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"Awwww! The Katester has a date! Whoo-hoo!" hooted my co-worker Mark. He thought my return to dating was going to be very entertaining. Everybody at work did. My mom was practically foaming at the mouth with excitement while my dad watched TV pretending he had no idea what was going on. My sister was worried.. but from a distance.
When did my attempt at a love life become popular? I need to learn how to keep things to myself...
The day of my first date with the dude I met online was hell. Everybody at work wanted to know where we were going, what he was like, what I was going to wear... I hadn't even thought about what I was going to wear. Shit. I guess that is sort of important.
Mark kept teasing me, saying I'd be doing the nasty in no time at all. Kelly kept giving me advice that was supposed to be emotionally nurturing. My sister kept texting me. The nerves in my teeth even hurt. Why had I decided to do this? Oh yeah, peer pressure.
At five o'clock I went home and beautified. There was hair to be washed, blow-dried and curled. Make-up to be applied. Clothes to unbury, dewrinkled in the dryer and tossed aside if they made me look fat. 40 minutes before our date I was dressed and my hair looked fabulous. Too bad I had to go out.
We had decided to meet at an Italian restaurant somewhere between both our cities. I attempted to make my nerves deaf by rocking out to Paramore as loud as my car would allow. Five minutes before I arrived at the place, I had an intense urge to turn around and go back home.
But that's what wussies do. And I am NOT a wussy.
I waited in front of the place, unable to believe I was early for once in my life. My spot gave me a clear shot of the online dude as he walked up. If I could have turned invisible I would have. Wasn't it bad enough this was practically a blind date? Did he really have to bring me roses?
Besides the flowers the date was nice. My stomach was so sucked in I could hardly eat my eggplant parm, and I even passed on getting a beer. Conversation was difficult with lots of awkward pauses, but that's kind of normal, right? He had a nice smile. Seemed sincere. Nice to look at in a shy, boy next door kind of way.
After we had talked and ate and it was time to go he walked me to my car. Nice, right? When we got there he gave me the world's quickest, barely touch, "she-might-have-cooties" hug and ran away. Well, he didn't literally run away but he moved out of there damn fast.
I kept it together. Waited until he left the parking lot, way before me. Then I cried exactly two tears and cranked up the rock.
He must have thought I was fat. Why didn't I lose some weight before I started dating? Or maybe I was too nervous? What if he thought I was ugly or boring? Did I have food in my teeth? Each time the tears would threaten again I would sing along with Hayley Williams. Pretend I didn't care.
This dating shit is emotional.
When I got home I called Markie to whine. I hadn't intended but he said I didn't sound perky. I broke the date down, looked at it from all angles. Mark, bless his big Philly heart was such a sweetie and told me that if this guy didn't want me he was fucking nuts. He made me feel a little better.
Then the online dude texted me. He was worried he'd been too nervous at dinner. He said he hadn't expected me to be so beautiful, which was probably a line. Hell, I don't care if it was a line! A guy was attracted enough to feed me a line!
Whoo-hoo!
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
The End of the EX
I came home to my condo, walked in the living room, and soaked up the space. Kind of like a CSI actress, but one that makes considerably less money. The living room hadn't been this empty since I first moved in almost two years ago. It seemed bigger now. I could almost see the air pass through the newly created vacancies, reclaiming it. So I just stood there and stared at all the dog hair covered carpet I'd forgotten was there for 10 months. Ugh, I would need to vacuum soon.
Gone was the goliath of sectionals that allowed only a foot and a half walk space around it. The 60 inch TV, thick and tall, no longer dominated the entire room. No more scarred coffee table with crap loaded all over it or baseball themed end tables. This living room now contained only an ancient wood entertainment center, empty except for dust, a love seat that had seen better days and indentations in the carpet where real furniture used to exist.
I absorbed all this, walked around the kitchen and to the bedroom. It looked pretty much the same. The right closet door stood open revealing its emptiness. The curtains bellowed out where the one white dresser had been so I moved the old wrought iron bench in front of the window. That bench had been there before. Some things are consistent. I'd had that bench longer than anything else in the condo. I gave it a little pat. Good bench.
I plopped down on the bed, kicked my shoes off and proceeded to get undressed from normal people clothes into my sweat pants. Less than 5 seconds later I was heading out the sliding glass doors to my patio with a cold beer and what would hopefully turn out to be a good book. After all, it was a pleasant enough distraction before the EX moved out.
That's the beginning of my story. My boyfriend of seven years, off and on, moved out. Quickly. He ran away, really. And I was ok with it. Well, as ok as anyone can be after fighting for eight months, gaining 20 pounds and having forgotten what it's like to have sex with an actual person.
I just went on with my life as if nothing had changed, because the only real thing actually changed was the condo had been cleared out. At least he took the tension, too.
Now, I must say that my entire relationship with the EX cannot be looked at badly. He was a great guy who just happened to piss me off to no end when we were romantically involved. We must have broken up at least ten times over the years, but we always got back together. Why? Because it was like going home. No matter how crappy we were to each other, in the end we knew we cared. And we had been young and immature when we met at age nineteen.
But something broke wide apart when we moved in together. I had been working my ass off at 4 different jobs: Cleaning offices on the weekends, teaching dance for kids a few nights a week, dancing for a company, and climbing the corporate ladder into sales at my main job. All of this to pay the bills. I said I needed help. The EX said he wanted us to live together because I could only see him once a week. It took longer for us to move in together than the living arrangement lasted.
And the most ironic part... By the time he moved in I was making more money than I ever thought possible after a sudden promotion. I no longer needed him to move in with me to share bills. In fact, I was paying my rent a couple months in advance just to get rid of some of that cash. Months before when I had been crying about not being able to afford a new mattress the EX was unwilling to pitch in. I was now buying new bedroom furniture and book shelves galore. He paid for the white dresser and made sure he took it with him when he left.
After months of yelling, silent treatments, crying and a lot of beer, our relationship hit the fan and disintegrated into nothing. He moved out. I bought a new red couch and a much classier, streamlined version of his TV. It was over and there would never be another repeat performance. The EX had left the building.
My friends, at least the ones starting to develop at work, were amazed I acted no differently after such a life altering change. Ummm.. People go through this shit all the time and live normally. It wasn't an actual divorce or anything. No custody hearing. The EX was told to fuck off when he asked about visitation for the dog. MY dog. I politely said no. I offered him the cat. He rolled his eyes. So all in all this was a no nonsense, easy break up.
Then why did I have no desire to ever date again?
Gone was the goliath of sectionals that allowed only a foot and a half walk space around it. The 60 inch TV, thick and tall, no longer dominated the entire room. No more scarred coffee table with crap loaded all over it or baseball themed end tables. This living room now contained only an ancient wood entertainment center, empty except for dust, a love seat that had seen better days and indentations in the carpet where real furniture used to exist.
I absorbed all this, walked around the kitchen and to the bedroom. It looked pretty much the same. The right closet door stood open revealing its emptiness. The curtains bellowed out where the one white dresser had been so I moved the old wrought iron bench in front of the window. That bench had been there before. Some things are consistent. I'd had that bench longer than anything else in the condo. I gave it a little pat. Good bench.
I plopped down on the bed, kicked my shoes off and proceeded to get undressed from normal people clothes into my sweat pants. Less than 5 seconds later I was heading out the sliding glass doors to my patio with a cold beer and what would hopefully turn out to be a good book. After all, it was a pleasant enough distraction before the EX moved out.
That's the beginning of my story. My boyfriend of seven years, off and on, moved out. Quickly. He ran away, really. And I was ok with it. Well, as ok as anyone can be after fighting for eight months, gaining 20 pounds and having forgotten what it's like to have sex with an actual person.
I just went on with my life as if nothing had changed, because the only real thing actually changed was the condo had been cleared out. At least he took the tension, too.
Now, I must say that my entire relationship with the EX cannot be looked at badly. He was a great guy who just happened to piss me off to no end when we were romantically involved. We must have broken up at least ten times over the years, but we always got back together. Why? Because it was like going home. No matter how crappy we were to each other, in the end we knew we cared. And we had been young and immature when we met at age nineteen.
But something broke wide apart when we moved in together. I had been working my ass off at 4 different jobs: Cleaning offices on the weekends, teaching dance for kids a few nights a week, dancing for a company, and climbing the corporate ladder into sales at my main job. All of this to pay the bills. I said I needed help. The EX said he wanted us to live together because I could only see him once a week. It took longer for us to move in together than the living arrangement lasted.
And the most ironic part... By the time he moved in I was making more money than I ever thought possible after a sudden promotion. I no longer needed him to move in with me to share bills. In fact, I was paying my rent a couple months in advance just to get rid of some of that cash. Months before when I had been crying about not being able to afford a new mattress the EX was unwilling to pitch in. I was now buying new bedroom furniture and book shelves galore. He paid for the white dresser and made sure he took it with him when he left.
After months of yelling, silent treatments, crying and a lot of beer, our relationship hit the fan and disintegrated into nothing. He moved out. I bought a new red couch and a much classier, streamlined version of his TV. It was over and there would never be another repeat performance. The EX had left the building.
My friends, at least the ones starting to develop at work, were amazed I acted no differently after such a life altering change. Ummm.. People go through this shit all the time and live normally. It wasn't an actual divorce or anything. No custody hearing. The EX was told to fuck off when he asked about visitation for the dog. MY dog. I politely said no. I offered him the cat. He rolled his eyes. So all in all this was a no nonsense, easy break up.
Then why did I have no desire to ever date again?
The Job
Here I am head over heels for a guy for the first time in years. I mean, I am actually crazy about the Principal. He's smart, funny, kind, dorky, sexy, interesting, focused, gentle, giving, great cook, considerate, cute, good looking... I could go on. He breaks my heart a little just being around him.
The job from far, far away contacted the Principal moving forward. They wanted to do the background check and took the job posting off the internet. Translation: The Principal is in the top running. My wonderful, fabulous boyfriend is most probably moving to another state. Half of me wanted to jump up and down because I know how much he wants this opportunity. The other half of me wanted to call in sick to work, sleep wrapped in my biggest quilt until after noon when it would be acceptable to start drinking.
But I went to work and I was excited for him. The cheeky bastard.
I decided to try an experiment later in the day. Tell the Principal I miss him. Weird, I know. Normal couples have no issue saying something so smarmy but its like we're allergic to even private displays of affection. And we've been dating for 7 months. So I texted him that I missed having him and his cat-hater dog around. It had only been a few days since they were over, but I really did miss them.
He responded with a smiley face. Automatically I went back into my "fuck technological communication" mode. Seriously? Smiley face? In the olden days would he have drawn a smiley face in lieu of a letter that traveled hundreds of miles to get to me? Just a smiley face?Grrr.... This will never work in another state.
The next day, however, the Principal asked if he could bring the dog over while he went to class. I got to see them both, hang out for a while. Kiss that wonderful boyfriend who will soon be very inaccessible. I think, maybe, he missed me too. But I'm probably just being used to babysit anxious dog because I'm a sucker. Hmph..
When the Principal returned from his class to reclaim the mutt, we sat out on the patio and chatted. He talked about making the move to small town USA and how at first he was worried, but now thinks he will really like the quiet. I tried not to look terrified.
There was talk of buying a house, moving up in the company (that had not yet given him an offer letter) and then there was mention of how he will be able to make copious amounts of moeny and I will never have to work again. What?!? He amended that with "Unless you want to have a dance studio of your own."
My eyes probably bugged out of my head and this time I was the one waving my arms around trying to get rid of the topic. Could the Principal be telling me in that one little sentence how committed he is emotionally? Is this his equivalent to "I love you"?
Even as my heart began to soar it crashed back down to reality. Was this as good as its going to get? Am I going to have to analyze every conversation I ever have with this man to kind of think I maybe know what he's feeling?
The Principal asked why I was snickering and shaking my head. I shrugged my shoulders.
And told him not to worry about it.
The job from far, far away contacted the Principal moving forward. They wanted to do the background check and took the job posting off the internet. Translation: The Principal is in the top running. My wonderful, fabulous boyfriend is most probably moving to another state. Half of me wanted to jump up and down because I know how much he wants this opportunity. The other half of me wanted to call in sick to work, sleep wrapped in my biggest quilt until after noon when it would be acceptable to start drinking.
But I went to work and I was excited for him. The cheeky bastard.
I decided to try an experiment later in the day. Tell the Principal I miss him. Weird, I know. Normal couples have no issue saying something so smarmy but its like we're allergic to even private displays of affection. And we've been dating for 7 months. So I texted him that I missed having him and his cat-hater dog around. It had only been a few days since they were over, but I really did miss them.
He responded with a smiley face. Automatically I went back into my "fuck technological communication" mode. Seriously? Smiley face? In the olden days would he have drawn a smiley face in lieu of a letter that traveled hundreds of miles to get to me? Just a smiley face?Grrr.... This will never work in another state.
The next day, however, the Principal asked if he could bring the dog over while he went to class. I got to see them both, hang out for a while. Kiss that wonderful boyfriend who will soon be very inaccessible. I think, maybe, he missed me too. But I'm probably just being used to babysit anxious dog because I'm a sucker. Hmph..
When the Principal returned from his class to reclaim the mutt, we sat out on the patio and chatted. He talked about making the move to small town USA and how at first he was worried, but now thinks he will really like the quiet. I tried not to look terrified.
There was talk of buying a house, moving up in the company (that had not yet given him an offer letter) and then there was mention of how he will be able to make copious amounts of moeny and I will never have to work again. What?!? He amended that with "Unless you want to have a dance studio of your own."
My eyes probably bugged out of my head and this time I was the one waving my arms around trying to get rid of the topic. Could the Principal be telling me in that one little sentence how committed he is emotionally? Is this his equivalent to "I love you"?
Even as my heart began to soar it crashed back down to reality. Was this as good as its going to get? Am I going to have to analyze every conversation I ever have with this man to kind of think I maybe know what he's feeling?
The Principal asked why I was snickering and shaking my head. I shrugged my shoulders.
And told him not to worry about it.
The "We" Topic
Saturday night date came around I headed over to his place with lead in my stomach. The dreads were circling through my body and I just wanted to go home, get another crappy romance novel and a six pack. If I chickened out though, he might suspect something was up and I would have to endure another week of worry.... So I drove onward.
After loosening up, and much talk of the dog, I brought up the job. The Principal explained what he would be doing, the company and the town. All of which I had researched extensively while at my lame ass job. I let him talk.
Nervously I raised a hand, as if in class, and asked what "we" were going to do if he moved and took on this new, bigger, complex, un-principal job. I even did the finger quotes on the we for him. The Principal blinked a few times, shrugged and repeated that he'd drive here every weekend to see me. I needed to give him a push. (Where are stairs when you really need them?)
I reminded him of the "emotional committment" conversation. One of the reasons he wasn't "emotionally committed" was because we didn't get to see each other very often. So, how would the "emotional committment" progress if he moved away and we saw each other less? (I chose to leave the finger quotes out of it that time, but really really wanted to use them...)
The Principal, drinking beer faster than I am at this point, told me not to worry about it. Ha. Ha-ha. I wanted to smack him. Just stand up and in classic Knot's Landing fashion lay a straight armed smack across his face. You know, the type of slap that takes a woman off balance so she lurches forward, follows through with a hair toss back then yells "I never!" with breathless indignation....
He expects me to not worry about the fact that my first real relationship in over two years is about to end? Bah! Taking the peaceful route, I told him calmly I was worried we won't see each other every weekend like he thinks we will. Then what will happpen with the whole progression of committed emotions?
I believe there was some major babbling coming out of my mouth punctuated repeatedly by "I really want you to get the job." The Principal was waving his hands all over the place as if he could just air out the subject and be done with this uncomfortable topic of feelings. We probably looked quite funny out on his patio: Waving around like he was being attacked by miniture birds. Me squirming spasmadically.
In the end he just leaned forward, patted my leg and scrunched up his face.
"You have nothing to worry about." - The Principal
I think he muttered under his breath that he just hadn't said "it" yet, but its more likely that I hallucinated that part. I threw up my hands. "We speak different languages!" How am I ever going to get anywhere with this guy? But the Principal just laughed and gave me a smile with twinkling mischief in his eyes.
I wanted to smack him again. I wanted to at the very least shake the shit out of him so he could see how serious I am. Women need reassurance, damnit. Instead we went for more beer.
After loosening up, and much talk of the dog, I brought up the job. The Principal explained what he would be doing, the company and the town. All of which I had researched extensively while at my lame ass job. I let him talk.
Nervously I raised a hand, as if in class, and asked what "we" were going to do if he moved and took on this new, bigger, complex, un-principal job. I even did the finger quotes on the we for him. The Principal blinked a few times, shrugged and repeated that he'd drive here every weekend to see me. I needed to give him a push. (Where are stairs when you really need them?)
I reminded him of the "emotional committment" conversation. One of the reasons he wasn't "emotionally committed" was because we didn't get to see each other very often. So, how would the "emotional committment" progress if he moved away and we saw each other less? (I chose to leave the finger quotes out of it that time, but really really wanted to use them...)
The Principal, drinking beer faster than I am at this point, told me not to worry about it. Ha. Ha-ha. I wanted to smack him. Just stand up and in classic Knot's Landing fashion lay a straight armed smack across his face. You know, the type of slap that takes a woman off balance so she lurches forward, follows through with a hair toss back then yells "I never!" with breathless indignation....
He expects me to not worry about the fact that my first real relationship in over two years is about to end? Bah! Taking the peaceful route, I told him calmly I was worried we won't see each other every weekend like he thinks we will. Then what will happpen with the whole progression of committed emotions?
I believe there was some major babbling coming out of my mouth punctuated repeatedly by "I really want you to get the job." The Principal was waving his hands all over the place as if he could just air out the subject and be done with this uncomfortable topic of feelings. We probably looked quite funny out on his patio: Waving around like he was being attacked by miniture birds. Me squirming spasmadically.
In the end he just leaned forward, patted my leg and scrunched up his face.
"You have nothing to worry about." - The Principal
I think he muttered under his breath that he just hadn't said "it" yet, but its more likely that I hallucinated that part. I threw up my hands. "We speak different languages!" How am I ever going to get anywhere with this guy? But the Principal just laughed and gave me a smile with twinkling mischief in his eyes.
I wanted to smack him again. I wanted to at the very least shake the shit out of him so he could see how serious I am. Women need reassurance, damnit. Instead we went for more beer.
Sharing
All week the Principal has been texting and calling me about his new dog's separation anxiety. Part of me wanted to feel special, like he was sharing something and we were getting closer. But in reality I know he just wanted someone to vent his frustrations to. He was talking at me. I was slightly annoyed.
Later that night after more listening to him go on and on, inserting my occassional "Try this" or "It will get better", he thanked me for all my advice. To top it all off he called me sweetheart. And damn it. I melted.
The problem lately is that I melt a lot about the Principal. A look, a touch, all the nice crap that he's been spewing regularly. I miss him when he leaves. I smile like a gremlin when he sends me a message. I even freaking dream about him. Its bad. Very, very bad. Not the dreaming part, though, that can be very very good... But all the feely stuff is making my head hurt.
Especially since he got an interview for a job far, far away that he really wants. I can't go falling in love with this dude if he's going to move to another state. With his dog. That he's obsessed with. Can not be falling in love with that.
To get a better perspective on my situation and a dose of the downers I called up my mom.
"The Principal is going to New Mexico next week to interview for that job."
"Oh really. Well, then I guess that's the end of him. Better start looking for someone else."
"Mom..."
"What? How can you date him in another state? It can't work! You said yourself that you don't want a long distance relationship."
"I don't want a long distance relationship... He said he would drive home every weekend."
"Yeah, that won't last long. He'll get tired of the drive, wasting the money and time. I'm just saying don't get your hopes up."
"I want him to get the job."
"Of course you do because that's what he needs to do. Its what's best for him. You just aren't going with him."
"What if I did?"
"Hmph. Did he ask you to go with him?"
Naturally, the Principal and I hadn't discussed that. I began to worry, pace, and eventually just broke down all together, which in my world translates to reading a romance novel while getting drunk. A very sloppy combination. The dog and cat both hid from me, the little bastards. Then again, I was walking around saying "Yeah right, Nora! Everyone just falls in love like that!" I knew I had to have the "Where is this relationship going" talk with the Principal, and soon or I would drive myself crazy.
More than I already am.
Later that night after more listening to him go on and on, inserting my occassional "Try this" or "It will get better", he thanked me for all my advice. To top it all off he called me sweetheart. And damn it. I melted.
The problem lately is that I melt a lot about the Principal. A look, a touch, all the nice crap that he's been spewing regularly. I miss him when he leaves. I smile like a gremlin when he sends me a message. I even freaking dream about him. Its bad. Very, very bad. Not the dreaming part, though, that can be very very good... But all the feely stuff is making my head hurt.
Especially since he got an interview for a job far, far away that he really wants. I can't go falling in love with this dude if he's going to move to another state. With his dog. That he's obsessed with. Can not be falling in love with that.
To get a better perspective on my situation and a dose of the downers I called up my mom.
"The Principal is going to New Mexico next week to interview for that job."
"Oh really. Well, then I guess that's the end of him. Better start looking for someone else."
"Mom..."
"What? How can you date him in another state? It can't work! You said yourself that you don't want a long distance relationship."
"I don't want a long distance relationship... He said he would drive home every weekend."
"Yeah, that won't last long. He'll get tired of the drive, wasting the money and time. I'm just saying don't get your hopes up."
"I want him to get the job."
"Of course you do because that's what he needs to do. Its what's best for him. You just aren't going with him."
"What if I did?"
"Hmph. Did he ask you to go with him?"
Naturally, the Principal and I hadn't discussed that. I began to worry, pace, and eventually just broke down all together, which in my world translates to reading a romance novel while getting drunk. A very sloppy combination. The dog and cat both hid from me, the little bastards. Then again, I was walking around saying "Yeah right, Nora! Everyone just falls in love like that!" I knew I had to have the "Where is this relationship going" talk with the Principal, and soon or I would drive myself crazy.
More than I already am.
Principal's Therapy Session
After the Salsa Festival revelation that the Principal considered me his girlfriend, I decided to ask some more intimate questions. This guy has been super evasive on the whole sharing aspect. Now it was time to get down to the good stuff.
I sat him at my kitchen table and asked how many times he's been in love. Ice formed over his face. He was frozen in the type of look that said he would prefer his toe nails plucked to talking about anything remotely close to personal. Jerk.
I tried again. I asked him to tell me his idea of a "relationship." Ugh. Why do I even bother? The Principal was surprisingly quick to answer however.
"Hmm... My idea of a relationship is two people mating continuously, over and over until they are 80 or one of them dies." - The Principal
All I could do was stare. I'm about 95% sure he was dead serious. So I tried asking what his idea of romance is instead.
"I don’t know.." This was said with a touch of pain. He squirmed on his seat and rubbed a hand over his face. "Why do we have to talk about this?"
There was a dirty look on his face now. Like I was intentionally torturing him and he was beginning to hate me for it. Damn men, what do they think they're doing when they refuse to open up to women? That is torture.
I know nothing about who the Principal is or what makes him tick. I know all about his work and school and affinity for chopping wood, but not much about his family or friends or feelings. Its a bad, bad sign when you consistantly ask yourself if this guy is wasting your time.
Am I going to wake up one day and we'll both be like Eh, that's done...?
I sat him at my kitchen table and asked how many times he's been in love. Ice formed over his face. He was frozen in the type of look that said he would prefer his toe nails plucked to talking about anything remotely close to personal. Jerk.
I tried again. I asked him to tell me his idea of a "relationship." Ugh. Why do I even bother? The Principal was surprisingly quick to answer however.
"Hmm... My idea of a relationship is two people mating continuously, over and over until they are 80 or one of them dies." - The Principal
All I could do was stare. I'm about 95% sure he was dead serious. So I tried asking what his idea of romance is instead.
"I don’t know.." This was said with a touch of pain. He squirmed on his seat and rubbed a hand over his face. "Why do we have to talk about this?"
There was a dirty look on his face now. Like I was intentionally torturing him and he was beginning to hate me for it. Damn men, what do they think they're doing when they refuse to open up to women? That is torture.
I know nothing about who the Principal is or what makes him tick. I know all about his work and school and affinity for chopping wood, but not much about his family or friends or feelings. Its a bad, bad sign when you consistantly ask yourself if this guy is wasting your time.
Am I going to wake up one day and we'll both be like Eh, that's done...?
Meet the Parents
The Principal picked the parents up from the airport Thursday night. My foolish expectation had been that the Principal would come over to my house to stay the night Friday, we'd go to the graduation together, and afterward I would meet these people with whom he shares DNA and eat some pizza.
This had been the plan. This was what I had vaguely been told. Years of experience should have taught me to ask more questions and nail down a definate plan of action prior to any event with a man. They just don't think a plan of any sort is necessary. Idiots.
So, midddle of the day on Friday the Principal texts me asking if I can meet at his place by 6:30pm to go for pizza. This is not the plan. I know that was not ever the plan. I began to panic sitting at my desk. It was Friday and therefore ponytail day. No need to look nice or do my hair, right? Freaking men do not understand there are things that need to be put into motion for women to look their best when they meet parents for the first time. We need to feel like we look clean cut, elegant and polished.
What would his mother think if I showed up with a ponytail? That I was childish? Lack style? Would she gossip about me at the beauty salon with her friends saying "Oh God, she wore her hair in a ponytail? Has she no taste?" And they would shake their heads and talk badly about me the rest of the afternoon.
What would his mother think if I showed up with a ponytail? That I was childish? Lack style? Would she gossip about me at the beauty salon with her friends saying "Oh God, she wore her hair in a ponytail? Has she no taste?" And they would shake their heads and talk badly about me the rest of the afternoon.
If I get off work at 5pm, rush home to take care of the animals and then fight traffic over to his place, I would have NO time to do anything to this grease trap sitting on top of my melon! Calmly, I texted the Principal: Few things I need to take care of before heading over but will be there by seven. No problem. I ran home, sternly told the cat he did not want to fuck with me right now and jumped in the shower.
I was on the road by 6:30 feeling good that I would make it to his place by 7pm. I looked nice, simple straight hair, fresh makeup. I was going for the "not trying hard" look. The only drawback is that they might think I don't care to try hard enough.... I thought I was going to faint as I drove down the 202.
This is too much pressure and way too damn awkward. I need more time to prepare my mind for this! I needed a fucking beer! The Principal had a couple beers before he had to meet my mother and that was in a busy crowded place where he had every opportunity to run away if things got weird.
When I knocked on the door the Principal answered before I was finished. Like he was waiting there for me. The guy has serious sensor alarms. I smiled tensely as he ushered me in. The Principal asked if I was nervous. I nodded. He laughed at me. I visualized tazing him in the groin.
This is it, I thought. You can run away now and perhaps these parent people will just think their son made the whole "girlfriend" story up. They'll go home and tell their friends their poor child is delusional. I'd be free to go home, put my clean hair in a nice new ponytail and finish my book over an ice cold beer. There will be no stress, other than the frantic texts from the Principal who desperately wants me to convince his parents that I'm not fictional. I could cackle at his futile attempts and refuse to respond to him.
Sigh. It would be utter bliss. But instead I walked through his place, was handed a beer and followed him to the outside patio to meet my fate.
This is it, I thought. You can run away now and perhaps these parent people will just think their son made the whole "girlfriend" story up. They'll go home and tell their friends their poor child is delusional. I'd be free to go home, put my clean hair in a nice new ponytail and finish my book over an ice cold beer. There will be no stress, other than the frantic texts from the Principal who desperately wants me to convince his parents that I'm not fictional. I could cackle at his futile attempts and refuse to respond to him.
Sigh. It would be utter bliss. But instead I walked through his place, was handed a beer and followed him to the outside patio to meet my fate.
Friday, July 9, 2010
List of Good/Bad Things (once it turns into a real relationship)
1) More comfortable sending goofy or pointless texts
2) Cuddling is much less fake (on both sides)
3) A trip to Sportsman's Warehouse and PetsMart on a Saturday is considered a date
4) The freedom to "share"
5) Men don't think the sex has to last over an hour
6) Girls don't need to do their hair when they know they'll just be "hanging out"
7) Either party can say "I missed you" for the hell of it
8) Silence is ok, if not preferred
9) You can drive each other's cars
10) You can go to bed and actually sleep
2) Cuddling is much less fake (on both sides)
3) A trip to Sportsman's Warehouse and PetsMart on a Saturday is considered a date
4) The freedom to "share"
5) Men don't think the sex has to last over an hour
6) Girls don't need to do their hair when they know they'll just be "hanging out"
7) Either party can say "I missed you" for the hell of it
8) Silence is ok, if not preferred
9) You can drive each other's cars
10) You can go to bed and actually sleep
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