Woeful Weekend, now what?

It’s Monday. If you live/work in DC chances are you won’t be reading this because it is a Federal Holiday and you have the day off from work. So hopefully you are out and about enjoying the great weather today. Reason #1,653 to hate my law firm life – no observance of Federal Holidays.

To make this day just that much more enjoyable, WMATA planned major track work on the Blue/Orange lines that would keep all the stations near my office out of commission over the weekend (no big deal) and then also today (uh…how am I going to get to work?) My normal bus route also doesn’t run on Holidays (seriously Columbus, you are really screwing with my day today) so I had to plan a complicated alternate route into work today. The little 4.5 mile distance between my apartment and my office ended up taking roughly 2 hours. Really, I should have just walked.

So all this free time on my hands this morning gave me too much time to do what I am a gold medalist at -- thinking too much and worrying.

I emailed two close friends recently, not really to discuss anything in particular let alone anything that I have on my plate right now (because sometimes you know better than to burden other people) but I referenced this sort of funk I go through every year – Birthday Hangover. The BH has nothing to do with if there were any real fun celebrations or activities that one would need to actually recover from (although I was so very happy that this year there were.) I think I tend to view all my adult birthdays as my own annual performance review for my life – what progress has been made, what goals have been accomplished, what are the areas for improvement, where might there be cause for concern. And someone else should really start doing these reviews for me because I am way too harsh on myself for my own good. (And as a side note, no, I was not as harsh on Temp Assistant!)

Saturday was kind of a sad day. I can’t say that it was any one thing. Probably more of a culmination of the feeling of too many things going on or too many worries lately. So I just spent the day alone. Like all alone, did not leave my apt, alone. I can be a bit of a hermit sometimes, usually it passes just as quickly as it happens. I was supposed to go out that night, but the plans fell through and I guess it was just as well. I probably wasn’t great company for anyone anyway.

Yesterday I tried for a better day. I forced myself up early and out of the apartment to run errands. Between groceries and other bags there was too much stuff to take up in one trip. First trip done and I thought “Oh it would be smart to take the trash out when I go for the rest of the bags!” So I did, feeling pretty darn proud of my being so effective and efficient. And I guess to balance out all that smart thinking, I realized on the way back from the car to the apartment that I my apt keys were back IN the apartment. That’s right, I had managed to lock myself out.

Yes, I keep my car and apartment keys separate (because I only ever drive on the weekends.) Yesterday I was just grateful I at least had my key card to get into the apt building. I am guessing from the crack on it that it had managed to break OFF of my apt key ring – awesome.

“Ok,” I thought quite calmly, “I will just go to the Property Manager’s apartment and pay the fine and get let back in. Sh*t happens, what can you do.” So I went to their apt (located in my own building thankfully) and knocked. I saw their one car outside which was a good sign, and I could hear the television on through the door. So I knocked again. I knocked LOUDER. I used the actual Door Knocker (maybe they were being a stickler about that?) and NOTHING. No response. I was knocking at all sorts of levels in various patterns and with varying amounts of force for a good 30-40 minutes. I tried knocking on other people’s doors and no one answered. Probably just as well because what was I going to ask them to do for me?

Now I panicked. What was I going to do? I had no phone to call anyone and didn't even have my wallet, it was all locked up safe and sound in the apt. Roommate was not going to be home for another couple days. I had the car key, the key card for the building, the shopping bags and that’s it. So I hauled my shopping bags back OUT to my car, got in and drove to my friend K’s apt. Literally praying Hail Marys out loud in the car to both calm myself down and ask God to please do me a solid and have her be at her apt.

I parked the car and ran up to the door…and could not for the LIFE OF ME remember her apartment number. So I just started dialing the different numbers on her floor – hey, at least I knew the right floor. And sometimes people would pick up, and sometimes they wouldn’t. Sometimes they spoke English, most times they didn’t. A few people got very nasty with me. One told me to leave before they called the police -- in hindsight, maybe I should have let them as my next thoughts involved going to a police station cause I didn’t know what else to do at that point. So after yelling her name a few times on the verrrrrryyyyyyy off chance she could hear me, I gave up and went back to my car. I got in and shut the door and just cried.

Cried because I was frustrated with myself and the situation. Cried because I seriously had nowhere to go and didn’t know what else to do. Sadly we have NO friendly neighbors in our apt. building. Not one. We have 2 groups that are always outside smoking so I thought maybe I could ask one of them if I could use their phone. But who would I call? The only number I know by heart anymore is my Pop-Pop’s. And he lives in New Jersey, so I don’t know what he could do to help me.

I was driving back to my apt, still crying because I felt so very alone. I didn’t have anyone who might try and text/call me and get concerned if I didn’t respond. I had no one expecting me somewhere on a lovely Sunday evening. I had nowhere to go and no one to worry about me.

Rational Deviled Megs was trying to think:
“Well couldn’t I just sleep in my car if I have to?”
“Hopefully the Prop Mgr will be better about answering their door during normal business hours tomorrow.”
“What if I sleep in the hallway outside my apt - will one of my crappy neighbors have a heart and realize something is wrong and offer to call the Prop Mgr for me?”

But she was getting wayyyyyyyyy overshadowed by Anxious & Worrisome Deviled Megs:
“Wait, is the Prop Mgr office going to be closed for Columbus day?!?”
“I can’t believe I know no one’s phone number that could help in a time like this.”
“Where can I go? I have a car but do I seriously have no place to go??”
“I can’t remember when I have ever felt this alone and helpless.”

And that last statement is a doozy. Because I do just about everything on my own and have for a loooooong time. I had a thought a while back that I was getting worried that just because I have gotten so adept at being self sufficient and independent that people just expect me to be okay that way, or worse, think that I really enjoy it. I do enjoy that I have the capability to do it. I don’t enjoy that yesterday I realized I could be in trouble or need help and have no one to worry about me or come looking for me.

Then Rational Deviled Megs took over and said, “This is bullsh*t. Someone is HOME in the Prop Mgr’s apt. So I will go back there and bang on that door until someone answers dammit!”

Which is what I did. Banged and pounded on the door for about 20-25 more minutes until I then started shouting AT the door. I had even found a pen and paper in my car and scribbled a PLEASE HELP note that I was ready to slide under their door until the Prop Mgr’s husband finally answered the door. And gave me such an angry “Why are you interrupting my watching football look” that I started to cry again. As I explained my situation I think he genuinely felt bad for me and gave me the keys to go upstairs and let myself back in to my apt.

I have never run up those stairs so fast in my life. When I got inside the door I felt such a wash of relief I almost needed to sit down. I collected myself and went back downstairs to return the keys. I thanked him profusely and returned back upstairs to my apartment.

And like that, I was alone again. I was still kind of upset about the whole ordeal and called my Mom. No answer. She regularly screens calls and sometimes I don’t make the cut so I didn’t even feel like trying to call her other line. And calling my Dad (if he even answered) would have gotten me a long lecture about how to NOT lock myself out of the apt.

I tried convincing a friend to come have drinks with me, watch some football/baseball. As usual, I got a “No.” Another friend was off on a date, so…back to being alone. At least now I was INSIDE my apartment, so it was definitely an improvement over crying in my car, don’t get me wrong. But you know when you have something bad happen, or even just a crap awful day, and the last thing you want or really even need is to be left all alone. That was me last night.

I don’t really know how to wrap this up and give it all some positive uplifting ending. I don’t feel horrible about the getting locked out (I mean, sh*t happens) and I don’t feel like “woe is me” that I didn't have anyone to turn to at the time. But I do feel….something. I wish I knew how to describe it so maybe I could start to UNfeel it.

Is there anyone else out there who has felt something like this before with some words of wisdom? And don’t tell me how to NOT lock myself out of the apt. in the future, my Dad’s got that one covered.

Tales from the Trenches Tuesday

Once again, I almost forgot it was Tuesday then thankfully remembered and dropped everything I was doing. Well, not really…I was quite productive this morning so I think a leisurely afternoon has been earned today.

I was honestly thinking about this when I was brushing my teeth this morning, wondering who I should dig up from my files. Then MDIYL started pestering me today by Gchat. And email. AND BY TEXT. Dude is clearly covering all his bases. So I am guessing it’s a sign from God that I should write about MDIYL today. Or that I should simply give up and head straight to a convent. Or maybe both.

I started dating MDIYL at a weird-ish time in my life. I had recently switched jobs and had gotten to a point where I realized I pretty much hated the new job. I also wasn’t crazy about my living situation at the time and had some of those other sorts of stresses going on. So dating MDIYL was a fun distraction. The equivalent of dangling some shiny, jangly keys in front of a crying baby to distract and temporarily soothe them.

We didn’t have a ton in common but I guess since he was just shiny, jangly keys, that didn’t really matter. We talked a lot about baseball (that’s usually on my list of stupid things I always fall for) and had somewhat-similar senses of humor. And we had good chemistry. So that was all well and good enough for a couple months worth of distraction, right?

Well yes….but then the cracks and caveats started to show. First in small ways...he used to use wayyyyyy too many emoticons in emails. For anyone older than 12 anyway. And he used to leave drunk voicemails, sometimes on my work phone so I didn't even get them right away.

Then the cracks and caveats started showing in a major way. Once we made plans to meet up after a baseball game he was going to with one of his friends. He had called to say he was tired and would just stop to pick me up on his way home. After I had gotten in the car and he pulled away from the curb I realized that “tired” was actually “drunk.” We managed to make it to his house before he then hit a car in the parking lot. Not a wreck (thank God!) but enough scratching and denting that I felt he should leave a note.

I was then told that he did not need to leave a note because his car was better than the other car, something about Mercedes vs. BMWs….not a plausible argument to me but what do I know, I was dating someone who left me drunk voicemails at work. This then escalated into a fight where I was told I was being too dramatic (as a side note, if there are any guys reading this never, I repeat NEVER, tell a female they are being too dramatic, even if they are.) Things were somehow resolved and a note was left, although I don’t think I asked to see what was actually scribbled on the note, so who even knows if it was about the car damage. Or if the note was even legible at that point. Perhaps it was just the proper emoticon that conveys the message of "I drunk hit your car and I don't care."

A few weeks later we went to see a comedian at the Improv and afterwards I stayed over at his house. (And as another side note, I had about a 5 year stretch where I lived with guy roommates. So to avoid the fratastic heckling that went along with having a guy sleep over at my house, I rarely let anyone I dated stay over at my place.) The next morning, we decided to go out for breakfast and when the bill came, he made me pay for half because we hadn’t had sex that morning. I guess I hadn’t earned my breakfast? I don’t really know... I wish I was making that up but sadly I am not.

So obviously, I let things start to fade after that. It was one of those situations where I didn’t think there needed to be some formal “We need to talk….” conversation. A gradual fade would do juuuuuuust fine. And it was working. We were spending less time together. Calls and texts got farther apart. The fade out was working just as it should.

Until one night. He texted me and it was a little pushy. I couldn’t tell if he was being mean or joking or really what he was trying to say. I do remember I was bored so I took the bait and texted back. After a few back-and-forths, he sent me a text that made it clear to all concerned that we would not be seeing each other any more. It also made me die laughing (not the effect I think he was going for) and show my phone to anyone and everyone around me.

On the screen of my phone was a simple text – My Dick Is Your Loss. Does it get much classier than that? If someone has something better, trust me I would LOVE to hear it.

Tales from the Trenches Tuesday

I was giving today's posting some thought after yesterday’s semi-somber posting... then something happened as I was leaving work yesterday that let me know exactly what tale I should tell you all today.

As you may know from some of those commercials that seem to be everywhere, online dating is pretty mainstream these days. I have done my fair share of it, as has just about any single person you know, whether they admit to it or not. I have met (a few) great guys, (a bunch of) fun guys that turned into friends of mine, and (a lot of) crazies, creeps, *ssholes and weirdos. One site touts some data point that today 1 in 5 relationships start online. I believe it, I have met that 1 a couple times. But more often I have found myself seated across the table from one of the other 4.

Even with online dating being much more out in the open these days, I am still a HUGE proponent of withholding some of your personal information from the get-go, until you see if this is person you may want to get to know better and not just one that is going to end up in the crazy/creep/*sshole/weirdo bucket. So I actually have a separate email account that I use for that purpose. It’s good because then they can’t google search you or find you on facebook (trust me, it happens and it’s creepy) but they also don’t have your full name. I once had somoene give me a bit of a hard time about that when I eventually gave him my “real” email address after things had progressed for a bit. But seriously, TRUST me on this one. ALWAYS start out with an email address that is something other than your actual name or the email address you use for regular correspondance, facebook, twitter, etc.

I had gotten an email from MC who didn’t have a photo posted on his profile. While this should usually be a little red flag, if the email is a good enough one (i.e. something funny that makes me laugh), I will often respond. In DC, it is not uncommon for people not to post a profile pic because of a job (CIA, FBI…you get the drift.) So we eventually began corresponding through direct email, albeit my “other” email account. When MC would find me online at the same time as him, he sent me chat messages. The little red flags became a little bigger when he was really vague about some topics – what area of DC he worked in or what he did for a living. But again, I tried to just overlook them a bit - could be another DC job-related reason for that.

Then MC finally sent me a chat message that had some more detailed information. He was at a conference in Vegas. Standard enough, who hasn’t been to a conference in Vegas? But it was going on at the exact same time as another conference I knew that was talking place in Vegas. One my assistant happened to have helped plan a very pricey and lavish reception at for a group of attorneys I work with. After asking a few clever fact-gathering questions (Nancy Drew ain’t got nothing on me!) I realized that this person who had found me online was one of my attorneys.

Whose office is on the same floor as me.

And who is MARRIED.

Oh yes, you read that right. Dude is married. I immediately blocked him from chat and email and had a strong urge to take a shower with all of my clothes on, that’s how gross and skeezed out I felt after this horrible realization. So while I don’t think online dating is the worst thing going out there, I do think that ladies should be careful because there are some Married Creepers out there on those sites.

Oh and yesterday? I was running for the elevator trying to get out of work at a decent time. I was bent over trying to dig my Metro card out of my bag before the elevator arrived when I heard someone else walk up to the elevators. And when I looked up, there was MC totally looking down my shirt as I was leaned over rifling through my bag. And again I had that overwhelming urge to take a shower with all my clothes on.

Most. Awkward. Elevator. Ride. Ever.

Do you know how many different flavors of Combos there are?

Seven. There are seven different flavors. I know, I thought there would be more too. But I counted them, and out of curiosity checked on the website today, and there are seven. (Zesty Salsa Tortilla and Jalapeno Cheddar Tortilla not pictured)

Counted? Yup, I did. And wouldn't you know there's a funny story to go along with that.

I took a day trip with L out to her parents house so she could water the flowers while her mom was away. It was a great day for a drive, and the promise of a stop at the Outlets on the way home made it all too enticing to pass up. After the plant watering had wrapped up (L watered, I supervised) we made a stop at Sheetz to get a drink and a snack before heading to the outlets.

While standing in front of the fridges, pondering the drink selection, up walks my ex's Dad to say hello to L. (L is friends with ex's sister -- because THAT is how small my world is) And as that happened, I snapped my sunglasses down on my nose and took a sharp turn into the chips aisle and hid out. Trying to stifle my "is this really happening" laughter and focusing my gaze on the combos display. Those reading this that know me (a big HEY! to all 4 of you) know that this kind of sh*t happens to me all the time. But all I could do to keep from laughing out loud was staring at those combos and trying to just stay hidden.

Why did I hide? I don't know, first impulse I guess. But after the coast was clear, one of the first things L said to me was "When I saw him walking up, I was just hoping you would see him too and run away" Good to know that others have "flight" as their first response to that scenario too.

Other highlights from this Sheetz trip include:

A guy in line behind me buying four 24 oz. cans of PBR. I may be wrong, but I don't think it was even noon yet.

A mom in the line, a few away from the register, yelling "I NEED THE MILKSHAKE, COURTNEY!" to her child who was on the other side of the store. Again, it was not yet noon, but maybe milkshakes count as breakfast?

I know what many of you must be thinking and I wholeheartedly agree -- these things would NEVER have happened at a Wawa. Lesson learned.