Is it weird that it bothers me that I will seemingly never be one of those suave chics who can slip out after sex without waking the other person up? I mean, you see it in movies all the time. The guy/chic wakes up the morning after to find themselves alone and questioning what time the other person bailed... Me? Not so much. Sure, I can get up and get dressed and grab my stuff all unnoticed. But doors? Doors seem to be an issue for me. The little chain thingies, they make a boatload of noise as I slide them over and out and then try so very quietly to lay them along the wall without them clanging. Then the door handle which seems to scream as I turn it and then the door itself sqqqquuuuueeeeeeaaaaakkkkkkks the entire time I open it and then won't shut properly without almost being slammed.
All of which is followed by a phone call a mere thirty seconds later from the dude still in the bed saying, "you ok?"
Once, just once, I'd like to get a call the next day saying, "When did you leave?"

Labels: Being a Chic, Being Retarded, I actually had sex

God I know better.
I totally know better than to get involved with someone who I work with.
I totally know better than to get involved with someone who is younger than me.
And I totally know better than to get involved with someone who puts down clauses about a lack of seriousness.
I even TOLD you at one point that I wouldn't get involved with someone who I worked with again unless it was serious. Unless there was a thread of serious intentions running through it. I mean, obviously one can't know for sure, but I wasn't intending to randomly sleep with a dude I worked with unless I was 'seeing where things were going' not as 'The Rebound Chic' and... well the part of the rebound chic will be played by Katehopeeden today...
I totally know better.
And yet, for reasons I am not completely sure of, I chose to ignore all of those things with you.
I believe it was because you were ridiculously nice. (And I am ridiculously stupid.)
Because you genuinely seemed to care. Because of those things I was able to "see past" all of my rules and knowing better.
Which worked out rather nicely for you, I suppose.
I, on the other hand, am feeling rather like an asshole.
Mostly because I believed you when you said that we were going to see where this was going, if anywhere. And I was totally cool with that. Partially because I wasn't in any hurry to jump into anything... Partially because I didn't know how I felt about you anyway and partially because we do work together. But mostly? Mostly because I thought you were being straight with me. And mostly because I believed you were being straight with me about that and about how we weren't going to see other people.
But I knew.
God I fucking knew.
I knew last week.
Want to know how I knew? Because I have dated - hell, I've been in relationships with people who were seeing other people. And because I have this vast freaking knowledge of exactly how it feels to be The Other Chic, I knew. At first, I thought I was being paranoid, even had conversations about how I was letting my past relationships overshadow my feelings. About how I was acting too much on jaded feelings and not just letting things flow.
Well fuck things flowing.
Exactly nine days ago you and I stood in your office and made plans with each other to get together two nights later. And two nights later you stood me up with the excuse that we didn't actually confirm those plans. Which made me feel like an asshole and really made you look like an asshole. But because this is new, because it is all supposed to be clean slate and because I am too nice for my own stupid good, I believed you when you said you didn't have your phone and even tried to see things for your perspective. But I knew that your reaction wasn't the one I was expecting and I'm pretty sure not the one I would have gotten a few weeks ago.
Deciding to let bygones be bygones, twenty four hours later, I let it go and acted like nothing had ever happened.
And it didn't matter because suddenly you started to act differently.
And I was all thinking that there was no way that was because of me. My reaction to you having blown me off could not possibly have warranted your change in temperature.
There was something else.
Ok, so at first, I did think it was me. That maybe I'd come on too strong, although I seriously doubted it. Maybe you'd realized that it was too much seeing someone with whom you worked, which was possible. I ran through the whole effing list of shit that I could have done and couldn't seem to find something that warranted it.
So after I spent like four hours in therapy reminding myself that there isn't anything wrong with me and I need to get out of the habit of blaming myself for everything going wrong, I took a look at you.
You suddenly stopped making eye contact which I took as a sign of guilt. You suddenly started asking the other chic who we work with to help you with stuff which I took as a sign of you avoiding me. And on the occasions in which I did help you with something, like today, it was so very awkward.
Now I noticed the reason why yesterday but didn't want to jump to conclusions, but then today it happened again and I am not An Idiot (nor do I play one on TV, even when I'm standing in as The Rebound Chic). Your cell phone rang and instead of you answering it, "Hello this is the boy" or "Hey Buddy!" you answered it with a quiet "hello" and then proceeded to talk to some chic quietly and with much flirting. And so, because I am not in the habit of being An Idiot (at least not on purpose), today I stood out in the lobby with three other people, all of whom could hear your conversation and pretended to be interested in what they were saying while I listened to you.
Listened to you flirt shamelessly.
And listened to the following conversation which pretty much solidified things for me:
"Do I smoke? Wait, did you say smoke? Oh "snore", I thought you said smoke. Well, sometimes if I'm out at a club I might have a couple of cigarettes... but as to the other? Well, you'll just have to wait and find out..."
You could practically hear the wink. You know, the one I actually saw not two weeks ago when you used that tone with me.
At which point I went back to my office because it was inherently clear to me that you've found some other chic that you are into and the thing is? That's fine. But god damn, you could have unhooked me before you re-baited. I've just been hanging here trying to figure out what's going on for days.
I'm a big girl and it's only been a couple of weeks, I'm fairly certain I could have recovered and even continue being friends after our "fling" but you, you are a chicken shit. You didn't even have the balls to tell me? It's just disrespectful. And now, I don't know if I can go back to being friends. Mostly because I am feeling like The Stupid Used Girl.

Dissapointedly,
The Rebound Girl
KHE

Labels: At work, Being a Chic, Being Retarded, Dating, fucking pissed, I actually had sex, I'm a loser, my crazy life, My pathetic excuse for a love life, self loathing

Four years and some odd months ago, I packed up everything I owned and moved my daughters and myself into this tiny white house next door to a diesel mechanic's shop.
I was terrified.
I was twenty three and although this would be the second time I had lived completely alone, I was literally starting completely over.
New job, new house, new life.
Everything in the house was white.. The outside, the inside... everything. It was very symbolic of my clean slate. I remember it being very bright when I first moved in. I didn't own much and the little I did own didn't take up much room.
It made me stand up a little straighter to be there, to have all of the control over my life again.
That house was my first "home" with my family and it is where we live the longest since having become a family.
There were so many firsts there.

Triniti said her first words in that house.
I realized that I could love and not be loved in return.
Amanda liked her first boy.
Emilee chopped off all of her hair.

And I hated that house. It was too small, had an insane amount of issues, didn't heat or cool particularly well, didn't have a dishwasher... It was like the house was telling me that she would take care of me, but she wasn't about to pamper me. I had to grow, I had to learn, I had to tough some things out.
And the thing is, Mr. I said to me once when I was bitching about it, "Kate, what would you have given two years ago to have this place? To be on your own and taking care of your girls? To not be trapped or not have options?"
And I would have given anything.

I lost my best friend.
Triniti colored her first picture.
Amanda stayed home alone for the first time.
Emilee played catcher.

When I was with AZ and scared shitless about where my life was heading, when I was with NY and wanted so badly to not have to be any more... I begged The Universe to save me, to help me, to give me any way out. And I think that The Universe did.
The Universe offered me this tiny house, no bigger than a vacation cottage, and she said to me Kate, start your life.
And I really did.
Over those years, I learned so much about the person I had been,the person I wanted to become and the person I truly was.
I learned that I am responsible.
I learned that I am capable.
I learned that I can be scared but I don't back down.
I learned that I can get the things I want by working for them.
I learned how to be a mother alone.
I learned that I choose my family.
I learned who and what is important to me.
I learned that my life is up to me.

I laid in bed some nights absolutely terrified about how I would survive, how I would not fail my daughters. I laid in bed other nights so very thankful that I was surviving and being the best mother I could be. I went from questioning my ability to do anything to knowing I could do everything. For myself. On my own.

I set goals for myself in every aspect and followed through with them on my own.
Triniti was diagnosed with Asperger's.
Amanda wore her first bra.
Emilee taught us about reincarnation and auras.

I look back at all of the years I spent being unhappy, all of the years where I was in situations where I so desperately wanted out but didn't know how to run and I thank my lucky stars that I had that little house. That when I needed most to start over, I could. And not just start over, but start entirely. I began my life there. I became myself there.

Saturday when I was there packing up the last of my stuff and cleaning that little house, I started to see the house as I had all those years ago when I moved into it. It reminds me of an old hard woman inviting me in, telling me I can stay but that she isn't going to help me, I'm on my own. I was scared of that old woman four years ago, I didn't believe in myself or my judgement. But now, as I am leaving her, she is a friend... I started to remember the first night I laid in my bed there and listened to the new noises of my life. I remembered the first time I had to paint the walls because Triniti colored all over them. I remembered actually having enough room to set up a Christmas tree because I had no furniture. I remembered Veronique and I laying on my bed reading books about boys and laughing at the idea of actually following the advice in them. I remembered assembling furniture on Christmas Eve. I remembered getting us our first doggy and how much we all loved her. I remembered buying my first brand new washer and dryer and my first car. I remembered being in love for the first time since being independent. And how much it hurt when it didn't work out. I remembered all of these things and I realized that I was going to miss that house that I shared so much with.

I bought a brand new mattress.
Triniti grew her first curls...
Amanda went to her first concert...
Emilee taught herself to ride a bike...

I feel like that little house was my cocoon.
When I moved there, I was just a grubby little caterpillar.
And while I certainly don't feel like a glorious butterfly right now, I certainly feel like I can fly.

Labels: Amanda, Asperger's, Being a Chic, Being Mommy, Chica, community, death, dreams, Emilee, I actually had sex, my crazy life, My pathetic excuse for a love life, The Universe, Triniti, Veronique

The next morning Kate went to work in a good mood despite her lack of sleep. She was a little nervous about how the boy would be acting but everything was normal. She didn’t mention to anyone that she had been at the boy’s house the night before though. Partially because she didn’t want to inadvertently scare the boy away and partially because she liked that it was a secret from all of the people around the both of them all day long.
She did call her very good friends and tell them all of the details.
They said that they thought he dug her.
She believed them but pushed that away from the forefront of her mind and just concentrated on the two of them being friends so as not to accidentally make an assumptions and do anything stupid.
Kate thought that this was a good plan.
That whole day, the boy acted just as he had in the previous days. He still came in and talked to her, still asked her for help when he needed it, still cracked jokes, all of the same things. The only thing she noticed was that he was definitely coming into her office more frequently. She allowed that piece of knowledge to creep into the part of her brain that daydreamed. But that was all. Other than the occasional daydream about the boy, she kept “friendship” in the forefront of her mind.
The absolute forefront.
The forefrontedest part.
But the next day, the boy started making it harder for Kate to stay on the friendship track. Mostly because when she was showing him something on the computer, he leant over to point at something and then told her that her hair smelled good.
This made her insides all giddy.
She tried very hard to keep pushing friendship into her mind. She told herself over and over, “Kate, he just wants to be friends, stop being a fool. Stop it now.” And speaking as your narrator, let me tell you: I think she was doing a pretty good job. In fact, I would go so far as to say that she was doing a phenomenal job. But what do I know? I’m just telling you a story.
But the good job that are darling Kate was doing was shot to shit later that afternoon when the boy came into her office and picked up a photo of her and said that her “freckles were cute”.
At that point, the good job stopped.
At that point, Kate couldn’t even find friendship in her mind, let alone keep it at the forefront.
And could you blame her?
I couldn't, that's for sure.
Later that afternoon the boy sent Kate a text message and told her that the two of them should go out and celebrate something that had happened that day for Kate. I would tell you what it was but remember, this is all anonymous. Kate made some arrangements and then agreed to meet the boy at his place again for another movie. And wine. Two bottles of wine.
The evening was going similarly to the previous visit except that the boy was paying far less attention to the movie that he had the last time. And when Kate mentioned that she wanted a pair of socks just like the ones that the girl was wearing in the movie, the boy got out his laptop and started looking for them on the internet.
About half way through the movie, because the boy was showing her stuff on the laptop, Kate ending up laying head on her arm on his lap. Something she considered to be borderline “friendly” but not too much that she would have to feel like an asshole should the boy only want to be friends after all.
When the movie ended, Kate wondered if the boy would make a move or if things would end the same way they had a few days before. Kate and the boy were sitting on the couch facing each other and talking about all sorts of things when the boy suddenly stopped and said to Kate, “How badly do you want to kiss me right now?”
Kate, having had a few glasses of wine admitted, “Pretty badly… why, how badly do you want to kiss me?”
The boy smiled and said, “Really bad.”
So Kate, feeling brave, said, “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll let you kiss me one time and if you are any good, then we can renegotiate another kiss. But if you are a bad kisser, then we’ll just pretend this whole thing never happened.”
No really, she actually said that.

So the boy leaned over and kissed Kate. And boy howdy did he kiss her. He kissed her socks off. And Kate had, on occasion, kissed a few boys. But this kiss? This kiss was amazing. The kiss made all of the other kisses Kate had had in her life bow their heads in shame.
So when the boy sat back and looked at her, I am pretty sure that she would have had one of those glazed over, dreamy looks on her face.
Kate grabbed the boy’s shirt and pulled him in for another kiss. And another kiss. And another kiss. And.. well you get the idea. This went on for a few minutes… or an hour, Kate really couldn’t keep track of time by then.
Then both of them stopped and talked.
They talked about what they were doing, what they were most likely going to do in a few minutes and what it all meant. And they decided that they weren’t sure what it all meant because it was too early to tell.
Some people might say that if it is too early to tell maybe they shouldn’t be considering doing what they were considering doing.
But those people probably aren’t reading this blog.
So they came to the conclusion that since they didn’t really know where “this” was going that they wanted to keep it under wraps. And then they shook on it. And then they went into the room with the bed. And made very good use of the room with the bed.
Oh so good use of the room with the bed.
Immediately afterwards, Kate had a minor, silent, and internal panic attack. You see, Kate had once had a relationship with a boy with whom she worked and this ended badly. And evidentially in ending badly, scarred Kate. She didn’t really realize how badly until exactly that moment when her brain started freaking out about how she had just become another secret. And how he probably wouldn’t want anything to do with her after tonight. And how she would have to walk around hanging her head because she had just been played. And then the boy sat down on the bed, brushed the hair back from her face and kissed her. And kissed her well.
With the panic attack subdued momentarily, Kate got up and dressed and then she and the boy sat down in the living room and talked some more. Kate told him she hadn’t intended to sleep with him that night which was a big fat lie and he called her on it. He laughingly pointed out that her head had practically been in his lap earlier in the evening in case she’d forgotten. And she said, “Yeah well, you told me my hair smelled good! And that my freckles were cute!” and he leaned forward and said, “your freckles are cute.” And kissed her again. Which shut her right up.
Shortly thereafter he would walk her to her car and kiss her once more.

Labels: History Lesson, I actually had sex, my crazy life, My pathetic excuse for a love life

Yeah, yeah, yeah... I'm weak, no will power, spineless and any other synonyms you can think of... So, for the record, I had no intention of doing anything more than playing a board game and having some adult company when I invited him over! I miss adult company sometimes and with Amanda and Emilee gone for the night and my little sister out with friends, it seemed like an ideal night for some company. Let's not forget that he is the one who didn't *bring* the game! LOL... Ok, excuses suck. So I slept with him again, sue me. The sex was awesome, usually is. He stayed the night and kissed me goodbye this morning. The good thing? I didn't read into it. I took it all for what it was like a good grown up and went to work happy and content with the way things panned out.

Work is still crazy, in fact I am still here at ten after five because my boss asked me to stay late on account of the absolute craziness. But my bonus is up to almost 500 bucks and that's the tip of the iceberg, I'm thinking 700 this month! Yippee!

Sitting at home, I can think of a million things to write, then I get here and I am drawing blanks :)

Anyway, I've got to go because I have work to do...

~Kate

Labels: At work, I actually had sex, My pathetic excuse for a love life