Pass the Chapstick

On Saturday Mr. Green and I went to an NFL Draft party that one of our team members was throwing at his place. It almost felt strange to go together, as it's not like we've been dating for very long or are sharing that information indiscriminately. I know that some people definitely got what was going on by the end of Thursday night, but not everyone was around to see that. But it wasn't that strange. It was easy. It's all been easy.

What wasn't easy was that we got to the party at about 1:30 and the draft didn't start until 4:00. That left almost 3 hours to be filled with Beer Pong and Flip Cup. What wasn't easy was resisting the urge to make out with Mr. Green in public once I'd had a drink or two. What was easy was kicking butt at Flip Cup. I just have a natural talent.

(If it sounds like I'm behaving like a college kid all over again - I totally am. I'm not ashamed of it at all. I felt like this part of my social life has been missing since I left LA and since I was with PC and I'm ecstatic to have it back. I'm not married, I don't have children. I'm gainfully employed and fiscally responsible. If I want to let my hair down and act like I'm 5 or 6 or 8 years younger in my free time, I should do it while I can. And I'm going to.)

So we watched about the first 13 draft picks (as number 13 was the all-important Redskins first round pick) before being a little too intoxicated to pay as much attention as was deserved. Once I had finished off a six-pack of Woodchuck (which I paid for with a raging 6 am headache on Sunday morning), there was no turning back. At some point, Mr. Green and I ended up talking on the porch for long enough that I think the other party-goers thought we had left, and it wasn't long after that we went back to my house.

Some of the rest of the evening is blurry - but the later it got, the more clear it got, because I really had quit drinking pretty early on. What I can tell you is that there was a lot more kissing and not a whole lot of sleeping. It has been so long since I've done this with someone - enjoying getting physical without getting completely physical. I certainly didn't do that with PC. Before that I was spending time with The Kid, and that was nothing but physical. And I'm not even sure my memory can go back much farther than that. Suffice to say that it has been a long time since I have been in this situation. And this situation is a bit intense. I guess I sort of forgot what new attraction is like and I was so miserable at the end of my relationship that it was hard for me to muster much attraction at all. This is fun.

He stayed until about 2pm Sunday afternoon. Once I was irreversibly awake, I subjected him to day 2 of the draft. We stayed in bed and watched a bit, talked a bit, made out a bit. It was a perfect Sunday morning. By the end of it all, my lips were ridiculously chapped and I had some serious beard-burn to show for it. Completely worth it.

Lyrics of the Day

"To wake next to you in the morning, and good morning to you. How do you do? Hey, good morning to you!" Band of Horses Part One

Men Are Like Taxis

I wish I could remember where I read or heard this: that men are like taxis. The theory is that when a man is ready for, or open to, the possibility of a relationship he turns his taxi light on. If you happen to be the girl that hails the cab (him) while the light is on, you've got a possibility of a decently long ride. But if you grab a cab with the light off, it doesn't really matter what you do, it's just not going to go anywhere. I think I learned this little theory sometime after The Ex dumped me. His light was definitely off, it just took a few months for him to figure that out.

What I have learned in the last week is that Mr. Green's light is on - really on.

After our date on Monday, Mr. Green sent me a text to say that he had a good time. Then he called me on Tuesday, just to talk. And on Wednesday. I wasn't expecting that at all - the lack of game-playing and holding back. It seemed that he wanted to talk to me, so he called. Dating someone definitely didn't go so smoothly back in the LA days where everyone is always on the lookout for something better than what they have. We didn't really talk about when the next date would be, as we knew there would be Thursday night and kickball.

Thursday night we won our game. Well, we really didn't - the other team forfeited - but that counts as a win and we'll take one where we can get one. Mr. Green and I kept it casual at the field and afterward at the bar, but got subtly closer and touchier as the evening progressed. You know how that goes: first you kind of stand near each other, then there's a little brushing of the arms, next a little leaning into each other and eventually it's pretty hard to miss that something is going on there.

We left the bar at the same time and walked out to where our cars were parked. I was thinking of the weekend and if he wanted to go to our teammate's draft party with me on Saturday. I was thinking maybe we would grab a drink or something on Friday night. Around this time, Mr. Green suggests something along the lines of coming home with me - though he said it in a tactful I'm-not-just-trying-to-get-into-your-pants way. The thought hadn't even crossed my mind, to be honest, but once it did it seemed like a pretty good idea. It seemed like a fantastic idea, actually, but I had to address the important stuff first. I told him that I wasn't looking to rush into something too quickly, especially not in the physical sense. But I said that I was really enjoying spending time with him and would be cool with him coming over, as long as things didn't cross certain lines.

So he came over. We had a drink, sat on my porch and just talked for a while. There was very tentative but brief talk of previous situations. He told me that he has dated since he's been in Florida (about a year now), but hasn't had anything serious. I told him that things had been on the way out in my relationship for a while before it actually happened - implying that I'm not just rebounding. (I think I've told you all before that I detest previous relationship talk. I don't want to know and I certainly don't want to tell you much. It only puts bad images and feelings in people's heads and provides ammo to drudge up when fighting.) But it was good to learn the most basic information and know that Mr. Green isn't a creepy serial-monogamist.

(I don't really think all serial-monogamists are creepy, but for me there is just a certain amount of suspicion attached when someone is constantly in a relationship. It generally means that they have some kind of problem being alone and may not be all that discriminating when it comes to who they commit to. You know what - I'm trying not to offend here, but to be honest, I do think serial-monogamy is creepy.)

Then we made-out for half the night like a couple of high school kids. It was fabulous. I think that making-out is a bit of a lost art these days; everyone is always jumping right to the sex of it all. And Mr. Green can kiss. Our styles are near-perfectly compatible and there was some definite heat there. More than some. A lot. Eventually, we had to sleep a little (and judging by how delirious I felt at work on Friday, it definitely wasn't enough) and he put his arms around me. They call it spooning because you lay just like spoons, lengths and curves aligned, and Mr. Green and I were a perfect fit.

Lyrics of the Day

"I know your name, I know your skin, I know the way these things begin. But I don't know what I would give of myself, how I would live with myself if you don't go." Suzanne Vega Caramel

Back on the Horse

So, after just over a month of my new single status, I went on my first date in nearly two and a half years. Mr. Green (This is based on what my coworkers are calling him. I've gotten a reputation as the office recycling-nazi and his job has to do with converting waste into fertilizer for orange groves and things. My coworkers thought this was a riot, that I would date someone who does work that is environmentally friendly.) and I talked on the phone last weekend a couple of times before figuring out that we would meet up for a drink on Monday evening.

I played it really cool on the phone and on the date itself, but I totally dorked out that evening before I left. I had to call The Sister for advice on clothing and greeting protocol. I even texted her a picture of the shirt I was thinking of wearing, so that I could get Fashion Guru approval. I aimed for something slightly better than casual, but not something that made it seem like I was trying too hard. I had forgotten what a nerve-wracking art the Date Outfit is. So we met at an ale house in a big shopping center down here. Mr. Green lives in Naples, which is about 30 miles south of Fort Myers and the shopping center was somewhere in between.

It went well. It went really well. We talked and talked and had some drinks. I found out that we are way more compatible than I had initially thought. He used to be a professional motocross rider, which is not something I even know anything about. But he's got a Real Job and has his stuff together and we talked really easily. And he's pretty adorable. He's got dark hair and almost shockingly light eyes. The contrast is really cool. He's somewhere around 6', maybe a little taller and has great hands, which is a thing with me.

We had a few drinks at the ale house and then agreed to postpone our mutually early bedtimes a bit longer by stopping over at another bar for one last drink. I broke out the old, "I've got a cat" information - which is something that is actually more of a worry than you would think. Some guys just hate cats. But Mr. Green does not. Mr. Green likes cats and didn't flinch when I mentioned mine. Score one for LB.

After the final drink, we walked to our cars. There was casual, yes-there-is-chemistry touching. And then, there were kisses. Slightly tentative, really nice, no-tongue kisses. Quite a few of them.

Lyrics of the Day

"And let our legs just run, no concept of distance. And all these rules we've learned could make no difference. There's so much to do or say without repeating... so why don't we?" Maria Taylor Lighthouse

I've Got Game

Of course, there are cute guys that play in the kickball league. Initially, I just appreciated the chance to revert to my old shameless-check-out ways. But as the newness of my single status wore off, I began to realize that I could flirt again. I could bat my eyes and giggle and generally make a fool of myself. It was rather liberating.

From the beginning, there were a couple of guys on my very own team that I took notice of. One of them turned out to be married (I should be getting used to that by now, but it's still a very odd concept for me). The other seemed, as far as I could see, to be unattached. So I began to foster a little crush. I had forgotten how much fun it was to have a crush; I used to be the queen of crushes. But two years in a relationship gets a girl out of practice.

So, week before last, I show up at kickball and expect to continue my crushing. All seemed well through the game (despite the fact that we lost), but at the end of the game I was thrown a curve (ha ha, clever kickball puns). My crush had a girl with him.

I have to say, I was inordinately crestfallen at this discovery. I actually thought to myself at the time that I was way more bummed out than I should have been. But I shook it off and the girl actually ended up being pretty cool and a good sport as she joined us at the Flip Cup table.

Now, our kickball league (and I assume all kickball leagues) puts out a hilariously irreverent weekly newsletter. Previously they had noted that there was not enough hooking up going on at kickball and they intended to change that. So they put out an issue last week with pictures of league singles and a couple of (amusingly fabricated) profiles. After the game, at the bar, my crush commented indignantly that he got left out of the singles issue of the newsletter. He said, "What, just because I bring a girl to a game, everyone assumes I have a girlfriend?" And of course, that's absolutely what we all assumed.

When he set us all straight, saying that she was a nice girl but not the one for him, I realized that the door to my crush had reopened. So I flirted. I flirted blatantly, but not to the extent that I actually looked like an ass (I must be learning in my old age!).

Near the end of the evening, as I worked my way toward the door, my crush suggested that we exchange phone numbers. I agreed that we should and after we had walked out of the bar and discussed getting together sometime the following week, he planted a peck on my lips as we parted.

Lyrics of the Day

"All at once you look across a crowded room to see the way that light attaches to a girl." Counting Crows A Long December

Kickin' It

For the past six weeks or so, I've actually been involved in social activity down here on the gulf coast and it has been my saving grace in my newly single state. Every Thursday night is kickball night.

I got hooked up with this through a coworker and it has been the perfect thing. It's only partially about playing kickball (yes, that same schoolyard game that most of my generation played), it's really mostly about going to the bar. Much more time is devoted to the sport of Flip Cup than is devoted to the kickball itself - fortunately for me, I seem to have a little bit of talent for both.

The coworker who introduced me to the idea of joining the kickball league ended up bailing on the activity herself, so I was thrown into a crowd of 15 or so people whom I had never met. Many of the players were separated by more than one degree and a couple were randomly assigned to the team by the league. Somehow, it ended up being a fantastic mix of really wonderful people.

Originally, PC had been a member of the team as well, but the break-up went down after the first game and I've been on my own since. My teammates were very sweet and supportive when I broke the news that PC wouldn't be returning to the team, and the social environment is so much more fun and stress-free for me now that I don't have to watch him interact in it.

(*Anyone who wants a taste of what PC was like in public should really go see "I Love You Man". The way that the Paul Rudd character behaves around the friends that he's trying to make was frighteningly reminiscent of how PC would behave. Watching it was like having an acid flashback.)

Kickball has been a great place for me to meet potential friends. I didn't really expect to meet potential dates though...

Lyrics of the Day

"I fell on the playing field, the work of an errant heel. The din of the crowd and the loud commotion went deafening silence and stopped emotion. The season was almost done, we managed it 12 to 1. So far I had known no humiliation in front of my friends and close relations." The Decemberists The Sporting Life

Right Outta My Hair

This blog is about to become a PC-free space.

I'm tired of talking about it. I'm tired of letting his bullshit affect me (If anyone is a grammatical genius and can explain to me, coherently, how to know when to use affect vs. effect I would be forever grateful.), which is something that should end when a relationship ends. I'm trying to tie up loose ends so that I won't have to associate with him again until he comes to pick up his things. Aside from the self-serving wish to have it all over, I really do believe that is the best thing for both of us.

I could continue to detail the conversations that we've had (PC asking me if I had been accessing his email account and the ensuing revelations that I knew what he had done; the subsequent denials of everything except what he knew I had concrete proof of), the things that I keep finding around the house that he took without asking (like my razor blades, as if we hadn't had that argument about 8 times) or that he left undone (like the dirty coffee pot that I happened to find and clean before actual mold formed). But I'm not going to do that. Well, any more than I just did.

I'm going to do, on the page, what I've been doing in my head since he left. I'm going to move on. I almost feel guilty for disconnecting so quickly and thoroughly, but it's hard not to when I was constantly on the verge of disconnecting for most of the last year. I feel better. I feel lighter without him. I feel slightly panicked about the prospect of dating again and having to impress men again. But even that feels good.

So, next step in the process is: Research.

Lyrics of the Day

"There's one thing I want to say, so I'll be brave. You were what I wanted, I gave what I gave. I'm not sorry I met you; I'm not sorry it's over; I'm not sorry there's nothing to say. I'm not sorry there's nothing to save." Stars Your Ex-Lover Is Dead

Lie To Me

I've been lied to before. The Speed Freak tried very hard to cheat on me, and he may have actually accomplished it. He never told me the truth about any of that (or much else, really). The Ex lied unintentionally (and probably more to himself than to me) when he rushed me into the semblance of a relationship without the ability to finish what he started. But I'm not sure I've ever been so violated.

I'm losing sleep over this. I really can't believe that it really happened and was happening for so long. Part of me really wishes that I had been told earlier, when everyone else knew but me, so that I wouldn't have made the mistake of those last few months. But the rest of me knows that I needed to make this mistake, learn this lesson, and do it on my own. The people that protected me were doing the right thing, even if it is painful to think about how long it was that I was the only one not in on the joke.

The problem is that now I want to obsess over this information. I was, as a wise friend put it, spied on. I was spied on by a person who swore up and down that he admired my independence and respected my privacy. I let him share my computer, trusted him with my phone, told him about the existence of this space. Because he said I could trust him.

Is there an excuse for that? For being stupid enough to believe someone when they say something to you, even when you've caught them in blatant and bold-faced lies on more than one occasion? Is that the desire to trust or just some pathetic, subconscious attempt to keep from being alone?

The truth is that I can't figure out exactly how this is making me feel. I have flashes of near-livid anger. I have long periods where I can't really conceive of the reality I'm now living in. I have moments of nauseous anxiety and moments where I want to call him and tell him exactly what I think of him and his uber-creepy activities. In the end, I'm not going to do that. I'm going to call My Husband and apologize for putting him in this situation. I'm going to, definitively, move on with my life. I'm going to get everything I possibly can that belongs to him out of my house. I'm going to change my passwords, just in case. I'm going to try to get it through my thick skull that it doesn't matter how much he lied to me anymore, so I don't need to spend my nights thinking of things he could have lied about and analyzing the likelihood that he did.

Because, in all honesty, there are probably more of those things than I will ever know or ever want to know.

Lyrics of the Day

"Why you always making me cry? Why you always making me cry? You look me in the eyes and tell me all your lies. So why you always making me cry?" Joe Purdy Why You

Trust No One

I don't consider myself an optimist. I really tend toward pessimism and I anxietize about everything. But I guess that I tend to want to see and believe the best in people and it turns out that can be a dangerous game.

I feel that I should give a little background...

Last November, my family went on a trip to the Dominican Republic. A family vacation for a family that may or may not be whole for very much longer. After the vacation we went to California for Thanksgiving and I planned a weekend in LA to catch up with friends and hang some more with The Sister. I ended up spending most of that weekend with My Husband and a good friend of his, The Editor. The Sunday that I was in town, the three of us and my fam spent, literally, a full day drinking. We started at about 9:30 am for the Redskins game at the bar in LA where 'Skins fans are known to congregate and made stops at a couple more bars throughout the course of the day. I had a connection with The Editor which was flattering and surprising. In the end I ended up enjoying the attention too much and flirting with him and I upset My Husband. This is not the first time this kind of thing had happened and he didn't talk to me for a while, which I basically expected. Eventually, after a sincere apology over email, we started talking again casually. But it has gone in fits and starts and now I haven't actually talked to him in a few weeks.

My family is in Florida right now. My parents came to town for 2 weeks and they decided last week to fly The Sister down for the weekend so that we could all be together. My dad seems to be losing ground fairly quickly and we're seeing the need to spend as much time together as we can. More than once this weekend, The Sister or my parents mentioned doing things with MH, talking to him, future plans with him. I was pissed. I thought that it was completely uncool that he was still basically shutting me out but he felt like it was totally fine to still involve himself with my family. This morning, I told The Mother that I was pissed. That it bothered me that he would still insinuate himself into parts of my life but shun me personally.

Then the truth came out.

No one wanted to tell me, because they didn't want to be responsible for breaking up a relationship that I was trying to make work. No one wanted to get involved when they weren't sure that they should. But it was time I knew. I had to know.

PC had called MH. He had called because he suspected something and wanted to know what happened. He called because he had been reading my email and he saw my apology letter to MH. He called after he looked through my phone and got My Husband's number and put MH in the worst position possible. My Husband stopped talking to me to protect me from what he knew about PC. He wanted to protect me from the knowledge that PC checked my phone and my text messages and my emails. All the time. And part of me suspected things like this. Part of me thinks that he found this blog (though I still can't figure out how, if he did) and that he's been using it and everything else that I've typed to keep track of me. But I wanted to believe that he respected my privacy. I wanted to believe that I could have things that were my own. Because I can't honestly conceive of doing that to someone else. Why would you want to be with someone when you trust them so little?

Lyrics of the Day

"If she only knew, then he'd be through. But who knows which parts are true. She hates how it looks, but what can she do? The girls all talk behind her back, they say she's being used." The Good Life Notes in His Pockets

Walking Wounded

There is no such thing as a good time for a break-up. I know this. But somehow right now seems like it might have been the worst possible time for me to have finally dropped the axe. Don't get me wrong - I'm way too far down this path to think about turning around to look for bread crumbs, but some days right now coming home to an empty house feels worse than coming home to the possibility of a fight.

Everything bad comes in threes, right? So maybe I should have expected all this. Okay, that sounds melodramatic and I do like to avoid melodrama when I can. But it's been a tough week or so and I'm beginning to feel worn down. The worst part is there isn't really anyone to talk to about it. That's one of the most glaring losses in the end of the relationship: the loss of PC as a constant and sympathetic ear. (The irony of this is that it actually drove me crazy that he always wanted to know everything about everything; it would feel like he was constantly grilling me and invading my privacy by asking what I did or what I talked about every minute of every day.) The problem with living across the freaking country from nearly everyone you love and hold dear is that it's impossible to keep them all up to date on daily happenings in your life.

This is the long way of saying that things have suddenly gotten harder. The job that I moved down here to take was a wonderful job when I got here. It was a good environment with entertaining coworkers and challenging professional demands. In the last 2 weeks this has all gone down the toilet. The two Fort Myers locations of my office have just merged and all the charm that existed in the other office has completely disappeared. Now, the coworker who decided to hire me and is my direct superior is actively and aggressively looking for a new job. This would leave me with the possibility of either being thrown to the administrative wolves without her here, or the possibility of having her job (and it's infinite responsibilities) shoved on me. Suddenly instead of relaxed and happy to go to work, I'm getting as close to a panic-attack as I've ever had every morning. I'm just waiting for the next explosion.

Worse, though, than any of the rest of this (worse than the break-up by far, really) is that my parents have come into town to visit. That, in and of itself, is a wonderful thing. The hard thing is that my dad's health has been getting steadily worse, no matter what he and my mom try to do about it. Almost every radical or experimental (and not covered by insurance, of course) treatment that anyone out there has ever done or heard about is being tried. They just spent 3 months with The Sister in LA trying something that was supposed to have an 80% success rate. Yet nothing has made a difference and the way things are going I'm not sure how much longer my dad is going to stay out of a wheelchair. This is what happens to me every time I haven't seem him in a little while and then I see him again - I have to realize how bad things are and re-learn how to cope with it over and over again. Every time a new treatment is started, we are all hopeful and positive, but it gets harder to do each time he continues to lose ground despite all that is tried. He weighs less than I do now and he's got more than six inches on me.

It feels like a lot. It feels like so much that I wish I had someone else to help me carry it all. PC was around for all of it. He was with me when we first figured out that my dad was really sick and my parents flew to Mayo Clinic to find out what was happening. He was there at Christmas to do things that my dad couldn't do. He was here when I started this job and here when I started having misgivings about how it was going to turn out after the two offices actually merged. He's been with me for all of it and now, he's not. Now it's me and my big, empty apartment and my silly cat.

Don't worry. Really. I'm not going to call him. I may have been pretty selfish for most of the end of the relationship, but I'm not selfish or cruel enough to think that my personal problems give me license to hurt him any more than I already have.

Lyrics of the Day

"Wide awake and he shakes in a panic, never woke up alone ever before. Had his woman long as he can remember, tries to forget but he can't, he can't." Pearl Jam Alone

Let Go

After the drama was over, and tempers were more even, I stood my ground. In my eyes, we had both moved past the point of turning back.

As someone commented on the previous post, I never really conveyed the conflicts in the relationship in this forum. That was not unintentional. As much as I have used this space as a place to vent and to work things out, there are consequences to sharing everything. And that doesn't just apply to writing about it - it applies to talking to friends and family as well. If you tell your mom or your sister every time you have a fight, they're going to be a lot less likely to forgive and forget and think that you're not crazy for staying with someone when the fight is over. So I was trying not to completely poison the well here with stories of the bad times, just in case things were to turn around. But there were a lot of bad times. Too many.

Last Wednesday evening I came home from work and set to the task of convincing PC that I had meant what I said the night before. I told him that it had gotten so far past the point of resembling a healthy relationship that we both needed to walk away. Yes, it was his actions that spurred this particular timing, but it would have happened either way. That's the part that you all know about: the fact that I was unhappy and didn't see that changing. I took maybe slightly more of the blame here than I was truly responsible for, but like I said, I didn't want to talk too much smack about him. After some disbelief and denial and some attempted bargaining, we came to the agreement that he would move out by Saturday and we would do our best to end it like grown-ups.

And we did. And it almost made it harder. Did make it harder. It's so much easier to let go of something when you're angry. Then letting go and moving on feels like revenge and there's a power in that. But letting go of something that wasn't horrible all of the time, with someone who genuinely has so many great things about him: that was (is) hard. Much harder than I thought it would be.

He packed his things. He put them in storage for the time being and bought a plane ticket home to Iowa. He left me the most obvious and useful things: the couch, his TV (which is in the living room), the mattress. We rented a stupid movie and had one last dinner together on Friday night. We slept in the same bed one last time. Then, in the morning, I drove him to the airport.

We said goodbye. My heart broke more than I ever thought that it would, after all that we had been through. It was hard then, at that moment, to remember the bad times. Hard to remember why I was intentionally cutting out a piece of myself and sending it away. But I did it. Still am doing it.

Lyrics of the Day

"The last time that I saw her she was picking through which records were hers. Her clothes were packed in boxes, with some pots and pans and books and a toaster. Just then a mouse scurried across the floor… we started laughing ‘til it didn’t hurt. " The Good Life Album of the Year

Things Fall Apart

So it turns out that it wasn't just me. And it wasn't just PC. It was both of us. Like baking soda and vinegar. And we homemade-volcano'd ourselves right into the end of our relationship last week.

We had a bad night. It was a bad (Tuesday) night coming on the tail of bad Friday and Saturday nights. So much fighting. A broken cell phone. Middle-of-the-night bike riding. Dwindling hopes of sleep. I may have even said that I wished he was dead, which I'm ashamed of and surprised at myself for.

Long-story-short (and I am going to make it short), things just went to hell and they went there for the last time. I stayed in a hotel room that night. The next day, I told him that it was over.

Lyrics of the Day

"So I thought hell if it's over, well I had better end it quick or I could lose all my nerve." Matchbox Twenty Rest Stop

And She Lived... Ever After

Prince Charming and his white steed have left the kingdom.

I am alone in the castle now.

Lyrics of the Day

"I love you so much, it's so bizarre, a mystery that goes on and on and on. This is the best thing and the very most hard, oh, we don't get along. After countless appeals we keep spinning our wheels on this mountain of new fallen snow. So I let go of the catch and we are over the edge. You have left me nowhere to go." Shawn Colvin Shotgun Down the Avalanche

Wandering Eyes

So part of the problem with my quandary over the future of my relationship with PC is becoming more and more apparent to me as I find myself settling in here in Florida. I can't help but wonder if there is someone else out there with whom things could be easier. Or at least someone with whom I could feel more compatible. Then that thought will yo-yo me back to the idea that it's really me and my intolerance for anything outside of my own comfort zone and there will never be anyone anywhere that could do everything Just-Right-Enough to make me happy. But I can't help but wonder...

I've always been a shameless check-out artist. I think it's nice to be checked out, so why shouldn't you stare brashly at the hot guy in the next car - it should flatter him. It flatters me when I'm stared at, so I figure I can return the favor. Of course, this is a habit that I've curbed somewhat since I've been with PC: out of respect and because he's way more of the jealous type than he'll admit to himself. He hates it when I talk about my actor crushes. But as The Mother always says, "Just because you're on a diet, doesn't mean you can't look at the menu". (I'm just realizing now what must be the myriad of grammatical mistakes in that sentence, but that's how she says it.)

It's not that there is a wealth of hot, single, young guys in Southern Florida. Especially not right now, when we're in what's called Season (or The Season) and all the snow-birds (translation: retired folks from northern states escaping winter) are down here clogging up the roads and filling up the Olive Garden parking lot. But my eyes do start to wander a little, mostly when I'm out alone, and sometimes the dissatisfied part of me feels just a little bit excited at the possibility of being single again one day.

Lyrics of the Day

"Untie me, I've said no vows. The train is getting way too loud. I gotta leave here my girl, get on with my lonely life, just leave the ring on the rail for the wheels to nullify." The Shins Gone For Good

My New Look

I have been dragging my feet on joining Modern Times with my blog template - but today I have done it. So things are essentially the same, but the colors are more pleasing (seriously, I'm not sure how I picked something so pink in the first place). Also, you can now easily follow my blog if you're a blogger yourself.

If you're REALLY bored, you can go visit my other upstart of a blog. I'm using it to ruminate on random happenings in the world, with a bit of a focus on TV and football. If I can use my spare time to build a little sample of how great I am at ranting incoherently, it could just become something I could parlay into a legit sports or entertainment blogging project. The web is somewhat lacking in women who speak semi-intelligently about football and I would love to fill that gap. So I'm going to be working on updating it more regularly, but it probably won't become an every-day thing as I just don't really have time every day. But, like I said, if you're bored you can check it out. There's a lot less whining and sniveling about feelings on that page.

You're Not Listening

Lyrics of the Day

"Smeared black ink, your palms are sweaty, and I'm barely listening." The Postal Service The District Sleeps Alone Tonight

Wandering Mind

I think that I wrote last time that I've been semi-silent because there really isn't a lot going on now that things have settled down post-move. That is mostly true. But there is another reason that I haven't been writing much and I'm going to suck it up and not be a coward about it.

I started this blog as a whim - nearly three years ago now. I thought it would just be a fun writing exercise and something to help me reflect on my dating experiences. I never really thought that anyone would read it. And I realized that the more people were reading it, the more I wanted people to read it. But then the knowledge of the people reading began to affect the writing. I went through phases of extreme self-consciousness, some misguided attempts at being "edgier", and long periods of silence. Now I am realizing that I am holding back from being completely honest because I know exactly what some people are going to think and to say about what I'm feeling and what I'm doing. But it's a little bit chickenshit of me to let that stop me from doing what I need to do here: vent a little and ruminate out-loud, as it were.

One of my girlfriends (well, not just one - many. It's starting to feel like all of them lately), LAJ, is getting married. She's running off to Scotland with her fiance next month and they'll tie the knot. She's been through her share of bad relationships and has been with guys before that she thought she might marry. So I asked her recently how she knew that this guy was one that she wanted to commit to. I don't know if I really thought there was any other answer, but the one I got was the one I expected: she just knows. She feels happy and secure and loved and accepted by him. She feels they balance each other and the relationship feels right. I mean it's the most basic stuff in the world, but stuff like that seems like such a mystery to anyone outside of it.

Here's the thing: It was easier before. It was easier back in the Ohio Days, when PC was the one causing trouble in the relationship. It was easier then for me to think that things could change and that the relationship might right itself eventually. But PC has really made a huge effort and is really beginning to have his stuff together. And he makes sincere and progressive efforts to respect my requests as far as living together (with our own belongings) goes. Occasionally there is stuff that happens and arguments that are his fault, but it's really just the normal crap.

The one thing that can't seem to change is me. Maybe I've been the problem all along. Maybe I just focused on all the other stuff that was going on to deflect the inner knowledge that I didn't fully have the desire to be in the relationship in the first place. Maybe I'm broken. Or maybe it's just not the right relationship for me. How can I know?

This is where I expect to get jumped on. I know that it seems like I'm leading PC on, or that I'm being unfair to him. The problem is that we've had that very conversation. More than once. More than 3 or 4 times. I tell him exactly all these feelings and doubts and that I can't see this lasting for the long haul and that he's going to hate me so much more if we continue to be together for another 6 or 9 months and then I still break his heart. But nothing that I say seems to change his mind. That can't be healthy, in and of itself. He truly believes that we are going to work out and that now we're here in FL things are just going to improve. He would rather give it what he says (though we've both said this before) is one last chance while we're sharing a lease and settling in. He would rather keep trying than to protect himself. But then again, I'm not sure he has really tried to envision the true end of the relationship anyway - so the idea of us breaking up (completely and finally) doesn't hit home to him.

I don't know. I don't know what to do. I do still love him. But I'm not sure I'm in love with him. That is stupidly cliche and I can't help but hate myself a little bit for typing it. I'm sure I sound like a vapid, self-absorbed, entitled bitch right now too. It's my instinct to care what people think, even if those people only know me as a figment of internet imagination. So I can have the desire to sugar-coat it for all of you, but I'm not going to lie.

Lyrics of the Day

"I don’t believe we need love to succeed, but the least you could do is pretend. Either you love me or you leave me don’t you leave me on this picket fence." The Good Life On the Picket Fence

Me

There are times when I think that it's all me. All of it. The good things, the bad things, the ambivalent things. How much of the ebbs and flows of my relationship are purely due to my hormonal fluctuations and the fact that I seem unable to either control or mask them?

I haven't written this week, well, because nothing has happened. And I'm not sure that anything will happen in the near future. The excitement and adjustment of the move are over and now we're (I'm) just coasting. Just waiting to see what will happen next, if anything at all. I've thought, more than once in the five weeks that we've been here, that maybe I should go back to chronicling everything like I did in the beginning of this blog. Maybe I should put every nook and cranny out there to exercise my writing muscles and to give you a more complete picture of what every day life is like between PC and I. But then I'm just not sure that I'm ready to expose that much truth - be it ugly or pretty in the end. But what else is actually going on?

The problem is, I'm back to where I usually have been (not counting those initial excitement/lust-fueled months that PC and I were dating), which is back to not knowing a goddamn thing. I don't know if I want to get married. I don't know if I'm really ready to be settled down. I don't know if I want to (or even could bear to) have kids. I don't know if everything that I have in my life right now is enough, or if it's everything that I want.

I don't mean to sound ungrateful (which I'm not) or selfish (which I most certainly am), but there are just so many "ifs" and "buts" in my head all the time. I wrote a friend this week that I still think about all the possibilities that would be involved with meeting another guy. But I also wrote that there are so many things about PC that I don't think I would find again. And isn't the grass always greener until you're on the other side of the fence?

Lyrics of the Day

"Then it started getting dark and I trudged back to where the car was parked, no closer to any kind of truth as I must assume was the case with you." Death Cab For Cutie Bixby Canyon Bridge

Addendum

I feel like I am not done writing yet.

There is a Danger in my brain. It's not just the half-bottle of wine speaking (that's a normal night for me, wait until I finish the other half), it's a Thing that bubbles in my neurons and I don't feel like I can control it all the time. I hardly ever control it. I think that it mostly It controls me.

Maybe it's just the Loneliness.

I hope so.

Lyrics of the Day

"So why do I get so lonely, when there really ain't nothing wrong. Cause I can sleep just fine when you hold me, can't sleep at all when you're gone. And why do I stay out drinking, when I should just get back home? I guess the company of strangers is better than drinking alone." Joe Purdy Why Do I

Starting Over

Well, it took almost three weeks exactly, but it's come to this: I've gotten lonely.

I forgot what this was like. I remember, intellectually, that it took me more than two years to really start finding true and valuable friendships in Los Angeles. But emotionally, being here and knowing that I'm not just in and out in three months or so - it's more of a struggle than I was really anticipating.

I've been on my own almost every night this week, with PC working, and mostly I prefer it that way. I can come home and unwind, decompress and do my own thing. But I'm feeling more and more each night that weighty fact that I don't have my own friends here. I don't know anyone really, outside of my new coworkers. And don't get me wrong, my new coworkers are surprisingly cool and I know that we will hang out, but the lack of a friend or core group of friends is becoming apparent.

After all of this, this search for love and companionship, I'm in a relationship and I find myself longing for the thing that I've always had and occasionally took for granted: friends.

Is there some way to internet date for friends?

Lyrics of the Day

"You've got a new friend. Likes to go movies, likes to drink red wine. A film school drunk can be so hard to find." The Good Life A New Friend

Changes

I've been absent, and during this time, so much has happened.

I've finally done what many of you have been suggesting - you not knowing exactly what I was doing career-wise and why I was doing it. The traveling job gig was good, but in November I saw an online posting for a permanent job that seemed too good to pass up, so I sent my resume in.

Long-story short I interviewed for, and accepted a permanent job in southwest Florida (where it's WARM). Last weekend, after a nearly-3000 mile trek from Montana, PC and I arrived in Fort Myers, Florida to put down some roots and really see how things will be.

Pertaining to my last post: I think that I was displacing feelings. It's very difficult for me to compartmentalize completely and I tend to take just about everything out on whoever is around me at the time. Unluckily for PC, he's always there and is an easy target for my negative emotions. Though I'm still not sure how (or if) things will go for us, I'm now more conscious of where my feelings are coming from and try to check myself when I'm being unnecessarily negative. This is not to say that I'm completely sure about us now, but I'm now being more realistic and I'm willing to see how it plays out from here.

As you know, we have not really had a chance to test the relationship in any normal-life situation. Beyond the usual relationship trials and tribulations, we've had innumerable outside stresses that have made things tougher than they probably would have been had we met when we were both in stable situations. And it is entirely possible that I am off-base and that things will still be just as difficult and as much of a struggle now that we're going to be settled for the foreseeable future. But maybe not. Maybe this stability will show me (and us) that we really do want to be together and that we can do it realistically in a real-life setting.

So now we're in a wait and see situation. We are settling (as of last Saturday) into this beautiful place, with amazing weather (there's a cold-front moving through - it may get down to 50 degrees! And that's COLD for SW FL.), and great people so far. I'm liking my new job, PC has a job or 3 so far and it's ridiculously cheap to live down here. I'm hoping that I like it enough to look into buying a house toward the end of this year (while the market is still tanked) and we're going to take this time to see how the relationship is really going to play out. I can't lie. I can't tell you that I'm sure that it will go either way. But for now, things are pretty good and I'm willing to give it a bit longer to feel sure that I know which way it should go.

Lyrics of the Day

"Well she tapped me on the shoulder, she said, "Lets go inside, 'cause I've been looking all day long for someplace good to hide. We can ride it out, we can ride it downtown." Joe Purdy Cinderella and the A-Train

Of Death and Dying

Tonight it just occurred to me that I might not be as in-control of my own thoughts and emotions as I think I am. Once again I, horribly ashamed of myself, am watching Grey's Anatomy and crying for little to no reason. And I'm thinking how I've got to find a way to break up with PC and make him understand the reason and then I sort of have a realization.

What if all this stuff that is going on with my dad is changing the way that my brain is trying to process my relationship?

Things have been pretty good. Especially in comparison to how they were in Ohio, things have been quite good. PC is pulling his own weight financially and giving me more space (he's actually out right now, allowing me to cry and watch Grey's and write) and we're hardly ever fighting. And yet, I'm apathetic. I look at him and I know that I have feelings for him and I still feel like being with him is more of a burden than being without him. It's not fair. It's horribly unfair and yet I know that I'm doing it and I keep doing it.

We even talked about it. I told him how I'm feeling and how it's not fair. Somehow he doesn't agree. Somehow he thinks that this will pass and that we will work out.

Inside of me, I know this isn't true.

But what if I'm wrong? My father is dying - however slowly it's happening - and it's almost harder to watch what it's doing to my mom than it is to watch what's happening to him. She has to be strong and be the rock and still know that the man she's spent nearly 35 years with is going to be gone. How can anyone want to commit to that? How could I really want to commit my life to someone when this is how it turns out?

I don't know. I don't know what's behind my feelings. I don't know if they will resolve or change or whether I'll keep coasting until I realize that's all I'm doing.

Lyrics of the Day

"It's all the good that won't come out of me and all the stupid lies I hide behind. It's such a big mistake, lying here in your warm embrace." Rilo Kiley The Good That Won't Come Out