9:12 p.m. - Saturday, Dec. 29, 2007
What I just now did is pay almost fifty freakin' dollars to subscribe for a month at Ch3m15try.com because some guy (who probably isn't even a real person but just a profile generated by the Ch3m15try.com people in order to sucker people into subscribing) indicated he was interested in me, and you have to subscribe to respond to anyone who's interested in you. What the hell am I doing? — I thought I was never going on another date in my entire life (I promised this to myself after my last, horrendously awkward and miserable date). Of course, if this guy isn't real I can keep my promise.
What have I been doing all this time? Rapid cycling, that's what. Up and down. High and low. Alternately ecstatically happy and suicidally depressed, often several times in the same day. Fucking crazy. I seem to be better now.
I was very unhappy that Mr. M&G and I couldn't be friends. It wouldn't matter to a normal person, but, of course, I'm not normal. When you're a social phobic and very isolated, and you find someone whose company you actually enjoy, that's a rare event. About a week after the work on my house was finished, Mr. M&G stopped by to pay me a surprise visit. Poor thing. He showed up, stayed and chatted, and went away again without having said or done anything improper, but I know he was thinking improper things. (Dear Mr. M&G: a woman can see where you're focusing your eyes. If it's on her cleavage, she can tell.) Needless to say, I was thinking improper things also, but I neither said nor did anything wrong. During the course of our conversation, he mentioned some articles of furniture he'd built recently, so I asked if he would be willing to try to make glass doors for my bookcase. He measured the bookcase and said he'd get back to me. Then he went away, calling a cheery good-bye out the window of his truck as he drove away.
A little voice inside me said, "You're never going to see him again," but I didn't believe it. I really hoped we could get over the temporary insanity and just be friends.
I haven't seen or heard from him since. At the first big snowfall, when I knew roofing season was over, I left him a phone message reminding him of the bookcase doors. No response. I'm never going to see him again, obviously. Too bad. As I said, I was very unhappy, but I'm over it now.
All the work that had to be done to repair my house, garage and fence — all the dealing with contractors and other people (a third of whom don't return your calls, another third of whom don't show up when they said they would, and the last third of whom do show but that means you can't take your nap, and you're SO tired) — had me so stressed out that I ordered another self-hypnosis CD, "Creating Inner Peace and Calm." I can't say it created any inner peace and calm, but it's nice and I like listening to it last thing before I go to sleep.
So anyway, there I was rapid cycling, and at the same time my sex drive was raging to such a degree that I began to think I must have a tumor on my hypothalamus or whatever part of the brain regulates the sex drive. I thought: I'm probably going to die, but what a way to go! I was getting hot and bothered at all hours of the day. I was practically having an orgasm on the train just thinking about ... certain things. Heh-heh. Folks, this went on for weeks. It was fun! It was also crazy.
My sex drive has greatly calmed down now, but it's not playing dead the way it had been for years and years. Has the sleeping giant finally awakened? I would really like this change to be permanent, but with me, nothing seems permanent. The giant will probably go to sleep again.
One more thing: in spite of my earlier rant against fiction, I participated in National Novel Writing Month and "won" with 50,600 words. Yes, the first few days I had to hold my nose and force myself to write fiction, but after a while I got into it and had fun.
And fun is good, as long as no one gets hurt.