Utah: Part 2, The Meantime

I fell in love in Utah...

Wait, I've already said that.  And to be honest, I did, I guess.  I found a guy who I have a great time with, can tell anything to, and I want to live with for the rest of my life....

Tyler Welden.

But love sounds so mushy and gross, because this guy is my life-partner bro, NOT a guy I would date. First of all, he's built like a malnourished sapling.  Secondly...well, that's mainly it, but really, sometimes the magic of a friendship just doesn't translate to romance.

Tyler lived across the hall, with a petite sized couple we would all learn to love we'll call The Penguins. I was there marginally less-annoying Kimmy Gibbler.  Tyler spent all summer listening to the ups and downs of the Opera Guy roller coaster, but it wasn't until our last production of South Pacific that I finally pointed him out to him.

"WHAT?! You've spent all summer obsessing about THAT guy?!  Are you blind and I didn't know it??  You're not out of his league, he's not even playing in the same BALLPARK as you....he's like in a field two towns over...You're not a step above him you are an ENTIRE STAIRCASE!!!  In what world does this guy have ANY girls that like him, let alone multiple?!"

Rants like this are not unusual for Tyler, but this one was particularly funny.  I took it as a compliment instead of a ritual slaughtering of judgement.  Periodically while working our last shows he would text me "Are you serious?" or "I can't get over this. Am I being Punk'd?"  to remind me of my stupidity.

Tyler is also the creator of the slam birthday tradition.  Mr. Penguin was turning 25 that summer, and I got him some of his favorite chocolate as a present. Not to be outdone, Tyler decided to insult him 25 times as his present.  Mrs. Penguin's birthday came and she received the same heartfelt gift.  I would not receive my first slam-birthday present until the following year, when separated by many miles, we decided to take the tradition to Facebook, much to the horror of our well-wishing friends and family, I'm sure.

I made some vague promises to Opera Guy about going to shows and recitals that first quarter back at school, that I never made good on, and he toyed around with visiting, but never really followed through, until it was almost winter, and the summer memories had faded like the antique setting on an Instagram photo.

 He had an audition in Cincinnati.  We would meet during my lunch hour.  So, I skipped lunch and spent the entire hour standing around while he talked to other singers.  I was wearing my favorite green vintage dress and feather headpiece.  He said I looked like a tree.  He didn't mean it in a nice way.  He also joked that design is for people who can't perform.  When I finally went through the double doors that lead to the design wing of the school I stopped for a second, leaning on a handrail, and held back tears.  It was like that day in Utah, but this time I felt like a fool.  I quickly straightened and went back to work.

He texted me later but I did not reply.  Then he asked if I was ignoring him.  I explained precisely how rude he had been, and we left it at that.

Several weeks later I was out with a mutual friend of ours telling him the story and he just shrugged and said "Well, that's Opera Guy."  (but of course he said the guy's name).  I knew that Opera Guy was just blindly inconsiderate, so I texted him and said: I'm not mad anymore.   I'm over it.

No reply, so I went about my life.

Then, one day surprised me by just showing up down in my shop.  I was working on a hat, but I can't remember which one.  He stood there, out of his element, in his audition suit, and asked me if I'd like to go to dinner.

We went to the Thai Cafe where he complained about his lady love from the past summer and how she had cheated on him, and how he had been dealing with that.  I felt somewhat smug, but my heart went out to him.  He seemed so defeated, so unsure.

He asked me to stay with him in his hotel room.  He wasn't going to stay the night, but as if like magic the first snow came and dusted the city in white, so he didn't want to drive the 2+ hours back.  I brought my work with me because that's what you have to do in grad school.  However his constant poking and prodding made for enough of a distraction that I quickly gave up, like a frazzled mother giving in  to an unruly child.

We rolled around the bed a bit and suddenly were in the same position as that night in Utah.

"I can't date you," he said, "I can't date anybody.  I'm so messed up right now and I don't know where I'm going to be...."
"That's okay..." I started, touching his face.
"No, you don't understand.  I don't want to date you now because I don't ever want to not have you in my life.  You are like sunshine.  You let me know that there are truly good people in this world, and I don't want to mess that up."
"Yeah, well, I don't want to date you...ever."
"What?"
"You have so many issues, and you're all hung up on your ex, but even if you weren't you're super high-maintenance, and needy, and inconsiderate, and  I would never want to date you...ever...so can we please just do this?"

That first kiss was like the Fourth of July.  All rockets and light.  But after a while I became bored, and stopped.

"Yeah, thanks for that, I'm over it."
"Are you serious?"
"Yeah, there's no real reason for me to put in the extra work here, and I'm good, so you can just finish yourself, or whatever.  I don't care."
"You are like a dude!  Nobody has ever done that to me!"

And just like that, the power became mine.  I bragged about it to Tyler that NYE when we met up with The Penguins in Chicago.

"You really did win this one.  Also, you're such a dude."  High five.

If only it had ended there.  If only.

Utah: Part One

I fell in love in Utah.

Well, that's not true.  I met a boy, who lingered in my life for a while, of whom I was very fond, who broke my heart a little. Or, more accurately, grossly disappointed me.  That's not love.

The first time I met Opera Guy--as he now shall forever be called--he was dressed as Batman.  Not a Batman costume, mind you, but as a little kid would dress as Batman, in Batman underwear, t-shirt, hat, and cape.  Nothing else.  To be fair, it was a "villains and heroes" themed party.  At said party, he talked to me for a bit, was clearly too drunk to function, and hooked up with my friend...romantic, right?

The second time I met him I was coming over to my friend Ryan's house to watch the old Hobbit cartoon.  There he was on the couch.  Apparently they were roommates.  That's the thing about going away somewhere to work for the summer, what with company housing and all, you never know who'll be living with who. We watched the cartoon, and several other shows, but I can't remember them because Opera Guy and I were talking the whole time.  He made me laugh.

And then I heard him sing.  The performers would do lunchtime performances for the community at the local high school and Opera Guy did a song about a jilted lover that was so impassioned it was almost uncomfortable.  It was like gravel and cellos....or more like the earth had opened up and I was falling down into a pit of sound.

Always in my life, I have held by a principle that everyone needs to have three qualities in order to qualify for dating me.  These are:

1. Smart
2. Funny
3. Talented

Opera Guy now had two of the three.  I discovered he met number one while eating junk food on that same couch where he had fulfilled number 2.  He was a math minor in undergrad...or something like that.  Memories are hazy, I just remember he was exceedingly good at math.  This type of intellectualism intrigues me the most, because I don't have it.  I have words and pictures, but numbers elude me.

Talking about past schooling I shyly mentioned that I had graduated magna and had been valedictorian.  He seemed shocked.

"What, you didn't think I was smart?" I asked, although that is a pretty dumb sentence.
"Not THAT smart."
"Why not, because I sound like I'm from the country?" Let's face it, I'm from small town in Kansas, and I can't really hide it.  Anytime I'm drunk or sleepy a distinct twang creeps into my voice.
"No...."
"Oh my gosh, is it because I do wigs and make-up?!"
"Maybe a little...."
"That is TERRIBLE!  I'm not a cosmetologist or a hairdresser, I'm getting a MASTERS degree, the same as you!"

Terribly offended as I was, he now met all three qualities, and the hidden quality that girls don't like to admit, of being an asshole.

We started hanging out all the time.  We would binge watch TV shows in the afternoons, we  went bowling at night, poked around the mall together on days off, and took egregiously long trips to Wal-Mart--always walking slowly, making comments, and playing with whatever struck our fancy--,followed by leisurely drives around town, listening to Journey and watching the sun slip behind the mountains.

He never made a move.

One night in the car I just blurted out: "Do you have a girlfriend or something?"
"Kind of." He replied.
"Oh." Was all I could manage, looking out of the car window, but the sun was already gone.

Well, there it was.  The thing I had been missing.  He wasn't  awkward and shy, he was trying not to cheat.

It is necessary to mention that his sister died that summer.  Before he came out to Utah he had slept with his best girl friend (friend that is a girl), who had a fiancee.  After his sister was killed in a car accident she flew out to the funeral to be by his side and professed her love.  So they were in love, but he was spending all his time with me.  I was worried this confession would have the effect of making me want him all the more, as everyone has the tendency to want that which is unattainable, but luckily, I was suddenly repulsed.

"Well, I'm glad you told me all this, so I know NEVER to date you."
"But we'll still be friends, right?"
"Oh yeah, why not?" I said, like an afterthought.

So I started treating him like one of my guy friends.  When he'd text me late at night I'd just get bored and stop, or tell him to "bother his girlfriend."  We hung out, but I'd tease him relentlessly.  Even my boss remarked on our shrewd banter.  In the meantime I had a few summer flings, and even took a trip to Vegas.

Then the last party of the summer came.  It was at his place, as most of the parties were.  I was drinking Jack Daniels, which always leads to trouble, and he was totally sober, so he was in charge of driving me home.

"Come see my room, it's finally all clean!" He suggested, even though we both knew that was a bad idea.
"Yeah, because you packed all your stuff!"  I joked, although I felt a weight in my heart.  We had become close, and the thought of him driving away made me want to pour another drink sans mixer.

Once inside he ripped the hat (that my dear friend Marcia had made for me) off my head.  A funny game of trying to get it back ensued, and we ended up on the bed.  We never kissed, but we came so close.  Our noses touching, his breath on my face, his hands wandering the length of me....It was better that way, I suppose.  Like a long drumroll, but the band never starts, or a sharp inhale that's never released, or  maybe a crescendo that's suddenly cut off.  Soon I began to tire, it was nearly four in the morning.  We'd spent all night talking while thinking about kissing but trying not to, and it was exhausting.

"You can't stay here." He grumbled, in that voice like the bass-line of a song.  Soft, and steady.
"Oh, just let me sleep."
"No, if you stay here I can't be a gentleman anymore."

I woke up for our last day of shows in my own bed, like I'd never slept at all, because I barely had.  I texted Opera Guy to bring me coffee, but he merely dropped off the ten dollars he owed me instead.  (We had gone to see the last Harry Potter movie together, and I had bought the tickets….at the end of the night as he dropped me off I kissed him on the cheek, and he had laughed with genuine delight…I think it was almost a giggle.).

  His last show was Don Giovanni, which is particularly long and slow for the make-up crew and ensemble.  Sometimes we played cards--Opera Guy taught me how to play hearts that summer--but I don't know if we did that day.  I was in the tiny, sweltering make-up room washing my brushes when his large form filled the doorway.

"I'm leaving."  He said, the same as he says everything, flat and emotionless.  It's like his voice was too tired to bring the sharp peaks and deep valleys of his singing voice into his everyday speech, so it rested on a monotone.
"Oh, okay, bye.  Have a safe trip!"  I said, not really looking up from my work.
"Come here."
"Al-right."  I said, stretching it into two words. I might even have said it annoyed-ly, but it was an act.  I didn't want to hug him goodbye, that was true, but only because I didn't want to say goodbye at all.

I pressed my cheek into his chest, unable to look at him.  I probably said something like "Take care," or whatever bullshit we say when someone is leaving and there aren't enough words, and then he left.

I calmly went into the bathroom and fought back tears. Oh bathrooms, the safe haven of every respectable girl who's upset.  I looked in the mirror, surprised at this sudden onset of emotion.  I really didn't think I cared for Opera Guy that much, just a passing summer fancy, but his leaving hit me like a hammer to the head; I felt all out of sorts and strangely pained.

Somehow maybe I knew, even then, that it wasn't the end, but merely the first chapter.

When It Rains, It Pours

It's been raining non-stop here in Cinci. Terrible thunderstorms that wake even a heavy sleeper such as myself and make the walk to school precarious. I'm always looking to the sky trying to anticipate the next monsoon.

And so it is with my dating life. No light sprinkle, or full days of sunshine; but clouds and sudden downpours.

I have less than a month left in Ohio, and it seems everyone and their dog wants some of my time.

Last week was show week, so I had to politely defer two guys who were messaging and texting me with a "Sure thing....Next week."

What I really meant: I don't have time for this.

I have WORK to do. I love it. Against all odds I got the Graduate Assistant position for next year and a Mainstage design so I am quite busy with my modicum of success.

Law School wants to non-hypothetically come to visit me while I'm in Utah. We even discussed dates, and he was looking at plane tickets....

Remember that I'd given up dating? Why is everyone making it so difficult for me to stick to that?!

Even at STRIKE for the show, one of our lab students ended up giving me his phone number! I don't know how that happened. Maybe it was that "It's the end of show-week, I'm so tired and I haven't showered in a couple days glow" I had going on.

First off, he's an undergrad. Second, I don't think he could be at all discreet, and everyone already knows far too much about my love life. (I was talking to a first year make-up student who I'd never really spoken to before a couple weeks ago and she said "Oh, you're the girl who had that fiasco with the fake boyfriend!" I about crawled into a hole and died. That is NOT how I want to be known) So, it's not going to happen. Sorry, dude.

However, he did say something that kinda hit me like a punch to the gut: "I think you NEED to go out and have some fun, because you might be turning lame."

Me, lame?

I've been called a lot of things, but never lame.

It's true I've been working long hours and have maybe been to two parties all year, but I attempt to schedule regular "fun" times like Tuesday coffee and Friday Happy Hour....

Oh god, I am lame...

I put quotation marks around the word fun.

Although maybe I should take into account that this guy was trying to talk me into going out with him (albeit not very successfully)....I just think I'm past that whole college partying scene....Now we grads get together and get drunk at a bar, or have a a margarita night at a friend's house, sans vomit and super drunk underage girls making bad decisions. That's not lame, that's just smart. Can't argue with logic.

I've also been trying to be a bit more private. Try not sharing every thought and interaction with the world at large....So far, I think I might kinda like it. Before I started blogging I was excruciatingly private, and I used the blog as a vehicle to be more open with my true feelings...but as time passes and things blow up in my face from nothing more than a simple paragraph, I'm feeling less secure sharing the real parts of myself here for everyone to read. I said when I started this that I was going to say whatever I want, whenever I want, no matter what. If I don't have the desire to do that, what's the point?

I am already packing for Utah, and although all the recent attention is flattering, it just seems like a lot of unnecessary work to start something right now.

My friend Nick said I should just do a casual sex thing.

I scoffed and said I couldn't do something like that.

"Why not?" he retorted, "You need to get laid and anytime someone starts talking about being remotely serious you completely freak out."

"I do not!"

Nick just stared at me skeptically from over his glasses.

He sure does know how to keep things classy.

No, I think I'll just stick to my anti-dating stance. Despite how much everyone seems to enjoy my antics, I'd rather have the last laugh this time around.

So, when it rains, it pours, but that's why I always carry an umbrella.

What's Really Important?

it's tarik i m italian teacher and i would like to have serious relationship with you of course if you don't mind i m romantic man i write sometimes poetry and i hope to be the best on what you are looking for too hope to hear from you news

That is an actual message I got from a guy on Match.com....Now, apparently I attract men who can't even speak English....which would be fine if I were in a foreign country....It's all just so comical.

Okay, let's talk about what a BADASS my Ma is. She started chemo yesterday, and this dumb biz nurse started trying to tell her that her doctors didn't know what they were doing and that she needed to do this and that, and that she didn't have a say because her cancer is so rare and therefore she's special (while patting her condescendingly). Also, everyone had been basically treating her like a rare test specimen, so she brought in her "cancer team" and gave this little gem of a speech:

I am one of 8 sibling, I have 7 brothers and sisters, 6 of them still living. And we are extremely close. You will probably meet a lot of them.

I have a daughter going to grad school in Cincinnati, and she's the best daughter you could ask for, and I need to be able to go see her shows.

I have friends who are like my family and would do anything for me.

I've got a husband who loves me and wants to take me to Hawaii.

I may have a special type of cancer, but I am special to a lot of people.

I know every time you've seen me I've been crying and I've been scared, and I'm still scared, but now I'm pissed.

I will do whatever it takes to get better, but you have to give me that chance.

I'm not used to being out of control like this. I should have a say in my treatment.

I am more than just a rare appendix cancer.

I am Patsy Smith.

I am a PERSON.

And you will start treating me like one.

I teared up as she was telling me this. My Ma is so brave.

I don't know that I'l EVER do something that valiant. That speech could seriously be straight from an epic battle cry.

So, my Ma told off a room full of medical professionals and made them listen to her yesterday. What did I do today?

What did YOU do today?

A couple of us grads got together for coffee and they were complaining about all the BS we have to deal with, and all I could think was "Ya know, we don't have it that bad. Life could be a lot worse."

In comparison boys, school, and even theater seem like silly things to get all worked up over. So I won't. Not anymore.

I'm so damn proud of my Ma I can't get over it.

Short little thing that barely weighs over 100lbs, sick from chemo, and still the toughest broad I know.

Someday maybe I'll be that cool.

Worst Date/Best Life

Had a date with the Science Teacher....oh...dear....lord.

So he TEACHES middle school, but when he showed up I thought he WAS a middle schooler. On-line he said he was 5'7". I usually like tall guys, but I wouldn't pass up a great guy who was small in stature....Well, he lied. He was MAYBE 5'5" at best. He came up to my NOSE (I'm ACTUALLY 5'7"). And he was dressed in oversize jeans, a graphic tee, and a hoodie. I'm sure it looked like I was doing a Big Brothers/Big Sisters program and I was his mentor....or maybe after I finished my quesadilla I'd have him for a snack. I looked like Andre the Giant next to this dude. It was ridiculous.

Which I could've gotten past, had he been really cool, but he was hopelessly awkward. I constantly had to ask him questions like it was an interview, and it was just miserable.

He seemed to like me. He said I had a great personality and was very attractive--which is flattering, I guess--and he's been texting me...He was a nice guy, so I'll try to be a better version of myself and let him down easy....

I'm done. No more dating. Definitely no more Match.com. It's all just too much.

Six weeks from now I'll be heading to Utah for a summer doing what I love in the mountains. Until then I'll be doing what I love here. I don't need to go on any more dates. No time to be wasted on that. I have lots of work to do this quarter that really excites me, and theater has always been my favorite abusive boyfriend. Right now we're "on-again" in our tumultuous on-again/off-again romance, and I couldn't be happier. I'm pushing myself and doing work I'm truly proud of.

I just wish I could talk to someone who would get as excited about it as I do.

Oh well, you win some you lose some right?

Lately I've been winning.

Ever since I decided that I was through trying to make this fiasco they call dating work for me my life has been nothing but sunshine....literally. It is spring in Cincinnati and the trees are in bloom and the air is fresh. I've been spending lots of time with my friends hanging out in coffee shops, eating great food, seeing really awesome local music, walking around my beautiful neighborhood, painting, reading, having great discussions....This weekend my good friend is coming to visit me from Kansas and I'm so excited to show her around my city. It really does feel like MY city now.

I've been appointed the make-up shop representative for our unofficial grad student social committee (aka, I help plan parties into our busy schedules) and it is a position I hold with pride. Traditions like Friday Happy Hour that I helped start have really brought us together like an overworked, rag-tag community. We drink, eat fried food, and vent all our frustrations. I look forward to it all week.

I'm FINALLY going to go to the theater a few blocks from my house this weekend, and I'm going to stay up all night talking with my friend of seven years, AND I'm going to get a well-deserved pedicure for my tired, blistered feet (those vintage shoes were cute, but they bit me). And maybe some new shoes, too (ones that don't want to hurt me).

Does it get any better than this?

The Dating Game

I have a date.

A lunch date with the Science Teacher at Habanero, the restaurant with the awesome tortilla chips a block from my house.

I swear, guys don't know how to ask a girl out anymore.

He asked for my number via Match.com and I complied.

A day later he texts me and asks me what I'm doing. I tell him I'm working on a project. He replies that he'll let me work on that. I thought it was considerate, but not very assertive.

Today he texts me again. Asks me what my plans for Friday are. I tell him my schedule and asks why he wants to know to perhaps push this thing along a bit. Response?

"I think you know why. lol"

Seriously, dude? You're a real smooth operator.

So, I reply with, "We'll yes I have an idea but if you're trying to set up a date just come out with it!"

I quickly sent a follow-up smiley face so it didn't seem quite so bitchy.

And then he said he wanted to meet me at the mall.

I'm sorry, WHAT?

I know you teach middle-schoolers but that doesn't mean you have to date like one! I haven't found it romantic to meet someone at a mall since I transitioned from Tween to Teen.

So we're going to my neighborhood, of course, because I'd hate to be inconvenienced, and I actually am squeezing him into my very hectic schedule this week (hence the lunch date).

The upside to this interaction is that it proved that I am back to my regular, uninvested, take-no-bullshit self. It was rejuvenating. Like filling your lungs with crisp morning air when you first walk outside.

The Engineer and I continue to message each other, but I keep setting him up to ask me out and he keeps stalling.

I have the sneaking suspicion that these guys are on Match because they are unable to function in the social real-world. Therein lies my prejudice. Whilst searching for love on Match.com, in the back of my head I judge every prospect for needing to be on Match.com.....Is that ridiculously unfair or what?

No, you know what's ridiculous? The circus that is trying to date in this day and age.

Dating isn't rocket science. There are THREE basic things you need to do in order to be successful at it.

1. ASK

2. PLAN the date

3. Be polite

No, I don't want to hang out with you and your friends at a bar, that's not a date. Yes, you have to ask me in advance, because I have a life. No, I will not ask you, because I could take or leave you.

It's enough to make a girl want to throw in the towel.

Prospects

Thinking about updating more frequently....As I said before I am positively bubbling over with words!

And prospects.

I'd pretty much given up on Match.com but then sooo many people started contacting me. A handful of them are actually worth following up on as well. Crazy!

Okay, I must blog about my last Match experience since I skipped it what with all the other stuff going on in my life. Remember the guy I went out with from Match before? Who went crazy on me after I unwittingly e-mailed his friend on Match? Well....I went out with the friend.

Oops.

I know, I know that's just asking for trouble, but I wanted to go out.

In the meantime I decided, because apparently I am old-school bananas, to get a Brazilian wax. One of the girls in the make-up shop is an aesthetician and she gave me a sweet deal, and I'd always been curious, so I thought....Why not?

Oh, and did I mention this is the NIGHT BEFORE my date with this guy?

I THOUGHT it would make me feel really sexy for my date, but when I was icing my crotch with a bag of broccoli in my cute date dress I thought differently.

So I'm at this loud jazz club with Jazz Hands (we call him Jazz Hands because he is getting his masters in jazz studies) where I have to shout to converse and my who-ha feels like it's going to FALL OFF and I've been at the school long hours working so I'm ridiculously tired and keep yawning (which makes me look really attractive and interested)....And THEN Jazz Hands asks me about his friend; what I thought of him and such! How awkward is that?! What do you say?

I tried to be as polite as possible and said something about not really knowing him but he seems like a nice guy....Ugh.

Fast forward to finals week before spring break and it is make-up class finals and my make-up less face is red and broken out from the marathon beating it's been taking and my hair is in a wig cap so I look like a complete weirdo....I decide to venture up to the atrium to get a grilled cheese on my break and who walks through the atrium just then but JAZZ HANDS? I turned away and kind of hid behind the other person waiting in line like a pathetic girl from a bad rom com, but I'm sure he saw me. The ONE TIME I'm not all put together and look like a freak of nature.....Oh, well. Such is my life!

Anyway, I am currently setting up a date with a middle school science teacher who seems nice. We'll see how it goes.

I'm also chatting with an engineer who I thought seemed really, really promising until he said he liked the movie Sucker Punch. To be fair, I haven't seen it, and if the worst thing about him is that he likes bad movies I guess it's not the end of the world....

I can't decipher the nationality or pronounce the name of a guy on Match who works in finance, but I guess it'll be like a surprise!

The guys who work at Habanero, the restaurant just a block from my house, always flirt with me. One was particularly adorable. He said "Well, if you need something, or anything, you know, with your chips, or some salsa, or you know, whatever, come back by and see me." As he smiled shyly.

And to think I was wearing my yoga pants and barely had any make-up on because I was going for a walk (although I'm pretty sure getting the amazing fried tortilla chips and guacamole from that place after exercise is counterintuitive)!

And of course there's Law School. Talking to him brightens my day. I'm sure it could be great, but he lives in California and I just DON'T want to go down that road. So I'm trying to keep things surface....friendly...

In fact, I want to keep all of them light. I want to date them all and not worry about narrowing it down to one. I want to see what's out here in Cincinnati. I want to laugh and have dinner bought for me.

I just can't do more. The thought of telling someone all my secrets, my hopes, my fears feels....daunting. I just don't have the room to let someone truly into my life right now. Not now when I'm feeling so much like myself again. I can't afford to lose my way.

So I won't. I have a path. I have a major design to work on that inspires me (maybe I'm a nerd but when a director uses terms like Brechtian and Dickensian I get all excited). I have an awesome summer job in the mountains of Utah doing what I love. And, most importantly, I have a new pair of hiking shoes (really, I just bought them today for working backstage) in case the path gets rough.