On the Subject of Prissy Princesses

Sometimes I feel a bit angry or defeated. Even though I went to a wonderful school and had phenomenally amazing classmates, from time to time, there are a small handful of classmates who stick out in my mind. At times, I find I compare myself to that small handful of wide-eyed, pretty-faced, flimsy framed, high pitched, little flibbity girls that ended up with the career I wanted. Those same Prissy Princess Girls also ended up with gorgeous boyfriends and husbands. They have what I thought I wanted: the perfect career and the perfect man. So while I now strive to get my career where I want it to be, a Schmooie wanna-be called Shy Boy has been pursuing me. He’s cute, but not gorgeous on the outside, (not what I grew up picturing “gorgeous” to be). He is a good guy, a great guy actually, on the inside. Still, there have been times where after all these years, I feel I’m comparing myself to those Prissy Princess Girls I once knew. What’s the point in that? I have no idea. Shy Boy will coo and say the sweetest things to me, which only makes me giggle, blush, and look away. He wants to know what guy in the past hurt my self-esteem so badly. Truth is, it was no guy who did that to me. I’d never let an idiot guy hurt my opinion of myself. It was the same sex, those Prissy Princess females, which made (and make) me wonder if I’m doing something wrong.

The thing to remember is that a pretty package may have a nasty surprise. Those so called handsome guys the Prissy Princesses ended up with probably have a lot wrong with them to end up with such catty little women. But still, it infuriates me to no end that the Prissy Princesses always appear to win. Those Prissy Princesses got the career I wanted. Why shouldn’t they get the perfect Prince for their perfect Stepford lives? I guess I should keep in mind that the greatest talent of a Prissy Princess is in keeping up appearances. Those so called handsome guys might be real duds when not being told what to do by their Prissy Princesses. Shy Boy knows how to be romantic without being told. He goes out of his way to do something for me before I even ask. He knows how to touch my skin in a way that makes me happy. He’s thoughtful, considerate, and protective. He’s never demanding and he’s always sincere. He can say gooey things and mean it without wanting any “special favors” in return. On top of that, he’s a great kisser and he’s intelligent. He truly loves me and it shows in his kisses and in his actions. That should outweigh the negative things. Things such as: he’s starting to bald; he’s a bit cross eyed; he’s overly apologetic at times; he’s overly gentle to the point of infuriating; he’s very quiet unless the subject is music or movies; sometimes he acts like he’s not quite aware of the things around him when he’s walking down a street; he act and looks far more mature than his age; he has no music or artistic ability; he’s fun loving but sometimes I have to come up with the ideas first.

He’s not someone you’ll instantly look at and need to sit down. He’s not someone you’ll talk to for a few minutes and need to sit down. He’s not instantly charming physically or socially is what I mean to say. Indeed, he’s not the type of guy I ever pictured myself with.

Meanwhile, is it possible the the Stepford boyfriends and husbands of those Prissy Princesses look perfect on the outside and act perfect socially, but have no abilities at home to do the same? Shy Boy needs no coaxing or training on how to be a man towards me. I bet most of those good looking Stepford boyfriends and husbands don’t offer a foot rub or back rub out of the blue. They don’t come over and wrap their arms around their Prissy Princess while she’s doing her hair just because they treasure her. They don’t stop whatever it is that they’re doing just to gaze at their Prissy Princess. They don’t bother to call despite being exhausted from a long work day just to say hello. For all I know, they probably take their Prissy Princess for granted. And who could blame them? They were the ones idiotic enough to fall for the Prissy Princess. Perhaps, while those particular girls are busy sniveling along, seemingly getting their way in almost everything they do, it’s all an act. And you know what? Maybe I am the true Queen Bee.  

Meeting of the Mothers

This weekend, Shy Boy’s mother came to town. You see, in case that sentence didn’t make sense, Shy Boy’s mother lives several states away. Of course, I had already met her at the wedding, but I didn’t have much time to talk to her at that point because she was so busy helping her other son get married. I was pleasantly surprised by the events of this past weekend. The way Shy Boy presented it to me, I was ready for a long weekend of interrogations about my intentions with her son. I was ready for a meeting of the mothers where each sizes the other one up and draws up a dowry, in spite of the fact that he and I have only known each other for a little over three months. (The anticipation and apprehension for something being taken far too seriously than it should be would explain my anger toward Shy Boy and Jewish mothers in general in my last blog post.) In reality, Shy Boy’s mother felt bad that she hadn’t spent much time with him during the wedding weekend, and since he had some availability in his work schedule, she wanted to come see him. She had also heard great things about my family, particularly my mother, and wanted to meet her. We got together with her three times during the weekend, each day spent full of eating and shopping. The mothers instantly hit it off. I am a bit jealous of his mom. She worries about her son like any mother, but she seems to be so encouraging and just wants her son to be happy, even if his vision of happiness differs from her own. My mother is a great mother, but she’s more pessimistic and wants things her way when it comes to raising her children and how her children should live their lives. Shy Boy’s mother didn’t care that I want to go back to my beloved state out West. She wasn’t pushy. I was worried one Jewish mother might try to dominate the other, but they actually got along quite well. Both had a lot to talk about, and most of their conversations had nothing to do with Shy Boy or myself. I’m a bit odd about being too physical with Shy Boy when my mom is around. Even something as innocent as hand holding makes me nervous in front of my mother. He respected that, as he always does. This weekend, I felt more comfortable with touching him and having him kiss me goodbye in front of my mother. I still haven’t fallen for him. But I do feel more attached to him. I’m not in love with him and I’m not sure what it’s going to take to actually “fall in love.” (Besides, why should it be him out of anyone that I “fall in love with” anyway?) But I do love him. I feel much freer now that the mothers know each other and no one’s forcing us to do anything. I just enjoy Shy Boy’s company. I’m glad and hopeful that that’s good enough for now.  

The Great-on-Paper Guy

So I spent quite some time writing up a blog entry about how the wedding went, how much fun we had, that we got closer physically (nothing sexual of course because Shy Boy’s a gentleman). But I’m not gonna lie. I’ve decided not to post it. There’s a good reason behind it that has nothing to do with privacy. Since the wedding occurred two weeks ago, I’ve been to his apartment for the first time. I’ve seen him happy and I’ve seen him bored. I’ve been to NYC with him. All the while, love has grown deeper for him and kept lukewarm for me. Every time I think love might start to simmer in me, it fizzles away again. When I read a string of e-mails between one of my friends and me during the past two to three weeks, there is an interesting rise and fall in emotions. Immediately after the wedding, I was still giddy and almost felt myself falling for Shy Boy. Last week, I could go either way but I was still leaning more toward liking him. Over the past few days, I’ve gone completely neutral.  I’ve even wrote a follow-up blog post to the wedding discussing my disdain for him, but it's not worth posting. Instead, I'm writing this post now. Some days I think he’s a great guy, other days I’m perfectly happy without him. Shy Boy is The Great-on-Paper Guy. Why is he great-on-paper but not in real life? I still can’t quite figure it out myself. He’s chivalrous, a gentleman, kind, thoughtful, worships me. But he’s old fashioned, like everything is to me on the East Coast. He’s willing to come to my beloved city in the West, but I don’t think he’d like it. He looks and acts much older than his age. He’s shy, sensitive, and somewhat timid. He’s so gentle it’s irritating. I don’t want to be the one in the relationship with the balls or testosterone! How is it possible that he treats me like a lady and can protect me on the streets of New York while all the while being so shy and sensitive?  There’s something, something I can’t describe and can’t pinpoint that’s missing. And that thing that’s missing is the great wall that keeps me from falling in love with him. He tells me he’ll do whatever makes me happy. He says all he wants is to be loved and have someone love him. But deep down I know he wants a serious relationship. At the same time, I can't bring myself to tell him, to break his heart, that I don't think I'm ever going to love him. Then again, I should keep in mind we haven’t even known each other for that long. In all actuality, it’s only been three months.

In true parent-child fashion, I want to blame our pushy Jewish mothers who think we belong together just because we’re of “a certain age” and have not found someone yet, as the reason why I can’t love him. For crying out loud, we’re not that old and even if we were, we have to find our own way to be happy. Maybe I just don’t want to get married and have children. Maybe the more society forces it on me and the deeper in love he tells me he is; the more I want to run away from him. Then I get to thinking of those lonely nights in my beloved state back West. The nights I cried because I didn’t have a boyfriend. The nights I prayed for a boyfriend to no avail. Now, I find myself thinking that I can do better than him. I don’t know how, it’s probably an immature naïve thing to even be thinking of. My expectations are probably far too high. I’m looking for bigger, better, best. Maybe I love a state out West more than I could ever love him, even if he did come out there to be with me. All I know is, I like him as a boyfriend and I wish people would leave it at that, including him.

Make-out with Schmooie Wanna-Be

We tried a new place to eat. It was our 10^th outing. Shy Boy surprised me with flowers. He said he did it just because he wanted to. I was taken aback. After dinner, we went for a walk on a warm late summer evening that felt far more romantic than it normally would have the day before or the day after. Before leaving, I gave him a kiss to thank him. We broke out into several nice little kisses and a long embrace. He kept whispering “I love you.” I can’t bring myself to say those words. I’m not sure yet how I feel about him even though I do like him a lot.

The following week, we went to our old hang-out. He was going to be away that weekend and wanted to see me before he left.   After we ate, it was still early and a bit chilly outside. We walked around town. He held my hand, and acted very manly and protective when we had to cross the busy streets. We eventually found our way back to my car, which was parked in a very dark area behind the restaurant. We kissed a little and he just kept holding me. I stood there, holding onto him, listening to his heartbeat. He was obviously happy. But that nagging feeling came back to me. I didn’t love him the way he loved me. I wasn’t feeling anywhere the same emotions he felt for me. It was actually a bit infuriating because I wanted so much to feel the same way. Most importantly, he is so kind and so sweet to me that I don’t want to hurt him.

Flash-forward a few days later, and we’ve been in contact over e-mail. We’re developing more and more of a sort of teenaged romance and we both kind of like it that way, sweet and silly and peppered with innuendo. I’ve been in contact with many of my guy friends asking them for advice on the situation. Now I’m getting in over my head where I can’t just cut bait without hurting him, but oddly enough, I don’t want to cut bait either. They’ve told me that as long as he and I are in agreement on our relationship, we can just enjoy each other’s company and see how things go. It doesn’t have to lead to a great romance. We could just be filling in a void in each other’s lives and what’s so bad about that? 

Now there’s a wedding this weekend that he and I will be attending. Stay tuned for an entry on how that shindig will turn out.

Schmooie Wanna-be Meets Da Mama

After Shy Boy’s romantic e-mail about wanting to be more mushy, I decided to just go with it. Something about what he wrote did melt my heart a bit. While I stupidly didn’t tell him that I wasn’t sure I had the same feeling for him that he had for me, I did level with him that I would be returning to my beloved state out West. And he was okay with that. He wanted to pursue a long distance relationship if I was interested. Meanwhile, my mama was getting antsy to meet him. A good Jewish mother has got to be nosey. So I decided it’d be okay to invite him to my mother’s birthday party. He agreed to go. I told him what to wear and how to look. Still, he showed up in the wrong outfit. This was Shy Boy and myself’s first outing since deciding to be more romantic in public. When we got to the restaurant, he was already at the door waiting. I introduced everybody. Then my mom, my sister, and their friends followed the waiter to our table. Sensing my nervousness over this whole meeting, Shy Boy lagged behind to put an arm around me and kiss me on the head. My mom and her friends enjoyed talking to him. My sister was less thrilled. He was doing very well. He even brought presents. I was beginning to feel proud of him. My mom and sister’s friends wanted to go dancing afterward. We went to a hotel where a band was performing some really great tunes. On the way to the hotel, my mom did the driving while Shy Boy and I sat in the back. Things were going very well, and I felt a sudden interest in holding his hand. So I passed him my hand, and he took hold of it. The highlight of the evening was when my mom forced him to dance. The other highlight was holding hands on the way home and stealing some quick little kisses in the back of the car. I didn’t want it to be too obvious what we were doing. After all, my mom was only a few feet away doing the driving. Shy Boy and I have developed a very teenaged relationship, sort of secretive, all the while being very innocent and sweet. We seem to like it that way. And I just hope we can remain on the same page as the other about where our relationship should go.

Schmooie, Where Have I Been?

I’ve decided to just go ahead and talk more about the Schmooie wanna-be mentioned in the previous post. Since I’ve been spending time with the family back East, there hasn’t been much excitement going on other than hanging out with Shy Boy Schmooie. I’ve been on several outings with Shy Boy. We went to visit my old school. We’ve been to a whole bunch of restaurants. We’ve been to the movies. All those places people go to hang out. By the fifth outing, he wanted a kiss, but I wasn’t going to give one. I wasn't shy. I wasn't playing hard to get. I liked him very much, but I wasn’t as crazy about him as he was of me. He gave me a kiss on the cheek at the beginning and at the end of the outing. He had a great deal in common with me. We come very similar religious and political backgrounds. He liked all the same cultural things I dug. But something was missing. He felt too familiar, like a relative more than a potential boyfriend. But I decided to keep hanging out with him because I enjoyed his company, and he wasn’t asking for too much in return. He was new to the area and needed to get to know people. He had a difficult time making friends.

He always came with his hair gelled back, making him look much older and balder than he really was. On the sixth outing, he surprised me by showing up with no gel in his hair. He said he didn’t have time to put any on that day. It was a marked improvement. Finally, instead of looking 30 years older than what he really was, he looked like a dude his actual age. The hair looked a lot cuter and cleaner without silly gels. I felt oddly more attracted to him than I did before. Maybe it was the fact that I complimented him a lot on the new look, but for whatever reason, he was acting more manly. The thing that held (and still holds) me back was the familiarity. I couldn’t (and can’t) seem to feel as attracted to him as he is to me. We ended the date, and he wanted a kiss very badly. It was obvious. Perhaps encouraged by the compliments and his new surge of manliness, he went ahead and kissed me. He got the corner of my mouth rather than the full lip because I inadvertently moved my head as he went in.

We soon found a particular restaurant that has become our hangout spot. If we can’t think of anywhere else to go, this particular place is where we end up craving. After eating there that night, he kissed me full on the lips in the parking lot. It was a very sweet, nice little kiss. I didn’t feel sparks or fireworks though. The fact that I would soon be going back to my beloved home out West also held me back. Still, I really liked hanging around him. I found him fun to talk and the more I got to know him, the more he opened up. Soon, he invited me to a wedding of one of his close relatives. He didn’t need a date, but he wanted one, and he wanted me to be the one. After hearing about the wedding for all the weeks that I’d known Shy Boy, I was interested in being his date and I agreed to go.

After that, we didn’t see each other for about two weeks. There was a hurricane that caused a lot of commotion in town and my cell phone quit working. He would call every day during the hurricane to see how my family and I were making out, until my cell phone went kaput that is. My mom couldn’t believe his thoughtfulness and wanted to meet him desperately. Meanwhile, he and I could have conversations via e-mail that we were both too shy to have in person. He wrote me a very romantic e-mail. In it, he asked me why I had a wall up, and how would I feel if he wanted to hold my hand, kiss me, or bring me flowers for no apparent reason. I went ahead and explained that I would soon be returning to my beloved place out West. He said he wanted to try a long distance relationship if I was willing. The way he asked and how thoughtful and gentle he acted, made me want to try harder with him. Not force anything, but just let down my guard and go with the flow. It wasn’t reassuring though, until we finally both got on the same page about where I stand when it comes to living out West. He also wanted me to know that he “wasn’t sex-obsessed.” He genuinely wanted to romance a girl. He wanted affection, but not sex, especially so soon. Something about him is very trustworthy. He’s kind, doting, and completely chivalrous. What worries me is breaking his heart. I probably can’t keep him as a friend if he’s going to get too romantically attached to me and I can’t return the feelings. 

Some of you who know me through facebook know that I’ve been trying to figure out what to do with this boy? Do I just let him go? Do I give him some more time to see if I could become more interested? Do I just hang out with him and enjoy his time, because really, it doesn’t have to lead to anything? But then again, how do I get him on the same page as me when it comes to that? During the next few weeks, things began to take shape. It will take another blog entry(s) to continue this thought, so be prepared for several blog posts to make up for the lack of any lately….

The Summer of Schmooie

Does absence really make the heart grow fonder? I subscribe to the notion that it’s not absence but distance that makes the heart grow relieved. For you see, thanks to distance, there is no need to make any sort of commitment. I say that on behalf of myself and on behalf of the Schmooie wanna-be’s of my most recent past. Over a month ago, I came back East for a work-related conference. Because my family lives back East, I have decided to make an extended stay spending the summer with family. It’s been about seven years since we’ve been able to have extended family time. In the meanwhile, certain Schmooie wanna-be’s from my beloved city in the West have been in contact in some cases quite out of the blue.

The conference took place about two weeks after my encounter with Mr. Interlocking Fingers at the Botanical Garden. While at the conference, in the middle of the day, he called me. I didn’t answer seeing as I was at a meeting and afterwards was swept up in the fun of the city the conference took place in. (Since then, he has continued to send me the occasional e-mail that I ought to be better about answering, but something about him really perturbs me.) The conference was about four days long. Meanwhile, on the night before the conference ended, I got a facebook e-mail from Schmooie Delpino asking what I was doing that weekend. After our first meeting, I friended him on facebook, but aside from accepting my friend request, I hadn’t heard anything else from him for three weeks until that point. So I answered his e-mail explaining I was out of town and would like to get together with him when I get back. On the last night of the conference, Greek Boy called out of the blue. I was busy at Planet Hollywood, and hadn’t heard from him in well over a month. I thought perhaps he got the message I wasn’t that interested, after all, he wanted to get into the legal marijuana business as a career. Not the type of dude that could be Schmooie material. I thought I might as well answer the phone. I chatted with him briefly. He told me to have fun, and that was that. Until, of course he called two times a week later to tell me about a Hebrew course he was taking. 

In the meanwhile, the reason why this blog has been rather quiet lately is because I’ve been having more fun with the family then putting proper effort into finding Schmooie. Call it a summer vacation from Schmooie. Mind you, I’m still on that famous Jewish dating site, and I figure since there are more Jews on the East Coast, I should keep an eye out. Actually, I’ve been on a handful of outings lately with a shy dude from that famous online Jewish dating site. He’s my age, though something about him feels much more like my father’s age. We have a great deal in common when it comes to an insane love for culture, music, and movies from the 1950-1980s. I can mention an obscure band from 1966 and he’ll actually know what I’m talking about. Also, Shy Dude even knows a handful of Yiddish phrases, a language I grew up listening to my mom and her parents speak.  He says I’m adorable and he’s extremely eager to please. I’ve hung out with him a few times, and he has now started to kiss my cheek when he sees me. Now, before you lovely readers get your knicker in a twist, don’t get excited. I don’t want a relationship with him beyond a good friend to hang out with. The good thing is, he knows I’m not going to be in town long-term and he’s okay with just friendship. Still, he does try to throw out subtle hints that he’s a friend but he’d like more. Now, unfortunately, because his job requires a lot of research and computer time, I can’t really go into the delicious detail you all expect from me on this blog. I want to say more about his job and what he looks like, but I must refrain. I’ll let you all just use your own imaginations. Besides, it’s much more fun that way isn’t it?