So, here is the quick and dirty of why I left Philadelphia. It seems to be the question on everyone's mind (well, ok, not EVERYONE) so here goes. Ready?
Love. Stupid, fucked up love. No, I didn't relocate to be with the man I love but relocated to get away from the man I shouldn't love. Before my dad and brother go all chicken killer on him, no, he didn't beat me just couldn't keep his wang in his pants. An affliction I am finding is all too common amongst the menfolk.
However, even after his wang wandered, I accepted his apology and fell back into mad, tragic love. Ugh. Where had my self esteem and self worth gone? Did I sell them for rent money?
Who knows. So, in order to get my life on a healthy track I had to get the hell out of Dodge. So, here I am.
Life here in Colorado does not suck, not even a little. I'm living with my cousin in a wonderful home that is tucked away in the mountains (my view every morning is of the Continental Divide) in a small town that is reminiscent of "Northern Exposure." Every morning, Darby (2d best dog ever!) and I go for a walk down to the coffee shop (which is literally through the woods and situated next to a lake) where we pick up a Chai Tea and chat with Howard. I try to fill the rest of my day with studying and exercise.
Exercise in Colorado is amazing. Ok, you can confine yourself to a gym...if you're a freak! Living so close to the lake I have discovered a new form of exercise; ice skating. Snowshoeing? If you've never tried I highly recommend it. Your butt will thank you. Running? Ok, first I needed to get used to the fact that air molecules at this elevation weren't exactly bumping into each other but after that, incredible trails, amazing views and as a bonus I got much faster once I saw my first mountain lion.
When I first arrived in Colorado, I'm talking fresh off the plane, I was greeted by an older gentleman in a cowboy hat who was giving directions to baggage claim. Unlike any other airport personnel I've ever encountered he was genuinely happy to help! This holds true for everyone else in Colorado not just those in the service industry. People here are so friendly that jaded Easterners like myself could get suspicious.
Ok, another example of friendliness. Driving down the street, the pedestrians wave at you. Not a "Help, I'm being followed" kind of wave, just a "Hello! Nice to see you!" kind of wave.
I like it.
More importantly, for me, not you, well, maybe you, I suppose it depends on how well you know me. I'm smiling again. Really, really smiling again. I'm happy. That is something I haven't been able to say for a long time.
xo
Monday, January 4, 2010
Saturday, October 25, 2008
When is a cougar not a cougar?
(I wrote this while I was living in Philly, that's why the bar references are familiar)
When is a Cougar not a Cougar?
The reason I ask is because I'm afraid I may be one.
First of all, I don't think I'm old enough to be a cougar. I'm thirtysomething- on this side of forty but still in my thirties.
Second, I don't pursue the puppies, they pursue me! It is not like I go to Irish Pub or hangout in Old City looking to score a Penn frat boy but it seems to me that they seek me out.
You be the judge.
Kyle, 13 years my junior, Drexel Grad student and IT guy at my old law firm. Kyle and I met at work and while I thought he was super cute I knew how young he was and that was enough to keep me from any hard core flirting. One day, Kyle stopped at my desk and asked if I wanted to go to lunch; hungry, I grabbed my purse and we were off.
At lunch Kyle and I chatted, laughed and gossiped about our coworkers and things were going pretty well; until the check came. Kyle paid. What?! When did this become a date? Was he just being kind? Was I overreacting?
Fast forward to 6 o'clock when I had to work a bit later than usual and Kyle was still in the office. Ok, so, true I sought him out because I was having legitimate computer issues but before I knew it we were making out in the server room.
Our kissing relationship lasted for a few weeks and abruptly ended when I went to his apartment and saw the Miller Lite posters on his bedroom wall.
Lars, 10 years my junior, doctoral candidate. Ok, Lars and I met at a bar. I was on a date (a very very very boring date) when my date and I ran into a group of my friends. I bellied my way up to the bar right next to Lars and struck up a conversation. "Where was my date?" you ask. Don't worry about him, he was entertaining himself by talking to some woman's chest. Anyway, Lars and I chatted for a bit with some mild flirting (arm touching, smiling and eyelash batting), it was fun and sweet and fleeting, or so I thought.
On my way home from the bar my friend Melissa text messaged me to ask if she could give Lars my phone number. Of course I said yes, ten minutes later I got this text from Lars, "Don't make plans for next Saturday because I'm taking you to dinner."
What the what?!
Finally, there was Job. Yeah, I went there. Biblical reference. He was a peripheral friend that I always thought was cute. We (by we I mean I was at hash) were all out (at hash) and I had a few cups of courage and very pointedly asked him, "Are we ever going to make out?" Well, if you think we made out a few minutes later you guessed correctly!
Ok. I admit that one was on me. I mean, you know what I mean, I initiated the flirting and kissing. It wasn't until later that I found out his age and while I was cool with just "friendly time" he wanted more and yay for me!
So. Now explain to me how, if the younger man pursues me then how am I the cougar?
Anyhoo, if you want to label me as a cougar that's fine with me! Demi Moore, Cameron Diaz, Halle Berry? I could be in worse company!
Plus, the last guy I dated was my age and he just sent me a pic of his ween. Ummm....ewww.
None of the pups would ever do that to me!
When is a Cougar not a Cougar?
The reason I ask is because I'm afraid I may be one.
First of all, I don't think I'm old enough to be a cougar. I'm thirtysomething- on this side of forty but still in my thirties.
Second, I don't pursue the puppies, they pursue me! It is not like I go to Irish Pub or hangout in Old City looking to score a Penn frat boy but it seems to me that they seek me out.
You be the judge.
Kyle, 13 years my junior, Drexel Grad student and IT guy at my old law firm. Kyle and I met at work and while I thought he was super cute I knew how young he was and that was enough to keep me from any hard core flirting. One day, Kyle stopped at my desk and asked if I wanted to go to lunch; hungry, I grabbed my purse and we were off.
At lunch Kyle and I chatted, laughed and gossiped about our coworkers and things were going pretty well; until the check came. Kyle paid. What?! When did this become a date? Was he just being kind? Was I overreacting?
Fast forward to 6 o'clock when I had to work a bit later than usual and Kyle was still in the office. Ok, so, true I sought him out because I was having legitimate computer issues but before I knew it we were making out in the server room.
Our kissing relationship lasted for a few weeks and abruptly ended when I went to his apartment and saw the Miller Lite posters on his bedroom wall.
Lars, 10 years my junior, doctoral candidate. Ok, Lars and I met at a bar. I was on a date (a very very very boring date) when my date and I ran into a group of my friends. I bellied my way up to the bar right next to Lars and struck up a conversation. "Where was my date?" you ask. Don't worry about him, he was entertaining himself by talking to some woman's chest. Anyway, Lars and I chatted for a bit with some mild flirting (arm touching, smiling and eyelash batting), it was fun and sweet and fleeting, or so I thought.
On my way home from the bar my friend Melissa text messaged me to ask if she could give Lars my phone number. Of course I said yes, ten minutes later I got this text from Lars, "Don't make plans for next Saturday because I'm taking you to dinner."
What the what?!
Finally, there was Job. Yeah, I went there. Biblical reference. He was a peripheral friend that I always thought was cute. We (by we I mean I was at hash) were all out (at hash) and I had a few cups of courage and very pointedly asked him, "Are we ever going to make out?" Well, if you think we made out a few minutes later you guessed correctly!
Ok. I admit that one was on me. I mean, you know what I mean, I initiated the flirting and kissing. It wasn't until later that I found out his age and while I was cool with just "friendly time" he wanted more and yay for me!
So. Now explain to me how, if the younger man pursues me then how am I the cougar?
Anyhoo, if you want to label me as a cougar that's fine with me! Demi Moore, Cameron Diaz, Halle Berry? I could be in worse company!
Plus, the last guy I dated was my age and he just sent me a pic of his ween. Ummm....ewww.
None of the pups would ever do that to me!
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