More whingeing

So I still feel like a jerk for breaking up with H. I really am uncomfortable with upsetting people. I guess this makes me a caring individual. It has surprised me. I'm kind of in a funk about the whole thing. Last night I sent him an email telling him that I did really enjoy his company and that I would still like him to be a part of my life, though I realized it was callous of me even to ask. I said that if he didn't want to reply to the email that I would understand, but that I would leave the proverbial ball in his court. He has not yet replied. Which makes me feel even worse. Oh well, he's getting the last laugh by rejecting my offer of friendship. I don't think I would want to be friends with me either. I just want everyone to love and hug each other, but I guess that doesn't happen in real life.

In less complicated news, went for coffee with a couple of coworkers today. I had bought some Trident gum earlier in the day and M said (very a la Seinfeld), "I'm not such a big fan of the Trident, I prefer the Extra". To which I replied, "I like the Trident. The Trident is a solid gum, though the Extra has its positive points too". He said, "The Trident doesn't have any staying power. I need the staying power". I just about fell off my chair laughing. It was such a juvenile thing, and possibly I was overtired, but it just slayed me. It took my coworkers a good ten or twenty seconds to figure out why tears were streaming from my eyes. Staying power. Yeah, that's gonna be the least of my worries for the next little while. I must say I will also miss sex with H, he was most attentive and creative.
Not much else going on. Went to my running clinic after contemplating skipping it. Brutal menstrual cramps. Tried to weasel out by luring my friend C with the promise of drinks, but he had plans. His email to me (which I'm going to assume came via Blackberry) was something like, "You should go to your climic, your kicking ass th3se day". Um, don't tell me what to do. Alright, his spelling wasn't that bad, but he is right that I'm kicking ass. In fact, I kicked someone's ass on the bus this morning and when they turned to look at me I was like, "what?". I had also emailed my running instructor to tell him I was "under the weather" and that I wouldn't likely make it. He emailed back that he wanted me to come because he wanted to get photos of everyone. He said I should wear matching underwear and meet him at his apartment at 9pm, which I found strange. And also appealing, apparently. I went. He took a group photo. I got tricked into running a 10k when it was only supposed to be 8k (I made the mistake of following some really athletic people: bastards). My French Canadian future lover wasn't there. I bet he's got all kinds of staying power.
Frick.

I'm a shit

Worked today. Came home and ran 7k. Hopped in the shower and met up with H. He seemed pretty happy to see me. He's a nice guy. He's quite attractive and very smart. Great sense of humour. Okay, then we went for a walk and I ended it with him. It took me about an hour to get up the nerve to do it. It was awful. I hope it was more awful for me than it was for him. It's like you're rejecting someone's personality. You're rejecting them. It's horrid. I know: I've been rejected. He was very good about it. He said that he had been having a really good time and that he was disappointed. I was too mortified to talk for a very long period of time. I hope he meets someone that makes him happy. I actually hope that we can end up being friends, but I don't think that I have a right to ask him for that.
In other news, I'm considering Catholicism, since I have a terrific guilt complex. I'm looking forward to visiting JupiterGirl in Victoria over the weekend. I'm kind of looking forward to getting razzed by my fellow runners in my group on Thursday. I'm really looking forward to having a couple of beer's at A's dragonboat charity at Bimini's on Friday.
Mostly though? I'm looking forward to doing my own thing for a while. And if H can eventually forgive me and we can be friends, then that would be the icing on this girl's cake.

I did it: it's done

Wow, I can't believe that I haven't blogged since Wednesday. Oh wait, yeah I can: I've been ridiculously busy. Shall I recap? No? Who cares what you think - get your own blog.
Thursday I went to my running clinic and they said, "Are you running the half on Sunday?" to which I said, "Hells, yeah!" and they indicated that I shouldn't be running. I was supposed to be taking it easy and winding down. I went to for an 8k tempo run and did pretty good. Hubert, my French Canadian future lover, asked what time I was looking for at the half and I said an hour fifty, or an hour fifty-five. He looked at me incredulously, as did the guy running the clinic (all because I killed myself on the 8k run, so I looked momentarily good). Hubert figured I could do it in 1:45. I laughed and said that no, I was pretty slow. The prior two years I had clocked in at 1:53 and 1:54. They seemed convinced that I could do 1:45 and some discussion ensued as to whether I would finish in 1:45 and then loiter around just before the finish line to increase my time to prove a point.
Friday H came over and we had some Chinese and I lost at chess. Saturday morning I attempted to impress him with my culinary prowess. I ended up being reprimanded for depressing the plunger on my bodem too quickly after pouring the water in, and for putting water in my (teflon) frying pan after I was done with it, but while it was still hot. It's like I'm dating my mom or something. Hot.
Michael came over later in the afternoon and then we met up with Lor and Big D for dinner at Enigma: fun! Service was a bit spotty, but I enjoyed the food and more importantly I greatly enjoyed the company. I hadn't seen Lor or Big D in a long time and I felt that everyone got along so well together. I kept thinking to myself: I have such awesome friends and then giggling silently, as though it was a secret.
Sunday was tough. We got up at 5:30 for a 7:00am start time. I was so tired. I ran the first 10k with Michael, which I have never done before: he's much faster than me. Then I lost him at a water station. At kilometer 11 I thought I had a small rock in my shoe, agitating the ball of my foot, so I pulled over for my first ever "technical difficulty" during a race. I pulled off my shoe and sock and - no rock! What the? I realized it was something else: perhaps my sock was bunched up and agitating my foot, who knows. Nonetheless, I had another 10k to run and I felt a nice blister developing. Then it started to rain. And not just a bit: it was a torrential frickin' downpour. Water was streaming off my hat. My capris were plastered to my legs and my tank was suctioned to my torso. It was the ultimate wet t-shirt contest. It was raining so hard I could hear people squishing as I ran past. There was one guy that was singing and I contemplated that he might be delirious. I passed him and no, he was quite lucid. And melodic. Okay, good cardio to be able to sing Neil Young's "Heart of Gold" at kilometre 16 of a half marathon.
Before the Burrard Street bridge I had a bit more energy (yay! Gatorade) and I motored over it and started running pretty hard with another lady. We both kept each other going at a nice clip and I flew over the finish line, looked up and saw 1:48. I was quite happy! I knew Michael would have finished, so I looked for him just after the finish line. No Michael. I went and got some water. No Michael. I started to get cold, since my body was cooling and it was still pissing. No Michael. About ten minutes later, bordering on hypothermia I commandeered a garbage bag to try and retain some body heat. Finally found Michael. My body was shaking violently and I think my first words to him were, "Can we go now?". He was also freezing to death and retrieved a garbage bag. We were both too cold to punch arm holes in them, so we walked to the bus in garbage bags, with just our heads poking through. I thought I might die. He was like, "Where were you? I looked for you". I was like, "When? Why didn't you see me?". He said, "I watched for you at about 1:50". I said, totally nonchalant, "Oh yeah, I crossed at 1:48". He got all excited. I have no bigger cheerleader than Michael. It turned out my final chip time was 1:46 and his was 1:41 - so I was only five minutes behind him!! Anyways, we were saved from hypothermia but the kind bus driver that cranked the heat while we shivered noisily in our garbage bags. Michael kept saying the bags were the best idea I had come up with ever. Gee, thanks.
Spent the rest of the day with him. Wandered down Main Street. Had some coffee. Forgot where we parked and became convinced my car had been stolen. Ate and oat and fudge bar.
Went to see H afterwards. We watched Pan's Labyrinth. I spent a lot of time lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling asking "Can I come out now?" due to the graphic violence. Well, I'm assuming it was violent because I didn't actually see it, but heard lots of nasty sounds and screaming. Made tentative plans to see each other later in the week. He seems busy. Maybe he didn't like the way I depressed the bodem plunger. Huh. He should've seen me waterlogged, blue lipped, wearing a garbage bag at 9am this morning. I's dead sexy.

Into everyone's nostril a little bug must fly

Negotiated with the powers that be for a higher salary. Come July 15th I will be working a 35 hour week (7 hour days) and I factored in a 5% raise. I'm pretty happy with that. Better the devil you know, and all that.
Came home and decided to go for a run. After a couple of kilometres a winged bug flew into my right nostril. It wasn't a little bug, either. I was perplexed: how to deal with this strange, ticklish situation? I did something I thought I would never do: plugged my left nostril and blew hard on the right. No bug came out. I did manage to get snot everywhere. This was especially fantastic because I didn't have a Kleenex. So I wiped the snot on my arm. But then I could feel the bug moving around. What the hell was it doing, setting up shop? I glanced around, didn't see anyone ogling me and stuck my finger up my nose. No bug. It must have been seeking higher ground. I could still feel it (or maybe I simply thought I could feel it). It was driving me mad. I had planned to do an 11km run and this damn bug hadn't paid his $2.25. What to do? I crushed my right nostril, thinking if it was dead maybe it would be less aggravating. Okay. Finished the run, came home and immediately blew my nose. No bug! Michael says it's crawled into my brain to lay eggs.
Running is dead sexy. See picture of toe in prior blog.

The fawning has started

Today I got an email from H expressing what a great time he had with me this weekend. It begins. I smiled a small, secret smile. My day got even better when the hot SPCA guy pulled an Earl Grey tea packet out for me, in anticipation of my tea needs. And yes, he is in a relationship. With a girl at the SPCA. Who has cute hair and great fashion sense. Damnit. I knew my Sears brand t-shirts weren't up to muster.

On the job front: one offer is gone - it was only for two or three days a week. I need to eat! And now that I'm running five days a week (okay, okay, so far only four) I need to eat a lot! The other job offer will be put forth in writing tomorrow, so I shall mull it over. It will be sad to leave my current job. I love my coworkers - they're essentially the reason that I go to work. They think all the boys that don't want to date me are dumb, and they get all excited when I wear my boots to work. It makes a girl feel saucy.

Returned from the SPCA and subjected myself to a 19k run out to UBC and back. Kick ass. My toe is doing quite a bit better as you can tell (clearly) from the photo. Um, a key point would be to EAT something substantial before embarking on this. At kilometre 16 I considered walking the rest of the way, and possibly selling myself for some Gatorade or a Powerbar, but I pulled through. Boo yeah. Then I came home and made a gigantic hamburger resplendent with onions, cheese and avocado. Yes! Avocado. It. Was. So. Good.

Then I talked to Michael for a bit and told him how the landlords had painted the doors in the common areas. The doors are quite cool: they are wood with opaque glass (the kind that shows up as the entrance to some private dick's office in the 40's). So they painted the wood. I hate when people do that. Debbie Travis paints all wood white. So I'm talking to Michael and I'm saying "you know how I feel about wood" and he's half asleep going, "uh huh" and I'm determined and I say forcefully "I love wood!". It was funny. Made funnier by the glass of wine I've had.

And, to return to the fawning story: I got a phone call from H! The guy that does not make phone calls. He was drunk, though if he had not confessed this to me, I would not have been able to discern it. He was very articulate. The thing that was a bit off? He seemed pretty happy. I think he may be a closet optimist. Yeah, he was bordering on chatty. It was so freakin' hilarious. And he was so agreeable: what day did I want to get together? He (carless) would come and see me because he wanted to make sure the travelling was equitable. This from the guy that told me that life was "bearable" on Saturday night. Methinks he secretly wants to hold my hand and skip along the beach with yours truly. He wants a re-match, so I am going to pay a visit to him tomorrow night. I assume he meant a re-match at chess...

Not sleeping (and having cake for lunch) is awesome

I went for my run Saturday. Suck it. I did not, however, go for my run today. This would be because I got about two hours sleep last night. Yes, allow me to recap.
Saturday I slept in rather late. Went for the aforementioned run, had a couple of very lengthy conversations with Michael and my dad. Then H came over. We chatted a bit, ordered dinner, had some really great wine. Then I beat him at chess. Yeah, I'm a sore winner. You have your Masters in what? What's the meaning of life now, bitch?? Kidding. Sort of. I was pretty proud of myself given that had I had lost THREE online chess games and they had been set to "easy". Insert joke about my sexual repertoire here.
So after a while I make the offer: did he want to stay over. He replies that that would be lovely, but that he had forgotten condoms when he left his place. Great. It's 11:20 on a Saturday night. I said we could postpone it... yeah, what was I thinking. Is there a man on the planet that is going to postpone sex? The Shoppers on Dunbar was open late, so we went there. He came back with condoms, but more importantly: winegums.
Yadda yadda yadda... Greek men are hot and he's been well schooled. And takes suggestions to heart. And doesn't snore. And has really cool hair.
Nonetheless, I did not sleep well last night. It's hard when your bed is "empty" for so long and then someone is in it. He didn't do anything like hog the bed or fidget, but I still had a hard time fitting in some z's. I had this crazy dream about my brother in which he did something that made me laugh my ass off. I guess I had dozed off at this point, but the hilarity in my dream had reached epic levels and I started laughing in my sleep. At which point H thought I was awake and inquired what was so funny. Thereby waking me up again. Damnit.
Greek men are also fun to wake up to.
At noon we went to Starbucks for some coffee and breakfast. I dropped him off at work and went to see Michael who seemed to know intuitively that I had had a sleepover. I really love talking about my romantic life with my ex of six years. No awkwardness there at all. I had cake for lunch. I have no idea why he continues to be my friend.
Came home, decided I was too exhausted to go for a run. The half marathon that I have to run in ONE WEEK is going to kill me, let alone the full marathon. This training shit really cuts into my drinking, eating and sex life. I need to multitask and find a way to eat, drink and have sex simultaneously and still get to bed by 9.
Went over to H's place around 7. We watched some Britcoms. I love the Brits. They have horrible teeth, but are really fucking funny. The offer to stay over was extended. I declined. I have a blog to write, and I can't handle another night of not sleeping.
We'll see. I'm STILL on the fence. I guess I'm kind of accustomed to being fawned over more. H isn't a big fawner. Fawn, damnit. I'm not emailing or calling him. Flock to me. And if you don't flock, so be it. I can download Britcoms all on my own. I can do a lot of things all on my own.
Now I'm going to go to sleep. On my own.

I'm gonna hurt tomorrow

Today. Yeah, started at freakin' 7am thanks to the asshole powerwashers across the street. Why in the shit goddamn Jesus hell does something like this always happen when I book a day off? Assholes! At 8am I drag my ass out of bed and start about getting ready for my interview at 10am. They love me. What's not to love?
Then I went to get some new running shoes, since the ones I currently have don't accommodate my overweight toes. I actually removed my shoes, showed the guy at the Running Room my gangrenous and infected baby toe and said, "I'm looking for a shoe that can help to alleviate this particular situation". After he finished vomiting into a waste basket and trying to convince me to go see a specialist, he helped me pick out some shoes.
I was excited about the shoe purchase. I fully planned to go home, have some lunch and get in a 10k. Instead I napped. That was cool, too.
Then I met up with Po and N at the Cat's Meow on Granville Island. We proceeded to the Backstage Lounge for the CD release party of SuperTonic and I got to meet one of N's POF guys: super nice fella. The music.... hmmmm... it was, at various points, similar to Matchbox 20 and other rock/pop acts that I've heard. The music was tight, the guitarist was very adept and the singer was awesome on the african drums, but it was a bit whitebread. Sorry, I had to come out and say it. It was a bit vanilla and banal for me. For what it was, it was very well done and I really enjoyed the cougars in the tight pants that threw their underwear on stage and gyrated in a fashion that made me feel old. I also liked the guy that looked like Napoleon Dynamite who engaged in a dance-off with a muffin-top girl whereby they mimicked starting a pull lawnmower. Um, am I uptight?
But it was fun. I love hearing live music: I think it's my new bag. I recommend SuperTonic to anyone that is a big rock/pop fan: they put on a great show and were really into their craft. When I left, shortly after midnight, the singer was having a really in depth conversation with a couple of girls in their early twenties who were likely asking him for bongo lessons. Cough.
The reality of the whole situation is that it's closing in on 1am. I have to run on Saturday and Sunday because I didn't run today. Tomorrow's run is going to suck ass. I think I may puke somewhere along the route.
H is coming over for dinner and chess at 6. So there's that to consider. I've decided to shave my legs.

Today is my Friday

That's right, folks, this kid is not going into work tomorrow. I need a bit of a breather. From what, I'm not sure. I love the way my weeks start: wide open, no plans, all the time in the world, and then by the end of the week the dishes are piling up, I'm overdue calling my parents, I'm trying to fit my social schedule together like some frenetic puzzle. But this is how I like it! Idle hands and all that.
So tonight is my first running clinic meeting. The post on the website said to bring a change of clothes as hopefully we could all go out for a beer after and get to know each other better. Damn social, friendly, fit people! I will have nothing in common with them. Bah. I have a big zit which will prohibit me from being social tonight, unfortunately. What's with being 30 and having acne? I would actually give up a finger (not a thumb, though) to have perfect skin. Is that wrong? I'll probably be relegated to the group which is comprised of the individual whose sex is indeterminate, the middle aged cat lady and the guy who continued to pin his mittens onto his jacket into his teens. I won't be allowed to talk to the "cool kids" who will hang out and smoke. Okay, maybe they won't smoke they'll... do pilates and share Gatorade together or something. Elitists.
Last night I went over to H's to watch "My Dinner with Andre". I wanted to get his take on it, and as usual we started to discuss it, veering off on all manner of tangents and I got home after 11. We had wine gums. He told me about how, as a child, he had grabbed his mother's iron and ironed his hand. I asked what had prompted him to do that. He replied that likely his hand had been wrinkled. It was kind of funny.
I can't commit to today's blog. I'm tired and hungry. Sleeping in a bit tomorrow. Looking forward to the weekend! Going for dinner and a night on the town with Po and N tomorrow night and it should be fun. I am lucky to have such nice friends.

Ahhhhh!

Goodbye, Facebook, and good riddance. Like I need to belong to another internet site. I am sad that I never uploaded a picture of my robots holding hands at work, and of my toe that has been totally decimated from running too much with shoes that don't seem to fit exactly right. Where do I carry my excess weight, you ask? Clearly in my toes. The fat bastards. My father even exclaimed once "Look at those chubby things!". Thanks Dad. He also touched my brother on the top of the head with a wand once and said, "Poof, you're a pile of shit", so I've learned to take a lot of what he says with a grain of salt.
In other news. Two job opportunities on the go. We'll see what pans out.
I'm running lots, in training for the Okanagan International Marathon in October. I have to run five times a week. Five is a lot. Heretofore if I had squeezed in three workouts a week I was a happy camper. My first running clinic is tomorrow and I am afraid that I will be the slowest and ugliest of the lot (it's being held in Kits: land of the beautiful, fit people). I suppose I should start shaving my legs.
Lastly, I feel like I have something stuck in my eye, so I keep jabbing my finger into it. That is definitely making the situation better. I will likely be blind in one eye by noon.

Who's been sitting in my chair?

Stayed up too late last night drinking wine, eating hummus and listening to all my cool new music. Did you know Sister Hazel has a new album? I downloaded it for $9.99. iTunes is like crack. So is Facebook. I hate Facebook and am contemplating taking my profile down. Wanna see pictures of me? Come over and I'll show you. Wanna see the hole in my wall? Join me for beers. Wanna meet my family? Let's go over there for dinner.
Went to the SPCA today. Did I mention there is a really hot guy there? And that he plays ultimate Frisbee? And that he's tall, blonde and kind of lanky? And I picture him in an old university t-shirt and boxers a lot? He has his Masters of something... I don't know, I just stare at his mouth when he talks to me. Then I turn red and say things like "I like cake". It's pretty awesome. He said to me today, "How are you doing?" and I said, "good". That's a real nice conversation facilitator there. I could have said any number of things such as, "I'm good, how are you?" or "how was your weekend?" or "take me in the kitchen". Even "I like cake" would've been better. He's on Crackbook. He has like 238 friends or something. I'm guessing he's got a girlfriend. Or a queue of girlfriends. Ah, cake...
Came home to see that my holes have been filled. Finally! It was only what, a month? At first blush it appeared that they had done a pretty decent job cleaning up, but then I discovered little chunks of drywall on my kitchen floor. Plus, there is now a fine layer of drywall dust on everything. The really weird bit? I had some barrettes and a comb and a magazine on the counter in my bathroom. They had been moved because it looked like someone had tried to wipe down the bathroom counter, but effectively smeared wet drywall dust everywhere. There were splatters on the mirror. The taps were filthy. So I'm poking around, getting out my black light and trying to recreate the scene like I'm on CSI or something. My best guess is that, after fixing the holes, he/they "cleaned up" in my bathroom, shaking dust everywhere. Then they tried to clean the bathroom, which resulted in a nice, white paste all over my counter tops. The real kicker? Some of my underwear has been stretched out and I'm missing a garter belt. Oh yeah, and there is a strange man hiding in my closet with a video camera.
Sleepy now. I think I shall retire to the boudoir.

Hodge podge

I was really tired on Friday and went to bed shortly after 11 after going to the gym. The highlight of my evening was when I went to Subway. I don't go there very often. It was really great. The fellow that made my sandwich had some issues with enunciation. The sub-making process went like this:

Subway guy: "Would you like to get toasted?"

Duder: "What?"

Subway guy: "Would you like it toasted?"

Duder: "Uh... yeah."

Subway guy: "Are you easy?"

Duder: "I'm sorry, what?"

Subway guy: "Did you want cheese?"

Duder: "Yes please."

Subway guy: "Do you feel that you have reached a point in your life where you are stagnating, and are simply spinning your proverbial wheels, waiting for your life to unfold and offer up its secrets to you?"
Duder (starting to cry): "What?!?"
Subway guy: "What else do you want on it."

Duder (sniffling): "Everything except for the hot peppers."

Subway guy: "Carrots?"

Duder: "Carrots? What are you... oh, you guys have shredded carrots now. No, no carrots. I'll have some chips though."

Saturday morning I had coffee with Big D whom I had not seen for a very long time. He admired the holes in my drywall. It rained pretty hard. I almost snorted cappuccino out of my nose when a woman, running to get out of the rain, kind of ran into the door of the coffee shop. She had attempted a run/push the door open combo which went horribly awry because you have to pull the door to open it. The expression on her face was the human equivalent of what sparrows must look like when the collide with newly windexed glass. I guess I was an asshole to laugh, but it was pretty funny.

Michael came over later in the afternoon, and we watched Shaun of the Dead, which he hadn't yet seen. That's some funny shit. He also brought me treats, so he is currently my favourite person in the world. Then we went and met up with A, JupiterGirl and her new beau. Let's find a nickname for him. Let's call him... Salty. I was very happy to meet Salty: he was friendly, easy going, had a good sense of humor and seemed very relaxed. Michael liked him too.

It was great to JupiterGirl again; I hadn't seen her since she moved to the Island at the end of April. She looked good: tanned, kind of hippyish. She indicated that the "beeping" was getting to her. I said that I can't fall asleep at night unless I hear a car alarm going off, someone drag racing down 41st and the rustle of money being counted over in Shaughnessy. Then I dropped Michael off at the seabus, tried to watch MadTV, but decided sleep was more interesting.

Today! Brunch with N and Po. N is dating up a storm: I think she has one appointment every hour or something. I was exhausted just hearing about all the dates she has lined up. Po is in the fun dating limbo known as I-assumed-that-our-relationship-had-reached-a-point-whereby-it-was-felt-by-both-of-us-that-it-was-exclusive-so-why-do-you-still-have-an-online-dating-profile-up, and she's debating how to proceed. Because she is a rational, calm person I am sure she will deal with it in a rational, calm manner. My suggestion was to send strangely cryptic emails to him, whereby the problem becomes confusing and exacerbated and ultimately no one will know what the hell is going on. You know, because that's a fun thing to do.

Then I went home. Michael terrified me by regaling me with his first running clinic experience (my clinic starts on Thursday). He had been under the impression that they would be doing an 8km run. That impression was wrong: it was an 8 mile run, so like 13km or so. And he said that he was in the slow group. Well shit. He's significantly faster than I am. Maybe they'll just watch me run with my little egg-beater legs and, at the end of the run when they're all loitering at the finish line, waiting for me to cross with my little arms pumping like pistons and they'll hand me my money back and say, "You're too slow to run with the big dogs".

Then I went to Pier 1 and bought a little desk and chair because my laptop set up was, er, retarded to say the least. Now it's less so. Now it's like a normal human girl lives here. With her holes.

The UK, in pajamas

Got up at 5:30 so I could make a call to one of our UK clients. It's fun to talk business in pajamas.
I'm peeling.
H is growing on me.
My coworker volunteered to show up when H and I are having coffee at some point and say, "How could you! We've been going out six months and this is how you treat me?". I politely declined, though I may file for future reference.
I put a little bit of onion in my sandwich and I have really bad breath now.

Shuffle

I bought an iPod Shuffle. It is really tiny and it clips to your clothing and it can hold 240 songs. I know this to be true, because I put approximately 200 songs on it last night. You know what would be funny? Clipping it to someone’s genitals. Perhaps my upstairs neighbor would make a good candidate.
What else is shaking. Oh! Man, they are starting to reno our building! I came home last night to find they had painted all the hallways. Plus they have installed a couple of nice light fixtures in the entrance to the building, which is a welcome change to the freakin’ hole that had been punched there to work the electrical through to illuminate the nice FLOURESCENT TUBE with no covering. That was class. They still haven’t fixed the hole in my wall yet, and I’m actually starting to forget it exists. It’s amazing what you can get used to. I didn’t think I would so quickly becoming blasé about a three foot by six foot hole showcasing copper piping and a stud.
Not a lot on the go right now. JupiterGirl is coming to down this weekend so I get to see her: it’s been like six weeks since I’ve seen her! Plus she is bringing her man, so I get to meet him which I’m pretty excited about. I can just see it now. Him, “so, you’re the neurotic blogger whose life is in shambles”. Me, “yes! It’s so nice to meet you!”.
Had an interesting chat with Po about when to broach the exclusivity subject in a relationship, and how long is appropriate to wait before having sex. It’s like preparing for battle. The womenfolk are huddled and furtively whispering about which date night will be THE date night and the men are out swilling beer with their compatriots bellowing about the frigidity of the women. Somehow we are supposed to walk a line between virgin and whore, casual dating and exclusivity, monogamy and polygamy, lust and intimacy. Not an easy task.
On the subject of tasks that are not facile: I am having sushi with H tonight. I will not make any claim about anything. I have no idea what is going to happen. My head hurts. I have too many questions. I do think that the fact that it will be sixth time that we have gotten together and it has already reached a level of utter consternation is telling. That, plus my surprise that he’s never attempted to hold my hand while being somewhat unsure as to why we didn’t sleep together on Friday night. It’s not a line in the sand, it’s a trench. Moreover, the whole thing is exhausting and it cuts into my lying-on-the-floor-listening-to-music-while-drinking-Spanish-red-wine-and-eating-crackers-and-hummus-time. That’s my favorite time.

Paring down

I know you all want to know what happened with my upstairs neighbour. But you must first bear with me as I take you through my weekend in chronological order. The psychiatrist in "Until I Find You" made the main character recap his recollections that way, and I like John Irving, so we're going to do it that way.
Friday was okay. I was destined to see H but was feeling rather ambivalent about it. I decided that I would break it off and decided to ask a couple of (male) coworkers (one engaged, one single) as to how I should do this. I don't know what the hell I was thinking asking these particular gentlemen, because here is a brief synopsis of our conversation:
Duder: "Um, I'm really not feeling it. I'd like to break it off, but I'm not really good at that kind of thing."
M: "Text him."
Duder: "What? I'm not texting someone to tell them I no longer want to see them."
M: "Why?"
Duder: "What? What? Have you texted someone that you didn't want to see them again? That's horrific!"
M: "That, or email."
Duder: "Jesus Christ. You're an ass."
C: "Tell him you're married."
Duder: "I'm not going to lie. I think you should treat people the way that you feel you ought to be treated."
C: "Tell him you've got to get home to your kids."
Duder: stunned silence
M: "Just text him, what's the worst that can happen? He calls you?"
Duder: "Uh, no. The worst that can happen is that I become someone that dumps people via text."
This conversation continued endlessly, whereupon we returned to the office and M skyped me, asking if I had come up with a good text to send to H yet. I replied that I would not text H. I typed, "you text him" to which M replied "give me his number". I love, I mean I utterly love my coworkers. They are such sodding bastards, and yet they hold the door open for me, nicknamed me "Boots" (because of my black leather boots, which are totally not as sexy as that sounds), and offer to break up with men for me via text.
So Friday I go to "The Improvised Works of William Shakespeare" with H. We have a good time. We go back to his place, make out a little. I think okay, maybe this is alright after all. Maybe I can have a nice little summer romance with this guy. We like to do the same things, we both over analyze this shit out of everything, we love to debate, he's kind of attractive. Sure, why not. As I go to leave he says, "you know you don't have to go". Yeah, well, it's our fourth date so I'm gonna keep my panties on. I go home.
The next day I go to the park, read my book and get burnt. Summer ritual No. 1 complete. Still waiting for word from my neighbour as to dinner on Sunday, but none is forthcoming. I do, however, receive an email from H expressing consternation that I hadn't put out on Friday night. What? It was our fourth date. We didn't even kiss until our third date. I had an animated debate with my good friend C about this tonight. His take? Some guys are going to angle for sex early on, and there's nothing necessarily wrong with that. Okay, I agree with him, but come on. Those of you that know me, which is the more likely scenario on a fourth date with yours truly: I get nekkid for you; I punch you in the eye when you try and put your hand down my pants. I do NOT give out the "I am easy" vibe. I give out the "I will crush your spine" vibe.
Saturday night I go out with Po, R and N to Section 3 in Yaletown for Po's 31st birthday. Yummy food. Then we go to Moxie's where I had the most delectable dessert ever. It was this banana thing in pastry with sugar and cinnamon and caramel and vanilla ice cream. Who needs men? I'm just going to eat good food, jerk off and drink nice wine. Oh wait. I should put that at the end of this blog. At this point I was still in a pretty good mood. Po decides to ask her new beau out to the media club and he says he'll come out. N and I were beside ourselves. I could hardly wait to meet this guy. I figure, why not text H. He says he's still at work, but will try and make it. We go to the Media Club, predominately to see "The Grange", but I was blown away by the preceding band "Race Against the Wind". A fucking plus. I was having a good time listening to the country/bluegrass/rock music. Who knew? The beer helped. Po's beau showed. I likee. He was attractive, funny, engaging and made a concerted effort to endear himself to myself and N. I give him two big thumbs up. He was funny, easy going and... does he have single friends???
H showed up whilst I was in the washroom admiring my burn. I drank more. I danced to a Johnny Cash tune. H and I discussed further the implications of sex on the fourth date. Having spoken to C about it, I realize perhaps I shouldn't get so uptight. A lot of guys are going to try and have sex on the fourth date. And, as he so aptly pointed out, how long did I wait before I jumped in the sack with B? Okay, maybe no so long. But it didn't work out, and I am kind of striving to avoid yet another relationship that doesn't work out.
Okay, so I go home alone. Again.
Sunday. More burning at the park. Waiting, waiting for my neighbour to call. Nothing. I return from the park and his vehicle is gone from the parking stall. I am aghast. I do not want to toot my own horn, but if I was a middle-aged guy that had asked a relatively hot, fit, thirty year old blonde to have dinner with me, and she said yes, I would make sure to follow up on that shit. But no, not this guy. My mom said "maybe he's gay". I don't think so. So at 4:30 I... call Michael. I'm such a shit. I go over to North Van, have a great meal and fantastic time with him. He makes fun of my sunburn, calls me on my shit, buys me dinner, asks me to stay for a movie and gives me a foot rub. I love this man. We had a good laugh because he had bought an iPod Shuffle and there was some music that I had downloaded on one of his computers, which he transferred to his Shuffle. He was like, "uh, are you a big Kanye West fan? Show me your diamonds. Diamonds in the sky,". I clearly laid out that the songs were upbeat and were strictly for running purposes only. Beyonce. Madonna. How did they get there?
So. To recap. I'm in trouble for not having sex on the fourth date. The guy I though was a shoe-in hasn't called. Okay. I give up. C said, "so what do you think you're doing wrong?" and I said I didn't think I was doing anything wrong. I think I'm a pretty decent person. I'm nice. I'm smart. I'm funny.... looking. Maybe I don't run so fast, and sometimes I drink too much and talk smack, but overall I think I'm okay. He concurred, which made me feel pretty good. He also offered to go knock on my neighbour's door and ask him why he hadn't invited me over for dinner, which I adamantly declined but secretly wanted him to go through with.
So that was my weekend. I had a super time on Saturday night with Po and N. I loved the music and I didn't anticipate that I would've loved it, let alone gotten up and danced to it. I had a great time with Michael, which I always do. I felt buoyed and appreciated when C left tonight. I'm getting used to being single. It is what it is. I'm not going to put out on the fourth date. Nor am I going to feel bad about it. When H and the neighbour fizzle I will have no prospects and I'm cool with that. I've got shit going on. I've got books to read, music to download, friends to see, sushi to eat, marathons to run.
I'm good.