Pimp my ride! ...ahem.

No, really. I think I have lived in this city too long. Something happened on Saturday that I didn't think much of, but the people I mentioned it to thought it a big deal. So I will pass the tale on to you, my dear readers. Judge for yourselves if I have become dangerously immune to the incredible.

The grocery store in my neighborhood is about a mile away. Because most people have cars. (Because I live in New Jersey, on a street overlooking the Hudson and midtown Manhattan.) Originally, I tried walking home with my groceries in my arms. Ouch. Imagine carrying 10 grocery bags for a mile. A few times I dragged my granny shopping cart to the store but hauling it there and back was a real pain. And food falls out of the sides, and I have to go down and up a hill.

One late night I helped myself to a store cart and pushed my groceries home. (No, I didn't steal it! You can't get them past the parking lot because the wheels lockup, I had already tried that.) I found it a block away from the store like manna from heaven, just an empty grocery store cart abandoned on the sidewalk. Because it was late at night I didn't feel embarrassed to be seen with a stolen shopping cart. In fact, I think I ran gleefully up the hill with it. But I did feel bad leaving it parked in front of my building, that was a ghetto thing to do. I swore to take it back first thing in the morning. By the time I got out of bed though, it was long gone. So then what could I do? I considered my responsibility for the stolen cart discharged. (Ok, I still felt bad about it for awhile.)

A few months ago I decided that it was worth $6 to get a cab ride home from the store. So now I only feel mildly guilty for spending money I can't afford on such a luxury. To obtain such a cab there are several methods. My friend always calls the cab companies to come get her. But that involves a wait of anywhere between 5-20 minutes. One night they stood me up even after I called 3 times. Wankers. I prefer to catch a ride with the freelance cabbies who hang around at the store looking for customers. I know this isn't the safest plan but they are already there waiting for you.

There is one older gentleman I have now used three times. I liked him because he speaks English, which makes giving directions easier. And he's one of those flirty old guys that you know is really a dirty womanizer. Well, yesterday I saw my guy and waved him down, asked him if he could drive me home. We got in his car and he seemed different, his speech was slurred more. I hoped he hadn't been drinking. He started talking about this rich guy he worked for who made him crazy. My guy has to drive him all over during the week. And now the man wants him to find him women. Blah blah blah. I couldn't really understand what else he was saying so I tuned him out.

Then he looked in the rearview mirror and asked me if I was married. I said 'no' but prepared myself with the 'I have a boyfriend' lie that I knew would be necessary shortly. He heard me and whipped his head around. He said, 'no? Look at you. You're gorgeous! You should go out with him.' I said, 'No, thank you. I have a boyfriend.' Then he went on and on about how rich this guy was, he paid 2 million for that building, he owns all the restaurants on some such street in the Village, he likes to throw his money around, just gives it away, he's lonely, he looks Elvis, his wife and baby died, and on and on...until we got to my street.

"I'm a retired cop." He says. So he would go with us and would protect me. "I wouldn't have to do anything with the man, not even kiss him, but I'd get a nice dinner. Don't I trust him? He would keep me safe." No. No. No. As I got out of his car he got really desperate to pimp me out to his sugar daddy. He said, "You're scared aren't you? Are you chicken? You're a chicken." I said 'yes' and collected my bags from the trunk of his car. Then he switched tactics to flattery, "How old are you? 20? 21?" Nice try. I'm 30 buddy. He wouldn't let it go until I slammed the door in his face.

I found the whole thing annoying and decided never to use that driver again.

My friend is afraid to use the freelance guys, she says if they kill you there won't be any record of it, at least with the places you call there is a record. I think she is overly optimistic about the quality of cabbie dispatch. And I trust myself to get out of the backseat of a car. She has more sense than I do generally, and probably in this case as well. I may rethink this though and start calling a cab from the checkout line.

My ride tried to pimp me! For real.


Just like everybody else does

When you hear the same criticism from two people in one week, it may be a good idea to pay attention. In my depressive cocoon of withdrawal and isolation, I like to think that I am growing, that this time is for healing and self-improvement. So, two different men told me they thought I was unfair to Mormon men. Touche'. Naturally, I responded defensively, sort of 'they deserve it' or 'I have a right to be bitter' reaction. Right or not, I don't want to be bitter.

That's what this comes down to, my choice. Can I set aside my pride in order to get what I ultimately want? Pride will be my damnation before anything else. Even as a child I knew that, when I first heard about the '7 deadly sins', I gulped when someone told me the definition of pride. As far as defense mechanisms go, pride is a beauty. What a wonderful shield to throw up in the face of hurt and rejection. I felt unloved at home, rejected by my family so I turned a proud cheek to them. They weren't rejecting me because I didn't love them either. They wouldn't ignore me anymore because I'd stop talking to them. Stop I did. And no, they didn't notice. Which deepened my adolescent anger and pain.

But all that is behind me now, right? Sigh. A defense learned so early in life really digs itself into one's personality. So, when I again faced repeated rejection, this time by the male Mormon population, my shield automatically went up. They don't want me? Fine, I don't want them either! How mature. And not good for me.

Several factors lead to this result. I started dating non-members from the beginning. In our youth group  we had about 12 teenagers. Most of us had grown up together which kills romantic mystique. One boy, who became very popular with the ladies, I remembered playing with him when we were four. Picking noses together as toddlers does not lead to sexual desire. Those of us in the group who dated either went out of the ward or out of the religion. My first boyfriend at age 16 was a nice non-practicing catholic drummer in a speed metal band. (it was 1992!).

Then when I went to college there was a sizeable singles ward full of Utah transplants. I felt like a freak from another planet. I did not understand the culture of that ward at all. I found the cliqueyness disgusting and couldn't get a boy to look at me twice. So I turned my back on that nonsense and stayed in my family ward. Those of us who spurned the singles ward became a pretty tight knit group for a few years. We had dances in town for the whole stake twice a month. That's where I met the recent convert that I dated when I was 21. That didn't work out at all. He just wanted a wife and rejected me for not being good enough. Whatever, he was the redneck who didn't go to college and lived with his mother. (He made her move to the guesthouse because she was living in sin.)

For the 8 years that I lived in the south I stayed on the fringes of the singles LDS life. There were two men I dated but we never became couples. One guy I was never attracted to but really wanted to be. The other had strung me along in a love quadrangle for a few months then dumped me at a Valentine's Day Dance. He told me he was getting back together with his ex, left me to sit by the wall and watch as he danced away with her.

The quadrangle drama was the result of my attempts to get into the singles social scene. I started attending the ward and going to activities, unaware that I was dating the guy that two of the more important females were in love with. So I didn't have a chance with the women, no one liked me. Except my friend April, we were paired as visiting teaching companions and found a real kinship that has lasted to this day. A lot of the other girls didn't like her either. I think they were too jealous because she looks like a prettier version of Britney Spears and was working on an MBA. (She's still single too.) My own behavior towards the other quad-women when I did realize we were in competition frightened and repulsed me more than anything else. And I haven't attended a singles ward since.

Blah, blah, blah. A few more years and boyfriends later, here I am. In no shape whatsoever to date anyone. I am not well. Trying to get into a relationship now could only end in disaster. The only man who would want me in this state would have to be sick himself. Bad, bad, bad. I'm wise enough to see that now. So I'm taking a breather from the drama. I haven't had a real date in almost a year. (The couple almost dates don't count.) I am on sabbatical from romance and the hunt. This isn't just lip service, the thought of going on a date makes me ill.

So now that I've been accused of being unfair to Mormon men, what am I going to do about it? Initially I didn't care. But I have since had an epiphany. This is my choice. The single LDS men my age belong to a social culture and operate by those rules. Up until now I have rejected that culture because it rejected me. Good for me, I'll die a spinster that way. I see now that if I want a nice Mormon boy then I will have to bend. I must set aside my pride and play their game by their rules. I don't like the game and I don't understand it but that's a pill I have to swallow. Unless I want to continue playing worse games with the non-lds dudes. They'll pretend they're ok with my celibacy to gain my trust so they can get into my pants. That's a no-brainer.

If I want a 'good' one, I have to stop waiting for the LDS man who plays by my rules to come and get me. That will never happen. Now I have resolved that if and when the day comes when I feel up to dating again, I will dip my toes into the mo'men pool and leave it there. I will pursue them with kid gloves on, using that magical mix of non-aggressive aggression. How to do that, I don't know. But that's for another day. Today, I'll enjoy my newfound maturity.


Fun with Genealogy

Grandma was the genealogist of our family. I haven't done any research myself though I expect to take it up shortly. She recently moved into a home because she has increasing dementia. It's very sad. But I visited her one summer in Utah as an adolescent. She told me and some cousins very proudly about one of our ancestors, a famous general and friend of Brigham Young, James Ferguson.

Tonight, for no reason in particular, I felt like looking him up and finding out exactly how I was related. I used this site to look up the records : Family Search it's the LDS church's website so it's free to use unlike many others. All you need to find someone is their name and some piece of information, such as year of death or birth or state.

So it turns out, Ferguson is my Great-Great-Great Grandfather and he was freaking cool. Unfortunately, he died at age 35 from his 'devotion to the inebriating cup.' Looks like he only had 4 wives. Though we know from his letters he was madly in love with the woman he left behind in Ireland. Perhaps his second wife? I can't remember. Here's an excerpt from an article about him:

Sheriff James Ferguson's exploits have always been short on documentation but long on notoriety, from hunting for mountain man Jim Bridger to almost igniting a war between frontier Utah and the federal government. Yet the brilliant career of this colorful soldier, actor, missionary, newspaperman and attorney was cut short before he reached middle age.
. . .
While sheriff, Ferguson read the law, later serving as territorial attorney general. He also became one of Great Salt Lake City's foremost actors, appearing in 1853 as Hamlet, and remained Utah's favorite leading man almost until his death.

On his mission to Britain in 1854 for the Mormon Church, Ferguson served as pastor of Ireland and on his return helped organize the handcart emigration of 1856. On reaching home, he was named adjutant general of the Nauvoo Legion. Perhaps craving action, he led a mob that dumped the law library of federal judge George P. Stiles into an outhouse and burned it, helping to ignite the Utah War that brought one-quarter of the U.S. Army to enforce federal authority in the "State of Deseret."

The rest of the article can be read here: Utah History

Go Gramps. I imagine he and I would get along very well.


Guest Post: The Last Word

*Casanova, the winner of our pathetic personal ad contest has submitted this post for your reading pleasure. Enjoy!

The break-up is an interesting phenomenon. Though often painful, it can also be relieving, anticlimactic or even funny. Lovers’ final words can speak volumes about their relationship, and often about the nature of romantic relationships in general. In this spirit, I offer you five personal break-ups, each with a different flavor:

1. The “I Really Didn’t Mean It” Break-Up

My best friend and I were going steady with twin sisters. In our defense, we were nine. The following took place in their front yard with family watching…

Me: So…umm…we don’t want to go with you anymore.
Best Friend: Yeah, we’re kicking you to the curb like yesterday’s garbage.
Me: And we’re not giving you rides on our skateboards anymore, either.
BF: Unless you really have somewhere to go.
Me: Yeah!

The girls didn’t say a word. We regretted the decision 15 minutes later. They never took us back.

2. The Mutually Beneficial Break-Up

Done over a casual lunch…

Girlfriend: I think we should break-up.
Me: Me too.
GF: I’m so glad you said that. I think we’ve both known it’s been coming.
Me: Yeah, are we still going swing dancing Friday, or should I find a date?
GF: Either way. Maybe we can go together and help each other find dates there.

We didn’t find dates for each other and we never got back together. But it was the least painful break-up ever.

3. The Divine Intervention Break-Up

While cuddling on a grassy knoll overlooking the city…

GF: I’m going to Texas next week to the homecoming of I guy I met on my (LDS) mission.
Me: Texas?
GF: I’m not sure why, I just feel like God wants me to go.
Me: Texas?
GF: I guess what I’m saying is that I think we should slow things down until I find out what God is trying to tell me.
Me: Texas?

She and the Texan were married six months later.

4. The Chemically Induced Break-Up

Over the phone…

GF: Sorry I haven’t called you in a month. I’m in drug rehab.
Me: Rehab? You don’t do drugs.
GF: I know. I don’t…didn’t. I tried heroin and it ruined my life. I just checked in.
Me: I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?
GF: I think we should break things off. At least until I can get my head back on straight.
Me: Yeah, umm…sure…okay (still trying to figure out what just happened).

Happily, she stayed clean after getting out of rehab. We never got back together.

5. The “I’m An Emotional Black Hole And You’re A Loose Cannon” Break-Up
(Part I)

GF: You’re emotionally unavailable.
Me: Yeah…
GF: Is that all you can say?
Me: No…
GF: A@#hole!

With that, she threw an entire stack of cds at my face. Each left me a small, bruised reminder of the night’s events. We got back together a year later. We’re sadistic like that.

I could add the “It’s Not Me, It’s You” Break-Up or the 14 Hour Drive Home In Silence Break up, but I’d rather hear about you. What are some of your best break-up stories?


Celibate Cinema: 'Slither' Superb

Firstly, one must have an appreciation for the genre. If you do not enjoy movies dripping with fake blood and engorged entrails, then you should probably miss this one. But, even the occasional B-movie viewer, and definitely the aficionado, should see this film. "Slither" is a superb example of B-movies at their finest. It manages to please by sticking to the formula we know and love: monster infects dude, who transforms into carnivorous worm beast(zombie) and impregnates local girl as they attempt to take over the earth(turning everyone to zombies). However, it is not formulaic. The plot surprised me throughout. I didn't know who was going to win until the last 10 minutes, which is a good thing.

Another surprise is that the creators obviously wanted to have characters that broke the usual stereotypes. The teenage girl was not a slut but wasn't totally virginal either. The same goes for the main heroine, she oozes sex and every man in town lusts after her but she has madonnalike virtues as well. Her husband, the infectee, is in fact an obnoxious jerk who is faithful to his wife! Those twists alone break several rules for zombie movies. The other surprise is that these monsters share a single consciousness, they are all in love with the heroine. How creepy is that? As far as I know that has never been done before. Any zombie movie innovation is always cause for celebration!

I really loved the opening scene because we see teenage boys gazing at their sexy teacher. I have seen that look before and it made me laugh. When the opening makes you laugh it portends more to come. Which indeed did. It was funny without trying too hard, the pacing was perfect, the dialogue was good and authentic (unusual for B movies) and the gore wasn't overwhelming. There was just enough goo to make you squirm in your seat without getting boring.

Lastly, this picture was a love letter to classic horror and b-movies. The movie is replete with references: Toxic Avenger is playing on the TV, the name of the local honky tonk, and more. Play how many references can you find with your buddy. My only complaint is with the deer fighting scene. Our hero gets in a fight with a monster deer but you don't actually see the deer aside from some quick shots of the head. It looks like someone took a deer trophy, wiped it with fake blood and shook it over the guy being attacked. I suspect this was supposed to be a reference to another film, but it comes across like they ran out of money and was frustrating. I want to see the freaky deer.

Tip: Stay for the end of the credits. A bonus scene sets up the sequel.

Yes, I'm a megadork. My sister has already told me. Before you throw stones at me, ask yourself how you got to the end of this post, you're the one who is still reading.


Happy Easter and Passover

For those of you who may have forgotten what the single life is like...

Easter was nice. PBS had several good arts documentaries on in the afternoon. I enjoyed eating the other half of the cheese babka I bought on Saturday. (No, they didn't have chocolate. I could only dream what a chocolate babka tastes like.) But the cheese was very nice. My little ghetto kitty and I had some bonding time in which I threw colored balls with bells in them at her and she jumped and ran with joy. I also took her for a run up the stairs in my building and gave her an extended sniff of the front entryway. The weather was lovely.

I didn't talk to anyone because my mother was having dinner with my brother's in-laws all day. She usually calls me every Sunday but couldn't. I didn't feel like calling anyone either. But I did finish reading my latest fantasy book, "Sinner" by Sara Douglass. It was book 4 in a series and the whole thing mostly set the scene for the invasion of the plague demons from outer space. So it was unsatisfying because the book ends when they enter the star gate and commence to terrorize the world. But that's ok, it was entertaining enough.

For dinner I made myself a spinach and egg casserole (like a quiche without the crust.) I ate it as I watched the show about the giraffes. Good times. I ended the day with a nice little IM chat with a stranger. My toenails needed a touch-up so I planned to paint them in the evening but I didn't get around to it. Because I was so very busy.

I missed the community I had in Atlanta. A nice group of families from church would have invited me to spend a holiday such as this one with them. I don't have that here at all. Makes things a little more lonely.

By the way, single people should check out the newly restored blogward cultural hall A new member, Chris has put up two new discussion questions and I posted one last week too. We'd appreciate y'all's input.


I missed the train

In more ways than one. First, traffic in Lincoln tunnel last week for some inexplicable reason was horrendously worse than usual. I think it was the weather. For some reason, when it is warm, more people like to go to Manhattan. I take a bus into the city to go to work. I give myself 40 minutes usually to get to Penn Station. Most days it only takes 20 minutes. Last Wednesday it took 45 minutes. I have to take a 9:24 LIRR train to get to my class by 11:20. If I miss that one, I will take the 9:31 to Babylon which isn't far enough. From there I have take a taxi that costs $50. I am loathe to pay that much since I am paid so little...but pay it I do.

Except last time I did not have $50 to take from the ATM so that wasn't an option. I decided to take the 10:24 train and called my colleague to have her give my class a writing assignment, that way I wouldn't have to cancel. We were in chapter 10 of the book so without even looking at it, I had them do the essay assignment in that chapter. It was due by the end of class, at which time I knew I'd be there. So, during lunch I read the essays. They were typically not good. The topic was, "Should public schools be allowed to post the 10 Commandments." They were to research the arguments then decide which they agreed with and write an argument.

One student got very creative in her example and in fact had one of the better essays. However, she slandered Mormons in the process. She said that if a Mormon child who had polygamous parents read the 10 Commandments at school he would realize his family did not follow them. His parents were adulterers for having multiple wives, so his feelings would be hurt and other children would make fun of him. In the margins I wrote that Mormons do follow the 10 Commandments and in fact, being married means that his parents are not adulterers.***

Then I had the students write critiques of their essays. On hers she wrote that she used an example that required interpretation and she should have interpreted it in her essay. That whether or not polygamers were adulterous was interpretive. She also said that her aunt attended 4 Mormon churches and they did not in fact follow the 10 Commandments. Groan. I didn't read this until after class when I checked their critiques. So I decided I should talk to her after the next class and clear up her misconceptions. That class was on Wednesdy.

But I wasn't really sure what to say to her. I had several variations. Mostly I wanted to tell her that she shouldn't assume that no one in the class was a Mormon, and that she should be more careful about repeating whatever, etc etc. I did not look forward to this chat. I knew it would make her uncomfortable and it would definitely make me uncomfortable. I felt I should tell her I was a practicing Mormon so whatever her aunt had told her, I could trump by actual expertise. Then class ended and I just didn't feel like stopping her, teaching that class is a real struggle, definite teeth-pulling involved. So I let her go.

An interesting coincidence happened the same day I gave them the essays. While I was reading them in fact. One of the other professors in my department told me his son was s teaching in Kansas and how terrible it was to have to be in 'tornado ally'. But that was certainly better than being in Utah with the Mormons. Then he went on a diatribe about what a ridiculous faith it is, how could anyone believe some guy saw God and etc etc....I actually interrupted him and told him I was Mormon. He was horribly embarrassed of course. I tried to assuage him by saying that I wasn't offended at all. I just wanted to stop him before I did get offended. In the past I wouldn't have said anything, just nodded uncomfortably. So I felt pleased with myself for this. Even though it caused him embarrassment and now he no longer respects my ability to reason, it was better than if he found out later on. So I kind of felt LDS-Defender exhausted and puzzled by the weird convergence.

Now it is probably too late. I'm kind of relieved. But I wonder if I have been disloyal to my church. Do I have a responsibility to clear up misconceptions whenever I come across them? I think I probably do. What do you think? What would you have done?

***For the record: Mormons do not practice polygamy and have not for over 100 years. Any member of the church caught in a polygamous marriage is excommunicated from the church and no longer a Mormon. There are some freaky groups calling themselves Mormon and practicing polygamy but they are not part of the real church.
**I happened to be more offended by the student's error in reasoning than I was in her factual errors. Which is why I didn't make a note of this on the paper.


Breakup Remorse: Baggage Handling

It was not having sex that made me so insecure with him. I knew he liked me, was attracted to me and enjoyed my company. But I knew he was used to sleeping with his women. I knew he wanted to sleep with me too. I didn't know how to maturely deal with the situation. Our discussion about sex went as follows:

"By the way, you're not getting any from me."
"I figured as much. That was an odd way to put it."
"Well, it's not an easy thing to bring up."
"I imagine so."

Then we went back to kissing.

The insecurity and non-communication are what led to our weird confusing break up. That, and my intermittent psychotic episodes. (I wasn't hallucinating but was delusional and paranoid.) Now, I'm afraid he thinks I gave him a marriage ultimatum. Which is completely ridiculous because we weren't even officially a couple. I would be ok with his misconception if he kept it to himself. But now I think he's telling other people.

Our mutual friend let one of her smug comments slip at a dinner party last week. She likes to make private jokes that she thinks are opaque. She gets this smug grin on her face when she thinks she knows something you don't. I figured out they used to sleep together because of one of her 'private' jokes. The latest one had to do with marriage and leads me to believe he is telling people I wanted to marry him. Which makes me sick. You make one psycho phone call in the middle of the night and it screws everything up....

Here is what actually happened.

We broke up in June. In May, I hit my lowest point emotionally. They told me my cat was dying and that they wanted to fire me from my job. After the boss gave me that speech, detailing all the things I had done wrong, I needed to see my man. I needed someone to comfort me. I was a mess. So I called him and asked if I could come over, but he said 'no, he had to get up early for a bris.' I was crying on the phone but he was oblivious. I should have been more forceful but I already felt so broken. I cried all the way home from Manhattan.

The next day I called to see if we could have dinner. He couldn't because he had planned to go out drinking with his students after class. I had meant before class...but he didn't get it. I tried to explain but he was not listening again. It never occurred to him to invite me along. We'd been dating for 7 months so you'd think he wouldn't mind bringing me along to things. But he never invited me along for anything. He suggested we go to a movie tomorrow instead. The next day, after my class, I turned on my phone and found a pissy message from him. He wanted to know why I wasn't answering because we were supposed to go out. Because he didn't listen when I told him what time my class ended! Stupid jerk.

When I called back, he took an attitude with me. I defended myself but agreed to see him anyway. I was extremely fragile and still resentful about his rejection the two nights previous. On my way to Union Square I got angry about his attitude so I decided to go home instead. I texted him that I wasn't in the mood for a movie anymore. That must have made him mad. He was already waiting for me. But he didn't say anything or complain at all. Now I can see that he punished me for it. He does that, he silently punishes those who wrong him. Of course, I did the same thing by canceling without telling him why. Weren't we a passive aggressive pair?

After that I tried to see him a few more times, but he didn't have time for me, everything else was more important. I realized then I was his last priority. I could list 10 things he had chosen over me. This hurt. I was nothing more than a tryst of convenience, something to do when he had nothing else. So, I decided to stop asking him out. If he wanted to see me he had to ask me for awhile. As each day passed and he said nothing, I grew more hurt and angry. It wasn't fair. He wasn't my last priority. Stupid jerk. At this point my unstable mind created all kinds of scenarios to explain the discretion; that he was just using me to amuse himself, it had all been a game to see how far he could go with me, etc. I was losing my grip on reality.

Four weeks passed. In my mind we were already broken up and he was glad to be rid of me. I had stopped calling him too, but he still called me everyday to talk. I figured the calls were for his own personal whatever. By then it was June and one day I magically got a text saying he could come to see me next week if he was invited. I was supposed to be thrilled? Ok, for 5 minutes I was thrilled, and texted back 'you're invited'. 10 minutes later, I went crazy. I grew enraged with him for suddenly thinking I'd want to see him after all this time. For not noticing that we hadn't gone out in a month. So I texted him again, "You are uninvited. I don't have time for you either." He gave no reply. I had a screaming fit and threw things around my apartment, breaking things. My rage scared me. In the morning I sent an apology, I felt really bad about it. He made no reply. We didn't talk for a week.

But we did talk before my psycho call. It went well. I apologized for canceling and explained why I had done it. He had noticed I stopped asking him out, but he was giving me space because I was so depressed. He thought I wanted to be left alone, that if I wanted to see him I would have said something. Because I'm better at communicating than he is. That fact should have sent me screaming into the hills.

Afterwards, I remember not being able to sleep but feeling better about us. My mind raced and obsessed with our problems until I suddenly needed to talk to him. It was 1 am. I HAD TO TALK TO HIM. I needed to know if it was worth putting all this work into our relationship. Would he ever marry a non-Jew? I didn't know. I would just ask him. I wasn't getting what I needed from him now, so I wanted to know if I should keep trying. I made the call but some psycho switch had gone off in my head.

First I asked if I could come over--which was insane, it would have taken at least 2 hours to get to Brooklyn by subway at that hour. He said 'yes', obviously thinking I wanted to make a booty call(the non intercourse makeout kind.) Um, no. Realizing this I chose to talk to him over the phone instead. I said, "I need to know if there is a chance we will ever get married. Because I need to have sex someday so I need to find someone who will marry me. If that's not where this is going then I need to stop wasting my time."

OY! I cringe typing the words. I had to have been out of mind. I knew better. How those words came out instead of what I really meant, I don't know. But he said that was understable. We should talk in person about it. I knew he wasn't good on the spot so I told him to take some time to think about it. The other time I asked him about our relationship, and whether or not we were exclusive, all he could say was, "I'm not prepared to answer that question right now." After 30 minutes of me trying to get some kind of statement of commitment from him or just an admission that he had feelings for me, I got nothing. So I went on a date with someone else. That's another story. It came back to bite me on the rear. But I had learned he couldn't answer questions about his emotions until he had time to think about them first.

That's why we made plans to meet in the city. It was awful, I was so nervous. I thought he understood what I wanted but he didn't. He surprised me by saying that he thought our relationship was totally casual. That he had good reason to think so, especially since I was dating other people. "Excuse me? I only went out with that one guy because you couldn't tell me you wanted to be exclusive. And I haven't gone out with anyone else since." He asked me why not. "Because I don't want to go out with anyone else. I only want to be with you." He seemed surprised. I certainly didn't have casual feelings for him, and I wasn't taking this relationship casually. I tried to tell him what I wanted, some kind of commitment and definition to the relationship. I needed to know what I had a right to ask of him. I'm sure I didn't make myself clear.

It didn't matter anyway. He couldn't hear me. He could only hear my words from the night before...'I want to get married....' He asked me if I really wanted things to change between us. I said I needed them to, I couldn't go on this way. He said he didn't want them to change. Of course not! This relationship had been totally easy for him. He agreed that it had. He gave me nothing. I told him to think about it some more.

Then, a strange thing happened. He asked me to join him on Friday, he was having a drink with a student and her boyfriend. I got so excited. What a couple thing to do. I thought it meant he understood and wanted the same thing I did. I ignored that he said he wanted me there because he thought the boyfriend was jealous he had been spending time with his student. Had I thought more about it I would have realized a man does not invite his girlfriend in such a way. But I didn't get it, that he only wanted me there to make it less awkward for himself.

On Friday, I was having nasty anxiety and had arrived at the bar before everyone else. The bartender yelled at me for reading a paper and not ordering anything. I told him I was waiting for people. He said this wasn't a public park. That made me feel worse. When he got there I told him how badly I was feeling. He tried to comfort me and we cuddled on the couch. Until the other people arrived. Then he sat up straight and moved away from me. The couple was pleasant, and we had a nice time until they asked us if we were dating. I said, "I don't know, are we?"--with obvious venom. He said he was going to ask me the same thing. Which irked me. After that we commenced in thinly veiled bickering. We probably made the other couple very uncomfortable. Afterwards, he and I had a nice dinner together. I went home completely confused about our relationship status, and afraid for my mental health, and afraid for my dying cat, and worried about my career and not having enough money...

It was an ugly summer.

The next week I met him in midtown to help him look for new shoes. We stopped for lunch and I tried to talk to him about us. What had he decided? Looking back, I don't think either of us even understood what the question was. I said, "So what's the deal?" and he said, "I want to be a fashionista. What does one have to do to be a fashionista?" That's the kind of behavior one finds charming at first but... I knew the signs. I'd been in this type of situation before. We were breaking up. If he had good news he'd talk. I grew forlorn and didn't press him. Not until I was in line for the bus to go home.

I said, "So that's it then? We're done?" He nodded his head. "Ever since you brought up marriage it changes everything. You don't want to end up with me. You want to marry someone like you. You're going to hate me in 6 months anyway." I tried to explain that I wasn't asking him to marry me but he wasn't listening. It was so humiliating, to be dumped in public like that. I did everything I could to keep from crying in front of him. Instead, I cried myself home again. Here's the post I wrote afterwards.

Why did I want him anyway? Why should I feel any remorse over him? True, he sounds like a grade-A monkey's arse. Which he was indeed, but he was more than that too. He was affectionate and sweet, funny, easy to talk to and so patient with me. Sexilicious too, our chemistry was atomic. It was so easy to be with him--when we were actually together, it felt so natural. No one else made me feel so calm and safe. His ordered mind gave my crazed one a rest. It felt so good to be with him that I hated being away from him. Because when he wasn't there I was left on my own in the crazed hurricane of my psyche. Without any promises that he'd come back. A dangerous place to be, making me too needy.

Which is why I needed the relationship as it was to end. It had caused me incredible torment, at a time when I didn't have the emotional stability to deal with it. However, I wish things hadn't ended in such a confused way. Obviously, part of me wanted to get out. I said the 'M'-word! What a major, unbelievably self-sabotaging mistake! What I really wanted to say, I was too afraid to utter. Too afraid to ask him to make me a priority in his life, to afraid he'd say 'no'. So instead I made sure he'd say 'no' by using the worst words possible, the only words in the English language guaranteed to run off a man. Brilliant.

So many things were wrong with us. With me. It still makes me sad now to think that it ended with such a misunderstanding. Sad that I could be so insecure because of sex. Frightened by how insane I was. Wishing I had the skills to say what I needed and wanted. Scared to try again with someone else. My heart was smushed. This makes me think I can't date non-celibate men. Not until I have the chops to know that I am worthwhile even when I don't put out. It leaves me feeling hollow. And more than annoyed that he's telling people I gave him a marriage ultimatum. At least you, my dear readers, will know the truth. I was crazy, but not so insane to do that!


And the winner is...

Time to announce our winner of the pathetic personal ad contest! We got some excellent entries, even though there weren't a whole lot. Thank you everyone who participated and put herself and himself on the line. Be proud of your singlehood, and display your faults to the world!

First prize

DWM, 29, skinny. Works part-time at religious magazine, but is spiritually indecisive. Prone to procrastination. Will not finish undergraduate degree in impractical magor by 30. Has been diagnosed with several exciting mental illnesses and has history of addiction. Cannot keep pets alive, even fish. Has few material possessions. Lives with father. Washes hair infrequently and sense of style has been described as "classy hobo". Uses public transportation. Would write more, but can't afford it.

Yay! Please give a round of applause to our saddest single! Since you live in Utah you are spared the ignominy of having to go out with me. But the other fabulous prize is: you can write a guest post on CITC!! Yay! How excited are you? I bet you are just peeing in your pants from your unbelievable joy and excitement. Understandably, you were spared a date with me, the other mentally ill single.

Runner up:
Mike A
He wins for showing so much enthusiasm, and for his new unemployed status. Hooray!! You are also spared from having to go out with me. But you can have a guest post on here too. I guess Casanova should have 2 guest posts to signify his superiority over you, but you can have one. Now here's Mike's ad, it's nothing to sneeze at for pathetique:

SWM. 27 year old commitmentphobic, overweight, balding, unemployed college dropout seeks SF well out of his league. Possible mental health issues are/will be hidden rather than treated properly. Homeowner… in Oklahoma. Newly unemployed status also means that this winner will soon need to mooch off his parents to make the mortgage payments, and may eventually move into his parent’s basement! Call now, guys like this don’t come along everyday!

If you guys come up with a prize you'd like better, that I could actually award you, then let me know. Otherwise, you are stuck with guest blogging, on the topic of your own choosing though!

Here's is a list of the other sad contenders with links for the bloggy ones.

Honorable Mention:

Doug Geiger

If you missed their ads the first time, go back and read them HERE. Thanks again everyone! If you'd like to throw your ad in the ring you are welcome to do so, but the contest part is now over.

P.S. My brother has emailed Feather. Her personal ad made me think they might be compatible so I passed her email along. Everyone keep your fingers crossed.


'I want to cuts someone to coils!'

Anyone know what this is? I'm guessing it translates english web pages into french and then back into english? Here's the link and what I found there: click here

If you don't want to visit the link, here is a sample of what you will see. My blog horribly transfigured.

Give I' D it up

I don' T want to Be alone anymore. The loneliness is making me sick. It all feels completely pointless. I want to cuts someone to coils. Someone to talk to, who will hold me, smile At me, care yew I get out of bed in the morning... it' S too hardware to Be everything for yourself all the time.

Give The unfeminist truth is that I' D up everything I' ve achieved to cuts someone to coils. I don' T feel like has complete person. I don' T feel like has useful person. I hate my job. I don' T feel like I' m living room the life I was made for. What that means I don' T know.

Is that what happens when computers translate?
There was more!
Magic Car Wrinkles, share I

The weekend of my birthday blew goats. I had been too down to plan anything spectacular gold even semi-fun so I left everything to the last minute. Some friends offered to plan something for drank me I couldn' T make up my mind. Half of me didn' T want to C anything At all. I was less than enthused butt turning 30 and still feeling sickly.

Meanwhile, I was one the superantibiotics to kill my kidney infection and feeling has little woozy. The wooziness turned into has full-blown nasty cold. So it turned out to Be has good thing that I had plane No. That meant I spent the 11th and 12th one drank my couch watching TV, blowing my nose and sporadically crying. I also had to walk the 1/2 mile to the drugstore and back while feeling like every step brought me closer to death. With few people reported sending me gifts in the mall drank they hadn' T arrived yet. I had one card with happy sunflowers taped to my wall. (Kisses, Paul!)


One Monday, I still felt sick goal had to teach in Length Island, I' D already cancelled class twice this semester. After lecturing for 3 hours, the thought of my 3 hour commutates made me even more ill. So that' S when I decided to rent the bus and drive myself home instead. Drive That wasn' T very pleasant because I was so nervous. It was much nicer than walking drank 2 miles, riding the train, switching to another train, taking the subway, riding the drunk and walking has 1/2 mile. Much, much better than that. The bus they gave me was hot! With silver Mazda 3. It had has semi-manual setting which made it even cooler and more fun to drive.


I'd give it up

I don't want to be alone anymore. The loneliness is making me sick. It all feels completely pointless. I want to have someone to love. Someone to talk to, who will hold me, smile at me, care if I get out of bed in the morning...it's too hard to be everything for yourself all the time.

The unfeminist truth is that I'd give up everything I've achieved to have someone to love. I don't feel like a complete person. I don't feel like a useful person. I hate my job. I don't feel like I'm living the life I was made for. What that means I don't know.

The really bad thing is I don't know what to do about it. Mormon men aren't interested in me, normal men expect sex which I can't give them so I'm kind of SOL here. I was thinking earlier that I wish someone had told me this would happen, but someone actually did. When I was an undergrad, an annoying member of the bishopric used to tell me I needed to change my major to something like music. That I was going to educate myself out of marriage. I was suitably offended and arrogantly assumed he was wrong. Ha! But he was right.


I know readers here have rejoiced in the upswing of my mood, and I'm sorry but it tanked again last week. This has been the cycle since last summer. I'll be doing better, getting better for a few weeks and then one day I wake up and crash back down to pits of hell. It feels like madness because it is so completely arbitrary and out of my control. I've never experienced mental illness this way before. The crashes aren't like regular depression either, it feels more like a personality impairment. And it pisses me off so much and I can't seem to do anything about it so that makes me depressed. But I'm off all my meds now so I can't blame them anymore. In fact, the only reason I've been able to keep blogging this week is, I think, because I started taking some old lithium pills. They seem to take the edge off quite a bit. However, if wishes were granted I wouldn't wake up tomorrow. And this mood does not help my solitary situation at all.

Yeah. Here's my personal ad folks:

SWF. Mentally ill, celibate, over-educated, underemployed, underpaid, in major debt, lonely, religious, damaged 30 year old with an attitude! Reply now before these goods disappear! Don't let this one escape, she's the woman of your dreams!

See, you want to laugh because it's funny, except it's also really sad so you feel guilty for wanting to laugh. Which means now you hate me for making you uncomfortable. You should have just laughed. No one is judging you. It was meant to be funny. So laugh, damn you, laugh!

**Davis, of ubiquitous bloggernacle fame, just gave me an idea on how to lighten things up around here. WRITE YOUR OWN CELIBATE PERSONAL AD! Put it in the comments. The person who makes themselves sound the most unappealing wins a date with me--or some other better prize. ;) ***


Magic Car Ride, part I

Ah, driving. Nothing else so wonderful, magical, peaceful. For my 30th birthday present to myself I rented a car for 3 days. (I later guilted Pops into paying for it since he didn't even send me a card.) It was sweet bliss. Although I'm still waiting for his check.

The weekend of my birthday blew goats. I had been too down to plan anything spectacular or even semi-fun so I left everything to the last minute. Some friends offered to plan something for me but I couldn't make up my mind. Half of me didn't want to do anything at all. I was less than enthused about turning 30 and still feeling sickly.

Meanwhile, I was on the superantibiotics to kill my kidney infection and feeling a little woozy. The wooziness turned into a full-blown nasty cold. So it turned out to be a good thing that I had no plans. But that meant I spent the 11th and 12th on my couch watching TV, blowing my nose and sporadically crying. I also had to walk the 1/2 mile to the drugstore and back while feeling like every step brought me closer to death. A few people reported sending me gifts in the mail but they hadn't arrived yet. I had one card with happy sunflowers taped to my wall. (Kisses, Paul!)

On the birthday day, my friend Barbara knocked on my door, waking me at noon, singing with a birthday cupcake and some gifts. It was so sweet of her! I also got some very nice phone calls that Sunday as well. One of my good friends offered to come over and bring some movies so I wouldn't be alone. Very sweet! That would have been great but I didn't want to make him sick so I told him not to come.

On Monday, I still felt sick but had to teach in Long Island, I'd already cancelled class twice this semester. After lecturing for 3 hours, the thought of my 3 hour commute made me even more ill. So that's when I decided to rent the car and drive myself home instead. That drive wasn't very pleasant because I was so nervous. But it was much nicer than walking 2 miles, riding the train, switching to another train, taking the subway, riding the bus and walking a 1/2 mile. Much, much better than that. The car they gave me was hot! A silver Mazda 3. It had a semi-manual setting which made it even cooler and more fun to drive.

After arriving home, I found two packages waiting for me. Yay! Presents! One was a box of cookies sent by mom and another was a complete surprise from my friend April in Louisiana. She sent a big box of lots of goodies that I had fun opening. (Love ya Girl!) So the day after my birthday was a lot better than my birthday day.

That's when I decided to make good use of the 24 hours I had with the car. So I invited some friends to go on a day trip with me up the Hudson River. We'd just drive to see what we could see. I only had one taker which was fine, a trip for two is a lovely thing. Poor Barbara agreed to go with a huge fake smile on her face. She looked like she had hemorrhoids when she asked where we were driving to. She said, "It sounds great," and couldn't have looked more in pain. I told her I didn't mind if she stayed home, it didn't hurt my feelings if she didn't want to go. She thanked me with great relief. Her loss.

Stay tuned for the story of our magical car ride. It turned out exactly as I had hoped, with a few surprises.