Wednesday, July 30, 2003
      ( 9:17 AM ) Rebecca  
So that train is barreling down the tracks, and between me and Indie Rock Dad (IRD), we have so much freakin' baggage, only the Good Lord knows whether we'll be able to struggle onboard.

He’s had very few relationships, I’ve had way too many. I’m afraid of giving up boys, he’s afraid of giving up independence.

He worries that he doesn’t think I’m “perfect,” I worry that he’s moody and anxious. I adore his child; he worries she'll get too attached to me.

I’m actively seeking marriage; he just escaped an oppressive marriage. He thinks I’m an “enigma;” I think he’s a seething mass of contradictions.

I worry that we both worry too much, and that because we worry so much, we are Doomed as couple.

And yet.

I feel myself trying to lift those heavy bags. Because when I look in his forest green eyes, I feel something I haven’t felt in a long time. That I don’t want to feel, maybe, and yet I do.

Because when he smiles at me, I would sign my life away in an instant. And because when I climb mountains with him, winding ever higher into sun and snow and lake-studded cirques, I feel like I’ve found someone who shares my same beating heart.

But hey. Trains move fast and baggage-laden people move slow, and the view certainly ain’t too bad here in Boysville. If we miss it, well, we’ll go our separate ways and each catch another one soon. Maybe.

I just wonder where this one is going, you know? 'Cause my restless self never much liked staying in one place for too long.

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Tuesday, July 29, 2003
      ( 2:46 PM ) Rebecca  
Mondays are SO anticlimactic.

Oh wait, it’s Tuesday? I had a three-day weekend? Even worse.

Three days of boys, s*x, hiking, emotional rollercoasters, sun, swimming, writing, living.

And now THIS. I need drugs. I need coffee. I need sugar. I need a lobotomy!

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Saturday, July 26, 2003
      ( 6:49 PM ) Rebecca  
OK, a girl has her limits.

And mine was reached last night when I had to sit inches away from South African Boy, bronzed, muscular, and dripping wet, wearing nothing but a towel.


What, I ask, you, am I supposed to do?

I suppose I could put a moratorium on us swimming laps together (for which, I might add, he wears a Speedo.) “Sorry SAB, but I cannot bear to be in such close proximity with your godlike body any longer!”

Every guy-girl friendship has its moment of truth, no? The point at which one expresses interest in the other, and the other either reciprocates or he doesn’t? But either way, at least the truth is on the table, and you try to make things work from there, right? Well, I’m almost at that point.

As if swimming laps next to me in a Speedo weren’t enough, SAB took me and Galpal #1 out swing dancing the other night. Though I barely knew what I was doing, the firm yet gentle way he swung me around, dipping me, turning me, pushing me away, then pulling me close, made me feel graceful and taken-care of.

Add to that the the fact that he was the best looking man there.

Add to that the fact that I got to hold his hand and touch him.

Add to that the fact that I've always wanted a man who can dance.

And you have one surefire way to reignite le crush de BB on SAB, which has lain dormant these last two weeks as my feelings for IRD have intensified.

I am not so excited about another moment of truth. I just had one of those in New Orleans with Sexy Blue-Eyed Boy. They are necessary sometimes, but tres sucky. Especially if you are the one forcing the truth.

And this is what I think SAB will say.

“BB, I like you, but you work right across the HALL from me. And I am smart enough --- unlike you apparently, which is really crazy because just last summer you thought you were going to DIE because you had to work down the hall from the man who broke your heart – to not date someone who works in such close proximity to me.”

Or he might say, “Huh? Wha'? Me attracted to you? Are you kidding?” Or “Oh yeah, baby, I’ve just been waiting for you to say something!” in which case I would have to make a choice between him and IRD, and how in the world would I do that?

OK, I’m going to admit something here that I’ve never admitted before. This is hard for me, so please be kind. Don’t judge too harshly.

I am Breakup Babe. And I have a commitment problem.

Oh, you knew that already? Hmm. Well good for you.

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Wednesday, July 23, 2003
      ( 8:36 AM ) Rebecca  
So things just continue to get weirder around here.

Last weekend, for example, I plunged unexpectedly into the temperate waters of domesticity, a place I have not been for oh, let’s say, ONE YEAR EXACTLY when I was forced out of the condo I shared with Loseur and into my own sexy bachelorette pad complete with hardwood floors, red lamps, and the Red Couch O’ Love.

Not only did I spend three days straight with Indie Rock Dad (IRD) (not very defensive of me, I admit), one of those days was spent with his three-and-a-half year old daughter.

You’re thinking “Uh-oh. Kids. Is this the Breakup Babe we know? She’s supposed to be writing about cute boys, smoky bars, romantic angst! But kids?!”

Well. You might find this surprising, but BB hearts kids. And kids heart BB. This adorable child was no exception. And in fact, in the way she opened her heart to me so quickly, she reminded me of her father, who seems to have done a complete about face since a month ago.

Once he did, in fact, decide that he wanted to date me (after two weeks of pretending he didn’t), IRD’s true colors emerged. The fact is, he is a romantic. Easily smitten, intensely affectionate, and emotionally vulnerable – he has put his heart right out there on that big dining room table of his for me to stomp on or embrace as I choose.

Just like his utterly charming little daughter, who, an hour after meeting me, wanted nothing more than to hold my hand, play with me, cuddle with me, and later – for me to lie in bed with her and sing her to sleep.

“Will you sing a song to me?” she whispered in the darkness, her little arm thrown around my neck, her hand on my cheek, as she faced me sideways on the bed just like her father does.

It was an odd sort of intimacy. Completely genuine, yet not founded on anything but a day’s worth of knowing me.

Like the outlines of love. Just waiting to be filled in.

The question is, after a year of being on the run, of jumping from boy to boy, can I do this? I’m not as trusting as I used to be, like that little girl who asks a stranger to sing to her in darkness. Once I was, maybe. I believed that if someone said they loved me, they would take care of me always, just like my parents (who sang to me in the dark) have done.

Now, however, post-Loser, I just expect someone to slash my throat.

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Thursday, July 17, 2003
      ( 9:19 AM ) Rebecca  
OK, I agree it’s really not fair.

What’s with me and all these gorgeous males? It might be exaggeration to say they’re swarming. Then again, it might not.

Maybe it’s some kind of karmic retribution for the torture I endured last summer.
Someone’s way of saying, “Congratulations, Breakup Babe, you survived your new job and your broken heart despite [ARCHIVE SCRUB OCCURRED HERE - OUCH!] Not only did you survive, you thrived, and for that I’m sending to you a gift-wrapped bevy of beautiful hommes with whom to enjoy yourself. Bon appetit!”

As if Indie Rock Dad (IRD) and South African Boy (SAB) weren’t enough, just the other night, my mysterious benefactor handed me Adorable Journalist Boy (AJB), a tall, dark-haired drink of water, who’s sweet and hip and -- it goes without saying -- immensely adorable.

Oy. I mean – yay!

The thing is, you all know about my impending train wreck with IRD. I am smitten. With his British accent, his knife-edged cheekbones, his drop-dead smile. And it’s bound to come to no good, because love never does.

And so I am engaged in DefensiveDating ™. To hedge my bets, as they say.

Not that I am officially dating SAB at this point in time. No, we are merely joined at the hip, entertaining each other at work (where he is like bottled sunshine in my windowless office), engaging in datelike activities outside work, but without any of the stuff that might make it messy, or, um, really fun.

It’s quite perfect, really (except I wish, wish WISH he would take his shirt off again). Because we all know what would happen to our workplace lovefest should we get involved and (inevitably) break up. Meanwhile, I get to be the focus of his adoring attentions, which prevents me from investing too much in IRD.

And AJB. Mmm. Am still deciding what to do about that one. Not much time in my schedule, naturally, so I think he can be my Tuesday night date.

I'll also come clean about my other men just so he doesn't fall madly in love with me (until I want him too, that is). He'll be fine with being part of my DefensiveDating ™ coterie; I mean, men want what they can't get, right? And if things go well with IRD, well maybe I'll pass AJB off to a deserving galpal. Until then, he's MINE!

As you might guess, I'm a bit lacking in sleep these days. A concerned reader recently wrote that I should "swear off men and drugs and alcohol until [I] finish [my] book." Now that is sound advice if I've ever heard any!

But who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?
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Tuesday, July 15, 2003
      ( 5:22 PM ) Rebecca  

Something strange is happening.

I had a very romantic time with Indie Rock Dad (IRD) last night. So romantic, in fact, that a forbidden word kept popping into my head.

You know what word I'm talking about. And I want it to go away! I don't want it around! I haven’t let myself think that word or speak that word in a year.

I mean, yeah. I know. Every guy I meet, I think he’s The One for about a week and then I dump him in favor of The Next One.

And there’s been a lot of the other L word. Lust. We like that word around here. Lllllllllllllllllllllust. But have you heard me even mention the that other word once? NO.

And just for the record I’m not saying the L word now either. I’m merely alluding to it.

Because it could just be a case of lust. We all know the tricks lust plays on you. It easily masquerades as the “L” word. I am especially susceptible to lust masquerading as that other thing.

But I swear to God I had that falling in um, you know, feeling last night. It might have been a long time since I’ve felt it but I certainly haven’t forgotten it.

It can only lead to no trouble, I know that much. For one, I don't know if I trust this guy. He was tres squirrely for a while there -- I want you, I want you not. And if he likes me so much, why isn't he more jealous about Breakup Babe's other boys of summer?

I'm probably about to get hit by a train. But oh my, how it feels good to lay down on those tracks, open your arms, and feel the heat and the heaviness and the thrill as it rushes towards you.

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Monday, July 14, 2003
      ( 1:37 PM ) Rebecca  
All righty then!

I recently made the mistake of starting to date someone smart. I also made the mistake of bragging about my blog too much and thowing around catchy phrases with too much abandon.

Let's just say this: Security has been breached.

Indie Rock Dad found the blog. From an e-mail I received this morning.

"Dear R,
While munching my breakfast, I idly typed in "seething mass of contradictions" into Google, since it is such a delightful phrase, and out popped your blog about 3 links down. Oops."


He didn't get angry. He didn't dump me. He, in fact, wrote me a very nice e-mail apologizing for finding it, telling me I was a good writer, and expressing the desire that I didn't dump HIM.

Which of course I don't want to do because I like him a lot, SAB's shoulders be damned. There is a lot more to say on this topic but there is a pressing issue at hand, which is...

What to do about dear old Breakup Babe now that one of the current boys has found it? We all know what happened when I made the mistake of dating someone who read my blog before. Bad. News.

Is it time for a new blog? A new persona? Am I over my breakup enough to become someone else so that I can keep myself hidden from IRD? Or is he just going to be dust in the wind in two weeks anyway, like LRS, MB, SB, HLB, KLG, SBDB, PPB, MMB, CTB, ACB, CGLB?

Help me out my dear readers, because I, for once, am at a loss.
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Friday, July 11, 2003
      ( 5:47 PM ) Rebecca  
Le U.N. Backpacking Trip Part Deux

Anguished moment #1
See Thrilling moment #5 in last entry. As SAB and I exchange massages by the creek, I worry that IRD will appear and:

-Break up our idyll
-Break up with me (after all, I had been making out in the tent with him 15 minutes before).

But, I think, it's just a massage, right? No big deal, right? I'm not a bad person, right?

Except SAB's shoulders are sooooo strong, mmmmm....

Anguished moment #2
Night #2. My affections have shifted, somewhat, from IRD to SAB (Is it just human nature? Perversely wanting what you don't have, the way I wanted IRD so bad before he wanted me? Or is it just SAB's rock hard shoulders?)

IRD and I are sleeping outside. Everyone else is planning to sleep in the tents but haven't gone to bed yet. We've both thrown our sleeping bags on the ground while SAB sits by the fire right next to us.

As soon as I get in my sleeping bag, IRD sweetly cuddles up to me and throws his arm over me -- WHILE SAB IS RIGHT THERE. Well, his arm is hidden in the sleeping bag, but still. I freeze up. Does SAB see? SAB goes to bed and I lie there wondering over and over what, if anything, he saw. Thinking over and over what a mean, awful girl I am.

To Be Continued...
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Thursday, July 10, 2003
      ( 12:16 PM ) Rebecca  
Jeez. Unless I post every five minutes, there's no way to keep up with the ever-changing currents of my fickle heart. So read quick before everything changes yet again!

Le United Nations Backpacking Trip

Thrilling moment #1
Half an hour into the hike, Indie Rock Dad, owner of the outrageously sexy smile, tells me he has now"changed his mind about me" and wants to date. Ow!

Thrilling moments #2,#3,#4
Getting it on with IRD in tiny REI tent. Quietly, of course...

Thrilling moment #5
Massage #1 from South African Boy (SAB) by babbling creek, mountains in distance.

Thrilling moment #6
When I reciprocate and massage his strong, hard, bronzed shoulders, the most beautiful I have seen in years, it's all I can do not to gush "OOhhhhh, your arms, they are sooo STRONG!" and prostrate myself before him.

Thrilling moment #7
Sleeping under stars with SAB. Chastely and innocently, but oh the undercurrent...

Thrilling moment #8
IRD and SAB attempt, together, to throw me into cold rushing river because of my "sarcasm" and Sly but Philosophical Russian Boy (SPRB) rescues me. For a good ten seconds, I am clasped in an intimate embrace with three spectacular specimens of manhood.

[Quote from brilliant blogger Odious Woman on seeing the backpacking pix, "Oh my GOD. They are ALL TOTALLY HOT. How did you not break down and just have a foursome right there in the middle of nowhere?"]

Thrilling moment #9
A shirtless SAB throws me over his broad, bronzed shoulders like I'm nothing but the lightest wisp of female and jumps into azureRoss Lake with me. My seventh grade fantasies come true!

Thrilling moment #10
Massage #2 from SAB at the end of trip, this time in full view of IRD (Are we noticing a trend here?)

And the thrills go on. By night I have dark-haired IRD (tres steamy) by day I have blonde SAB, for coffee, lunch, adoration.

Can I just say, this summer rocks? Especially in comparison to last summer, my GOD.

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Monday, July 07, 2003
      ( 8:45 PM ) Rebecca  
3 nights in mountains + 3 boys [2 of whom am interested in] = 143 mosquito bites, 1 suntan, 2 aching shoulders, 13 stolen kisses, infinite number of happy moments (jagged peaks, aqua lakes, sunlit glades, much attention), 21 anguished moments, and 1 very confused brain.

to be continued...
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Thursday, July 03, 2003
      ( 10:49 PM ) Rebecca  
I should be fast asleep right now, given that I have to get up at five a.m. tomorrow for the United Nations backpacking trip, but I just couldn’t leave you poor little readers in suspense any longer.

1) What happened to Charming But Goofy Lawyer Boy, you’re wondering? 2) Did he ever put out? 3) Did BB make the practical choice, for once, the patient choice, and stay with the nice – if sexless -- boy instead of throwing him over for the sexy but schizophrenic Indie Rock Dad (also known as Seething Mass of Contradictions, or SMC), who claims he just wants to be “friends” but hops all over me every chance he gets?

1. Gone
2. No
3. No

4) And what about South African Boy, whose sunny blonde attentions have made every day at the corporate compound a happy day for BB? Have their daily coffees, lunches, weekend hiking trips turned into anything beyond a fun flirtation? 5) Is there actual potential here?

4. No
5. Even if there were, he works across the hall for crying out loud! Could I POSSIBLY do that to myself AGAIN? (Don't answer that.)

6) And the question first and foremost on your minds? Who is BB going to a share a tent with on the backpacking trip – the cute Brit (IRD) (who knows SAB is flirting with me), the cute South African (SAB) (who knows nothing about my close encounters with IRD), or the cute Russian (no acronym as of yet)?

7)And if BB shares a tent with IRD, who is really the most logical choice, seeing as they already know each other in the Biblical sense, will she lose any chance she might have with SAB?

8) Will there be bloodshed on this backpacking trip?

6) Maybe, as the Yeti suggested, I should sleep with one each night, and compare their "talent."
7) What do you think? I am clearly not in the most fit mental state.
8) I hope so. I mean, I hope not.

Just remember, I am doing my part for world peace this weekend.. What are you doing?

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My novel BreakupBabe is out! You can buy it here.

Check out my author blog here, and my new personal blog here.

Photo by Bradley Hanson

This blog was the inspiration for my novel. It helped me get through a horrible breakup and kept me entertained for years. But all good things must come to an end. I will recycle oldies but goodies from the archives here, but will blog about about writing here, and about all kinds of other stuff here.

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