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October 29, 2004
update to "about that date"
well, well well.
apparently, my worries about fucking everything up (while perhaps a reflection of my insecurity and past experience with dating amazing people) were so damned amusing to the tall lanky one, I'm absolved of all worry for the next three months, at which time we will re-examine the issue of "will I fuck things up just by thinking too much and saying everything that comes to mind and being my damned adorable self?"
yes. I know. he's a lawyer. good thing I find that hilarious.
Posted by Heather at 04:27 PM | TrackBack
October 26, 2004
about that date from a few days ago..
it went well.
and then we had a second date. and a third date.
and survived a viewing of team america - we both laughed so hard our sides were fit to bust. (yes, I did just say that very silly silly thing. fit to bust. curse you for invading my vocabulary with silly silly phrases like "fit to bust")
the fourth date was the kicker. damn, that man is funny and smart and fast and tall and gorgeous. I'm only human, I was teetering before, but I totally fell into a puddle of smit on that date.
And the fact that every single place we went to played "Let's Get It On" was, like, well, a sign from the gods or whatever.
Man, I really, really, really don't want to fuck this one up.
and that wish, to not fuck this one up, has gotten me through the fifth and sixth dates, it seems...but I'm just wondering, well, where I want things to go from here.
I never got the pamphlet on when it's not creepy to do the whole "what's going on here...are we dating, are we just having fun, should I put the heart out there or should I keep it in the vault where I usually put it" conversation...I have been sitting here, IMing and e-mailing with friends to re-hash the phone calls and the IMs and text messages and, yes, the dates, in detail...and what I came up with is : we've been having this conversation all along.
oh, it's nothing like in a sitcom or romantic comedy/drama, where the couple sits down on a park bench in manhattan on a fall day, cups of coffee in hand and earnest looks on their faces, to have a conversation that starts with the thesis statement: "where are we going with our relationship?"
no. I try to be that kind of linearly defined conversation-having person but, try as I might, I'm totally not that person.
I'm becoming the kind of person:
- who, while realizing that pinning the conversation down to a specific "what are we doing here?" will, in effect, kill the conversation, chooses instead to enjoy letting the conversation meander around the whole dating question.
- who totally realizes that the butterfly analogy is total giddy-girlishness and should probably be edited out instead of being left in the raw on he website.
- who swoons when he asks me to join him on an upcoming trip to italy and raves about city living and tells that amusing story about hating hiking but remembering how we walked two hours out of our way to find just the right costume for halloween.
- who sheepishly reveals the "looking for love online and ending up with 100 dates in 30 days" story to delightedly hear his amazingly similar "looking for love online and ending up with one date a week for a full year" story.
and I've realized, I don't really care where we're going. or what we're doing here. I just want to enjoy this. I'm thoroughly enjoying it, so far, and we're totally getting along, better than I thought it could go.
so anyway. I'm just sitting back and enjoying being one half of a gorgeous, tall, whip-smart witty couple-about-town.
oh, did I mention his six pack? and that when he moves it's like steel anacondas writhing for position under his smooth, smooth skin? cause I meant to mention that.
Posted by Heather at 04:49 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
October 20, 2004
wedding cake midnight snack
so, I took home a huge hunk of seth 'n' debbie's wedding cake - enjoying the fact that plastic-wrapped pastry felt exactly like a big ol' heavy boob.
this boobishness aside, I brought a slice of this cake to my room, to be enjoyed while watching the man who made me his bitch on the tivo. And while I was settling into bed, cakeplate in hand, I remembered the old wives' tale - the one that says if you put a piece of wedding cake under your pillow, you'll dream of your future husband.
Of course, I considered it, for, like, a nanosecond before all other considerations crept into my head:
yes, they're all silly arguments. but so it goes. it was midnight, and I was hungry.
how the hell do you sleep when you're thinking of the laundry you'll have to do in the morning?why would you waste a perfectly good piece of cake on an old wives' tale?
what happens if you dream of your starter husband instead of the 'real' husband - do you get a do-over with new cake?
midnight snack of wedding cake = perfect dreamless sleep.
Posted by Heather at 12:17 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
October 18, 2004
a short (happy) story, told in pictures:
I went to my friends' wedding on Sunday -
it was a beautiful day - one of those clear blue chicago days that has children of the 80s thinking "ferris bueller's day off"
I was the best man's bracelet for the afternoon, so I got a sweet seat at the head table, and I also got a sneak peek at the best man's toast.
Jared moved around too much to get a good unblurry pic, but I'll post this one anyway...who knows when next we'll see him in a tux!
Cheers, Seth and Debbie - many happy happy days ahead!
Posted by Heather at 11:41 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
October 14, 2004
The Subconscious Marketer
I was completely in love with the artist across the hall. She was amazingly, enchantingly, uncompromisingly beautiful, with a long, slender neck, gently sloping shoulders, wide, rounded hips, and incredible dancer's legs.
She kept her red hair in raggedy braids, into which she inserted wires so she could position them into funky shapes radiating from her head.
"Like Pippi Longstocking" she said, when I asked her about her unusual, door-frame-threatening hairstyle.
I loved everything about her, from her looks to her voice to her ability to easily perform any task, no matter how complex, from changing a tire to pressing molten sand into glass sculpture to improvising recipes for vegetable-based stews. I'd come home from a long day of school and study and work and she'd be waiting for me at my door, "my snake just laid an egg and I'm wondering if you'd keep an eye on it while I finish the peking duck" or "would you stand here for a couple of hours for me? I'm learning sandstone carving and I want to make sure the curve on this shoulder is perfect."
She was infinitely capable, amazing to watch, but her paintings belied her confident uber-competence.
In her painting assignments, she was a little girl. a cyclops. a crinkly crone. Her ungainly, ugly, pear-shaped, self portraits were difficult to reconcile with her perfect porcelain midwestern beauty - but self-portraits they were, and she painted each one to highlight a different aspect of her imperfect personality.
I asked her, one afternoon, after a showing titled, simply, "portraits", if her paintings were supposed to portray an inner struggle that I had somehow neglectfully failed to notice.
I wondered if she really saw that face in the mirror, with the enormous nose and the scraggly hair. If her self-portrait as a drooling one-eyed monster holding an upside-down textbook was supposed to be telling me something.
and I'm not sure I believed her when she said "no, I'm just exploring the boundaries of portraiture..."
I know that this statement, oh-so-long-ago, was meant to begin a conversation about the ol' art-review chestnut: "which is more valid: artist intent, or viewer's reaction?" and I remember participating wholeheartedly, nodding at all the right moments, agreeing enough to appear friendly, but arguing just a little bit in order to keep the conversation going for the rest of the evening...
I know, you're wondering "why are you telling me this story, heather?"
And I'll reply: "Well, it's been a while since I've had that feeling of overwhelming interest. . . the feeling that I want to know every little thing about a person - and then I want to ask about every little thing again and again..and I think it may be happening again.
we're going on a second date tonight, in fact.
This young man has a totally interesting and unusual name, an even more interesting background, and quite a contrastingly boring (but lucrative!) career.
he's so interesting, in fact, that I had to stop to think "is it just because he's new? or because I'm feeling insecure?
but I'm thinking, no, he just gets me in just the same way my arty-mc-arty-pants friend did...with amazing skills and contrasts...and I can't wait to see what happens next.
I promise, I'll tell you if he asks me to help him with his sandstone carvings...
Posted by Heather at 08:43 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
October 06, 2004
still spinning.
yeah, the vertigo is still sucking my soul dry this week, but rob brezny's free will astrology predicts the weekend won't be too shabby:
ARIES:
When actress Mia Farrow was still a teenager, 59-year-old painter Salvador Dali asked her to dinner. As an appetizer, he served her butterfly wings on crackers. "They had almost no taste at all," Farrow told Gregg LaGambina in *Filter.* But she was nevertheless thrilled by the artfulness of the gesture. I expect you'll encounter a similar phenomenon in the coming week, Aries: an exotic treat that'll be rich in symbolism, though not particularly substantial. And that might be just what you need most.
funny, when I had butterflies, they tasted like rust...she must have had special surreal butterflies...
Posted by Heather at 08:28 AM | Comments (7) | TrackBack
October 01, 2004
the coolest thing I've read all day
okay, the rest of the story is kinda silly, but the first line is awesome.
oh, and: I'm totally Jon Stewart's bitch, now that I'm halfway through America: the book and I've laughed out loud, like, three times per page.
that's about three-times-per-page more often than I've laughed at any other book I've read in the last month, mind.
excuse me while I google-stalk my newest crush.
Posted by Heather at 09:15 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack