RM and Jay update

I'll start with RM. You know how he's trying to reshape his eating habits in the image of mine? And how that's kind of creepy? So he’s now buying stuff what I buy, even though he doesn’t know what to do with it, which is fine with almonds, because you can just eat them as is... but this morning I was disturbed to find next to the compost bin a half-full, partly gone-off package of sliced baby bella mushrooms. And this was disturbing less because I have an aversion to wasted food, but because the only reason RM would be buying packages of sliced baby bellas is because they are a staple of mine. But the thing is, baby bellas aren’t almonds, and you have to actually do something with them, except he actually doesn’t. Instead of actually thinking about what he would cook—what he would like to eat based on his personal tastes, time constraints, etc.—he just buys what he sees me buy. I even gave him some issues of Everyday Food (to which I’d subscribed to get rid of expiring miles, and for which I have no use because most of the recipes use too much processed food for my liking), but does he even look at them? I mean, if you’re going to start cooking, that’s the place to start—it’s cooking for dummies. Instead, he buys baby bellas and scratches his head.

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Speaking of people who are beyond help because they just won’t listen, Jay is incorrigible, especially for a faux polygamist. [The dude goes out of his way to point out that he has at least four wives (I should tell mom as much next time she asks whether he has a boyfriend)]. I think I'm the only long-distance one--I don't think he's counting Heather. BTW, I do have some loyalty. I remember years ago, we (i.e. some grad school friends and I) were watching American Wedding and there was some sugary romantic scene and Marcela thought it was all cute and Robert and I both thought, “GAG ME,” (my thought and whatever I said was probably accompanied by audiovisual effects), and Robert asked me to marry him. To think I turned him down, said, “I love you but I already have one gay husband.” I should have realized I could have more than one.

Anyway, four fake wives and Jay's still a complete f*ing mess. I mean, if I had four wives, I’d be much less of a mess (or at least my lawn and house would be). But I digress. The issue is that much like my mom, Jay DOESN’T LISTEN. He left this afternoon (this morning, I went to work, he went museum hopping, and then he and I met for lunch before he took off). He’s been to DC quite a few times, so I didn’t feel the need to point out distances, but I did tell him his plan for the AM was super ambitious (and I didn’t know to count on his getting lost on the way to the metro and taking a scenic detour through Old Town, which he acknowledged was “super close”). BTW, also to his credit, he did not—apart from the lawn or perceived cleanliness of the kitchen sink—have anything bad to say about the house; in fact, he liked it. But more importantly, he did not emit non-stop critiques every three minutes, nor show symptoms of severe depression as a result of my apparently dark, dreary décor. Then again, we didn’t spend a whole lot of time in the house, so that may explain it.

Anyway, I felt guilty because I should have vetted his plans and gotten a better gauge of his perception of where things were. And should have insisted on taking his luggage. But whatever. He lost some time, but still got some museum hopping in. We had a good lunch, and resisted the temptation of getting a cupcake afterward. Actually, we walked into Red Velvet but the smell of icing was nauseating.

Oh, I yelled at him for texting while we were at lunch, because I think it’s rude, but princess that he is, he took it as a sign that I needed his undivided attention at all times (or at least, in this case, while we were having lunch). Even though he was just texting Heather to respond to her discovery of quinoa on a menu somewhere (she hadn’t heard of it until their trip to Sweden). For the record, I have few pretensions to highbrowness (as is well documented on this blog), but I’ve been eating quinoa for years before it was trendy. Anyway, the attention thing came up on the way back from HF because Jay said, “Chad texted me; I could call him back but I’m too tired to talk for half an hour” and I said, “yeah, please don’t” and Jay read it as a sign of my need for his undivided attention, but I pointed out that it is quite unpleasant to listen to half a phone conversation. This was a foreign concept to him though, because it's all about him. Which is not ironic, because he's the one who gave me my "It's all about me-deal with it!" Happy Bunny magnet.

Jay's behaviors indicative of his having been raised in a barn (no fault of his mother's though-- she tried) actually benefited me, since I got to get the snarky etiquette lectures out of my system and was able to refrain from whipping them out on my friend’s friends, more than one of whom felt the need to ‘reply all’ to an invitation for birthday drinks.

BTW, I’m being catty (and there was more than one ‘meow’ noise out of Jay—and not just the ones where he was imitating Gracie and at one point had me fooled) but I don’t feel bad because he reads my blog so he can defend himself in the comments if he feels the need. And because I’ve said all this to his face anyway. This is not to try to convince you that I’m a good, not catty person (again, I’ve established on these pages that such a feat is beyond the mission and capabilities of this blog; after all, I blog about my mother behind her back). Stay tuned.

As Jay and I walked up 7th Street, I pointed out the various restaurants. Jay noticed a sign to Metro Center.

J.: Why would they point people there when Gallery Place is right there?

A.: I guess in case people want the orange or blue line. Ooh, there’s a really good Peruvian place at Metro Center. You should come visit more often or move down here.

J.: Yeah, none of my Boston friends wants to try new restaurants anymore because they’re saving money and such.

A.: Yeah, don’t move down here if we’re going to end up going out a lot. I should also save money and not overeat. Some of my friends and I used to do regular girls’ nights… until three of them went off to the foreign service and two moved way-the-f* out to the suburbs. It’s just as well though, because I spent a lot of money and overate, and now I do so less regularly.