Charming, but single

Slept in this morning, choosing to memorialize things by not setting the alarm to go off at all.

(I did, however, wake up and sit right up in bed thinking that I was late. It took a few seconds for me to remember that I had the day off.)

After sleeping in, I did some of what is becoming a very tedious amount of S upkeep. Deep conditioning, exfoliating, hair masques, face masques, moisturizing of the face, body and feet, teeth whitening, eyebrow trimming, nail filing … Am feeling a touch high maintenance as of late. (And no, I did not do ALL of that today. I have a schedule! You just THINK I’m joking.)

Ok, seriously, does anyone really notice if you curl your eyelashes? Because I try and try, but I am missing the gene that enables me to use an eyelash curler correctly.

Went to lunch with Good Friend and B. That was bad bad bad. I’m supposed to be staying away. Will do better next time, I promise.

Good Friend annoyed me a touch because she brought up the fact that her whole family thinks she should marry B. I suppose she wouldn’t have done this had I actually told her that I had a minor B relapse, so I shouldn’t be mad. But still.

Did a bit of shopping. Bought Sex and the City Season 3, because it is by far my favorite and it was on sale.

I almost got into a wreck this afternoon while trying to drive and open my newly purchased Rob Thomas CD. Fortunately, I was able to maintain control of the car. This is good, as I would not be able to live down the shame of having been in a wreck because I couldn’t get my ROB THOMAS CD open. (I already have to live with the knowledge that I purchased said Rob Thomas CD in the first place, which I realize yanks me from the MTV demographic and plants me firmly in the VH1 demographic. I am sort of okay with this, as all of those damn Real World kids on MTV just make me feel old.)

Saw “Crash” tonight. (It was one of only, like, five movies playing in the whole damn city. I swear, we have at least five damn movie theatres in this city and nothing but “Star Wars” and “Madagascar” as far as the eye can see.) The movie was okay. In case you crazy dating kids were planning on bringing a date, well, don’t. Because somehow I think talking about the prevalence of racism and sexism in America isn’t the best topic for post-movie dinner and drinks. (Hey, maybe you LIKE racial slurs on your dates. Who knows.)

Now me, my moisturizing booties, my night cream and my teeth whitener are going to bed.

I’d like to reply to all of your comments individually, but that would probably take me longer than it’ll take to just post. Suffice it to say that I was taken aback by the time some of you put into long and thoughtful comments. And for some girl you don’t even, like, know! I owe you all a drink. Thanks!

I was just overwhelmed on Thursday. B and I were at a celebratory lunch for a good friend (the girl who introduced us) and her family and it was nice. All day we had been talking about old times because the Good Friend will be moving to a nearby city for a great new job in a few months.

We ended the night at a party at a bar we used to always go to back when we were in school. And we were reminiscing about the past and telling Good Friend’s sister funny stories and someone commented that all of Good Friend’s family thinks she should snatch B up because he’s a nice guy. Good Friend said the two of them were never attracted to or interested in each other. And she looked and me and smiled. And I, two vodka crans into the night, said, “Plus, she knows I’d hurt her” and winked at her. We laughed and that was that. (B, of course, was not there yet.)

Later, someone said something about how we LIVED at this bar during college and then I think I told someone the story about the Night I Cried At The Bar.

Now I’m not talking about one single tear or anything. I get weepy sometimes when I’m drunk, but I rarely, if ever, let it get past that in public.

Except for a night that shall live in infamy as the Night I Cried At The Bar. (And yes, you can laugh as you read this. It is kind of ridiculous and funny. I laughed at points when I was writing it.)

It was several years ago, maybe two months after I’d met B. There was a great regional party band playing at our bar and they only played here once or twice a year. So everyone always went to see them. It was one of the best nights to go out, because you knew half of the bar and everyone was in a good mood and dancing and the music was great.

I was there with my girlfriends. I hadn’t seen B in a week or so, but I had heard word through the grapevine that even though he’d kissed me and flirted with me and we had been having a good time when we all went out, he was seeing someone and was not going to take our burgeoning connection anywhere.

And I had told myself that I was fine with that.

So, I’m looking (I think) pretty cute in what is (I think) one of my favorite cool weather sexy outfits. (A form-fitting soft turtleneck, cute dark jeans and high-heeled boots. I don’t know why this makes me feel sexy. I think it’s because you’re all covered up, but you still feel all curvaceous. Plus, wearing tall boots always makes me feel sexy.) (Seriously, enough.)

I’m more than a little tipsy. I’m full-on “It’s-Friday-and-school-is-over-for-the-week
-and-I’m-22-and-I’m-gonna-dance-all-night-and-I-don’t
-have-to-drive-and-everything-is-so- KICKASS” drunk. I’m out on the deck area of this bar (because it’s cool but not cold) and in addition to all of the other bar regulars and my girlfriends, there are probably at least 40 or 50 people I know from work, class or life in the crowd.

At this moment, I think they were ALL outside in the general area where I was.

So, I’m walking to the bar and I turn around and I literally run into B. We physically collide. He is here with his friends and he’s been drinking for hours too. We immediately give each other a big hug and smile and we kind of don’t pull back from the hug. I remember we were kind of huddled together talking and his hands were kind of sitting on my hips and I was playing with his belt loop while we talked.

It was awesome. This guy I really really liked was here with me and he was flirting with me and (in my cloudy mind) he was going to realize that he was being stupid for not considering dating me.

In the middle of the crowd, we started making out. (Cloudy mind thinks, “Hell yeah! Way to be persistent! Told you he digs ya!”)

And right as I’m congratulating myself on successfully wooing this guy that I am so just IN to and I’m planning out future and mentally introducing him to my parents, he pulls away and says, “I can’t.”

“What!” I practically yell.

We have a few minutes of incoherent conversation that consists of him saying, “Timing bad. JUST started dating someone. I DO like you. I WOULD be dating you otherwise.”

My responses were something like, “Timing’s never going to be perfect. We have a connection and I KNOW you feel it to. Long talks at night! Flirting! Making out! You LIKE me!”

At this point, my friends are keeping a close watch on me, getting ready to pull me out of there if necessary. We have attracted some attention.

But B’s not giving up his, “I can’t do this” stance and I’m not moving. I am a drunk 22-year-old woman who has just had her heart broken in front of all of her friends and acquaintances. And I am not going down without a fight.

I don’t remember what exactly B said, but whatever it was, it did not make me happy. And in my drunken state, I could not control my emotions and I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes and in my head I could make them go away, but in reality I could not.

B just looked into my eyes and said, “No. Please don’t do that. I don’t want to make you cry.” (As if saying that would make me feel better.)

And one tear rolled down my cheek and he touched my face with this really pained look on his face that I imagine is what a person looks like at the exact second that they realize that they really have actually broken someone’s heart into a million pieces and they have to live with that knowledge for the rest of their lives … and he wiped the tear away.

That was it. It was over.

The floodgates opened and the waterworks started and I burst into the most outrageous fit of tears ever cried by this woman in public while ALL OF HER FRIENDS ARE WATCHING. And my roommate and another friend rush in and I just feel people’s arms around me and I’m bawling but I’m moving and I don’t even know if I’m walking but somehow I’m in the parking lot being rushed down the block to where my roommate’s car was.

I am a complete wreck and I cannot stop crying. I am BEYOND mortified that I just had a full-on Drunk Girl Freakout in a bar. I had always made fun of those girls who cried in bars, but from that moment on, I had much more sympathy for them.

My friends put me in bed and I stayed with me until I pretty much cried myself to sleep. In fact, I think I cried so much that I wasn’t even making tears anymore.

I woke up the next morning and threw up and begged my friends to tell me that I hadn’t cried at the bar and that my eyes were just puffy and red because I was having an allergic reaction to my pillow.

No such luck.

On Monday when I went back to work and school, people would ask me in these very hushed tones if I was okay and what had happened and why I had cried in the bar.

And it was terrible. (But I survived and I was back at the bar the next week and most people hadn’t really noticed and soon forgot about my little scene.)

So, I think all of the talk just got me into a B state of mind.

I’m not going to spill my guts to him. He has had numerous opportunities to have me and he has never taken me up on the (very gracious) offer. He doesn’t want me in such a HUGE way that he won’t even use me! (That was meant to be funny.)

I’m pulling back for a little while. The 25-year-old me is infinitely smarter than the 22-year-old me. I think Ms. Raitt put it best when she sang, “You can’t make a heart feel something it won’t.”

(And P.S. — To the person who mentioned that I should listen to “Untouchable Face” by Ani Difranco — That is the Official B Song. (That and “Grace is Gone” by Dave Matthews Band) It was always loaded into the cd player during the years of B so that I could listen to it after we’d been out. In fact, one night he pissed me off so much that I listed to it while he was in the car with me. That song rules.)

(Also, there’s going to be a big announcement regarding the phrase “He’s just not that into you” and its usage this week on the blog.)

Anyway, have a good day! I’m off to be highlighted and hairstyled.

I’m going to make this short. I know there’s stuff from the past weekend that I had wanted to blog about, but I can’t think about that now.

I am caught in a strange place right now. I’ve been denying it for weeks, but tonight I finally put words to it.

I am still in love with B.

And not in that, “I’ll always love you a little bit” way.

No, I am legitimately having feelings for him. The stomach flip is back. That used to be such a good thing, but it is the last thing in the world I want to feel right now. (From him, at least.)

Every little thing he does has taken on some meaning to me. I ended up crashing on his couch during the party after going out one night because I needed a ride back to my car (long story), and when I woke up to catch a ride, he argued that I should stay there.

To me, this meant he wanted me.

In reality, this means he thought I was too sleepy to drive.

We had to go to a celebratory lunch for a close friend of ours and he made me promise to call him and remind him to get up (he works nights) so he wasn’t late.

To me, this meant he needed me.

In reality, this means he was afraid he’d oversleep.

There are countless examples of this. And it’s been slowly building in me and for some reason it’s out now.

There’s is part of me that thinks I should just say, “I am seriously in love with you and I have been for forever and I am sorry to put a damper on our friendship, but I’d rather never see you again than continue with this nonsense game of not caring I’ve been playing.”

But the fear of rejection is paralyzing. The thought of putting a voice to these thoughts makes me want to vomit. I don’t know that my fragile little heart can handle being smashed into one thousand pieces again. (I’m going to bet that it’s not.)

I left the bar early tonight because I didn’t want to see him. Because if I saw him I’d want to kiss him and he doesn’t want me and it’s quite a situation.

I have never hated someone that I cared about so much. His mere presence in this world is proof that life is (and never had been) fair. I’ve spent months wondering why I couldn’t connect with anyone, and it seems that it’s because I’m still tuned in to an old channel.

I have this knot in my throat and I can’t breathe and it’s not going anywhere and I’m afraid I’m going to choke on it. And I don’t know what’s worse — choking on the feelings, but keeping them down, or spitting them out and hoping for the best.

I am not so stupid that I think this will work out. This may be a passing phase. I may grow out of it.

I’m keeping my mouth shut until I do.

So, I haven’t finished writing my Weekend Update. Just not feeling tres creative at the moment. So I’m starting a lameo game instead. (But only because I like to see what music people listen to.)

I was making mix CDs because my traffic music blows. I’ll post my list and then you post yours.

The rules:

• Start with a song you use to get amped for going out (Did I just use the word amped?)
• Include at least one of the following:
• Song that was released this year
• Song that really doesn’t fit at all
• A country song
• Song by an artist you listened to in high school
• A cheesy love song
• A silly song
• Something that makes you dance in your chair
• Song you are embarrassed to like
• Song you see as an anthem
• Song you can’t figure out how you came to like/have
• Song you just discovered this week

• Close with a song about ending
• The other songs are up to you
• Your CD must be at least 15 songs and can’t be any longer than 20 songs
• Only pick songs you’d actually listen to
• The songs can’t be used for more than one category

My mix:

• “In These Shoes?” by Kirsty MacColl
• “Something to Be” by Rob Thomas (released this year)
• “Breathe (2 a.m.)” by Anna Nalick (discovered this week)
• “Move Your Feet” by Junior Senior (makes me dance in my chair)
• “Bruised” by the Bens
• “Unprodigal Daughter” by Alanis Morissette (have loved her since high school) (shut up)
• “Back to You” by John Mayer
• “The Chance” by Julie Roberts (country)
• “One in a Million” by Charlie Robison (silly)
• “Making Memories of Us” by Keith Urban (cheesy love song)
• “Part-Time Lover” by Stevie Wonder (doesn’t fit)
• “Damaged” by TLC (can’t figure out how it got on my computer)
• “Bless the Broken Road” by Rascall Flats (am soooo embarrassed that I like this)
• “Who’s Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses (Acoustic)” by U2
• “Right to be Wrong” by Joss Stone (Anthem!)
• “Southern Girl” by Better than Ezra
• “You Were Always on my Mind” by Willie Nelson
• “That’s Life” by Frank Sinatra

Obviously, you can have more than one of any kind of song. Also, do some wild cards.

How dorky am I, beating lacking creative juices with silliness. (Seriously, if you don’t do it, I will, like, cry. And you don’t want to make me cry, do ya?)

I am currently engaged in a two-week round of phone tag with my Best Friend From High School, who is really my Best Friend Ever, so we’ll call her my BFE.

She went to school in a good-sized city about 8-to-10 hours from where I live, depending on how fast you drive. (Sometimes I miss her so much that I think I could make it four or six.) We had a stupid fight before she left for college and we didn’t talk for a few months. And then we started talking again and now, thanks to free nights and weekends, we talk for hours on end and I try to make at least one trip to see her a year and she usually makes it here at least once or twice each year. (Honestly, I couldn’t tell you what our pre-college fight was about if my life depended on it. I think the real issue was that we didn’t want to say goodbye, so we just fought. Probably.)

I love all of my friends, but secretly, I love BFE the best. When I was stuck in retail, hunting for a better job, and I felt like I would never find one, she was more supportive than anyone else I knew. She was working at a restaurant and stuck in the same boat (a much more lucrative boat than mine, but a boat nonetheless). She told me a million times that I could put my stuff in storage, pack some clothes and move in with her. Even if it took me months to find a better job, she said I’d be ok. She’d get me a job at her restaurant and teach me how to wait tables and we’d be fine.

I never took her up on it, but I always believed that if I did, we would have been fine. And now we both have better jobs and we are fine. Just in different cities. Aside from my mom, BFE was the FIRST person I called when I finally got offered the Dream Job. I was actually late to the celebration of me for getting a new job because I was sitting in the parking lot of the bar talking to BFE on my cell phone about said job.

In the phone-tree of “Things that are important to S,” BFE is the first non-blood relative who gets a call.

(Now I’m getting a teary-eyed. This post was supposed to be funny!)

Anyway, we’re playing phone tag. Phone tag of epic proportions. I think we’re at round 10 or something.

The first rounds were simple. “This is S, call me back.” “Hey! It’s BFE, give me a ring later.”

But now it’s gotten rather ridiculous and we’re just leaving each other really long and slightly obnoxious messages. (And these are not verbatim at all. At all. Also, these obviously aren’t ALL of the messages.)

From her to me:

“S, this is BFE. I think I’m being stood up. Seriously, I am. I am at the bar and nothing. Nothing! I can’t believe …”

From me to her:

“BFE, this is S. How dare a man stand you up! He is clearly unworthy of your time. Feel better! I can’t even get to the point where a man would be able to stand me up lately …”

From her to me:

“S! New guy just broke a date en route to meeting me. This is just great! I don’t understand … “

From me to her:

“PROMISE ME you aren’t getting married. PROMISE. Everyone is getting married but me and it wouldn’t feel so lonely if you weren’t getting married too …”

After that message, we had a 5-minute conversation.

BFE: I can’t talk right now, because my food just came. I wanted to check on you. Are you ok?

S: I’m great! You’d tell me if you were getting married, right?

BFE: You’re drunk, aren’t you?

S: Am not! Ok, maybe just a little bit.

BFE: I’m not getting married. It will be okay. You are not the only person who’s not getting married. I promise. Stop drinking. Can I call you later?

She did call me later, but I was passed out in bed. The message:

“S, I was just calling to check on you. Call me and tell me you’re ok.”

I meant to call her the next day, but I got busy and I got another message from her.

So, I called her back. The message:

“Hey. I’m fine. I was being dramatic. Also, why did I even BOTHER wanting this job? Seriously, I never get enough done and I’m never caught up and …”

Then, it was her turn.

“Hey! This is damn near ridiculous. I’m at Wal-Mart getting groceries. Call me!”

Less than an hour later, I left this:

“Sorry! Hope Wal-Mart was fun. I’ve been drinking champagne and watching ‘Sex and the City’ with some friends …”

Yesterday, she left me this message:

“I swear you must be the BUSIEST person in the world. I mean really. Call me, because …”

So, I left her this:

“Who’s the busiest person now, missy! Sorry, I was at the spa getting a brow wax and a massage. It was a present. Jealous? Seriously, give me a call, because …”

I didn’t get a response, but I left her this later:

“Ok, so, just a little FYI. I am heading to a party where there will be at least two boys I’ve hooked up with and probably numerous boys that I’ve made out with. I’m serious. Like, four or five, maybe? Or three? I don’t know, but more than one is too many. Also, my mom saw me dressed in my going-out clothes and she told me to make sure my boob didn’t fall out of my shirt! Is that bad?”

Now she’s it. And she better hurry, because free weekends end soon, and free nights aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.