Am going on holiday on Friday. Having mixed feelings. Will be spending a few days in Unhinged Mother Figure’s London flat, a day of relaxation in Bath with Very Calm Brother Figure and then off to Paris and Madrid. Did I mention entire holiday will be spent with UMF?? If not — there it is — cause for mixed feelings.

Am debating whether or not to drag along laptop to chronicle events of holiday, as am sure will not be without drama, or at v. least, pining thoughts for lovely J.
At least trip will be sans Neo-Alcoholic Cheating Father, and hopefully without mention of him as well. Turns out, UMF and NACF have agreed to marriage counseling. Indeed.

Can forsee therapy session:
UMF: This isn’t working. I give up.
Therapist: We haven’t even begun…
UMF: Yes, but… well, he’s a fool as you can see.
NACF: Woman…
UMF: Yes? Something to say? (to therapist) See? Hopeless I tell you.
Therapist: Indeed.

Have washed glasses (margarita glasses, shot glasses, wine glasses), recycled copious amounts of beer bottles, taken out trash and aired house of heady smoky haze. But still have not gotten out of pajamas. Day has passed in naps punctuated by trips to kitchen for bread & cheese or left over party odds and ends. Fine day.

Was three or four margaritas under by time J showed up to tragically un-exciting party. Am convinced am not able to throw party without weather/tragic events putting damper on situation. First thing out of Js mouth when through the door with his entourage?

J: You’re drunk.
H: Am not.
Entourage laughed. Thin Blonde member of group announced that must be, as can normally come up with much wittier comeback.
H: Fine. Am drunk.

J pulled up chair and emptied pockets of smoking paraphernalia. “Now let’s get you stoned.” Sat down next to Thin Blonde Girlfriend and didn’t argue. Have no idea who ate contents of v. large M&M bowl. Am pretty certain was yours truly. Am avoiding going into bathroom, as scale will want accounting of party behavior. Will shout at evil scale that is not my boss and is evil task master. But will eventually fess up, am sure.

Before leaving, J came to give farewell embrace. Ended up very close, with mouth touching Js lovely ear. Had dizzying flashbacks of first J kiss and fumbling around in bedroom months ago. Thought, “Want to kiss lovely ear. Want to take you in bedroom now.” Said, “Thanks for coming.”

J can walk into room and make this good girl think many thoughts that good girl should not think. Thought many of said thoughts, sat back down on couch and finished bag off too-salty chips. Blast.

Am thinking of making trip to New York for party on 20th. Want to meet faceless folks, sources of many hours of entertainment. And also don’t want to meet faceless friends… am fairly certain am going to be much less of success in person. Will see.

Has become clear that choice of clothing is, indeed, most important factor in one’s career.

Or would certainly seem so. Firm made up of (for most part) Pedantic Aging, Over-fed, White Male Egos pays absolutely no attention to words spoken, or work produced by yours truly. BUT each and every article of clothing requisites examination and demands to be commented upon. On regular basis. Last week was, “You look like Pocahontas today.” “Poca-who?” Said this not out of ingorance, as am familiar with legendary Native American Herione turned British Court Buffoon (poor gal), but out of feeling that, PAOWM’s should not be making such comments as, well, has nothing to do with job description or performance. Bugger off, old fellers. Worst was, being asked by Very High Up Authority, mid-way through marketing meeting, “H, how are you?” “I’m well.” “Well, you look well.” Dirty old man.

Suffered through lecture by Unhinged Mother Figure yesterday on reasons am failing at kitten-mothering. Am happy to have ignored UMFs advice and found that own kitten-mothering tactics have paid off and Reluctant Kitten now finds litterbox to be suitable substitute for v. expensive, destroyed wool shag rug. Finally. Expensive Kitty Doctor cashed check yesterday. Am poor. V. poor.

As for J…well, have been in constant contact again for last few days. J is flirting shamelessly like he used to. Am trying not to think about it. Will see him at party that am hosting on Saturday night. Hope stress-induced complexion issue clears by then, though not likely to. Bother. Am too old for these ridiculous insecurities.

Damn it all. Got on scale again. Hope does not become addiction. Have plenty of vices as it is without strange compulsion for weighing self.

Was up long before dawn…not by choice (although am becoming more of a morning person). Reluctant Kitten seems to be finding no use for litter box and instead has claimed white shag rug at bedside for toilet purposes. Woke up to not-so-nice smell and flash of fluff darting under bed. Gross. Am finding many new, inappropriate nicknames for Reluctant Kitten. Perhaps should not share so many of them with her as am shocking her delicate sensibilities. Should have thought of that, though, before soiling $300 area-rug, hmmm?

Walked home from work last night with eyes half shut — blinding headache, setting sun, foul mood residue from day’s work. Didn’t see J until he’d called out several times. Was surpised to see him as am not usually crossing paths with work-day-J (must have been on his way home from haircut, as looked all neat and trimmed). Stood on sidewalk for several seconds before recognizing him. J waved me over and offered a lift. Didn’t want to say yes… looking as bad as I did. Do not wear foul mood residue well. Bad color on me. Like mint green. But headache (and dizzying J smell) won over and let him drive me home. Went in after short dialogue, prepared meal of salad, multi-vitamin and two sleep aids and brought day to official close long before 8 pm. Was lovely sleep until kitten shit incident.

Am horrible kitten mother.

New living situation presents one v. annoying problem.

Roommate owns scale. Never had one before as can easily become panicked by irritating, pulsing digital numbers announcing my sins of gluttony (suffer from great affinity for M&Ms). Have tried ignoring its existence, but was overcome with curiosity this morning after stepping out of not-nearly-long-enough shower. So, tried to make friends with white, blockish digital scale. Cooed and coddled cold, horrible enemy of self esteem and finally (after squeezing all water from hair, as adds unneccessary poundage), tapped scale with toe and waited for the red zeros to halt in their blinking. Stepped up, ready to smash beast with blowdryer or other small, yet threatening appliance, and to utter shock, was at acceptable weight. Am satisfied. Will never have to weigh self again. Should not have to face such apprehension on regular basis. Am amazed people own them on purpose. Horrid things.

Am sure irritability is only enhanced by fact that newly-acquired Reluctant Kitten seems to be paranoid skitzophrenic. Am used to having relatives in such predicament, but was hoping kitten would be somewhat normal. Am taking many deep breaths. Kitten will love me.

Eventually.

Was thwarted by J in my attempt to leave DVD at home. Clever bastard picked me up. Came in to make acquaintence of Reluctant Kitten, walked right over to bookcase and retrieved movie. Curses!

Am far too tired to neurotically dissect J-standing these days. Was calm event. Watched favorite movie, J got stoned. Normal “us” things. Feel v. strange ambivalence towards J as of late. Is product of his, am certain. Am just tired of not getting what I want, if am going to be honest. Am reasonably attractive fish. (Above average in most but cleavage department. Have reconciled self to that.)
Am used to winning over desired bicycle (and then not wanting it — is illness, I know)… and J is just not obliging.

Would be much easier being in relationship where am adored by bicycle. Or at least noticed. Used to catch J looking at me for no reason. Now, barely get his attention at all. Used to wonder if maybe gaining/losing weight caused shift in attraction factor. But must admit, J has simply changed his mind. Suppose should just accept unfortunate metamorphosis and move on. Will eventually.

But not yet.

Had wonderful weekend!

Much love to the Big Apple, to Dennis Rodman look-a-like at door of club and to the startlingly attractive Transvestite who announced to line of club-goers that he/she loved my (very tricky, Indian beaded) top which was clever enough to pull off hours of dancing in. Congratulate myself and also gal pal for having engineering skills adequate to tie the backless, barely-there top into place.

Got phone call from J as was leaving City. He was surprised to hear that yours truly wasn’t in town. Hmmm. Surprised? Don’t see how as told him half a dozen times was going to go. Blame forgetfulness on the drugs, says girlfriend. Will do. J emailed me this morning, wanting to see me. “Would love for you to come over tonight if you’re not busy.” AM busy. Am taking newly-acquired, frightened and v. sick kitten to Expensive Kitty Doctor tonight. “Stop by after, if you want.” Am wondering what the catch is. Perhaps J really does want to see me. Or perhaps just wants favorite DVD to borrow. Am feeling resentful. Will purposefully forget to take DVD along.

Am worried about sick kitten. Poor thing. UMF assures me that am very good at playing nurturing, mothering role and all will right itself soon. Feel slightly better. Is nice to think of oneself as good nurturer… could have been nurse if could stand needles and such.

Am throwing party this weekend. Hope guests bring alcohol as am pretty certain after Expensive Kitty Doctor takes his cut, am going to be very poor.

Am currently being lectured by Unhinged Mother Figure on issues of responsibility. Irony is a sweet, sweet treat. Is driving me nuts about not owning proper, adult furniture. And now wants me to go home and retrieve dog that have had since was 13 and import the poor, old thing to current city. Am not equipped to take in arthritic, ailing canine — would break what is left of this heart as well if said elderly dog were to expire on my watch. If am going to get cat, says UMF, can certainly take dog. Hmph.

A. put up curtains last night. Took no time at all. Also took no time at all for roommate and A to become mutually, and emphatically charmed with one another. Age-difference will prevent anything more than mutual attraction, but was v. sweet. However, am a wee bit put off. Even envious. Am used to having A. follow ME with puppy-dog like adoration. Is very nice bicycle. Will have to find one like that. Only older.

Made no effort, except telepathically (see ESP Conversation below), to contact J yesterday. Nor did yours truly do so today. Am very proud of self — and slightest bit lonesome, if compelled to be completely honest. Is not as noticeable, though, as am very busy with new and improved job situation. Been desgining half-assed publications for hours. Love getting caught up in semi-creative efforts.

Had startling conversation with Unhinged Mother Figure (UMF) this morning. Is really quite unconscionable to be required to address such serious topics as “Mom, please get a divorce” and “Please take medication” all before lunch. But did so quite valiantly. Was told by UMF that it was “nice to hear such mature reasoning.” Yes, well… have had loads of time to think it over and discard not-so-mature ideas.

Am looking forward to spending weekend in BigCity with gal pal, drinking, dancing, indulging in anything but bicycle riding. J will be in the great-out-of-doors with well, don’t know with whom. Am quite sure, though, will be with all burly males who, having met yours truly, will bring to light the error of his ways. And then will, on Monday, receive the ever-so-necessary “let’s start again” email.

Hmmm. Yes, this is it. Have gone off deep end of rational thought and am flailing about waters of the completely unhinged. Good thing am terrific swimmer.

ESP Conversation with J:

H: Hi J… where’ve you been lately?
J: …
H: I’m going to stop calling you with my mind if you refuse to answer.
J: …
H: Once last chance, buster!
J: ….
H: Oh, I suppose I could hold on the line a while. American Idol isn’t on for another couple hours…

Hooray!
Am now in possesion of new corner office space and unattractive, yet comfortable (and v. ergonomically correct) chair.

J: Things are looking up for you.
H: At least work-wise.
J: What does that mean?

Did not explain to him, of course. Never do. Is my own fault for being so accommodating — this is clear. Am not likely to change, though, as is personality trait. Simply must find bicycle who will not take advantage of said willingness to forbear. Isn’t completely unpleasant being such a glutton for punishment, afterall.

Parents still traveling, resulting in near-complete lack of communications. V. nice. Have decided, after careful consideration, that cannot completely divorce family. Instead will seek some sort of “amicable separation” (the kind enjoyed by those like Angelina & Billy Bob Thorton, or the pre-divorce Nicole and Tom). These sorts of things often do end in divorce, returning of blood vials and swapping of children (irreconcilable differences, of course), but am counting on Mid-Life Crisis Nightmare Mother and Neo-Alcoholic Cheating Father to get selves un-fucked up in timely fashion.

One must cling to hope.
And belief in Easter Bunny.

Am renting bike from work to fix curtain problem.

A. actually volunteered, seeing my distress over situation. Have been singing his praises ever since. Quite a nice gesture, do think. After Thursday evening, should have curtains on windows and one less thing to be anxious mess about.

Fighting parents are in the same city at this exact moment. Most romantic city in world, supposedly. Perhaps they should not inhabit it together as will muddy reputation of fine Western European city forever. There will be lawsuits, disappointed lovers and irate travel agents for years to come. Couldn’t be prevented, though. Simply giving the French one more reason to hate Americans.

Conversations with J have centered around… well, nothing more than meaningless chit chat. Had resolved not to contact him, but had no choice as needed roommate’s property back. TOMORROW, will not contact him. New resolve.

Hmmph.

A very enlightened character in movie once said of men, “They can make you feel like fine china one minute, and an old penny the next.“

Today, I am feeling like an old penny. I must preface this by saying, any bit of common sense inherent in my family was genetically passed on to younger siblings. Eye hand coordination? Completely lacking. Instinct needed to perform simple, routine tasks? Clearly not present in yours truly. And thus, I was counting on J’s promise to do a chore for me. Yet, last night, after entire month of waiting for that promise to be fulfilled I, got tired of waiting and attempted to perform the task myself. It was a MISERABLE failure.

I’m personally not able to hang curtains. I was almost in tears over inability to complete simple task (Gal Pal, upon seeing distress has promised to ask brother to help. God love her) and I’m cursing J for his lack of dependability. This was not always the case. I could have counted on him for any number of silly things, and have come to conclusion that A) either I am not on his priority list as I once was or B) I’m not to take it personally, as increased narcotic abuse will simply do that — in which case, I ought to be more worried, rather than less. But in midst of the curtain disaster, I decided it was option A, and felt miserable. It’s not so bad missing curtains from one’s bedroom. Though, changing in bathroom is sort of inconvenient, and odd sleeping where entire neighborhood can see (especially in the event that one’s nightie slides up during night, exposing the underwear of choice. Or lack of).

Overall, not having curtains is not so horrible. But being unimportant to someone about whom I care desperately, is. It’s very bothersome.

Used to feel like his fine china. Now I  am his old penny. Good for when he needs exact change (comfort, pat on back, ego boost), but otherwise, of little value.

Am looking forward v. much to going on vacation.

I’m going to have evening without the bicycle tonight, I’ve decided. Not that it’s extremely difficult to do so. I’ll simply turn off my cell phone. Ok. No, I will not. But I will at least put it in the other room. Wine, hot bath, pedicure and a silly girl movie should do the trick. It must seem like my life is completely unstable. In family department, it’s probably v. close to true. But, I must say, do have wonderfully lovely friends, and though J can be quite a complication, he is probably one of the best-intentioned people. Always willing to lend aid. And THC enhanced support. God love ‘im.

I have decided to ask J if we are going to permanently settle into “just friends” pattern so as to free myself to fuck up more potentially beneficial relationships because of an irrational devotion to him. I’d wait a hundred years if knew that’s what he wanted. So pathetic. I’m aware of this. But I’m also quite aware that there is no one else like him out there. I’ve looked. I’ve been trying to replace him for a very long time and would be more successful at it, if that was actually what I wanted. Alas.

Ultra gay, v. wonderful friend M said once, “H, if I liked girls, I’d be in love with you.” Proving, once again, that any man with taste is, indeed, gay.

I fainted the first time J kissed me.

Ok, I didn’t faint exactly. But nearly. My face got so hot, knees so weak and head so light that I had to sit down on nearest flat surface. Which happened to be the bed. How handy. I blamed this sudden inability to remain vertical on cocktails. In truth, I had been sipping same cocktail for last hour thinking, ‘stay sober. you will want to remember this.’  My irrational fit of dizziness did not phase J who leaned in closer and noted, “You have a freckle on your lip.” Oh, indeed. I DO have freckle on bottom lip, and J’s charm in pointing it out only added to dizzy spell. On a big, soft bed with walking, talking, made-for-This-Fish Chemistry Set, I don’t remember having any thoughts except several on how pleasant fainting had become.

When beautiful J’s hand found the string of v. scanty thong, and did not move further, I thought (apparently out loud) what a gentleman of bicycle was making out with. “Don’t worry. I won’t go where I’m not invited.”  I wanted to show other unique places on body with freckles, but did not (though J found one on ear also to his liking). I’m a good girl. Did not do any inappropriate inviting at time. Kicking myself now.

And feeling faintish now… must go for walk and think about uninspiring things. Like work. Monkey job. Ah, there. Back to reality.

Did not get hug. Got shot of Jamaican Rum. Sometimes, J’s brand of sympathy is a nice change. Went to bed drunk, and woke up feeling much better.

Received email from Unhinged Mother Figure requesting sympathy for father’s new health issues. “Call him to chat. He sounds really down.”

Well, let him be really down. *sigh*

Life is one of those horrid daily television shows.

The Neo-Alcoholic Father is now cheating on mother, I’m told. Indeed. And not simply with other woman. With anyone who will take him, the bastard. Unhinged Mother Figure does not know. No one does, in fact, excepting myself and Smart Assed Sibling. Fuckwits. Mother. Father. All of them. I’m done with family except for my sisters. Must keep them around.

I need consolation of some sort. A hug would be nice. I feel completely let down by male sex, having been under the impression for last twenty something years, that father (daddy) was the man by which to measure all others. The one to whom no one would be good enough for yours truly. Well, fuck that. Can find 50 who won’t let me down half as badly.

Feel so lost. SO lost. Trying to absorb myself in my job. Shame that a monkey could do my job. Must find other ways to consume time.

I had a lovely day with J on Sat engaged in sadly, very friend-like activity. He’s very handy, my J. Though gal pal notes that no man spends hours at manual labor for a woman he does not want, I am not completely inclined to agree.

J shared that ex relationship disaster could not list three things she (obviously a very horrid woman) liked about him. Is it pathetic that yours truly could list three hundred? I’ve begun sorting out whether I could survive simply being pals with J. and I’m not convinced that I could. I don’t want to smother most of my pals in kisses the way I do J. That would make for awkward friendships.

I’ve started missing those days when he wanted to see me, or got antsy when he didn’t receive an email from me every quarter of an hour. Would love to blame this change on increased use of narcotics. Though, that is a real problem and will also have to be addressed completely separately from this current being in love problem. I find myself wishing J looked as delighted to see me as an ounce of dried leafy green substance or a pile of white pills.

He hasn’t bothered to email in 2 days.

Stopped dating C because I could not stand idea of being with someone who was not J. Now I realize, after two successive C-like dating disappointments, I’m a lost cause. Will die alone. It will be a short, peppy funeral, though. Promise.

I did eventually send J details of this latest trial. Male sympathy is amusing in that it nearly lacks sympathy altogether, but it is quite practical. I don’t know whether it’s blind affection for anything J-related or not, but I did feel much better by end of the afternoon.

I spent evening engaged in manual labor which succeeded in focusing mind on things completely unrelated to drinking father, heartless mother or the darling and elusive J.

Must do that more often.

I am suddenly in middle of yet another personal crisis and must say, I am quite tired of being part of my genetically-assigned family. Father of said family, ‘recovered’ alcoholic of 30-some odd years, has apparently headed back to the bottle after discovery that  his wife of 25 years requests separation and, “never loved him.”

My first inclination is to send aching message to J in search consolation of some sort. But I’m v. aware that J is on the frantic side of busy and would not be source of comfort that I am seeking. Disappointed even before the attempt. Should I give him more credit, maybe? I’d love for him to say, “Hey, let’s go for a ride. Take your mind off things for a bit” or to offer no more than really great J hug. Not likely to get either though, as he has band practice every night this week.

Find myself foolishly wishing I was a set of drums.

Gal Pal wisely noted, “Really all you want is to fall into his very masculine arms…..however, if you were a set of drums….how would you accessorize?”

I’m certain I would find a way. Even as a drum. I’ve got a knack for that sort of thing.

Just received an email from J. Dare to answer with current state of affairs?

I have survived another birthday.

Had dinner with only the best of friends at cozy, don’t-have-to-rush ethnic restaurant. J brought flowers. They were lovely; I was quite surprised. Not surprised that they were lovely–surprised that he brought them, rather. Got rather tame body piercing, which J says is hot…though he’s yet to see it. Haven’t seen him since the stabbing…er, piercing. Haven’t seen him in nearly a week, come to think of it.

Had wanted him to meet Smart Assed Sibling when she was in town. Didn’t call him, though, as I felt sheepish about imposing. I was quite delighted when he was disappointed that did not. I would not have been pestering him, he said. Always wonder about my limits with that one. I’m at this moment willing self not to email him. Was first to do so yesterday. Though, he did say emails from yours truly were singular bright spot in his day.

Nice to be bright spot in anyone’s day, though particularly J’s.

Will be seeing J for dinner tomorrow night…shamefully, at my invite. All reason says to abandon the J Project and spend time on other, more worth-while pursuits (field hockey, quilting, or acquisition of miscellaneous body piercings). However, emotion and reason being two very different things, it simply cannot be helped. Also  it cannot be helped that I am still quite in love with said Project.

J does not NOT want me (has been established quite beyond doubt), yet clearly does not want yours truly exactly enough to make any needed adjustments. I’m turning out to be very sad story. Pathetic.

Would be quite another thing if J would simply say, “I don’t want you.”  Then Icould cry for a good long (very long) time and never date again. What would be the point?

Can tell I’m facing another birthday.

It might have been big mistake kissing J.

And, then again, it might not have. But I will do my utmost to neurotically dismantle and re-live said moment over and over. Dissecting it will not change the ultimate outcome, nor help my neurosis, but it will take mind off work… so I am thus being paid to obsess.

Will add said skill to my resume.

(I’m convinced this is genetic problem. Imagine I will seek help in my early thirties.)

Am fighting hangover as spent a good part of the day drinking bloody marys with gal pals.

Must add that not 15 minutes after previous confession of insanity, J did call. Not only did he call (good) but wanted to get together (very good). Though we are not acutally “dating,” did feel compelled to kiss him when he dropped by. Couldn’t be helped. Simply adore kissing him and since I have gone so long without doing so, felt that had I earned it.

J is back from holiday. Though, yours truly wouldn’t know from any contact or anything.

Have checked airline arrivals. Yes, I am indeed sick.

Had a dream about J last night in which life was perfect. Knew just then it was indeed a dream. Even went on goodfaith date last night with C. Nice enough, but just too different of temperments. His = very nice. Mine = in love with other man. Poor soul has been calling all day. Bless the caller ID.

Have spent 20 something years without J in my life. Why is it that facing even the next couple of months without him seems so… daunting?

Made it a ritual of sorts to search for his smell on the bed after he’d gone. J always smelled nearly edible – the cologne he’d wear, clearly knowing how edible it made him. He stopped smelling of it a month or ago and I took it as the first sign of the unraveling of us. It’s not so dramatic as all that. Disappointing, sure. Perhaps if it were more dramatic, more definitive, then could move on. But am instead, still waiting… with someone else on the line. C is bright, funny, thoughtful, dependable. Broody, perhaps? Maybe too serious. Have a hard enough time being too serious myself. But in all other respects, a better match, on paper. Love J for his irresponsibility. And hate it, too.