Touch Wood. Touch Gold.

“Selflessness is humility . . . humility and freedom go hand in hand. Only a humble person can be free.” ~ Jeff Wilson

Of the many things I admire and respect about Pavarthi and Vijay is their humility. They have accomplished and overcome so many things in their lives, yet one wouldn’t ever know it because they simply don’t talk about it . . . unless they’re talking about one another. It is obvious they admire one another a great deal. I challenge anyone to watch them and not smile. I think this task is impossible.

Vijay worked for NASA and was a pioneer in the development of vehicle airbags and solar energy panels. Pavarthi has done extensive research on DNA repair (among many other things) and is at long last organizing her data for submission. Her research was put on hold for some time when she was ill and on the brink of death. She survived and believes she is a better person for it. Vijay also nearly faced death once; I don’t know much about his experience.

In the face of such adversity, Vijay and Pavarthi have not only survived, but radiate a loving kindness to anyone who may cross their path.

After dinner – when I was stuffed to the brim and hardly able to walk – I drove them home and we chatted over a glass of wine. Pavarthi immediately presented a plate of cookies and Vijay chided her. My immediate reaction was to laugh at the entire scenario: here we are from two very different cultures. Out of custom and stellar hostess skills, Pavarthi continued to present me with food. Not wanting to be rude, I accepted until I could no longer consume one more morsel. Now I was convinced that she was attempting to lure me into a food comma from which I would never wake.

Can't . . . Move.

I attended a Buddhist church once many years ago. One of the sermons stood out to me in a very profound way: the speaker compared humanity to a vine of pumpkins – we are individual, yet connected – therefore when one suffers, we all do and when one rejoices, we all share in that as well. I’ve always thought this is a beautiful concept. Vijay gave me yet another viewpoint of this concept. He spoke of an invisible line that connects us all and when I think of another and smile, this is how we are connected and this is the friendship we share.

Pavarthi and Vijay showed me breathing exercises to help me circulate more oxygen and endorphins into my brain. I always feel rejuvenated when I do them and am finding they fit in nicely when I light one of my candles at night.

I have struggled a good deal lately with my sense of self worth and there are many reasons and events tied into this. Pavarthi and Vijay made a point of telling me how impressive and wonderful I am. They told me of a teacher in India whom they worked with for many years and his message was this, “Love ever and hurt never.” First, never hurt yourself; then learn not to hurt others. I am working on loving myself. I find it very difficult at times when I feel so alone, but then I think of the pumpkins on the vine and invisible line and smile to myself.

I think Universe and the Divine work in ways I could never possibly understand. I had been hurting for such a long time and then I met Pavarthi and Vijay who have emitted such a comforting and radiant light into my life. My only regret is that I hadn’t met them sooner. They will be heading off for a road trip soon before they return to India. They have declared themselves my godparents. Yay! I’ve never had godparents.  

I was recently gifted a very large container of Mocha Rocha and instructed to consume every calorie and not share with anyone. Of course, the givers of such a delicacy were Vijay and Pavarthi with a very touching note attached that says, ‘Sweet Mocha Rocha for Sweet Ava’.

Pavarthi tells me that one of her prayers for me is to get married and have children. I smiled as she revealed this; I’ve secretly always wanted to be a soccer mom. On our last encounter, Pavarthi wagged her finger at me and said, “You will come to Bangalor!’ Yes, Love, I will. Touch wood. Touch Gold. May it be so. Namaste. 

My godparents and me. I miss you already. 

“Your task is not to seek for Love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.” 
~ Rumi

Roly-Poly

Over the weekend I picked out small gifts for Pavarthi and Vijay. It was a bit difficult because at this point I had not yet met Vijay and I also didn’t want to give anything too big because they are traveling soon and shouldn’t have to lug anything cumbersome with them. As I looked through items at my favorite store, I went back in my mind to a conversation Pavarthi and I had about god, or the unmanifest, or whatever it may be.

We both believe in a higher power, and we both like to think of said higher power as female. Perhaps for Pavarthi this is not such a big thing. For me to admit this is nearly blasphemy to many. Growing up in a Western culture in which God is white and male, I struggled to perceive how such an entity could possibly understand me. For me think of a supreme being as female allows me to feel more at one with the divine.

She works in mysterious ways . . .. 

In the end, I chose a few things that I hoped would find meaning with them. They were small items, but one would have thought by their constant expression of gratitude that I had bestowed them with a mountain of gold. 

The day of their anniversary, Pavarthi came to my desk and told me she got their anniversary and Vijay’s birthday mixed up (they are only a week apart, after all). We laughed at this mishap and I wrote a note on the outside of my handmade envelope for their handmade card, which I had already sealed.

Vijay was every bit as charming as his wife. I think of them both as the friendliest, sweetest people to have ever graced the earth. We talked on the drive to the restaurant. Pavarthi asked me if I had heard from my grandfather lately. I explained that while I most certainly don’t want to go through the rest of my life this way, I can’t communicate with him because he is associated with far too many bad things in my life. Cutting any form of stress out of my life has been necessary for my survival. I don’t want to live cut off from the rest of the world, but for now it is necessary. Much to my surprise, Vijay and Pavarthi understood. I’ve grown ftoo used to others calling me a negative person because I am hurt by the actions of someone and because it is necessary for me to cut off communication for now, I am labeled as cold hearted and unforgiving.

Sometimes we have to let things go before we can be whole again. 

Over dinner I was once again enamored with Pavarthi’s essence. Her expressions and act of reverence for everyone and everything in her life is refreshing and eye opening at the same time. I lost count of how many times she would say, “Touch wood; touch gold.” She would then bring her hands to Namaste. I confess I was amused by this variation of the idiom, as I had never heard it before.

My time with them afforded me the privilege of a glimpse into their lives and that of Indian culture. As she promptly piled an immense amount of food onto my plate, Pavarthi explained that it is customary to serve guests before you eat yourself. I also learned that to refuse food is seen as being polite . . . . for the love of all that is holy, my dress was ripping at the seams because she insisted that I continue to eat more food.  Every time my plate was nearly empty, Pavarthi quickly served me more. She told me that when a guest becomes angry you know they’ve truly had enough. * Note to self, work on anger when eating with Indians.

Please! I can't take any more!

After feeding me to near and certain death, Pavarthi said, "Now you know why we wear saris because we are such roly-polies." No sooner had she made this statement than she ordered me an Indian delicacy with extra sauce . . .  

 . . .  and this is how I felt when they were done with me . . . .

The interactions between Pavarthi and Vijay displayed the affections of a couple that love each other deeply and are the best of friends. In fact, I was shocked to learn that their marriage was arranged. It wasn’t until later in the evening that I understood. When my face reflected my surprise at the news that their marriage was arranged, Vijay said he could understand, because any good relationship is based on love. He didn’t say it, but it was obvious that their way of life is love. 

Pavarthi

“The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched, they must be felt with the heart.” ~ Helen Keller

I remember when I first saw her. My heart felt like leaping for joy out of my chest. It was as if I crossed paths with someone I knew from eons ago and loved deeply and had been separated from for a very long time. My soul knew her. I desperately wanted to hug her. Growing up in Western culture, I have been trained to respect the personal space of others and have long grown past the age of random hugging being perceived as acceptable. This is just not done because it comes across as creepy and, in extreme cases, can land someone with a harassment lawsuit.

We exchanged smiles and she introduced herself and welcomed me to the research lab. Her name is Pavarthi (pronounced just like ‘poverty’). I was left in awe of this mysterious woman in a sari who emanated such a vibrant light; in many ways she is one of the most beautiful creatures on earth.

A few days later, Pavarthi came to my desk and asked me to scan some documents for her. We started to chat. She told me an embarrassing story from childhood. In turn, I shared a similar story from my own life which was embarrassing to me at the time because there was no female figure in my life to help me understand – only a grandfather who was probably just as uncomfortable as me. This is when she took my hand, looked me directly in the eyes and said, “I am your second mother.”

This is about when I my eyes welled up with tears and I hugged her. She told me god is in me. It makes sense, not that I think about it. A common Indian greeting is “Namaste” which means, “The Divine in me honors the Divine in you.” I’ve always thought this was particularly beautiful. This touched me, as I have set my spiritual self to the side for a time while I focused on pulling myself out of a very dark place. Perhaps a sense of spirituality would have eased the process, but I felt this was something I had to conquer on my own.

The next day, Pavarthi came to my desk and told me that she and her husband Vijay were celebrating their 31^st wedding anniversary. They have not had any children, and would love for me to come and celebrate with them. I was touched and floored at the same time. Me? Really? I’ve never thought of myself as a particularly loveable person and she extentded nothing but love towards me. 

"Friendship isn't about whom you have known the longest . . . It's about who came and never left your side." 

What I Really Think About You, Portland

I think Portland is a wonderful place . . .to visit. I've been in Portland, OR for nearly 5 years now, and I still don't feel at home here. In fact, I don't think I'll ever claim to be from Portland, OR; the shame is too much for me to stomach. I'm home sick and I miss down to earth people . . . Portland is also severely lacking in ethnicity and I feel like I'm slowly descending into madness; the reflection from the masses of white skin is slowly burning my retinas.

This is still too vanilla for my liking.

The overall smugness of this place is getting to me. What's the point of doing good for your neighbor, a stranger, a woman in a foreign village in Africa or the environment if you're going to brag about it for the rest of your life? I think one of the worst offenses in this world is when an act is presented as kind and genuine when the underlying motives are social status and personal gain. 

I'm doing this for you because I want to help you . . . and I also want a press release to inform the nation of my generosity. 

Portland has been referred to as one of the most environmentally friendly ('green') cities in the world. There are many forms of public transit. Consequently, many don't own a car. In fact, this is encouraged. Parking anywhere in the SW side is nearly impossible not to mention expensive. Park on campus at Portland State University because you're a student? Forget about it! That will run you nearly $100 a week. I think Portland's lesser known motto is 'Welcome to Portland! You can't park here . . . '

Seriously; don't do it. Your vehicle will be worked over with a sledgehammer, flipped over by an angry mob, set on fire and then 'decorated' with environmentalist slogans. You're welcome. 

Now, if you happen to live in an 'upper class' neighborhood, public transit nearly refuses to operate in the area. I suppose it's their way of keeping the unsavory individuals out. You're only option is to drive, and you should sure as heck hope that you don't have to do anything on the SW side. I suppose that doesn't matter, because everyone has more money than they know what to do with in these wretched hoity-toity neighborhoods.

Portland claims to give its residents a better way of living . . . there's no sales tax! You know what this means? Residents are taxed in ways they couldn't even begin to comprehend. Residents would never notice this because they've either lived in this city their whole lives and know nothing else, or are just too stoned to care. Personally, I hate feeling like I've been fisted with a sandpaper glove every time I receive my paycheck. For someone like the hipster, this doesn't matter. Nothing matters to the hipster.

The hipster was formally thought to be a mythical creature that has origins in Portland, OR. It turns out the legend of the hipster was true, and they're attracted to and mimic overall douchbaggery. The 'green' lifestyle is a popular thing in this area, and hipsters make every attempt to try to be more 'green' than the next person.

The 'green' environment in Portland is an ignis fatuus to cover up the major underground pot plantations. Those that claim to be green, particularly the ignorant hipster prick, wail about the environment and the nation's pursuit of oil. As they're expressing their frustration with how horrible we are to our environment, the ignorant hipster prick is working through his 3rd pack of cigarettes for the day.  The ignorant hipster prick is someone who will yell at you for eating meat or driving a car, because these things are not green and harmful to the environment, as they take the last drag of their cigarette and pile onto a bus that transports them to their home nearly 30 miles away.
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Actually, it's the Pacific NW . . .  you're doing it wrong. 

Not everyone falls into the hipster group. There are many that saddle the fence between sane people and the Highest Order of Douchbaggery. Some of Portland's residents are extremely dedicated environmentalists. These folks sell things on craft sites that are made with their bare hands. Supplies from these products, yarn for example, are grown organically in the highest mountains of Peru and purchased for fair trade prices. This yarn is then shipped to Argentina, where it is processed for the crafter and from there, finally shipped to the crafter. The crafter receives the yarn obtained through pure goodness and fair practice, makes it into something, and then ship it yet again to buyers of the product. Now how environmentally friendly is that, a**hole?!

They really mean it. In fact, they'll gladly put you out of your misery so they can enjoy the planet . . . . without you. 

Then there's the recent incident at one of the city parks. This particular park is connected to many trails. When one is hiking on one of these trail circuits, there are frequent signs posted throughout warning of a fine for dogs off leash and to stay on the trails to 'protect the habitat.' I resent these signs and let my dogs roam freely. Why? Because it was less than a month ago that over 50 trees where cut down so that people could enjoy the view of the mountain from the top of this park. Obviously there isn't much real concern for the natural habitat. I'm also sick and tired of hearing yuppies in this area talk about 'the view'. You know what? I could care less about your stinking view. In fact, when I get a home of my own, I'll buy it in the worst neighborhood that ever existed and create my own view with a super awesome garden . . . take that yuppies with your city view.

My dream garden, where I'll be planting trees instead of cutting them down. By definition, this makes me better than you. 

Now let's consider the vegan community. I don't have anything against vegans unless they live in Portland because Portland turns vegans into ultramegatron a-holes. When I do something, I do it based off my own convictions, not because it's the trendy thing to do. Veganism, vegetarianism, and environmentally friendly are very trendy lifestyles here. I cringed when I first shopped at a second hand store in Portland. I didn't understand why the prices were so high.  As it turns out, it's trendy in Portland. I shop at second hand stores because I'm one of the most resourceful folks you'll ever meet. I do it for survival, not because it's the 'in' thing. I also resent that when something is purchased from a second hand store in Portland, it is now referred to as 'vintage'. Really?

I love this woman: "It's not vintage, stupid. It's second hand."

I still shop at second hand stores, but I am no longer am a vegan or vegetarian. Granted, this doesn't mean that I eat meat like it's the last resource on earth. I rarely touch it, but I do not care to be associated with this crowd any longer. If I am a guest in someone's house and meat is prepared for me, I eat it without saying a word because they have been kind enough to offer me food and it would be a horrendous waste and unneeded offense to not eat what has graciously been given to me. I have heard some pretty nasty things come out of the lips in the vegan community regarding this practice. Also, feather earrings and anything that even closely resemble leather is a big no-no. You know what? You stick to your values and don't mind my own. I refused to be criticized for behavior in which there is no fault.

There's a saying here that the residents are quite proud of, "Keep Portland Weird." I think 'Portland is an insane asylum' is closer to the truth. The Occupy movement landed in this city in full force and chaos ensued. I did make my way down to one of their events to see what the Occupiers were all about; I was on the side protesting their existence. That experience is another story. What I took away from this is that the majority of those involved with Occupy had no idea why they were there. When questioned, some would spout of very vague answers and tell me that 'We're doing this for you.' What are you doing? Destroying a city park and wreaking havoc downtown? The response was that the entire thing has been misrepresented in the media and that media is a horrible entity that can't be trusted . . . . I saw the videos posted by Occupy members and bystanders and made my opinion based on the 'incriminating' videos of law enforcement.

Occupy has died down lately, I'm not sure if this is because of the cold and rain, or because at long last the movement has realized that camping in a park, taking over vacant homes, and marching through downtown during business hours isn't doing anything because there is no real action on their part.While those involved in this group complained about how evil and corrupt corporations are, they slept in tents from REI and kept like-minded folks informed of the Occupy status from their iphones and mac computers. That's the definition of a hypocrite if I ever saw one.

Tell me again why you're protesting capitalism? Corporations and material goods?  

I'm going to step off of my soap box for now. In the meantime, I'm working towards an escape back to California where there are people that are sane. 

Madness

Today I felt it pass over me, a breath of wind from the wings of madness.

~ Charles Baudelaire

I have made extreme efforts to keep the negativity out of my life, and it still seems to manage to find me. Some of the stories I'm about to share may make your jaw drop, but I merely relay them as an example of the type of people I attract into my life.


As noted from my last blog, I had a run in with a total douche bag. The experience left a bad taste in my mouth. After a little over a month of the silent treatment, douchebag got the hint and I haven't heard from him since. Win!


Unfortunately, the fuckery didn't stop there. I have been involved with some interesting folks since then, and I didn't figure out how I was attracting the unsavory type until recently.


First, there was a gal I met through work. She seemed nice enough. I will call her Helga.  We planned to spend some time on Sunday together over coffee. It was a hot day and we decided to beat the heat. This turned into me gathering my pups and driving us out to the river. Cassie swam and barked after the geese while Merlin howled on the shore because he was too much of a weenie to get into the water. Eventually, he gave up and stole bread from the children feeding the ducks and geese. True story.


On the same day as our outing, Helga decided she wanted a dog and insisted we head out to the Humane Society. She scoured the site for dogs she was interested in as I drove, attempting to navigate my way through unfamiliar territory. She seemed impulsive, flighty even, in her decisions. There was an underlying madness to her. Sure, I've run into people like her in my lifetime before - but I had to pay admission.


Upon arriving at the Humane Society, Helga immediately saw several dogs that peaked her fancy. I tried to explain to her that she could not just simply take the dog out, she had to go talk to the administrative staff in the front. The ever impatient and impulsive Helga (ID comes to mind now that I think of it), refused to listen to me and instead attempted to assault the first staff worker she saw. Helga was told by the staff worker that she had to talk to the administrative staff at the front.


This process was repeated 4 times before Helga decided to place a hold on a dog. We drove back to my house so she could pick up her car. I received a text the next day indicating that she got a puppy and I should bring Cassie and Merlin over to see it. This is where her behavior started to make me angry.

I arrive at her place with my dogs in tow. Helga is sitting on the steps of her house with a puppy in her lap freaking out because the pup she purchased from Craigslist has fleas . . . this doesn't surprise me one bit. As Helga goes back and forth from the seller of the pup over taking back the dog, I suggest that she look up a natural remedy for flea removal. By this time, the vet offices were closed that nothing could be done for wee little pup. Helga intended to keep the dog chained outside to her front porch. I think not.


As I assist Helga in giving the pup a lavender bath and spend the next two hours picking fleas off of the poor little darling, I ask Helga if she's fed the dog. Helga says she bought the dog Greenies and intended to give it cat food. Also not happening. I search through my car and give the pup the only wholesome dog biscuit I could find so she wouldn't starve. I also learn at this time that Helga has locked her boyfriend's cat in a room with nothing but his litter box, food and water for the week while her boyfriend is gone because she hates the cat. Helga also claimed she would not clean the litter box.


I leave late that night, considering what to do about the puppy. It's not Helga that I care to be entangled with at the moment, but I refuse to let an animal suffer if I can keep it from a stupid and neglectful owner. The next morning, I receive a text from Helga saying that she sold the puppy and was SO happy about it. She had the poor little darling for less than 12 hours.


I was relieved that puppy went on to greener and more sane pastures. I left for the weekend to go camping. I received a picture text from Helga that weekend showing me her new puppy . . . the crazy bitch got another one. May God have mercy on its poor, furry soul.


Then there's Jeb. I give him that name because it is reminiscent of white trash and this may very well be where he's sprung from. I took a psychology class with Jeb in the spring term. I don't know why, but many of the craziest folks I've ever met emerge from the depths of the psychology department. This makes worry sometimes if I'm heading in the right direction.

Jeb and I would have the occasional drink after class where we'd stuff our faces with bad bar food and shoot the breeze. Jeb and I eventually re-connected when we were done with summer term. I was still reeling with emotions of self hatred from an unfortunate event in my life. Jeb's form of medication was to get me drunk off my ass and continuously call me 'Darlin' . . . I don't think this works well. Jeb got scary very quickly. It sounded to me as if he were putting himself out there as a hit man. Perhaps I misheard him. I hope I misheard him.


Then the subject of Africa comes up. Jeb tells me he's tired of hearing about dumb American's going to Africa and thinking that no one can touch them because of their nationality. I can't remember exactly what else he said to me, but I do know that it upset me very greatly and I cried about it for hours. I called a friend who calmed me down, telling me that even if I never get to Congo, the desire to want to go is a noble one and I should be commended. I later wound up in a pagan shop after the phone ending my phone call with my friend.

This country and these women will always have a place in my heart. These women are so strong, and so beautiful because of their strength. 

I recently received a text from Jeb, over a month after he left me balling my eyes out. He said he was sorry about what he said about Africa and that he cares about me and gets protective. What? How can you care about someone you barely know? Also, if he were that protective he would be here with me, helping me regain my self respect.


I reconnected with some childhood friends on facebook. One of which I dated in high school. He's now a cage fighter. This doesn't surprise me. Over the process of our exchange of e-mails and catching up, I learn that he and his wife have divorced. Upon learning this, I ask Mr. Cage Fighter if I can call him. My intentions were to see if he was okay. I sent him a text, he said it was all 'same shit different day.' Umm . . . . okay. I know we all process things differently. Five minutes later, I receive a text of his chiseled abs and he tells me I'm sexy. I'm not impressed.


There are other areas of madness in my life, but if I spoke of each one in detail this would go on forever. I'm trying to regain my footing. 

Douche Baggery

"Consider how hard it is to change yourself and you'll understand what little chance you have in trying to change others." ~ Benjamin Franklin

This is yet another tale from a chapter in my crazy life. I realized long ago that I have a knack for attracting the odd, inconsiderate, obsessed and self absorbed . . . it must be a gift. I do have some fabulous folks in my life and they are very dear to me. When I think about the 'colorful' people that cross my path on what feels like a daily basis, I am grateful to have such great friends that bring a sense of normalcy to all of the chaos.

I had a recent encounter (several actually) with one who can be considered a vegan douche bag. A vegan douche bag is a vegan who alienates others for not being vegan or not strict enough of a vegan and takes a sickening pleasure in pointing out that something isn't vegan. Vegan douche bags typically enjoy smelling their own farts because they are so smug.

I haven't met many vegans. I do have a cousin who is a vegan, and I love her dearly. Aside from her, the other vegans I've met are self-righteous douche bags. If vegans care about animal rights, support local farmers and eat healthy, why is it that they are consistently such royal pricks (my cousin excluded, of course)? I think the answer is simple - vegan douche bags are completely out of touch with normal people. In order to get a meal that suits their requirements, they will either eat at a vegan restaurant or shop at vegan specialty stores. As a result, these douche bags spend far too much time with other douche bags and the douche baggery acts as a contagious fanaticism that gives one the feeling of superiority over others . . . because obviously they care more about the environment than a meat eater ever could and their actions are more humane, despite how they treat others on a daily basis.

I myself have been a vegetarian for many years. I limit my dairy intake because I'm semi lactose intolerant . . . . and sometimes I cheat on these two things. On rare occasions I eat sushi and will from time to time eat dairy. However, even if I lived this lifestyle in the strictest sense, I would never presume to tell anyone what they should consume, what a horrible thing it is their doing, etc. If one asks me why I don't eat meat, I tell them it's because I think all living creatures should be treated humanely. End of story. I never say anything more than that. Fanaticism in any form is never a good thing, whether it be lifestyle choices, religion, morals, or anything else that is a personal choice or way of life. Things start to decline pretty rapidly when we start to think we're superior to others.

Now onto my story. I met the vegan douche bag a several weeks ago. Vegan douche bag seemed harmless. He had just broke his foot before I met him in person. I knew there wasn't any possible way under the sun that he could physically harm me.  In fact, if he made the wrong move, I intended to step on his foot and run. This was a foolproof plan. What do I do for our first meeting? From talking to him in our brief encounters, it sounded like he was having a rough week. I offered to make him dinner while simultaneously threatening the sanctity of his broken foot should he try anything.

He seemed down to earth, a vegan, an animal lover, open minded and the creative type. Word. I've learned however, that people present themselves quite differently than they really are when initial friendships or some form of relationship is being established. This is something I don't quite understand yet. I've always been an honest and open person. 

I think the evening went well. We chatted while I cooked and then watched a comedy sketch. Thus began a friendship that lasted a little over a two months. Because vegan douche bag had recently broke his foot and had no vehicle of his own, I offered to help him get to class. As a fellow college student, I felt it somewhat of a duty to help another psych major in need. VDB is taking courses at one of Portland's man community colleges and wants to work the GLBTQ community.

Driving him to and from his campus was a whole other thing entirely. I go to PSU in SW. Vegan douche bag lives on the other side of the river and goes to campus in yet another section of town (about a 15 minute drive from his house). This turned out to be a heavy load of driving. In fact, within less than a week's time, I had put 76 miles on my car. I rarely drive my car. 

As it turns out, this didn't just include driving him to and from campus. He needed stops at the grocery store and several outings to find the perfect get up for a vegan prom. I didn't know that events such as this exist, but this is Portland after all. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised because I just marched in the first annual Slut Walk.

Vegan douche bag talked to me a lot about his relationships. He's had many. In fact, I'd say he's a bit of a man whore. When I first started hanging out with VDB, he talked about a couple of other gals quite a bit. He didn't say that he was sleeping around with them, but I think I'm smart enough to put two and two together. This later came up in conversation. He seemed surprised that I'd figured out it. Not only did VDB say that he was the 'perfect boyfriend', he also said he has the 'perfect cock'. His exact words, not mine. Umm . . . . why would I care if you have a rooster?

For the record. THIS is the perfect cock. 

The fact that there were other gals in the picture didn't bother me. I didn't want a relationship, only a friend. I ended up not liking what I learned from him and this is sometimes how it goes. He mentioned many of his relationships. I commented that out of my handful of relationships there's only been one that I've ever loved. VDB looks at me with an odd expression in his eyes, "And you walked away?" Considering the circumstances, I think I had to. You can't judge someone without knowing the whole story. On that note, there are two sides to every story, and this is mine.

It starts with his outing to the vegan prom. VDB tells me that he's going out with a group of people he hasn't met before and a gal who is to be his date was heading over to his place to get ready and they would leave together. I went off to a movie screening for 'Happy'. If you have not yet seen this documentary go do so immediately. This is one amazing film. At any rate, I receive a text around 9:30 from VDB asking me to come over right away. I gathered that something really awful had happened, as he was supposed to be living it up doing whatever it is that vegans do at a prom.

I showed up maybe half an hour later and wasn't prepared for what awaited me. VDB was in a fury. He kept going on and on about how he felt 'disrespected' and 'lied to.' The cause for this douche baggery kind of rage? His date was transgendered. She had had the full blown operation. When she broke the news to VDB, he decided he couldn't handle it and didn't want to go to the vegan prom with her. He left her at the bus stop.

As the vegan douche bag continued to carry on about how disrespected he was by this whole scenario, I said this, "Isn't this the line of work you're going into?" I thought it was a legitimate question. VDB took offense to this. I then spent the next half hour assuring him that I wasn't being condescending, I was only trying to understand where he was coming from. To be honest, I still don't understand his point of view.  

Then there were other things that slowly grated on my nerves. Eventually, I realized I just couldn't handle any more of his antics. I told myself that I should be patient and understanding because he was going through a difficult and frustrating time. No doubt nearly going on a date with a transgender left a very deep scar on his psyche. I don't think this can excuse douche bag behavior. I've been going through one hell of a time myself and I've never taken it out on anyone and I never for one instant think that my pain is unique. There are always things in life to be grateful for. Always.

VDB took an odd pleasure in pointing out things that I consumed or purchased that weren't vegan. Soy cheese? "Oh, look. It's got milk protein. It's not vegan." Feather earrings: "When did you buy them? Oh, it was a while ago, so it's okay." Soy caramel macchiato? "That caramel sauce has dairy." There was even a time I reached for a splenda for my tea. His response, "Splenda is bad for you." For the love of all that is sacred and holy! I do what I can. End of story. If I have feather earrings that I like to wear, I'm sure as heck going to wear them. In fact, I may even wear them to a vegan prom just to make a point.

Recycling? This is one that really got me. An excessive recycler, VDB reused damn near everything. I don't see anything wrong with this; in fact, I think it's quite admirable. This is something that I only find bothersome when someone steps into douche bag territory. VDB is a fan of Starbucks.  He reuses his plastic venti cold cups. What makes more sense to me is purchasing a reusable cup in the first place and reusing that one over and over. Not VDB; he has a small collection of these wretched plastic cups. We had stopped at Starbucks and then went to the park. I finished my dairy infused caramel macchiato with soy and went to the nearest trash receptacle to toss my cup. VDB looks at me in disgust, "Isn't that recyclable?" I peer at the cup and can't find a recycle symbol on it and then I reply to his question with a 'no.' VDB then says, "Well, just remember you're contributing to the landfill."

Does anyone know where I can find this product? 

REALLY? The fact that I was hauling your arse around to hell and back, filling up the air with so much pollution that we'd all choke on exhaust, get cancer and then bake under the sun while our lungs rupture and we all slowly die from internal bleeding was not a concern for you, but this one plastic cup is a problem? I think there is a double standard here and I do not like it.

I had a dinner at my house last week. I asked VDB if he wished to join us. It was a thank you for the most awesome TA I've ever met. She's given me so much support. I don't know what I'd do without her. It would have been lovely, but VDB let out his douche baggery in full swing. I didn't hear most of the conversation because I was busy cooking, but I could gather that he was being a buzz kill. It's one thing to be a douche bag to me, but be a douche bag to my friends and family is another thing entirely. I will then save all of your sins against you and blog about them for the world to see. Luckily for the douche bags of the world that I'm not spiteful enough to include names in my antics.

*On a side note, while at my home, I learn that the vegan doesn't care for dogs. How can a self proclaimed animal lover not like dogs? Particularly my dogs. Not to brag, but my two furry ones have won over even the harshest critics. The vegan doesn't like my dogs. He thinks they're smelly and drool. This is true, they are dogs and dogs do have these traits. I love them regardless.*

His douche baggery didn't stop there, either. Here are a couple more snippets from my encounters with the fanatic douche bag. During the process of the brief time I knew him, VDB informs me that his very good friend suddenly died in a car accident. I'm not making light of this. I think it's horrible and I wouldn't wish this kind of thing on anyone. This was all he talked about for weeks. I for one, have experienced so much death in my life that I fear I'm numb to it. I literally have no reaction at all. I listened to what he had to say. I couldn't say anything in response, because I didn't feel any of my words could be uplifting, particularly considering the emotions I was trying to sort out from recent events. VDB then says to me one day, "I don't know if you've ever experienced loss before, but you can't imagine . . . " I quite literally wanted to slap him across the face. He knew that I'd lost a good deal of those close to me at a young age. I think that's an inconsiderate thing to say to anyone,  particularly someone with life experiences such as mine. Again, I don't pretend that my pain is unique, but I do understand what it feels like to lose and grieve.

VDB wanted me to talk about an assault that occurred a while ago, but recent enough for me to still be in the midst of processing everything, trying to make sense of it, and moving on. I honestly wasn't ready for it, but I tried because I figured he was trying to help me. While I reeling from waves of nausea from even letting this unfortunate event cross my mind, VDB says, "You know, you should take back what's yours and just have sex." One can only assume that he meant my sexuality. I have news for you VDB, my sexuality is my own and I'll move on when I'm damn well ready. For now, no one touches me without permission.

Our brief friendship came to a crashing halt when he began to take everything I say far too personally and for no good reason. VDB got a new roommate. She's from Boston. According to VDB, he knows her really well . . . although he only spoke with her online and never met her in person before she arrived. When she arrived, she came with a guy who helped her move in. This really seemed to bother VDB. He was obsessed with his roommate's relationship with this guy. In fact, it's all he talked about. He continued to rant about it one morning while I'm driving and he's in the passenger seat. I say that I just assumed he was interested in her because he was so concerned about her relationship with this guy. VDB is irate. He tells me I can't assume things because it breaks down communication. As it turns out, if I had asked this in a question form, all would be fine in his mind and it really boils down to an issue of semantics.

I could care less who he's interested in. It seemed like the natural conclusion to make in reference to his new roommate  I remember telling VDB that I was meeting up with an old friend for coffee. The first thing that pops out of his mouth is this, "Are you going to sleep together?" I'm not one to be easily offended, but now that I reflect on that scenario, I think I should have been. I'm learning from these experiences; I guess that's all I can ask.

This brings me to the final and last straw. This was the same day I learned that caramel sauce contains dairy and I am a dirty sinner because I didn't recycle one plastic cup. VDB and I stopped and Starbucks and went to the park. After which he wanted to stop off at the bank. He sees a smoke shop next door and wants to look around, then another shop across the street. I'm really not in the mood for any of this, but I'm tagging along because I figured he needed company and needed to be out of his apartment because he didn't seem to care for his new roommate, her boyfriend who stayed for a few days, or anything else in his life.

We make a stop at New Season's. On our way in, we pass a girl juggling on the street for money. She drops and fumbles with her items as we pass by. VDB then remarks, "I think I distracted her." While we're in the store, VDB looks at me and says, "You must be bored out of your mind." I smile and say, "It's no big deal. You have things to do and I have a car." I really didn't mean anything by this. He gets angry with me again saying that I'm assuming he only wants to hang out with me because I have a car. Quite frankly, the thought hadn't crossed my mind until he responded to me with his channeled fury of which I was beginning to grow quite tired. 

This was my breaking point. I rarely get angry and I can't even recall a time when I cussed at another human being out of anger. I told him that he was getting mad over the most stupid f*cking things and he needed to stop. VDB said nothing. He continued walking. We exit the store, I'm walking ahead of him because I can't stand to look at his douche bag face at the moment. He leaves a dollar with the juggling girl and catches up with me.

We then get to my car. He leaves the door open and his foot hanging out. He insists he's done nothing wrong. I tell him to close the door because he's draining the overhead light and I'm ready to leave. I drive him home. He says he's trying to talk to me. I tell him that's not happening and I head home.

Tonight, I received a text from VDB saying he's sorry and we should move past this. I tell him I don't think so. I've got enough on my hands and don't need or want any unnecessary drama in my life. He then responds with this, "I sort of predicted your reaction." Who's assuming now, douche bag?

I think this is only driving the point home that I'm not ready for the dating world whatsoever. Even if it's just hanging out, meeting up for coffee and going to the park while I simultaneously burn a hole in the ozone layer because of the mileage I'm driving. I can't handle this - I have to reconnect with myself first.

I remember thinking when VDB reacted so hotly to the situation with the transgender that he was a dramatic douche bag, but kept telling myself that he needed someone with patience and understanding to help him through his tough time. No, what really happened is that my intuition was correct and I shut it out. When I finally learn to listen to myself perhaps I'll dip my toe back into the water. For now, I'm staying away from the pond.

"Your mind knows only some things. Your inner voice, your instinct, knows everything. If you listen to what you know instinctively, it will always lead you down the right path." ~ Henry Winkler