What is he thinking?

Don't we all (women, I mean) think that sometimes? If there's a male in our lives in any capacity, we all seem to gravitate to that question, however briefly, at least once before he makes his way back out of our lives.

So, there's this friend of mine that I met down here. Nice guy, Joe. (I changed his name to protect the innocent, but most of my readers probably know who it really is. Hey, he's only so innocent.) But really, he's always willing to help someone in need, happy to join you at the mall or a movie or the Chinese Buffet around the corner (that really stinks, by the way). He was the single most helpful person during my move from the towers to here. And I appreciate all the help he has given, and would gladly help him if I thought he needed it.

But like all men I've known, he's a complete mystery to me. I knew before we ever went out that he dated around a lot. So I don't have a problem with that (except when he's out on date with someone else when I want to see him...). Yeah, I know. Shut up and let me ponder, OK?

So, knowing that he goes out on all these dates (which I would also do if: I had time; I had money to spare; I had energy), I find myself wondering, "What is he thinking when he goes out on all these dates with all these different women?" What is he thinking? Seriously!

You go out on a date with someone because you're looking for something in them. Something to share, something to talk about, someone to talk to, something in common or something to debate. I know some people go out on a date looking only for sex. That's their choice, and I guess as long as they're careful and they communicate that fact from the start it's all fine and dandy. But if you're clearly looking for something, I have to wonder what it is that you want.

But that's just me I guess. I can keep from picking at a sore better than I can keep from trying to dig into the subconcious meanderings of the human mind (and if you've ever seen me going at a scab, you know what I mean here). I don't know what I'm doing in there, but I find myself digging around looking for gold anyway.

I spent a couple of years in a very close, very intimate relationship with someone who is (thankfully) now back to being a friend--one who also lives very far away now. He never really claimed the relationship. In fact, he acted pretty much the same as Joe, only more openly secretive. (Go ahead, jiggle that around on the end of your spoon for a while before you try to swallow it.) Openly secretive. What that means (for those who couldn't swallow it all at once) is that he would say he was going out with someone else but that he would rather die than say who it was. Even though I knew even before he did. Because I can't keep from picking at that sore. I have to laugh at Joe because we'll be chatting and he'll be telling me something about his day, and he'll suddenly "forget" what he was doing during some long period of time. Does he really think I can't put that together? What is he thinking?

They're all insane. They really are.

Tonight, I took myself out for Chinese Buffet (at a different place that's not as crappy as the one around the corner). As usual, when I was clearly winding down they brought my check with a fortune cookie. I found it amusing and wanted to share it with Joe. So I called him on my way out of the parking lot.

Me: What are you doing?
Joe: Vaccuuming. You?
Me: Oh, I just ate some Chinese and I'm heading home.
Joe: Wow, I'm getting ready to eat Chinese too!
Me: Oh?
Joe: Yeah, a friend is coming over and we're going to eat Chinese, watch a movie and hang out. (Notice two key words/phrases here: "Friend" and "Hang Out")
Me: Well, then that's nice. I was just thinking you'd enjoy my fortune cookie.

And so on... So, again I ask, "What is he thinking?" Does he not realize that my 39-year-old, slightly-more-than-average-intelligence (only slightly, but still more) brain can't connect those to what happens when I come over and do that exact same thing? Come on! Give me some freakin' credit! I don't act like a dumb bimbo; why do people assume I am one?

But all in all, he's a good friend to me when he can be. And I doubt I have enough energy (spiritual, mental, or physical) to give a true relationship the attention and effort it deserves. So, who am I to bitch about it anyway?

I'm the bitch, that's who.

Hey, maybe that's what he's thinking...

I love this place

Sunshine sparkled on the water as I sat on a sailboat in shorts and a t-shirt in the final days of November. I couldn't believe that I was on a sailboat. Then I realized the other half of that statement, and I couldn't believe that I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt outside in the final days of November.

I must have moved to Florida. I love this place.

This was actually my second sailboat experince here. On my birthday, the same people who I was with Saturday happened to be taking the boat out and invited me. Of course I said yes. It sounded like a wonderful way to spend my birthday. Of course, since that happend mid-week, I had to work. So we had an evening sail that day. Wow, was that ever great! The evening started out cloudy, so I was worried that I wouldn't be able to see the full(ish) moon. I needn't have worried. I was in Florida afterall. A short time into the trip the clouds broke and the moon dazzled us with her silver beauty, touching the night-dark clouds with silver hi-lites and giving me even more reason to love it here.

But Saturday was when I got the real treat. All the time I've been here, I've been watching the water, trying to spot dolphins or manatee. I've never seen anything that I could say without a doubt was one or the other. But Saturday, sailing in the afternoon sun through a channel of the Indian River, 3 different groups of 3 dolphins each accompanied us through the wake of other vessels. Ahhhh.

Did I mention that I love this place?

The Next Time...

The next time I have to move:

--I'm taking everything I own to one of those Goodwill places and giving it to the poor. Except maybe my computer. All I need is my computer. And this lunchbox. I'm in the phone book! I'm somebody!

--I'm not forwarding anything, darnit!

--I'm leaving my cats at someone else's house for the first month so I don't step on them when I get off the ladder from failing to hang my curtains.

--Phone service? Who needs it?

--What address on my driver's license? I swear, that's where I live officer!

--Oh, you mean I'm supposed to register my car in THIS state now? Why bother--I'm already on my second address here!

--I'll say my hellos and goodbyes to my new neighbors all in one sentence.

--I'll maybe mark some of the boxes that got "re-organized" from this move. Unless I actually unpack them. Now there's a thought...

I WILL PAY SOMEONE ELSE TO PUT MY HOUSE TOGETHER AND DO ALL THIS PAIN THE BUTT STUFF FOR ME! Jeeze what a nuisance!

A happier version of the move coming up. Once I find it in my computer. That's a story in itself.

Never ever ever try to change a setting in your monitr. For some reason it makes your conputer go insane and you have to restore back to something like the beginning of time. Lost all my bookmarks, my settings are all wonky and everything keeps making me re-register my stuff. Oy. Oh, by the way: If I had your blog address before, I don't anymore (lost all my bookmarks). I know the O'Blog's not sorry to hear that, but for those who are, please email them to me again. Thanks. ;)