I agreed to go out with the sweaty guy again. On a hot day. To the botanical garden. He has allergies.
This sounds irrational but it was actually well thought out because all I want to do is see/touch/kiss/fall in crazy love with Foreigner 2.0.
Sitting in Sweaty’s girly convertible, wandering through the budding spring blooms, riding the shuttle filled with 812 Asian children, consuming a cheeseburger topped with onions is not conducive to French kissing. I was right. He kept his tongue in his mouth. Thank you Jesus.
It truly was a gorgeous day with Dallas and White Rock Lake in the background. Afterwards we went balcony chilling and enjoyed some food and beer. I was highly paranoid I would somehow run into the object of my obsession…my brand new grey haired European. Totally irrational because I am pretty sure he was on a plane flying back from the West Coast.
So while my date seemed fully engaged in me and our planned activity, my mind was off daydreaming about rocket man. Fluctuating between precarious melancholy and a feverish anxiety.
Why am I not here with him?
Why are there so many beautiful girls in Dallas?
Why am I so old?
I will never be happy.
Etc.
And then I would think about our date…
It was my 32nd birthday. I walked into that Mexican restaurant 5 minutes late and there he sat at the bar. With a glass of water and looking down at his phone. Tilt, tilt, tilt goes the world’s axis. Pounding. Oh god it’s the best feeling in the world. That date that lasts 6 hours. For me it is the best drug in the universe. The romance dance. The flirting. The talking. The guessing. Does he like me too? I think he likes me…maybe?
He said “Look at me Jess – you can get 2 pieces of cake”. I had my head down studying the choices and just couldn't decide between the chocolate Kahlua or Tres Leches. I looked up into his eyes and lost feeling in my body. I melted into a malleable gift for him to do with what he saw fit. And oh boy did he ever.
We were there for 3+ hours. The wait staff kicked us out. He invited me to a bar for one more beer. I think the fire department could have called and said my house is burning down and I would have ignored the call and followed him to that dark booth. I felt like the most beautiful girl in the world (I get it Rhianna, I really do).
We talked about politics, films, travel, books, and he quoted fucking Noam Chomsky. He told me I have beautiful eyes…so blue and those cheekbones. He told me how he brought his daughters to see Santa in the North Pole. Seriously? Skiing in France. Really? I wanted to leap across the table and bite his lips when he started in with his views on idealistic free market socialism. Do you want me to take me clothes off right here? Because if you don’t stop, I will.
I made him laugh with stories of AK-47’s and refrigerators and Cindy Lauper. Yes, I drove away from Duluth to start my new life in Texas listening to Time After Time. So what?
He smells so good. Spicy.
He is animated when he talks. He kept leaning closer and closer with his hands until they touched mine. And I desperately held on with my pinky finger. Let go. And then the hands come back again and again until they are finally fully holding mine. Rubbing my arms. Oh the goose bumps and that warm, slow sashay of physical desire that wells up from the belly.
And then he kissed me. With such force and passion and need. And I saw stars. Before the seeping green tea with blood orange was even cool.
Will I see him again? Unlikely. But heaven help me, it was a perfect fucking birthday. Most people go through their entire lives and not experience a night like that. I have been blessed to have reveled in several. In that moment I am utterly alive, every nerve and emotion vibrating. I may not be built for marriage but I sure can rejoice in my ability to feel transcendent lust.
I think this pretty much sums up my complete indifference about nice sweaty guy.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
Definition of Insanity
I just did the math. It has been 20 years since my first real kiss. I am ANCIENT. And the pattern has repeated over and over again since I was 12 years old.
That first kiss ended with the boy running. Literally running away from me. Down the stairs, out the door, and onto his bicycle. I tried to run after him. Nothing has changed since that warm autumn evening nearly 2 decades ago. The boys running away these days usually don’t have their sneakers on and their Trek bike waiting outside so their escape plan is usually a more covert affair…with the same end result. Me standing there with tears in my eyes, my hair askew, and an overwhelming urge to find them and scream WTF.
(In months to follow I ended up chasing this particular boy down the street with a knife (long story). At least that wasn’t a pattern to I chose to replicate.)
Now I have done my share of running. I usually find the architectural blueprints of any bar, restaurant, public park, stadium, house, etc that I may be trapped in with any potential suitor. How can I get out if I really want to? Really need to? Plenty of men have loved me or at least thought they did and I decided to turn away, shut down and never answer my phone again. I have done it with such cruelty that it makes me weep for my now terrible karma.
BUT I have had my heart broken in wicked, bone crunching, molecule altering ways. Sometimes I become terrified (and sometimes relieved) that it may be too late to share my life with someone. My secrets, pain and darkness are too deep to ever fully reveal to another person again. The stakes are too high to open up my heart to another person, let love in, become vulnerable only to have hot lava poured over my soul when they don’t want me anymore. I don’t know how many times my heart can re-grow from a hardened molten rock.
I keep picking the broken boys. The beautiful boys. The rich and interesting artistic boys. The fucking smart boys I can never really have. Out of my reach. Or the boys so full of pain and confusion that I want to wrap them up in my arms until they feel ok. But they never feel ok. And then I resent them. They disrupt my schedule, my routines, my life that looks extremely squared away when you are just looking in my windows. Not so much when you open the door and come in. Most don’t ever get past the entryway.
Why can’t I just fall for the nice boy? The boy who emails my mom. The boy who brings me chocolate. The boy who brings my dog toys? The boy who doesn’t care that I am a crazy, cranky bitch who tends to veer toward the negative and push them away with all my might. And they still fight for me?
I probably reject them because they love me. There must be something very, very wrong and undesirable about them to make them settle for me. So I hate them for their kindness and realness. Sad.
Or maybe I reject them because I want it all. I want the guy with the accent who reads 3 books a week. The guy with money who orders my food at the restaurant and then feeds it to me. The guy who opens up my car door. The guy who can play 5 instruments. The guy with the bed like a cloud and super white sheets. The guy who can discuss politics and religion and has traveled the world. The 6’4 guy with women hanging off him like Christmas lights. The guy with passion for his career bursting from his gorgeous, rock hard chest. Like the Dos Equis guy. The most interesting man in the world. All the rest of them are boring.
But I ain’t the most interesting girl in the world. Far from it. So I want these men because I can’t have them. Is it simple human nature or is it because they are safe? They won’t ever get past the entryway because they don't even visit my neighborhood.
That first kiss ended with the boy running. Literally running away from me. Down the stairs, out the door, and onto his bicycle. I tried to run after him. Nothing has changed since that warm autumn evening nearly 2 decades ago. The boys running away these days usually don’t have their sneakers on and their Trek bike waiting outside so their escape plan is usually a more covert affair…with the same end result. Me standing there with tears in my eyes, my hair askew, and an overwhelming urge to find them and scream WTF.
(In months to follow I ended up chasing this particular boy down the street with a knife (long story). At least that wasn’t a pattern to I chose to replicate.)
Now I have done my share of running. I usually find the architectural blueprints of any bar, restaurant, public park, stadium, house, etc that I may be trapped in with any potential suitor. How can I get out if I really want to? Really need to? Plenty of men have loved me or at least thought they did and I decided to turn away, shut down and never answer my phone again. I have done it with such cruelty that it makes me weep for my now terrible karma.
BUT I have had my heart broken in wicked, bone crunching, molecule altering ways. Sometimes I become terrified (and sometimes relieved) that it may be too late to share my life with someone. My secrets, pain and darkness are too deep to ever fully reveal to another person again. The stakes are too high to open up my heart to another person, let love in, become vulnerable only to have hot lava poured over my soul when they don’t want me anymore. I don’t know how many times my heart can re-grow from a hardened molten rock.
I keep picking the broken boys. The beautiful boys. The rich and interesting artistic boys. The fucking smart boys I can never really have. Out of my reach. Or the boys so full of pain and confusion that I want to wrap them up in my arms until they feel ok. But they never feel ok. And then I resent them. They disrupt my schedule, my routines, my life that looks extremely squared away when you are just looking in my windows. Not so much when you open the door and come in. Most don’t ever get past the entryway.
Why can’t I just fall for the nice boy? The boy who emails my mom. The boy who brings me chocolate. The boy who brings my dog toys? The boy who doesn’t care that I am a crazy, cranky bitch who tends to veer toward the negative and push them away with all my might. And they still fight for me?
I probably reject them because they love me. There must be something very, very wrong and undesirable about them to make them settle for me. So I hate them for their kindness and realness. Sad.
Or maybe I reject them because I want it all. I want the guy with the accent who reads 3 books a week. The guy with money who orders my food at the restaurant and then feeds it to me. The guy who opens up my car door. The guy who can play 5 instruments. The guy with the bed like a cloud and super white sheets. The guy who can discuss politics and religion and has traveled the world. The 6’4 guy with women hanging off him like Christmas lights. The guy with passion for his career bursting from his gorgeous, rock hard chest. Like the Dos Equis guy. The most interesting man in the world. All the rest of them are boring.
But I ain’t the most interesting girl in the world. Far from it. So I want these men because I can’t have them. Is it simple human nature or is it because they are safe? They won’t ever get past the entryway because they don't even visit my neighborhood.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Online Dating - 2nd Edition
Ok, I am going to commit to doing this for real this time. Write about my dates. Yes, I am back at it again. Seems exceptionally stupid after I just reread the blogs that I had posted. So here we go.
Date #1 - He did not look like his pictures. I got out of my car and he was standing there with a plant in a plastic bag. All I could think was darn it...can't I just take the plant and run? And he seemed so little. And he brought me to a shitty sports bar. I got a little tipsy and it gave me a headache. I inexplicably have seen him a few times since. Playing CatchPhrase in his garage is not a good time.
Date #2 - Floor seats at the Mavs with a good looking doctor. Enough said. But he didn't try to kiss me in his car when dropping me off at the valet and he hasn't called me since. Clearly I am not as hot as I used to be.
Date #3 - did not happen because he left me terrible voice mails and a text that included calling me "CLASSLESS COMPLETELY CLASSLESS" Yes, in all caps and spelled incorrectly. I am sure he kicks his dog for fun.
Date #4 - so sweaty and nervous. Him, not me. I ate an entire Chimmechanga and didn't even feel bad about it. His sweaty armpits, hair and coughing attack was even less sexy than my 1500 calorie consumption. We are going to look at tulips and listen to jazz this weekend. I don't know why.
Date #5 - so sweaty and nervous. Me, not him. Knocked my socks off. And made my mascara run from laughter. The rest of the makeup was kissed away. Grey haired, hazel eyed foreigner 2.0. I'm fucked. More later.
Date #1 - He did not look like his pictures. I got out of my car and he was standing there with a plant in a plastic bag. All I could think was darn it...can't I just take the plant and run? And he seemed so little. And he brought me to a shitty sports bar. I got a little tipsy and it gave me a headache. I inexplicably have seen him a few times since. Playing CatchPhrase in his garage is not a good time.
Date #2 - Floor seats at the Mavs with a good looking doctor. Enough said. But he didn't try to kiss me in his car when dropping me off at the valet and he hasn't called me since. Clearly I am not as hot as I used to be.
Date #3 - did not happen because he left me terrible voice mails and a text that included calling me "CLASSLESS COMPLETELY CLASSLESS" Yes, in all caps and spelled incorrectly. I am sure he kicks his dog for fun.
Date #4 - so sweaty and nervous. Him, not me. I ate an entire Chimmechanga and didn't even feel bad about it. His sweaty armpits, hair and coughing attack was even less sexy than my 1500 calorie consumption. We are going to look at tulips and listen to jazz this weekend. I don't know why.
Date #5 - so sweaty and nervous. Me, not him. Knocked my socks off. And made my mascara run from laughter. The rest of the makeup was kissed away. Grey haired, hazel eyed foreigner 2.0. I'm fucked. More later.
Monday, February 15, 2010
15 Reasons I Hate February
1. Cold, snow, ice
2. Valentine's day
3. Spending Valentine's day alone
4. Spending Valentine's day alone stalking Mr. Ex on Facebook and finding a picture
of him snuggling with his new girlfriend who looks like the offspring of a Real Housewife of Orange County who mated with Skeltor. Waaaaa!!!
5. Spending Valentine's day WITH A COLD (snotty nose and a cough), alone, and stalking ex boyfriends on Facebook
6. Working like a crazy fool, weekends included without a pay raise
7. Getting an assistant to help with my massive work load (positive) but having to train her on how to help me (SUCKS!)
8. My step grandma died...she was a really cool lady
9. Contemplating life and death and worrying I am wasting mine away. Alone.
10. Next month I turn 31. How the hell can that be happening? I need to pay better attention
11. Not being able to sit in my comfy chair on my balcony and smoke 27 cigarettes after work while bitching on the phone to my best friend about how much Feb sucks. I have to sit inside and bitch because it is so fucking cold - not as fun
12. Working like a crazy fool while my bosses are off on tropical islands somewhere...yes, I am allowed to be jealous
13. Dirty cars, dirty dog, dirty house. It really shouldn't snow in Dallas. Didn't I move from MN to get away from this shit?
14. Getting really tired of wearing pants and tights to work...I want to wear summer skirts already! Come on sunshine!
15. Missing yoga for 2 weeks because of work and sickness = gaining weight and worrying about bikinis that I so want to wear soon
13 more days left if I can survive this awful month.
Pic taken end Feb of 09 - this gives me hope but I still hate February:
2. Valentine's day
3. Spending Valentine's day alone
4. Spending Valentine's day alone stalking Mr. Ex on Facebook and finding a picture
of him snuggling with his new girlfriend who looks like the offspring of a Real Housewife of Orange County who mated with Skeltor. Waaaaa!!!
5. Spending Valentine's day WITH A COLD (snotty nose and a cough), alone, and stalking ex boyfriends on Facebook
6. Working like a crazy fool, weekends included without a pay raise
7. Getting an assistant to help with my massive work load (positive) but having to train her on how to help me (SUCKS!)
8. My step grandma died...she was a really cool lady
9. Contemplating life and death and worrying I am wasting mine away. Alone.
10. Next month I turn 31. How the hell can that be happening? I need to pay better attention
11. Not being able to sit in my comfy chair on my balcony and smoke 27 cigarettes after work while bitching on the phone to my best friend about how much Feb sucks. I have to sit inside and bitch because it is so fucking cold - not as fun
12. Working like a crazy fool while my bosses are off on tropical islands somewhere...yes, I am allowed to be jealous
13. Dirty cars, dirty dog, dirty house. It really shouldn't snow in Dallas. Didn't I move from MN to get away from this shit?
14. Getting really tired of wearing pants and tights to work...I want to wear summer skirts already! Come on sunshine!
15. Missing yoga for 2 weeks because of work and sickness = gaining weight and worrying about bikinis that I so want to wear soon
13 more days left if I can survive this awful month.
Pic taken end Feb of 09 - this gives me hope but I still hate February:
Thursday, January 21, 2010
And the Sun Still Shines
Positive thinking, feeling, hoping, dreaming...that is my goal for 2010.
I have spent way too much time focused on the negative the past 10 years and maybe my whole life. I forget about all the small things that I am so lucky to have in my life.
My health, my good, secure job with ample opportunity to grow, financial stability and security, nice apt to come home to every night, people who support and love me, ambition, yoga, ability to travel, freedom to be me, freedom to choose the next path in life, looking more like 25 than 30 years old, living in a city with some amazing stores and restaurants, an awareness that everyday is a special gift and I am damn grateful to be alive. I really am.
Some of my favorite things: Basil, Patricia Cornwell book, Andrew Wyeth art book, freaking DIET COKE, fresh flowers...just thinking about sitting on that couch makes me take a deep breath and relax...
only one favorite thing missing: Kohler, my angel kitty
See how lucky I am!
I have spent way too much time focused on the negative the past 10 years and maybe my whole life. I forget about all the small things that I am so lucky to have in my life.
My health, my good, secure job with ample opportunity to grow, financial stability and security, nice apt to come home to every night, people who support and love me, ambition, yoga, ability to travel, freedom to be me, freedom to choose the next path in life, looking more like 25 than 30 years old, living in a city with some amazing stores and restaurants, an awareness that everyday is a special gift and I am damn grateful to be alive. I really am.
Some of my favorite things: Basil, Patricia Cornwell book, Andrew Wyeth art book, freaking DIET COKE, fresh flowers...just thinking about sitting on that couch makes me take a deep breath and relax...
only one favorite thing missing: Kohler, my angel kitty
See how lucky I am!
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Never Say Never & Wet Cat Food 30 Days Later
Mr. Ex aka Mr. Wrong yet soooo want him to be Right called me yesterday. Called ME. Called me on the PHONE. Called my cell phone. Yesterday afternoon while I was at work.
I heard the familiar ring and dug around in my purse to find that little beat up green phone thinking it was my mom calling to talk about her remodeling project. Oh no. I saw his name and had a true out of body experience. I stared at it for a second as my life flashed before my eyes before I hit talk. “Hello JessEca dis is…” Holy moly. I almost fell off my chair. I started shaking and sweating. I am certain he could hear my heart pounding on the other end of the line. I thought he was calling about something bad. Perhaps a tragedy with one of his friends or maybe he is being deported back to Eastern Europe. But no. He called to CHAT. CHAT! Like I haven’t spent the last month crying, wailing, praying, hibernating…trying to get over him. Thinking about him 58 times per day. Driving thru the parking lot of the bar where we first met and staring at his car. Angry, sad and alone. Going to our favorite Chinese restaurant alone at a table for two and chewing on my fortune cookies with such visceral lonliness that my jaw hurt.
Could almost feel him in the chair next to me. Touching his jeans and feeling his hard, beautiful leg against mine. Telling me that my eyes are so beautiful…they sparkle.
He asked me questions. About what I did for New Years and Christmas. Told me everything he has been up to. I didn’t know what to say. I was so trying to play it cool. Not to stutter or scream. I divulged nothing. He asked about my animals, my family. I wanted to burst. Exploding inside. He went on an on about his job and what he has been doing. Said he was calling to thank me for the lawyer I put him in touch with. Ok. Said his divorce is final. What the hell dude? WHY? Why did you call me? To torture me? To totally fuck up my Tuesday afternoon?
He said he wanted to respond to my email that I wrote exactly a month ago but he didn’t feel comfortable writing back to my work email. He said I shouldn’t use my work email for private matters. TOLD me not to do that anymore. WHO IN THE HELL DOES HE THINK HE IS? Telling me to do anything?
He asked me to send him my personal email address and to stay in touch. Is he going to respond to my email NOW? NOW! Stay in touch! This made it all feel real again. Not like the dream I worked so hard to compartmentalize in my mind and heart.
I blame it on the cat food. The night I met him I had a case of rotten cat food in my trunk. I bought it from Super Target and Lord did it stink. One of the cans must have opened during shipment and I didn’t realize it until it was in the trunk of my car. I was worried people would walk by and think I was Casey Anthony. I bought a case of cat food yesterday for the first time since then. Stupid cans of Iams gourmet Salmon filet.
In the profound words of Blue October:
So just pick your head up and
Walk away
Walk the coolest walk that you know
In a month or two the bitch will call you
You got to
Hang up the phone...
I heard the familiar ring and dug around in my purse to find that little beat up green phone thinking it was my mom calling to talk about her remodeling project. Oh no. I saw his name and had a true out of body experience. I stared at it for a second as my life flashed before my eyes before I hit talk. “Hello JessEca dis is…” Holy moly. I almost fell off my chair. I started shaking and sweating. I am certain he could hear my heart pounding on the other end of the line. I thought he was calling about something bad. Perhaps a tragedy with one of his friends or maybe he is being deported back to Eastern Europe. But no. He called to CHAT. CHAT! Like I haven’t spent the last month crying, wailing, praying, hibernating…trying to get over him. Thinking about him 58 times per day. Driving thru the parking lot of the bar where we first met and staring at his car. Angry, sad and alone. Going to our favorite Chinese restaurant alone at a table for two and chewing on my fortune cookies with such visceral lonliness that my jaw hurt.
Could almost feel him in the chair next to me. Touching his jeans and feeling his hard, beautiful leg against mine. Telling me that my eyes are so beautiful…they sparkle.He asked me questions. About what I did for New Years and Christmas. Told me everything he has been up to. I didn’t know what to say. I was so trying to play it cool. Not to stutter or scream. I divulged nothing. He asked about my animals, my family. I wanted to burst. Exploding inside. He went on an on about his job and what he has been doing. Said he was calling to thank me for the lawyer I put him in touch with. Ok. Said his divorce is final. What the hell dude? WHY? Why did you call me? To torture me? To totally fuck up my Tuesday afternoon?
He said he wanted to respond to my email that I wrote exactly a month ago but he didn’t feel comfortable writing back to my work email. He said I shouldn’t use my work email for private matters. TOLD me not to do that anymore. WHO IN THE HELL DOES HE THINK HE IS? Telling me to do anything?
He asked me to send him my personal email address and to stay in touch. Is he going to respond to my email NOW? NOW! Stay in touch! This made it all feel real again. Not like the dream I worked so hard to compartmentalize in my mind and heart.
I blame it on the cat food. The night I met him I had a case of rotten cat food in my trunk. I bought it from Super Target and Lord did it stink. One of the cans must have opened during shipment and I didn’t realize it until it was in the trunk of my car. I was worried people would walk by and think I was Casey Anthony. I bought a case of cat food yesterday for the first time since then. Stupid cans of Iams gourmet Salmon filet.
In the profound words of Blue October:
So just pick your head up and
Walk away
Walk the coolest walk that you know
In a month or two the bitch will call you
You got to
Hang up the phone...
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Last Christmas
Last Christmas, I gave him my heart
The very next day, he gave it away (it actually took 6 months but still)
This year to save me from tears
I will give it to someone special (already did and FAILED)
My God, I thought he was someone to rely on
Me? I guess I was a shoulder to cry on (about his fiancee - wtf was I thinking)
Last Christmas
This year won't be anything like, anything like
Last Christmas.
It was only a year ago...feels like at least 5. And to think I thought I was in love with this farm boy for the past 6 years. Last Christmas gave me the gift of closure and reality. Painful but now much appreciated. I still hope he has a shitty Christmas this year.
As for me?
Hey, maybe I'll learn to sew
Maybe I'll just lie low
Maybe I'll hit the bars
Maybe I'll count the stars until dawn
Me, I will go on
Lord, it's like a hard candy Christmas.
The very next day, he gave it away (it actually took 6 months but still)
This year to save me from tears
I will give it to someone special (already did and FAILED)
My God, I thought he was someone to rely on
Me? I guess I was a shoulder to cry on (about his fiancee - wtf was I thinking)
Last Christmas
This year won't be anything like, anything like
Last Christmas.
It was only a year ago...feels like at least 5. And to think I thought I was in love with this farm boy for the past 6 years. Last Christmas gave me the gift of closure and reality. Painful but now much appreciated. I still hope he has a shitty Christmas this year.
As for me?
Hey, maybe I'll learn to sew
Maybe I'll just lie low
Maybe I'll hit the bars
Maybe I'll count the stars until dawn
Me, I will go on
Lord, it's like a hard candy Christmas.
