I've been on hiatus trying and suceeding as a party planner. I might be the only person in the world that plans a surprise party for their sister's 30th birthday a month in advance, then waits until five days before the party to actually make things happen. Sure the guests had been invited, the food and theme had been brainstormed and the plan to get her out of the house was thought of, but nothing was purchased, printed, picked out or made until Sunday afternoon. And, the blown up childhood photos and giant poster boards full of embarassing pictures weren't constructed until the night before. The party was Friday.
But, of course, like most things in my life it all came together beautifully in my haphazard yet picky perfectionist of a procrastinator kind of way. I work well under pressure. Plus, I don't need much sleep. However, all I did last week was go to work then focus on party stuff. I'm not really sure if I even ate, though I feel like I'm starting to develop a bit of a beer belly since the only exercise I got was running in and out of stores and up and down the stairs of my parent's house from the computer to the living room.
It was all worth it after seeing the look of genuine surprise (and scared shitless-ness) on my sister's face when she walked in the door. The party horns were a good touch - loud and relentless. Lets just say the guest list was fairly large and mixed. Although I noticed that at least one person that RSVPed didn't show up even though about 90 percent of me knew he wouldn't show - my hot tub pal from Mexico. I'm sure he's found someone willing to rip their clothes off on the first date. It's his number one quality he looks for in a woman afterall. I'm officially done thinking about that.
We finished up the night with a trip to the new Power and Light District in downtown KC. After a 20 minute and 7 degree wait in line, we headed into Ragland Road, got a few drinks and then a few text messages from a guy I met in the area on Valentine's Day. After finding out we were in the same bar, I looked around a divider at the bar and found that we were standing all of 10 feet away from each other as well. For lack of a better word, he's nice. Nice and decent as far as I can tell, but so painfully vanilla. I can't help, but get the impression of "pansy ass" when talking to him, which is hideously mean because I'd much rather have a conversation with him than any of the select popped collar douchebags that seem to flourish wherever I go, but he lacks the confidence and humor I look for. While decent looking, there's nothing there. It's the equivalent to kissing my own hand. Plus, he owns a cat and drives a Buick. Yeah, I had to add in the little materialistic details that don't necessarily make or break, but just add in a red flag. We all have those and I'm just one of the ones that admits to it. I'm not sure how he feels, but perhaps a friendship will come out of it. Nothing more.
Here I am trying to fill this void in my life and I wonder how long it will go on. While distracted by the party planning this past week, the ex dropped a huge bomb on me - he's found somebody to take my place in the house. Then he offered to pay my last two months of rent as if he wanted me out of the house so bad that he was not only willing to live with a stranger, but pay more than $1,600. Then the best news of all came out. I asked who wanted to move in...long pause...someone, he says...who?...another long pause...a friend of a friend named Nicole. A woman? As if this wasn't shitastic enough, this just makes the wound even harder to heal. He says she's unattractive and fat - however his definition of such things are far off the "normal" scale. I voiced that I thought it was inappropriate to have another woman move in and that I couldn't understand why he would want to live with somebody he didn't know rather than me. I took it as a personal attack because he said she wanted to move in before our lease was up and I'm not prepared for that. I basically freaked out and cried the hideous cry the night he told me. Not because of the whole woman thing necessarily, but because it was actually happening. After threatening for so long and always having him protest, he was finally giving in and realizing that this living situation is completely dysfunctional and putting our lives on hold.
Though I've calmed down a bit now and he's explained that he's not doing this to be mean to me, it's still a blow to my happiness. My mom and I went apartment hunting yesterday. "A one bedroom" "just me and my little dog" I kept hearing myself say. Am I prepared for this? Do I honestly want to be doing this? God no, but I'm not sure what choice I have. It's horribly expensive and while my mom has offered to help me, there's another blow to my ego. My optimistic side is feeling excitement, a new start, but the rest of me is devastated. I thought this was it and now suddenly it's not. He asked me tonight, "are we doing the right thing?" And while I'm not completely sure, this might just be the key to knowing whether to salvage it or just let it go, by spending at least a year apart as friends or just dating maybe. "Whoever heard of that?" I'm sure most people are thinking, but if there's one thing I've gotten out of this relationship experience, it's that nobody else's opinion matters because they have no idea what goes on behind the scenes.
Now that the party is over - my big distraction - I'm back to worrying about the sticky spot in life I'm in right now. The relationship or the lack there of, the living situation, mixed feelings about being back in the dating world, more mixed feelings, financial worries and insecurities about the apartment hunt and of course the looming employment concern. There are no jobs and while highly qualified for the jobs I have applied for, nobody is making my phone ring. Am I stuck at this tiny newspaper that pays me in pennies and dimes forever? (insert nail biting and ominous music).
I'm going to try to focus on getting some side writing jobs started. It might again give me a distraction from my silent phone and the flaky men. On top of that, it's time to finish my organization projects, such as cleaning out closets and preparing to move, that I started pre-party planning frenzy. But, most of all, I need to begin making regular appearances at the gym again. Not only is this developing "beer belly" not helping my mental situation, but endorphines are far less expensive, habit forming and stigmatic than Prozac...Although the idea of investing in some "happy pills" remains on the back burner...