As much as I would like to think I'm never at fault, occasionally (very occasionally) I make the wrong move. I am, as my friend Melissa says, "the destroyer." I take perfectly good relationships and somehow find a way to run them into the ground. I push people away - boy, am I ever good at that! - because I don't want to bother them with my problems. I want to be the fun one!, the happy one!, the positive one!, but it isn't possible to do that all the time. Sure everyone has their off days, but my last minor breakdown was poorly timed.
Maybe I haven't been completely honest, so don't hold it against me, but I have someone in my life that is pretty special. I talk to him about everything and I haven't been this comfortable being myself around someone in, well, ever. He's sweet and kind, even when he doesn't have to be, especially when I do my whole "I don't need you" dance. I've been playing it cool, because that's what I do, but it just feels inauthentic. I want to word vomit my feelings all over Mr. Wonderful, but I'm trying (albeit rather unsuccessfully) to keep all my thoughts to myself.
I totally offended him this weekend. I was having a bad day, shut down and took it out on him. He was trying to be there for me and I took it for granted. Now, he doesn't want to talk to me because I'm a big ol' dummy. Great. What's worse is that he's actually a great friend and I probably ruined that too. I could have just said, "You know, I'm upset, but I'm not ready to talk about it," but I didn't - because I'm an idiot. I was so distracted by the situation that I locked my keys and purse in my trunk, then had to wait 2.5 hours in the CVS parking lot for Pop-A-Lock. Yay on that.
At which point in my adult life did I become so complicated? I used to be breezy and now I'm a pool of dark, muddy water. I keep running things over in my head, because I'm a girl and I fixate. I'm fixating now - can you tell? Why does it take something like running someone off to bring me back to reality? It's possible that everything will blow over, right?
Gah. I need a Diet Pepsi, stat.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Friday, April 27, 2012
If I Were a Boy
I ran again yesterday, on a different trail in a different part of the city, but the results were pretty much the same. During the hour I was out there, huffing and puffing, I had some time to think about how things would be easier if I was born a boy. I mean, they really would. I know ladies are hard to understand, so maybe I'm being biased because I'm a girl and I understand me. All I want is to have someone think of me as important and make time for me - there's no mystery there. I'm sure I could figure it out if I were a dude, because I think I'd be a sensitive, artsy type and the girls would swoon.
Know that I have no desire to actually BE a guy, but I know that if I were a boy version of me, I would be a catch. Think about it: I own my own car, I have a good, steady job, I'm good with kids, I'm sweet, I'm complimentary, I'm tall, I have a good relationship with my parents, I'm not hairy, I can sing well, I play the guitar, I love Jesus, I have good friends, I'm sociable, I'm funny, I can deal with crying, I don't pick fights and I love animals, just to name a few things. I'd basically be Ryan Gosling, minus the beard and questionable fashion choices. I would be in high demand if I were a boy.
But, I wasn't born a boy. I am girl and I am a dork. I send pictures like this to the guy I'm smitten over:
Yes, I did actually send this. I made the sign, took the picture and sent it. Where were you to stop me? After the text went out, I groaned. "Gah! You're a complete moron. *headdesk*"
If I sent a picture like that to a girl, she would die of cuteness overload. You send a picture like that to a guy and he, well, he probably groans too.
Surprisingly, he liked it. I guess my dorkiness has won at least one person over - and my favorite person no less. Yay on that.
Know that I have no desire to actually BE a guy, but I know that if I were a boy version of me, I would be a catch. Think about it: I own my own car, I have a good, steady job, I'm good with kids, I'm sweet, I'm complimentary, I'm tall, I have a good relationship with my parents, I'm not hairy, I can sing well, I play the guitar, I love Jesus, I have good friends, I'm sociable, I'm funny, I can deal with crying, I don't pick fights and I love animals, just to name a few things. I'd basically be Ryan Gosling, minus the beard and questionable fashion choices. I would be in high demand if I were a boy.
But, I wasn't born a boy. I am girl and I am a dork. I send pictures like this to the guy I'm smitten over:
 |
| What a nerd-o. |
Yes, I did actually send this. I made the sign, took the picture and sent it. Where were you to stop me? After the text went out, I groaned. "Gah! You're a complete moron. *headdesk*"
If I sent a picture like that to a girl, she would die of cuteness overload. You send a picture like that to a guy and he, well, he probably groans too.
Surprisingly, he liked it. I guess my dorkiness has won at least one person over - and my favorite person no less. Yay on that.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Running Is a Four Letter Word
Over the past three years or so, I started really running. Now, I want to make it clear that I do not like running. Running, in return, does not like me. This girl is not made for running. I am made for stationary activities, like being the catcher on the softball team or crocheting or blogging. I keep running though because its a healthy activity, gets me out of the house and because I look good in running clothes. (Also because I can brag about running - don't act like you don't do it too.)
To the point of today's story - one of my friends told me that I was missing some not-so-obvious places where I could meet men. (Sidenote: Did you know that single men frequent sports bars? I had no idea, but thanks, pal, for letting me know that one. *insert sarcasm here*) She told me that there were all kinds of single dudes running all over certain parts of the city. All I needed to do was go to one of those places, attempt not to run like someone was chasing me or like I was having a seizure and surely I would see some good candidates.
Going to any place, even just the park, just to parade around in hopes that maybe some guy would notice me isn't appealing to me at all. I wouldn't normally even consider it as an option, but I decided when I started writing this thing I was going to try things I hadn't done - you know for research. Yeah, that's it. It had nothing to do with the hundreds of attractive, shirtless men that jog around the most popular trails in the city. Nothing to do with that. At all.
Yesterday after children's choir at church, I decided I would go to one of these hotbeds and see what there was to see. What ended up happening wasn't pretty. I guess in all my planning, I didn't realize how aggressive some of these runners are. There are a few people who are like me, running for the sake of exercise, but there are some INTENSE, hardcore runners out there. If you know me, you know I'm competitive and so I ended up running way faster than I'm used to because I was trying to prove myself.
Here's an important fact: when I really workout I turn red. Like, bright red.
So, here I was running like I was on fire, turning the color of a human beet, sweating - which caused my mascara to start running and gasping for breath. Woo! What a treasure I must have looked like, huh? I probably resembled a sunburned raccoon, racing away from a predator.
In the middle of all this, there was a guy who I passed, then passed me and I eventually passed again. My brain finally switched on - hello! He could be flirting! He could like the sunburned raccoon look! Get it together girl!
He started pulling away from me, so I naturally picked up my pace. I kept up for a while, even though all the air was being sucked from my lungs and my brain was beginning to suffer from oxygen deprivation. He looked back a couple of times and I did the whole, "I'm not looking at you, I'm looking though you" thing. At this point, my body was saying "STOP! We can't do this anymore! Don't you remember we had Long John Silver's for lunch!?!!"
Then my hip gave out. I had to stop cold and stretch it and away went the Running Man.
So long, Running Man. Thanks for the memories.
To the point of today's story - one of my friends told me that I was missing some not-so-obvious places where I could meet men. (Sidenote: Did you know that single men frequent sports bars? I had no idea, but thanks, pal, for letting me know that one. *insert sarcasm here*) She told me that there were all kinds of single dudes running all over certain parts of the city. All I needed to do was go to one of those places, attempt not to run like someone was chasing me or like I was having a seizure and surely I would see some good candidates.
Going to any place, even just the park, just to parade around in hopes that maybe some guy would notice me isn't appealing to me at all. I wouldn't normally even consider it as an option, but I decided when I started writing this thing I was going to try things I hadn't done - you know for research. Yeah, that's it. It had nothing to do with the hundreds of attractive, shirtless men that jog around the most popular trails in the city. Nothing to do with that. At all.
Yesterday after children's choir at church, I decided I would go to one of these hotbeds and see what there was to see. What ended up happening wasn't pretty. I guess in all my planning, I didn't realize how aggressive some of these runners are. There are a few people who are like me, running for the sake of exercise, but there are some INTENSE, hardcore runners out there. If you know me, you know I'm competitive and so I ended up running way faster than I'm used to because I was trying to prove myself.
Here's an important fact: when I really workout I turn red. Like, bright red.
So, here I was running like I was on fire, turning the color of a human beet, sweating - which caused my mascara to start running and gasping for breath. Woo! What a treasure I must have looked like, huh? I probably resembled a sunburned raccoon, racing away from a predator.
In the middle of all this, there was a guy who I passed, then passed me and I eventually passed again. My brain finally switched on - hello! He could be flirting! He could like the sunburned raccoon look! Get it together girl!
He started pulling away from me, so I naturally picked up my pace. I kept up for a while, even though all the air was being sucked from my lungs and my brain was beginning to suffer from oxygen deprivation. He looked back a couple of times and I did the whole, "I'm not looking at you, I'm looking though you" thing. At this point, my body was saying "STOP! We can't do this anymore! Don't you remember we had Long John Silver's for lunch!?!!"
Then my hip gave out. I had to stop cold and stretch it and away went the Running Man.
So long, Running Man. Thanks for the memories.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Idle Hands Do the Devil's Texting Work
I'm usually an advocate of texting. It's an easy form of communication for short things - pick up this at the store!, are you here?, here's the address - and it's usually how I talk to people now (except when I'm driving, of course). But could there be anything worse than trying to date in the age of texting? I think not.
When I send a text to a friend, I don't care when or if I get one back. When I send a text to a guy, I watch the phone like it's going to do some sort of magic trick. Every time a phone within ear shot goes off, I'm checking my screen to see if it was me, even though it obviously wasn't. (Did it just buzz? I thought I heard it buzz!) I hate the whole thing because I, friends, am impatient. If you just texted me a second ago, what is taking so long to send back a response to my witty comment?!? <- See? Crazy! *le sigh*
Oh, the agony of waiting for a response! After 10 minutes of no communication, I'm reasonable and think "Oh, he's busy, right?" After 20 minutes, I'm a little less reasonable. "He's busy" turns into "He's ignoring me. Did I say something wrong?" When 20 minutes turns into an hour, I'm dying. "What did I do? Am I that awful? I'm an idiot. I'm being stupid, right? Yeah, I'm being silly, but really he probably thinks I'm a weirdo dumdum who smells." (I have a lot of internal dialogue; I really hope that's normal.)
I tend not to text first, at least in the initial phases. I know this seems counterintuitive, but it's how I do it. (Sidenote: A friend's husband once told me that "eager beats pretty," so maybe I should rethink my texting policy.) Once I actually text first, I spend some time concocting what I consider to be the perfect text. Breezy! Light! Funny! I'm a fun girl! Just checking in, no pressure! Then I send a text out into the universe and it's gone. It hangs out in the air space while I die a slow death caused by the anticipation of a response. Oh, Tom Petty, you were right - the waiting is the hardest part.
When I send a text to a friend, I don't care when or if I get one back. When I send a text to a guy, I watch the phone like it's going to do some sort of magic trick. Every time a phone within ear shot goes off, I'm checking my screen to see if it was me, even though it obviously wasn't. (Did it just buzz? I thought I heard it buzz!) I hate the whole thing because I, friends, am impatient. If you just texted me a second ago, what is taking so long to send back a response to my witty comment?!? <- See? Crazy! *le sigh*
Oh, the agony of waiting for a response! After 10 minutes of no communication, I'm reasonable and think "Oh, he's busy, right?" After 20 minutes, I'm a little less reasonable. "He's busy" turns into "He's ignoring me. Did I say something wrong?" When 20 minutes turns into an hour, I'm dying. "What did I do? Am I that awful? I'm an idiot. I'm being stupid, right? Yeah, I'm being silly, but really he probably thinks I'm a weirdo dumdum who smells." (I have a lot of internal dialogue; I really hope that's normal.)
I tend not to text first, at least in the initial phases. I know this seems counterintuitive, but it's how I do it. (Sidenote: A friend's husband once told me that "eager beats pretty," so maybe I should rethink my texting policy.) Once I actually text first, I spend some time concocting what I consider to be the perfect text. Breezy! Light! Funny! I'm a fun girl! Just checking in, no pressure! Then I send a text out into the universe and it's gone. It hangs out in the air space while I die a slow death caused by the anticipation of a response. Oh, Tom Petty, you were right - the waiting is the hardest part.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
You Make Me Promises, Promises
Way back in December a dude I know expressed an interest in dating me, even though I was still dating my boyfriend (henceforth known as E-Mail Man). At the time, I had absolutely no interest in this kid that extended beyond the way the fact I was in a relationship. This guy is a creeper to the nth degree - I've seen him in action and it is way disturbing. There is a fine line between being persistent and being a weirdo and homeboy took it waaaay over the line to Creepytown.
Anyway, McStalkerson started to ramp up his efforts in late January. Heavily. When I say heavily, I mean he would text me all day, call often and would just hang out places I frequent. He called and invited me to dinner at his parents house for his mother's birthday. He told me he bought me a Kindle for Valentine's Day. He told me that he wanted to take me on a trip to Costa Rica, because his family had a house there. Now, I made it clear that I didn't really want anything with him, but I thought the whole thing was funny. He was making all these promises to me about what we would do when I was free of E-Mail Man, about how he would "treat me right" and how much fun we would have together, blah, blah, blah.
About 2 weeks into the intense pursuing, it just stopped. Cold. No texts, no calls, no random run-ins at Mission Burrito, no nothing. I thought McStalkerson had finally caught on to the fact that I was a no-go. Then I got an email from him.
*Minor tangent* What is with men these days using e-mail to communicate their feelings? This seems to be a running theme with the guys in my life these days. Can't you just pick up the phone and call me? *End tangent*
The email stated that he had found somesucker woman who was nice, kind, pretty, smart (read: better than you, Jeana) and he was VERY happy with her. He just wanted me to know, so that I wouldn't have any bad feelings toward him because of what we had. (Um, what exactly did we have weirdo?) Also, he hoped maybe this would teach me a lesson about waiting too long to make a decision, because good men don't just wait around. Well, okay. Thanks for that lesson McStalkerson, duly noted.
About a week after E-Mail Man ended things, I happened to hear from McStalkerson. He wanted to know how I was doing and he just happened to have become single recently (*cut to me, looking unsurprised*). I told him I was single now too and he said he was really sorry to hear that, but that I would find someone! We could hang out without weirdness now! We could go to dinner! Get drinks! We could finally go to Costa Rica! Yay!
After hanging up, I haven't heard from McStalkerson, save the drunk texts I got from him on a random Tuesday night. He is the kind of guy who wants what he can't really have and when it's available, he doesn't want it! He feels about me the way I feel about Crystal Clear Pepsi.
And here I was packing my bags for Costa Rica...
Oh - and I've never seen that Kindle. I'm waiting, McStalkerson.
~j
Anyway, McStalkerson started to ramp up his efforts in late January. Heavily. When I say heavily, I mean he would text me all day, call often and would just hang out places I frequent. He called and invited me to dinner at his parents house for his mother's birthday. He told me he bought me a Kindle for Valentine's Day. He told me that he wanted to take me on a trip to Costa Rica, because his family had a house there. Now, I made it clear that I didn't really want anything with him, but I thought the whole thing was funny. He was making all these promises to me about what we would do when I was free of E-Mail Man, about how he would "treat me right" and how much fun we would have together, blah, blah, blah.
About 2 weeks into the intense pursuing, it just stopped. Cold. No texts, no calls, no random run-ins at Mission Burrito, no nothing. I thought McStalkerson had finally caught on to the fact that I was a no-go. Then I got an email from him.
*Minor tangent* What is with men these days using e-mail to communicate their feelings? This seems to be a running theme with the guys in my life these days. Can't you just pick up the phone and call me? *End tangent*
The email stated that he had found some
About a week after E-Mail Man ended things, I happened to hear from McStalkerson. He wanted to know how I was doing and he just happened to have become single recently (*cut to me, looking unsurprised*). I told him I was single now too and he said he was really sorry to hear that, but that I would find someone! We could hang out without weirdness now! We could go to dinner! Get drinks! We could finally go to Costa Rica! Yay!
After hanging up, I haven't heard from McStalkerson, save the drunk texts I got from him on a random Tuesday night. He is the kind of guy who wants what he can't really have and when it's available, he doesn't want it! He feels about me the way I feel about Crystal Clear Pepsi.
And here I was packing my bags for Costa Rica...
Oh - and I've never seen that Kindle. I'm waiting, McStalkerson.
~j
Monday, April 23, 2012
Google Maps Is Apparently Hard to Use
I went out with some friends on Saturday and decided to invite this guy I've been chatting with for a little while. I thought, what could be a better first hangout time than getting together for a fun night with some cool-ish people?
A little backstory on this guy first - he's not stupid, but he's definitely not going to be accused of being the smartest person anyone's ever met. Can I just mention here how much of a jerk I feel like saying that? I probably will regret writing that actually. (By the way, the air up here on my high horse is very nice.) He's kind of a meathead; in fact, let's call him Meathead. Meathead is also quite a bit younger than I am. Anyway, Meathead is seems really sweet and nice, so I stopped looking down my nose at him and gave him a chance to prove me wrong.
It might be worth mentioning here that he's rather...attractive. (Don't judge me.)
So, I (after swallowing what little pride I have left and wringing my hands for about an hour) invited him and he actually said he thought that would be fun. Yay! I wasn't rejected. I was getting excited to have a nice hang out time with this guy and even started mentally planning my attire for the evening, then the most curious thing happened. Meathead asked where we were going and I gave him the name and location of where we would be. Then, after about a half hour, Meathead said he didn't know about going because he "didn't know where" the place was.
I'm sorry, what? Okay. I know that when you haven't been to a particular place before, it can be confusing, but this person works with computers. COMPUTERS. AND THE INTERNETS. I didn't know that pulling the map for some place was such a complicated task. Meathead did ask me if maybe we could to hang out instead, on his side of town because he wanted to see me, but I politely declined. I mean.
Oh Meathead, you're trying to impress me right now, you know? A little effort, like MapQuesting, never hurt anyone.
A little backstory on this guy first - he's not stupid, but he's definitely not going to be accused of being the smartest person anyone's ever met. Can I just mention here how much of a jerk I feel like saying that? I probably will regret writing that actually. (By the way, the air up here on my high horse is very nice.) He's kind of a meathead; in fact, let's call him Meathead. Meathead is also quite a bit younger than I am. Anyway, Meathead is seems really sweet and nice, so I stopped looking down my nose at him and gave him a chance to prove me wrong.
It might be worth mentioning here that he's rather...attractive. (Don't judge me.)
So, I (after swallowing what little pride I have left and wringing my hands for about an hour) invited him and he actually said he thought that would be fun. Yay! I wasn't rejected. I was getting excited to have a nice hang out time with this guy and even started mentally planning my attire for the evening, then the most curious thing happened. Meathead asked where we were going and I gave him the name and location of where we would be. Then, after about a half hour, Meathead said he didn't know about going because he "didn't know where" the place was.
I'm sorry, what? Okay. I know that when you haven't been to a particular place before, it can be confusing, but this person works with computers. COMPUTERS. AND THE INTERNETS. I didn't know that pulling the map for some place was such a complicated task. Meathead did ask me if maybe we could to hang out instead, on his side of town because he wanted to see me, but I politely declined. I mean.
Oh Meathead, you're trying to impress me right now, you know? A little effort, like MapQuesting, never hurt anyone.
The Beginning After the End
A month or so ago I was broken up with in a email. Yes, I said it - an email. I knew that the end was nigh, but after a year and a half I thought that maybe we would have some kind of conversation about it. Nope. I was Berger-ed (check your Sex and The City references here). No call, no show. An email and that was it.
Huh.
After being sad for approximately one day, I came to the realization that I had grieved about as long as I should under the circumstances. Why be sad when I could get busy being awesome? (Now all I need to figure out is how to be awesome.) I threw myself into hanging out with friends, kept busy with school and distracted myself from the fact that I was alone again.
I'm not so good single. I get dopey and nervous and wonder if I said something wrong and become this blithering idiot, but something about this time is different. Maybe it's because I'm older. Maybe it's because I know myself better. Maybe it's because I am completely dead inside now.
Whatever it is, I decided I'm going to go out on many, many dates and write about how all of those turn out. I might just meet the guy who I'll make miserable for years to come right away, but chances are I'll have to date a load of turds before I find that guy and you get to hear all about it. Lucky you. Welcome to my journey of a thousand lifetimes...or what feels like lifetimes.
After being sad for approximately one day, I came to the realization that I had grieved about as long as I should under the circumstances. Why be sad when I could get busy being awesome? (Now all I need to figure out is how to be awesome.) I threw myself into hanging out with friends, kept busy with school and distracted myself from the fact that I was alone again.
I'm not so good single. I get dopey and nervous and wonder if I said something wrong and become this blithering idiot, but something about this time is different. Maybe it's because I'm older. Maybe it's because I know myself better. Maybe it's because I am completely dead inside now.
Whatever it is, I decided I'm going to go out on many, many dates and write about how all of those turn out. I might just meet the guy who I'll make miserable for years to come right away, but chances are I'll have to date a load of turds before I find that guy and you get to hear all about it. Lucky you. Welcome to my journey of a thousand lifetimes...or what feels like lifetimes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)