Catharsis

Someone recently told me that women will fall for just about anything and while my feminist sensibilities wanted to state otherwise, I'm starting to think he might be right. If nothing else I at least pride myself on being intelligent and sensible and yet I found myself in a completely icky, bad porn plotline, undefined relationship sort of thing with a man I'll call "Jack Cadillac." I wish I could say I was the one that (came to my senses and) ended it, but alas he found himself on a neverending search for happiness or some such bullshit and that happiness was not to be found with me. And yeah, it stung a bit.

I'm not clear on the protocol when one ends a non-relationship relationship, but I'm pretty sure it isn't turning around and walking the other direction which is exactly what I did when I saw my buddy Jack today with the cause for his (current) happiness. Unfortunately it was more "Oh God, I've been out walking my dog and I look like shit," than "I think you're a fucking asshole, sleaze and I don't want to look at you." Anyway, what I'm getting at is this - I know I'm about a year late, but God, (some) women really will fall for anything. "Do you think I'm intelligent?" she asked him. "Hum, yeah, but that wasn't the quality I was thinking of," he said. Brilliant.

Update: I wrote this when I was spinstered and anonymous. Something happened recently that made me give pause to think about this again. I've learned a lot in the past year and when I thought about this post I thought I'd return to find it full of bitterness and contempt. But when I reread what I'd written, I didn't find any of that. It's kind of like finding a journal you started at 13 and finding it years later. It's a little embarrassing, but ultimately a good glimpse into yourself and a marker for how far you've come. I returned to this post intent on deleting it, but I think, I'll let it ride. Certainly preferable to being taken for a ride, anyway. But when I think it all started because he liked my shoes...man...my friend was right.

My Day Off

When I was unemployed my days/daze consisted primarily of daytime television, alcohol and refined carbs almost always consumed while still in my pajamas; a sad existence no doubt. But, my lowest point came when (at my dad's urging) I actually considered returning to school to become an accountant. At last I would be able to sit around the dinner table discussing the GAAP (Generally Accepted Accounting Principles for those of you not in the know) or the latest issue of Journals of Accountancy with the 'rents and my sister; finally, I would start balancing my checkbook. Maybe someday my dad and I could even vote Republican together. Birds would sing; trees would dance. I've always kind of prided myself on being the anomaly in my family, but for that brief moment sitting in my pajamas at 2 p.m. watching Passions I thought "Maybe I could be an Accountant," and then I cried. Yesterday, as I broke open a bottle of cab (fully dressed, thank you), I thought "I could have been an Accountant," and I laughed.Maybe it was just the wine.

Serious Spinsters

So it would appear that spinsters take their roles quite seriously. I received two e-mails this morning from "real" spinsters (i.e. unmarried women over the age of 45). One of whom expressed concern that I was throwing in the towel a bit too early; the other wanted me to know that just because she was older and unmarried didn't mean she was unhappy. Duly noted, ladies. In my feeble attempt at irony, I neglected to think about the real spinsters out there. While I'm suprised (and a little frightened) that they were able to find me so quickly I appreciate the fact they identify themselves as such and own it with pride. I'm 28 and while I realize by Appalachian standards that puts me on the Old Maid card, I'm certainly not giving up on the prospect of anything, I'm just not consuming myself with it. Not to mention I know not a damn thing about love. And, for the record, (and in spite of my English major tendencies) I have just one cat and that's how I plan to keep it. No offense to the rest of you spinsters with cats.

Can't ignore a youth pastor like a normal human being

I woke up this morning to find myself with a farmer's tan, a pounding headache and the need to apologize to several people. If I spoke to you after 3 p.m. Saturday, I'm sorry for whatever words spewed forth from my mouth. 95 degree weather, my natural inclination toward bitchiness and my general loathing of humanity don't bode well for community relations. Unless of course I ran into you and spoke good things in which case I meant every word.

Despite my best efforts to the contrary, I was suckered into a fix-up by a woman at work. She knew the "perfect" guy, too. I'm always worried when someone who doesn't know me well (or at all) thinks they're able to pinpoint my interests. For reasons I am unable to determine, I said "Yes."

I suggested we meet for drinks at a bar close to my work. Being a non-drinker he wasn't comfortable with that and finally made a suggestion of his own. So, I met him at the restaurant where, incidentally, we were seated in the bar area. Within minutes I learned that he was thirty, lived with his parents, was divorced AND was studying to be a youth minister. Richard wanted to become "Pastor Ricky." I quickly ordered a vodka tonic and could tell from the look on his face that he wasn't happy. So, I downed that one and ordered another. As a rule I try not to offend on the first date, but when there's no chance of having a second what does it matter?

Conversation was minimal and when the check came he actually glared at it and then sighed. Being ever a gentleman he walked me to my care whereupon he decided it was appropriate to try and kiss me. I moved my head just in time and was able to say so eloquently, "Um, yeah. No." He appeared unphased and left for his car.

When I got into work the next day co-worker X told me he had e-mailed to tell her he had a good time. Maybe on Planet Youth Pastor a good time is bad converation and an equally bad meal? When they met again at church a day later (Wednesday night, of course) he told her he was not happy having to pay for my drinking "habit."

When I woke this morning with my farmer's tan and headache, I also found that I had a voice message waiting for me. "This is Richard," the voice said. "You know from last Monday? Anyway, I just thought you might want to join us at church this morning." I don't think a dating hiatus is necessary, but I certainly plan to be a bit more explicit with what I'm looking for and "Pastor Ricky" ain't it. Besides, he doesn't want to date me; he just wants to save my soul.

I'm a spinner

Definitions of spinster on the Web:

• an elderly unmarried woman
• spinner: someone who spins (who twists fibers into threads)
• A spinster (or old maid) is a woman who has never been married, though it is usually applied only to women who are regarded as being beyond the normal age for marriage. There used to be quite a stigma related to being a spinster, but this onus has largely disappeared in modern Western Civilization. The term is also of legal use in some places; in the United Kingdom, for instance, any woman never previously married will be categorised as a "spinster" on a marriage license, regardless of her age.
• An unmarried adult female (as opposed to a widow). Commonly seen in public records to identify a single woman of age.