Keep your drink, just give me the money

Well, it hasn't been as long as the break between my last two posts, but it seems like life just keeps getting weirder and weirder.

First off, most of my last post was about M. I'm pretty sure nothing's going to happen between us, despite the mutual attraction. He still hangs out with me and helped me move out of my dorm and into a house, but that's about it. I'm obviously frustrated but the situation is complicated by the fact that we now work together. Yeah. Strange. Also, my former roommate is spreading the rumor that I'm messing around with his brother. Basically, things are just becoming entirely too bizarre to even consider starting a relationship. It sucks, but I'll live.

Meanwhile, the intern at my station has decided it is necessary to make out with me and won't leave me alone. I first met him for about two minutes when I was filling in for the receptionist at the station. We were introduced, chatted about our majors, and then he left. I didn't really pay attention to him because he works mornings and I work nights. A week later, he showed up at a party I was at. He immediately put his arm around me and claimed me for the night. I let him keep his arm on my waist but kept refusing to kiss him because we work together. (At least I learned something from M.) Intern finally got mad that I wouldn't make out with him and left. He texted me a few days later -- it's a long story as to how he got my number -- to apologize for being an ass and tell me that he hopes I can make out without him without being drunk. (I had also told him I wasn't drunk enought to kiss him, lol.) The conversation culminated in Intern asking if I would watch a movie with him. So I have a movie date with him tomorrow night; he's coming over after I get off work (with M. -- awkward!).

I'm not entirely sure what to do with this situation. Both of my roommates adore Intern. My current closest guy friend hates him. As far as I'm concerned, he didn't make the best impression at the party and his late-night texts to tell me how beautiful I am and ask if he can "make a move and try to kiss you and stuff" during the movie aren't helping. I mean, firstly, any guy who doesn't have the confidence to just try has no business kissing me. Secondly, can't he at least pretend to care about more than just my body? So far, I've shot him down in everything except watching the movie. I made no promises regarding what will happen then; I told him I'll see how things go. And I will. And I'm not betting in his favor, but who knows? I haven't kissed anyone in so long . . .

One thing definitely working against him is that most girls are more likely to mess around with a guy when they're drunk. I am bitchier. So he's going to want me to have a few drinks to loosen me up, which will completely blow up in his face. Unless I trust the guy, which is quite rare, I will not let him near me. At least I'll have something to amuse me at work . . . I mean, how awkward is he trying to make this for himself?

The worst part of this whole thing is that I'm in a place now where I really want a relationship. I know it won't happen with M., the Intern is just dumb, and the only other guys I know are my close friends. There is one of them I could totally fall for, but I won't let myself. For one, he's too innocent; I would always feel like I was corrupting him. I'll be living with his sister next year. And he's just too sweet to have to deal with my issues. He deserves someone as untouched as he is. If only I could find a good guy who's not perfect but not an ass . . . until then, my current song is "U + Ur Hand" by Pink: "I'm not here for your entertainment / you don't really wanna mess with me tonight / just stop and take a second / I was fine before you walked into my life."

My Tears Dry On Their Own

Well, it's definitely been a while . . . I just realized I haven't posted since last September. To quickly catch everyone up:

1. I'm still at the same school in the middle of nowhere, studying English, Theatre, and Psychology. I'm thinking of dropping Psych, though, and going into Communications since I already work in radio. What employer can argue with a degree AND nearly 10 years of experience? (okay, closer to 7 or 8, but still . . . close enough to ten . . .)

2. My amazing roommate, Aimee Dear, spent this semester studying abroad so a good friend who likes the bottle and boys a little too much moved in with me. We have a lot of fun but, to be honest, she's not been the best at helping me make smart decisions . . . it's been a good time, though. I'm living with her this summer and we'll be suitemates next year. Aimee Dear will live with us, and another girl that is into Theatre almost as much as I am.

3. I got my heart torn out and smashed into little pieces in February. A guy I met and partied with at the beginning of the year screwed me over royally. After I drunkenly confessed my feelings for him, he informed me that he wasn't ready for a relationship but if he was to date everyone, I was "definately at the top of the list". In my typical fashion, I let myself continue caring, fully aware that I was setting myself up to be hurt. He would mention from time to time that things between us were going "really well" and bring up a lot of "ifs," such as "if things keep going this well, you could move in with us [his housemates] when we get our new house; we'll need a woman around."

I let myself fall and hit bottom when I found out he had sex with another girl (yes, I withheld; I'm not dumb enough to think sex will lure any guy into falling in love). He didn't tell me; one of his close friends did. The same friend also told me the fuckwit (I stole Bridget Jones's word) said I was the perfect woman and he would marry me -- if only I was pretty. This is kind of ironic, actually, because I had turned down 2 of his 3 housemates and spent every weekend being harassed by every other man in the house. (Yes, it hurt my feelings but the way I see it, every man has a different type, just like women. My friends find people attractive that I think are repulsive; that's how life works.)

I was going to confront him about all of this the following weekend but was spared this by the introduction of him to a seventeen-year-old skank (she's the bicycle of a local town). They proceeded to have sex in his room while I slept on a couch five feet from the door. Within a week, she had basically moved in. So much for not wanting a relationship! Anyway, despite my heart being wrenched out, I was over the heartbreak quickly.

My foolproof remedy of a night of Ben and Jerry's (eating the entire pint is required) and bitching to my friends, followed by another night of excessive amounts of vodka and picking apart his faults. Eventually, I make out with someone else and am officially over whoever screwed me over. In this case, it worked pretty well. I still despise him (and his slut of a girlfriend) but just because he is a horrible human being. He lies to everyone and deserves no respect. (Okay, maybe I'm a bit bitter . . . the point is, I don't care about him anymore and would be okay with never speaking to him again.)

4. I met a really great guy over spring break. I'd actually met him in August; his younger brother is in my class and we were playing 'Risk'. A few weeks before break, my roommates and I were going to have an evening of 'Monty Python' movies, so I invited a bunch of people via campus e-mail. While looking up my friend, I saw his brother's name and figured, the more, the merrier. To make a long story short, everyone was busy and my roommates bailed to go to the bar. I got a call on my cell phone from a random number (I'd included my number in the e-mail) and it was the brother, M.

He asked if we were still watching movies. I was annoyed and a bit tipsy, so I told him I was, but the others had bailed; he was still welcome, though. He came in and asked me if I minded that he brought beer. I laughed and pointed to the vodka I was drinking. We started "The Holy Grail" but ended up talking through the whole thing. I was drunker than I thought because I remember nothing we said, only that he was really funny.

On the first day of spring break, my roommate (S., the one who drinks) and I made chili and invited people for movies and games. I invited M. and his brother, among others. We ended up with nearly 20 people in our room, drunkenly playing games and watching movies. After everyone left, M. and I began watching "Thank You For Smoking," one of my favorite new movies. Eventually, he kissed me and we made out. He left the next afternoon.

After that, we began spending most weekends together, just talking and hanging out with my roommates (and, of course, kissing). I was pretty happy with how things were. My roommate, S., kept saying M. and I would be dating withing a few weeks, but I just wanted a friend with benefits. I'd just been hurt and didn't want to do that again, so I was trying not to like M.

This plan was scrambled when M. texted me to see if I wanted to go out to lunch. I was nervous as hell, but it went really well.

He came over the next weekend and told me he wanted to "talk about us." I hid my panic and told him to continue. He proceeded to spend the next fifteen minutes telling me how much he liked me and liked to be with me and talk to me and hang out with me and kiss me and on and on . . . but he didn't want to hurt me when he graduates and leaves at the end of the summer. He was becoming quite agitated by the whole issue of timing (why did we have to meet now, when he's leaving), so I finally just kissed him to make him stop confusing us both. Obviously, that conversation ended there.

Since then, he's been over a few more times and we've had fun but haven't discussed anything in the future. I know he's had one too many long-distance relationships and doesn't want to do that and completely understand. What annoys me, is his insistence that a relationship would hurt me. This in-between thing hurts, too; I'm so sick of guys that want pseudo-relationships! He invites me to important things, like his senior seminar, that I have no real reason to attend (he's a Biology major; the new developments in synthetic cartilege hold no interest for me), then makes sure I know how much he appreciates my attendence. He is the one who brought up the whole "where is this going" discussion. It's like he just can't make up his mind. And as much as I adore him -- he really is a nice guy -- I can't just sit around waiting for him. I am twenty years old and want to have fun, not be tied down to someone who refuses to be tied to me!

5. I am currently at work at a local classic country radio station, playing music I don't particularly like. I work until 11 p.m., then have a final at 8 a.m. I'm screwed. And tired and cranky and . . . this was kind of therapeutic. I'm going to have to do this more often.

6. I am also currently obsessed with Amy Winehouse, this blues/jazz/alternative singer who is huge in Europe and just breaking in the U.S. My favorite songs are "Stronger Than Me" and "Me and Mr. Jones," which begins with the line I'll use to sum up my feelings for M.: "What kind of fuckery is this?"

if you try and you're still unhappy, then maybe the problem is you . . .

I have reached the point of total and complete frustration with everything. I don't even know what my problem is; I just suddenly became so tense it almost hurts to move. I think some of it has to do with the ridiculous amount of thing I have to do, even though I don't have any pressing deadlines. I don't know.

It didn't help that we had an interesting discussion in British Romantics about self-alienation (I'm not sure if that's a word but I'm using it anyway). Dr. Brown asked us if we are the same people we were 5 years ago and, if we said no, asked if we were less, more, or different. I think about these things on my own; his prodding only exacerbated the problem. So I have been thinking about my life since 1:45 this afternoon. And I have reached some very not-good conclusions.

For one, I am completely different from when I was little. I was happy and naive and trusting and sweet and innocent and all of the things little kids are. Even 5 years ago, when I was almost 15, I was a good kid. I didn't drink or smoke or even consider having sex or doing drugs. Now, while I don't necessarily do these things, I do partake in some of them. And the ones I don't do aren't nearly as scary as they once were. A lot of my core religious beliefs have shifted and I'm not even sure what I believe anymore, even though I can still recite Bible verses left and right.

Five years ago, I had just begun a relationship with my now-ex-fiancee. That was the biggest news in my life; up til then, I had refused to go near any guy even slightly interested in me because, basically, I was scared and insecure. Five years later, I am a bit more confident but even more scared. And guys who are attracted to me, I know from painful experience, are generally assholes. Even if I would, by some strange chance, find a decent guy, I know what it's like to have to rip my own heart out for the sake of both of us. I don't think I could handle going through that again.

So, to make what is becoming a very long story short, I am in a contemplative, slightly depressive mood. It doesn't help that I have become addicted to Liz Phair's "Exile in Guyville" album compulsively; my roommate says that if she hears "Fuck and Run" one more time, she might move out. My current favorite, however, is "Six Feet One Inch": "And I kept standing six feet one / instead of five feet two / and I loved my life / and I hated you." If only I could keep standing . . . I think I may be crumbling.

Men Don't Change

I didn't even realize how long it had been since I last wrote until I signed in! This summer has been crazy. I spent the first few weeks at home because my dad broke his leg but now I'm back at school. I'm living with three of the best roommates in the world and working for the college. It's ridiculously fun; sobriety is rare.

My main contemplation this summer involves a conversation I had with a friend a few months ago. I asked him why I always find guys who are complete jackasses. He replied that the problem is that only jerks have the confidence to hit on girls. Nice guys know that good girls are always screwed over so they are afraid to ask girls out. This leaves girls in the awkward and confusing position of only being able to date guys who don't let us know they're interested and avoiding those who do. How does that even work?

So now I'm not even sure what to do about anything. I know that whatever I am doing now is wrong but don't know how to change it. All I know is that I am surrounded by assholes and finding a decent guy is like finding a needle in a haystack. Except harder.

Hooray for pjs!

I got asked tonight if it is true that I live in "the dorm that never sleeps". I had to laugh; I'm usually the one up until 4 a.m.!

True to form, my friend Aimee and I decided to hit up our local truck stop/cafe for some sustenance around 1 this morning. We were greeted by the usual waiter, a man probably in his mid-forties who is usually extremely talkative. This time, though, he was quieter than usual. He apologized to Aimee and I for "not running on all four cylinders" because of a mild case of pneumonia. Since I have waited tables (and will probably do it again), I sympathized. We were in no rush. Aimee andI ordered our usuals and talked about our plans for the summer. Our food arrived and we chatted with the waiter for a few minutes. Suddenly, we heard him swear. We looked out the window to see what his problem was. Half a dozen drunk people were staggering into the cafe.

Aimee and I watched them find their seats and listened to one guy's story about driving there; all we got out of it was that "there were two rabbits, tops". This phrase was repeated constantly, for no apparent reason. Rabbit boy also seemed to think that Aimee and I wanted him to remove his pants. Every few minutes, he would ask, "Should I drop my pants now?" at which point the other guy would look at Aimee and I, laugh, and tell us that he would give us money to give Rabbit boy for dancing. Unsure of how to politely reject the drunk would-be stripper I finally begged off citing tomorrow's classes as an excuse.

About this time, the man offering money noticed I was wearing pajamas. Aimee had told me that I should put on something slightly normal-looking, but I had stubbornly insisted on my fuzzy blue two-piece set with skiing polar bears. I'm kind of weird like that. Anyway, the pajamas were a big hit with the drunk crowd. By the time we left, the one guy had changed his mind: he wanted me to do a little dance -- he even offered to pay me!

Needless to say, I'll be up for a while now. For one, I keep thinking of those totally trashed people driving. Drunk driving is one of my pet peeves. Even if I wasn't worried about that, the whole incident was highly amusing. It's hard to laugh and sleep at the same time. I do feel sorry for the waiter, though. I know what it's like to be waiting tables when a) you don't feel well and b) your customers are completely wasted. I just hope they tip well.

As a side note, I know from experience that waiting tables pays practically nothing, especially if they make you pay for your food, too. Keep that in mind when tipping, please! Waiters and waitresses know who tips and who doesn't. They serve accordingly. Trust me on this.

Pondering

My playwriting professor gave us an interesting assignment today: make a list of ten events that took place in our pasts that shape our lives today. We were given a while to formulate our lists, then asked to share whatever we felt comfortable sharing with the group. When I began brainstorming, I was trying to go in chronological order (i.e., my great-grandma died when I was 2; it was my first experience with death). After a few minutes, however, events started jumping out at me. I realized that much of who I am now is a result of things that happened to me ten years ago!

For instance, my perfectionistic tendencies stretch all the way back to when I skipped first grade, then was irate when I couldn't get perfect 100s on third-grade level work. I knew that the rampant hypocrisy and eventual split of my parents' church made me more cynical about religious people, and religion in general.

I also realized how much my ex-fiance affected my life while we were together--and even now, when we're not. I've been doing a lot of thinking about relationships lately, mainly because 'G' and I have been discussing them. I think I am ready to start a new relationship under the condition that there is an understanding that it is 'for now'. No talk of marriage, of children, of a future beyond this year. I really miss having someone special, someone to be there and understand. I actually finally pulled out of my writing dry spell and managed to get my feelings down on paper the other day:

Gilded Cage

Please touch me.
I feel so alone,
deserted.
Trapped in a cage
of my own making—
one I wanted, created,
dreamed of.
I built it of my own will,
trying to be
my own fantasy
of how life should go:
Pretty. Smart. Successful.
Alone.
But as I watch
the gate swing shut,
I realize—
I want out.
I want peace
with myself.
I want to be satisfied
with who I am.
I want to be held
in your arms
all night long;
hearing your breath,
feeling your heart,
knowing you are there
to keep me from
myself.

Thank you, Daemon!

So things are finally starting to go my way. The gorgeous guitarist I want dumped his girlfriend because he doesn't "like her like that" anymore. Score one for me!!! His best friend is still trying to hook us up and is making progress. I got to bed at 5 this morning because "G" and I were talking until 4 a.m.!!

He originally came over to watch 'The Shining' but since 98% of our group wasn't sober, that didn't work so well. We talked with everyone for a while, then I offered him my Psych notes from last semester so we migrated to my room. After bonding over a shared love of Nirvana and classic rock we retrieved the pages from the communal printer and proceeded to spend the next couple of hours discussing our lives. He was born just a couple of hours from my hometown and has lived in South Dakota, Florida and North Dakota. We've both struggled with depression and suicidal tendencies (he attempted; I just cut myself). I gave him a head massage and we discussed whether or not love actually exists and hypocritical Bible thumpers. The night climaxed when he invited me to check out his band's jam session Tuesday night.

Oh, I almost forgot: I may have given him a name for his band! We were talking about Kurt Cobain's Journals and the fact that 'G' and I each have our own notebooks. I mentioned that my English Lit and Comp. class had discussed daemons (guardian spirits that inspire people) last semester. 'G' became incredibly excited and called me a goddess for giving him a good name.

Now I'm getting ready to hit the town with one of my friends. Heck yes, college is fun!