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Guydar alert.
Whenever I start to really miss sex and being naked with a man, it is like a radar alert goes out into the universe and sends a message to men. The first thing that happens is that I become bored with my adult toys and start fantasizing about the feel of a mans hands all over by body. I try shrugging it off with housework, walking and other activities as it screams,"You are horny!" in my ear. There is just something about the right kiss, with tongue and pressure given at just right places....yum. (Catherine SNAP out of it!)
Oh yeah....suddenly Guydar happens.
Always at this point, an old flame, Keith contacts me. My friends and I refer to him as 'Grass Valley man' since he is located in a town 3 1/2 hours Northeast of Santa Rosa and the title always had us laughing on Girls Night out. I dated Keith for a short period back in 2000. He fell madly in love at first sight and tried to take over and command my life. I don't move that fast in relationships and resent being told what to do with my life by someone who needs to fix their own, so we would have these passionate fights, then I would stop speaking to him.
The make up sex was over the top (well of course it is). I was careful to note that this kind of relationship can be very addicting and was wise about keeping my heart in tact. On the weekends Brian would be with his dad, Keith would drive the 3 plus hours to my place in his work truck with all his tools. He would ask me to make a list of everything I wanted done on the place, show up, strap on a tool belt and begin to fix anything I did not like. He usually brought a gift, often jewelry and would take me someplace fun for dinner.
He once built a fort at our place for all the kids that live nearby, but mostly for Brian. The boys loved it and my neighbors thought he was so kind, so he made himself a legend as this handy guy who took care of anything I wanted.
By now you might be asking "...and what is wrong with him...?". There were several problems with Keith, first being that he drank too much when he worked on the house. He is the type of drinker who likes to try and pick a fight when he has had too much. My x husband, Rich and my serious long term men don't really drink, never do drugs and I like the men I date to be this way. Second, he has a very negative, conservative view about the world (very closed-minded) which is completely opposite of me. I am very open to other cultures and have this 'live and let live' attitude about other people's life choice.
Keith could be brilliantly funny and fun when he didn't drink, but put a couple of drinks in him and it was as if toads, rocks and snakes flew out of his mouth at projectile speed. If he couldn't bait me to argue, he would escalate it to making fun of my political beliefs. I have this innate ability to step outside myself and look at the larger picture, so besides thinking he was a jerk I would also note that he could never be around my son. thus the relationship bus stops right there and I get off.
Why would I trade in my peaceful, quiet, happy home life for a man who doesn't offer more of the same? Keith has many good qualities, as he is not the father of a boy from his first marriage and continues a fatherly relationship with the boy years after the divorce. The boy is now living with him and looks upon him as his dad and Keith feels he is his son. It takes a special person to love someone else's children long after the relationship has ended. The mother has serious drug problem and Keith has provided this boy a home off the streets and really is wonderful to the boy. The boy adores Keith and enjoys a nice life.
It was difficult at first to completely write Keith off. He would leave me alone for a few months (thinking I would calm down and change my mind), then leave me these hilariously funny voice mail messages which I would eventually give in to and allow him to take me to dinner. Usually I had something major that needed to be done around my place by then, and NO not just me sillies. But it wouldn't last long, as I would get fed up and tell him to leave me alone. Every time he contacts me and I am not married or settled down with someone, he becomes convinced that it is because he is the guy for me (I just need to get with the program), then let the gifts and phone calls begin. OIY.
Last time, I made him leave in the middle of his drinking session and was done with it for good. He tried to justify the argument, but no amount of good sex is worth the hassle. I like my nice quiet life. Once a redhead is done ... a redhead is done. We just don't go back.
But for some reason he has one hell of a "Guydar" meter. "Guydar" is my term for what happens when a woman (a guy has once dated) starts dating a new guy or thinking of dating a new guy. It is when the X-guy senses this from his past girlfriend, (even when he hasn't spoken with her in months) and contacts said past girlfriend in attempt to mess things up. However, Mr. X-guy doesn't consciously realize this is what he is doing. It's just a type of radar that makes him think about her, then want to find out how she is, then call her, then...thus the term "Guydar".
I can go for months without a thought of dating and as soon as I begin to get the itch again ... BOOM ... Keith finds a way to contact me. All my phone numbers have changed, my employment has changed, my email has changed and he will hunt around and find a way to see if he can get me to talk to him. This time it has been almost two years since we last talked and almost three since I last saw him. Last time he called my cell phone I never returned his call, then cancelled my cell service.
So yesterday, I receive this in my email:
Date: Wed, 4 Jan 2006 22:12:23 -0800 (PST)
From: "Keith _______" <keith_________@sbcglobal.___>
Subject: Hey sweet pain in my side
To: "Catherine ______" < _______________@yahoo.com>
Dear Catherine,
It's been too long a time since we have talked and I've had you on my mind lately.
I remember last time we talked you were having some troubles and I was worried about you. I hope you have worked your way through them with the least amount of difficulty.
How was your Christmas? I hope it went well, and you are doing well and are happy. I hope we can talk again sometime soon. I miss you.
Always, Keith
(You know that guy in grass valley ;-0)
When I saw the email I had that momentary "Oh shit", then contemplated answering, but thought better of it and hit the spam button. From here on out his messages will go to the spam folder and I will never see one again. I have my anti-guydar shield up this time and it isn't moving.
It is a new year, new life, new friends and I can't let an old flames Guydar get in the way of moving on. Looking back only forces us to slam into something that hurts, rather than looking forward where we are headed. Keith is no where near where I am going and contacting him will just start up something that ended a long time ago.
Damn that Guydar though...how do you guys do it?
Until next time-
C
PS. Do us women ever hav "Girldar"?
Upon arriving home last night, Brian remembered he has some math homework and proceeded (after two weeks) to open his school backpack. Inside, was his school made Christmas gift, which really are my favorite gifts. I laughed, as like a guy, he forgot he had it.
It is a book about our home and within the pages he tells about his life. How is it he writes and publishes his first book before me? Within the wrinkled pages of his book he writes that he is friendly, shy and intelligent - a lover of sports, animals, his parents and video games. He writes that he often feels happy, but has been anxious and sad at times in his life. He finds happiness with his dog, playing with his friends and going to sports events with his parents.
He states that he needs more praise from his Dad, more challenges and would like to have more friends. Pretty self aware stuff I'd say. I think I have finally done it, finally got him to the place where he feels safe to share his thoughts and is confident enough to say what he thinks. So many years of working with him...what a wonderful Christmas gift.
And a great way to begin the New Year...
C
PS. Oh shit...if Brian is doing well and is fine does this mean I have to start dating again and actually think about sex, life, fun, men and the like? Geeesh all my excuses have evaporated. I hate it when that happens...
It used to be the best part of a ski trip to the Sierras...the hope of being "snowed in". One year I was stranded with an x boyfriend and another couple, who thought they could get us back together with a day ski trip. A blizzard arrived and we were stranded in a cabin for two days. I was one furious bitch to say the least, and there is NOTHING worse than being stranded in a cabin with an x you don't like.
This time around I can say with great pleasure that I am temporarily stranded at Ebets, and if they could just permanently keep the road home closed I could stay here forever. It has been a nice New Years here in Folsom, and the weather has actually been fun. We have hiked around the lake and above the River - eying all the water with curiosity and trepidation. The air is crisp and I enjoy the peaceful company of my dearest friend. She is Norwegian born (still a citizen of Norway) and we both love hiking in the outdoors with our dogs.
There is a quiet connection with her, sometimes I think it is culturally as our two cultures are very similar. We share clothes and shoes and a love of big dreams. She desperately wants me to be a famous writer and is forever researching ways of making that happen for me. A weekend with her and her family is nourishment for my soul. I am the 'authentic me' with these people. My own family doesn't know me this well. Chris and Ebet jokingly refer to me as 'wife number two' and have collectively been there for me going on 16 years now.
The wind howls like the Hounds of Baskerville behind me as I sit in the office of their beautiful Swiss-style Tudor home in the hills above Folsom. Outside the office windows, the winds blow by at 50 miles an hour reminding me of how swiftly life passes by. 2006 is the year to make my changes...thank God 2005 has come to it's stormy close. I always look forward to the New Year with its new hope and uncharted direction laid out before me like a blank canvas for me to fill.
These howling winds blow out the old and carry in the new as the first day of the New Year comes raging in to California. It's a sweet metaphor for my life. Do I have a New Year's resolution? ...More like a new itch. An itch is much easier to scratch than a resolution is to conquer. I have a giant size itch to scratch this year.
Tomorrow the roads will be clear when I must leave this sweet retreat and return to that from which I came. The itch seems small and easy to overcome from this house upon the hill, but back home, back in that life I long to move far away from, the itch seems as tall as the hill this home rests upon. I often wonder if the barriers I feel are just chains created by the shadows of my mind, or are as real as they seem...?
Being lost is a difficult road, because hind-site is always 20-20. This lost period could be a steadfast path of its own leading me to the great unknown...or not. I have never traveled through my life without a map before, without a clear direction and a plan, a destination just around the corner. This time, I have started across a path for destinations unknown and have thrown away all map or detailed plan. Either I have become insane, or something is calling to be out there in the world of the great unknown. A call so loud and strong that I must follow it.
There are no easy answers, no permanent escapes from problems or life's struggles. I cannot wish an island escape like the characters in TV's Lost, instead I must travel back upon the road I came and continue on my journey - back in my own version of 'It's A Wonderful Life" and my own Bedford Falls. So Santa Rosa here I come...right back where I started from...
Until next time-
C
Roger Miller once said, “Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet”. This is the time when the rains come to Northern California. In a matter of days, the sky cries its tears and changes a drying landscape into Ireland in one full sweep of darkened clouds.
Creeks go from a soft trickle to raging rivers and the roadways flood. It is the Northern California equivalent to a monsoon. Some years it rains from Thanksgiving until April, and many of the homes along the Russian River float out to the Pacific Ocean. Trees fall, sink holes appear and the news stations run around hoping for some trapped idiot who decided to drive through a flooded street.
Skiers watch in anticipation as these rain storms that cross Northern California move on to the Sierras and dictate the snow pack. Building Contractors rejoice as more water enables more home building as kid’s dawn their goulashes and run paper boats down the streets. Sand bags appear at every corner and the adobe mud turns to this thick clumpy sticky taffy-like substance that clings to shoes like some x's cling to the possibility of reconciliation.
The ocean swells with high-energy waves, which force an undertow, and people not from here often are knocked out to sea. The ocean tides are as dangerous as the sharks underneath and the winds howl their secret song. Winter is officially upon us.
One year it rained for 45 days straight as I hoped a plane in Gail-force winds to travel to Houston, then on to Austin to train loan officers. The flights were so delayed that I missed my connecting flight to Austin and spent the night at the Houston Airport. The next morning I caught the first flight out, and on exiting the Austin airport I was struck by this strange sensation upon my face. It stopped me in my tracks. It was the warmth of the sun and I had forgotten what it felt like. I stopped, put down my bags, closed my eyes and turned my face to the sun - standing there frozen like a statue.
Taxi drivers are yelling for me as I put up a hand to stop their shouts and stood enjoying the warmth of the sun. I think I stood there for 5 minutes until I opened my eyes to a smiling cabbie. “You from some place cold?” he shouts. “San Francisco” I yell back. “Well get in honey I am half price for you today!”
KB married Scott three years ago on one of the rainiest days I have ever experienced. It was New Years Eve and they decided to marry at the San Francisco courthouse. The hour drive to the city took me two and a half hours, as the average speed on the freeway was 35 miles an hour. My wipers could not work hard enough to clear off the sheets of rain across my windshield. Several times I thought of stopping, but didn’t want to miss the wedding.
At one point I realized I did not have bridge toll and needed to stop at an ATM. I pulled off, found a deli with an ATM, and was back on the freeway in a matter of minutes. It seemed like God had opened the sky and was using a fire hose to pour water down on the freeway. Visibility was best in the far lane so I crossed three lanes to get there, and just as I did my windows completely fogged up. My father taught me not to panic when this happens and roll the windows down immediately. I couldn’t see my hands in front of my face and tried to remain calm as Brian was in the passenger seat. Instinct took over and the power windows came down clearing the fog. Just when the crisis passed I looked to my left (to push the window buttons) when this huge bucket size splash of water comes out of nowhere in through my window right on to me. It covered my mouth, the side of my face and my chest. I was now soaking wet.
I squealed when it hit me because it was so cold and such a shock. I am lucky I didn’t wreck the truck. Great, now I was on the way to a wedding with half my hair soaking wet and curly and the other half dry and straight. When I arrived at the hotel the check-in was in chaos as the water was coming down in sheets. I felt like I was never getting to the wedding. Check-in took forever, the cabbie we caught from the hotel didn’t know where the courthouse was (rain tends to soak peoples brains), and racing up the steps to the courthouse I passed part of the wedding party leaving. Yep…I had missed the wedding.
Once again the rains have returned.
I am suppose to go to Ebets for the New Year. Luckily, she is already married and the flooding came when she dropped that fish tankin her family room, so I should be pretty safe.
We hope...
Until next time-
C
I believe I am officially sleep walking through the day, but the Christmas tree is down (it was so dry - a spark from my temper could have set it ablaze). I dropped it off at the local tree-recycling center and should have all the needles removed from my carpet by some time in 2009. I can now move my writing chair back to the corner and return to creating stories once again.
I am looking forward to the New Year, as 2005 will go down in the books as one of the most difficult (I hate saying ‘worst’) years since my father’s death in 1978. At midnight Jan. 31st I plan to howl at the moon in rejoice for surviving it. I look forward to continuing the changes I set in place the last few months. We will have to judge where I am on March 31st, as it will mark a year writing this online diary. My how time flies…
Brian will turn 11 in 2006 and moves to 6th grade, the final year before “teenage years” begin. I feel this was our last “Santa” year and am sorry to see them fade away into memories. I love playing Brian’s Santa. Christmas is wonderful when experienced through a child’s eye. It makes me want to have another baby just to start the fun all over again. (Then I think of what the first year is like and slap myself back to reality).
It would be nice to spend Christmas in Ireland next year... but unless Brian’s dad is preoccupied with a girlfriend and her family, there is no way he will agree to spend Christmas without Brian. Ironic, since the man hates the holiday. BAH HUMBUG is is mantra...why he married me, (the Christmas nut) I will never know.
Time for this nut to go put the ornaments away.
Until next time-
CIt has been said that he who has no joy of Christmas in his heart will never find Christmas joy under a tree. This brings me to my one Christmas wish, which I shall whisper at midnight to the stars above.
My wish: Joy.
(Not the man, but the experience of joy).
Yes, I am happy and grateful for many things, but this is not the joy I am seeking. This coming year I wish for...
The joy of completing my children's book.
The joy of publishing it.
The joy of watching Brian's face when I buy the two-story house with his room above the garage.
The joy of reinventing my life.
The joy of new friendships, like Leah.
The joy of good times with dear friends like Ebet, KB, Stephanie and Teresa.
The joy of seeing my mother's face when she reads the book.
The joy of giving back to others as they have given to me.
Joy...joy filled days...a joy filled life.
Feeling it, giving it and living it. What a world it would be if everyone went about his or her lives creating joy.
Hmmmmm...then we would be in heaven.
Listen quietly at midnight, for you may hear my wish flash across the night sky.
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Old wrapping paper, aging ornaments and a drying tree are part of my Christmas tradition, along with...
x's who use this time to reconnect.
Over the hill and through the woods come notes on my front door...
emails galore... instant message downpour…
cards and more...
Maybe they are hoping to score...?
Proof I can run, but just can't hide.
C
Just as I get my little dream moving along (and Anne should read this) my x husband sells my abilities to this woman he knows who provides construction loans and financing for million dollar estate homes. One of her home construction developments is with Build Max who's pre-constructed homes are seen on Extreme Makeover.
She is a older dynamo of a lady who I met with this morning who wants me to process the construction loans and work with her on a marketing plan. She wants me to start my own business as a support business for independent real estate people like herself. She wants me to charge her a heafty amount for my services and eventually expand my business. After looking at her pipeline and future plans I think she would be more than enough business for me - along with my x husbands business. So much for living the quiet artists life.
She also wants me to help promote her... which I can do....very well. I can get her into every real estate function in Northern California...as long as I can go with her. I want to meet her developers...men...lol. She doesn't like public speaking and is even willing to pay me to pitch her to large audiences - we all know how much I love to talk in front of people.
Funny thing...Anne predicted that I would be working with a woman in 2006...doing exactly this. [Anne give yourself a round of applause.]
I just wonder how I will have the time (and energy) to work on my own dream...how do people juggle their family, a business, and their own dreams? How many plates can I keep spinning in the air all at once?
Until next time-
C
Peter, aka San Jose Man has contacted me again. It has been a few months, and am impressed in disconnecting my home phone (I changed to the Internet), canceling my last cell phone and buying a new one doesn't stop him from finding me.
Every 45 year old woman needs a young guy in their 20s thinking we are all that. He is a kind pup and the only man so far who takes an active interest in my Hashimotos and does his own research. He was the first to suggest supplements, and look into other forms of treatment. He always contacts me with his latest ideas...it was like having my own personal trainer. I am sure if he lived closer we'd lift weights together. It would be awesome to lift weights with a guy.
Peter lives in Silicon Valley and has moved into selling Real Estate there. Well of course he is...do you think this business will ever let me go??? I attract real estate people like fresh blood to a mosquito. He is full of dreams and spark, I am sure he will do well. He is some sort of Marshall arts expert and just finished a trip to Japan. He has discipline and has done quite a bit so far - for someone so young. He will make a killing in the housing market.
It is nice to have someone checking up on me. Interestingly enough, he doesn't see me as strong and intimidating (words I hate from men) and finds me open and vulnerable. He worries about me, so he fits right in with my close circle of friends and family.
I recently came to the epiphany that I pick men who don't pay attention to my needs. I pick men who want our interactions to be all about them and act as if we don't see the "elephant sitting in the living room" between us. The minute I begin to question their behavior - they freak. I am told it is the sign of an insincere man. Hmmm....how do they sleep at night?
This is a pattern which began due to some incidents that ocured during my years from 9-18. Finally, in the slowing down of my life and taking the time to take care of myself, I am able to do the work to see the patterns that have brought me to this place in my life. If you want to change your life, you have to change yourself from the inside out. Then and only then will the outside world change to match.
I mean come on...I did say I was going to change my whole life right here in front of you so you could watch through my blog. I have to put my money wheremy mouth is.
It is nice to know Peter, who listens to my needs and responds in kind, is out there and I recognize it. I just need to find an older version of him, although he will tell you no - he is old enough. My girlfriend KB married a man 10 years younger and screams "DON'T DATE YOUNGER MEN"! He does however deserve my friendship and kindness, as I like his gentle soul and only positive can come from knowing him.
And he does live in my favorite part of California...
Until next time-
C
Some days it is best to stay indoors. I have been pushing myself with long hours and walking an hour a day, enjoying this latest cycle of feeling like my old self. But this morning when I awoke to get Brian off to school I knew my adrenals were failing. I decided to stay home, pull out my favorite blanket, read my books and sleep. Exhaustion has set in.
It was a wonderfully relaxing day until I heard my phone vibrate. I went searching for it and found I missed 8 phone calls - two from my mother. Seems I forgot the Democratic Club Christmas Dinner last night. Brian and I were to meet her there, and I completely spaced it from my mind. However, it is just as well since Brian had a book report, his math homework and a health test to complete. It took him all afternoon - until 8:30pm, so we couldn't have gone anyways. This of course, is not how my mother sees it. An apology is never enough as she drags out her most guilt ridden cliché "Well I won't ever do that again"! She has said this about Christmas Eve, traveling with me and my brother, dinner invitations and so forth. I just end the call since this type of guilt parenting pisses me off to no end and I am not about to fight with my mother before Christmas.
It was funny because at about the time Brian and I should have been there last night, we were discussing some questions on his three page health quiz. The conversation rolled around to PMS, and me having to explain it to him (ironically I am pmsing). So I tell him that it is a day where women have these varying symptoms before their time of the month, one being irritability like I was yesterday. (I had snapped at him twice). Just like a kid, without missing a beat he responds "So how long does it last???" "For me, one day" I respond with a laugh. "Relieved?" I ask. "Yeh, but it would be nice if you picked a day I was at dad's house".
After the call I returned to my comfy spot on the couch with my book and fell asleep. I slept all day until my x brings Brian home at 4pm. I realize I need to shop for some groceries and tell him I am running to the grocery store. Now mind you, I am in sweats and my hair is pulled up on top of my head - no make up. Have I not learned from my past shopping experiences?
I think not.
I was racing through the store towards the produce section and as I start to come upon this guy, I glance away because I think, 'Why do I always see cute men when I look like shi*?' For some reason I glance back, he smiles. I decide to risk flashing a big smile back and hope there was no food in my teeth. As he passes to my left he comments, "Wow, you are sure a pretty thing". I was stunned for another 8 steps before I could choke out a thank you at his back. I could have kissed him to death for bestowing such a kind thought at that moment. It was a pure Christmas gift. In the spirit of the 12 days of Christmas ... one wonderful compliment.
I pay for my groceries and was about to cross into the parking lot when the vibration of of a loud la-bamba sounding truck approaches my right. Irritated at the noise I look in at the driver...thinking it is some teenager...but no...
it's Oscar.
I whisper, 'shi*' under my breath and literally grab my groceries from the cart and RUN to my truck. There was no way in hell I was going to be forced to see him and ruin the glow left from the stranger in the store. I swear I run into Oscar at this grocery store EVERY time after one of my rest days. It is like some old date-freak karma.
He looked straight at me - I wonder if he saw through his rear-view mirror my mad panicked dash to my truck and the sound of burning rubber as I raced out of the parking lot. Do I have to drive to Nevada to do my grocery shopping??
No, I'd probably run into Brad there...
Until next time-
C
"According to the wire, you are resting well and are being taken care of by a nurse. I hope she is beautiful and that she has red hair. I don't know why, but whenever I dream of a nurse she always has red hair. Red hair makes a man want to recover his health quickly, so that he can get on his feet and the nurse off hers."
I have an idea of my next little item to write here (when I have time)...kinda a Santa Wish list of my own. The holidays are such a whirl of activity, it is difficult to find the time to sit down and put my musings down in this journal.
I walked Boonie the dog to pick Brian up from school yesterday. Now that I am feeling much better I have started walking. I'd like to join a gym and do some weight lifting, but baby steps....baby steps...
The walk from my x husbands office to Brian's school and back gives me a good 50 minute stretch of the legs. The children at the school love Boonie so it makes for a nice little visit for her. Now, to hear Brian tell his version of school he has few friends and no girls like him.
HA!
Yesterday while walking to his class these two girls walk by me and one whispers to the other "That's Brian Cox's mom and Brian's dog!" They both look up "Hi Mrs Cox can we pet Brian's dog?" "Sure" I answer, not having the heart to correct them and say I am not Mrs Cox (never have been for that matter). While petting the dog, one of the girls says "Brian is the nicest boy in school" and she blushes. Brian walks up and the girls giggle and walk away.
"Who are those girls"? I ask him. "Huh"? he answers. "Those two girls over there" I point to their backs. "Oh that's ____ and ____". "They are cute, I think they think you are too..." He rolls his eyes "No they don't". and looks at me like I am nuts. Meanwhile kid after kid is walking by "Hi Brian, hi Brian, hi Brian..." one after the other.
I have to laugh because he is like me in this area. My girlfriends often say to me "Wow, that guy is flirting with you". "He is"?... (then I want to leave).
Perception of our own world is interesting...
C
God when will the shopping end????
