Caterwauling

“I’m thinking it over
The way you make me feel all sexy, but it’s causing me shame
I wanna lean on your shoulder
I wish I was in love, but I don’t wanna cause any pain
And if I’m feeling like I’m evil; we’ve got nothing to gain.”

— Banks, “Waiting Game”

There’s a guy who looks like one of my former beloveds who walks his dog on the A1A every day.

And although it is most definitely a former beloved, I still smile when I see him. I smiled at him today, in fact. After all, anyone who wanted to be with me can’t be all bad, right?

I thought about the old beloved yesterday. That’s because someone asked me to go to a concert where I’m not overly wild about the artist.

Last time I went to a concert, I didn’t have to pay because … well, I assume it was because it was “his” band. But maybe it was supposed to be a date. I dunno.

At that concert, we were tailgating and I met a military guy who kept pouring Fireball shots in my mouth. And I ended up texting with someone who I would later, ah, hook up with.

So, yeah. Me and concerts, man. Maybe I SHOULD go!

***

Wait, where was I?

***

Actually I got to thinking about TWO guys from my past. Given that one was said guy I was texting. 🙂

When I was 19, he invited me to a concert. And I was so smitten with him that, even though I deplored the music, I was all about going.

At some point, though, I wondered why he wouldn’t invite another of our friends. As I wrote in my journal at the time, “Why doesn’t he ask XX to go? She enjoys that crap.”

And he did. Without telling me. Or taking me!

Sidebar: That we ever reconnected is a mystery for the ages. A wonderful one, though.

In any event, I was willing to pay for a concert I didn’t want to see. Why? BECAUSE OF A BOY.

***

So when I saw the guy on the A1A it reminded me of when HE wanted to take me to a concert. I was willing to pay but I bet he wouldn’t have let me. Even though I know it was a hardship, he always took care of me.

That concert fell through too. It was Valentine’s Day a few years ago and I think that weirded him out.

But still. I had no problem spending time and money on these guys.

***

So I have this brand-new invitation to go to a concert this summer. And I was admittedly an asshole and said, “Wow, the summer is really far away.” And never followed up with a real reply.

I mean, he would PROBABLY pay. And I do have several MP3s from the band. So even if I do pay (and I would prefer to), I would have a good time.

But I got to thinking. Is that money I want to spend, when there are so many concerts I miss that I’d kill to see?

The thing is, he’d probably go with me to those, too.

And that whole, “What else could be in store if I let it be?” is what scares the crap out of me.

***

I don’t know why I’m genetically pre-programmed to be an asshole where this guy is concerned. I like to think it’s self-preservation.

In other words, I know I’m wasting his time if I’m the least bit encouraging. I don’t want to get into something I can’t finish.

But like I said the other day, what if the universe keeps bringing him back into my life for a reason?

(Oh did I mention he was at the concert where I was all Fireballed up?)

***

Funny how I have a revolving door for my cast of characters — and the same ones keep coming through it.

Same happens at work. It’s a tiny industry and everyone comes back around again. Everyone.

The jury is still out on the concert. I think I’ll go. Assuming we’re still “friends or whatever” five or six months from now.

A lot can happen in that time.

That’s what I’m hoping for.

But *what exactly* I’m hoping for is anybody’s guess. Most of all, mine.

It seems the only people I know with journalism degrees who actually have a grasp on style, grammar and sense came from my college.

Editing edits continues to shorten my lifespan. Dramatically.

Talking with another of my boys …

Him: You really need to save your sanity somehow.

Me: I will kill them with kindness until I can just kill them.

Him: If you need a partner in crime, just let me know.

Now THAT’s a friend!

I’m loving all the love this week …

“I don’t have to meet your mother
We don’t have to cross that line
I don’t wanna steal your covers
I just wanna take your time
I don’t wanna go home with you
I just wanna be alone with you.”

— Sam Hunt, “Take Your Time”

What a good day.

Last night sucked. I logged in late (Sunday night) to do work. And the people for whom I was doing this extra work were being buttheads in my inbox.

If I didn’t have loyalty to the broader team and meet the deadline if only for them, I am not certain I would still be employed. I would likely have a restraining order against me though.

In any event, I held my tongue all day today too and all was calm and bright.

One of my boys is leaving town. So I put a little gift in his bag. He and I had the best conversation ever when he got home and found it.

Turns out he knew I did it but was afraid to open it in the building because he knew I’d make him cry. 🙂 But his thank-you to me made ME lose my shit just a little.

In any event, my heart swells with joy at the unlikely friendship we’ve developed.

I had only one person I wanted to share this with, and I love it that we had a couple of chances to connect today. It has been wonderful. I tell him everything and I love that he roots for me and is happy when I’m happy.

I feel the same when he’s the one who’s happy.

In one sense I would never call it the L word. But in another sense, isn’t being each other’s biggest fan the very definition of it?

In any case, I loved sharing my happy moments (and even the cruddy ones) with my best friend.

In addition, an old friend started a new job today and called me to say let’s go drinking. And we did. And we had so much fun.

He’s the only one I’m ever 100% honest with when it comes to my relationships. I don’t reveal details but it’s nice to be able to tell someone what’s swirling in my little brain.

What I didn’t tell him is that one of my boys has been texting me all day, trying to see where I am with going out with him.

This has been a multi-year process and I’ve fought it the whole way.

I wonder whether this is the universe saying, “Hey Goddess, if you want love, quit passing it up every time I try to hand it to you.”

Why doesn’t he give up? Don’t you people know how difficult I am? Is he a sucker for punishment, or am I that special?

I don’t know. But I do know this: thanks to all my sweet guys, I had a hell of a good day today.

Ever start talking to someone new and pretty much put it out there that there will never be any sex?

Funny how many people have NO IDEA how easy I was/am/can be.

These days I get screwed enough with my clothes on. These crazies may leave lingering effects in my brain, but no exposure to vajayjay-proximate infestations means I still win.

I’m not giving people a reaction.

I’m not giving people a reaction.

I’m not giving people a reaction.

But I will say this.

Biting off the hand that feeds and using it to wipe your ass? BAD IDEA.

There’s good news all around me — two sets of friends who have been trying for years to conceive, just gave me their good news that they are expecting … a friend who unceremoniously got tossed from his job just landed a better one … a long-awaited divorce is coming through for another friend … and still another got a dream job.

The list goes on. And I haven’t found myself on it. But I hope with all this good momentum in the air, something will finally pan out.

I found the cutest apartment. Clean, modern and on the Intracoastal. But before I could hand them a check, someone else took it. I’m crushed, to say the least.

It wasn’t a dream apartment but given the nightmarish one I’m in, it was an upgrade.

A friend has come through to help me save the day. But inventory, the second it hits the market, comes off the market.

Apparently other people don’t have 100,000 riveting words to write/edit per week and can actually jump up and see places when they become available. Lucky them.

Florida isn’t like a normal area where people give two months’ notice and there is time for new people to see/claim the unit. Nope. Shit is empty for a minute, and therefore whoever has the cash in-hand fastest gets the unit.

I was telling mom, getting an apartment here is like being single and 40. You’ve waited this damn long for the perfect place or person — do you really have to start taking certain “must-haves” off the table in order to get SOMETHING you can live with?

And if you lower your standards, will what you find ever be enough?

Thank God for the ability to move again, or to break up with someone. But damn, the financial and emotional torture having the wrong one — or none at all — puts you through in the meantime …

The Debilitating Scars of Bullying

“Adults who have been bullied as children can unconsciously regress into the role of the victim. They may not create situations in adulthood where they’re bullied, but they feel as if they are.”

Hmmm.

The other day, my friend Michael said, “You hide behind this ‘air sign’ b.s. and you never say what you want. I know you. You know exactly what you want. You say you’re fine with ‘whatever’ and maybe you are. But you act like you don’t care and you do. Say what you want.”

In any event, I’m not a fan of people conveniently blaming their childhood or their relationships past or jobs past, as a way of not dealing with the present.

Conveniently blaming, I said. God knows we’ve all been scarred by one or more of them.

In any event, I won’t name names or write stories. But I wonder if I really worked through some of the “feeling very small” incidents from my youngest years have contributed to the mess I can be, more than I ever realized.

I like to use the phrase “bread and circuses.” Well, I really like to use the phrase “OOOH SHINY.”

In any event, there’s a disturbing pattern in my world that can be traced back to Ancient Rome. And it’s that, when things go to shit, we have to distract ourselves with shiny and fun things.

In Ancient Rome, it was the government providing the shiny things. Here in my world, sometimes you have to provide it for yourself.

I have this recurring nightmare. It’s a circus filled with assclowns that I cannot escape. I try so very hard to run this circus and make all the performers happy. Yet they all declare mutiny and run their clown car over me.

It’s a daily nightmare lately. And the amount of mental calories it burns, if translated into body calories, would put me back at birth weight.

I don’t want to burn any more calories this way. This shit is sending my cortisol through the roof. Even when I eat right, I put on pounds. And while I don’t want to assign the blame to this recurring nightmare, I don’t think it can be denied that I am going to want to find a way to NEVER HAVE IT AGAIN.

Eternal sunshine, anyone?

Editing. Drunk. But humming all the while …

“I got the first kiss and she’ll get the last
She’s got the future, I got the past
I got the class ring, she got the diamond and wedding band
I got the boy, she got the man.”

Jana Kramer, “I Got the Boy”

One can’t help but wonder which of us got the better end of the deal.