Because you can give yourself a neck rub, but it's not the same...

It's hard not to feel lonely this time of year. I'm not even talking about the holidays... that is a whole other bowl of depression. I'm talking about autumn. The air gets brisk and the days get shorter. The entire season is devoted to cozy things like apple cider, sweaters and fireplaces. Everything about autumn is conducive to snuggling under a blanket with someone and watching movies. So it stands to reason that no matter how good you're feeling about your life, or how happy and fulfilled you typically fancy yourself, this time of year can throw you for a loop. It sneaks up on you too... Recently, I've found myself wanting to punch couples in their respective, happy faces. Normally, I am fairly indifferent to couples. I figure if they want to be in a relationship, good for them! Their lives are probably a little dull and they likely spend more time watching reality TV together than having sex, but they're happy. Of course, all jadedness aside, they also have someone to spoon with after a rough day. I believe it was that revelation that prompted my near-assault on some people canoodleing in front of me the other day. I also realized during a moment of reflection, that close to 80% of the relationships I've been in, began between September and November. Coincidence? I don't think so. Now, I am a self-proclaimed nostalgia-junkie. Once I start rolling down memory lane, it's difficult to stop and I often end up in a sad little funk. I was driving home from work tonight with the heater blasting, since my driver's side window is stuck in the down position. It's one of the first nights this season that we've had rain and a few snow flurries. I've been so looking forward to either, I didn't even care that my left ass-cheek was wet from said weather soaking my car seat. The smell of the moisture in the air and the way the clouds and mist hung in the sky as I was driving, sent my mind away. I was transported back to autumn of 2004 when my ex and I got together. He had this small, cozy apartment just down the street from my own, with a heater in the living room that looked like a wood-burning stove. That heater made his apartment soooo warm and comforting. I remember going over there and watching movies and talking for hours on end in that toasty little womb of an apartment that smelled intoxicatingly like coffee and incense. It was my happy place and it would have been next to impossible not to fall in love with him in those surroundings. When I recall memories like that, it's hard not to become enveloped by a sense of loss and loneliness. Thankfully I am able to recognize it as the perfect, yet fleeting, moment in time it was. I smile fondly and dreamily, (perhaps cry a little) and move on, knowing there will surely be even more perfect moments like it down the road.

I'm sorry, I don't understand why you're not in love with me yet...

Dating. It continues to be something of a foreign concept to me. I remember when I was growing up, I would watch movies and TV shows where people would go on dates and I recall being very excited at the prospect that someday, when I was older, I too would be participating in this ritual. My brother and I had a "dress-up" box, filled with old Halloween costumes and thrift-store clothes that we would put on and parade around the house in when we were bored. I distinctly remember being around 9 or 10 years old and putting together an outfit consisting of a black miniskirt and a blue and black, sleeveless, zebra print shirt with a silver sequined belt over top (laugh it up, but this was the 80's and it was rad.) I told my parents this was what I intended to wear on my first date, to which my Dad replied "over my dead body." Turns out he didn't have to worry about that for a long time. Awkward adolescence hit me with a vengeance and between the 3 years of braces, the spiral perms I was so fond of, and a very unfortunate fashion-sense, the boys weren't exactly lining up around the block to ask me out. When my friends and I finally did start attracting the opposite sex in our mid-teens, actual "dates" continued to elude us because we inevitably went out with boys we already knew and who were part of our circle of friends. We would all hang out as a group at parties or at the park or at concerts, but there was rarely, if ever, one-on-one time spent doing anything except making out in the back of a car. I did not go on my first legitimate date until I was 22 years old and it was a total train wreck. For some reason, I took a liking to this friend of a co-worker, who seemed nice and who I thought was somewhat attractive, even though he was 46 years old. He took me out to dinner at an Italian restaurant, and before we had finished the first course, he had already proven to be A.) a complete racist B.) a complete moron C.) possibly the owner of a puppy mill. If only cell phones had been common then... I would have been texting everyone I knew to come get me the hell out of there. Since then, I have most often ended up with co-workers whom I already knew on a friendly basis, therefore making "getting to know you" dates unnecessary. Fast forward to present day and my most recent predicament. I'm at this Pub last week and I run into this unbelievably cute guy from the natural foods store, who I've had a crush on forever (see my previous blog entitled #1 Crush). I decide it's fate and that if I don't talk to him, I will regret it forever. So I go talk to him... and he ends up asking me for my number... and he calls me 2 days later... and we go out for a beer the next day... and we talk for hours and have a great time... or so I thought. I foolishly assumed he felt the same connection I did and that my wit and girlish charm would have him pining for the next moment he could spend with me. It's now been a full week and I have not heard from him. I find myself thoroughly confused and wondering if this is one of those "games" I always hear about. Or if, as the movie so eloquently put it, "he's just not that into me". Regardless, this experience has soured me a little toward dating. Why should I put myself out there and deal with this nonsense when I have 2 perfectly loving cats at home and a stack of books on my night-stand just waiting to be read? After all, there's no law that says you have to be old to be a spinster.

Pregnant is the new black...

Everywhere I turn, it seems people are procreating. I feel as though a boom started in Hollywood a few years back with people like Britney Spears and Katie Holmes and ever since then, every fertile woman of child-bearing age in America has decided to get knocked up. Maternity clothes are all super stylish now, and you can get all sorts of cute, designer baby clothes for your child to throw-up on and poop all over. Maybe I am just hypersensitive to this because I am at an age where many of my friends are beginning to feel their biological clocks start ticking. I have a couple of close girlfriends who will likely be "with child" within the year, simply because regardless of their situations, they've decided it's time. This is incomprehensible to me. I think I might be missing the "maternal gene". I've been on the fence for years, about whether or not I want to have kids. I'll admit, I entertained the idea when my ex and I were together, but I'm a bit of a control freak and I never felt stable or secure enough with him to go through with it. (Thank God) Also, to be perfectly honest, most kids annoy the crap out of me and/or scare me. I view them as tiny sociopaths. They have no concept of right or wrong and care very little about the consequences of their actions. It's unsettling. Of course, everyone I tell this to gives me the parenting tagline: "Oh, you'll feel differently when they're your own." To this I reply: "What if you're wrong?" One of my biggest fears is that I will have a kid and I won't like him/her. Then what? My understanding is, you can't return them. I just spent a week with my brother, his wife and my two beautiful nephews, who are 2 years old and 4 months old respectively. I will admit that I love these two little beings, possibly more than anything else in the world, but after spending a few days with them, I was exhausted. In my head, I multiplied how I felt by about twenty, and was suddenly aware of how my poor sister-in-law must feel every day of her life. I'm not sure I could do it and I'm not sure I want to. Parenting tagline #2: "Your whole life changes when you have a baby, but you get used to it because it's sooo worth it." To this I reply: "What if I don't want my whole life to change?" I like staying up until 3 a.m. and sleeping until noon. I like going out dancing and drinking and enjoy eating at nice restaurants. I like having perky boobs and good bladder control. I know there is a chance I will change my mind someday and decide I want to be "Mommy", but for right now I am perfectly happy being nothing more than "Aunt Jess".

Do you know The Secret?

I know "The Secret". You might laugh and call me a delusional hippy, but for those of you who are also in the know, you can appreciate the power of the universe. For those of you who have no idea what I am talking about, allow me to give you a brief education on the principles. "The Secret" suggests that you can have anything you want/need in this world, you just have to "attract" it to yourself with positive thought. Basically, you can manifest your own destiny by focusing on what you want in your life; the law of attraction being that "like attracts like". I don't typically put a lot of stock into this sort of flowery nonsense, but this makes sense to me and seems somewhat legitimate. That being said, I have crafted a "vision board"... a 2X3 bulletin board containing pictures and quotes of things I want to see, do and be. It has so far proven surprisingly affective. The trouble is, lately I seem to be accidentally manifesting the wrong things by not being completely clear about my intentions and desires. Example: I recently decided to try to form a clear picture in my head, of what my ideal mate would look like. I am here to tell you it's really difficult to do that from scratch. You inevitably end up picturing people you already know, then cutting and pasting together some amorphous image of a whole person. Or, in my case, you get distracted with picturing someone who you are unbelievably attracted to, but who is completely wrong for you in every other way and end up inadvertently bringing that person back into your life in a most unhealthy manner. I would never consciously and rationally try to bring too-young-for-me-emotionally-unavailable-immature-man-whores into my world, yet apparently because there are a grip of them floating around town right now, my irrational subconscious was like "Eh, have a little fun... what's the harm?" The harm lies in the fact that the very recent ex-girlfriend of this particular mistake, is bunny-boiling crazy and prone to stalking... I will be re-vamping my vision board this week, and I am tempted to fill it with very safe things like rainbows, moonbeams and a photo of an island where I will vacation soon, because you really have to be careful when you mess with the universe.

I shall continue to rant until I get answers...

I am a pretty positive, optimistic person 99% of the time, but I've had a rough couple of days, so this is what you get. I'll admit it... I don't "put myself out there" very often and here's why: a.) I'm not really looking for a relationship right now. b.) It's a scary world. People lie and misrepresent themselves daily. It's just a matter of time until I let myself trust someone, get comfortable with them, then find a baggie full of fingernail clippings in their medicine cabinet. I'd just assume save myself the restraining order and go with my gut from the beginning. Once in awhile, though, I will meet someone and open myself up to the possibility of dating them and do you want to know what I find? A sweet guy who brings me flowers, is actually a 45 -year old stoner who lives in a van. (Oh, and he stole the flowers.) Aces. A cute guy who comes to my bar and enjoys telling me how beautiful I am and that we should exchange emails so we can "chat" some night, actually has a home, wife (and probably a dog), in the Philippines. Outstanding. Are these really my choices? And it doesn't end there... One of my friends has been accidently dating closeted gay men for years. Then there are the newly-divorced-think-they're-ready-to-date-but-aren't guys, the ones with psycho exes stalking them, the manic-depressives, the drunks, the felons, and the racists. The other thing I'm sick of is all the half-assed, luke-warm sentiment from the somewhat decent ones that have potential. Supposedly, you love me and think I'm wonderful, but instead of making that clear to me and declaring your intentions, you pussy-foot around and act like a douche until I lose interest. Fantastic. Where are the grand gestures? So help me God, if I ever end up married, it will be to the guy who stands outside my bedroom window holding a boombox over his head blaring "In your eyes" by Peter Gabriel. Actually, on second thought, it doesn't even need to be that song... any Monster Ballad from the 80's will work equally well, if not better, and any guy worth my time would know that.

I wonder if she likes me???

The other night I was out with some friends, having a few beers after work. My good friend "S" was introduced to a fella whom she was instantly attracted to. All the surface details were intact: tall, big frame, tattooed, bald. That's her bag, so she decided to chat him up a bit and see where the night led. Unfortunately, after talking for just a few minutes, he did something so many guys tend to do. In what I can only assume was an attempt at humor toward a girl he assumed would laugh, he referred to herbal remedies as "magical-Lord-of-the-Rings-bullshit". Now, while I find this hysterical (even though I too, partake of herbal remedies for what ails me) she was instantly put off. To make matters worse, when we exited the bar at the end of the night, I watched the guy take the last cigarette out of his pack, crumple the pack in his hand and throw it directly on the ground in front of him. I thought my die-hard environmentalist friend's head was actually going to explode. An innocent remark that backfires is one thing, but blatant littering? Oh hell no. This is why my friend refuses to date. Call it 'the perils of acute self-awareness', but I feel her pain. She and I and many others I know, can usually tell within five minutes of meeting someone, whether or not it's worth our time to continue talking to them for another five. She's stellar at it, though she does have a few years on me. I usually know, but tend to give guys more of my time than I should, out of pity, curiosity or sheer boredom. What kills me, is guys that try to impress me with things I have no interest in. Granted, if I've just met you, it's somewhat understandable, but I'm pretty much an open book, so after a few hours, you should know your audience. I once had a guy pick me up for a date and after we got in his car and started driving, he made a reference to the car and somewhat arrogantly asked what I thought of it. "Oh." I asked, glancing uninterestedly around the interior, "What kind of car is this?", since I hadn't noticed and didn't really care. Apparently it was a Mercedes and apparently I was supposed to be impressed. Maybe that should have been his cue that I wasn't the gal for him, but alas he kept calling. A short list of things to say to me if you never want to see me naked:

"Do you want to see my collection of Samurai swords?"

"When I was a kid I used to shoot cats with bb guns."

"I talk to my mom at least 3 times a day."

"Wanna go burn one?"

Now, obviously these situations are relative. If I were out on a first or second date with someone who casually mentioned wanting to settle down and have babies, the only thing left in my chair would be a Jess-shaped silhouette of dust, left behind as I ran screaming down the street, whereas if my good friend "A" was on the same date, she'd be ordering another dirty martini and mentally doing period-math to figure out if she was ovulating. I'm certain there is someone out there for everyone, it's just a matter of trudging through a lot of wrong ones and almosts and maybes until you eventually find someone you truly adore...or can at least put up with for awhile.

Can I buy you a cup of coffee, or pay your mortgage?

I am exhausted. This summer has taken it's toll on me, both emotionally and physically. I've worked some very long hours and had a whole lot of fun. Some would say I've been "burning my candle at both ends" for awhile. Things I've learned: 1.) It is entirely possible to survive on a diet of caffeine, sugar, alcohol and cigarettes. 2.) If you sleep 15+ hours on your day off, it is then possible to function on a mere 3+ every other day of the week. 3.) If you do this long enough, you will eventually crash, realize 3 months have passed you by at an alarming speed and decide you need a vacation to an island in order to recover. This is where a sugar daddy would be quite convenient. I've often joked about wanting one and in fact, I and a few of my friends have had such "opportunities" present themselves over the years. Fortunately, we all have fairly high standards and are plagued with these pesky morals that keep us from submitting. Would it be nice to quit my jobs and instead spend my days shoe shopping, getting spa treatments, and sipping lattes? Yes. I think I would enjoy the hell out of that, but only for about a week or two. Then I would get bored, begin feeling useless, fall into a downward spiral of self-loathing and begin pining for the days when I was a tired, yet self-sufficient, slave to the masses. The larger dilemma, of course, is the implied sexual payback. My understanding is that those resort vacations and $90 facials, come at a price and the fact is, I can't stomach the idea of whoring myself out to some 50-something, overweight, pasty, boring business man. Ideally, when I happen upon the man of my dreams one of these days, perhaps as we both reach for the last bottle of '07 Seghesio Zin at the specialty wine shop, in a very meet-cute, Hollywood way, he will already have made his millions and he won't tell me at first because he'll want to make sure I love him for him and that I'm not just some gold digger. Of course, I'm not, so we will end up falling madly in love and moving into his amazing, yet humble Outer Banks beach house, which I will proceed to decorate with expensive wicker furniture and gauzy curtains that billow in the ocean breeze. But until then, I will continue to haul my tired ass to work every day with a smile on my face, because if nothing else, I have my pride and an intoxicating sense of possibility...