In regards to this post about the boy I told in front of 30+ classmates that I wanted to run naked through his hair--I found him this weekend while MyStalking.
And he's bald! Bald!
As in that is his head and there isn't so much as fuzz on there!
I am so distraught.
~Tuesday, May 22, 2007
In regards to this post about the boy I told in front of 30+ classmates that I wanted to run naked through his hair--I found him this weekend while MyStalking.
~Friday, May 18, 2007
I was done with Jack. Done. He didn't act surprised that I knew about the movie and he used the pronoun "we" without any other descriptors. "We just got done watching the movie and now I have to go home to work." I figured the only reason he was calling me was because he knew he was busted.
"But there's something I really want to tell you."
"I can't right now. I gotta go. You can tell me some other time."
I hung up the phone. Incredible, I thought. He doesn't care about me at all. I made a gin and tonic and sat down in front of the computer and remade another on-line profile. I needed a date with someone--anyone--else.
A new friend hired a local improv troupe to perform at her birthday party Saturday night. The group hung around afterwards and I went and made my hellos while grabbing another beer.
"You're the Seussical girl!"
Awesome. A new nickname. They had asked for a style of theatre and I shouted "Seussical!" to which no one knew what that meant. After I explained what it was, the boys laughed and did the best they could to improv a scene in the style of musical Dr. Seuss.
"Yeah, you made me feel dumb for shouting it out and no one knew what it was," I teased.
"No I loved it! It proved real improv because you had to explain it and we had to then perform it." He opened a fresh beer, "Have you been to our theatre before?"
"No, I just saw y'all at the Park events last summer."
"Do you remember me?" his friend asks.
"Were you hammered?"
I wasn't, but it was too soon to deliver a blow to the actor's ego. "Yes."
"I still can't believe you wouldn't remember me!" He lifted up the brace he uses to walk and acknowledged it.
"Well there was a guy in a wheelchair there last summer, right?"
"Yeah, but he works for the other improv house."
"Well I remember him! Maybe if you were more handicapped, I would have remembered you too!" I joked, and then realized immediately what an asshole comment that was.
The first guy doubles over laughing, "You've got moxie kid! What are you doing after the party?"
"Well we're going drinking in [borough]. You want to join us?"
I probably would have said no had it not been the same borough that I live in. But it was and I was still mad at Jack. We exchanged numbers and they said they would call me when they were settled in a bar, and they left while I stayed on with my friends.
I met up with the group of guys a little after midnight. It's been awhile since I immersed myself in a new group and I was grateful for the opportunity. This is what I needed. Not surprisingly, I fit in with the group of guys very well. They may have been improv actors, but I can hold my own in wit and humor.
I was warned about one guy in particular. He was from New York and was crude and crass. So when I knocked him off his pedestal three separate times, I was formally inducted into the group.
"You've got moxie kid; we like you!" they cheered.
"Why do you keep saying that I have moxie?"
"Because you do! I can already tell: you're opinionated, sassy, and if you think someone is wrong, you have no problem putting him in his place."
I wasn't comfortable with the idea that I project those characteristics to people that don't know me. The girl they were depicting, I can describe in one word: bitch. I brushed the idea away, seeing as they are enjoying the girl with moxie, "And what's with the kid? Why do you keep calling me a kid?"
"That just goes with the saying. You can't say 'moxie' without 'kid.'"
I liked the guy. I wasn't immediately attracted to him--the boy needed a new haircut and an ironing board in a desperate kind of way--but as I talked with him, I realized that he's both cool and easy-going. He charms without trying too hard and he mingles with the group.
Instead being parked next to my side. Like his friend, the one I couldn't remember from last summer.
The friend was warm. He used his crutch effortlessly and I didn't have a problem with it at all, but as the night continued, the friend transitioned from warm to, well, forward.
"You deserve a steak dinner and a bottle of wine for putting up with my friends the way you do. What about tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow is Mother's Day." Stop trying so hard! my head pleaded.
"Well, whatever we become..."
Whatever we've become? I've known you for two hours. Just drink your beer and relax like your friend over there... mmmm.
It's entirely possible that the guy was only being cool because there was no pressure, because it was obvious that the friend had already staked claim to me. But what about what I wanted?
When it was time for me to go--it was after 4 a.m. and we had moved on the guy's house which was only a few miles from my own--the guy gave me a perfect hug.
"You're welcome here anytime. See ya later, Moxie. That's what I'm calling you for now on."
Awesome. A new nickname. I was hoping for an in to exchange numbers, but his friend butted in, "I'll walk you to your car."
As we walked to my car, he spoke of future dates he wanted to take me on, and I wasn't opposed to them, but I wanted to see if there was anything with the first guy--the one who dubbed me Moxie.
Is that possible? To transition to the other friend? Or is that something out of my league?
Love, Sarah at 3:09 PM|
~Thursday, May 17, 2007
Text message received Friday, May 11th at 8:30 p.m. from Harvey:
Is Jack seeing Spider-Man 3 tonight?
Text message sent Friday, May 11th at 8:31 p.m.:
He said he might see it this weekend.
Text message received Friday, May 11th at 8:32 p.m. from Harvey:
He's here. Who's he with?
Text message sent Friday, May 11th at 8:33 p.m.:
I don't know. His roommates?
Text message received Friday, May 11th at 8:34 p.m. from Harvey:
There's a girl. Unless one of them has really long, dark hair.
Text message sent Friday, May 11th at 8:35 p.m.:
Text message received Friday, May 11th at 8:36 p.m. from Harvey:
Text message sent Friday, May 11th at 8:37 p.m.:
Let me know if they start making out.
Text message received Friday, May 11th at 8:38 p.m. from Harvey:
Text message received Friday, May 11th at 9:13 p.m. from G:
I just ran into Jack at the concession stand. Who's the girl?
Text message sent Friday, May 11th at 9:14 p.m.:
I don't know. Harvey is keeping an eye out for me.
Text message received Friday, May 11th at 11:23 p.m. from Harvey:
Her name was Andrea. I don't know anything else about her. You're prettier.
Phone call received Friday, May 11th at 11:25 p.m. from Jack:
"Hey, what's up?"
"How was the movie?"
~Monday, May 14, 2007
I got home from work and stopped when I reached my living room. Discarded on the floor were the previous night's clothes: it was my birthday and Jack met up with my friends and me at a baseball game and then took me for martinis afterwards. A lot of martinis.
What had seemed passionate the night before now seemed foolish and regrettable. Jack had seen the clothes that morning while I was in the shower as he retrieved his to dress. I wonder if the daylight made him think the same.
I didn't do anything wrong--I had sex with the guy I've been seeing for a few months, but I felt irresponsible after viewing the situation under a new light.
E2 said the baseball game was awkward with him there. She regaled how she, not me, invited him over for dinner and how he began to complain. I was grateful that she wanted to invite me over and cook for me, and he whined it was his only afternoon off this week. I tried to use the birthday card, but he informed me that I only get the one day. E2 couldn't believe she invited him over and he took it out on me. Not putting up with his attitude, she then uninvited him.
Katie then spoke up about how she got upset with Jack because every word he said to her was putting her down. She said she tried to remember if he was like that when they worked together, but she didn't know. She thinks it may be based on the power of suggestion: maybe he did it all along and she never noticed until I brought it up.
Helen admitted at first she was worried that if something happened between Jack and me, what would happen to the group. But now she said he's making it easy to not be his friend. Both E2 and Katie agreed that they like me better and that they would choose me.
Which makes me feel really, really horrible.
I just met these people three months ago and they would choose me over Jack: who E2 has known for over four years. They have known him longer. I feel like I'm stealing his friends.
I'm beginning to regret going over to Helen's for comfort on Good Friday. In doing so, I tainted his image; my talking about him has made people not like him. Then again, I'm not a person who exaggerates and makes things up, but maybe Katie wouldn't have noticed that he's never actually said a nice thing to her. Helen says he's digging his own grave. She said she's already stopped inviting him to group activities.
It was an eye-opener for them to hear how crazy-critical and arrogant Jack can behave. It was an eye-opener for me to hear E2 and Helen talk about him like that: how he took turns offending them as well. It validates that perhaps I'm not just being too sensitive.
I thought my birthday was fun. Now I'm not so sure.
~Thursday, May 10, 2007
Why weren't you there all the nights that we cried
You broke my mother's heart
You broke your children for life
It's not okay, but we're all right"
-- Good Charlotte, "Emotionless"
Sitting at a picnic table in front of the baseball field, my father slid two cards across the splintered wood towards me. "Happy birthday, honey bun," he said.
I smiled and picked up the blue envelope. Then I grabbed the yellow envelope and laughed when Lassie began to bark as I flipped the card open. "I have no idea what Lassie is trying to say, but Happy Birthday!" it read. The card was signed by my father.
Confused, I picked up the other card and read it again, not remembering who it was from. I assumed a sibling tossed it in the pile when my father and step-mother came to meet me. But the first card was signed by my step-mother and she signed for my father too—the way it's always been.
That meant my father picked out the Lassie card for me.
My father has never given me a card before.
Christmas, my father disappeared into his room and returned with a small wrapped package. "This is from me," he said. "Your step-mom thought it was stupid but I thought of you when I saw it." The contents was a Pimp My Cubicle kit including a disco ball and animal-print paper.
My father had never picked out a gift for me before.
At 26, I'm experiencing these things for the very first time, and honestly, it's confusing. It's difficult to let go of the anger I've held on to for so long. I became comfortable with the anger I've harbored towards my father. He went and got himself a new family and I tried hard to fit in: I gave up my horseback riding lessons—something I loved—to join the softball team because his new children played sports. I took an interest in acting because of the night he introduced me to them. But it was apparent where his loyalties lied, and it wasn't with me.
I could trust the anger.
To harbor resentment without knowing how, or why, or when it started... after a while it just becomes something that you do, becomes ingrained into the very fiber of your being. My name is Sarah, I love dogs, I write for a living, and I'm angry at my father for leaving me. It's a part of my identity.
And now the anger is dissipating and I'm uncertain with what to do. I should trust my father. But it's frightening: letting go. I don't think my relationship with him will backtrack, but I feel that I'm losing a part of my identity by just not being angry anymore. I feel like I'm walking on a broken foundation and I wonder what else about me will stop being.
Lately late at night I'll walk into the kitchen where my birthday cards are displayed adjacent to a vase of decaying sunflowers and I'll pick up the Lassie card and open it to hear the dog barking. I feel silly standing there barefoot in the dark clutching a $2.99 card, but it's the closest proof of love I have.
And it's terrifying realizing how much I wanted it.
~Friday, May 04, 2007
Jack moved his queen into the center of my fortress, disabling me from moving any of my pieces because somehow they had all managed to cover each other. The only unaffected pieces were my bishop and a rook that was on the other side of the chess board for a reason I could no longer remember.
My birthday party was the night before, and it was a huge success. Which means when Jack called that morning, I could barely form sentences after not knowing I was in my own bed. He gave me 45 minutes' notice that he was on his way to pick me up for lunch and I was doing my best to find a glass of water and an aspirin. Lunch ended up being a sandwich from the grocery store because I couldn't fathom sitting down in public and ordering a heavy meal.
So it was no surprise I was losing at chess.
He hadn't managed to capture any of my pieces save the occasional Desperado pawn, but he had just managed to lock them down, making them useless to me. I tipped my bishop and rolled its edge inside the square while I looked for a place to put it. "I hate you," I said.
"I know," Jack bent his head down and looked into his lap. "Believe me, I know," he said a little softer.
I sat the bishop back up and looked at Jack. The games I had been playing with Jack had succeeded in that he knew I wasn't going to let him dictate the strategy, but at what cost? Now he sat on the other side of the board thinking that I dislike him. Why is he sprawled out on my living room floor if he thinks I don't like him? Why did he come at all?
Jack is so quick to say that he's not good at relationships, but maybe I'm not either. When he got upset with me for my Friday night out, I realized that I never considered his feelings when I organized the night. I told him it was the same people that were out on Tuesday, driving the point home that he didn't come out for that night either. It's been so long since I've done the relationship thing that I forgot my actions affect someone else.
And now I've hurt him not once, but twice.
Play nice, Sarah, I sometimes have to remind myself.
And then I took his rook with my bishop.
~Wednesday, May 02, 2007
The following Friday went by much like most other Friday nights: drinking beer, eating nachos, and singing karaoke while flirting shamelessly with the emcee. Only this time, the circle of friends I managed to create in the past few months since my falling out with E came into the city and partied with me. 10 people drove into the city just to hang out with me. I felt so special that so many people would do something like that just because it makes me happy.
On the way home I called Jack, like I do most Friday nights. He was watching a movie with his roommates, but he said he could spare five minutes to sit with me while make my way home.
He asked what I did that night.
"The same thing I do every Friday."
"I don't know what that is."
"Yes, you do!"
"I don't know your schedule."
"Yes, you do. Every Friday is karaoke!"
He played dumb, but he had to know exactly what was going on. He knows that karaoke is my thing. He's called me in the middle of it and heard me go on and on about how happy it makes me. I ignored this and went on to tell him about my night and how special I felt when he began to get upset.
He wanted to know why he wasn't invited. Why everyone in our group was invited except for him. I responded that I assumed he would know where I was and if he was interested in going, he would have told me. He actually had until 3:30 that afternoon to get my plans for the weekend and he didn't. Over the IM system I typed, "I'm busy for most of the weekend, but do you want to try for something Sunday afternoon?" He agreed and my plans were set.
Jack accused me of deliberately withholding my weekend plans from him to hurt him, but it wasn't about him at all. His name didn't even come up once. All we did was talk about my birthday party on Saturday--the one he already said he wasn't going to. Then Jack accused me of pushing him back until Sunday.
I began to laugh; I didn't think Jack was serious. He's the one who opted out of my birthday party, so it was really his decision to not see me Saturday night. And he knows what I do on Fridays; everyone does. Even my coworkers know. My laughing at Jack and not acknowledging his complaints angered him even more.
"Can I really not just tell you about my night?" I asked.
"No," he huffed. "Go ahead."
I began again with how good I felt about everyone coming out and he again got upset. "I thought you would want to hear about how special I felt!"
"Imagine how not-special I feel knowing that EVERYONE was out and not one person invited me! You know how I am about invites!"
"But you know what I do on Fridays. It was so hard to get you to come out the one time."
"You know the reasons for that. And you keep throwing it in my face that everyone was out."
"No! I thought you would want to be happy for me! I didn't call you to fight with you or to hurt you!"
Finally I conceded and asked why he was upset, but he didn't want to tell me after I cut him off. I asked him one more time and again he was short. Pride keeps me from begging, so I became short too while I tried to hold my temper and I told him I would talk to him tomorrow and hung up.
It was around 2 a.m., but I called Helen anyway, who was equally as shocked that Jack was once again mad at me. I even heard Harvey's husband in the background defend me. Helen agreed he was being a complete girl over the whole thing. That he should know better about where I was. That he likes to twist things and make himself the victim. She was proud of me for refusing to acknowledge his anger and for sticking up for myself the way I did. Alcohol and the previous Friday helped, I'm sure. I was over crying for Jack.
Helen was on the phone with me while both Harvey and her husband shouted consenting opinions in the background when my phone beeped. To my disbelief, Jack was calling back. I waved Helen of the line and then clicked over cheerfully. It took him aback: the tone of my voice. Jack knew he hadn't ruined my mood.
It was Jack's tone that had totally changed. He said he wasn't watching the movie anymore and that he had been thinking. He said he was real jerk to me and he doesn't know why he gives me such a hard time. He's criticized me and made me cry. He still catches himself criticizing me. He said he knew that I didn't call him that night to fight with him or throw anything in his face. Jack said he knew this because I had no idea why he was upset, because my initial response was laughter. He was the one to completely concede and it meant so much to me for him to acknowledge any of these things, much less all of them at once.
And after the really great speech that I wish I had written down word for word, Jack then segued into how he still felt validated for being upset. he said he's big on the invitation--and I know that--and he was really hurt that he didn't get one from me nor the other 10 people that came. While I said I couldn't speak for anyone else, and he has no right to be mad at me for anyone else's action, the reason I didn't invite him was because I was trying to give him his space. I assumed he knew where I was going and he never said anything. I told him I didn't feel comfortable asking him because I didn't want to pressure him.
Jack didn't know why I felt he needed space and I was honest. I told him I heard him back-pedaling on the phone that Thursday. I told him I heard, "I don't want to go to your birthday party, I don't want to see you, and I don't want to talk to you either." Jack admitted he felt claustrophobic that week and that he said things a lot harsher than he should have. I blinked as I got another apology out of him. Then he re-explained things a lot easier to swallow. He said the same thing Helen speculated: there will be the occasional weekend, like Easter, when we'll both be too busy and it should be okay to not see each other. When he said it gently like that, I wholeheartedly agreed.
Jack said he couldn't figure me out and the things I do. And that was exactly my goal. I never set out to hurt him, but I was playing the game, letting him know under no uncertain terms that I will not wait around.
He said in the future, I should always invite him him and let him decide whether he wants to go or not. Again I stood up for myself and said that it doesn't work that way; it's not fair to always have me doing the inviting and he agreed. Jack said he knows he's a difficult person to get along with and he feels like he should apologize for it. He was tender with me for the first time in weeks and I think it's all because I stood up for myself. That's what Jack needs--to be put in his place. To not get away with anything. He changed his tone when someone isn't buying his bullshit.