Moving In Together: Part 3

MT got a text from his buddy who had agreed to help us move in on Saturday. "So you just about picked the worst day ever to move. I'm on my way."

And he was right. Saturday was not the ideal day to move as it was the first snow "storm" of the late fall and early winter months. From pouring rain to what I'd call pouring sleet, with a little bit of actual wet snow mixed in, it was wet, it was chilly and it should have been entirely unpleasant.

But it wasn't. Moving is hard. Some pieces are harder to move then others. Awkward to carry. Heavy. Can't get out of the apartment, down the hall, into the elevator, fit into the Uhaul and then into the new apartment front door and through the hall and to its new rightful spot within the layout. But despite the normal setbacks and difficulties, this move went as smooth as it could possibly go.

Just me, my MT and two of our guy buddies, the four of us packed up MT's place, and then my place and then moved us all in jam packed into our new place. Phew.

MT still has way too much stuff. VHS tapes of The Houseguest and Dumb and Dumber when neither of us has a VCR. Electrical cords to long gone devices. Shirts he's never worn. Books he'll never read. Things he'll never use. And there will come a time that he will need to purge.

But that day wasn't Saturday. Or Sunday. Or today.

We are just happy happy happy. We sit on his coach (now our couch!) in our apartment. Looking at the granite counter tops on the kitchen across the rooms. Staring at the people coming and going on our charming tree lined city street. We look at each other and think how lucky lucky lucky we are to be young, in love and in this adorable home, right in the thick of Adams Morgan.

We'll figure out how to organize the closets - soon. But for now, we just can't believe we live together. And can't believe how right it all feels.

Cheers,

T

Moving In Together: Part 2

The Math Teacher and I are moving in together....tomorrow.

The Uhaul has been rented. All smaller items moved. The bedroom is sort of half painted a blue that he picked out. There is a lot to do.

Hunting for an apartment was exhausting. Finding the right one was exhilarating. Moving will likely be trying. And living together???

Well, I'm starting to think living together will be insanity.

I'm not going to lie. I am nervous. Really, REAAAAALLY nervous. Like cold feet nervous. Is this how brides feel before the jaunt down the altar? Now I see why some are the runaway kind.

I'm excited to live with him. I think we are going to have fun. And fight. And be happy. But...

Living apart makes it easy to keep parts of ourselves and our lives and our routines apart too. His mess annoys me, but before it was his mess in his place. Now it'll be his mess in our place. In my place. But still his place. He has so many pieces of big, bulky, ugly, do not match, old furniture and I hate them all. I feel as though are apartment doesn't have room for all his stuff. But then I know I need to make room in our apartment for him - and his stuff. ahhhhh. What if we fight all the time about cleaning and chores and forgotten locked doors or money and I become a nag and he becomes resentful? Or he doesn't understand it when I just want alone time? Or we can't decide what to watch on tv? Or I do all the cooking and he does all the eating?

I was thinking of this as a no brainer. We spend all our time together. We want to be together. It's convenient, its fun, its exciting, its an adventure.

But the reality has sent in. And I am nervous. And I am scared. And I am definitely having second thoughts. Eep.

Moving In Together - Part 1: Boys are Dirty

As if moving in together didn't have enough challenges, I'd like to grope about two things:

1) Boys are Dirty - this morning I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth. MT had already left for work. And there they were -- teeny tiny 1/8 centimeter hair clippings from when he'd trimmed his beard or shaved his neck or both. All. Over. My. Toothbrush!!!!!! Ahhhhhh!!!!! And what is a girl to do? MT is a regular guy. A guys guy. He's not the grossest. He's a little more grown up than that. He does try to clean. But his cleaning just isn't up to par with my cleaning. And he doesn't notice stuff like hair particles on toothbrushes. But still...its a problem. How am I going to deal with this when we are living together on a daily basis? When my toothbrush is constantly in jeopardy? I don't want to come off like a big nag or his mother. But I'm clean, he's not. This isn't something that's going to go away. It's something he needs to get better at and I need to get more easy going about-- but how to approach the discussion? how to change or adapt your ways? how to compromise? Should he have to pay for the replacement toothbrushes? Ick, ick, ick....

2) We haven't even found an apartment yet!!! And we've given notice to our current apartments as of October 1st to be out October 31st. Yikes! We had little choice given the fact that evil apartment complexes often won't let you move out early or pro-rate your rent when you do. And since after MT and I decided to move in together, we saw about 10,000 apartments posted on craigslist in 5 days and went to almost as many open houses in a week. It was, to be blunt, exhausting!!! But we were just oh so certain we'd find something in the next 5 weeks that we might as well tell our landlords so long suckers!

We put in an application to live in the basement apartment of one townhouse owned by a nice professional 30-something lobbyist who lived upstairs with a roommate. I think the two of us qualified in the sense of criminal, credit and income background checks but I think she just clicked better with another potential tenant.

Now we've put in another application since last Friday with a property management company of a very small building on a gorgeous town-house and tree lined street in the Dupont area that is slow, slow, slow. They just don't seem to have their shit together. And we want to move in! I'm so excited about painting the walls and hanging art and figuring out how to fit all our stuff in the tiny closets. We want it!! Let us in already!!

And what if they deny us too? Then...Back to the exhausting, drive all over town, write a million emails to craigslist address that don't ever get returned- drawing board. Hmph.

Wish me cleanliness and apartment approval. Until then...

Cheers,

T

The Math Teacher: The Prologue

"Math is a lot like love - a simple idea, but it can get complicated..."

Oh my dear readers,

How I abandoned you. And how I am sorry. I kept putting writing off about the Math Teacher because sooooo much was happening and sooo much was happening so fast. The trip to New York City. The shared athletic team meet-ups. Trivia and karaoke nights. Bbqs and camping trips.

He met my parents. I met his siblings.

And then he said I love you one morning. "I love you," he said first thing when I woke up and looked at him. "What?" I said in utter shock and disbelief. "I love you," he said back at me. And I like a complete flabbergasted idiot said: "Well, that's a nice thing to say." Gaaaah! I later apologized and said that I was just surprised. "No one was more surprised than me," he told me back.

And then I said I loved him back.

And then I started staying at his place twice a week instead of one and then 3x a week. Then 5. Then I hadn't been home in 9 days and now....

We are moving in together!

I wish I could have articulated ever kiss. Every wink. Every heartfelt confession. Or described how someone becomes your best friend when you aren't watching. Your confidante. Your rock. But maybe I was too busy being happy to write. Or life was too busy being lived to stop and observe it.

Whatever the case, instead of trying to relive the past, I will try to find you again by contemplating the future. Maybe some of you are still out there to read me, maybe not. But I'll try to re-emerge and find the words, for all those things for which there seem to be no words.

I've missed you all and Cheers,

Toddy.

The Math Teacher: Part 8

"Math is a lot like love - a simple idea, but it can get complicated..."

Once you decide to give someone a chance, to let someone in, to be vulnerable....and more importantly not to put pressure on something...that it be this or that or mean this or that or that he be the...sometimes things just fall into place quietly, softly, subtly...without your even knowing.

I don't think I realized how much I liked the Math Teacher. I refused to call him by his real name. I referred to him as simply "The Math Teacher" or "MT" to even my closest friends. "You don't name the puppy," I would often say (a lesson I learned from an oft lovesick girl friend). "You don't name the puppy....otherwise you'll feel like it belongs to you. It is someone. It means something to you. And then you'll want to take it home with you."

Even though I had committed to giving him an honest to goodness shot at really dating, I really didn't let myself think I liked him all that much. But I must have liked him enough...

When it came time to visit New York City for a friend's birthday, I couldn't help but invite him along. "Taking a trip together eh?" one friend asked. "That's kind of serious this soon isn't it?" "Not really," I replied nonchalantly and shrugged. "He's just....he's just....good company." And I meant that. I did. He really was....good. company.

But what did that mean? That I thought he was good company. That he was good company, for me. That I wanted him to come with me. That I somehow knew I wouldn't have as good a time without him.

And so we went to NYC. We met at the Chinatown Bus pickup point on H street near Gallery Place Chinatown metro. He had a small bag of luggage and so did I. In a way it was strange that we were going on a trip together. And in another way, it wasn't strange at all. It just made sense. He was good company and therefore we were travel companions.

I wish I knew how to explain the feeling of what happened next. But its hard. The ease. The comfort. The laughter. The perfect contentment. It was the shortest 5 hour bus ride of my life. After getting on we commenced our talk, talk, talking. Because you see, with us, there is never a shortage of conversation. The topics flow and stop and start and intertwine. No subject matter ever really finds completion. No inside joke ever loses its original wit. I told him I was an avid scrabble player and that I'd recently become obsessed with playing Words With Friends on my phone versus friends in real life and virtual friends whom Id never met. He was intrigued.

He doesn't have an iPhone so it took some time to figure out how to download WWF onto his phone. And then it also took some maneuvering to figure out how to challenge each other to play. You see, we weren't even facebook friends. I don't know why. He thought this was funny and thought we should remain facebook strangers. So instead we gave him a twitter account. (he didn't have a twitter account!!!) and he found me and was able to challenge me that way.

We played WWF for hours. Trash talking. Concentrating. In silence. And then not. At first I kicked his ass. But slowly, word by word, game by game, it became apparent that The Math Teacher, might not just have a nack for numbers. He had some background in Latin. He had an extensive vocabulary. The mathematics training helped him see patterns in the letters. It was almost ironic how he, the MT began to demolish me beyond all humility, beyond all reason. It made me angry. It made me intrigued. It made me turned on. There was more to this guy than I realized.

When our phones died we created our own version of taboo mixed with charades and made funny faces and gave hysterical word clues and laughed and laughed and laughed. We arrived to the City as if we'd only been commuting from just outside. It was - the easiest, most pleasurable bus ride of my life.

What could that mean? Or did it mean anything? It couldn't not.

The Math Teacher: Part 7

"Math is a lot like love - a simple idea, but it can get complicated..."

After the Math Teacher left the Chinese restaurant for a friend's bbq I was pretty deflated. But at some point I had to get over it. I had to work the next day (Saturday), per usual and the following day (Sunday) per usual. Which is to say, because I work so much, I have to get my jollies in while I can. I need to be around my friends and tried to decompress. So even though things with the Math Teacher weren't going as well as I would have liked, and even though he had left, now was the time to have some funwhile I still could. Even if I had to rev myself up to do it - to convince myself I was actually happy.

"Let's get to the karaoke place," I told my friends. "I want to....EMOTE!" "Emote?" one friend said. "What do you mean 'emote'?" "I mean I want to SING my soul. I want to belt it out. I want to feel it. I want to -- EMOTE!!!" "Okay then, whatever you say," my friend said and waved their arm wildly in a gesture to the group that seemed to round them up and head them all towards the door.

When we got to the karaoke place, things were in full swing. A large group of drunken friends, out for a birthday or some other event were really going at in on the small stage in the back. My friend Jenny and I did some espresso tequila shots (don't ask, just know they are delicious) and settled into the bar stools as we perused the song menu.

What followed is what usually follows on a karaoke night out with friends. Some good singing, some bad tunes and then also a few memorably horrific performances. Beers and mixed drinks and a round or two of shots quickly becomes a shitshow of botched harmonies and hipthrusts and somehow you end up telling everyone there, even those you've never met how, much you love them, man. Except sometimes something out of the ordinary happens....

I don't know what time he got there. He could've been there half an hour or five minutes. But the Math Teacher came back, a friend in tow. A guy friend in tow, not to worry. I tried to make small talk with the friend but I was a little wasted. Or a lot. Frankly, I hadn't expected the Math Teacher to reappear so I had gone ahead and let myself go. Pretty literally. But seeing him was having a sobering effect. I was glad he had come back. And I couldn't help but wonder if he'd come back especially for me.

After MT's friend left we sat down on a couch up against the wall, crammed in between two of our other friends. It was cozy. (To say the least). I don't know at what point we started making out. But we did. And then one of us got up to get a drink or go to the bathroom, but somehow we were separated. I went over to talk to my friend Amanda. "He's pretty cute isn't it?" I said more than asked. "Yeah, he is," she agreed." "I think I like him," I admitted tentatively. "Good," she said. "He's a really nice guy." "I know," I said.

And then I talked to my friend Spencer who had been there the night that I first hooked up with MT. Spencer and MT were friends before I knew either of them all that well. "You've gotta tell me," I started to Spence. "Honestly. You've gotta tell me if he's playing me," I pleaded with him. "He's not playing with you," he said. "Honestly." "He never was." "Then why did he go home with me that night?" I asked more impatiently. "I don't know," he said. "He thought you were fun. And cool. And hot. But it doesn't matter. He likes you now. He really does." "But how do you know?" I almost whined. "Because he told me. He likes you a lot. He's just worried he's the rebound guy. He doesn't want to be." "But he IS the rebound guy. I mean, isn't he?" "He doesn't have to be you know." "But he just IS!"

"Is he?" Spencer finished just as MT was coming back over to meet us. "Whether or not he is or is not the rebound guy, is entirely up to you you know."

And then MT was by my side again -tall and handsome, gentle and kind. He smiled at me, leaned over and kissed me on the side of the face. It felt nice. Comforting. He took my hand in his and whispered in my ear: "Do you want to get out of here?" I nodded.

I don't remember saying goodbye to anyone. I just remember leaving. With him. Hand in hand. We waited outside for a cab on the sidewalk.

And I was nervous. Because somehow, some way, after losing my self-believed Mr. Unicorn and having my heart shattered completely, I had found a way to open myself up again. To the possibility of someone else. To the possibility of loving again. And to hoping and wanting and wishing, that someone great, just might fall in love with me back. I had fought my feelings for the Math Teacher for a long time. I wouldn't let myself get too close. I wouldn't let myself feel anything for him. But sometimes the heart is smarter than the mind. Or at the very least, its more stubborn. The Math Teacher had weaseled his way in and I didn't want him to go. I was going to give him a chance. This, a real chance. I wasn't sure if I was going to love him. Or could love him. Or wanted to love him. Or if we were right for each other. But I was going to stop fighting it and just let things happen.

I guess I was taking some shallow breaths because MT asked me if I was okay. "I'm okay," I said. "I think I'm just nervous." And then he said something, I would have never expected: "What makes you think I'm not nervous too?". Which surprised me. Because I think he actually meant it. It had never occurred to me (after all the pain and disappointment that men had caused me) that he was taking a chance on me too. That he wanted to be with someone too. And though this didn't calm my nerves, it did make me feel less alone.

And so we waited. In the warm spring air that lazily drifting by as it headed towards the summer. While the possibility of our new romance, thickly hung all around us.

The Math Teacher: Part 6

"Math is a lot like love - a simple idea, but it can get complicated..."

I was nervous about seeing The Math Teacher that Friday afternoon. After all, I had blown him off the night before when we were supposed to have a dinner date. And it wasn't the first time. It was the second. Eeech. Not good. Everyone was convinced that I didn't really like him. That he was just a distraction. That I was convincing myself I liked him. Maybe I was. But then again...

I got off work at 4pm. Pretty much unheard of at my office. But I didn't care. This was more important somehow.

I met him at the metro a few blocks from my office. And he looked goooood. There's one thing about this guy that can't be denied - he is an attractive man. Tall and lean. Tan. Longish, roughed up hair. He even has nice fingernails and feet. It's a little intimidating.

He was quieter than usual. I'm sure I confused him. I'm sure I had hurt him. I'm sure he didn't know quite what to make of me. But neither did I you know? I was a mess. A tired, stressed, overworked, overcaffeinated, recently dumped mess. I didn't know anything. Least of all anything useful about who I was at any given moment or what I wanted.

We road the train to Clarendon to meet our friends. I was nervous and talked too much. He smiled and laughed appropriately but wasn't as giving of himself as usual.

We got to the Chinese restaurant before our friends. We took two stools along the bar and ordered beers. Despite the slight awkwardness, (being the elephant in the room that was my repeated cancellation of our dates), the one thing that had always been there between us (an ability to talk about anything), once again saved the day and before long we were chit chatting like old friends again.

Then our friends came along. One by one, and three at a time and then a half a dozen at once. We sat apart from one another and caught up with our friends on our own and in our own time. But there were glances. From our friends at us. And from us at each other.

Before two long, MT got up. He started saying goodbye to people. I wasn't sure exactly why he was leaving. He came over to me last.

"I have to go," he said. "Oh really?" I said the disappointment apparent in my voice. I did mean it. I really did. I didn't want him to go. "Yeah, I have a friend's barbecue thing. I'm trying to set up my buddy with an old college friend." "Oh," I said, still disappointed. "Will you come back?" I asked hopefully. "I'm not sure," he said and I could see and tell that he was hurt and confused by my recent behavior and that being around me might not be as fun as it should be if we were dating on mutually, respectful ground.

"I'm really sorry you know?" I said out of nowhere. "Are you?" he asked almost bitterly. "Yes. yes I am," I said sincerely. "I feel like shit." "Do you?" he asked, again still sounding unconvinced. "Yes, I really do feel like shit. I wanted to go to dinner with you last night. I really did. I just couldn't. I'm sorry." "Listen," he said, a little kinder - "maybe from now on if you want to do something with me, you should call me."

Ouch. That one hurt a little.

"But you don't want to. Do you?" he continued. "Of course I do," I said. He shook his head slightly. "I gotta go," he said finally. "Try to come back," I said. "We'll see," he said and gathered his friend and said a last farewell to the group. He walk out the front door and I watched him walk away from the restaurant and then around the corner through the restaurant's glass windows until he was out of sight.

And I felt regret in my stomach. Had I blown it? Had I thrown away this great guy who treated me amazing because I was a complete brat? Because of Fuckface David? Because I didn't know how to love the right guy? Because I didn't let the right guys love me? I wasn't sure. I did know that I felt awful.

Everyone at the table knew something was wrong.

My friend Mike who can be a bit crass said: "What are you so upset about for? Isn't he supposed to be the rebound guy?"

"He was," I said and then paused. "But he just won't bound. He just stays."

"I'd love it if some girl wanted to use me as the rebound guy. I tell her - 'no problem, just let me know when you're done with me and I'll be on my way'."

"Wow, that's great Mike. Very helpful."

But I actually like him. I think. But I've blown him off and treated him poorly and now he's really pissed. I didn't even know MT could get pissed. I don't know anything...

And so I sulked for a little bit, deeply lost in my own thoughts. Was I upset because I wanted to like him and didn't? Or was I upset because I liked him but wasn't ready for him? Or upset because I liked him and was pushing him away for reasons I couldn't fathom?

It just wasn't clear. Nothing really was. Except that the Math Teacher had left the restaurant without me. And I wished he hadn't.

To be continued...

The Math Teacher: Part UNKNOWN

"Math is a lot like love - a simple idea, but it can get complicated..."

We set out into the dusky muggy, drip-droppy drizzy Dupont night to find some food for the Math Teacher. He had recently had dental surgery and the diet of soft and liquid food was starting to wear on him.

"Where can I take you?" I said to him aloud. "What do you feel like?" I asked him. "Soup is probably a good idea" he said and kind of shrugged, his arm wrapped around me casually. "Ooooh, I know," I told him. "I've got the perfect place."

We strolled along 18th street along the east of the Circle talking and laughing and making faces at one another. He kept trying to kiss me with his tender or perhaps even gross post-op mouth and I kept pulling away in horror and laughing.

Amidst the normalcy and fun and yes, for the first time in a long time, giddy happiness, I realized, with dread, that we were approaching an unhappy spot. The spot where I got dumped. Just walking toward it. Closer and closer and closer...

Isn't it amazing, and even unfortunate, how a location or smell or person or activity can make the vividness of its corresponding memory flood back over you? All the details. All the pain. The look on his face. The way he tried to rub my back but I pulled away. The things he said. Him walking away.

"We're having such a nice time. I don't know sometimes whether I should tell you stuff or not. But then sometimes telling you the bad stuff makes it less bad you know? I can sort of throw it away? Or at least you just know all about me. The things that I've been through."

"Just tell me..." he said. So I did. He put his arms around me tighter. "That's tough," he acknowledged giving me a little squeeze.

We went on to dinner at the deliciously Korean, spectacularly serviced Mandu where we sat and talked and ate and laugh and lingered with no sense of anywhere to be anywhere else anytime soon. I ordered the spicy soup, "extra extra" spicy and we all were hesitant as I took my first bites. Both the waitress and the MT were hoping I would be in for disastrous consequences for ordering my soup "kill me hot," but I prevailed. "It could be spicier," I commented nonchalantly and gave a "hah" look at them both. Then, I cut up MT's dumplings into baby bite size pieces with my chop sticks so he could better handle them with his "injury" and we both told stories of how we love driving and road trips and one time where he got stuck driving near a cliff and had to call AAA.

When it was time to go we headed down the street, the drizzle a little more prevalent. "You realize you're carrying a little leopard print umbrella?" I asked him entirely amused. "If I were by myself, it might seem a little strange," he admitted, "but with you I can get away with it."

We continued on, until that spot, the dumping spot, was in my sights again. "Ugh," I thought, "if only I could get passed this. Him. The Dumping. The dumping spot. All of it." Then I got an idea...

"I want you to help me make a new memory of this spot," I said. "Because its otherwise such a lovely place and I pass by it all the time." "Okay," MT said. (as willing to do whatever I asked or needed or wanted as ever.) "What do you want to do?" I walked over to the rock ledge that I had sat on while being told exactly why I wasn't the right person for and by the one person I had ever thought was the right person for me. I stood on it this time and gestured MT to come near me. "Kiss me" I said with my arms stretched out wide overdramatically. "O" -"kay" he said with gusto. He came over and put his arms around my waist. I leaned into him and gave him a sweet, gentle kiss. And then...

We both looked over toward the street. There was a young guy (maybe 20?) in the backseat of a car with the window rolled down taking our picture. What?

"Hi guys!!" he said waving with one hand still taking a picture. "Hi" I said hesitantly waving back and smiling confusedly as he and his friends in the front seat burst into laughter and then drove off.

"What was that??" MT looked at me incredulously. "I don't know!" I responded bewildered. "Were they high," he wondered? "Or drunk?" I added. "Although they didn't seem that drunk," I continued... "Maybe they were on a scavenger hunt?" I pondered hopefully. "Come on!"he said with a crooked smile, "a scavenger hunt?" "Okay, okay, I don't know then. We weren't kissing crazy. We aren't dressed crazy. We don't look like a weird couple do we?"

"You know what I think it was," I finally determined. "What?" he asked me seriously. "A sign," I said. "A sign not to take life or one's self too seriously. You sit on a ledge you get dumped. You stand on a ledge kissing someone and some crazy teenagers or scavenger hunting frat boys take your picture. It's just all a little ridiculous."

"Well one thing is for sure," MT said. "What's that?" I asked him. "You wanted a new memory and you got one. Now it's the spot where the creepy dude took your picture."

And he was right. A new memory. And lots of other new memories that night too. Because you never know when a creepy dude is around the corner to make you feel a whole lot better about a whole heck of a lot....

To new memories and cheers,
T

The Math Teacher: Part 5

After jolting from MT's bedroom like steam from a kettle, I might've thought about what that all meant if I didn't have to work a 10 hour day on a Sunday the following day. Hungover. Okay...really hungover. And then the 12 hour work days Monday through Thursday blurred together like one and the same until five days had gone by without even thinking about the Math Teacher. Or David either for that matter.

Then Thursday arrived and I was supposed to have dinner with him. He had texted at some point and suggested a little Middle Eastern place he'd been wanting to try and if I was up for it did I wanna go? I had said yes, but as the day arrived, I grew more and more tired. I was EXHAUSTED. I am ALWAYS exhausted it seems.

"I think I have to cancel for tonight," I told my co-worker Amber. "Not again!" she almost shouted at me. "You cannot cancel on him again." He will NEVER go out with you EVER again if you do this to him twice. It's not cool. It's not nice. Its....RUDE."

"I know, I know it is," I whimpered. "But I could barely keep my eyes awake in that meeting. And we have hours left to go in this day. I hate being this tired. I hate it. I really am this tired. I swear!"

Then I told my co-worker John about my plan. I needed a second opinion: "I'll just say I was stuck here. Stuck in a meeting. I couldn't leave. And say I feel really REALLY bad about it." "I mean, it doesn't really matter what you say," he replied. "It's obvious you just don't like the guy. Obvious to me. And it will be obvious to him."

But hearing those words. I realized it wasn't true. Because if I really didn't like the guy, I wouldn't be trying to think up the perfect excuse. I wouldn't be worried that he'd never go out with me again. I would assume that he would think and assume I didn't like him and stop asking me out and I'd stop going out with him and that would be that. But that's not how I felt. I felt REALLY, really, really conflicted. Conflicted between my complete and utter exhaustion and inability to do nothing and my desire to go spend time with him. I really did want to have dinner. So much so that I was still considering going - despite my growing weariness and hopelessness at life.

"If you're gonna bail, tell him now," Amber said. "It's not fair to him." "I know, I know, I know," I said. But what if I feel better later and change my mind?" Amber just looked at me. With that bitchy, no-nonsense, handle your business look of hers that said: "Tell him now. The end."

So I texted him. That I was stuck in a meeting and I was REALLY disappointed but I wouldn't be able to make dinner that night. But that I knew our friends were getting together for happy hour and then karaoke the next day (Friday) and that I was hoping he was going and that we could go together. Perhaps he could meet me at the metro near my office. I usually get off work between 7 and 8 but I would get off at 4 and we could get there before anyone else and spend some time together before the whole gang arrived. How did that sound?

He said it was really too bad about dinner. But he would meet me. And we would go together. "Thank you for understanding," I told him. But I could tell, he wasn't as patient and unaffected as he had been the last time.

I got off work at 8pm. I was too tired for the walking and the metro and the bus so I hailed a cab and paid the $15 to get home just a little bit sooner and without any effort. Just sitting there. Defeated. Downtrodden. Disjointed.

I did not stop Go. I did not collect dinner. Or a conversation with the roommates. I went directly to the bedroom and collapsed into the pillows - my own kind of heaven, but my own kind of jail. I couldn't escape my confused thoughts and my put-upon heart. I lay there, thinking "damn." "Damn, damn, damn, damn." "I should've gone to dinner....there's something about him..." And I was worried, for the first time - that I might lose him. This amazing guy who had grit. Who stayed. Who never faltered. Who let me be me. And liked me. And who was so good looking that no one would ever kick him out of bed for eating crackers. And I started to get the sinking feeling that I had ruined something that could be something - maybe even something good.

To be continued...

The Math Teacher: Part 4

"Math is like love - a simple idea, but it can get complicated."

After being outside in Baltimore at the Preakness Horse Race all day, my group of friends continued on to another bar to party. After hours and hours of being there, I was tired and a little sun burnt and a little drunk. The Math Teacher and I looked around and realized that all of our friends had left us and gone home. I wasn't sure if they had even said goodbye. We had gotten lost in conversation for who knows how long.

We left the bar and got a cab. We decided to go to his place, with the understanding that I was in fact tired. burnt. and nothing was going to be happening. And he was fine with it. But by the time I got to his house and into his sport clothes (which happen to be super baggy on me and completely ridiculous looking) and lay down in his arms, I suddenly felt suffocated and trapped. I had to work the next day (yes I work on Sundays, every Sunday, fml) and I wanted to go home and shower the dirt and suntan lotion and long day off me and go to bed - ALONE-. And get some real sleep. And get up in the morning surrounded by my clothes and my things before heading into work inevitably hungover.

"I'll give you a shirt in the morning, " he said. "And you can shower, just relax."

He is always saying that to me. "just relax." But I don't WANNA relax. Or maybe I need to. Or should. Or just can't.

We went through his closet and I tried on everything he owns that I could wear over jeans to work on a Sunday. Button down shirts mostly. He is 6'3 and I am 5'7. Needless to say, I was swarming in stripes. I looked at him and shook my head. "You know this isn't going to work right?" "I know," he said. "I'll walk you down and get you in a cab."

And he did.

Things just hours earlier had seemed so right. So easy. What was my problem? Why couldn't I just lay down in the arms of a man - who seemed to truly be that - a. man. And let him hold me. And care about me. The whole night through. I wanted so much to want to be with him. I wanted so much to be over David. But some days, are just so much harder than others. And confusing. And at that moment in time, I had to get out of there and be alone.

There's nothing I can do about it. The sadness ebbs and flows. The new found feelings for MT come and go just the same. And I seem to have control over none of it, but instead, I am victim to the unpredictable tidal waves of feeling that continue to wash over me without any relief.

The Math Teacher: Part 3

“Math is like love -- a simple idea but it can get complicated.” "

After bowling, I felt guilty about the way I'd been treating The Math Teacher. It wasn't who wanted to be as a person in general and certainly not the way I wanted to treat someone pertaining to matters of the heart. Particularly when someone else so recently had been so careless with my own emotions.


On the following Saturday we went to the Preakness horse race with a large group of our friends. The girls wore sundresses and the guys wore shorts. We drank beer and rum and mimosas in a grassy spot by the race track on the infield. I lay on a blanket in the sunshine and took in deep breaths of warm air. It was the most relaxed I'd been in months.


The Math Teacher sat down beside me. Put his arms around me and we fell asleep.


We woke up some time later. Our friends laughing at us and teasing us saying some such nonsense or another. We sat up half-awake brushing hair and blades of grass out of our eyes and hair.


"Why don't you admit that you like each other?" our friend The Canadian said.

"What do you mean? We do like each other," I responded.

"Well then what are you?" The Canadian said.

"I don't know. We don't know,"I said. Which was true. I didn't know how he felt about me. I didn't know how I felt about him. We were nothing. Yet we were something. It was all a bit strange.


We got up and walked around the park holding hands - me with my Math Teacher and caught wondering how things can change so fast. Who you hold hands with. Who you like or don't like. How you feel. And I guess that's a good thing. Even when it's not.


Cheers,

T

The Math Teacher: Part 2

I can't sleep tonight. Usually it's because I'm thinking about the Ex-boyfriend. Usually it's because I can't believe things didn't work out with David. But tonight, I'm thinking about the Math Teacher. Surprising, I know. I'm not sure how I feel about him. I'm not sure what will happen. Of course I'm not ready. And I wasn't ready. And I won't be ready. Not for awhile anyways. But I think you should know the truth about him. The truth that he might just be... a good guy.

So - we went bowling. Two Fridays ago. Or maybe it was three. Time when you are working like a dog, 7 days a week, 11 hours a day and your heart is full of lost love can be an impossible thing to keep track of. I am tired and I am delirious. And I thought of canceling (for the second time) on the Math Teacher. But I didn't. How could I do that? That would make me, well, just an inconsiderate asshole. So - I went bowling.

Now I did of course share a bottle of wine with my coworker Amber before I headed to meet him at Lucky Strike at the Verizon Center in Chinatown. And I did of course pop into Clyde's to down a glass of white wine like it was really my job and I was billing $300 to drink it. I was a little tipsy for this date. A little sedated. Because as we all know by now, I wasn't ready. And yet - I went bowling.

And he was there waiting. As always. On time. And he paid for our shoes and for our games. Even though it is CRAZY expensive to bowl at Lucky Strike. I know its a cool place with a bar and music and food and ambiance but still...its bowling people! some things should remain pure, but I digress.

And we played and I was awful. And he was slightly less awful. And it was fun. Actual, pure, non-sexual, not even that romantic --- fun. It was just nice you know? To hang out with someone. To do something stupid and random and silly and whatever. Bowling is always good for that. Isn't it?

He bet me that if he won I had to eat a pickle. (I hate - HATE - pickles with a passion. Ask me about it some time). I bet him that if I won a game he would have to wear this translucent white shirt he owns from his days in Miami out with our friends some time. Betting is fun. Flirtatious. Pointless. Delicious.

Some of you have wondered how it is that I've treated him so poorly...I think its just that I'm so flippant and ambivalent and lackadaisical. Like when we were done I just handed him my shoes to return without saying thank you and said I was going to the restroom. That's not like me. I'm nice and polite and considerate. And treat people like human beings. Instead I treated him like my waiter, my meal ticket, my doormat. Just in my attitude. In my words. In my subtle actions. I'm not proud of this. But it is true.

He said he was hungry. He is ALWAYS hungry. But he is SUPER TALL and very fit and trim and so I can see how his metabolism is like that. I wish my body were like that. I eat nothing and am not hungry ever and yet I still carry the pounds. It sucks. But I digress again...

We went downstairs to Thai Chili. I love that place. It was my suggestion. I said I wasn't hungry but then I proceeded to eat half his Pad Thai without asking. (I know that is SO annoying for guys). We each had a beer. On four square I saw that my friends were nearby. I told them to join us.

Let me repeat that in case you didn't get it - I invited two girls to join us on our date. hah. Our third date. The four of us. Classic.

They showed up and I acted surprised to see them. They said they were going to Rocket Bar across the street. I said "OF COURSE WE ARE COMING!!!" I didn't even ask him. He paid the bill and followed me like a puppy. We went across the street. And I in drunken enthusiasm caught up with my two girl friends and one guy friend who joined us for the first time in a long time. Mostly we talked about the boy problems the two girls were having. For once, I was glad that they boy problems weren't my own.

The MT sat there and listened. And asked questions. And engaged. He was nice. Really nice. I don't even know if I spoke one word to him for hours. I hadn't even noticed that he was still there. Finally he got up and said he was leaving. It was late and he had to get up. I didn't even stand up to hug him or kiss him goodbye. I didn't even say thank you. To put it bluntly... I was a bitch. I waved my hand in the air nonchalantly and said " Okay...BYE!"

When he was gone my girl friends gushed and gushed about him. They said I had taken a step up in every way. In looks, in personality, in the way he treated me. "But he's just the rebound guy," I said with no feeling. But they could not be persuaded to believe that, though it was true. Then we talk and drank for what seemed like hours. I got completely sauced and I remember them asking me if I had money and putting me in a cab.

It was marvelous. Really and truly. I know all this drinking and abusing men isn't healthy. But it was good to see old friends. Friends I'd seen less of to spend time with David's friends. Friends who think I'm fun. And nice. And worthy. Friends who have an opinion on who I date. Friends who don't judge. And who put me in a cab and tell me it's time to go home.

And I remember thinking in the morning what an ass I was. And also, that maybe, just maybe, The Math Teacher...was actually...a good guy.

Why I Don't Hate (and Kinda Like) the Math Teacher

So maybe he doesn't sound like the greatest guy. But then again, you don't know the whole story...

Sunday

After having been dumped by Fuckface, sad and upset and drunk, and blowing off some mad steam, I hooked up with the Math Teacher. It was my decision. I stand by it. He seemed like a nice, fun, harmless guy in my group of friends. He told me I was beautiful and sexy about five million times. Super validating. When I decided it was time for me to leave, he wanted me to stay. But I wanted to go. He walked me down to the street and put me in a cab. And texted me to make sure I got home safe.

Wednesday

When out with all our mutual friends, he didn't act like anything had happened. He didn't kiss and tell. He said nothing. That - while should be the way people always are with personal, private matters such as these - is not the way they often are. He didn't brag. He didn't try to get more out of me. We talked like friends. We laughed about Sunday. We walked down the street together at the end of the night. I got in a cab. I went home.

Friday

Out for a friend's birthday two days later, the whole gang went crazy all over town. We drank and danced. I was too drunk (again) and tired and sad. I made out with the Math Teacher half the night. And danced with him. At the end of the night, I said I wouldn't go home with him. I told him - I'm tired. And I'm sad. "I don't want to hook up with you." "That's okay," he said. "Come over anyways...I'll take care of you." And he did. I went over and nothing happened. Not even more kissing. He held me ALL night. ALL night. I don't think Fuckface ever did that. He was always too hot or too tired or couldn't get comfortable. In the morning he made me breakfast and we watched a movie. A "Rock" movie. Random. He walked me down to the street again so we could get a cab. "Maybe we should go on a date?" he asked. I thought this a really weird, unlikely turn of events. "Sure," I had said. What did I have to lose? What else did I have to do?

Wednesday

He took me to Founding Farmers for dinner. The conversation was random and funny and good. He paid. I had a moment in the restroom where I was looking in the mirror and for the first time in awhile now, I was having fun. I felt good about myself again. We had the lamest, worst peck of a kiss outside a cab and I went home alone.

Sunday

He hadn't called. Or texted. Or emailed. Oh well, I had thought. I guess he didn't like me. It doesn't really matter, because I didn't like him. Not really. I mean, I don't even know him. And I'm a heartbroken trainwreck. We'll just be friends. No biggie. But I saw him out, with all my friends again. He was attentive. He asked me if I wanted to go bowling the next week. I said: "You wanna go out with me again?" "Why wouldn't I?" he asked incredulously. "Didn't we have fun?" "Yes. We did." I said back. And that is true. We really did - have a good time. "But you didn't call me," I said casually. "OH," he said for a moment. "Well I knew I'd see you here." "That's not good enough," I said. "You have to call or text after a date." "I'm an idiot," he said. "I can text you. I'll text you all the time." "Alright, we'll go bowling," I agreed.

Monday-Friday

He texted me. A lot. Every day. All day. About nothing in particular.

Friday

I blew him off for bowling. I was too tired and depressed in reality. I told him I was sick.

Saturday-Tuesday

He texted me all day every day. Asking me how I was feeling. What symptoms I was having. Was I eating anything? Tuesday he rescheduled our date. Instead of bowling we had dinner.

Thursday

Dinner at Darlington House in Dupont. Again he paid. Again the conversation was good. We went back to his place and watched some tv and made out a little. Nothing major. I told him that I thought he had the wrong idea about me. Because our first encounter was so casual. And that on top of that I was a mess and just broke up with someone and didn't know if I was able to really do anything with him. He said he didn't expect anything. "But I'm a mess!" I urged him to comprehend. "You are kind of a mess," he said. "I'm not fun right now," I said. "Let me decide what is fun," he said.

Saturday

He told me he stopped seeing another girl (a girl I knew he was also seeing, I just didn't care) because he wanted to be with me. I told him he didn't have to do that. That I hadn't asked him to do that. That we weren't ANYTHING. That we were "cool." "I don't wanna be cool," he said. "But we are," I simply repeated again.

Sunday

I was hanging out with our mutual friends. "What's going on with you and the Math Teacher?" one mutual guy friend wanted to know. "I don't know. Nothing," I said. "You hang out all the time," the friend came back at me with curiosity... "He actually likes you. He's just worried about being the rebound guy." "But he IS the rebound guy. Isn't he?"

Tuesday

We rescheduled our bowling date for Friday night.

Friday

Tomorrow night we're going bowling.

In short, I don't know why everyone reading this blog hates him so much. Yeah we hooked up. Maybe that was lame of him. Yeah I'm sad and depressed and often drunk and maybe not ready to date. But I was honest with him. And you know what - we've been SORTA hanging out/dating for 5 weeks. 5 weeks! And I haven't done anything but 13 year old PG kissing since that first night. And he's still dating me?????!!!!! Maybe I'm the greatest hookup he's ever had in his life and he MUST HAVE A REPEAT OR DIE (which I find really unlikely) or maybe he likes me??? I don't know guys. What I do know is:

I don't give a shit. I'm tired of being tired. I'm tired of being sad. I'm tired of being alone. I'm tried of having no fun. He is fun. And funny. And nice. And a distraction. And treats me WELL ENOUGH. And did I mention he was TALL and HOT???

So there you go...don't hate on the Math Teacher. Because I don't.

Cheers,

T

Why I Hate the Math Teacher

WHY I HATE THE MATH TEACHER

GUEST POST BY ANDY WHITE

*@andywhitedc is a DC resident, author and social media manager. His first guest post depicting yet another bad date and entitled "The Layers" can be found here. His second and third posts, also about a bad date (see any patterns here hmm??) "Muted Lights, Small City" and Two's Company, Four's a Bitch can be found here and here. In case it wasn't obvious from the entry's title, Andy doesn't like the new guy I've been dating. It's not serious, I'm completely on the rebound and I don't even treat him well. So I'm not sure why Andy's so against him but here are his thoughts on Mr. H anyhow...

Why 'the teacher' is everything that is wrong with men in today's society:

I recently posted a comment that indicated my dislike for 'the teacher' in succinct and somewhat blunt terms. A 'Heather' responded indicating a desire to see this blown out into something more substantial Heather, this is for you:

The teacher represents a crawling manifestation of everything we seek to avoid as we traipse through the human experience. At first, and in small doses, this man is amenable and sometimes even affable. He is at the outer extremities of your group, the type of rogue with whom you would never hang out 1 one 1, but he's always there, always looking. Angular and awkward in construction, there's a sharp movement in his step, as though always ready to slip his hand somewhere unwanted.

He will go for the weak and the vulnerable. Recently broken up, emotionally damaged, desperate for affirmation of their beauty; that they are thin, that they can get over it, that they do actually like giving head, really, truly. That's his specialty, that's his wheelhouse.

In this particular instance our villain knew of the pain dear MM was going through. This was out in the open and it was clear and it was very true. He sat there, he said the right things, he put a consoling hand on a damaged knee. He saw a girl that was at her very lowest ebb, a girl that needed an arm, a hug, words in her ear to let her know everything will be alright. Really. She was desperate for someone to push $20 into the hand of a cabbie and send her home. She was desperate for someone to care, for someone selfless, for someone who didn't think with his vile wick.

He was none of those things. He was her worst nightmare that night.

Lest we forget the group of friends that were present that evening, and I for one will never forgive, never forget. They saw first-hand his moves, his lines, his darting tongue and thin words. They could have surrounded MM like on the Serengeti and ushered him back to the dark visages of his mind, from where he came and where he will ultimately return. But they didn't. They were complicate. They pushed MM into the waiting clutches of a man designed to suck the life out of those around him because he knows of nothing but pain.

That's probably why I hate 'the teacher' and everything he represents. Scum.

The Math Teacher - Part 1

A mutual friend - "He actually likes you."

Me - "He does?"

The mutual friend - "Yes he does. He's just afraid of being the rebound guy."

Me - "But he is the rebound guy."

Friend - "Sometimes a rebound guy becomes a not-a-rebound guy."

Me - "But, I'm a mess."

Friend - "You are kind of a mess."

To Date or Not to Date - Part 2

What did I decide to do? Drum roll please....

Not to Date.

Fail.

Anyways, I sent the Math Teacher a text message around 2pm (about 6 hours before our date) on a Friday night stating the following: "Hey, hope you are having a great day. I hate to cancel on you late notice but I'm totally exhausted and not feeling great and so I'd rather reschedule."

What did I do instead? Nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing. I was completely lame. And boring. And, well, lame. I wore sweatpants, ate pasta and drank wine. I am not proud of this fact, but it is what it is. I also watched 10 episodes of a British miniseries on Netflix. Which makes me quadruple-ey lame. I know.

At any rate, I had to work again on Saturday from 9-6. I came home and did NOTHING yet again. And then Sunday I had a long day of taking care of the MOM with brunch (it was FANTASTIC at 701 outside overlooking the National Archives building and the Navy memorial equipped with fountains and a temporary ALS association art/advocacy exhibit Piece by Piece which is AMAZING!!!!) and then the National Portrait Gallery and then shopping at Macy's. (i got a bright blue dress that is killer!) But I digress...Back at work bright and early this Monday morning I still feel tired. So I think I made the right decision. If only for my physical, emotional and mental well being. I am - to say the least - worn out. Worn out because of this breakup, my job, my life, being me. Depressing no? I'm thinking of planning a ridiculously extravagant vacation for 3 months from now when this hellish project I'm currently working on is over.

Anyways, you don't care about my troubles do you? What you really want to know is - how did the Math Teacher respond? And let me tell you...he was soooooooo nice. So freaking nice.

Here's what he said: "Don't worry about it. Everyone feels bad sometime. We'll try something when you feel better and more up to it."

Soooo nice right? He proceeded to text me several times on Saturday and then most of the day on Sunday. Saturday: "How are you feeling today?" I admitted I was pretty much bumming around the house watching youtube videos and other random stuff online and catching up on The Wire from the beginning via Netflix. I mentioned the Jimmy Fallon video parodying Charlie Sheen and the Steven Colbert and Jimmy Fallon performance of "Friday." And a bunch of other stuff. And you know what he did? He watched them. Every thing I said I thought was funny - he'd go and watch it and report back. Not like that's hard or anything but - he actually listens to me- and engages. He doesn't get a medal, but he gets props. That's all I'm saying.

Sunday he was out with all our friends and they had a few too many drinks. Yet he still texted me to check in and chat every half hour or so. Finally, one of our friends got mad at him for being on his phone instead of paying attention to the group. They didn't know he was talking to me.

"So stop texting me!" I urged him. "I don't want to stop texting," he told me. "So what are you up to now?"

And its official - I'm still in love with David. This whole thing still sucks. I'm still a sad, moody, hot mess. But I also like the Math Teacher. And I also want to date him.

Unfortunately, my last minute cancellation has confused him a bit. He asked our mutual friend T (a very good girl friend of mine) to help him "figure me out." Oy vey!

But what is there to figure out? He asked me out, I went out with him. We had fun. He asked me out again, and while I did cancel (because I honestly said I didn't feel well), why can't we just go out again (rescheduled) and see what happens?

Why must we, in the beginning, know exactly what's going on, what's happening or figure someone out? Why must I be a 100% over my last boyfriend? Why must I be anything at all? Why can't I just exist and see what happens?

So there you have it friends. I like the Math Teacher. And maybe, just maybe, he likes me...even if I am quadruple lame. I guess we'll see.

Happy Monday and Cheers,
T

To Date or Not to Date

That is the question. Because I'm supposed to go out tonight. On another date with the Math Teacher. Bowling.

In theory, I want to go out on another date with the Math Teacher. But in reality I have NO INTEREST IN GOING OUT TONIGHT. OR BOWLING.

My whole body aches. Everywhere. My back, neck, shoulders. My face. My eyes behind the eyes. My quads. My hamstrings. The soles of my feet. Maybe I'm just tired. Maybe I work too much. (Well I KNOW I work too much - I even work a full day Saturdays so a six day week). Maybe I'm getting the flu (some of my coworkers were out sick this week and my mom has also been afflicted). Or maybe I'm just depressed. Two run-ins with the ex (yes I DID run into him AGAIN on my way to work yesterday. More on that some other time maybe...) in the last five days and its just too much. It's all too much. Or maybe I'm just dehydrated and need a glass of water? Who knows...

I told my coworker I wanted to cancel. I told her I feel like shit and I'm exhausted and we have to work all day tomorrow too! And then Sunday I'm spending the whole day with my mom for Mother's Day doing fun stuff she likes like an early morning walk outside, documentary movies, art exhibits, brunch etc.

My coworker was kinda mean to me in response to my lack of luster for living it up. She said: "What are you gonna do then? Go home and put on your sweatpants and watch TV?"

I said: "Um, yes. Exactly. And drink wine." (Don't try to tell me that's not bliss). The truth is: I wanna be alone. I don't feel like myself. And its even MORE exhausting and stressful trying to PRETEND to be me. The me everyone likes. The fun, bubbly, nice person that I just am not embodying right now. Because right now I am angry and tired and bitter and sad and exhausted and stressed and lost.

But I know how shitty it is to cancel on someone. Especially if they cleared their schedule to hang with you and therefore didn't make other Friday night plans. And then maybe he won't ask me out again. And I DO want to see if something is there with the Math Teacher. He IS a nice, interesting, cool guy. But I DON'T want to see if something is there tonight. Though I don't want to blow him off or hurt his feelings or give him the wrong impression.

I don't know. Ugh. I'd said TGIF. But I work Saturdays. Fuck my life. Just fuck it.

Tell me what to do lovely readership. You decide. And I will listen. You always say the right things. Which is why I write to you out into the abyss. I get more out of it, then you do. I'm sure.

Tired, tired T.

Men Love Bitches and Crazies - Part 2

Since you guys seemed to enjoy PART 1 of this story with the crazy bitch and her basket...I'd figure I'd give you just a little more on it. Here was my actual emailed response to my friend Chris upon hearing his story of putting up with this bullshit...

"That seriously is the most craziest fucked up story i've ever heard. I don't care how hot or how fun or how good of a lay she is, I don't know how a good person like yourself could be around as BAD A PERSON as that. Who treats people like that? Who thinks its ok to treat people like that?

You are doing the entire universe of people a DISFAVOR by continuing to allow hot women to be total and completely self-centered, entitled bitches and let them think they can get away with it so they continue again and again to act this way and treat people this way. INCONSIDERATE RUDE PEOPLE are a waste of space on this earth. And it makes me sick guys put up with it.

I've been trying to think of a way to respond to this email that wasn't all fired up and opinionated and annoyed but I just cant. You are my friend. This girl sounds like she sucks. You are a good person. K and V and I are good people. This girl is not.

Honestly. How many women are there in NYC? At least 1/3rd of the hot ones have to have a single neuron of intelligence in their brain and a bit of decency in their hearts. FUCK THEM. DATE THEM.

Ugh. I'm vaclemped! (spelling?)

T

P.S. this story IS FUCKING HILARIOUS THOUGH. UNBELIAVABLY HILARIOUS."


TO WHICH HE REPLIED...

"Haha. I made her pick up the basket! If she hadn't picked up the
basket, I would have said, 'Peace Out!' Our latest conversations involve how many free meals (as in me cooking exclusively) she thinks she can get away with based on her looks and pouting.. Haha. I'm setting the girl straight!"


I GIVE UP.

Men Like Bitches and Crazies

I used to feel like it was my fault that I was single. Was I too pretty? Not pretty enough? Not well dressed? Not thin enough or fit enough or tan enough or quiet enough or sweet enough or aloof enough. But my latest relationship, where I genuinely believe the Ex before, then and now thinks I am what he says I am: "Truly excellent. Smart and beautiful. Kind and generous." Because you know what? I. am. Period. Men just happen to like high maintenance, crazy bitches. And I for one, regardless of any "game" I'm supposed to play, don't want to be high maintenance, crazy, or bitchy. Because, frankly, that wouldn't be fun for me. And my quality of life, throughout my life, would suffer. For myself. Personally. So why would I change?

Case in point...my friend Chris who lives outside the DMV, dated a super cute, seemingly nice, friendly, normal girl for a year or so. They broke up and it was rough. But now...it seems as though he is dating every hot lunatic that ever broke out of a mental hospital. Seriously. And treats them well. And puts up with their shit. And I just don't get it. Do you? Let me relay one of his tales - of some psycho tail - so you know what I'm talking about...

"Haha. New chick and I almost had a fight in the street near my apt. yesterday early evening. Love it.

She had been drinking all day w/ other friends and was wasted. I proposed meeting up and drinking/picnic in the Park early evening yesterday. Met her at a place where she had met up w/ friend bartender at a really nice restaurant there. Went up for a drink, ended up having two. (And then she proposed shots which I rejected.) Ended up not doing picnic - and I even had my picnic basket, blanket, sweatshirt (for her) and wine with me. Offered to make dinner instead. Took cab up to grocery store near me. Bought groceries for dinner. Now had basket and two bags of groceries. I have basket - she has groceries.

Half a block from store she starts to complain about weight of groceries, so we switch. Walks 10ft and complains about basket now. Puts basket on sidewalk and walks without it. I stop and like, "You've got to be kidding me.." And she keeps walking so I tell her to come back and get basket, refuse to pick it up. Tell her to finally come back and pick up the f'n basket and she does.
Haha.

Only child urban primadonna. And she's self-admitted she needs a lot of attention. Got to love it. But dinner went well. Had to share w/ someone. Hope everything is well with you."

WTF????

Just WHAT. the. FUCK.

Do you have any explanation? Because I sure dont...

Cheers,

T

THE BREAKUP: PART TWO

Inquiring minds want to know - what happened? why did he dump you?

It's been too painful to share with you. But seeing how today I saw him on the street and while still totally sucked, I didn't die right there of a broken heart. So I guess I'll live. And I guess I'm moving on. So sharing with you - this ONE AND ONLY time (I hope) - this very painful thing - may help. And is worth a shot.

It was Friday night at 7 o'clock. Finally time for me to get off of work after 5 consecutive 13 hour days in a row. I had started a new project with a new client. I was feeling great about my responsibilities and talent and efforts and results. And I hadn't seen David all week. I couldn't wait to see him. He said he would swing by my office and pick me up. And then we were supposed to go to dinner just the two of us. A romantic dinner at a little Italian place I'd never been to.

Another fact you might not know, is that 3 days later I was supposed to meet his parents for passover dinner. Something you will now know, but David never will, was that I was so nervous yet so excited for this dinner. I thought it meant something. I thought it meant something big. I thought it meant he loved me. I wanted it to mean he loved me. I'd taken off of WORK!!! (unheard of) to go dress shopping at Macy's. I'd tried every dress on they had in the store and bought three. I would decide which one was most appropriate later I had decided and return the other two (or save them for other occasions we might go to together). I had listened to NPR podcast and news stories ALL day long at work for days. His mother is a psychotherapist, his father a teacher. I didn't want to come off like an ignoramus. I wanted to impress them.

Just moments before he was to arrive, I went to the restroom. I brushed and primped my hair. I touched up my makeup. My eyeshadow. My lipstick. My lip gloss. I always wanted to look good for him. I was so happy.

I went down the elevator and out into the lobby. There he was. In one of his many suits. When he looked up he smiled, but in a forced way. I could feel my walk pick up a little quicker, almost in a half skip as I moved towards him and planted a firm kiss on his lips. I guess in hindsight, it wasn't really returned and had been all my doing but I hadn't noticed. "How are you?" he'd asked. "I'm great," I said. "The new job is going great! It's so good to see you. How are you?" "I'm okay" he replied. "Just okay?" I asked concerned thinking it was a work thing or a family thing that was bothering him. "We'll talk about it," he said as we turned up the street towards Dupont Circle.

"Why are you just okay?" I asked again. "We'll talk about it" he said again. "You're worrying me..." I said in response. But he gave no further answer. We walked several blocks and I felt sick in my stomach. I knew. I just knew.

"Do you wanna break up?" I asked him. "Yes," he nodded. "Shit," I said. We kept walking a little ways. "Okay," I said. "That's it?" He said back. "Well, what can I say?" I said panicked, the tears starting to well up choking in my throat. "I can't make you be with me if you don't want to be with me." He nodded again.

I suddenly felt overwhelmed and lightheaded. We sat down on a rock wall surrounding a park filled with a happy family of father and children playing baseball.

"Why did you ask me to meet your parents," I almost shrieked. "That was before..." he answered. "That was cruel," I said back. "There is nothing about this, that isn't cruel," he replied. "This is hard on me too you know." "This isn't hard on you," I said meanly. "It isn't hard on you at all."

"It just isn't right," he explained poorly. "I don't know what's wrong. But I haven't been able to sleep lately. I've been thinking about it for some time. It's just not right."

"I don't understand," I started to cry. "I feel liked I learned nothing from this relationship. I don't know how we went from those great dates at Firefly and Oya and Dplan to where we ended up. I don't know why we don't 'fit.' This isn't what I want. I like you. I like being with you. I want to be with you. We seem to have so much in common. Why is it so hard to just spend time together and be happy? Why didn't you get off a long day of work, want to see my smiling face, call me up saying 'coming over?' - go home with me, cook dinner, watch tv or read and go to bed. Any day, every week, all the time? Of course our relationship wasn't working. Bc it wasn't a relationship at all. We never DID anything together. Why didn't you want to do things with me or spend time with me and just relax with me if you liked me as much as you said you did? I just don't understand. I don't. I tried so hard. I tried to be nice and flexible and give you space. I feel like you never let me in or tried at all. And I don't know why. And that's so hard."

He paused for a long time. Then he tried to rub my back with his hand and I pulled away from him.

"I don't have any answers, just shared hurt. And confidence that this is the right decision. I feel good about the time we had together. I think you are truly excellent; smart and beautiful, kind and generous. I wish you the best in all things. I did and do care for you. The answer you are looking for is an intangible. i don't know why it didn't work and I really wish that it had but it didn't feel right to me and when I realized that it wasn't just stress or scheduling or anything either of us could change I thought that the best thing would be to recognize that and end it. I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to use you, I was hoping to fall in love with you. I didn't and it sucks and I don't know what else to say."

OUCH. A punch to the gut. Are there any words ever said ever before by anyone, anywhere that ever hurt as much? "I was hoping to fall in love with you. I didn't."

What else was there to say? I made him give me $20 for cab fare. I was in no shape to take public transit home. I was sure to cry in public adding insult to injury. I made him wait for me to find a cab. "You were lucky to have me as long as you did," I spurted out sharp and angry. "You were lucky to have me at all." "I feel that way," he said.

"Don't call me. Don't email me. Don't invite me to stuff. Tell your friends not to invite me to stuff. If you see me on the street, pretend you don't know me."

"It doesn't have to be that way," he said. He genuinely looked hurt. Hah. As if. "Yes, it does," I replied without hesitation defensive and in pain. "Promise me." "Promise me this is it. I know myself and I want nothing to do with you. I wish you a good life I guess. Have a nice life." "I'll wish you the same then," he said back to me.

He hailed a cab and it pulled beside us. He opened the door. "Goodbye David," I said. "Goodbye," he said. I got in the cab and the door shut behind me. As it pulled away I looked over at him walking along the sidewalk away from me. He looked at me too. For a moment. He did look sad and defeated.

I held it together in the cab. I walked into my dark and empty house at 8pm on a Friday night like a zombie. I went upstairs and calmly put my pajamas on. I went back downstairs, opened a bottle of wine. I put something on the tv. I ordered a pizza. But when it came I took one look at it and felt nauseous. I couldn't take even one bite. So I just sat there, in the dark, drinking wine, crying and sobbing, and dying a little inside, until I fell asleep. I didn't leave the couch for almost 48 hours. Except to use the restroom. I sat in the darkness. I drank wine and liquor and beer. I didn't eat. I was empty. And I was alone. Yet, again. And all I could hear, over and over again, ringing in my ears like a curse -

"I hoped to fall in love with you. But I didn't. I don't know what else to say."

And I was left to ponder, what it was, that made me so willing to love others, yet so impossible to be loved in return.

I have never doubted why they call it heart ache. Because if you've known it, then you also know - your heart - actually aches. So much so, that you think you should die instantly from its infliction, but you don't. And minutes keep ticking. And suns keep rising. And people keep laughing. While you must watch and see and feel. When all you feel is despair.

I Ran into the EX....

And I. am. winning. WINNING!!!!!

Holy shit. Seriously.

Its like 9:15am on a Monday and I have work to get to. Like for realz. But...this is just too awesome not to impart to all my ladies out there who may need a beginning of the week boost of hope and awesomeness...

So - I don't know if I mentioned this before but I work ACROSS THE STREET from my EX (aka David, aka Mr. U or Mr. Unicorn - ack - barf - yeah right). I eat my lunch on a lovely rooftop every day. Only problem - I have to stare at his fuckin lair right across the street spoiling the ambiance. It blows.

My walk to and from the metro and work is his walk to and from his apartment and his work. So for two weeks I've been looking over my shoulder every second. Wondering if I was going to see him. Hoping I DONT see him. Hoping I DO see him. What if he was on a date? What if he was holding hands with some other fucking girl walking her to work like we used to do together? I was mortified and petrified and angry and sad and a total paranoid freak running around thinking I saw him anywhere and everywhere. Every morning. Every lunch break. Every evening. Totally psychotic nightmarish misery.

Then...this morning. I was walking from the metro. I totally forgot he existed. (At least for the moment I had). I was texting funny messages back and forth with my coworker B, on my way to work. She was already there and I was filling her in on the weekend.

And I look over to the right to check the traffic at an intersection and there he is. THERE HE FUCKING IS!!! The first time I wasn't looking for him and there he was. And I laughed. Out loud. Because OF COURSE. Because OF COURSE the one minute I let my guard down, there he was.

And I thought of avoiding him. I thought of changing course to work. I wondered if he saw me and was pretending to ignore me or whether he hadn't seen me at all. And I somehow decided this was it - I was going to run into him - ON PURPOSE - and get back my sanity. And my independence. And my freedom.

So I walked on, until we were next to each other AT THE SAME FUCKING CROSSWALK. Waiting for the light to turn so we could cross the street. And he stood next to me.

"Hey," I said nonchalantly. "Good morning."

"Oh! Hey!" he said as surprised to see me as I had been.

And then my coworker B sent me a text that was HILARIOUS and I looked at it and laughed.

"You seem to be in a good mood this morning," he said staring at me.

"Yeah," I said. "I am. I'm good."

"Thanks for my stuff," he said. (I didn't mention it but I dropped his shit off in a plastic bag on his doorstep in the middle of the day on Saturday. Good riddins).

"No problem," I replied casually. "I just didn't want anything of yours lying around."

I got another text from B and laughed one more time. "Take care," I said as easy breezy as a Covergirl, waving my hand in the air with my folded up newspaper. I walked across the street away from him and smiled down ahead.

He had LOOKED LIKE SHIT. He looked tired. and sad. And I - did not. I don't know if I'm winning or not (really), since I love him. And miss him. And he fucked with me. But again. he. looked. like. shit. tired. and. sad. And I did not. I'm definitely not losing. And you know what...he just looked like some guy. It's sort of tragic really - because its like he was a stranger. Like none of it every happened. But Life goes on...because it must. And since I must go along with it...I'll do it and win.

YES!!!! A TRIUMPH!!!

First Post-Breakup First Date: Part 2!!

OMG! Oh. my. god.

I'm exhausted and tired and have to get up early and go to bed. But holy shit....

That was A. GREAT. FIRST. DATE.

I was soooooo nervous and obnoxious and could NOT SHUT UP. This guy is NEVER going to want to go out with me again. But you know what...

I would go out with him again.

I laughed. And laughed and laughed.

We talked about NOTHING. And it was phenomenal.

Somehow we got in a conversation about what type of classes/styles/lifestyles of people vegetables were. We decided cucumbers were yuppity and uppity. We decided that sweetpotatos were a kick ass starch. We decided that even though I like cauliflower I would never be cool because I work for the man.

It made no sense. But it was awesome.

He's sweet and nice and accommodating.

And maybe we are better off as friends. And maybe there will be no second date.

But there was a moment where I went to the restroom and I looked at myself in the mirror. And I wasn't just smiling with my mouth. I stared into my own eyes and my eyes were smiling. And I thought - you. are. okay.

And you are gonna be okay....

Yay! More tomorrow...

T

First Post-Breakup First Date

So...yeah...I've been single for what? A week and a half? And I have a first date. Sort of.

So remember how I got completely wasted 2 days after getting my heart completely stomped on by the unicorn imposter (sort of, I mean he's a pretty great guy. ugh. wish it weren't true) and how I hooked up with this guy in my circle of mutual friends? To feel better - no big deal.

Well what you don't know is that 7 days after getting broken up with I went out on the town again for my friend M's 30th birthday. And I was feeling it you know? Feeling great. Feeling so great it made me wonder if it really WAS A GOOD THING that David had dumped me? Like maybe I hadn't been myself around him? Or it had been harder than it should've been? Or that it was just so tiring trying to make someone happy that maybe couldn't be happy? I don't know. But last Friday - I felt great. I was dancing and laughing and finally eating again. (Did I mention I lost 8 pounds in 7 days because I barely swallowed a morsel? Every time I looked at food I felt like I was going to vomit. But I digress). I felt good. And The Math Teacher, or I suppose we could call him Rebound Guy, was there. And I talked to him. But I also talked to our friends. And I danced with him, but I also danced with my other girl and guy friends.

And at the end of the night...

I went home with him. Again.

Except this time...nothing happened. I mean I told him nothing would happen and he told me to come home with him anyway. And really folks. Nothing happened. We watched a ROCK movie (You know who the Rock is right? hah) and he held me. He held me ALL FUCKING NIGHT. I don't think David ever did that ONCE. Because he was a fickle sleeper and couldn't get to sleep. And he'd get cold and needed more blankets. blah. blah. blah. Its not that David never held me. But he never held me like that. And it made me sad. Like how could this man I spent months and months with never hold me like that. And why not? And why were we together? But I didn't think it was great that we were no longer together. I just still wished we were. And that he had changed. And been different. And loved me. And held me - like that. But he didn't. And we aren't. And he never will. It's the worst.

In the morning, The Math Teacher made me breakfast and we watched tv. He walked me outside and put me in a cab and asked me if I wanted to go out this week. What else could I say? I mean I guess I could say no? But why not? What the fuck else have I got to do?

So when I get off of work tonight around 8pm - I will officially GO BACK TO DATING. Which is my worst nightmare. I mean - to be honest - I rock at dating. You wanna know why? Because I'm friendly and energetic and interested in people and a good talker. And because I've been on about a thousand dates in my lifetime. Well not that many - but close. And I'm sick of it. I don't want to date anymore. I know I'm not supposed to say this and its anti-feminist bullshit or something but I don't want to date. I don't want to be single. 6 months ago I thought I hated marriage, children and men. And then I fell in love with someone. In a grown-up way. As a grown-up. I'm ready. Ready to be in love. Ready to settle down. Ready for marriage and children and all of it. And it sucks. Because to get there - I have to date. A lot. And go on bad dates. Probably. A lot of them.

So I'm starting with the math teacher. I think its going to be really really really REALLY weird. Because we started out by seedily hooking up. And I know him as a friend. And all my friends know him. And we all hang out together. And it just feels weird. And because I'm sad. And because I miss David. And because I wish David and I were having dinner. But we aren't. And a girl's gotta eat...

I'm going to try to be positive. And I'm going to be a good date. Because I always am. Because I can't help myself. Life goes on...because it does. So I will go on...because I must.

Cheers and wish me luck,
T

Post Breakup: Day 2

You aren't going to like this. That I behaved so poorly. But here goes it...

So I got drunk. Really drunk. After a mimosa brunch and nothing to eat. At 12pm on Sunday I hadn't eaten in almost 48 hours, but I did manage to down about 6 mimosas. Then I headed to meet some friends. Who didn't know that David was history. Literally.

"Let's get you drunk," they said.

"I'm already drunk," I said.

"More drunk?" they asked.

"I like your thinking," I replied.

And so I proceeded to get drunk. Really drunk. Beer after beer after beer kinda drunk. And then I came up with the greatest idea ever....

"Let's go to Camelot!!!" I ordered.

It was my day after all. Who could deny me? This was better than a birthday.

So myself and a caravan of friends headed to the strip club.

We got a table in front and I started pounding Rum and cokes. Delicious misery.

The Math Teacher is a guy in my group of mutual friends who was with us this night. He teaches children math - so I consider him pretty harmless. And he looked tall and cute with his full head of hair. After David who is short and balding (but don't get me wrong still handsome give me some credit), tall and a full head of hair was exactly what I needed.

"You'll be okay," The Math Teacher said.

"What I need," I responded, "is to be a guy."

"Come again?" he countered.

"You know...how guys just start hooking up with another woman. Get over one person by getting under another. Why is it that girls pine away for seven months alone crying and weeping and feeling pathetic while guys just move on to the next piece of ass? It's not fair. I wanna post-breakup like a guy. I want to be with another guy as soon as possible. Just get it out of the way. Put another guy between me and David and start moving on. Now. What do you think?"

"What do you mean what do I think?"

Now for the record - I have never been this slutty in my life. Ever. But I was drunk. And I was sad. And I was determined.

"I think I wanna go home with you," I told him. "Really?" he said.

"Yes. But you have to do something for me..."

"What's that?"

"I need to feel beautiful. And SEXY."

"But you are beautiful. And sexy," he seemed to answer honestly.

"Tell me I'm beautiful and sexy as many times as possible. And I won't regret it."

"Okay," he said staring sincerely back at me.

Now some of my friends have thought this whole thing was stupid and bad. And that The Math Teacher was taking advantage of me in my weakened state. But I wholeheartedly knew what I was doing. I'm a big girl. I'm 28. I knew what I was doing. And it was my idea and my decision.

The Math Teacher began grabbing my leg under the table. And holding my hands. And brushing my arm. None of my friends noticed at first. It felt soooo good to be touched by someone else. Anyone else. Other than...

And I did go home with him. And he did tell me I was beautiful. And sexy. Maybe a hundred times. And I felt beautiful. And sexy. That other men would want me. And I would want them.

In the morning I laughed thinking about it all again. Blushing to myself. I couldn't believe I had done that. That was sooo not me. And it was stupid and ridiculous and really not all that great. But it was kind of silly and liberating and shocking. And made me laugh. And three days after a break-up, a little self-confidence and a little laughter couldn't be so bad. It had made me sad, because it wasn't nearly as good as when I was with someone I was truly attracted to -inside and out-and someone I cared about- like him. I would rather have been with him. But it made me feel beautiful. And sexy. And wanted. And a tiny bit of the memory of him had been blurred a little further in the past.

Judge me if you will, but it is what it is. And I don't feel as bad about it, as maybe I should.

T.