...And Then He Kissed Me

You know that I went on a date with The Engineer, right? And that it was...different. He was shy and charming and smart and a perfect gentleman. We laughed and talked about so much including, faith and family. As hard as I tried, I couldn't find one thing wrong with him. He even asked me out on a second date before the first was over. When I told him that it'd have to be in the afternoon, he said that he was definitely thinking night. And thus, the "Friend Zone" was successfully dodged.

He cancelled our second date hours before it should have begun. The demon, skepticism, came out and I was sure it had less to do with car trouble and more to do with him not knowing how to bow out gracefully. The hour came when we would have been sharing a pizza and my computer pinged. It was him. IMing me. We talked for over an hour and I went to bed placated.

Monday came and he lamented having to go to his company's Christmas Dinner alone. Naturally I assumed that he would ask me to accompany him. (Who am I if not a girl that jumps to ridiculous conclusions?) In the end we both agreed that it was a lot soon to meet the people he worked with and he asked me if we could start again.

Only a fool would say no.

We've talked everyday and made plans for Thursday (tonight!). He promised to tell me where we were going so I'd know how to dress. But honestly? I'd already picked up on his vibe. It would be nice. Grown-up even. Like, shave-your-legs-and-wear-a-dress-in-the-winter worthy. I was super excited. Wednesday came and I still didn't know where we were going to have dinner so I asked. And he didn't respond. All. Day.

Panic crept in and made a home in my heart.

I told my sister, my therapist, the girls at work, the birds, and the rain that it was over. I had been played. How? I didn't know but I was sure that the fairytale was over and I would never date again. Then, my phone chimed.

It was him. He was on his way back from Cleveland - a short business trip - and wanted to see me that night! Could I be there by 7p? No. But definitely by 8. Or 8:05. It definitely would have been 8 if I hadn't needed to try on four different pairs of shoes before going with my black knee-high boots. He called at 8:02 to make sure I was OK. And was waiting outside, like a gentleman, to walk me in.

We sat and he made it known that this date was in addition to and not replacing the one planned for Thursday. And it went perfectly. We were able to have intellectual conversations and a mutual exchange of opinions. Plus, he thinks I'm "stunning". Even when I dropped food on myself at dinner, he told me that it was OK and I finally felt better when I saw a shower of rice fall from his lap.

He walked me to my car and I stood there willing him to kiss me. I honestly don't' think I could have wanted it any more than I did that very moment. I had to literally restrain myself from grabbing him when he said goodnight and turned to walk away. Instead, I yelled out, "Wait! Um, where are we going tomorrow?". He looked at me, looked at the sky, and fumbled around for words and then looked at me and then... he kissed me.

Just a little. Just a peck. But it was absolutely perfect.

And now I've got to get ready for tonight!

Burnt Toast

So, I guess I'm going to tell the story again after all.

Toasty was perfect. Cute, tall, charming, understanding, and an amazing cuddler. He said all these wonderful things. Like how he wants kids, would be willing to move to my town (He lives about 90 minutes out), that I deserve the best of everything, that I'm gorgeous. But then, on our second date, he wore sweatpants, made no plans, and expected me to put out.

I can't even tell you how upset I was. The man who said he didn't smoke, left to get cigarettes. "I only smoke when I drink", he said. But he'd also told me that he'd quit drinking. You know, after his second DUI and all. However, I did watch him single handedly down a bottle of Beringer White Zin.

Let's all be serious for a second. A grown man drinking pink wine is a major turn off. Especially, when it's something as cheap as Beringer. And let's not talk about how it was the 1.5 liter bottle. That's the equivalent of TWO bottles for those of us who know anything about wine. Two bottles of wine and five cigarettes in less than 2 hours by a man who quit drinking and doesn't smoke.

Then he asked if I wanted to "f**k" him and when I rejected his charming advance, he said, "That's OK. You can just get me off in the morning". Now, I'm not opposed to manual or oral stimulation but I was absolutely floored by his audacity.

Add in the fact that he told me that he was openly talking to other women and you can see why our two week relationship hit the rocks. His goodbye text went like this, "Hey.. Sorry I didn't get back to you.. I not sure about us.. I mean, you turned me down on alot of stuff.. I dont want a woman that turns me down.."

So, I told him that I want a man that's willing to compromise. Not someone who insists on controlling the remote even though I've expressed that I hate this particular show. Or who wants to take a picture of my naked breasts. Or who thinks that he's going to be having sex with me while chatting up other women.

He seemed so promising. He really put on an excellent show. And the whole time I was with him all I could do was wonder where the wonderful man I'd met just days before had disappeared to and what I would have to do to get him back. But I don't want him back. Because the man I fell for was never really there. Awesome.

It's amazing how hard it is to find someone that you actually want to spend time with. I'm talking to at least four different men right now which is absolutely ridiculous if you ask me. Plus, it's super stressful. Why couldn't Toasty just act right? Sigh. 

Meeting Mr. Right On Time

We all know how hard it is to find someone that we would actually want to spend the rest of our lives with. For those of us that didn't come across him before age 28, it's getting harder everyday. For the umpteenth time, I've turned to online dating. Except, I went the free route. I can't even make you understand how awesome and yet exhausting it has been.

I met someone immediately who seemed like he was worth the time I was investing. He said all the right things. Remembered the smallest details. Schmoozed my mom and sisters by phone. Begged me to bring my dog to his place so that I could stay the night. And then... wore sweatpants. Like, actual grey sweatpants. He was SUPER comfortable in a relationship that was only weeks old.

I won't dwell on it anymore. I've told the story at least 4 times and each time I become even more exasperated. Let's just chalk it all up to a waste of time. Eh. It could be worse.

However, in a fit of spite and anger, I did plan a drinks date with someone else. Then, I told him I was doing it. Because I am a highly sought after woman! AND IF HE COULDN'T FIGURE THAT OUT ON HIS OWN THEN I WAS GOING TO SHOW HIM!

It might have come across as a tad bit crazy.

Oh, well.

Let's suffice it to say that I was none too thrilled about having to get dressed up again for another man that would very likely be wearing sweatpants. Especially one that didn't have the strong jaw and piercing green eyes.

But I was not let down. The Engineer is different. He has a career and a genuine interest in me. I found it funny that we flowed easily into a conversation about electrical work all because I caught him staring at the industrial ceiling. He gets my jokes. And when I told him about my beliefs, he accurately described it as "spiritual but not religious". I was so caught off guard that I could only stare wide-eyed.

He has brothers and sisters and gets why it's important for a kid to have both. And if you read our profiles, it looks like one plagiarized the other. We both love the local festivals and are eagerly learning the city. He even likes live music.

I don't know when I'll ever learn to stop judging books by their covers. I don't know that I ever will. All I know is that The Engineer wants to see me again... on Saturday... night... and I couldn't be more excited.

Reason, Season, or Lifetime

No one ever thinks about how long life really is. Every morning when you wake, you have 86400 seconds with which to work. You can do anything you want 86400 times! Meet new people, go new places, see new things. Anything.

31.5 million opportunities in a year to change your mind. And sometimes, you do.

I grew up way too fast. And now, at the ripe old age of 27, I feel like an old maid.

On more than one occasion, I have looked around me and wondered whose life I was living because surely, I would have made better choices. Regardless of where I thought I would be by now, I am where I am. And I am who I am. And who I am changes 86400 times every day.


I guess my question is: How do you tell people that you've changed? Should you?

I don't know what to do here. There are so many people that I can no longer find room for in my life. There's the guy who lied. But that's not new to me. What was new was the feeling that I deserved better than him. How am I supposed to goodbye to him? I've never done it before without an argument. The screaming and the yelling, the cursing and the blame. Those are my old normal. But they don't fit the new me.

The friends that I used to get in trouble with. How do I say that I don't do trouble anymore? They want to see me and I'm running out of excuses. All I really have are reasons. We are no longer alike and thus, there's no room in my life for them anymore. But I can't say that. Can I?

And what about the other people in my life? The ones that I never truly fit but I forced anyway?

I spent years feeling like a lost puzzle piece. Like something was wrong with me because I had this wonky corner. And there was always someone, their puzzle having a few missing pieces, that was more than willing to let me wiggle in and see if I fit.

You've been there before. You have that one weirdly shaped puzzle piece that has the right coloring and would fit perfectly if it weren't for that wonky corner. I have a wonky corner. And I pressed and pressed myself into other people's puzzles while knowing deep down that I didn't fit.

But I've started to accept my wonky corner and to love it because it makes me special. And as hard as it is, I'm pulling free from other people's puzzles. It's hard. I'm a little battered and bruised. A little bent and torn. But I'm still me. I'm still a little wonky. And I'm finally OK with it.

pic found here

Strange Things Are Happening to Me

I have the best therapist in the world. You may think I'm exaggerating  but I'm not. I think that everyone should have a counselor as wonderful as mine. She listens and engages in real conversation with me. She never makes me feel like I'm crazy or invalid. Her ideas and solutions are relevant to my life and situation and she's as honest with me as I would want anyone to be.

So, when she tells me something, I listen. Intently. And I rarely hesitate to put her ideas and suggestions into action. She always applauds me for it. I can't tell you when the last time I felt like someone was truly proud of me. She makes me feel proud of myself. For who I am. Just the way I am.

It's like she gets me. So can you see why I was completely confused when she asked me why I continue to use her services? I...I...well, I laughed. And laughed and laughed and laughed. Until, I looked up and she was not laughing along with me. She was dead serious. My therapist asked me outright why I continue to come see her and spend money when I have two people in my life giving me the exact same advice.

She said that they are wise and noble and love me. They love me. Just the way I am.

That's why C always gives me the lectures when I'm going to do something stupid. That's why C laughs when I dribble water out of my mouth and down the front of my shirt. Or is the only person who can hear my gimp when I walk in heels. C listens to me cry and whine and tell the same stories. She believes me when I tell her something new. Because she knows that for all my gossip, I keep some things close to my chest. C understands that just because I didn't mention it doesn't mean it didn't hurt and just because it hurts doesn't mean I won't forgive you. She'll ask me to say something nice about myself and when I come up with nothing, she'll ask me to name 20 things about her. When I'm done, my eyes glowing with pride and worship, C simply says, "You and I are a lot alike." I want to tell her how much she's touched me but I know that she can see past the grin on my face to the shock and sadness in my eyes. For all that I am, I am not self-assured.

E is the man I want to marry but know I never will. If it weren't for the distance and the fact that we don't want to see each other naked, it might be a possibility. Even my therapist thinks we should date. But, if we did, I would risk losing a wonderful friend. When I was racing head-on towards a cliff (and after C had given me three days worth of reasons not to do it), he wrote me an email that included: four thumbs down, a metaphor about a cliff, a confession that he had once been a cliff, a threat to shake me by the shoulders, and the reassurance that he was giving me all the credit in the world and that's why he knew that I deserved so much more than I was allowing myself to settle for. He tells me to get up and run when I just want to eat ice cream and weep. He tells me I'm worthy when I can't imagine that anyone could love me. E tells me that I'm funny when I'm just giving him a hard time. And whenever I try to thank him for something that he's done, he makes sure to razz me on how long it took to show my appreciation. For someone that's never even held my hand, E is one of my biggest cheerleaders and I wouldn't want it any other way.

When I think about C & E and how well they know me, I want to weep. I'm weeping now. Because they know me. The know happy me, sad me, lonely me, open me, angry me, scared me, me. And they love me anyway. C & E have never wanted anything except to be my friend and I've never felt required to do anything to make either of them stay. I'd never known that feeling until now.

To compare the other people in my life to them would be unfair. Because no one could ever give what they've given me. No one could ever come close. And that makes all the difference.

Ten Years Ago Today

I had been a high school graduate for all of three months and was still fighting with my parents about why I hadn't joined the armed services. They, after all, both served in the Army. My brother had chosen to enlist. Recruiters were calling me everyday.

April had just turned three on September 10th. Mom was making breakfast and I was rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I turned on the t.v. to get the weather. But there was breaking news. A plane hit a building in New York City. There weren't a lot of details so I turned to CNN.

They saw it differently. They didn't think it was an accident.

I yelled to my mom, "A plane crashed in New York!". She said a quick prayer and said this would probably be like the Kennedy assassination. People glued to the television all day but the news never changing.

And then, from the right side of the screen, looking like a home movie of a little boy playing with his toys, another plane hit the second tower.

This wasn't an accident. Someone was killing Americans. In droves.

America was on lock down. Every major city was being put on high alert. Armed Forces went on Operation Delta. Schools were locked down. And I just sat. And stared. And cried.

I cried as I watched people with no hope jump eighty stories to their deaths. I cried as I watched Tower Two fall like a house made of sand. I cried when Flight 77 crashed into the Pentagon. And I cried when Flight 93 crashed into a field.

I prayed for it to be over. My mind couldn't stand anymore shock. My heart was cloaked in fear. It's hard now to think that it all only lasted ninety minutes. Because those were the longest minutes of my life.

Not knowing what city would be next. What metropolis was unfortunate enough to be the next target.

I was at home on September 11, 2001. I spent the entire morning standing in our living room glued to the television wondering what else could happen. Who else would die that day. Had anyone gotten a chance to say "I love you" one last time?

Never forget where you were in September 11, 2001. Never forget the feeling of oneness and comraderie that you felt that day. Never forget what a privilege it is to be an American. Never forget that freedom has a price.

God Bless America.

Truth Be Told

It's not everyday that I lose my cool and air all my business online. Yes, I know that I currently maintain four blogs and you should totally stop judging. But the reality of it is that I tell all my business to you. The chosen few who have decided that I can, at times, be entertaining.

I try to keep my internet and real lives from bleeding into each other too much. Which should explain why I was surprised that she knew my name. The Scropio's girlfriend, I mean. She knew my name.

I've been angry with him for months. Not because I can't trust him;  I already knew that. I've been angry because of all the lies. I'm naive enough to believe that if I give you license to sow your wild oats you should have no cause to spew falseness. Because even though I agreed to having string-less encounters, I never expected to be lied to. I should have known better.

Her name is Abrielle. And the 25th would have been their one-year anniversary. Would have. It's such a sad phrase. She came to me because in a fit of anger I blasted The Scorpio for being the "lying, cheating son of a bitch with no respect for anyone including [himself]" that he is. And I did it on Twitter. She saw it and wondered what would make another woman, a simple friend from high school, so angry.

So she messaged me and asked if we could talk. I'll be honest with you. Based on our brief encounter months ago, I was expecting to be yelled at by a gold-tooth-sporting, bra-less, God-less cretin . What I got instead was a kindhearted, soft-spoken, wounded, professional woman in search of the truth.

I told her that how he and I dated four years ago and that he cheated on me throughout our relationship. I never told any of you this, but none of his friends knew we were dating. They thought I was just another harlot in his harem. And if you ask him when he and I broke up, he'll give you the wrong story.

I told her how he tweeted me in February, how we had an easy-going dinner where he swore he'd never done any of the horrible things to me that he was admitting having done to past lovers. Then we started sleeping together in March and it continued through late May.

I told her how he called me by her name.  How that inspired an even bigger fight between us. I told her about being at his football game because he asked me to. She remembers the bet. He was smart enough to tweet about it.

I told her how I asked why he was still worrying with her. After all, she was just an ex that wouldn't let go. Someone that he had tried to block on Twitter but one of her suitors was feeding her information from his time line. I told her that he painted her as a wild woman who showed up at his job and attacked me online for no reason.

I told her how he would be in my house, on my couch with me while texting her. I told her how I asked him outright if he was sleeping with her while sleeping with me. I told her that he said yes.

At first, I'm sure she didn't believe me. Or at least, didn't want to. What woman wants to be on the phone with their boyfriend's lover? But it's hard not to believe someone with a vivid memory of the 13 weeks that they allowed your boyfriend into their bed. It also helps that I put a good bit of it on the internet for the whole world to peruse and explore.

I knew that every truth that spilled from my lips was a knife to her heart. But I couldn't stop. Not because I wanted to hurt her but because I wanted her to choose for herself. Abrielle has a right to know the truth and to make her decisions from that knowledge. No woman, no human being, deserves to be manipulated for another person's gain. Whether that gain be financial, romantic, or, simply, time.

There were some things that I kept from her because I was ashamed. I didn't tell her that I was jealous of her because I wanted to be validated in my righteous indignation. I wanted to be the wounded one and instead I was inflicting the pain. I didn't tell her how I cried the night I finally accepted that he'd been lying to me and that even the things he said then were more lies. I didn't tell her how he spoke softly and said that he was only trying to protect me. That he had hoped that one day I could find it in my heart to forgive him. (That's a quote.)

I didn't tell her about his half-birthday dinner where we talked about love and life and future. I didn't tell her that, at times, I thought that maybe he and I could start again. I didn't tell her that he swore that once upon a time, he had tried to show me that he loved me everyday.

I've been cheated on before. And I've been used in another man's scheme. Neither feels better than the other. They are both equal villains. I'm not ashamed of the role I've played in Abrielle's life and I'm not proud either. I'm sad that I was used to hurt her so deeply. I'm sad that it took me four years to see what I should have realized in three months.

I'm not going to 'thank' The Scorpio for being a douche canoe because he doesn't deserve it. This isn't something he should be proud of. But I will say that this time the  bridge has been doused in kerosene and set ablaze. And that's finally the truth.

I'm A Quitter

I've started smoking again. That's how far out of control I feel my life is.

And I've stopped my meds. I can feel the crazy creep up on me every so often.

I am pulling away from my therapist. I just decided one day that she didnt know what she was talking about and couldnt be trusted.

I'm making simple (yet expensive) mistakes at work. I tallied up over a thousand dollars in the past two weeks.

This isn't who I am. I'm not the girl who cries every night after work. I'm not that girl who blogs on her cell phone from a bathroom stall.

Yet, that's what I'm doing. This is who I've become. I recently decided to put in another two and a half years at this job if they'll have me. Meaning I've got to get my head back in the game.

I'm going back to school in the winter.

I'm going to see my doctor in a few weeks.

I'm going back to kickboxing and cardiovascular workouts next week.

I'm taking my life back.

I'm quitting failure.

You are my witness.

Things HG Has Taught Me

1. I don't miss having a roommate. - I never knew how much I valued my privacy until I lost 60% of it.

2. I miss having a roommate. - Knowing that someone is in the other room makes the quiet much more bearable. Plus there's someone to talk to, watch TV with, and make big meals for.

3. I am super controlling. - He pretty much tells me this everyday. And I show it in a variety of ways like... rewashing dishes and adjusting the vents on the room freshener.

4. I receive love through actions. - I came home and he had washed the dishes *and* walked the dog. I literally cried with relief.

5. I have had a lot more experiences than the average person. - HG's never been further west than Vegas, didn't know about 'eat-in' taxes, and is living his hardest life right now.

6. I am blessed. - If only to be a blessing.

7. I have a lot of shit I don't need. - Everything he needs to sustain himself can fit into his car. I want to be more like that.

8. Boys. Eat. A. Lot. - I always think I remember that fact until I watch one eat a large fry, half of my hot dog, and wash it down with a chocolate shake. Seriously, I was awe- stricken.

9. Boys will eat anything. - Including turkey burgers they cook in the microwave. (Blech!)

10. Even the most forward people can be passve-aggressive. - HG: I think I'll head home to Pittsburgh.
Me: *furrowed brows*
HG: I don't wanna assume I can just keep staying here.
Me: *head tilt*
HG: Just wanna throw that out there.
Me: I said you can stay for 30 days. Its been 6.
HG: Oh.

11. Boys observe what needs to be done and ignore it. Men observe what needs to be done and do it. - He washed the dishes, cleaned the bathroom and regularly takes out the trash.

12. I'm not used to feeling loved and appreciated. - This sounds crazy because I always say that I don't do stuff for people expecting to get something in return. But God, its nice to get something in return. Without asking or nagging or bitching.

13. God has a very strong, very patient man in store for me. - As HG put it, "You're kind of whiny and controlling".

14. Watching the same movie three times in one weekend will make me crazy. - NO MORE 'COUPLES RETREAT'.

15. Boys don't notice when things are getting worse but they can readily identify when something is better. -

Me: What's that smell?
HG: What?
Me: That smell. Smell it?
HG: *deep inhale through nostrils* No.
Me: My house is supposed to smell like apples and cinnamon. It doesn't smell like apples and cinnamon.
HG: *totally disinterested* Hmmm...
Me:(mentally) I have to fix this!
********** 4 hours later HG comes back **********
HG: It smells good in here.
Me: Really?
HG: Yeah, better than before.
Me: *content and proud* Its Angel Whispers (by Glade, y'all!).
HG: *still disinterested* Hmmm...

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Saosin Said It Best

I let a homeless man use my shower.

I'm the only person who didn't freak out about it.

My mom wanted a copy of his driver's license. Nat quickly stalked him on Facebook. My dad didn't find out until the next day (I already knew how he'd feel about it).

I saw him while K-Dubs and I were out for our walk. I walked slowly toward the car and asked him if he was living in it. He sad that it was only temporary. That his girlfriend's parents were in town & didn't know that he had been living there. I could smell the BO from where I was standing. This wasn't temporary. I offered him a shower & a sofa bed. He accepted.

I told him that I needed time to clean the shower out and I'd be ready for him in about 10 minutes. He showed up with his own towel and was skeptical that I genuinely wanted nothing in return. When he felt fresh and clean, he drilled me on why I would help him. Did I pity him? Did I want payment?

I told Homeless George that I knew all too well about the things we take for granted. Feeling clean is at the top.

I promised him that there will always be people like me who just want the best for him. People who are willing to help him be his best and to live his best life everyday. His job right now? To seek them out. His job when he's back on his feet? Pay it forward.

Almost 20 years ago, when Nat and I were younger, we slept in a U-Haul truck. We washed in McDonald's bathrooms. We ate a plain bagel as a meal. Because we couldn't afford more. Then, when we were 3/4 of the way to my grandma's house the truck broke down and we were stranded. Until someone offered us a place to stay. This would not be the last time we needed help. This wouldn't be the last time any of us were homeless.

Homeless George opened up to me. His girl is just a friend. His heart belongs to someone back home. His degree has never been useful. His head is clouded with confusion. His spirit is proud.

He said he wants to be independent but he asked to move in with me. He said he wants to get his career in line but he hasn't sent out his resume'. We live 200 yards from the headquarters for a Fortune 500 company and he's never been across the street. He won't ask his parents for money but he's not getting enough to eat.

I bought him some beers, listened to him talk, and then put him to bed. I told him that the sofa was his at night for the next 30 days. I promised him a hot meal at te end of each day and that I'd give his resume' to my mom's recruiter. I'll do whatever I can to help George be independent of me, his parents, and his pride.

Nobody understands why I let him in my home. Its only 600 sq ft and I regularly trip over the dog.

But I've given $20 bills to panhandling veterans. I've given away the food in my hands when my stomach is growling. I've put gas in the tank of a young mother's car. I make blankets for orphaned babies.

I do it because I hope that this one kindness will make them feel less alone.

"You're not alone

There is more to this, I know

You will make it out

You will live to tell"

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Little Family

Sometimes, the last thing you want in life is to spend time with someone who seems to have everything you want in life.

I spent five whole days with Averi and her little family - husband E and toddler Claire - and I thought it would break me. That seeing her in her tank tops and pedal pushers lounging in the backyard with peach daiquiri in hand and Claire running through the Elmo sprinkler on a Friday afternoon would leave me in tears.

I worried that watching her interact with the man who knew he loved her before he ever held her hand, the man who got up every morning and worked hard to make their ends meet, the man who told her that what he needed most was for her to be home taking care of him, their house, and their daughter would fill me with rage.

I was afraid that being around that much love and trust and respect would make my life feel empty. But I didn't feel that way at all. I felt hopeful, confident, and encouraged that I could have that too. And that's nice to think about.

Only Because You Asked

Cake Betch was kind enough to put me on Front Street and call me out on my feelings for The Scorpio. Because she asked, I will answer. But know that I will still publish the other post I've been working on tentatively titled "If Game Recognizes Game, What Does Lame Recognize?". I know. It's a work in progress.

Now, I'm going to write something here that I wish I didn't have to write because I think it's a cop out. But when it comes to describing my relationship with The Scorpio this is the only phrase that fits: It's Complicated.

Do I love him? Yes. With my whole heart. (And if you ever tell him that I said it wrote it, I will deny it, fart on your face while you sleep and burn this post to the ground). But sometimes, my dears, love ain't enough.

We don't see things the same way.

I never ask for anything. I'm sure that's why I'm not as stellar at my job as I could be. It would require asking my boss for tools and/or deals and I'm just not gonna do it. If you want me to have something, you should give it to me, otherwise I will learn to live without it. He asks for everything. all. the. time. The Scorpio treats the universe like a personal Quik-E-Mart. If you say no, he's sure that someone else will say yes and he'll just ask them.

So basically, I end up giving and not getting. This is a problem. It's a problem because I won't say that I'm not getting. I just... change. I get eerily quiet. I walk much more softly. I lose interest in being around you. Because how long can you give and not get before the well runs dry? At some point it has to rain or there will be no more water. You see what I'm saying?

Then there are our personalities. I'm loud, spontaneous, outgoing, adventurous and generally up for anything new. I've been to four continents and daydream about the three I've yet to see. I live for change and he does not. He can't imagine living anywhere else but here. Even though his business would thrive out west or further south, he can't make himself do it. He's attached to everything while I'm attached to nothing. He thinks I'm flighty and I think he's stoic.

And it's really that last sentence that's the problem.

The Scorpio internalizes everything. He very rarely says how he feels or what he's thinking so I never know. I need to be told that I'm wanted and appreciated. That's what makes me feel loved. Without love, doubt creeps in and all of the little things that normally mean nothing suddenly mean everything. No relationship can survive with the hairline fractures in it's foundation.

So... we're friends. As friends we can laugh, have dinner, joke, and be completely open without the pressures of meeting each other's standards. Yeah, it's a cop out and I know it but what do you want from me? I don't have the patience to wait until he's sure that this ship will cross the ocean. I feel like he should know that I'm what he wants and he doesn't. At least he hasn't said it. And if he hasn't said it then to me it isn't real.

And by the way, I totally want a California King. My parents had one when I was growing up because my dad is 6'4". I'm so jealous of you and your quality sleep that it's ridiculous.

I'm Cranky Like Your Grandma

J-Bird didn't sleep well last night. Which led to J-Bird waking up at 10:30p, 1:30a, and again at 4:12 this morning. This led to J-Bird referring to herself in the third person like a douche, so we're just gonna stop that now.

You see, The Scorpio spent the night.

Wait. Let me back up.

He's decided that he wants to be a better man. Which is why he's making some real life changes and partnering with successful men. The Scorpio is finally getting serious about his dreams and goals for himself and accepting that all of this will tie in to his professional dreams and goals. I know because he talked a lot at dinner. Where'd we go? To a local Irish Pub chain, thanks for asking. I had the chicken fingers and onion rings with a glass of Malbec... because I'm classy.

So, we're in this pub and he starts to talk about how open they are to people of all backgrounds (provided you pass the background check), statuses, races, and creeds. He never knew something like this existed (cue my skeptical face because this is America for Christ's sake). But he's in love with an organization and I'm the only one who knows because I'm super smart and figured out the riddle without a decoder ring. Boom!

Then we start to talk about our relationship (as he is wont to do) and told me the biggest thing he thinks has changed about me (I'm more focused and know what I want) and wanted to know what I thought was his biggest change (he shows empathy and is more caring). But theeeen, he asked if I thought I could work things out with the guy I kinda dated before him but it wasn't really a relationship because it just wasn't. And I told him no. That the stuff that broke down between me and that guy just can't be rebuilt into a healthy, adult relationship.

And when he didn't ask about us, I thought I'd give him a piece of what he was asking for. The T-R-U-T-H about our relationship (my side of it) is that I never really believed that The Scorpio wanted to be with me. I mean, he messaged me on a social networking site. Everyone knows that's booty call material (have you seen He's Just Not That Into You)? I also told him that I felt like Charlotte did when she proposed to herself. Then I remembered that he's a guy and therefore doesn't have a trough full of Sex and the City episodes with which to compare his life. Let me set the scene.

One hot summer night, Nat came into town for the weekend and me and all the Party Girls were throwing her a celebration. I brought The Scorpio because I thought it was time. No, we hadn't talked about being official but we were always together and I wanted to be official. Meeting the friends? Totally official, right! The Party Girls didn't know what to do because I'd never brought a guy around before so this must have been serious. They all loved him. He and I sat in the door sill and watched everyone get drunk. I was tucked in his arms, looked up and said, "I'm not seeing anyone else. Do you want to see anyone else?". He shook his head no and that was it. That was all I ever got. Granted, my speech wasn't eloquent in the least but I was hoping for... something.

I spent all summer waiting for him to say that this was what he wanted but he never did. And as the days grew longer, my patience grew shorter and I started to question why I was with him anyway. We had other issues as well. His phone for one. His attitude toward everything. His perpetual lateness. His sense of entitlement. But when you're in a relationship where you don't feel like the other person is in it for you, all of the little things that are normally overlooked become glaring abnormalities that make you feel foolish and used. And when I got tired of being used, I lashed out and walked away.

He did not and has not responded.

There's definitely something missing between that conversation and this next one but I cannot tell you what it is. So, we will jump to where he told me that some girls have a problem with just being his friend and feel like they own him even though they don't. Like the girl that was talking shit to me on Twitter. My head snapped up and I was all, "Ummm... excuse me? What?". Because even though the chick mentioned me, I didn't get a notification. So he showed it to me and she's all "@JBird* @TheScorpio* get off his dick. so transparent". This made me angry so I told him that I had a video camera at my place and that I was prepared to "send this bitch tape" of me riding his dick.

I guess he didn't know I could be so evil. But he begged asked me calmly not to do or say anything to her because he doesn't want the drama. So, then I had a thought. I had been chosen. This excited me! Fast forward to him being at my apartment. I checked to see what K-Dubs was barking at and when I got back he was under the covers. I was tre' confused and asked why he was set up to spend the night when he told me that he just wanted to be prepared. I still don't know what for. Especially since it was only 9:45.

I put on The Other Bolyn Girl and he was snoring in about 3 minutes. But at 10:30, I almost fell off the bed because I had been laying precariously on the edge with my feet already hanging over the side. And at 1:30, I got hit in the face. So, at 4:30 when I woke up to him laying in the exact middle of the bed, with his head on my pillow, and his pillow tucked safely against his body, I was done. I woke him up gently and asked if he was ready to go home. He was in his own bed by 5. I should have gone back to sleep but instead I did a 45 minute cardio workout followed by 10 minutes of yoga.

Now, I'm exhausted. I've been up for way too long already. And part of me can't stop thinking about how he off-handedly mentioned that I should have stayed to see the second game on Sunday because I missed his touchdown. While the other part of me is like THIS DUDE SLEEPS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE BED! I know which side I'm listening to though. It's the side that can't wait to crawl back into my bed... alone.

* Not our real Twitter aliases

Marry Me Already!!! (AKA Happenings From My Weekend)

This weekend was so refreshingly busy.

I spent some time with The Scorpio on Thursday. It started off rocky because I came very close to slipping into one of my sullen moods. But he's very perceptive and (apparently) hard of hearing so I when I tried to explain what was going on in my head his words of comfort made no sense and got me laughing instead. We also argued over the virtue of tipping your server. He doesn't believe in it. I used to serve. The discussion ended with me demanding that he either a) give me the money he owed me so that I could tip or b) use said money to do the tipping himself. I always win.

Friday? I don't really know what I did on Friday except for panic because my body was acting funny. I also fended off the Red Cross lady because my iron has been so low for the last 3 months that I've been deferred 3 times. I haven't gone back to my doctor about it though. I'm in that place of denial where I just don't want to know. Because if I know then I have to do something about it. And the last time she and I agreed to "do something" about it I ended up taking 3 pills a day trying to make my body right.

If you know me, then you know how I hate supplements and pills and Western medicine in general. I'm just going to work fitness back into my life, eat better (goodbye fried foods!), and manage my stress levels. I'm giving myself a 3 month hiatus from worrying about anyone that's not me. (Ha! I say that but it'll last about a day maybe a day and a half).

Saturday, I got up early and did my morning workout. I've started TurboFire and I really do love it. I also spent some time just snuggling with my doggie because I knew I'd be gone all day. By, 2p I was at my babysitting gig and ready to take over my charges. It was for a couple I've known for years and they've been going through some rough times as a family so my work was pro-bono. The mom and dad hadn't been out together in over 3 months and even I could tell that they needed some time alone. So, off they went and it was just me, their pre-teen (Brynne age 11) and their toddler (Jimbo age 3). Jimbo is newly potty trained and the discovery of his penis has been mon-u-men-tal. He showed it to me first thing and then I got to see his butt. CBS111 was right when she said having a straight face and a disinterested tone would save me from having to see it again unnecessarily. (Thank you!)

Brynne's been friends with April and Rebecca since kindergarten so she was kind of let down when I didn't have them with me. I promised that she'd get some time with them soon enough and made her start on her homework. It's not the most popular thing a babysitter can do but I needed her to be busy while I cleaned the kitchen. (You should have seen this kitchen! I can't stand dirty bathrooms and kitchens. Those are the two most important rooms in the house, people! Seriously!) After I gave everything, including the cabinets and trash can, a good scrubbing, we put our sweatshirts and sneakers on and took a bike ride to the park.

Jim peddled his big wheel the whole way to the park and only asked me to push him up the hills because "there must be something wrong with [his] wheels". It's cute, I know. But my back said that he needed to learn how to peddle harder. We got to the park and he played his heart out on the play equipment. Brynne was feeling melancholy and Jimbo had used the porta potty so I felt like it was time to go and get dinner started. No sooner than we get their bikes put away, my mom pulls up with April and Becca. Brynne about wet herself with excitement.

I got outvoted for pizza 4:1 (obviously, none of them know the value of a dollar) and they set to doing kid things while I finished picking up the play room. Rebecca, my buddy, my pal, my fellow *NSYNC lover, starts singing "Gone" and I'm taken back to Senior year when that album ruled my life and I still loved JC (before he started messing with Tara Reid). When Brynne yells out "OK, enough of the oldies!". I almost smacked someone else's child but instead tweeted it with the hash tag #GoneCameOutMySrYearAndImNotOldPunk. But I certainly felt old when I calculated how old I would be when they graduated in 2016, 2018, and 2019 (we won't even do the math on little man). *sigh*

They played themselves silly and we were all in bed by 10p.

Image found here

Sunday, I got up and made some fluffy blueberry pancakes with sugared-strawberries. The kids threw down and the adults had coffee and conversation. Brynne and Jimbo got ready for church and I hauled April and Becca home. I raced to take care of my dog and just made it to The Scorpios flag football game in time. I met two young ladies with the sweetest 3-year-old I've ever seen and we talked and laughed and had good conversation. When the game ended, I was ready to bounce but they told me that there was a second game. No way!

I asked The Scorpio and he said that indeed there was a second game and it was right now. Then he picked up the 3YO I'd been playing with. You know, the young ladies' niece. Oh. My. God. I'd been talking with his sisters (the two I don't know) for an hour. Then I started to notice things like how one of the ladies actually has his same eyes and complexion. Or how she'd been saying "Tariq this" and "Tariq that" for the last hour. Only she pronounces it "Tear-ick" and I've always assumed its "Tah-reek". I vaguely remember an adolescent who played catch with The Scorpio in the park when we dated way back when. But this kid? "Tear-ick"? He was at least 5'9" with a moustache! This can't be the same little boy who idolized my boyfriend.

And that other kid that looks just like The Scorpio did when he was 13, I am *just* now noticing him. I could feel the intense heat of his entire family burning a hole through me. I mean, you have to understand. Our relationship never got that serious. He only met my family because I was a transitioning into my mom's townhouse while she was buying her house. I've seen his grandmother but that's because he lives with her. I've never actually been inside the house. Having unknowingly spent an hour with his family, having them all stare at me like I'd sprouted a second head, and not having him as a buffer caused me to high-tail it out of there. And it inspired a short conversation between the two of us later. I just looooove how he can laugh at everything that causes me stress. It's so supportive.

Anywho, all I did after that was workout and laundry. My place has been cleaner lately so I didn't have any clutter or anything wearing on my nerves. All that to say, what did you do this weekend?

I Found Love In A Box

Last night, I drove 20 minutes out of my way for food. I know what you're thinking. "Tsk, tsk, tsk, J-Bird. I thought we were losing weight?". And you're right, we *are* trying to lose weight. But I'm grown and I do what I want, dammit! And what I wanted last night were great cupcakes. So, I went to Pink Moon.

They have short business hours but I managed to get there a half hour before close. And at first, I was so sad. There were all these beautiful cupcake plates and not. one. cupcake. None. They were all gone. I didn't want to ask but I think the look on my face said it all. The nice lady behind the counter promised me that they really did have cupcakes but they start frosting to order as they get closer to closing time.

There was one daily special left and it was the Dreamsicle cupcake. Now, in real life, I don't care for Dreamsicles at all. But I've never met a cupcake that I didn't like and I obviously was going to be part of an elite group so I bought it and two others. I drove home wanting to pack my mouth full of cupcakes during the ride but knowing that these cupcakes right here were special.

It was like Christmas in my kitchen

I'm gonna be real honest with you here. I touched my tongue to the sweet, tangy, soft, orange-y butter cream frosting and about lost my mind. That is why there aren't any photos to prove that the Dreamsicle cupcake exists. I ate it scarfed it while standing at my kitchen counter, rolling my eyes in the back of my head and moaning, "Mmmmmm...", "Oh my God" and "This is SO good!".

You make that much noise while eating a cupcake and people are bound to notice. So, when someone doesn't exactly asked you to share but definitely says that they look so good and that they'll have to remember to make it out there to the bakery. And when you know that they really want one of the other two cupcakes that you really should share because your mother raised you better. And after you've promised yourself that you will go back to Pink Moon and replace the cupcake you're going to give away. After you steel your emotions and talk yourself out of crying at the idea of giving away God's gift to baked goods. When you've done all of that, you offer them the chocolate chocolate cupcake - on the condition that you be allowed to take photos of the experience (and because giving them the Pumpkin Buttercream is completely out of the question).

Pumpkin Buttercream in the back; Chocolate-Chocolate in the front

Choc-Choc halved. There's a better pic but it won't upload

The thing about it is that no one (except maybe children) will agree to letting me put pictures of them on my blog. At least, not with a mouth full of cupcake (and a nose tip covered in frosting).

So, let me describe it for you in words.

The Pink Moon cupcake has to be broken down into it's succulent layers. The cake is a heavy, dense cake that is packed full of flavor. At first, you think it's too much because of the weight of the cupcake but as you can see from the sliced chocolate-chocolate cupcake, there's a good 1/2 inch of icing on there. When you bite into the cake it is moist and doesn't crumble but instead chunks. Yes, small bits of cake fall here and there. You will want to rescue them with a press of your index finger but (DON'T!) you'll only make it worse. The moisture in the cake requires that you use your index finger and thumb to retrieve the morsels. People will stare; you won't be sorry.

All cupcakes are frosted with a flavored butter cream frosting. It's soft and sweet and sticky. Pink Moon frosting is light and touched with just the right amount of flavor. The Dreamsicle frosting had an orange-y tang that took me back to the days of ice cream trucks and Saturday morning cartoons. It laid effortlessly atop the cupcake and moved easily when I pushed it around the cake to get coverage on the sides. The bit of chocolate frosting that I stole had hint of dark cacao and I'm sure paired perfectly with the dense chocolate cake.

At $3 a piece, I'd buy them again. Every day. For the rest of my life if I could afford it. Lucky for me, I thought ahead and have a Pumpkin Buttercream cupcake waiting for me when I get home tonight. If you're in Central Ohio and can make the time (and find the money), I recommend taking a short trip to Pink Moon Cupcake Bakery. It's totally worth it.

Livin' A Stainy Life

There are stains on my sweater. It kinda looks like I had a really juicy, exceptionally greasy hamburger and just let it run all down my front... and I don't care. Which is how I've been living my life the last few days. Just whatever happens will happen and I'm not in the mood to pretend to have control over it.

I have an ungodly amount of laundry that needs to be done and I have the money and time just not the motivation. There are 6 glasses and 3 pans in my sink that I haven't washed. Now, you would think that I'm allowed this because I washed everything else. But the truth is that I haven't cooked in over a week and those glasses are from the random drink of water I place on my nightstand every night. Classy, huh?

Side bar: Ohemgee, I spent SO MUCH MONEY this weekend! Like, yes, I paid all of my bills the moment my paycheck hit. And yes, I got the hair cut I've been talking about for over a year (maybe two). Sure, Klea has all her shots and got a new batch of flea treatment. But damn!, I spent a lot of money! Living is hard, you guys.



The Scorpio came over last weekend and I hadn't cleaned a thing. What he said was, "See! *This* is natural!". What I heard was, "OMG, you're an effing slob!". Same thing really. But since he didn't volunteer to take out the trash and left his apple core on my table, I'm sure that his place looks as bad or worse.

He and I are kinda fighting in that we're not really fighting because we're not a couple but there is a Mexican stand-off of sorts going where I don't acknowledge any of his extracurricular activities and he pretends not to notice. And he hasn't asked or offered to spend time with me so I pretend that I like sitting in my apartment by myself. Which, for the record? I very much hate spending time by myself. It's kinda creepy and I'm worried that some crack head is going to come through my window and stab me in the neck with a filthy needle. I should probably move.

But that's about it. I'm back to living my life like a recluse except I'm doing it out of I don't know why rather than depression or necessity. I just have all this energy that I want to get out but I can't do it by myself because that's just weird. I really miss having a roommate and just someone else in the house to keep all the weird noises at bay. I swear on everything I own that I heard footsteps in my attic! Which is insane, right? And they couldn't get past that lock I put on the drop door anyway. HahahHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Maybe I just need some sleep?

Are There Words Between Those Lines?

Lately, The Scorpio has been much more open. If that can even be said about Scorpios. They are notoriously silent. Which drives me absolutely insane! Because how I am supposed to know what you're thinking if you don't open your mouth?! But I digress.

The Scorpio has been much more open. Sunday night, we talked about our pasts. I rambled on through every relationship from age 14 to him and he just sat there in wonder. You might say that it was a bad idea but I don't think it was. It won't kill him to know where I've been. And depending on how he reacts to the information, I may decide to tell him how I got through it. Partial information is better than none at all, right?

Sometimes, I chastise myself for being so obsessive about everything. Sometimes, my obsession comes in handy. I'm not good at putting information together right away. Not that I'm slow or mentally handicapped, I just happen to take everything at face value.

For instance, CBS111 was telling me about a great part-time opportunity and she was so excited and I was totally bringing her down because I was giving her the weirdest face. How could she be excited about a customer service position? Didn't we deal with enough of other people's problems during the day? Why would she want to do this at night? I didn't say anything positive or negative because I checked out and couldn't put anything she was saying into context.

If she had told me that her part-time opportunity was in a pharmacy, then I would have been properly excited for her. I know that she's always dreamed of a profession in medicine. But she didn't say that, so I couldn't comprehend her excitement. Sure, she said that she had to wear scrubs. And yes, I knew that the woman she was referencing worked in a pharmacy but none of that came together inside my head. And when I (finally) realized what it is that she would be doing (only because I asked and she told me outright), I shared in her excitement.

That's pretty much how it works with me.

So, when The Scorpio said that he didn't notice me until he met my sister, my response was, "In high school? She would have been a freshman". He responded yes, he'd noticed me in high school. So I scoffed and was all "I was a Senior. Trust that I didn't know who you were". And then I proceeded with my original thought because he rudely interrupted me with his memory of the day he saw me. Don't get me wrong. My senior year was my only year at that school. (Technically, I got enrolled on April 11th of my Junior year but since I had to have my class schedule corrected twice and I walked to work immediately after school, the only person I knew was my guidance counselor.)

And like I said before, Nat started high school my senior year and I spent the whole first semester trying to ditch her. Not because I didn't love her but because I knew it had to be done. She'll remember it as me being too cool but even then she was my best friend. The problem was that I had so many credits that I would only need 2 classes in the second semester and I knew that. If Nat didn't make friends now, she'd be screwed when that time came. Plus, she's super timid and wasn't going to do it on her own. She needed the push. She joined a couple of sports teams and found her niche. My job was done.

I remember hearing The Scorpio's name in passing because of Homecoming but I know they didn't actually make it to the dance. And then she started dating the quarterback and I heard his name over and over and over again. Actually, some super petty girls were so jealous that they came to the restaurant I worked at to tell me that my sister was at Homecoming with the starting quarterback and I should tell my parents because he was not a nice guy. Hahahaha! Fat girls are a trip.

Anyways, it wasn't until three hours later when I was laying on my couch alone and already bored with the NCAA Championship game that I remembered what he said. He noticed me in high school. That was ten years ago. How can he remember that day so clearly when I can't even remember what I wore on our first date? Was it really that important to him? Why do I always catch on so late?

So, that's what I'm currently obsessing over. There are other things he's shared with me and I can say that I'm touched. It takes a lot of trust to get him to open up and I like that he trusts me (or is a really good actor). He told me some other stuff too but given his penchant for privacy I won't disclose them. I did tell him though that we could have been this close for a YEAR now and that I can't believe all that time was wasted. He tried to blame me for misinterpreting things but I told him I didn't want to fight about it. We're just going to say he was wrong and call it a day.

Total Control

I laughed so hard my side started hurting. It was unreal to me at first. Mentally, I knew I was ok but my panicky side tried to kick in because I wasn't breathing and what I was experiencing just wasn't normal. I was laughing uncontrollably. It's quite possible that I wet myself a little bit.

Why?

Because he wants Total Control.

It doesn't read as funny as it sounds in my head but I promise you that it is.

I have control issues. This is not a secret.

Yesterday, a good friend asked me if I found myself in relationships with weak men because I am so strong and forceful. I told her "No" and that's the truth. I don't find myself in relationships with weak men because weak men don't have the courage to approach strong women. I find myself in relationships with strong men who perpetrate weakness thinking that it will appease me.

There's nothing I hate more than to ask a man where he wants to go for dinner and to receive "I don't care", "I don't know", or "You pick" as the response. If I had wanted to pick, I would have said, "Let's go to such-and-such for dinner" or "I feel like blankety-blank". Because the same person that tells you that you're an overbearing bitch who won't let him be a man is the same person who defers every decision (major or minor) to you.

I can't "let" you be a man. Either you are or you aren't. And if you were the man for me, we wouldn't be having this fight.

The best relationship of my life was with a complete and utter asshole. I loved him inside and out for all that he was and all that he offered. I trusted him with every fiber of my being. And it was only because he could make a decision. When J said something would get done, it got done. When he wanted to do something, he made it known. If he was unhappy, it was expressed. There was no moping around being sulky and passive-aggressive; I don't have time for that anyway.

I didn't trust J at first either. I lived through a lot of bull shit before I met him including a broken engagement. He watched me swoon over Sofa Guy and when he'd had enough of my whining and complaining he said, "Oh dear God! You're not his girlfriend! You're just some girl that he's f*cking!".

It's safe to say that I lost my shit all over him.

I told him to get out, get lost, and never come back.

Two weeks later my phone rang. I picked it up without uttering a syllable and he said, "Was I right?". I told him he was. "I didn't wanna be". He told me that he wanted to be with me. That nothing and no one else mattered. J said that if I could manage to get my head out of my ass I would see that he was in love with me. This is not the stuff that movies are made of but it's the kind of love that I need.

He knew that everyday with me was a test. I was waiting for him to make a promise that he wouldn't keep. I weighed everything he said hoping to find a lie. But he never let me down. And when I finally let myself, I fell so head-over-heels-bluebirds-singing-come-on-get-happy in love that giving him control came easy. I wanted to please him because he made me happy every single day. I knew that if I fell he'd be right there to catch me and in the off chance that he missed, he'd be there to pick me up. Who could want more than that?

Am I saying that we never argued? No, of course not. But he always stood his ground and sometimes we'd walk away angrier and with nothing settled but at least he let me walk away.

So many men are so possessive and afraid of losing me that I want to run away. There's something powerful about a man that knows I'm coming back. Sure, I'm angry. Sure, I'm leaving the room. But don't you know that I want you? How many ways do I have to say it/ show it/ live it before you really believe it? J always believed it. His belief in me, in us, made me believe it to.

These last five years without J have made me a much harder woman than I was before. Trusting doesn't come easy and my love doesn't come cheap. There are more steps on the path to Total Control. But if you really think you deserve it and you really think I'm worth it, quit your bitching and get on the trail.

If You Give A Mouse A Cookie...

Then you'll have to start carrying cookies with you everywhere you go just in case you see the mouse because now he has expectations.

The Scorpio and I had sex. It was unadventurous and I did not give it my best shot. Actually, I was kinda pissy the whole time. But he wouldn't allow that to deter him.

My problem? He now thinks that everytime we're in the same room together we're supposed to have sex. Or if we travel in the same vehicle and pass my house? He wonders why we didn't stop to get it on. Sunday, he informed me that it's been "so long" since he's had sex. It's been 11 days. Eleven. I feel like he needs to give the whining a break.

Yes, I know its my fault. And no, I have not told my therapist. But he's really killing me right now what with being so damned agreeable and attentive. I don't like it. If I start liking it then things will change and I don't want that.

I guess what I'm saying is that I like where our relationship is right now.

We can get together and do the mundane like shop for football cleats and computer software. We can have spirited arguments, like how Chris Brown could personally fund a battered woman's shelter and I STILL wouldn't let him play that son-of-a-bitch's CD in my car. We can laugh and joke and have lunch and be friends.

But sometimes, when he looks at me, I can tell he wants more than friendship. Other times, when he puts his hands on me, I am *sure* that he wants more than friendship. I've been completely honest with him and I believe that he knows where I stand but that doesn't mean he'll stop trying. Maybe I don't want him to stop trying? I'm not sure.

What I do know is that he wasn't *this* attentive when we were dating. I do like the attention but I don't like where it could lead. I have a well-known tendency to let the Scorpio to trample on my emotions. I will pat myself on the back and applaud my ability to keep my mother out of this whole thing. My stress levels are thanking me.

Anyways, that's what's going on there.

ohemgee! She's so cute! via Little Brownie Bakery's website

A hearty THANK YOU! to Mrs. G for saving Klea's life and giving me a sleeve of Thin Mints. She says that it's from the kindness of her heart but I'm sure there are other reasons. =)

I Scared Myself Straight

This weekend was cuh-razy!

So many things happened that could have been avoided but, true to form, I tackled them head on with my bow and arrow aimed for the gullet.

On Friday, I still hadn't found a way to be at peace with myself. I have a tendency to dwell on things and the episode with The Scorpio, blocking calls from my mother, dodging Averi, and not hearing from my brother were all weighing on me heavily. (Ethan is ok, I just haven't spoken to him in months. It makes me anxious).

I was driving along, minding the Mercedes in front of me. He was going 25 in a 40 and I had had enough. I waited my turn, put my blinker on, and changed lanes to the left all so he could cut me off and cross 3 lanes of traffic. I throw my hands up in the air, ask him what the fuck he's doing and glare in his direction. After he's made it from the middle right lane to the left-hand turn lane he glances into my car where I'm still scowling at him.

I drive another three lights and have managed to merge, with class and without incident, to the left turn lane. I've even turned by now. And I'm another two lights down this cross street when I hear someone yell into my car, "You got something you want to say to me?". I ignore it because I'm at the cool mall with the bus line and this won't be the first time I've been approached by riff-raff. But it's after he speaks again that I turn my head.

It's the Mercedes. I tell him to "...get away from me". There's no need for expletives in the first warning. He tells me that if I don't want trouble then I shouldn't do "that". Now I'm pissed. I roll the window all the way down and ask if he likes to teach lessons. I let him know that I'm a teacher too and if he doesn't have anything else to do on a Friday than to follow me around town, he can keep on because he'll get what he came for. He rolls his eyes and begins to mock me. I park the car and unbuckle my seat belt.

He doesn't know me. And I've forgotten who I am.

I reach around the back seat, grab my purse, and pull out the mace. I reach under the passenger seat and I'm getting the crowbar. It's when the car behind me honks that I remember who I really am and where I am. I'm ashamed of who I was about to become.

I was ten seconds away from becoming the girl that none of you know. The one who would never back down from a fight. The one who plans for the worst because she doesn't know that there's better. The girl who has all the wrong people on speed dial and makes sure you get that first, calm warning so that everything afterward can be justified.

I'm the girl who got into fights on the playground but had it excused because I got straight A's. The one who beat a freshman kid's ass in front of the Principal's office because he told everyone he had sex with my sister. I'm the one who walked back to her rapist's dorm with a gun. I'm the girl who left her drug dealing boyfriend but kept the inside contacts. I'm the girl who managed to do dirt but walk away with her hands clean.

I lived my life without fear. I didn't need to be afraid because I had nothing to live for.

This is where I should say that Jesus saved me but that would be a lie. Jesus didn't save me, love did.

Friday night I scared the shit out of myself because it occured to me that I was living like I had nothing to live for. And when you have nothing to live for you stop living. I don't want to lead a life where I merely exist.

But I've got to be my own hero because currently there's no one else here to save me.

I'm Not Being A Good Friend

He deserved better.

The Scorpio, I mean. He deserved so much better than I gave him this weekend.

Because for some reason, I was in one God-awful mood. And while he did his best to take it in stride, I did my absolute best immitation of a psychotic shrew.

I'm not gonna lie. In the land of blame, it's 20% his fault and only 80% mine.

It started on Wednesday when he asked me if I wanted to "hang out". I went to college. I had the experience. I know the boy definition of "hang out". And so I told him no. But that wasn't good enough. He pushed and pushed and pushed until I told him that I wouldn't be free until Saturday.

But he was soooo booooooored. Didn't I know that? I told him again that I was busy. And that was that. Until Friday night. He wanted to come over. And normally, I wouldn't have been opposed except I didn't want him over my dirty house, that was covered in dust and dog dander and I was wrapped in a blanket half asleep anyway.

But he wouldn't let it go. I said that we would be friends. And I said that we would hang out anytime either of us wanted. And I was being completely unfair to him right now. And please, please, pleeeeeeeeeease. He wasn't doing anything and I wasn't doing anything and we could just do nothing togeeeeetheeeeer.

First, I was peeved because he misquoted me. What I said was, "...either of us can call when we wanna hang out..." which in no way implies that you'll get a yes. And then I was upset because I had said no at least a dozen times. I hate to repeat myself. If I have to repeat myself it's because you're either A) not listening to what I say or B) don't care about what I want. Neither of which are acceptable.

I could hear my therapist telling me to stay strong and finally I just stopped responding to his messages. Then I vented on Facebook, deleted the entire string of messages, and digitally removed The Scorpio from my life. All of which made me feel loads better and I slept like a baby.

Saturday morning, I woke up before dawn and got more done before noon than I have since the first snow. I was so proud of myself; still am actually. I am addicted to telling all of my business and therefore made sure I tweeted the day's adventures non-stop. I had just taken a seat in my living room when The Scorpio texted me again.

What was I doing? Thinking about dinner. Did I want to go do something? Immediately, I responded with, "Are you asking me for sex?". To which he says that he wants to grab a bite to eat first and then maybe that. LOL. Hahaha. So muthasucking funny. I was all "Fine. Whatever you want." and was thinking "because it's ALWAYS about you! It's ALWAYS about what The Scorpio wants even though its the rest of us that have to do all the fucking work". I didn't say that because it's so mean. Even I know that!

And then seven minutes later, I told him that I wasn't in the mood to be anywhere near him if only because he pisses me off. He was completely confused. I got angrier. Why was he confused? Why should I do what he wants? I JUST WANT TO SHAVE MY LEGS! How dare he accuse me of reading too much into our friendship? Who the hell did he think he was? My house wasn't clean enough for guests! I told him that there was no decency in the way he was treating me because I am not a whore and will not be petitioned for sex! By text message no less!

You can see how none of that makes sense. Now that I've re-read it a dozen times, I can see why he was confused. Plus he pointed out that I was the one that mentioned sex therefore getting his hopes all up. And he really just wants to be friends if I'll let him. I calmed down enough to actually have a meal but I didn't get any saner nicer.

I might have told him that I didn't trust him. And I could have said that he needed the survey that comes on every dinner check more than I did. It is possible that I interrupted him while speaking a hundred or so times. Perhaps, there was a moment when my head spun 'round when he called me by his sister's name. Which, while in the midst of my fury, I accused him of having NO SISTERS AT ALL when I know full well that he has three and I'm super tight with one.  I absolutely told him to "pick a damned restaurant! [Because] I can't stand a man who won't make a decision!". I may have told him that sex with him was... *pause, pause, pause* "good?". Yes, three pauses. I thought he might die.

I cannot explain my behavior in any way. I was just suuuuuuuper bitchy. And he took it like a champ. Except for the third time he told me not to interrupt him anymore. He actually growled that through clenched teeth. And he asked me what the fuck my problem was when I made the check comment. He might have screamed out his sister's name is angst because I was yelling like a banshi and he said that it took him back to fights with her.

And then on the ride home he said, "Haha. Your car smells like food". And immediately, I was thanking him on complimenting my pina colada car freshener. I had looked so hard for one that was girly but not too overpowering. It's hard to find good, long-lasting car fresheners, ya know? For him to be all, "I said food. Not drinks". My face was so sad which inspired him to sing, "Payback is a biiiiiiiiiiiiiiitch".

I earned that one.

I'm A Little Out of Practice

I got drunk last night.

So very, very drunk.

If you follow me on Twitter, then 1. Yay! and 2. I'm sorry.

But the good news is that I'm not hungover! Which is a miracle in and of itself because I remember what I drank and it's just unpretty.

I knew that I was gonna get crazy but I had planned to save that for this evening. Instead, around 5:30 last night, with my long pants soaked up to my knees and snow flakes landing on my lapels, I decided that I would use the emergency money in my car to buy a fifth of tequila. I ran this crazy idea by Sam and Bailey's moms (Klea's playgroup) and Bailey's mom was all "That's a great idea! I'll drink it with you and then we can go to the bar!". Her words were like honey to my ears. She was even willing to drive.

Hello, Lover.

We washed down our curly fries with Senor Jose and then jumped in her vehicle and drove to our local pub. I warned my Tweeps (Twitter peeps) that it was about to go down and most of them were on board for the ride. What I hadn't considered was that I would start texting (then sexting *gasp!*) my "friend".

He and I have been together since 2005. It's an on-and-off friends with benefits relationship. Nobody knows we're friends and we like it that way. When we first started our relationship, I panicked to the brink of my sanity and told him that I needed rules. Just three.

1. He can not ever tell me if he were sleeping with someone else at the same time. (That's just nasty and I would freak the eff out.)
2. He can not get me pregnant.
3. We can both call, and if desired, deny the request.

He looked at me, grinned, and said he had three rules of his own.

1. I can never ask where he is or who he's with.
2. I can never trick him into getting me pregnant.
3. When I stop calling, I'm never to explain why.

I figured that was fair enough and an agreement was made. To be honest, I forget he's even there in the wings unless I'm drunk and boyfriendless. Which is where I found myself last night. The first text (around 8:00) said, "You know how I get when I'm drunk? Well, I'm drunk... and single!". To which he responded, "Oh, yeah? :)". I didn't even know he'd been sending me text messages all night. I was too busy being asked if I was "still a snug fit".

When I finally woke up it was only because he called me at 11:20. Who does that?

When I answered the phone at 11:20 the conversation went like this:
Me: Hello? (What he heard: hhhhhawwooo?)
Friend: It's me.
Me: Hmmm...
Friend: Am I coming over?
Me: No. I'm asleep!  (nonafeanvnaep vaijioapvehaui ahueapfne)
Friend: I can't understand you.
Me: Why would you call me this late? So rude! (famioemaoapvnaeun afhuean ehau pajfiejpahae)
Friend: Are you trying to see me or not?
Me: No. (No.)
*phone disconnects*

The next thing I knew it was four o' clock and I felt like someone had stuck me with an adrenaline needle. That's when I saw his final message from last night, sent around 11:30p.

"You are the only woman I know that can drunk text me at 8 and be passed out by 11".

I think he's starting to fall in love with me.

(photo Tequila Buzz. The review is absolutely hateful. True. But hateful nonetheless.)

How Does That Make You Feel?



Pic via Life of a Fire Wife but obviously a Peanuts cartoon

Soooo, I'm back in therapy. And to be honest, I feel much, much better as a person. I had stopped going because when I told my family that I was in therapy what I heard in response was, "You're not crazy!", "You don't need therapy, you just need to relax", "I don't know, Dude. Therapy is for people that can't handle their own shit". So, I stopped. Against my therapist's (and my own) better judgment.

My life without therapy has sucked so hard that I can't describe it without vulgarity*. The worst part is that I began to believe that I should be able to handle all of the problems I was having without assistance. Well, I finally came to my senses and went back to see my therapist. You know its bad when you want to hug the one person in the world who's paid to judge because you feel like they're the only one not judging you.

I got her all caught up on the latest goings on. I told her about my Gramma, my mom, my girl scout cookies, about April and Rebecca, about Mr. T, about Little T, about the Scorpio, about all the babies, about the month of February and its significance and pretty much wept like a newly freed hostage. It felt good.

She gave me some guidelines for my life, which I need because I live for rules. She validated all of my feelings including the ones I've been told I'm not supposed (or allowed) to feel. And she has put herself in the position of being my scapegoat. If she were a man, I'd swear this was real love.

My rules:

• No more baby showers - until she decides I'm ready. At this point, they're just unhealthy for me.
• No holding other people's babies - until I decide I'm ready. Which will most likely occur when I have my own.
• No more unreciprocated giving - with the exception being to charities. She feels like my inate desire to help is being taken advantage of by certain people in my life who feel like they're entitled to receive my help without respect for my schedule or limitations.
• No more doing what other people want and/or expect - I'm to do what I want when I want provided I'm willing to accept the consequences of my actions. This is actually working out really well and has taken a load of stress off.
• I must put myself first - It's the age-old argument that you're no good to anyone else if you're not taking care of yourself. So, I have to create my nest egg before I give anyone else financial help. I have to refuse to give someone a ride if I already have plans. I have to tell you to wait until Thursday for me to pick that thing up because that's when I'm next free and you just have to deal with that.
• I must stop taking on other people's problems - She has recognized a tendency for me to cloak myself in other's issues and burdens and recommends that I tell them to get a therapist like I have.
• I must be thankful for at least one thing everyday - Even if I make it up and it feels like a lie.

The good news is: I'm not crazy. Yes, I still have obsessive and addictive tendencies. Yes, I still judge myself and others too harshly. Yes, I still have underlying feelings of guilt for my accomplishments and achievements. I'm still stubborn, head-strong, and under value myself. But we'll deal with those things in time.

She's hoping that soon I'll allow her to venture into the realm of things I don't talk about. I admitted that the reason I stopped going to see her is because she was on to me. She's astute enough to notice that while I can (and will) talk for hours, I can (and will) talk to you about the most vacuous of topics and in the end have told you nothing at all. Now it's just a battle of the "will"s. Will I allow myself to be vulnerable and open up to her? Or will I hold myself hostage behind this gilded cage forever?

* It sucked harder than an 800-pound man trying to get oxygen after a full marathon. It sucked harder than a porn star with Hoover-type tendencies and no gag reflex. It sucked harder than your mom after a free meal at Red Lobster. (Bazinga!)

What's In a Name?

Editor's Note: I still don't feel like myself on most days. I'm slowly getting back to the place where I can enjoy life. With that being said, here's part two of Peter Pan's story.

Shakespeare once asked, "Whats in a name?". He wrote, "That which we call a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet". * He also penned more than a hundred phrases that still resonate to the core of our beings. Willie related the beauty of a woman to the brightness and glory of the sun. If it had been him that called me by the wrong name, I'd have been fine.

I only bring it up because Peter Pan called me by the wrong name. In a text message! Which we all know is his favorite method of communication.

It started out innocently enough. He wanted to say "Hey". But he didn't say just Hey. He said, "Hey JBard". I first brushed it off because C'mon! Right? It's just a typo. Damn You Auto Correct! But then he did it again and again.

It was only because he kept texting me that I finally called him. Well, that and his persistent texting caused me to have a caustic reaction in the ice cream aisle of my grocery store. Imagine standing in the frozen treats aisle debating with your partner over the benefits of getting the name brand ice cream on sale versus the store brand just because it's cheaper, when a crazy, overweight lady whose pocket keeps ringing bursts out with "Uuuuuuugggggghhhhhh! What the hell do you want?!?". That would freak you out, right? Well it freaked out the lady in the aisle with me so I totally rolled my eyes at her, snatched my phone from my pocket and dialed the mo.

He says, "Hey J-Beard"
Me: Hey
PP: I miss you
Me: That's weird. We don't even know each other well enough for that.
Because, really? People! It's been like 48, maybe 56, hours.

He proceeded to tell me that he wanted to know me. If I gave him a chance to know me that I wouldn't regret it. It was creepy. I told him that I had to go because I was busy and that I would call him when I wasn't busy. We hung up and... almost immediately... he texted me. Peter Pan wanted to know if our date for Wednesday was still on. Actually, he wanted to know "our meetin on wednesday cumin on".

Firstly, I was angry that he was even texting me because I know I just said I was busy before I hung up the damned phone. Secondly, why would he spell "come" like that! Ewah! Plus, he had spelled my name wrong... again. And had managed to say it wrong on the phone. Now, I'll give the pronunciation to the whole accent thing but I told him how to spell my name. He's just doing it on purpose at this point.

When he asked me to meet him at 7p on Wednesday, I told him that I wasn't going anywhere with someone who didn't know my name. He acted all confused and wrote, "Am sorry just shorten your name". And then proceeded without shame to say, "I want us meet where u wil feel comfortable there is a bar in de mall I would like us meet over there if it is ok wit u If u have a place in mind u can out wit it".

My head almost exploded in grammatical anger.

Then he asked me if I was still busy. Like 20 seconds after that written assault on the English language. By now I'm all over Facebook with the ridiculousness of this whole tale because how can you spell and say my name wrong then think that we're still on for a date? How! I've also let Av know that her crime will not go unpunished and I can only think of one way for her to make penance: free beers.

I tell him yes, that I'm busy and then I proceed to spell my full name. J-B-I-R-D. I tell him that calling me JBeard or JBard is not the same and that he needs to stop. Now. That it's really starting to piss me off. He apologizes and then says that he'll explain it to me when we meet and wants to know if I'm driving or if he's picking me up. I'm all "No. You'll explain it to me now".

And then he tells me that he has a cousin named Joyous Beardlandia and they call her J-Beard for short. And because my name is J Hypen Bird and the two names are so similar he thought that I'd go by J-Beard also. Am I ok now? Do I understand? Problem is not only do I *not* understand but I lose my shit!

I tell him that I don't believe him. How can it be that he calls me the wrong name by TEXT? He had to spell it out AFTER I had spelled it out.

He wanted me to explain why I think he would lie to me. What would he gain? He was even willing to show me her picture when the time was right. I had pierced his little, African soul with my distrust. I didn't even know him. Peter Pan assured me that he would never lie to me for any reason. Was I clear now?

All I had for him was, "Yeah, well, it hurts when someone can't get your name right".

He plead his case all night. And I ignored him until the sun came up and he texted me, "Gudmornin JBurn n have a guday at wk".

In my best angry text font I told him that he was just doing it on purpose now, spelling my name wrong. And that it was mean and hurtful. Peter Pan was told not to call or text me anymore. Wednesday was off and I wasn't interested.

Willie asked what's in a name. But the truth is he already knew. Names, love them or hate them, make up who we are at our core. To ignore that is to ignore our greatest self. And there's no way I'm going to let some punk with an accent and a mommy complex do that to me.

*from Romeo and Juliet