Curious Cases

So the new boy and I had some excellent plans for New Year’s–sit by the fire, drink champagne and chow on shrimp cocktail. I was completely content with this option and pleased that he didn’t seem to have any interest in painting the town red. He had to work New Year’s Eve, so I felt obliged to do what I thought to be was most of the leg work–buying the champagne and such.

As I stood in the aisle at the jam packed liquor store, I was starting to feel slightly annoyed. Our festivities were at HIS digs, so why was I starting to feel like I was throwing the “party”? Was I yet again going to end up with another guy who lets me to do ALL the work and was I yet again going to be the primary romance maker???? And boy, all that thinking was starting to p— me off a little!

I called him from the liquor store to ask if he had champagne glasses. I was considering buying two, even if he already had some. I wasn’t keen on sharing the libation with him out of glasses he likely used with his ex-wife. His reply to my call was yet another reassurance. All was well, he had bought some on the drive home from work. I stifled my annoyance and reminded myself that this guy was and is so different from all the rest, and that I just needed to start truly trusting in that.

I trucked all of the party stuff into my car and drove out to his house. As I pulled into the driveway and started unpacking the bags of goodies, annoyance crept in again, “Where WAS he and why wasn’t he helping me with the bags?” I lugged the bags through the snow and up to his front door. I could see his shadow waiting for me at the door as he hid behind it and opened it. What that door opened to was possibly one of the most romantic sights I’ve ever witnessed–the fireplace was blazing, as were nearly two dozen votive candles in delicate glass candle holders…for me.

For ME?

Yeah. For me.

Dumby me was so taken aback, I curtly said something stupid like, “oh wow.” The truth was, if I had said more or even looked at him instead of petting his dog, I would have probably broken down into a bumbling mess of grateful tears.

Before this experience, I didn’t wholeheartedly believe in fate or serendipity . I believed that life certainly had more than a few strange and miraculous unexplainable occurrences…Yet I still found myself thinking that everything and everyone we come in contact with was pretty random…and pure chance. This past year has given me ample evidence to believe in the unbelievable–that maybe, just maybe every random act we take part in can lead us to where we’re “meant to be.” I won’t go into detail, since some things aren’t necessary for others to know or hear, but I will say there are more than a few serendipitous things about Mr. Dreamy that are positively unexplainable… unless you believe in fate.

Probability or serendipity aside, I’m so grateful that I’ve found someone who’s loving me back with an equal fire. Adoration reciprocated tastes so much sweeter than the roller coaster and half-a–ed lovin’ that I willingly accepted in the past.

I realize that the blissful infatuation stage isn’t going to last forever and that somewhere along the line we’re bound to find a few challenges. But man, this euphoria sure is a nice place to start.

On a side note, we saw The Curious Case of Benjamin Button last night. The flick was slow moving (and THREE hours long), but had me in tears during the last few scenes. Here’s a memorable quote:

“For what it’s worth, it’s never too late, or in my case too early, to be whoever you want to be. There’s no time limit… start whenever you want… you can change or stay the same. There are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. I hope you see things that stop you. I hope you feel things that you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life that you’re proud of and if you find that you’re not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again.”

The bottom line for me: you just don’t KNOW what life has in store for you. And when you think you’ve finally reached the end of your rope, there’s always, always a lifeline; always something unpredictable that can and will change everything.

Here’s to
all the poor choices,
all the triumphs,
all the heart ache,
all the unrequited crushes,
all the bad dates,
all the unreturned calls,
all the rally cries,
all the bottles of Shiraz,
all the efforts to being okay alone,
and all the courage mustered for an unpredictable chance.

He

Hmmmm, what a curious feeling this love thing is.  I mean, I figured it was bound to happen eventually.  No vanity intended, but my karmic dues had long been paid in full for a while.  I think this whiny journal/blog has adequate evidence of that.  But man it’s a little odd being someone’s Someone…Someone I actually ENJOY being around?  What a revolutionary concept!  Maybe I should have tried that idea out years ago–date men I actually LIKE!?  It sure makes life a little less complicated.  The simplicity is refreshing.

It is, however,  a little distracting having someone pop into your thoughts every other hour.  If that’s the only thing I can possibly complain about, I would have to say I’m in a good place….with a good person, who just happens to make me feel like I’m 15.

This whole slightly crazy, yet oh-so-clearly sensible experience has brought my mind back to an old first love.  One winter, in his cold dining room he turned on this song and made me dance with him during a rough patch in my life.  That Freudian conquest left me a little jaded, but filled with the knowledge that, yep, a man did love me.  I would be a liar if I didn’t admit that I’ve been searching for someone to replicate the way he made me feel on occasion.  I guess I just had no idea that I would fall upon someone who surpassed him by leaps and bounds.

In other news:  I only gained 3 pounds over the holiday!  That’s a grand total of 40 pounds gone since August.  I’m just having a slightly difficult time staying focused on the whole life style thing a midst of this love stuff.  Smoking is still on the platter and I’m totally terrified of quitting.  But it’s time.  I guess it was about time for more than a few changes in my life.

Politics: Obama, Lieberman, Cindy McCain, American Pie, and Joni Mitchell

Hmmph. It seems that it’s been a while since I directly wrote about politics.

Obama
I bought Obama’s The Audacity of Hope a few weeks back. While I will admit Barack is a decent writer, I found it, overall, pretty boring. If you’re into policy, congressional history, mixed in with a little autobiography, you’ll like it. Otherwise, skip it or read the excerpts on the net.

I left the book thinking, despite his grandiose ideals (that I just happen to share), he’s not such a great husband or father. He’s got that only child, my-job-is-so-important-that-it-compromises-my-family-life vibe going. Then again, these are likely GOOD qualities for a leader of the “most powerful” country in the free world. Like any great writer, artist, or leader, I guess something has to give. In this case, we get an inspiring leader, while his kids and wife get a part-time father and husband.

I’m not buying 100% into his rhetoric, yet can’t help but appreciate the words and ways of thinking. Sadly, I kind of feel like he already sold out. The title of this book was inspired by a 1990 sermon from Jermiah Wright (a piece written in reflection of George Frederic Watts painting, “Hope”), the man he dropped like a hot potato following the now infamous Wright sermons on AIDS, 9/11, and White America.

The audacity of hope.

That was the best of the American Spirit, I thought–having the audacity to believe despite all the evidence to the contrary that we could restore a sense of community to a nation torn by conflict; the gall to believe that despite personal setbacks, the loss of a job or an illness in the family or a childhood mired in poverty, we had some control—and therefore responsibility–over our own fate.

It was this audacity, I thought, that joined us as one people. It was that pervasive spirit of hope that tied my own family’s story to the larger American story.

Lieberman
What’s the deal with his choice to speak at the Republican National Convention? Is he really this desperate for attention or is he merely “socking it to” the Dems for screwing his previous election? Either way, I tend to believe that his presence doesn’t make him look like some rebel, but more like an A-hole.

Cindy McCain
I never liked this woman. There. I said it. After this was covered on NPR the other day, I found yet another reason to strongly dislike her. Now, I know First Ladies aren’t exactly running for president, but the person you chose as your running mate in life certainly has a reflection on YOU. I never inherently hated McCain, but his wife, on the other hand, is quite a piece of work.

Just Me
I really hope the next 4 years will bring better times than the last 8. Not that I blame GW or 9/11 for all of my life’s tribulations, but this certainly hasn’t been a great time to come into adulthood.

I randomly heard “American Pie” on the radio the other night. The last time I heard that tune was the night GW was elected for the second time. I remember being on the 290 in my beat up mercury tracer station wagon and gulping back tears at the irony of the timing. I know I’ll never again be that wide-eyed 23 year old, coming to a new town with high hopes and aspirations. It’d be nice to come in from the cold.

We really thought we had a purpose
We were so anxious to achieve
We had hope
The world held promise
For a slave to liberty
Freely I slaved away for something better
And I was bought and sold
And all I ever wanted
Was to come in from the cold

old artifacts

On my quest to purge my apartment of crap I no longer need, I keep  wasting lots of time inspecting old artifacts:

1.  Very important letters from friends written during 11th grade Course III Math.

2.  My dad’s very suave butter fly collared polyester plaid long sleeved shirt, that I wore out until junior year in college when my suite mate asked, “Are you really wearing THAT?  Again?”

3.  Sting’s Ten Summoner’s Tales CD from 1994.  Okay, so <i>If I ever Lose My Faith in You</i> and “Fields of Gold” were overplayed back then.  But I’d just like to say, I effin’ loved <i>Love is Stronger Than Justice</i>, <i>Heavy Clouds(No Rain)</i>, <i>She’s Too Good For Me</i>, <i>Seven Days</i>, and even <i>Saint Augustine in Hell</i>.

Cycles

Maybe it’s just my life, but it sure seems like shittiness/goodness comes in cycles.

#1 I emailed my boss, begging to come in and volunteer my filing abilities; anything to get me back into a routine. The reply was a hook-up; a paid gig. Dummy me emailed back saying that I’d do it for free if all else fails, but it’s the truth.

I don’t know how people stay unemployed and happy for long periods of time. I was itchy two weeks into it. And I’m totally NOT an ambitious overachiever.

#2 Not to jinx anything, but I’m applying for a very cool job OUT of this armpit of Hell. IF I get it, I would be using some very, very cool expeditionary and experiential teaching methods. I’d also get to leave this pit of hell.

Hollywood Gossip

I’m not one to read up on this stuff normally, but what gives with Nicole Kidman’s weight? I’m tempted to wager that the pregnancy was a hoax, a la Desperate Housewives. I mean, who in hell wears tight hip huggers and a mid-drift baring shirt two weeks after popping another human out of your body?

When I was 24 or maybe 25…

…I stayed up late, getting wasted on cheap wine and replaying this song over and over after what would serve to be my worst break up. Ever.

I fell upon it accidentally this afternoon. I haven’t listened to it years. When you feel your sanity may be in question, it really is a good idea to review the past as a good indicator that you’ve grown just a little. I distinctly remember the last part of the song nearly killing me with gut-wrenching heartache.

What do I do now? Are we going under?
What did I do wrong?
Thought we had it sorted
Is there someone else? Am I too familiar?
Was it when I said I wanted to have children?

Tore up all your photos, didn’t feel too clever
Spent the whole of Sunday sticking you together
Now I’d like to call but I feel too awkward
Some things need explaining
No one told me it was raining (raining, raining…)

Though I still find this to be a great song and another perfect example why Elvis Costello is a phenomenal songwriter (since who else can write with such simplicity and depth all at the same time?), listening to it again today made me grateful that for that break-up. What in hell was I thinking?!?!?!

Increasing Traffic To Your Blog…

Let’s say you just started writing in your little blog. You’d like people to come and commiserate with you, but can’t figure out how to increase views without sounding desperate for attention. So here’s what you do: add Playgirl and/or Naked Men to your tags and voila! You have 40 views in one day and get your blog cross listed on a variety of porn sites! Yippeee!

Coffee Companion

I need to preface this with a few background tidbits. I’ve emailed with Mr. Coffee Companion for months on an online dating site. Initially, I wasn’t interested and really wasn’t sure what he was looking for. He mentioned working out in his profile and I try my damnedest not to date men who are in better shape than I am. We emailed consistently about every topic under the sun from dating to death. And for months (and I mean MONTHS), I was totally content with my little email buddy.

This past June I suddenly found myself emailing with several men. Everyday. And as summer quickly approached and my email relationships were starting to take up more time than my actual dating life, I decided it was time to take the bull by the horns. I emailed Mr. Coffee Companion first and basically said, as much as I love this back and forth email thing, it’s not really getting me what I’m looking for. I then typed my phone number and said, if you’d like to do something some time, give me a call.

He didn’t call, but emailed, saying that he would miss the emails. I didn’t reply and within a day, actually had a voicemail from a sexy sounding voice. I was shocked and took three days to call him back, not wanting to appear available, since we all know no man likes an available woman. We played voicemail phone tag for a few days. By the time we finally talked on the phone this Thursday, I felt like it was probably going to take another three months for this guy to ask me out. I was wrong and he suggested meeting up for coffee, since we were both going to be in the same neighborhood. I figured what the hell.

I could be totally off the mark, but I think I just had a decent first date. Not that coffee is a date, but let’s pretend it is. If it is, in fact, a date, then I would be a little pissed that my “date” didn’t pay for my $5 coffee. But coffee isn’t a date. It’s just coffee. And since it was just coffee, the lack of chivalry didn’t offend me. And in all honesty, I’ve never been a huge advocate for chivalry, since I’ve dated plenty of men who regard themselves as chivalrous, then turn out to be complete a-holes.

After sitting on a Starbucks patio for nearly two hours, I mentioned that I really needed to get something to eat. We had met up after he worked a 10 hour shift and I had a night class. He wasn’t hungry (I’m going to go ahead and assume that he’s either not interested and/or cheap, since I can’t really think of any other reason not to eat something after sitting for two hours…).

He created another half hour of chitchat, which kind of confused me, causing me to think, “Okay? No dinner, but you still want to sit here talking?” Eventually, he awkwardly walked me back to my car. Prior to my December dating debacle, where I took the lead, I would have easily given someone a hug as a greeting and/or parting gift. This time I decided no go. If someone’s interested, they’re going to have to put it out there loud and clear.

He stood there, shifting his weight from left foot to right and mumbling something about his weekend. Between his mumbling and my 20% hearing loss from blasting my headphones through 4 years of high school, I really have no idea how the date ended. For all I know he asked me to marry him at Italian Fest this weekend.

Now, the good part:

• He’s tall (I’m tall and always seem to end up in committed relationships with short guys with Napoleon complexes),
• bald (I like no hair. It’s much better than bad hair),
• nice smile,
• sexy ass,
• nice cute little lips that’s caused me to stop a few times and ponder his kissing (and other) skills. This thought process, in my idiosyncratic mind, lead me to confirming that our offspring would have a 100% chance of having a big nose, which would kind of suck for the kids. The compensation would likely come in the brains department, since he appeared to be intelligent and on occasion, I have access to a few brain cells),
• seemed humored by my goofy comments and was quick to offer his own (and blushed every time I laughed at his jokes…God, I love shy men),
• likes not being a workaholic, citing that “quality of life is more important than money” (Bing, Bing, Bing! Good Answer, Mr. Coffee Companion.),
• and at one point, when discussing the dentist, Mr. Coffee Companion complimented my smile.

I really don’t care if he calls for another date (of course I care, but let’s pretend I don’t, since rejection of any kind generally sucks), but am eternally grateful that I now have enough fodder for a few nights of sex dreams.

This one’s for you, Mr. Coffee Companion. I hope you ask me out again. If not, I’ll see you in my Karma Sutra fantasies.