Monday, December 28, 2009

My Family Also Questions My Sanity from Time to Time...

My parents, still to this day even though I am well above the legal drinking age, judge me when I drink alcohol in front on them. Like the other day, when the guests were about to arrive to the parents' Christmas party, I discovered half a bottle of Limoncello just chilling on my parents' kitchen counter. Seeing as as I was just about done helping my mom cook, I figure I might as well make myself a generous drink of Limoncello and cream.

Of course my mother sees me pour a shot of Limoncello into a martini glass and immediately goes, "Do you always like to drink by yourself?" Knowing that my mom hardly ever drinks, it wasn't like she was getting upset that I didn't offer to make her one; she was clearly seeing this as a warning sign that I might just be indulging in spirits a bit too much.

I wanted to tell her that, as a person who is almost always intensely immersed in work, I frequently need a drink or two just to keep my sanity in tact. She wouldn't understand that though, so I just lie to her about wanting to try a new mixed drink recipe I saw online. Besides, I only drink once a week and Christmas day just happened to be that once-a-week occasion.

Later on, right before the guests arrive, I catch my mother whispering to my father in confidence but, strategically, loud enough so I can hear too:

"I am afraid that she drinks too much when she's at home by herself."

I sigh and walk away from the conversation and when the guests arrive I help myself to a full glass of wine and toast to a very Merry Christmas. If having an affinity for the finer spirits is wrong, perhaps I don't want to be right.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

A Moment of Bliss

I am having an amazing time with Mr J this week. The moment I saw him for the first time in almost four months, the old feelings just rushed back and over me like a wave.

It is so incredibly sad to me that Friday will be the last day I will get to see him and then another long break for... three, four, five months... God knows how long it will be until I see him again and what events will occur until then. And then after I receive my master's and, hopefully, move the hell out of Ohio.. God knows where I will end up, how far away from him. And he might be moving elsewhere as well, as he wants to transfer to a better law school.

Mr J is tip-toeing around the subject of commitment, which is not making me a happy camper even though I know he's probably right in staying away from making any attachments. He said things like, "I don't have the time to date in law school. " - and I know what he means. But then he also said, "I missed you so much. I wish I could come home from classes every day and see you." - and I know what he means.

I've never felt anything even close to what I'm feeling for him. It feels so good and it feels so heart-breaking... and I am just trying to enjoy every moment of it for now and not dwell on the negativity.

I just hope that the bastard sticks around until, at least, May when we both, hopefully, finalize our futures and can make the decision of whether or not we can be together after all.

I just don't want him to get away...

Thursday, December 10, 2009

Whatever Happened to Mr H...

There is a curse that I, sometimes, feel hangs over me like a dark, ominous cloud. I try to ignore it because I feel like if I concentrate on it too much, it can prompt me to sabotage any budding relationships I might be developing. But, ever so often when I meet a new guy, I can't help but think of "The Three-Week Curse" as I call it and the consequences it may have on my love life.

The Three Week Curse is the uncanny ability for a perfectly-fine romantically-inclined relationship with a guy to go completely down the drain - all in a matter of a three week period. The countdown begins with a first date and never fails to manifest itself exactly twenty one days later. Sometimes I foresee the end from a mile away, sometimes I just sense that something is going awry, and sometimes I have no damn clue as to what, in God's name, went wrong.

Case Study #30 - Mr H:

Things with Mr H started off wonderfully. Sparks and chemistry were present from the get-go as, I think, we were equally smitten by each other when we met through my friend at a bar. He contacted me on Facebook shortly after our initial meeting and we set up our very first date a week later.

Sushi and wine - it was a picture-perfect first date, and Mr J was nowhere on my mind. It was a great start to what I thought would be a new, Mr J-free chapter. I was willing and ready to put myself out there again, and there one no one better to do it for than Mr H.

Our first week "hanging out" was just as perfect as our first date... as it is always the case in Week One of the Three Week Curse. This is the week when a guy is willing to do anything for me. I am talking, he wants to make long-term plans (like start booking a cruise together four months in advance), introduce me to his parents (fast, sure, but a nice gesture nevertheless) and, basically, see me every waking moment of every day.

Week Two rolled around and things were still great on the dating front. This was the week when I drove up North to check out Mr H's apartment for the first time, as he lives one hour away from me. He had a lovely, quaint place and I had a ball with him - a great dinner at a cute little restaurants, a couple of drinks afterward, and he even introduced me to some of his friends at his usual hang-out spot. Things were moving along nicely with Mr H, but in the back of my mind, I still knew not to rush anything sexually because I still had to survive...

Week Three... when everything still seems fine on a surface, nevertheless, some warning signs begin to exhibit themselves and point to a sad conclusion that a once hard-to-extinguish flame is now dying off. For example, during Week One and Two, Mr H infallibly would text me every day. just to ask me how my day was going. In Week Three, he skipped two days and though he finally came around, I remember voicing my concerns with the situation to one of my best friends who is familiar with my Three Week Curse.

Shortly after Week Three was over, it started becoming more and more evident that Mr H and I were not meant to be. Even though I saw him once during the fourth week, he began making excuses as to why he was busy to drive out and see me. While this went on for about two weeks, the back and forth exchanges of "What are you up to this weekend?" and "Oh, I've got a pile of work I have to take care of. Can we hang out next week?" I knew very well where it was all heading.

I consider myself an expert at the dating game at this point, so as not to be played for a fool I quickly called Mr H out, "Hey listen, I don't know if you just don't like me as much any more but it seems that you've been avoiding seeing me lately. Just tell me if that's the case because I don't want to be lead on."

He responded with the all-telling, "I still like you a lot, it's just that this long-distance thing is really hard."

That was all that I needed to hear. Bam. Done. I had to move on immediately. "Well thank you for being honest," I replied and closed that chapter once and for all.

No drama, no petty shiftiness, I was still, nevertheless, disenchanted with another guy who just wasn't in it for the long run. I did not invest myself too much emotionally into the whole thing, precisely because of the fear that this shit would occur. But I still had high hopes that, perhaps, this guy would finally break the three week curse.

I am not saying that every guy I've ever dated lost interest in me after three weeks - it's almost every guy that I had really amazing chemistry with that tends to do this to me. It is almost as if.... the less I care about a guy, the more he is willing to stick around and beg for my attention.

With that being said.... I get to see Mr J in three days! Can't wait to see how that goes...

P.S. @ 11:41PM:

And just like that Mr H texts me with, "Hey, how have you been? I miss hanging out with you."

Oh Mr H... girls don't wait around for shifty guys to make up their minds. Girls move on.
I've moved on, my dear.