It's Good To Be Wanted...I Think

Cowboy misses me. He wants to be with me, and only me. Cowboy called me twice last night. He wants to know when he can take me out. I had told cowboy we could date but I didn't want to be as serious as we were. Last night he asked if that meant we would be dating other people too. I said yes.

Our views on that differ a bit. Actually, they differ a lot. He's not sure he can accept me dating other people besides him because it means I'm looking for something or someone better. I need to know if I like cowboy for who he is or because there's a certain familiarity or comfort level when I'm with him. I hadn't planned on jumping into a serious relationship, let alone a serious relationship with someone who lives in BFE, likes to kill furry and feathery things, and drives a truck bigger than my driveway. I need to separate how I feel about cowboy from how I feel when he says he wants me back. I have to admit, it feels good to be wanted.

My new guy has damn near disappeared. Good thing I haven't wasted a creative nickname on him. I got an email this week and that's it. I can understand his hesitation about getting involved with someone at work...again...but why did he kiss me at the party then?

In order for me to follow Carm's advise (and pretty much everyone else's) and date outside of my norm, date someone who is the complete opposite of what I've known, date somebody that's picked up a book in the last decade, somebody who doesn't like to kill things in their spare time, somebody that lives closer to downtown than Mt. Hood, I need to figure out how and where to meet these guys.
Maybe they can add "marital status" to the online phone directory at work...

In 2008, I Resolve to...

I don't know. I recall making New Year's resolutions every year for, well, as long as I can remember. I don't have one this year. I'm not about to quit drinking, or quit smoking, or quit eating Jack In The Box Sampler Trio's when I get a craving for grease and ranch dressing. I'd like to work some exercise into my life, but where to fit it in between work, school, kid, dog, and dating - I'm not sure.

I spent this past weekend swinging around a stripper pole. For those privileged few, you can find a picture in the comments section of my myspace. If you have seen that picture, it might seem a little strange that there appear to be couches behind the pole. It appears that way because those are couches, and the pole is in the middle of my friend's living room. She had a party Friday night (which I obviously went to since there's photographic evidence) where I drank way too much Bacardi & Coke for my own good and way too much to be very helpful the next day to move another friend into a new apartment. Saturday morning my left foot hurt, I had a giant blue and green bruise across the top of it and could hardly get my shoe on. Hell, I could barely walk. I have no clue what I did; nothing hurt on Friday night! Although I noticed I was out of breath after one full song on the pole so maybe I should rethink that exercise thing.

Trainer at my work gym: Why do you want to get in shape?
Me: So I don't run out of breath when I'm pole dancing drunk at parties.

By Monday, New Years Eve, I could fit my swollen, bruised foot into a four inch heel again and off to American Cowgirls we went. The main pole on the stage was down because they had a DJ up there, but the two smaller poles on the dance floor were still up. I am all for dressing to impress and showing off your best assetts. However, there really needs to be minimum acceptable skirt length. We actually saw ass cheek and thong color last night - so not cool. I also suggest Cowgirls put a weight limit on the smaller poles because two whales on one pole is not pretty either. Eligible male prospects were a little slim this night. My cute bouncer wasn't working, and every other eligible male was younger than my little bro which I'm not really OK with. Two guys at the table next to us were obviously looking, and the one just cracked me up. He was probably in his late 40's, grey hair, silky shirt unbuttoned one too many, and drunk enough to get on the dance floor and dance like a true white boy - again, not pretty and definitely not cool.

So what do I want for 2008? To remember to always be true to myself, learn to listen to and follow my instincts, and figure out how to work a pole without feeling like I got ran over by a truck the next day...

The New Guy...

Through the course of the last year, I have elaborated on my trials and tribulations with NYB (that was New Year's Boy), mr.redbull, cowboy, and now "my new guy".
One might wonder why the hell I can't come up with a better nickname than "my new guy." Well, given that my blog is public domain and I make a concerted effort to protect my friends' privacy yet be honest, any name I can come up with would give away who I'm talking about to those not in the know.
Real name? Initials? Clothes? Location? Mr.redbull started calling him "insert employer name here" boy but that doesn't work for this purpose or talking about him to anyone at work. YIKES!!! Maybe I'm a little on the paranoid side, but you never who might stumble across this...

Black & White or Shades of Grey?

Post house party when I got back to work on Monday, I e-mailed my new guy to see if he wanted to go out to "coffee or lunch or something." After some back and forth, we ultimately settled on lunch for Friday when we would both be off work.
At this point, cowboy and I had talked about "us" that Monday night. I came away from the conversation with the understanding that we had stalled; we reached a point where we were not going to progress any further. Cowboy was not ready to meet M, he was not ready to involve kids in the relationship, and he was scared to get too close to anyone.
Friday I met my new guy at Bridgeport Brewing for what ended up being one of my best first dates as far as feeling relaxed, not worrying, not stressing, and not being nervous about things. We actually lost track of time - thank god we weren't working that day because we were there for nearly 3 hours.
Mr.redbull had chastised me the night before my lunch date for not calling it quits with cowboy, and warned me that I would not be able to enjoy my date on Friday because I would feel guilty. Ummm, not so much. The fact I felt so comfortable tells me that I need to step back and really think about what I want.
My hairdresser Carm told me I need to date someone completely different than M's dad or anyone I've dated before and that cowboy is too similar to my ex.
And now for the shades of grey, layers of complexity, and drama reminiscent of high school - technically, I had not completely broken up with cowboy, new guy's divorce isn't quite final, and even when it is final... his ex works with us too.

Where Do I Go From Here?

There is no legal requirement that I title all of my posts with questions, yet it seems my life is full of questions of late.

In two days, I will be exactly halfway through my M.B.A. I have been going out with cowboy for as long as I've been in school this time around - just over six months. Not sure if it is simply my over-analytical nature or if life is trying to tell me something, but I am starting to question whether cowboy and I are right for each other. At one point I was very sure because it just felt right between us.

Just before Thanksgiving, I picked up on tension between us. Not a lot, but just enough to make things a tiny bit, almost awkward. We still got along fine. I even took cowboy to my department's Christmas dinner. But it's duck season. We haven't been out to Bushwhacker's together since September. Two weekends in December I asked him if we could maybe hit the bar for a little bit, and his response was less than enthusiastic because "the bar is more of a February thing." In other words, going out dancing is an in between duck seasons thing.

Last Friday I went to a house party. It's been a long time since I've been on the work party circuit given the circumstances of the last decade. While I was at the party, I met somebody. To clarify, I have known this person in passing but that night was the first time we talked outside of work. He liked my black satin heels with the ankle straps (in a "good" way), he likes classic SNL skits, he owns books and actually reads them, he does not drive a 4x4, and his hobbies do not include killing things.

The thought has crossed my mind that one of the reasons I am so comfortable with cowboy is because in some ways, he is very similar to M's dad - the hunting, the living out beyond the suburbs, the camping, the general disdain for reading... I hate to say this, but I see some old behaviors in myself coming out that tell me I'm still not in tune with the real me. After cowboy's negative reaction to my first night out at Cowgirls, I filtered my retelling of the next couple times I went swinging around poles and dancing on bars. I considered not going to the house party. I need to be comfortable enough with who I am that I can go into a relationship and say "this is me, deal with it - I wear high heels, I've been known to swing around a pole and will probably take lessons when I'm done with my MBA, I like to go out dancing, and I have to be home every 8 hours because I have indoor dogs." Another hot topic is kids - I have M, he has two of his own. He has not met M, I have not met his two. I see the reason in not introducing too soon but it's been half a year!

After the house party, I obsessed all weekend long about what the events Friday night meant, did I want to pursue city boy, did city boy have a real interest in me, did I want to gamble on dating someone from work, did I want to continue seeing cowboy too? Do I have a clue what I want?

Why Are XHusbands Such Dicks?

About a month ago, M's dad called me at work and started yelling at me. Yelling at me about every financial decision I had ever made during our life together. Everything from the cars I bought, the student loans I took out, to the computer I bought and how much he pays me in child support for M. All I could do is sit at my desk and cry as quietly as possible. I couldn't yell back because I was work. I couldn't tell him that he needed to open his eyes and look at the amount of money he'd spent on pot over the last decade. The conversation ended with him threatening to take me to court because he didn't feel the current child support payment was fair. Really, I think he's just short the money he needs to go hunting. What would he do with extra money every month anyway? More pot, more alcohol, more vicodin, and more hunting.
Today I gave M's dad five weeks notice that I would be traveling for work for a week (as compared to the usual 3 days notice he gives me when he changes week nights on me). The response I got was somewhat less than stellar, "That really fucks things up for me. I had plans that week." Maybe I should quit my job. I wonder how much he'd like that child support payment.
After this conversation, I get an email from him that says "Child support - you have a chance to treat me fair". Child support is calculated by the state. I did not pull a number out of thin air or decide to arbitrarily screw him for everything I could take. Let's talk about fair. Where exactly was it fair that he could spend money on drugs while we were married and take money away from our family's goals? Where was it fair that he could spend most of his time stoned and checked out of life? Where was it fair he could withdraw from any and all activities that didn't involve his friends? He says he would try to get me back if he thought he had a chance. He's already lost his wife and he still doesn't see the impact of his behavior. I don't think he'll ever grow up.

Pole Posse In Da House

What might you ask is the "pole posse"? American Cowgirls encourages the ladies to dance on the bar (think Coyote Ugly but anyone can get up there) and they provide stripper poles (three of them). Two of my girlfriends and I began calling ourselves the 'pole posse' last night. And one of my girlfriends has been taking lessons for the past six weeks. Yep, pole dancing lessons. She's really good too.
Last night was my first night at AC, and let me tell you - pole dancing is hard freakin' work. I wasn't even on the pole for more than four or five songs all night. My arms are sore, my legs are sore, and I have a giant, purple bruise on the inside of my thigh from swinging my leg around the pole to gain momentum. Shaking your ass on the bar is hard work too. However, our theory after last night, every girl has an inner stripper that's just dying to get out and do a little bump and grind.
Notice I did not mention cowboy went with, because he was out in the woods killing things this weekend. What is it with men and needing to go kill things? Anyway, cowboy teased me a little bit beforehand about my going pole dancing. Then tonight I passed along how my weekend went and why my arms/legs/back are killing me. He actually said "I thought you'd have a little more class than that." I'm really not sure what I think about that statement and yet I don't want to turn one little comment into a huge deal.
Although, I have to admit that in a sense he is right and has a valid point. The thought crossed my mind Saturday night while I'm on the bar in the middle of Van Halen's 'Panama' that I'm at a point in my career where it really wouldn't be OK for someone from work to walk in and see me dancing on a bar or swinging around a brass pole ...