I've Taken Myself Off the Market

That's right girls and boys, you heard me correctly.  I've taken myself off the market.  This is Part 1 of 2 on how it happened.

Saturday night - ice skating.  While I felt strongly that we needed to get out of the house (and away from trouble) I also really wanted to go ice skating.  I've lived in Chicago 13 years and never been.  That's just stupid!  I am not sure what I was thinking but I definitely didn't consider the fact there might be a line at the rink in Millennium Park.

When considering my outfit I was thinking more cute ski bunny than warmth.  I wore thick black winter leggings, a long pink tank top, black tee, black turtleneck sweater, brown down vest, scarf, hat, knee highs, thick socks and my galoshes, NOT my warm faux Uggs. I will pay for this decision and really should know so much better.  Sunset downtown happens at about 2:00pm as the tall buildings block the sun and the temperature drops dramatically.  Not to mention the fact we're near the lake and the breeze blows directly across the park to and then bounces off the buildings back on to the park.  Brrrrr.  That's not even the half of it!  Typically I always consider this fact but, nope, I wanted to be cute ski bunny not a bundled Michelin Man!  Steven, on the other hand, was warmly dressed in boots, ski pants, a sweatshirt, pullover, scarf and funky knit cap.

When we arrived at the skating rink there was, sure enough, a LINE!  We joined in and it was sssllllooowwww moving.  I started to shiver and Steven wrapped his arms around me - he's a furnace.  Hmmm....maybe I'm not regretting my thoughtlessness.  That's pretty much how we stayed the 30 minutes or so we were in line.  I will say this....it was fun and we just laughed.  We people watched and laughed, making up stories about the each person.  We laughed because he was just being silly.  He was always doing something funny and at times would blow his warm breath on my neck to warm me up.

I can feel the warmth inside the building from where I stood and was anxious to get in. We're. So. Close! Just as we get to the top of the line - they close the rink for the Zamboni and we're left standing for another 30 minutes.  We just started laughing in disbelief that this was our luck. He continued to hold me and block the wind.

FINALLY....they complete the ice surfacing and we are allowed inside the skate rental.  We give up our shoes, grab out skates and plunk down on a bench.  My feet were so cold that I had to rub them back to life before putting them in the boot of the skate, which was considerably warmer than my galoshes.  Not sure if that's because they had recently been worn, but I didn't care.  My toes were tingling with blood and life.  Laced up and smiling we were off the rink.

Now, let me just take this moment to explain that in initial conversations about ice skating, Steven said that he had skated and played hockey.  Then during the drive downtown he says he hasn't ever skated.  I totally busted him. "Which is it, liar?"  "Well, it's been a long time since I've skated."  "So, a more factual statement to cover your ass from already telling me you played hockey would be to say 'I have never ice skated in my adult life.'"  Laughing.  "Yeah, you got me." "Uh huh!"

Once on the rink, we both proceeded with caution.  Steven immediately grabbed my hand and led me around and around the rink until we both got our balance and got accustomed to the motion.  The skates' blades sucked with a capital "S".  The blades were so worn down that they looked more like a half-inch flat piece of steel than a "blade".  We continued going in circles and people were EVERYWHERE!  It was super crowded and there seemed to be bodies littering the rink every place you looked.  I couldn't take my eyes off the ice in front of me in case I failed to notice that there was a group of teenage girls down for the count in front of me and I went flying over them.  Fortunate for me, I had an expert who got his skating groove pretty quickly and was always on the look out to keep me out of trouble, or from causing a major pile up.

At one point we made the turn and this little boy took a tumble.  His father wasn't too stable on the skates and  Steven let go of my hand, made a quick, hard stop, turned around, stopped behind the little boy and picked him up, gently setting him back on his feet.  I just smiled to myself.  Moments later he found me ahead, came to my side, looked at me and reached his hand out.  Wow!  This is a really good dude!  And that wasn't the only person he helped out.

When he wasn't helping to stop potential national incidents between tourist foreign and domestic, he spent his time flirting with me.  As I became more confident, I let go of his hand and skated ahead.  He came up next to me "Hey baby, how are you?"  "Hi. I'm fine," I said slightly cold and ignoring him.  "So, you're one fine lady." "And you're one confident Italian.  Where do you guys learn this stuff?" "It's in our DNA, baby.  Whatcha doin' after this?" "Going home. Alone."  He laughs, comes in close, grabs my waist and whispers "I don't think so!" This kind of flirting went on.  I'd skate off and he'd come up again.  "Dude, you just can't take no for an answer!" "Not when you're so hot.  You're melting the ice."  I roll my eyes and laugh.

At one point, I skated ahead again, but this time I turned to look for him.  I couldn't see him and turned my focus back to making the turn.  I felt him near by and turned to look behind me once more and Steven smiled.  He then came in close and wrapped his arms around me, nuzzling his nose in my neck and saying something.  I don't remember what he said but I was smiling and loving it.  He let go, came to my side, we looked at each other, he looked down and as I did his hand was waiting for me.  I took it and looked back at him.  I am a fucking idiot!  This is pretty damn amazing.  How could I ever think there is something better out there for me than this.  That's when my decision was made.

After an hour or so, it was time to Zamboni the ice again and I was getting a bit tired.  It's quite a work out skating on shitty skates and negotiating through crowds of unstable skaters.  Plus, my right foot was starting to hurt a bit.  We immediately went inside to a warm waiting area next to the bathrooms.  I made my way out of the restroom and walked towards him, smiling.  He wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed me.  To Steven a public place isn't public so PDA isn't PDA.  It's like we're the only two people there.  "So, what are you doing tomorrow?"  "Well, I was going to go to a Super Bowl party but I'm thinking I may stick to home and get a bunch of stuff done. Why?" "Well.........I was wondering if you'd like to come to a Super Bowl party with me and meet my friends." Seriously?  I haven't told him I've made my choice yet and we haven't done anything intimate to consider the deal sealed.  This is awesome!  "Are you sure you're ready to introduce me to your friends?" He laughs, "Yes!" "Well, okay then."

After some debate, we decided to return our skates and head home.  I was STARVING!  Of course, it turns out that it was 80's night in Millennium Park and that's when all the fun started.  We watched some professional skaters and made sad faces that the fun music was now playing as we were leaving.  Oh well, I was STARVING!  "So, what do you want to do for dinner?" I ask.  "I don't know.  Do you have any thoughts?"  "Well, I was thinking maybe we hit the store and head back to mine.  I have homemade chili I can defrost and it sounds ssssoooo good on a night like this."  "Sounds good."

In the car, he turns the heat on high.  This is kind of a big deal for me as I'm always cold.  As far as Steven is concerned, he would as soon die of sweat than let me freeze.  (Okay, everyone say a collective "Aaaaaawwwww!")  His father calls as we're leaving downtown, "Hi, Dad.....Yeah, I love you too....No I'm not alone.  I've got this hot blonde with the biggest blue eyes sitting next to me.  We've just come from ice skating and heading for a warm dinner....No I'm not cooking."  I laugh out loud. "What?" he looks at me.  "Look you make fantastic reservations and pay and I'll do the cooking." We're both laughing. "Dad...did you hear that?  Yeah....I agree."  I can hear part of the conversation but not all of it and with that he gives me a smile.

After hitting a couple of stores I am starting to get the grouch on.  I. Am. STARVING!   In the stores he kept wanting to browse...."Dude!  I'm hungry.  Let's go!"  "Okay, okay!"  He drops me off with his eyes set on a parking spot that's been plowed in.  I can tell he's salivating at the chance to give it a go with his all-wheel drive love....aka his car.  I lug everything upstairs into my apartment and pull out two containers of turkey chili.  After uncovering them I stick them into the microwave to defrost.  I then race around to do some quick pick up, shoving shit in all kinds of closets (not much unlike our second date when he "invited" himself over). Then grab all the accouterments - cheese, sour cream - and set them on the table next to the wine and two glasses.  He comes in with a big smile revealing his accomplishment of drilling his car into the parking spot.  You're hilarious! 


We eat, watch some TV - Alaska State Troopers, to be exact - and some warm snuggling.  There was some making out and then.....to the bedroom.  You're usual turn of events occurred, but we didn't "seal the deal".   At one point, I stopped him, sat up and said "Just so you know, this means I've made my choice."  He grabs my face with both hands and kisses me.  At that point his shirt came off and GASP! That wasn't JUST back hair I was feeling through his shirt the other night.  It's a fucking SHAG RUG!  ARE YOU KIDDING ME???  It was everywhere and about an inch long.....EVERYWHERE.  Not to mention the Buddha was a little bigger than a little Buddha.  I just laughed to myself and gave him a hug.  In the past, I would have shut this guy down.  No way, no how!  I do NOT do back hair and major Buddha!  But for some reason, I just let it go as his kisses quickly made me realize it wasn't as important as it once was.  Well, these things can be changed.  Soon we fell asleep and his sleep apnea kicked in.  I reached to my bedside table and put in some ear plugs, and I slept really well for a few hours.  Well, until I realized he'd taken over the entire bed and I was left with a 12-inch wide space on the edge.  I waited until I heard him snore and got out of bed like a cat - smoothly, quickly and quietly - grabbed a robe and headed to the couch.  A few hours later, he came out.  "Hey," he whispers.  "Hey."  "Did my snoring keep you awake?"  "No the earplugs were great. You were inching me out of bed, you big HOG!"  Laugh.  "Come back to bed now."

We crawled back in and began talking.  He asked me about my past relationships and I breezed over everyone - who matters - including the abuser.  He didn't seem to flinch, probably because of the fact that I can talk about it today matter of factly and without feeling.  I asked him about his and found out he broke up with his last girlfriend in October.  Since then he'd been on the dating site where he learned that most women were interested in little more than a "free night out".  Aha!  This makes sense now.  On our first date he didn't believe that I was really seriously about going out with him again.  

"Let's go get breakfast." "Uhm, okay."  "I think we should go get Dim Sum in Chinatown." Another thing I've been dying to do and not got around to it. "That sounds great!  Something I've always wanted to do."  "Okay, let me call my friend and get the name and address."  He starts to dial, "Uhm, Steve, it's like 7:30 in the morning." "Oh, yeah, he'll be up.....He dude, it's Steve.  So I'm in bed with this gorgeous woman and want to take her to Dim Sum.  Call me back with the name and address of the place we used to go to."  I laugh.  "I can't believe you just said that to him."  He laughs. "It's no biggie.  He'd do the same to me."  A few minutes later his friend calls and I hear the first part of the conversation: "Hey, thanks for calling me back."  "First of all, you're AN IDIOT!  You don't call ANYONE when you're in bed with a beautiful woman!" Steven laughs, "Yeah, well I want the restaurant info......uhuh....where's that at.....okay, great.  Thanks.....He says it doesn't open until 10a and the best time to go is between 11:45 and 1:00p."  "No way, I'm STARVING!" "You're always starving." "It's because it takes so much energy to deal with you!"  We both laugh.  "Okay, then plan B.  The Original Pancake House downtown."  "I've never been there."  "Gggiiirrrlll, you're missing out."  So that's what we did.

I was grabbing my bag and Steven was putting on his boots when I checked my phone.  Ben had sent me a text around 10:30 the night before (when I was otherwise occupied).  "Dear friends it is with great sadness to say that Chuck passed away this evening..." "Oh my God! Oh my God!"  "What?"  "My friend Chuck passed away."  I look up at Steven, back down at the phone, and then to Steven again.  Within an instant I just burst into tears.  "Oh my gosh!" I turn away and go into the bathroom I am not going to cry in front of this man I just met.  No!  But I do.  I come take a deep breath, wipe my eyes, blow my nose and return to the kitchen. Steven is standing in the doorway and quickly embraces me.  "Okay, let's go."  I think this might have surprised Steven, but I'm a strong hold when it comes to crying.  I just have a hard time doing it in front of boyfriends.

We had a nice time at breakfast though I was quiet.  He dropped me off and said he'd be back at 4:30p to pick me up for the Super Bowl party.  I came in the house, closed the door and had a small sob fest.  I then  laid down, napping for almost two hours.  When I awoke I returned calls and then sobbed until I had nothing left.

Part 2: Super Bowl Party report tomorrow...

xoxo

Ham in My Pants

Well, no surprise.  Somehow those 10 L.B.S. I was supposed to concentrate on losing over the summer turned in to 10 L.B.S. EARNED!  Really, it's my fault.  I wasn't motivated or just a little lazy this year.  (Trust me, if you need an excuse to not work out I've got about 1000 of them).  So, with one of my best friend's wedding encroaching in just a mere few days, I decided it was time to do something.  Nothing like waiting until the last possible hour of desperation to drop some weight. 

I recently purchased a pair of those Champion Stride 'n Tones from one of my secret places to buy shoes.  No, don't ask me where.  I won't tell you.  If I told you it WOULDN'T be a SECRET, now would it?  Bribe me all you want...well, depends on how good the bribe is...but...I digress.  I got the shoes for a steal, really a steal, because who wants to spend $75+ on a pair of shoes that may or may not give me the rockin' ass and legs I see on the TV model, who clearly hasn't worked to be fit her entire life.  Seriously, a trial is needed before serious investment.

Monday I took them for a stroll.  I was kind of stressed (don't act surprised) and decided to close up biz at 4:30 and go for a four+ mile walk to the lakefront, down and back.  At first I thought that two hams were fighting for possession of my ass with each step.  Then I realized, sigh, that it was really the fact that I had a full ham attached to each ass cheek and they bumped up and down as I walked - it's even worse when you're a fast walker like myself.  Still, I kept the faith that these shoes would indeed do what the marketing ploy says they will (Damn marketers!  Wait that's me)  So, I turned up the mp3 and just kept going hoping that no one would catch site of the delicatessen I was packing in my pants.  If only they were spiral hams and just fell apart as I walked....yeah, this is what I was thinking as I walked.

Believe it or not, after a while I started to feel the muscles in my quads and butt tighten a bit.  Even think my sad pathetic excuse for a core was positively effected as well.  I also noticed that the hams on my ass felt tighter as well - less flagrant bouncing up and down and more like they'd finally managed to be tamed.  OMG, my shoes are the ASS WHISPERER!

Since then I've attempted to make sure they're on my feet at all times, sans professional meetings downtown.  Slip on, slip off.  While like all things in life, there is no magic bullet to getting in shape, it takes, ugh, work, I am feeling rather good about my odds in the next couple of months.  If I don't take this off it's going to suddenly double over the winter months when all you can do in Chicago is eat and watch movies.  Baby, it's cold outside!

Maybe the BFF is right.  I should have just Lip Slutted my way to the flu and not eaten for a week!

xo

Perspective: I Am Truly Blessed

After a cold shower this morning I called the gas company to see what was going on with the hot water heater, as I cook breakfast just fine.  They said they'd send someone out.  And she arrived in a jiffy.  Impressive for the gas company!  I never got her name, but she gave me a dose of perspective that I needed, and you do too, probably.  She reminded me how truly blessed I am and that a woman is strong enough to do it all on her own.


My dad is a talker and I don't mean he just likes to talk, he will trap you, if you're not careful, unless you can come up with a creative way to depart without hurting his feelings.  This morning, Gas Gal, well, I think she just needed someone to listen.  So, after my near death experience with Angry Smelly Homeless Man, I felt God was reminding me....

Gas Gal hasn't had an easy life in her 60+ years (yes, she spilled her entire story to me).  She isn't a pretty woman but I could see in her powder blue eyes the years of hard work, suffering and yet, still, hope. 

After cheating on her, for what she thinks was years, her husband left her with a four and eight year old.  This was nearly 30 years ago, because she mentioned her daughter is now 37.  Her douche bag husband canceled insurance for her and her children and she came to work for the gas company - hey, utilities pay well and have great bennies plus pension (although State of Illinois owes millions and millions to people).  Smart gal - she raised her children on her own, one with autism and now in assisted living, and later met a man who would be her boyfriend for 21 years.  He passed away four years ago.

Since his passing she was rear-ended in a car accident leaving her with a back injury.  The gas company put her on painting duties - meaning she paints gas meters, and such.  Turns out Gas Gal was allergic to the fumes but after several months of exposure  the damage was done and she now suffers from a major respiratory problem.  The steroids leave her bloated and she was no doubt winded climbing to my attic to look at the water heater.  If that wasn't enough, the poor gal had four, count them FOUR abscessed teeth in the next year (I've had ONE and that was enough for me), leaving her with a few holes in her sweet smile.  Still, she laughed through the recount of her personal trials.  It was a cacophony of tragedy.  Every time I felt it couldn't get worse, it did. 

By the time we were in the attic, she announced that she has nine cats - six she found on the streets while working for the gas company and three she's been helping care for since a friend had to move in with her mother and the landlord won't allow them to stay.  She's had them for two years.  So, of course, because of Meow Mix we bonded.  As she slowly bent to her knees on the floor to look at the water heater, she starts talking about Dewey Readmore Books - the famous Iowa library cat for which their is a need-a-box-of-kleenex-to-read-book about.  It's fabulous.  Trust me.  Sniffle, sniffle (thanks to my cat-loving friend and namesake of Meow Mix*).

At that point, Gas Gal just started talking, and talking and talking.

As we made our way back down from the attic, I was somewhat annoyed and thinking I have so much to do today, and then I sensed that she just needed someone to listen.  I praised her for being such a strong woman, for taking a man's job, earning her way, fighting for equal pay, working hard and taking care of her children.  She told me her daughter married a buffoon but had his baby, anyway, at 37 and that there's more than enough years and opportunity for me (love her!).  Apparently this buffoon, aka beloved douche bag, with a British accent (how many times have woman been swayed by less?) had a criminal record for which he never told his wife and mother of his child.  He's apparently stuck in England because Canada rejected his visa after learning of drugs and the small incident of chasing his sister out a window while high as a kite and, after dangling for a moment by her legs, left her to fall two stories below.  Gas Gal, of course, took her in for convalescence.  Douche bag then threatened Gas Gal with her life if his sister wasn't returned to his family.  Wow!

From there it was an ever flowing cascade of children, grandchildren, great nieces and nephews, and cats, for which Gas Gal recounted each place she found them, their names (courtesy of her autistic, but brilliant son who managed to come up with first and middle names that roll off your tongue with a smooth perfection; like a song) and how she nursed them all back to health.  Her loss and hopes for retirement.  Fear of moving and having to release some of her beloved cats to rescue organizations and somberness thinking about her many trials. 

At one point, as she told me that she lost her boyfriend of over two decades four years ago, I felt tears and emotion rising in her.  She told me that she's been lost in mourning and a little depressed since the loss.  Oh, how I related to her in feeling lost!  Mine seems quite trivial after meeting Gas Gal.  Those who know me know that I was compelled to give her a hug, but I didn't.  Instead I told her that good things and many more blessings would be on their way, and that she is in my prayers.  I felt bad inching away from her to end the conversation, so I did and then stayed and listened a little bit longer to her story. What I heard was a woman, whose life has been full of so many, unexpected tragedies, find joy and happiness in her children, family and cats (like children).  We all have to find those things, those reasons to pull through.

Finally, she wished me well and apologized for taking up my time.  I said "You're not taking up any one's time.  It's been such a pleasure to meet you.  Have a wonderful day and enjoy this beautiful weather!"  With that, we parted.  I back into my apartment (which I now know has a load of violations against it!  Another reason to leave), and she into her gas van.

As a journalist, and a wear-my-heart-on-my-sleeve-kind-of-gal, I've long believed that every single person alive or passed has a story.  One that will make you laugh; one to make you get up and sing; one that will make you pause and think; one that will cause you take action and one that will break your heart.  No matter the story they are all interesting and important.  They are our stories and lives, and they are all valuable.

So, Gas Gal, I saw you today.  I heard you and your story today and I will pray that you receive all the blessings that God, the universe, whatever you want to call it, so rightly wants to bring to you.  For me, you reminded me that my compassion isn't maybe as compassionate as I'd like to think.  That I, too, am guilty of not wanting to be bothered by anything that doesn't effect me directly or take the time to really hear someone.  You've reminded me that aside of my personal struggles and worries, that my life is all too blessed.  That the little things are what matter, next to family, and that through it all we have to keep on truckin' through life to get to that place of peace and grace of which we're being led. 

More importantly, you reminded me that it's important that we all take a moment to stop, look and listen to someone.  My father always says that one smile, one hello can change the outcome of someone's day.  Go do it, be it, and pass it on.

xo

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.