Where Does Love Go Wrong?

In my business we handle a lot of asset division for individuals going through a divorce. I’ve reviewed separation agreements and divorce papers. Every time we do a divorce it breaks my heart. I often get bits and pieces of the divorce proceedings. I have yet to see a divorce without one party taking vindictive actions.

They once had a first date and a first kiss. Their hearts once pitter-pattered upon finally using the ‘L’ word. They wondered who would say it first and whether or not the other would say it back.

At one point, the man (being traditional here) planned his proposal. At one point, he got down on one knee and said he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. She probably cried and squealed yes. She thought about whom she would call first to tell the good news.

She’d probably been wondering when and how he was going to propose. When he did, she probably said “wow” when she looked at herself in her wedding dress.

And then on the wedding day, in front of family and friends, they both said they loved one another above all the rest. They said they wanted to be together until death do them part. They looked into each other’s eyes and kissed as husband and wife.

Where did it go wrong?

Where did love bend to hate?

Did either in the back of his or her mind think it might not last? Did either of them simply marry because he or she was afraid to be alone? Are people just marrying for all the wrong reasons?

Hm.

We always forget why we loved the person in the first place.

I love this quote from When Harry Met Sally. His friend and Sally’s friend have just been married and are moving in together. Something one of them says sets Harry off…

Harry: Right now everything is great, everyone is happy, everyone is in love and that's wonderful. But you gotta know that sooner or later you're gonna be screaming at each other about who's gonna get this dish. This eight dollar dish will cost you a thousand dollars in phone calls to the legal firm of That's Mine, This Is Yours.
Marie: Harry.
Harry: Please, Jess, Marie. Do me a favor, for your own good, put your name in your books right now before they get mixed up and you won't know whose is whose. Because someday, believe it or not, you'll go 15 rounds over who's gonna get this coffee table. This stupid, wagon wheel, Roy Rogers, garage sale coffee table.
Jess: I thought you liked it?
Harry: I was being nice!

It’s true. This is what I see.

I feel for anyone who’s gone through a divorce. It seems to be one of the harder things a person goes through in his or her life.

I so want forever. I so want ‘til death do us part.

Sheesh, I really have cheesey-ass tendencies. Oh ‘vell.


Another Reason Miss Curious Is Plain Strange:

I realized the other day that since I have an overly-active, I memorize things. I hadn’t really thought about why I do it until recently. Without any serious activity in my life as of late, I keep my mind occupied by memorizing.

My latest, which isn’t exactly memorizing, has been to learn how to say the alphabet backwards just as quickly as I can say it starting with A. I’ve gotten pretty good.

A few months ago, I memorized Seas.

I tried to memorize Bays, but for some reason that never took.

My next task is to memorize the order of presidents and the years in which they presided.

The Little House That Could

Since I was home in So Cal for the holidays, I thought I'd take some quick pix of our home that fortunately didn't burn down. The fires got very-very close, and we'd almost given up on our house. But, it now still stands.

Thee front door.

The hallway where I practiced my leaps and kick combinations for dance class. It's all still there!

Our home is surrounded by trees making it huge fire hazard, eeks!

The staircase I yell up when I get home late at night, so my mom is appeased.

For Thanksgiving, I went home, but my parents went to Massachusetts to visit the rest of the family. I had the house all to myself. One of my sister's came over, and we celebrated Thanksgiving together. People didn't seem to understand that spending the holiday sans-family (well, most of it) was okay. Although, I'm very much a people person and seemingly want constant stimulation, I appreciate my alone time immensely. And so, my trip was a beautiful one... a relaxing get away from the chill and fog of San Francisco.

BOYS:

Being away from the city and any sort of social life, I'm always able to clear my head... especially of boys. But then, really, there are no boys in my life who I need to clear my head of. It's funny how I can be in this spot where I feel all strong and shit because I have control over my emotions... where I'm not waiting by the phone and always trying to guess what the other person is thinking. When I'm in this mindset, it's hard to imagine that I ever sweated any of that shit. It's hard to imagine that there was ever a time a boy had enough control over my heart to make me want to cry. It's this place - this single Miss Curious place in which I feel the most comfortable. Hm.

However, my psycho-self suddenly popped back up when I got back to SF with a catalogue waiting for me. In that catalogue, I found this set of rings. I decided I wanted them to be my wedding rings. At the age of 22, I read an article on the diamond trade at which point I vowed never to buy a diamond or accept one unless it's my grandma's. (DISCLAIMER: Please don't think I'm judging should you purchase one. This is a personal choice, and I imagine you never read that article, haha. I do a lot of things, like own a leather purse, that I'm sure people can't stand, so who am I to judge anyone else.)

So, as I've mentioned before, us women are crazy and have our whole weddings planned out and shit. Of course, I have ZERO prospects, but this ring just made me think about maybe one day having someone give these to me with some promise of forever. How cheesey can I possibly be? Crazy talk!!! Now that I'm writing this and even posting this frickin' picture, I can't believe how ridiculous I am. Picking out a wedding ring!?!? Seriously Miss Curious. Sheesh. Don't mind me. I just like these rings. :-)

Motley Monday

The Personality Trait I Dislike Most:

Entitlement

Observation:

I often see men and women walking with the woman being highly animated and talking and talking, and the man simply nodding his head as though he were listening. Rarely do I see this situation in reverse.

Current Irritation:

Frivolous law suits. When did people stop being responsible for their actions?

Mood:

Distant

Thanksgiving:

Parents going to Massachusetts, me going to their home in So Cal and enjoying a big house all to myself. I can’t wait to be out of the city, soaking in the spa under stars I can actually see with my iPod playing on the outdoor speakers.

Thankful For:

My family. Health. Having a job. Friends (bosses and co-workers included). Food. Shelter. Music. My hair not falling out while frying it. Romantic comedies. Fairytales. Wash n’ Fold. Lime Popsicles. Fred Astaire. Converse. My sheets. My bed. Warm evenings. Daydreams. Concert T-Shirts. Online shopping. Lyrics.

Boys:

None. Not missing Bam today... much. Still can't tell if it's him or just someone. Left with my daydreams. Wondering if I'll ever have a love story to tell. A love story with a happy ending. I watched about five thousand romantic comedies, so I'm pretty much loving love right now. Well, the idea of it anyway. I must remember that not all relationships for me will end. It is possible to have one that lasts forever, and I need to realize that it's okay to be so lucky. You see, I have a hard time justifying a happy relationship when I already have been so lucky in my life. How is it possible to have that too? How is it fair to have that when there's so much suffering in the world? People dream of having food and shelter, and I'm dreaming about silly boys? Aye-Aye-Aye... must reconcile or I will never allow myself to be happy in love.

Loving These Lyrics:

Somebody
Depeche Mode

I want somebody to share
Share the rest of my life
Share my innermost thoughts
Know my intimate details
Someone who'll stand by my side
And give me support
And in return
She'll get my support
She will listen to me
When I want to speak
About the world we live in
And life in general
Though my views may be wrong
They may even be perverted
She will hear me out
And won't easily be converted
To my way of thinkingIn fact she'll often disagree
But at the end of it all

She will understand me I want somebody who cares
For me passionately
With every thought and with every breath
Someone who'll help me see things
In a different light
All the things I detest
I will almost likeI don't want to be tied
To anyone's strings
I'm carefully trying to steer clear
Of those things
But when I'm asleep
I want somebody
Who will put their arms around me
And kiss me tenderly
Though things like this
Make me sick
In a case like this
I'll get away with it

Touching Texts

Do guys text each other? For some reason, I don’t see texting as a guy thing. I can understand texting updates on games / scores, etc, but as a form of communication, I don’t see it.

When I see a guy texting on a bus or at a bar or wherever, I automatically assume he’s texting a chick. Chick’s are into texting. I love seeing a guy grin when he reads a text. The chick who’s texting him is on one end, and there I am, staring at some strange dude on the bus, who’s receiving her text. I get to see his reaction. I get to see him light up at the sight of her words. I also get to see him text back and then continuously check to see if she’s texted back yet.

On another note, I always have a hard time grasping that a guy is thinking about me when I’m not there. It’s a strange concept to be in someone’s thoughts. When a guy I haven’t spoken to in a while calls or emails me, I wonder what it was that made him think about me. I wonder how the conversation went in his head where he felt compelled to take action and call me.

I know I said I was going to write him off my blog, but today, I’m thinking about him. About Bam. I dramatically ended my friendship with him. Did I mention that? This one evening we set up a phone date because I had some questions for him. He didn’t pick up the phone and didn’t call me back.

I knew the next morning I was going to get an email with him apologizing for not being around and why he wasn’t around. That’s what he always does. And there, in my inbox was that email. I realized that our “friendship” was based on his time and his terms. He could always reach me, but I could never reach him. Doesn’t Mr. Big say that in Sex and the City? I don’t have caller ID at work, so he’d get me at work. Grr!!! I desperately wanted him to call me just so I could look at the phone and NOT pick-up. How ridiculous is that? I then wanted to be the person the next morning who apologized for not being around and giving him some lame-ass excuse like, “I was shaving my legs and couldn’t get to the phone. After that, it took me a really long time to lotion them up, and I was exhausted, so I hit the sack.”

‘Cuz really, that’s the bullshit he’d feed me.

I then sent him this vitriolic email with no punctuation because I was ranting and not breathing. I ended it with saying, “I’m over this.”

His rebuttal was in a pleasant pissed tone to which I simply replied, “whatever Bam.”

Needless to say, things didn’t end well. A few days later he emailed me about my parents in SoCal to make sure they were okay. It was sweet, and I thanked him.

But whatever, our friendship is totally over and over in a completely immature way thanks to me.

Today, however, I miss him. Today, I wish he were thinking about me. I wish that he didn’t have enough will power to stop him from emailing or calling or texting me.

If a friend were in my shoes, wishing her dude would call, the advice I’d give her was to move on… that the only reason she still thinks about him is that there’s no one else. If she had another prospect, she wouldn’t think twice about him.

So I wonder, is it because there isn’t anyone else that I still think about him? How can one tell?

The other day I went through some of my archives, and I re-read a post about the first night he slept over. I commented on the fact that he kissed my shoulder when he thought I was asleep. Then I started thinking about things he’d say… things he’d text… people who know me can probably hear this tone when I say, “who says that?” In a very good way. No one’s ever said some of the amazing – okay here’s a cheesy word, but it fits – “touching.” The things he’d say were “touching.”

Sheesh. Why am I thinking about him today? Why? What made me think of him?

Oh wait. Texting. He used to send me the cutest texts that I’d read over and over. I liked picturing the look on his face as he was writing them. I hoped he was smiling.

My Happy Space

For some reason, I have an awful feeling that someone I really-really don't want to have found my blog, may have found it. Did you?

Perhaps those ladies who went private had a really good idea... but then, the damage has been done. I will reconsider going private the next time I date someone, which will be tomorrow, right? Hahaha! My grandma doesn't want me to call her back until I have a husband. Part of her is serious. Eeks!


I understand that I'm becoming more and more of a financial burden to my bosses, and the job prospects are grim. There's nothing out there that to which I'd even want to apply. It sucks ass. I don't want to just get a job to have a job. I want to make a commitment somewhere. I want a job that has a upward mobility. I've been looking in my field, but on a grander scale and one that doesn't depend on what Bernanke has to say. Grrr!

There once again is the prospect of me putting my shit in storage here and hanging out with my folks down south and working some part-time / temp job while still looking up here (San Francisco). I really can't afford to live in this city if I'm not making what I make now. If I were to kick it with the 'rents for a few months, I'd be rent free... I wouldn't have to pay for food, and I'd NEVER go out. But 29 and living with my parents? Oh well. Who cares. If that's what I want or need to do for a minute, then so be it.

But still... No one told us it'd be this hard, and I have it easy. If that makes sense.

Of course I love stressing myself out about what hasn't happened yet. It's just something to do. Be negative. Stress. Good times. Haha!

Since I have lost sleep over these thoughts, I decided to create a happy space... really. You know, like Adam Sandler did in Happy Gillmore, so he'd be a better putter. Except mine doesn't involve women in lingerie, a bicycle, and a midget.

I see myself on a small boat, gondola'ish, but not quite... I have music playing, some Nina Simone or Fred Astaire... I'm shaded... I'm floating down some pretend river lined with green trees... it's completely isolated... I now close my eyes and can almost feel the light rocking of the boat... ahhh, happy places really do help. They really do.

Well, random post. Oh well.

A Very Judgmental Miss Curious

PEDESTRIANS:


I don’t have a car, so I’m solely a pedestrian these days. You’d think that I’d be all about pedestrians owning the streets and shit, but really, there are some serious jerk-off pedestrians that should just get hit by a car. Okay, that’s mean, but you get the point.

Almost everyone who’s ever driven in traffic has been caught blocking the intersection and pissing off whole lotta’ people. As soon as that walk sign turns, the pedestrians don’t give a shit that there’s a car blocking the intersection. If the driver could just slip by in one minute, it’d save a lot of headache. I mean, c’mon, sometimes the light’s still green, and one thinks he or she is safe to cross. It was an accident. We’ve all done it. But those pedestrians are like “sorry, we know we could easily/quickly let you slip by, but we’re gonna’ walk in front of your car and take our sweet-ass time, so you remain there in the intersection.”

Anyway, that pisses me off. Just let them go.

I also hate when there’s someone who’s trying to make a turn, and the pedestrian makes it her prerogative to talk on her cell phone and walk slower than my grandma. Most pedestrians have the attitude that since the walk sign is on a car’s just gonna’ have to wait its turn, which is fine, sure, I get it. But then, when is that turning-car’s turn? It’s walk on green, and it’s walk on red.

While yes, it’s the pedestrians turn, they can have some respect and walk a little faster, so our traffic / pedestrian flow can be harmonious and not sanctimonious.

Also, pedestrians hate when a car has pulled out to get a good view of the traffic he or she will be entering. The pedestrian gets all pissed that his cross-walk is blocked. Yes, I understand. It is annoying at times, but often, a pedestrian can easily walk around it, behind it typically. I think it's important for us pedestrians to understand that a driver's vision can be severely impaired, and the driver may not be able to see other cars coming unless he pulls forward a bit.

Of course, some cars are complete assholes, but us pedestrians have the same tendencies as well. I’m just saying that we all need to work together.


GREEN FESTIVAL:

Yesterday, I went to the Green Festival here in San Francisco. I have a friend who urged me to go, and I was open to it. It’s nice to see people who take such an active interest in something. An interest that comes from a good place.

At first I wasn't sure how to get there when I got off the bus, but then, I saw a hippy and followed her. Haha!

Here I go being a stereotypical bitch, but sometimes Green People and hippies aren’t very Nice People. The thing is, some (some, not all of course) preach about being open-minded and loving and peaceful, but they’re only that way to people who think exactly like them.

Everyone’s different. We need to appreciate our differences. We need to understand that people are they way they are for one reason or another. Not everyone’s been raised in a situation where hippy-dom and going Green can be a top priority. Maybe some people get their self-esteem from maintaining a beautiful, brand-name wearing yuppie appearance. We can’t always make assumptions about people and presume we’re somehow better than others. We just don’t know.

I mean, I don’t quite fit your hippy or yuppie and not quite some indie or rocker chick… I’m in between. But how many Green Peeps would give up a year or two of their life and volunteer in the Peace Corps? I’m not saying it makes me a better person, I’m saying that you wouldn’t guess that I’d have done it. I don’t think you’d guess I was in a sorority either.

There are so many judgments made, and I often think, Green Hippy People make A LOT despite what they preach.

It’s funny because I put a lot of thought into what I was going to wear yesterday. I didn’t want to wear too much black. I almost put on this shirt that had a reference to the army given to me by a Green Beret. Although I don’t support war in the slightest, that Green Beret believed in what he was doing. He believed our administration was good. He really was a good guy, and who knows what kind of family in which he was raised. If you’re told your entire life that America’s honest and the best and this and that coupled without the capacity for greater thinking, one could continue on that path. Can I blame him? Nope.

I ended up putting on a shirt that was light in color and had the word River on it.

Anyway, I’m being judgmental here myself, but I’m simply trying to make a point.


MY NEW HAIR:


I get bored pretty easily, and every once in a while I like to fuck with my hair. This weekend I decided to go LIGHT, with highLIGHTS. My hair is naturally some shade of brown.

BEFORE: (please note, sizing pics messes shit up, oops!)





AFTER:




2 YEARS AGO:

Oops, Did I Do That?

2 Bartenders in 1 night. And, completely unintentional.

Let’s start at the beginning. I started looking for jobs. Not too actively, but I sent out like 3 resumes and interviewed with one. I had 3 interviews with their company and over 6 hours of getting grilled AND a test.

Tuesday afternoon, I found out I was first runner-up. Whatever!!!

Anyway, this was the first job in 5 years I would have taken. I’d interviewed 3 times while I’ve been at my current job, but declined all 3. Now, of course, this one I SUPER wanted and didn't get. I then felt as though I’d been broken up with.

Tall K and I stopped our weekly drinking session with the end of the summer, but having that bummed feeling in the pit of my stomach, I needed some solace. Poor Tall K gets my non-stop jabber-jaw.

I had an appointment after work. It ended earlier than expected, so I had tons of time before meeting Tall K. I decided to walk across town. On my route was my old favorite bar, Cheers, home of the infamous, Obsession.

I hadn’t seen him in a few months. I wasn’t eager to see him after my romantic vision of him was shot to hell when he cheated on his GF with me (again, initially unbeknownst to me). I had to go to the bathroom, so I thought I’d stop by, use the bathroom, and say a quick hello.

He greets me. We chat for a minute. He asks for my phone number. Are you fucking kidding me? He’s asked for my number like a hundred times. Apparently he lost his phone. In a light-hearted voice, or maybe a little annoyed tone, I said, “why do you need my number?”

He quips, “never mind,” and walks away.

“Obsession, you’re kidding, right? You have to know I was only messing with you? I’ll give it to you.”

“No, it’s okay."

“Wow, I didn’t think you’d react like that.” Um, acting like a child! “Ok. So, anyway.”

We proceeded to talk for a little while. He told me how he and his girlfriend were about to break-up. In my head: oh right, I heard that statement after we hooked up 6 months ago. If my eyes weren’t looking at him, they’d be hardcore rolling!

“All right. I gotta’ go” I tell him.

“Don’t be a stranger.”

This story doesn’t end here. You’ll get the rest later in this post. This is all chronological order.
I continue my walk across town listening to some inspirational tunes, so I didn’t feel like such a loser for not getting the job. And also, for being so hard on myself because I did get far in the process. And, I’ve had much success in the past, so whatever.

I reach Tall K’s house. He comments, “did you see who’s working at the bar?” Tall K lives next door to iBartender's I-quit-there-I-work-there-again bar, so I could feasibly see in the bar, but I didn’t care to or think to. “iBartender.”

“Oh. I haven’t seen him in ages,” I nonchalantly reply. A tone I actually mean.

“Yeah, he hardly works there anymore."

We get to the bar with our whole two steps.

iBartender was looking his cute-self with an adorable little hipster t-shirt. He’d luckily put on a pound or two and no longer looked like a junky. We said huge hellos and I’ve missed you’s. We're both those over-exaggerated personalities. They now have a juke-box, so no more Miss Curious iPod on the bar speakers. As I stood there selecting my songs, iBartender came up behind me, wrapped his arms around me, and proceeded to kiss my cheek a hundred times. His whiskers tickled, sweetly. I stood still.

For the rest of the night, he told me about all his life problems and gave plenty of hugs and compliments on my song selections.

Unlike ages before, I left there knowing his game. I finally fucking got it. And I realized just how much younger than me he was. 3 years in actual numbers, but years and years as to where we are. It was so strange to me that I’d been as interested in him as I once was. I still think he’s rad because we have a strong music connection, but that’s as far as it goes. End of story.

Well, not end of this blog story.

I hadn’t eaten dinner. It was 9:30 pm. I’ve only been drinking once a week, and my tolerance isn’t high. Needless to say those couple o’ beers did me in. Was I just saying above that I’m more mature than a 26 year old boy? Maybe not.

I decided I had to drunk dial Obsession. I was annoyed with how childish he’d been earlier. I thought I’d laughed it off when I walked away. But for some reason, I needed to call him.

An old dude in my life, Kansas, has the same name as Obsession. I accidentally called him. When I realized it, I quickly hung up and tried to dial Obsession (key word: tried). Oh wait, oops… who’d I call again?!?! Kansas. Hung up again. Oh my god.

3rd Try. Got Obsession's voicemail, as expected. I just told him, “here’s my number loser.” Okay, I didn’t use loser, but I commented on his overreaction.

Why the hell did I do that? I never cease to amaze myself with what a complete ASS I can be. But, when life’s boring, I gotta’ stir shit up. Guess I'm one of those personalities, and unfortunately conscious of it.

Then, oh, next morning I got an email from Kansas saying that he saw I’d called. He’s going out of town today, but wants to get together when he returns. I didn’t mention that I accidentally called him. His email was so sweet with those "great hearing from you... oh my god, how are you... this is what I've been up to, etc." So sure, it’d be fun to see him if he does call upon his return.

There you have it. No ground breaking moments (?), but interesting encounters with my two ex-favorite-bartenders where things got messy! Well, it is kinda' ground-breaking in the fact that I don't quite understand why they seemed so "great" at one point. Weird.

The Hook-Up List

Last night as I was searching for my To Do In Life list, I stumbled upon my Hook-up list. Apparently, in December of 2004, I thought it'd be a great idea to write down all the guys I've made out with from simply a kiss to "going all the way."

This list even had a key for the symbols next to each guy. A heart meant that I actually liked him. A star meant we had sex. And so on.

I've bumped into that list on a couple of occasions, but I had a different feeling about it this time. A strange feeling. I almost wished that there hadn't been so many.

Now I feel like there is an intensely strong level of intimacy with sex and even... kissing. I know I still fuck around here and there, but it gets emptier and emptier.

I wondered how I could have pressed my lips against so many others. How our tongues could have touched. How I could have removed all my clothing and had men lie on top of me. How I could have kissed their necks as I tried to arouse them. How I could have put their cocks in my mouth.

I almost wished I'd only done that with the men I loved... all two of them.

I remember with that dude I most recently dated, who's name we won't mention, but it starts with a B... anyway, I remember hating the thought that he was with anyone before me. I hated thinking he penetrated some chick and his droplets of sweat fell upon her body.

I couldn't stand the thought.

I'd NEVER had that thought about any other guy I've dated. NEVER. And I really mean that.

Normally, okay this is sick and fucked up, I sort of enjoyed hearing about their previous intimate experiences. I thought it was hot to picture them fucking chicks... going down on chicks... what their first sexual experiences were like.

But then with B, from day #1, I didn't even want to know their names, know that they had names. He told me one chick's name and for whatever reason I felt sick. He told me on another occasion that everyone liked one of his girlfriends (followed it by saying she didn't challenge him), but still, I again felt sick... and then called her a big fat HO in my head. And that is NOT ME!!! I didn't want their to have been anyone before me. WEIRD! Seriously, it tripped me out. Was I suddenly insecure? Am I more insecure in my later years?

Maybe, I'm growing up... changing... becoming more serious? What the hell?

Anyway. It was strange to come across that list and feel the way I felt seeing it.

Hmm, well, okay, another thought... lately, I've been going out less... going home, turning on the heater, slipping into my polka-dot flannel pajama bottoms, lighting my Mt. View scented candle, and reading a book or watching a romantic comedy or The Bachelor. I feel like I've been so simple lately. That I've somehow regressed into my youthful innocence, and then I stumbled upon some loss of innocence, and I hated it.

Crazy thoughts. 'Scuse Me!

I Will Try My Hardest To Be Less Absent... and Be More Inspired!!!

Okay, so super blurry pic. Oops. I'm so the anti-sexy Halloween girl. This year, I was at the last minute Charlie Chaplin. There was no good reason other than my roommate had a black wig.

Halloween was mmm, okay. Lately, I've been kinda' bored with going out and drinking. Like, I have zero interest. I haven't felt drunk in like a month, and I haven't smoked bud in a like a month.

I suppose that's why I've been absent from the blog lately... uninspired. :-(

But, boring Miss Curious never lasts long, so I gotta' get a move on!!!