Downtown

I went out with my friend, Sabrina last night. I love Sabrina. People often ask if we are sisters, although less so now that my hair isn't blonde anymore. Nevertheless, we have similar features and we're both tall and we laugh a lot when we're together. So we just say, "Yes, we are in fact sisters!"

Sabrina just went through a nasty break-up and I was on the verge of mine. So we dressed up, got my mom to drop us off downtown, and decided to turn it up a little. Or a lot. As things turned out.

We went to Sacramento's newest nightclub, Mix, where the clientele is certainly quite a mix. Mix is located on the rooftop of a downtown building. Part of the club is an outside terrace; the other part is indoors and includes a large dance floor and several bars.

The cocktails were flowing and the music was pumping. We drank, flirted, danced, and laughed until 2am.

I forgot how much fun a wild night with a girlfriend could be. Even despite a nasty hangover.

Withdrawal

I've said it before and I'll say it again: I sometimes think that single moms with young kids should not attempt dating. It's too damn hard.

My current beau, K, gave me the "jump in or jump out" talk last weekend. Consequently, my stomach hurt and I couldn't sleep all week.

Some say that I might be developing a pattern here. But, I think that I'm trying to discover what I need in a partner and that the road is rocky and sometimes, very hurtful for both people involved. True, my last three relationships have petered out after a few months but isn't that really about the time when you get to know someone? And isn't it better to "call it" after a few months, rather than a year? Or two?

I went over to K's last night after work. Around 8pm. I was dreading it, in all honesty. Our conversations this week were difficult, from both sides. Our dialogue felt forced. I could tell that K wanted to be all over me, emotionally and physically, the moment I walked in the door.

Right after dinner, I called a time out and said we needed to talk. I attempted to tell him that my heart isn't in it. I said to him, point blank: "Look, on MOST days, I don't want to be in a relationship with anyone other than my son (friends and family excluded)." I couldn't have been more specific.

Trouble is, he's leaving for a cruise with his family today. He kept telling me that he didn't want to go with a heavy heart. So I took on the heavy heart and am feeling like crap for sending him off to the Caribbean under the false pretense that I would be here, missing him like crazy. But then again, maybe I will...miss him like crazy. I'm definitely open to that possibility. Wide open.

And just to be clear, I tried yet again this morning to help him understand. "I'm not moving at the same pace," I told him. "It's like you're in the carpool lane and I'm in the bicycle lane." How could I have been any clearer?

What I want right now, is some time for my belly to settle down and a little distance from romantic obligations. I want to hang out with Ben and not have to worry about integrating someone else into our days. I want to come home from work and watch a DVD. Alone. I want to learn how to peacefully co-exist with my mother. I want to figure out what I'm supposed to do, relative to work.

My friend Shelley tells me that when the right guy comes along, I'll WANT to spend time with him. I'll WANT to give up a spin class, an afternoon pedicure, a dinner out with a girlfriend. On the other hand, my friend Kathie thinks I should step out of the dating world completely. For several months to a year. Yet another opinion comes from my mother: "You should be doing a lot of dating. How can you figure out what you want if you're not out there?"

Withdrawing is my default plan. Always has been. Generally, my friends know that if the phone line is silent for a few days on end, something is wrong.

I figure I have eight days before K comes home to take a good, long look at the interior of my heart. If you don't hear from me this week, you'll know why.

Surprise

As a follow-up to my last entry, here's a quick recap of what's transpired since the last post.

I made my way to Capital Athletic Club last night to teach my twice-a-month yoga class there. Traffic getting into downtown was horrible and I raced into the studio part of the gym with only moments to spare. Still in a rush, I grabbed my MP3 player and attempted to locate the connector for the stereo. Gone. A bit of panic set in since I never carry CDs anymore and I flipped the stereo around to see if the connector had somehow fallen behind the unit. Nope. Not in sight.

5:29pm. One minute to start time. No music and I hadn't even given the class a proper greeting. Footsteps behind me. I glance over my shoulder and then audibly gasp. Jay is standing right there. I think I threw myself at him in a big bear hug but am not exactly sure because I was so shocked in the moment that the details of what exactly transpired totally escape me now. I do know that he looked pretty much the same as in junior high and that the rush of emotion I felt over seeing a long-standing and intense crush was nothing short of extremely intense. I'm sure, that on the scale of emotions, his were much lower than mine. I am, after all, the one who carried the very silent torch for many years.

Anyway. Our exchange was such a flurry that I didn't have a chance to see if he was wearing a wedding ring or not. He left the studio as quickly as he had come in and I was left to teach my class. Without music. And completely distracted.

After driving home later in the evening, I logged on to Facebook and sent him a note, thanking him for stopping in to say hello and telling him that he looked great. He wrote back this morning and asked when we could have a drink.

I figure that it's been at least 24 years since we've had any kind of exchange at all. He mentioned, in his email this morning, that perhaps we had crossed paths at the mall during our high school years and I do remember those "chance" meetings, but to me, that's all they were since he really never had any idea that my crush had evolved past junior high.

Until now.

Scoop

Facebook strikes again.

I can't blog about this topic over at my "public" blog, yet I have to write SOMETHING about it so for the few people who read this, you're about to be let in on a really big secret.

Everyone knows that I'm seriously addicted to Facebook. I think it has something to do with not being popular in high school and now trying to get all the validation I can, even if it's the virtual validation and only validating in the sense that I can get almost anyone to be my friend. Uh, yeah, you just read it "validate" three times. Issues, I know.

I'm checking every one's status yesterday and I get a little suggestion by Facebook to add someone that I went to junior high school with. My heart jumps into my throat and my knees get really weak when I see that the someone Facebook is trying to link me up with is none other than the crush that I had from Grade 7 to Grade 12. I think I even carried the torch for this guy into my college years because every time I would run into someone from his high school, I'd inquire as to what he was up to.

To make matters worse, his mother was my English teacher in junior high and I seriously loved her. She gave me so many great tips on writing and was a constant source of encouragement. I had junior high school daydreams of marrying the crush (let's call him Jay; no Kirsten, this is not your Jay, don't worry!) and having his mother for a mother-in-law. Living in my own little daydreamy world was my constant source of entertainment since I didn't have a lot of luck with breaking into the cliques that I thought were so cool.

After junior high, we went our separate ways to high school. I never did anything about the whole crush, other than to make sure that our daily routes to and from classes would cross as much as possible. I didn't even divulge much to my small circle of friends. I had it bad.

I'm not ashamed to admit that as recent as five or six years ago, I searched for Jay's name on Classmates.com. I didn't find it and I gave up. Then along came Facebook.

I decided to send a Friend Request to him. He confirmed the request a day later and then, presto, we were friends. As soon as I got the notification of his confirmation of our Facebook friend status, I hopped right on the computer to check out his profile. HOLY SHIT. He's in Sacramento?

Facebook should be called "Open Book" because if you want to know something about someone, it's probably right there on their Wall. Like the fact that Jay worked with a very good girlfriend of mine two years ago. Same company, same department very likely. Or the mere idea that Jay works out at the same club that I teach at. And eats at my favorite downtown restaurant.

Now the one pertinent fact, that I'm sure you're wondering about at this point, is his marital status which to me, is very unclear. I distinctly remember telling Facebook that I was "single" and I see friends who have relationship status updates all the time but I don't see anything on his profile that indicates his availability. There are some pictures, however, but again, unclear as to the status of the relationship.

After 23 freaking years, no way was I going to sit on this and just be a confirmed friend. So I sent him a note, telling him that he probably knows my girlfriend and I also told him that his mother was one of the best teachers I've ever had (which is absolutely true). I also mentioned, as a "hey, by the way" that I had a big crush on him and isn't it fun and flattering to find these things out later in life?

I got a pretty quick and detailed reply. With a suggestion to meet and catch up.

Sometimes I wonder about fate and serendipity and God and the master plan. Times like these, for sure. Here I am - a grown up 38-year-old, single mom - trying to responsibly navigate the planet and do the best work that I can while I'm here - and then one single click on Facebook sends me straight back into junior high, feeling distracted, immature and...excited?

As I see it, there are several things to consider here. One, I'm dating a very nice guy who is in love with me. I think I love him too and I don't want to do anything that would hurt his feelings. He just might be the sweetest man who has ever been in my life. Two, who knows what Jay is thinking? For all I know, he could be very happily married and is flattered by my attention and simply wants to catch up on some of the stuff we talked about in our emails...a lot of "who's doing what" type of conversation. Innocent enough, right?

Damn that Facebook and all the suggestions and innuendos it throws our way. All I can say is that yes, we are having a drink later this month and that I have no idea if it's a good idea or not.

I'm sitting back and letting this one unfold.

Struggling

I'm definitely battling against myself lately. Even more than usual.

I went to the doctor on Friday morning for some kind of explanation as to why my low back is killing me, why my stomach is always twisted in knots and why I can't muster up enough energy to maintain any kind of work-out routine.

Nope, I'm not myself. Not in the least bit.

The doctor ruled out a kidney infection which is what I originally self-diagnosed and suggested something along the lines of an autoimmune condition...chronic fatigue, fibrmyalgia, or other type of inflammation. She sent me off with several lab slips and orders to get some rest.

But I'm getting frustrated with resting. I miss my power yoga classes, my reformer sessions and even my always-dreaded spinning classes. I'm starting to feel lethargic, even a bit depressed.
A thirty minute walk shouldn't make me want to go back to bed and sleep for several hours.

This week, I'm going to try my hardest to look at food as medicine and make appropriate choices for the state that I'm in right now. No bread, no wheat, no dairy, no refined sugar, no wine.

In all honesty, I didn't do myself any favors over the weekend. On Friday alone, I drank a Frappuccino that was sweetened with Splenda, and proceeded to chug down not one, not two, but THREE diet 7-ups after that. Throw in a box of macaroni and cheese and way too many handfuls of tortilla chips and there I was...mired in my own self-misery of artificial colors and sweeteners. Yeah, I really know better than that.

But perhaps I don't because here's what happened Saturday: Got up and ate a Zone bar (can you say processed, processed, processed), several slices of deli style ham (there's the P word again), a diet Coke, two glasses of wine, and a slab of Scharffenberger chocolate that was big enough to feed the entire town I grew up in and possibly the neighboring cities, as well. Then at dinner, the choices were halibut, salmon, and steak. I couldn't make up my mind so I had all three.

And I wondered why I didn't feel good this morning? Really?

The good news is that I'm on such a downward spiral right now that it won't take much, in the way of good choices, to see some improvement.

I think, that for my own moral, good food choices are a much better prescription than any that a doctor could write. I'll report in on my progress later this week. Wish me luck.