What I've been up to

I am eating a bowl of cereal for dinner, but not just any cereal, I'm eating 7 whole grains on a mission to make it impossible for me not to fart in public. The fiber in this cereal is almost criminal. And if it weren't so darn good, I wouldn't be eating it for the second time today. I discovered this cereal (Kashi Go Lean Crunch!) last week and have been having a regrettable love affair with it since. I'm not going to resist, I will eventually move on to something else like brownie batter or potato chips. This food obsession is at least in theory healthy.

When I haven't been performing fart and evade maneuvers I have vacillated between anxious/stressed and depressed states. Even though she is lately spending most of her time in 'her' room, it is still psychically oppressive for her to just always be here. She is never not here. And the rare occasions she isn't here, I am usually concerned or suspicious of where she is. I can't win. I daydream of the next place I will live, alone. Where I can have phone conversations that are private, room for friends to visit, not having to think about whether I will come home from my walk to a feast of leopard print, lace-trimmed panties standing in the kitchen making food. I look forward to being the only one to undo any state of cleanliness I achieve.

I feel bad about this whole 'thing' such that it is. When I convinced myself that it was the right thing to do to extend this offer, when I didn't completely flip my shit over the series of low-class disrespectful stunts, it was perhaps for that sister I had when I left home after college. Who was messy but at her core a sweet and kind girl who cared; about doing the right thing and about my feelings. Doubts have surfaced through the years; her deception is the worst kind, projecting an entire false persona that leaves us all wondering who she is really. But I shelve all that because I can't think that of her and not want to lash out at her daily. To put her out, to punch her out, to shake her until the falseness separates like molting snake skin. She is wasting my time. That is what is pissing me off today. Six weeks come six months of lukewarm showers, fucking hair everywhere, juice stains on my rugs, destroyed furniture, dope, disrespect, shit box room. I am tired of seeing her schlepping back and forth, rising at 6 pm on the weekends to take a shower and fix a little something while I am out walking the dog. I am 360 degrees of tired. I am tired at work, I spend 20 minutes at a time in the bathroom during the day just having time to myself. This unhappiness is draining my will to do the very things I need to do to stay healthy in my head and in my heart. Today I haven't showered, haven't even brushed my teeth. Why should I? Save walking the dog and taking out the trash, I haven't been outside. I don't want to hang out, I cherish my time alone like it has actual monetary value. She's watching something on her laptop right now and it still bothers me because her giggles randomly punch into my quiet. My back hurts, there is a line of chewed blistered flesh inside my cheeks from clenching, I wake with headaches, I retreat with headaches. I wore a mouth guard last night and tried to relax, to not sleep balled and clenched. I woke up at 5 am with a headache.

I don't know where to pull from to push through this. I barely have enough to get into work, to walk my dog, to groom and bathe. On days like today, I fall short and manage only to walk the dog. On Thursday night after the power came back on (yea, power outage , why not), I booked a flight to Denver. I tried to go last year but it didn't work out and I had to re-book the ticket before mid-March so...I'm going to Denver in a week. I hope it's a much needed shot in the arm, communion with nature, with sunshine, with friends. I will miss my Baloo, often she reminds me of her mortality, but Ashley can at least be trusted to feed and walk her and Baloo can be trusted to harass Ashley until she does. I purposely planned my trip so that Ashley would not have the house to herself on Friday or Saturday to reduce the likelihood of shenanigans. When did I become a single parent?

So that's what I've been up to. There are other things to cover, heavy things like parents and illness and wondering how long they will suffer and how I can ever deal with a world without them in it even if it IS the natural order of things. Those things can wait though and certainly there is enough here already to make a person's shoes heavy. To end on a lighter but still tragic note, among the potential outcomes for this summer is a job I don't really want-that no one really wants-but that apparently wants me. A friend remarked it was nice to be wanted. I replied it really wasn't, it was nice like an ugly guy like liking you is nice; flattering but disappointing.

Dear Sisyphus

As I emptied the dryer and filled the washer, I considered the day and what had been done with it and suddenly your boulder wasn't punishment, it was an object lesson. This is life, carrying burdens towards a goal, steps lighter, hope growing as you reach the summit and then it begins anew. Even if our boulders don't roll away from us a hair from the summit, we still have to come down and start all over. I know this about life. I know there is always something that needs to be done. Another boulder, the same boulder, it doesn't matter. I just want to hang out at the bottom of this hill for a bit and forget I am surrounded by boulders. That might be the biggest Sisyphean task of all.

Short note

Dear Skinny,

Stop hiding your clothes in this rack. None of my people ever put our clothes in your rack. Yours is a double insult. I have no idea if that Calvin Klein shirtdress would have looked good on me in my size but you have hit me coming (size 2? Dammit) and going (why doesn't anything I want ever come in my size?) trying to make sure your skinny enemies don't get it. I will find you and I will call you fat just because it will really mess with your head.

It is done

Via e-mail. He replied promptly (one of the things I liked about him). I'm a little sad but I shouldn't be. In the end I got answers to my questions about who we were to one another and it turns out we were on the same page all along. I was tempted to say okay then, let's get on with it, treading water, having company while we wait for something more ideal but I am not good at being that girl. And he wasn't good enough at anything else to make it worth my while. For the time we were together though, it was working out for him and a part of me is pleased he was at least happy with things the way they were. At least someone was getting what they wanted.

He told me I think too much which I'm done being apologetic for. I actually prefer not to think when I'm in a relationship. It's awesome when you don't wonder, when you can just enjoy him when he's there and not question when he's not. I only think when it's not clear.

So it's done. No more WBB. I told him when he's done being irritated he is welcome to stay in touch. I do like him. I wouldn't have dated him otherwise. I won't be holding my breath waiting to hear from him but I think I will be offline for the foreseeable future. I'm leaving Philly, my sister is a terrible and inconsiderate roommate, and going back to the site we met is like running into each other at the bar over and over and over again, seeing each other, wondering what the other is up to, if they are meeting someone, getting jealous only because they seem to be getting back in the game before you do..etc. Too much for right now.

I did the right thing.

A bird in hand aka sympathy for the devil

As I have been figuring out how to end things with WBB and reconvincing myself that things do need to end I have been struggling with what I'm dubbing the bird in hand syndrome. In the process I have been developing a greater sympathy with the women who chose to continue being with men who aren't right for them simply because they are there and by 'there' I mean they want your sex. Don't get me wrong, I still judge them and harshly at that (and I know that's not cool but I'm being honest). I'm convinced a significant percentage of the motivation in women who consistently choose hooking up over relationships is in being able to make other girls jealous with their desirability. Empty calories.

I judge myself just as harshly for not bailing earlier, for humoring this to the point it is messy to extricate from. For trading what I want in exchange for being wanted, even if it's just physically. There is a whittling down of the esteem in that exchange, there is erosion of expectation for real relationships, there is loneliness even as his arm is draped over you while you listen to him snore next to you. And still, I'm a little sad. Sad because I don't want to hurt his feelings, sad because I won't have anyone once I let him go, sad that what IS attractive about him can't be eclipsed by what doesn't work between us. Sad because he might just be the last guy I date for several years because so few guys get this far and my trend line isn't promising. This is the longest I've dated a guy in a decade. That sentence makes me despondent. I'm not sure what I learned in all this. I'm inclined to say the lesson is trust my gut and ignore my girlfriends who encourage me to keep an open mind. That can't be good, right? To stay with him though is to keep eating (unsatisfying) drive through because I'm not sure if there's a sit down meal in my future. Guess I'm choosing hunger. That sucks. Wish I could just enjoy a terrible greasy burger and make yummy noises so everyone could wish they had what I had.

No one actually has the life we envy. No one.

The one you're with

WBB came by last night. Why I continue with this guy is beyond me. I'm annoyed before I see him and even more annoyed when he leaves. My guess is he knows how to chose a woman who usually stays committed to something long after she's determined she doesn't get what she wants or needs from it. Enter yours truly. I wish sometimes I didn't like men. He came over because I asked him if he was still on the dating site we met through. He refused to answer the question over the phone or e-mail because he didn't like having certain discussions over those mediums. When he got to the house, he was weird and combative and called my question bullshit but ultimately admitted he is still online. I honestly don't care one way or another. Nothing about our time together suggests forever, I just wanted to be sure we were on the same page. Funny thing though, he didn't want me to tell him what I was up to because he's a self-admited jealous person. He acknowledged it was hypocritical but it was just the way he was. Then he wanted to chill out and talk about nothing, the Denver Nuggets (wtf do I care about a basketball team), about our days, about my workout goals (he's a certified personal trainer who nevertheless drinks juice like it's going out of style). He talked about working out together but I wasn't sure if he wanted to spend more time with me or see if he could get a deal through me for the gym.

Awake long before dawn, I have been thinking about me and WBB and what it means to continue dating him. There is a part of me that wants to think of him as a swiss army knife, considering him only for his utility, ignoring what is annoying or potentially harmful about him. At my core, I think I like a challenge. There is a part of me that wants to break him down, get past his abrasiveness and get to the soft gooey center, if there is one. I am curious about his capacity to be considerate. I am curious why he talks to me when he doesn't seem to like me. I can't figure him out and the investigator in me wants to keep pulling that thread even though my common sense tells me this is unlikely to have a good surprise twist. I am cautious and wary because convention holds that this is the honeymoon, this is our best foot forward usually. If this is WBB's best foot forward, it is a deformed and twisted club foot with a touch of gangrene. And what he brings out in me isn't great either.

I've been considering the 'have fun' position, just hang out because it feels good to have someone want you enough to stand your company but just reading this sentence suggests that course of action is not good for the ol mental health or self esteem. What do I stand to gain by accepting someone who doesn't use please and thank you, who has no problem asking me for things or being dismissive of my feelings or questions? I don't want to get used to accepting less. I don't need (or want) a prince on a white horse but I do want someone who doesn't fight me when I ask them if they are seeing anyone else and IS curious about my dating/sexual history and just curious about me in general. I do want someone who is nice to me. Not in a syrupy saccharine way but in a genuine considerate way.

Ashley has been a bit of a punk in all this but I got a sense last night that she really doesn't like the way he talks to me. Asking me to put away his soda is not a big deal but he's always asking me to do little things that I just find strange. It's more the way he asks than the actual request. Like he wants me to serve him. I get a sense he doesn't really like me or doesn't really like women in general. He is arrogant/narcissistic for no apparent reason. If he were just a set of stats on a roster, he would be playing with the company coed team, not courting scouts and trying to figure out if he should go pro or take that scholarship. Maybe I'm waaaaay off but something isn't adding up. Maybe it's just the combination of me and him. Seems to be a when, not if situation. Stay tuned.

Sunday

WBB likes me more than he likes juice. He said if he had to choose between me and juice, he was willing to go thirsty for a while. This is big news because WBB really likes juice. He likes juice like Ashley likes juice and Ashley gasped like someone had dropped a baby on its head the last time she discovered we were out of juice. Being a girl, naturally I mentioned Valentines day but being me, I mentioned only that I wasn't interested in celebrating it. I really don't care for flowers and candy and lady gifts of that sort for any occasion. I knew I had turned the corner with the last contender when he bought me earrings-the year before he bought me a CD full of parody songs and it was spot-on awesome. I still have the CD. I gave the jade earrings away to a co-worker. I like gifts to be personal if they are given at all. I would rather have your time and no tangible gift than a box of chocolates to check a box. If WWB comes with flowers in hand today, I will be delighted. If we are dating this time next year and he comes with flowers in hand for Valentines, I'll be disappointed. He'd get far more mileage out of a heartfelt sticky note.

So my challenge today with WBB is to try to stay in the moment. He asks me every time we are together what I'm thinking and I always tell him nothing. I'm guessing he can tell I'm not wholly present. I also think I better understand why that question is irritating. The moment he asks me, my mind goes blank. The only thing I'm thinking is why does he wonder what I'm thinking.

But here's what I'm thinking WBB. I'm wishing that your touch was electric, that even holding my hand made me melt. It's not just physical attraction, it's feeling that someone touches you with affection. All that stuff people say about sex being part of a loving committed relationship, maybe that's just for girls but I can feel the difference and it makes me kind of sad. You're perfectly ok WBB and I think the feeling is mutual so until something better comes along or I leave Philly, whichever comes first, I guess I'll talk to you tomorrow.

Happy Valentines Day.