Time Flies When You're Having Funemployment

If you can believe it, I was laid off from my job exactly one year ago.

It doesn't even seem possible that it has been 365 days since I sat in that office, my manager's manager looking everywhere but at me while an HR person that I never saw before handed me a packet and said words that made no sense to me. "Your job has been eliminated."

I just saw the movie "Up in the Air", and, as much as it was a really sweet movie (and George Clooney's love interest, a horsey, borderline attractive older woman, was totally unbelievable..but that's another story), there were many scenes where the main character had to lay people off that made me really uncomfortable...their reactions were not unlike my own. Crying, disbelieving, angry. I always wondered how others reacted while being told they were no longer needed...that they were no longer going to be bringing money in...if they, too, looked at their manager's manager with tears streaming down their face and said "I'm totally fucked."

I remember I walked back to my office in a fog after telling them I wanted the entire day to pack up my things. I got back to my desk, to the space that I shared with my boss and another co-worker. They were both crying. I literally slammed into my chair, looked at her and said "do not talk to me right now." She had only found out that morning that I was getting canned, and there was nothing she could do about it.

I was really freaked out. 4 years of work landed me about a month and one week of severance. I paid my rent and all my bills myself-no husband or live-in lover to share the burden. I had no savings to speak of other than a few thousand in the bank. I was a typical New Yorker who lived by the seat of my pants, enjoyed life a little too much, and never planned for the future.

Feels like forever ago, yet it feels like yesterday. Funny, that.

It Was Only a Matter of Time

Something that has been very hard for me to accept as a part-time unemployed person is the idea of losing one's sense of pride.

Between the begging for work (yes, it's gotten to the point of begging), and picking up freelance jobs that are so FAR beneath one's abilities and salary requirements, you can't really let your ego get in the way. This also goes for the part-time jobs that you might have to add to your resume to make ends meet-in my case, my twice-a-week gig as a hostess in a tex-mex/beach shack restaurant where they are big on dressing like a cross between someone out of "Oklahoma" and a mermaid. I call it Slutty Cowgirl Chic. My manager is obsessed with flair. Cowboy hats, anchors, sea creatures. Throw it all together and you've got...well...kind of a mess, actually.

At any rate, this is what it's come down to, and like it or not, it's the state of affairs (and truth be told, it's fun to dress up and look a little silly from time to time (it's definitely inspired some, uh, interesting bedroom role-playing ideas).

The other night a couple with a baby walked in and asked for a table for 3. The woman looked really familiar to me, but I couldn't place her, and she looked at me strangely as well. I pulled out some menus and as I was about to show them to a table she asked me "Is your name Cheese?"

Ah fuck. Busted.

I recognized her immediately as someone that I worked with a million years ago, at my "real" job. She got herself a husband and a baby. I got myself a cowboy hat and...not much else. Crap.

"What are you doing here?" she asked incredulously.

I then felt that I had to explain my entire situation. Oh, you know, I was laid off. Oh you know, I freelance, REALLY...but summer is slow. Oh you know, I have a cowgirl fetish and this satisfies my fantasy of being Ginger Rogers. Good lord...what was I doing here? It's a fucking job.

I showed them to their table and she explained to her hubby that we used to work together at (big bad ad agency). He raised his eyebrows and said "oh really". I then lingered at their table for a moment longer, catching up on life with my ex-coworker. Her husband cut in and asked "So are you our server or what?" I guess I was overstaying my welcome, since now I am no longer their "equals" but just a servant in a restaurant.

I told him their server would be with them momentarily, and to enjoy their meal. Like a dutiful hostess would do. I then hid in the kitchen for the remainder of their time there.

If I learned anything from that exchange, I would say it was that ultimately, I do not want to end up like those people. A big, fat, post-pregnant stay-at-home mom married to a big, fat, schlubby asshole who think people are "beneath" them if you are not sitting behind a big fat desk in a big fat office making a big fat salary. I'll keep my cowboy hat and my flair. And my dignity..somewhere in there...

Once a Firecracker...

I find that I tend to blog when things feel like they're going downhill in my life..thankfully, as my infrequent musings have shown, this is not all that often. However, when the downward spiral begins, it feels infinite and awful and I forget all the wonderfulness that has lead up to this very moment. By tomorrow, the spiral will most likely go in reverse, but at this moment, it is endless.

I am finding that my happiness definitely seems to stem from adoration of others, which is tricky, as people's adoration of me certainly waxes and wanes like the phases of the moon (which also weigh heavily on my happiness, since I am a Cancer baby, through and through). Throw in some good ole PMS and we've got some good old-fashioned wallowing, to be examined and picked apart like a Michael Jackson autopsy.

So let's see...what's been going on to lead up to this moment?

I have had a phenomenal summer. Truly. How could I not? I have been on an extended hiatus from work, and the last 3 weeks have been heaven as far as the weather is concerned. I'm tanner and hotter than I've probably ever been, due to many trips to the beach, pool and gym, as well as all the bike riding and yoga I've gotten accustomed to. I have great friends, many of whom are also on hiatus from work, so I have plenty of people to play with and keep me entertained.

I have been lucky so far in that I have been able to find freelance work when things have gotten bleak-I look at my bank account and kick my self-promotion into high-gear...I know how to market myself when I need to and it's proven to be fruitful...I took on a part-time job at an amazing establishment to keep me afloat, and I really enjoy it. I'm meeting fun people and have absolutely shaken up my "comfort zone" which seems to be the theme of 2009, over and over again.

I am doing my Montauk share house again and I adore it. I adore the people in the house and I am obsessed with Montauk..always have been. There's something about that town that is magical and soothing, and I am so lucky and thankful for every second I get to spend there. So there's that.

So what is the fucking problem?

Well. For starters. Money. There never seems to be enough of it. I always had money issues, because I am a serial spender...I have always made good money..not great money, but definitely enough to live on...and I frittered it away without a second thought. Now I have to worry about every cent that is earned and every cent that is spent (I don't much spend time on the latter, still) but what's weird is that I don't love money all that much, so I don't spend a lot of time trying to earn it. I just want enough to get by. Which makes me feel unmotivated and without goals. Which leads me to...

Creative output. I have had 8 months of freedom, basically, give or take some freelance work here and there. I have come up with some brilliant ideas. Many of which I have seen executed by others. I have had an idea for a book that my publishing friend told me is amazing, but I need to get on it NOW. Have I done any of it? Of course not. Honestly, my free days off have been consumed with how many hours I can spend at the gym (which is way too expensive but I cannot bear to cancel my membership) and how many people I can squeeze into my social calendar. I have half-assedly talked to some people about some of my ideas, and they are all "on board", but not really, because everyone is concerned with their own aspirations right now, understandably. I rely on others to make my dreams happen. This is apparent in life, as well as love. Which doesn't help me all that much.

I haven't dated in several months. I think this is partly because I am too comfortable being single. Possibly because I spent most of this year being obsessed with (Remax2) which felt safe. I have finally come to terms with my Remax2 issues. But that makes me feel empty...you spend so much time obsessing over someone and hoping for the best, and when you come to the realization that it isn't going to happen (even when you knew all along that it wasn't), it leaves you with, well, nothing. I have cancelled all my online dating subscriptions-I don't want to meet someone that way, and it's becoming more and more apparent that I'm NOT going to meet someone that way. So goodbye to that. But that safety net has been cut, so even more so I have to rely on my "charisma" and "charm" to make that happen, which as we all know hasn't been very productive.

I keep thinking that I want to want someone. But ultimately I might find it easier to be alone.

The other day at my part-time job I was jamming out to some old Adam and the Ants that was on the stereo. One of my coworkers, who is probably a good 10 years older than me, blurted out "I bet you were a real firecracker when you were a teenager."

I actually wasn't. I'm a firecracker now. But at the age of 41, the spark is weak.

Is This The Real Life? Is This Just Fantasy?

So, I have come to yet another realization about myself that has possibly been obvious to all of you for the last however many years you have been tuning into my life, but not so much to me...I clearly have a) commitment issues and b) I live in a fantasy world.

I find myself yet again entrenched in a situation that can only go nowhere, yet I spend so much time and energy on it. Admittedly, it is fun. It is an ego boost. And I am enjoying every second of this flirtation, for what it's worth. Yet I find that I am allowing it to take the place of all other intersexual relationships in my life at this moment.

There are a zillion nice guys who would be more than happy to spend time with me if I gave them half a chance. There is something different in me, something not so caring, that is making all the guys I come into contact with less important..and somehow, that makes me more desirable. But I don't give two flying fucks, because I am so engrossed in a situation that can't possibly go anywhere (although my way of thinking-as always in these situations-is never say never)..which is equal parts titillating and frustrating. The thrill of the game is always there, which is exciting. But the fact of the matter is that as real as it feels, it's a fucking game. Yet again, I prefer to be a pawn than live out the role of a real-life human in a big, fat adult relationship.

What the fuck is that?

Am I seriously still this fucked up over my last relationship that I can't fathom something real?
Or have I always been this retarded?

Either way, the realization is giving me too much to think about, and we all know how much I hate to do that.

Epiphany

Yesterday was Date #2 with Truffle Man.

I was a little bit nervous to meet up with Truffle Man, as I'd had a pleasant time with him on our last date, and didn't want to expect too much or be too hopeful. I also had a hard time with the outfit decision...usually by date 2 I am letting it all hang out (if not already on date 1) but I'm trying to be more demure in my old age, as I've mentioned before. I settled on a halter top with a short but respectable skirt and flat sandals. I looked casual yet put together. Cute with a hint of sexy, but not obvious.

Imagine my surprise when I got to the restaurant and Truffle Man was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts, and Birkenstocks.

Yup, Birkenstocks.

I do not condone this outfit even if he were going to the beach. Which he wasn't. He was meeting me at 8pm for a dinner...granted it wasn't a fancy dinner, but it was our second date, and dammit, I have to worry about how I look, why the fuck doesn't he???

I was giving myself a hard time inside my head for being the kind of girl who cares about such things, but honestly, it was hard to allow myself to look past it. But I did, because he's nice, and I enjoy his company. But I couldn't help feeling like, in throwing on such an ensemble, he just didn't give a flying fuck about our date (or...even worse, he thought very carefully about it, and that was the outfit that he came up with, which is really frightening..so I try not to think about that).

I concentrated on our food and the conversation that took place for the next 2 hrs. Light flirting went into play, and I eased up about the bad outfit.

It was becoming increasingly clear that he was enjoying my company, and he hinted several times about seeing me again...doing things in the future...all very nice, very good things. We went to my local bar, had a drink...and then I started to get tired.

Now I know me, if I like a guy, tired be damned...I will rally. But all of a sudden I just really wanted to go. So he walked me home. And I realized that he was about the same height as me. And I was wearing flats, remember...I got to my apartment and I think he was waiting for an invite up. I hugged him goodbye, kissed him sort of on the mouth and thanked him for a good time. He looked disappointed. I was relieved.

Don't get me wrong, if he asks me out again (which I think he will) I will say yes. I have not completely given up on this. I don't care that much about the outfit. What I care about is that I don't feel attracted enough to him, and as much as I could learn to feel attracted to him, I'm just not conditioned that way. I truly believe that you like who you like, and that is just the way it goes.

I know you are all reading this and shaking your heads and thinking about all the times I wished I had a nice guy and all the times I cried over Remax2 and all the times I hated that I was single. But here's what I have been realizing over and over...I am not going to settle. I have been single for too long now, and I'm kind of ok with it...I want to be the type of person who doesn't need instant animal magnetism to be with a man. But I'm not. I cannot "learn" to be attracted to someone. It's not in my genetic makeup. I'm not going to date someone just for the sake of not being alone...as tempting as it can be. Maybe something will click for me the next time I see him. Or maybe he's another candidate for the Friend Zone.

It's not him, it's ME.

And four days later...

So, I reread what I wrote a mere 4 days ago and I feel like this week has had a significant turnaround. Truth be told, not all that much has happened, but I guess when you have absolutely NOTHING going on, a few small events can feel like the earth has shifted.

I did NOT get picked to be a juror. Thank GOD. It was quite a hilarious ride though. By day 3 I had developed such a crush on the Keith Partridge haired attorney. I don't even know that he was all that attractive, but I guess when you're sitting in the front row of a very small room listening to the same questions be asked and answered over and over again, you can make Carrot Top look like Brad Pitt. Or something like that. I caused quite a ruckus...I brought up a reason why they may not exactly want me on their jury...I had a beef with the defendant...I got taken outside a lot. I had to visit the judge. Keith Partridge hair told me I was an attention whore (well, he didn't say whore...but we all know I am one, so...) Then finally, FINALLY they let me go on Day 3. I waited for Keith Partridge hair to make his move. He did not. C'est la vie ;)

Tuesday night I had a date-yes a date!-with the not Jacques Torres truffle-maker. It was actually quite successful! We had a respectable two drinks. I did not wear a slutty outfit, figuring it was time to weed out the dudes who only liked me for my boobs. He told me how he had planned a surprise for me initially, had we gone out to dinner (I nixed dinner in lieu of first meeting drinks. NEVER do first date dinner. NEVER!) and my response was "Oh, were you going to propose?" At which he laughed. And not nervously, might I add. He drove me home, and there was a brief hug at the door. And he emailed me the next day and promptly invited me out again. So. We'll see.

My long distance paramour and I have been flirting shamelessly and endlessly all over the internet. Last night, after getting home from a night out in the East Village with Remax2, Mr Long Distance and I texted (sexted?) until 5am. He is coming here in July and I'm both intrigued and frightened about this visit. Too many expectations have been flung out there already, but then again, the power of suggestion is very, very mighty. So who knows. All in fun, right?

Remax2. He's still around. I think he is a lifer. I have no more to say on that.

I attended a going away party tonight for an ex-blogger friend, and reconnected with a
really great group of people that I regret I don't get to see more often. I'm thrilled for my friend and excited for her new life, but I am going to miss our neighborhood jaunts and dinners!

I did not hear back from any of the places that I interviewed at a few weeks back, and no new job opportunities have come up in my industry that I know of. I did, however, meet up with my friend and put in my application to hostess at the new restaurant she's managing. I also started applying for writing jobs...something that I never had the balls to do before. I even sent some writing samples from this very blog in response to a Craigs List ad looking for "sexy, smart, funny stories for a new nightlife publication".

So. We shall see.

Treading Water

I'm having a really hard time deciding if my life is going to get decidedly more exciting, or if it's just all going to blow up in my face in a big and bad way. Or neither. Maybe it's just wishful thinking, being that I've been coasting for the last six months or so and don't really have anything to show for it, and therefore need to hope and pray that I end up with something magnificent before I die of ennui or get evicted from my apartment.

Since I am still pretty much unemployed (had two interviews last week but haven't heard anything since then) I am going to have to get creative with the job hunt. I'm talking to a friend of mine about hostessing at a restaurant she manages. I'm looking at an opening at my favorite ice cream shop. I'm scouring the internet for weird odd jobs and, yet again, contemplating the nude model idea from way back when. My big bad memoir hasn't even begun to be written, so the likelihood of THAT providing me with any income anytime soon is just a wet dream at this point...but don't get me started or I will break down and sob about what a waste of life I am, and that, my friends, will just not be pretty.

As for my love life...it's still pretty pathetic...and probably will remain so (which is still being done on purpose...I got a lecture from one of my friends a couple weeks ago that I am just still not ready to meet someone...and she is probably absolutely right). BUT, I have a few things up my sleeve by the way of a long-distance fling...a musician who is traveling the world right now...and a guy who owned his own truffle company (unfortunately it is NOT Jacques Torres). Of course none of these things are going to lead to anything good or real, but if I'm not "ready"...then why not have some fun while I wait it out, right?

And I totally caught a lawyer looking at my tits during the voir dire at jury duty today. He has Keith Partridge hair, feathered and all...and I kinda think he's hot. If I don't get picked for the case I'm going to try really hard to get me some of that. Haha!