Oh Terrible Saturday
Dec/17/11 01:49 PM
Today is the day I realized something is WRONG. I’m such a sensitive ball of indecision and self-questioning these days I can’t move forward on anything. I got a “I’m erasing your contact info” email from this girl I hooked up with recently. Because I’m “not into communicating.” Nicely done, psycho.
What happened there? Well it’s actually a pretty funny story if you’re on the outside of it. Here we go:
So I have a friendquaintance™ who works in my industry. Did I tell this story already? Who cares, you’re gonna read it again. My part of the business usually pays for his part, so he got his bosses to let him take me to lunch. After a couple of weeks of rescheduling and dancing around actually doing it, we met up one Friday afternoon at a really interesting old “nice” restaurant near Union Square. It’s apparently famous for being the “first” “fine dining” “restaurant” to “allow” it’s customers to dress casually. Note the quotes? I love sarcasm. I love irony. Do whatever you want with the implications of those quotes.
So during lunch he asks me if I’m going to this party he’d heard one of our mutual friendquaintances was throwing at her apartment. I responded, “Why of course not, I only ever hear about those parties AFTER they happen. And by ‘hear about’ I mean ‘see the amazing fun in picture form on facebook’.” He apologized sheepishly and confessed to also not really being invited. Seems he had run into this girl randomly a few days before and she had mentioned a party, with few details.
So I returned to work, determined to find out about and actually attend this party. Because I’m a newly super social amazingly positive guy now. I really amn’t. How did I accomplish my mission? Well through a combination of subterfuge and direct confrontation, of course. I gchatted a friend I knew would most certainly have been invited to this shindig, if it existed, and asked him if he was “going to the party.” He was like, “yes, of course, are you?” To which I appropriately replied, “HAHAHA I fooled you! I didn’t even know for sure there WAS a party!!!”
Wow my stories are long. We haven’t even gotten to the girl yet, have we? Ok, I met her at this party. A few weeks later we met up for drinks, and it was great but also weird. She kept freaking out at random moments. I noticed that the freak-out was generally at the same time as I was making gestures of affection. Like with my hands. You know. Gestures. Anyway she would tense up, back away and actually express that she was suddenly freaked out. She would go on to say that she knew it was weird to freak out and that she apologized and it would pass. I would later find out that at those moments I had done something to make her think that I was gay. As in homosexual. Never mind that she took me home that night (no sex).
All this she confessed the next time we met. We had drinks, she told me she wasn’t sure I was straight, and that night i went home alone because come on. A guy can only take it up the ass so often, right? Anyway, we still made out a little, but the cracks were there in the newly molded relationship. Big cracks with red flags peeping out. I don’t think I’m cut out to be with the type of girl who interprets a guy brushing hair out of her face as a declaration of gayness. It’s affection, for fuck’s sake.
Fast forward to having sex at my place. That night we had gotten drinks, and then food, and then despite my protests of a super seriously tense workday and my insisting that I would be really stressed out all night, she guilted me into going to her place. And then when I just couldn’t relax, we went to my place. We got there super late, and I was super nervous about not getting enough sleep. But of course at that stage of a relationship, a guy is expected to only think and feel with his dick. We all know this. We all know that sometimes it’s just not going to happen, though. Am I strange? I’m an adult with a heavy dose of being rational, I was crazy tired, feeling a little pressured to perform, and all I could think about was how unprepared I was for the deadline looming the next day. So. We made out, we went to bed, we had sex, it was bland and I was not super into it. I stopped. We made out a little and then she was like “I want to do it again.” I took a deep look inside me and decided I didn’t have it in me to get it up again with the current level of weirdness between us, her lack of wiggliness and aversion to the expression of passion (at one point she told me I was making too much noise... real turn-on), and my intensely tired state (it was now 2:30). I said, sorry, I can’t. She said, “Oh my god you really ARE gay!” To the naked man with his arms around her in bed, post sex. Really good move.
And now I’m the asshole. She just emailed me to tell me she’s deleting my contact info and she has unfriended me on facebook. There was more weirdness that sort of pushed me away in the days following the sex debacle, but the point is I’ve been ignoring her.
The point is today sucks. Saturday. My day to unwind. Instead I’m getting dumped AGAIN and staring at the computer. Not eating. Not cleaning. Not writing (this doesn’t count). Not calling this freelance gig back. GUH. Something’s wrong!
What happened there? Well it’s actually a pretty funny story if you’re on the outside of it. Here we go:
So I have a friendquaintance™ who works in my industry. Did I tell this story already? Who cares, you’re gonna read it again. My part of the business usually pays for his part, so he got his bosses to let him take me to lunch. After a couple of weeks of rescheduling and dancing around actually doing it, we met up one Friday afternoon at a really interesting old “nice” restaurant near Union Square. It’s apparently famous for being the “first” “fine dining” “restaurant” to “allow” it’s customers to dress casually. Note the quotes? I love sarcasm. I love irony. Do whatever you want with the implications of those quotes.
So during lunch he asks me if I’m going to this party he’d heard one of our mutual friendquaintances was throwing at her apartment. I responded, “Why of course not, I only ever hear about those parties AFTER they happen. And by ‘hear about’ I mean ‘see the amazing fun in picture form on facebook’.” He apologized sheepishly and confessed to also not really being invited. Seems he had run into this girl randomly a few days before and she had mentioned a party, with few details.
So I returned to work, determined to find out about and actually attend this party. Because I’m a newly super social amazingly positive guy now. I really amn’t. How did I accomplish my mission? Well through a combination of subterfuge and direct confrontation, of course. I gchatted a friend I knew would most certainly have been invited to this shindig, if it existed, and asked him if he was “going to the party.” He was like, “yes, of course, are you?” To which I appropriately replied, “HAHAHA I fooled you! I didn’t even know for sure there WAS a party!!!”
Wow my stories are long. We haven’t even gotten to the girl yet, have we? Ok, I met her at this party. A few weeks later we met up for drinks, and it was great but also weird. She kept freaking out at random moments. I noticed that the freak-out was generally at the same time as I was making gestures of affection. Like with my hands. You know. Gestures. Anyway she would tense up, back away and actually express that she was suddenly freaked out. She would go on to say that she knew it was weird to freak out and that she apologized and it would pass. I would later find out that at those moments I had done something to make her think that I was gay. As in homosexual. Never mind that she took me home that night (no sex).
All this she confessed the next time we met. We had drinks, she told me she wasn’t sure I was straight, and that night i went home alone because come on. A guy can only take it up the ass so often, right? Anyway, we still made out a little, but the cracks were there in the newly molded relationship. Big cracks with red flags peeping out. I don’t think I’m cut out to be with the type of girl who interprets a guy brushing hair out of her face as a declaration of gayness. It’s affection, for fuck’s sake.
Fast forward to having sex at my place. That night we had gotten drinks, and then food, and then despite my protests of a super seriously tense workday and my insisting that I would be really stressed out all night, she guilted me into going to her place. And then when I just couldn’t relax, we went to my place. We got there super late, and I was super nervous about not getting enough sleep. But of course at that stage of a relationship, a guy is expected to only think and feel with his dick. We all know this. We all know that sometimes it’s just not going to happen, though. Am I strange? I’m an adult with a heavy dose of being rational, I was crazy tired, feeling a little pressured to perform, and all I could think about was how unprepared I was for the deadline looming the next day. So. We made out, we went to bed, we had sex, it was bland and I was not super into it. I stopped. We made out a little and then she was like “I want to do it again.” I took a deep look inside me and decided I didn’t have it in me to get it up again with the current level of weirdness between us, her lack of wiggliness and aversion to the expression of passion (at one point she told me I was making too much noise... real turn-on), and my intensely tired state (it was now 2:30). I said, sorry, I can’t. She said, “Oh my god you really ARE gay!” To the naked man with his arms around her in bed, post sex. Really good move.
And now I’m the asshole. She just emailed me to tell me she’s deleting my contact info and she has unfriended me on facebook. There was more weirdness that sort of pushed me away in the days following the sex debacle, but the point is I’ve been ignoring her.
The point is today sucks. Saturday. My day to unwind. Instead I’m getting dumped AGAIN and staring at the computer. Not eating. Not cleaning. Not writing (this doesn’t count). Not calling this freelance gig back. GUH. Something’s wrong!
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Too Much Too Soon
Dec/02/11 09:04 PM
First order of business: In the coming weeks (ok, probably this weekend) I will be experimenting with converting this site to a wordpress dealie. Currently I use Rapidweaver, which is this super cheap but pretty flexible template-based web design program that gets bundled into those MacHeist/MacUpdate things with the 10 pretty good shareware programs for the price of one... blah blah blah highly recommended but. Going to hope I don’t fuck this blog up for too long. The point is to be able to update during the day from the web.
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Just got back from Los Angeles where I, among other things, met this super beguiling siren:
Of course when I was introduced to her I had no idea she was this indie darling. Wouldn’t have mattered. She was that charming kind of spacey that guys like me wish they could fall into completely, but know our cynicism would ruin it after like a week. We talked (in a group) about how she hates babies but loves kids, and that none of the seances she’s been involved in have ever featured levitation. I’m not spelling out her name here because it feels weird spilling the contents of that dinner even a little bit. But I’ll hint and say the dinner involved some other semi famous yet warm and wonderful people, and I wish I was back there sharing Thai food right now.
OK. Now. The love life. Blah blah summer fling girl says one thing, does a different thing then manages to twist everything in such a way as to keep me from having a solid, describable basis for being upset, and by the way no more sex. Waah wwaahhh waahhhhh!! She called me at work the other day livid, with a catch in her throat that told me she was hurting, too. Seems some prick she knows had made some fucked up comment about us having sex and she decided to direct all of the rage and helplessness that stirred up in her at me. She said I betrayed her to my coworkers by telling them about us. I don’t think that’s true, but whatever. I reacted poorly, shutting down and forgetting everything I might have said to defend myself or make her feel better. She hung up on me. Some dude called me a couple nights later from her phone at about 1:45AM. I hung up on him. It turned out that was someone who found her phone supposedly lost in a taxi. Who cares? Now she wants to talk shit out so we get along at the holiday party and the fucking company fucking ski trip we’re all going to be at. I ask you again, who cares? I’m not going to play the game with her anymore. YAY!
On another note: Met/dated three really great women recently, all over 30, thank god. There’s three of them, which sucks. I know the inevitable “you mean you’re dating someone else?” thing may come up. I don’t know, I’ve never dated multiple 30+ year olds at once, so they may be more realistic than I expect. And let me clarify, we’re talking first dates, not fucking marriage and trips upstate. But I think it’s time to stop apologizing for looking for love. At the same time it’s probable that none of these girls are right for me anyway. None of them ever may be.
This is fun:
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Just got back from Los Angeles where I, among other things, met this super beguiling siren:
Of course when I was introduced to her I had no idea she was this indie darling. Wouldn’t have mattered. She was that charming kind of spacey that guys like me wish they could fall into completely, but know our cynicism would ruin it after like a week. We talked (in a group) about how she hates babies but loves kids, and that none of the seances she’s been involved in have ever featured levitation. I’m not spelling out her name here because it feels weird spilling the contents of that dinner even a little bit. But I’ll hint and say the dinner involved some other semi famous yet warm and wonderful people, and I wish I was back there sharing Thai food right now.
OK. Now. The love life. Blah blah summer fling girl says one thing, does a different thing then manages to twist everything in such a way as to keep me from having a solid, describable basis for being upset, and by the way no more sex. Waah wwaahhh waahhhhh!! She called me at work the other day livid, with a catch in her throat that told me she was hurting, too. Seems some prick she knows had made some fucked up comment about us having sex and she decided to direct all of the rage and helplessness that stirred up in her at me. She said I betrayed her to my coworkers by telling them about us. I don’t think that’s true, but whatever. I reacted poorly, shutting down and forgetting everything I might have said to defend myself or make her feel better. She hung up on me. Some dude called me a couple nights later from her phone at about 1:45AM. I hung up on him. It turned out that was someone who found her phone supposedly lost in a taxi. Who cares? Now she wants to talk shit out so we get along at the holiday party and the fucking company fucking ski trip we’re all going to be at. I ask you again, who cares? I’m not going to play the game with her anymore. YAY!
On another note: Met/dated three really great women recently, all over 30, thank god. There’s three of them, which sucks. I know the inevitable “you mean you’re dating someone else?” thing may come up. I don’t know, I’ve never dated multiple 30+ year olds at once, so they may be more realistic than I expect. And let me clarify, we’re talking first dates, not fucking marriage and trips upstate. But I think it’s time to stop apologizing for looking for love. At the same time it’s probable that none of these girls are right for me anyway. None of them ever may be.
This is fun:
The Summer Fling Turning Point
Nov/22/11 08:12 AM
So this morning I’m waiting for an appraiser to come and assign a value to my apartment. Depending on what he says, I will be able to then refinance to a loan with drastically lower payments. This will allow me to either get a car or rent this fucker out so I can drag my ass out of exile. FINALLY. But it is not at all a sure thing.
While we wait I will continue the saga of the summer romance that never wasn’t. Ok, I’m at karaoke getting royally toasted with some friends. Side note, this chick at the karaoke put on a song she wasn’t sure how to sing, so I bravely waded in with a mic to help her out...but I was so unsure that I made a few comments between choruses to the effect of “Wow, I’m not sure of the words here.” She wasn’t singing at all by this time but took the opportunity to literally tell me to stop if I couldn’t take it seriously. No on tells someone who’s nervous about singing to STOP. Major breach of karaoke etiquette and it damn near ruined my fun. Let that be a lesson to us all.
Ok. I get a text from the summer fling that she really wants to hang out later and is that possible... And because I REALLY like hanging out with this girl I say yes. This, by the way is the perfect opportunity to explain that this summer I chose on several occasions to ditch plans with friends in favor of spending secret time with the girl. Of course almost every one of those occasions ended in her going home early or heading to some other engagement after an hour. Which meant that I was left having tossed out a chance to solidify friendships for the meager crumbs of her time she was willing to give me. She never did the same to see me. Which saying it out loud now after the fact makes things fairly clear. Isn’t hindsight amazing?
Blah blah, she gets dolled up and meets me and the birthday party friends at the rooftop bar of the Koreatown La Quinta. She was stunning. And friendly. And I was WAAAAASTED but pulling it off. I wish I could remember more about that conversation, but the important bit I took away was this: She said something to the effect of, “At some point in the future I think we could have a great relationship.” Have I mentioned that she had, over the course of this thing, done a LOT of that sort of thing? There was the time she got royally jealous of me talking to other girls at a company party. There was the nuzzling into my neck on a park bench before work. ETC ETC. So then she goes, “Lets go get something to eat!”
This was a big shock for me and a delightful surprise. She had prefaced the night with the usual “I can only stay out for about 40 minutes” bullshit, but now she wanted to go get a late dinner with me. Joy and sunshine things are turning around! So we exit the bar, I apologize to the friends, and hit the street. The street which is deserted. Koreatown dies after a certain point, but never fear, this is Manhattan after all, so I begin to walk us toward Broadway saying something about the Odeon or something. She stops me and says “Well I guess I’ll just go home now.”
Fuck. Really. A cab stops and I put her in, then decide to get in too. I’m still not sure why I got in, but I was mad and upset. She tells the cab driver where to go and reminds me I can’t come over to her place, to which I responded that I knew, I just wanted to get to the same neighborhood to hook back up with the birthday friends (they were heading down there too). The rest of the cab ride I couldn’t bring myself to talk to her or look at her. I was clearrrrrrly upset and she tried to ask me why, etc. Her response was that I had known she needed to head home early so what was the problem? Well, no shit... but that was BEFORE the conversation about ending up together and the “I’m dying to eat let’s go” bullshit!!!
Anyway, my getting mad in that cab was the end of us, in effect. We saw each other one-on-one a few more times alone, but never did anything physical. She moved into a new apartment and I came over, but by then something had seriously shifted. She carried herself as though she was afraid one false move would send me immediately and irrevocably into lovetown. Which is to say she was mildly cold and distant. I got on better with her roommate. Unfortunately she has been unable to really talk about it to this day. Beyond the one phrase I will never forget which she said on our last date, “I wanted to be able to just get dirty and fuck around with you, but that can never happen now.”
Thanks, bitch. Thanks. I really appreciate that.
While we wait I will continue the saga of the summer romance that never wasn’t. Ok, I’m at karaoke getting royally toasted with some friends. Side note, this chick at the karaoke put on a song she wasn’t sure how to sing, so I bravely waded in with a mic to help her out...but I was so unsure that I made a few comments between choruses to the effect of “Wow, I’m not sure of the words here.” She wasn’t singing at all by this time but took the opportunity to literally tell me to stop if I couldn’t take it seriously. No on tells someone who’s nervous about singing to STOP. Major breach of karaoke etiquette and it damn near ruined my fun. Let that be a lesson to us all.
Ok. I get a text from the summer fling that she really wants to hang out later and is that possible... And because I REALLY like hanging out with this girl I say yes. This, by the way is the perfect opportunity to explain that this summer I chose on several occasions to ditch plans with friends in favor of spending secret time with the girl. Of course almost every one of those occasions ended in her going home early or heading to some other engagement after an hour. Which meant that I was left having tossed out a chance to solidify friendships for the meager crumbs of her time she was willing to give me. She never did the same to see me. Which saying it out loud now after the fact makes things fairly clear. Isn’t hindsight amazing?
Blah blah, she gets dolled up and meets me and the birthday party friends at the rooftop bar of the Koreatown La Quinta. She was stunning. And friendly. And I was WAAAAASTED but pulling it off. I wish I could remember more about that conversation, but the important bit I took away was this: She said something to the effect of, “At some point in the future I think we could have a great relationship.” Have I mentioned that she had, over the course of this thing, done a LOT of that sort of thing? There was the time she got royally jealous of me talking to other girls at a company party. There was the nuzzling into my neck on a park bench before work. ETC ETC. So then she goes, “Lets go get something to eat!”
This was a big shock for me and a delightful surprise. She had prefaced the night with the usual “I can only stay out for about 40 minutes” bullshit, but now she wanted to go get a late dinner with me. Joy and sunshine things are turning around! So we exit the bar, I apologize to the friends, and hit the street. The street which is deserted. Koreatown dies after a certain point, but never fear, this is Manhattan after all, so I begin to walk us toward Broadway saying something about the Odeon or something. She stops me and says “Well I guess I’ll just go home now.”
Fuck. Really. A cab stops and I put her in, then decide to get in too. I’m still not sure why I got in, but I was mad and upset. She tells the cab driver where to go and reminds me I can’t come over to her place, to which I responded that I knew, I just wanted to get to the same neighborhood to hook back up with the birthday friends (they were heading down there too). The rest of the cab ride I couldn’t bring myself to talk to her or look at her. I was clearrrrrrly upset and she tried to ask me why, etc. Her response was that I had known she needed to head home early so what was the problem? Well, no shit... but that was BEFORE the conversation about ending up together and the “I’m dying to eat let’s go” bullshit!!!
Anyway, my getting mad in that cab was the end of us, in effect. We saw each other one-on-one a few more times alone, but never did anything physical. She moved into a new apartment and I came over, but by then something had seriously shifted. She carried herself as though she was afraid one false move would send me immediately and irrevocably into lovetown. Which is to say she was mildly cold and distant. I got on better with her roommate. Unfortunately she has been unable to really talk about it to this day. Beyond the one phrase I will never forget which she said on our last date, “I wanted to be able to just get dirty and fuck around with you, but that can never happen now.”
Thanks, bitch. Thanks. I really appreciate that.
The Summer Fling Part 2
Nov/16/11 09:05 PM
So this thing (see the last entry if you’re confused) has had me all torn up and shiz inside, so I mentioned yesterday’s torturous phone call to my shrink this morning. She very successfully urged me to give thinking about this chick a break for a while. I somehow managed to carry that into the day and ended up having a fairly positive workday. But now I’m home and it’s story time.
So, actually... I don’t know if I’m up to a full continuation of the saga. Let me endeavor to summarize in a way that is both thorough and brief while managing to entertain at least a little... or maybe I’ll just go to sleep even EARLIER tonight.
...
...
...
Ok that’s actually what I did... ok not really. I got instant messaged on okcupid and sucked into a polite conversation about nothing in particular.
Here’s the continuation: The immediate events following our intense make-out session are hazy to me. But eventually she came to my super far from everything neighborhood and we eventually had sex. And then we had a ton of sex. And then we had sex at her apartment which set off a cascade of guilt behavior in her because HER ex hadn’t officially moved out yet (he was out of the state at the time though and we got nowhere near the bed...which seems to make it hotter somehow? whatevs). We shared more secrets and grew closer.
Eventually her life began to fill with other engagements. She had a wedding to attend out of state with a gaggle of friends who she shared with the ex who was also there. She never un-relationshipped him on facebook. She began to be busy every night. But she made time to hang out BEFORE her dinner plans, etc., every now and then. So I had to make do with 45 minutes here, and a quick 20 minutes before work there. By now we were only talking and hugging and holding hands. I invited her to a few things, most of which she passed on. A few times she accepted my invitations and we had a lot of fun together... But I started to get frustrated by the restricted visitation schedule. I mean what the hell, I’m supposed to be ok with crumbs after I’ve tasted the meal? Gross analogy, I know, but I mean it in a whole package sense.
From the beginning she would stop and tell me that she wasn’t ready for anything serious and make some other noises that indicated to me she was not in the market for a relationship that would be long-term. To be honest with “you,” I don’t think she ever really expressed how she thought shit should work out between us, but after her unavailability began to clearly upset me, she fell back on “I was very clear about what I wanted from the beginning.” Which to me implied that she had decided to have zero emotional attachment to our relationship. Which of course I intellectually agreed with, but seriously... come ON.
At this point in the retelling I’m beginning to feel really sorry for this girl. That of course was not my intention when I set out to get it all out here. But honestly, the only adult relationship she had for her entire adult life was over after 7 years. What the fuck did I think I was doing? I mean holy fucking hell. And she seemed to be asking me for a “friends with benefits” situation. The only problem was that the benefits part was rapidly drying up. And so was the friends part, as far as I was concerned. No one likes to be sidelined in early relationship forming stages, even if it’s just as friends. And I was being sidelined. And getting upset ( as I mentioned). Everything came to a head one night I’ll never forget. It was my friend’s birthday, and his wife had rented a karaoke room to have a suuuuper sweet party with a few friends. The girl had mentioned being able to hang out, but only for a half hour, to which I was proudly able to reply that I wasn’t actually able to see her at all, as I had friends too thank you very much. But things changed.
I’ve got a serious itch to cut to the ending, but this unexpected turn in my feelings is promising. I think I’ll do the longer version and continue the story in part 3.
So, actually... I don’t know if I’m up to a full continuation of the saga. Let me endeavor to summarize in a way that is both thorough and brief while managing to entertain at least a little... or maybe I’ll just go to sleep even EARLIER tonight.
...
...
...
Ok that’s actually what I did... ok not really. I got instant messaged on okcupid and sucked into a polite conversation about nothing in particular.
Here’s the continuation: The immediate events following our intense make-out session are hazy to me. But eventually she came to my super far from everything neighborhood and we eventually had sex. And then we had a ton of sex. And then we had sex at her apartment which set off a cascade of guilt behavior in her because HER ex hadn’t officially moved out yet (he was out of the state at the time though and we got nowhere near the bed...which seems to make it hotter somehow? whatevs). We shared more secrets and grew closer.
Eventually her life began to fill with other engagements. She had a wedding to attend out of state with a gaggle of friends who she shared with the ex who was also there. She never un-relationshipped him on facebook. She began to be busy every night. But she made time to hang out BEFORE her dinner plans, etc., every now and then. So I had to make do with 45 minutes here, and a quick 20 minutes before work there. By now we were only talking and hugging and holding hands. I invited her to a few things, most of which she passed on. A few times she accepted my invitations and we had a lot of fun together... But I started to get frustrated by the restricted visitation schedule. I mean what the hell, I’m supposed to be ok with crumbs after I’ve tasted the meal? Gross analogy, I know, but I mean it in a whole package sense.
From the beginning she would stop and tell me that she wasn’t ready for anything serious and make some other noises that indicated to me she was not in the market for a relationship that would be long-term. To be honest with “you,” I don’t think she ever really expressed how she thought shit should work out between us, but after her unavailability began to clearly upset me, she fell back on “I was very clear about what I wanted from the beginning.” Which to me implied that she had decided to have zero emotional attachment to our relationship. Which of course I intellectually agreed with, but seriously... come ON.
At this point in the retelling I’m beginning to feel really sorry for this girl. That of course was not my intention when I set out to get it all out here. But honestly, the only adult relationship she had for her entire adult life was over after 7 years. What the fuck did I think I was doing? I mean holy fucking hell. And she seemed to be asking me for a “friends with benefits” situation. The only problem was that the benefits part was rapidly drying up. And so was the friends part, as far as I was concerned. No one likes to be sidelined in early relationship forming stages, even if it’s just as friends. And I was being sidelined. And getting upset ( as I mentioned). Everything came to a head one night I’ll never forget. It was my friend’s birthday, and his wife had rented a karaoke room to have a suuuuper sweet party with a few friends. The girl had mentioned being able to hang out, but only for a half hour, to which I was proudly able to reply that I wasn’t actually able to see her at all, as I had friends too thank you very much. But things changed.
I’ve got a serious itch to cut to the ending, but this unexpected turn in my feelings is promising. I think I’ll do the longer version and continue the story in part 3.
The Summer Fling Part 1
Nov/15/11 08:23 PM
Ok, y’all get ready for some seriously long and whiney shit. Summer fling 2011 all came crumbling down today. First things first, a song to get you in the mood:
Listen to that while we continue. This is going to be the story of my summer’s interoffice romance gone wrong. It’s been a seriously heavy source of pain and angst for me CONTINUOUSLY since June and it’s either entered a new, higher level of painful shit eating, or it’s about to finally terminate forever. I don’t know where to start and I don’t want to leave anything out, but I’m not perfect, so here goes.
We have a sister company that does a certain part of the work we do on every project. We’re in direct contact with them every day, and the bosses/owners are best friends and all that shit. Ok, a “really hot” girl works at this place. The quotes are to indicate that all the dudes in the office and the peripheral dudes that come in and out as producers or what-not have major hard-ons for this girl. At one point she had a boyfriend. At the same point I had a girlfriend. We both ceased having significant others at the same time. Her story is fairly interesting, but I’m not so sure it’s relevant to this catharsis. We both had to live with out exes for a while post-breakup.
Her company had a party one night and I went, along with all of my coworkers. I think she and I had begun to ichat a little more intensely than regular work colleagues would up to this point, too. There had been flirting. But I was more or less ignored by her at this party, which was fine because I was chatted up by a very cute half black half korean girl, who i subsequently never called. I wasn’t ready to date yet. Ok, so the party winds down and the bosses start talking about heading to a strip club. They also invite her to come. I think it’s all a big joke but it’s totally not. Totally and completely not a joke. When she arrives at the club we’re already a few drinks in and a few dollars poorer. Coming back from the bathroom at one point I see the girl putting a dollar in a stripper’s g-string and getting groped with a smile on her face. Major turn on, and extremely unexpected, like I had walked in on something I wasn’t intended to see. She and I talk for a while and she tells me about the terrible fight she’s just had with her ex and how she’s going to have to sleep at work. I tell her she can crash at my place because MY ex is out of town at the moment and there’s an air mattress. One of the clients who happens to be best friends buddy buddy with her overhears and takes note. He’s married but doesn’t wear his ring. He also takes the office ladies out drinking regularly without wifey.
Anyway she refuses, etc, etc. But somehow over the next few days she lets me know that she had actually been very into our conversation, and that she would want to get a drink. This is where the retelling starts to hurt a little, and I think I can stop with the robotic announcement of the story’s bullet points now. So I’m pretty sure she’d gotten my phone number by now and she’s making noises about how forward she’s been in telling me she wants to go out for drinks. And at this point I’m genuinely getting the impression that she’s fairly old fashioned - slash - inexperienced. She had been with this boyfriend 7 years, since the tender age of maybe 19. This put her firmly in 26 and in my mind as a sort of quasi virgin with weak emotional defenses and little experience in the bedroom. Someone to be gentle with and protective of. WOW, was that the wrong impression to have formed. In fact at one point further on she would emphasize that there had been an understanding in her relationship that when he went on tour (in a band, of course), he would do what he wanted and so would she. Rest assured, she told me, she’s had much experience. Hmm. That was a red flag I failed to take seriously, now wasn’t it?
Ok, so we continue our internet chatting during work hours that lasts all day, and I’m having a good time. Meanwhile my ex had returned “home” and was getting ready to move out for good. Very sad shit. So the weekend in which she is to move out arrives and everything’s shitty with us. I kept hoping to be able to have a lovely closure thing happen, and instead we kept spoiling it, and she’s sleeping on her couch and being super excited about leaving. This is the end of May. Wow. wow. On saturday the girl invites me to come to some event she’s going to be at that’s much closer to my place than her apartment. I’m excited, but she says she’s there with her boss, and after I look it up I see it’s also got a cover and is fairly stupid, so I do the social equivalent of just putting the tip in: I tell her I’m going to be at a bar near there and welcome her to a drink if she leaves the event early.
She does leave the event. She does come to my bar for a drink. We do end up making out, and she does grab my cock through my pants outside the bar and breathlessly ask me to come home with her. It’s the day before my ex moves out. I tell her that i can’t, and I explain why and she understands. But of course we make out a while longer and she asks a few more times. It’s interesting to find yourself in this type of moment as an aged and wizened adult of 34 (35th birthday came soon after). I remember doing the math in my head. It involved consciously balancing the sure thing of the moment with the wrongness of not coming home the night before the ex moves out of my life for good. I knew that either choice (go with girl or go home) was a mistake. In fact I’ve found myself more and more in situations where I’m forced to make a choice between two shitty outcomes. I’d like to be able to pick a good one every now and then.
I returned home to a shitty and sad night, sure that I had been forced to forever miss the opportunity of sleeping with the girl. I also felt pretty great about doing the good guy thing, despite my disappointment. It would be the last time for a long time that I would make the right choice in this budding romance. I’ll continue this story tomorrow. Teaser: today, 5 months later, she yelled at me and hung up in my face, blaming me for everything that has gone wrong between us while simultaneously denying that anything had gone wrong AND that there was an “us” to begin with. Lovely.
Listen to that while we continue. This is going to be the story of my summer’s interoffice romance gone wrong. It’s been a seriously heavy source of pain and angst for me CONTINUOUSLY since June and it’s either entered a new, higher level of painful shit eating, or it’s about to finally terminate forever. I don’t know where to start and I don’t want to leave anything out, but I’m not perfect, so here goes.
We have a sister company that does a certain part of the work we do on every project. We’re in direct contact with them every day, and the bosses/owners are best friends and all that shit. Ok, a “really hot” girl works at this place. The quotes are to indicate that all the dudes in the office and the peripheral dudes that come in and out as producers or what-not have major hard-ons for this girl. At one point she had a boyfriend. At the same point I had a girlfriend. We both ceased having significant others at the same time. Her story is fairly interesting, but I’m not so sure it’s relevant to this catharsis. We both had to live with out exes for a while post-breakup.
Her company had a party one night and I went, along with all of my coworkers. I think she and I had begun to ichat a little more intensely than regular work colleagues would up to this point, too. There had been flirting. But I was more or less ignored by her at this party, which was fine because I was chatted up by a very cute half black half korean girl, who i subsequently never called. I wasn’t ready to date yet. Ok, so the party winds down and the bosses start talking about heading to a strip club. They also invite her to come. I think it’s all a big joke but it’s totally not. Totally and completely not a joke. When she arrives at the club we’re already a few drinks in and a few dollars poorer. Coming back from the bathroom at one point I see the girl putting a dollar in a stripper’s g-string and getting groped with a smile on her face. Major turn on, and extremely unexpected, like I had walked in on something I wasn’t intended to see. She and I talk for a while and she tells me about the terrible fight she’s just had with her ex and how she’s going to have to sleep at work. I tell her she can crash at my place because MY ex is out of town at the moment and there’s an air mattress. One of the clients who happens to be best friends buddy buddy with her overhears and takes note. He’s married but doesn’t wear his ring. He also takes the office ladies out drinking regularly without wifey.
Anyway she refuses, etc, etc. But somehow over the next few days she lets me know that she had actually been very into our conversation, and that she would want to get a drink. This is where the retelling starts to hurt a little, and I think I can stop with the robotic announcement of the story’s bullet points now. So I’m pretty sure she’d gotten my phone number by now and she’s making noises about how forward she’s been in telling me she wants to go out for drinks. And at this point I’m genuinely getting the impression that she’s fairly old fashioned - slash - inexperienced. She had been with this boyfriend 7 years, since the tender age of maybe 19. This put her firmly in 26 and in my mind as a sort of quasi virgin with weak emotional defenses and little experience in the bedroom. Someone to be gentle with and protective of. WOW, was that the wrong impression to have formed. In fact at one point further on she would emphasize that there had been an understanding in her relationship that when he went on tour (in a band, of course), he would do what he wanted and so would she. Rest assured, she told me, she’s had much experience. Hmm. That was a red flag I failed to take seriously, now wasn’t it?
Ok, so we continue our internet chatting during work hours that lasts all day, and I’m having a good time. Meanwhile my ex had returned “home” and was getting ready to move out for good. Very sad shit. So the weekend in which she is to move out arrives and everything’s shitty with us. I kept hoping to be able to have a lovely closure thing happen, and instead we kept spoiling it, and she’s sleeping on her couch and being super excited about leaving. This is the end of May. Wow. wow. On saturday the girl invites me to come to some event she’s going to be at that’s much closer to my place than her apartment. I’m excited, but she says she’s there with her boss, and after I look it up I see it’s also got a cover and is fairly stupid, so I do the social equivalent of just putting the tip in: I tell her I’m going to be at a bar near there and welcome her to a drink if she leaves the event early.
She does leave the event. She does come to my bar for a drink. We do end up making out, and she does grab my cock through my pants outside the bar and breathlessly ask me to come home with her. It’s the day before my ex moves out. I tell her that i can’t, and I explain why and she understands. But of course we make out a while longer and she asks a few more times. It’s interesting to find yourself in this type of moment as an aged and wizened adult of 34 (35th birthday came soon after). I remember doing the math in my head. It involved consciously balancing the sure thing of the moment with the wrongness of not coming home the night before the ex moves out of my life for good. I knew that either choice (go with girl or go home) was a mistake. In fact I’ve found myself more and more in situations where I’m forced to make a choice between two shitty outcomes. I’d like to be able to pick a good one every now and then.
I returned home to a shitty and sad night, sure that I had been forced to forever miss the opportunity of sleeping with the girl. I also felt pretty great about doing the good guy thing, despite my disappointment. It would be the last time for a long time that I would make the right choice in this budding romance. I’ll continue this story tomorrow. Teaser: today, 5 months later, she yelled at me and hung up in my face, blaming me for everything that has gone wrong between us while simultaneously denying that anything had gone wrong AND that there was an “us” to begin with. Lovely.
Taxi Wisdom
Nov/14/11 08:56 PM
So I went to Milan and Florence last week. Now I’m in one of those periods we sometimes find ourselves in when our environment shifts heavily away from our usual routine and then back, and our point of view stays shifted. I went on for about 3 hours yesterday with my producer about this rare sense of possibility and personal freedom that’s suddenly overtaken me. I expressed my tendency to squander it and my desire to not do so this time. I mentioned this blog, I mentioned my Italian friends new and old, I dreamed ambitious dreams while he responded with some very wise words in a similar vein. But last night I sat down to write this as a springboard for taking active charge of my creative destiny and my brain went CLOMP. Deadened like a pillow case full of wet socks.
I was going to start a series of little stories about my conversations with taxi drivers. It was going to be funny and surprisingly interesting, but I just couldn’t make the blood in my head move. Congealed neurons and flagging spirits conspired to render me speechless and this blog entry textless. But lo’ did I wake and get dressed only to find I had done so an hour too early, and verily did I take it upon myself to squeeze out a few words here so I wouldn’t be too bitter about last night today.
And it was so. But now this thing isn’t about anything. Here’s the groundwork then: Taxi drivers and I have fairly deep conversations. They tell me stories about their lives and give me advice (mostly in the field of romance). Lately the subject of masculinity and femininity has taken center stage... and I’ve been framing some of my current and late relationship problems in terms of the taxi driver’s stance just to see where that gets me. It gets me scared. Ok not really. Curious to know what taxi drivers think about man-woman relationships? Yeah well I’ve already written too much about nothing to spill a bunch of something here at the end. Come back later and I’ll have some really good stories to share. These guys have some surprisingly refined views of modern relationship problems.
Oh, and about the usefulness of eating pussy.
I was going to start a series of little stories about my conversations with taxi drivers. It was going to be funny and surprisingly interesting, but I just couldn’t make the blood in my head move. Congealed neurons and flagging spirits conspired to render me speechless and this blog entry textless. But lo’ did I wake and get dressed only to find I had done so an hour too early, and verily did I take it upon myself to squeeze out a few words here so I wouldn’t be too bitter about last night today.
And it was so. But now this thing isn’t about anything. Here’s the groundwork then: Taxi drivers and I have fairly deep conversations. They tell me stories about their lives and give me advice (mostly in the field of romance). Lately the subject of masculinity and femininity has taken center stage... and I’ve been framing some of my current and late relationship problems in terms of the taxi driver’s stance just to see where that gets me. It gets me scared. Ok not really. Curious to know what taxi drivers think about man-woman relationships? Yeah well I’ve already written too much about nothing to spill a bunch of something here at the end. Come back later and I’ll have some really good stories to share. These guys have some surprisingly refined views of modern relationship problems.
Oh, and about the usefulness of eating pussy.
Thought I was done
Jul/17/10 07:45 PM
Well I thought for sure I was done with this thing... I have a girlfriend, we live together, life is good, etc, etc... But of course life inevitably turns to shitty and surprisingly this is just about the only outlet I have for talking through my feelings and crap. I guess it’s a good thing I’ve laid off this blog for so long, though.
I find myself once again with a girl who seems to not be able to stand me half the time. This time, as I mentioned, we live together, so it’s sort of worse (although when the last girl decided she hated my guts halfway through a saturday, it was usually too much of a hike for her to go back to her place, so she stayed and we smoldered and it was a lot like this).
A friendly acquaintance of mine has recently been put in charge of an advice column and I spend a lot of spare thought time mentally writing out hypothetical letters for her to answer in it. They tend to go somewhere along the lines of: “I can’t hang out with both my girlfriend and my friends because at some point she always turns sour and begins to act shitty. Are we doomed?”
Or: “I am catching myself looking at cute girls on the subway and out on the town and fantasizing about the possibility of a breezy cheerful relationship that isn’t so much ‘work’. What can I do?”
Side note: Around about the time of my last entry on this site, I had decided that I was going to write memoirs, and that it would be a bad idea to spend all my juicy energy on pouring out my heart in this blog when I should have been pouring it out into a manuscript or something. And then I decided that writing self-indulgent whining about everything that sucks was taking my focus in the wrong direction, and that I should be doing fiction instead of glorified journals. Or maybe it was that first and the other last. In any case I stopped writing altogether and realized I had managed to clamp down on my only emotional outlet. So I’ve been a little bit like a pressure cooker ever since. This entry is me letting the steam out before I explode.
Anyway, I’m having serious relationship problems, and I have zero perspective on whether I’m causing them or how bad they really are or what. I’m considering seeing a shrink just so I can get a fucking opinion. At this point it’s been so long since I’ve hung out with any friends that it would be severely lame to make this the topic of a conversation with any of them. If I ever WERE to hang out with them.
In other news, I finally quit my job and got another, more exciting one. Except I think I might hate the new job. Once again I have no way of getting any perspective on my feelings or experiences here. Other than my girlfriend’s warped impressions filtered through her own hatred for her job and unhappiness with her life (don’t get me wrong, she’s been very supportive to a point... she doesn’t like sitting through anything I have to say that takes me more than 10 minutes), I don’t have any way to talk to anyone about this that would give me any meaningful insight.
I bounce between thinking I’m just irrevocably burnt out in this line of work to thinking there’s a personality conflict with my new employers, to thinking the personality conflict is actually internal jitters and unrelated feelings of discontent (see above! heheh) that are manifesting themselves as unhappiness at work in order to insulate my romantic life from the truth.
In terms of the theme of this site, moving far away from the epicenter of hipness and excitement: the girlfriend believes that and acts like she’s nearing a point where living out here is going to drive her batshit crazy, so she’s been basically making me feel miserable about living so far out from the action. As if it wasn’t hard enough.
I find myself once again with a girl who seems to not be able to stand me half the time. This time, as I mentioned, we live together, so it’s sort of worse (although when the last girl decided she hated my guts halfway through a saturday, it was usually too much of a hike for her to go back to her place, so she stayed and we smoldered and it was a lot like this).
A friendly acquaintance of mine has recently been put in charge of an advice column and I spend a lot of spare thought time mentally writing out hypothetical letters for her to answer in it. They tend to go somewhere along the lines of: “I can’t hang out with both my girlfriend and my friends because at some point she always turns sour and begins to act shitty. Are we doomed?”
Or: “I am catching myself looking at cute girls on the subway and out on the town and fantasizing about the possibility of a breezy cheerful relationship that isn’t so much ‘work’. What can I do?”
Side note: Around about the time of my last entry on this site, I had decided that I was going to write memoirs, and that it would be a bad idea to spend all my juicy energy on pouring out my heart in this blog when I should have been pouring it out into a manuscript or something. And then I decided that writing self-indulgent whining about everything that sucks was taking my focus in the wrong direction, and that I should be doing fiction instead of glorified journals. Or maybe it was that first and the other last. In any case I stopped writing altogether and realized I had managed to clamp down on my only emotional outlet. So I’ve been a little bit like a pressure cooker ever since. This entry is me letting the steam out before I explode.
Anyway, I’m having serious relationship problems, and I have zero perspective on whether I’m causing them or how bad they really are or what. I’m considering seeing a shrink just so I can get a fucking opinion. At this point it’s been so long since I’ve hung out with any friends that it would be severely lame to make this the topic of a conversation with any of them. If I ever WERE to hang out with them.
In other news, I finally quit my job and got another, more exciting one. Except I think I might hate the new job. Once again I have no way of getting any perspective on my feelings or experiences here. Other than my girlfriend’s warped impressions filtered through her own hatred for her job and unhappiness with her life (don’t get me wrong, she’s been very supportive to a point... she doesn’t like sitting through anything I have to say that takes me more than 10 minutes), I don’t have any way to talk to anyone about this that would give me any meaningful insight.
I bounce between thinking I’m just irrevocably burnt out in this line of work to thinking there’s a personality conflict with my new employers, to thinking the personality conflict is actually internal jitters and unrelated feelings of discontent (see above! heheh) that are manifesting themselves as unhappiness at work in order to insulate my romantic life from the truth.
In terms of the theme of this site, moving far away from the epicenter of hipness and excitement: the girlfriend believes that and acts like she’s nearing a point where living out here is going to drive her batshit crazy, so she’s been basically making me feel miserable about living so far out from the action. As if it wasn’t hard enough.
More Trouble in Paradise, Again again
Jan/27/10 11:54 PM
Well, so this post will probably resemble more closely the stuff I was writing in the early months of the blog, and I’m sure it’s basically going to read like a page from one of my gazillion half-started journals. Pick a year, it’s all the same basically.
So it’s love trouble, of course. Here’s the situation: The Lady Friend and I have been dating for quite some time now, and I’ve gotten to the place where it feels like we should be living together. I can’t just say, “I want us to live together,” because I think deep down in my damaged child of divorce little boy heart I just want to be left alone in my room to feel sorry for myself and play with my toys however and whenever I want.
But really, we should be living together. I’ve done it twice before, and I know that there are some serious benefits that come along with and make up for the sacrifice of personal space and freedom. I’ve even convinced myself that her three cats would be fun to have around...comforting and such.
So, after Lady Friend had finished a slow emotional breakdown involving thinking she’s done with life in NY and wants to move to a different city nearby, coupled with the apparent anguish I was causing her by implying she should find people to give her cats away to (which had caused her to take it just seriously enough to enact in her imagination the heartbreak that separation would entail), I said: “Forget about all that shit, would you like to move in with me instead? You can keep the cats.” And she said “OMG yes, that would be amazing and fantastic, etc.”
And all this exposition here has got me marveling at how cynical and cold and inhuman I am, but it isn’t like that, really.
Not 30 minutes after we agree to move in together here at my place, she starts pointing out all the signs that I’m not really into it. Fast forward to earlier this week. We had a meaningless fight on the phone in which I was trying to describe some hipsters I had seen in the window of one of my favorite local bars, but she wasn’t quite following. And then she had no idea what I meant when I said that one guy had this cap on, you know, like The Irish stereotypically wear? An Irish cap? Sort of pinched in the front with the bill?
She wasn’t getting it (“Like in Lucky Charms?” she wanted to know), I was getting frustrated, and this was scaring her. She was shrinking/wilting like a violet. This is something she tends to do and I’ve recently begun to have moments in which I can’t deal with it anymore... It’s like reaching your arm through a fence to grab a ball you lost on the other side, but you accidentally push it a little out of reach. And then it slooooowly rolls back, only to slide away under the pressure of your extended fingers. Maddening when it happens a lot.
Anyway, she ended the call, I spent the night text-apologizing for being a dick. And I WAS being a dick. But at some point doesn’t a couple have to be able to relax and let it out a little? Like I wasn’t calling her names, my voice wasn’t raised TOO much; I was just excited and really wanted to share, and she wasn’t getting it... (some context: when we have conversations in person, or even when I’m answering direct questions, she has a tendency to stop listening, instead sort of glazing over and doing that thing where you get distracted by looking at someone’s mouth moving instead of hearing the words coming out of it. So I’m a little sensitive to her not listening). I’m not saying she’s the bad guy, but can’t a girl just go, “Hey, you were a dick, but I get it”?
Instead it evolved last night into her theory that I don’t really want her to move in with me. This in turn under my examination evolved into “Maybe I have some reservations, which are the normal guy reservations, but I think I’m not the only one, can you explore your own?”... To which her delayed response has been, “My reservations are that your reservations are making you a dick and I don’t want to be stuck with that.”
Reasonable? yes. A cop-out? yes. That most recent conversation didn’t end well. It didn’t really end at all. I clammed up because what i have to say to that isn’t proper phone conversation, and she took my clamming up to be seething rage or cold indifference or something else coming from me. So we said polite goodbyes and that was it.
Here’s the thing (and I’ll wrap this up because when it gets this long I feel like I’m imposing on the one random person who’s stumbled on this blog), I wasn’t a dick because we are suddenly moving in together and I resent her for it. I was a dick because generally that’s who I am right now and probably forever more. I can’t stand my job, my neighborhood is stale, and I don’t spend any time on friendships or creative projects anymore (like i ever really did?). I get punchy and spunky and sarcastic. I’m super good natured and really care about the people I care about, but I like to cut loose and be rough around the edges. And she doesn’t. I agree that her way is infinitely better, and I’ve been able to play along sometimes, and really feel how warm and great it all is. But I’m afraid I can’t keep it up much longer.
So this is more than a fight about how the thought of her two litter boxes stinking up my apartment has made me cranky, it’s something really close to deciding whether the differences in our personalities are more important than the similarities or not. That’s break-up level talk. I don’t think I’m up to that just yet. I still think deep down that Lady Friend is more like my style of rough quick banter than she thinks... and I’m less combative deep down once I get to a secure, rewarding place in life. I could be wrong about us, but if we take the present snapshot for the whole deal I think we’re gonna end up splitting. And I really don’t want to do that.
So it’s love trouble, of course. Here’s the situation: The Lady Friend and I have been dating for quite some time now, and I’ve gotten to the place where it feels like we should be living together. I can’t just say, “I want us to live together,” because I think deep down in my damaged child of divorce little boy heart I just want to be left alone in my room to feel sorry for myself and play with my toys however and whenever I want.
But really, we should be living together. I’ve done it twice before, and I know that there are some serious benefits that come along with and make up for the sacrifice of personal space and freedom. I’ve even convinced myself that her three cats would be fun to have around...comforting and such.
So, after Lady Friend had finished a slow emotional breakdown involving thinking she’s done with life in NY and wants to move to a different city nearby, coupled with the apparent anguish I was causing her by implying she should find people to give her cats away to (which had caused her to take it just seriously enough to enact in her imagination the heartbreak that separation would entail), I said: “Forget about all that shit, would you like to move in with me instead? You can keep the cats.” And she said “OMG yes, that would be amazing and fantastic, etc.”
And all this exposition here has got me marveling at how cynical and cold and inhuman I am, but it isn’t like that, really.
Not 30 minutes after we agree to move in together here at my place, she starts pointing out all the signs that I’m not really into it. Fast forward to earlier this week. We had a meaningless fight on the phone in which I was trying to describe some hipsters I had seen in the window of one of my favorite local bars, but she wasn’t quite following. And then she had no idea what I meant when I said that one guy had this cap on, you know, like The Irish stereotypically wear? An Irish cap? Sort of pinched in the front with the bill?
She wasn’t getting it (“Like in Lucky Charms?” she wanted to know), I was getting frustrated, and this was scaring her. She was shrinking/wilting like a violet. This is something she tends to do and I’ve recently begun to have moments in which I can’t deal with it anymore... It’s like reaching your arm through a fence to grab a ball you lost on the other side, but you accidentally push it a little out of reach. And then it slooooowly rolls back, only to slide away under the pressure of your extended fingers. Maddening when it happens a lot.
Anyway, she ended the call, I spent the night text-apologizing for being a dick. And I WAS being a dick. But at some point doesn’t a couple have to be able to relax and let it out a little? Like I wasn’t calling her names, my voice wasn’t raised TOO much; I was just excited and really wanted to share, and she wasn’t getting it... (some context: when we have conversations in person, or even when I’m answering direct questions, she has a tendency to stop listening, instead sort of glazing over and doing that thing where you get distracted by looking at someone’s mouth moving instead of hearing the words coming out of it. So I’m a little sensitive to her not listening). I’m not saying she’s the bad guy, but can’t a girl just go, “Hey, you were a dick, but I get it”?
Instead it evolved last night into her theory that I don’t really want her to move in with me. This in turn under my examination evolved into “Maybe I have some reservations, which are the normal guy reservations, but I think I’m not the only one, can you explore your own?”... To which her delayed response has been, “My reservations are that your reservations are making you a dick and I don’t want to be stuck with that.”
Reasonable? yes. A cop-out? yes. That most recent conversation didn’t end well. It didn’t really end at all. I clammed up because what i have to say to that isn’t proper phone conversation, and she took my clamming up to be seething rage or cold indifference or something else coming from me. So we said polite goodbyes and that was it.
Here’s the thing (and I’ll wrap this up because when it gets this long I feel like I’m imposing on the one random person who’s stumbled on this blog), I wasn’t a dick because we are suddenly moving in together and I resent her for it. I was a dick because generally that’s who I am right now and probably forever more. I can’t stand my job, my neighborhood is stale, and I don’t spend any time on friendships or creative projects anymore (like i ever really did?). I get punchy and spunky and sarcastic. I’m super good natured and really care about the people I care about, but I like to cut loose and be rough around the edges. And she doesn’t. I agree that her way is infinitely better, and I’ve been able to play along sometimes, and really feel how warm and great it all is. But I’m afraid I can’t keep it up much longer.
So this is more than a fight about how the thought of her two litter boxes stinking up my apartment has made me cranky, it’s something really close to deciding whether the differences in our personalities are more important than the similarities or not. That’s break-up level talk. I don’t think I’m up to that just yet. I still think deep down that Lady Friend is more like my style of rough quick banter than she thinks... and I’m less combative deep down once I get to a secure, rewarding place in life. I could be wrong about us, but if we take the present snapshot for the whole deal I think we’re gonna end up splitting. And I really don’t want to do that.
Adventures in Koreatown, The Beginning
Nov/02/09 10:14 PM
Oh man. Ohhhhh man. So here’s an interesting thing. Depending on how I tell this story, my Friday night was awesome, or it was bizarrely pathetic. I will now attempt the awesome version.
As you know, this Friday was the Friday before a Saturday Halloween. So. Sort of a lot of pressure, on account of there’s not much excuse for not dressing up or doing something because you have aaalllll day Saturday to get yer shit together. Except noone really wants to throw something together that last minute if they don’t have to, right? Right. Hence, Friday night. In fact, the special lady and I had attempted the trip to the costume shop (Ricky’s) on Thursday, failed, and instead pigged out on burgers and mac and cheese at Odeon. I highly recommend that. Much more fun than last minute costume shopping.
Ricky’s on Friday was a mad house. Line around the block (ok only halfway, but the rest of those people were packed into the super stuffy sweaty panicky basement, frantically scrambling for last minute costumes, or wigs, or blood). I almost bailed, as I was feeling a little reely from my recent successful swine flu vaccination and flu shot. I prevailed. I got a creepy latex dead pig’s head mask and some skeleton wings. Swine Flu, and people actually got it. Success... But that’s Saturday! What about Friday, jackass?!?!
Ok, I take my bag of costume parts up to 34th St to meet the lady friend and a work friend of hers at this place. What was it called? Maru? Something incredibly 90s trendy. The bar top normally cycles continuously through the rainbow spectrum (red is especially annoying), awful top 40s dance pop, and asian fusion food. And the only European whiteys are the ones you come in with. Pretty awesome, actually. The bartenders are super nice, sweet actually, and they have this deal. For $35 you get a bracelet that lets you drink anything within reason all night until 12. We got there around 7:30. Fast forward to 10:30, after some truly terrible fried calamari (think frozen onion rings) and some really good yakitori’ed shrimp and pork belly, we three drunk white douches were trying out their high end private karaoke room FOR FREE.
Now, I’d like to play this off like we scammed them with some bullshit story, but the truth is our story was legit: we wanted to get a room for New Year’s Eve karaoke madness. So they took us up, fired up the crazy remote controlled disco lights and handed us the toaster-sized control pad. Problem: the karaoke book was only about an inch of laminated pages thick. And of that, only about 5 pages were English songs! DAAAAANG. So we fired up a Britney song, pounded it out, and took the elevator to the OTHER super trendy Korean owned private karaoke room establishment in the building. We gave them the same story and got the same treatment! Awesome! Except they had even fewer English songs. I think we did a Gwen Stefani song (by “we” I mean “they”) and left.
Here’s the part that makes it tragic: they were utterly unbooked for New Year’s Eve. We could have had a sweet pad in Korea Town with an awesome view and basically unlimited drinks for like $300. But there weren’t anywhere near enough songs to fill even an hour of time. Even so, my sweet lady had her checkbook halfway out. It was that awesome in there.
End of the story: Another hour of free drinks, taxi, and we held onto my costume! Yes!
As you know, this Friday was the Friday before a Saturday Halloween. So. Sort of a lot of pressure, on account of there’s not much excuse for not dressing up or doing something because you have aaalllll day Saturday to get yer shit together. Except noone really wants to throw something together that last minute if they don’t have to, right? Right. Hence, Friday night. In fact, the special lady and I had attempted the trip to the costume shop (Ricky’s) on Thursday, failed, and instead pigged out on burgers and mac and cheese at Odeon. I highly recommend that. Much more fun than last minute costume shopping.
Ricky’s on Friday was a mad house. Line around the block (ok only halfway, but the rest of those people were packed into the super stuffy sweaty panicky basement, frantically scrambling for last minute costumes, or wigs, or blood). I almost bailed, as I was feeling a little reely from my recent successful swine flu vaccination and flu shot. I prevailed. I got a creepy latex dead pig’s head mask and some skeleton wings. Swine Flu, and people actually got it. Success... But that’s Saturday! What about Friday, jackass?!?!
Ok, I take my bag of costume parts up to 34th St to meet the lady friend and a work friend of hers at this place. What was it called? Maru? Something incredibly 90s trendy. The bar top normally cycles continuously through the rainbow spectrum (red is especially annoying), awful top 40s dance pop, and asian fusion food. And the only European whiteys are the ones you come in with. Pretty awesome, actually. The bartenders are super nice, sweet actually, and they have this deal. For $35 you get a bracelet that lets you drink anything within reason all night until 12. We got there around 7:30. Fast forward to 10:30, after some truly terrible fried calamari (think frozen onion rings) and some really good yakitori’ed shrimp and pork belly, we three drunk white douches were trying out their high end private karaoke room FOR FREE.
Now, I’d like to play this off like we scammed them with some bullshit story, but the truth is our story was legit: we wanted to get a room for New Year’s Eve karaoke madness. So they took us up, fired up the crazy remote controlled disco lights and handed us the toaster-sized control pad. Problem: the karaoke book was only about an inch of laminated pages thick. And of that, only about 5 pages were English songs! DAAAAANG. So we fired up a Britney song, pounded it out, and took the elevator to the OTHER super trendy Korean owned private karaoke room establishment in the building. We gave them the same story and got the same treatment! Awesome! Except they had even fewer English songs. I think we did a Gwen Stefani song (by “we” I mean “they”) and left.
Here’s the part that makes it tragic: they were utterly unbooked for New Year’s Eve. We could have had a sweet pad in Korea Town with an awesome view and basically unlimited drinks for like $300. But there weren’t anywhere near enough songs to fill even an hour of time. Even so, my sweet lady had her checkbook halfway out. It was that awesome in there.
End of the story: Another hour of free drinks, taxi, and we held onto my costume! Yes!
New people Same old song
Jul/29/09 08:19 PM
Well I’m not sure what to focus on here. Job sitch: scary as fuck. Morale is at an all-time low across the board, bureaucracy is ascendant and personal accountability is keeping pace. So I’m in a work environment where blind devotion to red tape is making it hard (impossible) for people (and me) to get shit done, but a new philosophy of holding people responsible for their work means not getting shit done has consequences. Yikes. Don’t get me wrong, there’re a ton of idiots at my job who would’ve been fired years ago if they worked anywhere else, and I personally welcome any boss who decides it’s time to stop letting shit slide. I’m just worried about the whole guilty-by-association thing. How does a person decide which team member fucked up on a project? Safer to toss out everyone, right? I hope not. Let’s hope the union gives a shit.
Love life sitch: In a serious relationship. No more handjobs in bars by strange women for the H.I.E. Instead it’s trips to nearby metropolises to attend the weddings of sisters, weekends pushing the karaoke comfort envelope open, and evenings listening to lengthy recountings of daily minutiae. Lucky me those minutiae are often regarding encounters with J. Lo and Katy Perry... but I gotta say I’m having trouble sharing my hermit space with someone else. Most days it’s fine and fun to have a caring lady to cook for and talk to and cetera. And then it suddenly gets old and I can’t stand to have her around. And it’s hard not to interpret those feelings as being deeper than commitment phobia/panic and selfish desire to watch the bad TV I like. But I think this one’s going to be around a long time. As long as I work in some days off.
Except MAN i could save some serious dough if she moved in and split the rent. Holy crap. We’re talking max-out-the-Roth-IRA-contributions money. heh. Or whiskey.
Look for a more specific update this weekend as I attempt to hide from girlfriend relatives by pretending to work. Also, I’m toying with the idea of telling some dating stories just to get them out there before my new blissful state erases them from my mind. Let me know if there’s interest.
Love life sitch: In a serious relationship. No more handjobs in bars by strange women for the H.I.E. Instead it’s trips to nearby metropolises to attend the weddings of sisters, weekends pushing the karaoke comfort envelope open, and evenings listening to lengthy recountings of daily minutiae. Lucky me those minutiae are often regarding encounters with J. Lo and Katy Perry... but I gotta say I’m having trouble sharing my hermit space with someone else. Most days it’s fine and fun to have a caring lady to cook for and talk to and cetera. And then it suddenly gets old and I can’t stand to have her around. And it’s hard not to interpret those feelings as being deeper than commitment phobia/panic and selfish desire to watch the bad TV I like. But I think this one’s going to be around a long time. As long as I work in some days off.
Except MAN i could save some serious dough if she moved in and split the rent. Holy crap. We’re talking max-out-the-Roth-IRA-contributions money. heh. Or whiskey.
Look for a more specific update this weekend as I attempt to hide from girlfriend relatives by pretending to work. Also, I’m toying with the idea of telling some dating stories just to get them out there before my new blissful state erases them from my mind. Let me know if there’s interest.
Geez It's been a while
Jun/30/09 10:43 PM
Well boy do I have some great stories to tell. And it’s been so long since I’ve posted here that it’s probably safe to tell and assume that noone who might be hurt will read this. But maybe not, so apologies. Also, I will be reevaluating this blog’s whole purpose probably soon. Because it’s seriously lame not to update it with fun shit and stories and links and photos and whining bullshit.
So here’s some updates: I am another year older. Had a birthday party for myself, which is I guess what adults end up having to do when we get to a certain age. I’ve never seen a TV show portray anything like that, though... which means I am a loser. Anyway it was at Melody Lanes in Sunset Park, which means bowling. Out of about 40-50 invitees, I got maybe 10 people to show up. What’s weird is the assortment that came. I clearly don’t have deep membership in any big unified groups of friends. I’m pretty cool with that now.
The fucked up part was all the seriously lame excuses that people gave me for not coming. One person said that I had invited too many of her exes (none showed up), another one said last time she bowled she broke a nail, so would be avoiding it this time. My favorite was from a pretty good friend in which she decided not to come because the “subways were too messed up” that day. That night she ended up 4 stops away on a train that was running fine later that night, according to her facebook pictures from that night. In the end we were probably only 5 long blocks apart, but I was too pissed to do any reaching out.
Why have the posts dried up, you may wonder? Well I’m seriously dating a girl. That’s right, I’m pulling the cliche move where I drop everything and everyone to get rolled up in new romance. Only I’m trying really hard to keep that from happening. Problem is I can’t fucking get people to hang out! That and I’m not trying as hard to make it happen. Hopefully things will get more social now that the weather’s heating up for real.
So here’s some updates: I am another year older. Had a birthday party for myself, which is I guess what adults end up having to do when we get to a certain age. I’ve never seen a TV show portray anything like that, though... which means I am a loser. Anyway it was at Melody Lanes in Sunset Park, which means bowling. Out of about 40-50 invitees, I got maybe 10 people to show up. What’s weird is the assortment that came. I clearly don’t have deep membership in any big unified groups of friends. I’m pretty cool with that now.
The fucked up part was all the seriously lame excuses that people gave me for not coming. One person said that I had invited too many of her exes (none showed up), another one said last time she bowled she broke a nail, so would be avoiding it this time. My favorite was from a pretty good friend in which she decided not to come because the “subways were too messed up” that day. That night she ended up 4 stops away on a train that was running fine later that night, according to her facebook pictures from that night. In the end we were probably only 5 long blocks apart, but I was too pissed to do any reaching out.
Why have the posts dried up, you may wonder? Well I’m seriously dating a girl. That’s right, I’m pulling the cliche move where I drop everything and everyone to get rolled up in new romance. Only I’m trying really hard to keep that from happening. Problem is I can’t fucking get people to hang out! That and I’m not trying as hard to make it happen. Hopefully things will get more social now that the weather’s heating up for real.
The new Belt Notches
May/18/09 11:46 PM
So a recent development (or set of them) has got me thinking about how life changes in interesting ways as you round 30 and head for home (the grave). First off, a digression into memory lane: As a guy, I used to have a pretty cliched little black address book in which i kept....contact info. I mean that shit was actually necessary pre-pda and pre-internet and most people had some form of centralized repository of miscellaneous and important contact info. So stop judging, assholes.
And in this book, I of course rated girls and kept track of how many i kissed and what-not... this was high school, ok? Which led to the quintessential “Reality Bites”-immortalized practice of counting and listing at various moments (ok, immediately after the sex) the number of girls i had had sex with. Even the ladies do this, so once more, stop judging, dicks.
Anyway, remember that? Like notches on the belt, or hash marks on the bedpost, or whatever.
So what’s the new version? The one that takes over from the ego-building celebration of conquest (or circumspect cherishing of past moments of intimacy, depending on the notcher) of our early 20s? Well, it’s a masochistic cataloguing of missed opportunities, of course! A painful reminder of failures and dropped balls; a reminder that the clock is ticking and you have somehow been left behind on the race to find someone. I’m talking about people on that prior list who are now married, or getting married soon.
Marriage was pathetic when it was immediately after high school, but now that we’re talking about real adults (with whom we once had serious relationships) settling down with the soul mate of their choosing it huuuuurts! It doesn’t hurt in a conventional way, though... It’s like a little proof that there must be something wrong with you. This is getting long-winded so I won’t delve into that. But here’s my current number. Of the girls with whom I have been in meaningful relationships since college, 7 that I know of are either happily married, or getting married this month. THIS MONTH! There’re THREE of those! Sigh. Not that I want to get married, but yeah, now I want to get married.
And in this book, I of course rated girls and kept track of how many i kissed and what-not... this was high school, ok? Which led to the quintessential “Reality Bites”-immortalized practice of counting and listing at various moments (ok, immediately after the sex) the number of girls i had had sex with. Even the ladies do this, so once more, stop judging, dicks.
Anyway, remember that? Like notches on the belt, or hash marks on the bedpost, or whatever.
So what’s the new version? The one that takes over from the ego-building celebration of conquest (or circumspect cherishing of past moments of intimacy, depending on the notcher) of our early 20s? Well, it’s a masochistic cataloguing of missed opportunities, of course! A painful reminder of failures and dropped balls; a reminder that the clock is ticking and you have somehow been left behind on the race to find someone. I’m talking about people on that prior list who are now married, or getting married soon.
Marriage was pathetic when it was immediately after high school, but now that we’re talking about real adults (with whom we once had serious relationships) settling down with the soul mate of their choosing it huuuuurts! It doesn’t hurt in a conventional way, though... It’s like a little proof that there must be something wrong with you. This is getting long-winded so I won’t delve into that. But here’s my current number. Of the girls with whom I have been in meaningful relationships since college, 7 that I know of are either happily married, or getting married this month. THIS MONTH! There’re THREE of those! Sigh. Not that I want to get married, but yeah, now I want to get married.
One stalk too far
May/16/09 09:33 PM
So it finally happened. I did a little too much stalkering on the old facebook and got what I deserved: My ex is “in a relationship”... Dun dun duuuunnnn... And of course I’m all reeling in shock and awfulness and a little stunned. Because as a matter of fact I have been gazing fondly in retrospect toward the good times we had in the past. I mean she was the rare type of girlfriend who adores and mildly idolizes her man. Which at the time was offset by her tendency to get ragingly upset at every expression of independence i ever made. It ended for a reason. I ended it for that reason. I was right i was right i was right. I’m trying to affirm, over here, gimme a break.
I think i have even figured out that she’s in that relationship with a dude in a minor band, one with a medium small following. I hate it! Why is it taking me so long to find a terrific girl? Hmmm? And why am I so obsessed with settling down? Prob has a lot to do with feeling like I’m getting old AND feeling isolated down here in exile.
Speaking of Exile-land, I went with some chums to a new comic book store up in...Prospect Heights? Picked up some comics (my ex turned me on to comics, of COURSE). And lo and behold, somehow it comes up that the owners (who are lovely people, very awesome in fact) are new residents in Exile City with me! Awwwwwwwesome. Some comrades in isolationville.
Starting to get a little better living down here. Love life has screeched to a nonexistent halt, but I’m also slowly building up some better social relationships with some healthier people. They also live closer than hipstertropolis.
Leave a comment if you have any comic suggestions or want to let me know you’re reading this crap.
I think i have even figured out that she’s in that relationship with a dude in a minor band, one with a medium small following. I hate it! Why is it taking me so long to find a terrific girl? Hmmm? And why am I so obsessed with settling down? Prob has a lot to do with feeling like I’m getting old AND feeling isolated down here in exile.
Speaking of Exile-land, I went with some chums to a new comic book store up in...Prospect Heights? Picked up some comics (my ex turned me on to comics, of COURSE). And lo and behold, somehow it comes up that the owners (who are lovely people, very awesome in fact) are new residents in Exile City with me! Awwwwwwwesome. Some comrades in isolationville.
Starting to get a little better living down here. Love life has screeched to a nonexistent halt, but I’m also slowly building up some better social relationships with some healthier people. They also live closer than hipstertropolis.
Leave a comment if you have any comic suggestions or want to let me know you’re reading this crap.
Comments. Addenda
Apr/14/09 08:27 PM
Ok, first and foremost. Comments. If you are reading this blog, let me know you exist by chiming in or saying howdy. In the future I’ll try to create some discussion worthy posts, with questions and such. Or don’t comment. But it could be fun. You can do it completely anonymously. No need to enter any private info, just put a nickname and you can post! Sweet, i know. Click it NOW!
The juicy bits: I closed my okcupid account. Ok I just disabled it this time (yes, I have been here before). Only this time, instead of it being like I’m fleeing from the crush of psychotic and mediocre girls desperately clamoring to slice my skin off and wear it as a hipster-suit, it’s a more reasoned and deliberate flight. I have some very convincing reasons (to me) for why online dating will never work for me as more than a place to meet friends who I might possibly sleep with. Except I seem to not be interested in that at all. Basically, the process of browsing through potential matches and trying out some and ditching others is too much like shopping online. It sucks out the excitement of real life. Plus I was addicted to the constant, mild ego boost.
Also, I have purchased two badges to the northside festival, and I suggest you check it out if you want your hipster friends to like you. I will like you even if you don’t. Too lazy? It’s like if some hipsters in Brooklyn woke up and realized that all the bands that make other festivals hop actually LIVE HERE. So they all ALL are booked and playing in June in the hipster triangle. I’m just hoping I find someone to share the extra badge with, but I’m sure this time I’ll be able to sell it.
Lastly, check out the Leila (pronounced Lila) texts blog here. It’s mildly funny. The concept is that this girl gets every text on Verizon addressed to “Leila”. Which apparently Verizon lets you text to a name... who knew? I’ve met this girl and she’s hilarious. The hilarity doesn’t quite come across on the screen, but it’s still fun.
The juicy bits: I closed my okcupid account. Ok I just disabled it this time (yes, I have been here before). Only this time, instead of it being like I’m fleeing from the crush of psychotic and mediocre girls desperately clamoring to slice my skin off and wear it as a hipster-suit, it’s a more reasoned and deliberate flight. I have some very convincing reasons (to me) for why online dating will never work for me as more than a place to meet friends who I might possibly sleep with. Except I seem to not be interested in that at all. Basically, the process of browsing through potential matches and trying out some and ditching others is too much like shopping online. It sucks out the excitement of real life. Plus I was addicted to the constant, mild ego boost.
Also, I have purchased two badges to the northside festival, and I suggest you check it out if you want your hipster friends to like you. I will like you even if you don’t. Too lazy? It’s like if some hipsters in Brooklyn woke up and realized that all the bands that make other festivals hop actually LIVE HERE. So they all ALL are booked and playing in June in the hipster triangle. I’m just hoping I find someone to share the extra badge with, but I’m sure this time I’ll be able to sell it.
Lastly, check out the Leila (pronounced Lila) texts blog here. It’s mildly funny. The concept is that this girl gets every text on Verizon addressed to “Leila”. Which apparently Verizon lets you text to a name... who knew? I’ve met this girl and she’s hilarious. The hilarity doesn’t quite come across on the screen, but it’s still fun.
Sometimes We Borrow from Ourselves
Mar/10/09 12:25 AM
Ok, I just gushed out my day in an email and decided to just rip it off and paste it right here. So suck it, losers! (kidding. obvs):
“So guess what I did today. I "broke up" with an online date girl. I should paste some text from the email so you can rate my effort. Or some from her last email so you can see why it was inevitably going to end badly. I think this way I get to be a very small asshole and she gets to feel righteous for a week and then forget about it all. Wanna know what event precipitated this admittedly already-in-the-works dumping?
Ok, I'll tell you! So we email each other while at work, right? yeah, so she asks me what I'm doing this (past) weekend. And, because I have a pretty full lineup, I tell her exactly what I'm doing. It was basically booked thurs and sat nights. So I suggest dinner either early and limited on sat or sunday (she has some sstuff going on friday and sat nights). She says, yes. I ask which she prefers. She says sunday and I say good, sunday. Then on friday she texts me something like have a good weekend and i text her on saturday that it's gorgeous outside whoopeee. no response, which I'm personally a fan of, except I know it's probably significant. So sunday comes and I have brunch with some friends and then i text her hey, are we having dinner? no response. So I email, hey, in case your phone is dead, are we having dinner? and then i call (i hate calling, but to be the one with the justice on his side i'll do it) and leave a message: hey, i'm thinking you're not into dinner, but i still am, let me know. so she calls back and it's 7 by now, and i don't answer. because it's her turn to leave a damn message right?
Only she doesn't. She doesn't! I mean why the hell call in the first place?!?!?!?!?!?! Veeeery significant. So I reluctantly call back and she answers. She's all on the offensive: "I am sort of used to actually communicating with the people I'm spending time with" or something like that, "So when I didn't hear from you on the phone I assumed it was off....." painful silence "So I ate already"
And I said oh it's fine and then she began to launch into what seemed like a wind-up for a tirade against me (I'm sure about how I'm not sending clear signals or trying hard enough to keep her interested... I've gotten that before and it turns me WWWAAAYYY off), so I cut her off with some stuttered "it's ok's" and "you don't have to explain's" and she shuts up....
and then apologizes and says if i want some cold pizza i can come over. And I double down with, naw, it's cool I have some leftovers i can eat. And then it's awkward for a while and then we stumble through a reschedule. [and now that I'm writing all this i think i'm going to paste it word for word into my blog, along with this comment... and while I'm editorializing for my blog in an email to you, I will also point out that i think my ex knows the address to my blog, which sucks because i don't want her to read about my exploits, such as they are, and get hurt]
And then I realize it's time to end the thing. And then I also realize that I don't have to be the perfect gentleman and always end things on the phone or in person. In fact, an email saves everyone the discomfort and has the added benefit of being more likely to happen sooner, you know? Like having to do it in person makes it SO MUCH EASIER to put off the messiness. So I composed a lovely email and sent it to her, making sure it would get there when she didn't need to focus on work or whatnot because I can't help being condescendingly sensitive.
GAAAASP. done. I hope you enjoyed reading that. but seriously it felt pretty self indulgent.”
“So guess what I did today. I "broke up" with an online date girl. I should paste some text from the email so you can rate my effort. Or some from her last email so you can see why it was inevitably going to end badly. I think this way I get to be a very small asshole and she gets to feel righteous for a week and then forget about it all. Wanna know what event precipitated this admittedly already-in-the-works dumping?
Ok, I'll tell you! So we email each other while at work, right? yeah, so she asks me what I'm doing this (past) weekend. And, because I have a pretty full lineup, I tell her exactly what I'm doing. It was basically booked thurs and sat nights. So I suggest dinner either early and limited on sat or sunday (she has some sstuff going on friday and sat nights). She says, yes. I ask which she prefers. She says sunday and I say good, sunday. Then on friday she texts me something like have a good weekend and i text her on saturday that it's gorgeous outside whoopeee. no response, which I'm personally a fan of, except I know it's probably significant. So sunday comes and I have brunch with some friends and then i text her hey, are we having dinner? no response. So I email, hey, in case your phone is dead, are we having dinner? and then i call (i hate calling, but to be the one with the justice on his side i'll do it) and leave a message: hey, i'm thinking you're not into dinner, but i still am, let me know. so she calls back and it's 7 by now, and i don't answer. because it's her turn to leave a damn message right?
Only she doesn't. She doesn't! I mean why the hell call in the first place?!?!?!?!?!?! Veeeery significant. So I reluctantly call back and she answers. She's all on the offensive: "I am sort of used to actually communicating with the people I'm spending time with" or something like that, "So when I didn't hear from you on the phone I assumed it was off....." painful silence "So I ate already"
And I said oh it's fine and then she began to launch into what seemed like a wind-up for a tirade against me (I'm sure about how I'm not sending clear signals or trying hard enough to keep her interested... I've gotten that before and it turns me WWWAAAYYY off), so I cut her off with some stuttered "it's ok's" and "you don't have to explain's" and she shuts up....
and then apologizes and says if i want some cold pizza i can come over. And I double down with, naw, it's cool I have some leftovers i can eat. And then it's awkward for a while and then we stumble through a reschedule. [and now that I'm writing all this i think i'm going to paste it word for word into my blog, along with this comment... and while I'm editorializing for my blog in an email to you, I will also point out that i think my ex knows the address to my blog, which sucks because i don't want her to read about my exploits, such as they are, and get hurt]
And then I realize it's time to end the thing. And then I also realize that I don't have to be the perfect gentleman and always end things on the phone or in person. In fact, an email saves everyone the discomfort and has the added benefit of being more likely to happen sooner, you know? Like having to do it in person makes it SO MUCH EASIER to put off the messiness. So I composed a lovely email and sent it to her, making sure it would get there when she didn't need to focus on work or whatnot because I can't help being condescendingly sensitive.
GAAAASP. done. I hope you enjoyed reading that. but seriously it felt pretty self indulgent.”