buying newer car induces emotional drama

Who would have thought that buying a new (and by “new,” I mean different) car would bring about such challenging emotions?

Let me explain: The last time I shopped for a car, I was already driving an amazingly cool sports car. I started shopping for my “winter beater” and ended up instead with a fantastic, luxurious sedan that drove like a dream and had nearly every feature I could have imagined… For at least the first six months — and maybe then some — I rejoiced every time I got in the car to drive it…but that was more than a decade ago.

This time, I found myself driven to practicality: low gas mileage, cloth seats (at the children’s request, because leather is too hot), older than I would have liked… And, here’s the truth: I resent it. I resent being in a place where I have to focus more on needs than desires, where I don’t have the financial freedom to buy the car I really want, where the cost of a gallon of gas matters, etc. I’m perfectly certain I sound spoiled for saying so. I know there are zillions of people for whom financial realities preclude the thought of vehicle ownership. I know I should be grateful for what I have. But…

As always, when I’m feeling resentful, my thoughts veer back to my ex and our failed relationship, key reasons for my financial situation. Yet, as I continually remind myself, I made these choices. I made each and every single choice that has me where I am. I settled for a house I don’t love because my wasband liked this one the best; I stayed in a job I didn’t love because I felt trapped under the weight of having to support my family single-handedly; and now I’ve settled for a car I don’t love because it seemed like the most practical thing to do.

Yet in the larger scheme of life, I’m trying to stop settling for less than I truly want. I’m working hard emotionally and otherwise to ensure that I can not only provide for the desires of myself and my children, but also allow for them. It’s okay for me to have what I want. When I shop for clothes, I don’t buy it unless I love it. Like just isn’t good enough. I want to use my resources to surround myself with that which I truly love!

To that end, in this old house that wasn’t my first choice, I have transformed spaces and made it warm and inviting, and a safe place to land. Similarly, I will ultimately reconcile myself to the fact that this car is safer for me, more comfortable for my children, road-trip worthy and, ultimately, provides freedom that I haven’t felt for some time. No longer will I literally fear driving out of town.

And so I try to balance, to reconcile, and to heal the rift between what I need and what I desire, between good enough and my ideal, between resentment and gratitude, between failure and success…and I know that this is just another step along my path. And, even when it doesn’t always feel like it right away, I’m pretty sure it’s a step in the right direction.

on drunk dialing / texting

Last weekend…

I’m home from a Memorial weekend barbecue and I’ve had two whole drinks which, when one imbibes as much as I do (rarely or not at all), can render me word-slurring inebriated. And of course my natural instinct is to dial up or text Chi-guy or more-like-it or some other obscure item from my past. So I thought I’d see if I can write instead and make a go of musing about what sort of foolish crap might come out of my mouth if I actual did dial someone up.

First of all, if I did dial Chi-guy, would he be amused or annoyed with me? He no longer drinks at all, remember. He is charming and sweet and long-suffering, as far as I can tell. And, the last time we were together, he suggested I order an after-dinner drink…which were listed under “Happy Endings” on the menu. I thought briefly about suggesting that he might give me one instead which, frankly, might have opened that whole discussion a little less awkwardly. In any case, Chi-guy treats me with a certain combination of “you’re so sweet!” and “you’re a total slut!” and condescension. I know that sounds bad, but it’s actually a great balance of hysterically funny and positively charming, without being syrupy sweet. Sure, I’d watch the tone very closely if ever I were to spend time with him, but the jabs that could be mean are so well timed and outright hilarious that it’s difficult to imagine that he could ever mean harm. That said, a couple years into a relationship, one views things entirely differently…

If I texted more-like-it, would he respond? I haven’t told you that we communicate regularly, weirdly. What is that, anyway? What is that “I know you’re looking for something special, so I’m out. Hey how’s your week going?” WTF? A man who wants to be friends, really? So why are we always talking about sex? Especially when his online dating profile clearly stated he didn’t want to be friends with benefits? Yeah, I’m a little confused about that one.

But all that’s cool. Here’s why: because I’m not chasing men. If a guy is interested, he’s going to be absolutely certain I know. Hell, even the guy in the adjacent cubicle at work has made clear he finds me attractive, even without saying anything out of line. If anything, it’s me who’s exhibited the appallingly bad behavior. I am simply not cut out for corporate HR departments…how the hell would I deal with me in a similar situation?!

So thank you for listening to my mojito-induced blather…and for keeping me out of trouble! Good night.

do men notice or appreciate toe cleavage?

It was only a few months ago that I first heard of toe cleavage…and I thought, “is that really a thing?”

So when some girlfriends recently commented on a cute pair of shoes that highlighted my toe cleavage, I thought about it again: Do men really notice this sort of thing? And, if they do, do they find it sexy?

So my curiosity led me to take an informal poll among the few men who are regularly a part of my ongoing male-female relationship dynamic conversation. Here are their responses:

The lobbyist: “No and definitely not.” Further inquiry / pushing the issue led to “Yuk!”
Chi-guy: “No and no. I like that you are secure enough to talk about your totally weird foot fetish.” Followed by, “Actual cleavage is often noticed… Anyway, I notice kindness.” And later, “I’ll suck your toes while you whisper kind things…”
more-like-it: “I enjoy nice feet… Love to massage them…” followed by a very graphic description of a sexual position / activity to which I could only reply, “You’re naughty!”
By far the best response came from the guy in the cubicle next to me who I clearly should not have even asked (Hello HR!), but did: He nodded thoughtfully and said ever so diplomatically, “Mm-hmm. Different guys notice different aspects of a woman’s appearance to different degrees. Some guys are going to be in to feet, some are more in to other things.”

For the record, I don’t have a foot fetish myself. I’m just not grossed out by feet (as long as a certain level of hygiene is employed), and I appreciate having my own feet enjoyed. I take care to keep them looking nice, and I like having them rubbed, and I think it’s lovely when a man isn’t afraid to pay a little attention to the lowly feet and toes as a part of physical intimacy.

So, there you have it. There are men who are completely foot-phobic. And, while it’s a little, simple thing, this whole discussion clearly illustrates that the kind of guy who is grossed out by feet is not the guy for me.