I'm lazy as hell, but I wrote the following as an email to Dan, so it's going to read like an email to Dan. I'm not going to edit it; I'm just pasting it so that I can update you all on what I've been up to in the dating scene without actually having to write an entry that'd be essentially what I wrote a little while ago.

So here's the entire thing:

So you know I've been seeing Zak but I thought he wasn't very into me. He and I saw each other on Friday the 17th. I thought it went well but didn't hear from him on Saturday so I texted him on Sunday. Took him 5 hours to answer but he was playing in a golf tournament so I let it slide. I did, however, think that if he wanted date #5, he should take the initiative, so I waited.

And waited. And waited.

Finally Thursday rolls around and I have not heard from him, and I'm planning to go to this social event/drinks at a pub near his place with Caroline and Sophia, so I decide to invite him to join us. I know he won't come but I thought it'd give him the chance to suggest a better time for us to get together. He writes back an hour or so later and says that he's playing squash and having dinner with work colleagues and then he has to prepare for an exam. That's all he writes. Hmm. So I text back that he's even busier than I thought and that it's kind of hard for him to squeeze me into a schedule like that. Winking smiley face.

He writes back that we should try to get together during the weekend or Monday.

Me: Ok, sure, no pressure. How's Saturday?

Him: Maybe on Saturday. If not, Monday.

Me: Ok, sure, just let me know.

Saturday comes and goes and I hear nothing. Ditto Sunday, for that matter.

And I'd say that's the end of it but he did actually write today to say he can't meet tonight but how about Thursday? I'm busy on Thursday and suggested next week and then kind of threw in that it'd be nice to see him before he heads back to the US for Thanksgiving if he can't meet next week. He wrote back that we will meet next week. Mmm hmmm.

I'm not mad about it, just kind of over it. And thought it was over on his end and he was just letting it fade out. But writing to me and providing another time to meet suggests some level of interest but a weird communication problem.

So...kind of thought things were over and went to that social event on Thursday. Met a Portugese guy. Very, very cute. Very, very interesting. Unfortunately, only visiting Prague. He lived here for three years but has gone back to Portugal and was just here visiting for a week (flight back today).

But I felt like we had chemistry and we exchanged numbers, talked a lot, and we parted with him kissing my hand and saying it was a nice surprise to meet me and he'd be in touch.

I look him up on Facebook. He's friends with David. Also, he was saying things that were reminiscent of Chris so I called him out and...yes, he's well schooled in the seduction community. And, again, leaving to go back to Portugal. So...when he texted me Friday evening to ask me out for drinks on Saturday afternoon, I should've said no, because those were all bad signs but I was a bit giddy about him (will send you to his website so you can see him).

Anyway, had drinks on Saturday. That went well. We kissed a bit but not much and we were only together for about 2.5 hours because he needed to go to a dinner party and he asked me if I wanted to get dinner on Sunday or go to a movie. I chose the movie. 8 PM at a popular expat pub, so free movie, expensive drinks.

Aaaaaaand cut to WORST DATE EVER:

So movie starts at 8 and I decide that I will get there around 7:45 because that seems reasonable. And it's a good thing too because I get one of the last tables but I am a bit worried about him showing up because he hasn't contacted me all day and I'm worried that there was no confirmation. So I order a beer and I wait and wait and wait. I write and erase texts to him, thinking that I don't want to sound neurotic for asking if he's coming but wonder if he's coming. I finally send one about 8:05, and not 20 seconds later, he walks in. So, embarrassing, impatient text message sent and received. Nice.

I don't mind terribly that he's late and am just relieved that he's there. He tells me that he's invited others so he looks around for spare chairs but there aren't really going to be any because the place is packed. He orders a wine and then decides that we should move over to a table where he knows a couple of people. And so we do.

It's a boyfriend and girlfriend and he talks to the girl a bit and makes a joke that she doesn't find funny and he tries to play it off like she just doesn't get it but it's a really awkward moment.

Eventually the movie starts; he texts quite a bit throughout it. At one point, he leaves because his mom is calling (or whoever he tells me is his mom). His friends come and join us. They stay for about 5 minutes, tell him they're heading to another bar, and they leave.

The movie ends and these four film students who had been sitting on the floor come and join our table. One of them is a very pretty blonde girl from Florida. Andre introduces himself to all of them but he starts talking quite a bit to the blonde girl. He does, to his credit, try to engage me in their conversation but they start talking about a movie that I've not seen so I can't add anything. And then I feel like she's trying to shut me out.

He ends up GETTING HER EMAIL ADDRESS AND PHONE NUMBER. I realize at that point that I should leave. The part of me that has any self respect thinks he's crossed a line and I should maintain my dignity. The part of me that has no self respect thinks I should leave because she's prettier than I am and doesn't it suck for him to be stuck with me when he could be with her?

But his friends text and he wants to go meet them at the pub where they are, and he invites these four film students to join us but they're in a big group and don't want to join. Andre and I leave.

When we get outside, I tell him that that had never happened to me before. "What, me being social?" he said. He said that she really hit on him, but that doesn't explain his taking her number now, does it?

So we arrive at the second pub and it's packed. No free chairs. So he pulls up a stool beside his friends, slaps his hand on it, and tells me to sit there. So I do. And I spend a few minutes fiddling with my coat and purse, deciding where I can put them. I see him talking at the bar with someone and realize I should get myself a drink but he comes over as I'm standing and he hands me a beer. He leaves.

I sit on my stool so I'm like at least a foot taller than everyone else I'm with and sort of hover over them, trying to make small talk and trying to pretend like I'm really into the live music.

My eyes scan the room and I make eye contact with this guy named John who I never told you about, I think, but basically someone who does not like me one bit. He smiles sheepishly at me and waves and I hide my head in my hands. He strolls by later and I poke him in the arm and we talk for a bit. Turns out he was going to play at the open mic night but he canceled his song because I'm there and he can't sing in front of me. He tells me I'm very fake as all Americans are and he giggles while I tell him about what I've been up to. It felt like being mocked but I realize after the fact that I used to make him giggle because he was so attracted to me. So that's probably what it was but it felt awkward at the time.

Andre is going from table to table and talking with everyone. He knows everyone. Every now and then I'll feel his hand on my back and he's appeared to ask if I'm having fun. Yes, I'm having fun, I tell him.

Finally the crowd dwindles to the point where he's got nothing better than to talk to me. In all fairness, I do understand that he was only back for a week and wanted to see his friends and it was sort of sweet for him to invite me along and I think of his being friends with David and how David would never be seen in public with me and Andre was introducing me to lots of people so...there was something nice about that. And understandable that he couldn't give up an evening to date me. But it made me feel pretty crappy.

We end up kissing a little bit in the bar, and then he tells me that he wants to take me to a door frame (like an alcove, I guess) to kiss me more. So we end up making out like teenagers in the streets and then he says that if he still lived in that neighborhood, he'd invite me back to his place. But he's just visiting and sleeping on someone's sofa, so he says I have the control. And I say nothing. I do not invite him back to my place. We kiss a bit more and then we go for the night trams. His comes 15 minutes before mine and he says he wants to take it because otherwise he'd have to wait 30 minutes and I understand this entirely but then spend 15 minutes standing outside in the cold by myself. It's 2 am at that point.

I go home, feel like an idiot and want to cry.

THE END

I feel much better today. I went to the doctor yesterday afternoon, and then I got a good night’s sleep.

Also, Zak texted me. He asked how the last-minute conference organizing is going, and he updated me on his trip to Slovakia, which is where he is now and where he’ll be until Friday He had already told me this, and that, along with my trip to Copenhagen, made it obvious that we would not meet again for a while.

But I guess he’s still interested in me. The question now is whether I’m interested in someone who is so busy. But I needn’t worry about that now.

I talked to Chris last night. He was down in the dumps, because he’s in trouble at work. I think he must’ve been really dickish to someone in an effort to get “more power” and that person formally complained. Now Chris might be facing disciplinary action; he’ll know in a week, which suggests it’s serious, because there must be a meeting scheduled about it. I have no idea, really, what he did, but I have trouble imagining his getting fired over one instance. Especially when said instance happened at least a week ago, meaning it wasn’t such a big deal that it needed to be handled immediately.

Anyway, he said some things that I found irritating—his usual pickup/seduction crap—but he was open and sad enough that he revealed that he’s not been on a date since we broke up nor has he slept with anyone. He’s having trouble staying in a “set,” which basically means that he’s approaching women and being quickly shot down. He blames his weight gain (although, honestly, I’ve looked at the photos of us from when we first met and he was not that much thinner) and his losing his game. He hopes to get laid by the end of the year.

He seemed really pathetic. It’s this or his cocky bullshit. He used to be so fun. He’s destroying himself.

And he’s started drinking again. He made it a couple of months; at least that’s something. But he’s an alcoholic who needs help, and that is not for me to deal with. I tried to help him, and we all see where that got me.

Not! My! Problem!

Tonight I run my very last errands and then pack my bag for Copenhagen, because I’m going to try to leave my apartment by 5:30 am. I wish I were already back.

Yesterday, I responded to Chris’ text messages with something like, “If you’re going to do pickup, do it on someone else.” He wrote back that he wasn’t, and then I called his techniques “Pickup 101.” He said that I was wrong, but that he was wrong about me too, thinking I would be friendly to him. And that? Pissed me off like you would not believe.

Thankfully, it was well past the end of the work day and I could go home. Immediately. I drew myself a bath when I got home and cried. I still love him, and I felt rejected all over again. I just don’t know what to do with him. I know how bad he is for me, but I still want him so much. He has the potential to make me so happy and to make me feel so warm and loved. To make me feel so valued.

I texted him to apologize for being snippy and to tell him that I would be on Skype if he wanted to talk (actually, that was pre-cry). I called him, and he sent the call to voicemail after two rings.

And so I got home, cried, and turned on my Skype, knowing he wouldn’t show up. Which is why I decided to keep the date I would’ve otherwise cancelled to have an evening in by myself. My very first date after our breakup was a big Fuck You to Chris. (Gee, I'm not really ready for a relationship yet, am I?)

As expected, Chris didn’t show up on Skype, but he texted an apology just as I was heading out. I told him I waited for him for an hour on Skype, he didn’t show, and so I was going out. I think he thought I was bluffing, but I told him that we could talk later (he wanted to know when) and out I went.

I met this Czech guy named Ales. (Everyone reading this just mentally pronounced that like the drink; it’s the Czech form of Alex.) Two years in the Czech Republic and that was my first date with a Czech. And the first time I’ve ever had a date with someone younger than me. He’s 26 but he definitely seemed young to me.

Anyway, he was sweet, but I wasn’t attracted to him in the slightest and his English was pretty bad (words I had to translate for him include “East,” at least four weekdays, and “church”). (Also, I’m living in the Czech Republic so I don’t expect Czech people to speak English but it’s sort of a requirement for a boyfriend.)

We met in Nove Mesto and walked a route somewhat similar to two other dates I’ve been on—across the Charles Bridge, up towards the Castle, through it, around the Cathedral (or “church”), and then back down into Male Strana. He was prepared for this and brought a bottle of water. I dressed for sitting in a pub and have new blisters on my feet.

At one point on our way towards the Castle, we stopped to admire the city and he rolled himself a cigarette, offering me one. I declined and stared directly down at one of the restaurants where David used to be the sommelier. Diners were seated in a dimly-lit garden and being served by suited waiters. I wanted to be there, in that world, and not at a distance, as I was at that moment. As I always was.

When we got into Mala Strana, I wanted a drink, and so I decided that we would go to a pub with a beer garden that I’ve been to a handful of times. Ales told me that he couldn’t drink because he’s on antibiotics for a week, and somehow I knew he wasn’t going to order a drink, but I was thirsty and wanted a beer.

Czech service is generally pretty bad, but never have I been treated as poorly as I was last night. I ordered my beer from a waiter who sneered at us when Ales didn’t order and then told him to put away his water bottle, which he had casually placed on the table, because “this is a restaurant.” Another waiter came and conversed with Ales in Czech. I don’t know what was said, but I wonder if they didn’t want to serve us because only I was drinking. I wished that I had ordered two beers and drunk both of them myself—they’d never have known.

When my beer came, the waiter made a big presentation of setting it down in front of me and turning it around so that the handle was on the right-hand side, making flourishes and bowing as though he had just handed me something of great value. This was not good service; it was rude.

I considered that our patronage was a hassle to them and not worth their money, but Czechs barely tip for service, so it shouldn’t matter to them, really, how much I’m spending. This is, I think, why I was actually forced out a clothing store once when there were 5 minutes left before closing and I had items I wanted to purchase IN MY HANDS. The woman who took them couldn’t have cared less if I bought them; no commission for her and what did she care about the company? “We open at 9 tomorrow morning,” she told me and refused to let me purchase them.

When my beer was half empty, that second waiter came back to make rude comments to Ales, and so I said I would pay. I took out 100 crowns (roughly $5) and he reached for his money bag. I waved my hand. “No, no, it’s ok; it's for you.” He couldn’t believe it. “You want something else?” “No, it’s ok.”

The beer was 31 crowns. A 300% tip. But only $5, mind you. He left us alone after that.

I don’t normally do things like that, but I was hoping to teach him a lesson. That $3.50 tip was probably more than he got from the next two tables full of beer-guzzling men to pay. I wanted him to consider that, just because we didn’t look like valuable customers didn't mean we were worthless. Or perhaps he’d simply feel bad for being rude. I really don’t know, but it has to be a better strategy than glaring while paying exactly 31 crowns.

I’ve only done this once before and made sure to tell Ales that this is not something I do. I was just so angry at the service. The time before was years ago, in St. Louis. I went to a Korean nail salon for a manicure, and the woman pushed me into getting a pedicure too. I wanted a pedicure, but my feet were calloused and I was embarrassed. And understandably so. When she pulled my feet out of the bath to go to work, she started chitchatting and giggling with the other women. I don’t know for certain that they were talking about me, and it’s possible I was just being paranoid, but I felt like they were.

And so, after she finished my pedicure, it was time to pay so that when my manicure was finished, I could leave even if my nails weren’t dry. I gave her a $10 tip. Again, not a ton of money but much more than is recommended for such services. And for my manicure, she didn’t say a word to the other women. No giggling or chitchatting. I was suddenly a valued customer and human being.

I don’t like dangling money in front of people as an incentive to treat others nicely, but, for some, it seems to be the only motivator.

Anyway, we left the beer garden after that and Ales and I parted near a metro/tram station. As we were saying goodbye, I could see the wheels in his head turning as he was figuring out what kind of goodbye he was entitled to. He told me I had a nice smile and leaned in for a kiss, which fell sort of halfway on my lips and halfway on my cheek. Just a peck. That was plenty, and I was home a little before midnight.

He emailed me when he got home that it was a “sweet evening” and requested to see me on Saturday.

I got on Skype and talked to Chris. Until 4 am. Lots of flirting. He wants me to visit him in Vienna this weekend. It will not happen, and I am being very clear about it. Well, I didn’t tell him that I’m not coming because I made a hair appointment and Caroline is setting the hash trail on Sunday so I intend to be here, but I was clear that we need more time apart and I don’t want to meet him unless we are both clear on what we want and what we can provide for each other. Which may never happen.

Basically, I’m not an idiot but I am still in love with him and want him so badly. He will not be what I need, though. As he tried to woo me last night, I quoted his breakup email to him and how he needs another 5, 10, 15 years of “adventure.” He said that we could meet each other halfway, but he wants to be a pickup artist with a girlfriend. That is certainly not halfway. No, halfway is what? Living together with an open relationship? Living apart with a closed relationship? He hangs out with his pickup artist friends and flirts but doesn’t sleep with other women? I don’t like halfway.

It’s troublesome. We’re both so in love and so drawn to each other, but we’re incompatible.

And I can already predict the comments I will get on this entry but please know that I am sorting this out. I obviously have a strong attraction to assholes with a soft side. Is there a 12-step program for that?

I sort of have a date tonight with a photographer, but I think I am going to cancel it. I actually didn’t want to meet him for a date; he offered to photograph me and since I’m opportunistic (see also trip to Dubai), I said yes but he said tonight would be a drink and we could do photos on Saturday. Hmm.

Chris is doing a pickup maneuver on me called push-pull. He texted me just now after a couple days of silence (I reblocked him on Skype) with, “How about impressionism, btw? :-)” Or maybe it’s not even push-pull but I know what he’s doing to try to illicit conversation from me and I’m more annoyed than anything.

I talked to both Dan and Kev about possibly going to Dubai and both were pissed at me. I really don’t think they understand it from my point of view. I either seem incredibly opportunistic and like I’m using David for lodging or stupid to walk back into that trap. Potentially both.

Whatever, though. I don’t have to make any decisions about it for a while. Maybe I’ll just let the invitation remain open well into 2010 and go to Dubai before I move back to the US. When else would I ever be able to go there and have a free place to stay with someone I know and trust and enjoy? Never.

Today marks four weeks since Chris dumped me. I am a fish without a bicycle.

I had a big cry over Chris on Monday night, but it ended suddenly when Kev contacted me on MSN. We talked for about an hour, and I felt completely restored after that.

I have a crush on Kev. He’s married, though, so it will never amount to anything. This is both good and bad, actually, because it will never amount to anything. On the one hand, having feelings for someone who doesn’t return them sucks. On the other, I don’t need a relationship right now, so this is better than pursuing an easy target.

I talked to him again last night for what will be the last time until he returns from a 3.5 week trip in the US. Again, good and bad. He cheers me up so I will miss him, but maybe his absence will help me to get rid of the crush.

Anyway, I was up until nearly 3 am last night and I woke up again around 6 with abdominal pain similar to taking a bullet. I assume, anyway. I knew that it would eventually go away so I just rolled myself into the most comfortable position and waited it out, but it did make me wonder what I would do if I were ever really sick and how would I know?

That’s a scary thing about living alone. When I was 11, I had to write my own obituary for class. Most everyone wrote about having grandchildren and dying of old age. In mine, I was an unmarried, childless spinster who died alone at home when she choked on a piece of food. Age 35.

My teacher thought it was sad; I thought it reflected my desire to never get old and never turn into my parents. I no longer think that turning into my parents is such a ghastly fate. Dying because I am alone and can’t fend for myself in even the most minor medical emergency sounds just a bit more tragic.

I’ve been talking quite a bit lately with the Scotsman, who may soon get to reclaim his name here, because Austrian Chris is a twat. The Scotsman wants us to get back together and has made this very clear. I am, however, not ready to date. Last night, I was thinking about this and how I’ve been approached by a few men and I keep brushing off their advances because the thought of building a new relationship (only to have it crumble the way that mine and Austrian Chris Twat’s or ACT’s did) exhausts me. With the exception of Kev, with whom a friendship already existed and only a friendship is a possibility, the only men with whom I have any interest in communicating are those who I only see (want?) as friends.

This is a problem, though, because the Scotsman is extremely interested in me, and it sort of made me aware of the kind of dumbfuckery that Chris promoted and that many men believe, which is that you can never be friends with a woman you’re interested in. There is, possibly, a certain amount of truth in it. While I’m talking to the Scotsman because he is safe and warm and someone I really like, he sees all the time he’s putting in with me as a sort of insurance: he talks me through my breakup and then, when I’m read to date again, he’s obviously the first choice. Dumbfuck misogynists say that I’ll pick another jerk, though, and that the Scotsman is wasting his time (actually, a reversal of this could be seen in my relationship with David—I invested time and feelings and gave him what, I thought, he was looking for, but I was not a proper choice for a girlfriend).

I refuse to prove this theory true, though. Thus, I told the Scotsman last night that I am not ready for a relationship because I feel damaged by the last one, and I told him that it isn’t fair of me to ask him for anything because I know what he hopes to gain from it. He told me that he can’t help how much he wants me and how he loves the way I make him feel. Basically, he got out of it what he wanted to hear.

Moving on...

I’ve been able to take some time for myself and am working on reading Henry Miller's Tropic of Capricorn. I can’t decide yet if I like it or not but Miller's style and language are like nothing I’ve read in a very long time, so it’s wonderful and inspiring and definitely needed.

My four-year-old nephew Harrison was hit by a car on Wednesday. He is fine. The driver saw him run into the street and wasn’t able to stop but must’ve hit the brakes hard and swerved. Harrison was airborne but emerged only needing some reconstructive and plastic surgery on his face. Again, he is fine.

He and his sister Mattie, 5, were playing on the front porch at my parents’ house when they decided that they wanted to go play at a nearby park, so they took off. My mom noticed within minutes that they were gone because she couldn’t hear them, but it was too late to avoid the accident, which was witnessed by several adults, including an advocate for child protection services (or whatever it’s called). So now my parents are being investigated as to why the kids were crossing a street without an adult nearby. To be honest, even though I know my parents are great with the kids, it pleases me on some level that there is an investigation. I don’t want my parents to have to prove their worth, but there was a terrible accident when they were responsible for the kids, and that’s only fair.

Upon hearing that her son was in the hospital, my sister text messaged everyone she knows to start a prayer chain. That attention whoring annoys the hell out of me, and I’m sorry if that bothers those of you who are religious, but I guarantee that her SMS had nothing to do with the power of prayer and everything to do with letting people know something interesting was happening in her life.

This morning, I got online and saw that Chris had joined the “child-free atheists” group on Facebook, which really irked me. Yesterday, he saw a urologist to make plans to have a vasectomy in August. He asked me to be there for him. I’ve been growing more and more distant. The child-free group ignited an argument in email and text messages, and then he said he wouldn’t come visit this weekend. At this point, I still don’t know if he’s coming. If he is, he should be on a train in a little over an hour.

We’re growing apart, and it has nothing to do with David. Seriously, after another lengthy discussion with Kev and a lot of thought on my part, I feel ready to pull away from David too. But I say that every few weeks, and I’m not being tested until he’s back from London and wants to see me.

I may actually be single soon. I can’t promise it’ll stay that way, but I see that there’s more out there and I want to be strong.

I weighed myself this morning and I’m down another pound and a half, but I have to maintain that this weekend while I’m in Vienna in order to add it to my “pie” chart. (No, I could not resist the pun.)

I half-assedly broke up with Chris this morning about a sofa. Ok, not really about a sofa but about the fact that he’s going to move into a tiny one-room apartment and, while that’s good for him financially, it shows that it will take until May 2010 before he and I can cohabitate. I know, you’re all thinking, “Why would you want to live with him, Kate?” Well, I don’t want to now but I want the option of it. His current apartment is huge and would easily fit me. Now he’s moving into a new bachelor pad and asking me to help him pick out furniture for it, and it’s a very real indicator that we are so far from what I want. If not with him, then with someone.

This morning I spent an hour with my therapist discussing conventional beauty and how I think I’ll be more likely to attract a respectful mate when I am thin because I’ll see more value in myself. I think my therapist respects my opinions, which I like. John said that I pay a therapist to listen to me and give me the reaction that I want instead of confiding in a friend, which I think is a valid point, but when it comes to my thoughts on beauty and body image, I know that what I say can be compelling: I’ve spent almost 20 years of my life thinking about it.

I told Chris that I want to be able to date (and not just sleep with) other people in our open relationship. That is the band-aid on our gaping gash of a relationship. He doesn’t want this, but gave me a tentative yes so that I will visit him this weekend. Anything to make me happy enough to not leave him.

I don’t want to be cruel to him. It’s just so hard for me; I hate the current situation but I want to be with him, so I break up and then patch things back up immediately. I told both him and Caroline that I think I’m going through the same phase that I had with Fouad—after he cheated and before I could finally break up with him. I feel like the relationship is over but I’m not strong enough to end it.

The most important difference, though, is that, despite his flaws, Chris is someone I could spend my life with. We’re in love and our personalities and interests mesh well; we just have very different ideas of relationships. If that could be fixed or a compromise reached, the relationship could be saved. I just don’t know if that will happen.

David has not responded to my email. I was pretty annoyed about this earlier because I think it signifies that he and I haven’t come along as far as I thought we had. But it’s good for me, because it makes him appear less god-like, and I need that kind of reminder.

Ideally, then, I keep seeing my therapist, working out, dieting, and becoming a better, healthier person. And in a few months, maybe I can find someone who will love me for me. Or Chris and I will have patched up our relationship with more than band-aids. Or David will finally be as responsive as I’d like, but even I know that almost certainly can’t go well.

I was so tired on Friday that I just wanted to go home and go to bed, but Chris told me that he would be home and online, so I got online to chat and play World of Warcraft with him. Eventually he told me that he was going out to meet one of his friends, and this is when I finally tell you about that group he was a member of and that he’s rejoined as a part of opening up our relationship, and that I hate. Hate. HATE.

It has many names, but we generally refer to it as the seduction community or pick up. As in pick up artists. As in, those sleazy guys who make a hobby out of hitting on women in bars (or wherever) and sleeping with them and then tossing them aside. This was Chris’ hobby when I met him, although he initially only told me this in bits and pieces.

Basically, it’s an online community in which men arrange to meet in person and give each other tips on how to get laid. They also write these tips online, but they go out together in groups of two (or more) to aid each other and inhibit cock blocking. And then they write up “field reports”—detailed accounts of their evenings out, including what they did that resulted in them getting laid and what they did that failed.

Originally, Chris told me that he was something like “Hitch,”—a dating adviser, to sad-sack men. And then he admitted to being involved in a community of men whose goal is to get girlfriends, but their inexperience requires them to go out and hit on women and sleep with women before they’re acceptable enough for relationships. And then he admitted that most of these guys are really only looking to get laid—they may also want a girlfriend on the side (that would be my role, of course) but they are not seeking out monogamous relationships.

There are lots of techniques for picking up these women, and I’ve read a lot of them. The basic goal is to be able to engage a woman in conversation, so you have to have something clever to say. And then you have to touch her and make your sexual interest known. If this results in having sex, then you’re A MAN!

Chris gave up this lifestyle for me. He never intended to, but he was blindsided when I asked him if we’d be dating exclusively after he first came to Prague and I guess he was interested in me so he decided to try an exclusive, monogamous relationship. At that point, he left the community, maintaining a bit of contact with them until he phased it out entirely.

Unfortunately, he didn't replace the seduction community with any other hobby, save World of Warcraft, so he saw himself turn into a "sad, pathetic, beta man" (his words). He gained some weight and became sedentary. It took him months to finally admit to himself that this wasn't working, but rather than find a new hobby, he declared that he cannot be in a monogamous relationship and he must be a pickup artist. So he opened our relationship and headed back to the community.

The open relationship is bothersome on one level but it doesn’t upset me nearly as much as his return to the seduction community. I find it detestable and disgusting. And since I’ve become more focused on losing weight and buying David’s love, I’ve let this unsavory aspect of Chris fade into the background, but Friday’s conversation made it front and center. And I again told Chris that I wouldn’t tolerate it; if he had to do pickup, I would have to leave him.

This was probably around 11 PM, and I knew he was going out around 11:30, so I told him good night and intended to go to bed. He sent me two text messages. One said, “Please don’t leave me.” And then, “I can still be the best man that you will ever have.”

At around 3 AM, my phone rang. It was Chris, returning after a night out. He said that he needed to talk to me and asked that I get on Skype, so I did. He said that he didn’t want to lose me and that he would do anything to keep me. I told him that he knew what I wanted, but I was just waking up and tired so there wasn’t much that I could say, so we decided to talk again in the morning.

Which is when he told me that he would give up pick up, if we could still have an open relationship. But he said that he didn’t need pick up and that watching his friend try to pick up women last night was embarrassing and abhorrent. He also talked to one of his friends about it (the one with the teenage mistress) and he agreed that pick up is embarrassing.

So, Chris said he would leave the seduction community. But he said that he would still go out with women and flirt and work on his social skills and still try to pick up women to sleep with them.

And, to me, this doesn’t sound any different. It sounds like he’s telling me that he’s leaving the community just to keep me satisfied, but he won’t change any of his habits and his being in Vienna allows him to keep this secret from me. The difference between his proposal and my perception of his pick up artist lifestyle is that his attitude towards women will improve, and he won’t be such a dick. But even that’s not a certainty.

Also, I may have written about this before, but I think that one of the selling points for David to approach me for a relationship was the fact that I’m now in an open relationship with Chris. And I don’t mean that that now makes me fair game. I mean that he probably thinks that he could have the same arrangement.

That said, why would that be an improvement over the current situation? He can sleep with me now; he can sleep with other women; he doesn’t have any responsibility to me. But maybe he wants to spend his life with a woman who will allow him plenty of relationships on the side. Or, if he takes me as his girlfriend, he bumps Chris off and has top priority but still gets to keep everything as is.

Gosh, so many possibilities.

Anyway, I’m supposed to go to Vienna this weekend. I’m planning to take an early train on Saturday morning so that I don’t have to cut out of work early on Friday. And then I’m going to the Netherlands the following weekend.

I haven’t seen David in several days; his mom is visiting; he turned 34 on Thursday; and we last exchanged emails on that day.

I’m going to see a personal trainer tonight and went on a very long (and beautiful) hash trail yesterday. That’s most everything, I guess.

Last Friday, I sent Dirk an email that included two emoticons: a smiley face and this little guy: :P

He responded on Saturday to tell me that he found this utterly unacceptable and that I should refrain from using such characters, as I am no longer 13. I wrote back to tell him that he is crotchety and that I will use whatever characters I damn well please. Smiley face. And we went back and forth a few times in the matter of about 20 minutes (while Chris was making us coffee or something along those lines), until I finally wrote that I saw no reason to continue our correspondence when Dirk was being such an absurd ass. He wrote back:

[Y]ou are always bitchy to the people who haven't deserved it.

I guess it is part of your character.

Thanks, pal.

My weekend in Vienna was nice, and Saturday was especially lovely. The weather was gorgeous and Chris and I went to the Easter Markets, to Café Central, and finally to karaoke later that night. There are pictures from the market up on Facebook and I will try to get them on Flickr and eventually on here.

Anyway, the only thing I didn’t like about it was that I was really tired by the time we went to karaoke and would’ve been happy to go home but Chris really wanted to sing. Actually, the karaoke was ok. But some guy who was sitting a few feet from us passed out, breaking his glass, and he eventually threw up all over himself, his chair, and the floor. Some other guy poured water on him to revive him, but I wasn’t sure if he was trying to be helpful or if he was just a dick, because he was also incredibly drunk and dropped and broke his glass too. Eventually the drunk guy left and the bar staff half-assedly swept up the broken glass, but they didn’t even bother with the vomit, which was left all over the chair and floor.

And everyone just continued to sit there and sing and drink as though doing so three feet away from a pile of barf was completely normal. Disgusting.

Anyway, I don’t have any more time to write but wanted to update.

Last night, I was reconsidering the two messages that David sent me on Monday and I realized that he’s still a douchebag who is using me. What he’s getting from me has changed, though, of course. Now he wants me to edit things he’s written in English (because he’s a native French speaker) and find a cable that would work with his movie projector and then he’ll reimburse me.

But I feel very cold towards him, so I’m not going to make any effort towards helping him. He’s also throwing a party tonight, and I’m not invited. Caroline wanted to crash it with me but I said that was a terrible idea. I’m not going somewhere where I’m not wanted.

I’m going to Vienna to see Chris this weekend. He told me today that he needs to wait another 2-3 months before he can take off any vacation time so that pushes our trip to Greece back to July when it will be god awful hot. And so I think I’ll push it back to the fall. It probably won’t even end up happening now. What a pity. I’m really unhappy about that.

Honza and I went to see Milk last night. He was very gentlemanly, like he was when we first met. I think this friendship has potential.

Yesterday afternoon, David emailed me to ask how things are going with a favor I’m doing for him. I didn’t even have time to respond before he popped off a second message to say that he had just heard that he was accepted into the program in Canada (the one that I helped him with by scanning and faxing a couple of documents). He proposed that we celebrate and invited me for a drink around 9. I accepted.

He sent me a text message around 7:20 to say that he might be a bit later than 9, so he’d let me know if he was running late. Thirty minutes later, he texted again to say that he was sorry, but it looks like he was going to have to postpone our celebration, and we’d talk soon. (Or something equally dismissive.) Frowny face.

And I was really hurt, because I imagined that he happened to spill his news to me first and got overexcited by asking if I would be the one to share that celebratory bottle of wine with him, but then, after revealing the news to his real friends (or some girl), he realized that he had much better celebratory options at his disposal. And he ditched me.

It shouldn’t matter but we all know how much I’ve inflated him as a person of importance in my life and every time he rejects me, it hurts. I tried last night to think about how he’s asked me to hang out in the past and I’ve rejected him because Chris was here for the weekend or I was already with friends. But this doesn’t mean that he’s unimportant to me, and perhaps I was trying to tell myself that I might still matter to him even if I get passed by from time to time. Except that it is a completely different situation, and I guess I need to be reminded every now and then that even though I think so highly of him, I am insignificant in his eyes.

But I was really hurt last night, and I imagined rejecting him right back with a snotty text message. But all I wrote was, “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” And then I waited today for him to email me (which I assumed he would because of the favor I’m doing him), so that I could begin ignoring him. “Ignoring” him.

And this was all I got, a bit before 1 this afternoon:

Sorry for yesterday, we'll catch up soon. Are you around this week end?

And I have not yet responded. As a perennial flake, I should be forgiving. Plus, I’m not his girlfriend; we’re both seeing other people (or, at least, he was seeing someone else; I don’t honestly know his current status), so he has every right to put other people before me. But why should I want to always be around someone who reminds me that I’m just not good enough?

In other news, my boyfriend has continued his quest to change every aspect of his life (except for his girlfriend, although now that gives me pause). He has found a new apartment. He’s very excited about it, and he said that he wants me to be there the weekend that he moves in. I was imagining myself cleaning his old apartment and carrying boxes, so he actually had to spell out for me that he meant that he’d like me to be there the first night that he sleeps in the new place.

He also said that he’d make a little corner for me and my stuff (he’s started leaving clothes at my place and says I should leave things at his—even if just toiletries, but I haven’t yet), and that we could start imagining what it’d be like to live together.

But I sort of thought of every weekend as imagined cohabitation, except that I guess we wouldn’t be as joined at the hip every weekend if we lived together normally and we’d do more mundane things like errand running. But I’ve done my laundry at his place; he’s cooked for me; I’ve done his dishes; we assembled furniture together. It’s not always quite a holiday.

Regardless, he’s revealed some Peter Pan qualities lately and I’m not sure that we ever will live together, as much as I might like to move in with him next year. But I’m trying to be realistic. As depressing as it is, I’m trying to keep my feet on the ground.

Anyway, he'll be here in a little more than 24 hours and we can play house then.

Chris was out until 3 am last night drinking with his 38-year-old best friend (who is married with two small children) and his best friend’s 18-year-old mistress. He sent me text messages at 9:30 and 11:30. The one at 11:30 annoyed me (it was a reference to him and his friend and how they were drunk), so I didn’t respond and that was the last I heard from him during the evening.

I awoke to see that he had emailed me a very detailed report of his evening activities. He said that he had fun but missed me, which is sweet, I suppose, but then he also said that he wished I would get over my dislike of his best friend’s mistress because he’d like to do something like that when I’m there.

He tried this once before, and I said no. He wanted the four of us to play billiards, and I told him that I would gladly play billiards with his best friend and his best friend’s wife (both of whom I have met) but I did not want to hang out with the mistress.

This obviously made me seem snooty and judgmental, but I guess I am. I do not approve of this relationship, and I don’t want to go out drinking with some man and his teenage girlfriend while the man’s wife is at home taking care of their two children. That’s shitty.

I do feel a bit guilty about this because I know that I have no place to judge someone else’s lifestyle and that if this arrangement works for them, then great. I should be open-minded.

But I just can’t be.

Chris called me before 10:30 this morning, perhaps because I hadn’t responded yet to his email (although I never write to him that early anyway) or because he just missed me. It’s sweet that he calls, but I sort of wish he would stop calling as much as he does. Ok, that’s not true, but he should stop calling; he paid an extra 70 Euros on his phone bill last month from all the long distance calls. Granted, a lot of that had to do with my not having internet so we had a few calls that were a bit long and we never would’ve had them if I could’ve just logged onto Skype.

Also, Chris mentioned the opera, as in, his friend would like to go to the opera with his mistress and, presumably, me and Chris. Chris knows how much I want to go to the opera—Caroline and I went when we visited Vienna in 2006 but I have not been back; Chris has never been. I looked for opera tickets for Valentine’s Day but the only available tickets were very expensive. Still, I would love to go some time this spring. I wonder if Chris will try to use this thing that he knows I desperately want to do to sucker me into hanging out with the mistress. But maybe not. Is it really so important to him?

I just know that my closed-mindedness on the matter came up once in an argument and Chris said that he was embarrassed to tell his friend why we wouldn’t play billiards with them. Obviously he didn’t tell him this was the reason, but still, the thought of it embarrassed him.

Yeah, how horrible for Chris to have a girlfriend who disapproves of cheating and doesn’t want to socialize with someone’s mistress. What a horrible human being that makes me.

My scale is a piece of crap. I was on it four times this morning and each time, I weighed a different amount. And it’s not like it varied by a hundredth or even a tenth of a pound. No, it was about five pounds difference between the extremes. I guess it’s a great tool for giving someone a ballpark figure of their weight, but it really fails to have the precision I was aiming for by buying a digital scale.

I went to the post office today to pick up my modem. This is the modem that I only knew was at the post office because I went to Telefonica O2, my fantastic internet provider, and they told me it had been delivered and was waiting for me there. But they had delivered it to the wrong address and by today, it was no longer being held at the post office. It was sent back to O2.

So I called O2 and left a message. They phoned back and apologized and said they would send me a new modem to the correct address. Unfortunately, they would need to cancel my appointment on Friday because they had scheduled the appointment at the wrong address as well and rather than have the guy come to my new apartment, it has to be canceled and rescheduled.

No, it doesn’t make sense to me either. Anyway, they said they’d get back to me.

Yeah, right.

So, I think I will wait until Monday and go see them in person, provided they haven’t contacted me before then but I think we all know that they won’t have. So, by Monday, I should have my new modem or, at least, the package slip from the post office, and I can set something up, hopefully some time next week or, hell, even on Friday but we all know that’s not going to happen.

I contacted the cable internet provider again. I’m not sure if I’ve written about them before but I’m keeping my fingers crossed that they can help me. They’re not as English-friendly as O2, though, so getting a connection from them may be just as difficult as O2. I’m now on Day 16 with no internet. Bravo.

I managed to get my scale home in a large, inconspicuous bag but I forgot to weigh myself when I was at Caroline’s on Friday, so I will simply use my weight from this morning as the starting point for my diet. I’m a bit concerned that the scale I bought is a piece of crap, because I was on and off of it a few times this morning—setting it back and forth between kilograms and pounds—and the first time I was on the scale, I weighed five pounds less than I did a few moments later. Maybe I’ll have to get on it a few times and take averages. What a joke.

Last week, I had a feeling that I ought to confirm the appointment I made with Telefonica O2 to fix my internet. It would, after all, suck if I took a day off of work for them to service the line and then they didn't even show up. So I called them on Wednesday. No answer, so I left a message. They did not return my call so I repeated the process on Thursday. No response so I decided to see them in person on Friday. I went to one of their stores and told the woman that I just wanted to confirm my appointment. She found my account in the computer but then said that she didn’t have access to the same database as the technical support on the phone. She said I should call them. I told her I had been calling them, which, of course, earned a shoulder shrug from her. Sorry, she can’t do anything for me. Oh, well.

I called again that evening. No answer, left a message. No response.

And so I went again to Telefonica O2 but to a different location—one that had been more helpful. And what I learned, first of all, is that O2 had mailed me my new modem but it seems that they mailed it to my old address, where I haven’t lived for more than 13 months. They said that the modem was still at the post office, though, so they printed me out a receipt and said I could still pick up the modem. I will do this tomorrow.

As for the appointment? Nope, not in the system. Just as I suspected. So they scheduled a new one. Fortunately, it is still on Friday, so, hopefully I will have internet by then. Provided that the appointment stays in the system and provided that they show up at the right address and provided that I am able to pick up my modem at the post office.

I’m so sick of them that I contacted a cable internet provider on Friday. They called me back today but we had a serious communication problem and she said (in Czech) something about an English operator but I couldn’t tell if she meant that I need to call the English operator or if the English operator will call me. I didn’t find an English number on their website so I’ll give it another day or two before I try to contact the Czech line again and maybe I’ll get someone who might direct me towards the appropriate line.

Finally, I took the train to Vienna on Saturday—leaving Prague around 6 am and getting into Vienna by 10. I was quite tired but I caffeinated myself like crazy and had a wonderful time. When I had to leave yesterday evening around 7 pm, Chris was the saddest I had ever seen him during one of our goodbyes. I was less sad because I knew I’d be back in just five days. If you count actual hours, this will be the shortest break between two of our visits, and so I feel/felt great about it and only mildly sad.

But he told me that he felt sentimental and sad and pleaded with me to stay—but only half-heartedly. It was more an expression that he wished I could stay but knew that I could not.

He keeps asking me if I will leave him ("You will never leave me, right?" he says) and telling me that he will never leave me. It feels wonderful to hear that but I keep finding myself wondering about the logistics of our staying together.

I’ve been in touch with my friend Amy again in the past week, and her (Czech) husband Martin, whose English skills aren’t so good, can’t find a job in the US. And so, he may come back to Prague. She may come with him. I realized that Amy is Chris and I am Martin: she/Chris is employable anywhere so she should be flexible about where they live, while Martin/I lack(s) language skills that would make us employable in our partner’s home country. And while it has become very clear to me that Chris wants me to move to Vienna eventually (I think it was his saying “move to Vienna” that really drove that one home), I don’t know if it’s realistic.

But I’m not going to focus on that at the moment.

Chris said this weekend that we are a good match because we are what the other needs. And then he pantomimed himself as a sort of gruff, prickly, hard-edged person (which is not how I see him at all, but he does have those characteristics), and then he did an impression of me as a sweet, mild-tempered, caring person. In his mind, I need him to be more confident and to assert myself more—to reach out and take what life offers and not feel guilty for enjoying it, and he needs me to be softer, more loving, and more considerate. We fit.

And once O2 fixes my internet on Friday (please God, please), I will take the train to him to enjoy my supposedly gruff Valentine with a heart of gold.

Lots going on right now. Of particular interest:

1. I currently have no internet at home. I’ve already been in touch with three separate customer service people at my ISP and their inconsistent responses have led me to believe that if I continue to pester them, they could get it fixed within a week. And so, I will call them every day until they are able to tell me that they can hook the line back up.

I am obviously not happy about this, but it’s all I can do.

2. Also, my visa expires in a month. I have two weeks to resubmit the paperwork. Only one document is missing and it’s the one that needs to be submitted by my landlord. Shocking. I am trying to apply pressure to get this taken care of but my landlord is the laziest, most selfish dipshit that I’ve dealt with here (and that’s saying a lot). I think we will have to find a way around this document. I am currently waiting for a response from my visa lady and then I will make the workaround my top priority.

I am obviously not happy about this, but I can only do so much.

Basically, these two things are situations where I am completely reliant on other people. I can apply pressure to both entities but if they fail me, well, it’s not in my control.

I hate that shit.

3. In happier news, Chris will visit this weekend. I will go to Vienna for Valentine’s Day. Everything is good here, although we will have less time on Skype together with my lack of internet. I went to a restaurant with free wifi last night after my German lesson, but this is not ideal and I want it fixed soon.

4. I feel exceptionally fat right now. I have not been eating well and it must stop. It will stop today.

The problem is that I eat out a lot and I tend to order what I want and not what I should have. At that restaurant last night, for instance, I ordered a cheeseburger and fries and washed that down with a liter of beer. In my defense, I barely ate any of the fries because they were terrible, but I shouldn’t have ordered them in the first place.

I am launching Operation Salad. In addition to doing yoga and hopefully some other fitness classes, I need to watch what I’m eating. Just because I’m eating out doesn’t mean I have to order the biggest, greasiest thing on the menu. So when I go to dinner tonight, I will have a salad. When I eat out tomorrow for lunch, I will have a salad (or a broth soup). I know myself well enough to know that I’m probably not going to stop eating out as much as I do (and why should I? that would impair my social life and it’s relatively cheap here) but I can adapt my eating habits.

Also, I will buy a scale, which I have meant to do for a year.

So, don’t wake the neighbors or anything, but I am pretty much on a diet.

I weighed myself about a week ago at a friend’s apartment, and…remember how I lost 47 pounds in my 2006-2007 diet? I’ve gained 13 back. That is not terrible, really. But 47 pounds was never my goal. In fact, my goal was to lose 75 pounds—something I extended from the initial 50 when it seemed a sure thing I’d hit that mark. But I never did, and it stopped being a priority.

And then I moved out of my furnished apartment that had a scale into one that didn't, and I stopped keeping track…except when I would occasionally be alone in Caroline’s room and could step onto her digital scale and see what was up. My weight was up, of course. Duh.

So, I’m welcoming back the pies (with a sun as my ticker because it isn’t working quite right at the moment):




I’m setting my goal at 40 pounds. I would be happy with 20, though, but 40 + the 34 pounds I’ve kept off = 74, which is nearly my last goal. It should, perhaps, be 41 but I like the round figure. I just would prefer not to be round myself.

I’ll try to update this weekly, but I will have to buy the scale first. Wish me luck! …Or better yet, wish me better eating habits!

I am really pissed off in regards to David. He contacted me this morning via Facebook message, and I have been thinking about it for the past couple of hours. I started writing an LJ post in my head while I went out to grab something to eat but now I think that venting about it won't make me feel any better. It'll just continue the cycle of anger, jealousy, and rejection that I associate with him.

To put it briefly so that I don't dangle information in front of you and not share it, it was something like, "Merry Christmas. I'm really busy, but let's get together in the New Year." Ok, that's not the part that upset me--he's been pretty persistent about us getting together even though he knows that I'm dating Chris.

No, what pissed me off was that I then looked at my Facebook feed and saw that he had posted a bunch of photos from a party he threw at his place. And was I invited to said party? Of course not. To be fair, when I thought that we might actually have a relationship together, I didn't put much effort into mingling him into my group of friends. But I also don't ever host parties or events. I don't like the responsibility of organizing events or the blame when they don't go well. So I stay out of that position.

But David is a sommelier, so of course he likes to entertain.

So what annoys me here is that it's a reminder of how he values me, which is to say, not at all. And that would be fine if he'd leave me alone. But he acts like we're friends in some sort of pathetic attempt to keep his name on my dance card in case Chris and I break up. Actually, in case I decide to cheat. So he invites me to get coffee...at his place. Or to go see a movie...but, wait, he didn't have time to look up listings so let's just watch something at his place.

Right, I see where this is going. And, of course, he is entitled to act that way. The real question is why I allow anyone to treat me that way. I know, in part, it's because sometimes I find the attention flattering. But it really isn't. It's insulting and sad and pathetic. I know that I should remove and block him on Facebook and delete his phone number. And yet, I don't. I tell myself that it's because I don't want to be rude, but that really doesn't explain it. I love the drama? It's thrilling? I'm happiest when I'm upset?

I don't know. And I'm closing comments on this, because even the most well-intentioned feedback on David is difficult for me to hear.

And one last thing: I love Chris. This has nothing to do with him. If he and I were not dating, David would still be on the periphery. I would either be dating someone else or single, but I wouldn't ignore David. I wouldn't make an effort to talk to him, but I wouldn't ignore him either. I know this is difficult to understand, and it's difficult for me to understand. Maybe when I get my medical insurance card, I'll find a therapist, because this is ridiculous.

Edited at 2:45 PM: I know, it's funny that I said I'd be brief and wrote all of this. HOWEVER, I left out a bunch more of mah feeeelings--the entry in my head had to deal with all sorts of rejection issues and other people who make me feel like crap, so provided I stop typing right now, we can say I was brief. So, yeah, just need to stop talking about this...

Edited at 2:51 PM: I want to reiterate my love for Chris and the fact that this has nothing to do with him! He makes me feel wonderful, and I am so incredibly happy to have him.

Actually, I'm wondering if my obsession with David is a need to prove my worth. I am insulted that he deemed me only fuckable and not relationship material, so this is why I can't get rid of him. I have to right this--not by dating or fucking him but by somehow taking these opportunities of contact that he gives me to show him that I am an awesome person and he is worse off for not having me in his life. Put simply, I'm bitter. Still. If I deleted him, I would stop being bitter because he would stop contacting me and I wouldn't have the reminder of my rejection to continually refresh my bitterness. Hmm...

Ok, shutting up now, for at least another 4 minutes.

Because the three and a half months that I was not allowed to leave the Czech Republic are still fresh in my mind, I am trying to start my visa renewal process now. Actually, I tried to start it more than a month ago, but the woman in charge of my case was unresponsive until late last week. I have until the end of February to renew my visa, so I should be all right. But something that sucks is that it will only be renewed for three months, because that’s when my work permit expires. So almost immediately after I finish the process, I have to restart it again. This strikes me as incredibly shitty but it’s completely out of my control.

So the woman wrote to me today and told me all of the 75 million documents (ok, more like 6) that I need to renew my visa—all of which I will have to replicate in another three months, including my lease, which cannot be older than 6 months, so the one benefit to my having to start this process again in a couple of months is that I won’t have to track down my landlord and make him sign a form, which he never did for me a year ago. Ugh. Anyway, this woman wrote to me and said that one of the things I need is a copy of my medical card, which I don’t have.

I’ve been working here for over a year now, and, as far as I can tell, I am not insured. I suppose that I am technically, but I have yet to use my medical insurance for anything, because I have no proof of it. All of my antidepressants? Out of pocket. That surgery I had in September? Out of pocket.

Yes, it sucks. And when I finally am insured, I will have to change my psychiatrist so that I am covered by my insurance, and changing a mental health provider is one of the most annoying things in the world. So I may just continue to pay out of pocket, although that would be remarkably stupid in the long run.

Anyway, I brought this insurance card issue to the attention of our HR-type guy (we’re too small to have an HR department, really), which I should have done sooner. He assumed that I had the card; I assumed that it just took absurdly long (really, I’ve only been expecting it since July because that’s when I had all of my legal paperwork) and I was being patient by not asking. But I am finally getting a medical card and should have it in a few weeks, so that I will begin the renewal process by the beginning of January. See, this is why I’ve started early. Already I’ve lost two months over things that are out of my control. Yes, I’ve used that phrase twice now. These things are not in my control.

Something else that ranks on my scale of recent annoyances is my lease agreement. I’m signing a new one and should have signed it last week, but I was reading it over and noticed that it failed to mention my deposit. My previous landlord ripped me off in regards to the deposit and even tried to claim that I hadn’t paid one, so I will absolutely make sure that this contract mentions it. It was more than two months’ rent, so I would be devastated if I didn’t see that money again. So my landlord is writing it into the new contract, but I really wonder if this was an honest oversight or an attempt to screw me. He seems like a nice guy but I’m skeptical after what happened before.

Finally, last night my power went out. I was gaming with Chris, Leon, and Sam, and then everything went black. I went to my fuse box and flipped all of the switches but nothing happened. So I went out into the hall but I couldn’t turn the light on out there either. I peeked out of the windows and it looked like the whole block was out. I texted Chris to let him know why I lost my connection, and he wrote back with the same thing I was thinking: “Czechs…”

I was very annoyed and just padding around in the darkness, so I called him, and he didn’t answer in three rings, so I hung up. And he dialed back. I mention this because it makes me wonder if it is intentional—it’s very sweet if it is, his paying for the call instead of me. Then again, I only gave him three rings to avoid his voicemail and maybe that wasn’t enough.

Regardless, he talked to me for a few minutes and asked if I had an emergency utility contact, and I said, “Of course not,” so he started looking one up for me, and it was just so sweet to have him to talk to as I paced around in the darkness, partially annoyed, partially scared. And, within a few minutes, the power came back on, and everything was fine. And I thanked him and told him that I loved him, and he said it back, and, in that moment, I felt so amazingly grateful to have him.

Really, there are so many annoying things that happen and feel out of my control, but having Chris makes everything feel so much nicer. (I know. Gag, right?)

Today has been emotionally exhausting, and that's largely my own damn fault. The bulk of said emotional exhaustion was the result of my causing an argument (if you can call it that) with Chris. I was being really moody and negative last night, and he didn’t want to talk to me because of it so he signed off of Skype in a huff. I sent him two text messages and called, which is when I discovered that he had turned off his phone, so I moved on to email.

I eventually had to admit to myself that he was not going to answer last night, and I should go to bed. So I did. When I woke up in the morning, I checked to see if he had contacted me, but he had not. So I texted him and then called. No response.

I was very concerned that he was going to break up with me because he had never been so unresponsive before. I also found it difficult to concentrate on other things because I hate having things that are unresolved. I called him again when I got to work, and he didn’t answer but called back immediately. So either he missed picking up in the three rings before his voicemail picked up or he didn’t want me to pay for the call.

And, in a nutshell, everything is fine. He said to me that I “underestimate the stability of our relationship” and that he’s willing to work through things with me. He admitted that he was angry last night but he isn’t now, but I still need to be more positive and work on these things because it’s not fun when I act that way. He’s right about everything, and I’m grateful that he can tolerate my being temperamental, even though I hate it as much as he does.

So: relief, gratitude, adoration. Everything is fine.

But then I noticed that someone I had had a summer fling with had unfriended me on Facebook, so I sent him a message to ask why. He tried to play it off as a systematic cleansing of the people on his friends list that he doesn’t communicate with (anymore), but I know him well enough to know that he does not keep up with well more than half of the other 300 people on his list. Which is to say: bullshit. Besides, this guy also maintains two dummy accounts for some of the Facebook games and I was friends with both of them…until today. So he was systematically cleansing his friends list and the friends lists of these two fake people? I doubt it. Unless he was systematically cleansing them of me.

My guess is that he saw all of the karaoke photos that I added of me and Chris looking happy together, and he decided that our fling was flung and had no hope of revival. So he cast me out of his 300.

Anyway, I sent him a message about it, and he responded. We wrote back and forth a few times and started rehashing our relationship/friendship, which was exhausting. He didn’t think that I ended things in a polite way, to say the least. But I’m not going to rehash it again. Once today was enough. Suffice to say that it was more than I wanted to deal with.

Next was my sister. She had up a Facebook status update about how she’s finished all of her Christmas shopping, and I responded, “Scary!” She wrote back something about all the presents being wrapped and so on, and I made some flippant remark about how she’ll probably end up buying more stuff because she’ll find more things before the 25th. Which is exactly what I would end up doing. And I just meant it to be funny; I can see how it could be misinterpreted, and, of course, it was.

She responded with this, “Sounds like you have an attitude or that you are a little bitter about something. I have no time to shop with kids, school, work, wedding, etc. I won't be buying anything else. If you have nothing nice to comment about then please say nothing. I don't want negativity! I love you all the same!”

So I deleted my comment. I wrote back something about how I hadn’t meant it to sound negative but I didn’t really feel like explaining myself and then I deleted that too. She changed her status to something about how she is annoyed by negative people—why can’t people just be happy for one day!?

I commented on that that she shouldn’t assume the worst and should take things more positively but that it was okay because “I love her anyway!” which was really bitchy of me. She deleted it. Figures. She’ll get over it. I’m not going to bother trying to fix it.

Finally, I had to make a key during my lunch hour for my landlord. There are two main doors to my apartment building and one has a new lock that he didn’t have a copy of. Actually, when I saw him last month, I gave him my spare set of keys and then I had to make a copy of this key for him. Why? Why the fuck am I making copies of keys for my landlord? How in the hell is that my responsibility? Will he reimburse me for this service? I doubt it.

If nothing else, it was a pain in the ass to find a place that would make the key. I went to one key maker who wouldn’t even do it. He looked at the key and decided it wasn’t possible and I was briefly irritated that my landlord asked the one non-native Czech in the building to do his bidding. That makes absolutely no sense. Or am I missing something?

Anyway, I have the damn key now to give to him. So everything is settled: Chris and I are in love and good; the fling has unfriended me but it may be for the best because I don’t need drama; my sister is peeved at me but she’ll get over it; I have the fucking key for my lazy landlord. I am, however, really goddamn exhausted.

I woke up this morning to the sound of construction in my building. I got up and went into the bathroom, where I discovered that whoever was doing this construction had turned off the water. Which makes today the second time in ten days that my water has been shut off.

The last time that it was turned off, someone had posted a notice on my building's door to let us know ahead of time that it would not be operational. It still annoys me greatly when the water is off (it's been off 5-6 times since I moved into this apartment in January), but at least I know in advance. Today? No warning.

I tried to find the men doing the construction work so I could ask them when it'd be turned back on--I'm a bit horrified at the thought that they'll forget to turn it back on and I'll be without water for the weekend or longer--but they didn't answer the door of the apartment they're working on when I knocked.

Also, the construction, in and of itself, is incredibly annoying. Last spring, they were working on this same apartment for a couple of weeks and I would wake up to buzzing and hammering on Saturday and Sunday mornings. And, of course, no one notified me in any way of this construction.

Chris will be here next weekend to celebrate his 30th birthday, and I pray we don't have a repeat of last spring's noise. Couple that with the water turned off, and he may think twice about dating someone who's willingly living in such a hellhole.

But his opinion of the Czech Republic is already incredibly low, so I imagine that this would scarcely faze him. And that sort of indifference might be well-earned. I mean, this is Eastern Europe. How could I possibly expect to have running water at regular intervals? That's just crazy!

Fouad called me at work yesterday to ask me for the password to one of his 853 (rough estimate) email accounts.  First of all, buddy, we broke up 10 months ago and, while I had several passwords to several of your email accounts, I don’t remember them.  Plus I’m pretty sure that the one you were requesting the password for is the one secretive account that I was never allowed to read.  This is what happens when you keep (approximately) 853 email accounts, each with a different password.  I mean, duh.

 I think I’m like his mom in Prague.  I’m that person he contacts when he is needy and desperate and doesn’t have anyone else to turn to.  But, in part because I am <i>not</i> his mother, I feel less and less guilty about not helping him.

 A couple of months ago, he was trying to hit me up for several hundred dollars so that he could fly home to Algeria.  I felt bad that he couldn’t raise the funds to see his family but there was no way I was going to pay for it.  Somehow, though, he managed, and I will always wonder how.  But he flew home to Algeria in mid-October.  And then he proceeded to text me and do that call and hang up thing, from an Algerian phone number.  I did not call him back.

 On Saturday, he returned to Prague and asked me if he could stay with me for a week, but I turned him down, simply saying that my landlord was going to be visiting this week.

 Frankly, now that I know that he was fortunate enough to come up with the money for a plane ticket back to Algeria, I can stop worrying about him.  I guess I’ve been feeling a bit guilty and thinking that I still owed him something after we broke up in January, but he can take care of himself.

 My annoying friend Lenka might stop by tonight after work so that she can pick up her mail, which she is still getting at my apartment 10.5 months after she moved out.  Actually, she only contacts me now because of her stupid mail.  Caroline told me that I should take Lenka’s name off of my mailbox and that I should have done that months ago.  And Caroline is obviously right.  But we all know I’m a pushover, and so I haven’t.

 I think my subconscious has opted for the annoy-her-until-she-no-longer-wants-to-get-her-mail-at-your-apartment plan.  I’m totally cancelling on her tonight, in part because I think I’ll go grab a few drinks with my friend Leslie.  But also because I’m a bitch who is tired of being used as Lenka’s personal post office.

 I saw Amy and Emmy today for the last time in Prague.  If I ever see them again, it will happen stateside.  Amy was talking today about women dating/marrying men exactly like their fathers, and she asked if I had done this.  I’m not really sure, frankly.  I don’t think Leon and my dad were anything alike.  And certainly not Fouad.  Chris has an outgoing personality that might be similar to my dad’s but their beliefs, ideas, and views of the world are so completely different.

 Anyway, I was describing my dad to her as an extroverted, talkative person, and she stopped me to ask how my seemingly friendly, outgoing parents could have produced someone like me.  “You’re so quiet!” she said.

 It made me stop to wonder how she perceives me.  Our friendship was sort of built around my listening to her problems.  She had to go through that hellish pregnancy and birth; she had to go through one particularly hellish job here in Prague; she had the general hell of dealing with a foreign land and people who aren’t, by nature, very helpful or friendly; she had some arguments and issues with her husband.  And so I listened.

 Yes, it’s true, I am a quiet person.  But I was quiet out of the kind of respect that I think my parents taught me.  And that, I guess, is how my friendly, outgoing parents produced someone like me.

 I really hope my new sofa and armchairs are in my apartment when I get home, but 20 koruny says it ain’t so.