Too Awesome?

I was in the middle of a conversation with a friend when he turned to me and said, “Wait, I thought you were happy being single?”

I don’t know what I said that set him off but I replied quickly. “Whose happy being single?” He brought up the benefit of casual sex and I agreed but his question stayed with me.

Have I been happy being single this past months? I know my vag hasn’t been but I haven’t really thought about my emotional and mental self. I got really good at ignoring it.

I felt it tonight.

And maybe it’s just the burst of Spring and the abundance of pregnancies and engagements that come with it, but I felt that old deep pang of loneliness when I left work tonight.

That pang and frustration that comes with turning around and not having a safety net.

The doubt that comes with knowing that though it’s up to me whether I go out or stay in on a Friday night, there’s no one that will really care.

The sadness that comes with waiting for that guy, or any guy, to see you and give you the attention you deserve. And the sadness gets worse as the waiting continues.

There’s a piece that’s missing when you know you’re amazing, are told that you’re amazing but still don’t get to the next step of returned affection. It doesn’t help that these compliments mostly come from married or engaged men whose next thought is probably ‘Why is she single’ which luckily I haven’t heard out loud yet.

In the last two days from two different unavailable guys I heard ‘this is why I like you..’ and they went on to describe the awesome qualities I already know about myself. And though compliments like this make me glow, at the same time I just wonder why are all the wrong men noticing my awesomeness?

Am I too awesome and confident to the point where I seem unobtainable? It could be possible. Look at Buffy.

Slow Workings

If I could spend all my time at work just crushing and lingering around MG (music guy AKA work crush) then we would probably be further along, but I have to go to stupid meetings and do stupid work the majority of the time. So during the week our interaction is limited to him saying hi as he’s walking past my desk to go to the men’s room.

Luckily my best friend at work, C, sits right next to him so I have chances to go over there but unluckily the senior guy I work with sits over there too. Most of the time I get stuck by him and don’t get any farther down the line. Again, if I could just spend my time at work plotting and executing casual interactions with MG I’d be a happier camper and so would my who-hah.

I’m a good multi-tasker though so here’s where my plotting took me last week. Even though I was out of the office on a shoot, I made moves of course.

I had tentative plans to get drinks with C Thursday after work so I wrote MG in an email asking if he wanted to join. First non work related email by the way. It had to happen sometime so why not from me with the subject line of ‘Yo’. He said he wants to but it’d have to be early cause he had band practice. Swoon.

I ended up shooting late so I wrote him an email to reschedule for Friday but didn’t mention C’s name. Kinda genius, I know. He responded with enthusiasm.

I of course, made backup plans. A coworker I barely knew was having a going away party at a bar by work. My backup plan was to meet another coworker there.

I went back to the office after shooting and casually walked to MG’s desk and said I was going to the bar around the corner if he wanted to meet me out. I kept it simple.

I didn’t ask how late he was working or if C wanted to come. (I already knew she was stressed and not in the mood to drink).

I went to the bar and 15 minutes later he shows up. He doesn’t bring anyone, and doesn’t know anyone but me. We grab stools at the bar away from the group and he buys a round. I’m elated, of course.

In the first five minutes he asked me what my old BF was doing. I said I didn’t know.

He said he thinks he’s out of town shooting. I said again, I didn’t know.

I moved the conversation on from there and he wasn’t brought up again.

We talk for the next few hours and he asks what I’m doing this weekend. I tell him relaxing and catching up on sleep. I ask him and he said no plans tomorrow night. He says maybe I can call you and we can hang out. I give him my number. Again, elated.

He ends with saying we should do this again really soon.

He didn’t call. Shrug. I realized later I probably played up too much that I wanted to do nothing all weekend instead of talking about what we’d do. So moving on. Things have been the same this week at work with casual hi’s and smiles.

In conclusion: He has my number, what the heck is he waiting for?

Sweet Tea on a Tuesday night

The nights I crave are the ones where I stop caring about the stresses of first impressions and which D to be and I become wildly and amazingly myself. I’m honest and friendly and open and share and don’t apologize. The nights I crave are the ones where I live in the now and agree to another drink without thinking of tomorrow’s work day. I become me, in the now. And I’m not selling or trying to find a motive.

I research the people in front of me and dig for likeness and differences with me. I’m fascinated with all of it. They know the kind of douches I’ve dated and the mean girls I’ve dumped, only they have different names. We’re all on the same boat and looking for the same epiphany to help us get sleep each night. We’re all looking for that closure that we say we don’t need, and yet, jump to each new text for- just in case. We’re all seconds away from pulling on our life jackets; relieved to see that someone else has just as shaky hands up close.

The nights I crave are the ones where I let go of yesterday and am not anxious about tomorrow. And those nights do happen. Like tonight. In those nights, I flirt with a new boy and sip on a new drink. I forgive myself for the mistakes I made in the last week/month and nod happily to another drink without looking at the time. Sometimes, it’s best to let time go while you sort out the present, no matter where you are.

The nights I crave are the ones where smoked salmon and string cheese have become my drunken munchies and the days of delivery pizza are a faded memory. In those nights, I let go of whatever I’ve been searching for and I just hold on to whatever’s in front of me, and that’s okay.

I Don't Miss College and Here's Why

I don’t mind working late. And no it’s not for the reasons your all thinking, (ahem) work crush (ahem).

Most of the time I’m not in the office during the day but out with another vendor being treated as a client. And it’s just as lovely as it sounds.

I put a good, long hard day in. And I know when I’m complaining about the little things that I can let go of as I close down my laptop for the day. And I know when I’m stuck in bigger learning curves that I need to work or they’ll keep holding me back.

I smile and look people in the eye when I meet them. I push myself and hold back when I need to. I act familiar and comfortable and ask questions without apologizes.

There’s this great moment though when I’m leaving whatever high-rise lobby I’m in. I whip my scarf around my neck and smile to the security guard as I swing through the rotating doors to be greeted by a warm breeze. I fall into line with the tired, shuffling workers on the dark streets. I reach and battle for the comfort of a taxi and shrug when I settle on the bus. Happy that I saved ten bucks.

I play silent word puzzles over a stranger’s shoulder and make funny faces at a kid. I think about what’s in my fridge and start fantasizing about the feel of my slippers. And then I remind myself I really need to have sex soon before I forget how. I work on another word puzzle.

I exhale in the security of my own, empty apartment, slowly stirring the stillness as I turn on each light and move between rooms. The heels get kicked off first and then I remove my jewelry. And when I’m back in the easiness of my own height, I push my hair into a high messy bun before going into the bathroom. I feel light and lazy as I turn the sink water on. Water splashes on my face for minutes, and I scrub it clean until it’s red.

With just a light layer of moisturizer on, I become me again. I realize ten hours too late, that the blemish on my face isn’t as noticeable as I originally thought. And my bangs didn’t have to be messed with so much. I see that my eyes are starting to look worn in a way I actually like. I smile at my reflection and see how I look more like my mother every day.

I turn my blackberry on silent and turn the radio up louder.

And this is the actual dream I had when I was a kid, growing up what felt like a million miles away from the city: being comfortable in a pair of heels and pushing through rotating doors, striding into high-rise lobbies, the coffee cart guy knowing my usual, picking up a carton of milk on the way home from work, and dancing in my room alone with a view of the Chrysler building behind me.

And right now, sliding around in my slippers and the feel of tomorrow morning already in the air, I don’t want to be anywhere else or anyone else- blemish, messy bangs and all.

P.S. And yes, I know sometimes I ACTUALLY AM Anne Hathaway playing a lead role in Saint Elmo's Fire. But I gotta overact and enjoy it while I can because I know I could turn into a cameo at any moment.