Setback

I fired my realtor today. At least, I didn't *fire* him. I lied about my reasons for not seeing more places for the next couple of weeks. He has slipped a few times already and we have only been working together for 10 days. I don't intend to continue working with him. It's sorta like dating, I guess. I just want it to be over but I don't have the balls for the unpleasant honesty.

So there's a week gone in the quest to be not homeless. It feels like a setback but that's because I'm impatient and unhappy, unsettled and frustrated and lonely. I miss my shoes. And my bed. My pillow and sheets and kitchen utensils and did I already mention my shoes?

It's not really a setback though. I learned quite a few things. But I realize that I am officially a high-maintenance first-time home buyer. And I'm completely overwhelmed at the thought of doing this all on my own. MFV says I can talk to him but I can't. He's too busy at work to email me back and it's too late in the evening for us to have a reasonable conversation by the time he's home and has had dinner. I am tired and sad. I want him to move here so we can be together but I'm too scared to hope for that.

Fortunately work is an escape, though not having enough to do makes the time pass slowly. I think I have enough to do tomorrow that it should go by faster. And I think I'm going to get a new phone. I'm going to try out the iPhone for two weeks and if I can't handle the touch screen, the store manager will let me switch to the Blackberry. Many people tell me that I will never leave the iPhone once I get used to it. So I guess I have a date with my new iPhone tomorrow night. That, at least, feels like progress. I do need a new phone and, considering how much I am paying for just minutes now, I might as well get some fun stuff out of it.

Lonely

I'm homesick. My Twitter/facebook update would go something like this if I wasn't afraid of sounding too vulnerable in front of the whole world:

Missing the sound of the furnace kicking on, the water sloshing around in my pillow, the feel of my bamboo sheets against my legs, the zen view from the couch, the hum of the fridge, my bedside water carafe, blue LEDs in my computer, the knowledge that I can walk around in the dark with minimal risk of bodily injury... Which is not to say that I am unhappy. Just feeling alone in the Universe and disconnected from the things which normally comfort me.

But actually, I am unhappy. I bought two pairs of shoes today which almost makes up for this disconnected, discombobulated feeling. Almost. Something isn't right in the world. I know what it is. It's the reason I spent the latter part of this evening watching the hockey game with a glass of sauvignon blanc and my shopping bags in a bar on Davie Street. I don't know how to fix it though. These things are apparently quite beyond me. What I want most is to bolt. I'm really good at running away. But what if I run away and never come back?

Confused

I know I wrote recently that I would not blog about my relationship with MFV but I am feeling so confused at the moment and obviously have nobody to talk to about this. He has been spending time with my sister, which, at first I thought was sweet and helpful. And I still want to believe that's all it is. But he's been helping her catproof her new condo and I'm starting to turn a bit green around the gills. He doesn't even like cats! But he took her to IKEA today to get something which would help the situation. I wasn't really clear what that was though. A dog, maybe??

I'm not close to my sister. We're too different. I've tried but I just can't have a meaningful conversation with her. He has tried to reassure me that he's attracted to me and therefore would not be attracted to her. She's the skinny, pretty one. I got the brains (and I like to think the personality!). There were a couple of evenings when he didn't text me back and it wasn't until we talked later that he told me what he was doing but not who he was with. He only told me when I asked who he went with. After that, I told him that I would be more comfortable if he told me ahead of time that he was going to hang out with her. Otherwise it feels as though he's hiding it and he said it wasn't a big deal. But something feels off this evening. Maybe I'm imagining things.

I guess, if it's going to happen (or if it has already happened), there's nothing I can do about it. But, if it does, there's no way around it. I will feel betrayed.

Tea and ladies

Why don't men call when they say they're going to call? What is up with that? I hate it and I probably will never understand it. It frustrates me and I feel unloved, insignificant and neglected. Thank God for girlfriends and afternoon tea and tiny scones with devon cream and tea in teapots with teacups and saucers and strainers and all the dainty things that make me happy. Also, I am looking forward to copious amounts of alcohol tonight. (By copious, I mean two drinks).

Defense T minus 11

Defense is on August 27 at 2 pm. I am starting to feel overwhelmed and stressed and anxious. Really, the thing that worries me most is the unpredictability of questions. Everything else will be okay provided I spend every spare second of every day between now and then preparing thoroughly. I have to finish my presentation before Thursday which is when I will be doing a run-through with my supervisors. Then I have another week to think of and prepare answers to questions. Basically, anything I wrote in 150+ pages is up for debate. I'm scared.

I took yesterday off to decompress with the other grad students. We had brunch at Watermark in the Harbourfront Centre and ended up at the beach at Ward Island which was actually not completely disgusting. We may go back in two weekends when we're done with our defenses. In the evening, we ordered pizza and had a drink and bitched and moaned and complained about school and thesis supervisors. It was fun and I might even miss these girls when we're done. I probably won't see them again after convocation.

Meanwhile, Grey went here last night. http://www.wickedclub.com/

I don't know how much more of his crap I can take. I know that I have been saying that for the last year and a half but I'm starting to feel used and abused. Underappreciated and taken advantage of. It's wearing me down slowly. Well, maybe when the thesis is over, I will welcome the drama back into my life.

Speaking of drama, MFV might come visit at the end of September on his way to Morocco. While I want to go with him to Morocco, I'm not sure if our friendship can stand this test of real life exposure. I haven't seen him in 3 years. I don't know if he knows what he wants from me but I'm tired of guys flip flopping between wanting to be with me and not wanting to be with me. Don't I deserve to be with a man who knows what he wants? I guess I will wait to worry about him until I see a flight number.

Also, that place I didn't make an offer on? It sold for more than $30K above asking. It appears I can't actually afford to buy the type of place I want in this godforsaken city. It has been a bad news day all around.

Thesis panic

Holy fuck. Pardon my language. But I have a buttload of work to do. I'm not sure I can finish my thesis before my time in this program expires at the end of August. I am extremely anxious. I'm meeting my supervisor at 10 am. We're going to have to talk about a final drop date for this thing.

On a happier note, I get to puppy-sit next week. Oh, except he's not a puppy anymore. I'm pretty excited about that. I might ask to work from home next week so that I can focus on the thesis and not stress too much about getting home to let him out.

Programmed to be single

There's something wrong with me. I think I have been single for so long that I have forgotten how to be not alone. Also, I think I have been through so many crap relationships that I have no idea how to be happy when I have found one that is more than halfway decent.

This guy is a good guy. He's not classy or well-dressed or super successful or even terribly good looking. But he is good to me. He genuinely cares (I think) and I do believe that he wants to make me happy. And, for the most part, I am happy when I'm with him. He can be a bit awkward sometimes. Goofy when he should be serious. Scattered and distracted instead of attentive. He talks about moving in together and rings and marriage and it's waaay too early. He has even referred to me as his girlfriend in a joking way to salespeople which is so totally unnecessary. And he's a bit aggressive with the physical contact. That sounds much worse than it actually is. He just has a tendency to always want to be touching me or kissing me or ripping my clothes off. Which is tolerable in private but I'm a total prude out in public. Anyway, I have digressed far beyond my original point. So far, these are the greatest of his sins. Perhaps I should have listed the things I like about him. He completes my unspoken thoughts. He makes me laugh. He hugs when I need it but don't know how to ask. He tells me that he likes me. That I'm beautiful and blah blah. Often. I should be happy.

But, when he's not around and I have missed his phone calls and I'm tired, I start to feel like I don't want this anymore. I start feeling unhappy and dissatisfied and imagine all the different ways I could bolt. If this situation was of the usual dating variety, I would just not call or make contact for a while until the feeling passed. But I have to see him at work tomorrow morning. So now I'm thinking of ways to avoid him. Places to avoid include the water fountain and the coffee room and the printer room. Not taking lunch or running errands to get away. Coming in late and/or leaving early.

God, what the hell is wrong with me? Why can't I just be content?

No Right Answers

I spent all day yesterday being exhausted and stressed. Then I spent all day being stressed. Then he called and now I feel better. We talked for an hour and he seemed honest and sincere and I was reassured by the fact that he didn't pretend to have all the answers. I don't know what will happen but I'm prepared to wait and see. Maybe it will be nothing. Maybe it will be something. Maybe it will be in between.

We might go for a walk tomorrow night when he gets back into town.

I went over to X's parents house for dinner tonight. Whenever someone asks me what my favourite food is, I think "X's mom's cooking". I used to tell people that when we were together but now it would just sound silly. But that woman has magic fingers. Everything she makes tastes yummy and I can't seem to reproduce it. I'm probably lacking TLC. Anyway, we had roast beef and popovers. Do you know what a popover is? Yummy, eggy, goodness which just happens to be hell to my digestive system. Whatever. I ate two. TWO! It was totally worth it.

I can't function

Isn't that one of the signs of depression? For several years now, I have suspected that I might be prone to depression but I'm too scared to ask my doctor about it because of what she might say. There's a history of mental illness on my mother's side of the family but I don't know what exactly because nobody will talk about it. I mean, maybe we're all just OCD and anal-retentive. Because that, I can (and do) own. Also, I've gotten so good at faking happy when I'm out in public that I'm scared to drop the mask, even for one second.

But I can't function. The apartment is a disaster. I can barely hold my life together. My thesis has ground to a halt and I funnel all of my energy into staying on the ball at work. I go to work exhausted. Then I come home and I'm more exhausted. I barely have the energy to get to the classes I like at the gym. And it seems I'm on the verge of crying all the time. Sometimes it hits me like a ton of bricks, out of nowhere and I'm totally unprepared. It's a good thing I hid at home for most of the weekend.

I'm so exhausted from faking it. Can't I just stay at home in bed for the next two weeks?

Boring but productive Sunday

In a cruel twist of sadistic irony, the Universe is mocking me. The more I seem to work on my thesis, the more my workload seems to be multiplying exponentially. Just because I'm studying bacteria... it doesn't seem fair!

I did get a bit teary-eyed about C le V today but then I realized that no man on the planet is going to put up with my neurotic, inane tv-watching habits. Usually, when the music gets too scary and my heart starts to pound, I turn off the sound and read the closed-captions. However, CSI doesn't seem to believe in closed-captioning. So, this afternoon I had to take several breaks during one episode because I was experiencing an uncomfortably high rate of heart palpitations. What man is going to think that's fun?? Yeah, that's what I thought. Somehow though, clinging to Pooh Bear for comfort doesn't seem quite the same. And Pooh Bear is quite large. He measures about two feet tall by three feet around. Hmmm, his proportions are remarkably similar to my own!

Ouch

I had the most wicked nightmares and woke up screaming "no" repeatedly. Now my stomach hurts and I went from hot flashes to freezing cold. It's not all bad as I would have slept in otherwise. I forgot I changed my alarm to 8 am yesterday. What I want most is to go lie on the couch and forget the nightmares. But I have to leave for a client's in 45 minutes so I'm getting in the shower. Hopefully the water is nice and hot this morning.

I'm glad we're going out tonight. I may need a nap though.

Out on a limb... or am I?

I think I mentioned I have been writing to C le V every day since he left last weekend. Tomorrow morning will be day 7. I'm thinking it might be time to put this letter in the mail. But I'm not sure if I should. I have written honestly, and thoughtfully, but I have put myself out there a little bit. Even the act of having written to him every day seems maybe a little bit... stalkerish? I don't know. Is it romantic or is it just lame? I think he will appreciate it but I honestly don't know. I don't know him well enough to gauge whether he will be overwhelmed or ecstatic. He has said before that he enjoys our emails. That he missed our daily correspondence when I was traveling. And I miss it now that he's traveling. I would like to believe I would be happy to receive such a letter from him. But should I send it?

On the one hand, I have little to lose. Just some pride and dignity should this not work out and he publishes them on the internet to general scorn and mockery. But I don't think I have revealed anything truly intimate. Just some feelings for him. Mostly mundane stuff though.

On the other hand, what is there to gain? Maybe by putting myself out on that limb, I run the risk of falling. And who knows what lies below? A snake pit? A black lagoon? A house on fire? Or maybe it will be good things, like lambs and baby pink elephants and puppies and marshmallows.

I will decide tomorrow. The envelope is addressed and stamped in case I feel brave and post it on the spur of the moment. More likely I will do the same thing I did with all of my letters and emails to Grey. They went to the graveyard of the written word: the recycling bin.

Missed

A couple of nights ago, I told C le V that I didn't know if it was a good idea if we should talk every day. He agreed that we shouldn't settle into something de facto just because. And I told him he wasn't supposed to agree with me. He made me laugh when he asked me to hang on while he turned the lights on because he couldn't read the lines I had written him.

When I woke up the following morning, I told him that it was a moment of temporary insanity because I couldn't figure out my rationale. That talking to him is like a hit of crack and I need it daily. But I remembered again tonight. I raced home from an evening out to maybe catch him before he went to bed. No joy. His phone was off by the time I tried calling. And now I feel empty and unmotivated, despite having a mountain of work to get through this evening.

I really wanted to talk to him before dim sum with Grey tomorrow morning. I can't explain why. I haven't even told him that I'm having dim sum (or issues ending things) with Grey.

I'm almost hoping that Grey chickens out of the talk. Oh well, nothing I can do about it until it happens. I smell like Korean bbq. I'm going to do some work now, in case I'm a mess tomorrow. Which is likely. Very.

Screw up

I always fuck up the good things. He's not coming next weekend. And I'm not sure if I'm going to see him the following weekend. I feel bad for being the reason that his buddies are going to get turfed out of a free place to stay. And he wants to slow things down. I'm not good at that. I'm better with the emergency brake, backing the car up and tearing back up the same dirt road that got me here. I told him I wouldn't be sleeping with Grey anymore. I'm not sure if that's a promise I'm capable of keeping. Not because I don't want to keep the promise. But because I feel stupid and small and worthless. And when I feel like this, I do stupid and worthless and reckless things. For example, I am going to smoke a cigarette now. I know it will make me feel shitty. I really don't want one. And it's cold outside. But I know it will numb the pain and stop the tears. So I go in search of temporary relief. Because I don't know how to stop wishing I was dead. I'm sure everything will look better in the morning.

I've said too much

The confusion has ended. 10 hours of sleep helped significantly with that, as did being officially blown off by The Crush. I am relieved. I am starting to develop real feelings for this other guy. Real enough that I don't want to doom it by giving him a blog name. We just spent an hour and 45 minutes on the phone. It was all going wonderfully well until the end of the call. He was funny and we talked about his coming down here in two weekends. Then I told him about Grey. It came up and was unavoidable. He already asked me what I did today and I fudged and felt guilty. I didn't think dim sum, a bad movie, a joint and a mind blowing orgasm with my booty buddy would go over too well. When the subject came around again, I felt like the Universe was giving me a second chance to make things right. I'm being vague on purpose. The details are irrelevant. He just knows that I have an active partner and that we are no longer dating. That we're friends with benefits without the friendship part.

I feel like an idiot. I'm not sure if I will hear from him again. He seemed to be fine with hearing it. In fact, it was more of an issue for me. Because I care what he thinks and don't want him to think less of me for this. He should, I know. I do know that. But he said he wasn't judging. I wish we could have had that conversation in person. Maybe we'll talk about it more if I do see him again. I want to be excited that he wants to come and visit. But now I just feel nauseated. I hate myself, sometimes.

My head hurts

Part of me feels intensely relieved. I am back home as scheduled and my thesis lab work is officially over. I feel good about that.

I haven't heard from The Crush since last Thursday night. I sent him a text message after the wedding was over on Friday. Nothing. I sent him another text message on Monday when I found out we were coming home today. Still nothing. On the off chance that he didn't get them - even though he got them before - I called and left a voice mail this evening. No return call. I am so confused. I really thought there was something.

However, the outrageously cute one, the one that lives in Montreal, was really, really good to me. And that is terrifying. He was considerate, thoughtful, well-dressed, well-spoken, made me laugh, was quiet when I was exhausted, gave up almost his entire weekend for me, took me to Sunday brunch with his sister, and waited until very late last night to finally make a move. We stayed up until 3 am fooling around. He is a hot man. Nice body, great smile. Just the sight of him waiting on the Metro platform for me last night filled me with relief. I haven't felt that way since I met X.

I didn't get back to the prof's house til 7.30 this morning. I did the walk of shame and I was okay with that. I even had to take a nap at a service station for 45 minutes just to make the drive home safely. He called me tonight and we had a good conversation. He wants me to come back to Montreal in two weeks because he has symphony tickets and no date. Even though our mutual friend warned me off, he seems like a really great guy. Decent and even a little shy.

I am so confused. I don't know that I have what it takes to do the long distance thing. I want someone with me here. But when I didn't see him on Monday, I missed him. And it was nice to sleep next to him. He made me breakfast this morning. I'm scared and I'm not sure if I'm ready to be unsingle yet.

How can I be waiting for the one guy who makes the Universe stop spinning to call me when there's another guy who has put in the effort, has made me laugh, is cute and decent, was a perfect gentleman for five days and gave me his undivided attention?

I am so confused.

Nuit blanche

I have never had such a change of heart about spending time alone as I did in the last 4 hours. At 1.30 am, I got home from spending most of Saturday out with friends and knew I would be high on caffeine for hours. I wanted to go to Nuit Blanche but I was scared to leave the house at 2 am and wander around Toronto on my own in the freezing cold. I am so glad I talked myself into it. It was great! In fact, if I'm still here next year, I'm going to do it on my own again instead of finding someone else to go with. It was so much better to pick the exhibits I wanted to see and spend as much time taking photos as I felt I needed. It was wonderful to experience it on my own. And then I ran into a friend and saw the last two exhibits with her which was fun. I wish it went on longer so that I could see more of the exhibits and really spend time taking them in. If I wasn't so tired, I would be thoroughly energized right now. I will post a couple of photos later but now I'm going to brush my teeth, call A and get into bed.

Dream

I dreamed about Grey. It was vivid and so very real. When the strength of my emotions tugged me back into consciousness, I wasn't sure that I had been dreaming. We were lying in bed, intertwined closely together. His face next to mine, our heads on the same pillow, our breaths mingled. I turned my head ever so slightly and our lips touched. Folded together gently, softly like flakes of pastry. The tips of our noses rubbed together. He held me a fraction tighter. I can feel his skin against mine. His shoulders and arms. His smell. The weight of his legs on mine. Even in my dreams, he takes my breath away. I struggle to inhale. He kisses me and I feel as though I'm levitating off the bed. I feel drugged. And I awake close to tears.

I know what Asshat is going to say. It's all the pot-smoking. He's probably right. But, even fully conscious and several minutes later, as I sit here letting the words leave my heart through my fingers, I can't seem to release the steel band around my chest.

In my attempt to move on, I find myself with a decent man. He sent me an email today that warmed my heart and made it melt. He promised that, when he finally decides to kiss me, my knees will buckle. But he won't make the decision lightly. I struggle to treat him well. He is kind and considerate and a rare breed of gentleman. The baggage I carry around makes me harsh and ungenerous. And then I feel regret and remorse for not being nicer. He makes me want to be a better woman. I'm terrified. And the tears come.

Solo date night

I went to the movies alone today. Me. Alone. It was not as scary as I thought it would be. It was scary trying to talk myself into it, and originally I hadn't planned to go alone. I sent an email to Big Mac and Grey and the guy who wrote Mr Rebound and a couple of girlfriends. But, of course, everyone was busy. I was on the phone until the very last minute and then I had to rush to get out of the house and get to theatre with enough time to get the kid's pack of popcorn and see the trailers. Once I was out of the house, it was just like any other day walking around campus on my way to meet someone or run errands. Who knew it could be so easy? As an aside, the kid's pack is the perfect size for me. A small bag of popcorn, a small pop and a small packet of twizzlers. They should almost call it the Singles Pack.

It turned out that I was plenty early and/or the movie started really late. Probably the most uncomfortable part was sitting by myself in the centre of the second highest row (my preferred theatre seating because that places me in the centre of the screen) waiting for the movie to start and watching couples and groups of friends pile in. It wasn't busy so that helped but there weren't even ads to keep my brain occupied. I ended up texting Grey and X that I was at the movies by myself.

X was proud of me, I think. He had gone to see Indiana Jones and didn't like it and Grey was at home, naturally. I saw Made of Honour first. I'm not a huge fan of Grey's Anatomy but McDreamy really is dreamy. Patrick Dempsey did nothing for me before the season finale of Grey's Anatomy. But now I think I'm in gusty stomach-sighing lust with that man.

The second movie was easier because I had to rush to get to the bathroom and get a seat and missed most of the trailers. But, given they were both girly movies, they probably had all the same trailers. Usually by the time I'm done watching all the trailers, I've forgotten what I came to see. The second movie was Baby Mamma. It wasn't quite as funny as I expected it to be but I did enjoy it. Tina Fey can blend well-timed comedy with sincerity and realistic Oh Crap moments. I should watch her other movies.

I think the most exciting part of the evening was the trailer for Mamma Mia. I have been waiting my entire life to see Colin Firth and Pierce Brosnan in a movie together and it's happening this summer! That movie could be a giant pile of crap but I'm already planning to buy the DVD. Those two are in my top three. I may have to replace Mike Holmes with Patrick Dempsey as my third.

I think I'll go watch the second half of Pride and Prejudice before bed. Sigh.

Misery monster

I'm still miserable. I'm still fighting off tears. I want to go to bed but I'm scared. I think I have a date on Thursday but I don't want to go. I don't want to be with anyone else. I don't want to put myself out there again and again and get hurt again and again. I want someone to hold me at night and reach for my hand when we're walking and look forward to our time together. But I don't want to look for it. I want it to be here now without any of the risk or heartbreak or sacrifice.

Well, it appears that not going to bed has not prevented the crying so I might as well give in to the monster.