Love on the Pretzel Train

/ jane in training / 6 Comments

Because I never really dated that much in the past, I was looking forward to finding out what it was going to be like. I joked about wanting to juggle men. I pictured myself being cool, casual, carefree. “Date like a man” my friend Neal told me. But I’ve started to notice that I’m looking for that connection, that recognition of oh, hello…yes…I feel what’s possible with you. Does that happen? Is that too much to ask? Maybe all those romantic, meet-cute comedies I used to watch have twisted my brain into an over-salted, unrealistic pretzel.

I’m not looking for the perfect, fantasy man. I know he doesn’t exist. At my high school reunion, one of my former classmates nodded knowingly when I shared that strange men tend to be attracted to me. “I hear ya,” She said. “But it only takes one.” He could be anywhere. Mae, is it true? Could he be with another woman right now? Take your hands off my future man, you hussy!!

I only want to discover the one who is perfect for me and I for them. It’s possible, right? Or am I on the Pretzel Train and every stop is SingleTown?

It’s also possible that I could drop dead tomorrow. Or the next day. I would be dead without ever having found love again. That pisses me off. But if I’m dead, I won’t know how to get upset – I won’t even know I’m dead, so I guess it’s a moot point.

Life doesn’t follow a straight line (like this post), so I have no idea what it has in store for me. Before I don’t know I’m dead, I would like to accomplish the following things this year and the next:

1) find a new job
2) move
3) travel to Italy and/or Spain
4) keep

— my mom just informed me that my face looks really round: “You look round here [cups her cheeks with her palms]. I wonder why…you exercise enough. Maybe I just don’t look at your face that often.”

1) move
2) exercise more
3) find a job that keeps me moving
4) travel
5) continue to date
6) continue being open to possibility
7) keep…keep what?? (I have no clue what I was about to write.) keep on truckin’? keep my head up, my spirits high and hope to love again before I die?

That train stop at my reunion must have done a number on me.  I thought I had chased away the dark clouds that my mom the inner critic brought in a few days ago, but some of them still linger.

Next stop?

Not sure. Think I need to catch that transfer out of CheekFat Town, so I’d better start running.

The Chihuahua Effect

/ jane in training / 8 Comments

I didn’t expect to get picked up during my double date last weekend.

And then he literally lifted me straight off the ground and pretended to abduct me into a windowless van.

This happens every so often – the lifting part, that is. Not a very dignified thing to happen at my age, unless you count the time I needed to be carried across a rushing river.  But that was based on survival.

The Librarian wasn’t the one who picked me up – it was the husband-portion of the double-date. He totally upstaged The Librarian with his enthusiastic, open personality. I’m friends with his wife, but this is only the second time I’ve met him – the first time being very brief. He hugged me after I joked about my personal space, he lifted me up, and in general, he seemed to like me a lot. My friend was nonplussed. My own biased opinion is that I believe other women find me completely non-threatening. You can totally trust me with your husband or boyfriend. Seriously. Hand him over.

Why do I sound so creepy? I might as well have a windowless van, too.

Before you think what you’re thinking, I have to explain that The Husband’s reaction towards me is what I call the “Chihuahua Effect”. I never had a term for it before, but it seems fitting since I seem to like referring to Chihuahuas. If for some reason you think they’re cute, and they do something you think is cute, as in: “Did you see the Chihuahua? She has an underbite!  Haha! That’s so cute – I gotta take a picture of her!”, then the Chihuahua Effect is taking place.

I don’t know why I can’t find a single man that I find attractive to react this way. I wouldn’t have to work so hard. I’d simply flash my underbite at him and I’d be golden.

Must Love Dogs?

/ jane in training / 4 Comments

I love dogs. But sometimes they hate me. Other times, they love me back. Some even want to hump me.

These were not my first waking thoughts this morning. Actually, I was thinking about men. Then for some reason, I starting going over my history with dogs:

The Barker
When I was young, my parents would take me to visit some family friends who had a barky, miniature Schnauzer. Oh, how I hated going to that house. I could hear that dog barking even as we got out of the car. And as soon as we entered the house, The Barker would single me out. I’d sit still as a statue on their sofa and that grandpa-faced dog would come up, look me in the eye and say, That’s right. This is my house…yes, I own this m*#!@#f$*!#$. Thinking about getting all crazy up in it? Oh? Do you think you’d like being dead, little girl?

I swear, that’s the word-for-word translation.

Devil Dog
One sunny day, I went out for a ride on my banana seat bike, wearing my brand new, glossy black, fake fur coat. Every seven year-old had one in the 70’s right? I pedaled out of our cul-de-sac, happy as a girl wearing a fancy fur coat can be. When I returned, Devil Dog appeared out of nowhere.

oh, shit.

I didn’t know that word at that age, but I’m sure I was thinking something close to it as soon as he started chasing after me. I pedaled for my life as he caught up to me and took a bite out of the back of my now not-so-brand-new, black, fake fur coat. Sensing victory, DD stopped his pursuit.

I experienced two things that day: sheer terror and my first heartbreak over fashion.

Schizo
When I first started dating my ex, his family had a toy fox terrier. Cute little dog, but you could never tell if it was in a good mood or if it was about to go loco on you until it was too late. Already see where this story is going?

The dog was secured by a leash in their front yard when I walked up to the house. When she saw me, she started running happily towards me. Awww…how adorable. Behind her, my ex appeared from the front door of the house, and I waved to him. The dog had a much longer lead line than I had anticipated and when she jumped up to greet me, she bit my calf.

Looking back, I think The Barker put out those two hits on me.

George
Last year, when I was still living in L.A., I discovered that my neighbor’s big, black Lab would howl and bark whenever his owner left the house. This would go on for hours in the middle of the night when the owner would leave for a fishing or hunting trip. I decided to go speak to him after he returned from one of these trips.

I explained the situation and the neighbor kindly apologized, unaware that his dog got into such a state during his absence. “Want to meet him?” Mr. Neighbor asked me. Sure, I said. I love dogs when they’re not howling or foaming at the mouth. He led an energetic George out to my driveway and I knew I didn’t want that dog jumping on me. He was huge. I am small.

George took off down the street and Mr. Neighbor ran after him. And then George came galloping back. Towards me.

oh, shit.

Before I could react properly, George jumped me from behind and wrapped his dog legs around me. I fell as I tried to pry him off of me, but his paws snapped back into place like furry bands of steel.

“Push him off!!” Mr. Neighbor shouted as he came running.

No…I want to be humped by your dog in the middle of my driveway. Of course I’m trying to push him off, you idiot!

Mr. Idiot Neighbor finally pulled him off of me. When I stood, I laughed the whole thing off and he had the nerve to suggest we have dinner together.

No, thanks. I don’t want to be humped by you, either.

Nikki the Wonder Dog
Nikki was the sweetest, most well-behaved dog I had ever and still, have ever met. The ex and I dogsat her for a whole summer while her owners were out of the country. She bonded with me. She would sleep on the floor by my side of the bed, follow me around the house, and whenever I came home, whether I was gone for five minutes or five hours, she would greet me with the extreme happiness that only dogs possess. She would never beg for food, and she wouldn’t steal anything off of your dinner plate even if you left it on the floor.

When the summer was over and we drove her back to her own house, we were on our way to meet friends for a road trip to Mexico. Nikki settled herself on top of all the gear we had packed into the little Nissan. Our timing was good – just as we pulled up, our friends arrived home from their long flight from Malaysia. At first confused, Nikki slowly remembered her true owners and then gave them one of her happy dog dances. When the ex and I said our goodbyes and headed to our car, Nikki followed me.

Heartbreak. I think I cried all the way to Mexico.

sigh.

I am now thinking about my next post about men. Since I’m kind of lazy, I might just borrow the opening from this one:

I love men. But sometimes they don’t love me. Other times, they love me back. Some even want to hump me.

It’s kind of scary how interchangeable it is, isn’t it?

And Your Mission is…

/ jane in training / 6 Comments

Every organization has a mission statement.

Why shouldn’t a couple have one, too?

I was emailing a friend the other night, and I told her I thought it would be a good idea for a couple to come up with a mission statement together. And since almost every idea has been done before, I’m sure there are situations where couples do this. If not, can I copyright this? Too late? You’re already stealing it? Damn you…I would come after you with my girl-machete, but I sense you aren’t threatened by me. I know. All bark, little bite.

As a couple, what do you stand for and how will you strive together into the future? This is what I will ask my future partner to send him screaming, running away from me. If he doesn’t run, well, then I know I’ve made the right choice. I know there are vows spoken during a ceremony and/or promises made, but a mission statement can be created together as a couple, as a united front, and be used as an anchor to toss over the side of the boat when the waters get choppy. Realistic? Idealistic? I like to think they are both, but you can decide for yourself.

And speaking of your self: I think it would benefit us as individuals to come up with our own statements – something to refer to and remember when life kicks us in the face or even worse, if we lose faith in ourselves. Who are you and what do you stand for, strive for? What do you say in commitment to your self?

I just felt something pop. This is a lot of thinking for me this early in the morning. I won’t have any brain juice left for work today.

Brain juice. Can I copyright this, too?

Lions and Tigers and Thighs, Oh My

/ jane in training / 7 Comments

Ever since I got back from Hawaii, my legs and I have seen the light. These burritos ‘o mine are now wearing running shorts. It’s somewhat liberating to make visible something I had intentionally kept invisible in the past. To let myself be seen. As is.

When I had it – at least I thought I had it at some point – I should have flaunted it. I took my young, firm skin for granted. But I was much more shy back then. Now? Yes, I’m still an introvert at heart, but I don’t look too bad for my age, so part of me wants to flaunt whatever it is I have left while gravity is still my friend. I have ab muscles. I don’t know where they came from, and they might look a little like a wrinkly four-pack of King’s Hawaiian rolls during the rising process, but they’re there. I believe that they’re a product of my intense overthinking. After all, something good should come of overworking my brain in circles. Problem is, I might look good for 48 – we Asians hold together well – but not so good for 38. Get my drift?

[I can’t believe I just outed my real age. Oh, what the hell. I will display my age proudly. I just won’t display photos of it here on my blog. I may be crazy, but I’m not insane. Yet.]

See, I live in a small, coastal town. It doesn’t get warm enough to wear shorts very often, so people don’t see a lot of skin around here. Hawaii? No problem. Young skin, aging skin – what does it matter? Everyone looks like bronzed demi-gods over there. But here? People pull on their t-shirts, light wash jeans, sneakers, and their Patagonia jackets to go out on the town. They might even wear that outfit to the beach.

The sun is out and it is unusually warm. I am tempted to go for a run wearing less clothing than I ever have before. I want to feel free to do this. If I didn’t have to wear my glasses, I would absolutely wear sunglasses. That way, I could feel anonymous. I might mistake a fire hydrant for a dog, but if it makes me more brave, I will trade clear vision for shades. I’m sure I’ll be able to determine whether or not that object coming towards me is a car, right? Maybe I need a sacrificial running buddy.

Suddenly, I’m not so concerned about my thighs anymore.