Where to begin today?

I have plenty to fill you in on, because I am the queen of when it rains it pours, making all the bad decisions, picking the wrong guys, etc, etc--if it's a cliche, solid chance it applies to me.

I think I'll tell you about Man Who Went Three (Four?) Weeks Without Asking Me On A Second Date.

We had a great first date, talked for hours, two separate restaurants-- the whole nine. Called me three days later, we chatted--good times. Lovely, lovely.

But after I hadn't heard in two weeks, I gave up hope. I mean, I wasn't madly in love with him, so, it wasn't too much of heartbreak, but, still, ya know, I'm freaking adorable, Y U NO CALL ME?!

Finally, three weeks later, he asked me out again. Via text. I hate technology. I was out of town, so, I told him I couldn't see him until the following week. We made plans, it was all nice.

He invited me to a Muse concert--oh my gosh--I was so excited! Here's where things got dicey. We agreed to meet up when I got off work at 5:15, have dinner and then go to the show. Sounds good, right?

So, I didn't hear from him until 6:50. The concert starts at 7. At this point I think I'm being stood up, which, let's be honest for me, wouldn't be a big shock.

When I do hear from him, he's just leaving his house, which is 30 minute away. Can we meet at Such and Such Restaurant? I hate Such and Such Restaurant, but, I figure "sure, we can grab some food". I leave for the place and when I am literally down the street, the text comes that he is running late and it will be another half an hour. It's after 8:30 at this point, and I'm beginning to get annoyed.

When he finally meets me at the place, he tells me we have to go--I have taken a few sips of my Diet Coke I ordered while waiting and am beyond starving at this point--I mean, I assumed I was going to get to eat food tonight. I'm wrong. His friends are in the car (drinking beers, I might add), so, you'll just follow us to the arena? I tell him I spent all my cash on valet, since I was told we were carpooling to the arena. He doesn't offer to take me to an ATM or find a place for me to park or anything. Le sigh.

Boy does not know downtown AT ALL, so, I spend another 30 minutes following he and his probably drunk friends and I'm growing more and more frustrated. I know my way around town, but, am trying to let him be the man here, even though it's been a miserable day waiting for him to call, waiting on him to be late and then, at 9:57PM, he finds one single parking spot, leaving me to drive around even more.

Eventually, knowing I had an 8AM flight to catch the following morning, I called him and said I was going home. He was piiiiiiiised. Which I understand, but, my hell, you say let's have dinner at 5:15 and don't show up until 9PM, no. No. I offered to pay him for the tickets, but explained that I spent the entire evening waiting around on him with very little communication, I had told him I was leaving on an early flight and I had actually hoped to see him. I told him I would like to see him again, when I got back in town.

That was two weeks ago. No word. Not that I am surprised at all, not that I really wanted to see him again anyway (I can't handle this immature, poor communication, drunk friends nonsense), but, at least maybe an acknowledgment of his poor behavior, or something--anything.

And yes, I should have known when we went three weeks without asking me out again, I should have known. Ughhh. This, this my friends is why I am two seconds away from totally giving up. Because really, is this what I am waiting for? If so, I am moving to Austria and becoming a nun. Maybe then I'll marry a captain with seven children. And we'll sing. Duh.

(My Daniel Cleaver to Mr. Darcy ratio is getting out of control. I need to meet a nice boy!)

The kiss off

Tonight I am cuddled up with some brownies watching The Sound of Music--which is my go to movie for everything. It's my happy movie, my "world is falling apart" movie, my "there is a storm outside and I want comfort" movie. Tonight, it is my "passing the time until midnight and I can download Les Miserables onto my computer" movie. Because I will be staying up until midnight to do so and if I am not distracted I will start crying the ugly cry!

Maria solves everything. At least temporarily.

I am really struggling tonight. One of my favorite coworkers, the girl I am probably closest to at my job has had a miserable week, her pregnant little sister was badly injured in a hit and run, so we closed up shop for the night so she could be with her sister, which leaves me home alone yet again. I realize my whiny is nothing compared to what AB and her sister and going through, but, it still sucks.

You see, when I heard we were off tonight I was tres excited because I was meant to see a boy, so I anxiously texted to see if we were still on for dinner.  Welp, it's 8PM and I haven't heard back, so, I'm thinking "no". And I also just ate about a pound of cheese, so, there's that too.

This is the thing--the kiss off. All the men I even look at end up doing this. We have a lovely time together, great few dates--or in some cases, months--and then suddenly, they have fallen off the face of the earth. Which brings me to this? Are men really such giant babies these days that they can't just end things like an adult? Yeah, being dumped sucks ass (trust me, I know, happened recently), but, in the end, it hurts way less than the kiss off. The kiss off is just mean.

I got in a fight with my ex once (after we broke up no less!) and asked him if I was getting the standard "his first name and last name kiss off". He's an expert at the kiss off and I suspect may be tutoring all the other men I meet. Seems to be my lot in life lately. Just the girl all men forget. The girl that isn't worthy of a goodbye. The girl who wasn't interesting or pretty enough for an actual relationship. The girl who isn't anything.

So, as I sit here attempting to hold my head up, I will channel my beloved Maria "besides what you see, I have confidence in me!". If I say it enough, will be be true?

This is my point

Sorry I've been MIA--had a work trip to Denver, then caught a cold and now heading off to DC to run a race. Don't worry, I have plenty to catch you up on, including but not limited to: awkward comments from Starbucks baristas; men who text after a three (four?) week hiatus; stalking Gerard Butler's younger, blonder twin through Denver (no, really, I even tried to snap a picture, but, damn Amanda kept getting her giant purse in my way)......and really cute boys who say they want to see you and only you, but, uh, never actually see you.

Someone go get me a cat. Or like 15 of them. And maybe some knitting supplies..... We are weeks away from Crazy Cat Lady status!

The Brit

Hm. Where to begin today? I should probably break down and tell you about The Brit, shouldn't I?

Oh goodness, it's still so goddamn hard to talk about him. To talk about us. But, time heals all, or whatever, so I might as well suck it up and get it out. Plus, this might help you understand why I am such a nut. 

So, here goes:

For a long time, I was in love with a barricade boy (an actor in Les Mis on the West End for those of y'all who don't speak stagey). He changed my world. He woke me up.  He swept me off my feet. It was one of those things that just happened--he came into my life on a whim, unexpectedly and sudden. It was magical. 

He was, for me, the ultimate. What I had always dreamt of. Oh goodness me. He was tall, dark and handsome, English, stagey and so incredibly talented. I couldn't believe my luck when we formed a friendship and I couldn't sleep at night when we became more, because I felt so, so, lucky. 

I did. And it was life changing. 

What he and I did have was exceedingly special--when it wasn't a hot mess, that is. He was truly the first man in my life to "get" me. He challenged me, he saw and understood the "real me". I was 100% myself with him from day one and we just fit. It was so very Marius and Cossette. I mean, we were just instantly together. Instantly there was an "us". I almost think it was love at first sight. We couldn't stand to be apart once we had met. 

Pretty much what we said when I left for Heathrow after our first date

We understood each other. We joked like old friends, laughed for hours, and talked of running away together--anywhere, so long as we were together. I am not sure if I fell in love with him, London, Les Mis, or all three at once, but, suddenly, he was my barricade boy. I was his, he was mine--completely. My swing, Brujon and occasional Feuilly. My Lovely Lady. Later, my gangster with a bad New York accent running political schemes. 

And then, suddenly,  he was nothing. He was no longer mine in Jesus Christ Superstar, nor in workshops for upcoming tours in Spain--nothing-- we didn't belong to one another any longer. (there was a whole big nasty end, but, we don't need to get into it) (suffice to say, it was the lowest point of my life, the hardest pain I'd ever felt. I wondered if I just "fell" into the subway tracks at the Oxford St station if it would make the pain stop. I remember not being able to breathe and was so jacked up on caffeine because I couldn't sleep that I almost passed out talking to a priest at Westminster Abbey. Really. That happened)

We went from talking almost every single day, to nothing for over a month. It hurt more than I thought it could. He was just going on with his life, and I was here, unable to figure what I did wrong, unable to sort why my dreams were dashed, unable to trust myself or to even get out of bed some days. 

I told myself this was karma, that I didn't really deserve to be happy--to have someone like him in my life. I wasn't worthy of love. I'd scroll through our emails and our texts and cry. He was my perfection, my happiness, my confidant. And he was gone.

Queen's Theatre Les Miserables 2011-2012 cast. He's there, but only I know where. 

Eventually, he reached out to me, and as angry and heartbroken as I was, I couldn't show it. I just told him he was a wanker and we went along with our friendship. It was so weird to not have him call me "baby". As time went on, we become more comfortable again--I remember him teasing me about my Halloween costume and wishing me a "Happy Thanks Giving!x". I still wasn't his, and he wasn't mine. But, we were something. 

I started dating, I couldn't wait forever for him to come to his senses, but, I knew if he ever asked for me back, I'd be there in a second. A milisecond even. 

PREACH, Eponine, preach. 

That day never came. 

When I arrived in England for a few weeks holiday after Christmas, he welcomed me via text, but informed me he was in a relationship. My heart sank. I had a feeling--and I was seeing someone (the man who couldn't commit, fyi who broke up with me right before Valentine's Day), but still, to have our relationship forcibly over like that was hard. I remember not being able to eat my lunch. We made plans to catch up, but being the wanker he is, he cancelled many a time. Until I went all guilt trip on him and we agreed to meet when he got off work one night. 

As my friend and I headed to where he was to meet him, I began to shake and cry. She had to slap me and calm me down. I didn't know what would happen when I saw him. Would I cry? Would I vomit? Could I pull off calm, cool and collected? Was I really as great an actress as I think I am? 

Well, wouldn't ya know it, I walked in, saw him, and felt NOTHING?! No, really, nothing. (I mostly blame the fact that at the time, I was crazy for the guy I was dating at the time)

We hugged, we talked, it was lovely. It was more than lovely, it was almost perfect. We had the best night catching up with the old Les Mis lot, chatting with his flatmate, busting into Tommy Steele songs, and eventually hand jiving at 2am (pretty standard for this group). I haven't laughed so hard since I don't remember when. We then all headed to Balan's for breakfast at 3am.  We cheers-ed to Molly and her graduate school acceptance, we laughed over his inability to drink vodka and inappropriate drink names that he ordered for his friends. 

He harassed me about not seeing his show yet; noticed my nose ring within seconds and poked me in the face most of the night saying "I can't believe you've done and gotten your nose pierced!", we laughed over Les Mis stalkers, and sparkle shoes for Priscilla. 

We hugged many times--he is the best hugger. It was just like it's always been. Our hugs were the same, our jokes the same. He was the same funny, strong willed goofball I fell in love with. He said things to me that made me cry--things that I will hold in my heart forever. 

I saw him in his how the next night and laughed and cried. I am always so proud of him and I loved seeing him and his amazing dance prowess (even if his voice was not highlighted at all), we held hands and walked back to my hotel talking about old times, and when I'm coming back to see him in Priscilla--which will happen, I am sure. 

We laughed over Sondheim DVD's and my love of The Great Race--mostly Jack Lemmon. 

There was talk of Skype dates and we shook on it. A promise to text when I got on the plane the next morning, another hug and we said our goodbyes. I went to my room and cried--a standard London practice for me, but this time, it was happy tears. Happy to have had a night with my best friend. 


Even after heartbreak, I keep returning to him, unable to give up what we had and what I hoped we could have. We've texted a few times since I've been back in the States--including this goddamn gem which stopped me in my tracks. I return to the hope that we can remain friends; that the one person in my life to ever understand me, to ever fully complete and complement me--that he and I are not lost forever. As friends (which is how we started. Amazing friends)

I don't doubt that he did love me, and I don't doubt that we are perfect for each other, but, our love wasn't and isn't perfect, and that's why we can't work. I hope we have found a way we can be involved in each others lives and maintain the friendship I have so desperately missed. (seriously, he's the only person who's more of a stage geek than me) (and he even called me "beautiful" and "svelte" when I saw him last, which of course was a huge ego boost because he's not quite as ripped and in shape as he once was, so, basically, I won that round, New Girlfriend)

Will I ever fully be over him? I hope so. I know everyone tells me when the Right Guy comes along, you forget everything else, you are floored and forever changed--well, the problem is, I thought that's what he was. I can't imagine someone better suited for me, someone I was better suited for. Alas, he and I cannot be, so I hold to the hope that there is another Brujon out there for me. Another Tony. Another Topper. Another man I will love so dearly, who will bring out the best in me and make me feel like only he ever did--only better. 

Because if I don't believe that, what else is there?

Ain't Nobody Got Time For That

Nothing like waking up on a Saturday morning to a find a text message from the love of your life.

Whom you haven't spoken to in a month.

I miss you too, you fucktard. Ball is in your court, homeslice. Grrrrr.  Sort it out!

And then you are so stressed out that you can't eat your breakfast and it's Tuesday and you still haven't heard back from him--because of course you responded. And then you want to cry again.

Ugh.

Men.

So, that happened

The ex husband got married, and then the following week, took his child bride to my church. (seriously, child) (stunningly gorgeous child from what I understand)

I'll let you chew on that for a minute.

Or 17,000 of them. I know I'm still processing it.

I'm officially a First Wife.

I can't make this up.

Stay tuned, I have plenty more to talk about (Men who take pity on me and cook! Running into church friends while you are with your ex at Whole Foods! Liar, liar pants on fire-s! Men who send texts you really don't need!), just been trying to process this nugget for the last week.