A Quarter Life Crisis

It’s funny I’ve been going through one of the rockiest emotional moments I can remember. I would say even rockier than when I finally lost the Future Ex Husband. And even though I’ve never told the story about the Future Ex Husband and it is a story I didn’t feel as much a failure as I’ve felt lately. With him I just felt numb. A long time passed before I rubbed the numbness out of my veins. It never occurred to me that we wouldn’t be married living as the modern day Huxtables even though our relationship was a seesaw of together and apart.

Failure is my greatest fear. Don’t try to break into any of my accounts because you now know one of my security question answers. I fight against failure every day. This is part of the reason I did so well in school and ultimately do well professionally. I refuse to do anything but well, I repeat refuse. This is not in a childish get mine before someone can get theirs type of thing I just put in 200% at all times. It has paid off very well for me. I have a work ethic that most don’t, in particular those of my generation, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. I delay personal gratification at the expense of excelling professionally.

And I do this intentionally. I deal well in a world where I can be emotion-less. Work requires attention but it doesn’t require vulnerability. It doesn’t have to see me stripped bare to love and ultimately reward me. With the Future Ex Husband I was totally exposed and open and vulnerable but in the end it didn’t work. And when it was over I played the What If game for years about what should have could have been. Eventually I accepted that in life you will have growing moments and losing the Ex was one of mine.

Losing the Future Ex Husband taught me a correct yet emotionally isolating lesson about love, in order to avoid pain you can’t get in too deep. And this lesson grew and took hold as the result of the groundwork paved by a troubled childhood that witnessed dysfunctional love. Every guy after the Ex, I held at a distance. It wasn’t necessary to divulge all things about me because I wasn’t going to be around long enough for it to matter. Whenever I bored or at the first sign of trouble I ended things…sometimes abruptly others with slow fades but never ever on someone else’s terms. I shielded my heart well and escaped those men painlessly and unscathed. Always looking back on my time with them as yet another life experience but never a true relationship. I’d tried a relationship and it didn’t work, mistakes are to be learned from and not repeated.

Not recently! The Spaniard caught me in the middle of a perfect storm. I’d just gotten settled into the consultant game. And by settled I mean figured out the circus and began falling into the petty politics. My family was in the midst of crisis...not uncommon but I was truly emotionally raw from losing my Pop-Pop. And to add insult to injury 21 Jump Street shattered a 7-year friendship and any hopes of a courtship with the live in girlfriend bomb. In the midst of that train wreck unassuming genuinely nice guy walks in and provides a much-needed outlet.

He wasn’t trying to solve any of my ish because that’s what I’m good at, solving ish. He was just there, if I needed to laugh or shout or naked mambo talk or whatever with no agenda. He didn’t want anything from me and that was a relief. It seems that everyone in my life wants something from me and it was nice for once that someone didn’t need my advice, time, money, car, opinion, guidance and the list goes on. I found comfort there.

And even though I outwardly fought against the idea of coupling up with him I took a tiny leap of faith outside of my comfort zone into a relationship with the Spaniard. It felt right at the time. But when it ended, it ended badly. I felt deceived. I felt abused and I felt like the person who originally didn’t want anything from me was a fraud. The one person who was supposed to above all others not want to hurt me stabbed me with a rusty steak knife and left me to bleed out in the streets. And as much as I wanted to gouge out his eyes for being a liar and a whole lot of other things I was more enraged with myself. Me, the person who writes people’s stories accurately within an hour of meeting him couldn’t see through The Spaniard’s veneer. Failure her name is Faith.

Or at least that’s how I felt. I masked that feeling most of the summer with the madness of dating random boys. It was fun but came tumbling to a halt with one text message. A message that unearthed those buried feelings of self-rage slapping them to the surface and forcing me to deal. My preference isn’t to deal. As I mentioned emotion-less environments suit me well.

They say the ones who hurt us the most are the ones closest to us…do you believe that?

But anyway it’s my birthday and I’m going to table this rambling for now…

Side note: Are you an emotion bottler or a wearer of your feelings on your sleeve?

Over the weekend I took a big girl pill. Seriously I swallowed that bad boy whole with no chaser…wait that’s a drinking analogy…you will get where I’m going shortly. So if you remember on Thursday the electricity mysteriously went out in my apartment. Unknown to me at the time, it was a total power outage on the block so I sauntered into work on one of the higher levels of pissed-off-ness. In particular because my lovely landlord didn’t feel it necessary to return my frantic calls, biotch!

In any event by mid morning (10AM) the problem was solved. I wanted to check my produce, you know just give them the once over to make sure they were still in fact fit for consumption. The Little Brother was under the weather so I needed to bee-line it home because he was in no state to sub for me. Insert The Spaniard stage left. Of late, I have been doing the slow fade, sort of well you know my issue. Anywho I ask him to give me a lift to my apartment after my webinar midday. He agrees with little coercion. This should have been the sign.

When he picks me up he asks if I need to go straight home. Considering my pit stop in the middle of his day I said that I was perfectly fine to make a quick run with him before he carried me home, I mean it was the least I could do. As we pulled up outside of the lawyers office The Spaniard said that he was dropping some papers off and needed to speak with the attorney about his mother’s visa.

Once inside the office I take a seat in the waiting room, you know how I feel about the mother situation, and I didn’t feel there was a need for me to be present while he spoke with the lawyer. Instead of letting me sit and chit chat with the receptionist he insists that I join him in the conference room. Why not, I go in, take a seat and only half listen while he and the attorney converse about this and that.

Attorney: This section is N/A, correct?

The Spaniard: What section, what are the questions?

Attorney: Marital status, date of wedding, spouses name etc etc etc.
(At this point my ears perk up a bit as I sense some hesitation in The Spaniard’s voice.)

The Spaniard: Uh, well no. I am married.

Now if I were a different person the bottlenecking, eye rolling WTFs would have started but that ain’t my way. As I mentioned I don’t go there. I did however turn toward him with a look just short of if I had a bat I would club you. Clearly the attorney has seen this look before. Not to mention he had that she’s a nicely dressed whore glint in his eye.

Attorney: Oh I see…well if you and she need to talk, I don’t know what kind of relationship you two (pointing at me) have…

Me: We (pointing at myself and The Spaniard) don’t have anything to talk about, we don’t have a relationship. (I believe I said that calmly although I imagine the tone was rather curt.)

The Spaniard did a half turn toward me but I guess me mouthing don’t say shit too me cued him that it was probably best to finish his dealings because clearly this wasn’t the time nor the place to discuss this matter.

Ironically around about this time I presumed the camera crew with overly hair gel host would jump from behind a fichus and scream something cliché like tell her what’s she’s won for participating Johnny…oddly enough it didn’t happen.

After dotting some more i’s and crossing t’s we walked out of the office. Immediately he began with the explanation which I just didn’t want or need to hear. I said completely emotionless as I’d already detached myself from the situation during the walk downstairs that he needed to take me home. No I didn’t want to hear about his on paper marriage, how it was just to get his citizenship and he was gonna tell me when the time was right, and the look at me when I’m telling you this, princessa por favor crap….just take me home before I get out and catch a cab.

Most days I hate driving in silence but somehow it felt oh so appropriate. So big girl pill swallowed, sometimes those signs of God really sting.

And that would make it official folks, The Spaniard sailed off the island, no life jacket and no preserver never to be seen or heard of again. If I speak his name or mention him I want someone to smack the eff’n taste out of my mouth, literally!

What a way to start the weekend, right. So how about Sunday, yes we bowled to victory yet again. We are now standing as the team to beat. I say shirts are in order. Granted this is a novice league and I guess getting a trophy in a novice league is tantamount to winning honorable mention at the science fair but I take winning where I can. And really we are relatively decent to be beginners.

While bowling it up, 21 Jump Street saunters into the alley. Nurse Friend spied him from the corner of her eye as he sat on the bench waiting patiently for who I presume was his date. Was I wrong for walking up and saying hi? Was I wrong for thinking (and laughing with my friends) that his date isn’t as cute as me? OK I wasn’t wrong I was petty, high school making fun of the misunderstood rejects petty. I admit it. It was juvenile and stupid but in my defense my weekend was pretty shitty and I needed a pick me up.

I caught him staring at me during his frames….alas he is already off the island.

So by mid-summer it appears The Spaniard forfeit the game leaving Mailroom Boy a clear opening to slide home and take the glory…but wait is there someone looming in the background to pick up where The Spaniard left off……

So I caved…..but it was calculated and intentional. 21 Jump Street (because he’s a p***y) texted me and said we needed to talk. My only assumption he’s so vain he probably thinks that Facebook message was about him, and it was so I guess he was right.

Anywho he texts and says he thinks we need to clear the air, get things out on the table and just discuss “us.” When did an “us” develop, I must have been watching commercials or something. My gut reaction was to let it slide, ignore the text message and move far far away from the past. But the idea of not confronting him bubbled in my stomach totally nauseating and I thought I’d probably earl if I didn’t say something (that was a ridonkulously gross analogy I’m just saying).

When he said let’s go to a relatively swanky restaurant on the main line I couldn’t very well pass up the opportunity to make his pocket’s bleed. I figured a five course meal is a great parting gift considering his lying ways. The Best Friend said that she was proud and overjoyed I never played naked twister with him but I know that was her perverted way of saying she’s glad he didn’t really get behind the walls and hurt me.

At least this is what I think she meant because sometimes she is just talking about sex, hey to know her is to love her, digressing!

He showed up exactly six and one half minutes later than his expected time which was a touch irritating because he’d already pushed back our pre-arranged meeting time due to “making a run.” Everyone knows I don’t operate on colored people time, it pisses me off. If he was picking me up this probably would have gone a lot worse since I hate waiting idly for someone dressed and ready but nowhere to go. Luckily Nurse Friend allowed me to talk her ear off while I waited and watched the valet drive people’s fantuboulsy expensive cars.

Avoiding the pick me up drop me off thing was a good call on my part besides that’s too date-like and then there would be some awkwardness at drop off, do we hug it out like old friends do I slam the door and just run up the stairs, far too many possibilities! Considering this was a drain his wallet and tell him about himself mission there was no reason to facade this up with dating actions. Besides if it turned narsty riding with him home wouldn’t be an option. Although he’s not the CB (Chris Brown) type or is he, obviously I don’t know him as well as I thought hence this whole “discuss us” rendezvous.

In any event we were seated rather quickly (it must be the recession being able to get a table on a Friday with no problems). At first conversation stalled. I didn’t really want to be there and I was under the table texting The Spaniard, so wrong but such as life!

Mid way through dinner it became obvious that 21 was never gonna address the “us” he referred to in the text nor the wool he attempted to pull over my eyes so again it appeared I had to lead the horse to water with a few prodding questions. The most important being how his grandmother was doing. He said that she’s ok and asks about me all the time. Moms and Grandmas totally heart me except one but that might have something to do with a certain living room table situation whatever! I proceeded to ask if he was staying in her house since moving her to the home to which he got a little defensive and said something like he told me this before that he’s living with a “friend.”

And by friend you mean girlfriend, right?

No not it’s not like that….I mean when we moved in together we were just cool you know homies but after a bit things started happening and we starting kinda seeing each other for a minute. But now you know we not together like that no more but I can’t just break my lease you know what I’m saying.

Yeah I hear what you’re saying doesn’t mean I have to agree, like or be a part of it. I don’t think it’s possible for two people of the opposite sex to live together unless one is gay or they are related. You’re whole “situation kinda proves my point as you say you were “homies” before co-habbing and some way slipped into a relationship.

But it’s a three bedroom house we have our own floors.

What does that mean exactly…there are common areas I’m sure, so how does it work when one of you has company? Just knowing you I’m sure you don’t like walking into your living room seeing a half naked men chilling watching sports center?

You have a point but my apartment is great, I can’t see moving out besides we still cool even though we not together, and believe me I would never ever go there again with her.

Yeah….ok, whatever.

And that’s where we left that, never really discussed the “us” because there is no us. The Little Brother said never burn bridges so I guess me and 21 are still semi friends but his attempted resurrection back into the possibly more than friends zone fell flat.

Jump Street did text me to see if we could hang out this weekend but the Spaniard filled his place…..oh oh oh muy caliente!!!

Earlier I decided that I was gonna post about Barbie (that bad ass tattoo having harlot). But then I said to myself, Faith (because I use my formal name when I talk to myself) pretty much every humoblogger will have something to say about that hussy so I figured I’d make good on my promise to post about 21 Jump Street leaving the island.

Disclaimer: This is gonna be a long one boys and girls settle in and enjoy!

It’s official! If I believed in sad song funerals we could play this but we all know I throw parties ( in my head celebrating the person’s life) when folks pass so chew on this oldie but goodie! After not snooping The Nurse Friend and I stumbled upon some interesting information about 21. Let me give you some back story first.

21 and I have known each other since my freshman year in college. A backstabbing bitch former friend introduced him as a guy she was at the time dating which is girl linguisticals for think of him as fugly because he is way off limits! An almost lawsuit later I learn that former friend (after graduating and running into 21) and 21 Jump Street never dated and he was in no way ever interested in her. Quite the contrary he kept coming around because his compadres took a liking to former friend’s chicas. Not to mention that former friend actually told 21 (when he asked about me) that I was dating Male Nurse Friend.

WTH, that cock blocking gremlin!

Anywho after that chance meeting, a few years back 21 and I started hanging out but our “status” was in constant flux. Were we friends, more than friends play cousins….you get my drift. I mean I even made this boy plates of food, what the hell was I drinking? OK I admit to the 15yr old girl crush but like I said when I met him he was off limits so I pushed it down and it kinda felt awkward letting it out.

Fast forward a little, The Best Friend said I should just hop on his face, she’s nasty like that but what she met was I should tell him how I felt. It’s funny with guys I truly like there’s a constant rejection fear that impairs my actions. Of course I let the moment pass and little by little we just stop speaking or more accurately fell off speaking regularly. We would send an occasional text, which I guess in retrospect was our (both 21 & I) way of reminding the other that there was something “else” there.

We never discussed this infamous else, ever!

Then Nurse Friend and I plan the New Years Eve soiree. No need to dwell on the details I was off my asscotch drunk. Needless to say 21 actually swung by with his rag tag group of friends. Designer Jeans took a liking to The Nurse Friend and I spilled my guts to 21 about years of crushing to which he reciprocated. Jackpot, cue this song.

After getting the monkey off my chest I was fine to let it lie. Truly I was, remember at the start of the year I started seeing Jersey Boy. It was short lived and rightfully so but at the time I was seeing someone else. Suddenly the text messages start flowing from 21, the bomb shell text that sealed the deal was his phantom, I miss you! I thought, Faith it could happen this time, the good Lord puts people in your life for a reason or a season.

At the same token I was cautious, and it didn’t hurt that I was on assignment for work in Chicago for several weeks so there was little that I could do anyway. I’m home by Valentine’s Day. Nothing special but we hung out along with Nurse Friend and Designer Jeans. It was nice, I smiled. But I told Nurse Friend that something was off, outside of the lbs he’d gained since I’d actually seen him last (can’t count the soiree as I was drunk and mildly in heat or so I am told).

She agreed there was something rotten in Philly. Again I wasn’t that phased because in between 21’s randomness I met the greatest most sexalicious Spaniard this world over on my way to the airport, remember I was on assignment in Chicago. And of course there was Mailroom Boy (did I mention he is winning so many cool points these days).

Let me set the stage here I am honest with everyone, no one is under the impression I am seeing him exclusively, alrighty back to 21’s Demise.

In the past week or so I started up a social networking page. With any social networking page you search out and seek those you know to add as friends. Well of course I am going to add 21 among others. Wonderful, the first thing I noticed which I thought was slightly odd, 21 doesn’t have his relationship status showing. Of course he doesn’t have his political or religious views showing either so this could be nothing, again female overanalyzationism taking over. I move on.

A few days later, I’m online and decide to rummage through friends' pictures. Believe me no intentions of snooping here folks, that’s not my way. In general I am pretty direct. I run across a picture on his page with the caption that makes a reference to 21 Jump Street being someone’s boyfriend. Picks up her imaginary detective hat and badge Letting my fingers be the guide I click away to this person’s page. There’s another picture which clearly references him as this girl’s boyfriend. Interesting!

Later that night I enlist The Nurse Friend. She loves this kind of stuff. After some clever page skimming she uncovers that not only is he boo-ed up he is in fact a live in boo. Cue the violins people the ship is sinking!

My lesson, even nice guys can lie. I thought we were at least better friends than this, and minus my drunken night he came after me.

Side note, what does one say to his girlfriend in order to leave their mutual dwelling to be with someone else on New Year’s Eve and Valentine’s Day…….

Oh the icing on this cake after posting my status on the social networking site stating even nice guys lie, 21 thinks we need to have a face to face conversation, dare I say about what LMAO!!!!!!!

Happy Valentine’s Day, well Happy Belated Valentine’s Day to all my readers. Hopefully the holiday brought you all the love your mind can understand and your heart can hold. For me, the holiday brought clarification and confirmation.

Let me run through the quick list of usual suspects. 21 Jumpstreet failed to respond to my general text message to everyone wishing him or her a Happy Cupids’ Day. The Spaniard was ever so attentive and since we had plans tentatively schedule the day after V-Day and things are new I didn’t feel I should burden him with the whole holiday superficial stuff. Mailroom Boy did respond with a short but sweet Happy Valentine’s Day, Faith. I considered this the olive branch since I demolition derby-ed his lunch date Friday.

Sometimes work trumps pleasure, Momma’s bills must get paid!

Officially I was Valentine-less. But even being without a Valentine wasn’t going to deter me or Nurse Friend from celebrating the superficial joy the season has to offer. The Best Friend was being a bit of a sour puss which I guess is to be expected given the recent break-up (I have stopped counting) with her baby daddy, I hate this term. She claims she doesn’t care but I was a little heartbroken to see them give up yet again. Odds are, based on my personal non professional assessment of their situation that in another year or so they will give it go again.

I went on a small tangent for a moment but if you’re a regular you’re probably used to my stream of consciousness style. Believe me a point is coming soon, I promise.

Nurse Friend and I decided to go single lady for V-Day bowling. Why, because we didn’t feel like staying indoors watching the sappy chick flicks playing on every station memorializing a holiday that we weren’t a part of. We invited a few of the regulars who all cancelled due to inclement weather (it flurried for 2 nanoseconds and everyone was acting like a blizzard hit town). I blame this entirely on depression over the idea of being single on Valentine’s Day.

I presume there’s a memo that reads if you’re single on V-Day you’re a loser. A memo obviously too many read and believed!

Eventually our bowling a deux was invaded by 21 Jumpstreet his friend, Designer Jeans and a tag along. They made sure to make it to the bowling alley after the stroke of 12 as to not confuse this “by chance linking up” with any resemblance of a V-Day date. Those two nonchalant artists are full of….anyway. Our two months of trash talking was not in vain as we mopped (won by 6 points) the floor with 21 Jumpstreet and Designer Jeans. The Tag-a-long well he was just that a tag-a-long.

Here comes the confirmation and clarification. The whole night I wished someone else was there…..what I clarified, 21 Jumpstreet is a good guy funny and even a bit of talker if you bring it out of him but the whole time I was wishing the friendly banter was shared with someone else. Friends I think his boat has sailed without ever docking. Regardless I think we will be homies (his word not mine) for life.

This could also be me being slightly shallow because 21 packed on a few lbs. I noticed this at the holiday party. I mean it’s nothing a little LA Fitness Membership and modified diet can’t fix but well his new appearance isn’t really my cup o’ tea.

We still had fun minus my trip down shallow Faith lane. Plus we beat the boys which is always fun especially listening to them pout and make up ridonkulous excuses for losing. What topped off my weekend though was spending Sunday with the Spaniard, ole!!!! It started with a pretty intense cardio workout (guess I need to dust my LA Fitness Membership off the shelf) and ended with a relaxing massage in the sauna.

Side note the sauna while doing wonders for my skin did a number and a half on my hair which had me at the Best Friend's house with a hot comb.

It goes without saying that I like this guy because no one ruins my hair without proper notice or payment for fixing. And there you have it folks I confirmed over a weekend dedicated to amore that one you don’t have to have a Valentine to celebrate the season (hell I psuedo celebrated with two boys) and two I do in fact have the hotties for the Spaniard. Of course my heart and mind change like the wind so let’s see what happens tomorrow!

Not sure what the deal is these days but I think every man I’ve come in contact with and a few I haven’t seen in person recently crawled out of the woodworks. My look hasn’t changed in any way. I figure I must be producing high pheromone levels that are exuded even through the phone.

OK maybe this needs some explanation. So for the last three weeks or so I’ve been working closely with a particular manager who has an eerie likeness to Steve Carrall. There’s nothing inherently wrong with said likeness but from time to time I want him to scream ahhhh Kelly Clarkson. In turn he obviously wants me to allow him to motorboat. If not he has a weird obsession with my breasts. Needless to say we haven’t completed this transaction.

Incidentally I am not at all bothered by men staring at my chest. By now I’m used to it and am working on that patent for areola discourse.

Mailroom Boy dropped not so subtle hints about the upcoming Ne-Yo concert and before my trip for 8 blessed weeks away from the office to Chicago (don’t get excited it’s for work not play) he shoved his telephone number down my throat. OK that sounds a touch violent but he might as well have since I was in one of those positions where I couldn’t say no lest totally ruin a decent work friend relationship. In any event I’m now quasi obligated to use said number for communication purposes. This rock and a hard place is not a fun place to be. Might I add he also mentioned something about Valentine’s Day.

I am not sure when we developed this type of relationship, might I remind him that I don’t dip the office ink.

To add to this madness, 21 Jumpstreet sent a phantom text message saying he misses me. WTF???? Where did that come from? Me floored. I immediately dialed Nurse and The Best Friend to over analyze this situation before responding. After about ten minutes of relatively non productive conversations with both I decided to simply respond, R u serious (texting is the best/worst form of communication)? To which he simply said of course.

Sometimes his non chalantism really gets under my skin. Mind you this is the same gent who when I was nearly throwing it at him Cole Hamels style he didn’t even bat an eye. Men!

We later have a brief conversation where he doesn’t care to address the implications of this text nor his odd I will always wait for you comment from weeks before. He simply states that he wanted to stay fresh in my mind because we’re supposed to be going bowling.

The up side to this weird out of nowhere extra male attention, the cabbie aka The Spaniard! With every rain storm there’s a rainbow. Ohh ohh ohh Buenos Dias to me!!!! Most times, and no offense to cab drivers the world over but cabbies are icky-such a technical term I know. But the Spaniard was oh la la (OK that was French). We had superb conversation. As I pocketed his telephone number OK more like stored it in my cell phone he said to definitely give him a call when I’m back in the city and no not just for a ride to and from the airport. Did I mention he’s in school for Criminal Justice at my Alma Mater? He won brownie points!

Today I woke up without the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Uneasy aka icky alcohol from the night before still inhibiting my stomach lining and lurking in wait for me to wake before rushing out my mouth. It's a small price to pay to the party gods. Nurse Friend is already talking about bigger and better for next year. I told her to give me at least until February to begin the planning of it all.

So the fallout. Should I act oblivious and fake intoxicated amnesia? I'm sure, completely sure The Godfather isn't going to let me forget passing bedroom eyes induced by Vodka at him all night. Cranberry Absolute definitely has a crush on him. A few weeks ago I could hide behind the non dating thing. Now I have to hurt feelings and just say, hey you know what I'm just not that into you.
It sounds bad and this is so the reason why people lie, it lessens the brunt force of total rejection.

Did I mention giving Nurse Friend's number out to 21 Jump Street's buddy? Funny how intoxication triggered some weird phone number total recall because since dragging her digits from the cellie it's been committed to memory for life. I recited it back to her without looking earlier today.

Despite spilling my guts like a floosie on Sunday I still managed to someway pull a number. OK not exactly a number, since I already have 21 Jump Street's number in my phone but now I'm not cowering behind the veil of friendship. He knows how I feel and have felt since college days. Are we still on for football on Sunday?

He also knows that a mutual acquaintance(there's a ginormous back story here that I can't get into) lied about me dating one of his friends (OMG everyone knows I don't do short men and said acquaintance had a major hard on for 21) and that I never dated Male Nurse Friend (I mean he's like my brother). But I digress.

So what does it mean when a man remembers the exact outfit you wore when you first met?

And long story short it feels oh so wonderful to reunite with my sober clear thinking mind. Problem, dealing with the consequences of one night of un-sober fun.

P.S. Nurse Friend has started bowling troubles.