Walking With Nora

Not that I really need to explain myself since this is my blog, but just so everyone is clear, I love the rain so my new blog title is not meant to be negative. Over Memorial Day weekend my friend Mel (who’s getting married in three months!) and I were joking about all my dating stories, she knows that as much as I complain about dating I get a kick out of it, and that all my experiences are like me walking through the rain. Hence the blog title. Eventually you come to a clearing where there are no clouds, or maybe you find an intense storm that could be considered a great relationship. Who knows. At any rate, just wanted everyone to know that.

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So the Irishman… he sent me the sweetest text message ever. (I’m finding I don’t have such disdain for texts when they come from someone you might actually like.) Background: he wanted to hang out yesterday but I had made plans with Darling and the Boss all day and evening so we would just have to stick with our Tuesday night date.

The text, coming just after midnight: “So it’s Monday. I still miss your face.”

I don’t know why but that short message has had me smiling non-stop since.

I saw my friend today who set us up (she happens to be my chiropractor) and she was jumping up and down and in near tears that we are going on our fourth date tomorrow night.

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It’s officially day number one of my Staycation. I managed to drop some dough at the mall in a short amount of time, treated myself to a healthy turkey sandwich from Bread Co, and now am waiting for Darling as I suspect she wants to run a “girls only,” errand before I had back to MWood for some apartment cleaning, tanning and Boot Camp.  I am loving having no agenda, no responsiblities, no answering phones and dealing with clients. If only every day could be the first day of a vacation.

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I was watching Ellen today while finishing up Mr. D’Arcy Takes a Wife (it’s only taken me a year; I’ve read many other books while I’ve had that one started) and Terrence Howard was on the show. I really enjoy him. I like his voice, the way he talks, how he dresses. He’s a bad-boy sexy. Ellen asked if he was dating anyone and he said no because “Forever is a long time to wear the wrong ring.” I don’t think I’ve heard it like that before. That will be my new retort if someone asks me why I’m single.

Consider this my review of one of the newer so-called hot spots in the StL.

First of all, it’s not such a hotspot. You have to park in the casino parking garage and walk, without the guidance of signs, for quite sometime, on awkward cobblestone, before reaching the nightclub which is announced inside the casino without much fanfare.

There’s a large poster-sized sign that indicates “Dress code is STRICTLY enforced.” Really? Are you sure? Cause last time I checked Las Vegas bouncers didn’t let girls in cut-off jean skirts into their $23 million clubs. Or guys wearing Converse shoes.

The bouncer insisted on giving us his spiel about how much money the casino cost, how it’s owned by people in Vegas (may be true), there are over 1200 people on the guest list so we shouldn’t feel special and that are we 100% sure we don’t want bottle service? There was a three-step process to get into the bar. One guy checks IDs. Bouncer #2 lectures you on the classiness of the joint. Bouncer #3 checks your ID again. Kind of unnecessary if you ask me. And anti-climatic.

The dance floor? Small.

The DJs? Bad. Only in StL would they play Journey, the Jackson Five, and Vanilla Ice at a “hot spot.” I am not trying to be snobby but if you want to have a classy reputation, act like it. Play the right music. Stop blowing steam onto the dance floor when girls walk out and for goodness sakes stop with the strobe lights. I’ve been to Vegas. They don’t do that.

The clientele? An interesting mix of couples, bachelorette parties, birthday parties, more couples, girls in really tacky dresses, girls in great dresses, men in suits, men in jeans and the ubiquitous single guy who is there alone and leeches himself onto your group.

The drinks? Expensive. $5 beer. I’m not complaining much since we got in free (a $10 for women and $20 for men, in case you wanted to know). Funny how the bartender that I got stuck with is the guy who broke up with me years ago by changing his myspace status from “in a relationship,” to “single.” I didn’t much care that he was there, but you know that game, six degrees of separation? Well in StL it’s more like two. And you can’t go anywhere without seeing an ex. Or a friend from high school. Or college. Or that guy you randomly made out with. Let’s just say I’m glad I was tan and looking good last night, just because, you know?

The bathrooms? I know it’s an odd thing to blog about but rumor has it they spent over $1 million on each bathroom. They are fancy but nothing to really write home about. No seats, no lady to hand you a towel, offer you perfume or etc.

The general consensus of the night was: good for dancing to burn off the drink calories, bad for boy scouting, great for funny pictures, and we would all go back if we get in for free again AND no one has to drive. (I was the DD, which I’m fine with but yesterday was a reeallyy long day and I could have used a night to let my hair down.)

So all you out-of-towners, if you are coming to StL, don’t bother with HOME. There are many other places that are breathtaking and noteworthy. HOME isn’t one of them.

• Taking advantage of my free tans from the Tan Co, chillaxin’ in the bed, which honestly is a great way to end a very long work week
• Catching up with KH about my Thursday evening and making plans for the weekend. Pending the clouds in the sky we’ll be poolside in a few hours
• A sprint workout. ManMate has given me a list of workouts to do throughout the week in addition to our boot camp. Last night was a 2.5 mile sprint workout. Jog one lap, run half a lap, sprint half a lap, repeat. I peppered in some push-ups and tricep dips as well. It was a rough workout
• “Wanted,” with the Irishman. Don’t waste your time with the new Angelina Jolie/James McAvoy movie. Besides the great visual effects the plot is kind of bizarre. Highlight of the movie: Morgan Freeman calling James McAvoy a “mother f—–r.”
• More of that intelligent conversation and … (no, not that) with the Irishman. I’ve decided he’s pretty adorable and sexy in his own way.

In approximately 36 minutes my vacation begins. I’m not going anywhere this time and instead will focus on the following list:

• Take my car to a do-it-yourself car wash and get it spick and span clean. It needs it. I love Jack to death but his black hair does a number on a car with interior, even if you put a sheet in the backseat
• Tanning. Yes, that’s right. I’ll be poolside as much as possible during non-rainy days.
• FINALLY finishing Mr. Darcy Takes a Wife. I will then take myself to the library, ante up the cash for my library fine and borrow two more books with the hopes of reading at least one during my week off.
• Exercise. I know it’s a vacation, but I can’t live without it anymore.
• Jack. Taking him for long walks to tucker him out.
• Making Photo CDs for a few friends that are long overdue
• A massage. Not sure when or where, but I’m getting one
• Packing for Houston. Have to ensure there are a few killer outfits in case I run into Seattle while I’m there.

I feel like a little kid on the last day of school, buzzing with anticipation, bursting with joy and jiggling my legs like crazy to ensure I don’t run out of the office.

Date #2 was last night.

He. COOKED. For. ME. At his condo, which, in case you wanted to know, is decorated and clean and doesn’t smell like a dirty boy. Rather refreshing.

I think one of the best things about the Irishman so far is ability to hold a conversation. We don’t talk sports, weather, drunken college stories, horrible relationship stories. We talk about time travel (I just finished the Time Traveler’s Wife and had many questions about it), music, writing (he has a journal!), art, inspiration, family, and some silly getting to know you questions. “If you could watch only one movie, everyday, for the rest of your life, what it would be?” (His: Snatch. Mine: The Notebook.) I can’t tell you how long it’s been, apart from a few guys here or there, since I’ve talked to an intelligent man.

We had mongolian beef and rice for dinner all supplied, prepared and served by him. I supplied wine and brownies.

I feel at ease with him for the most part which is new to me; a little self-conscious when I catch him staring at me; no, not the creepy kind of staring, but the kind of staring where they smile at you. The only two strikes so far: he doesn’t like Dave Matthews Band and he smokes when he drinks; we downloaded and listened to the Some Devil CD last night and he confessed he didn’t hate it, which is a start.

He offered to give me a foot rub but I declined as I don’t do feet. I don’t like other people’s feet touching me, I don’t like other people touching mine… it’s weird, I know, but it’s true. I offered him my hands instead and thanks to his sister being a masseuse and training him, I received two fantastic hand massages.

Massage + one glass of wine + comfy leather couch = 100% relaxed Nora.

For those of you who are wondering, yes, there was a first kiss last night. Think of the movie Spiderman (the upside down kiss) and that’s what it was like. Only not quite as hot. It’s a pretty awkward position to be in, let me tell you. His kissing style is a bit different so we’ll blame it on the wine or the fact that it was the first one… but it got much better.

There’s a third date in the works, likely sooner than later as he’s out of town next week and I’m in Houston the following week.

Stay tuned…

So I’ll admit I’m feeling a bit lonely this week… yes, I have dates, yes I have great friends and family but that doesn’t stop the lonely train from rolling through Noraville on occasion.

The Former HB contacted me earlier this week. Wants to be friends, needs some assistance as he’s moving to my area. I wasn’t nice to him but I wasn’t as mean as I should have been. He succeeded at his job: he got inside my head and aggravated me.

A friend of mine informed me last night that he no longer thinks it’s a good idea if we communicate. Some of his points were valid, others were, well, not. It hurts when someone wants to give up on a friendship, doesn’t give you a chance to respond and just fades to black.

Many of my married friends have one year anniversaries coming up, others are getting married in the next few months, which means I’ll be dealing with the infamous “plus one,” situation.

It doesn’t help things that people have been offering me, unsolicited by the way, dating advice. You know the type, people who have been with the same guy for over four years, most of them having only dated a few people ever.

So, when I feel like this, I turn to certain movies, books, songs.
Movies: The Notebook, You’ve Got Mail, Because I Said So, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Casablanca, Pretty in Pink, the Big Chill, Happy Accidents
Music: Usually anything angry… Nirvana, current alternative music (I have some great mixes and I’m ashamed to say I don’t know the names of the artists), John Mayer, The Beatles & Paul McCartney, Notorious B.I.G., Dave Matthews Band, Mason Jennings
Books: A Girls’ Guide to Hunting and Fishing, Jane Austen (Pride & Prejudice), Jennifer Weiner (Good in Bed, Little Earthquakes), my book of Emily Dickinson poems

Thank goodness for Bootcamp with ManMate… it’s the perfect release to free your mind and just be with your body. Thank goodness for my friends who laugh and cry with me.

What’s your comfort book/music/movie?

LIII, by Emily Dickinson

Let me not mar that perfect dream
By an auroral stain,
But so adjust my daily night
That it will come again

I finally saw the man I has been haunting my dreams for the last few weeks; he was as I expected him to be: taller, older (Darling always said it would be an older man), strong, handsome, dark hair, brooding. We were on a park bench, probably early spring, the sun slanting through the trees which were hovering over us. Jack was there, trying to chase after birds. We sat their holding hands, smiling, relishing.

I took a short nap after work today. The entire dream was like a silent movie; no sound, only our lips moving, saying what I can only assume were words of heartache and doom for the man stood up and walked away, fading into the sunlight.

I don’t know what the man said other than what I can guess: he can’t be in my life and just like that, he was gone. Vanished as though he never existed, even in the catacombs of my mind. I was left holding a piece of paper with all the reasons we couldn’t be together. They stung. As embarassing as it is, I woke up with tears on my cheeks, a sore jaw which can only mean I was grinding my teeth which I know to be signs of distress while I’m sleeping.

I woke up in a very grumpy, stormcloud kind of funk. It may have been only a dream, our minds version of emailing ourselves a possible glimpse of the future, words exchanged in the darkness, odd hours of the night, potentially across time or miles (who knows how dreams really work) but I’m confused, saddened, feeling a bit lost and lonely. It sours my hope.

It’s been so real for the last few weeks that I actually began to believe in my dreams again.

I’ll admit I’ve been slacking at the entertaining blogging lately; I can’t begin to tell you how liberating it is to not have to study or feel guilty for not studying if I’m out having fun.

I have been all over the place in the last few weeks, new pools, new bars, new friends, continually seeing Gym, not seeing near enough of Bed, polishing my house-keeping skills, all resulting in stories. I honestly don’t know where to begin, so we’ll just do mini-stories today.

• Daniel the Actor. KH and I met him two weeks ago when were at Milo’s. Picture John Mayer, only taller and cuter, and you have Daniel. He’s currently in a “relationshit,” (he can’t take credit for the phrase, he borrowed it from Dane Cook) which he was open and willing to discuss. So, while we exchanged phone numbers and he was clearly flirting, the line in the sand was alredy drawn. Said discussion resulted in him asking if we girls are looking to be rescued… no, no, I said. I’m just looking for someone to go through life with me at my pace. His response? “So, you’re looking for someone to run with?” I couldn’t have said it better if I had tried. That may be the best description of what I’m looking for…EVER. He’s the reason that KH, TLo and I ventured to Drunken Fish as he’s a waiter there and asked us to go visit him before he leaves for London to study Shakespeare. We got his autograph, just in case he’s ever famous.
• Circus Flora. I’m pretty sure Darling and Dad are kind of going through a sentimental time lately. Dad often talks about how summers used to be (Pool Pop-Up B, a game my brother made up with him, loosely based on baseball; lots of pool parties and kids running around, so on and so forth). When Darling asked if I wanted to go to the Circus, I said yes. After all, it’s been 10 years since the first time I went and was taken into the center ring… It was glorious to be completely honest. I love live entertainment. I love watching in awe of how people can bend and twist their bodies into shapes, use strength like you wouldn’t believe and more. It was funny, sweet, touching and most of all nice to be with the ‘rents on a Sunday afternoon. My adult moment: when I looked at the grandparents in the audience and decided I would like to have kids, perhaps sooner (like, next five years) rather than later, so my parents can take them and watch the looks of joy on their faces.
• The Irishman. One of my friends set me up with her fiance’s friend (follow that?) and we went out last night. It was a mostly blind date, as we kind of ruined the “surprise,” courtesy of Facebook over the weekend, and it wasn’t nearly as scary as most blind dates are. He’s intelligent, likes to read, is in IT (hahaha), is what he calls a “super dork,” but he doesn’t necessarily come across that way and is unusually funny. Typical Nora: I find it flattering that a friend would think highly enough of me to set me up with a friend and enjoyed most of all the fact that after all the stupid crap I’ve dealt with, it’s possible to go out and have a nice evening with a guy, regardless of the outcome.

I Carry your Heart with me
- E.E. Cummings

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

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This poem popped into my head this morning. Not sure why, maybe in a hopeful way that I’ll be able to read this to a guy one day, maybe just because it’s beautifully written. Regardless, I felt like sharing even though I’m sure many of you are familiar with it.

It’s Monday. I have five long work days until my mandatory vacation. (Perk of working for a small company: we are closed two weeks a year, and we still get two weeks of vacation in addition to that. All paid. Yeah, it’s pretty sweet. Don’t be jealous.)

Today, however, is off to a terrible start. I can’t even focus at the moment so I’m posting pictures of things I’d rather be doing right now. We’ll start with one from Saturday. It’s called Nora & the Drunken Fish Bowl and I promise I shared this with two of my best friends.

 Next up: The walkway to our pool at the resort where I was fortunate to reside last summer in St. Thomas.

Lastly: Sunset Cruise/Booze Cruise in Key West, 2007

So I’m off to handle the chaos, though I’ll be pretending that some handsome man offers to hug me before I board a plane to paradise.