Female Bonding

(holy crap - i have a blog follower!!)

Ahem. Sorry.

This weekend. I am so excited for work to be over and done with. Not for the usual reasons (stupid students, no-show parents scheduled for conferences, passive-aggressive AP), but because I am going out of town - by myself - to a sort of girls-only wildlife retreat.

Now, I know exactly what you're thinking: "Why, Stillie, this is asinine! You don't like people, much less women! How in the WORLD are you going to bunk with one for 2 whole nights? And why would you PAY to take a mini-vacation out in the wilderness with them?!"

Trust me. I asked myself the same exact thing. But there were a few factors that played into this.

1. I'm a member of a wildlife association, and this workshop is sponsored by them and I get a discount for being a member.
2. Many of the people with whom I volunteer over the summer will be there as instructors.
3. This gives me a chance to totally network my ass off, since this workshop is geared towards women who are either landowners or in the wildlife/habitat management industry, and that's where I'm trying to get to.
4. We get to have wine and cheese socials in the evenings.
5. It's being held at a really, really, really nice resort not too far out of my city.
6. It just adds to my knowledge base to (hopefully) help me obtain a position in a completely different field than I am currently drowning in.
7. I get to play. Outdoors. All weekend. And the weather's supposed to be fantastic (no rain, mid-70s all weekend). With no real schedule outside of our classes and workshops.
8. I'm turning off my cell phone. Ditto for the laptop. I'm not even taking the aircard, either.
9. Photography, photography, photography.
10. Fishing!

The thing is, I am really not too big on that whole female bonding thing. I've never really had anyone to debate tampon brands with. When my body finally started outward physical signs of maturity (at fucking 21!), there was no one I could talk to about what the hell was happening to me, and why it was like my body parts were made out of different tectonic plates that were shifting and relocating. But you know what? I figured it out. I made my peace with it. I am now a very loyal Playtex tampon consumer and I figured it out all by myself.

But I'm going into this with an open mind. Perhaps it won't be that bad. I'm pretty sure it won't end up like that scene from "Four Rooms" with the witches in the honeymoon suite or anything, but still...this kinda crap just ain't me.

I guess my biggest reason for wanting to get away is also to think about some things. I really need to get away from The Boy for a few days. I've been quite open about expressing my unhappiness in this relationship over the last few weeks, but he just doesn't seem to care. There hasn't been a single touch of affection in as long as I can remember. So, yeah, things need to change or end, and I have to figure out how to do it. And next weekend I'll be at Enchanted Rock (probably alone, but definitely with photog friends and maybe someone else) so I won't have to worry about him then, either.

I need to stop worrying about Scott. I'm sure y'all have guessed by now that I have not stopped talking to him at all. We're continuing to get to know each other again. We usually text throughout the day, talk in the afternoons, and he 'tucks me in' at bedtime. He tells me how much he loves me a lot (he even told me the other day that he remembered how important that was to me - to hear it often) and he's willing to take our re-acquaintance slowly. But as much as I would like to believe that he would be an answer to all my problems (even if only for a year or so, until he showed his true colors again, since he probably hasn't really changed), I know he can't be. Running away would totally work for a little while but, eventually, things would end with us and I'd have to find a new place to live (no more home ownership, of course), and probably have to come back here to rebuild my shitty-ass SE TX life. While the it could possibly be a move forward, the risk of it ending up badly would put me years behind where I am now. It would be a serious backslide.

Point being, I need to quit worrying about it right now. A weekend to have no contact with Bearers of Testicles may be a good thing. I would like to make myself remember that not everything in my life has to be about love, romance, sex, or men, and that I have enough substance to be enough, regardless of who's hanging on to my arm.

Shawty

This is going to be kinda short because I just realized how long most of my recent posts have been!

• Am I the only person who has been thinking that "FTW" meant something way different than "for the win?" I mean, in my social circles, the people who had "FTW" tattooed on their knuckles weren't winning anything except prison time.
• I've come to realize that the actual process of falling in love is like a drug - I am so addicted to it...
• My friend G told me the other day that I have a colossal fear of too much commitment and I need to get over it. She told me that The Boy is a fantastic man and I need to just relax and let it happen and forget about everyone else.
• I took my Jeep mudding on Saturday night. There was a special Halloween trail ride going on at this off-road park and it was lots of fun. Messy, but fun.
• Many years ago, I worked with a guy who was a rapper on the weekends. He was trying to 'make it big,' and he used to sing with a band. He used to call me "shorty," which, of course, came out sounding like "shawty" in his ghetto ebonics. I wonder what ever happened to him.
• This week is "Red Ribbon Week" at school. Today, the teachers gave out silicone wristbands that say "My Choice...A Drug Free Life." One of my students tried to stretch it big enough to put it on his head. It didn't fit, but it did pull out a ton of his hair and he was very upset about it.
• I am totally broke. I don't get paid until the 1st. And I'm going out of town this weekend. Hopefully my direct deposit will hit soon.
• I am currently talking to Scott right now while typing. His voice is intoxicating and I really, really miss him, despite what my better judgment is telling me.
• He went to a drag race this weekend and won the contest for the fastest street car.
• I really, really miss being in the car industry. Before I went back to school, I was working in a machine shop and was learning how to build race motors. I went to the track every Friday night. I was building my own race car. I hung out with car people and got to work on cars at the track and learned so much. I SO miss that.
• I haven't had sex in over 2 months now. The Boy has no interest, we have no kind of intimacy, and I really can't live without it. I really want to try to make this work, but it just isn't going to.
• My job gives me a headache. Every day, by the end of the day, I have a stress-related headache, aspirin or no. It sucks. I'm fine over the weekends. But Monday...it all happens so quickly. I feel horrible.

Well, I'm done for now. Sorry for the bullets, but I'm sure you prefer that, huh?
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I'm So Juicy

My wardrobe consists of clothing that is gray, black, and...well...gray. I may have a few sweaters or Columbia PFG shirts of different colors, but I'm mostly a monochromatic kind of person. The joke about wearing black only until they come out with something darker...yeah. That's me. It's not that I'm all gothic or emo (two terms i despise, btw), it's just that gray and black go with everything, and it always looks good.

So imagine how proud of myself I was when I went to the Columbia Outlet store near The Boy's house and found a pair of khaki linen pants on sale for $9! In my size! I thought, "Wow, Stillie...you're stepping outside your comfort zone and you'll look good doing it. People will SHIT when the see you in khaki-colored pants!"

I'd already picked out the shirt I would wear with the aforementioned pants, and I was all revved up and ready to go to work. I was worried about wrinkles, but since The Boy was still in bed and I didn't want to wake him up, I only turned on my closet light and looked at myself in the mirror on the outside of the closet door. I looked good!

Some of my co-workers did double-takes, but nobody said anything. I was perfectly happy with that, to be honest. (I wore a skirt one time and everyone made a big deal out of it. So I never did again. There was a reason I wore it and it would probably get me fired or thrown in jail, so I'll just stop there.) And as the day wore on, I sorta forgot I'd even put on different clothes than usual.

My 7th period is rowdy and although they piss me off royally, we have a special kind of relationship. I turned my back to the class to write on the board. That's usually when they come up with their most off-the-wall, off-topic, bizarro questions.

"Miss...you shop at Juicy Couture?" one of my little Hispanic girls in the front row asked. Her voice had that sort of surprised and disturbed tone to it.

"Yeah. I do go there on occasion. I really only buy a couple of things there. Why? Can't I shop at Juicy? You think I'm too old?"

"Of course you can shop there, it's just that...well...I don't know. It seems kinda weird."

"Yeah, well...don't freak out if you see me squeezing oranges in the produce section of a grocery store too, okay? I am a human with dietary needs." I am always sarcastic and kinda brazen with them; it's our game. And that kind of shut them up. And we went on talking about why spell check doesn't always work.

(my sentence is "Their is know weigh this is write" and I put it on the board to point out why spell check doesn't work. it's a good lead-in.)

It never occurred to me to ask them why they knew I shopped at Juicy.

So the day is over and I'm walking out of the building. The hot male janitor is behind me. (We used to have a thing, right after I got separated. Dick was way too big. It was useless to me.) I'd waved as I went past him, and he began walking in my same direction.

"Hey, there, stranger. I guess you've been too busy to talk after work, huh?" That was our usual time to flirt, way back when.

I slowed up and let him catch up. "Kinda. You know how it is. Administration changes always bring back-breaking work for the competent."

He shoved his mop in my direction. "Yeah. Tell me about it..." He was quiet a second and then said, "So. Is there ever a chance we might be able to..." his voice trailed off and I was pretty sure I knew where that was headed.

"I don't know. I mean, you know The Boy's living with me and we're pretty serious..." I know he's seen The Boy's pictures. For God's sake, he dusts my desk.

"I know about him. But I sure would love to pull your Juicy panties off of you with my teeth. I just loved your body..."

At this point, I knew that two mentions of Juicy Couture in one day was no mere coincidence. I mean, I am so anti-girly that it's not even funny, so it was really very troubling that this happened.

But, as per usual with me, as soon as he wandered off and I started yakking on my cell phone, everything else was forgotten.

I got home and went straight to the bathroom to brush my teeth after a particularly nasty, flat swig of Dr. Pepper from an old bottle in the refrigerator. I just happened to look up and saw, from the 360 degrees of mirrors around me, so very clearly: "ERUTUOC YCIUJ" in a half-circle shape on my ass, only slightly obscured by my new Columbia khaki linen pants.

All day. Everyone. Suckage.

Lesson: Do NOT pick out panties in the dark and then survey your fully dressed appearance in the semi-dark on a new pair of pants' maiden voyage! EVER!
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