She Thinks

Random Acts of Creepiness

So, I have some fairly creepy friends, but one takes the cake, consistently.  Jon.

He is, by and large, one of the most amazing men I have ever met. During a time of strong uncertainty about the male species it was Jon (with the help of my other beautiful men, who have yet to be named) who turned my view on men. Men are good, just like women. Not all, but most.

Jon entered my life and I quickly dubbed him a fake Mexican and made him burritos. He ate them and he hasn't really left since. More than my boss would expect,  I am pleasantly surprised with an email from Jon containing solid evidence that we are meant to be friends.  

At some point he introduced Random Acts of Creepiness.  It never ceases to amaze me, how someone so solidly awesome can be so freaking creepy. Regardless, his creepiness makes me love him, just a bit more.

Jon: Asking the girl who is about to serve herself soup in the staff canteen line .... 'can I spoon you??' Creepy?

Yas: I love you. 

We are one creepy team. 

Ex Perceptions

After discussing why I haven't been all that bothered by breakup before 2009 my ex 'something'  (who I will refer to as TBD until he comes up with a nickname) said,  

"If a breakup didn't hurt, that's saying something. They always hurt. Even if you initiate it - which I know you didn't, but you nearly did - you were about to in some ways. I think that was one of the awesome things about 500 Days of Summer - the scene towards the end where she was crying suddenly as she realised she needed to break up with him. It was just so perceptively done."

Valid insight from a ex somethingerrather, totes weird.

Was I going to end it?  Maybe at the beginning I was a bit overwhelmed, but I had just reached a stage where I really believed I wanted to give it a fair shot. Isn't that just awesome!? I struggle, at first but I always do and eventually I get over it or I leave. With Bear I made the decision to stay. I remember the exact moment it became clear. Oh well, such is life.  

Is it odd that I turned to an ex for comfort from a current? Yes. Do I care? Nope. 

Honestly, who knows you better in relationship bullshit than an ex? They have been through it all before, right next to you. It all just seems a bit more valid...and insightful.

Oh my ... I can

Oh my ... I can post from my blackberry!

Rational Thoughts

Phrases that have left my mouth today, after the break up. 

• I will never have sex again.
• The sex wouldn't have dried up, ever. 
• I did like him though, I swear.
• Yes, I think I should go back to therapy.
• He didn't need to debate foreign policy and dweeby internet trends, I can do that with you guys! 
• Seriously, God, why are you doing this to me? Cannot I not just have some peace, please.

I have to remember my thoughts before we went through this rough patch.

There were conversations, many, that left me feeling like I was about to have an a fucking aneurysm but there was so much that comforting, relaxing and peaceful about it. I struggle with keeping some sense of inner peace. Yoga has been helping, but pissing off to his house far from the city was always a bit of a trek but equally detaching.

I'm in a bit of denial. Is this break up a good idea or a bad idea? 

Magic 8 Ball says, "Absolutely!".

I'm not 100% convinced, ask me in a week.

I'm up, probably for a while.

Lauren gave me a coffee machine, so these days I will actually stock milk in my mini fridge.

I also won't be sleeping or eating much, as I have become obsessed with making coffee.

Welcome to my Monday night. :)

Seriously, your still doing that? Lame.

Look, I like pills- probably more than most. I like knowing they are there, just in case more than I actually like taking them.  Sometimes  Xanax and champagne are my toxins of choice. 14 hour flight? Hit me.  Directly after a emotional break up? Yes please, I’ll even take a full pill.

I mean, I’m a product of my environment, which for a good eighteen years sat in Scottsdale, Arizona - a  few hours from the US/Mexico border. Recreational drug smuggling was the norm. Even though I was completely terrified when I did it- convinced I was going to end up as a fifty year old rotting in the Mexican prison by the border. How border patrol never saw my stark white face as an indicator that I was doing something wrong, I’ll never know. I was and still am a complete baby when it comes to breaking the law. Police scare the shite out of me, even when I am a model citizen.  

It was definitely not uncommon for people to discreetly pack a few doses of antibiotics, you know, just to save yourself a trip to the doctor when you are sure you are getting strep throat, again. As we got a bit older, we realized how fun muscle relaxers could be, then moved on to painkillers. Not often, but one or two pills on the weekend with some St. Ives.

The use of prescriptions drugs was (probably still is) fairly mainstream in high school and college. Some were probably stolen from elderly parents, leftovers from wisdom teeth removals or smuggled one way or another. Taking pills for fun was so common in fact, you would have been hard pressed to find a frat house without a few worn copies of The Pill Book.  Heading down to the beach for Spring Break and not returning with a stash would be unusual. Let me clarify, not a stash to sell, just personal use.  

When I arrived in Australia people believed that because I liked the occasional (very occasional, like once every three months) Xanaz  and always had them on hand that I was a bit … addicted? The occasional Xanax is just like the occasional aspirin. Right? Slowly but surely,  those same friends experienced the joys of Xanax on a flight or after a break up. Now they get it.  It’s not uncommon for them to hit me up before a long journey. I am happy to help them out.

Now, not get all judgmental, but I do have a problem with people consistently abusing prescription drugs. It’s not something that I come across here in Perth, at all, but I did when I recently returned to Phoenix for a very quick visit. I saw a friend, who shall remain nameless, who always had a bit more serious love for Xanax. It had been a few years since I have been back but I just figured she would have matured out of her extreme  weekend pill popping.

Incorrect.  After a few drinks she started  bragging about how many pills she had in her possession. She was ‘holding’ them for someone.  Wait, am I in Scottsdale or South Central LA?

After that moment, I just don’t think I could ever look at her the same. So wait, you really believe that possessing illegal drugs (yes, I carry Xanax but somehow I have convinced my doctor here that I need them … because ‘my doctor in American always gave them to me’ AKA not illegal) is a good thing? Something to boast about?  Whoa. Clearly we are on different levels these days. I thought most people grew out of their drug phase, whether it be pot, coke or pills. Looking at her, I felt instant pity. Not pity, like I wanted to help her- more like pity with a heavy splash of disgust. I didn’t want to know her.

Why?  I have no idea. It just all seemed to have the pathetic and desperate vibe to it. There were a few other factors relating to our uneventful fall out following that night, but there is something about the way she truly believed it would be impressive to show me her ‘stash’ that has stuck with me. It was like a dog pulling in a dead bird for it’s owner as a gift. I felt the same distaste I would have for a dead carcass. The only difference being that I got to walk away without the responsibility of dealing with  the unwanted ‘gift’.

Now, don’t get me wrong, had a good friend, a decent acquaintance or just about anyone turn to me for support in fighting any addiction, I’d be there. This girl didn’t even recognize that she was still carrying on like she was sixteen. Complete disregard for what those pills are doing her liver and how unattractive she looks when her eyes glaze over.  As far as she’s concerned, she’s totally fine. Maybe she is ... I don't think so.

Jab That Bum, Go on Poohead.

Rational is my middle name

Ok, so here I am. Facing life … alone.  Ok not life, that’s all a bit dramatic, but I am facing my first Friday night in alone in goodness knows how long.I am so over the top some times ... It’s been a humorous week. Well not really funny, more like a big fucking slap in the face.

Alone? Yea, without my Bear. Well, he’s actually not mine anymore, at all. But he was and bear is the best way to describe him. I loved it how his heavy steps and the weight of his body would make very noticeable noises as he ran across my 4^th floor apartment. He’s a hairy, manly, beautiful, muscular bear.  He was also my boyfriend until this week.

When I first met Bear, I was preparing for a trip home to the good old US of A. I couldn’t even think about anything other than going back and facing the country I’d left behind. The sex was great but he wasn’t my type, mentally, too nice and considerate. A good country boy, who for some odd reason I just didn’t feel like I could ever truly connect with.

I left on my whirlwind of a trip and thought about him, more often that I really imagined I ever would. I even went as far as to call him, multiple times, when I was away much to the fancy of my mobile company. I decided to just let it flow, to the best of my ability.  I came home and it was on. There were up and down moments, moments where I couldn’t even face him, he was too kind and I was too scared to think that this could be IT. You know, IT, the end of the road, the ONE. I have this irrational fear, who am I kidding, I have more than one irrational fear.  So many in fact and they seem to be multiplying as I get older.

One thing at a time, I have this fear that easily creeps in when I meet someone. I become slightly terrified that they will end up being the ONE. It’s unwarranted, as it could be as simple as meeting an attractive and intelligent man who asks me out. Once my number is in his hot little hands, I freak out. Not about him, but what if… what if that is it? It’s me and him from our first date on, forever. Am I ready? Is he the right guy? WHAT HAVE I DONE? Ohmyfreakingword, I want to go to Europe with my girlfriends. I want to volunteer in Africa. HOW AM I GOING TO DO THIS WITH HIM?  Wait a second, is he the LAST person I am ever going to kiss? Oh shite.  This could all happen before I even know his surname. Any rational person, will argue that I am jumping a head of my self and I have nothing to say other than, ‘Yes .Oh blessed rational person, you are right’. 

So yea, enter Bear. I freak out, I ignore my genuine feelings and brush him off, consistently. Time and time again. You know, because this handsome, genuine man who is crazy about me just can’t be the ONE. I just met him, this is not the end of my ‘fun single’ times.  Regardless of my apparent disinterest, he keeps coming back for more, he really liked me. I realize, a day late and a dollar short, this is amazing.  

As we all would have guessed by now, eventually Bear exits. As much as I say it was inevitable, he argues that it wasn’t, it was me sabotaging our relationship and now, it’s too late to turn back. We’ll see. I hope not. So now I sit here, on my couch drinking somewhat decent white wine, writing. Finally starting another blog, something I have been meaning to do for years.

Just think, if Jamie T wouldn’t have contracted laryngitis I would have been dancing my ass off down by the sea.  Instead I sit here, writing a blog about my recently departed boyfriend, all while wearing a new string of pearls, red lipstick and a cocktail dress. I just cannot be bothered. Writing and wine seems to be a more valuable option.  At least a little less destructive than going out and meeting the next man to sabotage…

Plus, it’s not over yet. Almost, but not done. I think I’ll fight for this one.Rational thought, I have no idea but to be honest right now I just need what I need. I believe it's him. Who knows about forever? I obviously just need to concern myself with the right now...

Double Red Flags

Written in April 2009

Attached and a colleague, yay or nay?

After a tumultuous relationship, I fell into an easy friendship with a colleague. He was young, cute and for some reason, he listened to me. I mean really retained what I was saying. After a few weeks of flirting, he asked me for drinks. Feeling alone and unlovable, he smiled upon me. I was his, for then and to be honest, I’d be his again.

He has a girlfriend, but she lives on the other side of the country. It’s ok, right? Well that’s what I think, for the most part. They aren’t married, there are no children and I don’t assume that they truly are meant for each other, it’s really just a matter of time.  If he really loved her would he still want me around? Wouldn’t someone bite the bullet and more to be closer to each other?

Do I pursue him?  Occasionally - definitely actively after a few drinks. Does this make me a bad woman?  An Antifeminist? I used to believe in women for women, but I was younger and naïve.

It started out innocent enough and will likely end that way. We get together, we flirt, we drink wine, then we pop in a movie and go to bed. We kiss and cuddle and then some time usually just after the sun rises, we fall asleep- limbs entangled but fully clothed. Does he want to fuck me?  Yes. Am I game? Yes. Will he? Maybe. Only time will tell.

Will I entice him?  Absolutely. I actually look forward to it. I like it when he rolls his eyes at me and walks away muttering, “God, you drive me wild. Fucking Yas, why are you doing this to me?”. I laugh. If one day we do decide to go all the way, I won’t do it in jest or just for fun. My good deed and loyalty to his girlfriend will be, to stop and have that moment of pause.

Are you ready for this Carter? Are you sure?

Then, we’ll take it from there. The thing is, I like him. He’s adorable and will make a lovely husband one day. Probably not to me, as I have a few years on him. He’s just what I need right now. He’s quite in a thoughtful way. My friends call him Weenie Carter, because for a while he let me walk all over him.

Not anymore. He’s manned up, set boundaries with me.  It’s appreciated, not so much in the moment but the next day I thanked him for doing so and told him I hope we can still be friends. Of course. So we sit here, after setting the boundaries. He calls a lot on a random Saturday night. He doesn’t invite me over at first. That’s fine, I’m keeping myself company tonight.

After I send myself into a warm spinach and ricotta cannelloni food coma I am awakened not by one call, but a succession of calls that don’t stop until half past four AM. I call him back, he talks absolute crap. Begging me to come over and promising me that if I just show up, he would be mine forever. Do I want forever?

At this stage, I’m not interested. I am just interested in the adoration, kindness and the gentle way he manages me. I need to have some faith in men. Outside of my group of male friends, I think men stink. I also halfway believe that those awesome men and the ones like them won’t be interested in me. A chronic symptom of low self esteem, I know this. I also know it is rubbish, that I am a fantastic, beautiful, smart and popular woman with an enviable life. Anyways…

I know better than to give in. I’m definitely not about to reduce myself to a booty call, especially not for uncharted territory. What if he doesn’t want to go down on me? Not on the coldest night of winter. No way jose. I am not taking that gamble. Does he mean it? I’m not sure. Does he want me?  Yes. Am I going to go there?  I hope not, but I wouldn’t put it past me. He did the right thing, he set the boundaries but I like him and the attention he gives me. At the moment, I need that attention. Should I stop validating myself through men?  Oh yeah- Is that easy? Nope.

So for now, I’ll let Carter pay attention to me. It’s nice. Is this a train wreck about to happen? Maybe, but I’m still standing waiting for my stop but who knows when it will derail? I’ll be here for a few more stops and I don’t feel bad about it.