Things Are Getting Better

The fog is finally beginning to lift.

I’ve had a few friends talk to me; help me not internalize this situation quite so much.

I just don’t understand why I want someone that doesn’t want me? That’s just crazy, I cause myself more pain than is necessary… I feel like a masochist sometimes.

But in my last communication with him, he said something that really hurt me… maybe I didn’t know him as well as I thought, he obviously didn’t care about me.  Maybe I was just trying to make the relationship in to what I wanted it to be, but something that it could never be.

I do KNOW this; he liked it when he was with me. 

Did that scare him? 

Was I fun but just not loveable?  

Perhaps I will never know and I just have to accept that.

I was as good as I knew how to be, I did nothing to hurt him, just like I promised that I wouldn’t, and he was the one who hurt me… if that wasn’t good enough, there’s not much I can do about it. 

I was me, and I’m not for everyone.

Does it still sting?? Fuck yes it does.

Do I still feel shitty about myself?? Fuck yes I do.

Do I wonder if I’ll ever be good enough? Every moment of every day.

But a friend said this to me “You are sexy, it is your superpower, use it for good.”

I can’t say that I concur, but it felt good to hear it, from someone that didn’t have to say anything.

I’ve been asked out a few times, I haven’t accepted yet… but I am taking a road trip to Jersey with a friend next week… kind of an up and back thing, but it will be good just to get away… and I love a road trip J.

Half a smile is better than none, right???

Wandering Through the Black Fog

I participated in a wedding Friday evening… the only people present were; the couple, my friend Boom who was the minister and myself.  According to the couple, NO ONE knew they were getting married.  Interesting.  I wondered whose parents were not okay with it.

And, they totally poo-pooed getting wedding presents.  The ONLY reason I’d marry again would be for wedding presents… I REALLY need some new towels.

I acted as both the photographer and the witness at the wedding, and the minister-in-training.

After the wedding, I went home, went to bed and stayed there for >36hrs.

I told everyone that it was my allergies… but it wasn’t.

Sometimes the black fog swallows me whole, dragging me into a pit so deep that I wonder if this will be the time that I’m not able to pull myself out.

 

That sounds really dramatic, doesn’t it?  But I can really think of no other words to describe it… and I own a super thesaurus.

I pulled my ass out of bed on Sunday morning because we were going zip lining for my Dad’s birthday and I had to make the long trek back home.  I took the camera and made a few stops on the way, which did make me feel a little better.  Here’s an example of what I captured (http://reflectionsuponmyreality2.wordpress.com/2013/09/23/the-porny-house/).

I did have a friend, a reader of this blog, tell me that I’m too hard on myself “you have so much to offer – guy needs his head examined.”

I want to believe that sooooooo badly, that it’s not me, that I’m wanted, desirable, needed.  Yet, the loneliness overshadows the possibility of those beliefs.  I am the common denominator here… only me.

I know, I hear the tiny violins playing too…

Accenting the Obvious

Accents…

Admit it, you either like them or you hate them.

Most people begin to immediately make assumptions about a person as soon as they hear a voice that doesn’t sound like their own.

Whether the assumptions carry any weight or not, that’s just how our minds seem to work.

You know that when you hear a southern, a New York, a Boston, a British, an Indian accent you already think that you know something about the person.  A little slow perhaps? Snooty? Sophisticated?

I’ll admit I’ve been a little swayed by a lovely accent before; I’ve dated Irish, British and Italian men.  But underneath the soliloquy, they’re just dudes.  We all know that there are assholes in every nationality.

These makes me think of a guy I once met on a dating site.  We started out texting, which is how I prefer things to go, then, late one night, he called me.

“Wow, you have an accent!”  Was his initial comment.

“Yea, I know, I’m not a Cincinnati native.”  I reply, thinking it will be the end of the discussion about my accent.  Which, by the way, isn’t a bad accent at all.  And the longer I live here, the slighter it becomes.

But… it went on and on…

“From looking at you, I’d never guess you had a country accent!”

Sheesh…

I may not look like a country girl, but, underneath all this ink… I am one.

I’ve always thought that I sounded like a hick and even as my accent becomes slighter, there are words that I know I’ll never be able to say “right”.  But that’s ok, that’s part of my charm.

Anyway, he kept going on and on about my accent, even trying to mimic it (or mock, I’m not sure).  I began to feel a little offended.  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have a chip on my shoulder, and I can accept some good natured teasing, but for fuck’s sake, he wouldn’t let it go.

I was sooooooo relieved when he got another call that he had to take.

Now, he could have been a perfectly nice guy who was a little nervous, not a good conversationalist or just a total dunce, I don’t know.

I have to put him in the same category as the guy who said I looked like a really cute cartoon character. 

Oh yea, before I forget to mention it, TrippyBeth is smitten.

I know, look out and batten down the hatches!!

I don’t know if it will go anywhere, not sure if he’s smitten or not, all I know, right now, is that I like spending time with him…

Oh, don't forget to check out my photo blog if you get the chance!!

http://reflectionsuponmyreality2.wordpress.com/

Sucking Deal Breakers

Deal Breakers…

Most people have them as they apply to different areas of their lives.  I was recounting some of my deal breakers, for dating, to J last evening. Over yummy sushi, pad thai and a thai basil martini.

You don’t read? Deal breaker..

You watch MMA?  Deal breaker..

You tongue rape my mouth when you kiss me? Deal breaker..

You bring your 3 children on our first date?  Deal breaker..

You’ve regrown your foreskin? Deal breaker..

Now, you might say that I am not giving these gentleman a fair chance, that I’m being petty…… but you have to look at it from my perspective…… my good years are rapidly slipping away from me, I just had another birthday as you recall.  I don’t have a lot of time to waste.

But I guess that all of my ghastly dates weren't a total loss, I am left with a few pretty spectacular stories.

TrippyBeth loves some stories.  I am still contemplating writing a book of dating horror stories, people love to hear them.  My dermatologist was so enthralled with the stories that he wanted me to promise him that I would call him after my next bad date.  At the time I had started seeing someone and told him that I hoped I wouldn’t have another one.

It turned out that the guy that I had started see, was married.  Fucking bastard.

So there were more bad dates to follow, however, I did not call my dermatologist.  That just seemed weird.

There was only one date (so far) where I got totally scheezed out……

It was a last minute thing, I had comedy club tickets that I had purchased months earlier from Groupon, then forgot about them (Groupon really should remind you when the things you’ve purchased are about to expire).  I remembered them about 2 days before they were due to expire.

I had been chatting with this fellow from the dating site.  So I thought “What the hell” and asked him if he wanted to go.

He said yes and that he had never been to a comedy club before.

We arranged to meet there, I don’t have anyone pick me up at my place for a first date.  And after meeting this guy, I really patted myself on the back for having this rule.

I walked across the spans between the steps from the parking garage to the area we had arranged to meet.  As soon as I got within about 10 feet of him, I got the heebie jeebies.  I had to suppress my instinct to bolt and go drown myself in the river.  But, alas, I had been spotted.

He walked up to me, his body language said that he was going to hug me… I stepped back and offered up my hand for a shake.

My brain kept yelling “GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!”

But, I had bought those tickets and goddammit, I was going to see that show!

I had him follow me and when we get into the club, they sit us at a table nearly in the front, warning us that someone else will sit at the table with us, as it was a sold out show.  He is seated across the table from me, not at what I’d call a comfortable distance, but a semi-safe one.

We order a bucket of beer (he had terrible taste in beer too), appetizers and sat there in awkward silence.  As we sat there he placed his elbows on the table, cocked his head to the side and stared at me.  I can’t even explain how uncomfortable that was.  In retrospect, I am not sure if he had torticollis or was truly that peculiar.

I am usually pretty good at making small talk, but my brain was in some bizarre survival mode, so no clever conversation was spewing from my mouth.  I just sat there drinking my Killian’s, eating potato skins and silently wishing either the show would start or a fire would break out.

Mercifully, the first comedian came out.  John Wayne Gacy’s chair was positioned so that his back was toward the stage, so he awkwardly turns his head, and his head only, to face the stage.  “I can’t sit like this” he says “it hurts my neck”.

I replied “You can turn your chair around, it’s fine.”

Unfortunately, no one had been seated at our table yet, and there was an empty chair RIGHT NEXT TO ME.  Guess what Ed Gein did?

You got it, got out of his perfectly fine seat and sat next to me.  A cold chill ran up my spine.

Within less than 5 minutes, another couple was seated at my table….. If only they had been 6 minutes earlier……story of my life.

As the comedians did their thing, I focused all of my attention on them, and my beer.

I texted my friend KR “I think he wants to wear my boobs for a hat.”

When the show ended, I was the first person out of my seat, throwing my coat on and grabbing my purse.  When I looked around, he was gone. WOOHOO, relief!

I start filing out of the club with the rest of the crowd.  When I near the door, who do I spot? That’s right, Hannibal Lecter. 

FUCK

He quickly falls into step beside me.

The headliner for this show was Christian Finnigan.  He had been on a local radio station that very morning, promising to give away free awkward hugs.  A TrippyBeth motto is “if it’s free, it’s for me” (actually stolen from my father).

Rounding a corner, we come up on his table, set up to sell t-shirts and cds.  I see that no one is being hugged.  I am undeterred.  I walk right up to his table and say “I am here to receive my FREE awkward hug.”

Mr.Finnigan laughed and said “Come on back here.” I handed my camera phone to Ted Bundy, instructing him to take a photo and proceeded to step behind the table.

I got the free awkward hug from Mr.Finnigan with a bonus side of dry humping. 

Then I retrieved my phone and began to briskly walk away, turning to thank Jeffrey Dahmer for joining me and lost myself in the crowd.

I don’t think I’ve said this yet, but DATING SUCKS!!

(I used the serial killer names, because for the life of me, I can’t remember that dude’s name)