And Scene.

All that optimism from a few days ago?
Half it.
That's about where I am today.
Due to insurance issues I had to take a break from therapy. A few days ago was my first time back in about a month. I was all ready to walk in there and talk about how good I felt and maybe end therapy while continuing the medication until summer. Instead she made me realize that just because I felt better in one respect doesn't mean I had it all figured out. I sort of knew that, but I thought I was more on the way to being able to handle it.
Guess not.
Tears yet again for reasons I could not place, aside from disappointment and the realization that I'm still putting myself under so much pressure one unexpected thing happens and I break.
Sigh.

Phase 5

What is it about time that allows it to speed by sometimes and drag on others? Different cultures perceive time in different ways, but the ones without time fascinate me. Like the Hopi. There is no past or future verb tenses. The closest they come is sooner and later. Imagine what life would be like without the constant cultural pressure to prepare for the future and remember the past because it makes you who you are. In some ways it sounds amazing. It would be so much easier to focus on what's happening now, living life as it happens, rather than suffering the past or worrying over the future. In other ways it seems sad, because memories are a big part of who we are and who hasn't dreamed about something fantastical happening to them in the future?

Time for me feels like it should be measured in phases:
0-6 phase 1: generally, oblivious bliss.
7-13 phase 2: learning the real differences between girls and boys and what's happening to my body?
14-17 phase 3: (for many) testing the boy/girl waters and figuring out who you are.
18-27 phase 4: thinking you know who you are, getting shredded and having to start over.
28-35 phase 5: realizing control is an illusion, a coping device for the human condition, and figuring out what to do next.
etc...

So by definition then I would be 5. That sounds about right. I've reached a point in my life where everything I used to think I would do when I grew up, I should have done by now. It is my experience that the two have not coincided. What I thought I'd be doing and what I am actually doing aren't the same. And for a good while there, it terrified me. It angered me. It depressed, confused and shattered me. And as you already know it sent me down a path of isolation, self-deprivation and sadness to a place where nothing seemed to make sense. Fortunately I finally recognized just how lost I felt and found another path to try to get me back.

To back up my age 5 theory, 3 of my friends in the past few months have told me how full of rage and often sadness they feel. Despite the 4 of us leading very different lives, I think they're experiencing the same thing. There's just a point where no matter how good or bad your life is going, unconsciously you realize it isn't what you had in mind and all you are left with is an acute discontentment you cannot place. Life is harder than that and even harder to accept that you didn't live it how you wanted to, or rather, it didn't turn out how you expected. It just sort of...happened. You end up feeling crazy because your emotions flick back and forth to the extremes and you don't know why. I know I sound like a ridiculous new ager, but it really is about accepting what you cannot control.

And that has been the biggest lesson I've learned. Just to make it clear, I've always known that I've needed to accept what I can't control, but a lot of people don't realize that no matter how your intellect sees it, your emotional self needs to see it too. Being that my intellectual and emotional selves have been separated for so long, it's no wonder why I couldn't actually feel the acceptance.

It has taken five months of therapy (and a little medication I will admit) to bring my two selves back together. That's not to say they're happily remarried and living in the country, it's just a start. I feel like my heart has finally caught up to my head in certain important respects which is what I guess I've been unconsciously fighting this whole time. I don't believe that it will never happen again, but I'm more aware now of how my mind works and that I do need to give myself time to accept things, trust things and believe in things again. I still have fears and other annoying insecurities which I still need to work through, and frankly I don't know if they will ever be resolved by my own doing, but I finally feel like I'm at least headed in the right direction. It's a relief.

Haven't ended therapy yet but I am considering it. I will try to write more about other things I worked through in sessions if you are interested. But as per usual with me it will take some time. Because we all know there's never enough of it!
Hope you are all doing well.
Maybe phase 6 will finally reconcile who/where I am with who/where I want to be. Time's a'wastin'!

The Catastrophist

Queen Virgin: The Catastrophist. It's my new sub title. You like?

It has been quite a windy road these past few weeks...months even. Therapy is going...well it's going. I don't have anything to compare it to so I'm not sure if it's great, so-so or completely unhelpful. I still cry during every session, most of the time for reasons I cannot place, but I'm not depressed. In the past around this time I've gone down, recovered somewhat for Christmas and the New Year but then fell right down again when the winter took its hold on me. I suppose because I am feeling mostly normal right now that it's a start in the right direction. One of change anyway.

K calls me a catastrophist. I'm always thinking about how things explode in the end before I even attempt to begin them. I've known that I do that concerning guys and dating, but I've recently realized that I do it almost across the board when dealing with emotional issues. I have the habit of downplaying things because I don't want them to blow up. That is to say, I never make a big deal out of anything, I lessen my importance in my friend's lives by clamming up and I run from any sort of disagreement. I didn't know how big a part of my life it played until my doctor said, "it sounds like you have a tendency to put your own feelings last". Like when I make plans for my birthday and go to a restaurant everyone can afford rather than the one I want to go to that's a little more because I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable. Or not calling a friend when I really need to talk because I know they're busy and don't want to interrupt them. Or when I let people treat me badly because I don't want to say anything that would make them feel bad. Across the board.

So I don't make a big deal out of anything and I end up getting hurt because I don't let anyone know what's important to me...but, and here's the kicker, if I did let them know what was important to me and they disappointed me I would end up getting hurt. That is the latest gem I learned in session.

And really all this does is oil the self-loathing fire I had managed to get to low simmer.

At some point I felt the walls going up and the urge to just block everything out coming on strong again. Almost like I was holding the anchor of depression and I could just let it go and sink or I could tie it up. I decided to reach out to a friend who I've sort of been to hell and back with (who oddly enough is not K) because I know she of all my friends is the most like me and knows me about as well as I know myself. I told her how many times I wanted to call but didn't because I know she's busy, but admittedly more so because I couldn't take it if she answered and actually said she couldn't talk right at that moment. She could not grasp how that would be just as crushing to me as if something tragic happened and I called and she said she couldn't come. Though I am aware that not being able to talk on the phone and not physically coming to help a friend in dire need are at opposite ends of the spectrum, the emotional result for me would be the same. She kept saying there's no way in hell any of my friends wouldn't come if I called, and the chances of me needing someone like that are pretty low anyway, but I couldn't get her to understand my...my catastophist'y. I couldn't tell her how every time she rescheduled our dinner my heart sunk. A great example of a) not letting her know how important she is to me and b) putting my feelings last. I didn't want her to feel bad about hurting me, though she was completely unaware of it and had legitimate excuses to reschedule. See I know how irrational my emotions are so I bury them. I count only on myself and loathe any form of needing someone because needing someone ultimately leads to getting hurt.

Oh there is so much more, but I'm tired. Hopefully I'll have some more time to write soon-

So Many Things!

"Well, I'm finally a real New Yorker. I have a therapist now!"
-QV

This is pretty much how I told my friends about my latest venture into the mess of my mental health. Only one said outright she knew something wasn't quite right with me, but probably never said anything because, well, what can you say? Why are you acting weird, but not in a constant, definable way? They all understood though and gave me props for taking the steps to try to help myself. A few of them felt bad about not being able to help which made me feel good and bad at the same time- good because they care, bad because that was not my intent upon telling them. How could they help when I hid it all from them?

I still don't like therapy, but it's a little easier now that I've gotten a handle on myself and my emotions. I'm not quite sure the latter is a good thing because I need to remember how to be emotional without breaking down, but at the moment I'm not involved in anything really emotionally driven (outside of work which is causing me frustration) to test it. I still feel awkward at times because I don't know what to say and I don't want to repeat myself every session. It actually makes me laugh to think in literal terms about how I'm basically shelling out a ton of money to someone to listen to me talk about myself for 45 minutes.
It's weird.

I decided to start taking medication. It's been three weeks and I have to say I think it is working. My irritation level has decreased and I think that because I started feeling better before I started the meds it's done its job to keep me from falling back into a depression. My last wedding was last weekend and I still feel pretty good. After the previous three weddings I felt sad and down on myself. It was a destination wedding which lasted three days- I met a ton of new people and was stuck in the position where I had to be social with a ton of new people every night...and I actually enjoyed it. I had fun all three nights, days too! I'm finally feeling little bits of my old self coming back.

In other news my decision to get over myself and stop making excuses has lead me to take a baby step and sign up for a dating site. I'm a little worried about the fact that the first group of guys interested in me are all over 40. Not that there is anything wrong with that, I just have a lower number as my cutoff and it sort of strikes me as either careless or desperate. Don't start yelling, I'm still looking at their profiles and checking them out, I'm just saying. A lot of the older guys I used to work with had puppy dog eyes for me too. Odd.

I did get one email that just said 'sexy as hell'. I'm not being sarcastic when I say it was nice to read, especially because none of my pictures have any element of sexiness to them. My question to you guys is, should I respond to the nice emails I get if I have no intention of continuing emailing? I'd like to say thanks, but I'm afraid it will it send the wrong message if I'm not interested in them. What should I do?

One last note of thanks to all of you who sent good comments and thoughts my way and who are pulling for me. It means more than I can say.

xo
QV

But What If Drugs Cause Hugs?

“After ten years in therapy, my psychologist told me something very touching, he said, “no hablo ingles.””
Dennis Wolfberg

I have to wonder myself if it actually mattered who I first talked to when I finally worked up the courage to call for an appointment. Which by the way, I got as far as calling the number my insurance card said to call and then became paralyzed. It took me a week to make that call and I induced a reflux attack for nothing: the voice on the other end simply gave me my insurance information and told me to look up a doctor online. I was too overwhelmed to be angry that the stupid benefits book didn't just say that. K actually ended up making the call for me and the doctor called me back to make an appointment. I'm extremely lucky to have her.

After the fourth appointment I was much calmer though still anxious, and finally separated my feelings about therapy from my feelings about the therapist. My first appointment with the Psychiatrist went by and after speaking with her it became clear that I was uncomfortable with the Psychologist. I decided to stop seeing her and wait until I received the Psychiatrist's evaluation before finding another Psychologist.

Her recommendation is that it isn't urgent but I would benefit from medication. The decision is mine. I go back and forth daily.

I caught myself singing to myself the other day. In what feels like a past life it was a sign of a good mood and relative happiness. I tried to remember the last time I actually felt that way and was already two springs back before I kind of gave up. Even though I know what I'm feeling now is only a slight lightness of being after unloading years of packed in emotional turmoil, it's a wake up call to just how low I've been feeling and how very long!

I am amazed at how I couldn't see it until that moment.

This makes the case for getting on the happy train. My hate for big pharma and aversion to ingesting chemicals pulls the case back.

My next appointment is next friday. Where's my little black 8 ball?

The First Step...So I'm Told

Well...the inevitable finally happened I suppose. I had what I can only describe as an emotional meltdown and I'm now in therapy.

A couple of weeks ago I was visiting K, she just had her second baby, and we started to talk a little bit about how I was feeling. She works in the industry (so to speak) so she recognizes my depression before I even realize I'm in one, but this time she also introduced me to the word dysthymia. She explained to me what it was and it struck me as being true; Chronic mild depression with sleep disturbances and fatigue. That pretty much sums up my existence. I had myself convinced that because I was not unhappy, I was happy. (I'm sure I could just skim some old posts as proof.) She opened my eyes to the fact that they are not exact opposites. I still laughed and took pleasure in small things here and there, but most of the time I just felt blah. About everything. A switch went off, but I didn't really know it until my Psychologist asked what brought me to her. She kept asking what happened to make me call for help. I kept saying I don't know, I just knew I had to come, I've known for a long time and I just finally got up the courage. She said something specific happened to spark it all. Then suddenly that conversation came back to me and I remembered thinking that I had to get over myself and ask for help or I'd be depressed and alone for the rest of my life.

I realized that I needed to finally admit that my attempt to fix myself all these years was not working. Watching that tiny newborn asleep on my chest didn't exactly start the biological clock ticking, but it did get the desire for a shared life into the fire.

I have actually only had three sessions so far, but after the first two and before the third I was incredibly anxious, had stomach aches and couldn't sleep. I cried almost to the point of hyperventilation the first session, slightly less the second and kind of just quietly cried the third. I suppose that's progress. Most of the time I couldn't even tell you why I was crying, I just couldn't stop myself. (I've since come to the conclusion that I've been burying all my emotions for so long, now that I've opened the well it just keeps flowing.) I feel less anxious now, but I wonder if it'll come back before my next session. She actually recommended I see a psychiatrist for a consultation for medication after my second session because apparently most people feel relief after opening up. I bee-lined in the opposite direction. I am not thrilled with the idea of drugs but if the Psychiatrist also recommends it I won't fight it. At this point I might just do anything for a decent night of sleep.

I don't like it. Talking about myself (out loud to corporeal people, as opposed to you my dear readers). For many different reasons it makes me uncomfortable but K keeps telling me it's supposed to be hard. My therapist says the same thing, go figure. I knew it would be I just didn't realize how hard. Your own emotional health is a hard thing to be objective about. But in so many words, they both tell me that I'm doing well. Like a good friend K promises it will get better and I have no choice but to believe her. She has been on both sides of this therapy thing. I just hope it's relatively soon, I'm so emotionally exhausted right now I don't know which way is up.

Notes In Passing

Well, two weddings down, two to go. The first was full of family friends I've known forever so it was fun (though no prospectives) and the second was full of people I didn't know at all so I kind of sat alone at a table all night. Truth be told, the sexy little dress I was wearing required pasties and I FORGOT TO PUT THEM ON. So I really couldn't get up and dance, for modesty or class I don't know which. (Don't ask me how in the world I forgot something as important as that. I didn't even realize it until I was half way up the thruway!) I chatted with people don't get me wrong, it's not like I relegated myself to a corner refusing to look anyone in the eye. I'm not that bad. But it seemed everyone there knew and were friends with a lot of people, and there definitely weren't any single guys. I was just kind of the odd one out knowing only the bride and her family. Funny how things work like that sometimes. I lived with her for four years!

I have no new realizations about myself. The art class was a lot of fun but full of only females. The work was kind of intense so we didn't end up chatting a lot which in turn means I'll never see any of them again. I still haven't met up with the guy I'm interested in. My friend has to kind of set something up and she's in the midst of wedding planning so I can understand why my dating needs are not at the top of her list of priorities. I'm meeting with the friend of mine that lent me the book about the guy with overwhelming defense mechanisms so we can chat about it. She had to read it for school so I'm sure she'll help me understand some things or at the very least put them in perspective. I have to skim it again because since I've read it my brain has filled up and emptied twelve times with other things. I find my retention level decreases with each passing year.

Anyway, hope you all are enjoying the summer, if that is what season you are in :) or staying warm if it is winter.

I wonder what Lady Ga-Ga would think of me....

Brain on Fire

Luckily I've been so busy it hasn't dragged me down, but a lot has been going through my mind lately. It must be due to the book I'm ready about this 40 year old guy so isolated by his own defense mechanisms it took him almost 8 years of therapy to break out of them. I identify with a lot of his thought processes and it is freaking me out. Of course, he suffered abuse as a child and I did not - but that makes it even weirder. More on this when I finish the book.

Then I read an article about "the introvert". This article could have been written about me. The only difference between me and the woman in the article is I was not pathologically shy as a child (or have ever been divorced obviously).

"Matsuoka...is open to romantic relationships, but "whomever I'm with must know that at least one day a week I need to lock myself in my room and stick feathers on a sculpture," she warns."

My bff makes fun of me because I won't visit her on Sundays. Sundays are queenvee days. Lately it's actually been more than just Sundays because I have a lot of art/music projects going on and with being a slave to corporate America in order to live, there's never enough time. I have to have time away from work and people in order to clear my mind and create.

Anyway, it was nice to read something that validates instead of pities the way I live. Social interaction, though not hard for me, is a definite drain. I don't really enjoy being around a lot of people at once- I don't like having to make small talk which means I usually get pushed to the periphery for not participating which I also dislike. And it's not like I want the attention of the room either- there is a time and place for that. I'd just rather be with one or two friends chatting or doing whatever it is we do to entertain ourselves. I feel a little guilty because I told a lie to get out of a bachelorette party this weekend. It was after the shower which I did attend, but I knew I'd never last through an evening of bar hopping with girls I'd really just met. And I didn't want my friend to feel bad that I wasn't having fun so I came home. No harm, no foul and I got a little extra time for my latest art project.

Anyway, the weddings begin in two weeks. Come what may!

PS. There is someone I'm interested in, but until I see him again and find out if he might be interested in me mum's the word. I don't really know him (met him once and have heard things about him from mutual friends) but I can't stop thinking about him. It's making me feel like I'm 14 years old. Gaaah.

(In)Sane and Mortal

It's kind of funny how fleeting the feeling or mortality is. Every once in a while my body freezes up with the realization that an absurdly large amount of time has passed since I last thought about it, and yet it feels like only days. Which also means death has gotten that much closer without my knowing it...or changing the things I'd like to about my life. Then it passes and I'm lost in the oblivion of my daily routine again.

Unless I've taken a nose dive while frozen and ended up in a dark hole for months. But that hasn't happened in a while...

However I'm beginning to see how the definition of insanity attributed to Einstein, Rita Mae Brown and a Chinese proverb is suddenly applying to my life:

"Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results."

I get up, I go to work, I occasionally hang out with friends, I come home, I go to bed. And yet I expect to meet someone who will change my life. Granted I don't get up and think today's the day I might meet someone! I still think it will eventually happen. Maybe that only makes me half insane.

But you cannot discount the fact that there are people who end up meeting people who change their lives in the course of their daily routines. It happens. I still can't help wishing, after all these years and against all knowing better, it would happen to me. And like, today.

I signed up for an art class in an attempt to do something fun and try to meet new people. It starts in April. I used to make new friends so easily...I know it's the only way I'll ever meet anyone. I've just fallen into such a comfort zone with the friends I have. New ones take so much energy. And by energy I mean going out and making small talk and getting to know people in the most painfully slow manner. When did I become such a recluse? Oh right. I spose I've always been one to some extent it was just easier when I was trapped in certain learning institutions with others in the same situation as me.

Maybe I can blame alcohol. Maybe it would easier if I could just drink like the rest of the people in this culture. It's a cop out but hell, it's legitimate. It's an enormous pie piece in the chart of how people socialize in this city. I feel like I've been left off of invites because of it and I refuse to believe it's because of me. I don't make people feel bad about drinking or guilty because they are and I'm not. Whenever I am out at a bar I just quietly decline a drink for myself like it's no big deal. But in the end apparently it's enough to not want me around. Or at the very least forget that I'd like to be invited just to hang out. It sucks. But I'm getting whiney so I better stop.

So as you can see things haven't really changed, and I haven't written lately because of it. I'm hoping this art class at least gets me going in terms of leaving the apartment when I don't have to and maybe finding out about other things I can do around my neighborhood.

I have four weddings to attend this year. Have I mentioned that? The good news is only one of the brides is younger than me. I am taking part in two of them which is awesome because though I consider them both good friends, I did not expect them to ask me to participate. AND I found this sexy little dress to wear to hopefully more than one, if not only one of them.

So yay for good things! Fingers crossed I will stay on the high road and these weddings won't chill my mortality bones.

The Year Begins

Well that was quite a ride. I'm still a little dizzy but I'm back on the optimistic track, at least for now. It's funny how I can recognize the pattern and yet when I get to this stage it always feels different, like this time it will be true. This time it will happen.

I went down pretty hard this time, but without being totally aware of it. I mean, I knew I was feeling sad but I think I slipped into a kind of depression I've never felt before. This is a self-diagnosis of course so its inaccuracy could be phenomenal but I digress. Let's start at the beginning shall we?

I found some old emails from Jean. Actually, all of them. I'm a pack rat, what can I say? I saved them all to those old school floppy disks, along with everything else I ever wrote in college. When I finally found a drive that could read the disks I was inundated with what I had forgotten about my former self. I didn't have any of my emails to her, so I could only glean snippets of myself through her responses. It was very disturbing. Every email was like a love letter to me. I wondered if mine were the same to her. When we became friends the bond was so fast and so tight it seemed like we'd be friends forever, but I can't remember exactly how I worded my feelings. I can only hope it wasn't like hers to me- declarations of everlasting friendship and perfect soul mates with undertones of possession I never could have seen at the time. All of this sounds like a romantic interest, and it was in a Victorian sense. We did not have sexual feelings for each other, at least I didn't for her, but there was this romantic notion that our friendship was above any other, the kind great epic stories are made of, and we just knew we'd always be there for one another for the rest of our lives.

I should never have saved them let alone read through some of them again because it sent me back into a mind space I did not want to be. I still haven't thrown them out. I don't know why. I can't seem to let go and I know it's really screwing with my head. Anyway another round of analysis began and I realized that she was just the last in a line of much lesser betrayals that finally broke something in me. Since I ended that friendship I learned how to be friends with people while not letting them anywhere near my heart. I knew how overly sensitive I had become (or have always been) and in order to cope I just built walls everywhere. How do you stop a defense mechanism? How do you stop protecting yourself even though you know you're overreacting and shouldn't be hurt by certain things? This is my dilemma. I started thinking that I'll never fall in love because I'll never be able to let down the walls. All because of her. The hate and anger and pain all came rushing back.

By the end of December I couldn't stop thinking about how broken I felt and it manifested in tears. I was crying at the drop of a hat but at the same time didn't feel the usual heaviness I feel when depressed. While the tears gushed all I could think was why am I crying so hard? Just stop! This is ridiculous, cut it out! But they wouldn't. One morning I was 3 hours late to work because I literally couldn't get out of bed and when I did I happened to get a phone call from K. As soon as I hung up I cried for half an hour. It was getting out of control.

Then something went down with my brother which absolutely sent me reeling. He and my mother have had an unspoken tension between them for years now, but the older I get suddenly the more I find myself involved. To make an incredibly long story short, dealing with him when I was already feeling so down sprung a hysterical leak, and while on the phone with my mom. I don't know how she could understand me between sobs and erratic breathing but she managed to calm me down.

Christmas was hard, mostly because I was still crying a lot. Christmas Eve my mom and I had another talk which resulted in me crying for almost an hour, stifled as it was. That however, was my last cry. I think I just needed to get it all out, and by all I mean my anguish over this family drama as well as the residual pain I guess I'm still feeling from the self-loathing I carry around about how I let everything play out with Jean. I hate how she is still part of my life but I just need to come to terms with the fact that she is my history and always will be. I just can't let her keep being part of my present.

Since that night I haven't cried and have been much happier. I suppose it was kind of like a cleaning of the slate. I started the new year with some ambitions and so far have actually followed through. Work has been great, the apartment is great and I hold hope that I will actually do some new things this year, not just say I will. Life is hard enough as it is, I don't need to keep making it harder for myself. That's not to say I won't go down again, I'm pretty sure it's in my genes, but I can try to prevent myself from dwelling on useless things. Ah the optimism the new year brings.

May it have brought you some as well. :)

Scratch That

I try to be honest with myself. I do. But in reading over my last post for the eight hundredth time many of my answers just don't feel quite right. I realize there are a lot of things I tell myself to make living life the way I do bearable. I escape a lot into movies, tv, music...my own imagination, because they make me feel without complicating my life. I have managed to scrape away all the drama in my every day existence to the point where I feel numb. Only that's not quite right either. It's more like the absence of drama and emotion makes for such an even keel there is nothing to feel. I look around me and have to admit that everyone I know is at an equal arms length away from me. Even my closest friends, whom I love and know would do anything for me, are just outside that line where disappointment remains just that instead growing into hurt or anger, the gut feelings behind disappointment.

Is that lack of trust in people doing it? Or have I just accepted that life means being disappointed and hurt and angry at times so I've armored myself against dealing with it? As strong as I like to pretend I am, I know that I have the potential to shatter.

I also know I have the potential to be melodramatic, at least internally. I'm pretty sure no one would say I behave that way.

So how do you reconcile feeling like you're unraveling with feeling like you're being overly dramatic? Like your problem is both huge and irrelevant?

I just don't know. I've made myself sad now. I'm going to go ponder why I ever thought isolating myself inside a small group of friends was ever a good idea.

Here Goes Nothing...

Thanks to the two brave souls who asked questions!


1. What are you the most scared of when it comes to finding someone?

Hmmm...that is a really hard question I think because I've come to realize that over the years it has actually changed, or possibly become a foundation I've built other fears upon. In the beginning it was purely sex. I was scared to death of getting an STD or worse, pregnant. Then it became my independence. I didn't want to give up my time to have to spend with anyone. Then it became about the relationship itself. Like you anom, I became completely insecure about never having had one, but for me the fear was more about my behavior. How do I act? What do I do? Can I say no to things? What's expected of me?

Now? It's most likely a combination of all of those things put together, but for the most part it's gone back to the sex. I know most people say it's an awkward act anyway and that you can't really do it wrong so to speak, but that doesn't change the fact that I still feel like I can. I'm nervous that it will hurt but ultimately I think I'm just scared I'm going to embarrass myself.

About the relationship itself though? I have to admit I will most likely play it cool until I'm ready to tell him that I don't have a line of ex-boyfriends. I consider it something intimate that he will have earned knowing and it will probably step the relationship up if he's not freaked out by it. Actually I'm sure the virginity thing will come up at the same time so in essence it's all a matter of timing. I think the reason revealing not only my virginity but my non-relationship status is not my number one fear (it's definitely still a cause of anxiety) is that I most likely won't tell him until I'm comfortable with him. And if we are that deep into it, I mean, if I trust him enough and he gets to know me well and that's when he walks away, c'est la vie. Yes, it will suck and probably hurt like hell depending on how deeply I feel for him, but if such a side note in what makes me me bothers him enough to end it, he's not good enough for me. That is his issue to bear, not mine. I refuse to be humiliated by it. But messing up sex? My cheeks are already burning. It's silly I know, isn't it?

2. Go out with that guy you just wrote about.

Put simply? No. Why would I do that? I already feel bad enough for not liking him, why would I get his hopes up by going out with him? It's cruel. I cannot help that I am not attracted to him. I may like him even more if I go on a date, but that would only makes things twice as hard when there's still no spark. I don't believe that sparks can grow.

3 . Have you tried internet dating? If so why did you stop? If not, what are you waiting for?


I signed up for a free one once, but I don't think it really counts as trying. I need to meet people in person, I have a hard enough time trusting as it is. Via the internet I trust no one. Possibly not even myself. It will never work for me because I don't trust it.


4. When walking down the street, what percentage of men fitting your general demographic (race, age, etc) do you find yourself attracted to? Trying to get a sense of how picky you are about looks. Furthermore, do you really think looks are everything?

My demographic? Like .05%. I am of mixed ethnicity and though I'm in NYC, it's not a melting pot so much as a quilt as they say. And I'm not particularly looking for a half-American half-Asian man...though I wonder if that would be a common bond to start building on. I did meet a half-Australian half-Asian boy and I asked for his number mind you, but it was because I thought he was cute and was attracted to him, not because of his ethnicity (though in retrospect it was nice to have something in common at first glance). Most of the time though I'm not even looking. I'm either on the way to or from work, not man-seeing. This is something I'm trying to break myself of so I can tell for myself if my chemistry really is messed up.

As for looks- they are relative like everything else you find attractive about another person. They are important as far as they spark some attraction in me. I went on a few dates with a guy I thought was absolutely gorgeous, but there was absolutely no mental attraction. On the other hand, I have one guy friend I am mentally in step with in almost every way, but I'm not physically attracted to him. And I actually think he's cute. So no, looks aren't everything. But in most cases unfortunately it's the first thing that will get my attention. My standards don't include things like must be tall and have brown hair, but I will admit those things will probably make me look.


5. Why havent you sought therapy for your issues? Ive had many dating related issues and this has helped me get through them. You state at the beginning of this blog post that you have issues with men, sex and relationships so why not work on them.

I went to a psychologist once for a couple months, after I finally got away from Jean and was struggling with yet another different kind of overwhelming friendship. Because they were both with women, I never got to the men part. At the time I was greatly embarrassed by it because I felt that my dumb men issues didn't merit needing a therapist. I'm still of that mind set because I'm stubborn and still believe that one day I will meet a man who I am attracted to and who is attracted to me and all of this will be moot. I think at times I blow this whole thing out of proportion, and I don't really have a problem with men, I have a problem with the expectation to have one, the game of finding one and my deep aversion to wasting my time when it could be better spent doing something that makes me happy. Perhaps my issues simply all stem just from never having had sex or a relationship, but I'm not going to just go out and do either of them just to 'get over it'. I realize neither of them are that big a deal, but why force myself to do things that don't feel right? I have more respect for myself than that.


6. How many men have asked you out on dates that you have denied? I dont mean random idiots on the street but say people that you knew in one capacity or another.

[I must preface with I don't get asked out a lot, but it's because I apparently don't make myself approachable. Guys are intimidated by me but I'm not totally convinced my body language is the reason why. No offense guys, but most of you are not that observant. My best friend told me years after we graduated from high school that she knew a handful of guys that liked me but never said anything. Why? I don't know. I couldn't have had the same body language that I do now. I was not so jaded then...]

Two. The first was in college. He lived down the hall and was very sweet. He surprised me one day by putting glow in the dark stars on my ceiling after I had seen them in someone else's room and said I liked them. At that point I was too scared of everything to actually date someone, especially someone on the floor where it could become very awkward. We ended up becoming good friends though and stayed that way until I stopped speaking to Jean.
The other was a few years ago. A man I worked with was let go and a few months later he sent me flowers. I always knew he kind of liked me, but he was twice my age and we had very little in common besides working for the same company. He understood and told me he had to give it a shot. 


You forgot a few...
6a. How many have I said yes to?

To official date requests, that is to say he said the words "do you want to go out?" Four. I've been on a few other unofficial dates where it was just me and a guy but no one ever said the word 'date'.

6b. How many men have I asked out?

Two. The first was Dennis, that story is here. The second was Red, and that ended in disaster as we all know.

So I've actually come to a conclusion having gone back over the few number of men I've interacted with in a boy meets girl kind of way. It seems when I finally find a guy I am attracted to, in most cases I don't sit back and stare. I asked out two guys. Not many women can say that. I asked two other guys for their numbers. Well technically I gave Vincenzio my number, but it was before he asked for it so that counts. I got his in exchange. And the half-australian half-asian guy.

So I'm not afraid of dating it seems, because I want to do it when I find guys I'm interested in, I just don't want to date guys I'm not interested in. The problem is I have very limited exposure to new guys to be attracted to and want to date. And there it is. No wait, here it is. The problem is I have limited exposure to new guys to be attracted to because I don't enjoy being social and meeting random people at parties at bars, feel bad if/when I do meet a guy who is decent and clearly likes me but am not attracted to, still have some issues with the time commitment and overall don't have the energy or desire to get over myself and go be social at parties and bars, stop worrying about nice guys' feelings and being selfish with my time. I want him to find me and make time expand. Is that so gaddam much to ask?


7. What kind of work do you do?

Let's just say I consider myself extremely lucky to enjoy what I do. After 4 years of paying my dues, 3 of which I was a miserable mess, my professional life is at an all time high. I get to be creative and use the one talent I actually believe in to make a living. This is sometimes why I believe my personal life is out of balance (at least in my head). Can't have both or it would be too much, you know?

Open Letter To You!

Dear Readers:

Do you ever get the feeling you are repeating yourself? I'm beginning to feel my blog is becoming just that. Different ways to state the obvious: I have issues with men, sex and relationships. In many ways I know why I do some of the things I do but feel powerless to change my behavior so therefore nothing changes. I have bouts of good and bad periods. The posts usually come when I've gone through or are going through a bad period. Case in point- I saw a guy today who I'm pretty sure likes me. I can pretend to be oblivious, but it was all in his body language. He is a friend of a friend and is extremely sweet. His demeanor is exactly what I'm always saying I want but doesn't exist in American men, totally proving that I'm an ass, and I should absolutely go for him.

But I'm not attracted to him.

And I hate myself for it.

This is why I don't date. I would drown in self-loathing before we ever made it to drinks.

But I won't bore you with more of that now. A new reader recently suggested I do a Q & A. I know I recently gave an interview but I figured I'd take my chances and see if there are any readers out there who do actually have questions they'd like to ask me. My sitemeter tells me I have readers from all over the world, but I don't know how many of you come back. I don't get a lot of comments or emails! Anyway, since I have nothing new to write, I thought you all could ask questions or even suggest things you'd like to hear me go on about. :)

I'm open to anything!

Comment or email me!

Love,
QV

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.