eRamblings

For the last couple of weeks I have been putting off grocery shopping. I haven’t wanted to go at all. When I needed milk, I would just get that. Toilet paper? Check. Nope, don’t look around. No energy to shop. Honestly though, grocery shopping makes me feel like a complete and total loser - or realistically lonely. I go around the store saying I need one of those, one of these, one of that. Ugh. ONE! The last couple of times I shopped I actually bought two of everything because I kept getting these pathetic looks. Screw you meat guy - I am one, yes that’s right! I am alone. What’s it to you?! I know it shouldn’t bother me, but lately it has. All I see are couples in love and people having babies. Damn it, if I don’t want that too.

I went to my therapist yesterday. I spent the entire time crying. It felt so good. I had been waiting to cry for days. I had been thinking about all the sad thoughts I was having about my life and just couldn’t come up with one tear. The minute I walk into his office, it’s started pouring out of me. Poor guy. But hey, as he says it is job security. So yes, I am feeling very lonely lately. And for once, my family just isn’t able to fill that void. It is the loneliness of not having someone to cuddle up with, share my day with, vent and love on in the manner only a lover can.

After my therapy session I felt so refreshed, I drove straight to the grocery store as I haven’t been eating too well due to my sadness. I filled my cart with so much good food and it was healthy. I ran straight home and made a snack - cottage cheese and blueberries the size of grapes. Yum!

Here is what else I bought - salmon, potatoes, broccoli, beets (oh yeah, I figured out I like these), corn, frozen peas, lettuce, mandarin oranges, apples, pears, cottage cheese, vanilla flavored yogurt, a slab of beef, pinto beans and an onion.

A couple if weeks ago I saw a show on healthy eating and they listed the best foods to eat - beets, spinach, broccoli, walnuts, sunflower seeds, and some other stuff. I wrote most of it down on my list, which has been growing because I didn’t want to go. I figured I could make a few meals out of this and spice up my lunches too.

One meal - a crockpot of beans, onion slices and a big slab of beef. It will cook all day and be ready to eat by the time I get home.

One meal - salmon, potatoes and broccoli

Leftover night I would use the can of corn and whatever food I had left, probably the salmon. I would also have a few days of beans left over for burritos or just a bowl of beans and meat.

One meal or maybe a lunch or two - salad with mandarin oranges, peas, beets, cheese, broccoli and maybe some peas.

For lunch I would add apple slices and peanut butter (the best snack you can have according to that show), cottage cheese and some fruit (today I had the blueberries) as well as the yogurt with fruit.

I am thinking about taking some classes at the local community college this fall just to get out and see people other than those I work with. I have been dying to take a real oil painting class and I would love to take a class on macs or photography, but one of my girlfriends said that her photography class wasn’t so in depth as she thought it was, so maybe I will pass on that one.

I just feel so isolated sometimes. And whereas I used to be able to go to the local shopping mall and feel connected being around other people, now I just feel more alone because of all the families and lovers. Ugh! What is going on there?

My clock is ticking people. I am feeling the weight of becoming 30. I am ready to have kids or begin thinking on those lines, y’know? I am ready to settle down and start sharing my life with a man. And I know I shouldn’t be thinking this way, but sometimes it weighs on me. Especially lately.

I know all the sayings -

I should be happy with my life I have so many things and I am very lucky.

Love doesn’t come when you are looking.

Blah, bla, blah.

My emotions are not rational.

I will get over it. I always do, but for now I am just a bit sad and lonely.

Just another day in my life.

Anywho . . .

Yesterday seemed to be the day of sex talk at work. It started in the underwear section of the store. We have this incredibly stupid table that has underwear (supposedly) all folded neatly on it. Whoever thought of this, again, did not test its theory first. I bent down to begin refolding and folding and folding (and folding). The only guy among us boldly steps up to the table and begins folding the other side. A few minutes later I hear a muffled, “I don’t want to sound ignorant, but HOW do you women wear these?” as he holds up some G-strings.

We all laughed (one guy, four women) and I replied, “It is like you aren’t even wearing anything.” And then realized that the comment didn’t sound as impersonal as I thought it would.

Damn.

Much, much later in the evening, we were fixing the store after hours and our last aisle to straighten before leaving ended up being the feminine products aisle. Myself and three other guys.

Me: “Wow you guys have guts fixing an aisle with maxi pads and whatnot.”

Red: “This isn’t embarrassing. What’s embarrassing is when I am working over here and a lady asks me my what I think about this box of tampons.”

It was at that moment I figured out what we were doing. Or maybe I just lost it at that point. I had to use every ounce of will power to muffle a snicker (or three), but the moment one of the guys let out a chuckle, we all lost it.

We couldn’t help it.

One of the guys says, “Okay, I have to know what you are laughing at.”

He replies, “KY jelly”.

Immediately we all burst out laughing like little kids when someone says penis (or vagina).

He begins to read the label. And we just roll with laughter. (it was late okay and a very long day)

I said, “The only thing that could make this aisle funnier, would be a shot of liquor.”

Bob says, “I don’t know how good an idea that is - mixing alcohol, ky jelly, condoms, a girl and three guys.”

Our laughter echoed throughout the store.

This song makes me dance every single time I hear it, no matter where I am or what I am doing. I want to dance, sway, make love and live life to its fullest.

Weird.

But cool.

Great song!

I have decided that I am just totally cheap when it comes to - well most things. I just recently bought some work clothes on VictoriasSecret.com because a) I had a $10 off coupon that expires the end of this month and b) I had free shipping which I figure would save me around $20+.

When online shopping I go through and anything I see that I may like, I add to my cart, then when I am ready to checkout I go back through and take off anything I think is way too extravagant or I just plain changed my mind on. This way I don’t have to do that stupid search when I find something i really like, but I can’t bring myself to add it to my cart. This way I can think on it and not spend hours trying to find it again.

Anyway, I spent just over $100 and I got eight things - seven work shirts and a pair of pants. Pretty good for $100 bucks and they are sending me a $15 gift card for my next purchase (Zoiks!). But on the other side, why is it that I feel bad, even just a twinge of guilt, about buying myself clothes that I will wear everyday to work for the next year (at least if they last that long)?
I mean if I spend $50 on a shirt and then wear it once a week for a year. I would wear it about 50 times in that year which means it would cost me a little less than $1 each time I wear that shirt. To work. Because I can’t go naked. That is pretty good as far as cost goes. Instead I can’t bring myself to spend more than $20 on a top, realistically because I do a lot of comparison shopping and have the time to look. So I am actually wearing about .38¢ worth of a shirt each time (although less if I wear it more than once a week).

I went shopping three months ago and bought about the same (8 shirts). I have been wearing them pretty regularly five days a week (we wear a uniform of sorts). I got four of the shirts for less than $10, two for $15, one for $18 and one for $24. (Is it scary that I remember this?)They are still in pretty good shape, but it is starting to annoy me that I have to do wash every week (am I spoiled) and I would also like a little more variety. Or maybe I just want more. Because more is better, no?

Why is it so awful to buy ourselves things we want and spend a little more on them? Have we gotten to the point when we are going so minimalist that we can not even imagine enjoying life and the fruits of our labor? I can’t believe I have to rationalize buying myself some clothes for work. Something I should definitely bring up in my next therapy session. (snicker)

At my new job I am learning the ins and outs of coupon/ad shopping so I am learning to become even more of a cheap bastard shopper which in the long run can only be good because I am spending less, but still getting more for my buck. When I go out I have a pretty good idea of when restaurants I like are having happy hour or a deal on my fav meal. I go to the movies on Fri, Sat or Sun before noon because it is half the price. I don’t do the buy 5 for $20 because unless I eat/drink it on a daily basis I am only spending more because it won’t get eaten before it goes bad. I have taken my lunch to work all but two times in the last three months (this I am truly proud of) saving myself at least $8 a day. When I go out shopping I wait and group my shopping outings to include all places nearby where I really need to go and I save on time and gas.

Wanna know something funny? I buy my work clothes from Victoria’s Secret and I buy my underwear, bras and sleepwear from some where else. Now that is irony.

What is your cheap bastard trick of shopping? 

Perhaps the most difficult choices to make are the ones that deny us those things our heart wants most. Because as it’s been said without reason nor prudence the heart wants what the heart wants. And more often than not it will not be denied.

(via In Plain Sight)

The other night I came home from a bit of fun with a nice little alcohol buzz and a headache quickly zeroing in on my fun and relaxing evening. I was able to sleep really well, til the headache woke me up a little after 4am. I forced my tired and achy body out of bed to get aspirin and some water. I dragged myself back to bed, pulled the covers up, got all warm and cozy.

Sigh

Okay now I can go back to sleep.

Scratch Scrat-scratch

What the -?

Scratch Scrat-scrat-scratch

Oh crap! I know that sound.

“Izabel! Use your litter box! Please don’t pee on the carpet! Go! Go use your litter box!”

Scratch Scrat-scrat-scratch

I kick my feet in the air throwing back the covers and heft myself out of bed, again. Only to get up and see her running into the closet where her litter box rests.

What the -?

Did she really just use the litter box?

When I told her to?

When she had to go?

For the first time, ever, my cat actually did something I asked her to, when I asked her to. OMG!

I need to figure out how to bottle this little miracle.

I went out to dinner with a new guy friend of mine and we got on the subject of chivalry. I was telling him how at work no matter how old, young or what the guys always stop and hold open the doors for me. And people, there are a lot of doors at my work. They go so far as to look back and look ahead, stand there and wait for me holding the door open.

I wouldn’t call myself a feminist, more of a supporter of women power (I think all women should have good self esteem). I also fully believe in the equality of the sexes. I have no problem holding open a door for men (or women), but I don’t do it because of chivalry but rather because I think it is a nice thing to do. I have no problem picking up a check, but I prefer when we go back and forth on who pays. I pay once, then they do or I would rather just go dutch.

So my friend tells me that the guys at work are only holding the door open for me so they can check out my ass.

WHAT?

He was serious. I don’t know if I believe him, but now I am so conscience of it. Ack!

Then he goes on to tell me he considers himself a chivalrous guy. He always holds the door open for women, he walks them to their car, he picks up the check (but likes it when they do not expect it) AND HE DOES NOT KISS ON A FIRST DATE!!

WHAT?!?!?!?

I am by no means easy, but doesn’t everyone kiss on a first date? I think I have always kissed on a first date. I mean, if the date is going so incredibly well, wouldn’t the perfect ending be a magnificent kiss? He looks good, you feel confident, the food was scrumptious, the lighting low and romantic, there were comfortable pauses, everything he says is fun and interesting and then he offers (you argue) to pay the tab. You take a stroll outside brushing up against each other’s arms and hands, tickling a bit, laughing. You stop at your car and fiddle with you keys (Hitch was right on with that little tid bit) - do you kiss? Does he lean in and kiss you? Do you hug? Heaven forbid, you don’t shake hands. Come on! What happens now?

My friend gave no reason, but the fact that he just doesn’t kiss on a first date. I could not get my chin off the table. I was in such shock at this revelation. I don’t know that I have ever met anyone that has said this.
Don’t get me wrong, I love anticipation. I love wondering what it will be like. I like looking at a guy’s lips when you talk to him. I love when he leans in to brush back a piece of your hair and you think, will he kiss me? I mean all that stuff is just oh so yummy, but TELL ME PLEASE -

Do you kiss on a first date?

And, of course, I also want to know when do you sleep with a guy? When he tells you he loves you, third date, four months . . .

In my third year of college I got a wild hair to go to another country for the summer and practice my Spanish. All the summer trips were booked at my college so I started researching all the others.

That is the thing about wild hairs. They start out a simple thought. A quick idea. It sits in the back of my head and festers. Eventually blowing up and becoming an obsession. I get this from my mother. I can’t get rid of the thought until it becomes reality and I am knee deep in it. On rare occasions it dies before taking its first breath, but I am not good at giving up and moving on.

I found a college far off that had a trip to Costa Rica. I got my college to add it to my financial aid (a burden I am still paying for) and off I went for six weeks.

Walking out of the airport it felt like I was getting out of prison. The terminal floor was made of concrete. The people were completely scary and spoke so fast I had trouble understanding much more than a word or two. As I walked out people were stretching their arms through metal bars in the side concrete walls. They were all yelling. It was complete overload.

Thankfully my host mother came out of the crowd like an angel and rescued me. I remember getting in the front of her car and thinking I was safe only to pull out into the traffic and realize no one knew how to drive. Or maybe they knew how to drive better than I could imagine because there were potholes the size of craters in the road and not one line appeared in the street to designate lane order. I would see a crusty old car coming straight at us, black smoke billowing behind and a bus pulling off to the side of the road, still inhabiting most of the road and at the last second both cars would veer out of the way and miss each other by what seemed like inches. I missed a lot of the scenery simply because I was too afraid to look up.

Their home was in one of the nicer districts where the families all owned their own businesses right on the property. My family made and sold carpets. They had the factory in one of the buildings to the left of the house. It was huge and didn’t have all its walls. Just large cutouts to signify windows. Their carpet shop was very small, but quaint and nice. All of their immediate family lived in the tiny circle that wound around their property. Every Sunday they would all meet at the main house for dinner.

My room was way in the back of the house and looked directly into the warehouse of rolls of carpet. In the morning I would wake to sticky sheets heavy and drenched with the humidity in the air. Sometime early in the morning their maid would sneak into my room and open all the windows and shutters letting in the light and sounds of men working. I was lucky enough to have a regular alarm clock that came in the form of an incredibly beautiful peacock that (I swear) would make circles around my room squawking until I crawled out of bed. I was one of the lucky ones, I found out on my first day of class, my family actually had hot water. It was a luxury I had not realized until then. And no matter how many times I asked, the maid would not leave my clothes alone. I would hide them from her so I could wash them later, but she was smarter than me and every day I would come home from class with my clothes all folded neatly on the bed. I would tip toe out to the kitchen late at night to get a snack, pulling the fridge door every so slowly to prevent noises, but the moment the fridge would open the maid would be standing there asking me what I wanted to eat. I think I learned more Spanish from arguing with her than speaking with anyone else. The house was formed around a garden enclosed in glass windows that was covered by a metal roof. When it rained (and it rained hard) it would make a symphony of noises that echoed throughout the house.

Every day the entire city would close down for a brief period. All the children would come home from school, the workers from their jobs and they would all gather around and have a meal. I came to really enjoy this time. A lapse in the hustle and bustle of everyday life. The saying “work to live, not live to work” couldn’t have made more sense. At each meal we would have the same items on the plate - some type of meat, beans, rice, plantain and a tortilla. It was always served with some sort of juice. My favorite was star fruit juice, but it was expensive and only served at expensive restaurants. I could have lived on this food. It was the best I have ever tasted. Very little seasonings, but the taste was out of this world. Once I had a milk cake, literally the cake is brought to the table and then they pour a creamy milk on top of it. It melted in my mouth.

I would go to school during the late mornings and then have the rest of the day to myself. Each day I would arrive at school and sit in a desk while others filed in. The moment the teacher would come in he would say, “I need a beer” and we would follow him down to the local pub where we would sit and talk about how our homework related to the real world. He would pull out the newspaper and we would discuss the leaders, money, US vs other countries. We had the most incredible debates and I learned more in those couple of hours than I think I did in one entire semester at home.

The people were so full of life. The bars were always packed with colorful, loud gyrating bodies. Security guards were stationed at each entrance, but I think it was just a ploy because on more than one occasion on of us forgot our IDs. The first one to go in would discreetly pass their ID back and the last person (who forgot their ID) would use that one to get in. Not once did they notice it had been shown not seconds earlier. We would invariably walk into some party already started, making quick friends and even quicker orders of shots served with a single cigarette. One of my best memories of the bars was the night we went to the newest bar in town. The owner had devised a shot glass server out of a two by four. It had six or eight perfect circles cut out of it that would hold a shot glass in each and the lime resting in between. They would come out singing and saying wild things that I had trouble decipher. Always happy and in the mood to party. I am not a good dancer. Ask anyone. But in Costa Rica, I felt like a world winning dancer the men have such rhythm.

I could not get over all the museums, antique buildings, beaches as far as the eye could see, animals that hung by the road. I went flying through the forest on a zip line hundreds of feet above the ground then repelled down. I went surfing. I rode horses on the beach and in the forest, once even swimming horseback through a river. We dove off rocks into waterfalls after hiking up through underbrush. I sat in mystic hot rivers that soothed the body and cured illnesses that was only nine seconds away from an active volcano should it erupt. At night we saw the volcano’s lava leaping into the dark air, red and bursting while eating a lush dinner. I waded through the ocean crossing into an exotic animal habitat that went for acres. We sat on the beach and drank beer and basically talked til the sun went down. I trekked out late at night and spotted sea turtles leaving their eggs for their mate. The options were endless.

It was a world that I will never forget and one day would love to go back to. I don’t know if it was because I was so open to possibility at the time or because it truly was a remarkable place.

The last couple of days a couple of my friends told me they had decided to stay. They had found a place to rent and were going to work at the bagel shop next to the Universidad while finishing out their last year of school. It sounded like such a great idea, I called my parents and told them I had decided to stay too. They informed me that I was to get on the plane and come home as planned. They would have supported, but knowing I had run out of money days ago and they were kind enough to float me I chose to leave. The moment I stepped of the plane I was relieved to be home. I was so tired and couldn’t wait to sleep in my own bed.

I have been thinking constantly about the golden rule. I mean seriously, it is in my head every moment of the day lately. For two reasons, I have worked in retail for over 10 years, but with this new job I have realized that my people skills could use some jazzing up a bit (ergo: they aren’t quite as good as I thought they were). Reason two, I want to date/marry/be with (whatever) a guy that treats me so kindly that I feel like I am #1 in his book (and I could even live with #2 or #3). That dotes on me and loves me for who I am (PMS, farting, and all the other things I do) and doesn’t always joke or embarrass me when that happens. The type of guy who is willing to stand next to me while I vomit, holding back my hair and telling me that I am the most beautiful woman in his world.

And all I can think lately is, if I want people to treat me a certain way, I need to treat them that way, first. (okay that is my version of the golden rule)

I was speaking with one of my peeps (Germ) at work about passing down a job from my boss that she asked specifically that he do this. I, being the messenger, take this opportunity to be kind and funny and basically do everything I can not to sound like a boss, but more of a friend because it is not often I get to be the person not giving direction or instructions. Needless to say it wouldn’t have matter how or what I said, Germ didn’t like or want to do this job. It was grunt work no matter how you put it. When I could feel my plane going down with this guy, I saw another couple of people that work at the store, but in a different area and immediately changed the subject by greeting them and asking them how they were doing.

Germ looked at me in awe (no joke) and said, “How is it that you have been here half the time I have and you know more people than me?”

Me: “When I was training, I trained at a store that every single person came up to me (on their own) and not only introduced themselves, but told me what they do and if I needed anything to let them know. Each time I passed an employee in the store they stopped and said hello, asked me how I was doing. It was the most friendly atmosphere ever!! And I want our store to be like that too.”

Germ replied, “That is why you added say hello to every associate on our job description sheet?”

Me: “Yes. I think it is great moral builder when we greet each other and have an open and fun atmosphere. It may seem like such a stupid thing, but it makes me happy and I want to spread that happiness.”

Immediately he looked at me, smiled and began working.

Huh. Maybe, just maybe this works.

And again, there is this guy at work who is really a nice guy, but for some reason likes to joke with people around him. It is kind of like being in second grade again and the guy hits you instead of saying hello because that is how he relates to you. At first I gave it back. I used my sarcasm and punchiness to become friends with him, but one day I realized that I don’t want ANY relationships to be like that. Don’t get me wrong there is nothing wrong with sarcasm and dry humor, but I want my life to be filled with nice, considerate people who lift me up and make me feel good about myself. I started being extra nice to him and skipping the sarcasm. He doesn’t know what to think of me now, I can just tell. He is still nice and he still jokes with me, but it is on a much more innocent and friendly level.

There is another guy I work with (call him Red) on a daily basis, he is what I call my work husband because he has the same schedule as me, has the same job title, but on the other half of the store. I help him out and he helps me out. Our people come to each of us depending on what they need. It is almost to the point now where we don’t have to discuss our duties, we just do them knowing what the other needs and doesn’t need. What I noticed this past week is he constantly says things that make me feel better. We were working ad at 5am this weekend and my boss asked me to work on the area that sucks (seriously it is crapy and everyone knows it, so they leave it til last). I took a moment to complain only to realize after the words were out of my mouth that my finger was on the walkie and everyone in the store heard my mumblings. Woops! I told her I would take care of it, no problem. When she checked in with me later, she asked how I was doing, I took the opportunity to apologize for my whiny-ness. Red came back on the walkie and said, Hey we ALL get whiny at some point. Such support, I wanted to cry. He always says things like, just do the best you can and you will do fine. I just totally appreciate how kind he is.

Ack, most of the people I work with are that supportive. How refreshing.

I can think of numerous times the golden rule has made a relationship at work a slight bit better. But the last two days I have been thinking about my personal relationships with men and how I usually date men who are nice, but not really really nice. Now this sounds bad and I don’t mean it that way. But nice as in the guy would do absolutely anything for you, not just say they will, but will literally stop watching tv, get up and help me without the slightest hesitation. Or I wake up in the middle of the night and realize there is no milk and without argument he says he will pick it up first thing in the morning whether to shut me up or because he knows that milk will make me happy because I get coffee and cereal. Or I call to say I on the way home and he hears my tired and sad voice, but when I get home he has started making dinner to help me out. That kind of nice guy.

Have you seen Tori and Dean Home Sweet Hollywood? That kind of nice guy. No matter how cranky, stressed out, anal or control freak she is (and sometimes she so is) he is kind and patient with her. On the other hand, she treats him with such kindness as well. And you’ll notice he hasn’t given up his manhood and she doesn’t wear the pants in the family. They are just so sweet to each other.

This sounds so odd, but the kind of guy my dad is. He will drop whatever he is doing (98% of the time) and come over to my apartment to put up curtains, shelves - you name it. He has comforted me (way back when) when my electricity went out in my apartment and it was pitch dark at 2am (god only knows why I was up and awake at 2am). He has driven over 45 minutes, bought me groceries and made me soup when I was in college sick with the flu.

I don’t usually date these kinds of guys. I have always thought with my strong personality that I needed a strong guy, but in reality nice guys are strong too, just in a different way. Maybe if I dated a different guy (whenever I decide I am ready to date) there might be a different outcome. That thought has been on my mind for the last couple of days. I have been really watching guys and how they interact with the women around them.

Or maybe I just haven’t brought out that kind of guy because I am so sarcastic most of the time. I push back like that guy at my work; like the second grader who punches shoulders instead of hugging. Maybe I promote feistiness. Hence my project on the golden rule.

A couple of my friends tell me often that people do not change. But I tell them, I did. And their constant reply is, you wanted to.

Can I bring out the kindness and softness in other people simply by being kind and soft to them?

Can I get someone to go above and beyond their normal kindness and do more than usual simply by doing so myself?

I am in the process of developing as many friendships in my life as I possibly can. I would love to have a plethora of different types of friends and the things we do together. I have been hanging with different friends from work - guys and gals. And I love that I am building up friends. I don’t feel like I have ever really had that many great friendships.

There is this one guy that I know for a fact is interested in me more than friends. I have been very straight forward with him that I am figuring out my marriage and am not available. Plus I am not interested in him (I will just leave it at that). He keeps asking me out for dinner and I have done a good job so far of telling him I am unavailable. We have gone out with other people from work to dinner, but never alone. Should I go out with him as friends or keep the low profile at work? I am a little uncomfortable knowing that he does have feelings for me and I don’t want to encourage that.

And while I am on the subject, the classic When Harry Met Sally question arises -

Can men and women be friends? Or does the sex get in the way?

I feel like I should take a poll or something.

The thing I like about my guy friends is they don’t have all the emotional baggage that women do. You can hang out and not pour your heart out. You can just hang out. Although I do find that with certain guys there is that awkward silence that I don’t have with women. Usually that friendship doesn’t last too long though. And at the same time, that is what I love about women. We can bitch about anything and they totally understand the emotional side of it all. I enjoy having both guys and girl friends in my life because I can cover all the different conversations.

That is what I thought I would talk about with my husband (before I ever got married). I thought I would have that with regards to both sides. Unfortunately my husband doesn’t really talk that much at all, about emotions or general topics. He has to be in that mood and as we have fought a lot, I am sure he just stopped feeling comfortable about opening up to me.

My husband has said all along he doesn’t think this is possible (especially when you have had a relationship with the other sex) to be friends with the opposite sex.

I disagree. I see nothing wrong with having friends who are men as long as you know the difference between friends and friends with benefits (ergo: crossing the line).

I have a guy friend who I have known for over 18 years - the longest friend (guy or girl) I have ever had since we moved a lot when I was growing up. He is like a brother to me.

To be completely honest we were what you would call “first loves”. We dated for over 2 years in jr. high and high school. It was very innocent (ergo: no sex) and a very long time ago. When I talk to him I still picture the jr. high boy. Y’know? It was like a person I knew in another life. A life that is over as is any feelings I may have had for him. We have kept up the friendship talking every few months. My husband once said he didn’t like that I was friends with him. I find it sad that I would end that because a new man (granted it was my husband) walked into my life. We talk about all sorts of stuff and nothing at all. It is funny when I stop and think about how I feel about my guy friend because I just don’t think of him that way; romantically.

I know that when my marriage was really bad and I needed someone to talk to he was there for me (as was my girl friends and my family, I leaned on them all). He had been through a divorce and helped me get the guys perspective that my husband wouldn’t/couldn’t give me. It helped. I stopped the relationship for a period of time because I could feel myself telling him things I wanted to talk to only with my husband even though my husband didn’t want to talk to me about those things. I did not cross the line (not even close), but I knew I wanted to be sharing these thoughts and feelings with my husband, not my friend (guy or girl). About the same time I stopped talking to my girlfriends about the whole thing too. It was just too much information.

I have asked myself many times how I would feel if my husband had a girl friend he had dated way back when and kept up the friendship. Honestly, I love my husband and I trust him. Whether or not I trusted that woman, I wouldn’t feel right telling him to end it because I was now his wife. I wouldn’t do that. I would go out and meet that woman and get to know her, but most of the time I would probably just let him have his friendship.

On the other hand, I am a stepmom, so though my husband and his exwife are no longer together she will always be in my life (unless we get a divorce, that is). I have to speak to her and see her on a constant basis. I have to share my two favorite men with her. I have no bargaining rights, no opinion and I have to just take what I get. It is a really hard relationship. I choose to be friends with her whether we agree on things or not because I feel it is very important to my stepson’s life to remain civil.

On the side of cheating. I can honestly say I would never do that. I know that you can get swept away in the moment, but at the same time there is always AT LEAST one moment where you decide to stop or continue. And I could never do that to the person I was in a relationship with. I respect that bond, the vows too much to shit on them. I can’t imagine hurting someone like that. I would rather face the truth and tell that person my feelings had changed. Not to mention I am not a big fan of the “getting caught” thing some people like.

Now that I am working at a job where it is 50/50 guys and gals, I find this subject interesting. Many of the people are married and many single. Many of the people married actually met their mate at this particular job. Which I find funny. I would never want to date anyone I worked with. Can you imagine having to see them day in and day out if something went a rye? God knows how often couples disagree. And can you imagine the gossip that would go on? I definitely have that personality that when I am at work, I am at work.

The point being that a group of us will get together to go out. It is mixed with both guys and girls, but is it weird or too personal to go out to dinner with just a guy? Is that a date? Or it is just dinner between friends? I am leaning to the side of keeping the group a group. What do you think?