AfterWorld

April 15 was the last time I wrote here. Let's call that "Before."

Before, I was me. A 37-year old woman with a live-in boyfriend she wished would propose already, a dog that made us a family, a mom who's intensely watching while my maternal clock winds down, an ex-fiancee who just got married, too many married friends with kids, and a few treasured single ones who are still free on the weekends.

I also had a budding writing career, preparing to turn this blog into a memoir and, as I hinted at back in February, a new opportunity that seemed too good to be true (it was and it wasn't).

April 16 was when "After" began. It started out as a crappy day already, having received an email from Only Child (the ex that just got married), who was not happy about my recent blog post about his nuptials. I knew he read the blog, but he always said I could write whatever I wanted and it never bothered him before. But in hindsight, I admit I was just feeling hurt and regret writing it.

After emailing Only Child with a guilt-ridden apology, I went out to a long-awaited dinner with Wine Guy and two friends in San Diego's version of Chinatown- my favorite place to eat. We ordered far too much food and began chatting in happy anticipation for the feast that awaited us.

Then the phone rang. It was my brother Pat-Hole and I ignored it. Two minutes later he called again. And I knew.I quietly excused myself to take the call outside, a deafening pounding in my ears. My friends kept talking, oblivious.

When I answered I heard Pat-Hole authoritatively state my name - but then nothing. "What happened?" I asked, trying not to sound too hysterical. He made some noises, maybe said a few words, but nothing came together.

"Just tell me! Oh my God what happened?!"

It was my sister. And my 7-year old nephew. On their way to my mom's house for another nephew's 20th birthday gathering. A one-car accident on a rural highway. They're gone.

This was the same day my sister had put her beloved 14-year old Labrador to sleep and she was devastated. My brother insisted she drive up for the party. Family would make her feel better.

I somehow ended up back at the table and when I sat down, my friends looked at me like I was an alien. I was. This is "After." I'm not me anymore.

It's been 3 1/2 months and I'm only now starting to experience brief flashes of what "Before" might have felt like. But it'll never be the same. I never would've guessed that I'd miss Before once it was gone. It always felt like something I was trying to escape, like something better was supposed to come After. But it's not better here.

The freelance gig I landed at the local daily newspaper has become a regular thing and I just recently started to enjoy it again. Between that and my day job, I'm often too busy to indulge in self-pity, and I am thankful for that. And the extra money goes right in to the new house down payment fund. I give myself a pat on the back with every deposit.

In between the grief, the writing, and the desperate attempts to fall and stay asleep, I've also had more disappointing setbacks with my hip. Since my surgery in March 2009, I've experienced complications that have worsened to a point that even my normally overly optimistic surgeon was sympathizing with me. It's eventually fixable, but I have to wait it out- indefinitely. The pain is chronic, often intense and entirely exhausting. I've got a medicine cabinet full of painkillers that have my pill-popping friends drooling. But trust me, they're no fun when you really need them.

Wine Guy has stuck with me through it all. Remind me that I said this when I complain about it later, but...Fuck marriage. This guy is already my "husband" 100 times over. Better, he's my family. Things aren't perfect, but he is here and loving me as best as he can (and I'm trying to return the favor).

So you can understand why I haven't written. I feel guilty for even burdening you with this now. I shared what's been going on with a kindly co-worker last week and she burst into tears. (Better than another another friend who unwisely launched into a "Wow, that makes me really grateful for what I have in my life" speech.)

But this blog, for the most part, is about me. And I don't know how to be anything but honest in everything I do (a strength and, more often, a weakness), so there you have it. For all I know, nobody reads this blog anymore. And that's fine. But after I received a comment from a concerned reader checking in to make sure I was OK (thanks Elizabeth), I wanted to reach out to her and anyone else that might still be dropping by from time to time.

So I'm here to say this:

My world has shifted. My coordinates are off. But I'm still standing.
Right here, in this AfterWorld.

Dismissed.

Only Child +1

Funny. Right about the time I decided to write this post (3 hours ago), Only Child's Facebook status went from "single" to "married." That's technically untrue-- there was a 6-8 month "engaged" period stuck in there-- but, well, we know what that means when we're talking about Only Child.

I knew this was coming of course. Only Child and I talk every six months or so and we're Facebook friends, which is how I learned they were engaged in the first place. When I found out, I immediately emailed him wry congratulations and he called back apologetically, saying he intended to tell me himself, but his fiancee had changed his status without his permission (uh, red flag?).

Perhaps you are wondering why I didn't tell you all about this major news. This is a dating/relationship blog after all, and Only Child has been a big part of my bitching and moaning these last three years (read this for the story of our "faux" engagement).

There are three reasons why I didn't tell you.

1. I didn't want to think about it too much because I was afraid to discover how I might react. I do most of my emotional processing through writing, so if I'm not writing about it here, I'm either avoiding the emotion or I just don't care. (I rarely don't care by the way.)

2. I didn't want my mom to know Only Child was getting married. Her knowing means me hearing her get angry at him all over again, which I can't stand because I don't want to hate him (though many think I should). Her knowing also shines a spotlight on another area I'd prefer to keep darkened-- that Wine Guy still hasn't proposed. My mom doesn't mean any harm. She just wants me to be happy and resents all people and events that get in the way of that. Unfortunately, knowing this doesn't make her reaction any less painful. (And now she knows anyway. Sorry mom, but you promised not to read my blog anymore!).

3. I didn't want to upset Only Child's bride-to-be (let's call her "+1"). See, OC and +1 have been together about five years. I even met her once when they both came to my birthday party a few years ago (during the brief Vain Guy era). Then Only Child made the mistake of telling her about my blog, thinking she would also find it to be a mildly amusing tidbit of information. He admitted he was surprised to learn that she immediately logged on read the entire blog, paying closest attention to all mentions of Only Child. Shows what OC knows about women. Honestly, what woman wouldn't do that? Men--a different story. Neither Only Child or Wine Guy read my blog, though OC might nowadays just to stay one step ahead of any potential +1 meltdowns.

And there were meltdowns, particularly whenever I wrote about how Only Child strung me along for six years, even going so far as to fake propose (hence, "faux engagement") and then let me set a date and buy a dress, cashing in the Israeli bonds my now-deceased grandmother gave me as a little girl to pay for it. I didn't intend to upset +1 (at that point I didn't even know she read my blog), but I suppose my posts were a VERY loud warning signal as she watched another year of her relationship with OC pass by without a ring. They even broke up for a time because he couldn't say that he would definitely marry her. Been there, girl.

When OC told me about this, I wanted so badly to vent about it here. But I just couldn't write knowing what havoc it would wreak on both of their lives. Instead, I would see Only Child at our semiannual sushi dinner (his treat, it's the least he can do), and listen to his continued indecision and +1's understandable frustration. All the while feeling like I should get a Gold Star for my lack of chick pettiness.

I always advised him to get married; that it was obvious he was just hoping she would make the decision for him by breaking up (or getting knocked up) and that this was the coward's way out. I told him that he's not the type of guy who's able to let go enough to be swept off his feet. Lots of men aren't. That doesn't mean they shouldn't ever get married. Plus, she sounded like a lovely girl who's pretty, sweet, doesn't get on his case (certainly not as much as I did), and obviously loves him.

I meant it too. I thought he should marry her, which is funny since I'd always told him I would kill myself if he got married before me. I said this because I never in a million years thought that would happen. And because if it did happen, I might fall into the abyss of depression.

See why I haven't wanted to think about it?

Don't worry. I'm nowhere near close to suicidal. I'm not even sure if I'm down about it. I mean, what does it have to do with my life anymore? Only Child and I said we would always be "family" to one another no matter what, but really she's his family now. And talking twice a year does not exactly signify a close relationship. Plus, I decided at the end of last year that I am comfortable with Wine Guy's commitment to me and the lack of a by-the-book marriage proposal doesn't change that.

It wasn't until I sat down to write this post that I realized I wasn't particularly upset. I just thought I was supposed to be- just like I think I'm "supposed to" have an engagement ring to show that I'm loved.

I will admit, their getting married within days of our anniversary that never was (April 8) -- in the same f*#king location (North Shore Kauai) -- stung. But then again, that just shows a lack of imagination--one more reason I'm glad I didn't marry him.

So I guess the real point of this post comes down to one simple thing. Now that they're married, Only Child and +1 are fair game. So +1, if you're reading this, I hope you appreciate the restraint I've shown over the past few years--because now that you've marched OC down that aisle, you are no longer a comrade-in-arms.

I suppose this means that if Wine Guy ever does propose, I'm fair game too. I think I'll choose not to think about that right now.

Dismissed.

Whine Guy

Three years. That's precisely how long Wine Guy was able to keep it from me--even after two years of living together. But this week, almost exactly three years from the night we met, I discovered his terrible secret:

When sick, Wine Guy is quite possibly the biggest asshole on the planet.

Let's give him credit; he's taken incredible care of me after my various surgeries and illnesses, which started only eight months after we met. He's been patient, dutiful, understanding.

So when he finally got sick this week (obviously a rare occurrence), I was eager to return the favor. I made him his favorite lentil soup, listened to his complaints and offered to help with anything he needed. But everything I put out there was met with the whiny hostility of a bratty 5 year-old boy. I had no idea.

I tried many times to let his rudeness roll off my back. At one point (while cooking him dinner), I went downstairs to cool off. While there, I decided the best way to remember that I didn't hate him would be to plan our 3rd anniversary night out at the wine bar/restaurant where we met (dinner's at 7pm tonight!). By the time I'd "invited" him via email, I was back in love -- only to return upstairs and have it start all over again. I mean, come on! It was just a bad cold!

By the time dinner was eaten and the kitchen was cleaned, I'd had enough. I announced that my duties were done and that I was choosing to opt out of his company for the rest of the evening because I didn't appreciate how he was treating me. When he finally realized I was serious, he coughed up an apology but--even days later when his phlegm has started to clear -- he still doesn't see what was so bad about his behavior.

When Wine Guy and I fight, I sometimes get a flash of panic: "Oh my God. He's a jerk. A total asshole. A fake. Just like Naval A-hole, I've been duped again." I call it PTSD of the relationship variety (and well-earned I might add).

But then I turn to my girlfriends and am reassured that he's really just being a typical man -- jerkiness and all. Not having a man around the house growing up, this is still hard for me to wrap my head around. Did all those respectable dads I so admired as a kid act like this? Really?

With a single mom at the head of my household, I saw multitasking and fortitude at its finest (though frazzled). What I didn't see was my mom crawling in to bed and whining, refusing to say what she wanted, and then rejecting what she got when I had to guess at it. She sucked it up and did the best she could. Most women do.

Is this the low standard of behavior we are forced to accept if we want to be in a relationship with a man? Every woman I've asked (happily married, divorced, single) says "Yep, pretty much."

Allow me to say this - I love Whine Guy. But I call Bullshit.

Happy 3rd Anniversary to us!

Dismissed.

Dream Big, My Ass

I guess one of the reasons I'm me is because I do things like this. I don't have New Year's Resolutions. I have a New Year's Motto.

This isn't just a wishy-washy little promise that I have no intention of keeping. No, a Motto represents the foundation upon which all of my choices for the coming year rest. It's a belief system. And, just like any motto, it has to ring perfectly true if I expect anyone - especially me- to follow it.

Some years I can never quite settle on one. So I just don't. Those are usually the years I tried to kid myself into thinking that I will start cooking and eating healthy on a regular basis. Not. Going. To. Happen.

But some years I nail it. Like I did with the very first Motto. That one really changed me.

F.U.N. (Free of Unecessary Negativity)

It was the late 90s, I was in my mid-20s and sharing an apartment with two girlfriends in Brentwood, just down the street from Nicole Brown Simpson's front porch. This was about the time I started realizing that maybe the world wasn't really that terrible. And that maybe, just maybe, I had a serious problem with pessimism. I just wasn't having as much fun as everyone around me seemed to be.

I kind of do things head on, without much room for emotional nuance or game playing. So I announced to my roommates that the coming year (I think it was 1997) was going to be F -- U -- N. Free of Unnecessary Negativity.

This is what that Motto represented to me. It's actually quite simple. When I have an idea to do something (and I often do), I should just stop thinking right there. Shut up, stand up, and go make it happen. Because if I start thinking, I will find every possible way to talk myself out of it. Even an idea as simple as "Go to Universal Studios," something I'd wanted to do since I moved to LA two years earlier but always found a reason not to.

My friends - who clearly did not have issues with pessimism -- were all in.

I have it all chronicled in a photo album called "The Year of F.U.N." Inside it are photos of my first camping trip (Grand Canyon), rollerskating on a weeknight and flirting with the DJ so he'd play all of our favorite 80s songs, theme parties like Beers of the World (we bought a case of O'Douls because we thought it was "Irish beer"), and - you guessed it - Universal Studios.

I admit, I did go back to being slightly lazy once the year was up, but that Motto was a huge shift for me. And why I'm doing what I am today. Which is the whole reason I got on here to write this post. So here goes.

Late last year I took a class on writing a non-fiction book proposal. I'd always wanted to adapt this blog (or what the blog was supposed to be if Wine Guy hadn't ruined everything so soon) into a book. After a few weeks of bouncing the idea around with my classmates and getting encouraging feedback from the instructor, I thought, "Hey, I could actually do this."

The more I thought about it, the more reasons I came up with for why I know I could make this happen. People I know. Skills I have (like writing - duh- and working in media and marketing). A lot of free time which, if I were to have a baby like I hope, would vanish. I could be a writer. Well, a paid one anyway.

That's when I thought up what would be the first draft of my motto for 2010.

Dream Big

People sell their book ideas every day. Some actually get read. And some people actually become full-time, professional writers. Why can't that person be me?

But I still wasn't sold on the Motto. Something was missing. After a few days tossing it around in my head and in conversation, I discovered the hitch. The word "Dream" was one big, gaping loophole. And if my little insecure self sees a loophole that will keep me from trying to be great, I'll jump right through it. And a dream, my friends, is something you wake up from. It ain't real.

The second and final draft was a no-brainer.

Believe Big.
I will be a writer.

One week later I got the phone call that confirmed for me the power of a good tagline.

To Be Continued.... but in case anyone out there (like a publisher:-) is wondering, I haven't even finished the book proposal yet. But trust me people, it's still good.

Bejeweled Christmas

OK, I'm going to say something and please don't judge. I know how corny this sounds, but it's true nonetheless. Here goes.

There is something truly thrilling when you unwrap a gift from your boyfriend (I'm sure this applies to husbands and all sorts of other romantic attachments) and find yourself holding a velvet box containing some sort of jewelry....

Let me stop you there for a second. This is not an engagement ring. Or any ring for that matter. And I knew that and was in no way expecting one (though I wouldn't mind one either:-). So, now that we have appropriately adjusted expectations, I will continue describing the moment at hand.

...then find yourself opening the box to see something beautiful shining inside. Maybe even something you had admired a few weeks earlier when walking by a window display with your man.

I've never had that experience before today. Actually, I never even considered that I would desire that experience (except the engagement ring scenario, of course). But when it happened to me, my heart jumped a little. Before I opened the rectangular box, I glanced up to see Wine Guy nervously looking on.

See, Wine Guy is NOT comfortable with these sorts of purchases. He is not big on fashion accessories - for himself or his women. Let's put it this way, one of his previous serious girlfriends has a Ph.D. in Women's Studies and is pretty much a stereotype of what you're conservative Republican brother-in-law thinks "feminists" are like - angry at men, tattooed, smarter than them. This also explains why WG has been to more than a dozen Ani DiFranco concerts and continues to go every summer when she's in town (I love her, so that's a good thing). I have been known to call him my Lesbian Boyfriend.

So, to picture Wine Guy walking into a jewelry store and considering the purchases in front of him...well, that's huge. I wasn't going to say anything about it here (for fear of getting my mom's hopes up, but since she "promised" she would stop reading the blog, I'm going to just go for it --hi mom), but earlier in the week we were at the mall Christmas shopping and I had to go to a jewelry store to have some adjustments made on a necklace. He tagged along (reluctantly) and while we were waiting to talk to the jeweler, I wandered over to the engagement ring section, as I have done since I was a kid. I just like rings. Normally Wine Guy stands as far away as possible while this is happening, so I was surprised to find him standing right next to me looking over my shoulder.

Here is where the new strategy I discussed in the previous post comes into play (for Dishy, who requested more examples of my version of male manipulation). Instead of my normal smart ass remark ("Wow, look at these rings. And with Christmas just around the corner." Or "My hand is feeling naked all of a sudden"), I continued to admire the objects, then calmly pointed towards one that caught my eye. Ever so nonchalantly I said, "This is the kind of ring I always liked."

It was a little risky, but I pulled it off. I say this because of his reaction. He didn't walk away. He didn't laugh. He didn't make a smart ass comment. He just stayed there, looking over my shoulder and eventually responding with "Oh, I see." Before I could ruin the moment, I casually strolled to another display case.

Here comes the kicker. He then declares, "Wow. These aren't as expensive as I thought they'd be. They aren't engagement rings are they?" When I assured him they were, he continued to look. Like with his eyes, people.

I said it before and I'll say it again. They need to think it's their idea.

Then the jeweler came out and we started talking about what I needed done.
Thank God, because I was surely about to ruin the moment with my trusty Sledgehammer of Truth.

But I digress. Here we are, Christmas Day. I hold in my hand a black velvet box displaying a pretty silver and black sparkly pendant hanging off a silver chain. I remembered it from the jewelry store. Immediately he jumps in with disclaimers, "This is just a placeholder gift. I think there might be ones you'll like more inside the store. We can go back and pick out another one. You don't have to like it."

I did like it and told him he didn't need to say all of that. I was touched. But eventually we did agree that we should go back to the store together since I had only seen what they had in the window display. Plus, the chain was far too short (always the case with me. Apparently I have a football player's neck).

But none of that changed the fact that he did this - bought jewelry - just for me. Just to make me happy. I always say/whine, "I just want a guy to go out of his way for me, just once." I think it's time I stop saying/whining that.

Again, I know this is corny but I'm putting it out there. Guys, buy your ladies some jewelry. I promise, it's always a good decision.

And yes, mom, you were right.

Wishing you all a Happy Holiday! You are merrily dismissed.

P.S. As my good friends should already know about me, please act as if I never told you the engagement ring story. It's better for everyone not to get our hopes up, right?
(I fully intended to post a photo of the necklace by the way, but something is up with Blogger's insert photo tool. If anyone asks me, I will try again later to post it. And yes, this is also a bit of a test to see if anyone actually reads all the way to the end! )


Addendum 12/30/09 - Thanks for asking :-)

Sledgehammer of Truth

I work with faculty quite frequently in my job, trying to convince them to do something totally new that will help them tremendously with only a small amount of extra effort. It took me about five minutes to figure out what needed to happen to get them to act.

Let them think they came up with the idea first.

So why did it take me 20+ years of dating to figure out that men are the same way?

Yes, I am talking about the subtle female art of male manipulation. In the nicest way, of course.

Because I grew up without a father figure or much of any relationship modeling in the house, this is an art that was lost on me. I never really saw how couples interacted day in, day out. How they navigated differences in opinions, household chores, or preferences for what to do on a Saturday night.

Instead, what I saw was a lot of my poor mom hollering at her pack of unruly children. And no one to back her up or help her (shout out to you Mama Jack).

So what does that mean for my relationship with Wine Guy? Take a guess. (And yes, you can feel sorry for him--but just a little.) Sure he is often described as the Absentminded Professor. But the way I've chosen to work with this is more like a hollering mom than a clever partner who knows how to work with what she's got (like I do so easily on the job).

But with two live-in relationships under my belt (not to mention 37 years), the whole "I had no daddy" argument has just grown tired and useless. I finally decided I needed to sort this out pretty damn soon or this relationship was going bust.

So I started talked with my friends-- and my shrink-- and realized I had a very unrealistic, immature idea of what constitutes honesty in a relationship. I'm big on honesty. Partly because it's the best policy, but also because I really suck at all forms of deception, whether it be small white lies, or big purple ones.

How I chose to translate my version of honesty into a relationship was this: I am obligated to say everything that goes on inside my head. No nuance. No sideways inspiration. Just say it. Anything else would be less than honest. And isn't that what love is supposed to be based on?

Yeah, that goes over like a nice, soft sledgehammer. Especially with a stubborn man - the kind I usually pick.

So I decided to take a stab at the more nuanced approach to getting Wine Guy to do something I wanted him to do--join my gym. I've been going since October and have had amazing results in my first 6 weeks. Meanwhile, Wine Guy had stopped all forms of exercise and felt terrible about it.

I figured out very quickly that my gym was the kind of workout experience that would suit Wine Guy perfectly. A semi-private trainer, personalized workouts, uncrowded gym, close to home, and the kind of results I know he's seeking. But when I tried the straight-on approach ("You should join too. It's exactly what you are looking for!"), I got a big fat no.

But by this point I was learning. Instead of getting irritated and insistent, I kept my mouth shut and just kept going to the gym. I would tell him about it occasionally, but for the most part just went about my business getting in shape while he looked on from the sidelines. I went three times a week without fail, all the while knowing that the six-week mark was when my sneak attack would begin. See, six weeks is when they measure you again--for inches, body fat, heart rate etc. Then they compare the results to your stats from six weeks earlier.

I was very excited to learn I had lost 5 pounds of body fat, gained two pounds of lean mass and lost 5 inches overall. All without dieting. Sweet!

But instead of rushing home and gushing about my news to Wine Guy, then restating my request that he join, I simply asked my trainer to write down all my stats. If there's one thing I've learned about men (and faculty) in the last few years, it's that they like cold hard numbers. So she wrote it all down and at dinner that night I calmly read him the numbers.

When I was done reading I looked up from the paper and saw a glimmer in his eye that I can never seem to get with my own sledgehammer tactics. Inspiration. Before I could even react, he said the magic words, "That's it. I'm joining."

Freakin' magic.

This is just one of several successes I've had lately and it has made our relationship so much smoother. I know he recognizes and appreciates my restraint and, even though it's more work for me in the thinking/planning ahead department, it is well worth it.

We've also come to an arrangement that, once he signs on to an idea, I then ask permission to "nag" him about it. See, he is a flake and he knows it. He needs help to close the loop. Now that I know he wants to join the gym (and he thinks he came up with the idea himself), he gives me carte blanche in the nagging (I call it reminding) department. Withing 5 days he was signed up and hitting the gym every other day.

Now he comes home and flexes his muscles, proud of what he decided to do. Sure, whatever. As long as he's doing it. (And the 10% discount I get every month for referring him doesn't hurt either.)

Happy holidays everyone!
Dismissed.

Long Time No Blog

It's been awhile and, to tell you the truth, I'm not all that motivated to blab even after all this time. Not that I haven't been thinking about the blog. Actually, I've been thinking about it a lot. See, I'm taking a class on putting together a non-fiction book proposal so I've been busy thinking through how and if I could turn this blog into an entertaining book. Lots of homework, writing exercises and learning what the very business-minded publishers are looking for.

The cool part is that I am just teeming with stories to tell. A few I may have touched on here but mostly they are the tales that I never got to tell because I met Wine Guy three months into this blog and the whole development of the relationship took over from there.

The uncool part is that I have little energy to come home and write even more here. But I promise I'll be back soon.

In the meantime, a quick update. Everything is just fine. Wine Guy and my mom split the cooking for Thanksgiving and made quite a wonderful meal. I will not be complaining that I was left out of that whole process (though I did make a corn pudding that I call more "mixing things together" than cooking).

Everything in relationshipland is status quo. Actually pretty good. I've worked really hard the last few months on letting go of some negative core beliefs I've harbored since childhood and, well, I've discovered that I am pretty much "shoulding" myself to relationship destruction. I've calmed down about the whole MARRIAGE thing, and - what a surprise! - we are happier and Wine Guy is more willing to talk about commitment than ever before. We both agreed that once my hip stuff is taken care of (hopefully by spring 2010), it will be full steam ahead on baby-making. The rest- who the f*ck cares?! He's in it. I'm in it. We're committed. For the most part people, I'm calm. (See why I haven't posted in awhile? Being calm does not an interesting blog post make.)

Oh, and I've been working out like crazy. I joined a gym with semi-private trainers and have been going 3x/week. In six weeks I lost over 5 lbs of body fat and 5 inches overall. (So what if I still can't bend over to tie my shoe. At least I'm firming up while I wear my slip-ons.) Basically I'm feeling terrific physically - the first time in two years - and I think I have even inspired Wine Guy to join so we can at last get fit together.

That's it from here. Enjoy your holiday weekend - and all those leftovers!
Dismissed.