The Birthday Bribe, and other Stories.

I'm usually pretty even-keel, and if I'm not, can convince myself to be, but occasionally my stupid, emotional, stereotypically "female" side takes over. Today was one of those times. As I just told my friend Sarah (on Facebook, where I update my status every other minute in a sort of "mini" blog), this is an attempt to write what Nursing calls a Reflective Analysis. The purpose of the RA (which is loathed by everyone) is to help one better understand oneself through telling a story about something that happened, and then picking it apart and using literature to make it relevant. I don't have any literature written about myself, so I'm going to use examples from my LAST relationship to generalize my reaction to THIS one.
Get it?


I bought the Caveman (names have been changed, obviously. Duh.) a guitar for his birthday, and even though his birthday isn't for another three weeks, I took it over and ruined the surprise today. I wanted him to have an extra three weeks to play around with it before he leaves (the leaving factors into this story later).

He, of course, was super excited and we tuned it right away and fiddled around with it for about an hour before deciding to go get some eats at the Gladstone (risotto balls with brie and butternut squash, deep-fried crust, by the way, is FANTASTIC).

Let me preface this entire piece by saying that I fall a little more in love with this man every time we spend time together. Really. I'm not just saying it. I love the way he touches me, and looks at me, and makes me laugh so hard I cough up loogies, and how we find the same things funny and don't care if people watch while we make weird faces and having staring contests in restaurants.

Anyway. One of the things that drives me crazy is that he teases me a bit. I'm fairly easily turned on, and he knows it, and takes full advantage. Maybe 25-30% of the time this leads to sex. The rest of the time he's just goofing around (I can usually tell, and STILL get turned on, stupid, stupid) and when the commercial break is over, so is the funny business. I didn't mind so much when we were honeymooning and having sex every time we looked at each other, but a run of bad cough/cold and flu symptoms and some other complications have slowed that down somewhat and for the past two weeks, we've barely even been kissing (there IS a physical reason for it, or I would be freaking out).

Preface # 2: Just because the sex is less frequent, doesn't mean it's worse--it's actually gotten better and better!

Flashback: sex petering out was the death knell for my last relationship, so even though I understand it from a logistical standpoint, this still scares the shit out of me on a purely emotional level and makes me a little panicky sometimes.

So: we're in Starbucks on our way back home after having a good meal, lots of laughs, blah blah, and I say something about the guitar, and he laughs and says "it's a big present, isn't it? you're probably hoping I'll stick around for a while" or something to that effect, and it's pretty funny, because he's obviously not going anywhere, but on the way home I get to thinking: I'm really scared that when he leaves in May he won't come back. And then I think: "did I really try to buy him into staying? Subconsciously, of course, but still?" And then: "maybe that's why he doesn't seem as keen to have sex right now, maybe he's not planning on coming back!"

Needless to say, I'm behaving like a complete moron at this point. These thoughts have no basis in reality, and my logical brain knows this.

The piece of me that's still raw and open and terrified from the last go-round, though, is pretty tough. She likes the drama, and tries to make herself cry about things that aren't even happening on a regular basis. Right now she's telling me that we're probably not having sex because he doesn't find me attractive anymore and is watching the free porn site I told him about (fun on your own, or with a friend!) instead. All of this because the last guy I fell in love with pulled that exact stunt (minus the me telling him about the free porn, he knew way more about it than I did) and didn't bother telling me until he'd already made up his mind we were over.

I guess you only find out which spots are still sore if you press on them a bit. This particular spot smarts enough to bring tears to my eyes, and the frustrating part is that it's MY problem, not his. I can't bring myself to talk it over with him because I know he's going to tell me to stop being a blockhead, and I'm sick of arguing with myself about it.

May, however, is much too close for my liking, and a big piece of me won't believe that this can work until the Caveman returns.


Some People Have Real Problems (and I'm not Some People!)

First off: this is a shameless plug for Sia's new album (Some People Have Real Problems), which is playing non-stop on my computer!

No, but really: the title applies to more than just a good songstress's latest batch of funky tunes. I'm not Some People--and lately I've been realizing it. Here are some of the situations that make me stop and think about how lucky I am:

1. Having to move a woman whose kidney transplant failed and had to be taken out, out of the room where those with new transplants rejoice.

2. Watching 4 families (and I'm talking LOTS of people, here, not just our typical Nuclear-Types) wait to be told who the 2 available kidneys were going to. And then watching the two who weren't compatible congratulate the two who WERE, and joke about how now, at least, they were at the top of the waiting list.

3. Getting a job offer for a position starting 3 days after my classes end! The contract is in the mail, and if everything checks out, I'll become a member of the Nursing Resource Team at Toronto East General Hospital on April 14th, 2008.

4. Hearing an elderly man talk about how his and his wife's failing health is keeping them from travelling to the West Coast to visit their only son and only (8 month old) grandchild and then heading to my aunt & uncle's to visit my grandmother, and hug her for a little longer than necessary.

5. Being in a relationship that stimulates and challenges me, and makes me excited to see what happens next, when I know so many people who wish they were in the same position....
This time, I'm in it for the journey, and not the destination.

Retroactive: Feb 12th, 2007

I wrote this on my last birthday--and am still proud of it :)

February 12th, 2007:
Waiting for public transportation is a funny kinda thing. It's kinda like dating in a way.

Take Friday, for example: I kept trying to time my departures from work, school, home to coincide with the transit system. It never works. It doesn't matter what time the schedule says something will pull up in front of you, it never shows up on time. Sometimes you turn a corner to see it pulling away from your stop--sometimes you wait...and wait....and wait...and wait.

I waited at the corner of Queen and Woodbine for 35 minutes in the cold. It gave me a lot of time to think about the time I spend waiting.

Usually it's for something headed in the right direction--and usually, as I mentioned before, that something doesn't show up when expected. I stand on the sidewalk and watch car after car heading in the opposite direction, empty and inviting looking. I wonder where they're going and what will happen when they get there. Sometimes I have an irresistable urge to hop onto one just for the ride--so I do. When it gets where it's going, or I feel like getting off, I cross the street to try and get back in the direction I started travelling in in the first place. Then a packed car comes along, and I disregard it in favor of an emptier car further back--only to find that I should have pushed my way onto that car because it was going exactly where I want to be and the emptier car is a short turn. Then I wonder why I didn't work a little harder to get on that first car and stay on it.
Trying to plan in order to get to a busier intersection with more connections rarely works--usually I end up waiting on a corner, frustrated, while buses and streetcars go in every direction except for the ones I want them to.

And sometimes I wait for so long that I just think "fuck it" and start to walk. Without fail, when that happens, I see my car go whizzing past me when I'm halfway in between two stops.