Look Twice

I don't know how to describe Abraham. He's the kind of guy that you would miss if you didn't look twice. He's there, in the background. He says he was there all those nights I've been at the bar. By contrast, I am not a background person. Abraham recently said to me, “Take everyone you know here and divide by 10. That’s who I know.” He’s been a member of the league for three years; I’ve been a member for less than one.

The only real reason I noticed him in the first place is because he was the pitcher of a team I was playing against. Had he played any other position, I would not have seen him. I’m the kind of person that likes to have fun with the pitchers and try to psych them out. Lawyered likes to refer to this as "flirting." Abraham played along with my antics.

I stood behind the plate and pointed to my eyes and then to his eyes and back to mine. Then I stuck my tongue out at him. He laughed and pitched me the ball. His team was good. I don’t think I made it on base the entire game.

And then it was his turn to kick. As catcher, I crouched into position next to Abraham. Lawyered pitched the ball. Abraham made it on base easily. When Abraham was on third base, I was ordered to block home plate to prevent him from scoring. I did as I was told. The result was Abraham crashing into me as he scored. I didn’t know it was him at the time. Abraham would remind me of this months later.

That’s what I knew of Abraham the nights we played flip cup together at the bar. He understood my playful nature and was reciprocal. He would tease, such as giving me the fake name. He would laugh as I blew his cup off the table while he was trying to flip it. He’d pour my beer from his own cup as I scrunched up my nose and complained of backwash.

One night, sometime after the kissing but before I went to Mexico, I looked him up on Facebook. Whereas I have all of my information hidden, Abraham did not. I admired his ability to have a public online presence. I doubt I’ll ever be able to have one after my days spent with S.

I clicked through albums and albums of pictures. In those pictures, I didn’t see someone who was perpetually in the background; I saw someone who was the star in his own life, which, really, is what Facebook is all about. I saw the hockey fanatic, the baseball fan, the beer drinker, the amateur runner. I saw someone who loves his family. I saw his playful nature extend to his funny if not awkward profile pictures. It humanized him. It turned Abraham from That Guy From The Bar into That Guy Who Has Interests And Feelings. That Guy Who I Want To Know.

And what may have been born from boredom morphed into a full-fledged crush.

20 Questions: The Crazy/Hot Continuum

I have a raging crush on one of my co-workers and I am fairly sure it is not reciprocated. How do I get over it so I can go back to working! -Anonymous

I'm a girl who takes pride in my, well, pride. I'm really big on not crossing the Crazy/Hot Continuum. If you haven't heard of the Crazy/Hot Continuum, it's basically a theory that you can't act crazier than you are hot. So if you're real smoking, have at it and set his shit on fire; it'll probably be cool with him.

As an average girl, I'm only allowed an average amount of crazy. This includes: surfing his FB page late at night and looking at pictures, not keeping his number in my phone so I won't drunk dial/text "OMFG! My bra just fell off! Oopsies! Luv U 4 EVA!!," analyzing details for a little too long with my friends to see if he loves me/loves me not, and sending his picture to them so they can rate his hotness. I am not hot enough for late-night drive-bys past his house, nor showing up on his doorstep randomly, etc.

So as an average girl, my advice would be to organize a group happy hour with coworkers. Sometime during the night, sit next to him. Talk about things you have in common, which you already know because you were up late last night gently stalking his Facebook profile. Let's just say you both love planting trees. Say to him, "Yeah, I have been wanting to get up early and join that bitchin' tree-planting organization, but I don't want to go alone."

LET HIM TAKE THE LEAD. If he says, "Hey, we should plant trees sometime," congrats! You are in! If he says nothing, changes the subject, or says something to the extent of "I'm sure you can ask a friend to plant trees with you," then game over. He's not into you. The key in this is to NOT suggest you two go tree planting together, even if you think it'll increase your chances of him saying yes. You are merely providing an opening for him to take the lead. (This is a very Southern way of dating, by the way, but it's very effective.)

So let's just say the boy was stupid and said, "I'm sure you can find someone to plant trees with you." Now you have to get over him. That's it. Shut it down. You are a lady of class. This means your behavior towards him can no longer be anything but friends. No more taking the long way to go to the bathroom at work just so you can walk past his desk. No more coordinating your lunch times so maybe he'll ask you to join him while you are both in the elevator. And no more looking him up wistfully on Facebook. Stop torturing yourself. You can e-mail your girlfriends about it, cry in your car as you listen to that song that makes you think of him and watch sappy movies. Eventually your heart will catch up to your head. It sucks. It's painful, but that's the way it goes.

Other people would say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. Not me. It's not the best way; it's the easiest way. There's a difference. You should only run towards people, never away from them. Because then you find yourself silently crying after sex on some random guy's shoulder because he isn't your crush. And that makes you cross the Crazy/Hot Continuum.

Unless you're really hot, then you could probably set fire to his shit as well.

Click on through to the other side

I am so proud of myself. Really. I am.

If I had a chocolate cupcake in front of me right now, I'd stuff a candle in it and sing to myself. That's how proud I am.

Scott told me nine and a half days ago that his ex-wife's sister friended him on MySpace. His ex-wife is now three clicks away from me, and I can find out who she is and what she looks like.

I have known this for nine and half days and I have yet to click on through.*

If I was being really honest though, I would say fear is the overwhelming factor here, not self-restraint. Because Scott never shies away from saying how beautiful she is. "100 pounds, soaking wet," he'd say. "I only got with her because she had a nice ass," he'd say.

"I used to be into looks, but now I'm just into you," he'd say.**



*And to anyone who has access to my MySpace: please don't stalk for me and report back. Actually, stalk all you want, just don't tell me. I'm doing really well right now, taming the jealous beast.

**To be fair, after wailing and gnashing of teeth, he backtracked clarified the statement using such phrases as "but you're so much smarter" and "total package," and finally, "yes, your ass is nicer."

Denial left him all alone

...My heart is pure
I have learned to forget I have suffered these fools
--Paul Brill, "Paris Is On"

I don't know why I still do it. Maybe it's because Jack is my only ex who has one--it's one of the reasons I liked him--and the curiosity to take a peek is too great. Today, I checked Jack's blog.

My exes check my public blog. Jack checked mine about a month after I met Scott and I got all warm and fuzzy as I watched on my stat counter how he saw the final post I wrote about him and then poured over Scott's entries. It was the feeling of victory I never got from that relationship. /END JUSTIFICATION SPIEL

Anyway, you can tell it's a MySpace blog:


Yes, we all mean it! Holy crap, how many people have to call you an uncaring jerk before you think, Hey if a lot of people are saying it, maybe there's some validity to it?



And that was the exact line where my head fell to my desk and my body shook from laughing uncontrollably. I was reading the reasons he's a "uncaring selfish asshole" nodding in agreement and eyes widening, thinking perhaps he'll get it right for the next lucky lady. Then he quickly concludes with "Of course I have to throw this possibility out." Of course. He wouldn't be Jack if he wasn't in deep denial.

He excuses why it's impossible for him to be a jerk (some existential reasoning: "What would be the point of... me?") and then launches into a completely forgettable and far-reaching second possibility. I didn't laugh again until I saw the third possibility:


I'll let you decide which possibility he's choosing to believe. I feel kind of sorry for him. Instead of looking introspectively, he's decided to cut ties with all his friends. I really think he has the potential for greatness if he could only learn to stop putting himself first 100 percent of the time.

Regardless, I think ending things with him was a great decision. Not only did it clear the way for me to meet Scott, but it also distanced me from from this. All of this. I was in such a bad place at the end of that relationship, self-esteem-wise. And with that distance, I've learned to love myself again. Being able to love someone else is just a bonus.

Kicking a Dead Horse (PETA approved)

Jack announced he had a new blog entry up and curiosity killed me so I had to read it:


It's funny what a little time and perspective can do for someone. Previously I would have thought his new "friend", as he alludes to her, somehow used him or treated him badly. Now I laugh at his self-entitled sniveling. Of course he thinks she should appreciate him more, he is, after all, Hot. Shit.

A Hot. Shit. who plagiarizes Dylan Thomas on MySpace.

The week that Jack and I ended things, I read in the paper that the bartender we had on our second date was mugged then shot and killed right outside the bar. Then a few days later, as I was driving past the restaurant we had our last date at, I saw the SWAT team surround the place. I think the incidents serve as the final punctuation for our relationship.

That or I need to seriously question the safety of my side of town.

The friggin end

To try to reconnect, Jack and I set up a date for Sunday. 2:30 on Sunday afternoon I gave Jack a call. Jack didn't answer and Sunday went by uneventfully.

It didn't bother me that he didn't answer the phone nor returned my message. I can put up with a lot shit, but once I hit my threshold, I usually just want out of the relationship instead of trying to repair it. I had exceeded my tolerance level when Jack went to the movies with another girl. No, it wasn't a date, but one day it would be and I wanted to prevent being the girl sitting at home on a Friday night while her friends update her via text message about the date.

Tuesday I sent Jack a text message. "Call me tonight. It's time we talk." We need to talk means either one of two things: we're breaking up or we're pregnant. I assumed Jack knew which one it was.

It was important for me to end things with him civilly. We had about 12 friends in common and frequent the same stomping grounds. We will run into each other and for the sake of our friends, I didn't want to make it more awkward than it already had to be. Besides, it's important for me to man-up and end things with class.

Jack didn't give me that opportunity.

Because Jack never called.

Jack did, however, publish a blog post about me:


That fucking asshole. He knew I wanted out so he avoided calling me and then posted this on the Internet for everyone to read. The night I yelled at Jack I told him how I did not like being made a fool out of, and that's exactly what he did. All of our mutual friends would read this about me. Humiliation washed over me and I began to cry.

Jack was right: he wasn't who I thought he was. I thought we could end this properly. I thought he had enough respect for me to do that.

He didn't. I had spent the past few months building a website for him. He kicked out my access rights, deleted all of my work, and then put up a generic template with "This site is being designed by people who give a damn."

For someone who clearly didn't care about me, he sure went out of his way to hurt me. He destroyed my self-esteem while we were together by telling me things like I wasn't qualified to attend his literary society meetings. One time we were walking up a flight of stairs hand in hand and he yanked my arm down because he thought I was walking too fast. The arm jerk made me lose my balance and I almost tumbled down the stairs. The last month he didn't even see me unless it was to meet over his website--he had begun to use me and he didn't even try to hide it.

And now I get that posted on teh Intarwebs: he could have feelings for me; he just doesn't want to.

He couldn't even let me have enough dignity to end things with him first. He stripped that from me as well.

"Dating isn't about winning or losing," a friend tried to console me.

"You know what? Sometimes it is!" I shot back. I needed my dignity; it's the only thing I have to hold onto. I can't remember the last time I felt so utterly worthless. He wouldn't touch me when we worked on his website, making me feel ugly. He wouldn't invite me to his meetings because he thought I didn't have the right mind frame, making me feel stupid. I needed my dignity.

So I didn't tell anybody about the blog post outside a trusted friend. As much as I wanted to leave the comment, If you had taken the non-drowsy formula of your herpes medication and called me..., I pretended I never read it. And then I waited another week and called him.

"I can't do this anymore," I told him. "I just don't want to."

"You haven't been happy for awhile," he said, unaffected.

"I'm tired of feeling like a piece of crap."

"Why do you feel like a piece of crap?"

"You just make me feel so ugly and so stupid."

He dropped audibly, "That's not it." It was the only redeeming thing he said to me.

"I just feel like I did something wrong when you stand me up and don't return my calls. The person I'm dating shouldn't avoid me."

"I wasn't avoiding you; I just wasn't thinking about you. I'm very focused on myself right now." He paused, "I can't believe you would be so selfish to not let me think about myself."

He has a way of twisting things around that stuns me into stupidity and puts me on the defensive. "I didn't say that. I think it's good spending time on yourself."

"You just expect too much. You're always yelling at me."

"I yelled at you the one time. We haven't even spoken since. I said I wanted two things: for you to respond when you're invited to something and for you to return my phone calls. I don't think that's too much. And the fact you never called me when I said we needed to talk just reinforces things."

"It's too needy to expect a return phone call."

Once again, I was stunned into silence. I thought of everyone else in my life and how they call me back. Did I just have really extraordinary friends? Was this not normal behavior?

"I never treated you badly, you know," he said.

"I disagree with you."

"I know you do."

I thought of the time he play-slapped me in the face when I said something snarky in front of our friends. My mouth had dropped open at his audacity to even lightly strike in me in the face and he dared me, "Go on, get mad at me for no reason."

I wanted to be vindicated. I wanted him to admit, I really did treat you like a piece of shit and I'm sorry. But the longer the conversation circled, the more apparent it became that I would never hear that. I would never hear that because I think he might actually believe everything he says. And that thought terrifies me to my bones.

As he repeatedly put me on the defensive, I knew that I made the right decision by wanting out of the relationship. There was no other possible ending for us.

And he said I could have the friends. He doesn't respect them anyway.

Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear

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!

BALD!


As in that is his head and there isn't so much as fuzz on there!

I am so distraught.

MyStalkingTM

Laugh all you want, you MyHaters, but MyStalking^TM is critical for the single college student up through the 20-something. There is some very important and necessary information that can and should be learned by someone before agreeing to go out with another. MySpace is easy to access and someone's page can be found with an e-mail address or even a name. With time, it can also be found through circle of friends' friends lists.

Is he single? Check the relationship status box, does it say In a Relationship or Single? People are quick to change that when relationships go sour, so it's an accurate indicator.

What is he here for? Is he here for Friends? Dating? Serious Relationship? Although no one actually uses MySpace to meet new people (at least no I know does, we use it just to keep in touch), his answer will indicate what he's looking for and how serious he wants to get. Having Dating listed, but not Serious Relationship, will give you an idea of his mindset.

Does he have his shirt on in his profile picture? Seriously? Do you really want to date that guy? You know, the one who doesn't have his shirt on in his profile picture? Forget MyStalking^TM, that's just a good rule of thumb.

Who is in his Top 8? Is it all girls or is it a mix of males and females? What do the girls look like? If it's eight barely-clothed, slutty looking girls, he's a player. If it's eight normal looking girls, he might just have a lot of female friends, however, most guys will at least have a best bro in the Top 8. It's just not normal to have a unisex Top 8. The same applies to guys who have all-male Top 8s.

What do his comments say? Check out his comments section: who is leaving them and what do they say? 20-something girls are fairly conniving and will leave, "Thanks for last night ;)" all over a guy's MySpace as an attempt to stake claim on him. How often do these comments appear? Do they appear from the same girl, or different girls? You can also check the date for frequency. In the case of an ambiguous flirtation, click on the girl's profile to see what he has written to her. This is often a missed, but very important step.

And, for the MyStalking^TM Pro, try reverse stalking. Put a stat counter that works without javascript on your MySpace page. This is the one I use. Because MySpace doesn't allow javascripts, the stats are going to be limited, but you're still going to get a location and an IP address and anyone with a blog stat counter knows how to use this to figure out who someone is.

It's how I found out despite limited messaging through MySpace, David still visits my page at least 4 times a day. And every visit is a thought.

Still nay say about MyStalking^TM as a reference check for future dates? My friend in New York City found out through a combination of MyStalking^TM and Googling a potential suitor was fired from his school teaching job for molesting children. If that's not a reason to start, I don't know what is.

Confessions

"Oh, and congratulations on your parking pass win!" I laid my head down on the table in shame with my blonde hair covering my face. Adam just laughed harder. It was the end of my second beer and I tend to get a little confessional when I drink.

"Please stop apologizing!" he said. "It's no big deal."

"I feel dirty!" I spoke from underneath my hair, still refusing to look at the man I had Googled.

Adam leaned forward, "You know I get certain security clearances with my job. I could do a full background check on you in minutes. I clearly have the upperhand in this situation, so please don't worry about it."

I lift my head off the table, "Oh."

"Yeah."

"Um, define background check."

"Why?" Adam smiles slyly.

"Do you get to see things like mug shots?"

"No."

"Okay well there's a story I might have to tell you."

I feel dirty

I am now confident enough to say that Adam really does like me and not in a I'm-going-to-destroy-your-soul kind of way. He sent me a short note at 4 PM yesterday afternoon, but when I tried to reply, my boss started acting like a total queen so I was on good behavior for the rest of the work day.

I turned my computer on when I got home from work to respond, but I got distracted with walking The Femme Fatale, then I wanted a bath, and then dinner. By 7:30 I finally turned my monitor on. There was another note from him in my inbox.

I think something can be said about not being readily available.

N flitted into my cubicle this morning. "So? Give me an update!" she whispered. I told her about the 2 e-mails.

"What's his last name?"

I told her.

"Come here."

I ran after her into her cubicle, losing a shoe in the process. I watched with one bare foot as she opened a personal web page she made with links to the public court records of the surrounding counties. We spent the next hour searching for poor Adam in the civil and criminal public records. He came up clean, but she couldn't access the county that all three of us live in.

We then Googled him.

He is no stranger to the internet. Google produced pages and pages of information on him from the past 16 years. We know his hobbies that he was into during college. We found pictures and message boards that he posts on. We know that he likes nice cars and we know that he owns a mandolin.

I feel dirty.

I learned a lot about him this morning. I am dealing with a nerd. Good lord, all those message boards! I don't mind because he's socially adept and I have my own nerd-like tendencies (see: blog). But now I know all this information that he never told me. This information would have been important if it was a newspaper article about him getting arrested for kiddie porn per se, but it wasn't. And now I know all sorts of stuff that he hasn't told me.

I then went back to my desk and Googled myself to see how I would look from his perspective. The only thing that came up was the newspaper I wrote for in college. And he already knows about that.

Is it wrong to Google someone? Have you ever given in to the urge?

Return of THE EX

I didn't put 2 and 2 together. I can pick up on the most obscure themes and symbols in books and movies, thanks to my ever-so-useful English degree, but the most obvious things evade me.

The nightmare I had Wednesday, I had it for a reason.

I have stat counters on my blogs, it's no secret, you can see them. About once a year my ex (not Mark but THE EX like I mentioned yesterday) will Google my name and it will take him to my blog. Once in my blog, he'll search for the word "boyfriend" to see my status. He'll never contact me, like shoot me an e-mail, but he'll read my blog and disappear just as quickly as he came. He did this last week.

It shakes me up every time he pulls this stunt. It physically jars me and puts me into a bad mood. Why would he look me up? It's not like he's horny and looking for a booty call, I live 800 miles away and we haven't spoken in 5 years.

Jenni once said in a comment that I will break plenty hearts myself. Here's the thing: I never have. I've had 3 true relationships and in all of them, I was the one dumped. I was the one with the broken heart; I was the one left behind. I still think of them collectively every now and then when I'm stuck in traffic and it's that time of the month. I sit behind the wheel, ashamed that I'm even thinking about them, positive that they never look back and think about me. They've all said I'm the best girlfriend they ever had, but at the same time I'm completely forgettable.

I never Google their names though. Does this make me more over my ex than he is over me? I might think of him when my hormones are raging, but I never actively search for him.

The nightmare I have is recurring. The circumstances are always different but the theme is the same: I'm marrying my ex simply because it's time for me to get married. I know it's a mistake before the ceremony even transpires, but I go through with it anyways. My parents are happy. I know I don't love him, I can't even talk to him because I don't know who he is anymore, but I go through with it.

I wonder if he looks me up because he misses me and wonders if he made a mistake. I don't feel that way about him, but just once I would like to be the one not left behind.