Always a bridesmaid...

Hey there, again, more radio silence. Sorry. I've been super swamped with work, which has been good in many ways. A nice distraction from other things that have been passing through my head, and good to be feeling productive in the professional sense again. Plus, I've been getting a lot of exercise, and trying to find some balance that way. But there are a few things that keep resurfacing in my mind.

Like, one of my best friends got married yesterday. She and I have been friends for about 8 years now. Coincidentally, she was housemates with my oldest friend in the world, who moved to DC around the same time I did. When I went to go meet up with him at his place for the first time, I ran into her, and was completely smitten. She was pretty amazing, and saucy, and I fell for her instantly. We became friends, and she seemed rather encouraging of my crush on her. I'd drop by and bring her cute, funny gifts, or bottles of wine to share with her friends. It was fun. And when she started dating this new guy, I wasn't sure how I felt. I mean, I always felt a bit too shy around her, like I didn't know if she just thought it was endearing how awkward I was with my crush, or if she liked me back. And I think that's been true much of my life.

Many times, I sat back, and hoped that my obvious, yet restrained crushes would let the subjects of my affection know that I liked them, and that I was waiting for a green light. But what if I didn't know how that green light would actually manifest? Would it be a lean in for a kiss? Would it be a sweet conversation about how they liked me, too? Or were they waiting for me to have the balls to make a move first? Enter: my problem with dating. I don't think I am particularly good at those early stages. Thinking now about "all of the loves that could have been, if I only thought of something charming to say."

I am *really* happy for my friend that she found someone that really works with and for her. I think they are well suited, so my bumbling feelings are not so much out of jealousy, but more based in self-reflection wondering if I was liking people in the 'wrong' way. Should I have been more brave, more brazen? Would I have swept more people off their feet? Possibly the right people? I dunno. How can I quantify that now in retrospect? And I don't want to get all spiraling in self doubt, and regret. But it makes me wonder.

My friend whole-heartedly wanted to be married, and to have her boyfriend propose. When he did, there was a noticeable sense of relief in her demeanor. She seemed more calm, and self assured, less worried in general. She knew where she belonged. It must be a nice feeling.

I, of course, don't know where I belong yet. I spent about a half an hour at their place yesterday checking on their cats, flipping through the heaps of wedding magazines feeling more and more confused about where exactly I am in my trajectory. (For those of you who may not know me that well, I am a bit of a dandy... I love all things fanciful. An ex once commented on my home decorating style as "part old lady, part gay man," with my mid century antiques, and shiny silver accoutrement. I *love* design magazines, decorating suggestions, and party planning like nobody's business...) So, I was partly in heaven reviewing these mags, and partly in hell, remembering that I am not anywhere close to even thinking about a wedding. Sigh~

I wasn't able to go to my friends' destination wedding, which may have been for the best anyway, considering my state of mind, and my former crush on her. I fear I would've been weeping through the whole thing, and not outta tears of joy for the happy couple.

Always a bridesmaid, never a bride... Er, something like that.

Missing in-action

Hey there, sorry that I've been kind of MIA on our asses. The truth is, I've been swamped with work, and needing to sort of stay out of my head. I have a tendency to over think things, and with so many conversations about what I've been posting on "this here blog" – it's been somewhat intense. Great, but also nice to not have to think about what to say for a few days. A nice blog-cation. (Ok, that doesn't work. Guess I'm rusty now. Grrr.)

After a few days of gardening like mad, hiking with my dog in the 'quiet' part of town, and wasting endless amounts of time looking for new shoes and new jackets (since my shoulders have outgrown many coats from previous seasons... Ugh!), I'm feeling a little more energized and ready for my 'come back!'

Egh, maybe.

As I was scanning through afternoon radio, bored with all of the countless cds in my car, I stumbled upon some list the female side kick was reading on Ryan Seacrest's show. It was a list of things that women find attractive in men, so of course I stopped scanning to tune in immediately. It went as follows:

1. Scars: Women think scars are sexy because they project an air of courage. (How do you spell that version of "air?") I've got scars. Can we pretend that they make me more attractive???

2. Plants: Women think plants are a sign that men are nurturing and can take care of bidniz. (Unless they are dying or dead. Or are Venus Flytraps and each hamburgers that the dude has left over on his kitchen counter. Not sexy.)

3. Sweat: Women think that sweat is sexy. I assume they mean within reason, like a woman craves the scent of her boyfriend's pheromones, and not like the creepy greasy pit stained guy at the water cooler at 11:00 am.

4. Glasses: Women think specs are a sign of intelligence. (I started wearing glasses in elementary school, soon after I accidentally looked at the sun through high powered binoculars, while looking for the moon. Glasses on me = the lack of intelligence in third grade. Wah wah wah... But, shhhh – don't tell anyone, if the result of my stupidity makes me look hotter now that I'm in my mid-thirties.)

5. Gray hair: Women think this is a sign of maturity and elegance. Hott damn! Maybe I've got a shot after all, with all of this gray coming in at the temples.

Now if only thinning hair, dyslexia, and a newly emerging cookie gut (as my vice is a mean salty oat cookie, and not beer) were seen as attractive, too, then maybe I could be the perfect man. I've got scars, house plants AND a front and back garden, I can sweat like the best of them (they don't call these "hot flashes" for nuthin!), I have bad vision, which somehow makes me look smarter (supposidely), and I'm going gray. Five for five!

That's right, ladies... So what if I'm basically a tall dwarf, with a hipster combover, who usta be a chick... Those don't detract *that much* from this list of desirables, do they?

I rest my case. (Only out of exhaustion and boredom.) It was nice to think that I may have a chance, tho.

Mama's Boy

My best friend told me about a funny conversation she had with her mother the other day. Her Mom basically said: "Of course you think you are the most special girl in the world. Your father raised you to think that... And of course you might have a tough time finding a partner who can treat you as well as you believe you deserve to be treated, under those circumstances. You believed that just because you are cute and funny that everyone would be lining up to date you, and feel lucky if they had the chance." (Or something to that effect.)

It was a wake up call to my best friend.

And it dawned on me that I had the reverse situation. My father was ever-ready to knock me down off of my imaginary pedestal, but my mother did genuinely believe that I was a good kid, deserving of all of the chances that she never had in life. She is a care-taker extraordinaire – she is a cancer -astrologically speaking-, an elementary school teacher, mother of two, and an all around bleeding heart do-gooder.

Don't get me wrong, there are no little chirpy birdies fluttering around her as if she was Snow White. An ex of mine once remarked: "Your Mom is this really tough but sweet woman. She'd have your back in a knife fight, and would bake you your favorite muffins the next morning." And it's true.

(As a small child, I remember my mother in her orange terrycloth night gown literally throwing herself up against our back door, as some creepy burglar tried to break in and steal her purse sitting on the kitchen table. She braced herself against the door and yelled repeatedly: "YOU'RE NOT GETTING IN HERE!!!" And he didn't. Go Mom!)

My Mom did everything she could to help ease my anxiety from being too sensitive in a world that can be very abrasive. All in all, I know that she loves me and really does want the best for me, even when we disagree. (Like her resistance to my transition, yet the other day she called me her son for the first time ever. It was incredible!) But I wonder if I have been spoiled in that way that my best friend is now contemplating about her own upbringing.

Seriously, will I ever find a prospective partner that will have my back in a knife fight AND bake me my favorite muffins the next morning? I mean, aren't we all just looking for that?

Back that ass up...

My BFF and I had an informative conversation last week about the importance of the much debated role of the back up plan. Not all people that reside in this role are our 'Plan B's.' Some are simply people that we haven't yet dated because of timing, geography, or other such symbolic obstacles. But these metaphorical seat fillers are an amazing addition to our romantic repertoire, often instilling a much needed jolt of hope and curiosity down the line.

This BFF and I were discussing the fact that neither of us had back up plans anymore. We had either tried to date these specific people, and things went awry, or -for whatever reason- they had somehow expired.

There is something to be said for the peace of mind and ego boosts that a back up plan can grant you... Relatedly, it can feel like a terrible void when you have exhausted your plan B's, and feel like you have *no* options of interest left in the world. A sad day indeed.

So, the next time that cozy acquaintance looks your way, and makes you smile in that ridiculously coy way – thank your lucky stars that you have this person to revive your spirits.

Matchmaker, Matchmaker

I was joking with someone the other day that I need a matchmaker to help me find love. My friend responded by saying I should go on one of those TV shows about getting fixed up. The one that I've watched a bit was "Millionaire Matchmaker," where the magic-maker Patti rips into the wealthy guys for the heaping mound of issues that they possess. I feel like I learned a thing or two by watching other guys just as clueless as I am, rich or poor.

My friend said: "Ya, go on that one." Um, as the title says – I'd have to become a millionaire first. Think there's a "Hundredaire Matchmaker" out there? I need all the help I can get.

Better never than late...

A few months ago I had dinner and drinks with a good friend of mine who is a reviewer for the Zagat Restaurant Guide. We went to the W Hotel in downtown DC, and got shown the royal treatment. It was pretty amazing. I thought to myself: "I bet this is how real dates are supposed to be..." I wore tailored charcoal suit pants, my favorite pink striped shirt, and well polished black dress boots – I felt like such an adult for a change.

While there, my friend dished some dirt on her latest dating epiphanies. She mentioned that she had been on some underwhelming dates since I saw her last. One of the guys she went out with made an off the cuff comment that sort of changed her life.

This guy mentioned that many of the women that he had been seeing lately would show up exactly 15 minutes late to their dates. For obvious reasons, he got kind of annoyed at constantly waiting for these women he didn't even know yet.

My friend, having not been previously informed of her suitor's distaste for women who were late, then had to sit through this whole diatribe about respect for others' time, and how it starts things on the wrong foot. She had no clue. In her mind, she simply didn't want to arrive early and seem desperate.

Unfortunately, there was no love connection with this one fellow, but she heard him loud and clear, and hasn't been late for a date since.

Funny how things we do in order to not look desperate can accidentally shoot us in the foot. I wish I could have someone sit me down and give me that much needed talk.

Dog Tired

I haven't been writing as much over the past few days because I have been super tired. I think getting stuck in the rain for a few days in a row took its toll on me. Then I brought my neurotic formerly-abused pit bull to the "special needs" vet in Maryland. She is a behaviorist who spent over three hours with my dog and me to deduce his diagnosis and prognosis. Her recommendation was to put my severely anxious dog on Prozac. Funny...

He was such a champ, even though we nervously paced the office for three hours. The vet was amazingly sweet, and wooed him with treats, and stillness. (This last part makes sense if you've ever met my dog. Oh, Bubba...)

Then in the last 15 minutes of the appointment, the vet warned me that she was going to stand up and come over to me to hand me some paperwork that she needed me to review. We both acknowledged that those kinds of changes can set anxious dogs off – which it did. Arg!

I got this dog when I was in a serious, long term relationship. Both the relationship and the dog itself slowly became more than I could handle, with my ex-partner and this rescue dog having huge mood swings that felt explosive and frightening. In many ways, I am relieved to not be in that relationship anymore, but feel stuck with this dog that I love very much – but one that also restricts so much of my life. I can't imagine giving him up, as I know it would most likely be a death sentence for him, having been abused and being a pit bull, not a great combination.

It's just sad, to know that much of his neuroses and bad reactions are the direct result of humans treating him violently. And now that he is "broken" society blames him, (or his breed). I guess it just hits a little too close to home for me, having been mistreated in my early development, and wishing that I had better reactions to things, as well. It feels like a metaphor, like my dog is my 'mirror character' in the film of my life. It's just tough as this is not the life I would have signed on for if I could choose. So, I'm trying to rectify those deviations, and recalculate my steps to try to make some semblance of a life that I'd like to be living.

Thinking about dating, and somehow I just feel exhausted by the whole idea right now. Left feeling dog tired...

More later, after I get some stuff done, and hopefully a little more refreshed and revived!