Caterwauling

The real reason that I think I am not into Phil, quite frankly, is because my mind was wandering on Friday night. Who was I thinking about? You guessed it … Brat.

I was wishing that I were looking across the table into green eyes, not brown ones. I was reliving the previous Friday night, remembering that the next morning, he made me breakfast. And even if Brat were the remotest bit interested in me, he didn’t make a single move. I think, if Brat might have the same feelings for me that I have for him, he is smart. He knows that I require a bit more effort than the average woman. I’m tired of games, no question about that, but courtship is a dance. When someone just puts it out there that he is interested (like Phil does), I think it’s cute and I get bored. With Brat, I am guessing and subsequently, my own interest is intensifying. It will be a real letdown if this is only one-sided. But I will live.

It is the series of memories and dreams involving Brat that keeps me alive. While I may never truly get over CH and the abortion, I thinkt that what has kept me going through these very difficult past few months was the promise of a tomorrow with a wonderful man. I hope Brat is that man. I have never met anyone like him. And I don’t think I will again, if I were to let him go without a fight.

That Friday at the Creekhouse, he gestured for me to walk in front of him. He always does that. Always holds doors for me, even if I opened them and told him to go through before me (never would he do that, but I wouldn’t think it wrong, if ever he did). Always insists that I go first up the stairs or in the hallway, when we can’t walk beside each other. There are so many instances of chivalry that I have noticed. Finally on Friday, I looked right at him and told him that I wasn’t quite used to being treated so well … that he has real manners. He looked squarely in my eyes and replied that his mother taught him well. I replied that, yes, she did.

Judy was just thrilled by the stories I was telling her last night. She loved how he offered to drive me home because Colin was acting goofy; she fawned over his concern that Maddie needed to be fed; and she absolutely gushed over the comment about his mom. Said that he’s clearly a wonderful man, and she wishes that I can have him as a permanent fixture in my life. Said I deserve somebody like him. Said she loves him more and more, with every story that I tell. And that he gives credit to his mother, well, that clinched it for her. Said I’ve got to love a man who loves his mother.

(In Steve-o’s case, he loved his mother and was seeking a girlfriend to take the place of his mother, so I won’t jump on that one! But I do see her point — Brat was truly brought up right.)

One other story that made Judy happy (oh, and me, too!): On Monday, we had a leadership meeting (read: public humiliation debacle) in scenic downtown Homewood (yay gang violence). At lunch, Brat and CTL and I met outside to eat and smoke together. Brat stood up and said he was going inside and wondered if we needed a drink. CTL said no, and I said yes. When he came back, he handed me a cup and said apologetically, “It’s not sausage and eggs.”

Sausage and eggs, of course, is what he had made me for breakfast only two days before.

So I said gently, “Next time.” I also said it with certainty, with expectance.

CTL asked what we were talking about. Practically in unison, we said, “Nothing.” And we shared a little smile.

Anywho, I find Brat to be such a fascinating individual. And he is the challenge, the intellectual equal and opponent I desire. He’s up on world events, he remembersmy stories and he has plenty of activities and stories of his own to contribute. I find myself being mesmerized by him.

Even when we are together and not saying a word, I am happy. And whether we are 10 feet apart or within two inches of each other, I can feel him. I want him to be aware of me, to feel incomplete without me. And if he is already, I want him to realize it.

Perhaps it’s the sincerity in his eyes that draws me to him. I don’t know. Mom used to say that when J.O. and I were in photos together, we both lit up around each other. At any rate, I know what she meant — that we were so close and so attuned to each other that we blossomed around each other, so much that it was visible in our eyes. Are my eyes glowing when I see Brat? I have no doubt about it. I know that, when I look into his eyes, I feel so calm yet so excited all at once. And even when he is having a miserable day at work (by the stories he tells, and given our environment, miserable days are to be expected), when he looks at me, he seems OK. I always wish I could make it better for him, and I always tell him that. And I sincerely would like to take away any unpleasantness in his life — if I could kiss it all away and be his source of happiness, I think I would be content on so many levels, for a long time to come.

And that’s just a scary admission for me to make. “Forever” isn’t really a word that I utilize in my vocabulary. And I’m not ready to integrate it just yet, either. But I’m willing to think about it.

But we hav so much in common. From religion (the lack of it) to music (rock and alternative), we never run out of things to talk about. And maybe, just maybe, if we would ever find a gap in the conversation, perhaps we can occupy our lips in another way!

And so the dreams continue. …

Went out with Phil on Friday. Second date. He seems to think this is going really well … as if I have girlfriend potential or something. I don’t know. He’s very nice, has paid for dinner both times, and seems genuinely interested in me. Had to fight him off, of course, to keep him from coming up to my place. Even though I am on the Pill now and my body is adjusting somewhat to the recent trauma it has experienced, I am in no rush to get into a sexual relationship with anyone, let alone someone I don’t know if I want in my life for very much longer.

I feel like such a bitch, but he just makes me nuts. Reminds me way too much of my nitwit ex Steve. (Incidentally, I just pitched all of my old Steve-o memorabilia … the ex-files, if you will.) Looks at me so darn adoringly (we used to call it “ooking” with Steve — rhymes with “kook”), and I suppose if I returned the interest, I would think it was sweet. On the first date, I thought it was cute, and I also thought it was cute how he would put his hand across the table, hoping I would reach for it. He kept doing that on Friday, and I kept withdrawing and lighting up cigarettes so that my hands would be busy. Ugh. What is wrong with me? I have been so pissed for so long because I couldn’t find a good guy. I’ve been wanting a relationship for a long time, and here is one, staring me in the face, and all I feel is pity for this man who seems to think I can be the love of his life.

He laughs nervously when I look at him. Again, I let it slide initially, but already it irritates the shit out of me. And in true Dawn form, I asked him if I intimidate him. He did that stupid laugh and said no. I didn’t believe him — why else does he giggle so crazily when he looks at me, when nothing is being said? I told him it’s okay, that it amuses me that I intimidate people (he’s certainly not the first), but if people are so insecure that they let me bully them, then I think it’s funny, because I am usually pretty harmless.

Like I said, he was offended, but it was in response to a comment that I will detail later. Furthermore, if he weren’t easily intimidated (even though he seems to think he isn’t), then he would have found a way to put me in my place. The opportunity for a challenge for my tired mind went unrecognized … by him. Damn it — that could have been an easy way to keep me amused.

(Sidenote: When Phil was in the restroom, I called Chris K.’s cell phone and announced that I was bored out of my wits. We were supposed to get together later in the night, but it never happened, and my call was to check up on him and Judy and to find out when they could possibly bail me out.)

After the first date with Phil, I was okay with the way things went, but I don’t think I would have cried if he didn’t call me again. In fact, I was rather proud of myself for not fucking him, as is my ritual. Typically, I figure that I should find out right away if he’s a good enough lay to keep him around, but since my abortion, I figure that it is my right as well as my choice to wait, to save myself for someone who will be worth it. Not that fucking CH, in and of itself, wasn’t worth it — I had a great time with him,b ut I need someone who is going to be around if I want him to be around. CH can’t give me that. However, I think Phil would be more than happy to stay around,b ut I also feel that if I do give it up for him, I won’t be able to rid myself of him (and it would be the whole Steve-o pattern again).

Phil made the MISTAKE of saying, early in the date, that after our first date, he really had me pegged as a complete airhead. (?!?!) He said that he was pleased to learn that I was an intellectual, that I am a lot smarter than my initial impression. Chris K. is literally ready to hunt him down and beat some sense into him — Chris told me that there are many names that I can be called, but airhead isn’t one of them. If anything, I am way too smart for nearly everyone who crosses my path. (Yay Chris! I love that guy!)

I disagree with the last part of his statement, although not entirely. I told Phil that there is no need for me to discuss the world economy or how to solve the energy crisis in California. I informed him that while everyody else is watching movies and reading the National Enquirer, I’m reading books and keeping up on world events and am constantly trying to expand my knowledge of anything and everything. I know that I intimidate people with my brainpower, and on the first date, all I am out to do is see if this person can carry on a conversation and to learn more about them personally. It’s the second date where I pull out the political diatribes and see if I’ve found a worthy opponent.

And that’s the thing … he seems to think that he’s my intellectual equal. I can say that I do NOT believe that. And that’s what I want, more than anything. An equal, an opponent, a challenge. I do not find that in him, at least, not from what I have seen so far. He could end up being the love of my life, for all I know. But right now, I won’t venture down that road … because it’s probably a short road, from the looks of it.

Chris always says that it’s pointless to play with an unworthy opponent. He reminded me of that sentiment yesterday. Furthermore, Chris is still pissed about the airhead comment, even though Phil qualified it that he has certainly changed his mind. I had told Chris that I walked away from Date One with the feeling that Phil wasn’t the smartest condom in the case, and Chris said that after Date Two, Phil has only served to validate my initial impression.

My summary on Phil: great guy, good intentions, nice looking (Italian!) and seems to care about me. On the other hand, I don’t think he listens to me (I told him that on Date One), although he made it a point to announce on Date Two that he remembered my fondness for Bon Jovi, punctuated with the comment of, “See? I really do listen!” He shouldn’t have to TELL me that he listens … he should work a lil harder to prove it!

For instance, I told him on Date One that I do not like Friday night outings because I am tired by the time I arrive. And especially, I hate going straight from work to a date because I think everyone should go home and freshen up, and that would also break up the workday from the playtime much more effectively. I asked him if he felt funky from not going home to get ready. He said no, but after I shot him one of my famous (patented!) death glares, he agreed with me. (Note: I at least freshened up at work — even though I knew he wasn’t getting laid, I washed my coochie, freshened the deodorant and updated the hair/makeup/perfume just so I could feel good, but I could tell that he literally jumped out of his chair and raced down the street to see me — he was slightly disheveled and could have smelled better.) Whatever. At any rate, I reiterated that teh only way I can last on a Friday night is to go home, rest and jazz myself up, and then go out around 9 or so.

Did he listen? We will see, when and if he calls for Date Three. And as far as I am concerned, No. 3 is Make-or-Break-Date. But I do know that is difficult because neither of us has a car, so it’s not like I feel like traveling by bus to hang out. But why can’t he ask me out for a Saturday afternoon or Sunday morning? Oh wait. He goes to church. Ugh. Definitely NOT my cuppa tea!!!

Mom thinks I am being WAAAYYY too hard on him. First of all, she knows how hurt I was by CH and his apparent interest in forgetting what happened to us, particularly the suffering that I eventually incurred. So she (and some others) wonder if I am punishing Phil for getting scorched so badly a few months ago.

I don’t necessarily believe that. The only impact that my abortion has had, as far as Phil is concerned, is that I don’t feel I have to fuck him if I don’t love or desire him. (Per the old “Seinfeld” episode, he’s not “spongeworthy”!!!) And I don’t even have to love him — I just don’t want to reproduce with him. I wouldn’t have minded having CH’s baby. It would have been beautiful and brilliant, and I had enough love in my heart for CH at the time to understand that he couldn’t be a full-time father. And at that time, I thought he even might have come around eventually. But then we look at my own father, who hasn’t come around in 27 years, so I couldn’t fool myself into thinking that CH wouldn’t follow suit, and I didn’t want a daughter as disappointed in her father as I was in mine.

Oh well, back to Phil. With the whole airhead issue, the likelihood of him getting a third date is relatively slim, and anything else is out of the question. Read the next entry to discover why. …