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Friday, June 13, 2008
Unsent

Some things are best written, but not sent.  And that is where I find myself at this moment - with a page full of words that are best left to be just that - words on a page:

 

I spent yesterday trying to piece together my feelings and understand what has been going on.  And the only thing I can figure is that what we had wasn’t love at all.  And it saddens me, but relieves me at the same time.  You must have known this during these entire 6 weeks.  Perhaps you ended this because, on your end, it was merely an infatuation, while on my end it was real, altruistic love?  Infatuation dies after a few months, but love lives on and on and on.  And real, honest-to-God, feel it from your head to your toes love DOES conquer all.  All I ever asked for from this relationship was love.  And I honestly thought that was what I had.  But now, as the reality sets in, I’m not so sure.

 
My love for you conquered my fears of falling in love – you meant more to me than every ounce of pain from my past.  I pitched my fear of committing because my love for you was more powerful than my fear of being left behind or abandoned.  That is love.  Being vulnerable in front of your partner – that is love.  Sharing your feelings and thoughts, telling your partner why you hurt – that is love.  Telling you about my mother and how much it hurt to lose her – that was both love and trust.  But you never told me anything that bothered you, despite my asking.  Was it that you didn’t trust me, or was it that you just didn’t love me?  These are the things that pain me now.  Not the end of the relationship – I don’t even know if it was real anymore.  And that is why I am so sad.

 
There are so many things that I know about you.  You love Missoni and D&G.  And any accent items for yourself or your house in gold.  “Lovesong” by The Cure makes you cry every time you hear it, and the song Relax by Mika makes you think.  You love those goofy fantasy novels and your favorite TV show is King of Hill.  You love La Tavola, hate olives, and drink Kir Royales.  You love 80’s music and Dr. Dre, when you hear Justin Timberlake you think about Cara.  You love Italy so much that sometimes I think you wish you were Italian.  You’re very picky about your olive oil and balsamic.  You dilute your POM juice.  You prefer Orange San Pelligrino to Orangina.  You love California.  You collect frogs and have this whole “frog prince” thing going.  You want a motorcycle but are torn between spending the money, the safety aspects, and the midlife crisis thing.  And if you get one, it will most likely be Italian.  And you’ll probably go overboard and get the one that has the flag on it, too. 

 
But you don’t really know much about me.  You couldn’t even remember where we had our first date.  To me, it was unforgettable, but to you – I don’t even want to speculate what it was or wasn’t to you. 

 
What I do know is this.  I want love.  Real, honest-to-God, comes from deep inside-the-heart love.  The kind of love that overlooks my flaws.  The kind of love that trusts me.  Confides in me.  Shares hopes and fears with me.  The kind of love that grows and grows over time – not the kind that hits a speedbump at the 6 month mark and runs away. 

 
My heart is so big and I have so much to offer, and I want to find love more than anything in this world, but it has to be real.  I have to believe that the love is real.  And I honestly don’t know if what we had was real anymore.  And that is why I’m so disappointed.  So crushed and hurt. And that is why I needed to just go away.  Because you keep telling me you love me, but I don’t understand how. 



Posted at 6/13/2008 11:49:06 am by Nibs
Club me!!!!

Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Suck My Boobs

Sorry, Tourette's got me there.  I'm just feeling so ornery!  Lonely mammaries.


Yesterday was Day One of 30 days of Dating Again.  That's right folks, I'm cultivating a positive attitude and going to try one month of match.com.  Of course, this is Day Two and my chipper outlook hasn't failed me yet!  I mean seriously try it this time. I want to have fun. I want to meet people I would normally not consider.  I want to go out to dinner and laugh and not be falling down drunk.

So far I've received correspondence from a computer rocker and a 5 year old black man.  The computer rocker has hair down to his butt which appears in need of a trimming.  My goal: to go out with him and perhaps clean up the ends, followed by a deep conditioning treatment.   The black man has bags under his eyes which are large enough to necessitate handles.

My long-term goal:   To make back my $35 the match.com subscription cost me.  

I'm going to go out with men I normally wouldn't.  I'm going to broaden my horizons. I'm going to reformat my memory disk and possibly even date men whose last book read was _The DaVinci Code_.

I think Nibs is trying a similar experiment on eHARM.   Let's roll the dice and see what happens!   It might be the summer of Yahtzee.



Posted at 6/10/2008 8:56:14 am by gak
(1) Have Been Clubbed

Monday, April 14, 2008
The First Date

Rarely is a first date a memorable experience for me.  With the convenience of online dating and the ease of selection, most first encounters have been reduced to a quick coffee meeting at Starbuck's or an evening happy hour meetup for a drink or two.  So I was completely thrown off my game when I was invited to the botanical garden for a Saturday afternoon stroll through the new orchid exhibit.  As an added bonus, he suggested that dinner in the evening would be nice should there be a mutual interest.    

 
Part 1 – Botanical Garden

The garden changed their entrance and I ended up running a little late due to the detour.  In my hurried state, I made a gross navigational error while parking the car and slammed the front bumper up and over the parking curb.  After cringing and uttering a worrisome, "Oh shit," I stepped out of the car, walked over to the bumper and bent down to my knees and checked it out.  It had a few thick gouges, but nothing too terribly noticeable.  I got up, shrugged my shoulders, flipped my hair and blew it off.  What else was I supposed to do?  The damage was done.  

I briskly walked up to the garden entrance to meet up with my date.  After sitting down on a bench at the entrance, I tried my best to look calm despite my recent parking debacle.  However, deep down my stomach was doing these crazy flip flops – why was I such a nervous wreck?  Was it the parking incident?  Or was it the fact that I was on an honest-to-God real date instead of the usual coffee klatch interview?  

And then I caught him out of the corner of my eye.  At that moment it became absolutely clear to me why I was such a spastic mess.  He was absolutely gorgeous!  And for a moment I felt as though I stepped outside of my body and was assessing this situation from the sidelines, asking myself, "What on earth are you doing on this date?  There isn't a handicap in the world that could put you on the same playing field as this guy.  You are batting out of your league! Run!!!" 

But I couldn't budge.  I tried, but I was somehow momentarily glued to that bench – right up to the point where he was standing right in front of me.  I'm sure he was wondering why I was being so rude by not getting up to greet him.  I scurried up from the bench and gave him one of those awkward half hug greetings – enough for me to look over his shoulder and mouth "Oh my God," take a deep breath, and regain some kind of composure.  "It's great to see you," I uttered.  And into the botanical garden we went.  

After about 15 minutes of strolling through the gardens, we entered the building that houses all of the tropical plants.  We were chatting and strolling along when all of a sudden my heel became lodged between the cracks of a wooden bridge.  I tried to just keep walking, figuring the force would just pull it out, but I was out of luck.  I was stuck!  And I remember feeling like such a helpless, clumsy moron as I frantically blurted out, "Um, my foot is stuck!" 

Now, what happened next truly amazed me.  My ever-so-dashing date leaned down, told me to put my hand on his shoulder to stabilize myself to keep from falling, and he gently dislodged my heel from the bridge.  

I was in a momentary state of shock, mouth gaping wide open.  Most guys would have made a comment about me being a klutz and would have watched me struggle, but not this guy.  He unstuck my heel without uttering a word, and that was the end of it.  And to think I'd always been told that chivalry was dead!  As I stood there in wonderment, heart fluttering uncontrollably, I thought to myself, "Is this how Cinderella felt when the prince brought her back her lost shoe?"  Because the moment was definitely like something out of a fairy tale.  I mean, guys like this just didn't exist. 

As luck would have it, there was a second bridge in the tropical garden.  And, as I'm sure you've guessed, my stupid heel found its way into that crack, too.  But he recognized it immediately, dutifully leaned over again and freed me from the bridge.  Note to self: never wear heels to the Botanical Garden!

I decided that perhaps now was the perfect time to warn him that I'm a relatively clumsy person.  Probably not the best thing to mention on a first date, but I figured by now it was abundantly clear.  So I told him that I drove up over the curb when I parked the car.  "I know," he said, "I was parked right next to you and saw you do it."

OMG! 

He saw me smack the curb.  And he probably heard my, "Oh shit," since the top was down and I was kind of loud.  Better yet, he saw me get out of the car, bend over and look at the bumper, get up, shrug it off, and worst of all FLIP MY HAIR and walk away.  How freaking embarrassing.  I'm sure I turned ten shades of red right then and there - I wanted to crawl in a hole and die.

"Your bumper is fine – I wouldn't worry about it," he said.  And he left it at that. I couldn't tell if he found my clumsiness to be annoying or charming at this point – it was impossible to get a read off of him.  

We continued our stroll through the outdoor gardens, but the temperature was dropping and it was getting late.  And we'd pretty much scoured every corner of the place.  The thing is, I didn't want that date to end, but I didn't know if he felt the same way.  I mean, I'd sort of made an idiot out of myself between the bridges and the whole parking incident. 

He walked me to my car and we just stood there making small talk.  The entire time I kept asking myself, "Is there going to be a Part 2 to this date, or does the buck stop here?"  And after about 10 minutes of chit chatting, I couldn't wait anymore and I blurted out, "So, are you going to ask me to join you for dinner or not?"  STUPID! STUPID! STUPID!!!   What on earth was I doing?  Why did I always have to cut to the chase?  Give a guy a chance, crazy girl!

Honestly, he seemed a bit relieved.  The thing is, I'd apparently psyched myself out so much that I'd been giving him the 'I'm not that interested" vibe, when the reality was that I could have stood there all afternoon and into the night gazing into his big blue eyes.  And after we solidified our dinner plans, he leaned in and gave me the sweetest kiss.  And I was hooked!

Part 2: Dinner

He called me as I was walking toward the restaurant.  "Oh, I see you walking this way," he said.  And as I looked up, there he was.  20 feet in front of me.  Dressed head to toe in black (my favorite) and wearing a beautiful new Missoni coat that he'd just picked up on his trip back home.  He looked completely stunning.  I remember stopping for a second, jaw dropping slightly (God, I can make an idiot out of myself sometimes), and just looking at him from afar.  Then, as though a brick had been chucked at the side of my head to bring me back to reality, I snapped back to it and continued walking toward him.  

I greeted him with a kiss on the cheek and a hug.  God, did he smell good!  And the butterflies started coming back to my stomach.  "Oh, God, control yourself!" I told myself, thinking back to the number of times that a bad bout of verbal diarrhea had interfered with the success of a date.  But the "dating gods" were on my side on this particular evening, and I was able to control myself and maintain my composure.

Our table wasn't ready, so we took a walk through the Highlands and spent a little time browsing through the little boutiques.  That took some of the pressure off being seated immediately, and gave me a wonderful diversion – SHOPPING!!!  I still had that nervous energy, but it was starting to subside and I could feel myself finally calming down a little.  Thank God.

After about thirty minutes, we headed to the restaurant and were promptly seated in our booth.  And there he was – right in front of me.  And suddenly, I didn't feel as nervous anymore.  His eyes sparkled in the dim lights of the restaurant as he told me about his recent visit home.  He was interesting, intelligent, funny, and confident, and he had an incredible sense of style, was extremely attractive and sophisticated.  I wanted to know anything and everything about this man – I was completely intrigued.  And somehow I felt completely intoxicated even though I'd not yet ordered a drink.  

Time flew by, and before I knew it we'd finished dessert and it was time to go. And while I wasn't really ready to bid him goodnight, I knew it had been a long day for him having just returned from Europe the day before.  Fortunately, I'd parked on one of the neighborhood streets a few blocks away from the restaurant, which gave him the opportunity to walk me to my car. 

After a few minutes of small talk came that moment of truth – the goodnight kiss - the moment that you both anticipate and fear at the same time.  Would there be any chemistry?  Or would it just be another disappointing kiss? 

He leaned in toward me, and as our lips met I felt the most amazing sensation – I was enveloped by this incredible wave of euphoria.  It was as though we were standing still and the earth was spinning wildly out of control around us.  And that moment was absolutely amazing!  And despite the passing cars and pedestrians, we stood outside that car on that dimly lit street for a good thirty minutes.  And every kiss was more magical and ethereal than the first.  And it became clear to me that this wasn't a dream.  It wasn't a fairy tale, either.  It was a reality.  My reality. 

But the true reality was that it was getting very late and like all good things, the date had to come to an end.  I drove him back to the corner where his car was parked and he gave me one last kiss goodbye before stepping out of the car.  God, it was so hard to let him go.  I remember blowing him a kiss – he blew one right back to me – and I drove home. 

On the drive home that night the air seemed fresher, the sky appeared to be clearer, and the stars shone brighter than they had in a long time.  And I realized I was completely smitten.


 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Posted at 4/14/2008 5:45:37 pm by Nibs
(4) Have Been Clubbed

Thursday, November 08, 2007
one last update for november for all 3 of you who care

My free time this month is severely constricted due to my participation in NaNoWriMo (nano-wry-mo) which basically means that i have 30 days to complete a 50,000 word novella. www.nanowrimo.org

so far i'm in 8 days and have only completed 5500 words, marking me severely behind the recommended word count. plus i have to travel 2 weeks this month, straining my resources in the harshest way.

my novel sucks, don't even ask what it's about, and i am wondering how authors can pen the tales of main characters that they don't even like.  reading and criticizing is much more my game than authoring... but still i press on!!! i am going to win this fucking thing b/c it's about Quantity not Quality. i'll have december and january to re-write.

and yes, Big Time, i am single again and fucking don't ask me about it b/c i am super fucking heartbroken and totally bewildered about the whole deal and fighting stronger than ever to just get on with life and jump back on the proverbial horse and continue finding joy in living.  i was so happy and i still have to be so... but without the light i found in Beer Guy.

the beer guy dumped me unceremoniously on july 15.  we had spent so much time and so many laughs together and i still don't understand ANYTHING about it. the not knowing is rough.

he recently sent me the Meanest Email on Earth b/c i would occasionally email him.  yeah, i'm tough but yeah, it hurts. but you know what/??? i've just dodged a bullet. instead of spending a long amount of time in a relationship going nowhere (he calls his ex of 10 years "my wife,") i've been set free by an immature manipulator who was brave enough to let me go so that he could spend some more time examining his wounds and dealing with his own issues.  i miss him every day.  the truth is that i still love him. he made me so happy and every day was a joy from march through june... but that's not enough to build a life on so he's gone... and i only cry occasionally-- like today at the salon. i haven't had my hair cut since May-- when we were still together-- and today my stylist asked me if i was still with Michael.   she asked me this while shampooing my hair. 

and i felt the goddamn tears rolling into my ears with my head over the bowl. 

it was weird b/c she is the COOLEST and her b-day is Aug 27 (mine is Aug 28).  her husband's b-day is April 30, (beer guy's was May 1). we used to comment how our signs just 'meshed' and Virgo and Taurus get along swimmingly.

so now we had to go over why the zodiac didn't work for me.

and i let her chop my hair shorter than it should be.

I'm considering going red.

i brave on, and i'll talk to you all in december.   Andrew, Dirty Martini, Melly-- love ya.



Posted at 11/8/2007 5:49:53 pm by gak
(6) Have Been Clubbed

Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Catty and Superficial -- Celebs I Can't Stand

(in no particular order)

Sandra Bullock
Ted Danson
Al Sharpton
Whoopi Goldberg
the parents on 90210
Jennifer Love Hewitt
Julia Stiles
Kyra Sedgwick
Wilmer Valderrama
Jerry Mathers
Kate Hudson
Jennifer Grey's new nose
Oprah's friend Gayle
Michael Douglas
Denise Richards
Nancy Pelosi
Paris Hilton-- DUH

I used to have some others on the list but I've taken them back.  Example: Kirstie Alley used to really annoy me in the Pier 1 commercials but since they dropped her she's ok again.

What are some others?  I know this is negative so let's add a few "Celebs I Love."
Parker Posey
Dolly Parton
Lindsay Lohan
Mary Louise Parker
Megan Follows
Olivia Newton-John
Ann Curry
Eliot on Scrubs
Colin Firth
Katharine Hepburn

Sometimes loving or hating celebrities is all you have to hold onto...


Posted at 10/17/2007 11:00:17 am by gak
(4) Have Been Clubbed

Tuesday, October 16, 2007
tappity tap tap

well i just got back from my first tap dancing class at a new studio.  for the past 2 weeks i had been taking at a super crappy place (in an old run down POST OFFICE) whose idea of tap dance is hoofing it to Beyonce.   Seriously. I was astonished that to attract a more urban crowd the teacher put on music that did NOT work with tap... but of course it was quite funny b/c when we registered (me and a friend Amy from work) we asked the desk-girl, "What's the makeup of the class like?" and she said, "Oh it's very diverse."  We were excited, thinking that we weren't going to be the old farts in class and said, "Awesome! So there are lots of different ages here?" and she said back, "Well, you two are the reason it's diverse."

hahaha.  so that meant we were the old farts in class.

anyway, i'm not the old fart in the new class... there are two ladies in their 50s, me, and then 5 other girls about 13-16 years old.  am i crazy that i like to talk to the teens more than the older ladies? 

i sweated my ass off and was told that my appearance in the recital is optional. thank god!!!  it sounds a lot like Dive Club.  The only difference is i couldn't really talk about Dive Club... but Tap Club i'm going to gush about.

p.s. tonight before class i was filling up with overpriced gas and a woman with a hickey the size of a COASTER asked me for $2.00.  she said "we've gotta get home. Please!!" and so i bought the meth-head $2.50 worth of gas.  i'm a dumbass but at least i knew they couldn't sell the gas from the pump for crystal.  guess i was trying to give humanity the benefit of the doubt.  i'm stupid.



Posted at 10/16/2007 9:02:36 pm by gak
(2) Have Been Clubbed

Sunday, October 14, 2007
A New Start

Last week i noticed something strange and beautiful on my back deck. Can you guess what it is?



I googled the hell out of "green +gold +insect +sac" and after sifting through about 20 pest control companies in Sacramento, found out that it's a MONARCH CHRYSALIS!

i watched her every day... amazed at the life growing on my shitty usually-indoor palm tree...  and by Friday night had realized she was darkening... you could see the wings forming...





By Friday night/ Saturday early AM I was ecstatic... took my flashlight out for a quick photo but apparently i don't know how to properly use my camera. Next time, SWF I will defer to your photographic genius instead of fumbling for my Canon Power Shot alone!!


Anyway, by Saturday morning at 8 am I had already missed the struggle to emerge from the chrysalis. But i was nonetheless awe-stricken with the beauty of new life before me.






It was one of the most amazing experiences I've had... watching this brave creature cling to a discarded houseplant and grow strong... 

Plus, now she's on her way to MEXICO! 

Have a margarita for me, baby.


Posted at 10/14/2007 6:01:37 pm by gak
(3) Have Been Clubbed

Monday, April 16, 2007
Sleepless in Atlanta

I found myself wide awake until 3 AM this Saturday morning.  Guess it was all those Irish Coffees?  Whatever the cause, I came up with what SEEMED like a briiliant idea at the time: email matchketeers. 

BIG MISTAKE.

Turns out "the filter" doesn't exist when I'm schnockered up at 3 AM.  For example, my reply to a matcher asking me about my experience showing a pig and also if I'd ever been engaged:

There's a reason you never saw attractive people showing hogs – it's because we cheat the system and exhibit the hogs differently.  Mine was entered in the carcass class, so it was judged on its lean content.  Basically, you ship it to slaughter, they slice it down the middle, and measure the fat.  So you never have to wear the stupid outfit, or carry the stick, or teach the pig to walk.  And then the buyer gets to see exactly what they're getting at auction.  It's pretty wild – the split hog hangs in the freezer trailer with a glass front for display. 

 And that's all I have to say about that.  The farm life was fun, and I'm glad I had the opportunity, but for now I'm much happier in the city.  

So, you asked if I'd ever been engaged before.  I was formally engaged in college.  I think it was junior year or so.  We'd dated since HS graduation, and it seemed like the next logical step.  The problem was that I had also just bought a new show horse – and it wasn't just any old show horse.  This was the "once in a lifetime" horse that I'd planned to campaign nationally – a dream I'd had since I was a little girl.  It meant a lot of training, a lot of travel, and a lot of missed classes (oh shucks).  I was also working three jobs to finance this project.  After one month, my fiancé started complaining that I wasn't spending enough time with him.  The complaining grew from simple whining to demands that I spend more time with him and less time with the horse.  The next thing he said was that I loved the horse more than him.  I remember looking at him, then looking at the horse, and then looking back at him and saying, "You're right.  I've loved horses since I was 4.  I've loved you since I was 17.  I've loved the horses longer…"  

Long story short, after another week or so of "negotiations," I gave the ring back.  It was the smart thing to do, too, because I ended up winning the national championships that year, so it paid off.  And trust me when I say I lasted longer with that horse than I ever would have lasted with the fiancé (sadly, I had to euthanize my horse a few years back due to an injury).  

I had another informal offer right around when I got the Atlanta job.  I'd been dating a guy for 3 years or so, and was offered a position in Atlanta as a software trainer.  It meant I'd get to travel all over, and it was an offer I couldn't refuse.  My boyfriend at the time told me that if I stayed, he'd make sure I got the house with the white picket fence and the daisies out front.  But the truth is, I've never been a white picket fence person, and the opportunity to travel the world just seemed like a better offer.  Besides, I was 24 at the time, and I just felt like I had too much to accomplish on my own before I even started to think about settling down.

So that's how a 34 year old woman ends up still being single.  People ask me that all the time.  It's a choice.  I just never felt like I could settle down before I'd traveled, accomplished a few key goals, and figured out what I didn't want out of life (I leave what I want open to new experiences, etc..).  Hopefully that set aside some fears you might have had of my spinsterhood.  We singletons in our mid 30's are often treated as though we have leprosy – it's quite odd.  But I guess we have that good old biological clock working against us…

And my rather run-on email to a guy who lives in the building next to me.  He was going to Napa to visit his nephews.  I pray I never meet him on the sidewalk:

Uncle Bobby,

 

I had an Uncle Bob growing up.  I guess I had a speech impediment, too, because I apparently called him Uncle Beebop.  Or maybe I just thought that name was more hip – he did drive a white microbus with a shag interior, after all.

 

Now about this minivan thing.  Sure, there's the whole minivan metaphor, but I think there's more to it than the fact that the DHW (Dunwoody House Wife) and ATW (Alpharetta Trophy Wife) drive them.  Let's face it – minivans are just plain ugly.  So are station wagons.  And even uglier are these "hybrid" station wagon/SUV things that are shaped like shoes.  I can't even believe there is even a market for these shitmobiles.  Worse yet are the Scion xB and the Honda Element.  Generation Y or Z or Me or whatever they call themselves these days as they drive around in their hearse-mobile are clearly devoid of any sense, style or class.

 

Whew!  I'm feeling rather blunt today.

 

It's finally starting to warm up, thank GOD.  Gore can take his global warming DVD and shove it up his ass.  It snowed in Midtown on Easter Sunday, for chrissakes!  But at least I think I can FINALLY store the black boots for the summer (and no, fantasyboy, they are not over-the-knee boots – that would be tacky).  Everyone knows that you can only pull that look off if you're 5'7" or taller.  I generally try to dress nicely for work – but one company's definition of nice is another company's casual Friday.  Let's put it this way – the guys in client services generally wear Birkenstocks and cargo shorts, and I've seen the AR girls in off-the-shoulder tops and boob tubes.  And to think my coworker and I got busted for wearing shirts that were "too low cut" all while we were wearing suits?  BIZARRE.  But I'm sidetracked.  Men have it easy – just wear nice slacks and a button up shirt or a nice sweater.  But women – we have this whole cleavage thing to worry about. 

 

I think one of these days I'm going to have to drag you down to Toast and force you to drink cheapass $4 margaritas.  I'll spare you the peach ones – that would be gay.   Speaking of gay, the model for Viewpoint (in the front window of your building) shows a rainbow dot-like detail at the top of its pseudo-spire.  Do you think the final design will REALLY be a rainbow?  A beacon of light standing on the former site of Backstreet,(former infamous gay club in Atlanta) calling all of its queens home???  It would be ironic…

 

On a more serious note – about this Imus amputation thing.  My grandfather has had both of his limbs amputated.  But Imus has more to worry about these days than amputee veterans.  This whole nappy haired ho thing honestly makes my blood boil.  Why can rap artists, male and female alike, use the n-word in songs and it's okay, but as soon as a cracker tries to speak up, it's racist?  I have no patience for double standards.  And that's all I'm gonna say about that.  At least for now.

 

Although I did see a panhandler at the corner of Williams Street and 14th this morning who did bear a striking resemblance to Imus…

 

As for church – I've heard of Northpoint, but I don't do that "Six Flags Over Jesus" crap.  I fear the megachurch (although I hear some of them have Starbucks).  

 

So, how's the visit to Napa going?  I really think you and your family should try and find the time to play Mexican Bingo – Loteria.  It's pretty entertaining, and you can use it to learn Spanish.  Then the twins can spout out El Diablo! And El Diablo Pequeno!  and annoying stuff like that.  Well, maybe not this year – they are only one.  Do one year olds even talk?  I'm so outta the loop on that.  I'm assuming that they are at that stage where they can bump into things, like the coffee table edge?  And to have two of them?  Aye carumba!  

 

Ahhhh, at least there should be plenty of wine handy…

 And this, my friends, is why Nibsie is STILL single!  ARGH!!!  Take my laptop away when I'm el drunko!!!


Posted at 4/16/2007 10:03:38 pm by Nibs
(5) Have Been Clubbed

Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Time Stopped

You know how in the movie "Big Fish" they say that when you meet the love of your life, time stops?  Well, I never believed it for a second.  Sounded like a load of crap if you ask me.  I just never met anyone who was all that remarkable.  Or at least not to me.

Sure, I've met men who make me tongue-tied, or fidgety-nervous, or whom has given me nearly fatal cases of verbal diarrhea.  But time never stopped.  And I always wondered if there was something wrong with me.

 So, two weeks ago I found myself out on Disaster Date #188.  And somewhere between the watermelon martinis, the Dos Equis XX, and the drama, I texted an xBF – Mr. Big. 

 

My message was simple but straightforward: "I think this life is killing me."

 

Of course I received a dutiful response asking what was going on.  I was, at that moment, asking myself why I'd texted him in the first place.  For starters, it was a moment of complete weakness, I admit.  But I also remember thinking at that moment – between all the drama - that it would be helpful to go to my "happy place." And at that particular moment in time, HE was my happy place.

 

About a week later, he explained that he'd be in Atlanta for work, and asked me if I'd like to go to dinner.  I figured it wouldn't hurt – it was just dinner with an old friend, right?  So, I agreed to pick him up at the airport. 

 

He'd indicated that he'd be at Vestibule S2, and I made my way through the arrivals lane.  I was stuck behind a red minivan and couldn't see to the curb.  I slowly inched forward, and glanced to the right.  Suddenly, everything felt like it was happening in slow motion, and as I raised my eyes up toward the people standing on the curb, I spotted him immediately. 

 

And time stopped.

 

And after what seemed like the longest of pauses, he got into the car and we headed to Midtown.  I  brought him by my place to check out Zoe – he'd been with me when I first met her at the greyhound track, and I wanted him to see how well she'd settled into her life as a Midtown Hound. 

 

From there, we went to dinner at Bacchanalia.  Fabulous place – if you're ever in Atlanta, I highly recommend that you check it out.  But even more wonderful than the haute gastronomy was my company.  And as we talked about old friends, horses, situations, and life in general, I just couldn't help but notice just how good he looked.  In fact, he looked healthy, relaxed, and dare I say "happy."  And I was happy.  Happy for him – happy to be spending an evening with him. 

 

But this story doesn't have a storybook ending. 

 

In Big Fish, Ed Bloom gets the girl.  But in my life, I don't get to have the guy.  Because when it comes to the lapse in time – I think I'm the only one that noticed it.  And I'm pretty sure that I'm the only one whose heart pitter pattered the moment he sat in my car. 

 

And appropriately enough, on the ride back to my condo I heard the most fitting Johnny Cash song:  "It ain't me babe, no no no  - it ain't me you're lookin' for, babe." 

 

And now time just drags by. 


Posted at 4/11/2007 6:13:01 am by Nibs
(4) Have Been Clubbed

Wednesday, March 28, 2007
too damn happy

i barely know what to do when i'm so happy that posting about it seems like a dare.

last time i gushed over a guy i had my heart snapped!  of course it was a blessing b/c now i'm with the Beer Guy and things are sprouting up all over the place.  good green things that come out of rich soil.  soil that (i assume) was nourished by the decomposition of past relationships.

maybe poop and dead things are what really give life to new beginnings!

we're going on a mini-break together for 3 days. we leave tomorrow.  don't really have much planned, except that road hummers are off limits.  i don't want to die with a dick in my mouth and the back of my head crushed by a steering wheel. 

will report more when i return and i'll try to find the happy place between sheer joy and sheer vulnerability... but does such a branch even exist on the tree of relationships??

Posted at 3/28/2007 10:40:55 pm by gak
(3) Have Been Clubbed

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