It is a rare moment that I'm having now. I have the house to myself, it's quiet. I have some post fodder tumbling in my head and Baloo is napping at my feet. I found another lump today and not sure that I'll do anything about it right now. That last surgery was pretty tough on her and me and she is otherwise happily eating trash off the street and hustling strangers so we'll wait and see. Any moment now my sister will return with a girl from the neighborhood-I don't dislike her but I'm not going out of my way to hang out with her. She's just not interesting. At least she isn't with other women. Women do this thing when they get together sometimes--it just fatigues my soul. They are feeling low about themselves or just reflexively want to compare their desirability with the women they are with and thus engage in excessive preening, hair flipping, cleavage popping, and self-serving storytelling. I literally watched a girl return from the restroom with her bra showing in an attempt to lure men in. I'm guessing that's why she did it, maybe it was just for me. Then they start telling stories about the men in their lives, fake dilemmas about which hot guy relentlessly pursuing them should they chose, proclamations about men, or their desire to get some action/attention...it's never been my scene and it's tiring to boot. It's tiring for lots of reasons but primarily because most of us would rather be in our sweats snuggled up with a guy we really click with rather than wearing uncomfortable shoes and fronting. I like being out with the girls when we are actually out with each other, interested in each other, and actually talking to each other. Not when we're on the hunt. It's like watching the bad parts of National Geographic; the graphic bits with entrails and blood stained canines and muzzles, growling and asserting dominance over who gets first fruits.

I despair often that it's not going to happen for me, whatever, 'it' is. I possess elementary level flirting skills and not one for packaging the goods for max impact. I'm cerebral, introverted, and have semi-terrible instinct in choosing men to become infatuated with. But I like who I am. I hate not fitting in but I never have-why start now? Maybe my hair flipping cleavage popping colleagues will get everything they want from life and I won't. I actually hope they do because I know in my heart their way isn't nearly as fun as they want it to appear to be. I think that's probably the biggest reason alcohol is required to really give into that method.

As for me, this is how I roll. The excerpts below are my correspondence with a guy who wrote me a whiny e-mail asking me what women want.

Dude: While I've got you. Maybe you could provide some perspective....being a woman and all. WHAT THE HELL DO WOMEN WANT? I don't get it. They want a man who's dark and mysterious, but open with his emotions; Someone who's tall, yet down to Earth; Someone who's young, but well traveled; Someone who likes who they are, but isn't afraid of change; Someone who will instantly be there to light their cigarette, but has his own life!!!... Any insight would be most appreciated. My sister says to just be myself...Ha. After all these years she doesn't think that I know better than to take advice from her.
So how are things on your end of the dating spectrum. Brighter I hope.

Ava: Well besides guys whose name rhymes with _____ writing a very single me for relationship advice on a dating website, things are good. I keed, I keed...

Women want the same thing men do but seem more willing to settle for regular sex with someone they don't really like talking to or hanging out with.

Segue to my love is a lottery philosophy

Dude: Hey, your answer got a little too involved and wordy. I wasn't actually expecting such an informative answer. If I really cared what a woman wanted I would ask her, and then possibly listen to what she says. Possibly! But thanks for caring.

Ava: Love it. My "answer was a little too involved and wordy." That's how I roll my friend. I give awesome advice. You'd be wise to take it.

I want you to meet my gf too!

Well, that answers that question. It wasn't exactly a surprise but as long as I didn't know, I could hope differently. Maybe it's just me but there is always a man in my life, even if I'm not in his. Since circa 2008 IBC has been it. My go-to dream guy. I'll be in his neck of the woods later this week and let him know this afternoon. He was excited and then blurted out the title of this post. Awesome. Like this kind of awesome:



So yea, not really awesome. If she's black, I swear I'll run head-first full speed into the nearest wall. Not because she's black but because I let that bother me about myself as one of the countless ways we didn't make sense. The silly thing about this angst and careful outfit selection is we never dated. Being disappointed about IBC is like being disappointed that Bradley Cooper isn't single. One of them isn't even aware I'm on the planet and the other hangs out with actresses and has made a string of regrettable movies.

So sometime this week, I'll probably get to meet IBC's girlfriend. It's going to super-awesome for sure. I need to get my eyebrows done and I could use a haircut but I'm not sure I should waste my best stuff on a guy who has been dating someone for over a year. Not sure I should look fabulous for this meeting either as one of the people I'm meeting with sent me a text message 'sleep well' after I confirmed meeting arrangements and thanked them for their time. I've never said that to a co-worker before. Have a good night? Totally. Sleep well? Not so much. A little intimate but maybe I'm sensitive. Before that, they mentioned they enjoyed dinner with me. Married with kids so I'm going to assume for now we just have different communication styles and they are a naturally warm person who wants to convey their warm wishes for my restful slumber. Eh, who knows? More importantly, who cares? Even I know this is The Pledge. By the way, if you haven't seen this movie, you are missing out. Rent it. Now.

Starlight

Finally a break from the oppressive heat came this evening. Beautiful weather feels so personal. Like God REALLY likes me and delights in my delight with the cool breeze and the soul lifting sunset. While the clouds were still orange and the sky still mostly blue, I saw that first star, the one I used to wait for before going in when I was a kid so I could say 'Starlight, star bright. The first star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.' I have no idea where I even learned that but tonight I looked at that first star, stared at it to make sure it wasn't a plane and then went for it and wished on it again like I was 11. I wasn't feeling particularly mournful or alone but it just seemed like it was a good night to wish for good things.

I don't know if this is part of what happens to a woman's body and mind in her 30's but I've again become consumed with the potential gravity of seemingly inconsequential decisions. I know most of the pivots on which my life has turned revolved around what seemed at the time to be innocuous decisions. It doesn't seem fair does it? We (read: I) wring our hands about this thing or that thing and then do something on a lark like visit the dog shelter and end up with a gangster black lab instead of a beagle named Doozer, which had been my 'plan'. I even already had a name tag for Doozer. And that is what is doing my head in right now. I know how this works for me-perhaps for everyone. If there's a guy for me out there, it's not going to come at me properly, eyes across the room, instant chemistry, blah, blah. It is going to be random and I'm not going to think a darn thing of it. Problem is believing this is taking all the fun out of it. I'm annoying myself.

Moving on...my sister. Well it looks like she may have a job. I have already done the math and told her what her rent ranges are based on her hourly wage. My house is cleaner than it has been in months and I finally framed these awesome photos I bought a month ago. I actually went to the gym on my own (trainer is out of town), and though I should be sleeping, I'm at least in the bed. And you know why? Because I'm trying to balance this house. Her chaos drives me to seek order. When she leaves, I will still have cleaning frenzies but not as often. I think I've cleaned the shower more since she's moved in than I had the entire 18 months prior. I have no idea what she does in there but holy crap that thing gets nasty fast. So she's painful, I did have to remind her about our 'no unclothed asses' rule, she's broken my bed, is trying to renegotiate the booty shorts deal (I have since hidden them), and is still answering craigslist personal ads, but alas there is good in this too. My room smells fantastic.

We don't need good TV

My sister will watch ANYTHING, even if it's not in English. I came home Friday evening to find her focused intently on a German program that I gathered from context clues to be a story about a swimsuit designer, followed by a sketch of some sort. Every now and then she would laugh and I wanted to look at the cameraman who should have been there with the classic mockumentary stare that says 'WTF.'

I'm psychically constipated. I am always thinking and rarely writing. I have not been to the gym this week. My trainer is on vacation but left me workouts to do and I've let Monday and Tuesday go like you can procrastinate and cram workouts like a big sweaty term paper. I had a paper plate of popcorn and potato chips for dinner. My sister will be well over 400lbs if her eating habits carry on into her 30's when her metabolism turns against her. Her denial is strong, firmly rooted, and watered daily. She clucks her tongue at my training regimen commenting with authority about how I should not do a 30 minute workout devoted primarily to any one area of my body. Her comments regularly leave me speechless. She has an interview this Friday (thank God) and I said we should practice. She said she thought it was a dumb idea and she's never had a bad interview. She's done 3 interviews in her entire life; a local music store, IKEA, and Blockbuster. All retail and she's interviewing for a clerical position at a hospital. What do you do with that? I mention sending a thank you note after the interview. 'That's a stupid idea. I'll thank her if she gives me a job. You can pay me to send you a thank you note.' I suggested taking extra copies of her resume. 'The lady was reading from my resume on the phone. She already has a copy.' This is why readers, if I have children (God help us both) my motto will be, beat early, beat often. Some people are determined losers and I'm beginning to think my sister may be one of those people. I love her, I even sometimes enjoy her company but she can be such a fucking loser and a crappy roommate to boot.

Two men with whom there is no future are treading water in my life. I can not be disagreeable enough for either and I have to admit there is a trick to that because I'm interested in them continuing to want me. Why? Because it reminds me that when a guy is interested in me (for whatever reason), he will let me know. I won't be writing 'he loves me, he loves me not' posts, I'll be considering whether I'm interested and enjoying the right of first refusal.

Promote

You can find my brother's designs here.

So there's this guy

I understand I'm under the influence right now on account of hormones but I am still completely smitten by a guy I've never met. I never ever spoken to him, virtually or otherwise. His awareness of me in his universe consists of my profile of which he may have only browsed the pictures before moving on. But I'm a little taken with him. Though he admittedly dresses like a hipster doofus, I feel I would willingly and proudly walk down the street with him in his skinny jeans, obnoxious and often unnecessary knitted hats and scarves, and red retro sneakers. I dig this dude and feel like if I'm digging him this hard, how can he not feel the universe tugging his sleeve to take a second look at me.

But it's not bugging him or tugging at him. It's sending him onward toward whatever he thinks he wants. And a mere 45 minutes after gushing about him, I have moved on as well.

We can't force these things, right?

I have written a handsome doctor who seems to live life to the nth degree--and may I just digress a bit on all these adventurous, rock climbing, scuba diving, globetrotting guys? What the hell damn guy? I already feel like I'm wasting God's time with how I use my daylight, especially when I read something about some 30 something in the paper who just reinvented velcro or post-it notes. Now while I'm dealing with everything thing else a dating site brings, rejection, rejection, unwanted solicitation, occasional penis pictures, more rejection, I feel like poop because while I have laundry and a real earnest clean of the baseboards on deck for my weekend, you're going to hike, fish, camp, spelunk, create, cook, sail and still have time for the gym and hanging out with your nieces and nephews or something equally incredulous. On one hand, I find it hard to believe these handsome guys could actually be single if they are so awesome but staying that active probably doesn't leave a lot of time for actually meeting people. I don't know.

Where is this going

I don't know but I thought I'd ask the question to see if any of you knew. My stomach hurts because I walked in the door and proceeded to attack a bag of cookies almost exactly like cookie monster does. There is a pile of chunky cookie debris on my table because I don't actually like the cookies, I like the huge milk chocolate chips. Then I ate some broccoli and thai noodle salad. I'm sure that cancelled out the chocolate, right?

I don't want to go outside because it's sticky but more importantly, nothing good happens out there. If I run into my cute neighbor with his puppy, it will inevitably want to socialize with Baloo and Baloo will inevitably try to fight it. Then I will try to say something clever and apologetic about Baloo's poor social skills and then I will walk away. The best thing that will happen out there is Baloo will poop. That and I won't have to listen to my sister spit repeatedly in the sink. It's starting to make me nauseous. She's easily spit at least 10 times (now 20). I don't even want to know why. It concerns me that she doesn't have a lick of insurance. Why again did I agree to this? I am fucking insane.

I'm guessing she caught whatever crud she's got from Hamid. Hamid is a random dude she met on craigslist--the place I suggested she look for jobs and potential apartments, not strangers to hook up with. I came home one afternoon last week to learn she had spent the day with Hamid at his apartment in north Killadelphia. I was beside myself. Everything this girl didn't do in high school she's trying out now. I feel a family conflict coming on because I'm feeling very committed to my 8 week limit on this living arrangement right now. I'm just not the person who can watch a person do so many things clearly detrimental to their physical, mental, and spiritual health and not have a problem with it. I want to ostrich this problem. I want her to go away so I can pretend she's doing better than she actually is. I want to ostrich life right now. I have ridiculous hair, terrible opposite sex social skills, and assets I don't know how to use. I have time I don't use well, I have pretty nice legs that I never really show, I have money I'm not investing with any plan...the list goes on. All well within the realm of things I should be able to change. What commands my attention however, is walking the dog and then sprinting home to decon the bathroom from the spit fest I just heard. I hate/hate/hate sharing a bathroom. The way she is with things often makes me want to give up on everything grooming and housekeeping related. Eh, I know I've got a lot on my mind but I also believe I'm being assaulted by chemistry as well. We would not have lasted as a race if men had periods.

Apologize for the random and pouty post. I know I've got something good in here somewhere, it just hasn't made its way to my head yet.