Hollywood Lies

Friday was my last day as a regularly-employed nanny. Can I get a what WHAT?! No more will I have to be threatened with bodily harm by an 8-year-old. No longer will I be blamed for things that are in no way, shape, or form my fault. No longer will I be treated like a servant and be expected to clean up after an entire family. Needless to say, it was time to celebrate.

I went out with McNerdy and my roommate for food and pitchers of cheap beer. We had a fantastic time getting drunk and me ranting about the problems of children being in therapy. Then we decided to move on to another spot for a nightcap. For the first time in ages, I returned to the scene of the crime. The same tiny bar where the cute neighbor told me he didn't want to be just my fake boyfriend anymore, and where I pushed Fenella into the bathroom and held her hostage while I peed and told her what had just happened and after which I went running across the street to knock on the cute neighbor's door at 2am for a film-worthy passionate kiss. And then I got really sad.

I was sad because according to the movies, that was the beginning of our happily ever after. In Two Weeks Notice, Sandra Bullock went running down the street after Hugh Grant for the same passionate kiss. In Notting Hill, Hugh Grant went racing all over London to find Julia Roberts and tell her he had been a "daft prick" and win her back. In Love Actually, Prime Minister Hugh Grant went door-to-door looking for Natalie, before also ending things in a passionate kiss at the school Christmas show. And then they all lived happily ever after. It was very easy. They didn't have geography to deal with; one half of the couple didn't move to one side of the world for work while the other went to the other side of the world for grad school. They were all very successful and the economy was booming, and they just chose to live happily ever after and never had to deal with these kinds of issues.

This tells me one thing: Hugh Grant is a liar. In real life, even if you have a Hollywood ending as a beginning, that doesn't mean you won't be searching for solutions to find the time and money to see your significant other before you leave the country. It doesn't guarantee you'll be together every Saturday night until the end of time. And my missing him that much caused me to have a dream last night where he spontaneously decided to come visit, let himself into my house, then my bedroom, and then my bed while I was sleeping. And then a lizard walked across my bedroom floor on its hands. (Do lizards even have hands?!)

Lies! They are all lies! I don't want to be Will and Viola from Shakespeare in Love, with a heartbreaking, inter-continental separation and forced marriage to an alarmingly un-charming Colin Firth with a stupid dangly earring! I want to be George and Lucy from Two Weeks' Notice, with witty banter and our own helicopter.

It's devastating to learn that my favorite romantic comedies are all lies. Maybe that's the next thing Grayer and I should put on our list of money-making schemes: Realistic romantic comedy. Or pick up where the movie left off to include arguments, complications, and infertility. I think there would be a huge demographic ready for that.

And on a separate note, this is the last in my series of "I'm so sad I miss the cute neighbor" posts. I think I've had sufficient enough time to move on to something funnier and more positive. I promise. Thanks for bearing with me.

The Funk

I'm in a funk. Ever since the cute neighbor left, my weekends have been awfully exciting (insert sarcastic face). Now, I realize that even with the cute neighbor, my weekends weren't always totally hip and happening (as we sometimes stayed in to watch baseball and listened to NPR in the mornings), but at least there was sex involved. And cuddling. This weekend, however, was just plain sad.

Friday night. I pick up a Whole Foods dinner on my way home from work, and am a bit too excited to be listening to a local radio station's Big 90s Weekend. I'm a huge fan of their playing nothing but 90s music on the weekends, as it reminds me of my coming of age. It also makes me feel old. At home, I sit on the couch and eat said Whole Foods dinner while watching my latest addiction: America's Got Talent. I know what you're thinking: LAME! But before you go judging me for watching it, watch these cuties, who are the cutest things I've ever seen. And Nick Cannon is way cooler than Ryan Seacrest, although I have to look away for the really bad auditions. At least on Idol, the bad ones are only in front of three judges, as opposed to an auditorium full of people. I kept bursting into tears all evening, which I told myself was because of the emotions of watching these people realize their dreams, but was in reality about something else entirely. And that was Friday night.

On Saturday, I was awake way too early, did some pilates, watched some tv, got my car detailed in preparation to sell it, and looked into moving vehicles. Around 4 or 5 pm, my boss called to see if there was any way I could baby-sit that night. Sadly, I had absolutely no other plans, so I agreed, but only because it would be late enough that the kids would be sleeping the whole time I was there. I got a lot of reading done. At 11pm, she called to see if I could stay for another hour. No, that's not a problem at all, I told her. I have only an empty bed and a cat who pulls out his own hair to go home to. All I wanted to do was go home and cuddle with the cute neighbor, but that wasn't an option.

I realize that I could have called somebody up to hang out, but I just didn't want to. I really couldn't think of anybody I felt like hanging out with that was actually within driving distance. This is something that I have simply got to snap out of; I can't feel sorry for myself. It could be a lot worse.

I was a bit better today. I went to the pool with some friends, and I'm hanging out with Rebecca this evening for a movie and take-out. I need to force myself out of this funk. Otherwise, there will be a lot of long, lonely weekends in my future.

All By Myself

Would the last person still in Atlanta this week please call me?

The cute neighbor: out of town. My roommate: out of town. Rebecca: out of town. (Ok, not too upset about that one, but she is someone I would have gone out for a drink with.) McNerdy: Soon to be out of town. Me: All alone. But at least I have the cat to keep me company.

With both the cute neighbor and my roommate gone for at least a week (the cute neighbor longer), it is awfully quiet around here. Too quiet. I've been dreading this week for at least a month, and have been working very hard to fill up my social calendar so as not to go crazy. If Fen were here, I would look at it as an opportunity for us to watch rom-coms and eat pistachio ice cream. But she's not.

It did occur to me yesterday that I have gone extended periods of time with neither a boyfriend or a roommate, so what's the big deal? The big deal is that during those periods, I had a full-time job. I'd get home at 6pm or so and go to the gym and make myself dinner, and by that time, it was time to watch Grey's Anatomy or Lost. This time, however, I'm not working a whole lot. Only 3-5 hours a day. That leaves 20 hours to fill. And that's a whole lotta Violet time. As it stands, by the time the cute neighbor gets home from work, I've had hours of alone time, while he is need of his own time to decompress. My desperate need for human interaction at that point isn't exactly helping things.

All by myself..... Don't wanna be, all by myself... any MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRE
(*kicks the air, swigs wine).

I've done a pretty decent job of filling up the social calendar for the week, and hopefully it will involve crashing a wedding next weekend. I'm hoping to begin volunteering soon (as soon as my background checks have cleared) and with any luck, I'll have a job interview or two to attend this week or next. But if any plans fall through, I have a book to back me up: Gone with the Wind. All 1,037 pages of it.

Lloyd, I'm ready to be heartbroken

It's over....

For some time now I've known (and you've known) that it was just a matter of time before things with MM would end. Before he left for his business trip, it was fun. Even though I wasn't always happy with where things were going, I always laughed and had a good time when I was with him. The relationship hadn't fully run it's course. I felt like I needed to see it through to the end. (I mean you don't stop reading a good book three fourths of the way though, right?) On top of that, with how awful my job has been, I needed MM. We had become codependent, much like Violet and I. When I was having a bad day at work, I could text or email him and he would be supportive and cheer me up.

Well, after talking consistently while he was gone, MM returned from his business trip last week. I knew from the tone of his emails over the last few weeks, things weren't going to be the same when he returned. We hung out and conversation was easy and pretty much the same as always. Despite this everything was all wrong. We couldn't return to the carefree summer months anymore than I could turn off my feelings. I had missed him so much over the month and a half that he was gone. I wanted to cuddle. I wanted a distraction from my issues at work. I wanted some action and I could tell I wasn't going to get it.

After this I started trying to wean myself off of him somewhat. I wasn't going to be a needy girl. I saw him one more time last Sunday. We went to the movies and dinner. The movie was awful. It seemed even more strained than the last time. I think I needed this to really start letting go and move on. He kissed me goodnight, but it wasn't a passionate kiss. More out of habit than anything else. If I had to sum it up in one word, it would be disinterested.

I really thought that I'd accepted that the end was here but, after a gut wrenching bout of food poisoning, here I sit feeling sorry for myself because I have no plans this weekend and I haven't heard from MM since Sunday. I'm listening to "Lloyd, I'm ready to be heartbroken" by Camera Obscura and thinking "Is anyone ever REALLY ready to be heartbroken?" I really miss what MM and I had. I miss how easy it was to be with him. I miss our friendship. I scanned the online dating websites and didn't see anyone that I was even vaguely interested in. I'm honestly terrified that it will be years before I find someone that I'm into as much as I was into MM.

Of course itunes conveniently followed that song up with Carly Simons' version of "In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning." You may remember it from Sleepless in Seattle.

When your lonely heart has learned its lesson

You'd be his if only he'd call

In the wee small hours of the morning

That's the time you miss him most of all

At least Carrie Underwood cut me a break with the next song "The More Boys I meet the more I love my dog." I couldn't agree more. So tomorrow I'll pick myself up, brush myself off, and take my dog for a long rejuvenating walk at the park. Maybe she will pick up a hot guy for me?