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.
Tag: Benneke
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.
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!
she’s got looks that kill
the setting:
I’m currently sitting on my crappy ass couch in a pair of grey yoga pants + grey tshirt, with all three pugs sleeping on my extended legs. VH1 Classic is on, and right now Motley Crue is rocking out (lita ford was on a few minutes ago and i was rocking out to “kiss me deadly”). It’s 2am.
ROCK YOU LIKE A HURRICANE.
You’re probably wondering “Lisa, why are you sitting in your grey yoga pants watching vh1 classic on a Sunday night at 2am, using Paul’s laptop (which was yours to being with)?”
BECAUSE in the space of a week the following has occurred:
- Gas lines were cut and we were without heat or hot water for nearly two days, and gas was restored a few hours before the big storm.
- The tivo has comatosed and is on life support. Thanks to the beautiful Kara, who is uploading an ISO of the backup for v3 for me to download and screw with, it should be off of life support this week. You don’t understand, Tivo IS MY BOYFRIEND. I will skip a car payment to get another one if i have to (and wring Paul’s nuts out in case it doesn’t work).
- So Paul says to me today “Oh Lisa *lashes fluttering*, we have to use YOUR PC to fix the tivo. I run NTFS on my drives and we need fat32 to do the backup and go ahead and do XYZ and we’ll get this puppy working.” Well, XYZ doesn’t work and what started out as something simple, ends with Paul going “Oh me!” *gasping O face* “I don’t have special torque screwdriver wrench hatchet to take off primary drive so we can divorce the drives” which means my PC is now in parts (which you can view me and the dogs having a good old time at). I plug everything back in and double check all connections, make sure everything is grounded, etc. Boot up. Bios does not recognize either of my cdrom drives or neither of my drives. Hrm. Take out, remove, reinstall, double and triple check. Nothing. I’m so pissed I’m gritting my teeth and shooting daggers at Paul. He does this big ‘sigh’, I tell him to fix it or else I’m going to plant foot into arse and not remove until done so. I go and fuck off. Do laundry. Vacuum. Feed the dogs. Do dishes. Wax the eyebrows. Start on dinner. I come and find him standing up playing GTA4:Vice City and he says super flirtatiously “OH sweetie, I can’t get it to work”. I glare daggers. He pauses game and goes back into the office. As dinner finishes, he comes back out and says “Oh i got one drive working and one cdrw working. You don’t need two cdroms.” I speak through my teeth “Who are you to say if i need two or not?” He just looks at me, blinking like an epileptic watching video games, “Oh we’ll fix it later sweetie. Don’t worry.”
WHAT THE HELL HAS HAPPENED TO VAL KILMER THAT HE’S WHORING HIMSELF OUT TO NIKON DIGITAL?
ahem, so YAH. So i decide while I’m making dinner, that I want to write a faq about dating myself. Not me dating me, but for others to read to date me. Get it got it? Good. Because I need to come w/ a large warning label in hot pink that says PLEASE READ BEFORE OPENING.
Smashing Pumpkins doing the Fleetwood Mac song “landslide” was bad. Dixie Chix doing the “landslide” makes me want to stick hot pokers in my eyes. Though the one chick has this super cool hair going on.
But i digress.
Btw, I talk to the tv. and the radio. Just so you know.
So, it’s going on later, the Soprano’s are ending (holy shit!) and Paul and I are watching some Real Sex episode on HBO about the Moonlight Bunny Ranch in Nevada. I’m like, woah that is fucking cool. They make some crazy ass money and they are so comfortable with their sexuality and I so admire that. I have such a Madonna/Whore complex going on in my head sometimes it’s disgusting. I was telling Alisha about this the other night, that I admire people who are really so comfortable with their sexuality. I’m comfortable with my sexuality but i have this titch of exhibitionism going on and I really want to let her out.
Which is neither here nor there. So we are watching the Real Sex special and I’m saying “cool!” or “wow!” every five minutes, jamming away at my faq (and I just had gotten to the section and me and sex, which was getting REALLY interesting and I was getting supremely horny) when i put my feet down on the rug and i feel something wet. I thought I had spilled my beer (err Ben, I found a lone beer in the back of the fridge :o) and then I think “Oh fuck, what dog pissed on the carpet.” And i step gingerly around and the whole damn carpet is sopped! I scream and jump up *squish squish squish* and go grab towels and the towels are getting soaked quickly and the water is heading towards my pc. I make Paul unplug it and hand it to me and I run with it like it’s my baby to the kitchen and lay it gently on the counter. I also make him unplug everything in that vicinity. The carpet is fastly getting more soaked and it’s also now heading into the hall. I call the after-hours line and the security guy shows up and he’s like ‘yep you have a leak’ (thanks genius) and he says he’s going to get the maintance guy to come and fix it.
We retreated back to the office. I sat in my chair which is now parked behind Paul, Pugsley had jumped up and drapped himself across my chest (I guess he knows a great pair of tits when he lays on them) and I’m burning holes in the back of Paul’s head. He’s like “What did i do NOW.”
Well gee, I have no laptops (both were shipped back to Toshiba to get repaired on Saturday, and this is the one thing i don’t blame him for). My pc is in the kitchen and only half works. I can’t watch tv because when we took the tivo out of the entertainment center he could not be bothered to put things back together. He is sitting there flanked by two PCs and a laptop not giving a shit that I HAVE NOTHING. All my shit is either pieced apart or broken or something.
I continue glaring. Apparently I look the devil incarnate when i do this.
And I kid you not, the first thing I thought about when the idea of turning the water off was “Fuck. I can’t masturbate tonight, because then I can’t wash my hands.”
ahahahaha. Yes well. I have an active imagination. I refuse to apologize for it.
Paul gets off his ass and hooks the satellite box back to the tv so I can watch tv and I click on VH1 Classic as they were doing 80s special and I’m bopping around with the dogs drapped around me watching old def leppard, twisted sister, and new order. Hence why all the music references. Sammy Haggar, still cannot drive 55.
But I’m LAUGHING. I’m laughing because everything is so absurd. I’m grossing myself out because I did not shower today and now i have NO WATER. Paul’s like “oh we’ll just do the ghetto showering (using the water stored in the fridge) tomorrow and you’ll live” and I’m making faces because I’m grossed out by it. I won’t even be able to make CAWFEE tomorrow morning. Fuck, I’m gonna die.
But I’m laughing because the water being turned off till it’s repaired tomorrow is the least of all the shit that is going on THIS WEEK. Even having no heat for nearly two days didn’t top this one.
I’m laughing because in a week my brother has back stabbed me on various things and I had to remove him from my mailing list and now I’m looking for a one bedroom apartment which might be sketchy but I’ve never ever lived alone. I’m laughing because my lawyer calls me and tells me on Saturday that he was unable to sell stocks to put cash into my account and he’s going on vacation on 12/10 and will not be able to get money into the account until 12/20, which was the day I was planning on leaving, which would not be too terrible if it were not for the fact how much stuff gets pulled out from my debit before then. Paul has offered me cash but I refuse to take it because as he said tonight “YOU ARE NOT LEAVING UNTIL I HAVE A CAR”. Oh the fuck I am not! I will be out of here before January 1st and no later and even if that means I go without anything but a car full of goods. You had THREE YEARS to get a car. Not. My. Problem. Kiss. My. Ghetto. Ass. Don’t ask. In my head it sounded like a good idea to stay at the time.
I’ll be spending Christmas alone due to reorganization issues. Again. Paul did this whole spiel Saturday night about how “OH we can stay together for Christmas and XYZ” and then drops this bomb on me while I’m orgasming eating at this awesome restaurant that night that ‘Oh, i HAVE to go home for Christmas blah blah blah’. I wanted to take the coffee I was drinking and toss it in his face. Then he comes back with oh you have to stay through the New Year so that we can have our departing sex. Right. This coming from someone who has believed/accepted or said I was a gold digging whore, that i’ve ruined his life, used him, abused him, drove away all our friends, held grudges, was rude crude and mean. And he wants to still fuck me… Sure. Whatever you say.
——
I’m laughing because I’m dying right now. I’m dying because I’m watching this video for Santana called “Game of Love” and people are smooching and if you gave me a choice between having okay sex or awesome kissing, I’m taking kissing hands down. I’d probably take kissing over most anything actually. It’s everything about the act, the hands, the whole caressing of the face. The whole burning look, hands in the hair. I’m so tired of dating guys who are crap ass kissers and are under this delusion that they are gods in bed. And it’s not just one ex it’s like majority of them. As TLC says “Girls Talk”. So back to this whole kissing thing, it’s a fetsih or something but whatever it is, the whole ritual gets me hot. Especially if the guy has good lips. mmmmmmmmmm. I can go for hours on this little fantasy alone. days even. Hell months even. 😉
and as it’s going on 6am, final note is that i need something answered. I have an online journal. This is my place. My space. My feelings. No regrets. So riddle me this batman, why is it when I start dating someone they are like “OH LISA, you are so UNLIKE anyone else. You are so (insert tired cliche). I’ve learned so much about you via your journal.” But when the breakup happens, as it tends to do, why is it their FIRST offense is this damn journal? ALWAYS. Without fail. Always. Always.
—–
I’ll leave you with my horoscope for today:
Dear lisa, here is your Horoscope for December 09, 2002
People around you might think that you have never matured, lisa, and that you still have the mind of a child. It might not seem obvious at first, but your light-hearted attitude is also a symbol of great wisdom. As others, who have committed to long-term romances, you will find out that you will never lose your light-heartedness.
—–
x0x0x0
leuke schoenen, gaan we neuken?
predictions and journals
at the end of every relationship, it’s the same thing: the predictions. the ending of who is going to be doing what when how and whom and when this is all going to happen.
I predict that Paul will be dating again in a few months, and probably getting close to someone shortly after that. He cannot be alone, period. He will not mourn the end of our relationship or mourn me, and hence why I’ve been doubly amused to find out that the vultures were already tap dancing around my grave thanks to Paul telling me.
Paul perdicts I’ll end up w/ either Ben or Danny. Ben because he’s new, european, tall etc ad nasuam and Danny because he’s history and apparently my eyes get big as saucers when I talk abotu either one of them. I apparently can make no choices of my own .
