Why is this cracking me up so much?

I’m flying to Kansas City tomorrow to 1) help my mom move into her new house, and 2) see him, him, and him.

I wish this was the appropriate place to talk about dating.  I might have to start a secret blog.

So many of my favorite clothes are wearing out – the staples.  The jeans.  The black pants.  The basic shirts.  I’m Raggedy Annie these days, threadbare and frayed.

I’ve decided to not be vegan (surprise, surprise).  It was a good experiment for a bit, but I think that the biggest take-away is just to eat more real food – which means cooking more – which is actually going to be great.

Tom Petty is coming to Denver?  WHO IS COMING WITH ME????!?

If this is true, let the record state that I predicted this long ago.  So cliché.

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For some time now, I have been in… a relationship?  Perhaps not the right word.

Something special.  Something that burned fast and bright, like a bottle rocket – but after a short time, burned right out.  Something that, like so many beautiful things, was fleeting.

While the ending of it was sad, our parting conversation was honest, warmhearted, and generous – to an eavesdropper with no context, we may have seemed enamored.  We expressed care and respect for one another, demanding nothing in return, gracefully letting each other go.

I have never experienced such a healthy goodbye with a man.

We successfully cared for, and received care from, each other.  We successfully opened our hearts and dropped our defenses.  We successfully took a risk.  And in the end, for legitimate reasons, we successfully walked away, shoulders back and selves intact.

For me, this is a victory.  Just because it hurt did not mean that I was losing – the hurt actually meant that I WON.  It meant that I had allowed someone in – something that I find difficult to do.

I experienced a relationship ending well – and it’s one of the most radical things I have ever done.

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There are few things in life as wonderful as a good man.

Take heart.  They do exist.

The only thing that I don’t understand is her dating life.  From the songs that she writes, roughly 50% of her time is spent kissing boys on the sidewalk in the rain.  The other 50% of her time is spent locking eyes with boys across the room at parties with twinkling lights.  Is this what my life should look like?

I AM A MISERABLE FAILURE.

Guilty non-pleasure
Last weekend, I finished the “Twilight” series.  It took me over a year, because the entire process was so painful.  I don’t know why I kept reading – mostly because I just decided to, and once I decide to do something, it’s hard to convince me otherwise.

There are so many things that bother me about these books, the least of which being the “heroine” (can we call her that?), Bella Swan.  A vapid shell of a girl, she offers nothing good on her own – and Stephenie Meyer allows the hot, capable, super-powered Edward to be her only saving grace, literally.

It’s totally pathetic.

Then again, I contributed $10 for each of the 4 paperbacks to advance the vampirific cause, so I guess I should just shut my mouth.

She has been making her life spin on her own for a good long while now.  And while she might like to meet a good man someday, in theory, she would rather be alone than wish that she was.

However, hypothetically speaking, let’s just say that out of curiosity, she decided to try online dating.

And hypothetically, she was matched with this man.*

And while she is sure that he is a very nice person, in this make believe scenario, thus ended the completely theoretical experiment.

*Also, hypothetically, of course, if said girl happened to have an imaginary friend named the Handy Graham, this would, in theory, be his favorite story.

What does that MEAN?  What are they (you?) referring to?  And should single people be holding for it – whatever it is?

Or is it just a completely bogus statement, fabricated to assuage the general relationship-befuddlement that seems to expand and swell the further we get from college?

I’m curious.

If there is anything that I want to be, it is humble – humble, and teachable.  So THANK YOU to the brave dudes (especially Joey – the catalyst for many of these thoughts today) who had the guts – spine – balls – to challenge my thinking.

Which brings me to my first point: it was wrong of me to emasculate men – denying them of the very thing that makes them male (um… balls… sheesh, I can’t wait to see what keywords bring people to this post) – for not being able to communicate in the way that most women would like them to.  I am not a man-hater – I LOVE men! – and in no way desire to make eunuchs out of a bunch of surely well-meaning guys.  I’m sorry for sounding – snip, snip – harsh and judgmental.

Here’s the deal: in an ideal world, men would communicate clearly.  In an ideal world, women would communicate clearly.  In an ideal world, both sexes would have eyes to see and ears to hear the other person loud and clear.

That is obviously not the world that we live in – due to culture and socialization and upbringing and experiences.  So things get a little bit muddy, a little bit complicated, and sometimes, a little bit… hostile.  Men aren’t up front with their feelings.  Women send mixed signals – a “come hither” straight into a stiff arm.  One person doesn’t know who he is, the other doesn’t know what she wants – or vice versa.  Television only adds to the confusion, portraying men as bumbling idiots, and women as capable-yet-snarky ice queens (think “Everybody Loves Raymond,” or “Home Improvement”).

Who are we?  Who should we be?  Men and women alike are confuzzled.

I so wish that was a real word.

When it comes to love, we’ve all been hurt.  We’ve all been disappointed.  We’ve all got skeletons in the closet, and wounds that haven’t quite healed.  And for as much as we want them, it’s easy to make the opposite sex into the “enemy.”  I have my own stories – things that have happened that have made me a bit gun-shy when it comes to putting myself out there – and when I think of these disgraces, even years later, I still want to bury my head in the sand.

I think it’s safe to say that on a very fundamental level, women want to feel “worth it” to a guy – worth the risk, worth whatever it takes.  But hello – this is 2009.  A man can’t exactly prove his devotion by riding into battle with her hanky in his pocket.  So some of us feel like the least he could do is say, “Hey, you seem great.  I’d love to take you out sometime?”

Then again, the feminist movement sort of threw a wrench in that plan.  We women-folk sure asserted our independence, didn’t we?  Dang it.  We’ve stabbed ourselves in the back.  But that’s another post entirely…

Bottom line: I am backing off from the stance I took on Monday, however playfully I meant it when I first wrote it.  I don’t expect for a guy to take the reins, run the show, ask me out, sweep me off my feet, order me the lamb chop at some swanky restaurant while I sit mute and adoring.  Can you imagine?  Me?  Being conquered?  I do hope for a partnership, with honest and frank communication, equal parts respect and affection – and prior to a relationship, I think that means that both parties are going to need to communicate our interest in whatever way makes sense.

Sigh.  This just zapped every ounce of brain power I possess.

We all just want to matter to someone.

I wish it was easy.  And I hope that one day, it will be.

1) If a guy is interested in me, he should have the guts – spine – balls – to do something about it.

2) If he is interested in me and does NOT have the guts – spine – balls – to do something about it, then he’s not really someone I want to be with anyway.

3) If he is not interested in me, he is not asking me out.

In any case, I leave it up to him.  It’s as simple as that.

(Andy Merrick, you know I love you – you and your many, many words on the subject.  Are you ever going to finish your series, slacker?)

Hey. A totally fair question.

I am excited to hear more of his thoughts in the coming days – and to read any comments you may have on the subject. Let Andy know what you think…

Lit at work
All of the lights in our gigantic, sprawling office space are operated by motion sensors – as long as there is movement in the room, the lights stay on. Because of this, when walking from room to room to set up for lunches or fetch cups of coffee for visitors, I feel as powerful as God: LET THERE BE LIGHT… and there was light.

However, this feature is significantly less cool when I have been sitting completely and utterly motionless at my desk for so long that the lobby lights just… go out. And then, even MORE significantly less cool when I, the Temptress, sitting in my T.J. Maxx version of “business professional” in the darkness of the silent room, frantically wave my arms above my head.

Let there be light, indeed.

And as a final FYI…
When I sneeze, the crystal vase on the desk rings. It is legit.