Warm fuzzy feelings

  It's been a month since I've been back with the Russian. I'm very happy. It's such a weird feeling. It all started when my friend said he saw him at a store one day. I bombarded him with questions.
  "Did he look good? What did his hair look like? Was  he tan? He gets really tan in the summer?"
  After that, I couldn't stop thinking about him. So, I texted him. The rest is history. We desperately missed each other. Our reasons for splitting weren't really valid. I felt we didn't see each other enough. Now, I'm quite fine with it. I like my time to myself. I felt we didn't have much in common, but I find it actually makes our conversations more interesting.
  We split not long after Bob died. I was in a very bad place. I think I pushed the world away from myself. I felt like we wouldn't last, so why not  end it. He had the same weird philosophy. He felt we may break up in the future, so he thought it better to split.
  The odds are probably stacked against us. We're very opposite  - He's tall, lean and dark, I'm short, hefty and pale. There's quite an age difference. But, it works. We're enamored with each other. He treats me so well. Every time we meet, he brings me a cute card with some sweet message inside. This  is accompanied  by chocolate or something  yummy to eat. I've never had anyone compliment me so much. He's constantly  telling me I'm beautiful. No one I've ever dated before  has done that. I feel good about myself with him. What an impossible thing to happen. A man that can make that happen is a miracle worker.
  I won't lie, he's damn easy on the eyes. Plus, our chemistry is undeniable. When we're together, we smile at each other like fools. We're disgustingly happy around each other. It may not last. Hell, the world may end tomorrow. I say let us enjoy it while it's here. 

It's back

  My cable and Internet are back on. That night, after work, I soaked it all in. I was literally simultaneously watching True Detective on a tablet, the running of the bulls on TV and reading Buzzfeed on my phone. I was like a mutant superhero that gets its power from electricity. Silence is for Buddhist monks. Give me noise. V thinks he bonded with the cat over our three days of missing media. I only bonded with the pits of despair. 

  When I'm fighting through something physically rough, like a workout at the gym or a visit to the dentist, I think of the Hobbits traveling to Mordor. It helps me get through it. When I can't fall asleep at night, I envision my own episode of Supernatural with myself inserted as a character. My own fan fiction, I suppose (although fan fiction is creepy to me). Needless to say, I'm not a nature girl. Camping would be torture for me. I like watching these goof-ass reality shows where people must make it on their own in some remote location. There is a monetary reward if they make it. There is no amount of money that would make me take that challenge. You could even throw in a night with Tom Hardy. Give me a room with air conditioning, books, TV and a smart phone. Thoreau would shake his head at me. But, I'm much better off than this guy on tv who realized he drank unpurified water. 

Comcast, let's make up

  We've been without cable for three days now. I know, first world problems. The Internet is also out. My child and I are total media whores, so this has been an unforgiving experience. Our box is defective, meaning we lost all 500 episodes of Ninjago he had saved. I sleep with the tv on. It's very comforting. I grew up in a very small, one level house with my grandparents. After I went to bed, I'd sneak back out and sit under the kitchen table, secretly watching tv. When I finally got tired, I loved hearing it in the other room. It was comfort. My grandparents were there and I felt safe. Sleeping to it in my adult life is my equivalent of a blanket or sucking my thumb. Being without it has jostled my world. Sleep is sporadic and difficult. The Russian joked that I could enjoy the silence. He hates the TV at night.  When he stays over, I wake up to both the TV and the air conditioner being turned off. It's endearing for five seconds and then I want to harm him. Give me noise and cold. This is the same man that has a plank of wood under his own mattress so he doesn't sleep too comfortably. This is what happens when you pare a lazy American with a serious Russian. 

  Right now, I'm missing True Detective 2. My soul aches. The only noise in the apartment is my child rifling through his Lego bins. He's handling it well. Except, when I go to read (the only entertainment I have) he incessantly interrupts me. Boys hate being ignored at any age. 

  The cat is cool with it. He's getting a lot more attention. Plus, his shows aren't on until the fall season. 

  Hopefully, the Comcast guy will fix it tomorrow. If not, there may be tears. My tears. I'm sure a grown repairman does not want to see that. 

Somber thinking

  I'm having one of those nights where my solitude is my enemy. Rather than be productive, I'm sitting here thinking about so many things. My forethought is whether or not people are good for each other. How do we know? What if you weren't good for someone? How do you know? I wondered this about Bob. Was it good for him to have me in his life? What if my being in it, shortened his? I think its stemming from a lot of anger I have felt this past couple of weeks. He wasn't there for his sister's wedding or his son's birthday. I get so angry at life, at the universe. When I'm at these celebrations, I feel so guilty. He should be there. I feel angry that he's not. I get so mad that Viggo doesn't have him. He has me. It's so unfair. It's like a universe without the sun or moon.
  I feel like such a failure to him. We were married and supposed to have this unbreakable pact. I feel like I didn't give enough to him or try hard enough. I crawled into a shell when things went sour rather than fight. I didn't try hard enough. Why? We had a child together. A life. Why didn't I fight for us? We were together for so long. We never fought. It was so symbiotic. When life set in and boredom or whatever arose, why didn't we both kick it in the ass? I should've made him happier. That is truly my biggest regret in life.
  Regardless of any of that, we created an amazing boy. Just amazing. A little ball of genius, a weird sense of humor, a new little sun in the universe. Whether or not we made a good or bad impact in each other's lives, we made him. Everyday, he makes me laugh. There's elements of both of us in him, but, at the same time, he's a distinct individual. I wish Bob could see him now. His brain never stops. It's all my weirdness and all Bob's intelligence wrapped up in this tiny, little body.
  I often wonder how my relationship with Bob would've been. Would we have just remained friends? Would we have gotten to a point where we realized we were being ridiculous and find ourselves back together? It doesn't matter. In the end, I always just wanted him to be happy. If that were with me or anyone else. Thankfully, he knew that. I told him quite a few times. I'm glad we stayed friends after the split. All crosses were buried and hurts put in the past. The boy was our number one focus. So, I should just continue that strategy, I suppose. I can't lament what occurred. It doesn't help anything. I always worry about messing up other people's lives, though. How do you make sure you're a benign influence and not some malevolent presence in someone's heart and soul?

Misconceptions

  A text came to me from a strange number asking if I know "where to get green?" I finally got enough info to find that it was a very strange guy that I had a date with a few years ago. I will usually stay friendly with some of these dates simply because we make better friends than mates. He was one, but ended up being a little too spacey for me. Obviously, anyone who knows me well knows that "green" to me only signifies money, of which I never have much of. I'm one of the squarest people out there. It brought to mind some of the misconceptions about myself that I've encountered.

  When I first started dating Bob, he thought I was "rich and liked Whitney Houston". In reality, I was poor and liked Nirvana and Jeff Buckley. Truly mind boggling. I've no idea what gave him that impression. My co-workers, at the time, said I stuck my boobs out when he came into work. However, I just have good posture. I think they only noticed how I acted when I saw him.
  Speaking of boobs, my sister in law mentioned that her husband thought my boobs were fake. I laughed and told him I would've gone bigger if they were. I'm in possession of a great bra. When I lay down, they roll into my sides like pancakes. That's the true sign of real boobs. Fake ones stand at attention. Sometimes I lift them up to where they used to hang. My breasts are the one thing on my body that I don't hate.
  There is the ever present misconception that I'm stupid because I'm blonde. At work, it's most prevalent. That could also be because I'm a woman. I experience blatant sexism from customers. No one ever assumes that I could be a manager. One guy stood at the customer service counter, yet said he didn't need my help. My male co-worker was busy and paged for help. Once again, I asked this guy if he needed help.
  "I'm looking for a manager." he said, impatiently. That's when I get to flash my devilish grin and say "I'm a manager."  His face fell. He was inquiring about a job. I'm sure he felt like an ass. Yes, women can be managers, even blonde ones. Welcome to this century.