Reasons To Respect Your Elders

Just recently, my 92 year old grandfather was nearly on the brink of being thrown out of his retirement housing because he couldn't get organized enough to pay his rent on time or keep his apartment clean. My grandfather refuses to admit that his age might have any effect on his ability to live (and roam about the city with his walker) completely independently and hates it when people offer him help. He is also a compulsive philanthropist who gave away all of his money, so he's on a pretty limited budget. These traits of determination and selflessness would be quite admirable if they weren't so frustrating in his current situation.

My grandfather was refusing to speak to my parents who have been trying to help, so I took my batting eyelashes and my "Grandpa, don't make me cry!" over to talk some sense into him and lend a hand, if possible. Luckily, he was willing to let me try to help straighten things out.

In order to get a handle on his financial stuff, he took me to sit down with his favorite guy at his bank. This guy (who my parents had already been talking up to me) has been extremely kind and patient with my grandfather and even made him a budget which is printed out in huge font to help him see it, which thoroughly impressed me. He was cute and funny. He asked about my garden when I mentioned it. I was intrigued. So I sent a "thank you" email. He replied, then later found me on Facebook. A few rapid email/Facebook/supposed-grandpa-related exchanges later, we met for a walk around Greenlake and dinner, made out in the car like teenagers, and made plans for more dates.

If I had known that hanging out with my grandpa would have been good for my love life, I probably would have been a much more attentive granddaughter up until now.

My grandpa has his own relatively romantic story. He met and married my grandmother (who went out with him because he had a boat) before he went off to England during WWII (ever the radical, he was actually a conscientious objector/medic). He never considered another woman romantically even after her death in 1994, though he never turns down attention from women. I recently asked him how he knew Grandma was The One and he said "because I fell in love with her". As if it's that easy. Apparently, I didn't inherit his ability to embrace the simple and the obvious when it comes to love. But maybe it's not too late to rub off on me...

He's Just Not That Into You?

The good news is that it wasn't just my neuroses inventing things that weren't going well. The bad news is that things just weren't going.

When we finally acknowledged it, he gave me an earnest "it's not you, it's me/ bad timing/ not ready for a serious relationship right now" explanation. Which I thought was generous. I contend that if he was really that into me, working me into his busy life wouldn't seem so hard. At least for me - even with a full life, I naturally make room for someone I am really excited about. Also, I think that if I was really that into him, I would have been able to be more patient with his process along the way. I had a sinking feeling that he wasn't all that I wanted/needed either. But I liked what it was for the moment and wanted it to last awhile at least. We did have a great time together. And the novelty of our past was so much fun.

I was surprisingly accepting that this wasn't it. My sense of worth is still in tact (I'm still pretty sure I'm a g*ddam catch), and I'm willing to hold out for mutual heads over heals. So the adjustment back to single has begun. With some sadness and loss and permission to act out, of course.

Interestingly, I had another of those strange experiences where I felt like the break-up discussion was one of the best conversations we ever had. Refreshingly honest and caring. But why are we so often only able to connect on that level when saying goodbye? Funny. Regardless, it felt good to part ways on good terms.

And so ends the saga of the 7th grade boyfriend.

So, what's next?!

Dating Life of Goldilocks

So the initial flurry has settled a little, and my first concern/ issue/ reason to freak out came up.

Here it is: I started feeling rejected because I didn't think we were making out enough. Yep. That's it. Apparently, spending time doing things like having fun and actually getting to (re-)know each other wasn't what I wanted after all (even though I would have insisted on that as my ideal scenario). Ideas of how I thought things should be going started in the back of my mind, then grew and grew until I became really concerned and upset.

This, some may remember, is in contrast to the last guy who I was upset with because he wanted to make out with me too much. The guy before that seemed to want to make out with me an acceptable amount, but I was busy complaining about the other ways he should be showing his affection more.

Yes, I see a pattern, thanks. It appears it might not be them.

But I'm pretty sure it's not just that I'm chronically too picky (I hope). As I wade into each new relationship, I keep getting frustrated and hurt because I don't think the guy likes me enough. I think that insecurity can still get the best of me at times. And I start to look a lot like a girl who needs a lot of reassurance.

Interestingly, my biggest/longest relationships have been with people who were thoroughly convinced about how much they liked me from the beginning and had no trouble expressing it. So I was free to relax and be worshiped. But this kept the balance of power in my favor, since I knew I was the one who could walk away more easily. That doesn't sound much like the equal partnership I say that I want. But I'm not sure I know how to trust if I can't guarantee how they feel about me.

My friends want to sign me up for Tough Love, and I'm beginning to think it might be a good idea. The general consensus is that I need to relax and STOP thinking too much. Enjoy what is, rather than constantly looking for what might be wrong. Easier said than done, of course...

The dizzy dancing way you feel...

...when every fairy tale comes real. I've looked at love that way.
-Joni Mitchell (from the song Both Sides Now)

Powerful drug, that first spark of romance.
Happiness startles me awake in the morning.
I don't really need to eat. Except a little chocolate.
I walk around smiling. Catch myself whistling.
I feel generous and patient.
I see human kindness and love wherever I go.
I am full of Hope.

But then, good old Fear starts nibbling away.
Sometimes even jumps out and grabs hold of the whole thing.
If it's good enough to make you dizzy,
it must be too good to be true, you see.
So prepare for the worst.
If you start to attach and depend, you'll have too much to lose.
Protect yourself, it tells me.

...if it hurts don't let them know. Don't give yourself away.

Isn't there a way to live somewhere in the middle? Where you relax and enjoy the fun and possibility of a new connection? My brain knows this, but my heart has been so well trained to defend itself fiercely.

If only we could convince my heart to stay open. No matter what happens, I am bound to at least learn something along the way - if I can hang in there and pay attention. God knows, I could use a little more learnin'.

I really don't know love at all.

Why I Love My Job #163

Third grader Maggie unexpectedly pops her head into my office and says: "I have no idea why I'm running in the hall with no shoes!"

Um. Me neither. Thanks, Maggie.

Once and Again

So, I appear to be dating my boyfriend from 7th grade - again. Or finally. [See disclaimer for liberal use of the term "boyfriend" to describe the previous relationship.] However we want to define it... once upon a time, he was a first toe in the water. A boy I really liked in middle school who I "went out with" twice actually, but wasn't ready or able to do much more than giggle and turn red over.

It all started (this time 'round) on Facebook. He followed the link to my blog and emailed me that he didn't think I should go online for dates because it is "weird and unnatural". I thought this was hilarious - that he had the nerve to say that and because it was feeling completely true as I was trying to do it again. I asked if he had any better ideas. Someone mentioned Thai food. One thing led to another...

The whole thing is a little surreal. But definitely good so far. He is comfortably familiar, and yet new and exciting. We seem to speak the same language, and are making up for that lost phone time. And I appear to be getting guitar lessons out of the deal. :)

I am a little cautious about letting this great story of re-meeting overshadow the actual experience of how we relate, like may have happened when I got swept up in the grand beginning of the Trader Joe's/Craigslist experience. But so far, the connection feels rooted in our present adult selves and parallel life experiences (and having fun), not just novelty or nostalgia. Although the nostalgia is fun, too - once I get past the uncomfortable images of hairspray-plastered bangs and Laura Ashley dungarees.

Best of all, it is satisfying to notice the measurable personal progress that I've made... since I no longer giggle uncontrollably whenever he gets close to me. Though he still has the uncanny ability to make me turn bright red...

Blast From the Past

One of the fun things about Facebook is people from my former lives suddenly falling back in my lap. This has actually been a healing experience for me in many ways. It is really nice to be in constant relaxed contact with people I loved in the past but cut myself off from while I was busy battling my demons.

Most recently, people from the way-back past of elementary school have shown up. People who knew the totally different (and yet so much the same) person I was way before Al Gore even invented the internet are on my computer every day. Among these people is my (still single and still charming) boyfriend from 7th grade. Please note: I use the term "boyfriend" extremely loosely here. As he reminded me - I apparently had a friend call him and say, "She wants to go out with you, but you can't call her." So, as you can probably guess, it didn't go a whole lot further than that. HA! Sorry, my parents seriously frowned on even talking to boys on the phone, and I wasn't willing to risk their disapproval. Even though I really liked him. But I suspect it was also convenient because I was also deathly afraid of him. Ah, pre-adolescent romance.

So I was planning to go to dinner with my 7th grade boyfriend, which was already kind of tripping me out, when low and behold, my 7th grade teacher (who I hadn't seen since the last day of 7th grade) walked in the door of a volleyball game I was coaching at. It turned out that he had an 8th grade daughter on the opposing team. But in the meantime, I was hit by the Twilight Zone reality of being in the presence of my 7th grade teacher... while back at a CYO volleyball game... texting "OMG!" to my 7th grade boyfriend... having just woken up at home in the same house where I lived all this the first time around...

When I said moving back into that house might a healing, full circle kind of experience, how was I to know that could be just the beginning?!

The universe is definitely trying to tell me something. Exactly what I'm not sure. Something still unresolved about my past? Something about karma or fate? Just playing a funny joke?! Or perhaps coming back home after a long hard journey...

Bad Date Hostage

So I did go back online. Briefly. In some ways the diversion did disperse some of my anxious/anticipatory dating energy as I'd hoped, but in other ways, it really did just multiply it. Apparently, there is no cure for dating angst.

The response I got was interesting. I think my sassy lead photo attracted something different. And I had toned down my profile a little, not feeling like I had anything to prove this time around. I got an interesting mix of more artsy guys, rather than just athletic and outdoorsy. But also, apparently I still attract the guys who are just slightly off for some reason or another - which still seems like the majority who have ever contacted me. Lovely.

I agreed to a date with a cute Britpop obsessed hipster who was really engaging over email. As I approached the great little dive bar where we were meeting, I yet again barely survived that excruciatingly painful point just before the threshold of entering a blind date. I bribed/coerced/comforted myself saying, "if nothing else, at least you'll have something to blog about". And I remembered that the anticipation is by far the worst part of any first date (or so I thought).

But you know when you know within the first 2 minutes that this isn't it?! Not even close. Perhaps as a writer, he was better in writing. Nice enough, but speaking a different language in person. Not a kindred spirit after all.

Realizing this, I tried to convince myself that he was still fun and interesting, and I could enjoy his company for an evening. Unfortunately, it became more and more painful as struggled internally with why I couldn't just leave... all while I went on making forced pleasant conversation. (Where is the Sass when I need it?!) Somehow my drink got on his tab, so I felt like I had to ride it out until the natural end. I texted a friend when he went to the bathroom, seriously considering initiating the "call me with an emergency" extraction protocol. But no such luck.

I just didn't have the words to let him down gracefully, especially when I obviously hadn't given him much of a chance. And in the back of my mind, I'm thinking you never know what kind of weirdo he might become when provoked. Or maybe I wasn't willing to make things uncomfortable by doing anything other than what was expected of me. I figured it was much easier to email him later and tell him I'd met someone else. I mean, I'm big on integrity, but isn't that the kind thing to do?

So I was held hostage for two hours by my own niceness (or perhaps cowardice). Then, I made things even worse by agreeing to go out with him again. And somehow I wasn't fast enough to avoid his lips flying at me. Really, he thought we were having that much fun?! Ahhhh!

I did send him a very nice email a few days later. I explained at length that I was sorry for the abrupt change in course, but someone else had shown up who I felt the need to focus on (which lucky for me turned out to actually be true). He replied that he was disappointed, but appreciated my honesty. So my conscience was let off the hook. In the meantime, I swore off online dating forEVER. I'm so glad it works for some people, but I cannot handle any more of it. Dear lord.

If you do choose to bravely enter this dangerous land, here is your only chance for survival: always buy your own drink, pay cash, and have an extraction plan on speed dial!

Courtship in a Digital Age

Hypothetically speaking: If you met a guy once and we haven't seen each other or spoken since, but he has commented on several of your Facebook statuses... does that mean he likes you?

The Sass

So I got a sassy new hair cut...
And it seems to have gone to my head. Or I'm just doing really well with resolution #1 this year.

Things that the old "nice girl" filter used to catch are instead flying out of my mouth.

First, I opened my big mouth at work when I experienced more of the completely predictable yet totally surprising antics of parents (wanting me to help them bend the rules). I was outraged by the repeat offense of a particular family who never think the rules apply to them. So I shot my mouth off in a classic unprofessional manner, telling anyone who would listen, including everyone in charge. As if I am a paragon of virtue. I immediately regretted it once I calmed down a little.

Then, in the everyday tangle of normal group social dynamics, I made a poorly executed attempt to bring things out into the open after a few of us had been comparing notes about feeling left out. I waltzed over to a group of coworker-friends and said, "Just so you know, we have a bet that you four will sit together at these meetings." (i.e., nice job being exclusive). Which was overstating the level of discussion that had gone on about where they did or did not sit and who they included or not, and I felt awful as soon as the words flew out of my mouth. Of course, they were taken aback and mildly defensive.

Later, after enduring the entire meeting with my heart sliding down to my feet, I went back over, formally apologized, and tried to compliment them with a Sex and the City comparison. It seemed to help clear the air a little, but I still felt awkward.

Then, a relatively new coworker who had been slow to warm to us all was telling me a story about a frustratingly stand-offish parent. My coworker explained how she thought it was so unnecessary that this parent responded in a put-off manner when she was trying to make friendly conversation about their mutual love for their cute little dogs. And I looked straight at my coworker and just had to say, "It is so funny that you're telling that story because that was exactly my experience of you!"

I couldn't help it. It was the truth just hanging there in the air between us! Luckily, she took it relatively well.

Finally, I walked in late to a volunteer project with a few people I know well, but many I don't know at all, and practically immediately, details about my underwear come shooting out of my mouth. (For some reason, I was telling them about my friend who thinks I am still single because I don't wear a thong. To which, btw, I insist that I find lovely pieces that are both attractive and functional. Tyvm.) I think later I also announced how much money I make (or don't make)...

Breaking free? Or falling apart. We'll have to see.