Enigmatic Female

Tick, Tick, Tick

Things are, pardon the pun, moving right along. My accounts have all been changed to my soon to be new Dallas address, I have no fewer than five pairs of shoes waiting for me in my new residence, and I am almost finished with the Texas Bar Application, a process I've been dreading for some time. If you're not a lawyer, you might not appreciate that you can't just go roaming about the  country and be able to work in your chosen profession. Oh, no. You have to get registered in whichever state you intend to work, which can either be fairly easy or a gigantic pain in the ass approaching the gravity of the "grape-like hemorrhoids" I once heard described in a very special Oprah devoted to taking a healthy shit (Oprah admitted to peering into the bowl following a dump -- it was classic). Texas is in the hemhorroid category, which has also made it somewhat more difficult to find a job, as few firms seem willing to take on a new hire who isn't already a member of the illustrious institution that is the Texas Bar. Still I persist in my hunt for employment, and am currently waiting to hear from two firms that are quite different but potentially equally enjoyable. I am finishing out things at my current job -- attempting to hand off as much of my current caseload as possible before leaving, while continuing to travel frequently to Dallas to handle as much household reorganization as possible before I bring a truckload of new crap into the mix. Leaving a few items each time I visit hasn't made the dent I intended it to in my store of possessions, so I might have to abuse my baggage limit the next time I fly down (for St. Patrick's Day -- there's a parade!).

Yesterday S called as I was heading from the airport to the office in a cab and said he was in town from Seattle, was in my neighborhood, and would like to have lunch if I was free. I haven't talked to S since he called to wish me a happy birthday in August, pre-brunch, pre-Thanksgiving, pre-Dallas, pre-engagement. I figured that my friend, B, must have told him I was engaged (or maybe even more likely, B told B's mother, who told S's mother, who told S), but I still felt somewhat guilty for not telling him myself, so I agreed to lunch. We met at one of my favorite spots near my office and were soon chatting about people we knew, his goal of moving to New York very soon (he was in town interviewing for a job), and of course, my engagement. He waited until the end of the meal to ask, and I ran him through the entire story, from brunch to proposal, to moving plans. Telling him I was in love with someone else was easier than I thought it would be, but still more difficult than it should be after all this time. We chatted on about me leaving New York and he commented that life moves in four-year cycles and that we're at the end of one (it's been over four years since he moved to Seattle and I to New York, but each of us has been feeling restless for several months and needing a change) and that it's time to take a new direction. He and I broke up at the end of the last four-year cycle, right around this time in February 2002; I was devastated and lost all sense of personal direction for a bit. The end of this four-year cycle is so fittingly the opposite, as I am looking forward to every second of the next four years, knowing that whichever direction I take, Dallas will be there with me.

Pursuit of Balance

My life has become unbalanced in the past three or four months. I no longer go to the gym a minimum of three times a week, or drink eight glasses of water a day, or eat seven to nine servings of fruits or vegetables each day. Indeed, I've stalled to a near halt in doing any job-related work of a substantive nature, and have not completed a book since November (although I've started a few, the latest of which is a biograhy of Catherine the Great). These days, my time is spent daydreaming, making extraordinary lists for moving-related tasks, wedding plans, upcoming expenses, and job search findings, and prematurely packing my belongings into boxes that will soon make their way south via parcel post. I travel frequently, if not always in good nature, and have been watching more than my fair share of television, which was almost absent from my previous lifestyle. I spend hours and hours on the phone (nearly 2000 minutes were spent talking to Dallas on the phone last month, which does not include time we spent together, which was approximately 14 days, so when averaged out, we spent over 100 minutes a day talking on the phone). In some sense, this is just another winter -- as it gets colder and darker, I retreat farther and farther from activity and healthy eating, choosing instead to eat McDonald's cheeseburgers and desserts in an attempt to put myself into food hibernation. I must say, it's working well, but now it must end. I've realized that the happier I've been with Dallas, the less image-conscious I've become, resulting in high calorie, pleasure-giving foods like Butterfinger-topped frozen yogurt, guacamole and margaritas, carryout Indian food, and chips, many, many chips. Since there are already all kinds of food and love-related endorphins coursing through my body, there isn't the need for the runner's high I was craving and achieving this fall. The love-endorphins can stay, and I hope they do, but those pesky salt, sugar and fat highs I've been having must go. The post-engagement grace period is over. The wedding is precisely six months away, and I have about 10 or so pounds to lose before my dress fits perfectly (it fits now, but it could be much better in the tummy area -- no bride wants it whispered that she jumped the gun in the pregnancy department). To that end, I am strapping on my running shoes, throwing a new mix of songs onto the iPod Shuffle, and heading out for some sweaty, much-needed pavement pounding.

July 29, 2006

April 17, 2003

I hate comparing Dallas with Ex but it makes my feelings so much clearer. Dallas is smart, kind, funny, enthusiastic, thoughtful, caring, deep, funny, masculine, likes sports, drinks beer...all the qualities I've been searching for are embodied by him. I am bringing him home this weekend for Easter. It will be very interesting to see how he interacts with my family. I think he's going to fit right in. We've been doing a lot of talking lately and I think we'll be able to compromise on a lot of the issues I was worried about before. The only things I am concerned about is our religious beliefs and whether he thinks I am the right person for him. I am getting way ahead of myself, though...

I Must Have Made Quite An Impression

Remember Eric? The guy I went out with once before he called to inform me that he was trying to make something work with this girl he'd been dating? When he initially told me this (in July, I believe; or was it August?), I was taken aback and, seeking to avoid any awkwardness, told him that if he'd found someone that he could date for two months in New York, he should go for it, and if it didn't work out, he should give me a call. He called yesterday. I was on the phone with Dallas when I got a call on the other line from a 917 number, so I clicked over to see who it was. "Um, hi, Enigmatic? You may not remember me, but this is Eric. We went out once this summer?" "Right, I remember. Can you hold on for a second?" "Yes." I clicked over and told Dallas that this guy was on the phone (he, of course, had already heard about the first round with this guy) and I asked whether he minded if I talked to him for a few minutes. He graciously said he didn't mind. I couldn't figure out how to switch calls back to Eric, and accidentally hung up on both Eric and Dallas. Not to worry, though. Eric the ever-persistent called back not 20 seconds after I dropped the call. I apologized for doing so, then he asked "Do you have time to talk? If you're in the middle of something we could talk later." I said that now was a good time, but that I wanted to know the nature of what he wanted to talk about. "Before you go any further, I should let you know that I'm seeing someone now." To which his unbelievably ballsy (and inappropriate) response was, "Well, then I guess I would ask how committed are you to that relationship?" I replied, "Oh, I'm pretty committed. Very committed actually." He said, "Well, I guess in that case, I'll let you go and stop bothering you." I have a feeling that this dude is looking to nail down a relationship ASAP and is leaving no stone unturned. I must have really made a favorable impression when I handled his news of returning to his girlfriend so calmly. That, or he is completely desperate. In either case, he retained my number these last months and clearly did not hesitate to make good use of it, which is somewhat sweet, and yet scary. Good luck to this fool.

Home For A Holiday, A Reprise

The new (old) boyfriend will be known as "Dallas" hereafter, as this is where he lives and there is a strong precedent in country music of substituting the name of the place for the person who lives there. Now that we've taken care of this small bit of housekeeping, onward to our Thanksgiving adventure with my parents in Maryland:

The first time Dallas visited my family in Maryland, it was Easter 2003. We were not yet dating, just thinking about it and getting comfortable, really comfortable, with each other. As he was presented to my family as a "friend," there wasn't much pressure for them to interrogate him or to weigh each thing he did and discuss amongst themselves whether he measured up to all their hopes and dreams for me. That notwithstanding, each person, as they do, formed their own opinion and reported back to me, by which time we had DTRed and were dating, of which I informed them, to their (only slight) surprise. This time was 180 degrees from that experience, as much has transpired in the past few weeks that I've been keeping strictly private, but will now divulge, in part.

First, we're firmly together this time and my family has been informed thereof.  Second, my family knows I love him. When we traveled together to Pittsburgh two weekends ago for a wedding reception, we stopped and had lunch with my mother and older sister. During this lunch, while Dallas was in the men's room, I told my mother and sister that he had said he was in love with me the prior night and that I had been mute in response until he made a joke to break the tension. Prior to his arrival for Thanksgiving, they were informed that I reciprocated and had told him as much. Third, we are both older than we were last time and fully independent, making any serious relationship a potential marriage and in need of close monitoring (while fully respecting my independence, of course). Needless to say, curiosity abounded.

When I arrived home on Tuesday night, my mom eagerly led me to the bedroom Dallas and I would be sharing to show me the new matching quilts she'd purchased for our benefit. I think she was feeling badly that she didn't have a bed larger than a twin for us to share. Little did she know, we shared a twin bed the whole time just fine. Well, not the whole time. The first night, desperately tired, I slept in my own bed and slipped back into the shared twin bed first thing in the morning. This is the reverse of what I'd always imagined I'd be doing with a non-spouse in my parents' house -- by which I mean that I imagined pretending to sleep in my own bed, sneaking in with a boyfriend in the middle of the night, then returning to my own room in the morning and emerging therefrom for family breakfast or the like.

Wednesday I was busy running errands and making soup until it was time to retrieve Dallas from the airport. I was so happy to see him and not just because he brought me a present:

That's right, envy me. My boyfriend crocheted me a soft lamby pink scarf that I didn't take off much over the next few days. I felt woefully inadequate in the textile arts department after receiving such a gift, but am endeavoring to make it up to him. Mums the word, but I have a most excellent Christmas present planned.

My sister and aunt came over for dinner to get a good look at him, then Dallas and I watched Napoleon Dynamite and laughed and laughed. The next day was Thanksgiving, when the real interrogation occurred. My aunt and uncle, their two daughters, one of my sisters, my brother, and another aunt were in attendance, in addition to my parents, myself, and of course, Dallas. I encouraged a three drink minimum for the men -- it just helps things go more smoothly. My dad and Dallas were into the scotch, my brother was drinking beer and (I think) bourbon or something, my aunt and uncle were drinking Mountain Dew with Canadian Mist, and I had vodka and Fresca, my new "it sips so good" drink of the diet variety. My aunt was asking pointed questions (which were not felt as such by Dallas, so thank goodness for small wonders) about Dallas's occupation (attorney), where he lives (um, duh), and the like. This irritated me, so I stayed away from it.

After being interrogated by my aunt, overseeing a game of Scrabble between my mom, aunts, and sister, watching football and drinking with my dad, hanging out and talking with my brother and sister, and then playing a game with all the women, Dallas made a more than favorable impression. After Dallas left on Saturday afternoon, I spent a good deal of time with my sister and mother debriefing the weekend. Many positive things were expressed, not the least of which is one of my absolute favorite things about him: his ability to have fun under almost any circumstances and to contribute positively to the experience of others. My sister felt that he had done a fantastic job of not rubbing in everyone's face how smart he is (something I sometimes struggle with, as I can be rather a snob), which I also appreciate, along with his complete lack of pretension. Moreover, my dad likes him. I almost fell over when speaking with my dad after returning to New York, when he said, "Tell Dallas that I really enjoyed having him here for Thanksgiving." This is like the golden snitch of parental approval. My dad *never* comments to us about who we're dating whether good, bad or otherwise. A lasting impression must have been made. While it is not something I would have allowed to influence me had my dad not liked him, it certainly speaks volumes about Dallas that my dad expressed verbally that he liked having him around. Up next: meeting Dallas's mother (for the first time; I've met the rest of his immediate family), exchanging Christmas presents the day after Christmas, and making merry with the Enigmatic family for New Year's. After surviving this holiday so successfully, I'm looking forward to all of it.

Fun With Superstition

Daily Overview: Virgo

November 07, 2005

You're ready for inconvenient, total, can't-live-without-each-other love, and you're not the only one. Let the Universe guide you; it may take you where you think you're going, but you'll be happy once you've arrived.


[When explaining to an extremely pragmatic friend that I read my horoscope every day, but that I obviously would never plan my life around it and then asking what the friend thought of me for doing so, she said, "Well, that depends on what it says." I read something similar to the above. She replied, "That's when you know the horoscope is right!" I hope so!]

The Right Time, The Right Place

Something big is happening. I have stumbled, somewhat suddenly into a second chance at a relationship I wrote off over two years ago. It started with brunch, followed by a walk that I didn't want to end, followed by a blunder on my part that precluded the kiss I was sure was forthcoming. Luckily, the blunder wasn't a total loss (hint - when you're reconnecting with someone and think they're feeling it too, do not, under any circumstances, discuss other potential dates you're considering). Since then, we have had several wonderful discussions, which culminated in a DTR (a talk in which you "define the relationship") initiated by him, during which he persuaded me that he's ready for this and willing to make the effort necessary to have the relationship that we wanted last time, but weren't ready for for a number of reasons. I'm thrilled -- I've taken two naps today, just so I could lay in bed daydreaming about this -- but scared, knowing how far there is to fall if it doesn't work out.

Old Friends Are The Best Friends

I have gotten in trouble for past posts on this and other blogs where I've called to light negative qualities about various people that irritate me. In order to restore my karma in this area (and to make it OK to keep doing it where it's deserved), I am going to write about a few remarkable people I know and hope that they recognize themselves in these posts.

The first night I went to a law school drinking event (about 4 years ago), I met a guy who didn't, at that time, drink, as he was not yet 21. I later had the opportunity to attend his 21st birthday party, but that's a story for another time, as it was the first time I met The Roommate. Back to the story: We were all crammed into the basement of an Upper West Side pub, sweating our asses off, and I was ready to leave approximately 8 minutes after arriving due to the heat and the rude behavior of the person I had previously thought the most handsome in our class.  I was standing behind him at the bar, having never met him and not knowing his name. Barely audible over the din of the crowd, he ordered a drink. Standing two feet from him I couldn't hear what he said, but saw the bartender, a woman, place a small snifter of brown liquid before him a minute later. "What is this?" he demanded. She replied, "Hennessy, like you ordered." His friends were now paying attention to this and he was clearly embarrassed and getting angrier by the second (finding out later from a friend that he had a tiny penis did not surprise me based on his clear insecurity). "Why would I have ordered a Hennessy? I said a Guiness!" The tone of his voice cannot be accurately described here, but it was obnoxious and angry and I wanted no part of it. I wandered away, maybe I ordered a drink, maybe I abandoned my plan, I can't remember now.

I went and stood by my friend, A, and decided to introduce myself to a guy in a yellow shirt. He was immediately friendly and not drinking. We chatted for a bit, and for some reason that I still cannot explain, I felt immediately comfortable with him and suggested that we go and get a bite to eat rather than melting in that too-hot basement. He agreed and we went to a small cafe on Broadway in the eighties. We ran into a homeless person on our way who asked us for money. I just shook my head and tried to keep walking, but my new friend stopped to talk with this person for a full five minutes, discussing with him that he would like to help, but could not in good conscience give him money. I was blown away, but a little freaked out. My friend recently told me that he doesn't remember this incident, but it will stay with me.

Over the next year or so we didn't spend much time together, running into each other mostly at group social events. Then, second semester of our second year of law school, we started spending the bulk of our time together. We cooked dinner together most nights, talked and talked, played on swings near our apartments, went for long walks, and generally got closer and closer. Then one afternoon I realized that the person I was getting to know better each day was someone who could be just what I had been looking for since moving to New York, but that I just hadn't considered him in this way before. The more I thought about this and the more time we spent together, the more convinced I became that we should try dating. I confronted him (awkwardly) about this and he had some serious reservations, but we went ahead with it. For several reasons that I will not elaborate on, not the least of which was bad timing, it didn't work out. Last night he said that he hadn't handled things well with our relationship, but I think neither of us knew what the hell we were doing and it's a testament to our friendship that there has never really been any awkwardness between us since then.

My friend has never really let me down--when I've needed to talk about anything, even the boring and depressing, he's always listened. Aside from being an intellectual peer and being able to make me laugh on command, he's one of the few people who really sees me. All of me. Flaws too. And he doesn't judge me for any of it. Once I had this plan that backfired where I tried to guess the parts I thought he wouldn't like to hide them away and only show him my virtuous nature (a stretch, I assure you). I was shocked and delighted to (much) later discover that he likes and accepts the very things I thought I had to stifle, and that my favorite qualities about myself are also ones he enjoys. It's amazing how little I understood about him at that time from my current vantage point. From where I stand now, he is easily one of my favorite people and I am so glad to have had the opportunity to know him.

The Serial Summer Has Ended

In the past few weeks I've been systematically closing out my summer of bad dates with odd men. All told, I believe I saw eight people over twelve weeks and I'm exhausted. This is not a sustainable lifestyle by any means.

First there was Chris. An overall good guy who had a taste for beer, hockey, and public displays of affection. Our most notable experience was seeing raccoons together in Central Park where we stood making out at 1:30am. He was by far the most normal of the lot, just kind of blah. It quickly slid downhill from there.

Second on the list was Rob. 5'2" posing as 5'5". He led me to make an observation about proportionality in the lies men tell about their height. Everyone has heard that men add 2", but I assumed (wrongly) that the shorter the man and the more obvious the lie, the fewer inches he would add. Wrong. This dude and I had a full out conversation about how he hates when women judge him about his height, and how the problems women have with height are all their own, when clearly guy had some major issues. That and he was intensely boring, ordered a White Russian at a pub known for its beer selection, and has never lived outside of New York. No, really. He has barely left it at all, in fact.

Third up was Dave, a hottie musician, and I believe recovering alcoholic. We only had one date, but it was full of laughter and awkward making out. He was my first experience with men who trim their pubes and chest hair. I thought I liked this at first, but no, no I didn't.

Fourth was Jeff. Dear God. He never got past the stage where it's OK to list Ayn Rand as your favorite novelist and the boy lisped. No potential. He was, however -- by far -- the most polite of all the boys. He called to ask me out on a second date, which I responded to with an email expressing my disinterest, to which he responded with a kind email saying he could tell I wasn't interested and returning my good wishes. Stand-up fella.

Fifth and worst was Josh. The rudest, weirdest, most issue-laden, and likely gay of the lot. So I went out with him 5 times and let him sleep in my bed. Stunning display on my part, really. I even cooked him breakfast. If I never hear another man call his mother "mommy" or saying that he just took a great shit and now feels all cleaned out and nice, it would be A-OK.

Sixth was a fellow golfer named Peter who I never actually went out with. While I was on the phone with him making plans for our first date, I got a call from number 7, made plans with number 7, and when I returned to the first conversation, he'd hung up. My roommate (curses!) made me call him back. He talked like Stan's sister from South Park. You know, braces, throat full of saliva, crazy speech problem. Yeah, that was him and I'm a total bitch for putting that into words. We had a date, he cancelled due to something family-related and never called to reschedule. No hardship.

Seventh, Eric had perhaps the most potential. That is, until he called me the Wednesday following our date (which had ended with an awkward kiss planted somewhere near my hairline) and said that the woman he'd been dating for a couple of months before he met me called him to reconcile the day after our date and that he wanted to work things out with her. I wished him the best and told him to call me if it didn't work out. Stunned, I think he considered leaving her on the spot based on my oh-so-cleverly- adult response to his news. Sometimes I impress myself. I would never go out with him again, though. What a pussy.

Finally we have another Chris. Lovely how that creates bookends, right? I could never quite pin down what this guy does for a living. He paid for our iced tea ($4.89) with a credit card, not a good sign. He talked too fast, left me alone for 20 minutes in a record store on our first date while he "went to the bathroom," talked quite a bit about my drug resume (scanty compared to his, I can guarantee), and thought that a great second date would be staying in at his place with a movie and a bottle of wine. Surprising, considering he asked whether it was moving too fast when he held my hand on our first date. Did I mention that when I jested about driving away the pigeons who nest near our living room window, this guy had a ready plan on how to kill pigeons? He also idolized his cousin's husband who would visit estate sales on Long Island, get antiques at low prices, bring them to Manhattan and "make one or two grand a weekend." He would "like to make that kind of money." Get a job, motherfucker, get a job.

And now I rest.