(not so) Extreme Makeover - home edition

OK, I'm pissed at Maurizio for outing me on the World-Wide-Web, but I'll get over it. I can't stay mad at him, but I'm moderating my comments now - sorry for the inconvenience (to my remaining 2 readers).

On Sunday he came over to my humble abode to do a makeover on my room (continuation of the big post break-up makeover). It's pretty amazing, given what he had to work with. Especially considering that I live in a rental house and we can't paint or wall-paper anything.

It started with a new bed. Maurizio wanted to go with the Somma bed - probably due to the phallic nature of it's installation, but I just couldn't - I would be thinking of Lynn every night. We went with an ordinary queen sized bed. The headboard is a cheap but passable imitation of Italian lacquer with a mirror on it - tasteful, not tacky. Maurizio originally suggested an animal skin print for the bed spread (I'm pretty sure he wasn't serious). We got a blue patterned print. I got matching black lacquered nightstands, and put oriental lamps on them.

What's really impressive is the treatment of the walls. We went to Home Depot and got 1/4" sheets of plywood. We had them cut into 2 foot strips. Maurizio put a thin layer of foam on these and, well, I guess "upholstered" is the best description, them with a heavy blue/gray patterned material. He nailed these to the walls (oh, well, there goes the security deposit). Although it sounds really weird, the effect is quite striking. We did this to 2 of the walls. Now I live in a padded room. Given my state of mind, this is quite appropriate.

He got me a small tree and put an accent light on it, and two posters that are Renior reproductions of semi-nude women, almost art deco-style prints - kind of reminiscent of Nagel - in tones that matched the room.

The place looks great. Now all I need is someone to bring home to it.

Crustaceans

I went to a dinner party at my new friend Kristen's house on Saturday night. Kristen has a nice house in San Jose. It is an older ranch home on a large lot close to the center of town. The place is impeccably furnished and very stylish – well, what else would one expect?

Kristen came to the door and let me in. I handed her the two bottles of a Pinot Grigio that I had brought. A wonderful crisp but slightly fruity wine that I thought would pair well with the Lobster. “Wow” she exclaimed. “You certainly cleaned up well. This is a whole new look for you.”

“Thanks.” I said. I realized that she had not seen me since the makeover.

“Who did your make-over?” She asked. Do I really look that different?

I blushed a bit. “Well, I was reading a copy of GQ this afternoon…”

“Aahh, an engineer that reads GQ, I don’t believe it” she interrupted.

“OK, you caught me. The wardrobe is by Maurizio and the hair by Ricardo of San Francisco.”

“Who are they? Never mind. You look great. I’m impressed that you even know what GQ is.” That’s twice I impressed her. Hmmm. I’m hoping that it’s not that she’s easily impressed.

She introduced me to Paul, her significant other, as her lover. I don’t believe that anyone has ever been introduced to me as a lover before. Then I was introduced to the partners of the other folks.

We started with cocktails, well, flutes of champagne in the living room. She had a fire going in the fireplace.

“So what do you do for fun, Rich?” Kristen asked.

“I’ve been doing a lot of kayaking lately.”

“Yeah, where do you go?” Paul asked, perking up.

“Usually out on the bay during the week. Santa Cruz or Aptos on the weekends.”

“You have a boat, wetsuit and everything?”

“I have a dry-top and wetsuit pants. And yes I have boat – a Necky Sea Kayak.”

“Who do you go out with?”

“Lately, by myself.”

“Isn’t that dangerous. Shouldn’t you have a buddy?”

“Yeah, I should. I’ve been going before work and I don’t know anyone who gets up that early. I try to go just before high tide, that way I get washed up on the beach if I get tired. I keep all the appropriate safety and signaling gear that I need. I keep the cell phone in a dry bag attached to the PFD. There’s pretty good coverage over the whole bay.”

“Paul is going on a kayaking trip this summer on the west coast of Vancouver Island.” Kristen added.

“Oh, wow. I’d love to do that.”

“It’s this organized tour. We’ll be paddling through Calyoquot Sound” Paul said.

“What kind of boat do you have?” I asked.

“Oh, I don’t have one, yet.”

“You’ll need to get in shape for an expedition like that.”

“Yeah. I’m going up to Seattle on Monday – spring break - to do some training in Puget Sound with the outfitter that I’m going with.”

“You get spring break?”

It turns out that Paul is an art teacher, part time, at a community college. Nice work if you can get it. The pays probably not that great, but he seems to have solved that problem, too.

Paul showed me his garden out back. He grows herbs, tomatoes, and other vegetables. Just the hardy herbs are in now, and he used some for the dinner. I keep the same kind of garden at my house – but mostly in pots, since I can’t dig up the yard in the rental house. I grow the things that are hard to find at the grocery stores – like good tomatoes, and fresh basil.

Paul and I agreed to go paddling together on the weekends. We can rent him a boat and accessories in Santa Cruz.

Dinner was an exquisite affair. Kristen not only did a great job with the food, but the presentation was stunning as well. Every course came on a different set of plates, each specifically paired to match the food in terms of shape, color, and contrast. The lighting in the dining room was perfect – a dimly lit room with spotlights on the place settings. This was right out of architectural digest. Despite having 2 nerd couples and myself, Kristen kept the conversation lively and engaging all night.

For the main course, we went to the kitchen and picked out our lobsters – which had been freed from their Styrofoam travel crates and were crawling around on the counters amid bits of seaweed fresh from Boston. We dispatched them in one of two huge pots of boiling water on the stove. The lobster was amongst the best that I have had, and the sauces were wonderful.

Unlike one of Greg’s parties, there were no waiters or caterers to help – it was just Kristen and her lover, who was quite supportive and very attentive – but somehow subservient.

I’m quite sure that he makes her happy.

Queer Eye for the Computer Guy

“You need a makeover” Maurizio said.

“A makeover?” I asked.

“Yes! Some new clothes, a haircut, a facial, a manicure. Improve the outer man. This is going to make you feel great. Let’s go shopping.”

“OK, but I draw the line at getting anything waxed.”

“No way. We’re going to get you a full Brazilian.” I thought that was for girls,. What do I know?

“Really, Maurizio, retail therapy is not my thing.”

“Come on. You need new clothes. You definitely need a new haircut – that mop probably worked when you were in high school in the early 90’s but this is the new millennium.”

With that, my lunch date with Maurizio turned into a day of hooky and shopping. I called Wayne (new boss man) and let him know I would be out for the day. I finished the project he gave me – and I think he was impressed with how fast I got it done. I haven’t been sleeping, so I’ve been able to put the late night hours in without any problem. If I don’t work I just think of Lynn, which is bad. Anyway, Wayne was cool with me being out.

Maurizio and I went up to San Francisco and went to more trendy shops than I knew existed. I blew several thousand dollars on clothes. Maurizio has pretty good taste and lot of it looked really good on me, if I don’t say so myself. There were several pieces that are in for alterations, but I did get clothes for Saturday night )dinner party at Kristen's)

We went to a hair salon and Maurizio introduced me to “Ricardo”. Who was totally flaming. What did you expect? This is a hairdresser in San Francisco. “He’s not really ‘Ricardo”, is he?” I asked Maurizio.

“No he’s Richard.”

“But I make a hell of a lot more in tips if I am flaming ‘Ricardo’” said Ricardo dropping the gay act for a moment. I was left wondering which persona was real.

“So what are we doing today?” He asked.

“The full heartbreak.” Maurizio said. I guess I’m not the first.

“Oh, nooo” said Ricardo, rubbing my shoulder sympathetically. “What happened?”

“Disaster. He was left for another man” Maurizio said darkly. Ricardo nodded knowingly. He called over an assistant who set to work giving me a manicure. Rosemary scented hot towels were produced. I was shaved and exfoliated and given several other treatments – which actually were quite nice. I had to admit, this was a lot more soothing than I was expecting. As Ricardo was working on my face, he said “You’re not getting enough sleep. These bags under your eyes. You need to take care of yourself or you are going to look old before your time. And the texture here – been hitting the sauce pretty hard, have we?”

“Uh, yeah – it’s been a tough couple of weeks.”

“Well it’s his loss.” I didn’t bother to correct him – on either count. “Him” was a “her” and in the grand scheme of things - I don’t think she lost – I did. “We are going to make you look just fabulous” Ricardo said, practically licking his lips. He proceeded to work on my face.

“Now, what are we going to do with the hair?” Ricardo asked. “Is this your natural color?”

“Uh, yeah”

“It’s sooo beautiful. Like honey. Just gorgeous red highlights.”

I actually hate that. I am a strawberry blond – but if I stay out in the sun enough it gets naturally bleached out. I have been indoors too much lately.

“I think we need something close cropped” said Maurizio “I’m thinking Matt Damon in the Bourne Identity.”

“No.” Ricardo disagreed. “I can’t take that much off of him. With hair like this it would be a crime. I’ll make it work,”

Ricardo set to work, and took more hair off then he left. He preened and stroked my hair and massaged my scalp. He started asking me personal questions. OK now I know which persona is real. Maurizio stopped him. “He got dumped by his girlfriend”.

At this, Ricardo recoiled. “No. What a waste.” But he continued to massage my scalp.

Once he was done cutting, he added highlights – and he did a good job. It looked like it used to in the summers in Hawaii, very natural. I’ve never had my hair dyed before. I’ve never had a manicure before.

Leaving the salon, I caught myself in the mirror and I did look good. Maurizio was right. This did make me feel good.

Maurizio and I went back to my house. He decided to make-over my bedroom as well. “What a disaster. You still have boxes. Nothing says ‘I’m not ready for a long term relationship’ than boxes already packed – or not unpacked. These have to go. You have a twin bad!” He yelled at me. “How can you ever bring a girl in here? We are ordering you a waterbed first thing tomorrow. And a computer on the floor? What is the bedroom for? Sex. Move that thing into the den or something. I am going to get you some art for these walls. Hmmm, maybe Nagel. That would work in here. And a plant. Nothing says ‘sensitive guy of the new millennium’ like a live plant.”

“No ferns” I protested. Was that wrong?

“OK, but, you need something.” He said rolling his eyes. “The only other thing you need to do is sell that truck. Don’t get me started on that. Why did you buy it?”

Maurizio is coming over on Sunday and we are going to clean up the bedroom.

Bad Idea

So on Friday night I took Lynn out for dinner at McCormick and Kuleto’s in San Francisco. I know, profoundly bad idea. But we set up this date - vernal equinox - before the ugliness and she said she still wanted to see me. What can I say? I'm weak. We have (or had) one more date scheduled - well, more than a date - it is our trip to the British Virgin Islands. She's decided that it probably wouldn't be much fun, so I get to cancel all those plans.

Anyway M&K's is in a kind of in a touristy area. It's not my first choice in restaurants when visiting the city, but Lynn really likes the food there – the view is not bad if the fog isn’t in (which it wasn’t).

I ducked out of work early – at about 5:30 and went to Lynn’s apartment in Los Gatos. She was in the parking lot, washing her car. I came up behind her and called out, “That’s boyfriend work! You shouldn’t be doing that.”

She picked up the hose and playfully threatened to squirt me.

“Hey, hey” I protested.

“We are going to be out all weekend.” She said, referring to her plans with her new boyfriend, Tim. OK, that I didn’t need to know. And so what? He should still wash it – if he was any kind of a gentleman. I washed her car when I was her boyfriend.

I helped her finish drying the car and pick up her rags and we went back to her apartment. “I need to shower. Sorry I’m running late. Can you call the restaurant and get a later reservation?”

“Sure, no problem.” We went inside. The thing that really hit me was the smell of the apartment. Smells can trigger memories, especially emotion laden ones. It brought back a flood of memories and feelings. It left a hole in the pit of my stomach. This was going to hurt a lot more than I thought. It was hard to believe that we were together here for less than a week.

There were a lot more artifacts of Tim around the apartment. Some of his clothes, motorcycle gear, some books. Lynn went into the bedroom and got her dress. Then she went into the bathroom and closed the door and pushed it hard to make sure it was closed tight. “You can get yourself a glass of wine if you like.” She called through the door. I went to the kitchen and checked the wine rack and found it filled with a lower grade of wine than I had left – most in the $5 to $10 range, and not even good selections for the money. Well, at least she’s drinking crappy wine with him. I sat on the love seat in the living room and clicked on the TV and tried not to think about her in the shower as I heard the water running.

She came out of the bathroom fully dressed and went into the bedroom to put on makeup. After about 15 minutes she was ready to go. We took her car newly cleaned car. I drove.

“So how do you celebrate the equinox? Do you give presents?” She asked. Friday was the vernal equinox - and the pretense for our date.

“Um, uh, usually I just have a nice dinner.”

“You don’t really celebrate the equinox, do you?”

“No.” Although I do note the arrival of the new season, it’s not really something that I would call celebrating in the classic holiday sense.

“Then why did you tell me that?”

“I would have said or done anything to have another day with you.” She didn’t say anything. So I said it for her. “Sounds desperate and needy, huh?”

“Rich, you’re sweet. And I do love you. And you can spend time with me whenever you want. You don’t need to make up excuses.”

“Thanks.” That made me feel a little bit better. But I knew that I had set back my recovery from clinical depression by at least a month.

Dinner was weird, I was there, but somehow not there. It felt like I was watching someone else go out with Lynn. She talked about her new job and the folks she is working with. I filled her in on the folks I was now working with and funny anecdotes about them. I probably mentioned Kristen more than I should have. And, then again, I don’t know why I’m worried about that.

“I’m going away the weekend after next.” I said.

“Where?”

“Up to Mendocino. There is a hotel there overlooking the harbor. I found it on my last trip up there. It’s beautiful – good for the soul.”

“It sounds nice.”

“You want to come?”

“No, Rich.”

The conversation dragged – we were not talking about the obvious. Finally, she said “Rich, we really shouldn’t see each other for a while.”

I was obviously crushed – but I know this is the right thing. “Why? Because you and I sit around drinking and complaining about our lovers, and you don’t want to hear me bitch and complain about you?” I stated the obvious, I thought.

“No, Rich, I don’t care if you bitch about me - really, I kinda deserve it. But that’s not the point. You need to get over me. The best way to do that is to not see me for a while. This is the best thing for you. I'd give you the same advice about any woman.”

“Well, I guess I’ll give you a call after I get crushed by another girl.”

“Woman.” She corrected me. “And Rich, some advice from a friend. Don’t get involved with Kristen.”

“I don’t think that will be a problem. She’s pretty happy with her current relationship – which has been going on now for quite a few years.”

“Rich, you have a crush on her.”

“Is it obvious?” Maybe, a little, maybe.

“I can read you like a book.” She smiled at me.

I picked at my dinner, eating about half of it – which is par for the course lately. Lynn enjoyed her dinner and had desert, which I poked at with my spoon since she asked me to help her eat it.

We were driving home on 101 out of San Francisco. It was about 11:00 but there was stop and go traffic - probably an accident. “Let’s have sex.” I said suddenly.

“Now?” she asked.

“Well, when we get to your place.”

She laughed. “No, Rich, I don’t think it would work.”

“Only if Tim has broken something on you. Because I still work just fine.”

She laughed again and put her hand on my shoulder in an affectionate gesture. “No, everything is working fine. I…”

“Good.” I interrupted her, “because I would never forgive Tim if he broke you like that.”

“Rich, we need to spend some time apart. You’ll get over me.”

“You know, you ruined my life. You got me fired, you cost me my best friend, my drinking buddy and my best girl.”

“Woman.’ She corrected me again. “Yeah, I did. But you have a new job – and you’re not working for Dave anymore. Probably a way better job. And you’ll find a new woman. You'll find a new drinking buddy.”

“Let’s have sex. It will be just sex – nothing more.”

“No.”

“Why not? You've been with Tim for about 3 weeks now. Let me do to Tim what he did to me. Let’s see how he handles it.”

“Rich.”

“Don’t you think he’s willing to share you? You can’t have just one guy, right?”

“No, it’s just Tim for now.”

Oh god. I did not need to hear that. OK, now my depression will last at least a year. I really thought that I would be physically sick. I didn’t think that I could have felt worse than on that Saturday morning when I walked out of her apartment for the last time. I was wrong. “So you couldn’t be with just me, but you can be with just Tim?”

“Rich, it’s different with Tim. We started differently. I can’t explain it.”

“Don’t even try.” I said bitterly. I really though about ramming her car into the median or the car in front of us. I though about just getting out of the car and just walking away. Dinner with Lynn had been such a bad idea.

“Rich, don’t be like that…” She pleaded, her hand was still on my shoulder.

We drove in silence for a while – inching forward with the slow flow of traffic.

“Marry me.” She said.

“What?” I was shocked, but what else is new.

“Marry me.”

I looked at her. She was so beautiful. She was wearing a flowing red dress, her silky black hair spilling over her shoulders. I looked into her beautiful eyes. A tear in the corner of one. She was never more beautiful than she was right now.

“Watch the road!” she yelled.

I slammed on the brakes and just barely managed to avoid rear ending the BMW in front of us. I had more adrenaline in my system than anyone should. I was shaking. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” she said. I glanced over at her again, quickly this time. “Marry me or I will keep sleeping with Tim.”

I sat stupidly for a minute. This needed to sink in. “Marry me or I will keep sleeping with someone else” was not exactly the proposal that every man dreams of. A horn brought me back to reality. The traffic had moved on. “When?” I asked driving on.

“Now. Today. Let’s drive up to Reno and do it.”

I sat stupidly for another minute. “But..” I couldn’t think of anything to say. It was like my brain had turned to oatmeal. This was some kind of emotional overload. I was still shaking – a normal reaction when a man is faced with marriage.

“I’ve just been through a horrible break up. I think you can relate. I could take the attitude that ‘all men are scum’ and have nothing to do with them for a year or so. Or I can fuck everything with pants. I figured why should I deprive myself of some good sex? But getting married would work, too. It’s just crazy enough. Marry me.”

“But..” again I couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Can you say anything but ‘but’?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll marry you. Let’s go. Now.”

“Rich, you don’t want to get married.” She waited. In hindsight, she was waiting for me to disagree. The fact is I don’t want to get married. It’s just not something that guys really want to do. But if I were to marry, she would be the one. I want her to be the one. But she’s hurt me so bad – she can’t be the one. “Rich, I’m not going to give up my life just to play house with you. This is the problem, Rich. You don’t want me forever, you just want a girlfriend.” She put emphasis on the word “girl”. “You didn’t move in with me, you didn’t ask me to move in with you. You hardly reacted when I slept with someone else. I’m just a toy to you. You want me forever, I’m yours. But if not, let me go.”

Hardly reacted? What did she need? For me to hit her? For me to scream like a maniac? She couldn’t tell I loved her? What we had was meaningless?

“I’ll marry you.” I said weakly. Too weakly.

“Be serious, Rich.”

“No, let’s go now. I’ll marry you.” I said more positively. In hindsight, and after some time to reflect on it, I should have just turned the car around and drove to Reno. I was in the driver’s seat - literally. I was about to lose her again, because I would do what she told me – because I listened to her. You’d think I would learn. As I write this I realize that I am the stupidest man in the world. Just because I am commitment phobic I lost the girl. Now I can’t blame Tim, and I can't blame her. This is all my fault. Of course, getting married to a girl, excuse me, woman that says “marry me or I’ll sleep with someone else” cannot be that start of blissful matrimony. Oh, hell, I am just justifying it to myself. Why can’t I think faster? Why did my brain turn to oatmeal?

“No, Rich.” She said. “Take me home.” I saw a tear roll down her cheek.

Cheese Doodles

“So you are the one that put brie on the shopping list. I’m impressed. Most engineers are satisfied with cheese doodles”

It was Kristen, the VP of marketing at my new place of employment – or as it says on her business card, Marketing Goddess. She also used to work with the CEO at his last company and also made a lot of money. She drives a fairly new Mercedes SL convertible. She is very flamboyant – I guess as any good marketeer should be. She is a strikingly beautiful woman. Not cute and girlish, not even soft or feminine – but very beautiful. She is almost as tall as I am – maybe 5’ 9” or 5’ 10” in flats (I’m 6' 1”)

Anyway, she came into the makeshift kitchen – a corner of the leased office space with a refrigerator, sink and counter, and a file cabinet doing double duty as a pantry. She caught me eating a big slab of brie on a chunk of crusty French bread.

“I’m impressed they bought it” I replied to Kristen “and imported French brie at that. Most companies are satisfied with offering cheese whiz.”

She laughed at me. “We have that, too.” She opened with door to the pantry and pulled out an aerosol can containing an unnaturally bright orange cheese flavored product.

She pulled off a hunk of bread and put some brie on it. She pulled up a chair at the table and joined me for lunch. We chatted amiably about nothing much at all. After a while Pete came into the lunch room and went straight for the pantry. He pulled out a box of crackers and the cheese whiz. He assembled a cracker and cheese whiz sandwich and popped it in his mouth. Then after a couple of chews, he tilted his head back and sprayed on an extra dose of the orange goo. Kristen and I looked at each other and giggled. Pete seemed to sense he was being made fun of – and stalked off with his lunch, giving us a “what’s so funny” look.

“So Rich, I’m having a small dinner party at my house next Saturday night. Are you free?”

“Yes.” Trying hard not to sound bitter, I added “my social calendar seems to be rather open lately.”

“Well, that’s probably a good thing if you are working here. Do you like Lobster?”

“Lobster is great.” I said.

“Do you have a, uh, partner of any sort? Or will it just be you.”

“Uh, just me.”

“I’ll e-mail you directions.”

Later I got an e-mail with the subject “crustaceans”. It was addressed to me and 2 other people. It turns out that her significant other is returning from Boston on Friday. He is bringing a small crate of live lobsters with him.

Sounds delicious.

Drunk and Kissin' a Dog

You must be one hurtin’ puppy” Maurizio said with genuine empathy in his voice. At least somebody loves me.

We were at HMB (Half Moon Bay Brewery). It was dark and cold outside. It’s Monday, so there is no live music. We are at a table inside. I was drinking the pale ale, Maurizio the porter. I had finished telling Maurizio the story of the past month or so. Maurizio took a long swig of beer. We’re just having beer. Glen, the chief barkeep is here tonight. It’s slow, so he listens in and comments now and then. Like any good bar owner, he keeps our glasses full and acts like he cares about my troubles. I'm guessing hes heard his share of heartbreak stories.

“I hate Tim.” I said bitterly.

“Why?” Maurizio asked. “He didn’t do anything you wouldn’t have done.”

“Huh?”

“In fact, you did exactly what he did.”

“Well, not really.”

“Rich, you’re just justifying this to yourself. You would have done exactly what he did.”

“Are you trying to piss me off?”

“What did Tim do to you?”

“He took the love of my life.”

“How?”

“He slept with her.”

“As I recall, you did the same thing.”

“What?” Now he was really starting to make me mad.

“Weren’t you putting the moves on Lynn while she was with Jim?”

“It was over between them.”

“Well, you were getting a little tonsil action around Christmas. That was well before they broke up. And correct me if I’m wrong here, but you were sleeping with her while she was still living with Jim.” I was getting mad at him. Mostly because I knew he was right. This was karma. I did it to Jim. Tim did it to me. The only thing that could make this right was for someone to do it to Tim.

“Think about it from Tim’s perspective. He starts working with a new sexy girl. He asked her out to dinner. She says OK. She invites him back to her place for a cup of coffee after dinner. One thing leads to another. Next thing you know, love conquers all.” He paused – looking a little bored and irritated. “You’re not mad at Tim. And I think you know this.”

“Yeah, but I love Lynn. I can’t blame her.”

“Give it time, buddy. I’m going to give you some advice. You’re probably not going to take it. You just went through the worst kind of break-up. You got dumped during the exciting young love phase of the relationship. She dealt you one serious ration of hurtin’. You need to work though the seven stages of grief. Shock, denial, anger, drinking, more drinking, and I forget what else.”

“You know, she didn’t even try to hide it from me”

“Is that worse?”

“I think it is. Think about it. When someone hides it, at least they don’t want to hurt you. She didn’t even care if I was hurt or not. She didn’t care if I stayed or not. It was truly the opposite of love. When someone breaks up because they are angry at least they still care, there are still feelings. She had nothing.”

“I don’t think it’s that simple. Sure, some folks hide it because they don’t want to hurt their partner. For others, they know the cheating will hurt their partner, and they are afraid of facing the anger that comes from that. They’re cowards. Some really want to be out of the relationship, but they are too weak to end it. They move on anyway. They are real cowards, the biggest kind of jerks. Lynn was honest with you. Give her some credit for that. That had to be hard.”

“But why didn’t she care? How is it that she let me go so easily?”

“Rich, one day this will all be in perspective. You need to give it some time. I think it was hard for her to do this – harder than you think. Don’t get me wrong, it is a lot harder on you. But this wasn’t easy on her either.”

“You know, the funny thing is if I didn’t care about her, I could have shared her. Here’s this hot babe who could be an underwear model and I get to have sex with her 3 nights a week, and I don’t have to take out the trash or ‘relate’ to her or anything. When I get tired of her I just walk away, no guilt, no drama. What guy wouldn’t want that?”

“Hell, I’d be up for that. She’s not my type, but – you know - with the right guy that would be awesome.”

“So why couldn’t I do it?”

“You were in love.” He looked at me with a sad smile, “you are in love.”

“If only I had James Bond’s confidence.”

“I think she needs this now. You played this the best you could.”

“No. She said if I had just moved in she would have been mine.”

“Yeah, I read your blog. I’m not so sure. Things would have been different.”

“Then why would she say that? To torture me?”

“Rich, you gotta move on. She’s hurting, too. Yes, she’s being a selfish bitch, but haven’t you been selfish from time to time? We all have.”

“Intellectually, I know that noting has significantly changed from last month. In January she was sleeping with Jim – and I didn’t have her. Today, she is sleeping with Tim – and I don’t have her. The only thing that changed was the guy she’s with. Just one stinkin’ letter. Intellectually, I know that Tim didn’t do anything to me. It was her that I should be mad at. Emotionally, it’s a whole different story.”

“It’s not an intellectual exercise. It’s pointless to look at it that way.”

“You know, it’s not that she slept with him. She has a certain zest for life. I know this.”

“That’s part of why you fell for her.”

“And it’s not that she’s gonna sleep with him again. It’s that I’m losing her. But the part that really hurts so much is how she can so casually dismiss me.” I wiped my eye, holding back a tear. “Have you ever been dumped like this? I mean, right in the beginning when it is still fresh and new and wonderful?”

“Yeah. A long time ago.”

“You got over it?”

“No. Not really. I still carry the scars – it changes you. You never really get over something like this. It’s like your first love – you’ll remember it forever. Both the good and the bad - mostly the good. But you get past it. The pain will fade”

“Will I ever be the same?”

“No. But you’ll survive. And you’ll grow. And don’t ever do it to anyone else. And if you're smart, you'll learn from this. You'll be able to avoid this next time it comes at you.”

“What was the advice you were going to give me?”

“Give it a year. Don’t see Lynn - don't call her, don't e-mail her, don't text her. Don’t see other girls. Throw yourself into your work. Get a hobby. Get a dog. Anything. Don’t take a lover for a while. It will be bad for you and bad for her.”

“I can’t go on without Lynn as my friend.”

“Yeah, Rich, you really can. At the moment, she's not much of a friend. There’s an old movie – I can’t remember the title – but this old guy, I think it was Eddie Albert, is giving some advice to a kid, I seem to remember Gary Busey. Anyway, the kid is having problems with his lover. And the old guy is giving him some advice. He says ‘you can have a dog for a friend, and you can have whiskey for a friend, but when you have a woman for a friend – you are going to end up drunk and kissin’ your dog.’"

"Girls make wonderful friends” I protested.

"Yeah, they do. But like I said, she's not much of a friend now"

A Big Happy Pill

According to the good folks at Zoloft.com, if I don't snap out of this by tomorrow, I'm clinically depressed. I should consult a mental health professional and get them to prescribe me a big happy pill!

I don't want a pill.

I want Lynn back.

I'm quite sure that my alcohol consumption over the past few weeks surely qualifies me as an alcoholic, too.

Good times.

Party Time

There was a party at Pete’s house on Saturday night. Since I had nothing else to do I decided to go. Everyone from the company was invited and attended. Pete has a housemate (who works elsewhere) and a bunch of his friends were there, too. Pete is the director of engineering – I’m guessing he is about 30. He was at the CEO’s last start-up and obviously made a lot of money. He has a house in Cupertino and a ridiculously expensive car.

His house was very nice. On a big lot with a pool in the back-yard. Huge bonus room upstairs. The place is furnished in early frat-boy (am I sounding bitter again?) with a flourish of nerd. He has the Hydro-thunder arcade game – 3 consoles linked together – filling his dining room. These are the kind of video game that you sit inside of and you can virtually race against your friends in the next console. He has a 5 or 6 foot plasma TV in the family room.

It was a nice party and a nice diversion. There was a pretty girl there who was flirting with Pete in the kitchen. He was not really flirting back – but you could tell he was interested. Like many in the technology field, his social skills are not really refined. She was losing interest. She saw me looking at her and came over to talk. She started to flirt with me.

What an awful place to be in. I would like to take this beautiful girl home and make her the “rebound girl” whom I would use, abuse, and toss aside. I know this is wrong. This is even more wrong, as the director of engineering at the new and very small company that I work at has obvious interest in this girl. Not that this makes it any more morally repugnant – I know how painful it can be to be tossed aside – and I would not do that. And it sure would complicate life at the office.

No, it’s best to just chat with her and deflect her advance. I tell her what a great guy Pete is. We have a couple of glasses of wine together, and I work very hard at telling her nothing at all of my past few months.

I leave the party early – it’s too hard not to whine.

Can't eat, Can't sleep

I’ve been trying not to just drown my sorrows, and I've been somewhat successful. Funny thing is that when I get up in the morning, even if I haven’t been drinking, I still feel like I have a hangover. It’s like the hangover is not a result of the alcohol, but from the lack of quality sleep.

I sleep 2 or 3 hours a night. Toss and turn for a couple of hours. I take brisk walks through the neighborhood, which relives some of the stress and gives me time to think. I also am doing a lot more paddling – solo. I know that is dangerous – but the best time to go is before work. I'm not going to find a paddle buddy who wants to get up at 4 something in the morning. I rarely sleep past 5:00. So I can get in a good 90 minute paddle, come home and shower and still make it to work before anyone else. Also, I’ve been throwing myself into my work. Pulling pretty long hours. Once I get into the zone, I can concentrate on work and not think about Lynn.

This heartache is like a cancer. It's eating away at my soul. It's turning me into a jerk - I'm cranky nasty - I snap at everyone. It's sucking the joy from my life and everything that I do. I want this to be over.
.

Things will never be the same again

I arrived at Lynn’s apartment a little before 9. I brought a bottle of wine – a New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc. Yes, she already had plenty of my wine, but I don’t like to arrive empty handed. I also didn’t want to know what she and Tim had enjoyed. I came to the door and realized, painfully, that I no longer had a key. Tim had it, I’m sure.

She let me in. I noticed a new picture on the wall. She told me later that it was a housewarming gift from Tim. Lame. I get her $300 worth of wine, and he buys her a $12 picture from a drug store. I’m serious, it’s an 8 by 10 cheesy picture of a waterfall. There is a motorcycle helmet on her bookcase. I know that Tim drives some kind of motorcycle. Damn.

She was just finishing up preparing dinner. We sat down to eat on the floor of her eating nook. She still had no furniture. We chatted about nothing significant through most of dinner.

“You know, guys usually show more appreciation for my cooking.”

I realized that this was the first time she cooked for me since leaving Jim. I ate there a lot, but I usually cooked (she occasionally did.) Her cooking was good, and I usually showed some appreciation. Today I just had no appetite.

“Um, yeah, this is good. Thanks for dinner.” I said without enthusiasm.

“Yeah, right. Thanks for the compliment.” She said with sarcasm.

“When guys gush over how great your food is, they are usually trying to get into your pants, right?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Do you know how many women have told me that I am the biggest and the best? Whenever they want me I am the best at everything. Once things end, they tell me they faked all their orgasms. So I can be honest with you. – we’re not sleeping together anymore – your cooking is good, but it's not great. I really do appreciate the dinner, though”

“You’re welcome. I’m still your friend, you know” she smiled genuinely. Then she frowned and sighed. “This is so hard.”

“What?”

“Dinner with you.”

“Why? Is this your pity dinner? The one you do with all your dumped boyfriends?”

“Not all of them.” She shrugged.

Just the ones that inspire guilt, I guessed.

We finished dinner and I helped her clean up. We took some wine to the loveseat in her living room and sat down.

“You know, you could have just moved in and had me” she told me.

“What?”

“Why didn’t you?” she asked.

“Move in here?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“You told me that you didn’t want that. You told me over and over again. You said you didn’t want me to move in. That we couldn’t be together. That you needed space.” I realized that I was almost yelling.

“I mean if you were here, I never would have started with Tim.” She said as if she hadn’t heard me. Oh my god. That cut me to the core. I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out what I’ve done wrong. How I could have played things better. How I could have kept her. I listened to her. That was my problem. I needed to ignore what she said and just do what I wanted. I always thought that listening to women and doing with they asked was the right thing. I always thought that that would be the best way to a woman’s heart. Serves me right for trying to be a sensitive man of the new millennium. Women never fall for sensitive guys. I know this. How could I fall for that trap? Women want cave men.

“So I was supposed to ignore what you said, and just move in? Do everything you told me not to? Is that what you want?”

“When men really want something, they go for it.”

Oh, OK. “No” means “maybe”. “Maybe” means “screw my brains out”. It really crushed me to know how close I had been. It really hurt to know that being a gentleman cost me the girl. Yup, guys. Be a jerk and you get the girl. Do what you’re asked and you’re a wimp – they’ll show you the door. Why are women like this - I'll never understand.

I began to wonder where we really stood. “Does Tim know that we stopped sleeping together?”

“That’s none of your business” she replied tartly. I didn’t think about it at the time, but if it wasn’t any of my business that I knew that he knew that I wasn’t sleeping with Lynn, then it wasn’t any of his business knowing that I wasn’t sleeping with Lynn. I realized that I was really being pushed out from her life.

“Yes” she said after a short pause, somewhat sheepishly. Well, I guess it was my business after all. My heart sank.

“So he knows that he won.”

“It’s not a competition. I’m not a football field.”

I tried as hard as I could to see if there was any chance to win her back. We talked in circles for hours. Finally, I said “I just want things to be the same as they were before Tim”

“I can’t remember what that was like.”

“That was just a week ago. You have to remember, it was wonderful. We were in love, and you know it.”

“It can’t be the way it was.”

“Yes, it can. Just stop seeing him. Just end it.”

“No, it wouldn’t matter. Things can never be the same as they were.” And she started sobbing.

A Dinner Date

I meant to post this yesterday, but got rudely disconnected - here it is, post dated:

I called Lynn from work yesterday at about 7:30. She was at her apartment.

“Hi” I said.

“How you doing?”

“Hanging in there.”

“What’s up?”

“Can you talk?”

“I’m not alone, but yeah, I can talk.”

“I really wanted to say that I’m sorry for how I’ve acted over the past week or so. You know, I’ve been dumped before and I’ve done my share of dumping. I know that dumping is hard – and I’m sure I made it more difficult on you. I don’t want to be an asshole.”

“It’s OK, Rich. I know you’re hurt and angry. I understand. You haven't been an asshole”

“Yeah, well, I just want to say I’m sorry.” I can’t believe this. She is a jerk and I’m apologizing!?!? I’ve lost my mind.

“Hey Rich, I’ll make you dinner. Tomorrow night. Can you make it?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll bring some wine – late OK.”

“Never mind with the wine – I have a bunch. How about 9:00, my place?”

“It’s OK with Tim?”

“Don’t worry about him – just us.”

OK. So, I know how wrong this is. I know that this exactly what you are not supposed to do. Don’t talk to you ex until you are over her. This gives me hope, only to be crushed again – even more pain that I don’t need. I’ll just show her how right she was for picking Tim, how unhappy I am without her. This is so wrong.

I’m really looking forward to dinner tomorrow.