It's been a pretty wild roller coaster of a ride...but less in a fun/laughy way and more in a freaky/barfing way. I am going back to my old job on Monday. It's a temporary gig--just till the sale of our assets goes through. They didn't want everything to sit and be a "melting ice-cube", meaning our value ebbs away, the longer everything sits stagnating. Once the sale goes through, it's very possible that most of us could get offers to go back to our old jobs. To someone who is as uncomfortable with change as I am, the idea of going back to my nice comfy cubicle and picking up where I left off seems like a lovely warm blanket beckoning me in this storm of change. But I know the reality of the situation might not be so comfy. There might be snakes in that bed.
So I've trudged on with the job search. I had a phone screen today (my 2nd with this company) and was promptly invited to come in for a face to face interview next week. Yay, right? But I'm not being over-dramatic when I say that this interview is a little terrifying to me--like, truth be told, I'm positively dreading it. And the interview is just the cage-rattling leading up to the total planet-shift of a new job, should that come to be. All my big talk in a previous post about shunning heavy drugs...that notion has been cast aside as I contemplate the idea of a total change and thoughts leap to the sample packet of some crazy drug in my linen closet that I got during my last time of great stress and possible upheaval. I had set them aside, deciding to stay the course with therapy and chamomile tea (among other things). But now, the side-effects of some dreaded pill seem a small price to pay to just stay steady, get through everything, not pass out in an interview (so if you see me in a few months and I'm 60 pounds heavier, you will know why).
I really don't want this blog to turn into a place where I go to whine about being anxious and unemployed. I mean, that's pretty much where my head's at these days, but it's also not what I want my life to be all about. So please let me take this opportunity to switch gears completely and tell a story. I had originally promised I'd also use this blog to tell some old stories from my dating days...so let me begin that by telling you about Aaron (and quite honestly, my memory fails me, but I swear, I think it was spelled Erin...like a girl...I seem to recall that being a 'thing' my friends pointed out right off the bat). And so yeah, in this case, names have not been changed to protect anyone's identity.
My pal Lisa has been one of my closest friends since we met in college. She was always the wild and crazy one, dating some hot guy or another, while I always had long-term boyfriends. But then she married a great guy, had a couple beautiful little girls and settled down. Several years ago, Dave and I were broken up and I went over to Lisa's brother's house for dinner when she was in town for a visit. After dinner, she insisted that I "just look" at what matches I'd get on eharmony. Next thing you know, she's signing me up, "happy early birthday!", she said. But really, it was also a little bit like a present for her and her husband Nick too. I gave them my password so they could see my matches and pick guys for me. They spent several weeks doing this as their weekend fun.
One of the guys seemed really promising. He was my 'good on paper' guy. He had a good sense of humor, an interesting job, loved travel, ran marathons, coached a cross country team, was on a school board....the list went on. Plus, he was nice looking. We met for our first date and I was happy to see that he was as handsome as his photos that he'd posted. However, he was dressed a little 90s-ish...mock turtleneck, hiked up jeans, dorky shoes...I let that go though. You can always fix superficial stuff like that down the road, I reasoned.
Over dinner, we had plenty to talk about. But he talked about his Jeep Wrangler quite a bit. It would have been fine, but he said "it's a jeep thing" more than once. The red flag began to peek up a bit, but I ignored it. You can't criticize someone for being enthusiastic about their interests, can you?
Then in the course of conversation, he mentioned that he had only started drinking a couple years before (and we were both in our mid-30s). I was surprised by that bit of information so I asked him some questions about it. "What do you like to drink?" I asked, just keeping the conversation going.
"Oh," he said without pause, "I like Slippery Nipples and Red-headed Sluts".
As I write this, it just now occurs to me that maybe that could have been some sort of hint, like he was being pervy or something...I might have even had my hair dyed red at the time, now that I think about it. But honestly, my reaction at the time, and really until I just wrote this was, hmm...that's kind of weird to have just started drinking in your 30s and to disclose that you prefer to drink something a 19-year-old girl would order in Windsor. I found it to be amusing and let it pass, reasoning that I should not criticize someone for not drinking...after all, I'd dealt with enough drinking issues with my ex-husband to last me a lifetime (but that's a whole other story). So I actually thought, well, maybe that's kind of refreshingly naive.
The next week, he invited me to join him on a bike ride in Hines Park. I am not a big cyclist. I like putzing around town on my old clunky Schwinn and that's about it. I told him I loved that idea, but warned him that my bike was old and heavy and had no gears so I was good for about 5 miles--maybe 8, tops. We got to the park and had a lovely ride. We got about 8 miles out and I realized it wasn't a loop....nope, we had to turn around and do 8 miles back. And there were hills. Big ones. I held my own though, I'm proud to say.
Afterward, we went to a pizza place to grab a bite to eat. It was a beautiful October day, but as the sun went down, it got chilly and a cold rain began to fall. But there we were in the Jeep Wrangler, with the top down..."it's a Jeep thing," he reminded me.
At the restaurant, we talked about music at one point and I asked him what kind of music he liked. "Oh, I like all kinds of music. I like dance music a lot."
I like a lot of music too, but I'm not so into current poppy stuff so I said, "oh, like what?"
"Oh, like Haddaway," he said. "You know that song, "What is love"?"
"Ooooh....yeah." And then we went home. With the top up. And we never contacted each other again.
Now, I don't want to sound conceited, but it's amusing to me that he didn't call me either. It makes me curious to think of what he thought as I disclosed the weird little details of my life to him. I'm sure he probably ended up with some girl who is excited for spring so they can put the top down on the Wrangler and jam out to 'What is love"--and that's great. I suppose that's a good reminder right now with all of these interviews going on...it's a little like dating. You might not like the Wrangler guy, but he might not be into you either and that's just fine. Everyone's just looking for a match that makes them comfortable. Everyone just wants their Jeep thing.
I'd certainly like to hear some of the stories about your ex!!! ;)
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