Whorporate

I was supposed to go camping with a bunch of friends over the weekend. I've been stretched too thin for far too long and like a pair of Kmart underwear, my elastic is about to give out. I don't even want to be around boys right now. I'm turning down dates just to be alone.

I was looking forward to sleeping under a star filled sky. I wanted to get away from it all. The weather was gorgeous and I needed the special kind of mothering only nature can give. Some vitamin D, some happy time for the dog, s'mores. Not to mention my friend Brett's kickass migas. The way we eat while camping is hardly roughing it,; last time there were mimosas at breakfast! I'd been looking forward to this for weeks now.

Then he called.

My freelance pimp.

...and I realized the ugly truth: I am a whore.

I was willing to kick all the respite, renewal and reconnection with my friends right out to the gutter. I'd make approximately 2 weeks pay in just one weekend.

I felt giddy but was disgusted with myself. I booked this camping trip ages ago. I had plans! All dashed in the instant when the double dollar signs became visible in the reflections of my eyes.

Working for the pimp can be difficult. He has all the control and I know he makes plenty of money from my labor, but I love him like a daddy. When he tells me he loves my work and wants to take care of me, I believe him... I really do.

Ready for my closeup

Recently my photographer friend Jim was kind enough to help a sistah out. I needed professional pics for some work related stuff and I figured while I was at it, I might as well get a few photos to send back to the family too.

We made an afternoon of it. I brought my makeup bag, assorted styling aids and a few different outfits over to his place, and regressed to my 6 year old inner child. It was fun to play dress up, but I wish I really could have been as un-selfconscious as my 6 year old self. Why is it so stressful to be photographed?

Just for fun we did some cheesecake shots too. There's no way I'd ever be comfortable enough with another photographer to let them get some of these shots. He would have taken much more risque shots if I would have let him. Are all photographers pervy?

Despite my nervousness, he still did great work. I think the real key is volume! If you just keep shooting, eventually something will look great. Seventeen shots where I look like a troll demanding money before I'll allow you to cross my bridge, and then unexpectedly in the next shot BAM! I'm too sexy for the catwalk!
Photography is such an art.

Life Is But A Dream

As I was leaving the office on Monday, I got word that my grandmother passed away that morning. It's been a long time coming and I didn't feel a thing other than concern for the rest of the family. There's lots of details and logistics to handle now. Plus, plenty of family drama that I'm just not used to anymore. I live far, far away from these people for a reason.

It reminds me how many luxuries I enjoy in my quiet, single life. Other than my dog, I'm generally not beholden to anyone. My life allows me to be selfish, like Cartman on Southpark ("Whatevah! I do what I want!"). For the time being though, my perspective has shifted. Family is the priority right now. For the moment, job interviews, freelance sales meetings, and dates with boys have all been demoted.

I couldn't reach my granddad. It was a constant busy signal, so I went to the gym to wait him out. I arrived midway through a spin class and squeezed every last endorphin out of that bike. His phone was still busy. I went upstairs for a yoga class and the tears came quietly. They caught me by surprise.

The tears aren't because of my grandmother's death, they're because of her life. I feel so incredibly lucky in comparison. She was wired differently..not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but the sunniest disposition you could imagine. Why couldn't I just be dumb and happy like her? Wouldn't life be easier?

I've had the luxury of designing the life I want. I put myself through college and grad school, worked in interesting jobs, traveled internationally for pleasure and work, lived in various parts of the country, bought my own modest home, and adopted my brilliant but neurotic dog. I've been able to explore all kinds of interests, hobbies and adventures while her life was lived in a terrarium. Her world was very small and she never had control.

I have a clear memory of a conversation we had when I was a teenager. As she was ironing my dad's shirts she admonished that if I didn't master some domestic skills like ironing and cooking and become willing to serve a man, I'd never find a husband. Can you imagine?! Sometimes I'm weary of all the responsibility of taking care of myself, but I don't think I could ever tolerate the alternative. Despite all her years of service, she never got the happy ending.

I won't be at the memorial tomorrow. I couldn't get a bereavement fare. Who knew that those tickets are harder to get than redeeming your "freakin' flier miles"? All the airlines are sold out of those fares but are happy to offer a roundtrip ticket for $1000.00. Thanks for the sensitivity, guys.

It's OK. My family was insistent that I stay put for now and come in another week or two when things have settled down a bit. I'll be of more use then anyway. I just booked my ticket.

Technical Difficulties

Ah, the joys of modern dating life. Between cell phones and email and IM communication should be a breeze, right?

In some cases, it is. Yesterday, I was catching up with a former flame from my college days who's going to Iraq. Again! He's turned into this wonderful guy - a great husband and father; given our history, I'd never have guessed he had it in him. I'd wondered about him for years.

It's been really cathartic to be in close contact and to get his perspective on things. He's brought so much respect and compassion to our interactions that not only have I forgiven him for the poor treatment I received back in college, I've actually grown to admire him. He's grown up and lives in a totally different world now: DaddyLand. I think he's been enjoying the tales from the dating trenches. He's been a great sounding board and I have him to thank for my recent vindication.

I've been having all sorts of technical difficulties recently. My cell phone has gone psychotic and my consulting colleague recently hosed my email account... which kind of makes it hard for me to solicit new business. I wasn't aware of the problem until midweek and it took until Friday to get things ironed out.

Anyway, I was a little stressed that I hadn't heard back from Date #79, G. I didn't know if he had followed up and I missed his communication or if he never even tried. I really had hoped to see him again. We had such an excellent time last week and I was concerned that it was the old double standard playing out. Men want what they want, but if they actually start to get what they want, they often spaz and disappear. Poof!

So, I made out with a guy I had only known a scant seven or eight hours! So what? I've dated guys for months that haven't gotten as far. I felt a real connection and I had fun. Besides, I take it as a good sign that my libido remains intact. After turning down D cold last week I was starting to worry that maybe I'd entered early menopause. Turns out my hormones are still crankin' after all!

I was flying blind. If he hadn't tried to contact me, I didn't want to be the one to push things. I generally don't call guys. I'll call them back, but I don't call. It's not my thing. I really do believe there's some stupid primal thing with them and the chase. Anyway, my old flame insisted that I at least write the guy a one line email to specifically say I enjoyed our time together and that I'd like to see him again. Well, what did I have to lose but my dignity? And after Monday's make out session, that was pretty much tossed out the window already. Nothing to lose now, at least I'd know where I stood.

I sent the note and by the time I got into the office late this morning there was a verbose response awaiting me and asking if I'd like to have dinner one night this week. Turns out he had written a lovely email on Wednesday that got the dreaded bounceback. The poor guy got a message that I didn't exist -- that's GOTTA suck! On top of it all he'd had some problems with his cell phone getting shut off (which doesn't say much for his personal stability).

G's schedule is just as full as mine, so it remains to be seen if we'll ever manage to get together again, but I'm thrilled that he's interested. He might not be long term compatible but he could be a fun diversion, and I think I'm due for that!

Holy Matrimony!

I attended yet another wedding last night. It was beautiful. The bride was radiant, the groom relaxed and joyful. They're a wonderful couple and I can easily visualize them happily growing old together. They fit like interlocking pieces. Although I knew them when they first began dating, they've always seemed this way to me.

The best man, my ex-boyfriend, was adorable in his tux, even if he did look a bit uncomfortable. I don't think he's ever worn so many layers of such restrictive clothing in his life. Poor dear. I was a bit wistful at the reception, seeing him at the wedding party's table and later dancing with him. There was a time when I thought we might be headed down the aisle ourselves and it's been tough to watch our friends pair off. We're the only couple in that social circle who didn't make it but I'm thankful that we've navigated to the comfortable intimacy of a close friendship. It's far better than our relationship ever was.

I was just about the only single woman in attendance last night. Although, with this particular group there's no real pressure around that because I'm completely accepted as I am, I still felt a smidgeon of the "old maid" pity. Maybe it was self inflicted. I couldn't help but look around and notice another lone singleton.

She has a sweet and friendly demeanor and poodle hair that was the height of fashion circa 1987. There's a faint essence of church lady that emanates from her. Is this my future? I recognize on a rational level that we're on opposite ends of the personality spectrum... but this woman is well educated and genuinely nice. Just like the bride.

For a moment, I think that I need to find a way to file down the serrated edge of my personality. Then I think maybe it has less to do with my personality than with expectations. No matter how wonderful a man is, I have a hard time accepting the idea of spending the rest of my life with him. Maybe it has less to do with the guy than the idea of just setting my life on a firm course that won't vary, with a co-pilot who has his own ideas on where we should be heading.

The bride doesn't have this concern. Her vows rolled off her tongue and there was an impressive firmness of conviction in her unwavering voice. If it was me, I might have passed out, or bolted like the runaway bride.

Date 79 - Geek chic

SXSW was in full swing and I was reestablishing my neural pathways to creativity that have been cluttered with corporate cobwebs for the past few years now. A couple of days away from the office does a body good!

After Monday's sessions, I ran into my fun loving freelance photographer friend outside of the convention center and downed a toxic nuclear taco. For the love of god... Nuclear doesn't begin to describe the pain! God bless Amy's Ice Cream for sponsoring the pain relief. An immediately administered scoop of chocolate soothed the shreds of my surviving taste buds.

With our mollified mouths, we tromped off to the Blogger party at Club deVille to mix and mingle with the other geek chic. I met Alex, the lovely author of Girl's Guide to City Life, and her great boyfriend. They must be the nicest people to ever emerge from LA, although I credit that to their time spent in Seattle. The photographer and I chatted with his friend, the filmmaker and a few other random folks before parting ways to go to our separate parties.

I was off to Sidebar for the Lifehacker party. I mean, it was on my way back to the car anyway, so I figured I might as well. Besides, the only time I've ever been in Sidebar was with the Snake, it seemed like a good opportunity to create some of my own independent memories there. I'm not much for bars, but with the conference at least I had a legitimate excuse to be there on my own.

I took a quick walk around and not seeing anyone familiar, I sidled up to the bar to order my Tito's and tonic. I think I was two sips into my libation when G appeared at my right and struck up a conversation. A local from South Austin, G was gregarious and cute in a slightly generic gameshow host sort of way. We wound up talking for ages and what was supposed to be a single drink for me turned into several. The conversation was just too interesting to tear myself away.

After a few hours, G asked if we could go to another bar. He didn't even give me the option of carrying my 80lb craptop which was inappropriately stowed in my conference tote bag; he just picked it up for me automatically. Very sweet. I'm not sure how, but we decided on the Ginger Man, which isn't exactly around the corner from Red River... it's got to be a good 15 blocks away at least. Again, the conversation was so captivating, I didn't even notice the long walk.

We chatted for another few hours. We talked about Austin, Asia, product development, design trends, art... you name it. Good times! G is 30, has a master's degree, working class values and ethics and is employed by a think tank. When he wanted to smooch on me, it was a complete no-brainer. A smart, sexy guy who's passionate about his work and life? Count me in!

How is it that I've never met this guy before? Do I need to start hanging out in bars more often?

My liver breathes a sigh of relief

Thank goodness the SXSW IA conference is over! It was a wonderful mish-mash of media but I'm not sure I could force even one more ounce of liquor down my gullet. It's hard to say no when the drinks are on Blogger and Google.

It was good to reconnect with old friends and colleagues that I haven't seen in ages. There were really interesting panels and discussions and I loved meeting all kinds of random people from all over the place.

Hooray for Boobies

The other day at work I almost killed a secretary while trying to open the door to the bathroom. She was crouched on the ground and the door just about cracked her in the head.

She was fervently searching for the diamond from her wedding ring. It had come loose from the setting and she just knew it was here. Reflexively my hand went to my throat, to the diamond I wear around my neck. I knew I had put it on that morning, but I didn't feel the chain. Nothing was there.

I had recently switched the stone back to the original necklace my mother wore it on. It's a little longer than my chain. Turns out it had snapped. Maybe it got tangled in my hair brush or something. I don't know. The point is - I was truly feeling this woman's anxiety.

Until I realized that my boobs had saved the day once again. Cleavage is nature's pocket!

And although her diamond wasn't buried in my bosom, the secretary found her stone too.

The Beautiful People

Last night I dashed my previous plan to meet some new intelligentsia at Dionysium and instead accepted my neighbor's invitation to come downtown to Maiko for sushi with her friends. (Yes, I am eating alot of sushi these days - I fully expect the mercury poisoning to take effect at any moment.) The neighbor has a new dog and we've been spending a fair amount of time together lately. It's been nice. My dog LOVES having a new boyfriend to boss around. I love having a smart and single girlfriend to visit with again. The neighbor's invitation wasn't completely altruistic. There was an agenda: she was being set up and she wanted back up. I'm the go-to girl for anything like that. Call me "Pretty Girl's Best Friend".... it's my lot in life. Actually, I'm always up for meeting totally random people. Boy, did the evening deliver! Turns out that the setup guy J is a full on former frat boy turned sales exec. You can tell he's an a-hole from 50 yards. Although his look was polished, the sleaze factor was a bit high. It's all relative though because after his friend G showed up, the male species hit a new low. You know G. Or a guy like him. Way too many anecdotes about strippers. Comments about T and A at completely inappropriate times. Doesn't seem to think women have any value except their bodies. Doesn't matter that he's paunchy, unattractive, loud and brash; he fancies himself some kind of stud. Everyone would accept him and tolerate him if he'd just relax and get out of his own way. Think Dangerfield in Caddy Shack, only without the redeeming charm, humor or money. Despite G's presence, we actually had a pretty pleasant time over dinner. For the most part the conversation flowed and everyone was sociable. J started to warm up and mellow out. He still seemed pretty shallow, but started sharing some lighthearted anecdotes that made him seem a bit more human. At the other table the twenty-something girls were shouting about how fabulous they are and how L.A. rules!!! Um, yeah.... if you think L.A. is where it's at, please move there soon and free up some parking for those of us who still love Austin. Their 40ish male friends barely seemed to notice. It's amazing the behavior men will tolerate to be in the presence of a nice pair of tits. We moved on to GingerMan ostensibly for darts. Thankfully we were spared sitting with the loud drunk girls when the neighbor's friend suggested we sit outside. We all got a table on the back deck and it was a perfect Austin night. Until we notice J's friend (the Queen Bee of the nasty 20-somethings) sitting at a distant picnic table and hurling. Lovely. Yes, my friends... this is what life is like with the beautiful people.

Date 80 - Tyrannosaurus Wreck

originally posted Tuesday, March 07, 2006

My recent work has been so well received by the muckety mucks that I almost have a little free time. Not really, but compared to la vida loca, it seems that way. Heck, my elbows are even healing! So, when T asked if I had time to grab some sushi last night after work, and I realized I actually could spare an hour or two, I thought, "why not?".

Since this was going to be a completely impromptu blind date, I didn't feel like much additional effort was warranted regarding my appearance. I did a little retouch on my makeup and I was still fairly presentable from my day at the office. I'd already changed into play clothes and felt fine about that. Cute skirt and sandals, very casual.

I arrived a few minutes ahead of schedule and was perusing the list of UT informal classes while waiting for him. They've got the beginner's golf class I was hoping for, but who knows... maybe I'll try breakdancing instead. You never know when you're going to have a dance-off in the streets old school style like Electric Boogaloo.

I saw T arrive and painstakingly park his late model silver muscle car.

He walked into the restaurant and I felt it.

It was electric.
I knew in an instant.

This was going to be painful.

He wasn't equipped for this date. It wasn't fair. I'm usually not one to make snap judgements; I'm much more open minded. I have warmed up to people that I felt no connection with. Heck, the Snake completely alienated me on our first date, and not only did I give him another chance, I eventually fell for him! I can tell right off the bat though. T is basic addition for first grade while I'm a quadratic equation... with lots of exponents.

The first thing I noticed was his mechanical stiffness. The second thing I noticed was his oddly shaped head. Kind of like a volleyball that was a little deflated, as if the bottom his face was slowly leaking air. He shook my hand and I'm not sure what was going on there... perhaps he had purchased a shirt with extra long sleeves? His hand was covered by the cuff. Maybe they were french cuffs that were too sophisticated for him? It gave the impression that he must have tiny withered arms like a tyrannasaurus rex.

We walked to our table and ordered two glasses of plum wine. My friends will tell you that I only occasionally partake of adult beverages, but I didn't hesitate for an instant. It was clear that I would need all the help I could get in order to navigate this date for the both of us. I ordered our sushi and let the punishment begin.

He droned on about his work for the government... it's NOT interesting. I have a feeling this guy could suck the fun and fascination out of even the sexiest of topics. I prodded him along. He mentioned his hobby of racing his car on a local track. Great - a hobby! I can work with this! But no, now we've somehow regressed to his weekly bible study group. Fantastic. He's very active within his Southern Baptist community.

No, really, I'm glad that he's found Jesus. I just realize that I've been snookered. This guy isn't even slightly related to the impression he was trying to give online. I knew in a heartbeat that we were worlds apart. I'm sure he's got a good heart and is a very good person. My world isn't necessarily better than his; he's just in a galaxy far, far away from mine.

We survive dinner and I'm attempting a jedi mind trick on the waiter so he'll bring the check and I can back to my life. After waiting several moments listening to him chatter about his ex wife, while he took no notice of the check whatsoever, I fished out my credit card and plunked it down on the table to stop the insanity.

He snapped back to reality and asked, "Oh, we're going to split this, aren't we?" Thought to self: "Well, I actually thought you might buy since you asked me, but I'm willing to consider this a penalty tax for going out with a clueless dolt like you." He puts in a $20. It won't be enough to cover his half with tip, but I'm happy not to be buying for both of us anymore.

T is a good guy... he's just clueless and a little awkward. He's kind enough to ask if he can escort me to my car, and I'm happy to see that his mama brought him up right afterall. It was nice to meet him, even if he's not for me. I'll say a little prayer that a good, simple woman comes his way soon.

The Week in Review

originally posted Saturday March 4, 2006

It's been a full week, as usual. One sign that you've been working too much: bed sores on your elbows. It's actually gotten that bad. No one should bleed on their desk at work. No one!

I was up working on a deadline for my freelance project until about 2:00am on Monday night. Putting together the big deliverable for the muckety-mucks and sending it off at the final hour. Can I get a "hell yeah!" for Pacific Time? I don't know what I'd do without that 2 hour time difference. I cannot bring myself to bust ass like this for my current day job, but this sense of accomplishment is addictive.

Tuesday evening I attended Brian Green's SPARK lecture on physics downtown at the Paramount. It was excellent, but I'm sure I would have enjoyed it more if I was operating on more than 4 hours of sleep. How do people with children function?!

Wednesday afternoon's job interview went very well. I got the "call back" while still in the interview. Excellent! That's like getting asked out on a second date before your dessert arrives. Always a good sign. Also, I broke things off with J; feels good to have that taken care of. If it's not working, it's not working.

Thursday I got to catch up with a fabulous girlfriend over a leisurely lunch outside at Z Tejas. It was so nice to sit outside and enjoy a little fresh air and feel like one of those ladies who lunch... even if I don't have that luxury in real life. The dreaded post-lunch meeting with my manager went well. I'm not sure if she was just too sick to spew her usual venom or if I should attribute that to my glass of chardonnay.

After work, I managed to get a last minute haircut at Jackson Ruiz, thanks to their new location on Burnet. I had no idea that they even had a second location (evidently fairly new). Jessica gave me an awesome cut to get me ready for my hot date on Friday.

Friday was less than productive. I don't know if it was allergies or the return of cloudy weather, but God help me I could NOT get a thing done at work. I found myself trolling the online dating website. I figure I'm pretty much done with internet dating, but I might as well squeeze a few more from the ringer before my subscription runs out.

Friday night's date was at Jeffrey's. I was so excited about finally "dining" there. [Begin Thurston Howell III voice here: "One doesn't eat at Jeffrey's, one dines, lovey."] I had such a great time with P from Houston on our first date a few weeks back, I knew this would be a good time, but I was still a little anxious. I knew he'd be dressed to the nines. Oh, the trials of keeping up with a metrosexual!

I decided on a little black halter dress and hopefully pulled off a look that was something between Ginger from Gilligan's Island and Audrey Hepburn. I love that P isn't at all sensitive about being vertically challenged. This dress required my black mother of pearl heels and purse to complete the look. Polished.

The food was divine, until about halfway through dinner when I noticed the Snake sitting on the opposite side of the restaurant. I wasn't sure it was him at first; he's definitely put on some weight. Profile is a tough angle for anyone, but it was especially unfortunate for him. He really is beginning to look like Walter Mathau. How did I possibly have it so bad for this guy? And why did my heart rate go up when I saw him? At least I didn't feel like I had to throw up like the last time he crossed my path.

I was distracted by the Snake, but P was so sweet, charming, gracious and handsome it helped me focus on the positive. Love the one you're with! I was out with a dashing gentleman who clearly appreciates me and enjoys my company. I'm not sure what it is about P (maybe the distance?) but I feel like a softer version of myself when I'm with him. I just open to him like a flower in bloom.

After dinner, we headed to the Driskill for drinks. We were mooning over each other a bit at this point - the mutual admiration society! P can't understand why some man hasn't swept me off my feet yet. The bar was filled with the usual assortment of Austinites and tourists, but the male specimens were indicative (in-dick-ative?) of my ongoing singleton status.

Exhibit A-hole: The cocky jackholes in their late 20's/early 30's wearing striped shirts and too much product in their painstakingly spiked hair. They're obnoxious, generally ignorant and completely self absorbed. Their latest read was about the best pick up lines in Details or calf implants in Men's Health. No depth, just dearth. No deal.

Next we have the early to late 30's men wearing suits. They've stepped up a notch in their attire and their choices in adult beverages match. They fancy themselves international playboys and make every attempt to have the appropriate arm candy accessory. As I'm making my point, the publisher of a local business magazine sidles up to the bar with his entourage. I've met him before at a party. I wanted to be impressed, but alas was not. All flash, no substance. They're smug and arrogant, not engaging at all. I'm just not interested. Perhaps there's a real person somewhere underneath that facade, but I don't have the wherewithall to find out.

P is the man that these boys are not. P seems just as open to me as I am to him. We talk about stuff that matters, but there's plenty of fluff and gloss too. We're playful. It's a good balance and he's great company. He's already talking about us taking a trip to the Caymans, and it sounds fun to me. When he drove me back to my car, I was happy to smooch him. It was nice. I still don't want to get involved in anything long distance, but we've clearly established a nice bond as friends and maybe that's all we'll turn out to be.

... So that's the news from the dating trenches! I'm off to get ready to attend a party full of gay men and rugby players tonight. Hopefully it won't be all gay rugby players... not that there's anything wrong with that. Actually, there is something logistically wrong with that - I want to meet somebody who's actually playing for my team.