Letting go

Do you ever get to the point where you realize it's time to let someone go? That the relationship you once had isn't there anymore and it seems like more work than it is pleasure? I think I may be at that point with someone who has meant a lot to me through the years. Someone who still means a tremendous amount to me.

She knows most of my deepest secrets, my insecurities, and has seen me at my best and worst. She knows my character flaws and has seen me fail more times than I can count. She has helped me pick myself up and has been proud of me when I've persevered. She has been one of my strongest supports and at times, my harshest critic. She has been my best friend.

The problem with a person like this, though, is they know how to hit you where it hurts. Every single time. Can knock the wind out of you with just a few chosen words. They can remind you of your failures and all the flaws you wish you didn't have. Unfortunately, I feel as though she cannot see past the mistakes I've made. My character flaws. She knows they're there and yet she's still chosen to be my friend.

In the past few years, however, I've felt that sometimes she uses them to hurt me. Rather than accepting me for who I am, flaws and all, she turns my weaknesses against me and uses them to her advantage. I feel as though I'm always apologizing, tail tucked between my legs, whimpering off and begging for forgiveness.

Not this time. I've had it. I'm done. I don't feel as though a relationship of any kind should be so much work. Apparrently I did something wrong about a month ago. I hadn't heard from her until last night. I figured one of two things were going on: a) something awful happened and she isn't returning any calls or e-mails, or b) she's pissed and is giving me her infamous silent treatment. It was b. I told her I'd call tomorrow, but I don't think I will. She's been planning what to say for weeks and I know she'll be on the offensive. That puts me in a place where I will more than likely say something I don't mean. Knee-jerk reactions never get a person far.

I think this relationship isn't worth the work. We've worked through b.s. like this in the past, but she never fully lets things go. Well, I'm going to let go this time. We'll meet again in a future place, but right now, it's time just to let her go.

When did this happen?

My birthday is in a couple days and I'm beginning to wonder -- WHEN DID I GET FUCKING OLD!?!?! Seriously. I bought a couch last week and that was one of the most exciting days I've had in recent memory.

Some guy in the bar at the show asked me to show him my titties. In the past, I would have laughed and given him a sneak peak of the girls, but what did I do this time? That's right, crossed my arms and pushed him away. When he tried to twist my nipple anyway, I nearly slapped him.

I like my daily routine, take great pleasure in making myself an excellent dinner, and am continually thinking about my next "big" purchase -- a washer and dryer, a set of tables for my living room, or maybe even a dining room table and chairs.

During the week, I'm in bed by 11:00, up at 7:30 and feel completely wiped out of I get less than 7 hours of sleep. Gone are the days when I could shut the bar down, head over to Dustin's to sober up for a few hours, be in bed around 4:00, and wake up to be at work by 8:30. Past is the time when Em and I could have a couple Guinesses and throw darts every single night without consequence. And I doubt I'll ever be able to have a beer every single night for 20 nights in a row without feeling like crap.

I'm beginning to fear that the little things that used to give me so much pleasure when I was younger will never do the same for me again. The first kiss? How about the first time you sleep with him... a $5000 horse? Try $15,000... that "new" couch from Craigslist? Try Crate & Barrel.

Sigh.

Retro Flashbacks

I don't know what the deal is, but in the past couple days, two people from high school have contacted me after not having spoken, seen one another, or e-mailed in 10-years. I have also had three conversations in the same number of days about the same time period, as in I-can't believe-we've-been-friends-for-a-decade-type conversations.

It's really strange how the memories keep flooding back. I was trading stories with one of those who e-mailed and man, it seems like just yesterday we were trekking to SexWorld, thinking we were all rebellious and bad-ass... then I fast-forward to now when I can't even count the number of times I've been there for various goodies. What I wouldn't give to be so innocent and naive again.

And I know it's not the healthiest thing to wonder "what could have been," but all of these conversations have me thinking about just that. What would have happened had I stayed with Jon? Where would I be had I gone to Stanford, or Carleton, or even if I had gone to the U right away? What if someone who had the hots for me way back then would have revealed himself? Where would I be now? I almost certainly wouldn't be Winston-Salem, NC, but who knows if I'd be this comfortable and happy with myself. Who knows if I would have had such an interesting journey here, through exotic places, meeting amazing people along the way... Who knows... who knows...

Woulda, Shoulda, Coulda, I guess.

Arts and Crafts

Some people paint, some draw, some knit, some scrapbook. This is my art:

This is my fourth night in Williamston, NC at the Martinganza Quarter Horse Show. I came here to band and braid and am leaving about $360 richer (after expenses). I'm also leaving with yet another intense desire for a horse. I've tried to shake the habit at so many various points in my life, but I cannot. So, my new plan is to hit the hunter shows and braid, putting my earnings away in a shoebox until I have enough saved up to buy myself a horse. I think it's a great plan.

Liberty Plaza, ca 1974

Have I ever mentioned that the building I work in is a piece of crap? My office is nice, and boy do I appreciate my three big windows and my very own door, but man, the bulidng is ugly, old, and smells. They still have a smoking room INSIDE, for crhissakes... I guess that's what I get for living in the home of Big Tobacco.

Yesterday I was reviewing deposition videos and started to smell something burning. I immediately turned off my heater, but alas, still the smell. I then thought maybe it was my CD-ROM drive since I had been watching so many videos, but alas, not that either. Apparently the smell permiated all of FirmLogic's floors and nobody knew what it was. I was hoping that the building would burn down overnight, but alas, it did not. So I get back to work today and guess what! Only one of our 30-year-old elevators is working. Yes, for a 12-story building, only one elevator.

Now they're testing the fire alarms... hmm... maybe they should do that before something starts burning and the smell filters through our vents, hmm???

If you want to date, please have a shred of normalcy. And don't live with your parents.

Upon moving to NC, I decided it was about time to jump back into the dating pool. Unfortunately, the dating pool here, I've found, is much larger than the gene pool. Here are a few requests I make of anyone who wants to go out:

1. Please don't live with your parents.
2. Please don't have lived with your parents until age 30.
3. Please don't try to shove your tongue down my throat on the first date. No, you "kissin' on me" isn't going to make me like you any more. If I say "no" now and you keep trying to push the issue, what's to say you're going to stop when I say "no" in the future?
4. Please, if you say you're going to make reservations, make them. I don't want to end up at TGI Fridays in the mall.
5. Please don't tell me you're "unemployed, but lookin' for somethin'." What do you put on your resume? Objective: Just lookin' for sumthin' to make a few bucks and score some points with the ladies," is not going to cut it.
6. Please, if you have weird fetishes, like, for example, you want to watch me take a dump, keep that fetish secret. Some things are best kept to yourself.
7. Please, PUH-LEASE, PRETTY PRETTY PLEASE WITH CHERRIES ON TOP, don't ask me about my bathroom habits.
8. Please know how to use apostrophes. An apostrophe is used to indicate the posessive, not plural.

Whew. That felt good. So gentlemen, if you fit into any of those categories, I'm sorry, it's just not going to work... it's not you, it's me....

P.S. There are a few stories from the above experience that I will tell, but it will cost you a beer.

Note To Self

Do not, repeat, DO NOT drink 3 glasses of wine and then an untold number of little plastic cups of spiked punch. Your 1997 prom may not have been great, but drinking it up at the "80s Prom" party is not going to make up for that. Plus, you do not look good while puking.

Regards,
Yourself










P.S.
Mikey's wedding was awesome, Emily was beautiful, and who cares if it was 20 below outside? It was gorgeous and warm inside! Much love to you and your beautiful wife, Mike!