May – July 2007
I chronicled my cross-country trip on another blog which has since been deleted. It was the summer of getting my head on straight and deciding to be a grown up. I’m not going to lie to you. I had a pretty bad emotional breakdown. I’m not going to lie to you again. It was long overdue. I never grieved the end of my relationship with K, and because of that, I believe I was never able to really have another successful run at a relationship.
FreckledK had to come to Phoenix and pull me out of the depths of hell. We spent several days roasting by the Hilton’s pool, eating Mexican and partying in Mesa country bars and Scottsdale biker bars where we had the grand honor of meeting a Porn Producer. After spending several weeks with her and my other good friends out in Phoenix, one of them remarked that he hadn’t seen me eat or mention being hungry for three weeks. He was right. It was bad.
Being in the wrong relationship was painful. But deciding to end somehow had a backlash that was more painful. Why?
Because ending a mediocre relationship in your mid-thirties takes a lot of work when the ball is in your court. You wonder if this is your last chance. You wonder if you’ve been too picky. You wonder if this is your last chance. You wonder if you were too hard on him. You wonder if this is your last chance. You wonder if you’ve become inflexible. You wonder if this is your last chance. You wonder if you aren’t meant to be with anyone ever in life. You wonder, god damned it, if this, for the love of all holy hell, is your last fucking chance.
Ultimately, 95% of people probably settle. They probably tell themselves: I’m getting older, and I don’t know who or what else is going to come along, so I better pack it down with this person and make the best of it. And ultimately many of those people live to regret it, and either get divorced or tough it out in misery and loneliness. But, if you’re me, you cannot settle. Because only having 90% 80% 70% of the package just isn’t good enough.
The decisions I made on the trip broke down into the following:
1) No More Partying
2) No More Wrong Men
3) Prioritize and start making decisions based on those priorities. i.e. If it doesn’t get me closer to my goal, then I’m not doing it.
On the road trip, I had another very vivid sex dream about my now ex boss. I woke up with that feeling like we had actually had sex. I was at your house. Sorry. Hope your sheets survived. I texted him – I think it was my way to throw a bone out there. He didn’t respond right away, then sort of blew it off when he did respond by asking me how I was. Damn it ex boss, I want to discuss my dream! We went back and forth for a few volleys but it died out. Sad. We used to have a good friendship. I missed that. It was awkward now. And it was also over.
I came back to DC in mid-June. I was hell bent and determined to move to NYC once and for all and blow the DC falafal stand to hell. I interviewed but the jobs were starting to dwindle in my field.
In July, I got wind through a friend that my ex-company was closing the Baltimore division. One of my friends called and said that my ex-current-ex-Boss was trying to save her job. He was going to tell them to keep her on for a few more months because he knew she was a single mom and he (we) both knew her from the prior company. She told people at work and they said: “Please! The Boss was fucking Velvet for years and he couldn’t save her job, what makes you think he can save yours?”
Huh?
I said to her: That isn’t true.
She said: Its none of my business.
I said: Believe me. BELIEVE ME. I have a tell-all blog. You read it every day. If I was doing something as scandalous as nailing my boss I would have SURELY mentioned it prior to now.
She didn’t believe me. She really didn’t believe me.
Thinking he probably wouldn’t answer, I texted him anyway. It had been several weeks since we spoke. It felt awkward – like all these people thought this – did he know this? Did he discourage these rumors? I started to question him, and wonder if he was just one of those guys egging the rumors on by not denying them.
I texted around late afternoon that day: “Did you hear the hot rumor that you and I have been fucking for years? I seem to be unable to recall this mindblowing sex we had.”
He took his time, about six hours to be exact, before he responded.
uh oh…I know this story…this is where it starts to get good. Where’s my popcorn?
I’m sure my sheets have seen worse 🙂 You should have picked up one of the hotties from the upstairs bar at Austin Avenue and made his dreams come true. Oh, wait, there are no hotties at Austin Avenue.
“Because ending a mediocre relationship in your mid-thirties takes a lot of work when the ball is in your court.”
Wow. This post hit really close to home for me…far too close for comfort.
ACK, what a way to have us hanging on. Even though I know there is a happy ending, I’m still anxious to read tomorrow. I found this blog a few months a go and read most of the old entries. It is really nice to read your story all put together. As a single gal in her early 30s (in bmore actually – hmmm maybe getting outta here should be my first step) your story give me hope.
oh the stories that auntie velvet will have to tell kitcat when she gets older. “and then i had a wet dream all over your mommy’s guest bed…”
more, more!
Ninja – I’m surprised you are ever very far from the popcorn!
Patsy – I fell for it. AGAIN. I was like, “Um, where’s the upstairs at Austin Avenue?” Damn!!!
Fearless – I’m sorry. But, sadly, it’s true. It’s the crap I would tell a little sister, if I had one. Much like your namesake, you can’t let fear dictate your decisions in life. Especially the big ones.
Kinda New Reader – Thank you for commenting! And thank you for reading the old stuff. It’s easy for me to look back on it now and pinpoint the mistakes. Hindsight is always 20/20, sadly. I do believe there are lids for every pot, so to speak, so if you’re not finding what you need in Baltimore, then maybe a change in scenery is all you need. Though I don’t recommend DC. Probably the worst place I’ve had to be single. The girl/guy ratio is horrible for the women. Some urban legends pin it at 6 girls for every guy. Not good.
Michelle – Poor Kitcat! I hope she doesn’t judge me! That’s her nursery now! Oh, I’m an awful auntie.
Cyndy – Ha ha. Tomorrow morning!
Just wondering what would have happened to your heart and head if he hadn’t answered you, but left you in silence.
Ahhhhh….Rich the Pornographer: the only man who could tear you away from a Megatouch.
I’m loving this, by the way. Keep it going.