To set the scene, it was 9 a.m., I was in my cubicle, at my computer. Probably wondering if I should go downstairs for coffee or not. I heard my phone buzz and saw that I had a text message. From MM. “Yay, the gas is back on!”
Well, yippee kay yay, motherfucker, so glad to hear that.
A minute or so later, another text, again from MM. “I am sorry about this weekend and how I acted.”
Howdy doody, he’s sorry for being a douchebag. Wait, no, I can’t make that leap. I don’t know WHAT he is sorry for, as he wasn’t too clear about that.
See, I demand a lot (shocker, I know). While I don’t expect a gentleman friend to have the same emotional capacity that I have (which was developed after years of introspection and therapy and general misery), I do expect a man to be able to express, in basic terms, his feelings. Otherwise, why not just show up at my door with a bouquet of flowers that will no doubt make me sneeze? Ok, I guess I do expect a lot. But damn it, I want to know WHY he was a douchebag, even if he may not know why himself!
In other news, I e-mailed the motherfucker’s best friend’s wife to ask about her bariatric surgery. I really liked his friends. Too bad the motherfucker was such a, well, motherfucker.
I went to the dr this afternoon, to ‘fess up about my bad-patient ways. I stopped taking my thyroid meds in October. Just stopped taking ‘em. No good reason that I can recall. Since then, I’ve gained weight, I’m always cold (even when it’s not 50 degrees indoors lol) and I’m just generally feeling icky and low. Oh, my dr was not happy with Miss Monique. He was even less happy with the 50 lbs I’ve gained since June. Srsly, how is that even possible? Anyway, I wanted to get off my happy pills but no dice. I left with a 90-day scrip for my wellbutrin and lexapro plus my bc pills, along with a new scrip for synthyroid. Le sigh.
I also talked to the dr about my weight. He first suggested this local program that does meal replacements. I’m not really down with that. We talked about things and he wrote me a referral to a surgeon that does the lap-band procedure. Weight loss is slower and less than with gastric-bypass but it’s less invasive and the band can be removed if I ever decide I want a little Miss Monique. I am going to a seminar Thursday evening about the different kinds of bariatric surgeries, then I’ll talk to my parents about it since I’ll probably need my mommy to come stay with me for a few days.
As penance, I had to have blood drawn … mind you, the doctor and I just talked about the weight I had gained. It was 1:30 in the afternoon. And in all seriousness, he asked me if I had eaten yet. WTF? OF COURSE I’VE EATEN! That must have just ruled out checking my cholesterol because the bastard nurse still drew 3 vials worth of blood. No, I should be nice, she was very good. She found the vein on the first try and it was just a little pinprick feeling.
I told the doctor that while I may think of myself still being in my 20s, I am 33, and not getting any younger, you know? My dad is very overweight and at age 63, he is limited as to what he can do and I don’t want that to be my life. I don’t even care about wearing a bikini … I want to be able to hike 10 miles if I want to and wear cute clothes. Basically, I want to have an outside that matches how I see myself, if that makes sense.
MM the dickless wonder never did e-mail me back … apparently he thought his clever Jedi mind trick of ignoring the e-mail would work on me. Why, I don’t know. I don’t think I come across as someone who will tolerate shit like that. If he had manned up, admitted he was an ass and apologized, that would be one thing. But ignoring the past four days? Whatev!
Right after I sent MM that e-mail this morning, he IM’d me, all chipper and shit, calling me by a nickname and asking where my cube was so he could bring my umbrella to me.
As I sat with a dumbfounded expression on my face, staring at my monitor, he sent another message. He supposed that I didn’t want a personal visit, considering my e-mail.
Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot.
I replied, saying that I had no idea what was going on, that he hadn’t replied to my e-mail, that he was acting weird this weekend, and I hadn’t heard from him in days.
“What e-mail?”
Oh dear God.
He claimed to have not received the e-mail and asked to which account I sent it. G-mail, I told him. Hotmail is better, he said; I don’t have your hotmail, countered I. I forwarded the e-mail I wrote on Sunday to his work account … and haven’t heard a word from him since. This was at 9:30 a.m.
I cannot get out of town and to Michigan soon enough. Miss Monique needs to get her drink on and clear her head!!!!
Still no word from MM, so when I got to work this morning I sent him an e-mail that said, “My umbrella is in your car; pls leave it at the front desk so I can pick it up when I leave this evening.”
Unspoken message: I am done with you. Good bye. But you’re not keeping my umbrella, asshole.
In other news, Limo Guy sent me ANOTHER picture message overnight, this time of his face and torso. Apparently he’s realized that the ahem, other types of pictures he’s been sending haven’t done the trick. As if this will either. 
Harrumph. Men.
Yesterday afternoon, I got a text from MM telling me that I left my magazine and gloves at the house and he’d bring them to me at work. I thought about things for a while then sent him a short e-mail basically expressing my confusion and disappointment over how things went and said that it wasn’t how I envisioned the evening at all. Yeah, still waiting for a response to that one.
I did think of two odd things that happened at the house, both after we were in the bedroom. I took off my glasses and also my hoop earrings and put them on the one table in the room. In the morning, I got my glasses but could not find the earrings anywhere. They weren’t on the table, on the floor or underneath anything that I could see. That was weird.
The other thing happened while I was in bed, awake. I was lying on my back, listening to the chainsaw next to me, when twice I felt nearly full-body chills go down my body from my head to my ankles (but not my feet). It wasn’t like a shiver, just a sensation of feeling something cold. I figured one of the spirits was trying to make a move on me since MM wouldn’t. 
My night with MM at the haunted house was nothing like I expected.
Nothing.
We left work about 6, an hour later than I expected, because he had to finish running a report. We hit the road, stopped at BK for dinner for him and a diet Coke for me. Along the way, he got a call from a colleague, and MM mentioned me by name, which I took to be a good sign. It took us about 2 hours to get to the house. He had on a short-sleeved shirt and jeans, I was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, jeans and a jacket. For some reason, MM was warm. He had on the a/c. My teeth were chattering — I get cold easily. He did turn the heat on for me … and mentioned that the gas might be out at his house. I asked about the heat and he told me it was electric.
Well, when we got there, the house was fucking freezing. I mean, it was 50 degrees in there. The gas had been turned off the week before and oopsie, the heat was NOT electric. There were about 6 other people staying there, too, and we were all dying. MM called the gas company and of course they were closed, but he didn’t consider this to be worth a call to the emergency line. OMFG. He was in a tizzy, trying to get things fixed up; I asked if I could help and he said no so I went to look around upstairs. I got bored and came back down to try to calm him down and his car was gone. OMG.
At that point, I was furious. I was cold, my teeth were chattering and he just fucking took off without a word. I texted a few friends and within minutes I had three offers to come get me lol. By that point, he was back — he had gone out to buy duralogs for the fireplace. I thought that maybe things would get better. Ha.
Later on, we were all in the parlor and he took one look at me, bundled up, teeth chattering, and went to get me a couple of comforters to curl up in. They helped marginally; it was just that cold. He sat next to me on the loveseat but barely touched me. In fact, at times, he was leaning away from me while he was talking to the other people. I was already irritable and feeling like it didn’t even matter if I was there or not just made me grumpier.
A couple of the girls thought they had ghostly experiences, whatever. I could have cared less. Nothing happened to me. About 2:30, the women all decided to go home, since nothing was happening and it was so fucking cold. After they left, I thought, ok, we’re alone … but nope, he didn’t even try to kiss me. In fact, he gave me my pick of bedrooms. I looked at him, dumbfounded, and said that I wasn’t going to sleep alone in the house and he said, “Ok, but you have to promise to keep your hands to yourself.” He seemed serious and I just looked at him. Actually I wanted to throw something at him but didn’t.
We slept in the same bed, fully clothed, and again he told me to keep my hands to myself. By this point, I wanted to smother him with a pillow. We talked for a while then fell asleep; he woke up about 9:30 to use the restroom and when he came back, we talked for a while again then he fell back asleep. I knew Miss Sodapop would be coming soon to get me, so about 10:15, I ended up just getting up. I was downstairs for nearly FORTY MINUTES and he never came downstairs. I was sitting on the couch, watching for Soda and as soon as I saw the car, I opened the front door and grabbed my stuff. I was livid.
I sent MM a text saying “[Soda] picked me up. Have a good day.” after we had been on the road for 10-15 minutes. Never did receive a response. The way MM acted was so different from how he had been before, I didn’t — and still don’t — know what to think. I can understand things from his point of view, he was stressed about the house, he had 6 paying guests to entertain, not just me … but the fact that there was barely any physical contact between us really hurt my feelings. No kisses, no hand-holding, nothing. Yes, I was grumpy and fucking freezing and somewhat standoffish, but good God, it was really difficult to make pleasant conversation when my teeth were chattering!
Soda and I ended up having a really fun night last night; we went to the GA function then ended up going out with CBFI1, CBFI2, Soda’s friend GB, the creepy Indy guy and two other guys. We walked all over the fucking downtown area — I was in heels, tyvm — for seriously 30 minutes before ending up at this sing-a-long bar that we both found highly annoying. I had two beers, neither of which I paid for (score) and Soda was molested by a drunk lady at the next table. After we left there, we ended up at Jillians, where we got some food and Miss Soda drank $10 martinis. We talked about going out dancing but our energy was flagging and we were back at Chez Monique by 11.
I’ll let Miss Soda blog about CBFI1. He is an interesting one, that’s for sure.
As of now I am still bewildered and somewhat pissy re: MM. He was going to stay at the house until tomorrow morning — thank God I didn’t stay there two nights, like he wanted me too, although we would have had a huge fight by now I’m sure — if I hear from him tomorrow, whatever, you know? If I do, we are definitely going to have to talk about Friday night. He’s the one who asked me out again (on Wednesday) and it was his idea to for me to go to the house. Everything was fine on Friday and even in the car, not sure what happened. All I can think of is that our respective insecurities got in the way and we both thought the other was irritated and didn’t know how to deal with it. Or maybe he’s an inconsiderate ass and Friday night he showed his true colors.
Yay, dating.
I just got home a little while ago from meeting my friend M. at the Spaghetti Factory for dinner. Apparently Thursday is the night to go, as we didn’t have to wait at all. I PPH the pasta with mizrithra cheese and browned butter. Holy hell that’s good (and salty) eatin’.
Now I have to decide what to pack for my night at ye olde haunted house. Considering this trip isn’t about seduction, I’m bringing my Little Miss Sunshine pjs, which I think are quite adorable. For Saturday, I’m going to bring a long-sleeved purple t-shirt and I’ll probably just wear the same jeans that I wear tomorrow … which brings me to tomorrow. I need to be casual yet cute. Something I can wear around an old house and not look ridiculous in … I’ll probably just pull something out of the drawer tomorrow and wear whatever! Of course I need to bring my toiletries but not so many as to look incredibly high maintenance …
MM is convinced I’m going to get all freaked out and want to run away screaming. He may be right. He asked what I was going to do if I got scared in the middle of the night. I told him it would be his problem, as he’d have to listen to me whine and cry. He seemed ok with that. I can always pull the ol’ “oh big strong man, protect me” act … I shouldn’t mock. That’s just tempting fate! There’s no cable or internet at the house, as far as I know, so I hope I get cell reception so I can Twitter … surreptitiously, of course, so MM doesn’t wonder who I’m texting every 30 seconds!
I just talked to MM … we were originally thinking of doing something Sunday since he has (paying) guests at the house Friday and Saturday. Then he asked if I wanted to go to the house … I told him I couldn’t stay Saturday because Miss Sodapop is visiting (and he sounded disappointed … umm 48 hours together is a bit much for me!) but I’m going to ride down there with him after work Friday.
Now, Miss Sodapop and I already discussed this possibility so she is going to swing by and get me on her way to Indy on Saturday. That means she’ll get to see the house AND meet MM! Wheeeeee!
I’ll be taking lots of pictures … and Twittering if any freaky shit happens. Freaky ghost shit I mean. Any other kind of freaky shit, well, hell, I’ll probably tell you about that too! 
Oy what a long day … and it’s not even 3 p.m. As I mentioned in my last post, I fell asleep on the couch for about 90 minutes last night, awakening around 10 p.m. I think I was up until about 1 a.m. before I finally got some sleep. I just couldn’t get comfortable. I was too hot, too cold, too whatever.
MM wasn’t online yesterday at work and I hadn’t heard from him. I was going to call last night but chickened out. Why? Who knows. There is that fear of rejection my crazy old therapist used to mention, lol. Anyway I’m kind of glad I didn’t call because it turns out he was home sick and was actually sleeping at the time I thought about calling. It’s only been a few days since I’ve seen him but I miss him. I know, I’m a dork.
I have barely received any e-mails today, work-related or not. I swear everyone is on vacation except for me …
Or at least you’d think so, thanks to the wonderful template Miss J designed for me. I luff it!
I voted this morning in a special Congressional election and it took longer to discuss my “good Irish name” with one of the election workers than it did to vote, mainly because the ballot consisted of one oval I had to fill in with a pen. Then I folded the ballot up a few times and put it in a box. I felt like I was voting for the homecoming court! When I left, I chatted with three people from Planned Parenthood and signed their petition. The guy I talked to was cute but I’d have to think chances are slim of meeting a straight, available man volunteering for that organization …
I conked out on the couch for about 90 minutes tonight. Ugh. I need to stop doing that!
