No Man's Land

No....Just, so much, no.

I have been concentrating on not concentrating on dating.  It’s going fairly well except I feel as if I’m still pining a little bit for DJ. This whole falling in love thing sounds terrifying and always has to me.  Falling at all is an awful thing and so if there’s any more love to be had, I believe I’ll jump in or parachute or round house karate kick it in the face or something.

I’m still getting emails from TBone once a month on the regs.  I got a Merry Christmas text from DJ which I did not answer because the last time I let myself engage in any shape or form with him, I ended up sleeping with him and believing all his my baby talk and all the shit that made me crazy the first two times and then almost going on another drunken crying jag when he didn’t return my last text.

There is, however, a man in my office building that we must name, so ima call him Roberto or Bob for my own various reasons.  Many months ago, he began stopping by my office on his daily building rounds that he is required to do.  He began to tell me of his ex-wife and their horrifying divorce after 28 years of marriage.  One day, after he’d been doing this for a few weeks, he stopped and was chit chatting and out of nowhere began to sob….standing there in my office.  Uncontrollable sobbing. Full on, snot and tears. Anyone who knows anything about me knows that unless we are close, ima be standing there like….

So I said nothing.  I just sat, watching him cry.  He finally stopped and apologized and I assured him it would all be fine and it’s going to take a while to get over this and blah blah blah, pithy platitude, etc., etc.  He said thank you and invited me over to watch the game that weekend…other people are coming, it’ll be fun yadda yadda.

I said, “Sure, we can all use a friend and if you need someone to hang out with or go get a beer and I’m free, then I’m your gal. Sure I’ll be your friend, I’ve been where you are, let me sing you the song of my people and we can commiserate and be best pals and shit!!”

Always remember - No good deed goes unpunished. 

Showed up at his house for the game and surprise, surprise, no one else could make it.  I could see what was up by how nervous he was and I then began my counter attack.  I sat on the floor, ate a jillion wings and two jillion fries and bread and drank 4 beers like a linebacker. I shunned any attempt at being cute.  I burped, I was covered in wing sauce, I did everything but hold his head under a couch cushion while I farted into it. 

Bob, however, was not dissuaded from his woefully inadequate version of wooing. He was drinking two beers to my one as he told me every awful thing his ex-wife had ever done, showed me every text message of what was apparently a horrible divorce, told me he’d been ever faithful even though that meant he’d been celibate for the last ten years. He had become increasingly grabby and tried to hold my hand. No matter where I sat, he sat RIGHT NEXT TO ME.  I finally got up and “warmed” myself by the fire and then said…

“Bob, you sound like you’ve had it rough.  I know that you feel betrayed and heartbroken right now, but you don’t need a girlfriend right now.  You need a booty call, a hit and quit it type situation and this,” I said motioning to my own fabulosity, “is not it.”

He sat on the couch looking up at me…Did I mention that he’s shoulder high to me even standing up? I’m not a heightist and I don’t care if a dude is a couple inches shorter than me but I don’t want to feel like reverse Shaq and Laticia.

I digress…he sat looking up at me, weaving slightly from the 8 or so Keystones he’d guzzled. I continued to impart wisdom that I hoped sounded bruh-like, “You need to go out find a little sum sum and go on about putting the rest of your life back together. You’re not ready for a relationship and I’m not ready to nurse someone back to health as anything other than a friend.”

He answered in an affirmative manner as if he understood completely and wobbled his way back to the kitchen for another cold one.  He came back and started asking me about bathroom accessories.  In all his life, he’d never had to buy anything like that and omg what should he do?

I said, “Uh, go to the store and pick some shit out in a color you like, throw it in there and admire your handiwork.”

He laughed as if I were a comedy genius and I knew he was too drunk to reason with.  I asked for the direction of the bathroom which he handsily directed me toward; hands all over to direct me the 15 feet to the direction of the bathroom. I thought, This is it, he’s not getting it and I need to get the fuck out of here.

I texted the Gurl Child and told her to call me with a dire emergency in 5 minutes.  She did and the screaming that came from the phone was Oscar worthy. 

I was impressed as I tried my best to convey my worry to her and hung up and told him I had to go, right then.  He said….omg…he said, “Can you come back?”

“No, she’s pretty upset, I need to stay with her but I’ll catch up with you next week.”

He was “walking” me to the door and trying to hold my hand and grab my waist and rub my back in a ridiculous manner. I shrugged into my coat and grabbed the handle and that little fucker said, “Do you want to spend the night?”

I laughed…in his face, “No, not tonight, not any night. We are friends, we are not dating.” He then stood on his tip toes and tried to kiss me and I turned my cheek. He wagged his finger at me like, hahaha, nice move. He was too drunk to get that I was not going to fuck him much less even kiss him. I raced out into the rain and home.

Bob has not let up on his campaign.  I have repeatedly eaten like a stevedore in front of him, refused to let him pay for my meals…the one and only time we went to the movies, I rushed to get there ahead of him. I bought the tickets and made him get the popcorn and then sat in a Wednesday evening showing of Focus and sat next to him while he too loudly uttered….”SHIT!!!”  then, “OH SHITTT!!!” and, “Ohmygod, DID YOU SEE THAT?” only to be topped off by seeing Margot Robbie enter the frame looking flawless in a teeny bikini and hearing…”DAMMIT, BOBBY!” from my right.

I shrank into my seat and when the movie was over I didn’t even give him an obligatory hug, I just peaced out as fast as humanly possible.

He still texts.  He still comes by my office. He still breaks down occasionally. He’s still calling his ex-wife, the “bitch”.  I continue to tell him he’s not ready for dating and that we are only friends and he continues to try and be suave and debonair. 

This has been the only man in my life for the past few months and I’m quite content. The middle of the bed rocks.  I watch whatever I want on as many TVs as I want.  I haven’t shaved my legs in, well, I don’t remember when.  I come home from the gym in sweaty, awful clothes and take a nap in those clothes. If I want rolled up lunch meat and cottage cheese with a glass of wine for dinner, that’s what I have.  It’s great.

 No Man’s Land is hospitable for visitors but we don’t have any vacancies at the moment. 

TBone Reheated

I picked up my phone and stared at it with a bit of incredulity but mostly this feeling of satisfaction and smugness crept in unbidden, delicious but tinged with guilt because a good person wouldn’t be so arrogant. It was TBone.

There I sat, still reeling from Don Juan/Hypocrites and even though it’d been many weeks, I was still pretty torn up.  I had so loved him and thought we could make a beautiful life together and then he was gone like I didn’t matter at all.

TBone on the other hand was asking me to go to dinner with him.  I didn’t answer right away. I didn’t know what to say.  We were more than likely the same two people with the same differences we’d had last time.  I just couldn’t believe he was messaging me. He’d acted like our breakup had been a complete shit storm and I was more than just a little surprised at the contact.

I finally answered and said sure and he seemed really happy. He continued to sporadically text and I answered.  Don Juan had really ripped out my heart and TBone was being nice. Salve as it were. I knew though… way back in that place where you know things.

I went anyway. We had the dinner. He took me to a nice place and I had too many cocktails and he sat across from me staring adoringly.  At one point he said, “You’re so smart and beautiful and NOT crazy. Whatever I was doing that got on your nerves before, I’ll quit doing.”

I smiled at that and told him, “We are still the same people. With the same issues.”

He interrupted me with, “I didn’t have any issues.”

I clamped my lips shut and leaned back in the booth.  I had plenty of them and I wondered since he’d busted my Facebook blog page if he’d actually read the blog and then assumed he must have.   It wasn’t anywhere near complimentary and I felt he must’ve read it by now.

We started the dating. Again.  It was somewhat okay.  At first I was swept up in all the nice, all the feels as it were.  He was still handsome and accommodating and the sex was different.  Like not as bad at first but shockingly quick and he’d developed a habit of yelling out during his crisis in a loud extended way that made me cringe. Every time almost. I found myself frustrated for different reasons than before but still frustrated.  He had eased up on the kitty cat talking but told me he loved me immediately during our first time out.  It was disconcerting but after a while, I fell into it too. It seemed easy. The same shit we did before revisited and again, it was salve.  I didn’t recognize it fully or maybe I just didn’t want to. Don Juan/Hypocrites had just really taken me weeks to feel normal again and this was balm for the wound.  

So it happened that after exchange of love and a few weeks, we decided to go visit my parents, me and TBone and the Girl Child and a camper and his decrepit Bronco.  TBone exhibited nerves at the prospect of meeting my parents and I told him to calm down and relax. They’re regular peeps and they wouldn’t give him a hard time even if they hated him.  Tucker was proof enough of that.

He showed up with the camper and we loaded up.  It wasn’t too bad going up there. He had brought his boys to meet their mother to visit for the 4^th of July.  Most of the visit was okay.  He was trying too hard and I could see that he wasn’t content unless he was sitting still and doing not much and smoking a joint.  I mean, I knew he smoked but it was just so evident that he wasn’t happy at all unless he was high and to hear him tell it, he “never got high”.  Whatever.  So we had a fairly okay time but when we headed home the aforementioned decrepit Bronco started to have some problems.  It was overheating and exhibiting some electrical issues and he proceeded to grab his rosary and rock back and forth as he was driving.  Genuflecting like a lunatic, swinging those beads around with them knocking all over the place.  I am not a believer.  He knows this and I know he’s a Catholic and I accept you have to do what you have to do to get by. Believe what you like and that’s all cool but the display that he put on was discomfiting almost frightening. Even on my most fervent, prayer-filled days, I would not have acted like that in front of anyone for any reason. It bordered on mania that was more than a little unsettling. 

Ironically, though, in between all the reverence to the lord, he was puffing on his one hitter with my kid in the car.  I just looked at him with murder in my eyes and he finally set it down with a look that was disgusted. My daughter was dead silent and bug eyed in the back seat watching everything.

We then drove the 3 ½ almost 4 hours without stopping because he was afraid the truck wouldn’t start back up.  We got home, we piled out stretching and I said, “Wow, thank goodness. I’m dying of thirst.”

Only to be answered by TBone with, “Yeah, well I haven’t had anything to drink since we left your parents’!”

I really couldn’t believe what I’d just heard and all I think was

 Congratulations! You’ve just won the Thirsty Games!!!

But … because I am the person I am and I knew that he was very stressed out even though the worst that could’ve happen was to wait on AAA, I went directly inside and made him a cold drink.  He was sitting on the couch and leaned back as if he’d just gone through complete hell…duuuh-raaahma.

I handed him the drink, and the winner of the Thirsty Games, who had had to go 20 minutes longer than me and the GC without a drink, took it and set it on the coffee table without so much as taking a sip. I stared incredulously as he then said with all the zeal he had in him, “I know you don’t believe it but the Lord got us home.” I felt a snap, an imperceptible hitch in my feelings.  That moment was the beginning of the end.

I thought,  Did the lord also tell you to toke up with my kid in the car so we could make it home?

I turned and grabbed GC and we left to get food. That night, after he’d fallen asleep, I got up and slept on the couch.  I couldn’t bear it.  The GC was on the other side of our sectional and I snoozed until about 9AM and got up and made some coffee. I got back on the couch with my blanky and coffee and snoozed off and on.  About 11:00AM, Tbone got up suddenly as if it were 6AM and he were the motherfucking poster child for early risers and began to bark at us.  I stared blankly while he growled orders, “WE NEED TO GET UP AND GET THIS DONE.” 

I said, “Uh, if you need to go, then go. We’ll figure out how to pick up her car if you’re in a hurry.”

He stopped in his tracks and looked at me. Let the back pedaling and martyrdom commence.

“No, it’s just that I thought we should get this over with and….” I interrupted and repeated myself in a very kind, even tone and he again refused to leave and I said, “Well I’m going to get breakfast and coffee and then call the shop and we’ll figure out when we’re getting it after.”

He went outside, presumably for his wake and bake and the GC and I again left. I called and the guys were at lunch and we couldn’t get the car picked up til 1.   We returned to find him sitting on the steps of his camper in what looked like classic pout pose.  I told him that they wouldn’t be back in the shop until 1PM and he could leave if he wanted and it’d all be fine.

I think he told me no but all I heard was, “Wah.  I’ll stay. Wah.  Poor pitiful me. Wah. Martyr. Martyr. Wah. Can you see my cross? Wah…”

Then…omg…then….

I’m trolling Facebook on the couch, waiting to head out and my son, who is the world’s BEST drama queen had posted:

Tired of no matter what I do it’s not the right thing.

Tbone had liked it and commented:

I know what you mean.

I absolutely lost my shit then and I told him about it.  I confronted him with the fact that you don’t put your shit all over Facebook much less on my SON’S page and what’s more he was relating to and commiserating with an 18 year old kid. Like I said before, that was the beginning of the end. It deteriorated quickly after that. He hadn’t actually read the blog and he did manage it a fit of pique to find it and read it. He sort of figured out what I really thought after that. In the end though, it was not so much a “you’re not good enough for me” judgment as an “I judge you to be too different from me for this to work.”

I have loved and been loved. I have not, however, ever been taken care of so completely that I didn’t feel absolutely alone in my skin at all times.  Normally, I’m okay with that …it’s just those times that you feel like if you have to be in charge of one more motherfucking thing without SOME kind of backup, you’re going to lose your shit in a special way. 

I never had that person there that was my lover and who understood me. I have my friends and I have my daughter and my family but it isn’t the same. It’s not the same as being skin to skin with someone, sharing breath with them and knowing that they cherish more than your body. I want that intangible feeling of having someone to fall back on when I am low.  Someone who will say, “It’s okay that you feel shitty right now because I’m here.  You feel shitty and we’ll take care of this together and you won’t feel shitty anymore and I won’t make you feel even shittier for feeling shitty.”  No scorekeeping, no I did this, so you have to do that.  No guilt.  No obligation. Just love and acceptance. Someone who would be there regardless and wasn’t trying to take advantage of me in any way. Someone I could feel safe loving and giving my heart to and would give theirs right back to me for safekeeping.

I had been very guilty in my younger years of rejecting anyone that seemed like they “loved me too much.” So much self-loathing abounded that I began to reject any club that would have me as a member.  I felt that had happened with Don Juan and his own feelings of self-worth were what got in the way between us.  I hadn’t wanted to be like that and had given people chances they didn’t deserve because I wanted to be sure I wasn’t doing that exact thing, passing something up fundamentally good because I was damaged. Enter TBone and my need to fair and think everything out instead of going with that thing that I know from that place where you store up the shit that you JUST know.

I can handle being by myself. It’s okay. I can do that. I can get through the times when I’m adrift in a sea of chaos and feel like I’m standing stock still in the middle of roaring bedlam.  After all is said and done, the only person I need to worry about being fair to, is myself.

Don Juan

Okay…so…I met him at Schmome Schmeepo.  He was working there as a second job just like I was in order to supplement the old income.  He was technically my subordinate for months but there was just something about him.  I was drawn to him. He is Mexican and swarthy and clean cut but I could see a snippet of a tattoo on his chest when at times a button was undone.  We must name him and one of my besties calls him my Latin Lovah but we’ll call him Don Juan for a myriad of reasons.

I would check the schedule to see if he was my loader for the night.  I would try to chat him up whenever possible and he smelled so fucking good all the time.  I was still dating TBone when he started so it was nothing more than distance flirting at first and then….then I found his profile on OKCupid.

I thought ok, well he’s not seeing anyone then and by that time I was not seeing TBone anymore either so I can sort of hook this up maybe??? Could I? Do I chase men? Not usually, but let’s see how this shit goes. I had gotten his number under the guise of needing it for work but one night when I was not the head cashier and had been sent to garden to cover a break, I texted him. 

I told him he needed to come out so I could smell him.  It was about 3 ½ minutes later that he appeared.  We chit chatted and he asked if I was going to smell him and we leaned toward each other. Goddamn, he smelled so good. He always did.  We were inches from each other as I sniffed his neck and when I glanced up, our eyes met and it was electric and sexy and close and hot and there were a million things said without saying anything…and right then the bitch on break came walking back out.  FUCK!! So we popped apart and headed back into the store talking and grinning.

Later that night, I was manning self-checkout and got my courage up and I texted….”Whattya say we go make out in the parking lot after we close this dump?”

I pressed send with feelings of terror and exhilaration. Then I watched as he came in the store and went back out of the store, pushing carts and laughing with the lumber guys.  No answer.  No eye contact.  So me being me, I tried to lighten the mood with a joke because that’s the sort of idiot I am and texted, “I have gum.”

Still, just nothing.  Omg, he read that and now he thinks I’m a whore and OMG I’m technically his boss most nights and holy shit WTF, he doesn’t even know what to say to me, he won’t look at me, omg, omg, omg, omg.  How can I get out of here without having to talk to him?

Because self-doubt and panic…that’s my jam.  Then I heard him laugh.  Quite loudly.  I looked over and he had his phone in his hand and he was texting back.  My phone beeped and I pulled it out of my pocket to read, “I’m parked right next to you,,,,I’ll see you there.” He puts commas in everything he texts and I decided it was charming.

We got into my truck and started laughing at how ridiculous we were.  Then proceeded to do the whole this is my life talk…for about an hour.  It finally got quiet between us and he said, “When do we get to the kissing part?”

I smiled and pushed the console up and slid over next to him.  It was sublime.  The first kiss can be awkward but it was warm and soft and perfect.  We kissed and talked and kissed until the windows were fogged up.  He told me I was beautiful, that he’d been watching me, that he had wanted me. He told me all sorts of romantic, dashing fabulous things. I started getting sleepy and we realized it was 12:30 in the morning.  We texted each other good night after I got home and I drifted to sleep that night on a cloud.

We repeated the same sort of thing several more times over the next 3 weeks.  It got very heated but he told me there was no way he was taking me in that truck, that he wanted all of me and we would do it right or not at all.  We did more talking and the lay of the land was that he was a year out of a divorce that had left him struggling after he’d made some poor choices.  He lived in a mother in law suite at his aunt’s house and so there was no going back there for us.  I had the girl child at my house and so unless she was out for the night, he wasn’t spending the night with me.   

The Last Love of Don Juan - Daniel C. Chiriac

Third week, lo and behold there was a free night and he could come over…and of course motherfucking shark week shows up.  We talked it over and he was going to come for dinner and we rented a movie.  Just a nice little date and more making out.  I cooked us a casual dinner and did the fun part.  The makeup and hair and the omg we’re not going anywhere so what do I wear and then he was there.  We ate supper, we watched Man of Steel and we made out on my couch like teenagers.  He whipped off his shirt and I almost fainted… there it was, a strong perfect chest with a tattoo of his son’s infant footprints. He kissed the breath out of me and we finally stopped and finished the movie and I sent him home with blue balls. What’s the lady version of blue balls?? Motherfucking shark week.  

It took another week before he didn’t have his son and I had an empty house.  I cooked a meal, I primped and powdered and lotioned and stockings and lingerie and a little black dress.  He showed up smelling and looking so good and we ate dinner but the tension and longing was thick.  We talked and I began to put the dishes in the sink.  He came up behind me and started kissing my neck. I turned and sank into his arms and we made love.  You would think after more than a month of heavy petting and anticipation it would have been animal and it was…a little, but it was more sweet and passionate and wonderful than I’d experienced in a long time.  There was feeling and adoration and he whispered Spanish in my ear.  He could have been telling me directions to the library and I wouldn’t have known or cared. 

The discussions that followed soon after had snippets of things that told of his intentions for a relationship and not just messing about.  I had the same feelings and couldn’t believe I was experiencing them.  We talked about our future plans and he spoke of rebuilding his life and being proud of his choices and I talked of many things and remember him telling me, “Don’t talk like you’ll have to do it all alone.” We fell in love over Christmas. I sewed matching PJ’s for him and his 6 year old.  I bought him presents and made him cookies and we spent every minute that we weren’t working or busy trying to be together.  There was not as much sex as there was kissing and hugging and talking.  It was a real grown up relationship and he treated me like no one has ever treated me.  He called me his Queen.  I felt as if I were floating on air so much of the time. 

The other side of this coin is that he is 21 years clean and sober and attends meetings and counsels others. He takes phone calls at all hours to help people and I loved this about him but this all leads to a lot of self-reflection and all that sensitivity and caring means that though he had a bit of swagger with everyone else…almost a bit of a dickhead sometimes, he was conflicted. A lot.  He was conflicted when things went badly and he got behind with his bills.  He was conflicted about whether he was ready for our commitment. He was conflicted when he was offered a management position. He was conflicted over everything.  All the time.  At first, I felt like a wise calming influence to him. I felt useful and like we were part of a partnership where we were helping each other but I soon realized he could justify anything and talk himself into the choice he wanted in the first place most times. I felt like I was useful and part of something great.  I felt like this big, strong man that no one saw a weak link in needed ME.  I was special enough for him to show his weaknesses and to wise enough for him to bring his burdens. We talked about a home together and our future.

But…those times that we talked and I felt like I’d talked him off the ledge and he would text me later and tell me how grateful he was for me in his life.  I clung to those.  I clung to the moments that we stole kisses in parking lots, the times that we finally got my house to ourselves and had sweet, quiet time together, the times he looked at me and said, “Why are you so beautiful?”

I would find out soon enough though that I should have listened to the voice in my head that said, “Can you spend your whole life supporting and building someone up that needs this much validation? Of course you can. You love him.” I quieted that bitch. She’s a smart bitch, though.

Ima Eat

I love to eat and I’m really good at it too. I’ve spent most of this year not eating as much though because when you get older, all those late night fried burrito binges catch up with your ass. They make things jiggle that aren’t supposed to shake. The first time I had a back fat wobble, I almost had to be prescribed a sedative and then I had a cheeseburger, which was my sedative of choice at the time.

So, I have been learning to like new things through the magic of low and no carb eating.  Last night after working my regular 9-5 and then another 4 at Home Depot, I was friggin starving. I hate eating late but the only snack choices available to me at Home Depot are cookies, crackers, candy or meat sticks. I stuck it out and waited til I got home and opened the fridge to peruse my choices. I settled on lettuce leaves smeared with hummus, topped with roasted chicken and a slice of cheddar all rolled up.  It was delicious and I didn’t have to feel bad about it. I’ve spent a lot of years feeling horrible about almost every bite I put in my mouth because when everything else is shitty, Ima eat.  However, now I’ve become a veritable white trash maestro of low carb snacks.

The only cracker, cookie or bread like substance that has zero carbs….pork rinds. You can turn these crunchy little fried pieces of pork skin that I would NEVER have previously eaten into all kinds of things. Smash them and make breading or use them for dipping. You can cover them with taco meat and cheese and jalapenos and have some pretty decent nachos.  All without having to feel guilty about it. Well I mean I haven’t had my cholesterol checked in a while but let’s pretend that’s not a problem right now.

Also hummus.  Omfg.  Hummus.  Who knew this shit was so delicious.  I mean I’ve eaten chickpeas in a salad as a child when held at fork point by my mother and yuck! But mash those fuckers up and throw in some tahini and lemon, garlic, roasted peppers and holy garbanzo beans, Batman! Deeelish.

I don’t feel deprived because I eat at least one cheat meal a week and there are weeks that I have an entire cheat day.  Thanksgiving was about 5 days of binging and cheating and I paid dearly. My digestive system went off the rails and I started retaining water and feeling all around terrible.  I didn’t gain any serious weight back though and two days back on no carbs and I felt all better.

This does not mean that I will abstain from Christmas binging.  It’s gonna happen.  The Gurl Child and I only have one tradition really at Christmas and that’s ball shaped food.  Ala’ Schweddy Balls. You’ve got your sausageballs, your rum balls, your orange balls, your cheese balls, your popcorn balls, your meat balls. Ever had a mashed potato ball? I have and it is baby jeebus in a ball shaped manger delightful. Whopper cake? 

Because malted milk ball scrumptiousness.

No matter what life changes I’ve made to lose weight or be healthier or just to feel better, I will never deprive myself completely of the things that I love.  Quite simply, Ima eat.