You're all going to be so proud of me. I turned down a date. I was asked out by a Hennepin County Deputy Sheriff. He was really nice and had been extremely helpful, but I could see his angle. (Unfortunately, I had set myself up for it.)
After he finished helping me, I told him that I owed him big time. (I thought it was just an expression... but) He said, "You can always make it up to me by buying me a drink!"
We both laughed... it was witty of him (kind of), but I just wasn't feeling him.
I joked back, "Maybe I'll have to do that, but I don't venture out of Ramsey and Anoka counties too often..." (I needed to get out of there fast! I could see where this was leading...)
"Well, you could also make it up to me by letting 'me' buy 'you' a drink right now." (He was good! I have to admit... much more forthright than most Minnesota men.)
"It's a tempting offer, but I have to get back to my office. Maybe some other time..."
I didn't give him time to respond, because I was halfway down the hallway. I had escaped! I was home free! Phew! I did it! I just said 'no' (...kind of).
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Monday, June 27, 2005
Pork Chops and Cosmopolitans
I had the strangest experience the other weekend at my part time retail job. I was helping an older gentleman and his significantly younger wife (he looked about seventy and she looked about mid-forties). At least I think it was his wife… it could have been his daughter.
Maybe I need to restart the story. I was doing a terrible job helping an older gentleman and his significantly younger wife. I couldn’t seem to help them with anything. I kept joking and the old man seemed to appreciate it. He finally asked me, "It’s obvious that you don’t work here full time." (My lack of knowledge regarding the particular products probably clued him off.) "What do you do full time?"
I laughed, but was reluctant to say. "Um, I don't think you want to know."
Within two guesses, he had figured it out. I was in shock! Then he asked, "Did you graduate from (Undisclosed) University?"
My eyes got big and I stood there surprised and a little freaked out. I said, "Do I know you? How did you guess my occupation and my college?"
He grinned and said, "Jane, you’re an easy read. You’re probably wondering how I know your name… don’t worry… it’s because you’re wearing a name tag!" He was enjoying this.
I shot him a skeptical look. "Seriously, do I know you? What do you do for a living… run a psychic phone network?" He laughed and again said… "Jane, you’re an easy read!" (I’m still not sure what that means.)
We chatted a bit longer. It ended up that he was a restauranteur. He owns three popular places in downtown Minneapolis. I told him I’d always wanted to try one of his restaurants. He asked for my address and I gave it to him.
To my delight (four days later), I received $60 in gift certificates to all three of his restaurants. (I guess it’s true, I do have a way with older men!)
Dutch and I went to the Monte Carlo last Saturday. We had a riot! I drank cosmopolitans and ate pork chops and Dutch drank gin & tonic and ate shrimp. (I would have asked Junior, but he still hasn’t apologized for blaspheming the Pistons.)
After the Monte Carlo we headed over to the Newsroom and grabbed a table on their patio. We drank and drank and watched people walk by on Nicollet Avenue. (Well… I drank and drank. Apparently Dutch only had a Summit.) But anyway, it was a beautiful night. There was a warm breeze blowing through the city and the drinks were cold. Dutch ended up driving me home. The cosmopolitans hit me harder than expected. (Oops!)
I know I said I was going to avoid Minneapolis for a while, (at least until I got my mind off 40 Year Old) but free food will entice me anywhere… heck… it could even entice me back to Las Vegas. (But, that’s another story!)
On a side note: I made sure to send a 'thank you' note addressed to both the older gentleman and his significantly younger wife/daughter.
Maybe I need to restart the story. I was doing a terrible job helping an older gentleman and his significantly younger wife. I couldn’t seem to help them with anything. I kept joking and the old man seemed to appreciate it. He finally asked me, "It’s obvious that you don’t work here full time." (My lack of knowledge regarding the particular products probably clued him off.) "What do you do full time?"
I laughed, but was reluctant to say. "Um, I don't think you want to know."
Within two guesses, he had figured it out. I was in shock! Then he asked, "Did you graduate from (Undisclosed) University?"
My eyes got big and I stood there surprised and a little freaked out. I said, "Do I know you? How did you guess my occupation and my college?"
He grinned and said, "Jane, you’re an easy read. You’re probably wondering how I know your name… don’t worry… it’s because you’re wearing a name tag!" He was enjoying this.
I shot him a skeptical look. "Seriously, do I know you? What do you do for a living… run a psychic phone network?" He laughed and again said… "Jane, you’re an easy read!" (I’m still not sure what that means.)
We chatted a bit longer. It ended up that he was a restauranteur. He owns three popular places in downtown Minneapolis. I told him I’d always wanted to try one of his restaurants. He asked for my address and I gave it to him.
To my delight (four days later), I received $60 in gift certificates to all three of his restaurants. (I guess it’s true, I do have a way with older men!)
Dutch and I went to the Monte Carlo last Saturday. We had a riot! I drank cosmopolitans and ate pork chops and Dutch drank gin & tonic and ate shrimp. (I would have asked Junior, but he still hasn’t apologized for blaspheming the Pistons.)
After the Monte Carlo we headed over to the Newsroom and grabbed a table on their patio. We drank and drank and watched people walk by on Nicollet Avenue. (Well… I drank and drank. Apparently Dutch only had a Summit.) But anyway, it was a beautiful night. There was a warm breeze blowing through the city and the drinks were cold. Dutch ended up driving me home. The cosmopolitans hit me harder than expected. (Oops!)
I know I said I was going to avoid Minneapolis for a while, (at least until I got my mind off 40 Year Old) but free food will entice me anywhere… heck… it could even entice me back to Las Vegas. (But, that’s another story!)
On a side note: I made sure to send a 'thank you' note addressed to both the older gentleman and his significantly younger wife/daughter.
Sunday, June 26, 2005
Game 6 and Benedict "Junior"
I couldn't watch the game. I sat there listening to the commentators, but didn't dare turn around. I was convinced that I'd jinx my boys… my “Bad Boys.”
I walked over to my couch, “Junior” was relaxing, sipping on some ice water and watching the game. He was rooting for the Spurs. (I hate him!)
I’d bitten off most of my finger nails and I just decided to walk away.
“Jane, come sit down on the couch and watch the game with me.” Junior didn’t even turn his head from the TV to tell me this.
“Junior, I can’t! Every time I walk over and check the score the Spurs pull ahead. I can’t do that to Detroit.” I’m not a superstitious person, but for some reason I'm convinced that I'm a bad luck charm. By me watching the game, it will effect whether Chauncy’s three point shot will go in or not. I’m a cursed fan. Every time I watch my team play, they lose!
I don’t think “Junior” minded me leaving the room and typing away on my computer. He was getting annoyed with my high pitched squeals every time Detroit missed a shot.
I yelled into the living room, “Junior, what’s the score?”
“91 to 86, it’s a time out.” He yelled back.
I waited a few seconds, then asked… “Who’s ahead?”
When he shouted back, “Detroit”. I knew my superstitions were not unfounded. I was helping my team by not watching them. I was making a difference… a real difference!
Junior yelled at me again, “Jane, it’s the final minute… you can watch now.” (Secretly I think he wanted me to watch, so that San Antonio would win… he was trying to sabotage the Pistons! He’s a traitor… Junior was born in Detroit!) I couldn't stand it anymore… I had to watch.
The Pistons won that night, but I watched all of game 7 and as a result they lost the series. I'm still not ready to talk about it. I don't know if I ever will be. I haven't talked to Junior since game 6 either.
Junior is my back up boyfriend (of sorts). Whenever either of us don't have a date (or have broken up with a significant other), but feel like going on a date... we give each other a buzz. I can always count on him to come out and listen to live music at a swanky lounge or club. But... my "Bad Boys" come first this time. I will not be speaking to Junior until he apologizes for his act of (Spur) treason.
I walked over to my couch, “Junior” was relaxing, sipping on some ice water and watching the game. He was rooting for the Spurs. (I hate him!)
I’d bitten off most of my finger nails and I just decided to walk away.
“Jane, come sit down on the couch and watch the game with me.” Junior didn’t even turn his head from the TV to tell me this.
“Junior, I can’t! Every time I walk over and check the score the Spurs pull ahead. I can’t do that to Detroit.” I’m not a superstitious person, but for some reason I'm convinced that I'm a bad luck charm. By me watching the game, it will effect whether Chauncy’s three point shot will go in or not. I’m a cursed fan. Every time I watch my team play, they lose!
I don’t think “Junior” minded me leaving the room and typing away on my computer. He was getting annoyed with my high pitched squeals every time Detroit missed a shot.
I yelled into the living room, “Junior, what’s the score?”
“91 to 86, it’s a time out.” He yelled back.
I waited a few seconds, then asked… “Who’s ahead?”
When he shouted back, “Detroit”. I knew my superstitions were not unfounded. I was helping my team by not watching them. I was making a difference… a real difference!
Junior yelled at me again, “Jane, it’s the final minute… you can watch now.” (Secretly I think he wanted me to watch, so that San Antonio would win… he was trying to sabotage the Pistons! He’s a traitor… Junior was born in Detroit!) I couldn't stand it anymore… I had to watch.
The Pistons won that night, but I watched all of game 7 and as a result they lost the series. I'm still not ready to talk about it. I don't know if I ever will be. I haven't talked to Junior since game 6 either.
Junior is my back up boyfriend (of sorts). Whenever either of us don't have a date (or have broken up with a significant other), but feel like going on a date... we give each other a buzz. I can always count on him to come out and listen to live music at a swanky lounge or club. But... my "Bad Boys" come first this time. I will not be speaking to Junior until he apologizes for his act of (Spur) treason.
Monday, June 20, 2005
Leave of Absence
I am taking a short-term leave of absence from blogging due to the NBA Finals. Updates on my dating adventures will resume after the Pistons defeat the Spurs in game seven. Thank you for your patience and continued support.
Friday, June 17, 2005
Wedding Invite
A few months ago I was invited to the wedding of an “Old Friend” of mine (who I happened to have a little bit of a history with). The history is sordid and too long to get into, but he called me to ask if I would come. I told him that I would think about it… and I have. I’ve gone back and forth for months as to whether I should make the trek across the country to see my “Old Friend / pseudo-ex-something” get married.
I haven’t seen him for 5 years (partly because of our sordid history). I would love to see him again, but I’ve never been in this situation before. I don’t know how I’ll react seeing someone that I cared so much for get married to someone else.
I also can’t help but think about his fiancé. If I were in her shoes, would I want my future husband’s “pseudo-ex-something” coming to my wedding? (Probably not!) I talked to my “Old Friend” and told him what I was feeling. He told me I was being ridiculous and that he would be hurt if I didn’t come.
“Jane, you’re one of my oldest friends. I want you at my wedding. Everything will be fine, just come.” Then he said: “Would you even bother coming to my funeral?”
I told him, “Yes”.
Then he said, “Well, that is messed up. I would rather have you at my wedding than at my funeral.” (Hmmmm, he had a point.)
I don’t know what to do. I know that whatever we had is long done. We both moved on years ago, but I just don’t know…
I tried to convince “Cali-Goose” to be my date (he’s the best man), but “Cali-G” turned me down… something about how he’s bringing his girlfriend (Grrrr). I asked “Cali-G’s” little brother “Adonis”, but he can’t go, because his modeling career is taking off and he doesn’t have time. “Dutch” can’t come because he’s going to be in Montana. I guess I’ll be going by myself (if I go at all), which is fine… I’ve gotten really good at going stag to weddings (I haven’t had dates for the last 3 weddings I went to).
I haven’t seen him for 5 years (partly because of our sordid history). I would love to see him again, but I’ve never been in this situation before. I don’t know how I’ll react seeing someone that I cared so much for get married to someone else.
I also can’t help but think about his fiancé. If I were in her shoes, would I want my future husband’s “pseudo-ex-something” coming to my wedding? (Probably not!) I talked to my “Old Friend” and told him what I was feeling. He told me I was being ridiculous and that he would be hurt if I didn’t come.
“Jane, you’re one of my oldest friends. I want you at my wedding. Everything will be fine, just come.” Then he said: “Would you even bother coming to my funeral?”
I told him, “Yes”.
Then he said, “Well, that is messed up. I would rather have you at my wedding than at my funeral.” (Hmmmm, he had a point.)
I don’t know what to do. I know that whatever we had is long done. We both moved on years ago, but I just don’t know…
I tried to convince “Cali-Goose” to be my date (he’s the best man), but “Cali-G” turned me down… something about how he’s bringing his girlfriend (Grrrr). I asked “Cali-G’s” little brother “Adonis”, but he can’t go, because his modeling career is taking off and he doesn’t have time. “Dutch” can’t come because he’s going to be in Montana. I guess I’ll be going by myself (if I go at all), which is fine… I’ve gotten really good at going stag to weddings (I haven’t had dates for the last 3 weddings I went to).
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Puppet Tricks Did The Trick
I was still moping around because "40 Year Old" had left so unceremoniously. I was going through the motions at work. I needed to get my mind off of things.
A suggestion by Sue my coworker did the trick. We hopped in her car after work and headed to downtown Minneapolis and the Theater District. We parked the car in the ramp, and hustled over to the box office (still in our skirts and heels). We didn’t have tickets and all the shows were either sold out or selling out quickly.
As we crossed Hennepin and started towards the entrance, we passed a man standing outside the restaurant next to the theatre. He was cute with shoulder length brown curly hair. Hmmmm… I thought, (as we eyed each other) that’s strange how he’s just hanging out on the street watching people walk by… like he has no place to go anytime soon.
Sue and I pranced into the box office and nabbed 2 of the last will call tickets for… (giggles, snickers and blushing) the world-renowned performance of… (more giggles, snickers and blushing) "Puppetry of the Penis…the art of genital origami".
Sue and I pranced back across the street to Zeno’s and ordered ourselves Mango Martini’s (Mmmmm…). We sat at the window bar and watched people walk by. (I love people watching.) Then we switched our attention to the cute guy across the street, still standing next to the restaurant, still looking like he had no place to go, still watching people walk by. (Hmmmm…)
It was time for the show to start and we headed back to the theater. The curly-haired cutie had disappeared. (But would reappear shortly… well not too short!) The crowd was lively to say the least. There were approximately 10 men in the crowd compared to 100-120 women. (I wondered, ‘why so few men?")
I really didn’t know what to expect. (The title should have clued me off, but the obvious always has to hit me in the head.) I was naïve enough to think the show would be a little more ‘artful’ than it actually was, but nevertheless… I was fully full frontally entertained! My cheeks and jaw hurt by the end of the show, because I couldn’t stop laughing and because my jaw couldn't stop dropping.
Oh yeah, and the man on the street… well he just happened to be one of the stars of the show! (Mmmmm Hmmmm...)
That theater experience really did do the trick! (Good god!) I didn’t think about "40 Year Old" being gone the entire performance. All I could think about was… how (in the heck) did those two guys twist their junk into a hamburger patty and buns?
But, my bliss was short-lived. As we left the theater, I started thinking to myself. (When was the last time I was here?) Then I remembered… This was the theatre that I came to with "40 Year Old" on our second date. We had gone there for a comedy show last winter. That was the night of our first kiss. (Yes Marvan, I did wait until the second date to kiss him.)
Sue and I stepped to the curb and I looked up and down Hennepin Avenue. (Crap!) Then I thought about Nicollet Avenue. (Crap! Crap!) Then I thought about Uptown. (Crap! Crap! Crap!) I’ve been to nearly half the restaurants, pubs and cocktail bars in the downtown with "40 Year Old". Not to mention every place and any place fun near Calhoun Square. I was reminded of him everywhere in Minneapolis. (Crap!)
I had to shake this. I had to stop being so emotional. (Stop it Jane!) I couldn’t avoid these places, just because I had so many recent memories at them with him. (Suck it up Jane! Quit being a sentimental whiner!)
Then I remembered the nice part about living in the Twin Cities. When Minneapolis isn’t working for you (or you just need to get away from it for a while). You simply cross the Mississippi and hang out in St. Paul (just until the memories aren’t so fresh). Yeah, that sounds like a good plan. (I need to get that old fart off my mind.) That's what I'm going to do... I'm staying in St. Paul!
On a side note: I’m not sure if I would recommend the show. "Marvan", I know you wanted to know how it was. (Ha ha… you’re a Curious George!) Well, to be honest, I’m still a little traumatized by those ‘tastefully artful’ peckers twisting, spinning and flying around the stage (shaped like different critters). I’ll let you know if it was worth it… in a few days… when the shock wears off.
A suggestion by Sue my coworker did the trick. We hopped in her car after work and headed to downtown Minneapolis and the Theater District. We parked the car in the ramp, and hustled over to the box office (still in our skirts and heels). We didn’t have tickets and all the shows were either sold out or selling out quickly.
As we crossed Hennepin and started towards the entrance, we passed a man standing outside the restaurant next to the theatre. He was cute with shoulder length brown curly hair. Hmmmm… I thought, (as we eyed each other) that’s strange how he’s just hanging out on the street watching people walk by… like he has no place to go anytime soon.
Sue and I pranced into the box office and nabbed 2 of the last will call tickets for… (giggles, snickers and blushing) the world-renowned performance of… (more giggles, snickers and blushing) "Puppetry of the Penis…the art of genital origami".
Sue and I pranced back across the street to Zeno’s and ordered ourselves Mango Martini’s (Mmmmm…). We sat at the window bar and watched people walk by. (I love people watching.) Then we switched our attention to the cute guy across the street, still standing next to the restaurant, still looking like he had no place to go, still watching people walk by. (Hmmmm…)
It was time for the show to start and we headed back to the theater. The curly-haired cutie had disappeared. (But would reappear shortly… well not too short!) The crowd was lively to say the least. There were approximately 10 men in the crowd compared to 100-120 women. (I wondered, ‘why so few men?")
I really didn’t know what to expect. (The title should have clued me off, but the obvious always has to hit me in the head.) I was naïve enough to think the show would be a little more ‘artful’ than it actually was, but nevertheless… I was fully full frontally entertained! My cheeks and jaw hurt by the end of the show, because I couldn’t stop laughing and because my jaw couldn't stop dropping.
Oh yeah, and the man on the street… well he just happened to be one of the stars of the show! (Mmmmm Hmmmm...)
That theater experience really did do the trick! (Good god!) I didn’t think about "40 Year Old" being gone the entire performance. All I could think about was… how (in the heck) did those two guys twist their junk into a hamburger patty and buns?
But, my bliss was short-lived. As we left the theater, I started thinking to myself. (When was the last time I was here?) Then I remembered… This was the theatre that I came to with "40 Year Old" on our second date. We had gone there for a comedy show last winter. That was the night of our first kiss. (Yes Marvan, I did wait until the second date to kiss him.)
Sue and I stepped to the curb and I looked up and down Hennepin Avenue. (Crap!) Then I thought about Nicollet Avenue. (Crap! Crap!) Then I thought about Uptown. (Crap! Crap! Crap!) I’ve been to nearly half the restaurants, pubs and cocktail bars in the downtown with "40 Year Old". Not to mention every place and any place fun near Calhoun Square. I was reminded of him everywhere in Minneapolis. (Crap!)
I had to shake this. I had to stop being so emotional. (Stop it Jane!) I couldn’t avoid these places, just because I had so many recent memories at them with him. (Suck it up Jane! Quit being a sentimental whiner!)
Then I remembered the nice part about living in the Twin Cities. When Minneapolis isn’t working for you (or you just need to get away from it for a while). You simply cross the Mississippi and hang out in St. Paul (just until the memories aren’t so fresh). Yeah, that sounds like a good plan. (I need to get that old fart off my mind.) That's what I'm going to do... I'm staying in St. Paul!
On a side note: I’m not sure if I would recommend the show. "Marvan", I know you wanted to know how it was. (Ha ha… you’re a Curious George!) Well, to be honest, I’m still a little traumatized by those ‘tastefully artful’ peckers twisting, spinning and flying around the stage (shaped like different critters). I’ll let you know if it was worth it… in a few days… when the shock wears off.
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Half Broken Heart
I think I may be suffering from a half broken heart. I didn’t break the entire thing (I wouldn’t let that happen… that’s too messy and obnoxious), but I definitely broke at least a small piece of it… and maybe up to half. Enough to make it hurt and enough to make it hard to breathe for a few hours.
“40 Year Old” moved away.
I had sent an email to “40 Year Old” earlier in the morning. It was his first day on the new job. It was a quick note wishing him luck and asking him when his last official day in Minnesota was. I was burning CDs at Dutch’s apartment in the evening, when "40 Year Old" emailed me back.
“Hey Sweetheart, Thanks for the note. I absolutely love the new job. Everyone has been awesome. I can see myself at this place for a long time. (His enthusiasm was apparent.) My plans have changed a bit. I guess I’ve already had my last official day in Minnesota. (Did he say already?) I arranged for the moving company to pack and move all my things today. I rented my place out to my old coworker and he moved in this afternoon. I’ll be back this some weekend later this month, but I’m not sure when. I still have a few things to wrap up with my house. Take care and I’ll talk to you later. – 40 Year Old”
I choked when I read this. I wasn’t ready to hear that. (I held back any tears… I didn’t want Dutch to see, but I think he knew something was wrong.)
Had I known that when I dropped “40 Year Old” off at the airport last week, that it would be the last time I saw him… I would have held on a little tighter and longer when we hugged… I would have kissed him a little softer and longer… I would have… I don’t know… I just wish I had known.
It hadn’t set in until that moment that he was really leaving. He’s already gone. Yes, he said he was stopping back in the next few weeks, but I don’t think I want to see him. I’m not going to call. I don’t want this to hurt anymore than it already does. I don’t want him to see that this hurts me. (This is ridiculous! I've only known this man 4 1/2 months! I hate feeling this way!)
Dutch walked back in the room. (He knew something was wrong, but didn’t ask… he didn’t have to.) He walked up behind me. (I quickly closed my email and pretended to be busy picking out more songs to burn.)
“Here Janie, listen to some Beyonce… it’ll make you feel better.” (He put the headset over my ears and turned up the volume.)
I looked at him and shook my head, “You’re a weirdo Dutch… Thanks.” We both started laughing. I finished burning my songs and we went out for dinner.
“40 Year Old” moved away.
I had sent an email to “40 Year Old” earlier in the morning. It was his first day on the new job. It was a quick note wishing him luck and asking him when his last official day in Minnesota was. I was burning CDs at Dutch’s apartment in the evening, when "40 Year Old" emailed me back.
“Hey Sweetheart, Thanks for the note. I absolutely love the new job. Everyone has been awesome. I can see myself at this place for a long time. (His enthusiasm was apparent.) My plans have changed a bit. I guess I’ve already had my last official day in Minnesota. (Did he say already?) I arranged for the moving company to pack and move all my things today. I rented my place out to my old coworker and he moved in this afternoon. I’ll be back this some weekend later this month, but I’m not sure when. I still have a few things to wrap up with my house. Take care and I’ll talk to you later. – 40 Year Old”
I choked when I read this. I wasn’t ready to hear that. (I held back any tears… I didn’t want Dutch to see, but I think he knew something was wrong.)
Had I known that when I dropped “40 Year Old” off at the airport last week, that it would be the last time I saw him… I would have held on a little tighter and longer when we hugged… I would have kissed him a little softer and longer… I would have… I don’t know… I just wish I had known.
It hadn’t set in until that moment that he was really leaving. He’s already gone. Yes, he said he was stopping back in the next few weeks, but I don’t think I want to see him. I’m not going to call. I don’t want this to hurt anymore than it already does. I don’t want him to see that this hurts me. (This is ridiculous! I've only known this man 4 1/2 months! I hate feeling this way!)
Dutch walked back in the room. (He knew something was wrong, but didn’t ask… he didn’t have to.) He walked up behind me. (I quickly closed my email and pretended to be busy picking out more songs to burn.)
“Here Janie, listen to some Beyonce… it’ll make you feel better.” (He put the headset over my ears and turned up the volume.)
I looked at him and shook my head, “You’re a weirdo Dutch… Thanks.” We both started laughing. I finished burning my songs and we went out for dinner.
Friday, June 10, 2005
Recycling Freud
I'm starting to think that some people are made of recyclable material. These people keep recycling themselves through my life. I try and get rid of them (in an environmentally conscious manner), but they keep coming back. First it was "Creepy John". Now it is "Eugenio". I just received an email from him. (The email he promised me two weeks ago during our volatile conversation over instant messenger.) I hope you all enjoy it:
"Hey Jane, What's up, yo? Just wanted to send you the email that I promised. Sorry if I annoyed you the last time we spoke. That wasn't my intent. This email may annoy you too, but I don't care. Take it for what it's worth.
I should have played it cool with you, but you're so anti-mind games. I figured it was kosher for me to be honest with you. I normally get bored with girls and lose interest in them quickly. It was nice to actually have a crush on someone for once. I got ahead of myself. I am a romantic type of guy and I don't like to suppress feelings when it comes to girls. That being said, I don't really think anyone would categorize me as being an emotional or high-maintenance person. Maybe I over analyze or over think things, but then again you claim to do the same. So I thought maybe you would understand.
Anyway, I sure have learned my lesson in regards to dealing with intimacy or commitment phobes! For the record, I don't think you are a rude b*tch. When I said that I read between the lines, I meant that if you really were a mean person; I would have noticed it much earlier. I figure your reaction was just your defense mechanism for dealing with emotion. You try to drive people away and youre pretty effective at it. Even though I don't buy your fake animosity towards me, I still don't want to deal with it.
It's all cool though, I'm not mad or upset with you. I certainly don't harbor any hard feelings. It was fun while it lasted and reminded me that there are definitely girls out here who can still pique my interest. I still think you'e pretty rad and even though I'm not interested in dating, if you ever want to hang out, you know how to reach me.
We do have a good time when we're face-to-face, after all. The ball is in your court.
-Eugenio"
Wow Sigmund, you've really got me figured out (sarcastic tone). After those 4 dates and 2 kisses my defense mechanisms kicked in. I sensed that Eugenio was getting too close emotionally. He was starting to tap into the deep recesses of my soul and know the "real Jane". So naturally, my subconscious reacted and made me behave in a way that pushed him away. (He really hit the nail on the head!)
When I received the email, I quickly scanned through it (chuckled) and didn't pay much attention to it. I forwarded it to "Bridget" and "Austin HP" to let them have a crack at decoding the purpose of this correspondence. Their responses were almost identical. They both thought it was contrived, like he was censoring himself (which he should have done that last time we talked). They thought he was trying to push my bottons by calling me a committment phobic (although it's already a consensus among my friends that I am) in an attempt to get me to respond to him.
Austin HP was concerned (as he usually is) and emailed me, "Jane, this guy is warped. He honestly thinks that if he can just get you to spend a little more time with him, that he can win you over. Don't respond to this!" Bridget concurred and said, "I think he's playing hard to get. He thinks that you're the type of girl that likes a challenge and by telling you that he isn't interested. He's hoping reverse psychology will do it's magic and make you want him as much as he wants you." (Ick! Yes, I like a challenge just as much as the next gal, but the challenge with this situation, is how to get him to forget me.)
Well, I've spent enough time thinking, writing and talking about this already. "Dutch" is waiting for me to finish typing so we can walk to DQ. (MMmmmm... nothing get's my mind off of things better than ice cream. Dairy Queen here I come!)
"Hey Jane, What's up, yo? Just wanted to send you the email that I promised. Sorry if I annoyed you the last time we spoke. That wasn't my intent. This email may annoy you too, but I don't care. Take it for what it's worth.
I should have played it cool with you, but you're so anti-mind games. I figured it was kosher for me to be honest with you. I normally get bored with girls and lose interest in them quickly. It was nice to actually have a crush on someone for once. I got ahead of myself. I am a romantic type of guy and I don't like to suppress feelings when it comes to girls. That being said, I don't really think anyone would categorize me as being an emotional or high-maintenance person. Maybe I over analyze or over think things, but then again you claim to do the same. So I thought maybe you would understand.
Anyway, I sure have learned my lesson in regards to dealing with intimacy or commitment phobes! For the record, I don't think you are a rude b*tch. When I said that I read between the lines, I meant that if you really were a mean person; I would have noticed it much earlier. I figure your reaction was just your defense mechanism for dealing with emotion. You try to drive people away and youre pretty effective at it. Even though I don't buy your fake animosity towards me, I still don't want to deal with it.
It's all cool though, I'm not mad or upset with you. I certainly don't harbor any hard feelings. It was fun while it lasted and reminded me that there are definitely girls out here who can still pique my interest. I still think you'e pretty rad and even though I'm not interested in dating, if you ever want to hang out, you know how to reach me.
We do have a good time when we're face-to-face, after all. The ball is in your court.
-Eugenio"
Wow Sigmund, you've really got me figured out (sarcastic tone). After those 4 dates and 2 kisses my defense mechanisms kicked in. I sensed that Eugenio was getting too close emotionally. He was starting to tap into the deep recesses of my soul and know the "real Jane". So naturally, my subconscious reacted and made me behave in a way that pushed him away. (He really hit the nail on the head!)
When I received the email, I quickly scanned through it (chuckled) and didn't pay much attention to it. I forwarded it to "Bridget" and "Austin HP" to let them have a crack at decoding the purpose of this correspondence. Their responses were almost identical. They both thought it was contrived, like he was censoring himself (which he should have done that last time we talked). They thought he was trying to push my bottons by calling me a committment phobic (although it's already a consensus among my friends that I am) in an attempt to get me to respond to him.
Austin HP was concerned (as he usually is) and emailed me, "Jane, this guy is warped. He honestly thinks that if he can just get you to spend a little more time with him, that he can win you over. Don't respond to this!" Bridget concurred and said, "I think he's playing hard to get. He thinks that you're the type of girl that likes a challenge and by telling you that he isn't interested. He's hoping reverse psychology will do it's magic and make you want him as much as he wants you." (Ick! Yes, I like a challenge just as much as the next gal, but the challenge with this situation, is how to get him to forget me.)
Well, I've spent enough time thinking, writing and talking about this already. "Dutch" is waiting for me to finish typing so we can walk to DQ. (MMmmmm... nothing get's my mind off of things better than ice cream. Dairy Queen here I come!)
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
Red-Eye Rendezvous
I received a phone call yesterday evening around 8:30 p.m. It was “40 Year Old”.
“Hey Jane, I was wondering if you were available later this evening to grab a drink and then possibly… if you could find it in your giant heart… possibly drop me off at the airport for a red-eye flight?” Of course I told him yes.
I headed on over to his house, let myself in and walked into his office. He was trying to pay his bills by phone and had his speakerphone on. This is the conversation I had the pleasure of listening to.
Xcel Energy Recording: “To pay your bill by phone, please say, ‘Pay bill by phone.’”
40 Year Old: “Pay bill by phone.”
Xcel Energy Recording: “Did you say, ‘Pay bill by phone?’”
40 Year Old: “Yes.”
Xcel Energy Recording: “I’m sorry I did not hear you correctly. Did you say, ‘yes?’”?
40 Year Old: “Yes.”
Xcel Energy Recording: “Thank you. To pay your bill by phone, using a credit card,
please say, ‘Pay with my credit card.’”
40 Year Old: “Pay with my credit card.”
Xcel Energy Recording: “Did you say, ‘Pay with my credit card?”
40 Year Old: “Yes.”
Xcel Energy Recording: “I’m sorry I did not hear you correctly. Did you say, ‘yes?’”
40 Year Old: “Yes.” (with his voice getting louder and more deliberate)
Xcel Energy Recording: “I’m sorry I did not hear you correctly. Did you say, ‘yes?’”
40 Year Old: “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
Xcel Energy Recording: "Thank you for using Xcel Energy. Have a nice day." (click and dial tone)
40 Year Old: “Nooooooooooo!” (with a few expletives)
I sat quietly in the next room listening to him and watching the lightening storm outside. It was taking everything I had not to laugh. He dialed again.
Xcel Energy Recording: “Thank you for calling Xcel Energy. Please enter your 10 digit account number.” (I heard 40 Year Old enter a series of numbers.) “Did you enter (the recording read back his account number), please say yes or no.”
40 Year Old: “Yes!” (He muttered some more curse words under his breath.)
Xcel Energy Recording: "I’m sorry, I did not hear you correctly. Did you say ‘yes’?”
40 Year Old: “Yes!” (He was ready to explode.)
Xcel Energy Recording: “Thank you. To pay your bill by phone, please say, ‘Pay bill by phone.’”
40 Year Old: “Pay bill by phone. You dumb bi*ch!”
Excel Energy Recording: “Thank you for calling Excel Energy. Good bye.” (I heard a click and then the dial tone came on again.)
40 Year Old: “Aaaahhhhhhhh!!!”
He had reached his limit and continued to curse. I was laughing so hard that I spit out of my nose. (Nothing is more entertaining to me than to see a grown professional man crumble under the pressure of trying to complete the simplest of tasks.)
“Um, '40 Year Old', have you ever thought about paying your bills online?”
“Jane, I don’t want to hear it. I really don’t want to hear it.”
“Okay, I was just making a suggestion...”
He made one more attempt to pay his bill by phone. I had to leave the room I was laughing so hard. When he failed again… he walked into the living room.
“Um, can you help me pay my bill online?” He had calmed down a bit.
“Sure.” I said, as I lead him by the hand back to his office.
We got the rest of his bills paid; finished organizing and putting his presentation into binders; and we packed his suitcase. He turned to me as we loaded up my car with his luggage, “Jane, you’re going to make someone a wonderful wife someday.” I looked at him and rolled my eyes. (Why do men say stupid things like that? Why!) I wanted to kick him, but instead I ignored the comment. (What sort of response was he looking for from me?)
I drove him to the airport. He was cutting it close. He gave me a kiss in the car and said, “I’m really going to miss you Jane.”
I kissed him back, “I’m going to miss you to, but I’m not going to let you know how much.” I waved him on and drove off. He just barely caught his flight.
“Hey Jane, I was wondering if you were available later this evening to grab a drink and then possibly… if you could find it in your giant heart… possibly drop me off at the airport for a red-eye flight?” Of course I told him yes.
I headed on over to his house, let myself in and walked into his office. He was trying to pay his bills by phone and had his speakerphone on. This is the conversation I had the pleasure of listening to.
Xcel Energy Recording: “To pay your bill by phone, please say, ‘Pay bill by phone.’”
40 Year Old: “Pay bill by phone.”
Xcel Energy Recording: “Did you say, ‘Pay bill by phone?’”
40 Year Old: “Yes.”
Xcel Energy Recording: “I’m sorry I did not hear you correctly. Did you say, ‘yes?’”?
40 Year Old: “Yes.”
Xcel Energy Recording: “Thank you. To pay your bill by phone, using a credit card,
please say, ‘Pay with my credit card.’”
40 Year Old: “Pay with my credit card.”
Xcel Energy Recording: “Did you say, ‘Pay with my credit card?”
40 Year Old: “Yes.”
Xcel Energy Recording: “I’m sorry I did not hear you correctly. Did you say, ‘yes?’”
40 Year Old: “Yes.” (with his voice getting louder and more deliberate)
Xcel Energy Recording: “I’m sorry I did not hear you correctly. Did you say, ‘yes?’”
40 Year Old: “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
Xcel Energy Recording: "Thank you for using Xcel Energy. Have a nice day." (click and dial tone)
40 Year Old: “Nooooooooooo!” (with a few expletives)
I sat quietly in the next room listening to him and watching the lightening storm outside. It was taking everything I had not to laugh. He dialed again.
Xcel Energy Recording: “Thank you for calling Xcel Energy. Please enter your 10 digit account number.” (I heard 40 Year Old enter a series of numbers.) “Did you enter (the recording read back his account number), please say yes or no.”
40 Year Old: “Yes!” (He muttered some more curse words under his breath.)
Xcel Energy Recording: "I’m sorry, I did not hear you correctly. Did you say ‘yes’?”
40 Year Old: “Yes!” (He was ready to explode.)
Xcel Energy Recording: “Thank you. To pay your bill by phone, please say, ‘Pay bill by phone.’”
40 Year Old: “Pay bill by phone. You dumb bi*ch!”
Excel Energy Recording: “Thank you for calling Excel Energy. Good bye.” (I heard a click and then the dial tone came on again.)
40 Year Old: “Aaaahhhhhhhh!!!”
He had reached his limit and continued to curse. I was laughing so hard that I spit out of my nose. (Nothing is more entertaining to me than to see a grown professional man crumble under the pressure of trying to complete the simplest of tasks.)
“Um, '40 Year Old', have you ever thought about paying your bills online?”
“Jane, I don’t want to hear it. I really don’t want to hear it.”
“Okay, I was just making a suggestion...”
He made one more attempt to pay his bill by phone. I had to leave the room I was laughing so hard. When he failed again… he walked into the living room.
“Um, can you help me pay my bill online?” He had calmed down a bit.
“Sure.” I said, as I lead him by the hand back to his office.
We got the rest of his bills paid; finished organizing and putting his presentation into binders; and we packed his suitcase. He turned to me as we loaded up my car with his luggage, “Jane, you’re going to make someone a wonderful wife someday.” I looked at him and rolled my eyes. (Why do men say stupid things like that? Why!) I wanted to kick him, but instead I ignored the comment. (What sort of response was he looking for from me?)
I drove him to the airport. He was cutting it close. He gave me a kiss in the car and said, “I’m really going to miss you Jane.”
I kissed him back, “I’m going to miss you to, but I’m not going to let you know how much.” I waved him on and drove off. He just barely caught his flight.
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Going "Dutch"
Will the drama in my life ever end? Not anytime soon. Last Thursday night I was driving home from my part time job. I was stopped at a red light, when a minivan plowed into the back of my car. I was jerked forward and my car was pushed through the intersection (even though my foot was firmly planted on the brake). I was dazed to say the least. The police showed up and offered to call an ambulance. I declined the offer, but by the time the police had left the scene I was having trouble focusing my eyes and I had a splitting headache. I decided to drive myself to the emergency room. (Actually, it took a lot of convincing via cell phone by both Marvan and Bridget, to get me to drive there.)
Having to go to the emergency room is an awful experience. However, having to go to the emergency room by yourself is even worse! As I sat there… by myself, with my head aching… I started to have a pity party. (And no Marvan… you weren’t invited:)
I was all alone in this big city (these big cities if you want to be technical). All of my family lived out of state; many of my closest friends moved away after graduation; and I didn’t have a boyfriend! I’ve never been the kind of girl that “had to be in a relationship”; in fact my relationship track record is scant to say the least. But at that moment in my life, I thought to myself…this would be an ideal time to have a boyfriend. I got a lump in my throat (my pity party was turning into a full on bash).
My cell phone rang… it was Bridget, she was calling back to make sure I got to he hospital all right. “How’re you feeling pumpkin?”
I tried to hide the lump in my throat, “I’m okay… Um, I’m a little shaken up and my head hurts, but I’m okay…”
“Well it’s your own fault dipsh*t… you should have been wearing your seat belt.” (Oh by the way… I wasn’t wearing my seat belt.) Within a matter of seconds Bridget had single handedly busted up my pity party.
Then Bridget made me feel better, she said, “Where’s Dutch? How are you getting home if they don’t let you drive?”
“Dutch” is one of my closest friends. We go all the way back to high school. Hhhmmm, Bridget had a point… I had no way of getting home.
I responded, “Well, I haven’t called Dutch, because he has to work tomorrow and he’s probably already asleep.” (I have deep psychological issues with asking people to help me… it’s a long story.)
“Jane, you need to call Dutch right now! He would want to know if you’re waiting in the E.R. by yourself. I’m hanging up and you’re calling him!”
I dialed Dutch’s number. He was there in less than 20 minutes and stayed with me until 3:30 a.m. Then he took me to Perkins for breakfast. We talked, ate and joked around making up fake diagnoses for my injuries (shaken brain syndrome). He dropped me off at my apartment (which is less than a quarter mile from his).
I gave him a hug, “Thanks for hanging out at the E.R. with me. I’m really sorry that it ruined your night, but I really appreciated it.”
“Jane, stop being ridiculous… it didn’t ruin my night and I didn’t mind at all. The nurses in your room were really hot! You know you should definitely go back there if you feel any residual effects from the accident. I’ll definitely come with!” We both laughed.
“You’ll be the first person I call Dutch.”
That night I had an epiphany. Dating is for the birds! (But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop anytime soon.) Boy Friends blah, they come and go! However, Best Friends… well, Best Friends are something special. They’re your surrogate family… they fill the role of Husband, Wife, Mother, Father, Brother and Sister. That’s a huge responsibility and the good ones always seem to rise to the occasion. (Thank God!)
Having to go to the emergency room is an awful experience. However, having to go to the emergency room by yourself is even worse! As I sat there… by myself, with my head aching… I started to have a pity party. (And no Marvan… you weren’t invited:)
I was all alone in this big city (these big cities if you want to be technical). All of my family lived out of state; many of my closest friends moved away after graduation; and I didn’t have a boyfriend! I’ve never been the kind of girl that “had to be in a relationship”; in fact my relationship track record is scant to say the least. But at that moment in my life, I thought to myself…this would be an ideal time to have a boyfriend. I got a lump in my throat (my pity party was turning into a full on bash).
My cell phone rang… it was Bridget, she was calling back to make sure I got to he hospital all right. “How’re you feeling pumpkin?”
I tried to hide the lump in my throat, “I’m okay… Um, I’m a little shaken up and my head hurts, but I’m okay…”
“Well it’s your own fault dipsh*t… you should have been wearing your seat belt.” (Oh by the way… I wasn’t wearing my seat belt.) Within a matter of seconds Bridget had single handedly busted up my pity party.
Then Bridget made me feel better, she said, “Where’s Dutch? How are you getting home if they don’t let you drive?”
“Dutch” is one of my closest friends. We go all the way back to high school. Hhhmmm, Bridget had a point… I had no way of getting home.
I responded, “Well, I haven’t called Dutch, because he has to work tomorrow and he’s probably already asleep.” (I have deep psychological issues with asking people to help me… it’s a long story.)
“Jane, you need to call Dutch right now! He would want to know if you’re waiting in the E.R. by yourself. I’m hanging up and you’re calling him!”
I dialed Dutch’s number. He was there in less than 20 minutes and stayed with me until 3:30 a.m. Then he took me to Perkins for breakfast. We talked, ate and joked around making up fake diagnoses for my injuries (shaken brain syndrome). He dropped me off at my apartment (which is less than a quarter mile from his).
I gave him a hug, “Thanks for hanging out at the E.R. with me. I’m really sorry that it ruined your night, but I really appreciated it.”
“Jane, stop being ridiculous… it didn’t ruin my night and I didn’t mind at all. The nurses in your room were really hot! You know you should definitely go back there if you feel any residual effects from the accident. I’ll definitely come with!” We both laughed.
“You’ll be the first person I call Dutch.”
That night I had an epiphany. Dating is for the birds! (But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop anytime soon.) Boy Friends blah, they come and go! However, Best Friends… well, Best Friends are something special. They’re your surrogate family… they fill the role of Husband, Wife, Mother, Father, Brother and Sister. That’s a huge responsibility and the good ones always seem to rise to the occasion. (Thank God!)
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
The Much Anticipated Return of ... "Creepy John"
I had a wonderful time visiting my family last weekend. However, my cell phone kept acting up throughout the trip. It would shut off for no reason without my realizing it. I went hours at a time with my phone turned off completely. (Heaven forbid!) Little did I realize that this minor inconvenience would save me from inadvertently answering an incoming call from none other than... (Doo doo doo ... *dramatic music*) "CREEPY JOHN"!
He left the following voicemail: "Jane, hi this 'John'. I would like to talk to you. Please give me a call." I bet you are all wondering what he wants. Well, guess what... none of us will ever know, because there is NO WAY I am calling him back. (Not even for the sake of my curiosity driven readers.)
But, this is the theory that my warped and paranoid mind came up with to explain "John's" untimely call. I think that "Darin" really was a spy. However, he switched over to my side when he thought there was a chance I would go out with him. Once I dashed his hopes of a date by not returning 2 consecutive emails... he switched back over into spy mode and reported to his evil commander "Creepy John" the content of our conversations... namely the email in which I divulged the details of my date with 'John'. 'John' having read the email which elaborated on my utter disdain for him, decided to call me to clear things up. (What do you all think of my theory?)
He left the following voicemail: "Jane, hi this 'John'. I would like to talk to you. Please give me a call." I bet you are all wondering what he wants. Well, guess what... none of us will ever know, because there is NO WAY I am calling him back. (Not even for the sake of my curiosity driven readers.)
But, this is the theory that my warped and paranoid mind came up with to explain "John's" untimely call. I think that "Darin" really was a spy. However, he switched over to my side when he thought there was a chance I would go out with him. Once I dashed his hopes of a date by not returning 2 consecutive emails... he switched back over into spy mode and reported to his evil commander "Creepy John" the content of our conversations... namely the email in which I divulged the details of my date with 'John'. 'John' having read the email which elaborated on my utter disdain for him, decided to call me to clear things up. (What do you all think of my theory?)
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