Whine, Whine, Wine!

What's that sound? The one where kids breathe in at the back of their throat and then they swallow air and make a rounded, muffled clicking, like imitating a bull frog, and then they do it again and again, like a record is skipping in their throat? Um…yeah. Noisy-throat-guy made that sound for an hour straight today. We're not friends anymore, him and me. I can’t listen to a bullfrog all day.

I don't care how interesting he is and how much he sweet talks his girl/maybe-its-a-guy baby. He's like a dripping faucet when you are trying to sleep. No, he’s worse. He makes me want to jump through that damn office window that is not mine, for real, even if it is on the first floor.

Plus, I am starting to hate the word "throat" because of writing about him and his throat sounds. That’s probably my fault, for not knowing another word for throat and being too lazy to be creative about describing his throat sounds, but I am going to blame hating the word on him anyway.

Oh, and that thing, that more than 50% of the people in this new office building do, where, rather than carrying on with their business and walking on to wherever they are headed to next in their office duties, they stand there and wait to see who is about to come in through the office door (you can hear on the inside of the office when the code for the security office door is being punched from the outside), and then, and only then (after they've waited, stared, saw who it was) do they proceed forth, yeah, it's getting old.

Do I want people to know every time I have come back from going pee, or from somewhere else? No. Do they need to stand there, gawk, just to see who is coming in? No, again. Bored, lame, nosy people. Get on with your lives.

Working in an office...still not for me. (I’m breathing through my nose now with my lips pursed realizing I need to realign my energy and get back to the acceptance that I need to work to support my life. But, there is still Mexico.) But here I am. My back still hurts, my office chair still sucks, and while I still don’t want to show up anywhere where I have to wear a bra every day, I’m also still too chicken shit to move to Mexico.

Am I whining? Should I just be grateful that I have a job in these hard economical times? Yes and yes. Do I need more wine? Hell YES!

I think I am going to go become an alcoholic now. It's the most inevitable conclusion to how I am feeling in this moment.

But, am I done with my whine? Let’s insert “no” here, too.

First whine: I've decided, and I think I am about 70% on this, that I am going to end things with Watt. I've got the conversation I am going to have with him all worked out. For strategic I-don’t-want-to-get-all-jacked-up-before-a-meeting-w/-the-big-boss tomorrow morning reasons, I am going to avoid his call tonight, then avoid his call tomorrow night (for just-screw-you,-my-feelings-are-hurt-when-I-don’t-hear-from-you-for-days reasons), and I am going to avoid any of his subsequent texts, that is if he even calls or texts.

The problem? The F'er didn't even bother to call or text me that he was home from his camping trip. Technically the last time he contacted me was, to date, one day short of a week ago. It was a text letting me know what a wonderful time he had with me the night before. Then, a day later, I texted him something to the effect of: Not sure when you are going on your camping trip, but have fun… (Blah, blah, blah). He texted back. He was sick. Sick as death, he said. I gave him the standard sleep eat lots of garlic advice I give everyone. End of texts that night.

A day or two later, well, a me-buzzed-night or so later, I texted: How are you? Feeling better?

How was he? He was fine. He was on his camping trip looking at the stars, as he said. I texted back, enjoy them starts… (Blah, blah, blah).

Has he texted/called me since? No. We covered that. So, when we do talk, it’s going to go down something like this:

First, I will apologize to him. I will say:

Sorry I didn't call you back, or text you back. It's just that I've got too much riding on my job, and I couldn't have this conversation mid-work week… (Blah, blah, blah. Who cares?)

Then, I am going to lay it out (with some shorter version of the following points):

I've come to realize that a person can figure out what their lessons in life are with or without a person in their life. That said, to me it feels like whatever you are trying to figure out doesn't involve me. It feels like you don't want it to involve me. I feel like more of a distraction than part of your process.

Independent of you, of us, I need to know that the person I am spending time with wants to spend time with me. I want someone in my life that wants me in their life and shows me that. I want a friend and a lover…and more. (Dare I say “boyfriend” to him?). Every week when you wait that extra day or three to contact me, to text me, or to show me that you are thinking about me and want to see me, my feelings are hurt. I realize all we’re doing is dating and I’m not a dater.

So whatever it is that you need in your life, however it is that you are re-defining yourself, based on your actions I don't feel like I am part of that re-definition. That's why I cannot do this anymore.

I don't feel like I get to be the girl w/ you anymore. I feel like a girl who keeps getting her feelings hurt because she’s nagging the guy she is with to give her what she deserves, and he doesn't seem to really want her in his life.

Bottom line: I want to fall. I want a future. That’s what I want in my life. Yet, I have no place to fall with you.


Of course, after he does call tonight, then again tomorrow, and after I finally talk to him and he offers to fix something for me, or brings me more A. Watt CDs (his proverbial flowers for crapping in my lap and flying so loose with contact), because that’s been his pattern so far, then I'll remember how good the sex is, how beautiful he really is (even if he is confused and young) and I won’t want to give that up.

I'll hear his voice and my ache will wash away. I’ll keep feeling how beautiful his insides are but how 26 his life is. I'll wish that what we have is different, could be different than how it felt from the beginning, temporary. Then, it won’t be.

Which brings us to next week, or the week after, which will be just like every other week, where he'll wait too long to call again, and my ego, my feelings, my girl heart, my I-can't-do-this-half-way-shit any more, and my I WANT MORE will get another dent and I'll not be able to do this anymore. I'll really, really follow my own advice and give up the guy hurting my feelings (even if he doesn’t mean to). Then that will be that.

Or, he'll get it together. He’ll suddenly start stepping up. Do I believe that? What do you think?

Even if I still haven’t totally figured out if he’s really the one hurting my feelings or if I am hurting my own feelings with the things I want from a man, with the comparisons I am making with the way my relationship with Watt is playing out (slow as molasses) versus how things have progressed with other men, I am not stupid. Jen’s dad’s words are forever in my head… If you want to know how a man feels about you, look at what he’s doing.

That could be another excuse, too, that I am hurting my own feelings. (Silly girl.) I could also be waiting one more week or so until Watt fixes the problem with my i Tunes. Selfish? Nah. He’s the 26 year old man who is getting laid by an experienced, open-minded 40 year old woman who has let him get away with barely calling and just seeing me once a week for weeks, when, at this stage, I should be getting 2-3 calls a week, at least.

The way the guy at Lowes put it today, Watt should be calling me at least once a day by now, to see how I am, and should be wanting to see me at least 2-3 times a week. This guy at Lowes, he told me this after I admitted to him that I wasn’t really pissed off about trying to find a solution for re-hanging a stupid shelf back onto a wall, it was something else. He prodded, so, fine, I told him it was a boy.

Then, he gave me advice. He reminded me that I deserved what I wanted and that a man who wanted me would give me that and more. He wasn’t as succinct, but he got his point across and was pretty adamant about it not being good, the lack of calls. And, while he was almost as cute (but as young as Watt) he wasn’t even flirting. He was just a nice guy who thought I wasn’t getting enough of what I deserved. (Okay, I inferred that, too, about him thinking I deserved a lot—that’s all me—but I gotta tell ya, this guy really wanted to make sure I was set straight and knew I should be getting more calls.

Calls enough, shmuff! Watt is a good guy. I get that Watt is just trying to figure his shit out and I think he thinks, like all men do (if a girl lets them go on thinking it), that he can have it his way. He thinks that this whole blaze approach works. He gets his cake, his sex, his time, his space, his… (I am so onto Blah, blah, blah right now.)

Dramatic pause… And what have I done not to support that way of thinking?

It’s happening, isn’t it? I am doing what I said I’d never do again (since I was 26). I am letting a guy make a nag out of me. A girl should never have to nag a guy for what she needs or deserves.

Besides, between you and me, it's just going to get pathetic if I become a broken record in my own blog: I adore him. He's beautiful. He's annoying. He's hurting my feelings.

Ah, well, I guess that's how blog works. The truth doesn't get put on hold because I want to sound less like a real girl and more like an evolved being. At least I know coming to this decision to quit this is only going to take me weeks, if things don't change, rather than months or years. I DO have that going for me!


Second whine: I still have that drowning feeling in my new job, where I can feel them wanting 1000 things from me, yet, I can't get over the learning curve quick enough to even give them even 20 things. This is, of course, 55% self-imposed stress/45% reality.

The powers that be want so much from me, they want me to train so many of their processes, but I have to learn these process first and since I am not being trained pound for pound (this goes this way, now tell someone else how it goes), but rather information is being thrown at me like 52 card pick up, I can't quite get my bearings and figure out how to stack the deck. I keep picking up a card, a process, thinking this goes here, this comes next, then something else, some more info, another need, comes flying at me from another direction, and I am like, Dang it, did that go that way? What's this person saying to me now? What was I doing? Did I ever have a brain?

I know I’ll get it, but I need to get it all sooner than later. I’m too tired for a new job right now and for yet another broken record blog complaint.

Third whine: I did just start my period the other day. So, this might all be hormones, the annoyance with working for a living, again, all day, EVERY DAY, and this heart ache over Watt, my little black dress guy who won't seem to treat me like a white-dress girl. (Suddenly I want to be Ava, where the man in my life wants, wants, WANTS me.)

Either way, if this is hormones, apparently this means I am only a rational/evolved human being 20-24 days out of the month, if I am lucky. And, when my heart hurts, and when my brain is overloaded, I also seem to be incapable of saying one single thing that resembles something other than a rant or a complaint.

Fourth whine: I actually yelled at the wall last night. Not loud enough for the crappy neighbors to hear me, but just loud enough to release the anger from the frustration and stress that keeps building from the constant noise.

I yelled to the wall, to them: Really? You assholes! Do you know how much I cannot stand your inconsideration, your noise?!!! GAWD, can't you just please, friggen PLEASE, for one single moment give me a moment's rest?!!!"

Then I cried a little, because that's what a girl does when her home, which used to be a haven for 11.5 of the last 13 years, isn't a place of rest and relaxation anymore because butt-heads have destroyed it w/ their noise. (Broken record complaints suck!)

Now, after my whine, I think I need even more wine, please!

Shoot. Any one got the number for AA? No. Don’t give it to me. Just get me some more wine from Trader Joes, please. I can’t drive anywhere. I’ve been drinking.

Okay, now off to TV land, the place of where numb and don’t-want-to-think-about-that-or-that is celebrated!

Keep being fabulous. (Do it for both of us. I feel more drab-ulous.)