May 01, 2008

Love Is a Bloody, Bloody Battlefield, My Friends

Oh, imagine.

Imagine that you are me. You are heading out on your date with the 25-year-old. You have called Neeta, who has told you NO, you cannot wear your free-flowing top with your wide-legged trousers because, damn, Jen, boys have imagination but not x-ray vision and you are always trying to wear something ridiculously modest but an ankle isn't enough to get the curiosity sparked these days, so here you are in a vaguely slinky top and the wide-legged trousers and new shoes.

And you have given said young 'un directions to pick you up, but either he has not listened (typical. ugh, boys), or you have given horrible directions (typical. ugh, girls.), so now you are walking down to meet him at the corner to save time.

Only.

Your shoes are new. And the hill is steep. And your feet slip out from under you and you fall.

But! You rally, you get up, quickly, because the dude who had to STOP HIS CAR IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET TO AVOID RUNNING OVER YOUR PRONE BODY appears to be stuck in this loop of "areyouokaycanicallsomeone? areyouokaycanicallsomeone? areyouokaycanicallsomeone?" and, well, why not help a brother out.

So you haul yourself up, now you won't be at the corner in time and he'll be halfway to Timbuktu, must hurry, hurry, and...

PHFWOOMP!

Down you go again. This time with your tailbone right on the 90-degree angle of the curb, the AWESOMENESS, I cannot tell thee.

What would you do?

I paused briefly, winded, probably kind of in shock, and told the occupant of the OTHER CAR THAT STOPPED TO MAKE SURE I WAS ALIVE that I was fine and considered throwing in the towel. A quick phone call and I'd be nursing my patootie on ice for the rest of the evening and he never even had to know I had a cold sore (yes, despite all your lovely best wishes, it was still there).

But I didn't. I hobbled down to the corner, bleeding all over my blackberry, which I had to retrieve from down the hill, and there he was.

And he stopped at the pizza place and got me some napkins for the blood, and I had a glass of wine and things were OK.

And when I got home and saw the ginormous dried streak of blood on my blackberry?

Part of me was utterly grossed out, yes, but the other part of me?

Totally proud of my war wounds, dude! Seriously, it's like I have conquered Spain!

Dating's a rough-and-tumble world, my friends. You've got to roll with the punches. And right down the hill. Apparently.

Posted by jen at 10:53 PM | Comments (15)

April 21, 2008

The Universe Tries To Tell Me Things All the Time; Why Start Listening Now?

Thank you all for your condonement of my inappropriate dating. I appreciate your support.

The Universe, however, has not been so supportive. I awoke this morning with a seriously MASSIVE cold sore, or The Herp, as Jonniker calls it. I get them about once a year, and leave it to a sunburn and the stress of my weekend work "retreat" to render me ill-suited for my date on Thursday with suitor #2, the 25-year-old.

I am debating whether to cancel and reschedule for next week. But for now I am hiding out in my office with the door closed, not making eye contact with anyone in Trader Joe's and slathering on this crazy French cold-sore-decimating crap I got during my trip to Paris and hoping for the best. And don't worry, I don't plan on exercising my lips in any way on the date, that's not fair, I'd just prefer not to look like I have bubonic plague/leprosy on the first occasion I'll be seeing this dude in a well-lit room.

Part of me does think this is a sign, that I'm being an idiot. But you know? When you work a lot, any bit of fun, no matter how disastrously fated, is something to look forward to, and I'm NOT giving it up.

So SUCK IT, Universe (j/k, please don't ruin my life, sincerely, very truly yours, best regards, LYLAS, have a bitchin' summer, xoxo, Jen).

Posted by jen at 10:17 PM | Comments (5)

March 30, 2008

A Little Sweet, a Little Savory

Holy crap, has it really been that long since I blogged? Oops!

Despite my inability to actually get anything on this here page, in the little book Neeta gave me, I have 3 entries I've started and stopped:

1) Addiction to Life Change, the New Cocaine
2) Battling Your Essential Nature
3) The Hills Premiere

And sure, I think you'd be, oh, ENTHRALLED, by a) my total boredom with my own self, b) my battle with smoking (Jen: 1, smoking: 0), with keeping my apartment clean (Jen: 0, apartment (is it really the winner here, tho?): 1), and c) my belief that Heidi was only really pissed off at Spencer because the "growing" she wanted to do was THE SIZE OF HER LIPS (but really, who can not empathize with the desire to get your collagen injections done off-camera? A big enough zit and I debate going into work. Not really. Sort of.).

But, I've felt kind of stuck, unable to commit to a topic, just like LA (and I) can't seem to commit to a season.

There are signs of Spring:
- It was 90 degrees here weekend before last!
- I got my Hollywood Bowl calendar in the mail
- Broke out the Orly's Passion Fruit, which, DUDE, still has magic powers; the other day, some man on the street literally did a double take over my toes
- I booked my summer vacation -- Costa Rica with Amber!

But there are still signs of Winter:
- I broke it off with the new dude I was seeing, not sure why
- This weekend was my first one completely off in a few weeks, dredging up unpleasant memories of The Christmas That Wasn't
- I've spent the portions of the weekends I wasn't working just trying NOT to be miserable

Basically I think I just haven't committed to what my life is right now. Sometimes I'm just like, WHY, WHY do I have to be single again? WHY, WHY does my job require so much of my time? Which is totally pointless because a) I am and it does, and b) I'm going to miss out on all the fun things about being single and on the time I do have to myself if I don't just COMMIT already. Commit a.k.a. accept reality and stop whining about it.

I think this weekend was a turning point, however. I think I might be ready to fully commit to being single, and to Spring.

i. I hung new thrift store purchase ($9, people!):

ii. Installed an orchid in my other find, a Ritz Carlton silver champagne bucket and stand ($20):

iii. Actually dragged myself away from Stacy and Clinton and went out on Friday night with Neeta in open-toed! shoes and actually gave out my number.

iv. Tried this:

Oh. My. Goodness.

Everyone needs some bacon! and chocolate! together at last.

A little sweet, a little savory.

And maybe if I'm lucky, if I commit, maybe I'll get some more of that. There's always a fair amount of unsavoriness involved in being single -- the drama, the hopes, the fears, the disappointments (sounds like a high school graduation speech, no?). Actually, same goes for work. But usually there's some sweetness and savoriness to balance it out.

So here's my commitment to this being the last time I whine about it (for all our sakes), here's my commitment to Spring. And to chocolate! and bacon! together at last.

Posted by jen at 08:40 PM | Comments (4)

March 04, 2008

Onions Make Me Cry; Dating is Awesome

So, first a disclaimer: none of this is new, something someone else hasn't written about before in a more eloquent and, surely, succinct manner.

Perhaps David & Goliath said it best in just 7 words.

Still, I've been thinking.

Dating someone new is hard, especially if you, like me, are adverse to change. Why can't everyone just kiss the same?

I seek out discernible similarities to people I've known before -- an old lover, a coworker, my brother. It makes the incomprehensibility of all there is to know in a new person less scary. But then I run the risk of not letting them be, not just peeling the onion back slowly and let come what may. I assume based on past prototype -- usually to my own disadvantage.

I also run the risk of writing someone off too early -- if he does this, which He did, doesn't it stand to reason he does That, too? A logician will tell you there is no if --> then relationship between fondness for The Colbert Report and leaving you broken-hearted, but try telling that to a still-grieving heart.

There are lots of other things you can try to no avail to tell a still -grieving heart. Like to trust again, to not believe all boys deserve to be stoned, maybe this time I can peel the onion without ending up sobbing into a handtowel.

I catch myself getting excited every now and then, by something sweet that is said, some interest that is taken in my person. And then I remember, this is New.

It Gets Old. It Ages. It Dies.

So I don't know. I find myself in an odd place.

Hating the New because it's not familiar and warm. But not ready to trust and let something grow Old because probably that will be the Death of it. But at the same time willing the Old to COME ON ALREADY so I can know if it's going to DIE ALREADY AND STOP WASTING MY TIME with some slow Death that I'm just going to have to repeat a year from now ad nauseum until I am 65.

The problem of course is that if you wish to hasten something's demise, it, well, hastens.

Which is why I'm hanging in there, slowly peeling the onion. Even though I've never been able to do so before without crying in the end.

Posted by jen at 10:17 PM | Comments (14)