Bad Boyfriend

Utter frustration!  Steve is ALWAYS late (the honeymoon is over.  The time to impress me is over.  The respect is gone. I'm now being taken for granted.  Being on time is the ONE thing that I feel is a sign of respect of some one's life and time.  His tardiness is really starting to irritate me.  "Can't you text and let me know you're late?"  "Sorry, baby, I just got caught up in something." "All I'm asking for is a text."), he never remembers ANYTHING - even if it only matters to him (it's amazing he gets up for work every morning) and worse I feel like this entire relationship is based on what HE wants.  There's no consideration for me what's so ever.  It feels like it's totally on his terms and only on his terms.  I know he doesn't mean to do this, but boy it sure feels that way from where I'm sitting. The most annoying part? He wants me to take care of him like his mother!  Seriously?  I didn't sign up to have a child.  I want a life partner.  A bonafide grown-ass man!  Don't call me mommy.  I'm not your mommy!  "Well, don't you like taking care of me?"  "Sure, but this is what a couple does for one another.  It's because you care, not because I want to be your mother!" "Okay, Mommy."  Errrrr!  See???  Frustration!

Recently, Steve and I have been having some conversations about faith and my desire to go to church.  Just when I've reached a good point of compromise, and feel he has as well, he announces, out of the blue, while sitting on his front porch, that he can't live with a cat.  Can't have one in his house.  "Why?" "Because of all the fur and dust." Seriously?  Seriously.  That's you're reason?  "Well, unfortunately Meow Mix is part of the package with me.  Didn't you read my online profile? I was very open and honest about who I am and what I bring to the relationship.  Or did you just see some nice photos?" Actually, he probably doesn't remember what I had in my profile.  I swear he has early onset Alzheimer's.  "Yes, I read your profile." Hmmmm.  "At some point you are going to have to make compromises.  A relationship can't be on your terms only."  He said nothing and stared out to the street.

This really bothered me and I knew I had to bring it up again, but it took almost a week to find the time, alone to mention it.  So, it was, after an awesome evening running errands, talking and laughing we finally end up at his house having a late dinner.

E: "So, can I ask you something?"
S: "No.  If you're going to ask me something, do it."
E: "Okay, Let me ask you something.  We had a conversation last week that has really been weighing on me.  Are you serious about the cat thing?"
S: "Yes. I don't want all that fur and dust in my house."
E: "You realize she's part of the package?  I can't imagine anyone who loves me, cares about me or even KNOWS me would ask me to send her packing."
S: "Let me put it this way, my last girlfriend, I loved, and I wouldn't have cared if she had a cat or not."
E: Ouch! He clearly doesn't feel the same way about me that I do him.  I've been willing to make compromise and he isn't.  "You don't feel that way about me?"
S: "I'd like to get there."
E: Sigh....tears are welling up.  Time to cut this convo off.  I take one big gulp to finish my wine, set it on the table and say, "It's late, we should go to bed."

I head directly to the bathroom and let the tears go while he does dishes in the kitchen.  I cry hard and fast, wash my face, brush teeth and head to his bedroom where I changed into my t-shirt and crawled in bed.  Steve joins me about 10 minutes later.  After changing his clothes, he crawls in bed and wraps his arms around me.  I have to say it. I roll over to face him, "I would never do to you what she did to you."  "Huh?"  "Your ex who lied and cheated on you.  I would never do that." "I never thought you would."  "I guess I feel that at our age, after four months maybe you should know whether you want to be with someone or not."  Silence. Great. I roll back over my back facing him.  He removes his arms and instead pulls his legs up behind mine, spooning me.

I was SO hurt by what he said, and I KNOW that I was simply interpreting what he said as it affected me.  Steve could never say anything to purposely hurt me.  Time to call reinforcements: the BFF.

E: "So, what do you think?" after I explained the entire situation.
BFF: "Yep, that all sounds about right.  My hubby is the same.  Hell, all men are the same. But I love hubby and that's just how it is.  I've come to learn that men and women just don't think the same.  I'm always thinking of hubby.  For instance, I always turn the porch light on for him when he's out and I've gone to bed.  I used to get frustrated asking him to do the same and he never would.  Doesn't he care about me?  It's just a nice gesture.  He's never going to leave the porch light on but I know he loves me and it's not for lack of that.  He simply just doesn't think about it.  As far as the cat situation, it's clear to me that he wants to fall in love with you, he's just not there yet.  Give it some time and let it happen.  He will and the whole situation will be moot."

Sigh..she's totally right.  How nice to know I'm not alone and not crazy.  I really was beginning to question if this relationship was right for me.  With that said, another trusted friend said "E, you and I are masters of self-sabotage.  You're scared and making a mountain out of a mole hill.  I think you need to step back, not say anything any more and let your relationship happen."  Thanks, girls.  You're both totally right.

The next few days were not easy.  Typically when Steve and I are in the car, he grabs my hand.  Nada.  Not even near touching me.  In fact, he wasn't even trying to kiss me or be affectionate in general.  This is a problem.  Something is definitely up.  I keep things light and don't bring up anything!  I swear, I didn't.  Then one night we were hanging out at my house and I made my move.  Maybe we need some make up sex. And I couldn't have been more right.  A little sexual healing goes a long way and the next night when he picked me up after work, his hand reached out to mine in the car and held it the entire ride.

xoxo

Steven: Date Three

Someone's nose must have been itching because in moments after posting yesterday, Steven texted:

S: "Are you driving or do you want me to pick you up"
E: "I don't have a car but happy to cab it.  What time?
S: I'll pick you up. 6pm."
E: "Okie Dokie"

What? No "Hi gorgeous"?  Hmmmm....come on and keep the flirting going, dude!

My outfit was laid out on my bed, I showered at 2:30 and then chilled with Meow Mix to paint my nails with a glass of wine.  This is painstaking as some of my polish, I can never remember which, gets bubbly.  Fuck!  Do over! And...Do over!  Finally, acceptable, but not perfect.  I can live with it.

It's Sunday and that means I call my Mom and Dad.  Because I'm meeting Steven at 6:00 (my regular call time) I call her at 4:00.  "Hi!" "Hi, yourself." "What are you doing?" "I'm watching Dr. Zhivago.  I've never seen it."  "Okay, well call me back but I have a date at 6:00 so if not we can talk tomorrow."  "Okay, Love you!" "Love you!" I go back to watching TV and fanning my nails as if I'm desperate to lift myself off the couch by that motion alone.

At 5: 15 I slowly get ready and Steven shows up at my house right on time.  I know this because I am totally ready and see him through the living room blinds walk up to the house.  Wait for him to knock.  Waiting, toe tapping.   Come on and just knock on the door. I can even hear him coughing on the front stoop. The phone rings. "Hi!" "Hi! I'm downstairs."  "Okay, I'll be two shakes."

I walk downstairs and he's at the door with this smirk-smile he does.  It's like he knows something know one else does, and yet it must be funny because it's not devilish, but just....happy.  A quick kiss hello, he grabs my hand, helps me down the stairs and into the car.  We're off....to his place.

I've come to realize over the years that you can never anticipate what a guy's place will be like.  The one's who look so put together can live in a complete pigsty and those who you think are a total mess are the complete opposite at home.  Still, you do get those who are a mess all around and those men who are so totally meticulous about their home you're afraid to touch anything.  It's like being in a museum and you're ready for them to say "I don't use dishes.  They get dirty, so we'll just eat off the freshly polished floors."  With Steven, I had no idea what to expect but figured it wasn't going to be too bad. 

Steven doesn't actually live that far from me, but it was certainly a neighborhood I haven't been in before - remember when I said in a few minutes you can be in a completely different neighborhood?  Even if you've lived in the city 20 years.  It's true.  He owns a three-flat brownstone that he purchased in the late 90's and did a complete gut rehab.  He rents out the second floor to a gal with two dogs, who bark non-stop until she gets home.  Smells like separation anxiety and possibly lack of exercise.  Anywhoo...I'm not here to be the Dog Whisperer apprentice, which I'd actually enjoy, come to think of it.  The third floor is vacant, at the moment.

We park outside the house.  I get out of the car and he comes around to meet me, grabbing my hand and helping we walk carefully across the snow laden grass patch (this is what we call a yard in Chicago) to the front gate, which he gingerly unlocks and then helps me up the cement stairs - original to the 100 year-old house.  There's some ice and he immediately grabs a scoop of de-icer and puts it down.  Brownstones that are broken up into flats typically have one main door that immediate leads to two doors - one for the main floor apartment and one to the second floor.  The third floor entrance is normally off the back of the house.  His door is on the right and we walk in.  Immediately in front of me is a beautiful, large umbrella holder.  A large wall mirror to my left.  I turn to look past the open wall banister into his living room with large, but comfortable looking furniture, two almost tragic pieces of artwork, a large, wooden square coffee table just about a foot tall, and....the projector.  This is a strange new, or at least new to me, trend for boys with toys.  They might have a television and a projector or just the projector.  In this case, there's only the projector, right in front of me, pointing at what would be a beautiful bay of windows but is actually covered by a large retractable screen.  Boys and their toys.  It's hilarious.

I follow Steven to the left through the open floor plan into the dining room.  Here is where he keeps most of his travel treasures from South America.  They adorn the fireplace mantel and above them is a gorgeous oil painting of a long dark-haired woman in a red skirt and white top off her left shoulder.  She is sitting in a chair shyly looking out to us.  She's like a Latino Mona Lisa.  I can't take my eyes off of her. In the center of the room is a large, and I actually mean, HUGE wood table surrounded by an assortment of antique chairs - two leather studded chairs at each end.  It must have taken an army of strapping (mmm..yum) men to move this monstrosity in to the house.  At both ends, the table has a beautiful ceramic tile inlay. Two extra chairs sit in the corners.  This thing is so huge I don't how anyone would get around the table to get those chairs.  It's beautiful but just too big for the space.  As I turn left to follow him down the hallway I notice a wood built in full of his travel treasures - masks made of porcelain and wood, textiles, books and little knick knacks.  I walk down the hall passed the bathroom - big and gorgeous with white subway tile and this ornate cabinet and sink.  I'll check more of that out later.  More artwork in the hallway.

I see the kitchen ahead of me and walk in.  The floors throughout the space are all original.  As I look right the cream, ornate, Mediterranean-inspired cabinets sweep around two walls with the sink in the corner.  Sweeping around further at the end of the cabinets are two rustic wood shelving units with all kinds of unique foods. Passed the door to the back and the refrigerator stands alone. In the center of the room is an old table with two large pieces of granite sitting on top (these granite pieces also appear on the counter tops, which are not granite themselves.

When I walk in Steven is in the process of getting everything ready for dinner.  He pulls out a box of noodles, a huge plastic jug of Ragu, a large jar of minced garlic and a bag of Swiss cheese slices.  No kidding.  I can't make this shit up.  This is dinner.  He turns to put water in the pan and reaches out for me.  I succumb and he kisses me.  Both of us forget about the water for a moment until I pull away.  Normally in this situation I would be uncomfortable and pull away immediately, but I didn't.  I've resolved to let love in and there's only one way, to allow it to happen; to give it a shot.  He turns to pull the pot out from under the water and put it on the burner.  In the meantime, I walk to a spot by the table.  After turning on the burner he comes to me, opens his arms and we just...hug.  It seemed like eternity and yet it ended too quickly.  He pulls away slightly and kisses me again this time with much more diligence.  He steps away to stir the noodles.

Steven isn't really a chatty guy.  He's kind of quiet and walks around with his smirky-smile, perfectly content in his own world. So I begin to ask him questions about his family.  "My mom lives in Puerto Rico, so we have someplace to visit!" She moved shortly after her divorce to his father.  He is the middle child of three boys and then a half brother.  His youngest brother moved to Puerto Rico with his mother.  Two live close by and one in Miami.  "Have you been to Miami?  We have a place to stay when we go."  Hmmm...making future plans....hmmmm.  The saddest part is that when his mother comes to visit she chooses to spend time with his brother and his kids.  I can tell it kind of bothers him.  "Do you want to watch a movie?"  "Sure."  He leads me back to the living room and pulls out three large plastic trays of movies. Two more remain on the floor next to the couch.  It's either the "Tales of Despereaux", "Battlestar Galactica" or "Get Smart".  I pick the latter.

I walk back into the kitchen and ask him more about his house.  "Yeah, and it's great to have a roommate to help out."  What? Uhm...roommate was never mentioned before.  "Well, it's nice of him to let you have the place to yourself tonight." Cough. "Uhm yeah."

The noodles are done and he pulls out two colorful plates out of the cabinet and sets them on the table.  After draining, he grabs one plate and spoons some spaghetti on to it, sets it down in front of me and instructs me to scoop my preferred amount of garlic on the noodles.  He then takes the big jug of Ragu and pours it on until I say stop.  Next he takes two slices of Swiss cheese, places it on top of the concoction, covers it and puts it in the microwave.  I stand there watching in some disbelief.  He repeats the pattern for himself. While I'm waiting for his to cook, I turn to the refrigerator to read the article posted with magnets.  Steven walks up behind me, wraps his arms around my waist and snuggles his nose into my neck. "Mmmmm...you smell good." The microwave dings and he turns away to pull his plate out.  Each plate goes on a tray with fork, a glass of water for me and homemade apple juice for him.  We walk back to the living room and place the trays on the coffee table.  He puts in the movie, turns on the projector, hits the lights and we sit to eat. I'm not going to lie, I was a little skeptical, I mean, are you serious?  I dated a guy once who said he'd cook for me, but didn't have a clue.  It took two months before I realized he was getting take out from a variety of restaurants.

Trying to be nice. "Not bad.  The Swiss cheese gives it a different flavor."  "See! I knew you'd love it."  "Well, love is a bit much.  Let's see if I throw it up or not.  Thanks.  He grabs my head and presses our faces together. He laughs.  When Steven laughs he leans his head back, opens his mouth and the sound rises from his Buddha belly.  A little like Santa but not has full or long.

We finish dinner and I head to the bathroom.  Once in the bathroom my breath is slightly taken away.  he rehabbed this?  It's beautiful.  I look at the toilet and go to grab some TP, cuz I always do that prior to squatting, cuz you never know, and on top of the toilet is a curling iron.  Hmmmm... I finish my business and go to wash my hands.  Right there on the shelf is a wooden leaf and in it lay a cool turquoise ring. I try it on and it fits.  A female's ring.  Hmmmm....is his roommate a woman?  Hmmm....why didn't he say something?  Whatever.

I return to the couch, kick off my shoes and grab the blanket to warm my bare feet - his apartment is chill-ill-lee.  He asks if I want to lay down, I say yes, and he whisks away the pillows from the couch selecting two to position behind our heads.  He maneuvers himself behind me to be on the inside and pulls me, hugging the blanket ,back to lay in the nook of his arm.  Of course, he now takes this moment to put his hand on my stomach - please don't feel the bulge.  He reaches up to my face, grabs my chin and pulls my face to his for a serious make out session.  I can tell he's, cough, enjoying it because he moans and the tongue is set free.  I just don't know what to do with that thing!  The majority of the kissing is good but this animal must. be. tamed!  "Mmmm...you're a good kisser.  I just realized that."  Yes, cuz I don't have a wild animal in my mouth.  We stop to take a breath and all of a sudden he's got heartburn and gas (burping not the farting kind like me).  We go back to watching the movie and when it seems to have resolved itself he comes in for more.  It continues this way for awhile.

Half way through the movie he apparently decides he wants more and we just start making out.  Some light petting and he's on top of me.  "We should move to the bedroom." Dingalingaling.  Warning Epiphany.  Warning!  "Actually, would you be upset if I..." "No!" I smile. "Good, it's just that I'm enjoying the pace that we're at."  "Totally."  We continue to make out and he sits up, pulls me on top of him so that I'm actually sitting on his lap.  All of a sudden there's a key in the dead bolt and we both jump.  His legs move out from under me to a seated position on the couch.  My legs are still behind his back and I'm covered with the blanket.  His arm rests on the back of the couch.  It's his roommate.

She (yes I said SHE) is a cute blonde in her 40's.  He makes introductions and I'm kind of confused why he didn't correct me earlier and say that the he was actually a she.  Did he think I would be jealous or something?  To me this is not a big deal, I had a male roommate at one point but he was always with his girlfriend and almost never home.  I still remember when we had a huge spider (E does NOT do spiders) on the vaulted ceiling of our apartment.  Both of us were standing on the couch screaming like girls.  Here I thought I would have a man around the house and I ended up with an eight year-old girl.  Finally we called some real men  to come dispose of the nuisance. I still laugh about that moment. 

The roommate walks back into her room and closes the door.  I look at Steven and laugh.  I can't stop.  "What?"  Trying to catch my breath, "Oh. My. Gosh.  I suddenly felt like I was 17 again!"  We both laugh and laugh.  With her settled in we continued watching the movie.  When it was over, Steven grabbed my feet under the blanket and I laid back on the couch.  He is a terrific masseuse!  Whoops!  I just let a little toot or two come out.  Damn gassy ass!  Well now he knows I fart. I try to cover it by asking questions and we talk.  We talk about scary dreams, my Nuclear bomb, and his repetitive dream from childhood that came every night.  He described how after some time he was actually able to start controlling the dream and change it.  To me it sounded like a video game and I wondered if he was joking, but he wasn't.  It apparently went on every night for years. We talked more about his family, his Mom moving, and the rest of it.  Steven is quite shy when he opens up and talks about himself.  There's a clear discomfort there but it was so nice to learn more about him.

Soon there after we were laying together again, this time E was crammed into the nook between the cushion and the back of the couch.  Very cozy and warm!  His heartburn was still acting up (and thank goodness because I think he wouldn't have stopped kissing and touching me!  It was the perfectly timed, required time out.)  However, at one point, after massaging my head (LOVE!), he began running his fingers down my neck.  My eyes were closed and I heard the direction of his breathing change to look at me.  The way I was laying compressed the little girls (with the help of a padded bra) into real cleave!  His fingers ran lower and lower down the open v-neck of my tee and I thought I was going to lose it!  I can feel my will power crumbling under his touch.  I think screw it (pun intended) and suddenly I regain sanity.  This is not how I want it to be.  It's great that we have such hot sexual chemistry, but I don't want this to be all there is. Plus, E, you're a little desperate for sex, admit it!  Finally, I stopped him and we gathered ourselves, breath included, so he could take me home.  He cupped my face with one hand and said "Such a beautiful girl. I like you...a lot."  "You're growing on me," I reply with a laugh.  Then again, is he confusing desire with like?  It's a guy thing.  Men fall in love with their penis, women with their mind (thanks again for that information, Patty Stinger!).

Finally we peel ourselves apart. He sits on the couch and reaches for my hand to pull me out of the abyss.  I stand to get my shoes and he grabs my hips, pulls me towards him and rests his head on my stomach.  He then raises my shirt to kiss my stomach.  Nnnnoooo not the bbbulllgeee!  I stop him and pull him up.  He turns on the light so I can find my shoes.  We put the couch back together and get ready to leave. 

He grabs my hand as we walk to the car, opens the door for me to get in, I reach down to hit the door lock (so "Singles") and he gets in.  Within a few minutes we're outside my house and he asks in haste and excitement, as if he's suddenly remembered he hasn't asked me to get together again, "Hey, when am I going to see you again?"  Think strategically, E.  "I think Tuesday or Thursday.  Let me check when I get in and I'll text you."  "Ok".

Why, you ask, do I need to be strategic about this?  Well, for one good reason it's getting a bit heated and I need to tame that by not creating opportunities for it to happen too soon.  This means, NOT getting together with him Thursday-Saturday nights because he has three days off, which could mean late night dates and trouble.  I am not in a rush.  In the past, I would have ripped off his and my clothes and had sex too quickly.  Those relationships never had any depth.  We never just talked and got to know one another.  I want this to be different.  I want to find someone who is willing to wait, to have fun getting to know one another. So, Tuesday.  Tuesday is good.  We both have to work the next day, he at 5:30a. 

In the meantime, none of the other guys have contacted me except for The Wet Rag who texted the other night.  Unfortunately, a response must be given.  My standard one is "Just want to let you know that I've met some people and moving forward to see how things go there.  Take care."  Gentle but not devastating like "I'm sorry you're about as exciting as a wet rag.  I'm not interested."  There is Don who is a hottie and I think I'm going to text and ask when we're getting together.  I'm just going for it.

xoxo

Bad Dream: Change is Coming

Last week I saw a friend who I've worked with and known for 11 years.  We met because she worked for my client and became super fast friends often sharing our dating war stories.  She is now in her 40's and still drop dead gorgeous - when I saw her this summer (the first time in years) I wanted to throw up!  She has dated and dated and dated over the years, and why wouldn't she: she's GORGEOUS.  The funny thing is that she could never settle down with a guy.  Well, until she recently posted on Facebook that she's engaged.  Yep!

So, when I saw her last week I was all over the ring and questions about the guy.  "You know, it's weird," she said.  "I was very happy in my life.  I had good jobs, own my own condo, drive a great car, have amazing friends and the cutest dog...I was very happy.  He came to me on my terms and has made me want to settle down."

E: "The thing I have realized is that I'm afraid of getting into a relationship like this because I'm scared of making the wrong choice."
F: "Yeah, I was there too.  It's different when someone really wants to be with you they are always there, proving it."
E: "True, but I immediately see it as suffocation.  The guy does everything he should, just like a movie, and yet I see it as negative, not positive affection, or even that he's working to get my attention."
F: "Yep, sweetie, it's time gals like you and I realize and let go or we will be alone for life."
E: "Wise words, sister, wise words."

And with a quick hug she was off to pack for a trip to warm Mexico the next day with her fiance.

I got to thinking about it a little bit more this week, and I really am proud of myself for being part of something with Steven.  Even if it's just to see if there is substance there.  If I want to fall in love, or have someone fall in love with me, I at least have to give them a chance.  Damn fear!  Now I'm at this place where I've been alone for so long that it's what I know; it's safe.  I've dated men (subconsciously) who were emotionally and geographically unavailable because I knew it wouldn't go anywhere.  Problem is, that with the emotionally unavailable ones, there really are few warning signs.  It's not until they tell you they just got out of rehab on your fourth date that you see the RED flag.  Yet, ironically, I want to be in a relationship.  Go figure! 

Moreover, I am having these feelings that tell me to go out with others, try a few other boys on for size, and that could be the fear or "this is your last chance" talking.  Since I've rarely been in this place over the last 10 years, I do have this strange, retarded way of thinking that suggests I should only be dating one at a time.  This feeling of guilt that I'm going to be the one to do the hurting is somewhat overwhelming, and frankly it's stressing me out.  All of it.  However, my friends have sage advise on this:

"Date, date, date!  Dogs don't chase parked cars"

"Have fun...kisses aren't contracts"

I do know something big is about to happen.  Last night I dreamt that I was running and jumping into a revine to protect myself from a nuclear bomb blast.  I know, c-r-a-z-y.  You're thinking "what is going on?"  I have to admit that in my life when something is about to change for me I have these frightening, near-death dreams, which I can only explain as a warning that part of me is about to die and blossom into something new, or BIG changes are coming my way.  Usually it's tornados (hey, I'm a Kansas girl) or being shot at.  When I'm being chased and shot at I know that something needs to change but I am denying it from happening; hence running away from it.  Having an understanding keeps me alert and helps me realize when I need to let go.  To give up and let God! So you can imagine how I felt when I gasped and sat up in bed, sweating.  Nuclear bomb means something pri-tteee serious, me thinks.  What?  Well, we'll all find out together.

Of course I had to search for the meaning and here's what I got:

"To dream of a nuclear bomb, suggests feelings of helplessness and loss of control. You are experiencing some strong hostility and rage, where it is nearly destructive. Important changes are about to occur. You may also be expressing a desire to wipe out some aspect of yourself. Alternatively, the nuclear bomb serves as an indication that something crucial and precious to you has ended."

Precious...like my singledom?  Or maybe now I may believe that the process of deciding to move is really about letting go of everything I've held on so tightly to so I can actually grow and receive more blessings....

Why is it that when you answer questions others are created?

In the meantime, there are about 12 pairs of jeans in stack in my closet.  None that fit, so I'm preparing myself for an outing of finding the perfect pair to fit my new, wider butt and tummy, for tonight's date with Steven.  It's like boys, you have to try on a lot of them before you find the right one. 

xoxo

Steven: Date Deux

At 3:30 Thursday I still had not received a call from Steven about our date, so I called him.

S:" Hi, gorgeous!"
E: "What are you doing?  Are you at work?"
S: "Nope, out shopping and running errands. You?"
E: "Ah, I'm working.  I hadn't heard from you and want to see if we're still on for tonight"
S: "We better be. I want to see you.  I was going to call you later but wasn't sure when you get off work."
E: "Cool, what's the plan?"
S: "I'll pick you up at 7:30 and we'll head to dinner."
E: "Groovy"

It was still 6:00p and I was rocking out to Michael Jackson and finishing up work until I realized I needed to get in the shower.  In a flash the shower is on and I'm ripping off clothing and letting them drop to the floor of my bathroom.  Now, I love my shower.  Last year Santa brought me a beautiful shower head that is so relaxing, I could actually let an hour slip by without notice.  That could have easily happened...but, it didn't.

Thursday was a pretty awesome day.  I established a new contract with a client, have interest from a new client (whom I actually met a year ago, but he wasn't ready for me yet) and...with a little extra cash in my pocket, and looking ahead, I decided to stop by one of my favorite consignment stores on the way home from my meeting at Starbucks.  

I adore this store, but you do have to be careful because there is a load of designer wear and you can easily spend a couple of hundred dollars.  This was not the case for me!  After trying on several pieces, I opted for a short, black cotton dress, sleeves that tie at the elbow and a low, scoop neck adorned with a roped piece of the same material for $42 and 20% off that, and a thick, woven belt in different shades of brown and a large silver buckle for $20 - it goes with EVERYTHING! Good investment.

Showered and shaved, and now somewhat sweaty from the steam, I turn up the Michael (thanks to the neighbors being at work) and dance around the living room.  I just lllooovvveeee Michael!  Pour a glass of wine, blow dry hair and walk into my bedroom where my outfit is perfectly laid out.  First, tights (NOTE: on dry winter days a hint of hairspray on tights helps prevent static cling), dress and back in the bathroom to put on make up and straighten hair.  It's now almost 7:00 and he'll arrive at 7:30.  Quick look in the mirror and I'm actually having a fantastic hair and make up day.  Yea!

I grab the same snake print clutch as before, put on some red socks and grab my camel boots, turn towards the living room to put on boots when like a banana peel under my foot my right foot slips and I come crashing down on my knee...on tile.  Ouch!  Now, this could be really bad.  Over 20 years ago I blew out m ACL and lately it seems the years of dancing are starting to take a toll.  I kind of freak out about it.  I sat on the floor.  DAMN IT!  Bend my knee.  No pain.  Shwew!  I get up and walk to the couch and have no pain.  Good, but I know it's going to be bruised and swollen for more than a few days.  I put on my boots.  Text:

S: "I'm down stairs"
E: thinking he better be at my front door "Can you hear Michael?"
S: "There's something wrong with you"
E: "You have no idea.  Be down in two shakes"

Trying to not do more damage by turning my knee, I whiz around grabbing everything I need.  Since Steven offered to pick me up I opted not to wear the thick (highly un-sexy) Thinsulate coat and go for something lighter and more stylish.  Walking down the stairs...he better be at my door.  I open the door and there is Steven in a black wool pea coat and knit cap leaning against the wood railing and resting one leg on the top step.  He slowly raises his head.

E: "You should have knocked"
S: "With Michael rockin' I didn't think you'd hear me"
E: "I'm pretty sure I would have"
S: "Mmmmm...You look beautiful" He steps on to the main level and puts his hands on my hips pulling me in for a hug.  He sneaks a kiss, and then another before hugging me in an embrace that was warm, strong, long and felt safe.  "I'm hungry, let's get outta here"
E: "Sounds good.  I didn't have lunch"
S: "Girl!"

He grabs my hand and helps me walk down the steps, which even covered in slush can be a death trap for a woman in high heels, and opens the car door for me.  On the front seat papers with a headline stating "Anit-Terrorism".

E: "Is this work stuff?  Top secret.  Maybe I should read it to learn more about you."
S: "LOL go ahead!"  I simply put it in the back seat without looking at anything further. 

His car is incredibly cleaner than it was the first night. Gone is the litter of food wrappers, drinks, random scraps of paper and other odds and ends.  I was impressed.  Immediately in the car, the smart ass comments start flying.  We're just volleying back and forth to one another.  "Oh my gosh!" I wipe his lips, "You have my lip gloss all over your lips."  "Mmmm....I like that come here and give me some more!"  "It is a great color for you."

We drive down the main street in my neighborhood heading south to what I can only assume is his hood.  He reaches for my black suede gloved hand.  "If you're cold I'll keep your hand warm."  I remove the glove and return it to it's position in his and we remained that way until approaching valet at the restaurant within a few minutes.  One of the things I love about Chicago is that in a few minutes you can be in an entirely different neighborhood.  We get out of the car, he walks around to grab my hand and escort me to the door.  Via Carducci.  This is the second, smaller location of one of my favorite Italian restaurants in Chicago. Comfort food.  Yum! He opens the door and we're immediately seated near the bar in the middle of the room.

We take off our coats and I seen that Steven has improved his fashion for this date. He wore dark jeans and a cream cable knit Nautica sweater.  I didn't have a chance to check out the shoes, but I was impressed with the top half. We sit and the flirting continues.

E: "STOP IT! I need to decide what I'm getting."
S: "You're so going to fall in love with me."
E: "Hmmm...I don't know about that.  You have a lot of work ahead of you to make that happen."
S: "I'm up for that challenge..."

A bottle of wine, Grilled Calamari appetizer, Eggplant Parmesan and Rigatoni Italiano (shared on a bread plate in the middle of the table) and I am stuffed to the gills.  Over dinner we talked and I asked again about his job.  The same answers....

E: "So, no not that it matters, but are you going to be straight with me about what you do?"
S: smile "I'm a police officer of aviation."
E: "What does that mean? Do you work for Chicago Police Department?"
S: "Nope, I do anti-terrorism, bomb threats, plane crashes and simply keep the airport safe."
E: "So what do you do at work.  Like what did you do today?"
S: "Nothing."
E: "Nothing?"
S: "Yeah, nothing.  Just stood around and watched people."
E: "Well, people watching is always good entertainment."

And that was the end of that.  He asked me about my work and we just...talked...It's so easy.   I learn that he is actually Spanish and Italian and his family came to the U.S. from Puerto Rico. He digs in his pocket and pulls out a business card with his full name and contact information (which comes in handy for cyber stalking the next day).  His last name is like a song.  It's Italian and so beautiful as it rolls off the tongue. 

The waiter removed the plates and Steven reaches his hands across the table, open like a flower asking for mine.  I answered with a smile and placing my hands in his.  He looked down at them, massaging and rubbing them silent.  He gives a half glance up at me and our eyes meet.  He smiles and looks back down. (There's an equally decent chance that he was enjoying the view of cleavage since my elbows were resting on the table, pushing my shoulders up, elbows in and the little girls out!)

S: "I want to take you to Peru.  Mayan ruins.  It's so incredibly beautiful and you would enjoy it."
E: "I would love to."
S: "What's your favorite spot?"
E: "Dying to go to Paris and left a piece of my heart in Italy.  However, I love going to my parent's place in Wyoming.  There is so much I love to do there but I can't do by myself.  My parents aren't capable any more and I've longed to share it with someone."
S: grabs my hands tighter "Sounds like something I'd love to do."

At this point, I don't have any idea what this guy is doing to me, but I'm absolutely starting to swoon.  Our eyes linger longer, my smiles become flirty and shy as I turn my head away.  Finally he pays the bill and valet appears to offer the car. Steven helps me on with my coat takes my hand, opens the door and then the car door and we're off again.  This time in the direction of my house.

E: "Where are we going?"
S: "You're house."
E: "Uhm....what?"
S: "I'm being spontaneous.  Thought we could watch a movie."
E: "Uhm, my house is not ready for public consumption.  You might have warned me."
S: "Well, we can just go to mine, then."
E: "No, this is fine but let's stop and get some wine."
S: "Okay."

We pull up and I continue harassing him for inviting himself over.  Before I reach for the door handle, still holding my hand, pulls me to him for a kiss.  Then, we're up the stairs and into my modest apartment.  Don't get me wrong, it's cute and has loads of newer qualities but sometimes I'm ashamed that I don't live in a brand new beautiful condo with granite counter tops and stainless steel appliances.  I race in and quickly close the door to my bedroom which looks like a tornado lifted the entire contents of my closet and dropped it on my bed.  Plus, the wall is peeling and it's an ongoing issue with the shitty landlord to get it fixed.  I'm picking my battles right now but it is not something I want someone to see.

I take off my coat and hang it on the hook behind the door.  Steven leaves his on the dining table chair and looks around.  I grab his hand to give a quick tour and he kisses me, there, in the dark of my small office.  I go to turn on the television and he wonders back into the kitchen to look at the pictures on my refrigerator - there are a load.  With little wall space the refrigerator has become a wall of photos including the BFF, the family, friends from my hometown and lots of babies.  He asks and I tell him who everyone is.

Finally he comes into the living room and we snuggle under the down comforter, legs out before us on the ottoman.  We settle for the season finale of "Desperate Housewives of Beverly Hills" and I tell him who's crazy, who's not, and a synopsis of the drama.  He just laughs and grabs my hand under the comforter.

E: "You know....I think we skipped out on our tab the first night."
S: "Okay, I was wondering about that and felt really bad because I figured you ended up getting it."
E: "Nope, I still thought you had, somehow."
S: LOL "Oh my gosh!  I can't believe that happened.  I am so sorry!"
E: "It's fine but I feel bad."
S: "Yeah, me too."  His hand softly brushes my cheek.  "Hmmmm....I like you."  I smile and he kisses me. "When can I see you again? Tomorrow? Saturday? Sunday? All three?"
E: LOL "I have plans Friday and Saturday but Sunday will work."
S: "I'll cook for you."
E: "Whoa!  I'm sure your toast or Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup is divine, but let me know so I can eat beforehand."
S: LOL "I'm not a completely lost cause.  I can make spaghetti."
E: "Out of a jar doesn't count."
S: "I add some ingredients. You'll like it."
E: "I better because I like it when a guy cooks for me."
S: "Ugh, I guess I need to enroll in a cooking class."
E: "Looks like it."
S: "I like you."  I smile and he left a few minutes later.

Today's cyber stalking produced some answers.  I now know that he works for the FAA, has barely used LinkedIn and MySpace accounts (seriously, dude? No one over 12 uses MySpace anymore!), a Twitter and a Facebook page. I also located his address and google mapped his house with satellite view!  Hey, you should know that he stalked me as well.  He texted this morning to confirm our date - dinner at his - for Sunday night and said "Nice website".  Mutual cyber stalking is allowed!

There is another guy I met online who I'd like to go out with before putting my eggs all in this basket.  He's really good looking and also well-traveled, but I already know that the odds of him being as sweet to me as Steven are not high.  Not even close.

xoxo

The Date Report: Steven

I know I promised a full report on Saturday but I ended up taking a day for moi, including sweat pants, my down comforter, Dog Whisperer, some DVR and Cold Mountain.  It was awesome!

So, without further adieu....

At 3:45p I looked into my closet with frustration and some horror.  I can't wear jeans, because their all a wee bit too tight on me so it's tights or leggings.  In this weather....leggings.  I call my gf Megan* who says "no" to the leggings and jeans would be good.  Jeans are not good.  "I can't get into any of them".  "That's all in your head."  "Oh, yeah, it's all in my head that my fat ass can't get into any of my jeans.  They don't fit, so how is that in my head?".  She sighs and says okay.  After about 20 minutes of disgust looking at my closet, I finally manage to select three outfits.

1. A maroon knee length, v-neck sweater dress that I would normally wear with tights and boots.  I tried it on and made a face in the mirror.  Too many bumps and bubbles.  So, I put on the tights.  Still too many.  Then I looked at the drawer in my dresser in fear of the one thing that lay inside.  Slowly opening the drawer it had somehow found its way to the top and it stared me straight in the face.  A girdle.  Yep, no fancy Spanx (which I think is a nice word for girdle) but a full fledged girdle.  Ughhh....I pulled it out gingerly praying that I wouldn't look better with it on and just give the whole thing up.  I slipped my feet in and PULLED and...pulled.  Sucked in some air and pulled some more.  It was on.  I slipped the dress on over it, looked in the mirror and I did look better but I also felt like any false move and the damn thing would explode, my bumps and bubbles along with it.  I did NOT feel sexy or beautiful.  I took a picture and sent it to Megan who said "gorgeous".  Ugh.  I don't feel that way.  So, it had to go.

2. A grey dress, that totally reminds me of something I owned in 1988.  It's tight on the butt and legs and then baggy on top where a silver pattern of circles or bubbles rests on the chest - believe it or not, this pattern actually helps those of who are mammary gland challenged.  The sleeves reach elbow length and a large boat neck allows me to wear it low on the chest as a v-neck or it falls off the shoulder.  Black leggings and black boots complete it.  I look in the mirror at what's become my "go to outfit" and think this might be a bit too much for a first date and a little bit too nightclub-ish.  I strip it off.

3. A long sleeve sweater/dress top with a low collared v-neck.  The thin acrylic material helps it hang and brings enough warmth that I won't be sweating indoors or freezing outside in the frozen tundra.  I pair it with jeggings (YES, I said JEGGINGS!  Shutup!  Their totally comfy) and camel knee-high stiletto boots.  I look in the mirror and see the first pleasing reflection of myself in months.  This is the one.  It's a little bit more casual than the others and very date worthy.  I also send this to Megan for approval and get it. 

I was moving slowly and it took another hour getting ready between sips of wine.  I wasn't nervous but I definitely was stressed.  Flat ironed hair to perfection, got frustrated with my eye makeup and ended up completely washing my face and doing it again.  Better, but I was missing my makeup Midas touch.

I feed Meow Mix and look at the clock - 5:10p.  Okay, I'm running late but I can hurry.  I reach under the white bed skirt and pull out the Tupperware container/box that holds my supply of clutches and other non-everyday bags.  I pull out this great snake print clutch that I got at H&M.  This bag rocks and I actually have a couple of the same style.  It's actually a multi-use bag.  The shape is square with handles at the top so you can fill it all the way and carry by handles, or throw in the essentials and fold it in half as a clutch.  Clever design, really.

I lay all the essentials out on the table and pack them one by one, most of them having their own specific place.  The rest jumbled together at the bottom, which will present an archaeological dig later to find my "lip jazz" (aka Burt's Bees tinted lip moisturizer).  Look at the clock.  Shit.  5:17. Shit.  I run into my bedroom grabbing jewelry (there is no time for decisions), quickly decide on the blue and silver circle necklace set Sister2 gave me for Christmas, and I was impressed by this gift!  A first ever.  The color sets off the blue jeggings and my eyes.  I like that my outfit is not matchy-matchy.  I've never been that kind of gal.  Fashion is, to me, an expression of art, creativity and who I am.  One more glance in the mirror.  Back to the bathroom to grab a comb for hair touch ups.  Suddenly I realize I have not put on socks or boots. Shit.  5:23. I quickly take off the jeggings, rub the bottom of my feet with deodorant, pour some baby powder in and pull a striped pair of wool knee high socks (seriously, this does help!), jeggings, zip up the boots.  Ready.  5:25.  Shit.   I wrap my purple Pashmina scarf around my neck, slip into my long Thinsulate coat - zip, snap, tie - grab my 1920's-inspired hat from Target (I get so many compliments on my hat!), gloves, keys, bag and fly down my stairs.  Opening the door, the arctic blast hits my face and the street lights are reflecting off the icy sidewalks.  Potential death, or shattered hip, await me.  Awesome.  Pull out phone. 5:32. Shit, shit!

Unlike my neighbors, I was smart enough to put down de-icer on my sidewalk that morning.  But that was the only danger-free zone.  I made my way to the grassy area and shuffled along on my toes - baby steps to safety.  Finally I make it past the end houses to the crosswalk and scurry across to the school sidewalk - always clear.  I get to my usual corner to grab a cab and...nothing.  Shit. I should have known.  In weather like this, there is never a cab.  Several drive by with their lights off filled with passengers enjoying the warm heat inside as I stand here in boots that have about as much warmth as a freezer.  Awesome.  I pull out my phone for the time.  Shit. 5:40.  And as I put it away the bus pulls up.  Done.

Jumping on to the bus I whip out my CTA (Chicago Transit Authority) card.  "Invalid". What the?  Okay, I pull out $3 and put it in to pay my $2.25 fare - I can't believe I don't have change - "No need for the other dollar," says bus driver.  "Thank you!" I text Steven to report on my delay.  "No cabs."  "Do you want me to come pick you up?"  "Sweet of you to offer but I'm now on CTA."  "Okay - seats by fireplace are taken. May have to work another angle to secure." "My money is on your resourcefulness." "Mission accomplished!"  "Attaboy!" 5:42.

Just 10 minutes later I get dropped at an intersection and prepare to transfer buses.  CTA has this ingenious mobile website where you can get times for buses - CTA Bustracker.  It's brills!  I quickly check the time for the next bus.  What the?  15 minutes?  Seriously?  Knowing that they can often come faster, I begin to walk down the street to the next stop.  I was certainly not going to stand their and freeze my ass off for 15 minutes.  At least walking would get the heart pumping and some warmth brewing. Knowing my CTA card was not working, I tried the trick again and claimed that I didn't have change.  "That's okay," said the busdriver.  "Thanks!"

Finally on bus.  Send text: "Just made transfer will be another 10. I'm sorry."  "No worries."  Ten minutes later, I leap off the bus, refasten the buttons on my coat and haul ass down the block to the venue.  I walk in, look around and see a handful of people sitting at the bar and a few small groups at tall boy tables sharing Happy Hour.  The place is virtually empty.  You'd never know that it is one of the hottest places come summer, jammed with people dressed to the nines and a long line waiting to go up the stairs and on to the beautiful patio on the rooftop. Finally I tell the host that I'm meeting someone by the fire. The host looks as confused as I and finally says, it looks like there is someone sitting in the nook by the fire.  I look and there are a pair legs perched on the table, but that's all I see of him.  I peak my head in and sure enough.  There he is sitting on the banquet leading up to a glass wall.  Inside a thin line of fire burns.  It's not as cozy warm as one might think but it's better than nothing.

"There you are!  Hi!" A big smile came across his face. "Hi, yourself."  We chuckle and he reaches in for a huge bear hug.  Ah!  I love big, tight hugs.  Brother-in-law1 calls it Hug Therapy, and he's right.  I love 'em.  I start to pull away and he grabs tighter.  Awesome!  "You're cold.  I'll warm you up."  Mmmm.

We finally break apart and I take off my coat but leave my hat and scarf on until I can warm up and the witty banter begins.  Wow!  Hilarious!  I love exchanging jabs and witty conversation.  It's one of my favorite things and it was....so much fun!

Steven is about 5"10' and a biggish guy with a Buddha (hey, a little Buddha is good as long as Buddha doesn't get any bigger), large legs and muscular!  His head is shaved and he's donning some killer glasses.  For a moment I was a little confused on his pressing me to dress "sexy" when he had on Brown Timberland lace up ankle boots accompanied by dark blue jeans so worn that the only sign they were once dark is the fine line around the seams, and a bluish-grey sweater.  The guys I typically date would be in nice dark jeans, a long sleeved button down and black ankle boots.  He was dressed super casual and I was happy I chose the right outfit.  Just chic enough but no overdressed.

The waiter came up and asked if I'd like something to drink and I ordered my usual Grey Goose Gimlet up, "Oh, she's going to be trouble!"  I laugh and gingerly slap his knee to say stop.  It felt less like a first date and more like two old friends getting together after a long time. Dare I say, it was very comfortable.  Steven has a shy confidence about him.  Quick with wit but not super gregarious in nature.  It wasn't long before we were just laughing and cracking each other up.  Within 15 minutes he leans close to me and says "I really want to kiss you."  Okay, that was fast! "But I want to wait.  I just don't know how long I can wait."

Within an hour I reached the point in conversation where I wanted to dig in deeper so I asked him what he does.  "I'm a police officer of aviation."  "What does that mean? Do you work at the airport, downtown, what?" "Yes, I work at the airport and help with anti-terrorism, bomb threats, etc."  "So you're protecting us?"  "Yeah, that's a nice way of saying it."  "You carry a weapon and all?"  "Yeah, sort of." WTF, man?  Give me some straight answers!  I never did get one which kind of pissed me off.  I'm thinking he's TSA but can't for the life of me figure out what he's telling me and why he's not just telling me.  Is he ashamed?  Is he undercover?  Whatever. I try again.  "Okay, so are you a Marshall?" "I don't travel."  "Okay, so do you work regular police shifts?"  "Yeah, a few days on a few off and rotation.  I work tomorrow at 5:30."  "In the evening?" "No, morning." "Oh my gosh. We should call it a night soon so you can get to bed."  "Eh, I don't require much sleep." (I hate to pull this book into it but "He's Just Not That Into You" says that if a guys is into you he will go without sleep, find a way to make it through the day and always make time to call you...If I was blind to it before than now I'm thinking he's interested).

After awhile the touchy-feely flirtation increased, the "you're so beautiful" became a regular quote (which a gal never grows tired of hearing), the witty banter continued along with some serious stuff, he began to move in closer and for the first time I allowed myself to linger longer during glances, to study him and allow myself to open to him and see what's there.  I told him about where I'm from in Kansas.  He grabs my hand and intertwines his fingers with mine, "So you're a country girl."  "I grew up in the city of 350,000 people. That's not country!"  "That's country to this city boy."  Hmph.  "Well, country girls are a lot more friendly and confident than city girls."  "I'm beginning to see that."

He asked me why I was single and suggested that I'm a heart breaker.  Hmmmm...maybe a little bit.  I hadn't thought of it  that way.  "I just have some things to deal with.  Relationships with men in my life that I needed to reconcile in order to move forward."  "Hmmm...interesting."  I did open up to him about my dad but didn't go closer to mentioning my abuser/stalker.  He shared that he was super shy growing up and took  a trip to South America where the women are really aggressive and it gave him confidence, and probably made him a bit of a player for awhile.  "But now that I'm almost 40 I'm ready to settle down and look for something real."  "That makes sense.  When is your birthday?" He leans into my ear and whispers "Tomorrow."  "Well, happy early birthday." He leans in again, "Thanks for sharing it with me."

It was almost 10:00 and I insist that we start our departure.  He leans in and whispers "Not without a kiss."  I looked into his eyes and smiled, "Okay."  Wow. Nice, gentle and lots of chemistry.  "Okay, I think we should get our bill and go."  "I want to stay here and kiss more."  "I don't really do full on PDA."  "Okay, then we can finish this in the car. I'll take you home."  "Well, that would be very nice of you." Then we sat and talked a bit longer waiting for the waitress to come by.  She didn't.  I finally said "I have to go to the bathroom.  Let's go."  When I came back he was still sitting there.  I grabbed my coat and he immediately got up to hold it for me to slip on.  What a gent!  Then he grabbed his and said "I'm going to valet for the car."  I stood inside and got this sinking feeling something wasn't right.  He came in to get me, but didn't open the car door.  Instead I stood in front of the car waiting for traffic to clear for one second so I could run to the door and open it before I was bombarded with more oncoming traffic.  I slid into the car, the heater on, and we drove off.

Once at my door, he pulled the car over and, for the first time, I didn't grab the door handle and jump out.  I sat, waited and then he reached towards me, hand on my face and kissed me.  We were now in full blown make out.  The initial kiss was so nice and this one started out the same and then all of a sudden I had a wild animal in my mouth.  This boy did not know how to kiss after all!  My heart sank and I thought "Well, maybe I can teach him as I have others."  But who wants to teach?  I'm willing to help his wardrobe, buy a new, nice, full length coat and trash that entirely too ugly Russian fur (real fur) hat with the ear flaps that just perches on top of his head.  Shutter.  But the kissing.  :( Bummer.  Major bummer.  I finally rescued my mouth from the assault and said "Thanks for tonight. I had fun." "Me too.  I'll see you on Monday."  "Monday?"  "Yeah, that's the next time I can see you."  "Oh, I have a board meeting that night."  "Tuesday?"  "I have a networking group I host that night.  Why don't you call me when you're free and we'll schedule?"  "You are interested in going out again, aren't you?"  "Yes" I say with a sigh and smile.  "Awesome!"

I got out of the car only to see an old neighbor and stopped to give her a hug.  He waited and I told her that my date was waiting for me to go inside and I did.  As I was washing my face, I replayed the night in my head and was very proud of myself.  Proud that I allowed myself to be open and be part of something.  Proud that by doing so I am one step closer to finding my partner.  Proud to let someone be sweet and affectionate to me. Proud that I didn't just grab the door handle, lean over to kiss him on the cheek, leap out, say a quick thanks and I'll talk to you soon and within seconds be in the safety of my home.  Over the years, my wall caused me to shut down; to not get close, not open up, not take the chance.  Often times I would immediately say "this won't go anywhere" or "I'll probably break up with him" so I never bothered to let anyone get close enough to see me. I even did that when I came home.  Immediately I thought "I'm going to hurt him.  Step away now."  When the reality is that is the old Epiphany.  That's the old me and my old modus operandi.  Now that I've done it the last few times I known why I haven't been able to be in a relationship.  I don't let anyone get close.  No matter what happens, it felt really, really good.

Finally snuggled into my flannel sheets and down comforter, doing Sudoku to rest my mind, it donned on me what was off about the end of the night.  I have this sinking feeling that we skipped out on our bill.  Four cocktails and tip.  Probably $50!  Unbelievable.  My phone buzzes.  Text from Steven: "I had a wonderful time with you this evening."  "As I.... :)" And with that I went to bed.  The next morning I texted a Happy Birthday wish and he said "Thanks, country bumpkin."

And with that...we shall see.  There are a couple of other guys I'm talking to and a dating service here in Chicago called to see if I'm still available.  No sex until monogamy and until then I'm dating around, and that includes another date with Steven.

xoxo

Preparations Have Been Made....Countdown Begun

I've been preparing for the date with Steven since last night.  Why so long?  Well, I did my home mani last night (with a bottle of wine) and it turned out to be a disaster.  Too thick, then too much top coat, which made it bubbly, then quick dry which dried it smooth but you could see the bubbles.  Total disaster.  The worst part is that I stayed up later than normal to let it dry and couldn't sleep in this morning because my intern was coming in (that's the great thing about interns.  You HAVE to get out of bed and showered). So, took it all off. Painted bottom coat and then painted one coat each hour today while working to make sure it's dry.  Perfection!

A sugarfree Red Bull and a very hot shower, yummy on this the coldest day of the year in Chicago, and a face mask, of which I already think some bastard pimple is trying to make it's nasty ass way to the surface.  Zapped that shit!

Yep, a balmy 5 degrees currently shows on my thermometer, but the wind chill is definitely under 0. Bbbbrrrr.  It's freaking crazy!!  I wonder why any sane person would bother to go anywhere on days like this.  If I didn't work from home, I would have called in sick or negotiated working from home, for sure!  At this very moment, I write with my hot pink gloves and wool scarf on.  All I can do is think about the warmth of summer.  Not really nervous about tonight (the first date I've had in MONTHS), I'm more worried about the frigid temperatures and the fact I'd rather wear flannels and warm boots then feign an attempt of sexy, which will not be as warm.  It's all about the layers. That's how you survive Chicago winters - well, that and a warm down or Thinsulate coat.  Even then...it's fucking COLD!

Oh, I've already been reassured that Steven is able to "..provide the heat, baby! Don't you worry about a thing." Gotta admit, I like flirtation.  It builds a nice level of excitement, fun and desire.


Years ago a gf introduced me to a wine expert from Seattle who was in town (I know you're reading this and you KNOW who I'm talking about).  He and I were on fire the second we met.  When he returned home the text messages flew.  It was a rapid fire flirtation with some dirty talk and....it was ON!

It wasn't long before he called and asked me to meet him in Minneapolis to help him with an event.  His hotel was overbooked and they couldn't find him another room.  We ended up at a Travellodge so disgusting even the roaches wouldn't set up shop.  It smelled like a combination of ash trays, booze, trash and ass.  I don't want to think about what I might have possibly caught there.  Just breathing in the air was toxic and all guests should have been required to wear masks and goggles along with radiation suits.

A nice dinner out, couple glasses of wine and we were back in the hotel (cough, if you can call it that) ripping each others clothes off.  Needless to say, it was pretty amazing.  Even at the nasty ass Travellodge.  I don't even think squatters and the homeless would inhabit that building if it was empty.  It was NAST-OLA!  All of that heat, simply from text messages.  And then, it was over.  Sure he'd come to town and we'd hook up, but that was it.  No more hot text messages.  The desire had been extinguished.  Was I sad?  Nope.  It was exactly what it had always meant to be.

Tonight, I hope to experience the positivity of owning my shit and dealing with it.  That means how I react to, perceive and respond to men. 

So, I'm finishing up work for the day soon, because I require a load of work before heading out.  If only men appreciated the time and effort that women put in to being presentable for them.  Not to mention the sheer pain of looking fabulous.  All I can think about is stiletto boots walking on the icy sidewalks outside that await me, saying "There's no way around me.  Take the chance.  You won't fall and bruise your ass so bad you won't be able to sit for days.  Trruuussssst me."   Even with wool knee high socks,  I can already feel my feet freezing and the pain of walking with feet that are apparently about to fall off because they're frost bitten and turning black.  I can see it now.  It's going to take me 15 minutes just to walk 25 yards.  Yea.  I can't wait.

All I know is there is a warm fireplace awaiting me...that's if we get there early enough...and a martini to thaw my limbs.  And, hoping the man is just as hot...as he claims!

Full report Saturday..

xoxo

Major Flirt Encounter

To the super hot flirt (dark hair, crisp white shirt, black slacks and reflective aviators, yum!), with whom I shared a quite obvious and long glance as you passed close by me on the corner of Belmont and Sheffield this morning, THANK YOU!!  This girl needed that today.

As I remain high from that brief interaction, I should remember that I cannnnn't driinnnk caffeinated coffee.  Makes my hands shakkkyyy, which makes typing a little challenging.  So instead of a long post, I will share these hilarious pictures.  Apparently these skirts are all the rage in Japan.

One Who Got Away

It's hard to believe it's been nearly two years since the last time I spoke to Joe*.  I remember distinctly having this overwhelming urge to call him and we talked for a couple of hours.  He died suddenly three days later.

Three years ago I was nagging a very old, close guy friend, Tim* about introducing me to his eligible single friends and he did just that.  He and Joe were best friends, went to college and med school together, and were both in Chicago for exams, so we met up for dinner and an evening out.

Word to the wise, don't have the lobster bisque soup at Mike Ditka's.  I did and found myself, just minutes later, hovering over porcelain convulsing and sweating as my body fully relieved itself of the fucking disaster Ditka's called "viable restaurant food".  Thankfully, Joe didn't show up until later.  Can you believe management of the restaurant still made me pay despite my green coloration, testimony from the bathroom attendant and my friends' debate?  Yeah, won't ever be spending a dime there again.

All I can say is nothing can perk you up like some fresh air, a brisk walk and a martini - dangerous on an empty stomach.  Joe showed up about 30 minutes into our nighttime bender and the rehashing of details of my very memorable dining experience. The second Tim introduced me, Joe was on me like flies on stink.  He immediately squeezed himself onto the banquet next to me, threw an arm around the back and started conversation as if no one else was in the bar.  We danced, talked and later made out like bandits.  Hey, few of us are strong enough to resist the words "you're beautiful" and deep eye gaze even if you think the guy's a player. The next morning, as I stumbled out of his hotel room, before I could be spotted as an official "walk of shame" in the lobby (note: always, ALWAYS pack sunglasses and a rubber band), I recounted the night's fun and festivities, thinking that was fun but he's not quite geographically desirable - East Coast.

Geography, schmeography.  Turns out this one didn't care.  We talked on the phone, sometimes for hours, and he visited a few times (read: he stayed in hotel) and offered invitations to me as well, over the next year.  There is no doubt I really liked Joe and it turns out that he was far more into me than he led on.  I found that out later....

It was early October, a Sunday and I just had this urge to get in contact with him.  We hadn't spoken in a few weeks because he was working crazy shifts at one hospital and moonlighting at another to make extra money (the boy had  to pay for his Porsche!).  I just couldn't believe how overwhelming the desire to get him on the phone was.  I left a message and kept my cell nearby until he got off work and called (he always called during his long drive home to keep him company).  We spoke for nearly two hours.  We would laugh so much.  I remember that he was desperately trying to get me to come out for a big sports event and I just couldn't commit.  I suppose that part of me was afraid to get involved with someone long distance, again.  Before we said goodbye, he said he was going to do whatever it took to get me out there.

On a crisp Saturday morning, Ilena* and I (who recently moved out west) decided to do some serious shopping at H&M and Forever 21 in the burbs - cuz the stores are bigger, duh!  On the way out, I received a text message saying that if you have any photos to share in the memorial for Joe to email them.  My heart stopped.  What the???  I immediately called Tim.  He got the text a few minutes later.

Joe died three days after I talked to him.  He had been out running and suffered an inexplicable embolism and fell in his neighbors yard.  He was alone.  Tim said he's pretty sure that Joe knew exactly what was happening.  He was 32 and in amazing shape.    

Joe was one of those super amazing, and I mean SUPER amazing human beings.  One of the best people I've ever known in this life.  I regret now not allowing myself to take that relationship farther.  Tim and I had a lot of conversations afterwards when I found out how much Joe liked and cared for me, and that he knew I wouldn't move from Chicago.  Based on this he never encouraged a relationship beyond what we did have.  I have such regrets.  

This week Tim was in town for business.  I haven't seen him in more than a year.  I have been close to he and his family for a long time.  Almost immediately he mentions Joe and I told him I couldn't talk about it with him.  Well, I might feel that way but clearly Tim needed to talk about it, so I let him.  Later that evening I came home and cried.  After he passed, I'd call Joe's cell phone for several months just to hear his voicemail message.

I was SO blind.  There's no doubt that I have been stubborn and set limitations for myself (insert a LMAO from anyone who knows me), mostly as defense mechanisms and safety precautions, but no more.  If anything Joe showed me that it doesn't matter where love resides.  If it's alive than you have to go to it and know that everything else will work itself out.

I still miss your laugh and spirit, and hear your voice in my head often.  Rest in peace, friend.  You will never be forgotten by anyone who knew you.

Shadows of Ghosts

Last night I went to see the B52's at Ravinia on the North Shore of Chicago. It was Gay BF's office party and a total blast.  I was confused how many people came and then left before the concert even began.  What, like you have to work today?  We stayed until the end and it was a late, late night, which is why I'm pounding a Red Bull this morning (yawn).

Ravinia is one of those places where you can either buy seats or sit on the lawn.  We were on the lawn and his company had a mad spread of food and wine and beer.  Naturally, I immediately parked myself in front of the gal serving wine.  It's really a beautiful place, and a romantic one, at that.

Somewhere I've forgotten about love and how to have it.  As I people stalked, I saw couples everywhere talking, laughing, kissing, being...in love.  It kind of sucked.  The loneliness must be setting in.  I so want what they're sharing, but for some reason it alludes me.  Whether its my past, which includes a pyscho ex, the screwed up fact that I thought men had no emotions because I never had a role model in my father or that I'm afraid of settling for an unhappy marriage like someone I love dearly.  Whatever it is, I look around me and people are achieving love daily, except me.  I just meet flirts who ask me out and after figuring out I'm not going to sleep with them decide never to call again; or they cheat and lie.  Seriously?

This morning when I was working myself out of my groggy state, cursing myself for being so disciplined to actually get up and work, I thought about this all again.  I feel like I am now one of those single 30-somethings that people look at and feel sorry for.  I do see it in their eyes and I hate it.

To make matters worse, I have a reunion coming up next year.  I am hoping to have my status, and life, change by then, but I'm losing faith that it will. I may just be alone, struggling for the rest of my life and that makes me sad.  I don't want to go through life alone.  I want a companion to share life with, to laugh, argue and have rough times that result in reaffirming love.  Or, I suppose I can just stick to one of two plans, one of which is to end everything here, pick up and move far away, start over with something new and accept that I will be alone. (Btw - the itch to quite, move and start over is pretty palpable, but I'd like a door or two to open before just doing it)

Now, I'm very well aware that I'm not actually alone.  I have amazing friends, family and some super cool new blogger friends who j'adore!  However, there's a whole in my heart that those relationships can't fulfill (yes, male parts in all of the beauty are quite essential as well).  I'm tired of searching, waiting, wanting and wondering why this was the path chosen for me.

Maybe...maybe I should just be a big 'ol hooker and get it on with all the flirts I encounter and say "to HELL with it!"

In an eerie way, I feel that I am living the life of a great aunt who never married, really never wanted a companion and died alone in her 60's before I was born.  My grandmother used to mistake me for her when I'd sing or because I was fashionable like her.  She actually called me Helen* all the time.  When her dementia kicked in that's all she called me.  It's as if she believed Helen was reincarnated in me, and I've lived with that ghost for my entire life.  Where once I believed it to be a compliment, may now actually be a curse - it's funny the tricks our minds play on us. 

But is it possible?  Am I really destined to follow her same path?  Am I living (or reliving)  in the shadow of this ghost or can I still reclaim my life and get what I want without settling?

A Flirt: The Neighbor

About a year ago, my neighbor and I made out. He's younger (uhm, FINE! 25. He's 25! At least I'm not going to jail for it) and adorable. He was a terrible kisser but a little instruction and we were good. Again, he's sssoooo cute and adorable.

What I love about guys in their 20's is what I love about guys in their late 30's-early 40's. In their 20's-30's you can imagine what that baby face is going to look like at 40. It may take men longer to grow into themselves, but it's highly worth it and let me tell you, The Neighbor is going to be a super hottie! For right now, he is a load of fun to flirt with and....

So, last night I was trying to be good, getting perfect and ready for a crazy day of events, and I heard all of my neighbors out front. I say,"Sure I can go hang with them for a bit and be asleep by 10:30p." HA! I went down to hang out and let my nails dry without thinking I have a big, HUGE nasty red pimple on my face that is not fit or public consumption - I had washed my face earlier to treat the little fucker with the hope that it might disappear before this morning. That, of course, wasn't the case. Once you remember something like that you start to rest your chin in your hand until you just say "Fuck it!" and keep having fun. My neighbors and I have, for the most part, seen each other at our unshowered-messy-bedhead-unshaven-worst, and while I like to try and look presentable at all times, sometimes you just forget. Oddly enough, it must have been the alcohol or the pot he was smoking, but apparently I was lookin' good to him (doesn't hurt that the sun was setting. I always look better by candle and moonlight)!

I love to watch boys flirt - with me, of course. Some make it SO obvious that it's fun to sit back and receive. The Neighbor is one of those. Sooner or later there was a "come up and check out what they did to my apartment" (make out session - MUCH improved!); "would you like some wine? come up I'll get you a glass" (make out session); and finally the "can you show me where your bathroom is" which led to full on make out session and...more fun. However, me being a stickler that I am, not too much fun was had cuz I had to get up super early. (HEY! At my age, we need our beauty sleep!) Plus, why not save something for a rainy day - in the forecast soon.

It's been some time, I will admit, since I've had this kind of attention and...fun. It's not that I haven't been looking, it's just that The Neighbor is really only fun, whereas I'm looking for a relationship. A lasting one. Someone to have fun with all the time. I'm tired of this transient-lover BS. I want one to stay. Nonetheless, it was MUCH needed fun to remind me of the simple pleasure that is a man. Stay tuned for that rainy day.