Posts Tagged 'Fancy Shoes'

Win some, lose some.

On Sunday, I kissed a pair of fancy shoes hello when Fancy Shoes returned my purple patent leather platform heels [yum].   Today, I kissed Fancy Shoes [figuratively] goodbye when our relationship came to an official close [we remain friends, I’m just being dramatic].
It is sad in the way that the end of anything good is sad.  I feel sad when I finish a cupcake, for example.  But Fancy Shoes was, in many ways, better than a cupcake [maybe not a Magnolia cupcake, but still].  He was good company and reasonable and easy to hang out with and he didn’t get mad at me when I drank too much [or mad ever, really].  All of those were good qualities.  And plus, it was very nice having a regular “thing,” if you will.  I don’t mean just physically, but you know, the routine  of it all.  Fancy Shoes will be missed.  Stay gold, Fancy Shoes.  [Hello, Outsiders!]
But on the other hand, it is happy, because it was time and it was inevitable.*   And also [perhaps mostly], because my elevator crush recently suggested that we grab after-work drinks.  And even though I said no because I felt like I had to say no, I kind of wanted to say yes.  And now I can [but actually, I won’t say yes, because my friend pointed out that he has total douchebaggery written all over his fancy pinstrip pants PLUS he is an agent – so double no, which is too bad because I would have had a Fancy Pants to talk about!].  Anyhow, my point is that things feel exciting again.
I think there was even a lesson::
1:: No more dating guys who read my blog.  Ever.  It is awkward, and worse, my blog suffers because of it.  I could of told some funny slightly exagerated stories had it not been for Fancy’s awareness of this here blog.
* Too many “ands,” I know.  Can’t help myself today.

The earth shook and my life got shaken up.

[First comes the earth shaking part]
As a Los Angeles native, one might think that I am adept at handling earthquakes. One would be wrong. When an earthquake strikes, I lose my cool. Today was no exception. While my building was creaking, I panicked, I asked my assistant to “please make it stop” [she didn’t] and I cowered in the corner like a fool. It took me a solid hour to regain my composure [actually, it is not clear I had composure to begin with]. The only bonus after today’s quake was the out pouring of love and affection from my peeps [with one notable exception]. Seriously, about a dozen people called, texted, and emailed. All to see if I was ok [I am]. I won’t lie, it made me feel special.
[Next comes the life shaken up part]
Shortly after the quake, my roommate informed me that she is moving back to Arizona [due to sickness, not quake]. For may reasons, her moving is a good thing. It turns out that having a roommate kind of sucks. When I moved into this house after living alone, my intention was to live with Evil Troll, my then best friend. We all know how that worked out. The girl who moved in after her, while good intentioned, is pretty much a total nuisance. But this also means that I have a very short period [31 days] to figure out what the hell I am going to do and where I am going to go myself. And if there is one thing that stresses me out more than earthquakes, it is moving.
In hopes of getting a little support, I called Fancy Shoes to share my news and my stress. About two minutes [maybe not even two minutes, actually] into my call, he started going on about how he thinks my bathroom is nicer than his, but his backyard is nicer than mine. And how his common space will be nicer than mine once he is done with his remodel. Huh? Wasn’t this call about me? And my stress? Yes, I do believe it was. So, I tried to redirect the convo, and instead learned about how he bought tickets to go on vacation…in 2009. Nothing about the conversation made me feel good. It did, however, make me want to get off the phone.
[and now something about milkshakes]
Growing increasingly agitated, I emailed my friend K. and declared that I needed a powwow, STAT. We met in the lobby of my building for milkshakes. I vented. I freaked out a little. Oh hell, I freaked out a lot. But still, no solutions for my problems.
[finally, fuck milkshakes, I need something stiff]
My friend then suggested happy hour. He knows me well.
[UPDATE: Post drinks]
Nope, still no solutions.  But feeling more ok with that.

Misery loves company, they say.

I just talked to an old friend of mine and the conversation has left me highly agitated. I tried to put into words my frustration, but I think a chart is necessary. [Click through for larger]

Drama.

Friend Drama Chart.

Insecure Friend is sad because Happy Friend, with whom Insecure Friend had a very significant relationship has moved on and is happily involved in a new relationship.

Insecure Friend calls me this afternoon to talk about her frustration at Happy Friend and to express her opinion that Happy Friend’s new relationship is a bad one because his chosen love interest mistreats him and is manipulative [which is actually untrue]. I am as supportive as I can be, given that I think Insecure Friend is feeling a little envious and displaced, which is understandable given the circumstances.

Next, Insecure Friend tells me that she suspects that Allegedly Sad Friend is depressed, and that she is horribly worried about him and wants to know if I agree.

I tell her that while I have not seen Allegedly Sad Friend for several months, he seemed fine the last time we hung out.

Insecure Friend suggests that our conversation is taking a turn for the depressing, and that we ought to start talking about happy things. I agree and begin to tell Insecure Friend that I am really happy, work is good, and that I am dating Fancy Shoes.

Insecure Friend interrupts me to mention, for no reason, that Allegedly Sad Friend has been spending a lot of time with My Former Friend* and that she recalls that Allegedly Sad Friend said something about being mad at me – but conveniently said conversation was a long time ago and she can not recall the details.

I recently received an email from Allegedly Sad Friend and so I am pretty sure that we are on good terms [but I just emailed him to be sure], so I skeptical of Insecure Friend. Still, I am left bewildered as to why Insecure Friend would share such a strange and useless bit of information with me, at the time she did, unless she was trying to make me feel as bad as she obviously did.

I still love Insecure Friend a great deal and know that she has this tendency to try to stir up trouble sometimes and exaggerate at times, which is an attribute I have accepted, but I remain agitated.

A bad end to an otherwise really lovely weekend.

* Former Friend and Diet Coke are not actively not friends, but have stopped hanging out as they once did as a result of a new woman Former Friend has in his life who for reasons that can not be understood, HATES Diet Coke. Clearly, she has bad taste.

Turns out, women are the enemy.

I recently wrote about the evils of The Mens. Turns out though, that I should have been watching out for the women instead, as they are the ones who’s special brand of evil cuts the deepest.

This part Friday, Fancy Shoes and I were dining at an Ethiopian restaurant somewhere in the middle of Los Angeles when he asked about whether I had encountered any person who knew him. The world being small, and the world of lawyers being even smaller, it seemed a reasonable question. While I had not, turned out that he knew not one but TWO people who “knew” me.

The first was a gal who had worked at my ex’s [not an ex mentioned on this here blog] previous firm. The second was a girl who had heard about me from a girl who had heard about me from a girl that I work with. Don’t follow? Well, let me break it down.

A girl that I work with told someone that I do not a know a series of unflattering half-truths about me. This person then told ANOTHER person that I don’t know these things. The second person that I don’t know then shared these things with Fancy Shoes.

When I first heard these things, I was a little shaken up, but I decided that I would brush them off. I know from my own experience, that when I speak negatively of people, unless they have done something TO me, my disparaging words typically stem from my own insecurity or envy. Since I know that I have done nothing to any person at work, I chalked up their unkindness to the same.

But as I sat picking at a giant plate of I don’t know what with my fingers, I began to get increasingly more distressed. The things the person were saying were beyond the typical “I don’t like Diet Coke” type jargon. They were statements that were very damaging, malicious and worst of all, mostly false [or at a minimum very misleading]. Whats more, the person that I believe is propagating the nonsense is someone that I lik[ed], that I am constantly standing up for, and with whom I thought I had a trusting relationship and friendship.

I don’t know what possessed the person to say what she did, but frankly, there is no excuse for it. Aside from the fact that the comments she made me seem like a seriously problematic person/employee, the words were not spoken to a trusted confidant of the original speaker. They were told to some asshat who then decided that without even knowing me one lick, she was going to go ahead and propagate the gossip even further. That is downright ugly.

While I don’t think that Fancy Shoes gave much credence to the things he heard [or at least that is what I hope], the fact is that he, or someone else hearing them, could have. And could have made their judgment about me based on what they heard.

Not sure how I am going to handle this come Monday. But I think there is a 90% chance tears will be involved.

The two things that did come out of this that were good were 1) another person from work that I consider my friend [but whom I briefly doubted] being hugely supportive, and 2) Fancy Shoes being terribly sweet despite my unrelenting tears.

My Ride.

Last night we had an office party. As with most office parties had by my office, booze were involved. In this instance, a particularly fine champagne selection was on hand. And after Diet Coke, Champagne is very much my favorite liquid to consume [well, that an milk shake]. Which is bad. Especially since at some point last night I knew I would have to get home and somehow also be able to get back to the office bright and early the next morning.

At around 8:30 [maybe?] I called Fancy Shoes (formerly “Creepy Sleeper”)* and asked if he’d pick me up in an hour [not wanting to be the first to leave the party]. He said he was too tired and rejected my proposal.

Not wanting to take a taxi [because Taxi’s are depressing], I replied to a friend** who had texted me earlier to see what he was up to. The friend who has earlier texted enthusiastically agreed to by My Ride. Perhaps a little too enthusiastically.

My Ride arrived to scoop me at around 9:15 [I think]. My Ride INSISTED, [seriously, I was pretty much held hostage] that since I was already in a drink-ie mood, we should stay out. Usually, I would be okay with such a proposal as drinking tends to make me want to drink more. But last night, I was tired, my head was a little achy from all the bubbly, I really wanted my bed and I was feeling a little down. But again My Ride kept pushing, until finally I gave in.

I thought a good compromise would be to go to a bar close to my house [Three Clubs] because that way, once I had my obligatory drink, I could ask that we leave easy/fast style. So at the bar, My Ride keeps prodding me about why I was down. I explained that I was not really down DOWN, but just maybe in a little bit of a pouty mood. At which point I guess My Ride thought a good way to make me feel better was to try to molest me at the bar.

Well, he didn’t molest me. But he did go in for a kiss. At which time I cried out, “what are you doing!!!???” Quickly he apologized and I thought that was the end of that. THEN, like ten minutes later he tried to put his hand up my dress. I promptly removed his hand and placed back on his knee. I guess he thought I was being coy because then he went in for ANOTHER kiss. At this point, I told him I wanted to go home. And he replied that if I wanted to go home, I could mossy on out. Alone.

So I did – and ended up walking home. It wasn’t that far [about a mile], but it really sucked. And I am/was really mad. And I cried. And I fully expected an apology by the morning, but alas, I have gotten none.

So the lessons I have learned from this experience are::

1:: Don’t drink too much champagne at an office party.

2:: If you do, be careful who you call.

3:: [Some] people kind of suck.

4:: Always pack a pair of flip flops because you never know when you will be walking home.

* Creepy Sleeper does not like to be called Creepy Sleeper. So as a courtesy to Creepy Sleeper, I am going to refer to him as Fancy Shoes instead. It was either that or Transformer (because of an alleged impending transformation) or just pain old D. I suspect that Fancy Shoes won’t like Fancy Shoes or Transformer or D. – but one must be chosen. I just want to be clear, Fancy Shoes is not intended to be insulting – it merely relates to the fact that he has lots of Fancy Shoes. Which is not a bad thing.

** This “friend” I speak of is a friend of one of my other friends who I met about a year ago at a party my original friend’s girlfriend was hosting. Once several months ago we got drunk and kissed, but not before or after such time has there been anything physical between us. So I get that maybe he thought that I was drunk dialing him to hook up [which I have never done before so I don’t know why he’d think that], but once it was clear that was not the case, why did he have to go on and be an asshole?

Oh god, and now it is the next afternoon and one of my favorite co-workers maybe just quit over a disagreement with another employee. [UPDATE:: The employee to whom I was referring to almost quiting is Work Troll!! Note, how I called her my “favorite” then.]

I want to go home and burrow.