It's The Modern World. Man.

Scene: QV is walking home from work. A man comes up beside her, she barely hears him through her earphones. He is wearing them too.

him: what are the chances of my buying a beautiful girl such as yourself a cup of coffee?
QV: (realizing a voice is talking to her, she turns to him and turns away quickly) um...sorry, i've got to get home
him: c'mon, one cup.
QV: uh, no thanks?
him: what, you don't trust strangers who come up to you on the street?
QV: no
him: well what about if we stay in touch, you could give me your phone number or email?
QV: i don't think so
him: we wouldn't be strangers anymore
QV: if i see you again in passing we wouldn't be strangers anymore either
him: what are the chances of running into each other again in city of 10 million people?
QV: you never know
him: what are the chances that we're meeting now?
QV: i'm sorry
him: you really don't trust me?
QV: it's the modern world, man. (as she crosses the street) but i appreciate it.

It's the modern world man? Who the f just said that?

What just happened?

He didn't strike me as particularly sketchy, but in looking back at the conversation it was totally sketchy. He may have been on the up and up, but how am I supposed to respond to that? I say that with the side note that he was not attractive to me, and maybe a little off putting in a stereotypical way. He had a shaved head, baggy sweatshirt and a serious tone that altogether made me almost step into the street before the light had changed. If he had been cute, closer to my age and less serious would I have accepted? Can I say I might have and not sound like either a liar or a potential victim?

Can I also say that I had this HUGE grin on my face the entire conversation? I hate that that is my knee jerk reaction to discomfort. It's absurd!

It is the modern world. It has messed with the simple act of meeting strangers.

PS. Isn't it kind of ironic that I don't even drink coffee?

The Logic Of Trouble

During the last semester of my senior year of college, my favorite professor asked me where I wanted to work. My dream company. Having only ever been asked what I wanted to do, I was thrown completely off. I had never thought about where I wanted to do it. After thinking about it for only a minute, I said CC. I was surprised at how quickly I came up with the answer because I had no clue what I wanted to do. Seems the where was a lot easier to imagine than the what. Anyway, internally I laughed because I thought it was such a ridiculous long shot and set my sights...well not lower, but let's just say elsewhere. Amazingly enough however, by the end of the year I was working at CC. And I was ecstatic.

There has been one other time in my professional life that I said what seemed an impossible goal out loud and then over time actually achieved it. In retrospect I realize it was a combination of luck, timing and hard work that got me to all the places I've been in my career, and in a way it actually makes me sad.

Statistically speaking my personal life is a losing gamble; it contains only one of those ingredients. I've only ever had one impossible goal I've said out loud, but I spend no time meeting guys and I just can't work that hard to find him. And in all honesty if good luck is something you make or somehow attract, I might be on the losing end of that one too.

I don't know why I see it and still can't change it.

I wonder if this internal war has been fought for so long and is at such an absurd height because the opposing forces are of equal strength. I love my life the way it is: living alone, supporting myself, doing everything I want to do whenever I want to do it and selfishly not having to make any compromises or sacrifices. But life is to be shared, no? Wouldn't my life be richer with someone to share it with? Or have I been lured in by the myth of love?

The last few books I've read have been historical in nature and though I enjoy reading accounts of actual events, in most cases it doesn't help my neurosis about men. Generally speaking, from ancient times to our "civilized" times men have treated other men they find inferior like dispensable factory parts. They are used and then discarded when no longer functional. Poor men, men without weapons and uneducated men suffer at the hands of the richer, the armed and the political elite. And who suffers at the hands of the men who have been humiliated?

How this all pertains to me is a thinly stretched, righteous thread of the (incorrect) stereotypical definition of feminism: they are women, I'm a woman, we are connected and men at the most basic level are evil kind of thing- at the very least they only want one thing and will take it whenever, wherever they can. I know that. It's really just more fuel for my fear of men fire. But yet, you just can't ignore the way humanity's existence repeats itself...

This train of thought has so obviously exploded from something I found out about Red it's embarrassing (thus why i've tried to bury it). Apparently he got the number of another woman in the building from an invite she sent out for a party and one night he texted her asking if he could come by for a visit. They had never hung out before and she thought it was a little strange, but she had talked to him in passing and thought sure why not, he seems nice. He arrived with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

I laughed pretty hard when I found this out because honestly it's pretty hilarious. It is in no way comparable to the hardships the women of history have had to deal with, but in trying to connect the dots of my (somewhat ridiculous) logic sex is the common driving force behind men's behavior throughout time. In the meantime I've been flooded with doubt about my judgment. To this moment I still cannot outright admit he's a player and I was just part of the game. I've even made the concession that not all players are dogs. I just have to believe he's a decent guy at heart because if I don't it means I will never trust myself to make a good judgment. Which in turn means I will never trust any guy. Ever. Look how long it took me to find this guy! How are luck, timing and hard work supposed to follow that?

I am in trouble.

I am in deep, dark trouble.

Sigh.

Have you ever suddenly just been cold? From the inside out, no matter what the temperature outside? And you just know the only way to make it go away is to have someone's arms around you, warming you with their body heat and, if you would permit me my romantic heart, love?

I have.

Hey Guess What? Still a Virgin!

Disclaimer: this post is full of sarcasm and detail about my experience of being poked and prodded at the doctor's. If you are not interested in details, skip this one! (For women who haven't been to the GYN yet, this article is a pretty good description of what to expect.)

---------

Dare I say I have survived my third annual, fourth ever visit to the gynecologist? During which I again got to reveal my virginity?

I dare.

And aren't you just dying for a replay of it?

I knew it.

I arrive at the doctor's office. Fast forward to me sitting in that weird open-in-the-front gown with a white starched sheet across my lap. I wait. And wait. And wait.

I am SO going to be late to my 10:30. Did they forget about me? What's taking so long? Oh I think I hear her coming. Nope, just that elderly lady talking about having her breast implants removed again. Uh can you imagine being sixty with implants? Let's read the female genitalia chart on the wall for the fiftieth time. Why does the hymen exist? It's such a stupid piece of...what is it even? There is no point to it. It functions only as yet another burden on female sexuality. Something to break to let everyone know she either is or isn't a virgin. Stupid hymen. Where the hell is she? Can she just come in here, feel me up and then stick something up my hoohaa so I can get out of here? I am so going to be late to my 10:30.

My doctor finally arrives, apologizing for the wait, and says "let's review your last visit" a few times in different ways.
"You were 30 on your last visit, so we did the HPV test."
"Yes."
"Do you have the same partner?"
Um what? Did she just ask me if I'm a lesbian? Oh! Oh! No, that's just the politically correct way to ask if I've been sleeping with the same person as I was last year. Ogod. That's even worse. "Um...I don't have a partner."
"Oh ok."
Fast forward through other miscellaneous menstrual talk.
"So I'll do another HPV test and if it's negative we won't have to do one next year."
"Well, I don't know if it matters..." I totally know it matters. "...but I'm not sexually active so I don't know if it's necessary." It's so not necessary.
"Oh yes of course, it's written on the chart that you haven't been active, I'm sorry I should have seen that." Yeah. It kind of sucks to have to tell you repeatedly that I'm still a virgin. But whatever. "So we don't have to do that test if you don't want. I won't do the gonorrhea test either if you'd rather not. How does that sound?"
"Good. Thank you."
"Ok so I'll do the pap smear, a breast exam as well as a pelvic exam."
Fantastic. Let's do this.

She takes what feels like twenty minutes mooshing my boobs around and all I can say about that is I really hate having my boobs mooshed around. I'm very small and that much pressure is uncomfortable (not painful mind you), bordering on nauseating. I'm pretty sure most women are uncomfortable in that position, but the nausea is just a me thing. (It's psychosomatic.) It's like squeezing a water balloon in search of a marble you are sure someone put in it before they filled it, but just can't find.

Then we move down. Because I've been waiting so long and have kind of worked myself up, I must be tense. It hurts more this time than any of the previous times (but does not leave the residual discomfort I felt for a few hours after last my visit but that's probably because she didn't do the other tests) but I think I said that last time so maybe it's not really that bad. She apologizes because she can tell. All I can think is I've got to start having sex. Then she does the pelvic exam which clinically put means she feels the inside walls of my reproductive organs.

In closing she tells me to read the instructions that come with the pill pack and that she knows the exam was very uncomfortable but I made it through. I REALLY need to start having sex. Then it's all over and she's gone.

Then I'm running across a few avenues and cross streets and I'm 7 minutes late to my 10:30, during which I'm shoved between two guys, smelling like latex. Fantastic. I wonder if they're wondering what that smell is.

---------

On one of my last posts about my trip to the GYN, someone commented about how crazy Americans are about having all these tests at times when they are unnecessary, then getting false results and in turn having our lives turned upside down by it. While this may be true, I only know what I've been exposed to, which is the American health system and for that matter mind set (so you have to bare that in mind when reading my take on the subject). I just received a mailing from my health insurance saying women should start getting pap smears at 21, STD tests at 24 and HPV at 30, younger for each if sexually active. (I think they make a lot of assumptions about when sexual activity begins, but I may be biased.) And then I read information somewhere else online that said you don't need a pap smear until 3 years after becoming sexually active. It all comes down to how informed you are about all these different things that doctors do and don't do as well as your comfort level with applying them to your body.

In retrospect I think I made the right decision, that is to say waiting until my late twenties to start seeing a GYN because I wasn't sexually active. That might not be the right decision for you, but even if/when you do go to the doctor, you can decide what tests to take. Just remember to educate yourself and that you're in control!

Oh. Em. Gee.

Are you guys ready for this? Are you sitting?

I got a text from Red while I was on vacation last week, almost exactly two months from the night we were supposed to go out.

Him:

Hey! Are you home? I wanted to stop by... I realize I owe you a big
apology for skipping out on our date and not getting back to u
at all.

My response:

yeah that was a pretty shit thing to do. But in dropping me completely
u showed u were no longer interested. When I realized u weren't hurt
in a ditch somewhere

I lost interest too. I believe in 2nd chances so I hope u can show the
next girl who thinks you're cool that u are. See u around.


Harsh? Perhaps. I just have no use for that kind of bull shit. I haven't heard back from him, which is to be expected since my last text was pretty final. It's odd because after it happened I was all riled up and said I was done with him, but in retrospect if he had come to me a few days later or even a week later and tried to apologize I would have heard him out and probably given him a second chance. Two months later? I think not.

If I had let my curiosity get the better of me I suppose I could have heard him out now, let him apologize and then kicked him to the curb. But really, who has time for that? If you like me you like me, if you don't you don't. If you have issues, congratulations, so do I, but don't think I'm still going to be hanging around two months later. I am definitely not that kind of woman. Desperation is not in my repertoire.

Also, not getting back to me? Like it was a phone call about borrowing a dvd or something? Boy needs to work on his language skills. Even within a 120 word text. And stop by? I'm not even sure he's still in the building. Many units were repossessed and put back on the market. His included.

Ah well, in other news I just got back from a nice, long relaxing vacation in a tropical paradise. Sad I'm back, but for lack of a better cliché, my batteries have been recharged so I can soldier on with a smile. And a fabulous tan. So there's that. :)

Movies That Taught Me Nothing

Still haven't seen Red. Either he's avoiding me or he was making an effort to try to see me before. Either way it doesn't really matter because I haven't changed any of my normal routine in effort to avoid him. I'm back to enjoying being by myself (for the time being anyway). And due to that I don't have anything in particular to whine about. Heh. Give me a few days, I'm sure something will come up. So I'll do some movie reviews, those are always fun. Especially when the movie is a piece of [redacting redacted].

He's Just Not That Into (Boring Stereotypical Drivel)

I have absolutely no excuse for watching He's Just Not That Into You. And just to be clear, my bitterness about the absurdity of this movie was alive and well before I was stood up, so that has nothing to do with it. :) My friend and I figured it was going to be bad, so I guess maybe we watched to see just how bad it would be. We were both disgusted pretty early on, but too lazy to turn it off so we muscled through. I kind of wish we hadn't.

It's no wonder guys have this image of women as being desperate, pathetic emotional wrecks that become parasites when a little attention is paid them. All the main female characters in movies like this are written that way! The only one who was halfway normal was Jennifer Aniston's character, and she only got what she wanted because she was willing to give it up. What? I suppose you could turn it around and say well in the end he actually gave up what he wanted, but at least in terms of this movie he didn't seem to mind it and only decided to do it after losing her. But anyway, the point of it for me is this: This movie was crap. I don't have any female friends even remotely like the main female character. I never have. Even the girls who could never be alone and were always chasing boyfriends never acted like she does. Maybe the group of girls and women I've known is an anomaly but it was pretty aggravating to watch her. Then again, maybe there are women out there like that, and it's really just that I know I would never act that way that I was so irritated by her actions. She was completely devoid of self-respect and only gained it through, of course, a guy. Who she only starting liking (as more than a friend) after realizing he liked her. LAME. The only good thing was that all the women were self-sufficient in every other way. I realize this movie was supposed to be cute and fun and more about the drama that occurs between men and women in all stages of relationships, but it just could have been so much better. Selling this perpetuating stereotype of desperate women on the basis of "it was inspired by a line from sex and the city" makes me hate it even more.

And not for nothing, it didn't really portray any of the men in a great light either. One was a cheater, one was just kind of a dick and the other two were just eh. All in all? Out of 5 stars this gets 1/2 of one. And only because Justin Long is cute.

Strictly (Hardly Anything) Sexual

Ok, I fully disclose my reason for watching Strictly Sexual: I thought there was going to be some soft porn. I'd never heard of it and by the title and description: "Two successful women, sick and tired of dating and relationships, decide to keep two young men in their pool house for strictly sexual purposes" I thought I was in for a little look-see.

I was wrong.

[Just like the time I bought a movie called Mezmerized at the grocery store for $1.00. The description was: An orphaned New Zealand girl marries an older, wealthy businessman and learns to deal with his strange sexual desires.

Turns out he was a peeping tom.

SERIOUSLY? That was a definite waste of 94 minutes. It was insane of me to expect more for a period drama set in the Victorian era and made in the 80s that I paid $1 for but still. There is a dark, twisted underworld to those Victorians. I'm sure of it. But I digress.]

This movie was just ok. Aside from the fact that only one of the women was successful, the other one was just born rich, it ended up being just another relationship drama but with a different kind of start. (Though the way it ends isn't that bad...) The girls thought they were picking up male prostitutes, the guys thought two hot girls were hitting on them. Hilarity ensues. Except it didn't. The only thing that really stuck out was the one chick was bad in bed and knew it, and ended up having the guy try to teach her how to enjoy it. One of their sex scenes, which was shot from the neck up, was so awkward it started to make me anxious (because of course I put myself in her position). But I'm pretty sure I'm going to do more than just lie there, so I guess there's that. I've never been in a passionate relationship (obviously) but I think the other couple's portrayal of chemistry that just doesn't work was pretty good.

Out of 5 stars this gets 2. Really 5-3 because the title and description are total misleads.

Can someone please write a movie about a somewhat normal 30something female virgin who is looking but not desperate? Or is that too anti-stereotypical to bring in the bucks? Hello? Indie world?

That's A Wrap

It would seem I was wrong. Utterly, completely, 100% wrong.

At least now I have a hilarious party story. Should I keep you in suspense or just spill it? I'll give you a hint: it rhymes with shmood shmee shmup.

Let's take a look at the replay shall we? I apologize in advance for the profanity. It happens when I'm angry. I'm referring to myself in the third person (this time) because I'm hoping it will allow me to grow some perspective of which I may still currently be short.

-QV meets Red.
-Red casually and generally invites QV over any time.
-QV and Red walk to work a few times.
-QV subtly asks Red out, turns into him coming over to QV's apartment to hang out.
-A few days later Red texts QV one night asking her to come hang in his apartment. She does. Before she leaves she asks when he's free for dinner. They set a date.
-On said day, she doesn't hear from him so she shoots him a text in the late afternoon saying, "are we still on?" He waits until 1 hour before they are to meet to tell her that he's stuck at work, can he take a rain check? She playfully says "keep me in suspense why don't you?" and that it's no problem, but they'll have to go next week because she's going out of town. He laughs, apologizes, says he'd rather be having dinner with her than working and that next week it is if she must go out of town.
-The night QV gets back from a 5 hour train ride after spending three full days with her friend and her friend's ten month old, she gets a text about an hour after being home that he stopped by but she must be sleeping. If she is actually up he'd love to hang out. She texts back that she didn't hear him knock! But that she is actually really beat after the train ride and baby time, but when can he do dinner? He texts that it's only 9:30 and she is lame but how about Wednesday? Before she can respond he knocks on her door. Despite being exhausted, dirty and looking every bit of both, she answers. He wanted to see how hard he had to knock for her to hear it. She says ok, but is still tired and hasn't even showered! He says he hasn't either. She says Wednesday is great, let's get together then. He says ok, he understands.
-Wednesday comes. He never shows up.

Aaaand scene.

WHAT? What just happened?? Did he really just STAND ME UP? WTF? Who stands someone up anymore? With all the many modern, impersonal ways to blow people off, at least have the courtesy to let me know you've changed your mind so I don't wait around for hours wondering if you're ok. If he decided he didn't want to actually start dating me, I would have been ok with him telling me that to my face. I would have even remained friends if he wanted to, hanging out every once in a while. The time we spent together should have told him that much. It was so casual! I know I didn't come on strong or desperate. It was days, sometimes almost a week between times we'd text or hang out (which in retrospect was fine with me). If anything maybe I came across as not as interested as I actually was? Or maybe I'm getting my just desserts? Karmically speaking somehow? The thing is I've never stood anyone up. I've never even gotten involved with anyone so how does that work? I'm thinking maybe I pissed him off by not wanting to hang out that night and he decided then that he was done with me. Or maybe he never wanted to go on a date which is why he got 'stuck' at work the first time? Way to send some mixed messages jerk. (Of course, I still haven't heard from or seen him so if something did happen to him I will feel like a gigantic asshole.)

That night (um 3 ago to be precise- thus the still growing perspective) I had a little emotional meltdown. The ironic thing is, I was feeling myself go down before this even happened, starting a few weeks ago actually with a visit from an old friend I had in common with Jean...But I digress. I had an insanely stressful beginning of the week and this just rounded it off. I was so angry, and here comes yet another irony, at myself. I mean yeah I was pissed at him for being a dick, but like usual I turned it inward because apparently all I ever think about is myself. I was already thinking well shit, my first possibility in 10 years and this is how it begins/ends? On the same night? I HATE THIS. I actually got all ready to go and sat and waited. I never thought I would be one of those girls. I thought I'd have enough awareness to be able to tell if a guy liked me enough to NOT STAND ME UP. THIS is why I don't date. Good GOD I'd be so embarrassed if I wasn't so mad. How often do I do this? Never. Can't the universe give me a fucking break? I started thinking everything I've been telling myself these past few months is crap and that I've just been talking myself into it because I want so badly to change. I thought fuck him, fuck this, I'm done. The door I thought I was opening slammed shut again.

The next day I ended up talking to a good friend (via IM) who told me to stop punching myself in the face. Didn't I see how messed up it was that he stood me up and I was mad at myself? I couldn't get her to see that it wasn't about being stood up (most likely because I wasn't making sense). It was about me retreating to square one after thinking my hard work in trying to change was getting somewhere. It still is about me wondering if maybe I really am wired to be alone. Because if I'm honest, I worried on some nights that Red would text me to hang out and I wouldn't have a good excuse to get out of it. I thought a lot about having someone to do things with and it made me happy, but then I also thought about how unhappy I'd be on the days/nights I just wanted to be alone to work on projects or write. How that would end up pissing him off, confusing him or hurting him. I know it's selfish but I didn't like worrying about what he was thinking. It's too hard to have someone else in my head. I don't know how people do it. I have enough trouble with my own thoughts and feelings...and I wonder if all of this is STILL an ongoing effect of my friendship with Jean. I was so consumed with how she was feeling and how I could make her happy that there was no me. I had no thoughts or feelings of my own. I can't go through that again. It destroyed me. It took years to rebuild myself. And I wasn't even in love with her! I wonder if I ever do get into a relationship whether I'll be able to distinguish what's too much and what's not enough. I suppose if I love him, caring about his thoughts and feelings will be balanced because I obviously have enough self-love to last me a lifetime. That is definitely not to say there is no self-loathing because I've pretty much cried for two nights over my solitude and what of myself I've created to keep me that way. But I suppose it's all about perspective. I shouldn't have IMed with my friend the day after because I had none. The mixture of disbelief, anger, sadness, resignation, pain and relief was overwhelming and I didn't know what to do with it.

Granted it's only 3 days later but this evening something occurred to me: Though it has actually been 10 years (no exaggeration) since the last time I've truly been interested in a guy, my previously thought decimated hope that I'd ever meet another one turns out to just be deflated. Under the rubble it's still there. Perhaps this really was just a catalyst in getting me to open up. This is in direct contradiction to my wonder about being built to be alone, which admittedly I still think. I have no explanation for this. I suppose hope never dies despite believing something contrary. I'm still hoping I'll meet a guy who I really want to be with, from the start, and having someone else in my head won't be so hard. Or at least, it'll be preferable to being alone. What freaks me out is how hard I know it's going to be, both to meet him and let him in, mostly because I'm really good at getting in my own way.

So yesterday I was at square one but I think I've climbed back up a peg today...hopefully. Maybe the door hasn't slammed shut. I dunno. I'm still swimming in emotion, trying to make sure I go in a good direction. The depression is still a threat, especially after my mother (who doesn't know about any of this) said she needed to make sure I had somebody before she dies (which isn't any time soon but still), but I think if I ride it out it will ebb as always and I'll be back to my old happy confused self, as opposed to my basket case confused self. I don't know why I continually torture myself with this internal war about being alone and being with someone. Sometimes I think I wouldn't know who I am without it.

Love and Evolution

Merriam-Webster consistently uses the word affection in its #1 definition of love. Affection is defined as a moderate feeling or tender attachment. What a way to bring the house down, huh?

I love you.
I have a moderate feeling for you too!

In my case I kind of expect love to be a combination of a great appreciation (and dare I say affection) for a person and an even greater desire to be with him (in more ways than one...don't be a perv!), among many other things I'm sure I have no idea even exist. But wanting to be with someone is not something I've ever really felt, and I don't mean sexually. I'm talking simply being in the same place at the same time as someone else for an extended period of time. Sure I have found people interesting enough to spend time with and I certainly find my friends interesting enough to hang out with, but when it comes down to it going home by myself at the end of every day is what I wanted. (That is not to say I didn't wish every day to meet a guy and fall in love at first sight, wiping away the whole internal war between the expectation to be with someone and wanting to be alone, because I did. Who doesn't want the idealized version of love?) That is something that I have only been able to fully admit recently because it is such a contradiction to a) society's (which includes friends and family) expectations and b) the influence of society's expectation on my own thought process. I truly believe that if everyone had left me alone I would not have experienced such a tortured transition when becoming an adult. And let's face it, lived a tortured existence while a teenager and a late 20 something too. Because jeez, who ever heard of a girl who actually wanted to be alone? (I found an old poetry journal of mine the other day...talk about dark and melodramatic! So filled with angst and anger, it's no wonder I was such a basket case!)

I think I've only recently been able to fully recognize it (I've always known it deep down, but questioned it too much to accept it) because as all things do, I'm evolving. Ok, that might be pushing it. I can really only hope that I'm evolving, but maybe I'm just aging. :) The need to be alone isn't as powerful as it was, though it is still obviously an important part of who I am. Had I met Red a year ago I would have already retreated to my corner, if I had responded to him at all. Now I think about spending time with him, putting aside those cherished nights to myself, and I don't hate the idea. I still struggle with it, but if he actually likes me in the long run I suppose he'll learn to respect/accept my needs in that way too. The fact that I'm thinking about him as a potential part of my life is pretty big. It's new territory for ms leave me alone. But this change I think has been coming for a while. Maybe I just needed time to prove to myself that I've made it as I am and can now open up to share it with someone else.

Red and I have hung out a couple times since my last post, always in our apartments. It kind of sounds bad, but it's not. It's been comfortable and every time we talk or hang out it's been fun and mutually initiated. I'm actually not worried about the casualness of it because if I'm reading him right I think he likes me, but if I'm wrong and he doesn't I'm ok with that. At least at this stage. We were actually supposed to have a kind of first date tonight, dinner on the town, but he ended up getting stuck at work. I managed to not get myself worked up about it during the day but I didn't hear from him at all so I started to think he was blowing me off. I chided him about it in a playful way when he finally contacted me. We are rescheduling for next week since I'm going out of town. I've been flirting...well, what I possess as a sorry excuse for the ability to flirt and it's been good. I suppose we're moving at a snail's pace but that's probably a good thing for me.

I haven't told anyone about him except my best friend kb. I debated on telling her because though I try my hardest not to let the opinions of others affect how I feel, I know that they can still sway me depending on who it is. Well that and I don't want anyone bothering me about it with questions about how things are going. Probably not a big deal for most people but because it's me, and everyone I know KNOWS I don't date, the questions would be endless.
Anyway, the HA'larious conversation went as follows:

qv: i have something to tell you but you have to promise promise promise not to bother me about it.
kb: ok, give me a minute. (she thinks) ok tell me.
qv: there's a boy i'm interested in.
kb: (pauses) ok, not what i thought it was going to be but ok this is good.
qv: what did you think i was going to say?
kb: one of two things...that you put a profile up online or...that...(trails off)
qv: that i'm a lesbian?
kb: yes!

I guess not even the ones closest to you can understand what goes on in your head. She knows me pretty well but I guess not well enough to know that if I was a lesbian I would have told her a long time ago. Course she probably thinks/thought I am/was repressing. But I digress. I laughed because I know pretty much everyone close to me thinks or has thought it and simply because I don't date and don't talk much about men in general. For all of our differences people still force each other into neatly understandable labels.

I told her about him and where I met him and her first reaction was to warn me. Really? Would I...ME...not be aware of the consequences of starting something with someone who lived in my building?? ME, who hasn't been attracted to or been comfortable around a guy since her junior year of college? ME, who imagines the end of every encounter before it even begins? I realize now her fear is more about the physical aspect (she's 4'11" and is always aware of her surroundings and potential threats) of having him so close, but still. I wanted a more enthusiastic response from her being that this entire situation is out of character for me. Or no, I shouldn't say out of character because I've never done it before so it's probably actually very much my character. I should say pushing limits, opening doors, exploring a new part of myself. But again, she thought I might be a lesbian so whatever. :)

But in tying this ramble back to my original thesis statement, to me love is like this tangible seeming intangible thing...something sparkly that glints in the sun from its place on the road but when you get to it to try to pick it up it has somehow moved further away...just quietly sparkling, waiting for you to come pick it up. I thought I'd feel it when I met the 'one'. Like the sparkle will be in his eyes and I'd just know it was for me. Perhaps one day I still will. I like Red and I want to get to know him better, but I wonder if love will ever enter the equation. I wonder if it will ever enter the equation for me with anyone. I suppose only time, that hard-hearted bitch, will tell.

The Pursuit of What?

I imagine it's natural to question happiness when you've been on the sad side so long. To question something good when nothing at all has been happening forever. The struggle between wanting to believe I control my own happiness and falling back on 'why me?' is one that goes on, but maybe it's not without reason. Maybe it's all just to get me to a certain point. After all, we only grow when we question, right?

I caught Red on the way out the door a few weeks ago. We chatted for a good ten minutes before we reached the train and went our separate ways. I decided on my ride uptown that I'd ask him if he'd been to the bar around the corner and if not would he like to grab a drink. Shockingly I couldn't bring myself to knock on his door so a few weeks passed.

Then one morning he caught me on the way out the door. His greeting made me smile: "It's a pleasure to see you this morning!" It takes so little! My first question? "Where did you come from?" I realized as soon as it left my lips it was a very idiotic way of asking what I had so thoroughly planned out in my head. He laughed and responded the only way he could have: "From another planet far, far away..." He's got a sense of humor. Check! The conversation was easy and his body language seemed on par with how I felt...happy, a little kid-like (he was hopping onto curbs). It was a good vibe. Maybe I was reading things the way I wanted to see them, but hell, I've never done that before so why not put myself in a good place?

So I kind of, sort of asked him out.

QV: Have you been to the factory?
Red: No.
QV: We should go for dinner. It's amazing. (I raved a little about the food.)
Red: It sounds like it!

But he didn't get it. Typical guy...from what I hear. We get to the train, I try again.

QV: Are you around this week? We should definitely do dinner.
Red: Yeah, what day is good for you?
QV: Any day but Wednesday, the Lost finale is on.

He stopped in his tracks. I thought he was going to make fun, which is totally acceptable, but when I looked up I saw a very serious expression. I realized he didn't have cable because we talked about it earlier so I immediately invited him over. We'll order in! I said just come up whenever you get home. He seemed excited, as was I, if only to have someone to watch with. :)

Wednesday arrived and he knocked on the door. He said he promised his friend that he'd go running with him but he didn't want me to think he'd forgotten. He'll be up in say, an hour? Sure, sure. I'll wait to order with you. You sure? You don't have to if you're hungry. No, it's ok. I'll have a snack. So he goes. So does my mind. But I soon realized that it was totally not a date and I shouldn't be thinking so hard about it. He's coming to hang out and watch TV, so we'll just get to know each other. It'll be fun, just freaking relax. And surprisingly...I did. He arrived an hour later and we talked and ordered Thai food. It was actually a lot of fun and totally stress free. And here's the best part...dinner came with only one fortune cookie (despite it being Thai food). We split it and I gave him the fortune to read. He was thoughtful.

QV: is it good?
Red: oh it's...good. (He smiled and handed it to me)

Now is the time to go ahead and pursue that love interest!

For real? I had to laugh. Knowing that it is human nature to look for signs and make recognizable patterns out of things we don't otherwise understand is not stopping me from finding a little hope in this group of words on this tiny slip of paper stuck inside a random fortune cookie. And it's weird. Though there haven't been many, with the very few guys that I have attempted to kind of get to know I've never really been hopeful before. Now I'm sure some of you are saying that hanging out and watching TV is total friend territory, and perhaps it is, but in my book it's pretty much the only way this is going to get started for me. It's another good sign.

But now I have all these new questions about why I'm feeling the way I'm feeling. Which is to say hopeful, maybe a little excited...but not getting ahead of myself mind you. I'm not even expecting that we'll start really dating, but for once I don't feel so closed down. Just getting to know someone I think is cool will brighten my spirits, but getting to know someone who has romantic potential? This is new territory. I find myself asking if I'm making myself feel these things because I'm tired of being alone. (However, I've been tired for a while now and I've never been able to make myself feel any differently.) I find myself finally accepting that love at first sight is not the only way love happens. (I can imagine spending time with him and getting to like him more and more.) I find myself wondering if I'm finally changing or if this is the way it was supposed to go all along. Maybe things will work and if they don't maybe I'll actually be able to date or at least find interest in someone where I couldn't muster it before. Maybe I just finally met someone interesting I'd like to get to know. Perhaps it's simply the discovery that the potential actually exists at all for me...

And then I tell myself to shut up and take things one day at a time. Que Será Será.

Mantra

In order to change I must let myself be vulnerable. In order to be vulnerable I must relinquish control.
In order to change I must let myself be vulnerable. In order to be vulnerable I must relinquish control.
In order to change I must let myself be vulnerable. In order to be vulnerable I must relinquish control.

Translator Wanted: Male to English

I met a guy who just moved in to the building a few weeks ago on the stoop. We were both leaving for work and struggling with umbrellas and keys. I asked him if he had just moved in and he said yes, but I didn't hear which apartment because I automatically assumed he had moved in with the girl who had also just moved in. (This is legitimate...somewhat...due to the realtor telling me a while ago that all the units under contract were by females.) I also remember thinking it was too bad because he was cute. I stuck out my hand and introduced myself to which he responded in same. I'll call him Red since for some odd reason I remember him having reddish brown hair. We said our goodbyes and went our separate ways.

Then the other day while climbing the stairs to my apartment, I passed a guy standing in the doorway to apartment C which I thought was still empty. Guys (and girls too) please help me interpret the following paraphrased but pretty accurate conversation. At the moment I am trying not to read into it being anything more than just a friendly invitation, (I mean it's not like he wasn't speaking plain English) but it seems kind of early for such a thing. We did just meet after all, albeit twice.

QV: hi! did you just move in? (i peeked in at this point which i regretted as terrible etiquette directly after the conversation was over.)
Red: hi. oh...i moved in about 2 weeks ago? i haven't been around much on the weekends though.
QV: my name's QV, i live in F. (i put out my hand)
Red: i'm red. (he shook it) the place is a mess still- (he waved his hand inside)
QV: ha! don't worry about it. i moved in in december and i still need a couch.
It suddenly hit me that I had met a 'Red' on the stoop a few weeks ago, but his hair was not even close to reddish. It's dark brown. Weird.
QV: did we meet before? outside?
Red: (he chuckled) yeah-
QV: omg! i'm sorry! you look so different!
Red: well i got my hair cut and shaved the beard so-
QV: oh! ha. (i should have said that it looked good, because it did, but i didn't because i didn't think to- i was embarrassed i didn't recognize him) well...i guess i'll see you around!
Red: yeah! hey if you ever want to stop by and hang out just knock on my door.
QV: oh yeah! same! just come up! (what? what am i saying?)
Red: ok, see you around!
QV: bye!


So...is he interested? or just friendly? or both? I mean, I probably come off as pretty friendly myself in this scenario, which after all my harping on being anti-social would seem out of character but it's not really. I do like meeting new people, just not at parties or bars or really in numbers bigger than one. Anyway, I did mean it when I returned the invite at the moment, and it's not that I want to take it back now, it's more like whichever one of us knocks on the other's door to hang out is kind of picking up the ball so to speak. And thus begins the awkwardness! And YES while I wrote that I know how ridiculous it is, I'm getting so far ahead of myself I might as well be time traveling, but I can't help thinking it. I wouldn't be me if I didn't. I can't quite remember exactly what he looks like because my first image of him was clearly wrong and the second one was marred by embarrassment from the first- but I do know I wasn't unattracted. Which for me is pretty big.

Oh boy.

How To Date A Non-Dater (Good Luck With That)

There are probably many things Ian Coburn knows how to do, but one of them for sure is how to tell a great story. His book about dating disasters is highly entertaining and quite informational. I definitely enjoyed the read. Check out his site godisawoman.net for some excerpts, blurbs and comments.

"It's a game. To date, one has to play; it's not a choice. If people don't play, they don't date."
-Ian Coburn

And so the reason for my dateless existence is explained. This is something to bear in mind when reading my reactions, because I feel it puts me in a different category than most of the audience for his book. Perhaps I'm wrong, but I feel like most people don't mind dating, or at least actually try or want to try to do it, and so by reading this book can enjoy and identify with his trials and errors. I didn't take away the thought that dating was something I could be successful at, it was more of an oh my god I'm never, ever dating kind of feeling. I just really, really don't want to play. But in his defense, I kind of felt that way before I started reading.

So aside from enjoying his stories, I had two general reactions. One of which, the feminist one because you had to know I'd have one, was to notice the pointed physical description of every female, simply said breast size and ass shape (with some hair color and leg length thrown in for good measure). What saves him from my wrath is his observation of their personalities as well as my understanding who his target audience is. (Other guys who need visual representations in order to fully appreciate the situation...I'm guessing.) Well, that and the fact that you can tell while reading that he is a genuinely good guy who actually does care about women and what they're feeling. That alone puts him way above the rest. (Any man who respects a woman enough not to take advantage of her when she passes out right before the deed is done, even if she really wanted it too, is a stand-up guy. This is of course how all men should be. Sadly it is not.)

But as I just previously stated, the fact of the matter is I'm coming at this book with the baggage of not just not being in the game, but not really wanting to be in it either. His understanding of the game and how to play it is detailed and eye-opening for those people who never really thought about just listening to the person they're trying to get to know (and perhaps bed). I know that the women he picks up are also playing the game, but my second reaction is one of discomfort. I don't know if he'd be able to read me like he does other women, but if he figured me out I'm sure his approach would probably work and I'm not sure that sits well with me. I don't really want to be played, even if it is with the intention of getting to know me. I'm sure it's because that stupid suspicion that has been ingrained in me since birth changes the latter part of that thought into the intention to get in my pants. How messed up is that? How will I ever meet a guy if I refuse to allow him any kind of approach? I'm know I'm looking at it the wrong way, that is, he's figuring me out so he can get his game on rather than he likes the look of me and is figuring out how to approach me in a way that will get my attention. That said, I'm clearly I'm the kind of woman he'd probably avoid anyway because apparently he can't win no matter what he does. Ha. My lengthy singledom is pretty much self-explanatory, no?

It occurs to me skimming through it again that a lot of what he says is common sense. It's just that people let their issues get in the way. Ian of course says it better: "There are a lot of walls out there in the dating world that people build around themselves. The irony is most people don't need them, they just chose to build them." He goes on to say guys take dating for granted- there will always be someone else to hit on. I venture to say for most women the walls are used as protection. One glaringly bright example is myself. I can't meet guys because I'm too suspicious to let them meet me. Omygod that sounds so deranged but it's true! In my defense I don't like bars (where most guys' intentions are suspect) and as much as I enjoy being alone, don't really like attending events by myself (where I probably could meet a decent guy). I always see things in the paper I'd like to go to but don't and just end up thinking I would have gone if I had someone to go with.

He also talks about how dating should be fun and I agree. It's just that there's too much pressure (mostly self) for it to actually be fun, for both parties involved. The minimal experience I have had has not been fun at all. My response to it now is pavlovic. Avoid! Run! Escape! It's ironic because though I can be a real homebody, when I do go out I can be quite fun! I love to travel and get lost and see sights, I love live music and new things and will try anything once (ahem...a lot of things. Many things. There are obviously some exceptions, ok?) I love diner food and chatting the time away, I'm always the first one with a ridiculous joke or to somehow make an ass of myself. So why can't I see dating as fun rather than akin to surgery without anesthesia? Show me how to date without feeling awkward, hurting anyone's feelings, worrying about impressions, worry about intentions...and I'll play a few games of operation with you. Maybe I'll even let you win.

At heart I guess I'm a house cat. I want to be picked out by someone I'm also attracted to and I want to be loved but only when I want to be. I say again. Deranged.




At least I have a sense of humor about it. :)

Crushed Expectations

I'm so disappointed in myself (that old familiar feeling). I keep talking a good game about how I'm going to change things, and then I go and blow off a party (i.e. social gathering with males in attendance). My friend totally knew I was lying when I called to say I wasn't coming because of a stomach ache. I know some of the people that will be there, but not well and I don't feel like feeling awkward. Granted it would only be for a few hours, I just can't muster the energy to go. And I want to kick myself.

Why am I so tired? That was supposed to dissipate after all the stress of trying to buy this apartment went away.

Why can't I change my aversion to parties? Is that just something I need to accept and figure a way around?

I'm sick of this war between believing in fate and believing I make my own. This clash between knowing I'm fine alone and wanting to share my life with someone and being unable, or possibly afraid, of letting it happen. Of actual change.

Am I actually afraid of the change I've been blabbing on about? Ogod.

I'm sick of me.

Can I trade brains with someone for a while?

The Buck Stops Here...Possibly There

I was watching a show on History the other night about, what else? Armageddon. Apparently there have been numerous people from various cultures throughout time (e.g., ancient China, European middle ages and modern Hopi Native Americans) that believe(d) the world will end on December 21, 2012. I just found the website and am surprised that I've never heard it before. (Aha! I just realized why there's a new movie called 2012 coming out!) It's fascinating to me because last summer a woman handed me a leaflet that said the world was going to end on May 21, 2011. That is to say the Rapture will occur and the world and all its heathens will be consumed in a firey hell.

So...which is it?

Mind you, I am not mocking anyone who believes these things. I'm just saying I don't. (Though the 2012 stuff is pretty freaky, despite the website selling t-shirts. Anyway 11:11 am Greenwich Mean Time is 6:11 am NY time so I'll still be asleep. Assuming I'm still in NY then...)

I had to laugh at myself because while watching the show I believed everything I heard. I actually said out loud at one point, "please let me know love before the world ends." Then when it was over I thought that's absurd. How could anyone know the exact date the earth is going to implode? Because I do believe it will, just not in our lifetime. And not by any higher power's hand. Humanity will either destroy the planet that feeds and we'll starve or we will destroy one another for having different beliefs. Either way, no one is responsible but us.

They say all these different prophecies have come true, about wars, natural disasters, disease...yeah well how hard is to pick a date and say there will be a flood that wipes out some random city built near the waters' edge? Or that someone with evil tendencies will rise to power only to gain more through terrorizing others? or that too many people living in poor, dirty conditions will lead to suffering and death? It happens all the time. People are dramatists. Alarmists. History repeats itself and we need to constantly reassure ourselves the end is near to cover for the fact that we've seen it before, just in a different way. (For every person that predicted something that actually happened, there are like a thousand who predicted armageddon. And yet we're all still here. YK2 anyone?) We have to shout a lot to make sure other people are still listening. We need to create something big to ensure we give meaning to our lives. People don't ever grow up and stop needing attention. It's our nature. This is what I believe.

I don't need to predict a world wide natural disaster or the coming of the antichrist (which PS is NOT Obama) to scare myself into feeling alive.

I just need to stop all the bullshit in my head and learn to love someone.

Before the world ends.

My Cold, Happy Heart

"And then that look that you gave me
Sent me rushing through guilt's door
I'd already started to feel callous
Like I really should care more"
-Ani Difranco

Callous
2 a: feeling no emotion b: feeling or showing no sympathy for others: hard-hearted.

If they were to update this entry in Merriam-Webster my picture would be placed beside it. Well...I guess only if there was the addendum "one is not close to or does not know well" after 'no sympathy for others'. And yet, as soon as that Sarah Mclachlan animal cruelty commercial comes on I just about sob openly. Why do I feel so twisted?

In the past couple months, 1 friend became a domestic partner, 3 other friends got engaged, my youngest cousin got married and I just found out my other younger cousin is getting married this summer. I can genuinely say that I am excited for all my friends and can't wait to be part of the festivities. My cousins on the other hand...I just don't know them that well. My youngest cousin I don't know at all. What brought about this whole callous business is the fact that I found out her husband was recently killed in Iraq. They got married in October. This is heartbreakingly sad, but I feel nothing. I guess I feel bad for her, she's never had much luck in life. Period. But what can I do about the situation? I can't comfort her, I don't know her. I don't even have her phone number. My mother tells me her heart aches for her niece, but me? I'm beginning to think my heart has shrunk. It's the same reaction I had to finding out about the separation I mentioned in the last post. I mean, that situation is slightly different because he doesn't want comfort or anyone's pity. But still. It's the start of a broken family and all I can do is look at it from the outside and think 'well that's sad', but not actually feel any sadness.

My younger cousin that's getting married- we communicate a few times a year but we're not really in each other's lives. She used to really look up to me when we were growing up, but again, I don't really know her as an adult. She asked me to be in her wedding to the guy she was engaged to before this one, but hasn't mentioned anything to me about being engaged now or the wedding this summer. My mother told me and has been on my case about it ever since. Not in the 'when are you getting married' way, she just wants me to start making travel arrangements because the wedding is down south. I'm like, she hasn't even called me! I don't even want to look at how much air fare will be because it's a holiday. Why does this bother me so much? I should just be happy for her and call her to congratulate her but instead I'm just kind of annoyed which puts me only one notch above the border of not even caring.

I feel like there's not enough room in my heart to care, but why? What else am I filling it up with right now? And then at the same time I feel like I have so much love to give. I should care but I can't. I could care but I don't. The clash is causing me to feel detached...to just about everything. That's not to say I'm not happy, because I still am- about all the things I've written about since the new year. I think that's what worries me. I'm still happy in my detachment. That sounds disasterously close to shutting down, just in a different way than I have before. A more innocuous way that won't ring any warning bells to let me know I'm sinking and will eventually have to crawl toward the light again. Can you shut down if you're happy?

Perhaps it's just that my present particular human condition is to question my happiness (though it seems extremely pointless and ultimately self-defeating). Maybe I'm happier because I've lessened how much of others lives I let into my own. Maybe by unconsciously (though now realized) shutting it out I've become happier. Maybe I'm just tired of sadness. For the first time in a long time there isn't this latent sadness hanging around me, so now I have to question it. Figures, right? How could I be happy when so many horrible things are happening every day? AND I'm still single? I must be callous. I'm thinking I should just take this at face value for the moment and enjoy my happiness, no matter what the cause, instead of beating it to death with the stick of obsessive self-analysis.

Is there a good place to lose a stick of obsessive self-analysis? Where can I misplace it so I'll never see it again?

Love Unavailable Style

I've been thinking a lot about love lately. Not because it's the marketing month for it, but because I think I've reached a point in my life where I've achieved a certain level of satisfaction with my life and it's the one ingredient I don't have. Don't get me wrong, there is always room for improvement and I still have other unfulfilled dreams, but when it gets down to it, life is pretty good. Great career, great apartment, great friends, great...missing piece?

I received sad and incredibly mysterious news about a family member separating from his wife after 22 years. My brother and I talked about it and his comment was, "I thought I was emotionally unavailable." Before I knew what I was saying I replied, "well we all know where I stand with that one. I'm still single at 31."

Did I just suddenly realize something totally obvious about myself? Is it possible to be greatly emotional and emotionally unavailable at the same time? How do I know if I've never been in a relationship where being emotionally unavailable described my behavior? Or maybe always being single is the number one sign of someone who is emotionally unavailable?

I'm working on theory to give myself a little hope- maybe being emotionally unavailable is not the same thing as being emotionally 'on-hold'. For all my excuses and explanations for how I have ended up where I am today, I know that after constantly pushing the thoughts of love and boyfriends and relationships and sex into the back of my mind, somewhere along the way whatever the reasons were evolved into a kind of shutting down so I wouldn't have to think about it at all. Despite that (not thinking about it) not working, the repression still did. Maybe...maybe it's just a different kind of unavailability, one that will surely change once I meet someone worth sharing life with. Because I do want to share my life. I'm thinking that alone kicks me out of the unavailable group. Sigh of relief.

I remember feeling like I was meant for something bigger when I was in my teens and early twenties. I used to joke with friends all the time, "am I famous yet?" As asinine and naively pompous as it was, I felt it. Or perhaps, I thought myself into feeling it. At any rate, it lead to a lot of wondering and waiting around for something big to happen, someone to recognize my talent or maybe even I would somehow end up doing something worthy and it would give my life meaning. I spent many years frustrated and irritated at myself for not reaching that higher ground. I always felt like there was more out there for me, more than just growing up, getting a 9 to 5, having a family, settling into the suburbs, etc etc etc. The thought scared me I realize now, because in my mind it translated into being nothing special. Just doing what everyone else was doing. I always wanted to be different, for as far back as I can remember. It never occurred to me that love could make what I deemed 'nothing special' bigger and more amazing than it could ever be seen or felt by me from the outside. Considering what a romantic I am, this is weird. Why wouldn't I believe that love makes people's lives better, no matter how they live it?

(I just finished reading Revolutionary Road and the cynicism I found in it reminded me of my old assumptions that people who lived 'nothing special' lives were either unhappy with them or kind of blind to the repetitive emptiness. This is very strange because I grew up in the suburbs in a very traditional house, albeit my mom wore the pants, and had a wonderful childhood and great family life. Where did I get so many negative ideas? What did I see that I didn't want to become? I still want no part of the suburbs, but I wonder where it all stems from? Perhaps it's nothing deeper than not wanting to live suburban style?...but I suppose that's a quandary for another post...)

And so yes, to anyone else who is not me, falling in love is the big, glaringly obvious thing I've been waiting for all my life (while at the same time destroying any potential for it). Being the staunch independent I am, I somehow convinced myself that love was something that would happen, but wouldn't give my life meaning. God forbid I depend on anyone else for anything, especially self-worth. I spent a long time trying to find meaning in my life and it wasn't until I realized I am the only one who can give my life meaning that I reclaimed part of the happiness I felt before I began questioning my existence. Ah the blessed obliviousness of childhood! It is now in retrospect I see that I was mixing up life meaning and life change. In one respect it's ok because I managed to find happiness and life meaning within and by myself. In another it means I've denied myself the unique experience of finding love and sharing my life because I thought it meant I would be co-dependent. For some people this may be the way it works...but for me, I know my life will only be enriched. It can only get better. Even despite the drama it will surely bring, it's a life experience! And all my life I've been so concerned with having every kind of life experience! How could I have been so blind!?

So here's to feeling famous because you're in love.

Does it matter that I still didn't put the sheep first?

Put the following animals in order of their importance:
pig, sheep, horse, cow, and tiger.

(check comments for silly symbolic meanings)

Pimp Daddy

My father and I have a way of being able to talk about potentially awkward things without it being awkward. I suppose it comes from his years in the medical industry as well as my mother's intention to try to embarrass the hell out of him whenever she could. Anyway the following conversation took place after my mother handed me a sales flyer and told me to find a bra I wanted.

QV: (angrily flipping pages due to not finding any bras on sale in my size) if they can't make bras for flat girls, they should at least give us something to cover the nipples. Or make it socially acceptable to see them.
Dad: you have to get the...pastries.
QV: i'm going to go ahead and assume you mean pasties.
Dad: (laughs uncontrollably)
QV: can you imagine me walking around with crossaints on my boobs?

It's Just Like 1987, Without The Sweater Vest

Remember the days before the internet went public? Before you could reach out anonymously to an online community for some sort of, I dunno, bearing witness of your emotional existence?

So yeah. That's how I've been living since the end of November. It has been strange...and extremely inconvenient. I've come to realize how much I rely on the internet to talk to people. I don't like the phone and barely ever come close to going over my minutes but this month my bill is exorbitant. On the phone with the cable company, on the phone with the gas company, on the phone with co-workers, on the phone with my parents- funny, hardly on with any of my friends, but they all know how much I hate the phone so they barely call anyway.

And I'm sure you can guess that because I had no way to talk about it, big things happened! Well...not in the relationship area (big surprise) but that big event that I expect to set changes in motion finally happened. I FINALLY got and own my own place. Throughout the end of November, beginning of December I felt like I was a boxer in a ring with no gloves. The blows were coming from everywhere, including my own fists, and I couldn't defend myself. What is it they say? Divorce, death and moving are the three most stressful things in life? That is for damn sure. My contract was not the normal contract so I couldn't set a close date. If I could have, I never would have gotten stressed. Instead I was a walking zombie. The first two weeks of December were the worst ever. Every day I waited, knowing I had a deadline that I was ready to defend one day, ready to give up on the next. My entire life savings was at the heart of it and I was left just hanging in the wind as to whether or not I'd actually get to spend it without losing it completely. Insanity.

So now here I am, in my brand new apartment...hemorraging money. A new dresser, a couch, gas bill, utensil holders, hooks for doors, putty for the holes the workers left, paint, cleaning solutions...etc, etc, etc. Not that I'm complaining. :) It's fun to have my own place to decorate however the hell I want! Onward and upward!

But then...and here returns our favorite drama queen...I've now been alone in this apartment for a while now. I took a week after the holidays to set everything up and buy all the furniture I need, but now I know it wasn't such a great idea. I don't have a car so I couldn't and can't get anywhere, I (still) don't have internet so I can't order anything, I don't have cable so I don't even have tv. (This cable/internet situation is really starting to get on my nerves. I sent an angry but professional email this morning to someone who I hope can make things happen.) So what's left but to listen to music and self-analyse all day long?

I've been good though, while on vacation I refused to get myself down despite the loneliness that was very palpable due to the circumstances. Though I've felt lonely in the past, I always at least had a roommate or friends around to take the edge off. Literally sitting by yourself in a quiet, not quite yet comfy apartment does not take the edge off anything. But now that I'm back to work and have contact with people on a daily basis I haven't thought about it much. The other good thing is I have a lot of other distractions concerning fixing up the place.

And I'm still counting on the change that will come with this new milestone. He's got to be closer now. :) Once it gets warmer out I'm going to really explore the neighborhood and actually smile at people instead of look the other way. That will take some conscious effort for this hard edged city girl but I'm willing!

Still here!

Still alive!
Still analyzing!
Still a virgin!
Still without internet access at home! It's been over a month. I'm starting to get the shakes. Might be another month before I get it the way things are going...but it's all good. Especially because it's the new year and though I did not make a list of resolutions, I know things are going to change this year. Mostly because I'm going to attempt to take responsibility for making things change.

FIngers crossed!

(For internet too!)

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!