Can You Smell That Love You're Stepping In?

(this is from an email sent to a friend this week- but I thought it offered a little insight into my new life as a single gal)

So I am sure you knew this was inevitable, Mr. Wonderful never called.
I did however receive an awkward text message in which he explained that he was going to try to work things out with his stripper girlfriend (?!?) and that he was embarassed to admit that he lived at home (as in "the parental home"), did not in fact own a bar, but was instead a bartender and had no aspirations beyond this vocation. Fabulous.
I love that, in the end he did however suggest that we, "just be friends".
As if.
I explained, via text, of course, cause he is a possibly married man... that in his world of light beer and greasy, battered and deep fried cuisine, a girl who prefers a night of beaujolais and creme brule would not even want to pop in to use the head.
Also, I noted that I wasn't aware blatant deception was a building block of a lasting friendship- but after that I felt I had said enough and drowned my sorrows in teeth bleaching strips and a brief bout of bulemia.
You always ruin the first pancake on the griddle, as they say.
It wasn't a total waste of my flirtatious charms- it got me back in the saddle. Albeit with a bartender who lives with his mother and stripper girlfriend... but he was cute at the very, very, very, very least.
What an asshole.
I know that I am so much better off alone at this point, but the attention/affection was nice, you know? (and of course you do.)
Meaningless sex is just not my thing, as unplanned pregnancies sort of reveal the insidious man behind the curtain. As long as I can breed, sex must at least be with someone of some significance. It isn't so much that I am a prude, but I have spent the last 13 years paying the price for a fling. Tends to suck the fun out of such things. Although, the offers have been pouring in... should I be insulted?

I keep telling myself that things will look up and get better, and I feel that they will.

The funny thing for me, anyway- is that marriage has taught me that I want to re-marry. I didn't know if I wanted to get married before, but now I have changed and there are things that I just want to build with someone... I want to be fabulously glamourous, but I want to do this with a partner by my side. I am great alone, I do fine by myself, but oh there is something to be said for having someone beside you to poke fun at all the party-goers.

I have been chanelling Dorothy Parker of late. I have begun to think that I am her reincarnation, although taller and more busty. I sat up writing little poems about my bullshit experience with love and other nonesense. I don't want to end up like she did. Bitter, alone and soaking in sidecars.

I am hopeful, I am frightened, but I will be just fine.
I will print that out and staple it to my breast.

Obsessions of the Week- Part One

In an effort to manufacture inspiration- I have decided to dedicate a blog a week to the themes and products I am mulling over this week. They range from minor flirtations and thoughtful musings to all-out consuming desire- and I will try to include photographic examples whenever possible.
So here goes attempt number one- hope it isn't too self-serving or shallow.

Jewelry-I am currently in love with Balinese charm broaches. I have a thing for charms- hanging from my wrists, dangling from a necklace- as a Cancer I am prone to sentimentality- so little momentos from travels, real or imagined are so comforting to me.
The quirky notion of charms on a broach- I just eat it up. I will take a photo and add it later.

Shoes-Loeffler Randall shoes. Flat out amazing.

Clothing- Fabulous, multi-striped Stella Cadente Balloon dress. I found this dress in a size two, and I will unfortunately be forced to sell it to some anorexic fashionista on ebay. It is the perfect cut, strapless, corset fit through the waist, with a full, calf-length balloon skirt- in a gorgeous textured silk vertical stripe print in bright, jewel-toned colors. Why do I have to be so damned voluptuous?

Music- I just haven't been seeking out new music. I love the new Zero 7 album, but that is so typical. So please let me know anything new and wonderful you can recommend to an old hag like me.

Epiphanies- Ijust realized this week that I have become Madame Bovary. Those of you who know me, who know this book- will understand my anguish. I will devote a blog to this in the future.

About turning 31- Big Whoop. I am going to the gym regularly. I have a semi-social life, but I need a classier horde of friends. I would like to flirt a bit more. Los Angeles is a terrible, depressing place for a gal over 30- of reasonable intelligence. You become invisible. Unless you succumb to plastic surgery, bleach your hair and wear little more than stockings out in public- no one here finds you interesting. I need a little validation- I am not asking for much, but a little wink at the grocery store now and then is nice. Acknowledge me. I hate to base my self worth on the opinions of others... but sometimes it is vital to a gal's ego.
I hate Los Angeles- and Orange County is far worse.

On my dream man- I have been having dreams about a mysterious gentleman. We meet in San Francisco, he is smart, passionate, insightful and creative. He understands my mood swings, compulsive shopping and frequent swearing. It is very inspiring and lovely and we end up moving to Morocco together.
I know that I am a semi-married woman, but I really need a crush. A harmless, removed sense of infatuation. Maybe it is this oppressive heat wave, perhaps it is the proximity to my "sexual peak," I don't know, I can't explain it- but I need someone to daydream about.
sigh.
Which leads me to:

Drunk dialing- I have been known to get over relationships in an UPS express/overnight kind of way. Over the last few years, when I have been particularly low, I have been known to pick up the phone, rack my brain for a number and dial... So when I add the component of alcohol- all hell breaks loose. Lucky for him, I couldn't for the life of me recall the number. What would it have served me to get abruptly hung up on? I don't know. Still, I feel compelled to be rejected or something... just makes me feel a little more alive.

Being Dead Inside- I have so much going on inside this head of mine that it all cancels the other out and I am left feeling kin to corpsehood. However, something has begun to stir inside me. A restlessness and new curiosity.
Right now, I need some tea and a little reading before I sleep.

Peace out-

My Husband is in Texas- Week Two

The birthday is coming.
Not a significant birthday in a greeting card sense, but significant in its power to deflate me.

Since my last blog, I really don't have anything too eventful to report.
Everything has been incredibly tedious.

My days have been occupied by the following:
-Really boring errands
-Terrible movies
-Typical money stress and depression
-Trying (in vain) to conjure momentum for doing anything else aside from sitting on the couch and melting in the awful June gloom
-Fretting about domestic policy (my own)
-Obsessing over potential outfits for the Radiohead show on Friday.
-Playing with strands of my hair

I am procrastinating- I really must work-
So I will do this and bid you all goodnight- until at least tomorrow.

-Ciao Bitches.

My Husband is in Texas- Week One Point Five

Why is it that I am always up writing this thing at past two in the morning?

I had some thoughts today about what I've discovered as a semi-single gal.
- First, I learned that true to my earlier speculation- the kitchen IS cleaner now that he is not leaving his forty million plates in the sink. He would argue with me, tirelessly- that this notion was a figment of my imagination- that I was his dish-whore equal- but- here I sit, with a sparkling kitchen with nary a soiled plate in sight.
- Second, I am understanding the power of positive thinking. I was so discouraged and depressed for the duration of the time I knew he was leaving. It was as if I was held in suspended animation- I was unable to peel myself off of the couch, rarely pulled a comb through the tangled mess on my head, ate a strict diet of my fall-back comfort food, snapped at every customer service person who had the misfortune of calling my home... I was on a temp to perm PMS.
However, here I am, actually answering my emails! I am not avoiding my work! I left the house nearly every day this week! I checked my phone messages and opened each letter in the mail- I even started working around the house again, I washed the floors and rearranged my furniture - and it is just a matter of time before I regain the desire to wash my hair.

My birthday is next week and I have made peace with the idea that it will pass with a whimper.
At the beginning of the year, I believed that I would be spending the day strolling the streets of Barcelona- but that ship has sailed and I am waving a monogrammed hankie from the shore.
There is always next year, right?

I feel terrible thinking this, let alone typing it out for whomever to read, but without my husband around, I feel less distracted and more together.

My need to be with him, to talk to him, it will kick in at some point, right? It really just feels exactly the same, except now I have more clarity.

The thing is, I don't really want to be with anyone. I can't fathom the idea of dating, it was bad enough out there the last time- and I have only grown older, less perky and full of new thirty-something neurotic quirks. People just don't interest me the way that they used to.

My son turned twelve on Monday. I hate to mention him in this forum, in this post, but that child is nine volt battery that keeps my heart pumping. He is the one noun ( or pronoun) in this world that I love without question or reservation. I see so much of myself echoed in the pattern of his thoughts, the same anxieties, the same depth of passion, etc. When he is not here, the wind is sucked from my sails and my home is so quiet and lonely.

Having children young, or perhaps being a young, single, unwed mother- I find that it is really hard to be married, now. Perhaps it is just me, but anyone else who enters my life, is a distant second. My husband has never interfered in our relationship, in fact he is very loving and supportive of my son, but having this unencumbered time with him, alone- it makes me question the importance of my husband in our lives.

So much to think about, but now I need sleep.
xxoo-
D

My Husband is in Texas - Week One

Hello to whomever actually reads my blog.

I have decided that I will be chronicling my year of singledom.
Allow me to give a little backstory to fill in any gaps that the casual reader might run into-

Backstory:
I am married to a "doctor"

I put "doctor" in quotes to emphasize that my husband is a graduate of medical school, has passed the American medical boards and is now embarking on a (for this moment) year long residency program in Witchita Falls, TX.

I also use the quotations to illustrate my uncertainty with his choice of vocation, as the last operation he presided over had something to do with a plugged in appliance that serves to brown bread, two forks and a smoking outlet.

I live in California and will not be spending a year abroad- although I don't know if abroad and Witchita Falls, Texas belong in the same sentence- unless the sentences are, "I was in a bar in Witchita Falls, Texas, and abroad walked in with eyeshadow as blue as a Tahitian wave." or "One thing I can say about Witchita Falls, Texas- they sure do have abroad definition of what passes for culture".
You get the point I'm sure.

Although, if you don't- you might be from Witchita Falls.

Contrary to my wifely duties, I won't be going.
Instead, I will be left here to live my life as a semi-single woman.
Go ahead and place your bets, now.

My husband left last Monday- and it has been an emotional week.
Not so much that I am feeling hopeless without my husband, but the fallout of his departure is hitting me fast. Words keep repeating themselves in my brain- paycut, debtor's prison, I just had to pick this year to start my business, he just had to pick this year to actual get accepted to a residency, fidelity, security, insanity, freedom....

So I offer whomever is reading this, to join me on my year-long journey.

A sort of spiritual quest- where I will answer the burning questions:
Can I really make it on my own?
Will I have to go back to my life as a soulsucking corporate shill?
How much do I really love my husband?
How much do I really want to stay married?

I promise it to be mildly entertaining and somewhat enlightening.

Open Letter to Someone I Lost

Dear Someone,


Let me just get to the point of this letter, because it is late and my brain seems to function in random spurts, as you are aware... Actually, there are a few points... So I will try to get through them as quickly as possible.

I try not to romanticize what occurred between us, at this point I have no idea who you are anymore and vice versa. However, I find myself comparing you and our experiences against the current happenings in my life at an embarrassing volume.

There are days when I feel as though you never existed, that somehow you were a figment of my imagination- a compilation of the best pieces from lesser romances... Clothed in pumas and Broadcast tour shirts.

When the thoughts become unrealistic, I am forced to conduct a little soul searching- I try to see what it is that keeps you bound to my memory. It isn't you, per se... But the brief glimpse of what my life could be like. What kind of person I could be if I were happy.

Truth be told, it isn't about you at all.

We were driving in your car, going to your house. I was sleepy and we were listening to This American Life on the radio. You had your eyes on the road ahead, I was looking at the homes beginning to light up along the side of the freeway. In front of us, the setting sun appeared so low it was as though we were driving into it. The radio provided the only voice in the car and I didn't need to fill the silence with idle chatter.

Arriving at your apartment, we went inside and you turned the radio on in the room, and we slept side by side on your bed. There was no hand holding, or leg tangling, no physical contact at all, but I felt content and relaxed just knowing you were there.

For the first time in many, many years, I was happy.

I guess there is something to be said for the value the individual places on memories- as I am sure that this little scene I painted above is something you wouldn't possibly recall. Nothing dramatic or unusual occurred from the outside- but it has been dogearred in my brain.

The spurt has ended and I am exhausted.

xxoo-
Darcie

Real Men Wear Leather Kilts

Okay, so here is how it all went down.

I went to go see the Charlatans UK (don't get the wrong idea here, it was free) last night at the ridiculous House of Blues that resides within the confines of the self-proclaimed, "Happiest Place on Earth."

A note about the show: The Charlatans UK are one of those early britpop bands that predated Oasis, but are basically a more attractive version... They were the britpop band with a keyboard. I think I had their first two albums, but then I discovered bigger and better things.
The show was a veritable time warp, with the dated music, the fist-pumping male energy of those terrible shows from the 90's that were sponsored by KROQ and inevitably featured some sort of beachball toss in the audience. At one point I thought I would wake up the next morning restored to my former 1992 hot pink bob, monkey boots and a nosering glory. It was all really, sadly mediocre. But the boys in the band gave it a good college rock try.

If any of you fine people have had the extreme misfortune of attending a show at the Disney HOB, you can possibly relate to my quandary... However, I did see a flyer for a (gasp!) Nina Hagen show later this month... So I may just have to swallow hard and brave the docker-clad rockers once again... (because nothing says, "washed out post-punk luminary" quite like Nina Hagen at Disneyland.)

Anyways.... Downtown Disney is always an inspiring place for people watching. You can play my very favorite bored games of, "Pretend to be a really clueless Eurotrash tourist," or, "Spot the Canadian." Endless hours of mindless enjoyment to be had at other people's expense.

So here we are, the show has let out, the House of Blues Karaoke lounge is an intimidating mix of America Idol rejects and actual Disney park employees (which is the worst thing I can imagine in a Karaoke bar), so we are retreating to the parking lot, when I see him...

Long, stringy mane that looks not unlike clumpy angel hair pasta, Ubiquitous trucker cap, faded, two-sizes too large "Pantera" concert T-shirt, tucked into a (are you ready?) Leather kilt. The black socks, the white track shoes... It was Paxil Rose, my friends.

He was the best thing I have seen in years.. and so disarming that I was unable to pry my gaze from his visage to fully evaluate his female companion... in fact I have no recollection... and you all know, those who know me, what a rarity this is... as I tend to want to get a good look at any gal who would hook up with such a person... but he was just that amazing.

I didn't know what to do... I wanted to follow him to his car, I wanted to follow him home... I just couldn't help but get a bit sucked into his desperate, leather kilt wearing world....

My friends had abandoned me at this point... so I had to scream out to them, "Where do we go???? Where do we go now??? OHHHHH, Where do we go???"

I am sure he gets it all the time... but in this case, it was said with love.

Peace out- bitches.

Darcie