First impressions

  I tend to not make a good first impression. People seem to get some notion of what I'm like in their head that is very inaccurate. Take my ex-husband-When he first met me, he thought I was rich and listened to Whitney Houston. A former date (NBF) said he ran into a girl I met with about getting an apartment. She instantly did not like me for whatever reason. One of my co-workers said "It's because you're pretty" very matter of fact. I might disagree, but the point is moot. I didn't get the apartment. This girl was complaining about her current roommate. So, NBF said he asked if a girl who "looked like Marilyn Monroe" looked at the apartment. His description, not mine. Not that I would ever hate THAT comparison. Anyway, I hope this is the roommate from hell, because she girl snubbed me for no reason. Girls can be so unfair. I was sweet & courteous. The perfect potential roomie. Her loss.

  I don't know why I give off weird impressions. A lot of people say that thought I would be snobby. Maybe it's my good posture. Perhaps I should slump upon greeting others. I'm always curious as to what anyone's first impression of me was. I recently started seeing someone. I had an absolutely adorable roommate at my old apartment. When I would come home from work, she'd be in the kitchen cooking with her boyfriend. Both so cute together. The day before we all moved out, I came home to find a third person in the kitchen- her handsome brother. He was so excited to meet me, "So, this is the mysterious roommate from the mysterious room.", he said. I assured him I was not mysterious. We started talking & literally talked the whole night (he really distracted me from packing). I think we were just so fascinated by each other. It was very platonic. We're the opposite of each other- he's talk, skinny & Russian. But, underneath our exteriors, it's like we had known each other for years. Instant comfort with each other. So much so, that we talked until we fell asleep on my bed. Gradually, our friendship deepened into something more. Thinking of myself as mysterious is hilarious. I think he's learning how silly I am. His first impression was probably way off, too. But, I'm glad the mystery was there to get his attention. One of the best nights of my life. 

  

Gotta love me!

  Recently, I learned that more than a few people back home in West Virginia are mad at me for not contacting them since I've moved. I'm perplexed by the situation mostly because they're all adults who can just as easily contact me and they haven't. I'm pretty sure I'm only responsible for my son, but maybe I'm wrong. It hasn't been a snobby thing. Honestly, I just haven't thought of a lot of things. We're talking about someone who lost most of their underwear in their most recent move. I don't exactly have it together all the time. So, when I found out that there's been some badmouthing and grumbling, it kind of hurt my feelings. I would never snub anyone. Hell, I make friends with sworn enemies and forgive my mother a million times over. Why would I deliberately not contact someone? Oh, that's right, I wouldn't. Maybe I've got a lot on my mind. I'm living on my own, still relatively new at my job, driving back and forth to WV a couple of times a week. Things tend to slip my mind.
  I saw a relative the other day when I went home to visit. You would have thought I'd murdered someone in the family. My reception was a bit icy. I tried to smooth things over with a hug, but was greeted with "Oh, I should be so honored!". It hurt my feelings a lot. I'm just not on a phone or visit basis with my family. And, it has slipped my mind. I haven't thought to contact any of them other than on Facebook. Pretty much that's what Facebook is for me- keeping in touch with people I otherwise wouldn't see. In my defense, no one has reached out to me, either. I'm pretty easy to find. So, any friends or family that are mad at me- I'm not your mom. You have hands and a mouth; you can communicate just as easily as me. It would be great if when you start to say something bad about me, you instead decide to contact me and tell me how much you miss me. I may screw up a lot, but this isn't on me and it isn't intentional. Forgetting my son's backpack for school? Yes. Intentionally not contacting old friends or family? Not in my blood and you all know it. I'm not even a Fleming anymore and they are more gracious towards me. At least once a week, one of my former sisters-in-law or nieces or nephews will say something friendly or loving via Facebook.
  It could also be that WV is pretty boring and I'm providing some gossip/excitement for others. Well, you're welcome. This must be how a Kardashian feels (minus paying for this publicity). Sadly, I'm one of those people that gets bothered if someone is mad or doesn't like me. I want to please everyone. I should have been a diplomat. I'm bothered that there's any kind of anger directed at me without my doing anything to really deserve it. There's a lot of people I haven't talked to in awhile, but most of them are taking it pretty well. I have diehard friends in Columbus that I haven't seen since I've moved. It doesn't mean I don't love you or care anymore. I just live somewhere else and have other things on my mind. Sometimes all relationships are as tricky as dating relationships. Maybe I'm more like the guys who text back a week or a month after you've contacted them. Possibly, the bro house has worn off on me too much. Come to think of it, I have eaten a lot of pizza and have high-fived excessively in the recent past. In the end, I can't fret over it. I have too many other things on my mind- getting to work without my car breaking down, people trying to steal my identity, how I'm going to exist on my meager earnings, how fabulous it is to kiss handsome Russians, and what is going on in Viggo's world. That's more than enough. Unless you're Viggo, you can contact me as easily as I can contact you. Now, stop being mean. Behave yourselves. Remember how wonderful I am. Smile when you think of me or go jump in a lake.

Me, a Belgian and two bros

  I've finally met all of my roommates. One is Belgian. I get along with him the best. Maybe because we bonded over the lack of hot water in the house our first few days. The other roommates weren't here, yet. Or maybe it's because they seem like normal guys. I've heard the word "bro" thrown around a few times. Everyone is nice, so I'm happy. It's an eclectic mix here. So, it's like "New Girl" except substitute two jocks and a foreigner. I can still fulfill the kooky role like Zooey Deschanel. Right now, one roommate has a friend over & they're playing video games. This friend was a total bro. Muscular, shorts, t-shirt, tennis shoes, Axe body spray. At least I feel safe. Bros can fight if needed.
  I always wonder what impression I'm making. I feel for the Belgian. He's known me a week and has seen me drunk and crying (not at the same time). We went out one night for drinks and to get acquainted. I had three drinks, so he got to have me stagger home, my arm wrapped around his. The crying was when he came to my rescue after my car overheated. We rode back to it with emergency water, me crying all the while. Girls cry in a crisis. It's our Achilles's heel. I didn't want to be crying. But, I was on my way to WV for Mother's day and I'd already had my credit card number stolen earlier in the week. Straw that broke the camel's back, so to speak. He was cool and collected the whole time. He just kept saying "We put water in and you go to West Virginia". I lacked his confidence, however, and stayed home on Mother's day. I cried as hard as I did when I first saw Titanic. If you ever want to gauge crying, Titanic usually ranks a ten on a scale of one to ten. Fucking sad. That and Sophie's Choice. That shit is raw. Anyway, I missed my child so bad; I felt like my heart was breaking.
  Oh, yeah, they're bros. I just heard someone get called a "fag". I think I smell meat, too. Bros love meat. Maybe I'm a bro. I should join them.

The new Bridget Jones

I was recently told that I look like Renee Zellweger by a gorgeous, funny guy whose every word I hang on. Sometimes I see the resemblance. Especially when she plays Bridget Jones. It's depressing to read about how she gained all this weight and she ends up being what looks like my real life weight. Thanks, Hollywood. Due to the comparison, I examined her and the movie more. I've come to the conclusion that I'm the American Bridget Jones.
1. The features- We have the same squinty eyes that get pushed up even more by our full cheeks. Blonde hair, pale skin.
2. The underwear- I wear the big underwear just like Bridget. When I was young, I rocked the thongs. Directly after Viggo was born, I was at the store buying Spanx. To compound the big underwear , I wear what looks like even bigger underwear over them. Men are always baffled. They start undressing you & just stop, perplexed by how to get them off. I usually just save the moment by quickly rolling them down & tossing them aside. I might as well throw a bucket of cold water on them. Spanx are not penis risers.
3. We're attracted to the bad ones- she had Hugh Grant; I had a list that I don't want to think about. There's just something thrilling about a jerk. A huge flaw in the female brain. Maybe we like the every second of uncertainty that comes from dating an asshole.
3. We're clumsy- Those silly hijinks you see in the movie can be performed for you in real life by me. Who else falls down the stairs while pregnant because she heard Jeopardy coming on & hurried in her Hello Kitty slippers to catch it? My blunders aren't as adorable as hers. She slides down a fireman's pole, revealing her "arse". I accidentally walk around work, zipper down, sans underwear. Yeah, true story.
4. We both subject our friends to our dating woes. I'm always texting some detail to a girlfriend. I'm like a lame Sex & the City character. My relationships seem to last as long as theirs do on that show. I need a round table discussion like she had going on. A friend that curses a lot like hers would be greatly entertaining.
5. We stare at others while they're sleeping- it's out of love. I stare at Viggo every time he sleeps. I stare at guys because it's the one time you can get a good, honest look at them. Ok, I'm a creep, I accept it.
This list could go on, but I'm sure no one wants that. Let's just say that we're very similar, that character and me. Most of all,
we both have a great desire for true love. That's a wonderful thing.

Am I the Mila Kunis of OKCupid?

  I've noticed on the dating sight, a couple of guys repeatedly visit my profile several times a day. I think, odd, it doesn't change. Why are they..... Wait, are the doing something to my pictures? I mean, it's possible. Guys will jerk off to anything. I bet even Mrs. Butterworth has fueled a few minutes of ecstasy. These boys are young, around 26. They probably have Mrs. Robinson fantasies going on. I take that back-Stifler's mother from American Pie fantasies. No way that generation knows The Graduate.
  It's just odd because I've never inspired that in a man, that I know of. They're normally fantasizing about other women while with me. Or, doing other women. Guys thinking of me while they jerk is hilarious. Those must be some good, deceiving pics because in real life, it's a shit show. Take yesterday, for example. I was counting money at work, picked up a stack of ones and proceeded to drop them, fan style like I was a geisha. Dollar bills went everywhere. While moving the other day, I got my bookcase down my five flights of Downton Abbey servants quarters only to have it crumple like a cracker when putting it into my car. My normal roommate witnessed the whole thing. Even me screaming "really?!" at it. So, yeah, not fantasy material.
  I was once told, as an insult, that I was a "wanna be bombshell". Uh, duh. Who doesn't want to be one? Maybe I go a bit further than most gals. I do own pasties (made by Go-Go Amy).  I like who I am. No, I'm not a "bombshell" as much as I try. I don't have a great body. It's all smoke and mirrors, or I should say, Spanx and a great Victoria's Secret bra. You get to this age and it is what it is. Better get comfortable and accept who you've become. The other day, I read an article with actor Idris Elba. He said sometimes he hates looking in the mirror. If that beautiful man feels that way, then, I'm in great company. We all cringe in the morning at our reflection. But, when someone looks at you and truly tells you that you're beautiful, it's a beautiful thing in itself. Maybe we should all tell ourselves that in the mirror. There, I ended that all heart-warming like a Farrelly brothers movie.

April can suck a dick

  This month has sucked. Not just for me, either. I know quite a few people who've had an awful month. Mine has been more discombobulating than anything else. Some things were annoying- I had to take my computer to Geeksquad three times in one week. Some were stressful, like finding out I had three weeks to find a new home. Others were straight up suck like arguing with my mom and getting a flat tire. There were the Boston bombings on the anniversary of Lincoln's shooting and right around the anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic. Wasn't Columbine this month, too? My troubles are nothing compared to some people's. But, it's all relative. We all have troubles. My ex broke up with his longtime girlfriend. That's worse than a flat tire. Regardless, I still cried about it. The tire, not the break up. Although, I feel really bad for him. It's sad. Despite how they met and how it affected my marriage, I got over it and was very happy for both of them. I thought they would get married. It sucks being single and I don't wish it on him at all. He's a great guy and the best dad out there. It somehow led to a massive argument with my mother. She insisted Viggo is going to be "screwed up" because we split up and now he's seen our subsequent failed relationships. What a dick. That would be like Hitler telling Tom Selleck he has a weird mustache. Coming from one of the worst mother's out there, I should have taken it with a grain of salt. I mean, I turned out ok with her as a mother. She proceeded to tell me it wouldn't matter because "she wouldn't be around when he was older". Which I take to mean her death. When I was little, it was "I'm going to go to California and be a go-go dancer." Now, it's she's not going to be around. I'll tell her what I told her when I was seven- "Well, go ahead and do it." Asshole. What kind of a jerk says these things to her child? Viggo has two parents who love him and put him first. He's smart and well cared for. He's fine. Only when I threatened to leave with him, did she cool her shit. I hope it brought back memories of family taking me from her when she pulled this shit earlier in life. She's always the martyr. No one has it as bad as her. I told her to get her head out of her ass and start thinking about someone else first, instead of herself. I said he needs positive support in his life, not Debbie Downer, go-go dancer.
 

Beginners will mess your shit up

  I watched the movie Beginners the other night and it fucked my shit up. I sat and cried an hour after watching it. It struck so many chords with me that I don't even know where to begin. Ewan McGregor plays a man named Oliver who is recently dealing with the loss of his father. His parents were married until his mother died. His father, played by Christopher Plummer, decides to come out and begin his life again. It runs back in forth through time- the current situation of Oliver taking care of his father's dog, dealing with his death and falling in love again despite his relationships never working out.
  There were so many things that I identified with- starting a dating life after your prime, not ever having relationships work, being in a relationship and not being happy. I think the most heart-breaking scene for me was of Oliver as a child seeing his mother walk around the house depressed. She's in a loveless marriage and an engaging mother that tries to hide it. But, as explained by Melanie Laurent's character, Anna, your face show a normal expression, but others can read your true emotions. It made me think of Viggo. I think of how many times he saw me crying or depressed over the past few years. I always tried to hide it, but it always surfaced. Eventually, he became rather nonchalant about my tears. "Are you crying again, Mom?". It's rough to have your child see you so vulnerable. You're their protector. I cried a lot when I split with his dad and cried even more when I split with Patrick. At times, I considered suicide. Viggo was the only thing that kept me going. To visually see how that looks in a movie killed me.
  I, of course, identified with Oliver's father starting over late in life. Granted, he's much older than me, but I still know what it's like. Dating isn't an easy world to re-enter. He finds love only to find that it's not exclusive. (Very reminiscent of me and NBF and him wanting an "open" relationship).
  Meanwhile, in the present, Oliver falls in love with Anna. She's an actress who never stays in one place due to work. He's a guy who always leaves his relationships. They're trying to make something out of what they have. Oliver's personality reminded me of myself- caring, kind of nerdy, wanting to give his heart but so afraid. The things we've done to ourselves and the things others have done change us and screw us up. If you touch a hot stove, you learn to never do it again. Instinctively, we do the same with relationships. Once bitten, twice shy, right? If you've been emotionally mauled like you're Grizzly Man, then, it's not so easy to let go of shit. You go into these emotionally, self-imposed exiles, keeping your heart safe. Oliver and Anna are used to being alone. There's serious trepidation about being together. It's easier to walk away sometimes.
  I can't express how much I loved this movie. Mike Mills did a stupendous job. You'll laugh and cry and think about a lot of things.