as long as there are stars above you

So much to post about.
Ok, so on the same floor as our office is this other company that we're all fairly friendly with -- like everyone says hi and possibly makes small talk in the bathrooms and hallways and elevators, but no one's best friends or anything. There was this one guy that I thought he was sorta hot. I confessed it to my co-workers once, and most everyone agreed (including Moody Famous-Hot Attorney). Though I believe the real reason people like him is because he's so damn jovial and charming and charasmatic. In a strange way. Like he's a total asshole suburban yuppie 'family man' former frat boy. But he has that weird talent of making you feel 'special' -- like he's really paying attention to you and interested in you, even when it's just while holding the elevator door for you. Scary charisma. But luckily, he's in headhunting, not fascism. So I'm not too worried about him.
ANYWAY, he's been gone for about 6 months.

Yesterday I left the office and stepped in front of two people coming down the hall from the other office. I don't really look at them, and just turned and walked toward the elevator, figuring I'll exchange pleasantries while waiting there. But one of the people was Charisma Man. And he says "Hey! I've been gone for months, and you don't write, you don't call...." and he's flashing his charming smile. I grin back, and say, "look, YOU'RE the one who left ME! You just walked out! I've waited by the phone everyday.....", and right before I got to the phone part, he said "oh, you bitch!"

I sorta paused.

Now, I sometime wonder about these other floor folks, especially the ones who've been around awhile, and used to run into me in the women's room, and now see me going into the men's room. But I think for the most part people are either okay with it, or just assume I'm a different person that looks like that other person. Plus, they have fairly high turnover rate, so there aren't that many folks who've been around the whole time I've transitioned. BUT, Charisma Man has spoken to me in the men's room. We had a conversation on shaving once when I commented on him shaving his goatee. And he's also had conversations with me and my former-co-worker Hip Mama, and she always called me "he" in front of people if they seemed to be waivering or questioning.

So. When he called me a "bitch", my first instinct was "oh my god, he's seeing me as female". Then my second thought was "oh my god, I can't believe he called me a bitch! that so wrong and sexist!". Then I realized....wait, he DOES see me as male, which is WHY he's calling me bitch. Because we were joking about having broken up. So is calling me a "bitch" homophobic? Or just a gay joke? Or none of the above? I was so confused. And this all happened in the span of 0.3 seconds. We got to the elevator, and I was like "so, really, where have you been?" and he said he was working in the suburban office doing a project. Then we got in the elevator with his co-worker, and that was the end.

But if he did want to make me his bitch, I might briefly entertain the notion.....

xmas carols have become smack.

The lite rock station is playing holiday songs. All day. I'm compelled, yet I feel simultaneously nauseated. It's like a McDonald's cheeseburger. The thought of throwing the radio across the room in a fit of over-emotion is tempting, except it's an inflatable radio that would just bounce comically. I also feel compelled to wear a bright red sweatshirt with some sort of holiday iron-on on the front. Why am I channelling my mother??

I forgot to mention that in therapy on Tuesday, I discussed in a little detail for the first time ever outloud to anyone about....certain aspects....of my active fantasy life, shall we say. And for the first time I did genuine interpretation and analysis on myself -- similar to dream interpretation, I guess. No, I'm not going to share any more detail here. I'm not that delusional about the nature of this journal. I'm just writing it down for when I go back later and read this, I'll remember. A genuine note to self.
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