Delirium

So you know there's always the gal out there that holds on too long and doesn't face the truth of what's happening to her, right? Well, you've guessed it, that's me! Stamp my head with Sucker and let's move on. While I know fully that my friends are nearly choking trying to stifle their opinions on my pining for lost love, I'm still holding out for something that may never come. But as I described to them, it's going to hurt regardless, I might as well enjoy the fantasy for a while! So, if you hadn't guessed it, without me going into pathetic detail . . . the man of my dreams is MIA. There's something about Yemen that must be attractive to these guys to take a permanent hiatus and some alluring X factor with a high pay off that keys them into not mentioning it to the gal they professed their love to! Argh!

Not only has my recent love, we'll call him "GI Just Disappeared" disappeared to Yemen (a hot vacation spot for seemingly committing yet desparately uncommitting men), but those that had disappeared to Yemen previously (on of them from 9 months ago, the first of my heartaches that took this sabbatical) have returned. Resurfaced and contacted me just wondering "what was up". What's up??????? You suckered me into thinking I loved you, that's what's up! In fact, BOTH men who took the hiatus have resurfaced. Nice. Classy in fact, glad I didn't invest anything further in them! Yikes! So, one of course starts to think that I'm the common denominator, and I am. But what's the trick? Guys making themselves seem available and then freak out only after having finally convinced the gal that they're worth loving? I hold off as long as I can before falling for them and as soon as I do, they're gone. It's the age old "thrill of the chase" element. Once she agrees to be yours, kindly turn your tail and run for the hills! Why not at least be like the other guys and just say you're in it for the sex? They might be pigs, but at least they're honest!

Creating Zen

I've lectured my friends about this numerous times. It's so important to create an environment that is your own sanctuary, a peaceful place of escape. Sometime in junior high, on a field trip to Spring Brook, the instructors told us to find our special place, a place where we could reflect and feel comfortable and expressive . . . blah blah blah. Well, as an adult, I'm convinced that we don't make enough time to do that so we have to at least make all or part of our home such a place, such a sanctuary if you will. I could define this, but I supposed that would only really include what I find as peaceful. Soft materials, plants, aesthetically pleasing colors, books, candles, sunlight, music, etc. Everyone should have a place that can serve as a muse, so that creative juices can flow freely. I suppose it's this romantic notion that makes me a sappy romantic. Well, this is one of the notions, I have many things that make me sappy. Off for a walk to the lake to read for a while and redefine further what sappy zen is to me. Oh, and has anyone really understood the magnitude of what Mother Theresa really did? Wow, what an incredible lady, perhaps I'm misplaced and really need to go live amongst the poorest of the poor and help them, and subsequently help myself. Perhaps looking for love in all the wrong places is not my gig. Don't laugh at me, I think everyone has let the thought of becoming a nun graze past them at least briefly! Okay, enough deep reflection for this sunny afternoon!

Life is Like a Condiment Packet . . .

If you squeeze it, it seems full. If you let it lie there, it's boring. If you slice it or dice it or run over it with your car, y ou just get ketchup all over the road. So, I think the best theory is to keep it firmly held in your hand and don't forget about it or let it lie stagnant or you will be disappointed.

It's been nearly 1 1/2 months since my last entry and if you think I'm going back to update every day between then and now, you're nuts. My life is not nearly exciting enough to fill that many entries so I find it's best to summarize here. I moved, towards the end of March. I still see Eddie from time to time. I've had another date with another guy, we'll call him Eagle, and I'll probably see him again. I might see yet another, but that remains to be seen. I quit my Aftershock meetings, much to his dismay although he doesn't know it's official yet. My friends are busy having babies and getting married and I do nothing but assist in the process. I'd imagine that whenever the day comes that this romantic every gets hitched and starts cranking out kids, there will be some fantastic parties because a) no one thought they would ever happen and b) it will have been so long since someone got married or had a kid that everyone will be thrilled to attend a party. Unfortunately, it will be a cup of Ensure meal replacement at the local legion hall or even nursing home because I'll be 150 when it finally happens and they'll have to feed us intravenously because our esophagus' no longer function and we can't see each other because our cataracts have taken over our vision, but I'm sure it will be a real hootin' good time!

I'm not bitter though, not in the slightest. This single life is actually pretty advantageous. I can go wherever the hell I please whenever the hell I choose to go there. It's fantastic. I can come home late and leave late and the only one that I'm responsible for is my cat. Speaking of, I'd better pay her some attention and unpack some more boxes. Until we meet again . . .

Pseu Pseu Pseudio

Pseudo love . . . I want to (dun dun) run away, I want to (dun dun) run away from the (something something something . . . ).
Eddie came over last night, and all was good in the neighborhood. I tell ya, we spend more time cuddling and talking and being cute now than anything (not to mention the earth shattering badabing). Unfortunately his nephew was locked out of their place so he had to leave at 3am. Today I cleaned and sorted and packed with Snow White. Last night I went to Target where I ran into a friend from high school that I'd not seen in like 6 or 7 years (and became saddened when we could summarize our lives in about 30 seconds), then went to Aftershocks' for INCREDIBLE applecrisp that he insisted on making me and to get boxes (he had none of them unpacked and ready for me) but I had some mediocre badabing anyways. I think that's the last time I'll do that. Between his annoying me and no boxes, and suddenly bad breath, I can't do it, not now at least and I'm kinda floating after my night with Eddie a little more than usual, what's up with that? Might I like this one? Nah, can't be true, and certainly not a possibility! Better shake off that thought.

When It Rains?

I entered this day sweating and screaming from a nightmare and figured it would be a rainy crappy series of hours. After fighting the on line e-filing system of the IRS, I game out as the conqueror of the taxes, meaning I finally completed them. Just the fundage I'll need to move and get my checkbook back in the black. And when I'd resigned to think that I was going to have another boring Saturday night, Eddie called. Being sweet and romantic and wanting to spend time with me. And Aftershock already asked if he could cook for me tomorrow, we'll see. The GI from Iraq surfaced after a couple of months reaffirming his desire to be with me when he returns in March. Oh, and Patrick's in town, according to my trustworthy bird friend, Jinx. I'll try to work the situation so that I can see him, although who really knows what a face to face confrontation will bring with that cat. Who woulda thought that a rainy/snowy day in the mid-west would have brought all of that! Off to the bookstore with one of my gals to take in the aroma.

Apocalypse Now

I'm pretty sure the end of the world is near when The Player has a steady boyfriend and The Romantic is dancing on the border of playing. Let it be known that playing is not my choice, it's sometimes an accident and only done if romance is not available. It's called pseudo-loving. A false representation of love that I can intentionally misconstrue and try to make appear to be love when in reality, it's so far from it. I dabble in pseudo-love with full understanding that it is not what I want it to be. Strangely enough, it still hurts me sometimes. This is why The Romantic sucks at playing!! She dips her toe in it and then nearly cries about it later when it didn't turn out to be what she really wanted in her heart. Bah, I should boycott pseudo-love, but when it's all one's got, it's something. Always better than nothing. On the bright side, The Player is elated, on some foreign cloud and talking in a language I understand but never thought she spoke. Three cheers for elation!

Conversation Hearts

Another single Valentine's Day that didn't devastate me. I went out for a few drinks after work with a few gals to protest the cursed day . . . actually it was just an excuse to drink beer and because we were all dressed up, it seemed appropriate. After about 64 ounces too many, I went home to retire and to return phone calls from Aftershock and Eddie sweetly wishing me a good holiday. I fought with Eddie about whether or not he was coming over and I eventually won. I went to bed alone and loved it. After all, what is this holiday really about? Finding the one day out of the year to go overboard on pink and red sweets and nasty tasting chocolates, including chocolate covered cherries which I am convinced was one person's way of insulting the tastebuds of the civilized world. Oh right, it's really about finding something cheap and sparkly to put on the wrist of the gal that you love, and cuddling up to her like you care so that tomorrow you can go back to being the jerk you've been all week. Right? Ha. I know it means more to people than that, I just wish they'd define it for themselves instead of falling victim to the commercialized version of what's expected of them. Do something original out there guys, something that matters to her, not to the larger female gender.