Change of heart

Five, even three years ago, my ideal boyfriend would have been a rebel; like Paul in the Beatles: not too wild, but wild enough to make a girl scream. Today, my tastes have changed. I prefer more of a Ringo or a George to that of a John or a Paul. Experience has taught me that those are the keepers. Those are the ones to fall in love with.

p.s. Ben unhooked his computer today. I am a dork, but somehow I feel deserted, abandoned by this event. I know it should really make no difference to me, he's on Washington, I'm in California, and he is going to Florida... I will still be in California. It's the "one that got away" syndrome, I guess. And I won't even get to see him as he passes through San Diego because, ironically, I'll be in Florida, his destination where he will arrive just as I am leaving. Also, I lied when I posted my favorite memory of him on his myspace. I told him that it was of us watching Abre Los Ojos, and that's true, but I left out the magic of that night: when he leaned me against the wall and asked if he could kiss me and then he did and after that he picked me up and carried me to my bed. It made me swoon... and it still does.

Sometimes I feel restless. It started a week ago with a headache, one that causes me to not want to move, and it is that paralyzed that led to the restlessness. I need to do the dishes, I have a headache. I need to write a paper on the Windows XP plug and play features, I have a headache. I can't even watch my TiVo and Charles Osgood's voice makes me nauseous. I want to take a bath, but I took one two days ago and didn't wash out the bath oils afterwards so now there is a ring around the tub that I would have to wash before taking another bath, and I have a headache. The Excedrine Migraine I took one hour ago isn't helping, the 64 ounces of water I've ingested, the essential oils applied to pressure points, none have helped. I bought some wine at the commissary, buy six, get 10% off (what a deal), and that helps, but only for an hour or so. I need some distraction.
I went for a walk after church today, I walked past the Princess Pub on the corner of Date and India, there were groups of friends enjoying breakfast and bloody mary's. I walked past a family of Italian-American's having coffee at the coffee place next to Vincenzo's, the father alerted his son of my presence in Italian, the son said good morning. I went to the art supply store and looked at all the pieces of paper they had for sale. So many colors, textures. I asked a lady who was also looking at them what they were for, she didn't know. I went to the chocolate shop to buy a bar that was 99% pure but they were out. I got a mocha instead. I went to Mona Lisa's and bought a sandwich. I took a nap, I still have a headache.

God bless gay men.

This evening, I decided to stop into a little place called Bath and Body Works, just to browse. Within minutes of me setting foot in the store a little guy came over and asked if I was finding everything alright. I said that I was, and he immediately let out a tiny squeal and said, "Oh my God, you are so cute, I love your hair!" I was, of course, flattered. In fact, before I left the house earlier that evening I was most self conscious about my hair. This compliment from a complete stranger was enough to make my evening.
After I completed my transaction at the store, the same little guy met me at the door to wish me a good evening. "Have a good night, thank you for shopping at Bath and Body Works! Oh my God, I love your bag! And your jacket is so great, you are so cute!"
I haven't had that many compliments in such a short amount of time ever. Thanks Bath and Body Works!!!!

Thanks a lot

LOST is the pinnacle of my week. I set my TiVo to record tonight's episode which started at 9, and at quarter 'til, while blowdrying my hair, my breaker tripped and so did the fucking TiVo. It took me one minute to flip the breaker switch, but that damn TiVo took half a hour to start back up and that is half an episode LOST>

The ones that got away

When I think back on my "love life" what stands out the most, beside the very obvious heartbreaks, are the ones who got away. These were the men who, in retrospect, could have been "the one" if only one of us would have given just an inch or two more to the relationship. I can tell you truthfully that it has always been the retrospective loves that I miss the most. These men were inevitably "just my friends" and I guess I was waiting for the grand gesture, the gesture that I never got from my boyfriends, the gesture I am still waiting for. Perhaps those men were waiting for a grand gesture from me, although I am historically vulnerable/submissive/a doormat in my relationships. Contrary to popular belief, I don't want to wear the pants.
This retrospective love life of mine seems to be the pattern from which I cut all of my male relationships. I crave attention that I know I can't have. Freud would say that I never got attention from my father. He would be right, but to be fair, I am an glutton for male attention. Ask any of my female friends (the few I have) and they will tell you I am the worst when it comes to men. The real question, the one I am trying to discover along with its answer, is what do I do about it?
I guess my first instinct, one that has been overwhelming me since I broke up with Crush, is to find one of these restrospective loves and make happen what never did not initially. I tried it with Marc, it didn't work. I've even considered contacting some of the guys who I was "just friends" with and trying to spark an interest. The bottom line is that desperation is an ugly, ugly thing and right now it has a hold of me. Another underscore (I guess, the final bottom line) is that the Navy is not relationship conducive. All the retrospective loves, potential rekindles, etc. do not live anywhere near me. Some are in the Pacific NorthWest, some are in Japan, some are in... I don't know. I just need to resign myself to the fact that I am terrible at relationships, I will never have a meaningful, fulfilling relationship with a man that is truly good and who brings out the best in me, and I should just stop trying. I've already started going to pet stores in search of the first of what's sure to be MANY cats, and when the time is right I know that the Goodwill will have the the perfect cardigan waiting for me to purchase.

on the corner

it has always been my fear, when standing on a street corner, that passers-by will think that I am a hooker. I mean, I don't dress like a hooker, I don't even wear blush or tease my hair! Well, this Sunday, that fear was realized, when on my way back from church (of all places) I was waiting on a corner for a light to change and a truck full of yokels sped past, the passenger leaned out the window and yelled, "how much?"
I still had the program from church in my hand, the cross from Our Lady of the Rosary clearly visable. I was wearing black slacks and a grey sweater. Nothing about me said hooker.
The first thing that came to mind was what kind of hellfire God had in store for a dumbass like that guy. Who looks for hookers at noon on a Sunday? My faith in humanity is slowly, but surely deteriorating.

ode

I miss Ashley. I wish she would leave her little boyfriend and move to California with me. Who wants to live in rainy, old, Oregon anyway? California is warm, sunny, even in January. And I miss you, Ashley. Don't forget about me, OK?

cable.

Today the cable company demanded that I go down to their office and show my ID before they would start my cable/internet service. I went there and started crying uncontrollably. All the people waiting in line were sad, poor looking people. Nobody had brushed hair, the air smelled like a bar smells in the morning, a mixture of stale smoke and shattered dreams. I must be one of those people. The cable company put me in their category. I am now a marked woman, my destiny determined by a database somewhere.