Totally cribbing from the Remix again, stealing her habit of using obscure song lyrics to title blog posts. I'm shameless, what can I say?
It's an interesting counterpoint, this whole friends dumping friends thing. A year ago, I was recently divorced, and the friend in question was one of the people who stood by the whole time. No, he wasn't exactly full of pithy advice, that's not his style. He didn't lend himself to any epiphany type moments, either. But he sat, and he listened until he was sick of hearing about it, and then he listened some more.
So now it's my turn. I know I should be talking to him--once upon a time, when I was younger, my friends looked at me as the one to turn to for advice. (This may have been because even at 17, I was pretty sure I knew everything there was to know about everything, and sold everyone else on it pretty well. I still don't know everything, but sales is sort of what I do best.) Either way, in this case I don't even know that advice is totally necessary. I think it's too far gone at this point, all the strategizing in the world isn't going to get things back to where they were.
Whether or not there's a solution to be found is beside the point. He needs someone to listen, and I'm not doing much of a job. Our relationship is such that I don't know how to start the conversation at all. When it was me having problems, it worked, but only because I talk all the goddamn time, whether someone is listening or not. For him, it's harder--our whole relationship is based on jokes. I play straight man to his ribbing, we have ludicrous arguments about whether you can make a parachute out of a thin sheet of lead (I say yes) or whether it's actually possible to have a 0% chance of rain (I say no.)
We're running out of jokes, though. I can see the strain in his face, and I hear about it thirdhand from the Remix after her nightly talks with the female in question. He's angry, and he's bitter, and I don't know what to do. If anyone else asked me, I'd say he deserves it, based on his actions. Can't say that to him, though. So I'll sit back here, waiting for him to open the door, and hope that he finds a way to bring it up before it's too late.
2.20.2007
Migraine, Breakups, and Italian Sodas...Happy Mardi Gras!
Oh sweet Jesus Asshumping Christ, does my head hurt. I don't often get migraines, but on a scale of one to ten, this one is a motherfucker. I missed work today, which is a rare occurrence, mostly on account of the fact that my walk to the shower made me nauseous enough I had to sit down.
I have nothing productive to say, really. I'm not tired, so I can't possibly sleep anymore today. My head hurts if I watch TV, play video games, or stare at the interwebs too long. Reading isn't going to happen, period. So I'm sitting here doing nothing.
Recent developments in the Breakup (it gets capital letters now) between Boy and Girl, some friends of the Remix and I's, have got me thinking, though. Boy (the one I'm friends with) is clearly in the wrong. I won't say why, because it's not my story to tell, but suffice it to say he's not garnering much in the way of sympathy from me--and that doesn't absolve me from my duties as a friend.
As I told the Remix the other day, the dilemma for me is simple: I know what's wrong, at least superficially. I could give Boy a laundry list of things to say, even things to do, which might convince her to consider taking him back. I can't, though. Girl is my friend too, and I'm not sure that taking him back would be very good for either of them. So when he asks my advice, what do I do? It's like being a public defender--I know he's guilty, but I also feel like he deserves the best defense I can give him. So I've decided to lead the witness. I won't tell him what to do or say, and I'm certainly not going to pat his hand reassuringly and tell him everything is alright. If he starts down the right path, though, I'll prod him in the right direction.
For this to work, for Girl to consider any possibility of getting back together with Boy, Boy needs to undergo some wholesale changes. The old Boy, the one who screwed this up in the first place, isn't getting back together with anyone. If there's a possibilty of a new Boy, he still may not be able to make up for this one--but if there's a new Boy, he'll be better off with the next girl, too. He may be an asshole, and he may deserve every bit of misery he's got right now, but my own personal experience makes me a firm believer in second chances. I don't believe they'll get back together, even if he says all the right things and means them. I think it's too far gone. It'll be easier for me to look him in the eye and respect him, though, if he gives it his best shot. Girl is the best thing that ever happened to Boy--unfortunately for him, he doesn't realize it, and Girl could do a whole lot better for herself anyway. If he can figure out what he did wrong, there's a chance he could turn out alright, whatever happens with Girl. If not, well, I'll just keep preparing myself for this same dog and pony show every four to six years, and hope I don't get tired of him before he stops needing a friend.
Eesh. That's depressing. I'm going to go back to laying on my couch trying to keep my left eye from popping out of my head. Any advice here is welcome, folks, whether it pertains to migraines, disastrous break-ups, or recommendations on a good, cheap place to get Italian soda. (I'm sort of hooked on Target's private lable brands of Italian soda...orange passionfruit mango is the favorite so far, but I'm looking forward to trying the blueberry pomegranate in about three minutes...)
Honestly, is there anything gayer for a straight man to drink than Italian soda? Ok, maybe Jagerbombs or Amaretto Sours, but in the non-alcoholic category, it's gotta be tops.
I have nothing productive to say, really. I'm not tired, so I can't possibly sleep anymore today. My head hurts if I watch TV, play video games, or stare at the interwebs too long. Reading isn't going to happen, period. So I'm sitting here doing nothing.
Recent developments in the Breakup (it gets capital letters now) between Boy and Girl, some friends of the Remix and I's, have got me thinking, though. Boy (the one I'm friends with) is clearly in the wrong. I won't say why, because it's not my story to tell, but suffice it to say he's not garnering much in the way of sympathy from me--and that doesn't absolve me from my duties as a friend.
As I told the Remix the other day, the dilemma for me is simple: I know what's wrong, at least superficially. I could give Boy a laundry list of things to say, even things to do, which might convince her to consider taking him back. I can't, though. Girl is my friend too, and I'm not sure that taking him back would be very good for either of them. So when he asks my advice, what do I do? It's like being a public defender--I know he's guilty, but I also feel like he deserves the best defense I can give him. So I've decided to lead the witness. I won't tell him what to do or say, and I'm certainly not going to pat his hand reassuringly and tell him everything is alright. If he starts down the right path, though, I'll prod him in the right direction.
For this to work, for Girl to consider any possibility of getting back together with Boy, Boy needs to undergo some wholesale changes. The old Boy, the one who screwed this up in the first place, isn't getting back together with anyone. If there's a possibilty of a new Boy, he still may not be able to make up for this one--but if there's a new Boy, he'll be better off with the next girl, too. He may be an asshole, and he may deserve every bit of misery he's got right now, but my own personal experience makes me a firm believer in second chances. I don't believe they'll get back together, even if he says all the right things and means them. I think it's too far gone. It'll be easier for me to look him in the eye and respect him, though, if he gives it his best shot. Girl is the best thing that ever happened to Boy--unfortunately for him, he doesn't realize it, and Girl could do a whole lot better for herself anyway. If he can figure out what he did wrong, there's a chance he could turn out alright, whatever happens with Girl. If not, well, I'll just keep preparing myself for this same dog and pony show every four to six years, and hope I don't get tired of him before he stops needing a friend.
Eesh. That's depressing. I'm going to go back to laying on my couch trying to keep my left eye from popping out of my head. Any advice here is welcome, folks, whether it pertains to migraines, disastrous break-ups, or recommendations on a good, cheap place to get Italian soda. (I'm sort of hooked on Target's private lable brands of Italian soda...orange passionfruit mango is the favorite so far, but I'm looking forward to trying the blueberry pomegranate in about three minutes...)
Honestly, is there anything gayer for a straight man to drink than Italian soda? Ok, maybe Jagerbombs or Amaretto Sours, but in the non-alcoholic category, it's gotta be tops.
2.18.2007
Moving On Up
So I'm sitting here having my first cigarette of the day at 6:30 in the morning on a Sunday, wondering what the hell I'm doing awake in the first place. The Remix went out to play wingman for a single friend last night, and I was going to take the opportunity to go get a little tipsy and sing karaoke with some of my friends, but somehow instead I wound up laying down to take a twenty minute nap at 9pm and didn't wake up until this morning. That's ok, I probably needed it, but now I'm up early with nothing to do, so I feel like I ought to be productive.
I signed my mortgage application this week, and did the home inspection, and everything seems to be going along swimmingly. Since it's yet to debut, why don't y'all take a look:
I signed my mortgage application this week, and did the home inspection, and everything seems to be going along swimmingly. Since it's yet to debut, why don't y'all take a look:
That's the living room, it's a good size, with maybe another 10-12 feet behind the camera in the connected dining room. What really got me on this one, though, was the kitchen:
I've got an island. I'm so excited about this place, I've gone a little goofy. I close in less than a month, move that weekend, and the Remix will move in the weekend after that. I can't wait. We're already mentally redecorating rooms and placing mannequins (you'd have to see her place to understand), and it should be a lot of fun.
I think we're doing this the right way. One, I'm the only one on the mortgage. Neither of us expect anything to go horribly wrong between us, but if it does, there's no complications caused by the living arrangements. Two, I can afford this place all by myself--it'd be a little bit tighter on the budget than it should be now, but totally doable. Instead of taking our combined rents and adding a couple hundred bucks so we could get a palatial condo we can barely afford, we've set it up so that we'll each save some money every month over what we've been paying. Even better, in a year when I get my next raise, we'll have all kinds of extra money to play with, because we're not living paycheck to paycheck now. I feel all grown up, and it's a little scary to see how naturally I'm taking to the responsibility. Who'd have thought?
Now, I'm going to go do some laundry, maybe even run the dishwasher, and then settle in and watch a movie or something off the Tivo before the Remix gets here. She said she wasn't going to be hungover...
2.10.2007
Fallout
This post will not be about the problems some mutual friends of the Remix and I are having. The details are unimportant, the people invoved have never been of interest here before, so it seems unfair to start writing about them now, and the situation isn't nearly sordid or unique enough for y'all to be interested anyway.
No, what's interesting to me here (and notice how smoothly I pick up after disappearing for a month, with no excuse for my absence other than laziness) is the ripple effect this whole thing has had on my relationship with the Remix--which is still going swimmingly, by the way. The problem with the disintegration of our friends' relationship is that it lends itself to talking about problems. The way it'll effect our relationship with those friends individually, who's at fault, what we'll do if they work it out, now that we've effectively chosen sides, the usual things. We end up in heated conversations about why so and so should do such and such, and when we disagree, it seems to become far more important than it really ought to be.
I've discovered, to my great chagrin, that this particular effect is my fault. I'm not good at gray area, you see. I am opinionated, all the time, about everything. My flaw is that even when I agree with you, I still have a way of making people feel like I'm telling them they're wrong. I don't mean to. I get so passionate about what I think, that it sounds like I must think anyone who doesn't agree is an idiot. I don't really know how to fix it, exactly. I like that I'm passionate, and I think most of the people who like me do too. I had to apologize to the Remix today, though, because I made her feel acutely unappreciated just by being me.
We've been talking a lot, lately, about the whole "That's just me being me" idea, mostly because of our friends and their catastrophic relationship. We agree that "DJ being DJ" is an acceptable excuse for baskets of clean laundry laying out on the floor for days at a time, but maybe not so much for making people feel unimportant. So it's no excuse anymore. I'll make an effort to be better, and the Remix will keep reminding me when I'm not.
Except, of course, while blogging. It wouldn't do to have my audience, if there's any left, thinking that I suddenly no longer know everything, would it?
No, what's interesting to me here (and notice how smoothly I pick up after disappearing for a month, with no excuse for my absence other than laziness) is the ripple effect this whole thing has had on my relationship with the Remix--which is still going swimmingly, by the way. The problem with the disintegration of our friends' relationship is that it lends itself to talking about problems. The way it'll effect our relationship with those friends individually, who's at fault, what we'll do if they work it out, now that we've effectively chosen sides, the usual things. We end up in heated conversations about why so and so should do such and such, and when we disagree, it seems to become far more important than it really ought to be.
I've discovered, to my great chagrin, that this particular effect is my fault. I'm not good at gray area, you see. I am opinionated, all the time, about everything. My flaw is that even when I agree with you, I still have a way of making people feel like I'm telling them they're wrong. I don't mean to. I get so passionate about what I think, that it sounds like I must think anyone who doesn't agree is an idiot. I don't really know how to fix it, exactly. I like that I'm passionate, and I think most of the people who like me do too. I had to apologize to the Remix today, though, because I made her feel acutely unappreciated just by being me.
We've been talking a lot, lately, about the whole "That's just me being me" idea, mostly because of our friends and their catastrophic relationship. We agree that "DJ being DJ" is an acceptable excuse for baskets of clean laundry laying out on the floor for days at a time, but maybe not so much for making people feel unimportant. So it's no excuse anymore. I'll make an effort to be better, and the Remix will keep reminding me when I'm not.
Except, of course, while blogging. It wouldn't do to have my audience, if there's any left, thinking that I suddenly no longer know everything, would it?
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