F*ing Corsage

Last night was the father-daughter dinner and dance. I've been dreading it ever since I committed to going, but I tried to go into it optimistically 'cause half of our experiences of things come from our expectations - i.e. if you go to a part thinking "this is going to be the worst thing ever" you've got a self-fulfilling prophecy and you're not going to enjoy yourself. If you do the opposite, and look for the good parts, you have an easier time having fun.

I wish I could stay I did a better job of being positive, but to say I wasn't excited about the event is an vast understatement. My dread had nothing to do with spending time with my dad. I love my dad, he's a good man, and I like spending time with him. No, my negativity had everything to do with the event in and of itself. For some gals, the idea of dressing up in a fancy dress causes them to make high-pitched squeal-y noises. For some gals, the idea of going to a dance makes them happy. Not me. I've been to only a few dances in my life and I've enjoyed exactly none of them. I have a passionate dislike for those kinds of things - getting dressed up so I can go to a place where I'm surrounded by strangers so I can hang around awkwardly with someone all the while wishing I were somewhere else. A.k.a. my freshmen year valentine's dance, a.k.a. fucking prom.

It's not to say that I'm a hater, it's just that it'd take a very specific set of circumstances for me to enjoy myself at an event like that, and these circumstances were not those. My dad and I don't go for formal, so both of us going to a formal thing together is not ideal. Also, given the place the event was held, there was a fair chance of running into one of my students, and the last thing I want any of my students to see me as is someone's daughter - as a young instructor, I've got to do everything I can to hold onto my authority and being put in the cutesy daughter role (which is implicit in this kind of event) is not an authority-builder.

Right. So, my dad arrived at my house with a pin on corsage in hand. Talk about salt in the wound. I couldn't pin the thing on right, and then when it was on, it kept pulling my blouse down so I was flashing my bra and I re-pinned the horrible thing a dozen times, but I couldn't get it right and the pins kept sticking me. The best part was when we arrived, I saw that one of my students was, in fact, at the event. Or, rather one of my ex-students. I'll skip the details, but this was a non-traditional student who was at the event with his daughter. He had been enrolled in one of my classes this semester until there was a conflict where I was holding to my class policy (as stated in the syllabus I distributed on the first day) and he was upset because he felt it unfair. There was some drama, and he dropped my class. He was right behind us in the line at the door and then again at the line at the buffet. It was AWESOME. Fortunately, he didn't want to talk to me.

Then, later, the icing on the cake was when the event organizer was doing the boring "I'd like to thank" routine and she called up some dude who was a sponsor. "Fathers," he said. "I'd like you to take your daughter's hand." My dad took my hand. The guy continued, "Lord, I'd like to thank you for our daughters..." Yup, it was Jesus time. As an atheist, astonishingly enough, I was not pleased with the prayer. This was a public, not religious, event and I was offended that the guy just assumed we all wanted to pray about it.

In a nutshell, I was tense and uncomfortable the whole time we were there and I found it extremely difficult to pretend otherwise. We left early and came back to my house where we drank some hot cocoa and talked. That was much nicer than the dance and I finally relaxed. If I'm going to spend time with my dad, it's infinitely better if it's a mellow kind of thing. Just let us play cards, or fiddle with something on my car, or cook some dinner, anything else, just not a formal dance with all that emotional pressure to feel all mushy about our relationship. That shit is torturous.

Sorry dad, but when this thing comes around next year, there is no way in hell I'm going again. I'd rather help you rotate the tires on your truck.

I Knew There Was Baggage, I Didn't Know It'd Be a Complete Set

Holy mother load, Batman! We have baggage!

Mr. Curls cooked dinner for me tonight and it was sweet and adorable, even when he was running late because he got tied up at work and even when the lasagna came out runny. I made chocolate fondue for dessert and afterward, we cuddled on the couch. After a while, he said something along the lines of, "Where do you see this going?"

I thought about how to phrase it. "Well, I'd like to keep you around for a while."

"I would like that too. I would like that very much. And, if that's the case, then there are some things I should probably tell you."

The first thing he told me was that he's got two kids, ages 13 & 9. They live about an hour and a half away, with his ex-wife. Whew, talk about a lot to take in. He and the ex were married nearly eleven years, then things went downhill.

We talked about that a little. He was trying to gauge how freaked out I was, and I was trying to figure that out too. I told him, "I've never really dealt with this sort of thing before. It's complex, but not inherently bad. I'm okay with feeling it out as we go." Then I asked, "Is there anything else I should know?"

He hesitated. "After the divorce, I started dating again and met someone. We got married and it lasted about two months before she decided she'd rather be single."

"How long ago did you split up?"

"About a year and a half ago, I asked for a divorce."

"Is it finalized yet?"

"It took her a long time to sign the paperwork, so it's not finalized yet. But, we haven't been together for over a year."

I waited for him to spring more surprises, but it seems that's the whole shebang. Not that I want any more, mind you. Not in the least. That's more than enough for me to process. I mean, fuck, two kids, two ex-wives. That's plenty.

I'm still processing it, feeling it out. The 1st wife and kids is more than I expected, but not a wholly unexpected variety of baggage. The 2nd wife and the not-yet-finalized-divorce is the part that bothers me more. Though, and maybe it's stupid of me, I can't help but want to overlook the beat up suitcases in favor of how he's sweet and thoughtful and all kinds of other wonderful things that make me smile when I think about him.

It's complicated, but we both want to try to make this work. He asked if it'd be okay if he called me his girlfriend and I just did the official Facebook switch-over from "single" to "in a relationship." I mean, hell, I've always gotten along best with the married guys who had kids. Now it looks like I'll get my chance to date one. But, that 2nd divorce better get finalized damn quick. The sooner I can stop thinking about how he's still technically married, the better.

Guys Who Cook

Tomorrow night Mr. Curls is coming over to my place to cook dinner for me. I told him I was excited to experience his culinary skills, and he immediately countered with, "Don't say 'culinary,' it's too high stakes. You're going to be expecting fancy cuisine and how can I live up to that?"

"Okay, how about grub?"

"Ah, much better."

He asked me some questions about my kitchen gear and what kinds of foods I like and said he'd need a day to ponder what to cook. I'm way excited about having him cook for me. The food itself could be interesting, but more than that it's the gesture of it. Buying dinner is one thing, but cooking dinner takes more effort and is riskier. I think it's totally charming.

When my ex and I were together, we'd cook for each other. He makes his own hamburgers and fusses over the seasoning to make sure they're just right. Watching him prepare food for me was always lovely. It's all about the effort. It's like City Girl's post today about how she likes to take care of her guy.

The thing is, in our society, most people consider their time to be at least a little more important than their money. A guy who's willing to cook for me is a guy who gets major points in my book.

I'm covering dessert tomorrow and I decided to go for chocolate fondue. It's fun, it's chocolatey, and it'll be my first time trying to do it at home. I figured that if anyone's up for trying a culinary (I mean, grub) experiment with me, it's Mr. Curls.

F*ing Student Loans

Last summer, my student loan lender told me it was time to start paying them back. In the months since, I've been dumping hundreds of dollars in their lap and making a teeny-tiny dent in the total amount due. It sucks.

The worst part is having a job that pays pennies, and a job that is neither full time nor permanent (ah, the joy of adjuncting). The cherry on top is that the job market's in the tank right now, so being an adjunct is the best I've been able to manage. I keep searching the classifieds and various job websites, but all the openings I find are openings I'm not qualified for. These past couple of weeks I've been cursing my stupidity for majoring in English instead of the vastly more marketable field of medicine, especially nursing. If I was a nurse, I'd have my pick of jobs right now.

Part of the shtick our undergrads get fed is, "Do what you love, the money will follow." Um... yeah. About that...

But, there's not much I can do right now about changing the direction my undergrad and graduate studies went. No, now I've got to make the best out of what I've got. Even if what I've got is student loan repayment and an income that hovers on the border of poverty level. Since I'm not having much luck with job hunting, I'm buckling down on my spending.

This year, I've resolved to really focus on how much I stimulate the local economy with my hard-earned moolah. I've never been a really big spender, but now I'm cutting back even more. It's a blast, lemme tell ya.

One of these days, I'm going to get me a real job, one where I'll earn enough money that buying a plane ticket to see my brother over spring break isn't an expense I can't justify.

Worst Case Scenario

I spent most of the day with Mr. Curls today. The more I spend time with him, the more I want to spend more time with him.

Friday night, when I went out (sans Mr. Curls) and met up with one of my favorite couples, I told them about him and asked them, "How long after you met each other did you think 'this is the one'?"

After they answered, the guy countered with, "So, does this mean that you're thinking the guy you're seeing could be?"

"Maybe," I said. "Maybe I'm thinking it just a little."

Tonight, we ended up sitting on my couch and, among other things, we talked a little about the rough stuff he's going through. I didn't push it, because I've gone through my own rough stuff and I know it can be painful to talk about right away. I told him a short version of the story about my ex and then I told him that everybody's got a history and I wasn't going to push him about his.

"I want to," he said. "I want you to know everything about me." But, whatever it is, he couldn't quite find the words to tell me tonight.

"How long have you been so sad?" I asked him.

"A long time."

Based on what I know about him and what I can read in the things he says and does, I'm don't think the mystery baggage will turn out to be more than I can handle. The thing is, though, I don't know. In the face of an unknown like this, an unknown that has obviously left its scars on him, I can't help but think of worst case scenarios. What's behind the curtain? Is it bad enough to make me walk away?

Whatever it is, I'm really hoping it isn't one of those worst cases. Please, please let it be something I can handle. So far, this guy seems like he could be right for me. He seems like he could be so many of these things that I've dreamed I'd find. He just feels right. It's weird. Weirder yet is how I'm not freaking out about it. Everything I know tells me this could work. It's just that chunk that I don't know that might break the deal.

Now I have to wait and see.

V-day is Annoying

Me: It's February.
Amanda: So?
Me: That means it's going to be Valentine's Day in a little while, and I might not be single for this one.
Amanda: So?
Me: I don't like it.
Amanda: Yeah, there's a lot of pressure.
Me: So what do I do?
Amanda: (laughing) Nothing, but he'd better have reservations made.

Stupid Valentine's Day. I didn't mind it when I was with my ex, but we didn't make a big deal, either. We'd go to dinner, or one of us would cook dinner, and we'd spend time together, but there was no elaborate thing. I liked it that way. I also liked the part where we were an established couple before our first Vday together rolled around.

With Mr. Curls, I'm pretty confident that we'll still be seeing each other in two weeks. But, it's too soon. Valentine's has all this weight behind it, and, well, I wish I could just ignore it completely. I just want to know what Mr. Curls is thinking about it, except it's still kind of early to assume that we'll still be seeing each other in two weeks. So, what's the right balance between broaching the subject early enough to defuse it while also being late enough to make sure it's going to be relevant? Hrm... Maybe this weekend would be about the right time. One week beforehand should be about right, right?

Yes, I'm a bit of a daddy's girl, but not this time

The other day, my dad asked me to go to a father-daughter dance with him. To make matters worse, said dance occurs at the university where I work. Now I'm dreading telling him no, because I don't want to hurt his feelings. However, I'm going to have to tell him no, because there's no way I'm going.

While the idea of going to a dance with my dad doesn't thrill me on its own terms, the deal-breaker comes from the location. I'm one of the youngest instructors on campus and this dance will be swarming with undergrads, some of whom will potentially be my students. The last thing I need is for undergrad students to look at me as being one of them. I need whatever I can hold onto in terms of authority, and going to this event is directly counter to that. Doesn't mean I look forward to telling my dad this. I just hope he won't take it personally. Cross your fingers for me.