-He lived too far away. And then he moved. And now he lives even further away.
-He is older than me. By ten years. Which doesn’t bother either of us, but I know it will bother my sometimes protective brother, father, brother-in-laws, cousins, uncles, and friends.
-He’s smart, funny, spontaneous, adventurous, caring, sensitive, artistic, creative, happy, trusting, trustworthy, honest, and engaging. Basically, going back to point #1. Too good to be true.
**************************
I thought I was going to be able to come up with more than this. And I cannot. Maybe there isn’t anymore? Maybe he’s not as unrealistic as I think he is. Maybe he’s just what I need, what we both need. And maybe I shouldn’t be scared to let people in anymore. Maybe I should let him be mine, and mine his. And maybe I should stop thinking of him as Mr. Unrealistic and starting thinking of him as Mr. Perfect. Because that’s really what he is when all is said and done.
Because he makes me smile.
And he cares about me.
We can talk about anything and everything.
For hours.
He holds me whenever he has the chance.
Calls me to say hello and that he was thinking of me.
Takes pictures of himself making funny faces and sends them to me.
Just to know that I smiled that day.
Tells me jokes just to hear me laugh.
Makes me buy a Christmas tree.
And helps me decorate it.
Loves to sit on my couch and drink hot chocolate with me.
He loves the sound of my fingers typing and the faces I make when working on my book.
Because he says he can really hear me think when I do that.
And to him, it’s beautiful.
Because he will not see his family, just to spend Christmas with me.
And I won’t let him.
(Even though I want to…)
Because family is important.
And because he tells me he’s going to marry me someday.
And that he’s never felt that way about anyone before.
And he’s already told everyone that.
Even though most of them have never met me.
He says they know he means it.
Because he does.
And even if he doesn’t mean it, it still makes me smile.
And that’s enough for me.
For now.
**************************
Mr. Perfect.
Perfect.
She frantically types on her laptop. Her fingers seem cartoon-like they’re moving so fast. Her face is serious, and her eyes never leave the computer screen. Handsome men walk past her, sometimes twice each in hopes of catching her eye. But her eyes never move. They hardly even blink. One man even gets brave enough to interrupt her.
“Excuse me? May I have the sugar?” He motions towards the community sugar pourer. He is hoping for more than just the sugar pourer. He yearns for the eye contact, a half smile/smirk even, and an introduction would be ideal.
“Yea, no problem.” She reaches behind her laptop, picks up the sugar pourer and hands it to the gentleman without once looking away from what she’s working on. In fact, she’s still typing just as fast, but with only one hand now.
He hesitates. “Thanks.” She doesn’t acknowledge his thanks or his presence. He looks crushed. And I wonder, why didn’t he ask for the sugar on my table? It’s not that I wanted him to, but I thought it was strange that she was clearly working hard on something and he had no problem interrupting her, and yet he didn’t even notice that I was in the room, and reading leisurely with an unused sugar pourer on my table as well.
Perhaps it is because I do not have long blonde hair as she did. Or that my eyes are not ice blue. Maybe I don’t appear as important as she does since I am not typing on a laptop on my coffee break as she appears to be doing. Maybe I don’t look single, though I am. Is it because I was not wearing any make-up? My suit was not as expensive as hers? Maybe it’s because my heels were only three and a half inches tall as opposed to her four inch heels.
King walks in and we share less than ten minutes of small talk before I ask him why he thinks that man didn’t ask me for the sugar. I love to know another person’s point of view and why it is that men do the things that they do. And King willingly shares his opinion.
“Dean, you have to understand that you’re not like most women.” He tells me something that I already know, so I just nod and await to hear more. “Men are very simple creatures.” I would love to agree whole-heartedly but something inside me tells me it’s not as simple as that, that there’s more to men than people, even other men, give them credit for. And still, he continues. “You are not what men would consider approachable.” I didn’t know how to take that. Was I being complimented or insulted?
“I don’t understand. I thought I was easier for men to approach because I am not like most women.”
“As much as men don’t want to admit it, they are instantly attracted to the women who appear to be high maintenance. But in the end there’s nothing there other than lust. You’re the kind of woman men can fall in love with. Because if men were given the opportunity to build their perfect woman, you would be it. You’re beautiful, and not the typical kind of beautiful. You’re the girl next door kind of beautiful but with the edge that men love. You have a fantastic sense of humor and a heart made of gold. You’re loyal, adventurous, and open-minded. You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for, incredibly talented and have so much potential.” He pauses, and I think it’s because he noticed that I blushed. “I just mean that you’re the kind of girl that men would love to bring home to Mom and marry, but someone to have fun with too. You’re the best friend and the lover, that’s rare. You look just as sexy in a short, little cocktail dress as you do in jeans, a hoodie, and a baseball cap.”
“I’m sensing a ‘but’.”
“Well, there is one. Like I said, you don’t appear to be high maintenance. Your nails are nice, but one solid color and they’re your’s. You don’t have highlights in your hair and you have no make-up on. Now, you don’t need it, but it sends a different kind of message to men. She’s over there typing like a madman, and while I don’t know her, I am willing to bet my life on it, that she has nothing more important to say than you do. That she’s probably not even half as smart or funny as you are. That she’s not as interesting or caring as you. And quite honestly, Dean, you’re sitting in a coffee house alone drinking a black tea with nothing in it reading the New York Times in a pant suit. I must say, that is a beautiful set though. Ann Taylor?”
“Yes. On sale!”
“I love it. I always tell you that winter white is your color; you need more of it in your wardrobe. Anyway, see how she’s wearing a pink suit? Much more feminine. Not that anything about your suit is masculine, because there isn’t. And actually, though she’s wearing a skirt and you’re wearing pants, you look better in your suit than she does in hers. I can tell she got hers on sale too, and it’s not the right size or a flattering cut on her. But most men don’t look into the clothes as much as I do. Her make-up is way too heavy and her hair needs to be dyed again if she wants to keep it blonde. Dark roots aren’t ‘in’ anymore. Again, there are only about 2% of straight men who notice those things. Including myself.”
I know that if I let him, he could go on forever. Since I don’t really have anything important to share with him during this lunch, I will just let him continue enjoying my tea and taking it all in.
“I know that you love tea and are not a coffee drinker. You love the Times and hate the Post. You would NEVER dye your hair blonde and wouldn’t dream of ordering a drink that takes 20 minutes to say. And because you’re sitting alone in a pant suit, you scream ‘feminist’.”
I am not a feminist. And if I were, there would be nothing wrong with it except that the average New York male feels threatened by them. And for that, I am come across as unapproachable. Especially when in work clothes. In jeans, a tee shirt, and flip flops, it would be a different story.
“Don’t judge a book by its cover” people will tell you. And I will tell you “Don’t judge a person by their drink of choice, reading material, and hair color.”
“I am drawn to you.” He said. His face was serious. He meant what he said. He kissed me. And it was wonderful.
But I laughed. “Drawn to me?” I thought. The idea of ANYONE being drawn to me was just down-right ridiculous I thought. After I let out a small giggle, he looked at me. “What?” He said while looking into my eyes so deeply, I thought for sure he was looking at a roadmap of my brain and reading my thoughts.
“Nothing.” I whispered while leaning in to steal a kiss. He made that face. The one I love. He has this half-smile smirk thing that I melt just thinking about. It says that he’s thinking something, oh how I wish I knew what that something was. After seeing that face, I had to steal just one more kiss.
We took trains from different directions to meet each other half-way and get some drinks and just enjoy each other’s company for a few hours; Mr. Unrealistic and I. After three bars, a few drinks, and more laughs than I can count, we walked and sat in the park. He put his arm around me and we discussed art, religion, politics, family, and an abundance of funny, childhood stories.
We walked and talked and drank and laughed for over eight hours. And it was time to head home. I let him leave first, because I knew it would be easier walking away after saying goodbye than it would be to leave him behind.
We kissed one last time. “I really had a great time. Please tell me I’ll see you soon?” Our faces were close and we were holding hands at our sides. He rested his forehead against mine.
“Yes” I whispered with closed eyes.
I smiled the whole way home.
I know this. And I’m sorry!
Things have been… Well… Hectic to say the least.
Work is crazy right now. (Which is odd, because this is typically the slow time of year for us.) I got a second job. An overnight job. Restocking a retail store while they’re closed. Sounds lame, right? Well, it kind of is. And the money is shit. But you know what? It’s nice to have something to do in the middle of the night when I would normally being walking, reading, painting, writing, and driving myself mad by overthinking every single thing that happens on a day-to-day basis.
So I work Monday through Friday from 9:00am-5:00pm at my “full-time” job. And then I work 10:00pm-6:00am four nights a week at my “other job”. Interesting huh? And when I’m not working, or not working, I am babysitting my handsome nephew, or shopping with my sister for wedding gowns, brides’ maid dresses, invitations, flowers, favors, place card holders, centerpieces, bands (the musical kind, not the jewelery kind), and everything else you can imagine that a bride would need for her wedding. Which, by the way is New Year’s Eve. THIS New Year’s Eve. Talk about cutting it down to the wire.
Great Guy Friend confessed his love for me this week. Also, MySpace Man calls me almost everyday. Not to mention CC Guy is still waiting for me to “settle down” with him, and him alone.
And here’s where I’m at…
Great Guy Friend and I should just be friends. It’s safe.
MySpace Man is so intriguing and interesting and I want to know everything I can about him.
And the more I think about it, the more I realize that I do have a crush on CC Guy, but we would never work as a couple.
When did things get so complicated?
“You don’t have to be alone. You don’t have to be miserable.”
“But, I’m not miserable.”
“Fine. Well, then you don’t have to be alone.”
He is smart. The kind of smart that makes me feel stupid. The first person to ever make me feel stupid. He can talk about nuclear physics, and debate me on politics, and discuss the importance of 17th century Greek statues. And sometimes I feel like he can read my mind.
He makes me laugh. He can tickle me until I have tears in my eyes, or tell me funny stories about things he did when he visited his Grandfather in Texas. He can tell jokes and improv and put on a show. He can mimic his family members and great comedians and leave me in stitches.
He can listen to me so well that I feel like he feels what I’m saying more than he can actually hear it. When he smiles, I know he means it. When he cries I know it’s because he wishes I didn’t have to. And when he laughs, he laughs with his whole soul. And I laugh with him. I love to laugh with him.
He paints beautiful artwork so effortlessly. He says it’s what he loves, but thinks he’s no good. He can paint a sky so perfect that if it were real, I would jump up into it wishing that I were moving in slow motion. He can paint a field so beautiful, that I can smell the grass and feel the breeze. And sometimes he can paint a woman so sad and so beautifully that I feel like I know her, I know her better than myself. And I know why she’s sad. And it makes me sad too.
That woman he paints is me. And it’s only when you look closely that you can see that I am sad in this painting. Because I am a modern day Mona Lisa for him. She smiles, and no one knows why. Because she’s not fully smiling.
In this painting I am smiling like her. Like Mona Lisa. But when you look into my eyes, you can see pain. And fear. And endless amounts of sadness. And he says this is what he sees whenever he sees me. Even when I am smiling. And even when I’m laughing. And I start to cry.
But these tears are happy ones. Because he understands why I am sad and I don’t have to force myself to say it. He knows that my heart is broken, and he tells me that his heart is broken too. But his is broken because he knows mine is. And he doesn’t know what to do to fix it.
He holds my hand in his, and puts his other hand around the back of my neck. We look each other in the eye, and for the first time in a long time, I knew that he was reading my mind.
“I love you.” He whispers with his forehead now resting on mine. And then he gave me the most passionate, loving, caring, and understanding kiss I have had in my entire life.
But he is not realistic.
-I will play videogames (preferably Racing games, Tiger Woods, and Mercenaries). I will not, however, let you win. And I do expect you to let me win either.
-I will go see horror, action, and thriller movies and promise not to drag you to go see the new Reese Witherspoon Romantic/Comedy. Because I don’t want to see it either.
-I will let you have your guys’ night. As long as you let me have my night out with my friends. All I ask, is that, should something happen on your guys’ night out (you kiss another girl, get into a fight, etc.) that you think I would want to know about, please just tell me. There’s no reason to keep secrets and hide it from me. And I promise to do the same.
-I won’t nag. I promise. I don’t even really know how to.
-I would go fishing, hiking, camping, and mountain biking with you. (If you want me to.) And won’t complain if I get dirty.
-I will let you teach me something. In fact, I would love it if you taught me something.
-I will NEVER tell you that you can’t do something that you want to do. A weekend away with the boys, hanging out with that friend I don’t like (I’ve actually never dated a guy who had a friend I didn’t like, but just in case), spend your hard earned money on something silly, etc.
-I promise not to call/text a thousand times a day. To be honest, I hate when a guy does it just as much as you guys hate when a girl does it.
-I promise that I will always be there for you. I will help you when you need it, give you space when you need it, and try to make you laugh as often as possible.
-I will always be faithful. I give my word.
Earlier today I wrote a post about what it would be like if you (a guy) dated me titled “Guide to Dating a Casual Gal Like Myself”. An anonymous reader replied this back to my message:
“Anon said,
Dating isn’t that hard. I find that people who “date” the most are just in love with dating and aren’t really into finding someone no matter how much they profess their desire to find someone. They are “professional” daters.
I’m curious as to whether you are sexually intimate with any of the guys you date. I find that professional daters are pretty immature when it comes to intimacy and date as means to avoid any meaningful physical, and corresponding emotional, intimacy.”
I started to reply to this message in a comment and realized that I had much more to say on the matter than I originally thought that I did. So here it goes, and I hope to not be misunderstood.
But I have to say that it saddens me that not only did you perceive me to be this way, but that I was not writing clearly enough, or perhaps not sharing all of the right information. Or that I am not writing exactly how I am feeling, or that I am not writing well at all. I’m not sure.
But I hope this helps:
Anon – I have to say that I was slightly offended by your comment. But only slightly. Because I know-I mean, I hope-you did not mean to directly offend me. I do completely understand what you are saying. There are so many people in this world who lead a life just like the one you described. I’m friends with some of those people. But I can assure that you that I am not one of those people.
While dating seems to be fun for the moment, I know that I will NOT turn into one of those serial daters. I have only been single since February, and this is my first time being single since October of 2003. My first date since my split with my ex was not until almost May. I have been on what some may call “many” dates I suppose. But everyone has their own interpretation of what “many” is. While the amount of dates may sound like a lot to some people, there have only been three worth mentioning/dating more than once. There were a couple of those “one-daters” that were not even worth mentioning/dating at all. None of those men were anything serious to me, and not because I subconsciously did not want them to be, but because there was nothing there. No connection. No spark. No attraction. No compatibility. Those things are important.
How am I to find the right one for me if I don’t go out and date people? For all I know Mr. Right could ask me out tomorrow. If I turn him down, taking your advice of trying not to become a serial dater, I could miss out on my true love.
And my sexual experiences are absolutely nobody’s business other than my own. However, I feel that I have nothing to hide. And will share some very personal information with you, with all of you.
I have not been with anyone, sexually, since my boyfriend and I split up. I’ve never been the type to be able to just sleep with someone. I have to have some kind of a connection with them, some kind of a commitment, a relationship of some sort. And it has to be meaningful.
So I hope this helps you better understand where I am coming from. And I hope that I can further explain myself in the way that I had always thought I was.
For starters:
I’m shy. But only towards guys I’m interested in and people I’m meeting for the first time. If I have no interest in dating someone I will warm up really quickly. And then out comes the sarcasm and smart-ass remarks. I can’t help it. It’s just who I am.
I will never make the first move. I will never lean in for the first kiss. I will never ask someone out or ask them for their phone number. I won’t even be the first to approach a guy. It’s not that I think the men should do all of the work (because I don’t) I just can’t actually bring myself to do it. Which brings us back to me being shy.
Sometimes I think that a guy wants to kiss me and won’t because I have not “given the green light”. I’m going to he honest. I don’t know how to do that. I wouldn’t know it if I did it. But I can tell you this, when dating a girl like me, trust me, I will let you know if I DON’T want you to kiss me. If you are unsure, I probably want you to kiss me. I am pretty clear about rejection. There is no second guessing there. As rude as it may be.
I don’t want to go to dinner and a movie. I would much prefer a ball game. Or a bar with some good music and cheap drinks. Or just a walk (and a talk). A museum perhaps. Or even a BBQ. I like ‘em casual. There is so much less pressure to deal with that way. Basically, I would prefer a “date” where I can loosen up, so I can open up, and not feel so under-the-spotlight like I can at a dining table in a restaurant.
I have trust issues. And maybe it’s not right to tell people that on a second or third date, but I think it’s only fair to fore-warn a person of just a problem before one or both parties gets too involved, only to be, possibly let down in the end. It takes me a while to let myself truly be open and trust someone with my thoughts, desires, fears, etc. And when I say a while, I mean a year or more.
As long as I feel comfortable around you, I will feel comfortable around your family. I have nothing to hide and feel that (without sounding absurdly vain) I am a good catch. I am the kind of girl your mom and dad would love. I am smart, and funny, and have just the right amount of girl-next-door-quality to captivate the parents with just enough edginess and confidence to keep my man thinking I’m sexy.
I promise that I will not keep you waiting for more than five minutes when we are going out somewhere. While I am a procrastinator and always wait until the last second (and sometimes a few seconds too late) to start getting ready, it really only takes me fifteen minutes to do so. Just know that I will not be sporting short shorts, any kind of skirt/dress whatsoever, paints that look like they’ve been painted on, etc. But I will be wearing jeans that have just enough room for me to breathe, but still fit good enough for you to see my actual shape. My tee shirt with only show my lower back/stomach when I stretch for a yawn or am sitting down and leaning very far forward. But it won’t matter. You won’t need to see my stomach or back, you can tell just by looking at me that I am in shape, take care of my body, and have a nice, flat tummy. Also: I will probably have either no make-up on, or just mascara (depending on what the day’s events entail) so you can actually see my face and everything in it. The tiny dot of a scar on my right cheek where I was stabbed with a pencil when I was in junior high, the always slightly rosy cheeks, and the fact that from far away it looks like I have freckles on my cheeks and nose, but when you look closely you can see that I have them all over my face, they’re just not as dark as some of the others. And when you just glace at them, my eyes appear to be blue/green but if you taker a deeper look you will see that they are actually bright green and you will wonder to yourself “How did I never notice that before?”
I will not let you pay for everything. Everything in a relationship/dating is 50/50. The amount of interest and effort should be equal. Money should be no different. These aren’t the olden days. Us women work now! We can pay for things for ourselves. Hell, if I was not out at the bar with you getting drinks, I would be somewhere else that requires money that I would have to pay anyway. And it’s only fair.
I will not expect flowers (ever!), diamonds (no thanks), or any candy of any kind (yuck). I will not expect you to remember anniversaries, because while they are important, the time we share with each other is so much more important. You cannot measure happiness, not even in time. All I ask is that you want to go on adventures with me, and maybe come up with some adventure ideas of your own. So much more romantic than flowers.
(*Side Note: I do NOT celebrate Valentine’s Day. It’s a sad excuse for florists, greeting card companies, and Russell Stover to make more money than they already do. The day means nothing to me. It’s just another day in the year.)
There are a few things that I do ask of you. And they’re pretty simple in my book.
1.) Don’t tell me you love me unless you mean it.
2.) Don’t lie, cheat, or steal.
3.) Do not expect me to change or try to change me.
4.) Be patient and understanding. I know I can be a handful at times and thick-headed enough to drive a man-and sometimes myself-crazy. And while it may not seem like it, I’m trying. So just bear with me.
5.) Hold me until I fall asleep.
6.) Appreciate the little things in life with me.
7.) Never settle for less than you’re worth.
8.) Always want to try new things, meet new people, and visit new places.
9.) Never give up on me. Never give up on yourself.
10.) Smile with me. At least once a day.
This weekend could have gone better. Though, it could have gone worse.
Bad Things/Events/Happenings/Luck (In Chronological Order):
I overslept Saturday morning.
Causing me to miss my originally planned train.
Which caused me to have to cut lunch short with CC Guy.
Creepy guy tried to get my phone number standing outside of Penn Station while smoking a cigarette. (He didn’t know that “No” really meant NO!)
Missed train by 2 and half minutes because of Creey guy.
Had to pay an additional $40 on tickets to get them swapped to a different time.
Purchased Coach tickets first time around, but had to forfeit them when I swapped times and got stuck with a seat in the “quiet car”. That means cell phone off, no headphones, no talking. Thankfully I brought three books. (I always underpack on clothes and other necessitites, but always overpack on books. Just goes to show what’s more important to me.)
Arrived late due to TWO missed trains and had to push back ALL of my meetings.
First meeting-Potential Art Client-I turned down.
Second meeting-Job Interview-Offered me really bad pay.
I got sick in the bathroom of a steakhouse. Twice.
The hotel double booked my room.
Had some drunken guy on the sidewalk follow me for three blocks and ask me the same questions over and over.
I had my wallet stolen right out of my bag. (All of my money, three debit cards-yes, I belong to three banks, don’t ask-four credit cards, hotel room keys, and license.)
Got lost.
Bars closed at 2am.
Was locked out of my hotel room when I returned from the bar.
The hotel was a D-U-M-P! (And expensive.)
Spent the morning at the police station filing a report for the stolen wallet causing me to miss my free breakfast at the hotel.
Third meeting-Publisher-Made no sense to me. Everything went right over my head. Too bad I’m not a lawyer (or a mathmetician), I may have understood what she was talking about better.
Missed my train.
Had to pay ANOTHER $40 to swap times again. (Or wait at the train station for almost six hours. Alone. With no money.)
Stuck in quiet car again.
Second train got delayed “due to police activity” for over an hour.
Good Things/Events/Happenings/Luck (In Chronological Order):
Train was fairly empty. Thankfully.
Arrived earlier than expected. (Even though I missed my first train.)
First Meeting-Potential Art Client-While I turned down the opportunity to paint a mural on a wall in his house, I did agree to paint five paintings (for a great price) for him to hang at his house.
Second Meeting-Job Interview-While they offered me terrible pay, I did explain to them that I was not looking for a job. They found me and contacted me. They wanted me to leave my job and move there to work for them. While, career wise, that would be a great opportunity, they had to at least match my pay for me to pick up and leave. They said they would contact me during the week.
Met up with MySpace man. (Who is MUCH better looking in person than he is on the computer. And sweet and smart, incredibly insightful and philosophical. We got along really well and had a good time, despite the fact that I was feeling horrible for the first two hours we were hanging out. What was supposed to be “meeting up for drinks” turned into drinks, walking, sitting by the water, and talking for almost eight hours. Intense!)
So that pretty much sums up my weekend.
P.S. Did I mention that MySpace guy was really cute? And funny? And sweet, smart, and everything else that I find wonderful in a man?
I am nervous to meet this potential client.
I am nervous to meet the publisher.
I am nervous to go on this interview.
And I am nervous to meet my fellow painter friend.
It’s getting down to the wire and I am both excited and scared to go. I am excited and scared to travel alone. I am excited and scared to make a drastic change in my life.
My sister is getting married this New Year’s Eve. My nephew is just starting to stand on his own. So his first steps are just around the corner. My brother and sister-in-law are house hunting. I want to be here with everyone. But I want to be out on my own… alone.
I am caught at a giant in-between. I feel like I don’t know what it is that I want out of life anymore. I know the goals that I want to achieve, I have wanted the same ones since as long as I can remember. But there are so many new ones I want in life as well. And I’m having a hard time deciding which ones are most important to me at this moment in my life.
I suppose the most ambitious move I could make is to attempt to achieve all of them and just be happy with the ones I succeed at. But will the order in which I strive to reach them effect the ability to achieve others? And if that’s the case, which ones do I go for first? And which ones last?
I know. I’m not making sense. And for that, I apologize. I just have a lot on my mind (and on my plate).
Please forgive me. And please wish me luck.
