Trying to be brave

The week following my sad Christmas was strange at work. I was doing yoga every day, which is the shit by the way, and feeling a lot better as a person. BP might be mildly interesting in me as a distraction but I don't see a future with some guy who has so little interest in me.

Work Guy's parting words "It's sad you don't know how to chase someone you love" kept echoing in my ears. Have I missed out on someone special because my pride was too great and kept me from pursuing love when I thought I would meet rejection? I always felt like if someone didn't want me, they weren't worth it to bend down, lift their ego up, and beg for something they weren't going to give me anyway.

I still stare at my feet when Work Guy crosses my path. He looks at me, waiting to be acknowledged, but I can't do it. I want to disappear.

Back to the evil internet dating. I browse, put some feelers out there, and actually found a guy I was remotely interested in. He lives near the slope, is a year older, went to Catholic school for 13 years and, according to his pictures, is hot. We've emailed a couple times but we'll see where that goes.

At any rate, I am feeling more ME again. Not needing anything, just going with the yoga flow.

Yesterday at work, the branch manager position gets posted again for Salt Lake. I couldn't contain myself! Maybe Work Guy would move and I would never have to see him again. My slow, slithering healing process would speed up and I would stop dreaming about him! I forwarded the email to him and asked if he was going to reapply. Unfortunately, he had promised with his recent promotion to stay in that position for a year... Hopes dashed, I plummetted back to earth. I would have to see him every day for another year. No speedy recovery in my future.

We ended up emailing back and forth. I told him about yoga, he commented something about my mich ultra (the guy had to have thought I was an alcoholic), I emailed back how I can't manage the beer and yoga, he sent me picks of his best guy friend doing yoga, which led to him claiming he could do the splits.. Today I told him to prove it. Friendly banter. Asshole probably didn't understand how much that hurt.

Finally, I did something I have forbidden myself to do at work. I spoke to him. As he passed by (like he does several times a day) I told him I wanted a demonstration of his splits. He hedged. I was making him extremely uncomfortable. I took hold of that and boosted my confidence like I haven't had in a looooooooooooooooooooong time. I remembered how I used to be able to tongue tie him and outwit the cleverest come back. I won, this time.

As he walked away, a little unnerved that I'd spoken to him, I was so hopped up on my insignificant victory that I misjudged my own power and knocked my water all over the desk. I spent the next ten minutes cleaning up. He didn't see. Thank God.

The day was wrapping up and my boss stopped by the desk to invite me to happy hour. Not everyone gets invited. I asked if my old boss was going to be there. Affirmative. Hmm. I really want to go to yoga. I brought my bag. But I need to play a little of the corporate game, right? This is how a person can swing coming in late and slacking off occasionally and get s promoted. It worked for Work Guy.

Then I was stupid enough to ask who else would be there. Another sales rep and Work Guy. Of course. I immediately started to sweat. If I went, I would have to pretend everything was hunky dory. If I didn't go I might lose out on future invites and it would be reported that I declined because my ex would be present. I had to be brave.

So, I went. I got there ahead of my boss. The sales rep was one from my training class, older guy and nice enough so he started talking away. I talked with Work Guy as if we had always been friends and nothing more. I was sweating so bad! It's cold outside but I was more nervous than a prostitute in church. I had resolved to have one beer, head home to drink copious amounts of water and go to yoga. My boss bought me another beer when I was hedging to leave. Work Guy had ordered two drinks, so I thought his girlfriend was going to show up any minute. I had to leave, had to, had to, had to. But they were both for him.

After a heated politically incorrect conversation I decided to have a cigarette. My boss joined me and I mentioned how I thought I had made Work Guy sufficiently uncomfortable by coming.

"Good! He needs that. The guy puts on a brave face but I don't think he's as confident as he'd like everyone to believe."

We segued into work stuff, I got the insider perspective and all was good with the world. Back at the table my old boss brought up the guy I sit next to who I call affectionately The Serial Killer in Training, mostly because he looks like Elijah Woods in "Sin City". Old Boss asked if we'd gotten up to any more antics this week. I felt Work Guy's ears perk up and his eyes dart in my direction. I laughed and simply told the story about our music fight. We were friends, he has a girlfriend. Nice Guy, not a lech like Work Guy. Didn't say that, but eluded to the fact that there was nothing there but a work friendship.

Work Guy left before I did so I wouldn't have to worry about walking alone in a parking lot where he had first kissed me with him watching and knowing.

It was like being a parallel universe. The one I should have stayed in before ever becoming involved with him in any way. The one where I would have kept on believing he was an entertaining lech who was fun to be friends with instead of my current domain where I fell in love with him even though I knew I would never be what he wanted.

So I drove home, knowing that after those two wretched beers I would be unable to do a standing bow pose which as what I would rather have been doing than drinking with those people. I missed out doing something I loved just to put on a brave face and show that I could still hang like the rest of them. That I am impervious.

I think this might be my problem. In my quest to not be That Girl, I block out any opportunities I might have with my stone cold frigid wall.

Merry Christmas

This year my sister and brother-in-law were spending Christmas in Kentucky or Arkansas or Tennessee or some other backward country state. That left just my lovely mother and I. Sigh. I really am going to be that old spinster who gets stuck taking care of her mother while everyone else has a life of their own.

Monday before Christmas, BP texts
"What are you up to tonight?"
I respond
"Hot yoga at 4"
No response.

The next day he asks if I want to get a drink after work. I am chagrined to take a day off of yoga but decide I can swing it. We meet at a local bar I used to frequent at work happy hours with Work Guy. Meeting after 6 was ideal as I would not be running into the evil bastard who broke my heart.

What can I say? It was an uneventful evening where we sat over a couple beers talking, sort of, and were waited on by the same waitress who waits on my work people. BP had made it clear what he doesn't like to hear from women, ie cute anecdotes about their animals, how they shopped for wrapping paper with their mothers. I didn't know what to say.

At some point he mentioned how his friend had scored tickets to Guns N Roses. I had a heart attack! I love GNR, love, love, love them! BP goes on to say how he wants to get tickets. I dance around in my seat saying how I would , yes again, love to see them. No forthcoming invite. I wanted to kick him.

Later, BP says how he will have a lot of people at his house for Christmas Eve and Christmas, but he might be able to sneak away to see me. Ummm.. ok. What the hell? He can't invite me over or stop by my mom's place for an hour? I didn't push, I didn't ask. If this guy actually liked me at ALL he would stop making statements of maybes and start making some plans. Small plans. Like why don't we find a time to hang out for a little while during all the Christmas turmoil. Even if it doesn't pan out, it would still be nice to know he wanted to.

I asked what he plans on doing with his Monday off. Well, thought he might pick up some toys, meaning these off road things he sells for a living, and take out his friends. I mention how excited I am to have Monday off. No invite. Then, oh my gosh, maybe I could come along, we'll see how things work out. Can you say brush off?

We talked about people from high school, I made a couple comments about guys I had dated, which surprised him and I think he was beginning to feel like I was a used toy that too many people had played with. I really need to learn to keep my mouth SHUT.

The following day at work we got out two hours early. Work Guy was absent, therefore I was invited to happy hour with my old and current bosses. I went back to the bar I had been to the night before hoping that it was our waitress' night off. No luck. She artfully asked in front of people if the guy I was in with the night before was my new man. No, we were just dating. My old boss asked "Why, Miss Kate, are you dating again?" I felt so uncomfortable. This guy was good friends with the ex. I shrugged and said "You could loosely term it that way."

Christmas Eve I drove to CG with dread. I love my mother, I really do. But we have never gotten along very well. Here I am, destined to spend the next 30 hours with her by myself while she will be wishing that my sister was there. It went better than expected.

We ate dinner, watched a couple movies and went to bed. In the morning we opened a couple presents and ate breakfast. With the yoga DVD and mat I bought her, I pushed the idea of a little yoga before I got ready to clean offices. She muttered through out the entire thing that she couldn't do it exactly the way the bitch in the tape did,

A look at my phone had a text from BP. He stopped by the house an hour before, didn't want to brave the dogs (he had met before) in the front yard and left a present next to my car. Hadn't tried to call. Just texted when he left.

I was bewildered. One hand said "This is a nice gesture." The other said "Why would he get you a gift and not bother to say hello when he left it?" So I retrieved the holiday bag with my name written on it from beside my tire. It contained a bottle of perfume and his business card. Weird. The perfume smelled good but why did he leave his business card?

I texted him thank you and sorry I had missed him. All I got back was "Your welcome" which made me miss Work Guy because I had always accidentally misused your for you're and he had claimed it was endearing. Lying bastard. After a few more dwindling texts I didn't hear from BP that evening or the following day. My house was silent and I felt like the holiday cheer had completely bypassed me, as if this year Christmas never really came.

Facebook revealed that BP had gone out with his friends and their toys, but he never asked what I was doing. The next day I read an article which said if a guy doesn't make the effort, or makes way too much effort, he's not into you. I nodded. This was correct. I tried texting BP, a few dwindling texts in response. I give up. This guy, who I have known for almost half my life, is a nice guy.

He's just not going to be the guy for me.

Work Holdiay Party: Year Two

Sitting on my patio with Mel some time in November I mentioned casually that I'd asked BP to be my work party date. I dreaded going it alone knowing that Work Guy would be there, probably with his newest conquest who would undoubtedly be thinner than me. She smiled and nodded. She gave me this look that said "Good, you NEED to have a date to THIS function."

I couldn't help it. My heart constricted. So he shall not be named has moved on. Mel is on a committee with Work Guy and hears all his latest exploits which she keeps from in hopes I will move on too.

"So he has a new girlfriend?" I sounded small and like I would cry. She immediately felt awful for telling me.

"I wouldn't call her his girlfriend, he just says they're 'seeing each other' very pointedly. The way he talks about her, man, he is a Douche. Who the fuck would want to date his fat ass anyway." I love Mel, she always says the right thing in the least eloquent way possible.

She changed the subject but I was breaking apart inside. It is so wrong to have to hear about your ex moving on, seeing it every day at work, when you're left a shadow of a person. NEVER date someone you work with. NEVER.

So, the Holiday Party rolls around and I have the unfortunate experience of dress shopping a few hours before. I need to look good. Not for Work Guy but for my pride. He will have some skinny little thing hanging off his arm whom he has probably told every gross detail of my inferior-ness to her beauty and I will have to walk around looking my absolute best knowing this.

I chose a strapless ruffled dress I hoped wouldn't make me look too chunky. I ran to Victoria's Secret to buy a strapless bra, having not owned an outfit which would require one in many a year, I was out of practice. No one would help me. I chose the only one I could find and went to the dressing room. It fit weird. I asked for help and had a toddler pick a few out that might work. When I asked for a larger size in one she told me "Well, that bra is made for younger women so it really doesn't go up into your size." I stared. I am not, by any means, a busty lady. Nor am I eligible for medicare for the next few decades. What the fuck does she mean by "younger"? I contemplated telling her that I had worked at VS before she even had boobs but in thought that would kill my whole age case.

I bought the bra I started out with and resolved I would never go back to that store.

I hurried home to get ready at lightning speed. BP showed up looking dapper in a button down shirt and tie. No cowboy outfit like he had threatened. When I came out in my dress, heels and red jewelry he gave me a very appreciative look. I blushed. However he did not tell me I looked amazing or take me into his arms to kiss me passionately. Deja vu reminded me, yet again, that I do not live in a romance novel.

Mel and her man met us at the house and we all took BP's truck to the party. I was a little worried about getting upset, but BP is fun to be around and I looked forward to dancing. I walked in, just like last year and Work Guy was standing in exactly the same place. There was eye contact for about a second before I looked back at my handsome date. I was determined to have a fun time.

And we did. Besides the fact that the lady who runs the whole party took my plus one to mean only one and gave me half the drink tickets I should have had and later had to be hunted down to get a poker pass for the whole casino playing thing.... We laughed, drank and were marry.

BP was the perfect date. Attentive but not grabby. Understood I had to schmooze a little and was content entertaining himself. We gambled, I line danced, he put up with loud Mel and her even louder boyfriend. He draped his arm around me casually, leaned in to talk, rubbed my leg affectionately. Told me I had to keep that dress on all night.

Some mutual friends of Work Guy came over to say hi. They were unintentionally sitting at the table behind us... with Work Guy and his midget date. I swear to God she was 5"3" in heels and walked like they were killing her. She was cute and petite in a simple black dress with her brown hair pulled half back. She was pretty, but not the bombshell I was dreading. They seemed newly dating and uncomfortable. I felt a little sorry for them. But not too much.

Mel told me later that she overheard them fighting. Apparently New Girl was ripping Work Guy a new asshole and he just looked in the other direction. Sigh, I remember that. Lucky lady. The rest of the evening I didn't see them much together and once caught her sitting at the table not talking to anyone, yawning. I hope he marries that one.

While BP did not dance with me he sat at the table and watched, laughed at out antics. I won baseball tickets in the raffle due to his gambling. We went home with Mel and her man to build a fire, drink and laugh some more. I changed into sweat pants, to BP's disappointment.

At some point, after SEVERAL glasses of wine, Mel asked BP his intentions. It became very clear he didn't have any so I answered for him. "It's just sex." He laughed, but I gave up. That was all this is and it will soon go away.

Date with Blast From the Past

Following week after having recovered from too much bedroom gymnastics with the Blast from the Past, I went to his house again after cleaning. I would not have sex with him. I would institute my boundaries. If this guy likes me, wants what I want, he will attempt to date me. If not, we go back to that see you every couple year's to make a bad decision in between relationships type of deal. I could live with that.

So we talked, watched some TV, then he tried to make out with me again. It started to get hot and heavy. He started to undress me. I restated my boundaries, he kept pushing. I strengthened my resolve, got dressed and left. It was a friendly parting that resulted in a date two weeks later.

BP came up to my house for the first time.

So, he got here. No plan. Dinner? Drinks? A movie or bowling? What sounds fun? Honestly, what would have been fun was if he had stayed home and I could go back to my sweatpants and brooding. It turned out to be a good night though. Inspiring, really.

Picking out a restaurant was like repeating myself. I eat meat, damn it. Just not beef or pork. Yes, chicken and fish are considered meat. Over Mexican food the conversation was strained for a bit. So I asked what the youngest age girl he ever dated. He looked sheepish, but was honest. Last year, a nineteen year old.

Immediately I fell over clutching my heart. Ouch! What the hell was he thinking? Oh well. So I asked how he liked the conversation with her. He laughed and said it was awful. They had nothing in common, he'd thought she was older, blah blah blah.

Then I got my first ever BP quote: "I've never been the type o date more than two while I'm sleeping with one kinda guy."
I immediately texted it to myself so I wouldn't forget.

He went back to talking about his daughter, how he was debating over a Barbie house of a puppy. I voted for the Barbie house. Less upkeep.

As we ate I asked again what he was looking for in a girl. My standard interview questions.

"I want someone who loves me, loves my daughter, who I have fun with and is happy to see me when I get home." I stared at him a minute.

"It sounds like you do want a puppy." He just laughed and shook his head saying I know what he really means. "Okay... so what are you looking for in a puppy?" He was stumped. I think he got the comparison. When I later told my guys at work about this they were all appalled and felt sorry for any man who braved a date with me.

We ended up bar hopping and drinking too much. I took him over to Mel's, she got on his case about how he should call me rather than text if he was really interested in me.

Back at my house, yes I gave in and had sex.n I was drunk and old and stupid. I thought, maybe it will be better this time... He started out trying to get creative and I just took his face and said "Gentle." And he was. He was so gentle I cried. Not because it was magical, but because I knew I should not be doing this with him. There was no love, no emotion between us. My body was used to that requirement now and it broke my heart so deeply to think I was never going to have it again. He didn't see me cry or know. But it happened all the same.

He slept with his arms around me all night on the wrong side of the bed while I cried silently some more. In the morning he rubbed that tender part of my back and broke my heart again with longing for another man. He left early and didn't ask me stop by his house when I was in CG that night.

I went back to my resolve that nothing can come of this. He may be trying date me CG style: Hooking up and spending down time with a person resulting in a potentially unsatisfying relationship that you endure simply not to be alone.

But I want more.

Blast from the past

Every couple of years I reconnect with a guy who hung around my group of friends in high school. He had always been mean to me, like most of the assholes I grew up with. But at the same time, gave me a ride home from school everyday and made sure I had a ride at parties. The nice gesture was accompanied by his pulling my hair out of a ponytail because it looked better down or yelling at me for being an opinionated bitch or me yelling at him for breaking up with one of my friends.

At nineteen, on New Year's Eve I was drunk. I was thin and cute and was full of myself. Couple lines of coke later I realized I had been abandoned by my ride and there he was again, mocking me but offering a ride. He tried to convince me to come home with him. He didn't mind stopping to get condoms, haha. No thanks, dude. Parked in front of my parents house, all lit up from the still hanging multi-colored Christmas lights he asked again. Ah, what the hell. I went home with him. Remember making out on the floor and fairly aggressive sex, but other than that it was a blur. I woke up the next morning with a New Year's resolution that I was never going to do that again.

When he dropped me back at my parents house he asked for my phone number. I looked at him completely puzzled and asked why... So he could call me, of course. Still, I didn't get it. We were both young and drunk and stupid. It wasn't as if we actually liked each other. And he didn't have to put on this show for me. I get it. One night thing and done. I was good with it. (remember, I was young and dumb.) He called a couple times but I ignored him.

A couple years later we would run into each other at a party or when I went back to CG. He was in a relationship with a chick we'd gone to high school with who had never liked me, so there weren't too many times I heard from him. A message here and there on MySpace, then Facebook that we should grab lunch when he was in my area for work. About 4 years ago he had a daughter, but never married.

Two years ago, at the beginning of The Principal, BP asked if I wanted to get a drink after work to catch up. The Principal and I weren't serious, I wasn't sure we ever would be, and this was an old friend who I had more experience with as a friend than a lover so I didn't think it was a bad move. Just catching up. I even told The Principal about it. He never even asked how it went.

We met at a bar close to my house and had a couple beers. It was very platonic. He told me about his ex and their daughter, his work and life. I told him about my search for a job and the excitement of buying my house. He gave me a hug and I figured I'd see him again in another couple years.

BP asked if I wanted to meet up again about a week later for dinner while he was in town staying at his brother's place. Okay.... I told The Principal again, not that he cared. Again, not so quick on the uptake, I figured this guy doesn't get out much with a busy work schedule and a kid. He didn't show much interest in me last time so we were just old friends hanging out.

Romantic Italian place with a piano really didn't match my Chucks, but I wore a nice sweater I guess. I was getting nervous that I had read him all wrong, but still he was nonchalant about everything. We went to a bar and had a few drinks. I drove him back to his brother's. I parked, reached in the back to get left overs, and he tried to move in. I assumed we were car hugging good night so I laughed and reached over. Then he kissed me.

The nonchalance was gone. He was all going all out with this teenage front seat of the car making out. Inside my head was a war. I had been dating The Principal, but he wasn't acting like I was his girlfriend or calling me or even making out with me like this. Things weren't so serious that I should feel bad about dating another guy. On the other hand, what the hell was I doing with this dude's tongue in my mouth?

He moved into the back of my SUV and hauled me over the seat like a cave man. It shouldn't have been hot, but it was.

There we were, going at it like a couple of hormone induced children in the furry back end of my car. Feeling each other up, biting necks, losing our shirts.... I tried to break the mood by telling him we needed to stop. I am seeing someone else and this really wasn't right. His response was "Then why is your hand on my cock." Oops.

At long last, I got my control together and got him out of my car. I drove away feeling guilty and re-evaluating whether or not I should be dating The Principal. Should have stuck with that plan, I know.

BP kept calling me, talking about what he likes to cook, what he does to entertain his daughter. BP told me about this car show his neighborhood does, complete with BBQ and how I should come over next week for it. I felt like he was interested in me. I started to think I would rather date him than The Principal. Then the communication faded away and The Principal and I escalated.

I figured BP reunited with his baby momma and I went back in the friend bin, which was to be expected. I didn't hear from his until the following Christmas when I was dealing with The Principal and Work Guy. I was just too busy to be his friend again.

Right before Work Guy shattered my soul, BP Facebooked me that we should get a drink sometime. I responded that I have a boyfriend and we'd be more than happy to have a drink with him. It never panned out, obviously.

Weekend of Halloween, I met BP to pick out his costume. He'd lost weight and a bit of his hair, but still a good looking guy. I was a little nervous he would think I was fat... Oh to look like a teenager again! No wrinkles or body at all!

It was a fun outing where he chose a biker costume I picked out. Since he had a few hours before his party we decided to get a drink. I had a Margarita and a few beers which equals drunk Kate as I cannot hold my tequila. but it was platonic and I didn't worry. I drove over to Mel's house afterward and drank much more telling her my dating life story. She was gleeful to finally see me so unreserved.

BP and I texted mundane things. We met for a drink the following weekend when I was in CG. Platonic. Same amount of pointless texting. Platonic. Asked if I wanted to see his new house the following weekend. Sure, this is platonic, right?

I showed up at his house and he had been drinking most of the day (his only day off.) His friend was there too to see the new house. We all chatted easily, then BP stands behind me takes me in his arms and says to his friend "Isn't she beautiful?" Mind you I had just finished cleaning offices and was wearing baggy jeans and a ripped up ASU sweatshirt...

His friend departed soon after and I was left with drunk BP. He told me all about the antiques he'd acquired, how his mom loved decorating his house, how he planned to get a bigger TV. He joked around and said, "Now, when we get married you can do whatever you want with that" or some such drivel. I rolled my eyes. Apparently, at my age men think foreplay includes talking about marriage when that is the furthest thing from their minds.

He went on to say how he would move the current TV into his room. I decided to joke too. I said "Well, when we get married there will be no TV in the bedroom. I don't believe in it." I expected him to laugh like I had. Instead he turned around and pinned me to the wall in a full-tilt lip lock. We kissed passionately for a little while until I broke it up.

Sitting outside I explained what I'm looking for. I don't just want to make out with a guy anymore because it's fun. I'm no long that 19year old girl sitting in front of her parents house and decides to have sex with a guy for the hell of it. I am no longer young and dumb and stupid. i want a man who wants to love me, marry me, travel with me overseas to see all the things I've been too busy to see and eventually have babies with me. He said he was looking for someone who would love him and his daughter, who would be happy to see him when he got home.

Yes, I ended up having freakish circus sex with him. Why do men think they have to put you in every damn position in one bout of intercourse? It is just a waste. I ended up so sore I couldn't walk for days. He also bit my neck so hard I had bruises. Worst of all, he wanted me to stay the night. Sleep with him. Cuddle. Screw that.

I ran away, as I like to do after making bad decisions with men who think sugarcoating it with cuddling makes it all better. Again, I felt like I could wait a few years to see him again. I knew my body couldn't withstand another evening of torturous sex that made me miss my ex's more gentle approach.

The Toy Theory

After 3+ months of being dumped, you’d think that I’d be over it. I would be looking forward to dating again, not at all concerned about the hairy bastard who dumped me. Especially when said hairy bastard feels the need to text me so I’m aware he’s moved on and will be bringing his new girl to the company holiday party. I shouldn’t have wanted to kick his ass, but I did.

I have realized lately that he is still all I think about. When it’s quiet in my house, when I drive past a place we used to go to, when I go to bed, when I wake up, even when I dream. It is like an ongoing conversation in my head that ranges from anger to wistfulness.

I feel like I have been asleep for a very long time, and finally woke up. A year ago I was in Disneyland, celebrating the last year of my twenties but it seems like a decade has passed. At the time I was in a relationship with someone who I loved. Someone who behaved as if I was inconsequential and I broke up with him little over a month later because I believed I would become so if I continued down that path.

There had been the silver lining of Work Guy, who behaved as if I was the light shining out of his darkness. The most blinding light he’d ever seen.

I struggled for months to see what he saw in me, only happy that I still had any pull to draw a man to his knees the way he had. That fairy tale longing that the right man would love me for me and crush me to him seemed to be happening… So I believed in magic. And like most kids, when you finally believe in fairies, you grow up. It all disintegrates. You see what the magic was shrouding and you become disenfranchised with the whole thing.

I have sat heartbroken and cast off for three months. Now, on the eve of my 30th birthday I see the true light. The blinding anticipation of his true love was to make me feel something he wanted. To win. Like a toy cast aside I was no longer interesting. Needed maintenance. Needed work. He won me. I loved him. But the game was over and he needed to move up and out. Any residual feelings I may have only strengthened his victory.

Somehow, knowing that our relationship and epic love was never really heading to forever, that he merely said he wanted to marry me to cast more of the magic, has replaced the confusion and anger with understanding. Work Guy did really feel that he loved me, at some point. Then, it was no longer fun. His idea of magic was getting everything he had dished out for me, no arguments no misunderstandings. Only perfection.

That is not the type of person I want to marry. I do deserve more than a self-absorbed toddler.

Regardless of my epiphany, I think I would rather shove hot pokers up my nose than date again. All that trust shit and believing in someone else... Give me a break. At any given moment that selfish bastard can activate his exit strategy and leave me feeling like a schmuck who allowed goo-goo eyes to get in the way of existing.

Analyzing all the things I should have done, how I should have changed, how he didn’t want me anymore and trying to understand how he could have loved me like he claimed then shut the switch off. Was I really so terrible? Then I switch to the “Toy Theory”.

Work Guy was raised in a very wealthy family. In their basement they had a play room with tons of toys everywhere. But being the little super social butterfly that he is, constantly strayed from home to play with his friends and their toys. When his friends discovered the play room they were mystified. Here, in his very own home, he had stacks of toys, video games, arcade machines, etc. Why would he ever leave? Why wouldn't he have invited them over sooner? Work Guy shrugged, proud of his abandoned toys. They weren’t fun to play with any more. He went in search of other people and toys to play with. (this is a true story)

That is the Toy Theory. I was no longer new and shiny and exciting. There was nothing left to conquer, because I was his, loved him and wanted to be with him. Almost as soon as he felt comfortable in my constitution did he grow distant and I got anxious.

The biggest difference between us is how I value people and he does. It goes back to the toys.

When I was a kid, I felt bad for leaving certain toys out. I made the ones I couldn’t fit in my bed at night their own beds on the floor, toy box, closet, drawers. I wanted everyone to feel equally loved. I worried that some of my older toys would get jealous of the new ones I received on birthdays or Christmas, so I made sure I played with them on their own or incorporated them in the new games. All my toys are still in storage, I can’t bear to give me them away even though I no longer need them….

How does this relate to relationships? Work Guys parents have both been married 3 times. When things don't work, you move on. Like getting a new toy. They probably don't see it that way, otherwise things would be different. I'm sure Work Guy doesn't even realize how transient his feeling for women are. But in my family, we love for life. Regardless of what an asshole someone can be at the time, or even for years. You soldier on, and things work. You don't just replace your toys when they need maintenance.

This theory was designed to make me feel better. Instead it makes me sad. I wasn't fun enough to be played with half as long as some of his other serious girlfriends. I wasn't smart enough to see all the signs in the beginning when he bragged about what a womanizing prick he was. I wasted 8 months on a poser. Oh, the shame...

The Blood Drive

At work, I kept my distance from the douche bag who dumped me. I didn't look in his direction, made sure we no longer emailed. No texting. This guy no longer wanted me. Why continue to torture myself?

The week before Halloween I had gotten my hair done and was making a futile attempt to find a costume for our work party. When the hell did Halloween become the day of All Sluts? Where were all the Dorothy and Snow White costumes that looked like they could have actually been worn in the movies? No, now everything is tits and ass and then some. I needed something work appropriate!

As I approached one store I saw I had a missed call from Work Guy. Why was he calling me? This started a whole train wreck of thought processes. Is he mad at me because all the guys in my row hate him? Did I say something I shouldn't have and it got back to him? Does he miss me? Why, oh why, would he be fucking calling me? So I came up with the one idea that made sense. He mis-dialed. I sent him a text asking if he'd meant to call me. Yes, he just wanted to say hi. But why?

I told him I was out shopping and would call him when I got home. I tried, but he didn't answer. So naturally I proceeded to glare at my phone the rest of the night in vain. We texted on Friday during the Halloween party. I managed to find an Eskimo costume that was cute and, in my opinion, scary. Isn't the scariest thing imaginable living in a constant state of snow?? People didn't get it. Called me a build-a-bear instead. I needn't have worried about the propriety of my costume however, there was a female manager who dressed as a slutty nurse complete with see-through costume exposing a white thong.....

The deal with having a costume in the first place was so I could leave work early. My manager declared all who dressed up got a half day. So as I lay in bed, Work Guy texted me how Eskimos were sexy. I cried again and slowly began to hate him more. He had dressed as Oscar the grouch with see-through trash can. He asked what I would do if he showed up at my door with nothing underneath, the sun shining behind him. I wanted to reply something sexy, have him come over and re-kindle our fire. But I knew it would mean more to me than to him. I would say something stupid, like I love you, I can't live without you. I would have committed unspeakable sexual acts on a Sesame street character. I had to remind myself that he didn't want me. Didn't want me and had dumped me in a text. Had stalked me into dating him with the boldest declarations of love then found me lacking.

I simply texted him back the part where it would mean something different to us both. He agreed, and I swear to God my heart collapsed. He had just been trying to get some post relationship sex because he'd thought it would be easy.

Tuesday at work we were having a blood drive. I signed up and was waiting in the freezing bus for my turn. It doesn't make me nervous, and I have done this before, but for some odd reason I was shaking. As I lay there, pumping my life force into a bag I became detached. My breathing was shallow and my head light. I wanted to cry, every one was really staring at me. Not my sometimes imaginings that people are staring, they actually were. My friend Mel was at my side asking me to breath. In her words, I was "Butt-ass white."

I couldn't sit up, was sweating profusely under just my right armpit (that's the nervous one.) An hour later I was out of the bus and walking drunkenly back into work. I told Mel I would be fine. An hour until I went to the chiropractor then home, she looked doubtful. I sidetracked to the restroom to pee and collect myself. When I came out, Work Guy, his boss and Mel were all staring at me. I waived them off, I'm fine.

In the break room Mel and Work Guy followed me to get water. I was so totally on edge I gritted my teeth and tried to walk straight. Mel told me I should have someone drive me home. Work Guy peered over her shoulder. I ignored him. I do not allow myself to look at him. I walked past him with her trying to ingrain the belief that I would be just fine into both of us, even though I was fairly certain I might faint if I didn't put my ass in my chair soon. She stared at me, pointed over her shoulder and said "I think he wants to talk to you..." Ugh. My day was fast getting worse. I do not allow myself to look at him at work. Speaking is unmentionable.

I went right up to him swayed, and smiled. "Yes?"

"Do you want me to take you home?"

"No thank you. I'm fine."

I turned around and stumbled to my desk. A few minutes later he came to me and set down a bag of peanut M&M's, like he used to get me along with the morning after pill. Such an asshole. And a lemon-lime Gatorade. I drank the beverage and tried to focus on my computer while acutely aware that he was watching me from one side of the room and Mel from the other. Work Guy texted he would follow me home if I needed. Grrr. Why couldn't he disappear? Why had I been so stupid by dating him?

After 15 minutes of trying to type an email I decided it was probably best not to see the chiropractor, cancelled my appointment, and only because I was afraid of passing out consented to allow the "Douche" as Mel calls him, follow me home.

I drove carefully. I really didn't understand how I had gotten this light headed. I drank plenty of water, ate sturdy food for lunch. I had been prepared. As I pulled in to the garage I expected to see the Prius drive by the house and head straight back to work. There was no reason for him to park and come inside. He walked up to me and asked if could come in. He wrapped me in his arms and stroked my back the way he knew made me melt. The first time we had been intimate, he had touched me there so gently I thought I would cry. He rarely repeated that gesture in our relationship.

It was because of that touch I let him in. I was weak, and vulnerable. He let the dogs out while I changed into my sweats. When I came out he hugged me again. I had to press my lips together so hard to keep from saying something stupid. We sat on the couch, me trying look like I felt normal while I really just wanted to crawl into his arms and curl up in a ball. I wanted to lay my head on his chest and play with his hair. I wanted to go home..

He left after only a few minutes, saying my color was better. I didn't get up, for fear of hugging him again and possibly crying. Before he went to the door he reached over the house and patted my arm. Then he reached down again, tenderly put his hands on both sides of my head and kissed my hair. Then he left.

"What the fuck?"

I went to bed. It was only 4pm, but I was so tired and heartbroken the only place which made any sense was the solitude of my room. It didn't last long. Mel came over with beer and yelled at me for crying again over the Douche.

A week later I texted and asked why he had kissed my head. He was worried about me, but didn't want me to get the wrong idea. How sweet. I wish he would have had that notion a year ago when he was filling my head with all his temporary romantic bullshit.

Damn You Internet Dating

In a moment of stupidity I signed up for Match. Actually, it wasn't stupidity, it was defiance.

The night Work Guy shattered my heart I paid $75 to meet a man online. My broken thought process was that I had fallen off a horse, and everyone knows the best remedy for that is to jump on another one. For a couple weeks I browsed. Laughed at the idiotic profiles that said "I want a woman who takes care of herself- does her nails, works out to keep her body nice, gets her hair done.." Men bitching about what they don't want and how they're tired of "games" or "drama" all stated beneath a profile picture of him cropped so close to his face you can see his ex's hair against his shoulder. Loser needs to find a picture where he's not obviously attached to another woman.

After some emails back and forth I gave my number to a guy. He called me, we talked about the general things. Believe it or not he's more into his dog than I am into mine... Seems all we talked about were dogs. He does real estate and sighed mournfully that he gets by, the market has been rough but he hopes to survive it. Eluded to the fact he lost his house and bought a condo. I mentioned I own a house, stay away from all those pesky neighbors who try to talk to you. "Don't you talk to your neighbors now?" I laughed. "No, that's why I bought a house in the first place. They can do their thing and I can do mine." He seemed unable to respond to that. Kept saying "huh."

In order to end the conversation I told him my dinner was ready and vowed never to talk to him again.

A week or two later I told my guy friends at work that I was going on a date with an Internet dude, different one. They were all up in arms about wanting to accompany me. Work Guy seems to stand up a lot at work and was watching us. Jeffy glared at him. As I left for the day, grumbling about how dating sucks because I had to go home, wash my hair and attempt to look pretty.

We met up for a drink. He was witty, nice, fun conversationalist. Unfortunately he had horrible teeth. Not like Hugh Grant, more like someone who had spent too much of his life gnawing on chew. I felt bad, but I was never going to kiss him, so this wasn't going anywhere. He later texted me that my eyes were mesmerizing. More guilt.

Next Internet date, different bar. Again with the freshly washed hair and casually applied makeup. On this one's profile he'd said he was 5'10"... I was in my Uggs, flat on the ground and I towered above him. I proceeded to talking about all of my animals, my mom's, my sisters. i really didn't care. Call me the honey badger.

Conversation via email regarding a 1st date with dude from the Internet:

J: So…..how did it go? Was he cute? Conversation? Connection?

Me: First of all, in his profile he said he was 5’10”. So not true. I was in Uggs and stood taller than him by like two inches. No spark. Ok conversation. I talked about my animals way too much because I really didn’t feel like we had anything to talk about. And they had a special on the giant mugs of beer for $2.99, only issue was my arms are so sore from hot yoga I could barely lift it. It was torture…..

J: So do you think he’ll contact you to go out again? Do you think he was into you? Was he attractive?

Me: I hope not, because then I have to tell him thanks but no thanks. I don’t really know if he was into me.. Told me I looked nice at the end of the evening, so at least I got that out it. He was attractive for a Christmas elf…

Sent to my sister:

Meghan: Ha – so mean :-)

Me: He was really short. And petite. If I hadn’t been so sore from yoga and had more beer I might have asked if I could try to pick him up…

Meghan: literally I suppose

Me: I bet I could have gotten him up over my head.

Seriously, this guy looked like he was barely breaking the 5’5” mark. I had a minimum of 20lbs on him. There would be no need for pepper spray in my future.

Inserts from my guys at work on dating:

“We hear your voice so often sometimes we just need to hear our own.”- Serial Killer in Training on why men like to hear themselves talk.

“If you want to pick up a man, wear that purple dress with the tights and boots when you go grocery shopping.” - Football Junkie

“I could probably do without sex if I had around the clock sports and beer. Yeah, I could do it.”- Serial Killer in Training

“I don’t need a guy to be super tall, he can be my height. I just feel like if I broke my leg hiking or something he should be able to carry me to safety.”- Me

Damn you Internet dating. If you were more like Google I would spend less time searching.

My Old Routine

So, one of the things I loved about being single was the fact that everybody else in the world was getting ready to go out on a Saturday night and I didn't have to. Seriously. Women everywhere were stressing out about what to wear, make-up, hair, would they get laid, heels versus wedge... And I could do whatever I wanted.

This Saturday I was very refreshed. No work on Friday allowed me to decompress. It seemed like eons since I had just enjoyed my coffee with a good book and watched the day float by. Little bit of actual housework helped me feel productive. My friend from work and her boyfriend came to the house in the evening and we laughed all night. It had been ages too, since I felt like I really participated in conversation instead of riding the wave, trying to keep up and always crashing.

So Saturday was pure joy. I slept in, more reading and housework. When dusk settled, I thought "What do I do now?" I had an antsy half moment when I missed Work Guy. Really just wanted to curl up in his arms. But I shook my head like a dog, grinned like the Cheshire and headed to the shower. I was going to do the thing I loved most. Buy books.

This is the plan: Go the Changing Hands to pick up the third and fourth book in the series I started. Walk over to Trader Joes for veggie corn dogs, fruit and hummus. Come home, read one of my new books and dance around the house like a crazy free person. I could hardly contain my excitement.

Plans get fucked up. It is the law.

I walked into Changing Hands, looked around for 13 seconds when a helpful guy asked if he could find what I was looking for. Fiction. Lili St. Crow. He had the audacity to doubt my spelling. He skipped off to find my goods, came back looking less helpful. His shoulders sagged and he had this strange look of dismay.

"We don't have them.. It was in teen fiction." He all but sneered. I gave him my best blank look. I really don't care if it is teen, child, grandma, or fast approaching thirty. Fiction is fiction asshole. "We can order them and have it in by Tuesday.."

"I will just go someplace else. Thanks." Subtitle: I wouldn't buy a book from you, ageist.

I went to Target, their measely selction of books made me want to vomit. I strolled around the store looking at other crap and ran into an old friend. Back in the day when Work Guy was literally harrassing me to date him I made a point of stating my independence. When he asked who I had to cuddle up with at night, keep me warm, I had replied that I had a body pillow and a heating pad. All true. However, when we started sleeping together, he moved the body pillow to the floor and the heating pad was a moot point. Now, here I stood contemplating another body pillow.

I all but skipped out of the store with it.

An hour later I had my book and some hummus and, of course, beer. My evening was tinged with some sadness now, though. I had been relegated back into my old ways because, in truth, I had never really given them up. Part of me knew I would be alone again and therefore didn't feel the need to give in entirely. I had fought for some kind of control. In all honesty, Work Guy had only ever wanted the challenge, the reward. It was not ME he was looking for.

So I cuddled into the warmth of my bed that night and cried.

Return to Me

On Thursday I strolled into work uncharacteristically happy. Normally, I roll out of bed tired, pissed off and late. I had stayed up waaaaay past bedtime talking on the phone with a friend, drinking beer-there was no sensible reason to feel this good. But I had jumped out of bed, thrown my hair up and gotten ready.

At the office I waited. The headache was supposed to come, the clammy hands, waiting for the thunder cloud that usually shows up between 7 and 8 a.m. But there I was, laughing with the guys I sit by. Sing-songing my way through the customers, training a newbie.

The guys all wanted to know what was up with me. I hadn't a clue. I was sleep deprived? It didn't even dampen my mood to see that thunder cloud standing up all day (which normally causes a hunching of the shoulders, leaning as far into my computer as I possible can, and trying to keep my insides from tearing their way out.) Nope, I was feeling fine. Smiling and laughing even.

It could be due to the fact that I was taking Friday off for the hell of it. Freedom was calling. I wouldn't have to see him for three whole blessed days!

When the newbie went to grab lunch my neighbor leaned over to ask if it bothered me to be stared at. He had noticed a couple weeks ago that Work Guy would stand up and look at me from time to time. I thought he'd stopped that. I'd told my neighbor that it made me want to stick my head in an oven.

"He's been doing it all day. Kind of glaring too. Have you guys been talking again?"

"No, I haven't so much as emailed him in two weeks."

"But he does it ALL the time. I guess I just thought maybe you guys had a fight or something."

"You are ruining my blissful day..." he looked appalled. The boys in my corner like the happy me. Doesn't everybody? "I think today is the first time I have felt good since it happened."

Then I told him how I got dumped. His mouth could have caught flies. He looked pissed and pitying. Not the best combo. That's when I deflated. My heart began to hurt again. I wanted to look at Work Guy but I made myself NEVER do that, not even a peek.

"So, if you see him looking over here, please don't tell me. Just waive at him or something. If he knows you see maybe he'll stop." He nodded vigorously.

I went back to work, but I was counting the minutes again until I could leave. My mind, which had been a happy bubble all day began to form a film. The same destructive thoughts reappeared. Why wasn't I good enough. Was he angry at me for being happy, was I supposed to suffer longer? Did he think I was flirting with these fun loving children? Was he talking about me badly? Did he miss me?....... Don't go there, don't go there.

The next two hours crapped by and I was a shell again. The tormenting agony was gone but I wasn't numb.
Maybe if I didn't have to see him 40 hours a week I could start to heal. I needed time to rebuild.. again. As I walked out with my head held high, I vowed I would do just that.

Rolling in the Deep

Some people have told me "Don't shit where you eat." I should have listened. Instead, I dated a guy from work. He chased me down, convinced me we could work despite all my protests. Told me he would do anything for me. Said he was saving money to buy me a ring.

And dumped me in a text message.

Best diet ever. I've already lost five pounds.

Four weeks have passed and I have to see him everyday at work. See his company wide emails. Walk past him on my way to the bathroom. It is a living hell.

Normally, when I have a break-up I look forward. I become numb and analyze all the reasons it didn't work. I don't get this bothered. On this relationship, all I have is sadness. I see the back of his head and want to touch him. I come home and think about how nice it would be to curl up in his arms and kiss him on the shoulder. Listless walking about the house ensues.

This week, he sends me a work email about how well I'm doing in sales. We email like we used to all day. That bitch spark of hope brings the sickness back to my heart and I am being ripped apart by the time I get home. So, I text him. Mistake. It just keeps happening.

This man-child never really loved me. He wanted to be in love. He wanted to win "the girl." He did, but then he was stuck with her. And I wasn't worth it anymore. What he wanted changed. And I am left cold.

So I am left to secretive glances in his direction at work every day. Sharp little knives digging into my chest. How did I get here? Why did I ever believe this person could have been sincere about anything?

I reach out to my sister. Tell her how heartbroken I am. "You just haven't met the right person yet". I try to get the funny out of the situation. "You're such a drama queen." Perhaps, no one can tell when I really am upset. Perhaps, I am speaking another language.

What I need to do is find another job. Never seeing him again, wanting him still, would be like a cool salve to my blistered life.

Post Break-up meeting

After a week of being sick to my stomach over the Work Guy, I had had enough. I decided to email him, seeing as I had already deleted his phone number. This will sound cliché, but that’s how I roll… I needed closure. I needed to know how he could go from falling all over himself for me to a remote electronic message that told me I was no longer of service to him.

So for two days we emailed back and forth. Why was he so cruel, what had I done so wrong to be treated like I would cause a scene? And most of all, even though I shouldn’t, I still love him. I want what we had back. I had the time to think about the things I took too far and should have done better. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t just want to be a better girlfriend and have him back. I wanted him to see that he had areas of opportunity to improve as well.

My emails were long and detailed. His were crisp and to the point. I made it abundantly clear I didn’t think he had ever really cared about me if he could discard me so casually. He didn’t like that. (Somehow I knew he wouldn’t like being told how to fell but I bet a million bucks he doesn’t see the irony in that.)
I even begged. It was not my proudest moment, but I thought if he saw how much I cared he would realize the mistake he was making.

He said we would take two days and then talk about it again. I waited those two days and asked if we were going to meet up or he just wanted to continue emailing. Reluctantly he emailed that he would send me some of his thoughts and if I still wanted to meet he would. Encouraging. I made my peace that this man-child no longer wanted me, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to let him take the cowardly way out of simply writing us off because

I hadn’t satisfied his needs.

No, he was going to have to look me in the eye one last time.

So I drove up to his area and waited at the local Starbucks. I was nervous. I felt alone, sick and sad. But my resolve was there. Even if I am alone for the rest of my life, even if I had done many things wrong in every relationship I have ever had, I am by far not the worst person in the world. It is not crazy for me to feel he left me out. It is not abnormal to get upset and angry with the person you love when they won’t try to see things from your perspective. Most of all, if I am going to be in a relationship it is going to be with someone who will communicate with me about our problems. Someone who will work for it and expects me to work too.
I very calmly addressed his thoughts he’d emailed. I told him what I felt I should have been better at, tried harder at. I believe I am capable of being better. His eyes were faded. He really didn’t care to work at anything.

He was done. I told him what I hadn’t gotten from him, how that made me anxious. How the things I had gotten upset about were valid and did not deserved to be dismissed. I was no longer making a case for why we should work things out now. I was giving him the conversation we should have had in lieu of his abortive text.
It lasted less than an hour and was all even toned. I ended with,

“I realize that you have no desire to make this work,” sad shake of the head from him.
“but I felt like we both needed to sit down and talk about this in order to move on. Remember last year when we first met outside of work? You were talking about breaking up with Target Girl, shooting her an email or texting her?” his eyes got wide, teary looking.

“I told you to go over to her house and tell her how you felt. You had been dating her a month and she deserved that respect.” He sees where this is going and looks even more baleful.

“So, what hurt me the most is that for a week I was so sick to my stomach thinking about how horribly awful I had to have been for you to do that to me. To text me you no longer wanted me, and were doing me a favor because I was getting older and want to have a family.” His eyes are wide with shock now. Like this is a revelation. I am betting at this point he hasn’t shared with a single female how exactly we broke up.

“I didn’t even merit the amount of respect you gave Target Girl. You have no idea how that felt. This is definitely one for the Book.” Shock, disbelief. Yes, you bastard. You made yet another chapter in the Book.

He apologized. We hugged, I cried. And damn it, I really wanted to kiss him. We walked to our cars apart.

There was something lighter about me though. I had gotten my say, aired my sins, and told him in my own way what an immature dick he is. I cranked up Lady Gaga “Bad Romance” and drove home.

Reflecting on the End of Work Guy

Ange saved me. She made me see how I should have never dated this guy in the first place. She had disliked his arrogance. Perhaps this is why I hadn't filled her on much of what was going on lately. Deep down, I knew it was wrong.

I went over to her house and spilled all about the dumping I received from Work Guy. I gave her the details on why I had gotten so upset with him over and over. His reaction was always a defense. A sly manipulation that made me feel like I was over reacting or stupid. How he skirted ever addressing our communication or validating why I would feel left out or embarrassed or annoyed.

I do things wrong in relationships. Everyone does. But I at least tried to talk about it.

I can be silly and childish and impatient and anxious. I won't say I am always mature. But I sure as hell won't say Work Guy is.

After he practically stalked me into dating him, rebuffed my need for space to grow into a healthy relationship he tells me it isn't healthy for me to expect the same level of attention I had grown used to. Acts like he contributes way more to "us" because he overuses the phrase "I love you" and brings me gifts while refusing to acknowledge the defunct communication. Yet during all of that, I should have made him feel more loved. Apparently the only way I could have done that was just never to get upset. Ange said any normal person would have been upset.

Then he TEXTED me to circumnavigate the cold hard fact he is no longer interested in a relationship with me. Makes me feel broken, and stupid. Like I ruined it completely, all by myself. Tries to get me to be the one to end things because the relationship isn't going to result in marriage or children... my clock is ticking so he's doing me a favor. Played on the notion that I am approaching 30, which he knows bothers me. Very effective, hairy man.

I am so lucky this guy only wasted 8 months of my time.

Red Flags I learned from this relationship:
If a guy lays it on that thick- he is full of shit
When someone says "It will be fine" stop them right there and tell them to go to hell
In a conversation about something that upsets you, never let a guy make you feel like you have no right to feel that way. They are your feelings. People are bound to step on one another's toes from time to time. The only way to move past it is to talk.
Go with your gut. When you start questioning, start walking.

Thank you, Work Guy. Not for being a coward and breaking up with me via text or making me need to find a new place of employment or all the flowers or nice places you took me to... but for going away.

The End of Work Guy

What can I say? I crashed and burned again.

Work Guy texted me last and asked if it bothered me that we no longer discussed moving in together. For the past 2 months we have been distant. After that rocky trip to California I cried after a baseball game. I sensed the wrongness of what was going on between us and didn't know how to fix it. He just had this tired look on his face like "Just be happy."

I think what changed was that Work Guy settled into his "relationship mode" and I believed he was tired of me. He started treating me like a novelty instead of me, and I was getting the impression that he was wanting the type of relationship he's had before. Only problem: He didn't like those relationships.

I started becoming his ex, or probably worse. I wonder if she was really as bad as he made her seem or if he created that monster himself.

At the beginning of August an internal job opportunity came around. Out of state. I remembered when we used to talk about the Principal. Work Guy said he would never consider moving while in a relationship with me, or at least not without some serious discussion. Our discussion involved him telling me he wouldn't apply unless the job met his criteria and he didn't think it would. He had a long talk with his uncle about. Within a few days he applied. I was bewildered. What did that mean for us.

I threw a fit. I never wanted to be the girl that said "What about me!" but there was no other way. A year to the month my last boyfriend was in the process of leaving town for a job and I thought Work Guy would be a little more sensitive to how that would make me feel. I'm such an ass.

He said "You knew this was something I wanted to do. We have talked about how I would need a branch manager position to move up and that would most likely involve a move."

As a hypothetical, yes, I understood that. But deep down I also knew this would end our relationship. My only solace was the reassurance he would make me a part of it through discussion.

I said "We haven't discussed it!"

He said "There is nothing really to talk about until I get offered the job. And I probably won't even get it."

I said "So after they offer you the job you want and need to move up in the company we will discuss it? So basically I get the choice of having a long distance relationship, AGAIN, or losing you. Sounds win win to me." What was I supposed to say?

He said "We would work it out. I would only be there a year, year and a half tops. And once I got settled we could talk about moving you out there." De ja fucking voo. I began drinking more beer and staying home by myself. Wrong decision.

I ranted and raved about how terribly appealing that all sounded. He accused me of making him wear the Principal's sins. He knew all about my last relationship, he should know he chose to try those sins on for size.

We nearly broke up. I started to withdraw, again, which is my defense mechanism when I am certain I will get hurt. He asked if I wanted him to withdraw from the application. I didn't want to make him do anything. I just wanted to be involved, have some reassurance that we were actually in this together. I didn't get the reassurance because apparently we were not.

Last weekend we went to Couer d' Alene to visit his grandfather. Work Guy was coming in on a different flight and I had a layover in Boise. After meeting with my cousin, I missed my flight. I couldn't believe this. After our near breakup I was attempting to be a quieter version of me. Just be involved with Work Guy and his life, don't talk about myself. Don't draw attention to my crazy. maybe he'll like me better if I'm.. less.

Well, I threw a fit. I could not control the undulating sobs that racked my body. I called him for reassurance, for help. I needed him so much right at that moment I thought my heart was breaking. He sounded like a distant version of a caring person. I know he wanted to help me, but he just kept asking me what I was going to do. I didn't know what I should do. I really just wanted to lay down on the tarmac and become an airplane pancake.

Each time I called him it got worse and worse. I wanted guidance, he just wanted me to figure it out and tell him what I was doing. My brilliant plan to rent a car was shot down as being to long and dangerous. After 2 hours of bawling and running around the Boise airport I relented, got a hotel room and watched my phone for trickling of texts. My outburst of emotion was terrible. I felt like a fool. But all I really had wanted was to have him hug me and tell me everything would be ok. He went out to the bar with his cousin and texted me briefly.

I wanted to be held. I am stupid for thinking it is ok to request this. I am stupid to think because he was sweet, tender and understanding 3 months ago he would just want to hump me now. I told him such. Ooops. Forgot not to be me.

There was an incident involving ribs. While dinner was being prepared, Work Guy casually mentions that he and I will run into town to get something I will eat. I became uncomfortable. His grandma gave me a skeptical look. Here I was a guest in this house and refusing to eat their food. His grandpa assured me I could whip something up from last nights turkey. Work Guy shrugged and got himself a drink. Leaving me alone in a million dollar kitchen with his grandma.

I gingerly poked around, not that I mind making my own food, but having to ask a stranger in their kitchen where everything is can be kind of stressful. I threw some leftovers in a pan with spices, olive oil, and salad dressing. Grandma told me it didn't look very good and asked if I cook that stuff for Work Guy. No, I don't cook often. I have issues with cooking which was making this even more fun.

I thought I was going to cry, wondering why I am such a freaking crybaby all the time with this guy. Why do I always feel on the fringes of doing something wrong? Why can't I just whip something up and banter happily with his family? Why does it take me so long to warm up to people? What is wrong with me?

The next day we had fun jet skiing, even though Work Guy was distant. He doesn't like me, he doesn't like me, he doesn't like me. Why did he ever like me? How am I supposed to act?

We stopped for some drinks at a picnic bar (only the rich). He shared a story about his ex. Once his mom had gone out to get dinner. She brought home a bunch of pork salads for everyone and mixed them all together. Then, when she realized his girlfriend didn't eat lettuce, it tasted watery and strange, his mom proceeded to pick the lettuce out for her. His girlfriend was so embarrassed and mad at him for putting her in that position.

I stared at him. This story was meant to make me feel better, I think. Because his ex's dislike of foods is stranger than mine. I pointed out how embarrassing it was for me to go about eating something different and could relate to his ex. I don't think he liked that. To him it wasn't a big deal. Probably because it did not directly affect him, therefore should not bother anyone else. I'm sure his ex would not have been angry with him had he been able to empathize.

Later at a different dinner, I was having a great conversation with his grandpa, whose personality is much like my father's. The topic of road trips came about and Work Guy immediately complained about how many bathroom stops I needed. Yes, I pee a lot. He knows this and thank you for sharing. But the look on his face and tone changed. This was not playful teasing, he was actually irritated. I tried to make it banter, tease him for shopping around in the stores we stopped at. But I was still getting the dirty look. My skin crawled. Does he hate me because I have to go to the bathroom frequently? This may seem extreme, but he had never looked at me this way or talked about me in such a disapproving manner.

Anyway. So last night I ask where he is going with this not talking about moving in together stuff. Still in text. Trying to be light. Hopeful because he is opening up. I didn't think we'd be moving in together anytime soon. There were things to work on, but I wanted it to work with him. Without further ado, the man who said he wanted to marry me, had been saving for a ring, said he loved me more than anyone he had ever known, told me he no longer felt as strongly and couldn't see a long term relationship with me anymore. He wanted to be open about this because I want to have children (someday). Lots of little things, he just doesn't think we are compatible. He was ok dating me in the short term if that was what I wanted.

Who wants to be with someone who doesn't really want to be with them? Not me. The ironic part is that I was the one in the beginning who thought we weren't compatible, and he pushed. I was the one who warned him that I would someday want to get married and have kids and I didn't think that was something he wanted. I was wary because I feared he would not be as excited by me when the chase was over and he had me. Then I let go and embraced him.

I know I write all the bad stuff in here, because that's what gets the blood boiling. But I genuinely loved Work Guy. When he stopped putting on a show for people he was very sensitive, sweet, caring and smart. He became my best friend. Then he decided we weren't compatible. He didn't want to work on things because he had already made up his mind that we wouldn't work.

I am so sick and sad and angry. I have the cliche "Can't eat or sleep or stop crying and shaking." All I can think is that he lied to me about the way he felt, or lied to himself so he could get the goal. I wish I had never met him. I wish I had been different, done things better. I regret the 10 pounds I gained back after painfully loosing them last year.

Going in to work was dreadful. I knew he would be there. He brought me coffee, I jumped, muttered thank you, and couldn't keep myself from crying. I know he saw, even though he tried not to look at me directly. After half the day was over I told my boss I was ill with allergies and needed to go home. Where I forced some food in me so I would not puke. Where I cannot sleep. Where I sobbed uncontrollably because this man made me feel like the biggest loser in the entire fucking world.

I wondered who he has lined up next.

When we were friends I had the perfect girl pegged for him:
Cute, bubbly.
Hobbies:
Working out all the time so she can look good in designer jeans
Cocktails with the girls at posh places
Perfect hair and nails, always
Intelligent, but can play it down
Content being a girlfriend, not an individual

I thought he needed someone who could depend on him to make her feel good, which he would know he is responsible for, and in turn she would make it her mission to please him, which is what he feels he deserves for being such a good guy for her. I don't think he would see this as co-dependent. Where as I just wanted to be myself, and be loved. Have him be himself, and love him.

It is over, and I am heartbroken.
Now I am off to Ange's house to watch he dye her roots, her medicine for the hole in my chest.

Memories...

I'm not sure why, but I didn't learn how to ride a bike until I was nine. I had a scooter, roller skates, and managed just fine. But when I was nine I was forced to conquer a bike. Everyone else was doing it.

We had a couple rickety Schwinn's, too big for me, that I learned on. Battling black widows in the shed to pull them out was definitely not a motivator. But I learned.

From 9-12 I rode, fell down, rode and fell down more. As a 12th birthday present I got a ten-speed. Granted, I knew nothing of all the different "speeds" you could go other than peddle, pump, and slide. It became a joke, my falling down. This was also when wearing a helmet was a rarity and made you a sissy, even to adults.

So, one spring day I was riding home from school, just after a crosswalk and back on the sidewalk that I fell. Hard. For no apparent reason to my knowledge. I fell off the bike, into the street and slid along the blacktop into traffic. My arms were pinned underneath me, dragging my wrists across the blacktop. When I was no longer moving I noticed people were stopped in their cars staring at me. I stood, picked up the bike and started limping home. Halfway I decided it was too painful to walk so slowly and rode the rest of the way.

I took stock of the damage. Huge gash in the left knee with pebbles sticking out. Both of my wrists looked like someone had put out a cigar in exactly the same place. Above my right temple, road rash. (Hair still refuses to grow there.) Another big gash through my right eyebrow. (No hair there either.) And a big right shoulder burn.

Clothes came off and bubbled bath ensued. I was sitting there in the tub, as I liked to do in childhood, contemplating why I was such a bad biker. The bathroom door flew open and my neighbor (babysitter and surrogate grandma) looked me over. This sounds odd but to her I was still a baby.

"What the hell happened to you!" She yelled in her British voice.

"I fell off my bike. Again."

"You need to stop riding that fucking thing."

"Yes. Yes I do."

"Alright. Well, come over after you're cleaned up and I'll make you a ginger ale."

I threw the bike in the dumpster. My sister later retrieved it, brought it to college and had it stolen. I told her I was glad it would hurt the thief.




This weekend I went to Newport with Work Guy. We have been quite the trip buddies and having a good time. However, this was weird. On the way to his parents I mildly suggest we drive by the ocean. Last time we were there we just stayed around the harbor and I love the waves. He looked at me like I didn't comprehend.

"Umm, the beach is way over there.."

"No, I just meant when we get closer to your dad's. Maybe we could just drive by." I mean, I know the area. My sister went to school at UCI and I would drive over to the beach all the time.

"Oh, yeah maybe we can get close enough." Where was the guy who used to always go way out of his way. Now a 5 minute detour was improbable. He made more excuses. When did he start to find me stupid?


First night we get in and he is busy with his family and stays away from me. If I go outside, he goes in and such. Here we were in the kitchen as his step-mom is preparing steak and worrying over what I will eat and he walks away to leave me stuttering "I can have salad!"

I was really trying. I went to the store with her to get chicken, talked to everyone and was feeling pretty solid in my effort to be social. He was just moving around. I don't need to be anxious or uncomfortable. Then, as I'm eating, after everyone else is done, he asks if it's "ok to go out on the boat with his dad." I stared up at him and said mockingly "No, you cannot leave me." Why was he asking for permission in front of all these people? I didn't want to be left alone to make small talk but I have no choice.


It was strained and weird. Something is going on with us. I think he has tired of my novelty quirks and just wants me to be comfortable with whatever he wants to do.

In the morning, after graciously telling his step-mom I don't eat Canadian bacon, I suggested we get kayaks and paddle around. Work Guy looks at me like I'm a lunatic. He does not want to do that.

After some coffee, we went for a walk on the beach. In the parking lot I called my sister to coordinate our schedules. I had to see her while I was there. I've seen more of his family than my own. She was suggesting we stay with her, I said Work Guy is allergic to cats. He gave me a dirty look, very uncommon and serious, and told me he has allergy medicine. Then she suggested seeing Harry Potter. I told Work Guy and he looked like he would rather be dipped in tar. He's never seen a Harry Potter or read the books nor does he enjoy such works. Unlike me. The novelty girl.

I told Meghan he didn't like it. He gave me another scathing look. I was overwhelmed with the feeling that I would rather be completely alone in this world than have to endure another look. Meghan suggested we ride the train up to LA, to avoid all the traffic. Work Guy doesn't like trains, we can drive. If I had any money and wasn't worried about losing my house, I would take a fucking train to LA, spend the remainder of the weekend with my sister and fly home to live out the rest of my life as a spinster.



On the way to the beach Work Guy talked to his uncle about going to the OC Fair that night. Apparently we would ride bikes there. He knows about my disability with bikes. But I reminded him again.


"It will be fine. We'll figure it out."

A little while later he brings up the bikes again. Dude. I suggested we rent bikes and see how it goes before attempting to ride one to opening day at the fair. Again, he says we'll figure something out.

After a silent walk on the beach where I felt peacefully alone, we headed back to the house to take the boat out on the harbor. On the boat I tried to talk about my renewed interest in writing. I love California, have always wanted to live there and maybe if I can sell a book and make a little money I can make that happen. Normally when we have these discussions they get involved with how's and whys. He seemed too tired to talk about my pipe dreams. So we talked about his. Lapsed into silence and further attempts to talk.

We pulled in to a restaurant for lunch and I asked why it was so awkward. Is he sick of me? He had the same fears, was acting the same way as me because of the tension. We laughed it off, hugged kissed and things felt a little better. After packing up and heading to his uncle's house, he brought up the bikes again. I was really going to have to do this....

I was given a rusty beach cruiser and assured I would be fine. "It's just like riding a bike." Ha. I got on and went forward. I can see why Californians are all about the outdoors. It's cool outside even in the summer and everywhere you ride it's beautiful. I started to feel pretty good about myself. Maybe I should get a bike at home. Use it to go to the market, down the canal with Kelly or Ange...

Up ahead the aunt and uncle turn at a street with heavy traffic. Very little room to turn. Could I make it? I became so nervous I hit the breaks, tried to hop off and slid. My left hand had a small gash and my hip hurt. But more so, I felt like a fucking fool. The tears welled up and made me even more ashamed. Work Guy pulled up next to me and I stared after the family members, praying they wouldn't turn around. I smiled and tried to stop the tears. I could make it. I could keep going. It will be all right. They came back and I laughed it off. Just the traffic made me nervous. Turns out it was like 3 miles to the fair, through traffic. Work Guy said we should just go back and get the car. I ruined everything and looked like an ass all because I am a 29 year old defect who can't ride a bike.

Peddling back I cried. The family stayed ahead, probably because it was obvious I was being a cry baby. Work Guy apologized. I wanted him to stop talking to me. If he didn't shut up I wouldn't be able to stop and the family would think I was even more pathetic. All I could think was, I told him I didn't want to ride a bike. No that I couldn't ride a bike, and he pressured me to do it. He didn't want to kayak or go to the beach or ride a train or see Harry Potter and he has bad allergies. I didn't pressure him.

Everyone joked after I cleaned up my hand and we drove to the fair. I told my last bike accident story to the aunt and she was aghast they made me get on a bike. I was such a problem. No beef or pork, no bikes. I was determined to be good natured and enjoy the fair. My hip was going to have a hell of a bruise.

I may hate bikes but I love roller coasters. The faster the ride, the better. Apparently that is a no, no with Work Guy. I went on 2 with the aunt and 1 with Work Guy. We walked around. He apologized more, but refused to be put out of his comfort zone to go on a ride. He won me a stuffed dog instead, which was very nice. I left it at the uncle's house.

I was determined to put this bike accident behind me, forgive Work Guy and move forward. The next morning I woke up early and jumped in the shower. We were supposed to be doing breakfast with his uncle and two little kids before meeting up with the rest of the family at the beach. As I was soaping up I felt proud of myself for getting out of bed at a decent hour and being prepared for whatever today was throwing at me.

Work Guy came into the bathroom and asked how long I was going to take. How long?! I have been in the shower exactly 5 minutes! Well, the kids are hungry and his uncle can't stall them for long... Why am I even here? Obviously I am in the way. If he wanted a weekend with his family then he should have said so and I would stay home. I like my home. No one ever makes me feel like I don't belong there.

"Just go to breakfast then."

"Well, I mean we can wait for a while.."

"I just got in the shower. I won't be ready for a while. It's fine."

"We'll bring you something back." Oh great. I hope its steak and eggs or a sausage sandwich.

A few minutes later he comes back to tell me that his uncle gave the kids some raisins to hold them off. I was feeling more and more anxious by the minute. Now I was allowed to go if I hurried. And I was still in the shower. Tears came. I told him again just to go. I wasn't going to be the bitchy girlfriend who made young children starve so she could apply makeup. Besides, they have to be starving if he's coming into the bathroom while I am soaking wet to tell me. How hard is it to say "Uncle, she just got in the shower. Feed the kids now and we'll pick something up on the way to the beach." Or something. When is it right to just leave your girlfriend at some foreign house while you go off?

I cried for a while and finished my shower. Makeup wasn't easy with tears. At least the family dog loved me. Two hours later they returned. Work Guy gave me a coffee and a turkey bacon and egg sandwich that I ate in pieces while tearfully telling him I felt left out. What was he supposed to do? The kids were hungry. I am a bad person for putting myself above little children with rumbling tummies. How can I justify how bad it made me feel? So I cried again, and the awkwardness returned.

We went to the beach and I was on little kid patrol. Ah, I was here for my uterus. The fact that I won't allow little kids to drown and want them to have a good time makes me a perfect companion. While I got sand shoved into my hand wound and dirty harbor water soaked into me all for following around a toddler, Work Guy stayed clean on the beach and looked down his nose at me. There was no "You're so great with my cousins." or "Thank you for pitching in while my aunt's away." No, it was expected because I am a girl and while I may not wake up completely showered and made up and can therefore be left behind if the occasion calls for it, I must also babysit.

We stopped on the way to my sister's house to grab food. It was awkward and I received the bored look. I thought to myself silently that I was one day away from going home. I love my sister, and was excited to see her. In our family we take what others like/need into account. I knew she was cleaning fiendishly to help reduce the cat hair for Work Guy's comfort. She wouldn't force him to go see Harry Potter. In fact they went out of their ways to make him feel at home. My brother-in-law pouring Guinness expertly every time Work Guy went dry.

We went back to AZ the next day. All was quiet. I was happy to get home and be alone. A bruise the size of my hand formed on my hip and under my knee. My hand got infected from all the sand. Work Guy never asked if I was ok.

Text Fight

Technology. I tell you it is ruining American's lives and saving ugly lamps. In the past, you had to fight face to face, or at least over the telephone. Nowadays you can just send a text message and throw your phone in your purse. Instant last word. Because if you refuse to continue the conversation by reading the response, you have, essentially, gotten the last word.

However, you will see irrate women all over dig viciously in their purses after hearing a tiny beep. They claw at their key boards or tap in a heated staccato on the touch screen. They drop open their handbags and shove that fucker to the bottom in hopes that will keep the next beep from surfacing. The wild look in their eyes confuses clerks at gas stations, tellers at the bank and co-workers. You think they would get it. I'm sure they text fight too.

After ditching Work Guy the night before, my failed attempt at socializing in a small group still giving me heart burn, I received no text until late afternoon. "How's your day?" Grrr...

I was still trying to analyze why I was so upset. Was I being ridiculous? I felt like I had some pretty valid points so I responded "Good, how's your day?"

"Fine. Played basketball. I missed you last night, and more this morning. I'm sorry if I annoyed you. Did you (or do you) just need a little space?" It went on from there.

That opening was like saying "Go ahead and tell me what bothered you." So I did. He rebuffed, apologized, wanted to know what the bigger deal was. It went back and forth for hours while I cleaned offices. I slammed that poor phone in my purse so many times.. It's a good thing I pay extra for insurance.

I told him I couldn't go to California with him for Easter. I knew he wouldn't be happy but my mom was bitching about purging the house of anything that reminded her of my father, and guess who gets to be in charge of that? Rather than spend an excruiatingly long short weekend repeating the Couple's night, only times ten and with his family, I should just stay home and take care of my own stuff. Plus, I had been stressing about getting home in time to clean that Sunday.

He revolted. Told me how sad he was that I didn't want to go. Did I say I didn't want to go? No! I said I couldn't go, I had other responsibilities to take care of and the whole cleaning thing! It was a solid excuse. He offered to help with my other responsibilities, help me clean or pay my mom's friend to clean for me...

Finally, my hysteria leaked through the written word and he said we should talk about it over the phone later. Did that mean I was winning? I let him have the last word, because somehow, I knew my silence was stronger.

When I got home from cleaning I read for a little while, wanting to calm my nerves. I really didn't want to have a talk with anyone about how bad I am in social situations. We made small talk before getting to the fight.

Why do people feel like they have to go over verbally what they already texted? I hate repition. But there he went, saying how sorry he was for grabbing my boobs when I've told him I don't like it, regardless if he's joking or not. He apologized, I told him that was nice. I'm sure he would apologize the next time he did it because that seemed to be the pattern. Grab boobs, don't do that, I'm sorry. Wash, rinse, repeat.

It just made me start getting mad again. So I took the stance I had with the social security conversation the night before. If you tell people who think they are right that they are in fact right they will shut the fuck up.

"It will be ok. I will get over it. I will go to California with you, meet all your family and have a good time." Insert smile. That was what he said he wanted, so that was what he would get.

"But you said you're going to be anxious, I don't want you to be anxious. I want you to have fun and be yourself. They're going to love you, I want them to get to know you so they see why I love you so much." Very sweet.

"Well, being myself means that I will be anxious. But I will go to California, meet your family and have fun." Insert a much, much more forced smile. He can't see me but one of my jobs had a training titled Smile! Customers can hear it! and I have always lived by that motto.

"I want you to tell me if you're anxious.."

"Oh, don't worry. I won't tell you if I'm anxious. I'll have fun, we'll have fun." I'm smiling really hard now. Annunciating clearly so he'll finally get it.

"But I want you to tell me if you're anxious. I want to help you." Good God. Please shoot me now. You don't want me to be anxious, but you want me to be myself? This will get us nowhere. I told you what you wanted to hear! I smiled like a pageant queen so you could hear it.

"No, I will not tell you. If this is what it feels like to be open then I would rather not tell you things are bothering me. You're making me feel like a nutcase, " granted I'm pretty sure I am a nutcase but I don't believe people should drive the point home, "and I told you we will go and have fun." The smile is causing my eyes to water.

I remember being 16, super depressed, in Iowa. My sister and I were surrounded by family members. My grandmother's evil eyes laughing as she made backhanded compliments. I would run to the safety of my room and hide, nervous tears screwing up my mascara. I couldn't explain it, or handle it. Instead of talking to me like I was a nutcase, my sister went to the drugstore and got me some over the counter stress reliever. Placebo effect, I'm sure, but what helped more than the drug was that my sister loved me for who I was. Imperfection wasn't going to make her think I was less strong.

This memory made me start crying. I miss my sister. I miss my mother, even though she lives disconcertingly close, but she isn't the same. I don't think she cares anymore. I think I am her sister-in-law rather than her daughter. I miss my father, who I will never see again and never give me the excuse to blame him for stressing me out. But most of all I miss my sister.

I cried quietly, while he talked about openess, blah, blah, helping me through the anxiety with a code word, commit me now, taking walks so I could calm down, wow he really does think I'm a psycho, blah, blah blah.

I just need him not to point out that I need the time to breathe. I just need him not to tease me when I get tongue tied or overwhelmed. I just need him to drop me off at my sisters house and leave me there until he is done with his family get together. Is that so much to ask?

I nodded and agreed. Not to any code word. Not to anything in particular. I just wanted to tell him he was right so he would shut the fuck up and I could ask my friends if they have any Xanax for my upcoming long holiday weekend with my honey.

Yes, That was sarcastic. And Yes. I realize I am a nutcase who would be better off never dating and raising many furry cats.