Now *THAT* is a weekend.

Wow.  I don't even know how to begin to define my weekend.

Let's just say ... sometimes ... you might wish you were me.

Friday - drinks with friends and Sarah at a bar with hockey AND sound with a vegan lesbian roller-derby-girl bartender next to a guy from Detroit. Was fun until they took the lead with 97 seconds left.

Saturday - Slept in, then went to see a movie with Sarah, had dinner, proposed, she said yes, spent the next hour staring at her ring, and then we hit the bar that has 1,500 types of beer and packed a 10-pack of varied beer to take home and had a couple of nice drafts before retiring for the evening.

Sunday - Woke up smiling ... went to the Pittsburgh Pirates game with Sarah and Aidan. They won.  Yuengling on draft. I won. Sarah and Aidan got to run the bases after the game.  Got home to filter through about 300 messages of congrats from our friends on Facebook. 

We're all winners.

No one can save us ... from Kim the waitress

A long time ago, in a galaxy not too far from where I live now, I had quite a rather funny and unexpected crush that was based kind of on a song that turned into a relationship that ended in one of those full-fledged WTF Just Happened story that somehow seems to populate my life.

After coming back from living in the Virgin Islands, I went back to the newspaper I was working for for a bit, then had a falling out with the new managing editor. Being young and stupid, it was entirely my fault. Long story short ... the boss is the boss for a reason. Listen to what she tells you. Do what she asks. Keep getting your paycheck. Wasn't illegal, immoral or ethically questionable, I was just being stupid.  And I got fired.

Which lead me to the world of Les Nessman ... I got into radio news.  My ex-wife had a job once where their receptionist referred to me as "The Voice" when I called, and lets be honest, I do have the perfect face for radio, and the nose of a news reporter who knows how to ask the hard questions, so I was ideally set for a fine career in radio.  But that's not the story here.

Being young and poor, I had two jobs and I worked weird hours ... was doing radio news from 5 a.m. to Noon, I'd have lunch, then go home and sleep for a bit.  Five nights a week I'd bartend from 7 p.m. to close (2:30), then clean the bar, hit Perkins for breakfast, go home, shower, change clothes and hit the radio station to start the cycle all over again. Apply, lather, rinse, repeat.  One of the places I used to go for lunch was this little deli in downtown Warren that featured old style move themes, with meals named after what they ate in classic films of the 30's and 40's ... Breakfast at Tiffany's was a meal that featured what they ate, they had Bogart and Bacall burgers, stuff like that.

And a really hot waitress named Kim.  

Who I was digging muchly.  Mostly because she was a hot blue-eyed redhead with a great rack and heart-shaped ass. And kinda because of a Material Issue song called "Kim The Waitress" from the Freak City Soundtrack that was a great album that was out about the time I first walked in there. But she had pursed lips and tender hips, and they were turning in my head, as the song goes.

I should have taken that as a warning.  I didn't. As Warren Zevon once said, "I went home with a waitress, they way I always do."  My first wife was a waitress when we were married, I'd dated a couple of waitresses or servers since we separated, and Kim was the last that was an actual waitress when we dated.  But anyway ... no one can save us from Kim the waitress, as the song goes, she always turns me on.

Anyway ... I'd always ask for her section and we always would talk about all sorts of things. She was smart.  And pretty. Oh so pretty. And that bothers me in places below the belt!  But I didn't think I stood a ghost of a chance with her.  All of which matched up to the song.  Especially the second verse: 

"Sometimes she comes with coffee
Leaning over, pouring
I'd like to gently pull her to me
Kiss her, with no warning
Seeing her some sunny Sunday morning"

Me being me, and the flirt, I kept talking to her, asking about her, what she did, what she liked, all the things that a guy does when flirting. And she'd flirt back.  If it was slow she's sit beside, me, not across from me.  And when she found out that I worked for the radio station around the corner, she said she listened every day.  People say they listen/watch/read to anyone who's on that air or in print, but it's a common courtesy ... most of the time it's pandering.  She started quoting me lines I'd used on the air.  Okay, I was impressed.  I figure I'll ask her out.  And I do.

So the day I finally asked her out, it was gangbusters. I asked her out, she said "how about this afternoon?"  I said sure. At 26 I could go a day or three without sleep to spend time with her. The deli was a breakfast/lunch only place, so they closed at 2 and she was done at 2:30.  So we talked. She got my number, I told her where I lived (it was above a business).  She said she knew where it was, and would come over after work.  She did. And started stripping as she walked in the room. It was mad monkey love for a couple of hours, then she got dressed, kissed me goodbye and said, "Let's do this again." No real first date ... no need to wine and dine her ... I'd show up for lunch, she'd just come over and we'd have sex.  At 42, I pick that vibe up right away ... but being 26, I was semi-clueless.

The only thing we ever did together in public was doing the Reading for the Blind ... it was  a community service thing she talked me into doing. We'd meet there and read the stories from the newspaper in a little studio that recorded them, put them on a phone bank for the blind to call in and listen.  Again, this was 1994, the internet wasn't all it is today.  That, lunchtime talks and sex was our entire 'relationship' ... and it was going on six or seven months.  But the sex was good, so I was happy and didn't look beyond the here and now.

Again, being 26, I never put any relevance to us never going out, no dinner, no movie.  She told me after the first time not to give her cards, or flowers, she didn't like them, and not to let on at work that we were an item as her boss didn't want the staff hooking up with customers because it was bad for business.

Yeah, again, all clues that today I'd say "Oh, well, I'm just a side project."  But I wasn't all that smart back then.  Until one day, about six or seven months after we first hooked up. I had a rare Saturday morning off from the radio station. So I went home after going out with friends (didn't bartend the Friday night shift, ever), woke up about 10 a.m., grabbed the newspaper, and headed over to a little diner for breakfast because they had killer omelets.  And I used to work there as a dishwasher, so I knew the family that ran it.  I thought about calling her

This was before cell phones were a commodity and readily available, back when the phone was something on the wall in your house, not in your pocket.  But she and I never really talked on the phone. She'd call me when she was home.  Said she was 'too busy' and I should just let her call me.

Again, all things I should have picked up on ... but didn't.

So, it's a nice sunny Saturday in May, I'm sitting at the diner reading the paper and enjoying both a fine cup of coffee and a Big Jack, I pause on the society section of the paper for some odd reason because a picture catches my eye.  I stare at it and realize that I'm reading my alleged girlfriend's and certified sex friend's engagement announcement.  How special.

I don't say anything on Monday when I see her for the Reading for the Blind.  But I do invited her over Tuesday ... she shows up about 2:40, gets naked, we're having sex, she has no ring on, so I let the day play out.  As we're done ... and she's getting dressed, I say, "Hey, I have something to show you."  And hand her the announcement. 

She looks me dead in the eye and says, "I never told you I had a boyfriend?"  I said, "No."  She then proceeds to tell me that they've been together for five years (she's 24), and he doesn't know anything about me.  She called sessions with me as "going to the gym" and he never questioned it.  She said she'd still like to come over because I was good in bed and fun to talk to.  While both of those are compliments, at 26, I wasn't looking for a sometimes sex thing ... I wanted it all.  So I ended it with her.  

The worst part ... I really missed the Bogart burger.

"Kim The Waitress" ~ Material Issue

Pursed lips and tender hips
Turning, in my head
Writing poems in a corner booth
That I'd die, if she read
Seeing her in but a silver cross
Lying on her bed

No one can save us
From Kim The Waitress
No one can save us
From Kim The Waitress
Nobody can save us
From Kim The Waitress
Always turns me on

Sometimes she comes with coffee
Leaning over, pouring
I'd like to gently pull her to me
Kiss her, with no warning
Seeing her some sunny Sunday morning

No one can save us
From Kim The Waitress
No one can save us
From Kim The Waitress
Nobody can save us
From Kim The Waitress
Always turns me on

She doesn't come around anymore
And that bothers me
And that bothers me
Yeah, it bothers me

Though I don't stand a ghost of a chance with her
She's pretty (and that bothers me)
So pretty (and that bothers me)
And it bothers me

No one can save us
From Kim The Waitress
No one can save us
From Kim The Waitress
Nobody can save us
From Kim The Waitress
Always turns me down

No one can save us
No one can save us
Nobody can save us

Oh, I'm such a nerd, Part ∞

So ... over the past several months, I've been given two hard and fast rules for dating Shoes.

1. Don't break my heart.
2. Don't cheat on me.

Simple enough, right?

Unless you're my brain.  Which automagically starts creating equations and algorithms on how those two rules coexist and work in tandem in a single line of code that's easily uploaded to my brain to allow me additional storage space so I can recite song lyrics, movie quotes, the manufacturer's part number to the bumper bracket for a 72 Volvo or pertinent information such as ... well ... anything but song lyrics, movie quotes, and the manufacturer's part number to the bumper bracket for a 72 Volvo.

So ... as my thought processes go absurdly apeshit with this, as they do with EVERYTHING, I realize two additional constants:

If I break rule 2, I break rule 1, by default.  (NOTE TO SELF:  NEVER, EVER feed gremlins after midnight, or break rule 2).
If I break rule 1, I am free to break rule 2, by default.  (NOTE TO SELF:  NEVER, EVER, get gremlins wet, or break rule 1).

Now, keep in mind I have ZERO DESIRE to break EITHER rule, or feed gremlins after midnight, or get them wet, let alone break Rule 1 in order to nullify Rule 2.  I've never cheated on anyone I've ever dated, lived with, married or stalked.  

On top of that, I've never been happier in a relationship with a woman in my life.  (Apologies to anyone reading this I dated, lived with, married or stalked.) Hell, most of you (well, not the ones I stalked), have said to me they've never seen me happier; and to her, they've never seen me happier.

(and thanks, the checks are in the mail.  Well, if I wrote checks. Or used snail mail. Paypal is much easier.)

(can I add more parenthetical statemets to a blog?)

(Oh, yes, I can.)

(Because it's my blog.)

(Notice how the punctuation is in the inside of the parenthesis?  That's how it should be. Grammar rules.)

ANYWAY ...

So as I was laying down beside a sleeping Sarah, trying to sleep myself, since it's 4:28 a.m., and since I'm failing miserably, because my brain is running all over the place trying to work some logic to combine those two rules into one rule and do it so I can't break either, and do it logically, without using if-than and goto statements because I'm a nerd who's not a programmer ... and do it using binary constants because I'm a computer guy ... I end up sitting here trying to write all this out because I'm a wordy guy.

(See, hug it out. It's easier.)

Yeah, welcome to my world.  Words. Math. Computers. Binary languages. Sleep deprivation. Love. Sex. Beer. Try for the green area around the $1 because you have twice the chance of winning big money in the Showcase Showdown.  And fuck the first prize package because it always sucks.

ANYWAY ...

I've broken it down to this single line of code, which has been uploaded to my central processing unit:

01001000 01100101 01100001 01110010 01110100 01100010 01110010 01100101 01100001 01101011 00100000 00110000 00100000 00101011 01000011 01101000 01100101 01100001 01110100 00100000 00110000 00100000 00111101 01000101 01110100 01100101 01110010 01101110 01100001 01101100 00100000 01001000 01100001 01110000 01110000 01101001 01101110 01100101 01110011 01110011 00101110

Upload complete.  Yay me!

(for the non-binary speaking individuals, that means Heartbreak 0 + Cheat 0 = Eternal Happiness.)

Yay me!

I should have lied.

I know ... the blog title is "Honesty is such a shallow grave" ... but fuck me running, I really should have lied.

Right through my teeth.

But no, I took the high road to avoid being an asshole.

I told her the truth.

And yet again, wound up the asshole.

I know two certainties in my life:

1. Someday, I will die.
2. Someday, I will figure at least one woman out. Before I end up in her version of assholeville.

I'm hoping that the latter happens many many years before the former.

I reached a point in my life where I felt ready to date again. With a purpose. I wanted to find my last first date. Because I'm ready for that. I'm back in the city I want to spend the rest of my life in. And I want someone to share this city - and all the other cities we choose to travel.

So I poke around a bit on line, go back to the tried and true Yahoo Personals. Looking around, I see a couple of women who catch my eye. One of them, we'll call her A, is really appealing in a lot of ways. We email, we chat on the phone, a date is set, she cancels. I extend an offer to reschedule. Said offer goes unanswered for five days. Okay, obviously something changed between her saying 'yes' to the date and her deciding four hours prior to said date she wasn't going to show. At least she called to cancel, didn't leave me to show up alone, wait alone, make some phone calls, get pissed off and leave, alone. Which is why I extended the offer to reschedule.

When she does call back, FIVE DAYS LATER, I'm not at a place I can take the call. It goes to voice mail. And really, after five days of no response, I'll admit I wasn't all that interested in trying to talk over a loud band (what? Me at a place a band plays loud? What are the odds of that?).

So I'm telling a friend this story. Said friend asks to see a picture of A. I send her a photo. She says, "Wow. She looks just like B." (B is an old girlfriend. We lived together for a while, then realized she wanted to get married, have kids, move back to her state of origin. I had no desire to get married, have another kid (or two) or move back to her home state. So those three things were the deal breakers. The long-term angle failed. The short term was great. So it's not like it ended for stupid reasons.)

After hearing friend say, "Wow. She looks just like B." I realized friend was absolutely right. I was attracted to her specifically because she looked like B. We all have a type, nothing wrong with that. However, when A and B could be sisters ... not good. And after I had that pointed out to me (that A looked like B) ... I could not look at her without seeing B.

Which I know is totally unfair to A. I'm sure, based on the hour we spent on the phone, and the couple of emails, that A is uniquely different than B in many respects, and if we had spent time together I would learn the uniqueness of A and see her as A ... not as B.

However, I was once the A in a very similar equation. And I found this out when I met her parents and her mom kept calling me ... the name of her daughter - my date's - B. I didn't answer, because it's not my name, and I didn't notice. It wasn't until said date (actually, girlfriend at this point) said to her mother, "His name is Eric, not 'B'" ... and her mother responded, "Well, he looks just like B."

I'll admit to feeling the fool for a while after that. Like her attraction to me wasn't based on who I am, but who I looked like. That stung.

And when I realized I was on the other end ... that I had the A who looked like the B ... I had to be honest. After a couple of weeks of no contact (ball was in my court, I didn't write/call/text), I send A a message saying this: "Sorry I didn't return your calls. Not going to give you some 'been busy' excuse or other line. I realized I was attracted to you because you remind me of someone else, and that's not fair to you."

Her response: "Well, if my resemblance to her concludes my chances of getting to know you then that is a shame. Because, while I may look exactly like her, who knows if I am remotely like her or not....I guess you'll never know. I hope you're not missing out on a great possibility. Either way, good luck in finding what you seek."

I should have lied. I should have told her I was busy. But no, I take the high road, once again, only to find it leads to assholeville. Where, apparently, I'm the mayor this month.

Seriously ... what should I have done? Waited for someone to tell her she looks like B ??

I'm thinking of going back to the hermit hole.

Love *IS* War ... sometimes :(

When you're in love, there are always compromises to be made.

You like McDonald's, they like Wendy's. Pepsi/Coke; cats/dogs; etc. That's the joy of the compromise. Give a little, and rumor has it, you get a lot in return. Nudge, nudge. Wink, wink.

Then, there are those times when you don't want to give a little. You draw your line in the sand. You pick your fights, hopefully carefully, and figure out which one you feel is the appropriate battle to put your foot down, demand your way, and have the guts to stick out. You find, as a friend said, the mountain to die on, if it comes to that.

What I'm trying to say is every so often you have to say to your partner:

"LOOK. THIS IS HOW IT MUST BE BECAUSE THIS IS HOW I MUST HAVE IT."

Regardless of the issue. Because we all have those things we need to have our way. And hopefully you have a partner who understands, and lets you have those things. And hopefully you're as understanding to the things your partner needs to have a certain way.

I'm presently involved in such a fight with the one I love. Sigh.

And it's a long, ugly, battle. Really long and drawn out. Unending, I fear. Because neither of us is willing to compromise on this particular issue.

It's not a full-time problem. There are many times - in reality ...MOST times - I'm more than fine with the way things are. To be completely honest, I often prefer it the way it is most of the time.

But there are a few times - and I do mean few - where I need this thing to be done EXACTLY the way I want. In fact, I HAVE TO HAVE IT one particular way, without question, compromise, or hesitation on my love's end.

And that's where the problem is. (And no, I'm not talking about anything sexual. Get your minds out of the gutter, ya freaks!)

I'm talking about one of those general things in a relationship that becomes a problem. It's frustrating me to no end because I can't give this up, and my love shows no signs of compromise.

As I said, most times, I'm fine with how things are, which I see as a compromise on my part ... but when it's my turn to have things my way ... I'm left holding my compromise as a shield that, sadly, defends against nothing.

Is that fair?

No, of course not. But how do I make that clear to the other involved party?

Why, my love, can't you see things from my point of view?

Why, my love, must you torment me by NOT EVEN CONSIDERING MY (infrequent) REQUEST to this one thing, this one way?

Why, my love, won't you even attempt?

..

..

Sigh. Anyone have any other suggestions? I tried taking a quick mini-vacation. to get my way ... including a nice rental car (brand new). Hell, I even bought my love a new outfit ... but no luck. My love will not budge.

..

I'm frustrated ...

(Oh, for the record, "my love" is my iPod Touch. The "problem" is it plays everything in shuffle mode.

As I said, shuffle mode is fine most of the time, and in the car, on the bike or at home, I usually prefer it that way; however, when I try to play an album in order, or listen to a comedy album, or spoken word, it's a problem. And it really sucks when you're TRYING to listen to a concept album when the songs don't line up in the order the conceptualizer had in mind.

Worse yet, when you're trying to play an audiobook and you hear Chapter 1 followed by Chapter 25, then Chapter 66, then Chapter 3 ... and so on and so on and so on ...

I'm thinking it's just a software glitch that a good reformat/resynch will fix, but I'm not ready to try that yet. I need to figure out the exact songs I have and want to keep before just wiping the solid-state hard drive and starting over.

But can you give me some points for this take on the whole relationship vibe? No? Please? I'll totally give you points when you have a cool misdirection for a blog idea. Really. Deal?)