Don’t Want To Wait Anymore in Open Diary 2001-2018 (Pre-Prosebox)

Oh where oh where do I even start?

Looks like my boss is checking out. I think he’s going to be leaving us soon. This scares the piss out of me because he has been my biggest supporter. As much as I bitch about him, he sings my praises all over creation and I fear that I won’t ever have a boss as cool as he’s been (with a few dickish exceptions, but hey…he’s the boss, so he’s allowed…even expected to be a dick every now and then, right?).

Yeah, so he’s working on some secret assignment in New York right now. I have a feeling that he’s going for president of one of our sister companies. He’s definitely good enough to get it, and I know the spot is open. I say he should go for it and then I’ll apply to be a part of his team! That would rock oh so very hard. We’ll see.

But the thought of his successor back here at the ranch scares me. There are a couple of people who I could guess will fill his shoes, and the thought of either of them makes me shudder. Uck.

I know, I’m speculating. But something major is about to happen, and I don’t want to be caught with my pants down.

Speaking of pants down, Scott called me first thing this morning. I thought karma was catching up with me for blowing off Ryan the Councilman. But I guess since I called him yesterday to apologize for blowing him off, my karma might have been turned back around. And yes, after a weekend of the old blow-off, Scott called to check in. I don’t know if this is a good thing or a bad thing. I guess it’s just a thing.

I told Scott that I am actually going to be in town for the next couple of weeks just in case he decides to ask me out. Not sure how he took that, but he did ask what nights I’m going to be free this week. Problem is, at the time he asked, I was busy working on several things at once: getting ready for two very important meetings and a magazine interview that I had this afternoon. So he told me that I sounded distracted (duh!) and that he’d call me later. I even called later this afternoon to tell him that I could talk to him distraction-free, and still no call back.

Big baby. He calls me at work and then wonders why he doesn’t have my undivided attention? Just like he decides to just drop by the office unannounced a couple of weeks ago and then wonders why I don’t drop everything and wrap myself around him and let him whisk me off for an afternoon break? Puh-lease. He may have had girlfriends who have fluffy jobs that allow them that flexibility at all times in his past. But I don’t. I’m sorry. I bust ass for a living. And I simply can’t drop everything every time he has a whim.

And then there’s Quentin, who last week told me that because of my crazy schedule, he didn’t really want to invest the time to “woo” me in the old-fashioned way that I expect to be wooed. It would simply take too long.

Grrrrrrr!!! I get it and I see their points. But I’m not always on the road. I don’t always work until 9 and 10 and 11 at night. Sure, I do it more often than most…but I DO have time for a boyfriend. Or at least a date every now and then. Yes, it does have to be on my terms most of the time. But what ever happened to working at least a little for a relationship? I promise I’m willing to compromise!! I promise it will be worth someone’s time!! Why doesn’t anyone have the patience to date me?

I’m frustrated.

In other obsessive news, I googled my ex-boyfriend, Sam for the umpteenth time in the past few months. Not sure why I keep doing this. I guess I just keep thinking that something about him is going to pop up out of the blue. Well, I decided to just plug in his name as a web address (you know, like http://www.firstnamelastname.com), and whaddyaknow? There he was in all his glory! I guess he’d just bought his name and made a makeshift quickie website. But it freaked my shit right out! And I suppose it made me feel kind of better because he’d posted a photo of himself that was downright plain as hell. I think I’d worked up an image of him in my head that was pure perfection. I mean, he looked okay. Older. But not hotter. Definitely not as hot as when we dated ten years ago. Maybe I’ll finally give the fantasy a rest and let this relationship go.

Finally. I feel a strange sense of relief. Like I’m really not missing out.

The loft is taking longer to secure than I thought it would. I’m pushing my move date out further and further. Now it looks like mid-July or early August because of the floor. The concrete is damaged and they don’t want to fix it. They want to carpet it! I went to look at it last Friday when I got back into town, and I think it looks fine. Perfect, even. It’s a very OLD warehouse, for heavens sake! Built in 1889. I LIKE the imperfections in the floor. No carpet allowed!!! No way! Besides, when I buy the place, I’d only rip the carpet out again anyway. I’d rather there be nothing on the floor than some shitty wall-to-wall berber. Yuck.

And my new neighborhood sounds interesting. While I was in NY, Julie called to tell me that the body of a girl had been found in the trunk of a car and that someone had thrown a moltov cocktail into the window of a club. And that was just last week! I’m keeping my eye on that place. I guess I just thrive on excitement, eh?

Well. I’m sleepy. I need to get my beauty rest. Heh. I have to get a new publicity photo taken tomorrow. Our PR firm is going crazy with the interviews and the media lately. I guess it’s pretty cool. But what the hell am I going to wear tomorrow? It feels like school picture day. Wish I’d gotten a hair cut over the weekend.

Bluh.