Weekend Update With Stupid

Why am I so interested in someone who is so obviously not interested in me?! He’s not especially attractive, or funny or intelligent, so what is it about him that it I want so badly? Is it the old “You want most what you haven’t got”? I think it’s because I let him kiss my breasts and I touched his penis. Yup, that’s it all right. I hate this.

And on the other end of the spectrum I’ve got Daniel, a perfectly nice man who lives in Seguin and is available, yet the thought of him touching me gives me the willies along the lines of cleaning spiderwebs. But there is one interesting part: when we were at the club and after I’d had two beers, I wouldn’t have minded kissing him. 2 hours later we’re watching a movie on my couch and I’m thinking “If he tries to make a move, how are you going to get out of it!?!? You’re getting a cold? Stomach problems? Think, woman, THINK!” So I guess that just means that you’re going to have to be drunk around him all the time, and ya’ll will have a wonderful life with 2.3 children (with fetal alcohol syndrome). Actually, what it makes you realize is that you really shouldn’t drink on anymore dates because if you were willing to kiss that guy, who knows what you might accidentally do someday!

I know this is not cool, but the guy went bald in high school (literally, and I’m not talking receding hairline or thin patches, I’m talking actual baldness here) was born with a cleft palate and hairlip (or maybe those are the same thing?), didn’t have front teeth until the age of 15. Now, if you’re thinking that I’m a shallow bitch, hear me out: how am I supposed to have fantasies of our children? HUH!? What kind of genes would I be propagating here? OK, maybe I am still being a shallow bitch, but I know I am not a knockout, and I would still not expect a man to get with me if he was not physically attracted to me. Chemistry counts for a lot, and while I cannot explain why I like the jerk and not the good guy, I’d like to think that it’s not just some moronic cliché. I mean, the jerk isn’t perfect but he didn’t take out his two front teeth on our first date, and he didn’t take off his shoes and socks to reveal long dirty toenails, and then place them on your coffee table. Nice guys don’t always finish last, but when they do that shit, can they really expect anything less?

This weekend was actually pretty fun. A little weird, but fun. I went to the Shiner picnic with Amanda and some of her friends. Cheers was the fact that I met some fairly nice people, had a lot of good beer, and got out of the house. Jeers would undoubtedly be that I texted Juan when I was drunk, thereby getting my hopes up about some sort of reconciliation. Not only is that very pathetic, as he has made it pretty obvious that he’s over me (as if he were ever really into me), but he’s not a good guy to begin with, so it makes me realize how vulnerable I truly am right now. Well, at least he answered, but he’s stopped answering, so back to square one. Sigh….oh, and I’m starting to realize that the match.com honeymoon is over, because I just keep getting the same old guys, and no new leads.
Lastly, I NEED a new job. I don’t expect to be at this job on my next b-day. As a matter of fact, if I did stay in my position that long, I’d probably lose my house or some shit, because it’s just too hard to make it on my salary alone. One thing about living w/my ex was that the bills were all good. Now that I’m by myself I’m having to charge groceries, phone bills, and other really important things. Unless I’m prepared to get a second mortgage or something,

I’m going to have to start making more money, and that’s not coming from this office. Besides, there have been many signs that it’s just time to go. Alan coming in with that job info, me seeing how much Troy is earning, Cynthia is gone and I’m not jazzed about her replacement. And let us not forget Harold and Jean being assholes all the time-that really makes me want to quit.

Take the "late" Out of ChocoLATE

I’m at a camp, which is vaguely familiar to me, though now that my id is suppressed I realize that I’ve never been there in my life. There is a large house in front of the property, and it has many rooms, and doors and such. You then go to a back portion where there is one big green mound in the middle and a rivet where the water runs off, kinda like in your parent’s back yard, but on a much larger scale. Then there are various other buildings, mostly houses sprinkled throughout the back portion, some of which are not part of the camp but are owned privately by families. Then the zombie attacks begin…. We’re trying to figure out where we can hide and where the zombies have not yet gotten to. Much like in the movies where the non-zombies find each other and band together, I’m running with a thin woman in her mid thirties and a younger man in his early 30’s. There is something vaguely sexual about the man, but not a closeness which would imply that we have been intimate, just the attraction.

We’re running, across the mound now, and I’m praying that the zombies have not yet gotten to the village behind us. I scamper off to the right (this part remind me of my Grandpa’s house) and find there are dense woods, huge boulders and a brook w/moving water. I begin to wonder if I can survive out here and if I would be safe. I see a tall indigenous man with longish hair and realize that he is from another era and does not speak English. He’s not a zombie, but that doesn’t mean that he makes me feel safe. He begins to make motions of eating flesh, so I know that he, like me, is looking for respite from the zombies, but there’s just something about this guy that I do not like, so I quickly turn around and begin to go back where I came from. I run over the mound again, and find my “friends” squirreled away in a shower. One of the smaller girls has been bitten and we know it’s just a matter of time, but we can’t bear to leave her to the zombies just yet. A zombie crashes through, all hell breaks loose and we begin running. He swipes for me, and I elude him and run out of the back door, over the mound once again.

I begin to think of the indigenous man in the woods and hope that he’s gone. All of a sudden I see my father, and I suddenly know that my family is safe. He points me in the direction of the house, but to the left, the side of it. I don’t know how I missed it, but the whole neighborhood is built on some kind of ridge. Be stealthily crawling along the ditch, I can peek over to see impending danger but still remain hidden. I also see that this is where the poor, Hispanic families are hiding. I see no zombies. Dad tells me that I have to keep going forward and that he can’t go with me, but every time I look behind, he’s there. The houses become more frequent, and I suddenly realize I’m in a city, a neighboring town. The zombie scare has passed. Time has passed and all of the zombies have starved.

I’m riding in a truck with an elderly white woman, who is driving, her grandchild and Jasmin from camp. Jasmin and the child are in the back seat. All of a sudden, things turn dark and deadly, and the elderly woman is becoming threatening. We’re arguing and I suddenly lash out at her. After striking her a few times, she gets highly agitated and I realize that I am in big trouble. It suddenly crosses my mind that I might need to kill her (!), and at that exact moment, she begins to display zombie-like behavior. Her eyes are large and spooky and she begins to bite and lunge at my hands and arms. My hand is dangerously close to her biting jaws, and I'm trying to hold her head still but keep my fingers out of harms way. Suddenly I hear her neck snap, but she does not die- quite the opposite as she continues to drive, and races to her home, and her teeth graze my skin. They are dentures and so she is unable to puncture the surface.

The moment she gets to her driveway she leaps out of the truck, sticks her key in the door and runs upstairs for her gun. Jasmin easily wrestles the gun from her hands and shoots her. The old woman falls on the floor. I immediately decide we must flee the scene. I pick up the gun and something falls out. They are batteries (?). The old woman had hastily stuck batteries on the bottom, and so two were meant for the gun and two had fallen to the floor. I push the two batteries in, slide the bottom shut (it was like changing batteries in a remote control), and ran upstairs hoping that I could see where she got her gun from so that I could put it back. Luckily, the only thing amiss is a wooden box, and I realize that is where the gun goes. As I run downstairs I grab the batteries that had spilled onto the floor and stick them in my pocket. Her granddaughter had gotten out of the truck and is standing by the door, though she is not at all traumatized. Jasmine scoops her up and I use the keys the old woman had left in the door to lock her corpse in her home. My mind races….did she turn into a zombie after I broke her neck or before? Was it self defense or did I just murder someone? What will we tell the police? Was it right to put the gun back? What will I do with the batteries and now her keys?

We get in the woman’s truck; I am driving. We slowly back out of the driveway. 3 policemen are walking by and stop our truck to inquire whether or not we’re doing OK now that the zombies are gone. We act as though we are dropping of the old woman’s truck and begin walking ourselves. It is a very strange feeling-to know that there is a crime they have yet to discover and we, the culprits, are walking along side them. I realize that we could have claimed self defense if we had immediately told the officers what had happened, but our chance for that has passed. We’re talking easily, and laughing with them, but all the while I’m playing the events over and over again in my head, trying to get the story straight and wondering when I’m going to get a chance to talk to Jasmin so that we can agree on what happened and what we’ll do next. I startle myself awake as I realize “MY FINGERPRINTS ARE ON THE GUN!”.

I’m awake, but it was all so real. All morning long I’m in a daze and even as I drive to work, coffee in hand, I’m wondering why I didn’t wipe it down before I put it away. Note to self “Do not bow down to period-induced chocolate cravings at 10pm if you’re bedtime is within that next hour.”

Post MENstral Syndrome

Mr. Juanderful was giving me some pretty hardcore signs that he just wasn’t very interested anymore, and then he comes out with “What are you doing Saturday night?” on Friday at about 10pm. So we make a date and he tells me to pick the time. I pick 5pm (just enough time to fit a matinee in there). So Saturday am I’m trying to mow the grass, clean the house, wash the clothes, go to SA to buy a new TV at Best Buy, fix the toilet seat, etc… when he texts me something mysterious. I ask “huh?” and two seconds later he’s calling me and giggling b/c it was intended for one of his friends and he accidentally sent it to me. So I was like “OK…ha ha….that’s cool. So I’ll see you tonight?” thinking that I have a million things to do and we’ll see each other later. Then lays this huge guilt trip on me b/c he says that I don’t want to talk to him. He hangs up on me. (!) I call him right back and explain that I was very sorry to be so short to him, blah, blah, blah, but in the back of my mind I’m thinking “When did I have to start kissing ass to a 31-year-old guy with major PMS?”. He pseudo-forgives me but says that I should call him later on that day to tell him if I want him to come over after all. ??? I sent him an apology e-card and I texted him twice to ask if he would check his e-mail. Got no response.

So I get my stuff done, and at 3pm I call him as he requested but someone picked up the phone and hung it up again. !!! So I call back, thinking it might have been a bad connection, and I get his voicemail. Uh-huh! I text him “So I guess it goes w/out saying that we won’t be seeing a movie together this evening. Sorry that I upset you. Goodbye” And he comes back with all this crap about how he’s out fishing, which is cool by me but I just didn’t understand how that makes him unreachable. I mean, he wasn’t deep sea fishing off the coast of Galveston, so what’s the deal? He says he’s sorry and he’d like to meet at 6 instead of 5. Allright.

He gets to my house and we decide to go see MI3. He’s not very jazzed about being there, and besides the movie, it’s kinda boring to spend time with him. Dinner was my treat (since I was so horribly nasty to him that morning) but he wouldn’t pick a place. I ended up picking El Ranchito, and he hated the food (surprised?!) and when we went back to my place he was like “Well, I’m going to go back home.” And I’m a little disappointed, but thinking “And this is the last time you will ever see this man again”. I wish him well, give him a big hug and go inside. 4 seconds later he calls and says “You never even asked me in!” So he ended up coming in and spending the night. Same old…we watched some TV, fooled around a bit, and we went to sleep. Next morning we chatted, fooled around some more, and THEN! He kept doing this thing where he would try to stick a finger in my butt. SO. NOT. COOL. At first it was kinda funny, like getting goosed, and I got a few of my own attempts in too, but then out of nowhere he got mighty close, so I jumped on top of him, spanked his butt as hard as I could and told him to STOP! I’m thinking it was playful, like wrestling, and cute b/c he could totally kick my ass but I spanked him anyway, and he jumps up, puts on his clothes, and says he has to go. Why is this guy so freakin’ sensitive? It’s not like he’s sensitive and treats me with kid gloves, he’s just blunt and super sensitive at the same time. I started to understand how Shawn must have felt all these years…

I ask him to please come back, at least so that I can give him a hug good-bye, but he’s out the door. I’m on the bed, naked but for a t-shirt, with his scent still all over my body, and he abruptly left. I texted him that he made me feel like his whore, and that if he was only interested in fooling around then he should stop contacting me. He texts back “I didn’t mean to do that but you make me feel the same way we should move on” And I reply “I don’t understand how I made you feel like a whore, but if you want to move on then I have to respect that. Thank you for telling me.” And that concludes my latest and most f-ed up foray into the dating world.

Of course, later on that day I got totally schnockered when Amanda, her Sean, and Connie came over to swim in the pool. It was fun, but the hangover the next day was not. This long weekend I’m going to accompany Amanda to Yoakum to the Shiner picnic (got nothing else going on!), and we’re all going toobing the weekend after next. So that’s good; some diversions from not having Juan to hang out with. But I guess that’s the cool part about being older and dating; slicing through the bs, or even just realizing a strong connection hasn’t been made at least means that you won’t be spending months or years of your life with the wrong person. I really am thankful that he was honest with not seeing a future for us. (But I was just really starting to get into his cuteness, and his sexy sexy hands!) Sigh……

Landed Butter-side Down

And the beat goes on….I’m done making excuses for Mr. Wonder Penis b/c he’s trying to fuck with my head, and that’s just not how I roll. He’s saying that he’s interested, but then not contacting me, much like Omar did….hmmmm… seeing a pattern here? I’m starting to remember why I don’t date Hispanic men. No matter, because God is sending me distractions in the way of 3 new winkers, 4 if you count Marc (an old winker who was moving therefore did not have enough of his shit together to actually commit to correspondence), and yes I realize that leaving it up to God sounds nutty but it’s just the way I view things.

On a more serious topic, I haven’t had the inclination to exercise, and it’s really starting to bother me. I will admit that since fooling around w/Juan I caught his “allergies” so I’ve been super sleepy after work lately, but it feels like more than that; it’s more like a depressive “I don’t want to do anything” kind of vibe. And yesterday I was being all good by bringing my own lunch (soup) but the wonders of the sticky saran wrap failed for the first time, and it spilled all in the WalMart bag I brought it in. Eating soup from a WalMart bag? I have not yet reached that low, so I went to get a plate from a Chinese buffet place, thinking it would be about 7-8 bucks. But when I went to pay, they weighed it and it cost me $12.00! Since I’m still on the protein kick I understand that the stuff I got all weighs a lot b/c it’s meat- but shit! And I still didn’t have the energy to exercise. This is really freaking me out.

PLUS, when I told Juan that I realized he wasn’t interested anymore, and he texted me his goodbye, I started to cry!???? Confirmation of what Michele has been telling me: It’s going to take a long time to get over my ex, even if I’m feeling good on the surface, there are still a shitload of demons teeming right underneath that are going to rear their ugly heads for the next ?? months. Yikes. Three minutes after he said goodbye he called me up and asked me what my “problem” was. Then he claims he was waiting for me to call him and he thought I didn’t want to be w/him. Yeah, just like a meskin, trying to convince me that shit is my fault when he’s the big tough MAN full of machismo, but he’s scared to call a girl. Whatever.
Lie #1: He didn’t receive the texts I sent him on Tuesday morning.
Lie #2: He quit match.com and can’t read his e-mail from there anymore.
Lie#3: He wasn’t logged onto match.com, although I was on the internet and could see the “Currently Online Now!” icon blazing in red.

Yup-a regular Shawn Jr., except my ex didn’t start telling obvious whoppers like that until at least the 2nd year of our relationship.

I guess it’s good that I’m sharpening my teeth on guys like that this that are easy to let go of. I mean, it always feels bad to know that someone who has spent time w/you is indifferent to your company (it’s an ego thing), but it helps when you too are fairly indifferent to them as well. Could I see myself living in Nixon in his trailer, which is located next to his mom’s trailer? Nope. And get this! Sunday I decided to cut and soften his cuticles, so I was basically giving him a manicure (I’ll admit that this guy has very nice hands), and the only things he ever said about it was along the lines of “You missed something” and “Give me the cutter” so that he could do it on his own. WHAT A TOOL! I can guarantee that if I did that w/an Anglo they would either not be comfortable enough w/me to let me do that, or would think “Wow, this girl is so sweet” (what can I say, I am sweet! OK, I’ll ‘fess up b/c it’s my diary: I can be sweet), but Hispanic men have this sense of entitlement that I just don’t understand. And quite frankly, I don’t want to understand it. It’s bad enough that I lived with it for 18 yrs and had to see my mom get taken for granted, but I’ll be damned if all of my love is going in a vessel where 60% of it is discounted all together.

The biggest incongruency I’ve found is that I don’t like the fact that Anglos don’t appreciate the fact that I have saved myself from having a lot of sexual partners. That attribute is definitely more prized in the Hispanic world, but I can deal with that as long as my efforts as a friend and girlfriend are at least appreciated. Sigh… I just want someone to “get” and appreciate me. How hard can that be? Oh wait, I’m making the same mistake I made before I met Shawn! I meant, I want an HONORABLE, DEPENDABLE man who has a solid future, a good sense of humor, and his head on straight in general, to “get” and appreciate me. How hard can that be? :-)

Slut Puppy

S’OK. I met one of my match guys and on the second date we ended up fooling around. Sigh….It’s not a huge deal b/c it’s not like we had sex or anything, and he’s a mixture of Tomas, DJ, and Shawn which means he’s dark, likes to lie, and won’t try any new foods, all rolled into one! I mean, sure, I’m disappointed in myself for doing that b/c that’s not the kind of person that I have been, and being new at the whole dating thing means that I’m going to need to redefine how I’d like to present myself. It felt like a good rebound thing though, like I was stripping power from my ex and bolstering my ability to find someone. And in this way he’ll stop contacting me (typical meskin’ who acts like an admiral man but is really just trying anything to get into your panties) and I won’t have to feel bad for not returning his calls b/c I know I can do so much better.

While that sounds awful may I just interject the facts that he did not brush his teeth in the 21 hours we spent together, and when I told him I would not have unsafe sex w/him he looked deep into my eyes and said “Trust me”. I'm trying to establish a new outlook on the whole guilt-ridden Catholic girl front, but I'm not ready to go all "Sex in the City". No, dear reader, bodily fluids were not exchanged, but not because he didn't try. I know, I’m a little hurt and dejected b/c he hasn’t called today, which is a sure-fire bet that I was his weekend sancha and he’s over it, but in my heart of hearts I know that it’s attention from a man that I truly crave, and not this specific person’s company, and that’s really unfair to him. (And OMG, he had the smallest penis I have EVER SEEN! I haven’t seen many but I honestly didn’t think a grown man could have a member that tiny! 3 inches, and I’m being generous!)

PS: Vegas was fun-no ex drama-and I'll write more about that later.

Just Put The Doughnut DOWN!

Dumbass has called me two times in the past two days. He wanted to know where I found my moneybelt for the trip (Walmart-duh), and he also told me that he came by my house to see the kittens. When I got back from Brownsville I noticed that the kittens were gone, so I’m thinking that the momma cat moved them b/c she was scared for their safety. Thanks Shawn, you fuck my shit up even after we’re over and done with.

Y’know, if there is one positive thing about the crush thing not working out, it is this: it really got my mind off Shawn, and has made my resolve that much stronger about not wanting to be friendly towards him. Well, and two, it’s giving me more inspiration to lose weight. The first leg of this journey was all about fitting into some cute clothes for the Vegas trip so that I wouldn’t feel so pathetic in front of stupid, but I was a little worried that once I got home I would no longer have the will to go forward. “Meeting” Omar has made me realize that the next time I find someone I’m interested in getting to know more, I have to be prepared to actually see him face-to-face. And that will only happen once I’m comfortable w/my size. I figure that by then end of July I should back to my old self again. This too will make you stronger, and dammit, don’t forget this fucking lesson!!! Don’t let yourself go ever again!

Homestretch Aborted

Going to the big LV! I’m starting to get really excited about this trip, although it is tinged w/regret about Rootie. She just spent the past 3 days w/my Grandma b/c I was doing presentations in Brownsville, then I’m gone for 5 more days on vacation, and when I return she’s getting her monthly shot for her Addisons AND she’s getting her teeth cleaned. She’s going to be one sad little puppy for a while, and she has no idea what she’s in for. Poor baby.

Speaking of poor babies, my last entry included (or rather was largely made up of) references to my e-crush. Well, my b-day card was met with a grateful response and a phone call that Saturday evening. We talked from about 6pm until 1:30am, which I thought was a pretty good sign. Then no call. And no e-mail. And now it’s Thursday and my impatient and curious self is thinking “WHAT THE FUCK?!!” on an hourly basis. While I was bored in McAllen I texted said e-crush which prompted a call that lasted all of 4 minutes before someone else called and he got off the phone w/me, telling me he would call me back. It’s Friday morning and I’m still waiting for that call. Strike three, and YOU’RE OUT!

Ok, I know that I am an impatient person, and that I’ve never really dated so I don’t know how “the game” is played, but therein lies my predicament: why is it a game? Why can’t you just like someone and show them how much you enjoy their company? Granted, this guy could have any number of reasons to not call me, some which may be valid and some that may be allusions to the fact that he’s not a good prospective friend, but shit shouldn’t be this difficult, should it? Or am I making it difficult? All I know is that the daydreams will stop (I’ve masturbated no less than 4 times while fantasizing about this guy), the little things that come to mind that I want to tell/share with him, wondering what he’s doing and when he’ll call next…all over. And sadly, the happy little lilt in my voice and jaunt in my step from thinking that I’ve found a guy-friend and that he’s a cool person. And so the search begins anew……

Hey, you found this guy, so at least they're out there.