PROLOGUE

So often we hear of people and their epiphanies: monumental thoughts or events that catapulted each of them into major life changes or successes beyond compare. As an un-inspired writer, I have been waiting for one of those to crash into me for quite some time now. Some event that will get me off of my proverbial ass and make me tell my tales, the way my family and friends have been imploring me to do for years. Up until now… buppkes. No job to get fired from, no relationship to end in heart wrenching despair and no quarter-life crisis; just coasting along in the general mediocrity lane. Ironically – it is actually the pocket-sized dramas, the ones that build upon each other like a child’s awkward, unsteady, Lego building and seem comical from a few days distance but insurmountable at the time, that brought me here. A teeny tiny green gossamer drama, that led me down the drain and right into my epiphany…

Down The Drain: The Real Story

At least a week had gone by wherein my bathtub was seemingly having some type of drainage problem. Nothing egregious at first, only about an extra 10 minutes for the water to go down but that 10 min. quickly crescendoed to about 12 hours. I tried everything at my disposal, a full bottle of professional strength Drano Max, internal/external plunging sessions (with rain boots during high tide) and a faux “snake” but to no avail. As much as I hated to acquiesce, the time had come to call in the reinforcements a.k.a. handyman. As I am of the belief that I can do everything on my own or live with it not being done, asking for help is always my last resort. I left word with my doorman and then ran out so I didn’t have to bare witness to my own damsel in distress-iness. When I returned home and asked him if everything went well, my doorman loudly replied, “oh yeah, fine, they found a pair of green underwear in there – they may have to tell the building manager”. I wasn’t quite sure which aspect of this was most disturbing: the fact that the entire lobby now knew I occasionally wash my delicates by hand, that I may get in trouble for this or that I was such a bad “mother” to my garments that I didn’t even know one of my favorite underwear had gone missing. To add insult to injury, when I called the handymen to apologize and find out what became of my underwear he explained to me that he had it in the office because he needed it as evidence. EVIDENCE! My green thong, who did nothing bad to anyone, was being held ransom. People’s reactions varied from amusement to anger, I however, was more awe struck by the idea that green underwear were once again destined to play a significant role in my life. They were there the first time I "cleared the bases" (not the same pair) and now they would be the impetus for my epiphany. They are the raison d’etre behind this blog. I miss them still, but it gets easier everyday…


2.19.2009

DATING: Many Times Been Bitten

It always seemed to me, that people might consider a fiancée a determining factor in their dating status. Some of my dates have not always agreed. Enter, Marty. I'm not sure what element of the Marty scenario was most disconcerting to me; the fact that he had the chutzpah to pick me up while I was waiting for another date and his fiancee was upstairs or that he planned an entire date for us that included introducing me to some of his co-workers. We frolicked through the art show opening, talking culture and politics as "ooh, so renaissancey" thoughts danced through my head. That was followed by drinks, at which point Marty dropped the engaged bomberoo. I looked around, certain I must be on one of those shows where they see how much one human being can take before having a total freak-out. Then my inner Jung took over and I asked a few probing questions: (1) Are you kidding me?; (2) Does your fiancee mind that you are dating?; and my sister's personal favorite (3) Now that I have one of you in front of me, what is it exactly, about me, that makes you types think I would be cool with this? I then realized that I was done with our session because my sangria was gone. I told him to get the check and Marty, ever the gentleman, insisted on walking me home thinking that chivalry somehow cancels out cheating. I politely declined. Apparently Marty thought he would gain some points for telling me he was engaged, which "he didn't have to do". Point spread for team Marty - insurmountable.

UPDATE…

Marty subsequently sent me an e-mail telling me he thinks of me often and signed off with a Led Zeppelin love quote (please refer to title). Enough said.
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