One Week

As I lay in bed last night, fighting to find sleep after watching a frustrating Steelers loss, random thoughts sprinted through my mind. I hit a theme that entertained me for a while.

One Week is a song by the Barenaked Ladies. It's probably close to 15 years old but I had to do the math to figure that out. I associate this song with a trip to Cleveland. I lived in an apartment then, I remember meeting up with Gretchen and Michele to leave for the trip from there. I've been in this house for 13 and a half years and lived in the apartment for about three and a half years. So about15 years ago. We road tripped to Cleveland to visit Alexis and I used any excuse to play that song as much as possible. Being the first song on the CD, we listened to it as the first song and then the last song before we switched CDs. I'm sure they were sick of the song by the end of the trip but I felt like it was/is my personal theme song.  It was before anyone of them had kids. Now, they all do. We went to a club on the Flats on Saturday night and drank a lot that night. Two drinks now and I'm either toasted or passed out. Things have changed quite a bit.

One week is how much longer I'll be 42. I tried to focus on the blessings in my life, things for which I am thankful, what with it being Thanksgiving. I listed them mentally, even including my dogs who were snoring away, and still dwelled on 43. Then I thought about how I should get a Troy Polamalu jersey because his number is 43 and I'll be 43, he's one of my favorite Steelers, and I would be 43 like his jersey. I like Heath Miller too but I doubt I'll be lucid enough at 83 to think about jerseys and he won't be playing then anyway. Like I said, random. But I came back to 43. My life is as together as it's going to get. But I don't feel much like celebrating it. The thought of a family dinner isn't exciting. I'm not sure I want singing or cake. I sort of want to time travel to 8 days from now. Let's just get it over with and be 43 already. Then I don't have to think about another passing year. Another year of my life of having so much, but having one lone thing elude me. I don't want to have to think about having spent another year by myself. And I certainly don't want to think about the possibility of spending another year the same way. So forgive me if I feign a smile in one week. I'll be better in eight days. Now I just need a song about 8 days to remind me of that.

So it has come to this.

I'm starting to feel bipolar. Sunday night, elation; Monday morning, dispair. That might be a bit exaggerated, but my Monday wasn't stellar to say the least. I was a little grouchy at school, then came home to more grouchy and unmotivated. My motivation found me around 11 pm. When productivity strikes, I take advantage. Dishwasher unloaded, some laundry dealt with, general straightening, kitchen table unearthed. That perpetuates the vicious cycle of staying up way too late and being tired after school the next day. Thereby, a nap ensues, I'm up too late, need a nap the next day, and so on, and so on.... A break for Thanksgiving is near, so hopefully this will allow balance to return.

My dogs are spoiled. This is not a big shock. In fact, I am stating the obvious. A few recent incidents have reinforced this statement. Tally is the beagle that has lived in my house the longest. I think it's been about four and a half years. She was very timid when she came to my house and was definitely not alpha dog material. When she is the only dog at home, she is anxious. And I mean destroying stuff, chewing on her crate until she breaks a tooth, knocking the crate over to escape out the bottom anxious. She won't go in her crate, runs around like a nut, barks and cries. Another beagle in the house? She is calm and crates eagerly, waiting for her treat. Really, she can't handle the pressure of alpha dog and relinquishes the role willingly. And she is a sissy when she doesn't get her way. Imagine bed time, all the lights are off and all living creatures are staking claim to their spot for the night. Tally has learned that Niko, the I-think-I-am-a-big-dog shih tzu, positions himself at the bottom of the bed to try to intimidate other dogs from jumping up. Tally has outsmarted him by coming to the side of the bed. She jumped up, weighed her choices of sleeping spots and went to move toward the bottom of the bed. She will snuggle on her terms and that night was a negative snuggle night. Niko barked at her to voice his displeasure at her choice. She immediately retreated to my side, cowering a bit, and then lay right against me for protection. I'm not sure if she buried her face under the comforter for warmth or for pride. This morning, I had just stepped in the shower when I heard a single whiny yelp. Tally had selected her post-breakfast napping spot and it was a place that Niko had been choosing lately. She was sounding the alarm that he was intruding on her space. When I finally made it the living room, no one was on that chair. I'm not sure who won that battle, but I'm sure her feelings were hurt. Luckily, they'll get the next five and half days of my attention to heal all wounds.

Finally, in my favorite, "you are dead to me" move, I have deleted a contact from my phone. The guy from Hershey no longer exists. I really thought he'd call me back. I had a moment of feeling pathetic. Well, more than one. I was asked what I wanted for my birthday, and before I could filter my own response, I said 'a boyfriend'. Geez, I really am a 7th grader.

The illusion

I had a good weekend. On Sunday night, that feeling made me want to pinpoint what made it feel 'good'. More accurately, I should state I had the illusion of a good weekend. There wasn't anything spectacular about it.

Friday nights I often crash. This past Friday was no different. The effort it takes to hold my life together all week makes me collapse into a worthless heap of human. I veg out with reruns of Monk. Saturday, I had great intentions of getting up early and knocking out some shopping before lunchtime. Well, I left my house around 11:45- does that count? Next exactly the 9:45 I had hoped. Within two hours, I had achieved success. I found two pairs of badly needed boots for this season. I had all the intention of getting black and brown in different styles, but didn't find brown ones that I liked in my size so I did the next best thing. Bought the same style as the black ones. The two pairs of clearance shoes were a bonus. Seriously, two pairs for $30- who can resist that! Clothes shopping was just as successful. I was in need of basics, even though I'm starting to think you actually can have too many pairs of black pants. I was a little disappointed in the selection of sweaters and tops, but not enough to go to another store. After eating lunch, I managed a trip to the gym to try again to break the one mile mark. Not this time. But after a few minutes of walking in the middle, I ran another quarter mile. My next experiment will include cross training to increase cardiovascular endurance. Saturday night was enough to make anyone jealous. I got to dog sit for my mom's dog. They wanted to go out to dinner and, because of his recent health concerns, haven't left him alone in about week. Basically, I watched him sleep. But I got paid with a cup of minestrone, so I have no complaints.

Sunday was bitter cold with a biting wind. My Sunday mornings for the past six months have included my Weight Watchers meeting. I hit 10% this week (based on my weight when I started, I lost 10% of my weight). After that, I wanted to get a couple things done and then hunker down at home with an afternoon of NFL. Quick trips to Ulta and Bed, Bath and Beyond accomplished my list, followed by Best Buy to scout out the present my sister will be getting me for birthday/Christmas. Then I was home to watch a Steelers win. During the late afternoon game, I made veggie soup and roasted butternut squash. If you've never tried to wrestle a butternut squash, brace yourself. I think I know how an orthopedic surgeon feels. The late NFL games was a great match up. Two quarterback that I dislike in below freezing temps makes for entertainment. When faced with deciding who I wanted to win, I was reminded of the game Phoebe played on "Friends". Given a choice, the first answer you give without thinking is what you really feel. Patriots (Brady) versus Broncos (Manning) and I picked Peyton. I almost surprised myself. The overtime will make today a little rough.

So what was it that had me feeling pleasant and positive- hell, almost optimistic on a Sunday night? It could be that we're approaching a break from school.  But I don't think that's it. It could be that December is right around the corner. Although the temptation to resist Christmas cookies might be torture, so that's probably not it either. I'm going to give up trying to figure out what it is, and just enjoy it. I'm happy with what I'm doing and where I'm going, so I'm going to let it ride. And keep my fingers crossed that it continues.

Blah, meh, yucky- whatever you want to call it.

I'm feeling discouraged today. And a little angry. So another night with no phone call makes me want to send a text like, "I thought you had more integrity". Seriously, don't say you're going to call in a specific time frame if you have no intention of calling. Something vague like, "we'll talk later," would work. If things are so crazy that you can't talk, send a text. Something. I feel like there is a black hole associated with my dating life that sucks up anything near it.

As if that black hole weren't enough reason to dive into a pint of Ben and Jerry's, there's my Couch to 5K. I can run a mile. Realistically, it's a jog but humor me. I get to a mile and I'm ready to collapse. My heart rate is about 160 at that point. My lungs can't get enough oxygen, so I walk for about two minutes. Then I can usually run for about six minutes more. That would be a total of 1.5 miles. And I can't get past this. Even by a minute. I'm trying to adjust my food to better support a workout. It's not enough. It's frustrating. Last night, after two minutes of walking I wasn't ready. Another minute of walking, then I'll run for six more, or so I thought. Nope. I made it three more before it felt like my legs were going to collapse.  I'm sticking with it, and hoping to see an increase in time. If I'm nothing else, I'm determined and stubborn. I'd like to increase past one mile by just a minute. I can work from there. But this long with a stalemate is torture.

For now, I wait to hear from my Dating Coordinator and keep on running. Again.

Feeling like

I hate the days I feel like a needy chick. It makes me want to do something drastic and irrational. Like text someone in a snarky, sarcastic- almost bitchy- way. I don't because it would perpetuate the 'needy chick' stereotype. And because, contrary to popular belief, I try not to burn bridges.

Needless to say, things aren't progressing as I had hoped with the guy from Hershey. I called him on Thursday. We chatted for half an hour. I thought it was a great conversation. He said he'd call me at the end of the weekend or the beginning of the week. By Tuesday night, no call. I really thought he'd call. Now I doubt myself that I misread our conversation, misconstrued what he said when we met, misinterpreted... everything. And it's left me miserable.

I guess what I am reluctant to admit is that I am indeed a needy chick. These feelings of self-doubt and worthlessness would subside with one phone call. Actually, a voicemail message would do it to. Even a text message. I've had such a busy week that I barely have time to set up a date. But I'd like an offer. The idea of a future date would keep me going for a long time. It's kept me going for years now, hasn't it?

So it went like this....

Last night, I called the guy from Hershey. Around 8:50, I thought I should call now. Then I played a little Candy Crush. Then I got nervous. Then I got more nervous. It was 9:30, I was out of lives on Candy Crush and my palms were clammy. I just dialed to get it over with. Maybe I would get to leave a message and be off the hook. The little voices of doubt were chanting in my head. maybe he was being nice and didn't want to talk to me.

He answered. He shouted a hello and sounded excited. (Hush, you evil voices of doubt.) He was on his way to Columbus for a friend's birthday. They planned a spa day (for guys- i love that). And he's driving back to PA tonight for his son's birthday party tomorrow. We talked for half an hour. Well, it felt like I talked for half an hour. He asks a lot of questions and had me talking about work (including child abuse and mental illness?) and Pampered Chef, as well as the usual 'what did you do this week'. We talked a bit about what we each had planned for the weekend. He said he'd call later in the weekend or early next week.

The one part of his day that he shared had me raise an eyebrow. He told me about two separate people who asked him for money. One was a cousin he hadn't been in touch with for 7 or 8 years. He hadn't called him back yet and wasn't sure why he would be asking for $3000. The other was a women he met on Match.com. They had stayed in touch and I guess they were on friendly terms. She asked him for $500. And he gave it to her. His defense was that she said she'd return it by the weekend. How weird is that? I was so stunned that I missed my opportunity to say, "well, now that you mention it, I was calling to ask for money". I would hedge my bet on never seeing that money again.

We also talked about cookware. Yes, pots and pans. Apparently, he lost custody of any cookware when he split from his ex. He has one skillet. He has used it for eggs, oatmeal and spaghetti. Boiling spaghetti in a skillet almost makes my brain hurt. Obviously, he eats out a lot. If nothing else, I might just get a good Pampered Chef sale out of this.

Dela...what are you thinking?

On Halloween, Delaware sent me a text. Well, it was technically November 1st since it was 1 am. Who does that, other than drunk college kids? Since then, we've had this odd exchange of text messages. Imagine a conversation stretched out over a period of time. Imagine three weeks. He asks a question. I respond. I ask a question. Wait a week. He responds. Repeat. Why would he do this? Men are usually superficial- what you see is what you get. No deeper levels, no complex reasoning. I'm not knocking them, I'm being honest. I brought up getting together again. He brought up the weather. While it took mild convincing, I get it. Not interested.

So why bother texting me? I'm sure he's not lonely and looking for a friend. The state had a slogan years ago, "You've Got a Friend in Pennsylvania". I doubt he's testing that theory. There's no precedent of booty to think it's a booty call.

So he's messing with me. He didn't seem like the type to play mind games. Now that I think about it, there's probably not a 'type' for that. I'm just surprised because he seemed normal and not manipulative. I'm almost irritated to the point to telling him to f- off. My irrational belief of karma is leading me to take the high road. However the part of my temperament controls my inner GPS might re-calculate the route.

A Refreshing Change

When was the last time I met someone and I wasn't crying, "woe is me?", lamenting over the distance or feeling meh? I know, I can hardly believe it either!

After the initial 'finding the right person', it was good. The kind of good that still elicits a grin two days later. Starbucks is a busy place on Sundays. I got a drink and grabbed a seat. Not many open tables, and my initial survey of the room for singles was iffy. A couple guys on laptops, one guy in sweats with greasy hair, and an old dude. Please, oh please, don't let it be the guy in sweats. Then I spied someone sitting at an outside table, looking around, glancing back into the store. He finally braved the threshold and walked up to where I was sitting. He went to order and drink and asked if I wanted anything else. Nice gesture-bonus point. I'll be honest. It took what seemed like an eternity. At one point, I was convinced that he took off through the kitchen and hightailed it out of there. Luckily, I was wrong.

It seems every date starts with the question of who drove how far. He's from Hershey or Hummelstown. He said both so I guess they are close together. He travels for work and said he is in Reading 2-3 times a week. Sounds good to me. Then he asked me about my past relationships. Bam- we are not wasting any time. I tried not to let my jaw hit the table. I didn't do a very good job. There wasn't any sugar coating the entire hour. It was the most honest first date I've ever experienced. And I've had a lot of first dates. The questions, asked and answered, cut through all the political correctness, all the fluff,  and all the - for lack of a better word, bullshit. And it was refreshing. I didn't have to wonder, fill in the blanks. The cards were on the table. He asked pointed, relevant questions. He answered the same.

We had an hour. The date change was due to a swimming lesson for his 6 year old. I admire that he didn't blow off swimming to meet a girl. I had no idea of how quickly time elapsing, and based on his reaction when he checked his watch, neither did he. I think I saw the "I should have left 10 minutes ago" face. But he said he wanted my phone number. He said he thought we should talk again in the next few days. It's burned into my memory. Then he gave me a hug. Not just a pat you on the back, dashing off, barely making contact kind of hug. The kind that lingers a bit, involves an embrace and makes your mind wander for the rest of the day. Then he jogged to his car. And I drove home with a goofy grin on my face.

Everything was on the table. He is from Ohio- go Buckeyes. Moved to PA two years ago for work- marketing consultant. Google is my friend as I was able to review the name of who he worked for again. I should probably check out LinkedIn- might find out more. He might want to move back to Ohio at some point, years from now. He's competitive and a little sad that his son isn't. Athletic, likes beach vacations, scuba, and is looking for chemistry- something lacking in his previous marriage. He talked about finding balance between working from his home office and play time. He's attractive and has a charisma that is subtle. And I can't wait to find out more.

It Doesn't Take Much

Resiliency is a funny thing. Just when you least expect it, it's there. I have a date on Sunday. By now, even I wonder why I feel so full of hope. Each time, I think this might be the date. This date might be the last first date. I guess I should be thankful I forget the discomfort of being stood up, and worse, being rejected. Each date is like a surprise- I know his name, age, brown hair, brown eyes. It's exciting wondering what he looks like, what his voice sounds like, finding out what he likes to do. Where does he live? What does it mean to be a consultant? Is he a football fan? Does he like socializing with friends? Is he a movie buff? I can't wait to find out.

I want to tell my Dating Coordinator that setting up a brunch on a Sunday is great, as long as the restaurant has a brunch menu. Lunch at 11 on a Sunday is weird. Even weirder when the restaurant is Italian. I'll also have to weigh in at my Weight Watchers meeting in my date outfit. I debated going to my meeting, then going home, changing and getting right back in the car to drive almost right past the meeting location. That seems excessive. I just hope that my outfit for my date, which has been pre-approved complete with loaned jewelry, isn't heavy. Even though I ran a mile last night, I need all the help I can get at the scales.

UPDATE: I found out the time and location was adjusted. We're now meeting at 10:30 at a Starbucks. Not even a very nice Starbucks. Dating Coordinator doesn't know Reading. I could totally do this better- well, not the dating part but the coordinating part. We all know, it won't make a different really where we meet. However, I'm not sure how I will know who he is. I know brown hair, brown eyes. That is very helpful. Maybe I should wear a name tag and let him find me. And we had to switch thing because he has something to get to in the afternoon where he lives. Which is HARRISBURG. We're moving in a different direction, but not any closer. We're still at an hour away.

Vacation

Junk emails are making me a little sad today. Specifically, the one I got from Carnival describing deals for fabulous cruises leaving from New York and Baltimore. I can only imagine they are fabulous as any cruise I have been on has been amazing. An entire week of a team of people at your beck and call- what more could anyone want?

My cruising experience has totalled four. My first cruise was a group of ten people I didn't really know all that well at the start. We had more fun than you would think could fit into a week. All cruises will compare that that vacation. We did the shows, games, art auctions, the free happy hours, excursions, meals and piano bars together. I have a scrapbook that documents everything.

The following year, the thought of not going on vacation was too much to bear, so I booked a cruise by myself. I knew no one. It was relaxing and restful and a little bit boring. I made a lot of small talk with who ever was around. I'm not a huge fan of small talk, but I did it anyway. I went snorkeling alone. I walked around San Juan alone. I read lots of books, lounged by the on deck pool, and went to the shows. Alone. One meal when my dippy Canadian table mates didn't show up, I ate alone. I enjoyed it but in a bittersweet too-much-time-alone way.

Then I won a cruise to Bermuda. A free cruise from Stampin' Up! at the end of April and during PSSA testing (which is an exhausting three days of tedious testing) was heaven. The weather wasn't as hot as we had hoped, but hell- it was a free cruise. My friend Anne and I had an incredible time and spent most evenings with our new friends from dinner. Some nights, we laughed so hard that we drew a crowd. Like I said, heaven. Bermuda itself was just ok, I wouldn't race back but did we have fun!

My last cruise was with my sister and brother-in-law. We get along well and worked out how to balance what everyone wanted. It was fun, but a controlled fun dictated by the rigid needs of my brother-in-law. We couldn't sit by the pool because that was too many people crowded together. We didn't eat in the main dining room because they didn't want to have to sit with people they didn't know. The restaurants were good food too and I ate my share, don't get me wrong. But I felt like we were avoiding everyone else on the ship.

The offers from Carnival always make me wistful, but not just to go on a cruise. Cruising this summer would be nice, but I want to go on a vacation with someone. This is a common theme for me. I long for a companion. I want to plan a vacation, dream about excursions, share memories with someone. It's like the tree falling in the woods scenario. If you take a vacation by yourself, does it really count if you're the only one who remembers it.

Now He's Just Messing With Me

My usual Halloween includes giving non-peanut treats to my favorite twins (I was prepared this year, not scrounging in my pantry for something without nuts that kids would enjoy like last year) and then going to the gym. This year was no exception. I tried to stay at home with a bucket of candy on the porch for self-serve but the little buggers didn't get it. They kept ringing the bell and driving the dogs, and their owner, mad. I gave up. 

I had skipped enough time at the gym that my 20 minute run was interrupted with much needed walking for a minute or two. While working to regain that steady jog, I watched Silence of the Lambs. I had to endure 40 minutes (my entire workout time) watching something I vowed never to watch. I choose to avoid movies that might give me nightmares. Lucky for me, my gym decided that October would be scary movie month. Joy. I might have to be snarky and ask if in December if we'll be watching happy holiday favorites like It's A Wonderful Life, Miracle on 34th Street, or my personal fav- Emmet Otter's Jug Band Christmas. Doubtful, I know.

This morning, I see I received a text at 12:57 am from Delaware. Actually, when I looked at my phone, I thought, "Delaware who?" (Remember, I'm not using his name here but in my phone, it is his first name.) "hey, Georgeann, did you go to any Halloween parties?" He's messing with me. I experience anger, rejection, self-doubt and hope in about 3.2 seconds. I'm not good at games. I'm good at being pragmatic. I text back. "No parties for me, but I guess you did since you are texting at 1 am". I also resist the urge to correct him on the spelling of my name. What can I say, I'm growing. Now I wait. Let the games begin.