Welcome home

I've been in Jersey less than 48 hours and my mom has poison ivy (confluent on her arms) and my dad has had one panic attack. A. saw her first deer and her eyes grew huge. My dad wouldn't "allow" me to walk her in the neighborhood alone at night and we had words. Plus, A. was a ball of anxiety the entire flight from PDX here. That is putting it mildly. She also got into a terrible dog fight at her own going away party at Tabor, which included a visit to Dove Lewis.

Welcome home.

I also suffered a mild wave of panic while walking down the block - what had I done? What was my plan? I spied the corner where there used to be a huge, magnificent tree, of course chopped down, what had I done? We loved our neighborhood and our routine. But somehow I knew that nothing would ever changed if I stayed there. Things might not become "bad" but they'd not become joyous either.

Back here, this is the neighborhood I grew up in, the house i lived in since 3. On a walk with A. my dad pointed out the houses where people had yelled at him about our old family dog. They didn't want him walked near their lawns. Why? I don't get it. My mom pointed out a different neighbor, right next door, she told me they don't say hello and neither does she or the husband. Does this mean I'm supposed to act like I don't see them too? Are my own parents haters?

In Portland we knew almost all our neighbors and they knew us. I may not have been inside most of their houses but everyone was chatty, friendly, smiley, pleasant. Our last couple of days were spent in a neighbor's house while she was at the coast - she offered her place to A. and I. The adorable neighbor children came by to say goodbye to me, but mostly A. It was a very sweet day and one child even burst into tears.

A bit different here on the East Coast.

Thank god for my cyberfiance in LA. Every girl should have one. We have yet to meet but already I'm wondering about how I might get back there. To live? To visit? To...I don't know what. I made the mistake of telling my parents about him and they are convinced he doesn't have a job. Don't worry, I instructed them on how they should react in the future. I told my mom:

Be enthusiastic. Be supportive. Then, stop speaking.

Since then she's played the part. God help her for taking instruction well. MLAM/Some Guy does have a job, fyi but the hours are flexible. We talked on the phone for 8 hours yesterday. That's EIGHT. Not one, not two. But four plus four, four times two, seven plus one. That's crazy. That's ridiculous. That's effed up. That's awesome.

I thrill myself. And how do I spend my days? Perusing jetblue's website.

Edits

If you don't have anything nice to say, sit next to me.

It saddens me that I cannot take credit for this fabulous, accurate line. It belongs to K. But here are some others: Don't tweak, Zeke. Find another floozy, Flossie. Pathetic. Okay, on 4 hours sleep that's the best I can do. Things have moved up a notch with Mystery LA Man, or MLAM. We've moved from dating site email to personal email onto phones. Next move? Engagement.

Wait. He did already propose over email - romantic or what? I love a message that begins Dear Cyber Fiance. But I must correct a mistake. Apparently, I wrote on my blog that he confessed his love. And people, I really believed that, but after a lovely phone conversation whereby MLAM said that he suggested that it might be possible that he could potentially fall in love with a person without meeting per se - or something like that - I must make it clear:

Nobody. I repeat, nobody. Nobody is in love with me. Zero. Zilch. Nadda. Nothing. Whole lots of nothing. Well sometimes I'm a little in love with myself but does that count? My dog?

I enjoy MLAM. He will be my cyberfiance as well. It's done. My mom can brag to all her Jewish friends whose children are married to wealthy men and who have popped out dozens of brilliant grandchildren, that her own daughter is engaged! A cyberfiance.

But really, I don't want to go into great detail here because I want to respect his privacy (read: he has peeked at the blog) but so far he is in the lead. Not only because he made me laugh so hard I cried, but I stayed up late. I stayed up until 1:30. Friends may not believe this but it's true. That's ONE and that's THIRTY.

Eat my dust.

Popularity

Do you ever notice when you go to leave a bar or a party that a guy tries to talk to you? That there is something inherently attractive about a person leaving? Human nature does this to us and it's not fair.

I ran into Flossie yesterday at a local schoolyard. He had his dog, I had mine and my friend K. A. r(my dog) refuses to make eye contact with his dog. Flossie had invited me to a film, yes film not movie, this Sunday. I told him about my lack of internet but c'est la vie.

No word from Zeke, maybe he's fixing his wife pancakes? CREEPy.

Brunch plans with a dating site suitor from NYC who is very into dogs. 1 point for him!

My LA suitor has professed his love to me. Never mind that we haven't met. Perhaps a touch soon, but I remain flattered.

I have a mover scheduled for next Saturday, another coming over today, who is probably more reliable plus I just looked up a place locally where they'll pick up your stuff and yo u can donate it to families with less money. If they can pick it up by Saturday or even Sunday morning, I'm going with them. All this is to say, I think I've made something very complicated out of a process that could be quite simple.

Hmmmm....An aha momet. Better than a Fried Green Tomato Moment (huh, Y?). I've got a few years before I get to have those. Apparently my mom has been having them quite a bit. Was that a scene in FGT, where Kathie Bates rams her car into someone else's in the parking lot? I love it! I must netflix it! All i remember is a Man-Stew.

On that note, time to eat a leftover bagel. I've got about 9 due to a lack of enthusiasm of friends attending my little sale. I won't take it personally, well I did, but I'm moving on. Thank you L., N., Uncle KayKay, N. and M. All oddly close in the alphabet. Also, I got to learn that M., a former colleague where I did volunteer work, is adopting a baby. I gave her my curtains and a soft blanky.

I've done my mitzvah for the year.

upDATES

Zeke and I have an hour long phone chat (Tuesday), future plans are discussed but no concrete plans. I hear ya, K., he's married, but maybe he's just busy and has a job where he travels a lot? Maybe? Per chance?
email from Flossie (Tuesday), movie date invite is mentioned
younger man from dating site lft vm msg - I must stop dates before leaving PDX...on the other hand, nice to hear from a former NYer, we share the same area code. Go 917!
continue email flirtation with LA suitor (a mystery)
no word from X (living with gf)

1 brief but lovely phone talk with K. in Chicago
2 xs Mother rushes me off the phone mid-week, she's heard enough about dating & moving and moving and dating and moving, moving, moving, dating!
A 2nd visit to Departures scheduled for Saturday
1 lunch with gay boyfriend from high school and his bf here from DC today at Lovejoy Bakers
2 phone conversations with car shippers
3 visits to the pet store for boxes
2 freddy visits this week, 1 TJ's
1 bottle oh Lemmelsohn's pinot almost polished off (thank you, B. & Y.) and really thank you, R.
1 overnight guest from Bremerton (M., fun!), 1 visit to Sapphire
4 middle of the night visits to the yard because A. had the runs (not fun)

Enough. The send-offs continue. House/garage sale but I have no garage on Saturday, replete with bagels and coffee. I'm feeling the love.

Meow

Recent conversation with my dad:

Dad: This couple we know keeps wanting to fix you up with their son. He's 49. Never married. Lives on Park Avenue. House in the Hamptons.

Me: 49? Never married? He's gay. And he's too old for me.

Dad: That's what I said. Hey? Why don't you get yourself one of those nice 30 year old medical residents? Be one of those cougars. You could be a nice cougar!

Me: I'm too young to be a cougar. I'm 35.

Need I explain more?

I Never Said That

At a party for S., who is moving to Dublin with her BF for 4-5 months and who I will miss like an appendage, a woman introduced her boyfriend in this way: "He's a douchbag accountant."

And I thought I was mean?

Now, back to me. Me! Me! Me!
Received a text from Zeke while at the gym today, asking how my weekend was. This only proves my point, which is both gratifying and infuriating: the minute you stop obsessing about a person, they contact you. It defies the rules of science. It just is. It's like when I was having boy trouble years ago in NYC and my old therapist suggested I light a candle, in an effort to change the energy. LIGHT A CANDLE? That's the best she could do? I wanted to toss my arms around her and strangle her, squeeze the life from her right there. But what did I do? I went home and lit a candle. And you know what? Nothing happened.

My point? I don't have one. Except, I hope Zeke is not a Married Freak. I hope he is nice and normal-ish and can supply some well needed romance and fun in my last few weeks here. And I also hope he doesn't take note of the boxes of books and clothes in my house.

And should we skip off into the sunset, I never said that part about him being married maybe or any of the earlier entries.

Squeak!

AttentionDeficitDatingDisorder

Dates Disappear

Is it me? Or is my enthusiasm short lived? After a second date with Flossie where we split the bill, he didn’t walk me to my car in the dark after a scary movie (Girl with the Dragon Tatoo), and I had trouble understanding his words because he mumbles and has a thick accent – it was so thick I thought he was hard of hearing, but no. I’m thinking he gets no third date. Not that he’s called. Not that he’s texted. Not that he’s asked.

On Saturday morning over brunch on the terrace of Manzana in Lake Oswego with two former friends and colleagues, I described my dilemma. One friend, who I will really miss, ever insightful, M., asked me an outlandish question: well, what are you looking for? You are moving.

True dat. And while this question may sound obvious and even fair, it struck me as crazy and poignant. What am I looking for? Am I supposed to know? M. and I decided that there could be two categories and there are not often transferable: romance/excitement and marriage/partnership. But wasn't one supposed to lead to the other? I argued this point with her, while understanding the rub. Often the men who are exciting are egocentric, jerks, idiots, louses, or dumb and then there are the socially inept ones who make me feel sad, and somewhere out there are some gems in the rough, some men who are just lovely, perhaps not urban legend after all, those overlooked fellows.

Still, M. may be as right as the sky is blue, but in my heart the idea of settling doesn’t thrill me. What are those women’s lives like? The ones who marry for security, who don’t feel the juju? Are those the women I see with streaks of gray in their hair, baby slings smooshing their breasts, waiting in line at Albina Press? Milk stains on their tunic? They have the guy and the kid but they don't look very happy. Mostly, they look tired.

Perhaps. But I still can’t concede that settling leads to anything but boredom, sex on Sunday mornings only, and long games of Scrabble. Wait a minute: it’s not sounding half bad now that I write it. But I will always long for sharp conversation, verbal sparring, a dry wit. And see, look how far it has gotten me.

Later that same day, my friend, D. invited me to a Yelp event at Departures, on the rooftop of The Nines Hotel. Free wine, cocktails and free food, fried chicken on sticks, beef onion skewers, watermelon, cherry, basil thingies. The theme was nautical. In the elevator I immediately befriended a Gaysian (I love this word, K.) and up on the roof D. and I chatted mostly with each other.

And of course another day goes by that I don’t hear from Zeke (consider re-naming him Freak out of sheer disappointment/rage), the too smart, too cute, possibly married man from Pendleton who must be curling himself into a blankey as I write this. While at Lovejoy Bakers Sunday morning A. and I googled him on her Blackberry and I nearly lost my vision looking at the screen but was grateful to find out not too much information about him. However, I am up front with myself about this: I may not be the best judge of character. And in my defense, it takes time to peel away the layers of getting to know someone. I can be too trusting. I don’t go out on dates and try to search out the lies. And yet, three separate women suggested Zeke may be married. I put that in the pathetic category, by the way. If you’re going to have an affair, stumble into a bar like a normal person, don’t put all your junk on display on-line. Advertising on-line for an affair? You look like a tard.

A short anecdote:

Guy looks at me on a dating site and his photo is familiar, says he lives in Brooklyn. I write to him, we figure out he friended me on myspace a million years ago. I recall that he lives in Kansas so I ask him when he moved. Oh, he writes, I haven’t moved. I still live in Kansas, but I travel to Brooklyn about once a month or so and by the way, my profile says I’m 38 not 44. When I told my mother this story, I tried to be rational, hey, what’s the difference, 38? 44?

Her response? 6 years.