Tag Archives: SMC

The Unemployed Philosopher

22 Sep

This is more a story about one of those guys that sneaks up on you and morphs into something entirely unexpected before you really have much of a chance to realize what’s happening. The Unemployed Philosopher is one of those guys no body “gets.” You’ve met them, a little odd, kind of douchy, aloof. If you are a girl like me you take one glance and want to punch them just so you don’t have to hear their voice, but you assume such an action would just bring on another long-winded conversation around the human race’s need to inflict pain on one another to feel powerful and dominant, yada yada. TUP is one of those…until you get to know him. Which probably explains why at 27 he was still a virgin, but we’ll get back to that.

TUP and my friend the Seaman from high school (you know, the one getting married to SMC) have known each other since elementary school. He was always a name I had heard here and there so I knew he existed, but we had never met. Until last year. That is when SMC wanted me to help her throw a surprise party for the Seaman’s 27th birthday. We planned it for a couple weeks and she asked me if I knew him. I told her the tale, which wasn’t much, and she took it from there. The day of the party she gave him my number since she was going to be with the Seaman prior to the surprise and we were all meeting at Dave and Busters. The texts prior and the party that night further convinced me he was just what I expected him to be, but I did think his brother was rather adorable (that’s important-ish later).

Months go by and nothing of note to this particular story occur. Well, other than he Seaman and SMC getting engaged. I guess that’s kind of a big deal. Especially since SMC’s psycho mother decides to throw an engagement party. The bridal party was invited and as I was asked to be a bridesmaid and TUP asked to be a groomsman, we both attended. TUP also brought his brother interestingly enough, and despite my attempts to flirt discreetly I was apparently not as undercover as I suspected I was.

Facebook being the great connector to people you wouldn’t otherwise speak with, created a little circle of connections around the upcoming nuptials. About a week after the party, I was feeding my addiction to the website, and TUP messaged me rather unexpectedly. He started by calling me out on flirting with his brother and this led to an extended conversation into the wee hours of the morning. I thought little of it, but I felt after this that perhaps I had misjudged his character. We had a lot in common and this was surprising to me. I also discovered his tendency to be more than a little honest, he didn’t seem to hide much and I respected that.

There were a few more conversations similar to that one which led me to believe his motives were not entirely based on developing a purely social relationship, and then he told me he wanted to sleep with me and my suspicions were confirmed. Surprisingly for me by that point I wasn’t opposed to the idea.

Enter my birthday.

Every year it turns into a week long extravaganza during which I roam from town to town celebrating with all my different circles of friends. This year when I was making plans with my friends back home, one of my priorities was including TUP. He ended up joining a few of us on a bar hop in Providence. Alcohol, good friends, and ending the night in a dark and dingy club created a feeling of euphoria, as it often does, and he and I ended up wandering the streets on our own in search of pizza (which we never found).

It wasn’t until sitting on the stairs under a flickering street light when he told me he’d never been with a woman that I decided he was my newest project. I liked him, I had admitted that to myself, and the addition of having that unique aspect of power and control sealed the deal. It helped that I found the ease with which I could make him uncomfortable amusing. Straddling his lap, between kisses, I told him all the things I would teach him and I could feel his excitement building.

Sidebar. Recounting this now, I realize how much it resembles a harlequin romance novel. Oops.

We went back to the car and found an empty lot off the beaten path. Under the stars (yes we went outside, the hood of his car seemed more interesting than the back seat), we kissed and disrobed, and I realized just how much work I had committed to, but it was fun and felt a tiny bit dangerous. Before we could actually engage in the big finale, however, TUP noticed another car had pulled into the lot and after hastily replacing out clothing, we jumped back into the car. I had a big laugh, he was not as amused and didn’t get quite the same rush, but he was a trooper. He brought me back to my car and we said good night.

I went to Arizona for the rest of the week (post to come) and so it was another week until any plans could be made to make good on my newest life goal.

I got back on the following Monday and invited him over for some Monday night football. Living in RI and being unemployed (don’t judge), this was not the simplest of tasks, but he managed to find a way and despite the traffic, survived the trip. The night was, eventful, more for him than for me. He was a virgin, I didn’t expect much, and we had some fun. It was simple. Very by the book, but I liked that we could laugh and joke around about the awkwardness for him and the challenges presented for me. It was refreshing to not have to be “on” and in the game since I was literally the best he’d ever had.

The next morning was just as easy and simple. We went for another round, took showers, I made breakfast, we went for a walk around Salem since he’d never been and we just talked. One of his friends texted him at some point to ask how it went, and he let me respond which I found amusing as well.

After he left I really felt that there was a connection. I wanted more time with him. I wanted to make something out of the raw materials he presented. We shared an honesty, a need to remove ourselves from the pressure society puts on us to be in a mold. I believed there was a mutual respect and understanding in the personality aspects we both held that often reflected negatively with other people. It was promising and then some.

Its been a couple weeks since that moment. I haven’t seen him and our conversations are not nearly as intriguing and insightful more often than not. Reality has set in. He’s unemployed, far away, and difficult to be spontaneous with. Even if I were to put aside the fact he’s never had a girlfriend and doesn’t react the way I expect to my womanly snares, it seems I am falling into my regular pattern after the bubblies of a new possibility die down. It is interesting how every time I truly believe I won’t find a reason to end up here, and every time I’m not all that surprised that I do.

Who knows, maybe he’ll surprise me. He was a big enough deal to feel the need to write this. Maybe I’m being harsh. Maybe I really am being realistic. Only time will tell.

Sometimes the party gets the best of you

8 Jul

Well I almost completed epic week of posting. Then came the hangover from hell and I lost my rhythm. I’ll finish the Arizona part of the story this week, promise (?). I was going to do it last weekend, but then Friday night came, got way too hammered and wanted to die for the next few days.

Did you know that technically every time you throw up from drinking you have alcohol poisoning? So I wonder what it means when you throw up on the sidewalk the next day while trying to merely survive your dog walking job…more than once. Not classy. Nor is a two day hang over. Hopefully, knowing this was my weekend earns my forgiveness for not finishing my attempt at completing something.

I may also do a Half Baked video tonight. It is Sunday after all and I didn’t even have drunken baking last week either since I felt so shitty. I’ll have to look through my pantry.

While I’m typing lets do other updates, mine as well make this productive:

Rugged Maniac Training is still going, but much less intense. The initial hurrah has died off a bit, but I’m still motivated to get this done. I’ve been watching videos to prepare for the obstacles, a few of us at work started a running group a couple days a week, and I’ve been doing Jillian Michaels videos to work on muscle conditioning. I’ve been pretty lazy the last couple weeks, but I’m determined to regain my focus now that the 4th is done and there are no other excuses until late August not to be healthy and bang this shit out.

Boys…oh boys. Nothing, I got nothing. I’ve been dating pretty regularly which is nice, but nothing is sticking. I have no complaints, I just wish my coupley friends would stop looking at me like I’m some charity case. Especially now that SMC and the Seaman are engaged. She is my best friend from college and he is a good friend from high school who I used to sleep with. Never saw that relationship ending up here, but now that it is I feel like its work to be happy for them, and they just keep talking like I’m going to be their new project. Their intentions are good, but they don’t get how patronizing they sound.

What else? Oh, remember when I had that mini break down about my life? Did I write about that? Well, I am officially moving to Arizona, probably in November. I need to save and plan and well, find a job, but I’m excited about it. I haven’t told many people, mostly because I don’t want to deal with the negativity that will come along with the announcement (I know for a fact a few people won’t exactly be happy about it), but I have a few months. I figure I’ll live in the dessert for a bit and that will be a nice little adventure then maybe England, or some tropical island for a while. I went to see “Savages” and it made me want to be a beach bum, possibly with dreadlocks.

Alright, it was nice catching up, but I have a pile of laundry calling my name.

Alternate ending to When Harry Met Sally

1 Feb

I met him while I was falling in love with his best friend. I never really saw him because I couldn’t, it wasn’t allowed, off limit in more ways than one. It took me years. Its funny what you can find when you really look though. How much you can realize you have missed.

While I was dating Mr. Wrong, he was a member of the group. When Mr. Wrong lived with him, he was a drinking buddy. After Mr. Wrong broke my heart, he was a shoulder to cry on. Somewhere along the way he became my friend. Then he was a good friend. Then somehow, I woke up one day and realized he was my best friend. Despite the 200 miles, I was seeing him more than I had even seen Mr. Wrong when we were together.

It was a drunken night with SMC when I realized The One that Got Away may in fact be my soul mate. I sent him a text. A TEXT! (just say it, juvenile) and that’s how I told him I liked him. An agonizing 14 hours later, I was granted the gift of hope. Hope that maybe I was right. Hope that I now wish I had never had because that was the moment it all started a downhill spiral that is still making me woozy. I apologize if you were starting to look forward to the happy ending, but that’s the thing with love, sometimes it’s perfect agony.

After the text, hope set its barbs into my heart. I wondered why I had never seen it before, how perfect it could be. Who doesn’t want to fall in love with their best friend? Isn’t it a story we have all seen played out on the silver screen a million times? Tell me you don’t envy Molly Ringwald in Pretty in Pink when Ducky rescues her at prom. Or Julia in The Wedding Singer who finds the love of her life has snuck up on her when she’s engaged to another man. Hell, I can quote the entire ending monologue of Harry at New Years telling Sally he loves her. However, how often do romantic comedies ever play out in real life? Now that should have been my first question, but it wasn’t.

Nothing happened for four months. I mean nothing. I kept waiting for him to ask me out, or confess his undying affection, kiss me, something, anything. I thought if I was just patient, he would make his move and it would all be worth it. I knew him well enough to know he liked to take his time, and I was willing to wait, but by the time Halloween approached, the falling leaves had tarnished the summer glow I had been feeling.

I went to his place for Halloween weekend festivities. I met his ostentatious roommate I had heard so much about. My yearning heart was charmed into a bitter entanglement and in that moment I hurt TOGA, and not for the last time. I tried to make amends. Tried to convince him it was unintentional, it was the alcohol, I wasn’t thinking. When that wasn’t enough I let disappointment turn into anger. How dare he lead me on for months and then get upset that I made out with another man! He had made no claim on me, what right did he have to judge me like that? You can imagine that this attitude could only make things worse, I’m sure, and that is exactly what it did.

You should know a thing or two about me at this point. I am relationally inept. When Mr. Wrong broke my heart, something else inside me broke. I have yet to fully fix it. Its not my heart, that’s just fine. Its something worse. Something deeper. I can’t even put a name to it, but it makes commitment really menacing. What do girls do that are petrified of commitment? They run in the opposite direction, right into the arms of military boys, bad boys, inaccessible boys, boys that will never ask of them anything more than their first name and who will never meet their mother. Simplicity, however, does not satisfy entirely. It always leaves you wanting, yearning for just a little more. Just one more taste, one more touch, one more moment where you can pretend you aren’t completely terrified. When a man stands in front of me and offers the world, all the things every girl dreams of, stability, love, a future, I cower into myself and make brilliant excuses to convince him I’m not the girl for him. When he pushes, and keeps trying anyway; when there’s a chance he sees past that wall I’ve put up for the world, I push back and prove it. I lie to him, I hurt him, but mostly, I prove it to myself, because its when they don’t just walk away like all the rest I have to convince myself he’s not the guy for me. If he really had the ability to love me, he would fight, right? He could take it all, without tiring, with no encouragement on my part, of course…right?

I can exhaust the most valiant of heroes, only I’m doubting I want to anymore.

TOGA and I are still friends, best friends. My head has given up on him, but my heart can’t. Not yet. I look into those soulful brown eyes and my heart melt. I hang on every word because it comes from his pouty little mouth. Despite everything we have been through he is still there, still supportive, still the one I want to call when things turn out right or I’m just having a really bad day. We fight, we fight really well, but it never seems to keep us from moving forward. Maybe he’ll never trust me enough, maybe we’ll always stay stuck in this relational ditch, but at least we’re stuck in it together. I’ll always love him, even when we both find our rights, I just hope I find mine first. It sucks being in love with your best friend, especially when you realize life isn’t the movies, and sometimes fate has other plans for you, but you still can’t walk away. Its your best friend for crying out loud!