On Me, Men, and Meshugenah

Hi, Dear Sillies,

How are you? Please say, and say honestly, that you're doing fine.

Life is meshugenah. This means "crazy" in a fun, Yiddish sort of way.

A lot of excitement has ensued in the aftermath of my breakup with Dude Three last Fall. No worries if you don't remember the story. I'll catch ya up. And because I don't have a real photo of them, I borrowed this resemblance from google images.

Here's the cast of characters:

Dude Three - latest boyfriend. Our relationship lasted approximately 7 weeks. I know. It's almost a new record for me. But when he proved himself an angry, mentally unstable man, I called quits.

Skank - A neighbor and a friend, initially. Note that I don't judge women who sleep around. I envy them. But this one gets the nickname Skank because she made moves on Dude Three while pretending nothing was going on, when I spoke with her about the breakup. She then announced her new love for him on FB with a photo of them holding hands. Next, weeks later, he moved in with her. Down the street from me. Note 2: We're all in our fifties. Note 3: This story falls under the genre of nonfiction.

Me - sexually repressed, not-wanting-to-settle-but-routinely-and-naively-settling me. Yet I typically come back to the realization that my life is much better alone. With batteries.

   Months had passed since I learned of their coupledom. I grew tired of, but used to, seeing Dude Three's car every day and night. None of us spoke, though we saw each other regularly.
   Skank would continue to park her car next to mine, in a space that isn't hers. (It's another neighbor, Geezer's. More on him later.)  But I remained mature and well behaved. You all helped me with that. ("Be tall, Robyn." You advised. I thus stood as erect as my 4 foot 8 inch stature allowed.)  Oh, besides the one time I shouted "Skank!" as she walked by my front window. (Damn Tourette's.)
   One morning earlier this summer, I stepped out to put a few items in my car. Skank was by the mailboxes, a yard or so away. She'd purposely been parking extra close to my car, making it difficult to open my car door. I decided enough time had passed, I'd be mature.
   "Would you please not park so close to my car?" I asked, in a polite and calm tone.
   Things got ugly fast.
   Skank dashed to the carport to show me that she'd not crossed an imaginary halfway mark. "Look! This is halfway! See this line! I'm not over the line! Geezer lets me park here! I'm not in your sp--"
   I opened my car door to demonstrate my lack of space. "I can't even open this without hitting--''. My door hit her car, proving my argument.

   Skank's eyes widened. She grabbed her front door handle, opened and then slammed the door viciously against my car. Then again!
   Shocked and angered, my adrenaline soared.
   Skank had left a visible long vertical streak of paint on my car...to be continued. 

Hint: It gets worse.  

Acting as Annie Bidwell: Dude Three and How Can I Miss You If You Won't Ever Leave?

Dear Sillies,

  May this find you well and taking good care of yourselves.   

  Through no fault of my own, except that I chose another loser, Dude Three’s presence in my life poses an ongoing challenge. I know, right? I ended that relationship four months ago!

   Please stick with me, as we embark upon a seemingly unrelated, related story about my hometown.

   Chico, CA was founded by heroic trailblazer and statesman John Bidwell. John courted and married Annie Kennedy (not related to the famed Kennedy family) - Civil War era. This remarkable duo graced and saved countless lives –including those of Native Indians, on whose land we reside—brought trees from across the world onto our formerly desolate region, and much more.

     Annie and I were similar in a few ways: We were both the second of four children, both June babies passionate about social justice, and we abstain(ed) from drinking. Most strikingly, Annie was exactly my height – 4’8”. (John was at least 6’ tall. I have yet to meet anyone my exact height.)

     Annie Kennedy Bidwell (6/30/1839-3/9/1918)

  

   Let’s start to connect the dots: Approximately 6 weeks after the breakup, a neighbor, we’ll call her . . . let's see, "Skanky," messaged me. “We need someone short to play Annie Bidwell in the Christmas show. Are you up for it?”

   This involved welcoming guests into Bidwell Mansion (where the couple resided) and performing a skit with Skanky.  Skanky and I were friends, and she'd been in the skit for several years. Their usual Annie was out of the country.

   In short (pun intended), I couldn't turn it down. 

   Here’s me as Annie Bidwell.

ee

It was a big, little honor and loads of fun. 

Little (no pun intended this time) did I know what was going on behind the scenes…to be continued.

 

Dude Three, Dick Sounds, Make-up Sex

Dear Sillies,
   I hope your new year's been off to a great start. If not, there's plenty of time for things to turn around. And they will. Just keep taking good care of you.

   Things are fine here, and we're about to take you back to my romantic (?) story, written several months after-the-fact.
   To re-cap, Dude Three and I hit a snag through written messages. Here we are, in an attempt to talk things through:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@
   Nervously, Three sat next to me on my sofa. "Look," he fingered my shirt buttons, "I'm the first person to admit when I did something wrong at work."
   "That's differ--"
   "It's differ--"
   We finished the word simultaneously: "-ent."
   "You're nervous," I grinned and put my hand on his thigh.
   "No, I'm just saying that, okay, I went back and read our messages. I sounded like a dick."
   Wow. A man who admits to his dick sounds. I like - no, I love - that. It's like a seventh inning grand slam to clench the world championship title (in baseball, I think). He deserved big rewards.
   "Thank you for saying that. I've already told you, I'm not going to fight with you. I just don't want to be told what we're going to do, without giv--"
   Dude Three interrupted again, "Then why didn't you--"
   I extended my arm to cover his mouth, giggling. "Your statement left no room for discussion. So I said 'k,' honey." I freed him to talk.
   He chuckled. "All I wanted to ask is 'Why didn't you ask me why I said no hiking?"
   "Because babe, 'why' is a judgemental question. As a counselor, I was trained to not use that word." 

   Alas, Dude Three began to listen attentively. I got more personal regarding my anxiety in intimate relationships, my abandonment issues and past traumas. He claimed to understand. 
   Eventually, we found ourselves in a seductive position.
   I suggested that make-up sex was in order. Dude Three wouldn't argue with me...not yet anyway.

   It was the best (and only) make-up sex I've ever had. That's because it wasn't really a fight. After a fight, the guy better stay a few time zones away from me, if he values his life. Unless he's ready to say things like "I'm sorry for sounding like a dick," that is.
   Yes, this is yet another "to be continued" post, but I'd love your input on make-up sex. Does it work for you (alone or with a partner - no judgements here)? 

Happiness, Life and Love & Who Invited December?

December, Dears, wasn't welcome. It arrived regardless. It always does, right?
May it bring you warmth and safety, along with moments of:

Taken on the Greek island of Mykonos, this photo summarizes my Fall trip to Greece.

This one of locks with names and loving sentiment is for the beautiful Lux. She writes with deep sincerity about life, love, and all the big issues worth pondering.

Speaking of love, yeah - he was on my mind the whole time. When I had one opportunity to use the Internet, I messaged Dude Three:

"Having a wonderful time. I miss you. Hope all's well."
Three: "I think about you every day. Glad you're having fun, can't wait to see you."
Yippee!

I was going to advertise this FREE SHOP (also in Mykonos) to anyone in the market. Then, I thought of Rosey. She gives free things away all the time. It's only fair that you get this FREE SHOP, Rosey! Enjoy it and all the cute, trendy clothes. Note the nice panties by the sign.

This flag is for good Martha, the best Martha there is. 

I think you have Greek in you, is that right, Martha? May you wave this flag proudly.

When I returned, Dude Three was the first to know.
His response: "I thought you were coming back tomorrow. Can't see you today. Maybe tomorrow. Friday for sure."

Was that it? Is it over already?

Me: "Not sure what to make of this, feeling insecure. Trying not to be too disappointed. Friday's good, was hoping for sooner."
Three: "No reason to be insecure. I missed you girl. Can't wait to see you. We'll have a nice few days together this weekend."

Phew! Phew?? We shall see...

Love you, my Silliest of Sillies.
Take care of yourselves.

Dude Three and Movie Trivia for Birgit

   May this find you well and in hopeful spirits, my Dear Sillies.
  
   Back onto Dude Three (no, not like that. Not yet anyway) - We sat side by side, eating party munchies and listening to lively, live music at a friend’s gathering. There was a tension between us, a good one. I could sense Dude’s nervousness. And when I tripped over nothing onto concrete, as we walked to thank the party host, I sensed my own tension. Then again, that maneuver wasn’t atypical. Just more embarrassing than usual - first date and all.
   “At least you fell gracefully,” Three said, grabbing the baking dish I’d clung onto.
   Oy vey. “Nah, not at all graceful, but thanks for saying that.”

   I hugged Brandi, the hostess. “New boyfriend?” she whispered.
   “First date,” I told her, “I like him.”
   “Maybe he'll be story-worthy.”
   I nodded, craving good . . . material.

----------------------------------))))((((
    At my place, we sat on my couch and talked about what we'd agreed was a "great" date. Dude shared more about his family.
   When he mentioned his mother’s death years earlier, I found my hand in his.
   A few heated seconds later, I found his lips on mine. Sparks were ignited. An electricity between us mixed with passion, thoughtfulness, sensitivity, and -well- it was 2am before we knew it.
   Naturally, he spent the night, in my living room. Alone. “I’m not putting out,” he'd informed. “It’s too soon.”

    “I agree, too soon. Besides, I’m leaving for Greece on Wednesday.* No 'putting out' before I leave.”

 -----------------------------------(((()))))
   A second date, a few days before my trip, proved even more fun and firework-y.
   Dude Three cooked a stir-fry dinner for us. Then we had some “dessert” on my couch. But not the full extent of dessert. I’m not that kind of girl, not yet anyway.

*Written approx. 2 months after-the-fact.

to be continued. ---

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(@
   One of my closest, most loyal blog friends, Anthony J. Langford, recently published Pseudo Stars. Everything he creates -- be it poetry, prose, or film -- is a class act. Plus, he's Australian. They're great peeps. Congratulations on the book release (and on being an Aussie), Anthony!  

    And now, a Greek scene, in honor of Birgit. Birgit's sassy wit never fails to make me laugh hysterically. And her movie trivia is fabulously fun. 
   My question for you, Birgit and everyone: What movie is this setting from? I took the photo on the Greek isle of Crete.  Let's see who guesses correctly first.