I am practicing sarcasm.
Wallace interrupted me in the middle of what to that point had been a very spectacular golf game last night to feel me out on a set up. It didn't ruin my golf game - I shot a 62, which for me is a pretty good game, but whenever I answer a text on the golf course I lose my mojo. My first four holes had been fantastic - my last five were merely ok. I should just leave my phone in the Jeep from now on.
Anyway, point of the story is that I jabbered a bit online to some people about the insanity that is blind dating. Blind date stories are almost always hilarious - after the fact. During an awful blind date all that goes through your mind is that it can't possibly be happening the way you think it is. On any blind date I have ever had I have always sat there thinking that maybe they just have a strange sense of humor that I am just not understanding. I have never had one turn out with a good ending, but mainly they were just boring and slightly weird. One, however, has a leg up on the others in the crazy competition - we will call him Jason. I started to write the whole story out, but it made this blog entry more like a horror novella, so I am just going to bullet point the timeline:
- I agree to meet Jason for dinner, we speak on the phone for about five minutes to finalize plans. This is the ONLY contact we have had outside of a few emails.
- Jason's sister calls me (she took my # of his cell) to ask me my INTENTIONS with her brother. She then proceeds to give me a detailed dating history to explain why Jason needs her to look out for him. I try and be polite and optimistically think maybe his sister is just crazy, but this does not bode well for our date.
- An hour later she calls me back to ask me where he is - she thinks he is missing AND ASKS ME TO COME HELP HER FIND HIM! Are you serious? I have never seen this guy in person and you want me to locate him? At this point I call him and he doesn't answer so I am pretty much writing him off now.
- The next day Jason calls me, says he was up north out of cell service, and apologizes profusely for his sister. He is on his way to see me already or I wouldn't have gone out. I shouldn't have anyway.
- We go out to eat. I pay and he doesn't even offer to contribute. We go to a softball game. I drive. He brings his cell phone charger in MY Jeep and plugs it in so he can text all the way down to the fields! He wants to go out after, but I drop him at his car and go home.
You would think that would have been the end of it, but when I get home he calls me to tell me he left his phone charger in my car so he wants to get together again to get it. I find it UNDER the passenger seat, obviously planted, and tell him I will just mail it to him. He AND his sister call me incessantly for a few days - which I ignore. I never had to speak to him again - and he never got his charger back.
I figure that with this story behind me, any blind date in my future can't possibly be any worse. Of course, I probably just completely jinxed myself and Ben's friend is going to end up speaking gibberish and having a crazy toe fetish....which, upon reflection, I guess is still better than crazy Jason and his sister~
Showing posts with label Wallace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wallace. Show all posts
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Congrats to Wallace and Fiona~
Today, a little after midnight, our heroine's baby brother Wallace and his pretty new wife Fiona had their own baby boy. He is not even twenty four hours old and I am here to report that he is going to be a serious heartbreaker. He is, in a word, spectacular.
New babies always make me incredibly happy and incredibly jaded at the very same time. I have a niece through my marriage to Brad and two of my brothers have each given me a nephew. There is one more gender-fuzzy child in utero, to be making his/her debut in December. (I was not lying when I said my crazy, circus family was in expansion mode.) During all my time with said children and during all the fun baby events and hoopla - I am, for the most part, thrilled to be in that moment. Going home to a child free house at the end of all such hoopla - I am, about half of the time, frustrated at my own lack of prodigy.
I am not a career-minded individual. I have never dreamed of advancement and fulfillment through a job. I worked hard at whatever I did, believing that it would help get me to the point in my life where I could focus on what I thought was most important - starting and raising a family of my own. At the hospital last night while we waited for the appearance of our newest nephew, Lola and I were talking with a few other people about how it takes all kinds to make up the world; about how perfect it is that there are some people that feel a calling for working with the eldery or teaching or management or whatever - because then everyone that follows their passion plays a vital role in our world. I have always felt like my passions in life are all secondary to having the kind of family that I was raised in. I want to create that kind of enviroment for myself and my future kids.
The issue with this is that it is not something I can make happen on my own. Which frustrates me to no end. In life, for the most part, I have been able to achieve whatever I want. I am not afraid of working hard, I learn quickly, and I am willing to put in the effort to get where I want to go. Over the years this has earned me success in my career and in my lifestyle. If something is firmly in my control, then I can make it happen. Families and relationships are not like that. It was a hard lesson to learn when I was with Brad. It didn't matter how hard I worked, how much effort I put in - my marriage couldn't be fixed by myself alone. Having kids is a very similar kind of adventure.
Could I raise a family on my own? Probably. Do I want to? Not really. But the older I get the less I am willing to wait for someone that I think is worth building a family with. I feel like every birthday that passes I stop and evaluate the delicate balance of my life and whether I am ready to risk doing it all along and forever changing the course of my life- or if I should just be patient.
Time shall tell....
New babies always make me incredibly happy and incredibly jaded at the very same time. I have a niece through my marriage to Brad and two of my brothers have each given me a nephew. There is one more gender-fuzzy child in utero, to be making his/her debut in December. (I was not lying when I said my crazy, circus family was in expansion mode.) During all my time with said children and during all the fun baby events and hoopla - I am, for the most part, thrilled to be in that moment. Going home to a child free house at the end of all such hoopla - I am, about half of the time, frustrated at my own lack of prodigy.
I am not a career-minded individual. I have never dreamed of advancement and fulfillment through a job. I worked hard at whatever I did, believing that it would help get me to the point in my life where I could focus on what I thought was most important - starting and raising a family of my own. At the hospital last night while we waited for the appearance of our newest nephew, Lola and I were talking with a few other people about how it takes all kinds to make up the world; about how perfect it is that there are some people that feel a calling for working with the eldery or teaching or management or whatever - because then everyone that follows their passion plays a vital role in our world. I have always felt like my passions in life are all secondary to having the kind of family that I was raised in. I want to create that kind of enviroment for myself and my future kids.
The issue with this is that it is not something I can make happen on my own. Which frustrates me to no end. In life, for the most part, I have been able to achieve whatever I want. I am not afraid of working hard, I learn quickly, and I am willing to put in the effort to get where I want to go. Over the years this has earned me success in my career and in my lifestyle. If something is firmly in my control, then I can make it happen. Families and relationships are not like that. It was a hard lesson to learn when I was with Brad. It didn't matter how hard I worked, how much effort I put in - my marriage couldn't be fixed by myself alone. Having kids is a very similar kind of adventure.
Could I raise a family on my own? Probably. Do I want to? Not really. But the older I get the less I am willing to wait for someone that I think is worth building a family with. I feel like every birthday that passes I stop and evaluate the delicate balance of my life and whether I am ready to risk doing it all along and forever changing the course of my life- or if I should just be patient.
Time shall tell....
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Drunk Dialing~
It is almost one in the morning, which isn't surprising because I frequently blog late at night. I have had half a bottle of a pretty satisfying pinot noir, plenty of crunchy French bread (for absorption purposes), and a handful of Double Stuff Oreos - which is pretty much the only way to go anymore. They should just take those ordinary stuffed ones right off the shelf.
Right now the people that know me best are probably reading this through their fingers like when you watch a scary movie - afraid to watch it straight on, but unable to look away. They can see the signs that point to disaster in my world, namely wine and being up by myself at one in the morning. Typically, I make some bad decisions in these situations. Even more so now that technology lets me instantly connect to anyone, at anytime. It is like drunk dialing without all the hassle of making my wine-weighted fingers work that complicated cell phone touch screen. And my lucky recipients can't talk back or hang up. Genius. Damn you Facebook, I love you.
In the past, I have been a prolific drunk dialer. I am a chatty drinker to begin with, so that does not work in my favor. When everyone else that I am drinking with falls asleep or passes out - I am forced to go in search of someone else to listen to me prattle. Typically this is a sober person that I wake up and then say "oh? you are awake? Great!" I am also a drunk dialer whore - I will call anyone. I don't limit myself to ex's or significant others. Siblings, friends, strangers on a drinking buddy's phone...all fair game. As long as this person isn't an ex, I am usually forgiven and listened to. As a rule, ex's are less than thrilled. Also, if it is early enough in the evening and I call my mom - she will yell at me and then call me at an obscene hour the next morning purely to set off a hangover headache.
Even with all of this however, I don't hold the record as the worst drunk dialer of my acquaintance. That title goes to Wallace, who we all learned recently was married in Vegas. Well, back before he knew his bride - he liked to drink vodka at my house back when I was married to Brad. Brad found it hysterical to get Wallace all liquored up - primarily because Wallace is a very big guy and when he drinks he falls into and over EVERYTHING. (I stopped letting them play in the house when he fell ON my coffee table and crushed it.) The all time favorite drunk dial involved Wallace calling one of our sisters, thinking he got her voice mail, and talking for about three quarters of an hour about God was cursing him because he wasn't 'getting any'. I will forever have a mental picture of Wallace sitting drunk in my recliner, pointing at the ceiling and telling God if he really loved him, then he would give him some 'tail'. I have never been prouder as a big sister.
So all the signs would seem to suggest that tonight I was setting myself up for a memory that I would rather not make - because let's face it - those phone conversations never go the way you want them to go. Chet wasn't going to hear me on the phone with a wine slur and instantly think I was so much more attractive. Or read an email that liquor logic put together and think I was so much smarter. And tomorrow morning I would not be proud of myself for speaking my sloshed mind and being open and honest about all my feelings. However, perhaps due to my increasing maturity or maybe just because I have seen how this plays out a time or two now, tonight I wisely enlisted the help of my sisters to keep me off my phone and I am forcing you to read my online ramblings - thus saving me the morning after mortification on both fronts. So my pride thanks you for your unwitting and unwilling participation. Also, my apologies to my mother - who is going to be less than thrilled to read about Wallace's drunk dial. Now, I am off to bed....as soon as I add more bread to my grocery list~
Right now the people that know me best are probably reading this through their fingers like when you watch a scary movie - afraid to watch it straight on, but unable to look away. They can see the signs that point to disaster in my world, namely wine and being up by myself at one in the morning. Typically, I make some bad decisions in these situations. Even more so now that technology lets me instantly connect to anyone, at anytime. It is like drunk dialing without all the hassle of making my wine-weighted fingers work that complicated cell phone touch screen. And my lucky recipients can't talk back or hang up. Genius. Damn you Facebook, I love you.
In the past, I have been a prolific drunk dialer. I am a chatty drinker to begin with, so that does not work in my favor. When everyone else that I am drinking with falls asleep or passes out - I am forced to go in search of someone else to listen to me prattle. Typically this is a sober person that I wake up and then say "oh? you are awake? Great!" I am also a drunk dialer whore - I will call anyone. I don't limit myself to ex's or significant others. Siblings, friends, strangers on a drinking buddy's phone...all fair game. As long as this person isn't an ex, I am usually forgiven and listened to. As a rule, ex's are less than thrilled. Also, if it is early enough in the evening and I call my mom - she will yell at me and then call me at an obscene hour the next morning purely to set off a hangover headache.
Even with all of this however, I don't hold the record as the worst drunk dialer of my acquaintance. That title goes to Wallace, who we all learned recently was married in Vegas. Well, back before he knew his bride - he liked to drink vodka at my house back when I was married to Brad. Brad found it hysterical to get Wallace all liquored up - primarily because Wallace is a very big guy and when he drinks he falls into and over EVERYTHING. (I stopped letting them play in the house when he fell ON my coffee table and crushed it.) The all time favorite drunk dial involved Wallace calling one of our sisters, thinking he got her voice mail, and talking for about three quarters of an hour about God was cursing him because he wasn't 'getting any'. I will forever have a mental picture of Wallace sitting drunk in my recliner, pointing at the ceiling and telling God if he really loved him, then he would give him some 'tail'. I have never been prouder as a big sister.
So all the signs would seem to suggest that tonight I was setting myself up for a memory that I would rather not make - because let's face it - those phone conversations never go the way you want them to go. Chet wasn't going to hear me on the phone with a wine slur and instantly think I was so much more attractive. Or read an email that liquor logic put together and think I was so much smarter. And tomorrow morning I would not be proud of myself for speaking my sloshed mind and being open and honest about all my feelings. However, perhaps due to my increasing maturity or maybe just because I have seen how this plays out a time or two now, tonight I wisely enlisted the help of my sisters to keep me off my phone and I am forcing you to read my online ramblings - thus saving me the morning after mortification on both fronts. So my pride thanks you for your unwitting and unwilling participation. Also, my apologies to my mother - who is going to be less than thrilled to read about Wallace's drunk dial. Now, I am off to bed....as soon as I add more bread to my grocery list~
Friday, May 14, 2010
Peeing With the Door Open~
I think it is inevitable that after a breakup you tend to indulge in postmortem analysis of everything the came and went during your relationship. You get pissed all over again at all the slights and faults of your partner. You think about all the sweet, quiet moments that you don't get to have again and grieve. You play the 'what if' game and try and second guess your actions and wonder if any other outcome was possible..or if God/fate/karma just meant for things to happen this way. I am probably more likely than the average Joe to indulge in this backward thinking. I won't go so far as to say that I enjoy wallowing - but I am comfortable in my emotions. I had a fantastic Wednesday night wake for my failed relationship - complete with wine and American Idol - alternating being sad and being angry. I am still uncertain which one wins. I suppose it depends on when you ask me still.
In the course of this wallowing, I thought about if it was possible that I could have acted in a way that created a different ending. If I could have adjusted so that Chet and I were still annoying Cindy (hmmm...still can't remember her alias) with our cutesy facebook chatter. Without even thinking really hard I could come up with things I should have handled differently or moments where I should have talked something out instead of glossing it over - but nothing that would have changed the path we were on. Just typical duh moments that happen in all our relationships - platonic and non - that we wish we could revisit for a moment. So if I asked myself if I could have changed something concrete, the answer is no. Despite my mistakes and flaws, I always gave an honest representation of who I am and what I was looking for. I was exactly who I said I was, who I have been all along.
However - here is what I would change. Peeing with the door open.
Bear with me here for a moment and (for most of you) this will make sense shortly. When Chet and I started dating, we pretty much ran head first into this relationship. It was hard not to really...we already knew each other so there was no getting-to-know-you dating lag time. He had met my family weeks before we even kissed, so family was already involved. And people were just so freaking happy for us. Don't get me wrong - I loved the support and the enthusiasm. At first it was fantastic to have everyone be so excited. But what happens when you hear "oh-you-guys-are-perfect-together!" over and over from all your friends and family? It creates this strange, invisible pressure...to be perfect and to get it right. And I think it made us rush to this place where we were almost old-and-married....when we should have been still looking for dark corners to make out in like randy teenagers.
Enter....peeing with the door open. Chet's apartment has old doors that don't like to stay shut. Chet also has a very curious puppy that doesn't believe that you are allowed to go into a room if she can't go, too. So before we were even dating a few solid weeks, there were two choices. Play with the door forever like an idiot and jump up mid-pee to protect it from the invading puppy or surrender gracefully and pee with the open door. I am not a squeamish, shy kind of girl. The literal act of peeing with the door is not what is the point here. But there is an intimacy in sharing a bathroom. An intimacy that typically comes from time...and the sharing of sweatpants and toothbrushes. We just were not to that point. (I actually don't ever like to share my toothbrush - one boyfriend borrowed it once and I just went and bought a new one.) Of course this didn't automatically doom us, but it is just the early precursor to our habit of skipping ahead. The event that swung the tide, for me, was Vegas.
Vegas was.....awesome, fun, exhausting, and stressful. We went for Fiona and Wallace's wedding and we really did see some very cool things. We also came home with all our belongings and even some of our cash, so all in all it was a successful trip. But Vegas amped up all this pressure that was there. Now, of course, keep in mind this is my viewpoint and how I feel. If you ask Chet he may very well tell you that he just couldn't take my candles or snoring any longer. I don't know, because frankly we just don't talk well. So you will have to go to him for his side. But for me, Vegas made everything feel....hmmm...I don't even have the word for it really...'heavy' maybe? Weighty? Serious? Not because we took a trip together, but because is was ...Vegas.
So in the weeks leading up to our trip, and when we were there, and when we came back...all we heard was "are you getting married?", "did you get married?", and "when are you going to get married?". It wasn't even just one person that kept on about it - there were just so many people that liked us together or were happy for us....which is a great thing, don't get me wrong. It made me feel confident in my decision to be with Chet when all our friends and family were so certain that we were good for each other. And Chet and I were not blameless. We played it up sometimes to mess with people. It felt good to have people be excited for us and it was fun and cute....at first. But it began to pile up and create expectations - and I am a people pleaser so I began to worry and stress about expectations. I would not be exaggerating to say that I probably had about fifty conversations with curious people about where Chet and I were in regards to getting married - and we had been dating for two months at this point. It was so much pressure to place on a fledgling romance. Too much pressure. And in the last home stretch here, I really felt like I was pulled so thin that nothing was getting my best effort. Not Chet, not my family, not my home or my puppies or school. I felt like I was losing bits of my life under this pressure to be as perfect and as serious as everyone thought we were. I began to feel like a regular dinner and a movie date was my new holy grail.
So if I had to go back and do it again, I wouldn't change myself. However, I would have slowed everything down. I would have not done his laundry or taken care of his dog every night. I would have spent that time shopping online for naughty underwear and sent him texts of my favorites. I would have made him ask me out for dinner and a movie instead of meeting him at his house in pajama pants with take out. I would have stayed in that dating stage as long as possible. Instead of trying to be everything he needed - I would have just been the girl he went out with 2 nights a week and dreamed about for the rest of them. I would have resisted the urge to jump ahead. And I would have bought a heavy duty stopper for the bathroom door.
In the course of this wallowing, I thought about if it was possible that I could have acted in a way that created a different ending. If I could have adjusted so that Chet and I were still annoying Cindy (hmmm...still can't remember her alias) with our cutesy facebook chatter. Without even thinking really hard I could come up with things I should have handled differently or moments where I should have talked something out instead of glossing it over - but nothing that would have changed the path we were on. Just typical duh moments that happen in all our relationships - platonic and non - that we wish we could revisit for a moment. So if I asked myself if I could have changed something concrete, the answer is no. Despite my mistakes and flaws, I always gave an honest representation of who I am and what I was looking for. I was exactly who I said I was, who I have been all along.
However - here is what I would change. Peeing with the door open.
Bear with me here for a moment and (for most of you) this will make sense shortly. When Chet and I started dating, we pretty much ran head first into this relationship. It was hard not to really...we already knew each other so there was no getting-to-know-you dating lag time. He had met my family weeks before we even kissed, so family was already involved. And people were just so freaking happy for us. Don't get me wrong - I loved the support and the enthusiasm. At first it was fantastic to have everyone be so excited. But what happens when you hear "oh-you-guys-are-perfect-together!" over and over from all your friends and family? It creates this strange, invisible pressure...to be perfect and to get it right. And I think it made us rush to this place where we were almost old-and-married....when we should have been still looking for dark corners to make out in like randy teenagers.
Enter....peeing with the door open. Chet's apartment has old doors that don't like to stay shut. Chet also has a very curious puppy that doesn't believe that you are allowed to go into a room if she can't go, too. So before we were even dating a few solid weeks, there were two choices. Play with the door forever like an idiot and jump up mid-pee to protect it from the invading puppy or surrender gracefully and pee with the open door. I am not a squeamish, shy kind of girl. The literal act of peeing with the door is not what is the point here. But there is an intimacy in sharing a bathroom. An intimacy that typically comes from time...and the sharing of sweatpants and toothbrushes. We just were not to that point. (I actually don't ever like to share my toothbrush - one boyfriend borrowed it once and I just went and bought a new one.) Of course this didn't automatically doom us, but it is just the early precursor to our habit of skipping ahead. The event that swung the tide, for me, was Vegas.
Vegas was.....awesome, fun, exhausting, and stressful. We went for Fiona and Wallace's wedding and we really did see some very cool things. We also came home with all our belongings and even some of our cash, so all in all it was a successful trip. But Vegas amped up all this pressure that was there. Now, of course, keep in mind this is my viewpoint and how I feel. If you ask Chet he may very well tell you that he just couldn't take my candles or snoring any longer. I don't know, because frankly we just don't talk well. So you will have to go to him for his side. But for me, Vegas made everything feel....hmmm...I don't even have the word for it really...'heavy' maybe? Weighty? Serious? Not because we took a trip together, but because is was ...Vegas.
So in the weeks leading up to our trip, and when we were there, and when we came back...all we heard was "are you getting married?", "did you get married?", and "when are you going to get married?". It wasn't even just one person that kept on about it - there were just so many people that liked us together or were happy for us....which is a great thing, don't get me wrong. It made me feel confident in my decision to be with Chet when all our friends and family were so certain that we were good for each other. And Chet and I were not blameless. We played it up sometimes to mess with people. It felt good to have people be excited for us and it was fun and cute....at first. But it began to pile up and create expectations - and I am a people pleaser so I began to worry and stress about expectations. I would not be exaggerating to say that I probably had about fifty conversations with curious people about where Chet and I were in regards to getting married - and we had been dating for two months at this point. It was so much pressure to place on a fledgling romance. Too much pressure. And in the last home stretch here, I really felt like I was pulled so thin that nothing was getting my best effort. Not Chet, not my family, not my home or my puppies or school. I felt like I was losing bits of my life under this pressure to be as perfect and as serious as everyone thought we were. I began to feel like a regular dinner and a movie date was my new holy grail.
So if I had to go back and do it again, I wouldn't change myself. However, I would have slowed everything down. I would have not done his laundry or taken care of his dog every night. I would have spent that time shopping online for naughty underwear and sent him texts of my favorites. I would have made him ask me out for dinner and a movie instead of meeting him at his house in pajama pants with take out. I would have stayed in that dating stage as long as possible. Instead of trying to be everything he needed - I would have just been the girl he went out with 2 nights a week and dreamed about for the rest of them. I would have resisted the urge to jump ahead. And I would have bought a heavy duty stopper for the bathroom door.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
From the Desk of the Ringleader~
Hello dear readers! I know I promised blogging adventures last week, but life is seriously kind of insane lately. For those of you that would not recognize me walking around Meijers at one in the morning (which I do frequently - it is a compulsion - I love Meijers) I have a fairly large immediate family. As the oldest, sometimes this makes me feel like the ringmaster of a very noisy, very entertaining, but very busy circus.
Currently, our circus is in earnest expansion mode. Lola is getting married in August. Wallace just got married in Vegas. Wallace is also expecting a baby with his new wife in June. We are planning a July shindig to introduce all our various connections, including a total of six families. My other brother is expecting - well his wife is expecting. All of these connections mean a slew of showers, weddings, receptions, parties....all in addition to the normal challenge of making sure to get family time. Life is just crazy. So I promise to be back soon. Keep the faith!
Currently, our circus is in earnest expansion mode. Lola is getting married in August. Wallace just got married in Vegas. Wallace is also expecting a baby with his new wife in June. We are planning a July shindig to introduce all our various connections, including a total of six families. My other brother is expecting - well his wife is expecting. All of these connections mean a slew of showers, weddings, receptions, parties....all in addition to the normal challenge of making sure to get family time. Life is just crazy. So I promise to be back soon. Keep the faith!
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