[Dating Papers]

I’m not tired because I’ve been staying up late having fun. I’m tired because I’m still a little sick. I’m not deathly ill or anything and, in fact, I’m feeling much better than last week. I even walked to work today–which didn’t wear me out. I’ll be getting back to the gym any time now.

That said, I’m not in the mood to write. Strange, no? I saw a couple of movies this weekend and I want to get some reviews up. I’ve almost finished one of those unsolicited books, so I’ll have something to say about that in a couple of days too. But thinking about getting into that stuff just makes me tired. Forget writing about Owen. Sigh.

He left for his holiday vacation on Saturday and I hope he’s able to relax and get work off his mind. We spent a cosy late Friday evening through early Saturday afternoon together and he liked the latest present I got him (the novel, Casino Royale). We relaxed, watched a movie, he did his laundry and packed. We had time for breakfast and more hanging out on Saturday before a quick goodbye at the metro. I missed him unreasonably on Sunday–that’s usually time we’re together and I really felt the absence. I don’t like that I don’t know when I’ll see him again (I leave the day after he gets back); it leaves me uneasy, but what can I do?

Next weekend will be a challenge because, not only will it be Owen-free, but everyone else will either be out of town or spending time with their families. Christmas has no meaning for me, but it can be lonely if you don’t have family and friends around. I have recruited at least one friend to spend Friday night with me, which will be good, but that leaves Saturday and Sunday open. I’m sure I’ll do what I always do: go to the movies.

Who else is around and doing their own thing this holiday? Want to go to the Eden Center and a movie? That’s what I did last year and it was a darn good time.

I’m probably taking a few days off from the blog, but you shouldn’t worry about me. I’m not lying in a ditch or crying my eyes out. I just need a little break.

Grateful for: time off.

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It’s the time of year to get sentimental, at least for me. It’s nearing the two-year anniversary of the blog and I’ve been looking back at what I wrote at this time last year. I’d seen my dad and had a big fight about my reproductive prospects–luckily, we haven’t touched that subject again. Maybe he’s encouraged that I have boyfriend who is an actual prospect? Who knows. I sure don’t plan to ask.

And, at almost exactly this time last year, we had our office company party at TR’s house. He lives right around the corner from me, making it very convenient. Spesh was here for a visit and I dragged him along. He spent most of the time talking to Diego and chiding me for drinking so early in the day, but it was a good time. This year, there won’t be any Spesh and it makes me miss him, especially after our long conversation yesterday.

This year, I have an actual boyfriend I could bring to the party, except that he can’t come because he has to work. I mean, most people have to work at 2:30 in the afternoon, so I don’t blame him, but it would have been great if he could come. Oh well.

On Saturday, Owen is heading home for a week and a half. If anyone needs a vacation, it’s him. While I’ll miss him, I hope he can use his time off to relax and get his head straight about work. That will be very good for me. The only bummer is that our vacations run consecutively, not concurrently. Just a day after he gets back, I’m off for my week-plus of family joy on the West Coast. (West Coast friends, I’ll be in touch soon. Seattle people can clear a little time for me during the first week of January. Speaking of which, is anyone up for cat sitting?)

I am still sick, though I made it to work today (it’s a short day, what with the party), and I feel very blah. Not unhappy, just fuzzy and out of synch. I would like to see Owen before he leaves, but I won’t find out until the last minute if he’s available. Sigh. I could push, but what’s the point? I’ll hear from him today and we’ll figure something out. I don’t mind in the least keeping him company while he packs, but I know that’s not everyone’s cup of tea. I do need to see him, though, because I made him some brownies to take home and I have something else to give him for the trip.

Happy weekend everyone. You may be hearing from me if I’m sick and stuck at home. It’s good for blogging, at least.

Grateful for: a short day.

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As my fellow dating bloggers know, we sometimes get asked to review books. I’ve turned down a few offers and accepted a few, though I’ve only written (poorly) one review (it was for Unhooked Generation). (I also reviewed Breakup Babe, but I asked to do that.)

When I got home the other day, there was a package at my door addressed to my blog name and including the url of the blog. Yikes! I hope the neighbors didn’t notice. The package contained two relationship-type books. I couldn’t figure out where they came from or how the sender got my address. The next morning, my brain started working again, and I thought, “I wonder if they came from the same person who sent me the last book.” Indeed, it was her, a woman working in the “online marketing” division of a publisher.

Is it wrong to be annoyed that she sent these books without asking first? Probably. Hell, if I’m The Post, or The Times or the P-I, I’m sure the books just show up unsolicited and I, the editor (!), decide which ones to review. Wow, who knew I was so powerful?

The problem is, I’m unlikely to read any of these books cover-to-cover. I did glance at them, though, and I may change my mind about one of them.

The first is “How to Set His Thighs on Fire” by Kate White. It sounds like a sexy book and there are a number of sex tips, not surprisingly since it is written by the editor-in-chief of Cosmopolitan. However, rather more of the book than I expected was devoted to the story of Kate White’s career. There is no narrative line in the book; it is a series of tips on career, how to please your man, how to get him to please you, etc. I’m not saying there’s nothing to be learned from this book. I especially liked Chapter 8, “Toss Out Your Five-Year Plan,” which emphasizes being open to good things as they come along instead of being locking into a rigid plan–but I find it slightly disconcerting that it is followed by “Guys Will Do Whatever It Takes to Get You into Bed.” Most of this stuff is common sense, which doesn’t mean it’s not worthwhile, it’s just not that interesting. Also, it’s not a book you can read straight through. I’ve dipped into it here and there, but I may never read the whole thing.

The other book I won’t read, and which I won’t even skim, is “dating Up: Dump the Schlump and Find a Quality Man.” Need I say more? I’m sorry, J. Courtney Sullivan, you’ll have to find someone else to review your noble effort.

(I was home sick today–yes, again–and talked to Spesh for a while. He says I shouldn’t apologize for trashing this book without reading it. In fact, this is an indirect apology! So…too late.)

Last, I might read, “I love You, Let’s Meet” by Virginia Vitzthum. She even has a blog. I like her. I’d hate to give her a bad review. I read the first 20 pages and I liked what I read. I’ll report back later.

So, thanks, Candace, for giving me this opportunity. I’m not sure I’m the right person for the job, but it could be fun.

Grateful for: opportunities.

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My dad called me at work yesterday. He does that from time to time. He called the Friday before last and I told him my Owen-related troubles. Poor Dad. He didn’t know what to tell me, though he presaged some of the blog advice and said, “Just make other plans. You do that a couple of times and he’ll get the message.” Dad has some good ideas! I don’t mind so much telling him this stuff because he’s not judgemental and nothing he says makes me feel worse, which could well happen in a conversation with mom.

Dad called again last week to check in and I was doing better but was still not feeling a hundred percent good about things. Yesterday, I didn’t go into details but I said everything was fine. From the tone of my voice, Dad could tell it was true. I didn’t tell him how I’d resolved things with Owen, but I did tell him about some of things we did together this weekend: our trip to Costco, dinner with his friends and bowling.

Then Dad asked me what I wanted for Hannukah. I said, “I don’t know.”

“Money?”

“No, I have plenty of that.” We laughed. “I want a present. I can think about it and give you some ideas.”

“Oh, I’ll figure something out.”

I said, “You know, I told Owen that he should get me a present, but I didn’t have any suggestions. And I told him if I didn’t like it, I’d be grumpy. No pressure!”

Dad said, “I hate that! When people are grumpy about their presents…your mother was like that…and her mother.”

“Really? Mom was like that too?”

Dad said, “More your grandmother. Terrible.”

“Wow. I thought it was just me. I know it’s bad but I can’t help it. I never say anything, but I can’t hide it. I don’t know what to do about it. Like, last year, Mom gave me this sushi making kit and the last thing I want to do, ever, is make sushi. I didn’t know what to say, so I just said nothing. And then she called me out, ‘You didn’t like it, did you?’ She knew!”

Dad laughed.

“I told Owen that story and he said, ‘It’s fun to make sushi.’ I said, ‘Really? Maybe we can do that together.’”

“So, that’s good, maybe you’ll get some use out of it.”

“Yeah, only a year later! But, no, it’s good. Owen’s so enthusiastic–maybe it will be fun.”

Dad got off the phone without and I still hadn’t come up with any present suggestions. Oh well. I will be VERY PLEASED no matter what he gets me.

Now that I think about it, I don’t do that grumpy-if-I-don’t-like-the-present thing anymore, except with my mom. She has kept me in that bad habit by sulking when I don’t get her EXACTLY what she wants. We don’t have any problem telling each other what to get but sometimes I want to surprise her–I’ll see something and I’ll think it’s perfect for her, so I get it. She is often not appreciative of these gifts. Darn it. I wish I hadn’t warned Owen about my potential grumpiness. I know I don’t do it with friends–a while ago, a friend got me something that was not really my style, but I was very touched by her thoughtfulness and I genuinely appreciated the gift–and I even grew to like it. Not to mention the Barbie-covered air freshener the Little Sister gave me that sat on my toilet for ages, which I hated, but was so touched by that I had to display. So, I’m good now! Could someone tell Owen, please?

Speaking of presents, I’ve already gotten Owen three. I could have bought him several more things and spent hundreds of dollars, but I opted a few relatively inexpensive items. I don’t want him to feel pressured to spend a lot of money on me or to shower me with gifts. Sometimes, when I see something I know a the person will like, I just buy it. I don’t always wait for a holiday or birthday to give the gift. I hope this makes up for my inability to remember anyone’s birthday (except my parents’).

A few times as a teenager I got presents from Dad that were awful. It was especially galling because Dad had always been good at picking things I liked. After he married Susan, I could see her fingerprints all over my gifts. One year “they” got me the most ridiculous, ugly reversible multi-colored cotton jacket–which also converted to a bag. Mom thought it was “cool” but she allowed that anyone who knew me, including Dad, would figure out it wasn’t to my taste. One year, my gifts included seven pairs of underwear. That’s right, Susan mailed underwear to me from California. I was sort of insulted (even though she got me the “right kind” of underwear). I was grumpy about this for ages, but mostly because I wanted the gifts from my father to be chosen by my father, not by my stepmother. She meant well but had a seriously mistaken impression of what I would like. These days, I don’t worry about it too much. I’m just glad when Dad doesn’t forget my birthday or remembers my age (he’s usually off by a year). Whatever he gets me will be fine, as long as he picks it out.

And Owen? I trust that he will get me something, sometime in the general holiday period. Technically, it will be a Hannukah present, but unless he gives me something on Friday (first night of Hannukah!) I won’t get it until after the fact. I’m not picky about when I get my present(s) just that I get them at all. This year, I only hope Owen likes what I got him. I actually gave him his first gift on Friday and he was delighted. I’m off to a good start.

Grateful for: appreciating the thought.

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Barbara tagged me to write six weird things about myself. I’m not sure how weird these are. Perhaps I’m blind to my true weirdness? This is is what I came up with:

1. I like to take things apart. I disassemble and reassemble every pen I get my hands on. Hand me a flashlight, the first thing I’ll do is open it. (A few years ago I was visiting an old family friend who is in her eighties. She handed me a very nice, non-functional Mag flashlight. “Here, you can fix this.” I took it apart and “fixed” it. I think the problem was the batteries were in the wrong way.)
2. I’m known as the “computer person” in my office because I understand some of the more obscure functions of MS Word. I can get rid of the “©” when you really want “(c)”. I’m the “tech-savvy” friend because I can set clocks, program VCRs, program cell phones, download podcasts, record audio streams and install software. My parents have each scheduled phone time with me so I can guide them through software installation. If they are going to buy new computers, they consult me first. When my mom buys a new computer, she either waits ’til I’m home or buys it right before a visit so I can set it up for her.
3. I can’t stand clocks blinking “12:00″ or clocks that tell the wrong time. If you possess a clock in this condition, I will attempt to reprogram it (eventually), but I will ask your permission first. (My boyfriend has piece of art in his apartment that resembles a broken clock with the hands stuck at five to twelve. I do my best not to look at it when I’m at his place. When I see it, I want to “fix” it.)
4. I am “bad at math” but chose a quantitative (mostly statistical) PhD program. Some of my closest friends are math majors. My boyfriend has a math degree.
5. I balance my checkbook every month–without fail. (I used to do it on paper, now I use the computer, which is much easier.)
6. I have a list of the names of every boy with whom I’ve ever had a date. I started the list because I wanted to break my mother’s record of 100 dates with different guys (her approximation). I broke her record but I took at least six years longer than she did–since she got married when she was 26. As soon as I broke 100, I lost interest in the list. I’m not sure where it is.

I hate tagging people (though I love to be tagged). Please tag yourself if you are so inclined.

Also, it would be fun if you could tell me one weird or unusual thing about yourself in the comments. When I taught, I asked my students to do this and it was always very interesting. So, readers, consider yourselves tagged!

Grateful for: our weirdness.

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Friday (the entry not published)
So, today, I was out of the office at an all day meeting. The meeting is one of the more interesting of the all day variety, but I still had a hard time focusing, staying awake and keeping warm. Why is it that these meetings are always in freezing cold rooms? They do give us lunch, which was nice, and the meeting ended early so I had a chance to do some shopping and reading afterwards.

Of course, Owen and I have tentative plans tonight. I heard from him on Thursday, but it wasn’t to do with Friday. That was fine. I let him know I’d be out of the office and that I wouldn’t have email access. I figured I’d hear from him eventually. I didn’t want to call because that might be interpreted as “pressure.” Lordy. This situation has put me a bit on edge. After my shopping adventure (4 new pairs of underwear–woo hoo!), I decided to go home. I thought, I’ll call him at 5:30 if I haven’t heard from him by then. A few minutes after I got home, at approximately 5:30, guess what happened? He called.

We decided that he’d come over and hang out–just a relaxing night at home after a long, hard week. I’m ordering some Thai food in a few minutes so it will get here around the same time Owen does.

Saturday (written on Sunday)
Owen fell asleep very early on Friday, around 9:30, (I went to sleep around 10:30) so we managed to get up at a more or less reasonable hour on Saturday. I had the car, so we drove to Virgina, got some breakfast and went back to his place. We also talked about a lot of things, including some of his relationship fears. There was no arguing, just some good heart-to-heart stuff that we don’t usually do. In the context of a discussion about being happy in relationships, he said, jokingly, “That’s right, I’m going to call you every day and say something mean…”

I said, “You’re going to call me every day?!?”

We burst out laughing. Later I said, “You know, if I write that exchange on the blog there are going to be people who don’t see the humor at all. They’ll tell me ‘you are so needy! stop being so demanding.’”

He said, “You have to put the right punctuation after it, so they’ll get it.”

When he got to my place on Friday, he told me about how crazy work was and how stressful it’s been. I was glad that he was able to get some of that off his chest. When he ran out of work stories, I said, “The blog kind of exploded this week.” I told him about the record-breaking number of comments and how I need to get better perspective on the negative things people say. We didn’t much discuss the details of the post until Saturday evening. Owen asked, “What was the post about, exactly?”

I told him it was about our argument on Friday and the discussion we had on Saturday and how he came to dinner with my brother. I said, “Lots of people accused me of wanting constant contact or telling you to call me every day when I said no such thing.”

“They’re not really reading–or they’re just deciding that’s what you did even though you said something else.”

“Yeah, a lot of people bring their own experiences to bear and decide that’s what I’m doing. It’s funny.”

I also asked him why he wasn’t interested in reading anymore. “Well, when I saw there wasn’t much about me, I kind of lost interest.” We both laughed because we know the whole damn thing is about him these days. He continued, “I decided that I didn’t need to read since it’s all based on conversations we’ve had…I don’t need to read it. Also, it feels like a cheat sheet. I want to get to know you in person.”

“That’s a very good thing. But you are interested in the comments–which are based on what I’ve written, not our full interaction–so maybe you should see the version that I’ve written.”

“I’d probably only remember as much as you’ve written anyway, so it doesn’t really matter.”

I like his take on the blog. I asked why he wanted me to tell him about it if he didn’t want to read. He said, “It’s an important part of your life and I want to hear about it.” Isn’t he sweet?

You might wonder, dear readers, how everything got so easy when just last week, it was so wicked hard. The answer is that I gave up. I saw where things were heading, how they’ve been, and I decided to stop fighting it. I was fine all week, just knowing that I was going to see Owen on Friday. It freed us to relax and have a good weekend.

On Saturday, I laid it out for him, “You know, maybe we can just decide that we’ll see each other on weekends, at least for now.”

“Ok, that sounds good.”

“I would like it if we can make some kind of plan–the way we did it this week worked fine for me. If I know I’m going to see you on the weekend, then I’m good.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. I’m good about letting you know if something comes up.”

“You are good. I don’t see why it shouldn’t work. And we can just not worry about mid-week stuff–you know, unless something comes up.”

After this conversation, I could almost feel a shift in Owen’s attitude. He was warm and affectionate for the rest of the weekend. I felt happier too. I also told him how some of the comments suggested that I just make other plans and not wait for him. He said, “Yes, that’s a good idea!”

“You know, you said that last Friday too. I should have put it in the post. But I don’t want to play games and I don’t want to make ‘other plans’ right before you go out of town for ten days.”

“No, but it doesn’t have to be a game. I’m not saying make plans for the whole weekend vindictively, but you should make other plans if you want to.”

“Oh, I’m sure I will. And then you’ll learn your lesson.”

“I will indeed!”

I have to say, we handled all this really well. We even had this silly argument on Saturday when we were trying to give Owen’s roommate, Barry, directions. Owen explained which exit to take from the metro but I didn’t think Barry was following. Barry asked for the address and I said it was on 9th St, near G, and I asked Owen to confirm. Owen didn’t confirm, he just kept repeating his directions. I said, “Barry doesn’t want that, he wants the cross streets.” Owen was annoyed and when we left he snapped at me. We got in the car and he said, “Do you notice that we fight about the dumbest things?”

I laughed and said, “Yes!” He laughed too. I said, “I was just trying to get you to confirm that I had the cross street right.”

He said, “But I don’t know the cross street. I just know how to get there by getting out the right exit.”

“Well, see, I didn’t know that. You didn’t say that. But I know it’s easy to find the place if you can get the right exit.” And as soon as we saw that we were at cross purposes, we relaxed, laughed and I can foresee fewer silly arguments in our future.

Regarding the “weekends only” dating, I’m not saying that I can indefinitely have a relationship that is weekends only, but I can have one that is weekends only for now (whatever that means). I’m going to stop pushing and expecting and start enjoying what I have with Owen, which is pretty damn good. And whoever thinks this happened because of the good advice you gave me, you can pat yourself on the back. (Actually, most of the comments just made me question my future with Owen, which was a rather unpleasant.)

Saturday, we went to dinner/bowling with his friends and it was a good time. I was supposed to also make it to a friend’s holiday party, but I was lame and skipped it. (Sorry, K, hope you got my text apology.)

We were there until 12:30 and a young couple moved to the lane next to ours around midnight. The guy entered his name as “Jesus.” He had that white-guy Jesus look–longish, straight hair and a beard. (He was a brunette, though.) He had a peculiar bowling style and made some very difficult spares. I said to Owen after witnessing one, “It’s a miracle!” Jesus was wearing a button down shirt, which he removed to reveal a t-shirt that said “Steelers.” Jesus is a Steeler’s fan. Of course, it had to be.

Sunday
In the morning I went to book group. I almost finished the book, but didn’t quite make it. I was joined at the meeting only by Max, who hadn’t even obtained a copy of the book. We hung out and talked about this and that for about an hour. I said I thought we should go on hiatus, but Max said, “It’s like saying ‘let’s take a break’ when you’re dating. Too wishy-washy.” Being wishy-washy about ending the book group doesn’t bother me. I just know I don’t have the desire to lead the group anymore. I’ve pretty much abdicated my leadership responsibilities over the last several months anyway. I dunno. I might be ready for a new group, or a new version of this old group, in six months, but, for now, I’m done. I want to set my own reading pace and pick my own books for a while. I’ll miss the opportunity for discussion…but if I find it hard to live without, then I’ll try and reactivate my group or find a new one.

Owen, Barry and Bonnie were planning to go see the Borat movie today. Owen knew I didn’t want to see it again–but he still invited me. On Saturday he asked when book group ended and then said, “Maybe you can meet us after the movie–we can all get dinner together.”

I said, “That sounds good.” And that’s where I’m headed right now. Later gators.

Grateful for: acceptance.

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I confess. I like to give directions.

Luckily, in this town, I get plenty of opportunities. My office is near a metro stop that is close to the Mall, but from which you cannot see the Mall. Many couples, families, cute German guys, get mired in a sea of anonymous office buildings and have to ask me how to get to the Air and Space Museum.

It never ceases to amaze me that so many people ask me for directions. Every place in the world I’ve ever been, people have asked me for directions. Sitting on a suitcase in a train station in Italy; walking down Brooklyn Ave. in Seattle (on several occasions); on the street in Jerusalem; by a bunch of Japanese teenagers in Paris. I’ve been asked for directions when I’m on my bike, waiting at a red light, or by someone in car crossing my path, causing me to stop. Do I look like I know where I’m going? Maybe it’s just that I seem safe to approach.

Today, on my way back from coffee, I was stopped by two men wearing suits and rolling small computer bags who asked for directions to the Treasury Department. I said, “Well, you’re in SW now, but I’m pretty sure it’s in NW.” I remembered my friend who worked for the IRS and I said, “I think my friend used to work there and it’s definitely not around here. You know, all of us, all the departments, have offices in places other than the main building. Your friend might be working around here. I’d probably want to check on that before hiking all the way across the Mall.”

“You’re right! Thanks so much.”

“Sorry I couldn’t be more help.”

I’m such a dope–the Treasury Department is right next to the White House. I know that. At least I had the quadrant right.

Oddly, perhaps, I don’t like to ask for directions. When I travel, I bring a map. Those people who like to give directions? They’re usually wrong. Not me, of course. As I’ve stated many times, I am always right about everything.

(Owen update: he emailed today about our weekend plans (we have a couple of parties to attend). I was pleased.)

Grateful for: the chance to help people.

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Last night, I went to a preview of Blood Diamond with C-Money. It’s been too long since I’ve seen a movie with C-Money…months, I think. We got to talk a little before the film and on a cold and windy corner afterwards.

The movie was brutal; like a kick to the gut. It was like watching a movie about the Holocaust–it couldn’t be too grim. When there was a humorous moment, it was hard to take. You almost felt guilty for laughing. But you were also relieved to have a chance to laugh. The civil war in Sierra Leone is one of the most horrifying events in recent history. The rebels chopped off hands, arms, feet…it was unbelievable, unimaginable…but it happened. That’s not to mention the recruitment of child soldiers, the enslavement of civilians in the diamond “mines” and the destruction of many cities and villages.

The film tried to tell a particular story but had grander ambitions. The grand ambitions took away from the impact of the small-scale story. What do we care about UN meetings decrying “conflict” diamonds? Show us more of what it was actually like to be in Sierra Leone during the war. Those scenes were harrowing. People being shot right and left, with no rhyme or reason, no sense of why any of it was happening. The film also managed to convey the way people act when they know there is a war going on close by but not right there–the way they pretend it’s not happening.

Probably the best thing about the film was Leonardo DiCaprio. He played a Rhodesian and he nailed the accent (well, I think he did–I first claimed him to be South African). Similar to his recent turn in The Departed, he played a completely sympathetic anti-hero. He’s turning into one of the best actors of his generation. Versatile, creative and magnetic. I never liked him much before, but after these two most recent roles, I’ve changed my mind. Jennifer Connelly, while adequate, was wasted in a thankless role as a brash American reporter. She saves the day more than once, but her acting was flat. And it was annoying that a nice white lady ended up being the savior for a couple of Africans (DiCaprio and Djimon Hounsou). The plot was compelling and not entirely believable. Also, it was one looong movie, running about 2.5 hours. I’m not sure what I think of Hounsou’s performance–he played a naive village fisherman who loses his family, which may account for the stunned look on his face for most of the movie. The ending is satisfying–perhaps a tad too much–though not exactly happy. I can’t whole-heartedly recommend this film, but if you have any doubt that the diamond industry is evil you should probably see it.

(Aside regarding my on-going issue with the age disparity between male and female leads: Jennifer Connelly is four years older than DiCaprio! Their relationship is romantic in the hopeless, impossible sense–as opposed to the sex sense.)

Grateful for: getting to see a movie with C-money.

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All the comments on the last post got me kind of energized. There are a few things I want to clarify:

1. Owen is a great guy and I’m crazy about him. If I didn’t have strong feelings for him, I wouldn’t get upset when I don’t hear from him.
2. The root of our conflict is the way he prioritizes work in his life (at least during the week). It’s great that he’s ambitious and works hard. I respect that he wants to advance in his career. Perhaps work is more important to him right now than a romantic relationship–that’s something he needs to decide. However, giving attention to important relationships (including friendships) should not be incompatible with a busy work schedule.
3. I care very much about what Owen wants and needs. I’m working hard to respect his needs without making myself miserable.
4. I understand that being with Owen hinges on my capacity to accept things as they are. Things may not change. It’s up to me to deal with that.
5. I have no interest in changing Owen. Yes, I’d like him to be more responsive/interactive mid-week. But I don’t want to change him fundamentally–I LIKE him. I like his humor, his silliness, his perspective. I like that he’s ambitious and loyal and hardworking. When we’re together, we have a great time. I don’t want that to change.
6. I don’t expect Owen to go overboard. I don’t need daily contact. I could care less about ever getting flowers. What I want is to feel close and connected to him. I like to feel connected to my friends too, but, as Pele will tell you, I scale back my expectations when they are very busy with work or other things. There are no recriminations. I do expect more from a boyfriend, maybe too much, and I’ve scaled back those expectations substantially with Owen already. I trust that Owen and I can find the right balance between his need to focus on work during the week and my need not to feel cut off from him.
7. I’m happy to accommodate Owen. Many times at the beginning of the evening, I don’t know where I’ll be sleeping and I don’t “demand” that every second of our time together be planned. In this way, I’m flexible. When he agreed to go swing dancing, then canceled to hang out with Frank, I was fine. I went to his company holiday party because it was important to him that I be there, even though I knew I might not enjoy myself (happily, I did enjoy myself). I never complained or made a fuss. Why would I?
8. I see some give and take as a normal part of a relationship. I’m happy to do him favors and it does not feel burdensome. Heck, he still has half my kitchen, which I loaned him for Thanksgiving. It just seems like not that big a deal.
9. When Owen and I have talked on the phone during the week, it was FINE. He liked talking to me. And I felt better.
10. I am done talking about this with Owen. I can’t stand it. I’m bored with the topic and I don’t like how it makes me feel. I also don’t like that he feels pressured. The last thing I want is to make things more stressful for him (and it seems that I have, which saddens me). So, I’m done. If I’m unhappy with the situation then it’s on me to get out or adjust my perspective. I’ve asked, I’ve talked, I’ve explained. There is nothing more I can do and nothing more I should do. More talking only makes this worse.
11. I have plans tonight, Wednesday and a back-up plan for Friday if it turns out that Owen isn’t free. I’m taking care of myself.
12. Last, this week, so far, I haven’t felt the need to call. I did send an email today, but I don’t care if he answers or not. If we get together on Friday, that will be enough. Well, I think it will–perhaps you should check back on Thursday to see if I put the lie to that statement.

Grateful for: knowing what I want.

Drop me a line.

Last week was not the happiest week in relationship-land. Thus, the lack of posts on the topic. I knew comments would fall into two camps: 1) be patient with him and stop stressing out so much about nothing–he likes you! and 2) you deserve better and why are you being so patient with someone who doesn’t treat you with the consideration you deserve? The third choice was that I would get no comments at all (also unacceptable!). In any case, I couldn’t face it. So, after my historical post, I gave up and decided to take a couple of days off–not that I had time to write this weekend anyway.

I was hanging in there pretty well until Friday. My frustration was mounting on Thursday, but I had a happy hour to attend that evening and Pele called and I vented to her and it all seemed under control. What was the problem? I hadn’t spoken to Owen since Sunday. He’d answered some emails of mine on Tuesday but neglected to answer a couple I sent on Wednesday. When Friday rolled around and I still hadn’t heard from him I started to suffer.

Why was I suffering so much? I can’t really say. Admittedly, it was inconsiderate of Owen not to answer my messages. I also wasn’t sure when I was going to see him again and I don’t like that out of control feeling.

On the other hand, there was no reason to think I wasn’t going to hear from him eventually. I knew the problem was his work and how he deals with it when things get crazy. Clearly, things were crazy and that’s why I hadn’t heard from him.

I knew it, but I couldn’t handle it.

Friday was a disaster. I got very little work done and I couldn’t focus. I was angry and sad and just a plain mess. And I wondered at myself–how did it get so bad? Why was I having such a strong reaction? Why couldn’t I keep my emotions in check?

I promised myself not to send Owen an email or text or call. But I broke that promise on Friday. In the afternoon, I sent him a very short email asking that he let me know he was alive. He didn’t answer. A few hours later, I sent a text saying, “hello?” He didn’t respond. Finally, I called him.

I said, “I need to talk to you and I need to know when.” He explained that things were crazy, he’d already worked 60 hours this week and he’d call me as soon as he got home. Which he did. That conversation was something of a fight.

I was so frustrated on Friday. I just couldn’t understand why I felt as low as I did. I could not contain myself. I wanted to be calm when I talked to Owen. I more or less succeeded.

I can’t reproduce the entire conversation but I asked him to tell me more about work and he did. I was sympathetic. And I said it would really help if he would talk to me and explain how crazy things were. He said, “But I TOLD you it would be crazy this week.”

“No, you said it would be bad. I didn’t know that meant you couldn’t answer email.”

“If it’s usually bad and I say it’s going to be worse than usual then you should expect this.”

“To not hear from you at all? No. And, no, I did not get that it was going to be so much worse. But now that you’ve actually told me more about what is going on, I understand.”

“You know, there were lots of emails I couldn’t answer–that I could get fired for not answering!”

“Look, you can take a minute and write to me–at least to say that you can’t respond fully now.”

“That would be enough either! You’d still want more. It’s never enough.”

Oh sigh. It was not the happiest conversation. And I don’t agree that it would not have been enough. As Pele pointed out, how can he say whether or not I would be satisfied with something he didn’t do?

What I tried to explain was that if he wants to be in a relationship, he needs to bend just a little. I don’t expect to see him every day and I can live with not seeing him during the week, “I’d be happy to talk to you a couple of times a week–for 10 or 15 minutes.”

Owen said, “You don’t understand–when I have one of those terrible days, I need to do nothing. If I can do nothing, not talk to anyone, not leave the couch, for a couple of hours, then I can be ready for the next day.”

I said, “I understand that feeling…but do you think you can take 15 minutes from your downtime to talk to me?”

Then he sighed.

I said, “It’s really hard for me to feel so connected to you on the weekends and have such an intense good time together and then have hardly any contact at all during the week.”

He said he “gives” me his entire weekend (it’s perfectly true) and that it’s crazy that it’s not enough. He doesn’t understand why having almost no interaction with him during the week makes me unhapppy. But no interaction leaves me feeling neglected and ignored, even though I know very well that he likes me.

I said, “There has to be some way to handle this so you don’t feel burdened and I don’t feel abandoned.”

Shortly after that, we got off the phone. He suggested that we have brunch on Saturday and talk more–and we did.

He came over Saturday, late morning, and used my computer to do some work. I was happy to have him there and I puttered around, unloading the dishwasher, folding laundry and tossing him the occasional comment while he worked. This may be a solution when he gets a laptop and can do some of his work from home (though I do wonder if this mythical laptop will ever appear).

We goofed around and were our normal silly selves before and after he did his work. It felt good and happy and I was glad that we were still relaxed and comfortable around each other. However, we hadn’t actually resolved our problem and I knew we would need to have a more serious conversation–one I was dreading.

We went out for a late lunch/early dinner and I said, “I know you don’t want to, but I think we need to talk about this again. I really think we can figure something out.”

He wasn’t so sure–or at least didn’t seem to have any suggestions. I repeated what I’d said before about needing to at least talk to him during the week. He said, “So now you’re telling me what I have to do.”

Oh sigh. I said, “Look, no, I’m telling you what I would like–what I need to be happy. You can tell me what you want. What are your thoughts?”

Silence. He seemed so frustrated. I didn’t know what to do. “I know we can work together and come up with some kind of solution. Really.”

We talked about some other things that were not quite so sensitive. When our food arrived we ate quietly and I thought about possible solutions. I said, “I have an idea. You tell me if you think it would work. What I would like is to do is decide by the end of the weekend if we’re going to get together on Friday.”

“You mean, decide on Sunday what we’re doing on Friday every week?”

“Not every week. Just this week. We’ll try and see how it goes. We can figure out the details on Friday afternoon, when you know when you can leave work.”

“Ok.”

“But, if you can’t get together on Friday–you’re too tired or there’s a happy hour or whatever–then let me know by Thursday afternoon and I will make other plans for Friday.”

“So let you know by Thursday?”

“Right. And–try to answer my emails and talk to me if I call you. That’s it. What do you think?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Ok.”

“Look, if you don’t like it, tell me. I’m open to other ideas.” But he didn’t have anything to add.

We finished dinner and chatted easily after this conversation–somewhat to my surprise. We went back to his house and while there was talk of meeting up with Frank, it never happened. Barry was home and we three hung out watching tv until 12:30 and then it was time for bed.

The next day, Owen’s friend, Linda, was supposed to come over and watch football. He’d invited me to join them, which I appreciated, and I was planning to hang around. Unfortunately, Linda never did show up–but we still had a good time, eating biscuits, watching football and horsing around. Actual roughhousing occurred, which was amusing and only slightly dangerous.

The other excitement on Sunday was a very short visit by B1, my brother from New Jersey. He came to DC on Sunday afternoon and the plan was to have dinner with him on Sunday evening. B1 particularly asked to meet Owen (this was the topic of one of my unanswered emails). When I talked/argued with Owen on Friday, he told me he was game to meet my brother and the plan was still in place by Sunday. I didn’t know for sure B1 was coming, though, until he called me at 2pm on Sunday afternoon.

I probably shouldn’t have told Owen the story about the time B1 offered to beat up Tom (important grad-school boyfriend), but Owen didn’t seem too uncomfortable. He did get a little cranky about the last minute nature of our plans–we didn’t know exactly when or where we were meeting B1 until he called again at 7pm. It’s rather amusing that Owen was grumpy about last minute plans when, um, that’s how we do EVERYTHING. But I digress….

Dinner went well and, while Owen was quiet, he fully participated in the conversation and was friendly and good natured. Whew. B1 doesn’t need to protect me from this one! As always, it was good to see B1, and I was sad when we said goodbye this morning. I will see him soon though–in just a little over three weeks.

So, to sum up: I’ve been fighting with my boyfriend because I feel ignored during the week. I tried to come up with a plan that would help me feel more comfortable during the times he’s out of touch. I hope he doesn’t feel like it’s “too hard” or too much trouble to talk to me during the week, even when he is all stressed out. I want to let him deal with things the way he needs to, but I also thinks he needs to flex a little if he’s serious about having a relationship. As for me, I would like to see him more often, socialize with our friends more often and have a closer relationship. I want more but I enjoy the time we have together so much that I’m willing to compromise. However, I need a little more certainty about when I will see him and hopefully I’ve found a way to get that, at least in the short term. There is a lot of doubt in my mind about how things are going to go…yet I’m still quite hopeful. I want it to be easier–I want to remember the good parts. I trust there will be a lot more good to balance out this rough spot. There damn well better be.

Grateful for: compromise.

Drop me a line.