And so I sent the little note to Bernard.
Short, sweet and with my phone number.
I have heard nothing. Cue the crickets chirping.
Surprisingly, I am not really disappointed. Of course, I have other concerns that are taking precedence. Silly little concerns like my employment and how to make my current job okay. I don't feel like I can excel in this current role because everything is so status quo... an environment that tells me "do this because that's what we've always done." I need more room to grow and when I expressed this along with a few other things to my boss, he was less than supportive. Now, I have to do damage control until I can figure out the way forward. Right now, damage control isn't going so swimmingly.
I also have to get the home remodel finished. I need to be fully unpacked and organised soon. I just want everything done so I can simply enjoy my surroundings.
Missing Austin has been right up there too. I miss my friends, my Texas life. It is the little things like people aren't as friendly in the shops here... let's be honest people aren't as friendly here in general, which has caused me to close down a fair amount... my former open Texas-ness is slipping away and I am not happy about it.
For the past twenty years, I have been working very hard to leave Colorado. From the moment I applied for university, my sole mission was to leave the state forever. While I successfully leave for short or long periods of time, I always find myself back here.
A few months after I returned to Denver last year, I had an epiphany. After many years and many failed attempts at permanent exodus from Colorado, I realized that maybe I need to learn to be happy here, find happiness here before I can finally be free. The theory makes so much sense to me and forces to me try a little harder every day. Unfortunately, Colorado happiness continues to elude me.
So these are the thoughts and ideas actively swirling throughout my head occupying more space than the sound of crickets from Bernard.
11 July 2013
09 July 2013
what sound does a chicken make?
Yes, I fully own and admit that at 38 years old, I remain a big old chicken when it comes to dealing with the opposite sex. The simple question I should have asked when I dropped off Bernard but didn't because I said "cluck, cluck" instead of "what's your number?"
And rectifying that oversight should be easy. Just send Bernard a short little note. With my phone number. But I am flip-flopping on that decision like a catfish on land. Ugh! What the &*#% is wrong with me!!
Fear of rejection is definitely a big player here. But then again at this stage of the game, rejection should be on par with discovering a pimple erupting on my face - a non-issue. Somehow though, the fear's grip remains tight. I am sure there are other unconscious/subconscious things going on just below the surface too. Things like the Ghosts of Christmas Pasts and not wanting to make those poor decisions again (I hear fear in that statement. Fear simply wearing another mask.)
But I need to remind myself that mistakes are there to be made to that I learn enough to recognise when the right one walks in. I haven't really been on a date in a long time. I know I need to keep trying, being an active participant but. That's what waylays everything... the damn "but".
I am so tired of being alone. Just me and the two pups. I know I need to do something about it. Baby steps, as my darling therapist of long ago taught me, baby steps.
I need to throw caution to the wind. Write a simple, short note. Push send. And not worry. If Bernard doesn't answer, so what (right?)? But he just may. In reality, I have nothing to lose and everything to gain.
Be brave, Patsy dear. As Nike force feeds you the slogan - just do it!
And rectifying that oversight should be easy. Just send Bernard a short little note. With my phone number. But I am flip-flopping on that decision like a catfish on land. Ugh! What the &*#% is wrong with me!!
Fear of rejection is definitely a big player here. But then again at this stage of the game, rejection should be on par with discovering a pimple erupting on my face - a non-issue. Somehow though, the fear's grip remains tight. I am sure there are other unconscious/subconscious things going on just below the surface too. Things like the Ghosts of Christmas Pasts and not wanting to make those poor decisions again (I hear fear in that statement. Fear simply wearing another mask.)
But I need to remind myself that mistakes are there to be made to that I learn enough to recognise when the right one walks in. I haven't really been on a date in a long time. I know I need to keep trying, being an active participant but. That's what waylays everything... the damn "but".
I am so tired of being alone. Just me and the two pups. I know I need to do something about it. Baby steps, as my darling therapist of long ago taught me, baby steps.
I need to throw caution to the wind. Write a simple, short note. Push send. And not worry. If Bernard doesn't answer, so what (right?)? But he just may. In reality, I have nothing to lose and everything to gain.
Be brave, Patsy dear. As Nike force feeds you the slogan - just do it!
08 July 2013
an evening of unexpected fireworks
Wednesday night a few of us met up downtown at a roof top patio for cocktails and to later watch the fireworks. The group wasn't stellar but a few of my favorite people were in attendance so I was content.
As the evening wore on, we had a new arrival to the group but I really didn't pay much attention as girl talk took precedence. Now, we all know that I am fairly (read: extremely) oblivious to figuring out when boys like me, but after an hour or so of the new guy staring at me, I decided I should pay a bit of attention to Bernard, especially when a few of my friends made a comment about said staring.
Once engaged, he was delightful and was only concerned with speaking with me. Bernard would talk with the others but would be looking at me when answering the others. There was something there, a spark I'd long forgot the feeling of. He was engaging, kind, and everything about him felt so genuine. Bernard eats clean causing me to swoon when he said he avoids processed foods, only shopping in the meat, produce, and dairy departments. He owns his own business and is obtaining another degree to push him over the top - more swooning for ambitious and doing something about it. Bernard is also tall with a good sense of humor and zest for life.
Several times throughout the evening, Bernard stated he was so glad he stumbled upon us. He asked questions to probe my interest. He moved my chair so I would be right next to him.
Then Bernard casually mentioned his age while stating that some of the other bar patrons looked like kids. He is eight years younger than me. Enter the social stigmas and negative perceptions into my mind. Why is it that I immediately found myself thinking he was too young for me? Negative thoughts of being called a young cougar, the judgments.
The double standard of American society that says it is perfectly fine for a man to be with a significantly younger woman but the reverse doesn't apply. I have always been adverse to younger men due to maturity level. But I had assumed Bernard was only a few years younger than me. He has his act together and felt like my contemporary.
At the end of the evening, several of us, Bernard included went back to a friend's house since public transport options were virtually nil that time of night. We played a few games, watched a bit of telly while enjoying a few cocktails. Bernard and I shared a bed but nothing beyond sleeping happened, for which I was grateful.
The morning was made a bit awkward by me since I was in the same clothes I'd been in the night before and slept it and for once in my life I did not have chewing gum so I was embarrassed because I am a girly-girl like that. I dropped Bernard at the light rail station and we had a delightful conversation along the way.
I was waiting for Bernard to ask for my phone number but he didn't and I was too afraid to ask. I am thinking that was due to awkward morning more than anything else.
I truly liked Bernard and would like to get to know him better. I do have a way of contacting him and am thinking I should reach out to him. Open the door to opportunity.
As the evening wore on, we had a new arrival to the group but I really didn't pay much attention as girl talk took precedence. Now, we all know that I am fairly (read: extremely) oblivious to figuring out when boys like me, but after an hour or so of the new guy staring at me, I decided I should pay a bit of attention to Bernard, especially when a few of my friends made a comment about said staring.
Once engaged, he was delightful and was only concerned with speaking with me. Bernard would talk with the others but would be looking at me when answering the others. There was something there, a spark I'd long forgot the feeling of. He was engaging, kind, and everything about him felt so genuine. Bernard eats clean causing me to swoon when he said he avoids processed foods, only shopping in the meat, produce, and dairy departments. He owns his own business and is obtaining another degree to push him over the top - more swooning for ambitious and doing something about it. Bernard is also tall with a good sense of humor and zest for life.
Several times throughout the evening, Bernard stated he was so glad he stumbled upon us. He asked questions to probe my interest. He moved my chair so I would be right next to him.
Then Bernard casually mentioned his age while stating that some of the other bar patrons looked like kids. He is eight years younger than me. Enter the social stigmas and negative perceptions into my mind. Why is it that I immediately found myself thinking he was too young for me? Negative thoughts of being called a young cougar, the judgments.
The double standard of American society that says it is perfectly fine for a man to be with a significantly younger woman but the reverse doesn't apply. I have always been adverse to younger men due to maturity level. But I had assumed Bernard was only a few years younger than me. He has his act together and felt like my contemporary.
At the end of the evening, several of us, Bernard included went back to a friend's house since public transport options were virtually nil that time of night. We played a few games, watched a bit of telly while enjoying a few cocktails. Bernard and I shared a bed but nothing beyond sleeping happened, for which I was grateful.
The morning was made a bit awkward by me since I was in the same clothes I'd been in the night before and slept it and for once in my life I did not have chewing gum so I was embarrassed because I am a girly-girl like that. I dropped Bernard at the light rail station and we had a delightful conversation along the way.
I was waiting for Bernard to ask for my phone number but he didn't and I was too afraid to ask. I am thinking that was due to awkward morning more than anything else.
I truly liked Bernard and would like to get to know him better. I do have a way of contacting him and am thinking I should reach out to him. Open the door to opportunity.
05 July 2013
Some things refuse to disappear
As if to have arrived via SMS yesterday afternoon:
The Southern Gentleman - "Not a big Zombie fan, but World War Z film was pretty sweet. Thought it was way better than Man of Steel. Have a happy & sale Fourth of July! Happy B-day USA?"
The Southern Gentleman - "Not a big Zombie fan, but World War Z film was pretty sweet. Thought it was way better than Man of Steel. Have a happy & sale Fourth of July! Happy B-day USA?"
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