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Friday, January 31, 2003 ( 12:11 PM ) Rebecca So this weekend I am going on a blind date. In a nearby city. With someone who lives in another, entirely different, city. But that's a story for another day. The story for today is that I told Silent But Deadly Boy (SBDB) the other day, casually, that I was going away this weekend to aforementioned city. He did not blink an eye, since people from my fair city often travel to aforementioned fair city for fun and relaxation. Nor did he ask, right away, what I was going to do there. Fine. No information given. Being a woman of conscience, however, I debated how much to tell SBDB, should he question me further. (SBDB, by the way, has reverted to his warm, non-standoffish self because I'm being low-maintenance and he's still salivating over that trump card I played a couple weeks ago .) Last night, I started to think I might skate by without him ever asking, what exactly, I'd be doing on my trip. An unspoken part of our agreement is that we don't pry into each other's social lives. If the other person has something important to tell us, they'll tell us (we figure). Another part of our agreement is that we can go on dates without telling each other. But still. If he asked what I was going to do on my trip, I was going to tell him. "Going on a date." Just like that. Given the situation, it seemed like the right thing to do. And all during dinner last night, I waited for him to ask. I was prepared (sort of) to say it. But he didn't ask. Until later, that is. As we were lying around all relaxed, he said, making idle conversaion, "So, what's goin' on down in (blank city)?" If I had been strapped to a lie detector right then, I would have been immediately handcuffed and carted off to prison. My heart rate accelerated to 200 beats a minute as I ever-so-calmly said, "Oh, just meeting a friend." "Oh yeah, which friend?" I thought he might ask. "Oh yeah, I have a friend down there too," he said instead. Conversation over. I moved a little farther away from him so he couldn't feel how hard my heart was beating. Now, technically, I haven't done anything wrong. So why do I feel guilty? | # E-mail Breakup Babe Tuesday, January 28, 2003 ( 7:01 PM ) Rebecca When that uptight chick on your home voicemail says in that accustatory fembot drone of hers, as if you're such an idiot to even ask, "You have NO new messages," do you ever just want to yell "Shut up, bit*h!"? | # E-mail Breakup Babe Sunday, January 26, 2003 ( 5:37 PM ) Rebecca OK, let’s talk about ME for a second. Oh wait, we always talk about me, don’t we? Well, I want to talk about ME some more. And here’s what I want to say. When is it going to be MY turn, dammit? I want to know when the hell I get to date someone who’s funny? I deserve it, don’t I? Someone to make me laugh? My boyfriends have been smart. They’ve been good-looking. Most of them have even had a decent sense of humor. But not a single one of them has been funny. Loser’s idea of a “joke” was that every time someone said, “I love so-and-so” -- for example, “I love this song” -- he would respond with a coy, smug look on his face and say, “Why don’t you marry it then?!” This was charming the first time I heard it. Exactly once. But I had to hear it over and over ad nauseum for two years. The fact that I didn’t see this for the sign it was just goes to show how big was my blind spot in that little venture. Many of my friends and loved ones have funny mates, and several of my friends are jokesters themselves: the kind of people you like to be around because you know they’re going to make you laugh and therefore feel better about life. Now I know you don't have to be funny to be a good mate. But I grew up with funny people. And there is a very high quality bar for wit within my own family. Not only is there’s L’il Sis, Super Brother In Law (SBL), and Li’l Brother of Super Brother in Law (LBSBL), there is/was dear old Dad. No I know I badmouthed him the other day. And maybe this is my way of saying sorry. But I realized last night, while talking to Galpal #2, that the reason I haven’t found the right person yet is because – not to get all Oedipal and stuff -- but none of these boys have been enough like my father. My dad was a smart-ass, irreverent, sarcastic SOB, and one of the smartest people I’ve ever known. Sometimes he turned that snide humor on us, but just as often, we all laughed together, and he encouraged us in our own smart-ass ways. If Li'l Sis or I got back a good line on him during a skirmish, it could defuse his short temper, and when he laughed, we knew we had won not only the battle, but a little more of his respect. And he was a big teaser. Sometimes merciless and mean, it’s true. But I grew up believing that teasing was a sign of love and affection, and I learned to take it and give it with (not quite) equal skill. None of my boyfriends have ever known how to do this, either. And Lord knows, Loser especially, couldn’t take it. Hence, a certain lack of frisson in my love life. And while we’re on the subject of ME and what I want, I’d like to add something to the list. I want a boyfriend that I can talk to, and not know where the time has gone. Oh, there can be comfortable silences and all that. But I’m a big talker, and I want someone who can match me in that department. Who can parry and thrust and play with words, who can argue and tease and joke, who can throw in literary references without trying, and most of all, will hardly ever run out about things he wants to talk to me about. Silent But Deadly Boy (SBDB) sometimes lives up to his name a little too much in the “silent” department. Once he’s lubricated with drugs and alcohol, he can talk OK. And for now, he makes up for it in other ways. But I know from experience that if your conversation is not sparky to begin with, it never will be. Last night, GalPal #2 described a recent drive with her boyfriend, where they got to their destination and didn’t even want to get out of the car, because they still had so much to say to each other. And something clicked in my head. I've never had that before, but I've never realized that I've never had that before. And now that I've realized that I've never had it before, I realize I really want it. Is that so much to ask? | # E-mail Breakup Babe Wednesday, January 22, 2003 ( 3:24 PM ) Rebecca Um. so where was I? Excuse me for being out of it but I've been waist-deep in editing literary gems like the following: The following code example creates two objects. First, a container object and, second, a sub-container object. A value for the sub-container object is added to the otherWellKnownObjects property of the container object. The code example binds to the sub-container object using the WKGUID binding and displays its ADsPath. It then renames the sub-container object and binds again using the same WKGUID binding So buried I've hardly even had time to think about boys. (Oh how I wish that were true.) I will dish the latest dirt for you, but before doing so, I'd like us to all join hands and offer up a little prayer: Thank you, God, for blessing me each day with that little white pill, Celexa. Amen. Now, on to business. What happened this weekend, you ask? Well here it is.
Decided instead to have s*x with him a few more times before dumping his sorry white ass. I mean, a girl's gotta get the good stuff where she can. Thursday, January 16, 2003 ( 8:37 AM ) Rebecca Sigh. It was bound to happen. That as soon as I dumped the doctor, me and Silent But Deadly Boy were going to start having “issues.” Oh. And it was also bound to happen that as soon as I started having s*x with him, after waiting A MONTH AND A HALF, that he was going to start acting aloof. Last night, after loads of great s*x, I attempted to make a plan with him for the weekend. For one night, mind you. Now SBDB has been very good about making plans with me up ‘til now. And plans are one of my things. When you’re juggling boys like moi, you need to have your ducks in a row. Last weekend, for example, was a miracle of engineering and luck. I had already invited SBDB to a party with me on Saturday night, but he was waffling due to prior plans to "go out with friends" (read: try to meet women in bars). Then Dr. Demento stepped in and asked me out for Saturday night (The first time he had asked me out for two weekends in a row, and whaddya know, we break up. But I digress.) So I oh-so-suavely suggest to SBDB that we go out Friday night instead, since he wants to "go out with friends" on Saturday night. He is all for that. So I have loads of s*x with him on Friday night, and then go to aformentioned party with the doctor on Saturday night (and have him refuse to kiss me, but that’s another story). My point being: scheduling is important. But scheduling does not always go over so well with the weaker sex. And this weekend, I am trying to make a plan with Sexy Boy. Remember him? He was the first boy on whom I got a big ‘ole infatuation post-Loser. But one night we had a drunken yet mature discussion about whether to f*ck, and oh-so-maturely decided “no,” so as not to make things awkward with our group of friends, etc. Our friendship was quite successful until New Years’ Eve, when SBDB was out of town, the gang went out, and we both needed someone to kiss at midnight. And so on. (For the record, Sexy Boy was quite fun to fool around with). But, since getting over last fall's infatuation with SB, I've seen him for the inappropriate boyfriend material he is. So I decided New Year’s Eve would be one-time thing, especially when I had my hands full with SBDB AND the doctor. But, the doctor is down for the count, SBDB is acting squirelly, and SB has been calling, so... In any case, I am trying to schedule, so as to fit SBDB and SB into one fun-filled weekend. But last night, SBDB was hedging about plans, wanting to “play things by ear,” (read: because he didn’t yet know which night his friends would be going out to meet women in bars), and this led to a Discussion. These are never fun, but it wasn’t so bad as far as Discussions go (except for the fact that it took place at 1:30 a.m. on a Thursday morning when I had to go to work in a few hours and face the Herculean workload that has become my life). He likes, he claims, how things are going. He doesn’t, he claims, want to change things or slow down, or stop altogether (and why would he, since he’s getting the best s*x of his life?). It’s just that (and this rather frank part of the Discussion made us both laugh), I like to have plans so I can manage the other people I’m dating and he likes to play things by ear so he can go out and try to meet people to date when the opportunity presents itself (read: when his friends decide to go out to bars). He’s not, he claims, looking for anyone else, he just has to be "open" to the opportunity (although our agreement states we are not allowed to sleep with other people). (Interesting, though, isn't it, how I talk only about what he wants? As if my own needs and desires don't matter, and the decisions are all up to him?) In any case, I say, WHATever SBDB. Too bad it's so hard for you to meet people and so easy for me. And I say good luck finding anyone who compares to Breakup Babe! Especially since I'd played my trump card earlier in the evening and told him I would indulge his every-man's fantasy and do a thre*some with him. I don't know if I meant it, of course, but it sure sounded good to SBDB. "No girl has ever said she would do that with me before!" But of course not, SBDB. That's because no other girl is BB. And I hope you don't f**k up your chances of keeping her. | # E-mail Breakup Babe Monday, January 13, 2003 ( 10:00 PM ) Rebecca Well finally. It’s all over with me and the doctor. C’est tout fini. So move along, no need to linger, nothing to see here folks. There’s no blood, no carnage, just one slightly bruised ego. He’s all hung up on this other girl, see. And even though it looked like he was finally gonna come through for me – maybe even he thought he was gonna come through for me – it’s her he wants. (Whether she wants him or not, which, of course I hope she doesn’t and that he’s left all to his lonesome, obnoxious self). And really, it’s all for the best. You knew that all along. So did I. I mean, how many different way can you say “red flags?” I wish I had time to tell you all the details, but I don’t. To my profound annoyance, I actually have to work this month. Hard. But quelle boring topic. Let’s just say this. For the moment, Breakup Babe has only one man. And that would be Silent But Deadly Boy, who, while he doesn’t inspire the (misguided) infatuation that the doctor did, is one fine specimen of man. And who, with his rock-climbing, tele-skiing, traveling ways, is everything I’ve ever wanted in the adventure department (and I want a lot.) Not to mention he’s loving, fun, smart, successful, rocks in bed, and has a giant c*ck (Well, maybe not giant. I realized that everyone seems to have a giant c*ck lately, and it struck me that this is, perhaps, a bit of relativism at work – that is, they all SEEM big, because Loser was small. Oh, and he could never do it more than once in a row, hardly had any sex drive, and suffered from sexual dysfunction due to anti-depressants but let’s save that story for another time). Since SBDB isn’t ready to have a girlfriend, though, I might be forced to go on the hunt for another boy just to protect myself. But I really don’t feel like hunting. I like SBDB for crying out loud. And I’m tired. It’s nervewracking, however, to go suddenly from two boys to one because now I have all my eggs in one basket. And that, to a 34-old woman with few eggs to begin with, is a bit nervewracking. For example, how do you think I'm managing to be so blase about el doctor? It's because there's another boy. It would be nice if I didn’t need boys at all. Why do I need them so much anyway? I never thought of myself as one of those girls “who always has a boyfriend” (said in disdainful voice), but uh, I’ve noticed that without male attention, I seem to wither. And I don’t like that. Lest you think that Breakup Babe will become boring with only one boytoy, never fear. The drama is not over, rest assured. And if it is, well, I have a talent for creating drama where it doesn't exist. | # E-mail Breakup Babe Sunday, January 05, 2003 ( 12:56 PM ) Rebecca WHATEVER HAPPENED TO A BOYFRIEND? Those of you who don’t know me probably think I’m some kind of tough-talking, tequila drinking hottie in a low-cut dress who actually enjoys drinking and dancing and drugging with wild abandon and bringing home three boys home a week – even THOUGH I’m 34 and should be spending my time worrying about how my darling, dark-haired daughters are doing in elementary school (Rachel is going to be a writer like me, you know, and Sarah is going to be a doctor just like her father!) and why my darling dark-haired husband is acting so odd – is he tired or having an affair with one of those blonde f***ing nurses again? Well, you’d be right. I do enjoy it. The last six months post-Loser have been a sexy, social whirlwind of the kind we Geminis crave. Full of one adrenalin rush after another. The kind you don’t get in a relationship, when you're kissing the same boy over and over, but which you trade for stuff like stability, security, and love (cough). But you’d also be wrong. I hate it too. Especially now that this spectacularly slutty week has climaxed with me finally, FINALLY, getting some action from that dashing, diabolical d-d-doctor. (Yes, go ahead and sound your warning calls. I won’t listen, of course, but don’t take it personally. I love you all. If only you could lash me to the mast then I might be able to resist his deadly song.) But the story, my loves, in all its wild and drunken glory, will have to wait, because today’s topic is not the minutiae of how I finally asked him what was going on and how he finally told me about his ex, who is sort of back in the picture but sort of not, and how he finally agreed he’d been “emotionally unavailable," and how he finally planted a big wet one on me, and then how the rest of the night he finally proved himself to be every inch the man all of us were starting to doubt he was. No, that’s not what today’s story is about. Today’s story is about how I just can’t take it anymore. This dating game is getting old, OK? I’m lucky to have all these dates, and all this action, and all this fun, but it's hard, OK? Because I'm not really a tough-talking, tequila drinking hottie, I'm just a girl who misses her father and her ex and who wants a man in her life again. ONE man. I want to wake up in the morning and know that this man loves me just as much as he did the night before, when he was under the influence of three Manhattans, three G&Ts, and one joint (and do all boys of my age have addiction problems?) I want to kiss him and know when he kisses me it means something more than in ten minutes he's going to try to to f***k me. I want stability back in my life so I can get to work at a reasonable hour, and actually work while I'm at work instead of waiting for e-mails from cute boys that never come. And really, I want to not want someone and just be happy with my friends and my writing and my work, but I gotta face facts. Like Liz Phair said (so much better than me): I want a boyfriend. I raged against AmbiguityLand months ago and swore I’d never go there again but I was full of s**t. I LIVE there now, people. Because none of us in this l’il love quadrangle of which I'm suddenly part— me, SBDB (who returns tonight after mistakenly leaving me alone for two weeks), the doctor, and his ex (who lives right around the corner, where I plan to bring her a cake—a poison cake) wants to commit. Everyone is gunshy and afraid and whacked, yet at the same time all we want is love. Go figure. | # E-mail Breakup Babe Wednesday, January 01, 2003 ( 11:12 PM ) Rebecca My Christmas Vacation – Vital Stats
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