Men wrangler

Me: So you're patching things up with him? Officially?

Bestie: Yep, seems so. I'm going to have to go back to living vicariously through you.

Me: If I had a dollar for every time I've heard that!

Bestie: You'd be able to afford a stable to corral all your men?


Hehe.

Pajama party

I'm pretty sure I shouldn't be panicking about pajamas. Panicking in the least crazy way possible, of course.

I've been sort of ambivalent about The Boy's arrival, and I haven't been able to figure out why. I should be so excited, but mostly, I have been annoyed about my pajamas. I have to wear cute pajamas while he's here, don't I? Don't I? Well, I don't want to. I don't.

But I don't have a choice.

So I will wear cute pajamas and, also, I will stop being logical. Because right now, logic is causing me to think about how vulnerable I feel. He will be in my space, in my single girl space, for an entire week. He's going to see everything. And honestly, it's scaring me. I don't want to be vulnerable. I'm just fine being closed off and distant and unavailable. I'm fine sleeping alone and staying up late working. I'm fine with "nothing special" and sleeping in former loves' t-shirts without judgment. Thankyouverymuch.

Forethought

Finding time to spend with The Doctor is difficult; neither one of us has a lot of spare time. We planned to see each other tonight, but then he asked if we could push it to Wednesday once I got off of work.

Sure, Wednesday is fine. But can I come to you?

Because, and this is the bad part, it's the forethought on my part. I know that The Boy will be here on Thursday morning. And I'm actively planning a slumber party with The Doctor Wednesday night. And to appropriately line them up, to keep it as seamless as possible, I know I must keep The Doctor out of my bed Wednesday. Clearly I won't have enough time to remove the evidence.

What Might Have Been.

I get it. I get that he's moving in a month. I get that The Boy will be here in four days to distract me. I get it.

Doesn't mean I'm not already missing The Doctor. Thinking mostly about this t-shirt of his that made its way to my house way back when. Is it tacky to return it? It feels tacky. But me having it around, despite never wearing it and it sitting on a shelf, it's bothersome. I don't like it. I don't like thinking of What Might Have Been.

The Line Up cont'd

I'm cutting it a bit close, The Boy and The Doctor.

Hey Doctor, can you get out of my bed long enough for me to change the sheets before The Boy's arrival?

Yes?

Thanks so much.

Breaking and entering

I asked a stranger to break into my house.

I locked myself out of my house, except my upstairs porch door was open. The one leading to my bedroom. There was a guy around, I'd seen him before, so he wasn't a total stranger, but no, I certainly don't actually know him. But he was around, and I was panicked. So I casually asked him if he'd shimmy up my porch and break into my bedroom.

Yeah? You will?

And then I became really self conscious after, what with him being a cute perfect stranger and seeing my bedroom and all.

The "R" Word

It feels like deja vu. Or perhaps it's my pattern. I make myself available to unavailable men. The Doctor described me as "smart" and "funny" and said that if he were staying, if he weren't leaving in a month, he would want to talk relationship with me. But he's leaving and no amount of "smart" and "funny" is going to make a difference.

Kissing cousins

Upon discussing my new guy friend, my roommate said, "the guy would be your cousin just to get to hang out with you."

What is this dynamic between men and women? Is it possible to be just friends? Or is it me? Am I shameless and boundary-less and unfettered by The Rules? Do I have any self-restraint? Any decorum? Am I that impulsive, that uninhibited, that slutty?

But, New Guy Friend, what's this? I just want a friend, but the edges are blurring. Is it him or me? Is it going to crash and burn at any moment? This precarious friendship? Because I gotta say, he is not my cousin.

How things didn't turn out

1AM
Dr: Hey

10AM
Me: Heyyyyy drunk texter

Dr: Arghh, sorry... I just missed you :)

Me: I don't really know what to do with you

Dr: Well that doesn't sound good

Me: Well stop being so cute! It's annoying!
Apologizing for drunk texts with flattery? Seriously?
I'm not mad if that's what you're thinking? I just don't know what to do

Dr: But you kinda are. I'm sorry, seems like a repeating cycle, not what I meant to do

Me: What are you meaning then? Let's just be up front

Dr: I don't have an agenda, it sounds like there are differing expectations, it sounds like in being casual I'm inadvertently messing with your head
Which I'm sorry for. Obviously I'm leaving soon, I really like hanging out with you, but clearly it can only be casual. But I upset you when I'm too casual.
What's your side?

Me: It went from one extreme to another, that's what it feels like. And yeah I work a ton but I'd be willing to make time if I felt it was reciprocatory

Dr: Well I'm attracted to you, hence the kissing. I didn't mean for it to be confusing, I understand that it is. And in my defense, I offered anytime but Monday this week
Is that all fair? Am I salvageable?

Me: Give me a min

...


Someone tell me that I'm not crazy, that I'm normal, that I'm allowed to be done with him, allowed to not drag it out, allowed be frustrated with how things turned out. How things didn't turn out. Let me not feel crazy for putting an entire private conversation on the web, because I need to feel okay. I need to feel like it wasn't me, it was him.

Is it okay that I think he's being callous? That I think his version of "casual" really equates into "nothing." What is he holding on to? Why is he holding on? Is it okay that I told him to give me a minute and then mulled it over for hours, hours, and still didn't know what to say? I think the sheer amount of time, hours, speaks for itself. I just kept thinking how final it would be if I told him that I officially no longer want to see him. And I tried to remove the he's-moving-far-away part. And then I tried to remove the doctor bit, as shallow as I am. Because what it boils down to is the bit where I wonder if my life would be better with him. Will I be happier? I'm quite happy on my own, would he make me more happy?

Four letter word

Love doesn't bother me until it's absence is thrown in my face. The fact that I'm not in love, no one loves me, it isn't a big deal, until the man whom I'm dating makes a reference to someone else being so in love - then it hits me, he's never going to love me.

It never mattered until now! Now, now that you mention the L word, but clearly not in reference to me, it feels significant. Essentially, right there, right then, that was you saying I will never love you.

But why does it matter?

D-bag equivalency?

Gaydar. Mine isn't great, I'll admit. Typically, when I kind of think a man is gay, everyone else around me knows he's gay. That's how it works with me.

Based on the same principle, can I judge whether or not a man is a Nice Guy? Just by looking? By tapping into my intuitive D-dar? You're not really sure, he does all the right things, is on time, acts interested, but is it real? Is he a Nice Guy? Is he just biding his time and drawing it out because he's an undercover douchebag?

The Doctor continues to text me randomly, asking how I am. Wanting to hang out? I'm not sure what kind of angle he's working here.

Enough! Enough!

Misplaced belongings and life goals

Late to family dinner. What's the obvious excuse with me? I woke up from a nap with some old standby in my bed. Oh hello, and where are your clothes?

The Boy is back in town

The Boy is coming to town.

While I was visiting him in Boston, I half seriously invited him as my date to a wedding in May. And then we all know how it's been since then, what with me removing all my eggs from his basket and all. But we still talk. We talk a few times a week. But it's nothing like it was pre-Boston.

I like to be emotionally severed when I can.

So I've been severed, but we've also been talking, but distant. I like him, I do, but I'm not going to keep getting my feelings hurt.

I'm sensing a self preservation pattern.

We talked last month about making this happen, about him coming to see me, but he wasn't sure, and I took that as a no. My feelings weren't hurt, it's just one of those things. But just recently, right after the Doctor had left post one of our great newly awkward dates, The Boy called. And asked if I still wanted him to come.

So he's coming. He will be here in less than two weeks.

I'm not sure what to do with this information.

Okay, now it's just weird

Hey, Doctor, hey. Let's not. Let's not. It's weird now. We have no foundation to carry this awkward part.

I give up. I.Give.Up.

And yet he perseveres. And I like him. Wait, do I?

But I suppose hanging out is fine, except that this hit or miss, this not seeing each other, based upon our non-foundation, it's not working. We've been sidelined to friends who used to kiss. We've been relegated to seeing each other for a couple hours once a week, usually sitting around trying to think of things to say, aside from the unspoken, the let's be done with this.

We're taking slow fade to a new level.

Extistence acknowledged...or not

The Married Ex. I'm over it. So over it. I'm not trying to be with him, I don't think about him, there's no bad blood, we've been done for years.

While there's no bad blood, no hurt feelings, there's also nothing. No relationship. No hey-wanna-be-friends-on-Facebook-because-it's-not-a-big-deal-and-I'm-married-and-you're-happy?

But I saw him at his brother's wedding last weekend. His new wife and him were both in the wedding party, and I thought a head nod would be acceptable. It would suffice. I think we can nod and right there, right then, it won't be weird. Because we acknowledged each others existence post our relationship.

But there was no head nod. Nothing. Just complete ignoring, even while standing four feet from each other. How awkward.

The Waiting Game

I picked up a waiter.

I made eyes at him over dinner with friends, passed him as I was leaving, made a general comment about the level of busy-ness, and now I have his number. And tentative plans to make out.

déjà vu?

Same bar. Same friends. Different night.

And just by chance, just because fate is playing this funny game with me, The Doctor was there.

Testing the waters

The Ex Ex, the old live-in, the one I haven't seen in almost two years, e-mailed me out of the blue last week, "just to catch up." Then, and I knew this would happen! Once I responded, he texted me about getting coffee sometime. Well. Sure.

Mostly out of curiosity, and perhaps to make your day that much more interesting post reading this, I accepted (oh yes, I give myself credit for your successful internet experience, I do. You didn't know my narcissism is quite agiven, just as my oh-so-special and caustic brand of sarcasm? No?). Sure, I'll have coffee with you, ex live-in.

I specifically wanted to have coffee, and just coffee, because there are not enough vodka tonics to justify falling back into that.

And we met, and, just to clear this up to all parties, he's exactly the same. Loud, obnoxious, cocky.

So that's done.

Coffee was fine. I've changed tremendously since he last saw me, switching to black coffee and all, so I think he may have been in some kind of shock. There were remarks. And the entire time, I was waiting for him to tell me that he's engaged, he's adopted an Asian baby, he has joined the seminary (should that be capitalized? Hmm.). You don't just randomly e-mail someone. You don't. Especially your former live-in girlfriend. There is always a reason. And I wanted to know said reason.

It was all pretty standard stuff, him talking my ear off, me listening and realizing just how much my demeanor has changed. Being around him took me back to The Beginning of us four years ago. If I think I'm manic now, then whoa. I wouldn't have wanted to know me then.

So, yes, standard stuff, then his latest live-in moving out comes up, and AHA! here we go. They're technically "on a break." But he actually said that when I left him, when I walked out two years ago, it was months before he could function. And with her, he doesn't really care (this is all in his cocky, oversure voice, of course.). Honesty, on a his level at least. Bizarre. His cocky-but-I'm-wounded honesty. And her clothes are still in the closet and they are sharing custody of their golden retriever. We certainly didn't have a dog. And my stuff was out within days. I told him perhaps the gradual part of it made a difference, because I am not trying to go back down that road, but what is he saying? What's he not saying?

Exception v the Rule

Secretly, I always want to be The Exception. I'm The Rule. Most of us are, it's not news. It shouldn't make me feel upset. It shouldn't make us, women, as a collective, as a whole, feel upset. That's ridiculous! Most men are The Rule for me. You, too, don't lie. They're The Rule. And, well, actually, all of them are The Rule for me thus far.

It's the ego thing. It doesn't matter that I don't really like this guy. I still want him to fawn over me. I don't even have enough time to compile my list of vapid reasons for why he isn't right for me before feeling slighted. He's not tall enough, he's vegan?!, he doesn't have a real job, he was married before, he lives far away, he's emotionally unavailable, he's annoying the shit out of me, he's never been in a real relationship, he doesn't know who Bukowski is, he smokes. Ringing true?

We don't even like him. We're just obsessed with ourselves.

Now I'm projecting.

So.

I just read an article in the very fancy Glamour magazine, and there was a quote in there along the lines of:

If a man likes you, you'll know,
but if he doesn't, you'll be confused.

So that's it: The Exception. The Rule. Let's not be confused. Let's stop being so egocentric, and so angry that a date, multiple dates, texts, seeing his friends around town like it's your job, dating other people, sex - it doesn't all equate into true love for every man you meet.

I'm projecting again.

NBD

The Comedian. The Comedian. The great part of this dating business, this single business, is the wonderful plethora of men I meet, of chance encounters, of it not necessarily being A Big Deal.

The Comedian: it was hit or miss. A chance thing. Everything is a chance thing. It felt more chance-like though, if that makes any kind of sense. There was much talking. And it felt easy, and like I was suddenly eloquent. Edited. I sounded Edited. Honest, but also eloquent.

This is an infrequent occurrence.

I think about my life, about how things are so ephemeral. Right now? No, always. Things are always ephemeral. Things are constantly changing, and it shouldn't be such a big deal. And perhaps this makes the title of this post a moot point?

Things are constantly changing, men are constantly rotating, and as much as I want that comfort, the cuddling, the confidante; I really don't. I don't want the strings, the communication, the compromise. I want what I want.