Defense Mechanism

It makes for an interesting situation when the thing that you want the most is also the thing that you fear the most. It's even more interesting when you realize this on a conscious level. And then knowingly, right before your very own eyes, make choices that will lead you farthest from that thing that you think you want. Because the fear is stronger than the desire.

Of course, I'm referring to my love life, or lack thereof. I won't go so far as to say I want a husband at this point, since I haven't even gotten to a 5th date in the last 11 months. But I will say I'd like a relationship, a companion, a lover, a partner, a best friend who I can share everything with... or at the very least, drinks, dinners, movies, trips and sleep overs. Do we really need to share everything?

I don't even know if I can handle the piece of paper anymore. Sure, I want the jewelry, but can't it just be a "promise" 3.5 carat diamond ring set in platinum? I just want someone to be good to...someone who deserves for me to be good to them. Why waste my goodness on someone undeserving? And, of course, someone who's good to me.

I still think about the Pothead, and how we used to gaze at each other googley eyed, discussing the possibility of our Love Ceremony....a celebration on the beach with our close family and friends to commemorate our lawless union. It was all going to be so perfect, until he dropped the smoke bomb on me. I still miss that little green eyed Jew. But, of course, he wasn't the right one. Any guy who waxes on about how camp was the highlight of his life has some serious issues... so, of course I was attracted. And was saved just in the nick of time, before I got in too deep.

Are the pickings really that slim, or do I just choose to fraternize with the slimmest of the pickings? Suffice it to say, if I'm asking myself this question, I already know the answer. I say I like the bad boys. I like the muscles and the tattoos. But, can I really see an uneducated, meat head, personal trainer fresh from the joint as my lifetime companion, the co-walker of my future puppy? Can I really let my guard down and open my heart to such a character? No. So, it's safe. Because I know it can't go anywhere. I know, even though I give the benefit of the doubt even when I know I shouldn't, this person will sooner, rather than later, do exactly what I expect him to: disappoint me. Thereby preventing any relationship from developing or progressing, allowing me to keep my heart safely under lock and key, as I continue with my fruitless silly antics and dates and choices. Choosing the ones that I know will fail me keeps me in control, or gives me a false sense of it, anyway- because I get exactly what I expect. Opening my heart to someone who could actually be my lifetime companiion, and freeing my heart from the protective barbed wire that encases it, is way too dangerous.

As Usual, I Was Wrong

Apparently, The Punisher is the type to put himself out there again. How could he help himself, seeing me every week? I can be pretty irresistable. It happened last Monday night when I was out on what seemed like a good date with some Greek guy who proceeded to stalk me for the next 6 days, totally freaking me out. Even for me, the attention whore, his multiple daily texts and numerous unanswered calls were way too much.
When I got to the gym on Tuesday and we started working out, The Punisher mentioned that he'd called me the night before. I'd had a few glasses of vino with the crazy Greek, and wasn't paying attention to my phone. He said he called a little after 8, when he got out of work and was at Publix. I asked, "Oh, were you going to cook dinner for me?" He said, "Yes". Game on. I checked my call log later, and there it was...a missed call from BFF just after 8. As usual, no message.
So, we're making our way through our workout...with our usual chemistry and banter. And somewhere between bis and abs, we made plans...to go out...that night. And we were both giddy with anticipation.
I could have written the script of how the night would play out with my hands tied behind my back. Meet at bar. Have too many drinks. Ask a lot of questions. Have a few more drinks. Make out. Passionately. Go home. Alone. Indeed, that was the bones of it. The meat of it was the chemistry, the comfort level, the closeness. I asked most of the questions, as I always do. And he asked me if I was going to bring an interrogation light next time. "Am I asking too many questions?, I asked. "No", he replied, "you're just curious." How else does one extract information from a virtual stranger other than by asking questions? Are all the other women in South Florida that these guys are dating imbecilic twits who can barely form a question? I guess I answered my own question.

The hours flew by like minutes. I knew the passion and chemistry would be there. That was a given from the first day we met. What I didn't know was how gentle and affectionate he'd be. Life is always full of surprises. We made our way from one bar to the next...after so many hours we wanted a change of scenery...although our eyes were clearly only on each other. We ended up at a little dive bar by the beach. Live band, cheap booze and the next thing you know, with just the slightest encouragement from some girls on the makeshift dance floor, I was out there doing my little dance. When I repositioned myself on the barstool next to him it was late and we were both full of liquid courage. And he kissed me. It was soft and sweet, yet intense and passionate. And he looked at me with his bright green eyes as he stroked my silky hair with his calloused hand, pushing my hair away from my face, telling me how pretty I am. And what an incredible smile I have. And he just kept petting me, and kissing my face, like I was his little puppy. The next thing we knew it was last call. 2 am. Time to go home. The night played out exactly as I'd anticipated from the day I showed up at the gym and pranced around in my gold wedges. And it left me wanting more...

I Know How to Pick 'Em

I'm happy to report that I've been reuinted with my trainer...he reappeared from obscurity, and we got right back into the swing of things, after I reprimanded him about how his disappearance was both rude as a BFF and extremely unprofessional as my trainer. He apologized. I accepted. We moved on.
Working out with him is fun, and it's motivating me to actually go to the gym, which is great. Whatever it takes. I think he might still be holding a grudge about me cancelling our previously scheduled "date", even though we talked about it and supposedly worked through it...but I think his Irish/Italian/Napoleon complex may still be harboring some resentment....he just seems a bit more...I don't know, reserved, held back. Let's just say that he's not the type to put himself out there again. Just a feeling.
We worked out together 4 times during the week we reunited...even though I told him I could only pay him for two, he didn't seem to mind. As we went over the schedule he suggested...Thursday, Saturday, Monday and Wednesday...I told him I was on to him and knew he just wanted to see me more often:)
We actually trained together...yes, a bit ususual for a client and trainer, but this relationship is a bit unusual, as all of mine are. It works out for both of us- he makes a few extra bucks and I get a bargain priced personal trainer four times in one week. Everyone's happy.
Having time off has been a real luxury...I could definitely live the life of going to the gym and the beach every day. I really think it would take quite a while for that to get old for me....like a lifetime. I'm desperately hoping to win the lotto. But, I digress.
So, we're pumping iron, I'm sweating, grunting, complaining, struggling...and loving every minute of it. I look into his bright green eyes for reassurance, and he grunts, "come on", pushing me through my reps. Then it's his turn. His body is like a machine. No fat. Insanely strong muscles. Cut up. Chiseled. And adorned with just a sampling of tattoos...only 4, two of which I can see. I like it. I always was a sucker for tattooed muscle heads who could pick me up and swing me around. I guess some things never change. Although there has been no picking up or swinging around. Strictly professional. He's definitely one of the strongest guys in the gym, and from what I've seen, the most muscular of the meat heads. Why would I want a scrawny trainer? I've got the one with the biggest muscles.
So, we finish training on Saturday and he walks me outside. I ask him where he parked and he looks at me and says, "Okay, you want to know the truth?" Not knowing what the hell he was talking about I replied, "Sure, the truth would be nice". He then proceeds to tell me that he somewhat recently got out of jail, where he was locked up for almost two years. Somehow, this didn't surprise me in the least. And my lack of surprise had nothing to do with him whatsoever. I didn't even flinch. I started laughing, looked him straight in those bright green eyes and told him, "I sure know how to pick 'em". He laughed with me and agreed whole-heartedly. And he doesn't even know the half of it. Apparently brick-laying didn't pay well enough, so he slung some yeyo on the side. Hmmmm, real estate's not paying very well either...and I'd love to work from the beach...
Does it get any better than having a muscle bound, tattooed, ex-con Pitbull from Philly for a trainer? I'm gonna be so buff.

Back In Action

I needed some time to myself...to disappear...to relax, to focus on just me, myself and I. I needed the beach, the sun, the pool, my alone time. I needed to retreat...to the back of my closet for a little while. I needed my own space, without anyone peeking in. But, as great, and as necessary as that time was, I knew I couldn't, and shouldn't, stay there forever. I needed to re-emerge. So, here I am. Slightly changed, slightly more aware of who I am, where I am, what I need, slightly more aware of why I might not have what I think I may want. Introspection and realization are good things...it's always time well spent when we learn about ourselves.

Don't think that just because I wasn't talking, I wasn't doing. I just didn't feel like sharing. I didn't want any feedback. I didn't want to hear any opinions. I wanted anonymity. I wanted to exercise my God given right to do, or not do, anything I damn well pleased at any time I damn well wanted...without any responsibilities, any obligations, any judgements. I just wanted to take care of ME. So, I did.

For the past few feeks I have successfully aspired to live the ultimate beach bum lifestyle. And I liked it. A lot. Maybe too much. I woke up late every day, and lay in bed contemplating which beach to go to. I hit three different beaches in three different towns in three days. I was in heaven. As I listened to the waves crash in while repeatedly re-applying my sunscreen, I wracked my brain trying to figure out how I could do this full time and not return to the working world...ever again. I know first hand it's completely over-rated. Much to my chagrin, I didn't figure it out...not yet, anyway. And since the calendar says I start my new job tomorrow...I'll have to relinquish myself to being the ultimate beach bum only 2 days a week for now. During the other five days, I'll hock real estate.

Now back to our regularly scheduled program...