date for this event.

A date. A live actual date. Yikes. I haven't had a date in, oh....well, too long. (Or is it not long enough? I can never keep it straight.)

I immediately knew who I wanted as my date, too. The only problem? I've only seen this guy twice; once he waited on me when I was buying something at the booth he was manning at PPD. The other time in passing at the psychic fair.

In other words, I don't know him.

Okay, so this guy is obviously not a viable candidate, as I didn't write down his license plate number or get his name so I can stalk him like I do most guys. (Kidding. Kidding!)

But seriously, back to the ball. I must go, and I must have a date. And come on...seriously, who wouldn't want to go? I mean, there are masks!

Can she do it? Can she have a date before Yule? Only my hairdresser in the sky knows for sure.

Trading Spaces

When I was living in my own home in California, I used to dream of places. And not just the place, but me living in the place. Often, I dreamt of the same place. One place seemed to be in Portland, Oregon. It was a raised home - by that, I mean the home was on top of the garage. The home front had huge windows, and the home also had a tree which grew inside the house.

The dreams were fairly boring...nothing really ever happened in the dreams, or at least nothing that I remembered come morning. The only part of the dream that stood out was the place itself...the details of the home, how I felt in the home, and an overwhelming desire to go back to sleep so I could go back to the home.

Of all the places I dreamt of, I would say that the home in Oregon was one of my favorites. When I moved to Reno, though, the dreams stopped. For a while.

When it became clear that Todd and I were not going to be married, I started dreaming of places again. I often dreamt about the place in Oregon, but then sometimes I would dream of other places. Each place felt nice...the decor was usually welcoming, the homes bright and spacious.

It wasn't until I moved into my new place that the dreams stopped...well, that is, until a couple of months ago.

Oddly, the place I dream about now is really kind of dilapidated. It has some nice rooms, but it has an odd-shaped basement, and one must go down some crooked stairs and walk through an angular hallway to get to it. The basement is both enchanting and off-putting. The enchantment comes from the fact that it seems to be a fairly secret room, and could be made into anything I wanted it to become. The off-putting part comes from the fact that it is difficult to get to, and in quite a state of disrepair.

I do not understand why I'm having these dreams again. I know that I started having the dreams in California about the time I was contemplating leaving. And then the dreams started up again when it became clear that it was time to move out of Todd's home. Now, though, I'm not sure why I'm having them.

Even if I wanted to move (and honestly, I do think about it sometimes), I could not afford to do so now. I have a home, and as we all know, homes are not selling these days. I feel stuck in Reno...and maybe that's why I'm having the dreams. I'm stuck, and the only way I can get away is to dream myself away.

If that's the case, though, why in the world am I dreaming of a dilapidated home? I would much rather dream of a two-story home in Oregon, with walls of windows and a tree that grows inside the house. I don't care if it rains...I'd take rain over a broken-down home any day.

Spanking Good Time

"Come on, spank me! You know you want to!" This was said to me by a very young man at the 20 500 East Bar last night. The guy had obviously had a lot to drink...but then again, so did my friends and I. So what did I do? I spanked him.

He then proffered his buttocks to every woman at the table, but was denied by the rest. So, he came back to me, and I obliged him once, twice, three times again. Before I knew it, his friend came over and begged for a spanking. For some reason, it was different with this guy...and so I did not. It turned out my instincts were correct; the guy was married, and his wife was no where to be seen. He told one of the women at the table that it was okay...his wife was into it and wouldn't mind. Despite his best efforts to sway at least one of us to give him a spanking, we all denied him service and he went on his merry way.

Shortly after Married Guy With A Yen For A Spanking trotted back to his loud, drunk friends, the real entertainment began. The DJ was given his leave, and in his place was Chris, a one-man band. He started off with some disco, and we were soon all on the floor.

While we were grooving, the young man who had received a spanking, came up to me and said "This is for you!" He danced in front of me, and then he did the splits. Within seconds, he was back on his feet, beer still in his hand, and he danced away with a great big smile on his face.

Not to be outdone, the Married Guy With A Yen For Spanking danced over to the floor. He got another friend to join him, and they started a line dance. He shimmied, he shook, and a line of people joined up right behind him. When dared to do the splits, he did...he split off the dance floor and his merry band of drunkards joined him back at the table.

For the rest of the evening, we danced to the one-man band's music. Once in a while, one of the drunken young men would join us and beg for a spanking. When told a spanking would be theirs if they could replicate the splits move of their friend, they would sheepishly leave the dance floor. When we left, they were still there...drinking beer, making jokes, and toasting their friend, the spankee.

Betrayed

Tonight's plan was to stop by Todd's house to pick up a video, and then head home. When I pulled up in front of the house, I knew instantly something was wrong. The window of my old office had something in the window...I knew someone had been in it, but wasn't prepared for what was going to hit me when I walked through the door.

Todd greeted me at the door, and he said "I have a note here for you." I said "What does the note say? That you love me?" He said "Well, it does say that, but it's mostly an apology."

An apology? For what?

It turns out that he let Danielle have free reign in the space that used to be my office. She disconnected the VCR, unhooked the TV, and in other words, wreaked havoc in the space that was once mine.

Todd PROMISED me he would let me know before he ever let Danielle in there. He said if worse came to worse (scheduling wise) he would at least give me a week's notice, so I could remove whatever I didn't want a stranger to rifle through.

He did not.

Instead, some woman I don't even know went through EVERYTHING that was mine that was still left at the house. And, she wasn't even careful with any of it. My stuff is piled all over the room...books thrown on the bed, heaven knows what stuffed into garbage bags, and most of my furniture gone.

Words can't even begin to describe the amount of anger I feel. Anger that my stuff was just thrown around, as if it didn't matter. Anger that Todd didn't follow through on his promise. Anger at Danielle for being so careless with my things.

When I expressed my surprise and anger, Todd said "Well, it's been almost a year." And in fairness, it has. However, the times I have expressed wanting to come over to pack things up, he has either said he has had plans, or didn't want me there that particular weekend, or had seduced me away from packing to spend time with him instead.

Even in the last couple of weeks, I've expressed an interest in packing up. However, he has things going on, and didn't really want me there. So, this sudden desire to expunge me from his home has come as quite a surprise.

In my life, Todd was the one person I felt as if I could trust to stick to his word. Now that he hasn't, I feel as I can't trust anyone. I'm lost and angry and...and I guess a little depressed.

I cried all the way home, and cried some more at home. I hate that Danielle went through my things. I hated seeing everything piled and tossed around so carelessly. But most of all, I am most disappointed in Todd and his carelessness with his promise to me.

This will take a long time to recover from.

Steamed

I have a "friend" whom I meet periodically for a "latte." She has a latte addiction, and so she always assumes that when I meet her, I'll have one, too. I usually opt for herbal tea instead, because Dr. Atkins wouldn't approve of the latte.

She contacted me earlier this week to meet for a latte at Borders. I agreed to meet her there at 2 p.m. on Sunday. However, the plumber didn't leave until until just after two, so while he was playing around with my swamp cooler, I busied myself looking for her phone number. I found it and called; the number was disconnected.

What to do? I was pretty sure she gave me her cell number once upon a time, but I couldn't find it anywhere. I crossed my fingers and hoped I'd find her still at Borders by the time I got there.

When I arrived, I hurried to the cafe, just in case she was still there sipping her latte. No luck. I took a look around the store, starting in metaphysical (her usual hangout) and worked my way to sci-fi (her next favorite place to look). I didn't see her.

I found myself actually breathing a sigh of relief that I couldn't find her. Oh I knew she'd be mad at me for not being on time, but on the other hand she's one of those "friends" who isn't really. I am not sure why I feel so obligated to her, but it probably has something to do with my sense of loyalty. She has never done anything egregious; she just isn't the best friend a girl could have.

I ran some errands and emailed her when I got home. Sure enough, the reply was short and not-so-sweet. I could tell she was furious, and actually seemed to accuse me of not looking hard enough for her.

I feel slightly awful...but on the other hand, again slightly relieved. I figure it'll be another month or so before she wants to meet for a latte...if ever. Could this be over for good? One can only hope.

Hot and Sticky, Part 2

I waited and waited and waited and the plumber never did show up yesterday to fix my swamp cooler. So, me and the cats got naked in our little sweat lodge. We sat around cross-legged as we passed the peace pipe and tried not to curse the plumber for forgetting us.

This morning I called again, and the guy was apologetic. He sent someone over right away. Apparently he wasn't too apologetic, because he still charged me full price. Still, it was nice to feel the cold air coming out of the cooler.

As I started getting ready to go meet a friend, I heard a "kerplunk" sound come from the direction of the cooler. All of a sudden, the pump was noisy and erratic. I went outside to have a look see. Water was still coming through, and the pump seemed to be working, so I went on my merry way.

As I was putting on the finishing touches in the bathroom, I started to feel hot. And sweaty. And not in a good way. I went into the office to check the swamp cooler. Uh oh. No more cool air. Just warm outside air.

I called the plumbing company, and got my friend on the phone again. He said he'd send someone right over. And right over it was...someone was at my house within 15 minutes. He checked the swamp cooler, and for some unexplained reason, he took my garden hose and started "washing" the unit. Water came spraying into my office, and even though I've cleaned up, I still am finding watery dirt specks on the furniture.

A few minutes later, he told me it was fixed. Turns out the spigot that turns on the water to the pump had been turned off. (And no, I didn't do it!)

Tonight me and the cats are almost too cool, but believe me, we're not complaining. It's so much easier to get warm than it is cool. Of course, now that the temperature is more comfortable, the cats have forgotten the peace pipe ritual and are back to chasing each other around the house, and sparring face-to-face. Don't get me wrong; I love the cool. But I sure do miss the quiet!

Hot and Sticky

t's 95 degrees outside, and so of course my swamp cooler picked today to stop working. Well, wait...I'm lying. It works...the motor comes on, the fan blows...but the pump isn't working. So instead of nice, cool air flowing into the house, hot, dry Nevada air blasted through the house with glee.

I called the plumber, and he actually remembered me. He asked if I could wait until Monday. As I choked on my tongue, he said "Well, wait...it is pretty hot outside. We'll send someone over today." He took down my address and phone number, then said "Hang in there; we have a couple of people ahead of you."

That was four hours ago. I have not yet received a call, and the house is an oven (just call me Biscuit, butter me and eat me!). The cats are panting, and much too hot to bug one another. Big Chief does yell at me occasionally, though, asking me where that nice, cool air went to.

An hour ago, the regularly scheduled afternoon breeze started up, so I opened all the windows. However, unlike many afternoons, this time the breeze decided it was too tired to flow for long, and died down.

So here I am, hot, sticky and shiny, waiting for the phone to ring with the good news that the plumber is on the way. I'm glued to my chair, but not because I'm entertained. Because my pants are wet with sweat.

Aren't I attractive?

I could have...

Today I went walking with a friend. We normally walk at Rancho San Rafael, but decided to try Idylwild Park for a change of pace.

As I was driving to meet her, I thought again about how I haven't bumped into my old boss from Acme Consulting Company. And after I had that thought, another thought pushed itself to the surface: "Piepa, you've been thinking about this on and off for a week...you are about to bump into her. Somewhere. Some place. Get ready."

The next thing I knew, a great song came on the radio and I completely forgot to get ready to bump into her.

I parked, and soon after my friend pulled up. I wanted to go eastward, but she felt west was better, so off we went. About a half mile into the walk, I saw two women approaching us, and one of them looked really familiar.

Oh no. It couldn't be...could it? But it was. Thankfully, the path was really narrow, so I just continued my conversation with my friend as I moved to the right to get behind her so the ladies could pass on the left. I didn't look...just kept walking and talking.

I could feel her eyes on me, but she didn't say anything and in seconds we were out of eye sight of one another. When there was a lapse in the conversation about 10 minutes later, I told my friend about my feeling, and how I was pretty sure that was my old boss I passed. I said I didn't want to look too closely, but was pretty sure it was her.

We walked and walked and finally came to a turning around point. We headed east this time, and kept talking. Soon, though, I saw two ladies approaching us again, and I thought "Oh gawd...they turned around too..." This time the path was wider, so even though I kept my eyes on my friend during our conversation, I didn't have to move over.

My friend said "She was staring at you! It must have been her." I said "Ye gads...she is one person I had hoped never to bump into."

I could have said "Hi." I could have at least acknowledged that I knew her in a past life. But I didn't.

Strangely, I don't even feel badly about it...I just feel thankful that when it did happen, I was with a friend.

Ass Backwards

You know you're having a bad day when you go to the ladies room and discover that your underwear is on inside out...and has been all day long.

My Favorite Time of Year

It's August 1st, and tonight is the official pre-start of my favorite event in Reno: Hot August Nights. For many it's Artown, which goes on during the whole month of July. Now, I want to like Artown, I really do. I like to think of myself as an artsy person. But this year, just as last, I have plans to take full advantage of Artown, and I end up not having gone to one event.

That won't be true of Hot August Nights.

I love old cars. I suppose I get that from my dad, who was a mechanic. But just not a mechanic...he could see a car and know whether or not it was a 48 or 49 model. He knew the nuances and changes in cars through each incarnation. Probably not any more; most cars these days look the same, which I HATE. I despise how modern cars are so uniform in look and color and lack originality.

Tonight, though, I'll drive my rather ordinary looking car with vanity plates down to The Summit for the Show and Shine. I can't wait! I can't explain why, but I love the old cars. I have since I was a teen, and even though I don't know a Model T from a Cadillac, I am pulled to these events every year.

So, if you're in Reno and see a lone woman walking around admiring the cars with a look of lust on her face, that's me. Feel free to say hi, because you won't see me at an event again until next August!

A Night of Rest?

I was so looking forward to last night. It was my first night "in" in quite awhile. I had all kinds of plans...watch a few episodes of Big Love (from Netflix). Make a nice dinner. Catch up on some reading. Play with my new tarot cards. But of course, none of that came to fruition.

For one, I'm still getting used to my new hours. At my previous place of employment, I had flexible hours. However, at my new job it's strictly 8-5. So, after work I found myself with a "must do" errand, and by the time I found what I was looking for, and got home, it was after 6 p.m.

That nice dinner? Oh, I still made it...but it took so long to make that I actually had dinner while I was making it. So, after the dish was done baking, I slapped some aluminum foil on it and stuck it in the refrigerator for...tonight? No time. Tomorrow? Won't be home. Breakfast on Saturday? Perhaps.

When dinner was finished cooking, I sat down to watch Big Love. But wait...I couldn't relax. There was too much cat hair and too many cat toys around for it to be relaxing. So, I cleared all the toys off the floor, grabbed the vacuum and went at it.

Thirty minutes later, I thought I could finally relax. But then I remembered the reason for my errand: buying an answering machine so my phone wouldn't ring and ring and ring and ring when I wasn't able to answer it. So, I sat down and set the thing up. Thirty minutes later I thought it might be time to finally relax...

Of course I was wrong. One of the cats threw up, so I had to get off the couch to clean that up. By then, it was 9 p.m. and I was exhausted. I made sure the cats had food, water, and then I went off to bed.

I had hoped I would pass out...unfortunately, I got up three separate times last night. But that's another story for another time...

Guess I'll have to wait until next Wednesday to have another night of relaxation. Maybe next then I'll really be able to rest.

I Must Be Evil

About two weeks ago, I met a bunch of local bloggers from the singles site I belong to. I had a great time with everyone who showed up. However, I will admit that there were two guys to whom I found myself slightly attracted to. One was clearly in like with someone else at the event, and the other guy put me into the friend category.

Well, today I found out that the bloom is already off the new romance and this guy is back on the market. The minute I heard, I felt something move in my pants. Huh? What are my nether regions thinking? After all, this guy was going out with a kind of friend of mine.

Okay, so we're not close. And we only met each other once. But we have talked in the chat room and we do comment on each other's blogs, so it seems like we're friends. However, for all intents and purposes and of course, we are friends.

But are we the kind of friends who must honor the Girlfriend Law? Would it be okay for me to get involved with this guy? Or only my pants? Or neither?

I have no idea what the honorable thing to do is. I only know that my pants are kind of happy right now.

Roses and Wine

On Friday night, I received a dozen red roses. I know what you're thinking: "Piepa has someone on the hook." Well...I don't. But, since I'm an equal opportunity receiver, I'll take flowers from just about anyone who's willing to give them to me.

Unfortunately for me, my cats love roses so I had to bring them to work. And, once they were on my desk I had to field a bevy of questions ("Who are they from?") and also smile politely whenever someone said "Oh, you must have been a good girl this weekend." News flash: I'm always a good girl except when out on a date. Or driving a car.

I digress...

Flowers on my desk always cheer me up. Always. So much so that some weeks I'll forgo a grocery item or two so I can buy flowers instead. This week started out rather brutally, as I'm still in training and on Monday I had trouble "getting it" as they say. I hung in there as long as possible, and even though the flowers helped to take the edge off, I knew I needed wine that night to really relax me.

The good news: I was supposed to meet a bunch of my ex co-workers for free drinks at GSR. As soon as the whistle blew at 5 p.m., I was out like a light and headed for GSR. I kept thinking about how good it would be to sit down with old friends, talk about work, catch up on their lives, and drink free wine.

When I got to the 20 500 East Bar, I took a quick walk around and did not see any of my friends. Figuring I was the first one there, I saddled up to the bar to get my free drink. I think the bartender really hates giving out freebies, because he made me wait. And wait. And wait. I finally got my wine and snagged a table.

And waited some more. And some more. And some more.

Finally, I dialed up the co-workers for whom I had numbers. Lany: no answer. Carmen: no answer. Christine...wait, she wasn't going anyway, so I didn't call. Played my portable Yahtzee game. Still no friends. Had I been stood up?

After I finished my glass of wine, I decided to go home. The brave part of me wanted to go to the cafe and grab a bite. The lost soul part of me wanted to retreat to the safety of my home. The lost soul won, and home I went.

When I got home, I debated about opening up a bottle of wine. I bought an extraordinary wine from Cost Plus, and was saving it for a special occasion. Wasn't being depressed that my friends stood me up special? While I was debating this in my head, my phone rang.

I heard "Hey girlfriend..." and was instantly warmed by Lany's voice. Turns out I had the night wrong; our get-together isn't until next Monday night. Strangely, I felt instantly better knowing I was a bonehead, as it meant that I wasn't stood up. Or forgotten.

After the phone call the only thing I needed was some chamomile tea. I put the bottle of wine away for a special occasion...

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Well Groomed

I received a rather odd compliment from someone recently. He told me I was rather well groomed.

Now, like most girls I would hope to get compliments like "Gee you're hot" or "hubba hubba, I like your legs." And personally, I prefer compliments about my personality and/or how enjoyable I am to be around. So, being told I am well groomed, while obviously a compliment, has left me feeling completely flummoxed.

I suppose I should stop chewing on that and just enjoy it. Instead, I feel as if I must now work harder to become memorable for something other than my washing ritual and mad ironing skillz.

Claim Jumper Friends

If I've said it once, I've said it way too many times: Claim Jumper is probably my most favorite restaurant EVER. The reasons are varied...the service is almost always top notch, the food is plentiful and good, and I just like being there.

That said, my love of Claim Jumper is well known to those that know me and love me. And even those who don't love me. (But I won't focus on them now...) So, my boss, who won't be at work on my last day, took me to lunch today at Claim Jumper. He also invited Lany (my next-door cube neighbor) along.

These are two of my most favorite people at Acme Cardiac Safety Services. Mike was a great teacher, and really showed me the ropes when I first got to Covance. Lany also taught me a lot about how to succeed at my job. I'll be sad to leave them behind.

We had a nice time at Claim Jumper. We talked about work, people at work, next steps, the grief we felt over the lay off, cars, kittens, children, and the Independence Day. At the end of the meal, my boss insisted on buying me a brownie (something I normally don't indulge in, as Dr. Atkins would slap my hand if he knew what I was eating) to go. Frosted brownies are one of my favorite indulgences, so I was touched that he remembered and got me one.

I have two more days left at work: tomorrow and Monday. Today before I left, I packed some of my items up and as I placed them in a box I found myself tearing up. I wish I could have stayed at Acme. The people there were some of the best I'd ever worked with. I will really miss them (and my paycheck).

Hopefully I'll fit in at QuadNet and make new friends and be as highly esteemed as I am at Acme. I know one thing, though: Acme will always have a place in my heart, even after its doors are closed for good.

Sexy Red Shoes

Unlike most girls, I am not a shoe hound. I don't get excited about shoes, I don't spend much money on shoes, and I prefer flats to heels. Every once in awhile, though, I feel the need to get a little sexy with my footwear. Saturday was one of those days.

I have a few outfits which have been begging me to buy them a pair of red heeled sandals. So, feeling a bit restless and getting tired of hearing my outfits complain, I left the house Saturday afternoon to look for a pair. I only had forty minutes, so I went to my one of my favorite stores hoping I would find what I wanted.

I did.

Almost as soon as I walked in, I saw a pair of 3-inch red heeled strappy sandals. There was only one pair available...and they were a half size too small. I tried them on anyway, and they actually fit.

Wait. This was too good to be true. Not believing that they fit, I started walking up and down the aisle in the shoes, thinking that they would begin to hurt. They did not. A couple of women told me the shoes were sexy and that I should buy them. So I did.

I couldn't wait to wear them. On Monday, I pulled out one of my outfits and showed them the new shoes. My outfit was happy. I got ready for work, and on the way out the door I put on my new shoes. The total effect was marvelous.

But after 9 hours of work wearing those shoes, my feet started to cry. What looked like sexy straps to the average eye were actually small leather torture devices. I couldn't wait to take them off.

When I got home, I couldn't get them off fast enough. As soon as the shoes came off, I noticed my feet were bruised and chafed where the straps were. I soaked my feet in water, while Big Chief played on the edge of the tub.

Today my feet are not so sexy looking and still bear the marks of Monday's all-day torture session. It's been said that beauty hurts, and I have to agree.

It's back to Easy Spirits for me...at least until my feet heel and my outfits start whining at me again.

Californication

Has anyone out there seen this TV show yet? I just saw the first six episodes this weekend, thanks to Netflix. All I can say is "Whew...where's the cold shower?"

I rented it simply because, as a fan of the X-Files, I felt an unexplainable need to see David Duchovny play a part other than Mulder. I had no idea what the show was about...so imagine my surprise when I discovered the show seems to be about sex, sex, and more sex. And not just sex, but sex of many different varieties: The brown kind, the dominance kind, the awkward kind, and the regular kind.

I think somewhere in there the show is kind of about relationships and mid-life crisis, but it's hard to tell amidst all the sex and talk about sex and naked bits.

Still, I did enjoy the first six episodes and eagerly await the next six. After all, if you can't have it, watch it!

Morning Coffee

This morning started out pretty much like any other. The first alarm buzzed and I turned it off. The second alarm went off and I turned it off. A half hour later, Big Chief Many Toes decided to scream into my right ear canal, so I stumbled out of bed and headed for the kitchen, where I proceeded to make my morning cup of coffee.

A few short minutes later, I was curled up on the couch drinking my coffee while watching Big Chief run around the living room chasing all things visible and invisible. In-between sips, I rested the cup on my thigh while I petted my poor little asmathic Schmutzy.

At some point, I heard a noisy, slurping sound. "Gee, one of the cats is really enjoying their water" was my first thought. And then I saw Big Chief climbing up my curtains, and of course Schmutzy was right next to me...and then I realized that the slurping sounded awfully close...I turned to my coffee, and saw Purrscilla's little head bobbing up and down into my cup.

I figured there wasn't any use to stopping her now...so I just let her have a caffeine fix in peace. About five minutes later, a normally shy and skittish Purrscilla was running around the living room, teasing Big Chief, jumping on stray toys, and bouncing off walls. As for me, I tossed the coffee and headed for the shower while Purrscilla continued to run off her caffeine buzz in the living room.

A New Kind of Catnip

Every morning, I grab a plastic bag on my way to the litter pans. I then scoop out the unwanted items from the pans and throw them in the plastic bag. After this is done, I tie the bag closed, place the bag on the floor by the side door, with the intention of taking it outside to the garbage can on my way to work.

This morning my routine didn't vary. I cleaned out the litter pans, put the bag on the floor by the side door, and went into the bathroom to wash my hands. I then packed my lunch, got my stuff together, grabbed my keys and headed for the door.

I bent down to pick up the bag...but the bag wasn't there. Wait. I could have SWORN I cleaned out the litter pans...I run to the office. Yep. Litter plans are waste-free. I look in the office to see if I left the bag in there. Nope. Could I have taken it into the bathroom? Nope.

Hmmm...

Then I remember that I heard a strange rustling when I was washing my hands...almost like the sound of a plastic bag being played with by a cat. Or perhaps a kitten. "Big Chief!" No response. I start looking around for the bag (which you would think would be easy, since I have very little furniture). No bag. I look under the bed. One cat, no bag.

I look behind the washer and dryer. No bag. I look in my closet. No bag. I go back out to the front room and look around. Wait. There's a bulge underneath the slipcover of the couch. I move the slipcover and there it is...the bag of crap.

Big Chief was watching me, and as soon as I grabbed it, he thought it was play time again. He ran towards me just as I was lifting myself and the bag up. He jumped, with 12 front toes aimed at the bag. He missed and landed back on the ground.

I took the bag and did what I should have probably done in the first place: took it immediately outside to the garbage bin.

Now that I realize Big Chief thinks a bag full of crap is as much fun to play with as a catnip toy, I'll have to be more mindful of where I put the bag in the morning, lest it end up wedged in my couch again.

Martinis, Old Men and Confessions to the Boss

Much to my delight, GSR is having a special during the month of June at the 20 500 East bar: free drinks, including six different martinis, to ladies on Mon-Thurs nights.

My boss scheduled a ladies night for this past Wednesday. Originally five people RSVP'd, but you know how that goes...one backed out to have sex, another backed out because she couldn't get a babysitter, and then we were left with three (plus boss).

I was the first to arrive, and was surprised to see the bar was almost full. Thanks to local advertising, the word finally got out and the bar was overrun with women. I found a table that would seat all of us, and grabbed it. A waitress came over and took my order.

Next to arrive was my boss, and next my cube neighbor. No one else showed up. My boss ordered appetizers, and we all ordered martinis (me, one more, everyone else their first!).
Martinis seem to have a way of loosening lips. Before I knew it, my boss was telling us a funny drinking story about my cube-mate's boss. I spilled some of my own secrets, and then my boss spilled another one. By the time my boss and I had downed three martinis, the party was underway.

As soon as the free drinks hour ended, the cocktail waitresses literally disappeared. We hung out, as a "band" was setting up. (Said band consisted of one guy and many synthetic instruments.) We decided to see this guy perform, so we stayed.

The guy was actually pretty good. He started out with some swing music, and people got up on the dance floor and danced. By people, I mean senior citizens. After the second dance, a senior citizen approached our table and asked if one of us "ladies" would care to dance. We all said no, but my no was different. I said "Thanks, but I don't know how to swing." Wrong response, because he said he could teach me. Next thing I knew, Grandpa had grabbed my hand and pulled me to the dance floor.

I will admit, he was a good teacher. We danced the length of two songs, then he led me back to my table and grabbed my boss and dragged her to the dance floor. (Gramps was pretty strong.) She did a much better job than I did, but I guess that's why she gets paid the big bucks.

Strangely, the music man decided to transition from swing to Pink Floyd. The dance floor was totally empty...for about two minutes. Then an old couple courageously hit the dance floor and waltzed to Pink Floyd. It was mesmerizing to watch. (Well, keep in mind mesmerization was easy after a few martinis.)

After the Pink Floyd debacle, the performer decided it was time to get us all back on the dance floor. He asked for requests. I shouted "Disco!" while the rest of the crowd shouted "Country!" He pointed at me, laughed and said "Disco?" Then he played the opening bars of Play That Funky Music to tease me, then launched into some old Merle Haggerd song. DAMN HIM. The good news is that for the rest of the night he flirted with me, but I think only because I was the only one in the crowd to actually put money into his tip jar.

After exchanging several winks and teases for disco music, the AV system crapped out. Even a squad of four geeky AV guys (one was replete in full outback regalia... from khaki shorts to floppy hat) could not put it together again. That was our cue to leave.

Even though it was now ten p.m., my boss insisted on treating me to dinner at Fin Fish. Hey, who am I to deny the boss this great pleasure in watching me eat? So off to Fin Fish we went. I ordered the crab "cakes" (actually, it ended up being only one cake; apparently the menu had a typo), and she had tuna tartare. She offered to buy me a glass of wine, and I know this is so unlike me but I declined. I mean, it was now about 10:30, and if I had any hope of getting home in one piece the last thing I needed to do was down another glass of alcohol so close to the time I needed to get in my car and find my way home.

I couldn't believe how easy it was to talk to her...alone. It's usually pretty easy to talk and joke with the boss when everyone else is around, but when it's mano-a-mano it can be a bit intimidating.

When all was said and done, I finally got home around 11:30 p.m. Way too late, because I had a job interview the next day and a skills test to take. But that's a story for another day...

Real Girls Eat Meat

PETA is on the rampage again, this time slamming poor little Jessica Simpson for wearing a T-shirt with the saying "Real Girls Eat Meat" emblazoned on the front. I have to admit, I've never been a big fan of little Jess...that is, until today. Now I say "Rock on, blondie!"

Ya see, real girls do eat meat. I should know. I'm a real girl and yes, I eat meat. Pretty much every day. And you know, none of that sissy ground turkey for me. Nope. Hot dogs (Hebrew National, of course!), hamburgers, steak, and dare I say it, salami are consistently on my daily menus.

So grab a bottle of wine and a chunk of salami...I'll gladly meet you and show you how a real girl eats her meat!

The Pleasure of My Own Bed

I spearhead a group here in Reno made up of magical ladies over "a certain age." Last night we met at Rancho San Rafael park for a picnic and a walk around the labyrinth.

The weather was perfect. We spread out our blankets underneath the trees, placed all our food offerings in the center, and before eating, one of the ladies read to us a passage from the book "Simple Abundance" about Midsummer.

It was an enjoyable evening, but we felt incomplete in a sense as one of our members who had RSVP'd did not show up. We knew she had planned on joining us after her plane arrived, so at first we just thought she was late...then we realized she probably had jet lag and decided against a night out with friends.

We were half right...today I was greeted with an email from Marilen stating that she had come down with an awful cold, so was not able to make our get together last night. Then she said "So, I'm going to take a bath, put on some PJ's and take great pleasure in my own bed."

Ahhh...that sentence really hit home with me. There is nothing I like better than the pleasure of my own bed (and, of course pajamas and a bath!). Women's magazine after women's magazine constantly states the importance of making one's bedroom a haven. And even though my house is under furnished and still needs work, I have made every effort to make my bedroom a place I enjoy being. It's the only room in my house that is fully furnished.

I spent some extra money on a quality bed. I added luxurious sheets and down pillows, and a comforter that's both comfortable and beautiful. I keep the room picked up and clean. It's my haven.

I love the time I spend in my bed. Oh sure, you can insert all your own lurid reasons here as to why I love the pleasure of my own, but the truth is I love it simply because it is my own. It feels safe, it feels comfortable, and it feels welcoming.

It's one pleasure I wouldn't give away for anything in the world.

young@heart

Last week, a friend from work and I went to the Riverside to see young@heart. The movie is a documentary that takes place during a 7-week period in the lives of several of the members of the Young at Heart Chorus in New England.

The movie is both hilarious and touching.

While the chorus has many members, the documentary focused on just a few. I think I would have liked to have gotten to "know" more of the members, but I understand that focusing on only a few would translate into a tighter story.

After the movie, my friend and I went to Ultra Divine Lounge for a drink and some food. Normally we spend time after a movie catching up with one another. Not this time. Nope, this time we could only talk about the movie.

It was one of the most inspiring movies I've seen in ages. I loved watching these very senior senior citizens perform. But not only that, I loved seeing the vibrancy and joy they had in their later years. I also loved the openness in which they embraced songs that were new to them, like "Fix You" by Coldplay and "I want to be sedated" by the Ramones.

I hope that I'm still singing when I'm 83. And I hope that when you plug in your hearing aid, you can hear me. I'm sure I'll sound wonderful.

Too Good for TV

Yesterday, Adam Carolla had Larry Miller on his radio show (again...kind of getting tired of the dude, but whatev). I tuned in when they were in the middle of playing some sort of "pick between the two evils" game. The idea was this: Larry was to take a long road trip, and was to pick a passenger from two offered. Adam would outline these two fake people's personalities, and Larry had to pick one and give his reason why he picked that person over the other.

One of the choices was a guy who thought Face Off was the best movie ever or a guy who proclaimed loudly and proudly that he didn't own a TV. Larry picked the Face Off guy. His reason: at least he knew this guy liked something. He added that he never really trusted people who said they didn't own a TV and/or hadn't watched TV in ages. And this is where Adam Carolla then inserted his own wildly hilarious rant about the people who don't watch TV.

One of the things he said was you can't trust 'em. They're lying. Because, as you begin to peel the layers, you find that the person who says they don't watch TV do watch it. Supposedly occasionally. "Oh, I watch the news, and sometimes PBS. Oh and I like to watch the playoffs..." and, and, and... Before you know it, it turns out that the person actually does watch TV.

As for the person who doesn't own a TV, well probe enough and often times you'll find that person watches stuff online.

I agree with Adam Carolla: I do not trust people who deny they watch TV. They normally have this holier-than-thou attitude to begin with. The noises they make indicate that TV is of the devil. It's a time waster. It promotes violence. It (fill in the blank with the latest scourge to scour the earth). They then eventually turn the conversation back over to themselves. Since there is no TV in their life, they are more productive. Happier. Their minds are not polluted. They are free thinkers and out-of-the-box problem solvers. In other words, they are better than the rest of us who do watch TV.

Good for them.

I, too, was without a TV for approximately 6 years. I was in the Army, and there just wasn't time for TV. Not really. But I had no problem admitting that I missed it. Oh sure, my evenings were filled up easily. GI parties. Uniform pressings. Boot shinings. Letters to my parents (yes, the old fashioned way, using pen on paper). But sure, I missed my TV.

After several years without having a TV, one night I received a knock on my barrack's door. I opened it to find a guy I had only recently met holding a TV. He said "I cannot believe you don't have a TV! Here, take mine. I use my roommate's - his is in color!" He handed me his precious TV, and I don't believe I've been without one since.

I'm sure it is a time waster. But you know, some times I Iike to waste time (another not so popular past time that I am admitting to). After a day of listening to whining co-workers, finding a buttload of bills in my mailbox, and passing by 17 gas stations proudly displaying gas for $4.17 a gallon, I need to veg out. To waste some time.

Only, I don't actually think of it as time wasted. I think of it as time spent with some of my favorite Losties. Or finding out what Allison Dubois is dreaming about now. Or maybe I'm watching a story that was ripped from the headlines, and seeing how these particular detectives solve it. Or laughing at Jim's latest prank on Dwight.

Yes, some may look at it as the scourge of the earth. I look at it as entertainment, ghetto style.

It's Tuesday...Do You Know Where My Bed Is?

I. Need. Sleep.

I haven't slept in three nights straight. As soon as I turn out the light, Big Chief Many Toes thinks it's time to play. He pounces on the bed. He chases his tail. He jumps on my stomach. He meows at nothing, then jumps in the air and falls off the bed. Because the floor is not such a fun place to be, he climbs back up on the bed and jumps on my feet. When he's tired of jumping, he starts combing my hair, because he thinks I'm hiding a nipple in my head.

After awhile, I think "Enough already," so I pick him up, put him outside of the bedroom, and close the door. Good idea in theory. In practice it does not work. Why? Because then he sits outside my bedroom door and cries and cries and cries. I feel sorry for him, and open the door and of course he's like "Yay! I get to jump on the bed some more!"

I'm subsisting on coffee and thirty minute naps. I don't know how much longer I can take it!

It is fun, though, to have a kitten in the house (fun, that is, when he's not climbing up my beautiful curtains or hanging by a claw from my brand new quilt). I love listening to him purr, and watching him check things out. And of course, I really love kissing his little toes...all 24 of them.

I may not be getting any sleep, but life indeed is good.

Big Chief Many Toes

I did it. I got a new kitty.

Yeah, well, those who know me know I probably would not be able to say "no" when I went to go see the kitty. And I forget who said this, but yes, I suspect this was a backyard breeder. The good news is that these people did take good care of the cats and kittens... the vet and vet assistant both commented that the kitten was obviously well taken care of.

But I digress...I met the kitten on Friday afternoon, fell in love with his many toes, got the lady to sign a contract guaranteeing that my money would be refunded if the cat had FIV (she wouldn't agree to signing anything else but that, so I took what I could get). Then kitty and I made haste to the vet's office, where he obtained a clean bill of health and many kisses from strangers. Apparently, I am not the only person in the world who wanted to kiss his little toes.

The vet also stated that he's rare in the fact that he also has bones in his many toes. She said often times polydactyl kittens have an extra pad or an extra claw, but not the attached bones...however my little kitty does.

He is acclimatizing well to his new surroundings. My other two cats are scared of him... about time. They both terrorized my other cats when they came into the household. However, this little kitten is leaving them both alone, yet they are still frightened of him. Sissies.

Now that I have a new cat, I realize I probably won't be getting a dog. I'm a little sad about that...but I still dog sit occasionally, so it's not like my life is dogless.

Why look at the time...I must leave now to go kiss toes. It's my hourly duty!