Down to the Wire

Well, here I am. It's my last week of work, and my second-to-last week in Los Angeles. I have a free moment (for once) in front of the computer and I find myself, well...

Speechless.

Or virtually so. There is so much that has been going on these past days and weeks, so much that is leading up to my departure and it's all inching its way ever-so-slowly toward denouement. I've been in a holding pattern in so many ways - no new dating prospects, no home improvements, no desire to find new and interesting crannies of LA to explore. On the other hand I've been running myself ragged completing paperwork and medical check-ups and contracts for my upcoming position that I've had time for little else. At the end of the day I'm lucky I brush my teeth before collapsing into bed. So I've been largely quiet here, and in writing in general. I'm feeling semi-reclusive, but I'm still trying to uphold social obligations and to see my friends as much as I can before I go. It's a strange and paradoxical space to be inhabiting, but I can now see the light at the end of the tunnel.

It's coming. It's still a small point right now, but it's getting closer. It's getting larger and brighter and I may have to break out the shades in a couple of days. But it's not here yet.

Lyrics of the Day

"Couldn't quite seem to escape myself. Far enough, far enough, far from Florida. We were all drowning in cruise control. Far enough, far enough, wasn't far enough" Modest Mouse Florida

Ghosts of Boyfriends Past

I should have expected it, because it happened just about this time of year last year. Last year I ignored it, because I was still a bit bitter and pissed off and I was still living in LA indefinitely and I didn't want to risk establishing a connection that I wouldn't be able to get rid of. This year, I thought that there couldn't be any harm in responding, because I've let go of most of that anger and I'm leaving, so in some ways I have nothing to lose.

But my subconscious seems to think that I'm wrong.

Last weekend, I got a message from the Speed Freak via an old social networking site called Friendster. Friendster was a predecessor of MySpace but didn't take off in the same way. I've never gotten around to closing my Friendster account, but I never check it or update it anymore. Somehow, I do still get email updates when someone sends me a message on the site and last Monday I logged onto my email to find a message saying that the SF wrote me on the site. He wrote that he's through living in Chicago (where he moved to go to college while we were dating - the last 6 months of our relationship was long-distance) and that he wanted to get in touch with me. As I said above, I really felt like I had nothing to lose, so I wrote him back a brief, non-committal note letting him know that I'm leaving and asking if he was moving back. I honestly believed that I didn't care whether or not he responded or if he wanted to try to meet up or whatnot.

Two nights later I dreamed that he hunted me down (of course the dream location was outlandish and unrelated to real life, but that's beside the point) and was pleading for another chance while wearing a t-shirt that proclaimed his undying love for me. I spent the duration of the dream running and hiding and being completely mortified that I had ever been involved with him at all.

The sad truth is that is exactly how I feel. The power of infatuation and attraction and the attention that he gave me (at a time when my self-esteem wasn't precisely at the top of its game) drew me into a horrifically dramatic and painful relationship. So I guess that my subconscious can admit what I was sort of trying to avoid: that I still want nothing to do with him.

Lyrics of the Day

"You thought somehow you could just pretend, that you could figure it all out; the mathematics of regret. So it takes two beers to remember now, and five to forget." Ani DiFranco So What

I Think I Need a Plane Ride

It's finally done.

I'm getting out of LA and I know where I'm going and my flight has been booked and I just found out the address where I'll be living.

This is getting more exciting and scarier every day.

I'm going to Baltimore, MD. And yes, for those of you who are near and dear to me on the east coast, this is the appropriate time to jump up and down and clap your hands.

I have a fantastic job opportunity there, not to mention a wonderful proximity to many friends and family members. And maybe, just maybe, the opportunity to date some fabulously non-LA type men...


Lyrics of the Day

"This circus is falling down on its knees, the big top is crumbling down. It's raining in Baltimore, fifty miles east where you should be, no one's around." Counting Crows Raining in Baltimore

Short-Timer's Syndrome

I know that I've been conspicuously absent lately, and well, I really have no excuse. The truth is that very little has been going on. Mostly, I'm just counting down. Counting down the work days, counting down the weekends to go out and have fun and see my friends, counting down the days that I have to pack up my entire life and get it out of LA (which, of course, I haven't even begun to do yet). What I haven't been doing is dating, or really thinking about guys much at all. Well, I guess that I have, just a little.

After meeting my future husband, Rockclimber, he did send me a message and a friend request on MySpace. It was a sweet and pointedly personal message - one of those that you send on dating sites where you specifically reference something in their profile to prove that you read the profile and are interested in who they are as a person. Not that I'm saying he's definitely interested, but it had that nice kind of feel to it. I asked The Sister if he had messaged her and he had. He wrote something to the effect of, "It was great to run into you the other night and your sister is really cool too." So I thought that was really sweet. On the other hand, what's the point? I'm leaving town and it couldn't go anywhere anyway... but it is sort of nice to have the thought of someone liking me.

Last Saturday night I went out with my football friend Brussell. At one point at the bar, a nice young man who didn't really seem to be my type came up and asked if he could give me his phone number. It was at this point that I realized I have the absolutely most perfect and easiest blow-off line ever: I'm sorry, I'm moving in a month. It doesn't hurt any one's feelings and it's the truth.

Last night I hung out with The Kid for the first time in a couple of weeks. It wasn't intentional that we hadn't seen each other, it was just a run of bad scheduling. I had actually started to feel the lack of male attention / affection early this week, so I was more than happy that we were finally able to coordinate - and we definitely made up for lost time. I was talking to my friend The Figa Master about the situation earlier this week and he told me that he was actually surprised that this thing with The Kid was still working out. I told him I was a bit surprised myself, but that I'm pretty sure I knew why: it's always been a finite arrangement. From the moment we first hooked up, we both knew that I was planning on moving in a number of months. This allowed us both to really be in the moment and just enjoy what has been going on for what it is: a purely physical thing. There never had to be any anxiety over whether or not it could go anywhere else, because that was never a possibility. I am going to be sad to see it end though when I finally leave - it's been such a remarkably enjoyable and, for the most part, simple (excepting this one little hiccup). Although I realized talking to The Figa Master that I could have one of these everywhere I go as I'm travelling, I could rack up a whole harem full of Fuck Buddies all over the nation and always have a warm bed to tumble into wherever I go. Of course, I'm being mostly facetious about this... aren't I?

Again, it all comes down to my leaving. I'm trying not to have too much tunnel vision, trying to enjoy the time I have left here - but part of me is withdrawing. Part of me just wants to hole up in my apartment, on my couch with a bag of potato chips and Grey's Anatomy on DVD. And I have been doing a fair amount of that, but I'm resisting the impulse more and more. I've got to try to enjoy the time I have left while I still have it...

Lyrics of the Day

"The hardest part is yet to come, when you will cross the country alone." Death Cab For Cutie Blacking Out the Friction

My Future Husband

I've been shunning the computer lately - I'm not really sure why. I just haven't felt up to writing or emailing or reading much of anything this past week. I go in cycles like this a little, sometimes I just need a break from staring at this screen.

I've also been taking a break from my social life lately. This past weekend was my very last weekend being on-call at my current job. I used this weekend as an excuse to do absolutely nothing. I didn't go out, I didn't see friends, I hardly even left my couch. I just didn't feel like it, and it was fairly nice to have a whole slew of Me Time. Included in Things I'm Taking A Break From Lately has been The Sister, much to her chagrin. She told me on Sunday, "I'm going through a 'oh no my sister is leaving me phase' and you're going through a 'I hate my sister phase'." I said that it wasn't her, it was me (ha ha) and that I was just feeling reclusive. I tried to meet her halfway by saying that we could catch a movie on Monday night, if she wanted to.

So Monday night rolls around and though we were greatly tempted to spend the night in the same manner that I spent my weekend, we mustered our energy and went out to a movie. The film ended at a decent hour, so we decided to run over to the bar across the street from my house afterward and grab a quick drink.

The bar by my house is a very strange, very Hollywood kind of bar. It's in this terrible neighborhood, in the bottom level of a hotel that is generally filled with drug-addicts, prostitutes and drug-addicted prostitutes, yet is somehow a ridiculously trendy bar that can charge $10 for a martini. The kicker is that the only sign outside is one of those neon jobs that says "Cocktails" and the bar's actual name is The Bar. That's LA for you.

The Sister and I rarely go to this bar, because of the above reasons (most notably the $10 drinks), but it was quick and easy on Monday night. Strangely enough, in true LA fashion, we ran into a guy that The Sister had met rock-climbing once and then had run into a couple of subsequent times around town. We ended up hanging out with Rockclimber and his buddy for a while and I have to admit, Rockclimber was pretty cute and charming. Aside from the fact that he's blonde (and I usually stick to the brunettes), he had a lot going for him and I was finding myself being vaguely interested. He's Austrian, funny, sweet, a registered nurse, a professional drummer and the owner of 2 dogs. I find it amusing that I was far more impressed by his being an RN than I was by his being a drummer. The Sister and I agreed that we would MySpace Rockclimber and he said he was having a party next month that we should come to. I invited him to my going-away party in turn and we headed on our merry way.

As soon as we left the bar The Sister said, "So he's pretty cool, right?" I agreed and she proceeded to tell me that when she met him she thought he was great, but a little too quirky for her taste, but that he would be perfect for me. It was pure coincidence that I even got the chance to meet him, but she said maybe it was all meant to be and that I was supposed to marry him.

Of course, I've no intention of trying to start something with someone less than two months before I say au revior to LA for good. But wouldn't that just be my luck?

Lyrics of the Day

"You had to know that I was fond of you, fond of y-o-u. So I took your lips at the time and to change like that is just so hard to do, hard to do." The Shins Turn on Me

Saving Grace

I'm a complete fool when it comes to going on dates with guys that I end up not being attracted to. If you've been reading here for any significant amount of time, you may have figured this out by now. I am completely weak when it comes to rejecting someone that I find to be funny, kind and intelligent but who I know is not the guy for me.

Case in point: Montana Guy.

We had a ton to talk about, what with going to the same college and growing up in the same area and even living in the same area in LA. He's very sweet and has interesting things to say and listens well in turn. But as I said before, I am absolutely not romantically interested in him. Seeing as how I wasn't sure that the "date" was a date in the first place, I felt fairly secure in saying that we should "hang out again sometime" and that would be read in a platonic fashion.

But now I'm not so sure.

He called me a couple days after the coffee date and I delayed calling him back because I was horrendously sick and I hate to talk to people when I'm sick (except my mama, because she always makes me feel better). We traded calls a few days later and eventually connected to discuss hanging out again. I may be paranoid here, but for some reason it sorta felt more like making arrangements for a Date this time, rather than the confusion that was going on before. Either way, we made plans to have drinks tomorrow night.

There once was a time that I vowed to stop going on dates that I didn't want to go on. Somewhere along this journey, I completely lost sight of that. I'm not saying that I don't want to meet Montana Guy for drinks tomorrow night - I just don't want it to be a date. Maybe in my future surroundings (wherever the wind may blow me), I'll be better at avoiding unwanted dates. Maybe not. I'm not so good with change here people.

At this point my saving grace is that fact that I'm leaving. It will allow me to avoid any possibility of having to reject Montana Guy, if he is in fact interested. It also allows for a graceful conclusion to my relationship with The Kid, which may not have happened otherwise. Further more it will allow The Sister and I some much needed apart time, we grow sick of each other far too quickly these days and we really could use the time apart.

In the coming weeks, it's going to be difficult for me to write about much of anything without bringing up my impending departure or speculating on what could lie ahead for me. I hope that you'll bear with me on this, because I'm thinking that the light holds some pretty fantastic stories at the end of this tunnel.

Lyrics of the Day

"I drank from a faucet and I kept my receipts for when they weigh me on my way out (Here nothing is free.)." Death Cab For Cutie Why You'd Want to Live Here

Leaving Los Angeles

I've been threatening this for months, dear readers, and I do not issue idle threats (well, except for the other times that I threatened this, which was pretty much constantly for the past 4 years or so). Although it is going to be the scariest thing that I've done in quite a long time (even scarier than internet dating!), I'm going to say goodbye to LA.

Today I gave notice at my job, though I'm not going to leave until the beginning of April. I wanted to give them 6 weeks notice so that they have ample time to find and train my replacement. This place has been incredibly good to me (for the most part) and I have no desire to walk out on them and leave them in the lurch. In two weeks I'm going to give notice at my apartment building, with the intention of being out of there no later than April 15 (though it'll probably be about the 9th or 10th when I actually leave). Hopefully in three or four weeks I'll know for certain where exactly I'm going to be travelling to for my first assignment.

Assignment you ask?

I don't think I've explained this to you, but here's how things are going to go: with my occupation, I can get a job with a company that works with travelling professionals. Basically the company has contacts all over the country and they send their employees to these sites to work temporary positions, generally for 13 weeks at a time. The company pays for travel, an apartment, weekly per diem allowances, car allowances, insurance and a 401K. I pay for anything extra and my cell phone bill. Yep, that's about it.

This is something that I've wanted to do ever since I found out that it was something that I could do, way back when I was still in school. I had planned on going almost immediately after my graduation, but I got hired on where I've been working and it was too valuable an opportunity to pass up. But I've finally grown far too weary of living here (and even more so, grown weary of missing out on what could be out there for me in the rest of the world) and I put my foot down and told myself that I need to get my ass in gear and get the hell out. So I'm getting my ass in gear.

I have no idea what the future will hold for me. I'm hoping that my theory about my dating problems being linked more to the population of men in Los Angeles than to my own issues and shortcomings will be proven true. I'm hoping that I'll fall in love with another town eventually and find myself a place to settle down and someone to settle down with (eventually). I'm hoping that I'll make enough money to pay off my crappy student loans in a timely fashion and finally be able to purchase a rental property and then a house of my own. I'm hoping that I'll learn more about my job and myself and the world as I travel around, being thrown into one completely unknown situation after another. And in between I hope to spend some time with my friends and family in Montana, travel to visit friends around the country and maybe even pop my head back into LA every so often to see the people that I love that will still live here.

Let the countdown begin!

Lyrics of the Day

"We'll blow away forever soon and go on to different lands. And please do not ever look for me, but with me you will stay and you will hear yourself in song blowing by one day." Suzanne Vega Gypsy

My Married Boyfriend

Did I get my Valentine's Day wish?

Nope.

I was called in to work at 1:30 am. So much for the belief that Cupid could be on my side. But it's Friday and I have a weekend off in front of me and a Game Night tonight with some wonderful girls, so I'm long past needing to complain about it too much.

Waaaaayyy back in September or so, I met a guy during football at Barney's. I could have sworn that I wrote a post referring to him, but I just can't seem to find it, and I've been looking for about the last 30 minutes, so maybe I only thought that I wrote it. Anyway...

We were in our customary Redskins corner and I met this extremely good-looking guy who was also a Redskins fan. (The customary greeting when meeting other Redskins fans is to ask whether they're from Maryland or Virginia, which is then followed by the long-ish story of how I, being from Montana, came to be a 'Skins fan.) He was intelligent, tall, sweet, funny and seemed genuinely interested in talking to me and hanging out with me. I even talked him into joining my crew and I as we journeyed over to Big Wangs for the Broncos game that day. It wasn't until we had been at Wangs for a while that The Sister happened to point out the Very Important thing I had been missing all day long:

The Wedding Ring

Being that I feel far too young to be married, and people tend to be single until they're much older in urban environments than in small towns I've never been one to look for the ring. I just assume that everyone else is single like I am and go about my merry way. Since this day, since I met this guy, I have begun to reform my ignorant ways - but that's not the point of this story.

After getting over my initial annoyance and disappointment, I let it go. That afternoon I think I ran off to flirt with The Kid (way back in the days when we were still playing cat and mouse with each other) and put the cute married guy out of my head. But the next week at Barney's, there he was - sweet and funny and just as happy to see me as he had been happy to hang out with me the week before. I started to realize that what I thought was flirting had really been a genuine interest in me as a person and a genuinely friendly nature which can be really hard to find.

I started to realize that this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

We hung out every week, me with my Bailey's and him with his pints of Guinness. On many an occasion, he would stay and hang out for the Broncos game or accompany me to Wangs to watch it with my Broncos friends. I don't want you to get the wrong idea though - there were never any bad intentions on either part and never once was there any kind of romantic advance from either of us. At some point we exchanged phone numbers with the intention of one day getting some people together (including his wife) to go out for drinks sometime.

Over Christmas he was in DC for the last couple of 'Skins games and during those games we began text messaging each other at particularly good and particularly bad moments. I realized that I missed watching the games with him and hoped that we could watch the post-season at Barney's after the New Year.

Oops.

It was at this point that I realized that I was sort of in love with him. Even The Sister had to admit that he's pretty much the perfect guy for me - well, you know, except for that whole being-married thing. While realizing that this was a love that could never be expressed, could never come to fruition, it was good for me to at least admit that the feelings were hiding in there. The hardest moment for me came just after the New Year, when he called me to talk about the playoffs and to say that he was going to be out of town the whole time. I expressed my distress over this and said that we would have to find a way to get together as soon as he was back, because I was going to be leaving LA before summer. He said, "Wait, you're moving?" and I confirmed this. He then said, "But, you're cool," in the most heartbreakingly crestfallen voice imaginable. It melted my heart.

This friendship has continued to develop, though mostly over the phone as of late. The thing is, he lives in a completely different town that is about an hour away. He just comes down to LA to go to Barney's because he doesn't think any other sports bar can compare (and I'm not arguing with him there). I've begun referring to him as My Married Boyfriend, because it's a relationship that's really unlike any other that I've had before. It's hard to explain, but there's nothing improper about it at all. We just really connect.

The only thing that worries me is that I haven't met his wife yet. I feel like I could let go of any underlying guilt if I could just meet her and befriend her too - to really prove that, in the end, my intentions are noble. And they are. MMB is really the kind of person who is so worth having in my life that I will take him any way I can get him. Though if he wasn't married, I'm fairly convinced that we would have ended up together. These things happen though: you meet someone with whom you share a connection and that connection has no regard for the barriers or limitations that shape it.

The good thing about all of this is that I know if there's one guy out there like this, there must be more. Somewhere, hiding inside of all those little dots on the roadmap, there are men just waiting to meet someone like me. Men who aren't married or irreparably damaged or actors. And very soon, I'll be on my way to find them...

Lyrics of the Day

"You'll never know, dear just how much I loved you; you'll probably think this was just my big excuse, but I stand committed to a love that came before you and the fact that I adore you is but one of my truths." Ani DiFranco School Night

V-Day

I figured that since this blog is about dating and my love life (or frightening lack thereof), etc. that I should at least post something on this, most infamous of holidays: Valentine's Day.

In reality, I don't care all that much about Valentine's. I'm definitely not one of those people who gets horribly depressed by the lack of a date on this day. I'm also not one of those people who would stop speaking to a boyfriend over a lack of a gift on this day.

So what does Valentine's Day have me thinking about this year?

Aside from the almost obligatory mental rehashings of past V-Days, which leads to mental rehashings of past relationships, which leads to various levels of agony and/or mortification over past relationship choices, which leads to a vague curiosity about the whereabouts of particular ex-boyfriends...

Wait, where was I again?

What's actually on my mind today is that fact that I'm sick. I've been sick mostly since Friday and despite a trip to the doctor on Monday, I seem to be distressingly slow getting back on my feet. I took Monday afternoon and the whole of yesterday off of work (which is completely out of character for me) to try to get better, and today I still feel like crap. Of course, getting called into work at 3:00 am this morning didn't help.

What I really, truly want for Valentine's Day this year is some sleep. I want a quiet evening in front of my TV, followed by at least 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Do you think Cupid will grant my Valentine's Day wish?

Lyrics of the Day

"Hey, are you as lonesome as I am and can we talk about it? I'm sorry if I woke you up again, I know how you love sleepin'." Best Kissers in the World You Love Sleepin'

Wait a Second Here...

I just got home from The Kid's house.

I know. I have no idea what happened.

I had completely written him off. I was coming to terms with the rejection (albeit rather begrudgingly) and the only thing I was really worrying about was whether or not he was going to show up at my friend Brussel's birthday party next month. I was sitting on my sofa (where I pretty much spent the entire day yesterday), watching the Pro Bowl and text messaging My Married Boyfriend.

(I tried to write a post about My Married Boyfriend yesterday, but the computer ate it. I will explain that whole thing tomorrow.)

MMB and I were talking about Pro Bowl groupies and I had just sent him a reply to his last message. I heard my text message ring tone almost immediately after I closed the phone. I opened it back up, anticipating a reply from MMB.

I was so shocked that my heart nearly stopped beating. I saw The Kid's name above the message, "watcha doin tonight".

I tried to call The Sister for guidance, but she didn't pick up. I realized that I was going to have to figure this out all by myself, like a Big Girl. So I did. I decided that whatever had happened this week, The Kid must have realized that having sex with a cute girl is better than not having sex with a cute girl. When I finally did talk to The Sister, she said maybe he was trying to prove some sort of point after I was bratty to him last Sunday. Or maybe he just did a total guy thing and forgot to text me back (though that seems fairly unlikely). Either way, I know that I had been quite pessimistic about facing at 2+ month dry spell and I decided that I didn't care enough about all my paranoid agonizing this week to keep me from continuing to hang out with him.

So I said to hell with it all and went over to his place last night. And you know what? It was normal, as if nothing had ever happened. So maybe nothing did. Maybe I made the whole thing up in my head. Or not. But it was actually a fairly perfect evening: we drank some wine, ate some potato chips, watched some Tenacious D episodes and then had some pretty dang good sex.

Lyrics of the Day

"What's your favorite posish? That's cool with me, it's not my favorite but I'll do it for you. What's your favorite dish? I'm not gonna cook it, but I'll order it from Zanzibar. And then I'm gonna love you completely." Tenacious D Fuck Her Gently

Intuition

Throughout my romantic life, there have been times where I've suddenly started reacting differently to the guy that I've been seeing. This is hard to explain. When it happens it feels like everything was normal, but all of the sudden I start to feel unsteady and insecure and thrown off kilter. At first, I don't know what's going on, and the people around me think I'm being a chick and being irrational and starting to get clingy and co-dependent. But these things are not in my nature - I would never normally behave this way.

Over time, I've begun to realize that I'm extremely sensitive to the actions and behaviors of others. It's not that I suddenly begin acting differently toward my significant other (or the guy I'm dating or sleeping with, or whatever), it's that they've begun acting differently toward me.

Sometimes this shift would be completely imperceptible to someone else or to anyone outside of the situation. Sometimes this shift is highly noticeable and it's a no-brainer. Either way, something changes and it usually signals the beginning of the end.

With the Speed Freak, it was pretty much there from about the end of Month One until the end of the relationship, though it ebbed and surged at different times throughout the relationship. With The Ex, I remember the exact moment that I noticed that something was wrong, though it took me weeks to realize what it all really meant. With Irish, it was the way he talked to me on the phone the day before our first (and only) date.

With The Kid, it sorta started with that seductive, yet slightly romantic text message last week. It began to solidify with the scheduling snafu that occurred on Saturday night (though I take some of the blame for that since it was the first time I actually tried to plan seeing him in advance). And of course, the kicker was the unanswered text message response that I sent him on Monday afternoon.

I consulted The Sister about it, before I fully realized that he was blowing me off. I was bitching about the Saturday scheduling and the fact that he didn't reply to my Monday text. She said, "You know, I think you're starting to treat him like he's your boyfriend or like he owes you something, but he doesn't." I thought, at the time, that maybe she had a point. Maybe I was adjusting in the wrong direction to the relationship and I needed to force myself to chill back out. But it was when I texted him "You busy tonight?" on Wednesday and never received a response that I realized I had been reacting to a subtle shift in his behavior. If he had remained chill and casual about the whole thing, while still maintaining the level of interaction that we had glided into, I would've remained calm as well. You see, this is the first time he's ever not responded to a text from me.

Now here's my disclaimer: I am not heartbroken about this. I did not get emotionally involved in this situation. If it is truly and completely over (and I'm fairly sure that it is), that's fine. But I really do feel a certain amount of indignation. Remember those rules that I was talking about a few posts ago? As Constant Dater states them, they apply only before you've slept with someone. If I had been the one to end the arrangement, I would have done so verbally. And you know that I'm telling the truth, because that's how I've dealt with every dating relationship that I've chronicled in this forum.

So here I am, again, begging for your advice. Don't I deserve a concrete answer? Can I text him or call him one more time, just to have the closure that I need? Because emotional involvement or no, I cannot stand being left in suspense.

Lyrics of the Day

"I've been sitting up waiting for my sugar to show; I've been listening to the sirens and the radio. He said he'd be over three hours ago, I've been waiting for his car on the hill." Joni Mitchell Car on a Hill

The Silent Treatment

I can't go into this in depth right now, as I'm nearly out of time, but I just needed to bitch to somebody about this...

I'm pretty sure I won't be seeing The Kid again.

He did not respond to my last 2 test messages (one of which was a response to a text he sent me), and it's the first time that's ever happened.

When you've been having sex with someone on a semi-regular basis for nearly two months (even if it is casual, no-strings-attached sex) and you suddenly decide that you don't want to do it anymore, isn't it common courtesy to let them know about it? Shouldn't he at least say to me, "Hey, this has been fun but it's just not working for me anymore."

Or am I asking too much?

And is there anything I can do about it? Should I reach out one last time, or should I let it go? You see, we were sorta friends first. We have an entire group of mutual friends. I could never behave normally in a social situation if I hadn't talked to him again after this. *sigh*

Damn. I knew this was coming. But that too is a post for another day. Tomorrow perhaps...

Lyrics of the Day

"We told you all of our secrets, all but one and don't you even try; the phone has been disconnected." Tori Amos Mother

Only the Lonely

Something is wrong with me.

All of the sudden, I don't feel so much like myself anymore.

I don't know when this all started, but I started noticing it on last Thursday, as I read a bunch of amazing poems written by other bloggers out there in the blogosphere. At first, it was just a tingle in the back of my brain. Then it became something more concrete, but still something that I felt would pass. But yesterday I took the day off of work and during the hours that I spent on my couch, recovering from Super Bowl Sunday and catching up on my TV shows, this feeling became pervasive. I'm not even sure I can bring myself to say it out loud. But admission of a problem is the first step to solving it, right?

I want to fall in love.

Holy crap. That sounds even worse now that I've written it than I thought it would.

I'm trying to figure out how to say what it is that I'm really feeling here, because the words all seem so inadequate or ill-fitted for what's going on in my head and in my heart. It's a little like loneliness, but not really, because I'm not actually lonely. I'm realizing that it's been nearly 2 years since my last relationship, since I even had the possibility of love, and that's a pretty depressing thought.

In the past five and a half (good lord that sounds like such a freaking long time) years that I've spent living in Los Angeles, I've only felt a real spark 3 times. The fact that all of those times worked out very poorly for me causes me to wonder: is my radar completely off? Am I, in fact, only capable of feeling the spark with guys that are completely wrong for me and/or could never truly be in a relationship with me?

Is it a better sign, or a worse one that each progressive relationship has gotten shorter and shorter?

There was the Speed Freak, who lasted just over a year (although that doesn't count the stupid number of times that we broke up and got back together). There was The Ex, who lasted less than three months, but whose ghost still haunts the back of my mind nearly two years later. Finally, there was Irish, who you all know about from the sad events that I chronicled here. He lasted 3 days, I think.

All this pining and wanting and almost-but-not-quite-and-I-certainly-won't-admit-to-it loneliness seem a moot point too. Because I know deep down in my little heart of hearts that there is no Prince Charming waiting for me in the City of Angels. There just isn't. And it's not that part that bothers me. It's just the waiting - the limbo.

All of this, and this whole thing with The Kid is starting to wear on me. But that's a longer discussion for a different day. Or later tonight, depending on how my afternoon / evening go...

Lyrics of the Day

"When I was young, I never needed anyone and making love was just for fun. Those days are gone." Eric Carmen All By Myself

Shock Me, Shock Me, Shock Me

I've been meaning to write this post since last Thursday, but the end of the week just got too busy for me and I didn't get around to it.

Wednesday night, I actually met Montana Guy for coffee.

It was pretty much exactly what I thought it was going to be: he was very sweet, I wasn't attracted to him, we had a really nice conversation. I would absolutely hang out with him again, but it's not going to go in a romantic direction. Plus, strangely enough, I'm pretty sure that I've met him before. The more that I looked at him, the more familiar he became. I know of at least one function/event thing that we both attended (way the heck back in 2002) and it's quite possible that we met there.

The bottom line is that it was a lot of build up for no good reason. Had I been actually excited about the date, this would be a different story. But, alas - no sparks, no fireworks, no making googly-eyes at each other across the table.

Over the weekend, I dropped by the wine bar where The Sister works for a drink. I was sitting there, chatting with the bartender when I see 3 pretty cute boys walk up behind me. I decide to eavesdrop for a few minutes, because I am a world-class eavesdropper. I hear the particularly cute guy talking about being from Colorado and I think, Hey! Maybe we've got a winner here, maybe I should hit on him, until I hear him mention the next thing - and is anybody really surprised at this point when I say...

Actor. He was an actor.

Why? Because they're all actors. Because nobody in Los Angeles seems to be of the normal, non-actor-y persuasion. It gets more and more exhausting, every time I think about it.

This week, I'm sending out my resume...

Lyrics of the Day

"Gold teeth and a curse for this town were all in my mouth and I don't know how they got out, dear. Turn me back into the pet I was when we met, I was happier then with no mindset." The Shins New Slang

Coming Clean

What do you do when the person that you are sleeping with sends you a provocative, yet slightly romantic text message?

I know that I've been doing the Boot Scootin' Boogie around the issue of my relationship with The Kid, and I haven't been doing it accidentally. There are two main reasons for this: One is that I'm slightly ashamed of the fact that I'm involved with him at all, being that he's both an actor and younger than I am, a fact that I've harped on more than once in this forum. The second is that, intentionally or unintentionally, somewhere along the way I decided that I was going to try to keep this blog more in the PG rating of things. But as of late I've realized that I'm not writing the blog that I want to be writing. It's not that I haven't loved writing everything that I've written here - it's just that I've been holding back a lot, and I'm pretty sure that I don't want to do it anymore.

There are details that I just want to share - because, well as I said, I'm a fan of TMI. I like saying the things that not everyone else would say, discussing topics that some people may find less than savory. So I guess this is a bit of a disclaimer: things are about to get just a little more revealing around here and there may be a Bad Word thrown in here and there and that's just how it's going to be.

A girl can only be good for so long.

Which brings me back to the initial question: should I or should I not be worried that The Kid sent me a text today referencing the beauty of my hair?

Many people don't necessarily approve of the idea of casual sex. Many people can't compartmentalize enough to believe that it's possible to have an honest and healthy sexual relationship without any real feelings involved. I am not one of those people. For as long as I can remember (or at least since I discovered my very healthy libido - though that was fairly late in my life, developmentally speaking), I've wanted a Buddy of this sort. I have always been fairly sure of my ability to handle this type of relationship and especially longed for one in the long days in between boyfriends when I had no form of relief outside of myself. But it had always eluded me until now.

When The Kid and I first hooked up, way back at that ugly Christmas sweater party, a brief conversation was had concerning the nature of our interaction. It was understood that neither of us was looking to turn this into an actual Relationship, but that we were both up for "hanging out" on a semi-regular basis. In practice, this has been working very well. But every once in a while, I get paranoid and girly-over-analytical and I start worrying that he's got feelings for me. I'm not saying that it would be the most horrifying thing in the world or that I don't care about him at all, because I do. We were friends first and he's a sweet guy and I do enjoy the time I spend hanging out with him (even when we're not actually having sex). It's just that I'm extremely happy with the way things are right now and part of me is scared to death that something is going to screw it up and I'm going to have another Mojave Desert sized dry spell like the one that The Kid just helped end.

Everyone I've talked to (though that's not a ton of people), including my therapist (Did I ever mention that I see one of those? I don't think that I did, but I do, albeit rather occasionally right now since I've felt so good for so long.) thinks that the relationship with The Kid is actually a good thing for me and that I need to resist the urge to over-analyze or over-worry it. They're right, I know this. I know that, in reality, I never have to address whether or not The Kid develops feelings for me unless he actually comes out and says something to me. But there's still that little bit of me that keeps the fear alive in the very very back of my brain.

Phew!

I really feel a lot better. I had been sort of dying to get that all out there. I'm not one that's ever been any good at holding back and I was pretty close to exploding with the "secret" of what was going on this whole time. Sometimes I just want to share, I want to spill everything or somethings or even one thing and I haven't been allowing myself to.

Lyrics of the Day

"Your gun went off. Well you shot off your mouth and look where it got you. My mouth runs on too. " Modest Mouse The View

Delayed Like a Flight at Christmas

This date with Montana Guy is never going to happen.

I'm so annoyed that something that I wasn't even sure was a date in the first place, and wasn't even sure I was that interested in going on is turning into such a colossal pain and waste of time.

Three times we've made plans to get together on a certain day.

Three times I've kept my schedule open and mentally prepared myself for all the rigors of First Date Conversation® .

Three times I've sat around wondering when exactly he's going to call me, since I've obviously got an entirely different idea in my head as to what "convenient and appropriate" calling times are.

I almost want to employ the three strikes law here, but my stupidly guilty conscience doesn't want me to.

But at what point does it just become too ridiculous and not worth it? The first time we were supposed to go out he cancelled because a new job came up. (He's a writer of some sort and gets random freelance jobs occasionally, at least that's the impression I've gotten.) The second time, I was intending on trying to double-schedule him with The Kid until I got tired of waiting for him to call. When I called him to beg off the date, he said that he was going to have to cancel anyway. That assuaged any guilt I had over wanting to hang with The Kid instead of going on the date, but it also irritated me that he was cancelling for a second time. Then, last night, I lay in bed (because I'm a pathetic old lady and I go to bed at 9), wondering if he was ever going to call. Finally he did call, but only the cancel once again. This time, instead of trying to reschedule, he said that he would call me when he knew how his schedule was going to be a bit better.

Is it even worth bothering any more? I honestly don't know. I don't want to be rude about it, but why is there any point in trying to date if you don't even have time for a quick coffee?

Lyrics of the Day

"When you said you needed me, did you really need me or was it just someone – oh, you’d take anything. Am I first on that list of yours, or am I second, or third?" The Good Life Inmates

Key Points

Something is telling me that it's time to go. And it's not just the little voice in the back of my head that has been dying to get out of LA for months now.

I am an extremely responsible person. I pay my bills on time, I balance my checkbook, I never lose anything, I always keep my appointments, I'm always on time for work. You wouldn't know this about me by the way the end of last week went for me, and I'm pretty sure that it's a message that the Universe is trying to send me.

Every morning as I leave my apartment, I check my pocket to make sure that I've got my keys with me before I close the door. Every morning they're there and I go on my merry way. Friday morning, I shut the door, then checked my pocket for my keys - only to find that, for the first time ever, they weren't there. They were still sitting on the table where I throw them every day and I had instead picked up my spare pair of sunglasses and slipped them into my pocket.

On Saturday morning, I woke up far too early filled with anxiety over the grocery shopping and house cleaning that I absolutely had to get done. I got out of bed at 8:30 am, after a mere 6 hours of sleep, and ran around town before getting to some serious cleaning. It was after I ran a bunch of errands that I realized that the part of my keychain that contained my mailbox and laundry room keys was no longer attached to the rest. I tried to swing back by the parking lots I had been in to see if I could see where I had dropped the keys, but to no avail.

Sunday morning my pager went off at 4:30 am, after I had been in bed for only 3 1/2 hours. I went to work, left, and crawled back into bed at 5:50 am. At 6:1o am, my pager went off again. I cried, got out of bed and went back to work. At 7:30 am, when I was halfway home again, my pager went off for a third time. It was nearly 9:00 am by the time I got back to sleep.

Between the Universe's obvious message that I need to move the heck out of my apartment and the fact that work has got me a hair's breadth from burning out right now, I'm realizing that it's really time for me to make a change. As much as I want to leave, I've spent this first month of 2007 procrastinating and waffling and having second thoughts about whether or not I'm ready to go. I've been in LA for over 5 1/2 years now and I'm quite comfortable here - I could stay forever in this imaginary land I live in and wake up one day, single and 35 and wondering where the last 15 years went. But that's not what I want. I want to move on and move forward. I want to see what and where and who else is out there, in the great beyond that is everything north and east of Southern California.

Most of all, I want some time off. I want to go to Montana for more than a week and hang with my family and my friends and my home state. I want some flexibility in my working life and I want to meet some guys who never have been, nor have ever wanted to be actors.

Lyrics of the Day

"I think that I'm just tired, I think I need a new town to leave this all behind." Augustana Boston

Etiquette - Revisited

During the seemingly endless string of delays that seems to be surrounding my possibly-impending date with Montana Guy, I have been thinking a lot about dating etiquette again. I don't know if this is due to the fact that I maybe might possibly have a date in the near future or not - but a thousand thoughts have been swirling around in my pointy little head.

When I embarked on this dating adventure initially, I promised myself that I was going to honor the Gods of Dating Karma™ by doing the kind and honorable thing whenever confronted with the need for politely rejecting someone. I told myself that no one likes the brush-off method and that people would rather just be told straight up that I'm not interested.

But was I wrong?



I was reading in another blog recently that not responding to an email from a party that you're not interested in is the best way to go. That no one wants to receive a "thanks but no thanks" email back and that they'd rather get nothing at all. I always thought that I was being considerate by sending a "no thanks" email, but when I thought about it more I realized that I received more negative responses to those emails than I would have received had I done nothing at all.

Then today, in my state of mild boredom, I was reading over Constant Dater's old posts and found a particularly interesting one featuring her take on dating etiquette.

Constant states that it's perfectly acceptable, nay, preferable for someone to use the Unreturned Phone Call / Email as a method of getting the point of rejection across. And you know what? At this point, I'm inclined to start to agree with her. I don't know if anyone remembers this rejection, but it still breaks my heart every time I think about it.

So is she right? Is that really the best way to go when matters of the heart are concerned? What do you guys think?

Lyrics of the Day

"Manners, ain't nothing wrong with having manners. Show respect and some courtesy." Third World Manners

Small, Small World

On Friday night I was supposed to go out with a bunch of old friends (including The Figa Master and The Monster) as Part One of Two last hurrahs with The Monster before she runs off to Europe to teach hot guys how to speak English. The Sister had the night off and decided to join, as she hadn't hung out with me in a long time.

Long story short, things didn't work out quite as planned. As in, the guest of honor ended up bailing out at the very last minute.

But we went ahead and had some fun anyway.

We were at the Cabo Cantina, a place that we went to a ton over the summer, but haven't been back to in quite a while. Possibly we hadn't been there since this night (see #4 under "yesterday's points" for the event).

As per usual, you cannot go anywhere in Hollywood (if you've lived here as long as I have) without running into people you would never expect to run into. The Sister started saying that she thought she recognized this guy across the bar, but couldn't figure out who he was. Then she noticed that he seemed to be saying the same thing about her, so she was sure she had to know him.

Imagine our surprise when we realized that it was these guys (+ a third guy that we met that weekend). We hadn't heard from them in months (though I have been MySpace friends with The Filmmaker since last I posted about him).

After many a 2-for-1 margarita and some much needed catching up with some of my girls (notably SJP, back on holiday break from her Harvard exploits and LAJ, who has an Irish Boyfriend now - could I be ANY MORE envious?), The Sister and I ended up wandering to another bar with The Filmmaker and the third guy, Old Blue Eyes. The four of us were maybe a little intoxicated and we may have made complete fools of ourselves dancing around in the bar, but we had a hell of a time.

Actually, the time we had was rather...

Legen...

Wait for it...




Dary.

(Seriously, watch that video. This is quite possibly my favorite sitcom to hit TV in the last 5 years. Maybe more.)

Anyway, we had an insanely good time. And I have to admit that when I didn't end up hearing back from The Filmmaker way back in August, I felt rather rejected. But on Friday night, I totally won. I won so much so that the boys called The Sister (for she had given Old Blue Eyes her number) on Sunday to see if she and I wanted to meet them for drinks.

Lyrics of the Day

"She gives me a hug ‘til our hips are flush, she says, 'Boy, we’ve hardly kept in touch – it’s time for catching up.'" The Good Life Notes in His Pockets

T.M.I.

I have this inexplicable habit of sharing too much information with [relative and complete] strangers.

Now I don't mean, "Oh my god that Thai food gave me the worst diarrhea!" kind of T.M.I.

I mean that I randomly launch into stories that no one needs to know, with no prompting whatsoever from the conversation or situation at hand.

Just today I heard someone in the hallway mention a 9-volt battery. This seemed to remind me that this was the perfect time to share details of my recent struggles to maintain the battery-powered operation of my stubborn parking lot gate remote with my student and the person I was servicing at work this morning.

Did they care about my battery-operated remote control?

Of course not.

Does that stop me from sharing the story in its entirety?

Of course not.

And, embarrassingly, this is a habit that most certainly extends into my dating life. It tends to work (somewhat, at least) in my favor on first dates, as it allows me to refresh the conversation at will if it seems to be flagging. But at many (okay, well, most) other times, it merely strikes people as odd or possibly even annoying.

Tonight, the person most annoyed by my habit was Me. I was stumbling through my first telephone conversation with Montana Guy as if I'd never talked on the phone with anyone as long as I'd lived. It wasn't nervousness, not really, as I'm not even sure this guy is a realistic romantic prospect. It was something else altogether, that I'm really just now realizing.

I'm RUSTY.

I haven't had a New Prospective Date-type interaction in quite a while now. Being that I've been unsure whether this was going to be a date anyway, I had not mentally prepared myself for the call that I had told him to make tonight.

Whether or not I made a total ass of myself (though I am leaning towards the fact that I did), the tentatively planned date for tomorrow night is a no-go. Montana Guy just got a new job and needs a few evenings of adjustment before he's going to be available. He suggested this weekend, but I'm completely swamped (with plans to be disclosed at a later date in this space). So we're setting another tentative plan for next week, depending on how the rest of this week works out for each of us.

Then we can see just how much inane information I can disclose before he runs screaming for the hills.

Lyrics of the Day

"I feel stupid, but it's something that comes and goes. I've been changin', I think it's funny how no one knows." Matchbox Twenty Mad Season