The Amoeba
Normally I would be in class right now. But after having a particularly stressful month and having made the decision to find a new place to live, I dropped one of my classes halfway through the quarter so I could do what I need without driving myself crazy. I can inhale.
The peace that comes from having made a decision to leave this place is no small thing. While it's tinged a bit by the prospect of having to confront my landlord about moving out, being able to see an end is an enormous relief. Now I have time to talk about the new boy in my life. I've nicknamed him Amoeba, for his bizarre ability to expand/contract to the size of his surroundings. Sleeping in the same bed with a guy who has 9 inches and 100 pounds on me and fills space in such a way is a challenge. He offered to buy me spurs. My friend asked me the other day if we were officially past the honeymoon period and I believe the answer is yes. After two months (one of which was absolute hell, wherein he had to deal with me sick with strep and hormonal from trying to get on the pill), now we're comfortable. The truth is, it was comfortable from day one, but we both were pretty dumbfounded by how well we got each other from the beginning and were waiting for the other shoe to drop. It still hasn't happened.
There are many common traits among the men that I am drawn to. I like men who are comfortable with themselves, unafraid to look foolish, fun, intelligent, musical, ambitious, funny and kind. Amoeba is the first guy I've ever been with who possessed all of these traits and wasn't afraid of losing himself in a relationship. I am a person who likes to have a certain amount of control in my life, but I recognize that this isn't always possible and I don't think it's healthy to get too bent out of shape when things don't go my way (which I tend to do). So I also like to be with people who push boundaries and force me to let things go. Amoeba doesn't really have boundaries. And he doesn't give much credence to mine.
The insecurities I have, he's willing to help me get over. He's offered to take me bowling one on one (if you don't know the weird childhood issues I have with bowling, it's not very interesting, but it is very real) to get over them. My chronic indecisiveness in restaurants, he is very kind about: he'll have me order the two things I can't decide between and then we'll share. Which is not to say that he doesn't tease me about them. He's positively shameless. He will stand up in a bar and imitate a turkey (as he did the first time he met three of my girlfriends here); he'll serenade me and end up on one knee with his arms outstretched in a convenience store. He makes me laugh and he challenges me and he is the most intensely thoughtful person I've ever known (I don't mean that in terms of generosity but degree of thinking). A week or two after I met him, I told a friend that if he believed in marriage (he thinks it's an inherently flawed institution), I'd say I'd found the man I was going to marry. Right now I'm content to say that I don't see an end from here, and that's something I'm more than OK with.
No news is good news...
and I have news. The last two months of silence have not actually indicated any lack of activity, but rather a great excess of it. I went home to Texas for Christmas and then left immediately upon getting back to Cali on a road trip with my guy and his friend. The road trip was crazy and action-packed and far too much happened to comment on. Though the one thing of importance to note about the trip was that I got strep throat. On New Year's Eve. I couldn't get to a doctor until the 2nd (yay holidays) and after the nightmare that was trying to use student insurance in another state, I finally got treated around 3:45 pm where the woman told me it was the worst strep throat she'd ever seen and I should stay away from small children and animals, or anyone who was immuno-compromised.
Seriously.
Right now, I am in the middle of my third course of penicillin because I can not get rid of the strep. It comes back every two weeks, about 4 days after I finish the 10 days of pills. On top of that, my rental situation has become a nightmare. My landlord has taken issue with the fact that my guy is staying over. He's reminded me that I am only allowed to have guests 6 days out of the month as per my lease agreement. In addition, today he requested that I make sure my guests park on the other side of the street so that the spaces directly in front of the house remain open for actual tenants. This is a public street, in a neighborhood that does not require parking permits. I'm oversimplifying and not recounting full conversations, but suffice it to say that it has been made very clear that my guy is not welcome here at any time and has actually been stated that he has no way of making sure that the guy isn't a criminal who will steal from him or me. So now, despite absolutely loving my apartment and location, I am thinking of leaving. Finding a new place, packing, and moving out in the last half of the quarter, when I really don't have time for anything but school. I've determined that my lease is actually just a month to month rental agreement, so I can move out whenever I want so long as I provide 30 days notice.
Is the peace of mind and cheaper rent worth the headache of moving? I really couldn't say quite yet. But I do know that at the ripe age of 27, the age my mother was when she bore me, I feel absolutely ridiculous having to sneak around and worrying that my landlord is going to come knocking on my door demanding that my boyfriend get the hell out. Aren't I too old to need my daddy's permission to have a boy stay over?
Mini Update
In the last week, something extraordinary has happened. I started a long post about my date with the boy but the boy got in the way. Our first date was last Saturday. It went ridiculously well. He came back into town Wednesday night and stayed until last night (Sunday) at about 11:30. We took a break from each other for about 6 hours on Friday to avoid reaching a saturation point, but besides that, we've been together constantly. We both realized that we probably wouldn't have the opportunity to spend so much time together again (as classes ended for me and he had just quit his job) so we figured why not? We made breakfasts, got coffee, went to dinners, went out with his friends, went out with my friends, made out, walked along the cliff above the beach, read to each other, watched a movie, made out, discussed past relationships, discussed art and philosophy, made out, shared our creative work with each other, gave feedback, and laughed. A lot. I don't remember ever having such stimulating conversation with someone so consistently. And he is so fun. I don't know that I've ever felt so comfortable with someone so quickly. My soul is happy.
Like the m&ms
So the aforementioned boy wrote back within hours of me writing the previous post. He put in his notice at work on Monday and has been dealing with that. Actual significant life events. AND at the end of his *long* email, he asked if I wanted to go out this weekend. Presumably we will be meeting tomorrow night. I am resisting the urge to shout from rooftops until after the date. Because I am a rational human being. And I know that he might only be good on virtual paper.
Losing the Game
So about three weeks ago, I registered on an online dating site. I was tired of all of my thoughts being dominated by men who are completely inaccessible. Best to find guys who are moderately inaccessible through the internets. I learned a few things quickly, namely that online dating actually functions almost identically to real-life dating. In other words, certain dictums still hold true: 1) even men who have resorted to online dating retain the need to be the pursuer; 2) if women attempt to pursue, they are met with little if any response; 3) a woman must only look and flirt quietly initially; 4) men are still as likely to scare; and 5) they still want younger women and women still want men who are mature.
I was first contacted by an attractive guy whose search radius I was outside of. He lives in San Fran and I'm in Santa Cruz. I wrote him back a short, casual email and got no response... until 10 days later. At which point, I was already talking to someone else and annoyed with the delayed response. Most of the guys who email me are not my type. I have a very specific type which I break from rarely. I like guys who are tall, have dark hair and usually have a little bit of goofiness visible. I'm not sure that I could explain the goofiness, but Vince Vaughn is a decent example. I like guys who don't take themselves too seriously, but still have some ambition. This is often hard to find. I've realized that my attraction to guys who tend to lighten the mood, whether subconscious or no, is pretty deliberate. I am someone who tends to wallow. I know how to have fun, but I overthink things and I plan, and I like being with men who can shock me out of myself so I can't but have a good time. My last relationship I dated someone very much like me, brooding but funny and we totally dragged each other down. It was awful. Anyway, so I get the sense from a lot of the guys that email me that they're shy or reserved or serious, and I know how poorly that would end up. I am not the loud and fun to your quiet and kind. I need to be the sarcastic and introspective to your ambitious and funloving.
A guy who actually fit the bill to a tee contacted me several days after I got on. He was really witty through email and the banter we had was fantastic. His pictures were fun, he was well-traveled, very intelligent, interested in society and environmental issues, read a lot, was musical, etc. Two things which might bother other people but didn't bother me were the facts that he didn't have a college degree and worked in construction. In my opinion, if someone is happy, intelligent and ambitious in whatever they're doing, then that's enough. For a couple of weeks, we exchanged emails almost every day until Thanksgiving. My friend Lauren shared with me the feeling of "he was already my boyfriend in my head" that she had with a couple of guys she talked to online, only to have those hopes dashed when she met them. The last email the guy sent me was on Saturday evening while I was with friends in Texas. It was a great email, as usual, and he finished by saying he was sure I would be busy getting settled back in at home, but to "talk soon." I wrote him back Monday night, proud of myself that I had actually taken the time to resettle and get some school stuff done before responding. Upon rereading my email the next day, I realized I had written the entire thing without asking a question so I sent off a short snippet midday Tuesday responding to something I hadn't yet spoken to.
Then nothing. I'm afraid I may have committed the crucial mistake of "thou shalt not look too eager" and dashed the whole thing before we even got to meet by sending the second email. That I got overconfident with his "talk soon" by talking often. Of course, there's no way to know for sure and I do know better than to send a questioning email. I also know better than to send the "but I really think we could have had something" email.
Been and Gone
My mom called me this morning and from the first "hey, babe..." I knew something was wrong. "I'm afraid I've got some bad news." I braced myself, my body went cold. My grandmother is dead, I thought. She fell, or maybe the cancer came back.
But what she said was Shanna was in an accident last night. She was on a motorcycle, it was a hit and run, she was riding on the back with some guy, don't know if she was wearing a helmet or not. They were forced off the road. She must have died instantly.
Shanna is my cousin. The one whose hand-me-down clothes I got when she outgrew them. The one who had a beautiful singing voice and who inspired me to join choir. To join Spirit Wind. I also joined the swim team like she did. She was the older sister I never had. When my grandfather died in '96, we sang "Many Gifts, One Spirit" at his funeral together.
We had the same smile, and the same laugh. I remember being really proud of that. Because she was such a fun, vital person. Now I'm the only one with this smile. And nothing right now could make me sadder.
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The Book of Love
As you may have read in an earlier post, a few weeks ago, a seemingly very nice Navy boy wielding a somewhat large knife gave me his phone number and led me to believe he was interested in me. This boy and I have been playing phone tag through voicemails and text messages for two weeks and finally today we made contact. I had texted him late morning to see if he wanted to get a beer tonight. He called back about an hour later and sounded in favor of the idea. We discussed where to go, what time to go. And then he let this bomb drop:
My girlfriend is in from out of town. Then continued to ask if I liked to play pool, what about darts? He had some he could bring along to this great place on 41st. What side of town do I live on?
I was completely dumbfounded. Literally mouth agape. I think I stopped saying anything but "umm, uhhuh, sure." WHAT THE HELL?!!! I've discussed this with a couple of girlfriends and they agree that probably he was hoping to get some action on the side without ever having to bring her up. Living in a new city, new opportunities, new women, etc., etc. So either she came into town and he had to respond to me in front of her, or he felt guilty but wanted to play it off like I was the one being presumptuous in thinking that by giving me his phone number that meant anything more than general amiability.
Incidentally, he is one of THREE guys with the same name that I have met since I've been here who I could potentially be interested in; all of them have girlfriends. It's the girlfriend curse. I get definite vibes from at least two of them, but what to do? One of my friends here just declared celibacy. I'm starting to think that may be the best route. Because this is getting ridiculous. And at least if it were my choice, I wouldn't feel like I was getting shafted.
