Well, it turns out, you can. I apologize for my disappearance over the last two months, but honestly, there hasn't been enough action to share.
Now I thought I would give you some advise on those that once were. You may have been tempted to dip your toes in the water again that may have given you enlightenment or even a rash. And let me tell you, you can dip your toe in it again. But, if the first time around, you received enlightenment, let me be the first to admit, it is never as good as the first time. Let the memory of the fling of the past stay in the past. Let your mind warp it into a fantasy of all shapes and sizes almost to the point that you don't even recognize yourself in the story. But, if you do this, do not think that if you have the opportunity to fling what you flung before, will be ever as good as the "memory" you made it to be.
I was pleasantly surprised when a vacation fling from 3 years ago popped up in Chile a few weeks back, to find out that while I was on that vacation, my alcohol goggles were not that thick. He was cute. He was still young, it seems that as you age in your thirties it takes so much longer for them to leave their twenties. But, it was nice to catch up. Now, remember, I am in no place to start anything, and really, I don't want to want to get too much information about a potential or past fling's life, and find myself wrapped up in their drama. Well when the fifth sentence out of a past fling's mouth after 3 years to you is, "well, I basically had the worst year of my life after I met you". You tend to lose all sorts of flutters you may have had in your stomach prior to the re-rendezvous.
When you are on vacation, do yourself a favor, either leave with the fling in your heart and the hope for potential. Or leave the fling in Belize with the memories you make them up to be! While reuniting can feel so good, it can also destroy any potential make believe stories you would like to have of him in the future.
I'm often told the look on my face and my eyes tell the story of my what I'm thinking before I actually say anything. So since you can't see what my eyes are saying during these situations, here are the stories...
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Happy birthday! Pretend someone is interested in you
This past Friday I celebrated my 32.2 birthday. You see I don't have to age another year this year because the seasons are so opposite from what I am used to, that I figure, same goes for aging! I wasn't sure how I was going to feel on this birthday. I'm 5000 miles away from so many of the people that I love and cherish, and yet I am here making new friends and experiences and so many adventures. Well I did okay, only 3 times did I let tears fall. People near and people far made me feel so loved, that the tears that were shed were because of an overwhelming emotion of gratitude. But as with every birthday, I reflected over the past year. The changes I have made, the dreams I have had and the blessings for which I am thankful. And then I also remembered, well, there goes another year single. And I am picky, I know, the older I get, the pickier I seem to get which means I have made this lifestyle for myself. And there are really only two days out of the year where it is alarmingly obvious that I am single, on my birthday and on New Year's eve. I'd almost rather spend NYE by myself than with a room full of friends who all happen to be couples because when that clock strikes midnight, I feel like that girl who didn't get asked to dance the last dance in middle school, awkward. I become aware of the situation, I don't get upset about it, I just find it all very obvious, if only to me.
Then…there are those select people who won't let it go. The ones who think the only thing they can socially talk to you about is your dating life. The ones who can turn a conversation so awkward that everyone needs an escape. And that is one of my colleagues. On my birthday one of my best friends had a gorgeous bouquet of flowers delivered to me. Flowers are my favorite gift, they brighten a day, a room, and any attitude. I loved that my dear friend sent them to me. She knows me so well, she knew that would be something I would cherish. So I had them sitting on my desk, basking in the glory of the fact that they were mine, from my friend, I am loved. Then in walks "Sheri", who I find to be one of the more annoying people I have ever not had the pleasure of knowing. First thing out of her mouth "oooh, are those from a guy?". I responded with a big grin on my face and said "no, they are from my good girlfriend". She gave me a look of not just pity, but I swear her eyes filled up with tears. She responds with "oh, I thought they may have been from a man. I'm sorry they are not". I told her I wasn't sorry and I wanted so badly for her to just stop talking. But she's one of those that doesn't stop, even with a mouth full of food while also swallowing her foot, she still goes on. "Don't tell people they are from her, tell them they are from a guy so they think you have someone". Holy shit! Are you serious? I had to tell someone, on my birthday, that I was okay with being single. When I wanted to both punch her in the face and crawl into a hole. 5000 miles away from my social comfort zone where I could make fun of her and her comment until the end of the day was the most difficult part of that entire exchange.
So with 32.1, I did not fall in love, but I did accept a proposal to change my life and move to South America. Now with 32.2, who knows what this year will bring. But it started off with love from friends and family, flowers, tears, reflection and most importantly, laughter.
Then…there are those select people who won't let it go. The ones who think the only thing they can socially talk to you about is your dating life. The ones who can turn a conversation so awkward that everyone needs an escape. And that is one of my colleagues. On my birthday one of my best friends had a gorgeous bouquet of flowers delivered to me. Flowers are my favorite gift, they brighten a day, a room, and any attitude. I loved that my dear friend sent them to me. She knows me so well, she knew that would be something I would cherish. So I had them sitting on my desk, basking in the glory of the fact that they were mine, from my friend, I am loved. Then in walks "Sheri", who I find to be one of the more annoying people I have ever not had the pleasure of knowing. First thing out of her mouth "oooh, are those from a guy?". I responded with a big grin on my face and said "no, they are from my good girlfriend". She gave me a look of not just pity, but I swear her eyes filled up with tears. She responds with "oh, I thought they may have been from a man. I'm sorry they are not". I told her I wasn't sorry and I wanted so badly for her to just stop talking. But she's one of those that doesn't stop, even with a mouth full of food while also swallowing her foot, she still goes on. "Don't tell people they are from her, tell them they are from a guy so they think you have someone". Holy shit! Are you serious? I had to tell someone, on my birthday, that I was okay with being single. When I wanted to both punch her in the face and crawl into a hole. 5000 miles away from my social comfort zone where I could make fun of her and her comment until the end of the day was the most difficult part of that entire exchange.
So with 32.1, I did not fall in love, but I did accept a proposal to change my life and move to South America. Now with 32.2, who knows what this year will bring. But it started off with love from friends and family, flowers, tears, reflection and most importantly, laughter.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
In the words of R.Kelly, "Take Yo Shit"
So, let´s bring it back to the basics of this blog. I started this little online collection of stories to reflect and laugh about my somewhat ironic dating life. Well, I´ve moved to Santiago and since met a guy who asked me if I could picture us getting serious after we met and went on a walk, I met a guy who offered to teach me Spanish but bartered with a weekend away at his parent´s house and I met someone who invited me for coffee after a Saturday night rendezvous only to ask me for help in getting a job at my company. So, these guys weren´t the ones me. In fact, I realized soon after Mr. One Stop Relationship Talk that I just wasn´t in a place for a relationship. I needed to get to know myself here in Chile and explore and be free and have no obligations. The Spanish teacher informed me that Chilean women would not have read into his offer of meeting the parents and daily chocolates as hitting on them, but merely kind and normal gestures. Side note...how is that ever normal? And Saturday Night Coffee Job Guy...it is one thing to never call, but to not pay for coffee AND still have the balls to ask for help for a job? There is something to be learned here.
Now, on to the next part. I have often heard about girls who leave their underwear or purse at someone´s house after having slept over. And I have never understood that. I mean how do you forget to put on the one thing that must go on before pants? I am going to be blatently honest, it is the first thing I put on before any other clothing. It just becomes a habit after you stopped peeing in your diaper. Am I right? And if you wore a bra out the night before, isn´t that because the braless look was one of two things...inappropriate or uncomfortable? So again, how could you leave underwear that you had on in the first place. And your purse. Really? Your purse? Didn´t you need to reach in there to touch up your makeup before you "woke-up" looking fresh faced and gorgeous? And then you forgot it? If you didn´t feel like wearing underwear home, wouldn´t you use your purse to stuff it in and get the f´ out? Well, I finally came privy to the information that it isn´t forgotten per say, it is actually a tactic. He has something to remember you by OR a reason to call. OR you have literally just guaranteed an embarrassing facebook posting "xx, you left your drawers last night" or in my case, you probably guaranteed indenity theft and credit card purchases at Buckee´s. Either way, I don´t get the forget and dash. I just don´t. I´ve never forgotten to put on my underwear before I leave for work, so how could I do it before I leave to go scarf down that turkey burger to soak up last night´s mistakes? Exactly.
Now, I had a, umm, "friend", come by about 2 months ago. We met up and he was wearing glasses, probably because he needed them to see. But when I found them on my entry table the next morning, you can imagine my disappointment. Now, you were wearing them for site 12 hours earlier, but now you can make it out and down the street and to the subway and on to your parents and just in time to be able to read and write a text message that says "whoops! I´ll come by and get them later.". Umm, no you won´t. We talked about this, but a man needs to see and I can´t throw away glasses. So we met for lunch. We became friends. I invited him to a dinner party at my house with about 15 other friends. He was nice enough to bring a salad. He left when the others left. He got home, went to sleep, woke up, and was able to write and send a text that read "whoops! I´ll come by to get the container I left later." Are you serious? Nope. Here´s the hint, take yo shit. I mean, I appreciate the flirtatious gesture behind it, but let´s grab a hint. After I leave your container at my front desk for you to pick up while I am out of town, sending me a text asking to "stop by" late one Saturday night is still not appropriate.
So far in my time here, I have learned South American men are a whole different breed I need to understand. It´s like 15 years of dating and I am starting all over again. Oh...so much to learn, so little time!
Now, on to the next part. I have often heard about girls who leave their underwear or purse at someone´s house after having slept over. And I have never understood that. I mean how do you forget to put on the one thing that must go on before pants? I am going to be blatently honest, it is the first thing I put on before any other clothing. It just becomes a habit after you stopped peeing in your diaper. Am I right? And if you wore a bra out the night before, isn´t that because the braless look was one of two things...inappropriate or uncomfortable? So again, how could you leave underwear that you had on in the first place. And your purse. Really? Your purse? Didn´t you need to reach in there to touch up your makeup before you "woke-up" looking fresh faced and gorgeous? And then you forgot it? If you didn´t feel like wearing underwear home, wouldn´t you use your purse to stuff it in and get the f´ out? Well, I finally came privy to the information that it isn´t forgotten per say, it is actually a tactic. He has something to remember you by OR a reason to call. OR you have literally just guaranteed an embarrassing facebook posting "xx, you left your drawers last night" or in my case, you probably guaranteed indenity theft and credit card purchases at Buckee´s. Either way, I don´t get the forget and dash. I just don´t. I´ve never forgotten to put on my underwear before I leave for work, so how could I do it before I leave to go scarf down that turkey burger to soak up last night´s mistakes? Exactly.
Now, I had a, umm, "friend", come by about 2 months ago. We met up and he was wearing glasses, probably because he needed them to see. But when I found them on my entry table the next morning, you can imagine my disappointment. Now, you were wearing them for site 12 hours earlier, but now you can make it out and down the street and to the subway and on to your parents and just in time to be able to read and write a text message that says "whoops! I´ll come by and get them later.". Umm, no you won´t. We talked about this, but a man needs to see and I can´t throw away glasses. So we met for lunch. We became friends. I invited him to a dinner party at my house with about 15 other friends. He was nice enough to bring a salad. He left when the others left. He got home, went to sleep, woke up, and was able to write and send a text that read "whoops! I´ll come by to get the container I left later." Are you serious? Nope. Here´s the hint, take yo shit. I mean, I appreciate the flirtatious gesture behind it, but let´s grab a hint. After I leave your container at my front desk for you to pick up while I am out of town, sending me a text asking to "stop by" late one Saturday night is still not appropriate.
So far in my time here, I have learned South American men are a whole different breed I need to understand. It´s like 15 years of dating and I am starting all over again. Oh...so much to learn, so little time!
Friday, June 1, 2012
Update on You Look Worried
I took some time to myself, to really reflect and consider my decision and my choices and I decided to go on another hike…
I packed my backpack full of water and peanuts and a sandwich and fruit and I packed my mind with determination. This hike was steep. I mean really steep, I was pretty sure that I was walking at a 30 degree angle and it was tough. I can't talk while going up because the air was thinning, my heart was racing and my lungs were trying to keep up. So I had to tell myself more than once, "mind over matter" over and over again actually. We got to a point on the mountain where a few people decided to stop, they had reached their summit. One of the guides asked me "do you want to stop or do you want to keep going?" I responded with heavy breath and said, "I'm not sure yet, give me a minute to catch my breath". He said, "Well, how's your pride?". I looked out over Santiago and replied "My pride is doing good, but I'll give it some more". And up I went. At a few points I had to actually climb, to use my arm strength, my leg strength and by God, my mental strength. I realized it I could make it further, but I was slowing the guide down and I'd rather pace myself and stop here. I was proud of what I had accomplished. I had made it above the smog line and if you live in Santiago or have ever been here, to get to that clean of air, above the smog, it is an accomplishment.
And I turned around and started back down, on my own and filled with so much emotion actually of where I was and the place I stood. And I was able to look out onto the city and see the clouds parting, the sun making its way through and I smiled.
It took a few days for me to realize all that I had actually gotten out of that hike, other than some nice pictures and a seriously sore body. I realized the same thing can apply to my life here in Santiago. I can turn around and go back to where I came from any time I want. I can accomplish many things here and I can fail, but when I am ready to go back, on my own terms, then I need to be proud of what I have done. There is always a chance for failure and to even fall on my ass on the way up or the way down (which, yes, I did do on the hike), but I can pick myself up, dust myself off and keep going, whichever direction I want. I feel empowered about the fact that I have made this journey so far and I know I can walk with my head held high. So, I learned while hiking, as in with life, it is my life to make my decisions. Nobody said this journey would be easy and everyone told me that even considering it was worth something. Now I've come and I've made it 5000 miles, a few tears, some good laughs, 2 mountains, and so many new experiences…Onward and upward!
I packed my backpack full of water and peanuts and a sandwich and fruit and I packed my mind with determination. This hike was steep. I mean really steep, I was pretty sure that I was walking at a 30 degree angle and it was tough. I can't talk while going up because the air was thinning, my heart was racing and my lungs were trying to keep up. So I had to tell myself more than once, "mind over matter" over and over again actually. We got to a point on the mountain where a few people decided to stop, they had reached their summit. One of the guides asked me "do you want to stop or do you want to keep going?" I responded with heavy breath and said, "I'm not sure yet, give me a minute to catch my breath". He said, "Well, how's your pride?". I looked out over Santiago and replied "My pride is doing good, but I'll give it some more". And up I went. At a few points I had to actually climb, to use my arm strength, my leg strength and by God, my mental strength. I realized it I could make it further, but I was slowing the guide down and I'd rather pace myself and stop here. I was proud of what I had accomplished. I had made it above the smog line and if you live in Santiago or have ever been here, to get to that clean of air, above the smog, it is an accomplishment.
It took a few days for me to realize all that I had actually gotten out of that hike, other than some nice pictures and a seriously sore body. I realized the same thing can apply to my life here in Santiago. I can turn around and go back to where I came from any time I want. I can accomplish many things here and I can fail, but when I am ready to go back, on my own terms, then I need to be proud of what I have done. There is always a chance for failure and to even fall on my ass on the way up or the way down (which, yes, I did do on the hike), but I can pick myself up, dust myself off and keep going, whichever direction I want. I feel empowered about the fact that I have made this journey so far and I know I can walk with my head held high. So, I learned while hiking, as in with life, it is my life to make my decisions. Nobody said this journey would be easy and everyone told me that even considering it was worth something. Now I've come and I've made it 5000 miles, a few tears, some good laughs, 2 mountains, and so many new experiences…Onward and upward!
Sunday, May 6, 2012
You look worried
In the past month, I have heard "you looked worried" or "you look concerned" or "you look tired" more times than I have in the past 3 years. And, well, I am. I worry if the decisions I have made are the right ones. If I can pull off the impossible. If I leave will it be defeat? If I go, what will I do? Can I protect the team I have come to manage and adore? If I can meet expectations of those who hired me, those who wished me well to leave and of those who I respect.
When you come to a new place, a new job, a new city, a new country, a new culture, you make adjustments. Not just adjustments to belong in the new setting, but a chance to adjust to the new life you can make for yourself. I moved to Santiago for 3 reasons. Number one, was for my job. Number two, was to learn a new language. And number three, was an adventure. So clearly, I would look concerned. I work 12 hours a day, 5 days a week and I want to succeed. I still own my house in Houston and haven't found a person to rent it. So with my savings, I'm concerned. I want to be able to speak the language, to feel comfortable in the world of Spanish speakers and to hold conversations. I'm concerned that I can't. I'm concerned that I won't be able to accomplish the job I came to do here. I have lost sleep because I want to be succeed. I have started going out to bars more and staying out later and regressing in my maturity of "clubbing". So I sleep less, drink more, and get louder as the night progresses. So clearly, I look tired.
The worst of the comments, and while I am on this, why do people find it so okay to say comments about the expressions on someone's face, other than "you look happy" or "you look pretty" or "you look kind"? I feel like the only time I receive comments about my look is that of negative expressions. But I guess I am used to it, that's just the way I am perceived. Oh well. Back to my point, the worst of the comments is "you look worried". Now I am assuming people would rather look worried than tired, but the look of worry means there is something negative behind it. I gave up a life to come here. I gave up the comfort of seeing most of my family on a daily basis, of talking to them whenever I feel like it. I gave up the warmth of laughter with my friends whom I've had for years over a glass of wine, sitting in a pool, driving to a reunion or just texting to say hi. I gave up the daily expressions of excitement when I come home to my dogs who are now living with my parents in Texas. The reminder that no matter how happy, unhappy, hungover, sad or angry I am, I must get out and go for a walk, because that is the only thing (outside of being fed) that they request. I gave up my nieces' recitals, their birthday parties and the ease of getting to hear their laughter if I've had a rough day. I forfeited weekend trips to California to see my nephew and niece hunt easter eggs, or open presents on the hottest day of the year. I walked away from hugs from my dad and gentle looks of support from my mother. I did not give up my love life in Texas, so there's one point! Pro/con list, pro has 1. I traded these things in temporarily for adventure, success and of course, stories.
My look of worry is if I can make this work, if I can stick this out, if I made this trade off for failure. What will happen if I let go sooner than I expected? What will I do? Where will I go? Will the people I respect the most in this world, continue to respect me? Is it giving up if the chance to succeed was impossible? If I go back will I get in another rut? If I stay, will I risk the happiness I worked so hard to find within myself? I look worried, because every other day of my life in Santiago, I am worried.
Yesterday I had a blissful day sitting in the park with friends, enjoying a beautiful day and some good laughs. Today, I worried about what tomorrow will bring. I wish, one day, so very soon, someone will say to me "you look like you are at peace". Decisions are hard, follow through is trying and regret is a choice. I do not regret the things I have done, only those I have yet to do. I'm just a girl trying to make it in this world, and I pray that I will make it work the best way I can. And for you, may you spend today with security and tomorrow in peace.
When you come to a new place, a new job, a new city, a new country, a new culture, you make adjustments. Not just adjustments to belong in the new setting, but a chance to adjust to the new life you can make for yourself. I moved to Santiago for 3 reasons. Number one, was for my job. Number two, was to learn a new language. And number three, was an adventure. So clearly, I would look concerned. I work 12 hours a day, 5 days a week and I want to succeed. I still own my house in Houston and haven't found a person to rent it. So with my savings, I'm concerned. I want to be able to speak the language, to feel comfortable in the world of Spanish speakers and to hold conversations. I'm concerned that I can't. I'm concerned that I won't be able to accomplish the job I came to do here. I have lost sleep because I want to be succeed. I have started going out to bars more and staying out later and regressing in my maturity of "clubbing". So I sleep less, drink more, and get louder as the night progresses. So clearly, I look tired.
The worst of the comments, and while I am on this, why do people find it so okay to say comments about the expressions on someone's face, other than "you look happy" or "you look pretty" or "you look kind"? I feel like the only time I receive comments about my look is that of negative expressions. But I guess I am used to it, that's just the way I am perceived. Oh well. Back to my point, the worst of the comments is "you look worried". Now I am assuming people would rather look worried than tired, but the look of worry means there is something negative behind it. I gave up a life to come here. I gave up the comfort of seeing most of my family on a daily basis, of talking to them whenever I feel like it. I gave up the warmth of laughter with my friends whom I've had for years over a glass of wine, sitting in a pool, driving to a reunion or just texting to say hi. I gave up the daily expressions of excitement when I come home to my dogs who are now living with my parents in Texas. The reminder that no matter how happy, unhappy, hungover, sad or angry I am, I must get out and go for a walk, because that is the only thing (outside of being fed) that they request. I gave up my nieces' recitals, their birthday parties and the ease of getting to hear their laughter if I've had a rough day. I forfeited weekend trips to California to see my nephew and niece hunt easter eggs, or open presents on the hottest day of the year. I walked away from hugs from my dad and gentle looks of support from my mother. I did not give up my love life in Texas, so there's one point! Pro/con list, pro has 1. I traded these things in temporarily for adventure, success and of course, stories.
My look of worry is if I can make this work, if I can stick this out, if I made this trade off for failure. What will happen if I let go sooner than I expected? What will I do? Where will I go? Will the people I respect the most in this world, continue to respect me? Is it giving up if the chance to succeed was impossible? If I go back will I get in another rut? If I stay, will I risk the happiness I worked so hard to find within myself? I look worried, because every other day of my life in Santiago, I am worried.
Yesterday I had a blissful day sitting in the park with friends, enjoying a beautiful day and some good laughs. Today, I worried about what tomorrow will bring. I wish, one day, so very soon, someone will say to me "you look like you are at peace". Decisions are hard, follow through is trying and regret is a choice. I do not regret the things I have done, only those I have yet to do. I'm just a girl trying to make it in this world, and I pray that I will make it work the best way I can. And for you, may you spend today with security and tomorrow in peace.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
One of those a's with the circle around it
I just can't cut him off…I can't seem to let Georgia go. For those of you who need a reminder, here is the link to the last time I wrote about this simple southern boy from Georgia who never seems to completely disappear from my life. Well we had weekly phone conversations that didn't last too long, but eventually made a plan to make an effort to meet up. After all this time I hadn't laid eyes on him since 1998, he had twice nearly died and every couple of years asked his sister to look me up on the computer. Because his computer skills were a bit below par…simple southern man. He was a hard worker and dedicated to making things happen for him, all the while doing so without the use of a computer, google or storing phone numbers in his phone. Months went by and we started actually talking about meeting up. And then, without warning, poof…he disappeared from my life again. No trace left at all. I googled him, i called and left messages and nothing. I was certain he had been killed. I left little to mourn because I did not really know him, I just had this, thing, whatever you may call it with him.
Well, sure enough, 2 days before I left my job in Houston, he called me on my company cell phone. What are the odds? You may ask. With him, they are pretty good. He has a knack for this. My first question to him after about 8 months of silence was "Were you in jail?". His response was "No, I've just been workin'". and I wish, I wish with so much that you could hear the deep southern Georgia accent he says this with, as well as the, calm essence of unsure why I would even ask. We start up our conversations again, after i told him I would have to call him back as I was moving to South America a week later. Well we talked about two weeks ago and he asked me to send him pictures from Chile of what it looks like. I had to request him to get an email address, as I was not about to spend the money to send pictures through snail mail. He said "yea, I got one of them, I just gotta ask my sister what it is". Well, today I got it and to hear him give it to me was so sweet and unfortunately made me burst into laughter. He said it like this "(his initials and last name) an a with one of them circles around it period c-o-m". Why do i continue to talk to him? Because though he is older than me, his innocence in the world of the internet is almost indearing. Plus, you can pretty much guaranty he won't ever end up meeting Chris Harrison from Dateline on "to Catch a predator"…my bet is that he is harmless.
Ahhh, here I am in Santiago, Chile surrounded by beauty in nature and in men and I just had a 30 minute conversation with someone who without question, will always be a part of my life, whether or not I ever actually see him in person again. Life…it is a funny thing.
Do I have stories of being single in Santiago? Yes…are they juicy? In some circles…Will I share them here? Without a doubt…wait for them, they will come...
Well, sure enough, 2 days before I left my job in Houston, he called me on my company cell phone. What are the odds? You may ask. With him, they are pretty good. He has a knack for this. My first question to him after about 8 months of silence was "Were you in jail?". His response was "No, I've just been workin'". and I wish, I wish with so much that you could hear the deep southern Georgia accent he says this with, as well as the, calm essence of unsure why I would even ask. We start up our conversations again, after i told him I would have to call him back as I was moving to South America a week later. Well we talked about two weeks ago and he asked me to send him pictures from Chile of what it looks like. I had to request him to get an email address, as I was not about to spend the money to send pictures through snail mail. He said "yea, I got one of them, I just gotta ask my sister what it is". Well, today I got it and to hear him give it to me was so sweet and unfortunately made me burst into laughter. He said it like this "(his initials and last name) an a with one of them circles around it period c-o-m". Why do i continue to talk to him? Because though he is older than me, his innocence in the world of the internet is almost indearing. Plus, you can pretty much guaranty he won't ever end up meeting Chris Harrison from Dateline on "to Catch a predator"…my bet is that he is harmless.
Ahhh, here I am in Santiago, Chile surrounded by beauty in nature and in men and I just had a 30 minute conversation with someone who without question, will always be a part of my life, whether or not I ever actually see him in person again. Life…it is a funny thing.
Do I have stories of being single in Santiago? Yes…are they juicy? In some circles…Will I share them here? Without a doubt…wait for them, they will come...
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Chivalry...
I was raised to believe that a man should act like a gentleman in order to receive my attention and at the same time I was raised to be an independent and strong woman. It has many times brought me to so much confusion on how things are supposed to be. For example, I could be carrying three large boxes stacked on top of each other and each arm loaded with bags, and if a man offers to help me carry them (in the states), I am often surprised and then for some reason, I immediately refuse it. I have never understood why I refuse so much help except of course, if the help is offered by my dad. I am truly a daddy's girl and have called him when a large green bug flew into my apartment here in Santiago and when a mouse (or as described to my father a very large cat size rat) came into my apartment in New York and I fully expected for him to assess the situation and to do something about it. Of course he always laughs and tells me to, and I quote, "buck up", but my first instinct is to have dad take care of the situation. From bugs to money, he is the man I trust to handle the situations. And when it comes to my heart breaking, he is the only man I will call for words of comfort. My father is the epitome of a gentleman. Unfortunately, he is also the one who instilled so much confidence in me to be able to saunter off to Santiago, Chile site unseen and take on this crazy challenge.
The reason I bring this up is that this week alone, I have had 3 separate incidences that have both surprised me and made me think. The first being, well i should back track, i met a young fellow. We met on basically the expat version of online dating (I thought I was on it for networking…ha!). We met to go on a walk, I mean a real walk, sports bra and tennis shoes. He was interesting, young, super cute, ridiculously smart and really into himself. I appreciated the attention. Anyway, we met up again earlier this week, just briefly. I was riding my bike and we walked over to where he lives and i pushed my bike the whole time. When I locked my bike up, he stood there and watched. Never offering to help. When I was leaving he asked, and again, I quote "Do you know your way out?". I gasped at his audacity. I made him walk me out, and I have not heard from him again. Bless the young ones and their arrogant stupidity.
On Friday I went to lunch with a male colleague. We went and picked up sushi to go and he offered to carry my bag. And I thought it was strange and he said "this is what men are supposed to do, be gentleman". I have strange notions of a gentleman, I guess. I want a gentleman to open the door for me, guide me through a room, pay for dinner, care about what I am saying, but carrying my bags for some reason, I refuse to accept. It is the only thing that I have gotten offered in a way of help here and I trip over myself while trying to accept it. Literally, I tripped out of the place we got our food while I was trying to grasp why this nice guy wanted to carry something for me that in every aspect of it, I could carry myself. Later that afternoon I was leaving work and noticed a guy left before me and was standing there holding the gate open while I was getting my bike ready. I figured he was waiting for someone. When he stood there long enough and I was ready to walk out he said "You aren't used to gentleman in the states, are you? This is what we are supposed to do for ladies". Holy shit. Is it true? Am I too damned skeptical to recognize chivalry?
Last weekend I went on an 11 mile hike, one of the dumber things I have done in my 30s and the guide, a man in his 60s, bet me I couldn't make it to the top. And if I did, he would buy me lunch the next day at this nice restaurant. I'll be damned, if someone dares me to do something and is betting on the side that I can't (with the exception of jumping out of a plane or from a bridge with a stupid rope tied around my ankles to "save me"), then, I will do all in my power to prove them wrong. This also explains the eyebrow piercing I got in college and later removed because of my father's choice words in response to seeing it. Anyway, I may have walked like someone who had lost a race while riding the underbelly of a horse, but I did it. We went to lunch the following day and it was lovely. But when he invited me to lunch again this weekend I cowarded. Because I am too stupid to know if it is a nice invitation by a gentleman, or if I am unknowingly getting into a relationship with a man who may be older than my father. What would you do?
Chivalry…where does it start? Where does it end?
The reason I bring this up is that this week alone, I have had 3 separate incidences that have both surprised me and made me think. The first being, well i should back track, i met a young fellow. We met on basically the expat version of online dating (I thought I was on it for networking…ha!). We met to go on a walk, I mean a real walk, sports bra and tennis shoes. He was interesting, young, super cute, ridiculously smart and really into himself. I appreciated the attention. Anyway, we met up again earlier this week, just briefly. I was riding my bike and we walked over to where he lives and i pushed my bike the whole time. When I locked my bike up, he stood there and watched. Never offering to help. When I was leaving he asked, and again, I quote "Do you know your way out?". I gasped at his audacity. I made him walk me out, and I have not heard from him again. Bless the young ones and their arrogant stupidity.
On Friday I went to lunch with a male colleague. We went and picked up sushi to go and he offered to carry my bag. And I thought it was strange and he said "this is what men are supposed to do, be gentleman". I have strange notions of a gentleman, I guess. I want a gentleman to open the door for me, guide me through a room, pay for dinner, care about what I am saying, but carrying my bags for some reason, I refuse to accept. It is the only thing that I have gotten offered in a way of help here and I trip over myself while trying to accept it. Literally, I tripped out of the place we got our food while I was trying to grasp why this nice guy wanted to carry something for me that in every aspect of it, I could carry myself. Later that afternoon I was leaving work and noticed a guy left before me and was standing there holding the gate open while I was getting my bike ready. I figured he was waiting for someone. When he stood there long enough and I was ready to walk out he said "You aren't used to gentleman in the states, are you? This is what we are supposed to do for ladies". Holy shit. Is it true? Am I too damned skeptical to recognize chivalry?
Last weekend I went on an 11 mile hike, one of the dumber things I have done in my 30s and the guide, a man in his 60s, bet me I couldn't make it to the top. And if I did, he would buy me lunch the next day at this nice restaurant. I'll be damned, if someone dares me to do something and is betting on the side that I can't (with the exception of jumping out of a plane or from a bridge with a stupid rope tied around my ankles to "save me"), then, I will do all in my power to prove them wrong. This also explains the eyebrow piercing I got in college and later removed because of my father's choice words in response to seeing it. Anyway, I may have walked like someone who had lost a race while riding the underbelly of a horse, but I did it. We went to lunch the following day and it was lovely. But when he invited me to lunch again this weekend I cowarded. Because I am too stupid to know if it is a nice invitation by a gentleman, or if I am unknowingly getting into a relationship with a man who may be older than my father. What would you do?
Chivalry…where does it start? Where does it end?
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Go ahead and name your horse
I have had quite a week here in Santiago. Thursday night I was invited to join some colleagues for happy hour. I was chatting with two of my them about my move here and mentioned I would be moving my two dogs with me in a few months. Unfortunately during the conversation that followed I was informed that I have inadvertently named both of my dogs in Chilean slang, penis and vagina. When I said my dog's name, Tula, I was informed that means penis or a slang version thereof. When I told them the other one's name, Concho they literally fell out of their chairs from laughing. Now the technical word is concha because a vagina is feminine, however, I still have to come up with new names when I am out in public with them. I stick out enough as it is with my big blonde hair and my crappy spanish, now if I start yelling out "Tula, Concho" at the dog park it will probably land me in jail. Imagine being at your dog park and seeing someone yell after their dogs "Penis, Va-jay-jay"! That's what it would sound like, only in Spanish.
On Saturday I went horseback riding with a group of people through the Andes Mountains and was told I could name my horse whatever I wanted. After suffering the trauma of my naming capabilities, I stuck with the name "I don't know" and her colt "I don't knowita".
I thought stepping out of my comfort zone this week would be getting on a horse for the first time in 10 years, I was mistaken.
On Saturday I went horseback riding with a group of people through the Andes Mountains and was told I could name my horse whatever I wanted. After suffering the trauma of my naming capabilities, I stuck with the name "I don't know" and her colt "I don't knowita".
I thought stepping out of my comfort zone this week would be getting on a horse for the first time in 10 years, I was mistaken.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Home?
I am doing everything I can to make it feel like home here in Santiago. I've bought bedding for my new uncomfortable bed in my fully furnished apartment, I've gone to Bikram Yoga and sweated my way into serenity and like any good Episcopalian, I've found my favorite wine shop. Yesterday I finally got connected to the outside world at home by installing WiFi and cable. Now I can fill you in on my daily activities, but unfortunately none so far involve hot single latin men whispering sweet untranslatable nothings into my ears. There are a few reasons for that. One being that I haven't met any and another being that my ears by the end of each day are exhausted. Yep, my ears. I can actually feel them breath a sigh of relief when I get home from work when they no longer strain to understand not just Spanish, but Chilean Spanish, known here as Chileanisms...they have plenty of their isms.
In the south, we have a phrase when someone looks exhausted, beat up and ready to give up which is "You look rode hard and put up wet". The first time I heard this phrase, it was unfortunately directed at me, but it took me a few minutes of explanation to understand what it meant. For those of you blissfully unaware like I was 10 years ago, it is a metaphor to a horse who has been ridden all day and put back in the barn sweaty and exhausted and not hosed down. Imagine hearing phrases with similarity for all different metaphors for 12 hours a day. I try so hard to be a part of the conversations by nodding my head in aggreance or hiding my the look of WTF on my face, but let's be clear here, this is what goes on in my head when I am to be a listening to a meeting done completely in Spanish:
"What the f is he saying. Oh, he just said we need. What do we need? Man, he is talking so fast. Will I ever get this? My hearing blows. Oh, he just said for him to have something. What is that guy supposed to have? Oh wait, he's looking at me for a response. Nod, just nod. Okay, he must be done, he said claro, which loosely translates to of course, or right. Oh shit, now I have to respond." And aloud I say to the group "Mmm, hmm. Yes. Well, I actually didn't catch any of that except that we need something that he has". Disappointing looks and discussions of what I can assume of annoyance proceed to follow in Spanish.
I work a lot here, the work hours here put the states to shame. Show up at 8:30, leave by 8 only because the building needs to lock up. I had 3 blissful weeks without a work computer, blackberry or internet and that has taken a drastic change in the last 2 days...so much for don't bring your work home. But I have no complaints, this is why I moved here. However, I am going to make a strong effort to get myself out more on the weekends. I have met some wonderful people and a super fun/sweet friends who are also a couple have taken me in, under their wing since I moved here. But it has come to my conclusion that if I am going to get out to bars and meet strangers, then I have to buck up and get it done. I can't only rely on friends and ask them to take precious time away from their loved ones to drink in a seedy bar with me. Shoot, it doesn't even have to be seedy, but just the idea of having to approach people is about as daunting as interpreting a conversation done completely in Spanish. It wont be easy, but it is my challenge. I'm grateful I have friends here, they are super fun and so similar to the wonderful people I left back home, they help make me feel okay about being here and as strange as it may sound, it feels safe. I'm lucky, but I also realize that I find myself waiting for things to happen and depending on others to make them happen instead of making things happen myself.
I am 3 weeks in to this crazy adventure, but I'm about waist high in pressure to make it all happen for me. It is my goal to take it one day at a time, I will continue to fill you in on this journey... be patient, the stories of being single in Santiago are sure to be good!
In the south, we have a phrase when someone looks exhausted, beat up and ready to give up which is "You look rode hard and put up wet". The first time I heard this phrase, it was unfortunately directed at me, but it took me a few minutes of explanation to understand what it meant. For those of you blissfully unaware like I was 10 years ago, it is a metaphor to a horse who has been ridden all day and put back in the barn sweaty and exhausted and not hosed down. Imagine hearing phrases with similarity for all different metaphors for 12 hours a day. I try so hard to be a part of the conversations by nodding my head in aggreance or hiding my the look of WTF on my face, but let's be clear here, this is what goes on in my head when I am to be a listening to a meeting done completely in Spanish:
"What the f is he saying. Oh, he just said we need. What do we need? Man, he is talking so fast. Will I ever get this? My hearing blows. Oh, he just said for him to have something. What is that guy supposed to have? Oh wait, he's looking at me for a response. Nod, just nod. Okay, he must be done, he said claro, which loosely translates to of course, or right. Oh shit, now I have to respond." And aloud I say to the group "Mmm, hmm. Yes. Well, I actually didn't catch any of that except that we need something that he has". Disappointing looks and discussions of what I can assume of annoyance proceed to follow in Spanish.
I work a lot here, the work hours here put the states to shame. Show up at 8:30, leave by 8 only because the building needs to lock up. I had 3 blissful weeks without a work computer, blackberry or internet and that has taken a drastic change in the last 2 days...so much for don't bring your work home. But I have no complaints, this is why I moved here. However, I am going to make a strong effort to get myself out more on the weekends. I have met some wonderful people and a super fun/sweet friends who are also a couple have taken me in, under their wing since I moved here. But it has come to my conclusion that if I am going to get out to bars and meet strangers, then I have to buck up and get it done. I can't only rely on friends and ask them to take precious time away from their loved ones to drink in a seedy bar with me. Shoot, it doesn't even have to be seedy, but just the idea of having to approach people is about as daunting as interpreting a conversation done completely in Spanish. It wont be easy, but it is my challenge. I'm grateful I have friends here, they are super fun and so similar to the wonderful people I left back home, they help make me feel okay about being here and as strange as it may sound, it feels safe. I'm lucky, but I also realize that I find myself waiting for things to happen and depending on others to make them happen instead of making things happen myself.
I am 3 weeks in to this crazy adventure, but I'm about waist high in pressure to make it all happen for me. It is my goal to take it one day at a time, I will continue to fill you in on this journey... be patient, the stories of being single in Santiago are sure to be good!
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Beauty
So I'm going to take just a quick break on the blog from discussing the men of my life or lack there of and just tell you a bit about this new city of mine in which I now live. Last night I went to a barbeque at a colleague's house and to get there we drove through the mountains of Santiago. I kept busting out with "oh wow, oh wow" without any concern to who heard me. This is literally one of the most beautiful cities I have ever been too. I walked through the city today, it was so quiet and lovely. You could literally hear the wind blow. At night, you can see all the stars in the sky. But at the same time this is a highly metropolitan city of 6 million people and skyscrapers and developments. It is amazing. Literally, amazing. As i was walking about today I looked up then at a quick second glance, I realized I was staring at the Andes mountains. This city is built in the center of these gorgeous mountains. I have only been here a week, but I tell you, this is a place I hope you all get to mark on places you have traveled. My breath has been taken away. I'll post pictures soon
Okay, no worries, I'll write more about the beauty of being single in Santiago soon! Ciao
Okay, no worries, I'll write more about the beauty of being single in Santiago soon! Ciao
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Que Guapaaaaaaa
I was telling my friend in Santiago tonight about my "dry spell" of men just before I was making my decision to leave Houston to move here. Did me dating the only men who walked their cats on leashes or who learned the art of kissing by watching bad porn force me to leave Houston? No. But the fact that I wasn't pursuing a relationship with any of these guys, well, that may have been a reason that didn't stop me from coming. Being admired in the street, being bought a drink, having a stranger ask for my phone number, and getting a compliment in the office were not things I have received, for the sake of my own humility, recently. So when a colleague / new friend at work and I went to lunch on Tuesday told me that one of the guys in the office said I looked like a movie star, I may have tried to play it cool, but c'mon...I ate that shit up! When I asked which one and she said, "oh no, that is just like a saying they use for a pretty girl. Not that you actually look like one" I tucked my tail in between my legs and remembered exactly who I was. Seriously, all kidding aside...I totally look like Reese Witherspoon! So suck it guy who told me how "incredibly disappointed" he was that he wasn't attracted to me when he met me in person....I'm the next Jennifer Aniston...Am I taking it too far? Either way, a compliment is a compliment and it felt great!
Well, on Wednesday night I took myself for a stroll throughout Vitacura, the street I am living on in Santiago. I was standing at a stoplight and saw a guy from across the street who looked attractive with the sun behind him. As the walk light turned and we walked past each other, he said in his deep Santiago voice "Que Guapaaaa". Which means how beautiful. I played it cool, because that's what we ladies do, however, I completely ate it all up. After he couldn't see my face, I smiled, I got red and I think I started to sweat. I'm pretty sure I could get used to this, but I really need to start working on my cool face.
So far, Santiago is proving itself to be pretty good in the self esteem arena. Muchas gracias Santiago... suck it eharmony! :)
Well, on Wednesday night I took myself for a stroll throughout Vitacura, the street I am living on in Santiago. I was standing at a stoplight and saw a guy from across the street who looked attractive with the sun behind him. As the walk light turned and we walked past each other, he said in his deep Santiago voice "Que Guapaaaa". Which means how beautiful. I played it cool, because that's what we ladies do, however, I completely ate it all up. After he couldn't see my face, I smiled, I got red and I think I started to sweat. I'm pretty sure I could get used to this, but I really need to start working on my cool face.
So far, Santiago is proving itself to be pretty good in the self esteem arena. Muchas gracias Santiago... suck it eharmony! :)
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Arrive en Santiago!
Today I arrived in Santiago to start my new adventure and life in South America and in pure "me" fashion I did it...with incident. As I was paying my entry fee into Chile, I had a miscommunication with the agent and while he was asking me for my passport number to write on my receipt in English, I may add, I gave him my phone number. He laughed, got red in the face and couldn't finish his sentence of correction. This is only the beginning of my journey in Santiago...
As my niece would say, "oh brother...."
More to come friends, so much more.
signing,
Single in Santiago
As my niece would say, "oh brother...."
More to come friends, so much more.
signing,
Single in Santiago
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Single in Santiago
So here it is...here is the big announcement...I'm taking the blog and the dogs and we are moving to Santiago, Chile! Expect new stories of humor and self actualization as I wind my way through the streets of Santiago, the language of Spanish and the men of South America. I can only hope there will be at least one more Alessandro to give you more laughter and me great memories. Expect tales of wine and adventure and trials and tribulations and most of all, my way to find the humor in it all. The move happens in 2 weeks and the stories I assume will start to happen in 2 weeks and 1 day!
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