everything... but nothing important

first thing's first: i didn't get the job i wanted. i spent a weekend working on the application, wrote a cover letter. i dressed up and took the bus downtown to hand in my hard work personally. i gave them a week, then called, emailed them to follow up. these are things i never do; i apply for jobs online and expect something to fall into my lap sooner or later.

the interview went well. again, i dressed up. i actually looked at my hair before i walked out of the house, before i walked into the building. i chewed gum so my breath wouldn't smell like cigarettes and coffee. they asked questions, told me about the business philosophy. i made them laugh and had good answers. smart answers. i was well spoken and polite. they told me they would call on thursday.

and they did. and they said they were frustrated. and they told me they couldn't offer me a job at this time - they didn't have the hours at the location where i applied, and didn't want to transfer me to another store i would have difficulty commuting to. and they told me to check back in a month because they really liked me. they 'enjoyed' me. i wanted to tell them i couldn't really wait around a month, but kept my mouth shut. i probably _will_ wait around a month, because i don't think i really want to work anywhere else.

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the boy and i broke up. about a month ago. at first, i was reluctant. i thought maybe i was being hasty, that we could work things out. now, i think we should have broken up a year ago.

everything's fine. we're living together, still; i'm looking for a place but haven't found anything yet. we get along better now than we did, and i'm happy to have him as a friend.

when i tell people i'm single (and i've only told about three people - it's not the kind of thing that warrants my calling everyone i know), they sound so concerned. they want to know: what happened? are you okay? nothing happened. it just wasn't right. i'm fine. we're friends.

just before we decided to call it quits, i told him - i've got this thing for someone else. and he told me - i've had a thing for someone else. she was in one of his classes last semester. we ran into her one afternoon when getting coffee. i remembered her hair, and i told him to email her. now, he's got a date next week.

when i tell people about this, they think it's weird. maybe it is weird, but it doesn't feel weird. i tell them - i care about the boy and i want him to be happy. maybe this one will make him happy. it makes me happy to see him excited, to imagine that she's excited about getting a drink with him on the hill one night, about going salsa dancing in the right shoes. i never liked to dance and i hate shoes.

people tell me it could get weird. and i'll agree - she might think it's weird. she might think the boy is strange for living with me and dating other people. she might feel awkward coming to our house and meeting me (because he will tell her, and if it gets to that point, she will meet me. that's the way these things work). she might get jealous and think the boy still has feelings for me. but i will clear it up for her - he was more certain than i was, at first. he was more ready. he doesn't hug me the way a person hugs a girlfriend, doesn't ever try to kiss me. i will tell her how his eyes lit up when she told him he was an intriguing person, how we jumped up and down and gave each other high fives. and then she will tell me our relationship is weird, just like everyone else.

what can i say? there's nothing weird about letting someone be happy. i think it's everyone else that's weird.

a love letter

most of the time, i am reasonable. i am not the psychotic stalker i used to be. i will never drive by your house and crawl into your window. i will never pull a kitchen knife on you, will never press a taser to the skin of your throat. i will never sleep with you under the pretense that i'm not looking for any thing serious, and then insist you commit to me and only me, thus driving you away much more rapidly than i had ever intended.

most of the time, i am reasonable. i don't feel heartbroken, because i know. i know, you are much older than me, i am too young for you. i know, you have a child. i know, you don't wear a ring, but that doesn't mean someone else hasn't already claimed you, that you haven't already claimed someone much more beautiful, much more exotic, much more interesting. i know, there is too much of a wiggle in my belly, around my hips. i know, i smoke, and it's disgusting. i know, sometimes you are arrogant, and maybe just a little misogynistic. i know, it will never happen.

but:

when you hand back my graded papers, i think -this squiggly line, here, it's kind of shaped like a little heart. sometimes, some nights, i imagine, maybe, you're looking at me in a way i'd liked to be looked at by someone exactly like you. sometimes, i catch you looking at me out of the corner of my eye - i wasn't talking, there wasn't a reason, you just wanted to look, just wanted to stare dreamily at me with your cheek resting gently against your hand - and i wonder if it means something. sometimes, when you smile at me, i'm sure that smile is different than the smiles you give to everyone else.

you should know you make me a little nervous. you should know this isn't the first time. you should know i'm buying step two of the nicotine patch tonight, and that i'm throwing out all of my cigarettes. you should know that, if i had the money, i would join a gym, go kyaking, do yoga. you should know i sometimes jog with my dog in the park. you should know i'm writing this only because it's completely safe, completely anonymous, and at the same time, because there is a microscopic chance you will read this and know it is me. you should know i stare at the crotch of your pants in class, sometimes. you should know i wouldn't mind making out with you in the back of my ex's subaru. you should know i have plans to ask you out for a drink, plans i will never go through with because i'd vomit on you just thinking the words in my head in your presence. you should know, even though i know better, i'm going to keep waiting, keep looking for that perfect moment when you tell me something i want to hear with your eyes, with your hands, with your mouth. you should know that i just can't help myself.

this is it: a rant.

i went to look at a house today. longmont, three bedrooms, carpet in the kitchen. it's kind of a dump, but i could care less - sooner or later, one of my cats will vomit on that kitchen carpet and leave a stain.

the leasing agent was ten minutes late. she stood in the kitchen on her cell phone the entire time we looked at the property, and casually swore, as if we weren't standing there wanting to rent a house from a reputable company, as if we didn't warrant a good impression. she had mascara smeared under her right eye. i asked her - will the landlord lease to someone with a pit bull? she said she thought not, but would confirm and get back to me. then she asked - does he have a history of attacking people?

are you an idiot? is your head shoved up your ass? do you live under a rock? why is the first fucking question out of your mouth - does your pit bull have a history of attacking people? i've had enough of this ass-backwards bullshit. not all pit bulls are aggressive, horrible, baby-killing monsters. their jaws do not lock when they bite. yes, they have been bred to be dog-aggressive, but they have also been bred to nanny your fucking children while your lazy ass drinks hot toddys in the tea room at sunset. somewhere, in the back of my mind, when you say these dumbass things to me, i think - do you also ask the mexican couple who wants to rent your property if they'll be bringing their entire, non-english speaking extended family with them? do you always make assumptions based on stereotypes? are you an ignorant, prejudiced, racist fuck? maybe i'm an asshole, but that's the way it goes.

my dog loves other dogs and is completely appropriate. he loves people, and, yes, he loves babies and children too. he lives with three cats and has never even once tried to chase them or harm them in any way. he is obedient and loving, and incredibly fucking cute. if he had some sort of behavioral issue, i would tell you because i am a responsible dog owner and don't want any thing bad to happen any more than you do. that being said, i'd like you all to know just one thing: my dog is a pit bull, and he is better than your dog. if you could meet him, you would agree with me.