Dreaming of Sudoku

I keep dreaming of sudoku, and I’m relieved. Given the events of the week, my dreams could be a lot worse. So, I play the number game before bed until my eyes are fried, which doesn’t take that long as I forget to blink. But that’s not the point of this blog. In fact, I’m not sure that this blog has a point except to process the week.

Lets start off with the least worrisome… I listened to the guy’s (as in guy of previous blogs) podcast where he and his friend discuss what happened. You know that gut wrenching anxiety you feel when you watch Meet the Parents? Yeah, it was worse than that. Physical pains in my stomach. And it wasn’t as though he was saying anything negative or untrue. But fuck me! I knew it was about me, and best friend was laughing the whole time we were listening. So really, she did it to torture me. I appreciate that about her. It’s why we’re friends after all this time. The worst part is he is even more of a person now that I’ve heard his side of the story. Isn’t the whole point of meeting people online is the anonymity?!?! Maybe I was wrong. Anyhow… Now, for reals, I hope this is behind us, and she never brings up guy again.

There was a super awkward intern meeting at my internship on Tuesday. I’ll let you in on an industry secret… counselors/therapists are FUCKING AWKWARD! Seriously, you’d think a group of people who make people their business would be at least slightly above the awkward line. Nope. Granted, we talked our shit out to some degree, but holy crap for a while there, it was as though I were watching Meet the Parents. (I probably should stop picking on that movie.) Then today, my supervisor wanted to talk about it one on one to get my reaction, which surprisingly wasn’t that awkward. Maybe it’s just compared to Tuesday that our meeting today wasn’t awkward. Oooh it’s the chicken or the egg bullshit question… And mind fuck is over.

Monday… I don’t know what to say about it. I was doing crafts as peoples’ lives were forever changed. Lives ended and I was playing with glitter glue. In the aftermath, there’s confusion. What could possibly be the statement behind blowing up the marathon? Did those responsible think it would be fun to pretend to be Batman villains and make chaos for the sake of chaos? It makes no fucking sense! Then as a counselor/therapist, I wonder what the backlash will be against those who have mental health diagnoses, because lets be fucking honest… Who the hell in their right mind would hate fun runners so much as to try and blow them up? (Too soon to be so crass?)

And that’s my week in review. I don’t really want to go to class tomorrow. If I weren’t going to Japan next month, this would have been the quarter I completed my internship. Instead, I’m tacking on ten more weeks. But hey, I’m safe and so are my loved ones. I have it better than a lot of people.

Do you ever wish…

Do you ever wish it were May? May means going to Japan and seeing people. People who see me for me.

Do you ever wish to forget? Forget that one time when I did that thing to make me blush. Blush is something I do every day.

Do you ever wish life could be paused? Paused in those moments I wish to go on. On until I memorized every detail.

Do you ever wish it took less time to write sentences? Sentences about life and love. Love that isn’t coming.

Do you ever wish certain things were acceptable? Acceptable to others with judgmental stares. Stares that make me feel like a kid.

Do you ever wish life were like sudoku? Sudoku where I stare at it long enough and it makes sense. Sense to me.

A Letter She’ll Never Read

Dear _______,

Who the fuck do you think you are? Seriously. I want to know who you are convinced you are in order to speak to anyone that way. Guess what bitch! Who ever think you are, you’re wrong. Totally wrong.

I am baffled how you have children, and how they’ve managed to live with you. I bet your kids are the type of people who end up in my office. Hell, if I were your kid, I’d probably kill myself because you suck. You are a wretched person, and I can’t believe you ever thought you are good at what you do.

I’ve never wanted to punch anyone in the face as badly as I’ve wanted to punch you. Well, in recent years. You fucked up my entire week. Thank you. I didn’t want to expect too much from you like respect. I hope you get fired and blacklisted. You cannot treat people like that and not expect a reaction.

Fuck off,

Me.

I feel better now. Not my finest work, but I needed to get that off my chest.

I don’t know if this is even going to deserve a title

I’ve been going back and forth about writing this blog. Partly because if I look at the screen for too long without contacts my eyes fry, and I lost my contacts this week. (Not a huge deal as I have new ones coming but still can’t see until they get here.) Also, I don’t want to think about my most recent adventures with online dating any more. However, I do, in fact, keep thinking about it. I can’t help but think that if this whole thing had happened to three less socially awkward people, it wouldn’t have been quite the ordeal and freak out it turned into.

Alas, it happened to me (and two other quite socially retarded people), and I’m left looking to the movies for what could have been. I would have never thought of comparing the situation and behaviors to Pride & Prejudice had best friend not started referring to guy as Wickham. I personally think it’s a bit extreme. I mean guy is not dating my underage sister or anything as I don’t have any sisters. This got me thinking who then is his Jane Austen equivalent?

My initial thought was Collins. Totally Collins. Save for him not being an actual vicar nor did Collins ever ignore Lizzie. But he does have the social skills of Collins (at least from my perspective. Remember: I’ve never actually seen or spoke with guy, and people usually are better online than in person. So, I shudder to think of how guy is in real life). But you know who else is a socially awkward fella in P&P? Darcy! I would have never considered Darcy if best friend hadn’t started quoting to me “She is tolerable, I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me.” When Elizabeth heard this, she laughed about it with her friends. When I read the last message from guy, I laughed about it with my friends.

So, does that make guy Darcy? Probably not, because guy will most likely never see my fine eyes. (The thought of running into him somewhere causes me to envy the life of a hermit, though granted, he’s so tall he’d probably only see the top of my head and wouldn’t recognize me.) Thus he is no one in Pride & Prejudice. And if I’m being totally honest, I am far too anti-social to ever be a Lizzie.

I’ve always considered myself on par with Anne Elliot from Persuasion. And suddenly things clicked. When Wentworth came back to Kellynch, he essentially ignored Anne, whilst Anne ruminates on their interactions. And lets not forget, Wentworth digs on Louisa. So yeah… we’re Persuasion. But since I don’t have Jane Austen writing my life for me, guy will never think about me again, best friend will continue to think of him as Wickham for a while, and I will move to another country where it will be much more difficult for my worlds to collide.

Which is worse…

I love (hate with the fire of a thousand flames) when I haul my ass out of bed and drive up to armpit of the Greater Seattle area just to have a client no show no call. Then not be able to return to all that I love, because I wasn’t able to get a hold of an equally flaky client scheduled for the afternoon. So… I’m stuck at a coffee shop chain until it warms up enough for me to hang out outside. I’ve only been here a half hour, and already I have been struck by a few pairings of “which is worse”. Rather than posting bad quality pics of my coffee taken on my phone, I will share my conundrums with you.

Which is worse (fellow patrons)…

Three local policemen talking about Little Wayne (note not Lil) sitting next to you or a gaggle of middle-aged stay at home moms celebrating something sitting next to you. Both represent authority figures. Both conversations have made me bite the inside of my mouth to keep the burst of laughter tickling my throat from escaping. At least the cops have guns. Conclusion: sitting next to a bunch of old biddies is worse than sitting next to local law enforcement.

Which is worse (fashion)…

A man wearing a yellow and black argyle sweater vest or one of the said gaggle from above wearing forest green cords. This is difficult. I am not fashionable in the least. I know nothing of what’s hip with the geriatric crowd (except for maybe having  hips). Cords at one point in time in my life were cool, and I can’t remember a time when argyle sweater vests were a thing. Conclusion: a man wearing a yellow and black argyle sweater vest is more offensive to my fashion sensibilities than green cords.

Which is worse (bugs)…

A medium sized spider walking across the floor (I know that a spider isn’t technically a bug-get off my junk) or a freaking huge black furry flying thing trying to get in but keeps bumping into the window. I have zero problem with spiders. None. I do have a problem with a bug tying to get me and shakes the window every time it flies into it. Conclusion: scary black furry flying bug is way worse than a spider. Note: I realize that this finding is probably very controversial as there are many people who find spiders to be the essence of all that is wrong in this world.

Which is worse (overheard conversations)…

The aforementioned “Little Wayne” convo or the most awkward introducion I’ve ever witnessed (note I said witnessed not that I’ve been part of). Both are highly laughter inducing. Both make me almost thankful I was here to witness/overhear such exchanges. This is tough. Once again I will have to default to the cops have guns, which I’m almost positive they know how to use. Conclusion: The most awkward introduction I’ve ever witnessed is worse. However, in this case, being “worse” is better.

And I’d like to take a moment to thank the elderly gent who was wearing: white sports socks with brown sandals; black sweat pants with a white stripe; a Hawaiian print shirt with aeroplanes on it and a grey sleeveless jacket. Yikes! I almost forgot about the gold chain around his neck. You sir obviously don’t give a shit, and I salute you.

Back to the games. Actually, I think I only have one more. Don’t cry dear readers, you can play this game yourselves. Just look around you.

Which is worse (Northwester)…

Guy wearing cargo shorts and flip flops or woman wearing a wool peacoat. Just to set up the situation of today: it is currently sunny out, but not warm at all (at least at the moment). Both these outfits seem a little extreme in opposite directions. It’s not THAT cold out, but it’s not THAT warm out either. It’s a problem all of us who live in the Pac Northwest face. I personally wear flip flops as much as possible, but then again I NEVER wear shorts. I also love the jackets and coats. On days like these I wear hoodies with lighter jackets-layers are key to my comfort. Conclusion: both of them fail at dressing appropriately for the weather.

Okay, maybe my last conclusion isn’t fair. Maybe it’s a “bit harsh”. But I’m tired and drinking coffee that tastes like cigarettes.

Reminders for the Future

These aren’t so much for anyone else but for me. However, I’d like to think that some of them are applicable in a general way.

#1 Having a crush is NOT as fun as I imagine, nor is even the potential of being smitten. Also the same can be said for opposite sex drama in general. I need to remember this next time I think that I should find someone to crush on because my life lacks interest, which leads to the second reminder…

#2 Setting up an online dating profile is not a good idea. The reasons for it may vary but it’s a bad idea. There’s a reason why people are doing online profiles rather than actually… No I’m going to stop ranting now.

#3 I really want to move to Ireland. And if not Ireland, then there are many other countries that will suffice. I realize that it takes a lot of work to migrate, but it’s worth it. Sometimes a complete change in scenery is required.

#4 Good beer is good. I don’t really need to say any more about this.

#5 I need to be myself. I don’t want to put forth the energy to pretend I don’t have a shit load of issues or to be nice.

#6 I am awkward in most social situations, but I’m not the most socially awkward person. This is closely related to the reminder above. Give yourself credit where credit is due, which is kind of related to the following…

#7 PERSPECTIVE!!! I could say a lot about this, but I don’t really need to.

#8 I prefer it when people have balls. Balls to be honest. Balls to take a risk. Balls to change plans. Balls to face their own demons. Balls to be bat shit crazy. Balls to own whatever it is you own.

#9 Use colored pens more often. Just because 10 is too cliche and 8 isn’t enough in this blog.

An Explanation

I don’t think there’s one specific reason why I set up an online dating profile. There were the usual reasons: boredom and watching too many Rom-Coms. But there was also good whiskey and a couple anniversaries of things I’d rather not think about involved the night when I decided to bite the bullet. Oh and of course PMS played a role in this desperate choice.

Nothing out of the ordinary happened for a couple days. I browsed profiles and people looked at mine. Whatever. Then I noticed I could actually rate fellas. Being overly judgmental for a myriad of reasons, I jumped on that feature. The first guy I saw wasn’t a complete dog and didn’t seem like any of the guys I’ve met in the past four years. SO I gave him a good rating and moved on.

Much to my surprise, he sent me a message. And we started chatting. A short story even shorter, we agreed if we were in the same spot at the same time we’d say hi to each other. Then nothing. I didn’t see him, so I sent a quick message hoping that he didn’t waste his time. And still didn’t get any reply.

The next day I was talking to my best friend about my most recent adventures as we hadn’t talked in a couple weeks. Naturally, my escapades online were brought up because the stories I was telling myself made me wish I didn’t have a uterus so I could think about the situation rationally. (Yes. That was horribly sexist and I don’t actually mean it.) And to make a longish story shorter, my best friend knows said online fella who stopped talking to me.

AWKWARD. Luckily, I wasn’t the only one freaking about the connection. Good best friend was freaking herself. When I got off the phone with her, I immediately deleted my online dating profile. The next day I was still thinking about the whole fucking situation and composed my previous blog literally by e-mailing myself. A couple days later, I actually got together with best friend, and we talked about guy a lot.

I went home feeling like shit. I knew he knew my friend. My friend knew he had set up an online profile. I decided the next morning I would send him a FB message letting him in on the connection. Granted, I tossed and turned all night trying to think of how not to sound like an ass and/or stalker when I messaged him. The light of day blessed my writing prowess and I sent him a message explaining to him our connection via my best friend.

Him being a nice guy responded, and we exchanged a couple messages about the fucked-upness of the situation. Then nothing. I happened to be at my internship, and a dear fellow intern suggested I just ask him out for coffee to get it out of the online realm. Especially considering both of us were bitching about it. And I got nothing.

I’m not an idiot. I’ve read “He’s Just Not Into You”. I know that his silence meant he wasn’t interested. So, I chalked the whole thing up as a coincidence and took it as a sign to get the hell out of the country ASAP.  (Hey signs are what you make of them.) Best friend couldn’t possibly understand how I could accept silence as an answer, even after I explained the modern dating world to her. Once she got a couple drinks in her, she sent him a text wanting to know if he’d actually respond to my message.

She got a text back from him while she and I were still hanging out. So, I knew he “potentially” found someone else before I got internet access to check my facebook. Knowing that he was interested in someone else is a lot less traumatic than the stories I was telling myself. I did have to console my best friend as she mourned the loss of opportunity to play matchmaker. I had to promise her that I wouldn’t die alone and then eaten by my many cats-she hates cats.

Then when I do get home and finally check my facebook, I suddenly wanted to punch guy in the face. Not because he met someone. Shit I can’t fault anyone for meeting someone. No. I wanted to punch him in the face for thinking that ignoring someone is less hurtful than hearing no. AND to top it off, he justified it by saying he’s been ignored plenty of times. I did take this statement as permission to not respond.

THE END.

Footnote: I may have told him a half truth about why I freaked out when I found out about the connection. I said it was because I was afraid of finding a quality guy or some shit, which I’m sure on some level is potentially true. The more true answer is I would never ask my best friend to set me up with anyone nor would I introduce her to anyone I wasn’t serious about. Also I freak the fuck out whenever my worlds collide; ie when my cousin and a friend became friends.

Prologue: I promised a friend I’d try speed dating with her. I will keep my promise because that’s how I roll. But before I go, I will write a list of my friends (It won’t take long) and then present it to every guy I meet. If he knows any of them, I will tell him to move along.