Sunday Drive

It was about 11 at night. I was driving up highway 85 with the top down. It was surprisingly warm for October in the bay area. The phone rang and I answered it. It was Heidi. She’s up in Ashland Oregon where they do some kind of Shakespeare thing. Heidi and her friends make an annual event of it. So I was on my own for the weekend. Normally I would work, but we just finished a large project, and the next one hasn’t started. I slowed the car a bit to reduce the wind noise. “Hey how were the plays?”

“Great.” She regaled me with some highlights. “You driving?” she asked.

“Yeah, headed home.”

“Where’d you go?”

Ooh. I got a knot in my stomach. I have been really honest with Heidi, and now was not the time to start hiding things from her. “I was over at Lynn’s” I said as nonchalantly as possible.

“Oh.” She said, disappointed, but not surprised. There was silence for a moment. “It’s late.” She said, stating the obvious, but her accusation was clear.

Shit. I should have sent this to voicemail. “Nothing happened.” I tried not to sound defensive. Hey, you’re the one who went away for the weekend – with guys tagging along, I might add. I left this unsaid. I have no claim at all on her. I’m lucky she talks to me. “How dumb do you think I am?”

“When it comes to her…” she didn’t finish her sentence.

“I had dinner with an old friend. That’s all it was.”

“Should I come over tomorrow? You have time?”

“Yeah, things are slow at work.”

The Friday before this conversation, I had gone home early and continued to be in a foul mood. I decided to go for a long paddle on Saturday and headed out early in the morning to Sausilido. Maybe a change of venue would cheer me up. There’s a nice yacht harbor there and still enough wind and waves to get a good workout. I needed to go either early or late to avoid the tides. I paddled angry for a good 3 hours and exhausted myself.

I hosed my boat and myself off and then had lunch in the park near the waterfront. Watched the people go by.

Went home and made myself a bowl of risotto – my favorite comfort food. Downed it with a bottle of chianti, and still had a hard time falling asleep.

Sunday morning, I called her. (Lynn for you new readers, the woman who put my heart through a meat grinder, now dumped by the guy she left me for.)

It was about 10 a.m. “Did I wake you?”

“No.”

“How have you been?”

“I’ve been better. It’s been a while.”

I didn’t know what to say – you threw me out. “yeah” I lamely replied. I’d let her steer the conversation.

“How have you been?”

“I’ve been better, too.”

Now I was wondering why I called. This was awkward. We had talked after our break-up, but not since she got dumped by Tim. “I hear you and Heidi are quite the item now.”

“Oh?”

“Well the office gossip is all about a weekend in Monterrey.”

“Mmm”

“She asked me about you.”

“What’d you tell her?”

“I told her you were a great date. You really know how to take good care of a woman. And to be kind to you, cause you’ve been through a lot lately.”

“Thanks.”

“I didn’t give her any details.”

“I did.”

“You what?”

“Yeah, well…” I explained how things happened with Heidi. And there it was – we were back in our groove. It was not awkward. We were talking about our love lives. And then I did remember why I called. I just really needed to hear her say “Rich, I’m sorry.” Don’t know why. I just needed to hear it.

We talked some more. We both laughed at something. “I’ll buy you a beer.” I said.

“Crows nest?”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“Now.”

“Well, come get me.”

I drove over to her apartment. I walked her out to my car. “Where’s the truck?” she asked.

“I bough this, it’s more fun.”

“This is yours? Oh my god, Rich, you bought this?” She knew in an instant.

“Yeah.” I couldn’t suppress a grin.

She looked at me and took my hand. “You were really in love – weren’t you?”

“Couldn’t you tell?”

“Yeah.” She looked away “And it scared me. I really wasn’t ready for that.”

I waited for it “I’m sorry, Rich”, but it never came. I opened the car door for her.

“This is crazy, Rich!” She called out as I got in.

Yeah, this is crazy, I thought.

We had a nice lunch at the crows nest and had a couple of drinks while watching the boats go in and out of the harbor. Driving home, we took the car up highway 1 then over 84 – winding through the Santa Cruz mountains. It was a wonderful day for the drive.

As we got towards Los Gatos she asked what we should do for dinner. I volunteered to make a fettuccini alfreado with chicken. She put her arm on my shoulder in an affectionate gesture. “That would be so nice. I am so tired of cooking for guys.” I almost smacked her. For Tim you cook, for me you lounge on the couch and watch!?!? WTF, that’s not right.

Guys, do not be the one that cooks. Be the one that is cooked for.

There’s a lesson to be learned here, but I’m too thick to pick it up. We stop to get ingredients for dinner. And a bottle of wine.

I cook her dinner, and we eat sitting on the floor of her breakfast nook. She still has no furniture but what we extracted from her home with Jim (and the bed).

Late in the evening, lingering over the last of the wine, she asks “So where does that leave us?”

“Well, I don’t trust you any further than I can throw you.”

“And you can’t throw me very far.” She's probably all of 95 pounds, I could get some good distance on her, I thought, not that I would.

“And I’m not sure I want to be your second choice.”

“Yeah,” she said “I can understand that.”

And again, I waited for it. “I’m sorry, Rich” but it never came.

I seriously wish she had not gotten dumped by Tim. This is hard, in so many ways. But, I am not going to get entangled as long as I am with Heidi. And with that thought I got up and walked out the door. 10 minutes later, Heidi called.

Scars

Badges of honor, or ugly disfigurement??

Today, at work, we recognized a significant accomplishment. To mark the occasion, the company passed out commemorative T-shirts and we took a company photo on the lawn out in front of the building. All were required to don the new T shirt and pose.

The T-shirts were short sleeve.

I have some very bad scars on my left arm from a car accident. As a result, I usually (well, always) wear long sleeved shirts - so no one needs to see the ugliness.

So for picture taking day, I brought along a long sleeve white tee shirt, which I wore under the company one. Kristen, VP of marketing and company fashionista, did not approve. "Rich, that just does not work. Take off the long sleeve shirt." She ordered, before the photo shoot.

"I can't"

"Why not?"

I rolled up my left sleeve to expose some of the scaring.

"What?" she asked.

"The scars. They're all over my arm. I don't want to ruin the picture."

"What happened?" She asked.

I explained about the car crash - the drunk driver (it's all in some old post).

"Oh, for goodness sake." she scoffed. "No one will see it. There are 40 people in the picture - you won't be able to see the texture of the skin on your arm."

"I'm really not that comfortable exposing it."

"Rich, people with scars are much more interesting. You should wear it proudly as part of what made you who you are today. Don't hide it. Scars are a badge of honor."

No, scars are just an ugly disfigurement. They are not a source of pride. At least that's my point of view. There's nothing cool about looking ugly, and nothing cool about almost losing an arm.

I left my shirt on.

The CEO was wearing his jacket (over the T shirt - that didn't work either)

But what about the scars you can't see? The ones on the inside. I doubt I'll ever get over what Lynn did to me. It's a scar I'll carry on my soul forever.

Badge of honor?

Ugly disfigurement?

How does one tell the difference?

More Blunk Drogging

Hrmpph.

Heidi's gone.

We just finished up a big project at work. Went home early. Tomorrow looks like a slow day.

All dressed up and no where to go.

So here I sit - looking at my cell and not texting or calling anyone. I want to call Heidi. I want to drive up to Oregon to get her. That would end badly. I want to call Lynn. I want to drive to Los Gatos to get her. That would end badly. I want someone to want me. Phone, ring, dammit.

I recently turned 35. There are crow's feet around my eyes. Sadly, more frown lines than laugh lines. That says more than I want to admit. I'm getting old. Some guys age gracefully. I don't think I will. Sean Connery is 80 and is hot. How does that happen?

Fuck. I'm tired of hurting. I was once happy. I was once loved. There's no light at the end of the tunnel.

Is this it? Is it over? 3 fucking weeks. That's all. But they were beyond belief.

So I open a really good bottle of Merlot. And drink it all. Put one some jazz. Check gmail again - no one's sending anything. Read the blogs over again. Fade into oblivion.

God, I would give anything for one of Mina's Kobe beef cheeseburgers right now. Fries done in rendered duck fat. Too late - he's closed.

I wonder what Sarah is up to. She was a wonderful person. I google her. No new pages.

Seattle is 461 miles father than Ashland from here.

I am so tired of being sad. And I know you're tired of reading me whine.

I have gained almost 15 pounds in the last six months. Yeah, in a weird way, that's an accomplishment. You can't control your body. Not much, anyway. It is what it is.

I wonder what's next.

It can't be worse than pondering what I have lost.

Thanks for reading. I'll be cheerful next time.

After hours office visit

Well, I guess Heidi picked up on my bad mood over the last couple of days. Or maybe she was feeling guilty about going off for the weekend without me. Not sure which. But tonight she stopped by the office at about 8. She knew I would be working late (we've been in a real push lately, so everyone's putting in long hours, hence the lack of posts - too much work and nothing of note happening in my life.) Anyway, she called from her car and said she was in the parking lot, and asked me to open the back door for her.

I met here there and let her in. We went up to my cubicle, where she produced a bottle of champagne and a quart of very delicious looking strawberries. Hmm, she's picking up this decadence thing pretty well.

So there I am with a flute of champagne in my hand and Heidi is putting a big fat strawberry in my mouth, and who walks around the corner, but the executive VP. This guy basically runs the place. The CEO is the leader, but day to day operations are handled by the Exec VP. He looks at me and says (rather loudly and in an accusing tone) "What the fuck is this?"

Which is OK, every third word out of his mouth is an f-bomb. That's just the way he is. And he's good enough and rich enough not to care. Yeah, it's not very professional, but that's the way he expresses himself.

Heidi, who has never met him, goes pale. She must have believed that she just got me into a world of trouble. That was not the case and I knew it.

I gave the VP my best confused look (I'm really good at that) "What do you mean?"

"Strawberries? Champagne?" he replied.

"I thought... " I paused for dramatic effect "I, I thought that was company policy. When you work late you get a beautiful blonde with strawberries and champagne." (trying to look confused again) "This happens every night, right?"

The VP laughed. "Only thing I get when I work late is a ration of shit!"

He proceeded to introduce himself to Heidi and was quite charming. He took a strawberry, and moved on.

Heidi whispered to me "I almost peed myself. Is he always like that?"

"He's harmless." I told her.

I'm pissed

Don't know why. I'm just in a foul mood.

Had dinner with Heidi tonight. I went over to her cottage and cooked for her. Brought all the ingredients and a good bottle of wine. Prepped everything, cooked everything, washed all the dishes (no dishwasher), put them away. And dammit if she isn't ragging on me for how I'm washing the dishes. Seriously, after I bring food and wine, cook, clean, and put away, I expect "Thanks, Rich". Even if you didn't like it - just a "thanks" for the effort. I'd like an after dinner blow job - but OK - you can't always get what you want. Seriously ladies - a guy comes over, cooks, cleans, put everything away. Doesn't that deserve a thanks?

Who complains about how someone washes their dishes! WTF! I mean if the food was edible (it was!) and the dishes get clean (they did!) and they are put back where they belong (they were!) a modicum of gratitude is in order. I left her kitchen cleaner than when I found it.

"Oh, I don't wash my dishes that way." OK, fine! You wash them any way you want! Buh bye. That's what I should have said. I should have flung a plate across the room and stormed out. I didn't. I washed them the way she wanted. Fuckin' wuss.

After dinner I left.

I told her I had an early day tomorrow. And I just left.

Deep breath.

And in other news. Heidi is going up to Ashland, Oregon this weekend. Going to some Shakespeare plays. Leaving Thursday. Going with a few couples and a few strays.

Deep breath.

"Maybe you can come with next year." She said. It's an annual event for her. What? They ran out of hotel rooms? I can't sleep in the car, in a tent, on the sidewalk? Stay home, Rich, I'm going out to play with my friends.

Deep breath.

Maybe - more that just maybe - I'm pissed at Lynn. She never called. Broken heart. Knows that I was the better man. Knows that I would not hurt her. Knows I've got the bigger dick. Knows she had to fake all her orgasms with Tim. And now she's alone. But did not call.

Did not beg forgiveness.

Did not want to reconnect.

Did not even want to know how I was.

Why do I want her?

Maybe I'm mad at myself. For wanting her. For needing her. For not being able to learn. For getting involved with Heidi.

I'm just pissed.

Perhaps I should not blunk drog. I think I'll have a another martini. Yeah, that'll make the pain go away.

Did you call her?

"Who?" I feigned ignorance. I don't know why.

Heidi scoffed on the other end of the phone. "Lynn."

"No." I said as steadily as I could.

"Are you going to?"

"I don't know."

"Why wouldn't you?"

"I don't particularly care to be someone's second choice." My brain was clearly in charge today.

"Hmm."

"And, she treated me pretty badly. I don't need that." I wish I could believe what I was saying.

"You're staring to sound smart."

No, I just told my heart to shut the f**k up.

Catch-up post #3

Here is what happened on the big trip to Big Sur.