A Quarter Life Crisis

This is the R7 - the train I actually catch to go downtown to work!

Peculiar morning, no? It was for me even if it wasn’t for you. I woke up and hit the snooze button, not typical Faith behavior. Normally I’m awake before the alarm blares and watch the fluorescent numbers change until 6:36AM. I have no scientific evidence to back this theory but I’ve decided my need to control things makes me wake up before the alarm sounds. It’s a false sense of security.

Snoozing was just the start. Typically when I finish dressing for work I walk into the kitchen and feed the cats. For whatever reason instead of giving the cats their food bowl I laid the bag of cat food on their feeding mat and placed their food dish underneath the sink where the bag belongs. I walked away for a second and then realized the error of my ways, odd! Clearly this was just as disturbing to the cats who took to staring at me blankly. But then again maybe not as cats never really stare knowingly in my opinion they are more blank than emotional. I truly dislike their coldness but I feel compelled to have a pet. I’ve always had a pet and can’t see existing without one. I might need to discuss this compulsion with someone.

Anywho, because I was slightly off my normal schedule the iron was still hot and I felt uneasy about wrapping it up and placing it in the closet. But I did. I felt like it might melt something on the top shelf. I thought about this during my walk to the train station. Oh did I forget to mention that now that I am working in the city regularly I take the train twice a week when my brother can’t drive me because of his dialysis appointment.

On my less than five minute walk to the train station I was almost hit by a car driving no more than 10 miles per hour. As I tried to maneuver around him he tried to park in the space I was standing in. In his defense I was in the only parking space still available in front of the free clinic. Yes I live around the corner from a free clinic, #dontjudgeme. My apartment is ridonkulously cheap for its size but for what it makes up for in space it loses in neighborhood appeal. I won’t speak on the seedy characters that I see on a daily basis. Being home more often may force my hand to make that move.

And when I say move I don’t mean living with The Spaniard. Ever since having my license plate stolen twice I’ve toyed with the idea of moving out of the neighborhood and truly embracing my boughie. Of course with my hectic travel schedule that thought only occurred to me when I had extended stays in my apartment, so like once every quarter. Not enough to make me actually look for a new place. Don’t confuse my ploys to be grown up by acquiring a realtor and looking at condos as a realistic search for a new place. I toyed with the idea of adulthood through purchasing something I definitely probably can’t afford comfortably. Besides I don’t want a place without a family or the guise of a family.

On the train I noticed a couple of things that struck my fancy and something that disturbed me a bit. I’ll start with the fancy because that’s more interesting…I think! So there was this guy sitting half way down the train car who resembled my College Crush. I would have liked to see him walk because I like watching men walk, it’s one of my things and because my College Crush was bowlegged. Although considered a flaw in adults, I find it very very fascinating and sezy. I don’t know why. So much so I looked it up on Wikipedia when I came into work this morning to find out the actual medical term, Genu Varum.

That had me thinking a little bit about college and how I almost had the nerve to tell College Crush that I had a thing for him, which I honestly think was mutual…it helps my ego so go with it. In the middle of my speech, which I wrote out the night before, I was rudely interrupted by an envious lesbian. To this day I still fault her for my inability to disclose my true feelings to him. I ended our friendship shortly thereafter because I couldn’t look at her face without replaying my missed opportunity. Sure I know this makes no sense but I remember her bringing it up in casual conversation saying something like, “Wow did you see how College Crush looked at you, you’d have thought you were about to tell him you loved him or something, ha ha!”

It also made me think about the betrayal I felt when a close acquaintance of mine sucked him off one night dated him briefly during our senior year. She totally betrayed my trust. I confided in her that I’d been crushing on this guy since freshmen year when we sat next to each other in soc class. At first she said something like why and then I explained all his amazing qualities, one of them being his super smartness. He graduated Summa Cum Laude. Big…brains do it for me all the time! Additionally he was athletically inclined, tall, broad shouldered, handsome in that rugged cowboy way and he was a genuine sweetheart. For instance he’d always give me his sweatshirt in criminology classes because the building was outrageously cold.

Not that it was right but yes I actually laughed at her when she told me he was a loser for never calling her afterwards. She deserved that treatment for being a backstabbing skank not to mention he liked taller girls with a little more chesticles, I know this from the few girls who were privileged enough to be called his girlfriend. In my mind I was clearly a shoe in, this didn’t combat my nervousness though. Fear crippled me after being interrupted by the lesbian and well I missed an opportunity at something or nothing. Who knows it will always be one of those things I wonder about. I hate not having closure though I won’t lie. It did teach me that if there is something or someone you want, go for it. Never allow fear to consume you to the point it inhibits your ability to act because it will always be your loss.

Does it make me a stalker that I’ve tried to find him on Facebook multiple times with no success?

Anywho, I then noticed a couple sitting about two aisles away on the train. I started to think that it must be weird to both live and work with your spouse. When would you get that me time that everyone needs? I pocketed that thought because the female portion of the duo missed her mouth and spilled a whole bunch of coffee down the front of her shirt. This in and of itself didn’t capture my eye, it was the male portion of the duo coping a feel assisting in cleaning. Interesting, she’s going to be very embarrassed for the rest of the day. It was a cream blouse. I also noticed the guy hold back a laugh. The chick wasn’t too amused but next time I’m sure she’ll be more careful.

Before reaching my destination, Suburban Station, the train stops at the Gallery. There’s always a line-up of passengers getting off at this station. One of them that stuck out to me by hair initially was a gentlemen with a freshly cut hi-top fade. I know that 90’s fashions are the rage and I’m sort of riding the bandwagon but in this instance the unkempt trying to be curly nappy hi-top fade made me want to earl a bit in my mouth. If that wasn’t enough to upset my morning breakfast, once Mr. 90’s was in full body length view he was wearing a pair of women’s rain boots and the tightest stone washed black jeans I’ve ever seen on a man. I think he noticed me staring at him. I apologize for the judgment but seriously dude, I mean seriously!

But the topper, the icing on this strange ride to the work and slightly disturbing, the noticeably disheveled husky man in the tan pea coat who kept making eyes at me. I noticed that he wasn’t wearing any socks with his dress shoes. It was definitely cold this morning and he was actually sockless, spooky right? If the car were empty besides the two of us I’d have been real afraid, like snatch a piece of my cootie frightened. And I don’t scare easily. I mean seriously my fright meter is way up there. Granted the fear could have been coming from a place of non-comfort with the fact that someone I found less than attractive was giving me the I wanna lick your neck look. But I really think it was more because he looked like an ex serial killer, at any moment ready to return from sabbatical with a vengeance.

Peculiar morning, no?

Under normal circumstances I am not a jealous person. I rarely ask The Spaniard who he was with or where he’s been. It’s not because I don’t care…well a little of it is because I don’t care but to some degree I operate under the system that any dirt that you do will eventually come to light. My battles with him come down to when I’m actually in his presence. He incomparable to any other knows how to trample my last nerve. And I’m not a violent person but I’ve wanted to, in the not so recent past, punch him in the face MMA style.

But yesterday I felt something odd. We were talking, just chatting really about nothing in particular. OK we were talking about nude beaches and if I agreed with him that they were a no go. In honesty I don’t care. My concern, be respectful. If a woman or man for that matter drops trou at the beach it isn’t for your viewing pleasure, this ain’t the sckrippa club. Don’t ogle some chick because she’s got a great body and cause Mr. Happy to get…you know Happy!

Sidenote I don’t have an issue with sckrippa clubs either, if you wanna pay for something folks show for free be my guest just don’t come to me afterwards smelling of rachet gutter butt hos or classy tramp perfume. Both will get you major side eye action.

He kept going on and on about men wearing shorts above the knee which he also considers a no go. I told him that if his inner metrosex sought my approval for such, he had my blessing. Considering his partial European upbringing I expect latent metrosexual behavior…it’s kind of a given. American men are overly masculine while the rest of the world, save for the Caribbean islanders, march the masculinity/femininity thin line.

Yes I know I just stereotyped men, whatever it’s my unscientific biased opinion so lump it.

None of this made my pressure rise or my antennae perk. But mid conversation just as one passenger left and another entered his cab the wind shifted. Granted the nude beach convo was going nowhere but I was just bored enough to continue with it a little while longer. There was a casual exchange between him and the rider, clearly someone he knew. Most of these people I recognize by name but not this one. I could hear her voice, soft, happy and young I’d bet money between 25-30 give or take a year or two. She asked him about his day, he answered in Spanish, mas o menos (rough translation alright literal translation more or less moving right along). Then this chick asked him to spot her some money to get lunch and he agreed, where they do that at??????

What did I listen to? Is this normal passenger cabbie talk or some other hashish that requires sleuthing? And I totally disapprove of the flirty Spanish talk. Anyway, antennae perked pressure slightly above normal I was at a loss for words. This never happens. Normally I am quick tongued but I immediately felt white hot with anger impeding my ability to talk. I kept turning the small but very telling conversation between this not so random passenger and The Spaniard around in my head. Then he awkwardly mumbled something like, I’ll talk to later ok, dial tone.

This is the same man who called me back angry after I accidently hung up the phone on him screaming about never ending a conversation with OK. He never ends any conversation even if he’s angry with me by saying talk to you later or OK. He always says I’ll see you soon hun or bye love…am I tripping?

Am I becoming one of those girls that sniff tests? Have I morphed into that girl? You know the one who sits outside of her boyfriend’s house/apartment when she knows he’s home and calls him to ask where he is to see if he lies? Did I just stumble into the realm of crazy jealous? Am I taking a brief conversation between casual acquaintances out of context? Is my gut right when it tells me to bring this up in random conversation to see if he stutters and if I get a whiff he’s lying about this bish chuck the deuces? See and there you have it I just called some female I don’t know from jump street a foul name at the hint she’s drinking my kool-aid.

I have no clue where jump street is and I’m not even sure where that colloquialism comes from. Not to mention I’ve declared ownership over The Spaniard, this isn’t 1815 as far as I can surmise slavery no longer exists.

This is weird crazy jealous woman hashish I know it is but I can’t stamp the thought out of my head. I’m obsessing about it a little. And you know what I blame this on, my current employment situation…if I were consulting busy my mind wouldn’t have a chance to over-process nonsense. Oh see the right side of my brain, you know the practical side that processes things logically, told me to stop this hours ago, but the left side, creative domain also known as drama girl central won’t let it go hence the blogpost.

So am I blowing this out of proportion? Side note, jealousy much like wool itches and is uncomfortable without a camisole. Me no like it!