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It is 5:59pm.
I haven’t heard from The Principal since Monday night. I had called him, because he’d said he would text me during my Monday Patio night with Chloe then call on Tuesday night when I was going to be free. But that bitch Chloe had to go and get herself a date so plans changed. I called him instead assuming he would then text me Tuesday as he had previously said he would do on Monday. Nada.
The whole intricate planning of communication was brought on by our Friday night conversation, a.k.a fight. I told The Principal I was unhappy by how little we communicated during the week. He attempted to brush it off. I got sarcastic. He got pissed at my sarcasm in another futile attempt to brush off the matter at hand. Then, he mentioned how I could do better at the communication part.
Summary: If I wanted more out of our relationship I have to do more about it as he cannot bear the responsibility of making me feel like I’m loved.
Result: I stopped talking to him. Decided this relationship was over and went to bed planning on telling him to eff off in the morning when I would potentially be less vicious.
In the morning I woke up alone and half hoped he had packed up and went back to New Mexico. But there he was, looking sheepish and sitting on my couch. I gave him the evil eye as I went about my business, but he kept being sheepish and nice and really kissing my ass. We had a brief talk. He spouted a few basic feelings, which I hardened my heart against because really? Basic feelings from him are like jewels, but I have to scratch his eyes out for them? Doesn’t he want to tell me he loves me and misses me on a regular basis? (More than once a month or in passing occasionally?)
We went Christmas shopping and he kissed more ass. I recognized it as nothing more than trying to get into my good graces, but that tiny part of me was glad he would put in any kind of effort. By the end of the day I softened slightly. We hung out like friends. Is this what we really are? Just meant to be friends? Because friends don’t have to have lots of communication, they can just pick up where ever and have a good time.
It is now 6:20pm. No call. No text.
Last minute I decided to get dolled up and attend company Christmas Party with The Principal last Saturday. He told me I looked great. He did not pull me into his arms and tell me how beautiful I was and how he was going to love showing me off... I made a mental note that I do not live in a romance novel.
At the Christmas Party I walk in on his arm in my flowy dress. Work Guy eyes me. I feel beautiful.
Chloe met up with us and I proceeded to having a great time ...
6:27pm. He calls. He sounds pleased by his effort.
He mentions my “girl’s night.” I don’t mention his lack of texting as promised...
6:48pm. He tries to get off phone. My fault for typing and giving him an opening to talk about my book.
The Principal moves on to talking about projects at his house. The conversation goes nowhere. He’s just talking to talk. I try to put in few comments, get into what he’s talking about. I fail.
7:01pm. He says he’s going to “get off the phone now” to take his dog on a walk. Would I like him to call me tomorrow? Ummmm… I replied he could call me if he wanted to talk to me. He laughed. I sighed. We said goodnight.
No I miss you. No I love you.
Just disconnection.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
The guy from work.
I have been very mindful to keep away from people at work. Never at ease with making new friends I have kept my nose to computer and stayed away from making work relationships. Many reasons for this:
1. I’m shy.
I know this seems silly to those who know me or read this, but I am actually a very shy person. Since junior high I have been judged as stuck up or superior and ridiculed. Stay away and I can say they don’t know me. If they get to know me they can find something real to bitch about that will hurt more.
2. I have to make a paycheck.
If I become uncomfortable with a work relationship it can interfere with my work. Meaning I might escape, i.e. quit, or be fired for poor performance. People might see me as unprofessional and I won’t advance.
3. I have more important things to think about.
Work is what I do to make ends meet, not the purpose of my existence. I want to leave, and carry on with life not worry about what so-and-so will think of me.
My reasons are based on how I will be perceived… but let’s face it, how people perceive you is how they treat you and when you spend 40 fucking hours a week with them you kind of want to be treated well.
So, a few months ago we had a new batch of sales people come through. One late afternoon of training, when they were left to their own devices, waiting for five o’clock to roll around, one guy comes up to my desk to chat. Five minutes into the conversation I got a call and excused myself thinking he would go away. No such luck. He waited. I wanted to kick him.
I endured a 30 minute conversation of smiling and trying to be polite. My face felt like it was going to fall apart. The following afternoon repeated the painful experience and I felt like all the guys around me were laughing. After this particular suitor got into the job he left me alone and all was right with the world again.
Until one day in the break room... I was getting some water and he approached asking about my book. This thing is nothing but a pain in my ass.
“I heard you are writing a book about dating.” He says.
“Uh…”
“Someone told me you are writing a book.”
“Yes… started it about internet dating. Experiences and stuff.”
I am super eloquent when caught off guard. I proceeded in half sentences about why I began to write this failure of a journal and then dislodged myself from the conversation so I could crawl back to my cube. I thought it was over and vowed never to find myself in the break room with him again.
Less than ten minutes later I get an email explaining that he heard about my book through conversations he’d had with co-workers regarding his own dating experiences. They suggested he write a book about all the crazies he encountered. The subject came up that I was doing so. Who the fuck is discussing me? I thought.
We emailed back and forth, casually, it seemed. I talked about the Principal and the start of our LDR. He talked about the long term relationships he’d endured and how he was approaching dating now (not internet yet) mixed in with trivialities of life in general. Very disarming.
He gave me his number more than twice, which I deleted upon receiving. One day however, he mentioned a short story based on a photo taken at work he’d written and I gave him my personal email. I also let him read my blog.
The plot thickens.
He would email me at home and I would check to see if he had. Bad business. Everything was very mundane and normal until he went out of town, emailed me drunk how much he liked me and I had to be professional, shoot him down. He took it with stride. Apologized for putting me in that position, etc, etc. The helping factor was that I’d learned he’d fooled around with at least two other people at work and called him out on it.
Now, I realize this guy is a womanizer and using my own ego against me. By confessing how much he likes me, as a person, he has my soft side, but I understand the confession was all about getting to the soft side so he can get to every side.
I also know I love the Principal. My Catholic guilt is severely kicking my ass because while I love the Principal I enjoy getting the attention of Work Guy.
Work Guy emails me about his dates and how he picks up on girls. It happens to be hilarious, but I try to be supportive. By constantly asking him what he wants I feel I am pushing him toward a truth: He doesn’t know what he wants.
I have tried to explain to him that if he understands he is pursuing women to have fun, be light hearted with, then he will attract such women. But if he is looking for a relationship his methods are all wrong. Fun party girls are not going to give him depth and commitment. When told that, he’s content with not being ready for a relationship after his two consecutive long term girlfriends. However, it just doesn’t add up.
Becoming his friend through the safe medium of email allowed me to see his humor and intelligence. It was just too bad the dude is a Lech. He messed around with a hot Scottsdale looking workmate so she could get back at her estranged lover, who is another workmate. Then he screwed a young workmate who happens to be the company gossip mill… All the while hitting on random girls at Target and the grocery store. Goal: How many numbers he can get.
I do admire his energy. He seems to be able to go out with multiple girls all the time. It makes me tired just to think about it. All the getting to know you shit and being yourself, but not offending anybody that usually makes my back hurt, he seems to thrive on.
At first, I felt like I was making a friend. I looked forward to emailing him, laughing at his responses. And it felt safe. I wasn’t actually face to face with him, nor interested in him as anything other than a friend/co-worker, even after his drunken email.
One afternoon I was emailing him about going to Scottsdale to pick up a chair the Principal had ordered. He lived “right around the corner” and would meet me for a drink if I was up for it. At the time he had been dating a girl for 5 weeks so I didn’t think it was odd for two co-workers to get a drink. (Yes, I know I am stupid.)
We had bar food and a couple beers. It was the first time I had a face to face conversation with him since he asked about my book in the break room. I doubted my sanity that this was a good thing
for me to be doing…
Casually, but quite obviously, he checked out the waitress. I had to snort. She was a waitress in her thirties, severely underweight and a little worse for the wear. I said as much and he was appalled. She couldn’t be that old! I gave him my interpretation of waitresses of that age. She probably had kids, and why the hell was she waitressing? Not that it’s a bad profession, but how do her goals match up with his?
Work Guy was further taken aback. This was some sort of freaking revelation for him. Should he actually look beyond a tight ass and consider the shit that could potentially come out of a woman’s mouth which might make her enjoyable to just be around? The next day he was all over the ideology that he should not date waitresses… But hostesses were still game. They exhibited some class, right?
After dinner we half hugged like friends with leprosy and drove away.
We discussed his affinity for socks. He wears colorful, wacky socks and makes sure to match them to his outfit. If he wasn’t such a womanizer I would assume him gay. I also had to insert how my socks rarely match and are often inside out.
A week later, owing him money from the first night, we got sushi on my dime. I was determined to make it even because I didn’t want him thinking we went out and he bought my dinner. It wasn’t as laid back this time. I was uncomfortable and it felt like a date. Dangerous ground as I have a boyfriend in another state who only occasionally talks to me.
Work Guy gave me fuzzy socks to mix match at my pleasure. It was a nice gesture… but a date like gesture and I told him so. Backing off he shrugged and said he couldn’t not buy them for me, he laughed when he saw them. I brushed it off.
I have a tendency to be naive about male attention…
At the end of the night we walked out to our cars, he gave me a hug and looked into my eyes. I patted his shoulder, said no (to that “I might try to kiss you look”) and then complimented his sweater. Right there in the parking lot he took off his sweater and gave it to me. Then said goodnight and walked off in his undershirt.
I drove home, repeatedly telling myself it was merely a friendly act of giving me a sweater he’d bought for $5 at Old Navy and not a romantic gesture of any sort. But it smelled good and manly. So I put it on.
The next night I went over to Angie’s house for beer and girl talk. Her relationship with Buff Guy is going exceedingly well. They are in love, he is swooning over her and she feels, for the first time, like she is truly adored. I love her so I didn’t bitch slap her. It is impossible for me to be jealous when I know she deserves every bit of this great time she’s having.
I talked about Work Guy casually, but her ears perked up about the socks and sweater. I just hung my head and cried out “I don’t know what’s wrong with me!” Her look had said it all. What was I doing? It was inappropriate to be emailing and sometimes texting a guy who is not my boyfriend.
Angie, always quick to counsel me, jumps in that I wouldn’t be seeking this attention if I was getting what I needed from the Principal. (One of the reasons she is my best friend is because she constantly tells me how I’m gorgeous and could have my pick of any men. She’s delusional, but I like it.) She also gets real testy whenever I talk about the communication deficiencies I have with the Principal.
So, I decided I no longer needed to talk to Work Guy. It was detrimental to my relationship and I could no longer call it innocent. I texted him that our friendship was inappropriate and we should not communicate outside of work nor email about non-work related things. He was very understanding.
The next day at work was tense. I didn’t look at him, and he didn’t look at me. He left early and I felt a wave of relief that it was over.
Monday morning I ran into him in the break room. There were a couple other people there, all chatting, and Work Guy looked like he’d rather have hot pokers shoved up his arse than try to wade through coworkers to get his tea. I tried to be casual. It was so awkward. When I got back to my desk, I emailed him that he needn’t feel uncomfortable around me. I hoped he wouldn’t be one of those guys who hates a girl after she rejects his advances…
He liked that I called him out on his acting like a ninny. We joked. Relief. I wouldn’t need to find a new job after all...
1. I’m shy.
I know this seems silly to those who know me or read this, but I am actually a very shy person. Since junior high I have been judged as stuck up or superior and ridiculed. Stay away and I can say they don’t know me. If they get to know me they can find something real to bitch about that will hurt more.
2. I have to make a paycheck.
If I become uncomfortable with a work relationship it can interfere with my work. Meaning I might escape, i.e. quit, or be fired for poor performance. People might see me as unprofessional and I won’t advance.
3. I have more important things to think about.
Work is what I do to make ends meet, not the purpose of my existence. I want to leave, and carry on with life not worry about what so-and-so will think of me.
My reasons are based on how I will be perceived… but let’s face it, how people perceive you is how they treat you and when you spend 40 fucking hours a week with them you kind of want to be treated well.
So, a few months ago we had a new batch of sales people come through. One late afternoon of training, when they were left to their own devices, waiting for five o’clock to roll around, one guy comes up to my desk to chat. Five minutes into the conversation I got a call and excused myself thinking he would go away. No such luck. He waited. I wanted to kick him.
I endured a 30 minute conversation of smiling and trying to be polite. My face felt like it was going to fall apart. The following afternoon repeated the painful experience and I felt like all the guys around me were laughing. After this particular suitor got into the job he left me alone and all was right with the world again.
Until one day in the break room... I was getting some water and he approached asking about my book. This thing is nothing but a pain in my ass.
“I heard you are writing a book about dating.” He says.
“Uh…”
“Someone told me you are writing a book.”
“Yes… started it about internet dating. Experiences and stuff.”
I am super eloquent when caught off guard. I proceeded in half sentences about why I began to write this failure of a journal and then dislodged myself from the conversation so I could crawl back to my cube. I thought it was over and vowed never to find myself in the break room with him again.
Less than ten minutes later I get an email explaining that he heard about my book through conversations he’d had with co-workers regarding his own dating experiences. They suggested he write a book about all the crazies he encountered. The subject came up that I was doing so. Who the fuck is discussing me? I thought.
We emailed back and forth, casually, it seemed. I talked about the Principal and the start of our LDR. He talked about the long term relationships he’d endured and how he was approaching dating now (not internet yet) mixed in with trivialities of life in general. Very disarming.
He gave me his number more than twice, which I deleted upon receiving. One day however, he mentioned a short story based on a photo taken at work he’d written and I gave him my personal email. I also let him read my blog.
The plot thickens.
He would email me at home and I would check to see if he had. Bad business. Everything was very mundane and normal until he went out of town, emailed me drunk how much he liked me and I had to be professional, shoot him down. He took it with stride. Apologized for putting me in that position, etc, etc. The helping factor was that I’d learned he’d fooled around with at least two other people at work and called him out on it.
Now, I realize this guy is a womanizer and using my own ego against me. By confessing how much he likes me, as a person, he has my soft side, but I understand the confession was all about getting to the soft side so he can get to every side.
I also know I love the Principal. My Catholic guilt is severely kicking my ass because while I love the Principal I enjoy getting the attention of Work Guy.
Work Guy emails me about his dates and how he picks up on girls. It happens to be hilarious, but I try to be supportive. By constantly asking him what he wants I feel I am pushing him toward a truth: He doesn’t know what he wants.
I have tried to explain to him that if he understands he is pursuing women to have fun, be light hearted with, then he will attract such women. But if he is looking for a relationship his methods are all wrong. Fun party girls are not going to give him depth and commitment. When told that, he’s content with not being ready for a relationship after his two consecutive long term girlfriends. However, it just doesn’t add up.
Becoming his friend through the safe medium of email allowed me to see his humor and intelligence. It was just too bad the dude is a Lech. He messed around with a hot Scottsdale looking workmate so she could get back at her estranged lover, who is another workmate. Then he screwed a young workmate who happens to be the company gossip mill… All the while hitting on random girls at Target and the grocery store. Goal: How many numbers he can get.
I do admire his energy. He seems to be able to go out with multiple girls all the time. It makes me tired just to think about it. All the getting to know you shit and being yourself, but not offending anybody that usually makes my back hurt, he seems to thrive on.
At first, I felt like I was making a friend. I looked forward to emailing him, laughing at his responses. And it felt safe. I wasn’t actually face to face with him, nor interested in him as anything other than a friend/co-worker, even after his drunken email.
One afternoon I was emailing him about going to Scottsdale to pick up a chair the Principal had ordered. He lived “right around the corner” and would meet me for a drink if I was up for it. At the time he had been dating a girl for 5 weeks so I didn’t think it was odd for two co-workers to get a drink. (Yes, I know I am stupid.)
We had bar food and a couple beers. It was the first time I had a face to face conversation with him since he asked about my book in the break room. I doubted my sanity that this was a good thing
for me to be doing…
Casually, but quite obviously, he checked out the waitress. I had to snort. She was a waitress in her thirties, severely underweight and a little worse for the wear. I said as much and he was appalled. She couldn’t be that old! I gave him my interpretation of waitresses of that age. She probably had kids, and why the hell was she waitressing? Not that it’s a bad profession, but how do her goals match up with his?
Work Guy was further taken aback. This was some sort of freaking revelation for him. Should he actually look beyond a tight ass and consider the shit that could potentially come out of a woman’s mouth which might make her enjoyable to just be around? The next day he was all over the ideology that he should not date waitresses… But hostesses were still game. They exhibited some class, right?
After dinner we half hugged like friends with leprosy and drove away.
We discussed his affinity for socks. He wears colorful, wacky socks and makes sure to match them to his outfit. If he wasn’t such a womanizer I would assume him gay. I also had to insert how my socks rarely match and are often inside out.
A week later, owing him money from the first night, we got sushi on my dime. I was determined to make it even because I didn’t want him thinking we went out and he bought my dinner. It wasn’t as laid back this time. I was uncomfortable and it felt like a date. Dangerous ground as I have a boyfriend in another state who only occasionally talks to me.
Work Guy gave me fuzzy socks to mix match at my pleasure. It was a nice gesture… but a date like gesture and I told him so. Backing off he shrugged and said he couldn’t not buy them for me, he laughed when he saw them. I brushed it off.
I have a tendency to be naive about male attention…
At the end of the night we walked out to our cars, he gave me a hug and looked into my eyes. I patted his shoulder, said no (to that “I might try to kiss you look”) and then complimented his sweater. Right there in the parking lot he took off his sweater and gave it to me. Then said goodnight and walked off in his undershirt.
I drove home, repeatedly telling myself it was merely a friendly act of giving me a sweater he’d bought for $5 at Old Navy and not a romantic gesture of any sort. But it smelled good and manly. So I put it on.
The next night I went over to Angie’s house for beer and girl talk. Her relationship with Buff Guy is going exceedingly well. They are in love, he is swooning over her and she feels, for the first time, like she is truly adored. I love her so I didn’t bitch slap her. It is impossible for me to be jealous when I know she deserves every bit of this great time she’s having.
I talked about Work Guy casually, but her ears perked up about the socks and sweater. I just hung my head and cried out “I don’t know what’s wrong with me!” Her look had said it all. What was I doing? It was inappropriate to be emailing and sometimes texting a guy who is not my boyfriend.
Angie, always quick to counsel me, jumps in that I wouldn’t be seeking this attention if I was getting what I needed from the Principal. (One of the reasons she is my best friend is because she constantly tells me how I’m gorgeous and could have my pick of any men. She’s delusional, but I like it.) She also gets real testy whenever I talk about the communication deficiencies I have with the Principal.
So, I decided I no longer needed to talk to Work Guy. It was detrimental to my relationship and I could no longer call it innocent. I texted him that our friendship was inappropriate and we should not communicate outside of work nor email about non-work related things. He was very understanding.
The next day at work was tense. I didn’t look at him, and he didn’t look at me. He left early and I felt a wave of relief that it was over.
Monday morning I ran into him in the break room. There were a couple other people there, all chatting, and Work Guy looked like he’d rather have hot pokers shoved up his arse than try to wade through coworkers to get his tea. I tried to be casual. It was so awkward. When I got back to my desk, I emailed him that he needn’t feel uncomfortable around me. I hoped he wouldn’t be one of those guys who hates a girl after she rejects his advances…
He liked that I called him out on his acting like a ninny. We joked. Relief. I wouldn’t need to find a new job after all...
Cosmic Love: by Florence and the Machine
My friend Chloe gave me a mixed cd with some of her favorite songs. This Cosmic Love by Florence and the Machines made me move. I had to pull it out of the car, bring it in the house and dance like an eejit. Later, I heard the words and they made me realize the passion I felt in the music was only secondary to the meaning of the song.
It's about longing. Being utterly consumed by a passionate connection that you cannot stand being in your own body. Your soul is reaching out into the universe just to hear that heartbeat.
"A falling star fell from your heart and landed in my eyes
I screamed aloud, as it tore through them, and now it's left me blind
The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out
You left me in the dark
No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight
In the shadow of your heart
And in the dark, I can hear your heartbeat
I tried to find the sound
But then it stopped, and I was in the darkness,
So darkness I became
The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out
You left me in the dark
No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight
In the shadow of your heart
I took the stars from our eyes, and then I made a map
And knew that somehow I could find my way back
Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too
So I stayed in the darkness with you
The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out
You left me in the dark
No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight
In the shadow of your heart"
It's about longing. Being utterly consumed by a passionate connection that you cannot stand being in your own body. Your soul is reaching out into the universe just to hear that heartbeat.
"A falling star fell from your heart and landed in my eyes
I screamed aloud, as it tore through them, and now it's left me blind
The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out
You left me in the dark
No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight
In the shadow of your heart
And in the dark, I can hear your heartbeat
I tried to find the sound
But then it stopped, and I was in the darkness,
So darkness I became
The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out
You left me in the dark
No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight
In the shadow of your heart
I took the stars from our eyes, and then I made a map
And knew that somehow I could find my way back
Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too
So I stayed in the darkness with you
The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out
You left me in the dark
No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight
In the shadow of your heart"
It's been a long time since I've been driven by the need to dance. This song brought about a tiny internal freedom. Thanks, Chloe.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Needing Men
The concept of “needing a man” is considered outdated and ridiculous to most modern women today. We go through school, get jobs, buy property, develop political views and basically can live our lives just as men do. Women no longer need men to do odd jobs around the house as we can Google or YouTube any how-to manual/ video we might need at the click of a button… or pay a professional.
Societal constraints dropping away by means of the sexual revolution have allowed women to approach sex separated from an obligatory relationship as well. Considered completely capable, in most cases, women are free in all ways to support and protect themselves. Select technology has also made them free to please themselves…
So, we thoroughly modern Millie’s don’t need men as much as we may want men. We want to share our lives, confide in another living person about what matters to us and feel that we are cared about. But is that really a want… or is it a new kind of need? Dr. Gray, Men are from Mars Women are from Venus, believes so. And after my most recent stint in reading fiction I may believe so too.
In most books I have read recently, there seems to be a hero and a heroine. They have their differences, even rail against one another for some time before an event has them crashing together. Most of all, there is some need that binds them. This magnet rope wraps them in a state of need becoming an electric desire that makes them want each other so fiercely they end up falling in the depths of the deepest love. Whenever the moment comes where the heroine dips her head in futility and succumbs to admittance of her need for the hero I find myself shaking my head.
Why? I ask. Why couldn’t she just suck it up and do it herself? Because he needed her to need him. In fixing her problem he felt he won her respect, if not her heart. Now, while we all can’t be saved by pirates, it is nice to imagine telling a man you need help and enjoying his pride at doing the simplest thing for you.
Needing a man to help you take out the trash is insulting. Right? Are you not strong enough to take the trash out on your own? Are you not aware enough of your surroundings to make it to the dumpster safely and back inside? Are you not capable enough to do the job without making a mess, and if you do make a mess, won’t you clean up after yourself?
Women have learned over the past 50 years to take offence when a man would do for her what she knows she can do for herself. The difference is that today men know that we are capable creatures, where as 50 years ago there were still some serious doubts.
So, I’ll go back in time and say Yes! I need a man to take the trash out! Not because I can’t, but because I don’t like doing it and it needs to go out sometime. Like now… but it is too cold and late at night for little ole me to venture out of doors unescorted….
Dr. Gray further believes that we women sabotage our relationships by not needing men. Everybody’s got to screw it up somehow.
Societal constraints dropping away by means of the sexual revolution have allowed women to approach sex separated from an obligatory relationship as well. Considered completely capable, in most cases, women are free in all ways to support and protect themselves. Select technology has also made them free to please themselves…
So, we thoroughly modern Millie’s don’t need men as much as we may want men. We want to share our lives, confide in another living person about what matters to us and feel that we are cared about. But is that really a want… or is it a new kind of need? Dr. Gray, Men are from Mars Women are from Venus, believes so. And after my most recent stint in reading fiction I may believe so too.
In most books I have read recently, there seems to be a hero and a heroine. They have their differences, even rail against one another for some time before an event has them crashing together. Most of all, there is some need that binds them. This magnet rope wraps them in a state of need becoming an electric desire that makes them want each other so fiercely they end up falling in the depths of the deepest love. Whenever the moment comes where the heroine dips her head in futility and succumbs to admittance of her need for the hero I find myself shaking my head.
Why? I ask. Why couldn’t she just suck it up and do it herself? Because he needed her to need him. In fixing her problem he felt he won her respect, if not her heart. Now, while we all can’t be saved by pirates, it is nice to imagine telling a man you need help and enjoying his pride at doing the simplest thing for you.
Needing a man to help you take out the trash is insulting. Right? Are you not strong enough to take the trash out on your own? Are you not aware enough of your surroundings to make it to the dumpster safely and back inside? Are you not capable enough to do the job without making a mess, and if you do make a mess, won’t you clean up after yourself?
Women have learned over the past 50 years to take offence when a man would do for her what she knows she can do for herself. The difference is that today men know that we are capable creatures, where as 50 years ago there were still some serious doubts.
So, I’ll go back in time and say Yes! I need a man to take the trash out! Not because I can’t, but because I don’t like doing it and it needs to go out sometime. Like now… but it is too cold and late at night for little ole me to venture out of doors unescorted….
Dr. Gray further believes that we women sabotage our relationships by not needing men. Everybody’s got to screw it up somehow.
Naming the Puppy
Okay, the whole reason behind my names for the men in this journal is the same as naming puppies, as a rule.
When you go to a pet store/pound/adoption place you never, EVER, name a cute cuddly animal that you see. If you do, then you are setting yourself up for disaster. Should another person walk up and decide to take home little “Dewdrop” or whatever the hell you named it, you would be heartbroken.
Or, you decide to take the mutt home yourself where it proceeds to shitting and pissing all over the carpet. If you name the puppy, you become emotionally attached. You either cry because it runs away or you cry because there is new shit for you to clean up.
By calling a puppy what it is, “brown dog” or “smooshed face”, you are only stating the facts and keeping a distance from it. For the sake of my own emotional health I have found that when a “guy” rejects me or is annoying I tend to take it less personally than if John, Dick or Harry does it.
But for the record, none of the guys in this journal are named John or Dick or Harry, though there are some hairy guys… hehehehe! Sorry, I’m a bit corny which is yet another reason I remain a spinster…
When you go to a pet store/pound/adoption place you never, EVER, name a cute cuddly animal that you see. If you do, then you are setting yourself up for disaster. Should another person walk up and decide to take home little “Dewdrop” or whatever the hell you named it, you would be heartbroken.
Or, you decide to take the mutt home yourself where it proceeds to shitting and pissing all over the carpet. If you name the puppy, you become emotionally attached. You either cry because it runs away or you cry because there is new shit for you to clean up.
By calling a puppy what it is, “brown dog” or “smooshed face”, you are only stating the facts and keeping a distance from it. For the sake of my own emotional health I have found that when a “guy” rejects me or is annoying I tend to take it less personally than if John, Dick or Harry does it.
But for the record, none of the guys in this journal are named John or Dick or Harry, though there are some hairy guys… hehehehe! Sorry, I’m a bit corny which is yet another reason I remain a spinster…
The Land of Kate
There is a place called Kate.
It is this funny little realm where a normal looking girl can transform mystically into a fairy, pixie, or kung fu killer.
In this land of Kate, I can become my true self. I can head bang. I can karate chop. I can speak foreign languages. Most of all, I don’t have to think about anything other than what pops out of my ever loving soul. Dancing like an idiot is second nature in the land of Kate, as is singing off key. Laughing maniacally in this place is most renowned.
Mostly, I think that being one’s true self from time to time and reveling in the feeling of abandonment is the most freeing, fleeting moment we can have. Embrace the land of Kate! Hug it like a stuffed animal won at the fair! Rub up against it like a cat in heat! Shimmy at it!
We all need that place that springs into existence suddenly and unannounced to make us realize what life is really all about. When we can snigger at ourselves and say “what the hell” then we can drop the pain, regret, worry, grief, heartbreak, loneliness and turmoil that the day to day toils of life normally provide. We can let loose, be free and get jiggy.
It is this funny little realm where a normal looking girl can transform mystically into a fairy, pixie, or kung fu killer.
In this land of Kate, I can become my true self. I can head bang. I can karate chop. I can speak foreign languages. Most of all, I don’t have to think about anything other than what pops out of my ever loving soul. Dancing like an idiot is second nature in the land of Kate, as is singing off key. Laughing maniacally in this place is most renowned.
Mostly, I think that being one’s true self from time to time and reveling in the feeling of abandonment is the most freeing, fleeting moment we can have. Embrace the land of Kate! Hug it like a stuffed animal won at the fair! Rub up against it like a cat in heat! Shimmy at it!
We all need that place that springs into existence suddenly and unannounced to make us realize what life is really all about. When we can snigger at ourselves and say “what the hell” then we can drop the pain, regret, worry, grief, heartbreak, loneliness and turmoil that the day to day toils of life normally provide. We can let loose, be free and get jiggy.
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