iPod

The worst thing following a break-up is music. You hear a song that makes you think of them. You hear a sad, depressing song and want to gouge your eyes out. And the fine folks at Apple have added to our misery. Yep, 80 GB of songs to torment yourself with. I had put the iPod in a drawer and shut it. Most of the music were downloads from Paul and I really didn't need that right then.

If you believe in God (or gods or whatever) I must say they have a twisted sense of humor. I don't remember exactly when it was but I was on the phone with Rick. The topic of mp3 players came up. He thought it would be a great thing for me to listen to while I worked but was surprised to hear I had already bought one. For those who don't know: I'm technolocically impaired. If it's an electronic gadget I have an IQ of 75 or so. I had been influenced by someone who has not one but two of these crazy things.

Anyways, I'm on the phone with Rick. And in his quest to see something of the "hidden me" he harmlessly asks what the top 10 played songs are on my iPod. I stutter and stammer and try to avoid the question at all costs. He has no clue what is causing my distress. Is the playlist a federal secret? No, it's not and I'm not sure what the song will be but I'm afraid to look. I waffle, vacillate and eventually he gives up this line of questioning. I should have just said something by the Scorpions or some other 80's hairband. My not answering raised suspicion.

And I didn't look for several months. and then the query popped into my head. I had an idea of what the most played song was. It was sent to me in a link one night along with the lyrics. It was the epitome of a romantic gesture. The first time I heard it I cried.

It was also a big neon flashing sign.

The most played song? Question by The Old 97's.

And for those of you who don't know:

Some day somebody's gonna ask you
a question that you should say yes to
once in your life

Aftermath

So there I am. And the one person I really want to talk to most is Rick. But this is a break-up where I haven't checked my self esteem at the door. I've been set down on my feet this time.

In the next few days I realize that this, if you believe in karma, is my payback. A few months ago I squashed someone's telling me and now I've been squashed. I call Rick to apologize and my calls go unreturned.

I lean on my friends and try to stay busy. Waste countless hours on the internet. I'm not sure what I'm more sorry about; what I had done or what had happened to me. But I realize that in the end I am okay.

Excessive iron in your diet can cause a medical condition call hemochromatosis. Excessive irony in your life is just a pain in the ass.

Some things just don't work out

Almost everything in my life has some sort of foreshadowing. I never see it until later. sometimes I have to be told twice. This is another one of those fine instances.

Paul and I make it to around the 5 month mark. Which is pretty much par for me. I'm not totally sure what happens; although I have an inkling. I think this is the point at which I either decide to go all in or decide to cash out my chips and go home. I think you pretty much know how its going to go at this point in most relationships. However on this particular day I had no clue.

Paul was stressing and I was feeling like there should be something I could "fix". But try as I might he was pretty resistant to any and all of my attempts. I was a fish out of water as they say. Late in the night, desperate to make things "better," I did something pretty uncharacteristic of me. I said the three word phrase.

As soon as I said it I strangely felt much better. For about 10 seconds. Paul did not respond with anything near the response one would hope for. In fact he said it worried him. It would be a long drawn out conversation, lasting well into the morning. He didn't have the time, energy or desire to be serious about any relationship right now. And wouldn't for more than two years. And I couldn't wait around for two years.

There really was nothing I could do or say. Some things just don't work out.

Someone to fix me

Well I've been chewing over how to best tell this portion for a few days. I can't think of how best to explain it. This could be because this is one of the few cases of someone fixing me (rather than the reverse). It's subtle and it snuck up on me.

Paul and I start talking after the Alan debacle. After drinks with Rick, and the subsequent sleepover, Rick does his usual disappearing act. Paul and rick are so not alike it's nearly funny. Paul has high ideals for the relationship and lays out clear ground rules before we meet in person. He not looking for a casual fling and it's unacceptable for me to date other people while seeing him-even though due to distance and circumstances its clear we won't be able to get together very often by my standards.

When we finally do meet in person I'm torn. But only for the first five minutes. He's not really my type looks wise and he's dressed in a style so much younger than mine I fear the people around us think I'm his mother. But after the first five minutes everything just clicks. Life is good.

Our second date turns into some sort of dating marathon. And I have him over to my house. Which is strictly forbidden-usually having people over to my place freaks me out-especially people that I don't know very well. It's going well, for once I'm getting to know someone before they see me naked.

On the third date we are at his place. Somehow the topic gets onto old relationships. Specifically mine, which we all know don't always go so well. "Every relationship I've ever been in was a failure." I say actually quoting Rick. When Rick and I first dated I was feeling bad about my six month marriage failing and these were his words of consolation. Like I said-not romantic- but the thought was there. Anyways this declarations stops Paul dead in his tracks. He turns and looks at me," That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. And if that's really the way you think then NO relationship is ever going to work for you and I don't even know why you're here."

Reality check please.

He then explains that my attitude is predetermining the outcome. That nearly every relationship teaches you something, makes you smarter or improves you choosing skills for the next relationship.

And that if you tried your best in a relationship and really gave it your all; that even if things didn't work out you shouldn't consider it to be a failure of yours. Somethings just don't work out.

Fixer uppers

I'm standing in the middle of my friend Dave's kitchen.

Dave is technically a client but not really. He stays home to talk to me while I clean his place; I'm not sure if I should charge him extra for voyeurism or not charge him at all in exchange for the amateur psychiatry.

So I'm standing in the kitchen and we're pondering my dating status. "Well, what are your prospects?"

"Really none," I answer. " There are a few strays from the last go around but nothing that looks super attractive. Maybe one I could recycle."

"Recycle? Who?"

"Well Rick, but I'm not to sure about that."

"Why not?"

"We've been talking some so I think he might be interested. But I have a bad feeling." Insert Dave's raised eyebrow here. "Well I've told him about all of the crap that been going on lately with my parents, and the car, and health insurance and work and everything and he's really been a great listener. But I kind of feel like he just wants to "fix" me. And I'm not real comfortable with that idea. I'm a grown woman; I don't need fixing or anybody to do it for me."

Dave is twice divorced so he knows better that to dispute whether I do indeed need fixing or not. Instead he goes for the obvious, "Fix all those things yourself. Then go see about him."

As with everything in my life the advice and learning experiences are non sequitur. Sometimes I even need to be told twice. Things can break or be fixed without my knowledge.

Do you check your self-esteem at the door?

Alan Baker also ran an ad in the dating cesspool. He simply stated that he was a big goofball who really hated dating. So I answered in late August.

There was only one thing wrong with him "as far as I could tell"-he was merely separated from his wife. A detail I usually try to avoid. Notice I say "usually." But he does expand on the idea-separated as in another state.

It's slow moving at first. It takes a week of e-mailing back and forth and then he suggests chat. I secretly have to install an instant messenger- the things we'll do for a date. The chat is good but come on here; not looking for a pen pal either. He appears to be one of the most timid, shy men ever. And his soon to be ex-wife has clearly broken him.

Sometimes I think my entire purpose in life is to fix things. Even my business involves fixing things to some extent. Men are no different. Sadly once I've screwed their heads back on straight, they leave me. They don't need me anymore. Nearly all of my fixer-uppers marry the woman they date after me. There are few exceptions to this rule-one is on the suspicion list and one I'm trying to get back.

Anyways back to Alan. After typing my finger to little nubs I realize that if we're going to ever meet face to face I'm going to have to take charge. So I take a shower and then get on IM. The conversation goes as usual; a lot of flirting and silly banter but he's still not asking me out. While chatting I quickly compose an e-mail. Simple and to the point. Meet me at the Starbucks in 30 minutes or we're not chatting anymore.

In thirty minutes I see him loitering outside. He's much taller and much goofier than I had pictured. He's 36 going on about 14 and he's so self conscious he's got me looking at my shoes too. We get our coffee and begin an aimless walk through downtown. He's smart and really charming once the shyness wears off. He was married for 15 years and she wrecked him. Eventually we sit down on a bench under the guise of people watching. A quick meeting turns into a few hours and I realize while I'm sitting there that I do really like this geek. "What are you thinking about?" he questions, "you've got a funny look on your face." I smile and say nothing but turn myself so that my feet are between his and our knees touch. This is Rick's advice- for I was told that on our first few dates my body language was not good. It didn't appear that I was interested he said because my feet pointed away from him. Alan smiles a goofy smile. It would be the beginning of what I thought would be something.

A few weeks forward- I'm on my way to Alan's when Rick calls. We chat our usual chat work, family, seeing anyone? The tale of Alan begins. This is one of the few times Rick properly identifies me as happy. "You love him don't you?" And I try to lie. "You do. In fact you've already told him. How does this work?" Don't be silly I say, that would be insane. And mumble but true under my breath. We talk so long I actually arrive at Alan's while still talking to Rick. "Do I need to let you go?" No, Alan's cool and you're my friend. We chat for a few more minutes but I can tell he's uncomfortable with the idea. "It's good to hear you're happy," he says as he ends the conversation.

I look up and Alan is there watching me, "It's good to see that you do have a few friends to talk to."

Alan and I have dinner and he returns to his computer to finish his never ending work that he continually brings home. I crash on the couch-still in his line of sight- to read. I love to read but the book just isn't holding my interest. Soon I'm lost in my own thoughts of blue eyes and a gorgeous smile and what he would have said if I had ever told him that I loved him. "what are you thinking about?" Alan says "because you've got that funny look on your face again."

Alan and I would last only 6 weeks. we would never have a fight and I wouldn't see the end coming. The last thing I ever said to him in person was I love you.

It would come in the form of a short, terse email. My things are in a box on the porch. He's leaving the country for a while and doesn't know when he'll return. He has some things to fix for himself. Don't wait.

And as happy as I was the previous week now I am sad. I make the 30 minute drive to retrieve the dreaded cardboard box. There's no note inside, no reason, no apology just a big box of broken heart.

There's really only one person I really want to be with when this happens (as it all too frequently does). He knows that I've been crying, as he always does. And probably know the exact nature of my distress before he says he'll meet me at the local bar.

I never cry in front of him. That's one of our problems I think; he needs to see me vulnerable and I've just never been able to give into that. So we drink and he listens. And when my story comes to an end with my usual, "Why do I always have to fix them so that they can leave me?"

And the answer is brutal. "What do you do with these men? Check your self esteem at the door? I don't understand how you keep letting this happen."

The Lay's potato chip ad theory of my life

I'm sure everyone is familiar with the the ad campaign for Lay's potato chips. Mistakes in my life are also run by these fine folks; bet you can't make just one. Too many years of college level math means I can't just add to my mistakes too. I'll need some fancy superscript thing to raise them to a whole new level of stupidity.

They say hindsight has 20/20 vision? Yeah and I walk around in my day to day life with 20/400 vision. No really. Look at this.

So a major player in this scenario has swallowed a giant emotional bullet and told me how he feels. And I have had the tact and social grace to squash him like a bug. But I'm trying to do the right thing by Paul. He's great and has never flaked out on me. I rationalize that Rick has had his chances (and his screw ups) and it's only "fair."

But I'm still worried about this when I go for my next haircut. And any woman can tell you, the person who cuts your hair has some sort of truth serum in their shampoo. I'm there all of 15 minutes and Kurt is completely caught up on what you know as episodes one and two. And as usual he's deadly accurate with his advice (or so I think).

"Do you really need to decide between these two? I mean Rick is known for disappearing from your life. He's come and gone 5 or 6 times that I know of. Forget about the whole thing. Decide? He's not even going to be able to decide to call you back."

And it sounds logical. I'm wasting all my time "choosing" but I really only have one option. There is only one guy trying to be my "boyfriend" at this point.

And my hair looks fabulous.

Anyone who knows anything about me is now waiting for the other shoe to fall. I own 50 or so pairs (yes Rick- your closet isn't the only one with a secret) so it's dammed near inevitable that the other shoe fall. I got my haircut on a Tuesday. So this shoe falls on Wednesday night. And kicks me in the ass.

The phone rings. And it's the one we've decided won't call back. "Did you decide anything in your thoughts over the last week?" is virtually the first thing he says. So much for cut, color and foil hi-lights. So I try to hedge the question. Which is not at all possible with Rick. He sees through all of my crap. All the time. It's pretty irritating other than he's really surprisingly accurate- kind of like he knows me or something. Pfft.

So back to the fire. "Decide? well....umm...no" "No decision?????" And then in a blathering speed, trying to convey some sense of certainty-Well I didn't really think I had to decide. I mean you usually don't call back. The last time I decided I never heard from you again. I didn't think you'd call.

"Oh." and then a long pause to count to a hundred to keep from reaching through the phone and smacking me. "You didn't think I'd call." Sounds like someone who is calling expecting a yes or no answer- not the deflating- I haven't bother to consider it I just handed him. So I've dug a big hole here. But never fear, I still have that same shovel. And now, with great gusto, am going to dig an even deeper hole for myself over the next hour. Because not deciding about what may be "the one" isn't really a big life changing event. No, let's really insult the poor guy so he never returns your calls again.

So I throw the book at him: you don't call when you say you will, I never know when I'll see you again, you're seeing other people (why do I say other people? it's other women I'm sure) blah, blah, blah. And he listens. "Is that really what you think?" Okay so maybe I'm being a bit harsh here in my sales pitch (to myself) but mostly. "Really? You think I'm inattentive?" Well you never call when you say you will. which is an out and out lie- somewhere Verizon has a record of a $500 phone bill from when we first dated. He likes to talk on his drive home from work. And he knows it- he offered to pay the bill when it came. But by then we had begun our first drift and I would have walked over hot coals before asking him to pay my phone bill. But back to the matter at hand- I'm insulting him.

I throw in more about how I don't think he's serious about this and whatever. Sorry- this part isn't so fresh in my mind. Somehow the mistakes don't focus well in my memory.

We talk for probably an hour and at one point I'm crying, which I don't think he realizes (but when I don't think he realized he always does- so what do I know?) when he realizes that the conversation is beyond my control, he does what I see as a merciful thing. He lets me off the hook. "If you have something good going with Paul I don't want to mess you up. Stay where you're at. I just want you to be happy."

He says that a lot- the whole I just want you to be happy. It's harder for me than most people. He knows that. He has little frame of reference for what my happy looks like. But he has seen it. The craziest thing is that he's the first person I want to call when I'm my unhappiest.

Okay so far it's screwed up; now what do you do?

Well as anyone who's ever seen a Laurel & Hardy movie knows: every action is followed by an equal and opposite reaction. Thus begins my comedy of errors that puts me in this seat today.

So I wander home; bawling the whole way-okay so it's like 2 miles but give me a break. Somewhere in my mind I think that talking to Paul will make me feel better. So I sit, in this same seat, and start the late night ritual of IM'ing. He has no clue of my current freak-out state. And he cannot in any way, shape or form make me feel better. In fact I feel much worse. I have cheating guilt for a cheat that only happened in my heart. The worst cheating guilt ever.

I was raised Catholic; we have the market cornered on guilt. For a while after I distanced myself from their ideology my motto was, "Guilt is an emotion I refuse to possess." It works well you just have to avoid doing stupid stuff that you'll regret the next day. It does not take into account these sorts of situations however.

So I had my super-sized helping of guilt and no one to confide it in. So I chewed on it.

All day Thursday- my job requires no brain- and therefore leaves lots of time for me to wander around with my thoughts. This was not helping me any.

I decided to drive to see Paul. I had no idea of what I was going to say but I had nearly two hours to come up with it as I drove across mid-Michigan. I seriously wondered why I had bothered to pack a change of clothes about midway through the trip. Someone's "I love you" had taken hold of my brain. I had wanted to hear him say it for so long. But when I finally heard it my knee-jerk reaction was that it wasn't packaged prettily. I am such a girl sometimes. So I was working on what should have been my breakup speech. And its counterpart to Rick that would come later. It was dark and snowy. And just as I was turning onto Paul's street there was that disgusting sound that never leaves your mind. The screech of tires and an explosion of glass inside my car.

It wasn't one of those where your life flashes before your eyes. But it was one of those that made you say, "Holy shit" when you finally did get out of the car.

I sat there for a moment and realized that the radio was still playing. I was nearly pinned in my seat. I thought for a moment about who I wanted to call. Rick was 110 miles away (and might not answer). Paul won by proximity. I didn't really know how bad it was until I saw the look on his face.

I was okay though, or at least I kept telling myself. I was banged up and bruised and had almost the whole drivers door of glass in my hair but I was lucky. And in a few moments I convinced myself I was lucky to have such a great guy to come get me.

The real lies came when people started asking me what had happened. You can't exactly tell people that you nearly died because you were distracted by someone's unexpected declaration of their innermost feelings. well, I guess you could but ...

So there was no break-up. Mr Wonderful took care of me; drove me for a rental car, retrieved my crap from the salvage yard where my car had been towed (He said he didn't want me to have to see that again) and in general acted like his wonderful self. And for a moment I forgot.

But the phone would ring and the caller id would say a different name and there I was- giddy like a school girl again. He started out by saying that he guessed he owed me an apology. Which made me question if he remembered what he had even said. In my mind we now had- I love you, I'm sorry. which was even slightly more confusing than the original sentiment. so I danced around the subject for a few minutes. He really didn't know what he had said. But he did know I was questioning it. After some wheedling he managed to get it out of me-"Well you told me that you love me and then proposed."

And then there was silence.

The sheepish voice recanted. No; he wasn't in love with me. But he could see himself being in love with me. He always wondered why "we" never worked out. Logically there's no reason. we hemmed and hawed in our usual respective roles until it was obvious "the thing" had reappeared.

"The thing" is like a 600 lb gorilla in our relationship. We've always had it; it took us more than two years to identify it and now that I think I can squash it- I'm blogging.

A lifelong engineer and a woman referred to as the Ice Princess probably aren't the most typical romantic leads. But the attraction is as real as "the thing." The attraction has been noticed by others- we keep "the thing" under wraps because we're not admitting to it yet.

So in the midst of this tell me how you really feel conversation the question of "the thing" comes up. But this time the difference is that I know what it is now. It's fear. We are afraid I say. And for a moment more silence and then the question," so all we need to do is decide that what we have to gain is much greater than what we could lose?"

It was quite possibly better than hearing I love you. But I sat there like an idiot. He asked to come see me and to talk and foolishly I said no- the house was too dirty. "Do you really think I'm coming to see the house?" But stubborness won out and I laid in bed and replayed the conversation in my mind a few dozen times.

Good grief

For those of you who are keeping track, today I am 34 1/2 yrs old. Bummer. I've been toying with the blog idea for a couple weeks now. Nothing makes you want to anonymously chat up your life on the internet like a small life meltdown. Here's today's (besides my impending old age that is).

If you know me IRL, you know I'm on enough dating websites to satisfy a New York socialite. Currently we have two front-runners (but today they're not important). Not being really too keen on either of them-one appears to have no time to actually see me and the other appears to be happy being my pen-pal and calling at odd hours of the night. So I logged onto my usual dating cesspool and read todays dose of boring e-mails. Then I went to see who's viewed me. Usually it's a freakshow; people who have eyeballed my profile but haven't winked or e-mailed. Today, right there on the first page, is the one who got away.

I was sure of it without reading any of the text.

I would recognize him anywhere.

To tell you where I farked this up we have to back-track some. And I'm sure I've screwed this up with this guy on multiple occasions so bear with me.

Wed January 31 , 2007-

After working an insane 12 hour day I came home and showered. I really wanted a drink but hate drinking alone. How much more depressing can you be? Really? As luck would have it-perhaps the last time I had any luck- the phone rang as I stepped out of the shower. It was him- before he officially became "the one that got away." He wanted to know if I'd meet him for a drink at the local spot just around the corner from my house. I was there in 30 minutes.

At this time I'm dating Paul, a sweet guy who has recently returned to college for his law degree. Names are changed only to protect the innocent so your guess is as good as mine here. But on this day I 'm still wearing my rose colored glasses in the relationship (read as he hasn't handed me my ass yet).

Rick is at the bar in his usual spot. And he looks better than I've seen him look in a while. Seriously hot. And being Rick he's telling me I look hot.

So we talk for a bit and drink. Most things seem normal. There's a reason I say most. This is the first time I've ever agreed to see Rick when I'm happily dating someone else. This is the first time I've gotten to the bar and found him sort of drunk and it's the first time I've ever heard the heard him say the following: "I love you. I'm going to Vegas in May. I want you to come with me and let's get married."

This is where I screw up big time.

He's not mister emotional. He's an engineer for crying out loud. While his words are permanently embedded (we'll have the story on how burned in they are on February 3rd) in my mind what I say next can only be paraphrased at best. Rather than say yes- like any sane woman would. I say no- no as in you don't really love me and you don't really want to marry me. You're drunk-no. And for the next half hour he tries to convince me that he's serious. I remind him that I'm happily seeing someone else. And he asks why I'm here at all then. (He's incredibly smart.) sensing that he isn't going to win the major battle he tries a smaller request- come home with me tonight and I'll ask you again in the morning. While this offer is almost too good to pass up I think of sweet, trusting Paul dutifully studying some 100 miles away and decline. I'm trying to behave here I tell him but he's insistent and staring at me with the most gorgeous blue eyes ever. I'm about to lose this one.

And here's where I break my own heart. I realize that Rick isn't going to back-track on this conversation. I can't change the topic. So I decide it would be safest for me to go home. I've never told him no; it appears that it's impossible for me to actually do so. I put on my coat and grab my purse. Somewhere in the middle of this he's caught me in a hug and is inches from my face. Damm that cologne. And here's the moment; I'm trapped in a hug that represents my complete moral dilemma (with an Atheist for added irony) and the request has dwindled down to just one kiss. "Kiss me once and I'll let you go if that's what you really want." And as his face goes out of focus I turn my head and twist away; the kiss lands somewhere between my cheek and my right ear. I've never told him no before.

I can hear my footfalls on the tile floor as I'm leaving. And I can feel the eyes on the back of my head. But I can't look back. I don't know what look was on in face. I was too cowardly to look but I'm sure the one my mind has put in that spot is only a shadow of what was there.

It's February and it's freezing cold outside the door. It's even colder when you're crying. And I did it to myself.