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

A little new to this...

I feel a bit like an asshole for not spending a lot of time designing a perfect blog page, but as my design skills are limited and I have a lot of not very much to say, I figured I should get right down to the saying nothing part instead of torturing myself with hours spent in bitter struggle with Adobe Design Suite. So there you have it, the fundamental things about me: I'm a Mac girl and I love, love, love run-on sentences. Not much of a basis for a blog, but it is what it is.

Perhaps I should introduce myself. I have a very cool job which I love, I have many boy sort of friends whom I don't actually love, but who will probably figure prominently in future posts, I'm a basically happy person, it's arguable that I drink too much, and I like the color orange. (Nothing rhymes with orange as far as I know, but that's not why I like it.)

So normally I wouldn't start off a conversation with a bitch session about how horrible my ex-boyfriend is, but tonight I have a really bad ex-boyfriend story (or really good ex-boyfriend story, depending on what the meaning of the word "is" is), so I'm going to get it off my chest:

There's this guy. We'll call him Jeff #1 because he has a common first name and I know a lot of guys that share it. Anyway, Jeff #1 and I dated briefly last year. He's an alcoholic real estate agent. At first he was fun, but then he became less so, so we parted ways. We first broke up in August or September of last year. We barely talked for a long time, but then he started being nice so we talked on the phone a couple of times... A totally familiar, totally pathetic beginning to a story. Long story short, I went on vacation to Mexico with him and a few (30 or so) of his family members right after Christmas. Well. That opened a can of worms. We've had a bit of drama since then, obviously all because I was stupid enough to go on vacation with an ex and his family. (In my defense I think it's important to point out that a) he REALLY wanted me to go, B) it represented a new stamp in my passport, and C) he and his folks had offered to pick up my entire tab, booze included.) We had a really wonderful time in Mexico. He was nice the whole time (which is remarkable for him) and his family are wonderful, wonderful people that I would like to keep. But can't. Obviously.

We got back from our trip and he started being drunk and obnoxious all the time again so I had to sort of reinstate the break-up. Not that we'd gotten back together explicitly, but anytime you even TALK to an ex it's almost a tacit reconciliation, as you know. So after the new break-up I "screwed my courage to the sticking place" as Shakespeare put it, and resolved not to ever talk to him again. It's been hard because at first I kind of loved him still. Luckily for me, he's been sending me a constant stream of texts that are so freakin' obnoxious that he's effectively destroyed any kind feelings I had left for him. Idiotic jokes at first, which were bad enough -- random things that only sort of rhymed with Holy Driver such as, "What do you call a priest who writes things down?" This would be the "teaser" text. A few seconds later I'd get the answer: "Holy Scriber". Seriously. He's not that bright. Or maybe he is bright, but he's so drunk off his ass all the time that he sounds like a drunk asshole. I'm gonna go with option B on that one. A and B actually. He really isn't all that bright.

So starting last night, and for reasons I have a hard time imagining because it's been a good 5 weeks since we talked, he started sending me sexually explicit texts. I was irritated last night when (while I was hosting a little get-together at my new place) he texted me about some aspect of our sex life that he really missed. I was totally fucking livid, however, when he sent me a text tonight claiming he "still misses [my] pussy, ass and clit". (I hope you're not totally offended. I was.) Now it's not like we had some really freaky thing going on. We were two adults having a normal (ish) relationship with normal physical interaction. And we haven't seen each other in weeks, so WTF? Rude. I was in just the right mood to text back, which normally I totally eschew, texting being, as I mentioned, a virtual invitation to new drama with an ex, so I did (text back, that is). And by "in just the right mood" I mean, "in a state of having had four or so beers". What I texted was, "Fuck u". Short and sweet, right? What he texted back was, "Cum on! we'll b friends again when u grow up." OMG. But I'm still calm-ish because I AM a grown up. So I very grown-up-ish-ly (not, actually) texted back, "Send me 1 more sexually explicit txt and I'll put a restraining order on u. AND call your mom." (Because he cares a lot about what his family thinks of him, and I happen to adore his mother. It was basically an empty threat. It would be really uncomfortable for me to put a woman that I like and respect into an uncomfortable position.) That seemed to strike a nerve because he's now sent me 10 or so new texts describing me as a bitch and outlining how he'll retaliate and informing me as to how go about obtaining a restraining order. Sounds a little aggressive and abusive. Sheesh. Don't worry about me, kids, but take this as a lesson. Don't date alcoholics, don't allow ex-boyfriends who are still completely in love with you to goad you into interacting with them by trotting out increasingly bad behavior (this is psychology 101, folks), and for chrissake, don't bring their mom into it.

Anyway, thanks for listening,

Marcy