I'm finally back to blogging (well, at least one, for now), after a long absence. Originally, I began this blog using names that were changed, posting whatever I pleased about whomever I wanted. Those days are over. I have no desire to hide anything, and I'm completely happy with the way things are going. Why wouldn't I want to share that? Enough said.

Twitterpated!

Going for it

Will karma come back to bite me on this one? I just don't know. With my luck (paired with my ever-so-optimistic outlook), I'd venture to guess that yes, I will pay for this in my future. But it's happened to me so many times, the other way around...am I just being too sensitive, when I ought to just truck on and not look back? The people in the rear-view being, of course, Joe and Graham. I suppose that's why they say it's smart to date one person at a time. But why close out the options? Had I closed out my options, I wouldn't have left myself open to the opportunity sitting right out in front of me. That opportunity, being, of course, Patrick.

Patrick is someone whose scent has been locked in my bloodhound memory since the day I first laid eyes on him. He's been off-limits that entire time. Aside from the fact that Jason, my first "real" and still very good friend from UPS, is very close friends with Patrick, there was a girlfriend of many years in the picture, which placed him so far out of reach that I was forced to bury my attraction to him deep down. This was not easy, but I got used to it. After all, I knew Jason used to have a real crush on me, and I felt weird about showing interest in one of his friends, out of some twisted up form of respect, regardless of Patrick's relationship status.

Jason and I have often double-dated with Patrick, since we all get along well and have a good time. Every time, it's been more routine for me to ignore my attraction, since Patrick sure seemed as if he preferred the company of more mature women (I'd say "older," but I'm doing my best to be polite...for the record, age really didn't seem to mature them anything but outwardly)...not to mention Jason's constant presence during any interaction that might have occurred between Patrick and I. This weekend, however, was different entirely.

I was invited to join up with Patrick, Jason, and friends on Patrick's boat this Saturday, which included no potential love interests of Patrick (I scouted this out, first thing). I wasn't even sure I'd get a chance to drop a single hint, and I've obviously got other variables in the background (Joe and Graham), but I left the option wide open, and...well...what can I say, but "Bingo." I couldn't believe it--not only did he reciprocate total interest, but he cleared everything right up. It's been so difficult for me to see through the haze of this dating ritual I've been taking part in, and how was I to know that it's actually possible to be attracted to someone without being scared of getting my feet too wet to get out of the water if need be. I didn't need to test the waters, I jumped right in--never underestimate the power of the cannonball. As odd as it still sounds to say this, I'm his girlfriend now, and sometimes it really is just that simple.

Miles Away from Logic

Thank goodness for the ever-existent therapeutic effect of a good run. After finally getting out the door at eleven this morning, it was apparent that I definitely need to hoof it in the morning to a greater extent if I'm going to have a sliver of a chance at beating the heat of the summer (this week's been especially scorching), but it was still worth the sweat and sandpapery sensation I was awarded at the end of my route...nothing beats that feeling of accomplishment after honestly exerting oneself.

The need for that aforementioned therapeutic effect came later in the day, of course...as it usually does. Come to think of it, maybe I didn't use the therapy of my run as anger management on purpose, but its mood-lifting quality is what I place part of the blame upon. Blame for the really good conversation I had with Dirk today. Normally 2 or 3 quite condescending or otherwise neener-neener-neener type remarks present themselves mysteriously within our chatter, and the next exchange we have, be it per email, telephone, or in person, takes about 2 or 3 more months to actually take place--that gives each of us time to forget why we're pouting.

We spoke about his roommate, the roommate's girlfriend, shady ebay and craigslist dealings, the crazy merry-go-round of divorces and marriages which neither of us desires to experience, and life, in general, that only we can understand eachother about, for reasons beyond even my deep "Dr. Phil" side. I mentioned that I had seen an old ("old" in many respects) bartender friend of mine that day who offered me to come visit his new gig: at Yosemite Lanes. A potential job offer was even warmly extended my direction, which, to be quite honest, really does intrigue me. What could possibly pepper up my strange list of work experience more than bartending at a bowling alley, especially, to quote my old friend,"on the cheatin' side of town?"

Dirk mentioned we ought to go get a drink and visit at Yosemite Lanes sometime soon, and also made reference to the likely possibility of his getting rid of his roommate Jared, once his fire academy concludes...and that I ought to room there, once that happens. He said it just like one would say, "Yes, of course, I'll meet you at six!" like it's the routine, the plan. Right-o. I can't really fault him for acting so casual about it...I said "Yeah, seriously" in exactly the same way. He couldn't be serious (?)...

It spells disaster...but how far did spelling ever really get me, anyway?

Competition

Shocked isn't the right word at all, because I was expecting it to happen anyway, but Joe didn't call yesterday. No text, no phone call, nothing. Not like I was waiting for it, but I did sort of expect him to get a clue?? Does it take awhile to sink in, or is he trying to give me a clue of my own? I didn't let it take up too much space in my brain, since I've already been letting the idea of being with Joe slip farther away from my grasp. If I've learned anything in my marathon of dating go-rounds, it's that holding on too tightly just isn't what it's cracked up to be. Especially when I'm the only one playing tug of war. What's the point of winning?

Graham called last night (!), and we talked for a bit. There's still a bit of the nervousness present in me when I talk to him, and I'm curious if he feels the same. I'm trying really hard to remember how it's been at the beginning with the last couple of people I've dated, but it's hard to go back to the start in my mind and know if my feelings and jitters are progressing at the normal rate. I guess it would be easier to remember beginnings of relationships if I didn't end them and start them over with the same person like pressing the return key on a typewriter.

We made a dinner date for Friday night, and that gives me almost three full days to obsess over what to wear and how to not look hookerish or matronly while still looking like someone this Graham guy would want to be seen in public with. Three days is worse than having an hour, since I'll have too much time to overanalyze the importance of every little detail of my appearance. An hour forces an urgent (and usually sensible) decision. And here I go, making it a negative thing that I actually have a dinner date on a Friday night with a good-looking incredible guy....??!!!

So everything's easy to see, right? Joe proved that he didn't listen to what I outlined as being of the utmost importance to me (daily communication), and Graham pulled through by actually calling before the famous "three-day rule" was in effect (our lunch was Sunday, he called Tuesday night), more points to pile on top of his staggeringly high score. Well, it couldn't really be so cut and dry. I guess it could, but this is me we're talking about, so naturally there are details to add that make this more complex.

Joe called this morning. Yes, in the morning. Just to call, for no reason other than a "hi/hello/how was your day," which is has been what I've wanted from him all along. I guess I'll ride this out, definitely for awhile. I do care, and maybe he just needs a few swifts kicks in the behind to get some momentum. I'm going to dinner on Friday, though, regardless. This is bound to get interesting.

Ex-boyfriend Deja Vu, and enter Bachelor Number Two

The day was last Wednesday, and Joe (who I referred to as the "current beau" in a previous post) called, which I was expecting. I only use the term "expecting" because of the fact I didn't hear from him on Tuesday, and I desperately didn't want to begin the process of writing him off. Granted, I'm a pessimist, and thus always standing at the door ready to unchain the lock and bolt, never to be seen again in the relationship (as my track record of late wouldn't really prove...since I've been partial to prodigal boyfriends lately), but I really did want this to work. I do, still...don't I? I do. But seriously, harvest-season or not, time is there when you make it, specifically when you care about someone.

The point of even mentioning this conversation that was had on Wednesday is to mark a date in time that I specifically outlined to Joe just how much it meant to me to receive a call, or in a pinch, at the very very least, a text, as some form of communication on a daily basis. It wasn't a direct order, and it wasn't said in a nagging or irritating tone. It was presented in an assertive as well as flattering way, I'm proud to say. And it was discussed pleasantly for awhile, surprisingly enough. I thought it was pretty clear? Well, the clarity of it hit a foggy spell on the way to Escalon (home of Joe) apparently, because I didn't hear from him again in any way, shape, or form until Saturday night, after I was sleeping. Technically I was awake, but I decided I was officially "sleeping," since I really didn't have the patience to not fly off the handle...and this girl has no desire to tarnish her reputation for having quality, easy-to-read communication skills. Sunday he called (once again, in the evening...), then Monday afternoon, and I finally spoke with him.

He knew I was grumpy (I'm not good at hiding it), I told him why, he apologized, and he delivered a speech almost identical to that of my ex in Stockton. I replied quickly with a very clear response that basically said, "There's time for whatever you make time for." Done. Of course, it went on longer than that, but that was the main message. I really want him to prove me wrong, because I know he genuinely cares, but it's been demonstrated to me time and time again in the past that my knowledge of someone's feelings for me, regardless of how true and real they are, doesn't make it less important for them to show me some consideration regularly.

As if there weren't enough to occupy my thoughts, I introduced another variable. Throughout my dealings with Joe, I have not deactivated my profile on match. Sure, it might be "cheating," it might not. I've decided it's not, since there has been no official conversation concerning a title with me in it. I've been especially at peace with my profile's presence on the site as of late, due to the lack of even a kind thought thrown my direction from Joe's scatterbrain.

Subscribing, on the other hand, might get me into trouble, though. I ended up giving in after I was emailed by a striking gentleman whose story I just had to check out. As it turns out, he's not only tall, dark, and handsome, but very smart and quite a guy. I know all of this firsthand...since we had a great lunch date on Sunday. Yep, now Joe has some competition. Not to his knowledge. But isn't it healthy not to throw all of your eggs in one basket right away? Especially when Graham is just sooo sweet.

Mr. match.com and I are supposed to get together later in the week, and I'm also hoping that Joe cleans up his act. I do care about him, but I already sense myself creating some distance. I don't want to get hurt. I just want someone to seem like the right fit, a fit that I don't have to squeeze into or bend over backwards. Dating shouldn't be as hard as shopping for blue jeans.

Better left Alone

Thank goodness I had some sort of an agenda yesterday--the end of the summer is just crawling by. Part of me wants it to wrap up and finish already, so I can get on with starting school, and part of me would like to savor my last free moments before I'm locked down to being a member of the student body at Stan State once again. Keeping busy has been a task, some days, that's for sure. Reading a bunch, running errands (but not too many errands, that gas money doesn't just fall out of the sky), among other random things, causes the time to tick on by day after day. After stopping by Janet's yesterday afternoon, it's obvious she definitely knows how I feel. It seems she's on the same game plan (just waiting), except she's waiting to have her baby in a couple of weeks.

After returning home from Janet's, I heated up some leftovers and watched some mindless television, chatted with Michelle on the phone, like I usually do in the evening. I was expecting to meet my brother for a bit at Chili's, before he headed off to his night class, but he's been swamped at work and texted me as much late that afternoon, unfortunately. Chit chatting with Michelle is always a somewhat cheerful thing, because I can make her laugh pretty easily, and that gives me a good feeling. I try not to think too much about our friendship...I care about her so much, and aside from all of the random this-and-that type of events that have occurred since we've been friends, I find it hard to swallow that she's seriously dating this certain someone who is in her life. I've had to step back a bit in the last year or so, mainly because of her divorce and things of that nature, but also because of a few things that have turned out a little fishy, or to put it plainly, I've turned over a few rocks that revealed a lack of truth in certain instances. The person she's dating is someone who tried to pursue me for a short time, the catch is that he was married at that point (and I should mention he elected to keep that information to himself). No longer married, who does he pursue but Michelle, and they've been together for quite awhile now. I'm ecstatic that she is so happy, but I can't help but feel odd about her not questioning his honesty regarding his actions toward me. Actions that I recounted to her, in detail, while she was still married, since we were friends (perhaps better friends, back then, but maybe not?). Does she shut out the fact that he behaved that way, did he make an excuse for it, which she ate up like pudding, or does she not even think that way, just basking in the glory of having a boyfriend, especially a boyfriend at work? It's just another item on a list of things that are unclear to me between us, and I'm not going to open that can of worms. Obviously she's happy, and I shouldn't intrude on that, so I leave the elephant in the room, and watch it fatten up like a Christmas goose with every conversation.

Good things Come to Those who Wait

Patience. I need some. Everything's always hurried...not the obvious things that are part of daily life, that someone else's naked eyes could see, but inner workings of my expectations and wants. Just like Alabama sings, "...in a hurry to get things done; rushin' rushin till life's no fun...in a hurry and don't know why." I ought to just slow down and get used to the idea that everything worthwhile does, in fact, take time and effort, just like all of the old adages so aptly state.

For example, the subject of my education is rushed, in my mind. I feel as if everyone my age has already proceeded down the road that leads to the "real world," a road which begins with that initial walk across the stage of a university in a cap and gown. I know this assumption isn't quite true, because facts are facts, and plenty of folks my age and older aren't even close to a 4-year degree. Nevertheless, my heart sinks just knowing how far behind in the queue of career-dom I am, in comparison to where I could be, had I not done a first class job at slacking off in college my first go-round.

Beyond college, there is an issue which, of course, weighs even heavier on my mind, whether I admit it or not, it is present. I can blame it on being female, or I can blame it on the abundance of idiots I seem to have dug up in the last few years, I can blame it on plenty of factors, since I'm quite skilled at putting others at fault for nearly everything. Here again, once the layers of the onion are peeled away, I'm left feeling a bit lonely because of the fact I haven't hit the jackpot in the grand game of relationship roulette. I say that now strictly on the belief that I don't want to jinx myself (which I am about to do), since I have, in fact, met someone quite special who I am dating exclusively. Trouble is, when I do realize I've met someone special, I always burn with the desire for things to speed up, and then when I actually achieve the speed I wished for, my eyes turn out to be bigger than my stomach, and I bolt faster than you can say "It's not you, it's me." Or, worse (well, sort of), I settle for a steady cruise, and then find myself left in the dust for no particular reason at all (Thanks, to my ex, for that new and different fear that was created).

With my current beau, I'd like to think the cruise control is working like a charm. It's so difficult to judge a relationship objectively, especially when I'm plagued with this get-it-in-high-gear attitude that's apparently pretty ingrained in my mind. It is harvest, that's his territory (occupation), and he did warn me about his M.I.A. status during this season. I told him I'd pull through, and I would prove to him I could handle it, regardless of our connection only having just recently hit the beginning stages. If I can't handle his being swamped with work this time of year, what would be the point of my sticking around, anyway, for the long run? It's tough, though, that's for sure. I can't complain much, he is such a sweetheart, and I will take the risk of getting my heart handed back to me, it's what I signed up for.

Maybe it's just the lesson in patience I need. I suppose I'll just have to wait and see.

Personal Space, not Myspace

"Why did you delete Myspace?"

This was the first text of the morning that I received, from Sarah of all people. Of everyone on my "Friends" list, I give her kudos for being so observant. I was still surprised that she'd be the one to show genuine surprise and concern, however, considering we have exchanged handwritten letters as well as phone calls for far longer than either of us has belonged to the Myspace community. I replied right away, letting her know that I had simply tired of Myspace, and reacted by bidding the guilty addiction "Farewell." Her fear of losing my Myspace friendship could have a lot to do with her recent marriage and change of scenery by one time zone's difference, but I'm on a mission to prove wrong the fear that she has of losing touch without cutesy photo comments and bulletin posts.

I had to delete the Myspace. Slave to its constant revision, the right mixture of snazzy layouts and accurate descriptions of the many facets of my personality never presented itself. Musical taste was yet another battle -- deciding on a single song as a soundtrack to the image I desired people to walk away with became either too much work, or too easy, depending on the sarcasm or depth accompanying my mood on any given day. If none of those reasons seem like reason enough, the fact that I'm even writing about it makes me cringe a bit.

Beyond the somewhat superficial reasons listed above, there are yet other reasons, which can all be boiled down to the "Sense of Being Stared At," since that's a most fitting phrase (and, coincidentally, the title of a book which is required reading for me in about 2 weeks). The last relationship I found myself in (for the third time around, but I'm trying to avoid tangents here) was completely ended on the basis of Myspace status, due to a young man's lack of skill in the communication department, among other things. During this 4-day stint of single/in-a-relationship/single run-arounds, I noticed just how often people do, in fact, peek around at these details, and pry open the door to more information. Although we are all a little vain, and therefore find it somewhat flattering that these easy-to-read windows into our lives paint us as hot commodities at times, the glitz of being watched fades away quickly. As I began to date someone new, I began to wonder just what our particular "status" was, and I wondered even more whether I'd be so eager to know this without Myspace on the brain.

More than being watched, Myspace gives me such a feeling of accessibility. Some are keen on this, and I understand the excitement of someone's requesting you to be his/her "friend." I'm not alone when I say that it's flattering to know that someone searched around or stumbled upon your profile and wanted to befriend you, the idea goes back to the very beginnings of our social interactions as children, "Will you be my friend?" The fact that someone can sit around for days, weeks, months, even years, and just know you're out there to contact, easily, if he/she ever decides to do so: Not so flattering, not at all.

If someone really needs to get in touch with me, that person will find a way. It's not a fairy tale world I live in, I do believe that people can seek out one another without the aid of social networking tools such as Myspace. If it works for others, they ought to keep on with it. I will prove that I won't just disappear.