Last Friday I was supposed to see the young one. I was excited to see him. Actually, I was probably more excited about the sex. Regardless, when Friday rolled around I wasn’t as interested, even though it had been a few weeks since I’d seen him, and I kind of sort of missed him. Or maybe I just missed the sex with him. Can’t be sure. Not sure it matters. Anyway about midway through the day on Friday I decided I definitely didn’t want to see him.
There was an element of hassle factor involved with seeing him. He doesn’t drive — not that he can’t, or doesn’t have a license, he can and does — but as is common in the fair city of Portland, Oregon he chooses to get around on public transportation, his feet and his bike. He actually lives IN Portland and works in the same area of Portland that he lives (within 30 blocks) so it works for him. I don’t actually live IN Portland but I work in Portland and commuting by bike from where I am is ridiculously dangerous because there is only one way to do it. Barbur “how many cyclists have died this week” Boulevard. I’m exaggerating, but in a city that is number 1 or 2 in bike commuting in our country its amazing to me how many deaths occur and how many of them occur on Barbur. I say all of this as if I would even consider it in the first place. I like to say it, but I doubt I’d do it. I am a creature of comfort and to bike 2.5 hours a day to get to and from work, or to take public transportation which would take about as long, is simply not comfortable. I like my car.
Sidetracked. . . . sorry.
So the young one doesn’t drive, which means if he comes to my house I pick him up, we do whatever we’re going to do, and then I bring him out to the suburbs and he spends the night. The next day, of course, I take him home. It’s a first for me, spending time with a man who doesn’t drive, and I’ll admit it’s odd at times, but I like him and we’re just friends, so it hasn’t been an issue. Or at least it wasn’t an issue until last Friday. I just didn’t feel like being a taxi service. Not only that I was supposed to run 18 miles on Saturday morning and as much as I like him I wasn’t planning on leaving him in my house alone with my dog while I ran for 3 1/2 hours, I don’t know him that well — so that meant I’d have to take him home BEFORE I ran. Yuck. The hassle factor increased.
And above all of that, I really wanted to go to the movies, alone, and then go home and put my pajamas on and climb into bed. So I cancelled on him.
With that taken care of I left work a little early and went to the movies. I surprised myself and actually saw TWO movies. The timing was just too perfect. The first movie ended 15 minutes before the second movie started. Yea, I’m kind of a movie freak. I don’ watch television but I DO go to the movies. It stems from being married to a man for 23 years who refused to go to the movies (because he is a chain smoker and ironically they don’t let you light up in the theater). It wasn’t just that he refused, he did not like, tolerate, or okay I’ll just say it . . . he didn’t “let” me go alone or without him — I know, I know that sounds ridiculous — however, it was what it was and I knew my place and the rules in that marriage and obeyed dutifully.
Let the record show that I am a DIFFERENT person now and would never find myself in a relationship like that again. It only took 23 years to figure out that it wasn’t “normal.”
Again, I digress.
So Saturday morning I was supposed to run 18. But I woke up feeling yucky, which apparently was all I needed to roll over and go back to sleep. I royally fucked up my training last week — but I’ll survive. I am the queen of not following training properly. Why should I be any different now. I am, however, back on track this week.
Saturday afternoon Blue Eyes showed up because we were going to my happy place. Cannon Beach. I had intended to go alone, but when he asked if I wanted company I thought his company would be welcome. He’s nice, considerate, easy to be around and the sex is very good. I expected to share the cost of the hotel with him, but after I said yes he could come he went and took care of the room. It turned out to be a really nice room. The Hallmark Inn sits right on the ocean, on something kind of like a bluff. The bed was situated so that you just looked out and saw the great expanse of ocean. It was amazing, and he paid for it, without me asking him to. I told him I would drive and he filled my gas tank. Considering the cost of gas is off the chart, and I was on empty, that was a welcome surprise as well.
We had a nice time, truly, but as is generally the case, at least lately, and at least with the men I’m choosing to spend time with these days, I was thrilled when it was time to part ways. Oh, but wait. When we got back to my house, where his car was, he installed a garbage disposal that I had just bought, changed some light bulbs on my front porch that I couldn’t reach and fixed that hose thing that comes out of the back of my dryer. THEN he left. He did a lot for me and I was most appreciative.
He also did something different. During the course of our time at the beach he left a few choice “hickey” marks on my body in places no one, but possibly another man I’m sleeping with, would see. He’d never done that before and while I do have a tattoo I’m really not about random marks on my body — I didn’t even like hickeys when I was in high school, but I’m fucking 45, and so is he. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t for my benefit, though. It was for the young one. They have almost vanished, however, and by the time I see the young one again they will certainly be gone so his efforts will have been for naught.
I’m taking my boys (and some of their friends) to Seattle this weekend and then next weekend I need to run 20 on Saturday so I have the same hassle factor as I did last time with the young one so I’m not sure when exactly I’ll be seeing him. Two weeks after that I leave for Puerto Rico so it could be quite some time. There was a time in my life when that would have worried me. When I would have changed MY plans to try to make HIM happy. Happily, that time has passed.
I leave for San Juan in 23 days to spend time with yet another man. This particular man, however, is a bit more special than the other two, for reasons I can’t or won’t explain. But I’m incredibly excited and have what seems like tons to do before I leave.
Yesterday I went to Nordstrom because I need a few things for my trip. There are a few things, but I wasn’t sure which thing I was going to get yesterday, I only had a lunch hour or two. Luckily, I found myself in the bathing suit section. You want to talk about motivation? There is NOTHING, and I do mean NOTHING, that will snap your ass back into your regularly healthy and fit lifestyle than trying on and purchasing a new bikini. Nothing.
The little girl at Nordys was so helpful. I picked out a few things and gave them to her, told her what I thought I liked and wanted and when I finally made my way into the dressing room there were about 20 things to try on, 10 or so tops and 10 or so bottoms. All different colors and patterns. It was fun but when I finally decided on one (and it’s so cute) I realized I could eat no more sugar between now and my trip; I better get my ass up every morning to run as planned; and I cannot skip my lifting days.
All that motivation from 90 minutes in a Nordstrom dressing room.
I’m sure you’re not surprised by this, but the weather sucked today in Oregon. Snow. Rain. Wind. Cold. Lots of Rain, lots of wind, lots of cold. (How warm was it in Hawaii today Jennifer? Or Tuscon, Lori? Never mind, I don’t want to know . . . . bitches, both of you!) Sucky weather notwithstanding, I still ran 5 miles. Ha ha. I just kept thinking “you can do it only 23 days and you leave for tropical weather.”