I made a decision. I made several actually, which is rather astonishing considering it's not beneath me to spend 25 minutes in the frozen foods aisle at Safeway, paralyzed with doubt and confusion over what I should spend the next week eating for lunch.
The revelation that continuing to do stupid shit can actually result in stupid shit happening got me to thinking.
First, I thought it was stupid that I would continue to do nothing at all but miss Alex in my life and that missing him constantly could lead to overlooking something that might be staring me right in the face. Strangely, missing him constantly has never caused me to overlook dessert.
I erased his numbers from my phone. That's right - looked him up and deleted contact. Not to brag, but the enormity of this one action has probably made me deserving of some kind of international award. If Al Gore can win an Academy Award for a PowerPoint presentation, I should at least be considered for "Best Something or Other" by some international committee.
Then I joined Weight Watchers. Weight Watchers is by no means paying me to say this, I am in fact paying them, and the organization would likely want to pay me to not proclaim any association because the first thing I did when I got my little booklet containing all the points values of food I may be considering for the next year of my life or however long it takes me to lose the equivalent of an obese kindergartner, was look up the points values for alcohol.
Also, they likely wouldn't pay for my endorsement because I only have six readers, so there's that.
The point is, I've joined, I'm following the plan and I've lost close to ten pounds. This is really a drop in the bucket and it seems to have come off of my boobs which is just a tad bit demoralizing, but I'm sticking with it.
Next, I've been avoiding the married firefighter. Note that I'm physiologically incapable of actually saying "NO" to the married firefighter. I just can't bring myself to deny him outright - I feel that doing so could actually lead all of my internal organs to strike at once, so I just avoid him. I've managed to come up with an astonishing array of excuses, such as:
I think I have my period.
I might be getting my period.
I'm not sure if I'm getting my period.
I might be getting a cold. And my period.
I have a cold. Also, my period.
I'm busy playing Just Dance for the Wii.
With my period.
Now I'm fairly certain he's concerned for my womanly health and shopping for a new gaming system.
In the midst of all this shining behaviour, and by what should be considered jaw-dropping rejections of both a firefighter and Alex, (which feels just as crazy to me as passing on oxygen and water because we're all full up over here)I thought about what could actually be important to me, romantically speaking.
For the last several months, it's been just one guy who makes me laugh. Who I talk to everyday. Who knows great stuff about me and really horrible stuff about me and who still talks to me every day. One guy who cares whether I had a bad day, or at least pretends to care enough to ask.
One guy who's met my sister and never got weird about meeting my family. One guy who's met my friends and never got weird, even when they told him my type was "entirely cro-magnon overly macho asshole."
One guy who still looks at me like he wants me really badly, even though I promised him it would be a long time before I ever jumped into bed with him. One guy who stuck around when I promised that long time to wait.
For all of his issues, and Goddess knows there are a few...the BT has really come through. Yes, he has some emotional/anxiety/trauma issues...but so do I. We'd match! Yes, so far the extent of our physical relationship has consisted of him wanting to jack off for me while I watch and try to look interested, but really, there is no safer sex than that. Even Mormons might agree. It's something to build on at least.
I've been attracted to him all along, interested in some way all along, and didn't some hippies once sing "If you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with?" I'm pretty sure they did. Normally I don't consider life advice from a group of people known best for preferring patchouli to deodorant, but this same demographic of people likely invented the party bong, so they can't be wrong all of the time.
For more than six months now, the BT has told me at various times that he needs to be more settled in his life to have a real relationship, the kind I told him I want. When I got impatient waiting he told me he hoped I could hold out just a little longer, and since it's not like I have anything else going on, that turned out to be quite easy.
I knew what it meant when he sat across from me in my living room, one lazy Friday night and told me his life was settled. Really settled. He was happy, he was in a good place and I was happy for him. And for me. Patience and friendship were paying off, so when I kissed him good-bye that night I felt pretty content too.
Who knew making smart decisions resulted in good things happening?
The BT is throwing a housewarming party this weekend, and I was actually quite nervous because it's been so long since I've been dating anybody, and even longer since I met the friends. I needed a little social support, so I sent the BT a text message asking if it would be OK if I brought an extra girl or two along.
As expected, he had no problem with that, and then his next message said, "Just so you know, I have a date coming to my party."
Just as an aside, it is completely bizarre how most of my life plays out over text messages and MSN. I think it's weird, and I've vowed that I should really try for more personal interactions, but for this instance, I was so grateful to be on MSN and not the phone that I probably would have kissed Bill Gates' platinum covered ass right then in gratitude.
If I had called instead of texting, all he would have heard on the other line was a series of gasping breaths and hard swallows. And not in a sexy way.
As it was, I texted back, "I'm happy you have a date coming." This was not what I was thinking, but it seemed more civilized than the "HOLY FUCKING SHIT ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??!!??" which was really the closest other option.
He writes back, "I just didn't want things to be awkward."
Dude. Having something stuck in your teeth is awkward. Forgetting somebody's name - also awkward. Dislocated limbs, possible arson and whatever the arresting and first officer on the scene is likely to be yelling through a bullhorn when he comes across that scene is not exactly what I would describe as being, "awkward." Dangerous? Yes. Epic? Quite possibly. Awkward...? Not exactly.
Then the BT asked me if this ruined my plans. I was so confused for a moment -- I couldn't think of what he was talking about, or how he knew about my plans. How did he know I was planning to stop doing stupid shit? How did he know my plan was to try for meaning and quality in my relationships? How did he know this could seriously fuck with my Weight Watchers points for the week? How was he inside my brain??
It turns out, he wanted to know if this ruined my plans to stop by his party with some girlfriends. Did I still want to come? I told him I really wasn't sure, and he said he could appreciate that. I was in fact, completely sure I would not be going to that party. I would go to the lost city of Atlantis before that party, and possibly, outer space.
What to do about this particular friendship is a decision I'm holding off on. I debated cutting all ties, I debated pretending everything is fine and I debated being an adult and having a conversation about why this hurts and why I need to go away for a while if him and I are to ever really be friends. It's a lot to think about.
Right now though, I have other things I need to get to. I need to buy groceries because I'm still on the Weight Watchers plan against all odds, and I need to clean my house.
The married firefighter's stopping by for a visit tonight.
As it turns out, somethings don't require that much thinking about after all.
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