- Must be able to make me laugh.
- Passionate about something/has some drive.
- Good job/career.
- Low key/easy going but still knows how to have fun.
- Likes to do stuff/make plans (or goes along with my plans).
- Has a little edge (reformed bad boys welcome)
- People person - I can bring him out with my friends/fam and not worry about him.
March 31, 2009
March 29, 2009
A conclusion has been made, and only after two hours of conversation with my closest friend, (aka my soul twin). Together we pushed, pulled, and trudged through our twisted psyches and a verdict was reached alas. Considering I've been dating for fifteen plus years, two hours ain't half bad. It is not uncommon that as her and I talk things out, one or both of us experience some sort of revelation. In fact, rarely does this fail to occur. Last night definite headway was made. It's like free therapy. Seriously.
The precursor to the convo was a toxic ex trying to claw his way back into my friend's life, (for the fourth time), and her illogical contemplation of it. Also, my simultaneous developing revelations that begged to be shared with a kindred spirit.
It hit me one day while driving, (as thoughts usually do), that I have never been in a relationship with a guy who treated me well. I've dated guys who have treated me well for periods of time, sure. Done nice things for me, yes. But I never kept these guys around for long. I jokingly refer to it as my three month itch. No matter how much I may be into someone in the beginning, how I feel after three months is the ultimate test. The make or break. The ones that make it, the ones I really get involved with, have been the ones who ultimately treated me badly. So I got to thinking about why this is. Why have I never been with someone who was good to me? Consistently good to me. Well, it hasn't happened by chance.
I realized that I've never allowed myself to be in a relationship where a man treated me well. I have let these men treat me poorly; welcomed it and went back countless times for more. Assholes don't just find me, I find them. Everyone meets them. The assholes. Most people discard them. Me? Well, I welcome them, allow them to pull up a chair, make themselves at home, and stay for a bit. In some cases, years. This may not be a conscious choice, but it is still a choice that I myself make. I'm not unlucky while the other girls are lucky to meet the guys that treat them well. I meet the nice guys too I just send them packing for some reason. Usually the reason is that something is missing, there's no connection, or there's not enough physical attraction. What's actually missing? The asshole factor.
I know what you're thinking, we're those girls who like assholes. It's not that cut and dry and it's not something we enjoy. It is so much more then that. Let me attempt to explain.
I'm sure you've heard the saying, "True love is the soul's recognition of it's counterpart in another" (I'm not talking love in all cases but you get the idea). Well that's just what we're dealing with. We recognize in them something that is also in us. We're assholes. Oh yes, we ourselves are proud owners of the asshole factor. We fuck up. A lot. We hurt people, we do things wrong. Some people are straight and narrow, we are not. Some people make normal mistakes, we make epic ones. We have a past speckled with indiscretions and the threat of more in the future, (though I think I'm growing out of it). I refer back to the quote I entered in a post just days ago, and am surprised I didn't realize it then:
"I pair up with these male versions of myself so that I don't have to acknowledge my own fear of making a serious commitment."
So while we're with these guys who wear their asshole status on their sleeves, we feel safe. Yes, it's twisted I agree. The one thing we can count on is that they will mess up. They will hurt us. Then, when we do the same, we won't feel as badly. But the nice guy? The good guy who treats us well? Oh God if we were to hurt him, we couldn't live with ourselves. We don't want to hurt them. We're still assholes and they deserve nice girls.
Armed with this recognition of myself and my part in this matter, I feel so much better. Admitting is the first step, right? Knowing is half the battle, is it not? I realize that the reason guys treat me badly is directly related to my choices (poor as they may be). I have control. I have the power to change this. I may have been saying I want a nice guy, but I don't. Even though I say I'm sick of guys, and wonder why I can't just find a guy like "this" or a guy like "that," I'm making my bed. Voluntarily, though not incredibly consciously (until now). It is valid, I'm sick of guys but what I'm sick of is guys with the asshole factor. I need to check myself.
I had mentioned that I'm raising my standards, and I am. All of these factors are in conjunction with one another and all of them will work together to help me grow out of this stage of my life with guys and be happy, with someone. Because until the asshole factor within myself dies, I won't be ready to take on the nice guy. Here's hoping it jumps off a cliff some time soon.
March 28, 2009
I went to get my nails done today. It's been so long since I've done that. I get that the economy is in the crapper and now is the time I should be cutting out this type of frivolous spending but that $30 has made me feel fabulous. I'm a nail-biter and try as I might, I can't get these stubs to grow before they're attacked. It wasn't until Thursday at work when a co-worker told me he was surprised I didn't have long nails; that I look like the type that would have longer nails. My other co-worker (and friend so it's okay) chimed in with, "Yea, not mechanic hands." Well that sealed the deal. Time to visit the salon. It's the end of winter, hands are dry, cuticles disgusting, it was warranted.
I then went to the grocery store and stocked up on lots of healthy, fresh foods. Salmon filets, fruits, veggies, and the yummy avocado you see pictured (aka my addiction).
So despite the rain I'm going to take the pup for a walk before putting in a load of laundry, drinking some tea, and then scanning my closet for tonight's outfit. I have two new tops that have yet to be worn out so it shouldn't be tough. Tonight the plan is simply to go out with a girlfriend, maybe two or three. I'm feeling good about it.
Netflix movie of the week is Secret Life of Bees so I plan on spending my Sunday relaxing and watching that.
All of the above may sound incredibly lame and boring but they bring this girl pure bliss. It's the little things.
p.s. I'm consciously choosing to not mention the negative things that continue to try to jump into the forefront of my brain while I continue to push them to the back:
-I would have love to do/have done all of the above things with someone. I am slightly lonely and ready for a plus one.
-Yesterday was The Ex's sister's wedding. I wasn't there. She was (and I'm not referring to his sister). The reception was right across the street from where I live.
-I'm pretty sure the adult crush has got to be moving out this weekend. He said he needed to be out by the 31st (Tues). I haven't heard from him and refuse to call him but can't stop thinking about the fact that this could be it.
p.p.s (I never know if it's supposed to be p.p.s or p.s.s) I did not and will not be calling the fireman to "explain" myself. I thought about it. There's nothing I hate more than someone having an incorrect view regarding me. Although I'm not interested in him, I did not however say that he didn't try hard enough. Everyone around us (his friends and mine) go on record having said that and for some reason it was put into my mouth. Insert bad guy. Moi. But, I decided that letting it go would serve me much better. For one, the more I think about it the more pissed I am that he thinks I actually owe him an explanation, and two, calling him and discussing it would force me to have to be honest, therefore only fanning the he-said she-said fire. Subject closed.
March 27, 2009
In the meantime, remind me to add "tech savvy" to my future boyfriend list (which apparently I've just started). Now that I think about it, a future boyfriend characteristic list is not a bad idea considering I've decided today that I am officially raising my standards.
So as I add characteristics to my FBL (future boyfriend list), I'll update the list totally random-like. Oooh, nothing I like more than a new list!
- tech savvy (not a must, but def a plus)
Begin tangent: I failed to note that on Saturday 3/14 I ran into the fireman downtown at a bar while partaking in some St. Paddy festivity celebrating. This was the first time I'd seen him since my last courtesy phone call regarding the health of his grandmother, and my decision to leave well enough alone; that I'd done enough in the ending of all of this. (See 3/1 post). I saw him from afar and immediately attempted the duck and hide. I went off to the ladies room so of course as I'm leaving the restroom and heading back to my people who should I unavoidably pass? The fireman. To be blunt, he was a dick. Clearly his ego had experienced some major bruising because he tried to act like he was too good to say hello or chat. When people do that to me, I kill them with kindness. Those people want you to be a bitch to them so that they can go around and say you're a bitch while armed with validation. If you're nice it just makes them feel worse about the fact that a great person rejected them and they still can't have you. So that's just what I did. I made sure I said hello. He tried to act as if he didn't see me, then that he didn't have time to talk, and I'm pretty sure he even tried to be nasty but didn't have the balls to follow through. All of this not only made me feel better about not seeing him anymore, but cleared up any guilt I may have felt for ending it or the need to supply any additional closure to the situation. Done and done. Dickhead. I later heard he went home with a random girl and did the walk of shame back to his car without even saying goodbye to said girl. Oh the small benefits of him being friends with my friends' boyfriend. End tangent.
So needless to say, I was irritated that he called me at such an inconsiderate hour and then proceeded to leave me a lengthy voicemail so that I was awoken minutes later by the message alert. But back to sleep I went.
This morning after I got out of the shower I listened to the message. Basically, he was demanding an explanation (yes, he actually said he wanted an explanation) for the fact that although I told him I did not want to see him anymore because something was missing between us, he heard that I had said that I didn't think he tried hard enough. Wait, really?!? So let me get this straight...it has been weeks since you acted like a dick when I saw you in public and even weeks before that when I actually ended it with you, but you're still going to proceed to call me at 2am demanding explanations as to why it ended? You heard this little fact? You're almost 30 years old. I learned to stop paying attention to he-said, she-said in middle school. OMFG.
He went on to say how he would've treated me "like a woman" (as opposed to?) and he cares about me and really wanted to be with me, but wants an explanation as to why I said this. Oh, and he hopes I'm doing well.
He followed up this retarded voicemail with a text this morning that read:
Douchebag: I'm sorry about the late call last night. I have no excuse for that.
Oh yes you do, you're a dick.
Note to self: Never again date a guy who is friends with a friend's boyfriend. This only ends with gossip and someone trying to make you out to be the bad guy. Clearly, someone wants me to be the bad guy in this situation when it is obvious that he simply failed. Deal with it. Move on. I owe you nothing.
It's official, the aftermath of this "thing" has lasted longer than the actual dating did.
And now that I have successfully vented, I'm moving on to enjoy this lovely Friday.
March 24, 2009
This is for the people that care too much. The people who want too much, and at the same time want nothing at all. At least we want to want that. We want to walk away, we want to say no, we want to forget everything, and we want to be detached and not care.
Unfortunately, we can’t walk away. We say yes, and we remember every single little fucking detail, more clearly, and more vividly than when it happened. We are attached.
And we couldn’t care more.
Other quotes that are speaking to me today:
Welcome to my brain, Wendy.
“You have the idea that you should be mating for life, but that is not what you really want. You aren’t dealing with the fact that you don’t want more, or you wouldn’t have been with these guys to begin with. When you really want something more, you will have it. In the meantime, please be less hard on yourself, and try to enjoy it.”
-I copied this from a book I was reading, but failed to note the author. My bad.
p.s. Just in case you're missing the connection between the photo and title, these are my comfort foods. Mmmm.
March 22, 2009
Why not throw some salt in that wound? Hey, lets extend the rehabilitation process of our last meeting by a few weeks. Why not? Oh and hey, bring your camera so you can document it all and pour over it later when you're really in the throws of feeling miserable for yourself. Atta girl.
As always I had so much fun with him and the time spent was too short. Again he asked me to come in at the end and again I said no. Again he asked me to stay with him and again I said no out loud while inside I was screaming yes.
Though I wouldn't wish this feeling on my worst enemy, it is comforting to know that one of my close friends is also experiencing an adult crush. Or waves an old one, whatever, I'm not picky. The symptoms are equally deadly. She had this to say:
"I guess some people just get under our skin and stay there. But God, what I wouldn't give to make those butterflies go away."
Amen to that.
I'm finding comfort in the notion that I'll no longer feel the pathetic urge to break my neck looking out my window when I hear an engine sounding similar to his fast, obnoxious sports car. Hopefully my stomach will stop dropping each time I see orange cars driving around the neighborhood. Every time I see a freaking orange taxi (because lucky for me we have those around these parts believe it or not), my stomach immediately reaches my feet. I am a pathetic excuse for a grown woman.
I'm pretty sure my drunken mind will still default to him. He will be who I want to dial and text. I'll still be reminded of him for no reason that makes any sense, and I'll still think of him. But I'm hoping (gosh I'm saying hoping a lot), that these things will no longer be magnified for days/weeks after I see him because I won't be seeing him.
Needless to say, I saw him yesterday for the first time in over a month. Oh hi, welcome back tongue-tied, gooey-legged, twelve-year-old girl self. I don't understand what it is. I can't figure it out and possibly that is the very reason that it plagues me so.
Oh, but it felt so good to hug him and I could tell the feeling was mutual as he continued to ask for more hugs, each time holding me closer and longer. He lifted me up even. He lingered. He didn't want me to go after the reason for the meet up was complete. He tried to keep the conversation going. Sometimes I think he's just like me in that he makes a conscious effort to act as if he doesn't care, as if he isn't into me. Other times I think I don't matter to him at all. And each time I feel those two polar opposite feelings, I feel them to be intensely true.
He asked me if I'd missed him. He asked me if I would stay with him one last night before he left. He drives me nuts. (And he literally just drove by as I'm typing this). FML.
I vow that I will never again date, hell, associate with a guy who writes their rent checks to the same place I do each month. I'll no longer confuse an adult crush as a fun, exciting thing to explore. This has been painful for close to a year. I'm incredibly embarrassed by it all.
I can't say enough how hopeful I am that the end is near.
In other news, last night I attended a bull roast with my brother and, for the lack of a better description due to my fuzzy brain, a large collection of married couples. This was clearly their big night out which consisted of an aged DJ who alternated been 70’s dance music, every line-dance song ever created, and Beyonce. They were taking full advantage of this “night on the town.” I on the other hand felt like a social leper. No one knew what to say to me so they asked me about work. Fun topic. Then, after that topic was thoroughly explored, they asked me for the update on the bar scene. Yup, pretty much sums up their opinion of my life. Work and bars. Simultaneously ultrasound photos circulated around the table. Oohs and ahhs percolated at the view of an alien-like, blurry, black and white photo that I couldn’t make out to be human but accepted it as so. I’m not knocking procreation and marriage it’s just a totally different world than the one I currently inhabit.
I wanted to leave mere minutes after arriving. My girlfriends were out having dinner and drinks just miles away. I was itching to join my own kind. I stayed for a courtesy three hours that felt like a lifetime. Then I high-tailed it to the bar to meet my ladies. Apparently my emotions were written all over my face, along with “buy me a shot” because that is exactly what ensued. One particular guy bought me shot after shot along with a drink every time he ordered one for himself. When he lagged, his friend filled in. At one point, a girl even bought my girlfriend and I shots from across the bar, and the bartender stepped up and passed around free shots as well. I did not buy one single drink. We shut the place down. Last to leave, and no one pushed us out the door. It was exactly what I needed. We danced, we drank, this outcast shook it like a polaroid picture. And the previous hellish three hours were erased from my memory.
We then proceeded to go back to my place where we polished off an entire bowl of chili con queso dip and Tostitos and I drunk texted.
Regardless, a blast was had by all and I was reminded that although it would be nice to have a hubby and a bun in the oven, it’s not for me, not now. It’s easy to look at those my age living another lifestyle and feel I’m missing out, before I stop myself and think about what I want. Me. Despite my age, there is nothing I should feel is expected of me at this stage in my life. I’m single. I’m happy. And that’s OK. Shit, that’s fabulous.
March 10, 2009
Well, I'm a dirty little trickster.
Lately, I've noticed that I'm happy with my small, quiet, singular life. My routine, my dog, grocery shopping, decorating, reading. Making lists, setting goals, planning. All very boring I know. I go out, don't get me wrong but I gotta admit, I don't have nearly as much fun as I used to out in the bar scene. I guess that's expected.
But regardless, I've been finding fun in the un-fun. I've been attempting to make plans for myself. I've noticed lately that I feel happy doing the mundane but could not figure out why. I mean come on, these things are not exciting. Then, it hit me. I'm falling in love. I'm falling in love with myself; with who I am, who I’m trying to be and the life I'm creating for myself. I've got big plans for myself.
At the same time, I'm ready to share my life with someone. I'm ready for someone to join my routine. I want to come home to someone, cook for someone and have someone cook for me once in a while. I want to run and bike on the trail I've discovered with someone. I want to share all of what makes me happy by myself, with someone. In the past I wanted to be with someone as a distraction. A void needing to be filled. I think that's why they always turned into feeling like an obligation rather than something I enjoyed. I finally feel like I am content with my life, by my boring self, and I want someone to join my plan. And shit, help it out a bit. I don't want to do it alone forever. But even if they don't, I'm happy going at it alone.
All of this takes a lot for me to admit and put down in black and white. I've always wanted to be strong and act as if I am perfectly fine alone, always, in case that is what's in store for me.
Since The Ex, which I realized today is going on 4 years now (I realized I've been saying 2 years for the past 2 years), I've been broken. I've really tried to belittle the heartbreak he caused. How he broke more than just my heart but my spirit. I still think of him daily. I don't know if I'll ever have again what I had with him or if I'll ever love that way again, but I know that I want to. I want it. I want it all over again with someone who won't hurt me. I hope it's out there for me.
I'm no longer afraid of sounding pathetic and hopeless by saying these things. I no longer feel the need to have an attitude that says, I don't need a man. Because the truth is, I don't need a man. I'm happy without one. I'm already in love. But I'd like one.
March 2, 2009
But having that extra day, wow. Not only do I get to watch the shows I always miss like Rachel Ray and Ellen, but so far today I’ve done 2 loads of laundry, swept and swiffered the kitchen floor, bathroom floor and entryway, dusted all furniture, cleaned all mirrors/TVs and vacuumed. I finished up a book I started just yesterday. Holler.
And it just started snowing again, love.
P.S. It has not gone unnoticed that I owe this blog a serious update. I really am going to go into detail about the fireman and all of those events. I really do promise I will. I want to. For reals. I'm weird though. I can't force myself to write about certain things...it'll hit me that I gotta get it out and then watch the eff out. Total uninhibited brain dump. Be prepared. It should be coming soon.
March 1, 2009
So anyway, it went well before it didn't. I first felt as though the fact that he was very laid back, casual and whatever-like in regard to making plans and such was a plus. No worry about being pressured into dinner/drinks/movies/blah during the week when I'd rather go to the gym, watch Grey's or do nothing at all. Score. Until of course, that casualness turned into total non-plan making. Period. Oh, he still wanted to do things. He wanted a commitment from me as to when we'd see each other next before he left my presence the last time. What would we do? Who knows. Who cares. Equals? Nada. Yeah, as much as I don't want to date a drill sergeant (Ken), I need a guy to make a plan. I don't want to be forced into the plan, but I want a guy to take the reigns. I have no problem with taking them once in a while, but I stress, once in a while. I'm old fashioned. It's just how I roll.
So once I allowed the fireman to enter my cozy apartment, it was love at first sight. For him. He loved my cozy comfy couches, my big plasma TV. I get it. I love them too. That's why I live here. But you my friend, do not. And you are not my boyfriend. Therefore, you still need to date me. And as we've all learned from He's Just Not That Into You, "hanging out is not dating." Basically, somewhere along the line the fireman simply attempted to nail down a date where we'd "do something" with no plan as to what that something would be. I'd bring up places to eat, etc and he was always uninterested. He even went as far as to ask me to lunch on a Saturday afternoon and then show up at my place "not hungry." I'm serious. He said he wasn't really hungry. Considering our plan was to physically eat lunch, I freaking was. I'm not one of those girls who doesn't eat. I eat and this girl was hungry. I told him this. He had no real reaction.
The final straw was on a different Saturday night about 3 weeks ago. We were both going out in the city with our own separate groups of friends. I was already feeling uninterested by this point, but agreed to us meeting up at some point for a drink. He'd be with his friends, I'd be with mine, no harm done. No one-on-one time. We texted on and off throughout the night and I let him know which neighborhood I was in around 11pm. But, it turned into a serious girl night. One of those good dance nights/one friend gets beligerently drunk nights. You know the kind.
Well the fireman kept calling and I finally was able to answer and actually hear him. He asked if he should come over my way, he was getting into a cab, his friends were staying, he was coming alone. Wtf?! So wait, it's 12:30 am, you're going to come to where I am alone without a car i.e. leach yourself onto me for the night? Ew, no thanks. Not the dynamic I was going for. I told him it probably wasn't a good idea, my friends were pretty drunk and I'd be doing some serious babysitting, another time. It was almost 1am anyway, sorta pointless when last call is at 1:30 and it would take him at least that long to get over to where I was anyway. What was the point?
After that phone call he continued to call and call and call. I'm talking about 15-20 times. I didn't answer. I told him not to come, period end of story. By that time my friend and I were in a late night pizza joint enjoying some greasy food, watching the drunks walk by, and talking to other drunk pizza patrons. I just looked at my phone as he called and called. Totally turned me off. I mean, come on man. Then he started texting me. "Where are you?" "Where are you, babe?" Ugh, babe? Really? Loathe when that comes from guys who have no business using it. Then, "I'm around the corner, where are you?" "I'm here, where are you?" Phone call, phone call, phone call. You get the point. It's after 2am by now. I was so annoyed that he was there but still planned to ignore. I told you not to come, not my problem. So then my friend and I walk out of the pizza place, turn the corner, and who is standing on the corner ON THE FREAKIN' PHONE? You guessed it. The fireman. I wanted to throw up in my mouth.
Long story short, he shows up, no car, no where to stay, too drunk to drive (so he said) and couldn't go home (so he said). We tried to get him to stay at my friend's place in the city but he was just so damn persistent and I am too damn nice. I wound up bringing him home with me with the promise he'd have someone bring him to his car in the morning. On the car ride home I explained how I just wasn't that into him anymore. It was awkward, but it was needed. Especially after that awkward spectacle. Shit, he forced it. He slept on my couch, as he always did. I never let that boy into my bed. In the morning he made no attempts to "call a friend" and my dumb ass drove him to his car. We parted with my agreeing to one more date to see if something might still be there. Damn my niceness. Never fails to be taken advantage of. Why can't I be a cold-hearted bitch when necessary?!
So he went to FL for a week and said he wouldn't call me, I should call him. So of course I didn't. The more time that went by, the more disgusted and turned off I was with his behavior. His lack of effort in an attempt to gain maximum benefits. I mean really. So I decided I'd have yet another talk with him to let him know it was done. I have to. Finalize the deal. Why put myself through anymore? He failed. He's friends with my good friends' boyfriend. There's no sweeping this one under the rug. Believe me, I contemplated it.
So I finally called him last week. The day I call him to break the news is the same day his grandmother has a stroke and he spends the day in the hospital. Fabulous. Totally bad form if I broke the news then. So I listened for about 45 minutes, wished my best, and told him we'd talk later. I figured I should at least wait until his grandmother is OK and out of the hospital. I called him over the weekend--g-mom is still hospitalized and I am still an ass allowing this thing to drag on. I still, have yet, to break the news. But, I've called twice so I feel good about myself. I'm not calling anymore. I don't owe this guy all of that. Done.
So I just spent way much more time than I would have preferred discussing the fireman. Sorry about that.
In other news I just got over the stomach flu. (Wow, aren't I a barrel of fun--failed relationships, stomach flu, fabulous).
P.S. I lied. You know what sealed the deal? As I was explaining to him how there was simply something missing between the two of us, he said, "Why are you playing so hard to get?" I felt like saying (and wish I would have because it's true):
I'm not playing hard to get, I am hard to get.
Quote me on that ish.