I don't even try

I don't know what I'm passionate about right now. I feel hollow all the time. I'm never hungry but also never full. In February I decided to stop fighting everything all the time but I guess in my case that just makes me apathetic. Or numb. I can't even tell which.

I've been trying to learn to sit with my feelings more. Or rather, just to actually feel them. To be able to say to myself things like "I am sad that this boy doesn't like me even though it's not logical to be this sad about it" or "even though I completely understand and agree with the reason I'm losing my job it's reasonable to be sad and scared and anxious". Maybe this is the way you feel feelings all the time. This is not the way I feel feelings. Look, there's a reason Spock has always been my favorite. However, you'll be shocked to know I am not a Vulcan, even though I sometimes often act like one. The problem is that by the time I actually let myself feel things I'm feeling this huge reservoir of feeling and I can't identify where each one is coming from.

So I can tell you right now that I am sad and bitter and disillusioned; that I just suspended my OkC account for the eleventybillionth time though in truth I've been on an online dating hiatus for a month now already anyways; that none of the job listings I've read make me want to send in my resume; that I made out with a boy I had no intention of ever making out with again and I honestly don't know how I feel about it, I want to say I feel nothing about it but I don't think you can actually make out and cuddle with somebody that you like and not have feelings about it and I think it's actually that the feelings are too complicated and too many things and so I'm not sitting with those ones yet* and that I'm well aware there is some major grammatical craziness going on in this post but I just don't give a fuck.

But I can also tell you I've had moments of peace and serenity lately. That walking around in Central Park with the sun on your skin and new friend is happiness. That nighttime rambles with a flask size bottle of whiskey and friend you haven't seen in a while are kind of great even if they unexpectedly kiss you later. That I do have one single job interview lined up and it looks perfect for me. That I spent yesterday at my pastry cook's friend's home out in Fresh Meadows and got to hang out with her siblings and large friend group and remember what it feels like to be part of something stable and solid. That I have a week packed full of social activities with other BiSC goers who are fast becoming my close friends.

I can tell you that I've recently realized that I'm angry at myself for letting go of and being less vocal about things I care about to make myself more palatable or to fit into groups better. That I've taken my philosophy of "pick and choose your battles" a little too far. Hi, I'm Alana and I am a feminist and I probably don't think any of your sexist/homophobic/racist jokes are funny and yeah, I'm generally ludicrously PC and I'm ok with that. JUST SO WE'RE CLEAR.

So maybe it's not that there isn't anything going on. Maybe it's that there's too much going on. Too much swirling around in my head for me to sort through it and feel any of it. Today I decided I was just going to fake it until I make it. I cleaned my room, I did some yoga, I ate an entire pineapple and also quinoa, poached chicken, black beans and avocados. Fine... also an entire bag of cadbury mini eggs.

Baby steps back to caring people, baby steps.

*This is how I feel: I feel sad and a little angry because it was nice and it was comfortable and making out and a cuddle buddy were exactly what I needed this week and it wasn't expected so it was a nice ego boost but it wasn't with somebody with whom I am actually ok with casually making out and cuddling. So, I'm sad that it's not something I get to do in a non-casual way and a little angry with both of us for doing it. And maybe a little angry at myself for not being over him even though I said earlier it was ok to be sad. God I hate feelings. THEY DON'T EVEN MAKE SENSE A LITTLE BIT, CAN I PLEASE BE A VULCAN NOW?

Bits & Pieces (the third)

I mean, THIS WEEK, y'all, this week. Or two weeks? I don't even know. I don't even know where to start. This is going to be a little brain dump-y. Ok, a lot brain dump-y. (read: hilarious/ridiculous/rambling)

I didn't finish Scintilla because I had a carpal tunnel flare up, probably from Scintilla. What I learned from Scintilla: I actually, physically cannot write every day. So there's that. That's pretty shitty. I mean, I probably could if I didn't get paid to squeeze piping bags and shape tiny pasta but I do, so writing every day is out. And no, I couldn't really hold a pen by the end of the day either. With a break from writing and "sleeping" with a wrist brace for a few days, I seem to be doing ok. This makes me really happy because a) I can stop sleeping with the motherfucking wrist brace because sleeping with a wrist brace is more like "wake up every three hours and groggily wonder why the fuck you have this uncomfortable torture device on your wrist" b) I was freaking out because I don't have health insurance and I'm ok with paying the $100 for an urgent care appointment if it's for getting antibiotics or some shit, but carpal tunnel isn't really a "here take this things and it's fixed" sort of problem and I have no money for tests or physical therapy or, god forbid, surgery and the freaking out probably didn't help with the wrist brace induced insomnia and c) now I can write again.

And I need to write again so that I can tell you about how I haven't slept longer than three hours in one stretch EVEN WHEN I DRUGGED MYSELF for like two weeks and I am really really glad I finally have two days off IN A ROW tomorrow and Monday.

Also, I need to talk about how boys are confusing.

I suffer from chronic bitch face, my mouth naturally turns down when my face is relaxed, while this doesn't seem to really bother other women, it means I get a lot of those annoying commands from men to smile. It also seems to mean that men either think I'm a bitch, or if they've gotten me to smile, that I'm flirting with them. I either apparently have "bitchface" or "flirtface" on because apparently I unintentionally flirt A LOT when I think I'm just making conversation. (Sidenote: Yes, I am also a flirt, but when I'm intentionally flirting it's usually pretty obvious, there's a lot of smirking and eyebrow raises and taking advantage of my shortness) And then I'm too nice and I give people my number EVEN THOUGH I DIDN'T THINK WE WERE FLIRTING and then I feel awful but most of the time this isn't too much of a problem because I can just be that awful girl that ignores your calls. However, it is a problem when my drunken coworker kisses me and I didn't even see it coming a little bit.

Drunken coworker.

Kissed me.

Not the one I slept with forever ago when I wasn't working there. A new one. Like, not just new to kissing me, but new to working there. Oh, and did I mention he has a girlfriend? And I've barely every spoken to him? Except for making polite getting to know you conversation at the other sous chef's going away party, I'd pretty much never said anything other than "Hey, how are you? Which breads are you low on?".

But we left the party at the same time and we were waiting for the train and he kissed me and WHAT? So I told him it was a bad idea and then he said it was a good idea and then he looked me straight in the eyes and told me I was beautiful and I was so caught off guard (see also: drunk) that I didn't dodge a second kiss. And then he fell over, taking me with him. And then he vomited.

So here I am, in the train station, with a guy I've known two weeks and have had maybe a total of thirty minutes worth of conversation with who is falling over, vomiting, black out drunk. Sober me realizes he might've hit his head when we fell and that maybe I should've taken him to a hospital. Drunk me went into crisis mode and decided to get him in a cab and get him home.

He's a foot taller than me and does not have a small build. I have a bruise over half my right ring finger from the pressure of the claddaugh I wear from trying to pull him up by his hands. I succeed in getting him up and out of the train station. With much effort I get his address out of him and get us into a cab. Not thinking about the fact that his address could be construed as Brooklyn or Manhattan and assuming that the cabbie would stay IN THE BOROUGH WE WERE IN if I didn't specify, I focused on making sure new coworker was alive and ok and not on the fact that OH HEY WE'RE IN MANHATTAN NOW, also please pull over because new coworker needs to throw up more. So then I had to go back to Brooklyn. Most expensive cab ride ever. Fuck my life. But, I mean, what the fuck else am I supposed to do?

We finally get back to his house and the effing effity eff keys keep sticking in the lock and it's freezing and it's 3am and it takes like twenty minutes of us passing the keys back and forth to each other to get in the god damn house where we proceed to go upstairs to his bedroom and then I go to the bathroom only to find he's disappeared while I was peeing. Fuck. I find him downstairs in the other bathroom sitting on the toilet with his head in the sink. I mean, hey, I usually prefer to use the toilet for vomiting and the floor for sitting on, but at least this way he can't choke on his own vomit in his sleep. He vaguely wakes up, throws up some more. I try to force some water into him, he doesn't keep it down. I consider sleeping in the bathtub because I am a crazy person that thinks that somehow by sleeping next to a black out drunk person I'll keep them from injuring themselves. I try to pull him up and get him upstairs. No luck. Finally, I give up and let him fall asleep, head in the sink. I go up to his room, curl up on the bed, completely clothed, jacket still on because it's freezing and set an alarm for twenty minutes to go check on him. Repeat, repeat, repeat. Eventually he makes it into bed.

And that, was how this week started. I left before he woke up. I know he knows I got him home because I overheard him telling my other coworkers that he blacked out and I got him home but I have no idea what else he remembers.

So I'm pretty much just pretending none of it ever happened and he hasn't said anything about any of it to me (either the kissing or the me getting him home) but he has been really friendly and look, HOW THE FUCK DO YOU DEAL WITH THIS SITUATION? Because I'm at work, I have a professional relationship with him. I barely know him. I don't want to kiss him. But I spent multiple hours wiping vomit off his face and I've slept in his bed so it's weird. It's really fucking weird. I don't know what to do, so I'll probably just keep pretending nothing ever happened except it makes me kind of feel like a bitch to be like "hey, I've seen you crazy vulnerable and in need of help but now I'm acting like I barely know you". But I barely know him.

So anyways, apparently I have no idea how to read men because I really didn't think we were flirting but he really was determined to kiss me. Also, he was really drunk so I'm assuming it has no bearing on how sober him feels about kissing me. At least I'm hoping that's true.

Boys Are Confusing Part Two:

This past Saturday I think I almost got into my first fight with Trouble. (Pro Tip: You're not supposed to get in fights with somebody with whom you're just sleeping and have no emotional involvement, because I think that's a sign of emotional involvement. Oops.) We were in a cab and he mentioned how his new subletter was a really great guy and HE SAID "not like my other roommate" so I said "who hates me?". He again clarified that his roommate hates everyone and I again stated that I didn't really care if his roommate hates me because he was kind of a jerk.

"Really? Because he's one of my really good friends, y'know we grew up together, so his opinion really matters to me"

And then I changed the subject because a) never try to reason with drunk people especially if you are also drunk and b) why does it matter what his best friend thinks of me if we're not dating?! What?

We are talking about a guy here who once pointed to the ring on my finger and said "Are you engaged? I mean, not that it would matter if you were, I don't believe in the whole marriage thing". I thought we were firmly in this is not a relationship land, not ambiguous relationship land. Ambiguous relationship land is my actual least favorite.

Why am I meeting his best friend?

Why does his best friend's opinion matter?

Why are we seeing each other (slightly) more often?

And why is he doing cute things like pushing my hair out of my eyes and telling me it's a good to see me?

And I AM A GIRL AND I NEED TO ANALYZE ALL THESE THINGS TO DEATH BECAUSE I HAVE ALL THESE FEEEEEEEEELINGS.

Unrelated to all these things, I worked 13 hours today even though it's the day my pastry cook came back from being on vacation. I don't know either. Also I had potato chips for dinner even though I'm starting a juice cleanse on Monday. The world has been muffled all week. If you understand that statement, I am glad for the company, though also sorry. If you don't, I can't explain it. My room is a mess. I misread my DIGITAL scale all week and thought I had gained back five pounds instead of losing five pounds. I will clean my room tomorrow and I will pay to have somebody else do my laundry and I will have dinner with my family and I will start drinking all the juice on Monday and life will come back in focus again. I think. I think that's how it works.

But now, it's time to go the fuck to sleep.

Obligatory Thanksgiving Post

So as you may or may not know, Thanksgiving isn't really my favorite holiday. It's probably one of my least favorites. Or my least favorite. I don't like turkey or stuffing or cranberry sauce, if my yams are marshmallow free that is 100% ok and I basically just eat mashed potatos, salad and pumpkin pie. On the plus side, I really do love mashed potatos and pumpkin pie. They're both probably in my top ten favorite foods. Also my grandma usually makes a ham because I'm a picky brat and because there are 25ish people so it's not like just a turkey is enough anyways. Anyways, Thanksgiving is full of food I don't really like, usually help cook and ALL OF THE HECTIC. Control freak, chef me, would have lists and timelines and so much stuff prepped but that is not the way my grandma likes to do things. So dinner is usually about 2 to 3 hours later than scheduled which means Thanksgiving dinner is at normal dinner time and by that time I've not eaten because she keeps saying "it's almost ready" and I don't know if you've ever been around me when I've gone that long without eating or spent that much time in an inefficient kitchen, but I'm generally ready to hulk smash your face.

So I'm basically the Thanksgiving grinch.

I REALLY love Christmas and Channukah though. Presents and trees and ice skating and sparkles and latkes! Wee! (Just don't make me listen to holiday music for the entire month. Please)

So in an effort to not be the Thanksgiving grinch, here's an obligatory things I'm thankful for post:

  1. That I don't have to spend Thanksgiving with my family this year, because I am in no emotional state to handle it.
  2. That my family is wonderful and sends me things like cards with dancing turkeys, turkey candles, a Ruth Reichl book, halloween goodies and coolers of bacon.
  3. That my mama is getting married in January because she has lived a life (as they say) and deserves happiness. Also because she's getting married in Vegas by Elvis and I get to go both home and to Vegas in January. Win.
  4. Technology that allows me to communicate with friends in California when it's the middle of the night here but not there and everybody here is asleep and I am sad and lonely.
  5. $5 yoga
  6. That I may not be bringing in the stacks of cash but that my income easily covers the necessities of a roof over my head, food to eat and paying off that pesky student loan debt. Also that it allows me to do/buy the things I want (within reason, I mean, no, it won't let me buy all of the plane tickets to Paris and twenty million Louboutins, but all of the cardigans and croissants is still pretty acceptable)
  7. That I can see the Manhattan skyline from my roof.
  8. That since I'm in New York for the holidays this year I get to do Jewish Christmas. Any excuse to eat Dim Sum is something to be thankful for in my book.
  9. Outdoor ice skating. It makes me really happy. It doesn't really exist in California. Do you like to go ice skating? PLEASE LETS BE FRIENDS. I really like ice skating. Like if you ever want to see me get all giddy and smiley instead of tough and sarcastic, let's go ice skating. Wait, I think I just decided what I'm making everyone do for my birthday this year...
  10. Only working four days this week.
  11. My new hoodie dress which will be prefect for days when I want to be lazy and cozy and warm but still look cute. (PS, there's still a $25 for $50 0r $50 for $100 American Apparel groupon going on, I might even buy another because I might just need that dress in every color for maximum laziness)

That's all for now.

Also pumpkin pie.

And bourbon.

And making a bourbon pumpkin pie. Possibly with pecans. Think about it.

Mama said there'll be days like this

Here's the things about compromising, it kind of becomes a tricky business. If you're not careful, it starts to look an awful lot like settling. Compromise is more about opportunity cost. It's about a conscious choice. Settling, I think settling is a little more like giving up.

But it's hard, when you're not happy, because settling for less than what you really want seems better than nothing at all. I'm starting to be pretty sure that's just depression being a lying bastard again though.

There were these five minutes, right, where I was just like "fuck this, it's drunken floozy time," because some human contact, some affection, I mean, it's better than none right? Mostly I thought this because I had the opportunity. A friend of a friend. He's cute and charming and funny and says things like "you have eyes the color of a country sky," which is both the most ridiculous thing anyone has half seriously said to me and it turns out kind of works on me as a line, at least if it's 3am and I've been drinking since 10:30, but then, most things do at that point.

(Side Note: It might also have to do with the person saying it, the other night a man asked if anyone had told me how beautiful I was tonight. Classic line that would've been amusing from a young guy but not from a pudgy fourty year old who later tried to put his arm around me. EVEN AT 4AM NOT OK)

Our first actual date was two days after meeting. And all the follow through and planning was him. That, plus his willingness to go on a date at 11:30pm on a Thursday after I got off work gave me some pretty high hopes. And I thought "No, this guy isn't what I really want, but I don't think I can have what I really want so maybe it's good enough and maybe I'll change my mind". I also thought "this guy is cute and charming and clearly knows it, he's going to be trouble".

I was right. After that first date... He initiates plans, he reschedules plans. He initiates plans, he reschedules plans. We're currently on round 3 of rescheduling. I don't initiate at all because guess what I seemed to have finally learned... Being jerked around? NOT ACTUALLY BETTER THAN NOTHING and DEFINITELY not better than getting some form of what you actually want. In case I had somehow forgotten this, I'm pretty sure there's basically about a year worth of blog posts to remind me that I used to be the kind of girl that put up with that bullshit, but I didn't even need to read them to know I was miserable then and I'm really not that girl anymore.

I get that guys that ask if it's "hard to walk around with such gorgeous eyes all the time" are not the guys that are looking to take somebody home to mom. That's fine. I mostly just wanted him to be a distraction from my endless work, home, sleep, never get to see friends cycle and maybe, maybe to get me over that gigantic crush that's been lingering on since, y'know, JULY. But instead I'm now all "OH MY GOD THIS WAS THE WORST IDEA EVER I LIKE THAT OTHER GUY SO MUCH MORE THAN YOU AND YOU ARE A SUPER GIGANTIC JERKFACE". Also, yes, obviously this guy has managed to hit on one of my BIGGEST pet peeves and it's not like he knew that, which was fine the first time. The third time? That's just sending the message you're just not that into me and I am not that into you, so maybe stop trying to make plans with me. Right?

So this is the one where I learn that:

a) Even though sometimes I feel like I'm writing posts I've already written a million times before, at least in some aspects, I've changed and respect myself a little more.

b) Settling? Not worth it. And if I'm still comparing, I'm still settling. Lesson learned. Hopefully.

 

A reminder to practice non attachment or hyper vigilance, I'm not sure which.

So Monday (which is my Sunday) was kind of just an all around good day, a "if this isn't nice, I don't know what is" sort of day (to borrow a phrase from Mr. Vonnegut). The kind of day that makes you think, "if this is how my weeks going to go, I'm fucking golden, bitches". There was good hanging out time, there was good finding the perfect practical black purse that could also be dressed up and was on crazy sale time (I actually did not own a black purse before yesterday, crazy right?), there was buying a really cute iPhone cover time and there was good eating leftover Chinese food time.

Have I made the point that Monday was full of win yet? FULL OF MOTHERFUCKING WIN.

So obviously, the universe was like "hey, that's a little too much being satisfied with life for you" and decided that maybe it would be fun if this morning, while I was on the train to work, some asshole ran into the train, grabbed my phone from my hands and ran back out before I could even react. Yes, I'm that idiot on the train at 3:30am with their phone out. Also, so is everyone else on the train. All fucking four of them. I was just closest to the door. Or maybe because my phone was obviously the prettiest with its brand new adorable polka dot case. Yeah. I shouldn't have bought the case, that was clearly just tempting fate. Damn you polk dots and your siren call.

I suppose as far as having something stolen from you, it was fairly innocuous. No being threatened bodily harm or anything. However, I'm kind of nervous every morning on the way to work because it's 3:30am and I'm 5'2" and female and that doesn't really lead to me feeling particularly safe, so the phone thing, it kind of pushed me over the edge. Walking over the bridge, a bicyclist whistled at me, I'm pretty sure in a "I'm going to pass you" kind of way but it sounded like a catcall and I immediately felt my body go straight into flight mode before I turned around and saw it was just some harmless hipster dude on a bike. I spent the rest of the walk to work going into my ProAct training. How would group home worker Alana deal with a crisis situation? Slow breathes. Unclench my fists. Full on panic attack averted.

My hands were shaking the entire morning. Not the best for baking. When my boss came to pick up the pastry I was so frazzled I barely said two words to her, not thinking about the fact that the place I keep the menu for the week is in my email, which requires me having my phone. Of course I go to figure out my prep for the day and realize I have no idea and more importantly I'm totally freaked out that I haven't yet stopped service on my phone and reported it missing (there's no phone or computer at work, it's a production kitchen) so I went all the way back home dealt with that shit and then went back to work.

So far in this story, Tuesday is not full of win. In fact, I think it's safe to say, Tuesday is full of fail. Really full of it.

Luckily, I'm not really adult and am still on a family plan. Also luckily, I set up all of my grandparents' online accounts for frickin everything, so I went online and saw that all of the phone lines that were not mine were available for an upgrade and emailed my grandma and got permission to use one of them to make it so I could actually buy a new phone.

I headed over to my uncle's to pick up an old phone to activate in case for some reason I couldn't walk out of the store with a replacement iPhone and we went on a journey to AT&T where I had to add myself as an authorized account user using my magical I set up everything online skills before the guy would let me make account decisions, which was kind of hilarious. No, I can't sell you a phone, but you can change who the authorized users are online if you have access...

And then my uncle bought my phone.

Because my family is awesome.

Grandma's upgrade + uncle's credit card means I went less than 24 hours without an iPhone.

So while, I can't say Tuesday isn't still primarily full of fail, it's definitely got some win to it.

Anxious about getting on the train in the morning though. Attempt at sleeping didn't work out so well. Obviously.

I want snuggles.

New York, WTF?

Or, That time I went to the grocery store and it made me want to cry.

If you've ever read my food blog, or talked to me for more than five minute, you know that I'm obsessive about what I eat. I don't mean I count calories or eat super healthy or diet in any way. I very actively do not do those things. What I do do is read labels. Not for the nutrition information, but for the list of ingredients that better be pretty damn short and, sometimes even more importantly, to find out where things are from. I eat local and I eat seasonally. I don't mean I prefer to eat local, sustainable, organic, etc when I can afford it. I mean I make myself afford it. If I can't afford to buy non factory farmed meat, then I just go veg until I can. When I didn't have time or energy to go to the Farmers' Market when I was working graveyards, I found a way to have a CSA box delivered.

I knew moving from California would mean giving up some things in the way of food quality and variety, especially produce (this may be a city for foodies restaurantwise, but not for home cooks) but I don't think I quite realized how much more effort it would take to eat local. Even the produce at the organic market made Safeway look like a gourmet grocer and the produce at the regular grocery store...

IMG_0812

Sure, I don't buy tomatoes in February anyways, but note: those are HOT HOUSE tomatoes. There is no reason for hot house tomatoes to be green. Do people realize that there is no way these taste like what a tomato is supposed to taste like?

Don't even get me started on the dairy. I couldn't even find dairy or eggs that actually came from New York. The organic whole milk I bought has the consistancy of 1% and I couldn't even bring myself to buy eggs from another state. I shudder to think what those yolks must look like.

I did buy some fresh bread from a bakery, so at least there's that. I am now going to eat the whole loaf with nutella and butter from far away while drinking a bottle of California wine and sobbing in the corner.

Or I'm going to find out when and where the Farmers' Markets are.

Oh, and what did I find that was organic at the grocery store?

IMG_0811 IMG_0810 IMG_0809

From left to right, those things come from: Napa, Santa Cruz and Petaluma. So I guess I can at least have the comfort of eating food from home while I figure out where the good food is hidden?

I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more

If you know me, you know that despite my strong, absolute morals, I kind of hate confrontation but you hopefully also know that I do my best to walk what I talk and live my life in line with those morals. Today when I came into work one of my coworkers let me know that he thought my boss wouldn't be paying the teahouse staff I was training to bake while they were working with me. This was then confirmed. I'd like to add that when I started working he required employees to clock out for then ten minute breaks, something you can sued and given a hefty fine for. He also does not pay time and mileage when employees work outside of the teahouse and are required to drive their own vehicles to transport equipment and product, such as to Farmers' Markets.  So even though I'm fairly certain my boss cannot have anything nice to say back to me about this and that I'm possibly about to enter into an argument/negotiation when all I really want is to say is "I'm walking off the job, I'm not coming back, don't call" I am sending my boss this email.

Dear *****,

I am not comfortable training people that are not getting paid for their time working with me. Time and again I have chosen to work for small businesses though I have the training and capacity to work for larger corporations because I believe strongly in local economies, just and equitable treatment of employees and strict adherence to CA and national labor codes. I find the expectation of employees to come in and do training on their own time, which you could not do if you were hiring a new baker, to show a complete lack of respect for my job and knowledge, for your workers and for the law. Though it seems incredibly unprofessional to give less than two weeks notice, I will not work for an employer that treats their employees in such a way. Expecting labor to go unpaid is simply unacceptable to me regardless of whatever agreements other employees may be willing to make due to inexperience or lack of knowledge.

Please accept this as notice of my leaving my employment at Infusions Teahouse, effective immediately. Keys to the Tierra Vegetable Kitchen and Infusions Teahouse will be left at Tierra Vegetables when I come to pick up my cookbooks/notebooks, no later than May 15th, 2010. A printed and signed copy of this document and temperatures and cooking methods for all caramels will be dropped off as well.

I'm sorry if this seems harsh or unjust to you, but you have crossed, what to me, is a moral boundary. I have struggled with how to convey this to you, but I have no problem drawing a line in the sand.

Sincerely,
Alana ********

Maybe this seems unreasonable to you, my insistence on protecting the rights of middle class young women (because there is only one man other than my boss working at the teahouse) working in an environment that clearly caters to the liberal bourgeouisie of this county when I have driven by migrant workers in the vineyards working under probably far more grueling conditions on a regular basis. All I can say is it's been a long journey learning I can't fight every battle, that I can't singlehandedly fix the world but this is a battle I can fight.

This is why I've found foodservice less than fulfilling though I love to bake, create and train, I do not know how to live a life if it is not lived in service. I'm just not wired that way. Things like this happen.

My arm is being eaten by a mystery bug bite, I better get some god damn super powers

I know, I know, you've been reading my tweets and you're just like "chill out Alana, it's just a bug bite, stop being such a crazy drama queen". But seriously, look at this.

IMG_0438

The super faint line is where it had spread to after 1.5 hours, the darker line is after a total of three hours from time of bite. It also goes around the side and onto the back of my arm a little bit.

Remember how I had a kidney infection last month that could've potentially lead to blood poisoning and hospitalization? I feel like a serious insect bite could do the same thing. So basically at this point I'm convinced that I need to become somehow poisoned and hospitalized to complete an important karmic cycle. Really the only explanation right? Maybe I'll try to accomplish this by continuing to take Benadryl and then drinking alcohol while in Vegas, thereby unintentionally roofy-ing myself.

Win.

A woman wants her cowboy like he wants his rodeo

You're probably thinking, "Really, we're done with the boy, aren't we done with country music?" but alas, no, because there's still so much "what the fuck were you thinking?" followed by "oh, wait, I see why you were suckered in" followed by me still living in the country which means that I drive around in my car yell-singing "I hate that stupid old pickup truck you never let me drive". (Yes, I just admitted to listening to a Taylor Swift song all the way through, please judge me, I would, the alien that sometimes controls my actions even does) Because I do hate that stupid old pickup truck he never let me drive, seriously, I hated the issue of whether or not I was allowed to drive it. This is never something I thought would come up in my dating life. I really wouldn't care except that he offered me his BMW to drive home one night when I wanted to head in before him (who lets someone drive their bimmer before their truck?) AND he had seen me drive the same exact truck (albeit older and belonging to my grandpa) on many occasions and would comment on how sexy he thought it was. Stupid country boy machismo. Lame sauce.

Back on track, I don't know if I actually ever stated this a year ago in my blog, but my plan after breaking up with Jacob was to remain single for a while. I hear this is the reasonable thing to do if, a) you're ending a really long term relationship and b) you've spent more of your life in relationships than out of them and you're only 24 (or, at the time, 23).

There was no plan when I broke up with the boy, because we hadn't really been dating. I started the whole online dating plan in the period when we were still occasionally sleeping with each other and he was sleeping with other people because I had conversations with five people in two days in which they recommended online dating and Ms. Mae told me she thought the only reason I kept sleeping with the boy was because I was afraid that nothing better was ever going to come around. So I figured I might as well give it a go. Oddly, I'm really happy that I didn't go on any dates before telling the boy I had no interest in being friends or even talking to him anytime in the near future. I proved to myself that I could take that risk of not having anyone other than my incredibly loving and supportive friends and family and that I respected myself enough to not let the boy treat me like shit anymore.

(You might be asking why a woman of twenty four who has spent more time in relationships than out would ever be afraid of not finding someone and it would probably be a reasonable question. I don't know.  I guess I'm just insecure and human like that.)

This time 'round I feel the exact same way in a not at all sort of way. I realized as I was looking through OkC profiles and finding dealbreakers I didn't even know existed (Did you know there are still people that think Dan Brown is a legitimately good author?) like using commas instead of periods for ellipses (I think, why else would you put three commas at the end of every sentence?) that maybe I don't actually want to be in a relationship. I mean, I do. I want someone to bring me that giant bowl of mashed potatoes. But I only want it if it's amazing. I'd rather take the time to take a deep breath and figure out what the hell it is I want before I accidentally go on a date with somebody I've thought was a douchebag since about 8th grade and have the emotional rollercoaster ride of my life for the next ten months because it turns out, he is still a douchebag.

So let's figure it out by breaking it down; every other boy mentioned in this blog vs. the boy:

-Jacob: This would be my high school sweetheart. He's still one of my best friends; we watch project runway, look at cardigans and talk about video games. If I has to suddenly face some sort of major life crisis/event he's most likely the person I'm going to call. He is probably the reason music is such a big part of my life. His college major has changed from structural engineering (wait, or was it civil first?) to electrical engineering to architecture to, finally , math. I would not describe him as manly, but he can wire houses and use power tools, so that's something. An all around very nice, nerdy, well dressed (though it's taken some effort to find clothes to fit his 6'6" frame) guy. This is not at all relevant, but he has a Great Dane puppy named Charles that is the cutest thing ever and can probably already fit my whole head in his mouth.

-Just My Type Boy/The Boy's Best Friend: One of my best male friends growing up. He had a crush on me from sometime in middle school until possibly sometime in the past year, or now, I don't know. I've had crushes on him off and on that whole time. We talk about girls being stupid, video games, traveling and watch really bad movies (Like Conan the Barbarian). We've jokingly propositioned each other so many times that I'm fairly certain we've finally ended up in each other's friend zones. He was a biology major with a math minor. Despite being a seemingly oblivious sort of guy, he always know what to say to cheer me up; whether it be telling me I'm amazing or joining in on the self deprecation. I hear he can be a bit of an ass to date. He climbs a lot of rocks, so he looks pretty muscular and manly until he opens his mouth and you realize he's mostly a pretty nice, somewhat awkward, nerdy guy. He also has an adorable puppy, her name is Claudia.

-Charlie Trouble: In case you've somehow missed the me making out pantless in a bar posts, this would be the boy who I may have crushed on, impulsively slept with and broken the bed of while in New York. He might've announced to a bar that I was his future girlfriend and just didn't know it yet and suggested proposal as a method to keep me in New York. We were both inebriated for one of those statements and neither of us were for the other; I'll let you guess which. I feel like it would be a bit silly to write out a whole bit when I've just written about him. Let's just say one of his jackets has a WoW patch, he has a LotR tattoo, I told him I would marry him if he built me the Enterprise... I think you can see where this is going...

But if you want me to spell it out for you: I am a sucker for nerdy boys.

For serious.

(If I ever start a dating only blog I'm pretty sure it's going to have to be titled "Let's talk math baby, and could you be a little awkward about it?".)

-Ché/The Boy: Apparently had a crush on me from third grade until I broke his heart when he asked me to go to a dance in 6th or 7th grade. I don't remember this at all. We had all the same friends but were never particularly good friend with each other. Sometime in 8th grade this changed, probably around the time I called him a chauvinist ass and he called me a bitch. I have no recollection of why this happened, just that it did. I'm sure I had a good reason though. We mostly avoided each other freshman year of high school and then I transferred out of that god damn hick school to the fine/performing arts magnet and forgot he existed until he popped up in my people you might now thingy on facebook. I remember at one point in time thinking he was a nice enough intelligent sort of guy so maybe I was wrong about the whole chauvinist ass thing. We started writing each other daily. He bought me nice dinners, he has a nice car, he knows how to say all the right things he has the responsibility of taking care of things around his and his mother's ranch, he reads a lot, he once asked me if he looked homeless in all brown when he was wearing a very green shirt and he knows how to use a chainsaw. He was a history major, but mostly only likes the old white guy war stuff as far as I can tell. When he'd come home to find his roomie or best friend and me playing MarioKart he would make funof us. Our common interests include talking about our dead fathers, booze and sex. With a heavy emphasis on the booze and sex.

My friends, his friends and he have all stated that he must have been an incredibly long rebound/I was just going for the opposite end of the spectrum, but I think that's only 75% true.

Both of us have an odd, idealized love for country life. I'm not going to lie, it really does give me great joy to drive around in a giant truck blasting country music because it's just straight up fun, so is drinking by candlelight in the barn and being in a house full of people drunkenly shouting along to "Friends in Low Places". However, I do not want to do those things all the time. I like the environment so I like my fuel efficient car. I like going to indie rock shows. Also the ballet and museums. I'm a contradictory sort of girl.

But I think there's a part of me that's a sucker for the ideal of the educated, sensitive country boy. You know, he knows how to have a good time but he also can take care of his responsibilities. He appreciates food cooked from the plants and animals he's grown. He spends days with the woodsplitter so his mother can have firewood for the winter. He'll probably mostly make sure you're happy and you get what you want, but he's not a pushover. He can fix things And, obviously, he knows how to handle a gun when the zombie invasion comes 'round. (And yes, the boy is part of the constantly talking about the zombie invasion club.) This was the impression the boy gave me when we first started seeing each other. I am not actually a sucker for the country boy who wants to get drunk every single night, tells me I can be a god damn feminist as long as I still shave my legs and would like to be able to use his guns to shoot pretty much anyone that pissed him off.

The country boy image still appeals to me, but I'm pretty sure that if I have to choose my type, I'm going back to nerdy but preferably with some of those other qualities thrown in.

I would like a boy that is something like 75% nerdy, 15% country (I may settle for not a pushover and can fix things without actually being "country") and 10% hipster (alternatively, not actually hipster, but likes music a lot).

So basically, right now, I'm going to be ludicrously picky because I'm not in a hurry and I don't ever want to pretend it could possibly work with someone not even remotely my type again. I'm sure I'll relax my standards once I've been single long enough. Maybe I'll even stop judging people by their taste in authors and ability to write out full words (when hell freezes over) but I don't really know.

And the part where I feel exactly the same as last year...

Once again, how does this whole single thing work?

Somebody give me a god damn cookie... or a high five... or a glass of whiskey

Earlier this week I blocked the boy from my facebook news feed 'cause every time I read something he posted or comments he made to friends I realized how much he pissed me off.

Today his status was asking who was coming to a party at his house tomorrow. That's right, he's throwing a god damn party on my birthday. So now I have friends that are going to go out to dinner with me and then instead of hanging out or grabbing drinks, go to his house. I'm not sure if I'm more annoyed with him or my friends right now but I'm pretty sick of being perpetually pissed at him.

So he's finally been unfriended, that way I don't have to know about these things and I can't get angry.

Hopefully.

More later tonight. But now I'm going to clean my house, eat some cream of wheat and talk to my cat. 'Cause I'm a spinster like that.

The Boy, Part 3 (Sick to death of love and sick to death of trying)

This is where it actually starts to go down hill. This is the part I really don't know how to write about. Everything is tied up in anger and disappointment and so much of it is directed at myself. Every time I start to write I just feel embarrassed and ashamed. Ashamed that I've let him treat me the way he has. Embarrassed about my reaction.

Thursday was basically my own personal hell and I'm not even talking about family Thanksgiving, I'm talking about after I escaped and headed back out to the boy's.

I call on my way over and another friend answers his phone 'cause he's up at the house, I let her know I'll be there momentarily and as I go through the boy's gate my phone rings.

"Where are you?"

"I just told Cassie I was almost there"

"Get over here!"

"I'm in your driveway"

"Well hurry up"

"I'm in your frickin' driveway, I'll be there in a moment"

I hang up the phone, thinking, oh dear, I suspect I am joining this party on the late side, how intolerable is he going to be?

The answer is, incredibly.

Imagine the man that just a few days ago drove you to a town an hour away just because he knew you were missing some of your favorite foods, the man who was kissing you as you walk down the street, the man who told you he liked that you weren't interested in putting yourself out there, looking for a step up, the man who you comforted in his moments of vulnerability for the last two nights running around the house yelling "look at them titties" and groping one of your friends then periodically coming back to you and putting his arms around you and then periodically groping you and then loudly stating "I'm going to fuck you and it's going to be good" and then going back to running around groping more. At some point he also slaps the girl he's been groping and pulls the hair of another friend so hard she starts tearing up.

Sexy right? I really just wanted to jump right in bed with him. 

Imagine that his behavior is poor enough that all your friends are telling you he needs to go to bed. Remember, you're not his girlfriend, this kind of seems like a girlfriend responsibility. 

Finally he's on the couch, he's opened his computer but he's lying down.

"Time to go to bed, honey?"

"I just need to check my work schedule then lets go to bed and have sex"

"Ok, want some water?"

subtext: Even if you weren't way too drunk for sex, it wouldn't be happening tonight, asshat

"Yes, I love you"

"You're drunk"

"I love you"

"I love you too"

I make him drink a half gallon of water while he's looking up when he needs to go to work, he keeps telling me he loves me.

He says goodnight to everyone.

"Wait, Alana, you don't have to go with him, stay with us, you shouldn't go with him"

He gets into bed with all his clothes on.

"Hey, let me at least get your pants off, you'll sleep better"

"You should take the rest of my clothes off and you should get nekkid"

I climb into bed next to him, figuring he's going to pass out momentarily.

"I love you"

"I love you too, but you're very drunk right now"

"I still love you"

"How was your Thanksgiving?"

"Pretty fucked actually"

"I'm sorry, I know the holidays suck"

"Not if you don't let them"

I'm pretty sure his method of not letting them is not effective. If not letting them suck equals getting belligerently drunk, and failing at pretending I'm happy, I'll just let them suck some.

"It's hard, the holidays are my favorite time of year, they still suck"

"How can you like me? I'm such an ass, I've fucked up so many times. You are everything that is sweet and compassionate and good and pure"

Oh god, we have to have this conversation? Why do we have to have this conversation every time he's drunker than me? I am not an angel.

"Because you are loving and compassionate. Because when we're on our own you're sweet and vulnerable and fun to be around"

"No I'm not, I'm still the asshole you always thought I was. The sooner you realize that and leave me, the happier you'll be"

I don't say anything, I'm starting to tear up, the whole week has been such an emotional roller coaster, I'm exhausted, I just don't want to fight, I don't want to talk about things, I don't want drama.

"We're just such different people, and we each have our own lives and I just don't know"

"I like it that way, I thought that's what you wanted too. I'm not ready to have my life tied up in somebody else's again"

"Isn't that what you're doing?"

Wait, didn't he just say we have our own lives? Oh right, I'm trying to have a sane conversation with a crazy drunk person.

"What? No. How is my life tied to yours?"

A while later...

"I love you"

"Yeah, you keep saying that, I love you too"

"I do love you. It's just you want love to be this big monogamous thing and I don't want that"

And that's when I burst into tears. Not because he's right but because I'm exhausted and he's wrong and I can't ever seem to explain to him what I want from our relationship effectively and I just don't want to deal with it anymore.

"Dammit, I should've just kept my big mouth shut"

I turn away from him, sobbing.

"I love you"

And I need to get the hell out of that room. I pull myself together.

"Don't worry about it, honey, I'm fine. Just go to sleep."

"mmhmm"

He's already most of the way gone.

"I'm going to go hang out with everyone for a little bit, ok?"

"'kay, I love you"

I go back into the living room.

"Are you ok?"

I burst into tears.

I don't burst into tears in rooms full of people. There are people I've known my whole life that have never seen me cry. I just don't. But I did.

I bury my head in Cassondra's shoulder.

"What did he say to you?"

"He just keeps telling me he loves me. I'm crying because he won't stop telling me he loves me. That's the stupidest reason to cry ever"

"It's not stupid"

"He never tells me he loves me"

"Alana, if you were mine I would tell you I love you and am lucky to have you every day, that boy doesn't deserve you"

I wipe my eyes and attempt to join the party.

And drink.

And drink.

And then it's just Ben and I and I'm near tears again.

"It's like he want a girlfriend as long as he doesn't have to be a boyfriend"

"I think that's fairly accurate. I mean, let's face it, the guy's been an asshole lately, I'm kind of glad I'm moving to Texas just to get away from all this"

It's 2:30 a.m. and there's a knock on the door. One of the boy's college buddies and a magnum (maybe double magnum, does such a thing exist?) of beer that will feature in part four of this installment, ( 'cause it's getting late and this part is taking a lot longer than I thought it would).

"What the hell?! I thought you weren't coming until Saturday?"

"I texted Che and said I was coming at 3"

"He didn't say anything about it, he passed out a while ago"

It is later revealed that the text read "see you at three" which the boy though meant he was showing up at three on Saturday.

"I should really get going, goodnight you guys"

"'Night Ben. Want me to try and wake him up"

"Sure, take the beer with you"

I attempt to wake him up just enough so he can say hi but he's out cold so I go back into the living room.

Kyle has opened a beer so I pour myself another. We chat for a while, he asks me about the evening. A little while later the boy's roommate comes in and joins us.

"Where've you been?"

"I fell asleep after Thanksgiving, I just woke up"

More chatting, she goes back out to her boathouse and goes to sleep.

I'm still drinking. Yes, really.

Around 3:30 a.m. the boy stumbles out of his room in just his boxers.

"Kyle? What the hell? Let me put some clothes on, I figured it was just the girls"

He comes back out, fully dressed. I find another bottle of wine. More drinking more talking. And if you're wondering if I"m not being specific because my memory is a little hazy, wonder no more. I vaguely remember that I must have been somewhat amusing  because the boy kept saying "See why I love this girl?" and smiling at me in the "you're amazing" sort of way. He makes me promise I'll take Kyle wine tasting the next day before going back to bed. Kyle and I start talking again and somehow it turns into talking about whether or not everyone can be rehabilitated and if there are people that can't be should they get the death penalty and I'm getting passionate and upset and Kyle has taken my hands in his as I'm getting increasingly closer to tears again. I find myself thinking "this boy's pretty cute and sweet and I'm still pretty pissed off at Che and don't really want to go get in bed with him..." and then "Alana! Really? You don't actually want to sleep with other people, it's 4 in the morning don't make a stupid drunk decision" We talk for a while longer, I get more and more agitated.

"I'm sorry, this is actually upsetting you, you can't treat it as a hypothetical, can you? I don't want to upset you, it's late, we should go to bed"

I remember walking towards the bedroom doors.

Apparently I undressed before getting into bed. Apparently I also had sex twice. Yeah, I blacked out sex. Feeling pretty awesome about myself. Really really awesome.

I wake up to the boy hopping out of bed.

"Time to get ready for work, rise and shine darling"

"I don't have to go to work, let me sleep"

"Ok, but remember you promised to take Kyle wine tasting"

I groan

"I love you, beautiful. I'll kiss you goodbye before I leave"

"love you too"

A while later he brings me a cup of coffee. It's sweet but I really just want to sleep.

"Thanks, you're amazing, I love you"

"Love you too gorgeous"

Dear God, why won't he just let me sleep? Why are we still saying I love you? I'm still angry. He's being so sweet. What has happened? My head hurts, I just want to sleep more...

And I swear my next post will tie up this drama.

And it's just bad news, bad news, bad news

Things you might be asking yourselves (because I know, internet friends, that you totally think about me when you're not reading my blog):

Where has she been?

Did she decide to have a relationship talk with the boy?

Is she slowly melting into a giant puddle of uncertainty?

And hey... whatever happened to just my type boy?

Hold onto your horses because we're about to go on an exciting adventure called "Why the hell are people so fucking insane?!" and answer all these questions. I know, you just can't wait.

So when I'm at the boy's house a lot I don't do much blogging because a) for obvious reasons, he doesn't know this blog exists b) his internet connection is through the 3G network and is spotty and slow and I can't use my own laptop so I do all my checking up on the internetz with my iphone (which is somehow faster even though it's an old one so it's on Edge...) and c) well actually it's really all about "a". So that's where I've been. 

***

Did I make the mistake of talking to the boy and trying to nail down what exactly our relationship was? Yes. Did it turn into a big dramatic multiple hour long talk? Do I really need to answer that- have you not figured out how much the boy likes to blow everything out of proportion? All I really wanted to establish with the talk was that we were in some form of vaguely committed relationship. I didn't need to talk about the future, I didn't want more than the in between friends with benefits and dating thing we had going on. I just wanted to confirm that we were on the same page.

Bits and pieces:

"So you said you wanted to talk. I assume you want to take things to the next level."

"Actually I just wanted to talk about why I've been so crazy emotional and insecure the last few days"

And then I start tearing up slightly. I haven't said anything yet and I'm already crying. Awesome.

"Dammit."

"It's ok, you can be emotional in front of me."

"Yeah,but I hate being this crazy emotional. It doesn't matter who it's in front of. Anyways... So, you dumped me two months ago pretty definitely and conclusively"

"Yeah."

"But now we're sleeping together again and I think the reason I'm so crazy is I'm just confused as all fuck. Where are we relationship wise? What the hell are we doing? What do you want?"

"What do you want?"

Uh oh. Deflecting the question back at me, this is not going to be a short easy conversation.

"Mostly, I want to know where you stand and what you want."

I will not be sidetracked, I am determined, I will get a god damn answer from this boy if I have to handcuff him to the bed and only feed him bread and water.

"Well you know I don't want to go full on commitment. But I really really want you in my life. If that means we have to stop sleeping together, I'll deal with it."

I put my head on his chest and try not to cry some more.

"Look, I'm not very emotionally stable. I'm terrified of commitment. It's funny, I never was until last year. I'm dealing with my father issues. If you want stability and certainty, I can't promise that right now. So what do you want? Do you want to keep doing this?"

I sit silently, trying to figure out what I want. Do I want a relationship, in which case I need to move on or do I want to keep being with the boy. Is this settling? I told myself I wouldn't settle. But I can't both be with the boy and have a relationship relationship so what do I do? What do I say?

"Why don't you think about it when  you're not in my arms."

"I've already thought about it a lot."

"Did you come to any conclusions?"

"No."

We both laugh.

"I want to be with you. I just want to know clearly where I stand."

"This isn't going to eat you up inside? You're sure?"

I kiss him in response. More kissing ensues. And you know talking leads to touching, touching leads to sex and then there is no mystery left. Or then you're lying in bed and you're emotions are eating away at you and your lover can tell.

"This is going to make you miserable. We shouldn't have had sex."

"What does sex have to do with it?"

"Because everything seemed fine and then we had sex and now you're upset again."

"We were going to have sex again sooner or later and I was going to be miserable again sooner or later. I'm just still not really clear on what exactly you want."

"We shouldn't do this, it's going to ruin both of us"

I pull away and sit facing the wall. He slams his hand against the dresser and angrily starts getting dressed.

"I can't give you what you want, you can't give me what I want. We just shouldn't do this. This is just so fucked up. I'm sorry."

Angry, he's angry that it's not working. I stand up and attempt to calm him down. I tell him most of the time I'm incredibly happy, I just have doubts because I'm unsure of what he wants. I just want to know. We can make it work if we just talk to each other. It's not that terrible or fucked up. Trust me, I've been in one really fucked relationship and that's all you need to have to be able to recognize one.

"I want a close friend who can handle all my emotional drama and a lover. But I don't want a relationship. You want a relationship."

"I'm unclear on the difference between what you want and a relationship."

"I just want things to be casual, I don't want the expectations."

"So what have we been doing?"

"Something in between"

"So, if you don't want a relationship why have you been all lovey since you got back from Europe?"

"Because we haven't been in a relationship, obviously I'm happier not in a relationship"

Yes, you read that right. When we're not officially in a relationship he kisses me in public, stays near me at parties and talks about the future but when we are he avoids those things like the plague. Seriously, WHAT THE FUCK?

"We're not in a relationship, we're just two really close friends not sleeping with other people?"

"I don't know about the not sleeping with other people part, that feels too much like a relationship"

"Isn't that what we were already doing?"

"Well I kind of thought you were sleeping with Jacob"

"What?!"

"Well you spend so much time with him"

"Yeah, 'cause he was my best friend for six years. You spend most of your time with girls you've slept with and it doesn't mean you're sleeping with them currently"

"Yeah but that's different, it already happened, it was in the past"

Huh? Really? He thought I was just casually sleeping with someone I dated for YEARS? I'm pretty sure that's something I would mention. Also, and I'm about to get way more TMI than even I usually do, having unprotected sex with me? I'm sorry, but that just kind of freaks me out. If I had known we weren't necessarily monogamous, that would not have been ok.

And eventually we talked things out, established that I was not ok with an open relationship and decided we would just step things down a little from where they had gotten and everything seemed a-ok. Then the next morning I got a facebook message asking me not to come to the birthday/boatwarming party at his house that night because he wasn't feeling that well and he didn't want to be stressed about the things we talked about and the people he was throwing it for weren't the people I was close with anyways...  Could we go out later in the week, just the two of us to make up for it blah blah blah... and of course it pissed me off. Most of my friends were going to be there, they all thought I was coming and bringing a cake. But I said fine, I don't want push, give him some space and just fumed the whole day at work. I got home exhausted in every way possible. Just dead fucking tired and drained. I sat down on my bed and all the anxiety, all insecurity I had had since about a week before the boy got back from Europe just left. I don't know what happened. But for the first time in over a month I felt calm. Just calm and fine.

I realized I didn't want a serious relationship with him. At least not right now. And I never really have. It's always been him to bring up traveling together or hypothetical children or what we'll be like as a crazy old couple. I've always just kind of wanted to try to be open with him, to not prejudge what our relationship would be and just see where things go. I was fine with being close friends and lovers as long as that was what he clearly wanted also.

He sent me a text around 3 am that just said "Fuck it. I love you. You should be here. I'm so sorry".

I have a spotty cell service at home so when he found out I hadn't gotten it yet he told me I should just delete it without reading it. Not that I would have, but you can't do that on an iPhone anyways. When I asked him why he didn't want me to read it he just said "I don't want to be the crazy boy". I didn't say anything because obviously, he's the crazy boy.

And things went back to normal. He was super sweet and lovey. We spent time together. He suggested that when we both have more money we go away together for a weekend. Then, on Halloween, I came over and he told me that he was just feeling super cranky and wanted to hide away from the world. I was feeling pretty crappy myself and just wanted to snuggle up on the opposite end of the couch and watch t.v. with him but he said he wanted to be alone, so I left.

I called a couple of days later to ask if he was in any better spirits and if there was any way I could help his mood improve and he never called back. He didn't call me to see if I was feeling better. It pissed me off a little. I feel like that's not even a couple thing. It's just a general friend thing. Somebody leaves your house feeling shitty, you generally check in with them in the next couple of days to make sure they're feeling better or to offer them soup or something. Right? Am I crazy?

He didn't come out Tuesday night for cheap pint night and that's when I discovered all of our friends (who, for the most part, used to just be his friends) were pissed off with him. Why? I guess he's been jerks to most of them in some way since he got back from Europe or they're just sick of hearing him whine. He's been pretty damn whiney lately (he has a broken foot and refuses to take pain meds, but that's just the beginning..). And they're all pissed off about the way he treats me. They all don't know why I put up with him and think I've been way patient and way nicer than he deserves. And when I told them about our last relationship conversation, the differences between the way he acts and the things he says, they all just kept encouraging me and telling me that I was way more part of the group right now than he was and that he's an idiot and he should stop acting like he wants a girlfriend and then freaking out when presented with someone who fits the description of what he claims he wants and gives him chance after chance.

And it was good to just vent and not feel like I was the crazy one. It was great to finally come to the realization that there was really nothing I could do, that the every six week rejection wasn't my fault. From an outsider's perspective I wasn't doing everything wrong all the time, I have the patience of a saint and he was just as confusing to them. I realized that if things ended, I really do have a strong social group and I won't just sit at home alone and miserable.

But of course that all threw me straight back into bitterness and confusion. No anxiety this time. Just anger. And then regret.

And this is where just my type boy comes into play, so we're going to sidetrack from this story a little.

The night I started sleeping with the boy again, I was supposed to hang out with just my type boy. I got off work and I was waiting for him to get out of a movie and call me. It was around 9:15 when I got off work and when the movie should've gotten out so I waited a little longer and then called him, he didn't answer (little did I know that his phone had fallen out of his pocket while he was at the top of the climbing wall and broken earlier that day) and as I was leaving a message I got a text from the boy. "I'm back, what are you up to?". So I called him to see what he wanted and he asked if I wanted to come over and get the present he had brought me from Europe. I figured I might as well, it was towards the neck of the woods I wanted to go to ish and if things were weird, hopefully just my type boy would call me and I'd have an excuse to leave.

All I wanted that night was to go over to just my type boy's house, cook some food with him, snuggle up on the couch and watch a bad movie and finally kiss him. Really, that was how I wanted that evening to go. I was tired, my grandpa had just started radiation and emotions we're running high in my house, just my type boy and I had been playing phone tag all week and he had left me the "I miss your amazing smile" message. But his phone broke and he doesn't know anyone's cell phone number and none of the people he was with had my number and, honestly, he can be a little unreliable. He went out to Ru ssian River Brewery and hung out with his climbing buddies and my dreams for that night were never realized.

What happened instead? The boy told me he missed having me around. He told me he was lonely because everyone had left on his first night back and would I like to spend the night- it didn't have to be anything we could just snuggle. He talked about how hard it was for him to be away for the anniversary of his father's death. And of course I hugged him and told him I was so sorry (and didn't say anything about him dumping me a week before the anniversary of my father's death and claiming we could still talk and be friends and then not contacting me until he was in another country and feeling sad and alone) and I agreed to stay the night. It was obvious at a certain point that just my type boy wasn't going to call and I also just really wanted to snuggle up next to somebody and not be alone. He asked me if I was sure I was ok with it. I said yes. I wasn't sure. But when he told me he missed having me around, when I curled up in bed next to him, I melted a little. And of course he kissed me. And you can imagine what that lead to.

I was lying there in bed, wondering what it all meant, thinking maybe it was just sex when this conversation happened

"This sure isn't how I thought this night would end."

"Me neither, I mean I hoped... I... I've been thinking about this for the last month."

"Funny, I've been trying really hard not to think about this."

"I'm sorry."

And from that moment I was plunged into the crazy confusion of trying to figure out what he wants and what I want.

He fell asleep and I stayed awake for a while wondering what I had just done, if it had been the right choice, if I'd rather be back with him than with just my type boy, if now everything was going to be fucked up with just my type boy and I decided the he would've called me if he had really wanted to see me, that maybe I had just read the whole situation incorrectly, that I would just see what the boy wanted and figure it out.

And this week I went back to wondering, what if he had called that night? Or what if I had had the strength to say no to the boy? I'm not much of one for regrets, but even before last night (which we'll get to soon) I was thinking I made the wrong choice that night. I could've talked to just my type boy the next day, I would've found out what happened and maybe I'd be in a calm, stable relationship with a boy I've been crushing on since the 8th grade instead of dealing with all this constant drama and confusion. I realized I really missed him. We haven't spent much time together since the boy got back and the last few times the boy was obviously annoyed with/jealous of the way we tease and joke around with each other. One night I had just given just my type boy a hug goodnight and he was trying to convince me to stay up and hang out even though the boy had gone to bed. He was sitting in a chair and had his arm around my waist still and I had mine over his shoulders. The boy walked into the room and gave us a look that made just my type boy take his arm away from me faster than a bat out of hell.

An emotional dramatic conversation ensued (the boy was drunk and feeling insecure) that the boy would've given me hell for the next day if our roles had been reversed.

But the more I think about it the more I feel like a really shitty person. The fact that I haven't called him, haven't tried to hang out with him after spending so much time together for so many weeks- if I were him I would think that I had been using him, or leading him on, that he was just my choice when his best friend was gone.

But that's not true.

A few weeks ago, late night at the ranch, in the back of the truck with friends looking at the stars. The boy starts talking about people who don't believe in killing other people being soft, and not just super hardcore pro death penalty talk but shooting someone you get into a heated argument with. Of course it turned into everyone against him and I was trying really hard to bite my tongue, especially when religion started coming into play (he doesn't believe in the inherent worth and dignity of every person, and I may be an extremely irregular church goer, but I'm a pretty strong believer in Unitarian Universalist principles) and I know there were things he was saying just to try to get in a fight with me specifically. Then just my type boy voiced my opinion perfectly "If you don't believe in anything after this life, what give you the right to take it away from someone? Doesn't that make this even more sacred?" and at that moment, I just thought, "Oh fuck, I'm with the wrong boy, the right one has been here all along and I am an idiot".

So that's it, I am an idiot.

Last night the boy told me he had met someone and kind of wanted to start seeing her. Five minutes previously we had been sitting on the couch snuggling, he had been smiling at me and having me feed him spoonfuls of my cous cous. He had opened a bottle of wine and we were watching a movie. . I thought maybe I had just been crazy earlier in the week. He went to take out the trash, came back and just straight up told me he wanted to start seeing somebody else. I got up and started collecting all my stuff from around the house.

"I'm sorry"

"Am I correct in assuming this means you are ending our not relationship?"

"Well there's somebody else I want to sleep with. I'm sorry"

He said the second I'm sorry with the kind of helpless shrug and expression you use when you mean "what can you do?" and aren't really sorry.

The way he said the last statement made it very much seem like the undertext was "you didn't want an open relationship, so this is your fault, we could still be sleeping together otherwise".

I wanted to scream. I wanted to slap him.

I hugged him and took my stuff to the car. Called one of our friends and went over to her house. And bitched. And drank wine. And bitched. Apparently he called her while I was on the way over. She ignored his call. She's possibly even more pissed at him than I am. (God it feels good to have friends on your side!)

I'm not going to lie, I'm still angry. But I'm not really upset about the not being with him, I was already pissed off and regretting the relationship. I'm angry that I didn't get to do it first. Angry that I'll probably never actually confront him about how much he was the crazy boy, about the things I put up with, of course, yet again, about the shitty ass way he went about ending it. 

And I'm angry with myself because I feel like I so totally fucked things up with just my type boy. Angry that I got sucked into the excitement of crazy emotions and drama instead of going with something sweet and comfortable. Now if I call him, tell him I miss hanging out with him, it'll just seem like I want him around when I'm upset or when I don't have the boy.

I am full up with regret.

So just leave the pieces when you go

This post was going to be called "This shit is getting serious, y'all". It was going to be about the way he smiled at me when he asked me to buy coffee one morning a few weeks ago since "you're going to be drinking it anyways". About him coming home from a bad day at work and smiling and laughing as he covered me in kisses and when I asked him "what?" his response was more kisses and "this is just so much better than work". The way we fell asleep snuggled up together, holding hands every night. The way he'd sometimes turn the light back on for a minute, just to be able to look at me. Basically I was going to let you know that our relationship was so disgustingly sweet, it would make a kitten riding a unicorn into the sunset on a rainbow trail blush.

I was going to write that it seemed too good to be true.

Because apparently, it fucking was.

He was sweet and adorable right up to the moment when he told me he was on the fence about the romantic part of our relationship and that therefor we probably shouldn't be doing this anymore.

I am officially a naive idiot.

Let's set the scene.

It's Thursday morning, we wake up, he kisses me, says "good morning", we hop in the shower, get dressed, sit down to drink our coffee and then "wham!".

He just goes ahead and hits me with "So I have to admit, darling, I haven't been that happy with our relationship. I think you're wonderful and I've loved having you around these last few weeks. You're my best friend right now, I mean you're more than a best friend but when it comes to the romantic part of our relationship, I'm on the fence. I really really want you to still be in my life, I don't think that'll be a problem since you're around here now but I don't think we should be sleeping together anymore. I know we've tried this before but I'm about to leave for a month and maybe with some time and space it'll work out".

I mumble "ok" into my coffee cup.

"I love you and you're so sweet to me and I'm... I'm an asshole. It's just you're not quite what I look for in a romantic relationship and I think if we're on the fence maybe we shouldn't be doing this."

"I'm not on the fence. I'm really not on the fence," I say holding back tears with a halfhearted smile.

"Oh... I guess I mean if "I'm on the fence," then... That being said, if you need to use my kitchen to bake today you can and you're more than welcome to continue staying here when you need to get away."

"I just have to sleep on the couch."

"No you can keep sleeping in the bed if you're comfortable with it, I just don't think we should have sex."

I think I just stared at him blankly and said that I would like to use the kitchen to bake in response to that statement. I really didn't know what to do with it.

"I'm not saying this isn't great. It is, I just feel like it could be so much better."

"I have to go to the store, I'll be back in a couple of hours."

And then I left. And came back. And baked for twelve hours straight. His friends (some of which are legitimately my friends since I've know them for forever, independently of him) comforted me, played video games with me during my breaks from baking and agreed that he made stupid, nonsensical decisions and encouraged me to be angry and discouraged me from thinking it was in any way my fault or trying to rationalize. I believe the phrase "who knows what goes through Che's mind?" was repeated about once every half hour. It was kind of fantastic.

I was waaay too exhausted from baking to drive home so I attempted to pass out in the loft in his room around midnight, before he got back from work. Unfortunately the loft futon is rock hard and even if it hadn't been I still probably wouldn't have been able to sleep. It was one of those nights of lying there wishing I could just start sobbing so I could finally, finally fall into oblivion.

Two hours later I went to go join everyone in the living room watching "Die Hard". Che and I mostly ignored each other. He went to bed. Half an houri-sh later I decided to attempt sleep. I climbed back into the loft, he was snoring so didn't notice. At one point in the night as I was leaving the room to go pee (I decided it was a good idea to drink two cups of peppermint tea before going back to bed, which, if you have to climb up and down a pretty tall loft ladder to pee in the night, it isn't) he said "hey" to me softly, like he wanted to start a conversation but he didn't say anything more when I came back. 

So there I was, lying awake in the loft, listening to him toss and turn and snore. If I were a normal person, I would've found the snoring aggravating. But instead it just made me wish I was in bed, curled up next to him. It took every inch of my willpower to not take him up on the offer of still sleeping in his bed. To not accept the comfort I knew it would give me and I knew he would offer. 

In the morning I managed some smiles and banter but as I collected my stuff from around the house I felt closer and closer to the point of breaking. I didn't want to take all of my baking stuff because I wasn't going home immediately and I didn't want a kitchenaid sitting in my car. I asked if it was ok to grab the rest of my stuff later in possibly the most down trodden pathetic tone ever and he just looked at me and said "of course, it's fine, don't stress about anything" and I wanted to punch him for being so fucking pitying and nice.

I was supposed to go back that night for a friend's birthday party. I didn't. The cake was already in the fridge. I had seen the friend Thursday night on his actual birthday.

I might just wait until after he leaves for Europe to go get everything. Or I'll go while he's at work.

Even if everyone insists that they still want me to come out to the ranch and hang out and even if the boy really still wants me in his life, I don't think I can this time. This time I don't even have the vaguest desire to try. To hang out with the rest of the gang? Yes. To attempt friendship with the boy I'm totally head over heels in love with? No fucking way.

I don't care if I'd only have to plaster on a fake smile for a week.

I don't care that it's almost the anniversary of my father's death and his father's death and we could probably really use each others' shoulders right now.

I don't care that I'm his best friend and he loves me.

He let me live with him. He let me believe he was happy and he loved me. He let me cook him dinner, clean his house, take care of his dog and comfort him after his crazy 12 hour days.

I feel so fucking taken advantage of and betrayed.

I don't think a month of him being away in Europe is going to do the trick.

Of course, the only appropriate thing to do was use a country song for the title...

I can see what's coming but I'm not saying it

In case you've lost track, the boy and I are on take 3. Yes, really, take 3. You'd think I'd have learned my lesson by now. Apparently I'm a glutton for punishment.

Now, I'm not going to lie, the boy is kind of an asshole. He's not a "nice guy" but he's also not a total douchebag idiot. He's the charming variety of asshole. And I'm nothing, if not a sucker for charming assholes.

Mr. Darcy? Capt. Malcolm Reynolds? Han Solo? Any character Robert Downey Jr. has ever played, but especially Tony Stark?

Yes, please.

The last time I talked to him in person was Thursday. Friday he ignored my attempts to contact him. Saturday he sent me a text saying he was annoyed that I had come over while he was at work without asking and we could talk about it when he was sober. The reason I went over to his house? I was dropping off a can of coffee that he had asked me to refill for him. His roommate and some friends were over so I stayed and talked to them for a while. I also did his dishes. And cleaned his disgustingly crusty stove. It's been about a month since our last relationship crisis, so of course the boy's reaction to this would be that I'm a needy, interfering, terrible girlfriend. At least, I can only assume that's his reaction since he hasn't made an attempt to talk to me and, presumably, he was sober at some point in the last four days.

Now let's backtrack a bit to last weekend/the beginning of the week. I was in the process of moving. I had no bed for a few days so I slept in his. Did he mind this encroachment into his space? No, not in the least. In fact, he was being ridiculously cute and not letting me take my toothbrush home and insisting there was no urgency in setting up my lovely room in my grandparents' barn. He snuggled close and got me whatever I asked for when I woke up at 6 am with a migraine and every time I opened my eyes it was to see him smiling at me. He kissed me sweetly on the cheek anytime either of us shifted enough to wake the other in the night. He reminded me he still needed to meet my grandma.

 If we rewind a bit more we get to a conversation wherein he suggested that we find somewhere to live together so neither of us had to live on our family's properties (this was a conversation I wanted to continue in the light of the cold, sober morning but never quite had the nerve to bring up). Around this time is also when the "l word" started to lightly pepper our conversations. All signs point towards "w00t," right? Am I crazy?

Obviously, I should've been totally aware that it was time for him to find something to freak out about so we could break up for a week and then I could wait until he thinks of an excuse to see me. So far excuses have included seeing Star Trek (he later 'fessed up it was his second time seeing it, he just really wanted a reason to see me) and asking if I wanted to come over and pick up a cookbook on a weekend he knew I would be up this way. I have yet to even see said cookbook.

It's oddly fascinating to date somebody who goes back and forth on the issue of commitment vs. freedom even more than I do.

So why do I keep dating the boy that actually asked me one night why I liked such an asshole?

My response to him was "In case you haven't noticed, I'm kind of a bitch".

But in all seriousness, that's part of it. I'm ok with him being somebody that states his opinions a little too forcefully, judges people a little to harshly, controls things a little too tightly, because it's all up front. It's all brutally honest and it all could just as easily describe me. At the same time, I know he's a sweet, loving person that would do anything for his friends and puts other's needs or wants in front of his own to the point where he's run ragged. He may be an asshole, but he's an asshole who (most of the time) I can respect.

The other part is that I'm happy when I'm around him. I want to be a better version of myself. I can relax. The power balance shifts back and forth and it doesn't pain me to let go of the reins.

I stay with him because I know what he's going through. I stay with him because I know I'm not the easiest person to date either. My emotions rollercoaster, I blame others for my own inability to commit, I use stupid things as excuses to push people away. I flirt and I tease. Sometimes I'm overly guarded. I really like domesticity but want to be able to live my own life and make my own decisions. I'd rather push myself past the extremes of my capabilities than ask for help. I'm harsh and prideful. I'm damaged goods.  I'm a person and I'm not perfect and, for whatever reason, I'm ok with him seeing those parts of me. I'm not ashamed.

There are parts of our relationship that I'm not happy with. I don't remember when the last time we went on a date was. He's willing to make plans with everybody except me. How much he's been drinking lately kind of freaks me out. I'm never entirely clear on how serious a relationship he wants because I don't think he ever is for more than five minutes.

And of course, every time he's annoyed with me, he doesn't tell me, he just doesn't talk to me for a few days.

I must be crazy.

Put your hands on the wheel, let the golden age begin

Yeah, I know, I just wrote about a grief a little while ago. But the fucker keeps coming up.

This is possibly the problem with seeing someone (and yeah, I'm kind of seeing the boy again... but that's another entry) who is currently going through the whole fun grieving process.

It's also the problem with watching television anywhere near father's day. It's like a whole series of commercials saying "Hey, guess what? YOU WILL NEVER SEE YOUR FATHER AGAIN".

I mean seriously, what's the chance an Atheist Jew and his not actually Jewish (it's passed through the mother, you know) Unitarian, Tibetan Buddhism liking daughter are going to end up in the same place after this life? I'm leaning towards "not very high".

It's also the problem with just generally watching movies and television. It seems like everyone has a dead parent or some child's parent dies right off the bat and, even if the show or movie isn't very good, I immediately start to feel a little something in the corner of my eye (to quote Wil Wheaton). Or I get angry. Sometimes I get angry at the characters because they continue blithely on with their lives in a completely unbelievable manner. Sometimes I get angry with friends who think the character doing something outrageous is totally unlikely. It turns out, I will defend the most unlikable character, doing the most heinous of acts if their parent just died. Because grief is like love- it makes you do the wacky, and if you haven't been there, you really just don't know.

And yes, I did just quote both Wil Wheaton and Buffy. Have I mentioned that I'm awesome?

Ultimately, the thing I have the hardest time remembering, is the trite but true "we all grieve differently". Recently, watching Beverly Hills: 90210 (yeah, Lara and I are that cool, we've made it to the beginning of season eight) Lara and I were fairly amused when Clare and Steve got into an argument because he thought a drive up the coast might be a nice way to take her mind off Mother's Day. I believe Clare says something along the lines of "I'm talking about real, serious grief here and all you can suggest is a drive up the coast?" in her masterfully acted, disdainful manner. Now, this is probably, in and of itself, not at all amusing to you, but to us, it was kind of hilarious. Why? Because the only way I know how to deal with any heavy emotion, especially relating to my father, is to drive up the coast. So Clare's all freaking out, and we're supposed to be thinking Steve is ridiculous and instead I'm thinking "Man, I wish Steve Sanders was my boyfriend" (except I don't, 'cause mostly he's kind of a douche, and the boy totally took me to the beach and stared at the ocean with me on my father's birthday without thinking I was being crazy at all. I probably don't need to replace him with a fictional character. Unless, of course, Mr. Darcy becomes available). But part of that is because I spent a lot of time just driving on 1 with my father. So for me, it's a way to remember him and also a way to just totally become focused on the road, or the ocean and not think about anything else for a while. It's comforting. But to Clare Arnold (or a real person, for that matter) it might not be. It might sound like the stupidest way of dealing with things ever.

I won't tell you what the boy did when he found out his father was dieing, but trust me, it was stupid, it terrified me a little when he told me and, yet, I totally understood the impulse. And that terrified me a little more.

For me, it's also something I really don't want to discuss in a very personal manner with anyone but my closest of friends and family members (and the entire internet- but if you met me face to face, we wouldn't have this conversation, trust me).

The boy went to his father's best friend's wedding this weekend. When he told me about it, he just said "It was so weird. It was like the memorial all over again. All these people who knew my father, and knew who I was, that I'd never met coming up to me and repeating 'I'm sorry for your loss' and I just kept thinking 'I don't know you, I don't really want to talk to you about it'".

That's something the boy and I agree on absolutely. It's such a frustrating useless phrase coming from strangers. I know, peoples' hearts are in the right place. It's just, they either knew the person well and are dealing with the same loss as you or they didn't and you just don't really want to hear it. Because in those moments when you feel loss most acutely, the rest of the world doesn't really matter and it seems like everybody else is just trying to invade your privacy.

Of course, what was the first thing I said when the boy told me his father had recently passed away?

 "Oh god, I'm so sorry".

And he of course started in on the "mumble, mumble, coping, glossing over" until I said "No, I really, truly am, my father died when I was sixteen" and the glossing over turned into the heartbreakingly honestly inflected "oh, so you know" that basically admitted the last sentence was a total lie.

Yeah, so I know.

At least, I like to think I do.

But every now and again, I realize, maybe I really don't.

Fuck you and your untouchable face

So I've moved onto anger. Let me tell you, it feels great. It feels a lot better than feeling mopey and pathetic and "please take me back-y". Nothing better than self righteousness right?

I went through a period today of thinking the best thing would be to pretend the last three months didn't happen. Then I went through a period of thinking that the healthiest thing would be to pretend that Sunday didn't happen.

But then I thought about why Sunday was really what was breaking my heart and I started to get really, really pissed off. At one point during the break up he said to me "We were going to have this conversation yesterday, but then when you said it was your dad's birthday I just couldn't do it blah blah blah high note better blah blah blah".

A) I totally told him that I was acting crazy that week because Sunday was my father's birthday on Friday evening, actually we had a whole conversation Friday night about the issues each of us were having with our relationship. However, he was drunk and I was tipsy and I insisted we shouldn't have the conversation until we were sober and he insisted we should so it's not surprising he didn't remember. Actually he has a horrible memory sober as well, but I think he would've remembered that one. I thought he had remembered that one.

B) What the fuck? He spent a day with me at my most vulnerable saying sweet nothings, talking about the future, using words like "fate", kissing me and holding me, making eyes at me over dinner whenever his mother wasn't looking, asking me to stay the night even though it would mean at least an hour drive in the morning, and AND sex. (Yeah, I'm sharing that with the internet. I'm sure you're shocked.) Sure, all the other opening up myself, emotional vulnerability crap hurts like hell, makes me angry as hell but the sex part, in retrospective, is kind of gross. "Icky" and "sleazy" as others have put it. Knowing Che, had this happened to one of his female friends, he'd probably go hunt the guy down, punch him in the face and remind the guy that he has guns and he better not hurt his friend again (yeah, we're very different people) and he would not at all take into consideration that maybe the guy wasn't sure what he wanted or thought he was making the better choices. Che tends to think in reactionary, overprotective, absolutes. If only I had a friend like him right now to go threaten him and punch him in the face...

(Ok, there's a chance I would get all angry and feminist on that friend but even leftist, pacifist, feminists like me have their limits when their hearts get broken..)

Sunday really was an amazing day and I really don't want to taint it because he is a really really sweet guy (despite his overprotective, alpha male-ness) and I'm not entirely sure he was entirely sure about what he wanted and god knows I'm a sucker for the dead father card (it's a pretty reasonable card, I was all sorts of fucked up after my father died) but then there's the sex part, and the number of female friends he's slept with part, and the "I'm thinking this is a pattern for him" part, and you know what? Fuck 'im. He would not approve of his actions. I do not approve of his actions. I don't care what sort of confusion he was having. He couldn't have been that confused if he came down to Berkeley that immediately. Sleazeball asshat. Really? He wants to be my friend? Now that he's proven whose in control, proven his manliness to his friends and everyone we went to middle school with whose hearts I apparently also broke? And he criticizes his friends for dating younger boys because he thinks it's a power issue. Obviously sleeping with a girl first and becoming friends later is not at all a power issue.

And yeah, I realize I might regret sharing this all with the world if, in a couple of weeks, he realizes he's  crazy and I forgive him (because, let's face it, I would probably make that mistake because there's still a part of me that just wants to hold him and tell him it's ok to let his guard down once in a while and it really does all get better- yeah I'm codependent like that) but what are blogs for if not for ranting?

Rant, rant, rant.