Winners and Losers

I may be old-fashioned in this thinking, but I've always subscribed to the belief that men are stronger than women. I mean, there's a reason why there's not a women's baseball or football team. The lines may be blurred regarding which gender wins mentally and emotionally, but physically speaking, I've always been able to say, "Fine. You win."

Well that and I've never done a pull-up in my life, so personally it's a pretty easy concession for me.

The glaring exception to this, however, is pain. Women are much more stoic when it comes to pain.

My father once had his toenail removed. After he was done crying, he took a week's worth of codeine and we found him passed out on the bathroom floor. After an unfortunate accident lifeguarding, and I too was missing a toenail. I simply put a Band-Aid on it so I wouldn't have to look at it while it grew back.

You want to talk pain? We get cramps that feel like someone is tattooing our uteruses from the inside. Every month. That shit hurts, yet we are expected to get fully dressed and go into work and have clever thoughts all day long whereas we really want to lie in the fetal position and suck our thumbs while guessing what symbol is getting inked on our insides this month. I would like to see a man deal with that.

But not Adam.

In my morning e-mails from Adam, he briefs me on his gym class and what new injury he sustained that morning. The first week I felt sympathetic for him. Starting a new workout routine is very painful. Moreover it's not a pain others can see: there's no cut, no blood.

By the second week, I thought, Wow, this guy kinda complains a lot.

By the third week I thought, I wonder if complaining is just his thing?

Yesterday I get my morning report from Adam. Oh, looks like he reinjured his hamstring. He'll just do what he's done in the past-- moan about it all day long and be fine the next morning.

By lunch I received an update-- he tried to "be a good boy" and iced his leg.

I laughed.

By my nightly e-mail, it seemed poor Adam's leg had worsened:

This was a bit much, even for a girl whose father ODs on codeine for a toe nail.

"You have a wound on top of a wound on top of a wound?" I wrote. "Give it a couple of days before you get all hypochondriac on yourself and start diagnosing yourself off the internet."

For the record, I would have said that to any of my friends had they pulled the same thing.

Adam was not happy with my response:

Any mention of pending plans this weekend were dropped.

Was I too harsh? Maybe. I opened the reply window and typed, "Aw, I feel kinda bad for calling you a hypochondriac." I stared at my words. No, better not use the H-word again seeing as how it didn't go over so well the first time. I deleted and started again. "Aw, I feel kinda bad about the teasing I gave you," I wrote. "Glad it is easily remedied."

"Hehe..." he replied. "It's ok, I'm tough."

I laughed so hard I drooled on myself.

Sarah- Love, Adam- 30

Hi Sarah!

I should have some time to see you this weekend if I end up staying in town. I have [my daughter] overnight Fri and may take a last minute trip somewhere on Sat - Mon/Tues though. I'll let you know.

Adam

---

Hi Adam!

I'm not sure what my plans are this weekend-- I'm going out of town on either Friday or Saturday night. Maybe we can catch up another time. Keep me posted.

Sarah

---

In case you weren't keeping score, that would be a plus one to me. I really am going out of town this weekend, but it felt good to say it, especially to his "if I can't find anything better to do this weekend" invite.

I wonder how this would play out according to Indy's rules?

Not asking for much here

I have some very supportive friends. I should feel like a very lucky girl, right? However, if one more person brings up Adam, I'm seriously going to lose my cool.

• He still e-mails me every day.
• He has not mentioned us going out again.
• Hell if I'm going to be the one to bring it up.
• My guess is that he's pursuing someone else and is keeping me on the back burner.
• Life on the back burner is pretty effing boring.
• I'm okay.
• I'm okay, really.
• Stop asking me if I'm okay.

In other news, MWG has downgraded his adulterous attempts to phone sex.

• That is not happening either.

Now if we can only get someone who isn't married to say these kinds of things to me, that would be great.

The bank card is in the freezer

Last night for dinner I ate this:


Tonight for dinner I plan to eat this:


But don't worry, I'm not so broke that I have to give up these:


That's right, I went on a shopping spree: a six hour free for all. I woke up Saturday morning and decided I needed new bedding. To quote Field of Dreams, "If you build it, they will come." Before you get all sassy on me and declare you saw the episode of Sex and the City where Miranda tries to improve her bed karma by making her bed a nice place to be-- well that's exactly what this is. But you should know me as not being cliche enough to copy a TV show, hence my Field of Dreams reference. If I build a nice bed, the boys will come. (Not a euphemism. Well... partial euphemism...)

So here it is-- my new bed:

You are looking at a new down comforter, new duvet cover, new blanket, new sheets (oh my god, my butt is still bleeding with what they charged me), and a new down mattress pad. Lovely 500 thread count everything. Mmm.

My colors are chocolate and mint, which makes me dream of cookies. Not necessarily a bad thing.

Then on my way out, I walk past this mirror which I believe ties my living room together. Well, that and it was 90% off. So $30 later and my living room looks like this:


And while I am eating my peanut butter and canned soup for the next two weeks, I will be wearing these:

The Adam Shoes

(I really need a new name for them, last thing I need is to attach his name to my precious shoes...)

And if I ever get depressed about eating only canned soup, I can just slip on my other pair of new shoes:

Oh yes ladies, those are Guess by Marciano.

But who really needs to eat when you have shoes like these?

Karma Cleanser

Married Work Guy flat out propositioned me today. I was eating my Healthy Choice frozen lunch at my desk and this little awkward moment popped on my screen:


I don't think being a dirty mistress will help with my dating karma.

I tried the married thing once. I was 23 and he was... I have no idea how old he was. He was older. We worked together and got along extremely well. It started out with us going out to lunch together; work affairs always start with lunch. Our relationship climaxed when we decided to go out after work to celebrate the end of the month. We sat at my favorite bar where I matched him drink for drink. A big man, he had a very high tolerance.

I remember making a quip about how he was married and then feeling embarrassed when he shoved his ringless finger in my face. He said he didn't take off the ring for just anybody. When the bar closed we went back to my place and then into my room. In the darkness we made out until his clothes were gone and I was gone and before coherent thought came, he did.

He immediately rolled out of bed and into my bathroom and began cleaning himself up. I remained under the sheets, trying to keep the bed from spinning underneath me. He complained about a stain on his boxers and how he had to hide it from his wife. He never returned to bed. He never returned the gesture and he never said goodbye.

It was then I learned that affairs with married men are not about you, they're all about him. It's not about how much he seems to like you, it's not about how beautiful he says you are, and it's certainly not about how unhappy in his marriage he claims he is.

Married Work Guy conceded that I do deserve a relationship with someone. He said until then, there was nothing wrong with something casual. When I said I couldn't, he told me that I seemed scarred. He's right-- I am scarred.

But I'm no dirty mistress.

I would just like to announce that I'm completely pissed(!). Lunch margaritas and all of a sudden I feel much better with my beau situation.

How I'm going to get through the next four hours at work, however, is another question.

Spinning. Screen. Tequila.

*Hiccup*

Words

Nonplussed.

I don't think I've ever used that word to describe myself before, but there it is. I am nonplussed.

And a bit cold.

Adam e-mailed me three times on Wednesday and has since remained in consistent contact with me. I have no idea what changed his recent skanky behavior, but I have my guesses.

Impassive.

That's how I feel towards him. I grieved for him on Sunday and once I close someone off to me, it's nearly impossible to let him back in. I have followed his lead with the communication frequency, but his letters mean nothing to me. I don't know what to say back; I have nothing to say back.

Adam: (via e-mail) My life is WAY too busy. Being married in a dull, unloving relationship was much easier in many ways!
Sarah: ...

In his 180 he's been kind and sweet, but after all they're only words.

Like impassive.

Or nonplussed.