letter to the editor

dear MD,

okay lady friend....
i think you should cut bait with this dude... because you're waaaaay to sucked into him and he clearly is on a completely different plane of existence.
i'm sure that none of his actions were malicious or even thought out at all. in fact, i'd be willing to bet hes completely unaware.
but i dont think that time is going to heal these wounds... you're already so upset by him and you aren't even completely together yet.

i dunno... you're not crazy. i think you just reaaaaaaally want a relationship, and rightfully so. .. but this boy is not the one i don't think.
you need someone attentive and hes clearly on another planet.

thats just my two cents.

dear reader,

sadly...maybe you are right...

letter to the editor

dear MD,

first, let me reply by saying where in the hell did you go where a wax requires you to be on all fours??? I think you got bamboozled on that one and some chick just liked looking at that angle of you. Of course I would know, I've been to several different locations and never would I have hopped off of a table to do that. Furthermore, I think you should chill the fuck out! I understand the emotions and all but damn! I read this and thought I might have seen horns coming out of your head! LOL. He will call...you will hang out...and feel better in the end. Just focus on that day :)

dear reader,

first, let ME reply by saying that since you are related to me, i will excuse your snappiness. secondly, i can't "chill out". if i could, there would be no blog. furthermore, i've already sabotaged myself (something i'm good at). i sent him a text right before i went to bed saying, "dude. your text message response time is worse than my grandmas'. and they're both dead." i'm now waiting to see how that one goes over.

ps. the horns imagery was appropriate. as i said, i've been watching a lot of true blood season 2.

i wish i was asexual

i was about to title this "i wish i was a lesbian", but i'm pretty sure i would be having the same problems i'm having now only with women, and that may very well be worse than having problems with men. so i'll stick with, "i wish i was asexual", so i wouldn't have to deal with either. and if i can't be asexual, then i wish i'd grown up surrounded by male figures who bestowed in me the male love and "fuck you very much" mentality that i so desperately need and so inherently lack. but alas, i am neither asexual nor built on a foundation of male love. if i was either of those, i would not be so pissed off that that boy has been back in this city for nearly 12 hours and he has made no arrangements to see me. motherfucker.
let me start from the beginning.

so today was the day. today was the day that he was set to return after his month long, godforsaken hiatus. today. 1 month and 4 days since he was last here. 1 month and 7 days since the last time i'd seen him. needless to say, i'd been eagerly anticipating this day, as only a naive bitch could. we boy-talked briefly on sunday (boy-talk is my new term for text messaging) about football. i took his boy-talking as a good sign..."ah, yes. he's about to come back. he's reaching out, communicating, getting back in the swing of things. well done, boy. well done." monday passed, and tuesday came, and i was...not ecstatic, but i was genuinely relieved and happy that the day had finally arrived. NOT that i expected to see him today, but at least, i thought, he will be in the same city and my wait will (just about) be over.

a little before 2 this afternoon, i received a text message from him. another good sign, i thought. he's arrived, AND he's letting me know that he's here...AND making arrangements to see me...i hope. the message read:

I'm baaaaack in l.a. Going to stay at my brother's for a few days while he is out of town and i look for a new joint...come on over one of these nights!

now, in theory, i should have been happy about this right? the part of me that reads about boys and their behavior insists that i should have been content with this outreach. but i wasn't. i found something horribly wrong with it. "come on over one of these nights"? "come on over
one of these nights"? what the fuck is that? i'm not trying to install your goddamn bootleg cable or play gin rummy asshole. or see your new fucking kitty cat. i'm trying to catch up on some of that quality time that i've lacked for the past 38 (and counting) days. the same quality time that YOU should have been missing too. "come on over one of these nights" is not a plan. it is some casual bullshit that suggests nonchalance. so as this anger started to bubble up on my insides, the rational side of me (the same one that reads about boys) wanted to know WHY i was so mad.

"why?" that bitch demanded. "why are you mad now? the boy contacted you when he arrived. it's not like he waited a day or two. he invited you to come over (in a general sense). he put an exclamation point at the end of his boy-talk. what the fuck do you want, snatch?"
truth be told, i wanted him to be eager and excited. i wanted him to excited to see me. i wanted him to be as eager to see me as he would be for a free sample of pussy-flavored lollipops. i wanted some goddmamn enthusiasm. i wanted it...and simultaneously knew i wouldn't get it and should never expect it. and maybe...maybe this is his version of enthusiasm. maybe...i told myself. and i was actually sort of willing to run with that idea...NINE HOURS AGO.

17 minutes after he sent his message, i responded with:
Oh, fiiiiiinally. Well, if you are inviting me then i guess you can let me know a day. As long as your brother wont mind.

NINE HOURS ago i said that. NINE HOURS AGO. and he has said what? nothing. now, looka-here. your ass ain't working. you JUST got back in town, so i know you ain't got a bunch of shit to do. you can only look at apartments during the daylight hours, so what THE FUCK are you doing? oh, oh, ohhhh. i get it. oh, you want to do that shit where you pretend that you're not that eager. oh, okay. i get it. OR BETTER YET, maybe you really aren't that interested. fine. either way, you can fuck yourself with that.

god, i sound so evil right now. and i'm sorry. i think it's because i've been watching all these women with claws and fangs fuck people up in my true blood marathon, and i'm experiencing a little life-imitating-art here. anyway, i'm just frustrated. i sort of feel foolish -- for being pissed that he hasn't made a plan but also for waiting all this time and wanting the reunion to be a gloriously anticipated, fantastically realized one for both of us. i wanted it to be more like the NKOTB reunion, not like the NEW EDITION reunion where bobby brown didn't even show up because he was in jail or on crack or just didn't give a shit. furthermore, i feel foolish because earlier this evening i was on all fours in front of this woman with my drawz off, getting hot wax spread down the crack of my ass and then SNATCHED off for the back-half of a brazilian. motherfucker, do you think i did that shit so i could sit on my baby smooth ass WAITING on you to get your shit together? NO! furthermore, the hair on my legs (also waxed) is going to start growing back any moment now, so you are my WASTING TIME AND MY MONEY!!!! fuck.

i know one thing. shit like this will NOT get you laid. so he can forget that. that is if we ever see each other. i'm guessing we will, but if he lets enough time go by, i'm going to be so pissed that i will undoubtedly have a stank attitude and say some shit that they boy books tell you you should never say and then he'll run the other way and the whole shit will be ruined.
i'm over this whole game bullshit. and if it's not a game, then he's just being dumb, and he should know that. i will say that i do feel better having gotten this all out...

IN CONCLUSION, this day that was supposed to be met with great joy and anticipation has actually stung...both emotionally and physically.

i am going to wash the wax remnants off my legs and ass, L.A.

but wait, there’s more

after my post yesterday, my friend and i went downtown to an alumni event for a very yuppie, east coast university we both attended. i was swimming in men wearing dockers and button-downs with Mai Tais in their hands. fortunately, i hadn’t banked on their being hot, eligible men there, but it was still disappointing nonetheless that there really weren’t any (save for one or two who could have been if i really needed them to be). i was in the midst of idle chatter with people i didn’t know when my phone rang. i looked at it, didn’t recognize the out-of-state number and figured it was (again) one of those crazy solicitors i get who call me from random states (to throw me off their scent, i suppose). so i answered and immediately hung up because i didn’t even want to bother having a voicemail from them.

but then…it hit me. missouri? wait. i know someone who is in missouri…could it be? did he just call me? maybe? holy shit. and i hung up on him! i excused myself and hurried outside where i would actually be able to hear. i redialed the number only to be greeted with a message from sprint about how they were “redirecting my call to customer service.” i hung up and tried again. again with the customer service shit. gotdamnit, sprint. i know there’s probably a bill due, and you want your money, but this shit is important. furthermore, i’m still on the family plan, so you need to direct your billing inquiries and scare tactics to my mom…that’s right, my mom.

i ran back inside, asked my friend for her phone and tried again, hoping that the jersey number that was about to appear on his caller id wouldn’t prevent him from answering. if it was in fact him…it totally just could have been the wrong number…
a woman answered. damn.

“hello?”
“hi. did someone just call me?”
“who is this?” (said in a tone that read, “skank, why are you calling my house? i will cut you.” personally, i hate when people call and ask “did someone just call me?”. obviously, if you don’t know the number and they didn’t leave a message, it was the wrong number or it wasn’t that important. however, in this situation, it WAS that important.)
i gave her my name in my most pleasant voice. after all, if this DID turn out to be his mother, i didn’t want to start out with her hating me. though, i had the feeling she already did. i checked the time and added two hours. it wasn’t THAT late. but maybe she goes to bed super early, i thought, and i just woke her up. i felt very high school and feared i was about to get in trouble. there was a dropping of the phone, some rustling, indecipherable speech, a clicking of lines…all the while, i’m just waiting for her to come back and declare, “hell no, nobody called you. and do you know what time it is, young lady?”

but that didn’t happen. instead, the boy appeared on the other end. like magic. and i was delighted. and we TALKED. i did do the right thing by mentioning that i was at an event downtown (you know the whole “sound busy” thing that everyone tells you to do), but then i stood on the sidewalk for the next half an hour and talked to him so clearly i wasn’t that damn busy. we talked about him, we talked about me, about fantasy football, and the weather, and food, and animals…

i can safely say, with no neuroses and no second guesses, that this conversation was normal. deliciously normal and fun, and i feel, truly feel, that everything might actually be okay. i know exactly when he’s returning, he mentioned seeing my new place and making dinner, blah blah…so everything really, really might be fine. and i might not have to be a spaz anymore (notice i inserted might into all these statements). but honestly, for the first time in a month, i feel like i can exhale and nothing is going to fall apart.

i am thankful for small miracles, L.A.

post-op

i swear it's not the jinx that's kept me away. there have been too many changes. too many uncertainties for me to put down on e-paper. it's hard to talk in the midst of a tornado...whether self-imposed or not. and it's not that i have a better grip on things now but perhaps by writing about it, i can stop being in my head so much. ...not likely, but it's worth a shot, yes?

so, i have a roommate now. a friend i've known for a few years. financially, it's a better situation, and i DO like the place we moved into significantly more than i have liked any other place i have lived in in this city. however, it is a bit strange to go from living alone for however many years to living with someone...well two someones (due to a long set of complicated circumstances, her boyfriend has been there for the past 3 weeks). so i feel a bit like the third wheel on a tricycle (unnecessary and somewhat out of place). you want to know what is NOT a cure for a lovelorn heart? living with a couple. no matter how lovely the people or how un-pda they may be, there's something...i don't know...awkward about it. but anyway, it is what it is for now, and it's only temporary, so that's all i will say about that.

(insert 12 minutes of picking at my cuticle and listening to tevin campbell's "i'm ready").

so...the guy. ugh. the idea of even trying to write about this makes me want to delete this whole thing. i don't know where that stands. next week, it will be a month that he's been gone. and next week he is scheduled to return. i will be glad when he does so that we can either pick up where we left off or i can go on about my business. i would certainly prefer it if it were the former, but there were a few times over these past weeks when i was certain it was the latter. for example, i sent him a text message AND a cute, funny email prior to his surgery (oh, did i mention that he went home to have a lil' surgery?), and you know what he said to my cute, funny email and well-wishing text? nothing. nada. nein. now, we had corresponded through text prior to that once or twice when he initially left (he doesn't really talk on the phone, which is fine as i'm learning that most guys don't. but that also leads me to wonder wtf guys did before text messaging. seriously? like how were people hooking up prior to the convenience of not actually having to talk to the person you wanted to do?). anyway the texting was rare but fine. a week passed. then came my attempt at wishing him a "happy surgery." then nothing. another week passed. in that time, i went from thinking that he was just really tired and needed to heal and would contact me when he could...to cursing his every breath when he found time to update his facebook status with phrases like "i like all things buxom" (which for those of you who've never seen me...is the f.u.r.t.h.e.s.t. thing from what i am). arg. so i blocked his facebook updates and prepared to "eternal sunshine of the spotless mind" his ass all out of my head. how rude, i thought. not even so much as a thank you? or a "i made it through. i'm alive."? common courtesy would dictate that you say something, right? so obviously, you not responding to me means that you're a dick.

well, what i didn't know (and i mean SERIOUSLY did not know because it didn't and still doesn't make sense to my brain) is that, on average, guys tend not to respond to communications that lack questions. now this is obviously a generalization and does not apply to everyone, but according to THREE women i know, this is indeed the case for a lot of men. so, i was advised, i should not take the silence personally but rather understand that this is merely a male behavioral thing and that if i want to actually hear from him, i better ask him something.

i told myself i wasn't going to ask him ANYTHING, but a few days later, after i finished a basket of honey's kettle chicken and fries (and some other shit happened), i decided that i needed answers. i needed to know how the fuck he was doing, when the fuck he was coming back and if he would in fact respond to my damn email. so i composed an email and loaded that bitch with questions. five to be exact. so he'd have no damn excuse.

it read:
are you in pain? do you have a hole in your belly that's covered with gauze? did they give you your gallbladder in a jar when you woke up? essentially, how are you feeling post-surgery? i hope you are much better. and when are you coming baaaaaack to lala???

his response was:
yes. yes. no. so-so. Soon.

which pissed me off to no end. i mean, really! i understand guys aren't verbal creatures, but wtf? one word answers? one word answers! i couldn't decide if a half-ass response was worse than no response at all. no response means "i'm dead" (rarely) or "i'm not interested" (usually). either way, it boils down to " leave me alone." a half-ass response means "i'm PROBABLY not interested, but i want to go to heaven one day, and i might not get there if ignore you, so i'm doing this purely for selfish, posthumous reasons." well, i thought, at least i know where i stand...i guess. but man, what a dick move. again, i was cuing up the "eternal sunshine" shit when, 8 minutes after the first email, i received a longer, better email...with words and shit.

this one read:
Surgery went fine, but when they do laproscopic surgery, they inflate your stomach with lots of air, so they can see around inside the belly area. In my case, they used a bit too much air pressure (which is necessary when someone has so very much muscle like myself) and the air ended up over-stretching my diaphragm to the point of tearing some muscle in my shoulder. This caused about a week of very very intense pain in the shoulder, and inability to sleep the first 3 nights (which is worse than pain). I was on so many painkillers my brain was soup for a week. The shoulder pain is mostly gone, my stomach barely hurts, and I'm finally off painkillers. I need to see my Dr. on Monday for my follow-up so he can clear me to travel. After that, I'll either come back to LA on the 23rd, or wait a few extra days so I can see my cousins' band play a big show on the 25th. How have you been? What's new?

oh shit. elaboration! and wait, what's that? are those questions for me at the end!?!? snap. jackpot. of course, my high was tempered by the first email. i mean, why couldn't we just do this (the second one) the first time? or combine the two? why put me through the agony (that you had no idea i would go through) with the one word answers? whatever. i got an email. with words. and questions. and i was satisfied. furthermore, i responded to his email AND got a response back. it was a communication orgy!

i will try not to analyze these emails. actually, i have already analyzed them; i will just spare you the agony of going through my analyses with me. suffice it to say that i have concluded that they sound "normal" and all indicators point to a "resumption of previous activity upon return". this, of course, could be totally wrong. maybe it is. maybe it isn't. maybe it is. maybe it isn't. round and round. this is why i just want him to come back so i can know...one way or another.

am i being crazy. (yes. i heard some yesses in the background). but you can totally stop liking someone in a month. or have a change of heart. hell, you can do it a lot faster than that. good lord, i'm paranoid. i just need to relax and wait. what's another week?