On Paper

I've had a pretty miserable day.

I didn't sleep well last night because I'm obsessing about online dating. I keep thinking about my profile and how I should change it-- take away some things, add some others. I think about something I wrote and suddenly I'm completely embarrassed by it, like noticing a booger on your cheek during a date. I'm constantly struggling to present the perfect mix of sincere and goofy, fun and serious, happy and thoughtful, hot and horny. (Thanks for the advice, Sarah!) There are so many sides to me, how do I show them all in 1,500 words?

I'm also obsessing about all the different women I've seen. Images of profile pics flash through my head like a row of dancing chorus girls. But I'm mostly thinking about the one lady I've made contact with. (She'll need a nickname if this continues.) I keep imagining all the scenarios of us dating, getting together, sharing a life. I haven't even met her yet and I'm already thinking about A Relationship. And it scares the shit out of me.

Huh? Haven't I been whining nonstop since K dumped me that I just want a relationship? That my life is incomplete without one? So why am I so afraid to get into one now? Because, as much as I know this is my life's goal, I also know that it has to be the right person. I don't want to settle. Like baking a cake, all the ingredients have to be there in the right amount, and timing is everything. It feels like right now the stakes are higher than ever, probably because I'm older than I've ever been. I don't know how many more chances at love I'll get.

*****

Some commenters focused on a sentence from my previous post that I'd like to respond to. I was talking about the profiles of the women on Match, and I said,

On paper they're no K, or SnarkEx or even AG.

Everyone agrees that it's a bad idea to compare. It reminds me of something a friend of mine told me many years ago, after I complained to him that "on paper" someone had been perfect for me. He said, "You need to throw that paper away."

So, yes, I've heard this before. Here's the thing. I'm not going to stop comparing relationships. It's what I do. I'm an academic: analyzing, comparing and contrasting is woven into my being. Since my first girlfriend and I broke up, I've always compared the next one to the last one(s). It's usually a favorable comparison, because each new relationship offers new and exciting things I hadn't experienced before. If thinking about my past relationships means I'm not ready to date, then I've never been ready to date.

Perhaps I've mentioned this before, but K seriously raised the bar. It's hard for me to imagine that I'll ever find someone as awesome as her. Does that mean I don't deserve to love again? To at least try? And just because I can't imagine it, that doesn't mean it can't happen. I never imagined I could get K, and I did. Sometimes life surprises me.

Let me put my above statement in context. On paper K and I fit together better than anyone I've ever been with. When I first saw SnarkEx's online profile seven years ago, we matched so well I was beside myself with excitement. My first nickname for AG was TGTBT, Too Good To Be True, because it seemed like her profile had been written just for me. On paper all these women did it for me. We know what happened in real life: AG wasn't too good to be true, she just wasn't right for me. SnarkEx left me. And K remains, on paper, in my heart, in my loins, the one that got away.

None of the profiles I viewed this weekend gave me the same initial feeling of destiny I had with the others. That doesn't mean none of these women could turn out to be the next love of my life. (Or that they can't be the one to get me over K.) It just means the initial on paper excitement isn't there. I don't know why. Maybe because K raised the bar too high. Maybe because I'm still heartbroken. Maybe I'm not ready to date yet. Maybe none of these women are right for me. Time will tell.

*****

So I was exhausted this morning from the lack of sleep. Then I had to hit the ground running at work this morning. I'm still feeling overwhelmed lately with tasks, both at home and at work. I spent three hours at our satellite campus today, giving two classes a library presentation. The campus is a half hour drive away, and while I was there I developed a headache. I couldn't take anything for it because all my painkillers were back at my desk at the main campus. So by the time I drove back to my desk, half an hour through an ice storm, the headache was so bad I was nauseous and dizzy. I took my painkillers but they did nothing. I felt awful and couldn't concentrate. I left work an hour early, only to drive another hour through the ice storm, my head pounding and my stomach churning.

When I got home I immediately took a nap, which was sorely needed, and felt much better after I woke up.

Everyone's talking about a snow day tomorrow, and I sure could use one. But I'm not holding my breath, because every time people talk about it, it never happens. We've gotten tons of snow this year, but never at the right time for them to cancel class.

So, in case I have to drive through an ice storm to get to work tomorrow, I'm gonna go check my Match account now.

Match-eration

It's official: I'm on Match.com.

I found myself with some leisure time yesterday afternoon, and although I had a lot of projects to work on, I made the mistake of clicking on the Dating link on Yahoo. In the 1.5 years since I've online dated, I guess Yahoo! Personals has merged with Match, because that's where they took me.

Of course, they wouldn't let me view any of the ladies' profiles until I created one of my own, so I spent a frustrating hour or so just throwing shit up there so they would let me in. I had a really hard time coming up with a handle and a headline and a description of myself, because I wasn't prepared to be creative yet, I just wanted to browse some profiles. I threw up a placeholder that said, "I'm not ready to write this yet but Match is forcing me to so I can view profiles. Minimum 200 characters. Minimum 200 characters. Minimum 200 characters. Minimum 200 characters." Once I was able to lurk on the site, I found enough ads to make it worth my while, so then I went back and updated my profile.

At first I was stymied as to what to write, but then this here blog came to the rescue. I remembered a post I wrote about my talents and used that as the basis for my personal description. (Abridged and edited, of course.) I've spent entirely too much time editing and re-writing my profile over the past two days. I haven't even made contact with a woman yet, and online dating is already taking up too much of my time.

So, what have I found? There's about five local profiles that I "favorited", but none of them jump out as the love of my life. On paper they're no K, or SnarkEx or even AG. So I expanded my search geographically to include a few big cities within a three-hour drive. That search was much more promising. I added about 10 more profiles to my Favorites. The ad that appealed to me the most is-- surprise!-- a 28-year-old grad student from a college town about 2.5 hours away from Snarktown. There's also a 31-year-old "Jew-rican" (her word) from Big City, and a 40-year-old therapist from Other Big City. So I'm kinda all over the place. It is kind of exciting to look through profiles and collect them in my Favorites, like putting good-looking treats in your shopping cart. "Oh, she's really cute, and she said something clever! In the Favorites you go!"

To be honest, a long distance relationship about 2-3 hours away really appeals to me. It would be nice to date someone who's not in my town, so I could maintain my independence and it would force us to go slow, but also not 700 miles away like K was. For me, finding the right person is way more important than having them be in my town.

Probably the best prospect from Snarktown is a 44-year-old divorced mother. Her profile doesn't excite me as much as some of the out of town ones, and I worry that she might turn into another AG: someone I would date for four months, then breakup with because it just doesn't feel right, which would then inspire me to just be single for a while. If it's not me getting rejected, it's me doing the rejecting. Why is it so hard for two people to ever want the same thing?

I'm getting way ahead of myself, but this is why I suck at dating. I can't just get to know someone as a human being, I have to think way into the future to figure out if I want to be locked in with them for the rest of my life. And then there's the issue of whether I should approach all these women one at a time, or multiple ones at the same time. That could exhaust me. I'm not a multitasker.

This is all moot. Ninety percent of the women I've "favorited" probably aren't even interested in me.

*****

So this afternoon I got my first "wink." It was the local 44-year-old divorced mother. So maybe the initial interest is mutual. I guess I should send her a message. I described her to a friend, and we figured out that he knows her-- they work out together. Huh. Small world. Or small Snarktown, anyway.

Meanwhile, my busy pace has continued. I've gone out four nights in a row. I've been horribly neglectful of my two writing projects (one long-term and one short-term), which bothers me. My TiVo shows have been piling up. And here I am starting online dating, which takes as much energy as applying for a job.

I haven't even subscribed to the site yet so that I can send messages. That's something I'll do. Just as soon as I finish blogging about it.

Possible Singles Dates

I got an email last week with the subject heading, "Possible Singles Dates." You'll never guess what it was about.

It was a call for people interested in a tennis league, and the possible dates they could play singles (as opposed to doubles.)

I'm not interested in this particular league, so instead the email mocked me with possibilities, singles and dates-- three words that are on my mind a lot lately.

*****

I'm still reluctant to venture into any of the online dating sites yet. For one thing, I've just been super busy and exhausted. Today is the first day all week I don't have any class visits-- the most stressful and important part of my job-- so it's nice to relax a little. But now I'm faced with all the other stuff that's been piling up on my desk all week.

I haven't visited many of my favorite websites in forever. I'm way behind on The Onion and Dealbreaker and the Oatmeal, and my advice columns, Savage Love and Dear Prudence. And LOLcats? Fuggedaboutit! I haven't canhazcheeseburgered in months.

Part of the issue is that my blogging community is growing. Which is great. For the first two years of this blog I hardly had any blogfriends, but in the past few months I've added more and more blogs to my daily reading. I now have 14 blogs on my blogroll. I love having this sense of community-- following the lives of a diverse group of people from around the world, and having people follow mine-- but it's eating up more and more of my work and free time. I love my bloglife, but I want to have a real life too. Not sure how to reconcile that.

(Blogfriends: Even if I don't respond, I do appreciate every comment I get, and I do read all of your own blog posts, even if I'm not always inspired to post a comment. And I know from Blogger's stats that lots of people are reading this, even if you don't comment. Welcome, lurkers!)

*****

It feels a little odd to be without any dating prospects whatsoever. It's one thing to be single again, but it's a whole different level of singleness to not even have someone I'm thinking about or scheming on.

But I'm still plugging away, making plans and keeping my eyes open. I will try the online thing, eventually, when I get bored and desperate enough. Hey, February is just around the corner, and nothing inspires boredom and desperation like the last full month of winter.

I'm wrestling with some social opportunities this week. Tonight is an event sponsored by the Co-Op that I'm only mildly interested in, but I feel like I should get more involved in their events. It gets me out of the house and around people. But I've already asked three people if they want to go with me, and they either can't go or aren't interested. Sigh. I could go by myself (and probably will), but what if I run into Co-Op Girl and once again look like the desperate guy with no friends? Or more importantly, will I feel that way?

Friday night another local organization is sponsoring a documentary on a cause that K was really into. I'm trying to decide if I should go to it. It's not really a cause that I care that much about (although K did a good job of opening my mind on it), but again, it's a way to get out of the house and maybe meet new people. Maybe if K was into it, I could meet someone else like her. On the other hand, is it pathetic to attend an event only because my ex was really into it? It seems like I'm still letting her influence my choices.

*****

Anyway, it's good to have a little time to breathe and contemplate these things.

Cycles

Today I am 39 1/3 years old; thirty-nine and four months.

Four months ago today I woke up next to the woman I love. We had a busy but fun day. For the first time since the divorce I was happy to celebrate my birthday, and it was all because of her. A little more than a month later she dumped me.

But that's in the past. And looking to the future, I only have eight months left til the dreaded Four-Oh. I'm one third of the way there from birthday to birthday. Ugh. Talk about dread. Part of the reason why I'm feeling such panic to find a mate since K dumped me is that I'm terrified of hitting 40 and being single.

My biggest fear about being 40 is that it will put me in a completely new dating demographic. I can forget about dating grad students in their mid to late 20's. Which happens to be the largest source of single women in my town. No, once I hit 40--officially Middle Age-- I will have to change my expectations. Divorced women in their 40's with teenage kids will be my new dating pool. Not that there's anything wrong with them. Some of my favorite people are in that group. But it's not a demographic that I'm used to dating, and I don't identify with them as much.

Most of the new friends I've made since my divorce have been in their early 30's. It's uncanny how I meet someone and then find out they're 30 or 31. Those are the people whose lives most resemble my own. I keep thinking of myself as a young professional in his late 20's/early 30's. But once I hit 40, that attitude will be untenable. I need to start acting my age.

*****

I went through the same thing when I was 29. I hated being 29, mostly because, like now, I was afraid of my odometer turning over. I didn't mind being 29 per se, what I minded was feeling like I was not where I thought I should be at that age. When I imagined myself five years younger, as a 24-year-old, I was perfectly happy with my life. So then I just decided to be 24. Problem solved.

So now I guess I'd like to be 32. That would still put me within dating distance of all those older grad students and young professionals, and wouldn't make me feel like I'm too old to still be looking for the great love of my life.

Twenty-nine was also a tough year because I finished a useless master's degree, broke up with my live-in girlfriend (the only other girlfriend I've lived with besides SnarkEx), and moved to a new town for a job that didn't pan out. It was a year of transitions.

*****

But 29 wasn't nearly as bad as 19. The year I turned 19 was probably the worst of my life. (At least in the top two, along with the year I got divorced.) I lived on my own for the first time in a dingy little downtown apartment with a slanted floor. I was horribly lonely and depressed. A stripper/prostitute lived above me and a biker couple lived in the apartment behind me. They would get in screaming fights and the guy would storm out, screaming, "I'll see you in hell, bitch!!!"

I like to call that time in my life my Great Depression.

*****

Aside from the year when I was 9-- which I imagine was a pretty good year because at that point I still had a happy childhood-- I'm noticing a pattern here. My last year of a decade is usually a difficult time for me.

But I have to admit that, compared to 19 and 29, 39 hasn't been too bad. Yes, I'm going through heartbreak, but I have so many more tools to deal with it than I did before. And looking back, my 30's were pretty great. Probably my best decade so far. (My first decade was also great-- but since I didn't have sex, tennis, or blogging back then, the 30's wins out.)

I dated four different women in my 30's. Married one of them. Finally finished all my degrees. Got a full time professional job, which made me feel like I'd won the lottery. Bought my first new car, then bought my first house. Spent eight years with the Greatest Cat Ever. Fell in love with tennis. Expanded my knowledge of the world. Had a lot of great sex. And although I've had my share of health problems in my 30's, I appear to be in great shape and cultivating healthy habits as the decades comes to an end.

So why am I afraid of my 40's? If the trend continues, my 40's should be even better than my 30's, which were better than my 20's, which were better than my teens.

*****

I'm getting older, my body is breaking down, the bald spot on the back of my head is getting bigger, and I have to start acting my age.

But at least I'm not 49. I'm sure when I'm 49, I will look at my body and then back at my 39-year-old self and think, "Man, he had no idea how good he had it."

So today I'll look to my 49-year-old self and say, "At least I'm not YOU."

Closing the File

I'll never forget the sentence a friend of mine uttered to me in high school when he wanted to tell me (gently) to stop pursuing a cute blue-eyed blond soccer player named Erica.

"Snark, It's time to close the Erica file."

(This was after she read the love note I'd written her, looked me up in the yearbook-- because she didn't know who I was-- and then laughed at my picture.)

*****

Over the years I've closed dozens of files on women I've pursued. I know how this works.

And it's time to close the file on Co-Op Girl.

She wasn't at the store yesterday when I did my weekly shopping, and since it's been a week since our last awkward conversation, where she said she'd email me but has been really busy, it's time for me to accept the only possible conclusion. She's just not into me.

Oh, I could continue to rationalize and do mental gymnastics to figure out how it's possible she's still interested but really has been busy. But it's been four weeks. There's a principle in science that says the simplest explanation is the most likely. She's not interested.

I still don't know what happened that last time we talked. Why she bothered to approach me at all, just to tell me that she would email me, and then didn't. Maybe I just seemed too aloof and she figured I'd lost interest. Maybe she expected me to ask her out in person and was giving me that opportunity and I blew it. Whatever. She's a decent human being and wanted to acknowledge the card and chocolate I gave her, but otherwise doesn't know how to reject me. It's fine. I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable.

I actually had planned to push the issue one last time when I went shopping yesterday. Only she wasn't there. Whenever I'm prepared so act, she's not there. Whenever I'm unprepared, she is.

As I drove away from the Co-Op yesterday, I decided it's time. Time to do the online dating thing. Since I also closed the file on Mystery Girl last month, for the moment my "organic" dating possibilities are no more.

*****

If I can ever find the time to put up a profile, I'll start online dating.

I've been super busy the past week, and this week will be the same. I had a busy social weekend. It seems that all my friends who I hadn't seen much the past six months wanted to see me last week. Then I hosted an impromptu NFL playoffs party at my house Sunday afternoon. Those were the good times.

But between all of that I had some down moments and crappy moods. I found myself with a few unexpected hours of downtime Saturday and tried to work on my book, but I was uninspired. At times I felt that special kind of loneliness you get when you miss sex with your ex. Hornliness?

This week I'm overwhelmed with work. I'm hitting the "busy season", spending 12-hour days doing the thing I like least about my job.

*****

So I don't know when I'll have time to craft my online dating profile. I'm afraid to start online dating, anyway, because just like real life, there will be much rejection. I'll have to respond to five profiles to get one response, and that won't go anywhere.

And most of the profiles will be boring, anyway. I thought they were boring before I met K, and she just raised the bar even higher. It's hard for me to imagine how I'm going to describe what I'm looking for. Do I just list all the qualities that made K so great?

I doubt I'll ever meet someone like her on a dating site.

Pretend Conversations

For some reason I've been itching for a fight this week. Maybe it's the weather. Maybe I've caught the case of the Winter blahs that seems to be going around. Everyone is feeling grumpy or agitated. When I got up this morning it was -4 outside my house. On the drive to work it got down to -8. The high today is supposed to be 11.

I think about conversations I have had, or future conversations I might have, and I get angry. Like trying to explain to a happily married couple what it's like to be single. Them not getting the profound difference between their relationship to each other and every other person in the world. So I script future conversations in my head.

I'm having lots of angry moments toward K. Since the detox started, I've hidden her posts from my Facebook page, and I haven't visited her profile once. But this week Facebook tried to show me some pictures from her albums (in the photo column to the right.) I didn't want to see even these small thumbnails. I don't want to know what's going on in her life. I'm afraid of it.

I'm not looking forward to getting back in contact with her. When we started the detox, she suggested that we pick a day, like tax day (April 15), to get back in touch. I told her I'd let her pick the day and let her do the contacting, since I couldn't focus on that. But now that date seems too soon. I'm afraid to hear she's been happy and single this whole time. I'm afraid that she won't have missed me or what we had together. I'm afraid she won't want me back. I'm afraid she'll be dating someone else. Having sex with someone else. Falling in love with someone else. What if I was just the practice relationship?

As my imagination runs wild with likely and unlikely scenarios, I script out angry conversations in my head. (Which is ironic, because we never had angry conversations when we dated. We hardly ever fought. It was one of the most peaceful relationships I've ever had. ) And I get all worked up. I'm clearly not ready to be friends with her yet.

Which is one of the things I get angry about. Does she want to be friends? Why? Doesn't she miss the intimacy? Doesn't she realize that most of our "friendship" was based on affection? I'm not going to pay her the same kind of attention if she's just a friend. And she won't have any right to get jealous of the women I date. (Like she did before we started dating.) In fact, that will make me angry, too. She could have had me. She DID have me. She could have me again. Her jealousy would just piss me off.

Which brings up another pretend conversation I plan to have with her. I fantasize about her wanting me back. It's in the back of my mind so much it's almost become an expectation, which I know is very dangerous. I won't take her back. At least not "back" in the sense of going back to the way things were. I'm not going to be in a relationship with her again where she has one foot out the door and I'm always nervous she's about to leave. But if she wants to take things forward and commit to me in good faith that I'm the person she wants indefinitely, I have all the love in the world for her.

It's a pretty stupid exercise. Even if we were to get back together, it's not going to go according to some script. And it won't happen while I'm sitting here fixating on it. I need to go out and find a replacement. Get her out of my head.

I need to stop having all these angry pretend conversations. I need to stop fixating on what she's doing. She has no business controlling my emotions anymore. We're broken up. Besides, it's not even her who's doing it, but my imagination of her.

So we're almost halfway through our detox, and it's not looking likely that I'll have her out of my system by the time it ends. Five months isn't nearly enough time. Maybe five years is more like it. She needs to go off and have lots of adventures, gain more experience and realize how great we really were together. I need to have lots of adventures too, so maybe I can find someone who matches me even better than her. I can't do that if I'm having pretend arguments with her in my head.

Image Issues

It's amazing how quickly I can go from feeling like the world's hottest studmuffin to thinking, "I'm an ugly little troll."

Over the holidays my brother got out a bunch of old home movies. Most of them were of his kids when they were little, but I would make brief appearances now and then. And I cringed every time I saw myself. I'd have a stupid haircut or an ugly crop of facial hair or be wearing dorky unflattering clothes.

And that was before I did something obnoxious like talk. I absolutely hate hearing my voice on video. I know-- everyone hates the sound of their own voice. It's because our voice sounds different inside our heads than it really sounds to the outside world. But I have objective reasons to hate my voice: people call me ma'am on the phone all the time. (When I tell people this in person, they don't believe me, because they don't think I sound like a woman at all. Go figure.)

So watching those videos made me feel as sexy as a toad. And I wonder if that's why K was not in love with me.

*****

SnarkEx used to call me "my sexy man." She usually said it when I was in my underwear. I don't know how sincere she was about that, though. She said it in the same tone I use to call my cat a "fierce and mighty hunter." Still, it was nice to be called sexy.

I remember one of my ex-girlfriends, on the first occasion that we got hot and heavy, telling me that she didn't want to go any further that night. "But I'm very attracted to you," she wanted to assure me. That was also nice to hear.

K used to say that I was "fine." It wasn't "fiiiiiine" as in, "Girl, that's a damn fine ass." It was more like "you'll do." Which was absolutely fine with me. Remember, she wasn't attracted to men, so "fine" was about the best I could hope for. It didn't seem to affect her enjoyment of me.

K also thought it was "cute" that she only weighed a little bit less than me. I was four inches taller than her, but only weighed about 10-15 pounds more. I'm not sure why she thought this was cute, but I'll take it.

*****

After I broke my clavicle a year and a half ago, I started doing push-ups to hide the fact that I'm permanently disfigured. A few months later I added sit-ups to the routine, and then leg thrusts, and then in the fall I started with exercises to strengthen my ankles. These exercises have become a welcome part of my daily routine, and I've noticed a difference. Add to that the 7-10 pounds that I lost after K dumped me, and my body looks better than it has in years.

So I was feeling pretty good about my body when I went on the cruise. I'd get in my bathing suit, stand in front of the mirror in my cabin, and admire myself. Then I went out among the people, to the hot tub, and felt like a troll again. Because other men were there, and although I looked great for me, I was still me.

I went back to my room alone and depressed. My body looks better than it has in years, and I don't have anyone to share it with. Harumph.

*****

When I got back from the cruise, I was eager to see all the pictures I'd taken. But the first time I opened them up on my computer, it was depressing. The first four days of pictures were just scenery, with the odd closeup of me trying to take a picture of myself in front of something. Since my divorce I've had lots of occasions to take those kinds of pictures. They reek of pathetic loneliness. I don't have any friends, so here's me taking my own picture. I'm usually concentrating so hard on getting the right picture that I have a furrowed brow. I look constipated.

The last night of the cruise I took my camera with me to the bar to get shots of all my new friends. I'm in a lot of those photos, but they're depressing for another reason. I was drunk, so either I have a stupid look on my face or I was groping one of the ladies, or I'm standing next to a normal sized man and look like... again... a troll. Seriously, seeing pictures of me next to men not in my family makes me feel like a miniature person.

*****

After my cruise I posted a picture on Facebook of me standing in front of some Mayan ruins. (I had asked one of my busmates to take my picture.) The shirt I'm wearing is a little tight, and my sister commented that I looked "burly." "Have you been working out?" She asked.

What a wonderful question. She had no idea how timely that comment was, considering how trollish I'd been feeling.

*****

The reality is somewhere between the troll and the studmuffin. No stranger ever looked at me and said, "I wanna piece of THAT!" But I don't think women recoil at me, either. About the best I get is "cute." Like a LOLcat. But with better captions.

Women don't fall in love with me because of my looks. I have lots of other great qualities, and that's why they love me. But sometimes it gets tiring always having to use my sparkling personality to get dates.

Plugging Away

Finally climbing out of my post-vacation hole of self-imposed shit-to-do. And I've hit the ground running on my social life.

In my effort to be distractedly single-- if not happily single-- I have plans five out of six evenings this week. On Thursday there are three different things going on, but I can only do one of them. Why does everything interesting always get scheduled for Thursdays? The Co-Op is sponsoring a movie and I thought maybe Co-Op Girl would be there. Maybe I could run into her or at least get more involved in their events. But I have to go to the tennis workout, because I have a league match on Saturday and I need to be in shape for that. So I'm making priorities. Tennis is more important than a possible meeting with someone who may or may not be a date.

Frankly, I'm not real optimistic about Co-Op Girl. I still haven't heard from her since I saw her on Sunday, when she said she'd email me. It was three weeks ago today that I asked her to coffee. I'm willing to believe she really is that busy, but even if she is interested in getting to know me, do I want another person in my life who doesn't have enough time for me?

So anyway, I'm not holding my organic-cheddar-bunnies breath on that one. In the meantime, I'm trying to organize two other social events. In times of great necessity and desperation I've shown myself to be quite the organizer, although it's never been a role I'm comfortable with. At one time in grad school I was in charge of four different social groups. So I'm getting out there and doing stuff.

For someone who bellyaches so much about just wanting to find a partner, I'm not really taking many steps to make it happen right now. I'm not ready for online dating yet. I'm still holding out for that organic meeting, the chance encounter at tennis or a party or a cafe or a gas station that will be a great story to tell 10 years from now.

In the meantime, I'm distracting myself. For me, it's better to be overbusy than underbusy.

Who Do I Want To Be?

Right after I finished writing my post this morning about how all my organic dating possibilities are drying up, I went to the Co-Op to do my weekly shopping. As I stood in the baked goods corner, contemplating cookies, I heard someone behind me say, "Hi, Snark." When I turned around, I saw it was Co-Op Girl!

She said she was sorry that she hadn't got back to me yet. She's been really busy. She has my email and will send me a message so we can get together sometime. She thanked me for the chocolate and said she really likes chocolate (what girl doesn't?)

This sounds great on paper and I should be elated, but I'm not getting excited yet. The conversation was actually kind of awkward and she seemed like she wanted to get away as quickly as possible. For my part, I was tongue-tied because I hadn't scripted any of this out in my head. I don't remember what I said exactly, but I'm afraid I was too surprised to appear enthusiastic. I hope she didn't get the impression that I'm no longer interested. I do remember that I said, "Great!" at the end of the conversation. Not sure it was clear what that was in reference to.

So anyway, I know that she's at least receptive to hanging out sometime, although that still leaves open a lot of room for interpretation. She might just feel obligated because I bought her the chocolate and I'm a loyal customer. Or she might just want to be friends, which wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. I at least know she doesn't have the same sense of urgency about getting coffee that I did. To paraphrase the speech from When Harry Met Sally, when you find the girl that you want to have coffee with, you want coffee to start as soon as possible.

*****

But this is good timing, because today I'd planned to use Co-Op Girl as an example on a post about dating and identity.

The person you date/fall in love with/marry can have a huge influence on the person you become. In some ways, when you commit to someone, you're also choosing the person you want to be. And the role you want to play.

For instance, I have reason to believe that Co-Op Girl may be a vegan. And I wonder if I could date a vegan. A vegetarian, alright. Some of my favorite people are vegetarians and we get along fine. But dairy is so important to me. Yogurt, ice cream, cheese. I love love love cheese. I could start a religion on it. It's hard for me to imagine cooking for, or sharing a life with, someone who doesn't eat it. I don't think I could give it up, even for the perfect woman.

So I wonder if I could spend my life with a vegan. It's not necessarily a dealbreaker, and I'm not going to let it prevent me from getting to know her better. Maybe I could surprise myself (I've done it before.) Sometimes someone comes into your life to help you grow. But just the thought of dating a vegan makes me think about the kind of person I want to be.

Then there's Mystery Girl, a young undergrad at my college with a young son. I hardly know anything about her-- don't even know if she's with someone or a single mother. But if I dated her, it would be a very different life for me than anyone I've been with before. Do I want to be that person?

Last month I went out with a bunch of tennis people. TennisGrrrl (TG) was there. Remember her? She told me that she plays doubles with a lady, a doctor in her 30's, who's single and looking to mingle. She thought the two of us would hit it off, so I told her, sure, let's make it happen. This lady is apparently a really good tennis player (at a higher level than me), cute and short like TG. So that's another possibility. I don't know her at all, but dating a really good tennis player might give me a different identity. I might get even more obsessed with the game than I am now.

Anyway, my point is, who you share you life with can have a huge influence on the person you are. There are so many different aspects to my personality-- the writer, the joker, the jock, the intellectual, the political activist, the cynic, the neurotic, the anal librarian. Any of these aspects may be developed or downplayed depending on who I end up with.

So when I consider a date, I'm also considering who I want to be.

*****

Two disclaimers:

Of course, it's not always my choice. Other people have free will, so you can't just go pick out a mate like you're picking out a car on a lot. It has to be mutual, and the person you want has to want you back. (Which was K's fatal flaw. She didn't want to be my girlfriend because that was not the person she wanted to be.)

This also assumes that people mate for life. As anyone who's ever been through a breakup/divorce knows, humans don't always mate for life. It could be that I'm destined to be a serial monogamist, going from one significant relationship to the next. Consciously, that's not the person I want to be, but so far it's been my pattern.

Unscheduled Post

I have a backlog of posts I plan to write, but I'm still trying to climb out of the post-vacation hole since I returned from my cruise. It's a good thing this is a three day weekend. Thank you, Martin Luther King, for giving me a much needed day off. Oh, and for all that civil rights stuff, too.

I'd planned to go to "church" this morning, since I haven't been in weeks. I got up, showered, got dressed, ate breakfast, got the laundry started, figured out my grocery list (I always go grocery shopping after church, since they're near each other), and then just decided that I didn't want to go. I have nine things on my to-do list today, and church is not one of them. I'm feeling overwhelmed and a little depressed.

A year ago was my second super date weekend with K. It was fantastic. I wonder if she's thinking about that at all. Obviously, I am.

Last night I almost put as my FB status: I miss her. I was having a very weak moment. I even had the fantasy of texting her, "I miss you." Lately the phrase "I miss K" has gone through my head so much it's become my mantra.

I miss what we had and I miss what we almost had. I miss the semi-daily contact over email, Facebook, text, phone calls. I miss the illusion that there was someone always thinking about me, who understood me and wanted to know me better. I miss the anticipation of seeing her. And then seeing her. I miss the sex. Oh, God, how I miss that. We were incredible together. Ironically (considering how we started), that may have been the strongest bond between us, our mutual addiction to touching and being touched.

I'm willing to entertain the possibility that we weren't right for each other. Maybe it was easy for me to fall so totally in love with her because we live so far apart. I could be glamorizing what we had. We didn't hang out often enough to see each other's ugly side. If we'd lived in the same town, maybe we'd have seen that we weren't as compatible as I thought. But we never got a chance to test that, and so I miss what might have been.

It's hard to tell if I'm making any progress on my detox. Last night I went over to my brother's and we watched a movie. I sat in the same chair I'd sat in two months ago, when I cried my eyes out over my broken life. I realized I haven't cried over K in a long time. So I guess that's progress. But I'm still having lots of K attacks and missing her.

I wonder and fear what it will be like when we get back in touch next April. Will she be dating someone? Will I? Will I be strong enough to be her friend? Will she have missed me?

I really think the only way I'll get over her is to date someone else. But my organic dating possibilities are drying up. I haven't heard from Co-Op girl in the almost three weeks since I left her that card, so I assume that means she's not interested. Mystery Girl was in the library this week, the first time in a month, but she didn't stop to talk to me. I guess it's time to start online dating, but I'm too exhausted with a lot of other stuff right now to craft an online profile. I'm also a little afraid to jump into online dating, because I know once I exhaust all the possibilities there, I'll have nowhere else to turn. Then I really will have no more options. And having no possibilities is the scariest thing of all.

Okay, enough wallowing. Time to get to my chores.

More Important Than Happiness

Here's a radical thought: some things are more important than happiness. This is my pouty response to people who tell me I need to be happy as a single person.

There may be some real advantages to being single. In many ways I might be better off living independent and free from personal entanglements. I don't care. I don't want to get comfortable as a single person. It's not the goal that I've set for myself, and I feel like it's denying my true nature to accept this fate.

Since the breakup with K I've been even more focused on this issue than normal. She awoke some sort of monster within me and now I'm desperate and panicky to find someone to be with. It's funny, because before she came along, I didn't want to be in a relationship. I had just broken up with AG and for the first and only time in my life, I wanted to cultivate a happy single life. Then K opened the floodgates and showed me that I wasn't broken-- I could love again. Through her I became addicted to love. Now I can't close the floodgates. I have a surplus of love. (Please don't mix these metaphors at home.)

It could be that this fixation on finding love is a symptom of my heartbreak. I'm still not over K, so I'm scrambling to replace her.

I know this is a common theme on this blog. Even the new blog name, Quest for Love, belies this new fixation. The blog is no longer about getting over my divorce or discovering myself or dealing with my neuroses, it's about finding love.

So let me write about this yet again, using slightly different words and metaphors. On the Snarkbutt Scorecard of Life, there's really only one column that matters. Give yourself one point for being in a committed sexual relationship, and zero points for being single. I have one driving goal in life, and it is to be paired up. When I am paired up, I feel like the universe is in equilibrium. When I'm single, the world is off-kilter.

Oh, I can go through the motions, have fun experiences and enjoy lots of individual moments when I'm single, but my Big Picture is still incomplete. My life is on hold. I feel like a loser. That's not to say that everyone who's single is a loser. This is my own personal scorecard. Based on the goals that I've set for myself, on my own measuring stick, singlehood for me is a FAIL.

So when people tell me to be happy by myself, I say: some things are more important than happiness. My goal is not necessarily to be happy, but to be paired up. Of course, happiness would be a part of that. I'm not looking to be in an unhappy relationship. (I've shown myself capable of leaving those.) But I see happiness as a subset of love, not the other way around. I'm not looking to love as a path to happiness. Love is its own reward.

Does that sound crazy? It reminds me of a great quote I once heard during a family feud: some people would rather be right than happy. So is that me? Am I being stubborn, demanding that I find love instead of being happy?

I'm not saying this is as it should be. This is simply how it is. Maybe it's my virtue, maybe it's my curse. It makes much more sense to just be happy with whatever life gives you. And I'll still try to maximize my moments of happiness as a single person. Ironically, the chances of me attracting the right mate are better if I'm a happy single dude. So as a strategy to achieve my goals, I will try to be happy.

But that doesn't mean I have to like it.

My Week Among the Dancing Nurses

It wasn't until about 2 am on the last night of my cruise that the conversation started to get interesting with the older of the two Filipino-American dancing nurse cousins from the Bay Area. The dancing nurses had to leave the ship in about five hours, so they called it a night. She hugged me, got on the elevator, and left my life as quickly as she'd entered it.

Sigh.

//////

Warning: This is a long-ass post. I apologize in advance for my long-windedness. There's really only one way to do this, and that's with a shitload of bullet points in chronological order.

Day 1: Departure

• As my brother drives me to the airport at 5:30 AM, he gives me a pep talk about finding the ship's Julie McCoy and having her hook me up with social events. (She was the cruise director of the Love Boat. ) I never did find her. The cruise director for my ship was a tall thin dude who went by the one-word name of Noonan. He didn't find me a love connection, although he did host a lot of cheesy shows.
• Sitting in the airport waiting for my first flight, I realize there is no one to text. Welcome to Solitude. Population: me. It's my first flight since the breakup. The past five or six times I've flown, it's been to see K. I've come to associate flying so much with her that I wonder if just sitting on a plane is going to give me an erection.
• On the cruise bus from the airport to the seaport, I see a young couple. I think of them as the New York/New Jersey couple, although I have no idea where they're actually from. The girl is very hot and the guy looks nerdy like me. WTF? I kept seeing this couple on the boat throughout the cruise, and I always wondered what they thought of me-- a guy taking a cruise all my himself. Did they think I was a loser?
  
• I stand in many, many, many long lines waiting to board the ship. I see tons of other cute women, but none of them are alone. At least three women have wedding veils or some other evidence that they're on their honeymoon.
  
• I board the boat. The first day is really cold. I don't go out on deck without wearing my cardigan. It reminds me of my honeymoon: we were in Key West in December and had to wear jackets.
• Right after the ship leaves port I try to stand in the front bow and get a "I'm King of the World!" picture, but it turns out there is no place to stand at the front of the boat. I have to settle for one from the frontish side. It doesn't feel very King of the Worldish.
  
• The first night I plan my itinerary. There's dinner, a bar meeting, a show, and a single dance party I plan to go to.
  
• Dinner is okay. I'm seated with three other parties, each with three people in them: a married couple from southern Mississippi with a middle-aged friend of the wife; a New Jersey mother with her two middle-aged daughters; and an older Minnesota couple with the wife's younger brother. I was the only person there traveling entirely by himself. It was neat having such diverse places represented, but the first night was kinda awkward. We mostly just talked about football.
  
• I try going to an event for GLBT folks in the wine bar. Although I'm not strictly GLBT, I have lots gay friends, they tend to share my values, and I thought that this may be a good way to meet like-minded people. But the event is a total bust, as I don't see anyone there at all. Every night they held similar events, and I never saw anyone show up to them.
  
• The first show I go to is a huge disappointment. I don't know what I expected, but it's a cheesy song and dance medley all about FUN!!! Men and women in sequins prancing about singing various songs with the word "fun" in it. ("Fun fun fun til our daddy takes the t-bird away", "Girls just wanna have fun", etc.) Lots of costume and scenery changes, but the huge letters F-U-N were always there in the background. They're trying way too hard to put the word fun in our brains. It was lame. Do people actually enjoy this kind of thing?
  
• I really like my room. There's a smell in there that's comforting. It has one large queen-sized bed in it. Suddenly I have a great urge to share it with someone.
  
• The first night I go to a Single Mingle party in the dance club. It starts at midnight. That's when I first notice the dancing girls. A group of about 4-6 of them who seem to be having a great time. One of them wins a dance competition by grinding up against some lucky guy. I'm not brave enough to get out on the dance floor myself, but I admire the dancing girls from the bar. And tap my feet to the music.
  
• I reflect on how weird it is that at 1:40 AM, out at sea in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico, I'm at a loud rocking dance club. It wasn't my usual Monday evening.

Leaving New Orleans

Day 2: Fun Day at Sea

• After sleeping in and then having a crappy breakfast because the breakfast buffet was ending and all the good food was gone, I go out on the deck. It's 11:00 AM on Tuesday and here's what I write in my notes: "Sun!! Warmth!!! Hot girls in bikinis! This is why I'm here."
• The weather is perfect today. I sit in the shade in my shorts and t-shirt and read a book, take notes. The book I'm reading is Gulliver's Travels, which I'd never read but it seems appropriate for a cruise. I wouldn't finish it this week, though, because I could never read for a long time. I'd get restless and feel the need to wander the ship and change my position. If anyone was watching me, they might wonder about the solitary dude walking all around the ship with a paperback in his hand. Hey, I'm a librarian, a book is like my badge.
  
• I ogle a LOT of women in bathing suits this week. Is that wrong? The problem is, it just reminds me of K and how beautiful she was. She's still the best girl I've ever been with, and it's hard for me to imagine finding someone better. There's a family sunbathing near me and the adult daughters remind me of K and her sisters. Sigh.
  
• I miss K a lot on this trip. The last two vacations I took were with her, and on Tuesday I'm wearing a t-shirt she bought me from our New York camping trip, and I'm using the note pad from the bed & breakfast we stayed at in Vermont. Also, I'm wearing the Ben & Jerry's cap I bought during our Vermont vacation. Lots of reminders.
  
• On Tuesday I write this, "I don't think I'm going to take a cruise again. Definitely not solo. This isn't my kind of vacation." I'm lonely and mopey and judgy and feeling sorry for myself. Part of me also wonders what K would think of me taking a cruise, because I don't think this would be her type of vacation.
  
• I think about how I get mad at people who don't appreciate the loving relationships they're in. But there are probably people who would get mad at me for not appreciating a tropical vacation like the one I'm on. I'm trying.
  
• I really like the way the boat rocks. It feels like I'm always on a low-grade roller coaster. Also, it's really calming to sit at the very back of the boat and watch it churn out water behind it. It's amazing to look out in all directions and see nothing but water. Here we are, a floating city in the middle of nowhere.
• For lunch I try to go to the sit-down restaurant. They won't sit me at a table by myself, so they put me at a table with strangers. I'm feeling anti-social and they wouldn't even let me move one seat over to have a buffer seat. I have to sit right next to this family. Sigh. I sit there for a few awkward minutes and then decided I'm not hungry and leave. I get a crappy burger instead and sit at the back of the boat, watching it move through the water.
  
• At 1:00 on Tuesday they have a bean-bag toss scheduled. Sounds like cornhole, the fun game (with an unfortunate name) I've played with my family at Snarkfest. Only this is lame, lame, lame. There are no teams, no real scoring, no competition. Anyone who wants to throw some bags can just step right up. After everyone is done, the assistant cruise director running the game moves the board further away and we do a second round. Some guy wins that and it's game over. The asst. cruise director takes the board and goes. It is 1:09. That occupied exactly nine minutes of my day. Lame.
  
• Walking by the food buffet at 2:30 in the afternoon, I notice shrimp quesadillas. Shrimp quesadillas!! But I had a crappy burger for lunch! Then I realize: I'm on vacation and the food is free. Why not have a second lunch? So I do! Home made chips with cilantro pesto? Tortilla crusted chicken? Shrimp quesadilla? Don't mind if I do!
  
• The Bob Marley music on the deck is nice.
• I know I have the wrong attitude about this cruise. Someone more social that me would have just sat down at lunch and got to know the strangers. I wasn't being very open.
  
• 3:00 pm. I go back to my room for the 40th time today to change again. This time into my sandals because it's finally warm enough. On the second day of the cruise I have already worn all four pairs of footwear I brought with me.
• I'm getting lots of exercise walking around the boat. I can't stay in one place very long. I get restless and need to change my position, see what's shakin' elsewhere.
• Just saw a woman in a bikini with enormous porn-style fake breasts. I mean, these things had their own gravity. This one is totally obvious, but then I wonder, how many other breasts that I've admired today were fake?
• 3:50 pm. I'm bored. I keep trying to walk around the boat, but nothing interesting is going on. The sun is going down and now it's getting cold. Back to my room to put on socks.
• Every day, late afternoon was the most depressing time. I didn't have dinner til 8:15, so from about 5:00 to 8:00 I wouldn't know what to do with myself. I'd usually try to nap or watch TV in my cabin.
  
• I think I might just be too cheap to enjoy a cruise. I sit down at a Texas Hold'em table, but the minimum buy-in is $50. I don't want to gamble that much. I play the quarter slots with a $5 bill, but I only win once and the money is gone in about 3 minutes. Not fun.
• 6:10 pm. Just for something to do, I ride the glass elevator in the atrium from the 2nd floor to the 11th. Think about those words: glass elevator, atrium, 2nd-11th floors, and the fact that I'm on a boat! The thing is fucking huge. Like, gargantuan. I wonder how it compares to an aircraft carrier, oil tanker, or battleship. It's an amazing feat of nautical engineering, all designed for pleasure, not war or cargo.
• Just before dinner on Tuesday I get my only pangs of nausea and dizziness. But it goes away after I eat something. Dinner is much more fun on Tuesday and I start getting to know my table mates more. We talk about hanging out in Cozumel on Thursday together.
• I spend a little time at the dance club Tuesday, but don't venture on to the dance floor. More admiring of dancing girls. It's the earliest night all week, as I go to bed around midnight. I have to get up early Wednesday for my tour of Mayan ruins.

My Second Lunch

Day 3: Protego

• Chichen Itza day! I'm taking a tour of the most famous Mayan site. I'm excited.
• I feel bloated when I get up and am determined to have a light breakfast. Fail. I get grits, cantaloupe, salty potato slices, french toast, and a "panko crusted egg,": a deep-fried hard-boiled egg. How can I resist that?
• Because of my big breakfast and taking pictures of the port, I have to rush to get off the boat so I don't miss the bus to Chichen Itza. It's the only excursion I have planned all week and I don't want to miss it. I run much of the way there and make it in time. Then I check my backpack. My camera isn't there. Oh, no!!!!!! I'm all alone on vacation and I'm visiting one of the most famous archeological sites in the world, and I don't have my camera. I can't begin to express how devastating this is.
  
• I check my backpack again and see that I've also forgotten my book and my notepad. No reading and no taking notes. It's a five-hour bus ride there and back, and I have nothing to entertain myself. This is shaping up to be the worst vacation ever.
• I think back. The last time I had all three things was at breakfast. I had my cooler with me, because I filled it up with muffins and fruit for my excursion. I check inside my cooler. There they are! My camera! My book! My notepad! Life is worth living again!!!
  
• I take lots of pictures of the Mayan ruins and buy some good souvenirs. It's a good distraction for most of the day, although I don't talk to anyone during the seven-hour excursion.
  
• Back on the boat Wednesday late afternoon, I want to go swimming but the water is too cold. I decide to brave the hot tub by myself. I've been wanting to show off my body, since I've been doing lots of push-ups and I lost weight after K dumped me. It really looks better than it has in years. But after one day of overeating, I feel fat. I see myself in a mirror and realize that, while my body may look good for me, it's still me. I still can't compete with hot 22-year-olds and six-pack abs. My body issues make me miss K, because she was the last person to enjoy my body. Was I spoiled to be with someone as beautiful as her?
  
• Wednesday night I'm about halfway through the cruise. And everything starts to turn around. After dinner I go to the karaoke bar with my dinner mates. One of them sings, and I'm inspired to go up there myself. I sign up and then drink as many beers as I can to fill myself with liquid courage. I sing Jimmy Buffett's "Cheeseburgers in Paradise." Before I start I say, "I can't actually carry a note, but I can make up for it by being loud. Feel free to sing along if you know this song and try to drown me out." People laugh. I totally rock that song! It is thrilling and the most fun I've had all week. I also enjoy hearing other people sing fun party songs. The dancing girls are there, too. They sing three songs.
• After karaoke I go to a party on deck. The dancing girls are there and I finally get up the nerve to talk to one of them. I find out they are nurses from the Bay Area. The deck party ends at midnight (lame!) and so I follow the dancing nurses to the dance club. I still can't work up the courage to get on the dance floor myself, but I'm getting closer. I bob my head back and forth to the music.
  
• At 1:09 AM I walk past the casino bar on my way to my cabin when one of the dancing nurses shouts, "Hey, Snark, come hang out with us!" I hang out with them at the bar for a few minutes until they they have to turn in. One of them asks me if I'm going on a certain beach excursion in Cozumel tomorrow. I didn't know, but it's nice to be asked.

The pyramid at Chichen Itza

Day 4: Cozumel

• I sleep in and don't go to the beach to see the dancing nurses. Okay, in retrospect that was really stupid, and I don't have a good excuse. I wasn't planning to do any cruise-sponsored excursions that day. I just wanted to explore the town.
• I walk 3.5 miles in the hot noonday Mexican sun to get to downtown Cozumel. The walk reminds me of K, because we used to take lots of long walks together. Once I get to downtown, I am bombarded with touristy commercialism on steroids. I can't go anywhere without being accosted by locals trying to sell me their crap. It's not my scene. I see the local museum, which is pretty lame, buy a few souvenirs for family and then take a cab back to the boat.
  
• Late afternoon, back on the boat, I can't decide what to do with myself. I cut short my nap so I can watch us take off from the port. Should I take another nap? Watch TV? Take a shower? Read?
• That's when I discover the movie on deck that had the chick who played Sarah Marshall on it. I watch that, which passes the time til dinner.
• Thursday is the rockiest evening of the cruise. The boat sways so much from side to side that one of our dinner companions has to go to her cabin. I kinda like it though. I go back to the dance club again (clubbing four nights in a row-- I've never done that!) and it's cool to feel the floor rock while you're dancing. Finally, after three nights, I get the courage to go on the dance floor, and dance over to the nurses.
• I hang out with them for the rest of the evening. We go to a burlesque show at midnight, which is also kinda lame, but it's fun to be with people. We go back to the disco and close it at 3:00 am. Then I show them where the 24-hour pizza place is on the ship and we have pizza til 3:30. Very fun.

The long walk into downtown Cozumel

Day 5: Fun Day at Sea #2

• Sleep in til 11:00. It's much windy and cooler today as we head back north. I've hardly got any color at all this week. I've been so vigilant about avoiding sunburn that I've stayed in the shade and wore tons of sunscreen. So today I decide to sunbathe unprotected. Only it's too cold and windy, so after about half an hour I give up.
  
• I'd saved my favorite t-shirt, the one that says, "Slacker", for the last day, and now it's too cold to really show it off. I have to wear a flannel shirt over it. Sigh.
• I walk all around the ship today trying to run into one of the dancing nurses. I wonder if they really enjoy my company or if I'm becoming the annoying guy they can't get rid of. I really, really suck at dancing. I did it last night, but the girls didn't want to dance with me like they do with other, more aggressive guys. I'm just too damn shy to get physical with someone I hardly know. When one of them tried to give me a pity grind, I had no idea what to do. I suck at dancing. But the rest of the night was fun. It was nice to be included.
  
• My favorite show of the week is Friday afternoon. It is the love and marriage show, where they bring married couples on stage and ask them questions, then they compare answers, like The Newlywed Game. They have a newlywed couple, "middleweds", and some who've been married 40 years. I love shit like that. I keep wondering how I would answer the questions, only I vacillate between playing the game with SnarkEx and playing it with K.
• From my notes, 4:15 pm: "One of the best feelings in the world is when you run into someone who's happy to see you. I don't get enough of that in my life." This is after walking all over the boat all afternoon looking for the dancing nurses. At least I'm getting lots of exercise.
  
• Soon after, I run into one of the dancing nurses reading and sunning herself on deck. Only it's a very awkward interaction and I can't tell if she wants my company or not. So I leave. It's a very depressing interaction that has me eager to go back home.
• So I decide to get drunk. It's 4:30 on my last day and there's no reason I can't get good and liquored up. I order a daiquiri at the bar and start drinking. Suddenly things turn around. In the course of half an hour I run into three people I know-- they're all glad to see me. Suddenly I'm Mr. Popular.
• I go to a farewell music party where there are free drinks and get more liquored up with one of my new friends, a dude who goes by Fast Eddie-- I shit you not-- and who also hung out with the dancing nurses the night before. (He was hitting on one of the Filipino cuties. I may have inadvertently cockblocked him when he asked her to go for a walk on the deck and I said, "It's really windy and cold up there.") Anyway, today Fast Eddie is with two other women, and he and I drink as much free beer as possible before the event ends at 6:00.
  
• Now I'm drunk, and as I stumble back to my cabin for my afternoon nap, I see one of the dancing nurses with her husband in the casino bar. He buys me another drink, so I stay and drink with them.
  
• Before dinner I have to go back to my cabin to pack, because we have to put our suitcase out that evening. Drunk packing!! I've never done that before.
  
• I still have a good buzz on at dinner, where I entertain my dinner mates with my drunkenness and take pictures of all of them. Then I go and visit the dancing nurses table. The one who I had the awkward interaction with earlier asks me why I left. I guess she did want me around.
  
• After dinner I meet up once again with the dancing nurses at the casino bar. It's the only night we don't go clubbing, which is fine by me. I prefer to talk, anyway. I buy a round of drinks. We all plan to have an early night in, since we have to leave the boat so early the next morning, but instead we stay out til 2:00 am. That is when I get to know the more mature cute Filipino, and I decide I like her the best. I get a huge drunken crush on her.
• Ironic that I spent so much of the week being lonely and mopey and judgy, and now I don't want it to end. The lesson I learn from all this is: good things happen when you drink. The thing is, I don't actually know if good things happened, or if I was just too drunk to care. I mean, what if those girls thought I was annoying?

Our waiters got up on tables and danced for us on the last night. Much fun.

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Epilogue

So that was it: the good, the bad, the karaoke.

Given a few more days, maybe I could have hooked up with the cute Filipino dancing nurse from the Bay Area. I really felt like we were starting to hit it off when they had to leave. Or maybe it was just beer bravado and she wasn't really into me. I've friended a few of the nurses on FB, but the one I crushed on doesn't seem to be there. So I'm trying to figure out how I could get in touch with her. I have some pics of her, and I could email her friends and ask them for her contact info so I could email her the pics. Would they see through that as stalkery? Or should I just let it go?

A few post-cruise numbers:

13: number of degrees, Fahrenheit, it was in Snarktown when I got home. Brrr.
0: Amazingly, number of pounds I gained during my cruise.
5: number of calls I got from family in the first day back from the cruise. I can't believe all the attention I'm getting for just going on vacation. Is it really that interesting?
62: Number of bullet points in this post.
4: Number of hours it took me to write this post.

Sarah Marshall Was On My Cruise

Remember how I wrote about watching Forgetting Sarah Marshall the week before my cruise? And how this was going to be my Forgetting K Cruise?

As I was wandering about the deck one night, feeling bored, lonely, and mopey, and trying to figure out what to do before dinner, I discovered a movie had just started on the pool jumbotron. And guess who was in it? The same girl who played Sarah Marshall. I don't know her name, and I've never seen her in anything else, but she was on my cruise! (The movie was When In Rome, which was a cheesy love story full of Hollywood cliches, but it had its moments and it did pass the time.)

I've been struggling with the answer to the question, "How was your cruise?" I don't have a single answer, but dozens of conflicting adjectives: warm, cold, calm, windy, huge, tiny, lonely, crowded, cheesy, grand, gluttonous, eventful, drunken, sobering, exhausting, boring, fun. I've realized that as I talk more and more about it, I've got hundreds and hundreds of things to say about it, so I guess that's a good thing. Life is all about collecting stories, insights, and experiences, right?

Since I had no one to bounce all of my thoughts off of, I started taking notes the first day. I ended up filling 30 pages of my Applebutter Inn notepad (the bed & breakfast that K and I stayed at in Vermont.)

So I have much to say, and right now I'm just trying to figure out how to put it all together. Some of it belongs on this blog, some of it would fit better on my public blog, some of it might make a good article in a local magazine, and some nasty thoughts are not fit for any public expression.

There's a hundred different things to do with this, and since I got back I've been overwhelmed with getting back into my real life. I'm way behind on everything, today is the hectic first day of the semester, and I have a huge list of shit to do.

So, dear blogfriends, you will have to wait a little bit longer to hear the full report. (And it will also take me a while to catch up on your lives.) But it will come.

All Packed

The Carnival website has a little red box with a countdown to my cruise. Today it says, "You cruise in 0 days."

Considering we still have 26 hours until we depart, I think their math is a little off. But I appreciate their enthusiasm.

I just finished packing. At least, I hope I finished. I still have that nagging feeling that I've forgotten something vital. (Don't worry, I have suntan lotion. Everyone has told me not to forget that, so while I was out shopping the other day I bought two tubes of it (different bottles for different conditions.) When I got home, I discovered I already had two tubes in my closet, so now I have four goddam tubes of suntan lotion. I probably won't use all of that up in the next 5 years.)

Anyway, I'm ready to go and I have a few hours of leisure time before some plans tonight. It feels like the only time during my entire three-week vacation that I have actual leisure time with no errands, projects, or chores hanging over me. So that's kinda nice.

*****

My first day of the new year was not a good one. I stayed home and did weekend chores: cleaning, vacuuming, laundry, bills, nap. I wasn't in a very good mood, maybe because I'd been out to 2:00 am two nights in a row, and since I have trouble sleeping in that makes me grumpy all day. I went the entire day without seeing another human being, although I did have two short phone calls.

I don't know why I'm bothering to write these things out on my blog, but since there's no one primary in my life, I don't have anyone else to tell these things to.

I wasn't excited when I got up this morning. I was worried about my solo vacation. I worry that I'm going to have all these awesome experiences and no one to tell about them. I worry that I'll feel alone and isolated on a boat full of people having fun. I worry about being the wallflower at the orgy (with all due respect to Nora Ephron.)

It could go either way. I could feel that way, but I could also meet lots of people and be the life of the party. I've played both roles in my life, but it really is a crap shoot as to which way it will go.

*****

After packing I'm feeling a little more excited. I checked the weather report and it should be in the 70's and 80's where I'm going. (It's 28 degrees outside my house right now.) So that's exciting.

I'll just try to enjoy getting out of my head, out of my life, and out of my routine for a few days and see what happens.

*****

So, friends, I'll be offline, off the grid, and disconnected for the next week.

Please make sure not to let anything exciting or interesting happen while I'm gone.