hell month, part two: the musical.

I’ve had a hard time dealing with stress since say, about 1989. Up until then  I ate stress omelets for breakfast. I stuck out my chin and ordered stress jalapeno burritos for lunch! Now? If I can’t open a Diet Coke bottle because of my fibro, I totally flip out and weep profusely and shake my fist at the world, blaming everyone from my mother to the Pope. And you know what? I don’t like that, but that’s just how I’ve gotten.

These last three weeks? Its been the freaking Flip Out Weeping Fist-Shaking Olympics. Something I haven’t mentioned here, at least I don’t remember, but then again, I’m usually somewhat medicated so I might have, is that my mother has cancer. She found out waaaaaaaaay back in December, but did she do anything about it? NO. Well let me rephrase that. She bitched and complained and moaned about the doctor who was supposed to treat her. Why? Because when he was discussing her cancer, you know, a very serious illness, he had the utter, the UTTER gall not to smile and she was very offended and thought he was mean and wanted another doctor and a second opinion and….okay, she also wanted to keep that first week of June open for her 80th birthday party….the one starring Gay Elvis.


Me? If I heard the word “cancer”, I would have been busting down the door, grabbing the doctor’s pant leg and pleading for a SURGERY DATE like yesterday….Because you know….like fucking CANCER !?!?!!

But not my mom. Why? It was all about The Party!

Was I upset? Yeah, just slightly. Like every single fucking day for the last seven months. But unfortunately there was no talking her out of waiting. Even for a life saving cancer operation. 

Anyways, she finally had her operation on July 9. Fortunately I was able to wait with my favorite aunt the whole day. I even had a chance (yippee!!) to grovel and borrow some money from her that day since my car has been having some substantial problems*. (* Hell Month, part II). I just edited this whole part out. Just suffice to say, I fixed some things, but I’m still driving a car that has some really major problems.

Where’s Oprah and all her FREE cars when you need them!?

Anyways, the day my mom got home from the hospital there was a frantic message on my machine. She wanted me to drive a 34 miles round trip to her apartment, in my ready-to-break car, to carry her suit case 25 feet into her apartment from her sister’s car.

Am I stressed? A little. Do I feel guilty? A lot. Why yes. Thanks for asking.

Now during all this I had started a writing relationship with a guy from sMatch.com. He started writing me about 5 days before my mom’s operation. He was a British guy. Nice looking. Close by. He didn’t write like a retard, i.e.,  “I like 2 meet U 2-day. U seem niccce.” And my goodness, he even made a bit of money. So I told him I was leaving sMatch.com, which I did on 7/10, and we continued to write every day after that, with our real e-mail addresses. I’ll just call him The Science Guy.

In an effort not to screw this up, I did askfor pointers on British men from the stunning Stepfie over at Stepfordtart@diaryland.com ,  since all I know about British men comes from James Bond movies, those in supporting roles in Judy Densch movies and John Cleese.

So here I’ve been the last three weeks juggling a cancer operation mom, a car about ready to shatter if I hit a pot hole and writing to some brainy, bird-watching British Guy who was actually showing some interest in me. How do I know? Well as soon as I told him I had an art show downtown, he immediately went down and saw it! Can you believe that?

And what happened next was realllly  weird. The day I went to the hospital to wait for my mom’s surgery I saw this guy walk by in the cafeteria. I just happened to glance at him, since I really did have more serious things on my mind. Yes, I really WAS worried about my mom, despite how I sound here. And who do you think it was? Go ahead guess! It was the British guy from sMatch.com!!! And I didn’t even have a clue he worked there…at that point. I just knew he did science stuff.

So I wrote him later that night and asked him if he had been wearing a black and gray striped shirt and gray pants and did he walk through such and such place that day and he wrote back and said yes. He was astounded at my total recall. Me too!!!  Especially since I usually can’t even remember my password to MySpace.

Come to find out he worked on the floor just below where my mom was. Like WTF? Or as my former co-worker “J” would say, talk about synchronicity!  My mom’s having a cancer operation and her room is right over the guy I’m writing to on sMatch.com??? Like how likely is that?? I really did think that was synchronicity.

So finally after 10-12 days of writing Science Guy, we finally went out on a date a week ago Friday. It only had to be the hottest and most miserably humid day of the year with an Ozone alert. I was a wreck most of the day. Did I have to say that? Probably not. I’m wittykitty.

Anyhoo, I also had my mom calling me up all afternoon, telling me how the visiting nurses had forgotten something. And she wishes she had a salad. And she really needed stamps. And I’m like holding the phone, trying to pluck my Frida Kahlo unibrow. I finally managed to get 2 hours to myself right before the date and watched my favorite Woody Allen movie “Manhattan”.  I just needed a brief reprieve to perhaps remind myself that neurotic people can find love too. Thanks, Woody!

I finally left for Science Guy around 5:50. I briefly called my mom asking her to wish me luck and she told me about her physical therapy with her nurse and how young the nurse thought she was. And how she was able to touch her foot to her knee or something. I finally hung up realizing it was hopeless expecting any kind of support.  Although she did ask me if I had remembered to brush my hair. OMG!  I like totally forgot!  Really? I should brush my hair for a date? No way!  No feck-ing way!!!

Anyways, Science Guy was very nice looking. But very serious. He suggested Indian food instead of pizza at the door of the restaurant and I just asked if it was spicy and he kinda h’ruumphed and said never mind.  So we had pizza. It was incredibly hot in the restaurant. It was the same place I had brought The Village Guy last summer.

I BRINGZ ALL MY “MEN” HERE. (scratching my crotch and belching).

Anyways, conversation was really hard for me. He asked me about my art, but my throat was all tight and constricted. All the drugs I had taken just before I left weren’t working. He wasn’t real loquacious either. I actually was so intimidated, I couldn’t even make any jokes. Me! Can you imagine the Ingmar Bergman Version of wittykitty?

And when he asked what I did besides art, I knew what he meant. What do you do for a living. You know…a real job. So I said I was on disability. The date seemed to end shortly after that. I suppose I could have lied and said I was the CEO of WordPress or a hand model or something. I actually didn’t think he was bad. He spoke lovingly of his kids. I think we were both nervous though. I wrote him a thank you note the next day but got back the obligatory “I didn’t feel any sparks” thingie. 

How many times have I gotten that? Too many times, I’m afraid. I’m not a freakin’ Zippo lighter you know.  You, my friend,  were the first British person I’ve ever met, who didn’t have a sense of humor. I guess I could have sent him an e-mail, regarding this,  since it was clearly stated on his sMatch.com profile that he had one. A Sense of Humor, that is. 


 Thanks for your help, Stepfie. You were very sweet.  At least it gave me a reason to shave my legs this summer. Booya!



19 Responses to “hell month, part two: the musical.”

  1. xat Says:

    Oh honey! I’m so sorry that the one humorless British fellow found you. However, better to nip it in the bud before you start writing your married name on every bit of blank paper in the house…not that I’ve ever done anything like that. *ahem*

    However, yay! for going on a date. That is a big step for you–and even though the spark didn’t za-zoom with this guy–you went out for supper with a stranger. You’ve done something that scares you, and that’s always good.

    I am hoping that everything goes well with your mom. I am also very much hoping that your sturm und drang quotient has been met for the year, and the rest of 2008 will be much more smooth.


  2. Pam Says:

    Bleah on Humorless Brit Guy. And I hope everything goes well with your mom. Hang in there!

  3. LA Says:

    As always, brilliantly written, dear heart! Hope your mom is mending and your car is still rolling. ~LA

  4. Anna Says:

    Witty, you are SO brave and such an inspiration to me to get out and give things a go, no matter how scary. British men are generally boring cunts, tedious and awful and not to be recommended. All the straight ones anyway. and not Smash or MFV, obviously. I wish you all the best through these hard times with your mom and all. Hugs xxxx

  5. artgnome Says:

    I think you are one of the bravest people I know and Oprah should give you a car, a house, and Stedman while she is at it.

    Men that online date are superficial and full of themselves and constantly choose financial worth and looks over character. That’s why they are online and can’t get a date any other way, if you ask me.

    I am praying all the best for you, especially against the fear, worry and anxiety that can ruin our lives when we are not strong enough to push it aside. I hope you find reprieve and some victory over it soon. peace to your spirit, xo.

  6. stepfordtart Says:

    I know we’ve already ‘spoken’ about this but I have to disagree with artgnome up there. I know several nice kind personable men (and women) who have had very successful online dating experiences – Lee and Anne-marie and BadFriend and P are two couples Ive written about often in my diary who found each other over the interweb. Im sorry it stresses you out so much, especially when you have other crappy stuf in your life to deal with, too. Sending many ((hugs)) over the cyber pond to you, dear witty. s x

  7. crankygirl Says:

    This sounds like a typically m dot com date to me. When they decide that you aren’t Polly Perfection their little egos wilt.

  8. karmacat Says:

    I think those no-sparks-in-the-first-ten-minutes guys are usually better off when paired up with a blow-up doll. Enjoy that mental image of Science Guy as you say “good riddance.”

    I hope your mother is doing well.

  9. awittykitty Says:

    I don’t think internet dating is hopeless. I personally know of some success stories too. I just haven’t been able to hit the right connection. Or the men I write to don’t see the possibilities. I knew Science Guy wasn’t right in the first five minutes too. So I’m not blaming him. Just don’t list features in your profile that you don’t have. OK?

  10. HRT Says:

    Maybe he just left his humour in his other trousers?

    Is it wrong that I’m picturing Mr. British Guy looking a bit like a rejected extra from My Fair Lady? Complete with the slate grey top hat, monacle, bad teeth and a pocket watch.

    Ok, maybe it’s not My Fair Lady, but it’s my imagination so I can call it whatever I like, damnit.

  11. warcrygirl Says:

    First of all, prayers to your mom that she’s healthy and cancer-free soon. Second, a Brit with NO sense of humor? I thought those types got their heads lopped off by the Queen or something. Sorry you’re light on the mom support, if you ever need to vent about mom-issues you know where to find me.

  12. DanjerusKurves Says:

    OK, the date wasn’t so hot, but GOOD FOR YOU for even making the effort to go on a date!!! Pulling yourself out of your comfortable little world can be terrifying and hard work, but you did it!! So, shame on him for failing to demonstrate his country’s renowned sense of humour. Bloody wanker.

  13. Poolagirl Says:

    Thanks for the support, sweetie. We February 12th people need to stick together!

  14. Kat Says:

    “I totally flip out and weep profusely and shake my fist at the world, blaming everyone from my mother to the Pope.”

    Witty, could that be menopause talking? That sounds like me lately. I had to warn my coworkers that the doc put me on “the hormones.” They have been calling me Rosemary’s Baby for a couple of weeks now. It’s awful, and I sometimes feel like Linda Blair moved into my head. Maybe you should get that checked. Just knowing what’s happening is helpful.

    I agree with Dangeruskruves’ comment re: good for you for overcoming your fear and pursuing dating. That is hard work, and my fingers are crossed that it pays off for you.

    Sending a prayer up for your Mom. kat

  15. geekbetty Says:

    gah. hell week indeed. that guy sounds like a douche – for not seeing how great you are, at least. maybe you should have memorized monty python lines to quote?
    and I’m super proud of you for going on the date in the midst of your mom’s medical problems. I know you’re like me in the way that you can’t handle more than one crisis at a time, so even getting up the nerve to go ahead was brave of you.

  16. scotvalkyrie Says:

    Wow, with everything you had going on, you still went out on a date? Oprah AND Dr. Phil should give you a car just for doing something so stressful during a stressful time! Good for you! Now, if the guy hadn’t been such a twat, it would have been better for you. Your occupation IS “Artist”!

  17. Catlover Says:

    Lurker de-lurking here… I really enjoy your blog; you’re a wonderful writer.

    I’m writing to ask if you could share your tips about British guys. I have a MAD crush on someone who is British (we work in the same building, but have never really chatted–although we have graduated to acknowledging each other). I can’t figure him out. Is there anything I should know about British guys in general?! If you don’t mind sharing, I’d appreciate hearing how StepfordTart advised you.

    Thanks! (And congrats on your recent date. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I have to let you inspire me to finally “venture”…)

  18. pantrypuff Says:

    His loss.

  19. Seacreature Says:

    WOOOH WOOOH! You keep on goin’ thar, girl! You’re rackin’ up the dates now, aren’t you? That’s wonderful! It’s the only way to weed out the dickheads. And no, it’s not just you, there pah-LENTY of dickheads to be found out there. Just keep on weedin’.

    I’m so sorry to read about your moms cancer…best of luck to you guys while she’s going through this. And I’m also sorry to hear that the “new” car is failing. Hope you find a wad of cash in the street (you never know) so you can go get yourself a worthy witty kar.

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