The Little Engine That Could

Saturday, October 29, 2005

What to say?

Taking classes is awesome and hard.

That sounds so dumb, but here goes.....

I am in a class, a year long class. It's based around the cycles of life (read: slightly wiccan) and this month we are in contact with the destroyer. The destroyer being an image we hold in ourselves, and that we do things to destroy ourselves. In circle on our big Saturday we wrote down how we destroy ourselves. Mine are apparent, but going around the room and having other women have the same things that I use to hurt myself was interesting. A bit of "Oh honey, you shouldn't feel that." Crap.

Feel anyway you need to feel.

So, destroyer comes out, and if we don't let her out how she wants, then she takes away from us what she needs.

I go on date number two (which shouldn't have happened at all) with the Elvis Republican. #1: He calls as I am getting there (Sunday brunch date) saying he just got up. Now I want ham and eggs, and I want it in the next hour, but I wait for him. #2: Should have cancelled and said thanks but no thanks right then, but....Read the NY Times, have various non-hip hipsters look at me as I drink my coffee. After I order, he shows up and all I do is say HI.

Elvis Republican: Don't be mad at me.
ME: You are an hour and a half late.
ER: You could have cancelled.
ME: Stop being like eyeore.
ER: How's that?
ME: I am not going to feel sorry for you, I am over it. I ordered you ham and eggs.

As we eat, and drink coffee, talk about various topics (work, family, etc) he begins to spout politics, again. I am so bored bored bored, and am thinking-- that is a face I never want to kiss. Ever.

After a twenty minute tirade, I shut him up.

ME: No more politics. We land on the opposite side of the fence.
ER: But isn't that good?
ME: Not if you ever want to have sex with me.
ER: Oh.
ME: And by the way, who shows up in a Mets jersey for a date? I don't care if it is Sunday, take a goddamned shower, and brush your teeth, You smell like you are rotting from the inside out. Your crew cut is stupid, and you are right, I was reaching to the bottom of the barrel when I agreed to go out with you. Now tip our waiter 10 bucks, because I have taken up his table for too long, and the subway is that way.

Okay, I really didn't say that. The destroyer wanted to say that. What I said was...

ME: no more politics. You are just trying to push my buttons.
ER: In more ways than one.
ME: Eww, gross, no.
ER: What?
ME: I just threw up a little bit in my mouth. I have to go. Thanks for breakfast.
ER: Wait, umm, you wanna go see a movie?
ME: No.
ER: Umm, so that's it? You use me for ham and eggs?
ME: Yeah.

I felt gross, put on my jacket and gave the waiter a ten and thanked him, walked to my car and came home.

That jerk had me waste good makeup.

Where does the class and this date fit it-- well, she wanted to stomp all over him, scream "YOU'RE WRONG, STUPID AND DUMB.". I never understand the political conversations that go "I am right, you are stupid". I respect various opinions, I respect different lifestyles. Hey, if you are into role playing, all the more interesting, if you think horses are aliens, right on, if you go to Church every Sunday, good for you, if you think Bush is a good thing, fine. Just don't come from "I'm right, you are stupid" or "my way is the only way." I might be misinformed, I might not have a stance on issues, but I am interested an fascinated by life, all forms.

The dialogue is more important than the stance.

Oh to find someone to have a conversation with. Who might be a little dark, who might be a little off beat. Who opens my mind, and leads me to water, not forcing me to drink.

Tuesday, October 11, 2005

Old Phone Numbers

I wanted to talk to you, just like we used to do.
You sitting in your room hiding from the noise and the dogs. Listening to the house that you bought and built be torn apart around you by life moving on.

I wanted to talk to you, just like we used to do.
Me in my room, whispering into the phone, so as to not disturb the various roommates, speaking up when you told me too. Trying not be scared that this was it, that this was all there is, that life somehow, somewhere was around the corner in this big far away city.

I wanted to talk to you, and I called your number. The number you were at for my whole life. The number I cannot erase from my memory, no matter how many times I try. No food, no drug, no wine, no smoke can block out your number in my head. It is and always will be your number. The number that is you, that means that I can reach you any time day and night.

And I got you. I heard your "ahHello" and you knew it was me.
And I didn't speak, because how could I have a phone line to heaven?

You told me that it is beautiful there, and that I need to speak up because God can't hear me all the time, and that you sit every day in the window of your house, just like it was before it got changed, with the shade half down, the sun coming in, having your sanka with one pink sugar. And you have so many friends there, you have so many lives that you had forgotten about. You are excited to see me, but if won't be for a while, so stop trying to hurry it up because we have forever together.

and I said "I love you Gramma. I miss you. I love hearing your voice."

And then you were the silent one.
A man on the other end said "I think you have the wrong number".

It's your number. it will always be your number. And like you said when I was five, and mom was being mean to me, and daddy wasn't home all the time, you told me, you told me if I remembered your number and I needed to call I could call anytime I wanted to. ANYTIME. Well, I am calling now, and you are not there, not there at all and I need you and I need you, and mom isn't being mean but she's getting older, and daddy's not always there and I am getting older too and I am scared. I'm scared this is all there is, and my life isn't just around the corner, it's here now. And that I didn't do a very good job with it.

And all I need you to do is pick up the phone. Just pick it up from heaven. And we can talk someone. We don't even have to talk much about anything. I can read you the tv guide like I once did. I can tell you what's on. You can tell me stories of when I was little. When you were little. Of anyone, anything. It doesn't matter.

Just pick up the phone. just to hear your voice without the tinniness it has in my head. Just to hear it as it should be, in my ear, for me to close my eyes to and fall asleep.

Saturday, October 01, 2005

Big Girl on Dating

It's past the millennium, and I didn't become the youngest woman president of the United States. It may have had something to do with smoking pot in college, I think I lost my focus there. And so then I move to NYC, to meet the man of my dreams-- however working in theater, I am more likely to meet the Will to my Grace, or the woman of my dreams, neither of which provide me with the kind of satisfaction I am looking for. Bars, ehhh, community clubs and networking event-- for type A's that are still trying to get their resumes to look well rounded. Classes-- yes, I met a lot of men in them, however, nothing sticks. Online dating.... hmmmm.

I tried online dating a couple years ago, met a funny guy and then talked to him over the phone. It was a nice click. Then on our first and only date, he picks me up in his car, which has a baby seat in the back. No problem. When we are at drinks he tells me he is still married, and his wife is cheating on him so this, for him is payback. Now I am intrigued. But not going to sleep with him. Here's a guy that for all intents and purposes, is a total slob, and unkempt, he is dowdy and has small hands (small hands on a man creep me out, their fingers take on the look of fat little sausages, and they are meaty like a homemade hamburger patty) and HE is MARRIED. I am thinking there is something wrong with me. I end the date, and never speak to him again. And swear off online dating.

Flash forward to two months ago. Online again. In the interim, I have dated three different men at work and in classes. Although none of them did it for me, they were nice, and I learned a few things. I go out on a date with a man who is interesting, but different. Total spark, however, he is a trekkie. A big time trekkie. And to top it off, he cross dresses to express himself. As if being a trekkie wasn't expressive enough. Without that information, I could have been in a longer term serious relationship. However, I had just recently dated a girl, and wanted no part of the alternative lifestyle. The cross dressing trekkie becomes my friend, and again, I think to myself, it must be me. I am doing something wrong. Regardless of how much I like this guy, there is no way I can ever introduce him to my parents-- "Hi mom meet X. No his eyeshadow isn't garish." Here's the worst part, his shoe size is much smaller than mine. And therefore, he has better shoes. That bitch.

So I try again. The next one I meet twitches and shakes over coffee. Well, maybe it is the coffee. And when he speaks to me, it's like he's not really in the conversation at all. "Yeah, I worked for X, yeah yeah, great job." a little while later... "Yeah, I worked for X, yeah yeah, great job." Umm, yeah, you told me about it already. "Oh really, huh, hahahaha, yeah, well I worked for X" Get the picture?

After talking about it with my roommate, I discover that I am really at ease in new social situations. Maybe he wasn't. Okay, so we talk on the phone a week later. "Yeah, I worked for X, yeah yeah, great job." Next.

I then go to a site that caters to women who are luscious and big, and men who are looking to date them. Some of the profile names include "BigDick4BBW" (no his name is not Richard) "Luv4AMPLE" "LuvFatChicks" etc, etc. Yes, I am a BBW, a plus size, zaftig, large, heavy, curvy, and a big girl, however, being someone's fetish is not my style. We'll get into fetishes later. I read some of the profiles-- I'm into fishing and Harley shows, I want a super sized woman to smother me, I want to be dominated (hmm, check him off as interesting), I am an ultra conservative, Rush is my God (and not the band). And still I think there must be something wrong with me.

I am not going to cater to the lowest common denominator, I am not going to be that girl who is just in it for fun. I want a partner, somewhere he is out there. I want partnership, where I can say anything to him, create our world together, where there is no fishing and Harley shows, where muscles are used for work, not display, where I can be comfortable introducing him to my folks, where I can be loved and give love freely... I want the whole package. I want smart, smart ass, funny, witty and wry. I want to be held before I sleep, and holding nothing back. I want creative inventive dates, I want to be wooed. I want future plans made beyond tomorrow, I want a life where we only struggle because we want something more, and there is work to be done before we can get there.

So, I'll keep sifting through the crap, and find a gem. He's gotta be right in front of me somewhere, I just know it. And if I have to take a ride on the back of a motorcycle to find him, I will.

But I swear, I am not going fishing. At least not this week.