It's Tough to Have a Crush

If a person had a long-standing history of hopping out of your nice and tidy "As Good As Gay" box...

And if that person was in a relationship and off-limits...

But seemed to be verbally and physically propositioning you anyway during the time he was coupled...

And you found that person entirely attractive...



Then if that person suddenly became single, and therefore no longer off limits...

And then at a party a couple of days later, in his newly-single state, was drunkenly throwing himself at every female in sight -- EXCEPT for you...

That would suck.




And if, at said party, he made a comment about how he wanted you to lose your virginity to some random guy in London by the time your study abroad program ended...

I think you'd feel pretty justified in throwing a back-handed slap square in his chest.



(Of course, you'd apologize the next day. But it wouldn't matter, as he was so drunk that he had no recollection of anything.)



And you'd feel silly. And jealous of every girl that he preferred to you. And even sillier for feeling jealous.

And once again, you'd go back to attempting to talk yourself out of him. And try to stuff him back into that nice neat little box that he rejects so often.




May you find people to want who want you back.

~A~

I Know Better Than That

"I know better than to be friends with boys with girlfriends.
I know better than that, I know better
You'll play the victim, and I'll be the bad guy.
I know better than that, I know better"

"Boys with Girlfriends" by Meiko is about to become my new theme song. I might have to change the lyrics occasionally to fit the situation. "I know better than to be friends with boys with obsessed ex-girlfriends." "I know better than to be friends with boys who want to cheat on their girlfriends." "I know better than to be friends with boys who are occasionally having sex with my friends." That sort of thing.

There are few things I hate more than when other people say I'm something that I don't think I am, or accuse me of doing something that I don't think I've done. I'd go into a long history of things of this nature occurring in my life, but frankly, I would rather vent about current frustrations than go down a lane of unpleasant memories.

A friend of mine is non-dating a guy (I'd call it "friends-with-benefits", but I'd rather avoid the cliché). They were dating at one point, and now they've pulled it back to just being very good friends who have frequent sleepovers.

She keeps accusing me of flirting with him. Whenever there's a social gathering, and I communicate with him in any way, I upset her. And then she comes up to me (usually whispering and intoxicated) about how it doesn't matter that he's not her boyfriend, because I shouldn't flirt with him anyway, because I should know how much it hurts her when I do.

But I'm not flirting with him.

And you, dear readers, probably already know that he's in the As Good As Gay box based on the fact that he is non-dating my friend, and she clearly has strong feelings for him (or me talking to him at a party wouldn't be cause for her concern).

It just aggravates me now. Last night when she pulled me aside to confront me about my so-called flirtation (which was a conversation with him about something completely non-sexual, during which I had my arms folded across my chest, and generally most "don't touch me" looking body language I could muster), I hit her.

I meant it as a "stop being so silly" tap on the shoulder, but I guess my frustration with her manifested itself in something more ferocious than that, and I actually hurt her.

We talked about it today, and she's still upset. And even sober, she's convinced that I'm trying to steal this guy from her. WHICH I AM NOT. I DO NOT WANT HIM. I HAVE NO INTEREST IN HIM. WE ARE FRIENDS. Or, at least, we keep trying to be; she makes it difficult.

I'm not the only one she's accused of flirting with him, of course. It's just, usually, she comes complaining to me about him flirting with other girls, as opposed to confronting the girls (or him) about it. But I'm a person she feels like she can confront.

(Full disclosure: last month, on a night when he had been drinking, he did make a comment about wanting to have sex with me. But, being as how everyone down here is aware of the fact that I don't have sex, we both just kind of laughed it off. I assumed he was joking, at least partially. But it felt like I was skipping part of the story if I didn't at least mention that.)

A couple of months ago, he did something that upset her, and she brought up the problem by teasing him about it (by the way, I hate it when girls do that "drop a hint about an issue and act like it's a joke" thing. Do they really think anyone gets it? Because they generally don't). The moment she chose to do it? She interrupted a conversation that I was having at him. And then she walked away.

So he looks at me, makes a joke about it, and then says, "Do you think she's actually upset?" Knowing her, I said yes. We discussed it for a bit longer, and a little about how he might be able to put out the fire. And that was the end of our conversation that night.

About a week after that, the same situation was arising in which he had previously made the wrong decision that had upset her so much. So I sent him a text message (which I thought was a nudge-poke-light-hearted-half-joking thing) reminding him what night it was, and what action he might want to take to avoid another fire.

He was furious.

He sent me 4 angry text messages saying never to say anything like that to him again.

I apologized, and said that I meant no harm.

He sent a text apologizing for jumping on me.

When I saw him later that night, I apologized again in person. He said it wasn't my fault, that he got upset over nothing, and implied that she had already been giving him a hard time (about both that error and other things).

I feel like she's making requests (well, demands) of him that shouldn't be made unless they're in a relationship... which they're not. And I think the only reason she keeps jumping on me is just because she's more possessive than she should be.

She also once told me that he ditched her at a party to go make out with a mutual friend (which, of course, pegged several people against him for being a jerk to her), and then later admitted that she didn't actually know whether he had gone to make out with the other girl or not, but she thought he might have. (Turns out, he didn't. He went to call a drunk friend whom he'd lost track of at the party to make sure she was okay. In other words, he was being a perfectly nice person.)

I hate being made to feel like I'm the bad guy when I don't think I am. And part of me wants to get in a fight with her and tell her all the things I think she's doing wrong with this guy, but I can't. We're packed like sardines down here. You can't give anyone a piece of your mind without unpleasant ramifications.

And I know I should be the mature one. And I should just stay away from the whole situation. In my conversation with her this morning, I even offered not to talk to him anymore.

But honestly, I'm in a program of 30 people, 21 of whom I see multiple times a day, and he's one of them. I'm going to talk to him again.

****************************************************************

I took a break (i.e. about 12 hours away) from this post. In the meanwhile, I told three classmates about the conversation. Their reactions:

#1. "She needs to get over being such a controlling bitch." (And other things that were very supportive of me and very negative about her)

#2. "I can't believe she would do that to both of you. Or that she's so possessive over him." (And other supportive things.)

#3. "Seems like something that would happen to you." (And other statements about how things that I don't intend to be flirtatious are taken that way, and I need to watch my step more.)


So the jury is still apparently out on whether the problem is with me or her. I'm going to stay on my own side. I didn't do anything wrong, and I don't feel like I have anything for which to be sorry. And frankly, I'm still pretty offended.


May you stand your ground.

~A~




P.S. Hey 3rd-Year GA. If you ever read this, now you know about why I left the house last night. You were right. I did need to blog about it.

Off-Limits

(Me and friends at an opening night party on 12/04/09)


I talked to Brian tonight. He's getting deployed again. And for the longest time ever. It's going to be weird not being able to call him up. We have an incredibly (and shockingly) functional exes-who-went-back-to-being-good-friends friendship.

I talked to him tonight about the weird boy drama in my life. There are things that have happened recently that I feel like I can't talk about down here. Perhaps that I shouldn't even acknowledge.

Usually, my flirting radar is defective in the sense that I don't notice when it's going off. For so long, I've held this concept of "As Good As Gay" in my mind. To remind you (because I wrote this post long before many of you knew this blog existed)...

In the past, I have often placed men in a category that I call "As Good As Gay". For one reason or another, I have (consciously or unconsciously) deemed them off-limits, crush-wise. Reasons that a male might be put on this list include:

1. I am in a relationship. (automatically makes all other men AGAG because of my famously successful "relationship blinders")
2. He is in a relationship.
3. He is interested in another female on a level somewhere between “significant crush” and “stalker-like obsession”. (You would be surprised how many times I've come across the latter... usually it has to do with "the girl who got away")
4. One of my friends is interested in him.
5. He has previously dated one of my friends.
6. He lives far away.
7. We have never actually met in real life.
8. He's actually gay.
9. I suspect that he MIGHT be gay.
10. He is friends with one of my exes.
11. He is in my class/program. (this one was added when I came down to grad school)
12. He is under the age of 22 or over the age of 29. (I just made up this rule right now, because I think those are probably my extremes, dating-wise, at my present age of 25. Although according to this formula, I could date anywhere from 19.5-36 before things got creepy.)

And honestly, the thought of dating someone who gets labeled AGAG doesn't enter my mind. Unless he does something that changes that. Which usually involves flirting with me in an obvious manner. Or flat out telling me that 1. he wants to date me, 2. he wants to kiss me, 3. he would dump his girlfriend for me... you know. Something along those lines.

So, fine, once the switch gets flipped, all rules are off. Examples:
- I dated Ex #1, who had previously made-out with one of my best friends, and whom about 5 of my friends had crushes on before I dated... Awkward.
- I dated Ex #2, whom my then-roommate (the same girl who had made out with Ex #1) had a crush on not long before. Also, he had a crush on another girl when we started dating (which I didn't actually know about until a few weeks into dating him, but continued to date him anyway. Actually, I should thank her... Part of the reason I started this blog was because he said his crush on her developed out of his love for her blog. So thank you, blogger-chick-whom-my-ex-had-a-crush-on. You changed my life).
- I dated Brian, who was in Nebraska while I was in Chicago. Also, my crush on Brian totally began while I was dating Ex #2 (although I think I already knew things weren't going to work out with him).
- I dated The Filmmaker, who was over a 5-hour drive away... and continued dating him when he was in California, and I was in Connecticut/Florida.
- I went on a date with a 38-year-old when I was 21. (Note: After finding out that he was 38, there was no second date.)
- I kissed a guy who was a 3rd-year in my program when I was a 1st-year. (Note: this is precisely why I don't drink anymore.)


I feel wrong about going into the awkward male situations in my life at the moment... but to satisfy a little curiosity...

- Guys who are in relationships who seem to be hitting on me. (I have to write "seem to be" instead of "are obviously" because it feels somehow safer if I don't fully admit to it, even on here. It just seems so wrong... Actually, I'm only positive about one of them still being in a relationship. The other could very well have broken up with his girlfriend by now, but I'm treating him like he has one until I know otherwise.)
- Guys who have previously dated (or quasi-dated) my friends who now appear to be hitting on me.
- Guys who have hooked up with my roommate are hitting on me (including one who hit on me the same day that he had woken up at my house).
- A guy who is friends with one of my exes has a crush on me.
- A guy who is out of my self-instituted datable age range is hitting on me.

So basically, they're all off-limits, by my own definition. And normally, they'd be AGAG... but they're flipping switches all over the place, and that makes it all much harder to handle.

And there are so many thoughts that fly through my head about these things, but I can't say anything. Because I don't want to spread rumors. Because I don't want to upset anyone. And because what if I'm wrong? What if they're just being friendly, and I'm so lonely that some part of me is, dare I say it, wanting it to be something more?


I will admit to the following:

1. I like to flirt. I'm not terribly good at it. And I don't always know that I'm doing it. But okay, fine. Yes. I'm a flirt.

2. Touch is my strongest sense, according to me, my Movement Professor, and probably most of my classmates (which is unusual; people are more likely to have sight or hearing as their strongest sense). So I touch people a lot. And I acknowledge that could be construed as flirtation.

3. I have social anxiety, and touching people is actually one of my coping mechanisms. It grounds me, somehow. So in large groups of people, I find a way to work touch into conversations as much as possible. And I acknowledge that it could be construed as flirtation.

4. I am an non-discriminant cuddler, and I believe in platonic cuddling. I will cuddle with anyone, regardless of my attraction to them. And I acknowledge that it could be construed as flirtation.

5. I often dance in a suggestive manner. As a result, I have a general rule that I will only dance with people after giving them a verbal disclaimer that I dance in a suggestive manner, and that it does not mean that I want them. (I haven't danced with anyone lately, but I felt this belonged on the list because of past transgressions.)

6. I have lately been mentioning on a regular basis just how lonely I am. I actually said it on Tuesday while I was on stage in front of 22 of my schoolmates. I acknowledge in retrospect that statements like this could lead someone to believe that I am looking for offers... Which I'm not (as far as I know).

Yes, I flirt. Yes, I cuddle. Yes, I encourage people to touch me. And yes, I'm guilty of more than I'll be admitting on the internet tonight.

And I realized something particularly horrible about myself yesterday. Brace yourself:

Sometimes it feels safer to flirt with people who are unattainable.

Because really, I don't want to be in a relationship right now. I don't want to become "...and Angela". I don't. So as stupid as it is, I think I'm actually MORE likely to flirt with people in relationships. Or, at the very least, I'm likely to flirt BACK when they initiate it. I don't always realize that I'm doing it at the time, but I see it retrospectively.

But in my defense:

1. I once slapped a guy who had a girlfriend who said "kissin' ain't cheatin'" and tried to kiss me in his car. And I plan to do the same to any future non-single guy who attempts to make any sort of move on me. I do not condone cheating, and I will not be a part of it. Period. (NOTE TO BOYS: The difference between cheating on a girlfriend and not cheating is picking up a phone and breaking up with her first. If you're not willing to do that, then you shouldn't be trying to hook up with anyone but her.)

2. I very directly stated to TWO of the guys hitting on me that I am not going to sleep with them. (Which, frankly, they should have realized, as they are both well aware of my lack of a sexual past.)

3. I very directly stated to one of them that nothing is going to happen between us because he has a girlfriend.

4. As soon as I (very recently) found out a guy had a past quasi-relationship with a friend of mine, I stopped talking to him. Out of sight, out of mind.


I was talking to a classmate yesterday very vaguely about the things I've mentioned here. She basically said.
1. She thinks I'm an attention whore.
2. She doesn't think that what I actually want is someone to cuddle with (which I've been thinking would be the solution to my physical-loneliness problem), because she thinks I could easily get that if I wanted it. She thinks the issue is more complicated that that.

I don't think of myself as an attention whore. Although, I am a blogger, so that's not exactly evidence to the contrary.

But maybe she's right on the cuddle buddy issue.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okay, I suddenly got a feeling of déjà vu as I was typing this post, so I took a break and I checked over my archives... And I found a post that I actually deleted after the initial posting (well, "Saved as Draft", if you want to get technical) that I wrote 11 months ago. A post where I mentioned the very same "kissin' ain't cheatin'" story, in fact. A post where I wrote about 4 guys who were interested in me under strange circumstances.

And that deleted post involves one of the very same people that I'm writing this post about. I actually wrote, "...it has been strange for me to be around him. Less comfortable than normal. I guess that night flipped the switch. Maybe he's no longer easily fitting into my tidy little label of As Good As Gay."

Which means his switch was flipped way back then. And then he went back into AGAG territory (probably around the time of The Filmmaker, if not The Engineer). And here we are again, at the end of the year that we started off in an awkward position.

The deleted post was deleted for a reason... but Past Angela just surprised Present Angela with this:

"But I'm not going to lie: I liked it. More than I'd like to admit. If he were single, I probably would've let things go in a different direction that night."

OH. MY. WORD.

I don't even want him! I don't! I swear! He's wrong for me, I'm wrong for him, we're wrong for each other. And IF he's intending to hit on me as he has been, I'm sure it's purely out of his need for chasing unattainable sexual conquests, and not because he's interested in me on a romantic level, and I have no desire to be used in such a manner.

But, man, the game is fun sometimes. Maybe it's because I know it's not going anywhere. Maybe that's why it feels safe. Maybe that's why. And it's got to stop. I have to stop flirting with him. Have. To. Stop. Now.

I'm leaving for a couple of weeks. To Connecticut, with my family, where I'll be working, and in a state where the only males I know that I'm not related to are over the age of 50. A state in which there is absolutely zero potential for flirtation.

I told Brian that. I thought this hiatus from temptation would be a good thing. He thinks the opposite. He thinks that as soon as I come back, my emotional baggage is going to explode after having been packed away for weeks. I hope he's wrong, but I'm not sure if he is.

So here we are. Another un-concluded post. *sigh*


May you be able to stay within your limits.

~A~



P.S. Don't you wish I blogged more? If I get a 20SB Bootleg Award Nomination, I'll try to do just that. :) My 20SB URL is http://www.20sb.net/profile/angelaboration

P.P.S. After this post, I thought it appropriate to throw in a quotation from one of my favorite book series...

"The tales we tell ourselves about ourselves make us who we are... and who we might be."
~ Jessica Darling, "Perfect Fifths" by Megan McCafferty


P.P.P.S. I ate an entire bag of Christmas-colored sour gummy bears while composing this post. And they were delicious.

Uncrushed Basketcase

("Two Shots Up", "Killer", and Me at a party on Sunday)

I've been a basket-case all week. I think I've cried about 4 times, including through half of my acting class today (which was so uncomfortable... for everyone).

And I don't even really know why. I think it's just that everything started building up. I cried reading a play. I cried talking to my roommates. I cried through half of my acting class today for no apparent reason. I think it's all out of my system now, but I've been wearing my emotions for the last 72 hours.

I've been debating how much of my school existence to put on here. On the one hand, I really don't want anyone from school to find this blog and stumble upon things that I don't want them to know (they all know I'm a blogger, but I directed them towards my other blog, so that they won't come looking for this one. So far, so good... On the other hand, I really want to be able to blog about this stuff, as that's the way I deal with most of my problems...

Anyway, I guess this post is my test run, to see how comfortable (or not) I am with this sort of stuff. Wish me luck.


I think I'm a pretty smart cookie, but it's getting me into trouble. I monopolized a class discussion on Oedipus on Tuesday (but honestly, I was frustrated, fired up, and speaking in an intelligent manner the entire time... I think my professor appreciated it, but I don't know it my classmates were okay with it or not). I challenged a couple of my classmates' opinions in voice class (which we were encouraged to do by the professor) and they seemed offended (especially when I was right). And I'm worried that I might get a reputation for being intellectually prickly, which is the last thing I want.

Also, I think I offended a professor this week. Actually, potentially two professors. Why? Because I don't much like dogs and was pretty vocal about it... and they both happen to have dogs that they treat like their children. And the one professor told the other professor about it. And the whole 2nd-year class is mad at me because now the one professor isn't going to bring in her dog to class this year like she did last year as a result of it. Gah! I don't think I should have to be sorry for not wanting a dog in my voice class while I'm doing relaxation exercises. She asked if dogs make anyone uncomfortable, and I didn't think I should have to lie and act like I love them.

Whatever.

It's just been a long week.

And on top of that drama, AND all the school work I'm doing, there is the social aspect of things. And that, as one would expect, is complicated.

I went to a party on Sunday that was held at the house of two people who are donors for the program that I'm at. They had an open bar and a hot tub, so I think we all knew that there were going to be weird situations that arose by the end of the night. Let's just say that I have a lot of pictures that didn't make it to Facebook.

Two of my classmates looked like they were about 5 seconds away from making out THE ENTIRE NIGHT. He seemed to have forgotten that he has a SERIOUS girlfriend (who is moving down here for him in a few months). It was making me hideously uncomfortable.

Another of my classmates with a girlfriend was acting single, in what I'm sure was an alcohol-induced string of bad decisions. He tried to seduce my roommate. He leaned down and kissed my breast mid-conversation (COMPLETELY INAPPROPRIATE!!!). I'm pretty sure I saw him kiss a 2nd-year. And by the end of the night, he'd gotten into a fist-fight with a 3rd-year in a hot tub. (That was actually when I decided it was time for me to leave...)

As you may recall, all the males in my class are out-of-bounds for one reason or another. One is married, four are in serious relationships, one is gay, and one only dates "big booty hoes who like to freak" (which does not describe any of the females in this program).

One of the guys in my class is really awesome, and I really want to become good friends with him. He and I have similar tastes and a lot in common. I wrote on his facebook wall back in the summer that I had decided that he and I would be best friends once we got down here. But I haven't gotten that many opportunities to hang out with him. I finally did at this party, where he was appropriately intoxicated.

I talked with him a bunch, and he's just as cool as I thought he would be. In fact, I think I actually prefer him with booze in his system. The Drunk version is even funnier, cooler, and more adorable than the Regular version (I said the entirety of that sentence to someone else about him while standing directly next to him at one point). It was like Jim Carrey in The Mask. Regular him, but to the nth degree (I said that to him). Loved it.

For the record, I do not want to jump him. I think he's fascinating and awesome, but I think that in an "oh my God, we need to be best friends" kind of way, not an "I want his balls" kind of way. A completely non-sexual sort of crush. Also, I should reiterate that he has a girlfriend whom he seems very serious about. Therefore, I haven't been concerned about him crossing out of "As Good As Gay" territory.

Moving on (I swear there was a point to all of that)...

Okay, so in class on Tuesday, we had this exercise where you had to ambush your partner with a question as the class watched. First, you were supposed to clear your mind, then make a silent connection with the partner, and then ask a question based off of what you received from the partner.

One of the ambush scenarios between my classmates went something like this...
ONE: Do you want to be here?
TWO: No. This is just school. It's not interesting.
ONE: Then why are you here?
TWO: Because it's free.

I'll allow you to imagine how upset I was by that. I'm offended that there is someone in my class who is not grateful to be in this program. He takes it for granted. I don't think he even much likes it. This, I maintain, is the problem with people going to grad school straight out of undergrad: they don't appreciate it as much. It just seems like more of the same.

ETA: I realize that this does not apply to ALL people who go to grad school straight out of undergrad. I was still bitter when I wrote those words.

Anyway. I had to ambush the cool guy from my class directly after that. I had to work hard to clear my mind. If I hadn't, I'm sure I would've asked him "Are you resentful that someone in our class doesn't want to be here?", because that's what was really on my mind.

But I looked at him. And I thought about him performing magic tricks. And his ability to throw cards like weapons. And how he tells these crazy stories at parties. He's kind of a natural entertainer... And suddenly I wondered if he knew that those were the things that I associated with him. So I decided to ask, but it didn't come out the way I intended.

And so, sitting a couple of feet away from him, locking eyes with him, with the entire class watching, I asked, "How do you think I feel about you?"

He stared at me with a look of disbelief and started to blush. He didn't answer for about 5 seconds, which seemed way longer than it was. And in those 5 seconds, I knew what was going through his head. And I couldn't help but wonder if my classmates saw the same thing...

He totally thinks I have a crush on him.

Frak.

And the way the question came out of my mouth (as I replayed it over and over in my head) sounded somewhat flirtatious.

Double frak.

He stumbled over his words for a second. He ended up saying something about how he thought that I thought we had a lot in common, and that I looked to him as someone who could be my buddy... but his eyes told me that he was censoring himself. My professor saw it, too, (based on the way he was choosing his words so carefully as he answered) and called him out on it.

Some of my classmates complimented the question, as it clearly ambushed him in exactly the way we were supposed to. He was shocked by the question and couldn't answer it without becoming intrinsically focused, at least momentarily. It was probably one of the most successful questions of the entire exercise (and we spent at least 90 minutes on this).

The professor, unsatisfied with his self-censoring, made me ambush him again. And then again after that.

Finally, he ambushed me.

HIM: Do you find security in your hair?
ME: ... Sometimes.
HIM: Is that why you're afraid to cut it?
ME: ... Maybe. Partially.

The professor moved on from there. I didn't say what I wanted to say. I censored myself. I just didn't get caught.

What I should've said?

No. I'm afraid to cut my hair because I'm worried I won't be beautiful if I do. I'm afraid that men won't find me attractive. That's the real reason that I'm not going to cut it.

To go deeper... It probably has something to do with the men from my past. Pretty much all of them have had a thing for my hair. For example, if I cut my hair off and Brian stopped thinking I was beautiful... I don't think I could handle it.

How pathetic is that?

Obviously, I felt weird saying any of that in front of my class. Especially to this new pseudo-friend of mine, in light of the other ambush question that I had just asked him. Which is dumb. Particularly because I know that he prefers short hair on girls, so me saying that might have actually made him feel less like I wanted to jump him.

Oh well.

I actually went and apologized to my professor after class for not being open on that exercise. But I felt so weird about the earlier ambush question... And so vulnerable from the second.

Anyway. I still feel weird about the whole first-ambush thing. I don't know how much the rest of the class picked up on. I don't know how much they know about me telling him repeatedly that we're destined to be friends. I don't know if they know how many pictures I took of me and him at that party. I don't know if he even remembers that I called him cute and funny at the party (which I did NOT mean as flirting... I meant it sort of in a brother/sister way). I don't know if anyone else thought that I was flirting with him when I asked that question. I don't know if they noticed him blushing and pieced together why. I DON'T KNOW.

I feel awkward. Way awkward.

Maybe it was all in my head. Maybe he knows that I only think of him as a friend, and I'm completely over-reacting. I have, after all, been known to over-think things from time to time.

But in that moment? Horrible.



So there's one more thing I should mention about that party on Sunday...

I believe I mentioned that there's a guy who works for the theatre whom I thought might be flirting with me. Well, apparently he confessed to his roommate that he has a crush on a different girl in my class. I'm not sure how I felt about that when I first found out... Not really relieved, not really jealous, not really offended... But not apathetic, either. I felt something about it... Just nothing identifiable.

Anyway. Since I had learned that he was interested in someone else, I was able to mentally file him under "As Good As Gay". And I ended up having a long conversation with him at the party. And, unless I'm mistaken, I think he was kind of flirty... And I may have been flirty back... By the end of the night, he'd offered to cook me dinner and said he wanted to take me camping (both of those subjects arose organically and didn't sound like skeezy pick-up lines, I swear). As the conversation continued, he made both sound more like "group gatherings", but I couldn't help but wonder if there was something else implied. He wasn't asking me on a date, was he?

So Tuesday after class, I heard his roommate (one of my classmates) talking to the classmate of mine that he is rumored to have a crush on. He invited her to dinner at his place, saying "[roommate] has been itching to cook dinner for someone other than just me." So maybe I'm completely over-thinking the dinner and it really was just a friend thing. Or did he get his roommate to ask this particular girl because he has a thing for her?...

So, yeah. I feel weird about the classmate who thinks I might have a crush on him. And I also feel weird about this guy who may or may not be flirting with me. I actually feel more uncomfortable about two of the guys here who are really nice to me and I genuinely like than I feel about the guy who kissed my breast or the guy who thinks I'm trying to rape him with my hugs. That's some bizarre psychology, isn't it?

See, this is why I can't get involved with anyone here. I'm not even CLOSE to being involved with anyone, and it's already awkward and uncomfortable. Blergh.

It's so much better to just stay uncrushed.


May your non-sexual crushes not get complicated.

~A~

One Week In

("The Pro" -- one of my non-sexual crushes -- and "Disco")

One week done.

I've already learned stuff. And I'm already pretty darn tired.

I have favorites within my classmates. Which I wish I didn't, as we're supposed to be an ensemble... But I'm human. I like all of them, but I have non-sexual crushes on like 5 of them. They're such cool people.

Don't worry, I'm not in any danger of breaking the resolutions I made about not getting involved with people from my class. There are 7 males. 1 is married, 4 are in relationships, 1 is gay, and the last one is NOT my type at all. So making them all "As Good As Gay" hasn't been as difficult as I worried it might be.

("D-Train" -- another of my non-sexual crushes)

As one of my eagle-eyed readers pointed out (way to go, bFlat), there were only 11 people in my class picture, and I said my class is 12. Well, my class WILL BE 12. One of my classmates started school here two years ago and left because of some family problems. She is coming back to the program and will be joining my class, but she already had grades for her first semester, so she won't be getting down here until November or December. So my class is temporarily one member short.

My class is filled with intelligent, interesting people. I'm grateful for that. And I like each and every one of them as an individual. I really mean that.

But man, classes with all of them are going to be a challenge.

As is to be expected with any group of creative persons, we have a lot of large personalities. We are going to butt heads a lot. And we have a couple of people in the class who often pick up the role of devil's advocate. Things get tense sometimes.

As for me? I'm doing alright. Tuesday was a good day (but the first day of school always is). Wednesday was a bad day (I felt stupid the whole day). Thursday was a very, very good day (I kicked butt at everything, despite the day lasting 12 hours and being completely exhausted at the end of it). Friday was a very bad day (although it started off quite well... just ended abysmally).

Yesterday went bad during our last class of the day when there was a major schism in our class regarding our course of study. The professor (nicest man ever) was so flustered and upset by it that he actually ended class 15 minutes early. Yeah. Bad.

I came home and discussed the entire situation with my roommates. Being able to talk it out with them reminded me how fortunate I am to be living with students who understand the program, but who are in different classes than I am. They told me that I was looking at everything from a mature perspective and handling it well. It made me feel a bit better about the whole thing.

Luckily, my day did improve from there.

My grad school program works in conjunction with an "Adopt-A-Student" donor program. Depending on the level of contribution, some students have 1 donor, and some have 8. They're the reason we don't have to pay tuition. When I was originally looking at the program, I wasn't really sure what to make of it... But after speaking with the students, I lost all reservations. Basically, your donors become like a second family for you in Florida.

I met my donors last night, and they are WONDERFUL. I have two donors, who are a married couple. They're probably around 70, they never had children, and they're "low-profile" philanthropists. They're incredibly intelligent, down to earth, funny, and caring. They wanted to know everything about what I'm learning, and were so proud to be connected to my education. They love the arts. They want to know every time I'm involved in any production down here, even if I'm on tech crew, because they want to know what I'm up to and be able to discuss it with me later. How sweet are they?

I feel so blessed to have sponsors that I really connected with. I now have one more reason to succeed here: I want to make them proud.

I have a real weekend this weekend. It's the first time I've had a real weekend since... April, I think. Before I was in TnT. I've been completely lazy all day, and it has been glorious. I've spent more time singing showtunes at my roommate than being productive.

We're having a musical theatre workshop with a big impressive Broadway man at the end of the semester, so I'm trying to pick a song to sing for that. So far, here are my front-runner options (in case anyone cares):

- "I Get a Kick out of You", Anything Goes
*- "Stranger to the Rain", Children of Eden
*- "Here I Am", Dirty Rotten Scoundrels
- "As We Stumble Along", The Drowsy Chaperone
- "Life with Harold", The Full Monty
- "Always a Bridesmaid", I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change!
- "Mama Will Provide", Once on This Island
- "Happily Ever After", Once upon a Mattress
- "Hold On", The Secret Garden
- "Unexpected Song", Song & Dance
*- "Let Me Come Home", The Wedding Singer
*- "Old Fashioned Love Story", The Wild Party (Lippa)
- "One Hundred Easy Ways", Wonderful Town

(* = leading candidates... and yes, I'm a belter)

I think my roommate might end up singing "Stars & the Moon" from Songs for a New World, which I massively love. I've heard that songs from last year included "I'm Not Afraid of Anything" (Songs from a New World), "See, I'm Smiling" (The Last 5 Years), "There's a Fine, Fine Line" (Avenue Q), and "Old Man River" (Show Boat).

I'm going to try to convince my schoolmates to go out to karaoke with me tomorrow night. Hopefully, I'll get a few bites... I just really want to go out to a bar, not drink, but still have fun. And karaoke usually hits the spot for me... We'll see.

All in all, not a bad first week. I'm still thrilled to be here. I'm a little bit terrified, but I know that everything is going to work out in the end.


May the end be even better than the beginning.

~A~

The Woodwork

On Friday nights, before the performance of TnT, there is a rehearsal. The director attends and runs the choreographed and scripted parts of the show over and over again, working out any kinks.

If an actor has stopped connecting with the material and gone on auto-pilot, he'll make him repeat the monologue 15 times in a row, giving him direction until it becomes believable again. It's painful to watch, and I'm sure it's embarrassing for the actor, but it's the right thing to do. Otherwise, doing a long-running show can become mechanical and lose its humanity.

Apparently, the director had to ask the stage manager to remind him what my name was at the rehearsal, but he knew who I was. And, for the duration of the rehearsal, he gave me a character to watch: Sister Terry.

That's right, I said Sister. I watched the nun.

Not necessarily the role I was dying for, but I was so happy to have a character to watch that I didn't care much.

Sister Terry is Tina's cousin. I can't tell you much about the character without ruining things for you if you should come see the show. Let's just say that there's a bit of "nun gone (mildly) wild" during the reception. So that'll be fun.

Of course, watching a character in rehearsal is NOT the same as being assigned a character. I haven't gotten a character book yet, and being switched to another character to watch is entirely possible. We'll see what happens.

I'm just glad the director knows my name now.

As a side note, an EXTREMELY ATTRACTIVE GUY started flirting with me as "Carmella" during TnT last night. The kind of guy that I could never, ever get in real life. *sigh* And yes, I know he was flirting with Carmella and not with me, and only because it was a character in a show and was entertaining for him... But still. Made me feel AWESOME.

But anyway...

I've been extremely social the last couple of weeks. Trying to distract myself from over-thinking things, perhaps. Going out so that I don't stay in. Because when I stay in, I get stuck inside my head. And that's not a fun place to be locked.

When I say I've been social lately, I mean that I've been hanging around a lot of random guys. I don't really have any core group of friends in Chicago that I hang out with regularly. I've spent so much time in my own little world between blogging, novel-ing, acting, grad-school-prepping, metaphysically dating... I never really noticed that I don't have friends. It didn't bother me, I suppose.

Frankly, the vast majority of the phone calls I've made since August have been to a certain cell phone in Nebraska. And that was enough for me.

Now that things are different, I guess I've needed people more. And I don't know where they've all been hiding, but they're here now that I need them. I don't know how many of them are friends, but they're close enough.

People have been really supportive and wanting to buy me drinks and go out for lunch and things. And most of those people happen to be male.

I've always been better at making friends with males than females. Maybe it's because I have brothers. Maybe it's just because I'm not a particularly feminine girl. Not to say I have no female friends. I do have Megan, after all. And Anna. But I rarely talk to either of them these days.

Last week, I wondered when the men would come out of the woodwork...

You might think to yourself, "Didn't she just say males keep buying her drinks and asking her to go out to meals?"

And you'd be right. But I didn't think that they were the Woodwork Guys. They just happened to be guys. Who happened to start hanging out with me lately. After I happened to become single. Coincidence.

But then I remembered something about myself...

I am generally dense when it comes to guys flirting with me and/or being interested in me.

No, seriously. A guy would be so much better off taping a sign to his chest that said, "I'm flirting with you" than attempting to actually flirt. I just completely miss it.

Adding to my inability to pick up on things is the fact that all the males I know are presently under the label "As Good As Gay" (which I discussed the rules for in Flipping the Switch). Why? Because regardless of what the quasi-relationship I've been in for the last several months was, I treated it like a relationship. And therefore I had relationship blinders on. When I'm involved with someone, EVERY OTHER MALE becomes "As Good As Gay". That's just how I operate. Due to the fact that these guys have not successfully "flipped the switch" yet, I'm oblivious to whatever advances they may be making.

Unless a NEW male were to approach me (one who had not already been lumped under the mental label), I'd miss it.

So I started thinking about things that had happened, and this weekend I started paying more attention to things as they were happening. And I think I'm picking up some flirtation and interest (it's possible I'm reading too much into things, as it is me... but when it comes to this topic, I doubt it) coming from a few directions... I think that the Woodwork Guys are there. I just didn't notice them.

But there's a problem: some of these guys were AGAG for other reasons. These males have certain qualities that ring as red flags on my AGAG radar. Things like:

- He has a girlfriend
- We work together
- He lives far away

No good. No good at all.

I think one of them may have asked me out. I think that was his intention, although at the time I thought it was more of a, "We should hang out sometime, buddy" kind of thing. Yes, I'm blind. But he's AGAG...

And even if these problems didn't exist, I don't know that I'd want to be pursuing anything now anyway. I'm leaving. And many of the people I interact with on a regular basis have no idea that I'm leaving (the TnT people... not telling them until middle of July, I think).

Actually...

To be completely and totally honest...

The moving thing is just an excuse.

The truth is, I don't think I want to date someone new.

I'm not ready.

I'm not mad anymore.
I'm not even sad anymore.
But I'm still not healed.

I'd just be making mental comparisons the whole time and realizing that the new guy didn't measure up. That he wasn't what I wanted. Because I know what it is that I want. And it isn't some random new guy. It's something that I can't have.

I'm still talking myself out of wanting it.

Makes me wonder why that one guy asked me out. Doesn't he know that I'm still in recovery mode? That I'm still working through some issues in my head? That my heart isn't healed, and I don't know when it will be? Just seems like logic to me.

Still, I guess it's nice that these Woodwork Guys exist. It makes me feel like maybe I am still desirable, even though I don't always feel that way.


May you notice when people start coming out of the woodwork,

~A~


P.S. ♫ And from the first to the last time, the signs said 'Stop', but we went on whole-hearted. It ended bad, but I love what we started. ♫ ~ Fiona Apple, "Parting Gift"

Cuddle Bunny

(Picture taken 02/29/08, in the city where I'll be attending graduate school. You should be very jealous right about now.)

The last week has been marked by the following events.

- I saw 5 plays in 7 days. And, shockingly against the odds, none of them was bad.
- I guest-blogged for two people (hence my missing post this week... I figured I'd covered it. And I think both of my guest posts are pretty great, so please go read them if you haven't done so yet).
- I became completely and totally obsessed with Lost, finishing seasons 2 & 3 in a week (well, technically I'll be done with season 3 on Monday night -- I saved one episode for myself in an effort to stretch it out a bit longer).
- I changed my relationship status on Facebook to "It's Complicated" (because, let's face it, it is).
- I have put off figuring out how to do my taxes for another week (but I did pick up the necessary forms from my old temp agency so that I can properly do them).
- I got my application and acceptance letter from grad school (I have already been made an offer, but I have to apply to the school as a formality).
- I had a really great cuddling session with a platonic friend.

And now I'll just expound upon that last point (because if I explored all of them, you'd be reading for the next several hours, and I wish to spare you that grief).

On Saturday night, my friend Mike's band was playing in a Battle of the Bands (I have previously mentioned Mike in my post So Close). And his band effing rocks. They won their night in the first round. Last night was the second round (in which the competition was exponentially more talented), and they came in second in the night. This means that they are officially qualified for classy elite third round. I'm so proud of him!

(NOTE: For the handful of you reading my novel-in-progress blog, I have to mention that the character of Sam is NOT based on Mike. I've never even mentally cast him in the role. But yes, upon editing it I've recognized a couple of similarities -- namely that he's in a band and I think of him as a brother)

(NOTE: If you are not reading my novel-in-progress blog and you would like to, leave your email address in the comments section. It's an invite-only soiree. Very exclusive.)

At the end of the night, Mike made a comment that we hadn't had a good cuddle session in awhile (I think the last one was in July. He was drunk. We were lying down on a narrow couch in a room full of people. And we were watching Shaun of the Dead at the time). I think he craved that physical closeness as much as I did. And so he and I headed to an apartment that some of his friends live in, and we crashed on a giant, sinfully comfortable air mattress. And it was glorious.

I love cuddling more than I can possibly say. And I'm a completely indiscriminate cuddler. I'll cuddle with men, women, gays, straights, I don't care. Most nights, I cuddle with a pillow or two, pretending that there is a human sleeping next to me.

Cuddling is particularly enjoyable when it's with someone who fits you. I don't mean personality-wise; I mean it in a completely physical sense. Some people's bodies just fit together well. Like legos. Or puzzle pieces. And other people... well, it's like trying to put two Slinkies together; you end up with a big tangled mess. Or sometimes, it's like a Slinky and a Rubik's Cube; two things that have no business being near each other in the first place and are better off alone.

But my As-Good-As-Gay friend Mike happens to be a very good cuddle match for me. Supreme. He's definitely in the top three best cuddle-partners of my life. In fact, he might win the title. He's that good.

He and I are mysteriously able to avoid all of the "awkward arm placement" scenarios that arise when I cuddle with other people. I'm not entirely sure how it works... I find it's best not to over-analyze these things. Besides, if I thought too hard about it, I'd be trying to recreate the experience with every other cuddle-buddy I ever tried out, and that would ruin half the fun. (Besides, if extraordinary cuddling is to be had, I think it's something that has to arise spontaneously.)

And perhaps the best part about cuddling with Mike is that, because we don't get into awkward positions, there's never a time when either of us pulls away. I have a tendency to wake up a lot in the middle of the night (curséd insomnia). I wake up less than normal if there's good cuddling taking place. And with Mike, whenever I do wake up, he's holding me. That's a beautiful thing.

Now, I'm not saying that this is always for the best. I understand a "squeeze-roll-and-release" move if you're having trouble sleeping. That's cool. Do what you have to do. I understand. I'm just saying it's nice when you find someone you don't have to do that with.

Ex #2 was a self-proclaimed "sensational cuddler" (I thought that was a notable adjective, so I remembered it). But then when I cuddled with him? No. Not sensational. Not remarkable in any way. Actually pretty terrible. The body match was mediocre at best. He wasn't attentive at all. And he always ended up on the other side of the bed (which, in a twin bed, is a bad sign). And then he accused me of being a terrible cover-hog (which I am) and singing in my sleep (which I still don't believe that I actually do).

For the record, Mike has never accused me of being a cover-hog. Probably because I'm not tossing and turning all night when I'm wearing another person like a blanket. I wrapped myself up in Mike, so I didn't need to grab the sheets.

Ex #1 was a good cuddler, save for one thing: he always wanted to be the little spoon. Not good. I'm 5'6". He's 6'2". He was a bigger sort of guy, and I was a tiny sort of girl (at the time... that was before I packed on my hibernation weight). The spoon position is really only going to work well in one configuration. And him being the little spoon? That wasn't it.

It's also not good when people think that spooning is the only way to cuddle. I prefer to mix it up a bit. I have about 3 preferred cuddling positions, but to try to explain them in typed form would only prove inaccurate... They're really so much better when demonstrated. And since I can't do that here... I guess you'll just have to imagine.

I wonder if there's some sort of reference book for good cuddling. A "Cuddle Sutra", if you will. Maybe I should write one...

I hope I'm a good cuddler. I've never really questioned it. I mean, I love cuddling. And I'm sort of a connoisseur of cuddlers... But how can I possibly gauge my own abilities? I suppose it's impossible. Particularly since I have no idea what other people look for in their cuddle-buddies. I only know what I myself look for...

So, in case you missed the memo, here are Angela's rules to cuddling:
- Do cuddle with people that you have completely platonic relationships with, provided you're clear about intentions beforehand
- Don't try to cuddle with people who don't want to be cuddled with
- Do tell someone if you get into one of those "awkward arm" scenarios and your circulation is being cut off
- Don't attempt to be the little spoon if you're clearly the bigger person
- Do consider holding on instead of rolling over
- Don't feel like you have to stay in the same position all night long (it's okay to reposition... or to separate yourself if you're having trouble getting comfortable)


May you find someone who fits you.

~A~

So Close

(ETA: Recommended listening for this post: "Konstantine" by Something Corporate")


I almost got emotional on the L on my way home from work.

He called.

Ex-boyfriend #1 called.

On Valentine's Day, but not for the obvious reasons.

I haven't heard his voice since June 9th, 2007: the day I broke his heart. The day I set mine free.

Actually... I was the one who decided to break things off, but he broke my heart, too. By not being the person he had been. The person I thought he was. The person I wanted him to be.

I broke up with him over the phone. It may sound harsh, but it was a long distance relationship, and several of our problems stemmed from how infrequently we saw each other. We had been so close, but the distance had put too much strain on things. And I was ready to get out of that relationship. In many ways, I think it was holding me back and preventing me from enjoying things in life.

He was understandably very upset. He told me not to contact him. He said he'd contact me when he was ready.

At first, it was hard not to call him. He was, after all, my best friend.

Around September, I started freaking out because I hadn't heard from him. I actually wrote to a good friend of his to ask her how he was doing. She verified that he was fine, and assured me that he would call me eventually.

Since then, we've had a few mild touches of contact. A couple of text messages to send holiday wishes. A song dedication on Facebook. A birthday present. But that's it.

By the end of November, I was just angry. And I hated that people kept telling me to give him time. I hated that they acted like he was some sort of victim. The moment that hurt the most came from a girl I barely know. She knew my ex, and when I told the story about how he had sent me a CD for my birthday with a card that implied he wasn't ready to talk with me, she said, "Gosh, he's such a nice guy." And she did it with a facial expression that I read as, "How could you do that to him?"

I looked her in the eye and said, "Believe me, if there is ANYONE who knows how great he is, it's me. But we just weren't meant to be."

For some reason, no one understood how much he'd hurt my by cutting me out of his life.

I may have dumped him, but he disowned me.

He screwed up my life, too.

In the three months after I broke up with him, I gained 20 pounds. I dated his opposite. I spent a great deal of time throwing emotions in the general direction of his hometown. Grief. Pity. Empathy. Anger. All in silence, because he had decided to cut me off.

And finally, in December, I decided I just didn't care anymore.

I thought I was over him about a week after I broke up with him. But that wasn't true. I knew I didn't want to be dating him anymore. I knew I had made the right decision. But I was so angry. And the opposite of love isn't hate; it's indifference. I suppose I truly got over him then. In December. Six months after we had broken up.

I've heard that it takes half the length of a relationship to get over someone. I was faster than that. We dated for two years, and it took me six months.

And then something happened.

Something that terrified me.

Something that made it clear that I had to talk to him again.

You see, my ex is currently getting his Master's degree at Northern Illinois University right now. And his mother works there as well.

And on Thursday, Valentine's Day, there was a shooting there.

I read about it while I was at work. But what could I do?

My mother called me.

"Call him."

"No. I can't call him."

"Call him!"

"Mom, I'm not calling him. He doesn't want me to call him."

I sent him a text message asking if he was alright, not knowing whether that over-stepped any boundaries.

And then he called me.

"Hi, Sweetie," he said. Out of habit, I suppose. It shocked me.

He and his mother were both on campus at the time of the shootings, but they're both fine.

I told him I was glad that he was alright, and that I had to get off the phone to catch the L.

"That's fine."

"It's really good to hear your voice."

"Yeah. You too. I'll call you soon."

"I hope you do."

*******************************************

I don't really know if I want him to call. I don't know what I'd say to him. I feel like I'd have to censor out a lot. While we were dating, he always had a hard time hearing about other males in my life. Stories involving other guys hitting on me. Hanging out with other guys when he wasn't around. Or hearing about other guys in general. On occasion, I thought his jealousy was his way of joking, but I think it ran deeper than that. I think that on some level, he was terrified that he was going to lose me to another guy.

Part of the reason I broke up with him was that I was sick of censoring myself. He asked me not to tell him any stories about going to bars with guys in the cast of the play I was in. I wanted to tell my best friend, my boyfriend didn't want to know, and I had the unfortunate circumstance of having the same person playing both roles in my life.

I don't want to hurt him any more than I already have. So I can't tell him about ex-boyfriend #2 (whom I started dating less than two weeks after breaking up with him). And I can't tell him about Brian. And, well, those have been two pretty significant things that have happened to me in the time since we broke up. Especially the Brian part.

But it's not just relationships. I'd have to leave out Ian. And Ricky. And John. And half of my coworkers. And every other male presence in my life. And if I do that, well, then, I sound like a hermit with no friends, a.k.a. a person who's obviously hiding something.

I can't help it. I always have more male friends than female ones. It's just the way I operate. I remember the night before I left to move into college for my freshman year, I decided to have a bunch of friends over to my house. I called them all to invite them. Phil, Sean, Jeffrey, Nyal, Jim, Mike, Paul, Steve... and Whitney. I remember thinking, "Dear God, what have I done?!" I grew up with brothers. I'm not as good at being friends with girls as I am with guys (although I suppose it's worth pointing out that only a couple of the guys from the aforementioned list are straight... but still).

In college, I found the men. Luckily, there were a few handy co-ed colleges very close by, and so it wasn't difficult. And I can easily say that my two best friends in college were named Mike and Greg. They were the kinds of guys I needed to save my sanity. Greg once skipped going to a Blessid Union of Souls concert so that he could help me study for a test. Mike once took me out dancing the night before I had two papers due, because he could sense how stressed out I was. Greg took me to play mini-golf. Mike to me to an OK Go concert (before they were viral break-out stars). In retrospect, it seems we had all the perks of dating without actually having to make a commitment. And it worked out very nicely. For awhile, at least.

My ex quickly bonded with Mike, sensing that there was no threat there. Although I had a crush on Mike for about 5 seconds, it had quickly been crushed the night I found myself holding his forehead as he vomited in a drunken stupor, weeping about another girl. I used to refer to Mike as the older brother I never had. We fight, both in argument and wrestling. We make fun of each other. And the thought of us ever being anything other than just friends... oh yuck. Feels like incest. In summation, Mike is the definition of "As Good As Gay".

But my ex never bonded with Greg. Probably at least in part because he knew that I had been interested in Greg at one point in time (I used to write poetry about him in my diary-x back in the day. I was pretty crushed on him).

I began dating my ex while Greg was studying abroad (which is the reason I was able to get over Greg in the first place). When he came back from being abroad, it was as if neither of them knew what to do with each other. Greg had been my closest friend and the #1 male in my life. I suspect that, on some level, he and my ex both felt threatened by the presence of the other. As a result, Greg and I grew more distant. It's one of the biggest regrets I have from that time of my life.

I don't think I've ever had as close a friend as Greg, and I'm not sure I ever will again. I could listen to a song and know whether Greg would like it or not. He could gauge my reactions to movies we watched based on how my body moved as I stared at the screen. Not only could we finish each other's sentences, we could finish each other's THOUGHTS. There were literally times when we would look at each other and just start laughing, not even needing to verbalize the private joke that we knew had been triggered simultaneously in both our minds. The joke materialized without ever coming out of our mouths, and everyone else in the room just stared at us in confusion. And while Greg and I will always be able to call each other and pick up close to where we left off, I doubt we'll ever get back to the place we were.

I had very physical friendships with both Mike and Greg (not in a "friends with benefits" kind of way... I never kissed either of them). I spent several nights sleeping next to each of them. I cuddled with them while watching movies. I climbed on them. I sat on their laps. I danced with them at parties, in bars, and at the swing dancing classes I dragged them to. We had tickle fights, long hugs, back rubs, and piggyback rides. I guess that's where my life took a turn for physical dependency. I think they needed it as much as I did. Well, almost as much. That physical closeness helped me from going crazy more than once.

Now, I have a desire to make all my friendships sort of like that, but it's tricky. With Mike and Greg, there was sort of an unspoken agreement that nothing else was going to happen. Greg had gone head-over-heels for a girl back home many years before (which originally put him on the AGAG list... until he flipped the switch... long story). And Mike... well, Mike and I weren't attracted to each other. I love the guy, but it was clear that we were meant to be friends.

Starting new physically close relationships is more of a challenge. I think I've recently managed it with a couple of friends, but it's still very much in the "this could end up going horribly wrong" phase. People misunderstand my intentions. They think I'm flirting. They think it means that I desperately want them, and that I'm throwing myself in their general direction. Or, if nothing else, they think it means they have a chance with me. And then the switch has been flipped in their minds, even though it's still firmly in place in mine.

In fact, that's what my ex thought before we were dating, when I climbed onto his lap and promptly fell asleep. But that wasn't the case at all. In fact, I was declaring him "just a friend" with that action; I was treating him exactly the way I would've treated Mike. If I were at all interested in him (or if I had suspected that he might have been interested in me), I never would've done it. I would've analyzed every action with a little too much preparation. I would've kept my distance.

Sorry. I don't know how I got sidetracked there... Ah well.

The point is, there are a lot of things my ex wouldn't want to know about. In fact, that was one of the things that led to our break up. There were too many things happening to me that he didn't want to know about because he couldn't physically be there to witness them.

It was weird hearing his voice again. And him sounding exactly the same. And it feeling like the conversation had very little weight to it, despite both the subject matter and the given circumstances.

But none of that is the reason I got strung up on the L. No, that I blame on some unfortunate timing from my iPod. Some of the songs weren't even sad... but their lyrical content got to me.

(I've added all the following songs to my ProjectPlaylist above so that you can listen to them if you'd like.)

"You're the Only One" by Maria Mena
A couple of lines got to me. Like, "You're the only one who knows how to handle me," because I felt like that around him for a long time. Another was, "You're the only one who holds my hair back when I'm drunk and get sick." Suddenly I was transported back to the night of my 21st birthday.

"The Rain Song" by The Bangles
In which a woman says she's over a guy and claims she rarely thinks of him, but she remembers every time it rains.

"I Don't Need You" by The Pierces
"Never could look back/Never would look back/Because/I don't need you/And you don't need me"

"Konstantine" by Something Corporate
If you don't already know this song, YOU MUST LISTEN TO IT. Okay, I can't force you, but you really should. It's over 9.5 minutes long, but it's one of the most beautiful, haunting songs I know. And I love it. And I could cry to it without any other stimulation. The line that always gets me is "They'll never hurt you like I do."

Seriously, just bad timing on all of them.

I probably wouldn't have gotten that close to showing emotion, except that it's February, and my S.A.D. brings every emotion a lot closer to the surface. It's like being bipolar for a month every year.

I feel like I'm so close to being able to talk to him again. Something that I wanted so badly and for so long. And I'm not even sure how I feel about that anymore.


May you find the closeness you crave.
And may you get as close as you need.

~A~


P.S. Monday is the first day that graduate schools are allowed to start making offers. After that, there is a three week "offers period". Please say prayers for me. There are three schools that I'm really strongly considering, and I would be blessed to get an offer from any. But I'd love to have options. Pray for three offers. And also pray that if that happens, I become miraculously decisive. ;)

Dropping the Shoe

As a first order of business, I bet you've noticed (unless you're a Reader reader) that my music didn't harass you as soon as you stumbled onto the page today. That's because I re-installed the coding so that it's no longer on auto-start. So if you want the music, just hit the play button (or any track you fancy). And if you don't, then you won't have to rush to hit the pause button before the music starts. You're welcome.

So it's been a pretty good weekend...

I decided I needed to get my hair cut before grad school auditions. I meant to go last week, but life got in my way. Luckily, a woman I met through my Shakespeare workshops is a hair stylist, and she said she could fit me in on Saturday.

As I was waiting for the bus (for far too long) to go to the salon, I was absent-mindedly staring at the road, and I saw this piece of paper in the street. It looked a little like a receipt, and I didn't think much of it. It had clearly been driven over many times in the dirty slush and looked nasty. But as I continued to zone out while unfocusing and refocusing my eyes in its general direction, I realized it looked a bit like money. So when the cars were stopped at a red light, I walked out into the middle of the street and picked it up. Sure enough, it was a dirty, sopping wet five dollar bill. Hurrah! I think the other people at the bus stop may have been envious of my eagle eyes. Of course, then I was stuck with this cold, disgusting, limp piece of cloth-paper money in my hand in the freezing cold. I waved it wildly in the wind, trying to get it to dry off, but gave up and folded it into some loose papers in my purse.

I'm excited that I finally have a story to tell that involves the phrase "and then I found five dollars."

I feel guilty about keeping it... Is that weird? I mean, it clearly didn't belong to anyone around. And I lost about $14 dollars last week when it fell out of the shallow pocket of my work pants... So maybe this is the universe's way of giving back to me? I don't know... Maybe I should give it to a homeless person. Still undergoing a moral dilemma about this seemingly inconsequential bill grab. Let me know if you have any opinions on the subject.

Back on track...

I rarely get hair cuts. My last was in July 2007. The one before that was in November 2006. So when I go, I usually get a significant amount cut off (several inches), but my hair is so long at this point that you probably wouldn't notice if I didn't tell you.

Karen (my new friend and hair stylist) was trained to cut hair straight and dry. She did some preliminary cutting with my hair wet, and then blew it out and straightened it with an iron. I was a little cautious about this initially, as my hair is not straight, but she assured me it would look right when back to its natural state. And I trust her. So I walked out of the salon with hair so straight that I could actually run my fingers through it (see above photo). That never, ever happens.

On my way back from getting my haircut, I was standing waiting to cross the street, and I was honked at by a car carrying two men. They waved at me. I smiled and waved back, not knowing what else to do. And then the man on the passenger's side winked at me and blew me a kiss as they drove past.

I stopped to get some pizza before hopping on a bus back to my apartment. And as I was sitting at the bar, two men walked by on the sidewalk right outside. I don't have great peripheral vision, but I could tell that they were looking at me as they passed. After passing, one of them actually walked back to the window to look at me again. I made eye contact with him and smiled. He smiled back a little sheepishly, for having been caught, and then went to catch up with his friend.

I love it when strangers check me out. I don't think anything makes me feel more attractive than that.

I know, I know. I'm setting back the women's movement. I shouldn't want to be treated like a piece of meat. But I do. I like it. It would probably bother me if they actually tried to hit on me or something. But just staring at me and blowing kisses? Made my day. Seriously.

Maybe I should straighten my hair more often...?

Maybe there's a part of me that's boy crazy. I have, after all, proposed to three different men in the last two months.

*waves to Barry, Ricky, and Brian*

But maybe that's just because I've been watching too much Arrested Development (in which the character Maeby proposes to people frequently). Especially funny about the proposals, by the way, is that those are three people whom I pretty much only communicate with via internet and cell phone. Apparently, I connect with people on a stronger level when I'm not actually around them? I don't know. And, in case you're curious, I haven't received a solid response from any of them yet. (Fingers crossed! Maybe they'd be up for polyandry?)

But then, as I mentioned in my last post, I can't imagine anyone ever actually wanting to marry me.

I'm sort of working that out through my novel, actually. I posted the fifth chapter today, and it involves my main character day-dreaming about possible weddings.

When I started the editing process for this, I separated my original Word document into 18 documents, so that I could work on each chapter individually without being distracted by the others. Today, I decided to start a new document, in which I'm copying and pasting everything that I've published in the private blog. So as of today, and the end of chapter 5, I am at 23,229 words and I'm on the 54th page. Keep in mind... My original, unedited 18-chapter document is 56,032 words and on the 148th page. So obviously, it seems wrong that less than a third of the chapters should account for half the words and more than a third of the pages... So I went back to my original document and looked at where chapter 5 ended initially: The very tip-top of page 46, at 20,219 words. WHAT??? Here I thought I was going to clean it up, make it less wordy and more concise... And I've added about 8 pages and 3,000 words (which I'm guessing is mostly dialogue). I'm worried that this is one step forward and two steps back...

But it's fun to edit it. I've taken out a couple of romantic interests for the main character, as 8 is just too many. That'll take out at least one first kiss, but that's alright I suppose. As much as I love writing about first kisses.

In life, I romanticize the first kiss. I imagine it to be so wonderful. Particularly that moment before of not knowing whether the kiss is going to happen or not... It's exhilarating.

My friend Anna and I (and a couple of our other friends) refer to it as the "Drop the Shoe" moment. We were in a production of Cinderella together. At one point, the Prince and the Herald were on stage together, and one of them was holding a pillow bearing the glass slipper between them. And as the scene went on, they kept moving closer and closer to each other, and the sexual tension was palpable (we had one sequence of photographs that was particularly good proof of this...). Of course, both of the actors were straight, but we always joked from the wings that they should just drop the shoe and go crazy on each other. Hence, the "Drop the Shoe" moment was born. We'd stand backstage chanting "Drop the shoe! Drop the shoe!" Sadly, they never did. (Too bad. Would've been hot.)

But it doesn't always happen like that. In fact, I've had some really terribly timed first kisses. And it takes away that moment. Like my first kiss, which happened right after I told the guy that I didn't want him to kiss me (although in retrospect, it was a good thing). Or the guy who was playing keep-away with my car keys when I was trying desperately to get home and planted one on me. Or my first boyfriend, who kissed me as I was in a hurry to get into the security car that was getting me back to my college campus (the security people do NOT like to be kept waiting... and the guy was watching, which was horribly awkward). Or my second boyfriend, who kissed me when we were in an incredibly uncomfortable position on a couch. Or the most recent guy to give me a kiss, who asked if he could kiss me (which was endearing, but it removed the moment).

Now, don't go thinking I'm some sort of rampant kissing fool. I'm not. Even if you include the men I've had to kiss on stage (which I only do when trying to pad my numbers), I'm only up to eight. And I'm occasionally reluctant to count the keep-away-keys guy... He kissed me (or tried to) on multiple occasions, but it was always a sneak attack sort of deal. I didn't really have the option of whether to kiss him back...

But anyway.

I think I've only ever really had a Drop the Shoe moment once before a first kiss. I won't go into it, but it involved a football metaphor. He tried to kiss me twice that night before I actually let him. And it was without a doubt the best first kiss of my life (even though the guy ended up being pretty unimportant). God, it was hot. I mentally revisited that moment for weeks. So much so that I actually dropped a class as a result of it... But that's a story for another day.

To be honest, I think the best times I've had that moment were ones when the kiss didn't happen at all. Where, for some reason, the shoe never left the pillow.

If you read my diary-x back in the day -- which I think is three of you -- you might remember that I had many moments like that with my friend Greg (among other people). Including this one from May 2004:

It had been raining earlier, so the roads and the trees were wet and glassy.
The sky was starting to turn red from the sunrise.
It was kinda perfect.
He almost kissed me.
I knew it.
I almost kissed him.
I think he knew it.
But we just waited until the droplets of water returned.

We stood there
Silently
In the sunrise rain

I can still feel that particular moment in all its perfect, metaphoric, metaphysical glory.

(That's one of only a handful of passages I still have from that blog, since it was accidentally erased. I have it thanks to getting it in a PM on BWW from my friend Chris back in the day... you know, back when I used to carefully compose poetry in blogged form, instead of the insane rambling posts you read now.)

Those moments... *sigh*... That moment is easily the sexiest part of the chase.

With my first boyfriend, we actually had a moment like that long before we were dating. We were walking down a hallway in the basement of a dorm (Regina, between Room 16 and the dance studio, for all the SMC readers out there) a few steps behind another friend of ours. I don't remember how or why it happened... But suddenly, he grabbed me and dipped me. Right in the middle of the hallway. And his face was so close to mine. And I thought he was going to kiss me. But he didn't. I would've let him if he'd tried. It was hot. In fact, that was the moment that made me take him off of my As Good As Gay list ("flipping the switch", if you will). Without that "Drop the Shoe" moment, we might never have dated.

I had one with my second boyfriend, too. For some reason, I was terrified that he was about to kiss me... We were waiting for the L, and my train arrived right before he could. He kissed me at the spot where my jaw meets my neck... Oh, that was way hotter than our first kiss ended up being.

In case you were curious (and why wouldn't you be?), the hottest kiss of my life was from the same guy as the football-metaphor first kiss. It involved being pinned against the side of a mini-van in heavy rain around 2am. We were drenched. And, really, it should've been cold and gross. But it wasn't. It was unexpected, and exciting, and sexy as hell.

It's really too bad that things didn't work out with him. We had amazing, inexplicable chemistry. What I wouldn't give to revisit chemistry like that... I hope someday I can find it again. I hope it wasn't a once-in-a-lifetime deal.


This picture was the background on my computer for most of my first year of college. I wanted that. It always seemed to me that the guy had just decided to start dancing with the girl out of no where. Caught her off guard. Trying to make her smile, maybe. Or trying to get her to kiss him. I don't know. But I love it. I'd drop the shoe for a guy like that. Or, in this case, I'd drop the flowers.


May you have many reasons to "drop the shoe."

~A~


P.S. I'll be auditioning for grad schools on Tuesday and Wednesday. Please pray for me. (Or, if you're not a praying person, think positive thoughts. I can use all the help I can get.)

P.P.S. I know I've mentioned this a few times already, but I thought I'd reiterate... If you're interested in reading my work-in-progress novel, just leave your email address in the comments section and I'll add you to the list of approved readers for the private blog.

P.P.P.S. I edited my last post and added a great quotation at the bottom. If you're a Reader reader, you may have missed it, so you might want to go back and check it out.

In Defense of Silence

Whenever I played team sports in gym class, I always preferred being on defense. In soccer, I'd hang around down near my own team's goal, feeling as though I was going to be more helpful down there. I was never an aggressive player. I often ended up in the right place at the right time to help my team. And even when I was just standing on the field, just chatting with the goalie while everything interesting happened on the other end of the field, I felt like I was being helpful. As though by not acting, I was setting up a better strategy for moments to come.

And I guess that's how I play life as well. I have so many coping mechanisms and defense mechanisms that it's a wonder that I'm not mechanical. But I'm great at protecting myself. Self-preservation is my specialty.

I learned long ago that I'm great at talking myself into and out of things (a good example of this being my concept of "As Good As Gay"). I'm able to convince myself that the things I predict will happen are all for the best. I'm good at seeing something that's going to fall through long before it does, and I know what steps to take to make myself the least disappointed. I shape a cast around my heart long before it has even broken.

I also have great skill with abstract thought. I make connections that other people don't, which is either advantageous or alienating, depending on the circumstances. And I'm constantly thinking. Even if you don't see them turning behind my eyes, my wheels are always in motion. And whereas most people have linear thought processes, I tend to think in webs. Every new idea leads me to a whole set of unrelated tangents. (Like this one about how I think, for example.)

I only mention how I think because it relates to my methods of self-defense. I'm overly analytical. I think far more than I should. And before any important action, I think through a thousand consequences. I think until my hands shake and the world is blurry. I think about the things that could happen and the things that never will. I think about the positives, the negatives, and everything in between. That way, no matter what happens, I'm a little more prepared than I would've been (I've already mentioned how much I hate surprises).

Now, this bubble-wrapped life of mine does come with it's drawbacks. I'm not much of a risk-taker. I don't stir the pot if I don't have to. And there are a lot of things that I don't do because I think it's going to benefit me or someone else in the long run, no matter how appealing it may seem in the moment. (Really, the only time I have a tendency to be impulsive is when I'm shopping, and I've been using a system of checks and balances on that one with Megan for the last decade... Dear God. I just realized that it's been a decade since I started high school. Well, 9.5 years technically, but close enough. Egad!)

Sometimes I think about things for so long that it becomes too late to do anything about them. But I'm generally able to convince myself that it was meant to be that way (I am, after all, good at talking myself out of things).

Generally, I'm a pretty honest person. Mostly because I'm a terrible liar. But also because I don't like lies. Honesty is much more appealing.

But I am not of the opinion that "not telling the whole truth" classifies as lying. Lying is fabrication, not omission. Withholding information is completely different from lying. And I find that it's often completely necessary.

It's not that I'm trying to lie. It's not that I'm trying to be manipulative. It's just... I feel this need to strategize.

Most of the time I do things like this, it's with the intention of protecting someone. Sometimes that someone is myself. Usually, it's whomever the thing I'm hiding pertains to. Sometimes, it's whomever I'm keeping the secret from. And sometimes, those last two qualifications have to do with the same person.

Brian finally read the entry I wrote about him.

Maybe I shouldn't have written what I did. But I felt like I had to. And he reads this infrequently and without pattern... I guess some part of me thought there was a chance that he'd never see it. I guess I left things up to God/The Fates/destiny/the universe. And I convinced myself that it was for the best.

There was a lot that I didn't put in that entry that I would have if there were no chance that he'd read this. A lot of things that can't be said.

As a side note, I recently realized that I talk about Brian almost as much as I talk to Brian. Is that unhealthy? Or stalker-esque or something? Or perhaps I'm finally riding the final hill into the valley of mental illness that I've feared for so long with my thinking-man's-hypochondria.

Anyway. Every time I told someone that Brian was in Nebraska and in love with me, I could expect to hear the same answer: "Oh, this isn't going to end well."

We had a long conversation a couple of nights ago. Brian's apparently over me. Yes, over me. Meaning not in love with me. I don't know whether it had anything to do with reading what I wrote. All I know is that I was just as confused and messed up by him saying that he's not in love with me as I felt when he said that he was. Only this time, I wasn't smiling and blushing during my silence on the phone. I sat with furrowed brow and no words that would create a proper response.

I've been silent through large chunks of many phone conversations with Brian, which is something that I don't do much with anyone else. Sometimes it's because he's analyzing me and trying to bring slices of my soul to the surface. Sometimes it's because I'm not sure how to react to the inane things he's said. Maybe I'm just comfortable sitting in silence with him.

After we ended the phone conversation (because he goes to bed about 3 hours before I do), I ended up composing a long e-mail, saying all the things that I've never said. The things it feels like I can't say or shouldn't say... so I don't. Things that I've wanted to say that I thought weren't okay to say.

Maybe it was because I'm sick (I have a tendency to be blunt when I'm sick). Maybe it was because I was sleep deprived (I hadn't slept the previous two nights, thanks to the sickness and my insomnia). Maybe it was the medications I was on. But it just seemed like things he needed to know. Things that he should know now that he says he's over me.

I finished the e-mail. I reread it, and deleted a few paragraphs (using the self-censoring techniques that come along with my defense mechanisms like a 2-for-1 deal at Target). I wrote an introduction about how I probably shouldn't send it. And I wrote a conclusion blaming it on my illness/medications/insomnia. I went to hit send, but then stopped myself. I walked away from my computer. I said a prayer. I called Megan (at what I'm sure was an ungodly hour in Michigan... and on a school night for her, no less). And Megan did exactly what a non-sexual soul-mate should: she talked me through it without pushing me in one direction or another. And we decided that I should sleep on it before sending it. So I saved it as a draft and left it in my e-mail account.

Fact about me: I'm a great secret keeper, but everyone always knows that I have secrets. Somehow, I'm bad at the poker face part of the secret-keeping process. Still, I'll keep a secret as long as you need me to do so. I have a secret that someone told me in 8th grade that I've never told (again, that was a DECADE ago). And a handful of them from high school (including one that has to do with a wide circle of my friends... and I've never told). Some of them I've kept for so long that they don't even matter any more. Others I kept for so long that I forgot them. Once I swear my secrecy, I'm a lock-box, baby.

But that fact also applies to my own secrets. Hence how I ended up telling Brian that the e-mail that I didn't send exists. He thinks the fact that I mentioned it means that on some level, I want him to talk me into sending it to him... something like that. And he's a little bit right. I do want to send it to him. But I won't. Not now, anyway. Because I know that right now, some things have to stay secret. And I'm very good at that.

Besides, it's for the best. In the long run. For the both of us.

Or, at least, I've convinced myself of that.


May you always know how to stay silent when you know you should, no matter how much you want to scream.

~A~



P.S. Yes, the shadow picture is a self-portrait. (Someone once asked if I was naked when I took it. Can you believe that?)

P.P.S. For those of you non-Reader users (dude, seriously look into them... they're fantastic. I use Google Reader), you might want to get in the habit of checking back here every Monday and Friday, so as not to be disappointed (I'm trying to post a Wednesday-or-Thursday and a Saturday-or-Sunday... and I often post at night, as that's when I'm free to write... so that's a good way to save yourself heartbreak...). Or, if you're like Amy and you just like having something to check, by all means keep checking back. It makes my hit-counts look higher, which makes me giddy.

P.P.P.S. If you do use a reader, please click to this page on occasion. I'll admit that it's mostly because I like having my hits go up. But it's also for all these good reasons that my blog-buddy R.E.H. pointed out. (Please read his post... And please comment on this one. Feed the bloggers! We all love responses.)

P.P.P.P.S. I've been listening to "Three Wishes" by The Pierces all day. I just added it to my Project Playlist, so now you can listen to it all day, too. (You might recognize it from Gossip Girl when they had that debutante ball... You know, if you're a loser like me and you're completely addicted to Gossip Girl... And you bought the episode Victor/Victrola on iTunes... And think that the British actor Ed Westwick -- a.k.a. Chuck Bass -- is fiercely sexy. Just me? Okay then.)


ETA: I just noticed that saying the title aloud sounds like "In Defensive Silence." Or maybe "Indefensive Silence" (not that it's a real word, but you can infer a meaning). And it's not too far from "End Offensive Silence." And that made me laugh.