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.
February 1, 2010
December 25, 2009
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 :-)
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 :-)
December 21, 2009
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.
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.
November 27, 2009
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.
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.
October 21, 2009
The Declawed Cougar
I know, I know. The whole "cougar" phenomenon has hit its peak and is on the rapid downhill pop culture slide. (Seriously, I just Googled 'cougar woman' and was blown away by the number of websites that specialize in helping younger guys hook up with adventurous "older" women or helping these "older" women be a better Cougar. Gross.) But since I have never been on the cusp of what's "hip" (I think I declared that Pearl Jam was actually "a pretty good band" around 1996), allow me to address the matter here. And it probably isn't going to be in the way you would expect. OK, here goes.
I've been a Cougar since my early 20s.
How is that possible, you ask? Well, I think it has something to do with the fact that, in my early 20s -- when everyone else was acting their age--I just felt older. I'm sure that suffering from a bad back since the age of 8 didn't help matters (you don't feel very young and chipper when your friend invites you out to play and you have to decline because you "threw your back out").
I lived in New York City in my late teens/early 20s and it seemed like everyone my age was partying, throwing themselves into mosh pits, and grooving to techno music at after-hours raves til all hours (think early/mid 90s). While I was more of a pack a backpack for the day, pick an avenue, and walk it from my end of town (up, up, uptown) to the bottom tip of Manhattan (I still highly recommend this as a way to experience the distinct neighborhoods of the city, and not spend a lot of money). Then hop a subway back home, grab some Chinese to go and cuddle up in front of the TV for an early night.
When I did decide to try and play my age, I was usually ready to call it a night before they had even finished warming up. Half the time we didn't leave the apartment until midnight and I was already wishing I was on the couch with some garlic chicken.
But here's the thing - I didn't feel bad about this. Or left out. Sure, it sucked to miss out on some great concerts because standing up for 3 hours killed my back (since much improved, by the way). But besides that, I just knew I wasn't really missing out on much.
But there was one thing I was age appropriate about. Boys. I definitely had a physical "type" - about 19, kinda jocky-looking, and dangerous cute in a way I can only describe as "date rapist hot" (if you don't know what I mean by this offensive-sounding description, I don't know that I can explain it. Perhaps in another entry - but only upon request).
This "type" of mine was purely a physical attraction. Something I could not help. Because, trust me, I didn't want to be attracted to guys like that. They are almost always complete tools. And my more mature brain damn well knew it. But still, my hormones would flare up when such a man-boy would cross my path and, occasionally, I would even act upon it. (Ah....the days when you could get a guy just because you decided to say yes for once.)
As I got further into my 20s, my type didn't change. He barely aged actually. However, the guys I actually sought relationships with were nerdy, nice, gay-straight (a term I first talked about here) intellectuals. See, if something's going to last more than one night, my brain has to be stimulated at least as much as my body. But still, when one of those man-boys walked by, my eye was compelled to follow.
And then Columbine happened. Ridiculous sounding, I know. But still true. Yes, the shooters were ostracized, pimply teens with some serious emotional issues. But after that horrific incident, suddenly anything even slightly associated with younger guys became repulsive to me. They were sad. Repressed. Unevolved.
And that's exactly where I've stayed through the rest of my 20s and into my mid 30s.
So can someone please tell me what the hell has happened in the last two days that has made me suddenly notice the man-boys again?????? Yesterday, and again this evening, I was alarmed to find myself walking along and suddenly craning my neck to maintain the particular specimen within my line of site. There he was - 19ish, jocky, probably dumb as a stump. The complete and polar opposite of my goateed, glasses-wearing, adorably intellectual Wine Guy.
But there is one big difference between now and then. At the ripe age of 36, I am officially in "Cougar" territory (apparently 35+ is the qualifying age).
Oh, and just to make sure we are clear here --- I would NEVER do anything about this resurgence. Ever.
Which I guess makes the next part easy. Because now that I'm 36 and more "mature" in my appearance, I can assure you that they aren't looking back anymore. Or asking. At least not with any interest beyond "What's that lady looking at?" Which makes me nothing more than a leering, salivating, slightly pathetic Cougar.
Oh well. I guess I can take comfort in this the next time Wine Guy salivates over Padma Lakshmi during "Top Chef" - or whatever "type" he is drawn to that he can't have either.
Dismissed.
I've been a Cougar since my early 20s.
How is that possible, you ask? Well, I think it has something to do with the fact that, in my early 20s -- when everyone else was acting their age--I just felt older. I'm sure that suffering from a bad back since the age of 8 didn't help matters (you don't feel very young and chipper when your friend invites you out to play and you have to decline because you "threw your back out").
I lived in New York City in my late teens/early 20s and it seemed like everyone my age was partying, throwing themselves into mosh pits, and grooving to techno music at after-hours raves til all hours (think early/mid 90s). While I was more of a pack a backpack for the day, pick an avenue, and walk it from my end of town (up, up, uptown) to the bottom tip of Manhattan (I still highly recommend this as a way to experience the distinct neighborhoods of the city, and not spend a lot of money). Then hop a subway back home, grab some Chinese to go and cuddle up in front of the TV for an early night.
When I did decide to try and play my age, I was usually ready to call it a night before they had even finished warming up. Half the time we didn't leave the apartment until midnight and I was already wishing I was on the couch with some garlic chicken.
But here's the thing - I didn't feel bad about this. Or left out. Sure, it sucked to miss out on some great concerts because standing up for 3 hours killed my back (since much improved, by the way). But besides that, I just knew I wasn't really missing out on much.
But there was one thing I was age appropriate about. Boys. I definitely had a physical "type" - about 19, kinda jocky-looking, and dangerous cute in a way I can only describe as "date rapist hot" (if you don't know what I mean by this offensive-sounding description, I don't know that I can explain it. Perhaps in another entry - but only upon request).
This "type" of mine was purely a physical attraction. Something I could not help. Because, trust me, I didn't want to be attracted to guys like that. They are almost always complete tools. And my more mature brain damn well knew it. But still, my hormones would flare up when such a man-boy would cross my path and, occasionally, I would even act upon it. (Ah....the days when you could get a guy just because you decided to say yes for once.)
As I got further into my 20s, my type didn't change. He barely aged actually. However, the guys I actually sought relationships with were nerdy, nice, gay-straight (a term I first talked about here) intellectuals. See, if something's going to last more than one night, my brain has to be stimulated at least as much as my body. But still, when one of those man-boys walked by, my eye was compelled to follow.
And then Columbine happened. Ridiculous sounding, I know. But still true. Yes, the shooters were ostracized, pimply teens with some serious emotional issues. But after that horrific incident, suddenly anything even slightly associated with younger guys became repulsive to me. They were sad. Repressed. Unevolved.
And that's exactly where I've stayed through the rest of my 20s and into my mid 30s.
So can someone please tell me what the hell has happened in the last two days that has made me suddenly notice the man-boys again?????? Yesterday, and again this evening, I was alarmed to find myself walking along and suddenly craning my neck to maintain the particular specimen within my line of site. There he was - 19ish, jocky, probably dumb as a stump. The complete and polar opposite of my goateed, glasses-wearing, adorably intellectual Wine Guy.
But there is one big difference between now and then. At the ripe age of 36, I am officially in "Cougar" territory (apparently 35+ is the qualifying age).
Oh, and just to make sure we are clear here --- I would NEVER do anything about this resurgence. Ever.
Which I guess makes the next part easy. Because now that I'm 36 and more "mature" in my appearance, I can assure you that they aren't looking back anymore. Or asking. At least not with any interest beyond "What's that lady looking at?" Which makes me nothing more than a leering, salivating, slightly pathetic Cougar.
Oh well. I guess I can take comfort in this the next time Wine Guy salivates over Padma Lakshmi during "Top Chef" - or whatever "type" he is drawn to that he can't have either.
Dismissed.
October 13, 2009
To Friends and Foes
Hi readers (and apparently there still are some of you left, which is nice to know).
First of all, I'd like to thank those of you who've sent me kind emails and left thoughtful comments on my last post. It warms my heart to think about how total strangers can connect so legitimately through a venue like this. So thanks.
But I do feel the need to clarify a few things so you know where I am these days - and where I'm not.
The Harsh Comments
As far as I'm concerned, those come with the territory of putting my life out there on public (if anonymous) display. When they come, I read them over and then put them out of my mind. Sometimes this is easier than others (during my surgery recovery, this was quite difficult). I find it is especially easy to forget about a cruel comment (whether they meant it that way or not) if I don't respond directly to it. So that's why I rarely get into back-and-forth dialogues in the comments section. But everyone is entitled to their opinion (or venting or whatever) and that's why the comments section is open to anyone.
But that doesn't mean I don't take any critical comments to heart. My ears particularly perk up with the ones delivered in a compassionate way like "I know you may not want to hear this but what about considering......." Trust me, I can tell right off the bat who is just being vindictive and who is trying to offer helpful advice. I am always up for helpful critique and there have been plenty of times when I've thought long and hard about something someone said in my comments section - and sometimes even acted on it.
The Whole Truth
Your comments also reminded me that you don't know the whole story about my relationship with Wine Guy. In fact, there's a lot you don't know. Like the fact that we do talk about marriage -- a lot actually. And I pretty much know where we stand in that department (at least for now) and choose to stay just where I am for a reason - a good one actually. I love him. (Thanks Dark Cloud Nine for helping me remember that simple fact!)
This blog is not one long cohesive narrative (like it was in our first few months of dating). Once your relationship becomes immersed into the day to day of life, there really is no narrative anymore is there? Just life. So now I select moments, snapshots in time that I can focus on and explore in my writing. That's when I start digging around in my brain, trying to bring out the feelings that popped up in that moment - whether they were valid or not. Or whether I still feel them or not. Yes, the marriage thing looms large in my mind and becomes particularly dominant with certain triggers like a friend getting married (just happened) or having a baby (several just happened), or an ex getting engaged (my last two just did). So obviously this particular subject has been nagging at me a lot lately.
I was explaining this all to Wine Guy last night (I do tell him what I'm writing about and the reactions I get from you guys) and he helped me brainstorm about how to explain what it is I am putting out there for the world to read. We were both film studies majors in college and we couldn't help but recall all those 1960s film theorists who talked about how the frame of a camera removes the viewer from the context of a situation and re-envisions another reality within its own frame. More times than not, the reality of the moment has little to do with what the camera ultimately captured-- and what the editor decided to do with it.
That's kind of what's going on here. I choose the moments that spoke to me, and capture them within the lens of my mind (often a very effective distortion device) Then I edit, adapt, revise - until there's a story that I've crafted to share with you. It's all true, but it's not Truth. If that makes any sense.
So I guess that's why those harsh comments don't bother me that much (at least no longer than a few minutes). Because the people that come in and start making judgments about what they think is my life, aren't really seeing the whole picture. Only I know the entire Truth, and even that is skewed! So let them vent. Let them judge. If it makes them feel better fine. If you or I get something out of it too, even better.
Quitting the Blog
I consider it from time to time, mostly because I've been busy with some freelance writing and, combined with the writing I do all day at work, the blog starts to feel more like a chore than a hobby. But when I do find some time to sit down and write (like right now on my lunch break), I feel a sense of relief that no other writing gives me. So for now I think I'll keep it going, just knowing that I won't be updating as frequently as I'd like.
Thanks again to my friends out there. And to those of you who aren't my biggest fans, the comment box will always be there, whether you are or not.
Dismissed.
First of all, I'd like to thank those of you who've sent me kind emails and left thoughtful comments on my last post. It warms my heart to think about how total strangers can connect so legitimately through a venue like this. So thanks.
But I do feel the need to clarify a few things so you know where I am these days - and where I'm not.
The Harsh Comments
As far as I'm concerned, those come with the territory of putting my life out there on public (if anonymous) display. When they come, I read them over and then put them out of my mind. Sometimes this is easier than others (during my surgery recovery, this was quite difficult). I find it is especially easy to forget about a cruel comment (whether they meant it that way or not) if I don't respond directly to it. So that's why I rarely get into back-and-forth dialogues in the comments section. But everyone is entitled to their opinion (or venting or whatever) and that's why the comments section is open to anyone.
But that doesn't mean I don't take any critical comments to heart. My ears particularly perk up with the ones delivered in a compassionate way like "I know you may not want to hear this but what about considering......." Trust me, I can tell right off the bat who is just being vindictive and who is trying to offer helpful advice. I am always up for helpful critique and there have been plenty of times when I've thought long and hard about something someone said in my comments section - and sometimes even acted on it.
The Whole Truth
Your comments also reminded me that you don't know the whole story about my relationship with Wine Guy. In fact, there's a lot you don't know. Like the fact that we do talk about marriage -- a lot actually. And I pretty much know where we stand in that department (at least for now) and choose to stay just where I am for a reason - a good one actually. I love him. (Thanks Dark Cloud Nine for helping me remember that simple fact!)
This blog is not one long cohesive narrative (like it was in our first few months of dating). Once your relationship becomes immersed into the day to day of life, there really is no narrative anymore is there? Just life. So now I select moments, snapshots in time that I can focus on and explore in my writing. That's when I start digging around in my brain, trying to bring out the feelings that popped up in that moment - whether they were valid or not. Or whether I still feel them or not. Yes, the marriage thing looms large in my mind and becomes particularly dominant with certain triggers like a friend getting married (just happened) or having a baby (several just happened), or an ex getting engaged (my last two just did). So obviously this particular subject has been nagging at me a lot lately.
I was explaining this all to Wine Guy last night (I do tell him what I'm writing about and the reactions I get from you guys) and he helped me brainstorm about how to explain what it is I am putting out there for the world to read. We were both film studies majors in college and we couldn't help but recall all those 1960s film theorists who talked about how the frame of a camera removes the viewer from the context of a situation and re-envisions another reality within its own frame. More times than not, the reality of the moment has little to do with what the camera ultimately captured-- and what the editor decided to do with it.
That's kind of what's going on here. I choose the moments that spoke to me, and capture them within the lens of my mind (often a very effective distortion device) Then I edit, adapt, revise - until there's a story that I've crafted to share with you. It's all true, but it's not Truth. If that makes any sense.
So I guess that's why those harsh comments don't bother me that much (at least no longer than a few minutes). Because the people that come in and start making judgments about what they think is my life, aren't really seeing the whole picture. Only I know the entire Truth, and even that is skewed! So let them vent. Let them judge. If it makes them feel better fine. If you or I get something out of it too, even better.
Quitting the Blog
I consider it from time to time, mostly because I've been busy with some freelance writing and, combined with the writing I do all day at work, the blog starts to feel more like a chore than a hobby. But when I do find some time to sit down and write (like right now on my lunch break), I feel a sense of relief that no other writing gives me. So for now I think I'll keep it going, just knowing that I won't be updating as frequently as I'd like.
Thanks again to my friends out there. And to those of you who aren't my biggest fans, the comment box will always be there, whether you are or not.
Dismissed.
September 15, 2009
A Roomful of Faces
First allow me to set the stage.
A crowded living room full of my mom's friends -- many of them the Yenta ones I've told you about before. Everyone's sitting in a circle, my mom at the head (it is her birthday party after all). Next to my mom is an empty chair and next to the empty chair is a woman with a warm eyes and a stack of books to sell. Every 5-8 minutes, someone from the circle gets up, walks across the the circle and sits down in the empty chair. All of this so the warm-eyed woman can stare at them for a few minutes and read their face.
Yep, face reading. That's what my mom wanted to do for her 70th birthday party. And when you make it to 70 (and look as good as my mom does once you get there), you get what you want.
It turns out that my mom's friend knows the Face Reader who - as she told us many, many, many times during the session - has been on over 50 television shows like Tyra Banks and even The Young and the Restless (seriously). She also has a credible health care background and has studied the science (it is actually one) of face reading for many years and worked with law enforcement, corporations, the FBI -- anyone that might want to find out about someone without actually asking them. (It's similar to the guy that the TV show "Lie to Me" is based on, except that he reads "transient" emotions - the ones that tell you what they're thinking or feeling in a split second - and she reads the actual face - eye shape, nose, hairline, ears - all of which are supposed to reveal traits about your inner self. Here's some information I found that might explain it - but don't hold me to it.)
So we threw a potluck party and invited a select group of people who might be up for having their faces read in a festive setting. Interesting and entertaining. Generally a good party idea.
Wine Guy was invited and, naturally, I volunteered him to cook one of the main dishes. I was tasked with scribbling down notes during each person's reading since it goes by in such a blur you hardly remember a thing. I was so busy writing that I hardly had time to ruminate about the fact that both Wine Guy and I were going to have to sit there and have our faces read in front of everyone, Yentas and all.
I could tell that Wine Guy was excited about doing it, being a trained astrologer and all. But the second he made his way to the empty chair, I heard a distinct tittering among the group. [Disclaimer: It was at this very moment that the potential embarrassment of what was about to happen hit me. And it hit hard. Irrationally hard. So understand that I am writing about how I was feeling at the moment - whether it was accurate or not.]
The Face Reader knew WG was my boyfriend and, being the only unmarried couple at the party, this presented a great opportunity for her to talk about romantic compatibility as seen through facial structure. Totally understandable. The very first thing she says when his butt hits the chair is that we should definitely get married. Just. Like. That.
It's all a blur after that. I recall that everyone burst out laughing and that my mom and my overly obnoxious brother Pat-hole took the opportunity (as usual) to holler their exasperated agreement. I think I said something like "I'm trying!" and attempted to smile, all the while cringing inside and wondering how mortified/pissed/irritated Wine Guy might be feeling.
Then she started saying something about how the most compatible couples have a 70/30 match of facial features (70% similar, 30% dissimilar) and that Wine Guy's and my facial features totally line up. Well that was nice to hear. If only I wasn't dizzy with embarrassment while I was hearing it.
The rest of what she said about Wine Guy is also a blur (I have to consult the notes I was able to scribble down for him) but I know her comments were accurate and that she thought he had an interesting face (handsome, if I do say so myself).
A few more people had their turns and then it was mine, second to last. I sat down in the chair and looked into the Face Reader's eyes, praying I would be spared further embarrassment. [Refer to previous Disclaimer.] She looked at me deeply for a moment and then, very kindly, looked up towards Wine Guy across the circle and said firmly and with utter confidence, "OK. You need to marry him."
Huge burst of raucous laughter. I'm know I'm laughing too, because I'm relieved to hear this. But at the same time I'm dying. Again, brother starts hollering. Mom starts with her comments. I believe I even turned around and literally put my hand over my mom's mouth at one point. Wine Guy was laughing and seemed fine but it didn't matter. I was in full scale freak out mode.
When I realized the crowd was not going to simmer down right away, I tried to wait it out. I remember sitting there staring at the Face Reader, who was clearly taken aback by this reaction (it was sort of like a burst of energy the second she said it). I quietly said to her, "I'm just going to sit here and let it pass." I think I repeated that a few times, like a chant, as everyone let it out of their systems.
When I think about it now - after I'm all cooled down - I really don't understand everyone's hysteria. It's not like Wine Guy and I have been together for a decade or something. Yes, they all know that I am ready to get married and that I've had marital mishaps in my past -- but I just don't see why everyone feels they are perfectly justified in shouting out their opinions about my personal relationship. Especially during a moment that's supposed to reveal some insights into me - not just my relationship.
But I can hear my mom's voice now as she's reading this (even though I asked her to stop reading my blog - but really, that ain't gonna happen), "But we all just want you to be happy. We know getting married is what you want and we want it for you too." I totally believe that and now, in hindsight, I know that that their reaction was entirely out of love and good humor.
But at the time, and for the remainder of the party, I was pissed off. I felt like my face reading time was ruined by their heckling and that my mom and my brother were completely out of line. I was sure that Wine Guy was mortified and even less likely to propose to me now that this had happened.
While having cake a little while later, the Face Reader pulled me aside and asked, "What that was all about?" I tried to respond but, honestly, I was still so flustered I think I didn't make much sense. I said something like, "Oh, it's my family just making inappropriate comments about my life." Then Pat-hole walked up and began to declare his position as only Pat-hole can, "Baby Sister (that's what he calls me), Do You Want To Know Why I Said --"
Before he could continue (when he asks a question like that he doesn't really care if or what you answer) I shouted , "No! I don't!" and stormed off. Again leaving the poor Face Reader confused.
On the drive home I let it out to Wine Guy. Mostly I wanted him to know I didn't approve of all the "pressure" that was being thrust at him. It would have been nice if I'd said something like, "I hope you didn't feel uncomfortable during the face reading." Alas, I never say what I should - especially when I'm upset. Instead, my emotions just came pouring out in a flow of negativity and slight hysteria. (I know. I'm a real catch.)
Apparently, readers, I am really good at hiding my feelings because Wine Guy had no freaking clue how upset I was. And, to make me feel even more ridiculous for letting it all out, he responded angrily that I must be completely insane for feeling negative about the situation at all. Now I'm really confused.
So, wait. Not only was I wrong in how I interpreted this entire event (not unusual) but that Wine Guy was, in fact, perfectly fine with all the marriage joshing. Tell me if I'm crazy (well, I am. But only address this last sentence when you tell me) but when a guy knows you are waiting for a marriage proposal, and he knows your mother, brother and all your family friends are waiting too. And this kind of thing happens. And you think it's all in good fun?
Well, unless Wine Guy is a total sociopath with no empathy for other sentient beings (uh, I fell in love with one like that before - Naval A-hole - so I'm not being sarcastic) -- he must actually be realistically considering it.
Wow, it was a long and unnecessarily painful road to get to that happy realization wasn't it?
So on one side, I'm choosing to see this as a really positive sign from Wine Guy.
On the other, I clearly have some massively unresolved issues that have completely obliterated my ability to read a situation.
I'm seeing the shrink on Friday.
Dismissed.
A crowded living room full of my mom's friends -- many of them the Yenta ones I've told you about before. Everyone's sitting in a circle, my mom at the head (it is her birthday party after all). Next to my mom is an empty chair and next to the empty chair is a woman with a warm eyes and a stack of books to sell. Every 5-8 minutes, someone from the circle gets up, walks across the the circle and sits down in the empty chair. All of this so the warm-eyed woman can stare at them for a few minutes and read their face.
Yep, face reading. That's what my mom wanted to do for her 70th birthday party. And when you make it to 70 (and look as good as my mom does once you get there), you get what you want.
It turns out that my mom's friend knows the Face Reader who - as she told us many, many, many times during the session - has been on over 50 television shows like Tyra Banks and even The Young and the Restless (seriously). She also has a credible health care background and has studied the science (it is actually one) of face reading for many years and worked with law enforcement, corporations, the FBI -- anyone that might want to find out about someone without actually asking them. (It's similar to the guy that the TV show "Lie to Me" is based on, except that he reads "transient" emotions - the ones that tell you what they're thinking or feeling in a split second - and she reads the actual face - eye shape, nose, hairline, ears - all of which are supposed to reveal traits about your inner self. Here's some information I found that might explain it - but don't hold me to it.)
So we threw a potluck party and invited a select group of people who might be up for having their faces read in a festive setting. Interesting and entertaining. Generally a good party idea.
Wine Guy was invited and, naturally, I volunteered him to cook one of the main dishes. I was tasked with scribbling down notes during each person's reading since it goes by in such a blur you hardly remember a thing. I was so busy writing that I hardly had time to ruminate about the fact that both Wine Guy and I were going to have to sit there and have our faces read in front of everyone, Yentas and all.
I could tell that Wine Guy was excited about doing it, being a trained astrologer and all. But the second he made his way to the empty chair, I heard a distinct tittering among the group. [Disclaimer: It was at this very moment that the potential embarrassment of what was about to happen hit me. And it hit hard. Irrationally hard. So understand that I am writing about how I was feeling at the moment - whether it was accurate or not.]
The Face Reader knew WG was my boyfriend and, being the only unmarried couple at the party, this presented a great opportunity for her to talk about romantic compatibility as seen through facial structure. Totally understandable. The very first thing she says when his butt hits the chair is that we should definitely get married. Just. Like. That.
It's all a blur after that. I recall that everyone burst out laughing and that my mom and my overly obnoxious brother Pat-hole took the opportunity (as usual) to holler their exasperated agreement. I think I said something like "I'm trying!" and attempted to smile, all the while cringing inside and wondering how mortified/pissed/irritated Wine Guy might be feeling.
Then she started saying something about how the most compatible couples have a 70/30 match of facial features (70% similar, 30% dissimilar) and that Wine Guy's and my facial features totally line up. Well that was nice to hear. If only I wasn't dizzy with embarrassment while I was hearing it.
The rest of what she said about Wine Guy is also a blur (I have to consult the notes I was able to scribble down for him) but I know her comments were accurate and that she thought he had an interesting face (handsome, if I do say so myself).
A few more people had their turns and then it was mine, second to last. I sat down in the chair and looked into the Face Reader's eyes, praying I would be spared further embarrassment. [Refer to previous Disclaimer.] She looked at me deeply for a moment and then, very kindly, looked up towards Wine Guy across the circle and said firmly and with utter confidence, "OK. You need to marry him."
Huge burst of raucous laughter. I'm know I'm laughing too, because I'm relieved to hear this. But at the same time I'm dying. Again, brother starts hollering. Mom starts with her comments. I believe I even turned around and literally put my hand over my mom's mouth at one point. Wine Guy was laughing and seemed fine but it didn't matter. I was in full scale freak out mode.
When I realized the crowd was not going to simmer down right away, I tried to wait it out. I remember sitting there staring at the Face Reader, who was clearly taken aback by this reaction (it was sort of like a burst of energy the second she said it). I quietly said to her, "I'm just going to sit here and let it pass." I think I repeated that a few times, like a chant, as everyone let it out of their systems.
When I think about it now - after I'm all cooled down - I really don't understand everyone's hysteria. It's not like Wine Guy and I have been together for a decade or something. Yes, they all know that I am ready to get married and that I've had marital mishaps in my past -- but I just don't see why everyone feels they are perfectly justified in shouting out their opinions about my personal relationship. Especially during a moment that's supposed to reveal some insights into me - not just my relationship.
But I can hear my mom's voice now as she's reading this (even though I asked her to stop reading my blog - but really, that ain't gonna happen), "But we all just want you to be happy. We know getting married is what you want and we want it for you too." I totally believe that and now, in hindsight, I know that that their reaction was entirely out of love and good humor.
But at the time, and for the remainder of the party, I was pissed off. I felt like my face reading time was ruined by their heckling and that my mom and my brother were completely out of line. I was sure that Wine Guy was mortified and even less likely to propose to me now that this had happened.
While having cake a little while later, the Face Reader pulled me aside and asked, "What that was all about?" I tried to respond but, honestly, I was still so flustered I think I didn't make much sense. I said something like, "Oh, it's my family just making inappropriate comments about my life." Then Pat-hole walked up and began to declare his position as only Pat-hole can, "Baby Sister (that's what he calls me), Do You Want To Know Why I Said --"
Before he could continue (when he asks a question like that he doesn't really care if or what you answer) I shouted , "No! I don't!" and stormed off. Again leaving the poor Face Reader confused.
On the drive home I let it out to Wine Guy. Mostly I wanted him to know I didn't approve of all the "pressure" that was being thrust at him. It would have been nice if I'd said something like, "I hope you didn't feel uncomfortable during the face reading." Alas, I never say what I should - especially when I'm upset. Instead, my emotions just came pouring out in a flow of negativity and slight hysteria. (I know. I'm a real catch.)
Apparently, readers, I am really good at hiding my feelings because Wine Guy had no freaking clue how upset I was. And, to make me feel even more ridiculous for letting it all out, he responded angrily that I must be completely insane for feeling negative about the situation at all. Now I'm really confused.
So, wait. Not only was I wrong in how I interpreted this entire event (not unusual) but that Wine Guy was, in fact, perfectly fine with all the marriage joshing. Tell me if I'm crazy (well, I am. But only address this last sentence when you tell me) but when a guy knows you are waiting for a marriage proposal, and he knows your mother, brother and all your family friends are waiting too. And this kind of thing happens. And you think it's all in good fun?
Well, unless Wine Guy is a total sociopath with no empathy for other sentient beings (uh, I fell in love with one like that before - Naval A-hole - so I'm not being sarcastic) -- he must actually be realistically considering it.
Wow, it was a long and unnecessarily painful road to get to that happy realization wasn't it?
So on one side, I'm choosing to see this as a really positive sign from Wine Guy.
On the other, I clearly have some massively unresolved issues that have completely obliterated my ability to read a situation.
I'm seeing the shrink on Friday.
Dismissed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
