Close Encounters of the Male Kind: Excerpt from Chapter 2

Close Encounters of the Male Kind

Excerpt from Chapter Two

“The Crush”

          How I wish I could forget my early days of high school. How I wish I could forget the one person that could pierce my heart with just a single glance in my direction. One glance would hold me over for weeks, and to this day, I remember exactly what I was wearing the one time he told me I looked nice. I sincerely hope I am not the only delusional soul that has had an experience like this in their younger years, especially since I’m putting it out here for the world to see. In the event that I am the only delusional soul with this ‘issue’ – well, the one psychiatrist that is reading…this is where you can step in.
          I had a brief encounter with this man in my early teen years. He was popular. I was not. He was adorable. I was not. He was cruel at times, and I was not. His shoes were always so white, piercing eyes, broad shoulders, a button nose if I ever really saw one, and the most incredible bubble butt I have ever seen on a man’s figure. I really don’t know what magnetic force field propelled me to this man, time and time again…but it did. I have witnessed him being cruel, unkind, selfish, inconsiderate, and masterfully manipulative; yet I still pined for him. Why is this? I made it to second base with this guy and we never talked after that. I got grounded for nearly three weeks for that little escapade (the punishment was worth every minute).
          Low and behold, out of the blue, over twelve years later…he contacts me…on Myspace; Myspace. To those of us who first design a page, a delight. To those of us who move on to a more productive means of networking, perhaps face to face communications…just a small stepping stone. To those of us where Myspace serves as a link between you and your biggest crush ever…the best advancement in internet technology since dial up jumped to broadband.
          First, it started as catching up. Then, we moved onto instant messaging. Then the texting began. Next thing you know, I’m hanging out with him at the local watering hole. He dragged me out to the parking lot to listen to his latest and greatest mix. I remember being really impressed by his liking for Stevie Wonder.  We Have So Much in Common!  Blinded by the crush-o-meter with this man, I neglected to consider the number of Stevie Wonder fans in the world. I neglected to consider the fact that the man was a twenty five Grammy award winner or that he had produced nearly two hundred number one hits. Who the f* doesn’t like Stevie Wonder? He handed me a best of best mix, that I still listen to today. I neglected to consider the other twelve girls posting, “Thanks so much for your mix, I love it and listen to it every day!” (Probably while they’re pooping!)
          The last encounter I had with him, I vowed to never involve myself with him again. There were so many brief moments where this inner person would peep out and say or do something so genuine, so sweet and thoughtful. So out of character, and I think it was this that kept me going back. I think it was the commonality we shared at that point in our lives. I think this commonality we shared provided us both brief glimpses of comfort. I’ve always known deep down that if I had ever had the opportunity to be with this person, that I most likely wouldn’t be interested. I’m not walking blind. I know exactly what sits in front of me. How you say? Wash, rinse, and repeat. What sits in front of me is not going to measure up to my ‘crush’ – and no one will because seventy five percent of this ‘idea’ was a complete fabrication stemming from hot horny teenage dreams - not even close to the harsh reality I had received over, and over, and over again while pining for this guy. I’m not even his type (thankfully so), and as painful as it is for me to say this aloud, I really don’t think that he’s mine.
          This is what I mean about realization. I have a hard time not being over-skeptical – but people…you have to be a little skeptical. Look at the reality of the situation. The reality of my situation with this guy is that we were both lonely. It is that simple. Now you go and be simple. Don’t let illusions or false expectations support a disappointment. It took me a long time to realize this…but I’m happy with the outcome. After all is said and done…he will always be a friend (even if the guy has made me feel like crap, several times warmed over).
          I digress...it was me making myself feel like crap several times warmed over. I did this by not feeling confident and by letting stupid trivial things overwhelm my judgment. I am smart. I am beautiful. I am talented. I am funny, successful, ambitious, caring, devoted, and a wonderful mother. If you’ve been in the field for as long as I have, you will come to find that there aren’t many people that can measure up to all of that. So, back to approaching this from a different angle; no longer will I be, “Bitter, party of one!”  Que Sera, Sera...whatever will be will be.  I do know one thing for certain...if someone isn't treating you with equal respect, they aren't worth your time.  There are plenty more fish in the sea, and it is so sad...so very, very, sad...that most of them are liable to be chapters in this book.

What's Your Nationality?

Errr...I said something stupid.

I recently asked someone what their nationality was and made some comments as to support personality characteristics being a result of it.  Shortly thereafter I realized what a moronic assumption this was.  I'm Sicilian, mixed with a bit of German, and a dash of French.  Throughout my life, I've heard, "Sicilian and German?  Geez, you must be a brute little force...", or, "Temper, temper, temper...no wonder where she gets it from...".  After giving it some thought, I vow to never to make an unfledged statement like this again, and here is why:


I'm not going to deny the fact that I have a bit of a temper, or that I happen to be a brute little force to reckon with if someone crosses me.  However, I think very little of this has to do with my nationality.  Furthermore, characteristics of a society couldn't possibly affect me to this magnitude given the fact that I was neither born in Sicily, nor have I ever visited Europe in my life (not saying I wouldn't like to).  One might say that the cultures and traits associated with my nationality have moved through generations, whereby affecting the result of my personality.  However, I had zero influence from he who had passed on the German/French blood.  And the environment I was exposed to growing up included the likes of Scotland too.


Now, throw in the characteristics found in America as a people; and those are a lot of variables to support a pre-conceived theory as to what makes me, me.  In the end, personal experience holds more weight as it pertains to characteristics of a person.  So, I'm just throwing this out there...don't be one of those morons (like me the other day) who makes a statement to suggest that anyone's nationality holds weight as to, for example, how arrogant or chauvanist they may be.  It is more likely that experience has made them this way...or they might just be an asshole because they like to be.  Who knows?

Embrace the individuality.

Flag of Nina



The End.

We Have So Much in Common!

My friends...I use this phrase in a joking manner almost always - and I just want to take a few moments to give you some background.

When e.d. and I had met for the first time, we were laughing about how lame dating has become.  How so many people assume they have so much in common...and then find out a month later that they were completely wrong for eachother...initiating somewhat of a shocked response.

B:  "I love to snorkel!"
G:  "Oh my Gosh!  Me too!"
B:  "Have you ever gone snorkeling in the Caribbean?"
G:  "Once while I was on my honeymoon (lol)"
B:  "Oh thats cool...I've gone snorkeling at Metro...you know...I go and look for lose change"

Seriously?  People.  How often do you snorkel?  How often does anyone snorkel?  Even if you are blessed with oceanside property...how often do you snorkel?

This is where commonality meets enjoyable activities...they are NOT one in the same.

If you are looking to meet someone for the long haul...wake up and pay attention!

If you spend 50% of your time working, 10% of your time maintaining the homestead, 20% of your time tending to your children, 20% of your time sleeping...try to look for someone that can handle spending at least 50% of their time at home.

You need to find someone that can take the day to day blows with you...and get back up with only minor scrapes.  You need to find someone that enjoys doing yardwork, if that is how you spend 80% of your days in the summertime.  Lastly, you need to find someone that you can live with, period.  Someone that will make you laugh when you finally say, you know what, its Saturday, but I really need to clean the damn bathroom.  I don't want to, I'm not going to enjoy it...so please just stand there and amuse me while I get this done.

Now, I know what you're thinking, "Nina...when was the last time you sustained a relationship?"  I know, I know...I guess I'm just waiting to meet the one guy that gets just as turned on as I do about coupon clipping and rock shows on PBS.

P.S.  I always have the best intentions when it comes to coupon use...but I have probably used maybe five coupons in my entire life (4 at DSW).  I just really enjoy cutting them...and laughing about the marketing genius behind placing the coupon for smuckers page left from the coupon for tampax.  I know...gross, right?

New Original - Check It!

I wrote this song just before I left for CISSP camp.  I was sad to put my guitar down before I left, and through the 86 hours of study and class time I participated in that week, prior to the six hour exam, I was anxious to get back home and finish this tune...

This tune was inspired by the inability to completely dissolve your past, and look forward to new beginnings.  Its about putting that toe in, but never really being able to soak your whole foot for fear of getting burned.  Its about enjoying freedom, and not really 'needing' a relationship; yet all the while realizing how much one could support a longterm happiness.  Its about not settling, and sometimes breaking your heart, or others, through searching for the one who is worth the risk.

I've developed a new callous on my left index finger as a result of the pesky bar chord.  A callous to a beginner guitar player is like a....oh nevermind.

So, without further ado, I present to you, live via my crappy little casio digital camera, "How Many (Does it Take?)" - until I come up with a not so lame title, heh.

Tell me what you think?

"How Many (Does it Take?)" - Nina Marie, 2010
*Please note, guitar playing is not really my forte' - I do my best, as it provides me assistance in writing music; this would probably sound a lot better if someone else had played it, lol

Twas My Night Before Christmas Eve

After three hours of sleep and countless hours of tossing and turning all week, I woke up surprisingly chipper.  I stopped to grab a coffee, paying special attention to wish the gas station attendant a very Merry Christmas.  Alanis Morrisette's "All I Really Want" was playing on the radio, and I began to reminisce of my days of youth.  I must have listened to her jagged little pill through my entire sophomore year of high school.  I thought to myself, "what the hell does she have to be so bitter about anyway?"  This shocked me...as I tend to lean more towards the bitter side of reality most days.  It had occurred to me, that I have absolutely no reason to feel bitter these days.  That we as humans are born unto a selfish race; most days a challenge to not find something attractive or desireable knowing it is completely out of reach.

Are there things that I want?  Indeed there are a plenty.  I look around and see all that I have and find no excuse to not be satisfied with it.  There is nothing that I need today.  I am thirty.  I have a house, a car, a great job, a loving and supportive family, a beautiful healthy child, and friends that would walk over coals to come to my rescue if need be.  All things I have acquired through my life, through good times and bad, in sickness and in health, through better or for poor.  At any given time, I could lose any one of these things; I am thankful for today.
 
Tomorrow, I will watch my son eagerly tear open every present under the tree.  This evening, he said to me, "Mama, aren't you so excited that Santa is coming and he is going to bring us all both presents?"  I said, "Well, Santa brings presents to boys and girls, he doesn't bring them to old people.  My present is to see how happy you are when you open them."  I could see his mind racing, contemplating what I had said, and wondering how that could compare.  He said, "Well, you can help me open mine." 

All day, I haven't quite been able to pinpoint where this sudden jolt of happiness had come from.  At this moment, it finally dawned on me.  I briefly recalled Christmas mornings as a child, running into my parents' bedroom to wake them.  I never once thought of going to the tree and looking at the gifts first.  Instinctly, I ran straight to where my Mom was, and woke her...so that she could be there with me.  All the commotion, all the holly-balooz and bustling of that season; and like auto-pilot, there I was...with my parents...and my sister...every Christmas morning. 

I am more excited on this day than I ever was as a child.  I am so happy and fortunate to be in a position to be able to provide for my son, all year round...and especially...provide him all of these extra things on Christmas.  People always say, "Christmas is for the kids" and today I beg to differ.  I feel like it is Christmas morning all over again, only this time, it is magnifide by all of the people, things, and accomplishments that I've made in my life over the last twenty something years.  My biggest accomplishment being my son.

Jack, Christmas morning, 2008

You People are all So Selfless:

My friend Melanie set aside a special gift for me and asked me to open it tomorrow morning with Jack, so that I would have something to open.

My Mom had me over earlier this evening, and let Jack and I taste test the brissoulini and lasagna for tomorrow's feast - ahead of everyone else - so I wouldn't have to cook dinner tonight.

My Sister ran around like a chicken with her head cut off to find the last gift on my list for Jack - without the time to do it myself, and helped me with a few other things like wrapping, because that's "F-ing Teamwork!"

My friend Greg ignored my "I only need to get a few things" and accompanied me on a two hour grocery shopping trip, in a blizzard - dropping me off at the door, carrying the bags in, and scraping the car several times in the process.

My friend Brian had a package waiting for me on my porch with the most beautiful pictures I have ever seen, and some media of which I cannot wait to find the time to give my undivided attention.

S G...thanks for eluding that you care, because I know how hard that is sometimes :)

To all of you people in my life:  Thank you for thinking of me and helping me through some of the best and worst times of my life.  It ain't easy doing it alone...and today, I've realized that I'm not...and I haven't been.  I am so lucky - no gift could compare.  My son is fortunate to be surrounded by family and friends who will help teach him the same...that no gift compares to a simple happiness.

Merry Christmas to All and to All a Good Night!

Excerpt from Chapter 3: "Close Encounters of the Male Kind"

"Close Encounters of the Male Kind"
Excerpt from Chapter 3:

 “The Romper”

          I liked his tattoos. He wore glasses, heavy black safety shoes, and an all occasion baseball cap. He always smelled nice. He was at work. The office was desolate one Friday afternoon, I was there by myself playing catch up on a project that left more to be completed. He rushed in with a last minute request, and by chance, I was the only fool that could help him. I obliged. He came to thank me on three separate occasions the following week. “Again, thank you so much Nina, you really saved my ass,” he said. As he turned to walk out, he faced me again and said, “I should probably take you to lunch at our five star cafeteria or something.” I smiled and replied, “I’ll take my chances and wait for a formal invitation somewhere outside of this dump.” He called my desk phone when he returned to his office and asked me if I wanted to go out. Of course, I said, “Sure.”
          Later that week, we met up at Fishbones. Fishbones was a classy watering hole right near the water. We sat in our nervousness and talked for nearly three hours. He occasionally glanced up at the Redwings game playing on the raised monitor. He even admitted he had tickets for the game that night, but said that he planned to meet up with his friends later in the evening. We talked about our backgrounds, childhoods, interests, work, and lightly touched on our traumatic past relationships. I am a slow drinker, so I finished the night off with two beers, he had four. We walked out together and he kissed me. It wasn’t a bad kiss; though I didn’t feel many sparks as I had anticipated. He called the next day and asked me out to dinner for the following week.
          It was a nice evening for dinner outside. He took me to this place right off Jefferson. The boats were lingering around the patio, and the sun was just beginning to set. The dinner was great, and the conversation was lasting. Afterwards, he asked me if I’d like to take a walk down by the beach. Sounded great to me, but I glanced down to my four inch wedge platform sandals and wished I had been just a little more conservative when it came to selecting my shoes for the evening. I asked him if we could swing back to my place so that I could change into a more reasonable pair. Later that week he asked me if I would be interested in visiting his place for dinner. I accepted.
          That day, I had a pretty busy day at work. I came home and changed into something a little more comfortable and head out to his place. He had already started drinking, and I could smell a hint of barbeque as he closed the patio door behind him. He said, “I just started the grill, so dinner should be ready in about an hour, can I grab you something to drink?” I said, “sure, I’ll take what you’re drinking.” We sat around and talked while he was preparing to put the food on the grill. We were going to feast on steak, scallops, and shrimp. Who needs veggies and carbs anyways, right?
          My stomach began to grumble and I had realized that two hours had passed and we still hadn’t eaten. No big deal. It was 9:30pm, and I realized this guy must have polished off at least ten beers. As he closed the patio door behind him, with the full tray of cooked food in hand, he said, “I’m not really hungry right now.” Oh great. I’m starving, this guy is near drunk. I can’t just go ahead and help myself. Who wants to eat alone on a date? I politely said, “nah, I’m alright.” I nervously plopped myself on the couch and began to watch the Red Wings game. He sat down next to me, turned his head, and said, (brace yourself for this), “you wanna make out?” On the inside, I started laughing hysterically. On the outside, I said, “sure, why not?” Maybe if I could occupy my mind with something other than the smell of the steamy hot goodness that sat on the dining room table, my hunger could pass.
          So, there we were…fifteen minutes and taking a breather. I exclaimed, “hey, I’m not really into going that far with you, I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea…maybe I should leave.” He expressed that he wanted to stay, that we should just lay there and talk. Fifteen minutes later, there we were, taking a breather. I exclaimed, “hey, maybe I should leave.” He expressed that he wanted me to stay, that we should just lay there and talk. Fifteen minutes later, I am the catalyst of every poor man’s excuse for not getting to the next level. You guessed it. Rhymes with ‘Lou Rawls’. Need I say more?
          I’m lying there on my stomach, contemplating how much longer I am going to subject myself to his whining. I find myself fantasizing about the grilled goodness sitting out on the table. He leans in close and whispers in my ear, “Can I use your ass?” Before I can say “For What?!” Two hundred and sixty pounds of sheer horn-ness is climbing up on my fully clothed butt; straddling it as if I am a prized 4-H. At this exact moment, I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. I was laughing for sure. How could that even feel good??  Jeans on jeans??  Waiter!  Side order of chaif cream please!  The side of my face was smooshed into the pillow and one lowly tear streaked my face and rolled under the side of my nose. If only he could just hand me a shrimp? A scallop? Anything?! This moment, in hindsight, brought total new meaning to the phrase Eat. Pray. Love; as I was only satisfying one of these three desires.
          “Please get off me (minus a few inappropriate f-bombs).” A deep sigh of frustration and he was off. Thank god. He went to use the bathroom. And that was a wrap! As soon as the bathroom door shut I shot up, grabbed my things, and fled for freedom. I rocked back from grabbing the knob, grabbed one shrimp off the tray and sped to my car.  This was by far, one of the worst dates I have ever been on; however, I’m still laughing...and to me...that is worth far more than a bad ass-romping. 

Two valuable lessons learned from this one: 

1)  Don't date anyone from work.  Period. 
2)  Don't come hungry.