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Do you ever get the feeling there is a word, or sentence, or a paragraph sitting on the edge of your tongue waiting to jump? It can't simply fall, because that would be natural. Gravity forcing the weightiness behind your word to take the plunge. A force of nature all its own compelling the conversation as if from destiny's own shove. No, my words always have to jump. My will behind them, carving my own path. My words are eager to commit their own verbal suicide because my mind refuses to hold on to them any longer. Jump, and find out what lays beyond...
Some days, I can resist a little bit.
I am excited by the prospect of a new beginning with my most recent Match.com guy. I will call him Scotty, due to the fact he's first generation American from Scottish parents. I will feel free to change the before mentioned name at any time he presents something more apt to call him by.
Even though I really want to see him, a new concept for me, I am waiting until our next date. Even though the perilous words at the tip of my tongue are there, hopping up and down to do a swan dive out into the ether.... "Why don't we get together for some frozen yogurt tonight instead of waiting until tomorrow?" But that would be unnatural for me. Too forward. Implying something more, right?
I have let loose a few texts about how into Scotty I am without being a complete sap. We have only been out once. It would be asinine to insinuate I am looking forward to weekend hikes or watching movies cuddled up on a couch. Did 30 fry my brain? Have I had a stroke? I do not think like this and I am going to ruin everything if I don't keep these little cliff-hanger words in their place.
At the evil place of work, I was so bored I turned on Facebook and was rewarded with an IM from BP. We messaged back and forth a couple weeks ago and I wondered if he suddenly got bored with whatever distraction that had made him forget about me. It was benign. Yet still hours later, at home, those words laced with question marks were marching around my mouth eager to kamikaze into space.
Why did BP just stop pursuing me? What had I done wrong (besides sleep with him)?
Sitting here on my patio, staring at my phone while waiting for Scotty to call me after his run, I was possessed with the need to know why BP still IM'd me, acting like nothing ever happened. And I began the slow decent:
Me: Hey there
BP: New phone. No contacts. Help me out here. (This was exactly what I use when I delete someone from my phone, am contacted again by them, and don't want to text that)
Me: Ha. Kate
BP: New phone yesterday. No idea how to swap contacts. What's up.
Me: Technology is a tricky thing. Just thought I'd say hi. (At this point, the words are receding back into my throat toward the hollow place in my stomach)
BP. Well hello. What are you up to?
I say I'm doing the usual, he says he's hanging out with friends. I say have fun.
BP: You should come down and have a drink with me. (Interpretation: Since you are lonely enough to contact me, drive 30 minutes to my house to have uncomfortable sex)
Me: It's a little late. (Interpretation: Gee thanks for thinking of me. Ass.)
He insists it is not late, I insist that it is. Maybe some other time, but thanks for the invite.
BP: You look too deep into things. Wasn't looking for anything crazy.
Me: I didn't think that you were. (If by not crazy you mean I could drive all the way down to have a couple of beers, be contorted into freakish positions while you had your way at my body- I won't even say with because somehow I always managed to feel conspicuously absent- and then have the option of driving home very late at night or very early in the morning)
BP: So I'll be sitting home alone, and so will you. Shame.
Me: Such is life. We get used to it eventually, right? (Meaning: It hasn't bothered you before.)
More texts about how we need to live a little, he's all for spur of the moment.
Me: Is that why you're always out doing wild and crazy things?
BP: I don't do much. I just jump at opportunities.
Me: Ah, so jumping at the opportunity to have someone drive 30 minutes to keep you company? (Sounds like you're more trying to take advantage) Btw, didn't you get a puppy?
BP: I'd drive 30 minutes to keep you company if needed. (Was that all it would have taken? Because there were several months where I could've used the company) Puppy has been put on hold.
Me: How come? The puppy I mean
BP: Haven't found the right one
And I found that the perfect place to stop responding to him. I'm sure he will never realize the perfect alignment of his half-assed hook-up attempt and the fact that it has taken him 5 months to commit to a puppy he promised his daughter for Christmas. Maybe he doesn't feel the reason those words are dying to escape from his mouth. Maybe he doesn't see that he doesn't want anyone or anything for companionship when he can just take advantage of certain opportunites. Just like he didn't see how ridiculous he looked, or sounded, when he was kissing me all over saying "What are you worried about, Kate? That I won't call you in the morning?" then faded away into nothing.
And I never had to ask why he just stopped seeing me. It no longer mattered. The words that had been so eager to be spoken, had their questions answered.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
What I Want
I want someone who will be monogamous and nice to his mother. And I want someone who likes musicals, but knows to just shut his mouth when I’m watching “Lost.” And I want someone who thinks being really into cars is lame, and strip clubs are gross. I want someone who will actually empty the dishwasher instead of just taking out forks as needed - like I do. I want someone with clean hands and feet and beefy forearms, like a damned Disney prince. And I want him to genuinely like me. Even when I’m old. And that’s what I want.
- Liz Lemon, 30 Rock
This is what I want. Someone who will love me even when I look like an Irish potato farmer after hot yoga. Who doesn't mind the fact that I want to wear sweats to the grocery store or expect me to look like a Victoria's Secret model when I go to bed and understands that just poking me in the back with his "thing" does not make me get all hot and bothered.
I want someone who thinks about me as much as I think about them. Loves my crooked teeth and white skin. Who I can call to say "I miss you" but not be obligated to spend every waking hour together. I want someone to snuggle, hug, kiss and do dirty things to when the mood strikes but doesn't need me to wash his clothes. Someone who likes to do yard work, can hold a conversation without having to check his phone or Sports Center, and wants to call me when he hears a stupid joke.
It really isn't a lot to ask.
- Liz Lemon, 30 Rock
This is what I want. Someone who will love me even when I look like an Irish potato farmer after hot yoga. Who doesn't mind the fact that I want to wear sweats to the grocery store or expect me to look like a Victoria's Secret model when I go to bed and understands that just poking me in the back with his "thing" does not make me get all hot and bothered.
I want someone who thinks about me as much as I think about them. Loves my crooked teeth and white skin. Who I can call to say "I miss you" but not be obligated to spend every waking hour together. I want someone to snuggle, hug, kiss and do dirty things to when the mood strikes but doesn't need me to wash his clothes. Someone who likes to do yard work, can hold a conversation without having to check his phone or Sports Center, and wants to call me when he hears a stupid joke.
It really isn't a lot to ask.
I'm Back!
Ok, so again I conveniently forgot to cancel my Match.com membership. Auto-pay is a bitch in any industry apparently. That being said, I started scanning again, still uninterested in the prospect of any man but feeling like I should put myself out there just in case. But let's get real... This is never going to happen.
New guy winks at me, sends me an email asking if we should start right off with a 20 questions game. He's pretty funny so I bite. I mean, I'm not doing anything else right now and this might be a welcome distraction from doing other things like fixing my pool, doing yard work or cleaning the house. The email-palooza begins! I shoot him 5 questions, he comes back with answers and questions, I respond with answers to my own questions, his questions, more questions! It is highly entertaining! I am laughing! What the hell is going on here?
It seems like eventually, but is really only after about two days, he sent me his phone number. Our emails turn to texts. He's funny, smart, quick witted, and best of all he thinks I am the same. After a particularly crappy day at work, the one where Work Guy's Girlfriend comes in to make a domestic appearance and I spill tea all over myself, I went home to drown my sorrows in beer. New Match Guy is texting me like crazy and after about 4 bottles I think "Why the hell doesn't he just call me?" So I call him.
He was laughing when he answered the phone, knowing full well I was having a beer night. We talked for two hours, me being hilariously witty (or at least thinking I am) and he egging me on. We have a very similar sense of humor, which is scary. He recently took in a cat his co-worker couldn't keep any more, didn't think I was strange for keeping a zoo. His dating history is like reading the cliff notes of mine: With one person for 5 years, living together, separating. Took time off, dated another for a few months. Didn't work. Dated another for almost a year, crazy.
All of our conversation was great, text and phone, that I was beginning to think there would be no way I could be attracted to this individual if I ever actually met him. We agreed to meet up for a couple drinks Saturday afternoon. He had plans to meet a friend downtown at 7pm, which gave us both an excuse to bow out at a reasonable hour. I was intrigued to see if this was fabricated or not.
We met at a bar around the corner from my place at 4pm, or in my case 4:12pm. I was glad I'd warned him I am habitually late to every function on earth. He found it hilarious that I was honest. Parked at a booth, I could better evaluate this potential suitor. Taller than me in my platforms, has all of his hair in a receding fashion most men in their mid-30's have without losing the thickness. Gap between his front bottom teeth that is slightly annoying. Eyes remind me of the Principal, round, smiling, crinkling up when he thinks he's been funny. Arms were toned but not obnoxiously. I found him quite attractive.
The world must be about to end because I find him attractive, fun, disarming, comfortable, and easy to talk to. Sitting there sipping my Stella, talking about how my dog once ate 5lbs of dog food and proceeded to shit and puke for 12 hours and he was still looking at me like I was fascinating. None of this is making any sense. He grabs my hand across the table from time to time just to touch me...
His friend bailed on their 7pm plans. I was dying to ask if there had really been any plans or if it was his escape hatch, but I kept my mouth shut and thought "I'll just ask him after we're dating for a while." What the WHAT? Where had this thought surfaced from? I barely know this dude!
Another crazy connection between us= he lives next door to the very condo I had lived in with the EX before moving to my house. He moved in a year after I left, knows all my old neighbors and haunts the same down-the-street bars I used to meet Ange, Kelly and Markie at. He smoked up until December when he took up running and quit cold turkey, but understands the fact that I can't quit until I decide to quit.
So that takes us out to a mostly deserted patio where I have a couple of cigarettes and we continue to jammer away at each other. I'm telling some story, this guy is looking at me really intently. He has the "I'm going to kiss you look" on his face and my mind hops into overdrive. With eyes darting back and forth, anywhere but forward, this is what shoots through my head while I'm telling him some pointless story about God knows what:
-Is he seriously going to kiss me?
-This is the middle of a first date/meet-up, is it acceptable to kiss on the first date without implying you're easy?
-What if he's a bad kisser?
-What if he kisses away the pound of make-up I applied and realizes I'm not attractive?
-Does his wanting to kiss me so early make him a lech?
-Do I want him to kiss me?
-Should I lean away and start into my new-found belief system that I need to take things slow?
-Should I judo chop him in the head?
-Should I tell him he's looking at me funny?
-Would telling him that he's looking at me funny just make him jump into action more quickly or would it turn him off the idea completely?
-Why had Insurance Guy said he wanted to kiss me but never looked at me with even a semblance of this expression after saying how interested he was?
-What am I doing here?
-I'm kind of hungry....
-Could we get food?
-Would suggesting food be too forward? I mean he is paying for the drinks and all...
But then he stood up to go to the bathroom, leaned over and kissed me. Right there. It wasn't tentative or demanding, just like a statement. Here, I want to kiss you and I am. To my utter astonishment, I kissed him back. It was more than nice.
For the next hour or so we continued to talk, hold hands (yes that still icks me out quite a bit), and kissing. It felt normal, like a routine I have enjoyed with this stranger for a long time. I declared it was 9pm and time to go so he walked me to my car, which I had unconsciously parked next to his. I would like to say we kissed, hugged and parted with a sigh, but alas.... I made out with him like a crazy hormonal teenager.
Up against the side of my car, bodies entwined, kissing fervently, nipping at necks, ears, arms. Laughing, joking. I realized this was the first time I was actually turned on to a person rather than the action since last having my heart plopped in a blender. It was dizziness coupled with warning. Stop here. You're getting very close to the New Year Resolution you made not to make any what the hell decisions.... This is a first date with an Internet dude. Keep. It. In. Your. Pants.
So, as we are intimately wrapped in each other's arms, probably to the horror of all bar patrons passing by, I tell him. I will not be jumping into bed with someone I am not emotionally intimate with first. He laughs, pulling my face up to look at him which horrifies me as I am fairly certain my makeup has dissolved. But he makes me meet his eye. He doesn't mind waiting a month or a year, as long as it isn't forever.
Damn men, they know how to work it. This made me just want him more. But I extricated myself from his grasp with more kisses, got into my car and headed home.
New guy winks at me, sends me an email asking if we should start right off with a 20 questions game. He's pretty funny so I bite. I mean, I'm not doing anything else right now and this might be a welcome distraction from doing other things like fixing my pool, doing yard work or cleaning the house. The email-palooza begins! I shoot him 5 questions, he comes back with answers and questions, I respond with answers to my own questions, his questions, more questions! It is highly entertaining! I am laughing! What the hell is going on here?
It seems like eventually, but is really only after about two days, he sent me his phone number. Our emails turn to texts. He's funny, smart, quick witted, and best of all he thinks I am the same. After a particularly crappy day at work, the one where Work Guy's Girlfriend comes in to make a domestic appearance and I spill tea all over myself, I went home to drown my sorrows in beer. New Match Guy is texting me like crazy and after about 4 bottles I think "Why the hell doesn't he just call me?" So I call him.
He was laughing when he answered the phone, knowing full well I was having a beer night. We talked for two hours, me being hilariously witty (or at least thinking I am) and he egging me on. We have a very similar sense of humor, which is scary. He recently took in a cat his co-worker couldn't keep any more, didn't think I was strange for keeping a zoo. His dating history is like reading the cliff notes of mine: With one person for 5 years, living together, separating. Took time off, dated another for a few months. Didn't work. Dated another for almost a year, crazy.
All of our conversation was great, text and phone, that I was beginning to think there would be no way I could be attracted to this individual if I ever actually met him. We agreed to meet up for a couple drinks Saturday afternoon. He had plans to meet a friend downtown at 7pm, which gave us both an excuse to bow out at a reasonable hour. I was intrigued to see if this was fabricated or not.
We met at a bar around the corner from my place at 4pm, or in my case 4:12pm. I was glad I'd warned him I am habitually late to every function on earth. He found it hilarious that I was honest. Parked at a booth, I could better evaluate this potential suitor. Taller than me in my platforms, has all of his hair in a receding fashion most men in their mid-30's have without losing the thickness. Gap between his front bottom teeth that is slightly annoying. Eyes remind me of the Principal, round, smiling, crinkling up when he thinks he's been funny. Arms were toned but not obnoxiously. I found him quite attractive.
The world must be about to end because I find him attractive, fun, disarming, comfortable, and easy to talk to. Sitting there sipping my Stella, talking about how my dog once ate 5lbs of dog food and proceeded to shit and puke for 12 hours and he was still looking at me like I was fascinating. None of this is making any sense. He grabs my hand across the table from time to time just to touch me...
His friend bailed on their 7pm plans. I was dying to ask if there had really been any plans or if it was his escape hatch, but I kept my mouth shut and thought "I'll just ask him after we're dating for a while." What the WHAT? Where had this thought surfaced from? I barely know this dude!
Another crazy connection between us= he lives next door to the very condo I had lived in with the EX before moving to my house. He moved in a year after I left, knows all my old neighbors and haunts the same down-the-street bars I used to meet Ange, Kelly and Markie at. He smoked up until December when he took up running and quit cold turkey, but understands the fact that I can't quit until I decide to quit.
So that takes us out to a mostly deserted patio where I have a couple of cigarettes and we continue to jammer away at each other. I'm telling some story, this guy is looking at me really intently. He has the "I'm going to kiss you look" on his face and my mind hops into overdrive. With eyes darting back and forth, anywhere but forward, this is what shoots through my head while I'm telling him some pointless story about God knows what:
-Is he seriously going to kiss me?
-This is the middle of a first date/meet-up, is it acceptable to kiss on the first date without implying you're easy?
-What if he's a bad kisser?
-What if he kisses away the pound of make-up I applied and realizes I'm not attractive?
-Does his wanting to kiss me so early make him a lech?
-Do I want him to kiss me?
-Should I lean away and start into my new-found belief system that I need to take things slow?
-Should I judo chop him in the head?
-Should I tell him he's looking at me funny?
-Would telling him that he's looking at me funny just make him jump into action more quickly or would it turn him off the idea completely?
-Why had Insurance Guy said he wanted to kiss me but never looked at me with even a semblance of this expression after saying how interested he was?
-What am I doing here?
-I'm kind of hungry....
-Could we get food?
-Would suggesting food be too forward? I mean he is paying for the drinks and all...
But then he stood up to go to the bathroom, leaned over and kissed me. Right there. It wasn't tentative or demanding, just like a statement. Here, I want to kiss you and I am. To my utter astonishment, I kissed him back. It was more than nice.
For the next hour or so we continued to talk, hold hands (yes that still icks me out quite a bit), and kissing. It felt normal, like a routine I have enjoyed with this stranger for a long time. I declared it was 9pm and time to go so he walked me to my car, which I had unconsciously parked next to his. I would like to say we kissed, hugged and parted with a sigh, but alas.... I made out with him like a crazy hormonal teenager.
Up against the side of my car, bodies entwined, kissing fervently, nipping at necks, ears, arms. Laughing, joking. I realized this was the first time I was actually turned on to a person rather than the action since last having my heart plopped in a blender. It was dizziness coupled with warning. Stop here. You're getting very close to the New Year Resolution you made not to make any what the hell decisions.... This is a first date with an Internet dude. Keep. It. In. Your. Pants.
So, as we are intimately wrapped in each other's arms, probably to the horror of all bar patrons passing by, I tell him. I will not be jumping into bed with someone I am not emotionally intimate with first. He laughs, pulling my face up to look at him which horrifies me as I am fairly certain my makeup has dissolved. But he makes me meet his eye. He doesn't mind waiting a month or a year, as long as it isn't forever.
Damn men, they know how to work it. This made me just want him more. But I extricated myself from his grasp with more kisses, got into my car and headed home.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
One of those days
You ever have one of those days when you wake up and you just know you should stay in bed? Well, today was one of those.
I woke up and thought, "I should email my boss and tell him him I'll work Friday in lieu of today and promptly go back to sleep." But no, I told myself I would rather be off on Friday. I can hold out, be strong, blah-blah-blah.
I'm trying to wash my hair less to make it all healthy, with this dry shampoo stuff it doesn't look half bad. I put it in a ponytail as it is day three and all, and off to work I went after noticing that the Barbie who highlighted my hair missed toning a piece by my ear leaving a blonde streak. Never trust a Barbie.
Everything was going fine until one of Work Guy's friends, standing on the other side of my cube addresses a short dark haired girl who does not work with us. Instantly I knew. It was the new girlfriend. At my work. Here to see my ex, her current boyfriend. She was right in front of me. Now friends with the people I used to be friends with. Probably meeting up to eat at the same sushi place he used to take me....
My whole body froze but I typed diligently at my computer. I would not look around. I would not acknowledge that I realized who she was or who she was here to see. Why? Why did he have to have her come into work? Does she not have a cell phone he could call her on to meet outside?
My stomach was in knots and I was fairly certain my stupid heart was breaking all over again. This is karma biting me in the ass all over again for having been such an awful girlfriend to every guy I ever dated. I was going to vomit.
I texted Ange. My lifeline.
Me: I think I am having a heart attack. Work Guy had his new girlfriend come visit him at work.
Ange: Quit working at that fuckin place and I am going to fuckin strangle him.
I asked the girl sitting next to me to do a recon to make sure they left so I could go to the break room to make my lunch. It would be my luck that the royal douche bag would invite her to eat lunch with him here. She was great too...
"Who? That ugly bitch he brought to the Christmas Party?"
"She isn't ugly!"
"God, you're a nice person. You're always supposed to say they're ugly!"
But it wasn't Work Guy's new girl's fault. It was mine for ever having dated him. I continued to feel like shit through out the day. I emailed Chloe about the new Match.com guy I was texting with and mentioned feeling low about something I didn't want to write. She knew already and had hoped I hadn't seen. She agreed with Ange, I need to work elsewhere if I am ever going to heal this gaping hole.
The day gets better!
As I started to calm down I thought some warm tea would help.
I managed to spill an entire cup of tea into my lap, down the back side of my leg, through my boots and all over my desk. In front of regional managers. And just in case they might not have noticed, I yelled out "Shit!" as well. One rushed to get paper towels to sop up my desk, but ignored the fact I needed more to clean myself. I sat there soaking for 30 minutes, afraid to move.
Chloe finally came over to walk behind me to the bathroom so people wouldn't notice my wet pants. She told me it wasn't noticeable, but my jeans and boots worked wonders for my ass. Such good friends today.
What is wrong with me! Seriously. When you get the feeling you should not go to work, stay in bed. If you don't heed this warning it will only lead to a beer drinking pity-party in lieu of yoga later.
I woke up and thought, "I should email my boss and tell him him I'll work Friday in lieu of today and promptly go back to sleep." But no, I told myself I would rather be off on Friday. I can hold out, be strong, blah-blah-blah.
I'm trying to wash my hair less to make it all healthy, with this dry shampoo stuff it doesn't look half bad. I put it in a ponytail as it is day three and all, and off to work I went after noticing that the Barbie who highlighted my hair missed toning a piece by my ear leaving a blonde streak. Never trust a Barbie.
Everything was going fine until one of Work Guy's friends, standing on the other side of my cube addresses a short dark haired girl who does not work with us. Instantly I knew. It was the new girlfriend. At my work. Here to see my ex, her current boyfriend. She was right in front of me. Now friends with the people I used to be friends with. Probably meeting up to eat at the same sushi place he used to take me....
My whole body froze but I typed diligently at my computer. I would not look around. I would not acknowledge that I realized who she was or who she was here to see. Why? Why did he have to have her come into work? Does she not have a cell phone he could call her on to meet outside?
My stomach was in knots and I was fairly certain my stupid heart was breaking all over again. This is karma biting me in the ass all over again for having been such an awful girlfriend to every guy I ever dated. I was going to vomit.
I texted Ange. My lifeline.
Me: I think I am having a heart attack. Work Guy had his new girlfriend come visit him at work.
Ange: Quit working at that fuckin place and I am going to fuckin strangle him.
I asked the girl sitting next to me to do a recon to make sure they left so I could go to the break room to make my lunch. It would be my luck that the royal douche bag would invite her to eat lunch with him here. She was great too...
"Who? That ugly bitch he brought to the Christmas Party?"
"She isn't ugly!"
"God, you're a nice person. You're always supposed to say they're ugly!"
But it wasn't Work Guy's new girl's fault. It was mine for ever having dated him. I continued to feel like shit through out the day. I emailed Chloe about the new Match.com guy I was texting with and mentioned feeling low about something I didn't want to write. She knew already and had hoped I hadn't seen. She agreed with Ange, I need to work elsewhere if I am ever going to heal this gaping hole.
The day gets better!
As I started to calm down I thought some warm tea would help.
I managed to spill an entire cup of tea into my lap, down the back side of my leg, through my boots and all over my desk. In front of regional managers. And just in case they might not have noticed, I yelled out "Shit!" as well. One rushed to get paper towels to sop up my desk, but ignored the fact I needed more to clean myself. I sat there soaking for 30 minutes, afraid to move.
Chloe finally came over to walk behind me to the bathroom so people wouldn't notice my wet pants. She told me it wasn't noticeable, but my jeans and boots worked wonders for my ass. Such good friends today.
What is wrong with me! Seriously. When you get the feeling you should not go to work, stay in bed. If you don't heed this warning it will only lead to a beer drinking pity-party in lieu of yoga later.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Little to report
I am boring. No dating. Baby tries to entice me but after a three week no see, I'm sure he's bored. Match.com provides hat wearing fathers.
Called the EX a few nights ago. Was rubbing Cutter's belly and wanted to talk to him. Realized after he didn't answer that we've been broken up four years now. He lives in Colorado. Last time I talked to him was to tell him the cat died and he wasn't pleased to hear from me.
Learned that work guy encouraged work to hire a hostess he hit on. She's 20 and blonde. Sits two rows over.
This, my friends, is what we call a rut.
Called the EX a few nights ago. Was rubbing Cutter's belly and wanted to talk to him. Realized after he didn't answer that we've been broken up four years now. He lives in Colorado. Last time I talked to him was to tell him the cat died and he wasn't pleased to hear from me.
Learned that work guy encouraged work to hire a hostess he hit on. She's 20 and blonde. Sits two rows over.
This, my friends, is what we call a rut.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Quiet Life
The last text I received from Insurance Guy was on Friday before Easter. Five days later, I got one asking if I thought we should continue seeing each other. This guy is very nice, but there is nothing there. He likes to talk about TV shows and barely kissed me. I rambled to keep our conversations going. Nice guy, but obviously not a match despite the fact we met on Match.com.
His response to my text that we really didn't have a connection was that he felt the same, was disappointed but wished me well. It was the most clean cut, easy dissolution of going out I have ever experienced. Finally! There are normal people in the world! Maybe I'm getting closer.
On the other hand... Maybe not.
The Baby is still texting me despite my very pointed insistence we will not date and I do not just want to Cougar about.
Sitting on my patio typing I hear a ping and discover he's IM-ing me via Facebook. For a startled moment I check to see sticker in front of my computer camera is in place. I always fear they can see me when IM pops up. Is it like Skype? I don't know what it is...
So, I'm going back and forth with pointless computer style texting with the Baby when Ange calls. When she starts questioning about the constant beeping I tell her Jacob is Facebooking me. She dissolves into giggles followed by snarky remarks on his intentions for my virtue.
Jacob IM's that he sent me a pic. He wants me to send a pic. I tell Ange and she starts all over again. But really? If you're on my Facebook just look at those pictures! Why do I have to send you one taken now when I'm in my pjs, hair all tangled and no make-up? Get real.
He says he's texted me a pic of himself he took earlier in the day. I put Ange on speaker so I can open the text. There he is. The pic is taken in the bathroom mirror, another sign of his age. He's holding up his phone, smirking. TOPLESS.
Me: and you're topless
Jacob: shirtless. you don't like it?
Me: I like it, but still, you're topless.
Jacob: ;-)
Ange is screaming in laughter so I forward it to her. I feel a little dishonest doing this but hey, don't send a topless pic of yourself to someone you are not legally bound to unless you don't mind having it shared. Those are the rules. That is why I have never sent a nudey pic to anyone, ever. Plus, I really don't believe anyone needs to see that from in the light of day. Pictures are just so lasting.
Ange is uncontrollable, she wants to forward the pic to her mother but can't figure out how. She's as technologically defunct as I am, apparently.
Jacob is asking to hang out every day. You would think he would get tired and find a new toy. I haven't seen him in two weeks, and don't plan on changing that any time soon.
Me: still don't understand why we are communicating like this if we aren't going to date
J: i don't see the harm in it
Me: of course you don't
J: why do you say that?
Me: only because we already talked about it and you didn't mind. nothing bad
J: is it
ok with you?
ok with you?
Me: i think you're very nice, but yeah it does kind of other me. i really do want to meet someone to have a relationship with, not just play around anymore
J: i completely understand. Is it ok that we play around till you find that?
Me: please define play around
i'm inclined to think it is not such a good idea though
J: it shouldn't mean that you shouldn't have some fun
i think of playing around as in enjoying each other's company whether that be out for a drink, hanging at home
Me: like being friends?
J: that, perhaps more at times as long as both parties are willing but yea. i def want to be friends
Me: the thing that electronic communication lacks the most is the ability to roll eyes at the first half of that response :-). I would like to be friends with you too, but perhaps the flirty stuff better go away seeing as we both want different things.
J: haha
kk
I concede to your terms :)txt me.
gtg do taxes :/
But he still texts. Offers to go to yoga with me even though he isn't flexible. Like I would ever allow a hot guy to see me sweat 85,000 gallons of water in a tight fitting outfit while contorting in strange uncomfortable positions. That is what the bedroom is for. With the lights OFF.
He's even Facebooking me right now, like he knew I was on and writing about our correspondence. Bleep, there he is. Telling me about his night. Interjecting how he'd rather have hung out with me. Well, sorry Baby. Saturday is book, beer, pizza, sweats night. Sacred.
Bleep, he was at a club last night. Didn't dance for fear he would embarrass himself. Bleep, plus he was thinking of me.
Me: Is there an eye rolling icon? I really must research this.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Still
This weekend was Easter. My sister and brother-in-law flew into town late Thursday and stayed for the whole weekend. Pressuring me to bake cookies and such. It was lovely. My stomach is now a balloon.
The perfection of the weekend was overshadowed by the memory of last year when I was with Work Guy off in the opulent California meeting his family, riding in a dingy gazing at mansions. Someplace I desperately didn't feel I belonged. I couldn't help but think as I was driving home with my family Thursday night how last year I'd been in Newport on the side of the house making love listening to water lap in the bay. Getting scared that a boat would see us, running inside to take up where we left off. Or Sunday as I was cleaning offices, how uncomfortable I felt at the expensive country club watching heiresses trot around in sunhats with their metro sexual cohorts in lavender linen suits, only later to go back to the hotel and be taken passionately against a wall. Surely, history was repeating itself for him. Only with someone else. I'm sure he wasn't remembering.
Meanwhile, I sat on the patio texting the baby in front of my sister. He was bummed because it was overcast and he had really wanted to lay out to improve his tan. Meghan snorted.
I told her I wasn't really interested in him. Oh, flattered and elated someone was interested. But he wasn't really interested in me.
Funny how it all sometimes comes together. I fell in love with Work Guy, because he genuinely acted like he loved me. With all my imperfections he could look at me and take my breath away. I still wonder if I had fucked it all up by being scared, or if he simply didn't have the capacity to wait. If love was so permanent to me and transitory for him. Not that it matters, but as far as moving on I suppose it might.
I have also thought a lot about The Principal lately. Missing the little things which had led me to love him. There is always that if.... If I had been more patient or demanding or.... But that would not have changed the fact that he wanted me to fit in his life. Not partner in mine.
This weekend I saw a family friend who tried to date me a couple years ago, right before I met The Principal. Our families have been friends for years, my sister even dated his brother in high school. While his eyes were the same he kept his distance. He wanted to date me a month before he was leaving the country, spending his time between Idaho and South America with a month of Arizona in between. I had been connected to him, enchanted a little bit. He didn't understand why I would be concerned with his leaving. He would always come back and I could come to visit. Ha. I told him no. Then missed him desperately when he'd left. When he returned, he looked down his nose at me for dating The Principal. Now he communicates with my sister and treats me like a stranger.
BP Facebooked me today. I really need to get rid of the evil social network. "How are you? What have you been up to?" Go fuck yourself.
So, what is the recipe for love? Does it have to be easy? Do you just meet the right person and click? Or are some people just better off alone? I need to stop with the romance novels. They make you think the one you love will be willing to give up more than they would ever ask of you, and you would do so in return.
The perfection of the weekend was overshadowed by the memory of last year when I was with Work Guy off in the opulent California meeting his family, riding in a dingy gazing at mansions. Someplace I desperately didn't feel I belonged. I couldn't help but think as I was driving home with my family Thursday night how last year I'd been in Newport on the side of the house making love listening to water lap in the bay. Getting scared that a boat would see us, running inside to take up where we left off. Or Sunday as I was cleaning offices, how uncomfortable I felt at the expensive country club watching heiresses trot around in sunhats with their metro sexual cohorts in lavender linen suits, only later to go back to the hotel and be taken passionately against a wall. Surely, history was repeating itself for him. Only with someone else. I'm sure he wasn't remembering.
Meanwhile, I sat on the patio texting the baby in front of my sister. He was bummed because it was overcast and he had really wanted to lay out to improve his tan. Meghan snorted.
I told her I wasn't really interested in him. Oh, flattered and elated someone was interested. But he wasn't really interested in me.
Funny how it all sometimes comes together. I fell in love with Work Guy, because he genuinely acted like he loved me. With all my imperfections he could look at me and take my breath away. I still wonder if I had fucked it all up by being scared, or if he simply didn't have the capacity to wait. If love was so permanent to me and transitory for him. Not that it matters, but as far as moving on I suppose it might.
I have also thought a lot about The Principal lately. Missing the little things which had led me to love him. There is always that if.... If I had been more patient or demanding or.... But that would not have changed the fact that he wanted me to fit in his life. Not partner in mine.
This weekend I saw a family friend who tried to date me a couple years ago, right before I met The Principal. Our families have been friends for years, my sister even dated his brother in high school. While his eyes were the same he kept his distance. He wanted to date me a month before he was leaving the country, spending his time between Idaho and South America with a month of Arizona in between. I had been connected to him, enchanted a little bit. He didn't understand why I would be concerned with his leaving. He would always come back and I could come to visit. Ha. I told him no. Then missed him desperately when he'd left. When he returned, he looked down his nose at me for dating The Principal. Now he communicates with my sister and treats me like a stranger.
BP Facebooked me today. I really need to get rid of the evil social network. "How are you? What have you been up to?" Go fuck yourself.
So, what is the recipe for love? Does it have to be easy? Do you just meet the right person and click? Or are some people just better off alone? I need to stop with the romance novels. They make you think the one you love will be willing to give up more than they would ever ask of you, and you would do so in return.
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