Post-V-Day

This year, post-Valentine’s Day, is more difficult than the actual Valentine’s Day. Last night, I had a great time seeing a friend in the Vagina Monologues, a roaring, necessary dramatic dialogue in feminism. Following, there was late dinner and hanging out with she and her roommates. It was a fun diversion.

In the back of my mind, however, was “William”. Remember the significantly older guy? He and I have been texting more and more, and have talked on the phone twice for more than two hours. Of course, I see him frequently, as always, in the coffee house. I told him it would be nice to hangout before I left for camp (more on that later). I texted him last night about a park he mentioned for us to visit, because I was an hour early to the show, and was going to research the park on my phone while I waited.

He still hasn’t texted me back. Even last night my thoughts became rowdy, thinking that “he got some” last night (without me, ha!), and now, with the morning after here, I can’t help but wonder more.

So I’m trying to forget him. Shove him out of my mind entirely. ‘Tis my defense mechanism when potential romantic relationships begin to sour, then rot, in my mouth. Now insecurity threatens, despite this defense. I see the Facebook posts of ever-happy people gushing about their Valentines. They all have a right to gush. I want to say I’m happy for them.

I look forward to camp, my new job starting on the 26th. I’ll be teaching kids about nature, and it’ll be a much more brain-stimulating, life-propelling job than the coffee house. I’ll move away from the coffee house, at least for three months, and live in the camp staff house, about two hours away. Then I begin summer classes in Russian.

I am strong enough to maintain peace during my singleness. I must not doubt that, or I will falter. I will continue to pop Prozac and pray that the diversions continue.

 

Let the diversions continue. Please, Lord, have mercy, and allow the diversions to continue.

Please: I want to be joyful within myself, by myself, at last.

Quick Update on My Older Man Interest

He said he was honored by my note! =D

Bad Patient with Good Intent

About four or five days ago, I stopped my Zoloft cold-turkey. About two days ago, I started my own business as an independent consultant for Scentsy. Yesterday, I slipped my number into a significantly older man’s coffee warmer sleeve. 

In retrospect, I’ve been progressing quickly in life recently, and I hope it’s a good thing.

I’ll start with the psych meds: 

I was not tolerating the oversleeping anymore. Today I met with my psychiatric nurse, and she understood, having been a bad patient herself, and prescribed a low dose of Prozac, which should also help with my death-trap menstrual periods. This feels like a better fit, as Prozac is supposed to be less sleep inducing, being close equivalent with some of the lowest doses of Zoloft. 

On to Scentsy: 

A friend sells this adorable product line of scent holders and scents, including plush animal scent holders. The owl is too cute. She got me looped in without effort, because I see an opportunity to make extra cash to help me vacate my parents’ home and move into an apartment. A mutual friend of the Scentsy friend was sipping coffee with us the night I decided to join. She works for an apartment complex that rents cheap studios, utilities included. My meeting with them suddenly caused me to think that my life will soon sort out. 

It will. But I still have a little anxiety about investing in Scentsy. Will I be disciplined enough to sell enough to make enough? Will I make enough to land an apartment? Could I soon quit my job at the coffee house? 

The coffee house, where I gave a man nearly my dad’s age my number. 

He’s not someone I just met; William (we’ll call him that for now) and I have chatted several times when he comes in for his coffee. His gentle spirit draws me to him. I need that in my life. Additionally, he’s a spiritual intellectual like me. And oh the feels I feel when I see him nowadays. I realized about a month ago that I like him, and it was sudden, as I was talking to him across the counter.

It was difficult to give him my number, written on a guest check, with the following above my name: “Let’s talk physics, philosophy, and spirituality sometime. =)” I figure this was not too imposing. Two friends I work with know, and encouraged me all along. However, I didn’t serve him when he came in yesterday, as I was serving someone else. Plus, he was sitting with a guy he was studying something with, and I couldn’t just approach the table, slide the half-folded paper on the table slowly, then dash off with a giggle. Instead of his regular coffee, he bought a tea instead, anyway. However, before I dumped the decaf for the night, I asked if he’d want some. One of my coworkers went to ask, but I poured anyway after scrambling to place the note in the sleeve. 

He came to the counter before leaving, asking, “Is this for now or later?”

“Whenever,” I said while cleaning pots, turning to grin to myself.

The call hasn’t come yet, but I work tonight, and he’s likely to drop in. 

He’s much older than me, and I have had to smash my anxiety with rejection from him or high disapproval from my parents. But I’m attracted to him. If it becomes clear I’m compatible with this man, his age will not be an issue to me. Will my age be an issue to him? 

Will I be able to sort out the above possibilities, and other things I haven’t mentioned and don’t want to bore you with?

Ah, sweet mystery of this recent accelerated life!