No Win Situation

I sometimes think us women ought to cut men some slack. I heard myself complaining to Kay this morning that my date last night was all over me - which I quite enjoyed in the moment - but that he must not have too much respect for me if he was so aggressive. Juxtapose that with my recent complaint about J being too sweet and not sexy enough. Sigh. I suppose it really is a challenge for men to understand what women want when we hardly seem to know ourselves.

A League of Their Own

Is it just me or does everyone categorize attractive members of the opposite sex as "attainable" and "unattainable"? It's almost like what one would do with movie stars: Wentworth Miller? Totally hot but to actually be the one dating him? Inconceivable.

I think I have relatively good self-esteem but is it really so if I still consider some guys "out of my league"? What exactly does this imply and how often is it actually true? Do even the most brilliant, successful, gorgeous people feel they aren't good enough sometimes?

To my surprise, I was twice mistaken in the last week when two such "unattainable" men expressed an interest in me first. In fact, my date with one of them went quite well last night and the other I'm supposed to see on Sunday. It makes me wonder how many other Major Leagers could have been mine if only I'd been confident enough to make my own interest known.

A friend advised me to begin correcting this problem by going after what I really want - not just the ones I think I can get but especially the ones I think I can't. If what happened this week is any indication a whole other caliber of potential partners could be on the horizon...

The Conquest

Over the weekend I heard from and had an unexpected date with J, the primary source of my sexual frustration at the beginning of this year and whom I hadn't seen since I gave up on him in mid-February. I finally know what it feels like for a guy to be with a girl who just won't put out. I'd call him a cock tease except that I don't have one and I really don't think he's doing it on purpose. He's just not much of a ladies man despite being 29 years old and quite cute.

Our date a few nights ago was thankfully not as G-rated as our previous get-togethers but it certainly did not go the way I would've intended. On my "walk of shame" home the next morning (the only shame being that not enough happened) I came to the realization that when it comes to J, I'm really only after one thing and I'm not afraid to admit it. It has become the pink elephant in the room. The only reason I'd continued to see him was because I was hoping for a repeat performance (and more) of our first date but if I were to somehow know that things would never physically progress between us I'd forget about him completely. I'm finally thinking like a man, at least where he's concerned.

The frustrating thing is that the chemistry is excellent when he just relaxes a little but, as I've come to expect, he'll abruptly turn the stove off just as things are starting to heat up and frankly I'm tired of it. Chemistry or no chemistry being a sissy definitely takes away from your sex appeal.

I'm not sure when or if I'll see him again and whether I should tell him about how I feel. I can foresee such a direct, mature conversation making him very uneasy. I may find some way of bringing it up but I have a feeling he just won't get it, which is why he's in this mess in the first place. The poor boy is clueless.

The Golden Child

I remember a time, not too long ago, when the very idea of having a conversation with my parents which did not involve screaming, crying or simply enraged silence seemed proposterous. I haven't managed to purge myself of all my residual pain (at least not without therapy and/or the ingestion of massive quantities of illegal substances) but when I compare the relationship that I currently have with my parents to that of a decade ago I'm pretty amazed by how far we've come. Our relationship is far from perfect but I realized that I've judged my parents very harshly and should appreciate them, both for what they have and haven't done.

Considering that they are immigrants, about 15 years older than most of my friends' parents, and unfashionably old-fashioned, they haven't let this affect my life as much as I expected. They were very strict while I was growing up and I thought they'd continue to exert their iron will well into my adulthood but they haven't. My parents' social life is busier than my own so they're usually more preoccupied with their own lives and stay quite respectfully out of mine. They rarely pop in without warning, never ask personal questions, and if they're at all concerned about my biological clock they don't show it. In fact, I've felt pressure from everyone but my parents to settle/settle down. I knew how much they disapproved of my relationship with Mac but they never nagged me about it and never tried to break us up. Maybe that's why I voluntarily came crying to them when I decided I'd had enough and even then they never said "I told you so."

Since I was 18 my parents have let me make my own decisions and mistakes. They'd tell me what they thought but never made me feel guilty about doing it my way. I know I can go to them for help for whatever I need and that they'll support me no matter what, even if they disagree. Unlike some of my friends who complain that their parents are never satisfied I know mine have always been proud of me. Their youngest. Their Golden Child.

A friend told me recently that her parents (who are friends with mine) told her to tell me that I should visit my folks more often as their health is failing. It's true that despite an active social life both my parents have suffered mini-strokes. First my mother, who's mobility has since decreased by 80%, and then my father. While I do live only a few minutes away from them I really don't visit them that often. Our relationship may have improved but my familial home has deteriorated. I just don't feel comfortable there and my flight instinct kicks into high gear every time I'm there so that I never stay for more than an hour. But my friend's parents' comment was a wake-up call for me and I felt a little ashamed. I should spend more time with them while I still can and shouldn't need an outsider to tell me so.

I'm taking my parents to dinner tonight to a restaurant of their choice. If I don't see them at home I can at least take them out. I've also bought them each a small gift, and I've committed to dining with them once a month or so. This may seem like a normal thing to do for some but not so much for an immigrant family like mine. My older sister and brothers have certainly never done this themselves. But it's a tradition that I'd like to start. I want to show my parents how grateful I am for everything, even if I can't find the words to say it.

Miss Peacock. In the Study. With the Wrench.

I have my own unsolved mystery at the moment and the clues all seem to point in the one direction I don't want them to but it's hard to deny or make excuses when the answer seems so obvious.

A friend has been staying off and on with me for the last few weeks since she and her boyfriend broke up. She stayed at my place the week I was away in the Dominican Republic and with me for most of my first week back in town. I comforted her for several days while she sobbed over the breakup. I encouraged her to pick herself up and look for an apartment and then visited apartments with her until she found one. It was a bit of an adjustment living with someone in such close quarters when I'd grown accustomed to being on my own with everything just so, plus the fact that I'd only just returned from an action-packed 8-day holiday with friends, but I wanted to help and genuinely enjoyed her company. That is, until my stuff started disappearing.

It started out innocently enough. She drank my booze without asking and without replacing it. Then three of my tops mysteriously disappeared. They were in a pile on my dresser and now I haven't seen them in over a week. I looked everywhere and am quite organized so it's impossible that I missed them. I commented on how odd it was and she asked me with wide eyes whether I thought she took them and I said no, of course not, because I hadn't for a moment thought that she'd do that. Then I noticed she'd helped herself to a couple of condoms from my bathroom drawer. Not a big deal but again I would've appreciated her mentionning it. Finally this morning I realized that she'd taken one of four tubes of moisturizer I kept underneath the sink, and not the one that she'd been secretly using anyway but a brand new one so that I now have two full bottles, a third one that's half-empty, and one that's missing. The idea of her having taken my tops sucks but suddenly isn't so improbable anymore...

More than anything I'm hurt and feel somewhat used. Until recently she was still popping in throughout the day to take showers, do loads of laundry, and use the computer. Her stuff is all over my place. None of this really bothered me until she started taking things without asking. I'm upset that she's put me in such an uncomfortable position, having to confront her about what seem like such petty things but it's not OK to take advantage of someone when they've been kind to you, which I think I have been. She doesn't move into her new place for another three weeks but clearly I'm not too keen on hosting her anymore.

I asked her over the phone this morning whether she'd taken the moisturizer and she said maybe she'd used it and had taken it by mistake. (Mind you, she didn't use/take the same one I was using and kept in the cupboard but a brand new one from beneath the sink.) Then I added that she probably didn't have them but that I'd appreciate it if she could double check her bags to make sure she doesn't have my tops. I'll also have to ask her for my keys back. I know she let herself into my place last night while I was out, which I'd once told her was OK, but I feel differently now. Now I've been betrayed. Blindsided by Miss Peacock herself.