This Is Not The Post I Was Supposed to Be Writing
This is not the post I was supposed to be writing. You probably surmised that from the title though. Subtlety will never be quite within my grasp; hopefully its charming.
I was supposed to be writing about my awesome vacation to Canyonlands and Arches national parks. I should be writing about the 12 mile hike I did last Thursday when I hurt my knee, which felt far more painful when walking downhill, and some guy on the trail commented "Yeah, that's what happens when you get older...everything hurts more going downhill." I should be writing about the highly uncharacteristic instances of emotional bonding between my emotionally stunted father and myself, and what an incredible surprise gift that was.
But I am not writing of these things. No, I am, of course, writing about stupid boys. One very stupid boy in particular. I'm sure its virtually impossible to guess who....
Last night Mr. Emotionally Unavailable braved an evening with my overprotective and slightly aggressive drunken girlfriends, one of whom has always been my "big sister", and is highly likely to castrate any man she honestly thought maliciously hurtful. I gave him due warning so that he could run before it was too late, but instead upon introduction he commented "Hi, I'm Mr. Emotionally Unavailable and I'm planning on hurting Synge deeply." I was the only one who found this comment very funny, but I get his sense of humor; its one of the things I really like about him.
He was slightly ganged up upon (warning: severe understatement) but weathered the storm quite well in true smart ass form. Some choice quotes include:
- After being told that his reputation preceeded him and that only bad things had been said about him, he replied, "Well your reputation preceeds you as well - I heard you were very sweet and kind. But I don't judge based on reputation; I can only go on the behavior I am witnessing in this moment. And I must say that you're not behaving very politely."
-When my big sister told him that she was really the one he needed to impress he said, "No, actually Synge is really the person I need to impress. She's the only one I'm concerned about impressing. She's the most important person here."
-When asked what he thought of me, he replied, "I adore Synge. What do you think of Synge?"
I was actually secretly thrilled that he came out to meet my friends, and kind of thought it was a bit of a big deal. He had admitted on Saturday that he had missed me, and here he was meeting my "big sister" - something I would have thought he would find to be way too boyfriend-y for his taste. I felt important to him.
I spoke to him on the phone just before beginning this blog entry. Basking in the glow of my perceived importance I became bold. I asked when I could see him this week, and he replied that his family was coming into town for a week starting tomorrow and that he didn't know their schedule. I pushed onward to discover that he had plans this evening. In our particular means of communicating, unverbalized general plans is usually how we tell eachother that we have a date with someone else (though I am usually far more honest and overly descriptive about my dating adventures to him). My brakes failed; I went full speed ahead. Downhill. I asked if his plans were extending all night. This is when he told me about "Brooklyn Girl" (ironically named in true Synge form by him).
I am not a jealous person. I have been relatively okay with the lack of commitment to date, being the commitment-phobe that I am. In all honesty, this is in part because I've never felt threatened by the other womyn (or one might cattily refer to them as girl things if one were to indulge in meaningless cattiness while pretentiously referring to themselves in the third person). This is the first one that it sounds like he really likes, and suddenly the tables have turned. Suddenly Brooklyn Girl has become a gigantic looming monster in my overactive imagination.
With a very flat tummy.
I, naturally, proceeded to lose what little speech ability I had heretofore lay dubious claim to. I nodded, which is always oh-so-useful when communicating telephonically. I finally managed to say "well, just let me know when you want to..."...."See you?", he completed what we both knew was probably not my thought. "How about this weekend? I'm sure I can find some time, and I would like to see you." I replied "actually, dump me was more the thought there, but sure, this weekend sounds great."
I was very honest and open and told him it was hard to hear and that I was still ingesting it...the part about him actually liking Brooklyn Girl, that is. I told him to have fun on his date tonight. He told me not to be mean. I replied that the comment was sincere, and what was I supposed to say? Have a horrible time I hope she turns out to be a freak? I said, okay, here's the equally honest compromise. I hope you don't like her more than you like me.
He said "I like you a lot." I said "I know you do", and I truly believe he does.
I also wonder when "like" will finally not be enough. I wonder when I will stop transposing certain letters in the word "like" thus creating a different meaning. I wonder when I will stop hoping that the snail's pace growth in the little world of "us" will eventually magically turn into something with a bit more stability than the "maybe we'll see eachother this week" that it is right now.
Don't get me wrong, despite the rash of weddings and babies I'm currently bombarded with, I'm not saying I'm about to break into a woeful off key rendition of Somewhere That's Green or anything. I'm just saying what if he's the dentist?
I also found my first gray hair today. It's been taunting me mercilessly all day.
The Brooklyn Girl Monster with the flat stomach definitely does not posess a single strand of gray hair.
But I bet she can't hike 12 miles scrambling up and down slickrock canyons!
(that's so not really a comfort)
I was supposed to be writing about my awesome vacation to Canyonlands and Arches national parks. I should be writing about the 12 mile hike I did last Thursday when I hurt my knee, which felt far more painful when walking downhill, and some guy on the trail commented "Yeah, that's what happens when you get older...everything hurts more going downhill." I should be writing about the highly uncharacteristic instances of emotional bonding between my emotionally stunted father and myself, and what an incredible surprise gift that was.
But I am not writing of these things. No, I am, of course, writing about stupid boys. One very stupid boy in particular. I'm sure its virtually impossible to guess who....
Last night Mr. Emotionally Unavailable braved an evening with my overprotective and slightly aggressive drunken girlfriends, one of whom has always been my "big sister", and is highly likely to castrate any man she honestly thought maliciously hurtful. I gave him due warning so that he could run before it was too late, but instead upon introduction he commented "Hi, I'm Mr. Emotionally Unavailable and I'm planning on hurting Synge deeply." I was the only one who found this comment very funny, but I get his sense of humor; its one of the things I really like about him.
He was slightly ganged up upon (warning: severe understatement) but weathered the storm quite well in true smart ass form. Some choice quotes include:
- After being told that his reputation preceeded him and that only bad things had been said about him, he replied, "Well your reputation preceeds you as well - I heard you were very sweet and kind. But I don't judge based on reputation; I can only go on the behavior I am witnessing in this moment. And I must say that you're not behaving very politely."
-When my big sister told him that she was really the one he needed to impress he said, "No, actually Synge is really the person I need to impress. She's the only one I'm concerned about impressing. She's the most important person here."
-When asked what he thought of me, he replied, "I adore Synge. What do you think of Synge?"
I was actually secretly thrilled that he came out to meet my friends, and kind of thought it was a bit of a big deal. He had admitted on Saturday that he had missed me, and here he was meeting my "big sister" - something I would have thought he would find to be way too boyfriend-y for his taste. I felt important to him.
I spoke to him on the phone just before beginning this blog entry. Basking in the glow of my perceived importance I became bold. I asked when I could see him this week, and he replied that his family was coming into town for a week starting tomorrow and that he didn't know their schedule. I pushed onward to discover that he had plans this evening. In our particular means of communicating, unverbalized general plans is usually how we tell eachother that we have a date with someone else (though I am usually far more honest and overly descriptive about my dating adventures to him). My brakes failed; I went full speed ahead. Downhill. I asked if his plans were extending all night. This is when he told me about "Brooklyn Girl" (ironically named in true Synge form by him).
I am not a jealous person. I have been relatively okay with the lack of commitment to date, being the commitment-phobe that I am. In all honesty, this is in part because I've never felt threatened by the other womyn (or one might cattily refer to them as girl things if one were to indulge in meaningless cattiness while pretentiously referring to themselves in the third person). This is the first one that it sounds like he really likes, and suddenly the tables have turned. Suddenly Brooklyn Girl has become a gigantic looming monster in my overactive imagination.
With a very flat tummy.
I, naturally, proceeded to lose what little speech ability I had heretofore lay dubious claim to. I nodded, which is always oh-so-useful when communicating telephonically. I finally managed to say "well, just let me know when you want to..."...."See you?", he completed what we both knew was probably not my thought. "How about this weekend? I'm sure I can find some time, and I would like to see you." I replied "actually, dump me was more the thought there, but sure, this weekend sounds great."
I was very honest and open and told him it was hard to hear and that I was still ingesting it...the part about him actually liking Brooklyn Girl, that is. I told him to have fun on his date tonight. He told me not to be mean. I replied that the comment was sincere, and what was I supposed to say? Have a horrible time I hope she turns out to be a freak? I said, okay, here's the equally honest compromise. I hope you don't like her more than you like me.
He said "I like you a lot." I said "I know you do", and I truly believe he does.
I also wonder when "like" will finally not be enough. I wonder when I will stop transposing certain letters in the word "like" thus creating a different meaning. I wonder when I will stop hoping that the snail's pace growth in the little world of "us" will eventually magically turn into something with a bit more stability than the "maybe we'll see eachother this week" that it is right now.
Don't get me wrong, despite the rash of weddings and babies I'm currently bombarded with, I'm not saying I'm about to break into a woeful off key rendition of Somewhere That's Green or anything. I'm just saying what if he's the dentist?
I also found my first gray hair today. It's been taunting me mercilessly all day.
The Brooklyn Girl Monster with the flat stomach definitely does not posess a single strand of gray hair.
But I bet she can't hike 12 miles scrambling up and down slickrock canyons!
(that's so not really a comfort)
posted by Le Synge Bleu at 7:47 PM
5 Comments:
Take the way home that leads back to Sullivan Street. That's meaningless, of course, but I'm listening to Counting Crows alone at 4:30 a.m. on a Tuesday (yet another lyrical reference) and reading your wonderful post. I like the way you go for the heart AND the funnybone in your writing...it's your gift. And it's a fine one at that.
Do you ever feel like giving in to sorrow about people you miss? I could use a box of tissues and some of that Ben and Jerry's stuff...get in touch with that feminine side, or whatever. Instead, I will take a handful of the magic white pills and get myself some sweet oblivion. They used to be magic blue pills, but I evidently don't deserve that dosage anymore. But hey, I'll take what I can get. Anything for sleep.
God. I'm blogging on your blog. I'm lonely. Go figure. I'm going to e-mail our mutual friend. I've learned that my little emotional crisis kind of got in the way there. Took me long enough to figure it out. I hope she's well, and happy. I thought about her all night at work.
Night, Synge. And yeah, you gotta give the guy credit for running that gauntlet. Wish I had the nerve to do something like that!
Oh Synge. Why do you do this to yourself? I don't know if Mr. Emotionally Unavailable reads your blog, but I'm sorry. Mr. Emotionally Unavailable is an asshole. He has told you as much. He has told you in so many ways that he is not going to be what you want him to be or if he is he is not going to be that to you. Having been on both sides of the fence, I can honestly say that it is so much better to be with a man who LOVES you and CARES for you. A man who loves and cares for you does not date other women. He may SAY he loves and/or cares for you, but he doesn't. Because what he does hurts you. And when you love someone, you don't intentionally hurt him or her. Not if you are a well individual...the kind of person you want to be with. So maybe Mr. EU is not an asshole. Maybe he's just not...well...emotionally available!!!
The question is, what in the hell are you doing with him? I don't mean this to sound bitchy. It's not meant to be bitchy at all. But you are wasting your time. Your life is not endless. You ARE getting older. Time flies when you're pining over some jerk who doesn't deserve you. Why are you wasting your truly precious life being sad over a guy who is clearly (forgive the term....) "just not that into you" when there are so many guys out there who really would treat you well and be good to you because they would know how lucky they are to find someone like you.
You say that you are not a victim. So why act like one? I think it's time you figured out why being treated well scares you so much, and more importatly, figure out how to get over that. Contrary to what I think is your belief, not all nice guys are boring and maybe you would want to be a part of a club or two that would have you as a member.
Love and hugs,
Your "psychotic" friend
Life is short. Find a boyfriend who will give you something positive to write about, one who won't jerk you around via your friends or try to be the alpha among a bunch of females. Won't work.
I don't really know you, but based on Vixanne's high esteem of you, I'd bet it's time for you to move onward and upward. My 2ยข.
Hmmmmph!!!
I, personally, HATE brooklyngirl and can find NOTHING nice to say to her,even to appease Mr.E.U.
::sigh:: as reading this, my stomach clenched. it is far too familiar to me. so often i wish i could just forget about my mr.e.u. ...
But you're a lot tougher than I am... do you think you could get in a snide comment at him for me?
;)
::hug,::
sgt
i'm glad vix and kristoise got to this first and said everything i wanted to, because after being the totally overprotective and aggressive (and TOTALLY drunk, i might add in my defense) "big sister" the other night, i don't know if i'm still allowed to say all of that now
that Mr. EU has turned back into everything i was trying to over-protect you from. in other words, this is no 'i told you so'; i love you far too much to be so mean when you are so blue. but it is time to pack up the band kid, the party's over. you have enough sadness in your life that is totally beyond your control to subject yourself to something that you have the ability to control (ie. end). i love you, kristose and vixanne and vidipookins and sawah, and tons of other people who's blog names i don't know love you; you don't need to keep spending time with someone who does not. "i like you a lot" just sounds worse and worse the longer you go, and kristoise is right, you may not want or need the ring and the picket fence, but you DESERVE the love and the respect and the happiness.
i am not sorry that i am your over-protective big sister, and i am not sorry that i would gladly hurt and maim any man who was mean to you. you would do the same thing for me. and now i am not sorry that i was snarky to Mr. EU the other night, he clearly deserved it. and i think he was wrong- you are not the only one he needs to impress, because i love you more than you do, and therefore he does need to impress me too.
he doesn't.
on a much lighter note, i had a wonderful time visiting you, and i want to do it again soon. and i'm sorry you caught my gray hairs- who knew it was contagious?
i love you baby sister of mine, and i always will.
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