6-Sep-2006

I have always had a bit of a love/hate relationship with my hometown. Most of my high school years I spent pondering ways to get out - I thought about going to college in Seattle, mainly because that was the furthest place that existed in my mind. I hadn't thought to dream of Russia or Finland or the Ukraine or the Black Sea. Those places hadn't materialized in my very small realm of being. My plans for myself were marriage at 23 (WHAT???), law school, a couple of kids at 26 and 28. One of the problems with this ten year old's pipe dream is that I am, at 26, still outgrowing myself. I don't let well enough alone, and God forbid I get a nagging thought in my head, because I am the Queen of Following Through. Don't ever tell me I can't do something. I'll prove you wrong without thinking twice, unless you've challenged me to a lima bean eating contest. Now, spending so much time here again, I am feeling a little caged in. I wonder what my life would be like if I had to move back here (and who knows, it could happen). My best guess is I would become a bipolar nutcase like my grandfather, who has too much on his mind without any effective outlet through which to channel it. I would probably feel the need to drink every night, and I'm sure, with no way to pursue my career of choice, my self esteem would be dictated by whatever underachieving boy (here I say "boy" because I've only met about three "men" my age in my hometown - from what I can tell, they measure success in how many Bud Lights they can drink in a night - aren't beer guts sexy?) happened to be treating me badly that week. Mind you, I am not saying this is what everyone in my hometown experiences - my girlfriends here are absolutely lovely, beautiful, intelligent women who could charm the world if they so chose. I am just referring to Moody Me, and my own shortcomings. Namely, that I can't ever relax, and that I can only remember about four instances of contentment in my entire life. My restlessness, I have realized, is a controlling factor in my life, one that I won't ever be able to curb, and one which has dictated my unhappiness and my "if only" version of success. The thing is, there's always something to accomplish, always something else to do, and, although I realize that last sentence is completely sad and pathetic, I thrive on challenge. Which probably means I will never be truly happy. And when I see people here, who seem to be happy to take it slow, I can't say but I'm a tad bit jealous. Okay, really jealous. And I wonder where the girl who dreamed of getting married and settling down at 23 went. My guess is some loser boy challenged her to a game of air hockey, she won, and he could never marry a woman who beat him at air hockey. Or made more money than he did.

But on to men, cause I'm done with boys. Last night, I was treated to a lovely dinner by the Louisville Politician, who cooked for me! It has been so long since anyone who wasn't the Designated Driver cooked for me, so I was charmed and flattered beyond belief. He went all out - spinach artichoke dip, salad, steak, potatoes, and for dessert, Snickers ice cream WITH a Snickers bar cut up on top! Seems he's a reader and was patient enough to wade through that 800 question survey I did a while back. He has reaffirmed my faith in men, I have to say. Some people might call me an uppity bitch. I say I'm just a typical only child. Afterwards, I met up with the Dauditor at a nearby coffee shop. The Dauditor is great friends with the Only Boy I've Ever Loved. She had told me a while back that he was headed to Harvard Diplomacy School, and I thought to myself, "That is just where he belongs." We talked in depth about him last night. See, he just dumped his very serious girlfriend, who was getting ready to quit her job at the CIA to move to Boston to be with him. It's just like him to wait until the last minute, when she's given notice and rented her apartment, to drop the bomb that he didn't think she was right for him. He always had a flare for the dramatic. It's what will make him a roaring success when he's running the American Embassy in East Jakarta. Back when we were dating, he would use his flare for the dramatic in not telling me he had gotten back with his ex while trying to convince me to come to D.C. to visit him on his dime. Here's the thing, people. I have spies everywhere. If you're fucking around on me, I'm gonna find out. But it all kind of came together for me last night as I told the Dauditor, "The Only Boy I've Ever Loved cares as much for that tree over there as he ever did for me or anyone else." Please see above, wherein I specify my only-childishness. To TOBIEL, every creature was just as special as the next. He was (and most likely still is) the quintessential Socialist. He feels the weight of the entire world on his shoulders, and I couldn't stomach that, and he couldn't stomach that I couldn't help shoulder that burden. Frankly, it terrified me, who I was willing to pretend to be in order to be with him. But, luckily, he could see right through me. The Dauditor has asked him what happened between us, and apparently his reply was, "She's brilliant, she's amazing, but she's not for me." It's funny, because last night, I said to the Dauditor pretty much those exact words in reference to him only moments before she told me that.  Seems closure comes in bits and pieces over the years. If I saw him tomorrow, I'd offer to buy him a beer. And he'd let me beat him at air hockey without feeling threatened.