Author: pookiebear

Tale of three men

a: boy-who-lives-overseas: I never finished the story I started here. It was — bizarre to put it mildly. We got out a lot of how we felt and he flip-flopped from how “I don’t have time to deal with this” to “Why aren’t you telling me what’s going on!” I said “You can’t have your cake and eat it too you know!” So we talked and he understood where I was coming from and I was actually pretty impressed that he wanted to discuss it — he kept reiterating that he couldn’t expose his soul like I exposed mine and I retorted it wasn’t about exposing ones soul — it was about you know how friendship is two way street. I wasn’t going to take this one way giving any more — screw that. But the friendship feels real — it doesn’t feel like it’s just online based. Bizarre I know. REM is doing a world tour and they are hitting Belgium this June — shortly after my 31st birthday. He asked me to go — if my passports get their act together. This wouldn’t be completely out of the questions — flights from Chicago-Brussels are running 250 RT (and hopefully my fat ass will be a much smaller version for me to sit in couch for 10 zillion hours). But the thing is 6 months ago I would have been packing my bag and saying “I’ll be there in a minute” , but now, I’m scared. Even platonically the idea of going to .be to meet him now does not excite me but scares me, tremendously. I feel like the proverbial dog who got kicked one too many times, and while the experience of going to .eu would be tremendous, I just don’t want to deal with the rejection, even if it is platonically.
b: boy-who-lives-near-me: the exfiancee. one of two, I guess, technically. HAS BEEN GETTING ON MY LAST NERVE. for several reasons (and yes this is soap opera from hell interlude): he lives with his Lisa-look-alike exgf. they are JUST ROOMATES (as he says). Yet, I can’t call over there. I can’t hang out with him without him punching a time clock (I have to be home before Karen is etc) and he is CONDESENDING. God, I never realized how stupid he thought I was. He came over when my stuff was delivered and he sat there being a dick about the damn dresser — about how I had to be careful because there were different woods — I told him I built Ikea dressers before, I can handle it, no biggie, I’ve done almost all the old furniture in my apartment back in DC (which was Ikea based). He kept reiterating about how difficult it was as I was pushing him out the door.Then he picked a fight with me in best buy. About cables. I knew what I had to buy but he kept insisting I get XYZ and he picked a fight with me about me getting a universal remote, because I wanted the 8 unit one and I only have four units that needed a remote so he kept saying “Why do you want the 8 unit one?” I mean for fuck sakes, if i want to spend the extra five bucks for the 8 unit one, it is MY MONEY. Picking a fight is too strong a word, how about kept insisting he was right even though I had told him specifically before we left what I needed and had shown him at my apartment? Right. And then he is the charmer, he IM’d me before I left for the class the other day and said “I thought I’d stop over and bang you before class.” Right. Aint that smooth. I’m just so, disgusted about how this has turned out. I had no intention of sleeping with him but I do/did think he was a close friend and this whole thing has made me feel just, ugh. I told him if he wanted a piece of this he’d have to work for it and he just assumed he would be working it THAT way — uh no , sorry. I realised I’m not even sexually attracted to him anymore — which is a good thing. I’m not even upset, just disappointed. And the kicker? He’s a father. Of a 7 year old. And has YET to tell his parents.
c:the-boy-who-was-the-crush: never happened. met him before i left DC and we wanted, desperately, to go out with each other. But I was living with Paul and even though Paul and I were officially split up, this wasn’t going to work. He came out from left field and sent me a dear lisa letter — even before we had a damn date. I said, apparently, a string of things to him that hit dead on. He emailed me this week. Apologizing. Apparently I was right about him and one of his girlfriends who I knew wanted to date him (i think elvenresistance knows exactly how this whole thing works) and he kept denying how they were just ‘friends’ and she didn’t feel that way (right.)– uh sure buddy. Anyways, that bombed. Big surprise. And apparently a few characteristics i had pinpointed on him were dead on. So I was right. I laughed and told boy-who-lives-overseas and he said “i’m not childish and immature” and i said “no, just pighearted and stubborn”. Glad things with the-boy-who-was-the-crush worked out — even in this way. While I’m still interested, I’ve realised a few things about HIS personality that would have driven me up the wall — like the whole grey area — i mean, i’m pretty much into black/white idealism. There are a few greys, sure, but overall, he’d require WAY TOO MUCH maintance and hand holding and that was something I’m not about to do.
I miss Paul. I miss his company because regardless of the fighting and the arguing and the bs, there were a few good things and I miss those good things. He’s scared shitless abotu the whole dating thing as well, which is kind of funny. But it’s only natural to miss someone after living with them for three years. It was definitely intense.
The end.

i.am.canadian

realised that many of you had not known I am canadian, by birth. i was born in Toronto and have lived and gone to school there. So my comment about whether or not canadia is a country (credit to panicsyndrome) country was me being facetious. But if you are like darthmoo, you’d want to build a bridge and give Connitcut back to it’s motherland.
ahem.
We did not go to Canadia.
My brother, mother and one of my aunts and myself were eating at a chinese buffet (in which said aunt called us at 9:30am that morning and told me that a: that was where we were going and b: i was driving and to pick her up promptly at 6 and c: having a discussion about my predicament.
As stated, I was born in Canadia, to an American and Canadian parents. By my mother, I am a naturalized American citizen. By my birth and by my father, I am Canadian. Both countries see me as being a citizen. I cannot, however, cross the border or the leave North America due to:

  • I lost my naturalization papers
  • I do not have a passport for either country.

When I went to my fathers funeral in May 2000, getting into the country was no problem, leaving (and this is prior to 9/11 btw) was a bitch. I was detained by INS/Customs at Toronto Pearson’s airport for nearly 3 hours because I claimed American citizenship and handed them a Canadian birth certificate.
Apparently, crossing the Blue Water Bridge these days requires much thought (even to just go to the Casino – hah) and when I simply stated that by having my own mother with me would help me and my OWN MOTHER said “Sorry, I can’t do that. Like they would believe me?”
Wtf.
So both INS and Province of Ontario have cashed their respective checks and I should be getting paperwork to get my passports together. yay.

welcome to my world (part duex)

Well, there is a lot to catch up on, namely, the drive here, being back in GR for the last two weeks and all the things in between. I haven’t been real motivated to keep writing, and I don’t know really why.
Right now the world is in a flux as the movers are nearly a week late bringing up my stuff (thought I’ve been spending money like crazy buying things for the apt), my exfiance Danny has decided I’m his Tuesday night fill in (and he hasn’t yet told his roommate/exgf I’m back in town which means I cannot call his place and I can only seem him xxx times/day/whatever). He’s also been hinting about us sleeping together – again and the problem is I don’t know where I stand on that. I know I made the vow of celibacy for a year but I’m making him jump through hoops regardless but I don’t really feel attracted to him anymore. Tonight he said something and I responded in kind about the jumping in hoops and he said “why do i have to?” I said “because it’s different now. I’m not easy lay to get into bed anymore.” And that part is at least true. Not only will one have to provide medical history but one should not expect that based on past experiences that I will simply lay down and open thine legs. I know I have to let him go, I just can’t do it yet.
I feel about as sexual as a turnip right now (oh baldrick!) and the jeans I bought last week are already too fucking baggy (I’m thinking it was a misprint in sizing, same size other pair of jeans are still tight from recent weight gain).
At any rate, things have been very surreal.
But, Pugsley is at a new home, staying with a local friend who has a pug-mix and wanted company for the dog. The girls are dirivng me bat shit with their codependncy, lilly is scratching herself to death thanks to no humidifier and the bowl of water trick is not working too swiftly. My main pc is doing its own little thing and i can’t do squat until my shit gets here. WHich REALLY sucks is that tomorrow (Wednesday) i am going to the college for a campus tour and classes start Monday and my shit is to arrive THIS WEEKEND.
oh boohoo.
confidential to D in VA: Awesome about the peppers! Are they still in the PPG cup i put them in? I figured scuba would not last long with the peppers 😉 I mean. the man has no domestication to him — have you heard about the colors of his new house? 🙂 hehe. I was surprised they had grown one pepper at all — but I’m glad you are taking care of them 🙂

shit.

He never got the email till after I went to bed, so the IM last night was coinky dink.
I received one letter full of panic.
Another that was super defensive.
He attempted to track me down via other methods of communication but I was already in bed laying up there staring at the ceiling.
I teared up and made coffee.

happy new years eve

I have a crush on someone and have for a long time. We are seperated by a great distance and there was always a hint of a little something something. I’ve kept myself in check because the relationship is decidedly one sided and I couldn’t deal with it anymore. I had to make a stand for myself and so I did.
(snipped letter I had here for all of five minutes)
This wasn’t about romance or what have you but it was about respect. I just ended a horrid relationship where respect was not a trait and I want AND need to be friends with people who will give back to me what i give to them.
It took me four hours to write a few paragraphs.
He IM’d me at 11:58pm to wish me a Happy New Year.

in between

Danny and i once got into a playful argument in the middle of Blockbuster a few years back over the color of my eyes. It went along the lines that I said my eyes were brown and he called me out and said they were not, they were hazel. A quick pull to a mirrored post showed that yes, compared to his eyes which were deep chocolate brown, mine
were looking pretty hazel.
But for all sense and purposes, my eyes are brown to me and when I cry, the ring around the irises turn a dark blue and get rather thick, almost as if someone drew a magic marker around the iris itself. there are tiny flecks of green/gold but they are minute and can only be seen when nose to nose. My eyes are not a beautiful hazel like shelly’s but they are, for all sense and purposes closer to a hazel then a brown if you want to get pedantic.
My eyes are like my hair, my life: my hair is neither straight nor curly. Because of it’s texture I have to use ethnic products occasionally to keep it in check. It is apparently soft as people keep wanting to touch it. My hair is also neither brown nor black, it’s closer to auburn if by judging by younger pictures of me were so (and the roots coming in). My eyebrows are black, but I’m the retarded redhead- pale skin, smattering of freckles but not enough OOMPH to make it follow through.
Christmas was weird.
I bought my brother a bottle of Le Male by Jean Paul Gaultier and he was driving my car. Paul was bathed in Obsession and sitting in the back. I was stuck in the passenger seat, head hanging out of the window like a dog panting for fresh air because I was being overwhelmed by the sickly sweetness of the scents. I couldn’t even smell myself (Chance by Chanel). Both of them threatened to cut farts, if that would make me feel better. This is what it has been like for a week. I feel like I’ve been stuck in some sort of retarded boys club between the two of them — they are like night and day. We took Jeff to an Indian restaurant and Jeff decided that the food “got a check at the no box” for while he ate his lamb vindaloo, he didn’t quite care for it. We drove into DC and saw the tree at the White House. I scanned the skies for bombs and missiles.
Merry Christmas.
While I will have a kickass entertainment system I will most likely not have a couch. I have flashes of insight of me sitting in front of the patio doors in my Ikea Poang chair watching the snow fall. The living room, will of course, be empty save for my computers and the occasional animal toy. The entertainment center will be in the bedroom. Guests will be resigned to automatically sleep with me to have a place to sit. Just kidding.
I have laughed so loud today, that Paul threatened to walk out of the restaurant, and so deeply my ribs ached and I started to hyperventilate. I sat on the toilet not even two hours earlier crying so hard my chest hurt. My brother pulled me up and told me to get sweats on. We took a walk around the complex and I had put on my UUNet hoodie, which I had bought for Paul many moons ago and it had shrunk in the washer and now i coveted. I had put a jaunty scarf around my neck as we walked around the complex freezing out asses off, talking about the future. It had snowed a few inches during the night and we were having a real White Christmas, but the wind was killer and cut
through to our skin. We double timed back to the apartment, all the while my brother reassuring me that I had to just play it out and shut the fuck up.
Some things happened that I don’t think Jeff expected to see, namely Paul’s anger. Paul smashed his fists down so hard on the desk my cold cup of coffee went flying all around the desk itself and seeped into everything. A few weeks back, we went out to dinner with Rob and Paul asked me if i was taking the vacuum (or not) and before I could answer, Paul said “doesn’t matter, I’m getting a bagless one” wherein Rob looked Paul and said “why are you being a dick?” A few nights ago, my brother and I sat on the floor sorting cables. cat5 in one box, miscellany cables in a third, spare parts in the second. I took a few unopened packages of cat5 and two power strips. I begged Paul to come and look at the computer closet because I was NOT going to receive a call from him in the future begging for XYZ back. He came in after we had packed that room and we were working on the bathroom and bedroom. “Why do you need two power strips?” “Did you check the other box.” “No.” “If you checked the other box, you would have seen
that I left you two power strips along with the strips for all the other equipment that is currently plugged in.” “Why do you need cat5?” And so it began. He started nickle and diming everything. He who would take no notice of what was being packed (“You are the one whose moving!”), now wants a piece of everything.
I read in someone’s journal recently they do not remember having been loved so selflessly before by someone or at least in recent memory, as in someone who was being attentive to them rather than the other way around. Alisha also said something to me in that same effect when we were hanging out before she left for her holidays about the difference between her current beau and her past beau’s was that she had pursued them and here he had pursued her. It was such a pleasant switch, it knocked her on her ass for a second. I know I need to pull back and regroup, which is fine, but there hasn’t been a single straight thought in my head in the last 6 months and I don’t expect I’ll find it now. Just so that you know.
But I will tell you I’m terrified.
It’s a quandary I debate with myself on as I have hope for the future that one day I will be happy and hopefully that will include a partner of some kind. I’m not so much bitter as much as feeling like the dog whose been kicked around a lot and will now bite at any attempts to befriend it.
My brother remarked last night, as we were watching “Powerpuff Girls: the Movie”, that we were both wearing grey tshirts and red sweat shorts. The other interesting thing is that after many years of proclaiming a few designers worthy to be on my backside, he’s now decided they are cool and has been giving me links to their websites.
There was more important stuff but I need to sleep.
x0x0x0

Pussy Whipped Men

My high school sweetheart, whom i’ve remained especially friendly with after nearly half my life, is going back to GR for the holidays. He’ll still be there when I drive in and when I said “hey you have my cell, call me to do coffee.” he said “if i have time.”
If i have time.
Which strikes me about this is that he found time enough to buy me delicious toys from blowfish.com but when it came down to meeting for coffee he can’t be bothered.
I hate pussy whipped men.

niche

when i tell people i was almost painfully shy as a child, they choose not to believe it. some of my actions now as an adult seem to speak this need to gain attention to myself, because i always felt like it was never quite there. people would believe anything i told them but the shy bit never caught on, even though it WAS painfully true.
when i was a child, i was already the tallest person in my class. my assertiveness was already showing as i was the one chasing the boys since kindergarten and not the other way around. once at a dinner party, we were to tell something about ourselves and i said when i was five i led some little boys out of kindergarten to the school playground across the street. I was bored with the damn playdoh. the host laughed and said i was too confident for my own good.
But as i got older, i fell farther and farther behind in female development, and not as in physical development but as in that I had no real female friends. the farther i fell, the more wigged out i became. Most of my friends were boys and it was further segregated more so when we were tested academically and I was the only girl who was “chosen” for the gifted program. when there is a dozen students in the class and 1/3 are being considered special, it makes it difficult for everyone else to get along, especially when you are 8. the program was abruptly curtailed.
as i got older, it got worse. i have very few female friends and those I do have, while i cherish them as much as possible, i don’t quite fit in with them. the whole issue of the males seems as daunting then as it does now as it was then because then i just wanted to push them in the mud, and now i want to push them into my bed. The irony is that one of the first things men say when the dating ritual start is how my assertiveness is refreshing but later on it turns into be the problem as we are breaking up. Especially my attitude about sex, apparently I think too much like a man.
But this is not where I wanted to go tonight because I’m terribly sad. I’m not sad because I’m leaving VA (though I’ll miss the friends I’ve made here very much), and I’m not sad because I’m not dating, but what I’m most sad about is that I’m nearly 30 and i still do not fit in.
Everyone has their little niche in life, whether it is as a mother, or a husband or wife. If they knit, read or sew or put babies heads on spikes, they have some sort of common denominator that makes them come together. I don’t have that. I don’t have my niche. I’m a 30 year old single white female who is going back to school, who stands 6′ tall, pierced, tattooed and collects legos. While I’ve been joining mailing lists and looking for local GR groups specifically to expand my interests, I don’t seem to fit in ANYWHERE. I feel like I’m 8 again and in Mrs. Buntrock’s (her real name) 3rd grade class waiting desperately for someone to notice me even though I had been going to school with these kids for years.
most people mistook me for being quiet as being a snob, and in some warped way i was. but this feeling of never quite fitting in has always bothered me and hence how i got nicknamed chameleon by a few high school friends because i floated in and out of all the social groups with ease. i belonged everywhere and nowhere and that’s reflected for most of my adult life.
Paul used to say that, in the beginning, it was great dating me because it was like getting a new girlfriend every six months. Hair, style, clothing: everything changes. But he says he can’t keep up because he never knows who he’s talking to and now all he wants is to date a stupid girl who will just want to be his haus frau.
but i digress.
i am scared and as frightened NOW as i was on that day when i started school for the very first time. as worried as the day i walked home from class with my math book wondering HOW in the world it was going to be possible to learn everything to get into high school. i am afraid of failing, I’m afraid of not doing my best. I’m afraid that I’ll be laughed at or mocked at for being the oldest sophomore in existence. I’m afraid they will talk behind my back.
when i had gone back to college when I was 22, i took the bull by the horns and got involved with the paper and other things. i leapt and i want to do that now, i see me at 22 and I want to do the same thing. I want to grab that moment again. I want to fight those thoughts of being a loser back down to the pit of despair so that they will never bother me again.
I just want to fit in.
—
before i took off tonight for dinner, ben came online and showed me pics from his outing to LOTR. Now the thing that struck me was not that he was obviously having a great time but that he had this fucking awesome scarf wrapped around his neck. the irony is that i love scarves. i have like five i trade off in the winter, from a bright orange boa- like one to a stripey wool one from the gap. what furthered the irony is that Paul has been bitching about his neck being cold since we had that cold snap and i offered him one of my ‘jaunty scarves’ and he kept whining. But this is Paul and i should have already known he would have whined, what the hell was i thinking? a few nights back when we were picking up Xmas presents to finish our shopping, we trolled one of the department stores and Paul couldn’t find the perfect BLACK (yet boring and not-stylish) scarf to wrap around his thick neck. As we walked past the Nautica display, next to it they had these really GREAT JANUTY SCARVES on sale. I mean, these fuckers were awesome. I was like OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. I wanted one for myself and had to smack my hand down because i did not need another scarf. I called my brother to see if he had a scarf and lost cell phone reception in the department store, so i walked out sans scarf. It was great seeing ben wearing a jaunty scarf. it made me smile.
Now this is jaunty scarf!
i am, as always,
the gay man trapped in a woman’s body.
x0x0x
PS: I’ll take the male models in the above website, naked and tied with a red ribbon. thanks Santa!

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