How A Woman Works.

Michelangelo once said "A man paints with his brains, not with his hands." I have the privilege and the burden of being a woman who paints with my heart.
The vacation I was so frivolously offered by Mr. X never came to thruition, and I'm probably better for it. Deep down I don't think we were meant to be more than friends, if we're even meant to be that, as circumstances currently are. It's hard to make someone understand why you're upset when their brain does not function with the sensitivity and capacity as your own. I think men are simple in their brain functions. I don't mean that they are simple headed, though some are. I believe that emotionally their skills of reasoning are completely different than that of women. Mr. X is convinced that the reason I am upset is because I was offered time with him, which I was, twice during this fiasco, and I was denied both opportunities. So, in his eyes, I am throwing a bitchfit because I didn't get to see him, although he had pretty valid reasons for not being able to come out. Makes me sound like a total bitch, doesn't it?
But I'm not a bitch. Well, at least not according to me. Some of my ex boyfriends might disagree with me. In this situation I changed my entire schedule, that of all of my employees, and two other salons in order to get that time off at a moment's notice. I had to plead with my director of operations about what a great opportunity the workshop was in order for her to agree to it. It was days of work to be able to get the time, as well as a lot of inconvenience of others for me to go, only for it to fall through. And even that I understood. His father was ill, and family comes first. I of all people understand that.
I was confused. All of a sudden this close friend, part of my heart, someone I talked to for hours every night, who comforted me, and didn't judge me, had put out an offer that confused me. It changed the properties of our friendship, I was in unchartered territory, and it scared me. In my teens and twenties, I would've just covered it up, ignored it, or dreamed about happy endings. I'm not that girl any more. In my thirties, if something scares me, I go to the source. I went to him with my confusion, and was put off. He was too busy talking to a girl that he has no interest in. It stung. When he finally spared a few moments to chat with me, my issues were acknowledged, and then ignored. It was cruel. I may as well have told him that I had gotten a splinter while filing my nails. It seemed like an everyday inconvenience as opposed to an amazing, funny, intelligent and caring friend saying that she was confused with feelings.
So, I got incredibly frustrated, made sure he knew it, and then we didn't talk for days. I ended up contacting him for something that I needed advice with, and we tried to talk about our friendship at that point, at which he finally acknowledged that he may have wanted to see how things would be with me, too. Then the offer for him to come out here for a few days during this now impromptu vacation was made. I told him what my plans were, including getting away to the coast for a couple of days, even if it was on my own. I was planning on going during the weekdays, for solitude, and for financial convenience. He told me that if he was to come out it would be Thursday-Sunday most likely. I asked him to let me know, because, again, my plans now revolved around him. Needless to say, he didn't come out, and I did not get to go to the coast, by myself or otherwise. Rather than speaking with his family as soon as possible in order to give me the consideration of an early answer so that I could plan this week I had off with no plans (thanks to him), he waited to tell me until it was too late for me to get a booking at the place I was interested in going by myself.
And this is why I'm aggravated. In so much of this situation he influenced my time and energy, and not for the best, and then made it sound like I'm just whiny because he's not here. He can stay in New York and shit in his pants for all I care. Friends don't treat each other like this. It's not only the waste of time that gets me, but the self righteous slap in the face, not acknowledging that he has done anything thoughtless and that I am just a bawling child that doesn't get to play with her toy.
If he can't understand this, as it has been explained to him several times, he never will, and I'm sick of spending time with men that make me feel stupid and shitty because it is convenient for them.
During my time off, I have been able to do a lot of things I normally don't get to do because of my hectic schedule. Today I went to the Seattle Art Museum. When there, in the Ancient Greek exhibit, I noticed a small replica of one of the sculptured women that make the columns that held up the biggest buildings in Greek antiquity. Beautiful women bore the weight of the world in those days. And today, in this time of single parent households, women working full time, as well as making a home and building a family, or fretting against bills, family ills, and infertility, it seems we still hold the weight of the world. This crap from men that can't pull their head out of their ass to acknowledge how blessed they are to have such amazing women in their lives is just another burden that we no longer need. At this point in my life, I want men in my life that don't need to be persuaded to acknowledge that I'm a good person, and that I'm a catch. I don't want men around me that point out things they feel are negative about me, like being a vegetarian, or a feminist, or that I stand up for myself when hurt or upset. I don't want someone that will only deal with things in their manner, not acknowledging that the way I deal is just as important to our equation. I want someone that will fight for me, even if it is fighting with me. Someone with balls and initiative, that can ask me out and pursue a future, yet who will respect me, my feminity, my strength, and my heart.
 Mr. X, I wish you luck in your journey to find a woman. It might help if you truly listen to what they are saying first.

How Did Carrie Do It?

In Sex And The City, week after week we watched as Carrie Bradshaw hung her love life out on the public clothesline in New York. This is fine and dandy until you think of the logistics of that. In one episode they showed Alexandr Petrovsky quoting one of her articles, and, of course, the peeing politician mentioned that his people had issues with his personal life being displayed, but there's not much mention of anyone else she dated reading them at the time she was dealing with them. How does one write publically about the juicy stuff in one's life without having the writing of it influence the outcome? It almost seems like Mr. Big was completely oblivious to the articles, or just didn't care enough to read them, otherwise how would he not have split with her neurotic drama from early on? I mean, c'mon! Carrie is already a bit irritating! Having her write all of your intimate details for New York to fawn over, why deal with it? I ponder these things, hoping that I am a bit more endearing, and that the men in my life will continue to put up with me, even if I write about them.
A few weeks ago, when I tested a theory I had of my ability to write well while becoming intoxicated, which I failed miserably, I introduced Mr. X.
And now I sit, staring at the screen, not knowing where to go from here. Whatever thoughts and feelings I put down may be taken wrong by a few parties concerned. In my quest for a healthy way of dealing with relationships and honesty with myself, I have decided to forge the breach, if only I could figure out how.
Mr. X is one of my closest, dearest friends. He is a man that I met years ago on one of the dating sites I was on, one that was based on being of the same culture. We got along well from the start, but lived across the country from each other. Neither of us was willing to consider moving, a dealbreaker we figured out early on. As we respected each other, and got along so well, we kept in touch as friends. When I was last in New York, we had the chance to meet in person, and had a great, although fast and furious time at the MoMA. The outing left me knowing that he was an absolutely amazing single Greek man. I had found the Holy Grail. As Greek women are bound to do, I decided to try and match him up with one of my best friends, Persephone.
Persie is an amazing artist, adorable, and absolutely willing to move. She also has an impetuous desire for fun and adventure, and does not have the best judgement when she's drunk. Persie and Mr. X get along really well, though there is a comfort level that he and I have obtained that they haven't quite come to yet. It also turns out that I'm not that great of a matchmaker. Persie and Mr. X are not a match primarily for logistical reasons. Mr. X is needing his bride to be previously unmarried, while Persie has been divorced. Though it seems like an unusual requirement in this day and age, the reason for it, I assure you, is a good one. At this point, though, I fear that Persie has developed strong feelings for him. I can't blame her, he's amazing. Who wouldn't? And he, being the definition of extraordinary, completely cares for her heart, and her soul, just as he does for mine, and anyone lucky enough to come into contact with him.
Being one of my closest friends, he's been privy to the rollercoaster that is my dating life. He knows my blunders and my men troubles. And he's sat there, with a strong shoulder, not judging, but nudging me to do the right things.
Knowing about my recent breakups and hardships, Mr. X recently invited me to join him on a trip for a painting workshop, an interest we both are passionate about. Ever the gentleman, he offered to take care of me, just so that we both could get away and have a good time together. And no matter how I try and write about it, and make a point of how great a friend he is, it becomes clear that this gesture of friendship really touched my heart, differently than anyone has. It's not that he offered to help pay. While most women thrive on the thought that men value them enough to pay for them, I have a hard time with it. I don't want to be bought. This way there is no doubt why I value someone.
Something about the invitation from Mr. X brought tears to my eyes. I'm a spunky, independent, brassy, strong woman. Most guys I date either want to make me vulnerable, or need someone to take care of them. Mr. X, on the other hand, wanted to share an experience he is passionate about with me, and was willing to go to long lengths to do so. He wanted to take care of me to keep me strong, not to make me weak. And this is where writing publically scares me, because I have to admit that the one grand gesture of friendship has sparked feelings that I have been fighting for a long time. I've had to recognize that in my realm of friends, there has been a true, honest, loving man that I have been pushing away for fear of leaving the nest and building a life of my own. And now I'm in an awkward place, between my friendship, and these fledgeling feelings that I hope subside somehow. Mr. X has his world that he is living in, and is trying to find a match in that world, and I am confused, alone, and probably just in a weird spot, trying not to read anything into a very generous offer of kindness.
There is a possibility that I may be able to see him in person again the week after next, if the stars align, the muffins rise, Lindsay Lohan stays sober, whatever. If that happens, I'm sure that everything will be as normal, and our friendship will override whatever awkward emotions this whole thing has brought to light. Because if things remain confusing, then I have to figure out how the hell I'm supposed to talk to Persephone about all of this, when I haven't even been able to tell her about the initial invitation in the first place.

Fresh Blood

With my track record for continuously re-dating the same shmoes, wasting years in a vicious cycle of redoing relationships that are going nowhere, I decided that I needed to go on the hunt for some fresh meat. I've stated before that I'm not a big believer in dating websites. I really am not, but in this situation, where I desperately needed some new blood, I decided to give the little faces in boxes a go again.
I reactivated one of my old accounts, and perused the menu of available options. There were a few fishy looking old guys, a couple of meaty beefcakes, some indigestibly geeky brainmuffins, and countless boring, bland, tasteless bread baskets with no butter in sight. I managed to find two appetizing items that looked like something I might want to sink my teeth into. One of them had a sweet sincere smile, dark good looks, and a simple honest profile, like a plate of my favorite seasoned vegetables (saying a lot, coming from a vegetarian). The other looked like a decadent, rich, creamy, chocolatey dessert. Something that I probably shouldn't be considering because it would inevitably end up on my hips and ass, and would probably be difficult to get rid of when I rue the decision for ever biting into it in the first place.
Deep down, I really do want a healthy relationship with a good person, so I contacted option number one, and within about a week, we went out. He is adorable, just as beautiful as his pictures showed, with an extremely sweet smile, deep brown eyes, and a quirky little scar on his forehead. He showed up a few minutes late, but was extremely apologetic, and explained why. When the server came, he ordered an appetizer, though we were initially only out for drinks. To my surprise, I found out that he is a vegetarian as well. This occurrence baffled me. The only male vegetarians I knew were either granolas, gay, or obnoxious. An attractive, down to earth, male vegetarian seemed about as common as finding big foot riding on a unicorn by a kettle of gold. But I found one. We shared two appetizers and split a dessert - which he more than happily persuaded me to select. We shared some fun stories about ourselves, and overall had a great time. We walked out to the parking lot together, and parted ways to our own vehicles. One of the better dates I've had in a long time, though I wasn't sure how much chemistry we have towards a relationship, I am most definitely up to seeing him again to figure it out.
And then there are my inner cravings. They can be too much to bear at times. I contacted option number two. Almost three weeks later, we were able to meet in person. I drove 45 minutes to meet him in Tacoma, because he lives near Olympia. I had found some fun date ideas to do out there and decided to use one of them. I was coming straight from work, and was famished. I let him know that I would need to eat something, so to plan on catching some food out there. Once out there, I got word from him that he was running late. A few text messages and an hour later, he showed up. I had patiently sat, sipping my beer, waiting to order until he got there. That's when he told me that one of his friends had barbecued, and that he grabbed some chicken on his way over. So he watched me eat. While he watched me eat my dinner, he mentioned that his friend was having a party that evening, and invited me to it. He also mentioned that another friend was DJing at a nearby club, and invited me there. He wasn't obnoxious about it, never suggesting we immediately leave what were doing to do these other options, but moreso that we could do that as well. When I had eaten enough under his watchful eyes, it was time for the bill. I wasn't planning on letting him pay for me, because I'm a pretty big believer in going dutch on blind/singles site dates. Since he didn't eat anything, I felt weird about making a point of splitting the bill, so I just paid for the whole thing. He seemed fine with this, and then stated that he had the tip, for which he under tipped the server by quite a bit. We then left the bar for the arcade that I wanted to go to. I hadn't told him where we were headed, expecting any male to have the same reaction that I would if someone surprisingly took me to an arcade on a date: I would immediately adore them. We walked around, and he made a bee line to the bathroom (his third john visit of the hour, plus one trip to his vehicle to make sure that he paid for parking). It was a bit of a red flag, though I wasn't sure why. I got some quarters, and we played a few games, and he patronized my efforts, though he definitely wasn't as excited to play Pac Man, old school Mario Bros, and Frogger as I was.  We did actually have some fun in the arcade - it wasn't horrible, but obviously it wasn't the greatest date I've ever been on, either. I can't fault him as of yet because some of the icky stuff can be circumstantial. He did buy my beer at the arcade, and possibly would have figured something about the bill at the bar if it wasn't such an awkward situation - part of which was due to his inconsideration. I think the thing that stands out the most was one tiny little instance at the arcade. I could tell he found me attractive while we were sipping bears and talking at the bar, but I was surprised while walking through the arcade, I turned around to say something to him and caught him looking at me so salaciously that it felt like he should have had my consent or something before looking at me that way. He eye raped me.
When I was ready to head home, he walked me to my car - the first man to do that on a first date with me in a long while, and then he kissed me. Even after the lukewarm aspects of the date, his kiss was really nice. I may consider a second date with him because we did have chemistry, and I want to see if some of the snafus were just that: snafus.
It's always at this point that I want to find a good sized stick, and smack myself over the head with it repeatedly. I think that chemistry is making me stupid. I'm not more interested in option number two, obviously, though I may be more attracted to him, even if option number one is more beautiful, kind, sincere, and thoughtful. I may need to readjust my appetite just a little bit. If anyone knows of healthy options menu of men for me to select from, please send it my way!