me

I realize we all have issues with our parents, and that mine aren’t all that different from the next person’s.  Talking about my relationship with my mother always feels like betrayal.  I don’t know if it’s because we are similar, or because she’s genuinely not nice to me.  Or because I’m oversensitive.  But relating to my mother has never been something that I’ve done well.

I’ve spent plenty of time resenting her and the things she does.  Yet I love her and I know that she is a great mom.

I’ve lived thousands of miles away from the place I grew up in for nine years now.  It was July, 2001.  I know this because a) I still have the receipt for the one-way plane tickets, and b) September 11, 2001 was a marker of sorts for many of us.  It’s not easy to forget that day and the things that led up to it.

Since leaving I haven’t gone more than one, maybe two weeks at the most, without talking to my mother on the phone.  And I hate the phone.  (maybe this is why?)

My mom, she drives me insane.  She makes comments, passive-aggressive comments.  She takes jabs at you when you least expect.  She constantly needs to have the upper hand.  She knows more than you, and if she doesn’t, it’s only because she doesn’t care.  She will not hesitate to use something you say today against you tomorrow.  She keeps score.

When I talk about how I don’t want to be her and when I mention that I did something, something that was totally my mom, I’m conflicted because I love her.  Outsiders love her.  She did a good job raising us.  She managed to find joy in her relationship with my father and has been married to him since 1974.  Apparently she knows more about sustaining and thriving in a relationship than I do.  And sure, not all relationships are meant to last for a long time, and maybe she isn’t as happy as she lets on, but really she’s kept her shit together and they make it all work somehow.

But the point I’m trying to get at is that I call her nearly daily.  I tell her about my day.  I put my son on speaker.  And I have this expectation that she wants to hear from us.

Let me try to word this so that maybe you can feel it the way I feel:

I expect that my mom wants to know what is going on in our lives.  I expect that she wants to know about the fake non-date that I went on with a boy who doesn’t appear to want to kiss me.  I believe that she wants to know about the car accident that a friend of mine recently got into.  I expect that she wonders how his recover is going.  And everytime I can tell that she isn’t listening to me, everytime she takes another call from someone she speaks to ten times a day, everytime she hangs up with me because she has to get in the car (it’s a cell phone, for fuck’s sake), every time she asks me a question that she’s already asked me, I remember that this is how it’s been for years.  I remember why I stopped giving her information when I lived back there.  I remember why I was always looking for a way out.  I remember why she’s been demoted to only the most necessary and relevant facts.  The sting of rejection is sharpest with my mother.  Sure a boy can reject you, but you can get over that.  He will go away.  Mom?  It’s difficult to get rid of her.

And I scold myself for letting it get to me.  For letting her in, believing that I should trust her with my openness.  And I close back up again.

It’s been nearly a week since I’ve called home.

1.  Walked into door at work, to find crush boy walking out.  Normally I make morning coffee.  For those of you who missed it before, even though the office provides us with free-flowing coffee all day long, we split a french press.  He tells me not to put it on.  Which means he’s going for a drive to get some.  And not only did he go out for coffee, but he went to the Good Place, which is much farther away than the sbux on the corner.

2. Half day of work, followed by office party in parking lot.  With food and booze.

3. Except I’m not big on beef, which was what was being served.  So we went out.  And drove past the entire office (remember, parking lot party) to park the vehicle upon return.  Rumors, for sure.

4. We socialized.  And drank.  I hit the glenfiddich.  and some other stuff.

5. Got a text from a friend I haven’t heard from in awhile.  This made me hugely happy.

6. Drank some more.

7. Left party quickly.  Together.  (no one noticed, right?)

8. Hung out at his place.  A couple more drinks.  I washed his dishes.  He fed me.  Leftovers from last night, when he went out for dinner and called to invite me, but I was busy.  But seriously he fed me.  Sure it wasn’t like he cooked – all he did was heat up leftovers, but this girl has not been served a meal by a man since the day my marriage ended.  And he fed me.  And I thanked him for that.

9. I had to be somewhere so he took me back to my car.  At the office.  Party had moved inside to the boardroom.  One of the girls saw us come back.  I had to change my clothes for the thing I was supposed to be at.  By the time I went back inside, changed clothes, and drove my car out, that same girl was back outside smoking again.  This time with a couple other girls.  One of the newly outside girls attacked me “HEY WHERE DID YOU GO?!?”  So yeah, no one really noticed.  Except the girl who saw us come back, she’s now got all kinds of gossip brewing in her head, I’m sure.  She was quite nice and giggled and said nothing.

10. There’s no 10.  There doesn’t need to be a 10.  That was enough.  And wonderful.

I put an intention out to the universe last week.  In writing.  “I will go on a proper date.  This month.”  It was Wednesday when I wrote these words down and sent them to my girlfriends.

Friday night I decided to run the stairs near my house.  129 of them.  Ten times.  Have I mentioned that I am not a small girl?  Anyhow I ran the stairs.  And when I was done I did some wall squats and stretched on the grass nearby.  As I was stretching I noticed a car passing.  These particular stairs are situated behind a stripmall.  No one drives back there, especially at 8PM on friday night.  That back driveway is pretty much reserved for delivery trucks, as it provides access to the loading bays of the stores at this end of the strip mall.

I stretch some more.  Do some crunches.  Push-ups.  You know the drill.  Vehicle circles back around.  I realize it’s the mall security guy.  Since there were no cars back there I never bothered to properly park my car in a stall.  I just sort of pulled it over to the side and left it there, at the base of the stairs.

So I thought I was going to get in trouble for parking my car in not a stall.  As I went to the car to try and avoid getting in trouble, because I’m dorky that way, he comes back.  Rolls down his window.  Stops at my car.  And then he proceeded to tell me about how he was watching some kids and making sure they weren’t about to graffiti up the building, because that’s what they do, those kids from up the hill.

Thirty minutes later I had learned that he was a special olympics volunteer, that he was with a woman for 5.5 years.  That he ruined that relationship buy buying an awesome sound system for exactly the same price as the engagement ring that she wanted.  That he met his next gf on the internet and that it wasn’t working out.  (This is where I realized it was a pickup).  That he was born into the hell’s angels.  That he goes to the tattoo show every year.  (I did not tell him I skate – we have a track set up at the tattoo fest and if he really does go, he’d know that.)  He has two kids.  When he realized I truly wasn’t interested, he told me about some girl in Malaysia who is saving herself for him.  Because he’s that great.  Maybe I was supposed to be impressed by that?  I wasn’t.

So in the pro column, I went out alone, did something I enjoyed, got exercise, AND met a man.  In the con column:  Dating is a scary world.  One that is full of men that I feel absolutely no attraction for.

Am I angry because I am jealous that he’s getting laid and I’m not?

Or is it because I think it’s damaging to my son that he’s having sleepovers when he’s there?

Or is it because he can have a fucking party every other fucking weekend when my son is not there?

And let’s just assume it’s jealousy.  Because I think that’s likely it.  What the hell am I jealous of?  He’s dating a girl who was totally married when they met.  The relationship can’t be all that awesome/healthy/good.  And if it is?  I should just be happy that he’s happy.  I’ll work on that.

I’m not one of those new agey people.  I don’t visit psychics.  I’ve never had my tarot cards read.  I don’t even read my horoscope.  At the beginning of the year I talked about intentions and how I might believe in them, at least enough to sit down and write an entry about what I wanted to put out there this year, but that was about as new age as I get.

“Put out there”?  I’ve always really thought it was hokey.  Putting stuff out to the universe, as if some sort of force were taking into account all of these wishes and spitting them back out into tangible results.  Does the force assess the outcome before spitting stuff out?  Does it consider how my wish will affect someone else?  I dunno.  But I do know that everytime I say the words “put it out to the universe” out loud, I chuckle inside, because really?  I don’t actually believe the universe is listening.

Except today I remembered something:  When I was in therapy with my husband we had to talk about relationships and our expectations.  We had to come up with what we thought the ideal relationship looked like.  What we wanted out of our relationship.  I wish I wrote it down so I’d be able to get back to exactly what it was I was thinking.  However I know a few specifics that I noted:  I desire a man who trusts me.  Who does not expect me to share every. little. detail.  I do not want to feel like I’ve got to tell him what I did with every minute of the day, lest he suspect that I was cheating on him in that unaccounted for bit of time.  I want a man who I am seriously attracted to.  Whose ass I want to grab.  Who I am still attracted to a few years into the relationship.

I want a man who understands me.  Who knows when to back off.  Who doesn’t feel the need to attend every social function with me.  Who doesn’t expect to sleep in my bed every night.  In fact, I’d like it if he went home every night.

And then we get to the part that is most familiar:  I do not want to hold hands.  I do not want to cuddle.  I do not want to hug all the time.

We did a lot of talking about what I find attractive in a man, and why my husband isn’t attractive to me.  So obviously, i picked out traits that are opposite to him:  I do not like feelings.  No feelings.  No crying.  No sensitive innards.  I want a little bit of indifference.  I like it when I feel like I have to work for his attention.  And yes, this part is a little messed up.  And yeah, it has plenty to do with my relationship with my father.

So what do you know?  It turns out I got exactly what I asked for.  A man I am insanely attracted to, who isn’t holding my hand, kissing or cuddling me.  Who gets me so worked up when he’s moved to become passionate about anything.  (when he gets pissed off I want to jump him.)  Who hides his feelings behind walls.  Who speaks my language.

Exactly what I ordered.

I am going to read the menu a little closer this time.

So I realize how this looks:  First I write about how much fun we had that night we went to the bar and hung out and got high and went to eat chinese, getting me home at around 4 in the morning.  Then I go on and on about how jealous I am because some little asian twat from the coast comes over to visit him and blah blah blah.  When I wrote that I was *sure* they were having mad sex all over his apartment.

(FYI he did let me know that they did not sleep together.  He worked it in all nonchalant.  Because normally we do not discuss the sex that may or may not go on over weekends.  I mean really, we never say “hey how was your weekend?  I didn’t have sex.”  But because (and of course I may be reading into this) he knew that I didn’t want to know if he did have sex, I’m guessing he figured out that if he didn’t have sex YES I would love to know that for a fact, he told me.)  So yes, no sex.  Also and really this is totally as awkward as it sounds:  I asked him if he is in love with her.  (to illustrate the crazy, his response to that was “in love with who?”)  So no, not in love.

And then last weekend happens.  And true to the pattern, it was fantastic.

Friday night I had dinner with him and his friends.  Then I went out with my girlfriends and had the Best Time Ever at karaoke.  The next morning he picked me up early at my place (with coffee!) and we went snowboarding.  On the way back I exclaimed that I was hungry.  Ten minutes later he said he was too.  Did he realize I was trying to have dinner with him?  I’m starting to believe the theory that he really *is* as dumb as we suspect he is.

WAIT WAIT hold on because we have newsbreaking stories rolling in here as. I. type.  Every night I talk to crushboy online.  Every night.  We have an unwritten online date every night at 10.  Except for weekends when every0ne is allowed to do whatever and no one really had to explain themselves.  Except normally we do anyways, because there isn’t much explaining to do.  So it’s sunday night and I’m on my standard 10PM date.  Which, now that I check the log, STARTED AT TWELVE MINUTES AFTER TEN.  I am not imagining this time.  We have a date.  It starts at 10.  End of story.  Whatever you wanted to do tonight, get it done now because ten is when we start our chitchat.  No earlier because that just keeps both of us from being productive all night.

For real, yo.  We both are kind of in the habit of not turning the thing on until ten.  Yet we’ve never actually discussed the rules that surround our “agreement.”

Anyhow, we are talking tonight and I’m talking and he’s not answering for oh, I dunno, a minute?  When my phone goes off.  Text.  From him.  Dude.  He TEXTED ME TO TELL ME THAT HIS INTERNET CONNECTION CRAPPED OUT.  Are you kidding me?  He’s polite and shit?  Most of my other friends would just drop it and let me assume that you lost your connection.  I know better than to think he just hung up on me.

Back to Saturday I guess.  We had dinner.  Well no, we didn’t just have dinner.  First you have to understand that my apartment is kind of at the edge of town.  When one returns from the skihill that we went to, my apartment is the first stop.  That’s pretty much why I can always scam a ride to the skihill.  That’s also specifically why I was OK with living all the way out here.  So instead of dropping me at home and making me drive all over the place to meet him for dinner, he asked me if it was ok if we ate way up north, (OK, sure, more time in the car with you, cute cute boy…)

As it turns out, this particular restaurant no longer existed at the location he was looking for.  So we had to drive downtown to visit their other location.  Downtown.  That’s like twenty minutes away, maybe thirty.

He took me home.  He had a party to go to that night.  I was asleep by 9.

The next morning he invited me to breakfast.  Now, keep in mind that his friends were all hungover from the party.  So really he had no one else available to him.  Plus I was online.  I doubt that he would have picked up the phone and directly invited me out for breakfast.  Normally this is something reserved for his male counterparts, so it was kind of a big deal to me that he invited me to breakfast.

After that we went back to his place…

And did not have sex.  We hung out.  I spent the day with him.  We had to pick up a friend of his.  We had a good time.

He also told me that he considered calling me Saturday night to see if I needed a driver.  How sweet is that?  Except you’re right.  He didn’t.  Minus whatever sweet points I considered giving him just then.

I went home in the late afternoon.

The week was good except for the fact that he’s likely taking a new job (elsewhere) soon and said job will take him to That Other County which will not be named, because really too many facts and this all becomes highly googlable.

I had a point back there when I started this entry.  It was to say basically that you should not take my weekend drama all that seriously because I am aware of the fact that I tend to have a shit weekend one week and an OMGICANTBELIEVETHATJUSTHAPPENED weekend the next.

So the crush has a guest this weekend. Uh huh you heard me. She lives elsewhere and she invited herself on his fb wall which kind of says to me that they don’t talk all that much.

Anyhow. The last time I talked to him was the morning the day she got here. She leaves tomorrow. I am not dealing well with this.

Keep in mind I have no confirmation that they are messing around. Also I clearly told him that if they do have sex I do not want to know. Crystal clear I think.

And then today my son told me that his father’s gf has moved in. Because kids, they say random shit. I did not ask him. I do not ask him stuff like that, for real.

So again with the not dealing well.

And then I went to get coffee this afternoon.  I got out of my car, walked towards the coffee shop, and realized the my ex husband, his (married) girlfriend and my son were walking towards the same coffee shop.  I stopped, hesitated for a second, and turned around.  got back in the car.  I’m sure they saw me.  My son didn’t, but the other two I am SURE.  There’s no way they could have missed me.

It was a good weekend. Friday night I made it home around 4. Spent the evening with the crush and his friends. Saturday I played a game in a neighboring city. We lost but had fun.

I know updates are spotty and somewhat lame. I will work on that.

Ps this was sitting in drafts hence the late posting.

Some of you are confused. Because one day I’m saying I’m done with him, whatever, universe, and the next I’m listing off love letters.

The thing with writing online is that I get to write what I want you to read, and you are receptive to what your own mind is ready to receive, and somewhere between the two is the truth.

In the ten years that I’ve written online I’ve learned to let go of the need to explain every last detail. That they don’t matter. The only reason I do this is to let go of these snippets of my life. And to archive them, because sometimes I really enjoy reading about how crazy I was during certain times in my life. And because it’s my life, I own that roadmap that says I was driving through texas when I wrote that entry, so my understanding and re-living of these moments is completely different from when you read through them.

But there’s been some confusion in the past couple of days, and just this once (no promises, I may do it again) I think I will step in and answer some questions.

1. The sweet things he did for me? That’s an ongoing list. He bought the yarn last summer.
2. The entry about the anxiety? A friend of mine sent him an email that basically said “hey I think she might love you.” It put me on edge for a whole 8 hours or so, from the time she hit send to the time he texted me the next morning to let me know he was on his way to work.

Yes, he does that. No, not because we have a checking-in system, but because I am in charge of putting on the morning coffee.

The rest of the day was completely normal. He’s a good friend. Quit worrying about me. I said I’m enjoying it, and I am. I might enjoy it more if he would kiss me, but I’m good with this, especially if he’s just going to leave me for some other country.

3. Yes, I AM pursuing other options. The world doesn’t stand still for this man.

sweet things the crush has done for me

• attempted to fix the tv that stopped working, complete with solder and manly tools.
• he thinks of me when he goes for coffee.  and brings one back for me.  every time.
• chocolate.
• random texts about nothing.
• emails with links to things he finds interesting or pretty.
• regular IMs.
• he unloaded furniture from an ill-planned IKEA run of mine.  and brought friends to help.
• he has brought me music.
• daily lunch invites.
• he giggles everytime he catches me counting the tip total on my fingers.
• he avoids scratching his fork on the plate because he knows it drives me insane.

When we stand close to each other and he looks me in the eye, I always wonder if he feels what I feel.  Because (and this is going to sound so high school of me to say) how the hell can I be the only one who feels it?