Perhaps, I should be keeping a more complete list of my e-harmony frustrations. Though that could get depressing and discouraging.
My bitch for today -- if you pay all this money to sign up and you actually start responding to someone, see it through!
More than once, I have received a match, and gone back and forth through the first few steps with a person. And then...nothing. I wait. And I know people have lives, and they might be away, or not able to go on-line for a few days. But then weeks go by, and nothing.
The latest perp in the long list of guys not following through: Binghamton Dan.
When last we left him, we had successfully completed the first three stages of communication. Next? He was to write me an e-mail. I waited. And then, he decided to put the match on hold because he was "unsure."
Today, he has closed the match, giving the reason of "other." What the fuck? If you're going to go through with this thing, with this on-line dating, give it 100%. Don't race through the steps and suddenly stop just short of the finish line.
Men are really disappointing me lately. Just when I thought there was a little bright spot, BAM, it starts to rain again.
Sunday, October 16, 2005
It's All About Family
Why does the weekend always go so quickly? A moment ago it was 10am on Sunday morning, and I was thinking that a nap was in order, that I had the whole day to do whatever I wanted. Suddenly its almost dark out and work is inching closer and closer. At least it is a three-day week for me (yeah!), as I have Thursday and Friday off and am going to Richmond for a long weekend, with an overnight in Baltimore next Saturday to see Wanda.
I went to Syracuse yesterday for the day -- spent a lovely day with my niece and great-nephew. My parents met us at Ryan's "kiddie gym." They were fairly well-behaved, though Fran tried to have a conversation with me about Sue.
"Sue and Frank had to drive to Albany yesterday for a wedding."
"So."
"And they have a ball to go to tonight."
Silence from me.
"For Make a Wish."
More silence.
"Her firm is sponsoring it."
I looked at her, wondering if she was going for a world record on getting "So" as a response from every statement she made -- or if she was that dense that she thought I cared. Apparently my look worked. She stopped talking about them.
*Sigh* I try not to be mean to my mother on purpose. Especially after she gave us money for lunch, and me her credit card to go shopping with. And sometimes I feel like such a bitch, but really -- can she get over the Sue and Frank thing already?
Jenny and I went to the mall -- and it was a good visit. I've been feeling a disconnect between us, and I was worried and uncomfortable about it. And there are times when I hear her stress about her life, and I don't understand. I want that kind of stress -- the kind that comes with a husband, a baby and a house. But when we were together yesterday, I understood better. She has a husband, a baby and a house -- and she doesn't always feel like she's doing it right. But she is. She's doing a great job. And sometimes needs to take a deep breath, but can't because of her 18-month-old demanding all of her attention. And though it makes no difference in the scheme of things or to anyone but me, I feel better about our relationship and understand a little better.
We ate lunch at the food court. And stopped into Gertrude Hawk, with our fake innocence over their everyday samples policy. "Oh you have samples today? Sure, I'll have one. Hmmm...we might to stop on our way out to buy something here." And then of course, we never go back. One smidgen does me good.
And then we shopped. I overestimated my "$100 Fran budget" by $50, but was happy with my purchases -- a pair of corderoy pants (for Ithaca winters on top of the hill), a pleated skirt (both in black for when I start up at BBW at Christmas time and am forced to wear a "uniform" again), two ribbed turtleneck sweaters (blue and pink) and my winter staple, four pairs of black tights.
All in all, a good Saturday in the 'Cuse -- clothes that fit me and a relationship reconnected, got in a birthday visit with my mom (her birthday is today), and spent some time with the baby.
I went to Syracuse yesterday for the day -- spent a lovely day with my niece and great-nephew. My parents met us at Ryan's "kiddie gym." They were fairly well-behaved, though Fran tried to have a conversation with me about Sue.
"Sue and Frank had to drive to Albany yesterday for a wedding."
"So."
"And they have a ball to go to tonight."
Silence from me.
"For Make a Wish."
More silence.
"Her firm is sponsoring it."
I looked at her, wondering if she was going for a world record on getting "So" as a response from every statement she made -- or if she was that dense that she thought I cared. Apparently my look worked. She stopped talking about them.
*Sigh* I try not to be mean to my mother on purpose. Especially after she gave us money for lunch, and me her credit card to go shopping with. And sometimes I feel like such a bitch, but really -- can she get over the Sue and Frank thing already?
Jenny and I went to the mall -- and it was a good visit. I've been feeling a disconnect between us, and I was worried and uncomfortable about it. And there are times when I hear her stress about her life, and I don't understand. I want that kind of stress -- the kind that comes with a husband, a baby and a house. But when we were together yesterday, I understood better. She has a husband, a baby and a house -- and she doesn't always feel like she's doing it right. But she is. She's doing a great job. And sometimes needs to take a deep breath, but can't because of her 18-month-old demanding all of her attention. And though it makes no difference in the scheme of things or to anyone but me, I feel better about our relationship and understand a little better.
We ate lunch at the food court. And stopped into Gertrude Hawk, with our fake innocence over their everyday samples policy. "Oh you have samples today? Sure, I'll have one. Hmmm...we might to stop on our way out to buy something here." And then of course, we never go back. One smidgen does me good.
And then we shopped. I overestimated my "$100 Fran budget" by $50, but was happy with my purchases -- a pair of corderoy pants (for Ithaca winters on top of the hill), a pleated skirt (both in black for when I start up at BBW at Christmas time and am forced to wear a "uniform" again), two ribbed turtleneck sweaters (blue and pink) and my winter staple, four pairs of black tights.
All in all, a good Saturday in the 'Cuse -- clothes that fit me and a relationship reconnected, got in a birthday visit with my mom (her birthday is today), and spent some time with the baby.
Friday, October 14, 2005
I Really Am Mrs. Jeter
I had the strangest dream last night -- and I can't figure out what brought it on. I didn't eat right before I went to bed. I wasn't thinking about any of the people in my dream before I went to bed, or even in the last few days. Weird.
I was pregnant. Very pregnant. Easily eight months along. And I was married to Derek Jeter. And we were at a store, someone stopped him for an autograph. While he was signing, I felt the baby kick. He asked if I was okay, and I said, "she's pretty active today." He stopped mid-autograph to put his hand on my belly.
And then suddenly we were home (it was the house I grew up in -- for whatever reason, lots of my dreams take place in this house) and I was getting ready for a dinner party. Cal Ripken was coming over with my friend who works for him. Neither of their wives came, interestingly enough -- just Cal and John. (I wonder why A-Rod wasn't there. I think he's better friends with Cal than Derek is. Hmmm...maybe we were mad at him for hitting 2 for 17 in the playoffs.)
I made a fabulous dinner -- chicken cordon bleu, some sort of hot veggie, salad, home-made bread, and mashed potatoes. And then creme brulee for dessert. My brother Bob called -- because he's a foamer and he knew Cal was at my house. I told him he could come down for dessert.
And then I woke up. And I was kind of sad that none of it was true. That I wasn't married and that I wasn't pregnant, but mostly that I didn't get to have sex with Derek Jeter.
I was pregnant. Very pregnant. Easily eight months along. And I was married to Derek Jeter. And we were at a store, someone stopped him for an autograph. While he was signing, I felt the baby kick. He asked if I was okay, and I said, "she's pretty active today." He stopped mid-autograph to put his hand on my belly.
And then suddenly we were home (it was the house I grew up in -- for whatever reason, lots of my dreams take place in this house) and I was getting ready for a dinner party. Cal Ripken was coming over with my friend who works for him. Neither of their wives came, interestingly enough -- just Cal and John. (I wonder why A-Rod wasn't there. I think he's better friends with Cal than Derek is. Hmmm...maybe we were mad at him for hitting 2 for 17 in the playoffs.)
I made a fabulous dinner -- chicken cordon bleu, some sort of hot veggie, salad, home-made bread, and mashed potatoes. And then creme brulee for dessert. My brother Bob called -- because he's a foamer and he knew Cal was at my house. I told him he could come down for dessert.
And then I woke up. And I was kind of sad that none of it was true. That I wasn't married and that I wasn't pregnant, but mostly that I didn't get to have sex with Derek Jeter.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
When it Rains, It Pours
Literally. It has done nothing but rain in upstate New York for the past week. And I think we have another three or four days of rain. I guess, it's better than snow!
But on to the reason for my column title. After complaining that I was only getting one match a week....after lamenting that there was no one in Ithaca for me....not only did I receive a match of someone from Ithaca, but within the last day, I received five other new matches.
One "closed" the match almost immediately, citing that he was pursuing another relationship. I almost didn't respond to him initially -- one of his pictures was laugh out loud cheesy, back lit by the sun coming through a patio door and his shirt completely open. But then I said to myself, "Ellie, you're being shallow. Cast that net wide, girl." So needless to say, I wasn't entirely disappointed when he closed the match.
The others look promising -- but I've been here before, so I'm being a bit more cautious. A new Mr. Rochester, 37 and a programming engineer and pictured with his two dogs (wins points immediately for that!). Two new Mr. Syracuses, 38-year-old database manager and a 39-year-old network administrator. A Mr. Baldwinsville (who might as well be in the Mr. Syracuse category), 38 and works as an administrator at a paper manufacturing facility. Currently he and Mr. Ithaca are at phase 3 -- the open-ended questions.
But again, I've been here before. And I'm taking on a more realistic approach -- not getting terribly excited about anything or anyone until a real communication takes place, until an actual phone call, or dare I hope, a date occurs.
The trials and tribulations of being single -- I really hope that all the marrieds say to themselves, at least once a week, "thank god, I don't have to go through that anymore."
**********
A Short Fran Story
God bless her....she e-mailed me and told me to look on the Lane Bryant website, that sometimes they have really good sales on sweaters, that I could find some for $10 or $12, that she would buy me a couple (apparently my whining about not having any clothes worked).
I wrote her back, and hope she took it the right way, I wasn't saying it to be snotty, but...."the whole point of losing weight is so I don't have to shop at Lane Bryant anymore."
But on to the reason for my column title. After complaining that I was only getting one match a week....after lamenting that there was no one in Ithaca for me....not only did I receive a match of someone from Ithaca, but within the last day, I received five other new matches.
One "closed" the match almost immediately, citing that he was pursuing another relationship. I almost didn't respond to him initially -- one of his pictures was laugh out loud cheesy, back lit by the sun coming through a patio door and his shirt completely open. But then I said to myself, "Ellie, you're being shallow. Cast that net wide, girl." So needless to say, I wasn't entirely disappointed when he closed the match.
The others look promising -- but I've been here before, so I'm being a bit more cautious. A new Mr. Rochester, 37 and a programming engineer and pictured with his two dogs (wins points immediately for that!). Two new Mr. Syracuses, 38-year-old database manager and a 39-year-old network administrator. A Mr. Baldwinsville (who might as well be in the Mr. Syracuse category), 38 and works as an administrator at a paper manufacturing facility. Currently he and Mr. Ithaca are at phase 3 -- the open-ended questions.
But again, I've been here before. And I'm taking on a more realistic approach -- not getting terribly excited about anything or anyone until a real communication takes place, until an actual phone call, or dare I hope, a date occurs.
The trials and tribulations of being single -- I really hope that all the marrieds say to themselves, at least once a week, "thank god, I don't have to go through that anymore."
**********
A Short Fran Story
God bless her....she e-mailed me and told me to look on the Lane Bryant website, that sometimes they have really good sales on sweaters, that I could find some for $10 or $12, that she would buy me a couple (apparently my whining about not having any clothes worked).
I wrote her back, and hope she took it the right way, I wasn't saying it to be snotty, but...."the whole point of losing weight is so I don't have to shop at Lane Bryant anymore."
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
It's Hump Day
I've just been scolded for not writing for two days -- sorry to leave my readers hanging. I feel like I've hit a dry spell, so I'll give a quick recap on what's been going on and hopefully be more inspired tomorrow. So Bubbles, this is for you.
In telling my friend JRK about e-harmony, I suddenly realized that all the men they've sent me as matches have lived in either Binghamton, Rochester or Syracuse (or suburbs of those three cities). None in Ithaca. Does that mean that there are no men in Ithaca for me? I've got two colleges here -- which means two sets of faculty, two sets of coaches (yeah!), two sets of staff....and still, nothing.
But then, yesterday, a message in my inbox from Dr. Neil Warren Clark whatever his name is (and on whom, by the way, I might have to open up a can of whoop ass if I don't get a freakin' date soon!). A match -- in Ithaca! He's 32 and works in "management at an Ivy League school." Gee, I wonder which university that is. Go Big Red!
So, being the overanxious girl I can sometimes be, I immediately sent off my list of five close-ended questions. And now ---- I wait.
On the B side of things (and I know I promised Just Thinking that I would get over him), I realized that the sweet, caring man I was with two weeks ago was just a facade -- he's just another guy. He doesn't know how to deal with the fact that I might like him, he doesn't want to lead me on, so he ignores me. There's a weird vibe between us -- there is nothing casual or flirty or fun anymore. Oh well....I've also realized that it's his loss.
I saw him at the gym last night (he decided that in order to be a rock star, he needs to be in better shape) -- and it was nice to not talk to him. Another friend of mine was on the treadmill next to me, B on the other side of him. And John and I talked baseball, playoffs, football, and Babe Ruth stats and trivia the whole time.
And it hit me -- B has no clue what the hell I'm talking about and would never be able to have this kind of conversation with me. I need a man that can carry on a conversation like that. I need a man who can appreciate what Roger Clemens did on Sunday, and who can understand why yesterday (and deservedly so) was "pick on A-Rod day."
And finally, on the running....I'm up to seven minutes (dear lord, not consecutively) of running. My shins are a little sore today -- I'm guessing I need to stretch out the front of my legs a little more. But it feels great. I am also officially running out of clothes that fit me.
And I've suddenly become that annoying girl in school who was excited about book reports and pop quizzes. I got off the treadmill, totally sweaty and red-faced, and B was standing there, fresh off the stair master, looking like he wanted to die, and I said, with total joy, "Isn't this great? I can't wait to come back tomorrow."
I think if he could have moved his legs, he might have kicked me.
PS....to Just Thinking...my Dr. Henry Cloud book arrived today. I'll have that to read and two baseball games to watch in bed tonight.
In telling my friend JRK about e-harmony, I suddenly realized that all the men they've sent me as matches have lived in either Binghamton, Rochester or Syracuse (or suburbs of those three cities). None in Ithaca. Does that mean that there are no men in Ithaca for me? I've got two colleges here -- which means two sets of faculty, two sets of coaches (yeah!), two sets of staff....and still, nothing.
But then, yesterday, a message in my inbox from Dr. Neil Warren Clark whatever his name is (and on whom, by the way, I might have to open up a can of whoop ass if I don't get a freakin' date soon!). A match -- in Ithaca! He's 32 and works in "management at an Ivy League school." Gee, I wonder which university that is. Go Big Red!
So, being the overanxious girl I can sometimes be, I immediately sent off my list of five close-ended questions. And now ---- I wait.
On the B side of things (and I know I promised Just Thinking that I would get over him), I realized that the sweet, caring man I was with two weeks ago was just a facade -- he's just another guy. He doesn't know how to deal with the fact that I might like him, he doesn't want to lead me on, so he ignores me. There's a weird vibe between us -- there is nothing casual or flirty or fun anymore. Oh well....I've also realized that it's his loss.
I saw him at the gym last night (he decided that in order to be a rock star, he needs to be in better shape) -- and it was nice to not talk to him. Another friend of mine was on the treadmill next to me, B on the other side of him. And John and I talked baseball, playoffs, football, and Babe Ruth stats and trivia the whole time.
And it hit me -- B has no clue what the hell I'm talking about and would never be able to have this kind of conversation with me. I need a man that can carry on a conversation like that. I need a man who can appreciate what Roger Clemens did on Sunday, and who can understand why yesterday (and deservedly so) was "pick on A-Rod day."
And finally, on the running....I'm up to seven minutes (dear lord, not consecutively) of running. My shins are a little sore today -- I'm guessing I need to stretch out the front of my legs a little more. But it feels great. I am also officially running out of clothes that fit me.
And I've suddenly become that annoying girl in school who was excited about book reports and pop quizzes. I got off the treadmill, totally sweaty and red-faced, and B was standing there, fresh off the stair master, looking like he wanted to die, and I said, with total joy, "Isn't this great? I can't wait to come back tomorrow."
I think if he could have moved his legs, he might have kicked me.
PS....to Just Thinking...my Dr. Henry Cloud book arrived today. I'll have that to read and two baseball games to watch in bed tonight.
Monday, October 10, 2005
The People's Republic of Ithaca
I know I live in a liberal city -- something like only 2% registered Republicans. And I know that I don't think of myself as strongly attached to one party of the other. I tend to vote on issues, rather than with the party -- and in some issues, I lean to the left, others to the right.
I was at the gym tonight after work. There are two TV's -- one is usually tuned to a cable news station, the other to ESPN. I always walk on the treadmill in front of the ESPN TV -- obviously. I finished my walk/run (5 sets of running for a minute, walking for four) and was doing the lower body circuit.
There were two older women also on the machines near me -- probably in their 60s, and most definitely faculty. One said to the other, "this place is going to hell in a hand basket, they've got FOX News on one TV and god damned sports on the other. I thought this was Ithaca."
OK, I can see where a liberal mind might have a problem with FOX News, but ESPN?! What's wrong with ESPN? Sports are bi-partisan, unless you're talking Yankees-Red Sox, Cowboys-Redskins.
I shot her a dirty look, but continued squeezing my inner and outer thighs as I read the closed captioning of Tony Kornheiser and Michael Wilbon. Even giggled a few times at their jokes. Sports are entertaining, they're a business (one that kept me gainfully employed for five years) and they are a way of life.
To quote ESPN...."where would we be without sports?" I, for one, wouldn't want to know the answer to that question.
I was at the gym tonight after work. There are two TV's -- one is usually tuned to a cable news station, the other to ESPN. I always walk on the treadmill in front of the ESPN TV -- obviously. I finished my walk/run (5 sets of running for a minute, walking for four) and was doing the lower body circuit.
There were two older women also on the machines near me -- probably in their 60s, and most definitely faculty. One said to the other, "this place is going to hell in a hand basket, they've got FOX News on one TV and god damned sports on the other. I thought this was Ithaca."
OK, I can see where a liberal mind might have a problem with FOX News, but ESPN?! What's wrong with ESPN? Sports are bi-partisan, unless you're talking Yankees-Red Sox, Cowboys-Redskins.
I shot her a dirty look, but continued squeezing my inner and outer thighs as I read the closed captioning of Tony Kornheiser and Michael Wilbon. Even giggled a few times at their jokes. Sports are entertaining, they're a business (one that kept me gainfully employed for five years) and they are a way of life.
To quote ESPN...."where would we be without sports?" I, for one, wouldn't want to know the answer to that question.
Sunday, October 09, 2005
If B Stood for Balls
I imagine the way a conversation might go -- if it were ever to take place:
"I told him (who? doesn't matter) that we had agreed to just be friends."
I'm surprised. "Oh? Really? I don't remember having that conversation." It sounds harsher than my normal tone. I'm glad.
"I just mean, that...after that night at my place..."
"Oh, when you said you needed to time to think about it, and then never got back to me. Oh I see I was supposed to take your lack of communication and understand exactly what you were thinking, what you feel about me."
"Don't be mad."
"I'm not mad. I'm never mad. Ok, maybe I am, but mostly at myself. Because I let myself get my hopes up, I let myself be excited about you. I went too far in my mind, made plans too far into the future. Here you were, a nice single man, interested in me. Asking me out, asking me back to your place. But you said you needed to think about it, and then you didn't act one way or the other, so of course, I should have just inferred, I should have just realized by you NOT getting back to me that you don't like me that way, that maybe you never did."
*******
Just once, it would be nice to just hear the truth. No bullshit. Just..."ya know, Ellie, I was thinking about it. And I do adore you, so much that I can't risk us hooking up and ruining what we have, and you deserve better than just a hook up, anyway."
"I told him (who? doesn't matter) that we had agreed to just be friends."
I'm surprised. "Oh? Really? I don't remember having that conversation." It sounds harsher than my normal tone. I'm glad.
"I just mean, that...after that night at my place..."
"Oh, when you said you needed to time to think about it, and then never got back to me. Oh I see I was supposed to take your lack of communication and understand exactly what you were thinking, what you feel about me."
"Don't be mad."
"I'm not mad. I'm never mad. Ok, maybe I am, but mostly at myself. Because I let myself get my hopes up, I let myself be excited about you. I went too far in my mind, made plans too far into the future. Here you were, a nice single man, interested in me. Asking me out, asking me back to your place. But you said you needed to think about it, and then you didn't act one way or the other, so of course, I should have just inferred, I should have just realized by you NOT getting back to me that you don't like me that way, that maybe you never did."
*******
Just once, it would be nice to just hear the truth. No bullshit. Just..."ya know, Ellie, I was thinking about it. And I do adore you, so much that I can't risk us hooking up and ruining what we have, and you deserve better than just a hook up, anyway."
Friday, October 07, 2005
Run, Forrest, Run
I love to run. I love the feeling. Pure freedom. Exhilaration. And when you're in the zone, you don't tire. The running actually energizes you.
I imagine that's the way running is. I wouldn't know. The only running I've ever done is in my dreams, literally. Every once in a while, I will have a dream where I'm running. Not for my life, not in fear of something, not away from someone, not even toward something specific. Just running for the joy of it.
And when I wake up after the dream, for a brief moment, I still feel the joy.
Tonight at the gym, I ran. By chance. One of the trainers told me that even though I was working hard on the treadmill, I wasn't hitting my target heart rate. I was building cardio endurance, but not burning calories as much as I could. Even walking with the incline at 7 or 8, walking at 3.7 mph, I was still only at 120.
So she suggested running. It was hard. It wasn't exhilarating. I ran for one minute, at 5 mph, with no incline. Then walked for four, at 4 mph. And then did it again. And again. By my third minute of running, I was exhausted. But my heart rate was up to 180, in the high end of target zone.
And I thought, I can do this. I can run. I might not run a marathon. But if I run three segments of one and four for a while, I can certaintly increase my segments and/or the length of time I'm running.
And tonight, as I'm watching the Yankees lose to the Angels (who, to me, are still the California Angels, but don't get me started on that), I've made a pledge to myself. I'm going to run. Run like the wind. And by this time next year, I'm going to run a 5K.
Because we're nothing if we don't set goals for ourselves. And sure, every once in a while I might put a "gimme" on my to-do list, just so I can cross something off. The four minutes of walking will be my gimme -- the one minute and beyond is my goal. And the 5K will be my prize.
I imagine that's the way running is. I wouldn't know. The only running I've ever done is in my dreams, literally. Every once in a while, I will have a dream where I'm running. Not for my life, not in fear of something, not away from someone, not even toward something specific. Just running for the joy of it.
And when I wake up after the dream, for a brief moment, I still feel the joy.
Tonight at the gym, I ran. By chance. One of the trainers told me that even though I was working hard on the treadmill, I wasn't hitting my target heart rate. I was building cardio endurance, but not burning calories as much as I could. Even walking with the incline at 7 or 8, walking at 3.7 mph, I was still only at 120.
So she suggested running. It was hard. It wasn't exhilarating. I ran for one minute, at 5 mph, with no incline. Then walked for four, at 4 mph. And then did it again. And again. By my third minute of running, I was exhausted. But my heart rate was up to 180, in the high end of target zone.
And I thought, I can do this. I can run. I might not run a marathon. But if I run three segments of one and four for a while, I can certaintly increase my segments and/or the length of time I'm running.
And tonight, as I'm watching the Yankees lose to the Angels (who, to me, are still the California Angels, but don't get me started on that), I've made a pledge to myself. I'm going to run. Run like the wind. And by this time next year, I'm going to run a 5K.
Because we're nothing if we don't set goals for ourselves. And sure, every once in a while I might put a "gimme" on my to-do list, just so I can cross something off. The four minutes of walking will be my gimme -- the one minute and beyond is my goal. And the 5K will be my prize.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Not by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin
I was standing in alumni relations this afternoon, waiting for a co-worker so we could walk to a meeting together. She was talking, and I was waiting. The alumni director walked by and stopped, and looked at me. Strangely. I had no idea what he was about to say to him.
"You're looking awfully..."
Annoyed? Bored?
"...thin. Are you working on it?"
I said that I was. "I can see it in your chin."
In my chin?! Granted, it probably would have been inappropriate for him to comment on my actual body. But my chin?!
It made me feel good anyway -- and I'm actually getting better at accepting compliments. What is it about women? Why can't we just smile and say thank you?
"That's a pretty dress." -- "This rag?"
"Your hair looks great." -- "Oh please, I'm having a bad hair day."
Just say thank you. And I have to remind myself of that, over and over again. I don't take compliments well, because I'm not sure of the motive. It sounds awfully cynical and suspicious of me -- and I'm usually not a cynical or suspicious person. But I think most women are like that. Otherwise seemingly confident, succesful women -- suddenly insecure when someone comments on their physical being.
I remind myself there is no motive. They wouldn't be saying it if they didn't think it was true. They would just say nothing. It's not like you were fishing for the compliment -- it came out of the blue, all on their own valition. So, smile...and say thank you.
But there is another kind of compliment, one that is hard to comprehend. The non-compliment. I have a co-worker who is great at the non-compliment. A couple weeks ago, I wore a pair of khakis -- they were kind of new and sort of fit me, closer in size than most of my current wardrobe. She said, "nice pants."
Now I was about to say "thank you." But what was she really saying -- nice pants on you, or just, nice pants? So I merely said, "Old Navy, you gotta love that store."
She has also been known to comment on the color of a shirt or sweater. "That's a great color."
Not "that's a great color on you," but rather "great color." Well, since I had nothing to do with creating the color, can I really say thank you? And is she really saying something that deserves a thank you?
I'm perplexed on that one -- and maybe I shouldn't be. Maybe, I should respond to the "nice pants" the same way I respond to the "you're looking awfully thin."
Smile. And say thank you, Gilbert. Thank you.
"You're looking awfully..."
Annoyed? Bored?
"...thin. Are you working on it?"
I said that I was. "I can see it in your chin."
In my chin?! Granted, it probably would have been inappropriate for him to comment on my actual body. But my chin?!
It made me feel good anyway -- and I'm actually getting better at accepting compliments. What is it about women? Why can't we just smile and say thank you?
"That's a pretty dress." -- "This rag?"
"Your hair looks great." -- "Oh please, I'm having a bad hair day."
Just say thank you. And I have to remind myself of that, over and over again. I don't take compliments well, because I'm not sure of the motive. It sounds awfully cynical and suspicious of me -- and I'm usually not a cynical or suspicious person. But I think most women are like that. Otherwise seemingly confident, succesful women -- suddenly insecure when someone comments on their physical being.
I remind myself there is no motive. They wouldn't be saying it if they didn't think it was true. They would just say nothing. It's not like you were fishing for the compliment -- it came out of the blue, all on their own valition. So, smile...and say thank you.
But there is another kind of compliment, one that is hard to comprehend. The non-compliment. I have a co-worker who is great at the non-compliment. A couple weeks ago, I wore a pair of khakis -- they were kind of new and sort of fit me, closer in size than most of my current wardrobe. She said, "nice pants."
Now I was about to say "thank you." But what was she really saying -- nice pants on you, or just, nice pants? So I merely said, "Old Navy, you gotta love that store."
She has also been known to comment on the color of a shirt or sweater. "That's a great color."
Not "that's a great color on you," but rather "great color." Well, since I had nothing to do with creating the color, can I really say thank you? And is she really saying something that deserves a thank you?
I'm perplexed on that one -- and maybe I shouldn't be. Maybe, I should respond to the "nice pants" the same way I respond to the "you're looking awfully thin."
Smile. And say thank you, Gilbert. Thank you.
Karma Chameleon
Do I believe in dating karma? Do I think that previously bad things I did are somehow casting a bad spell on my success (or lack of) in finding someone to have a relationship with? Is there a cosmic quid pro quo? It's a possibility, I guess. And it's as good an answer as any as to why a seemingly cool chick like me is still unattached.
But how to reverse the bad karma? How to undo the things I've done? I can't confess them to the person I've wronged. There is no need to hurt that person further. I feel that I'm making up for it by the fact that I've not let it happen again. But is that enough?
Here's the situation...it was Fall 2003 and I had to pick up a Museum VIP from the airport and deliver her and her son to the hotel. They were coming in to Baltimore for a couple days. I dragged a friend along for the ride -- actually I made him drive.
I didn't anticipate staying at the hotel as long as we did. But we stayed for dinner, and evenutally into the hotel bar, drinking and talking with a co-worker of mine and the VIP's son. I don't know what time it was when we ended up leaving -- but a whole lot of beer had been consumed.
When we got to my place, my friend came up to my apartment. I had something for his daughter, and he needed to use the bathroom. While he was doing that, I changed into my pajamas, planning to pass out as soon as he left.
We were standing in the living room, and I hugged him, presumably good-bye. And he kept hugging me. And then he kissed me quickly. Again, I thought nothing of it. A good-bye kiss. A good-bye kiss, however, that kept happening, until the good-bye kiss got longer, and then was not a good-bye kiss.
I pulled away, and he pulled me into his chest. "Oh Red, if only I weren't married. Can you imagine if we had met each other when I was single. We'd be good together."
I should have responded with: "Yea...we would have. But you're married. And you're also not the first man to say this to me." How sad is that?!
Instead, I started to cry, and then he kissed me again. Again for too long of a time. I pulled away. What else could I do? Slap him like some silly B-movie scene? Call him a bastard and kick him out? I sent him on his way, and then fell into a fitful sleep of confusion and guilt.
But it begs the question -- did I lead him on? Did I somehow invite him to think that this was okay? Honestly, I don't think that I did any of those things. But it happened. And it was wrong. And in the world of black and white, I am just as culpable as he was.
And so, two years later, is this moment of indiscretion coming back to haunt me? To somehow curse me? Or am I grasping at straws? Trying to rationalize that, maybe -- just maybe -- I haven't met him yet. For whatever reason.
Not fate. Not curses. Just life. And everything happens in its own due time -- but is not tied to actions of the past.
But how to reverse the bad karma? How to undo the things I've done? I can't confess them to the person I've wronged. There is no need to hurt that person further. I feel that I'm making up for it by the fact that I've not let it happen again. But is that enough?
Here's the situation...it was Fall 2003 and I had to pick up a Museum VIP from the airport and deliver her and her son to the hotel. They were coming in to Baltimore for a couple days. I dragged a friend along for the ride -- actually I made him drive.
I didn't anticipate staying at the hotel as long as we did. But we stayed for dinner, and evenutally into the hotel bar, drinking and talking with a co-worker of mine and the VIP's son. I don't know what time it was when we ended up leaving -- but a whole lot of beer had been consumed.
When we got to my place, my friend came up to my apartment. I had something for his daughter, and he needed to use the bathroom. While he was doing that, I changed into my pajamas, planning to pass out as soon as he left.
We were standing in the living room, and I hugged him, presumably good-bye. And he kept hugging me. And then he kissed me quickly. Again, I thought nothing of it. A good-bye kiss. A good-bye kiss, however, that kept happening, until the good-bye kiss got longer, and then was not a good-bye kiss.
I pulled away, and he pulled me into his chest. "Oh Red, if only I weren't married. Can you imagine if we had met each other when I was single. We'd be good together."
I should have responded with: "Yea...we would have. But you're married. And you're also not the first man to say this to me." How sad is that?!
Instead, I started to cry, and then he kissed me again. Again for too long of a time. I pulled away. What else could I do? Slap him like some silly B-movie scene? Call him a bastard and kick him out? I sent him on his way, and then fell into a fitful sleep of confusion and guilt.
But it begs the question -- did I lead him on? Did I somehow invite him to think that this was okay? Honestly, I don't think that I did any of those things. But it happened. And it was wrong. And in the world of black and white, I am just as culpable as he was.
And so, two years later, is this moment of indiscretion coming back to haunt me? To somehow curse me? Or am I grasping at straws? Trying to rationalize that, maybe -- just maybe -- I haven't met him yet. For whatever reason.
Not fate. Not curses. Just life. And everything happens in its own due time -- but is not tied to actions of the past.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
I've got a secret...
Why are we reserved with people who know us best? Is it better -- or easier -- to open up to strangers? Is it our nature to be secretive? Does it add an element of excitement? Or is it based in insecurity?
I've had this blog for several months, have written significant life events and feelings and reactions related to those. And yet, this column (as I like to refer to it) has been my secret. Unintentionally at first. I wasn't sure how far I would go. How habit-forming and cathartic it would become. But then once I started and had been doing it for a while, it felt awkward to bring it up.
"Oh by the way, I've had a blog for the past 10 years," or something like that.
Perhaps I've been able to write unedited and completely open because I know that my audience is mostly strangers, mere acquaintances. Have I felt more independence in my writing because of that mere freedom of not knowing who was reading?
Will I feel judged now that I've shared more of myself with those closest to me? Will I feel exposed? A need to justify my actions, feelings and thoughts? I don't think so -- I hope not. Recently, I've given this URL to more people, widening my circle of readers -- and the response has been positive, so I've given it out to a few more.
Now I don't anticipate putting it on my business card and handing it out at the next family gathering -- those are some of the people who are better off never reading this! But I do feel more comfortable expressing myself, exposing myself, if you will.
And maybe that's a step in growth, as well. And a step in accepting myself.
I've had this blog for several months, have written significant life events and feelings and reactions related to those. And yet, this column (as I like to refer to it) has been my secret. Unintentionally at first. I wasn't sure how far I would go. How habit-forming and cathartic it would become. But then once I started and had been doing it for a while, it felt awkward to bring it up.
"Oh by the way, I've had a blog for the past 10 years," or something like that.
Perhaps I've been able to write unedited and completely open because I know that my audience is mostly strangers, mere acquaintances. Have I felt more independence in my writing because of that mere freedom of not knowing who was reading?
Will I feel judged now that I've shared more of myself with those closest to me? Will I feel exposed? A need to justify my actions, feelings and thoughts? I don't think so -- I hope not. Recently, I've given this URL to more people, widening my circle of readers -- and the response has been positive, so I've given it out to a few more.
Now I don't anticipate putting it on my business card and handing it out at the next family gathering -- those are some of the people who are better off never reading this! But I do feel more comfortable expressing myself, exposing myself, if you will.
And maybe that's a step in growth, as well. And a step in accepting myself.
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Is this really October?
It must be, because the play-offs start today. In fact one game is underway. Nothing better than games starting at 1pm and lasting all through the day. Nothing better, that is, unless it's October 4th, in upstate New York, and it's almost 80 degrees outside.
I just went for a walk across campus. The trees are just starting to turn, little hints of orange and gold; the sky is perfectly blue, with little bunches of clouds; and the lake is glistening. It was nice to get outside, out of the air conditioning (I've had my space heater on in my office all summer!), and into the fresh air. Hope and I walked the long way around campus, dropped off a proof at Career Services, mailed the anniversary party invitations (how exciting it will be when I start getting RSVP's!), and then picked up something at ITS.
As we were walking out of the ITS office, I said "let's go back outside."
"Are you sure?" I knew what she was asking. If we stayed inside and walked down the building, we would have walked by B's office.
No hesitation. Outside. I had some sort of realization -- and I'm not exactly sure when -- but I said, "if he wants me, he knows where I am."
And Hope nodded, and said, "Exactly, and I'm not saying another word."
So, in my moment of clarity, walking past the pink flowers around the flag pole, looking out onto the sparkling lake -- he knows what I want, what I'm willing to give. He's the one who initiated us going out. He's the one who pulled the plug. I'm not saying he's completely in control -- but I can't control him. I can't urge him to do something. Nor can I wait around, wondering what he's going to do. If he's going to do...
And so, I'll enjoy the sunshine for the next two days, enjoy the warm weather, before it goes away for six months and keep doing what I'm doing.
Working on me from the inside out -- making my outside as beautiful as my inside, and believing everyday that my outside and inside are beautiful. And maybe someday, someone else, whoever he may be, will believe in my beauty.
I just went for a walk across campus. The trees are just starting to turn, little hints of orange and gold; the sky is perfectly blue, with little bunches of clouds; and the lake is glistening. It was nice to get outside, out of the air conditioning (I've had my space heater on in my office all summer!), and into the fresh air. Hope and I walked the long way around campus, dropped off a proof at Career Services, mailed the anniversary party invitations (how exciting it will be when I start getting RSVP's!), and then picked up something at ITS.
As we were walking out of the ITS office, I said "let's go back outside."
"Are you sure?" I knew what she was asking. If we stayed inside and walked down the building, we would have walked by B's office.
No hesitation. Outside. I had some sort of realization -- and I'm not exactly sure when -- but I said, "if he wants me, he knows where I am."
And Hope nodded, and said, "Exactly, and I'm not saying another word."
So, in my moment of clarity, walking past the pink flowers around the flag pole, looking out onto the sparkling lake -- he knows what I want, what I'm willing to give. He's the one who initiated us going out. He's the one who pulled the plug. I'm not saying he's completely in control -- but I can't control him. I can't urge him to do something. Nor can I wait around, wondering what he's going to do. If he's going to do...
And so, I'll enjoy the sunshine for the next two days, enjoy the warm weather, before it goes away for six months and keep doing what I'm doing.
Working on me from the inside out -- making my outside as beautiful as my inside, and believing everyday that my outside and inside are beautiful. And maybe someday, someone else, whoever he may be, will believe in my beauty.
Monday, October 03, 2005
I Didn't Expect This....
I just had a really good cry. Actually, it wasn't good, but that's what people call it. Why, I wonder? What's good about crying when you're sad? I guess it's cleansing -- but then your face gets all red and blotchy (at least mine does) and you've got to blow your nose like a goose.
I cried because I found out that one of my interns in Baltimore passed away last week. She was in her early 20s and had had ovarian cancer and a hysterectomy when she was working for me at the Museum at the age of 20. One of my former co-workers called me today to tell me that she died last week. I remember after her surgery, I brought her a personalized baseball signed by Brian Roberts (her absolute favorite player). She was so happy, she cried. And that's how I'll remember her -- happy with a baseball from her favorite player. RIP, Laura Hamilton -- you left us too soon.
And then I cried again because I found out that my dearest friend Wanda had a miscarriage. I tried to be strong, but started to cry before I could even call her. I pulled myself together and we talked about her beautiful daughter, how she's been getting through the past week and how Miranda's little face helps make it better. And then she asked about me, and I tried to give her the 10-words-or-less version of what has been happening with B, and ended up crying again as I explained how completely vunerable I feel about this situation.
And I'm probably still crying because I have PMS. I haven't done this in so long. It might actually be cleansing -- unless I get that headache that I usually get from crying this hard. Tomorrow has to be better.
I cried because I found out that one of my interns in Baltimore passed away last week. She was in her early 20s and had had ovarian cancer and a hysterectomy when she was working for me at the Museum at the age of 20. One of my former co-workers called me today to tell me that she died last week. I remember after her surgery, I brought her a personalized baseball signed by Brian Roberts (her absolute favorite player). She was so happy, she cried. And that's how I'll remember her -- happy with a baseball from her favorite player. RIP, Laura Hamilton -- you left us too soon.
And then I cried again because I found out that my dearest friend Wanda had a miscarriage. I tried to be strong, but started to cry before I could even call her. I pulled myself together and we talked about her beautiful daughter, how she's been getting through the past week and how Miranda's little face helps make it better. And then she asked about me, and I tried to give her the 10-words-or-less version of what has been happening with B, and ended up crying again as I explained how completely vunerable I feel about this situation.
And I'm probably still crying because I have PMS. I haven't done this in so long. It might actually be cleansing -- unless I get that headache that I usually get from crying this hard. Tomorrow has to be better.
Sunday, October 02, 2005
Would like to be in a chocolate-induced coma right now....
It's beyond liking B now. It's to the point where I am analyzing things that aren't even happening. I just need to know -- does he want to pursue something? Anything? Or are we just friends? And what kind of friends are we, exactly? The kind who only see each other at work? Or the kind who lay on a bed together, cuddling and talking, but having nothing resembling any form of sex?
Nothing has happened to elicit this diatribe on a Sunday afternoon. And that's the problem. Nothing has happened. I was fine until we went out last week. Actually, I was fine until we went back to his apartment. I had stopped thinking about him so much. Stopped wondering if the flirting was going anywhere. Had stopped over-analyzing all forms of communication with him, wondering if it was appropriate. And then a couple of beers and a couple of hours on a bed -- and BAM, here I am again. Neurotic over a non-relationship.
Friday night after work, I went out with my friend Erica. I was too dressed up for a Friday -- but that's what happens when someone schedules a Friday meeting with a Dean -- so I had to go home and change. We agreed to meet a little after 6 at Benchwarmers. I got out of my meeting at 5, after having spent the previous hour wondering what I had to wear that wasn't too big on me, and drove home with a full plan of what I needed to do in the next 30 minutes.
Plugged in the straightening iron, turned on the computer, pulled out my jeans, a thong, black v-neck sweater and a push-up bra (ouch, but necessary -- the sweater was a little big and really needed the enhancement of the push-up bra). I saw that B was still at work, with his away message up. Erica had been gently prodding me to tell him I was going out. I wasn't sure if I should.
But after getting changed, and touching up my hair and make-up, I thought what the hell?! So I changed my away message to say "at benchwarmers, go yankees!" and IM'd him with: "buy you a drink if you're out tonight. i'll be at benchwarmers after 6."
I didn't expect that I would see him, though I was hopeful all night. Erica and I stayed at Benchwarmers for a couple hours, then moved to a couple other bars, before heading to the "naughty store." And then as we were walking out with our brown paper bagged purchases, I thought, oh perfect, this is when we'll run into him. (It would have made a more interesting story if, in fact, we did run into him then. But we didn't.)
I drove Erica home and thought, well at least I'll have an IM response from him when I get home. So I've given up the gym, drank one beer beyond my usual limit and ate french fries -- and my reward, besides having a great time with my girlfriend, will be the message to send me off to sweet dreams. Right?
Wrong.
No message. Nothing. He had signed off when he left work, and signed back on at home. And had his away message up.
Now rationally, all of this tells me that I have gotten way too caught up in him, way too attached to nothing substantial, and I honestly need a reality check. I figured this all out today, as I procrastinated working out and realized that I have PMS-induced munchies -- not good for the 10 more pounds by Halloween plan. However, in a moment of clarity, what was the worst thing I ate -- sugar-free pudding and baked Lay's, when what I really wanted was a turtle sundae from Purity.
All of this tells me that I need to back off. I need to stop thinking about him. I need to go back to normal, to where we were that afternoon when I put my arm around him and simply told him I missed him, after not seeing him for two weeks. I was confident at that moment, comfortable, knew where I fit in the order of things. Now I'm confused, analytical and just plain neurotic.
It's not supposed to be like this...but then I guess, it's not supposed to be like anything.
Nothing has happened to elicit this diatribe on a Sunday afternoon. And that's the problem. Nothing has happened. I was fine until we went out last week. Actually, I was fine until we went back to his apartment. I had stopped thinking about him so much. Stopped wondering if the flirting was going anywhere. Had stopped over-analyzing all forms of communication with him, wondering if it was appropriate. And then a couple of beers and a couple of hours on a bed -- and BAM, here I am again. Neurotic over a non-relationship.
Friday night after work, I went out with my friend Erica. I was too dressed up for a Friday -- but that's what happens when someone schedules a Friday meeting with a Dean -- so I had to go home and change. We agreed to meet a little after 6 at Benchwarmers. I got out of my meeting at 5, after having spent the previous hour wondering what I had to wear that wasn't too big on me, and drove home with a full plan of what I needed to do in the next 30 minutes.
Plugged in the straightening iron, turned on the computer, pulled out my jeans, a thong, black v-neck sweater and a push-up bra (ouch, but necessary -- the sweater was a little big and really needed the enhancement of the push-up bra). I saw that B was still at work, with his away message up. Erica had been gently prodding me to tell him I was going out. I wasn't sure if I should.
But after getting changed, and touching up my hair and make-up, I thought what the hell?! So I changed my away message to say "at benchwarmers, go yankees!" and IM'd him with: "buy you a drink if you're out tonight. i'll be at benchwarmers after 6."
I didn't expect that I would see him, though I was hopeful all night. Erica and I stayed at Benchwarmers for a couple hours, then moved to a couple other bars, before heading to the "naughty store." And then as we were walking out with our brown paper bagged purchases, I thought, oh perfect, this is when we'll run into him. (It would have made a more interesting story if, in fact, we did run into him then. But we didn't.)
I drove Erica home and thought, well at least I'll have an IM response from him when I get home. So I've given up the gym, drank one beer beyond my usual limit and ate french fries -- and my reward, besides having a great time with my girlfriend, will be the message to send me off to sweet dreams. Right?
Wrong.
No message. Nothing. He had signed off when he left work, and signed back on at home. And had his away message up.
Now rationally, all of this tells me that I have gotten way too caught up in him, way too attached to nothing substantial, and I honestly need a reality check. I figured this all out today, as I procrastinated working out and realized that I have PMS-induced munchies -- not good for the 10 more pounds by Halloween plan. However, in a moment of clarity, what was the worst thing I ate -- sugar-free pudding and baked Lay's, when what I really wanted was a turtle sundae from Purity.
All of this tells me that I need to back off. I need to stop thinking about him. I need to go back to normal, to where we were that afternoon when I put my arm around him and simply told him I missed him, after not seeing him for two weeks. I was confident at that moment, comfortable, knew where I fit in the order of things. Now I'm confused, analytical and just plain neurotic.
It's not supposed to be like this...but then I guess, it's not supposed to be like anything.
Friday, September 30, 2005
You're falling faster than you climb
I finally got some movement on the e-harmony front. However, it wasn't exactly what I was hoping for. When last we left Binghamton Dan, we were waiting for him to send me an actual e-mail message, though through the e-harmony system so I wouldn't have his e-mail address if he didn't want me to. This morning, I logged in and saw that there was a "on hold" message waiting for me.
"I'm just not sure right now, but may be interested in communicating more in the future."
I'm not sure what that means, and I know from my own experience of putting people on hold that there is a list of four or five messages to choose from, so it wasn't like he could elaborate. Trying to see the "glass half full" side of things, I will take it as a good sign that he simply put me on hold and didn't close the match. I think.
I'm still waiting on a message from Jeff in Syracuse. He is at the same stage as Dan -- through all the questions and lists, and ready for a real message.
The matches have also seemed to dry up a little -- I get one or two a week now, as opposed to one or two a day when I first started. Am I that difficult a person? Are my needs that unreasonable? I don't think so. But again, glass half full, I'm not even through a full month -- I have two and half months left of my $99 investment. And really, did I expect to find the love of my life in the first month? No, but a first date would have been nice.
On the B side of things...I'm at a total loss. We have seemingly gone back to normal, though in fairness to him, we have only seen each other in meetings. It's not like we can have the kind of conversation I want while we're discussing the new home page design with five other people in the room.
But he does have opportunities to get me alone -- and hasn't. So then I start to second-guess myself, should I have not IM'd him on Sunday? Should I have not made him cookies? But I always make him cookies. Was it too much? Did I make him think that I liked him? Oh no....I need to get out of this high school/college mentality. However, I think I'm still scarred by those experiences. Those unrequited experiences as the fat girl. Sure the boys all liked me, as a friend -- until they found out that I liked them -- and then it was all over.
Whenever someone found out I liked him, they did whatever they could to stay away from me, as little as possible to encourage me (including talking to me in situations where it would have been completely normal) and out-and-out ignore me.
And so, as much as it might take the wind out of my sails and take away the giddiness and excitement, I would just rather know, than not. If he would just say, "I've thought about it, and I just don't want to risk it being weird between us."
Fine. I accept that. 100%. It's the not knowing, the over-thinking and the wondering that drives me crazy, that makes me doubt myself. And then I'm reminded of the best line from Sixteen Candles -- "That's why they call them crushes. If they were easy, they'd call them something else."
How true...even at this age.
"I'm just not sure right now, but may be interested in communicating more in the future."
I'm not sure what that means, and I know from my own experience of putting people on hold that there is a list of four or five messages to choose from, so it wasn't like he could elaborate. Trying to see the "glass half full" side of things, I will take it as a good sign that he simply put me on hold and didn't close the match. I think.
I'm still waiting on a message from Jeff in Syracuse. He is at the same stage as Dan -- through all the questions and lists, and ready for a real message.
The matches have also seemed to dry up a little -- I get one or two a week now, as opposed to one or two a day when I first started. Am I that difficult a person? Are my needs that unreasonable? I don't think so. But again, glass half full, I'm not even through a full month -- I have two and half months left of my $99 investment. And really, did I expect to find the love of my life in the first month? No, but a first date would have been nice.
On the B side of things...I'm at a total loss. We have seemingly gone back to normal, though in fairness to him, we have only seen each other in meetings. It's not like we can have the kind of conversation I want while we're discussing the new home page design with five other people in the room.
But he does have opportunities to get me alone -- and hasn't. So then I start to second-guess myself, should I have not IM'd him on Sunday? Should I have not made him cookies? But I always make him cookies. Was it too much? Did I make him think that I liked him? Oh no....I need to get out of this high school/college mentality. However, I think I'm still scarred by those experiences. Those unrequited experiences as the fat girl. Sure the boys all liked me, as a friend -- until they found out that I liked them -- and then it was all over.
Whenever someone found out I liked him, they did whatever they could to stay away from me, as little as possible to encourage me (including talking to me in situations where it would have been completely normal) and out-and-out ignore me.
And so, as much as it might take the wind out of my sails and take away the giddiness and excitement, I would just rather know, than not. If he would just say, "I've thought about it, and I just don't want to risk it being weird between us."
Fine. I accept that. 100%. It's the not knowing, the over-thinking and the wondering that drives me crazy, that makes me doubt myself. And then I'm reminded of the best line from Sixteen Candles -- "That's why they call them crushes. If they were easy, they'd call them something else."
How true...even at this age.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
See you in Toledo
I have seven brothers and sisters. And yes, I am the youngest -- I'm sure that explains a lot to those who believe in the birth order thing. Out of the eight of us, seven of us all get along. The lone wolf, black sheep or as I like to refer to her, my mother's other daughter, gets along with one of my brothers.
And it's not like we're mean to her. We invite her to things, she doesn't come. When we do see her, everything is very civil. But, being the youngest perhaps, I take things more personally, I take things more literally and am not so quick to forgive. Some of the things that I'm still pissed at: she didn't come to my niece's wedding shower, wedding or baby shower; she didn't send my other niece (her god-daughter, by the way) a get well card when she was in a serious car accident; and don't even get my started on what a bitch she's been about my parents' anniversary party and not wanting to be a team player.
My mother has these grand illusions -- along the lines of me marrying Dave or Ed (who you might remember are already married, but whose pictures she cropped to make a picture not of the three of us, but rather me and one of them as a couple) -- that one day, all eight of us will get along like the freakin' Waltons. She tries, she manipulates, she cries and prays -- it ain't going to happen.
When they were here on Sunday, they asked how my elderly great-aunt and uncle were getting to the party. I told them I had it under control -- after pictures at 6, my brother Bob was going to get them.
Knowing my mother the way I do, she held on to that tidbit of information -- that we were doing family pictures at 6 even though the party doesn't start until 7. And this morning I got the following e-mail from her, under the guise of thanking me again for dinner and wanting to know if I wanted my container back.
"Also does Sue know the time for family pictures? remember they need to pick up Marge. so they can plan accordingly."
First of all Marge, my sister's mother-in-law, lives 20 minutes from them and only 5 minutes from the hotel where the party is. So I'm not exactly sure what kind of grand travel plans they need to make -- maybe a trip tick from AAA? Secondly, the party is two freaking months away. The invitations haven't even gone out yet -- so presumably, she doesn't even know when the party exactly is, let alone that I need her there an hour early.
My response to Fran:
"I know you mean well in asking about Sue -- and I know I don't like her, but that doesn't mean that I'm not communicating with her. I'll let everyone know as things gets closer what time they need to be there. I've only mentioned it to some when I've asked them to do something specific."
I knew what I would be in for -- I just knew it. And Fran did not disappoint:
"sorry I know you have everything under control. I know your feelings and I'm sorry that very hurt feelings exist I know Sue can be difficult at times but everyone has their times. I pray that things will get better, I know they will never be as they were, but I just have to believe in time they may. I love all of you very much and am proud of all that has been accomplished in your lives. All are different love MOM"
And yes, these are exact copy and pastes. I figure why should I be the only one frustrated with her non-sentences and lack of punctuation and grammar. I couldn't let her get the last word (again, I think this has to do with me being the youngest), so I responded again:
"You just need to be happy with the fact that you have a relationship with all of your kids and stop trying to make the rest of us like each other."
End of discussion -- it has been a Fran-free day since this all took place in under 20 minutes this morning. My sister has made her decision about living her life the way she wants, without her family. She seems perfectly happy and content with her asshole husband and their friends. But it is something that my mother will never accept.
And unfortunately, until or unless she accepts this, she will be the only one unhappy about this situation.
And it's not like we're mean to her. We invite her to things, she doesn't come. When we do see her, everything is very civil. But, being the youngest perhaps, I take things more personally, I take things more literally and am not so quick to forgive. Some of the things that I'm still pissed at: she didn't come to my niece's wedding shower, wedding or baby shower; she didn't send my other niece (her god-daughter, by the way) a get well card when she was in a serious car accident; and don't even get my started on what a bitch she's been about my parents' anniversary party and not wanting to be a team player.
My mother has these grand illusions -- along the lines of me marrying Dave or Ed (who you might remember are already married, but whose pictures she cropped to make a picture not of the three of us, but rather me and one of them as a couple) -- that one day, all eight of us will get along like the freakin' Waltons. She tries, she manipulates, she cries and prays -- it ain't going to happen.
When they were here on Sunday, they asked how my elderly great-aunt and uncle were getting to the party. I told them I had it under control -- after pictures at 6, my brother Bob was going to get them.
Knowing my mother the way I do, she held on to that tidbit of information -- that we were doing family pictures at 6 even though the party doesn't start until 7. And this morning I got the following e-mail from her, under the guise of thanking me again for dinner and wanting to know if I wanted my container back.
"Also does Sue know the time for family pictures? remember they need to pick up Marge. so they can plan accordingly."
First of all Marge, my sister's mother-in-law, lives 20 minutes from them and only 5 minutes from the hotel where the party is. So I'm not exactly sure what kind of grand travel plans they need to make -- maybe a trip tick from AAA? Secondly, the party is two freaking months away. The invitations haven't even gone out yet -- so presumably, she doesn't even know when the party exactly is, let alone that I need her there an hour early.
My response to Fran:
"I know you mean well in asking about Sue -- and I know I don't like her, but that doesn't mean that I'm not communicating with her. I'll let everyone know as things gets closer what time they need to be there. I've only mentioned it to some when I've asked them to do something specific."
I knew what I would be in for -- I just knew it. And Fran did not disappoint:
"sorry I know you have everything under control. I know your feelings and I'm sorry that very hurt feelings exist I know Sue can be difficult at times but everyone has their times. I pray that things will get better, I know they will never be as they were, but I just have to believe in time they may. I love all of you very much and am proud of all that has been accomplished in your lives. All are different love MOM"
And yes, these are exact copy and pastes. I figure why should I be the only one frustrated with her non-sentences and lack of punctuation and grammar. I couldn't let her get the last word (again, I think this has to do with me being the youngest), so I responded again:
"You just need to be happy with the fact that you have a relationship with all of your kids and stop trying to make the rest of us like each other."
End of discussion -- it has been a Fran-free day since this all took place in under 20 minutes this morning. My sister has made her decision about living her life the way she wants, without her family. She seems perfectly happy and content with her asshole husband and their friends. But it is something that my mother will never accept.
And unfortunately, until or unless she accepts this, she will be the only one unhappy about this situation.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
It was something as simple as my phone ringing...
Chris called. I heard my phone ringing, I rang down the hall -- and there he was. "Hey what's going on?"
That voice -- that cocky, arrogant voice. And I could have so easily melted into the phone hearing that voice. But I didn't. Certainly it was nice to hear from him. And of course, it was not a call without motivation. He needed dinner invitations for a work event. I've designed them for him in the past. Would it be too much trouble for me to do another one?
*Sigh* Of course not. I found the old file on my computer, he gave me the changes. I told him that I would have it done this afternoon or tonight.
He asked if I was still mad at him. I told him I was never mad at him. I needed him to know how I felt, I did, it's over. He joked that I'm not allowed to tell him how I feel, that's against the rules of our relationship. Which is very true. Sadly. But I held my ground. I told him he could pay for the design job with a gift card for a store or the mall -- that I was in desperate need of new clothes since nothing fits anymore.
It would be so easy to fall back into that habit of having him in my life. Too easy. Especially since the e-harmony thing has been so frustrating, and I have no idea where things stand with B. And this is what gets me into trouble.
Chris calls. And he's there, for the time being and on his own terms -- but he's there. And he gives me what I want, even if its temporary. I'm going to try to be strong. Keep this professional. Keep it friendly. And keep it out of the bedroom.
I made that promise to myself. And if I can't keep a promise to myself, how can I expect others to?
That voice -- that cocky, arrogant voice. And I could have so easily melted into the phone hearing that voice. But I didn't. Certainly it was nice to hear from him. And of course, it was not a call without motivation. He needed dinner invitations for a work event. I've designed them for him in the past. Would it be too much trouble for me to do another one?
*Sigh* Of course not. I found the old file on my computer, he gave me the changes. I told him that I would have it done this afternoon or tonight.
He asked if I was still mad at him. I told him I was never mad at him. I needed him to know how I felt, I did, it's over. He joked that I'm not allowed to tell him how I feel, that's against the rules of our relationship. Which is very true. Sadly. But I held my ground. I told him he could pay for the design job with a gift card for a store or the mall -- that I was in desperate need of new clothes since nothing fits anymore.
It would be so easy to fall back into that habit of having him in my life. Too easy. Especially since the e-harmony thing has been so frustrating, and I have no idea where things stand with B. And this is what gets me into trouble.
Chris calls. And he's there, for the time being and on his own terms -- but he's there. And he gives me what I want, even if its temporary. I'm going to try to be strong. Keep this professional. Keep it friendly. And keep it out of the bedroom.
I made that promise to myself. And if I can't keep a promise to myself, how can I expect others to?
Monday, September 26, 2005
Twice as Nice
My oldest friend Jennifer e-mailed me this morning -- and when I say oldest, I don't mean that she's old, but rather that I've known her longer than any of my "still in touch with" friends -- and she had great news to share. She's expecting twins! Nolan will be just turning 2 when the twins are born, so ... a little scary, a lot overwhelming, but also joyous happy news nonetheless.
Jenn and I met in Home Ec class in the 9th grade (do they still have Home Ec class or did I just really date myself?!). Not only does she know me better than almost anyone -- but she has a way of keeping me grounded, and makes me feel better about things without her being condescending or patronizing me.
When I was visiting her a couple months ago (and I may have written about this), I told her about my fear of accepting single motherhood -- that by doing that, it would make me feel like I was giving up on my man search. And rather than tell me that I was being silly, that it would all happen, be patient, etc....all of the cliche-riddled responses that I normally get from well-meaning friends, she simply said, in the kindest tone possible, "it might not happen."And her saying that made me feel better instantly. It was like she was validating my feelings as real, as...well for lack of a better word -- valid.
But here's the other thing about Jenn, she believes in me. And she believes that it will happen. I mentioned in my last e-mail that I was trying e-harmony, even though I was feeling particuarly destined to be single.
Her response in the e-mail this morning said, "I think that's good you're doing the eharmony thing. More trying = more chances of meeting someone, right? You are not destined to be single. You are just destined to marry later than most...and that's okay too!"
And this coming from a person who initally had trouble conceiving, about to be the mother of three -- somehow it adds more credence to what she's saying. She knows about things not happening as expected, but things happening all the same.
*****
And though I don't feel this way in particular, it is Monday, and it is raining, so....
Sometimes I'd like to quit...nothing ever seems to fit...nothing to do but frown
Rainy days and Mondays always get me down.
Jenn and I met in Home Ec class in the 9th grade (do they still have Home Ec class or did I just really date myself?!). Not only does she know me better than almost anyone -- but she has a way of keeping me grounded, and makes me feel better about things without her being condescending or patronizing me.
When I was visiting her a couple months ago (and I may have written about this), I told her about my fear of accepting single motherhood -- that by doing that, it would make me feel like I was giving up on my man search. And rather than tell me that I was being silly, that it would all happen, be patient, etc....all of the cliche-riddled responses that I normally get from well-meaning friends, she simply said, in the kindest tone possible, "it might not happen."And her saying that made me feel better instantly. It was like she was validating my feelings as real, as...well for lack of a better word -- valid.
But here's the other thing about Jenn, she believes in me. And she believes that it will happen. I mentioned in my last e-mail that I was trying e-harmony, even though I was feeling particuarly destined to be single.
Her response in the e-mail this morning said, "I think that's good you're doing the eharmony thing. More trying = more chances of meeting someone, right? You are not destined to be single. You are just destined to marry later than most...and that's okay too!"
And this coming from a person who initally had trouble conceiving, about to be the mother of three -- somehow it adds more credence to what she's saying. She knows about things not happening as expected, but things happening all the same.
*****
And though I don't feel this way in particular, it is Monday, and it is raining, so....
Sometimes I'd like to quit...nothing ever seems to fit...nothing to do but frown
Rainy days and Mondays always get me down.
Is this a Sign?
When I got in the car last night, to go do a radio interview about Big Brothers Big Sisters, "LOve Stinks" was on the radio. What a fun song, I thought. Haven't heard this in forever. I turned the volume up, had my window down (a balmy September night in Ithaca, it was) and sang along.
An hour later, after the interview (I'm such a microphone whore -- I love being interviewed, love the media, love it all), after talking in the parking lot with my friend Katie for 20 minutes, I got in the car. And guess what song was on the radio? Yup. "Love Stinks."
I'm not sure what it means.
An hour later, after the interview (I'm such a microphone whore -- I love being interviewed, love the media, love it all), after talking in the parking lot with my friend Katie for 20 minutes, I got in the car. And guess what song was on the radio? Yup. "Love Stinks."
I'm not sure what it means.
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Things my mother says....part 2
My parents came to Ithaca for dinner today. And dinner on a Sunday means 2 or 3. She told me that they would be arriving about 12:30. It was about 11:30, and I had just finished making cookies, the sauce was back on the stove and the kitchen was clean. I was dressed but still needed to do my hair and a little more picking up in the living room. I was sitting at the computer, IMing with B, straightening iron plugged in -- lots of time, right? Wrong.
"Hello...we're here."
"Is it 12:30 already?" I say, trying to sound sarcastic and not at the same time.
"We didn't have to stay at the hospital (where they volunteer on Sunday mornings) as long as we thought."
Great. So I finished with B, ran into the bathroom to do something with my hair. Fran walked upstairs, put something in my room, and came into the bathroom. "Oh wow, your hair is short."
Generally that's what happens when you cut 10 inches off. But I said nothing and nodded.
Downstairs, they were watching TV while I was puttering around the kitchen. And the 20 questions began. I'm not sure exaclty why she grates on my nerves when this happens, or why I'm not used to it, because it always happens.
"How's Jennifer? Now how old is her baby? Now are her brothers married? And her sister? Where do they live? Do they have kids? Have you talked to Kelly recently? How are they doing?" And on and on, until we've gone through all my high school friends and their marital status and child count.
I tried distracting her by giving her my vacation pictures to look at. Unfortunately, that just started in with a new set of questions about my friends from college. And then the ultimate: "You've got to tell your friends to stop getting married before you go broke. Or was Mike your last single friend?"
Yea....moms are fun, aren't they?
E-harmony update:
After going through my list of people, and putting "on hold" those who haven't gotten back to me in over a week, I am down to two that I have communicated with once and haven't heard back from, and two who have gone through all stages and I am waiting for an actual real e-mail from them. One is Dan from Binghamton (picture with the Yankees hat on) and Jeff from Syracuse.
"Hello...we're here."
"Is it 12:30 already?" I say, trying to sound sarcastic and not at the same time.
"We didn't have to stay at the hospital (where they volunteer on Sunday mornings) as long as we thought."
Great. So I finished with B, ran into the bathroom to do something with my hair. Fran walked upstairs, put something in my room, and came into the bathroom. "Oh wow, your hair is short."
Generally that's what happens when you cut 10 inches off. But I said nothing and nodded.
Downstairs, they were watching TV while I was puttering around the kitchen. And the 20 questions began. I'm not sure exaclty why she grates on my nerves when this happens, or why I'm not used to it, because it always happens.
"How's Jennifer? Now how old is her baby? Now are her brothers married? And her sister? Where do they live? Do they have kids? Have you talked to Kelly recently? How are they doing?" And on and on, until we've gone through all my high school friends and their marital status and child count.
I tried distracting her by giving her my vacation pictures to look at. Unfortunately, that just started in with a new set of questions about my friends from college. And then the ultimate: "You've got to tell your friends to stop getting married before you go broke. Or was Mike your last single friend?"
Yea....moms are fun, aren't they?
E-harmony update:
After going through my list of people, and putting "on hold" those who haven't gotten back to me in over a week, I am down to two that I have communicated with once and haven't heard back from, and two who have gone through all stages and I am waiting for an actual real e-mail from them. One is Dan from Binghamton (picture with the Yankees hat on) and Jeff from Syracuse.
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