Wednesday, August 31, 2005

so anxious

Temperatures tonight were a little cooler than they have been lately, but that doesn't explain why I had the chills coming home from class. I was briskly walking the few blocks to my bus stop, clutching my tote bag in front of my chest as if it was going to keep me any warmer. And the entire bus ride home, I could feel a draft making its way up my leg as I tried to hold my breath (too many people on the 36 need to wear more deodorant). Even when I got home, all I wanted to do was bundle up in sweats. It took about 20 minutes for me to finally warm up enough to just wear a tshirt and shorts.

I'm not sick. I'm anxious. Or at least I was until I pulled my phone from the depths of the aforementioned tote bag and saw C's number (3 missed calls - all his??). When I get anxious, one of two things happens. Either I get the chills and start to feel somewhat ill or nauseous, or I have to pee a lot. I don't like feeling anxious.

He called. Why do I feel such validation when a guy says he will call and actually follows through on his promise?

I called back. Straight to voicemail. Left a message. Now I'm back to waiting again.

I'm still anxious now, just in an impatient sort of way. Not tired enough to go to bed, I tried to kill time by watching an episode of The Sopranos, but I'm still awake. At least I've got a five-day weekend.

Oh, I've had Kanye stuck in my head all day.

Monday, August 29, 2005

things could be looking up

Saturday night made up for the foggy, dramatic haze that was Friday evening.

Leslie and I made plans for the bars, the same plans we make week after week. We no longer look at this as a novel idea - it's just what we do. After drinks at a small place near my apartment (a place far better suited to beginning your evening than rounding it out), we walked past the Lincoln Park brownstones and headed to our usual stretch of fratty bars. You'd think this would get old after awhile, but there are nights when I'm craving a place where I can dance my ass off with my girlfriends, ignore the guys in the striped shirts and square-toe shoes, and truly enjoy myself. Seeing as it was just Les and I, this area was exactly where we needed to be. She was without her boyfriend for the night and me, I've been without a boyfriend for over a year now.

Leslie made a few calls, one of which was to C, the gay-straight friend of her's that kissed me at the bar last weekend. (He is definitely not gay. We came to that conclusion prior to him kissing me, but I do have this strange knack for attracting guys who other people think may have gay tendencies - but that's another post entirely). C was with friends, heading to a bar across from the place we were. Another beer later and Leslie and I were making our way across the street to one of the few bars on the street where we've yet to go. It's definitely way too clubby for my taste and I doubt I will be making a return trip, but since we flirted our way out of the $5 cover and got there before the line formed, it wasn't too awful.

Music was good and loud, the crowd was noisy and 50% foreign exchange students, and we were all having a great time. I was trying to keep Leslie away from the strange and potentially creepy dudes that were hovering around her, but early in the night C and I paired off and left Leslie to fend for herself.

When the lights went on and the Tupac abruptly shut off at 3 AM, we were ready to call it a night. Unable to get in touch with her boyfriend (who lives just across the street from the bar), Leslie put herself in a cab and went home. C and I slid into the next cab, unsure of where we would go: his apartment or another bar? Both of our bladders were exploding so we chose his place (really, I think this was pretty obvious from the moment we said goodbye to Leslie).

Dirty details aside, it was a great night. The sleeping together was how I like it - somewhat romantic, somewhat just sleeping. The right mix of cuddling and sticking to your own side of the bed. I hate it when there's too much distance or too much spooning. Generally, I don't cuddle. I can only take so much before I want to spread out and not have an awkward arm under my collarbone.

We woke up groggy and looking rough, especially me and my mess of hair. He drove me home (after telling me he had a car the night before, there was no way he was going to make me take a cab) and, in our driveway, asked for my number after a lingering kiss.

Now I wait.

And the best part about all of this? I completely forgot about The Returning Ex.

Saturday, August 27, 2005

I've got my answer

I woke up at 7 AM and started crying. After awhile I fell back asleep. Now I just wish it wasn't sunny so I could wallow some more.

Last night had promise. Jill & I were out by 8, ready to start our evening at a free drinks party til 9. Within the hour, I was buzzed (2 G&Ts and a Long Island will do that to a girl) and ready to move on to the next party. Jill and Anne in tow (and other friends meeting us), we were among a large crowd of my fellow college alums. They were all a year younger than me, and only a few would I actually consider friends. They were mostly male acquaintences of mine, and good friends of The Returning Ex.

He wasn't there. I wasn't going to ask if he was coming. I waited it out, enjoying myself, drinking too much, and chatting with friends. At some point I turned around and saw him behind me, and he was with the girlfriend.

I didn't know if he had a girlfriend. He never confirmed this with me and his friends didn't really seem to know. I mean, they were asking if WE were dating. So it's perfectly fine for me to be clueless, right? And all of those fabulous things he said to me - how was I know to he was seeing someone else? The way he framed things, I was the only girl in his life.

I don't think I spoke to him. My memory is fuzzy, but I am almost 100% positive that I gave him a dirty look but said nothing. After a few reassuring words from Jill and Anne (you know, where your girlfriends tell you that you are WAY better looking than the other girl), I made my exit. It was time. I had had too much to drink and didn't need to say or do anything stupid.

His friends are having a cookout tonight. They live just up the street from our apartment. Do I go? Do I risk having to face him with her again?

At least now I know where I stand with him.

On another note, I've found a great distraction - filmwise

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

a 250 thread count will do

There's nothing like slipping into a clean-sheeted, freshly made bed. Everything is tight, fitted at the edges, and it's almost an act of acrobatics to climb inside without disrupting the sheet and pulling it out of its tucked in place. My bed only stays this way a day or two after I change the sheets. Within a few, it's been kicked about, tossed in and turned on so that I can no longer tell which direction the sheet should be going. But for now, it's perfect.

My grandma used to keep my bed at their house snug and fresh smelling. When Oma came to tuck me in (or sometimes Opa), I actually felt like I was being tucked, firmly placed into the bed, rather than just settling under the sheets like I did in my bed at home. That's what I like about the newly made bed - the feeling of security and protection that seems to promise a good night's sleep. Maybe that's what I like about sleeping in hotel beds too. Despite knowing that the beds might not always be "freshly made", the sheets are tight enough around the edges to make me believe they were put on just for my arrival.

And the next best thing about bed is that feeling of utter exhaustion, the one you get after a long day on vacation with your family or traveling with friends or even just being out in the sun. The feeling that comes after imagining what it will feel like to lay down and pull the covers up to your chin, to just close your eyes and let your body exorcise its weariness. It is the feeling of finally untucking those sheets, sliding under, and stretching your legs to one end of the mattress while you plump up the pillows (always two) under your face, fold your arms underneath, and fall asleep.

Sunday, August 21, 2005

they keep coming back

Why is it the moment we stop missing someone they step back into our lives? I'm persistent, I don't give up on people easily or very often, so when I do stop considering a person as part of my life, it's a big step. While this can apply to any of my friends, I generally kick guys out of my daily thoughts. One day he's there, a constant image in my brain or his name is dropped into every four conversations or the smallest and strangest things make me think of him. I might linger on a picture of him once in awhile and wonder when we will talk again or see one another and if everything is really over. And if it's over, does that mean not even a friendship? Or has he just lost a place in my life?

Generally I maintain friendships with exes. Although it might not end nicely and we might not be friends immediately following the end of the relationship, we come back together after a few weeks or months and are friends without any of the awkwardness of being former lovers (okay, sometimes there is awkwardness but it depends on the dude). I like that I do have these friendships because there is nothing like a close male friend that knows you intimately. There is none of that weird "What if [insert male friend's name] he likes me? What if I develop feelings for him? Will that ruin the relationship?" because you've already been there. You can just be friends.

But when they suddenly come back into your life and you haven't quite been "just friends" for very makes things awkward. I recently stopped expecting anything to happen again with an ex. We were friends and the last time we saw each other, we ended up spending the night together. It was completely unexpected and pleasantly surprising, but confusing as well. Now what? We were friends, but everytime we saw each other post-breakup, we were getting in each other's pants. What's the deal? I wanted to ask, but knew that such an inquiry could destory everything. There are those questions we think, that burn in our brains, yet we know to ask them will only make him question us. So we ask our girlfriends and we wonder what's going on until something definite happens.

I'm in the questioning period right now. No idea what's going on with the ex who calls me almost every weekend to see what I'm doing for the night or to which bar I'm teetering to in my too-high heels. He ditches his friends to meet up with me, he looks out for my friends and I at the bar when creepy guys linger too long or force their tongues down our throats after doing a very public line of coke. He kisses me on the street corner despite that his friends are nearby. He tells me he's crazy about me and when I take too long arriving at a party, he asks my friends where I am. He holds my hands on our drunken walks home and walks barefoot down Belden so that I can wear his much more comfortable flip flops when my feet hurt. His friends ask if we are dating again.

All of this leaves me wondering what he's thinking, what he wants, and what I want. I won't ask the questions (even though I want the answers) because I don't want him thinking that I'm looking for more of a committment from him. Maybe I do, maybe I don't. But before he walked back into my life (running into him on a busy street outside of a bar), I honestly couldn't see us together. I told myself that it would never have worked out and that I was happy with us being friends, maybe hanging out after he moved to the city. And now that I wake up next to him on Saturday mornings, I'm not sure if I still believe that or not.

I need a new distraction.

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

i hope it doesn't hurt

it's my first time and, i have to admit, i'm a little nervous. at least i'm in my own bed and i made the choice to do this. but still, opening myself up to public scrutiny (and potentially harsh criticism) is something i usually shy away from. especially after witnessing the harshness that occurs when certain teenage girls have blogs and then appear (as heinously spoiled brats) on an MTV reality show.

so here goes, my attempt at writing in public and opening myself up to any and everything......but this is first time will be short and roommate is telling me to stop playing with my new toy (the lovely computer i am working on) and get to bed....she's right. but despite how much sleep i get, i'll still need a large coffee to get me through the first hour or so of work....