more nothings

I was going to make my update in the same post as the previous one, but I figured this one probably deserves a post all its own.

There's good stuff and bad stuff in this one, so I'll put the good first. If you like leaving things on a happy note, then you can stop about halfway through. Don't worry, I'll warn you when it gets to the bad part.

Good stuff. I called DC yesterday afternoon and she actually answered the phone. She even mentioned that she was in the middle of an art project, and I offered to call later but she said it was fine. Anyway, I spit it out that we should hang out and we even procured plans for this coming Thursday.

I don't know if I've ever described DC in detail, other than just times when she's royally pissed me off (which is every other time I see her, in which case, I always take a long walk to allow myself to simmer) but one thing that marks her is the unfailing INABILITY to make or keep plans. She's better when she just refuses to make or agree on the plans, because at least then she can't stand me up-- but she has become increasingly better at giving accurate ETA's when the plans are first made (which, subsequently, have increased in the span of time from the zero hour of the plans in question) and arriving where she says she wants to meet on time.

This throws a new bolt into the cogs of all this. She knows as well as I do that all of this is really a test. She knows very well that she's almost entirely incapable of fulfilling plans. Half of me lies here already accepting the fact that Thursday's plans will most likely go up in smoke. The other half of me really wants her to come through-- not so much for my sake. I can hang out with her any night of the week. It's not for me hardly at all. Its as though I'm rooting for her to evolve a little here. The whole idea of hanging out in 'daylight' is to get to know each other as regular people, not as a couple of bar flies that constantly flirt. I guess more is weighing on this date than I realized.

Of course, she can't know that. Even though she does know what hangs in the balance, she can't know that I know. Even though she knows, probably, that I know...I can't confirm it, therefore parlaying what little mystery I have into an unattractive transparency.


Wow. That got out of hand. Anyway... now comes the bad part.

You know how you arrive to a point where saying what's in your heart is easy because everything else seems so pointless? How the words fixate together before you and flow out effortlessly? That's the way things are with DC right now, and I seem to be making progress.

But there's another side to it. Anyone who knows me knows that my sister is probably the most important woman in my life, next to my mother. I can prove this by pointing to the day that I canceled and rejected six fully qualified applicants to be my roommate when I lived in the Spruce Street house, and took my jobless sister in instead. Soon after, we had to move into a more affordable apartment, which she thanked me by throwing a TV off the balcony of said apartment one night in a drunken rage.

I can prove it because when I saw that she'd been hurt by an asshole who'd dated her for a couple of weeks, I threatened to punch him in the throat if he said one word about her. This was a guy who was surrounded by his friends and I was alone. He wasn't smaller than me, and his friends were not women. She thanked me by bringing this guy home to bed with her a few weeks later.

When we had to move everything out of THAT apartment after being evicted for HER outrageous behavior, I spent three days moving all of her stuff into a NEW place, which I found, using only my mom's SUV. She spent the day eating taco bell and hanging out with her puppy, Chase. (by the way, Chase is a person).

I can prove it because time after time of her storming off into senseless acts, getting drunk or calling into work because she's hungover (for almost a week once) I have never disclosed her actions to my mother or father. You might say that I am not a caring brother, but I truly don't believe it's my place to tattle on my sister. She's two years older than me, and should be accountable for herself.

She thanked me for this by holding a hand on her hip and with tears in her eyes, telling my father that I'm an alcoholic and that she's afraid of living with me.

She's thanked me for this by allying with my over-worrisome, paranoid mother and accusing me of being selfish, ungrateful, and even worse, of being lazy. I'll explain this one a little more. One week ago, she announced out of the blue that she was moving out. With rent due on the first, she hid behind a shield of parental favortism and GIRLED her way out of her problems. I could not have been more livid. Nevertheless, I collected myself and said, "Okay. But I am not helping you move your stuff this time. I'm not moving one box, not one piece of furniture."
"Fine" she said.

Earlier this evening, my mother convinced me to come along with them and just help with the big stuff. I'm not an asshole. I'm not going to let my sister and mom try to carry a 250 lb couch up the ramp of a U-Haul by themselves. After agreeing, my mother says that they're getting the truck at 8AM. Ouch. After visiting the doctor today and being diagnosed with Bronchitis, I sweetly asked her to let me sleep in and drive over a little later in the morning.

Then, my sister comes storming in and berates me, calling me lazy and selfish. Says that I OWE it to mother because she packed up all my shit while I was resting today. Apparently, none of the things in my room are included in this estimate, none of the things OUTSIDE of the room even BELONG to me, and a grand total of ONE box of my dishes accounted for an entire day's work. You're right, sis. Getting up at 7:30 in the morning while I'm fighting bronchitis, on my first day of antibiotics is totally fair. Moving all your shit for the third time in 7 months is fair.

I'm just glad there's an objective voice somewhere in all this...

Oh wait, there isn't. Just two batshit women who think I am the son of satan. The real challenge? How do I politely tell them (not so much my mother, who I'd be doing it for in a heartbeat, but my sister) that I will not be guilted into moving her crap under false accusations? Oh boy, what a ride. Fuckall, just fuck it all.

Good Timing

Part 1.

Perspective: I'm sitting on my chair listening to Johnny Cash's "I Walk The Line". This song goes further for me than I ever would have expected when I first listened to it. As I sit in my kinda-shabby apartment, watching Sister's cats body slam each other, I think of the last couple of nights. A girl heretofore to be known as JB hit on me. Hard Core. I realized this ridiculous circumstance mainly because JB (a figment in my life) decided to tell me that she was up for grabs, and all I had to do was call her and she was there for the taking.. The problem? I'm not a manwhore. The other problem? How could I meaningfully be pursuing DC if I took the easy out and got laid with JB?

My dilemma is simple. There's a girl I could have had in a heartbeat if I so chose, meanwhile, a girl that treats me like shit that I've been chasing since June.

What a fucking minute. I have DC blowing me off every chance she gets, meanwhile, there's another chick saying, "Here. I'm yours. Come and get it." People who know me really well know that I hate the absence of challenge. I have mixed feelings when a super-drunk girl hits on me, even if she knows me well. Obviously, there's the initial "Hell yea!" at being wanted in the first place, especially for something like an easy sexcapade. But the thing that kept me from going for it was only PARTLY about DC. It was more about me thinking, this cannot be the product of months and months of going out to the bars and being "Me". So I stop. I think about it. I listen to myself. Here's what myself was saying:

JB made me realize two things with her drunken attempt to sack me. First, she made me realize that with my current behavior, IE, drinking and being a bar rat, only someone who knew me well enough to know that I would probably turn them dow-- and only if that person was drunk as fuck would possibly make me an offer like that.

Yea, that's not depressing at all. Secondly, JB made me realize that the first thing that came to mind as she offered all these things was the thought of someone who had been treating me like CRAP finding out about me taking up her offer, and losing my chances completely.

Wow. Can anyone say PATHETIC?

So in one fell swoop, I decided to walk the line. Goodbye, JB. Goodbye, DC. I don't need you any less than you need me, and that's a promise.

Part 2.
Perspective: I'm sitting on my couch in my crappy apartment listening to Matchbox 20. The song is "Unwell". It's a good song for feeling like no one understands the craziness you're going through, or feeling inside. Lately, I've been taking odd jobs working as the UnBouncer (unofficial) for several places. Taking out my aggressions on people who've been deemed unbarworthy, and I get to escort them out the door. It's been a good outlet. I get to feel like the big man, and I don't have to explain my meanness to anyone. If I see them again and they call me out-- hey-- I was just doing my job (at the time).

Just as I decided that DC was out for good, I went to the coffee shop today and wondered how JR was doing. I texted her and asked if she'd like to grab a cup with me. She called me back and said she was in the middle of cleaning her apartment, but if I wanted to drop by with some coffee, that'd be good.

Side Note: I dated JR for two months last year, starting in November 06 and ending in early January 07. Our breakup was quiet for me, but noisy for her. Having said that, I've regretted walking away ever since, and I still think about our time together as a couple, even if there wasn't really a name for it.

I decided to grab a paper and stick it into my bag before heading over with coffee. When I arrived, I pulled out the paper and located the crossword puzzles, which she and I spent a very quiet 30 minutes solving. Suddenly she realized we needed to go to Hobby Lobby to grab more Christmas gift stuff, so we went there. I drove. The evening was slowly evolving into a date. Things were going well. There were flirtations, reminiscences of past dates, trips, and good times, and so on. She made whole wheat angel hair pasta with home-made pesto sauce. I gotta tell ya, it was really good. I don't know if I was just REALLY freaking hungry, or if I was just happy to be in her company again, but that felt like the best home-cooked meal I've had since T-day. Schnazzas! yow.

After the meal, I asked her if she wanted to go see the Christmas lights at the square. She looked at me very suspiciously, (which I confirmed with a sneaky grin) and reluctantly (maybe just hesitantly) agreed. I kept thinking to myself if I stop smiling, I'm going to frown for the rest of the night, because I'm so damn sure that my plans are going to get shot to hell. My plan? Go for the walk with the lights, let the romance set in, then lay it out there. Then ask if she has plans for NYE, and if not, ask her out.

Part 3.
Perspective: I'm sitting in my couch, listening to The Who's "Won't Get Fooled Again". I've got a big, stupid grin on my face. JR already has a date for NYE, but she allowed a kiss... or two... or more than a few. She lamented on how confused this all made her-- which to me is a great sign. Confusion is good. Confusion isn't "No."

Now, just so you guys know, I really do like JR. As I said before, I "Laid it all out there". That, in effect, is me saying that since we broke up, that I have never forgotten her, and that my feelings have remained unchanged. I tried (up until recently) to distract myself, but I've been unsuccessful because no other girl is like JR. She will just blurt random observations out. She is a conversationalist, and even better, she's fucking brilliant. She's beautiful to me. She appears innocent, but she's got the heart of a sage. She's a lover of life, to the point where ridiculous events are more valuable to her than others simply because she sees the value of telling the story of it later.

As the evening ended, she left acting amused and bemused alike, and me feeling wishful and confident altogether.

I promise, tomorrow, I'll be much funnier.