Divorce
May 18th, 2009 § 2 Comments
I haven’t talked to my dad for three months. He’s called a few times but I’ve ignored his call. I rationalized that if it were urgent he would leave a message, he hasn’t, so I further rationalize that the silence is okay.
My parents divorced when I was 1 1/2. This put my father at a huge disadvantadge for bonding time, as I’m sure my mom was dead set against leaving me as an infant in his care for the weekends. I’ve spent 31 years silently thanking her for this foresight. As I grew from a toddler to a teenager, the wedge between my father and I grew stronger. Each day I became less of a little girl and more like a woman; a precursor to my mom. In return, my dad grew even more uncomfortable in my presence and chose to spend his time with my brother. Together they shared an interest in sports and lack of interest in me.
Being a teenager marks a difficult period of transition. It’s a period of struggle to find independance marked by eye rolling, sassing and grunting to display displeasure and irritation. I was a pro at the eye roll. I think my face froze in a state of displeasure and, to this day, my relaxed face is not a pleasant one.
While I was a teen entrenched in a constant bicker battle with my mom, my feelings towards my dad were displayed with indifference. We avoided confrontation at all costs. There was a silent understanding between us that we would give each other space. Any talk of boys, life, feelings, dreams, and all topics related was off limits. We could however discuss, what was for dinner, how much money I needed for my trip to the mall, and what friends I could have over to help me survive the otherwise intolerable weekend.
Weekends at my dad’s house passed with excruciating pain. Time there moved slower and was steeped in solitude. While my dad and brother would spend hours away from the house at card shows and sports stores, I would spend the weekend on the couch watching television and eating myself into a sugar coma. I marveled at TV daughters and their TV dad’s. I would watch with meticulous attention as Bill Cosby cradled Rudy in his arms as she would rest her little head on his chest or as Mike Brady gave Marsha sage advice on boys and life. And, to make it even more impressive, Marsha wasn’t even his real daughter. TV dad’s didn’t match mine. My dad didn’t give advice, he didn’t talk to me past asking what I wanted to eat for dinner. My dad stayed distant from everything that made me his daughter. His duties didn’t extend beyond making sure I was fed, clothed and still alive by the time my mom picked me up on Sunday.
I always wondered how my life would be different if I had a healthy relationship with my dad, instead of being left to absorb the TV dad/daughter relationship, pretending that Mr. Huckstable was talking directly to me when he was offering advice to his children.
Father’s day is especially difficult because no cards match the sentiment I have towards my father. Most thank dad’s for their insight, their wisdom, their guidance. I need one that says I love you for buying me things when I was younger and for making sure I was sent back to mom’s unscathed.
We all struggle with parent issues and for the most part I have come to accept the fact that my dad and I will always remain at a distance. I love my dad because he is my dad but I feel like he knows little about me or who I am. I know he is proud of me because he is always excited to get my business card so he can show it to his acquaintances. “Look, my daughter is a Senior Vice President.” In my head, this scene plays out with the person asking pointed questions about me; what I like, my middle name, when my birthday is- my dad struggles to answer the questions, gives them my card and says to call to ask me the questions directly.
No matter how strained our relationship, I do know that if my dad ever needs me I will pick up the phone, check my voicemail and then call him back.
I Can Never Run for Office
May 7th, 2009 § 1 Comment
I went to Washington DC a few years back for a Latino conference. It was a week filled with professional networking opportunities during the day, working dinners at night and, for some reason, a lot of late nights filled with tequila and dancing. I have to admit, it felt like I was having way too much fun for it to be work-related, but nonetheless it was a productive week of networking.
Most people there were apparently more seasoned than I at tolerating late nights, alcohol, salsa dancing and hookah bars. I was young, and clearly a out of my league. I am sad to say that my ability to keep up with this demographic was below par.
On one particular evening, after salsa dancing with my collegues and the mayor of Los Angeles, we returned to the hotel for an impromptu hotel room party. While the mayor and I were engaged in conversation, he decided to make a speech to the crowded hotel room.
While I’m sure others listened in distinguished esteem, I was clearly unable to blend into the crowd. Instead, I was captured during a photo opp and forever solidified as “drunk girl to right”.
And so, my dreams of running for political office have been thwarted. Oh well, I clearly can’t hang anyway.
Reflecting On-Line
May 7th, 2009 § 1 Comment
The first few dates I arranged to go on with people I met on line, I flaked. It was a mixture between not wanting to be judged, not having enough nerve and not wanting to face the fact that once I went, Pandora’s Box of random strangers and Internet dating would be opened.
My Match.com inbox was a virtual meat market, the kind of sleazy meat market that I use to go to when I was underage and witnessed a guy peeing on the dance floor. No joke, I saw a guy unzip his jeans and relieve his drunken self right there on the dance floor. It was disgusting and I vowed to never go to that club again…even if it was the only place in Orange County that accepted my blatently fake ID. So, you can understand my aversion to dive back into an atmosphere that brought drunken dance floor pee-er types to my doorstep.
The Internet dating population is heavy with men who have been shunned by society at large and reduced to channel their cat calls and derogatory pick up lines virtually.
For example, take this email I got from a stranger:
I like to make ladies laugh and climax. I am a typical man that thinks about your ass before anything else. You must be a comedy lover to be around a guy like me. I can make you pee your pants from laughing so hard.
And then there were emails from guys who were clearly pulling out all the stops and layed it on so thick, that I smelled bullshit even before I got past the first few words:
…you have the beauty that you only glimpse in a blooming flower…..so,….if i didn’t stop and say that i really like your profile ( and i only mentioned your true beauty, which is yours to share with the right man…)i know your pretty , beautiful and a very gorgeous woman!if you’d like we could share your ambitions, desires and dreams…..fun it will be and exhausting it can be…..”we can sit down dying or get up and start living”……..i know i can make you smile…or at least my two dogs will have your heart by days end…..lolmy name is John and i would love to meet up with you,and just enjoy a nice evening,day whatever …of conversation and see if we can prolong an initial introductory…..p.s. yes….you made my knees shake a bit….lolJohn –
And some guys had even less to say but were equally as poignant:
I’m 34, I live alone, I have a career, my house is clean, and I have a cat. And I’m not gay. Need I say more? Kurtis
No matter what emails my inbox would bring to me daily, I always knew that at the very least, if I kept my sense of humor, the on line dating gods would provide the material to keep me laughing.
