January 30, 2009
Last summer, I was engaged to an absolutely wonderful man for approximately 3 hours. He and I had lived together for over two years in blissful, snarky harmony, laughing until our sides hurt over the antics of Karen Walker and sighing with wistful longing over the intelligent, articulate dialogue that seemed to manifest it self far more frequently in a fictitious White House than it ever did in recent reality.
Alas, the relationship was not meant to be – something I knew when I met him, something I’d been aware of for years when he asked me to marry him. You see, I’m not his type, what with the two X chromosomes and all. And yet, for a brief period of time, I was to be his wife.
For reasons passing understanding, I seem to be a magnet for a certain type of very persistent, very drunk male person. Someone for whom a boyfriend or lesbianism is only viewed as a challenge (yes, I’ve claimed both in an effort to extricate myself with a minimum of hurt feelings and/or violence). Someone for whom the only effective deterrent is the implication that I am, of course, the “property” of a fiancé. Who gave me a very nice ring that’s just being cleaned/resized, if the barfly is sober enough to ask.
And that is how, after my turn on the karaoke stage at my fabulous former roommate’s birthday party, I became engaged to a gay man*.
Open Letter to Not-Terribly-Sober-Blokes-In-Bars: If your determined persistent pathological approach causes the stark light of panic to flare in the lady’s eyes, followed by a casual attempt at hiding her left hand and a claim to a fiancé, you might want to rethink your methods. Especially when the alleged groom-to-be was just trading numbers with the guy sitting next to you.
*To date, this means I’ve been proposed to in one bowling alley and one dive/karaoke bar.
I suppose, given my track record, that hanging out at gun ranges, casinos, and strip clubs would increase my chances of achieving respectability in the eyes of my family. Third time’s the charm, right?
January 29, 2009
La divine Lisa of LemonGloria was kind enough to send me these incredibly thoughtful interview questions. Instructions are below, if you’d like to play along.
1. We all grow in ways small and large from year to year. How would you say you are different now than you were five years ago?
There are a lot of little ways in which I’m different than I was five years ago. I think the most significant change is probably my tolerance for people who aren’t healthy for me – I have very little, anymore. In order to get there, I had to dismiss the notions of blame and fault, and recognize that I didn’t always need a specific action, one particular trait, on which to pin my justification for removing someone from my life. It was enough that my happiness was lessened in connection with them, as a result of the combination of two incompatible sets of personality traits.
That goes hand in hand with needing to be liked a lot less. As cliché as it may sound, a dearth of approval from one’s parents can lead one to seek approval from anyone and everyone. But once one stops focusing entirely on being good for other people, one can start caring for oneself. In my case, I think that’s made me a better friend to the people who matter.
Whew! Thank heaven these are frontloaded. 😉
2. Describe your perfect day.
Well, my perfect day is decidedly more about people than it is places or activities, but I’ll try to be a little more specific than that. It would probably involve sleeping in until about 10:30 in the morning, a leisurely breakfast in bed, and then some kind of physical activity with all of my friends involved. A long hike, or skiing/boarding/snowman construction, or a day at the beach. Something where everyone could have a great time and meet up for bursts of laughter.
And then a nice, long, late afternoon “tea” (Dr. Taggart’s word for a pre-dinner adult beverage hour or two), followed by a big, late dinner with everyone. And then we all mingle, or not, as we choose. All of my people in one place for one day, getting along and having fun. Yep.
3. If you could have either the ability to fly or the ability to breathe under water, which would you choose?
Of course, I’d choose the ability to breathe under water. Much stealthier, don’tcha know. They’d never see me coming! 😀
4. If you were able to change one decision you made in the past, what would it be?
I’ve thought about this a lot. There’s a party I really wish I hadn’t gone to, when I was 17. And there’s myriad times when I’ve caused someone else pain, that I wish I could take back.
A few years ago, I cut a friend out of my life at the request of someone I was dating. As things happen, the relationship ended, and the friend and I got back in touch, only for the friendship to die out later for a plethora of excellent reasons – reasons that were mine, and no one else’s.
What I regret about that situation, is that the initial decision, the one that probably caused the most pain, wasn’t for good reasons. It was a childish thing, on my part, to do what I was told, instead of thinking about it on my own and handling my friendships and attendant issues the way the person I’d like to be someday would handle them.
So if I could undo something, I think it would be that.
5. If you had to choose a flavor of ice cream that most fits your personality, what kind do you think you would you be? Feel free to make one up if necessary.
Regular readers would, of course, expect me to say Nutella. Because I do love Nutella enormously (pun intended). However, I’m not sure that it really suits my personality. Nutella, at least in the quantities in which I consume it (when I let myself), is associated with guilt. And I hope I don’t make people feel guilty.
I think it would be an Ultimate Comfort Food kind of ice cream – a nice nutmeggy apple cider flavor, maybe with a salted caramel swirl running through it. And oatmeal cookies on the side. Can there be oatmeal cookies on the side, or is that cheating?
If you’d like to play along, just follow these instructions:
1. Leave me a comment saying, “Interview me.”
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions. Be sure you link back to the original post.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.
January 28, 2009
Time: Halloween, 2008
Place: House Party
So, for those of you who know me, it may amuse you to learn that this was the year where I decided I was going to buy one of those costumes. The ones that are most decidedly not designed with warmth or comfort in mind.
Being me, I couldn’t just go as a mouse, or a kitty-cat, or even Tinkerbell. No, I needed to find something a little more… me.
OF course, I was slightly concerned about looking divine in said ensemble (I believe that in my case, spandex is a privilege, not a right). So I didn’t eat a whole heck of a lot that day.
Which made playing beer pong with Captain Morgan a somewhat questionable decision. But I was pretty much fine after that. And the rum and diet I had when we got to the party was perfectly nice, as well. It was… the blueberry martini. A one part vodka to one part blueberry juice ratio, as far as I could tell, it went down quickly.
It was when I realized mid-conversation that what had just come out of my mouth in no way matched what I was trying to say, that I had entirely too much to drink. And it was when another guest suggested that I started speaking English, that my suspicions were confirmed. I was drunk. More drunk than I’ve been in a very, very long time. So, I promptly shut up and continued the rest of my evening in the company of friends who have thus far been far too kind to mock me… at least to my face.
Speaking English definitely has its benefits. Especially when the costumes come off.
January 27, 2009
I don’t remember exactly how old I was. Old enough to have seen Dr. Taggart very, very angry – I know that much. I think I was still in nursery school, though. Sibling was probably in third or fourth grade.
We weren’t ever really supposed to be in my parents’ room unless we were sick, or had been sent on a particular errand. That year, as Christmas approached, my parents readied themselves for their monthly bridge group and as they left, my sister in charge for the four or so hours they’d be gone, Dr. Taggart specifically told Sibling not to look for her presents.
I’m not sure if Sibling rationalized that if she already pretty much knew where they were, she wasn’t actually looking for them. I remember trying to tell her I didn’t think it was a good idea, when she went into their room, into the walk-in closet, and climbed the ladder to look on the top shelf. I don’t know what she left out of place, what telltale sign gave it away.
I think it was “discussed” in the days that followed. I think Sibling was punished, somehow – no desserts, perhaps? I can’t remember what the punishment was supposed to be, at the time.
What I do remember was Christmas morning, coming downstairs to a tree that was empty under one quadrant. Completely barren. A two-dimensional stocking slouching limply amongst its lumpy, burgeoning brethren. And tears. Hysterical, red-eyed, hiccuping tears. And Dr. Taggart calmly announcing that if my sister couldn’t follow Santa’s rules, she didn’t get presents.
What seemed an eternity later, as I was sternly told to open my presents whether I wanted to or not, Sibling was instructed to go outside, into the snow, and look in the trash cans normally reserved for branches and leaves and such. Her red-rimmed eyes were still dim as she brought in a black trash bag filled with brightly wrapped packages.
We were always very careful around Christmastime, after that.
January 26, 2009
K: You really should have known better. You do know better.
DT: It never ceases to amaze me, your penchant for pointing out the obvious.
K: And now, you’re just going to have to really think about what all of this says about you.
DT: I suppose I will, at that.
K: So, haven’t seen you around here for a while.
DT: I had my reasons. Still do, a bit. Wouldn’t necessarily count on it being a regular occurrence. But you might pop in from time to time, if you felt like it.
K: You seem to forget that I, at least, generally have a pretty good handle on what you’re doing. Even if you don’t.
DT: Fair enough. See you around, then.