Things that I've lost... and cake...

For some reason,  I've been plagued recently by the thoughts of things that I stupidly gave to exes/let exes borrow before I realized that they were going to be exes.  A few of these items in particular have been on my mind.  Let's just go chronologically...

- Harry Potter neck tie 

How did I get it? I bought that bad boy at the height of my Hot Topic days. I went with a girl named Sage, who was, at the time, my best friend.  Sage didn't bother to buy it, but she always wanted it.

Who has it? Dan -.-"

Why was I stupid enough to let him have it? We went to a Catholic high school complete with uniforms.  He needed a tie, and I had a fun one.  I figured I'd get it back at some point...

Horrible irony: Nope, I never got the tie back, but he totally wore it all the time after we stopped dating. Even when he was dating Sage AND a girl named Christine. (yep. At the same time.) So I saw my tie being pulled like a leash about once a week by either Sage or Christine.  As Dan used to say, "Ouch.  My soul."

- Original Skipper bracelet

How did I get it? I bought it in Canada in Epcot during my first college program.  I HAD to buy it in Canada because that is how it worked.  Skippers love Canada.  Why?  No idea.

Who has it? Zac -.-"

Why was I stupid enough to let him have it? I was leaving campus to head back home after visiting my old friends at Hope.  I forgot to put it on again in the morning, and he found it.  He decided to wear it til I went back.

Horrible irony: He got fatter (and consequently balder) before my last visit.  The bracelet was stretched out and disgusting when I saw it again.  By that point, I didn't even want it anymore.

- Fistful of Fig Newtons by Jean Shepherd and Pirates of the Caribbean 3

How did I get it? I bought the book at Barnes and Noble in December 2007.  Gui bought me Pirates 3.

Who has it? Gui -.-"

Why was I stupid enough to let him have it?  Around the time we first met/started working together, he asked if he could borrow one of my favorite books, so I let him borrow it.  Even when we were dating, I asked him for the book back several times.  He just kind of took the movie...?

Horrible irony:  I never got to finish reading Fistful of Fig Newtons, and I never watched my copy of Pirates 3. Deeeeepressing...

I'm not sure why I've been thinking about these things.  Maybe it was the conversation I had with a friend of mine about how his last ex had several of his stuffed penguins, and when they broke up, she threw them all away.  Or it could be the random, awkward, last attempt gifts from Gui.  He sent me a copy of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas for my birthday without signing the package or anything.  My guess is, he hoped I'd figure out who sent it (I totally did), and I'd text him saying thank you.  I didn't.  Instead, he texted me to say, "Did you randomly get a movie for your birthday, in the mail?" (Ugh... the inappropriate comma use was secretly one of the reasons why it would never work out...) I responded, "Yep. From you? Thank you."  I left it at that.  I haven't talked to him since.

More likely, though, is the guilt cake.  After all, you lose things in break ups, but there are plenty of things you gain.

I have a Spanish book, a physics workbook, and a few notes from Dan.

I have a Kill Bill poster, a scarf, a pillow, and a pair of socks (that I gave to my mother) from Zac.  The other stuff became bonfire fodder... the stuff from his current girlfriend (again, an old best friend) went to the same bonfire.

Gui gave me a few movies, an Oscar Wilde action figure, and some jewelry (which he wants back, but sad day, I don't have his address.).  He also gave me a recipe for his mother's orange rum cake.  This cake has now become "the guilt cake." 

I've made it since we broke up, and I think I'm better at it, but it's still the guilt cake.  It has been suggested that I should make it for another guy, and THEN it will become rebound cake.  But where will that end?  I'll eventually need "He's finally going to make an honest woman out of me" cake. 

Confessions of a Disgruntled Cat Person

I am not a dog person.  This really comes as a shock to me (but probably not to anyone else) because I always thought I was.  I had two dogs growing up, and I liked them both just fine.  I did NOT want to come to grips with being a cat person rather than a dog person—ever.  I was a girl and a dog person—not a cat person.  I thought that not being a cat person made me interesting or something.  I even dated guys who reminded me of dogs.  It seemed like a good idea, especially since I was never going to be a cat person.  Dogs are loyal, sweet, and smart, right?  Who wouldn’t like to date someone with those qualities (considering past relationships, this ended up being a horrible idea.)?  I even thought about how silly it was that my childhood dreams for my future (trophy wife, actress, coffee shop owner, librarian, someone who had an apartment…) had one thing that tied all of these other dreams together: the fact that I would have a cat.  As I grew up, the name of my feline companion changed from Heathcliff to Gatsby, but as sure as I loved Holden Caulfield, there was no way that I would ever call myself a cat person.  

I came to the “cat person” realization when I got my cat, Gideon.  I picked the kitten up from the middle of the road and cradled him in my shirt.  His eyes weren’t even open yet.  It was an easy transition for me to go into caregiver mode for this tiny, fluffy, potentially dehydrated and hungry kitten.  And I was even willing to thank God for rednecks since Tractor Supply Company allowed its patrons to take animals into the store so I could, at the very least, get him some water. While I was there, someone referred to him as my kitten, and, honestly, as soon as someone gives me leave to own a fluffy thing, I refuse to say no. Fluffy thing is MINE, and I am going to keep it. You go ahead and pry the fluffy thing from my clammy, dead fingers.  That’s pretty much how Gid and I have been ever since.

The whole “not being a dog person” thing didn’t hit until we got our dog Gilbert.  I was ridiculously excited about getting a dog, and I expected to take to the dog like I take to all fluffy things—if it ends up in my house, it is a family pet.  He is a good dog, sure enough, but somehow, he doesn’t feel like he’s mine.  Maybe it’s the way he tries to claim my pillows with the gusto of a drunken frat boy.  Maybe it’s the fact that he chases Gideon out of the living room.  Maybe it’s the way he eats cat crap.  Maybe it’s the way he barks when I come home late.  Maybe it’s the fact that I can’t just leave my food out anymore without hearing him howl and beg.  Maybe it’s how disgusting he smells.  Nope, I don't even like saying "I love you" to this dog because it would be a lie.  I think back to when Prof. Holt asked my class if we'd rather be stuck on a desert island with our pet or a significant other.  I honestly said, "Depends on the significant other and the pet."  Gideon vs. any of my exes?  Gideon wins hands down.  Gilbert or exes?  Sad day, it's a bit of a toss up.  

At any rate, I’m sitting in between him and Gideon right now.  Gideon is sitting up and looking as though he actually has some idea of what’s going on while Gilbert is looking at me all sheepishly with his gold eyes, stretching and all, with his ears purked up like if he had an extra brain cell or two, he’d totally have some clue about something. I’d say he knows I’m writing about him, but I doubt he’s that smart.  Instead, I think he just hopes that the cough drop I put in my mouth was a treat for him.