Year 30

Even though my posts have become much fewer and much farther between, I haven’t resigned this blog because I know that the moment I do, I will be instantly struck with the urge to write another post.  I am keeping the blog here so that I can return periodically with updates on the life of SF.  So, for my dear readers (if any), here is a brief recap of the last couple of months.

1.  I was stranded in L.A. for Christmas because of the freakish weather in the Pacific Northwest, but happily I got to spend a lovely Christmas Day with friends.  I also discovered that one of the perks of being an only child is that my parents saved our Christmukkah celebration until I got home, so we opened all our presents and had a nice meal with my grandfather on Dec. 27th.  I was so happy to see my family, albeit belatedly.  I also had the good fortune of seeing my best friend who lives in England and was in town.  And the whole week, my wonderful BF was taking all sorts of photos on his camera phone (he was back East with his own family) and texting them to me so that we felt like we were together.  Shmoopy?  Who, us?

2.  Yesterday was my 29th birthday, or as I was reminded by several people, the beginning of my 30th year on this planet.  This is poised to be a very interesting year.  In some ways it will be a scary and uncertain year, with the state of the economy and the general feeling of flux.  But I still (perhaps naively) have high hopes that this will be a fabulous year.  I think it will be a year of change and a year of growth.  And I can’t wait to see where it brings me. 

3.  This year I will be in two wedding parties (so far – you never know what might happen!), attending at least two bachelorette parties, and going on a couple of cool vacations (in just a few days, Vail; at the end of the year, Australia!).  

4.  In sadder news, the girl who has been my best work friend and lifeline since we started as summer associates together in the summer of 2004 is leaving me (what about my needs?!) and moving up north.   I am still in complete denial about my life after she leaves the firm, so I am trying not to think about it.  (SF covers her ears.  La la la la la la!)

5.  My relationship, which is now four months old, is still swimming along perfectly.  I am at a loss for what to say about it that will adequately describe it, but I have been feeling a LOT of warm fuzzies.   I don’t think I ever realized that I could love someone so much, and I know we are just getting started.

6.  My New Year’s resolution is to dust off my elliptical machine and use it for something other than a clothes hanger, and so far so good.   My trick is that I am totally obsessed with renting DVDs of the show “Friday Night Lights” on Netflix (I am at the end of season 1.  It’s so good!!)  So I put on the DVD and watch an episode while I ride.  I know it’s a bit premature to boast about my resolution-keeping on January 12, so hopefully it will continue!

7.  This weekend I am going to try to learn to snowboard.  Again.  Wish me luck, and no severe injuries.

8.  Noodles is doing well, and I only sustained minor scratch wounds when I tried to get him in his cat carrier over the holidays (and two holes in my sweater).

With that, dear readers, I am calling it a day.  If anyone is still reading and you have particular things you are curious about, feel free to comment or email me!

Till next time, happy 2009!

xoxo

SF

At Last

My dear readers (if I even have any after my long blogging hiatus!):  I know it’s been almost two months, which is practically an eternity in the blogosphere.  I know we have a lot of catching up to do, and that it will be near impossible to really do that justice.  I have been lurking on my favorite blogs, but not commenting as much as I used to.  I guess you could say I’ve been taking a blog-cation of sorts.

But here I am, having tied up my work-related loose ends before being out of the office at a hearing tomorrow, and then up in Oregon for Thanksgiving.   I’m looking for something to do, and I’m thinking that I want to blog again.  I feel rusty, and I don’t really know where to start.

*Deep breath*  Diving right in, I suppose!

So last time you tuned in to the Single/Fabulous show, there were two promising guys on the horizon.  And for the past two months, there has been just one.  One guy who is, in a word, amazing.  Somehow, after all the heartaches that I have poured out to you, and after all the douchebaggery (sorry!  I love that word) I have endured from the male persuasion, and after all the first and second dates that went nowhere….somehow, when I least expected it, this guy virtually fell out of the sky and into my lap.  (Ok, so I met him at a friend’s party.  But it felt as unexpected as if he’d fallen out of the sky.  Even though we had met once before, he was totally off of my radar when we “re-met.”)  And our relationship is honestly exactly the kind of relationship I’ve been looking for.

I’ve been having sort of a quandary about the blog.  I haven’t wanted to write about him because I respect his privacy.  I haven’t wanted to tell him about the blog because I think he should learn about my past history from me directly, not from the blog.  And I have felt strange about the idea of keeping a secret blog from him because I don’t like the idea of keeping anything important a secret.  Besides, secrecy is not my strong suit.  I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve, especially with people I care about.  And even if I made thre effort, inevitably at some point I would slip and say “In my blog, I wrote…”  and then the rest will be history.  Not to mention the more simple issue of time.  I just don’t have the hours that I used to devote to blogging each week anymore.  Anyway, I have not reached any real conclusions about those things…still thinking about it.

In the past I haven’t written about relationships so as not to jinx them, but in this case I’m not worried.  Even though it’s only been a couple of months, we’ve fallen head over heels in love.  Not in the all-consuming drama-filled angsty way of my past, but the lovely, happy, peaceful-yet-exciting way.  We’re spending a ton of time together, we’re meeting each others’ friends and families, we’re learning new things about each other every day, we’re making lots of plans.  He prompted my friend J. to say, “He doesn’t give off the tool/douchebag vibe.”  (Sad to say, none of the other guys I’ve dated in the past two years earned this endorsement.)  He even has the Noodles stamp of approval.  🙂 

I don’t even know how to explain how good it feels.  I’m just so, so happy.

Thank you, Universe!

Douchebaggery, Ivy Style

***Warning: Ivy League insults ahead.  Ivy leaguers who read my blog (ahem, KB), close your eyes and/or promise not to be TOO offended.***

Tonight I went to an event put on by The Ivy Plus Society.  (Also known as “TIPS.”)  This is a group whose members are exclusively people who went to one of a short list of schools — Ivy league or similar.  You don’t have to be a TIPS member to go to an event, you can be invited by a member, which is good… being that I don’t qualify for TIPS since neither my undergrad nor my law school appear on the short list of sufficiently-elite institutions.  (Though, the med school and business school at the university where I did law school ARE on the list.  Hmm.)

I was originally supposed to go with my co-worker R., who went to Harvard Law, but she had to work late so I persuaded my dear friend T. to accompany me.  “I hope you know how much your friendship means to me since I am going to hang out with a bunch of snooty Ivy leaguers with you on a Tuesday night,” she emailed me.  After we left the event, she remarked, “Yep, that was the level of douchebaggery that I would expect from the Ivy League.”

The event was put on at a swanky bar in Hollywood.  When we arrived, we checked in under my faux name and we headed to the bar to get drinks (the typically obscene $11 for a vodka/grapefruit juice, when really I should have just gotten a soda cause it was so damn hot at the rooftop bar.  What is up with it being 90 plus degrees in almost-October?  Sheesh).  Then we went up to the roof.  It was a really well attended event – the roof was teeming with people, and I was sort of startled by how good looking some of the people were, both men and women.  We talked in our own huddle for a while before venturing into the masses.  It didn’t take long for us to be approached, and from then on we were talking in groups.  I even gave out my business card to a few people — my  firm’s marketing director would be so proud.  (Is it bad that I am hoping to God none of them call or email me?)

There was one particular guy who stood out as receiving the Douchebag award of the evening, however.   He approached us with the winning line, “So we have new question other than ‘What do you do?’ Instead, we’ll ask ‘Where have you been lately?'”

Douchebag had recently been to the East Coast, where he’s from.  Douchebag’s Friend (DF), who was actually really nice, apparently had been somewhere soooo cool that he had to save talking about it till the end.  But when it came around, DF said he’d recently been to Burning Man and he was telling us all about it.  Now, I know Burning Man is a huge event.  And call me a snob, yuppie, prude, what have you.  But seriously, a big party in the desert?  Are we still in college?  As Sarah Palin claims to have said about the Bridge to Nowhere (ha!  HA!), “Thanks, but no thanks.”

Douchebag is a software engineer but was wearing the Hollywood Douche uniform of jeans, T shirt and white blazer.  When talking to me and another girl, he gave insightful (not) commentary on how he wouldn’t mind a Great Depression if it would sort itself out afterward.  He kept making comments that would have us glancing sidelong at each other, mouths agape.   He said he really likes body language more than just spoken language.  He said it with a seflf assured way and a cock of the head that implied, “Why don’t we go communicate through some body language in my apartment, baby.”

Douchebag also was the second person in as many networking events I have attended recently to tell me that I am “unassuming.”  T. started laughing and told him that wasn’t the first time that I’d heard that recently.  He then tried really hard to say “that’s a good thing!  Really, don’t change!”  (My dear readers said the same thing, I guess it must be true.)   Not that I want to be the opposite of unassuming — but I don’t know, I think I’d rather that not be the first adjective that jumps to mind.

Douchebag also apparently told T., while I was talking to someone else, that she is “sensual.”  Yeah, hi, Creepy McCreeperson.  Don’t let the gorgeous engagement ring stop you.

And he told T. and me, eyes shifting and rolling drunkenly in his head, that men didn’t know how to be men anymore, that the club scene has changed since he moved to LA in 2001.

And because I, unlike T., have not perfected the art of clean escape, and because we had talked to these guys so long at this point that I felt bad despite myself, I gave them both my card.

Here’s hoping they don’t use it.

In case you were wondering

Hello dear readers,

I know that I have been MIA on the blog circuit this week, both in terms of writing in this here blog and reading/ commenting on the blogs I follow.  So I just wanted to reassure you that things are going quite swimmingly in the life of SF.  I am totally exhausted from a long week and a long weekend of travel (drove up to Monterey on Friday, spent the night, drove back yesterday for a wedding, and am so tired now that I am passing out at 10 pm on the dot tonight) but I am also very happy.  My life seems to be at this wonderful state of zen that I am loving, after struggling for months earlier this year with constant state of angst/anxiety/malaise.  Now I feel very peaceful and content and it’s a great feeling.

Also, though I am not going to go into detail to respect his privacy, I am dating an awesome guy now and things are going great.  This is the first time in as long as I can remember where I really connect with the other person on every level and where the interest and attraction is 100% mutual.   I don’t want to get too ahead of myself, but this guy is something special.

Off to get some shut eye, more later!

We’ve Come a Long Way, Baby

Back from the reunion, dear readers, and I promised stories!

Overall, I must say that the reunion was more fun and not at all traumatizing like I imagined, and I’m very glad I went because I think I’ve laid rest to a few of my neuroses – it’s about time!

As you know, I had worked myself up into a near panic over the horror of going to the reunion by myself.  And yet, in the end, I was actually really happy to be there on my own and to be able to talk to everyone I wanted to without torturing somone else!  (Case in point – my friend A.’s husband spent most of the evening by the bar getting progressively more drunk.) 

And even more than feeling ok being there by myself, I felt genuinely ok being single.  It was good to see people, and it was good to catch up.  Most everyone looks great (the girls more so than the guys, actually), and seems happy with whatever they are doing.  But listening to everyone talk about their lives, there isn’t anyone I’d want to switch places with, for all the husbands and babies and all that.   There isn’t anyone I’d rather be than who I am right now.  Which is not to say that my life is perfect – it is a work in progress, of course – but it’s my own.   And I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

On another note, at the risk of sounding narcissistic, several people told me I looked great, and for once I believed them!  I don’t even mind that I was sort of nerdy in high school because I’d so much rather look better in my 20’s/30’s than have peaked in high school.   (On a related note: they were showing videos of school assemblies from our senior year, and in one of them I and the rest of the cast of Steel Magnolias, which I had a lead role in, had to do a little dance in front of the WHOLE SCHOOL to “R-E-S-P-E-C-T.”  I was mortified watching this.  I was such a dork, I was wearing a totally fugly sweater, a black skirt and black tights.  Oh, how happy I am not to be in HS anymore!)

Anyway, the most entertaining encounter of the evening was with a guy named KM.  Before my mom became a professor, she was a 5th grade teacher at a different elementary school than the one I went to, but one that fed into the same high school as mine.  So one class of my mom’s students ended up being in my graduating class.  One such guy was KM.  My mom loved him, and I thought he was totally cute in high school, but he never ever gave me the time of day. 

This weekend I was showing my mom the Facebook photos of some of my high school friends and some of her former students, including KM.  She requested that if he were at the reunion, that I get a picture with him.  (I thought yeah right…I’m going to ask a guy who barely spoke to me in high school for a photo.)

Later in the evening, A. and I were getting a second drink at the bar when a guy we didn’t recognize started chatting with us.  (Not to digress too much, but this guy was in the running for the biggest douche in the universe prize.  He kept appearing all night with such winning lines as “I’m a corporate lawyer and a professional asshole.”  No shit, Sherlock.)  Anyway, I asked him whose husband he was and he said no, he was a friend of KM’s.

Right.  I spotted KM and smiled, and he gave me a quizzical look like he was trying to place me and I figured that was that.

But later in the night I was in a circle of people and KM snaked up behind me, started running his hand all over my back, and said “You look so beautiful.”  Then he told me that he’d seen some pictures of me on Facebook, and commented, “You just got back from a trip, right?”  I responded with, “Oh yeah, I saw some pictures of you too.  And your really cute girlfriend.”  Then he got all weird and was like, “Oh, that;s just a girl I used to date…it’s complicated.”  (Who puts pictures of an ex on Facebook?)

He came up to me several more times, his eyes looking more glazed and drunk by the minute, touching my back and saying I was beautiful.  He was like “we need to catch up!  Give me the update!”  But of course, when  tried to ask what he was up to, he’d give totally evasive answers like “Just living the dream!”  Then he’d say “we should go to a quiet corner to catch up…we keep getting interrupted.”

It was such a funny feeling, to have a guy I used to think was so hot (and who is still quite good looking) be trying to put the sleaze moves on me, and I just stood there thinking “Ugh, pathetic.”

I figured I might as well make my mom happy so this wouldn’t be a total waste, so I asked KM to take a photo with me along with another of her former students (who is now a math teacher and football coach at our high school and is totally the wholesome young teacher who all the girls must have crushes on).  KM then launched into, I love your mom.  If I could date your mom, I totally would.  Your mom is such a panther.

A PANTHER?

Yeah, you know, a panther.  30 to 39 is a Puma.  40 to 49 is a Cougar.  50 to 59 is a Panther.  And 60 and up is a Silver Panther.

Oh holy mother of god.  Yes, he actually called my sweet, innocent mom a Panther.  Happily, her other student was looking suitably skeeved/horrified.

I told my mom this and she cracked up.  If I had known he was like that, I would never have had you talk to him, she said.

I wonder if she’s flattered to be called a Panther?

Matchmaking Madness Part II

So, today the guy I want to set you up with came up to me after class.  He said,  So why do I have to wait 5 months to meet this mystery woman?  Why can’t I just meet her for coffee or lunch now? I told him that if he didn’t like her, or she didn’t like him, I didn’t want either of you to feel awkward around me.  And he said,  Oh come on, I’m not like that! 

“Well, Mom, don’t worry, I won’t feel awkward around you either.  And this guy wouldn’t be so excited if he knew that his mystery woman lived in Los Angeles.”

Anyway, it sounds like he’s going to come to the happy hour at El Torito I put together for my students next Friday when you’re in town.  So that way you can meet then. 

“Oh, I’m sure he won’t put two and two together.  ‘I have a mystery woman I want to set you up with.  On a totally unrelated note, I’d like you to meet my single 28-year old daughter.’  Frankly, if he doesn’t put two and two together, I don’t want to date someone so dense. ”

I’m not going to tell him it’s you.  And if he ever asks me, I’ll say ‘Wow, that’s a good idea!'”

“But then you actually have to pull another girl out of thin air.  You know, I sort of feel sorry for this guy.  He thinks he’s going to meet some woman who lives in Eugene.”

Oh, now I feel guilty! 

“I think you need to fix this guy up with someone now.  On the bright side, now you can shift your focus away from setting me up and onto setting him up!”

Maybe I can set up an eHarmony profile for him!

“Um, Mom, you know you have to PAY for eHarmony….”

I’m going to be paying for this one way or another!

“You’re telling me.”

One Bite at a Time

When eating an elephant, take one bite at a time.

It seems that’s a good rule of thumb for a lot of things in life, isn’t it?  Often I find that if I look too far ahead and try to think about all my upcoming deadlines and plans and stresses, I get overwhelmed and just want to curl into a little ball and watch Gossip Girl.  (Sidenote: actually, I think I might be giving up that show.  It’s just mildly depressing to watch a show about teenagers who have way more sex than me.  Not that that’s hard, since I am not having any.  But you get my drift.) 

But anyway.  Like I was saying, looking too far ahead can make me panic.  But if I break down what I have to do into bite-sized portions, it seems much more manageable.

And so it goes with therapy.  My last session was two weeks ago (because of a Labor Day hiatus) and that was the day I really had my eyes opened to how much work I have to do in being able to express my emotions.  And my first reaction was omething along the lines of “Fuuuuck!”

But my friends and dear readers reassured me that this is something that we all struggle with, that in a relationship I will work on this with someone else, and that it’s a process.  My friend O. said she didn’t want me to feel like a “ticking time bomb.”  And yeah, I guess that is honestly how I felt.  So one bite at at a time it is.

Still, it is a hard path to figure out how to make little changes and alterations, day to day.  Sometimes I feel like not only do I have a hard time expressing my feelings, I don’t even know what that means.  Today my therapist was asking me about the guys I have been seeing and was asking me about my dates with guy #1.  I told her that we had good conversations.

So have you talked about your feelings with him?  I don’t mean your feelings FOR each other, but just in general.

Well…not really.  I mean, that’s hard to do early on, we don’t know each other that well.

It isn’t always hard.  It isn’t hard with everyone.  So what did you talk about on the hike, besides the plants you were seeing along the way?

I don’t know.  I guess I don’t know what you mean by talking about feelings. 

Well, like happy, sad, etc.  As opposed to talking about thinking things, like talking about Obama vs. McCain.   Though I suppose you could have feelings about that.

Oh, believe me, I do.

So what if a guy talks about his feelings?  Does that make it easier?

Well, yeah, I guess then I find it easier to open up.

****

Dear readers, what do you think?  What does “talking about feelings” mean to you in the first-few-dates context?  Do you talk about your feelings?  When, and to whom?

My “homework” for the week is to take notice of when I am feeling something and don’t express it, and then what happens with the feeling — where it goes and what I do with it.  I feel like I should start carrying a note pad around with me and jotting it down or something.

She also wants me to keep note of my dreams.  I haven’t had a dream I remembered in a long time, but I’m pretty sure the last dream I recall involved me having a long drawn out screaming fight with my mom.  My therapist’s eyes widened when I told her that — therapy pay dirt!! — but I told her that not only do I not recall the last fight I had with my mom, I don’t even remember the last time I felt angry with her.  (Mildly annoyed at her need to set me up with her students, yes.)  She explained to me that maybe the character of my mom wasn’t really my mom.  Okaaay…well, for now that is an unsolved mystery, I suppose.

In the meantime, I am off to the ominous task of feeling my feelings and – gasp! – expressing my feelings.  On the scary scale, that is pretty damn high up there.

But I know I’ll get there eventually….

One bite at a time.