Well, what do you think of the new name/look? It's still me, boo-hooing myself to exhaustion, searching for answers to questions that have not yet been asked. I wonder what that means. Hmmm.
Searching for answers to questions that have not yet been asked. That's an interesting comment that I will have to explore a bit more.
Did I ever tell you that I think my dramatic life change was brought on by my absolute mastery of Sudoku (a game that I have yet to pronounce correctly on the first try)? Okay, perhaps absolute mastery is pushing the envelope a little. A lot. But I think I'm pretty good. It complements my brain: numbers and logic. You get this grid with nine squares, and there are nine squares inside each of those; seemingly random numbers are inserted in some of the squares (where they are and how many numbers are what determine the skill level of the puzzle). Basically, if you have seen it, you know what I'm talking about; if you haven't seen it, there is no way that I would ever be able to describe it to you easily. Anyway, it's a numbering game: the numbers 1 - 9 are present only once in each row, each column, and each small set of squares. It requires logic: it won't go here and it won't go here but it might go here and it absolutely will go here. You use a series of deductions to determine what number should be in each little box. Look right to left, look left to right, up and down and down and up, look at each box individually and the puzzle in it's entirety and deduce what number fits where. And I like it. And I'm good at it.
I always used to say I was the opposite of that saying "she can't see the forest for the trees". Most people look at each individual tree so intently that they don't see that they all stand together to make a forest. I was the opposite; I couldn't see the trees for the forest. I was so used to the broad view, which is how I see things, that I would forget to also look at each individual tree. I couldn't find the answer if I looked at it this way so I learned to look at it this way and up and down and over and around - and then I started doing that with my thoughts instead of puzzles. When I wonder why I act a certain way, I now use my Sudoku concept of thinking to figure it out. I look at it from every angle and I am amazed at some of the answers that I found.
Does that make sense at all? I should just delete this right now. It takes me a hell of a long time to get through a story - because I have to describe the whole forest instead of just telling you about this tree. God, I talk a lot. About nothing. What do other people do? Do other people talk this much? Maybe the world is comprised of talkers and listeners and you just have to find the one that complements your level. When considering men in the future, I think it's important to my sanity to talk to someone who's views I actually am interested in and want to hear, instead of just waiting for my turn to talk. I want to be with someone that sees things basically the way I do. Not that he agrees with every thing that I say, just that our brains process things in a similar way.
Speaking of which, I have to tell you: I developed a bit of a crush on Colin when he was here the other day. He made me breakfast. Perhaps some background first: I met Colin when I managed the mall about 9 years ago. He did commercial HVAC and worked for the company that serviced the mall. He was very cute and very flirty and very safe because he was married and I was with Karl and we were just teasing, having a little innocent fun. We started going to breakfast. I have no idea how that started but every few months or less or more, we would get together at the ABC for breakfast. Eventually I did his books for his side-business, residential HVAC. I left Karl and moved in here, the flirting became a bit more intense. I was lonely. I was excited. I was eager to have some fun and break some rules. I was out from under the control of the Karl. I was in control. One night, after a couple of bottles of wine, I called him and he told his wife that he had a job and he came here and he fucked me. Kinda, not exceptionally good but he was pretty freaked out that he was here so I think his dick was reflecting that. And I was freaked out, too; it was the first time that I was with anyone but Karl for 5 years (and Karl was the first person that I had sex with sober since my first time and I think Karl was number 27 or something - how fucked up is that?).
It was somewhat weird and uncomfortable afterward. I realize now that I didn't know how to deal with men after; I had always been drunk so you go home (or he goes home) and you never ever see the guy again if at all possible. Unless he was really fun and then you would go for another round. Rarely more than twice, if ever. In my life, afterward used to consist of getting up from the floor of that porch with the guy whose name slipped your mind hours ago and go back inside to your friend who brought you here to the party and introduced you to the guy that she liked - the guy you just fucked. (Why doesn't Tracey like me anymore? Can't remember! Fuck.) I also didn't realize that I would feel so disgusting for sleeping with a married man. Or did I? Disgusting? Or just another step down the degradation ladder that led to my own personal little slice of hell?
We remained friends and eventually took up the breakfast thing again and the flirting, although never to the same degree that we were at when we tripped. I never liked him in that way; I didn't think of him as a potential fella. He was just number 28 in the legion of men who fucked me because my legs were open, who talked to me because I was there - and I gave it away for free. Sure he liked me enough as a friend and confidant. His marriage wasn't happy and I think he liked our flirting and I think he liked talking things out with a woman.
Yesterday he said that he is amazed that we haven't seen each other in so long and many things have changed but here we sit as if barely a moment had passed. (Sound familiar? Ian, Rog, Craig, Fabe said "there's just something about you, Bev". And it would piss me off; what a fucking line. I would never allow myself to believe that they might mean it.) And he was right; it felt as if barely a moment had passed. It was very comfortable. He came into my home and cooked me breakfast in my kitchen. It was quite... quite... close... intimate - not in a romantic way, just intimate. He didn't overly flirt or get on with his constant innuendo - and I was very glad about that. He was respectful and kind and lippy and saucy and fun. We talked about what I was doing, why I quit my job, why I was living here again. And we talked about his kids and his business and his wife and his unhappiness at home.
He used to say that he and his wife were pals, roommates who raised their children together. She never wanted to have sex - which is what I went through with Karl - but they got along fine. He said he couldn't leave her because of his children (nine years ago they were 3 and 5). Now he says that they are still roommates who are raising their children together but they no longer get along well. They fight, bicker, ignore. He told me about their conversations, about her blaming him for everything, her not wanting to go out even to the pub on a Thursday night to mix it up a bit.
He was floored when I told him that these were the same stories that he told me the last time I saw him - almost two years ago.
Except he seems to have a vague plan to leave her.
And I can't stop thinking about him.
I also can't stop thinking that I fall in love with every guy that I meet.
And I refuse to repeat those old, self destructive ways again. If he wants me, he will have to come to me. That goes for any man. And then we'll see.
