In vino veritas

I'm very blue today.

I got drunk with a couple of colleagues from work last night, and I was the perfect uptight girl getting drunk. I wrote this last night:

I'm still tipsy  Been waiting to get sober enough to fall asleep and sleep through the night. Even after a litre of water, my system is still acidic.  If I fall asleep now, I'll wake up in a couple of hours.(But I'm sober enough to know that I should hit "save" and not "publish...")

I drank enough to let down my guard.  I really did!  I talked openly about sex and vulnerabilities, as I was expected to, but I made sure that the drunker I got, the more politically radically I sounded.  As if my political moderation was just a mask and I couldn't wait to let out the inner Marx.  

But I'm afraid, my real inner-Marx is Harpo: somewhat inappropriate and not very funny.  I'll put my knee in your chest, interrupt randomly and occasionally, I hope, do something that is lovely, but I'm not actually as clever as people think.  But that's OK.  I hid Harpo and let Karl take the stage.

Three times this month, people have said to me "you're one of the kindest people I know."  And all three times, they've gone home to fuck the person they lust after.  Kindness isn't all it is cracked up to be.  

This morning, I'm hung over, but also blue.  Last night made me feel really lonely because they went home together.  I was out walking along the water this morning and there were all these families.  And Philip, well what do I saw about Philip?  He seems to want me in his life, but not enough to make me a priority.  I'm tired of having to push him to go out. I want him to want to be with me as much as I wanted to be with him. I feel like we've been treading water.

I hate the amount of control I cede to a man that interests me.  Quickly.  Intellectually, I resist.  But he ends up controlling my moods and I find myself bluer and bluer when he is distant and then when he saunters back, I immediately perk up.  The ironic think is that Philip has told me that he disappears when he is blue because he doesn't want to make me blue.  I've never told him how blue I get when he disappears.  I shouldn't allow my moods to be so dependent on his attention.  I know I shouldn't.  I try to stay busy.  More than try--I'm very busy.  But I would always make time to see him when he wants to see me.  But I just don't think I'm a priority.  

And I want to be someone's priority.  SOON! I was washing my face and I looked so old in the mirror when I smile. It was a shock to see!  But, I suppose I smile a lot.  And I want to keep smiling.  But truth is, I think I'd be a lot happier if I were a hot bitch than a  kind woman.

Dark Flashes of the Soul

I seem to be in a weird sort of transitional moment.  I continue to see Philip, and we continue to be primarily platonic.  Part of me thinks he is interested; he certainly spends time with me like he's interested.  But I'm less and less confidant that anything will come of it.  Of course, I seem to like him enough that when I spend time with other guys, I mostly just miss him.  But I don't seem to be a priority for him and I don't see him shifting things to make me a priority, so there it is.

I don't think it is just the issue with Philip, but I have these flashes of crippling sadness.  My life feels so pointless.  I feel like such a failure.  I cannot actually believe that no one wants to spend his life with me.  So many people think I'm a good person.  But no one wants to compromise enough to be with me.  And I'm willing to compromise.  I was willing to quit my job and move to Berlin with MaxEarnest.  I would have married John, if he'd wanted me.

I was shopping in a typical United-States discount home-wares store today.  I haven't been in a store like that for a long time.  But they had such lovely things!  The quality of our 'stuff' is so very high.  And I bought lots of stuff I didn't need.  Like a dish brush that is a decorated like a flower with a flower face. A purple spatula.  Did I mention that it is purple!  So much purple is available right now.  I am sure it is a trend and won't be available next year and purple makes me happy.  Some amazingly beautiful glass serving bowls.  They are truly stunning--from Turkey, but a different style than anything I saw when I was there.  And I bought a pedestal cake plate.  And I started to cry.  Because I have no one I could make a cake for.

A lot of people appreciate me.  But, aside from my mom and Dotty (and my cats) no one who loves me.

It's odd.  John and I were both scared we were unlovable.  I think the fact that we shaded that secret with each other is what bound us together. But I loved him so much; I know he was wrong.  And I know he didn't love me that much. No one has proved me wrong.

I know my parents love me.  And now they like me.  But they sure didn't like me growing up.  My parents did the best they could, given the cultural currents of the time.  The "Me generation" wasn't really focused on being parents.  They never stopped lovely me.  But it would have been nice if they'd liked me; empathized with me; listened to me; respected me.  I know I'm too old to blame my parents.  So I guess it is just me at this point.  And there are a few people  who "love" me.  But no one would make a compromise to be with me.  A lot of people tell me I'm one of the kindest people they know.  A lot of people rely on me for help with day-to-day life.  And I think I make some of my clients' lives substantively better.  But if I died, my mom and Dotty are the only ones who would care, or even remember in a year.

So that's the self-pitying, crippling flash of depression.  But it is very short.  I was shopping at that store, and walked past the little-girl row, awash in pink, and it was all I could do not to cry. I want to create a home to share! But then I was past that aisle, and there was a purple blanket that was so soft.  And so I did what so many Americans do; I bought a new blanket. I went to work. I accomplished a couple of things. Sure my old blanket was perfectly fine. But it wasn't purple.  And this one is soft enough to cuddle next to and forget that I am alone.

Ice Cream

The sound of the ice-cream truck wafts through my windows.  I wasn't even thinking about food, but it calls.  I resist, but it takes a lot of energy to resist.

I'm working out with a personal trainer and he wants me to quit eating any ice-cream at all.  None. For two weeks.

On one level, that seems reasonable, but I can't do it.  I limit myself to 200 calories of ice-cream a day (on good days).  On days when I think about not having any for 2 weeks, I eat much too much of something else.

What is is about ice-cream?

I was talking with a very thin friend of mine (let's call her Twiggy) and she has a friend who is less in control of her eating than I was 40 pounds heavier. According to Twiggy, the other woman is eating an entire pint of Ben and Jerry's just about every day.  That is around 1200 calories a day of ice-cream, give or take.  And there are days I've done that.  Now I get out my scale and have 120 grams of Edy's slow-churned, with lots of fruit, most days.

What is it about ice-cream?

For me, ice-cream, more than any other food, is love.  My favorite memory ever with "the ex" was a night when a blog I wrote (on a different site) really took off.  I had about 700 comments and he was so pleased, went out, bought me ice-cream and fed me little bites while I blogged.  It was so sweet.  It was so loving.

I have many lovely memories of MaxEarnest, but ice-cream probably what I miss most about Europe (although not MaxEarnest).  We would go to this cafe and he'd order coffee and buy me an ice-cream sundae.  It was such a sign of love.  Such a sign that he knew he I was and accepted me as I was and wanted me to be happy.

I haven't figured out food since MaxEarnest.  I'm kinder with my food.  Much more gentle.  Before MaxEarnest, I didn't really allow myself to enjoy food.  Too dangerous.  Now I have ice-cream in the house (but only Edy's slow-churned vanilla--anything else I will eat much too quickly).  And I only have it with fruit.  I even let myself have Trader Joe's triple-ginger ginger snaps.  But only crumbled over ice-cream (and I think I've had about 4 tubs of them in the last year.  Shockingly, the current ones are actually stale--I used to not allow myself to buy them because I could eat a tub in a couple of days.  Honestly, I probably ate a tub in a day one time.  I don't remember, but I wouldn't be surprised.)

So I'm much more in control of my eating.  I let myself buy a 6-cup container of Edy's every week (1 cup has 200 calories, and is 120 grams).  And I'm enjoying food more.  And I'm 10 pounds heavier than I was.  I don't know how to balance that.

But the thought of giving up ice-cream makes me want to eat. Cupcakes. Tarts. Cookies. Much higher in calories and not actually as lovely as ice-cream.