On Saturday, I walked around London Zoo for a good five hours. I even enjoyed it, although the tiger was literally pacing back and forth in his enclosure, and the lions looked even more bored than they do on the Discovery Channel. I couldn't help feeling that these animals deserve a little hunting action. Aren't there too many deer in the suburbs, anyway?
But, although the baby gorilla was completely fascinating, I didn't really start writing this post to tell you about my adventures at the zoo, no matter how cute the Emperor Tamarinds are (they have mustaches! Great, big, long, droopy staches!). It was in fact my third date with A. By the end of the second date, I had already pretty much realized that I wasn't feeling it, but I was so desperate to avoid the "he seems like he likes me so therefore there must be something wrong with him" trap and it would have been so nice if I did like him that I went on one more date. But pretty quickly I realized that yes, he really is kind of boring, too ready to agree with everything I say (even if it contradicts what he had previously just said), and too desperate to fill any silence that even I could not handle the overload of bad jokes -- and I'll laugh at almost anything!
But for the last couple of weeks, the whole thing had made me so much more anxious than it warranted that I wondered what exactly was going on. Then on Saturday morning I woke up after an anxiety filled nightmare. I had dreamt that Alex and I were getting back together again, and then he was breaking up with me again. In this dream I screamed and pulled my hair and slapped him with that bottomless rage that I only ever experience in dreams -- that wild, desperate, I-know-I'm-making-this-worse-but-I-can't-stop-myself rage -- and I woke up sweaty and out of breath. And it all made sense, my reluctance to write off A and my simultaneous anxiety that he was a boring toad... Obviously, I am terrified of being hurt again. The fact that my subconscious had to give me night sweats for me to realize this is sad but telling... And, of course, it was too late then to back out of date number three, so I went anyway and tried to enjoy the Meet the Monkeys exhibit and shrug off the constant banter from the peanut gallery.
I'm being rather harsh but it feels so good to actually know what I feel, for sure, and to know that I'm not just over-reacting to a fear of intimacy but actually just not interested that I will allow myself this chance to be horrible.
I haven't been very kind to myself recently, looking in the mirror and frowning at the bulging over love handles and pot belly that I see... I have to remind myself that, no matter how much I really might need to lose ten (or even fifteen) pounds, I still need to be kind and gentle with myself, and not take every opportunity to look in the mirror and call myself fat. I had escaped this particular female pitfall for most of my life, partly because until five years ago I was always skinny and partly because I do genuinely love my body and the pleasures that it gives me -- the feeling of water on naked skin, the soft squishyness of plump boobs, the top of a foot rubbing against the back of a calf in a comforting repeated motion (it's like my version of sucking my thumb, I think!). I do love all those things, and going only on touch my pot belly is soft and comforting... but I can't help wanting to not bulge over my jeans in a bad case of muffin top. No more how feminist I may be, this is still true.
Sometimes I have to fight the paranoid feeling that someone is mad at me, or that I've disappointed in some way. But sometimes it's based on reality -- remember the friend who dumped me a few months ago? -- and that makes it hard not to be paranoid in all situations. I have another friend, whom I love dearly, and have done for almost fifteen years... she's been too busy to see me for the last two months. Is she really too busy? Or have I somehow mortally offended her? I try to check off all the usual friendship-ending acts a person can do and can't find any that apply (I haven't slept with her boyfriend, or brother, or father; I haven't tried to sabotage her job; I haven't spread malicious rumours or posted anything about her on the internet)... so what? Is she just bored of me? Have I somehow undermined our friendship with some selfish, unthinking, stupid act? A girl could go mad!!
Anyway, this has been rather a random assortment of not-very-cheerful thoughts! On the good news front, Paris was amazing, my friend Val at least is not mad at me, Noa is crawling already, I (yes, me!) taught a British person about the NBA, one of my little munchkins made some progress connecting vowel sounds with letters, and my head did not explode despite how stressful wednesday and thursday were... all very good things!
I miss many people, and of course my family very much, but today I miss my girls the most -- Maggie, Alyson, Ariella, Barbara, Erin, Rebecca (and her girls), Valentina, Mom -- I hope you are all well and smiling.
Love, E
