If you can't say anything nice...

This weekend, I did something drastic.

I went into a salon*, picked a shade, and told a woman I'd never met to make my strawberry blond(ish) locks a deep shade of brunette.

The results are somewhat darker than what I'd chosen. (Read: Nearly black.)

The stylist's first words to me, before I even commented? It's not my fault! That's the color you picked! (Way to make me feel confident and fall in love with the look, lady.)

It's a dramatic change. And, because it isn't exactly what I was going for, the experience verged on the traumatic, but I think that's reigned in now. It's definitely growing on me.

Most of my friends say they like it. Travel Buddy said it suited me. You've read some of the things Travel Buddy says to me; he's not one to mince words or give false compliments.

So, why am I telling you this? Because some people I encounter almost daily didn't listen to their mommas when they were doling out cliched advice.

(With a look of horror) Why did you do that?!?

(Incredulously) Belle, what did you do to your hair? I liked it before! When will you change it back?

(Deadpan) It makes you look older. I don't know if that's what you were going for...

(With a screwed up look on her face) You like it?! Errr... okaaaaaaay...

Essentially, I want to cut these people. And to start telling them what I really think of their hair/outfits/faces.

But two wrongs don't make a right, or whatthehellever. So I'm not. I'm just whining to a bunch of imaginary people who don't even know what my hair looks like. :)

Thanks for putting up with it.

* I'd never been to a salon before for coloring.

Once and For All: The Serial Killer

Even when I agreed to meet him with that "Oh, sure, maybe sometime..." that's so easy on the Internet, I wasn't exactly excited by the idea. Citing a general disdain for the dating world in general, I'd deleted my online profile and backed out of other dates for the same week, but I couldn't find a defensible reason to cancel with him when I found an actual meeting fast-approaching.

I agreed to meet him at Starbucks, and we had a tentative plan for a movie following that, if we were both so inclined. By the time the day arrived, I was downright opposed to going. Again, though, finding no justifiable excuse, I resigned myself to fulfilling my obligation.

Shit. I'm supposed to meet him in 10 minutes. It's too late to back out now. Shit, shit, shit.

As I was gathering my things to walk out the door, he called to confirm the agreed-upon meeting place. His voice made me shudder. I went back inside to make sure I'd left Roommate all the pertinent details regarding him and our date. Before laying eyes on the guy, I knew I'd already discovered his epithet: The Serial Killer.

In person, Serial Killer was very nice. Had a bit of a stutter. Was seriously, seriously obsessed with music. But completely amicable. Jebus, self, I thought. Get yourself together. This guy is way too nice to be a serial killer.

Um, Ted Bundy, anyone?

When we finished our drinks, we drove (separately) to a theater and bought tickets to a movie of his choosing.[1] We had a beer or two while waiting for the film to start. It was here that Serial Killer told me he sometimes attends one of the few goth nights in D.C. clubs and suggested I join him sometime. Glancing down at my brightly-colored top and newly-pink-for-spring toenails, I told him I didn't think it would be my scene.

After the movie, in the dimly-lit parking lot of the theater, he asked if I would like to see him again. Noting my surroundings, I agreed, and we parted ways. I drove behind him until I got caught by a light. Initially relieved at the distance this put between us, after a short while I became more than a little paranoid that he was somehow suddenly behind me. I actually drove out of my way to ensure that no one was following me before I went home.

For our next date, he suggested hanging out at his place or mine. Still not comfortable with the idea of him having my address, I agreed to go to him. I arrived on time and walked into his sparsely-furnished apartment not long after he'd returned from helping with a Habitat house. Jebus, self, I thought as I listened to him excitedly describe his day of volunteering, give this guy a break. It must just be his voice that creeps you out. He can't help having a creepy voice. What kind of serial killer contributes to his community like that?

Um, John Wayne Gacy, anyone?

After we discussed our days, Serial Killer handed me a stack of DVDs. I pulled out several I hadn't seen, and, of those, he recommended Kids.

-- <rant>Wait a second. Kids? Of the 60 or so movies in your possession, you recommend, for viewing on your second date, one that involves a bunch of teenagers and pre-teens passing HIV to one another like it's a pack of Skittles or something? Two for two with the bad [2] movie selections, buddy. Two for Two. </rant>--

After that painful hour and a half, I suggested we go grab some sushi. I offered to drive, already devising my escape plan before we rose from his uncomfortable futon.

The sushi was delicious, and the conversation was, remarkably, fairly light and fun. Despite a relatively early hour, I announced I was tired when I dropped him off and avoided a kiss by throwing my hand up between us in an awkward little-kid kind of wave before heading home.

For date three (yes, there was a date three...), Serial Killer suggested a couple of other movies, both of which were sequels and neither of which held any interest for me. I countered with the suggestion we go see Bodies, which ended up being awesome (despite his somewhat inappropriate comments about genitalia throughout the exhibition).

After we viewed enough bodies and I held a human heart and brain (he declined. Fancy that), he mentioned being hungry (fancy that), and we ended up in Old Town for a bite to eat and a stroll along the waterfront. The evening was nice, and we hung out for a bit before I dropped him at the Metro and headed home (less worried this time that he was secretly following me).

That was something like a month ago now. He's been asking for another date, and I've successfully avoided agreeing because I've been legitimately busy with a variety of things. The next two weekends have pretty much already taken care of themselves in terms of my not being available.

Before I wrote this (and poured obsessively over the serial killer articles on Wiki pretty much all day today), I thought I was being too hard on the guy. Obviously, no. Something about him creeps me out, and even if it is more pronounced when I'm not around him, there's really no reason for me to keep subjecting myself to the agony that precedes these meetings.

My conundrum is this: What can I say to a guy who seriously creeps me out that will let him know once and for all that I am not interested in dating him without making him stalk me out and really earn his sobriquet?


[1] The fact that he picked a movie this terrible is somehow more disturbing to me than the fact that he picked a movie about a serial killer. I'm not sure what that says about me, really. [Up]
[2] That's not to say I think Kids was a bad movie. It's just not a good date movie. [Up]

Should I stick it out?

I'm coming to you with a situation for which I need advice.

A few years ago, I met a Guy. He was honest with me pretty early on about his feelings for me. He really wanted us to be together. I'll admit, I was scared. But there were other complications as well, and I wouldn't date him. We had our ups and (some serious, serious) downs, but we came through it all as friends. Very good friends, in my opinion.

After graduation, we each moved on to new cities. Neither of us knew anyone where we were. We spent hours on the phone with one another each night. Guy still wanted us to be together. I still refused.

One night, after several days of no phone interaction with Guy (which was incredibly unusual), I called him. He told me he was dating a Good Friend. I couldn't tell if Guy was telling the truth or yanking my leg.

Good Friend and I had known each other for at least four years at this point. She was there through every movement of the whole Guy saga. She'd offered advice when I was trying to decide what to do about him. She knew all the dirty details.

I called Good Friend when I got off the phone with Guy. With a quivering voice, she confirmed that they were together.

I'd like to say all was well with Belle's world after this. It was not.

Friend Loss #1

Guy stopped calling me. He stopped returning my calls. He stopped e-mailing me. Contact went from nearly-constant to nearly-non-existent. I missed talking to him. I didn't appreciate the change. I told him as much. He made half-hearted gestures toward maintaining contact for a bit before stopping again. I was hurt to have lost another friend to the all-consuming Relationship, but I could see (or can now see) reasons that we couldn't really maintain a friendship.

About a year ago, Guy came to D.C. for business, and we hung out one night (with Travel Buddy serving as "chaperon"). I was reminded that night of several reasons I had refused to date Guy. Aside from an apologetic call from him the next day, we haven't spoken since. Even though he was once a very integral part of my daily life, I rarely even think of him now.

Friend Loss #2

When Good Friend started dating Guy, there was a general buzz of disapproval from our mutual friends. The primary reason was that Good Friend went from social butterfly/life of the party to relative recluse overnight. Since then, I have reasons to believe she's gotten better about maintaining ties and such.

Except with me, that is.

I was recently reminded that she tossed out an incredibly lame excuse the last time I was in her town and wanted to meet up with her. The reminder came in the form of her ignoring my attempted contact when I was recently in her town again.

Then I remembered the last time I saw Guy. And the fact that Good Friend called no less than 2,974 times in the few hours we spent together (with a chaperon, dammit!). And I started to feel hurt. And a little pissed off.

Having known Good Friend for more than five years now, she's been there for the retelling of a good many of my exploits. She was there to see me devastated when I found out -- a year after the fact -- that some guy I'd drunkenly kissed at a party had a girlfriend at the time who promptly dumped him as a result of our little show. And she was there to hear me vent my anger toward a gorgeous FWB when I found out he had a girlfriend the whole time we'd had our, ahem, arrangement. She was there to comfort me after I shot down a guy I'd longed to be with for months because he started dating someone else and then tried to put the moves on me.

So, suddenly, I'm wondering, what the hell? She doesn't trust me? Have I ever tried to move in on a friend's man? Um, no. Do I even want one someone else has? Also, no. And she knows this. Or she should.

Still, I suppose, things are tricky with the whole Guy situation, considering his feelings for me in the past and her knowledge of those feelings. But the two have been dating for almost two years now. They live together, for fuck's sake, and I live more than a thousand miles away. I don't contact Guy (nor does he contact me). I don't even have his contact information anymore. She has nothing to be worried about from me.

So why can't Good Friend and I remain friends? You know, the kind of friends who take one another's phone calls. The kind of friends who actually want to get lunch together when they're practically within spitting distance after months (years?) of separation.*

My questions for you, dear readers, are several. Do I keep my mouth shut or say something about this? If so, what? If not, do I sit silently and hope that one day I'll be able to rejuvenate my friendship with Good Friend, or should I do myself a favor and consider it a lost cause? Is asking for some form of relatively reliable contact asking too much? Is wanting to see her for a few hours when we're in the same ZIP code asking too much? Am I being unreasonable?

I need answers!

Let me reiterate something before I end. I know I'll probably have dissenters, but I'm throwing it out there anyway. Whatever feelings I might have had for Guy are distant memories now. Like I said, I barely think about the guy. Whatever issue I may have had at the beginning of Guy and Good Friend's relationship are long gone. By all accounts (not firsthand, of course) the two are happy together and will probably remain that way for many moons to come. I wish them all the happiness and luck a couple can handle.


* I've spent time with her parents more recently than I've seen her, for crying out loud.