Campfyre Stories

So I know I told you about the guy at the bus stop.  And I know I made mention of the pathetic and desperate loser on the bus.  And it’s weird that these things are happenning, because, as a fat chick, I am unaccustomed to being targeted, especially so aggressively,  but it just keeps going…

Well, on Sunday, I was running around like a madwoman.  I had just started my laundry and was power-walking to pick up some smokes.  I smiled at a guy sitting on a bench as I walked past and he smiled back.  No biggie.  But then, when I was coming back, he says "Are you in a hurry?"  "Define hurry," I said, because I kind of was, but didn’t actually need to be.

"You’re walking really fast.  I was just wondering if you had time to stop and talk to me."

"Um.  Ok.  You can have 5 minutes.  What’s up?"

"Oh, I’m just waiting on a friend, and was getting kind of lonely."

Huh.  So we chatted for a minute and then his friend showed up.  I took back off and finished my chores.

THEN, on Monday, as I was walking to the bus stop, TWO carloads of people slowed down to lean out the windows and shout "Heeeyyyy!" at me.

Here’s the thing.  I’m not doing anything differently.  I haven’t started wearing makeup or doing my hair.  Hell, I haven’t had a haircut or touched up the color in probably too long at this point.  In fact, most of the time when these people are hitting on or catcalling me I’m sweating like crazy because it’s hot and I’ve been power-walking for miles, or I’m just waking up and still partially asleep.

I don’t know why any of this is happening, but I’m not displeased.  Just a little confuzzled.

So I have decided that with all this attraction that I am apparently sending out to the world, now is the perfect time for me to try…  speed dating.

Yes, that’s right, I said speed dating.  And it’s something I’ve been wanting to experience for some time now.  In fact, Princess and I have been discussing it for YEARS.  Unfortunately, she will be out of town for the first such event in our area.  I guess I’m gonna fly this one solo, which is ok, because I think I have some kind of mojo on my side.  I feel like I’m *supposed* to go to this.

Worst case, I get a good blog post out of it, though, right?

I’m not a sappy, sentimental person most of the time.  I rarely cry at movies, I don’t think I’ve ever cried over a book.  I’m outwardly pretty emotionally cold most of the time.  I remember when I was 9 and my grandmother died, I played the same sad song over and over and over again until it moved me to tears.  It wasn’t that I was unaffected, it was just that I didn’t have that outward emotional reaction.

Some would say this is unhealthy.

Sometimes it is.  Sometimes when things get really a bad, a good cry can do a world of good, but the older I get, the harder it is to force it if it just won’t come on its own, so I do the best I can.

But, I think, it only really applies to sadness.  I share my joy and laugh freely (as almost anyone can attest).  When I’m angry, I stand up for myself and remedy the situation.  I love with abandon, but…  I’m not allowed to share that with everyone because of the societal rules that are put on it.

I can tell my girls that I love them.  I can tell my family I love them.  With the boys…  not so much, though.  There are a couple I can say "…and that’s why I love you," but it’s more likely to come out as "…and that’s why you’re my friend."  Love is a four-letter word and its use is restricted specifically to romance among non-relations.

*sigh*

But I do love freely.  And when I say "love" I don’t mean "marry me".  It makes me wish that there was a wholly different word that means "in love" or "romantic love" because love is so much more than the boyfriend/girlfriend, husband/wife thing.

It’s hard for me, because every now and again, I find myself leaning toward that "in love" with people who I really just love, but can’t tell.  I think it’s something that’s been a problem in a lot of my romantic relationships - that the taboo of feeling love means that the only way to say it and feel it and have it be acceptable is to be lovers.  That sucks.

When I was a teenager, I adored the freedom of cuddling with my friends.  Of feeling like I could sit in M’s lap or lean against him with his arm around my shoulders and have it just be what it was.  It wasn’t until much MUCH later that I found out that he…   all the hes…  wanted it to be more, but were ok with taking what they could get.  I would have lived a happier, if more naive, life not having known about the "wanting more".

I probably only have one male friend now who I can stand next to with my arm around his waist and his arm around my shoulder and not feel like we’re doing something wrong.  He knows that I’ve "adopted" him as my brother and there’s no weird tension.  We’re both touchy-feely people and it’s not awkward, but he’s rare in my life these days.

And the problem is that my outlet for this lack of outward, identified, pure love for the people who are important in my life is to write love songs.  Romantic love songs.  Unrequited love songs.

Not written to the men who I wish I could tell in simple terms that they are important to me, but to men who I have created a fantasy of romantic love around.  I’ve fallen so far into this idea that I’m not even really sure what "in love" means anymore.  Not because I haven’t felt it, but because I’m questioning my own definition and the line between what it’s acceptable to say and what might make people uncomfortable simply because I have different parts.

I’ve realized that this is really my genre.  When people ask "what kind of songs do you write?" the answer is love songs.  Sometimes it’s not about a boy, or it’s some kind of departure, but fundamentally, they’re all love songs.  I may very well be in love with the concept of love in all its forms.

With one primary exception, I fall in and out of infatuation with people pretty regularly.  I fall for someone long enough to write a song about the feelings I’m experiencing and then I move on.  Sometimes it’s a friend of mine, sometimes it’s someone I only know a little, sometimes it’s someone I have created in my head, but it’s generally pretty brief and I get over it and move on to the next crush.

When I don’t get over it, it’s a little scary.  When I get over it for a little while and it comes back, it’s more than a little scary.  When it’s there so strongly that writing a song doesn’t even mitigate the feelings, it’s downright terrifying.  Since I’ve been really writing songs (let’s call it the past 4-5 years), that has only happened once…  and hasn’t gone away.

And I’m not one to be weepy and sentimental and gushing.  I’m a lot more prone to assuming that He already knows and isn’t interested or he would have said something.  This is stupid, I am aware, but it’s less stupid than losing an important person from my life entirely.  So what did I do?  Well, I wrote a song.  Not about him, but about my own knowledge of the risks of saying something and the difficulty of not saying anything and being resigned to never actually acting on the feelings that simply won’t go away.

And it’s pretty.  It’s another unrequited, romantic love song.  But some part of me can’t help but wonder if I could branch out from this niche I’ve locked myself into and stop myself from falling in and out of infatuation, if only it were possible to tell more of the people I love platonically how much they mean to me, in the words that define it in my head, and in my heart.

There are no details to be had because they don’t currently, nor will they ever, matter.  I kissed a boy the other night.   Half the people whose opinions matter to me would say it was inappropriate, the other half would applaud me for it, but whether or not their opinions matter isn’t the point, the point is that a kiss is just a kiss is just a kiss is just a kiss is just…

I can’t count the number of people I have kissed.  I would hope that most people can say the same.  I kissed people when I was married, when I was dating someone, when I was single, whenever.  It’s just a moment and even with a little passion in it a kiss doesn’t cause drama unless you read too much into it.  A kiss is just a kiss is just a kiss is just…

What is a New Year’s Eve without a kiss?  It’s an incomplete ending and an incomplete start.  You can kiss your friends or strangers.  You can kiss several people and, mostly, no one will think less of you for it.  There’s almost an immunity from whatever kissing taboos there are on New Year’s Eve, but it’s a real shame that those taboos have to exist at all.  A kiss is just a kiss is just…

It was bound to happen sooner or later and we both knew it.  I think that part of the ultimate conclusion for me was to just get it over with already!  And on so many levels we just diffused whatever tension there may have been.  Who knows?  Maybe it will create a new tension, but in the moment?  It was a perfect moment.

A kiss is just…

I don’t remember if I actually blogged about this when it happened.

Maybe two years ago I was idly conversing with Girl when we started talking about our Lists.  All the qualities that we *insist* upon in terms of finding a man.  Some of our criteria was the same (has to have a real job, has to have his own place to live), but most of it was personal.  After she left from that short visit, I kept thinking about My List and developing it further until I had a comprehensive list of all the things that I NEED from a partner.

Many of the things that went on my List were things that I had learned from previous relationships, the rest were things that I had never really had, but I wonder if the addition of them would have made a difference.  To be entirely honest, I think that some of the List items were partially inspired by people I previously had crushes on, embodying those qualities that drew me to them, but in just about every case, something else on the list would rule out those guys and I could quietly start the process of uncrushing.

I finally wound up with some 15ish qualities that I was looking for.  I prioritized the list and put it away somewhere (heh, somewhere safe and promptly lost it), feeling fairly certain that I would never find any one person who actually met every single thing on the list.

And then I did.  Find him, that is.  And even before I realized that he matched ~*every single listed quality*~, I was immediately drawn to him.  We just click, you know?  And we hang out a little and talk when we can and we BOTH enjoy the interaction.

Then it hit me.  Every.  Single.  Item.  THIS, I realized, was the guy that I had dreamed up when I wrote that list.  This was the person who could meet all those specific criteria that I could actually define as needs more than wants and, not only that, but there are all these other qualities that I never would have put on a list, but, wow, they sure would be nice to have.

And he’s unavailable to me.  For reasons that are distinct enough that I won’t mention them publicly; for all intents and purposes, he is simply not available.

So I am trying to not play the "what if" games, and I am trying not to look for any hint of reciprocity and I am trying to just let it go.  I am trying to be amused at the existence of someone I didn’t believe existed and to not be frustrated that, having found out about his existence, he still doesn’t actually exist *for me*.  The problem is having made this connection with a List that was created several years ago on a whim, but accurately and thoroughly.

But who knows?  Maybe the simple fact that a person who embodies all the qualities that I wished for is enough to lead me to believe that there’s another one out there.  All I have to do now is convince myself of it.

I’ve been wracking my brain for over an hour and I can only think of one married man that I am friends with.  It’s interesting to me that I’m able to even have the one, but I know his wife and she doesn’t tend to have the same kind of competitive mindset as the majority of mainstream women.  It’s refreshing to have that one person/couple as friends without worry.

That competitiveness has always turned me off from women in general, and is the primary reason that I can count my female friends on one hand, but it’s always caused me to be perceived in highly inaccurate ways, usually by those who don’t understand why I prefer the platonic company of men.

When I was in high school, despite the fact that I had a long-distance boyfriend that I was loyal to - the entire time, who I later married, I was considered a "slut" because I ran around with boys…  most of whom had girlfriends.  There was never anything sexual about it, but catty girls apparently thought there was.

So here are three stories about how my having boobs means I can’t have married male friends…

Finish Reading »

…on so many levels!  Thank goodness most of my friends are as well.

Yesterday was a real treat for me.  My little brother’s school was having a fundraiser for the Senior class and they decided to hold a Spa Night.  For $20 I got a clay face mask, a facial steam, aromatherapy, herbal tea and a chair massage.  Though I invited several of my girls, none could make it this time around.  If they had come with, they would better understand why and how I am a dirty old lady.

First off, let me say that this was exactly what I needed.  It was incredibly relaxing and nice to be pampered (for only $20!).  They say that they may be doing this again and periodically.  Sign me up for it monthly.

Ok, so here’s the thing.  My brother’s school is part of a very tightly-knit community.  It is affiliated with the alternative elementary school in my area and most everyone knows everyone else.  Not me so much, simply because I’ve removed myself from it, but 20+ years ago it was true for me as well.

There were a lot of babies born when I was attending The Free School and, in a school that tops out somewhere between 50-70 kids total for all the grades, you pretty much know everyone and the older kids (girls) are usually the ones hired to babysit the little ones.  I still see some of the kids who I’ve known since (before) they were born.

My justification is that when you go to get a massage from a guy who is a little over 6′, amazingly well toned, GORGEOUS (it’s completely accurate to call him a hottie) and has a very deep sexy voice, unless he is actually related to you, how can you not feel at least *some* pull of attraction?  But it’s not even really a problem until after his strong hands have worked their magic and he utters the handful of what really should be innocuous statements like "Do you mind if I use some lotion?" and, at the end, "Thank you."  Because those two moments were what caused me to have some seriously indecent thoughts about this boy who is Far Too Young for me, who I have known his entire life!

Yes, I feel dirty.

Even worse, I feel very strongly that if this Spa Night doesn’t become a regular thing, I may have to pay the Boy (who is a licensed masseur) to rub me down from time to time.  Shut up!  Not like THAT.

But wait, there’s more!

Finish Reading »

If you go out drinking with me, you either love me or hate me. That is the point where there is no more ambivilence.

They love me.

Heh. probably. Durnk.

…so part of me was really looking forward to today.

However, as it progressed, I became more and more disheartened in the day itself.  My interview was cancelled and, despite sending out more resumes than I remembered to count, all I got in return was an out of office reply :-/  Meh.  Blah.

But, then I started a new blog, which needs a better template for sure, and maybe some more links (suggestions are appreciated) and, since it’s a pop culture blog, I decided that I needed to go see a movie to review.  My brother, RC2 couldn’t join me, so I ventured out on my own, which I generally don’t like, but, for the review blog, I can do it.

And everything changed. 

I have a bit of a crush on the Greek (heritage) boy who works at the local cafe, but I don’t see him there very often.  Being as shy as I am with new people (shut up, I really AM shy with new people), I never actually got up the guts to introduce myself, but in my natural flirtatious state, he and I got to talking.  He’s a musician, too…  not only that, but an acoustic guitar, folky singer/songwriter who lives right around the corner from me.  Well,  a couple of days ago, I got re-motivated to pick up the guitar again, and, upon sitting down, wrote a new song.  I’m still pretty burnt out on playing by myself at the same place and, frankly, I had been feeling stagnant for a while, I also need to find some new bases of support as the old ones aren’t really there much anymore.

So I gave him my number…  and my name…  and got his name.  *blush*  He’s really very cute and I totally crush him, but I want this to be about the music…  even if he’s pretty…  maybe he can inspire me (and I mean that without ANY undertones - I need a new source of inspiration).  I hope he calls.  And, no, I know what you’re thinking, and while I may be thinking it too, I’m not putting that particular cliche into words…  yet.

Anyway, saw an excellent movie and wrote what I feel to be a good review to launch the Firing Range (even if it does need more work). 

My day got much better, and I’m feeling a little more lucky right about now.

I have no details to give.  Frankly, even if I tried, I’d leave out important parts, so here’s the summary:

Starting on Thursday, I didn’t really have much of a chance to stop for long.  A friend came up on Friday for a long weekend and we kept right on moving through the whole weekend.  I have to admit, one of my favorite things about having the Cowboy in town is that he trusts me to find the really cool places for just about anything and he knows that in my capable hands we will have a good time no matter where we go.

Best breakfast place in town to kick off our Saturday and, on that foundation we headed out to Troy to spend time with his friends.  The most interesting bit, for me, was that even though we were vastly outnumbered by boys, I spent the majority of my time hanging out with women for most of the entire day/night.  This is extremely rare for me, and I get the feeling that it’s pretty rare for the other girls, but it was pretty nice to do that at least once.

After being bombarded the previous weekend with text messages from Miz, I was under strict orders to do the same to her.  She got the text, but the picture mail didn’t go through.  I’m going to have unlazy myself and email some of those pics, but I’m thinking maybe the better plan is to just upload them and send a link to the couple of people who want to see them…  and in the process try to find a way to motivate Ryan to send me his pics, too..

A long day of drinking, socializing and hockey.  It’s always a really nice thing, I find, to be able to put faces with names.  Heh, and after hearing over and over again "You know so-and-so" (when I don’t), it’s nice that I can finally say "Yes, yes I do."  I’m also pretty pleased with myself and my showing at poker.  I always look at my buy-in as lost money as soon as I’m bought in, so counting the two buy-ins and the money the Cowboy and I won, it paid for most of our weekend.  I couldn’t have asked for more than that.

Sunday was a lazier day in general, but there were still places to go and people to see.  I spent some quality burn-me-out time with the Child of Chaos while listening to music and experiencing a Fair Trade Coffee Tasting.  I liked the Sumatra and managed to spill almost all of the Jungle Love French Roast all over myself.  Woo hoo!  Go me.

The Cowboy took off for a while after we got back to do yet more socializing while I just sat and read my new book., which may very well be the best mystery I have *ever* read.  It’s more humor than mystery I think and in a couple of spots, it has made me laugh out loud.  I highly recommend it, if you’re looking for something unlike anything you’ve ever read before.

We ended the weekend in a lazy morning today (yeah, no holiday, whatever…  every day is Saturday for me).  I just need to say that in mid-February it should not be SO HOT in my apartment that I can’t sleep…  or at least stay asleep.  Something’s got to give around here because this middle of the night so hot I can’t breathe is really affecting my sleep patterns.

But now I have today off to spend with the Spawn and a Valentine’s Day date with Princess to see a movie about strippers.   I have another movie date on Wednesday and we’ll see what the rest of the week has to bring.  It seems that this goes in cycles, I am either Ms. Popularity for LONG stretches of time or not at all and go stir-crazy for it.  Maybe in a couple of days I’ll tell you about the court-appointed sexist or the impending custody hearing, but for now I think I’m going to finish the mystery of who killed Humpty Dumpty and figure out what we’re going to have for dinner tonight, while I’m still plan-less for one evening

~FG };^>

Believe it or not, my blog is not nearly as open as my life.  Once upon a time I used to claim that I was an open book, but that you had to use the index to find what you were looking for.  I still believe that, there’s very little about me, my past, my life that’s off limits, but…

I don’t blog about everything.  Some of you may have figured this out, considering that there are *very* few references to the Cowboy (SHUT UP!) and even fewer references to certain other minor aspects or even major players in my life. 

You see, I was sitting here thinking about what to write, knowing that I wanted to, but not knowing what to say.  I got a phone call and some news that put a (great, big) smile on my face, but that remains in the category of things we don’t talk about.  I have plans from tomorrow straight through ’til Monday, but much of it I’m probably not going to talk about and none of it do I feel compelled to talk about before it actually happens.  Maybe it’s discretion, maybe it’s secrecy, maybe it’s just that shy side that people don’t believe I actually have manifesting.  Regardless of the maybes, it’s certainly there.

You see, when I think about it, if I actually wrote down all the things that I think and feel, I think it would scare off a lot of the people who (claim to ) like me.  Honestly, if I were to write some of those things down and read them in someone else’s blog, I would judge them very harshly.  Heh.  I already do sometimes, I suppose, on some level, I don’t need that from an outside source.

But that’s not entirely right, either.  Most of those things I do say out loud.  I say them to the girls, hell I say them to the boys sometimes.  I say them to the people to whom they apply and that’s more than enough.  But to write them down…  Oooh, I don’t know…  there’s something in that concept that makes the whole thing a lot more real.  It almost feels like it doesn’t leave me room to change my mind.

And, frankly, I probably will change my mind on some of the topics.

So there are some names that will probably not see print.  There are some pet names that will rarely see print.  There are certain subjects that I’m just not going to delve into, if for no other reason than I LIKE having some things that retain a measure of being insubstantial…  those are the things, I find, that make life most interesting.

~FG };^>