If

'If' is a funny word. All conditional words (maybe, if, perhaps) when used to convey intention without action are. Like all that is keeping me on the other side of the thing I might do is an external circumstance. It's totally appropriate in the sentence, 'if my ankle was not broken, I would walk without a cast' but not appropriate in this sentence, 'if my ankle was not broken, I would have run that marathon,' like all that was holding me back from a marathon was the unfortunate broken ankle thing. In real life, I've never really wanted to run at all, much less a marathon. Running a marathon would go on a bucket list of things that don't matter to me but are much ballyhooed by others, but not a real thing I want to do before I die.

But I do want to write a book. Or something more than this. I don't even know what it is but I want it. I want my voice in book binding. In something that is one of something, not just sad soup and the occasional funny story on the interweb. I've been using 'if' and 'when' as a stall, like something other than me is responsible for working through the process of creating this thing without knowing what it is, how long it will take, or even really why I want it. I see through 'if' and 'when' when I hear others use it the way I've been using it on myself. If/When I have time, I'll work out, When I have time, I'll take care of myself, If he/she did 'x', I would do 'y'. The truth is, I have time to write. Time is finite and I do have obligations but I don't think I'll be getting a blank check of unlimited minutes for life anytime soon. My father, finally retired talks about all these things he would do but still there isn't enough time. It's not really all about the time. It never has been. It's a good reason, a significant variable, but it's not the real obstacle or reason why so many dreams wait. Often it is fear that something that really matters (to you) might not work out; that there is a devastating shoe waiting to drop. Sometimes it's a trade; security for uncertainty, daydreaming for reality, ignorance instead of disillusionment (for the record, it is not a bad thing to lose your illusions, to trade mythology for fact). For me, it is all of those things and the challenge of Newton's first law.* I do rest real well and my momentum is easily sidetracked.

But I do want to write a book. This morning I started composing the acknowledgements page of my book in my head, thinking of all the people I would thank, scripting the prose in my head, amused with myself that I was creating an acknowledgements page in my head for a book that doesn't exist. Oh well, have to start somewhere right? Happy Thanksgiving all (three of you)!


*Object that is at rest will stay at rest unless an unbalanced force acts upon it. An object that is in motion will not change its velocity unless an unbalanced force acts upon it

I know you're there God, please stop screening my calls

I knew the storm was coming. I knew the disgust and adrenaline of Wednesday night would wear off and then I would just be in a funky mood. And so it has been this weekend. I know this will pass but right now I want to be mad and sad at the Universe, at God, at cheating men, and the energy it takes to tuck my hope back away somewhere in my head that it doesn't bother me everyday. I am happy alone and I don't care to be jerked around with the alternative which in the beginning is ridiculously intoxicating. That is not a good feeling. I was lacking nothing and then my head was spiked with heroin and then left to withdraw. Asshole. I watched this thing on TV last night about a woman who called herself Miranda who formed these very close relationships with celebrities on the phone. She would cold call them and somehow engage them in conversation and it would build from there into a very intimate relationship. She would describe herself as an attractive leggy blond which kept the men's interest but then she truly hooked them in by mining their souls and building a very deep bond with them. One of the men interviewed insisted on meeting her and said something that went through me like a hot iron. He said he hoped she was what he wanted physically because he knew she was everything he ever wanted in every other way. I don't have the prose to sort that out right now but it spoke to me. It was every boy in high school I ever wanted who didn't want me back that way. He would share his dreams and fears with me and give his love to someone else (such that love in high school resembles love at all). He (all of them) just never saw me that way. *Sigh* So that's what we're having today, sad soup.

Random

It's funny to me to have a conversation wherein we both talk about how much we hate people in general and don't like socializing. I guess the 'except with you right now' is implied but it's still a funny conversation to have.

Post-date epilogue 1

Last night was a flurry of text messages and phone calls one of which came from a dear friend of mine who struck the perfect balance of outrage, support, and humor in the dark hilarity of my life right now.  Before my head even got a chance to go there he told me it wasn't my fault and I wasn't a homing beacon for assholes and philanderers.  He has a sensitivity to him that makes him an ideal man girlfriend.       When life is ridiculous, he has often been someone who just makes me giddy with laughter in a ridiculous conversation.  I'm lucky to have a constellation of friends to lean on and I'm lucky to have so many great married men (who until yesterday I just called friends) in my life who haven't asked me out or tried to sleep with me.  Totally took it for granted I guess since I'm not generally a hotly pursued woman by anyone much less a married man and haven't run into the issue before.  But this is a year of firsts so why not this too. Why not indeed.

It was awkward today.  I was initially inclined to avoid the common areas for fear of running into him but then I reminded myself I had done nothing wrong and I didn't need to hide.  I rounded a corner and (of course) ran into him, said hi and kept moving.  He followed me into the breakroom.  I couldn't believe it.  I did not speak to him and avoided even looking in his direction.  The last thing he said to me before we parted ways last night was that he would ask me to coffee again and I told him he could do what he wanted, my answer would be no.  As time passes and I process this event, I get increasingly agitated with having to use my energy to nut up and get sub-par coffee from our shitty breakroom because this asshole won't accept no for an answer.  As a general rule, I don't like to waste time being angry with people who don't matter to me because it's an emotional investment they don't deserve.  But if he is going to insist on remaining in my field of vision, he might find himself caught up in a perfect storm on a day when the nuclear option is on the table and I feel invested in fucking his shit up.

It's easy and not incorrect to see this cheating mofo as violating the sanctity of his marriage.  He's masquerading as a single man and in pursuit of single women.  But I think it's probably more common for infidelity to occur between people who know each other; ex-boyfriends/girlfriends, co-workers, friends within your couples network...  Further I don't think any relationship is fully immune to the threat of infidelity.  Not because of some bullshit evolutionary theory on how men aren't built to be monogamous but because relationships are hard and it's near impossible to get everything you wish for in a life partner packaged in one person.  And we do take relationships for granted once we are in them, forgetting how hard it is to find someone you can live with that has enough intersections on values, goals, attraction, and temperament to make a go of it.  Hell, it's hard to have a roommate, much less someone you sleep with every night.

Not unlike the stock market, you can be in a relationship recession for a good spell and things are real tight and almost totally devoid of the starry-eyed fun that got you hooked.  For years.  Riding the volatility of the market is not easy and if you take the short view, it's almost impossible not to take your money and run.  Based on what I've observed of my parent's marriage and other marriages, those playing the long game are fairly matter-of-fact about their commitment to one another, not really mentioning words like 'happy' or 'fun' like their commitment to one another is terribly vulnerable to how either one of them feels on a particular day.  We're married for life, the end*.   That's not to say everyone makes good decisions on who to spend their lives with and many, many people could stand to cut their losses or just go the scarf knitting/cat collection route (as I plan to).  I think marriage is a commitment but it's not jail so if you are unfulfilled enough or unhappy enough to actively pursue other people, nut up and cut bait or shut up and get to working on your marriage.

*I am assuming these are marriages without extraordinary circumstances (i.e. physical/emotional/sexual/drug abuse...etc)

(Shit) Bucket List

What a relief.  Now I can cross going on a date with a married man off my list.  What a night.  I suppose I could have jumped up and walked off after he told me but that's not me.  I can take a punch like a pro.  It's only later that I get introspective and fucked up in the head over it, wondering what the hell is wrong with me that I'm the magnetic north of douchebags. (btw, I just spent five minutes figuring out if I spelled douchebags correctly).  If he hadn't been married, it would have been right up there in the top 2 of the 3 dates I've been on in my life.  It was surreal.  I would be dishonest if I didn't admit a part of me enjoyed denying him and having a very calm, cordial matter-of-fact discussion about how I really was never going to go out with him again. The man expected a fucking ribbon for being honest on our first date.  I told him I would have preferred he not ask me out at all.  How does he think admitting you are an asshole who cheats on his wife is a redeeming quality?  "Hey, I told you I was married instead of lying to you so...can we go out again?"  A part of me wants to be offended for being picked as someone presumably stupid enough to reward his honesty with continued contact.  But whatever.  My suspicions of something being amiss were validated and that's not bad either.  I don't hate men, I'm resisting hating them anyway.  I'm just fucking over them right now.

Just a little bit racist

The guy who asked me to coffee is Arab--or possibly Persian--he's taking Arabic (different dialect than what he speaks) but the point is he's not from around here.  Or maybe he is.  With the exception of the Native Americans, I guess we're all not from around here.  I started thinking in the space between the invitation and when we actually plan to have this coffee and that is never a good thing.  This is why I hate making plans; space for things to change, time to create expectations that will be dashed, time to become increasingly spastic.  I'm not nervous really but I just wonder what his story his and why he just asked me to coffee like that.  It was so matter of fact the way he asked me, I wonder if it might be something other than what it appears to be.  I mean who does that anymore?  Just asks a girl out for coffee in a public place like a perfect gentleman?  I've only ever seen it like that in a movie.  Weirdo.

I (naturally) considered that he might be interested in me and then I wondered all sorts of ignorant things; does he already have a family overseas and looking for another wife? will he find my dress offensive?  will he consider my liberal use of curse words when driving (or whenever) disgusting?  is he a part of a sleeper cell?  would he have a sense of humor about that last question?  am I going to have to be on the DL about Jesus and stuff?  Yes, I know he asked me to coffee but I just don't understand why.  I've seen him maybe two times and before Monday, the most I had talked to him was in the elevator when he asked if there was parking in the building.  45 seconds tops.  Weird, weird, weird.  Guys are weird.

I'm really showing my (racist, ignorant) ass here reader(s) and I know it.  I thought back to a conversation I had with a guy in college who didn't believe in interracial dating and I remembered how disgusted I was with his nonsense rhetoric yet here I am before even sitting down to have a conversation with this guy being a complete idiot.  I thought I was open minded to the point of actively seeking someone different but turns out, it's way easier when you don't have to bridge a cultural gap.  It's also way easier when you don't get 2 days to think about something.  To his credit, he was on point today waiting around for me so he could confirm a day for us to get coffee.  I was willing to leave it up to chance but he was having none of that.  It was cute.  He seemed a little nervous.  Tomorrow I hope to get a sense of who he is and whether there will be anything beyond coffee followed by a couple of weeks of awkwardness in the breakroom after he bails or I bail.

When I wasn't being just a little bit racist, I thought about his kind eyes and wondered if it was possible this could be completely lovely.  Then I freaked out some more because I wasn't sure if the made up relationship in my head was worth the freedom I would be ceding to it.  Yea, he would do well to not get tangled up in this mess but he is also presumably single so wonder what his deal is.  Does he think I'm a rap video girl? Is he just looking for a girl with good birthing hips?  Is he just a player? Is he an idiot like me?  More to come....wish us luck. Or just wish him luck.

I come by it honestly

I was asked out to coffee by a fellow language student today.  It was nice to be asked out by someone who wasn't homeless, driving, operating, or otherwise affiliated with public transportation, or on street sweeping detail.  It was nicely executed and seemingly spontaneous but unmistakably about expressing interest in seeing me somewhere other than the break room.  During our brief chat we talked about the challenge of getting a good picture of the moon and I mentioned I had been out over the weekend trying to do just that and he said 'you'll have to show me those pictures.'  I understand now, thanks to Ashley that I should NOT bring my pictures in.  He is not actually interested in my shitty amateur night time photography of leaves and bright white spots that I wish looked more like a moon and less like a headlight.  But before I talked to her I was actually working out in my head whether I would print one out or just bring my camera in.  I had already said in jest I would bring them in and he could pretend to be interested in them but I still actually had a genuine interest in discussing my unremarkable photography.  Silly girl.  Not long after that conversation, I got an e-mail from my dad with pictures of their backyard.  The sun was breaking through the trees in a beautiful starburst and I recognized I come by my tree photography obsession honestly.  Yes, an apple-tree reference occurs to me but I'm trying to show some restraint.

In other un-related news, my instructor showed me her bra today.  Like really showed me her bra and gave me a description of the matching underwear in lieu of a showing.  In the classroom.  I'm close to tapping out on being incredulous when it comes to her wildly unpredictable nature but this just seems worth mentioning.  I'll chalk it up to a heady combination of personality, culture, and her apparent lack of girlfriends to share that kind of stuff with.  Sometimes I wonder if she's trying to see if I am gay or bi-curious or something.  It's just weird.   I'm thinking they have some pretty classic gender roles there and being Liz Lemon-esque (cerebral and not overtly sexual) means you probably like girls in their culture.  I don't know.  Guess I'll find out when I get there if it's just her or if all the women there will be strangely inappropriate.  Should be fun for all.