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2010: It was a year

What was special about this year?  Not much.  It just kind of flew by, probably because I was asleep most of the time.  A brief recap:

In January I quit therapy, not because I thought that I was well but because my psychologist Marsha was no longer covered by my insurance.  I was still hella depressed but I didn’t think it was necessary to find a new therapist and start the process all over again.  I could have gone back to Gene, a previous therapist I’d gone to off and on for eight years, but my ex-boyfriend had started seeing him (yeah, what a great idea that was – referring him to Gene).  What if the ex and I crossed paths in the waiting room?  No thanks. 

A goal that I was still working on from the latter part of 2009 – to go out and do more things on my own.   I went to a ton of performing arts events – theatre, dance, concerts, opera.  As a result, my credit card bill shot through the roof and I began the year of no-spending.  Which meant not going out, not doing anything.  I ended a friendship in January, so the not going out part was easy.  I became housebound except for work and the occasional dinner with a friend I don’t like that much. 

I went on two first dates in May.  One with a guy I’ll call Peter (that’s actually his real name).  One with PR.  It was clear from the start that PR and I were not a romantic match, so instead of dating we had sex.  He was a little too blunt and critical, and I spent the majority of the five-month-long “relationship” feeling particularly bad about myself.  I proved to myself that I am a woman after all (surprise!)– that sex isn’t that great when there’s no emotional connection to accompany it.  With each time I became less and less interested, until I was just done.  I never told PR that I was done, but he didn’t question my withdrawing from him so I assume the feeling (or lack of feeling) was mutual. 

Peter and I went out five times.  We had sex on date #5 and I never heard from him again.  Wow. 

For the rest of the year my dating life was practically non-existent.  I’m actually consulting my calendar as I write this part because I can barely remember faces, much less names in this year’s First and Second Dates Club.  There was Christina.  We actually went out several times, but I felt nothing for her and, as friends, we bombed because she was just too busy.  What really struck me about her was that she hardly laughed.  And when I was being silly or making a joke she would ask “What do you mean?”  Then there was Gina.  She was someone I could see myself dating.  The problem – she’d just lost a hundred pounds and was on a quest to get the boys that she could never get as a fat girl.  Too bad, that one.  Then there was what’s-her-name (I honestly don’t remember her name) who, well into her forties, was sleeping with a bunch of 21-year-old emo boys.  She also had a phobia about driving beyond city limits, and lived with her mother. 

In my calendar there’s an entry for an 11:30 with Cindy.  I don’t know what that’s about.  Who’s Cindy?

Oh my goodness – Wendy’s spicy chicken sandwiches are really spicy.  I’m on fire.

Review over.  No wait.  Goals for 2011:  Continued no-spending.  Wear make-up more often.  Stop sleeping so much.  Give up the obsessions with French bread and butter, SpaghettiOs, and Kraft Macaroni and Cheese.  Find the fountain of youth for Billy so that he’ll live forever.  Start putting the ice cubes in the glass BEFORE filling with beverage (it’s so damn messy otherwise).  Listen to music other than Ryan Adams.  Keep up the flossing regime.  And, last but not least, be happy.       

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