evening freeform

So what should I talk about now? The rise and fall of Greg F? How little I give a fuck that Michael Jackson is gone? The mysterious revulsion-slash-attraction I have for... what's gonna work here? initials won't do it. last names won't do it. His first name is suspiciously obvious. I need a nickname. Where's Chris when you need her? Anywhoo... this could be bad. (Whew. Walk it out.) Honesty. Okay. I love being around him, but he's just not someone that I'd want to spend all weekend in bed with. Oh god. It's the facial hair and the gut and the little...

But he's so great in every other way... God damn it. This is totally the way it goes.

But you know what? It's fun to hang out with someone who has toys. Why shouldn't I have a little fun? I ENJOY his company. I have for years! ...longer than this has been an issue... It's not like I'm trying to wrap my whole life up in something. I rarely see him. I don't think he expects that I'm just sitting at home while he's not around. I don't think he'd start expecting it....

So. We spend some time here and there. It's not like it would be a total scandal if I went on a little trip with him. They'd barely notice I was gone. Plus I'm a grownup. They can't say I can't go see him if I want to. What's the big deal? I'm interested in his project. It's really not any of their business.

They'll have opinions. Okay. I just have to expect that I would be the topic of conversation. So maybe I don't say where I'm going. Mystery man? Family obligation? I'd have to tell him that I was sneaking around, otherwise he might accidentally say, "When Marcy and I were in..." and then every head would turn. 5 coworkers, maybe 30 interested parties, and even people I don't know who know me... "So who's that guy Marcy's been spending time with?" Oh god. In galleries... Right now there is plausible deniability. Or do I want to deny it? Maybe not. He's awesome to be around. He's fun. He knows food and our conversations sparkle... and... oh! there's that guy. What a loser. ...but he's hot!

What? Two days off?

I almost never have two whole days off in a row this time of year, but this week I got an actual weekend. I want to remember this to get me through the long, slow slog of summer, so I'm writing it down.

Friday: woke up early, answered emails from bed for a while, went into work at 10:30, left at 11:30 to pick up lunch (crab cakes from the Blue Star, best in town) for me, my hairdresser and his partner, went and got my hair done for two hours. Left the salon, went home and changed clothes, went by the printer's and had a lovely conversation with the manager while they packaged my order, went to back to work. Did more emails for about half an hour, had a meeting with PV who told me I was beautiful and had great eyes (poor boy, he's had a heartbreakingly unrequited crush for three years now). Had a productive, laugh-filled meeting with MK and JL, both of whom I totally adore. Packed up the car with cases, drove to my event, met nice people, talked about beer, drank beer, bid on a silent auction item in my slightly elevated state because it was a GREAT piece and a steal at $350, won, went to an after party, went to an after, after party. Came home.

Saturday: got up early, answered emails from bed for a while, facebooked, decided to go to breakfast. Here's where it gets interesting: tried to go to the golf course for food, but realized (thanks to my handy wi-fi track ap) that they don't have wi-fi. Decided to go to Adams in Manitou because they do have wi-fi, but was foiled by the un-bright, truculent teenaged hostess. So I decided to go to my favorite lunch place which has wi-fi, nice people, great food and (I serendipitiously remembered) a breakfast menu on the weekends. On the drive over, I receive yet another text from asshole Greg. (We've decided to call him Greg F, to distinguish him in conversation from Greg D. The D and the F are to indicate the grades they'd get if we got graded on our lives.) Greg F wanted to know if we could get together and talk because he doesn't want things to be weird between us if we ever run into each other. We won't run into each other, and I don't want to talk (despite my general policy of staying friends with my exes -- I'll make an exception for him). Trav suggests, in fact, that I never speak to him again, which is dramatic considering that he's never said a bad word about any of my boyfriends in the 20 years since I started dating.

Anyway, it's now probably 9:30. I get there and the owner's girlfriend is sitting in her SUV in front of the restaurant. She calls me over: "Hey, gorgeous!", so I go say hi. I tell her about my current problems: severe caffeine depletion, hunger, wi-fi frustration, and Greg F texts. She laughed. "Things will always be weird between you and him and him and the rest of the world because he's weird!" Also, the restaurant doesn't open until 11:00 (apparently it's more of a brunch menu), but that I was welcome to go in and work anyway. She also gave me a cookie to tide me over. So I get a to-go Americano from next door, poke my head into the kitchen to tell the chef I'm sitting at the bar, whip out the computer and take a bite of cookie.

Halfway through the cookie, which I was eating kind of slowly, focusing my energy instead on trying to acquire a connection and also trying to absorb some caffeine, I realized that the cookie was a special cookie. Yay! And then my sister texted me: R U coming over soon? I need ur help. So clearly work was not in the picture for me. I packed up, said bye to the chef and headed out to the house.

While there, I borrowed a designer suit of hers for a thing on Wednesday, painted with my mom in her studio and took apart a motherboard for her multi-media art pieces that she's been doing. It was great, made more so by my being halfway through a 7 hour cookie high. The help Em needed was in breaking a date. "You're good at breaking up with guys!" Thanks, sweetie. She's a litigating attorney. You'd think she'd be better at that sort of thing.

At noon, my mom and I made each other sandwiches (because sandwiches always taste better when someone else makes them) and then I left. I had to race back downtown to meet Michele. I got to the house 3 minutes before she was supposed to pick me up for our goat cheese making class. We drove half an hour out of town to some lady's house in a semi-rural neighborhood. She has 4 ducks, 5 goats and about a dozen chickens. She showed us the animals and the eggs that the birds had laid that day, then we milked a goat, took the milk inside and made goat cheese. Then we ate goat cheese. It was awesome! I have a feeling that outing would have been perfectly zen and wonderful even if I wasn't still riding a sweet little mellow high, but I was and so it seemed like the coolest field trip I'd ever been on.

Em came over almost immediately after I got home. We had a glass of wine and she helped me pick out an outfit for my date. I went to Nosh and left her here. And then I had a really lovely time with a hot intellectual who shares my birthday (I don't know why that seems weird). He's so hip it almost hurts to look at him, and he's dry and ironic. And he's smarter than me and more well-traveled than me. I may have been a little intimidated, but I'm not very familiar with that emotion, so I'm not really sure.

We sat at the table and talked and drank wine and ate tapas for 3 hours probably. Then we went to The Metropolitan and talked to the new owner. Then we went to his place. I had already decided we'd go to his house, because you can tell so much about a guy by where and how he lives. I was dying of curiosity. It was far better than expected. Clean, hip, super modern. Not as many books as you'd expect in the home of a college professor. The sex was amazing. I basically haven't had good sex since I broke up with Greg D in November, unless you count the couple of times that I've bootie-called Greg D since then. Sigh. Seriously, though. Excitingly great package, great body, solid technique. I had multiple orgasms! I do NOT remember it being that good the first time or it wouldn't have been so long since I've seen him. (And for that matter I never would have wasted time with Greg F.) I need to not get all wrapped up though. I don't think I will. I feel pretty level-headed about him, and luckily he'll be in Europe most of the summer.

Anyway, we got up this morning and went to La Baguette for breakfast. I resisted jumping his bones. I should have. What was I thinking? I'm not coy. I wanted it! Damn. Oh well.

Then I read on the porch for a while, and admired my freshly mown lawn. (TD called at breakfast and asked if it was okay if he came over and mowed. I thanked him profusely and said that yes, a friendly gift of yard work is always welcome!) Then I called Trav for a little father's day chat -- I'm pretty sure the dog forgot to mention it. Then I got a text from the good doctor saying he'd like to see me again in the "very near future", so that was nice. Then I called my dad and had a great chat.

Then I went to pick up the kids from mom's since Grandma had taken them to church. I had another great visit with them. We played two games of Scrabble and I realized for the first time that Mom is really competitive. It kind of shocked me that in my thirties, I'm still learning stuff about her. We ended up staying until 8:00. Oh, and then Jake very sweetly told me he loved me, that he was glad I was his mom and that I'm "very spoil-able". Oh and he volunteered to carry Zoe in from the car since she was asleep by the time we got here. He said, "I'll carry the little meatloaf." He's so funny and angelic. Eight is my new favorite age for him.

After I put the kids to bed I started playing on the computer. Oh, and I realized that there's no way in hell the piece of furniture I bought at the auction will fit in this house. Stupid booze.

So. Maybe it was a good weekend because I barely spent ten minutes alone, but it was like a blissed out mini-vacay nonetheless.

Housework is much more fun when you're chatting someone up.

I've been nursing the same beer for two hours. It's a Malheur, a 10%ABV Belgian with a pronounced barnyard-y twang. It's actually better now than when I opened it: the esters aren't quite so overwhelming and the carbonation has settled down a bit. Still, the fact that I haven't been able to finish even one beer makes me think that perhaps I wasn't in the mood for a beer after all.

I don't like to drink alone. I don't like to eat alone. I don't like to exercise alone. I am not suited to employment that doesn't keep me around people. I'd make a terrible hermit, so Unibombering is right out, and I'd probably be a poor candidate for being marooned on a desert island.

This is the thing that I need to get over. When I don't have a boyfriend (i.e. someone who is either hanging out with me or open to receiving late phone calls), I lose weight because nothing sounds good enough to eat to be worth the trouble of making or ordering it. I lose sleep because I stay up way too late reading, dicking around on the internet or blathering on my secret blog. I'm a truly extroverted person. I do fine with roommates, I love entertaining, and I can work 50 or 60 hours a week for a month before realizing that having a rewarding, social job is not the same as having a rewarding social life.

When I was in my early twenties I solved this problem by working full time, going to school full time and partying like a rock star. That's all great, but a lifestyle like that could kill you if you let it go on too long. Now of course, it's all different. I still pack in social and work stuff on the 3 or 4 nights a week I don't have my kids, but on the nights I do have them, things are pretty calm. I do stuff with them till they go to bed, but after 8:30 or so, I tiptoe around a quiet house and entertain myself with activities like trying to drink a whole beer or sweeping the floors. I need a hobby. My goal is to figure out how to maintain my energy level without having somebody else around.

So right now, I guess I'll go to bed, sober and not all that tired, because that's what grownups do. Right?

Pardon me for a moment...

... I'm going to lapse into a full-on "Dear Diary" bitch session. Feel free to skip this one.

I've been reflecting more on my idea that spring triggers some sort of biological imperative that makes men want to be in a relationship. I'd like to expand it, given my track record over the last month, to posit simply that springtime biological urges make men do crazy things. Either that or I was visited by the pheromone fairy (pheromone phairy?) in my sleep. April was a rough month for me. GS, the one who was "going to be [my] friend for the next 40 years", exhibited some truly bad behavior: first, refusing to leave my house when I asked him to, saying "no, I think I'll hang out for a while until you calm down". What?! Why did I even speak to him again? (Well, I know why. Our sons are friends and we've developed a business relationship that is very mutually beneficial. I'd hate to throw that away, so I've been trying to be nice. Besides, GS was my last real boyfriend. We broke up just after Thanksgiving last year. I hate to just cut people out of my life completely, especially if they never really did much wrong, apart from being wrong for me...)

Then, I caught him in a couple of lies. He told me he'd spoken to Don who'd told him of Jeff #4 that he (Don) could have told either of us that it wouldn't work. Don a) is very professional, and b) introduced us, hoping we'd hit it off, so that was clearly wrong, but I didn't pursue it until a few days later when GS told me that he'd spoken to the gal who was once married to Jeff #5 and said she'd mentioned that we'd be a terrible match. That was an act of obvious desperation -- she's a therapist and wouldn't volunteer an opinion like that AND she'd explicitly told me that she thought we'd be great. So I checked and sure enough... So I confronted him, and after a full 10 minutes of "I'd never lie to you!" and "I swear to god, it's the truth!" he blundered into a really obvious falsification and had to come clean. His excuse? "I wasn't trying to sabotage your relationships; I just knew those guys weren't right for you!) Does that sound stalker-ish or what? So I think he is a little bit stalking me, because he's been at every event I had mentioned in the last few months -- the Earth Day celebration, a movie screening that I was loosely connected with, even a restaurant I was at for a kids' playdate that we'd scheduled way in advance... I believe he's harmless. When I see him out, it seems that all the testosterone, self-confidence, and joie-de-vivre has been sucked out of him. Sad, but no longer my problem.

Oh, and Jeff #4 ended 6 days after I told him I was ready to give it a try. (I actually introduced him as my boyfriend to a couple of people!) He had a middle of the night freak-out and accused me of ignoring him ("Of course I'm ignoring you -- I'm sleeping!!), got out of bed, got dressed and, after a short but heated discussion, went home. I could of de-escalated it by stroking his ego and playing into his histrionic fantasy, but I decided not to, because, give me a fucking break -- the guy is obviously suffering from a major case of arrested development. He's 40 years old for chrissake. I was ready to let him leave. Anyway, I was feeling morally superior for having been the victim of an unfair breakup until I saw on his facebook page that he was spinning it that I broke up with him. Whatever, dude. Have it your way.

And I had to let Jeff #5 go because it had become clear to me that I just wasn't ever going to feel any more for him than I did right then. He was disappointed. I hate disappointing people.

So maybe GS was right. Not that that enters into it. Then GJ pointed out to me that a good way to stop making bad decisions regarding men would be to start make good decisions regarding men, so I'm going to try that for a while.

Parenting Rule #1

Since before I had children, I've always maintained that my number one goal in raising kids would be to try to avoid becoming the main subject of their future therapy sessions. Everyone's a little screwed up, but no one should ever have to be screwed up because of something their mom did or didn't do. That is why tonight, I had to suppress my gag reflex and eat a deviled egg.

I should mention my relationship with eggs, I guess, since I know not everyone feels the same way about them that I do. I'm really a little bit grossed out by eggs. It's not a taste issue; in the past I have actually quite liked the hot, runny yoke of a poached egg on toast. And back when I allowed myself to eat such things, I was especially fond of the crunchy edges of an over-easy egg that had been fried, as my dad does, in bacon grease. 

It's not a moral issue; I'll eat a chicken, and when it comes right down to it, I don't think cows and chickens feel particularly exploited in the transaction of giving up their milk and eggs in exchange for free food and protection from predators.

It's the idea of eating an ovum of another animal that has me a little queasy. I've heard eggs called "liquid chickens" before and that doesn't even capture the full grossness of it for me. Eggs are a little on par with rocky mountain oysters, in my opinion. They're part of the reproductive cycle. You're eating sex, and not in a good way. It's an embryo, for crying out loud.

Most of the time I have the mental fortitude to overlook this minor shortcoming of eggs. I cook with them. You can't make a creme brulée without separating a few yolks. I'll even sometimes eat them outright, as long as it's disguised or covered up so that I don't have to look at the sheer egg-ness of it. For instance, scrambled eggs in a breakfast burrito are fine with me. Smothered in green chili on huevos rancheros, also acceptable. Hard boiled eggs are right out. Deviled eggs are even worse, because on top of looking like an egg, they also (again, in my humble opinion) taste like crap.

That said, the kind and wise person knows that one should never reject a gift from a child.

Jake is in a cooking class at school and today was egg day. He's 8 and sweet and still says stuff like, "Mom, the chamber of love I have for you is wider than space." I want to keep it that way. Thus, when he offered to make me dinner using his newly acquired recipe for deviled eggs, I found it kind of impossible to discourage him. He took a single (thank god) hard boiled egg that he had made in class, which had been sitting in his backpack, unrefrigerated, for probably 3 hours and made, with his angelic, dirty little hands, a deviled egg. He requested sea salt to season it. I ate it and gushed on and on about how delicious it was, fully willing myself not to get food poisoning, make a face, or gag. 

His bashful, blushing grin made it entirely worth it... until he announced his intention to make me breakfast tomorrow with his other new recipe: egg salad.

 

a step in the right direction.

Maybe I've mentioned that I don't really like to be alone. I have a tendency to fill up my life with more than I can reasonably handle, just so I don't have to be by myself all the time. In college I always worked full time, got straight A's, and maintained an active (sometimes too active) social life. Then I got married, had kids, worked, entertained... Then I got a divorce. We separated just after the holidays last year. I moved from our house into a friend's house. It was meant to be a for just a few months, but I ended up living with her for 14 months. I'm way too old for that shit. It's undignified for a woman in her 30's to share living space with a person she's not sleeping with or to whom she did not give birth. I guess there are exceptions. I'm not saying my roommate was undignified. I guess with good deeds as with everything else, it's better to give than to receive.

It's not that I can't ever be alone, but I don't like sleeping alone (that is without someone else in the house -- I'm fine when my kids are here and tucked into their beds). I also don't like going to restaurants or movies alone. I don't enjoy exercising alone either; as far as I'm concerned, if you're by yourself it's work, if you're with someone it's play.

Last night though, I came home alone and slept alone peacefully. Actually, I overslept which I almost never do, and ended up missing a brunch with some gal pals. Bummer. Anyway, this morning I got up, cleaned the house naked (HUGE perk to being alone), had some coffee, blogged, facebooked, and emailed my friend to ask if she was okay with me going out with Jeff #5. (She is.) Then I went on a bike ride all by myself. It seems ridiculous that this is a big deal, but I just hate to ride alone. It seems boring to be without a friend or a destination, and I'm a little nervous. What if I get hit by a car? What if I have a flat (I don't generally ride with a kit)? What if there's a creepy guy or a big dog or I get lost? It's like I'm 9 years old. I'm a little ashamed of my total lack of bravery. The weird thing is that if I'm with anyone, even a little 4 year old or my grandmother, I'm totally confident -- worries don't even enter my mind. I should think about what that means. Anyway, I did it. It wasn't as fun as some other rides I've been on, but it didn't suck. And I got a little work out. So, yay me!

After my ride, I came home, did some more work, my mom dropped by and we had an iced coffee and chatted about her art. Then I went up to have dinner with my ex and kids, played some Boggle and brought them home. So from last night until about 2:00 this afternoon, I succeeded in entertaining myself. I didn't even call any of the boys. I'm a little proud.

tots,

Marcy

water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink

I really want a boyfriend, and apparently I'm in an upswing, popularity-wise. I can't figure out why this is. I've actually been feeling a little melancholy lately instead of my über-cheerful self, so it's not that my personality has improved, unless you want to argue that cheerful and happy is irritating, which can certainly be true. I like to think that I can pull it off, though. 

It's not anything really about the way that I look. I'm the same size, wearing the same clothes and doing my hair and makeup the same as I was last month. Well, I did get my hair cut today, but that doesn't really figure into the story. I guess it just comes in waves. 

I really don't think it's me. Instead, I believe that men are such primitive creatures that as soon as the weather begins to warm up and spring approaches, their biological ticks start clocking and they're just wild to find a partner to curl their toes with. Seriously. I didn't get asked out much at all in February. The vernal equinox passes and all of sudden boys are coming out of the woodwork. 

So far this spring (I guess we're seven days into it now), my ex-boyfriend G.S. announced that he plans to be my "friend for the next 40 years" and that oh-by-the-way, he loves me; an older friend (probably 30 years my senior) has been acting interested: invited me to lunch, to come over and tell him how to rearrange his stuff, tousled my hair, etc. -- all the usual flirting moves. D.W., who I was certain just wasn't that into me, considering that the last time we hung out (January time frame) he told me he really like me and wanted to spend more time with me and then never called again, asked me out yesterday and has called three times today and fb messaged me twice. His comment was "I've been wanting to reconnect again". Asshole. Doesn't he know that I know that he blew me off? I'm assuming an ex-girlfriend came back in the picture for a bit.

Sweet, funny, talented Jeff #4 is apparently pining away for me. I need to nip that one in the bud. It has the potential to end badly.  Jeff #5 asked for my phone number (sort of) and called me today. (Little trivia: Jeff5 was introduced to me by yet another Jeff, who does not get a number because he's married and thusly will never be in my dating pool.) I'm holding off calling him back because shortly after I gave him my number I learned that he was once married to a casual friend of mine. Oh the drama. I have an email in to her to ask if he's a standup guy and if she has a problem with it.

Another ex-boyfriend, "Chicago", texted me while I was out on a "friendship date" with G.S. to say that he's coming to town soon and would love to get together for "six beers". And in case you're wondering, a friendship date is a social engagement whereby the parties, having explicitly established that there is no hope of getting laid or rekindling a dating relationship, nevertheless go out on the town for the express purpose of light flirting and being seen. The date initiator pays and it's bad form to accept any more than two friendship dates in a row without reciprocating with an invitation. Rules, rules, rules. There are rules for dating, rules for not dating, rules for when to have sex or when to stop...

PV also asked me out again, twice in two days, after having given up for six weeks. I can't date him even though he's attractive, smart (enough) and gainfully employed. Judging by the slightly desperate sounding calls I got for weeks after going with him to a party in February, I think there's definite stalker potential there.

So what did I do this weekend? Instead of going to a party at Chuck's house intending to expand my social circle and then heading to an Earth Hour black out party with the same agenda, I let lunch with my sister turn into an all-day/all-night affair, complete with shopping, silly movies (yeah, we watched The Hot Chick and liked it) and Yahtzee. It was great, obviously, because I love and miss my sister, but come on. I'm never going to find a boyfriend at this rate.

toodles,

Marcy