Try Honesty

Sometimes, you need to just put it on the line. Woodstock reminded me today that it’s okay to stand up for yourself. The very fact that she said I don’t like confrontation, and that reminded me that I needed to stand up for myself.

So I did. TheGiant has been here a lot in the past week, and he’s been taking some… liberties that I wasn’t fond of. I complained to T. and to Pretty and to Woodstock, who reminded me that my home is my home, and I need to keep it that way. So I sent TheGiant a short (for me) email that advised him that certain liberties were not really cool with me. God, I’m so glad that I have friends who can remind me of this type of stuff.

I’ll have to write another entry tomorrow. I’m tired, and I’m talking to TheGiant, and I’m fast losing patience with the whole “awake” thing. I have the feeling this is going to be  a busy weekend, and with the moving and the potential surprise party plans and the working and the upcoming house-sitting… I’m a little… tiny bit… stressed out.

And I miss Chicago and Grammar far more than I thought I would. I rely on both of them to keep me on an even keel. It’s weird; I didn’t realize how much I expected from them; how much I anticipate their emails and texts. I don’t think it would be so bad if only one of them was gone, but with both of them overlapping their vacations… Grrr. Don’t they know I need them here?

Rage Against the Machine

I had thought I was done growing. I’d thought that I’d learned everything I could, and that it was time to move on, move forward, become a new person, a better person.

I have learned that I am not done growing. I haven’t learned squat, and I’m still in need of lessons.

I have learned that I’ve rushed things with TheGiant to my own detriment. I’m not losing interest, exactly, but I have taken a healthy and gigantic step backwards. There are reasons for dating rules. Many reasons. I love having someone here, anyone, it appears. Okay, not anyone, I’m not a flat-out whore. But I’m opening myself and my home and my heart too soon. He is not able to commit to the level that I want. And thus, in my own typical fashion, I am backing off. Backing down, and burrowing back into my turtle shell. Not that I’m retreating completely, but that I’m pulling back into myself so I can better observe this whole relationship concept.

We talked tonight via IM. He has no intention of telling the ex about us, or that he’s having a relationship with someone else. I find that cowardice, myself. T. pointed out that I didn’t tell TheEx about my relationships. True, I didn’t tell him, but I didn’t deliberately hide them, either. That’s what TheGiant is doing. But whatever. If that’s how he wants to roll, then I feel less guilty about the fact that I accepted a coffee date with the Ukranian for Sunday night.

T. reminded me that I am the prize. I’m the one who gets to decide. I don’t need any of these guys. And once you remember that, the whole damn experience becomes much more liberating. If the Ukranian doesn’t take kindly to the fact that I’m divorced, well, okay. There will be someone else. If TheGiant wants to shelter his ex from the truth, well, okay. There will be someone else.

I think I’ve developed a certain confidence over the past few months, and it must be starting to show. I’m happy on my own, and I know that matters. I got complimented by a gas station attendant today. And then a taxi driver held a door open for me when I was coming from half the parking lot away.

I put down the deposit on my new apartment this afternoon, and I gave my new landlord the paint samples. The colours are completely different from what I polled my friends and family about. The yellow is Jonquil for the hallway and the living room. The bedroom and bathroom will be a steely greenish grey colour. It’s lovely. I think the pine furniture will make it look cosy. I’ll get a bright shower curtain and maybe some more mirrors and some lace curtains to liven up the bathroom.

Last night TheGiant came by. He was proving a point, I know. He’s the first since TheEx to…er… yeah. Suffice it to say, if Chicago weren’t on a plane to Germany right now, he’d be pumping his fist in the air for me.

I plan on telling the Ukranian on Sunday that I’m divorced, and let him deal with that.

They laid off the fellow who mentored me when I started at Hell yesterday. It was pretty upsetting. Damned upsetting, actually. He sheltered me, he was my rock, and he showed me the ropes. I argued with him once in the course of almost sixteen months.

I’m PMS’ing, which explains the rapid-fire thought process changes. I’m also lacking sleep, and I’m stressed out by all these changes. New apartment, new love interests, new realizations that I know so very little… I miss Grammar, because he always brings me back to the basics. I heard from him yesterday, but nothing today. He’s back from England on Monday. I miss Woodstock, who would ground me the way I need it right now. I miss T., who would stroke my ego and tell me I’m the prize, and then make me laugh.

I miss a lot of stuff. And most of all, I miss my bed.

Out of the Frying Pan (and into the fire)

I am torn, over the past few days. I’m torn about telling the people who are reading this what I’ve done. I mean, meeting a guy for the first time, inviting him to my apartment, sleeping with him, and then seeing him for the following two days, one of which involved a (nonsexual) sleepover… It’s not exactly mature behaviour on my part. But T. tells me that I’m quite mature. So perhaps I’m just acting my age for once.

TheGiant is apparently not the type to tell his friends anything. They know he was here Saturday night, and they know he spent the night here last night, and that’s about it. Not “details”, such as men are prone to share in the privacy of their beers.

So now I’m torn between being as completely open (brave, as Woodstock calls it) about my own life, and also wanting to protect a fledgling relationship and someone else’s privacy. I know there’s no way anyone could ever identify this guy simply by the title TheGiant. It’s the same with anyone who I mention here. My goal is never to talk about your lives, it’s to talk about my life, and sometimes my position in your lives. It’s a strange level of discomfort and I’m not sure what to do about it. Or how to handle it.

Which leads me to another dilemma; the Ukranian FB emailed me late last night. I’ve thus far avoided responding to him, and one of the reasons is that I think he’s a dick for waiting this long to contact me. Two weeks? Really? I know I’m impatient, but that’s just rude. I don’t care if you were working. If you were sick, if you were traveling. If you have time to update your FB status, you have time to drop someone an email and say “hey”. However, he was fun, he was entertaining, and I enjoyed going out with him. I do wonder how much of him is flash-in-the-pan marketing persona and how much is really him. And, I’ll fully admit that the age difference is worrisome. Perhaps only to me. Perhaps I am guilty of ageism.

So I haven’t responded. Part of it is petty – make him wait. And part of it is genuine confusion about what the hell to do with TheGiant and the Ukranian. AM2 said I could see both at the same time, and theoretically, that’s possible. But she also doesn’t know I’ve already slept with TheGiant.

And then there’s the fact that I’m moving. That AM2 is in a bad place in her life right now and leaned on me tonight and actually pissed me off, too. (her feedback on TheGiant? “I’ll be here when he lets you down and it all goes south.” What a miserable comment to make.) And Grammar is still in England. I’m super-ass tired tonight, I’m PMS’ing, and Chicago is flying to Germany tomorrow. And the fucking guy upstairs still has his fucking company.

Breathe in, breathe out, Blue. Only a few more weeks, and it’ll be blessed silence…

Looking for a Place to Happen

Okay, I nicknamed him Mystery, but T. made me crack up today when she called him TheGiant. So TheGiant it is. He’s coming over here within the next forty-five minutes or so. I told her about him – she says it sounds like I’m dating myself. I laughed, because that might be closer to the truth than I want to admit. But she asked for a picture, and so did AM2. I’ll get on it.

I also “hid” my account at that site today. He’s been logging in, but I refuse to monitor his behaviour. And I certainly have no reason to be on there right now.

I toured the apartment again tonight while I was out with AM2. She thoroughly approved of it. She said it’s small, but that I wasn’t home all that often, anyway. I think it will work. I might need to make a trip or two to Ikea for some cupboards and so forth, but I think it will work. The bedroom will work, and that’s the most important part. The rest I can work on.

I’ll pick my paint colours and give them to him Wednesday night when I go back over to sign the paperwork. The only thing he asks is that I get tenant insurance, which is fine with me. I already have it for here, and it would be stupid not to continue with it.

Other than that, I’m freezing. I just got out of a freezing cold shower. Shocking, huh? I am really, really looking forward to having my own hot water tank and not being dependent on anyone else for anything. It’s one more stair than here (lol), but I think I’m going to like it there. Pretty said she’d thought I’d like it there. And AM2 said she thinks I’ll like it there. OMG, I’m MOVING!!!

That means I have to pack. Didn’t I go through this just a year ago? Christ. I must be a glutton for punishment.

All right, TheGiant shall be here soon. I’m going to go find my spare pair of socks (I am sooo cold) and throw something in the DVD player.

Butts Wigglin’

For some reason, I am reluctant to blog about this. I don’t know why. Chicago, get out your pad, another pseudonym headed your way…

Mystery and I met online on Thursday. I’m not saying where or how, because it is, for the most part, irrelevant. He was looking for someone like me, I was looking for someone like him. We started chatting on IM. My IM status says, “Blue will be officially single on February 22″. His first line to me was, “So what am I supposed to do for the next three days?” I laughed my ass off. We turned on webcams (clothed, people!) and talked for hours. Two hours? Two and a half? Just random junk. Random about each of us, random internet chatter. He asked me out for dinner on Saturday night. I accepted. Without a qualm.

I texted him Friday morning - give me some credit, I wanted to do it at 6 a.m. when I woke up, and waited until 8:45. As I’m apparently an impatient person, that’a great deal of restrait for me! He texted me back, and we played text-tag for a while. I added him to My5. I have a feeling…  

He called me when I was out with Pretty on Friday night. I feel bad, but I think she was very understanding. He and I talked for forty-five minutes. Then when I got home, we IM’ed some more. He wondered if I would feel comfortable going out for a drink with him. Problem is that we’re not exactly next-door neighbours. I invited him here. And before you even think it, trust me, I did, too. How bloody stupid, blah blah… I don’t know what to say. I had already given his cell number and name to Pretty. And I was IM’ing with TheEx at the time, and told him I was about to have company, so people knew who and what. Short of that, the walls in this place are so damn thin it’d be crazy if something happened and I couldn’t get help.

Anyway, he showed up Friday night around midnight. We talked until past three a.m.. He’s smart, witty, sarcastic, cute… He left around 4:45 Saturday morning. I had to drag my ass out of bed around 10 to get to work on time. I was extremely worried that I’d had another Hockey experience. But I couldn’t . . . it didn’t feel wrong to me. It didn’t have that slightly sour feel to it that Hockey gave me (fucker, I should just use his name). Mystery didn’t strike me as that smooth, that capable of deception.

He showed up here around 8 tonight. He came in for a few minutes, we chatted, then we went out for dinner. No fears, Chicago, he paid. It’s just past twelve now, and he just left. He already plans to come back on Thursday. Which is fine – I’m trying to get Thursday night off. I don’t feel… I don’t feel that I have to be someone I’m not with him. With Hockey, I felt like I had to be polished to a certain degree. With OM, I had to be on the ball, witty, and young and smart. I’m very comfortable with this guy, even with my body. He’s not overbearing or too bold or even too mellow. He’s loud, I’ll give him that. The deep voice really carries.

He’s working as a tool maker apprentice. Not some average JoeBlow, though. Mystery is intelligent and up on politics and news and everything… At dinner, he challenged me to name the past PMs and Presidents. He knew more than I did, and he’s only two years older than me. I couldn’t stop grinning, because as he’s going on about Chretien’s politics, the only thing I could think was that, T.’s gonna like him. And I don’t mind having him in my space. Normally I don’t like to share. Even at 6′3″ and 230lbs, I don’t think he’s a mis-fit.

I need to blog about the apartment, too, but my God, I am flat-out exhausted.

PS – Grammar is in England… he texted me two or three times on Friday. He’s still alive!

No Time

I’d blog, but I’ve spent the past two hours chatting with a guy I met online. And I like him. And we’re meeting for dinner on Saturday night. And it’s 12:30 and I need sleep. So… no blogging.

Fat-Bottomed Girls

So I got another comment on one of my recent posts. I had to edit it to remove someone’s email address from showing (Woodstock), and it occurred to me that I never did that with Chicago’s posts. Oh well.

I looked at an apartment in Burlington tonight. It’s far too small. It would be about like condensing my current apartment to my bedroom and kitchen. The bedroom in this place was absolutely huge. But there was basically no living area. No, I couldn’t flip them, because the bedrooms of the downstairs units are under the “bedroom” of this place. There’s no tub, just a (small) shower stall. No fridge – just a bar-fridge. There’s no enclosed space, either. You go in the front door and up the stairs to this place. I told the owner I’d have to have a door, or his cat would eat my bird. Bah. It’s not going to work, even at the fantastic price he’s offering it for. Pretty and I are going to see another one Friday night. Maybe it’ll be better.

I also saw TLG tonight. I am down another 1.75″ and I’m down 5lbs of body fat since I saw her last two and a half weeks ago. That’s great news, because last time, I had gained several pounds of fat and lost a couple pounds of muscle. This time, I’ve lost all fat and regained almost five pounds of muscle. For the uninitiated, that is a shitload of muscle mass to regain in a short period of time. I asked TLG to double-check it – surely that was wrong? Nope.

Anyway, I have to get some sleep. Tomorrow’s another day. (Did I mention that the Upstairsian has company this week? I’d like to stick screwdrivers in their eyes…)

The Joker

I come home from the gym, and I swear it’s like I’m high. I know it’s the endorphins, I understand that concept. But I’m tired and beat up and hungry and I feel like someone put helium in where my brain oughtta be.

I’ve been talking to Grammar for hours now. I’m going to miss him so much when he heads to the UK at the end of this week. I don’t know if he talks to other people as much as he talks to me, but on a per-conversation basis, I probably talk to him more than I talk to anyone else, except maybe Chicago.  I wonder what goes on in his head (Grammar’s), but I refuse to over-analyze him of all people.

I found an ad online for an apartment in Burlington today. It looks…perfect. Frankly, it looks perfect. But God, the costs of moving will blow me out of the water. So will the costs of first and last months’ rent. But the place is only $50/month more than I’m paying now. It’s a top-floor unit, and it’s in a quiet, basically family-run building. It’s in a good area, and it’s … well, there’s gotta be something wrong with it. I love my apartment. I love being here, and for Pete’s Sake, Pretty just hung the last of my art on Sunday for me. The idea of packing up and moving makes me cringe. Even though I know I’d have a lot of helpers. AM2 and her family. AM1. Pretty and The Ex and so on… But that rental cost includes everything – even internet!

I emailed the fellow and asked if I could look at the unit. If he wants to rent it for March 1, it’s irrelevant; I have to give a months’ notice at least (I have no lease here).

Grammar’s going to England. Chicago’s off to Germany soon. T. is flying every which way across the continent. I’m divorced on Saturday. My birthday is in 15 days. Perhaps January/February are always going to be trying months for me.

On that note, I should sleep.

Lonely

I’m blogging from bed because I’m tired and miserable. I left North today (doing the speed limit) and headed down to visit Woodstock. I only got lost twice, but with the help of a trusty map and my ‘berry, got myself back on track.

Woodstock was good. I know a lot of things about her life are up in the air right now, but she seemed so calm. I truly think there’s something about expectant mothers that gives them a certain glow or air or hint of mystery that makes every woman slightly envious, like she’s missing out on something. Her little one is so well-mannered, too. He came over and gave me a hug and cuddled for a minute, and that was just wonderful. There isn’t anything like a toddler’s little hug to melt your heart. I wish I could have stayed longer; knowing I’m going to see them again shortly for my surprise party made it okay to leave.

I’m lonely. I’m okay with admitting that. I’m also okay with admitting that I think the Ukranian’s job was to teach me not to leap before I look. I give too much of myself too easily, and then I wonder why I get hurt so often. I do it to myself. I have high expectations from people, I guess, and perhaps I should lower them. Not my standards, just my expectations.

I don’t know. I just know I spent my Family Day leaving my family, connecting only briefly with my sister via telephone, unable to see Pretty or T., and being with Woodstock, wishing for a moment or two that I had her life.

Last Night I had the Strangest Dream

I’m tired. Which is odd, because I’ve only been up for about ten hours. Sleeping here is fantastic. The bed isn’t the most comfortable, and the window lets in too much light. Dad snores really loudly, and the dogs pace outside the door. But there’s a certain amount of completely carefree sleep that comes when you’re under your parents’ roof.

T. IM’med with me for a bit today, after sending me an email that said, “drive safe and drive slow. (why slow? because of the weather?)” She was freaked out when I told her about yesterday’s speeding ticket. *sigh* That figures – a day late, and $95 short! In other news, she met a guy at the airport today (shocking, huh?). He was funny, because of course he talked to me on IM for several minutes while she spoke with her mother. At least he was smart enough to know that sometimes, the way to a woman is through her friend.

Went to work with Mom for a bit tonight and watched a movie. She taught me how to reverse the row and crochet the next line tonight. I can do it! I can’t do any of the other fancy stuff yet, but I can crochet one giant-ass scarf!! lol. Bit by bit, I’ll figure it out. I can do it. Mom showed me, and didn’t get frustrated when I did. It isn’t like it’s a difficult skill to grasp, but I’m not an abstract thinker like that, able to follow directions on paper instead of in 3D format. I need to be shown.

Now I’m tired, and sort of… spacey. We were watching Matrix: Revolutions, and now I sort of feel like my entire world is not what I think it is. I’m all kerfuffled. Lost in a bit of a daze. I re-read some old journal entries the other night, and I think I’m living a bit in the past. February 2008 was a very tumultuous month, and going through February 2009 is a bit… hard on me. February was the first time I was intimate with Hotshot. It was when NJ and I were supposed to meet. I was moving out, the apartment was a holy hell of a mess, and the position with the company in the US was still up in the air.

I find myself in a weird place, and some people would say it’s because I live in the past too much. I’m just grasping to understand how much has changed in a year; what there is still to accomplish, and how to move forward with life. I think, too, spending all that money to fix the car wreaked havoc on my peace of mind. That’s what the money was there for, but I feel a bit like I’m in the middle of a lake and my boat has sprung a slow leak. I’m sure I can make it back to shore (and safety), but at the same time, I’m in a bit of a precarious position should something else go wrong (like, if my oar breaks).

I guess I’m just a tad bit unsettled, which is probably to be expected, given that my 30th is rapidly approaching, and I’m re-living a certain amount of last year’s fiasco. This too, shall pass.

PS – no word from the Ukranian. Onward? And upward!