Gal Anonymous

On sleeping with crazy people while traveling.

I travel sometimes. And when I do, I often meet other people who want to sleep with me. And I am always, always perplexed, mostly because I have misguided ideas about how attractive I am. As you may guess, this situation usually does not work in my favour.

On this occasion, I met someone who was incredibly attractive of mixed-race heritage with a sexy British accent. I could have honestly listened to him read the phone book all day and been content.

On paper, this person was fantastic. They had a master’s in linguistics, spoke several languages and taught literacy to children in a small rural town. And they wanted to have sex with me twice a day. 

Did I mention this person had done bikram yoga everyday for a year and a half before we met? His body was like a Greek god.

Anyways, this person wanted passionate, incredibly sex (with me!) all the time while encouraging me to spend heaps of money in a fascinating, metropolitan city I had never been to before. 

There were only a few problems. One, was that he incredibly selfish with time, and I rarely called him on it. In fact, the one time I came close, he got mad at me for snapping at a lady selling ugly leatherwares. Apparently I should have let her know I was interested more kindly.

Two, he got frustrated when I would pass out at night after sex. I was only getting 4.5-5 hours a night (if that) in between the morning and evening sex sessions, and we were walking around the city all day. Of course I was exhausted.

And finally, for someone in their mid-30s, he had no idea about sex. His naivete nearly gave me a UTI, not mention slowed down our search for the morning-after pill.

To top it all off, he went on some 10-day silent retreat and called off any possibility of meeting up in the future by saying, “Gal, I really want love and happiness, but I’m just not ready for it.” Horse shit. The original plan was we were going to try and meet in Asia (as the ridiculous mid-point of each of our home bases) a few weeks from now. I had even researched flights in the United States that would require me to take an overnight bus first. 

In closing, dating people while traveling is fun! Just don’t expect anything afterwards. And always be upfront with what you want as well. None of that “let me bury my true feelings about your ridiculous search for [insert cultural item here] so we don’t fight.” Better to speak up than come home with massive amounts of resentment and realize you wasted your time for the sake of a temporary relationship.

On liking someone

I’m dating someone now. Someone wonderful, thoughtful, kind, patient and funny, who doesn’t think I need makeup ever and survived meeting my parents at my grandmother’s wake after researching ethnic funeral customs online.

I know he’ll take care of me, I know he’ll treat me well and so far, he never makes me feel taken for granted.

And yet, I still think about the guy from last October. The one who kissed me in my car and made me feel like fireworks were going off in my brain. Who told me he thought the world of me, but we couldn’t date, because he was already dating someone else.

He picked the other girl. My guy chose me. So why do I always wonder? 

Real question

When someone compliments you on your kissing in the middle of a really great makeout, do you just say “Thanks”?

Lately I’ve just replied with “I know” and a huge grin. To some people this might seem arrogant or cocky, but to me it’s just the truth. I pay attention, I vary it up, I know what I’m doing and I’m proud of it.

Or maybe this is the drugs talking.

Unforgivable

The thing that breaks my heart the most and why I’m so passive lately - is that when my mother decided to completely give up the idea of divorcing my father, she basically told my sister and I all the shit that we went through the last five years, all the crap she said she finally understood about how he treated us, how she finally understood, that is all a sham.

My father says horrible things to everyone in our family. Still does. My mother revealed terrible, awful things about my father and their marriage during their separation this year. 

But to her, being alone is too scary of an idea. So after their trip to Hong Kong, she decided to move back into their room and end the separation.

I am furious at her. She poured out uncomfortable, awkward shit to my sister and I that children should never know about their parents. That I can never unlearn. Things that have changed the way I view my father forever. For fuck’s sake, she even mentioned their sex life, something that will require years of therapy on top of my already decades’ high pile.

It’s right back to excusing all the crap he does, all the stuff he doesn’t do (clean, cook, wash, parent) and calling my sister and I the nit-picky ones.

Fuck. that. shit.

Why I bake so much

People ask me all the time why I show up everywhere with cookies.

When you work a desk job, it’s hard to feel like you’re actually doing something. I poke keys all day, I live in Microsoft office, but I don’t really feel like I’m being productive. I rarely get to hold the stuff I accomplish, so there’s no sense of having accomplished anything. (And yet, I think my boss is crazy for printing out every little thing to edit in pen.)

So I bake. All the time.

Baking is all I do lately - I’ve made gingerbread, chocolate chip from the grocery store, home-made chocolate chip and now oatmeal craisin. I’ve used tons of flour and actually have to go to the grocery store because I’m running out of eggs and have no more parchment paper or light brown sugar. 

Maybe because my family life isn’t great. Maybe because I’m confused about what the hell I should do with my career, stop waffling and just go at it instead of being so hesistant.

But for now I revel in the comfort of baking. The results may not always turn out the way I want them to, but as long as I have supplies and time, I can go at it again. Real life rarely offers the same kind of opportunity for a do-over.

A regret

I regret not taking university more seriously.

I went to an open house today for a grad school program. Somehow, in my tiny human brain, I figured that despite my mediocre grades I could apply to grad schools with my enthusiasm, my gumption, my weird ability to remember random facts and my out-of-school experience.

Turns out I could, I just needed a B to B+ minimum average to get my application even considered for all that other stuff.

So for now, that means no grad school for this Gal. It’s a bit frightening. I feel a bit like a failure, especially so many people around me apply or near-finish or works towards it. It’s the young person’s academic version of Keeping Up with The Jones, only now everyone’s fighting to see how many pricey pieces of fancy paper they can accumulate.

Or, you know, I could just apply to a job in Nowheresville. I’m young, I have savings, I don’t really have commitments. There’s nothing stopping me from sticking my head out and trying something crazy like that. Except myself.

Oh right. That.

Fuck.

Frugality vs. being cheap

I don’t know if it’s laziness, extreme frugality, or both, but I am increasingly eating more and more leftover catering food at work. Today I actually planned for it by bringing two plain pieces of toast to work and slathering leftover black beans and hummus on them for my lunch.

Now I’m eyeing the remains of a fruit plate for a dessert and thinking about bringing some of the hummus home with me. 

Who knows how deep the rabbit hole will go.