Quitting Smoking is Hard

What nobody tells you about quitting smoking is that the first week is actually fairly easy. You're all excited and feeling good, because, "Hey! I can totally do this!" It's the second week that blows. It blows hard.

It's not that it's any more difficult than the week before really. The actual act of not smoking is easy. You just don't smoke. It's what you do with all of that pent up energy (that mostly tends to be negative) that is difficult. I guess that would mean dealing with emotions. Huh. Who wants to do that?

I am finding that I have a whole lot of negative, pent up energy. I have been really grumpy over the past couple of days. So grumpy in fact, that I have even been resisting writing because, seriously, nobody wants to listen to me bitch. Not even a little bit. But you might want to read some of my recent (super bitchy) observations. I'm feeling a little like Andy Rooney tonight. (And I may be too grumpy still to write a coherent post. You know, one with a point and all?) So here goes, another listicle of sorts. You love lists! (Are you sick of 'em yet?)

We shall call this one Moo's Bitchy Observations! (Now with more bitchiness, less nicotine!)

• My friend BA on Facebook needs to stop with the "monkey time" status updates. We all know that they are some sort of code for s-e-x. And personally? I don't need to know.
  
• There is a girl at my work who does not know how to walk in high heels. Seriously. You can hear her coming from a mile away. And she's little. Like maybe 5'1" 100 lbs and she clomps around in those things like the Jolly Green Giant. The building rumbles a bit. She's nice and I feel bad for being annoyed. But these are the things that run through my head.
• A couple of the personal trainers at my gym have this super annoying habit of doing their hair like they're bridesmaids or going to the prom (on any average old day). For real. It could be a Tuesday and they've got it up in these elaborate up-dos. I mean, I can kind of understand, I guess. If I essentially wore sweats to work each day, I would probably also want to do something to look pretty. But, it is so odd. This one has been bugging me for a while. Even before I quit smoking.
• Sitting next to my boss in a meeting is like watching a movie with my senile grandmother. (God rest her soul.) Since half of our department is on the other side of the country in our Boston office, we do most of our meetings via video conference. (I could not spell Mass. for the life of me, ha. I tried 3 times and kept getting that little red line under it. So, I gave up. Mass. They're in Mass.) I think she might be a little hard of hearing or something because every few minutes she's like "What are they talking about? Do we do that here? What did they say?" I end up missing half of what is being said trying to explain what's going on to her. Now, I make sure I'm not sitting anywhere near her during these meetings.
• I'm afraid quitting smoking is going to make me gain weight. (This is more of an admission than an observation.) I lost about 20 lbs a couple of years ago, I worked really hard at it, and I am terrified of putting it back on. So I re-signed up for Weight Watchers online. Here's the bad part... I lied about my weight to sign up. I'm not overweight (not yet, anyway), but I just wanted it for the online tracking and the recipes. I know. But I promise, I'm not really trying to lose. Just maintain. And I need a little help.

I do feel a little bit better getting those things off my chest. Maybe I will head on over to www.cuteoverload.com and look at pictures of kittens or something. That ought to help. Don't worry. I'm not planning on smoking. I haven't given up yet.

Where Do I Know You From?

Tonight, for the first time, my internet dating life crossed over into my real life. It was creepy. I did not like it.

I was at the gym minding my own business, chugging along on the elliptical when it happened. Now, I've been working out at this gym for almost 6 years now (Good Lord. I cannot believe it's been that long.) The funny part is, I don't even live in that part of town anymore. I'm such a creature of habit that I drive 5 miles out of my way to go to my old gym, when there is a perfectly nice, newly remodeled gym just the other side of downtown (near where I live, within not-so-safe walking distance) that I could go to. But I'm comfortable at my old gym, so I keep going. (Truth be told, I'm a little bit afraid of the downtown gym. And I don't mean afraid of the bums who might accost me on the way there, though I should be. I mean, I'm kind of shy. If I'm going to workout, I prefer it be in a comfortable environment. I think maybe I'm turning autistic. Is that possible?)

Anyway, as I was saying... I was chugging away on the elliptical actually enjoying myself. (I know! Weird.) In walks this guy. Kind of chubby, creepy looking, wearing a cap that is obviously covering up a hideous blonde combover. It was none other than LunchTodayOK! OMFG.

I don't think he recognized me, but I certainly recognized him. It was weird. As soon as I saw him, I knew it was him. He probably thought I was totally checking him out, because I kept looking at him, horrified, yet strangely fascinated to see him in person. And petrified that he would recognize me or worse yet! Try to talk to me. I would die. Just die.

Luckily, I escaped without him trying to engage me in conversation. I don't think he is stalking me as I remember from his profile that he lives in that part of town. Plus, I never responded to any of his emails. And, I've never mentioned in my profile where I work out. But! In the almost 6 years that I've been going to that gym, I've certainly never seen him there. I choose to believe that it was just a creepy, god awful coincidence.

UPDATE!!!

I'm a proud non-smoker! I still haven't smoked since last Wednesday. The weekend went fairly well. I even went out on Saturday night. And drank! And managed not to smoke. Yay me!

I've found that the most difficult time of the day is late afternoon, just before the end of work. That's when I crave a cigarette the most. But, armed with my mantra (I am a proud non-smoker), I keep on keepin' on. Yay me!

I Am a Proud Non-Smoker

While I was getting ready to leave work this afternoon, my mind began to drift to my walk home and the cigarette I was going to smoke, when all of a sudden I thought "Damn't! That's right! I don't get to. Crap."

And then I remembered S' words of wisdom. "I am a proud non-smoker." I chanted it all the way home. It totally helped too.

Today was not so bad. Fine, actually. The walk home was the only real craving. I'm still kind of dealing with it. I will probably go clean something shortly.

Last night a friend of mine told me that they say when you quit smoking you get 2 hours of your day back! Two hours! Between the 5 minutes or so that it takes to smoke each cigarette and the time it takes to buy them etc., 2 hours. I figure since I smoked (past tense!) about 1/2 a pack a day, I'm saving myself like an hour a day. Which is kind of cool. More time to clean stuff.

To Do List

Things I can do instead of smoking:

1. Clean out the refrigerator. (It really needs it.)
2. Clean the microwave. (Ditto.)
3. Organize a drawer in my dresser. (With 8 drawers and a cupboard, that's a lot of craving combating.)
4. Scrub the tub. (A bathtub can always use a good scrubbing.)
5. Take a bath in newly clean tub.
   
6. Reorganize my closet (one little bit at a time).
7. Take a walk around the block.
8. At work, walk down, then back up a few flights of stairs. (Although, if there are people smoking in the stairwells, as there have been in the past, this might not be very helpful.)
9. Give myself a mani/pedi. Or! Even better, take the money I'm saving and go get a real mani/pedi. With the sea salt scrub and everything!
10. Write on my blog. I'm sure there will be lots to tell.

Yes, I know that almost all of the activities listed involve cleaning and/or organizing, but I really think those will be more helpful to me than simply taking a walk or reading a book, as I've seen suggested on quitting websites. I need to be kept busy. Reading a book won't help if I can't concentrate through the nic fit.

If you have any suggestions feel free to leave them in the comments!

Oh Crap.

I'm cringing as I begin this post. I'm so hesitant to say this out loud, much less write it down, but I think I'm quitting smoking. (Hides head under covers....) Holy crap. I can't believe I just said that. I hesitate because once you say it, it's out there. And people know. And they check up on you. And give you (what feels like) false words of encouragement. And EVERYONE knows when you've failed. And it seems like you ALWAYS fail. Needless to say, it's a lot of pressure.

As you may guess, this came to a head because I've been so sick this week. This flu, or whatever it was, literally, kicked my ass. It started Sunday. I felt ok, but for the life of me could. not. get. out. of. bed. No matter what I did. I wanted to to go to the gym. I wanted to go to the grocery store. No dice. I was laid out flat.

Monday was worse. By then I knew I was sick. My chest was burning. My whole body ached and I had chills. Yet, despite all of that and the fact that it was pouring down rain, I still went outside to smoke. I kept thinking about how I was not going to get any better if I kept smoking. So, I decided to run a little experiment. I would try not to smoke while I was sick and see if that helped me get better quicker. (I've never been one not to smoke, even when I was sick. I've always wondered if it would help. Duh, right?)

Here it is Thursday evening and I've only had one slip up. (Last night, and it tasted horrible and hurt my chest so I put it out pretty quickly. Yay me!) Yesterday was kind of hard. I had lots of cravings, and obviously I gave in to one of them. Today, was a little bit easier. I'm not quite sure why. I think part of it is that I feel really empowered and that in itself has been reason enough not to go have a cigarette.

This afternoon, as I gave the idea of really quitting some real thought, I did some research. I wanted to know cold, hard facts. We all know smoking is bad for us and quitting is great in the long run. But if I keep quit (is that a phrase?) what will be my immediate results? Here's what I found:

Within 24 hours:

• my chance of heart attack decreases (ok, that's good, but give me something tangible)
  
• damage to my skin stops (Really? Because about a week ago I spent a LOT of money on a whole new skin care regimen. Keep talking...)

Within 48 hours:

• Carbon monoxide levels return to normal (Yeah, whatever. That's great and all, but I can't see that.)
• ability to smell and taste is enhanced (That sounds pretty good. No wonder people put on weight!)

And within 2 to 12 weeks? My circulation and lung function will improve. And we know what that does for your skin! Also? Whiter teeth. Better breath. Stronger hair and nails. Let's face it people, I am vain. Aside from the potential weight gain (which I'm hoping to control with lots of exercise), it's all positive stuff.

The bad news is that only 4-7% of people who try to quit without the benefit of drugs or nicotine replacement are successful. So, I'm kind of fighting an uphill battle.

To help with the motivation, I did some figurin'. How much am I spending on cigarettes a year? $936! OMFG! I can't even tell you the overall lifetime of smoking figure. It is shameful. Maybe if (When! When I'm successful!) I am successful, I will divulge that information. But, oh boy. Shameful.

The good news is that not smoking has helped me get better faster. I've been getting incrementally better each day since Tuesday. No lingering cough, as I usually have when I get sick. Tomorrow, when I go back to work, will be the true test.

So, I know that all of you will do your best to be supportive of me. You may get lots of short, frustrated posts here, since one of the things I can do instead of smoking is writing. Good Lord. See, the thing is, once I hit publish post? It's out there. Be kind when I slip. Cause I will slip. And I will do my best to pick myself back up again. OK, here goes nothing!

Tired Old Retreads

After 2 more dates, I've finally come to the conclusion that J and I are just not a match. He's great; he's nice; he's super cute too, but something is just not quite there, for either of us, I think. So, that's that. I'm sure I will still keep in touch with him, because I like him just fine. He's just not boyfriend material and that's ok.

I'm thinking about giving my internet dating profile a rest for a while. It seems that after almost 6 months at it I'm beginning to scrape the bottom of the barrel. All I'm getting is tired, old retreads who I wasn't interested in in the first place. Or the ickiest of ickys that I would never be interested in to begin with.

Some of the retreads? Marko3. He's the guy who sent me an angry text message because I never called him back. (I really wish I would've saved the text so I could quote it here. It said something to the effect of "if [I] had a problem with [him]... [I] should've confronted it in person, rather than just not calling back." Seriously. I don't know you well enough to confront anything in person. I have a hard time confronting people I know in person, much less random internet guys.) A couple of weeks ago I get an email from Marko3 saying, "I was wondering if you were still interested. I know I tried calling you a couple of times, but never heard back. Let me know..." Huh. I wonder why you never heard anything back, Marko3?

Retread number 2? LunchTodayOK! Now I know I sent this guy a polite thanks, but no thanks, email when he was operating under some equally creepy screen name. I think I may have even blocked him. He caught me off guard with the new name. But there is no chance in hell for Mr. LunchTodayOK. He's just too smarmy looking. And sends emails that say nothing more than "You are beautiful!" Which is a nice sentiment, coming from the right person, but coming from him? Ick. If you could just see his pictures, you'd know what I'm talking about. All I can say is he's a blonde with a bad combover who thinks he's all "hip" and "happening". And he wears his Chargers' jersey tucked into his khaki shorts. Ew.

Another retread? Listo. I have nothing snarky or mean to say about Listo. He seems nice enough in his profile. Well educated, well traveled. I wasn't interested a few months ago, and for some reason, I'm still not interested. I feel kind of bad. Listo never did anything to me. Ah, well.

Ickys? The previously mentioned Chas. Who emailed me like 3 times with no response from me. The last email said "I guess you didn't like my profile." I'm sorry, Chas, but no I didn't. And your sad sack of a final email did not help your cause. (Can you tell I'm sick and grumpy?) Truth be told I did not like Chas' eyebrows. Shallow? Perhaps, but I am not waking up every morning to caterpillars crawling across my beloved's forehead. Plus! Chas? Blech. I do not like that name.

Also, icky? PBEmerald. I think he might be a little bit retarded. I'm serious. A little background here. I loved the whole 25 Things on Facebook so much that I modified mine and used it for my profile on the dating site. It got a good response for a while. Until I got this email from PBEmerald,

"I too like lists, however I prefer the bulleted kind over the numbered. I purposely avoid them here as I think they seem to structured and direct.

On your artistic talent, have you tried interpretive dance? I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure that the addition of the word 'interpretive' means it can come out any way you want and it's still art.

What do homeless people yell at you?

Lastly, you can change a lot of things about yourself, but your height is not one of them. Sorry to break it to you.

Check out my profile and let's correspond."

I'm trying to give PBEmerald the benefit of the doubt, and assume he thinks he is funny. But aside from the interpretive dance bit, none of that was funny. Some of it just came across as stiff and very formal. "I do not like numbered lists as they are too direct." Yes, sir.

So, I think for now I'm over the whole internet thing. I think I'm going to take some time off and either go back in a couple of months or not. Perhaps in the mean time I will meet my next love the old fashioned way... Drunk, in a bar.

Earl Has Issues

As you all know, I've been having issues with Earl lately. He just refuses to let me sleep. Some nights are better than others, but even if I don't get woken up every hour on the hour with his shenanigans, I can usually count on him waking me up some time between 4 and 5 am. Sometimes I don't really mind. Especially if it's more towards 5 am. But most times it's a huge pain in the ass.

What does he do? Anything that makes noise. He likes to make the blinds clatter against the window. Or, bat at pictures that hang on the wall (N had a fabulous suggestion to prevent this. Two nails inconspicuously placed on either side of the picture and it totally works!). Scratch at the closet doors until they open. ANYTHING THAT MAKES NOISE. This way, mama wakes up, and he's got what he wants.

Last Sunday night was the final straw. I seriously was up every hour or so. When I'd get up to yell at him, he'd wind his way around my legs purring the whole time. "Wow. What are you doing up? Did I wake you? Since you're up, let's play!" Um, no thanks. I'd prefer to sleep.

Monday morning I called the vet. I found this place online that specializes in cats, the Cheshire Cat Clinic. They seemed knowledgeable on the phone. I made an appointment for Friday morning.

Getting Earl into his carrier wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I only had to chase after him once. (You should have seen the scratches on this poor woman I saw at the clinic. Her kitty was not happy about going into her carrier. Poor lady was beaten and bloodied.) I was a little worried that he'd come crashing out the bottom since he probably exceeds the weight limit of the flimsy cardboard carrier I got at Petco when they were kittens and could both fit in one! So, I carried it not by the handle at the top, but from the bottom. I could just see the bottom falling out and me chasing Earl down the street. That would not be good.

We made it to the vet's office in one piece with minimal yowling. I got him into the exam room and let him out. He was actually very well behaved. He even let them stick a thermometer up his butt. He was shedding like crazy, as he tends to do when he's stressed.

The doctor, who was very nice, poked and prodded at him. Apparently his knees click in some weird way. She was concerned with this, me not so much. The knee clicking is not what's keeping me up at night. Also, I should be feeding them wet food, something about crystals in his urinary tract. And, Earl is a wee bit overweight. Fat boy.

So, what did she say about Earl's hyperactivity? He's bored. Confined to a small space. And he sleeps all day while I'm gone. She suggested kitty dvds with birds and rodents on a constant loop while I'm gone. She also suggested a gargantuan kitty condo, and I say absolutely not. I love my babies, but not enough to live with a kitty condo in my bedroom. I am only inches away from becoming a crazy cat lady. A 6 ft tall kitty condo in my bedroom would only hasten the transformation. At that point I may as well start shuffling around in a ratty cardigan and slippers, eating cat food out of a can.

But the best suggestion ever? Perhaps Earl is anxious. And what he really needs is Paxil. Or, even better? Xanax! OK, if Earl had a prescription for Xanax, I can guarantee you that not one of those pills would make it into that cat's mouth. Seriously, I'd be poaching those things left and right. And Paxil? No thank you. I'm not putting my cat on an anti-depressant. I may be an almost-crazy-cat-lady, but I'm not sure I believe in cat depression.

One thing she did suggest that I tried last night was half a benadryl at bedtime to make him drowsy. She showed me these little salmon flavored treats that are "pill pouches". You put the pill in the pouch, seal it shut and voila! Kitty will totally eat it. Um, yeah right.

I tried it with Earl last night. First, with the pill pouch. He ate everything but the pill. Then, I tried peanut butter, again he ate everything but the pill. I gave up without much of a fight. I didn't think that trying to wrestle that pill into his mouth was going yield anything but me ending up frustrated and bleeding. So, I decided to take my chances with an unmedicated kitty.

And? I was up at 4. Luckily, he settled down relatively quickly, and I was able to sleep until 7:30. I will try to find the kitty dvds. And I'll keep trying the pill pouches with benadryl.

Perhaps I will get myself a Xanax prescription.

Boys Still Suck, But Also I May Be an Idiot

My good friend L offered a sympathetic ear over the weekend, as I threw myself around like a spoiled child wailing, "Why doesn't he like me????" (Perhaps a slight exaggeration.) When I had finally calmed down and was able to listen to rational advice (which might have not been until Monday afternoon) L said to me, "I know you. You will totally go out with him again. If that's the case, you need to let him know it's not ok to blow you off like that. Maybe you should send him an email?"

"But what should I say?" I whined. (This should surprise no one. I tend to whine.) Also, I'm lazy or really can't think straight when I'm upset or considering confronting someone with something unpleasant. So L pretty much wrote the email for me.

It went something like this: "Fluffy, fluffy pleasantness, something about what did you do last night, blah, blah, blah... Maybe we got our signals crossed or I misunderstood, but I thought we talked about doing something this weekend? I'm not trying to put you on the spot or anything, I just want to see if it's early onset dementia. I did just turn 36 recently, so dementia is not out of the question."

And I sent it. I even got a reply right away! Which went something like this: "Yeah, we did talk about that. But I sent you an email on Friday letting you know I had Saturday free and you responded saying you were looking forward to a relaxing weekend, so I took it as you were just going to take it easy. I guess our communication wasn't so good. We definitely need to make it up though..."

For the record, I never did receive the email he is speaking of. I did at some point on Friday email him that I was looking forward to a relaxing weekend, but I certainly didn't mean I didn't want to go out with him. So, yeah, communication was a big FAIL on both of our parts.

This is why email, text, IM, etc. are all really crappy methods of communication. Especially when you are just getting to know each other. I'm totally guilty though, because there are times when I would so much rather email or text someone rather than call them. But emails get lost. Tone is misunderstood. Texts have character limits (and I am chatty).

Obviously, I could have saved myself (and you all) a whole lot of misery and "boys are stupid" and all that if I had just said what I meant in my email to J on Friday. Which was "So, are we going out or what?" And he could have saved us all a whole lot of misery and "boys are stupid" and all that if he had just picked up the phone. Lesson learned.

I spoke with J tonight. (On the phone!) We have plans for later this week. Not sure what night yet, but we have plans.

P.S. L also said something really simple today that I'm going to try to remember in all of my relationships. Stop jumping to conclusions and communicate when something isn't sitting right. Simple, right? But not always easy to remember.

Boys Suck Part III: Now Even Earl's in on the Act

This will be brief. Look at the time stamp on this. Yes, it's correct. What am I doing up so early, you ask? I've been up since 4:00 am, thanks to Earl.

My sweet boy, (yeah, right) Earl did everything he could to not let me sleep last night. Running around? Check. Playing in the closet? Check. Climbing all over me? Check. And last, but not least, for his grand finale, scratching at K's bathroom door so loud I could hear it from my bedroom? CHECK!

What is Earl doing now that I've given up? Sleeping quietly on the counter.

I swear it's a conspiracy.

Gratitude

After being in such a crabby mood all weekend, sulking around for two days over a stupid boy, I decided tonight that I should try to remember all of the things that I am grateful for. Thank you, Oprah!

I am grateful for the fact that even though Earl is not a lap kitty, when he's sleeping close to me he still has to be touching me somehow, someway, usually with his paws. It is truly one of the sweetest things ever. He is so crazy (and somewhat bratty) most of the day, but when he slows down he is just a big baby who loves his mama.

As for Meredith, I'm grateful for how she eagerly takes her place either snuggled up right next to me, or balancing on my hip, as soon as I lie down to go to sleep at night. (Can you tell I took a nap with my kitties today?)

Gratitude does not even begin to describe how I feel about the Weight Watchers Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Sundae. Those things are like a little plastic cup full of heaven all for only 3 points!

I'm grateful to have a best friend like N, who has known me since I was a little kid. She has seen me in all of my glory and at my very worst. I love that we can sit around and talk for hours, sometimes talking about how amazing it is that we can talk about nothing at all. She is Laverne to my Shirley; Karen to my Grace; and I love her! Of course, I'm grateful for all of my friends and family, but you know, I had to show my girl N some love.

Today, especially, I'm grateful for mimosas. Mimosas could be one of the most perfect drinks ever. Champagne and orange juice, you just can't go wrong. And apparently on Sunday's at Mo's you can get bottomless mimosas for $9.50! Who knew? My headache is not so grateful for the mimosas, but I remain thankful anyway.

Lastly, I'm grateful for C & S with whom I lost touch for too long, but luckily through the wonders of technology we've reconnected. Sorry that this turned all "Oscar acceptance speech", but at least I'm not thanking the little people. Oh! I think I hear the orchestra playing me off....

Boys Suck Part II: Now With Even More Suckitude!

Still have not heard a peep from J. Whatever. I am a very busy girl and I cannot be bothered with stupid boys.

However, today, if it were appropriate to be completely honest with my Facebook status updates, here's what you would have read.

8:04 am- Moo woke up and checked her phone. Still nothing.

8:34 am- Moo wonders "Is it mean to de-friend someone you just friended?" Yes, J, I'm looking at you.

12:37 pm- Moo is at the gym wondering why boys are so very stupid.

2:13 pm- Moo is again checking her cell phone and is tempted to call the operator and ask them to call to check the line.

3:13 pm- Moo is now online again looking for a new boy. (Yes, Chas [blech, what the hell kind of name is that?] I got your first email. No, I will not be responding. Perhaps you have not read my Rules for Internet Dating?)

4:52 pm- Moo gives up. Is now planning on spending the evening in her pajamas watching an America's Next Top Model Marathon on Bravo.

Boys Suck

I'm kind of crabby today. It's been 4 days since my date with J, and I've barely heard from him. I say barely because we spoke on Tuesday (he called me, then I called him back later), and he's emailed me a couple of times (about Facebook for God's sake), but hasn't made contact since I replied to an email of his this morning.

I rue the day I ever told him about Facebook. I'm on there throughout the day at work (I know, but they don't seem to mind) and every time I saw that he was online (And not emailing me! The nerve!) it was like a slap in the face.

When we spoke on Tuesday, we had tentatively made plans for this weekend. J wasn't sure which night he would have his daughter and I said Saturday would work better for me. Since then? Nothing. Except for stupid questions about Facebook. Lame.

What is it about a guy that can turn a relatively well-adjusted girl like myself into a compulsive cell phone/Facebook/email checker? Seriously! When I don't have a man in my life I'm totally fine. I don't worry about who's calling, who's emailing, blah, blah, blah. Throw a guy into the mix? And I'm all "Why isn't he calling? Where is he? Is he out with Tragic B?" Ugh.

And I can't help but second guess myself. You know? I think about the "number" conversation we had the other night and wonder "Did that turn him off?" Or how I told him that I had a date on Wednesday night, but I wasn't too interested in going. (Which, by the way, I didn't mean it in a "You are the love of my life now, J. I shall never date another." kind of way. I meant it in a "It's freaking Wednesday, who wants to go out with a guy, who quite frankly, looks kind of sweaty in his photos?" kind of way.) But of course, I think J took it to be the former. Plus! The guy who looked kind of sweaty in his photos? Never even called me for our date. How's that for karma?

So here I sit, on a Friday night, trying to decide between cleaning my house (thrilling!) or catching up on my reading (slightly more thrilling!). Wondering why it is I can't seem to make it past that increasingly crucial second date. What the hell?

P.S. I think the cleaning is going to win out. That way I can blast angry music and scrub out my aggression. Hee hee.

One Lump or Two?

I had my date with J the other night. We went to a bar in his neck of the woods. It was so good to see him again. Yes, he's as cute as I thought he was. He still seems fairly normal. I'm almost certain that he's not an axe murderer or con-man. Just a regular guy. An awfully cute one at that.

As the evening wore on and the drinks loosened us up, inevitably, our conversation turned to s-e-x. I was reminded of a story from my past that I shared with J. Why I shared it, God only knows, but I did.

Many years ago (good lord, 16 years ago to be exact!), I was dating K. I had chased after K for almost a year. We worked together, and from the moment I met him I was in lust (which looking back on it is so weird, seriously, K is not a guy one would lust after). After workin' it for months, finally, I got my man. K was 6 years older than me, which, if you're doing the math means I was 20 and he was 26. He seemed so old and worldly at the time.

We had been dating a few months when one night we had "the conversation". You know the one. The one where you stupidly disclose how many partners you've had. A conversation no woman should have with any man under any circumstances other than in the broadest of terms. "Are you a virgin?" "No." "Any diseases I should know about?" "No." "OK." I mean, in my opinion, this is as much conversation as one should have on this topic.

But back then I did not know this. I was 20 for God's sake. So when K asked, I answered. And I lied. (I brought the number down. I'd had an early start and I at least knew enough to lie.) Well, apparently I didn't bring the number down quite enough for K's liking. The conversation did not go well. I couldn't for the life of me understand why he was so mad. I mean all of it had happened long before I had ever met K. And, I reasoned, the past had made me the woman (ha! at 20?) I was and didn't that mean it was ok?

Apparently not.

K and I survived that night. But we didn't last too much longer. The lesson I learned that night has stayed with me until this day. Unfortunately though, by sharing that story with J I sort of opened a whole new can of worms.

As we were leaving the bar the other night, J asked me "the question". It seems that by sharing the K story I had piqued his curiosity. I was like a deer caught in headlights. I froze. Not knowing what to do, I told him. The truth. (Which you will never get out of me here, I'd like to keep some semblance of privacy, sort of. I think up until now only N knew the real truth.) And, honestly, J seemed ok with it. But of course, now I'm second guessing myself.

So, I'm throwing it out to all 4 of you who read this. Do you tell? And if you do, do you tell the truth? Or do you fudge your number?

Like Starting Over

J is finally back in town after a couple of weeks in Central America. We have a date tonight and I'm really looking forward to it. I'm all nervous. Having one date, then waiting two weeks for the next date, it's almost like starting at the first date all over again. What will we talk about? Will he find me interesting? Will I find him interesting? Is he as cute as I remember him to be?

I really like J, despite his morbid fascination with Tragic B and her Epic Quest for One Last Love. (I really ought to trademark that.) He's cute (if my memory serves me correctly) and witty, and seems so far to be a fairly normal guy (again, morbid fascination aside).

I mean, aren't we all kind of weird? Those of you who know me, even a little bit, know that I have my own idiosyncracies. For example:

• I prefer to use a certain set of towels for my shower. To the extent that I might put off showering if those towels are in the dryer, even though I have several other completely acceptable sets of towels to use.
• I am an early riser, but so not a morning person.
• I love Rice-A-Roni. It's the San Francisco Treat.

Anyway, I spoke with J this morning, and apparently he has not heard from Tragic B in a while. Hopefully we'll have a good time tonight and once he gets a second look at Healthy So Not Tragic (not even close) Moo, Tragic B will be but a distant memory.