Thursday, November 06, 2008

Words Are Worth A Thousand Pictures...Sometimes

Throughout the course of this blog I have been contacted a few times by people interested in interviewing me. I responded to each that I would be happy to answer any questions they had but I would not be photographed or video taped. All but one lost complete interest in me. Funny how what I have to say about being a virgin suddenly loses its value when you can't see me actually saying it. At any rate, the most recent email was from a comedian named Ian Coburn, author of the book "God is a Woman: Dating Disasters" and the blog http://www.lunchisnotadate.org/. He still cared what I had to say and asked me some thought-provoking questions, my answers to which I hope provide another insight into my character as contradictory as it may be. I am grateful to him for the opportunity to answer questions I might not have thought to ask myself...or perhaps answer myself honestly without a second party to bear witness. He was also gracious enough to post all of it, but because I can't say anything in ten words or less it's going up in three parts.

The first is here.

The second is here.

The third is here.

Feel free to comment or email me your thoughts!

Monday, November 03, 2008

A Pap Smear A Year Keeps The Doctor...Near?

Well...I got my shiny, happy flower postcard! Woohoo!

Pap smear - normal
Gonorrhea/chlamydia - negative
HPV virus - negative

The second test I forgot about was the HPV test. My doctor told me it's done when you hit 30, but I had to look it up again to remember why. HPV is the virus that has been linked to cervical cancer and the test determines if the virus is present while the pap smear is the test that determines if there are abnormal cells, which the virus causes. Apparently 30 is when the risk for cervical cancer is at the highest. There is a very small percentage of people who aren't sexually active who have HPV in their system, but a majority of cases are transmitted sexually. I've read on a couple different sites that a very high percentage of sexually active people (including men) will have HPV at some point, but probably don't know it for lack of symptoms. The only obvious sign for both sexes is genital warts, but for women sometimes a positive test result is the only way they know. According to the CDC website there are 40 different types of genital HPV.

The controversy over whether young girls should get the HPV vaccine gardasil is ongoing. Merck's big push with their 'one less' campaign is frankly insulting but I digress. Any drug company that lobbies to have their product be a requirement for 6th graders, (6th GRADERS!) is suspect, and yet, they still managed to bag 339$ million in sales for their last quarter last year. However, sales for a number of their drugs are falling off which isn't making the good old boys at Merck happy. Thousands of people will be getting pink slips, not in response to their flat "disappointing" sales or the crumbling economy of course, but because the higher ups want to restructure.

A common search for women finding my blog is 'do virgins need to go to the gynecologist?' I wonder if after reading the posts about my few doctors appointments they are encouraged or deterred. Though my very first visit wasn't ideal, it really wasn't that bad and in the long run I'm glad I went. I obviously never worried about actually having STDs or being pregnant, but there was always a gnawing feeling that I should get checked out just to make sure everything was healthy. Virgin or not, it's important to go because not all symptoms are obvious nor are all causes of problems sexual. I'm not trying to scare anyone into going, god knows that never worked for me and I loathe to be in Merck's company, but it kind of allows you a more peaceful state of mind. It actually made me feel a little more adult about my sexuality because I was recognizing and taking care of my sexual health.

So to all my virgin readers who haven't gone to the gyno yet, make yourself an appointment! Don't be nervous about how it will feel because it passes quickly and is worth it in the end. The hardest part is just being that exposed. I wasn't sure how to pick a doctor either, so I found some names from my insurance's directory and looked them up online. Oh the age of instant information! Some had bios and info on where they practiced and even had comments from patients while others had nothing at all. For me it was important to find a female who had been practicing for at least 10 years but not on the verge of retirement either. The one I ended up with was actually not the one I (thought I) made an appointment with, as she was with a group who all had varying office hours. I assume because I was a first time patient that they just scheduled me with whoever was free. I'm not complaining because I really like her and who's to say I would have felt the same way about the other doctor? Check the sidebar for a link to vitals.com for a doctor search in the US!

When you get your shiny, happy flower postcard you'll be glad you went. And if you get a call instead, at least you will have the chance to treat whatever it is. Just please do a little research on any drug you are encouraged to take. I am not anti-drug on the whole, because I know and have seen the great results they have, but it's still run by an industry that's in it for the money, not your health. Much like most HR departments are in it for the company, not you. But I'll put the cynic away now.

Yay for pap smears!

Friday, October 10, 2008

...We Interrupt This Regularly Scheduled Whine for a Defensive, Incredibly Profane and Irate Open Letter to That Random A**hole on the Street...

Dear random a**hole on the street:

When I stepped onto that curb and looked behind me in utter shock, it wasn't because I saw a 'brown man' and was scared of the stereotypes that surround your ethnicity. When I stepped onto that curb, there was no one around so when I felt something hit the back of my heel I thought a grocery had fallen out of one of the 10lb bags I was carrying. When I turned and was suddenly head to chest with your stupid a**, it completely surprised me. I was expecting a nectarine and instead was faced with you. The moment after that of course I was scared of you, you ignorant f*ck, you stood a head taller than me and were walking close enough to step on me. Why wouldn't I suspect you of something? There was NO ONE ELSE on the goddam sidewalk, why did you have to be so close?

Then you went into some kind of rant, throwing your hands up and looking back at me like I had done something wrong. You assumed I was scared of you because of your race. F**k you, you d*ck. I could play the race card too, 'cuz if you hadn't noticed, which you didn't due to your pointedly defensive reaction, I am a minority too. I could say you targeted me because the cops wouldn't care all that much if something happened to a brown girl like little old me. But I'd never do that because I'm not an a**hole.

I won't apologize for being female and worrying that a large male walking very close to me when no one else is around might do something to me. Have you been living under a f**king rock? According to the US Department of Justice, in America a woman is raped every 2 minutes so how dare you try to make me feel bad for fearing for my safety around you because of your own dumb a** insecurities about being a minority. I would have reacted THE SAME GODDAM WAY to a strange man of any race who was way too close to me for no reason.

Read the news. Learn about personal space. Walk in a woman's shoes for a day. Get a f**king clue, and while you're at it, get over yourself. Women don't look at you like that because you're a minority, they look at you like that because you're an a**hole.

Sincerely,
QV

...And now back to our regularly scheduled whine...

Sunday, October 05, 2008

Too Many Teardrops...

I cried in my sleep one night a few weeks ago. I dreamed it was the end of the world, happening both right at that moment as well about to happen. It is so strange how contradicting events can occur simultaneously in dreams isn't it?

In one scenario, the earth was literally cracking and opening with me on one side and my parents on the other, and in the other scenario, I somehow just knew the world was about to end and my parents were so far away I wouldn't get to see them before it did. I'm not sure if there were people around me screaming, or if it was because I had two events that couldn't possibly happen at the same time happening at once, but it was extremely loud and chaotic. The type of loud that becomes muffled because your ears can't handle it. I was crying so hard it turned into silent heaving sobs, where my chest actually ached and I could hardly breathe. There was no fear of death, but instead an overwhelming sense of loss...I guess the kind that can make a person cry that hard, unconsciously in their sleep. I woke up without opening my eyes and felt the tears streaming down my face.

Who does this?

The most obvious interpretation is that I am having separation anxiety from my parents despite being away from them for 7 years now, or simply that I miss them and am worried about them as they are getting older. I only get to see them twice or so a year so that's understandable, but the armageddon part? Do I have to be such a drama queen even in my sleep? Give it a rest sister, it's no wonder you're so exhausted.

But I looked up a couple different dream sites to see what the running theme among them was, and they all said it was an emotional release. No duh. That's what crying when you're awake means too. But one online dictionary continued on to say it was a way to regain an emotional balance due to the suppression of feelings you don't want to deal with during the day. In a dream state there are no defenses to stop them from making a full-fledged appearance.

Who knew defenseless could be a good thing?

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

The Tide

"Save me
From the ranks of the freaks
Who suspect they could never love anyone"
-Aimee Mann



I went to visit my BFF and her baby boy recently. As you know from my previous posts I've been tired and listless lately, but I wanted to see them so I made the effort. She was really excited for me to come, but I'm not fooling myself. I knew that 80% was because it gave her a break from the baby (her husband watches him when I'm around) and 20% was to actually see me. Maybe 70/30. At any rate I know that I'm a kind of distraction so I try to act the part. Admittedly I was using the visit as a kind of distraction myself, so all's fair. She's always been extremely perceptive of changes in my behavior, but I figured she's been so cooped up and depressed about her life lately that she wouldn't really notice. I tried but I couldn't muster a lot of energy. We drove out to the mall, something I haven't done in ages so it was fun and a nice change of pace for me. I usually hate shopping to begin with, but lately it seems I can't even find staples that I like so it makes it ten times worse. There is nothing remotely wearable out there (if you have any taste that is). Everything is either uglier than sin or doesn't fit in any way shape or form. It's depressing.

Anyway, I found myself kind of slowly going down throughout the afternoon. Maybe being with her reminds me of how I was when I was a teenager (we've been friends for 17 years) and how nothing has really seemed to change for me since then regarding my alone-ness. I'm not unhappy where I have landed, and in terms of career and friends and location I'm where I want and thought I'd be. It's just that one aspect that always drags me down. Perhaps it really just comes down to not reaching a long time goal, finding love with someone I connect with on such an intense but comfortable level, that makes me feel I have somehow failed. Maybe more so myself than anyone else's expectation.

During the course of our conversation she asked if I thought I'd ever get married. I kind of stumbled over a reply that came out something like 'well I'd like to you know'. And then she changed the subject. There was no lead in into that question either so it struck me as kind of odd, not that she asked because we talk about this all the time, but how it came and went with no explanation. She went on to talk about going to her college reunion, which I realized will be 10 years for me too next year.

QV: Can you believe we've been out of school for 10 years? it will be 15 for high school soon!
BFF: No. Well, yes when I look at (my husband) and grad school and the baby and where we've lived-
QV: (suddenly very aware of how little has changed for me) yeah...
BFF: We're also going to the benefit at (our high school) next month.
QV: Really?
BFF: I think it'll be a lot of fun with (the baby).
pause.
QV: (suddenly very sad) I just don't want to get involved.
BFF: With the benefit?
QV: With the benefit, with...everything in general. (pause) I think I may be kind of a little bit depressed.
(we both laugh a little)
BFF: I'm naming my first album that. Maybe kind of a little bit depressed.
QV: You know what I mean though. It's not debilitating, it's just there all the time-
BFF: Why?
QV: ...I don't know
BFF: Of course you do. People who know they're depressed usually know why they just have a hard time admitting it-

I hate that she's always right. She works in the field so there's a reason for her always knowing, but her knowing that and knowing me, she knows why. She just wants me to say it so I can make the problems real by saying them. Or at least get started on recognizing them so I can try to figure out what to do to change things. So I think anyway.

I wanted to say I'm just so sad, but I knew if I tried to make a sound at that moment it would only come out as a sob. I turned my head and looked out the window to hide my eyes glassing over. She said 'it's a lot of pressure, doing all you've done by yourself'. That made the tears sting even more. I'd never thought of it like that. Since I was a kid I've put more pressure on myself than anyone in authority ever could. I wanted to do well in school, I wanted to be a good friend, I wanted to be the peacemaker among peers, I wanted to make my parents proud. I earned myself the start of an ulcer when I was 16 because of it. I've learned to relax since then...albeit only a little here and there, but maybe that pressure to be all that I wanted to be is finally caving in on me. I have everything I want, except one thing: someone to share it all with. In terms of self-pressure, that's a heavy load of disappointment in myself.

BFF: Do you think you should get some help? (she asks for the third time)
QV: (opening the car door) Yeah, not going to happen. (shuts the door and peers through the window) I'm not yet sitting on the edge of the bed staring at the wall. When that happens you can call for help.
BFF: (laughing) Right. Ok it's a deal.

On the train home I couldn't hold them back anymore and I let a few tears slip down my face. There is an all encompassing sadness that can envelope you in a public place and make you feel invisible if you just turn your head toward the window. Inside the tears are weighted with self-pity and sadness, out there they just water the grass. Oddly enough, sometimes remembering how small a grain of sand I really am makes me feel a little better. What seems so big deflates a little and the sadness eventually ebbs.

Here's hoping the next flow doesn't crush me.

Saturday, September 20, 2008

Grinning and Baring It

Well...the most dreaded day of the year, which now occurs annually, has come to pass and as per usual I survived it. (And I was unnaturally calm about all of it. It was nice to not work myself up into a tizzy for once.) After visit number three to the gynecologist, still in my juvenile mind I walked away thinking, I can't believe she is the only person who has ever felt me up. Those assholes on public transportation who 'accidentally' touched me don't count. Not that having my doctor squeeze the crap out of my breasts is any more enjoyable, but it's a lot more extensive and undeserving of dirty looks since she's only trying to keep me healthy.

Doc: (looking at chart) The last time you were here you were 29, so that makes you 30.
QV: (um...did you really just say that?) yes.
Doc: And you were not sexually active. Is that still the case?
QV: (pathetic kind of laugh) ogod it's obvious! yes.
Doc: We started you on the pill only to regulate your period.
QV: Yeah...but maybe some day...

Then the real fun began as the lovely speculum was brought forth.

Doc: This may hurt a little.

YA THINK? I must have been more tense this time, which is odd because I actually felt more relaxed, or she spent more time down there than last year because it hurt more than a little. (She did say she was going to do a second test now that I was 30, but far be it from me to remember what it was now.) Nothing unbearable mind you, but enough that I probably made it worse by tensing up the rest of my body. I've read in a few different places that it's only supposed to cause discomfort...unless you tense up. It kind of worries me because I know sex is supposed to hurt the first time and I wonder if I'll be able to do it if I have the option of saying 'get the hell off me'. Then again, I don't expect he'll be shaped like a metal speculum that is cranked open.

Overall, I still really like my doctor. I spent a total of about half an hour in the office waiting time included, which was amazing considering last year it was about 2 hours. I guess it goes to show no two exams are alike. Except that getting a pap smear is uncomfortable.

I am sure to receive my postcard with the results in a few weeks. Fingers crossed for the bright, blooming flowers.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Standing Still

I'm so tired. The exhausted kind of deep in your bones tired. I tell everyone it's because of this apartment thing and how stressful it is. The tired part of my exhaustion is definitely because of it. But the zombie-like going through the motions part is the overwhelming emotional coaster that starts in numbness, ends in numbness, but steamrolls through sadness, contentment and the crushing need to ignore it all on a daily basis. The question of 'what is it I'm meant to do' I was able to give up long ago in order to be happy with what I was doing, so why can't I do the same with how I'm meant to live my life? Why is that one so much harder to reconcile with how I'm living it?

I cried watching the news this morning. It happens every year. I only need to hear the newscasters mention the times the planes hit the towers to begin, and then full on streaming tears when the names are called out. And every year I hear a little tidbit from a speaker about a family member who perished before I have to turn it off, and it's always someone I've never heard about before. Today it was a man who the family member said used to collect left over food after business meetings to bring to homeless shelters. I think I actually felt my heart break.

The day after my watch stopped a few months ago, I stopped wearing one altogether. It's nice not to be so concerned with the time. But what if I wake up 50 one day with one devastating regret?

Why have I never loved someone?

Maybe I just need to stop pretending that because I'm ok alone, I can forget that life would be so much grander if I had someone to share it with.

I need to move. I need to be moved. And it has to happen soon...

Saturday, August 23, 2008

Reflexive Anesthesia

"I don't wanna be nobody's fool
I've played that part so many times before
How I long to be a shadow on the wall
I will make no sound at all
And when the sun goes down
The shadow on the wall
It cannot be seen at all"
-Brandi Carlile

According to an online dictionary "FAITH" is: 1 a: allegiance to duty or a person : loyalty b (1): fidelity to one's promises (2): sincerity of intentions

I think I've just realized why I feel numb so often. Aside from the constant routine of my daily life, which lately is very simply comprised of rising, eating, going to work, coming home, eating, going to sleep, I think I've lost my faith in people. (Or reversely, faith in myself to trust people?) So much of how we interact with others is based on faith. From every day acquaintances and co-workers to deep bonded friendships and relationships, our expectations of the people around us are that they b(1) will keep their promises no matter how big or small and (2) are sincere in how they act toward you. The bottom line being that they will not screw you over. When you think about it, this is a pretty amazing quality. The problem is, people fail. It's only human I guess. But I think my problem is that I've taken extra precautions to safeguard myself against feeling the effects of broken expectations.

I like to pretend that I'd be able to handle it if one of whom I consider to be a good friend where to somehow betray me at this point in our friendship. But deep down I know it would devastate me despite the wall that would immediately try to block it all out. This admittance is actually encouraging because it means I'm not as numb as I think I am. But...that wall...since I built it (which would be right after realizing my fault in the debacle with Jean) I just can't seem to take it down. It's become such a part of my life I don't even see it anymore, but I can feel it whenever someone new comes into my life and I can only see them at a distance. The odd thing is, no matter how much I reveal about myself (which admittedly is not usually a lot) I feel no closer. It's like a reflexive anesthesia to new people that makes me not care if they come or go no matter how much I like them. And often old people! Case in point, D. We were pretty good friends for a long while, granted the distance between us made it hard to really connect as we might have if we saw each other every day, but when he stopped writing it was almost like I didn't even care.

How have I come to be so cold?

Maybe with D it was more of an understanding that he had to let me go because I wasn't what he wanted me to be. I don't know, is it maturity that allowed me to just be ok with that? With losing a friend so that he could move on? Or is it this numbness? And even with my good friends...when the little expectations are sometimes broken (because after all we're all human, including myself) I still feel that wall, despite having actually allowed them into my heart. That sounds like a huge contradiction but no one ever said emotions were rational.

Though I've felt this numbness in the past, I think my present situation is acting as a magnifying glass over it. I've been under contract for a place to live for 6 months now, and during that time I've begged out of a lot of social gatherings because I want to save money. Of course, 6 months ago I did not know it was going to be 6 months and I'm starting to go stir crazy. I still don't have a close date because not all the paperwork and inspections are done and I just want to scream my bloody head off. I knew going in there was potential for it to take this long, but I apparently overestimated my virtue of patience.

I realized a while ago that I have placed a lot more on this move than just the expectations of a new residence. It has become a kind of symbol for change that I ultimately want to effect in my life. It will not only be a new place to live, but a new commute to work, new grocery stores to shop, new restaurants to eat in and so along with the physical change of pace I have it all worked out in my mind that I'm going to start doing things I always say I'm going to do but never do. Like exercise, see the sights, maybe join a club, get a cat and overall just get out more. I think living on my own will help this because there will come a moment, despite treasuring my alone time, when I will have had enough of myself and will want to be social.

But in the meantime, it feels like I've put my whole life on hold. Not going out, not spending money, freaking out about still not having a set date to which I can look forward to changing it all. It's such a nightmare. So I think I've kind of tried to numb myself to this now too. It's the only way I can relax about it. So I get up, I eat, I go to work, I come home, I eat, I go to sleep. All the while not really having to feel any way about any thing...It's been that way for too long now, so to break it up I did a somewhat impulsive thing and planned a little road trip next weekend with a friend. My last single friend in fact. It should be fun and a very welcome change to sleepless nights and tired days. For just a moment, I can take my life off hold.

But I wonder about this numb feeling...though I do think it's been magnified by what's happening in my life right now, the fact that it has been around for a while worries me. If I can't overcome this lack of faith in people, or in myself to trust people, how will I ever let someone in to share my life? I can only hope...another word for faith I suppose, that when I do meet someone I feel any kind of connection with he will somehow get in when I'm not looking. He will have to be quick whoever he is. And while I'm addressing him directly, where the hell are you? Don't you know you have some numbness to break though?

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

I Am What I Am

There are all kinds of reasons why people are alone. And when I say alone, in this case I am referring to people such as myself who don't actively repel people from their lives, are actually liked by the people around them, and yet are still single at an age that is deemed unacceptable to still be single. And that's not even including the whole virgin aspect of my particular singleness. What I have discovered is that only people who don't like being alone, or have never actually been alone, don't understand how people like me can somehow end up that way. What I have discovered is that there are a lot of people who don't like being alone. After all, it means being self-sufficient in every way imaginable: mentally, physically, financially...

I am on the opposite end of the spectrum when it comes to relationships based on need. I can't even imagine what that's like. The mere thought of depending on someone for my happiness makes me want to vomit (though that's not to say I would reject someone who could add to my happiness). So I guess I have to put myself in their shoes for a moment to understand how they could not understand that being alone and responsible for my own happiness is not as hard as it seems. Or even weird as many see it. The only reason why being in the shoes I'm actually in is better, is because one day I will be in a relationship and it won't be based on need. That's comforting for me because in order to fulfill need you have to take and when one side takes too much...Not that want is any less mutable, but at least I can hope for a maturity level that will view something such as a companion for life as an important want to contemplate.

The reason I am alone has most definitely changed over the years from fear to independence to depression to yearning for love, etc etc etc. Despite all the fancy articles written by people who are no doubt no longer virgins and scientifically researched (read: virgins polled on why they're still virgins) by corporations that don't really care (after all, what kind of a consumer does a virgin make regarding the sex industry? chastity belts?), no one has an answer for why older virgins (who aren't hard-core religious or in some way repellent to the opposite sex) exist. Or at least, the right answer. They all like to think they do, with the terms they coin i.e. involuntary virgin or sociopath, but it really seems like they're just trying to label us in order to understand us. We're a freak show they're watching under the big top. How did they get that way?

Ok so in reality I haven't read that many articles on virginity because I'm not really interested in the media's opinions about it. It is very disheartening to read quotes from assholes who are freaked out by virgins, I admit. Like every one of us is going to fall in love with and start stalking the first guy we sleep with just because he's the first guy we sleep with. (And vice versa for male virgins.) For all my posts about wanting to be in love, I'm not naive enough to believe my first time will a) be with someone I love wholeheartedly (it would be nice, but I'm not a fool) or b) make me fall in love with him or him with me. It's also irritating to read the latest theory about why I am the way I am wrapped up in a neat little new term. I also admit I fell for one of them when I read the involuntary virgin article on salon.com. I even blogged about it a while ago because I was actually excited to label myself for a moment. It makes me feel icky just thinking about it. When it comes down to it, for me it feels like they are the ones making the big deal about it, not me.

You might argue that a blog dedicated to the very subject would prove otherwise, but why did I start this in the first place? Because people were making me feel weird about being single and society was making me feel weird about being a virgin. I needed anonymous therapy to feel better. My only expectation of myself is to fall in love (which would eventually lead to the nixing of singledom and virginity) and it hasn't happened yet. Why is it so strange to have opted not to put love aside in order to fulfill the other two? Or should I say, to have just settled in order to fulfill the other two? Being in a couple and having sex makes you a "normal" adult but waiting for love (or at the very least some kind of real attraction) makes you weird?

I recently received an email from someone who had this to say (I hope he does not mind if I quote him):

"I think all human beings search for perfect love in one way or another. The difference is that, somehow, the majority finds "consolation prizes" or "silver medals" and grabs them in order to at least have a taste of paradise. But I fear...in our case we are aiming for the top prize and so we must be prepared to pay...Romanticism, loneliness, sadness are the price we pay for our…superior taste."


This is exactly the mode I have transitioned into...waiting for the top prize, complete with romance and passion. :) The fears of relationships and intimacy are still there, but have moved to the back burner so to speak. I have complete faith that when I meet someone I am interested in and attracted to, the fears will eventually dissipate. I know this because when I meet someone I am interested in and attracted to, I will actually want a relationship and intimacy. (I realize romance may be a side order, but if I'm already hoping for the gold...) It's the meeting someone part I am having a hell of a time with. It's not like I don't think about just going out and sleeping with the first guy who takes a second glance, but it wouldn't help any of the other issues. Though it might help with the panic I'll probably feel the first time I do it, having sex won't help me learn how to get into a relationship. I don't meet a ton of new people every day but yet I'm ok with waiting until our paths cross. Perhaps that's leaving too much to fate, perhaps it's just dumb. I don't know. But I do know a lot of people meet in the course of their every day lives, not actively attempting to meet people.

I'm a 30 year old virgin. I am the way I am because that's just how it happened. So be it. There are worse things I could be.

Saturday, August 02, 2008

To Have Sex, Perchance To Sleep

"Dreaming permits each and every one of us to be quietly and safely insane every night of our lives.
~William Dement

The dreams are back. Or should I say Hypnagogic hallucinations. (I looked it up, and I have had both the visual and auditory kind though not a narc, nor on drugs nor suffering from mood swings. Ok so it may just be a self-diagnosis, but I have all the symptoms! So at any rate, can it really all just be due to my anxiety about sex? Pathetic!) I must be stressed, which is nothing new, so why suddenly the dreams again? Enough. I'm tired of feeling like I'm being watched or having my mind read. The other night I dreamed my bed was transparent and people could see me in my underwear. It's ridiculous because number one, what? What the hell kind of dream is that? Number two, who cares if I'm seen in my underwear? Everyone wears it! Number three, the odd thing is I didn't experience a feeling of shame or embarrassment at having my body revealed (like it was when I was a kid), it's more a feeling of having people know something about me I don't want them to know. The fact that my subconscious is using the image of my naked body as a metaphor for my naked mind/heart...or my fear of revealing myself to someone is so pedantic I can't even stand it. I'm vulnerable in body and mind. I get it. As if my nudity could reveal something...like my virginity maybe? Could I be any more unimaginative?

I spoke a little about it with a friend of mine and she claimed it was exactly that: my fear of intimacy. I don't want to be vulnerable and it's taking the form of being watched (and lately being naked). She said, and I quote, "You don't want to let anyone in and you know it. It's what you do." I really, really hate that she's right. She's one of the few that has gotten in and even experienced the worst of it, and yet she's still around telling me my truths. I tried to claim it was just stress and the evolvement of these sleep hallucinations but she wasn't buying it.

Last night I dreamed I was topless at a beach resort. No one else was and I was trying to cover myself by crossing my arms, but like before not because I was embarrassed. In fact I was quite comfortable and kept forgetting and lowering my arms. I was more concerned with how people would judge me because I was topless. Like they would think I was trashy and just wanted attention or something. Of course people from work showed up and that's when I really started to stress. I couldn't find my hotel room and I ended up running all over the place, trying to follow this tiny map that was embedded on the back of the key. All the while trying to avoid being seen because I was topless. So weird.

As much as I have tried to deny it, the one theme through all of these waking paranoid dreams is that anxiety about people (mainly work people for some reason) knowing things about me I don't want them to. It's never directly linked to my virginity, but I guess I have to admit that it must be playing a part. There really isn't much that I'm hiding per se either, aside from my personal sex life, which really is no one's business anyway so what the hell? I don't know about their sex lives, why should they know about mine? Why would they be interested anyway? I can't figure it out, and I would like this obvious insecurity to stop manifesting itself in these ridiculous hallucinations. A full night sleep would be so heavenly...For godsake there's a war happening, people are starving to death, the climate is changing, whole species of animals are dying out...the world is basically slowly imploding. Seriously, why is my freaking v-card the cause of all my anxiety! Enough!

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Conversations With Mom Pt. II

QV: ...so there are some problems with the apartment I was looking at-
Mom: Well maybe you're just not supposed to live there.
QV: But I really like the place.
Mom: Yes but you know it's not the only apartment. There are others out there. Maybe you're husband's not living in that building.
QV: My what? I thought you'd given up on me.
Mom: You never know.

Sunday, June 29, 2008

Conversations With Mom

QV: ...so I'll go through all those boxes the next time I visit, and then the next time you come up to visit you can bring what's left.
Mom: I'm not coming up to visit.
QV: Oh? Never again?
Mom: Not until you get married.
QV: I am so not having this conversation with you. Do you want me to stop speaking to you?

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Meet My Island Boyfriend. He Has No Vocal Chords.



Sometimes I wonder if I would be better off stranded on a deserted island. Then I wouldn't have to wonder why I'm by myself, why everyone else wants me to be with someone, why I'm happy alone, why I'm sad alone, why I'm attracted to so few people, why I think there's nothing wrong with me, why I think there's everything wrong with me and most of all why fitting in is something I haven't wanted to do since high school and yet I still find myself wanting the things that would make me fit in. So to speak. Or am I just trivializing love because I've never experienced it? Where's Wilson when you need him?

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

I Lack Sufficient Data

"...Julie told me a Barcelona story of getting locked in the Parque Guell with her boyfriend after visiting hours. Here it comes, I thought. The first ex-boyfriend had been summoned. Soon the rest would follow. They would file around the table, presenting their deficiencies, telling of their addictions, their cheating hearts. After that, I would be called on to present my own ragged gallery. And here is where my first dates generally go wrong. I lack sufficient data. I don't have it in quite the bulk of a man my years should have. Women sense this and a strange, questioning look comes into their eyes. And already I am retreating from them, before dessert has been served..."
-Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides

I just finished reading this book and I thought it something to note how much I was able to identify with the hermaphrodite narrator. As an adult male, instead of a female child that is. Obviously not in terms of his struggle with gender, but with his lack of experience. And though the reason for his lack of experience is extremely different than mine, and comes with a whole different set of psychological issues, the awkwardness of that reality is very real to me.

I lack sufficient data.

There is pretty much no better way to say it.

I had the graceless pleasure of being hit on recently. I say pleasure because it's been a while and it was nice to be noticed, and graceless because as per usual too much attention makes me uncomfortable and I was mildly irritated at being disturbed. I was by myself reading a book when a guy stopped in front of me. He apologized for bothering me and asked if I knew of any good restaurants in the area, then moved on to places where good music was played, and before long was sitting on my bench. I knew as soon as he began talking about what kind of music he liked that he was not interested in finding an actual restaurant in which to eat, but I humored him. Mostly because I had no idea how to delicately remove myself from the spotlight when I clearly had no where else to be.

He talked a lot about himself and his likes and asked me a lot of questions, most of which I attempted to answer vaguely but as I cannot lie, honestly. (It would have been an interesting experiment to see what would have happened if I had lied, as you will soon see.) I never totally engaged him: I never closed my book and did not hold eye contact for very long (though I'm pretty bad at that anyway), but he was not deterred. I give him a lot of credit for being able to even attempt to pick up a complete stranger, sober and in broad daylight, but his routine though not familiar to me was transparent almost immediately. He picked the wrong girl on whom to try out his lines.

And here is how it started. He said, "I'm also into reading people's palms. You can really tell a lot about a person by just looking at their hands. It's fascinating." What my dear reader will not expect, is that I own a book of palmistry and am actually interested in reading about those kinds of things, whether they be real or not. Though my figurative eyes went a'rolling, my real ones maintained their cool. It must also be said that he did not come off cheesy or creepy in his delivery of this whole palmistry pick up. He possessed a natural ease which I think allowed me to continue the conversation without immediately running away.

By now we had already discussed two subjects that he was lucky enough to have picked to get me talking at all: music, which if he had stopped there he might have had a chance despite his attempts to impress me with the name dropping of indie and local bands I'd never heard of, and travel, though the conversation he had with a Japanese man which he repeated to me first in Japanese and then in English was enough to make me want to walk away. When he got to palmistry I had to hear what my "lines" revealed about me.

He was good. He was very good. Had I let myself, I could have almost forgotten the connection between before and after. That is to say, that just about everything he read in my palms was based on my answers to all his previous questions. If I had lied I'm pretty sure my lines would have made them truths. What tripped him up were the things he had to guess. He tried to flatter me, and bear with me because here is where my virginity and the previous literary quote come into play, and due to his own assumptions fell flat instead.

According to his reading, the fleshy part between my thumb and forefinger says that I am "a girl who is a generous lover." (He kept calling me a girl who and it was all I could do to stop from saying honey, I'm a lot older than you think I am.) He went into how he had an ex-girlfriend who would kiss a certain place on his neck because she knew it felt really good.

"What about you?"

Oh the request for way too personal information. Seriously I just met you ten seconds ago, so not long enough to tell you where my g-spot is. Hells if I know it myself, but I digress. Instead I tried to be mysterious while most likely revealing my absolute truth, "let's just say I haven't met the right guy who's found the right spot yet." Why couldn't I have just said I was a lesbian and ended the whole charade then and there?

At some point he also mentioned that I liked to take risks and perhaps was a little naughty when it came to sex. I could barely contain the bubble of laughter in the back of my throat, a) because he was so, so wrong and b) because did he honestly think that was going to work? I suppose it probably has for him in the past otherwise why would he try it again, but really. Hello? Even if I did like it upside down on a swing it's no business of yours. I believe if I had indulged him he would have gone into details. Instead and off what I can only assume was my badly masked embarrassed reaction he said, "I can explain if you'd like or we can skip it." I said, "yeeah. Let's move on."

Then he asked if I was a "nun or something."

Oh the strikes just keep coming!

When I was finally able to, I asked him the time and said that I had to leave. I stood up and he said, "ok, ok, but let me ask you one more question." I waited. "Would you like to maybe go over to a cafe for a drink and maybe chat some more?"

I looked him in the eye and said, "I'm sorry, I really do have to go."

"Really? Now?"

"Yes. It was really nice to meet you Pick Up Artist (though I did use his name) but I really do have plans." I held out my hand to shake his, and he let out a noise that sounded like surprised irritation. The only thought that crossed my mind at that moment was that's right player, you just wasted half an hour on the wrong girl. Had he let my hand linger there a second longer I would have dropped it and walked away, but he finally took it. And then I walked away. But as I did I gave him props. You're good. You're really good. You just picked the wrong cynic with too many issues to play your game.

Monday, April 21, 2008

Amor E Morte


I had some pretty dark thoughts as a kid. I don't know if it was normal because I never talked to anyone about them, but in retrospect it's weird to realize I thought about death when I was 7 years old. I'd never known anyone to die or had seen a dead person or had even known about anyone dying. And yet, I wondered what it would be like if I ceased to exist. What would my friends and family do? It was never an actual emotional desire to be dead, but it was still a curiosity that peppered my usually innocent thoughts.

Up through junior high I used to leave my room just-so, so that if anything did happen to me people would be able to tell what I was doing last. Coloring in my book, reading, listening to music, doing homework. Odd that that was what was important to me. I used to make lists in my head for who would get what: Lynne would get my music, Mae would get my stuffed animals, Tina would get my notebooks. I never regarded these thoughts as strange, though I never told anyone about them. They were always just kind of latently there. A passive kind of wonder at what life would be like without me.

I also had a 'feeling' that I would die young. In my thirties so I believed. Who knows what influenced me to think these things, or if they really did come from my own imagination, but this one stayed with me for a while. At least into my mid-twenties. If I was feeling dramatic it would be after I had married and had children, a tragedy for them, and if I was feeling melodramatic it would be just after I fell in love, more tragic for me that way you see.

Anyway I suppose like most things with me I kind of forgot about my 'feeling' after a while. The odd thing is though, I had it for such a long period of time and it never motivated me to somehow do the one thing on the top of my list of things I always wanted to do before I die. Like every hard-core romantic, all I've ever wanted was to fall in love.

How does that make any sense you ask? Coming from someone who seems to have the inability to open her heart?

Excellent question. If anything, I should have been first in line to fall in love with every boy who ever looked at me. After all, I believe love is something different for everyone. I even believe there are people who talk themselves into being in love and eventually believing it even if it's not true. And yet...and yet...never have I known, or talked myself into believing I've known, love in any other form than platonic.

I guess I missed the live fast part despite 'feeling' the die young. Or was I just being true to my independent self who always believed I'd eventually get the fairy tale love? Good things come to those who wait, good things come to those who wait, good things come to those who wait.

That got me through a lot of insecure times.

Was there a time limit on it?

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

The Field Experience

I decided to be social a few weeks ago and headed out for drinks with a bunch of colleagues. I ended up having a pretty good time, as I usually do when I make myself go to these things, and afterwards went home with a stomach full of warm fuzzies at how well-liked I felt. Or maybe it was the vodka. But I digress.

I chatted with Dee a female colleague of mine for a while and was asked something for the first time ever, right after she asked me something I've been asked thousands of times.

Dee: are you seeing anyone?
QV: nah
Dee: do you want to be?

I was caught off guard and had to think about it. After all these months of posts I still had to stop and think about it. Perhaps I'm not as open to it as I thought I was. I replied something like, "eh," but then went into an explanation of how hard it is to find a guy who's ok with a girl as independent as I am. At any rate, how not a lot of guys approach a girl as independent as I am.

She told me how after she was divorced years ago, she decided she was never going to get married again and is with a guy now who is totally accepting of it. They've been together nine years and have never lived together, at her request. I was fascinated and filled with hope, not because I want a guy who will love me on such specific terms, but because she managed to find someone who fit a pretty limiting bill. (Maybe he's always wanted the same thing, to love someone with a completely separate life, but it still goes to show any want has its counterpart...right?) My standards are high but not unreasonable. I'm willing to compromise...on some things.

She wondered out loud how it could be I wasn't with anyone because I was such a catch. I've never actually been called that before and it made me laugh. Though she can only guess what kind of catch I actually am (I have no problem saying I am a good catch..as long as you don't count all the bad habits I don't even know I have) I have to admit I quite enjoyed the compliment.

I eventually began talking to Kevin, a colleague who has made it known, at least to me, that he's a big fan of mine. Never in a weird, uncomfortable way, which is odd for me because usually when a guy who likes me but I don't like in return says nice things it makes me want to vomit, but still he does it. It is a little odd I suppose, and if anyone else ever really saw it they'd immediately become fifteen and start taunting me about it, but what can I do? I'm sure he's figured out by now that I'm just not that into him but I do think he's a great guy, a wonderful father and I love working with him. I just can't see myself with him.

It's funny because I have another colleague who just got divorced who I also like a lot, and I actually tried to imagine myself with him. He's on the opposite end of the life-style spectrum and I couldn't really see being with him either.

This guy though, I have no problem seeing myself with. But again I digress.

Me being me, after about two hours I was drained. Even being social with people I know and like is taxing for me, so I headed out. Before I left though I gave out hugs. I tend to want hugs when I get tipsy. I hugged Dee and another female colleague and moved toward the door. Gave Kevin a hug, then Simon who had just lost his job, then Rob and then Vikki. Then Rob complained that it was meaningless if I hugged everyone, so I gave him another hug. But then Simon said he's the one who needed the most sympathy so I gave him another hug. Then Kevin wanted another and then of course Vikki had to outdo them all by shouting "make out with me!" As juvenile as it seems, it made me happy. I felt a little bit like Sally Field. You like me! You really like me!

It's so silly because I know they all like me. It's mutual and always fun when we work together. I suppose it was just receiving an expression of it that's not really acceptable in the workplace that sent me home happy.

All in all I spent a lot of the evening talking about my personal life, which I despise doing, but didn't want to kill myself once. Course, I only stayed two hours...perhaps that's the magic number for me? Point is, I'm actually looking forward to the day I can actually talk about someone I'm seeing (despite my hesitation at the question). Then again, it's still a personal matter so I'll most likely keep the conversation short.

Saturday, March 29, 2008

"I've Given Up On You,"

the horse's mouth said.

What an odd saying.

But as it just so happens, that's where I heard it from:

It began as it usually does with us gossiping about family matters, the latest being another wedding. The conversation inevitably turned to me, not in an antagonizing way which it might seem written out, but in a way that made me laugh at my mother's logic and how she tries to talk herself into believing things when she clearly doesn't.

Mom: My friends always ask if you've found someone yet. I say no, but she found a place to live! That's what I tell them now.
QV: Oh?
Mom: Yes. I've given up.
QV: What does that even mean?
Mom: I have, I've given up on you.
QV: You have not given up on me finding someone.
Mom: You're not even looking!
QV: You know, you played a very big part in me being this way. What about all those years of, "you have to be self-sufficient"?
Mom: Well it's true! I was always worried about that...if something happened to your father what would I do? I wanted you to be able to support yourself if something happened to your husband.
QV: Can we talk about how insanely contradictive you are? You raised me on routine lectures about boys only wanting one thing and about being independent and then when I become a successful, single woman you complain? You were ahead of your time and yet completely stuck in it at the same time. You created a headstrong feminist without ever burning a bra.
Mom: I created a girl who just doesn't want anyone to invade her free time.
QV: That too. Now can you please just be happy with your masterpiece?

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Brutal

A reenactment of the inner monologue/conversation I had with myself last night after letting the engagement of one of my youngest cousins sink in.

.........so e's engaged. what is she, 20? what's wrong with me?
you did not just ask that.
i did, didn't i?
you're just particular.
that is extremely irritating. stop it.
what?
evading the issue by attributing it to a quirky character trait.
seriously? evading? i've beaten this horse past its afterlife at this point.
you're right. apparently there is a comfort in beating this particular horse.
can we stop talking about beating dead horses?
you started it with your whole waa waa still single-
don't say it-
why won't-
i said don't say it-
anyone-
stop!-
love me?
i hate you.
oh please. you know damn well you're right where you want to be.
and where's that?
happily single and content to complain about it internally while maintaining a mysterious air so no one knows what really goes on.
can you please shut up?
you know i'm right.
i'm going to sleep now.
but you don't have any milk for your cereal tomorrow morning.
dammit! i also have to go to the bank and cvs to get soap.........

Is it still any wonder?

Saturday, March 08, 2008

Fighting The Demagnetizing Affect

or How Left Brain Is Ruining My Life

There is a guy I occasionally work with who has suddenly come into view. He's one of those behind the scenes people who makes my job easier when they're on the ball, and harder when they get swamped and can't get to everything. The woman who used to work with him quit, so he has in effect taken over my 'account' if you will. I don't believe we've ever had a formal introduction, but I see him more often now and we know each other.

Anyway, the point is, I can't even tell you how long I've known him but in the last week or so I've suddenly found myself thinking about him. A lot. I don't know anything about him, except what comes at first glance.

1) he seems pretty mellow and soft-spoken (probably what made me take notice)
2) he's really cute
3) he's younger than me (early twenties?)
4) he's smaller than me (at least, I think. I'm usually sitting down when he comes by. At any rate, I usually go for the really tall, lanky guys. He's around my height or shorter but still lanky.)
5) um...I'm having quite a few lustful thoughts about what I'd like to do to him (though I probably wouldn't know how to carry any of it out.)

#5 is something new. In the past it's always been more of an academic kind of thing, where I had to almost concentrate on it. With him I'm just suddenly imagining it with no prompting. Is this what it's like to be a 16 year old boy? No wonder they can't concentrate on anything. They're imagining everyone naked all the time.

#3 and the fact that I work with him are what put up a huge wall. However, if he decided he liked me and asked me out, I wouldn't say no. However duex, I probably won't make any moves to give off any signals that I'm interested. This makes me an incredibly large hypocrite as I believe women should just ask out guys they're interested in instead of waiting for them to ask. I never said I was perfect. Though in my defense, I did make it a point to thank him yesterday for helping me out with what was a long, frustrating day. He smiled pretty big. Have I mentioned how cute he is?


But then of course, the left brain has to step in and say, maybe you're just thinking all this because it's been a while since you've found a guy attractive at all. Maybe you're not really attracted to him but you think you are because you think he's cute. Besides, your hormones are off, you cried last night at Running with Scissors for crappsake.

Why does left brain have to be so mean?

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Maybe He'll Even Know How To Cook

I'll be moving within the next couple months...in by myself.

I am absolutely thrilled to finally have my own place and extremely terrified I'm sealing the deal on spinsterhood at the same time...you know, since I like being alone and often prefer it after an especially long day of stupid, annoying people.

Maybe a fun, laid-back, successful, affectionate, gracious, animal-loving, humorous, sexy, well-rounded and handsome man with an accent who picks up his socks will live in the building.

And take a shine to me.

One can hope.

Sigh.

Sunday, February 17, 2008

Choose Your Own Destiny


When I was younger my mother instilled in me a belief in destiny. A predetermined series of events, there's a reason for everything, if it's supposed to happen it will kind of leaving-the-details-of-your-life-up-to-someone-else thing. Granted that someone else is supposed to be God, it strikes me now as an easy way out. Why should I work for anything if it's all in stone already?

But also, isn't life in the details?

If someone else is planning it for you, isn't it inevitable that a few will be missed? For those who believe God knows/sees/does/controls all I suppose the point is moot, but what about free will? The ability to choose between many options? Why would we be afforded those things if it was all planned for us anyway? That's a really mean trick I say. If this ends up being the case, we're presently existing under a pretty twisted higher power.

And yet...and yet...sometimes I can't help myself from reverting back to that childhood innocence of thinking if I'm meant to have a certain thing, it will come to me. It becomes a battle with my adult self yelling that if I want something, I have to work to get it, it's never just going to come to me. It gets awfully noisy in my head sometimes.

The choice is what ends up being so frustrating. Knowing about it anyway. I can choose to believe either side of the coin, and I usually do at my convenience, but in the end it only makes me feel like a wet noodle. Despite God's alleged hand in my life, I try to see everything as a choice. (I realize that kind of lends a hand to my already large issue with control, but so be it. At least I am aware of it.) I can choose to be angered by the asshole at work or I can ignore his pompous attitude and happily get on with my day. I can choose to be happy with my single status or I can lament not following the standard that has been set. I can even still choose to think that if I believe I'll get something, I eventually will. There's a difference between thinking it and relying on it as the way to live life.

The fact of the matter is I don't always choose the better option, but generally speaking I am happier. It also helps that other things in my life are going well, I admit, but why is it just misery that loves company? Why not happiness too?

So I guess in the end I choose to believe I get to paint the details. Although I didn't choose to exist, I get to choose how. It's a lot more work, which leads to the occasional if-I'm-meant-to-have-it-I-will thought, but the payoff is greater. I've earned it.

Saturday, February 02, 2008

The Great Debate

I went down to K's for a visit recently. She picked me up from the station.

K: Hi
QV: Hi
K: So...I think you should start dating.
QV: I agree.
K: (stunned silence)

We've had this conversation many times before, but this is the first time I didn't answer with some unintelligible sound which meant a) no thanks b) don't want to talk about it or c) Absolutely not.

QV: you know...one of the obviously many reasons that kept me from dating is this overwhelming fear of getting pregnant.
K: you have to have sex to get pregnant.
QV: thank you master of the obvious. I meant that in my mind dating always lead to sex which meant getting pregnant.
K: birth control.
QV: are you listening to me? It's not rational. Don't even try to tell me you don't have any irrational fears. Dating just always equalled sex to me.
K: that's because you're mother f**ed you up.
QV: she knows, she's taken some of the responsibility. But at this point I think we all know it's mine. I think if I had been someone else, I mean, if she had given all those warnings to another kid, it wouldn't have affected them the same way it did me. I was so overly sensitive to everything, no matter what she said it was true. When it didn't make sense to me I rationalized it in my own mind until it did.
K: you don't know that.
QV: no, but I still think it.

I can't help but wonder why things happened the way they did. Why all my life people have complimented me on both my appearance and my character and yet, only a handful of guys have ever approached me. How I managed to miss out on years of natural experimentation because I was intensely scared of sex. That's not to say I was scared of my body, because for some reason that was never a problem. But really, how did I manage to build walls so thick it's going to take some damn big explosives to take them down? Or is that just something else I tell myself to justify my single position?

It never bothered me before...having people think I'm a lesbian. I'm an extremely independent woman, I don't dress in lace, I listen to a lot of female singer/songwriters, I'm very pro-women, I don't talk about my sex life- easy for people to assume I must be gay right? Most of the time I don't give a rats ass what other people are thinking of me. Well, people I don't know anyway, I spent way too much of my youth worrying about that. But now that I'm 30 and still don't have a man? Well then it's practically confirmed. Really the only thing that bothers me about it (aside from the absurdity of people assuming that not having a man either means I'm gay or there must be something wrong with me) is that if everyone is thinking this, it lessons my already slim chances of actually meeting a guy. uh.

What bothers me even more is the fact that it sounds like I'm lamenting being single because I'm 30. I can't really see myself as one of those women who suddenly becomes desperate because she hit the three oh and is still single, and yet here I am talking about it. But in my defense, like the greys in my hair, it's other people commenting on it that is drawing my attention to it. I actually had to start dying my hair because everyone and their mother felt it was ok to tell me I had so many. I got sick of hearing it. Will I actually have to start dating because everyone will feel it's ok to tell me I need to settle down? Dare I bend to such societal pressure?

Outside of my closest friends, and this damn blog that I can't seem to give up, I don't speak often about this area of my life. People are fascinated by it. Case in point, there is a rumor among my friends at work that I'm seeing someone. I have no idea who started it or why, but because I won't say anything about it, they've gone crazy trying to figure out who it is. Because I won't talk about it they've decided it's someone at work which is making them even crazier. I find it all hilarious. I have a sneaking suspicion that one of my friends was trying to mess with me when he said he'd heard the rumor, which is why I decided to mess with him and clam up about it. Anyway, it's something to do at work. ;)

And then there's mom.

Mom: I showed my friends the pictures of you. They loved them!
QV: Oh yeah?
Mom: They're all wondering how you're still single.
QV: They need to find better ways to occupy their time.
Mom: They're wondering if you're a Les-
QV: Of course they are. It's the first place they go when they see me and find out I don't have a man.

I'm pretty sure that was a subtle asking, but that was the end of it. People have a really hard time understanding that it's not my first priority. Maybe that's really just all it is...all it has been my whole life. Both my parents were extremely influential in making education my very first priority, which then transitioned into getting a good job so I could be self-sufficient. With my latest promotion and some future investments in mind, maybe it's just a coincidence that now my priorities have room to shift. I still absolutely hate the idea of dating, and with any luck I'll be able to skip it, but I guess I have to admit that it has been on my mind....not just dating and finding someone, but the whole where I am in my life now. The last time I dwelled on it, I quit my job and ran off to Europe for 6 weeks. Although I'm dying to travel like that again, I don't feel the same need.

Then again, maybe a change of scenery would be good.