Wednesday, April 19, 2017

Fox and Hound

So my date with Spanish Andy (SA) was last night and it went really well. We both arrived early and ended up talking for about three hours. I learned more about him as I prompted him a couple of times (he is great on the phone and on text message but extremely quiet in person if you can't engage him on a topic that interests him). I learned more about his work, which I knew nothing about, and we did hit on the unfun topics of what happened before and why I broke off with him and why I was ready now. In the end we both agreed we are looking forward to seeing where this goes but he is, obviously, a bit gun-shy because of what happened before. I'd have less respect for him if he wasn't a bit wary to be honest.

It's funny because I had a really great time and smiled the entire way home but I don't really know what to say about it now. I guess just that I'm hoping this goes somewhere and that we want the same things and we can progress a bit. It's nice that it wasn't a first date so it wasn't as nerve racking as it might have been but I definitely was still nervous. Fortunately, I was also exhausted because I barely slept the night before so I didn't have energy to be as nervous as I might have. Right now the ball is in his court (I am not saying that phrase again for a very long time because I've used it like five times since last night) with regards to the next day so fingers crossed. 

Monday, April 17, 2017

Spanish Andy Rides Again

Maybe? A couple of my friends came over for a cheese plate party yesterday (whatever, they were coming over so I made a badass cheese plate and we drank wine with it). They were mainly there because they felt I needed support since I just broke up with the bat and I really appreciated it. Last week, I'd texted both my friend A (I don't know if I've given her a nickname yet so she's A for now) and King Kong asking if, a month from now, I could reach out to Spanish Andy. He's this really great guy that I dated briefly before taking the bat back this last time. They both agreed I could and I planned on just texting him to apologize for not giving him a chance and hoping he was well.

Remember how I said there was wine? A can't drink due to medication so our friend Pants and I drank two bottles by ourselves. Yeah, we did that. Some how the topic of Spanish Andy came up and A was all "a month?! I thought you were going to reach out to him sooner than that!" That's when I unlocked my phone and handed it to her. My phone totally needs a breathalyzer. For real. Because A sent Spanish Andy a text saying "this is Cat. First, I wanted to apologize for ending things so abruptly. Unfortunately I just had a lot going on at that time. I would love to buy you a drink and catch up soon."

And homie got back to me like 12 minutes later. So we have plans to meet up at a bar tomorrow night, a place we went to back when we were dating. A and Pants took me to my closet so they could help me pick out a date outfit and so that's settled. Then A had to split and so it was just me and Pants, who decided I should call him. And I did. We talked for about 30 minutes and he was extremely nice (and he has a great voice, something I had forgotten about) and it was just fun (although I also wanted to throw up from nerves the entire time) and I think I said stuff about "if you'd still like to get to know me".

I have no idea if he is seeing anyone. I have no idea if he thinks tomorrow is a date or if it is just catching up over a drink. But why would a guy agree to go have a drink with a girl if he isn't interested? I mean, we went out on four dates something like seven months ago and it isn't like we knew each other at all before we met on a dating site. So this is totally a date right? Everyone is in agreement that it is but one of my friends thinks I should have asked if he was seeing anyone.

So now I get to feel incredibly antsy and anxious until tomorrow when I will totally want to bail but I cannot do that to this guy. Ugh. Dating (if this is dating) is the fucking worst. 

Thursday, April 13, 2017

April's Fool

This month has not been very awesome for me thus far and we are only about half-way through. On the first day, the bat and I dropped a drill press on my right forearm, causing me tremendous pain and requiring paid time off at random times and a wrist brace. Then I broke up with my long term bat (events were not related), which was very obviously not awesome. And now? Now I have to put one of my guinea pigs down because she has a giant eyeball just like Johann did when he had an abscess. I cannot afford to have her eye removed so down she will have to go. I didn't bond with her or her cage mate so I'm not crying as I type or anything but I do feel bad for the cage mate and for Bubbles.

Bubbles doesn't give a shit though so I should stop with the feels. Seriously, Bubbles probably gives zero fucks about anything that I attribute to her and is probably over grooming simply because she likes seeing her neurotic owner wring her hands and worry about dumb shit. All she wants is for me to feed her (all the time) and pet her when she wants. Jesus, this morning when I was trying to put her bowl down she got in my way and knocked the bowl out of my hands so it landed face down. I actually yelled at her and told her to go ahead and eat and I wasn't going to clean it up. She didn't give a fuck, she was too busy eating the food off the floor. I really should not own pets.

While this month hasn't been very kind to be thus far I still maintain my bizarre optimism. I tell my friends that May is probably going to be amazing or else April my own, personal, emotional March. In it came like a lion but out it shall go like a lamb. Basically, I'll probably win the lottery on the 15th, meet my soul mate sometime next week, gain Wolverine-like regenerative powers, and find someone who is desperate for an affectionate cat (who comes with her very own guinea pig!)

Speaking of what I tell my friends, I finally told one of my very best ones about my breakup. I actually didn't tell anyone until Monday night. I don't want it to be real (because who does?) and I'm embarrassed due to the whole on again off again nature of my relationship with the bat. I know at least two of my friends weren't happy that I got back together with him this last time so there was a certain amount of dog with tail between legs feeling to it. It doesn't help matters that I still have stupid girl brain fantasies of the bat coming to me and telling me all the magic words necessary to make that relationship work. Because even though I know this is for the best, girl brain cannot be controlled.

Anywho, I have seven hours left of my work day and then I get to go home for a three-day weekend. I plan on drinking too much, sleeping in as late as possible, holding a very exclusive pity party, and then cleaning the hell out of my apartment. Happy Easter! 

Wednesday, April 12, 2017

Third Time's the Charm Except When It Isn't

The bat and I broke up. Again. We lasted almost seven months this time for a total of three and a half years together off and on. Why did we break up? Because when I've asked him about living together in the future, he hasn't been able to say anything along the lines of "yes, once I sell the house and get Monkey settled into the next chapter of her life, I figure we can start looking for a new place." After three and a half years, he doesn't want to plan for a future together and he doesn't want to live with me.

It isn't the worst thing in the world, the hesitancy to cohabitate. The issue is the very real sense I get that I'm just a stop gap girl for him. Once Monkey goes off to college, the bat will be able to live his life in a different way, no longer worrying and looking after his child all the time. Don't get me wrong, Monkey will still be his number one priority, he'll just have far less responsibility and she far more autonomy. He'll get to start traveling and doing all the things he's put on hold in order to raise her. And that is fantastic and I'm happy for him. But it's been clear to me for some time now that I'm not part of this next stage. He told me once that he was in this for the long haul, for as long as I'd have him but he can't answer "yes" when asked "do you want to live with me?"

I'm too old for this type of relationship. I'm not a casual dater and at thirty six I do not want to be with a man that I see three days a week. I don't want to have a relationship commute for pity's sake. The bat lives nine miles from me, which isn't a great amount of distance but I already drive twenty three miles one way just to get to work. At the end of a stressful day, I would like to come home to someone who loves me and who is genuinely happy to see me (I think I stole that line from How to Get Away With Murder). I certainly don't want to continue living in my hood-ass apartment complex with Weed Matt leering at me and my stingy-on-the-hot-water shower.

The bat is a great guy. He's charming and affectionate and he makes me laugh. I enjoy being with him physically, just sitting on the sofa watching movies. He has a lot of great qualities and he isn't a bad guy because he doesn't want to build a life with me. But I can't continue to be with him, feeling like a stop gap girl, when there is a chance that there is a man who wants to build life with me is waiting. Love and happiness do not march up to your door and announce themselves. Mr. Right isn't going to pull the bat aside when we are having drinks at Kyoto and tell him "sorry to break this to you, but I'm supposed to be with her, not you." So I'm freeing myself up to hopefully find this person. And the bat is free to find someone who wants way less than I.

It was a fairly abrupt ending and I've deleted his number and he's unfriended me on Facebook (I feel ridiculous typing that but it is a real thing and it feels strange). We haven't spoken since he stopped by after work to pick up his belongings. Well, we messaged a bit this morning because I left something at his house and he accidentally gave me some of the Monkey's things when he brought bits and pieces I'd left at his house. But that isn't exactly talking, especially as it as just practical. We are done. I am sad and will continue to be so for some time but eventually things will improve and I'll be happy again. Last night my friend agreed to go to Happy Hour with me because Tuesdays were the days the bat spent at my place. Two other friends ended up joining us and I had a great time and it was the perfect distraction. I have really good people in my life who will help me get through this.

But for right now, I'm sad and I'm having to remind myself over and over again that he was never going to be "the guy" and that I deserve "the guy".  Hopefully I'll stop thinking about it altogether relatively soon.

Till then, I'm sad. And that's OK. 

Sunday, October 9, 2016

Stupid Shit That You Come Across As An Adult

Remember being a kid and thinking all those thoughts about what life would be like as an adult? Look, I was the last little shit to be in a hurry to grow up because I had zero interest in bills and being responsible for myself. But we all dreamed of having pizza for dinner every night and staying up late and watching the shows that were "for adults."

Then we got to do that shit and you know you did it. You totally ate pizza so much that you got sick of it and you probably still buy candy whenever the fuck you want because mom and dad aren't in charge of your teeth anymore. And we all stay up far too late to feel good in the morning when we have to deal with the realities that come along with adulthood.

But we've lived the dream, haven't we? Fuck yeah Imma eat this fruit roll-up without having had a sensible meal before hand. In fact, I'm probably gonna eat like three fruit roll-ups after a bag of goldfish crackers and a couple of string cheeses that are serving as my dinner for the night. Because I'm an ADULT mother fucker. I can do this shit now.

What you don't dream about is stupid shit. And I don't mean bills and car registration and health insurance. I mean the really, really stupid shit. Like how you can't count on your mom to answer all of your questions all the time or, for that matter, another adult. I asked my boyfriend (yes, the Bat because we are still doing this thing) the other day what "scratch restaurant" meant. As in "Chedder's Scratch Restaurant." He said "made from scratch?" Oh my god dude, do you know or are you guessing? Because if I'd asked my mom, she would totally have known exactly what it meant because she is a GROWN UP and GROWN UPS know everything. I fucking think it means "made from scratch" but I'm looking for a reliably trusty resource to confirm this, not some weak ass "uhm maybe" answer.

Think about it, how many stupid ass questions did you ask your parents growing up? "I wonder why you only see old time cars in the summer", "why are there so any funeral parlors here?", "what does that billboard mean?" Even if your mom or dad didn't actually know the answer, you know damn well they probably gave you one with confidence. For the record, my mother always told me what she thought the billboards meant, told me that a lot of funeral parlors meant it was an old established city (I asked her this as a 28 year old when I lived in Columbus, by the way) and explained that insurance is hella high on these old timey cars so you are going to drive in the summer rather than the winter when they are more likely to get all fucked up (this was asked when I was an actual kid and lived in Delaware where ice and snow and salt and shit were a real thing, not this fake ass weather they have in Texas.)

But it gets dumber. I legit texted my mother telling her I was getting rid of a hand-mixer I'd grown up with today. Why is this news? Well, because I grew up with this fucking thing and my mom gave it to me when I moved out of the house. Look, we aren't rich people with a bunch of fucking heirlooms OK? I don't know where this 1970's looking hand-mixer came from, just that it as ALWAYS in my life as a kid and, for all I knew, it was her first big girl purchase. For all I knew, my mom had all these fond memories of it both from her using it and her teaching me how to bake and how to mix this or whip that.

Nope. Mom didn't know what the fuck I was talking about until I sent her a picture and even then, I'm pretty sure she had to eyeball it real good to see what the fuck I was talking about. But I had to check because what if it mattered to her? Look, this is a woman who put three ugly ass "pinch pots" in her curio cabinets alongside her Lladro statues because her babies' artwork was precious. Seriously, I legit grew up in Delaware with a laundry room that was essentially an art gallery of shitty little kid paintings and drawings that my brothers and I did. Parents save this shit because a) it is meaningful to them and b) everything we do as children is AMAZING. Nobody ever pinched a pot and painted it in those colors like I did. And nobody put together that 3D extravaganza like Eldest Brother. We were god damn geniuses and my mother had to preserve that shit.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that when you have a parent who was a really GOOD parent, they make you feel like every little thing you did is totes amazing. Because of that, every stupid thing you touched as a kid has history and meaning if only to you. Considering that my mom still has our stupid pinch pots to this day, the fact that I ran it by her before throwing out her hand mixer is not beyond the pale.

Thursday, May 5, 2016

Silly Sad Girl

I broke up with the Bat on Sunday. He plans to move out of the country next year, after his daughter graduates. I can't go with him for numerous reasons (mostly centered around my debt) so he is actively planning on leaving me. I've known for longer than I care to admit and I should have ended things then. Maybe it would have been a bit easier. I did it now because I know it would hurt even worse if I invested another year in this relationship. And what kind of year would that be, knowing that it was temporary?

I made a foolish decision when he and I got back together and then another foolish decision when I decided to gamble and open myself up to loving someone. I knew better than to do that. Now I'm heartbroken and I spend my day trying to get through work so that I can go home and be sad. Then I go home and spend my evening doing just that, being terribly sad and ugly crying. This breakup has turned me into a 17 year old girl. I got rid of my Facebook account, partly because I've wanted to for awhile now and partly because I didn't want to constantly check his page (who does that at 35?!?!?!) I also got rid of Facebook Messenger because it was becoming an unhealthy distraction. I used it for the sole purpose of seeing if he was online or when he was last online. For no other reason than I wanted to know.

I miss him but can't tell him because I'm not allowed to. Just as I'm not allowed to be upset when he moves on and lives happily ever after with someone else. I'd say I don't even get to miss him but I'm realistic and I can't control that. I miss him and love him and I hope that he does get to move overseas and be happy because he's put his life on hold to raise his kid. After 18+ years he'll be free, finally, to focus on his own life. Of course he'll still be Monkey's father and he'll always be there for her, but she'll be more independent and he'll just have more freedom.

And he deserves it. I want him to be happy. I just wish it could be with me. But since I can't have that I'll instead settle for getting through this quickly because I'm doing pretty shitty on a daily basis right now. If nothing else, I need to kill the hope that insists on remaining inside because that is what hurts the worst and makes me feel the most ridiculous.

Sunday, February 21, 2016

Cars, Keys, & Cheese

Is your monthly car payment nearly half your rent? Do you enjoy parking wherever the fuck you want whenever the fuck you want? If you answered 'yes' to either of these questions, you are an asshole and probably live in my neighborhood.

I've mentioned before that I live in the 'hood (because it's hilarious) and one of the funnier things about this life is the ridiculousness of cars. People legit drive Jaguars and BMWs and all sorts of "luxury automobiles" and live in these poor people apartment complexes. What's more, they drive down the shitty roads with the potholes and concrete teeth sticking up everywhere. And they will ride your ass as you go 30 mph like they are prairie doggin' it hard. Good for you, hood rich. I hope you get a flat.

Other jerks like to park on the side of the main road or next to a bunch of parked cars as it suits them. I usually assume the car is broken down if it is along the main road but in the parking lot I stink eye them. You can't be bothered to pull into a spot while you run your quick errand? Seriously? You have to block people in so that you can go about your business because you are so damn important? I hope someone gets angry one day and backs into your dumbass as you are inside doing whatever is so necessary that you couldn't park like a decent human being.

My 'normal' keys are at that farm. I am in my apartment. I know, right? That is stupid. I was wearing this pink, pleather jacket with pockets when we went down and I put my keys in one of these to keep them safe. But then, whilst the Bat's mother and I were at Tractor Supply and Walmart, the Bat bought a little car to suit the interim before Monkey's insurance covers her totaled truck. He and his father got back to the farm before the moms and I and the Bat assured me he moved all our crap from the old car (his dad's as it happens) to the new one. Why I didn't check I will never know but when we got to his house, I couldn't find my keys and was looking everywhere when it came to me and I asked him about the pink jacket. He didn't know it was mine, he said. He'd been driving his dad's car for ages so why would his mother have this little jacket in the back, on top of other stuff no less? And I was wearing it on Friday!!! How did he not know it was mine? Fortunately, I have a spare apartment and car key and this does give me another excuse to not get my mail but he always makes fun of me for not being observant and now I have to open my car door with a key like a damn peasant. Harumph.

Honestly, I came up with the title for this blog post when the Bat was driving me to my place to grab my spare key and I noticed, again, all the asshole drivers in my area. But then I went to the store where I did, indeed, get some cheese and I do have a story so it fits.

So, because I'm a great big grown up who does things in good time rather than put them off and feel like an idiot come Monday, I went to the grocery store. I felt all gross and sweaty and dirty, which was awesome and a bonus to the task of grocery shopping on a Sunday. Even better, when I was ready to checkout and got to the self checkout kiosk thing that I like to use, the person waiting next to me was one of those who likes to be all up on you. Why do people do that? It's like they have zero sense of personal space and so you feel like you are an unwilling butt-buddy or something. And then I kept needing assistance but the cashier wasn't anywhere to be found and this lady, who only had one thing, refused to try another line and just sat on my ass the entire fucking time.

When I was done, I looked at her, ready to stink eye or say something but the bitch smiled at me and so I was thwarted.

Sigh, what a ridiculous day.