Frozen Tundra, Frozen Heart

If you've ever wondered what it's like to be an igloo, come to Chicago.  It's cold and there's WAY too much snow - although pretty, I had to shovel and so it loses its novelty quickly.  Even typing, I can feel every single muscle in my hands and arms. Let's not talk about my back.  However, I want to lose a 10-er and I certainly dumped some cals yesterday.

Due to the storm arriving Tuesday, Steven was put on mandatory overtime and wasn't going to leave work until Thursday, so we rescheduled our plans.  That is until he texted me at 4:30 saying they had too many people on and he was coming home, would I like to get together.  Dude, major snow storm has already started.  We're talking BLIZZARD!  Are you nuts? I responded that it looked like traffic and roads were getting bad and it would be better to wait.  He seemed bummed.  It was like he had no idea that the third worst storm on record was hitting us that night!  Then again, if a man wants something he'll cross rivers and dig through snow drifts the size of The Rockies to reach it. 

Sure enough, within two hours I was downstairs shoveling - four inches.  My neighbor was out and offered to help.  Three hours later I go back out and my previous efforts had been completely blown away.  It was as if I hadn't been out there at all.  So, I shoveled again.  By morning, there was absolutely no sign of my hard work and this is what I awoke to:

Yep, that's a car, kids.  Right in front of my house.  Fortunately, I was smart enough to make a deal with the two boys downstairs to help with the shoveling.  Boy One started about 9:00a and made his way through about two feet of snow in a four foot path on the sidewalk before giving up.  While I appreciate his efforts, the foot of snow on our landing was shoveled into the gangway on the side of the house (a walk way between houses for people to get to their doors in a multi-flat building.  Not to mention where our mailboxes are) making the drift there about four feet.  Great.  I went out a little later and started from the back of the house where the drifts were nearly three feet and shoveled out the gangway.  It was actually quite pretty and I hated to disrupt the artwork created by the wind, but it had to be done.  The boys hollered at me to come in for coffee when I was finished.  I did and we took a break.  A break which included me showing the two of them how to use their sewing machine.  Twenty-something straight boys who sew.  Well, you have to figure one's a chef and the other a musician.  Creative types who smoke pot and aren't afraid to admit they sew.  Nice.

Finally, boy neighbor two and his girlfriend bundled up in snow gear and we all went back out to finish the job.  Bot Two took the incredibly deep gangway and stairs and us two gals took turns on another shovel.  Sooner or later I decide to take a look at the streets.  Imagine a drift down the middle that's about 18 inches...no doubt three young girls wanted to hit the home store by me and instead of taking the cleared main streets decided they would take a shortcut, which got them stuck about 50 feet into their journey.  I rallied the other two and we brought our shovels.  After a lot of team work from neighbors and the school caretaker in his little John Deere with shovel attached to the front, we finally managed to get them out.  We'd been out for three hours.  Time. To. Go. Home.

Not so fast.  Someone else needs help and as we start to dig them out, a guy comes up and asks if we need an extra shovel.  Yes!  His name is Aaron a 20-something who lives up the street.  Nice guy and a huge help.  Seems Boys One and Two took a shine to the kid and they were already talking about getting together to hang out and do some weed.  Naturally!

It's amazing how we forget everyday that we, as people, are more alike than we are different.  It's only in times like these, or tragedy - when we share an instant common bond - that we actually reach out to help one another.  I wonder how many of us bother to check on our neighbors at times like this?

We walk back to our house and if shoveling isn't exercise, walking through the snow alone will get the heart pumping.  Chicago is flat but at this moment it has its own set of hills and valleys.  Almost like hiking in sand.  The kind of sand that fails to support your weight and often surprises you as a foot sinks, sometimes two feet, to the bottom - a combination of walking through shallow water and walking up a midget-sized "quick" sand dune over and over again.  It's quite the workout. The exhaustion hits me and I skip the invitation from Boys One and Two to come in for cider with brandy, although incredibly tempting.  Once inside I peel off my wet clothes pulled on the warmest, thickest flannel pants ever made, two shirts and a sweater, wool socks and snuggle under my down comforter in front of the TV for a DVR marathon.  I didn't even have the energy for a hot bath, which I should have taken to relief the muscle pain I would feel the next day.  I was so exhausted I fell asleep.

When I woke up this morning, it was if my body aged by 40 years.  The back, butt and shoulders we sore.  It's as if someone had placed thick, tight rubber bands throughout my torso to keep me from twisting and bending.  It took a good 10 minutes to even get out of my very warm bed.  Once vertical I tried to do some stretching to loosen things up.  No luck.  Into the hot shower.  It was helpful but I could still feel the tightness as I stand, balanced on one foot to pull on my faux Uggs.  I do this all of the time and I couldn't seem to get any muscle to work.  I try again and finally give up, moving to the chair to sit.  Even then pulling my leg up and into my chest was an impossible feat.

Despite the feeling that I'd rather go back to my cozy bed on this barely 5 degree morning, I was quite excited.  You're thinking "date night" but that isn't actually it. Today, I interviewed interns to help with some of my business tasks that simply just take too much time.  I'd like to grow and focus on cultivating new business, but there's just too much on my plate.  If you can't afford to hire someone then grow your business on the backs of interns.  Two of three are going to be great and I'm excited for them to start next week.  The third, while working on a masters degree, doesn't have any experience in my particular field of marketing, and, unfortunately, I just don't have the time to teach her.  I want people with some experience who want to grow that experience.  While helping me, I can help them develop the skills they need to prepare them for a paying job, to help them stand out - but secretly I really hope they all stay for the rest of their lives.  Hey, if they help me grow my business then I just might be able to pay them.  

As far as tonight with Steven goes, the self-sabotage has started.  I've already named every reason why it won't work out with him.  Being aware is the first step to changing the behavior, and I am....trying.  I'm just plain scared.  It's ironic, really, because this is something I really want in my life. In fear, I put the brakes on.  I'm kind of like a guy who needs to step back, internalize things and then revisit the problem with a solution.

When I think about moving forward with him I get a knot in my stomach that requires a few glasses of wine.  Is it self-sabotage or my intuition speaking?  I can't tell.  I start questioning whether I will hurt him in the end, but then I remember that love is a gamble.  There's a real chance that someone can and will always get hurt.  I really don't want to rush into anything with him and I've begun to pull away a small bit.  I wait longer to respond to his text messages and I'm keeping myself very focused on me and the business. Cuz let's face it, once he finds out my reality he may just change his perception of me and walk away.  Any man might.  So, I need to stay focused on improving my reality and it starts with me.

I suppose it doesn't help that the dating service called and wants me to come in next Tuesday before setting me up with someone.  The curiosity...I know!  Shut up! It's hard when this has been you're love life for 10 years.  Someone is always coming and going and I'm always forced to look ahead to something else.

Kisses aren't contracts.  Kisses aren't contracts.....Let go of the guilt, E!

Details tomorrow....stay warm, everybody!

xoxo

A Snowy Night

Tonight I spent the evening with a good gay bf - Ben*.  I picked a place just off the "El" for us to meet.  A straight bar with 50% off the entire menu.  He is, in some ways, like my brother.  I've always had a special feeling for him.  He's just a special, kind-hearted, thoughtful guy.  This is the first time we've actually said we were going to get together and made it happen.  Although there was an impending blizzard we still made it happen.  And of course, with the blizzard everyone goes immediately home, so the place was dead.  We ordered a buffet of Korean tacos, tempura shrimp (which wasn't actually tempura but fried - still yummy), tomato bisuq soup (eh, it was so-so) and some cocktails.  It was so dead that the cook brought us a complimentary dish of bacon-wrapped dates in a vodka sauce that was to dah fer!

Ben is the kind of person who is the voice of reason.  He's the one you can talk about anything to and he totally gets it.  He's self-aware, and aware of the world around him, and tries to live a life that makes a difference, as most of us do or aspire to do.  Ben is my sounding board.  Someone I trust deeply and I know will never judge me but ask questions that provoke my thought (yes, I know he's reading this!).  So, it was an awesome evening of sharing, asking and telling. Ben is the kind of guy who, when you're leaving says "You know, I'm going to tip the waiter/bartender more because it was half off night."  For me, who worked her way through college as a waitress and bartender, I feel terrible I didn't think of it.  But Ben did. And to top it off, he walked me the few blocks to the bus stop, across from the "El" cuz he's a gentleman like that.

Tonight feels like December or the beginning of January.  This storm is late, in a our terms.  However, it feels like Old Man Winter is saying You haven't seen the last of me and this is my last chance.   Indeed, we're never sorry to see him go, but if it weren't for the winter, summer just wouldn't be so great in Chicago.  People around the world wouldn't talk about how amazing this city is in the summer.  While we rarely let bad weather keep us down, summer is when we are all at our best.  We'd take it for granted, like they do in the South and Southwest.  People wouldn't live every day to the fullest, caring less about sleep and more about being out, about and present in the warmth still radiating from the city sidewalks.  No, it just wouldn't be the same.

As we walked down the street, we are bombarded with small snow bits (not even big enough to be flakes) that dance in the wind and chill our faces.  Both of us covered from head to tail in winter gear and snow.  As always, I give him a kiss on the cheek and we agree to do this again....soon.  two and half hours and we still didn't cover everything.

Once off the bus, I begin the trek down my block.  I've written about it before, but tonight it actually happened - one of the things I love about the city - a snow covered street.  I wish I could take a picture so you could see it in it's beauty.  The block is silent and I have a spiritual moment (shutup! it is!).  It's spiritual because of its beauty - pure - and no matter how many times I experience it, I'm still filled with wonder at it.  I do not take it for granted.  The sounds of nearby city vehicles muted.  It's as if a blanket has been laid down over everything quashing the sounds of the city.  The street lights bounce off the snow and it's suddenly brighter, not to mention a wee bit safer.  The snow continues to blow into my face and only momentarily blocked by a house or four.  I. Feel. So. ALIVE.  I slow my pace, knowing it's just a few blocks to my house and I want to enjoy it; savor this feeling.  It's a high.  I want to enjoy it because I'm blessed to have a warm coat, hat and gloves on.  I want to enjoy it because I have a warm, dry house awaiting me.  I am blessed.  If there's ever a time to realize what you have, it's now.  I can only imagine what it would be like to be out there now, waiting for the several inches to fall into place, and no where to go.  No warm home.  Only a crowded shelter.  (Now, those of you who know me, know that I've worked with the homeless for 20 years.  There are those who choose, those who don't and those who don't know the difference.  I reflect and pray for the latter two.)  And, I'm super blessed to have no where to go but my home office and out to shovel in the morning (my back!  hahaha).

Even now, as I write, my face continues to sing from the chill and life that was soft burned into it walking.  I already have a rosy color - thanks to my heritage, and one I've spent a lifetime trying to cover.  It's only been recently that I've embraced my naturally rouged hue and now feel the life within those cheeks.  You just don't get this same feeling when you go from garage to car to parking lot to building.  You just don't. You can only feel it when you spend real time outside, walking, playing with the dog or kids.  You have to enjoy it.  It's not a burden but a reminder that while the sun makes us feel alive with its warmth, that the snow, it's beauty and chill, can do the same.

To those of you in the path of the storm, be safe, stay in and go out when you must.  You know who you are.

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

I Love Marshall's

So the shopping turned out fruitful.  Gotta say, I love a little shopping therapy.  It took two hours. I was concerned because my body image is so-so at the moment, and while I'm still not thrilled with the vision in the mirror, I did end up getting two pairs of skinny jeans, Tommy Hilfiger and DKNY (in two DIFFERENT sizes - 1 up and 2 up ugh - go figure) for a total of $45 at Marshall's, and I FINALLY found a pair of flat brown boots for $40 at one of my secret shopping destinations, which will remain unnamed for the sake of it's secrecy.  Hey! If I tell you, everyone will be going there. 

I've decided on my outfit:  Tommy Hilfiger jeans, white short-sleeve v-neck T, Grey knit, open front cardigan with elbow-length sleeves, a long beaded necklace with greens and yellows (however worn with just about anything, different colors come out) and brown wedge open-toed shoes.  Hair: I'm going aux natural letting it air dry in that beachy wave that I've come to love.  I know, it's winter and there is still some snow on the ground but I'm growing tired of boots all the TIME!  It's casual for a home-cooked meal, but still fashionably sassy, and I love to be fashionable.

Fashion to me is an extension of who I am - creative, bold, outgoing - and I never fail to look in the closet and create a completely new outfit I've never worn before (made easier now that I have jeans).  People perceive you based on your fashion.  Someone who wears a suit that's too big with shoulder pads the size of Rockies, is seen as out of date, not current, and people, more than likely, won't do business with them unless they're looking for someone who isn't flashy, then they'll believe they're trustworthy because they're boring.  Not me, never been boring.  Never. And don't plan to start any time soon.  I always try very hard to mix classics with classic trendy stuff...the stuff that's hot right now but actually won't ever go out of style.  It's a carefully calculated balance.  

It's almost 1:30 and I have not heard from Steven about time (of which I assume he's picking me up)....but preparing for 6p just in case.  Hell, maybe I should plan earlier.  Mr. Spontaneous could show up any moment!  Here. We. Go.....Just hoping he's not thinking "third date is sex date".  Not happening.  I'm enjoying taking it slow.  I don't want to rush anything but enjoy the process of dating.  You only get so many first times...

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

Dating News Flash I

After several conversations with friends, I am reaffirmed about the oddity of Steven's desire to play 20 questions with me rather than just be straight about what he does.  And, it's not really about what he does for a living, it's about honesty.  As the BFF said "I don't care what your job is for a living.  You can bag groceries, but own it and be proud of it."  Aaaaaa-greed!

Nonetheless, I am giving him the benefit of the doubt (including assuming the fact that he paid our bill, although I just feel strongly it didn't happen) and have set a date for dinner on Thursday night.

In the meantime, I've talked to two other guys I met online.  John...the conversation was painful.  He was about as exciting as a wet rag.  I think I spoke a total of three minutes on a half hour call.  I finally told him my Mom was calling on the other line and had to go (I'm sure my Mom won't mind that I used her as an excuse!)

Rich...we've been emailing online for some time.  He is actually one of the first guys I met on the site.  Seemed a little cocky...yeah, he's one of those guys who put up a photo with no shirt on. Typically I would just scoff at him and move on to the next, but in the interest of trying not to judge people without knowing them, I read his profile and his justification made sense -

"You may laugh at me because I put up a picture without a shirt, but I'm doing this to prove that I am who I say I am."

Okay, fine, cuz I can tell you how many people I've met in person and thought "that picture on your profile is about 15 years old.  You said you were 35 not 55, weren't balding and 80 pounds overweight."  Again - be who you are.  Own who you are or change it.  Plus, he's attractive and the rest of his profile seemed honest and sincere.  After the conversation with John, which about put me to sleep, I called Rich and we had a great convo for over an hour.  If he appears cocky on his profile, I definitely didn't get that vibe speaking to him.  He just sounded like a good dude.  I eventually admitted it was my bed time (I don't like games, but you have to play a little.  In this case, I always try to get off the phone first), and hoped we could catch up again by phone or in person.  "In person would be great."  "Awesome, I'm available this week, so why don't you figure something out and let me know." (Again, I always make them plan the date - hey, they can do some work to impress me!)

Yesterday I returned the call from the local dating agency and told Annie* that the timing was perfect and I am available.  "Great. We'll determine if you're a match for this person and then get back to you.  In the meantime, you might want to come back in for a face-to-face since it's been a couple of years."  "Of course! let me know when."

I have to admit something: I often feel bad dating someone I know is interested in me and then dating other people.  It's like I'm cheating or doing something behind their backs, when I know that this simply isn't true until sex and mutual monogamy is confirmed.  It's weird, I KNOW, and I have no answer as to why I feel this way other than the fact that I have been cheated on quite a bit in past relationships.  It's the reason that I probably do two things:
1. Ensures that I won't cheat.  Ironically, I have NEVER cheated, but no one needs to feel the hurt I have. I think it's less about cheating and more about hurting someone.
2. More than likely is the main culprit in my meeting men, having a great time and then rushing to see what else is out there before settling down with that person.  I want to make sure that I won't be more attracted to someone else, which is complete bullshit because I am the one who once wrote a column on men looking over my shoulder for greener grass and yet here I am.

In reality, I probably do this because:
A. If it's not going to work out I'd rather cut if off at the pass than let it go further and hurt someone more.  I will not lie...I have hurt someone in my past.  I was careless and disrespectful to him.  Why? Because, if you believe it or not, I actually believed that men did not have feelings.  Yep.  Thanks, Dad.  A mutual friend called and said that the bf was really hurt and crying nonstop.  I never knew what to do about that so I let him go because I figured "why would he take me back?"  I still feel guilt over this, the first realization that men aren't so different.
B. Protection mechanism! Scared to take the leap.  My mind suddenly races to marriage and my fear of making the wrong choice, much like I fear my Mother might have done because she was expected to get married.  After her engagement to someone she was crazy about was broken, by the guy, she picked the first handsome, eccentric, non-affectionate but hard-working man who fell for her.  He was from a lower class and my grandparents never really approved of him.  But hey, if she hadn't gone for him then I wouldn't be here, and we all know you couldn't live without me!  HA!

As I told the BFF yesterday, I am really proud of my recent realizations (epiphanies) towards relationships and dating, but there is clearly more work to be done and I'm hoping that getting out and dating will help me conquer in "real time", so to speak.  It's good to be aware of where you are and know what hills you need to get over.  There's no point in not being aware and then dragging others through your black suitcase full of bullshit!

xoxo