31 October 2008

where i am coming from

The entire Southern Gentleman situation has been swirling down the toilet since I announced my Argentine holiday.

He did not like that I went without him even though he would not commit to a date.

I specifically asked him to come for my birthday. Upon initially asking, he stated that he made plans to meet his friends, Sam and Suzie on my birthday but would see about changing the date. He had offered alternatives and I told him that any of those would work but I would appreciate if he could see about my actual birthday weekend.

Typically, The Southern Gentleman would go straight to work on getting things set up for his visit, regardless of whether it would be birthday weekend or a subsequent weekend.

That did not happen this time. Furthermore, when he did finally announce that he was not coming, he did not offer one of his previously free weekends either. His reason for not coming (meeting friends a town over) and he is being secretive makes me think he is being set up with a girl. However, being set up, regardless of its truth is neither here nor there.

The phone call was simply the icing on a series of less than stellar attitude from him since August. Emails have been laced with rudeness. Maybe he is having a bad go of it but I cannot tolerate him taking it out on me. An innocent bystander who is 1,500 miles away.

I was prepared to leave my wonderful life here for him.

I have not seen The Southern Gentleman in 7 months. Daily emails do not make up for face time. I cannot go visit him because I have not been invited. Additionally, when I did suggest it last year, I was shot down. As such, I have completely respected his desire to take the lead.

In six short months, it will be 9 years that I first met this man. It has been over a year that I have thought there could be something more there. I see no reason to continue pursuing something that varies on his whims. I cannot let his hangups/fears stand between me and my happiness. If he decides to come around and I am available, I will entertain the idea. However, I cannot continue to wait as precious time continues to pass me by.

30 October 2008

different and done

He called last night. Just like he said he would. We spoke for almost an hour. 48 minutes to be exact. But.

But something was different. He wasn't the same old Southern Gentleman. Something was missing in the lilt of his voice. I felt an undertone of annoyance at times. Not the usual lovey goodbye. Worse yet, no mention of a visit any time next month or ever. Something was off.

It has been a year. I am tired. I no longer have time for these reindeer games.

I am letting him go.

29 October 2008

just shoot me

the hurricane struck on Monday evening. rocked my world on all fronts yesterday. every single facet of my personal and work life.

icing on the cake... just received a note from The Southern Gentleman that he is not coming for my birthday.

will it ever get better?

27 October 2008

oh my pickled liver and the geico lizard chronicles

my social calendar has been non-stop since arriving home from holiday. not a speck of breathing room. i may be growing tired of burning the candles at both ends.

friday night we did a bit of bar hopping. edina, coco, and i enjoyed our libations privately prior to joining the larger group. edina and i ducked out before midnight for our beauty sleep and to ensure we made it to our wine tour.

the wine tour. well, i ended the day being thoroughly snockered. i voiced my opinion to the gigantic ego ass male who ran the tour and of course he is the type of man who hates for anyone to have an opinion, and oh heaven forbid that a woman dare question his supreme knowledge. needless to say he demanded i apologize for having an opinion. i nicely told him to go screw himself.

however, we had a good time. too much wine consumed. i missed the halloween party, but know it was better that way.

sunday i had a break down - amen there wasn't an accompanying hangover. we've established that i grew up with a lack of creepy-crawlies. well yesterday there was a code blue in the house because a chameleon lizard character attempted come inside the house. he bears a striking resemblance to the geico lizard. but even picturing the cheeky little chap did not help.
[lizard + sliding glass door with crappy screen + me = (sheer terror + me)*10,000] - (dogs oblivious)

no, it was not pretty at all. i was a pure, unadulterated basket case crying on the phone to my father to come to Austin now and take care of it! that tactic did not work as all my dear old dad did was laugh hysterically. i could not kill the lizard though. i whispered to the lizard from afar, asking him go back the way he came. finally with a lot of deep breathing, praying, and pleading, the lizard finally did move to the outside facing door pane. I pushed the door closed with the broom handle, lest lizard decide to try coming back in. after hours of terror, the perimeter was secure.

i hate creepy-crawlies. how am i ever going to survive in the south?

22 October 2008

how memories get me in trouble

This morning while washing my face, a ghost from my past randomly jumped into my thoughts. The Doctor.

I haven't thought about The Doctor for eons. In fact, it feels like that entire tryst occurred in another lifetime altogether. My grad school days of yore.

The snippet that danced across my cortex was when I had just graduated with my masters and returned from a quick trip to Mexico. The Doctor had been waxing and waning from my life for about two years at that point. He always wanted me, wooing me relentlessly, mercilessly but he possessed a fear of me as well. Digging into the fear would give me enough material for a Ph.D. dissertation, so we won't peak beneath those covers right now.

Earlier that summer I began working on a new account and The Doctor knew where I worked part-time as we'd obviously talk about it. Upon return from my Mexican holiday, I went to the office and ran right into The Doctor. As my two worlds collided, he happily explained that he was working for the client (as we were collocated on-site). I could not believe it. As if to be seeing him daily. For hours on end. I was flabbergasted. What a lengths a boy would go for me!

During this time, we did grow close. I can still see the goofy smile that would cross his face every time he saw me. He truly did adore me. However, lots of drama ensued; primarily spearheaded by his manipulative best friend. The Doctor chose his bff''s choice of girlfriend for him over what his own heart told him. And as they say, the rest is history.

So my little detective heart took a peak at facebook today. And guess who is on there... yup, y'all are bright and guessing right! The Surgeon.

Based on the photographic evidence, he is still married to bff's choice and has two children. The Doctor immediately sent me an email. The best part is the portion where he happily states he is coming to Austin this winter and would love to see me again.

13 October 2008

they say you can never go home again: part II

During that Saturday morning while doing laundry, I thought long and hard about attending this wedding alone, per the original plan. I am a strong, independent woman who can hold her own. However, the mere thought of sitting through the wedding and reception alone, without someone to share the pain was unbearable. Try as hard as I might, if the bachelorette party was this bad, the actual wedding had no hope. Especially since this was to be a small, intimate wedding. The mother of the bride would be busy entertaining guests and I would be stuck alone with the bitchy girls from the night before. I decided it was better to have Montana Man there with me and so I asked him to join me when he called later in the day.

Clearly, my specifically asking him to join me was exactly what he sought because he started to protest a bit to induce me into asking a bit more. In order to get a rise out of me, Montana Man stated that he did not want to get dressed for the wedding and was going to wear jeans. Normally, I would have protested, however, I was thrilled he was going to suffer with me that I told him, “you can wear jeans, or a suit, or simply your underwear; I don’t care.” The plan was set; I would pick him up and then we’d whisk down to the clubhouse to endure the nuptials.

I also looked at my asking him to join me as step in cementing the friendship aspect of us. His escorting me was merely what one does for a friend. Our relationship ended long ago and I have been away for 1 ½ years, which has greatly changed me and any landscape we might have had. I was firm in my resolve that we would have nice time, enjoy a few cocktails, exchange knowing looks over the ridiculous, and the night would be over.

In all of this, the thought of my super secret holiday streaked across my mind. There would not be anyone I knew at this wedding besides the bride’s parents and they will be so busy, nervous, relieved that my holiday would not be mentioned. Besides, the day is all about the bride. Furthermore, Montana Man is not a popular character with the bride’s parents and I assumed they would be cautious and wondering why the hell he was with me. I rationalized it all away complete with crossing t’s and dotting i's.

Montana Man called late on Saturday evening but I was so dead to the world that my sleeping ears never heard the ringing. No message.

Sunday. The big day. As this was an evening wedding, I got to repack and go through the mail, knowing nothing else would get accomplished once I left the house. I tried on three dresses and decided to wear the Anne Klein chocolate brown dress. It was smart and not too flashy. Plus it is a size 8 which made me do cartwheels down the hall. Simple, classic.

Dressed and looking particularly good, I hopped in the car to wheel myself south toward the wedding. Montana Man called me along the way to explain the procedure when I reached the guard shack of his subdivision. Made it through the guard detail fine; however, I did get hopelessly lost trying to find his house. After many u-turns, dodging deer, and heightened blood pressure, Montana Man is waiting for me in his driveway with a glass of red wine in his hand. I climbed out of the car and he handed me the glass of wine, telling me, “I could hear it in your voice that you need this after your tour of the area.” I happily take the wine and take a hearty swallow of the red goodness. After a few sips, relaxation does come over me. We went inside his home and he proceeded to start a small home tour as I have not been here before. His backyard is spectacular and I was enthralled watching the deer munch on grass. I turned to him to tell him how beautiful it is and he cut me off saying how happy he was to see me. Montana Man looked at me with goofy, loving eyes then gave me a big hug and simultaneously grabbed my bum and tried to give me a kiss that I quickly turned into a cheek kiss.

As we stroll past the kitchen, Montana Man took the bottle of wine to pour himself a glass. He picked up the bottle and I noticed that the ¾ of the bottle is already gone. He also tops off my glass. We finished the main floor tour and our wine.

Time to head off to the wedding. I drove the 3 minutes to the golf course and got rock star parking. We strolled over to where the white chairs were set up on the lawn for the ceremony. There are 50 chairs total, the bride and groom’s side each being five chairs across and five chairs deep. There was hardly anyone present. It was 5:00 PM. The wedding begins at 5:00 PM.

Montana Man wanted to sit in the back row. I protested because there were so few people and the skeleton crew was all hiding in the back row already. I explained this wasn’t a class, but a wedding, so we must be near the front to celebrate. We took the seats in third row, the two closest to the aisle. The bride’s family sat in the first two rows. The maid of honor’s (bride’s sister) boyfriend, Idiot, sat directly in front of me in the second row. Idiot looked directly at me and then turned back around in his seat. I breathed a sigh of relief because I am not fond of him (as if you didn’t already figure that out by how I described him). It took him a few minutes to register who I was and then he turned right back around and said in a big, loud voice, “How was Argentina?!”

My heart stopped.

to be continued.....

09 October 2008

they say you can never go home again: part I

My first weekend back in the U.S. was a doozy. More specifically that Sunday was a memorable day. However, the term memorable doesn’t serve as the optimal word to best summarize the events. There are a host of words and feelings whirling through my being.

In order for you to assist in my quest for the perfect single word summary, sit back and enjoy the tale…

My holiday was a bit longer than that of my traveling companions because I had a wedding to attend in the Mile High City. Rather than return to the Texas heat and humidity on Friday afternoon, I returned home to my comfy, fluffy king sized bed and square footage I can stretch out in.

On my drive from the airport, I felt strongly compelled to call Montana Man. (Important Note: I did not tell Montana Man about my overseas holiday!) Montana Man does not say hello upon answering the phone; instead I am greeted by “where the hell have you been!?” said with a strong dose of worry and anger. I was not prepared for him to have any emotion. With my party line already prepared, I respond, “I had to jump off the grid for a bit. I needed the break without world distraction.”

He was unfazed. Obviously Montana Man had been practicing his tirade, “I have been worried sick about you. I am so mad at you right now. How could you just disappear like that without a single word? Do you understand that you are in Texas, all by yourself and I worried about you? That something happened to you and you were alone. You could have had an accident and been in a hospital alone. Your phone was off. You weren’t on instant messenger. You didn’t respond to email. I even emailed you at work. I almost sent an email to your father. Your father. Do you understand the gravity of that? That is how worried I was about you.”

Caught completely off-guard, I tell him, “I am sorry that you were worried, but I needed to disappear for a bit.” “The least you could have done, should have done is tell me that you needed to disappear. I would have respected that.” My brain kicks in, “Do you know how many times you caused me great worry. I can tell you the number of times I reluctantly went to your house, afraid I’d find a dead body. I worried about you a lot. So now we are even.” All he could muster was a “this is different.” I am simply thinking to myself since when do I owe him any explanation for any of my whereabouts? We go weeks without talking now, so something pretty big must have happened while I was away. To discover what he needed from me while I was gone, I inquire about the girls. “They are okay. But that doesn’t change the fact that I am mad at you.” The conversation ends with Montana Man saying he will call me later.

Of course on the drive home, I could not stop thinking about how off the mark I was naively believing he’d barely notice I was missing. So not expecting that. And why the lecture about worry? Since when does he possess care and concern about me? I write it off to reason #3,573 why men are weird.

Montana Man calls me later that evening while I remain delirious from zero sleep since stepping foot on the plane the day before and he inquires if he is accompanying me to the wedding. My response is either way, he can come if he wishes or not. He is clearly taken aback by my laissez faire attitude. The call ends with another “will call you tomorrow” from him.

Friday night I attend the bachelorette party, which is a travesty with the bride not wanting to do shots and being afraid to approach men to complete the items on her scavenger hunt list. All the girls in attendance were in their early-to-mid 20s and quite unfriendly. Only one gal would speak back to me. I called it quits at 10 PM, blaming it on jet lag whereas in reality I was tired of being odd chick out.

to be continued...

07 October 2008

rising from the reams of copy paper

Re-acclimating to reality has not been fun. Back in the saddle: week two started at the crack of dawn this morning. Actually it wasn't even dawn yet because it was pitch black outside.

Needless to say, I am still buried under thirteen stories of neglected work. I keep hoping to see the end but alas I am not quite that lucky. yet. Holiday was fun but so much has happened since I returned to U.S. soil.

And the fun started as soon as I was literally on U.S. terra because at 5:30 in the morning, the U.S. immigration officer actually hit on me! Typically, those officer people are no nonsense and lack a personality. Not this guy. In my disheveled, been on a plane for 17 days freshness, the officer asks, "So, home is the Mile High City?" I give the brilliant answer, "yes." He swipes my passport through the fancy-dancy reader and says, "That's too bad. You cleared the system so I can't keep you here, even though I would really like too." Being half asleep, again moving before the crack of dawn, I couldn't muster a witty response because I was mortified at his non-official talk. So instead I muttered something about just being happy to be home. Obviously, I am quite out of practice and fairly useless without caffeine coursing through my veins.

However, there are stories to come, but I need to pay my mortgage first. But I know y'all will be patient because there is an especially juicy tale of Montana Man adventures just waiting to be told