Better at Bitter...

I work really hard at not being needy but apparently it doesn’t work because people seem to avoid me like a homeless person anyway so I’ve assumed now it’s not tentacle neediness that makes people I know avoid walking down my street in terror that they will encounter me but seeping bitterness that will wipe out all hope and joy that they’ve gathered in their life and make them wish someone would throw a pail of water on me so I’d melt away and disappear.

 First of all, that’s the best run-on sentence I’ve ever written in my life and I’m damn proud.

 
Second, you know that’s what happened to the Wicked Witch of the West, right?  I’m not going from the intricate details of “Wicked” or the original book but from the movie all 25-60 year old American’s were indoctrinated with.  The pretty little naïve chick and her gaggle of gay and incompetent men made a deal with a nasty old man to get rid of the one woman in town that wasn’t going to play by the rules.  She’d already moved to a bad part of town and had thugs and degenerates as her only friends.  She even had a security system installed in her house, not to keep out the neighborhood folks but to keep a good eye on the “white bread” society that she knew her very existence threatened.  They avoided her (I’m sure she was needy early in life but her bitterness was kind of legend by the time we get to the story) and when the opportunity arose, they concocted a plan to get her out of the picture.  The young, skinny chick did it, too.  She feigned like she didn’t mean it and it was a surprise but like all bitter women know, she did it on purpose.

What we don’t see in the movie is that Dorothy gets old and bitter too.  Yeah, she’s glad to be home at first and realizes how much she needs those folks around her to grow up but she’s headstrong and uses her feminine wiles to get what she wants.  That will only lead to being alone and eventually bitter.

 

I’m growing into my bitterness and starting to feel comfortable in parts of it.  I like dressing in black but haven’t gotten to the Morticia wardrobe yet…

 Case scenario #1:  It being winter and cold and I being equipped with big bouncy breasts and ample booty wrapped in a Snuggie, I have been getting hit on quite frequently as of late.  It is to be expected – I’m not a child.  It is cold, I look like I know where the food is and I will keep your bed warm and you happy.  But my Boyfriend Vacation has had an ugly turn.  I’ve been seeing through men again (and am coming to realize that it’s basically a superpower and I feel like Magneto after the Professor wiped his mind – I’m regaining my powers slowly) and probably have eluded more men than I know with my ability to make them invisible.  But there have been a few that have thrown themselves in my sights through aggression or just plain looking good.

 

One such nutcake was a very tall (6’5” at least), full bodied, beautiful light skinned young man who circled the block, parked, and walked across the street with a torn Achilles tendon to obtain my phone number.  He couldn’t even get close to me because my beloved Cudjo and the flu kept him at least 10 feet from me.  But he was persistent and seemed to have a good start.  He called frequently in the ensuing 2 days and we found we had much in common.  Then 4 days later, I found that we had much more NOT in common.  After a bad sexting situation that made the Evil Queen take over communications, conversation has been at a stand still.  I’ve decided I don’t like him but I only ignore him for a day or two when he calls or texts. 

 

What is surprising me is that I’m doing this in a land of famine.  My best friend is in a full-blown serious relationship that has left me playing hop-scotch with random strangers and avoiding her for fear she will say his name 10 times in a row when explaining things she likes or does (“I like red.  He likes red too.”  “Yeah, I can meet you for lunch at the pizza place.  Did you know he likes pizza too?”).  I also have picked up someone to mentor (her boyfriend turned into a Gargoyle *remember!* and she’s reeling from the wounds inflicted) but my heart’s not into it.  I find myself being more matter-of-fact than hateful.  I say things like “Don’t expect much from the next one.” and “I’m sure you’ll find another boyfriend but he’ll probably be just like the one that just left.  Make sure you can take care of yourself and don’t rely on him for much more than entertainment.”  Most of my girlfriends have found a Snuggle-Buddy for the winter.  The guys that chased me through the spring and summer have either found someone else as their Snuggle Buddy or I’ve pissed them off so bad, they’d rather get an electric blanket and use that while they watch the game.

 

So here I am and in a strange but disappointing way, I’m content.

 
I am lonely and would like someone to hug and kiss me and sit on the couch and watch cartoons until I fall asleep, wake me with coffee on a day off and let me rub his shoulders while he plays Assassin’s Creed or be his extra eyes during Halo.  I would like a guy that wants to talk all day about nothing and make it sound exciting and think that I’m mean and evil but secretly awesome and I think that he’s just as evil but addictively great…but after 42 years, I don’t think that guy really exists.  Yeah, I’ve had brief brushes with people that acted like that but their heart belonged to someone else or they had bigger issues that blocked out the sun.  So, I think I’m learning to deal with it in a good way.  I’ve embraced my hobbies like long lost friends; I’ve promoted my dogs to actual children status; and have decided to take a more serious interest in my friends, family, and those in need.  I know I’m slowly turning into an old person and I’m pretty pissed about that part but it feeds the bitterness in me and that’s okay. 

 I figure I’ll never be like Cinderella’s step-mother, who was straight up crazy bitter but still had kids to raise and someone else’s brat too and still had to deal with being lonely and the mother of ugly kids.  She was vicious but you couldn’t really blame her.  I don’t have such responsibilities so I identify more with the Wicked Witch of the West or Snow White’s nemesis…I have everything I need, I kind of rule my domain a bit, I don’t really pay attention to any snot-nosed, skinny, prettier-than-thou chick unless she tries to take my stuff.  But these princes/wizards coming through are barely worth acknowledging…so I think I’m straight on that level.

Turning Bitter...

It's been awhile...

'Nuff said about that...I have begun to realize in these early stages of elderlyhood that I have the most able capacity to be bitter in my old age. I don't mean the funky bitterness of being old and being severely dissed about it happening anyway, despite all the partying, wearing clothes that don't fit and keeping up to date with socially awkward or retarded media.  I mean the quite focused bitterness of being lonely and without mate through most of your adult life. I'd always imagined the Wicked Witch of the West was a widow, Snow White's step-mother was a widow, as was Cinderella's.  They were all wickedly bitter women, squashing the life out of young people everywhere, especially if they seemed to be trying to fall in love.  I feel that tendency coming on.  I feel my brows knot, my shoulders hunch, and my nails grow as I grab the air in a dastardly way whenever one of my young friends giggle-texts to me: "I'm in love."

Not that I'm against love.  I think it is a wonderful thing actually.  It's like watching to sun set over the Grand Canyon or it rain on Ayer's Rock in Australia.  When it hits close to home - and it does when it's one of my contemporaries - I feel the need to destroy something, like I missed out on going to the Olympics because I waited a month too long to apply.  And then there's that nasty divorce in my past.

I was talking to a friend tonight that compared a woman being sad at her girlfriend's wedding to being upset about a friend buying the same kind of car you wanted. I tried to explain that it wasn't jealousy that I felt but a bad taste in my mouth from a similar experience.  "If I'd had a previous car accident in the car that you wanted and lost 2 arms and leg, then I can't say I'd be too happy watching you buy the same car I was mauled in." I explained.  That's how I feel about weddings.  Yes, it's supposed to be a happy day and for the most part it is. But as my dear sister put it to me before I was married, "All these people are smiling in your face so you don't run.  You're about to make the biggest mistake of your life. That man is going to turn crazy and make you want to die." I'm sure that's how everyone who has ever been married has felt at one time or another.  Not to say for those with 30+ years in that is wasn't worth it.  I'm sure it was.  But who WANTS to go through that? Worth it or not?

I'm not complaining about love.  I'm not complaining about becoming bitter.  I'm trying to embrace it.  After all, where would all the fairy tales be if there wasn't a Wicked, Step-Something to be ill about the happiness therein?

Love this bandwagon...

Hi there...it's been awhile, I know. I've been busy. At the moment, I'm using wine corks to make the backsplash in my kitchen.  I'm quite archaic about it - I have 3 band-aids on one hand and my other hand is sore from pressing down on my specialized "tool" - a steak knife - to split the 400 or so corks I've collected over the years. It's coming along well though.  I have 3 feet or so at the moment covered and it looks good - but I know that's not why you check in to read this thing...

I read an article in Creative Loafing last week. I'd gotten away from reading the journal, if that's what you want to call it, in recent years at it seems to be quite political in most of it's articles (at least to me) but I needed newspaper as I was going to flea bomb my apartment, so I grabbed a couple on the way home from my walk.  I decided against the flea bombing (since I didn't know how to turn off my gas and didn't really feel like trying to figure it out) and put one of the papers in the bathroom - where I do most of my reading.

I came across an article in the sex part of the paper called "No Sex For You" written by Melysa Martinez.  She went on to talk about how men shouldn't just think that sex is a normal part of dating and I couldn't decide if I was more enamored by the fact that she was writing about such a high personal standard in the sex part of a public newspaper or that she was making such great points about how the mindset of many men was changing to reasonable and normal.  I've had guys ask me if I want to see their "member" - just to see it - as if viewing it will drive me in to a sex frenzy and make me attack them, reverse my ultimate and intitial decision, and have my way with them.  But I've had a couple of good guys (I can count of half of one hand) that have not attacked me at the first sign of being alone.

I always want to think the best of men but there are SO MANY that mess things up the first chance they get.  I have a good male friend right now that has gone out with a young girl a couple of times and thinks he's taking it too slow.  Taking it slow is not a bad thing.  Too many times men think that women are wined and then they get to dine on them, like it's the natural order of things.  And too many times, women think that since the dude spent so much money on them, they can't really say no.  I've felt that way and it took a lot of courage to say what I really felt.

But it seems like the rest of womanhood is jumping on the bandwagon and some of the more intelligent of the male species are also starting to think like humans.  Sex doesn't mean absolute fun.  Yes, it relieves stress but so does exercise and laughter.  Getting to know each other can make for so much more in the long run.  Friendship, good times, laughter, (and even exercise) can be the pay off if you just act normal and keep your hands to yourself...

Update...

Just reading over some recent posts and it seems that drama follows me (or I'm just a train that has jumped the tracks and this is all just collateral damage).  I figured I've put off this post long enough and for the 2 people that read my public diary, you may have been waiting for the late-breaking news of the Bahama trip.

It was a trip...I tell ya...

I had the most wonderful time so far this year.  I felt like I was in an interesting and meaningful version of the "Sex in the City" movie (which I have actually never seen but judging from what I've seen on tv, I'm sure my vacation was more interesting and meaningful).  I went with 3 of the most down-to-earth, fun-loving, giggly girls I know - it was more like we were a bunch of 13 year olds off on Spring Break and our parents were no where to be found.

We were so excited to be relaxing, nothing could really go wrong.  We didn't set a high level of agenda - our only major goal was to sit on the beach - so everything else was a plus.  By Friday night, we'd realized we were on the General Population boat.  There were 2 family reunions, 2 wedding parties, and a bachelorette party.  So a lot of women, older men with their wives and/or families and a mostly laid back vibe.  It was cool.  We were content to not have to overly exert ourselves socially trying to attract someone we found on the Lido deck.  We ran around in our bathing suits like we were at home and found anything to do that made us laugh.  We played practical jokes on each other, ate anything we wanted, took a million pictures of doing loony kiddie stuff, and just enjoyed each other's company.  One of the head waiters hit on me Saturday morning at breakfast and bought me a huge bottle of Patron for just being awesome to look at.  I high-5'd my gaggle because now we had free drinks on the boat for the rest of the trip.

And here's where the yard gate opened...

The Patron Head Waiter was serious about trying to talk to me and found us when we returned from the beach, and delivered his previously promised present.  Dinner came and by that time, we'd befriended the sommelier, a lovely young Romanian girl with the same fun-loving attitude that we had.  She came and hung out at the table with us while we perused through dinner.  We sat through 3 dinner times, chatting with her and the random and frequent waiters that kept coming by.  The Patron Head Waiter made frequent visits too, smiling, making sure none of us were without or in need.  It was an awesome dinner.  Then, he bent behind me and told me to close my eyes.  I just knew I was about to get chocolate cake! But when he told me to open them (and immediately left), one of my girls had a small box in front of them that they pushed toward me.  Everyone at the table seemed confused.  And when I opened the box and saw the Swarvoski heart pendant necklace, I was too. This was not chocolate cake and actually being unaccustomed to getting real gifts, I didn't know what I'd done to receive it.  He walked by several times, smiling and smiling. My girls made me put it on and all I could think of was how I was going to get out of seeing him later...

He turned out to be cooler than I thought though.  He was bold enough to come visit us all in our room and chat without any sense of nervousness.  He didn't try to sexually assault me (though he was obviously VERY interested in that area) and we ended up having very nice conversation. He asked if he could call me when I got home and has done so every day since my trip ended.

So, one more boy in the yard for the moment.  I have serious reservations but I'm working on not being such a wrecker ball to pleasant situations.  Every one tells me that I don't give friendship a chance and that I'm too logical all the time - well, they don't tell me that. They tell me I should control what I say and let the guy do what he would like to do for me without me calling him out on it.  Anyways, this dude is head over heels and is being very nice.  But, ya'll know this much about me...it won't be long...:-)

Boys in the Yard

I'm almost afraid to say it - it's barely been a week. But since I've been in this spot before, and know things can change within a day (I am going to the Bahamas this weekend so there's no telling what I'll meet on that trip), and that men are way more fickle than women, I can say with confidence that my yard is nearly empty again.

Now, yes, I suffice it say that I'm getting that connotation wrong but this is how I use it.  "Boys in my yard" mean men I'm dealing with, have a romantic interest in, or simply give me attention.

So recently the star players have been Sound Guy (you don't know that much about him and I'll tell you why later), Tow Truck Guy (or S.L.I. - and, by the way, I'm not in love anymore), Zoo Guy (S.A.), Thug Life, and The Scientist. 

Sound Guy and I have been at odds since day one and I sincerely believe that is the nature of our relationship. I hate him and he hates me.  We just like the electricity we generate when we get our guns hot on each other (and that's not a pun).  He dissed me in the worst way several weeks ago (I may have written about it - I can't remember) and since then, I have naturally avoided him. I've had other things to keep me occupied.  Anyways, I've come across him twice (while walking down the street) since I lost our last match and he's still waving his retarded victory flag - smiling big and waving like he didn't do anything wrong.  Actually like he did do something wrong and he just got away with it.  In my mind, we're like two anime cartoons and he's sitting on top of the mountain with rays of win streaming out from behind him and I'm in the valley, trembling with revenge...Like I said, it's the nature of our relationship.

Tow Truck Guy (S.L.I.) has made it safely to the Friend Zone and lives peacefully among the meaningful guy friends that have built a wonderful village there.  He is there when I need a moral and mental boost, tells me I'm pretty, sounds like everything he says is a fact, and thinks I'm wonderful.  He doesn't hang around much, we're down to talking every few days, and I even feel like I'm working at the friendship too (he'd skipped lunch the other day while working and got swamped with work. I'd cooked dinner and told him to swing by and I'd bring him some.  He did and thanked me immensely for saving his life.  He just drove by, picked up a tupperware of food, and drove off - loved it!)

Zoo Guy has disappeared but I'm not even phased.  He was having a hard time keeping his dates and commitments - I even asked him if this whole part of his life was a bad time to get to know him.  He insisted that everything was as good as it was going to be for the moment but that he was going through a very big transition with his life.  He'd just turned 30 (and I'm saying this from experience) and was trying to figure out if his career was worth pursuing after a very big setback, if he was the kind of man he wanted to be, you know, life stuff...so it's no real surprise he's disappeared. I'm sure he'll be back when he wants some eye candy on his arm for a cool festival or event he has to go to.

Thug Life and I have called it.  I called it actually.  It took a lot of courage to do so and it sort of surprised me that it did.  Since he texts me everyday, nearly all day, I had to tell him to actually stop.  That I did not want him contacting me anymore.  I must've sounded serious enough because he apologized and I haven't heard from him in two days. I was glad I'd put my foot down finally and ended such a dead end situation anyway but truthfully, as soon as I did it, I had a small panic attack and felt extremely sad.  I felt the need to eat cake or macaroni and cheese.  I didn't understand why I was having this feeling until I talked to a friend who mentioned that having someone call you every day and tell you how sexy you are and want you - well, it's something you want to happen. When it stops, even if it's from someone you don't want it from, it's disappointing in a way.  I had a whole rant about not having enough love from a male growing up, but her explanation seemed much simpler and made more sense.

The Scientist...hmmm.  Not even sure if I mentioned him but in truth, I haven't been able to categorize him yet.  The name I've tagged him with doesn't even fit because I haven't really explored what he's all about.  I do know I'm on the fence about him. He's not aggressive in any way and I'm not used to not being a ninja in a relationship. I was a little disappointed at our first real meeting and I have a feeling it may be a trend, but for now, he's just hanging around the gate - not sure if he's in the yard or not. It's different and I'll keep you posted...

So now that the recap is done, I have this to say.  I'm glad my yard is empty.  I was getting bored anyway. There has to more to this life than running around hoping for a man to decide who he is and if he wants to share a life with you.  Not that I won't revisit the situation (I may have juicy stories in just a few days).  I am a woman and my programming dictates that I desire to be mated and loved and cherished by the only other attractive and logical species on earth - a man.  But, I am a person first and I can actually do a whole lot with that - and make myself better for myself.  Good thing I'm into that too...

Older...

It is my birthday today.

I nearly forgot and to tell the truth, it has never really been a priority to me.  I notice it, I acknowledge it, but I've never had a birthday party or view it as my own personal parade and present confetti event...but that's another story...

Anyways, since I put so much work into finishing up my Pre-Bucket List before I turned 40 (now that WAS a milestone to me), then being in shock the whole time I was 40, and then crying about not being 40 anymore (when I turned 41), I don't really know how to feel this year.  Truthfully, I never imagined that I would ever really be this age.  I honestly never envisioned it as a child, didn't think about it as a young adult, and thought that 40 was the cut-off when I reached adulthood.  40 was when they put you out to pasture - you didn't have anything to prove anymore and didn't have the energy to prove it anyways.

So here I am today just chillin' at work.  First of all, I'm at work which is a never (I don't like people wishing me 'Happy Birthday' like I'm 12) but everyone else decided to take the day off so here I am.  And I'm not even upset about it.  I've been playing music to jam to all day, chair dancing, and getting some awesome work done.  Meanwhile, some of the boys in yard want to take me out this weekend so that makes me feel good.  My sisters have called to request that I slow time for them because when I get older, the clock ticks louder for them. I have yet to call my mom and thank her for pushing and putting up with my Dad so that I made it here alive.

I think I'm just a bit stunned at my lack of enthusiasm over this day for myself.  I'm usually happy to get older, if not inwardly so.  If not happy, I'm overwhelmingly depressed (I remember the intervention of 27) so it can only mean one thing for my attitude to be what it is...I've come to terms with my life.

Not all aspects of it, of course.  There are still huge sections that I need to improve and plenty of missions that I really need to abandon to be happy.  But the fact that I don't have boundless energy, never being sick or hurt, not having to sleep for days at a time...they're all gone.  I got all excited last night and wanted to go for a spin around the city and while I was thinking about it - I fell asleep.  For my morning run this morning, I literally talked myself into just ignoring my sprained Achilles heel because, as I put it, "it's just not going to get better so deal with it". I don't believe that I am acting this way.  The younger Audra is just about packaged up for storage so I have to welcome this new, relaxed, resolved (i.e. defeated) Audra.  I have to admit, not much surprises me anymore. Not much excites me either.  When I think of completely changing the course of my life and becoming an Armadillo biologist or Humboldt squid explorer, I feel excited for 2.5 seconds then yawn a "too much work" yawn.  If this keeps up, the next 20 years are really going to go downhill.  I will get a lot sleep, though, so I guess that's an upside.

I will resolve that I am content today and after 41 years as a human on this planet, I guess that's a decent place to be and as good as it gets in this system. :-)

Now, back to my chair dancing...*smile*

Thug Life...

Ok, so Thug Life is back...

He'd gone off on me a couple of weeks ago.  Said he'd been trying to see me for two weeks now and I kept avoiding him.  I had to re-explain that I WAS avoiding him because (1) we didn't have a thing in common and (2) he was an actual thug and I was a law-abiding citizen and (3) he was a young'n.

That being said, he merely ignored my logical argument and ranted about this being a stupid endeavor on his part and said the only thing that made me mad: "I don't get you girls in the South!  You take things too slow!"

First of all, I'm not from here.  Not that I don't love the South now - I've been here a really long time.  But I wasn't brought up here and my core tendencies are still set from up North.  I'm brash and adventurous, moody and voluptuous, shoot from the hip and take no prisoners. I've toned it down a bit since I've been here.  My mother is from the South so it's not like I didn't have any manners.  They just weren't Southern manners.  I've learned to say "Yes, ma'am" but only to older people and it doesn't come naturally.  I know how to act like I'm holding back an ocean with politeness but behind closed doors, I'll talk about you in a way I feel fits better.

So, that being said, I let him have it.  And seeing that he was from Long Island, he could take it.  We argued back and forth for a little while - I told him he needed to get his act together and be a man, he told me I need to back off the teasing and leave him alone.  So I did.

Next morning, he was back at it again with the "hello's" and "good mornings".  I asked him if he was sorry for being such a butt and he said he was. 

Thug Life is...smh...

This is going to be a long summer...

BGF

Well, another weekend, another experience.  Hope you have your wine...

Here goes..

After a lengthy and endearing conversation, I agreed to another date with S.A. He ended up having car issues but decided he would come to the Soapbox Races with me this Saturday.  Somehow I knew he would blow it (either of his own accord or by extenuating circumstances) so I went ahead and had a great time with my other friends that came to go.  It was an awesome day.  He did call and offer to do a make up dinner that evening.  I agreed.  And here's where I again went off the set track and deep into the brush...

Evening arrived and I hadn't heard from S.A.  I had, though, been chatting with S.L.I. all day as usual.  We were back to being just chums again and he even came up to the store where me and my girls were shopping to hang out for a bit.  So when night came and I still hadn't heard from S.A., when S.L.I. called to tell me he was finally done with work, I pouted about how my night had again not turned out like I'd hoped.  Like a charm, he promised to be at my house forth with.  It was 12:30 and I lamented that I just wanted a drink and good conversation.  Between us, that seemed to never be a problem.  It began to rain but we decided to walk to the tavern up the street anyway.  We were back again to talking of his past and life and drama and simple things that made us happy.  I couldn't help it - after 2 Long Island Ice Teas, I was all cuddly on him.  He enjoyed it and we stayed until the tavern closed. 

We walked back to my house and he told me he was going to take me over to his side of town for a tour.  We went to his brother's house which was basically another tavern and hung out there for an hour or two.  Then we went to his house and looked at all the pictures of his family and his father's baseball collection.  Then he took me home.  It was 6 am by the time I got into my bed. 

We didn't talk too much about what we'd discussed the last time we were out. He just kept smiling at me and I melted every time.  When he left, he smiled and I made the statement that he couldn't do that to me anymore - it was ruining our friendship.  He giggled and smiled again.

Such a good guy...this love thing is not wearing off as quickly as I'd hoped.

Anyway, weekend plans that started one way ended up another.  This is starting to turn into a pattern.  But as summer gets up to full speed, I'm really glad that I may have found a replacement BGF and that's he's a better model than the last...

Meet Up...Beat Up

I am writing this to complain.

As usual, the story is complicated, convoluted, and weird so go get a glass of wine and find your favorite cushion...

I joined a meet up group (like on meetup.com) after a conversation with my marketing manager and the lack of black girlfriends that I have.  We'd decided to have my booksigning at an Irish pub where there is a significant lack of color and I thought that since my book is about a woman of color, there should be women of color at my booksigning.  After a few reasonable solutions that were offered by my manager, I decided on the cockamamy solution I came up with on my own.  I would go to a meet up group that catered to black women who wanted to attract white men, befriend the women, and invite them to my book signing.  It seemed like a perfect plan.  Just like the many perfect plans you might see on Scooby Doo or the Flintstones.  But this is real life (though the outcome is kind of the same as on those cartoons)...

So I joined the most exclusive one I could find (they had a trial period, a questionnaire, and an approval process) and went to my first event tonight.

First of all, if you've read any of my posts, you will know that I'm a certified cougar now.  I got my cougar wings last year when I had 20 year olds hitting on me.  So, for this event, I was not on the prowl and I dressed for the occasion. I was going bowling, for goodness sake.  I dressed comfortable and looked like a cross between sitting at a tennis match and going grocery shopping - nothing fancy.  But lo and behold! When I walked in the bowling alley with my equally Charlie's Angel gal pal next to me, the place turned into a meat locker before my eyes.  Being childishly friendly, I greeted everyone with a smile and a handshake but the women in the group looked me over and then gave me their back.  The men looked afraid to take in my voluptousness and one dude nearly lost an eye when he snuck a peek.

I tried again.  They were playing a word game and I asked what it was about.  No answer, no one looked up, I heard them praying I would go away.  I asked if it was something that I could understand or if someone could show me how it worked.  One evil dated cougar mumbled "Figure it out."

I was aghast.  I glanced at my friend who'd come with me, a former mean girl, and she gave me the eye.  It was time to go. I, a former geek chick (still am!), said "no, let's see if we can work with this."  After the five minutes it took to win the game, we got a gift card and the ice brigade moved to the bowling lane.  We went and sat with them.

One of the friendlier women asked how long we'd dated interacially.  Who asks that question? In life?  My friend made up an answer and I looked like someone had asked me how long I'd known my kidney.  My stupid yet friendly answer was: "I have many kinds of friends."  Even I don't know what that means...

After ten more minutes, I decided I'd had enough.  Those that know me, know deep down inside, I am the Incredible Hulk - She-Hulk does not suffice.  Even I'm afraid of when I get bored or decide I don't want to be somewhere.  It's not anger that sets it off, it's boredom. 

In those ten minutes, I became dangerously bored.  The people weren't friendly to us.  A new white guy showed up and everyone introduced themselves like he brought doughnuts.  I looked at my friend and nodded.  She made herself scarce as I found the one chick that was friendly, told her that we'd stop by to check them out and now we were going, and handed her the giftcard we'd won.  "Give it to the second runner-up." I said, and left.  My BFF was giggling as we got in the car and I was livid from being iced by vintage cougars.

There is no happy ending to this story except now I know I really look as good as I feel and apparently don't look my age at all.  Other than that...those chicks can keep their little meetup group...I can find some black girlfriends on my own.

The problem with drinking...

I tend to gravitate to wine.  This is a habit formed when I was married to a Frenchman for 5 years.  Wine was like the period to every sentence.  It was with every meal and made every day just wonderful.  Now that I think about it, it's probably why our first 4 years were such bliss. So now that I've been single again for more years than I was married, it has basically replaced my husband.  We hang out every other day or so, depending on when I have to get up in the morning.  It works out - wine is the gorgeous boyfriend without the boring conversation or the need not to eat too much.

That being said (and Merlot laying next to me in bed stroking my arm), I am writing this blogpost under the influence.  I tend to be a little more honest and open than if you talked to me at 8 am.

I think I'm in love.

That statement in itself needs explanation which I will try to do in the most minimal of sentences (because even though I blog and write, I don't necessarily like to read).  I have come to the conclusion that I was in love with accidental BF#1.  After months of study and periodic sessions of thought and reflective data analyzation, I have come to the scientific conclusion that I must have been in love.  Why else would the universe form a perfect cycle around him, everything wrong with my life disappear when he called me, my heart break into pieces  that I can't retrieve when we decided never to see each other again, and every man I meet since not measure up to his image?  For a long time, I shrugged it off as nostalga and romantic nonsense.  I wasn't being logical with myself.  But now that time has passed and my heart can actually beat without assistance, I see that I was smitten with the number one heart disease in the world - love. That being said: now I can see the wisdom in what I've learned because now I can see it happeneing beforehand and not in the most pain imaginable aftermath.

I am trying (and this time, I really am) not to fall for the giddy ex-con that has made his way into the yard.  Honestly, I am not even quite sure how it has happened to end up this way because I was in no way attracted to him in a sexual way. It was all just fun and games - like when you meet a co-worker you just get along with naturally. Jokes, fun, and games - we talk the same way so it's easy to understand the sly comments we make to each other.  I LOVE a man with a similar sense of humor and we don't need to explain any jokes to each other.  Besides, the 3 times I've needed help this month, he's been on point - stopping work to help move furniture, taking the evening to work on my car, and rescuing my Saturday night from a bad date and making me the happiest girl ever.  The last event happened last night.  I'll try to sum up:

I'd gone out with a seemingly cool dude I met last week to an awesome event.  As awesome as he seemed, I spent most of the night dancing by myself and feeling neglected. Not being the patient and hopeful girl I'd always aspired to be, I called said love interest to whine about the date being a bust.  He promised to pick me up where S.A.(Seemingly Awesome) had dropped the ball and would meet me at home when he dropped me off.  10 minutes after S.A. dropped me, S.L.I. picked me up, took me to shoot pool and bought me more drinks. He is a reformed thug, thick and pretty - so smooth, it takes actual thought to stop yourself from jumping on him and kissing him senseless.  But he's old and a little chubby, so it's easy to keep your focus once you've decided how it's going to be.  I hugged him like a fireman to the rescue when he showed up - he giggled excessively - and I actually thanked him for rescuing me. While we played pool, I let him hug me, caress my body and make inappropriate comments - he kept the drinks coming and paid for everything up front.  He made friends with the bartender, so I knew he was a pro.  He let me talk about everything that had happened that night and told me similar stories of his life. Afterward, he got into a little funk about a dear friend who had died taking a bullet for him (I'd also been to a funeral earlier that day so our conversation was extremely reflective) and decided to show me the places he'd hung out before his incarceration.  They were scary areas but he looked at home in the crack addict haunted areas of Atlanta.  Thugs and cops patrolled every corner and now I knew why I'd never turned down those particular streets. It was an eye opener and only when he asked "So, do you have enough for your blog?" did I realize how much he thought of me.  He giggled, held my hand, and he drove me home.
On the street where I live, we chatted more about his life and mine, how different and how vivid they both were with past loves and regrets.  Finally he told me that though he had an agenda he was working at, I was not in his plan but he didn't know why he kept finding himself at my street. "There are some things that just happen and there's nothing you can do about it." he said. He kissed me then and what was the worst about it, was that it was just right - it was awesome. I knew that feeling - I'd been there before. My heart set off a certified, Star Trek Enterprise, Red Alert - this was not a drill.  I told him that this was a problem and I was leaving.  He insisted on walking me to the door.  I told him he could walk me to the gate but it would be difficult for him to leave.  We talked some more at the gate about how we shouldn't/couldn't be together in any scenario and then I asked him to take me to Hawaii. (it was really late ya'll, and I had an exorbitant amount of alcohol to drink in one night).  He figured up the cost and decided he would.  He also decided I needed a new car and asked me what I wanted.  It took us both by surprise, the happiness we felt when we imagined being together.  He told me to go in the house even tho he had to use the restroom.  I told him to come in the use it instead of "watering the bushes".  He stopped and showed himself to be the irresistable gentleman that had my heart.  "No, this is difficult.  You go on in. If I come in, I won't want to leave and I should leave.  You go home now." He shook his head in disbelief of his own words and backed up with a smile.

Ok - that's a lot of details but they made an impact.  I kissed him, wished him goodnight, and went home.  When I got in the house, I took off my shoes, put my purse down, and patted my dogs.  I made my way down the hall - and it shook.  I put both hands to hold the wall still and realized in those moments that it took to stop rocking that my heart had been compromised.  Compromised.

I'm not a sucker. At least not all the time.  I don't even like 98% of the men I go out with - I just want a great experience without coming out of my own pocket and to be pampered.  This guy exceeds that and I can't measure it.  He has the potential for being very dangerous to my current course of action.

Today he called to see how I was and I asked him how he felt about last night.  He said it felt like a movie. Something so surreal he couldn't understand it.

Don't tell a reformed romantic mess like that.  I told him I felt that same but I was glad we were both adults because we can't give in to that nonsense. (His answer: "if you say so").  We talked about movies and first dates, cars and phones, work and old friends...anything but about how we felt.  I wanted to yell, "My heart is yours! Whatever you say, whereever you go!" but I didn't.  I laughed at our awkward silence, the aching heart I heard on the other end of the phone, and prayed he wouldn't come over without calling.

Yeah, I'm in love.  I just hope it wears off soon...

I'm falling...

Can you open a blog post with a song?  It's the theme of this post so check out James Blake "The Wilhelm Scream"...I want to write the words but I'd have to listen to it 200 times (I have the memory of a gerbil) but they are very poignant.  "I don't know about my dreams anymore. All I know is that I'm falling. Might as well fall." yeah...there you go.
Now back to my theme...

If you've read any of the other posts before this one, you will know that (1) I didn't do WBFX this year because I was tired, (2) I am presently on "boycation", and (3) I've discovered a horrible fetish that I am working night and day to diminish.  Those things being said, I have to admit a sobering truth - the guys that have been hitting on me lately have not been in the same league as I think I am in.

Case in point: This morning while darting into Kroger for snacks, there was a 70 year old part-time worker cleaning the stainless steel throughout the store.  He looked liked he'd either had a stroke recently or just lived with injuries sustained during the Vietnam War.  Either way, in his stainy Kroger uniform, he felt comfortable asking me if I was married in a sly "Shaft"-like voice. (I lied and declared I was happily married!) As I made my way to the self-checkout line, a young Maxwell wannabe who, now that school was out, manned the self-checkout lanes in the daytime, asked me about my hair.  We chatted about hair as he milled about and soon he was hammering me with questions about my job, where I worked, along with smiles and shrinking personal space.  I got out of Dodge before I was arrested for corrupting a minor.  As you can see just from those two examples (believe me, there are tons more and tons worse), I am apparently not attracting the kind of guy that I think can get along wonderfully with my personality, that can afford to go to the places I like to go, and well - either doesn't have an AARP card or a school ID.  Not that I'm knocking older guys (this time).  They tend to have money and (used to) have the lock on decency and chivalry.  Not that I'm knocking younger guys either.  They have energy, ideas, and are always ready to go when you are.  My issue is the type of person approaching me.  They don't even match what I think I look like.  And generally, I feel they're looking for someone who looks like they care.  I know I wear a "How Can I Help?" look on my face.  It's why I do so well as a hostess of anything. My face must tell men that I will accept anyone's try without making them feel bad for trying.  And most of the time, I will.  I've accepted numbers before because I felt bad about declining to talk to them later.

I need to figure out how to stop this vicious circle.  Well, it's not vicious per se, but I'd like to find a handsome, tall, well rounded guy who's funny, never been to prison, and doesn't believe having sex is like ordering dessert after dinner.

Is that too much to ask?

I have discovered that I have a fetish. A course of action to which one has an excessive and irrational commitment.  This course of action is to attract and attain attention from the most uncommon of men.  I am, by nature, moderate in general habits.  I am not flamboyant and gratuitous. I am contemporary and usually dream of normal, morally upstanding situations. So, I generally wish to find a mate along those same lines.  That's when I wish to find a mate. 

When I'm bored (which is a lot of the time), I think of more exciting things but I don't meditate on them. My chief fantasy at the moment is to actually be ravaged by Batman but since he doesn't actually exist, it's not that harmful of a fantasy.  It is when I find myself on a strange yet exciting course of action that I cannot seem to deviate from that I get scared - and absolutely thrilled at the same time.  This is leading to my now known fetish.  Attracting men that should only dwell in fantasies.  Gangsters, thugs, opulent men.  I don't know any of these men - they don't dwell in my circle of friends.  I generally gravitate to modest, thoughtful, family men who believe in God or some kind of humility. But when it comes to imagination, those men are boring.

Case in point: twp of the men in the yard at the moment (one got booted today but he refuses to leave). In hindsight, I think I've shown signs of this fetish before but thought I was just acting out.  I remember a brief fling when I was in my twenties with a tatted up, nose and ear ringed, bald headed white guy who took me on our first date to the backwoods of Acworth on a lake.  I remember thinking that I was going to be killed by this Nazi - he was really sweet though and ruined my expectations.

Man #1 - an ex-con with a heart and smile of gold, giggly and helpful, and full of war stories of his past life. It makes him generally safe though he doesn't stray too far from his old acquaintances but keeps his distance. He is almost therapeutically honest - telling the most detailed yarns of his past and horrible things that he's done.  He includes the consequences of his actions and his losses, so he's not boasting.  I at first found him thrillingly intriguing but now see him as a just a really good resource.  I noticed a change in my attitude when I realized that he did not live the life that he talked about anymore.  I became constricted with my time with him.  I didn't really have anything to say or ask.  I looked at the time on my phone while he yammered on.  I got bored.  I didn't mean to and it wasn't on purpose. But when I questioned myself on the main goal in pursuing his attentions, the answer was "thrill".  I'd never known anyone who'd been in jail several times on drug charges before.  Not anyone I felt comfortable talking to.  But he was past that and so I picked his brain about his experiences and as he got off on my suffocating attention, I grew bored with the way his stories all ended a few years ago when he decided to leave the life of crime and become a better person and parent.

Man #2 - never even been anywhere with him but his texts are so smooth, they leave you wanting to rob a bank and run off with him to Compton. At least that's what they do to me.  I finally put my foot down and told him we had nothing in common so anymore communication was a waste of both of our time.  All day I've gotten texts that compare our likes and dislikes in the most absurd connection ("You write books - I write raps").  I'm down to just ignoring the texts and not answering. But my fetish is pulling at me - making me fantasize about hanging out with a weed-smoking, gangsta rap, Lil Wayne-like, ghetto fabulous, super confident and aggressive young man. 

How do you live with such an absurd fetish?  I don't want any of this to touch my real life.  I can't be seen in public with any of these men and have no more in common with them than a groupie has in common with the idol of her affections.  And most of all, I'm fickle.  In the moment or two when they become "real" people, I'm done, off to find my next thrilling person that I've never known before. 

Well, as with all things, I'll work at my self-control.  I know they don't teach that anymore, but such an old-fashioned notion works wonders and has saved me in the past. It's just really hard walking past that long loc'd, gold tooth, tatted up, muscle-bound dude in the pimped out Escalade these days...sheesh!

Yes, I know winter is a long way off but I was feeling bored as of late and decided to repopulate the yard, if just for a free dinner.  I know that sounds shallow but seriously - with my new budget, I'm strapped and can't seem to be able to support my weekend party habits like I used to.  I'm not wild but I am addicted to Starbucks and love cool places to be in the middle of the night. So that being said, I put on my game face just to see if anyone was willing to play. 

My neighbor and friend needed a tow for her beloved Miata (I felt her pain - her car and mine are like sisters) and I had an extra tow on my AAA. Enter the tow truck driver who was friendly, funny, and helpful.  At the end of the ordeal, he called to let us know her car had made it safe and sound to her mechanic's shop and if she needed anything, I could call him.  I told him I would and resounded some the earlier banter about faulty GPS, our similarity in age, and his ability to tell a good story.  He asked if he could save MY number in his phone.  I told him sure and from that day we chatted off and on every other day or so.

Now this past weekend, I was driving past a garage sale and stopped to look. I found the armoire that I'd been looking for since I moved.  It was real oak, lovely and undamaged, and most importantly - cheap.  I bought it the next day and all I had to do was find a a truck and a couple of strong backs to move it to my house.  This conundrum should be in the Guiness Book of World Records as the make or break question to many a friendship.  I went through my entire contact list, starting with the boys in the yard.  Only the new tow truck guy dropped what he was doing to come and help me.  Though, to be fair, the other 98% had valid excuses (i.e. being out of town, having the kids for the weekend, etc.).  My BGF, who recently decided that we were friends again, merely texted me "Sorry. Busy." Now, this man has way less of a life than I do and has more freedom to decide his fate than most men his age.  I took it as a snub and conjured all my abilities to make his life miserable in the days to come.

But back to the story - my sister and I got the armoire out of the back of her SUV and onto the sidewalk.  Tow Truck Guy showed up on cue and with gloves in hand, took over the situation and laid out a 3 person plan to get this heavy piece of furniture up the many flights of stairs to my home.  Just then, a dude comes sauntering down the street and says: "That looks heavy. Need some help?" I thought he was joking or homeless until he mentioned he had a dolly in his truck.  He disappeared. Several minutes later another guy came up to us and said: "That looks heavy. Need some help?"  I was starting to think this was a new episode of "Punk'd" until he hollered at the previous guy who now was headed towards us with a dolly.  In a matter of literal minutes, they had my armoire in my living room. I thanked them like they were gods from the sky, my sister tipped them generously, and the Tow Truck Guy hi-fived them like they'd all planned to help me weeks before and it came off without a hitch.

My point is, I've never had my point of view and attitude changed so fast by people I didn't know.  Previously, I was a little disappointed in people - as I went through my contacts and found out of 250 of my closest friends, not one of them was available to help me without notice.  Only the new guy was willing and happy.  And then strangers ended up helping - without notice.  I decided I was wrong about people (not by BGF - just people) and if my attitude could change that fast, when I helped others that weren't expecting it - it most likely had the same effect. 

That was a good day.

And the Beat Goes ON...

Ok, back to the grind.  I'm promoting my first romance novel (IKR? Bleh! https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/145171 ) and it is more exhausting than I imagined but worth it.  People love LOVE...I love the initial high of love but not the clean up...Anyway, since whoever is watching is the only person that hears me talk in my own private padded room of blog, I can say what I really feel. Yeah!!!

A couple of things, I guess: Here we go...

1) Evil Villian of the Past got to me this past weekend and I'm reeling from the attack.  He said all the right things but we're no more BFFs than we were a month ago.  I don't know what to say or how to act.  My cougar tendencies are trying to come out like the Hulk and make it all nice and neat.  I just want to tell him: "Yeah, thanks for the nice evening.  It was cool hanging out with you but you don't really have to talk to me anymore."  I don't know if that's the right thing either.  I haven't felt this undecided since 2 for 1 day at Gigi's Cupcakes...

2) I had to be a social butterfly for 2 weeks straight and it exhausted me so I escaped for the weekend to tour around Florida and it was awesome.  I hung out with my Mom (who is her own reality show so that was really fun) and visited for a full day with an old friend and his family.  He is still awesome and somehow managed to find an equally awesome woman to mate and share his life with.  I love, love, love their kid and had a great time.  Finally, hit up Jacksonville and picked up a co-worker/college roomie on the way home - good times had by all (though I wanted to punch her gay-husband in the face but I feel better now).

3) I am having a hard time with my emotional balancing as of late.  True, I've had a few ringers thrown at me (the elbow rubbing and the constant grinning show face to promote my book and have people do things for me is sucking the life out of my soul, the breast cancer checkup this past Monday which turned out good - still benign!, taking over my Mom's bills when she thinks like a Kardashian = stress, getting physically close to an old school mate who still (! - 10 years later) has a crush on me - how do I NOT feel like a prize after hanging out?) but I am not completely off course like I would've been in the past.  I just know my feelings are on my sleeve this week (I was bawling at my WW meeting - WTH?) So, I'm trying to make a concerted effort to avoid the Bad Boys of Audra's World (newbie Captain Crush and one of the last 2 winter BF's) because in this state I do nothing but make bad decisions...help!

4) Meeting cool people though.  I've met a fellow blogger www.maggielea.blogspot.com/Cached who lives in my complex and I'm really excited about her blog and will be following religiously...I've met several writers at my job and we've decided to make a writer's club of sorts since we're all there 8+ hours a day...Fado's in Atlanta is becoming my (very expensive) new hangout but I have to admit they bring the soul of Ireland to Atlanta - friendly folks and they make you feel like you're supposed to be there...

5) Went out with a 52 year old 2 weeks ago and I've set a new bar - NOONE OVER 35!  That is a whole other story since this post is getting too long for me to edit without losing interest.

So that's it ya'll  - I'm back on the horse and all 2 of you should be hearing a lot more from me lately (if there are that many :-)

"Brannigan, Begin Again"...

Not that anyone reads this but I have been through my own personal hell for the past year or so.  Some days it didn't seem as hellish - it seemed kind of normal so I forgot I was still in hell (I'm dense like that) but the next day, it was back to hell.  I went through a bit of therapy for the first time in my life and it was enlightening.  I have plans now, to combat my mighty mind and inclinations...and so far they work perfectly.  Since the only issue I have in life is with relationships, I have my own 12 step program to keep me from feeling less than worthy, haughty, or super-selfish in a protective kind of way.  Today, I had my first real test.  You know when you're in school and they give you those rinky-dink exams the teacher made up all to prepare you for the SAT's - mother of all tests and the only one that will really effect your life?  I had my relationship SAT today.  I know I passed my homemade tests okay (deflected a cougar opportunity with a 6'7" hottie who was 28 - that was hard!) but here was the kicker...a homie I knew way back when I was married, into everything I"m into, but...There are so many "but"s that I can't even go into them...I can't even catagorize them in my brain.  My training is in high gear and I keep hearing this red alert: "You don't even want to be in a relationship" but all my negative traits are doing nothing but stockpiling weapons for a real war.  Seduction, my Inner Cougar, Super Sexy, Butt N Boobs - they read like villain roster and they're just as evil.  They all tried their hand tonight and yet I thwarted their plans.  They will all be back tomorrow, well rested and ready, with Hormonal Horny riding shotgun but I've got to keep this one in the container.  I don't want to end up with just another bad story of a relationship gone bad because I didn't exercise self control or patience.  I don't want to lose a potential great friend because I want to be spoiled, sexed, or cuddled.  I need more than just a plan, I need a fail-proof plan - like Batman when he sits down to think a caper out.  I need to not fail on this one and perhaps it will make me stronger in the future...one can only hope...