Is Being Good Worth It?

I have a bit of a crush. And I'm not so sure its a good thing.

See, its on someone I shouldn't even think of in a crush sort of way. Its someone who technically, is one of my bosses, but in a very distant sort of way.

Where I work, I'm the head honcho of my department. BUT, I answer to another set of managers who oversee the whole show. C is one of them.

And here's the other thing. While I thought him attractive and very, very nice when we first met, I totally wrote him off as a dating prospect. We're very different, and, well, like I said, he's technically a higher-up.

There have been times where I thought I caught him looking at me in that "sizing up" sort of way; and there have been times where he's popped into my office just to say a quick hello or drop off some files, and ended up staying WAY longer than he needed to -- like, an hour longer.

And other managers have noticed. In fact, 2 of them recently encouraged me to pursue something, and this was without me ever revealing my small, semi-crush.

They say, "Hey, he's single and cute and nice; why don't you go after him?"

And me, being the ever politically correct and anal, "have to abide by the rules" type, I've always blown off their suggestions and denied any interest.

But this week, I had to stop by his office -- and found myself lingering longer than necessary. And today, out of the blue, one of the above mentioned managers brought his name up and said -- I think you should go after him. He's cute, very nice, good job, Jesus, what the hell are you waiting for?

So I did my cynical laugh and denied any interest, and added, "besides, I don't even know that we'd be allowed to date. He's technically one of my bosses"

She smirked, clicked her tongue and said, "Oh for crying out loud -- he's not. He doesn't even have that much to do with your department. If I were you, I'd go for it."

And now, I can't stop thinking about him, or the possibility. And being the anal, over analytical type, I also have to wonder if my recently realized crush is simply due to the fact that I have not had a real date in months? And those I've had in the past year have been total disasters?

Am I really interested in HIM? Or do I just want to date someone?

I have mentioned this crush to just a couple trusted friends. One of them said I always worry too much about this type of "politically correct crap" and end up screwing myself in the long run. And she played dirty, bringing up J.

J. was a frat boy I knew in college. When I just so happened to be working for the student newspaper and was assigned to cover stories about the campus frats and sororities.

He was gorgeous, and sweet, and had the sparkliest blue eyes I'd ever seen then or since.

He was always so nice to me, and every now and again he'd say or do something flirty -- which I conciously ignored, because hey, I was a serious student journalist and no way I was going to jeopardize my journalistic integrity just for the sake of a date with a cute boy.

Then it happened. A week before the semester was to end, I ran into J on campus. We both had time between classes and chatted on a lawn on a mild, breezy late fall day. We were talking and he mentioned his frat's upcoming formal. And then he got all serious and said, "but at this point, I don't even think I'm gonna go. I can't even find a date."

Now believe me -- this guy had it all and my guess is, if he had stood up right there and then and shouted out that he needed a date for Saturday's formal, he would've had to beat a horde of girls off with a stick.

Me, being my anal and self-righteous, Woodward-Bernstein self, said nothing.

So he tried again. "You don't happen to know anyone I could go with, do you?"

At that point, a very big part of me wanted to say, "yeah, I could go with you if you wanted me to." After all, I would only be compromising my inner Lois Lane for one day of a remaining 7 in the semester.

But instead, I shifted from one foot to the other, glanced at my watch, and focused my gaze on the stream of other students walking by, then bowed my head and uttered a quiet, but firm, "No, sorry J., I don't."

Even as I type this now, more than 15 years later, I am filled with regret and kicking myself for having been so FREAKIN' STUPID!!! If I had one moment in my life to relive, that would be one of my top three picks to do over. I would've said yes, bought a very hot dress (because I was a size 4 in college), and had a fabulous nite with J.

Instead, I comforted myself with the fact that I did the right thing, career-wise; That maybe that was a test and obviously, I had what it took to always remain an objective, professional reporter. HA!

Besides, I said on that Saturday nite that was J's formal, as I relayed the story to my roommate over Michelob Lite's, there's gonna be lots of boys in the future. And its the end of the semester anyway -- it would have been one date and then that woulda been it. We'd go home for the holidays, I wouldn't be working the frat beat the following semester and we'd probably not see each other again, since it was such a big campus.

The next semester, I ran into J on campus after the first month or so of school and slyly mentioned that I wasn't writing for the campus newspaper that semester. I was doing layout instead.

He said that was interesting and asked if I liked it. We chatted for a few minutes and did the "see ya around" goodbye. Two weeks later, I saw him again and decided to finally go for it. I flirted. Asked what he was doing that weekend. But instead of telling me where he'd be hanging, he said he hated to rush off, but he was meeting his girlfriend in 10 minutes and was running late.

I kicked myself again. And even shed a few angry tears as I walked away.

Which brings me full circle now. If this crush on C is real, and I do have a genuine interest, but bury it again, like I did when I detected his interest in me a while back but ignored it, and like I did, regrettably with J, both in the name of professionalism, will I live to regret it?

Since he's not a direct boss, would it be okay to pursue more than a professional relationship as some have suggested?

Besides, I'm already looking for another job as I've become frustrated and fed up with things at my current place of employment and hope to be gone in the near future anyway. So why not "seize the day"?

And truth be told, I'm getting tired of always denying myself and my desires simply for the sake of propriety and political correctness and professional reasons.

Having written this, I still don't know what I'll do -- if anything; but this post has made me realize one thing -- the crush is real. And being good is not only not easy, but very frustrating and tiring as well.

I Have to be Able to Live Here

Okay, I caved.

MSNBC is my home page, and when I saw a story about fans flocking to a virtual tour of Clay Aiken's home, now up for sale, curiosity got the best of me and seconds later, there I was, checking out the American Idol runner up's digs.

While impressive, the thing that struck me the most was how impersonal it all was.

Obviously decorated and furnished by a high-end LA interior decorator, the place was beautiful and very tastefully furnished.

But the only thing that suggested Clay lived there was the masculine color palette.

And, I honestly can't see a 25-year-old singer being comfortable amongst all the fancy furniture, luxurious drapes and rich color schemes. I couldn't imagine him coming home after a day of recording or performing and actually being able to relax in any of those rooms.

Where are the personal photos, and souvenier chatchkes that adore the living spaces of most 20-somethings? Heck, even 30-somethings? Does Clay even live there, or does he just crash there when he happens to be in LA? For chrissakes, hang a poster or something!

Having recently bought a home, I often yearn for an anal, obnoxious, dressed-in-black-from head-to-toe designer to sweep into my space and tell me what needs to be done.

"Buy these curtains, paint these walls this shade, install new hardwood floors, and here are some great accessories from this great designer warehouse I just love!"

"And puh-leeze get rid of that tacky picture and these ridiculous chatchkes. We want clean lines. Harrummph!"

Within a couple of weeks the whole place would shine, and have very elegant, well put-together rooms that blend in with a unified theme. Everything would match and none of the styles would clash with each other. It would look like something straight off the pages of Architectural Digest or Beautiful Homes.

But ..... it wouldn't look like me and it wouldn't feel like home.

Excuse me Mr. Designer, but I happen to love that picture in the wooden mauve colored frame that is cracked! I remember the day I bought it at a Starving Artists sale and the fact that it is painted on a black background, completely opposite of 99% of the paintings out there remind me of the india ink pictures I learned how to make in 5th grade AND it makes a statement that I'm accepting of things that don't fit with the standard way of doing things.

Get rid of that little ceramic pony? You say its juvenile? Well, you're right. It is. My late grandmother plucked it from her curio shelves when she saw my 6-year-old self admiring it one day and told me I could have it. To keep. Forever. And so far, I have. No way your sneering distaste of it is ever gonna convince me to toss it.

Those senseless, non-thematic chatchkes on my book shelves that you say compete with the understated elegance you're trying to create? They're stayin' too. I remember how I came to own each and every one of them. That's why they're out on display in my parlor, for everyone to see, dipshit!

In fact, forget my wish. As beautiful and well-put together designers can make things look, I prefer the do-it-yourself approach. The one that says, yeah, let's pretty up the place, but not lose sight of the fact that someone lives here.

I want a space that when I come home after a hard day, as I look around the room, I see things that remind me of places I've been and people I've known, and states of mind I've been in when I bought them or received them, or simply found them. I want to be calmed. Not worried that the shoes I just kicked off and into the corner are ruining the whole balance of the design.

Maybe if Clay had done that, he wouldn't be selling after only owning the house for just under a year.

And notice how my design rant totally made you forget how nerdy I must be because I happen to be a 37-year-old who not only likes Clay Aiken's music, but cares about his house;)

Not A Settler

"So, what is the one thing you absolutely won't put up with?" one of my co-workers asked, in regards to relationships.

It was a hard question to answer just off the cuff like that.

Friends and family have often remarked how I'm either unexplicably unlucky in love, or, that things might not be working out because I'm so tough. Meaning, I have standards and requirements I want met, and I'm not settling for less.

There were a couple of men I almost "settled" for and thought about compromising my wants and desires for the sake of having a lasting relationship with them. In hindsight, I'm glad I didn't .

There was one man I would've taken a bullet for, if necessary. Looking back, although the breakup was devastating to me, I'm glad it happened because I don't think I'd be the person I am today, had we stayed together. My life also would be drastically different, and, I think, by now, I'd be bored out of my mind. And most likely frustrated at being a mostly traditional housewife and mother, which is what he truly wanted in a marriage partner. Not that there's anything wrong with that; its just not me.

I won't lie, there's a part of me that craves a man in my life and the security of a committed relationship/marriage; I won't deny there are times when I feel lonely and alone and crave the intimacy and comfort of a stable, loving, romantic relationship. There are days when I truly ache for someone to come home to or to cook for or to snuggle up next to in bed before falling asleep.

But there's another part of me that loves being single and free and takes great pride in accomplishing things on my own. Its hard sometimes, and confusing and terrifying, but the sense of accomplishment, when it happens after ME doing what needs to be done and taking care of what needs to be taken care of, sometimes alone, sometimes with the help of family and friends, that brings me so much satisfaction that I couldn't imagine having attained it any other way. Or having to do it according to someone else's standards or wants.

Its a fine line I walk, between wanting to be with someone and liking things just as they are, thank you very much.

Some don't understand that.

I have relatives and friends who say they couldn't stand to live alone; that they would be afraid to be on their own; others who think its abnormal. That I should be trying harder to find a man, any man. Who cares about standards or what I want. Just find someone so I'm not alone anymore. After all, I'm not getting any younger, right?

Its impossible to explain or defend my lifestyle to THEM.

The bottom line: I don't want to be single forever. I do want to get married one day and have someone to come home to, to cook for, to give me backrubs and bring me flowers for no reason. But I can't give up who I am or what I want either; so if that means waiting a little longer, or maybe even not finding that, then I'm okay with that.

Because, even if I were in a relationship with a seemingly great guy, but one who wouldn't let me be who I was or do the things I need/want to do, I'd be less happy than if I were alone.

I know this because I also have many friends and acquaintances who tell me -- "if you don't want to have kids (which I don't), then don't get married. Its not worth it."

That speaks volumes to me; and makes me realize there are plusses and minuses to both lifestyles. Finding which works best for me, I guess, is the challenge.

So I answered my co-workers question by saying I couldn't put up with someone who was controlling or who would expect me to take on the old-fashioned, traditional, wifely roles, because that is just not me. I need my freedom and my independence and I need someone who trusts me enough and the relationship to allow me to be who I am and to do what I want or need to do. Someone who isn't going to expect my career or life to take a backseat to theirs. Someone who won't expect me to give up my identity or life in order to be a part of theirs.

A male co-worker immediately piped up that relationships take compromise. I agreed; its just that I could not be the one expected to do all of the compromising. I would be miserable and in the end, it just wouldn't work.

There are many men out there, who will talk the party line but don't walk the talk. I've dated quite a few of them. They say they're willing to compromise, and maybe in the beginning, they give on a few small things, but in the end, things have to go according to their ideals, and not yours I'm always glad when I'm able to see through the facade.

I do sometimes wonder if I ever will find someone. I question my standards and my pickiness and wonder if perhaps my expectations are too high.

At the end of the day, though, the reality is this: I don't want a fixer-upper or challenge or a high-maintenance type. Likewise, I don't want someone who is looking for someone who will allow him to have total control in the relationship. And no way I could ever be the nurturing, domestic, June Cleaver-type who would clean the house and pick up his socks and bake homemade bread and cookies each week without complaint. I'm way more complex than that.

I want a partner, a teammate. Someone to share my life with; not a sponge that is going to suck up my life blood and absorb me into their life.

He needs to be sensitive and strong; genuine; honest; ambitious and hard working; encouraging, nurturing, but willing and able to stand up to me; I don't want a wimp; he needs to have his own life and ambitions; we should complement each other and maybe sometimes compete with each other, but at the end of the day know that we 110% support each other and will be there for one another if things don't work out according to plan.

And I'd do the same. I'm not asking for anything that I myself can't, or won't, give.

Most importantly, would be love. They say Love Conquers All. And although I honestly have to say I've seen more unhappy relationships than happy ones, when I do see a happy one, it more than makes up for all the unhappy ones and makes me realize its worth the risk. Its what encourages me to keep on trying.

I think it's why we all keep trying and I hope one day, that I'm one of those lucky ones.

Subliminal messages

I hadn't turned my cell phone on in a couple of days -- because basically, I'm not the type of person who has to be constantly in touch with people every second of every day. Sometimes, I like the fact that I can't be reached.

But when I finally did turn it on, I got the low battery beep and plugged it in to charge. Then I heard the message beep.

So I dialed my voicemail and had a listen.

It was my friend Lori, wanting to check the date of a concert we're planning on attending next month. And also, calling because she was bored -- not because she needed to know the date right that second.

But I LOVED, LOVED, LOVED what she said next. "Well, I guess you're probably at the gym right now sweating your butt off, which is why you didn't answer, so just give me a call when you can."

This past year, I did join a gym, but haven't exactly been taking full advantage of my membership benefits. I've actually gone weeks without a single visit. But in the past couple of weeks, in addition to my sudden domestic urges, I've also been on the health wagon -- eating better, drinking plenty of water and going to the gym with renewed zeal. Meaning, I'm aiming for 5 visits a week, but will not allow myself any less than 3.

And it shows. I feel better, and I swear, my thighs aren't jiggling quite as much. I know that's impossible -- but hey, whatever it takes to keep the motivation going, right?

So, when I got Lori's message, I had to smile. I liked being the type of person that someone would assume would be at the gym sweating her butt off on a Wednesday after work.

Wrinkle-free

There is so much I should be doing right now, but I just really NEEDED to blog. Haven't done so in a couple of weeks and for some reason, just can't go any longer.

Funny, when I started a blog, I wasn't sure it was something I should be doing, or wanted to be doing. Sharing my thoughts, daily trials and tribulations, and 'musings' didn't seem like something that should be available on the web for public consumption -- even though I told no one about it, and I doubt very many, if any, are reading it.

That being said, there has been a change in me over the past couple weeks. I've entered a new phase. Nothing drastic, really, but its lasted more than just a day or two, and its made a difference in my daily life.

Lately, I've been feeling very domestic.

I'm checking color palettes in preparation for some Fall painting I plan on doing in my home office, and eventually, my living room.

I've been going home from work and cooking dinner, instead of picking something up on the way home, or settling for a nuked hot dog and bag of microwave pop corn.

I've grocery shopped and bought healthy, raw foods, that require preparation --- things like fresh vegetables, lean meats, whole wheat pasta and whole grain breads and fruit -- instead of processed, semi-prepared, microwaveable, convenience foods.

I've been bringing a healthy lunch to work instead of grabbing a chili dog or Big Mac, and

I'm actually ironing my clothes. This is perhaps, the biggest change and totally inexplicable.

The past couple of years, I have gone to great lengths to avoid ironing -- racing to the dryer to get clothes out before the cool-down cycle and immediatley hanging them on hangers; hanging blouses in the bathroom while I showered; wearing cardigans or blazers over wrinkled tops; or even, (gulp) wearing something that was fairly wrinkled and telling myself I was only going to be sitting at my desk in the office that day and no one important would see me, and maybe, just maybe, some of the wrinkles would fall out as I wore the blouse or skirt or pants.

The funny thing is, as I rediscovered the past couple weeks, is how much I've always liked to iron. Weird, but true.

It started when I was 12; I went to Catholic school and we were required to wear pastel-colored button-down, Oxford-style blouses with our green plaid uniforms. Mom decided it was time I learned how to iron my own clothes.

Initially, it was a pain, but the Sunday ritual soon became something I actually liked to do. Hearing the hiss as drips of water hit the hot metal surface of the iron, watching the wrinkles magically disappear from sleeves and collars; the clean, soothing, warm smell of re-heated fabric softener and steam. Hanging up a week's worth of freshly ironed blouses in the closet.

These days, I don't do my ironing on Sunday nights. Heck, as I just confessed above, its something that up until a couple of weeks ago, I only did when absolutely necessary -- as in, an article of clothing looked like an accordion; or it had sat in the dryer for a few days and no amount of extra drying could make it anywhere near wearable; or I had an interview or important meeting with higher-ups.

But one day last week, I wanted to wear a favorite pair of cotton pants and they were so very wrinkled no amount of laziness or lateness or rationalizing could justify my not ironing them.

So, I dug my iron out of the closet, filled it with water and plugged 'er in.

The initial hiss of the steam only made me dread the process as it was a stifling 76 degrees already, at only 8 a.m. But it had to be done.

As I started in on the job, my focus shifted from the heat and my annoyance at having to iron, to watching as the wrinkled fabric suddenly became smooth and straight. The Spring Rain fabric softener I had used was revived by the steam pumping out of the iron and filled the room, and suddenly, I found myself taking longer than necessary to complete the task.

"Gosh, I forgot how much I love to iron" I remember thinking.

And now, its part of the daily ritual. For the past 6 days in a row, I've ironed each morning. Savoring that self-righteous feeling, and yes, feeling a little bit proud, as I put my wrinkle-free clothes on and unplug my iron.

While I doubt I'll ever go back to the Sunday ironing ritual where I sometimes stood at the ironing board for a good hour or more, ironing a week's worth of clothing, I've found that spending a few minutes ironing the day's clothing is actually kind of a nice way to ease into the morning.

If only all of life's problems couldn't be resolved as quickly and easily as wrinkled clothing.