Still Working

Hello, dear readers. Just to let you know, I’m still working on filling you in on the unblogged–but very bloggable–two weeks or so that I took off from the blog. For now I’ll just say that this morning I am upbeat and hopeful. I’m still worried about getting caught up in the tornado of emotions and then getting slammed back to Earth; but, I still feel the need to enjoy the happiness, rather than always warning myself to keep that in check.

Who knows what’s best? Who am I to try to guide my life?

This weekend I was in southern Vermont and went to the amazingly awesome McNeill’s Brewery in Brattleboro. I know I’ve had McNeill’s before, though I don’t recall when, but I had not remembered it being as good as it was on Saturday–probably (from the four different beers I tried) the best microbrews I’ve ever had (although I like Berkshire Brewing’s porter a little more than McNeill’s, but just a little). One funny thing that happened as I was standing at the bar was that this guy standing there next to me turned to me and said: “Did anyone tell you that you and your type are the worst sort of scum?” Hmmm…while I was trying to figure out who we were that were such scum I figured I’d answer rather than get offended so I replied something like I hadn’t been told that in a while but thanks for letting me know. I figured that would either diffuse the situation or lead to some mischief, but he turned and walked out of the bar and then a minute or so later came back in and apologized for mistaking me for an acquaintance of his. Hah! I knew it had to be something like that as I man the most “mistaken for another person” person in America. Even funnier, as I was searching for internet stuff on McNeill’s, I saw a picture of the owner and, well, unless I am mistaking him for someone else…

Note to self: next time ask for a free drink!

Note to readers: their salsa was also very excellent. I already make one similar, but I’m looking to tweak my recipe to make it more like the brewery’s. Hint: mango.
Anyway, off to another day of the usual fun including one of the boy’s baseball games and lots of catching up on sleep and paper correcting.

Odd Times

Yesterday’s post–My “Sponsored Links” Mock Me–occurred this past Friday. Let’s see, what to say to add to the story…by Friday night, after a morning spent writing back and forth and being pummelled by venomous words, after an afternoon of sucking it up and apologizing–not just to apologize, but because I realized that I had messed up badly, but unintentionally–I found myself being asked out by MHE for this coming Friday. I didn’t see that coming–in fact, I had expected an extended period of formal and, perhaps cold, formality between us as friends. And then on Sunday she invited me over to watch a movie at the house. And, on Sunday, again for last night. I’m still not sure what brought the crazy rollercoaster back to this place, but–with a sense of reservation and certainly no expectations–I’ve hopped back on for the moment.

These are odd times for me. I suppose there’s still a lot of backfill to give you, dear readers, to truly illustrate how odd these past few weeks have been, but that will come in time. For now MHE is seriously courting me; I’ve ignored the loud warning bells going off in my head. I’m looking at her face and seeing the MHE I saw when we were at our best (which was never all that great considering all the drama); and I’m still falling into that glaze-over I’ve described before–when I’m not with her I can name a thousand reasons not to be; when I am with her, “the sun shines out of her asshole” (is that the quote from Juno?) as far as I can see.

Writing all of this is awkward because, recently, I found myself smitten–and still do–with someone who happens to read this blog. But I can’t not write it. And though I’m falling back in with MHE, I’m doing so with a good sense that the chaos may not be too far away yet again. I’ve even asked a couple of friends to be alert for me seeming head over heels–and, dear readers, feel free to join them in having carte blanche to give me a reality smack. Or, at the very least, when this house of cards crumbles again, don’t hesitate to say: I told you so.

My “Sponsored Links” Mock Me

Okay, this is going way out of order as far as catching you up on the past two-and-a-half weeks, but it’s what came to mind first.

Let’s see, a little “mix up” occurred, leading MHE to basically tell me in an email that I was the most vile person in the world and that she couldn’t even bear to look at me let alone ever be my friend (more on this later). So, while I’m taking this barrage of abuse via email, I notice that all of my gmail sponsored links are along the lines of:

Ending a Relationship–an Online Resource

The Online Guide to Breaking Up

and of course, Singles.net and Match.com-like sites

Thanks for the help, gmail.

Jerk.

Ghost Town

I will be back soon. Promise. Been busy, been away from the computer.

Been upped and downed and turned around.

(Please don’t let me hit the ground).

A Duck’s Back

I wish I had more time to write because I know lost somewhere in the last period of not writing much are a bunch of good stories. But I will at least give a few details about recent events.

Okay, first of all, last weekend’s visit with the Young One: I was talking to my friend P. the other day and in talking realized how many times the Young One has hinted at the possibility of a little something something. His reply: “You HAVE to go for it. Not just for yourself but for all of your friends who will never have the chance!” OIh, and he also described her as “Teeming with fuck me sexuality.” In case you wanted to have an idea why she is often the topic of our thoughts.

What I had also forgotten about that night was that I also saw her friend LL, whom I had drunkenly sent a myspace message to at 4 AM after the evening that MHE dumped me. You can only imagine what it was like. Oddly enough, I think that, rather than being annoyed or amused by it, she has since been intrigued. We’ll see if that is yet another possibility there. Oh–and I was discussing these two women with Dice-G, a co-worker of mine. We tend to have these wonderfully workplace-inappropriate conversations. And, so, this comment was not atypical: “You HAVE to work on a threesome–think of it, they’re legal AND their ages don’t add up to yours! You’ll make the guy ‘hall of fame’ instantly!”

Like I said: on a roll.

And then Tuesday night I was hanging out with the pool league guys (but no MHE because of her new grift job). As expected Tragedy Girl showed up on the scene. I slowly drifted over to her and we chatted on and off for awhile, played the bar video game (she’s no MHE or “Other Option” when it comes to word games), and, of course, before I knew it, she had had quite a number of shots and was all over me like, like, um, you know, something that is all over something else, like, a lot. Not that I’m complaining and not that I wasn’t fully involved in the fun–I’m just saying is all. Anyway, at the start of the night had told her that I wasn’t staying past eleven (hey, it’s a work night) so round about 12:30 I finally decided to head home, despite the good times. So, she walked me to my car and we both showed off our kinesthetic learning style.

Funny thing is, since this has all been fun and stuff, at times I tend to take a step back and observe us fairly objectively. Like when she was holding my arms telling me how strong I felt–hey, right thing to say to a guy and maybe you’re drunken self actually half believes it, but if you know me you know that that is what Huck Finn would call a “stretcher” at best. It makes me wonder how many patently untrue things I’ve also drunkenly said to her. (The only one I can think of is “No, I didn’t laugh when you tripped in the same spot for the third time.”)

Anyway, she also had this disturbing habit of talking about relationship possibilities–and mind you I went into this little escapade with the sense that a “relationship” was NOT what she was ready for (she’s fairly recently, unexpectedly widowed). So, it was a bit amusing when, the next day, she texted me and said sorry I don’t think we should have a relationship. Sorry? No, thank you for climbing onto the same page. I’m interested to see what happens the next time I see her out. Will she go back to the vodka shots and come back to me looking for a little something? And, hey, whatever. She will or she won’t. It’s all water off a duck’s back at this point.

Last night MHE and I made plans to hang out this weekend. She’s on a mini-vaca watching someone’s house so it’ll be fun to hang low with her and her daughter. I’ll be making dinner for us, hopefully reminding her that I’m the best damned thing to come along since Black Cherry vodka. Although, actually, I think I came first…

All in all I’m still not sure what or who I want. MHE still has a lot of question marks and everyone else, well, is everyone else at this point. I saw a drunk JetBlue last night and spent some tme in a painful conversation. Though I don’t think it was my intent, our talking definitely caught MHE’s attention and she looked mildly irked. But then again, she sometimes carries that face even when she isn’t.

Well, I’ve rambled on long enough for now. Next Wednesday I will have an audience with the Queen. Should be a fun time. Sushi and downtown and a museum? Sounds like a plan.

“Bar Slut”

So, last night I was down at the upstairs bar, hanging around with C. (who had just come back from Florida), L., the secret bar bartender and the tattooed bartender. When C. and L. were leaving, the bartender made a joke about me something to the extent “Now that they’re leaving, you better not get too rowdy.” To which L. replied: “Rowdy. He’s a fuckin’ bar slut. THAT’S what you have to watch out for!”

Oh man, can I help it if I’m on a bit of a roll? I’m not going to go into all the details but between the Young One and Ms. Hold ‘Em (of course) and the “Other Option” and, now, Tragedy Girl (I gotta think of a better name), I am loving the springlike weather that has turned everyone’s thoughts to love. Well, or at least lust.

Tragedy girl, whom I recently met playing pool upstairs–but whose brother I know pretty well–and I hung out Saturday down at the secret bar. And even though we spent much of the night talking about how it would be good to be friends for a while and take things slowly (in case we ever felt that we might date in the future) etc. etc. We ended up getting sufficiently drunk to–well, suffice to say the PDA’s were all over the place–in front the the secret bar’s campfire. And then again a short while later out in the parking lot by the car. Believe me, I was as surprised as anyone else. It’s funny though: for all the perversion that goes out there, for all the weird shit that happens, people still act like school children in situations like that. For example, the bar owner (who is responsible for 80% of the bar’s sordid behavior) saw me Sunday and asked with a big smirk on his face (in front of eight people I was about to have a meeting with: “Got any interesting stories from last night?” Ahhh, children.

But it was fun. I think it does a lot to kill any chance of being just buddies and I certainly don’t want to jump into dating. But we’ll see how it all plays out…

I’ll update you more later dear readers…

But What Does It Mean

I’ll try to do my seemingly “weekly” update later but for now I just want to point something out to you, dear reader, that I pointed out to myself yesterday.

Yesterday, I golfed and had a relaxing evening–one of many relaxing evenings in my life. I also found out that my retirement investment account lost over three thousand dollars last quarter. So much for relaxing. So much for all the hard work that got that money saved up for me.

Meanwhile, Ms. Hold ‘Em in the past week has earned several hundred at cards and hundreds if not thousands with her internet sales.  And she’s worked non-stop to do it.

I’m not sure what conclusion I want you to draw from those two scenarios, but I feel like I’m in the wrong profession–and I’m also feeling guilty about spending money, rather than making it, in my evening hours.

But, I don’t know what it means…other than I’m out three thousand bucks just like that. Then again, don’t worry too much about me. I’m still a long way from having to retire to a mobile home in a Chic’pee flood zone.

As If Life Weren’t Confusing Enough

UPDATED: Because it wasn’t already long enough… 

Let’s see, I remember last Thursday as being uneventful. Though the campfire was set up at the secret bar, it wasn’t in use yet, which was a bit of a bummer to both Miss Hold ‘Em (MHE) and I. It’s sad, but I can’t really remember much from that evening. Oh well, maybe it’ll come back to me or maybe it really was THAT uneventful.

Friday–parade weekend starts!–was a bit more eventful. First there was the disappointment of finding out that the Young One would not be working at the secret bar one final week. (Oh wait, I found that out Thursday and after C. told me he once again said “Are you sure there’s nothing going on between you too? You can tell me.”) But anyway, I went out with the Other Option. We went to a downtown bar hoping it would be partytime, but it was just okay. Then we went to the bar above the secret bar. A big step for me, bringing her into the world that MHE and I had occupied together for several months. She met a couple of bartenders, but the bar was fairly quiet otherwise. We played the videogame and got a few high scores. It pays to hang around with the smart ladies! Then we went back downtown. By the end of the evening she was fairly well drunky so when we got back to her place I got to drive the babysitter home. Now, in my past I’ve had to drive several babysitters home and let me say that that is one of the more awkward situations in the world. Adult guy, teenage girl–whom you hardly know (and she doesn’t really know you from anyone)–the conversations are always forced and stilted. I’m always worried that I’ll say something that comes out wrong and seems sketchy to the person. Or she’ll notice that I’ve had a few drinks and her parents will be ripshit that I drove her in that condition. So many things. Anyway, I went back to the Other Option’s for a while. Thank you, Miller Lite.

After that, I stopped down to the secret bar for a brief visit. C.–who had pledged to stay in that night–was there. Not much was going on, but it was a pleasant ending to a pleasant evening.

Saturday–roadrace day–was great. First of all, thank you to the 3,200 runners who’s fitness regime makes it possible for the other thousands of us to drink out in the streets of downtown in the middle of the afternoon! It was a bit windy that day, but after a few stops in the beer tents who’s going to notice. I won’t go into all the details except to say that MHE, more or less out of the blue, decided to stop by on her way home from errands. Well, maybe less ‘out of the blue’ because on Friday I sent her and her daughter flowers just to express how I felt about our ongoing friendship and to celebrate the most important weekend in the year in our little part of the world. (No really, that was my only goal in sending them. Honestly. I know, I know, in a way it was probably calculated to let her know that I’m the sweetest fucking thing to ever drop into her life. But, really, it was all about friendship. Oh, and I know that it could have totally backfired. But, it didn’t. End of parenthetical statement.) We stopped by a couple of bars together and had a nice chat. Just in case the current status of our being “(not a) couple” wasn’t confusing enough, she re-invited me to a Sox game in May, told me she wished we had kept the concert tickets we had and gone together as friends because “clearly, we would have had a real good time” but at the same time reiterated her desire to remain single for now. And, she asked me for a ride home the next night after the parade and the night of drinking to follow. Interesting, wha!? Oh, and she also told me that her parents were “rooting for me” and that every person she had talked to had indicated to her that I was a great guy. Clearly, though, she’s smart enough not to listen to EVERYone including her own feelings, But, hey, I think we’re both happier without the pressure of a relationship anyway. I know I’m in no real rush to jump back into that maelstrom of a heart that she has.

But, anyway, after an afternoon of drinking, I went home and napped a couple of hours and then tried to head out again around eight. But, it was clear to me that I was too tired and my head was heavy from the afternoon of drinking so I was home before I knew it…

Which is good because I had to be up at quarter to six in order to fulfill my duties to the parade. The day went smoothly. I positioned myself along the route near the location I expected MHE would be. We talked a few times briefly, had a cigarette together and, when the parade was over, headed out together. Our first stop was at the end of the route. We stopped at a bar downtown. It was fairly crowded, lots of bikers and stuff. Oh, and a tank parked out front. I wish I had my camera with me for that one.

Then we headed down to the secret bar. We had a nice time together all afternoon, hanging out, being close and flirty and all. But, in the back–or actually the front–of my mind, I knew that MHE’s goal for the day was to drink like crazy so I knew that at some point things would turn chaotic. But, for once, I didn’t really care because, as we say down at the bar, “it ain’t my turn to watch her.”

Oh, by the way, did I mention that throughout the parade and throughout the night she was wearing a green hat and a green and white boa? Please picture this at all times throughout the rest of this part of the story…

Sunday night’s chaos came in the form of attempting to solve all of her friends’ problems and, in so attempting, pissing off several people. No, MHE, ‘you really shouldn’t have told that person what I think of them’ several people were surely thinking. Or trying to tell her. But, when she’s in full chaos mode, everything she does is right–and if people get pissed off that she’s solving their problem for them, that’s their, um, problem.

And I just sat back and watched and noted it for when the time comes that I have to decide if I can really put up with her.

Finally, at some point later in the evening, her friend (whom she had watched the parade with) called. MHE, standing near the speaker blaring music, kept saying “I can’t hear you.” But, she didn’t actually think of moving away from the speaker. Then she got off the phone and said to me: “We hafta go up to her house.” (Oh, do we?) I asked why and she said something about a problem that needed fixing (thank you, god, for allowing me to not laugh hysterically), but first she needed to get another drink, “in case she doesn’t have any alcohol up at the house.” (did I ever say I would actually go there?). And then MHE decided she needed to stop upstairs–I don’t remember if she said why, but I kind of wondered if she already forgot about her mission to visit her friend. So, we went upstairs and she sat down near the pool table and, basically, was all over me. Now I’m not much for PDAs, but hey, after a sixteen hour day anything seems reasonable.

Then, hahaha, as we were headed back downstairs we ran across a young couple having a drunken argument (apparently the woman had asked a Hispanic person how to say “If I suck your dick will you lick my pussy?” in Spanish and, somehow, her boyfriend got upset about it. Oh, and he poured a drink over her head…gotta love parade day). And, MHE says to me: “Hold on a sec, I can help.” Now she started all reasonable, asking the woman if she needed a ride home, considering the anger going on. But, when the woman refused, MHE then decided to mediate and kept going back and forth between the two. It was priceless. I’ve never heard anyone quite so illogically and chaotically attempt to settle a dispute. After a few minutes I walked away to get a drink and came back after a cigarette to find her still mediating. By this point, both of them just wanted to be anywhere else but talking to her, but she kept it up, trying to show them the logic of her ways. Finally I think they made up out of frustration at not being able to get away from her.

UPDATE: I almost forget the funniest, most ironic part of her “conversation” with these people: at one point she said to them that “communication is the key to a good relationship.” Hahaha, coming from the person who dumped me without ever giving any indication that something was wrong. The person who, when I asked her what was wrong, said “Nothing. Nothing at all.” (right before the dumping) Hehehe…gotta love that stuff.

As we were headed back to the secret bar, I made an executive decision: “Time to go home.” And at first she was like “I’d like to stop inside for a minute.” But I just repeated myself and she, perhaps, saw that it indeed was time to go. On the way home, she insisted on stopping at McDonalds–”McDonalds, the Oasis of the Drunken Desert”–and I don’t remember exactly what we talked about (and I’m sure she only barely remembers the ride home). But the night was well and truly done.

On Tuesday, pool night, MHE decided to stay home because of a lot of schoolwork due the next day. I was down there with P. and, of course, most of the pool team. I won games against both P. and the Sicilian before the league started. Quite the achievement considering how much better than I they are. Not much to note from the evening except that the Cigarette Moocher was there and she added to the “number of cigarette mooched” record that she no doubt holds. Tina Feylike girl was there as well. At least MHE wasn’t there to get jealous that I once again spoke briefly with her. It was a good night, but I did miss MHE and her Tueday night flirtathon. It’s always nice to be flirted with and it’s equally funny to watch her flirt her way around the pool team. But, hey, it all is what it is until it isn’t it anymore.

Tonight, we shall see what poker night might bring. I’m marginally in charge of the bar at least for a while tonight. Of course that mostly consists of fetching things for the bartender and making sure that she gets herself out of the bar and to her car safely. It’ll be interesting to see what’s up with MHE. Can’t wait to find out what she remembers from Sunday or how she remembers it.

Should be fun.

UPDATE: We didn’t get much of a chance to talk, but the mood–as it always seems to be on Thursdays–was friendly, almost formal, rather than flirty and fun. Oh, and we have a “date” tonight. Well, I invited her to a party with friends that she wasn’t otherwise invited to,so I’m considering it a date. And when I referrred to it as a date in a text message she didn’t say otherwise, so, in my books, it’s a date. Thing is, lately a large part of me doesn’t really want to date her, given her chaoticness. But, still, the other part of me  still thinks it could work.

Crystal ball anyone?

Many Happy Returns

Well, I don’t have much to update about last night. I did see JetBlue, along with a bunch of other committee people. I have hardly seen her lately and it was nice to catch up–especially since she was 1) in pleasant conversation mode (which is all too rare); and 2) looking really cute (which isn’t always the case). But, really, no fascinating stories to tell. Then I made a semi-triumphant return to the bar up the hill. The Jilted One was bartending and gave me a big greeting. And, as I had hoped, there was a two for one special on the beers, if you know what I mean. She also told me the story of losing her other bartending job, in classic The Jilted One fashion–talking really quickly and then not stopping the story when she walked away to serve another customer. Yeah, just like the good ol’ days.

But, all in all, an uneventful night–oh shit, I almost forgot–earlier in the evening I was hanging with the kids at their house. I hear the cat make a strange meochy sound as she came up the basement stairs. So, I say to her: “What’s wrong, S.?” And, holy shite, she drops a baby mouse on the floor. That was quite the shocker, to say the least. Followed by the second shock of watching the little mofo scamper under the table. The cat followed it, content to give the little thing a couple of half-hearted swats. So, anyway, once I got over that momentary “live wild animal inside the house” shock (please note: I still suffer from PTSD related to a “live squirrel in the house” incident some years ago) I decided to try to save the cute little baby mouse. Luckily this part of the story has no drama to it. I put on a glov, carefully picked him up and put him safely outside.

It was a few minutes before it sunk in for me that I pretty much sent him to a different doom–can a young mouse care for himself outside? i don’t know. Does he know the way back into the house? Eh, don’t know. Why is that owl smirking? What stray cats will run into him? Will they show him the way home?

Oh well.

Not much else to say except that the current chapter of my life has a working title: “My Guardian Angel Carries an Icepick”

Catchy, isn’t it?

Dumbshit Puppy Dog

It’s been over a week since I posted and a busy week it’s been. Unfortunately, that’s both on the homefront and at work, so I’m hard-pressed to even give you a skeleton outline of my week. But, that’s all I can do for now. Maybe I will fill in some stories tomorrow, but, for now, this is all it is.

Last Tuesday–super-fun night with my new “friend” Ms. Hold ‘Em and the rest of the pool team. Like, to a totally weird extent–we decided that indeed we are just friends, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t have the occasional “date” as long as no relationship was implied. She even gave me a long kiss, just to check that the reason she broke up with me wasn’t about us but was just about not being in a place where any relationship seemed like a good idea (this was the reason she had finally come out with).

Thursday, poker night, the weirdest thing was that MHE came in a made an overt point of saving a seat for Mr. Asshole right next to her–the better to flirt with, I guess. That didn’t faze me but when Mr. Asshole’s girlfriend came in and sat on the other side of him–and they were all squeezed together because the table was crowded–L. the bartender and I began to laugh uproariously. I SO wanted to get a photo. Oh well, I thought, as ye sow so shall ye reap…or something like that.

On Friday, MHE and I were both at the bar (and the secret bar), mostly together, but just as “friends”. We listened to music and played pool and we held hands and got real close and she told me that she loved spending time with me…oh, but we’re still just friends.

And you wonder why men often wonder about women…

Saturday and Sunday night I had time with “The Other Option”, as I’ve now dubbed her, and it was good real good. The question I have–and this is because one of MHE’s friends said I should–is do I tell MHE about The Other Option at this point while it’s just a casual side thing? I didn’t think so, in part, because MHE dumped my ass. Oh, and I also don’t want to be seeming to be throwing it in her face.

Monday I had a meeting and a fun meeting after the meeting. D. was there with The Bank Teller, a woman that I knew previously strictly from the bank. The two of them weren’t getting along all that well so, in my pleasantly drunk state, I totally hit on her and gave her my number, all in front of D. Luckily, he doesn’t have any lasting emotions toward women, so he pretty much didn’t seem to care. I, however, felt good. She is wicked cute and probably has no interest in me, but it was nice to be flirted with for a while.

Tuesday, MHE and I had another Totally Awesome Tuesday. More feeling of we’re the most amazing (not a) couple in the world. Except there were a few twists. D. overtly flirting with MHE (payback from Monday perhaps?), D. mentioning that The Teller might be there last night in front of MHE (helping to let her know that I’m not sitting around waiting for her? or maybe another attempt at payback?), MHE getting pissingly jealous for a few moments when I was talking to Tina Feylike girl outside last night:

Two weeks ago, MHE suggested humorously that she could set me up with this woman, last night she said the exact same words but with such rancor that I was scared. But not so scared that I didn’t say: “No, thanks. My dance card is already pretty much filled.” Asshole comeback, but I decided not to appease her jealousy or to make things weird by saying “No, I love only you, godammit!” She stormed away to a corner of the deck at that point. I followed a moment later and asked her if she was okay and she said: “Oh, I was only kidding!” It wasn’t too convincing, but I let her save face. Why would she be jealous after all? She thinks this freedom stuff is great!

Anyway, let’s see, what else…oh, after that she overtly flirted with one of the pool players–sorry MHE but if I put up with that when we were together, now it was no problem at all. Oh, and at the end of the night she paid my tab. All in all, just another beautifully effed up evening in my world.

I’m really thinking I’m not going to be able to handle this type of friendship for long. Although I can talk about the chaotic part of her that recklessly does what it wants with no regard for others’ feelings for hours, I can also dwell on the amazing 90% of her that is wonderful and fun and so clearly in love with me too. And though she can be cruel and heartless if the mood suits her chaotic side, we’re just too perfect together the rest of the time. I still love her (really really deeply in my heart) but I fear that that means that I have to let her go. I don’t for a moment doubt that this is not a good time for a relationship for her and more and more I’m thinking it’s not a good time for me to get into the rut of being in this kind of love.

I don’t know. I’ll see her tomorrow. Thursday’s, even with Mr. Asshole around, though, are so much easier to handle. Well, so far at least.

I know, I know. I’m probably doomed to keep being the dumbshit puppy dog, taking the smacks and slaps because I know that every once in a while a treat will be thrown my way. Yep. That’s quite the update…