Miss Alternate Universe Pageant

My flatmate and I seem to have accidentally, through no intention of ours, stepped through a cosmic wormhole, slid faster than a 10 year old on a Slip n' Slide, landing on terra not so firma, in a cold and dismal, endlessly frustrating universe. If we were to produce a television show to compete with the likes of Lost, echoing the themes of persons stranded and faced with limited resources, we want the show to be titled Mislaid.

In this universe, if and when we are attracted to, and want to get to further know a guy, then the universal laws arrange for us to never hear from him again. And, the yin to that yang is that if we are not attracted to someone, and we not only do not appreciate their personality, which is far different than ours, but know that we are not appreciated as well, then our phone and email will be inundated with messages focused on connection. Also known as, not interested, they call; interested…yes, that’s right, that is silence.

There are few things more annoying than a guy peppering you with calls and texts and emails. I would say especially if you are not attracted to him. But especially assumes that there is an option, but it is a universal law that only guys that you do not like do that. We have theorised that they do this for several reasons, all of which grate us.

Primarily, they need to be liked by someone, so they are pursuing your affection aggressively without listening to you or asking you directly how you feel about them. That statement has two main components that are worrisome, firstly Need. Need is a turn off, its instinctive. This suggests weakness and lack of personality. The second is Someone; these actions leave a woman with a residue of distaste because we feel fungible and generic. This guy doesn't like you, he just wants to be liked by anyone. You are just generic walking vagina. So, it really is about him and not about you. I call this Stripping my Personal Integrity. Not to be confused with what I call Stripping: Lets Get Personal (which only involves a guy you are attracted to).

Some other surmised reasons (and by surmised I mean we can't prove but we know it) are that because you tick all the boxes on the girlfriend agenda given to them by their mother and actually it is about winning family approval and not about liking you as a complex person that doesn't end at first impressions; they want to sign you up to their package before you get a chance to know them because in the past once someone has, they don't want to stay around. I realise my because statements are massive logical fallacies, but so be it.

Why there doesn't seem to be a middle ground, in otherwords not a guy that never calls or emails except when he is drunk, and not a guy that inundates you with connect with me messages, is a mysterious to me as dark matter. Actually, I understand dark matter as the invisible glue of the universe, whichever one I am in, better than this Seventh Wonder of the World.

In the theme of wonders of the world, what is your favourite thing to see as you wake up in the morning, stumble out of bed, eyes not only blurry from lack of contacts but champers the night before, your body simultaneously is crying out for loo and large gulp of water, so you bypass loo because minger from the night before might be in there as door looks shuttish thus you continue to stumble to kitchen for glass o aqua, open the kitchen door to and observe, as if through mosquito netting, the morning callisthenics of said minger, and I don't mean jumpin jacks. That's right, close hand around member, etcetera, etcetera. ..My flatmate told me about this Sunday Morning Wakeup Call last night and we could not stop laughing. At least our sense of humour came with us in the cosmic leap between universi. We now have a sign in our Kitchen, on the inside of the door, that says No Wankers Allowed.

Top Tens

You know you need to go on hols when:

10. you wake up in the morning and start crying
9. you don't know when is the next holiday on which you are going
8. your massage therapist, with a look of amazed despair, says to you "your shoulders, they need so much work, you need to stretch" despite the fact that you do stretch. every day.
7. since your last holiday, your boss has gone on three
6. you dot Elliot Smith all over your MP3 player.
5. the notion of commuting on the tube makes you cringe. exceedingly beyond the normal cringe.
4. you take mini germacide aeresol cans with you on the tube
3. you actually contemplate getting up an hour earlier to take the bus
2. there is nothing to do on the weekends because everyone else is out of the country
1. packing sounds like fun (even if you do it without a bottle of wine)

a wild card day for february

Well, it had to happen eventually. The ovation of the Wild Card Day. One of those days when you have to stop yourself from dripping tears over your fellow commuters. The kind of day when you feel raw but you are unsures as to the exact machinations of your scrapes. Or perhaps you do know but you don't want to give power over them by inserting them on the syllabus of Over Analysis 101.

Things like the guy i met on saturday and asked me out for wednesday, took my number then never followed up; attempting to resolve a situation at work to ensure that blame isn't placed on me although i can't get the parties to sit down; mediating on a pro bono basis a hr issue on my charity full of aggresively negative emotions; being able to name one of the emotions that i am feeling as loneliness; the bittersweet irony film caused by having a catch up chat over a glass of wine at my local with G, Boy From Work; not hearing from my best freind for ages and not knowing why; and the fight with the emotion of Wanting, like a constant battle with fear. I want to go eat pizza and chocolate fudge cake, but my Food Nazi diet self won't even let me. and will talk myself into feeling worse if i give in, while the another voice in my head says why the heck are you even caring about body fat, muscle tone, shape and aerobic fitness when experience has shown it doesn't make any difference in the ability to attract and maintain quality guys, ie am i doing something for me, or part for me and part for a reason that doesn't exist! Looking fit doesn't mean they call you.

And yes, i am having to live the new paradigm, and say, its too bad that Cool Guy didn't call after words otherwise, but so be it and the reasons have nothing to do with me but all him; i wouldn't call my feelings rejection, but disappointment and acute frustration. All of which i am praying to go away because they are a waste of my time; i can liberate myself for a moment, but then it comes back. Oh Well Period. not, oh well, but i am still frustrated. But it is and i want the last part to go away. It should not be there; i usually am not, but maybe you have to revisit here and there, but those moments become less frequent.

In my conversation with G (work guy), which i entered to test myself (can you be his friend without tension) and frankly give myself good marks, we spoke of career paths and decisions to be made and talked about opportunities and interests, which provoked a sense of frustration again, at what i have the potential to do and what i am doing right now. However, with work it is my fault: i choose to be where i am, hold off on looking, research into x or z rather than do x or z. Yet with dating, it is out of my control. The sea i have to work with, i don't create. i can't force someone to call me or get to know me. And i do break down at times and get upset for my friends and myself knowing that there are loads of singles out there, but we are not getting together, and i can't do anything about it. Of all my friends here in the UK, i am the one that throws myself out there the most. And have stories full of inadequacies on display - i should start a magazine of them. Perhaps a crappy guy fanzine.

So, perhaps i feel bombarded with frustration from several angles, and i am shamelessly throwing myself in the Self Pity Pit.
I think i will allow myself a large bar of dark chocolate to survive the pit. after the treadmill.

Leg Warmers

With jaw dropped horror i read online that two new musicals are about to debut at the West End.

Footloose.
and Movin Out (music by B Joel)

I rarely lapse into americanisms. but Oh, My, Gawhd.

And i thought Brooke and the Hoffmeister being in Chicago was cringeworthy.

However, if i were to produce Footloose, I would revamp it to correspond to modern- read not 1980s- times. Such as make the town an obvious parody of the NeoCons. Rewrite the pastor -father as a Republican state senator. Ask Kevin Bacon to have a cameo. And make sure all significant cast members are within 6 degrees of him.

Red

One year when I was in uni, on this saint valentines day holiday thing, i received a dozen red roses. The card said I am sorry, please forgive me, and i hope to talk to you soon. with out a name attached.

I had woken up that day, lonely, insecure and depressed. As usual. And as usual having my morning coffee and cigarette out the balcony, looking at the other balconies around me, a balmy, moist typical hazy morning in dallas. The cars and traffic were honking and roaring down the road. Inexorably my thoughts dashed into the room with the plaque Recent Ex Boyfriend on it. It was wear i liked to spend most of my time those days. My friends tried to get me to get out, but my misery was a drug. I had wondered who he was sending flowers to, calling, thinking about, taking out to dinner; wondering if his thoughts even dwelled on my at all, his valentines the year before.

Trying to do some homework around the flat, i continued to subsist on coffee and cigarettes, answering some questions here, reading some chapters in textbooks there. And then the doorbell rings. And i answer the door feel shock when i take the delivery of 12 beautiful deep red roses; at the time sweet although now i would have called the choice of generic red, tacky and without style. But then it was a salve to my insecurity wounds, hopelessly open for all to see.

I read the card with more shock. He didn't sign his name, but who else could it be? Euphoria, confusion, hope and negativity borne of confidenceless coursed through my system. A new drug, one of hopefully confusion. I thought and I thought sitting there on the couch in pajamas that i had been wearing for days. Why, who, does this mean he is not seeing anyone? He and I had been in odd contact here and there;mostly late night calls from him, talking, wanting to come over, and me mostly saying yes. Of course I was crying off and on. He meant everything to me then, even having caused so much pain by saying he didn't like me enough to want to be my boyfriend. And then the see saw. well maybe. well maybe not.

Time stopped flowing whilst i thought of these things while my emotions formed a typhoon around me.

And then I decided to call a person that I wanted to share my confusion, hurt and hope with. Someone whose opinion i respected. Someone who would look out for me no matter what happened. When i examine that moment, that precise space when the thought to do this came into my head, it is empty. I do not understand why i dialed the number; the person i was then is so very different to now that i cannot empathise with the choice. its fundamentals escape me, much like i am constantly escaping the girl that i was then. a guess would be that i was subconsciously calling on protection from the emotional elements.

My father picked up the phone. I told him what had happened. I voiced my confusion. I asked him how to proceed. He knew this guy had broke things off with me, I was horribly depressed afterwards, and that i still had feelings. I do not remember what my dad said to me. I just remember that i called him; and cried. and expressed my feelings.

On whose advice, my own or my fathers, i do not know why i chose to hold off contacting him. And actually, i had to see him at a class early that evening.

Later that day, i got a call. it was from Pete, who I had been on a date with a month back. He sponsored an entry in the book of worst dates. Pete and i went for dinner and drinks with his friends; he left to go to the loo with one of the females and did not come back for 45 minutes. When they returned it was clear that they had been together (because from the tension at the table during that time, i might not have figured it out). Pete then became so inebriated that i had to have him pull over the car on the drive home, drive myself home, and have him sleep on my couch. Pete called me to ask if the flowers helped in respect of forgiving him. And could he see me again. The typhoon that earlier embroiled me once again took hold; but this time in a counter direction.

In the evening i went to class, as usual putting on my armor so that no one would notice how deep my wounds were. i was ashamed, not only for my usual level of hurt but that i had jumped and wanted to desperately, to the conclusion that recent ex was contacting me and still had feelings for me. At class, as always, the ex and i sat with one friend in between us, and the other surrounding us; ignoring each other but for polite nods at the beginning. Bitter and bizarrely, he and I were wearing the exact same thing; red shirt, brown leather belt with jeans, and cole haan loafers. Both our eyes widened with embarrassed horror (although i retrospect the outfit choice causes horror, but, you know, early 90s). Part of your brain searched for a meaning in this synchronicity, like a crutch. Worn down and raw, i attempted to be silly about the situation, and said something in a faux cheery voice, like, Stephen, you look so great, so valentiney.. oh wait so do i! good thing red both suits us. I hope that at some point during class my face ceased to match the shirt.

One for the ladies

I have been requested to say a few words about the parting conversation that i had with speed on saturday.

He had been sending me texts each day, most of which said call me, you home yet, guess i am not going to talk to you today...number of missed calls from him: zero. To review, the game over moment was when after asking him three days in a row what his decision was on the hotel weekend that he had asked me to set up, he texts me that we need to talk about it, and to call him.

I have been tought many things over the past few years about how to stick up for myself and commicate that i expect to get respect. but that doesn't mean enganging in it feels comfortable, is fun, or without anxiety. i asked my flatmate to sit by me on our minicouch. for 25 minutes, she was my blankey.

I called him and the first thing he says "well it seems that you have been busy this week, too busy to call". I could spend the next 30 minutes court reporting the conversation but i won't; i will try to recall the ebbs and flows with a few key phrases.

So it started off with him obviously in a snarky mindset. it occured to me that i felt the stereotypical guy and he the naggy girl. i moderated my voice explained yes i had been, and i was tired, just got back from flat hunting, how was he....inane chit chat with carefully moderated tone. i then said (and i had practiced and wrote down this) so you texted me on tuesday that you wanted to talk about next weekend? to which he responded, full of tone, well i guess its too late now isn't it, i said well when you didn't tell me which hotel but wanted to talk, yes i did cancel the hotels but what did you want to talk about, and he said well i was going to talk about a compromise.

a compromise. in my opinion, when you tell a girl to set up a weekend away, find out you have double booked yourself with mates, the answer is hotel a or b, not a compromise, ie i will go away with mates and you and i can go another weekend.

this whole time he is sounding very mad and angry and kept saying but i texted you, i texted you all week. i knew he was texting me as a way to form a defense against anything that i would say he did wrong.

which is why my tactic wasn' t to say he did anything wrong. because he didn't he just treats people in ways that i don't want to be treated, and his definition of dating doesn't accord with mine, and i wasn't falling for him to the extent that i wanted to stay in the game and educate him.

i said it appeared to me that although i had a great time with him, and thought very highly of him, we didn't really seem to be clicking on the in between stuff; that it seemed to me that what he needs and what i need are different and we should downgrade to friendship.

at which he got mad and angry, said words like, everything is just black and white with you, never argue with a lawyer who has already judged her case, well done counseler, to which i said i dont' really need that sarcasm, and i think you are being facetious when you say well done, to which he said no i am not.
he then tried to say why, why i texted you every day, you couldn't call me back, i said i didn't hear my phone ringing and he said oh is it about control with you and i said no, is it with you? he then accused me of doing no work in the relationship, that it was always him taking me out, him paying for dates.

uh, uhm. 7 dates. 4 dinners. 50% of those nice. and he brought up paying? and he accused me of no work? the fact that he does so little and thinks it is all of it confirmed that i was doing the beyond right thing and i was really glad of it. previously i was nervous in the conversation. with that comment, i found my peace and sense of self. Which i then powerfully engaged in the conversation. i said work? i brought up to you in person sunday, i emailed you monday and i texted you tuesday . 3 times. not once could you answer. you then say we need to talk and to call you...look up rude in the dictionary and you will find that little manouevre in there. yes, i truly said that. i then said, you think that you do all the work? i feel like i entered stage left, am up on stage singing and dancing and you are out there in the audience refusing to participate. i really said that too. i was hoping to use "you want a relationship maid" but i didn't.

i then tried to get off the phone because i said the conversation was turning needlessly nasty, especially when the sarcasm born of his ego wounds was palpable, and i reiterated that i am not throwing blame i am going with my instinct that although on paper we look good, there have been interrelating problems from the start and he is a great guy but we should call it quits; and he apologised and said i was right he was sorry for being nasty and what i just said was very nice and i didn't have to do that and i said, well i wasnt' being nice i was being honest, and i accept your apology.

i said lets go for a glass of wine soon to catch up in person, and he said he would like that. i really want my cds back. if it was one, i call it a casualty, but four? they are homesick and i am bringing them back.

Zen and the Art of Pulling

There are moments of time when you realise that you have veered off a previous route and have lept onto another path, perhaps even a metaphysical escalator. It feels as if you have been in a storm and before you realised that it was hailing, it is over and the ozone rich air is left surrounding you with its pristine humidity.

When I broke things of with Speed last weekend, a moment of doubt did not show itself. Yet I still began crying for a bit at one point. The frustration of being out in the front, trying to find some guy that is available, attractive, and quality, overwhelmed me. And then i felt the clouds parting and saw another vista. I realised that my personal dynamic had changed. I no longer have an agenda to evaluate dates on potential for relationship. Because I think, hopefully without being cynical or judgemental, that there is such a slim chance of it happening. I don't mean I hate men or want to go on a revenge cycle. Absolutely not: I love men and find them alluring and funny and attractive at times and do not give up hope that i might find one to share my life with.

It is that I have folded up my book of agendas, and put it in a box. This book of agendas is not to be confused with the tick box survey that I used to have in my early 20s. I threw that out before I left for here, when I realised that the items on the list were outdated and that I couldn't replace them with poignant alteratives.

It is because I now confront life with this new but exciting paradigm that I rock into work having gotten together with the one bloke that will be in our chalet in France in 2 weeks when I go skiing. I suppose it could be an "oops" moment, but my new liberating paradigm says, "amusing". He mentioned going out, but I have no expectations. I also don't care if he doesn't call and then next time I see him he is in Mirabel pulling girls right and left. I think he is cute, but i am not bothered. So, there is potential for awkward situation. If one starts to care and want. But that is why I heart my new paradigm. There is a zen like purity about it because it eschews desire and want and requests living in the here and now. It is slightly selfish, but live in the moment, and kiss who ever you want to, as long as it is for yourself, only yourself, and there are no expectations when it is over.

However, even in my tranquil and non-judgemental zen state, i do find it embarrassing that I am wearing the same skirt and blouse that i had on yesterday. And, it is a noticible Miu Miu outfit that doesn't fall under the category of generic. I am taking a long lunch to go home and change. Which will be noticed to, but we work with what we have.

Dicka-ment. No Pre About It.

or alternate title, Luge Effect

The metaphor for the moment when you see a young relationship implode and you are helpless to put the pieces back together again because to do so would be allowing someone else to treat you disrespectfully, letting them get away with risking nothing and yet reaping the benefit (of you); as if from the top of the track, looking at an empty luge car going down a slippery icy track at mach 1, and making the conscious decision not to jump on it.

I almost called him. The cheeky, "yes lets talk about that, you call me", as in, I am going to tell you I am bailing on the weekend, so why don’t you call me to hear it, infuriated me. Yet I told myself that if I call him I can hear his excuse, be graceful about it, and then I could tell him to not waste my time any more, learn how to treat a woman, and send me my cds back.

I had kung fu with my beautiful instructor last night. After coming up for air I had a text from Speed saying, "you home yet". Quote unquote. Then I went home and waited for my flatmate. Whilst waiting I received a " I guess you are still at work or out, call me when free". When flatmate arrived I debriefed her on the ongoing Luge Effect. She took my mobile away and said there is no way you are calling him. He isn't good enough and let him have a taste of his own medicine. I didn't need to be told twice. I have a bad habit of wanting to be the nice person even to the detriment of myself (thanks Mom). Before going to bed I received two more texts. One was blank, and one said "I guess I won't hear from you tonight then baby cakes, x" Both around 11:45. Did you catch that? Now the intimate Baby Cakes and an "x" comes out. As if simple manoeuvres like that are going to lull me into contacting you. Oh you simpleton, I am She-Ra, master of this game. You don't qualify as a minion of Skeletor!

I have given this man so many Benefits of Doubt cards, and thought (nota bene past tense), and had thought despite warning signs will continue to get to know him because he has some redeeming qualities. It has always seemed to me that he didn't want to ever do any work, kept pushing the burden of choosing anything back on to me, and expected some sex demon in return. I am the first to admit that I am a high maintenance woman. If that means I won't do the work for the guy in the relationship but expect them to meet me half way. I thought about listing the multitudes of warning signs in another paragraph. As I told my flatmate last night, I had spotted some issues from the very beginning but thought, who doesn't, he still seems like an interesting enough person to get to know (the Benefit of the Doubt syndrome, beware). But then if I did list them all, I think I would be really embarrassed. Anyway, game over, and the final stats are Number of Dates: 7, Number of CDs I Have to get back: 4. Number of Moments that I am Regretful: 0. *We have a winner*