Archive for the ‘relationships’ Category

oh, antony! ooooh, antony…
November 13, 2007

The party went fabulously. For the “Famous Ex’s” theme, Ford went as Marilyn Manson and I went as Dita Von Teese. I thought about dying my hair black but instead I just wore a wig for part of the night, before I tore it off and tossed it at one of Ford’s friends, Tom, while lipsynching “Toxic” and bouncing up and down on the sofa in a pink and black corset. Jeez. Jane and Tom dressed up as Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton from “Cleopatra.” Which was like, so perfect, since Jane spent half of the evening insulting Tom and half of it making out with his face. 

It bodes well that Jane and I can still throw a killer shindig outside of the college scene.

Corsets hurt!

By the way, both of my dating situations bombed, partly of my own doing. Things were just too complicated with Alana, I guess I’m not as postmodern as she is. Jealousy was distracting me. It was a deal-breaker when Tennis girl refused to drink anything but beer in one of those beer coozies when I was hanging out with her a couple of Saturdays ago.

So I’m “enjoying the single life.” As in, the voicemail box has been pretty empty. I think I should actually try to start going to gay clubs more rather than straight bars. That would be a start.

halloween party plans
October 18, 2007

Jane and I have decided to have a Halloween party. Our house looks haunted enough, what with the rickety doors and light fixtures (in Martha Stewart world, disrepair=haunted, am I right?) so we figured why not. I haven’t decided what I’m going as yet but we’ve decided that the theme is “Famous Exes.” Ford and I are brainstorming something delish…

I’ve tried to cool down on the girl front. Well okay, I haven’t tried as much as I haven’t had the energy to put in to stoke the desire fires. I haven’t seen or heard from Alana in a week, and we only just had coffee then. Tennis-player and I have gotten together a few times to take walks, but no sparks have flown, and we haven’t even kissed. I guess work is just taking it out of me.

I really don’t mind waitressing, but I hardly have any energy left for even a love life.

hetero weirdness
October 10, 2007

Ford joined me for a rousing kickboxing class yesterday afternoon, to which he wore a grey athletic t-shirt and navy mesh shorts. If it weren’t for the addition of white knee socks with royal blue stripes up the sides, he actually would have looked decently butch.

Well he took the socks off because he said they were “encumbering his high kicks.” ::eyeroll:: But when we came back from class, Ford in his sweat stained gray shirt with his hair all messy with sweat, smelling like a wrestling team locker room, the pheromones brought Jane out of her bedroom like a cobra out of a basket.

“Ooh, Ford you’re so sweaty,” she said, a hint of sarcasm still thankfully lingering in her voice, but with an edge of something that made me want to squeal under my breath and wave red flags in the air.

“That’s what happens when you sculpt guns like this, Jane,” he shot back back and flexed. There was a bizarre moment of silence while Jane gazed. I banged some pots in the sink to break the sound of Twilight Zone music playing in my ears.

Fast forward ten minutes, and Jane is taunting Ford about his taste for Watermelon Smirnoff Ice. Whew.

I am choosing not to think too hard on that one for the sake of my own sanity.

Also, re: waitressing for the rest of my life–no. I’m looking into doing nursing school during the day. It seems like every other job I see online is for some kind of nursing job. Or I might try to check out some business management classes. Boring, but necessary if I want to move up in this world from the position of customer service wench. Wish a liberal arts degree meant shit in this world.

net zero date
October 9, 2007

Date with Grace (woman who is actually near my age) went okay this weekend. It was sort of a roller coaster though…we went out to an Italian restaurant at her suggestion…which isn’t the most original thing in the world, so, I was feeling like, “Ehh.” Right after she sat down, she began talking about this amazing book she is reading by Ariel Levy, Female Chauvinist Pigs, and talking about the misogyny involved in the news coverage of Hillary Clinton’s campaign, and really impressing me with some feminist thought, so I thought to myself, “Eeh!” Then she ordered a beef dish– Eeh. But then I noticed that she had the longest eyelashes in the entire world, which accented these brilliant almost teal-colored eyes– I mean, I’m not going to lie, this girl is gorgeous–Eeh! She’s more into playing and following tennis than art or poetry though–minus a thousand. But she’s also really involved in GLBT politics in Nashville–plus a thousand. So as you can see, the scales were tipped down and back again, and I’m still at about net zero opinion. Have you ever had a net zero date? I felt like I went back and forth at a dizzying speed until I really had no idea whether I wanted to drive her directly back to my bedroom and light some candles or run away screaming. I mean, I’d see her again if she calls me.

I miss Alana. I called her last night and can’t help but think she didn’t pick up because she was with Bill. Blah.

Have to work tonight. Major Blah.

date with Alana and other possibilities
October 5, 2007

She sat me down on a plush sofa, brought me a robust glass of red wine, and disappeared back into the kitchen. Then she called me into dinner in this gargantuan dining area, appeared from the kitchen door carrying two square ceramic plates with a supernova-looking aqua glaze, on top of which she had prepared two plates full of vegetarian sushi with pink radish garnish. It was truly edible art.

“Better to be an older man’s princess than a young man’s whore,” my college friend Danielle used to say when we poked fun at her for dating a forty year old. I hate to say it, but I’m starting to see Danielle’s point.

I know Alana has the money to wine and dine me; she’s one of the rare few who can make good money from figure painting. But I don’t want to be someone’s pool girl, like I said. Still, I can’t say I hate being catered to once in a while, considering that I’m on my feet for six or seven hours most days sloshing trayfulls of booze everywhere.

After some relaxing and a rockin’ back rub, I had to set some boundaries.

Darcy: So, if you’re still with your husband, then…I’m also going to date as well.

Alana<pained expression>: If you’d like.

Darcy: Okay. I will.

So I set up a date with Emma, the girl who left her number for me at the bar, this weekend.

The rest of the night at Alana’s was spent looking at photo albums by the light of dimmed lamps and all of these gorgeous candles she has on sconces around the walls. And there was a kiss or two exchanged. But I’m trying to put the breaks on until I can see things a little clearer. I hope I’m not jumping in too deep here. And even if I am, it beats spending the time watching things like it happen on TV.

quickie
October 4, 2007

About to drive to Kickboxing at the Y, then come home, shower, paint my toenails Amelia Redheart, and see what Alana has to say to me tonight when we have dinner at her place.

The thing is, I got a phone number from a customer last night at work. A cute, sweet, smart, Southern customer. Who’s practically my age.

The potential drama is as thick as the humidity today. We need a good rain to clear the air.

Major updates to come.

how (not?) to date married women
October 3, 2007

After my little Sex and the City therapy session on Monday with Ford and an extensive thrift shop binge with Jane yesterday, I felt I’d exorcised Alana from my system. The obsessive cell phone checks had dropped down to about one an hour, which was an improvement. Sometimes when I’m expecting a call from a woman, I convince myself that my phone actually will not ring or vibrate and that the only way I will not miss the call for sure will be to obsessively check the tiny screen for it to light up with that magic name, at which time my heart will emanate rainbows as I pick up the silent call. I say I’m just checking the time, but please. I’m focusing hard on willing sweet little call to come through the airwaves. Cell phone whisperer.

Anyway, cell phone whispering failed. Then last night, as I was carrying two Goblin Tonics to a table of identical twin brothers with hair down to their butts, I nearly dumped my tray onto the floor when I spotted a sweet looking fortyish woman sitting in the corner, stirring a Shirley Temple. Tania, a fellow waitress, brushed up behind me and whispered, “I think someone’s here to see you.” She offered, thankfully, to take my tables for a minute.

Darcy <approaching table with ‘what are you doing here’ tone>: Well hi there.

Alana: Hey Darcy. <which she says, Dahhcy, and I just melt right there, against my will…kind of>

Darcy: Didn’t think I was going to hear from you.

Alana: I didn’t think I was going to call.

Darcy<raising eyebrows>: I can’t really talk now. I have…well, I’m working. <I see Jane frowning in the background from behind the bar, shaking her head and making the “cut” signal>

Alana: That’s okay, I’ll wait.

Darcy: It’s going to be another two hours.

Alana: Meet me at the diner across the street?

<I look over at Jane, who is now bugging her eyes out incredulously>

Darcy: Ummm…okay. I’ll call you when I get out.

We had coffee at three a.m. She didn’t offer any excuses, except for the fact that she was scared about actually loving someone outside of her marriage. I said I wouldn’t stand for being treated like a pool girl, expected to show up in a garter belt with champagne and strawberries every time her husband was out of town (although, come to think of it, that wouldn’t be so terrible…but I digress!) She was much less forward than our first meeting. Kind of shy. She has such large brown doe-eyes, and the longest lashes. She invited me to dinner at her place on Thursday. I’ll probably go.

When I got back home an hour later, I found Jane in our office, lights off, youtube videos of Mark Wahlberg glowing in reflection on her face from the computer, her ironed-straight bottle-red hair up in a ponytail, with Twizzler hanging out of her mouth. She said, “Well, it’s about time, beotch! What the deal?” I told her Alana invited me over for dinner. “Oh yah,” she said, biting off a piece of Twizzler. “Don’t say anything!” I said. She shrugged, gave me a hug, Twizzler still hanging out of her mouth, and sauntered toward her bedroom. She made a little whip-cracking motion with her hand, and said “wha-chh!” and shut the door. Whatevs.