Face Plant to Freedom

So...um...yeah. Phoenix is sort of fucked up. I will spare you the play-by-play but here's the gist:

Last Saturday, after way too much inhebriation at a friend's party, Phoenix offered to walk me home. During the walk, some drunken slurs were made from both sides. Ultimately, he became downright nasty and mean. His behavior and his words actually scared me. It was as if he turned into some sort of vicious stranger.  He wound up leaving me to find my way, disoriented in the middle of an unfamiliar neighborhood, at two in the fucking morning. Who does that? Seriously. What kind of stand up man in his Thirties leaves his female friend to fend for herself, lost, at two in the morning?

In a way, I am relieved by it at this point. Though our conversations and bond appeared to be growing, we never became intimate so I do have that to be thankful for. And if I ever find myself struggling to divert my attention away from a particular someone, them behaving like a bipolar douche is sure to do the trick. I could sit here and over-analyze his every word, along with the drastic change in his behavior. But I really just don't care much. Anyone who can treat a person as awfully as that, is no person I care to get to know any better. I will admit that for me, there has been some awkwardness. I have been avoiding my regular haunt, as it is now his regular haunt as well. But that really isn't the end of the world either. For now, I need some distance from Phoenix. And not drinking so much (while saving a little bit of cash) isn't exactly a bad thing.

So, I'm free. And better off. For now.

Male Driven Insomnia

After spending nearly all of yesterday drinking entirely too much beer with Phoenix, we stumbled our way to our respective homes. Just minutes after I walked in the door, my text alert goes off. He is apparently not done with me for the evening. We exchange some friendly and flirtatious text banter for the next half hour or so, until I presume, he passed out. Lucky him, as my brain reeled for hours.

What should I wear when I see him next?  
Shit. I have so much cleaning to do before dinner on Wednesday. 
Ooh, perhpas I will make myself some new earrings by then. 
Wonder if he really is "off" with the girl in his old town? 
Goddammit.  Seeing him every day is really hindering my work out regimen.
Holy fuck.  I spend a lot of money having beer with him every day.
If I get butterflies from him hugging me, am I going to stop breathing when he finally kisses me?
I wonder if he drinks enough tequila on Wednesday, he won't want to do the twenty-block-walk home?

This internal dialogue went on until somewhere around 2 a.m. when I finally turned out the light, wrapped my arms around My Boy, and tried in vain to get some sleep. Yes, I have broken puppy training non-no #1. I have been letting My Boy sleep in bed with me. Due to his past reputation of chewing everything in the house, he is crated during the day, and until recently, at night while I sleep. But I'm a giant fucking softy.  What can I say? I feel guilty that he is in a crate for nine hour stretches and then stuck in there another seven overnight. I am also slowly trying to give him a bit of freedom and forcing him to cope with being around the tempting, chewy goodness of my shoes and computer cords, while not actually chewing them.

The problem is, My Boy is big. On one hand, having a big hairy being on my bed, helps me to not care so much about the big hairy being that isn't. Sometimes, his panting breath will lullaby me to a deep sleep. Last night was not one of those nights. Last night was a night of him laying perpendicular to me. Of kicking me in the face with his hind legs. Of him crowding the bed to where I woke with only one extremity still on the mattress. This is how I spent the little three hours of sleep I was trying to get.

I think these boys are trying to kill me.

It's Never That Simple

...but I am convinced there is nothing too much beer can't fix.

In my last post,I declared to the world that I was dropping my pursuit of Phoenix. Yeah, right. Two days after that, a group of us, including Phoenix, drank too much. It was the very first First Friday of summer in my small town. It is kind of a big deal. My town will take any excuse to party, even if it is something as simple as the first Friday of summer. We started at our usual happy-hour beer location and naturally, Phoenix showed his pretty head. He came right up to me before anyone else and did not leave my side the rest of the night.

Our group later found ourselves as part of the town party, streets barricaded and all. Of course, Phoenix and I were magnetically attached and after one (or two) too many beers, I flat out told him how much I love hugging him. He responded as if it were a challenge to see how much he could hug me in one night. My head was buried in his chest for much of the evening. I am not sure how we got on the conversation, but at one point, he mentioned something of a lady friend back home that he had been "on again, off again" with. Well, truth serum can be strong so the following conversation happened:

C: Can I ask you a question?
P: Of course.
C: Is your "on again, off again" thing the reason you have yet to make a move on me? Or are you just uninterested?
P: *Chuckle* It is definitely NOT that I am uninterested. I am very interested. And yes, that has been one reason. I talked to her when I went back home last weekend. She said she wouldn't commit to me so I should just start a new life here. But I am also slow moving at these things. And I am the new guy in town and you are the girl who knows everyone.
C: Okay, well we should hang out more then. Without our usual beer entourage. You know, have some pressure-free non-dates.
P: *Chuckle again* Yeah, I would like that.

And so it was. He walked me home that night, holding my hand. Rather than the usual stopping at the driveway to say goodbye, he wanted to come in to see and play with My Boy for awhile. We made plans to go out on Saturday (last night). We did. It was awesome. We also made plans for him to not only attend this week's community collaborative dinner at my abode, but also to contribute in it. In a few hours, we will be yet again, meeting at our usual spot. Still no kissing. Just holding hands and a lot of those wonderful, heart warming, hugs. I will take that.

End of a Pursuit

So I have been hanging out with Phoenix a few times a week for almost a month now.  And I have decided to drop my pursuit.  I am still crazy about him. But he has yet to take the bait. Really, this crush on him has proven more confusing every day. Like the desert climate, his affection for me can turn hot and cold in a matter of twelve hours.

Last week, he went on a road trip to get more of his belongings out of storage.  I did not expect him to be back until Monday of the long weekend.  On Sunday however, as a group of us were celebrating Robo's boyfriend's birthday over a BBQ, he shocked the shit out of me by appearing out of thin air just to my left.  My stomach turned with butterflies, the pounding in my heart could not be controlled, and as a my cheeks turned every shade of red, his lips curled into a smile that simply said "It is so good to see you."  He walked towards me and embraced me in the strongest and most comfortable hug I have ever felt.  His big arms fully engulfed me and his barrel chest was so solid.  In that moment, I felt safe and content.  Everything surrounding us disappeared. I felt deaf, as if the entire BBQ went silent at the sight of our reunion.  And perhaps it did. Mere moments later, a friends' husband walked up to us and laughingly told me to "wipe the shit eating grin" off my face.  I honestly missed this man in the five days I hadn't seen him.

This man that I have yet to kiss or even go on a proper date with. I actually missed him. Although the long drive had rendered him exhausted and as he said, comatose, he stayed at the BBQ long enough for one libation and to catch up on what that last few days had brought me. Perhaps that is one reason I am so smitten with Phoenix. Every time I see him, he asks about my day. And genuinely asks because he wants to hear. At the BBQ, he wanted to know everything, however menial, he had missed. When I asked of his trip, he did not really even care to elaborate more than "My friends wanted me to hang out one more night but I really wanted to come home.  I didn't even stop to rest."

Since the BBQ, I have seen Phoenix once for beers at our usual spot.  Tonight is a community collaborative dinner at my place. He is on the invite list and upon hearing about it, seemed thrilled. However, I have resolved if he doesn't make it, I am dropping my pursuit. Not to blow him off. But simply because I have thrown him much bait that he has yet to bite. When consoling my tears and helping my wonder if The Wrecking Ball would give up his addiction to continue his life with me, my Dad once told me "Men are simple. If he wants you, he will come get you. And he will do what it takes to have you." I am a firm believer in that. Every time I have ever made mental excuses for the behavior of men, I end up the pursuer and it never works out in my favor.

Sure, I have many wonderful friends that tell me "I have a good feeling about him", "He's just shy", "You might have to make the move".  But I just cannot bring myself to do more than I have. My original intention was to simply become friends with Phoenix. In which I have succeeded. He is now a member of my core group of friends. Because of that, I am afraid of a rejection that could result in awkwardness. So if friends is all it is, I have decided I am okay with that right now. Life was easier before I developed feelings for him. Time to free my brain and my heart onto inner pursuits. Besides, "just friends" can still give wonderful hugs.

Mass Consumption

I have found myself in a slippery slope as of late.  Between the constant distraction of trying to make Phoenix like me, the heartache of losing my dog, and the promise of impending summer, I have been majorly unproductive.  Instead of participating in one of my greatest joys and cooking for myself everyday, I have been eating out. (That might be because I haven't even bothered to go grocery shopping since putting My Girl down.)  Further, I tend to do this eating out after I've had one too many at the micro-brew stop.  Every damn day.  In the last few weeks I've gone to work hungover more times than I would like to admit.

Thus, I feel like a giant cow.  And not one of those cute, happy cows that make California Cheese.  A lazy, gross, cow.  Covered in flies and expelling methane gas. The cycle is familiar; I've been here before.  This shit leads to depression.  This version of myself is one I do not wish to reunite with.  This version of me is trapped, broke, tired, grumpy, paranoid, and not a fun person to be around.  This version needs to take a hike.  Literally.

 So today, I will make it through the last five hours of my hungover hell.  Starbucks and Del Taco will help me survive.  I will go home to snuggle My Boy.  Cook myself some real food.  Wake up tomorrow anew.  And if I go visit Phoenix for our happy hour, I'll do my damnedest to keep myself in check.  I need my friends to help keep me in line too.  To not let me go down that path.  I have  not yet strayed so far that I can't find my way back.

My entire adult life has been the familiar "1 Step Forward, 2 Back" routine.  Time to grow the fuck up and move on.

Struck by Lightning on a Clear Day

It is amazing what a difference a week can make.  Two Saturdays ago, I found myself at home after dinner with the parents, relaxing and blabbing on about how responsible I am. Fast forward seven whole days, and I'm taking shots of tequila with Trinity at my house, prior to taking more shots of tequila at the bar to commemorate Cinco de Mayo like the good Gringa I am.

Our itinerary of debauchery was well planned.  Through the course of about thirty emails last week, Trinity and I decided she would come to my town for the night.  She would meet me at our usual day-drinking micro brew spot before we ventured on to a sponsored block party our friend's band was playing.  Eventually, we would spend the rest of the night belting out Beastie Boys karaoke in memory of M.C.A.  Sounded like a great plan, one reminiscent of my earlier Twenties.  I only asked that I not wake up pregnant. We executed our plan fucking beautifully! Days later, we are still talking about how great it was to be so irresponsible for an evening.

Copious tequila shots were not my only irresponsible indulgence from the weekend though.  I have developed a crush.  A real, honest, omigodimsixteenagain, crush.  I have known Phoenix for a few weeks, as he is Robo's new neighbor.  He moved to my town less than two months ago, and is thus, the new (and yet to be tainted) guy in town.  Really?  A handsome man in my small mountain town that neither me or any of my friends have slept with?  Get the fuck out - I've hit a gold mine!  In all honesty, I wasn't thinking of him as a romantic partner when we met.  I know my group of friends can be a little clique-y, as if we are the cool kids on the playground.  So when I would see him venturing out on the town solo, I always made an effort to be friendly. 

However, the platonic nature of my feelings towards Phoenix came to a screeching halt this weekend.  As our quick greetings slowly started migrating to walking each other home, post happy-hour dinners, and spending hours on end with one another, people started to notice.  At first, I would respond to inquiries about our status with "It's not like that.  He's new here and I'm just trying to be friendly."  After many prods from my guy friend, Cowboy, I finally just said "Okay.  I admit it.  I have a HUGE crush on Phoenix."  I eventually let myself realize that as much as I try to fight it, I genuinely want to hang out with him.  Like, every fucking day.

At the present time, my little (or not so little) crush on Phoenix is just that.  There has been no holding hands, kissing, caressing, and certainly no fucking.  But our conversations have certainly drifted from just random "getting to know you" bullshit to more deep and meaningful things.  We talk about our families, our, pasts, our goals, our hopes for our futures, and most recently, what sort of things we like and dislike in relationships.  I feel that I may be sensing some mixed signals from Phoenix. We spend a LOT of fun time together, but his lack of physical forwardness confuses me into thinking that perhaps this attraction being mutual is a fleeting thought.  Cowboy on the other hand, says I have simply forgotten what it's like to be pursued by a gentleman: "Just because he hasn't tried to poke ya, doesn't mean he's not interested in ya.  Now gimme me a dip."

So now, here I am.  Obsessively checking my phone, tripping over myself when I hear it ring, asking Trinity to help me compose texts, and in general just over-analyzing every damn word or action I see from Phoenix.  How immature and irresponsible can I be?  But it sure is a lot of fun. Goddammit.  As I have said before, the last thing my life needs is a man to come around and fuck it all up.  My brain has more important shit to do.