SOTD 8-26-09

Since I don’t really feel like talking or thinking about it anymore, here is my past few days- in short.

My mom got married.  August 14th I think she said.  They had a party at her house, the house i grew up in, and announced it to all of us that they were married.  It’s a good thing for her, and I have no objections.  It’s just weird if I put too much thought into it…like at 27 I have step-dad….I already tried asking “dad” for money. Didn’t work.

My fucking car is still in the shop.  Monday, before flying back out to Denver, I secured myself a rental car for the week.  Things seemed to be going pretty smooth.  Should have known better.

Tuesday, I was told that the inspector is denying my warranty claim, and that if that motion goes through, it’ll be anywhere from 1500-2200 or more maybe, for a new transmission.  I have no idea where teh hell I would get that kind of money.  So, I had to start collecting receipts to show that I have indeed serviced my car. 

Today, my rental car got a flat tire, right where Vex died actually, and at 540 AM I sat there changing a tire..or I at least commenced the process.  A guy stopped on his way out of the complex to help me.  I love being a girl!  But i showed up at work late and with dirty, greasy hands, and yet another story to tell them all about.

And this warranty fight is still going on.  I just hope to my god Loki that they finish it before the cost of the rental cost exceeds the price of a brand new car….

And that has been the past week, in a nutshell-ish.

SOTD August 22

Browns vs the Lions.  A pre-season game.  I went along with Tasha, who hooted and hollered and whistled like a drunken man through most of the game and bounced around like a child on Christmas when she wasn’t doing any of the above.   

Although it was a win for C-town, I can’t admit much excitement.  Tasha tried to throw it off as that I just had no love of the game.  Please.  I am a Buckeye.  To say I don’t like football….well, that’s just ignorant.  If she thought about it for a second, rather than jumping at a possible opportunity to joust me, she would realize the true nature of my ambiguity.   I hate Cleveland.  I scorn the city.  It’s a town full of Dawgs.  And I just can’t get behind a sport program that has horrible fans and a reputation for choking. 

I don’t remember when I started hating the city.  Maybe when I moved to Columbus and saw that a city could actually be clean and pretty.  And the sports teams, well I stopped cheering for them in middle school when I realized that they may get somewhere, but they never bring it home. 

So, although I enjoyed the experience of going to a browns game and seeing the stadium and field,  having a few drinks with a friend and a night out, I couldn’t even fake being excited.  I would merely smile at her jeers about my displeasure   I am hardly ever discontent, and I never do anything I don’t want to.  If I hadn’t wanted to go to the game, I would have passed on her invitation. 

And even if it doesn’t appear that I’m  having fun because I’m not losing my voice screaming at the team to do  something, I am.   It’s not like I was sitting with arms folded, scowling.  I clapped and stood up to be able to see, and I paid attention to the score and the players.  I recognized Cribbs and Braylon Edwards (fucking Michigan) and Brodney Pool.  I am capable of finding amusement in anything.  And I do enjoy the sport….but my true passion for it starts in 2 weeks. 

If Tasha wants to see me hopping up and down screaming at the TV for Tressle to figure out what he’s doing, she should come out to Colorado Sept. 5^th.  Or,  if she really wants me on the edge of my seat for a football game, how about Sept 12^th; a date I have had marked on my calendar for a good year now.

It is about time now to start the rally cry.  To imprint on my coins  ‘In Tressle I Trust’.  It is almost time for me to order that block O flag and drape it over my balcony.  In two Saturdays from now, I will be pacing my apt, beer in hand, waiting with baited breath (and TV turned up to a ridiculous level so I can hear when Carmen Ohio starts to play) for my band to begin snaking out in script Ohio.

I will wake up an ungodly hour for a Saturday to watch Kirk Herbstreit do his Gameday thing.  I will don a necklace made of poisonous nuts and childish beads.  And, I will even put on the song Hang on Sloopy and make the letters O,H and I with my arms, even if I am by myself.   

Now that is a team I can get behind…even if they do the typical Ohio thing and bring us right to the edge each year only to break our hearts. 

Let’s go Buckeyes.  O-H-I-O

SOTD 8-19-09

My friend Marcus is in town for a while, crashing at my place with me.  It’s always fun to have company, when you are prepared for it.  And it’s nice to have a person to come home and yap at when you walk in the door from work.  Tell them about your day at work, or explain, 8 hours later, why you came back to the apt 5 minutes after leaving for work, huffing about a car and reverse and ridiculousness and whatever else he had caught in my mumbles as he tried to sleep on the couch.

But yesterday, he was the one with the story.  I came home to him playing video games, and since he already had an idea how my day had gone with the fucking car, I asked how his day went.   He laughed, and told me he was waging a bit of a war on my boy.  I dropped my purse and went for the vodka in the freezer, only half acknowledging.  “Which boy?”  I asked as I filled half a glass with peach vodka and then topped it off with cranberry.  “My Obama boy, or Boy boy?”

‘Boy’ is this kid that does some marketing for Marcus.  He is the one guy Marcus has actually told me I should date.  I’ve never actually met Boy boy, who’s actual name is Brad…I think, but I  hear about him once in a while.

“Uhhh, you’re Obama boy.”

“Mmmm.”  I said, tossing a straw in my cocktail and admiring the pretty pink color.  “What’d you do?’

“I pretty much said he should be fired.”

I set my drink down.  “You know, the fact that he works for the president is what makes him that much more awesome.  Why would you say he should be fired?”

He then said it was more a call for the whole communications staff.  I just looked at him incredulously.  “Why?”  I asked again.

He said something about them not getting their message out there.  I shrugged.  ‘They got him elected, dude.  They are pretty damn good.”

He countered by stating the election was over.  They had other things they were supposed to be doing.  Like the healthcare plan.

I almost instantly lost interest.  I had heard so much back and forth about the healthcare plan.   “Dude, I have no idea what they want to do with this healthcare thing.   I thought I would like it at first.  But people keep talking about it and how it’s too much government in their private lives…I might have to agree.  The government shouldn’t be that involved in shit.   It’s kind of scary; the government creeping into control things.”

Marcus laughed.  “You see!  that’s just it!!  No one really knows.”

I frowned at him, then took my drink out to my balcony.  But Marcus wasn’t done.  He had a point to make and an argument that he wanted to layout.   “I got a response.”  he pointed out.

I sipped my drink.  “What response?”

He told me how, in an off the record question, Gibbs,  had something about not listening to third rate bloggers.  I cracked up laughing.    That was awesome.   The fact that someone had called Marcus a third rate blogger.  “I can’t believe he even bothered to say anything!”  I kept laughing.

Marcus laughed with me.  He said normally, they don’t.  But he had.     Then, of course, I had to ask why in the world Marcus would think the guy was actually referring to him. he put forth some ideas that seemed feasible.   And I laughed again.  Someone even acknowledging Marcus, especially throwing out that about being a third rate blogger, entertained me.

Then, suddenly, I stopped laughing.  “Hey, wait.  If they hear you, and acknowledge you…..you just called for my boy to be fired!”

He laughed.   Arrogant son of a bitch.  ….but I will admit, I was definitely quasi impressed.   Marcus is just Marcus to me.  Argumentative, arrogant, over confident,  and just Marcus.  To hear that somethng he said could be heard, understood and acknowledged by someone was pretty cool.  And I know he has told me before that he talks to political people once in a while, but again, it’s Marcus.   He’s a friend.  He’s a drinking buddy.  He’s a confidant.  He’s not a big deal….but, on this, I have to say, maybe he has some fans.

But just to make sure it’s clear….I am not a fan!   I’m just putting that out there.  NOT in the Marcus fan club.   Because, I don’t know how many times I can say it; he’s just marcus to me.

SOTD 8-18-09

Vex died today.

….Ok, she didn’t die, exactly.  But she will only drive in reverse…and for a car, I think that is about as near death as it can get before you need to buy a new one…or a whole new transmission.

I was all ready for work this Am, even anticipating a nice stop at starbucks, since I was leaving on time. And by ‘on time’ I mean I was leaving at a time that would allow me to stop at starbucks and still be at work at my usualu 5-8 minutes past the hour.  (I even joke that my  work hours are 6:05  or 6:10 till 2:30…I’m not late till it’s 11 after.)

So I jump in my car, back her out, put her in drive, and then just sit there.  The engine revved and she sounded like she wanted to go somewhere, really fast, but she just didn’t move.  So I urged her to go.  Lately she ’s been needing alot of praise just to go.  I pleaded with her today. “C’mon baby.  You’re a good car.  Go. go.  C’mon Vex, you can do it…GO!”

She kicked a few times then rolled forward.  And then she gained momentum and moved smoothly on her own…till we got to the gate.  I had to stop and wait for the gates to open, and she didn’t like that.  She kicked a few more times, and then just roled to a stop arond the corner on the main street.

I sat there stunned for a few seconds, wondering what the hell to do next.  She wasn’ moving forward, but….

I threw her in reverse.  And she moved!!!   Shr drove backwards!!  So I drove her, backwards, to the gates I had just left.  Then I remembered that my gate opener didn’t work at theses gates and that I had to go around the corner.  I sat there for another few second, contemplating what the fuck to do. Obviously she wasn’t going to make it to work.  So, Step one;  I called jake to ask for a ride to work.  

Step 2:  see if she can make it around the corner forward…if not, well, it was 5:30 Am.  the streets were empty.  I would just have to drive backwards around the corner and hope to god that I wasn’t pulled over.

Step 3; I prayed like mad, with my heart beating in my throat, that I wasn’t pulled over.

I finally got her parked again, after a near miss with one of the damn millions of rabbits that live in my comples, and put her in park. 

All in all, I fought with my car for about 20 minutes this morning. Not to mention the adrenaline that rushed through me when she died on a main street and from driving backwards down a main road.  nedles to say, I didn’t need my morning cup of cofee, and that’s fine, since I had to forego my starbucks stop. 

But again, so much in so little time, and all before I’m even half awake.  I really do love my life. It keeps me on my toes.  Thanks Loki!!!

SOTFD 8-15-09

 

Yeah, that’s story of the FUCKING day today.  It it just after noon, 12 39 to be exact, and I have already had a hell of a day…and two redbulls.  Fuck, I may go make myself a nice cool peach vodka and cranberry.

Typically, what is a person suppoed to be doing on a Saturday morning?  First and foremost, you should be sleeping in till around 10 30 or 11, nursing the hangover from the drinking and partying on Friday night.  Then, there should be any realm of things to get into through out the day.  Things like camping, or hiking, or a pool party at my complex.  Or maybe just simply staying in the airconditioned darkened apartment until it cools off outside and you can repeat the night before.

But not me.  Oh no.  I have commenced war with my dog. 

Last night was a nice cool night so I left my windows and screen door open.  But my neurotic dog, freaked out and tried to go after another dog she saw outside, jumping against the screen door and bending it.   After a quick look over, and some cursing at the beast, I concluded it was something that needed to be left to morning to fix.  So I closed all my windows and turned on the AC, which I can’t afford to pay for. 

Now, Since my typical work week morning statrs at 5 Am, I can’t sleep in any later than 9.  So, At 9 Am on a saturday morning I crawled off my couch and decided to get my apt in order.  I first went to the grocery store to find food; my fridge has only a gallon of expired milk, ketchup, and a can of greenbeans, opened and only half eaten.  The freezer has about 4 rolls of Girl Scout thin mints which I refuse to eat unless I have to, one freezer burnt piece of garlic bread, and a bottle of Tanqueray and a bottle of Absolut Peach vodka.  Yeah, I know where my priorities lie…

 I came back  from the grocery to find that my psychotic dog had eaten my toothbrush and toothpaste.  For some reason, her behavior has taken a turn for the worse lately, and this has been the third toothbrush and fourth tube of toothpast she has eaten.  I have started closing the bathroom when I go to work, but I had only been at the grocery for 15 minutes!!  

 I stared at her for a second, then decided it was time for her to get a bath. 

She new something was coming and when I called her name, she hunkered down low to the ground and wagged her tail in an apologetic manner. 

But I know her tricks!   I didn’t relent.  And when she refused to give up her ‘I’m a cute dog’ ruse, I grabbed her by her front legs and pulled her across the floor toward the bathroom.  Near the door, she flopped around, jumped to her feet and attempted to dodge into the bedroom.  She’s a Rhodesian Ridgeback and a good 70 lbs.  When she lowers to the ground and makes herself heavy, it’s hard to move her.  But it’s equally hard to pull her somewhere when she digs her feet in.  And, at 70 lbs, it’s not an easy feat to pick her up, especially since she fights that tooth and nail.  She even goes so far as to snarl at me. 

Althought htere is nothing in the bedroom for her to get behing or under, I still didn’t want  to have to fight her all the way across the bedroom. I reacted just as quickly, tackling her and grabbing her around the chest right under her front legs.  I picked her front half off the ground and hauled her to the bathroom, placing her front legs in the tub.  Apparently, realizing defeat, she hopped her back legs in and just stood there, head hanging, tail tucked, and very still.   I shampooed her with apple scented shampoo, and for an extra kick, conditioned her in strawberry condtioner.  Then I sent her outside, via the window, after pulling the screen out of that, since I hadn’t been able to fix the screen door yet. 

I shut the window and left her to dry out there while I went back to the grocery store to buy toothpaste, 2 new toothbrushes, a dog hair brush and drain-o, because the dog fur clogged the drain. As I walked in the grocry door, someone held out a flyer, asking if I could please help out.  On that flyer was a short grocery list of items that families could use.  I looked the flyer over.  The bold print on top said Parker’s Family Help List.   I shook my head.  They better mean that Parker Community is helping out other families in need, because asking to help families  in Parker is like asking for help for people living in Lincoln Park, Chicago; They don’t need it.  Or, if they do, maybe they should sell they 1.8 million dollar home and re-join the ranks of a normal person.   

But I shrugged.  They were simple things on this list, canned fruit or veggies,  pasta, deoderant, feminine products, diapers, cleaning items, etc.  Fine. I told myself, I can afford one of these items.  I went about getting the shit I needed, and then grabbed a Dove deoderant and a Dawn dishwashing soap (they were in the isle I was already in).   As I walkd out, I silently handed over those two items to the person, and gave the flyer back.  Then I went back to my car, wondering what the fuck. 

I was close to being on a list of needy myself and here I was, spending money I don’t have, on someone else.  What, exactly does one need to do to get help like that.  Cause I could use it.  I mean, after months here, I still sleep on a couch and have only a TV and a coffee table.  I skip payments of one utility bill in order to pay another.  And, for Christ sake, I eat popcorn and chips and salsa for dinner.  Yeah, I like popcorn and chips and salsa, but if I could afford to eat chicken and salads everynight, I would…if I had the pan to cook the shit it.

Taking a sip of my Redbull to swallow the rant in my head, I tossed my few bags in the car and went back to my humble apt.  Then, I continued my battles.  If my dog liked my toothbursh and toothpaste, then she would like her teeth brushed, right?  Well, she was getting her teeth brushed whether she liked it or not, it was good for her.  And, I was running that  hair brush over her as well.  If she could clog the drain, she had too much fur.  It was time to start treating my dog like a dog.

Brushing her fur went well.  I thnk she actually liked it.  But, well, she didn’t like the teeth brushing.  It took about 20 mnutes for me to get her front teeth only.  She ducked her head between her front legs and braced herself against a wall.  And when I wrestled her head out, she jumped out of my grasp and the pursuit would start all over again.  I gave up trying to get the back teeth, it’ll come in time.  I totally intend to continue brushing her teeth.  But we’ll see.  I may get tired of the fight.  

Next was that goddamn screen door.  I crawled out my window with a hammer and my redbull.  For 30 minutes I hammered, and pulled and pushed and kicked at the screen, to the amusement of my neighbors.  They watched as they loaded up their truck to go camping.  When I finally stood there, sipping my redbull and staring at it, one of the guys ventured to ask.  “Did you get it?”

“Nope,” I answered back, looking at kala.  ” I think I just to get a new one…and a new screen door.”   He followed my gaze to my dog and just smiled. 

I made one last attempt with the door, and wehn it bent in my hands into an hour glass shaped door, I knew I lost the battle.  I finished my redbull and sank down into a chair, intent on just watching them pack up their truck and relaxing for a few minutes.  When I realized i hadn’t even eaten anything, I didn’t move out of my chair.  The redbull and taken away the hunger and I was ready to give up on the day already.  That vodka creanberry was souning like an excellent idea.

But then I noticed my furball was sleeping peacefully under my chair.  She was still and silent and looked so innocent and cute.  I took a deep breath.  The battles of the day were over for now.   I am ok with crawling in and out of the window until I can afford a new screen door, which probably wont be until at least mid winter.   The dog is bathed and smells nice and I have a full day ahead of me to get the apt clean.  I don’t have the money to go camp or go shop or go skydive if I so chose, but it’s great weather, I have a nice apt, and really I can’t complain.  Everyday has it’s battles, which continuously allows me a story of the day.  So makes up the stroy of my life. 

Yet, I wonder….

Maybe I can put together a list and stand outside the grocery store handing it to people as they come in.   You think anyone will believe that I NEED Redbull and Steaks? 

Or, hell, maybe I should try it outside of Bed Bath and Beyond;  yes, I am  in need of those 12 dollar candles and a duvet cover…a nice cream colored one if you could….

SOTD 8-14-09

So, my president is in my state this weekend.  Obama ans family are supposed to be out in Grand Junction sometime between this afternoon and Sunday.

And that’s cool and all.  It would be sweet as hell to meet President Obama, I think.  However, there are more pressing questions in my head when I hear he is in town.  For exmple; is his speech writer going to be accompaning him?

About a year, maybe a little more, ago, I had read somewhere that Barack Obama’s speech writer was only 27 years old.  I was captivated by that.  I was nearing my 27th birthday and the guys at work, as usual, were giving me a hard time about getting myself a boyfriend.  I’m single and I enjoy it…if you read my previous posts, you’ll see that.  But I had told them that I had eaten popcorn for dinner the night before.  (It’s one of my typical dinners, aside from chips and salsa or cereal)  They  were almost apalled by that.   Shocked even.

“Popcorn?  For Dinner?  Wow, yeah.  You do need to be domesticated.”

I had shrugged and ran through my possible potentials…which was no one.  Colorado has guy  guys.  Guys that board and hike and have four wheel vehicles that they actually use for real off roading or mountaining.  But, even though I had considered most assholes when I lived there, I was really missing the Chicago Yuppies.  I wanted a white collar kid. 

So, since i had read that Obama’s speech writer was about my age, I made a declaration that he would be the guy I would marry. (not that i have any crazed desire to get married, I don’t behave at weddings apparently, can you imagine me at my own?  I’d be running away terrified) 

My co-workers looked at me like I was crazy.  “What?”  I asked. “He’s my age-older actually, so he’s an older man, which girls like.  He’s gotta be from Chicago if he works for Obama, which I  like.  He’s obviously smart talented and career driven; a real Yuppy, if he’s working for the President.  I don’t see what I wouldn’t like.”

“Do you even know what he looks like?”

I hadn’t really considered that.  In my thrill of the moment of having found someone that sounded pretty awesome on paper, I had overlooked that.  So, when I just stared at them, one of the guys started laughing.  “You know he’s short and plumpy, right?  And he is probably boring as hell, sitting inside all day working away.  And he’s 27, how good can he be?”

I considered this for a second, then shrugged one shoulder. “Eh.”

“Eh?”

“Yeah. Eh.  He still sounds pretty good.  He got the president elected with those speeches, so he has to be damn good.  And, anyone who is a writer is someone I could love, someone who might be able to understand me -”

“-I don’t think anyone could understand you.”

“-And looks aren’t everything.”  I ended, glaring at zach for his comment.  And then raising my eyebrows sharply at hom when he scuffed at my finishing line.

“Yeah. You? Looks aren’t everything?  I don’t believe that.”

I shrugged at him and turned back to my computer.  He was right, of course.  Looks do have alot to do with relationships.  You do have to be physically attracted to the person you are dating.  I thoroughly believe that.  But still, you, or I do anyway, have to be able to talk to and be enteratined by the person you are with.  So, looks aren’t anything.

But still, a little concerned, and my mind forming a picture of a 5 foot 5 round, shrew looking guy, I turned to Google.  I typed in ‘barack obamas speech writer.’  Then I sat back and giggled.

“What?” Zach’s voice floated over his cubicle.

“Oh. Nada.  Just that I am so  marrying this kid…” I peered around to see if our boss was around, and when I saw it was all clear, “He’s fucking gorgeous, Zach.  I would definitely take him home.”

Zach was behind my chair in an instant, needing to see what a guy had to look at in order to get me to say something like that.  He huffed again.  “He’s gay.”  Was all he said and then went and sat back down. 

Well, for my three days (three days is my run time on an idea before I forget about it and move on to the next thing, or drop everything and go through with it) I teased Zach about it and mentioned to one or two other people that I had found my self a boyfriend.  One of those people was Marcus, who occasionly wrote for a column called Politico. 

Today, Marcus mentioned to me that my boy may be in town.  ‘My boy?’

‘yeah’  he typed. ‘obamas boy.  his speech writer.’

I was hooked again.  I had kind of forgotten about him. I mean, when something obviously isn’t going to happen, you usually drop it and move on to more realistic things.  But he reminded me that I wanted to marry this kid, and when I found out that he would be in Grand Junction, I found myself disappointed again.

Grand Junction is about 4 hours West, through mountains.  My car, vex, has been in a pissy mood, and last time I tried to go West to go camping, she quit on me at the last exit of Idaho Springs.  I had to spend a night in a Crystal Meth filled city; or so the state trooper warned us when he dropped us off at a ‘clean’ hotel.   So, I had no car and no girlfriends to go roadtrekking with me out to Grand Junction to see if we could catch a glimpse of my president and my fantasy boyfriend.

I laughed with Jake about it on our way out.  “Would you really have gone up there?” he asked.

I shrugged.  ”No.  But it would be cool to meet the kid.  Just to see.  But dreams are dreams. And you know me.  I like the idea of an adventure and a funny tale. What more ridiculous story than one that starts with me chasing a guy I have never met?”

He nodded. “Besides,” I had to add to keep my facade up, “I’m never getting married.”

“Yeah,”  Jake said shaking his head.  “I know.  But yet, you still have an idea of what you would want to marry huh?”

“Chyeah.” I scuffed.  “The guys I’ll never really meet.  The ones that seem great in my head….”  I flashed him a wide grin. “You think that means I have issues?”

“More than you know.”  

I laughed with him, and was still giggling when I got to my car.  jake has gotten to know me well over the past 10 months.

SOTD 8-10-09

I got a text from joe last night.  It said my apology was accaepted, but he learned alot about me; he was more disappointed than mad. 

And there it was. The jab I knew I’d probably get.   Which is fine.  But I don’t understand it.  He learned alot about me?  Please.  He and Marcus always do that.  When I do something- common- they criticize.  Say they expected more from me.  They are disappointed in me. 

I felt like texting Joe back, in fact I still am tempted to do it, and tell him he didn’ t learn anything he didn’t already know.  He and I have joked about my past relationships, and my flings, and my flightiness.  He knows I’m capable of anything.  Yet, both seem to keep me on a pedestool in their heads.  I’m like that princess child who can’t do anything wrong, and then when I do, they are so shocked by it.  What’s even worse is the fact they know I’m not innocent.  They know I’m not perfect.  They know I fuck up alot. 

So, why, when shit happens, do they seem so- disappointed?  As if they expect better? 

Maybe it’s because they truly do expect better from me.  They know I have been better; I used to be better.  But, I’ve told them, and showed them, several times over that I am not that person anymore.  Shit happens and it changes people.  You harden your heart.  You swallow you tears.  And whatever else that was.  And you find other ways of surviving.    I’m a survivor.  That’s what I do.  And I have been good at it.  But survivor’s can’t be saints.   And I never claim to be.   

I am glad he accepted my apology.  I am glad he was more disappointed than mad, I guess.  But if he has fooled his head into thinking I am better than that, he’s silly.  I just really hate that.    I can’t seem to shake them from it either.  No matter how many times I hit a line, no matter if I take a crazy weekend and try shrooms, no matter if I have one-night stands, no matter if I run from state to state.  They just don’t get it…

Maybe I should like the fact that they expect more from me.  It means they have some kind of faith in me, right?  Which is nice.  And maybe one day I’ll come back around.  I’ll grow up again.  But let well enough alone for now.  I’ve told them before they shouldn’t expect anything from me.  I had hoped they had actually heard that, but apparently not. 

At least Joe gets it now.

SOTD 8-6-09

THE AFTERMATH

There had to be a follow up, right?

Well, there is.

I spent the sunday in the airport waiting for my plane and running through the nights events in my head and feeling like a dog.  Wow, did I feel like a Jackass.  I left my date to fuck a random guy.  I did a lot of writing and ignoring the situation for several hours and when I got back home, it was late.  I was exhausted and had to be up in 3 hours for work. 

So Monday, my brain couldn’t do much mulling…so, I left it to my people.  I had sent them texts on Sunday, alluding to the story, but I hadn’t felt like talking about it.  Monday, I was tired and numb enough for story telling. 

I relayed the whole weekend to Jake and Matt.  They both laughed and shook their heads.  “Classic.”  matt chuckled.  “You would.”

“I did!!”  I reminded him, the sheepishness evident in my voice.  He laughed again, then told me about his weekend.  He almost slept with a buddies fiance.  “Jesus,”  I said, standing to head back to my office area, “We were both THOSE people this weekend huh?”   He laughed and nodded.  It makes me feel a little better though, that someone can see the back-ass-ward humor in what I did.

As I walked down the hangar, (I work in an airplane hangar that houses helicopters) I ran into Jake and just shook my head at myself.  I had gone through the story with him when we had gone to lunch.  He smiled as he matched pace with me and told me it was ok.  Not to be so hard on myself.  It happens.  Weddings are perfect situations for it, and in fact, it’s just about expected. However, he had made sure to specify the next day when we went to lunch, that I was going to lunch with him, and asked could I please not leave with someone else….yeah, he’s funny…

The day was over and Jake and I were headed back to my apt complex to go play in the pool.  I had really just wanted to go home and go to bed, but somehow Jake had convinced me to swim.    We swam for a while in the pool, then, when the thunder and lightening came, we hightailed it to the hot tub. (Don’t ask.  Jake and I have gone chasing a tornado before.  There may be something wrong with us.  That, or a lack od self preservation.  Or, I guess even maybe a smugness that we are invincible.)

I was shaking my head at myself again and Jake jumped at the cheer-up.  “You’re single.”  he reminded me.  “You can do that. …It could have been worse. 

“Yeah,” I murmered, “It could have been the groom.”

Jake cracked up laughing.  “Could have been the bride.”  he added.  I laughed.

“Ehh, that might actually have been acceptable.  They probably would have liked that.”  We sit in the hot tub and watch the storm blow over and exchange comments and laugh.    At some point Ilook up at jake at tell him how Waseem gave me his number on the way to the airport.  “Maybe he thought he was being polite or that I actually wanted it, but I really wanted to ask if he was doing that as a courtesy.  I mean really. What?   Why would I call him?  He lives in San Jose and I’m in Colorado…and it’s not like I wanted to date the kid.  It’s called a one night stand for a reason.  Let it go at that, dude…is that wrong?”  Jake laughed again, saying no it’s not wrong and offered some more colorful comments. 

When we get back to my apt, we sit on the balcony and play songs that fit my stupid action; promisuous girl, Instant Pleasure, Paper Planes (the whole ‘already going to hell, just pumpng that gas’ line fit) and She Wants It…as well as a few other randoms.

Tuesday, we drank beers and had a blame-storming session.  “Well, he shouldn’t have left your side,”  Jake noted.  “if he knew you at all, he’d know you need to be entertained, or you’ll entertain yourself.”

“Which I did.  Indeed.  He knows I need a leash.  You let me run unsupervised, of course i’m gonna find some kind of trouble.”

“No Doubt.  How could you leave a girl on her own at a wedding.  I mean, that’s asking for another guy to swoop in.”

“Yeah.  Especially when I looked damn good.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself…”

I shot him a look.  We laughed more and made up more reasons why I couldn’t entirely shoulder the blame.   And it was fun, but, I still felt like a schmuck.

It’s a little different for Jake though.  He’s gay.  And, well, promiscuity is a little more, tolerated, I guess, maybe even expected.  Although he totally understood, it was still different.  I still had a guilty conscious.  Even those Coronas  Tuesday didn’t apease my mind.

Wednesday came and went.  I sent Joe a half assesd apology to test the response; there was none.  Thursday hit.  And I had questions.  What, exactly was Joe so pissed about anyway.  That I had ditched him as a date?  Or that some other guy had beat him to the punch?   I mean, I had heard that his one and only question was; did he sleep with me? 

What business was it of his?  And what right did he have to ask?  I mean, maybe if he was worried about me being extrmemely slutty and sleeping with two guys in one night…but that’s just ridiculous.  And if he was worried about that, he didn’t have to sleep with me.  He could have just spent the night with me.   I mean, granted, he prolly wouldn’t want to be in a used bed, but the point is, what was his motive and what is the extreme of his anger?

All I really know is that I pissed off a good friend with some reckless, classless, stupid behavior.  I dont know when he will decide to talk to me next. And I don’t know if it will be kind words ( I doubt it).  But, either way, I’d take it back if I could.  But fuck, if I could go back and change things, I’d just not have gone.  That’d be best.

And, although it wasn’t right, I am not seeing the complete and total wrong of it.  Was it really that bad that I deserve the silent treatment for a week or more?

I’ve been run through the theory that Joe has had ideas that it was really a date and that he holds out on the possibility that we may still get back together.  And, well, in fact, he admitted that to me during the one actual conversation he and I were able to have at the wedding.   But, if he is showing his emotions as anger, which is typical Joe, that’s just foolishness.  He really should know better.  I know I have mentioned it before, but there is no going back to that.  No chance of getting back together. 

I don’t understand why he doesn’t get that I’m cold.  I don’t have emotions like other people, and I have no desire what so ever of holding out for true love, or a love lost and come back.  It’s fairy tales.  And I don’t have time for it.  I just want to live life.  Not alot of people understand me.  But, if they don’t get it, then please just stand back.  I can’t be caged, and tied down.  I can’t be expected to wait, and be patient, and hold my time for others right now.  Opportunity knocks, and I take it.  I don’t intentionally hurt people.  Especially not friends.   But c’mon.  You can’t have crazy expectations either. In fact, it’d be best if you just don’t expect any thing at all from me.  That way, I won’t let you down.

SOTD 8-6-09

The Wedding

I guess really it should be the story of the weekend; but since the whole thing has occupied my head to the past several days, it’s not a bad place to start and pick up again.

So, Joe, a good friend/ex-boyfriend that i have known now for nealry 10 years, invited me to one of his friend’s weddings.  The first of a ridiculously tight-knit group of guys to get married.  (Their intimate circle is truly something to be envied…I admire it. Always have.)   But, so yeah, Joe asks me to go as his date.  And i agree.

But as time goes on and we get closer to this wedding, i start to get a feeling.  My feelings are usually pretty on.  They aren’t specific, but when i’ve felt unsafe or worried, there always has proved to be a genuine reason.  I even highly considered just calling joe and telling him I really didn’t have the money to do this trip; the wedding was out in San Jose and i needed to get my own hotel room for 2 night because joe was in the bridal party and they were all staying in another hotel.

I really should have just cancelled…

I was even worried enough begin coniving the possibilities  of bringing along a friend.  One that, had a drug dog been at the airport, would definitely get me arrrested.  But, at least it would have kept me clear headed, cool and calm.

Maybe I should have tried that…

So, Friday night goes off with out a hitch.  We go to dinner, go out to a bar, and I go home.  But, I get an idea how things are going to be. Joe is busy with bridal party stuff, and all his boys are gathered in one spot again.  They are having a good time and I am kind of left to entertain myself, which is fine, because I’m good at that.  In fact, Friday night, I had left the bar for an hour or so for a walk on the beach by myself.    And I hadn’t seen much of joe that night.  In fact, it was mostly Paul I was hanging out with, and whos company I enjoyed.  Hmmm, I wonder where Paul was Saturday?

Saturday was the wedding day.  The wedding day doesn’t go so well. 

I take that back.  The wedding day went just fine; as usual though, when the sun goes down…

I bought a nice, new, bright yellow dress for this wedding.  One that, despite the fact I still thought I could use a little more kickboxing sessions, I still looked pretty good in.  And, again, Joe had his wedding party stuff, an open bar, and his boys around.  They are an intimidating group all together.  I’ve only been able to relax and completely be myself around just a few of them.  And it’s only after I’ve had isolated time with them.  And, even then, it’s only maybe 4 out of like 10 of them, at least.   I’m actually pretty insecure, not much of a people person, bothere by crowds, and, so, combine those elements and I am apt to find the least populated place and just chill by myself.

And that’s what I did.  I hung with Paul and some of the others for a bit.  Made a friend or two with some girls, which is rare as well.  I was proud of myself.  I was being as social as I am capable, drinking moderatley, and entertaining myself while Joe did his thing.  He and I have usually been very capabe of doing that and then coming back together at the end of the night. 

Not that night though….

As I was haning out with a small group, some guy approached me and introduced himself  as Waseem.  I was instantly amused by his name.  And, he was able to go wit for wit with me, keep the sarcasm and the onlines coming.  He was fun.  And, in the midst of our banter, my other small group had wandered away.  So I talked with him till it was dinner time.

Then I found Joe, ate dinner, hung out a bit, and, at some point, wandered away again and found Waseem once more.  I have no idea where Joe was, and I had no desire to go hunting.  I’ve changed alot.   

When Joe and I were together, it was a new thing for me; this whole love stuff.  I was eager to please and was happy to wait for him at parties, was quick to overlook things I didn’t like, and his faults didn’t bother me so much. I was in love. But of course there were things that just weren’t right for me.

These past several years, since he and I have established a solid frienship, everyone always asks me if I will get back with him, and my answer, to everyone is always the same.  I love Joe to death, but I love that he is someone else’s problem, or, at the least, not mine.  I don’t want responsiblity for him, and he is a hard person fo me to love in a relationship. No. Joe and I will never get back together. 

And even though Joe was planning on spending saturday night with me in my hotel room, i had doubts about things.  The first doubt was whether or not anything beside cuddling would occurr.  I wasn’t feeling any physical attraction and was contemplating just pulling the ‘I’m on my period’ line with him so I didn’t have to sleep with him.

Also, I doubted very much if I would even be in the mood for that by the time we actually made it to my hotel; if he actually made it.  Chances are (I’m not a gambler at all, but i would have put money on these chances) that he would be out too late and way too drunk.  I would prolly have left the bar several hours before he would have and been passed out in my king size hotel bed by my self again.

But I guess I’ll never know.

Short story shorter; went to go back to my hotel room to change out of my dress and get the wine stain out of it, and waseem offered to come with.  Got to my hotel room, made a phone call or two to my second family asking how to get red wine staings out, followed those directions, changed into bar clothes…and then i was out of them and in bed with Waseem.  Not entirelt sure the details on the inbetween  (and, on the good change i’ll be lectured on this comment, that friend that couldn’t go through the airport would have kept that part clear.  And, most likey, would have kept it from happeneing)

The first question rumored out of joe’s mouth when we did make it to the bar was for Waseem, once he had got him cornered alone.  Apparently he asked if he [slept] with me.  And that was that.  Joe walked away from me when I approached him and only text me later that night to tell me I was classless; which was why he didn’t speak to me.   And I haven’t heard from him since. 

Needless to say, waseem came back that night with me and I used him for a ride to the airport the next day.