good grief, Zen. I hope you don't have to this all weekend.

Maybe you could respect her personhood's ability to get her own damn money and get out get out get out whilst carrying your checkbook.

Exactly. She's not getting anything from me to support her unsustainable lifestyle. I think her mom has finally realized the futility of giving her money, not to mention what ultimately damaging enabling behavior it is.

if these trips are mostly vacations (and not something for the business).

The business involves selling her stuff to rich heavy metal rock-n-rollers, so she tells herself she's "networking", but really she's just partying. In Europe.

I am not on the razor's edge financially, but I WISH I could travel to Europe!

So three weeks ago I initiated contact with the latest potential future wife. I had put it off for a while, but I finally went ahead and sent the stupid e-mail. And from her first response, I was actually a little excited. Her favorite fictional architect was Ted Mosby, just like I'd hoped she'd say! Her favorite dessert was sorbet, which I had considered as a spoiler despite restricting the choices to dairy-based ice cream, gelato, and frozen yogurt! We e-mailed back and forth for a week and talked about books and writing and art and things. Had my parents actually found someone for me that I could have a good conversation with?

Because she was local, I suggested we meet up, and she agreed. I let her pick the place, a coffee shop. As I waited, I noticed that, hey, they were on Stampt and had a coupon and stuff.

When she arrived, we went up to order, and the cashier didn't really know how to do the Stampt coupon, which was irritating, and for some reason, I kept trying to explain it to her rather than just let it go immediately and not make myself look like a cheap-ass discount-obsessed fiend. But I bought her drink! That's not cheap-ass, right? ...Right?

And then we talked for a while about things. Mostly her job. She's an architect. Well, not officially, as she was taking the required licensing exams. I kept asking about what she did and why she did it because it was really interesting to me. Conversation was a bit awkward, as expected, but not in a disastrous way. She didn't seem to ask very much about me, which I took as a bad sign.

It wasn't a slam-dunk, "Oh, we are meant to be" kind of thing, but it went about as well as could be expected, I guessed. As we exited, I wasn't sure what the next step was. Were we going to meet again? Did she want to? "Well, I think that went well," I said awkwardly.

She did not explicitly agree, which I took as a bad sign, but she said she would contact me. Days went by, and she did not, and I thought maybe I had misheard or misconstrued, and maybe I was supposed to contact her after all. Maybe she thought I wasn't interested. I thought maybe I had given that impression unknowingly, and while I didn't feel that magical ~*spark*~ at our first meeting, I was certainly willing to give it another try. So I finally e-mailed her to clarify that I would be interested in meeting up again if she was. No response for a couple more days, which seemed to cement that she wasn't.

Last night, she e-mailed:

So sorry. It has been a crazy week. I apologize for not being more upfront that day. I felt like I was put on the spot and did not know what to say, but still I shouldn't have said I would be talking to you. I do not think this is going to work out.

Wish you luck with the creative writing and finding the girl that makes you happy.

I thanked her for letting me know and wished her luck as well. And then I wondered what I had done, what the fuck was wrong with me, that she thought it wouldn't work out based on that one meeting. Was it the Stampt crap? Was I too nervous and awkward? Was I too ugly? Maybe I didn't smile enough. Maybe I was boring. I descended down my usual self-pity spiral to bring myself to tears. Every single potential future wife had rejected me, even the ones I didn't even like. All I knew was rejection. (Untrue, but, you know: self-pity spiral.)

I don't know whether I've mentioned that my mom is in town to take care of my grandmother after her double-knee replacement. I've seen her several times in the last few weeks. And here I was again, at my grandmother's house. I had told her to record my NBC comedies so we could watch them together. We were also going to eat my leftover birthday ice cream cake. I wiped away my tears and tried to hold myself together because I didn't want to talk about this with her right now. I was too raw.

Sure enough, within a few minutes of The Office, she had to go and fucking bring her up, as they had been bringing her up for weeks. How was it going with her, she asked.

"It's over," I said. I should (continued...)

( continues...) have lied. Of course I should have lied. I would have to tell her eventually, but I didn't have to tell her right now. But during my self-pity spiral, I wished I were at home by myself and with the Internet (there's no Internet at my grandmother's house), but I also thought that maybe a hug from my mother would make me feel better.

She asked what I meant. "We met, and it's not going to work out," I said.

I hadn't told her that we had met. "Yeah, because it's not going to work out," I said.

And she immediately reached for my hair and started to make a comment about how she had told me to cut my hair. "Shut up!" I snapped, because I was sick of being told to cut my hair.

And she tried again, again suggesting that it was my long hair that had done it.

"I find it highly unlikely that my hair is the reason that after a week of nice e-mails and one awkward meeting, she doesn't want to see me again." That is what I meant to say.

What actually came out was: "Yeah, that'll solve all of my fucking problems, if only I cut my goddamn hair!!" I don't think I've ever cursed like that to my mother. Maybe on the phone once. "Sorry," I added.

Without a word, she got up and walked away.

For the next half hour, I was in rage paralysis, unable to move, gripping my empty bowl of ice cream cake, which I wanted to throw at the wall, or at the TV. I wanted to run into the bathroom and shave my head. I went through my typical thoughts of suicide and self-harm.

I was finally able to pull myself off the bed and go to my room and lock the door and read and go to bed and get up and go to work, all without seeing her again.

(We're going to go watch the shuttle fly-over now, so I won't be responding for a bit.)

Oh, bah, Polter. For what it's worth, this married devil white woman thinks you're cute.

Thanks for the advice about the hair. I want to go short but then I hear "your face is too round" or "it won't look good at your size" or something like that. But I think it will look good.

Also I have issues because Mom was never thrilled with my short hair and even though I'm not trying to please my Mom I still hear her voice. Or in the case of last night actually talk to her. I showed her the pictures and she brought up her big concern "you'll look butch." Which I pointed out is her issue, not mine. I don't find it insulting nor do I think it's a bad look.

So now that I've worked that out I'm going to print out some pictures and talk to some stylists and see if I'll find someone who will cut my hair the way I want.

P-C I'm sorry you had such a rough time.

There are lots of reasons that this woman didn't think you were a good match that have nothing to do with you. She may have agreed to do this to appease her parents and had no intention of pursuing a second meeting with anyone. She may have been doing this to appease her parents and be in a relationship her parents don't know about and that's why she didn't want a second meeting.

Maybe she's in a relationship her parents don't approve of and they pressured her into this meeting.

I am not on the razor's edge financially, but I WISH I could travel to Europe!

Me too! I don't know how she does it. Oh, wait, yes, I do - on credit cards. With ridiculously high credit limits for an unemployed person because her mom's name is on them too. Well, that's over. I'm glad I'm not sitting in on the discussion they're probably having right now.

P.C., that sucks. I'm sorry.

There are lots of reasons that this woman didn't think you were a good match that have nothing to do with you.

This, indeed. It ain't you.

askye, I think those short styles will be cute as hell on you! Go for it!

I am not on the razor's edge financially, but I WISH I could travel to Europe!

Ditto. Sorry Zen that your crazy family are making you crazy.

I am pissed off. I had an appointment with the ENT scheduled for the first week of October. I realized that it was at the same time as my office hours, so I used the online messaging system to send a message to the office asking to reschedule. In the message, I said that I was in a lot of pain, and that if there was any way the doctor could see me any earlier than October, that would be great. They messaged back to say that the next available appointment was November 15. I wrote back saying that, if November 15 was the earliest they could reschedule me, then I'd just stick with my original appointment, and I'd find someone who could cover my office hours. They wrote back that they had already cancelled my original appointment time, and it wasn't available anymore.