Two Wonderful Months

I did not eat lunch today. Instead I stayed at my desk at work, wrote Chris an email, and then just to steady myself, composed this blog entry. A few minutes ago I finally got the courage to both send the email, and then published this post to my goofy blog.

In the email I told Chris that despite my efforts, I have not heard from him in two weeks and I now consider our relationship to be over. As I have done in all of my emails to him, I told him that I am sorry for that dreadful thing I said on Valentine's Day. In today’s email I stated that I consider the loss of our relationship to be 100% my fault. I then said that until I am in another romantic relationship, I would welcome us getting back together.

Anyway, that’s what I wrote to him. I guess the proverbial door hasn’t closed on Chris; it’s more like in the process of closing. Much to my amazement, I did not cry as I wrote the email. I’m at work where I do not cry as readily over stuff, but as a couple of coworkers will attest, on occasion I have still cried. As I have said several times throughout this idiotic blog, I am a big crybaby. But I don’t know, maybe this time I’m all cried-out.

As I often do, I went outside last night into the darkness for a short time just to feel the icy darkness around me. There are railroad tracks several blocks away, and as I was out I heard a train’s horn and the rumble of freight cars on the tracks. For a minute or so the reverberation of the train grew louder. Then for another few minutes the sound slowly faded away. I thought to myself that the sound of the train disappearing into the distance symbolized the ending of the relationship Chris and I had. The notion came to me in a moment of silliness, but there was just too much truth in it for me to be amused.

I had two wonderful months with a great guy, two months that ended a couple of weeks ago. That is two months of joy, friendship, and intimacy that I treasured, and was lucky to experience. That’s how I’m planning to remember Chris, and our too short time together.  

Door Attacks Head

I am such a klutz. About six hours ago I was walking into work, and I pushed a button that opened an automatic, handicap door. I always push the button when I am going through this particular door because the right half of the double doors seems heavy, and the left side, the handicapped door half, is even heavier because of the mechanical equipment that opens it makes it harder to open than it normally would be. Of course the door weighs nothing once the button is pushed.

Anyway, I pushed the button and gave the door a few seconds to open. Then as I was about to pass through the door, I stopped to focus on my cellphone that was in my hand. I had just taken it off its charger but yet the battery icon said that it was almost empty. I was still staring down at the cellphone, and wondering why in the world it did not have a full charge, when I got smacked on the top of the head by the closing door.

For a few seconds I was seeing stars. When the sparks stopped speckling my eyesight, my first thought was that my head hurt like crazy. My second thought, a moment later, was; did anyone see my goofiness? And my third thought was; is my head bleeding? Well, no one saw my wacky stunt, fortunately. And a touch to the top of my head revealed no blood; which was good. But the top of my head definitely did hurt. The door closes very quickly and with pretty good force, which explains at least a little as to why I did not see it coming, and it explains completely why my head hurt so much.

My skull has so many weird little dents and bumps anyway that my fingers really could not feel a bump made from swelling, but there is definitely a place that is very tender. Tonight is one of my “shampoo nights”. It is going to be a very delicate shampooing. And combing my hair out afterwards is not going to be fun either.

I still do not know what’s up with my cellphone, but I do know not to stare at it while in the way of a closing door. That much I did figure out.   

Trying To Face A Sad Reality

For about two months I dated this guy named Chris. He was a very nice guy. I liked him a lot. In fact, I liked him an awful lot. I still do. On Valentine’s Day I got angry for the most idiotic reason and basically told Chris that he was stupid. By calling him stupid I proved two things; that I am a cruel bitch, and that it at least appears that I consider Chris to be dumb, which is the one thing he deplores. I wrote all about this in my last blog entry.

Since that horrible day I have tried to call Chris, and I have emailed him many times. Of course I have told him that I am very sorry and that I did not mean what I said. I’ve also asked him to meet me at specific places, and I have pleaded with him to just come over. I thought he might call this past Thursday because it had been a week since we had last seen each other, and I was a little bit optimistic that he wanted to give it a week to see how he felt about things. But of course he did not call. I would have gone over to his apartment days ago to see him face to face but I don’t know if it would do me any good, and besides, I’m a little too scared to confront him when he apparently doesn’t want to see me.  

I first met Chris through his father, Marty, who works at the car dealership where I work. I have spoken to him about Chris. I told Marty the ugly things I said to Chris. He said that his son is pretty sensitive about such things. Marty told me that Chris was always big for his age, and he was never good at school work. That made Chris a target for teasing and taunting almost all the way through school, and those old wounds have never completely healed. Chris told me that he was never a good student in school and that he did not like to be thought of as unintelligent, but he never told me that he had been taunted as a kid.

I actually understand why he would not want to see me. Given what I said to him, it is as though I equate him to stupidity, and to Chris, that is intolerable. I am just one more of those cruel, thoughtless kids; at least I appear that way to Chris. There is no undoing what I said.   

Chris’s father suggested I give his son another few days and if I did not hear anything, maybe it best if I move on. I do not want to give up hope, but perhaps I should face reality. 

I'm So Stupid

I almost called my mother to tell her what I am about to write, but I’m too ashamed to do that, so I must find relief in this blog. Hopefully I will soon be deleting this.  

About three hours ago my boyfriend, Chris, came over. Chris and I have been dating close to two months and today was our first Valentine’s Day together. I made us a heart-shaped pizza for dinner. Chris brought over gifts for me in a Valentine’s Day gift bag. While the pizza cooked, and with Chris sitting beside me on my sofa, I opened the bag and began sorting through the gifts. The bag contained a red, scented candle in a heart-shaped holder. There was a small, red teddy bear. Along the bottom of the bag were Hershey Kisses in red wrappers. And sticking up out of the bag was a beautiful red rose. There was a card attached to the outside of the bag, attached with a paper clip. I don’t remember what the card originally said, but Chris had written in it exactly this: I never felt complete until I met this incredable woman named Heather. That I do remember.

I thought everything was very lovely. I especially liked the card. Immediately afterwards I kissed Chris on the cheek and told him I adored everything. I then asked him where the envelope was for the card. I told him that I especially wanted to save the card, and I really should have it in an envelope. There had been no envelope, just a card attached to the bag. Chris sort of chuckled and said that he had put the bag together just before coming over, and it wasn’t until then that he realized that the envelope that he had gotten along with the card was too small. He had apparently picked up an envelope for a smaller card.

I told him that it really would have been nice to have the envelope. Chris just shrugged and said he was sorry. For some unknown reason I just kept looking at the card, as if it were some ordinary piece of colored paper. I then asked Chris, in a rather annoyed tone, how he could possible buy a card and get the wrong envelope. I think it was then that Chris’s smile left his face and he said in a rather firm manner that he was sorry, but I would survive just fine without the envelope. Of course I would not let it rest. Frustrated and in a hostile tone of voice, I mumbled, “It is just too bad that you would spend money on a card but not be able to get the right envelope to go with it.”

I think it was right then that Chris ripped up the card. He just snatched it out of my hand and as he tore it up, he said something like, “Now you don’t have to worry about the envelope.”

I was suddenly very angry. I shouted at Chris that it figured that he would not buy the right sized envelope; after all, he wasn’t even smart enough to spell “incredible” correctly.

Chris fell silent. He just stared at me for a few seconds, then got up off the sofa, grabbed his coat, and hurried out the door.

For a few minutes I remained angry. Then as I stared at the Valentine gifts Chris had given me, I began thinking through what had just taken place. I especially thought about the last words I had said. Chris has told me several times that he had never been good in school, and more than anything else, that bothered him. The cruel words I had muttered at him were said specifically because I knew they would hurt him. And it was all because he had accidentally picked up the wrong-sized envelope.

As I sit here alone on Valentine’s Day and cry over my awful bitchiness, I wonder if Chris is thinking that he has not only finally seen the real Heather, but he wants nothing to do with her. I am so stupid.

Older Guys and a Creepy Heather

I have a peculiarity that kind of creeps me out. I don’t think it does me any harm, but I still find it sort of disturbing. I’m really reluctant to say it, even in a blog that almost no one reads, but I might as well let it go somewhere and better here in this silly blog than to some person I actually know.

Okay, I find older guys pretty hot. There, I’ve said it. When I say “older guys” I’m talking about guys over 30 and under... well, I don’t know where the top end is. Maybe 50, maybe more. And when I say "hot", I mean "fantasize" hot. And yes, this weirdness really does kind of creep me out.

It’s not every older guy that I find hot, not by a longshot. I’m talking about nice-looking older guys who look like they work-out. And the guy has to be kind of soft-spoken and sophisticated. A polite, friendly Hugh Jackman would drive me crazy.  

Anyway, I’m not sure where this “old guy” goofiness began. I know I had a girlfriend when I was about 14 who had a hot father. I watched him come to the aid of an old woman in a parking lot who was being confronted by some guy who was livid after a minor car accident. Maybe that incident triggered something, I don’t know.

A few years ago I was in a 1 ½ year relationship with a guy who was 12 years older than me. I think he was old enough that I was getting some of that “older guy” feeling when I first met him, but not so old that I soon creeped myself out. In the end, he broke up with me because of our age differences. Heck, I think I wrote about him and our relationship in this moronic blog months ago.

Today a nice-looking older guy came into where I work, an auto dealership, and he was looking for one particular salesmen. The man was probably in his mid-40s. He was wearing a coat but I would have guessed that he was probably somewhat muscular or at least somewhat athletic. He wore glasses and had short, neat, dark hair with gray on the sides.

Anyway, the salesman was out in the car lot, and I asked the man if he could wait for a few minutes. He waited right there by my workstation. After about a minute of standing there silently, he jokingly asked me if I owned a car purchased from the dealership. I smile and told him I did; a used car. He grinned and said in this pleasant voice that I should consider myself lucky that I do not work in a bicycle store and riding a used bike. When he smiled, the little lines around his eyes and the edges of his mouth became more apparent, and more attractive. His voice tone was almost soothing to my ears.

A few minutes later the salesman came in, the man said a cheerful goodbye to me, and they walked away. But I’ll bet it took about another ten minutes for me, my brain, and a few of my vital signs to go back to normal. In the meantime, I analyzed two things; what I found attractive about the man, and how weird I am, both enclosed in the blog post.

Now several hours later, the man is probably vanished forever. Unfortunately my weirdness remains, undaunted.