Per your request . . .

I've had several friends request that I make commenting on my blog easier. I've opened up the comments so that anyone can reply, but in an effort to prevent spam, have set up comments to be moderated before they are posted. That means that I will ultimately approve comments before they appear. I will post all comments (positive or negative) as long as they come from a "real" person. Though I reserve the right to censor comments that are abusive or bullying in nature.

In other news, it is snowing. Again. We have approximately 4,367,002,719 inches of snow on the ground, so what's 3-5" more? At this rate, I plan on sledding to celebrate the 4th of July. Last year on this date it was 80 degrees. Mother Nature is being a jerk. Part of the reason I'm hating the snow is that big changes in barometric pressure make the arthritis in my hands, feet and spine flare and hurt like  a son-of-a-bee-otch.

Because my arthritis pain is driving me crazy, I'll be hyped up on Vicodin today. I would like to personally thank whoever invented/discovered this drug. Not only does it take away my pain, it makes grading fun. Ok, not fun. Who am I kidding - it helps me come up with reasons to procrastinate with grading. I! Love! Vicodin!

I realize that previous paragraph makes me sound like a drug addict. My response? I. Wish.

I'm realizing Vicodin makes writing blog posts fun. I'm guessing it will also make reading blog comments fun. So go ahead, comment.

Actually, I need some advice. Joe and I are "friends" on Facebook. Is it weird/bitchy/acceptable/passive-aggressive to want to "unfriend" him once we are done? Seriously, I don't know what is acceptable.

OK, random funny story - then I'm done. . . When I took Joe on a driving tour of EC yesterday, I had to deal with the horrible pot-holes that are born every spring. I hit a particularly bad one that and exclaimed "Mother Fucker!" Anyone who knows me, knows I swear like a sailor. But it's the first I've sworn around Joe. (Just another sign that I'm not letting myself be "me" around him.) There was awkward silence following my outburst, so I added "Sorry about that. I thought I broke my tire on that pothole." More awkward silence as I glanced at the clock and figured how long it was until Joe would go home. Maybe if I swear a lot during my "break-up speech" Joe will be relieved we are done?

It's not you, it's me.

Dear Blog:
     I've been intentionally ignoring you. I'm sorry.
                     ~KJ

Have you ever been in a situation where you do something because it makes others happy, but makes you not-so-happy? One of my forensics kids (let's call him "Alan") asked if he would ever get to meet Joe. I joked that I had made him up - Joe was a figment of my imagination. Alan replied, "Oh, you made him up so we would stop feeling sorry for you!" Ha Ha Ha.

Wait. What?

I know that Alan was joking. I know that I was joking and laughed along. But then I had a huge, scary, sobering thought . . . Is that why I'm still dating Joe? Am I pressuring myself to feel something for Joe because I'm tired of getting pity for being single?

Shit.

There is some truth here. There is a lot of truth here.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I am surrounded by loving, amazing family and friends. I know they want to see me happy. I know they don't understand my contentment in being single. I know they want me to find someone so I'm not alone anymore. I really, really want to find a significant other who makes my life fuller, happier, richer - and I am not interested in settling for less than that.

And here's where it gets tricky. . . The past several years of casual, part-time dating have made me realize just how rare it is to find a "normal" guy. Joe is normal! He's emotionally available, he's polite and well groomed, he has a stable job, he owns his own home, he's a good parent. There is a part of me that thinks, "Hey! This is what you've been wanting! Someone normal!" But there is another, stronger (crazier?) part of me that knows normal isn't enough. If there were a "real" connection with Joe, I wouldn't be stressed when he's coming over - I would be excited. Logically, on paper, Joe should be a great match. But the reality is that he isn't. And I can't quite explain why. It really is a case of "It's not you, it's me."

Today, Joe came to Eau Claire. We watched a movie, went out to eat, I took him on a driving tour of EC. And the whole time I felt like I was just waiting for him to leave. It's my spring break and Joe took some time off work and the plan was (is?) to spend most of the week together. I don't want to. And here's where it gets even trickier . . . I want to end things with Joe, but have no idea how to go about it. Or when to do it. I don't know how to play the role of "bad guy." I'd like to have the courage to go to Joe's house on Tuesday, and have a face-to-face conversation about ending things. I need to be able to tell Joe that it's nothing he did or didn't do. I need to tell him it's me, not him. But I am scared. I'm scared he will feel blindsided. I'm scared he will hate me. I'm scared he will be indifferent. I'm scared I will chicken out. I'm scared of rejecting someone who should be a "good thing."

But I'm more scared of settling for someone who doesn't make my life fuller, happier, richer.

A seriously serious post

Just when I think the fizzy lifting drinks have gone flat, they fizz again. It's like they are trying to turn into full blown butterflies, but don't have quite enough kick. I think that's because I won't let them. I have issues . . .

I am NOT good at the dating thing. I have a really, really, really hard time opening up and allowing myself to even consider that I'm "worthy" (for lack of a better word) of a relationship. And I know that's still left-over crap from my marriage and divorce.





-------------------------------------->>>
That's me. On my wedding day. Shout out to my Uncle Jerry who photo-shopped Harry Potter's head onto my ex-husband.







When I got married in 1997, I was pretty sure it was forever. I learned that forever lasts 2 years, 9 months and 11 days. That's how long it took for me to discover my husband was cheating on me. That's how long it took for him to refuse counseling and walk out. Follow that with six months of near suicidal depression and a year of serious counseling. Counseling that made me realize I had to take responsibility for my part in the failure of that relationship. I spent about 7 years processing the experience of marriage & divorce, and learning to be happy as a single person again. That was the scariest part - learning to be happy as a single person again. Before I got married, I was a happy, single gal. I wasn't desperate to get married, I figured if it was supposed to happen, it would. And it did. And then it fell apart and I couldn't remember that woman I was before marriage. It felt like I had lost a child in the grocery store, and I couldn't remember what aisle I left her in. Hell, I couldn't remember what store I left her in. It was terrifying. And crippling. And humbling. . . . But I did find her again. I slowly, painfully, awkwardly found my way back to the happy me. The joyful me. The laughing me. It was such a difficult path back to that place, that I am legitimately terrified of straying from the path again.

A year after having gastric bypass surgery, I started thinking about dating again. There were a fair number of awkward dates with awkward guys, but there were several I dated for a couple of months. Looking back, I can see a pattern. Start dating, have a good time, feel like I've drank some fizzing lifting drinks, get freaked out by that gassy feeling, decide there was something completely unimportant that bugged me about the guy, and get out before butterflies ever had a chance to land. To continue the analogy - I'm too scared to chase a butterfly off the comfortable path. What if I can't find my way back? What if I forget what path I was on? What if there's a Big Bad Wolf waiting in the woods to eat my heart? Is there enough super-glue in the world to repair it again?

These questions take my breath away. They literally make me hyperventilate if I think about them too much. I have experienced great love, but what my heart immediately remembers is how painful the end of love was. The logical side of my brain knows this is part of my dating problem. But the emotional side of my brain is scared of not being able to recover from another broken heart. I am so scared of becoming emotionally dependent on another person, scared of losing myself to "couple-ness." I am so fucking scared.

But I think this means that Joe is becoming more important to me than I had anticipated. I think I'm going to have to step off the path into the woods. I will have to go slow. One step at a time. And I may leave a trail of breadcrumbs . ..

*Deep breath*

But seriously . . .

 . . . why do I keep getting messages on OK Cupid from 25 year olds? I have no interest in dating someone young enough to be my son.

Creepy.

And gross.

Movie Guy

Shortly after I wrote my last post, Movie Guy texted me back. Here is our brief, awkward conversation:

 

Note, he said yes to my informal date invitation before figuring out who I was. Doesn't really instill confidence.

 

And I didn't answer the phone because it freaked me out when he actually called.

 

Movie Guy texted again this morning, wanting to know if I wanted to go bowling. Normally, I would find this charming, but - Hello! - I didn't get a snow day like the rest of the world. I told him I'd be home this evening and he should call.

 

So he did . . .

 

And it was the longest 45 minutes Of. My. Life. Actually, I wouldn't call it a conversation. I'd call it a monologue. I listened to a monologue for 45 minutes. I think I said a total of 10 words. Here's the synopsis of the monologue, but I can't vouch for it's accuracy because this guy? He's a mumbler. He may have been drunk. Seriously.

 

He was divorced 4 years ago after his wife cheated on him. Two years ago he was dating a woman who cheated on him, then he got back together with her, then she cheated on him again. Now he's suing her to get the engagement ring back.

 

Still with me? He has gone out with several women in the last few months, but he's just looking for someone to do stuff with - like go bowling. He warned me that telling him I'm in love with him after the first date is not a turn-on. Thank goodness he warned me. He also doesn't want to date someone who talks about their problems. He went out with a woman last month who called him after she wrecked her car in a ditch. Movie Guy didn't know why she thought he should solve her problem.

 

He also has 4 cats. He is a crazy cat man. No irony. I think he's actually crazy.

 

Basically, this was a monologue that was 90% ex-stories and 10% cat stories. He did ask me one question, which he didn't actually allow me to answer. I actually have a headache from this phone call, and it's probably from rolling my eyes.

 

I'm pretty sure that's the last of Movie Guy. And I'm quite OK with that.

 

 

Fairy Tale

When I started this blog, I had visions of a year of hilarious inter-webs dating stories that would culminate in Prince Charming riding up on his White Horse and rescuing me from my evil step-mother on Christmas Eve. He would whisk me away to his castle, dress me in a ball gown and we would live happily every after.

Problem is . . . I don't really believe in fairy tales and ball gowns are horribly uncomfortable. And I'm terrified of horses. And happily-ever-after is bullshit because if I've learned anything from people in long-term relationships, it's that they take a crap-ton of work. Oh, and I met Joe in January and he's really the only date I've had to blog about. Kind of boring. Not what I envisioned.

Perhaps that is why I have done either the smartest or dumbest thing ever. (OK, not "ever," but the dramatic effect was needed.) I've mentioned in previous blog posts that I have active dating profiles on Plenty of Fish and eHarmony. Well, I also have one on OK Cupid. To be honest, I forgot about it until I was cleaning up junk mail on an old email account and found some notices from them.

Let me give you some background on OK Cupid . . . it's a free site, which is fine - except they don't do a great job of weeding out the serious creepers. Which means I get frequent messages like this:

"hi pretty, am alex can we get to know more of each others? i found you lovely while looking here add or write me at (alexmoore778 at ya who dot kom) so we chat and get known more. thanks  "

And no, I didn't alter his email. Feel free to contact Alex if you like. He's all yours.

I mostly check OK-C to laugh at the emails. (I received one last week from an 18-year-old in Chetek WI who wanted to know if I'd be his MILF. Seriously.) But last week, I got a "real" contact.

*Note: Here's where I get to the really smart or really dumb portion of our program.

"Movie Guy" (he is a manager at a movie theater) sent me a really interesting email. We've emailed back and forth a couple of times and he gave me his phone number. He told me I should text or call if I wanted to get together.

So, I texted him exactly 38 minutes ago and told him I was game to meet up for coffee or cocktails some time this week.

I know what you're thinking . . . "But what about Sauce Guy?!? He gave you that fizzy-lifting-drink feeling!" Joe is a good guy, I'm just not sure he's the right guy for me. I'm not giving up on him, but I also don't want to limit a potential opportunity when I'm not sure about him either.

So, there may or may not be disastrous first-date stories to come. . . 41 minutes and still no reply from Movie Guy . . .

Friday crapshoot

I tried to donate blood this morning, and all I have to show for it are 2 sore fingers. I'm apparently anemic. The Red Cross requires a hemoglobin level of 12.5, and the highest they could get out of me today was 11.1. Damn. I should have known.

I tried to give blood for the first time in my life 59 days ago. I barely got through the hemoglobin test (exactly 12.5 on the second finger stick!) but then they couldn't get enough blood for it to count as a donation. Then this happened:

Apparently, the nurse had to dig around to find the right spot, and 12 hours later I had an egg sized lump and a bruise that lasted 2 weeks. I know it's gross, but if I had to live with it for 2 weeks, you can look at it for 2 seconds.

The really sucky part of this is that I'm going to have to start taking iron again if I want to donate blood. For years I was too chicken to donate, then I was on arthritis meds for 8 years that prevented me from donating. Now that I have the guts and the inclination, my iron levels suck. And the only thing that sucks more than my iron levels, is iron supplements in any form.

I went to the Vitamin Shoppe and am going to try this ---> at the recommendation of the "vitamin specialist" there. I took one a while ago, and the good thing is there's no iron-y aftertaste. As long as it doesn't mess w/ my digestive system, I'll be good. I'm also taking a B-12 supplement on top of my multivitamin.

I WILL SUCCESSFULLY GIVE BLOOD IF IT KILLS ME! Well, that was dramatic. I'm going to give the iron 2 weeks to kick in, and try blood donation again.

 

The other exciting thing I did today was make a trip to the Twin Cities to have lunch with a former student who is now an actual adult. It freaks me out when that happens.

Laura works at Disney in Florida and I have not seen her in FOREVER. It was so much fun catching up with her! After lunch, I went shopping at Trader Joe's for the first time. Have you been to Trader Joe's? This place is AMAZING!!! A couple of friends post often about how good "Jo Joe's" (chocolate sandwich cookie) and "Cookie Butter" (like peanut butter, but made with COOKIES) and damn, if they weren't absolutely right. I can't decide if I'm sad there's not a Trader Joe's that's closer, or glad it's so far away because my ass is growing with every spoonful of Cookie Butter that I consume.

I also picked up some pamphlets and tourist guides for the Twin Cities area. Joe's son is going away on a school trip the same week I have spring break, so we've been talking about doing some exploring in the Twin Cities.