Old Flame

Today is one of those days where I just want to stay home and indulge my lazy side.  Most unfortunate for me, I took the day off yesterday, which left me at the office and craving my bed and slippers... and let's face it a couple of motrin all day.

I really had a fantastic weekend. Exhausting, but still fantastic.  I had the ultimate dinner party Saturday with some close college friends, their hubbies, and a few kids.  My little house was packed, and my dogs and I were loving every minute of it.  Sunday was spent tearing it up on the golf course.  And literally, I mean tearing it up.  My golf game is atrocious, but having played only once or twice a year, can I really expect any better?  I figure the way I play, I get my money's worth.  So the day off yesterday was perfect timing... until I woke up this morning, but who could have predicted that.

So Friday seemed promising as well.  I had a date, with my guy.  As socially inept as he seems, I still hold out hope.  We had a good time, but I left with a familiar feeling... underwhelmed.  He wasn't invited Saturday, because I wanted to enjoy myself.  And sad but true, his presence would not have allowed that.  So last night, after my fantastic day playing hooky, I joined the guy again.  We have this inexplicable ritual of watching the same horribly bad tv show together each week.  There came a point last night, where I felt as though this relationship which we had somehow forged, had become a complete sham.  I'm trying to be more direct and express myself in this relationship.  I ask fair and legitimate questions, and we're not talking anything completely probing or revealing.  But I am simply amazed how I get absolutely no response.  Either completely ignored or the subject changed.  I feel as though he's just being polite.  He's over this relationship, but continues to humor me to avoid the uncomfortable break-up conversation.  How long could he possibly allow this continue?  The scarier thought to me is that he thinks this relationship is working.  While I was at his place last night, I saw the gift I gave him... still unopened... love tokens still undiscovered.

My mood today had been unshakable.  Nothing like being trapped at the office and physically beaten down.  I was left alone most of the day to listen to my ipod and wallow in my funk.  It was after 5 and my grand exit was in sight, when I got the email that brightened my day.  My old flame, the one that broke my heart so many years ago, had suggested a trip to Paris.  When? was all I could think.  This is our thing.  We talk about making this trip that we'll never make, but every time it comes up, it always makes me smile.  Today was no exception.  It's been quite some time since we've actually chatted, and I'm craving his charm.  I think I just might top off my glass of wine and pick up the phone.

Dream a little dream

It's a rainy Thursday afternoon.  I'm cozied up on the couch and thinking to myself  I have really worked the system today and I'm loving every minute of it.  Over the last week, I have really been trying to improve my morning arrival time at the office... I'm usually a 9 o-clocker.  So I roll my sleepy-eyed self out of bed and typically peruse the internet for a couple of minutes while I wake up.  To my surprise this morning, I received an email saying a couple of on-line purchases were to be delivered today.  I had a hot date with UPS guy, and his timing couldn't have been better.  I used this opportunity to sneak out of the office at lunchtime, while I wait, and wait, and wait for him to arrive.  I needed this quality couch time.  I'm not sure if it's the effects of almost another full work week gone by or just the effects of last night's happy hour, but today, saying I am dragging is an understatement.

So about last night.  A friend of mine and I took our old boss out for drinks to celebrate his birthday.  We do this... often... well, not the birthday part, but drinks definitely.  We make quite the interesting threesome.  We all still work at the same company, where he's still a VP and my friend and I aren't quite there yet.  We drink and carouse and carry on highly inappropriate conversations.  He gives us career advice, we give him career advice.  He gives us relationship advice, we give him relationship advice.  He flirts with us shamelessly, we flirt with him shamelessly... have I mentioned he's married, with kids?  We're not.  These happy hours are always entertaining, and last night certainly didn't disappoint.  For some added intrigue, I had to relay to him the dream I had the night before.

Are we all dreamers?  In theory yes, but not all of us have that knack of remembering them when we wake.  In fact, if you were to ask me, I'd say I dream maybe once a year.  That's as often as I remember them.  Usually, when I have a dream, it's more like a nightmare, which often wakes me up in the middle of the night, and coincidentally, I find that I have to go to bathroom, so the timing of the nightmare couldn't have been more convenient.  Would I classify this particular dream as nightmarish?  That's debatable.  Do you consider making out with your boss a nightmare?  Perhaps, I should start at the beginning.  So the dream begins with aforementioned VP showing me his boat, which apparently he has one.  This is a sizable Atlantic cabin cruiser that has been conveniently relocated to a local lake.  Somehow, the tour of the boat leads to frolicking in the water.  Romantic except that at some point, the frolicking turns into him drowning me.  He's keeping me submerged just below the surface, and appears to not realize that this is a problem.  At some point during my struggle, I wake up... then head to the bathroom.

When I head to work yesterday, the dream is still fresh in my mind.  I could barely compose myself when, to my surprise, he appears in an early morning meeting and sits down next to me.  At the happy hour, he later admits to checking out my ass as I walked passed him to head back to my desk.  Nice.  Late morning, he calls (work related), but casually asks before hanging up if we're still on (speak of the devil, he just called me).  The whole conversation seems very illicit to me.  I was joking with my friend, who was threatening to ditch us for a date, that she shouldn't leave me alone with him.  I was in a strange mood that day, and after a couple of beers, might wind up making out with him in the parking lot as he subtly tries to shove me in front of a train.  She did leave us early last night, and he did walk me to my car.  But alas, I was not in a dream, my feet were firmly planted on the ground, so I proceeded to bid him goodnight and head on home.  Did I think about doing otherwise?  That's a given.  I often have, but I'm pretty sure I would never act on any of it.  My friend, being the good friend that she is, gave me a mental image that has ruined him for me forever.  Nothing like the ill-appeal of a pair of boxer shorts and sock suspenders to kill the mood.  I did say she was a good friend, didn't I?

Our reputation proceeds us

Twice in the last 24 hours I witnessed a site that perpetuates the woman driver stereotype.  A moving vehicle with the hatch to the gas tank ajar, and in one instance, the gas cap was tangling from the car.  And of course, the first thing I thought to do was check the sex of the driver... female, of course.  What takes the cake is the siting this morning, where not only was the hatch ajar, but the child in the back seat was clearly not wearing a seat belt.  These women give us a bad a name, but I wonder... is it our own fault?  My theory, due to my recent experiences, is that we are so distracted by our day to day goings-on, that we can't be bothered by such mundane things as that hatch, or gas cap, or totally ridiculous and overreactive seat belts.  Actually, I'm almost embarrassed to admit that recently I drove away from the pump completely before realizing I forgot to tell the machine that NO, I do not want a receipt!  So what do I do?  Throw the car into reverse, back up to the pump, and complete my transaction.  At least I was mindful enough to return the gas tank to its proper capped and closed position.  There was another occasion, the weekend before last, where I found myself in the same quandary, but this time I couldn't be bothered to throw the car into reverse... I was late to brunch.  A girl has her priorities.  So what is preoccupying us all?  My personal theory is the additional burden that all members of the female population bear because the men in our lives are incompetent... physically, mentally, emotionally, any combination thereof.  We are bearing more than our fair share of responsibilities with no offering of assistance.  Take me for example, I've got my job, my home, my three-ring circus of pets that I am just about comfortable handling on my own, but now I've got this completely draining relationship that I'm single-handedly sustaining.  All I left at the pump was a useless piece of paper.  Think of these women that are managing all of this plus a gaggle of children.  So, the next time you see a car cruising around with an open gas tank, don't judge!  Unless, that car belongs to me... especially, if it looks anything like this one.  In that case, pull me over and have me committed because that means the guy has driven me to insanity!

It is better to give than to receive

Isn't that how the saying goes?  I am certainly not questioning it.  I do believe it.  There is nothing like making someone happy to warm the soul.  Perhaps it's not the actual act of giving that really creates this feeling, but realizing the appreciation that person has for you.  So where is this commentary coming from?  

Flashback to Friday afternoon.  I actually receive a somewhat endearing email about 3 pm from the guy asking me if I'd care to join him for dinner that evening.  He's somewhat planning ahead, and since I shamelessly ditched him on V-Day, I'm inclined to say yes.  I make it through the boat-rocking afternoon (perhaps the ill-effects of the Benedryl) and head home.  He calls me on his way home, and we discuss plans.  He's very sweet and concerned for my fragile state, but still manages to get me to agree to driving down to his place.  Logistically, it just made sense, and I was itching (no pun intended) to get out of the house.  Despite my cynical outlook for this relationship and my scattered mental state, I had actually managed to pull together a very charming gift for him: a bottle of champagne (his favorite) and some love tokens good for hugs, kisses and other sundry things.  As much as I hate this holiday, I think I did quite well.  I grab the gift, leave the dogs loose (bad idea), and head out.

When I arrive, I let myself in, find him in front of the computer (no surprise), and present him with the gift.  He reads the cute little card I had attached, admires the festive wrapping job, then places the bottle down on the desk.  That's where it stays.  He never discovers the tokens, at least not in my presence.  So, this is where the giving and receiving comment comes in.  He has nothing for me, which to be completely honest, is completely expected.  Every now and then I find myself being optimistic about life, not my natural tendency, but events like this really just squash it like a bug.  So no gift for me, OK, he's been busy this week.  That could be a plausible excuse.  When it comes time to head out for dinner, he asks me to pick a place.  Are you kidding me?  Again, he puts the burden on me.  He hasn't planned a damned thing.  I defer since this is his neighborhood, but eventually we agree on one of my ideas.  Figures.  We head to dinner, then home to watch a movie.

If I think about how I feel when his attention is entirely focused on me, I get that warm fuzzy feeling.  But the problem is, I rarely feel like I've got his undivided attention.  That's how all of these pessimistic sentiments start creeping in.  It doesn't help that my friends, who have a somewhat more objective view of the situation, don't have great things to say about him either.  I can't decide if he's as uncaring, unappreciative, and disinterested as he often seems, or if it's just me reacting to him.  I'm hitting that self-preservation phase, and really, that can't bode well for him, all gift-giving aside.  So when I leave his place, I don't have that warm fuzzy feeling that keeps me smiling the whole way home.  Instead, I feel empty and can only think about what kind of gifts the dogs have waiting for me.

V-Day: Post Mortem

This is the beginning of what will hopefully be an indulgently lazy weekend.  It's one of those days where it's dark and rainy outside, and the couch is quite possibly the coziest place on earth.  I couldn't even be bothered to get dressed before making an absolutely necessary trip to Starbucks this morning.  I rolled up in my PJ's, hair thrown up in a sloppy ponytail, and slippers on my feet.  They do have a drive thru after all, and really, who am I trying to impress.  

So what happened to me two days ago (V-day for those counting)?  I did in fact spend the evening alone, but by choice and definitely not crying.  After my late morning freak out, I proceeded to return to the office only to feel myself deteriorating as the afternoon went by.  By mid-afternoon, I couldn't take it any longer.  I had to leave, which I did, and head straight to Walgreen's.  Apparently, I have a food allergy.  I was experiencing those classic signs: tingling, itching face, throat feeling like it's closing up.  I couldn't get the Benedryl in me fast enough.  In fact, I didn't make it out of the parking lot before popping a couple of pills.  Once I made it home, I called my friend to bow out of the play.  Her husband was once again going to have to suffer through that estrogen-fest.  I proceeded to hit the couch, dogs running amok everywhere, and crash.  I was just about in a deep sleep, when the phone rang.  It was 5, and of course, an appropriate time for the guy to call and ask me out to dinner.  Are you kidding me?  I told him I was in dire straights and needed my sleep, and that I'd call him back after my nap.  I have my priorities.  Post nap, I call him back and dinner talks unfold.  I have to decline.  I'm worn out and completely content to stay in my PJ's on the couch.  He makes an inappropriate joke about how I ruined his plans... he had bought flowers and chocolates, and made a reservation at a great restaurant... all a joke.  He's sick, and not in the physically ill sense of the word.  I call bullshit on him.  I know he's done no such thing, then he lays the burden back on me... because I hadn't made any plans either.  Seriously???  As my one good, male, friend said... THAT'S HIS JOB!!!!!!!!!  I get off the phone, none too quickly I'm ashamed to admit, then order up some greasy Chinese food and cozy up to watch Hello Dolly, one of my guilty pleasures.

V-Day: early lunch

The drama continues.  I believe I am losing my mind.  I just had a complete freak out moment at the office, which is why I am now home scouring the fridge and pantry for sustenance.  Why didn't I buy real groceries at the store last night?  I have managed to turn a little hunger and light headedness into just about a full on panic attack.  I though I was on the verge of passing out, and my current basket case state nearly pushed me over the edge.  I was shaking, my heart was racing, and my vision was fading.  I was ready to check myself into the ER.  What is my problem?  Why am I completely overreactive and completely unstable these days?  This is not normal, but then again, what is anymore.

V-Day: mid morning

The latest development. I have a hot date tonight. Whew, I won't be spending this evening crying alone with the dogs and evil cat. Except that my hot date is with my friend, and we're going to watch a play. Steel Magnolias... no, I won't be at home crying. Instead I will be crying in a crowded theater. Perfect. No word from the guy. He hasn't miraculously developed social graces. Who am I kidding. At least if he were to call, I'm really, truly busy. Somehow I don't feel comforted by that thought.

V-Day

A term often used to commemorate military victories and more recently associated with a movement to end violence against women has the great fortune, or misfortune, of representing the day much hated by single women everywhere.  So much for that movement to end violence.  Valentine's Day is just that... emotional violence against women.  I'm not so sure it limits its ill effects to just singles, but this is merely speculation.  I declare that I am in fact one of those victimized singles.  Even though I have been dating someone for four months now, V-Day has managed to make me an emotional basket case once again.  I have a tendency in relationships to steer the ship, keep things moving, always doing the calling or suggesting.  As my Dr. Phil-esque friends would say, not allowing the guy to pursue me.  This is the exact behavior that led to my first real heartbreak, which still haunts me to this day.  I've learned to recognize this pattern, and as soon as I feel as though I'm not being met half way, I start to pull away.  Self-preservation I call it.  That brings me back to today.  I have spoken to said guy, specifically not called my boyfriend, once this week (it is Thursday am).  There has been no mention of V-day.   And so, the drama of the day will now begin to unfold. 

Oh, the thinks we can think

For the inaugural post to this blog, I must admit one thing.  I am such an incompetent communicator, that I have gone and created an "anonymous" blog, simply so I can express all the things I think but never seem to be able to say.  What's amazing to me is that I developed this neurosis in my youth but have managed to overcome it on at professional level, at times to my detriment, but not on a personal level.  My keen ability to express myself at the office has on occasion earned me a reputation of being difficult to work with, uncooperative, argumentative, generally speaking, a bitch.  It's been many years since I've earned this reputation, and just a couple of years since I've been able to escape it.  See, what I've learned is there are times when it is absolutely critical that I keep my thoughts to myself.  I am reminded of what my mother always used to preach "If you don't have anything nice to say, then don't say anything at all."  But it's not events at the office that prompted me to start this blog.  It's my personal life, and my inability to express what I need, what I want in my current relationship.  So perhaps through expressing my thoughts here, I will be able to do so in real life.  Be prepared to witness the train wreck.