Do the Crime...

I am fucked.

Ten days ago, I got pulled over for first running a red light and then, in a move obviously designed to deliberately piss off the cop, I flicked my cigarette butt out the window. I know, I know. Littering is bad. Running red lights; also bad. I'm not here to bemoan the fact that I got caught doing two illegal things. I am here to say, that for the 1st time since I turned 18, I may be in a serious spot of doodoo.

I was all set to make a payment plan with the township to pay off the fines. $400+ is not an amount of money I generally have lying around. I should have been a good doobie and taken care of it the same day I got pulled over. However, I am a procrastinator and apparently even the threat of warrants being issued can't get me offa my lazy ass.

Since I had no intention of telling my parents that I got pulled over, I thought that I oh-so-carefully tucked those stupid pieces of yellow paper into my wallet. Easy to remember where I put them but hidden away from inquisitive eyeballs. Not that my parents are super-nosy or anything. I was just being cautious. Evidently I was cautious to the point of being magic because those fucking things have disappeared.

They are not in my wallet. They are not in my purse. They are not in the bag I take to work. They aren't under the front passenger seat of my car. They aren't in the trash bag in my car. They aren't in the random pile of shit on my table in the apartment. I do not have them, Sam I am.

Still, I wasn't at the despairing point. I figured I could call the township, get directed to the department I needed, have them find me in the system using my last name or license number, and proceed with the payment plan option. I found the number for the muni building, called during my break and was transferred by a nice lady to the department I needed. There was no answer. I tried calling the police department later that day and the friendly man who answered the phone said that I needed to speak to the court. He very helpfully said, "There's a number in the corner of your ticket-". In my head: FUCK. Out loud: "Oh damn, I don't have the ticket right in front of me. I'll call back later." The friendly man said okie-dokie.

I'm starting to panic a bit at this point. I hop on Google and try to find a breakdown of the courts in the township (oh hell, it was Bensalem) to see if I could figure out which court would be handling my situation. Google wasn't especially helpful. I went to the Bucks County site, back to the Bensalem twp and Bensalem PD sites, and some random site that wasn't helpful. Goddamn internets!

Don't think that I'm blaming Google for my troubles. I know I should have taken care of all this at the earliest opportunity, but I still have no idea how my tickets got so thoroughly lost. Even if they had fallen out of my purse at my parents' house, Mom and Dad would have left them in the usual spot. I may have gotten a lecture from Dad about littering, but lectures I can handle. Jail, however, is something else entirely.

Oh, the Heartbreak

Sunday is rapidly becoming my least favorite day of the week. Is it because of the massive amounts of laundry I have to do? No. Is it because I am so burnt out on my job that I can't bear the thought of another week starting? Good guess, but no. Sundays, along with this coming Thursday and the occasional Monday, suck because my beloved Philadelphia Eagles are outdoing themselves in the suckiness department.

Oh sure, the defense still performs (mostly), Westbrook does the best he can (which is pretty damn good), and Desean Jackson has some serious potential, but that's not enough. Our team can't bring the run, I think Andy Reid's brain is being throttled by cholesterol and McNabb has all but given up. Putting Kolb in for the second half of yesterday's game was a brilliant decision - if Reid was looking to showcase how the Birds can fail regardless of who is throwing the ball. I don't know why they bother keeping up the fiction that McNabb, or Kolb, is throwing to his team. Just pitch the ball to the opposting team and then stand aside and let them run it in. Nothing like upping the stats of the opposing team's defense. Some defensive players go their whole career without scoring a touchdown. Not anymore kids! Come to Philly! Score some points!

Anyone who knows me know that I have never been a fan of Donovan McNabb, aka: Fat Ass, Penishead, and Donovan "It's not my fault" McNabb. I feel that McNabb had potential 10 years ago when the Eagles drafted him. I also feel that McNabb never had the necessary fire to become a truly great QB. Yes, I know the man has battled season-ending injuries and come back to play again. However, one needs to ask: Did he come back better? Or even as good? My answer is gonna have to be "no".

A couple of years ago, it seemed that McNabb was well on his way to greatness - draggin my belagured Eagles behind him. My parents and I went to the last regular season game played in the Vet (Birds-Cards). The was the game when McNabb busted his ankle and you know what? He played pretty damn good. I don't remember the final score, but I know the Eagles won. Now that I think about it, that may have been their Super Bowl season. Don't quote me, though.

I am well aware that being a Philly sports fan is an act of raging masochism. Sure, the Soul and the Phillies won championships, and the Wings were good about 10 years ago, but successful sports franchises are few and far between here in Philthydelphia. And don't point out to me all the other cities that haven't brought a championship home in longer than it has been for Philly. I don't care about them. I'm too busy crying Eagles green.

Dunzo

My brief spate of fickleness has passed. I have decided that the thing with K is not going to happen. Obviously feeling "meh" about the sitch was a fairly good indicator that we were not destined for ever-lasting lurrrrrrve. And it probably wasn't a good sign that I got all salty when he asked, nay, told me to try to express my feelings. Sorry dude, you can't express what isn't there.

The following day he was his usual text message-y self. To avoid dealing with him during work hours, I told him I was busy. Later that night he sent me more messages. He asked if everything was OK. I said there was some stuff on my mind and he immediately asked if it was him.

Duh.

No, I didn't say that! Sheesh, what kind of person do you think I am? You know what - never mind answering that. Anyway, I said I needed some thinking time and that we'd talk the next day. He called me right then.

Guh.

Kind of defeats the whole purpose of "time to think", K. I said as much to him and got off the phone rather quickly. Later that evening I felt kind of bad for being shirty and sent him this: You're coming on too strong emotionally and I don't deal well with that. The first part is true. More on the second part later.* I didn't get a reply until the next morning. He said: I knew it was me. I'm sorry.

Oy.

K, if you knew it was you then why did you push it? The reply? I don't know. I'm an idiot. Taking a small amount of pity on him (sorry for the rule #5 violation), I said You're not an idiot. Really, yeah he is. Next came: I'll understand if you don't want to see me anymore. Now, I really should have just nipped the whole thing. Said: Good because I don't want to. However, in my moment of pity, I told him that I didn't know yet if I wanted to see him again. I don't want to see him again. In the spirit of full disclosure, I had a moment the other night where I got a bit skeeved remembering the making out. So all that remains, if I'm going to be a nice(ish) person, is to tell him it's over.

*Here is my more. I'm fine with talking about my feelings if there are any feelings there. It's not always the easiest thing to do, but I'm not going to manufacture an emotional conversation to satisfy your needs.

One last thing. I've been the person who is more emotionally involved before. The key to not completely ruining things is to HIDE IT. Or at least let it leak out sloooooowly. Wait until you are more certain of a positive response. You're probably never going to have absolute certainty, but there are times that work better than others. It doesn't make your feelings less valid, but it (in my experience) makes is less likely to frighten the other person away. This isn't to say that people who have expressed the heavy stuff early have disastrous relationships. If K had been someone else, I may have been all about the gooshy.

Doubtful, equivocal, fluctuating, inconclusive, irresolute, mixed, uncertain, undecided, vacillating, warring, wavering

OK, for serious people - what the fuck is wrong with me? Wait, wait, before you offer up suggestions, allow me to be more specific.

I saw K last night. It was mostly a repeat of Friday night with one distinct difference: I didn't have the giddy, shaky, OMG, I MADE OUT!!!!11! feeling I had Friday after K left. I don't know if it is because the novelty wore off that quickly, or if it is because I got my make-out fix and I'm good for a while or what. I understand that the first flush of infatuation can pass in a blink, but one time? Really?

Maybe it was his refusal to have the sex. I do respect his decision to wait, but dammit, I need cock! He may prefer to take it slow physically, but I'm all about taking it slow emotionally. Don't love me - fuck me. Sure, sure, K says he has had bad experiences with being physically intimate quickly, but don't judge me on your past experiences. Stop laughing. I know everyone does this - yes, everyone, but it still chaps my ass. I do the best I can to separate my past from my present and future. I'm sure it's been mixed results regarding the success of that effort.

K has also taken to sending me "xoxo" texts. I feel that it is way too soon for "xoxo" texts. While his enthusiasm is flattering, I'm a little turned off by the overeager puppy vibe. He says that I'm the one good thing he has to look forward to (we have dinner planned for Friday). Dude, I'm really sorry you got laid off and a summons for jury duty, but please don't put the burden of your happiness on my shoulders. I did not want to go from single to smothered in one easy step. It's too soon to be all tentacle-y.

I realize that I'm being awful picky and ambivalent. I was all about him right up until he came over last night. I still wanted to make-out with him, but that could be because I'm still filling those tanks. He is sweet and nice and smart and occasionally funny. We like a lot of the same things. He's a decent kisser and not shy about telling me what he wants and very eager to please. He likes my cooking and can pick out an acceptable bottle of wine. What's the problem? Is it that he's not normally someone I'd be attracted to? Physically, I mean. Dunno. All I do know is that I need to figure out how I'm going to deal with this. Knowing me, I'll decide tomorrow to tell him it's not gonna happen, and then want him back on Wednesday. Welcome to my life.

Feel Free to Laugh at Me After Reading This

Mmmmmmm, second chances are good.

Since most of you who read this blog are people I talk to on a regular basis, I'm gonna briefly sum up what's been going on with K for the last week.

I felt like a giant tool for blowing him off last Thursday. I mean seriously mental. I was obsessing on having maybe ruined everything. Yes, I KNOW I said I wasn't interested - bear with me here. I decided to apologize for being a jerk and he said "It's OK." Me being the wonderfully contrary person I am, decided that that wasn't enough. I wanted to be back where we were. I missed hearing from him.

At this point I started to wonder if I wanted him to continue pursuing me because of the ego thing (which I believe I mentioned in a previous post). When there was no contact all day Friday, I was a mess. All I could think about was grabbing him and kissing him, potential awkwardness be damned. So around 10pm Friday night I sent him a text saying something along the lines of, yes I'm a tool but I don't want things to be like this. By 11:30 there was still no reply and I figured that was my answer.

OK, this is too detailed. 50 words or less time. He called me, we talked most everyday I was gone. Came over last night for dinner (after getting fired, poor thing), had some good convo, watched The Goonies, made out a whole lot. Yup, you read that right.

I dig this guy. The movie-quoting thing isn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. The kissing was gooood. The other stuff - also good. Nice girls don't kiss and tell. OK, you can stop laughing now.

Familial Obligations

So I'm back from the land of cheese; lovely snowy miserable Wisconsin. Yes, as soon as we drove into WI, it started snowing. Blergh. At least I wasn't driving - though I paid my dues because it rained everytime I drove. Again, blergh.

As nice as it was to be away from work; the trip to WI was more duty than pleasure. I hadn't seen my grandparents since their 60th anniversary party back in '04 or so. My grandfather has been sliding down the slippery slope of dementia - probably vascular, not Alzheimer's. My mom and my uncle had both warned me about the changes to my grandfather, but I wasn't truly prepared for the complete lack of recognition. He doesn't talk much anymore, not that he was ever a chatterbox. That was more my grandma's job. He eats like he's starving and he used to be very precise and fastidious. My grandmother is doing the best she can, but I know it's all very difficult for her. She fusses and dithers and by the end of the second day I was thoroughly tired of being the cheery and good-natured granddaughter. I moved TVs, installed outdoor thermometers, pumped gas, and ate lots of raw veggies (Grandma is a BIG believer in the raw veg). By the time of our departure Wednesday afternoon, I was supremely grateful that my grandmother is not a fan of long, drawn-out good-byes.

I was hoping to have something mature and insightful to say about the inevitability of aging, but really, I am just sad. I'm glad I got to see my grandparents because, let's face it, at 89 and 90, it may have been for the last time.

Fickle, thy name is Carrie G

After my not exciting date, I wasn't getting the same level of contact from K. That was fine with me. With any luck, he sensed the lack of interest/sparks and was willing to let things fade away. Then, for no apparent reason, I couldn't stop thinking about him. Not so much of the "oh, I suddenly loooooove him" variety. More of the "why isn't he pining for me in a visible, ego-boosting way?" variety. Yeah, I'm a bitch. (I also realize that I use quotation marks too much. Oh well.)

Why is it that when he started texting me again, I was annoyed? Wasn't I just thinking that he should be pursuing me regardless? That my lack of interest shouldn't have deterred him? Am I secretly desiring a showdown where I gently but firmly express my lack of attraction? I sure hope not. I suppose I could do what my dad suggested and tell K that office romances are a bad idea, but I feel like that leaves things too open-ended. Like I'm saying I would get with him if I got a new job.

Several of my friends have suggested using K to get mine. One friend said I should get mine while picturing someone else. Pfft, like I haven't done that before. And I have thought about it. Just overwhelming the awkwardness with a whirlwind sexual advance, riding him hard and leaving him a quivering pile of movie-quote-spewing man jelly. However, I forsee a couple of problems with that approach. One, that's just not nice. Two, if he's as inexperienced as I think he is (an unfair assumption, but again, oh well), it'll probably attach him even more firmly to me. That's kinda the opposite of what I'm going for. Three, I'm not about the awkward, potentially bad sex. I know there are people out there who will disagree, but to me, no sex is preferable to awkward, potentially bad sex.

I really should do the grown-up thing and tell K that I'm not attracted to him. It isn't fair to keep up the communication when I have no intention of taking things any further. BUT! I still have the niggling fear that I'm not giving him a fair chance. HOWEVER! Not attracted is not attracted, right? RIGHT?!?

Second Chances

As little as I am attracted to K, there is part of me that feels bad for not giving him more of a chance. 'Cause, honestly, there's nothing seriously wrong with him. And even though our date was pretty boring, it wasn't a disaster.

I wonder why I feel any sort of obligation. Sure, I don't want to hurt his feelings any more than I have to - because face it, rejecting him at any point from here on out is going to hurt his feelings - but his happiness isn't my responsibility. Am I falling into the "Fuck, I'm 30 and single and what if I never find anyone and is it really settling?" trap? Do I have some sort of duty to dig as deep as I can before I make a decision? Why am I such a victim of society's need to see me partnered?

Actually, I'm not a victim. There isn't anyone who is pushing me to pair up. My friends offer to/wish they could set me up, but that's because I've expressed a desire to be in a relationship. My parents don't skulk around, wishing loudly for grandchildren. I'm comfortable with the idea that a person doesn't need to be in a relationship to be happy, but I can't quite make myself believe that I wouldn't be happier with a Stimpy to my Ren.

Boring Recap of a Boring Date

OK, I know there is a handful of people who are hoping for a no-holds barred, action-filled, painfully awkward romp through dating hell. As much as I hate to disappoint my loyal readers; it wasn't anything of the sort.

When K called me earlier this evening, he seemed marginally less awkward. We agreed to meet at 7:30 to shoot some pool. And just for future reference, K: don't say you only need 15 minutes to get somewhere and then tell me you're going to be 10 minutes late. It's just not good business sense.

Honestly, the whole date was so uneventful that it doesn't bear repeating. K was a little better about asking questions and managed not to speak German to me the whole time. I beat him in three straight games. The only relative he seems to give a shit about is his dad. He likes sashimi but not sushi. When he muffed a shot he'd say Oh, bother!" with a British accent. When he had trouble sinking the 4 (the purple one), he called it the evil Barney ball. I tried not to encourage the weirdness, but sometimes I could think of anything neutral to say.

See, pretty boring. I was in fairly typical form. I tried not to censor myself too much because I wanted K to get a taste of the real Carrie G. As I did this, I came to a realization: I'm fairly certain that me being me is unbearably cute to K. No, I don't think I'm irresistible, but I got a pretty serious "You're stinkin' awesome" vibe from him. Quick example - I said something about how the family of my one ex seemed to like me better than they liked their son. K said, "Well, I can see that." This was before I explained how the ex abandoned his baby boy to hitch-hike across the US and a good portion of Canada.

As flattering as it is to have someone interested in me; I'm not going to jump all over it just because I don't currently have any other options. If I were attracted to K, I might be more willing to pursue this, but I'm not. He's a nice dude, but I don't think I have the energy to work through the awkward.

OK, How 'bout This?

Due to several complaints from my loyal readers; I have changed the font color here at Omae Mona. Hopefully this will be easier to read. If not, I'm giving up on having any color at all and it's gonna be black-on-white Times New Roman all the way.