It’s been fun!

Hello loyal 7 readers!

I want to let you know that I feel this blog has run it’s course, and it’s time to move on.  I know, I know, I could still keep this going, but I think what I’d really like is a nice fresh start. Mark thinks so too.

And so, if you’d care to join me, I’m going to be here:

http://isweatflowers.wordpress.com/

from now on.

Instead of chronicling my dating, I’m going to simply write about my life, as it centers around food and exercise, and my cat. Don’t be a stranger!

Let’s Play More Catch Up

Later that week, on April 6th (I keep detailed calendars, ok?), Mark and I drove up to Danvers, MA, where his family lives., to have dinner with his parents.  I was really nervous, because I have this thing about me where it’s really important that EVERYONE likes me.  This is, of course, exaggerated by about a billion when I’m meeting the parents of the most amazing guy ever (who actually seemed to like me back).

Luckily we got to the restaurant about 15 minutes early and managed to order some wine to quell my anxiety.  By the time they showed up I was feeling a little more like myself (and less like my stomach was going to rid itself of all contents), and WHAT DO YOU KNOW?

They’re lovely people.  His dad is a small stereotypical Italian from Brooklyn and his mom is from around Boston.  They were kind, friendly, and welcoming.  Just like Mark.

At one point they were asking me about my Italian family and I said that my mom was ½ Roman, ½ Sicilian (an important distinction to Italians, but not many others).  His dad got this really big smile on his face and high-fived me over the table.  Mark reached his hand under the table and grabbed squeezed my knee. Turns out unbeknownst to me, Mark’s Italian family comes from Sicily.  I think I actually gave MYSELF bonus points for that one.

It’s funny; a glass of wine (and reality) makes life so much easier than it is in my head.  We had a lovely dinner, and then got in Mark’s car and drove back to his apartment.  It was still pretty early, so we went inside to fool around hang out.

As things were “heating up” (man, I hate that phrase, but I can’t think of a more polite way to say that we were making out and his hands were up my skirt), Mark stopped and pulled his face away from mine.

“So … do you want to me my girl?”

(still with my skirt at my waist) “Yeah.  Yeah I do.  I’d really like that.”

It was just so organic and simple; it made me happier than I have been in a really long time. And so far (it’s still going strong) it’s not only the happiest I’ve been in a relationship to date, but I also believe it’s most likely the healthiest.

And before you ask, yes, eventually my skirt came all the way off.

Let’s play catch-up

Every time I was hanging out with Mark, it seemed that I was having better time than the time before. My roommate was recently doing this exercise about past relationships, and asked me what I liked so much about him.

R: ok, well what does Mark like about you, do you think?

me: HA. my ass.  No for real, he thinks I’m smart. and clever. and I’m nice. and friendly. GAH these are so generic, maybe i will ask him

R: i know! you should

me: It’s funny that couples never seem to really talk about this stuff. no wonder people are insecure

R: YES that’s so true! i need to incorporate it in my next relationship.  what are some things you like about Mark?

me: he’s odd. and funny. and quirky in just the right way. and he’s down to earth, but confident and charming.  I feel like we can go to a fancy-pants night out or sit in our underwear and watch bad TV and he’s comfortable doing both. he’s very thoughtful and accommodating. and makes me feel wanted without making me feel smothered or uncomfortable

Rebekah: aww! those are really good things

me: I KNOW

On top of all that, our chemistry is everything I’ve ever wanted in a relationship. The sex is fantastic, and HE THINKS SO TOO.

After about a month of steady dates and great sex (I’d guess this was early April.  Let’s not talk about how it’s already mid-June), I decided that I wanted to have “the talk” where we would discuss our relationship. We always had fun together, but had never had deep serious discussions about ~life~ or our personal lives. I wasn’t really sure that I was ready for a boyfriend, but I knew I wanted to keep him around.

One night as I was driving him home I said,

“I don’t want to overwhelm you, but I think we should have that discussion about what all this is. you know, “THE RELATIONSHIP.”

“Right now? We’re almost at my place and it’s 11pm ..”

Although I did want to talk about it right then, I was anxious and so I grasped at the out he had just given me. “No, not right now. But I just wanted you to know that it’s on my mind and the conversation is coming.”

“Oh. ok. I should let you know that I have this thing, where it’s really important for someone to meet my family before we get into a steady relationship.”

“Oh. ok … “

“So maybe we’ll have to find a time to go up north and have dinner with my folks.”

“OH! yeah, ok. Yeah, I’d like that!”

And so I dropped him off and drove home with butterflies in my stomach.

A milestone is one of a series of numbered markers placed along at intervals …

Mark and I have started to see each other almost on schedule, usually once during the week (although maybe twice if I managed to swipe him some free food from my office), and then once on the weekends.  We spend most of our work days on gchat with each other, and although we don’t have the steady 8-hour-long chats that I have with Viv, I keep his box open and he has said that he does the same with mine.  There is usually a text or 3 a night as well, depending on the day.

OH! and the big thing.  Just about the last week in February, we started sleeping together. Our goodbye make-outs had gotten longer and longer, and February is not a warm time of year in New England to stand on the driveway or porch and make out all night.  One day he suggested that we put some effort into making out inside a little more, and so one night instead of going out we decided to start in and order takeout.  He came over to my place and we ordered Thai and watched Inception, and he spent the night.

YOU GUYS, IT WAS AMAZING.  This boy has more stamina than any other guy I’ve ever been with.  He claims it’s because he’s older, but I think it’s just because he’s that much better at sex than my partners of the past have been.

However, my mind is a big giant jerk and as soon as he left on Sunday morning I was suddenly hit with the thought, “OMG, should I tell Paul?”

As my relationship with Mark has begun to grow. my textual relationship with Paul has faded.  We were still texting casually, but I stopped the minuscule flirting I had been using in the past.  I hadn’t mentioned that I was seeing anyone, but I always told myself that if I wanted to sleep with anyone, I would disclose the guy’s existence to Paul.  In the meantime, I made a point not to text Paul when I was with Mark, and so my responses had gotten shorter and very delayed.  I started to tell myself that Paul probably knows that something was going on, and so I just disclosed less and less. And so the texted slowed even more. I made a major break through in early March, which I shared with my book club the day after it happened.  I heard my phone beep with a text, and hoped it would be Mark.  When it was Paul, I was disappointed.  I didn’t even read the message, I just put the phone back down and went on with my day.

It’s weird, I always thought that Paul was the one person I was SUPPOSED to be with, but I don’t know why.  He never understood my sense of humor, for one thing.  We had an awful time communicating because we practically spoke two different languages, and we still have almost nothing in common.  Looking back I know that all these reasons are why I broke up with him in the first place all that time ago. I knew that someone more ideal for me had to be out there.  But we were apart for almost a year, and I didn’t find anyone remotely close.  I think I had just started to resign myself to the fact that he was the one I was suppose to be with, because that’s how life was.  Being at camp, I was reminded that we were part of the same little group in school, and always ended up together, even if it seemed that it was by default.  I was getting older, and was running out of time to find someone else.  Then I think I got really depressed because I had broken up with my backup, and it turned out that he WAS NO LONGER A RELIABLE BACK UP.

Our last text exchange was on March 18th.  He texted on a Friday while I was out with Mark, and I didn’t respond. Saturday came and I wasn’t out with Mark, and I still didn’t respond.

Apparently I need a flight delay to find time to blog …

The spring is always a busy time for me at work, so I apologize that I’ve let my blogging fall to the side again.  This spring seems particularly difficult, but then again I’m sure i say that every year.  Until I learn to take more time to blog at home, I fear this “two weeks on, one month off” will be a cycle of mine.

ANYWAY.  Where was I?  Right, Valentines day.

The morning after my wonderful evening with Mark and sad decline of drunken texts to Paul, I confessed my actions to Viv, Anna and my roommate. I felt bad that I’d had such a wonderful evening with Mark and went home and texted someone else.  I was angry that I felt bad about not telling Paul that I’d had a date.  Most importantly, I was annoyed that I was letting my feelings for Paul cause me to hesitate with Mark, who is (so far) perhaps only marginally short of perfect.  After a few day-long discussions, I was quickly noticing that I could not get Mark out of my mind. I came to the conclusion that I had to move on.

So when Mark texted that he was having some people over that Saturday, I didn’t even hesitate to say yes.  My roommate came with me, and we had a great time.  At the end of the night, Mark walked me to the edge of his driveway and kissed me again.  And again and again.  Each kiss was better than the last one.

And then Monday night when I had plans to watch an SU basketball game downtown with friends, I invited him along.  And he said yes.  And we made out in the cab the whole ride home.  In a gchat the next day he said to me:

Mark: Your ability to make out and give directions to the cabbie at the same time… I’ve never seen anything like it. Totally impressed.  It was like you knew somehow through some sixth sense exactly where we were.

Perhaps this should not be such a thing to brag about.  But I love that I was both capable of doing such a thing, and that he was comfortable bringing it up the next day, and FOUND IT IMPRESSIVE. I am very appreciative that our relationship has been able to develop so organically, that we don’t really have awkward moments, as friends who start dating often do.

Being out with Mark, I am continually reminded of how amazing it can be to be with someone who is really amazing.  He gets me, and I think I really get him.  We talk about books, and about movies, and about life.  AND HE MAKES ME LAUGH, INTERNET. His taste in music is very intimidating, so I’m going to let him introduce me to all kinds of sound.

Since I’ve fallen so behind I won’t bore you with every date we’ve had. I just would like to let you all know that he’s a great date and always has wonderful ideas with things to do and places to eat. And he lets me pay just about 1/2 the time, which I really appreciate.  I want to make sure that he knows I like spending time with him for HIM, and not just to get a free meal (which I have done in the past, let’s be honest).

I have a few more posts I want to share to get you all up to speed.  BE PATIENT. I PROMISE FOR REAL THIS TIME.

Emotional Slip Ups Can be Funny, Right?

I hemmed and hawed over the weekend before whether I should cancel my Valentine’s Day date or not, but Mark promised he had this great place to go that wasn’t romantic at all and offered amazing Chinese food, so I agreed. We picked a time and decided to meet after work at the T station closest to the restaurant, which was in Chinatown.

How is it possible, by the way, that I love Chinese food so much and yet have never eaten at a place actually in Chinatown?! It was like a 15 minute walk from my office.

Due to my intolerable appearance on the Wednesday before, I decided it would be best to look presentable and put on some makeup. I brought it to work with me and put it just a little on before leaving the office for the day. One of my coworkers caught me applying some eyeliner and I had to admit that I had a date that night, although I didn’t mention specifics.  They know how much I hate Valentine’s Day in the office, and I was embarrassed to admit I was excited about a date.

When we got to this place, you guys, it was INCREDIBLE.  I have provided a photo so that you can understand the glory of this amazing place.

I feel like this picture only really shows half the room, but it was the best I could do.

And to top it all off, when we showed up there was only 1 other group dining.  By the time we left (when I insisted on taking this photo) it had picked up a bit, as you can tell.Anyway, we ordered some food, family style, and ate and laughed and had a really nice time.  We made fun of the weird drinks on the menu and tried guessing what was on that “stage” back there.

After dinner, as planned, we went to the Beantown Pub to watch the SU game (who, btw, was playing West Virginia.  As I still was texting pretty steadily with Paul, I did not let that go unnoticed).  Although there was some important BC hockey game on, Mark convinced one of the bartenders to turn on the game at the corner where we were sitting.  About half way through beer #2 (which was really beer #3, because we’d both had a drink at dinner), Mark asked:

“Is this a date?”

“I don’t know. Do you want it to be a date?”

I wasn’t really sure what was going on, every time we’d hung out I’d had a really awesome time. But he had yet to try anything, and I was still all a mess over Paul.  We just kind of let the subject drop and went back to chit chat about the game. When he waved the bartender over and ordered us another round of beer, I said:

“Ok, this can be a date if you want it to be.  I’m ok with that.”

And he leaned over and kissed me. It was a good kiss.

After SU won and we finished the last of the beer, we headed to the T to get home.  I was a little worried about the commute back, as he lives only 1 T stop past me. We were going to have to ride together.

Sometimes I get weird anxiety about riding the T with people I don’t know so well.  You’re trapped in that car! What if it gets awkward …..

But I had nothing to worry about.  We sat down on the car, and across the aisle and down a bit there was a teenage couple groping each other, drunk with the love of the evening, I would assume.  We spent most of the riding making fun of them and awkwardly half holding hands. At the stop before mine I mentioned that we’d have to figure out something to do, because I wanted to kiss him good night, but we couldn’t be hypocrites and we had different stops.  So he said:

“That’s ok.  I’ll walk you home.”

SWOOOOOON.  (I was especially grateful because it was getting late and the neighborhood has an issue, as I’ve mentioned.) So he walked me home.  I was tempted to invite him in, but I decided against it. It was a school night, after all, and I was confused about liking him so much with Paul still on my mind.  Instead, we made out for a wonderfully long time on my front stoop. It was kind of perfect, really.

THEN (this is where the title of this post comes into play) when I got up to bed I noticed I had missed a text from Paul, asking how my night went. I mentioned “this awful day” and he wanted to know why it was so terrible and drunk Lizzie texted back “ITS VALENTINES DAY AND I HATE IT AND THE GUY I’M IN LOVE WITH IS 1000 MILES AWAY.” I really wanted to include “OF COURSE IT SUCKS YOU ASS” but I didn’t. Ok, maybe I was fishing for at least something along the “I miss you too” line, but I didn’t get anything even close to it AT ALL and so I started crying and then went into the bathroom and threw up my dinner.

I blame beer #3, which I also credit for at least that first kiss with Mark. So it’s a draw, really.

It won’t be long, yeah

The Wednesday after the Superbowl I got a text from Mark, asking if I wanted to go bowling.  I said, “sure, when?” and he said, “in a couple of hours.”

I had just signed up for the 5:30 spin class at the gym, and was really excited about going, but I was exciting at the possibility of seeing him again.  So I replied that I’d love to go, but I was going to go to spin class first and I usually smell really bad after that.  I suppose it should have occurred to me to offer to shower at the gym, but it didn’t.  Maybe I was secretly testing him, idk.  If I was, he passed with flying colors: all he wanted to know was why I was so worried about smelling bad at a bowling alley.

We agreed to meet at Sacco’s in Davis (which is apparently becoming my “thing”) but when I got there he was waiting outside because that night they had league bowling and no open lanes.  He asked me where else he could take a smelly girl, but before I could answer he said, “how about Red Bones?”

It was music to my BBQ-and-cornbread-loving ears.

We had beers and ate some delicious food (steak tips, mashed potatoes and broccoli for me) and I was delighted at how nice of a time I was having.  The conversation moved along very easily, and we both seemed very comfortable with each other. After dinner when I tried to cross the street and head home, he said that if I’d like to walk with him to his place, he’d drive me home. SWOON.

On the short walk to his place, we passed a bar that had a few huge TVs with sports on them.  On one of them was playing the Syracuse Basketball game, a team which, due to growing up in Syracuse, I am an undying fan of.  I tried to glance in and see the score and Mark said, “Is there an SU game on tonight? Who are they playing?” I blurted out, “GEORGETOWN CAN YOU READ THE SCORE I DON’T HAVE MY GLASSES.”

He laughed, mentioned that he had gone to SU for undergrad, and said, “come on, we’ll watch the second half in my living room.”

So we sat on his couch and watched SU lose painfully. After the game, without trying to make a move, he got up, jingled his keys and said, “ok, want me to take you home?”

I don’t know if it was because I kept insisting that I smelled awful, but even as I got up out of the car he didn’t try anything, except to say, “can we do this again soon?”  I smiled and agreed, and walked inside.  I was a kind of shocked at how disappointed I was that he didn’t try to kiss me.

The next day I got a text from him wanting to know what I was doing the following Monday.  Which, IF YOU’RE KEEPING TRACK, was Valentine’s Day.  In the text he referred to it as “that dreaded holiday, ” and after some hemming and hawing, I agreed that I didn’t want to drink alone in the dark that night. My only demand was that it not in any way shape or form resemble anything close to romantic.

And then I realized that it was possible that I liked him a lot more than I’d let myself think.

I’ve been keeping a secret

I don’t know if I’ve been keeping this to myself because I was waiting to see where it goes or if I’m just lazy. Since I’ve been slacking and have a MAJOR new life development to share with you, I’m going to break the story of the new guy up into a few separate posts so you don’t have to read a novel JUST FOR ADDED SUSPENSE.

At the end of January I was invited out to a coworker’s birthday celebration. The coworker happens to be the roommate of a former coworker, my friend Mark, who I played softball with last summer and fall. Later on in the evening (after about 4 too many beers, I figure) he said something about me being “a girl he‘d like to take out some time,” but was hesitant to ever ask because of the Paul factor.  I told him that Paul had pretty much shot me down and that I was available.  After a few rounds of what most would consider inappropriate drunk dancing, we parted ways to go home but shared a few drunk texts in our separate cab rides home.

The next morning he sent a much more coherent text that said, “I don’t know if you meant the things you said last night, but I’d still like to take you out some time.”  Now I’ve knowing Mark for a while and have not really bothered to think of him in that way. But I’ve been bummed about Paul and keep telling myself that I need to get out and meet people, so I agreed to go out with him sometime.

We both had pretty busy schedules, so the first thing we could manage to coordinate was me attending a Superbowl party at his place. I had come down with a nasty flu over the weekend before, but by the time the game rolled around Sunday night I was depressed and lonely about being holed up at home for so long, so I showered and took the bus to his place (which is only about a 20 minute walk from mine, but winter in Boston is not a good place for a girl with the flu).

Let me tell you, being at a Superbowl party and being unable to keep any kind of solid food down is just about the most depressing thing I can think of. There were delicious-smelling snacks everywhere. Cookies, cheese, chips and salsa, tables full of dips … it was so sad to be unable to eat anything. Mark made chili, which is just about my most favorite winter soup EVER, and after half time I got up the courage to try a small bowl. It was DELICIOUS, and the thought occurred to me that I should marry him right on the spot just for his chili abilities. But I resisted. It was, however, the first solid food I’d been able to keep down in 2 days.

It was a good gathering of people: another of the guys from our softball team was there, as well as the 2 roommates of Mark’s that I knew, and some new people. I had been pretty miserable from the flu over the weekend, and my roommate was out of town.  It’s possible that I was just really grateful to be around people again, but I had a much better time than I was expecting to.

After the game Mark offered to drive my sick ass home, and I just about burst.  People with cars in Boston are not always willing to drive their car-less friends places.  Traffic is annoying and re-parking is impossible (the exact reason I left Gerard at home and took the bus, actually).  Mark happens to be one of the lucky ones who possesses his own parking spot, so I agreed to be driven.

When he dropped me off we said goodnight and he asked if we could get together again. It had been a good evening and so far things seemed fairly platonic anyway, so I agreed.

I didn’t know how I was feeling about Mark either way, but it was so nice to have someone filling my head other than Paul, let me tell you.

Internet, Meet Gerard: The Not-Very-Masculine Male Car

Since the day I got my little car, I’ve been toying with the idea of naming him Gerard, but I’ve been a bit apprehensive to do so.  Initially I wasn’t sure of the little guy’s gender, but after spending a few hours with him it was very clear that he was a dude.  Of course, his nice new-car smell and shiny glitter exterior make him not the most manly of little cars, but I love him very much.

Once his gender was determined, I began tossing the idea of the name around with some friends. Would it be bad karma? Everything Gerard (the man) touches turns to shit, so it would seem ridiculous to give a brand new car such a cursed name. But after a very serious talk with my roommate, we decided that we should take back the name “Gerard” the way women have taken back the word “bitch.”  Plus, it will be priceless to utter phrases like, “Gerard needs gas” and “wow, Gerard is filthy, I think he needs a bath.”

As so Gerard is born. Here is a crappy picture I took of him parked at the babysitters (Viv’s parking lot in Brighton):

Gerard at the sitter

I’ve has some very entertaining findings about Gerard (the man) lately. A very quick Facebook stalking session gave me his (standardly private) page, and his ex-girlfriend’s very public page, along with a status update from her about how he cheated on her and stole from her. I was hoping she would also make some happy comment about him losing his job, but as of lately I haven’t seen anything. If you google the name of the dealership (Expressway Toyota) + Gerard, the first hit you get is my really terrible review of him.  Oops.

This afternoon Viv sent me the following card that would be very fitting for him, via someecards.com:

Thanks for being so helpful

Hopefully, this marks the end of the Gerard (the man) saga, and begins the love affair of Liz and Gerard, her car.

You Don’t Bring Me Flowers

Last weekend Viv and I drove down (IN MY NEW CAR) to Rhode Island to visit a mutual friend we have from high school.  This friend got married about 2.5 years ago (we were both in the wedding party), and just had her first baby, a little girl who is about 6 months old. During our senior year in high school she had a list of colleges posted on her bedroom door that she wanted to attend.  She was going to one of those schools, she was going to study to become an elementary school teacher, she was going to get married and have babies and a family.

And that’s exactly what she did. And I think she expected all of us to do it with her. But we didn’t.

Viv and I live very single lives in the city, constantly talking our uncontrollable desire to never grow up.  We have both managed to be incapable of finding love fight the societal pressures to marry and have a family, as we know we’re not yet ready for that part of life. We like getting too drunk to remember our names every once in a while.

Lately it seems like our relationship with this friend has become strained. Neither Viv nor I are “phone call” people – an occasional text or facebook message and some solid gchat keep us together. We are both very comfortable with this relationship.  This friend, however, recently made us aware that she does not think that these forms of communication are an appropriate method for “good friends” to keep in touch.  And she feels like we’re “drifting apart” and it’s our fault. Now, I admit that knowing she had a new baby at home; I often opted not to call.  I didn’t know their schedule; I didn’t want to wake her or the baby.  But she doesn’t call often either, so I assumed everything was fine.  Needless to say, I was a little peeved that I had to guess her schedule and make an effort and she got to sit back and await my call. But I learned in about the 11^th grade that fighting with this girl was futile. You just do as she says to appease her and keep your actual opinions to yourself.

Since she mentioned it, I have tried to make an effort to call her at least every 2 weeks to see how her life is, how the baby is doing, blah blah blah.  Sometimes with my gym schedule I don’t call until later, but I do a lot of walking around and it’s very easy to find time to call as long as I don’t wake anyone.

Except, it’s weird, EVERY TIME I call, it’s like she doesn’t want to talk.  I’m not sure if she doesn’t know what to say, or if I always call at the wrong time. But I feel like she’s always trying to get me off the phone. I can prattle on for hours about Paul or my dinner  or some weird thing with a sore muscle, but it’s like she doesn’t want to hear it. I’ve tried talking about just her and her life (which I know she used to love to do), and she utters these conversation-stoppers like, “everything is good, yes, we’re fine.” I hate to use a cliché (my creative writing teacher in college would be so disappointed in me) but IT’S LIKE PULLING FUCKING TEETH WITH THAT GIRL.  I feel like she’s distancing herself, and I don’t know what to do about it.

Still, Viv and I had a nice time with her this weekend.  We did a little shopping, oohed over the baby (who is pretty awesome, as far as babies go), and spent a nice afternoon together.  So I don’t know what to do.  Do I drive to Rhode Island more often to stay in touch? Do I let it fade as she seems to want it to do? This girl is particularly high maintenance as far as friends go, but I have always felt that breaking it off would be more work than it was worth. I never thought that my “place in life” would be something that would come between me and a good friend.  Is it just what she thinks is supposed to happen?

And do I let it?