The Flood

Last night I dreamed about a flood. A huge, sweeping flood filled with debris that swept me and whoever else away and lasted for days and days. This was a flood of biblical proportions. I don't remember dying in my dream, just a huge sense of fear and hopelessness.

I rarely remember my dreams, so this occurrence is fairly significant in my mind. This morning when I got to work I immediately consulted a couple of online dream dictionaries. Here's what they had to say:

Dreammoods.com:

Flood
To see a raging flood with its muddy debris, represents emotional issues and tension. Your repressed emotions are overwhelming you. Consider where the flood for indications of where in your waking life may a situation be the source of stress and tension.

Dream Central's Dream Dictionary:

Flood
If the flood was gentle and the water clear you will soon see an end to all the worries that have been plaguing you about a certain matter. but if the water was angry and muddy this denotes that you will have great trials and tribulations in life. If the water does not drown you, you will eventually win out over your adversaries. If you are swept away by the flood, then that is a warning that someone is trying to use you.


In all cases, a flood is not a good thing to dream about. It occurred to me then that the last couple of times I went out drinking I ended the night as an emotional wreck. I rarely get sick anymore when I go out and I'm rarely sloppy. In fact, mostly I'm a happy, silly drunk. So breaking down for no apparent reason on both Thursday and Sunday was a little strange for me. Now in the context of this dream I'm a little concerned.

I'm always the strong one in my family, the rock, the glue that holds us all together. I am the responsible one, the mature one, the well-balanced one. I'm always the one who handles things well. So when I had several huge life changes at the end of last summer, I held it together yet again. Someone very close to me came out as a drug addict and went into detox. That same week I ended it with my boyfriend of two and a half years and moved out of the apartment that I loved and into my friend B's bedroom until we could install doors on the empty dining room in her house. Then the one who admitted she was a drug addict tried to kill herself. I won't bore you with all the details, but let me just stress that my entire life changed in a matter of weeks, and it was very scary in theory. I was strangely calm through all of this turmoil, and an outsider would probably have thought I was a little heartless watching the way I changed my closest relationships so easily. I couldn't even make myself cry that much. In retrospect I knew I was trying desperately to hold onto my sanity so I could still be that strong woman who could handle anything.

Trouble is, I never dealt with any of this. By the time things were a little more calm and smoothed out, I kinda convinced myself I was over all of it and that there was nothing left to work through. I guess that wasn't the best idea, as now apparently I have completely repressed my emotions and they only surface when I am a.) really drunk or b.) asleep. And now I'm trying to invoke a completely new life change by finding a great job and moving away from this city, and I'm scared again.


Maybe I need a therapist. I don't think I want a therapist, but I don't think that I'm handling my issues at all anymore, just plowing through them. And while that may make me look strong and capable, it really makes me weaker in the end.

Pyscho Stalker V-day

As I sit here working my way through a large bag of reese's peanut butter cups and hershey's kisses and wondering why it is single people always get chocolate on Valentine's Day, I am struck once again by the irony of my life.

It's not enough that I am single on Valentine's Day. That I can deal with in all the appropriate stupid depressed girl ways (see "bag o'cellulite" above). My plan tonight was, and still is, to go rent a sappy movie, drink a bottle of wine and eat too much ice cream. Being alone is kinda sad, but sad I can deal with. Psycho I cannot.

Yes, that's right. Possibly Psycho has turned into Definitely Psycho. I have been so completely caught off-guard by his psychotic tendencies that I have no idea how to handle him. When I wrote my last post on Monday, he had called once and left a message. That night, I received five missed calls, only one with a message, all from him. There was also a call from a restricted number. Definitely him. These calls commenced at 8:30 and did not stop until 1:30 in the morning. Even still, I thought, ok, he has probably really embarrassed himself this time He'll realize how psycho he is being and back off.

Oh no, my friends, this was not to be. Last night at 8:00 he called again, very nonchalant on his message this time, just wanting to know what I was doing this week, and if I wanted to get together. Almost as though he had blocked the memory of making 6 previous calls in the last 24 hours. WTF!!!

I am a little scared at this point. However, nothing could compare to the warm fuzzy feeling I got in my heart when I woke up this morning, alone on V-Day, to see that my persistent little friend had called me five consecutive times at 2:30 a.m. Oh, how sweet. He really know how to show a girl he cares.

I called him back this morning and told him never to call me again. He seemed surprised, almost offended, that I would "lead him on." I told him me and my ex got back together in hopes of deterring his little drunk dialing sessions. What fun on Valentine's Day!

I have the feeling I haven't heard the last of Psycho. Maybe if I run into him again I'll be so ginormous from all the chocolate I'm eating today that he will run away.

To be the hunter or the hunted. Or both.

The Crooner has not called. I'm beginning to be numb by this sequence of events, and more than a little bitter. Here's the deal: Every weekend I go out. Every weekend I meet one boy who I manage to fall in love with, and one who manages to fall in love with me. The problem lies in that they are not the same boy. Now I don't know what's going on here, but I feel like I'm living in the bitter cynic world of The Rules of Attraction, where no one can ever know anyone else and we are all destined to live in bad bitter love triangle forever. I'm not that upset that one guy didn't call, don't get me wrong.

First of all, I'm upset with the guys I fall in love with. Cute, smart, funny guys like Steelers fan, who I met out on Friday. Financial analyst, upper-crust Pittsburghian who is a total jock and down to earth. He just moved here and I told him I could show him around. We talk, we flirt, I MAYBE made out with him some, and then: nothing. He gave me his number( I believe this is a cop-out, forgive me if I'm wrong) and he tells me to call him sometime when I want to take him to a museum. I called him with my number right after, so that he has it, but I still have that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that he will not call. And maybe I should call. And maybe I'm being judgmental thinking that the man should be the pursuer because he is the one who really wants to pursue and a girl calling, especially the first call, is just desperate. Maybe I am being paranoid, but I don't think so. Doesn't the man want to be the chaser? Case in point (actually, cases):

The reason I was out on Friday was to meet up with and attempt to remember Jersey boy from last weekend. Who btw, turned out to not be from New Jersey, but here. And, he was short, and also just rude.

K.S. and I went back to the far side of town this past Friday. And this might not seem far to you, but 25 min. is hella far to drive in this town. I wanted to meet up with Jersey Boy and see what he was like in a more sober state of mind. When we arrived the bar was already packed. We waited for a drink for 20 minutes and some girl spilled her drink all over the back of my pants. I could tell it was a good idea we had come there.

Not.

I texted him to find out where he was after we had migrated to the back, and of course he replied that he was at the bar. I was a little hesitant to go up there and look for him because I literally thought I wouldn't recognize him, but I sucked it up and started my way up there. Seeing him made me realize why I should never meet people drunk. And it's not that he was all that bad looking, I just had a completely different mental image in my head about what he should look like. Which in itself is bad. So he went to the bathroom while K.S. and I spot an empty table and he has us take his coat over with us to snag the table. Here's where the rudeness comes in: He has his friend (a girl, btw) come over and say that she's leaving and left her coat in the car so Jersey Boy wants her to take his. Thinking nothing of it, I hand it over, not realizing this is his way of ditching us! Unbelievable.

However, I shortly after meet Steelers Fan which is fine. The worst part about Jersey Boy? He actually showed back up at the bar about 1:30 looking for me so he could try and convince me to come home with him. What a sleeze.

Why do all the shady dudes fall for me? Seriously, I would like to know. Do I exude a vibe of "I am damaged goods, so please try and use me?"

So here comes Saturday. My college roomate's boyfriend just broke it off with her, so she needed me to come to Northern VA to take her out and take her mind off of her ex. It was karaoke night, so you know it was going to be bad. Although I did sing "Strong Enough," by Sheryl Crow, which was actually a good song for me. And "Build Me Up Buttercup", of course. While out I meet a guy who I'll call, "Possibly Psycho."

I don't like it when guys I first meet are all over me. In my opinion, hand holding, putting your arm around me, etc. are things reserved for girlfriends or potential girlfriends. Possibly Psycho started them within 2 minutes of meeting me. At first I was just thinking he was a sweet talker, saying all those things the players say. Then there was some weirdness with his bill , which happened again later that night. I think he is possibly a clingy little liar who doesn't pay his bar tabs. He kept talking about "all the chemistry we had together," and "Is this real, seriously? Because I really like you and I am always honest and I really want to get to know you."

I gave him my number, partly because I thought he could have just been drunk and partly because I do not know how to say no to people. And of course, he called! The crazy ones always call.

I'm just feeling a little overwhelmed right now. I wish I could be happy with being single and meeting tons of guys but it all seems a little fake to me, whether I'm being the fake one and flirting back with a guy like Psycho who I will never call, or someone is talking to me all night with no intentions of calling. I can't get that mad at the non-callers, because I do it too! I just wonder when I'll find someone who doesn't have to try so hard to be cool, and who I don't have to try and be cool for. Because even if there is mutual attraction, I feel like all the games and rules that must be followed, lest you end up looking psycho, always trip me up. My phone is full of the numbers of men who I don't care about but who want me, and men who I want but who won't answer if I call.

I'm not sure who I should be giving chances to and who I should just keep so I know not to answer. Should I be pursuing or sitting back and waiting? If waiting, when does it become okay to initiate contact as if to show a little interest?

You'd think I was in middle school for God's sake.

Karaoke Nights

I love karaoke.

Going up on stage in public and singing is one of those things I could never do throughout all my years of being in chorus in school. Normally, I'm a decent singer. No doubt, I sound better in my shower and in my car, by myself, than I ever would in front of another human being, but I still have a pretty good voice. The problem is, whenever I would get up to audition for solos in middle and high school some other person's voice would just come out of my body. I know that you are supposed to use the adrenaline to help you focus, but I would just freeze. When auditioning for duets or group solos, I shone. I have an ability to mimic the tone and quality of others' voices when they sing with me, which means I can blend really well.

Alcohol numbs my adrenaline nerves and gives me the courage to bring out that awesome singer. Thus, karaoke.
1.) I am not in a room full of professionals, so I sound good by comparison
2.) I can showcase the good qualities of my voice by picking songs that are right for me.


And yet, I suck at karaoke. Drinking does not a singer make. And all that courage combined with memory loss and pacing problems means that last night I decided that singing "There are worse things I could do" at 12:00 a.m. was a good idea. Oh yes, I rocked out to Grease. By far the worst song choice ever....here are some rules that I should have followed for drunk karaoke:

1.) Pick a song you know like the back of your damn hand.
2.) Do not choose a song that normally challenges your range. Drunk in a smoky bar means your range is about 2 octaves lower than normal
3.) Do NOT partner up with someone else who sucks. I know you have to be brave to go it alone, but the other person WILL throw you off.
4.) Of course, this is all if you care about sounding decent. Since I care far too much about what others think, blowing the haters off is not an option for me.
5.) Pick something peppy for Christsakes!

I used to sing "Criminal" by Fiona Apple, which I love and know very very well, but it's depressing! People can't sing along to it and they stare at you like you are bitter and they can't wait for the damn song to be over. So mu new standby is "Build me up Buttercup." Easy song, fun, and you have the added bonus of backup singers who love you just because you're singing their song.

Also, I met a guy last night at karaoke. The Crooner was not the cutest guy ever (still attractive, but he was no Beautiful Boy) , but gainfully employed at a professional job, homeowner, and could sing out some Sinatra. I love men who can sing. Too old for me (34) but I am trying to be open about that. He has my number, so we'll see if he calls...........

A Night to Forget

Friday night. One of those nights that you wish would just be erased from the timeline of history, and that every person you ran into was just as drunk as you and wishes the same thing. In my case, I'm hardly this lucky. I woke up Saturday morning wondering where I was, and was forced to ask for a recap from my friend K.S. Let me break it down for you...

It started when I made plans to go to happy hour with Biker Boy, who I hadn't seen since way before Christmas. We had decided to try and be friends, which I'm pretty sure judging from his phone conversations of the last few days really meant he was going to try and win me back. I was bent and determined that this would not happen. After all, this guy had run me around so many times I thought I must be clinically insane for continuing to speak with him. The last time before this we had spoken was three weeks after he disappeared from the planet, coming up with a probably bogus hospital story. So happy hour. I thought I could handle it, the friends thing, but I was extremely nervous, and upon seeing him realized I was not over him. At all. It didn't help that he complimented me on how beautiful my eyes were, how he liked my shirt (low-cut, on purpose. I mean, I had to let him know what he was missing out on, right? And yes, I know that's not a friend thing to do.) And although it was very cliched, I believe that he meant those things. Needless to say, I needed a very big drink, and went through 4 skinny pirates in less than an hour. Probably not the best idea. We caught up and were having a good time, until he dropped this bomb on me:

him: So all my friends are trying to set me up with people. There's this girl who is really cool and mature for her age (20), but I just don't know.

Me: you know, I don't know whether I can talk to you about this. But for the record, 20 is very young.

him: why, because you're still in love with me?

Me: who said I was ever in love with you? (look of a liar spreads across my face) anyways, don't be so arrogant.

Him: I was just kidding. This is why I like being single. You don't have to deal with the bullshit of relationships. Like if we have plans now and something comes up, we're friends so it's not a big deal. But before, you would give me the third degree.

Me: That's because you stood me up. You have no idea what it's like getting ready and being all excited about a date, only to have everything fall apart. Besides that, for the record I don't stand my friends up.

Him: I just don't want to have to answer to someone. You'd think, what with my ex cheating on me, that I would be paranoid, but I'm not. If whoever I'm dating cheats, they'll get caught. She could go out all night and I wouldn't care as long as she was coming home to me.

Me: I get what you're saying, but that kind of trust has to be earned. And you don't earn it by standing someone up the first few times you hang out.

So. I wish Biker Boy had exchanged this little tidbit of information with me when we first started dating. Might have saved some time and effort and feelings, because I don't really want to be with someone exactly like my ex (i.e. I do what I want) again. Am I wrong in thinking that a 30 year old man has no business going out and partying all night without so much as a "where have you been, honey?" to answer to? It seems like he just wants someone to walk all over, and that can't be me. Unfortunately the 4 drinks told me otherwise, and I tried to extend our happy hour, which he denied. Not sure if this was because he knew I was drunk, realized I was more complicated than what he wanted and our viewpoints were drastically different, or he was genuinely tired, but either way. We hugged, I left, and that was it. Although he did pay... Biker Boy's mixed signals just spell trouble. I needed to meet someone new, and fast.

Back at home, I was contemplating the rest of my boring evening with dread, and then I heard from an old high school friend of mine, K.S. Yay! I am not utterly pathetic spinster! I have a couple of glasses of wine, and then go out to the bar...and this is where blackout girl comes in. K.S. and I do a few shots, and a few skinny pirates later I am pretty much gone. Sequence of events:
1.) We get a pool table. Tattooed guy plays with me and K.S. and Redheaded Boy, another high school friend. Small girl, roomate of tattooed guy, tries to fight us and take over the table, claiming "this is her house, bitches." K.S. and I laugh in her face.

2.) We inexplicably stop by a house party with nothing but underage kids. I try to play flip cup and am terrible, K.S. and I are kicked off the table. I try to sit down and fall off the chair onto my face. We leave.

3) Fall again on the way down the stairs. Decide more alcohol is not the best idea. Actually, K.S. and Redhead decide.

4.) Go to another bar. Events are very blurry here. I can't even remember if I drank. Probably one, according to K.S. I run into a guy I used to go to high school with, who has lost a lot of weight. Proceed to be the girl who probably wouldn't have looked at him twice in high school, but now am infinitely fascinated with his life. Yeah, you can call me a bitch. Also talk to a Jersey boy who I can't remember whether he is good looking or not. I am handing out my number left and right. Slick, right?

5.) Dance by myself while K.S. talks to Chris Porter from Last Comic Standing. Leave, and immediately get a call from Jersey Boy claiming he wants to hang out on Saturday. Yeah, lemme tell you how many times he's called.

6.) Drop redheaded boy off. Go to Sheetz and am recognized by the little brother of a boy I used to date in high school. He's not looking the best, even to my drunken self. I still get his number. Go home with K.S. Pass out.

Needless to say, I have laid low for the rest of the weekend...

I am wondering what the consensus is about a girl going out alone. It's Friday afternoon, and my few available friends are out of town. And yet, the prospect of the THIRD FRIDAY IN A ROW sitting at home alone is almost enough to make me cry sitting here at my desk.

Not looking for a pity party, but I am in serious need of martini therapy. It gets boring sitting at home. BUT I'm not sure about going out alone...can people tell you are alone or do you try to blend? Do you approach others or wait to be approached? What about when approached by super-creepy guys? Are you giving off the wrong impression (i.e. I want to be approached by creepy older men) just by sitting alone at the bar?

Why is it that men can go to the bar alone all the time and no one thinks of it? I would feel incredibly self-conscious, like I was being judged: "Why is she alone? Doesn't she have any friends?"

Clearly the fact that I am debating this in my head and on my computer doesn't bode well.

Thinking about change.....

I'm not sure if anyone reads my blog. I know at least two people who have read it at least once. So I guess that's something.

I've recently joined MySpace, which is intoxicatingly addictive in a way that blogging can never be, because blogging is semi-private(at least in my case) and MySpace is your picture of yourself to the world. You can create your own reality on there, like putting on a different outfit everyday, and your status is determined, not by actual face-to-face skills in interacting with others, but by your ability to self-promote via graphics and photos and clever one-liners. Your popularity is on display for the world to see, via how many friends or comments you have. It's utterly ridiculous, but I am still enthralled with its newness to me and will probably be obsessed with it for awhile.

But enough with waxing intellectual about MySpace. I am here to blog, which feeds my soul a lot more. It's at least a little more "me" than a photo taken at a bar and a quiz about what kind of jellybean I am is. Or who knows, maybe not.

My dating life is atrocious. I went from several mediocre options to none at all in the space of about a week and a half, with no signs of turning back. Much as I complained about the drama, half-hearted efforts, deceitful seductions, at least that was SOMETHING. For the last two weeks, every night, I have been sitting on my sofa watching t.v/reading/checking my MySpace from approximately 5:00 p.m. untill 11:00 p.m. at which time I go to bed alone. My roomate has turned into Ms. Popularity/Ms. I love my awful, boring boyfriend, so she has stopped inviting me out. I think she gets mad because her jerkoff boyfriend hits on me when we go out all together. I know I'm coming off as very arrogant right now, but it is the truth. I have also been dissed by all people I counted as friends(very,very few) inexplicably. I am feeling like most annoying girl in the world.

I need to get laid, as well, but am trying not to think about this as I have finally renounced the one-night stand/first date boom-boom lifestyle. Which sucks, because I'm not even good at holding out. I was dating the most beautiful boy in the world, and everything was going really well until I drunk-dialed him the night after he made me dinner. I ended up at a party with him and his friends and playing beer pong, and then I went home with him. We had the conversation where you talk about how you're not this perfect person, in fact you have all this baggage but it's ok, b/c we both have it and we can talk about it.

And I was a merciless tease all night.

Don't get me wrong, I wanted to do it. And came very close! (sorry if TMI) But for some reason I thought holding out would be better, more special. Turned out teasing him only exasperated him. And he hasn't called me since. I'm just not good at all these games! I thought dating was supposed to be fun, but all I'm getting are mini-breakups over and over. They're like real break-ups, except instead of that long-lasting dull achy-feeling in your stomach you have flashes of intense pain that last for a few days. It's pretty exhausting, actually.

And the fact that I am getting dumped by people who, at the very least, you would say are less than paper-perfect! Let's see, since January 1, I have been blown off by:

* My pretentious pothead ex-neighbor (unemployed, 6th year of college)
* The guy who fixed our furnace when it was broken after Christmas. Yeah. Seriously.
* The hottie who maybe used to have a serious drug problem and is an ex-dealer. He was at least turning his life around though.

These are the ones I meet! And I, a single, attractive, successful, funny, kind girl who is nothing but straightforward and caring cannot do any better, apparently.

So, the other issue with me is that I have very very few friends left here. I know I'm only 23, but all of my close friends have managed to leave to follow boys, or play house, or whatever. And I followed a boy to here too, but it didn't work out. So, long story short, what do I do? Do I stay here, close to my family, never taking a risk, living a very lonely and unsatisfying life?

Or do I leave, try and make it somewhere new, being lonely at first but starting over in a place where no one knows me? It's less embarrassing, for some odd reason, the idea of being lonely in a place like that, rather than in my own hometown. Feels less like failure and more like bravery.

So I'm working on it, sticking my toe in the water, looking for jobs and maybe even apartment searching. Because something big has to happen soon. I can't be resigned to my sofa forever.