Second guessing

The Character said last night that you usually know within the first couple of weeks of a new relationship the cause of an eventual breakup. Well, that was true about JWR. On our second date I had uneasy feelings about his extremely close relationship with his family, and his desire to spend every free weekend with them. Those issues were definitely part of why we didn't work.

I gave The Character a third and four chance. He's smart, he's relatively interesting, and I definitely like his penchants for adventurous travel and spicy food. But, he's just such a character. I can't even quite explain it. But there are so many things that are bugging me, some that seem unfair (like how it bugs me that he drinks Jack-and-diet-coke, and doesn't like to drink red wine or beer), and some that don't seem so unfair. He still hasn't replaced his glasses or his contact lenses. He has multiple weird issues, like really bad allergies, and some sort of acid reflux problem, that left me thinking he was about to hurl at any moment last night. And the way he handled it was...argh, I can't explain it...like a character. And why did he tell me not one but two gross stories about gross bodily functions? And how can he be 5'8" as he claims if I felt like we were the same height with my 1 1/2 inch heels?

I feel like if I keep seeing him, I'm just delaying the inevitable. I know already the reasons why we'd break up. I keep trying to picture him around my friends and family, and it just doesn't fit. Sort of like the Metrosexual, but I'm less attracted to The Character. He's spent a lot of money on me, and I've led him to believe that I like him, too. So, now what? Do I try it one more time, but take him out this time as a sort of payback? I don't really want to see him again, I don't think. Am I being too picky, proving my dad right? I don't think so. This guy is weird. I don't want to go out with him again just to go out with someone. If I'm feeling this way after four dates, I think I've given it enough of a chance. Just because I want to like him doesn't mean that I should keep seeing him.

Now I just have to figure out what to say to him when he calls. Blech.

It's a dangerous world

"The law says we have to announce when a convicted sex-offender has moved into the area," I begin. I'm reading a handout to my sixth grade homeroom class. "This doesn't mean you should be totally scared that somebody's out there ready to hurt you. But it's always important to be aware of the people around you, and this is a good reminder."

In the back of my head, I'm thinking how ironic it is. Earlier today, another teacher informed me that one of our sixth grade boys exposed himself to some students yesterday in the classroom, while she was there. She didn't see it. The fact that he was so brazen about it worried me most. If he's got the balls to do that in the classroom, with a teacher in the room, my god, what might be going on in the stairwells, or during recess, or in the bathrooms? This teacher was most upset that no one told her about it right when it happened. They suffered this harrassment in silence, unable to trust us to protect them.

"If you ever see someone do something inappropriate, whether it's an adult or another student, you have a responsibility to tell someone about it. It's important for your safety, for your friends, and our community," I continue. This boy is in my homeroom class, but he's not here today. Will they get it? Do they know how much this matters? How can I impress upon them their own self-worth? They can't allow someone to just do that to them without making a big stink out of it.

I dismissed them from homeroom and stood in the hallway. A few minutes later, a group of girls came over to me, each one pushing another towards me. "Um, Heather? I think we have to tell you something. Somebody is...doing disgusting things. Should we tell you who it is?" "Yes."

They began to reveal some of the harrassment they have witnessed or suffered. "Is he gonna know we told? We don't want him to know it was us. He'll be really mad." They were terrified that they'd be found out. "We will protect you. Thank you for being so brave to tell me. What he did was not ok, and the only way we can solve it is if you guys tell us what happened."

I'll write about the boy another day. My compassion for him is nearly gone. But these girls, on the cusp of adolescence, have been robbed of a big part of their innocence by this boy. Not a stranger on the street, but a classmate, who not only harrassed them sexually, but threatened them physically. These girls--they are not tiny, frail things--I still want to scoop them up and tell them how precious and sacred their bodies and hearts are, and how powerful their voices can be if they use them.

Goldilocks in Jdate-land

My dad says I'm too picky about boys. But maybe he's right. Lately, I've been on a few Jdates that actually went beyond the first date. Yet somehow, I've found something wrong enough with each of them to warrant terminating the relationship. I feel a little like Goldilocks looking for her perfect bowl of porridge.

First, there was the Canadian. He has good taste in music. He is nice. Really, really nice. Too nice. And incredibly, annoyingly indecisive. It began to grate on my nerves, rendering all other emotions towards him impossible. Dreams of dual-citizenship evaporated.

Next, there was the Metrosexual. He was also nice, and fun, and very chivalrous. We had a good time together. But I found myself wondering whether or not I could date someone who dressed so much better than me. And he has a cat. And he snores. (Don't ask).

And now, there is...hmm, I'm not sure what to call him yet. Intense? Clumsy? Folks, the jury is still deliberating on this one, and it's a close call. He is precariously straddling the fine line between endearing and "ugh". Let's recap. 1st date: Decisively set a time and place. (Big points for that; see "The Indecisive Canadian"). Shared margaritas and a habanero pepper. Boy likes spicy food. BIG points for that. A bit exuberant in his mannerisms, which could either balance quite nicely with my cool, calm and collected demeanor, or just not mesh at all. An odd but not unreasonable problem with his glasses--ran out of contacts, "cool" glasses are broken, so spends the night not wearing his "uncool" glasses. Hmmm. If you're that embarrassed, go out and fix yer damn problem. But I digress. A short walk home, a peck on the cheek, a request for a 2nd date. All good.

And then there was date #2. Again, sets time and place, and even picks me up, African daisy in hand. Sweet, albeit unusual. A bit of a character, this one. I've dated characters before. And it's not always pretty. But the best was yet to come. He tells me that his allergies have been acting up, so he's all looped up on Dayquil. Coincidentally, I had the beginnings of the cold, so I had also taken some Dayquil. I knew how he felt--not wanting to postpone the date, but not wanting to be a sneezy, runny, goopy mess, either. And the glasses problem has still not been solved, a week later. At this point, there are very minor feelings of uneasiness in my head, but no alarm bells are ringing.

It's during dinner that things really take a turn. A bottle of wine? Um, sure (thinking to myself, if I drink half a bottle of wine, I'll surely embarrass myself). Boy talks with his hands. Exuberantly, remember? One glass of water goes down. Then a glass of wine hits the deck. I'm still trying to think endearing thoughts when he gets up to use the bathroom and nearly takes the whole damn table with him. I sheepishly look around, thinking I can easily get out of this one, as it's only a second date. But of course in my mind I'm always thinking to the future. Is THIS what's in my future? Years of "I know, folks, he's a complete mess, but he's my mess." UGH.

My favorite part was when I returned from the ladies' room to find him chatting with the couple at the table next to us. Uh-oh, what now? It turns out that they generously offered some advice while I was gone: 1) Stop talking about your damn allergies. 2) Stop talking so much, period. And the kicker: 3) We don't think it's going very well, you're going to have to ratch it up a notch if you want to keep this one.

But isn't the fact that he shared all that with me pretty endearing? Isn't his nervousness kind of cute? And isn't the fact that he said, multiple times, "There's just something about you, Hap. I've been looking forward to this date all week," reason enough for a third date? Yep. I'm either a glutton for punishment, or very very optimistic.

Who's your roomie?

My roommate, A., and I have lived together for almost two years. I met her on Craigslist when my good friend Arlene decided to move to London. There is almost nothing bad I can say about A. (Ok, there's one very bad thing I can say: She speaks to her boyfriend in a baby voice. You can't just look past that. She has some other strange habits, too, but as far as roommates go, she's pretty killer--mostly because she's almost never here.

Exhibits A,B,C,D,E and F: She comes home at 9-10 p.m. on average, and she spends every weekend (all weekend) with her boyfriend. And when she's here, she never spends more than 45 seconds in the living room. She pays for half of the cable and cable modem, yet doesn't use either. She never cooks, so she doesn't leave a mess or a smell in the kitchen. I've never heard her and her boyfriend in bed. (Although I have overheard them playing Snoopy Monopoly). So, really, I can't complain because it's as close to living alone as I can get without actually living alone.

And as much as I enjoy (cherish, crave, desperately need plenty of) time alone, I've come to the realization that if I do indeed share a space with someone, I would like to actually be able to share the space. Hang out on the couch together and watch The Amazing Race. Share a pint of Ben and Jerry's. Spend the morning cleaning the apartment. Go for a drink. My roommate and I do none of these things. And it sucks.

So, as I announced to her this evening that I had gotten the OK from our landlord to break our lease early, and that I could find a subletter if she wanted to stay, I felt uncharacteristically not guilty. If I was in her place, I'd be pissed off and annoyed. But in this situation, I simply told her the situation and went back to my side of the apartment. And I secretly smiled at all the excitement that lay ahead--a new apartment, new roommates, a new neighborhood, and housewarming gifts!